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Proof
They Found the Flag Pole
One day in 1909 a group of Alaskan miners, popularly called Sourdoughs, were sitting in a saloon in Fairbanks talking about outsiders such as Dr. Frederick Cook climbing “their” Mount McKinley. Convinced that Cook’s ascent had never been made, some of the miners decided to prove it the only way they knew how—by doing it themselves.
After a long climb, three miners left their base camp and raced for the North Peak, carrying some doughnuts, thermoses of hot chocolate, and a 14-foot wooden flagpole. As simply as they went up, the Sourdoughs returned to camp. But when they returned to Fairbanks, nobody believed them—and nobody could see the flagpole. But in June 1913, when some professional climbers reached the summit, to their surprise they found the flagpole planted by the Sourdoughs.
Today in the Word, July 1995, p. 8
Supervisor Hit the Pole
Three months after moving to his farm in Greenville, South Carolina, Bob Olson realized he had a serious problem. A utility pole on the corner of his driveway was in a bad location—so bad that four visitors had hit it with their cars.
Bob called the power company and reported the hazard. Eventually they sent a supervisor to evaluate the situation. After looking it over, the supervisor concluded there was no problem. But as he drove away, a loud thud was heard which shook the entire house. The supervisor had hit the pole—and the next day a crew arrived to move it!
Today in the Word, December 2, 1995, p. 7
His Work Confirmed His word
The renowned artist Paul Gustave Dore (1821-1883) lost his passport while traveling in Europe. When he came to a border crossing, he explained his predicament to one of the guards.
Giving his name to the official, Dore hoped he would be recognized and allowed to pass. The guard, however, said that many people attempted to cross the border by claiming to be persons they were not.
Dore insisted that he was the man he claimed to be. “All right,” said the official, “we’ll give you a test, and if you pass it we’ll allow you to go through.” Handing him a pencil and a sheet of paper, he told the artist to sketch several peasants standing nearby. Dore did it so quickly and skillfully that the guard was convinced he was indeed who he claimed to be. His work confirmed his word!
Our Daily Bread, January 6, 1993
Proved He Was Kreisler
Setting out from Hamburg, Germany, one day to give a concert in London, violinist Fritz Kreisler had an hour before his boat sailed. He wandered into a music shop, where the proprietor asked if he could look at the violin Kreisler was carrying. He then vanished and returned with two policemen, one of whom told the violinist, “You are under arrest.”
“What for?” asked Kreisler.
“You have Fritz Kreisler’s violin.”
“I am Fritz Kreisler.”
“You can’t pull that on us. Come along to the station.”
As Kreisler’s boat was sailing soon, there was no time for prolonged explanations. Kreisler asked for his violin and played a piece he was well known for. “Now are you satisfied?” he asked. They were!
Today in the Word, December 22, 1992
Let Me Hear You Play the Harmonica
A young American engineer was sent to Ireland by his company to work in a new electronics plant. It was a two-year assignment that he had accepted because it would enable him to earn enough to marry his long-time girlfriend. She had a job near her home in Tennessee, and their plan was to pool their resources and put a down payment on a house when he returned. They corresponded often, but as the lonely weeks went by, she began expressing doubts that he was being true to her, exposed as he was to comely Irish lasses.
The young engineer wrote back, declaring with some passion that he was paying absolutely no attention to the local girls. “I admit,” he wrote, “that sometimes I’m tempted. But I fight it. I’m keeping myself for you.”
In the next mail, the engineer received a package. It contained a note from his girl and a harmonica. “I’m sending this to you,” she wrote, “so you can learn to play it and have something to take your mind off those girls.” The engineer replied, “Thanks for the harmonica. I’m practicing on it every night and thinking of you.”
At the end of his two-year stint, the engineer was transferred back to company headquarters. He took the first plane to Tennessee to be reunited with his girl. Her whole family was with her, but as he rushed forward to embrace her, she held up a restraining hand and said sternly, “Just hold on there a minute, Billy Bob. Before any serious kissin’ and huggin’ gets started here, let me hear you play that harmonica!”
Bits & Pieces, October 15, 1992, pp. 17-18
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