If you have followed any of my previous blogs ( thank you) you probably surmised I came from a small Southern town in Eastern N.C. We were blessed to have two doctors, that I will refer to as Dr. B and Dr. H. Their bedside manner was totally one-hundred and eighty degrees apart. ( personal sidebar–both made house calls in the day, and yours truly was delivered in a small wood frame house on a cold November day. Take that Grey’s Anatomy). If one looked up country doctor in Webster’s ( for the young I.T.’s out there, that is a dictionary) Dr. B’s picture would be beside it. If you looked up methodically, Dr. H’s picture would be beside it.

Several blogs ago, I gave a brief description of my two older sisters. Both quite different, but did have one thing in common. They loved pushing me into the double-dare world of my on stupidity, ” you can’t do that”. To this day I still have the scars to prove that stupidity. Examples of their double-dares: No, I could not jump from tree to tree as Tarzan did, ( stitches), no I could not jump off the roof of our house with a towel as a cape and fly like Superman (stitches), no, I could not jump on the bed and do a backflip ( stitches), and no, a wash tub is not a good idea as a boat in a flooded swamp ( stitches).

As my sisters would drag me screaming and yelling to Dr. B’s, the welcome became monotonous, ” what did he do this time”?. Dr. B’s practice was made up largely of textile mill employees. For the mere sum of three dollars a week deducted from your pay, your office visits were covered. Before you start comparing medical cost for today think. Dr. B was pulling three dollars a week from four hundred employees weather it was needed or not. If there was an additional charge it was usually for penicillin shots, that was the cure all for everything in the day. Unless you had one foot in the grave, a visit to Dr. B was about fifteen minutes. His class line, ” does it hurt when you do that”? Yes. “Well don’t do that”.

Dr. B’s office was located in the in the back half of the local drug store ( which he owned), privacy was not an option. Everyone in town knew exactly the ailments of the neighborhood. On this occasion as I was getting stitched up from one of my double-dares, when my mom happened to drop into the drug store. ” Who in the world is doing all that screaming back there” she asked. Mr. Todd the manager replied ” I think your daughters just brought your son in for stitches”. For the record, Dr. B preferred rubbing alcohol as a pain killer rather than wasting time with a shot of Novocain.

A few years later I gave up on Tarzan, Superman, and acrobatics. Still out to lunch on the wash tub as a floatation.

Modern medicine from yesteryear. If you are employed by Medicare, please disregard the above.

Be safe.

Having played some high school and college baseball years ago, there was a term often used by the players, ” He has lost his stuff”. That usually is in reference to a pitcher. The reason that term resonates with me today is my concern, “Has America lost it’s stuff”?

When I do my daily meditation ( right now I am up to three minutes a day) I ask myself, ” have I been living under a rock for the last decade”? If so when and where in God’s name did so much hate infest our way of life so quickly.

Pharmaceutical companies are the best brainwashers in the world when it comes to a cure all medicine for every aliment known to man or woman. The user is shown skipping across the meadow or watching a sunset holding hands with their significant other and all is well with the world. Then ( wait for it) a voice sounding like Darth Vader gives you the side effects of the miracle drug that seem worse than the cure, ” say what”?. How about just finding a cure for the common cold and when doing your research throw in a ” stop the hate pill”.

If Covid 19 was intentionally developed by a foreign country, Darth Vader forgot to give us the side effects. Pick your poison, social injustice, advocates to defund law enforcement, the new normal, rioting, and all the needless killings of ALL PEOPLE and *^&!#@$ POLITICS. Are you as sick and tired of being sick and tired with all the crap in our world, (except rice, love me some rice) as I am.

Has it occurred to you how we “cherry pick” Bible verses? ( WOW!! where did that come from–I’m beginning to sound like Tyler Perry’s Madeira) You know, John 3: 16, the Lord’s Prayer, the 23rd Psalm. Here is one that works for me.

” In this life we have three great lasting qualities, FAITH, HOPE, and LOVE, but the greatest of these is LOVE. Without LOVE there cannot be genuine HOPE”.

Be safe. PS: My wife and I have already mailed in our ballots for the upcoming election, so would the television stations please refrain from airing all future political ad’s to our home

Hey guys. To use a line from Arnold’s movie, The Terminator, ” I’m back.”

Back in the day when I was teaching school ( yes, we did have electricity) it was imperative on the first day of class to establish an air of student empowerment. In layman’s terms, ” you think, I think, we think”. As my class of thirty settled into ” Introduction of Health 101″ I opened with the following, ” A mind is a terrible thing to waste”. Between the ” thinking thing and the terrible mind thing”, I was staring at thirty deer in the headlights faces.

