Somehow I feel most of the talk around the Monday morning watercooler had to do with the Masters Golf Tournament. Even if golf does not appeal to everyone the majestic Augusta National Golf Course is worth the watch. Which brings me back in time to my home town of six hundred people.

Somewhere between high school and college I managed to purchase a used starter set of Krydon golf clubs, no longer manufactured. The set consisted of seven clubs, a putter, a raggedy golf bag, and six used golf balls. Until then my only association with golf was my superlative picture in my high school annual holding a golf club for “Most Athletic”.

I think my interest in golf piqued when the owners of the cotton mills (all avid golfers) brought in L.B. Floyd the owner of Cypress Lakes Golf Club in Fayetteville NC to offer the mill employees and children a beginners golf lesson. Mr. Floyd is the father of Raymond Floyd, PGA Golf Hall of Famer. The only other professional golf tip I received was from my granddaughter Lauren who captained the App. State golf team. We were playing a round of golf and after a few holes I asked her for some golf tips. She replied,” Have you considered another hobby”?

Back in the day in my hometown the game of golf was a hobby for the upper class. And even then you had to drive fifteen miles to Lumberton Golf Club to play. Then one day the news spread that the Davis Family was going to build a nine hole golf course on the family farm just outside of town. Davis Construction was well known for land preparation at several golf course’s in Eastern N.C.

After much anticipation, the course finally opened. The club house consisted of a twelve by fourteen foot storage shed. At check in there were a few rules not listed in the USGA Rules of Golf you needed to be aware of. One, since this is a family farm be on the lookout for children running across the fairways at times followed by dogs. Rule two, this also applies for cows and hogs, Three, you cannot play without wearing a shirt. Look out world, you have a bunch of good old boys and girls swinging iron sticks at little white golf balls trying to hit it in a little round hole.

If America’s Funniest Videos had existed at the time, this would have been a treasure trove of excerpts for that program. Yes, it was a blue collar golf course for folks that did not require all the amenties that most courses offered. More than likely half of the golf beginners had never heard of The Masters, but in our minds our little nine hole course was the Augusta National.

Be safe.

Raised in a small Southern town, you did not have the bells and whistles larger towns or cities such as Wilmington had to offer. However, with a smacking population of six hundred people we were blessed with two town doctors.

There was Dr. H. and Dr. B. Dr. H was the younger of the two by a few years and practiced a more modernistic approach to medicine. Dr. B. was was your typical no nonsense country doctor. The one advantage Dr. B had over Dr. H, his brother Joe owned the cotton mills.

It was never contested, but the rumor was Dr. B received three dollars per week from each of the hourly employees in the mills. Approximately three hundred employees X three dollars per, you do the math. The upside of this arrangement, you never got a doctor bill.

Dr. B’s bedside manner was reserved for the elderly which he had attended to for years. He knew the parents and children of every mill hand in town, because in most instances he had delivered us in our homes. I can attest to his bedside manner in my youth. On four different occasions I required stiches resulting from numerous double dares from my older sisters. For the record, you cannot do a back flip on a bed with a metal head’board. If Dr. B had a numbing antiseptic it was never used on me. A cotton swab dipped in alcohol and the procedure began.

The doctors office was located in the back of his drug store in a similar fashion as your CVS and Walgreens of today. On one of my four visits my mom happened to be purchasing some items in the drug store. Of course, you could hear me screaming at the top of my lungs.

My mom asked the manager, ” Whose child is that yelling back there”?

His reply, ” I think it is your son”.

To this day as a reminder of yester year, all I need to do is rub the back of my head and feel the scar tissue. There is one last thought for those visits, when Dr. B was stiching me up he would say,” Does that hurt”?

“Yes”

“Then don’t do it”.

Be safe

For the record, I have contacted John Grisham, James Patterson, Colleen Hoover and David Baldacci inquiring, ” How do you folks handle writers block”? They must be head over heels with their next best sellers because none have yet to get in touch with me. ( levity people levity).

To be honest I am not sure if it is writers block or the current status of the world we live in today. Most of my life has always been a person who see’s ” the glass half full rather than half empty”. And it would be really easy to jump on the bully pulpit and express my feelings about Russia, Ukraine, China, Iran, and America. However, like the 340,000,000 people in the U.S. everyone has their own opinion wheather right, wrong, or indifferent.

The following is ” based on true events”.

I am reminded of my youth when we played cow pasture baseball. Only one kid had an official baseball and if he could not pitch he would take his baseball and go home. Problem was he was a lousy pitcher, but his baseball, his rules. To me that is what the world is like today. After a few days of polling our pennies and dimes, the knot hole gang bought our own official baseball. That small purchase spoke volumes because it was for the good of many and not for just one whose ego was more important to him than kindness. Just saying. I am going to stop now because there is a case of writers block taking over.

