Friday, March 30, 2007

Buckeyes = Bucks


I have suddenly become an Ohio State basketball fan.
Go Buckeyes!
I don’t think I have ever rooted for Ohio State in anything. But, this weekend, I hope the Buckeyes make more Bucket-eyes than the teams they're playing.
No, I don’t have Ohio State to win it all in the NCAA office pool. I’m so far out of it now I don’t have a prayer.
But somebody close to me does. Since I can't win, I'm pulling for him.
If Ohio State wins the NCAA title, my youngest son Jake will be a semi-rich man. He should finish first in the office pool. At the very least, he’ll be in the money.
At the start of the NCAA tournament two weeks ago, I wrote a blog called “A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.’’
Sometimes the people who are the least familiar with the subject – in this case, college basketball -- sometimes do the best.
The daughter of a co-worker once won the pool by picking teams based on the ferociousness of their nickname.
Jake is another classic example. When I gave him a bracket sheet, I had to explain how it worked, how the teams were seeded and the laws of probability.
“A No. 1 seed is usually going to beat a No. 16 seed,’’ I told him. "That’s just the way it works. But a No. 8 vs. No. 9 is roll-the-dice time. And there always are a few No. 3, 4 and 5 seeds who somehow manage to get upset along the way. A few Cinderellas usually come out of the pack. So don't just play by the numbers.''
He nodded that he understood, but I really had my doubts that he did. He took the bracket sheet and filled out the whole thing in five minutes.
No hair pulling. No pondering. No flipped coins or the biting of fingernails.
Five minutes. Five minutes? He hasn't watched five minutes of basketball all season.
But, after the first weekend, he was in first place.
After the second weekend, he was still in first place.
And, if Ohio State wins, he will be rolling in the dough.
Bucks from the Buckeyes.
Yep, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Thursday, March 29, 2007

Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah slept here



It seems every time Disney does something, there is some group out there criticizing it.

So it really should come as no surprise that the recent decision to “consider” re-releasing the classic “Song of the South” is causing some controversy. There are those who contend it is racist in its depiction of Southern plantation blacks.

Gimme a break.

The animated film was made in 1946. That was 60 years ago – different times – and it is looking back at a period of time even further back than that.

Still, it’s 2007, and some folks are demanding we apologize for slavery. Most of us moved past all this a long time ago. Not proud of it, but certainly not trying to re-write history, either.
Why is it all being stirred up? And why is it some people are never satisfied unless they are stirring something up?

But that’s not the purpose of today’s “Give Us Thy Daily Gris.’’

I’ve been whistling and humming Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah for the past several days. Can’t seem to get it out of my head.

I have come across a local connection to the making of the Disney movie, but you’ll have to wait until Friday’s column in the Telegraph to read about that.

In the meantime, let’s string together the Middle Georgia thread of Joel Chandler Harris, the man whose tales of Uncle Remus provided the inspiration for “Song of the South.’’

Of course, Harris was born in Eatonton and worked as a typesetter for both The Macon Telegraph and The Monroe Advertiser in Forsyth.

A few weeks ago, I visited the Monroe County History Society, which has a neat little museum at the train depot near the former site of Tift College.

There, they have the typesetter table that Harris used at the Advertiser and a brief history of Harris as an apprentice newspaperman in Forsyth.

Here is what it says:

Before writing his Uncle Remus tales, Joel Chandler Harris served as an apprentice typesetter at The Monroe Advertiser between 1868 and 1870. Although he spent only three short years in Forsyth, those years had a profound effect on him, as his personal letters reveal.

After moving from Forsyth to Savannah to work for a larger newspaper, Harris wrote: “My history is a peculiarly sad and unfortunate one – and the three years in Forsyth are the very brightest of my life.’’ He went on to say that he had never really known what a friend was until he came to Forsyth. He called his sojourn in that town “…a precious memorial of what would otherwise be as bleak and desolate as winter.’’

Below is a photograph I took of the typesetter’s table he used at the Advertiser.

