Month: December 2018

I am a very cautious person. It’s one of the main reasons I’m still around. Caution, and a big old slice of good luck pie.

I learned to drive when I was 15. When I turned sixteen, my Dad told me to drive down to the triangle and get a loaf of bread from Hurley’s grocery store.

I drove at 35 mph down there, plunked down .59 cents for a loaf of sunbeam, got back in Dad’s little green Ford Fairlane, and promptly backed square center into one of those stinking huge light poles that they surrounded with two tons of cement.

I drove 25 mph on the way back home…

It was another 3 or 4 months before Dad let me take the car out again. I drove about 2.3 miles to the house of a girl I wanted to date. I was shy, and awkward as hell. I couldn’t think of things to say conversation wise, so I drug out my guitar and sang to her. It was kind of embarrassing and I’m sure a little strange.

Doubly so, because I flooded the car out when I started to leave, and then when I pulled out of the driveway I accidentally pushed the accelerator down too hard and “dug out” of the driveway. I did make it home safely. From that point on, my driving skills improved, and I can say without a doubt that since then I have logged hundreds of thousands of miles. Mostly cautious miles.

Since I got blackballed at the old local industrial complex, I ended up living in Trion and commuting out and back to work in various cities for about 38 years.

I worked for five years selling medical supplies all over North Georgia. My territory was huge. I put in 150 miles a day most days east….it was a great job the first three years, but not so great the last two. I had a lot of close calls those years, but lucked out and had no accidents. I did however, not latch one of the side panel doors one the supply truck one day before I took off to Calhoun. I don’t know when it flew straight out. I didn’t notice I was spilling bandaids and antibiotic ointment all over the roadway on 136. I only noticed when I turned right on River street and sheared the door off on a telephone pole. That was a hard one to explain to the boss. I was able to backtrack towards Trion, and I ended up finding most of the supplies.

I went to work for Big B Home Health care, and they gave me a new van with their logo on the side. I got to drive it out and back to Rome every day because I was on call 24-7 to deliver Oxygen and O2 supplies to people who needed them. I came home one day and parked it in my steep driveway on ninth street. I was in a hurry, and forgot to put on the parking brakes. I looked out a few minutes later, and the van had jumped out of gear and had rolled down the driveway, across ninth street and jumped the curb across the street and rolled 30 more feet into my across the street neighbors back yard, right next to the back alley. Nary a scratch did it have. Looked like I had just parked it there. I went over and drove it out the back alley and back into my driveway. This time I set the parking brakes.

Like I said, caution is the key….along with a big old slice of luck pie.

I would like to do as we used to do when I was young and unknowing. Go off into the woods and saw down an old cedar tree and bring it into the house and decorate it.

Most of the time we’d go to Mr. Kellet’s farm, where we bought milk, and he’d let us cut one. Back when I was very young, eight or nine. The smell of those trees haunts my memory now, just as the happiness and innocence also haunts me. I knew nothing then of the world beyond my doorstep. I didn’t realize the terrible things going on out of my little inner circle.

But, they were out there. Not as obtrusive and as evident as they are to me now in this 67th year. But there nonetheless.

I watched my three little ones in their innocence and happiness this morning, and I wondered how life will play out for them. I’ll only be here for a portion of that, but I’m concerned. I know the things I have seen since my time as a child in the fifties as compared to today. Such a vast change. Such a different world. A sandpaper world now compared to my smooth white paper one.

Of all the unknown quantities which lay ahead for them, I cannot even guess. All I can do is love them, hold them, and let them know they are cherished now. So loved. Perhaps if they are able to retain some of those memories in the future, it will give them strength.

Just as I went down in the woods today to a spot where a little cedar tree was growing and put my face close to it and breathed in deeply…and momentarily was comforted. All would be right, all would be alright. Just for a moment.

At one time I dreamed of being famous. Singing for a livin’ maybe, singing my own songs. Making the big money.

My wife knew who Garth Brooks was when we sat a couple of tables away from him and his first wife Sandy at a NSAI award ceremony dinner in 1989. He won an award that night…a very humble guy as I remember. He’s done pretty well since then.

I had a song on hold for Charlie Daniels once, but he eventually passed on it. Same story with Patty Lovelace. Good..but not quite good enough. It became too hard to work full time and ride to Nashville once a week. Easier to just “pass” on it.

Back in the days of cassette tapes, and trying to get publishers and artists to listen, an outsider getting in was a million to one shot. All of them had friends, and relatives and drinking buddies. They got the first shots, hell you can’t blame the guys in high places for that…I’d have done the same thing.

There was no Soundcloud back then, no internet communities, no American Idol, or Voice. It all boiled down to politics and friendships. Being a nobody from nowhere Georgia was hardly a good resume.

