Arrested ~ My Side of The Story

Arrested - police_officer_arresting_young_man_cg4p9736339c_thI watched as the khaki and brown uniforms walked from the other side of the cafeteria. The officers stopped every few tables as if they were asking where they could find someone. The students pointed in my direction. When they got closer I stopped conversation with my friends and directed their attention toward the police. The County Mounty arrived at our table.

“I’m looking for Andy Oldham, and . . .” He said.

I only heard my name called, as it seemed the only one important to me at the moment. Why was he looking for me?

“Are you Andy Oldham?

“Yes sir.”

“Stand up, turn around and place both hands behind your back.”

“What did I do officer?”

He didn’t answer my question.

“There, they’re not too tight are they?” The Madison County Deputy asked.

“No sir, but what did I do? Shouldn’t I be told what I am being arrested for and read my rights, or something?”

“You’ll find out soon enough, and your rights will be read downtown,” he said.

*****

     The week before my arrest was Prank Week 1969. This week of scheming to see who could play the best trick happened on the campus of Anderson University at the beginning of the year. No one could get hurt physically, mentally, or emotionally. Since I have always enjoyed playing jokes on others, and having them played on me, I was looking forward to my freshman year in the dormitory at Dunn Hall.

Eric Borlin, my roommate, played his joke on his girlfriend, Jane, without realizing it. He didn’t mean it as a prank, but we loved it. Like a lot of men, Eric’s hair was dark brown but his mustache was red. To make them match he colored his mustache with brown shoe polish.

Around 10:30 one evening, a lot of guys were sitting around the fireplace when he and Jane came in to the Commons after a date.

“Hi Mo, hi Andy. What are you guys doing?”

Mo Hodge started laughing first Dennis Harrington chimed in. Sometimes I am a little slow, but this time I caught on before many others.

“Hi Eric, what’s that brown stuff around Jane’s mouth?” Mo asked.

When Eric got upset, or overly excited, his saliva filled his mouth and he would hold his hand under his mouth so he wouldn’t get drool all over his shirt. That’s exactly what happened. Eric began sucking slobber back into his mouth while looking at Jane.

“What’s around my mouth Eric?” Jane asked.

Holding one hand under his mouth he ushered her outside. “Come on let’s go.”

I can imagine the conversation they had over a large brown ring around her mouth. Of course, since she didn’t stay in the dorm, they had to go somewhere to clean it off before he took her home.

*****

    The girls in 1969 had a dorm curfew, boys did not. Late one night, several buddies of mine, and I, made our way to the girl’s freshman dorm and checked it out. We had been joking all week with some of the girls and told them we would get you before the week is over. After finding a couple of the girls cars we drove downtown to the Anderson Herald dock and acquired several bundles of old papers. We snuck back to the dorm, opened the bundles and wadded up all the papers. We stuffed as many papers in the car as we could and shut the doors. There were several bundles left over so we put them on top of the car.

When the girls didn’t comment on what had happened we were surprised. Prank Week ended and several weeks went by with no discussion. We were puzzled but knew we couldn’t ask or they would know we had played this dastardly trick.

Arrested - cop-flashlight-33872

   “My Dad is the Director of Security on Anderson’s campus,” I said. “Let me call him.”

“You will get your one phone call when we get to the jail, son. “

He took me, and my three buddies, and led us by the arm toward the front door of the student cafeteria. Hundreds of our peers stopped eating and stared in amazement. A group of my closest friends followed us out of the building. When we got the front door the Indiana policeman turned around and told them to stay there and not to follow.

“Duck your head, son,” he said, as he placed each of us in the backseat of the patrol car.

“I still don’t know what I did,” I said.

No response from the officer seemed appropriate for him, once again.

Two per car, I looked at my friend and he gazed at me.

I whispered, “Do you know why we are being arrested?”

He shrugged his shoulders indicating he was just as puzzled.

The car moved forward and east down University Boulevard, from the cafeteria. We turned right on Nursery Road, and right again on E. 5th Street. Yes, we were headed in the direction of the Anderson City Jail. Anxiety swept over my soul as we approached College Drive. Wait! We were supposed to turn left here, not right. Did this cop know where the jail was? Turning right again, and back onto University Boulevard, we were headed right for the cafeteria. Needless to say we were, now, totally perplexed.

