Oh how I love a parade.
Remembering a great lady and a great friend.
I can't wait to return and tour the home again, under official guidance.
Mr. Gene Bobo was special. There's no denying nor disputing that. He was a courtly Southern gentleman, his manners impeccable and his vocabulary belonging to a genteel past.
Honesty isn't always pretty, but sometimes it gains respect, no matter how unpleasant.
I love dreamers who have courage. That's even better than an Academy Award.
A while back, a lovely young lady approached me and, without introduction, recited several lines of wise, well-written prose. "That's lovely!" I gasped. "Who wrote that? She was taken aback and stared for a moment before finally answering. "You did. It's in your first book."
It's six degrees of separation. Southern style when it comes to knowing people in your neck of the woods.
Now I understand all the other folks who have quoted such high prices -- returning calls and showing up makes a person valuable so they can charge more.
I've been thinking about kids in the middle like me.
Sure, I don't have to pay for my raising, but I've also missed the opportunity to pay it forward.
Here's the trouble with some Christians (I said "some", not "all") is they believe that the authority of the Word of God gives them the authority to annihilate those who do not share their exact same beliefs. Wrong. The Word of God commissions those who believe to go forth with love and kindness to friends and enemies alike. It tells us to stand brave for what we believe but "be ye kind one to another." We can disagree civilly.
Twain once said, "A person who won't read has no advantage over one who can't read." When it comes to writing, I'll spin that a bit: The writer who won't invest thought in the lives of others has no advantage over those who can't.
I'll probably be repeating these resolutions again next year. Just like all my previous resolutions.
Each year when Christmas arrived for Mama and her family, there was no money for gifts. They celebrated the holidays with a fresh cut tree and focused on what they, as born again Christians, believed the day to commemorate: the birth of Jesus in a stable in Bethlehem. "We'd usually have a stocking really a sock filled with fruit and nuts," she remembered.