.

Wednesday, March 28, 2007

Long odds at the library

I stopped by the Washington Memorial Library after lunch Tuesday. I had been to Sid’s for soup and a sandwich. And, since Sid’s is named after poet Sidney Lanier, I was feeling quite literary. So it was off to the library.

At the checkout desk, I asked the lady how many books there were in the three-story library. She said she had known the figure at one time, but she would be afraid to guess at the number now.


I wanted to know how many books were on those shelves because I wanted to know what the odds were for something that had just happened to me.


I had been on the second floor browsing through the new non-fiction titles. I spotted a biography that interested me and read a few pages.


It was well-written and enlightening. I told myself I would check out the book. I left it on the shelf, figuring nobody was going to come along in the next 15 minutes and get that book. After all, there weren’t a dozen people on the entire second floor.


I sat down to browse through another book, then chatted for a few minutes with one of the staff members at the library.


When it was time to leave, I walked over to the display shelf for the biography.


Suddenly, a man appeared out of nowhere, stepped in front of me and reached for the book. The same book!!!


I was a little stunned. What were the odds of that happening?


I have no idea. I’m still trying to figure it out. I don't much about probability but it seems very strange.


After writing about the “man in the rear-view mirror” on Monday, I followed up with the “man in the stacks at the library” on Tuesday.


Am I living in Bizarro World?

Makes me curious about what might happen today.

Tuesday, March 27, 2007

The man in the rear-view mirror

I was making a left turn from Riverside Drive onto College Street Monday afternoon. Dozens of cars were coming from the other direction, so I had to wait for them to pass.

Most of them were going at least 45-50 mph. They kept coming around a sharp curve. There was a distance of about 100 feet beween the next-to-the-last and last car, so there was the shortest of breaks in the action. But it was my judgment that there wasn't enough time to try to turn between them.

Apparently, the driver behind me didn’t feel the same way. He started honking his horn. I don’t read lips, but I’m pretty sure he wasn’t reciting scripture.

I don’t prefer being broadsided by a speeding vehicle on a Monday afternoon. That’s why I didn’t risk it.

It was not a good day to die, and I certainly didn’t want to take everyone in the other vehicle with me.

I’m rather proud to say that I usually react well in these situations. I'm calm, cool and collected. I don’t yell obscenities out the window. I don’t exercise my middle figure. There is no confrontation.

After I made my turn, this guy tailed me all the way up College Street before turning onto Georgia Avenue down to Hardeman. He wasn’t’ driving a Model A, but he definitely had a Type A personality.

I also figured his blood pressure is probably 320/210.

I figured he was in a bad mood because he had Duke winning it all in the NCAA office pool.

I figured he was having a bad hair day.

Or he was not too fond of it being a Monday, the most rotten of days.

Or his allergies were bothering him.

But I’m saving the funniest part for last. When he pulled even with me at the stop light, I looked over.

I knew the guy!!! Known him for years. He came by my office and bought a book for his mother a few months ago.

He had no idea it was me.

Should I tell him about this the next time I see him?

Monday, March 26, 2007

End of the blossom trail


Thanks to Cherry Blogger Stephanie for taking this photo and posting it in her Saturday slideshow
I would like to thank everyone who stopped by my booth at the Mulberry Street Arts & Crafts Festival. It was great to see everybody and to make some new friends.
Saturday was a very busy day. The crowds were unbelievable, elbow to elbow at times.
Sunday was a little slower, but there were other events going on. And it was so blessed hot. The sign on a nearby bank read 94 degrees. It may not have been that hot, but it was very warm. Maybe a new festival record. I'll have to check on that.
The blooms came out in mass over the last weekend, validating my longtime theory that there is no prettier place on earth than Macon in the springtime.

I visit with the Bogue family from Warner Robins on Saturday

Friday, March 23, 2007

Planning those blossoms



Who said anything about there not being many blossoms for the festival this year?

Just look at the photograph, which was taken Thursday at Central City Park.

