In 1985 Michael J. Fox and Christofer Lloyd starred in the highest grossing movie of the year Back To The Future. If you had the opportunity to see the original or any of the sequels the story line is Michael J. Fox returned to his younger years in a time machine. So, if you would indulge me for a few moments allow me to take you back to my youth from the late forties and early fifties.

I was raised in a small textile town in Eastern N.C. In the summers you woke to a hot humid house and in the winter you woke to a chilly and/or cold house. After dressing in whichever attire the season called for, you made your way to the small kitchen for breakfast. Breakfast was an adventure because on many occasions you were on your on. ( side note: my mom worked the mill and needed to leave home by 5:30 a:m. My dad was the butcher for the mill’s general store requiring him to leave by 7:00 a:m, thus the adventure for breakfast.). My perfect breakfast was my grandfather Troy frying eggs and cornbread fritters in the same skillet. His secret for this combo was a slather of mustard between the fritter and the egg. I know what you are thinking, it was an acquired taste. If Troy had too much moonshine the night before and was a no show, we did have options.

Our second option was loaf bread lightly buttered with a slab of hoop cheese on top thrown into a hot oven until the cheese was golden brown. Option three was rice from last night’s supper scooped into a glass and covered with a half glass of milk. This may have been Kellogg’s first version of Rice Krispies before today’s modern version. ( hells bells, we could have been eating a million dollar enterprise) The last option was then and STILL TODAY—–wait for it—-a mustard sandwich. My family thinks I am weird ( and rightly so) when asking, ” what did you have for lunch”? Answer, ” a mustard sandwich, pickle, and chips”. Jersey Mike’s eat your heart out.

You may be asking, “what promoted this topic”? When I walked into our kitchen for morning coffee, here were the choices of appliances and food selections: Keurig coffee maker, Ninja Air Fryer, microwave oven, Gerorge Foreman grill, and of course an oven. There were three types of cereal, instance grits and oatmeal, sixty second egg omelet, sweet rolls, and raisin bread whew!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AS my coffee cup was slowly filling up, yes I felt blessed, however it did take me back to my upbringing. In my mind for just a few moments it was my Back To The Future.

Be safe.

No dear friends, this has nothing to do with the politicians in Washington, DC. Back in the day if you traveled from the Western part of North Carolina toward Wrightsville or Carolina Beach more than likely you traveled Highway 211East. As you crossed the county line from Robeson into Bladen County your landscape changed from open fields of tobacco to the inner sanctum of The Big Swamp. Hwy. 211 suddenly became more narrow with black waters pushing against the shoulders of the highway, giant oaks and cypress trees creating a canopy over the highway that almost blocked out the sun. The swamp could be chilling and mysterious, but also inviting.

In it’s prime The Big Swamp was a haven for hunters and fisherman. There were white tailed deer, waterfowl galore, black bear, and some of the best fresh water fishing in North Carolina. It was also a haven for poisonous snakes, alligators, and black waters quick to swallow up the curious of heart. Of course for the locals ( yours truly ) in our minds it was our sandy white beach or sorts just like Wrightsville. Just as the hotel swimming pools would post warning signs, ” no diving” or ” no lifeguard on duty”, the swamp had it’s warning signs as well. The exception, these warnings were not printed on signs but warnings from the locals. Beware of water moccasins falling in your boat from dead tree limbs, objects that look like floating logs but upon closer inspection revealed bulging eyes just above the water line, or something large moving through the waters edge that was not a whitetail but a black bear. Being young and impetuous our mind set was, ” no danger here, full speed ahead”.

In our small town hazing was not even a word in our vocabulary, however there was a rite of passage that deemed you swamp worthy. It was simple, you just bailed your butt off the twenty foot high bridge that spanned the “Big Swamp”. The black current would sweep you down river for fifty yards like a feather in a whirlwind. We were reckless but mature enough to have spotters down river to assist anyone that needed help. No one was coerced into jumping. If it was a bad hairday you simply commented, ” maybe next time”?

As in any small town there are yarns spun beyond belief. You know “the six pound crappie that got away” or the ” twelve point buck that spooked before I could shoot”. And of course in the fifties, ” The Beast of Bladenboro” ( worth the Goggle) that was never solved.