The sergeant let us out in the same place we had been put in the cars. About that time these four girls, and about one hundred acquaintances, came running out pointing fingers and laughing. Unlocking our handcuffs, the cop said, “There has been a mistake. You are not the criminals we were looking for.” And, “Oh, by the way, you have been pranked.” He walked over to the girls and got a huge hug from each. He turned and smiled at us, got back in the driver’s seat and drove away.

I guess you know by now who played the best prank and it surely was not us guys. After several weeks the girls let us in on their secret. Even as conniving and careful as we were that night they were watching our every move from the third floor window of their dorm. They saw every piece of paper we stuffed in the car. While watching they planned their revenge. The next morning one of them drove the car to the recycle company and collected a little pocket change.

Weeks before my arrest, these college age juveniles were pulled over by this Madison County cop for running a stop sign. As girls will be, they laughed and giggled and used their child-like charm to make friends with him. When they needed a prank, he came through for them. Boy, did he ever.

I have to smile. After all these years, this was the best joke ever played on me. I will never forget. I have to stop and thank God for the humor in my life.

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A Gentle Giant

We had a great week of vacation. We went to Lewisburg, Ohio for a family reunion on my little brother’s farm. It was a great time of fun and family and reminiscing about things past. After the reunion the family went for a stay in the Smokey Mountains in Gatlinburg, TN. This was the first time we had rented a cabin and it was wonderful. Of course we went to Dollywood and Splash Mountain. And of course there always has to be shopping, ugh.

Gatlinburg, Tennessee

Gatlinburg, Tennessee

Friday was our last day and my son and daughter wanted to see Wonder Works, an upside-down house with lots of things to do inside. Once we found out it would take three hours we decided to take Kenzie (my 1 year old granddaughter) back to the cabin and wait until they called.

Half way up the mountain the car started sputtering but we made it to the cabin. When the kids called I climbed in the car only to find out it would not start. I called a repair shop and was told they would send a wrecker to pick me up but it would be at least two days, which would turn out to be Monday, due to being closed on Sunday, before they could even look at it. I told them to forget it.

I called my insurance and they sent a tow truck. Hearing the wrecker groan up the mountain to our cabin, I got worried. Upon arrival a man from the movie Deliverance climbed out of the cab. He loaded the car on the back and I rode down the mountain with him. He kept complaining about the brakes squealing because the shop won’t take the time to fix them and he told them one day they are going to give out. I prayed, “please, Lord, not today!”

Upon arrival at the shop, which was somewhere in the boonies and not near the main strips, I was stranded. The first thing I saw was Cujo. Stop laughing, it was true! Lying in the middle of the front door was a large Saint Bernard dog. He covered the entire entrance to the shop. He looked at me like he was thinking, not another person to disturb my nap. Cujo 1_Smokey Mountians_8083He was a huge dog with a right eye that was red and deformed. This did not make it any easier to make a decision about what to do. You can imagine what went through my mind. Do I step over him? Call for help? Try to find a back door? Shoo him away? None of these options seemed a good idea. Finally, a man walked out and stepped over him.  I took his action to be my cue so I stepped over Cujo and wasn’t ripped to shreds, YaY!Cujo 2_Smokey Mountians_8083_edited-1At the counter was a woman who reminded me of a very poor family with dirty clothes and face. It almost made me wonder if she was the mechanic. She was very polite and even offered me her car if I needed to go pick up the kids. Her husband came in. He was a big burly man with a high-pitched, almost female voice. I was relieved to see him and felt much safer when I read his cap, which simply said, I love my Jesus! He was just as polite as his wife and said he would send someone out to look at the car right away. He did, too. The battery was dead; there were only 7 amps of power left; she could not hold a charge. A new battery was installed only to find out it did not help. I waited for them to put in a new alternator, while I sat in a white plastic chair trying to keep Cujo from sniffing places I did not appreciate him going.

Only an hour had passed before, BAMA, the mechanic, had me ready to go. I was thankful for such nice people, a weird and unforgettable experience,  and that I could finally get back to the cabin.

