Change is inevitable

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In life, we often see ourselves in a never ending cycle of the same.

We go through the same routine daily. Get up, prepare for the day and off to work.

Then we return and back to house routine until we slow down for sleep.

We do this, day after day, year after year, often just watching our lives fly by as the clock spins upon the wall.

While things in our lives often remain the same, day in and day out, from time to time something happens which jolts us out of our mundane routine.

Sometimes its a pleasant surprise which makes life different. If we are single, we might fall in love.

If we are childless, a child might be in the making.

Or we might be jolted by some unexpected moment that changes our lives – an accident, a fall, an illness, the death of a loved one. Any of these might shake our life.

It might be something simple. For me recently after many years with having the same people live around me. Solid good neighbors upon which I depended upon for decades, now I am seeing a shift as different ones move away. With each a little adjustment is required. Now there are new people to learn, but its unlikely that decades of neighboring will be recovered quickly in these new relationships, but in time perhaps, I will once again feel as comfortable as I did with the others. At least I hope so.

No matter what aspect of our lives we are looking upon, the inevitability of change is always there—new co-workers, new responsibilities, new expectations, new neighbors, new elected officials, new problems, new hopes, new dreams and new losses.

Despite this, we see our lives as routine, but in actuality every day is filled with little differences.

We are provided opportunities for countless choices every single day. Any one choice might be the one that catapults us into a sea of unknown circumstances. We choose the wrong food item at lunch and we get food poisoning. Were off to the hospital and we get an unplanned bill. We miss a few days of work. All this sequence of events hinged on a quick decision while walking through a cafeteria or restaurant food line.

Change is always with us, it is the source of our opportunities. If we are mindful and watch the changes in our surroundings, we might find one coming that opens boundless opportunities for our future.

I am saddened at the recent and coming changes within my circle of neighbors. Hopefully, good folks will fill the voids left by these changes and overtime will become the stalwarts I hope to have around me as we move forward in this uncertainty we see around us.

Be mindful and forward thinking as you go through you daily routines and perhaps, just perhaps, you will be the orchestrator of positive change that impacts us all rather than the dutiful recipient.

The ground is turned

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The spring brings such a joy as it comes time to run my feet through the dirt of the garden.

This year took a bit more effort for me as my tiller was finding every reason not to run this year.

I had endured that last winter and turned the rows by hand. Sadly, it wasn’t as good as I hoped it might be.

It took my brother and I to give it a good tune up a couple of weeks back and it still had a hidden issue neither of us could find. It’s amazing how a small engine with only so many working parts could give one such a time.

A fellow gardening friend – Pete – thankfully had the tinkering abilities to get it going. Maybe it was the magic touch.

A warm day and a couple pulls on the engine and I was off tilling the garden giving it a solid treatment.

After letting the fertilizer sink in a couple of days, I was ready to plant.

I rotated my normal vegetables – cucumbers, yellow and zucchini squash, potatoes, green beans, corn, bell peppers, corn and tomatoes and added a few new to try out this year – spinach, lettuce, onions, cantaloupe and a couple of herbs – basil and thyme.

I learned many of my early gardening from my Grandpa Jesse and my mom and dad. It’s amazing what a little hard work, well cultivated soil, good seeds and some watering can provide.

When I was a child, my mother put up in jars so many vegetables from what we grew in our small garden. We often had food throughout the winter. With each passing year as a kid, I took great joy in seeing a greater yield in what we were doing.

Since I returned to the effort about three years back, unfortunately, I have not seen the return of those childhood yields. Perhaps I have forgotten a few of those early lessons which gave me such a childhood advantage. Or simply, my soil is so much poorer in where I garden today compared with what I had built up over time as a youth.

It seems I can manage a pretty good crop of cucumbers, squash and peppers, as those are what I have pickled, frozen and eaten the most through the winter from my efforts.

With the rising costs of food, that we all are seeing in the stores, I have high hopes that I will be able to be more effective this season in my endeavor.

I even tried a few experimental watermelon in a place I don’t normally plant. As they say, nothing ventured, nothing gained.

