I COULDN’T EVEN SPELL…

Six munths ago, I culdn’t even spel Foren Corruspontent, and now I are one!

It’s 4:28 a.m. EGT (Eastern God’s Time). I’m sitting in a very dark room, talking to my always nearby companion, my micro-cassette recorder. My brain is trying to feed my mouth. I’m trying to figure out what I should tell all you fine folks who are going to visit this page. What kind of introduction could I give you in 25 words or less? As the muse began to flow, I suddenly realized that we don’t own a cat!

You see, I’ve been this Mystery Man for awhile. That’s been pretty neat, because it hasn’t required me to actually say or do anything! All I had to do was look pretty for the picture! Maybe I’ll tell you more about this very special picture down the road a bit.

My Granddaddy was a plumber most of his life. When he was two years old, he traveled in a Conestoga wagon from southern Minnesota, along the Oregon Trail, to Oregon,and then on to Spokane, Washington. My Grandmother was a homemaker, a woman of great faith and a fine bass singer.

When I came into this world, I was just a little guy. I ate, slept, belped, burched, and carried on the normal natural functions. I’ve been told that I was pretty cute. I’m not about to argue with anyone who would call me cute!

Jesus became the Lord and Savior of my life when I was about 7 years old. At the age of 10, I believed that God wanted me to eventually work full-time for Him. Well, that came to pass.

My first name is Jerry (named after my aunt, Geraldine). My middle name is Ray (named after my Granddaddy’s first name, Raymond). I’ve been so glad over the years that I wasn’t given the name “Dean” for a middle name in honor of my aunt. Can you imagine a boy named Gerald Dean? Or a boy named Sue? Grant calls me “PapaJ”. That’s actually one of the better things I’ve been called over the years!

In my early twenties, I got to be a father – three times. My kids called me “Daddy”. The few times I ever thought about Grandfatherhood, I assumed that if the Lord blessed me with grandchildren, they would call me “Granddaddy” because that’s what I called my Granddaddy and he was the neatest Granddaddy in all the world.

However, in my wife Pat’s family, the fathers and grandfathers were called “Papa”. My first grandchild came from that side of the family and grew up naturally calling me Papa Jerry. Well, I loved it and it stuck. The next three have called me Papa, our grown children call me Papa, even my wife’s mom (whom I deeply adore) calls me Papa.