A Harley and an ice cream cone

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One never knows from where your positive influences in life might come.
When I was an overweight teen on my first real job at the Dairy Queen, a man rode into my life on a black Harley Davidson to take a job as store manager who would widen my prospective on the world.
Ed Cross fit all the stereotypes a young teen might associate with a biker in the 1970s, long hair, wearing black leather and hanging out with other biker friends.
All I had seen of bikers in my life to that point were film depictions which left some initial fears and concerns on what to expect. Ed changed all those early misconceptions for me. He was a hardworking, caring individual whose laughter and jokes filled the hours of our work environment with a positive spirit.
His strength which carried an air of fear associated with it, kept a bunch of male and female teenagers as well as adults in line keeping food going out the windows from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. daily.
Ed taught me business tools which I have used throughout my life – doing product inventories, placing warehouse orders, counting cash register tills, and making deposits. I watched and assisted him in fixing equipment of all kinds to help us keep operating.
I saw him work double shifts when others were not available. I watched him reach out to help young people among our staff who were going through a tough time in their lives and who felt they could not turn to anyone else.
A few days ago, I learned that Ed passed away and it brought back memories of all the laughs, all the lessons learned and the hours spent together making an honest living. Without Ed, my early music career would have never flourished. Because of him and our store owner Joe Wyche, I seldom worked a Friday or Saturday, allowing me the opportunity to tour and appear around the country while keeping a steady income.
I think, at least I hope, Ed knew all the difference he made in the lives of us Dairy Queen kids. If there is someone who has made a difference in your life, I hope you will take the time to share with them the impact they had.

Remembering the legendary Ralph Stanley

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Grand Ole Opry guest stars Randall Franks and Ralph Stanley in the 1980s.

When I started as a disc jockey in radio at WRFG in Atlanta, Ga., the influence of musical preferences of the hosts T.P.  and Sandra Hollomon of the Bluegrass Festival impacted me with every drop of needle.
I had known the music of the Stanley Brothers since I began listening to mountain music and as I learned to play, songs they popularized such as “Rank Stranger” and “White Dove” became regular additions to jam sessions.
The music of Ralph Stanley became part of my life largely from T.P.’s admiration.
Stanley was born and raised in southwest Virginia, a land of coal mines and deep forests where he and his brother formed the Stanley Brothers and their Clinch Mountain Boys in 1946. Their father would sing them old traditional songs like “Man of Constant Sorrow,” while their mother, a banjo player, taught them the old-time clawhammer style, in which the player’s fingers strike downward at the strings in a rhythmic style.
I was saddened to learn of his passing recently at the age of 89. I was glad I was able to share with him what he meant to me in the final year of his life through my book “Encouragers II : Walking with the Masters.”
As my star as a singer and musician began to rise, I found myself performing for the Grand Ole Opry and standing side-by-side with legendary performers including Ralph. I also began appearing in festivals with him and his Clinch Mountain Boys including a 1988 appearance at the IBMA Legends of Bluegrass show.
Among the former band members were include Curly Ray Cline, vocalist Larry Sparks and Melvin Goins. He would change the lineup of the band over the years, later including Jack Cooke, and mentored younger artists like Keith Whitley and Ricky Skaggs, who also performed with him.
As time went on, my association with Ralph and various members of his band grew. I remember the birth of Ralph II and was so proud to see him come to the stage to perform and grow in music. Eventually our association brought me to produce Dr. Ralph in the studio and record with him. I stood by him on stage so many times performing, I could not count them. One of my greatest honors are the occasions he shared with me that over the years that he had become a fan of mine and looked forward to seeing my performances.
Ralph’s career exploded after his musical involvement in the film “O’ Brother Where Art Thou” as the rest of the world learned what a true treasure he was.  At the of age 73, he was introduced to a new generation of fans in 2000 due to his chilling a cappella dirge “O Death.” The album was a runaway hit, topping the Billboard 200 chart, as well as the country albums and soundtrack charts, and sold millions of copies.
His Renaissance saw his induction into the Grand Ole Opry and his winning three Grammys.
He won a Grammy for best male country vocal performance in 2002 — beating out Tim McGraw, Ryan Adams, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash and Lyle Lovett — and was the focus of a successful tour and documentary inspired by the soundtrack. The soundtrack, produced by T Bone Burnett, also won a Grammy for album of the year. The following year he and Jim Lauderdale would win a Grammy for best bluegrass album for “Lost in the Lonesome Pines.”
He said in an interview with The Associated Press in 2002 that younger people were coming to see his shows and hear his “old time music,” and was enjoying the belated recognition.
“I wish it had come 25 years sooner,” he said. “I am still enjoying it, but I would have had longer to enjoy it.”
Despite health problems, he continued to record and tour into his 80s, often performing with his son Ralph Stanley II on guitar and his grandson Nathan on mandolin.
His funeral service was held at his bluegrass music park near McClure, Va. His music will sustain the mountain sounds for generations to come and his legacy is in the hands of his musical grandchildren who continue to thrill audiences as they build a legacy of their own.