I have on my "blossom" tie. I've been showing it to folks all week.

And that's the famous "Miss Blossom,'' also known as Florence Wood.

Today is March 23. It's the birthday of Mr. William Fickling Sr., who died in 1986. But we celebrate his birthday every Cherry Blossom Festival with a cake in Third Street Park at lunchtime.

This is the 25th festival, the silver anniversary, and it was always started to coincide with Mr. Fickling's birthday. It started out as a weekend event. Now it's a 10-day festival that always includes two weekends. That's why this year's festival began a week ago today.

But given the continued stubborness of the cherry trees, perhaps it would have been better to have started this year's festival today. I realize you can't predict such things, and Mother Nature is very unpredictable.

But even if the blossoms had come out early, wouldn't it be better for the trees to have already bloomed and at least have leaves on them to look like dead, bare trees all week?

Timing is everything.

Just a thought.

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Next best thing to being there


Delinda took this photo in the Fickling driveway on Ingleside Avenue Wednesday morning.

If you haven’t been able to make one of the Cherry Blossom bus tours, you can do the next best thing.

You can
take a video tour our online journalist Liz Fabian did of one of my tours this week. It was a tour group from Fort Payne, Ala., on Tuesday afternoon.

I gave a tour to a sweet group from Weaverville, N.C., on Wednesday morning. It was some of the same group I had last year, and they requested me again.


Many of them said two or three hours is not enough time to see all the beautiful places in Macon, so next year than plan to come and stay a few days.


I told them Macon was named for Nathaniel Macon, the statesman from North Carolina, and of course they all knew who he was.


This morning will be my last tour of the festival. I have a speaking engagement on Friday with a hostel group being sponsored by Georgia College & State University. These folks have come here from all over the country.


I have a booth to sell my books and CD at the Mulberry Street Arts & Crafts festival this weekend. Come by and see us.


I wish we had more blossoms out this week. I’ve never seen them so stubborn. Next week is going to be gorgeous.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

A personality responsibility


I ran into a high-ranking local official in the Third Street Park after lunch on Tuesday. She had some out-of-town guests with her and, of course, she was talking about the blossoms.
Or the lack of them.
“People in Macon feel personally responsible when the trees don’t bloom for the festival,’’ she said.
She’s right. We do feel a bit guilty. We have all these people coming from all over, and we want to strut our stuff. But it’s just not all there. Not yet, anyway.
It’s kind of like a painting without all the colors.
It’s kind of like a concert without all the chorus.
Anyway, I’ve been trying to put the best face on the bus tours I’ve been giving all week. But it’s tough without full cooperation from the cherry trees.
I did get a nice note from reader Randall Murphy, of Macon. He included three photographs of the full-blooming trees from a past festival.
“Just in case you have to conduct a tour of bare cherry trees, I’m enclosing a couple of pictures you can show your guests to prove they do bloom and how beautiful they are when they do.’’
Thanks, Randall, and happy first day of spring to you.
A picture is worth a thousand blooms.

Tuesday, March 20, 2007

Pink Dawg and some new friends


Owner Paul Williams and Lacie were at Central City Park on
Monday afternoon.

If you’re rubbing your eyes this week because everything appears to be pink, it’s no optical illusion.

Yes, those pancakes are pink. So is that trash can. And those are pink bubbles coming out of the car wash.

Pink poodle? If you’ve been anywhere near Third Street or Central City parks this week, chances are you’ve seen Lacie.

I ran into Lacie outside the Long Building at Central City Park Monday afternoon. She was getting a lot of attention. A tour bus group from a church in Alabama was having a few Kodak moments with her. She seemed to enjoy all the attention.

I saw Lacie last year but had only gotten close enough to take a few pictures.

Five years ago, I did a column on Casper, the dog Paul and Alice Williams had prior to Lacie.

Casper died two years ago, and now Lacie has taken over the festival duties.

Lacie is a sweet dog, and is very gentle around children. Big people, too.

The face of the festival is often a dog.

