The Oliverians From Haverhill, NH
As groups of volunteer students go, theirs was a small one, consisting of five students and two teachers. Originally, Barbara had expected eight individuals, split evenly along male-female lines, but a male student opted out at the last minute. John and Natalie were the leaders of the group, and the students were: Carmelle, Charlie, Greg, Heidi, and Jake. Both leaders teach English at the school and Natalie doubles as a dorm mom. The group is representative of the teachers and students of the Oliverian School in Haverhill, New Hampshire, a place I’d never heard of until Barbara told me the volunteer group was from there. According to the website of the school, the school’s mission is "to educate students who, despite experiencing difficulties, want to transition to a college preparatory setting where they are inspired and supported as they prepare to succeed in a complex, intricate and ever-changing world…We are committed to working with students who have chosen to ‘walk to the beat of a different drummer,’ [and with] [s]tudents who have found that more traditional schools have not met their emotional and/or academic needs, but who have made a decision to refocus and move toward building a more satisfying, healthy, and meaningful life…" The Oliverian School, established in 2003, is a private, non-denominational boarding school situated on an 1800 acre campus that dwarfs the acreage of the typical boarding school (150). Presently, the school has an enrollment of only fifty students, lagging well behind the average boarding school whose enrollment is 270 students. If the price of tuition for one year at the average boarding school, nationwide, seems pricey at $34,500, consider Oliverian’s tuition of $50,000 per year. However, these rates buy a lot of personal attention to the tune of a teacher/ student ratio of 1 to 3, where the classroom dress code is casual, not formal like most boarding schools. Soon after Barbara and I welcomed the Oliverians to Pontotoc, we invited them, as well as Ryan, to watch the Super Bowl at our house, once they had eaten supper. They liked the idea but didn’t commit. However, we gave them our phone number in case they decided to come over later. Barbara and I returned to our home, ate a quick supper, and resumed watching the Chicago Bears and the Indianapolis Colts vie for professional football’s highest honor, a chance to become world champions. Ryan soon arrived to enjoy the remainder of the game. He’s originally from Chicago and expressed his desire to see the Bears win. I, on the other hand, don’t have much use for the Bears, and since the Colt’s quarterback, Peyton Manning, is the son of former Ole Miss great, Archie Manning, I had a strong desire to see the Colts win the championship. The second half of the game had just begun when John phoned to say they were nearing our house. John and three of the students, Greg, Heidi, and Mel, had decided to watch the game, while the remainder of the group made a trip to Wal-Mart. Mel, short for Carmelle, spied a few National Geographic magazines in the living room and noticed our copy of National Geographic’s hardcover book "The Photographs," which features the best of the photos published to date by the renowned Society. "I love National Geographic magazines. My mom has several years of issues at her house. I’m also interested in photography. Would you mind if I looked at your book over there?" she asked, pointing to the book on the stand beside the piano. "Not at all," I responded, "but come here, I want to show you something." I led Mel to the bookcases in our master bedroom where four of the bookshelves display more than thirty-five years of my National Geographic magazines. "At the end of this year, I will have fifty years worth of National Geographics," I boasted, as her eyes widened to take in the sight. "Most of them are in this room and go back to 1965, but I don’t have slipcovers for the ones from ’58 to ’65, and those are in cardboard boxes in my computer room. She was impressed, and before one dismisses her admiration of my geographic collection or attributes such to youthful exuberance, one should consider that Mel is a natural born citizen of Israel, her mother lives and works in Washington, D.C., her father heads a commune in Israel, and Mel is fluent in three languages, English, Hebrew, and Spanish. It’s not like she grew up in rural Arkansas and never traveled more than fifty miles from home.
Mel told me that she likes to cut out her favorite pictures from her mom’s
Geographics, so I didn’t want to leave her alone with my collection,
which, as far as I know, doesn’t have any pages or pictures missing.
I sent Mel back to the living room with another book of pictures, National
Near the end of the football game, the rest of the visiting Oliverians returned from their shopping spree. To the dismay of our guests, who were mostly Bears’ fans, the Indianapolis Colts won the Super Bowl.
