When I was a little boy, I remember holding my dad’s hand while walking on the sidewalk along the main street of our county seat.
He seemed so big even though the large buildings of brick and stone along the street made even him look small by comparison. The cars seemed to speed buy as folks rushed about in life trying to fill their days with making a living.
Do you ever go to the back of the house, and when you get there you don’t remember what you went after?
How about do you ever go to the store without a list, only to return home with everything but what you went after?
It amazes me how things seem to accumulate in my house.
I really believe someone comes in while I am gone and messes everything up, I know I would not allow things to pile to the point of an avalanche.
As I sat on the back porch watching the grass die, I could not help but find myself in my mind’s eye sitting similarly on my grandmother’s porch. It was a summer where I spent a lot of time with my Grandma Kitty and Aunt Norma Jean. Flossie, the milk cow, was meandering through the yard headed for a shade tree where she laid down and tried to create a bit of a breeze using her tail to move an almost non-existent breeze.
I got up this morning and wondered what will the day bring.
Each morning that I awake, I push myself from the bedclothes, I shake off the grogginess left by sleep.
I move my legs towards preparing myself for the day – wash, shave, brush, comb, fresh clothes and so then it begins. What will the day be?
I held the Ivory soap close to my nose and breathed in deeply. There was nothing quite like the smell of a fresh bar of soap out of the package. The smell carried me back to my days of late summer evenings of avoiding my bath as a boy.
Needless to say I would always need one after playing ball in the light of the street lamps.
Around the bases were Charlotte, Clay, Bubba, Charlie and Jennifer. Some were on base while others anxiously awaited me as I prepared the swing the bat on Bruce’s pitches.
I am coming to the conclusion that the art of visitin’ is now a thing of the past for much of America.
I can remember as a kid, as dinner time came near, a neighbor or family friend would just happen by and mother and dad would ask them to pull up a chair and mother would set another place at the table.
I learned recently that another musician friend was called home – Doug Dillard (1937-2012).
It has been nearly 50 years since the Darlings crawled up onto Briscoe Darling’s truck and rode down from the hills into Mayberry. With them were sister Charlene (Maggie Peterson) and all the Darling boys (The Dillards: Rodney Dillard, guitar; Doug Dillard, banjo; Mitch Jayne, bass; and Dean Webb, mandolin) with their instruments in hand.
In the early part of my music career in Nashville, one of the biggest stars of the industry was at the top of his career – Kenny Rogers. Now after 54 years in the business, he continues to thrill audiences and record some wonderful music.
Kenny has just combined forces with Warner Bros. Records to continue his career with the label that holds much of his catalog.
There was an amazing gathering of talent that came together to rejoice their way through the Gospel Music Association’s Dove Awards in Atlanta recently.
I was so pleased to see many of my friends who are industry veterans finally receive recognition for the work.
Karen Peck and New River garnered their first two Dove awards with “Good Things Are Happening” as Country Recorded Song of the Year and “Reach Out” for Southern Gospel Album of the Year. Visit (http://www.