Be safe

Many years ago my young grandchildren would ask? “What do you want for Christmas?” My reply,”Peace of mind”. In their innocense they would ask,”Where do you get that”?

This Christmas our “peace of mine” was delivered in the form of a five pound beautiful eight month old Pomeranian puppy, a gift from our children. For my teary eyed wife, it was love at first sight. I admit, me to.

A few years ago we lost our Maltese after nineteen years. We grieved for a period of time and on occasion talked of getting another dog when the time was right. Truth be known, I felt for three years since Kemper Dog’s passing both of us had a silent void in our hearts for another pet. For me I wrestled with the thoughts of “Can I handle the attachment of another dog like those I had for Kemper.”?

As soon as I saw the hypnotic eyes and small button nose camouflaged by pounds of hair my fears of attachment were immediately erased. As the line from Tom Cruise’s movie ” Show Me The Money”, Sir Baxter (Bax) Waldo Edwards had me with “hello”.

In less than a month, Bax is loveable, fun to watch, and yes, very mischievous. He has taken over our ( his ) home and prances around with a small dog attitude. Of course, we have already spoiled him to the bone. The one characteristic I am aware of is the therapeutic joy this five pound fur ball has brought to our lives. And then again, maybe he does.

Best of 2026′ Be Safe.

On or about this time every year I share my approach for ” The Reason For The Season”. At eighty plus years of age decorations and Christmas lights on a tree are like a time traverler being hurled through space. Some of our decorations go back decades while some are as recent as last year. Like life these decorations and lights speak of love, heart break, tears and laughter.

My stress recommendation for the hustle and bustle of Chrisetmas is simple and inexpensive. There are four basic steps to my method. Like most, you have your favorite escape spot, go there. Next, you have a favorite beverage, in moderation of course. Step three, put the ear pods in and find your favorite Christmas music. Last step, begin to ” count your lights”.

Between the lights and decorations you will find some burn brighter than others or have greater meaning than others. The gamut can range from the hills and valleys this past year, or angel wings that speak softly to you. At times I find myself laughing out loud and other times realize my eyes have teared up. May I suggest you bring a few Kleenex, just in case.

When I seem to disappear in the evening my better half will comment, ” Are you counting lights”?

Peace on earth—Be safe.

Being raised in a small town with a population of six hundred people you were never inudated with political rhetoric from either party. One major reason, very few people had access to any form of communication other than radio, a few posters, and word of mouth.

My parents were Democrats and other than it was the party of their parents, and their grandparents, and so on and so forth generations past, that was the connection. Maybe the Republican elephant did not catch their fancy as much as the Democrats donkey logo. If my memory serves me correctly ( your snickering is very apparent) it was the presidential election of 1984 between Ronald Reagan and Jesse Jackson ( so I Googled it, sue me). Reagan won in a landslide.

At some point in time before the election, I was talking with my mom about the upcomg election.

” How do you feel about the electon”?

” We will vote Democratic”.

” And dad”?

” Ever how I tell him”.

” Are you familiar with Jackson’s platform”?

” No, I just know which ever party has the most moonshine and dollar bills will win the election. The Democrats have the moonshine covered, but not the dollar bills”.

“You can fool all the people some of the time and some of the people all the time, but you cannot fool all the people all the time.” Abraham Lincoln. Happy Thanksgiving.

Be safe.

October being the month of ghost and goblins, I am reminded of the events and stories that would bring chill bumps to my sisters and me. My blog from 10-31-2019 “Small Town Folklore” details a few of those stories.

After we moved from the cotton mill village closer to town there was one landmark that carried with it as much mystery as The Beast of Bladenboro or Joe Baldwin searching for his head at the Maco Light railroad, it was—- “The Bridge”.

There was a swamp with a stream between our home and down town that required the N.C. Department of Transportation in the 1920’s to build a permanent structure over it, the bridge. Many an hour was spent playing in the swamp and under the bridge. Of course when play time went from day to dusk you left the swamp and bridge to the mysteries that dwelled there. According to the old-timers at Azzie’s Barber Shop The Beast of Bladenboro still lurks in the swamp on odd days of the month and the unexplained cries that come from the swamp when there is a full moon have never been resolved.

My sisters and I were very exicited about going to the Wonet Theatre during the week to watch a horror movie titled. “The Thing”. The movie was based on a space ship that crashed in the Antarctic with an alien on board that was frozen for decades. After cutting the alien out of the ice they brought it inside. As the ice began to melt around the alien, scientist began to disappear. The movie was in black and white making the dynamics even more scary.

During the week the theatre had only one showing at eight o’clock, meaning the movie let out at ten o’clock. When the three of us exited the movie our town had become a ghost town. There was no traffic, no store lights, and a few street lights here and there. Still polarized from the movie when we reached the edge of town we all stopped in unison. Before us stood the bridge in total darkness with an errie glow from a distant street light.

