CHAPTER 1

What a beginning

My wife grew up in a minister's home. She was ableto witness first hand what it was like dealingwith people because of her Dad's fifty plus yearsas a pastor. She always said there were three men she wouldnever marry. First was a preacher, second a pilot, and lastlya police officer. Isn't it wonderful to see firsthand that Godhas a real sense of humor? You see, she had planned to go tocollege at McNeese State in Lake Charles, Louisiana. In factshe had a full tuition there and could live at home since shelived in Westlake, a suburb of Lake Charles. It made perfectsense because the doors were opened for that to happen. Just acouple weeks before college was to start, her dad, who pastoreda local church, had a group of young men to minister in hischurch from Southwestern Assemblies of God College fromWaxahachie, Texas. While listening to the group sing andtalk about the college she got all these little doodads runningup and down her spine, and all the sudden she felt she mustgo to Southwestern. She talks to her dad about her change ofheart, so her dad checks with Southwestern office and findsout that she can still register for the fall semester, but he hasto get a government loan to pay for her college. He makes thearrangements and in two weeks she finds herself enrolled at achristian college in Texas. As school starts, she makes her waydown to the lobby one evening finding other students sittingaround the room getting acquainted and a few standing aroundthe grand piano singing. One of the guys standing around thepiano was a six foot four inch good looking preacher boy thathad enrolled in the bible school at Southwestern. That boywas me. My future wife would fall in love with me, a youngpreacher boy fixing to change the world for the better. Thatwas strike one.

After we got married on December 20, 1965 I becamefriends with a guy that was a pilot. He took me up a coupletimes for local flights and I was hooked! He introduced me tohis instructor and, he offered me the opportunity to learn to fly.For four hundred dollars I was guaranteed my ground school,my entire flying, ground school test, and the FAA flying test.Several years later I had a man that befriended me and toldme he owned two planes. He owned a little over five thousandacres of farmland, and while he didn't attend the church thatI pastored, he and I talked often, and I would fly with him onoccasion. One day he said, "Brother Steve, I don't have time tokeep my planes up by flying them, and it's hard on them tojust sit there and never get started. Would you mind flying myplanes, all you want to, and I'll even pay for the gas." I thoughtto myself that it just wouldn't be Christian to put a man in thatkind of bind. This man needed my help and, I guess it wouldjust not be right to refuse to help him. Needless to say, I got mycommercial rating and got to fly when I wanted to, and it didn'tcost me a dime. Later, I added my instrument, multi-engine,and airline transport pilot ratings. But for my wife, that wasstrike two.

I made friends with the chief of police and sheriff when Imoved to Muldrow, Oklahoma. Several times, the sheriff calledand asked me to fly one of his deputies around looking formarijuana, or an escaped prisoner, or a lost person. One dayI was asked if I would consider becoming a reserve officer. Ithought about it for a while and finally said yes. But a coupleyears into that relationship, the sheriff that had asked me to bea reserve officer got voted out of office. I was visiting with thechief of police in Muldrow one day, and he asked me to join histeam so I agreed to work for Muldrow and went to the policeacademy. After several years of being a reserve I was asked to bepart time and get paid for my work. So now I go from a reserve'ssilver badge, to a paid officers' gold badge. My poor wife; thatwas strike three.

You see God actually does have a sense of humor. My wifegot to marry not just one of the people she said she wouldnever marry, but she got all three. I've been called the three p'sfor several years. Actually I have added a fourth p because mygrandchildren call me Poppy (papa). All four p's have providedvery exciting times in my life. People have told me they wishedthey could have had my life because I've seen so much of theworld and had so much excitement. Yes, I have, and I want toshare a few of these adventures with you. Stories from a manthat doesn't have a PhD behind his name, but a ppp. I'm theppp or the 3 "p" man.

