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Future or past, which has more?

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My brother asked me, ‘Are you living in the past?’ I often do find myself lingering within my memories. As time passes, I think it is easy to place more emphasis on what has gone by in your life than what is ahead.
That is probably especially so for someone who spends a great deal of time writing. You depend on your memories of experiences, people, places to bring your writing to life, add color, excitement and depth.
You think about the summer days running through a spraying sprinkler with friends with slippery green grass beneath you bare feet. A call from the porch brings us running and dripping as my folks cut up an ice cold watermelon on the back porch handing a piece to each of the kids. As we smiled while chewing it to the deep green rind the red juice ran down our faces and hands leaving us so sticky but oh so satisfied.
Standing outside the closed green apartment door, I wait for my first date or someone to answer it. I’m afraid that I might do something that would embarrass her or myself in some way as the evening progressed. And finally when the evening was a success, after finding that I didn’t make a fool of myself. I realized there was some hope she might actually like me.
Looking out from behind the deep burgundy curtains to see one of the first audiences for which I would perform at my elementary school, feeling my heart beat faster and faster; hearing the parents and students talk among themselves as the curtain came close to the opening.
The smell of diesel fills the air. I’m standing outside the tour bus anxiously waiting to catch a glimpse or maybe even shake the hand of an icon. He’s about to enter the Cathedral Caverns to record an album. I had not yet met the man who would play such a huge role in my life. His name was Bill Monroe.
Looking across a wooded area where we were filming a TV show, I was waiting to see the arrival of television icon Carroll O’Connor. I could have never imagined the impact the steps he took into my life that day could change the rest of my life.
Holding the hands of my father and mother as they stepped through to the other side, I remember them leaving their shared memories, deepest cares, greatest concerns, highest hopes and wonderful dreams with me.
A few years back, I wrote a book series called Encouragers that has kept me embedded in the past for about three years. It provided me with some wonderful times folding myself into the past. It can be a great inspiration to look back and it can also bring great sorrow if one dwells too much on what is gone rather than what is to be.
With the conclusion of the writing stage of of my three-book Encouragers series: Finding the Light; Walking with the Masters; A Guiding Hand; I was hopeful and excited to look towards the future to create new opportunities, new adventures and new memories to write about.
Each day that dawns gives us the chance to write another chapter in our life or the life of another we may not even have met yet. Will you use this day to create a great adventure and make a difference? I am going to do my best to achieve that same goal, I hope you do too!

Is there more to the future or the past?

/in /by

My brother asked me recently, ‘Are you living in the past?’ I often do find myself lingering within my memories. As time passes, I think it is easy to place more emphasis on what has gone by in your life than what is ahead.
That is probably especially so for someone who spends a great deal of time writing. You depend on your memories of experiences, people, places to bring your writing to life, add color, excitement and depth.
The summer days running through a spraying sprinkler with friends with slippery green grass beneath you bare feet. A call from the porch brings us running and dripping as my folks cut up an ice cold watermelon on the back porch handing a piece to each of the kids. As we smiled while chewing it to the deep green rind the red juice ran down our faces and hands leaving us so sticky but oh so satisfied.
Standing outside the closed green apartment door, I wait for my first date to or someone to answer it. Fearing that I was going to do something that would embarrass her and I in some way as the evening progressed. And finally when the evening was over the success finding that I didn’t make a fool of myself and there was some hope she might actually like me.
Looking out from behind the deep burgundy curtains to see one of the first audiences for which I would perform at my elementary school, feeling my heart beat faster and faster; hearing the parents and students talk amongst themselves as the play came close to the curtain opening.
Standing outside the tour bus anxiously waiting to catch a glimpse or maybe even shake the hand of an icon as he entered the Cathedral Caverns to record an album. I had not yet met the man who would play such a huge role in my life – Bill Monroe.
Looking across the wooded area where we were filming to see the arrival of television icon Carroll O’Connor and never being able to imagine the impact these steps would have on the rest of my life.
Holding the hands of my father and mother as they stepped through to the other side leaving their shared memories, deepest cares, greatest concerns, highest hopes and wonderful dreams with me.
I wrote a book series – Encouragers that has kept me embedded in the past for about three years. It provided me with some wonderful times folding myself into the past. It can be a great inspiration to look back and it can also bring great sorrow if one dwells more on what is gone than what is to be.
With the conclusion of the writing stage of my three-book Encouragers series: Finding the Light; Walking with the Masters; A Guiding Hand; I was hopeful and excited to look towards the future to create new opportunities, new adventures and new memories to write about.
Each day that dawns gives us the chance to write another chapter in our life or the life of another we may not even have met yet. Will you use this day to create a great adventure and make a difference? I am going to do my best to achieve that result, I hope you do too!

 

Reach out to those who touched your life

/in /by

I stood on my tiptoes trying to see the inside of the skillet.
Inside it, bubbling in the grease side by side were breaded slices of zucchini squash. I had never tasted zucchini but this summer on our family trip north we stopped in Ohio and were visiting with my aunt Verna Hale.
“My I turn them,” I asked.
“Yes, let me show you how,” she said using the spatula and soon pointing out when it was time.
She had moved north from the valley below the Gravelly Spur Mountain in Tennessee to Ohio to seek work during WWII just like her sisters. Eventually in the 1950s several of the younger brothers moved north as well.
By the time I was standing by her stove, her children were essentially raised and started or close to starting on their own lives, so in many respects as a kid, I had the run of their ranch style house which set up high on a hill.
Their garden produced the squash she was cooking for dinner and I had gotten to help pick it with my uncle and watch closely as Aunt Verna cut and breaded it for frying. We brought them in from the garden and washed them in a sink that was in the garage, something I had never seen up until that point in my life.
My mom was also in the kitchen helping prepare some corn on the cob, and between the two, they were patting out hamburgers.
In my youth, her spotless home wherever it was, became a second one to me, and she became my closest aunt as we visited back and forth and when eventually she moved to  Tennessee and Florida in retirement.
Through the years she made it to a few of my concerts and was the only relative other than my mother and cousin Sue to visit me in Covington, Ga. meeting some of my co-stars from “In the Heat of the Night.”
Sadly, as my mother’s health declined, my mom chose to cut herself off from her family members and focus on her own well-being. As her caregiver, that choice changed my life, cutting me off from my extended family including Aunt Verna. We were able to reconnect after mother passed, seeing each other a few times and corresponding by mail, which was the conventional way we had through the years.
She raised two boys – Ron and Benny. Benny and his wife Carolyn lived with us for a while in Atlanta when they were starting their life together in a new place. They eventually moved south of Atlanta, Ga. and raised a family giving aunt Verna 23 grandchildren of different generations to be proud of.
I learned of her passing recently at the age of 94 and it flooded my mind with the smiles; the pats on the back; the comforter when a shoulder to cry on was needed; the countless meals she prepared and shared; the little gifts she gave; and always the encouragement that was present.
Though we have not been as close in recent years, my childhood, my teens and young adulthood was enhanced by her, I pray she knew that was appreciated. If you have someone in your family that touched your life, and is still within your reach, take a minute, call, write, e-mail or text and let them know it!