Grouping for some form of follow up, from the back of the room a hand goes up. ” Yes Willard, you have a question”?

” Hey teach (lovingly) you are saying you are going to do my thinking and I am going to do your thinking”? ” Then I’m thinking you just give us all A’s and don’t bother us with the bones in the body or all the blood type stuff”.

Of course the room erupted in laughter. Trying to regain control of thirty freshman students is like trying to herd cats into a cage.

” Willard you are partially right. What I want to do is present the class with subjects that creates discussion from your perspective. Here is an example”.

“Everyone look at your fingertips. Would you believe that in the whole world no one has fingertips identical to yours”?

Willard again, ” So when my uncle was booked at the county jail and fingerprinted, no one has the same fingertips”?

“Yes”

Willard, ” wonder if my uncle knew that when he broke into the auto parts store”.

As if by magic everyone began to examine their fingertips. It was like a “flash mob” broke out. The students began to compare their fingertips with other students.

Realizing the sudden interest, my light bulb went from dim to bright. ( side note–if you are older than thirty you can remember chalk, a chalk board, and chalk erasers. If you are younger than thirty you are probably having a ” what moment”.) I proceeded to take the chalk eraser and tap a light film on the chalkboard.

” Who wants to check out their fingerprints”?

After a small chalk storm, all thirty students had pressed their fingertips on the board”.

Willard again, ” Hey teach what about our palms, do they only belong to me”?

” Great question Willard, that is tomorrow’s assignment”.

Willard again, ” hey teach are we going to do feet”?

Well I declare, we do think.

Be safe.

To my small gathering of followers, “I’m back”. To those of you who’s world has been turned upside down since March 13, 2020, raise your hand. Yes, mine is in the air as well. Since all the news is “doom and gloom” these days, I have a quick fix. From five o’clock to seven o’clock put your tread mill on extreme workout, grab an adult beverage and good book and listen to that bad boy run. Most of the time it will drown out CNN, Fox and ABC News.

Okay, German chocolate cake or for the cake aficionado G.C.C. Until recently I did not know my son loved G.C.C. as much as I do, must be a DNA thing. On a recent beach trip with the family my two daughters surprised us with a freshly baked G.C.C. I declare,” how thoughtful they would do this for me”. Also to my surprise, one of my granddaughters best friends admitted she to was a G.C.C. junkie. As the ” prize” was sitting in the cake plate, we hoovered over it like it was the Holy Grail. The three of us criticizing the cake hoping it would dissuade the other two on their share. ” The icing is to runny, one of the layers has a sad spot, it looks over baked”. There was a time my daughters threatened to duck tape the cake plate hoping the adult cake vultures would perch someplace else.

After dinner and some down time, the magic words were spoken, ” who wants cake”? I must admit on my part, I did show a lot of restraint not rushing the cake. Ladies and children first, then my son as I hummed ” The Eye Of the Tiger” ( from Rocky sequel 12 ), then me. (Here is a tip for the cake aficionado’s, be the last to cut your slice of cake. This way you can scrape the crumbs and icing left on the cake plate) After wonderful G.C.C with milk, me and my big mouth announced, ” G.C.C. is my favorite breakfast food”. Much to my dismay the other two G.C.C. vultures said the same thing, surprise surprise. The next day when I was about to leave, my two loving daughters had salvaged me two slices for the trip home. I think I heard one say, ” breakfast is on us”.

Be safe and keep the faith.

In some of my recent blogs I do have a tendency to get long winded. I attribute some of this to all the Baptist sermons from my upbringing and/or the sermons my mom referred to as she disciplined me. Discipline is being politically correct for a ” whupping”. Her words, not mine, ” Lord forgive me for this punishment ( whupping), but I did raise him to know better. We have all heard people say, ” The Lord spoke to me”. During one of my discipline sessions I thought I heard the Lord say, ” Right on Lou, proceed. Spare the rod and spoil the child”. Then I said, ” Lord , what about that 70 x 7 forgiveness issue in the Bible”? The Lord does answer prayers, however in this particular matter there was some delay getting back to mom.

Have you ever heard cliches or quotes that in today’s world seem so relevant? Here are a few that resonant with me, with my sidebar.

A. ” be careful what you wish for” Our next president

B. ” what was I thinking” I wish to God I could turn back the hands of time for five minutes.

C. ” good things happen to bad people, and bad things happen to good people” Personally, I never had much sympathy for a parent that abuses a child.

