Everyone Has A Story...Tell Me Yours

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Born December, 18th, 1949. A typical Sagittarian. The hunter on the body of a stallion: I have always hunted for the right fit for me, the right place to live; the right person to live with; the right job with the right income.

Unfortunately, the stallion's body has decreed that I constantly search for fresh pastures. I have never owned a house. I have moved constantly and I believe the reason is that my spirit belongs in the United States.

0 years: I know how I was born. My father was a sportsman even in the war. He was an athlete for his battalion. He ate with the officers to keep his strength up and never touched alcohol. Three weeks after the war ended he was drinking with a friend, felt woozy and went outdoors. He tripped and knocked my mother over. They knew each other so she picked him up and took him to her house. That is how I was born...(not that night, by the way, a year later.

1-10: A very good childhood. Mother, father, grandmother and granddad* (more lately) and aunts living in the area. We lived with my grandparents for five years until our first house.

The school was just around the corner up until the age of 11 and education was enjoyable...(but not as enjoyable as soccer.I played with friends every day including Sunday).

I never wanted to know about Jesus or God. I went to Sunday School for two years because we all went to the chapel in the same street but I could never get used to being called a 'sinner' at eight.

*At six years of age, my grandfather (whom I cannot remember talking to me ever) went into a coma. For three nights my mother and aunt stayed with him. They came home tired and my father and uncle went to stay and that night he died.

That night my grandfather's head and shoulders appeared to me in a dream.

At ten, I was on my first scout camp with all the joys of sleeping and eating in the rough. On the second day, we had finished eating and were washing the pans and utensils when I started to feel unwell.

I went to my tent to lie down as the feeling of sickness became stronger. The other boys in the tent came to see how I was but I couldn't talk. The next thing I know I remember as clearly today as that day, the thought passing through my head, "This is what it's like to die!"

I had passed out. How long? I have no idea but the next thing I remember was seeing my doctor kneeling over me-so the troop leader had gone to the farm to ring the doctor (no mobiles) and then he had driven the six miles to get to me.

He put me in his car to drive to the hospital when everything I had eaten (and more perhaps) came up. I was mortified but he must have had this happen before because he was brilliant (he had been at my mother's side just after I was born). I wasn't in the hospital more than a couple of hours before I was back at camp.

The conclusion: Food poisoning. I remember we were eating corned beef hash. I have never eaten it since.

  • Do you know how your mother and father met? If you can find out.

  • Do you have stories up to the age of 10? Start to get them down.

  • Can you do this with your business?

Contact me at http://www.erniesaid.info/ to avoid losing the story you have inside you, business or life.

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