Small Town, Big Love

I grew up in a small mountain town where no one was a stranger.

Gracie, with coal-black hair and fire-red nail polish, was the cashier at the grocery store.  Sammy was the butcher.  His smiling brown face greeted my Mother, as he held up 2 pounds of fresh, lean ground beef for her approval, before wrapping it in white butcher paper.

Mr. C, the county sheriff, sitting at his wooden desk stacked high with paperwork, always waved and called to me when I walked by his office window, on my way to the library.  His cheery voice rang out the cherished nickname he gave to me alone.

No matter where I went, people knew whose kid I was…and I was proud of that.  Family resemblance spelled my name perfectly.

My school teachers seemed to know more about me than I did.  Many were long time residents who had taught my older brothers and sisters.

High School years meant classes with teachers who were legends.  They were the best and they were tough, demanding dedication to the task of being the best you could be. They were highly respected pillars in the community for decades, because they deserved it.

Misbehaving at school wasn’t a good idea for lots of reasons. There wouldn’t be any escape; I’d be seeing my teacher face to face at church, at the dime store, or just down the street where she lived. The few times I “tested” my teachers were memorable…because it didn’t feel one bit good inside.  Mostly, everyone behaved at school because we loved our teachers, and they loved us.

The neighborhood where I grew up was a mix of households with revolving doors.  Lots of kids, in and out; all day, every summer, after school, over night, Saturday mornings.  There was always room for one more at the supper table.  Even then, we used our best manners because we were “guests” in someone else’ s home.  The neighborhood moms loved everybody, and we loved them.

We made our own clubs, teams and games, sometimes at a moment’s notice with incredible imagination, and no adult supervision or coaching.  We didn’t compete in order to beat each other out; we just played.

Can we get there from here?

Time passes and change happens.  But some things stay the same:  People never outgrow the need for Love and its influence on life at every level.

Today when I hear parents pleading for better schools, or people longing for a “sense of community,” I know what they’re trying to say.  They really want what I had in that small mountain town; in my school and neighborhood.

It’s something that can’t be legislated or mandated, and it won’t ever be achieved by dumping more money into schools.  It can’t be faked…and there’s no substitute for it.  But isn’t this the route we’ve been following?  We’re lost!

If you want Love where you live and in your schools, you have to take it there and make it happen.

We have tools available to help you and more on the way.

Subscribe to TG Connection and get immediate, free access to vital introductory information.

PLUS…

Our team member, Elaine, has authored a book, Gimpy’s Secret . . . it’s what’s missing. This book presents the basic elements of Love in a story that is easy to read and easy to remember.  It’s impacting the lives of people from age 4 to 93 years old.  Check it out here

We have taken this message into schools and it’s making a difference.  You can do it too.

Consider this an open invitation.  Go for it!

Love,

Cath

How many of Love’s Pillars and/or Elements can you identify in this story about my hometown?  I would love to hear from you in the comment box below.


*TG Connection is dedicated to bringing information from The Technology of Love (TOL) to ordinary people for the extraordinary purpose of awakening the world to the power of Love.

There are no comments yet. Be the first and leave a response!

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Small Town, Big Love

I grew up in a small mountain town where no one was a stranger.

Gracie, with coal-black hair and fire-red nail polish, was the cashier at the grocery store.  Sammy was the butcher.  His smiling brown face greeted my Mother, as he held up 2 pounds of fresh, lean ground beef for her approval, before wrapping it in white butcher paper.

Mr. C, the county sheriff, sitting at his wooden desk stacked high with paperwork, always waved and called to me when I walked by his office window, on my way to the library.  His cheery voice rang out the cherished nickname he gave to me alone.

No matter where I went, people knew whose kid I was…and I was proud of that.  Family resemblance spelled my name perfectly.

My school teachers seemed to know more about me than I did.  Many were long time residents who had taught my older brothers and sisters.

High School years meant classes with teachers who were legends.  They were the best and they were tough, demanding dedication to the task of being the best you could be. They were highly respected pillars in the community for decades, because they deserved it.

Misbehaving at school wasn’t a good idea for lots of reasons. There wouldn’t be any escape; I’d be seeing my teacher face to face at church, at the dime store, or just down the street where she lived. The few times I “tested” my teachers were memorable…because it didn’t feel one bit good inside.  Mostly, everyone behaved at school because we loved our teachers, and they loved us.

