NOTE: Happy Father’s Day! This post is about hardworking men with dirty fingernails because it is Father’s Day, but we love and appreciate hard working women too!
I have an old grubby cap they I usually wear when I’m working outside. It has never been washed and probably never will be. At this point it has its own history. It was promotional cap from a business, so I got it for free. The ole cap is well broke in about like me. There are some frayed threads, stains, and the dark color has faded from the sun and rain. When I eventually throw it away, I will revisit a few memories.
Continue reading “For the Men in Grubby Ole Caps”
I remember when I was a boy looking at old men in wonderment. They were either my grandfather or someone else’s grandfather. I knew my granddaddy was once a farmer and he still dabbled with farming. He helped my Daddy with a few things, had a garden, and sometimes had a little patch of corn. He got a few dollars every month from the plan put in place by FDR.
Continue reading “Old Men”
I usually sit toward the front of the church. For many decades I pastored local congregations and of course, I sat in the front. As a pastor, I preferred to sit on a front pew rather than on one of those “throne” chairs on stage. I rarely sat in the back.
This past Sunday, my wife and I sat in the back because we had to slip out quickly at the end of the service to attend a family function. I wasn’t used to looking at the back of people’s heads. It was a different perspective.
Continue reading “Our Little World”
“Virtue signaling” is a catchphrase in the current cultural confusion. In the last few years, it has been exhausting to keep up with the new terms and re-definitions. I often wonder if some folks even know what they are saying or if they are just parroting the latest mantra from their side of the fence. By the way, virtue signaling is not a right or left problem, it is a human problem.
Continue reading “Head-Nodders”
We were at a reunion gathering of our extended family when a distant cousin excitedly called his wife over to see my dad’s hands. He was amazed that Daddy’s hands looked like his deceased father’s hands. I looked at my hands and they looked like Dad’s. Two of my brother’s hands are also similar.
Continue reading “Hands of My Father”
Some folks just don’t know how to be happy! They chase a dream that is just beyond their grasp and are blind to the blessings in their hand.
Continue reading “Simple Pleasures”
I was raised in a working-class family who had risen out of Depression Era poverty. Most of our neighbors were either poor or slowly rising to middle-class status. Our exposure to rich people was rare.
Continue reading “Work With Your Own Hands”
My daddy was born in 1914 in the ridges of Northeast Alabama. He was deserted by his father when he was a school-age boy and “raised” by his single mother in the midst of the Great Depression. He was raised dirt-poor.
Continue reading “Daddy Bought a Nissan”
Our collective great-aunt, Governor Kay Ivey of Alabama just had a press conference with a “Stay-At-Home” order. Don’t you just love Aunt Kay with her South Alabama drawl; all our Southern politicians of old talked like this once upon a time, it was a requirement. I really like her, I really do. I would like to sit and have a chicken liver dinner with her, complete with potato salad, baked beans, and ice tea.
Continue reading ““Stay-At-Home” Order — Alabama Style”
This subject has been incubating in my mind for a few years. I am quite qualified for this subject because I was reared in the midst of old men. My Dad was forty when I was born so by the time I could listen with good reason, I was saturated with the wit of “The Greatest Generation”. I am further qualified because now I am looked at, as that once revered title of, “Old Man”. I have been a “hoary head” since my forties.
Continue reading “The Humor of Old Men”