D. ” these are the times that try men’s souls” Coronavirus, racism, greed, politics that fail the common man, all lives matter.

E. ” how much is enough” What shall it profit man, if he gains the whole world and loses his soul.

F. ” always treat people the way you want to be treated” If questions, read “E” again.

G. ” those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it” Our current world crisis.

H. ” conscious, a sense of right and wrong with an urge to do right”. Never could understand how a televangelist worth millions could sleep at night after appealing to the poorest to plant a monetary seed to aide God’s work.

Just saying. Hope the new normal is doable.

Our spirits were high with the thoughts of a trip to Wrightsville Beach for seafood. At that time it was Fairclothes Seafood, more recent it was The Bridge Tender.

With two older sisters, one being smart enough to be a CIA operative. She knew all the right buttons to push if the opportunity required a favor to be called in. The other was a tom-boy that dared you to knock the chip off her shoulder. And was the mouthpiece to mom if things went sideways. As for me, my older sisters turned me into the guinea pig for “dare” and “double dare”. I still have the scars to prove the “dare’s and “double dare’s” that went wrong. Our trip to Wrightsville Beach was predicated on our behavior leading up to the Sunday trip.

Sunday finally arrived and we knew if dad passed the Clarkton Town Limit sign we were beyond ” the point of no return”. This was also the point and time our subdued good behavior took a back seat to normalcy. ” He’s crowding me, she just pinched me, are we there yet”? It only took one look from my mom’s piercing brown eyes to let you know you were treading on thin ice. The eleventh commandment in our house, ” Do not make your dad stop this car”.

At the break necking speed of thirty-five miles per hour ( dad was not an advocate of NASCAR or the fifty-five mile per hour speed limit ), we finally arrived at Fairclothes. After blessing the food, all you could hear was the consumption of Eastern NC’s finest shrimp, oysters, flounder, and hush puppies. With full stomach’s the return trip home would be less chaotic, or so we thought.

The November night had turned cold, with a steady rain. As we crossed the Cape Fear River Bridge the rain had turned into a fine drizzle. Two of the three siblings became bored and “yes” contrary. This was until we saw the Leland Town Limits sign. One sibling ( not mentioning names) yelled, ” Maco Light”, which was a short distance from Leland.

If you are not from these parts let me explain Joe Baldwin, and the Maco Light. Joe was an employee of Southern Railroad. He rode the tracks from Rockingham NC to Wilmington NC. On a cold rainy night at the Maco crossing Joe’s freight train developed engine trouble. Realizing there was another train bearing down on the tracks, Joe began to wave his distress lantern. The trains collided slamming a steel door across Joe’s neck severing his head. Rumor is Joe’s lantern landed upright, but the search crew never found his head. For years after the mishap, locals spoke of a strange light on the tracks. Joe was looking for his head.

In an effort to appease the restless, dad was bound and determined to expel the myth of Joe Baldwin. Apparently in an act of defiance our dad parked the little 55′ Ford directly on the tracks. Turning off the engine we waited, our eyes glued to the windows looking for the lantern. The steady drizzle clinging to the Spanish moss was straight out of Hollywood.

After fifteen minutes dad said, ” see I told you it was all a myth”. Before he got the last word out of his mouth my mom screamed, ” Wade, start the car the train is coming”. In horror, we looked East toward Wilmington. Coming directly toward us was a light approximately the size of large lantern. The light was moving in a slow arch giving a luminescence to the wet tracks. It was so close there was little to do except scream and fall to the floor board of the car. As we sped off the tracks waiting for the worst, the light disappeared as quickly as it appeared. The only sound was three whimpering children.

For the remainder of our trip home, there was little conversation. Mom returning to a degree of calm simply said, “There was a train coming down the tracks and it seemed closer than we thought”. End of discussion.

Many years have passed since that cold November night. There have been many things in my life that have made lasting impressions. 9/11, JFK’s assassination, UFO’s, That night lying in bed listening to the cold rain beating on the windows it is as vivid today as it was then. I had witnessed the ” Maco Light”.

Even I was a young whipper snapper when this song was made popular by Johnny Mercer in 1944. There is one verse from this song that resonates with me. ( For my young followers, as you get older you can remember a song from 1944, but do not ask me what I did one hour ago. ) Remember grey hair represents wisdom. As my granddaughters would reply, ” hahaha”- really?

The verse goes like this, ” You’ve got to accentuate the positive, eliminate the negative, and latch on to the affirmative, don’t mess with Mr. In-Between”.

