Roger Watson
| Residing In: | Shippensburg, PA USA |
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| Spouse/Partner: | Patricia Colyott |
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| Homepage: |
www.colyottwatson.com www.wedoflood.com |
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| Occupation: | Insurance agent |
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| Children: | Scott 1969 Nicole 1973 Stacey 1975 Jessica 1978 |
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| Military Service: | USMC  |
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Roger's Latest Interactions
Posted on: Jan 13, 2025 at 1:31 PM
Happy Birthday. I started intending that wish for Bob Biederman. Then I thought better of it. It works for Bob on January 14, 2025, when he turns 79. The more I thought about it, the more it dawned on me that for most of the class of NHS 1964, a Happy Birthday wish in 2025 would be in order. For all of you, Happy Birthday!
Many of you know the story about Bob and me—there really wasn't a story until we met on this website, I think, about ten years ago. A lot has happened in the passing years—some good things, some not so much, but we supported each other.
Bob and I haven't spent any physical time together during the last ten years except for the time we spent with Dave Bliss in San Diego. (As a passing note, Dave Bliss's birthday is on January 22.) Yet even though Bob and I communicate almost solely via email, we have grown closer together. Like many of us, we have had some thoughts and ideas that have not materialized. We regret that a few of those ideas didn't work out.
Hopefully, there are people in our lives who have stood by us when we need them most. Bob Biederman has been my leaning post. I have been blessed with people who have come into my life at just the right time, bringing with them exactly what I needed. Bob Biederman is one of those people.
A Jewish Rabbi, Jonathan Sacks, titles one of his voluminous writings (well worth your time to read any of his writings), "Count your blessings and begin to change your life." Bob has been a blessing to me and has been a key contributor to many of the changes in my life over the passing years. We have challenged each other on many fronts, but two stand out—religion and politics. Shocked? Me too. We may not have always agreed, but it did not diminish our respect for each other or our friendship. To many of you who knew Bob, myself, or both of us, could you see that coming? Not me.
Bob, I wish you a happy birthday, but perhaps more importantly, I want our classmates to know how much our friendship has meant to me. You have put the friend back into friendship. It has taken fifty-plus years of fundamental ignorance of each other to come to a point today where I can call you my friend, my best friend. Bob, if I had to describe our relationship - "Iron sharpens Iron." Thanks for those 79 years that got you here, but be forewarned, I am not sure I could do another 79 years being friends with a Bigelow graduate!
Posted on: Mar 12, 2024 at 4:33 AM
Posted on: Dec 18, 2023 at 2:34 PM
A Christmas Story
December 7, 1941, marks a day when the people in this country awoke to a tragedy that was multiple times greater than the tragedy of September 11, 2001. Both of those tragedies impacted us as a nation. Most of us felt the pain of those attacks collectively as a people, but not personally.
December 7, 2023, marked another day of tragedy. This day, it was a bit closer to home. At 10.04 a.m., a 15-month-old boy was struck by a train as he ran across the railroad tracks trying to catch a kitten.
This tragedy happened in the small community of Walnut Bottom, Pennsylvania. I live about 10 miles from where the accident occurred. One of my daughters lives next door to this young man and his family. The family is part of a large community of Mennonites living in the area. I have not witnessed anything like the support for this family, as shown by the Mennonite community.
You don't need to live here long to realize they are a close, tight-knit community. I cannot help but think this was what it must have been years ago in our country. I wish I could have lived then. Throughout our 34 years in this area, we have been fortunate to make many close friends and companions while being warmly welcomed into this community. It is something special.
You may be wondering where the Christmas or Festival of Lights is in this story. Eight days after this tragedy, on December 15, 2023, at approximately 6:30 p.m. on a chilly Friday night, there were more than 30 visitors from the church of the family who had so recently lost their son in our front yard. They were singing Christmas Carols, they were caroling. I cannot remember in my 77 years having anyone sing Christmas Carols to me or my family. It was even more extraordinary given the circumstances of their church and community.
I learned and felt the love of others shown to me and my family, even amid their suffering, grieving, and loss. What kind of strength does a person, a family, or a community possess that enables them to reach out to others, giving them something of themselves when they are in pain and grieving?
I question my strength and character to put others before myself when I am suffering from my losses. Yes, Christmas will be memorable for me this year. I saw and experienced what it means to put your pain aside and reach out to lift others up. The only thing better than this Christmas would be one where I had the strength to lift others up.
May you have a Merry Christmas, a Festival of Lights, and a great 2024.
Posted on: Aug 02, 2023 at 4:42 PM
2023 has been a challenging year for the Newton High School Class of 1964. Counting the last day of December 2022 and the first seven months of 2023, we have lost three class stalwarts. Three strong men and three impactful leaders have impacted our class differently for different reasons. The first loss was David Bliss, the second Alan Crosby, and just recently, David Katseff.
Of the three, I knew David Bliss the best, then Alan Crosby, and then David Katseff. I recognize that this is becoming a common theme, but of the three, I was with David Katseff, both at Warren Jr High and the high school, yet I knew him least but not for lack of opportunity. Of the three, DK(sorry about the initials, but it's easier for me. Yes, I know it's always about me) was more intelligent because he spent the least time with me.