In any event feeling the fresh-tilled soil between my toes reminds me such of walking behind my grandfather as his plowed.

It’s not exactly the same, but I can almost see his Bib overalls legs up ahead of me as I look along the ground. I can hear his booming voice as he calls out for me to bring the seeds and walk behind him placing them just the right distance apart.

Then months later, I remember looking up at the corn so high above me head with the bean vines running up each one.

My seeds are in the ground, the watering will bring on what comes next and hopefully in a few months, all of my efforts will yield some great eats.

I hope you are taking the time to plant some food wherever you are. Even if its just a few plants on a patio. Every little bit helps and we all need all the help we can get these days.

When life is rough, play golf

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I was standing in the teeing area trying to figure out the best approach to get my ball where I wanted it to go.

Once I settled on an approach, I pulled my driver, set the tee and my ball.

As the old joke goes, I addressed the ball – “Hello ball.”

I gave a practice swing to make sure I had the right form. I didn’t but I never have. But I keep trying to do so.

I pulled back my driver and brought it down to hit the ball just right. I love the sound when it hits just right and off into the sky the ball flies. I look trying to follow the ball and it veers from center headed towards the rough on the left side of the fairway.

My plan and swing had failed to propel me in line with the hole. Was it my swing? Maybe the wind? Could it have been my driver?

In all seriousness, it was all these things, they all played a part in where the ball flew and landed.

The greatest not mentioned was my skill as a golfer, which I am the first to say is non-existent beyond having an outstanding grip on the club. After that its all down hill.

I have however hit a few good drives and quite a few outstanding putts along the way. Though I have frustrated some very good golfers making the score go the wrong way for the team.

Why do people spend so much time chasing a little golf egg around this long green pasture where gophers left holes and people stuck flags in them so people wouldn’t step in them?

Well perhaps its our present-day self reaching back to the inner history of our spirit which remembers the endless days of our ancestors roaming through nature in search of game to put on the table to survive. Since many no longer fulfill that activity, golfing provides an alternative mechanism to sustain that internal feeling. We even call it shooting a round of golf.

I wish I could say I have learned some lessons that I could impart to you about my times on the back nine, but unfortunately, other than avoiding the alligators when golfing in Florida, I’ve got nothing.

However, I have learned that many business deals are shaped on the course, so perhaps that is a lesson. If you are young man in a profession that is made in the deals then be sure you can play a round of golf.

Can I convey a life lesson – enjoy your time on this earth. If you like being outside, find a pastime that will fill your soul with the warmth of happiness that refills your engine. Golf is it for some, for others its hiking, others gardening, others …. the list is endless. Find those that uplift you and press on, just watch out for those not watching out for you. Fore!!!

Tarry a little longer

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I recently sat in the pew for a funeral listening to the preachers and speakers as they focused on the amazing life of a friend, colleague and co-author – the late Ringgold Mayor Joe Barger.

We spent nearly a year working weekly creating his autobiography – Testing the Metal of Life.

One line from the speakers really stuck with me shared by speaker Gary Knowles – he closed with the line tarry a little longer, when speaking about how he regretted not spending a little more time with the deceased when he passed by seeing him working out in his yard.

That stuck with me – everyday our lives take us by people’s houses. We see folks on the street, in the store or around town. Sometimes its people we see often, sometimes its an unusual crossing of paths.

What do you do? Do you wave and keep going? Do you stop and make small talk? Do you really greet an old friend and spend some time, maybe ask them to join you for lunch or coffee?

A few minutes can tell us a lot about other people’s circumstances. With the seasons of life, people move into and out of our lives and we lose touch.

They stay with us in mind as we last left them. As the years pass we picture them as we last saw them, so we can sometimes be surprised by what we find if they pop up unexpected.

Do or did they mean something in your life?

Are they older? Are they your age?

If you think about it, we all have people in our lives of all ages, from all phases, that we wish we could have spent a few more minutes with, when they were gone.