The kids had walked about 4 miles to a McDonald’s in Pigeon Forge and waited for me to pick them up. We went back to the cabin and let them take a shower while I hugged on Kenzie. We went out for supper and then more shopping, ugh!

If you are ever in the Gatlinburg/Pigeon Forge area and need a tow, or a good mechanic, please look up BAMA at Carr’s Service Center. They are open 24/7, even the shop. Just remember this one thing, when you see a large Saint Bernard in the middle of the doorway it is safe to step over him. He is a gentle giant.

Carr's 24-Hour Service 865-453-3152

Carr’s 24-Hour Service
865-453-3152

The Night Bessie Bumped Her head

Costa Rica_Morgue Files_048

John Neil Ider “Ida” (Owens) Oldham was better known as Grannie to my two brothers and me. Her daddy wanted a boy and he told his wife it did not matter if it was a boy or a girl. When the baby was born he was namin’ it John Neil. His wife told him she did not care what he named her, she was naming her Ider. Most folks understood her name should be pronounced Ida, of course. In later years, she would have trouble with her name when needing identification because her name did not match her gender.

One of the things I enjoyed most, in growing up in Louisiana, was going to her house during the summer time and spend a week; just the two of us. The summer of 1959, at nine years old, is one I have never forgotten. Pioneer, Louisiana was a small town with one wood frame country store and one gas pump. Because it was a farming community there was always danger on every corner if you did not stay fully aware of your surroundings.

Papa had died in 1954 leaving Grannie to tend the forty-acre farm alone. I was only four when he passed. She was lonely at times and enjoyed having company. TV was watched every night with the shows in black and white. Bedtime for me rolled around at 8:30PM. I was usually afraid to go to bed alone. A farm in the country is extremely dark in the middle of the night. One consolation was the .22 rifle standing next to the bed. I had used it several times looking for rabbit and squirrels. I knew if I needed to protect myself the rifle was there.

It was a privilege to sleep with Grannie each night, of course I never knew for sure she was there because, if she came to bed it was well after I was asleep and she was up before dawn. The thought that she slept with me offered some facsimile of security.

I discovered the truth about where she slept one night when all hell broke loose. Heavy breathing entered the room. I could hear it but not see it; the room was too dark and heavy clouds blocked the moonlight. At that instant the clouds dissipated and illuminated two large eyes staring right at me. I sat straight up in the bed. Grannie was not there!

I sat gripped with quiet anxiety while I fought off the dragons of fear. The breathing was only feet from me–then a snort. I screamed bloody murder. I could hear Grannie running down the hallway at the same time Bessie, her milk cow, pulled her head up, and bellowed like I’m the one who scared her. She jerked her head back out of that window as fast as she could, tearing out the glass and the wood frame that held it.

Grannie ran down the hall, entered the room and stuck her head out the widow yelling some words that I did not hear. Bessie skedaddled back toward the barn where she belonged. It was the first time I had seen Grannie with no teeth. Flapping her lower jaw against her upper, she turned to calm me down and found me aiming the .22 right at the window. She relaxed me into the reality that she was not there to hurt me. I dropped the gun and climbed under the covers where I burst into tears. Grannie climbed in beside me, wrapped her arms around me and slept the rest the night, or least until I woke up to find her cooking cathead biscuits, scrambled eggs and grits.

Made you smile!

The Determined Race

Google Photo

Google Photo

“An athlete is not crowned unless

he competes according to the rules.”

2 Timothy 2:5

 John was excited about field day at his school. The race was all he and his two best friends could talk about. He was determined to win. A thunder of happy kids stood around the field. Every child’s ambition was the proverbial Blue Ribbon.

Josh was a taller and towered over John. He was favored to win. Jake was shorter than both boys. The pistol fired. As his Dad I wanted John to win. I stood at the finish tape screaming, “Come on John!”

He was running as fast as his eight-year-old legs would go. He crossed the finish line in second place and I hugged his neck. He was so happy! “Did you see that Dad? Me and Josh and Jake were the top three winners!” He didn’t care about being first–only that he had finished the race. He stood in line to receive his red ribbon with a smile of grandeur and the three of them poked each other in fun. I was so proud.