CHAPTER 2

A logcabin or a pigpen

November 13, 1945, in Pocola, Oklahoma, on the northside of backbone mountain there stood a little one-roomlog cabin on a dirt country road that ran east andwest. The décor was very simple and could best be describedas early frontier. There was a bed, a wood stove that was forboth heating and cooking and not much else. There was nobathroom so the only thing available was an outhouse thatwas located outside and away from the log living structure. Butouthouses were not that uncommon in those days. Althoughthere were a few neighbors beginning to build indoor toilets,it wasn't happening here. Money was hard to come by. Theresidents here had worked hard all their lives. The dad had quitschool in the second grade, saved 300 dollars by picking cottonand strawberries, bought and owned his own tire recappingshop. All by the time he was 13 years of age. Now here they are.The dad had just turned 19 years old just 6 days earlier, and thewife was 17 years old, and inside the one room log cabin with anold country doctor doing everything he knew to help the momwith the birth, but nothing worked. I forgot to mention therewas one more person there. Granny was a mid-wife, my granny,and she was there watching every move the doctor made. Butthere was trouble in the cabin that day.

When I finally came out to meet the big ole world, I wouldnot breathe for the doctor. He tried everything he knew butnothing worked, so after a time of working on me he gaveup, expressed his sorrow for them and left. But Granny hadbeen warming some water on the wood stove so when thedoctor left she had a pan of warm water, a pan of cold water,and a warm oven going. She grabbed me up and put me in thewarm water, then the cold water and worked with me till sheshocked me into breathing. She then placed me in the door ofthe oven and kept me warm, which became my own countryincubator. I'm sure glad granny was more stubborn than thelittle old country doctor. She held me in her arms all nightto make sure I kept breathing. From that time on, there wasalways a special relationship between granny and me. We hadthat special relationship until the day she died at the ripe ageof 94 years of age. Even then our relationship was special. Thefamily had been called to the bedside of granny because shewas closer to the next world than she was to this one. I was ayoung preacher and pilot by then, but I was there in that roombeside my granny. The hospital room was full of family andthey were all talking. Frankly it was noisy in the room withno one paying attention to granny who lay there in a coma.But I noticed her. I stepped nearer to her and stood at her side.After a few moments I said "granny, its ok. We know Jesusloves us don't we." All the sudden she raised her arm and withher little scrawny hands she grabbed my arm and squeezed myhand. The room became instantly quiet and everyone watchedgranny holding my hand. Then she turned loose of my hand andit wasn't long before she met Jesus in person.

One time, before granny's death, I had brought my twochildren over to see my special granny. As we drove by the placewhere once stood a little one-room log cabin, there stood a pigpin with a couple hogs in the pin. I said, "kids that is where Iwas born." My son said, "dad you were born in a pig pin?" I said"no, when I was born, there was a one room log cabin here".For years the story would change from my dad was born in apig pin, to dad was born in a one-room log cabin like AbrahamLincoln.

If I could have picked out my own parents, I would havepicked out the ones I got. But everyone tells me that my dadwas a rascal when he was young. He would travel with a case ofbeer in his vehicle and was a chain smoker. My mother was theconservative one and did not smoke or drink, but would attendchurch every time the doors were open. One night in September,1946, there was a meteor shower that made it appear like all thestars were falling. It frightened my dad so badly that he criedout to God to forgive him. He thought the world was comingto an end that night. Needless to say the world didn't end thatnight, but my dad's wild ways did. The next time the doors ofthe church were opened, my dad was there. He made his waydown to the alter, and now sixty-seven years later, he is stillin church every time the doors are opened. In fact, those yearsthat I pastored, I couldn't get him to spend a weekend withme because he had to get back to his own church. But that's oktoo, because I would rather have him a fanatic Christian andfaithful to his church than a drunk any time.