Just a few more words, another afternoon fishing, a ballgame, a dance, time around the kitchen table sharing stories, a walk in the woods, just sitting and not saying anything could have meant the world to any of us when we look down into their closed eyes in a casket.

In short, the message to all of us is clear, if someone’s means something to you, don’t hurry, don’t rush, just tarry a little longer. You never know when it might be the last time you see them.

Sometimes a statement is just that

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Conversations have always been a two-way street.
One person says something, another returns. Many times these moments pass in full agreement with both parties who are speaking totally in agreement on the topic.
Just the same, in a moment total agreement might turn on a dime and become a disagreement.
Where do these come from? Is it buried in the conversation? Is it the opinion expressed by one of the participants?  Is it a misunderstanding?
We have all experienced such. Sometimes they come up out of nowhere. Sometimes they are carefully crafted with selected words to entice just such a reaction.
Some folks enjoy creating strife or conflict. They draw a pleasure out of participating within the verbal joust between competitors.
I think sometimes especially among men who are not friends, there is almost a sense that conflict is how we are suppose to interact. After all we are trained that from childhood. Compete and come out on top in whatever our endeavor – sports, business, war, or even choosing a mate. There is nothing wrong with this thinking. It has stood the test of time to be a way to bring up the men we need to build and protect our society.
I am sad to say though, I am seeing fewer and fewer who are able to meet those expectations.
No matter the situation though, the ability to carry on civil conversations without coming to a disagreement is one that must be a constant effort of every man.
In a time when our country seems to be divided on many issues, perhaps all men and women need to reflect upon those that have come before and their sacrifices to America.
We are all Americans, we must not allow people to divide us into groups who disagree and fight with one another over petty issues. I recently saw a man’s testimony on social media saying that what is important is keeping our America a float and not allow it to sink under the weight of what is being done to us by those in positions of power.
We can battle over this way is right or that way is right. What I see is those we have put in charge don’t know the way and we are following them blindly into a dead end alley.
What will be our fate in that alley? I don’t know, I just hope that once we are there, we realize we are all there together and must work together, converse together to figure out how we might get out of there together as Americans.

Riding the pinto home

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If we are to realize what is before us, sometimes we must look back.
One of my fascinations since I was first handed the keys to my first car, a Ford Pinto, I looked out from the driveway thinking, I now have the freedom to go anywhere the road takes me.
Of course, that was a little over stated in my 17-year-old mind. There was a little thing like, how do I pay for gas, insurance, tires. I had to get to work on time. I have a project due at school. I guess this means I need a parking pass at High School now.
So, freedom wasn’t really free.
Despite those limitations, I still did have the ability to go places on my own.
While the vehicle bought at auction was not the hottest ride on the teenage scene and it certainly was not going to bring about the potential of any dates.
Four wheels and an engine were much better than pedaling or being driven by a parent.
Whenever I was able to reach the outskirts of the suburban life my parent’s had built outside Atlanta back towards the Appalachian hills of home, I always breathed a little easier. The green fields and the mountains made me feel better.
As the blacktops turned to gravel or dirt, its amazing how those changes made my heart grow the desire to just sit on top of a mountain and look off into the distance.
Of course, where our folks came from, you didn’t just sit on anyone’s mountain.
When you turned up a road before long everybody knew you were there and headed his or her way.
They knew if you friend, foe, kin or a lost stranger and soon had you sized up.
Friends and kin would see folks waving. If the road was a one lane and you met another, one of you would back up until the other could pass.
That of course gave an opportunity to pass the time of day, find out how their mom and them were, how’s the fishing, if anyone was sick back up that way.
The visit might even get you an invite to dinner, or a suggestion about a neighbor needing help with some chores.
If you were foe, needless to say, the waves would turn into leering stern looks depending on how much of a foe.
Strangers were given grace to a point until they realized when they got to the end of the road, they were either at someone’s house or someone’s closed gate. Then a bit of stern kindness “Neighbor, where are you trying to get to? – Who are going to see there? – Well, let me tell you how to get there.”
As soon as they wave you out of sight, they are burning up the phone lines to check on whomever you mentioned to let them know.
No matter the experience, the country road, the mountains, the streams uplifted my spirits and strengthened my being.
While the years are long gone from those days with the Ford Pinto, I still point my vehicle towards those old familiar mountain paths. More are paved, folks don’t take the time with each other they once did, but the underlying caring still remains. The pleasant encounters, the laughing with old friends, the occasional pickin’ and grinnin’ still remain and bring me smiles of the heart! That’s something we all need. You may not find yours where I find mine, but you should look just the same until you do.
So, get on your pinto and ride man, ride.