And Lacie is quite the ambassador.

Also on Monday I happened upon a group of students touring the Woodruff House on top of Coleman Hill. They were from Central Georgia Tech and were in the "English as a Second Language" class. In other words, they didn't speak much English.

But one of the instructors recognized me, and explained to her students who I was. I also told them a little about myself and what I do for a living. They wanted to have their photograph taken with me. I told them I would post the group photo at the web site, so here it is. That's me somewhere in the middle.

Monday, March 19, 2007

Driving, dribbling, dancing and a nap


Son Jake cuts the rug Sunday afternoon at Idle Hour
Not much cherry blossoming for me this past weekend. I figured I will get my fill of that over the next seven days, so I needed to pace myself.
I didn’t even go to the pink pancake breakfast at Central City Park. It’s the first time I’ve missed that in a few years. And, as I blogged last Friday, we have stopped going to the balloon glow ever since they moved it from Wesleyan.
I was all over the map on Saturday. I took my mother down to Georgia Veterans State Park in Cordele. It was her cousin, Perry Mobley’s 80th birthday, so it was pretty much like a family reunion down there. They cooked a pig all night, and there was some good eatin’.
There was so much traffic on I-75, and it was so intense, that we took U.S. 41 most of the way. It was a delightful drive.

There wasn’t much time to catch my breath when I got back to Macon. I had been asked to speak Saturday night at the 35th reunion of the great Taylor County girls basketball teams of the late 1960s and early 1970s.
Those teams won 132 straight games between 1967-72, which is still a state record and ranks fourth nationally. I think it ranks among the greatest feats in high school sports in our state’s history.
A huge crowd of about 180 attended the banquet at Taylor County Elementary in Butler. Delinda went with me. It was a very inspiring evening.
There was a great tribute paid to Coach Norman Carter, who also served as principal and school superintendent. He and his wife, Jane, operate “The Golden Rule” a home for women recovering from alcohol and substance abuse.
He is one of my heroes, and I pledge to do everything it takes to get him in the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame. It’s hard to believe he is not in there already. If you want to read more about the incredible run by the Taylor County girls, click on this link.
I taught Sunday School at First Baptist on Sunday morning. I did "The Andy Griffith Show" series, with my favorite episode, “Man in a Hurry.’’ We all could learn a lot from this episode. We need to slow down our lives. Also, Sunday is supposed to be a day of rest. It’s not supposed to be just like any other day of the week.
So I did rest Sunday afternoon. I was a pooped puppy. I took a 45-minute nap. I think it was my first nap since 1988. Delinda took Jake to the graduation for Susan Rodgers’ cotillion class at Idle Hour. Jake has been a student instructor for her this year.
Now it's Monday morning. Time to put on the pink tie.


Friday, March 16, 2007

Bring glow-ry days back to Wesleyan


I took this photo of the balloon glow at Wesleyan in March 2001

The Cherry Blossom Festival is a bit like Ivory soap.
99.44 percent pure.
Yep, it’s about as close to perfect as a festival can get. It’s well-planned, well-organized and well-orchestrated. There are more than 500 events at the annual 10-day festival, and more than 90 percent of them are free. There’s something for everyone.
So you won’t find me hanging out at the complaint box very often or for very long. I can’t find much fault with the festival.
Except for the balloon glow.
I would love to see it return to the campus at Wesleyan College.
I know it won’t ever happen. I’ve asked Cherry Blossom officials about it until I am pink in the face.
Four years ago, heavy rains on opening day forced the event – one of the festival’s most popular – to make a quick move from the Wesleyan campus to the Herbert Smart Airport in East Macon.
What a nightmare! The traffic was heavy. The “glow” was a disappointment. Little did we realize it would never return to Wesleyan.
I vowed to never go back.
And I haven’t.
It was so much more of a community event when it was at the college. I loved the tradition of going. It was exciting. And we would always get up with the sun the next morning and go watch the balloons take off.
I was told there were logistic, safety and liability issues at the more urban setting, along Foryth Road. The balloonists would rather stake out to the wide open spaces at the airport.
But, when they left, they took something with them. And it's no longer a free event, either. It costs $5 to get in the gate (children under 12 free).
Wish we could get it back at Wesleyan.
For old times sake.