Yes, the swamp was the playground for the young and old of heart. As some of can attest too ( yours truly) there were unwritten rules at times learned the hard way. The most important rule, ” when you take the Big Swamp for granted it’s black waters would swallow you up and still remain mysterious and inviting”.

Be safe.

On the eve of ringing in 2023′ ( Holy cow, I’ve been around for eighty-one of these going on eighty-two). In order to keep your minds sharp for the new year, how about a word game? Okay then. What part of our anatomy is associated with the synonyms: love, compassion, sympathy, feelings, mercy and sensitivity? I am impressed, you knew after the first word the heart.

A few days ago my better half asked if I had made any New Year resolutions? Not being a fan of resolutions, I answered, ” no”. After binging on every football bowl game imaginable resolutions began to resonate with me. ” Let’s see, I will not win the lottery, cannot do at eighty-one what I did at sixty, and my eighteen year old Maltese will still not come to me when I call him”. It may sound weird, but due to some recent medical issues the heart came to mind.

Do you realize the average heart beats 100,000 times a day? And, yes for millions of us it is taken for granted, until you are made aware your heart is not to be taken for granted in the future. Soooo! what does one do when the ” taken for granted heart” becomes a medical issue? After you recover from the mental ” gut punch” you follow the doctor’s instructions to a ” T “. And folks the procedures and medicines are new territory for this old guy. And second as important, psychologically you hope your heart is filled with the synonyms as mentioned in the first paragraph. And may I add faith to that list. Wishing you the best for 2023′.

Be safe.

Even though I have been writing this little blog since 2019′, I do not consider myself a writer. I must admit as simple as a blog may appear on numerous occasions you experience ” writers block “. At the recent Thanksgiving family gathering one of my granddaughters suggested, ” Why don’t you write about your grandchildren again”? In 2019′ I did offer a short overview of my grandchildren where they were then and to continue in the waining months of 2020′, ” where they are now”. So please indulge my ” Deja Vu ” writing about my ” young and restless” brood of grandchildren. ( Side note: they are all intelligent, pretty, and confident ).

( Y&R One) My ” personal golf coach” and her best friend are now entrepreneurs. ” PATH FORE SUCCESS” is their website designed for the young golfer with aspirations of pursuing a golf scholarship at a college or university. Their website ” cuts to the chase ” on the where, when, what and how for assistance getting your teenage golfer out front and noticed by the college coaches. (Y&R Two) In 2018′ this grand daughter decided private enterprise may be safer than carrying a badge. That decision has made her a rising star in the wine industry. Talk about starting in the trenches? Even with a college degree her initial entry entailed cutting open wine boxes, shuffling wine from the crates to the shelves, restocking slow moving products with best selling products. Today she heads up regional sales and can rattle off French and Italian brands almost as well as Ina Garten ( almost).

(Y&R Three and Four) These two grandchildren were pursuing a future in education, more specific teaching. Remember the old adage of the dog chasing the car and did not know what to do with it once he caught it? Well, rest assured these two educators know exactly what to do with it. One is in her third year as a fourth grade teacher and the second is in her rookie year as a kindergarden teacher. Hope they keep their memoris, there stories are classics. (Y&R 5) Remember the summer Olympics? My UNC granddaughter swimmer missed qualifying by a gnat’s butt ( I did dress up the gnat’s butt). This year she is captain of the women’s swim team and is experiencing fantastic success. On top of that, she will be working toward her Master’s Degree in Accounting next year. Yes Mildred, there are smart student/athletes out there.

(Y&R 6 ) This member of the brood is a rising Sophomore at three time national football champs, Clemson University. As we chatted over the Thanksgiving holidays about every topic from A to Z it dawned on me, ” am I talking with Dr. Phil”? Yep, you guessed it, she is studing psychology and I may have been her first case study . If counseling becomes her ultimate profession, she is a triple threat. She is smart, compassionate, and understanding. (Y&R 7,8,9 ) If they still have superlatives in high school these three will be ” Most Likely To Succeed”. They remind me of the Energizer Bunny of battery fame. College after high school seems certain for the two Seniors because of their academic excellence and community involvement. If Baptist played poker ( haha) one of these would do a leg kick if she got a pair of deuces, while the other would be holding a royal flush and the expression would never change. My high school Junior may follow in her sister’s foot steps as a college swimmer. The U.S. Naval Academy, UNC, and other colleges are expressing an interst in her. If the world can be changed, these three will be right in the middle of it.