If you have read the comments of our classmates, you may have developed a sense that DK was a person worth knowing. DK was one of those people who had a gift for getting along with people. I never saw or heard of him being popular because he curried other people's favor. Instead, he drew people to him. People liked to be around him. They wanted to be around him.
If you look at the number of committees or groups he was associated with, you may think he was a joiner, but you'd be wrong. People wanted him involved because he always added something to the group or the project. When he owned his company, I doubt his employees felt mistreated, abused, or ignored. I expect it was the very opposite.
Ask the reunion committee members what it felt like to work with DK. Ask them if they would work for him or have him work for them. In a word, yes.
One of the things that makes DK stand out to me is that he was a man of integrity, faithful to his family and friends. If you have your yearbook go back and look at what David said was his fondest memory. He said S. If you go back and look at Sharon's fondest memory, it was her friends, and there was one in particular that seemed to stand out to her. There has been a lot of faithfulness and integrity for a long while in the Katseff family. Kids, I hope you have been taking notes because you have had some great teachers.
I quoted from a country and western song in an earlier writing about when we die "It's not what you take with you its what you leave behind that matters." That would work for DK, but I am doubtful he was much of a C&W fan, so I'll straighten it out a bit; well, not me but the author who penned these words.
"Blessed indeed that they rest from their labors for their deeds follow them." Rest easy, David. You have left a long line of deeds behind you.
Posted on: Jun 23, 2023 at 5:44 PM
It's A Choice!
My wife and I went to a newly opened diner for breakfast recently. Our initial visit to the restaurant could have been more impressive. Allowing for the fact that the place had just opened, we felt that they deserved a second chance. The food was alright on our first visit, but the service was terrible. Our waitress had either not been trained or needed to seek a different occupation. What a difference a second visit made.
Our waitress looked like she just walked off the set of The Beverly Hills Hillbillies. No, not Ellie May but Grannie. She greeted us and professionally took our order, but she didn't look or speak like someone from Shippensburg, Pennsylvania. I had caught a tinge of an accent in her voice and asked her if she lived around here. She responded, " yes and no." She told us she was visiting one of her daughters who lived here. Asking a few more questions, she said to us that she has five kids living in the States and is spending most of her time moving around to visit them. Picking up on the fact that she said, "In the States," I suspected she was not originally from the States. She said that she was from New Zealand but had lived in States for almost thirty years as she traveled around visiting her kids. I asked what her favorite state was - she replied Tenessee. Asking why, she told us she felt the people in the South were friendlier than in the North. She felt that Northerners were, for the most part, cold, rude, uncaring, and looked right through her. Yet when living in the South, things were different. She felt more accepted. As a Northerner, it wasn't exactly what I was happy to hear.
She mentioned she would go home to New Zealand every three or four years to visit with family and friends. Having spent so much time in the States, I asked where she liked living better. Surprise, surprise, she responded, without hesitation, "New Zealand." Why? "Friendlier, more manageable pace, and free to be yourself without people judging you and who they thought you were." Where's the Chamber of Commerce when you need them?
Oh, did I mention she was also a good waitress? I thanked her and hoped things here would become more like New Zealand. She loved her kids more, so she stayed but hoped to return to New Zealand soon. We tipped her and left.
She had brought more to our table than food. She showed me how much I am like those people with attitudes she didn't like. How many people have I looked through, failed to give a passing nod or smile, or made some gesture that let them know I saw them as a person? The mirror she handed me didn't make the reflection look very good.
Several weeks ago, my wife and I took a four-day vacation to one of this country's great vacation spots - Erie, Pennsylvania. Some may accuse me of using hyperbole with that statement - Eh, maybe they're right. We needed more time than four days to make the trip to the Outer Banks or Maine, and we had never spent any time around the Great Lakes. Erie was close, so why not?
Working out of an Erie Insurance Agency for the last twenty-two years, I got us a room at a Sheraton Hilton Hotel on the Lake for the grand total of 119 dollars a night. You gotta love those hometown discounts. Not precisely a hometown discount, but I wasn't going to quibble.
Erie perfectly describes a blue-collar city (the fifth-largest city in Pennsylvania). There are empty storefronts and deteriorating buildings, and there seem to be more bars than anything else. Poverty is not just another word here. It survives because of two businesses, the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center(UPMC) and Erie Insurance.
Expectedly, the closer you get to the Lake, the more prosperous the area looks. Upscale hotels, classy restaurants, yes bars, museums, a convention center, and lots and lots of boats line the coastline. If you just stayed there, it would be nice, but then you would miss the heart of the city.
Upon our arrival, I went to the front desk to check in, wearing a t-shirt with a Marine Corps eagle, globe, and anchor emblazoned on the chest. Two young on the desk greeted me with a "thank you for your service." You may have read my note about the difference between service and sacrifice, so the following will be no surprise.
While I appreciated their thanks, I explained that the difference between sacrifice and service is that sacrifice is giving something that you could never get back. It wasn't only the servicemen or women but also their families that made a sacrifice. They were both choked up. One had a father and a brother that served in the Marine Corps. He wanted to but couldn't because of back issues. He said he couldn't wait to get home and share this simple message with them. The other young man's dad was KIA in Viet Nam. Knowing that it wasn't just his dad who had made the sacrifice but his mom and his siblings had also changed how he understood what sacrifice really meant. They were a big reason this trip became so important to me. They taught me the difference between service and sacrifice.