If dust collects, find a broom

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I covered the cloth in furniture polish and pushed it across the top of the wardrobe removing each object perched there and giving it a good going over.
When I was a boy, I always wondered what was on top of the wardrobe because I couldn’t see it. Now I wish I didn’t.
Dust seems to find its way into every place in our homes. I found it this past weekend settled in places that I was amazed it could find its way into.
Those dust bunnies that seem to playfully dance across the floors ran from my vacuum as if they were in fear for their lives. But after much effort, I managed to once again make my room a haven from the sneezing brought on by these allergens.
I have often wondered where all this dust comes from. I could understand when we kept windows and doors open to let in the cooler air, that it would sneak in from outside on those molecules which keeps us ticking.
Today though with almost every house closed up tight to keep in the air conditioning and heat, I am amazed at what sneaks through. I have filters on every vent yet it still gets in piling up underneath and on top of everything that does not move.
Dust is similar to the things that we let into our lives when we pay little attention to the details as we rush through each and every day.
The words uttered by a love one, important to them, but seemingly a nuisance to us, that we appear not to hear or acknowledge – some dust piles up.
The unknown person we cut off in traffic who the goes home and yells at their child or worse yet in anger causes an accident – some dust piles up.
The task we are assigned at work that we half-heartedly complete thinking no one will notice its insufficiencies – some dust piles up.
We don’t volunteer for that much needed charity project, though we have the time, and we have the right skills to make it happen – some dust piles up.
We don’t spend time with our loved ones because we are simply too tired and need to relax watching the game or going out with our friends – some dust piles up.
We do things, we would prefer others not know about – some dust piles up.
Easily, just like a neglected room in the house, we can allow corners or our lives to become covered in small particles that pile up. Over time much like the whimsical dust bunnies playfully dancing across the floor, these particles build up higher and higher.
Sometimes in life the piles eventually get so high they impact our relationships with others, create problems we cannot overcome, and leave us lying in the dirt gasping for breath.
It never hurts every now and again to take up a wide angled broom, turn on every light in your house, and sweep away all the dust, making things clean again. Put the problems and struggles in the dust bin and close the lid. It is amazing how clearing the air will allow you to breathe easier!

I walk behind the mower, therefore I am

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When I began my working experience, I always looked forward to the arrival of warm weather.
I could hear my wallet growing exponentially with each inch rise of the green, green grass of home.
Well, maybe more like the neighbors’ grass since I didn’t get paid for mowing our yard.
When I was about 10, I saved enough money from my allowance to buy a second hand push mower and then set out to find willing partners in my desire to become a millionaire before age 11. Well, that is a slight exaggeration, I was mainly hoping for a few neighbors who would give me $10 every couple of weeks to mow their yards.
I amassed a pretty good list of clients which kept me busy as long as my allergies didn’t get the best of me.  Al Weidenmuller was the first I think agreeing to my business proposal, but I had to learn how to deal with raking magnolia leaves prior to each mowing; next was Ed Mikell – with more Magnolia leaves.
Then as I progressed down the street, I picked up the Neils, occasionally the Reeds, who had Zoysia and I learned to hate that type of grass because it was so hard to push. Also sometimes the Grosses.
The list grew overtime and eventually I had to enlist my father to help get me to and from in his truck as I press on beyond walking distance.
I found the time behind the push mower a time to think, dream, write songs along to the rhythm of the engine in harmony with hits hum.
As I look back, sometimes I wonder where that youthful exuberance went for the activity. I kept up the business until I finished college, even adding other landscaping tasks and working sometimes miles from my home. Eventually though, I slowly weened my customers off my services as I wanted to focus on finding my fit in the professional world after earning my degree.  Leaving me with just the task of mowing my own yard.
Through the years, I have liked the task less and less, giving me the understanding of why so many were willing to accept my eagerness to mow. My late mother use to draw great joy from hopping upon the riding mower and going full speed around the task as I weeded and pushed. She looked forward to it, possibly because it was something she could accomplish with her failing health and see a positive outcome.
Sometimes now I am even blessed by the kindness of a neighbor who will knock mine out with his. I am so happy when I see his kindness and as happy when I return the favor to him.
Sometimes I miss that young boy and young man who looked forward to the inch by inch progress of the green growth, as I sit on my back porch, I look more forward to the end of the growing season and often quip, I should do like Hollywood – just kill it and paint it green so it stays the same.
No matter where you are in your synergy with the mower and the grass, I hope you find your bliss with the endeavor and make joy in the fact that I walk behind (or ride upon) the mower, therefore I am.