I loved it back then, but barely even pick up a guitar anymore. I moved on past that, and I’m just as happy, maybe happier than I woulda been. It takes some skill, a little talent, but most of all luck. Being in the right place at the right time. I don’t know about the first two even, but I know I was never in the right place at the right time.

It became clearly evident to me the day I got stuck on an elevator at the Nashville Hilton. There was a big songwriter hoo ha going on at the time, but I got stuck on the elevator by myself for an hour and a half. I wondered why some big name producer or artist couldn’t have been on there too. I’m sure I had a cassette tape in my pocket at the time!

I really think it’s my job to try and give out a few “little” joys when I can. It’s my job to be Dad and Papa, and be here for my wife. All the the things I have now, though they are not material possessions, mean much more than I can say. I may act like a grumpy old man a lot, but I think that’s just cause I don’t get enough sleep!

I probably would have never gotten the happiness I feel if I had been “famous” I would have undoubtedly been too busy trying to make people who didn’t love me happy instead. I don’t think that would have been such a good trade off. I honestly believe we end up being where we are meant to be, doing the things we should be doing. Let’s all just try to do good, and we will be a success no matter what.

In my past, in the days when I was growing up, one encouraging word from the right person could make my day…. maybe my entire week.

If my Dad told me I had done a good job on something….anything really, I redoubled my effort to do an even better job the next time.

I had the most difficult time learning to tie my shoes. I can remember, because I was almost six before I could tie them well. Dad never got mad, just kept encouraging me to try again. “You’ll get it” he said. And I finally did.

I had a lot of problems with some relatively simple motor skill tasks. I was smart in other ways. I could read before I started school, and I was always good at doing adding, subtracting, multiplying and dividing in my head. I could figure percentages of things especially well…..but I had trouble keeping my pants zipped. Go figure.

It could be the concussion I suffered riding my tricycle down our brick steps when I was four. I busted my head open, was bloody as hell, and got knocked out. It took 12 stitches to close the wound, and I told Dr. Allen to “keep his shit’n hands off me,” while he was doing the stitching. “Where’d he learn that language?” He asked “From his Mom”. Said Dad.

It could be the severe high fever (106 degrees) that I had right before my third birthday, which caused my eyes to cross so severely, you could barely see the blue. They stayed that way for a year, then gradually uncrossed. I don’t remember it, but I’m sure my brain was about fried.

But I got over those things. I was encouraged to improve. So I did.

I used to love to take broom handles and hit rocks from my Grandpa’s dirt road driveway, out into ol’ Uncle Lark Davenport’s corn field. That field was all rocks and no dirt anyway, so he never cared. I spent many, many hours whacking rocks. I was an awkward and backward 12 year old the year..the last year, I was eligible to play little league. I was embarrassed to try out, but two great men in the community encouraged my efforts, and all of the hours I had spent whacking little rocks with a skinny stick paid off as I found I could really rip a baseball with a baseball bat. Made the Allstars that year.

I wanted to write my Freshman year in High School, but was afraid I couldn’t do it well enough. Mrs. Wingfield, who was the English teacher and editor of the school paper read some of my poetry, and encouraged me to enroll in journalism class. I ended up writing quite a few articles, and a lot of poetry. I was just looking through my old scrapbook of “inches” I wrote for the paper the other day. I thought of Ms. Jesse’s encouragement, and how she believed in me. She was a great teacher.

I could go on, but I guess my point is clear. All the things I ever succeeded at even moderately were the result of being encouraged. Trying to make me do something I don’t want to do, especially if someone is coming from a bullying attitude, or an attitude of “my way or the highway” just makes me buck up like a mule. I have even shut down in past years with people who insist they were dictators, and their word had to be obeyed or else. I once walked out of a meeting with a “boss” like that, walked to my car, and turned it on and drove home. The guy called me and begged me to come back…because I was running his factory one handed. I didn’t.

I’ve walked out of college classes on the first or second day (and some halfway through the course) because the professors were discouragers instead of encouragers. I did not need them, or their negativity in my life.

Of course some of these actions have cost me….some of them were foolhardy. But I didn’t stop to think at the time.

I don’t encourage anyone to be like me. To be like I was. I got lucky and married a sane wife with good sense, who balances out my impetuous nature with her common sense.

I’ve helped her raise three wonderful and successful children. I hope I encouraged them more often than I discouraged them. They certainly grew up with one slightly off center, brain impaired Dad.

I think nowadays we as a country, as a world…need to encourage our children and little ones. Let’s tell them that there’s nothing….nothing, that they cannot accomplish. And if we tell them, and they truly believe us, perhaps they will save this world and usher in a new age of peace and prosperity.