The neighborhood where I grew up was a mix of households with revolving doors.  Lots of kids, in and out; all day, every summer, after school, over night, Saturday mornings.  There was always room for one more at the supper table.  Even then, we used our best manners because we were “guests” in someone else’ s home.  The neighborhood moms loved everybody, and we loved them.

We made our own clubs, teams and games, sometimes at a moment’s notice with incredible imagination, and no adult supervision or coaching.  We didn’t compete in order to beat each other out; we just played.

Can we get there from here?

Time passes and change happens.  But some things stay the same:  People never outgrow the need for Love and its influence on life at every level.

Today when I hear parents pleading for better schools, or people longing for a “sense of community,” I know what they’re trying to say.  They really want what I had in that small mountain town; in my school and neighborhood.

It’s something that can’t be legislated or mandated, and it won’t ever be achieved by dumping more money into schools.  It can’t be faked…and there’s no substitute for it.  But isn’t this the route we’ve been following?  We’re lost!

If you want Love where you live and in your schools, you have to take it there and make it happen.

We have tools available to help you and more on the way.

Subscribe to TG Connection and get immediate, free access to vital introductory information.

PLUS…

Our team member, Elaine, has authored a book, Gimpy’s Secret . . . it’s what’s missing. This book presents the basic elements of Love in a story that is easy to read and easy to remember.  It’s impacting the lives of people from age 4 to 93 years old.  Check it out here

We have taken this message into schools and it’s making a difference.  You can do it too.

Consider this an open invitation.  Go for it!

Love,

Cath

How many of Love’s Pillars and/or Elements can you identify in this story about my hometown?  I would love to hear from you in the comment box below.


*TG Connection is dedicated to bringing information from The Technology of Love (TOL) to ordinary people for the extraordinary purpose of awakening the world to the power of Love.

There are no comments yet. Be the first and leave a response!

Leave a Reply

Wanting to leave an <em>phasis on your comment?

Trackback URL http://www.tgconnection.org/philosophy/small-town-big-love/trackback/

Small Town, Big Love

I grew up in a small mountain town where no one was a stranger.

Gracie, with coal-black hair and fire-red nail polish, was the cashier at the grocery store.  Sammy was the butcher.  His smiling brown face greeted my Mother, as he held up 2 pounds of fresh, lean ground beef for her approval, before wrapping it in white butcher paper.

Mr. C, the county sheriff, sitting at his wooden desk stacked high with paperwork, always waved and called to me when I walked by his office window, on my way to the library.  His cheery voice rang out the cherished nickname he gave to me alone.

No matter where I went, people knew whose kid I was…and I was proud of that.  Family resemblance spelled my name perfectly.

My school teachers seemed to know more about me than I did.  Many were long time residents who had taught my older brothers and sisters.

High School years meant classes with teachers who were legends.  They were the best and they were tough, demanding dedication to the task of being the best you could be. They were highly respected pillars in the community for decades, because they deserved it.

Misbehaving at school wasn’t a good idea for lots of reasons. There wouldn’t be any escape; I’d be seeing my teacher face to face at church, at the dime store, or just down the street where she lived. The few times I “tested” my teachers were memorable…because it didn’t feel one bit good inside.  Mostly, everyone behaved at school because we loved our teachers, and they loved us.

The neighborhood where I grew up was a mix of households with revolving doors.  Lots of kids, in and out; all day, every summer, after school, over night, Saturday mornings.  There was always room for one more at the supper table.  Even then, we used our best manners because we were “guests” in someone else’ s home.  The neighborhood moms loved everybody, and we loved them.

We made our own clubs, teams and games, sometimes at a moment’s notice with incredible imagination, and no adult supervision or coaching.  We didn’t compete in order to beat each other out; we just played.

Can we get there from here?

Time passes and change happens.  But some things stay the same:  People never outgrow the need for Love and its influence on life at every level.

Today when I hear parents pleading for better schools, or people longing for a “sense of community,” I know what they’re trying to say.  They really want what I had in that small mountain town; in my school and neighborhood.

It’s something that can’t be legislated or mandated, and it won’t ever be achieved by dumping more money into schools.  It can’t be faked…and there’s no substitute for it.  But isn’t this the route we’ve been following?  We’re lost!