On the way home he talked about the race. “I have figured it out, Dad.”

“What?” I asked.

“Josh is taller with longer legs. I am in the middle with middle legs. Jake has short legs. So, that means that who ever has the shortest legs will always win because they don’t have to step as far while they are running.”

What a great theory from a child. He finished with the prize he believed he deserved for his effort.

Paul said,

“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.

Henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness,

Which the Lord, the righteous judge, will award to me on that Day,

And not only to me but also to all who have loved his appearing.”

2 Timothy 4:7-8

So now I ask you, as a child of God, are you even in the race anymore? Peter was. He drew closer to Him as he walked three years with Jesus. He left his boat when he was called. Jesus asked Peter who He was. Peter replied, “Thou art the Christ, the Son of the living God.” Peter was with Jesus on the Mount of Transfiguration; he heard the voice of God. Jesus called him the Rock upon which He would build His church. Peter knew Jesus. He desired to know Him more and draw close to Him.

Why then do we later see Peter following Jesus at a distance (MT. 26:58)? There had been a gradual, subtle increase in his pride and self-confidence (26:33). He became reckless (vs. 40). He began to act without thinking (Luke 22:51). Peter was ready to go to prison and to die for Christ, or so he said (Luke 22:33).

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Google Photo

Jesus was arrested. Peter followed at a distance. He denied Christ, three times. The cock crowed. Peter wept bitterly (Mt 26:54-62).

Does this sound familiar, maybe in your own life? Were you once so close to Jesus you were inseparable? Did you become over-confident? Did you deny Christ? Did someone say something about you and your left? Do you feel horrible at what you have done with Jesus? Do you feel like you cannot be forgiven? Are you now following Him at a distance? Have you done like Peter and just gone fishing?

Though Peter denied Christ he sought forgiveness and drew nigh to the Lord. He got right back in the race. He took his stand with the eleven and began to preach the Gospel. Three thousand souls were added to the Church. He healed the sick and lame. He was determined to put the past behind him and run the race.

He had made a mistake. He did not give up on what he knew and loved. Just as he had told Jesus he would do, he went to prison and eventually died for Him. The point is this. You cannot follow from a distance while waiting to see the outcome, and expect to win the race God has given you.

You need to get back in the race today. Be determined. He is waiting to forgive you and to bless you in your life and ministry. He knows the plans He has for you.

 “For I know the plans I have for you,” ‘declares the Lord,’ “plans to prosper

And not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”

Jeremiah 29:11

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Google Photo

 

 

Everlasting Cronies

I am excited to introduce you to my debut novel, EVERLASTING CRONIES. I have collected not only my own stories but those of others since I was a child. I just love stories.  My new book is a compilation of many of these stories into one. I hope you enjoy it! Available now on Amazon and Kindle Direct.

Book 2 - Front-CoverPreview.do_edited-1

In EVERLASTING CRONIES you will enjoy a heart-warming, coming of age story about a trio of racially diverse boys who experience joy, loss, conflict, and redemption during the rural Louisiana summer of 1949. There is beauty, romance, and the racial animosity of the Deep South during that pivotal period. Ample local color, the ghost of the old mule jail, a snake dance, and a traditional Southern funeral, punctuate the drama that teaches the boys profitable life-lessons about faith, trust, loyalty and betrayal. This one unforgettable summer moves this threesome to the cusp of manhood and cements an enduring friendship.

Kindle link:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref= nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias% 3Daps&field-keywords= Everlasting%20cronies%20on% 20kindle

Hard Copy Link:
http://www.amazon.com/s/ref= nb_sb_noss?url=search-alias% 3Dstripbooks&field-keywords= everlasting+cronies

Careful- R-U-B-N next novel1231

PATIENCE WILL BRING REWARD

Google Photos

Google Photos

One of my favorite memories is that of my grandfather Charlie feeding the squirrels. The large oaks in his backyard in Baton Rouge provided plenty of acorns, so he decided he would give them a gift one year.

He laid a handful of large southern pecans at the base of the tree closest to the house. He watched and waited from an inside window. He did not see a squirrel come that first day. The next morning the pecans were gone. He did that for several weeks until one day he saw a gray squirrel run down the trunk, pick up a pecan and scurry back up to the first limb.