If I don’t see you, or talk to you before then, have a Merry Christmas..Happy holiday, nice days off, or…..whatever you want!

Opening doors and closing them. Both physically and metaphorically it is all we do in life.

Before there was this medium in which to wax nostalgic, I was simply concerned only with what was going on with myself, my immediate family, those I worked closely with. For many years, that’s all it was. That’s all it had to be. Oh, I knew there was a world full of other human beings out there, but I wasn’t mindful of what was going on with them. Their joys, their sorrows, their inner thoughts, their rantings, their wisdom… was just whispering in the wind. I cared not because I knew not.

Upon entering into this unknown means of communication, I first sought out family, then old school friends, whom I had lost contact with. It was fun catching up with them, finding out what had happened in the last forty years. Drawing close to them again through common experiences and causes…sometimes agreeing on things, sometimes not. Thus is the way of human beings. We all have things in common, we all have differences.

Strangely, I began to become friends with people who I never knew before but who were friends with one of my friends. My relationship with people began to branch out beyond my little circle. I have become friends with people who have and hold some of the same beliefs and philosophies which I hold, and some who do not. I have met some people because of this medium and hold them in high regard and really, genuinely care about them, and through them, their loved ones.

My artist friend with his big dog, my flea market buddy with his gorgeous talented family, my new friend the coach and teacher down highway 27 way, the teacher of my lawyer buddy, my friend the radio announcer and Sunday School teacher. Old friends who have reintroduced themselves back into my life…who I knew closely in my teenage years.

Growing closer in friendship again with many old friends through empathy and sympathy with their familial situations. Common likes…My old Buddy the wonderful biking, caving photographer and his sweet wife. My UGA fan buddies, my Vegan and vegetarian friends. I could go on.

I guess the most important thing is that for the most part, I love people.

I love good discussions where if everyone doesn’t agree, we at least can have our opinions and be civil with each other (though I have NO tolerance for those who cannot be civil, and resort to name calling or vulgarity)

I love seeing the love that others have for their family and friends, and the photos of them they post showing their love. Their expressions of love for their family, and their thoughtful and loving posts many times touching me deeply.

Their are many who would use this medium to spread their lies and their hate. Let’s not allow them to take over what could be, and had been up until recently a positive thing. Don’t share one sided hate “memes” just to have something to post. Think before you do it “will this cause harmony or discord?” If you want to post a page at least put a little preamble of your own words on it to let others know your purpose in sharing. If you have an opinion on something, use your own words. Don’t let others who are extremists use you as a tool.

I’ve been guilty but I’m honestly trying to do better! (And I still try here in 2017, but don’t always succeed)

Love not hate. Empathy and sympathy not empty feelings. We can use ALL things for the good of others if we only pause to think, to consider, to put ourselves in the shoes of others for a few miles before we judge.

Peace to you all.

The only way I can much remember things is to kind of “hack in” to my memories. I can’t go directly there. I have to have something to “jog” the hacking process. I have to put in a query and wait for the old “hard drive” gray matter to eventually bubble it up to the surface. This process could take minutes, or sometimes days.

I ran across my old 1968 High School annual yesterday as I was putting up some photo albums and I flipped through the pages. I looked at some of the pictures and some of the things which people wrote in my book. I flipped past the page showing the “class favorites” and I paused a moment and reflected. As I remember, I always wanted to be “something” when I was in High School, but as it turns out I was pretty innocously anonymous. In the annals of mediocrity, I stood amongst the crowd lost in middle.

It mattered a lot to me then, but I really didn’t know how to be popular. I for sure wasn’t the smartest, the handsomest, the best dresser, the most atheletic, the most likely to succeed, the wittiest, or anything resembling any of those traits. I didn’t even vote for myself for any of these…to be honest, I don’t even know if it was a voting process. Can’t remember.

I think today about what matters from back then, and it seems to me that the memories of those days are the most important. I certainly have a lot of those, and if that’s the measurement, then I’m not doing to badly.

I remember a lot of things. Perhaps one of these days I can find the time to write them all down.

In hindsight, I don’t guess I would do much differently. I don’t think I could. I was what I was, and that’s all that I was. Age hasn’t changed me, except to ripen my flavor like an old crabapple which has dropped on the ground and lays there waiting for someone to pick it up.