Thursday, March 15, 2007

Blossom bouncing on a Thursday



I gave a mini-tour to a dozen students from Boston University on Wednesday afternoon. They have been in town all week working on repairing houses for Rebuilding Together.
Before we left on the trolley from the brand spanking new Macon-Bibb County Convention and Visitors Bureau, we saw the 12-minute video about Macon.
I suggest everyone march down there and view that short movie. If that doesn’t make you proud to live in Macon, I don’t know what will.
We took them on a loop up Cherry Street, across to Poplar and up on High Street, over to College and Bond Street atop Coleman Hill, then down Mulberry and back over the the CVB.
These young people thanked me for the tour, but not before I thanked them. I thanked them for giving up their spring break to come to Macon, Ga., to help repair houses for needy families.
That, to me, says a lot about them as people.
So I thanked them. We should all thank them.
* * *
I attended the Cherry Blossom Volunteer Appreciation Luncheon at the City Auditorium. Even though there were hundreds of folks there, the crowd was less than I’ve seen in a number of years.
Maybe its because the program always tends to drag on for almost two hours, despite efforts to streamline it.
Here’s my suggestion: Cut ALL the speeches from the public officials -- nobody wants to hear them anyway -- and focus on the volunteers. We’re there to honor them.
* * *
One of my favorite people I have met this week is Ruby Busbee of Houston Heights Baptist Church.
Miss Ruby is amazing. She had done all the decorating for a seniors luncheon at the church.
Even more amazing is that she is 92 years old with no signs of slowing down.



Wednesday, March 14, 2007

A little knowledge is a dangerous thing



A friend of mine once gave me some excellent advice.
A little knowledge is a dangerous thing.
My friend was saying sometimes you know so much about a subject it will work against you. You over-think. You over-analyze.
I’ve always felt that was about the NCAA Basketball Tournament, better known as this affliction known as March Madness.

It consumes us as we head from winter to spring, making the conversion from basketball to baseball, bare trees to blossoms.

To me, it’s always been one of the great events in all of sports – three weeks of the biggest free-for-all in sports.

I especially like those first two frantic-filled days – Thursday and Friday of this week – when the pairings are parings. The field goes from 64 to 32, then melts to 16 by sundown on Sunday.

And the NCAA office pool is a traditional rite of spring. At our place, it only cost $5 to jump in and give it a chance. It’s one of the few times I put down any money on a sporting event. And it’s not really betting. The NCAA basketball bracket is truly a game of chance.

It seems sometimes those who know the least around our office do the best. It goes back to the “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing” theory.

Remember the Nebraska man last year who picked George Mason to be in the Final Four?
George Mason? An unknown, unheralded team and the first No. 11 seed to reach the Final Four in 20 years?

"I got them confused with George Washington," said Russell Pleasant, of Bellevue, Neb.

Anything goes.

In fact, everything goes.

“But I don’t know that much about all the teams,’’ one of my sons admitted as I encouraged him to fill out his bracket and join the fun.

“Doesn’t really matter,’’ I said.

No, don't fall for Niagara. Don't bet the house on tiny tots Winthrop, Davidson or Central Connecticut State.

But you should always expect the unexpected.

And, remember, a little knowledge is a dangerous thing.