The colors of things yet to be seen

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As I drove through the mountains last fall looking at bright yellows, deep reds and variety of greens and browns, I felt a warmness coming over me beckoning back to my childhood riding in the back seat of my parents blue 1964 Chevy Malibu as we made our way through the mountains heading to who knows where.

The adventure of travel was something that we all enjoyed, trying to find something we had not seen, something that would be an experience we could share throughout our memories.
I don’t know what it was that made those trips through the hills and hollers in full color that drew me into a sense of security while yet being awed by the change of the seasons enveloping us.
As we drove I would watch the leaves whisk around in our wake as the car sped through the countryside, often as we would unexpectedly swoop over a hill I would feel my stomach jump like being on a roller coaster.
If we travelled into the night and the temperature began to drop, I was allowed to curl up in the floorboard near the heater vent and I would drift off to sleep until my father scooped me up in his arms and took me into our destination for a night’s rest. Today, I know that is something children will never experience and probably for safety reasons for the best.
We would roll through small town after small town sometimes stopping for a visit, sometimes not, but eventually our journey would take us to somewhere we had never been before.
In a way, I guess in the modern sense this was the pioneering blood deep within our spirits that inspired the need to see something new. Unlike a generation before when travel meant horses, wagons or even train trips, if you could afford it, we were blessed with affordable gasoline and the advantage and freedom of travel by automobile as far as the roads could take us.
Unlike our forbearers, we weren’t the first to see a thing unseen by previous frontiersman, but still there was a sense of the unknown especially for me as a child.
I guess that has never left me, even as I pour over faded photos of those trips, sights that are now just a memory, I still feel that exhilaration, I see the sights through the window of that Malibu.
Even today with the higher cost of gas and travel, I still feel an excitement when I slip behind the wheel and head off to some place I have never been before. The same is true for spring and summer excursions across the country. Although after years of travel as an entertainer, I have to travel much farther away to see those unknowns but I still seek the sights.
As you travel, I hope you and your family and friends, find new sights, make new memories, and are blessed with the beauty of America byways!

 

 

Reaching back to push forward

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Life is something that we should cherish with every passing breath. Often times we do not appreciate the simplest things like the feel of cool breeze on a hot summer day; the taste of a fresh glass of homemade lemonade so cold that the outside of the glass drips; the deep red color of a vine-ripened tomato as its thinly sliced for a tomato sandwich slightly smeared with JFG mayonnaise.

This morning I have pondered along with some of my fellow writers what common ground there is between the generations of Americans that now bind us as a people. At one time it was our country’s deep agricultural heritage, the connection to the soil and what through sweat and hard work it could provide for both the sustenance and financial gain of the family.

Generations of Americans even those that lived in the cities, depended upon family farms to provide what our country needed to survive. In my lifetime, we have seen much of farming shift to larger business concerns and there has been a generation, possibly two, of individuals which have no close connection to the land, they didn’t grow up on the farm or even spend days helping their grandparents haul hay, cut okra, pick tomatoes or pull corn.

So what does this mean for the future of our country, for the preservation of our lifestyle and the heritage of our communities? Are we destined to one-day build museums dedicated to the preservation of subdivisions? What values of history are we giving the current generation? Will they look back at a tractor and ask, “What’s that?”

With generations of Americans who have little or no practical daily connection to the land, how will they sustain themselves in an emergency such as the upcoming worldwide medical pandemic that is being heralded by the media? What happens when milk can no longer be sent from the far off mega-farms of the west? I bet there aren’t many households that have shelves lined with canned goods enough to get the family through to the next growing season, as was our ancestors’ custom. What will happen to a generation with no food because there will be no way to move it from place to place?

