Proceedings, 1997

I remember sitting right here in this
section of this auditorium with the
other members of the Midway FFA
Chapter at my first national
convention and the feeling I had the
first time I saw over 10,000 blue and
gold jackets around me. I felt chills
the first time I was a part of the
chanting of the letters "F-F-A, F-F-
A," and 1 remember how fun it was
to be a part of the wave that circled
the auditorium.
1 remember watching the tiny
people on stage and hearing the
speeches given and the awards
presented. 1 remember being bored
and squishing the speakers on stage
with my thumb and forefinger. I
remember thinking "How could I
stand on this very stage and do the
things I saw?" I wondered if it would
ever be possible.
Years later I would sit in this
section of the convention floor,
waiting for the announcement of the
new national officer team. My palms
were sweaty and my heart was
"When You're Out of Worms"
Ray Starling
National FFA Vice President— Eastern Region
Autryville, N.C.
pounding so fast that I could hear it
over the speaker. Time stood still as
slowly the names of the national
officers were called and nobody
heard my name... nobody, including
me.
At first I held up pretty well, but
within a few minutes, several of my
best friends; Josh, Shane, George and
Matt; came over to console me and
reality began to set in. I did not hear
my name called. The session
adjourned and 1 finally found my
mother and brother, and to my
surprise, 1 wasn't the only one
crying. My mom, of course had tears
streaking down her face, but as I
approached my 250-pound brother, I
realized that he, too, was crying. As
tears continued to fall from my face,
I found myself in a big bear hug,
embraced by my brother. Without a
word said, I had experienced one of
the greatest events of my life. The
tears continued to fall, but I was at
the height of contentment. Even
though my name wasn't called on
HC
stage that day, the love my family
and friends shared with me will
never be forgotten. To me, it was
worth more than any blessing I may
have gotten from hearing my name
up on stage. You see, even though I
didn't get elected to national FFA
office two years ago, I did get the
blessing of realizing the love and
support my family and friends were
so eager to provide.
Life is full of blessings that come
when things aren't going as we
planned or as we wished. The
problem is that too often in life we
are only concerned with what we
want, when we want it, and how
quickly we can get it. We don't take
time to realize that there is a plan
and that sometimes we have to listen
very carefully to hear our names
called.
Hugging my brother and
momma and sharing our pam
together taught me that even tough
times could provide blessings. By
the same token, so did fishing
down at my papas pond on
Sunday afternoons with my daddy
and brothers.
Steve, Willi, and I would fish for
hours, while daddy sat on the
bucket that was supposed to hold
the many "big ones" we hoped to
catch. I often remember daddy
telling me that 1 couldn't catch
anything without bait, or while my
hook was out of the water.
Sometimes my line became caught
on a stump or root in the pond,
and sometimes the trees up above
would get in my way as I tried to set
a new record in how far I could cast
my line. I learned that extra weight
always made it go farther - even
without the worm! Many times I
would do a poor job putting the
worm on the hook, and after a few
minutes, it would fall off, or a small
fish would take it off of the hook.
Regardless of whether we caught a
lot or not a single fish, the day
passed by rather quickly. 1 recall
how we felt as the sun began to set,
the air began to cool, and the
reflection off the pond grew dim.
We began to run out of worms and
we knew that for another week, our
fishing expenence had drawn to a
close. Without worms, we couldn't
fish, even if we were having good
luck, or thought that just a few more
minutes might bring in the big one.
Finally, daddy would rise from his
seated position on the bucket and
prepare to go. Even though we all
dreaded having to head back up the
hill toward home, we knew granny
and papa's house waited up top for
us. Inside, we knew there was
something that would make the
conclusion of our trip worthwhile.
Once the poles were up and our
hands were clean, we would run
inside to the small white cabinet,
where papa and granny always had
plenty of Little Debbie Oatmeal
Creme Pies waiting for us to raid.
Sometimes I would eat two, three,
and one Sunday, even four! Even
though I dreaded the fact that
another Sunday had passed away
and our fishing was over with, I
enjoyed my time up at the house
eating Little Debbies and listening to
stories told by my dad and
grandparents.