CHAPTER 3

Shot to deathor scared to death

When I was about thirteen years old, there wasan earth-shattering event that took place in ourfamily that still affects me today. My dad loved tohunt. It didn't matter if it was big game or small game, he lovedto go out in the woods and pin his skills against the wild beastof the forest. He had gone squirrel hunting with Don Pilgrim,a friend of his that also owned his own business. They haddriven dads' 1948 Willis Jeep to the White Rock Mountains forthis particular hunt. When they arrived in the mountains, daddecided to turn down this little trail, drive down the mountaina ways and hunt on the mountainside. They had driven downthe trail a ways when they came across a man in a suit lyingacross the trail. They stopped to check on him and discoveredthe man had just recently been shot, and he was dead. They nowbegan to notice the tracks on the trail they were on. There hadbeen a car that had come down the trail they were on and thetracks continued down the mountain trail. Dad knew this trailwell and told Don that this trail does not continue, but it deadends down the mountain, which means that the killers are notfar from them. They decided to get back into the Jeep and driveabout two miles around the mountain to a ranger tower andcall the sheriff's department. They called the sheriff to informhim of their findings, and that they believed the killers wereclose by. The sheriff told them to go back and guard the trailand not let anyone in or out of the trail until he got there. Theydrove the little Jeep back to the trail and parked the Jeep so thetrail was blocked. They had already talked about what to do ifthe killers came back up the trail while they were there, so theygot their guns ready and prepared for a possible confrontation.They began to look at the tracks again, and the hair on theback of their necks began to rise up. There was their set of Jeeptracks going in and back out of the trail. Then they saw the setof car tracks going into the trail just like they noticed the firsttime. But now there was another set of car tracks coming outof the trail over the top of their tracks. While they were goneto call the sheriff, the killers had come back out of the trail.The killers figured that no one would find the man for monthsor years, but they were wrong. Someone had found him beforethey could turn around and leave the mountain setting. Dadwondered if the killers had noticed both sets of car tracks onthe trail, and if they would come back. So he and Don nowpositioned themselves to cover the trail and the dirty mountainroad. They liked to start hunting right at daylight, but by thetime they had found the man, called for the sheriff, and waiteduntil the sheriff arrived it was already after 0900. They wereat the crime scene all day helping the sheriff search the areaand look for clues along the little trail. Before they knew it,the day was gone and it was getting dark. Dad was afraid thatmom would get worried with him being so late, so he asked thesheriff to radio his office and tell dispatch that Carl Grizzle hadfound a dead man and would be a little late getting home. Sothe sheriff asked dispatch to advise mom of dad's delay.

The old man that was working dispatch must have hadhearing problems, or he wasn't paying attention to details,because when he calls mom to deliver this important messagehe somehow confuses the message. As the phone rings, mompicks it up, and I'm standing a few feet away. Moms lip beginsto quiver and tears swell up in her eyes and I knew it was badnews. Fifty-four years later when I think of that evening, I haveto fight to keep back the tears. Dad would not be coming homeagain ... ever. The dispatcher asked mom if her husband's namewas Carl Grizzle. She said yes, it is. He said he hated to informher, but a man had found Carl Grizzle dead in the White RockMountains, and the sheriff had asked him to call and notify her.Mom knew that dad had gone to White Rock to hunt, and shehad no reason to doubt the professionalism of a dispatch officerwith the sheriff's department.

After a few minutes, to collect her thoughts, and she calledthe church to see if she could catch our pastor. It just so happenedthat the church was holding a worker's conference that nightso not only was the pastor there, but a lot of the church people.Someone answered the phone and mom explained to them whathad happened and asked them to please inform the pastor.When that person told the pastor the news, he informed thechurch people of the events, and within thirty minutes, thepastor and church people began to flood our house. You couldnot find a parking place within a block of our house, and thatlittle house was absolutely packed with people. People from thechurch had made phone calls to others in the church family,and I've been told there were scores of people waiting at thehospital for them to bring in dad's body. After many, manyhours our house was still packed, even though it was almostten p.m. at night. We had several hours to let it sink into ourminds that dad was in heaven, and we would have to carry onwithout him. We had no idea that at that very moment comingdown the road was a little 1948 Willis Jeep coming home.

Dad had dropped Don off at his house and was driving upto our house when he noticed all the cars parked up and downthe street. When he got to our house, the yard was full of cars,and it dawned on him that something must have happened toone of us. He left the Jeep in the roadway because there was noparking place in the yard. As he ran for the house, he becamemore fearful that something had happened to his little family.When dad came through that front door, it was like seeing aghost, but mom ran into his arms and started crying again,unable to speak. We told him that everyone was all right, thatthe pastor and the people were there for him, not us. Whenthings settled down a little, the pastor talked to the people thatwere gathered, and although I don't remember everything hesaid in detail, I do remember him saying, "we don't understandwhy these things happen, but it reminds us how importantit is to know Jesus in a personal relationship, and to have achurch family to fall back on." By the time I was thirteen, I hadexperienced my dads' death, his resurrection, and a whole newappreciation for family, both immediate and church. Recentlyhe turned eighty-six years old, and he's still going strong. He isstill my pal, my best friend, and my dad. We still have a greatpersonal relationship with Jesus Christ, with each other, anda fantastic church family. Experiences like that stay with youfor a life time, and what helps to keep you focused on what isimportant and what is not.