The freedom of nothing left to prove

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It seems so much of our life is spent working to prove something to someone else.
In our early years we aspire to gain the approval of our parents or key mentors that wish to see us succeed in education, sports, music or whatever dream they hold for us or share with us.
Sometimes, it’s the approval of our peers in these same pursuits, or other less beneficial objectives of youthful exuberance. There are those who succeed here and those who fail.
Often these successes or failures catapult our emotional make up forward setting some of the undertones for our life. I know in my case, the failures left an underlying “I’m going to show you” settled deep in my craw. I drew upon that hurt for many years pushing me to over achieve in many ways.
No matter the outcome of youth we step forward hoping to once again prove to the world that we can be somebody – a success in work, a success in picking the right person to marry, a success in raising children, a success in whatever is next on the long list that we seek others’ approval to prop up our esteem, our importance, and our life.
Often we find ourselves in a cycle of seeking others approval for the rest of our life.
In a conversation, I was having with a friend the other day, I said something that I had not even thought about. As I look back upon the path I have travelled, I am blessed to have had so many distinctive mentors to which I have tried to prove my value in some aspect of my professional or personal endeavors.
As I began thinking except in the form of being a creator of art in word, note and other form seeking the approval of those of you who buy my work and help me sustain the existence I enjoy, I thought I had no one left to prove anything to. Many of my key mentors who held those roles in my life have taken their final curtain calls.
As I relayed the story of a recent acting experience, I heard the words come out of my mouth, that I really wanted someone to acknowledge I could do what I was aspiring to do.  I realized that I had not yet left behind that desire of proving something to someone. It was still buried inside me with one more youthful goal that had not been achieved in full but could still be accomplished if I tried hard enough.
There it is driving me forward. After years of feeling I had nothing left to prove, which sometimes is not a bad place to be, once again, my blood is pumping with a desire, a hope, a goal that energizes my step.
So what is better, being to the point of nothing left to prove to anyone or having someone who inspires you to do more? I guess it depends on your own get up and go. I know one lady around 90 working on her doctorate. She has nothing to prove except to please her own soul.
If you are generally a self-starter, you probably move along OK, but every now and again, somebody may need to pour a little gasoline in your carburetor to get a spark and provide that forward momentum. If you need that in your life, I pray you have someone who provides that opportunity in love. Because in reality there are only two of us in this race to the finish line, us and the good Lord, who gives us a new chance every day to prove we are somebody serving, sharing and loving others for Him.