Everywhere we went, we ran into real people. I left my wallet in a restaurant where we ate our first evening. The following day I could only think about what I would have to go through to cancel my credit cards and restore my identity. (Shh, I was glad my wife had her credit card.) But this damper on our vacation had a happy ending. A seventeen-year-old busboy had found the wallet and given it to the manager with nothing missing. Surprise! There was a time that wouldn't have been a surprise but not today and not in a place with this city's struggles.
Everywhere we went, we met people who treated us not like tourists but as family. Be it a diner, Maritime museum, Zoo, dinner on board a paddle boat tour around LakeErie ( the captain invited me into the wheelhouse and gave me a brief of the history of the boat), and of course, restaurants.
On our second day, we went to breakfast without my wallet. We found the proverbial dive to have breakfast. Like most dives I have eaten in, the food was excellent. I had an enormous omelet. It was also close to being the best I have ever had. Yet, the real surprise wasn't the food.
The "regulars" and we carried on like family and friends on an outing. Laughter, joking, and barbs filled this dive. We didn't want to leave, but it was good we did.
We were returning to the hotel to wait until I could call to see if anyone had returned my lost wallet. On the other side of the four-lane street, we saw a man slumped over in a motorized wheelchair. My wife turned the car around, and I got out to check on him. He was out cold. I called 911, got the dispatcher, and told him the situation. He said he would get an ambulance there as soon as possible. Checking his breathing, frequency and depth, blood pressure, and his state of consciousness, I reported it back to the dispatcher. He gained consciousness several times, only to lose consciousness again. He was awake long enough to say he wanted to go to the VA hospital. The VA hospital was a few blocks away, but they do not take emergencies, so he would have to go to a nearby hospital.
I am no doctor, but it seemed to me that it might be a series of TIAs. But he wasn't looking good. The ambulance arrived and took over from there.
We turned back around, heading to the hotel. I felt different. My wallet seemed insignificant.
On Sunday morning, we left Erie in the rearview mirror heading home. The attractions, such as they were, were fine. The truth was, the most essential appeal we saw was the people. Erie will always have a special place in my heart. It was a "family" vacation.
Several days ago, after receiving word about Alan Crosby, I came across a picture of four impressive-looking men attending the 55th reunion. Forgive me, gentlemen, if this statement is incorrect. It is unintentional. Chalk it up to old age.
I looked at that picture of Henry Barr, Bill Goldstein, Steve Sussman, and Bernie Davidson. I didn't recognize any of them. Bluntly, I don't think I knew them. The irony of having left Erie after four days felt like I had left friends and family behind, and yet after spending 540 days (give or take) near these gentlemen, I didn't know them. If I could have attended the 55th, I would have walked right by them without a glance or a word. Sadly, Steve Sussman has died, and I will never be able to rectify my loss. The reflection in the mirror is still looking pretty ugly.
I would like you to think about the people that couldn't see my waitress and think about the people who not only saw my wife and me but went beyond and treated us like friends and family. Which are you?
One last thing. After explaining my understanding of the difference between service and sacrifice to the two young at the front desk, I realized that I had missed the mark and not by a little.
Please hear this. Everything I have said about the difference between service and sacrifice is valid, but I have missed the boat because sacrifice is not the exclusive property of servicemen and women, and their families. Let me repeat the difference. You do service as an obligation, and in many ways, it is self-serving. It may be your job. You are getting paid to do it or, in some way benefiting yourself.
Sacrifice is putting something of yours that means something to you on the Altar, knowing you will never get it back. Putting it simply: Service is all about you; Sacrifice is all about others.
Are you a taker or a giver? Are you willing to give of yourself and make a difference in the lives of others? We are running out of time. The last thing we will see is that mirror. What is the reflection going to look like? Whatever it is, we will take it to the grave with us. It is our choice!
Posted on: Jun 20, 2023 at 3:43 PM
Alan Crosby Obituary
This obituary reads like the Alan we knew, loved, and enjoyed. He squeezes every bit out of life that he could and then some. I emailed him when I heard that he was having some health issues. I asked if there was anything I could do for him. His reply was typically Alan:" Nice of you to offer. Heart and kidney issues. But I’m in the right place. Great docs here.
I won't shed any tears for Alan, he wouldn't want them, but I, and many of you, will shed a few.
Alan, take care. I will always remember you as a guy who did it his way, and that was pretty damn good.
M. Alan Crosby
M. Alan Crosby, 77, used up the last of his nine lives on June 17, 2023, at the home he loved in Waterford, Vermont.
Al was born January 8, 1946, in Arlington, Massachusetts to the late Vernon Roy and Thelma Crosby. His father was a spy with the OSS in China, and learned of his birth two weeks later, when the Red Cross tracked him down. Al grew up in Arlington, Danvers, Lexington, Newton Center, Newtonville and Acton, Massachusetts, and Drakes Island, Wells, Moody Beach and Ogunquit, Maine. He graduated from Newton High School and Colby College, making friendships that lasted his entire life.