As for Christmas presents, I have to say I have nothing left of any present I received as a child. Nothing physical anyway. I have vivid memories though of many wonderful things. An entire Hoppalong Cassidy outfit complete with guns when I was four. Oh yes I learned to shoot at an early age. A real Daisy BB Pistol at 8 years old. The front of it broke down and you could shoot one BB, pellet, or dart at a time. I’m ashamed now to admit it, but I once killed a sparrow with it. I was like Opie Taylor though, and cried. Then I went and buried it. I never shot another living thing with that gun. At 10 I got a Schwynn Bicycle, and learned to ride it quickly. I stayed around the streets close to home though. I ranged far from home at times, but usually on foot with a big stick in my hand or a baseball bat on my shoulder. At 11 years old, I got a reflective telescope which I never learned to use. Always every year, there were books, comics and classics. There were ball cards. At 12 years old a Lionel train. I remember all these things now so clearly, as I write if them. I could go on and on…My first record player at thirteen…but, it’s not the things, which are all now long gone which counted. My Dad helped me learn to ride my bike, and to shoot my gun. I remember the look of happiness in HIS eyes even now…just like it was yesterday. His laughter at my foibles and mistakes. That familiar laugh, so distinctive. It’s not the gifts. It never really was. I would bundle them all together, all of them I ever got just to hear that laugh once more. Christmas should be more about presence than presents, more about the giving of memories than the receiving of things which do not last. Christmas is what you receive in your heart and keep forever.

I used to wonder what it would be like to be old. I distinctly remember when I was 12 years old in 1962, thinking that it would be forever before I would be as ancient as my Old Grandparents! Grandma was only 63 that year…two years younger than I am now, and Grandpa was 68. All things are relative aren’t they? My Grandparents lived many more years. My Grandmother died in 1999 at the age of 100..and I, the man who had thought her old at 63 was still recovering from the first of two heart attacks, and could not help carry her coffin from the O’Zion Church that few steps to the graveyard just outside the back door.

She had never seemed to have aged that much at all from that day in 1962, up until perhaps the last year of her life. I certainly did. Relativity.

I looked at my own Grandchildren tonight and wondered what they will remember. I am 65 so I must seem decidedly aged to them. I look at myself through one set of eyes, one angle of perception, and they look with different eyes. I could not see in my Grandmother’s eyes her hopes and dreams for me. My Grandchildren cannot see mine for them. All through our lives, we are hopelessly at odds with a set of expectations for ourselves which we perceive that others have for us, when in fact our own expectations are probably always greater and more pressing.

One thing I do know that my Grandmother wished for me was more happiness and less worry. I know this because she told me so in person one day. The only other thing she wished was that I would come visit more often. I so very much wish I had.

So, for my Grandchildren…I wish for you more happiness and less worry…..and come visit when you can.

Welcome to the world of instant information, or misinformation. The world of instant fame on YouTube, or instant shame on Instagram. The world of hackers, and improbable experts in every subject they did not study but know everything about. The world of instant anger and self righteousness. The world of instant misunderstanding, because you cannot see the face of the “speaker” nor the tone of their voice. The world where “Lol” covers your azz for saying anything, anytime. The world of fantasy mixed with a few facts sprinkled sparsely amongst the overload of BS. The world where too many spend too long too often.

Where do we go from here? Who writes the rules of operation? The etiquette of the cyberspace. The rules of engagement, the Geneva convention of electronic war?

I read a lot of comments on myriads of different posts about a variety of subjects, and I hope that most people are hiding behind that wall of cyber anonymity in what they say. Otherwise we have some seriously sick people out there, and we are in BIG trouble.

I believe in very few things concretely anymore. This is a time of flux and chaos.

I don’t believe all American’s have a chance to achieve what some Americans have a chance to achieve.

I believe we are entering an era when fear tactics and intimidation of some people is going to become more brazen.

I believe the rich are going to get richer, and the poor will become poorer.

I believe Senior Americans will become cast offs and throw aways

I believe jobs will become more scarce, and things Americans buy will become more expensive.

I believe that nuclear weapons could very well be used for the first time since World War II.

I hope that family units will stick together and support each other. I believe trust in other institutions outside of close families is going to diminish.

If I am wrong, then at some point….if I am still here, you can point your finger at me and laugh.

One of my favorite songs used to BE “I Believe” :

I believe for every drop of rain that falls

A flower grows

I believe that somewhere in the darkest night

A candle glows

I believe for everyone who goes astray, someone will come

To show the way

I believe, I believe

I believe above a storm the smallest prayer

Can still be heard

I believe that someone in the great somewhere

Hears every word

Everytime I hear a new born baby cry,

Or touch a leaf or see the sky

Then I know why, I believe

Everytime I hear a new born baby cry,

Or touch a leaf or see the sky

Then I know why, I believe

By Ervin Drake and Jule Stein. Originally sang by Frankie Lane

I’ve sung this optimistic song many times….and believed it.

Wish I could still say I did…….perhaps again one day.