Charlie continued to offer his free gift and progressed a little at a time with getting to know his squirrel. After a time he was able to sit on the back step and watch the squirrel climb down, sit at the base, and crack the pecan and eat it.

As the months went by, Charlie moved to the picnic table and sat on the bench. From here he decided to knock on the tree with a pecan, lay the little gift on the ground, step back about 10 feet and see what would happen. Surely the squirrel knew it was safe by now. He was cautious and moved ever so slowly toward the base; unsure of what Charlie was doing. When he reached the bottom of the trunk; he picked up the pecan and cracked it open without darting back up into the limbs. A smile of confidence grew on Charlie’s face.

Many months continued to pass and Charlie persistently knocked a pecan against the tree, laid it on the ground, and stepped backward, remaining a little closer each time. The Squirrel became more comfortable with Charlie and his presentation, so after a year of getting to know each other Charlie squatted down and held a pecan in the palm of his hand. The squirrel was frightened to take something that was free from his hand, so Charlie laid it on the ground and stepped back. The squirrel ran and grabbed the pecan and scampered up the tree. It felt safe taking pecans from the ground, but from Charlie’s hand there was uncertainty.

Google Photos

Google Photos

Charlie continued holding his hand out and the squirrel continued to resist. Approaching two years, he took his time every afternoon and asked the squirrel to accept the gift in his hand. One day it happened. The little gray squirrel took the pecan. Charlie sat still and did not remove his hand. The squirrel sat next to him and cracked the pecan. The weeks passed and another squirrel hung upside down on the trunk inquisitive as to what this free gift was all about. Several squirrels began to show and found that the only requirement was simply to accept the gift.

Christmas Wreath with Red Bow

I thought about this story the other day and decided to share it this Christmas with my friends. Sunday, the pastor asked for a show of hands from all those who had shared the gospel with someone that week. One or two hands went up, and one even gave a testimony. Sadly, mine was not one of them. I have been bothered all week by that event. My hand should have been up and so should everyone else’s. The early church would have had their hands up. There would have been no teaching that Sunday because everyone had a testimony to share.

 “…there has been born FOR YOU a SAVIOR who is CHRIST THE LORD.”

Luke 2:11 (NAS)

*****

 “Thanks be unto God for his unspeakable gift.”

2 Corinthians 9:15 (KJV)

 We are not the early church anymore, but we do have the same free gift and we should be just as excited to share as they were over two thousand years ago. It is important to understand that the Father handed us the free gift of salvation in His Son, Jesus Christ. All we have to do is accept Him. It is also through His Son that we are given the free gifts of grace and faith. Again, all we have to do is accept them.

Why are we not sharing our gift with those who do not know Christ? Like the squirrel, they are cautious and apprehensive, but with patience and perseverance we will bring them to the Gift as well. Kind, loving, and patient persistence is, should be our virtue.

 “… the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

Romans 6:23 (NAS)

 If we believe in our heart that Jesus is Lord, it will come out of our mouth. We can’t contain it. Do you love the Lord? When is the last time you shared the gospel? Will you introduce someone to Jesus this season? He is both the Gift, and the one offering His hand if they are willing. His Gift is not only free, but it is one of sacrifice, so that you and others may have everlasting life. Why not introduce someone to the Gift while we celebrate the birth of our Savior this Christmas.

 “For God so loved the world that He gave us His only begotten Son,

so that we may have everlasting life.”

John 3:16

Google Photos

Google Photos

Labor Day Memoir

So Labor Day 2014 is here and I am trying to remember a time long ago that was significant about this day. Oh, I know the first Monday in September “constitutes a yearly national tribute to the contributions workers have made to the strength, prosperity, and well-being” of our great county. I’m looking for something a little bit more charming than that boring sentence. You know, like a parade or a band performance in the town square. Maybe there is a huge family reunion where unforgettable tales, are told and the new generation is fortunate to hear them for the first time. I don’t know. There are so many different ways to celebrate this day you’d feel like you were caught between a dog and a fire hydrant if I were to tell you all of them. So, let me just shorten this list by telling you one that is dear to my heart.

