Bluegrass
Opinion
Service calls

Service calls

When you grow up in a Southern church, you learn how things are done. And how they’re not done. Some kids learn early. Some kids never get it. Bethel Missionary Baptist Church was a small, white frame structure. Like many churches of mid-20th Century America, it was...

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Bluegrass

Which is more powerful, influence or authority?

We’re solidly into an election season where people are making plenty of claims regarding how they are more of an authority on issues. They suppose being an authority or having authority is a winning track.  What if authority isn’t the greatest asset for a leader?...

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Remember to remember

How good is your memory? I remember many years ago laughing at my grandmother because she would leave one room and go into another and forget why she went into that room. Well, I’m not laughing anymore because I often experience that myself nowadays! It’s a normal...

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What I learned from smoking

I’d always wanted to do it, but I’ve just felt a little insecure about it. I stood with friends as they did it, talking to other friends who also did it. It’s like they had a connection that I was on the outside of. I smelled of their smoke, I heard their stories, but...

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What drives us

Not so long ago, you could tell quite a bit about someone by the car they drove. If someone drove a sensible vehicle, such as a small sedan, they were frugal and wanted to make sure their family enjoyed comfort during their travels. If someone drove a big red sports...

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Making out like a bandit

I don’t remember a time when Burt Reynolds wasn’t around. That is until he passed away a few years ago. When Gunsmoke was one of the biggest shows on television, Burt played the town blacksmith, Quint Asper. It was a character I noticed because my grandfather and...

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Under the chinaberry tree

My grandparents lived modestly. Most from their generation did. It wasn’t a choice. It was necessity. My grandmother and grandfather were teens when the depression hit, so instead of enjoying their formative years, they worked to eat. They worked to survive. I heard a...

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Delayed joy

Delayed joy

Crucifixion might be the worst form of torture to ever be dreamed up in the imagination of deranged men. The process was slow and agonizing. It was intended to squeeze every ounce of life out of its participant and maximize each painful moment. Agony, through the...

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What my friend taught me

Chris Taylor was police officer in Wylie. He was a husband, father, and grandfather. He was distinguished as a friend to many. Too me, he was more than a friend. He was also my life partner. I wasn’t ready to say “Goodbye” to my friend. Years ago, I had taken Chris to...

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