Tuesday, March 13, 2007

A remarkable life


When I am speaking to church groups, I often ask for a show of hands.
“How many of you,’’ I ask, “have read the Bible from cover to cover?”
A few usually raise their hands. There are times when nobody does.
Unless you are a seminary student, a preacher or a missionary, it’s difficult to count yourself among those who have done a complete read of the King James version from Genesis to Revelation. That’s a total of 807,361 words.
I don’t ask this question to make people feel guilty, although if I wanted to do that, it certainly would work.
It has always been to point out the remarkable feat of Mr. Talmadge Shepard, who was a member of my church – First Baptist of Macon.
When I interviewed him for a column in August 1999 called “The holy word in his hands.’’
This is what I wrote on a Sunday morning:

Talmadge Shepard's fingers have fought the battle of Jericho and met Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane.
He has literally felt every heartfelt word of Psalms. He keeps the verbs of Ecclesiastes and adverbs of Corinthians at his fingertips.
This morning, the churches of Macon will be filled with worshipers who rarely miss a Sunday. They are devout in their faith, frame their lives around the "Good Book" and can quote Scripture from Acts to Zechariah.
I wonder how many of them would admit they never have read the Bible from beginning to end.
Many, like myself, will claim to have pieced together a complete reading over a lifetime. We might have studied enough Scripture in Sunday School and accumulated enough verses from within an earshot of the pulpit to achieve the sum of the parts.
Still, reading the Bible from Genesis 1:1 to Revelations 22:21 remains an unfulfilled challenge.
For that reason, Shepard has taken his rightful place among those on my "most-admired" list. At year's end, he will have completed reading the Bible 21 times.
That, in itself, is amazing.
What makes it even more remarkable is that Talmadge Shepard is blind.

Mr. Shepard died this past Friday. He was 86. He had been in poor health for a number of years. His funeral was Monday at First Baptist.
He was known for more than just his scripture reading. He was a remarkable man.
For 32 years, he ran the concession stand in the lobby of the Bibb County Courthouse. He learned to recognize his customers by the sounds of their voices. He would distinguish their money by its size and shape. He worked five days each week from 6 a.m. to 5 p.m., often walking to the courthouse from his family's house on Spring Street.
While living on Spring Street, he and his sister, Jean Davis, grew up in the shadow of the tall steeple at First Baptist Church at the top of Poplar. They joined the church in 1944.
After he retired from the courthouse concession stand in December 1978, he took on a preacher’s challenge to church members to start the New Year with a resolution: To read the Bible in its entirety.
And he did. Again. And again. And again. His 18 Braille volumes stretched across two bookshelves.
I always counted him among my heroes.

Monday, March 12, 2007

Portrait of an artist as a young man


Butler Brown looks the painting he did for my grandmother in 1968, when he
was just starting out.

Artist Butler Brown had a reunion with one of his earliest paintings Sunday afternoon.

It was sweet. I should know. It belongs to me.

My family has a long history with Butler, going back to Hawkinsville in the 1960s. My late maternal grandparents – Mr and Mrs. W.E. Richards – taught school there from 1948-73.

My grandmother was a second-grade teacher and, in 1968, had Butler’s son, Tony, in her class.
That was the same year Butler was taking an art correspondence course. He called my grandmother one day and asked if he could come take some photographs of a lake at their house. He went over there with his camera.

He then went to work, painting the lake, trees and sky. If you’re familiar with his work, it’s unlike most of his landscapes. The blues and greens are bright and bold.

In the portrait is a little boy fishing at the end of a dock. It is supposed to be Tony, his son, but my mother says it could very well be me. I caught my first fish at that lake. If I close my eyes, I can still feel it tugging on the end of my cane pole.

Butler gave the painting to my grandmother and, before she died, she gave it to me. It always hung over her mantel. It is truly a family treasure.

Of course, eight years after he painted that and others, he became famous when Jimmy Carter hung his paintings at the White House.

I believe he may be the most famous artist the state of Georgia has ever produced. He still has his studio outside of Hawkinsville.

Since I was with Butler most of the weekend at the Forsythia Festival, I promised to bring the painting to show him. I had told him about it many times in the past, but he had not seen it in almost 40 years.

It was a beautiful reunion. Kind of like showing Hemingway the first paragraph he ever wrote.