I have searched the web. I have asked everyone I know and cannot get the answers I am looking for. No one else can remember this day. I try with diligence to summon up these recollections so that I can convey them to you as unforgettable…for me anyway.

My family was one of musical inclinations. Somewhere along the line I got left out except for thoroughly enjoying the melodious sounds made by others. I guess that is why this memoir is so important to me. So here I am conjuring up this tale, not a big tale now mind you, but since I cannot remember all of the details of my story I reckon it does account for what I remember.

Overlooking a small lake and surrounded by majestic live oaks stands one of Baton Rouge’s most prized possessions. A stately mansion stands to prove the glory of the great state of Louisiana. She is beaut, for sure. She struts her Doric white columns with a great southern pride and like many of the plantations of the South she is built with magnificence and attitude. It is from here I appeal to my memory and petition this one recollection of the past to come forward.

“A standing joke in many of Louisiana’s small, country churches goes,

“Well, there are two things we know how to do around here, worship and eat!”

Put the two together and you’ve got the country church tradition of all-day singing and dinner on the ground.”
louisianafolklife.org

Dinner-on-the-Grounds-plate

Dinner on the grounds is a long-standing tradition in the South and is usually done after church on Sundays. This was a special occasion for a special holiday. Our arrival at the governor’s mansion was early. We knew it was going to be a long day. The heat was relentless but we knew it would be worth all the sweat, the bees and the flies to get one little morsel of that so delicious southern cooking. There were people from all over the state and I think a few strangers from the North snuck in too. But that’s ok, it was time for them discover they have never really eaten right anyway.

Every family brought a dish of some kind. Tables were set with various meats including wild game and fried chicken just bustin’ with goodness. A variety of vegetables grown in large and small family gardens soaking in potluck laid out end to end. Another table severed up corn bread butter-shined so bright you could almost see yourself smile when you bent over to take a long whiff. My favorite was of course the dessert table. Cakes were OK but pie, now that is a boy’s aspiration, especially when it came to the chocolate one. Oh, and there was always more than one. Yes indeedy.

One of the things about a gathering of this sort was that it was not just the food. No sir. It was about so much more. Boys and girls spent the day playing games on the six-acre mansions land. Some went fishin’ in the lake. Most folks enjoyed the fellowship of friends and family and even new acquaintances.

“All-day singing and dinner on the ground, sometimes simply called fellowship, is a chance for a church to come together as a family, to fellowship, to visit, to swap recipes, to sing, to pray, and to eat.” louisianafolklife.org

dinner on the grounds-M

However, second only to the food was something really special. Groups from all over Louisiana came to sing. There were even some from other states who joined in this special day. I loved to watch my family most of all. You know, the ones, unlike me, that could actually sing and play instruments. My Uncle Edgar was always one to watch. His bald-headed little self was quite the show. He played his box guitar and sang with his brothers and sisters, one of which was the states Commissioner of Agriculture. He wore a harmonica holder around his neck and played that along with his guitar on some songs. He could surely lay out a whiny conglomeration of notes that folks just loved to hear.

Other groups displayed fancy guitars, mandolins and fiddles. There were so many different instruments that as a child I was mesmerized. I loved the banjo pickin’; I promised myself I would learn to play that someday. Well, someday never has shown up. Combined with great piano playing, accordions and even a diddly-bow, there was music so wonderful I believe old Gabriel was blowing his horn along side the Father and Son while they were dancin’ with the saints. Now, put all of these instruments together with some great country gospel nasal, some good food and fellowship and all I can say is good gracious alive, heaven was on the grounds.

Like all memorable days this one had to come to and end. I have to admit it was an enjoyable day. I lay in the back window of the old Chevy, allowing the hot wind to blow through open windows, staring toward the mansion. When I enjoyed something I would watch it until it was out of site. I wish I could remember more about this day, but this will have to do.

As I look back on it now. Singing in those days was more like what God put in His Word ~ Make a joyful noise unto the Lord. I guess I was the only one struck by the profound significance it would have on my life. I am thankful for this memoir however, and will pass it on to those who follow.