If you want Love where you live and in your schools, you have to take it there and make it happen.

We have tools available to help you and more on the way.

Subscribe to TG Connection and get immediate, free access to vital introductory information.

PLUS…

Our team member, Elaine, has authored a book, Gimpy’s Secret . . . it’s what’s missing. This book presents the basic elements of Love in a story that is easy to read and easy to remember.  It’s impacting the lives of people from age 4 to 93 years old.  Check it out here

We have taken this message into schools and it’s making a difference.  You can do it too.

Consider this an open invitation.  Go for it!

Love,

Cath

How many of Love’s Pillars and/or Elements can you identify in this story about my hometown?  I would love to hear from you in the comment box below.


*TG Connection is dedicated to bringing information from The Technology of Love (TOL) to ordinary people for the extraordinary purpose of awakening the world to the power of Love.

There are no comments yet. Be the first and leave a response!

Leave a Reply

Wanting to leave an <em>phasis on your comment?

Trackback URL http://www.tgconnection.org/philosophy/small-town-big-love/trackback/

Small Town, Big Love

I grew up in a small mountain town where no one was a stranger.

Gracie, with coal-black hair and fire-red nail polish, was the cashier at the grocery store.  Sammy was the butcher.  His smiling brown face greeted my Mother, as he held up 2 pounds of fresh, lean ground beef for her approval, before wrapping it in white butcher paper.

Mr. C, the county sheriff, sitting at his wooden desk stacked high with paperwork, always waved and called to me when I walked by his office window, on my way to the library.  His cheery voice rang out the cherished nickname he gave to me alone.

No matter where I went, people knew whose kid I was…and I was proud of that.  Family resemblance spelled my name perfectly.

My school teachers seemed to know more about me than I did.  Many were long time residents who had taught my older brothers and sisters.

High School years meant classes with teachers who were legends.  They were the best and they were tough, demanding dedication to the task of being the best you could be. They were highly respected pillars in the community for decades, because they deserved it.

Misbehaving at school wasn’t a good idea for lots of reasons. There wouldn’t be any escape; I’d be seeing my teacher face to face at church, at the dime store, or just down the street where she lived. The few times I “tested” my teachers were memorable…because it didn’t feel one bit good inside.  Mostly, everyone behaved at school because we loved our teachers, and they loved us.

The neighborhood where I grew up was a mix of households with revolving doors.  Lots of kids, in and out; all day, every summer, after school, over night, Saturday mornings.  There was always room for one more at the supper table.  Even then, we used our best manners because we were “guests” in someone else’ s home.  The neighborhood moms loved everybody, and we loved them.

We made our own clubs, teams and games, sometimes at a moment’s notice with incredible imagination, and no adult supervision or coaching.  We didn’t compete in order to beat each other out; we just played.

Can we get there from here?

Time passes and change happens.  But some things stay the same:  People never outgrow the need for Love and its influence on life at every level.

Today when I hear parents pleading for better schools, or people longing for a “sense of community,” I know what they’re trying to say.  They really want what I had in that small mountain town; in my school and neighborhood.

It’s something that can’t be legislated or mandated, and it won’t ever be achieved by dumping more money into schools.  It can’t be faked…and there’s no substitute for it.  But isn’t this the route we’ve been following?  We’re lost!

If you want Love where you live and in your schools, you have to take it there and make it happen.

We have tools available to help you and more on the way.

Subscribe to TG Connection and get immediate, free access to vital introductory information.

PLUS…

Our team member, Elaine, has authored a book, Gimpy’s Secret . . . it’s what’s missing. This book presents the basic elements of Love in a story that is easy to read and easy to remember.  It’s impacting the lives of people from age 4 to 93 years old.  Check it out here

We have taken this message into schools and it’s making a difference.  You can do it too.

Consider this an open invitation.  Go for it!

Love,

Cath

How many of Love’s Pillars and/or Elements can you identify in this story about my hometown?  I would love to hear from you in the comment box below.


*TG Connection is dedicated to bringing information from The Technology of Love (TOL) to ordinary people for the extraordinary purpose of awakening the world to the power of Love.

There are no comments yet. Be the first and leave a response!

Leave a Reply

Wanting to leave an <em>phasis on your comment?

Trackback URL http://www.tgconnection.org/philosophy/small-town-big-love/trackback/