Friday, March 09, 2007

Blossom countdown


Look!
Up in the sky!
It’s a … blossom!!!!
At 5:17 p.m. on Thursday, I saw my first cherry blossom. It was on the large Yoshino cherry in my mother’s yard. I went by to see her after work, and the first words out of my mouth when I walked in the door were: “You’ve got one blossom on your cherry tree!!!!”
She told me she had been outside earlier in the day and hadn’t seen any. But, sure enough, one solitary blossom had opened up during the warm afternoon.
A few more sunny, 75-degree days and those blooms will start popping.
The festival starts one week from today.
I can’t wait. I’ve said it before. I’ll say it again.
There’s no prettier place on earth than Macon in the springtime.

Thursday, March 08, 2007

Scattershooting on a Thursday

Scattershooting on a Thursday morning.

  • I would like to thank friend Bill Pilcher for providing me with my newest favorite quotation. Bill and I are currently working on getting a film project started. His words of wisdom were from the great Albert Einstein: “Nothing happens unless something moves.’’
  • A southwest Bibb County woman found a red bowling ball in her yard last week. She believes it may have been dropped there by Thursday’s tornadoes. Although her home is several miles from the Sandy Point area in Crawford County, where there was considerable storm damage, she is not ruling out the possibility of one big gutter ball by the twister. Sounds like one of my errant golf shots.
  • I bet Ed Nabors, the truck driver in North Georgia who won $116.5 million in the lottery, now has relatives he didn't know he had. Of course, his name is Ed. So the thought has crossed my mind we might be related. ...
  • I hope our lawmakers vote against Sunday alcohol sales when it is put up for a vote in the senate next week. Can’t folks go one day a week without drinking? It’s a sacred day. Let’s keep it that way. Remember the Sabbath and keep it holy.
  • I’m working on my first -- sniffle, sniffle, cough, cough – cold of the season. So if you run into me somewhere, I won't have to explain why I smell like Vicks Vapo Rub.
  • This certainly won’t make me – or anybody else – feel any better. Gas is back up over $3 a gallon in parts of California and Hawaii.
  • Have they finally buried James Brown and Anna Nicole Smith? Is it safe to come out now?
  • Hope to see you at the Forsythia Festival in Forsyth this week. I’ll be there Saturday and Sunday signing books and CDs at the Monroe County Museum at 126 East Johnston Street. Come by and say hello.

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

My cure for the hiccups

A 15-year old Florida girl made national headlines last week when she was finally cured of the hiccups.

She had been hiccupping 50 times a minute for five weeks. That had to be no fun.

She tried everything from drinking pickle juice to breathing into a paper sack. Nothing seemed to work. She made trips to see medical specialists. She tried hypnosis and acupuncture. Finally, they just stopped on their own.

Now that she has been cured, I wonder if the movie rights can be far behind.

Everyone, it seems, has offered their own remedies for the hiccups.
  • A spoonful of peanut butter
  • Tickling the person
  • Several quick sips of water followed by several long sips.
  • A spoonful of sugar.
  • A dose of balsamic vinegar.
  • Placing a bag of ice next to your diaphram.
  • Bending over and drink from the “back” side of the glass.

I’ve found the sugar usually works for me. Of course, getting a “scare” also does the trick. That's why I have a guaranteed method for scaring me.

It never fails. I look at the photo below.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

The time it is a changing



Daylight Savings Time begins on Saturday, and we were trying to explain the concept to our youngest son at supper Monday night.
Spring forward.
Fall back.
You’ll lose an hour of sleep this weekend, but you’ll get it back after the summer. More specifically, you can sleep late on Nov. 4.
I also tried to explain how simply moving the hands of the clock ahead will make things better.
It will give you more daylight at the end of the day. You’re trading an hour of light in the morning for an hour of light in the evening. It’s a good deal. It allows you to maximize the daylight hours.
It is especially nice in the summer as the days get longer.
We’re getting the extra daylight earlier this year. In the past, the time has traditionally changed on the first Sunday in April. But in 2005, President Bush pushed for the extension of Daylight Savings Time by two months to conserve energy costs.
Of course, they are saying the change could affect your computer settings – kind of a mini-Y2K bug – so be on the watch for that.
Did I just say "watch?" Gee, I'm so clever.