You could have cut the air with a knife. The only sounds were coming from the swamp and our heavy breathing. My oldest sister broke the silence with four words,” What is today’s date”?

Remembering the old-timers comments about odd days of the month I mumbled “October 29th., one day before Halloween”. My middle sister in typical fashion said, ” On the count of three we start running and if you fall down you are on you”.

I can still recall our screams as we sprinted across the bridge. Have you ever been so scared that when you came to your senses you cried and laughed at the same time? We did. Happy Halloween.

Be safe.

As we slip from summer to fall, I am reminded of the various Farmers Markets in our area that bring their home grown veggies, melons, and goodies to our city. Seeing the home grown watermelons in particular takes me back to a time when I was young. ( yes children, I can remember that far back).

Since we are well past the statue of limitations I must admit to caper that happened long ago, I committed a crime. On a boring Saturday night with nothing to do in our small town, my knot-hole-gang ( Me and three of my buds) stole about twenty watermelons from Mr. Fields watermelon patch. The watermelon patch was huge. On Saturdays, Mr. Fields would load his pick-up truck with a few melons, park at the post office and sell them for a little gas money.

In our defense, numerous melons in his patch had begun to rot due to the hot summer sun. It was an act of passion because everyone loves a good watermelon. One of my bud’s had an old Studebaker pick-up which was a perfect fit for the melons.

My bud’s and I decided to do a charitable act for our neighbors on the Cotton Mill Hill. We were aware of the families that would appreciate a nice free watermelon left mysteriously on there front porch. Like Vegas, ” what happens on The Hill, stays on the Hill”.

“All’s Well That Ends Well”. We had one large melon left and being in a celebratory mood we decided what better way than to bust that melon at our one stoplight intersection. As we were about to enjoy the fruits of our labor Deputy Red pulled up in his squad car. “Y’all want to tell me where you happened upon that melon at eleven o’clock on Satruday night”? The one logical member of the gang simply said, “Deputy Red, how about some sweet watermelon”? All’s Well.

Be safe

When the philosopher Diogenes was asked, ” Why do you go around with a lighted lamp in broad daylight”? He confessed, “I am looking for an honest man”.

Can I assume there is none among us that has never used one of the following excuses? ” He or she made me do it”, It’s not you, it’s me” ( usually to break up a relationship). ” Nobody instruced me to do that”, It’s certainly not my fault that happened”. Sadly, in today’s world being held accountable for one’s actions is a thing of the past.

I am not sure if the people supposedly in charge of the world irritate me the most, or the people who follow them like sheep jumping off a cliff. How gullible we have become to accept a person’s ideology on Monday and on Tuesday the ideology has rotated one-hundred and eighty degrees. Why on God’s green earth ( or used to be) other than financial gain would anyone run for public office. You do realize that every aspect of your life personal or professional will become open game weather true or false. ( Side bar: John Wayne-the Duke’s real name was Marion Robert Morrison) You telling me all of us do not have skelton’s in our closet.

Today’s world is so broken. Feel free to pick your topic, there are so many choices. I am reminded that Jesus was betrayed for thirty pices of silver. If all the rhetoric is correct in the world, I must ask the question, ” Is there an honest man among us”.

Be safe.

Summer in the South, let me count the ways. You have beaches, lakes, rivers, vacations, farmer’s markets AND mosquitoes. Granted these little pests are everywhere, but where I was raised there was concerns mosquitoes were so large they might fly off with your puppy.

In my small town we were surrounding with swamps, rivers, and lakes which are prime breeding grounds for ” skeeters”. ( Sidebar: It is the female mosquito that sucks the blood from your body. It offers the nutrients that allow her to produce her eggs).

In the summer in an effort to beat the heat at night you sat on your front porch. This made you open game for the pesky devils. There were two ways to combat the nuisances. One, you took a large aluminum can, filled it with rags, set it on fire, and let it smolter. The smoke would keep the mosquitoes at bay as long as you had the smoke around you.

The second method was the mosquito truck ( public service) that came by once a month and sprayed a mist of D.D.T. ( very toxic). Not knowing any better, my friends and I would ride our bikes behind the truck laughing and joking all the way. I have often wondered why my eyes turn werewolf green when there is a full moon. The “skeeters” were big and buzzed around your head like a swarm of bee’s. When they bit you a welt was sure to follow. We probably went through a bottle of alcohol a week.

When sitting on our patio today and the familiar “singing” of the female mosquito buzzes in my ear, it takes me back to my upbringing. As we would smash one of the blood sucking pest, the comment on the porch was, ” Now that’s a skeeter”.

Be safe.