During the worst period in this country’s history, the Great Depression, even the poorest farmer, who was not devastated by natural disaster, had some amount of food to eat. Thousands of people who lived in the cities were able to receive food in soup lines because many farmers were able to keep working the land and caring people were willing to help those in need. They all had a connection to the land.

If our state, our county, our community was totally cut off from the outside world could we survive? Do we have a plan in place to feed and meet the needs of our population? Could we create the items needed for day to day life? Do we have the people who have the knowledge to do that?

While I’ll say that I believe that many leaders have considered the possibility, I do not think that we have a plan in place that could keep our state or county functioning on its own. It will take a joint effort at a local level, community to community, neighbor to neighbor, to see that each family or person makes it through in such a situation.

Will America ever face some catastrophe that will throw us backwards in time wishing that we had a few acres to plant potatoes and a milk cow to provide some milk and a horse to ride to town? I don’t know but even if it didn’t, it probably wouldn’t hurt if everybody knew how to dig taters, which part of the cow the milk comes from and how to get it to come out and just how do you get the key in a horse’s ignition and more important where are the brakes on one of them things. Just kidding, of course I know where the brakes are.

Do I have the answers as to what the future will be like, of course not, that is only in the Hands of God. Do I have a hope as to what I would like it to be? I certainly do.

I see an America that is covered with strong communities of caring and loving individuals who give their neighbors a helping hand when its needed. They go out of their way to help pick up a man when he is down, brush him off and help him along life’s road.

I see an America where greed and crime is something that exists only in the minds of creative novelists and film directors instead of the eyes our fellow man. I see an America where you make choices that are good for all the people not just a chosen few. I see an America where when a leader actually stands up and says something he or she actually believes rather than what the public wants to hear. Where his or her words of inspiration can actually mobilize this country towards a common good of creating a world that will be something our future generations can build from rather than have to pay for.

I see an America where each community is capable of standing on its own using the talents of its citizenry and the abilities of its businesses and industries no matter what the country as a whole may have to withstand in its future.

My friends the future of America is up to each one of us, its not just the job of Washington, Atlanta, Chattanooga, the guy next door, its not just the job of the woman down the street, it takes each of us working every single day improving our community as a whole by stepping outside our comfort zones and reaching out to make a difference.

It is up to us to have our own lives prepared for emergencies and to work with our local leaders to make sure that plans are in place. It is only through preparation that we as individuals or communities can reach out and help others, secure in the knowledge that our own families and communities are safe and adequate supplies are available to meet the needs at home.

Will this generation and those that follow be less because they are further removed from America’s roots? I think as long as our society continues to head in the same direction, each generation will make their way into the brave new world but it’s the what ifs that sometime worry me and make me thankful that God is in control. But even with God’s control He expects all of us to do our part. Perhaps getting closer to and understanding the role that the land plays in our lives and making sure that that role never vanishes might be one way we can improve our little corner of the world.

