Columns

I was in a meeting recently and they made the mistake of feeding us a nice lunch after the morning session. Later, when the meeting resumed, I started getting sleepy and I fought with all my strength to stay awake. I would close my eyes for a moment, not wanting the others to know I was sleeping, and then, when my head would drop, jerk up wide eyed like there was nothing wrong with me. I pinched myself, slapped myself, then got up and got a cup of coffee, which did no good at all. As soon as I was seated again my eyes closed, my head would drop and the battle to stay awake would begin all over again. I was miserable and I can sympathize with the man in the following story. [Full Story »] 

Calvin, Julie, and Josh packed up the Durango in the rain last night for the trip back to Atlanta. Trey, Jakey, and Will had their packs filled with essential toys and books slung on their backs and ready for the word from Mama to load. They left in the pouring rains from Tropical Storm Debby, but probably ran out of it before Dublin. Anyway, they arrived as safe and sound as possible after such a trip. It was wonderful to have the family all home for a weekend. It was also boisterous, rowdy, animated, and several other explicit adjectives. But Larry and I enjoyed the weekend, as well as the two-week visit with the grandchildren. [Full Story »] 

I helped my 88-year-old Mother put up corn the other day and I do believe it was the prettiest I have ever seen; 50 quarts creamed and 20-gallon bags on the cob. I thought we had enough but I was wrong. Somebody called her that night and said they had some corn ready and being one of the old school she did not want a single kernel to go to waste. So we put up more the next morning. I hope we have enough now. [Full Story »] 

“Grandma, Grandma, look. Grandpa’s got a punkin’ from the garden,” three-year-old Will shouted excitedly. “Can we have a punkin’ pie? It’s my favorite.”

I’m not sure I’ve ever made a pumpkin pie in June before, but there’s always a first time for everything, or so my wise father used to tell me, and he, too, was rather fond of punkin’ pie. [Full Story »] 

Uncle Three Sheets, the greatest fisherman that ever lived, used to tell this story. He said he was fishing and came across a large moccasin with a huge bullfrog in its jaws. Knowing the frog was good bass bait; he reached down, grabbed the snake, pried the frog loose and threw it in the live well. Now he had to figure out how to dislodge the snake that had coiled around his arm. He pulled his bottle of Early Times from a back pocket and poured a big swig into the snake’s mouth. The snake swallowed and immediately uncoiled from around Uncle Three Sheets arm and hung loosely down. Uncle Three Sheets threw the snake up on the bank and continued fishing. He said that about thirty minutes later he felt a tug at his ankle and looked down and there was that snake again. This time the snake had two frogs in his mouth. [Full Story »] 

I struggled my way through childhood in Hazlehurst over on Gill Street in what is now a parking lot. As a matter of fact, my sister Sarah Nell likes to tell people that we grew up in a parking lot—not entirely true, but close to one even then. After hours and on weekends, we rode our bikes in the parking lots of what everyone in town called the slip factory. I’m sure it had an official name, but I can’t remember now what it was. I even worked in that factory for a while when I was older, cashed checks from there, but the factory’s real name escapes me. [Full Story »] 

I miss many things about the ‘old days’ but there is one thing I miss more than the rest; quail hunting. I couldn’t sleep for a week prior to the season opening for sheer excitement and anticipation of seeing the dogs point. [Full Story »]