Real Men – Pathway Journey

March 22, 2023March 22, 2023

Praying for Rain

The year was 1824 and we had moved from Tennessee to the foothills in Alabama after our crops in Tennessee had been gathered in. I had bought 20 acres of land in the valley below the mountain plateau I first crossed with General Jackson in 1812.

When we were settling into the new homestead, we immediately began cutting logs for a small cabin. We figured the land on the downside of the mountain would be the richest ground. So that’s where we cut the first trees for our house, gaining logs, and clearing a cornfield at the same time.

January 18, 2023January 18, 2023

Stand Still, Don’t Move!

I’m sure the phrase, “Stand still, don’t move” has been said million of times in thousands of circumstances. I can hear one of my older brothers using that phrase when we were squirrel hunting. I’m sure a young soldier has heard similar words in a mine field. Perhaps a hiker has heard the same when a rattlesnake was within striking distance of his leg.

August 16, 2022August 15, 2022

I Shine My Own Shoes

I recall as a small boy from the age of six or seven knowing how to shine my own shoes. Since that time, the only time I remember paying for a shoeshine was in Haiti and then only to help an industrious village youth trying to make a few gourdes.

Independence is probably a fault of mine. I had rather do something myself than to ask someone to do it. This has been one of my faults in life, not delegating tasks.

June 16, 2022June 16, 2022

For the Men in Grubby Ole Caps

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.

March 30, 2022March 30, 2022

Old Men

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.

August 18, 2021August 18, 2021

Our Little World

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.

July 15, 2021July 14, 2021

Head-Nodders

“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.

June 18, 2021June 18, 2021

Hands of My Father

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.

May 28, 2021May 27, 2021

Simple Pleasures

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.

September 7, 2020September 6, 2020

Work With Your Own Hands

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.