It was early May in 1959 and summer was fast approaching. There remained one last major obstacle to accomplish in my twelve year climb in education, graduation.

My Senior year there was a grand total of seventy-two grads. At the time I could not speak for the other seventy-one but for me I had no idea what the future held. On graduation night as the principal called my name to receive my diploma it was likened to falling into an abyss. The days of being a pretty good athlete, somewhat popular, and lot’s of friends was now in the rear view mirror. Not being one of the sharper knives in the drawer major uncertainty loomed heavily for my future.

Being a single A high school with a total enrollment of approximately two hundred students from the 9th. through the 12th. did not offer guidance counselors to prepare you for the next chapter in your life. We were not subjected to college prep courses, S.A.T,’s, or employment opportunities. At the time in my life I think none of that would have mattered. Cotton mill here I come.

My mentor with every positive accolade I could list was my high school coach. After graduation he talked me into playing American Legion baseball with Elizabethtown N.C. Somewhere in the scheme of things he failed to inform me that one of our opponents would be Wilmington’s American Legion 10. One of the strongest teams in N.C. lead by All-State everything Roman Gabriel. Gab went on to stardom at N.C. State and NFL quarterback for the Rams and Eagles. He was a starting pitcher at 6’4″, 225 lbs. Need I say more.

Long story short, as bad as they whipped us that night ( as the old timers in Bladen Co. would say to a hitter, hit it where they ain’t.) I was able to scratch out two hits and a couple of runs batted in. As I was leaving the dressing room that night I was approached by a portly man with his hand out stretched. ” I am Earl Smith assistant baseball coach at East Carolina ( at the time he was also the head basketball coach as well) and Coach Mallory and I would like for you to come for a tryout and visit the campus”.

Thirty days later after a visit, an S.A.T., and college application, I received a partial scholarship to attend E.C.C to play baseball. Jaws were dropping in my family, mine being the largest. In my old age I sometimes wonder if I had not had a good showing against one of the premier teams in the South where would my “now what” have taken me.

Be safe.

“Just when you think it is safe to go back in the water”, Stephen Spielberg’s JAWS movie in 1975 with a great white shark being the main character. This reminds me of my recent medical set backs for the past few years. Allow me to bore you briefly with the time line. Ready? Deep Vein Thrombosis (removal of massive blood clot)—-ablation ( irregular heart rhythms)—-two stents (clogged artery)—AFIB ( rapid heart rate that causes poor blood flow). To my point, my thinking was my only problem was the blood clot, silly me.

After the afore mentioned procedures and numerous medications my cardiologist instructed me to sign up for twelve weeks of rehab. This program is one hour a day three times a week and is overseen by Novant’s Cardiac Rehabilitation and Wellness Center on Randolph Road. My first session was April 2023′.

With my head in a whirlwind I walked into the exercise facility taken back by the activity and interacting of staff and patents. I was immediately met by some of the finest professionals you could ask for. After brief introductions one of the staff greeted me with a stethoscope in hand. “Welcome Joe, I need your blood pressure, heart rate, oxygen level, weight and have you hydrated today”?

Three little suction cups later and a monitor down loading my every move, my list of exercises and the goals for each was discussed. When I felt like the little steam engine going up the mountain I kept saying, ” yes I can, yes I can”. And the caring staff was saying, ” yes you can, yes you can”. An “Atta Boy” never felt better.

Fast forward, April 2025′ will be my second year in the program. After my twelve week graduation I was able to sign up for a membership, “best money ever spent”. The sessions are more of a celebration than a workout. It is a melting pot of personalities that have become friends. Psychologically the peace of mind the sessions bring is as important as the physicality it offers. I am reminded of Toby Keith’s hit record, ” I Love This Place”.

One wonders, ” I know they are there, but why can’t I see their angel wings”. They truly are the Miracles on Randolph.

Be safe.

An English author Edward Bulwer Lytton in 1839 phrased the quote, ” The pen is mighter than the sword”. The quote emphasizes the power of words to influence and change history rather than the use of force.