LABOR-DAY-BANNER- 3X4-2___

” OLD MAN”

This poem touched me. I am writing my memoirs and so often remember my younger years. Yet now I am older and still dream of happiness and times of joy and peace and respect for me as an old man. I hope you enjoy this reblog. Blessings!

keithgarrettpoetry

“Old Man” by Keith Garrett
Who he was did not matter to me as each day i passed his way,
On a porch swing or rocking chair he would read or listen to the world.
I gave him a smile in which he replied with a smirk from his face,
Who are you whom sits in the morning sun thinking thoughts never done.?
I am a man but once a child running from sunrise till dusk, i am a man,
I’ve seen the years and have done many things in my time, once full of energy.
‘Old man’ on your porch is sitting there all that you do, tell me your story,
Are you waiting to die as each day you grow weary from nothing at all.
You are much younger than i as there was a day when i too looked like you,
What makes you think that i…

View original post 200 more words

A Letter To My Best Friend ~

In March I was privileged to see my old friend Mo and his wife Nancy. We had a great time telling old stories and laughing our heads off at the crazy and ridiculous things we had done in our men made of steel years. While driving back to Mississippi I thought of another. I wrote a letter to Mo imploring one more laugh. I want to take a moment to share that with you now.

♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥♥

Andy & Mo

Andy & Mo

Hey My Friend!

I am sorry I have tarried in sending you this story Mo, please forgive? It’s a short story; nonetheless it is one of those we have forgotten until something in the present triggers this old pea brain into action. Let me see if I can jar your memory a little.

The war in Viet Nam had ended and I had just returned home from the Air Force base in Minot, ND. You invited me to go hunting on the land of a farmer you knew there around Anderson. We trucked through the woods and really enjoyed seeing ABSOLUTELY nothing to hunt. It was the friendship and fellowship that was most important. With the exception of a few black birds, or sparrows or something of the like, there was really no wildlife around anywhere. I do remember we found a playground of sorts that someone had built for kids and teenagers to play on. That was pretty cool too. As I recall you said the farmer built it for his grandchildren.

As we continued to walk through the woods, running our mouths and having a good time, we came upon a tree with the prettiest nuts growing on it. They were all over the tree and the ground. Neither of us had ever seen a nut like this so we began to pick them up and study them. You decided that because it was so dad-gummed pretty it had to be edible. First you tried to break one open by crushing two nuts against each other in your hands. That didn’t work so you put one in your mouth and began trying to crack it open with your teeth. About the same time you successfully heard a crack our good lord sent you and me an angel of protection from our own ignorant stupidity.
Out of nowhere came a voice.

“What are you boys doing on my land?”

“Hunting,” I said.

“Who gave you permission to hunt on my land?

Then, rolling the nut to one side of your mouth, you gave a reply explaining that you received permission from your farmer friend.
This farmer now assured us that we had crossed on to his land. Because the fence was down we hadn’t see the property line and he asked us politely to leave. We agreed.

Before we did however you asked, with a mouth full of nut particles, “Do you know what kind of nuts these are?”

Buckeye Tree Nut Seed

Buckeye Tree Nut Seed

The farmers horizontal grin widened almost vertically. I will never forget the look on your face when he said, “That’s a Buckeye, and it’s poisonous enough to kill a bull.”

With a look of terror you began to spit Buckeye all over me and the farmer, the ground, and anything else that got in the way of you casting out Buckeye like an unwanted demon. The farmer and I laughed our heads off.

It is a fond memory and one I was reminded of a Dick’s house (my lil’ brother) when I saw a buckeye tree with prettiest little nuts on it and lying all over the ground!
You can preach this Mo! The moral is simple. We must be careful to take care of our bodies, by knowing that what we put in our mouth is not poisonous. Too, we must be careful of what we place in our hearts and our minds. Just because it is pretty does not mean it is good for us. We must be watchful that it provides life and not a slow poisonous eternal death.

Love ya Bro, Thanks for a great day of eating and wonderful fellowship with you and Nancy. I hope we don’t wait another 34 years before we meet again. If we do, be sure to bring your hearing aids and jet propelled wheel chair–we’ll race through those woods of yours!

You friend and brother,
Andy

Mo & Nancy

Mo & Nancy