halfdime
Silver Member
Back in December, I received some very disturbing news from my son's teacher at school. No, halfdime Jr. didn't do anything bad, nor was he having difficulty in school; those kinds of things don't compare at all with what I learned. To simplify, we'll call the teacher Mrs. C. Years ago, I worked at a facility that serves mentally retarded adults; they still do, in fact, but I'm long gone. While there, I met a young woman we'll call Mrs. M; she and Mrs. C are sisters. There was a lot of employee turnover, and I was in positions that brought me into direct contact with hundreds of them. Long story short, Mrs. M was one of the finest people I met on the job; she's the only one who I never heard say an unkind word about or to anyone. I learned about ten years ago that Mrs. M was expecting twins, and they arrived sooner than expected, by about two months. This caused all sorts of health problems for the two boys early in their lives. They overcame the problems and thrived; the last time I actually saw them, in November, they were playing flag football at the YMCA. Back to the news. One of the twins was in Children's Hospital in need of a kidney transplant 
This, of course, is terrible news for anyone, and it had to be quite a blow to the M's. The transplant finally occurred in early February, with Mr. M donating the kidney that is keeping his son alive.
As you might imagine, even with insurance, the M's have incurred expenses beyond their means. The community around them has pitched in with a variety of fundraisers to help them out, and I discovered that their church was helping them, too. Whenever the halfdime family gets paid (mainly Mrs. halfdime), the first obligation we pay is to our church or other ministries we believe in. We concluded that this was a ministry we wanted to help with, so I began mailing checks toward that end. Two weeks ago, I was in the vicinity of the church so I called to see if I could drop off my check rather than mail it; I thought it would be put to use faster that way. The pastor, who I had never met, was there to receive the check and asked how I knew the M's. Two hours later, after a delightful conversation about all sorts of things, I finally had to take care of other errands. In the meantime, however, the pastor mentioned a church camp he was in charge of; it was an old farm, then a railroad vacation camp and for almost 50 years it's been a church camp. You know, of course, where I'm going with this.
The pastor was enthusiastic about what I might find at the camp; he told me of his own incredible discovery in the attic of the farmhouse. Some time back, he found a collection of dinner and dessert plates from the dining cars of the railroad in question. Again, long story short, those plates helped to build two dorms ($$$)! Today was the day I got my introduction to the camp. It didn't take long to conclude that it has already been searched, but the TNet mantra is "It's never hunted out."
I wandered to various spots around the camp; the pastor knew where things had been, and what they had been used for. Had I been the first, the finds would have been staggering, I'm sure. As it is, I have to find what's left. Today, that was a 41 Merc, 35 and 45 Wheats and a pair of Memorials. I gave the pastor the Merc and the 35, so I don't have a picture; we've all seen those before, anyway. There is a lot of area to search, and I have permission to do it; it's a place where the kids can play while I detect, so we'll go back.
As the afternoon drew to a close, the pastor was sighting a .22 rifle and we took some target practice. I consider myself a pretty fair coinshooter, but I haven't fired a gun in at least 30 years. Not only did I hit the target, I did very well. It would never replace detecting as my passion, but it was fun.
This, of course, is terrible news for anyone, and it had to be quite a blow to the M's. The transplant finally occurred in early February, with Mr. M donating the kidney that is keeping his son alive.As you might imagine, even with insurance, the M's have incurred expenses beyond their means. The community around them has pitched in with a variety of fundraisers to help them out, and I discovered that their church was helping them, too. Whenever the halfdime family gets paid (mainly Mrs. halfdime), the first obligation we pay is to our church or other ministries we believe in. We concluded that this was a ministry we wanted to help with, so I began mailing checks toward that end. Two weeks ago, I was in the vicinity of the church so I called to see if I could drop off my check rather than mail it; I thought it would be put to use faster that way. The pastor, who I had never met, was there to receive the check and asked how I knew the M's. Two hours later, after a delightful conversation about all sorts of things, I finally had to take care of other errands. In the meantime, however, the pastor mentioned a church camp he was in charge of; it was an old farm, then a railroad vacation camp and for almost 50 years it's been a church camp. You know, of course, where I'm going with this.
The pastor was enthusiastic about what I might find at the camp; he told me of his own incredible discovery in the attic of the farmhouse. Some time back, he found a collection of dinner and dessert plates from the dining cars of the railroad in question. Again, long story short, those plates helped to build two dorms ($$$)! Today was the day I got my introduction to the camp. It didn't take long to conclude that it has already been searched, but the TNet mantra is "It's never hunted out."
I wandered to various spots around the camp; the pastor knew where things had been, and what they had been used for. Had I been the first, the finds would have been staggering, I'm sure. As it is, I have to find what's left. Today, that was a 41 Merc, 35 and 45 Wheats and a pair of Memorials. I gave the pastor the Merc and the 35, so I don't have a picture; we've all seen those before, anyway. There is a lot of area to search, and I have permission to do it; it's a place where the kids can play while I detect, so we'll go back.
As the afternoon drew to a close, the pastor was sighting a .22 rifle and we took some target practice. I consider myself a pretty fair coinshooter, but I haven't fired a gun in at least 30 years. Not only did I hit the target, I did very well. It would never replace detecting as my passion, but it was fun.
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