Yes, Coronavirus is a monster and nothing to take lightly. However there is a POSITIVE. American pride and resolve are fighting back. Rather than dwell on the death rates, take time to ELIMINATE the NEGATIVE. What is that you say???. Americans are standing in front of hospitals at 7:00 a:m cheering on the doctors, nurses, first responders , and law enforcement that protects our safety. Teachers and educators working harder than ever making sure the youth of this nation are not huddled in a corner questioning ” what happened to my world”? Here are the silver linings. Neighborhoods are putting together make shift parades that shows more love than Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade, flags are being displayed and communities are more involved than the trauma of 9/11. Industry is retooling their manufacturing process’s producing face masks, hand sanitizer, ventilators and hospital gowns. Hunger has always been a major concern, but today truck loads of food are being supplied to those in need.

The next time you walk around you neighborhood, you cannot tell me everyone is not more friendly thinking ” We are all in this together”. Even the daily newscasters are ending their broadcast with a heart felt story of promise. After the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor, Admiral Isoroku Yamamoto of Japan made the famous statement, ” I fear all we have done is to awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with terrible resolve”. Folks that’s America he was talking about!!!!. DON’T MESS WITH MR. IN-BETWEEN. By the grace of God and America’s resolve, ” This Too Shall Pass”.

WOW!!! What a world we are currently living in. Unless you have been under a rock for the past few months it is hard to escape the reality of what corona virus has and is doing to the world. Since the invention of social media it only takes minutes to hear about terrorist attacks, earthquakes, school massacres, etc. We immediately think OMG, but it happened there and not here. Corona virus on the other hand has become the judge and juror for where to go and when to go. It is taking no prisoners. At first it was the elderly that was most susceptible to the virus. Then the Millennium’s , thinking they were invincible became the next age group the monster attacked. With exception of a few children , they seem less susceptible to the virus ( thank God–and I do). In the caverns of my mind from college Psychology 101, I do remember a term, ” mind over matter”. When the professor asked for comments, I responded “If you are half crazy already paranoia will take full control”. Not sure if he agreed or not, but I got my “C” and life was good. My opinion paranoia may be tougher to address than the virus itself. Thinking you may have the symptoms pushes the mental envelope even though you are otherwise perfectly healthy. I try not to over think the ramifications of the virus, but on the other hand I do follow the rules of the road. ( Is that an oxymoron ???).

Other than stay-at-home, wash your hands, and keep your social distance, there is no antidote at this time. God bless the medical profession, the first responders and those putting themselves in Harms Way to keep the world as safe as possible.

If there is a positive to be had from this world turning crisis it is family, friends, and neighbors. Yes, we get bored looking at the same family members, the same four walls, the same reruns, and wondering ” why can’t I go to Wal- Mart “? But then ( wait for it)————- the light bulb comes on and suddenly your creative juices kick in. You begin doing things that have been on the back burner for years. Painting, yard work, exercise, reading, cooking ( even here) , assisting a preschool teacher to fine tune her ZOOM presentation. And yes, helping this old guy balance this blog with pictures. Isn’t it time to stop and smell the roses?? Not necessarily flowers, but thankful for life itself. As desperate as times are “The Man Upstairs” still provides us with a world of simple and beautiful pleasures. Allow me to share a few of those pleasures that before the Monster were taken for granted.

I think I am correct, but it is my understanding when interviewing for employment the employer cannot ask your religious preference. Since my interviewing days are well behind me, I can declare I was raised as a Baptist. One of my mom’s favorite sayings ” Once a Baptist always a Baptist”. My mom being a staunch believer, there was no room for discussion in this matter. God forbid you interrupted her when discussing religion with a “but, but”. Her soft brown eyes became lasers. My dad had the maturity to excuse himself to the front porch to enjoy a chew of Red Man tobacco without being forced into an amen from the brown laser eyes.

If it was Sunday and unless you were comatose, it was Sunday School and preaching. My mother taught a Sunday School class so my two sisters and I could feel her presence even though she was two doors down. Unlike Las Vegas “what happened in the Sunday School class did not stay in the Sunday School class”. Our Sunday School teacher had what was referred to as a “sentence prayer”. She would call on a random person to begin the prayer and then proceed around the room, each child giving a short prayer. When it came my turn I was in “lala” land and simply said amen. The class erupted in laughter. My teacher, being the God fearing person she was threw me under the bus quicker than a drug addict helping you look for the wallet he just stole. Some advise to young Baptist children. If your mother has laser eyes regarding religion, do not make the same mistake I made on numerous occasions. Quote, ” mom can you just spank me and not preach at the same time”? All you are doing is doubling down on the spanking and the Bible verses ” spare the rod and spoil the child”. I think my mom had her Bible bookmarked on that scripture for easy referencing.