Learning to be a host

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     The sun swept across the dark wood floor forming a light spot in the shape of a heart that I noticed as my mother buzzed around the room with dishes in her hand setting the table.
On the kitchen stove, pans were gurgling as meatballs simmered in a sauce, angel hair pasta boiled with a hint of basil filling the air.
The evening was close at hand and she was expecting the neighbors over for a light spaghetti dinner and an evening of cards and conversation.
In the fall prior to election, the conversation often leaned more to political strategies of mustering the neighbors and friends to get out and campaign or vote for one of the candidates my mother was sold upon, After election, the dialogue kept to local gossip and plans for the holidays.
For me an evening such as this meant I would be relegated to the children’s table for supper and the other children and I would be occupying us in another room with a board game of some nature.
While I didn’t mind these evenings generally. Unfortunately, often times my mother’s friends had an abundance of female children. While I guess that wasn’t unfortunate to them, for me, that meant in addition to being relegated to eating with them at the children’s table and minding my manners, I would have to mind my manners all evening as we played. With the girls, there was no running like wild Indians, no rough housing, we played civilized games such as Go Fish, Monopoly, Operation, Life or whichever board game suited my guest’s fancies.
Cheating was out of the question in these circumstances. I was the host; I had to make sure everyone was following the rules including me. This action sometimes got me into some very heated discussions with my guests. I realized that sometimes girls were not the frills and lace I was led to believe as some of them would get right mean when they didn’t get their way.
If it had been a guy, we could have settled our differences with a short wrestling match or a few exchanged fists, with the victor getting their way in the disagreement and the game continued. You couldn’t do that with the girls. They might have won and then I would have never heard the end of it. Of course, I am kidding, I was taught not to fight with a girl, even though a few of them needed a whoopin’, I would have to leave that to their folks.
Now that is not to say a girl didn’t hit me a couple of times in these engagements. They did and then they would escape to the safety of the living room where the adults were engaged in civilized pursuits.
Did I ever do the same, well, let’s just say, I usually found a way to get even by pulling a return prank of some description.
After all it was my job to see all the kids had a good time. If one was acting out of line, thee best way to accomplish a good time were to bring the askew kid back into plum with the rest of us. Sometimes that took some creative comeupens.
Despite whether my guests were female or male, I did always enjoy these times when I was asked to entertain. It was an opportunity to learn some of the basic expectations for treating friends in your home,
So friends, have you taught your children and grandchildren how to be a host. Not just a friend but also a host in their home.
Depending on your customs and traditions, such a skill can lay the groundwork for opportunities in which they will serve both in their lives and at work.

Overcome the news, look close to home

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If you watch a lot of news reports, especially since many stories air over and over again at noon, 5:00, 5:30, 6:00 and 11:00, you may soon come to believe that the world is in terrible trouble. Violence, crime and tragedies permeate everywhere you look. How many of you have asked, “What is the world coming to?”

I have heard that one of the first things some therapists do to treat depression is encourage the patient to stop watching the news. Amazingly, it often helps.

People often carry the weight of what they see and hear in the news with them. They worry about the family who lost their home to a fire, the child who disappeared from his home, the children of a mother killed by a drunk driver, the elderly woman who was the victim of a robbery, and the victims of plagues or violence of war.

Have you ever heard someone say, “People just don’t care about others anymore.” I think some do not, but the majority of people does care. I think people earnestly care, but often do not know what to do about it or do not think they have the time.

In my past career as a journalist, I had an opportunity to read through a volume of news, good and bad. There were a number of tragedies in the pages, sadness because of loss of family and friends, crimes throughout our county and the like.

Also within those pages were stories of people who do care. People who went the extra mile to make a difference. People who were honored with awards for their service. Public servants who try their best to serve the people to the best of their abilities.

Where I have found the greatest nature of caring is not in the big headlines and the artistic photos but within the community calendar each week. There are organizations needing volunteers to help relieve many of the horrors that are reported on the evening news.

I would like to encourage you to take the time to read these. You can make a difference right in your hometown. It might be something as little as buying a suitcase to donate through to a new foster child so he/she will have a place to keep their belongings rather than in a paper sack. It might be giving time a Literacy program to help someone read, or just to watch folks children while they learn. It might be giving blood to help an accident victim. It might be cleaning out your closet to donate items that can be used by someone else, which provides help to area families in need. These are just a few of dozens of groups and organizations that are included in community calendars. By sharing a few hours a week, or just an hour every now and then, you could really make a dent in making our world a better place.

Life is only made better by the efforts of the hands and feet of those that care. Our world is filled with worries, concerns, problems that we cannot solve. Within our abilities maybe we can make a dent in a need near our home. We generally cannot even aide in the issues that fly across our screens as thanks to connectiveness we are visually able to see misery at the four corners of the earth. But at our own back door, through our own windows the needs are great and we can strive to one by one make those needs evaporate.

I hope all of you can find something within your local news that makes you feel good about the community you call home. I hope the good news within these pages always outweighs the bad.