To me there are two emphatic power points from Lytton’s quote, words and force. May I remind you of tragedies ( force ) that altered history in the modern day world we live in today. The bombing of Pearl Habor, invention of the atomic bomb, 9-11, Ukraine, Isreal, Gaza and terrorism. Think of all the failed diplomacy ( words ) prior and during these ongoing catastrophes. By no means am I advocating force to settle the division in the world today only that history does have a way of repeating itself.

May 10,1933 is probably the most famous book burning in history. Under the Nazi regime Adolph Hitler ordered all books in Germany be burned that would impair his dictorial race movement in Europe. (Soooo! as my granddaughter would say keeping one in suspense for the but) Do we put down the pen and accept “force” or assume “words” will defend the United States against foreign and domestic enemies? (Just saying as per the U.S. Constitution). Lytton certainly had good intentions with his quote in 1839, however in todays not sure.

Be safe.

After ( or even before) Thanksgiving one’s thought process turns to Christmas. Whether it’s the commercial aspect or the Real Reason For The Season somehow the stress factor always has a way of creeping in. Over the past few years not having to wrestle with a string of Christmas lights I have put a new twist on the dreaded stress of Christmas. You do not need to go to Amazon or your local mall to find it, just “count the lights” on your Christmas tree.

There are a few guidelines you need to be made aware of. The first is some form of Christmas lights, Christmas tree or a simple string of lights. One comfy chair, beverage of your choice, some soothing music ( Michael Buble’ kind of stuff) and you have all the needed ingredients.

Each light I count is in reference to a family member, friend, or memory as old as the decades of ornaments on the tree or as recent as last year. As my mind shifts from one light to another I find myself over joyed with the memory and other times teary eyed, so you may want to bring a few Kleenex. Like numerous families this year’s landscape has been filled with hill’s and valley’s. As a youngster I was quick to comment to my mom,” why don’t we have all the material things like our neighbors”? As her brown laser eyes shot me down like a scolded puppy she would say,” there are people better off than we are, but there are lots of people that are much worse off than we are”.

” yes ma’am”.

There are always some lights that shine brighter than others not because of the illumination but the memory behind it. Rest assured you will know when that happens. During the holidays when I magically disappear my better half will comment,” are you counting the lights”? Yes.

Merry Christmas-Be safe.

Engelbert Humperdinck ( yes, I Googled the spelling) had a hit song in the late Seventies, ” This Moment In Time” which resonated with me recently. Age does not have a monoply on time because if you can’t recall memories good, bad, or indifferent what good are they? There is an old saying, ” Sometimes I sits and think and sometimes I just sit”. When I do sit and think I am reminded of special times and days from my upbringing. Of course one can spend hours comparing the past to the present. Remember, the only constant is change. With Thanksgiving only a few weeks away I did “sit and think” how my family celebrated Turkey Day. Rest assured it was nothing like Norman Rockwell’s famous picture “Freedom”, but we did have a turkey.

Yes Mildred, far away and long ago people in my neck of the woods celebrated two special days that were seperate and apart of each other, Thanksgiving and Christmas. At our table how dare one at Thanksgiving dinner use the blessing of this day as the gateway to Christmas. The mere mention of Christmas would bring out the worst of my mom’s brown eyed lasers. Trust me you did not want to go there.

After a five minute blessing from my mom covering every relative on the family tree, neighbors, preachers past and present and even Brownie our dog, we began the meal. Turkey, hoping the drumsticks were sticking up, cornbread dressing, mashed potatoes, rice, peas & beans, and mom’s sweet potatoe pudding baked on a cookie sheet and cut into squares.

After the meal it was then and only then that you sat and let your thoughts turn to Christmas. Can I get an amen.

Be safe—Happy Thanksgiving.

Forgive my nerdiness. Heraclitus was a Greek philosopher that coined the phrase, “The only constant is change”. I did ask for your forgiveness which brings us to Halloween.

CIRCA 1950’s. As you can imagine in a small Southern town where churches outnumber the local businesses, Halloween was not viewed as a day for costumes and candy for children. Depending on one’s church affilation Halloween was defined as a day for the devil’s workshop. Children dressed as monsters, witches, and mom’s makeup that made you appear as the walking dead. If there was a store bought costume in our town it did not come from our neighborhood.