Al was an adventure seeker early on. He survived falling through the ice on a pond when he was nine. In high school, he ended up in traction after falling off a high bar in gymnastics practice. He took wild boat rides in a 14-foot Chris Craft out to Boone Island, Maine, regularly dove off the drawbridge at Perkin's Cove at midnight, and cross country skied in 30 below weather (only once).
Little League started a lifelong love of baseball. He also ran track, played tennis, was a fisherman, enjoyed golf, and could do 20 handstand pushups in his younger years. Al helped his parents run several motels in Maine, was a farm hand, a bartender, a stockbroker, and helped run the Sugar Hill Inn. As a collections manager, he was "the last guy out the door" at St. Johnsbury Trucking and worked for Casella Waste Management until retirement. He designed and helped build his mother's house in Drakes Island, Maine and his own passive solar home in Waterford.
Alan had a vast knowledge of obscure facts. If he didn't know the answer to a question, he would make one up and convince you that he was right. Al loved fishing, skiing, gardening, meeting his friends for coffee or golf, and the many cats he owned throughout his life. He loved weekends in Ogunquit, Maine and winters on a Florida beach. It took several tries, but Alan married the love of his life, Rose Rainville Crosby, 21 years ago on a beach in Hawaii.
He is survived by his wife Rose of Waterford, her son Jon Prue (Tara) of Lyndon, VT, daughter Krystal Tischendorf (Brian) of Ormand Beach, FL, his grandchildren: Colby, Casey, Katie, Jake, Megan, great-grandchild: Logan, his mother-in-law: Cecile Rainville, brother in law: Art Rainville (Ida) of Danville, VT, his sister Becky Grillo (Bobb) of Windham, CT, brothers: Steve Crosby (Sue) of Newburyport, MA and Jeff Crosby of Terra Haute, IN.
He was predeceased by his sister, Buff Crosby and niece, Kara Grillo.
In honor of Kara who attended the Paul Newnan Camp, donations may be made in lieu of flowers to holeinthewallgang.org or Hole in the Wall Gang Camp, 555 Long Wharf Dr., New Haven, CT 06511
Visitation with family and friends will be held from 4-6pm Sunday, June 25, 2023, at the Sayles Funeral Home, 525 Summer Street in St Johnsbury.
A Celebration of Life will be held at a later date.
Alan's final resting place will be Sunnyside Cemetery in Sugar Hill, New Hampshire.
Memories and condolences may be shared with the family at www.saylesfh.com
To order memorial trees or send flowers to the family in memory of M. Alan Crosby, please visit our flower store.
Posted on: Mar 12, 2023 at 4:33 AM
David Bliss Celebration of Life
I am sorry for the short notice. The address for the service is https://vimeo.com/event/2927658.
The service will be today, Feb 25, 2023 at 2 p.m. Est and 11 a.m. on the west coast, You'll have to figure it out for yourself if you are anywhere else in-between
An Elegy For A Friend
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."
—Theodore Roosevelt
Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910
This quote is one of my all-time favorite quotes. It provides an apt description of many people whose paths I have been fortunate enough to cross. It was one of David Bliss' most-liked quotes, and it fits him well. It is an apt description of who David was and how he lived.
David Bliss is dead. I realize we have a tacit agreement on this website not to talk about religion or politics; however, I can't talk about Dave without talking about his belief and faith in God. It was who David was. And I cannot talk about David without discussing his impact on my spiritual journey. Bear with me. I will keep it short, well, as short as I can.
David considered his time at Newton High a high point in his life. His experiences and memories at Newton High were an excellent source for many of his stories and illustrations in his preaching and work on the mission field. It is also not an exaggeration to say he loved this class. I witnessed David praying for this class and many individuals in it. Why would he pray for this class, perhaps you and me? He cared. We, you, were vital to him. I know because David frequently prayed for me, you, and our class.
If you only knew David from seeing him around school, you might think he had it all together. Many classmates saw David as intelligent, good-looking, athletic, and popular, even with his teachers. Of course, many may have seen David that way, but not all. All the reasons that people liked David and wanted to be friends with him were the same qualities about him that made people dislike him. He was easy to dislike. I disliked him
Did I mention he was also religious? He was not "a going to church on Sunday and getting "real" the rest of the week type of Christian." Instead, he tried to live his life the same way every day, saying and doing what he believed God wanted him to do. Wherever David went, God and church were with him. Of course, this religious "stuff" didn't sit well with many people, including some of us, his classmates.
On January 29, 2019, I posted a message about David Bliss and his slow, declining, losing battle with dementia. Today, his struggle has come full circle. He did not live to see his 77th birthday on January 22, 2023. Of those 77 years, I have known David for 62 years.
Football, sub sandwiches, pranks, girls, playing war, and encouraging each other to try and do things that we might not have done alone aside, our relationship was based on David's love of God and striving to live his life for Jesus. Even at 15, David had an extraordinary passion for those who didn't necessarily love him. When David and I were sophomores, we both played football. Well, I did. I was on the varsity, and David was on the sophomore team. In my eyes, David was a goody-two-shoes. I would have called him a nerd today. But, the bottom line, it was beneath me to even acknowledge his presence. As time proved, I got it upside down.
