There are certain events in my life that I can recall and remember exactly where I was at the time.  

On Dec. 7, 1941, the day the Japanese attacked Pearl Harbor, I was at a football game in Reserve as the high school team played St. James.  

On March 12, 1945, I was playing baseball at St. Peter School when news arrived that my uncle, Aristide “Eaky” Keller, was killed in France while serving in the U.S. Army.

When news of V-J Day (Victory in Japan) was heard, I was at the Reserve Community Club swimming pool.

On Jan. 20, 1953, as I was ready to board an airplane for my first flight to San Diego to begin serving four years in the Navy, my dad, with tears in his eyes said, “I just ask that you don’t get a tattoo.” That memory is the only reason I did not give in to the temptation to mark my body.

On May 24, 1958, Jeanne and I were married in Garyville at St. Hubert Church. Father Dennis Bergeron officiated the service. The Bible says when you find a wife, you’ve found a good thing. God undoubtedly gave me the best. Years later, when Jeanne thought I could handle it, she told me that as she was being driven to the church, her dad said (not jokingly), “Wouldn’t it be nice if Harold didn’t show up?” Evidently, he didn’t think I was such a good deal. Now, I certainly can understand that.

Being in the month of April, I remember in the early morning of April 26, 1955, two Red Cross workers boarded the ship to tell me my dad had died suddenly. It’s been 59 years, and I remember that moment as though it were yesterday. He was only 48 years old!  

As I think about him, I remember how he loved my mother, protected and provided for his children and was a role model for his family, the people he worked with and especially the children in the neighborhood. Having him as a father makes it easy for me to believe in a Heavenly Father, because he was such a good earthly father. There are many other exciting things that I remember — the birth of my children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren, to name a few.

With all these memories, the most important was the second Sunday in October 1980, when I was born again and asked Jesus to be the Lord of my life. That decision changed my life and made me realize how blessed I have been. 

 

If you have any questions or comments, please write to Get High on Life, P.O. Drawer U, Reserve, LA 70084, call 985-652-8477, or email hkeller@comcast.net.