Even in the throes of candy vs. the church’s philosophy my partner in crime ( middle sister) would venture out in quest of sweet rewards. Our costumes, what we wore to school that day and a kerchief tied around our nose and mouth, original right? We did have a psychology to our madness. If the trick or treaters before us came away with a candy cane left over from last Christmas we moved on to greener pastures. Usually this was Front Street where the residences could afford current store bought candy. And it was handed out one piece at a time, not grab a handful and haul tail.

CIRCA 2024′ Halloween has become almost as popular as Christmas with elaborate yard displays and money spent. Back in the day in our hood a plastic jack-o-lantern or small pumpkin was the extent of Halloween decor. Elaborate would have been a lit candle for the plastic jack-o-lantern. Needless to say costumes today are as elaborate as characters from the Wizard of Oz to the main character in the smash movie Oppenheimer. Even the family pet’s are dressed to the nines. How rude to give a child a pack of M&M’s and the Golden is looking at you with sad eyes all decked out thinking, ” where is my milk bone”? So we got that going on now.

Last but not least let’s address candies. OMG. I just love the kid’s that plunder through your variety of twelve different candies and ask, ” you don’t have any Twixt bars’? Maybe the way to go is the dentist that give out toothbrushes with his business card. There was one Halloween where we set up a child’s table and an adult’s table. The adult table had chardonnay and merlot shooters. At evening’s end there was much more candy left on the child’s table than wine on the adult’s table, hmmmm!. Change is constant. Happy Halloween.

Be safe.

As a nine year old I had three heroes in my imaginary fantasy world. There was Allen Rocky Lane a western movie star, my stick horse Buck, and Dick Tracy. Allow me to take you back to 1931 (no I was not born until 1941). Dick Tracy is an American comic strip character who is a tough and intelligent police detective. The comic strip debuted in 1931 and to this day still appears in newspaper comic sections. Aside from Tracy’s ability to the catch the bad guys I was swept away by one defining comic strip. In 1931 Dick Tracy was communicating with headquarters through (wait for it ) his wrist watch.

Okay, now you have one more trivia fact to put in your memory bank. Let’s fast forward to 2024′. A few weeks ago I watched Oprah Winfrey’s special on A.I. Her panel consisted of several A.I. experts including Sam Altman founder of A.I. and Bill Gates co-developer of Microsoft.

Granted I am not the strongest I.T. person, but my take away from the position of Altman and Gates on A.I. scares the hell out of me. If I understood the context of the discussion for A.I. it has the ability to disrupt the world as we know it today. Just think how addicted we are to social media. With A.I. you can emulate an image, a voice over, narrative of a speech weather factual or not ( i.e. political ads ), world economics and even war and peace. With the sophistication of A.I.’s database thousands of jobs can be eliminated, even the personal involment of educationing our youth.

Oprah asked, ” who will be monitoring how A.I. is utilized, the government or private industry”? The answer, ” private endustry”. Hmmm! let’s review. Mike Zuckerberg-Meta, Google-Alphbet Inc. Elon Musk-X. just to name a few. Another trvia fact, the world news that is telecast 24/7 is controlled by fifteen billionaries. ( that will either sober you up or order a second round). As we know the government can screw up a piece of rawhide, so there is that. There is an old saying, “If I can’t pitch I will take the only baseball and go home”. He who controls the baseball controls the game. Food for thought.

A.I. hero or zero? For this old guy, I am still trying to figure out the t.v. remote.

Be safe.

As a very young boy the first concrete swimming pool ( as we used to say ) I ever saw was a picture in a Sears Roebuck catalog advertising swimwear. In my neck of the woods your introduction to serious water was either the swamp, rivers, White Lake or the ocean. That was unless you knew about Butler Mill Hole.

Butler Mill Hole was an eight acre natural pond located about one mile from our home. It was surrounded by large oaks and Loblolly pines. The banks were high enough allowing you to do your version of a Tarzan yell before hitting the water. Everyone had the same swimming attire, cut off blue jeans ( fashionable before our time) that were hung on a tree limb to dry. In the very middle of the pond was a large oak tree stump which became the commemorative rostrum upon you successfully completing the task at hand. Your badge of honor among the ten or so BMH gang was one’s ability to jump off the bank and make your way to the large stump. Your swimming technique did not matter as long as you could make it to the stump and back. For me, dog paddling was my confidence stroke. As adventurous as we were, the older and stronger swimmers would act as lifeguards. There were times beginners needed assistance but no one ever drowned. After a few weeks and swallowing several gallons of water I graduated to the forward crawl.