Things began to turn around during our junior year of football when he earned my grudging respect by holding his own with me when we faced off against each other in practice. All right, there may have been a couple of times when he did more than hold his own, but that's another story I am sure you don't want to hear about!
Finally, I grudgingly began to develop mutual respect for him. One day David offered to give me a ride after practice so I didn't have to wait for the bus to get home. Let me revisit that last sentence. David would not allow himself to ignore me or treat me the way I treated him because he felt God wanted him (David) to reach out to me to help me have a relationship with God.
As I mentioned a couple of years ago in one of my posts, this attitude, this caring for others, drew me to David. In the years and times Dave and I spent together, he earned my respect because he reached out to people most of us wanted to ignore. David taught me and, more importantly, showed me how to value and treat people with love, care, and respect. David "walked the talk."
For all of us, life became more complicated after graduation. David was not an exception. You have heard the saying, "It is not the number of times that you get knocked down that counts. Rather it is the number of times you get up." With God's grace, David always got up one more time than he got knocked down.
I will not get into the struggles that David dealt with, but to say that many were the same that we deal with or have dealt with in our past. However, David believed in God. David's faith in God gave him the strength to keep getting up. Sound familiar? It bears repeating:
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat." That was my friend David Bliss.
More…
David was a humble man. He learned early on that there is no I in team. Regardless of our circumstances, we are no better than anyone else or worse. The question is, even if I am struggling, will I do all in my power to be better today than yesterday? Too often, we see things as me against you or them. We must know who the real enemy is. The real enemy I face is me. It's personal. David knew the enemy. He loved and cared enough for me to help me recognize the enemy for who it was and show me how to defeat it. In the years we spent as friends, some 60+, he was my guide and mentor in matters of the spirit. It is easy for people to see the monsters we have on the outside, but it takes a person with love, care, and humility to see the light in the darkness, the good in evil. David was that man. He had that vision and would share it with all who would listen. Even when not in his right mind, David brought joy, love, and caring into the lives of those around him. Having a little piece of David in our lives might not hurt. It certainly hasn't hurt me.
David loved music. He loved to sing and play the banjo. He especially enjoyed the old hymns and a few more modern ones. I opened with a quote, and I want to end this with an old hymn. David spent most of his life in various parts of Africa, and this African spiritual hymn was a favorite of his. "Swing Low" celebrates death as the time one leaves this world to be carried home to glory. The joy of what's ahead, "a band of angels coming after me," acknowledges that my work on this earth is done. "Tell all my friends I am coming to" is a statement that binds us all together. We have lost many people that mean so much to us, but our sadness and sorrow are only temporary. We will soon be reunited. The day I depart this world is not wrapped in darkness; instead, a blinding light is driving the darkness away. Yes, life comes with ups and downs. We may know " the triumph of high achievement," or if at worst, we fail, at least we fail while daring greatly.
For David, the chariot swung low and has carried him home. As we grow old and die off, we must leave all we have to give on the field. We must leave it all behind. We can't take it with us. We have to leave it all on the field. Love, care, compassion, and humility are all we have to leave behind to our loved ones, families, and friends, the ugly, hateful, unlovable, the lonely, and left out. We were given what we got for that purpose to leave it behind.
There are no words I can appropriately pen about David's life and death. The world was/is a better place for his presence. I am a better man for his friendship.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
1 I looked over Jordan, and what did I see,
Coming for to carry me home.
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
2 If you get there before I do,
Coming for to carry me home.
Tell all my friends I'm coming too,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
3 The brightest day that ever I saw
Coming for to carry me home.
When Jesus washed my sins away,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
4 I'm sometimes up and sometimes down,
Coming for to carry me home.
But still my soul feels heavenly bound,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
One of the many things that old age brings with it is the loss of those who have had the most significant impact on us and our lives. Those losses are deep and heartfelt, and a piece of us dies with them.
For most of us, outside of family and maybe despite family, our teachers and coaches had the most incredible early impact on our lives. For many of us, they weren't just teachers and coaches, they were our mentors, and they were our influencers.
We can look back at our time at NHS and pick out at least one coach or teacher that made a significant difference in our life. Part of our website is dedicated to the "mentors" in our lives, to those influencers who invested themselves in some way, small or great. They have made us different than who we might be today. But, unfortunately, we often fall into the trap of thinking that a mentor, a guide, must be old and experienced - not so.
We have heard from several of our classmates about the impact of George Jessup on their lives. Mr. Jessup (I use the Mister in deference to Mr. Jessup, not as a common noun) was a little older than those he instructed and mentored. But, reread some of the comments made by those who taught and coached, and you will get a glimpse of something of the man George Jessup.
I knew Mr. Jessup but mainly as a trainer for the football team. So, unfortunately, I do not have illustrations or remembrances of those who have recognized and honored him with their words. But he even touched my life.