(Y&R 10) A little over a year ago in God’s infinite wisdom, He needed a young well rounded All-American young man for a special position. Needless to say our grandson got the job.

Be safe.

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

Can I assume ( yes, I know what a happens when you assume) there is none among us that has never used the following excuses:” He or she made me do it”, ” It”s not you, it’s me” ( usually a break up relationshsip), ” That never occurred to me”, or ” It’s not my fault”. The bottom line, we have all been thrown ” under the bus” from time to time. Sadly to say, in today’s world being held accountable for one’s actions is null and void.

Please excuse me while I take a moment to regurgiate today’s world. 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 their ideology has rotated a hundred and eighty degrees. While I have one foot on my soap box, why on God’s green earth would anyone be inclined to run for public office ( except for potential financial gains). You do realize your public and personal life ( true or false ) will be plastered all over the world. Not until this last election did I realize three streets over was a bank robber, car thief, and scam artist running for the school board. ( Not true, it was four streets over—just some levity there).

Maybe it’s me, but if a political ad can sway my vote there is a problem with me. Can I get an amen on term limits? However,I am reminded Jesus was crucified for thirty pieces of silver. If all the political rhetoric is correct I must ask the question, ” Is there an honest person among them”?

Be safe

When I was young ( light years ago ) there were two fad’s that allowed even the shyest of personalities to feel a part of the crowd. One was the knock-knock-whose there? ” Lettuce, lettuce who?” Lettuce us in its freezing out here”. ( and on and on with silly stuff like that, but funny at the time). The other was, ” I have a riddle for you”? Since I had a ” slow light bulb ” I was not good at either. However, in my old age I have covered all the bases. Yes, Mildred I made up my own riddle and answer in one fell swoop.

” What do you get when you gather a retired president, a retired vice-president, and six retired sales reps. that worked for a family owned brick manufacturer for a zillion years suggesting a two and half day retreat “? Give up? Lots of adult beverages, good food, laughs until your sides hurt, and enough memories to fill a F-150 Ford pickup truck.

A few months ago our vice-president of sales contacted the “gang of eight” ( it should be nine, however one salesperson had a commitment he could not cancel) suggesting a reunion in picturesque Blowing Rock, N.C. Our ages range from eighty-four to sixty-five so I asked, ” Do we need name tags because there will be eight of us”? After finalizing the dates, knowing we were sharing close sleeping quarters ( before you jump to conclusions, each of us had our own bed ) the light hearted bantering began.

” I will attend if I do not have to room with ——— , he snores like a freight train. Or how many times do I get to flush the commode when I need to relieve myself during the night? Or, is there handicap access since a few of us have arthritic knees? If not, can I get my food and drink delivered to my room? With the majority of us having various physical aliments, I expected a Medicare rep. to show up anytime for a question and answer session. My one regret was not videoing the numerous topics we discussed because the group did solve all the world’s issues. Of course, each of us had his own version of how to do it.

Yes, there was more gray hair, but we attributed that to wisdom. Yes there was a few more wrinkles, but we attributed that to growing old gracefully. Yes, the eye sight wasn’t the best, but we attributed that to poor lighting and menu’s should have larger print. As I packed for the get together, my better half asked, ” Since you guys are not playing golf how will you occupy your time”?

I replied, ” Knowing this group like I do, there will never be a dull moment”. The mountains were fantastic with their autumn colors and so was the ” gang of eight”.

Be safe.

A few weeks ago a funny thing happened as I was preparing for my three mile jog. Y’all know the nearest I come to jogging is a pair of Addias running shorts I only wear on special occasions. As I headed to the kitchen for my morning coffee it suddenly dawned on me, my left leg was twice the size of my right leg. It does not take a rocket scientist to determine, ” Maybe you need to seek medical attention”.

