A great way to start a Saturday

    Hi everyone,

    Running a bit late this morning. Sandy and I sat out by the lake with coffee and cereal and enjoyed the morning breeze. I couldn’t get motivated to leave that spot.

    Yesterday I took a picture of a yellow-winged mayfly freshly emerged and clinging to a window so it seemed to be hanging in space. I worried that a bird would break its neck rushing after such a succulent looking meal. Today the bug is gone and there are no bird bodies so either the mayfly flew away or it became the meal of a more worldly bird than I had imagined. Sadly, I’ve just learned that my picture file is full from so many years of posting so I have to figure out how to make more room or delete some of the older pictures. Hopefully, I can add the mayfly a little later today.

    Advertisements

Gamble’s Retirement Sale

Hi everyone,

Sandy and I have decided to retire from business and close out our wonderful gift store, Gamble’s. The process of winding down began May 1 and will continue through the end of this month or into early June. Discounts are from 50-60% on all products storewide.

We bought the store from Franklin Gamble in December 1984, more than thirty-three years ago. When our original partners, Larry and Maryann Wakefield, sold us their half after a few years, we continued to operate the store.

For Sandy, this has been more than a business, it has been an important part of her life. She rarely misses spending at least part of the day at the store and we’ve lost track of the number of trips to gift markets in Atlanta, New York, Kansas City, Dallas, San Francisco, and Las Vegas to find fresh lines of gifts to bring to Springfield.

Gamble’s has long been recognized as a premier gift store. “A gift from Gamble’s say it all.” For decades our store has been the largest Waterford Crystal dealer in the area. We’ve been the only Lladro dealer in southwest Missouri and surrounding areas. Over the years the store has provided Baccarat Crystal, Lalique Crystal, numerous other fine crystals, hundreds of patterns of china, and an enormous variety of other product lines.

This has been an extremely difficult decision. I know my wife is going to miss the daily pleasure of serving her friends and customers, many of whom have been loyal to Gamble’s since their parents used to bring them in when they were children.

If you live in the area and would like to visit one of the oldest gift stores in the region before it goes out of existence, please stop in to see Sandy and our helpful, knowledgeable staff — Pam, Brenda, Stephanie, and Jan — and take advantage of the prices. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and whatever you purchase will be on hand when you need it for some upcoming occasion.

Our address is 2704 S. Glenstone in the Brentwood Shopping Center across from the Mall. Phone number is 417-881-7555.
https://www.news-leader.com/story/news/business/2015/05/16/gambles-gifts-stands-test-time/27449093/ https://gamblesgifts.bridgecatalog.com

Don’t let the construction up and down the center throw you. We’re open! But not for much longer.

Happy Mother’s Day!

Hi everyone,

It’s a beautiful day here for celebrating mothers and I’ve already found a pair of lovelies in the kitchen, my own sweetie and her/our long time dear friend, Elaine Fry.

This afternoon daughter Robin with hubby Tim and son Kris will join the festivities at Goose Lake. We’ll remember my mother Neva and Sandy’s mother Kathleen and tell favorite stories about them.

Wherever you are, I wish you a wonderful day. To quote son Jeff from his reflections as small boy: “Mothers are good things. If you have one, try her and you will see.” (If that’s not quite it, Jeff, I think it captures the spirit.)

What mates do for mates

Hi everyone,

When I agreed to visit a primary school in Kirksville, I decided to drive up on Sunday — it’s more than a four hour drive — to be there at 8:00 Monday morning. I wasn’t excited about making the trip, but that’s the way it goes sometimes.

Sandy surprised me by saying she was going with me. She knew there would be little for her to do Monday while I was working, but she went anyway, and the drive was far more enjoyable than I had anticipated.

Yesterday, while I spent the day at Kirksville Primary School giving eight 30-minute talks, Sandy whiled away the hours waiting for me, much of it in the hotel lobby where we’d spent the night. She picked me up after school and we drove back home, arriving at 7:00.

Mates do acts of kindness for mates. I offer this as a great example. Thank you, Sweetheart. I love you.

The gift

Hi everyone,

Our son Jeff Harrison pulled this poem from the files. I wrote it about Sandy’s father, Ralph Kennon, after he died. One day Sandy and I cleaned out her dad’s clothes closet, a sad task, but the act stirred many pleasant memories and the poem grew from them. I offer it here today because I’ve enjoyed thinking back to all those good times and want to share this glimpse into a fine man and his life.

The Gift

I fold his clothes,
recognizing some,
like old acquaintances
not met for a while
that recall stories of the man.

Checking jacket pockets,
my hand pulls out a program:
Westminster Presbyterian, 1996.
They spent most Sundays cooking,
bringing food to share,
left little time to collect
church programs.

This pocket yields a wrapper,
the candy sucked, I’m guessing,
as he crossed a parking lot
keys in hand.
The toothpick’s in here too.

This paperclip? Easy.
Bet he went to the bank that day,
took a deposit, kept the clip.
Waste not want not he’d say.

Black comb, hip pocket.
He had such beautiful hair:
thick, wavy, bright white.
She liked to comb it.
He liked that too.

A man of routine, keeper of receipts,
planner of pool shots,
pitcher of pennies;
ate out on Tuesday,
bowled on Friday,
attended high school reunions.
Organized his clothes front to back,
newest by the door transitioning
by age in a slow march toward the rear.

These pants at the back say garden.
I can see him there,
behind the garage,
tilling his beloved soil,
scooping out rows
like doodlebug holes,
dripping in seeds,
soaking with that old green hose,
intent on the joys
of working alone in the sun.

I fold his clothes,
fill boxes, make lists.
They’re just clothes, really,
without the man.
Whoever gets them
won’t get the stories.

I kept nothing when he died
but now I know
I’ll keep these stories
like books from a library
checked out to cherish again.

Life records it memories.
I fold his clothes
and give thanks.

(C) David L. Harrison, all rights reserved