I do have a vivid memory of one such event that even to this day I cannot help but laugh. It was the ritual of baptizing into the Baptist Church. In the Baptist Church you are submerged in the baptismal pool located directly behind the pulpit. Peepsie was the lady to be baptized. Her name was indicative of her body type, tall and willowy. I was in my most reverent mood as Peepsie entered the pool being aided by the pastor. As she entered the pool her pleated frock rose to the top like a parachute opening. As she attempted to gain her composure with the frock, the pastor lost his balance and both went under the water. The next body part to appear was Peepsie’s two bare feet sticking straight up in the air. My sister made reference to the Thanksgiving turkey. As sacred as this ritual is, even God had a slight smile on His face. Yes, I lost it and of course paid the piper later.

I have many fond memories of my Baptist upbringing. One was my mother’s faith in her maker. Secondly, my sisters and I knew better than to let our behavior become the talk of the church. On my part, that was difficult at times. My explanation of ” the devil made me do it” soon ran its course. Let me be clear, by no means am I being blasphemous toward any religion or doctrine. For me a person’s belief is personal. If they want to share it, that is their prerogative. I do believe God has a sense of humor, otherwise Christmas lights would never get tangled and husbands would be right some of the time.

Aretha Franklin —R-E-S-P-E-C-T

Being raised in a small Southern town there was an unwritten code of conduct that within reason almost hung under the Ten Commandments in the church: RESPECT. In this order, family, pastors/law enforcement, teacher, and the elderly. As a young boy I was quick to learn the terms ” yes ma’am and yes sir”.

Having taught seven years in the North Carolina Public School System, I felt teaching still made the “C” list…….WRONG. In my previous blog I eluded to Abe Lincoln’s quote, ” some of the people some of the time”, etc. A truer statement could not be said about “my” teaching experiences. Emphasis on “my”. For the record, in those seven years my life crossed paths with some of the most wonderful, unique educators and students I still remember to this day.

Why teaching you say ???? In my early twenties as an educator I envisioned being an Aristotle, Vince Lombardi, and John F. Kennedy all wrapped up into one personality. Now that you have stopped laughing, let me continue. All of you ( I hope) are familiar with the WWJD ( if not— What Would Jesus Do) bracelets. That was somewhat my approach teaching. One day your ego is so inflated because you think I have broken their (students) shell. The next day you think, ” is this the same class from yesterday”? Totally deflated with that “deer in the headlights” stare. During the mid-sixties ( BBG–Before Bill Gates)you had three levels of students: those who wanted to learn, those who might learn, and those who could care less about learning. WHAT MUST I DO, WHAT MUST I DO?? With all that diversity in a class room you do what any red bloodied teacher would do, have a mock trial.

No Mildred do not turn down the T.V. , the boy said mock trial. Mildred heard correctly. We had a judge, jury, attorneys, witnesses, a crime, and reporters with updates every day. I in my infinite wisdom appointed the judge. Willard was the toughest, take no crap from anyone personality in the class. After a one-on-one with Willard letting him know the duties of the judge, it resonated with him like a winning field goal in the closing seconds of the super bowl. For once in his hard upbringing life, he did not need to fight for respect. In a mock up trial in a high school in the mid-sixties with a gavel in hand Willard was given respect. My tough guy played the role of judge that still makes me tear up a little. For a short period of time Willard was Aristotle, Lombardi, and JFK. Me too.

Side note: There has never been a teacher that did not have memorable moments in the class room. Mine came during a class on North Carolina history. We were studying a colonial governor by the name of Gabriel Johnston. I had a student that was close to a failing grade, so being the softy I am we made a deal. Wendell was to do a paper on Gabriel Johnston for extra credit. Two days later Wendell was prepared to give his report. The first sentence out of his mouth was, ” Gabriel was an archangel”. Yep, you got it. Wendell overlooked the last name of the governor. In my most militaristic voice I announced Wendell is giving us a report on Gabriel the archangel. Without a hitch Wendell proceeded to read his paper on Gabriel. At the end of the report with quizzical looks all around, we said amen and thanked Wendell for the spiritual uplifting. He did get his extra credit and passed the class with a resounding 70 or D or what ever grade that would relate to in today’s world of education.