One of Mr. Jessup's tasks as a football team trainer was a menial one. He taped the ankles of the players before practices and games. Only a little glory for one had studied and trained in biology, physiology, anatomy, and kinesiology. Taping the ankles of a bunch of high school football players was not an overwhelming reason he decided to spend his life working with young men and women. Many would have treated that task beneath them, but not George Jessup. He did each ankle he taped with care and pride regardless of who it belonged to. His goal was not concerned with false pride but with preventing injury. He did that with great success and class.
The great lesson Mr. Jessup gave me was how to treat all tasks, menial or not, with humility and grace. If I could have practiced the lessons and examples he demonstrated in my life after high school, I would have been a much better person. That was on me. He didn't fail me; I failed him.
Those who had Mr. Jessup know the truth of what I am saying about him, and those who did not have that opportunity, you missed knowing a real man and a great teacher.
Posted on: Jan 23, 2023 at 2:32 PM
And So It Ends
David Bliss was born January 22, 1946, and died December 31, 19,2022. I know when I was born, but I don't know the, well, I can't fill in the blanks. I know David couldn't either, but the date still got filled.
I do not mean to be morbid. Please stay with me. Ask yourself, "if I was told I had one day to live, how would I choose to live it? Who would I choose to spend it with? What would I want to do?" Is there anything I have put off doing or saying or wanting?
Without meaning to sound flip, an easy answer to those questions is, "don't wait until the "last day." Instead, make your last day today. Make that phone call, have that visit, make that apology, go on that trip, write your obituary, have your wake, have your funeral service where you get to say goodbye. Have your Celebration of Life while you're alive to appreciate it. Fix what needs fixing, do what needs doing, say what needs to be said, forgive those that need forgiveness, and show mercy to those that require compassion and understanding before the blank gets filled. It bears repeating You don't know when your date will be filled in
When that final day arrives, will we feel fear, sadness, loneliness, despair, helplessness, loss, anger, rejection, or regret? It doesn't have to be that way.
"The late newspaper publisher William Randolph Hearst invested a fortune in collecting great works of art. One day he read of an extremely valuable work that he determined to add to his collection. His agent searched the galleries of the world but to no avail. Finally, after many months of effort and at great expense, the agent found the prized artwork. It had been stored in one of Hearst's own warehouses all along!"
Many of us are like Wiliam Randolph Hearst. Instead of a work of art, we look for peace in all the wrong places. Instead of looking for a great piece of art, we look for answers to our feelings, to make us feel better, to make all those negative feelings disappear. Hearst's treasure was hidden in his own warehouse. Peace for you and I lies within ourselves.
Look at the list of negative feelings. The first feeling I listed was fear. Fear spawns all those other feelings. If that's true, if I can deal with anxiety, I can also deal with all those different feelings.
Somewhere in my travels, a wise person explained what fear is: False, Evidence, Appearing, Real. All those negative feelings are false evidence, appearing real. It is within my power not to give in to them. It is in my power to fix them. If I own them, if they are mine, I can fix them. No one else can.
Before it's my turn for that blank to be filled in, I need to ask, "have I done all that needs to be done, to do what needs to be done?
At some point, we will all have that blank filled but have we done all that we can to be prepared? We only have one chance to get it right. There are no redos. All we have left is to fill in the blanks.
It is done - ________/_____/20___
Posted on: Jan 20, 2023 at 12:33 PM
An Elegy to A Friend
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat."
—Theodore Roosevelt
Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910
This quote is one of my all-time favorite quotes. It provides an apt description of many people whose paths I have been fortunate enough to cross. It was one of David Bliss' most-liked quotes, and it fits him well. It is an apt description of who David was and how he lived.
David Bliss is dead. I realize we have a tacit agreement on this website not to talk about religion or politics; however, I can't talk about Dave without talking about his belief and faith in God. It was who David was. And I cannot talk about David without discussing his impact on my spiritual journey. Bear with me. I will keep it short, well, as short as I can.
David considered his time at Newton High a high point in his life. His experiences and memories at Newton High were an excellent source for many of his stories and illustrations in his preaching and work on the mission field. It is also not an exaggeration to say he loved this class. I witnessed David praying for this class and many individuals in it. Why would he pray for this class, perhaps you and me? He cared. We, you, were vital to him. I know because David frequently prayed for me, you, and our class.
If you only knew David from seeing him around school, you might think he had it all together. Many classmates saw David as intelligent, good-looking, athletic, and popular, even with his teachers. Of course, many may have seen David that way, but not all. All the reasons that people liked David and wanted to be friends with him were the same qualities about him that made people dislike him. He was easy to dislike. I disliked him
Did I mention he was also religious? He was not "a going to church on Sunday and getting "real" the rest of the week type of Christian." Instead, he tried to live his life the same way every day, saying and doing what he believed God wanted him to do. Wherever David went, God and church were with him. Of course, this religious "stuff" didn't sit well with many people, including some of us, his classmates.
On January 29, 2019, I posted a message about David Bliss and his slow, declining, losing battle with dementia. Today, his struggle has come full circle. He did not live to see his 77th birthday on January 22, 2023. Of those 77 years, I have known David for 62 years.