The needle is stuck again

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I have seen numerous members of my family and friends go through the ups and downs of chronic illnesses, and watched as they struggled with tasks which once they had performed with ease.
When I was just a child, volunteering in a local nursing home, I met a woman who was around eighty at the time. Her name was Georgia
McMahan. Georgia endured many of the ailments of her fellow residents but you would never know it.
From the moment you saw her, the smile that beamed from her face uplifted you and gave you a spirit of glee that could carry you
through any task. Added to the smile were words of encouragement, concern, and hope that poured from her very being.
While many of the folks that my efforts brought me in contact with were mired in what seem to be a ditch of despair, Georgia shined as
if standing on a mountain top in a field of wild flowers.
Sometimes as I hear different people share similar issues again and again, I see in my mind the spinning turntable of my youth with a 33
1/3 rpm record going round and round. I remember when a particular tune had been played too much or accidently scratched, sometimes the needle would find itself stuck repeating the same musical phrase over
and over again.
It took me getting up, going to the record player, and bumping the needle’s arm ever so gently to help it get out of the record’s deep
dark vinyl groove and move it musically on down the road.
Like that needle, it is so easy to get stuck in the scratches and wore out spaces of our lives and find it hard to move on. We spin
around endlessly in the same spot, repeating the same actions, saying the same things only to find ourselves doing it over again.
Sometimes it takes someone to give us a gentle shove to realize that just a millimeter down our path we may find something better, and
even if we don’t, we are better for the trying.
As I think back on Georgia now, I sort of see her as that person in that place who God sent to gently nudge all those around her and give
them a chance to stop being stuck in a groove that was wearing on them and everyone that could hear their song.
Are you serving as a catalyst to help yourself and others over the hump and find a smoother path?  If not, why not?
I can surely say the path that Georgia showed me as a child sure gives life a better spin than any others I have seen. I hope I can
always take the spin that lets me seem as if I am on the mountain in a field of wildflowers.

Loving beyond worldly measure

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Some of the most difficult times to watch are when someone we know is trying to be there for a loved one when he or she is coming to the end of his or her journey. As I think back through the years, I remember watching my mother and father as they reached out to support friends or relatives in such times.
If the loved one was elsewhere, they would close up the business, and off they’d go for an undetermined amount of time to just be present.
There to be called upon if needed for and extra pair of hands and legs to: run errands, do day-to-day tasks, cook, just simply sit,
talk, laugh, console, remember, and pray.
I saw my mother and father do this time and time again. I know they drew no financial benefit from what they were doing. Their only
requite was in knowing they were serving Christ with their actions.
Sometimes their presence reached beyond the caregivers to the patient and I know that brought a peace over each of them when they knew they comforted someone as they prepared to cross over.
As a small boy, I watched this routine many times as they said goodbye to former co-workers and neighbors, friends from throughout
their lives, and of course, relatives of every description who impacted their lives.
I vaguely remember one period in my childhood when I felt I was spending more time in hospitals and funeral homes than at school but
death comes at God’s appointment not on our timetables.
I am now at a similar point in time of my life as they were when they were saying goodbye to so many. So, I have become readily cognizant that like my folks, many of those I know are being called, some old, some young, but its seems more with every passing year.
As I reflect on what can I do to support their loved ones, I think back on the model that my parents gave me. I try to simply be present
whenever possible to offer support and help them walk down the path I have already walked. I know that hope, comfort and strength should be offered along the path and I only pray that I can be an instrument to provide some aspect of these to all concerned along the final journey.
Most of us know someone who is facing this point in life, what are you doing to support he or she, and his or her circle of caregivers?
I encourage you to find some way to make a difference; you may be able to leave a message of love that changes a life forever and
passes a legacy of love to your children as they see how you help others in a time in life we all must face.

A country church where the world meets to worship

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I reached over and turned off the 5:15 a.m. alarm. Rubbing my face with my hands, I wiped the sleep from my eyes as I threw back the covers and headed towards the bathroom to wash myself awake.
The hotel room looked like many others that I stay in week after week when I am on the road to share my music, so I finished getting ready, slipped into my suit and carried down my bags and instruments and loaded the car and made my way to the breakfast room by 6 a.m. to eat a bite before taking the twenty -minute drive to the church from Americus. Read more

A little country sound goin’ ‘round

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Two of my favorites country performers Gene Watson and John Anderson are back with successes to share.

Gene Watson blends traditional, organic country that purists long for in his new album, Real.Country.Music., available across digital retailers. Watson’s 33rd studio album charted at No. 72 on Billboard Top Country Albums and is No. 1 on Amazon’s best-selling classic country albums. Read more

Activity helps strengthen each day

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Click, click, click, click, emanates from my sneakers as I walk along the hiking path ever hopeful that with each passing mile I am a little more fit and well on my way to losing the few pounds I am seeking to shed.

After opening boxes, and pulling jeans up only to find they will not close and a crowbar will be needed to get them back off. Read more