Ukulele Orchestra

This is probably the greatest video I've ever come across on YouTube. I would love to hear these guys in concert. This group is called the Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britian. I became an immediate fan.

gina topless

This is a sad but sweet little picture. Believe it or not, Gina remembers this photo being taken. She said her dad took this picture. She said he put her on the hood of his car to take the photograph and didn't think that the hood was HOT! Hence the tears. To this day Gina remembers how hot that hood was.

I get frequent comments from people that our children look like both of us. It's true. You can look at my childhood photos and see the strong family resemblance. You can also see our daughters in little Gina's crying face as well. When I hear these frequent comments, I respond by saying, "it's no wonder, seeing how Gina and I are not just husband and wife - but brother and sister as well." I get the weirdest looks.

I am just kidding of course.

the pizza yen

Poor Gina. Ever since I've been on this strict diet to get my numbers down, she's suffered with me. We haven't had a pizza in over a month and Gina was talking about pizza all day. I told her several times to go ahead and go get one with the girls but she didn't want to do it. She kept talking pizza - pizza- pizza. She tried calling around town to see if there was a place that made a wheat crust pizza. Finally, Pizza Hut said that they had a wheat pizza called The Natural Pizza. We packed the girls in the car and drove that way after work. When we got there they server told us that the wheat bread was in the freezer and if we wanted to order something else. Rather than leaving, we said we'd wait for them to de-thaw it. I never was a fan of wheat pizza or wheat pasta, but I liked the idea of having a pizza for a change. I was surprised how good The Natural really was. No, it was a big ol'greasy pizza - but it satisfied my pizza tooth. Gina liked the pizza as well. We did not care as much for the Rustica, but the vegetable was pretty darn good.

bruce lee on my shoulder

I have to mention a friend that I haven't seen for a very long time. James Harp was a pal I knew in Boy Scouts (Troop 54) as well as school. We were very close. His family moved out of the school district and he ended up attending Etowah High School in Attalla. I missed having my friend around. James was good guy - a real bona-fide good guy. It didn't matter if he knew someone or not - he'd jump into a fight just to defend the little guy. I also saw him step between kids who were about to fight - playing the peacemaker. I don't recall anyone not liking James. I don't recall anyone messing with or getting the best of him. Looking back, I think the guy was trying to be a little John Wayne.

James was an unusual fellow. He once showed me his hands. They were tough and hard - like rock. He told me that he toughened them by hitting cinder blocks. I think he said he learned that trick from Bruce Lee or something. By the time James was in high school, he'd muscled up from lifting weights. He was a force to be reckoned with, but I rarely saw him angry. He was always cutting-up and joking around - people liked him. As I said, he was a good guy.

One thing James did for me was to teach me how to get the upper hand in a fight. If you can find a way to get a guy off balance and off his feet - you could best him. If you could get him down, you could keep him down. Did I mention that James was a wrestler? I remember one night he came up to the house and showed me some quick moves to bring someone down fast. It was a simple move that literally swept someone off their feet. I don't know where in the world James learned all that he had learned about self defense - but he sure did - and I am glad he did.

So - James Harp came to my rescue me on several occasions and wasn't even there. Thanks James.

the day i ran out of cheeks

A.J. posted a note on facebook that brought back some unpleasant memories.

I believe I was in ninth grade. I remember having to deal with two kinds of bullying - those from blacks and those from whites. I didn't settle the black issue until I was a junior in high school, but the bullying stopped from whites when I was in ninth.

I considered myself a Christian, and did my best to go day to day "turning the other cheek" when a jerk came up to make sport of me. One thing about being a Christian as a kid, you are an easy mark. People don't think you'll defend yourself, you'll take the beating and they'll walk away feeling all good about themselves. I don't know why, but they did. So much in fact, they'd keep coming back for more. It was a different matter if I saw someone else being picked on - I'd jump in. I don't recall anyone ever jumping in for me, but I thought it was my duty as a Christian to take the vicious blows.

The day the bullying ended for me was in a math class. The teacher had this habit of giving an assignment and then leaving the room to go smoke, gossip, and scratch her butt in the teacher's lounge. You could pretty much count on her being absent for most of her class. She'd call roll, give (or not give) and assignment and then walk out until a few minutes before the class period was over.

