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| FUMC - Oviedo, FL |
By the way, Oviedo has a special meaning for
me. I lived there when I was 6-9 years
old (1950-1954), and it floods my mind with golden memories. That's where we had a spoiled pet squirrel
that ate only shelled pecans, where my brother taught me to ride a bike and I
thereby learned that exhilarating accomplishment first entails assuming risks,
where I learned to tell time and spell "bicycle" and
"banana," where I learned that Santa shipped packages complete with
canceled stamps still on the box through the US mail--a Christmas morning dawn
of skepticism, where we boys hewed out a quiet sunlit chapel in the woods,
where I embarrassed mother by asking at the dinner table with the district
superintendent as our guest whether the spread she served that day was "real
butter"--it wasn't, where I happened upon a butterfly emerging from its
chrysalis, where dad raised Rhode Island Red chickens in a backyard pen, and
where while raking oak leaves in the front yard on Saturdays we heard Big Jon and Sparkie on radio . The home where we lived is still there, tucked
away on the expanded church campus and now used as an education building. The satin robe azaleas around the front of
the house that dad fertilized with chicken manure are now gone--but in fact
only, not from my awareness colored heavily by persistent memory.
Theme song introducing Big
Jon and Sparkie that would waft over our front yard Saturday mornings………..
(With special thanks to Frank Johnson for discovering this.)
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