After sonograms and test in the E.R. it was diagnosed that yours truly had a DVT, deep vein thrombosis or in layman’s terms a massive blood clot in my left leg. I was instructed to make an appointment with my cardiologist asap. After jumping through numerous hoops and some rescheduling of medical appointments I met with Dr. A. Not only was Dr. A. a God send, he is considered as one of the best of the best in his field of Cardiac and Vascular Medicine. Within minutes of examing my leg, I was immediately admitted to the hospital and scheduled for the surgical procedure for a DVT. It would take pages to explain the procedure for DVT, but a quick Google tells the tale.

Fast forward. After the surgery when I was rolled out of the operating room no dignitary in the world could have gotten greater medical attention. In the Cardiac I.C.U. there were hovering nurses and tech.’s barking medical terms that sounded Greek to me. Suddenly there was this gentle nurses’ voice with a simple instruction, ” You do nothing for yourself, getting you better is our job”. Being flat on my back for long perod of time, at three a:m I felt the need to adjust my position in the bed. No sooner than I made the slighest move there was that gentile voice again reprimanding me like a child, ” Mr. E. that is a no-no, buzz the nurse next time you need something”. Meekly I replied, ” Sorry, I must have hit the panel it with my elbow”.

Fast forward again. It was Saturday afternoon and during Dr. A’s rounds he determined I could be released. After visits from physical therapy and numerous instructions from my nurse, my transportation ( hospital term for a wheelchair ) had arrived. As my wife and I passed the nurses’ desk they cheered my release and in retrospect, they and Dr. A deserved our heart felt gratitude.

There is an old saying,” When you hear a bell ring an angel has earned their wings”. It occurred to me when the monitors in a hospital room begin to beep doctors and nurses’ in scrubs are earning their wings. Of course, these wonderful medical professionals earn their wings on an hourly basis. And may I say after coming home to recuperate, my wife is earning her wings as well. God bless.

Please be safe.

In my small town in Eastern North Carolina in the summer there were two ways to earn money. One, help the tobacco farmers harvest their crops and two, help the tobacco farmers harvest their crops. The entry position for a nine year old was to keep the workplace clean of debris, make sure the stringers never ran out of tobacco sticks for tying the green tobacco, and last hanging the finished tobacco sticks in the barn. Paying your rookie dues around the barn soon taught you the next entry position was to become a cropper or primer. The trash talk at your lunch break came from the croppers who felt they were the glue that made everything happen. After my rookie year at the prime age of ten, I was ready to become a cropper. With my over blown ego at ten I would only commit to the farmer as a cropper, this would allow me to negoiate my wages. I boasted to my older sister my bargaining prowess, ” Told Mr. Cain I would only work for five dollars a day as a cropper. I was quickly reminded by my sister, ” All the help makes five dollars a day”. ( a cropper was the worker that removed the ripened tobacco leaves from the bottom of the stalks.)

To everyone that complains about the Southern summer heat, be assured you have not lived or almost died until you experience a one hundred degree July day in the middle of a twenty-five acre tobacco field. On many a day when the temperature began to rise the wet tobacco leaves created what today would be called a sauna. I understand the recommended time to stay in a sauna is fifteen minutes. The tobacco fields usually required eight to ten hours. On one such hundred degree day I made a promise to the man upstairs, ” If you will get me through this summer, I will never use a tobacco product”, and I never did.

The preparation for cured tobacco was somewhat tedious. The tobacco leaves were graded one by one. The golden leaves were considered grade A. These were the money makers the tobacco bidders would pay the highest dollar. These leaves were used for cigarettes, grades B and C were usually used for chewing tobbacco, cigars and dipping snuff. From the warehouse the tobacco was shipped to Durham, N.C. for processing. In Texas and Oklahoma oil is referred to as ” black gold”, in the South tobacco was referred to as the “Golden Leaf”. In my day ” smokes” was the slang word for cigarettes.

Now that I have merized you with all this ” interesting” information allow me to add one more ingredient to the pot. In 1924 what was then Trinity College was renamed for Washington Duke, the tobacco magnate that produced cigarettes in Durham, N.C., thus Duke University. For all the UNC-Chapel Hill fans, Google your nickname ” Tar Heels”. It too has an interesting history.