Anyway, I was assigned a seat in the back of the room with a bunch of rough characters. This guy behind me decided that he was going to show off in front of his pals and whack me upside the head with a text book - and did. It hurt like hell. I turned and asked him to stop. With a smile on his face and sarcasm in his voice, he said he was sorry. I turned back around knowing what was going to happen next. WHAM! He slammed his book into the other side of my head. My ears were ringing and I tried to keep the tears back. I turned back around and told him to please stop. He gave me the same answer and he and the other guys laughed. Again, I knew what was going to happen next as I turned back around. I prayed "God, I've run out of cheeks."

WHAM!

I turned around and made direct eye contact. He was still laughing and already in the process of telling me how sorry he was again. I grasped the front of his desk and tipped it over with him in it. His laughter stopped as he frantically tried to wiggle out of his overturned desk. There was only one way out of that desk and I was standing there. I wore my Dingo boots back then. I kicked the crap out of him until he wept and cried for me to stop. I don't know why I stopped. I was in a boot kicking angry stomp dancing mood, I don't even know why I stopped. I looked up as he whimpered and I saw the entire class looking at me in disbelief. I guess I took every ounce of pain caused by every bully I'd ever encountered out on that guy. Before he got up, I told him that if he ever touched me again I'd kill him.

He never touched me again. Nobody, white that is, ever touched me again. I spent the rest of my stint in junior high without anyone laying a hand on me. It was a great relief to earn a healthy (my health) respect for those who got their self esteem by beating the crap out of someone they perceived as weaker. From then on - if someone was going to try to make me feel pain - they would soon realize that they were at risk of experiencing pain too. I found that when I did get in fights (that I never started) I would fight minus any hate. I fought because I realized that it wasn't doing the bad guy any good to let him have his evil way. I fought because there was a lesson in it for him too. Bad boys were no longer going to get away with it...or at least they were not going to get away with it without it costing them something.

Isn't that a terrible lesson for a kid to have to learn in school? I forget that it's a different world being a kid.

Cindy Cindy

Yesterday, Sunday, was my younger sister Cindy's birthday. I'll be nice and gentlemanly and not mention her age. It's a blessing to go to church with Cindy - he voice - her worship - is from her very core. God bless you sister. May you find more freedom in this new year. May God bless you this year and bring you the very thing that has been prophesied over you. You pour out you heart and life to all those around and we are all blessed by your being in our lives.

little feet

Florrie misunderstood what car I meant. She thought that I meant the little blue pedal car. I went out and found a few pictures of it. I am pretty sure the car was originally a gift to me - but gosh darn it - I grew to where I could not longer fit my legs in it. I remember trying to go down hill with it with my legs straddling the sides - but that wasn't any fun. The only way to stop was to aim for a pine tree. Florrie once learned very early about stopping a car with a pine tree. I don't know how old she was - but she was a wee thing. She climbed into a real car parked in our drive and got behind the wheel. Little Florrie played with it until she got it out of gear and took the car for a short spin. One spin. The car went down hill and the car hit the tree. That poor pine lived, but always had a place where the car stopped abruptly.

Anyway, back to the pedal car. I vaguely remember the car. I remember it turning to rust because we it was left outside all the time like a real car. Gina and I ended up with her older brother Terry's pedal car. Years ago I found it in an old shack behind Mrs. Hale's house. Gina and I eventually adopted it and paid a pretty penny to bring it back to it's former glory. It's a much nicer car than what I had as a kid. It's only been outdoors a few times. The last occasion was about seven years ago - J. Holland and I used it in a television commercial for Boaz Outlets.

I don't know what ever happened to that car. Well - I do know - it rusted away and was discarded. I ounce ran across a little navy blue pedal car (like the one I had) in a Bowling Green, KY antique mall. It was kind of rusty but was the same model. I never saw another one since. Most of those who know me know that I've collected a lot of old stuff. I've gotten to a place in life where I've let a lot of it go. I'd love to have those things but most of the items I like are really big and not too practical to keep. I do like pedal cars and happy with the one I've got. Katie outgrew the one we have (Terry's) a long time ago. Kelsey likes to go downstairs and drive around in it. Her legs fit in there fine and I know that it won't be long before they no longer will. Enjoy those little feet while you can little one. They will take you places that mine no longer let me.

