I want to tell this story while it's fresh in my mind. It would've happened sooner than this, but I had an auto accident and am still recovering.
Way back when I first started this site I received an email from a gentleman whom had met my father as a child, then later as an adult tracked him down and called him. They chatted about the show, guns, knives, memories and such.
A promise was made that as soon as Mike made it down from Nebraska, they'd get together. It wasn't long after, Dad passed away.
I've never "Promoted" this site, never listed it with search engines, I'm not even sure if it has a feed other than feedburner. If people find it they find it by searching for "Foreman Scotty" on whatever SE they use.
In the beginning, say five years ago, I did the whole Face book thing and found it wanting...still too new a social networking site. This summer I gave it a whirl again.
Lo and behold, there pops up Mike from Nebraska as a friend request.
We chatted on and off. Mike grew up part of his childhood in the same neighborhood my parents lived in when I was born. Like so many "Foreman Scotty's Kids" now grown, he'd held onto his golden horseshoe, a pocket knife Dad had given to him at the State Fair one year in lieu of being allowed to hold his gun. (my how times have changed)...
...but most precious of all were the memories of the childhood summer evenings spent reenacting the days, or weeks episodes with friends. Arguing over whom was to be which character, this and that.
Being a single parent doesn't come easy. It's a job one never gets paid for, but works their tail off in spite of. Ones entire existence revolves around what's best for your child or children. You do it through physical pain, emotional upheavals, financial downfalls, you do it with unmitigated love and selfless abandon.
My auto accident happened the week of my son's birthday. A series of unexpected financial demands placed me in the worst position a mother can be in facing a child's birthday.
Dear friends put together a party, but all my boy asked for were donations to our local humane society or animal rescue of the guests choice. That's it...that's what an eleven year old kiddo asked for on his invitations. When I was eleven, I'd have had a list two pages long...on legal pad.
I had mentioned to Mike in passing what ONE item it was my son had asked me for, but I had to promise my boy I'd make it up to him once I was back on my feet again. (Like I said, single parenting doesn't pay worth a darn monetarily speaking.)
Long story short, the day after my sons Birthday a package arrives with, not only the item, but the tiny pocket knife my Dad gave Mike so many years ago. Of course I'm crying, my son is jumping up and down unable to figure out:
One: Why mom was crying?
and Two: Where this all came from?
So I sat my boy down and told him the story...
It was at that point I think my kid really, REALLY got it. Not because of the material things, but because of how far reaching love can be. How goodness, kindness, and compassion span years and miles.
If we could all remember this as we go through each day, man, what a great world we'd live in.
L.A. Powell
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