From what I observed, all the meals were appreciated and enjoyed. As is often the case with northern visitors to the Deep South, sweet tea quickly became their beverage of choice. Volunteer groups normally are given one day off work to spend sight-seeing or however they choose. That day is often a Wednesday or Thursday, but this group asked off Friday. They said their goodbyes to us Thursday evening following our meal at the Red Rooster and drove to Memphis, where they would spend two nights before flying back to New Hampshire on Saturday morning. There’s more going on behind the scenes of our earthly existence than any of us will ever know, short of a Divine revelation, but I believe God had good reason (an earthly term whose heavenly equivalent is not known) to direct the volunteer group to Pontotoc. They were scheduled to spend a week working for Habitat in Jonestown, MS, but those plans fell apart with the result being the group came to Pontotoc. Jonestown’s loss was Pontotoc’s gain. The opportunity for youth and adults from several churches to meet other youth from varied socio-economic, educational, and religious backgrounds may have played a part of God’s "good reason," and it may have been just as important to God that the visitors from New Hampshire be exposed to the diversity offered by our southern way of life and the hospitality we so willingly show. Though my contact with them was limited, as I got to know each of the students and teachers from the Oliverian School, I was greatly impressed with their politeness, their willingness to try new things, their participation in a valuable work effort on behalf of Habitat, and the potential each one has to be uniquely used by God to create a better society, and a better world than the one into which they breathed their first breaths of life. It is my prayer that the privileges enjoyed by each will not be squandered in self-indulgence, and that the lives of everyone with whom each of them come in contact will be enriched. Note: Additional photos are available at www.rrnews.org/oliverian/
Passport Problem For Lack Of An Escort Not long after getting my new car, my radar detector began blowing fuses. My first thoughts were the new car was the source of the problem, as there were a number of features I had discovered that were not to my liking, as well as fluctuating tire pressure, which was addressed in an earlier issue of this newsletter. Barbara bought the radar detector for me almost eight years ago, as a Fathers Day/ birthday gift, after I complained of my old detector chirping uncontrollably, sometimes even when I was in the proverbial middle of nowhere. I appreciated her thoughtfulness, as I probably would have done without or else bought a much less expensive radar detector than an Escort Passport 7500. My Passport worked nicely for roughly six years, but two years ago this month, it stopped detecting radar. I contacted Escort’s customer service and learned it could be repaired for a flat fee of fifty-dollars. I returned it; they fixed it, and life was good. I have mentioned this before, but it bears repeating: "With or without a radar detector, I try not to drive more than ten miles per hour above the posted speed limit. Yet, sometimes I find myself in a reduced speed zone before I realize it, and it's in that kind of a situation that I find a radar detector most useful in letting me know if a city policeman or trooper is nearby." www.rrnews.org/ri456.htm The fuse-blowing problem grew steadily worse, and while replacing the fuse in the power cord of the radar detector was not expensive, it was inconvenient. However, I might have continued replacing fuses had it not been for the fact that, as things grew worse, a fuse would blow as quickly as I replaced one and tried to power it on, rendering my detector useless. I phoned Escort customer service and learned the price of getting my unit repaired had increased to $79.95, but that’s a fraction of the cost of a new one. I asked about the price of a replacement Smart Cord as mine stopped working before the last time I needed Escort’s repair service. "We will replace both your power cords if they are defective, at no additional charge," she told me. That same day, I boxed up my detector and power cords and asked Barbara to express mail everything to Escort and insure the contents. I forgot to mention, second day shipping would be fine. Barbara sent it overnight, Federal Express, insured, and the total shipment ran me another thirty dollars. Eight days after receiving confirmation that the package had been received by Escort, I phoned customer service to ask the status of the repair. "Our records show that Jim received it on the sixth of February. He should get it out in the next day or so." "My records show you received the unit on the 31st of January," I complained. "Yes, but Jim only recently started working on yours," I was told. "Escort must be to radar detectors, what Maytag once was to washing machines, a business that needs very few repairmen," I thought. Five days later, UPS dropped a package from Escort at my front door. It was hardly the one-week turn around I expected, but I was truly glad to get it. The unit had been fine-tuned, or so stated the note from Jim, the repairman, and along with two new power cords, there was a windshield mount with an extra set of suction cups for mounting purposes. Like a kid at Christmas, I could not wait to assemble everything and test the equipment. Fortunately, no fuses blew. I plan to use the Smart Cord as it allows me to run the detector at night in stealth mode, which simply means I can dim the lights on the display (making the detector less obvious to other motorists), while relying on the alert light on the plug of the power cord to warn me of inbound radar. While I have the original windshield mount, somewhere around the house, I’ve never used it. However, I’m learning to like the one Escort sent me with the repaired unit. So far, it holds the detector firmly and does not block my view as much as I thought it would. With any luck, my reconditioned Passport will last me well into my retirement years.
Bodock Beau Children's Observations In one form or another the following, submitted by Ken Gaillard, has been in circulation for a while. Still, the preciousness of the observations of children is timeless and priceless.
NUDITY Jay Leno: In an interview with USA Today, Senator Barack Obama says the shortness of his political resume is his "greatest strength." Politics is the only business where people brag about how little experience they have. Can you imagine guys saying to you, "Look, I’ve never been to medical school, I’ve never even watched E.R., but if you just let me try and do this brain operation I’ll do the best job I can."
Ann Coulter: If Obama's biggest asset is his inexperience, then if
by the slightest chance he were elected and were to run for a second term,
he will have to claim he didn't learn anything the first four
years. Copyright © 2000 - 2007 RRN Online.
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The first of what will be several
groups of out-of-state students, arriving in 2007, to volunteer for Habitat
for Humanity flew into Memphis on February 4th before driving
to By Faith Baptist Church in Pontotoc. In case you’ve forgotten, that
was the day of the Super Bowl. However, life and work go on regardless of
America’s obsession with sports and sporting events. In fact, my wife,
Barbara, and I drove to the church to welcome the volunteers shortly before
half-time of the Super Bowl. Ryan Fuoss, Habitat’s volunteer coordinator,
was already at the church.
Of the nights the volunteer
group was in Pontotoc, Barbara and I spent time eating or fellowshipping
with them each night except for Wednesday, when the group ate at First Baptist
Church, Pontotoc. Sunday night was sandwich night, with the meal provided
by Linda and Keith Thomas. Monday night, Randolph Baptist Church fed the
group at Randolph. Tuesday night, Wanda Davis’s Sunday School Class
from First Baptist Church Pontotoc feed the group and on Thursday evening
Mrs. Julia Holmes and her sister, Mrs. Eleanor Rayburn, treated all of us
to a meal at the Red Rooster restaurant in Pontotoc.