mini me

Strange, I remember that little red truck. I think I had a little blue one too that I'd swap out the wheels between the two toys. I also remember the swing set being in the backyard - before it was moved the the side of the house. My back is to the house because I can see dad sitting in a chair on the patio in the back ground. I look at this photo of mini-me and don't see me as much as I see my daughter Kelsey. Kelsey is six years old and into little cars big time. She likes making things with her hands and draws all the time. She's very imaginative and likes to make people laugh. She surprises me from time to time and even does impersonations. I am glad she's a little mini-me. I just pray she doesn't go through what I did. Well, at least I need to watch out for and pray against. Growing up, surviving pubic education, I felt like I was the odd child out. I don't want either of my children to experience that lost world. I do feel pretty good about Kelsey (Katie too). She's already reading little books and enjoys all her schooling. I do believe she's got both hemispheres of her brain firing all synapses.

baptized

I was singing a lot back in 1992 and 1993 than I think I'd ever sung before. Gina encouraged me to record some of my songs and God gave me new songs as production began. I was even dropping songs during the production as new songs came to me. Nori Kelley had helped me pull together the STAND cd and I was out there with it. I didn't know why I was out there, but I was just being obedient. In 93, my then neighbor and still good friend Donnie Obermiller asked me if I had ever been baptized. He said I really ought to.

Baptism was something that I always thought about doing but never did. I never had a strong connection with a church. I grew up around the United Methodist - but baptism wasn't really a priority around those that I were around. Kind of strange, because people were all dunked like doughnuts in the New Testament. Nevertheless, it was something that I had thought about from time to time. I told Gina about the conversation with Donnie. Gina said "let's go".

I knew it as soon as Donnie mentioned it that it was indeed time for me to do something about it. Three things came to mind - I knew God wanted me to do this soon - that I was 33 years old (the age held a significance to me) - and I wanted my old friend Doug Moore to do it. Doug has been a friend of mine since the late seventies, from the old Christian Brothers days. We used to play a lot together. By 1993 he was pastor of a church in Tennessee. Doug said come on down. I don't remember the day - the time of year - but it was cold. It was real cold - and so was the water in the borrowed swimming pool. Doug had a generous couple in their congregation that said I could use their pool.

There was nothing dramatic about the event - no angels sang - no great emotional experience - no personal revelations. I was just being obedient. Most of my life is that way. I guess it's the same with most folk. We hear something and know that we need to follow through. Even though the heavens didn't open up that day - it was still a milestone event in my life - freezing in the ice cold water - as a few people stood by the pool side - there being prayed over and baptized by an old friend. It was a good day.

Angus Westbrook Finlayson

A little is known of Angus Westbrook Finlayson. We know that he was a seaman. On the back of this picture there is an inscription Capt. A.W. Finlayson. A young Angus "Brook" lost his leg when he fell overboard a spice ship while on watch. He was lost at sea for four days and his leg was eaten by a dolphin. Usually this kind of thing happens with sharks, but this incident was worse than if a shark had attacked. Sharks as you know have very large mouths and very sharp teeth which make quick and massive damage. During shark attack, human prey often don't realize they've lost a leg because the bite is so quick. Dolphins on the other hand don't have mouths that are as wide and teeth that are as razor sharp. To be attacked by a dolphin means that you are slowly tortured - because all they can do is jab and nibble. Angus survived his attack and grew to be an old salt. He learned to make good use of the ship's lathe and fashioned his own peg leg.

At the age of 58, Angus Brook lost his other leg when he fell overboard yet again while trying to swab the deck during a storm. He was known for keeping a very tighty ship and preferred swabbing during storms. It makes sense that the water washing aboard helped loosen grime between the cracks of the ship's decking. The poor soul this time did not lose his leg to dolphin or shark, but to a school of rabid seawater goldfish that thought they were sharks. It took those determined goldfish nine days to eat most of his leg. Angus eventually became frustrated and angry and cut the leg off using his own pocket knife, surrendering it to goldfish.

Angus Brook was always one to make the best of a bad situation and quickly went about turning himself a matching peg. Some time after losing the second leg, he decided to build fine looking railing for the ship to keep from being washed overboard ever again. It is said that Angus Westbrook Finlayson became a talented dancer and his peg-tapping and mouth harp playing could be heard across the bay as he jigged aboard his ship at night when ever he was on watch. No, Angus never was washed overboard again, he died in a tragic lathing accident due to poor eye sight when he was an old man. He was buried at sea - not too far from Goldfish Reef.