Feeling as though I had conquered the world in my exuberance there lay two obstacles that slipped my mind. My middle sister and of course my mom. The middle sister who will remain nameless ( I do love her) mission in life was to throw me under the bus at every opportunity, especially with our mom. ” Mom, guess who went swimming at Butler Mill Hole today”? I could never figure out how my sister knew I had been to BMH until one day the light bulb went off. When I came home from swimming my hair looked like Alfalfa from the Little Rascals T.V. (worth a Google) show. From that day on a small comb became a part of my wardrobe.

As my mom would administer my punishment I can still recall her words of wisdom to me,” What have I told you about going into deep water before you learn to swim”. Today I am sure there are some concrete ponds (ha) in my small hometown, but if not I’ll bet Butler Mill Hole still exists.

Be safe

For the millennials, ” whuppings ” is the term that was used in my youth for a whipping and/or a spanking. In my day bumper stickers were not an “in thing”, but if they had been the following would have been the most popular. ” Spare the rod and spoil the child”. Proverbs 13:24. Just got an atta boy and amen from my mom.

Today’s world puts a totally different connotation on discipline than what was the norm in the fifties, at least at our house. Just saying if you ” messed ” up right now ( 2024) you might lose the gameboy control for two days, car privileges for a week, and God forbid loss of the cell phone. The cell phone discipline can result in panic attacks, shallow breathing, a cold sweat, and being ostracized by your peers for not commenting on a current TikTok post. Allow me to take you ” back to the fifties when yours truly was the “posterboy” for ” whuppings”. I have a top five list Netflix is interested in ( haha), but I will share only one this blog. More to follow.

You never ever misbehaved at church. There were times even the preacher would interrupt his sermon and call down a rowdy child. More times than one did my peeps and I hit the floor as the parents turned to see who he was referring too. After being caught redhanded in church, I am reminded what a good athlete my mom was. She could pivot three-hundred and sixty degrees, while reciting bible verses and spanking me the whole time. My middle sister who threw me under the bus more than once would become prophetic with a sheepish grin, ” Ma, he said can you just spank him without the preaching”? I did double down with that comment. Yes, listen more and talk less.

As I sit here smiling to myself for ALL the crazy things I did growing up there is resolve for that discipline. Many years later I realized the motive behind my mom’s actions. ” Son, as a loving mother every time I am forced to punish you it hurts me more than it hurts you, let it be a lesson for life”. And it has.

Be safe.

Several years ago ( or maybe more) I would tell my wife, ” I met the nicest Senior Citizen today”. Now at eighty-two years of age guess who has become that Senior Citizen several years over. Hopefully nice is thrown into the conversation if referring to me.

Last year when I turned eighty-two my neighbor asked me, ” If I could take ten years off my life would I do it”? Without hesitation I said “No”. Like most people my life has been a series of “ups” and “downs”. Many of the ups were predictable and many were unpredictable. Suffice to say many of the downs were predictable and many were unpredictable. One of the many downs was I should have talked less and listened more. One of the many ups is a loveing family and friends.

If you are pondering the “ten year” question maybe thats a good thing—or then again maybe not. Why was I so quick to say “no”? At eighty- two I am very content with my life. Sure, winning the lottery would be nice, but I would probably give most of the money away. My health has taken some bumps in the road but that is being handled, Of course the world is divided and upside down,in more ways than I care to discuss, but there is little I can do to correct that ( except a little prayer for better things to come).

The bible says,” Faith, love and hope are the greatest gifts and love is the greatest of these”. Not one to contradict the bible, but in todays world AR15’s and Glock 9’s have replaced love with hate and violence. I gladly accept my eighty-two years of age and HOPE in the near future LOVE can substitute hate. Of course you have to have the third ingredent to make it all happen FAITH. Then if my neighbor poses the question again, my answer may be “Yes”.

Be safe.