Weekly Photo Challenge: Nostalgic

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Dad is second from the left in the front.

My father is Ray Ludwig.  He’s traveled in ministry most of my life and can play a Hammond B-3 like you wouldn’t believe!  He’s preached and ministered through music all over the world and has traveled in ministry with Kenneth Copeland, Jimmy Swaggart, Doris Akers (composer of “Sweet, Sweet Spirit”), the late Hilton Sutton (one of his closest friends), the late Dr. C.M. Ward (Revivaltime Radio Broadcast), Roger McDuff, and so many others.  This picture is from the 1950s when Daddy was traveling with various Gospel quartets.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my father lately.  I am undeniably proud of my Dad and his story, but more than anything, I love him.

Family Haiku (Non-traditional) (Re-posted from June 29, 2012)

elder son, Joel

intimidating young man

filled with compassion

 

younger son, Christian

exasperating, witty

simply beautiful

 

the man, the dad, Charles

nurturing male mother, calm

azure-eyed soul-mate

 

root, sprout one, sprout two

home-grown trilogy of men

three vines in one

Sunday Dinner (Re-posted from June 25, 2012)

The Doxology is barely off of my tongue

Shoulders still ablaze from the sizzling streams of daylight pouring through the car windows

Darting from the backseat of the old, yellow Dodge

and scampering to the first clanking, then squeaking gate

racing up the sidewalk and the cracked concrete stairs

Porch.  Living room.  Dining room.

How innocently this banquet lies in waiting

though it has been teasing my mind and palate since the onset of the sermon

Table spilling over with home-cooked devotion

Platters placed purposefully by the experienced hands of the Patriarch and Matriarch

Round chargers layered with ripened, ruby red tomatoes

salted and peppered to perfection

Purple onions, similarly arranged and vying for recognition

Steaming bowls of the garden’s bounty

Sunny squash mingled with bacon and onions that were minced on the striped, wooden cutting board

Pepper-sprinkled, creamy alabaster potatoes

dripping with a russet-hued elixir that was birthed in the worn iron skillet

Golden cornbread with a touch of sugar spooned in

Creamed butter whipped till it curls like a wisp of smoke

Plastic lids removed from blue tubs, revealing faux butter for those who insist upon it

Roasted beef disguised by a mountain of scallions and candied carrots

Fried chicken forming a mountain on a cookie sheet (We are proud Southerners, after all)

Pink roses on a glass canvas

a glass canvas that is filled with iced tea

its sweetness strengthening

as the saccharin tablets are secretly plopped in by tricky tribesmen

unaware of each other’s imbibing intentions

Clunky rectangular hunks of ice stacked upon one another in diverse drinking glasses

Bubbly, flaky peach cobbler

no box in sight (Mrs. Smith is never invited)

No “how-to” booklets or stained pieces of paper needed

They know it all by heart

Chairs of wood and metal congregated in a tight round

Houstonphonebooks stacked high for the diminutive members of the clan

Mismatched plates, glasses, and flatware

but never the mugs

always pale green, Fire King mugs

filled with sugary, beige coffee

brewed in a clear glass percolator

Tell Mel Tormé to scat away

the hi-fi only broadcasts our laughter

The Doxology carries on, everlasting

I lift my pale green, Fire King mug of sugary, beige coffee

and breathe the scent in, deeply

Reminiscing.   Musing.  Evoking those flashes of memory

and satisfaction

and home-cooked devotion

and hunger for that same old repast

Still Flirting, After All These Years

Footsie

I couldn’t resist this shot.  Mom and I were waiting in the emergency room with my Dad last week and they were steadily bumping each other’s feet.  They weren’t talking to one another and Dad was rather groggy.  Even so, they were steadily tapping one another’s toes.

Mom and Dad will celebrate their 50th year of marriage and flirting in several months.  We’ve been through a lot, as a family, over the past year and a half.  Dad has been in and out of the hospital with various issues.  It’s amazing to see how love endures through all circumstances.

To another 50 years of playing footsie.