Football, sub sandwiches, pranks, girls, playing war, and encouraging each other to try and do things that we might not have done alone aside, our relationship was based on David's love of God and striving to live his life for Jesus. Even at 15, David had an extraordinary passion for those who didn't necessarily love him. When David and I were sophomores, we both played football. Well, I did. I was on the varsity, and David was on the sophomore team. In my eyes, David was a goody-two-shoes. I would have called him a nerd today. But, the bottom line, it was beneath me to even acknowledge his presence. As time proved, I got it upside down.
Things began to turn around during our junior year of football when he earned my grudging respect by holding his own with me when we faced off against each other in practice. All right, there may have been a couple of times when he did more than hold his own, but that's another story I am sure you don't want to hear about!
Finally, I grudgingly began to develop mutual respect for him. One day David offered to give me a ride after practice, so I didn't have to wait for the bus to get home. Let me revisit that last sentence. David would not allow himself to ignore me or treat me the way I treated him because he felt God wanted him (David) to reach out to me to help me have a relationship with God.
As I mentioned a couple of years ago in one of my posts, this attitude, this caring for others, drew me to David. In the years and times Dave and I spent together, he earned my respect because he reached out to people most of us wanted to ignore. David taught me and, more importantly, showed me how to value and treat people with love, care, and respect. David "walked the talk."
For all of us, life became more complicated after graduation. David was not an exception. You have heard the saying, "It is not the number of times that you get knocked down that counts. Rather it is the number of times you get up." With God's grace, David always got up one more time than he got knocked down.
I will not get into the struggles that David dealt with, but to say that many were the same that we deal with or have dealt with in our past. However, David believed in God. David's faith in God gave him the strength to keep getting up. Sound familiar? It bears repeating:
"It is not the critic who counts: not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles or where the doer of deeds could have done better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly, who errs and comes up short again and again, because there is no effort without error or shortcoming, but who knows the great enthusiasms, the great devotions, who spends himself in a worthy cause; who, at the best, knows, in the end, the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat." That was my friend David Bliss.
I should stop here, but I want to add some other things. You have read in some of my comments about the importance of caring for each other. David did that before I cared much about anything. David knew the importance of continuing to like those who do not want anything to do with you. Don't write people off or out of your life because they don't like you. It is not whether they like you. It is all about you caring for them. Do you know anyone that doesn't want you? How do you feel about them? Is it a case of mutual dislike? David saw all people as children of God. He loved our class, and he loved you. I can't think of anyone more unlovable more hateful in high school than me. But he loved me anyway.
David was a humble man. He learned early on that there is no I in team. Regardless of our circumstances, we are no better than anyone else or worse. The question is, even if I am struggling, will I do all in my power to be better today than yesterday? Too often, we see things as me against you or them. We must know who the real enemy is. The real enemy I face is me. It's personal. David knew the enemy. He loved and cared enough for me to help me recognize the enemy for who it was and show me how to defeat it. In the years we spent as friends, some 60+, he was my guide and mentor in matters of the spirit. It is easy for people to see the monsters we have on the outside, but it takes a person with love, care, and humility to see the light in the darkness, the good in evil. David was that man. He had that vision and would share it with all who would listen. Even when not in his right mind, David brought joy, love, and caring into the lives of those around him. Having a little piece of David in our lives might not hurt. It certainly hasn't hurt me.
David loved music. He loved to sing and play the banjo. He especially enjoyed the old hymns and a few more modern ones. I opened with a quote, and I want to end this with an old hymn. David spent most of his life in various parts of Africa, and this African spiritual hymn was a favorite of his. "Swing Low" celebrates death as the time one leaves this world to be carried home to glory. The joy of what's ahead, "a band of angels coming after me," acknowledges that my work on this earth is done. "Tell all my friends I am coming to" is a statement that binds us all together. We have lost many people that mean so much to us, but our sadness and sorrow are only temporary. We will soon be reunited. The day I depart this world is not wrapped in darkness; instead, a blinding light is driving the darkness away. Yes, life comes with ups and downs. We may know " the triumph of high achievement," or if, at worst, we fail, at least we fail while daring greatly.
For David, the chariot swung low and has carried him home. As we grow old and die off, we must leave all we have to give on the field. We must leave it all behind to our loved ones, families, and friends, the ugly, hateful, unlovable, the lonely, and left out. We were given what we got for that purpose to leave it behind. Love, care, compassion, and humility, I leave these to you. "May our place never be with those cold and timid souls who knew neither victory nor defeat." Give all you've got.
There are no words I can appropriately pen about David's life and death. The world was/is a better place for his presence. I am a better man for his friendship.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
1 I looked over Jordan, and what did I see,
Coming for to carry me home.
A band of angels coming after me,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
2 If you get there before I do,
Coming for to carry me home.
Tell all my friends I'm coming too,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
3 The brightest day that ever I saw
Coming for to carry me home.
When Jesus washed my sins away,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
4 I'm sometimes up and sometimes down,
Coming for to carry me home.
But still my soul feels heavenly bound,
Coming for to carry me home. Oh, [Refrain]
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Swing low, sweet chariot,
Coming for to carry me home.
Pen Pal?
I have mentioned before the importance of reaching out to our classmates who are hurting for any reason. I was wrong. We need to reach out to our classmates, family, and friends, depending on the circumstances.
I apologize that it took the loss of my closest friend to recognize this fact. I have not done this before, but it needs to become regular with you and me as our class continues to shrink.