Be safe.

When it comes to our dog, I am reminded of something my Grandfather Troy shared with me at a young age. “Wives. Sometimes it’s hard to live with them and sometimes it’s harder to live without them”. This moment of philosophy came after my Grandmother Mary ran Troy out of the house for coming home under the strong influence of moonshine. Back to a dogs life.

The majority of our family and friends have at least one four legged family member, and at times as many as three. Dogs are much like our children, sometimes they mind, sometimes they don’t. Our four legged child came into our lives seventeen years ago. Yes, I said seventeen. In those seventeen years the dog has yet to respond to my command, Kemper, ” Are you talking to me”? He is the only thing in our home older than me. Even the staff at the vets. office refer to him as the “wonder dog”.

My wife and I are of average weight and height ( me, one hundred and eighty four pounds of muscle—-for those who know me, please stop laughing). My point is a ten pound ball of fur rules the roost. He pretty much sleeps when and where is most comfortable to him, eats when he wants, barks when he shouldn’t, and has taken over my favorite chair in the den. Oh! for the record his vet. and grooming cost are as much as our medical visits.

Do not get me started on dog psychology. Our dog is better than Dr. Phil when it comes to getting his way, can I get an amen? Only dogs and children can push parents to the brink of insanity, and to top if off we usually apoligize for yelling at them. ” Oh, just look at those big sad eyes, how sweet, here baby have a treat”. Yes, dogs can think, they just think like dogs.

I love dogs, maybe to the extreme. Would I trade the hills and valleys this ten pound dynamo has put us through for seventeen years, NEVER.

Be safe.

Folks, the term ” Going To Hell In a Handbasket” dates back to the 1800’s. It simply means the world is in a heap of trouble. The basket implies swift and irrevocable transport to doom.

Presently I have several categories which refer to my ” heaps of trouble”, possibly more to follow. Of course Hitler and Putin and the cowards that have gunned down innocnet children and adults head the list. Not wishing any harm or doom on my nominees (except Putin), it may come as a surprise to the ones that made ” my list”.

A. Politicians that promise, ” if elected when I get to Washington I will lower taxes, reduce the price of gas, end wars, and clean up the corruption in Washington”. No, if you are elected as a Democrat the first thing you will do is report to Speaker of the House Nany Pelosi for your marching orders. If you are a Republican, the first thing you will do is report to Speaker of the Senate Mitch McConnell to recieve your marching orders. Why? Because these two politicans control the purse strings for each party. And who do you think controls these two people? you guessed it, the lobbyist and large political donors. Money talks and B.S. walks.

B. Social media. The catalyst for the downfall of the world. Yes, mental illness and hate maybe the culprit for mass shootings, but where does the brainwshing begin?

C. Irresponsible parents. How the hell do you not know where your son or daughter are at two o’clock in the morning? Then you are surprised when little Johnny is suspended from school for having a Glock 9 in his lunch box. It is a good thing I do not make the laws. If little Johnny brought a gun to school, no matter the age, it is a mandatory thirty-day sentence in jail which includes his parents on weekends.

D. Shows like Entertainment Tonight, Wendy Williams ( now defunct) and reality shows as the one with Paris Hilton and Nicole Ritchie. It’s amazing how these programs put people like Johnny Depp, Amber Heard, Jada Pickett, and of course the KARDASHIANS on pedestals. Do these folks even know what is happening in the real world.

E. Owners of professional sports teams. Being of sound body and mind ( I think) can you justify paying an athlete $400,000,000? I am not the sharpest knife in the drawer, but how long does it take to get a return on almost a half-billion for one player.

F. Vladimir Putin. How can one man with the ” small man syndrome” hold the world at hostage? Yes, I know Russia has nuclear missile and diplomacy may eventually win out, but in the meantime Ukraine is being slaughtered. Where is Rambo when we need him?

G. Power hungry greedy people. How much is enough? Period.

Maybe more time should be spent studing the Ten Commandments than nikpicking the Constitution of the United States. It is cocktail time.

Be safe.