Monday, March 05, 2007

Our little secret recipe

I’m going to let you in on a little secret but you’ve got to not tell anybody.

You have got to promise me you won’t breathe a word of it. It’s top secret. Classified information.

I’m going to give you the recipe for the best Brunswick stew you ever put in your mouth.

It was passed on to me by a man in McRae about five years ago. I don’t think he was supposed to give it to anybody. I don’t think I was supposed to give it to anybody.

But I’ll share it with you.

I’ve been asked many times over the years for the recipe. I always tell people if I gave it to them, I would have to kill them.

I've added a few things to the original recipe. I've also kicked it up a notch with the hot sauce. It gives it a little bite.

Whenever I make a big batch of this stew, as I did for a church social Sunday night, I am the most popular guy at the party. Whenever I take it to the office, I have co-workers bow down at my feet.

I’ve always heard the sign of a good Brunswick stew is sticking a fork in the middle and it not moving. Well, this stew is not like that. It’s more soup than stew.

But it is guaranteed. And it is so simple to make. You won’t believe how easy it is.

Remember now, this is our little secret.

TRUE GRIS BRUNSWICK STEW
(Mix together in large pot)
--1 pound ground beef, browned and drained
--1 pound pork barbecue
--3 boneless chicken breasts
--4 cans sliced tomatoes
--4 cans sliced potatoes
--4 cans whole grain corn
--1 can cream corn
--1 can tomato sauce
--2 cans English peas
--1 can beef broth
--1 bottle ketchup
--3 tablespoons Texas Pete hot sauce

(Simmer well. Makes 20 cups or 10 pints)

Friday, March 02, 2007

March roars in like a lion


Storm forced part of Thomaston Road to close Thursday night
(Photo by Woody Marshall/The Telegraph)

I ate lunch Thursday at the Ryan’s Steakhouse in Warner Robins. I was speaking to the Warner Robins Noonday Optimist Club.

You don’t want to sound like a pessimist when you sit down to break bread with the Optimists, but I told the gentleman next to me about how I now pay attention to severe weather warnings.

No longer do I ignore then. Four and a half years ago, just a few weeks after we moved to south Monroe County, we hardly raised an eyebrow one Sunday afternoon when a tornado watch was issued. It was November, and we had just gotten through watching a football game, for goshsakes. That’s not typical tornado weather.

But within minutes, a tornado had cut a swath through our neighborhood, and I had neighbors who lost dozens of trees. That will get your attention.

I will never forget the sound of that storm as it passed around us. We huddled in a walk-in closet, and you could almost feel it in the atmosphere as it passed over.

I will never forget the strange way the clouds looked. They were low, with a strange color and light. They raced through as if they were in a hurry. The sky was very angry.

And it looked the same way Thursday night.

It reminds us of just how unpredictable the weather can be this time of year.

The first day of March certainly roared in like a lion.

Thursday, March 01, 2007

Butterflies at the doctor's office



I went to the doctor Wednesday morning. It’s never the most comforting place to be.
I don’t know many folks who don’t get nervous at the thought of going to the doctor’s office.
Their minds keep tryin to convince them all these things are wrong with them.
For me, it was just a routine check-up, a follow-up from my annual physical this past August.
I had to make sure all my prescriptions were working, and not causing any side-effects, like strange things growing out of the side of my head.
Before I went, I jotted down a few questions – and a list of new ailments.
Why does that list keep getting longer as you get older?
While I was in the examination room, I overheard one of the physician assistants discussing something as she was reading the morning paper.
She saw the headline “Antioxidant vitamins may add to death risk” on the front page.
“Get ready,’’ she said. “We’re going to get a lot of calls today.’’
I did have some bloodwork done, so I’ll be anxiously awaiting the results of that. Otherwise, everything else seems to be OK. The aches and pains appear to just be normal aches and pains.