I have gotten Debbie Bliss's permission to share her email with us so that we can share our thoughts, prayers, or stories about David that we think she would like to hear. So please do as you feel led to do.
Debbie's email is dpeckbliss@gmail.com.
Thank you.
Many of our class have heard that David Bliss died on December 31, 2022. Debbie Bliss, Dave's wife, sent me the following regarding David's celebration of life. I will share any other information regarding the service as it becomes available.
Hi Roger -
I’ve booked our church sanctuary for February 25th at 11 am.
First Pres San Diego at 320 Date St.
It will be live-streamed and accessible later from the church website.
If there is anything that you would like to know, please get in touch with me, and I will do the best I can to answer your question.
Make 2023 a great year!
Posted on: Dec 31, 2022 at 7:06 PM
It is done. I am thankful that I have had three years to prepare for this moment, but as many of you already know, there is no such thing as preparing for a loved one's death or, in this case, a friend's.
David Swanson Bliss died on this day, December 31, 2022. David was prepared for his passing, but likely no one else. We can prepare for death, but the finality of death, the passing and, for evermore, absence, of our loved one, is quite another. If there is nothing else in this world that you and I share, it is the finality of the death of family or friends.
I want to share things with you who knew David or knew about him but now is not the time.
As we begin a new year, our 77th year for most of us, tomorrow will be the first time we share this life without David.
Like many of you, I will have to share David's services, such as they may be, from afar. However, I will let you know as I find out in case you can and would like to participate. If you need to get in touch with me, my email is manyhandsfarm@gmail.com, and my phone or text is 717-658-7114.
Do not take another day for granted. Happy New Year! Make it a great one regardless of your circumstances. Your life is in your hands.
Posted on: Dec 13, 2022 at 10:44 AM
Have you been naughty or nice this year? Has this been a good or rough year for you, your family, and your friends? The month of December has historically been a tough one for many of us. Do you remember the loss of a loved one, struggling with ill-health thinking this might be your last December with all of its celebrations, or maybe financial losses? It's a lot of "stuff" to overcome. With all that is going on with your life, getting out of bed is sometimes a challenge." So do you want to make it more challenging? Let's bring Covid back, throw in a bit of inflation, a lot of inflation, and what happens now? Our kids, grandkids, family, and friends will need us more than ever. And that is our fundamental challenge, but what about me?
I am not trying to lecture, preach or do anything else, but I want to encourage you. Over the years, I have had my share of struggles, most of which were of my own making. But, unfortunately, I would fall into the "Oh, woes is me" mindset, thinking it was someone else's fault or that circumstances were aligned against me. That thinking made it harder for me, But then came a Christmas, and I saw the light.
I was in a large city trying to get my "self-imposed" last-minute shopping (looking for those bargains), and I ran across a down on his luck, looking, guy. He looked like a panhandler trying to score cash for drinks, drugs, or whatever. I wished him a Merry Christmas and kept on walking. I got a few steps past him when he called me, "Hey, mister, wait a minute, wait a minute." You probably know what I was thinking. Against my better judgment, I turned around and said, "yeah, what do you need?" He said, "I don't need anything, but I want to buy you a cup of coffee." Say what?
We went into the coffee shop behind us, and he bought me a cup of coffee. We sat down, and a very enlightening conversation took place. I was looking for the hook, the scam. What is this guy after? My first question was, "what do you need or want?" He responded, "you looked like you could use a cup of coffee and some Christmas cheer." He delivered on both counts. I had the coffee but was skeptically waiting for the Christmas cheer.
He told me that he and his wife had no kids and that she died a couple of years ago of a brain aneurysm at Christmas. First, she sneezed, and then she was dead. He was devastated and spent the next six or seven months feeling sorry for himself and damning his luck. Why him? Why her?
His friend gave him the wisdom that he said changed his life. His friend told him it was alright to grieve, but the time had come for him to stop feeling sorry for himself and start doing things for other people. He said his friend had told him that the best way to stop feeling sorry for yourself is to help someone else, and that was what he was doing. He had been doing things for others throughout the year, but December was special for him, and he loved seeing the people's faces when he offered to buy them breakfast, lunch, coffee, or the occasional dinner. He said his biggest thrill came when he would walk around a toy store and see a kid looking longingly at something his parents weren't going to able to buy for him, and he would buy it for him and give it to him or his parents on their way out the door.
My coffee-buying new friend said he no longer had time to feel sorry for himself; he was too busy thinking of ways to help others. That was one hell of a cup of coffee. I can attest that it works, but I can't say that I do it as often or as well as he did, but I know it works.
Where am I going with all of this? This may not have been the best of years for you, your family, and your friends, or it was. Either way, the truth remains the same to get out of your funk, stop thinking of yourself and think of others. Focus on others, and your life will be good regardless of circumstances.
If we turn our focus from us to others, our losses won't seem as significant. We are incredibly fortunate to have all these people coming to us to give us a chance to make us feel good. The key is what we do to make them feel better and help us feel better. Simply put, we help ourselves by helping others.
That was a damn good cup of coffee.
Make this December a season full of joy and a season full of giving.
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