The Baxley News-Banner - Columns

The friendly skies

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 15 May 2013 12:44:57 -0500

I hate to fly but my wife and I walked into Jacksonville International Airport last Thursday morning at 3 am. It was 73 degrees. I checked our luggage and told the handler I had a pistol in one bag, all legal, of course, unloaded and in a locked box and all that. Then we had to go through the body scan and Anne went through first, then me. I shut the place down as buzzers and bells went off. They took me aside and swabbed a white cloth patch across my hand. I knew I was in trouble right then because I had test fired the pistol earlier that morning. Sure enough, more buzzers went off. When I finally got out of wrist bracelets and leg shackles, I was allowed to proceed. When I finally found Anne, she pretended not to know me, even going so far as to swap seats with someone else so I could not sit with her. That is until we got to Sioux Falls later that day. Then she was proud to know me again.
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Remembering Cardy Edmundson

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 15 May 2013 12:38:02 -0500

I had heard of Cardy Edmundson and had met him at Annual Conferences and various places around the Conference. He was quite well known in the South Georgia Conference, had a reputation for being a faithful and dedicated servant of the Lord. He was a busy District Superintendent but he always had the time to shake hands and smile and say an encouraging word.
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New friends, old friends

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 08 May 2013 08:41:13 -0500

I was in the grocery store the other day when I felt the presence of a Spirit from my youth. I turned around and caught Jerry Lee Braswell sneaking up on me. He started laughing and grabbed my hand and we embraced like the friends we are. Jerry Lee is only one of the many black men this white man respects and knows well.
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Doctor’s Visit

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 08 May 2013 08:39:45 -0500

Expectantly, he sat on the examining table gazing at the door with steady, unblinking eyes. The smell of antiseptic hung in the air, and a male assistant stood beside him to make sure the elderly patient didn’t fall. A scale waited directly in front of him to report on his eating habits. A variety of pill bottles, some horse-sized and some much smaller, sat on a shelf beside the roll of gauze. He could hear the receptionist who’d greeted him as he came in talking on the phone down the hall.
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Into the Alaska Wilderness

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 08 May 2013 08:37:58 -0500

Twenty-one hours of daylight in Alaska makes it difficult for a south Georgia couple to discern between “early” and “late.” However, B. J. and I excitedly rolled out of our comfortable king size bed at the pleasing Fairbanks Westmark Hotel at 5:00am. We pulled back the heavy smut black drapes to observe the sun shining outside.
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Why newspapers matter to newspaper people

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 08 May 2013 08:36:01 -0500

By Jim Zachary

The newspaper belongs to the community.

Your friends and neighbors who work at your local newspaper believe what we do everyday is more than a job. We believe what we do matters. That is why we love what we do and that is why we love newspapers.
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Mr. Young

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 10:39:50 -0500

I was walking to the mailbox yesterday to see if the IRS had any more requests to make of me. The Postal Service is having a row about mail delivery on Saturday. I was wishing Saturday was the only day they did deliver. I was barefooted. I had been in the garden pulling the newly sprouted thistles of whatever part of Hades they come from. When I tired of that I started to the mailbox. As I was slowly and painfully making my way across those gravel rocks I saw a small pickup coming, pulling a small boat. The truck pulled up and stopped right next to me. An elderly gentleman leaned toward me and started right in giving explanation why he stopped.
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No fowl language, please

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 10:38:40 -0500

Frequently, my husband broaches the subject of chickens—not just as a conversational tidbit, but as in raising them, feeding them and collecting their eggs, protecting them from the packs of wild dogs that roam every path and by-way of Pine Grove. Larry’s eyes take on that longing look as he gazes backward to his farm-boy childhood. He sees the farm fresh eggs of free range chickens. He smells the big platters of fried chicken on his mama’s Sunday dinner table. My eyes, on the other hand, take on a panicky look as I gaze back to my more urban youth.
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A fundelicious Saturday

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 24 Apr 2013 10:37:25 -0500

B. J. and I sleepily unwrapped ourselves from the covers of our warm, soft bed and rolled onto the carpet early. It took a few minutes to shake our drowsiness. We shed our nighties and slipped into the shower. Saturday was a special day.
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The great gun debate

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 08:53:00 -0500

For the most part I have tried to shy away from the gun debate ongoing in our great country. As a parent of two young boys, I can’t imagine the grief the families of Newtown have faced since that tragedy transpired in that quaint community. But I have to ask, guns…are they the real issue? Or could it be an issue with our society in general?
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Come back, Spring!

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 08:51:57 -0500

Spring ran through our yard, panting like Charlie after we’ve played ball with him, and before I had a chance to lie in the hammock or sit in the swing, Summer barreled right in. The azaleas, the spirea, the dog woods, the pear trees, assorted wild flowers, and a variety of weeds are blooming and I love looking at them—even most of the weeds are pretty. Petunias are popping up everywhere, thanks to the birds, but I like petunias and birds. I have so many orange canna lilies coming up that I’ll have to thin them, and I do hate to throw away a good flower. Maybe some one will stop by and want some. I love all the signs of spring, but the temperatures are screaming, “SUMMER!” Last week our thermometer climbed very close to 90 degrees for several days. Next week promises more of the same. And so the perpetual southern summer begins.
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Our fierce culture

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 08:50:52 -0500

The recent massacre at Sandy Hook school in Newtown, Connecticut has aroused, as expected, a rush of concern and heated debate revolving around gun control. As the sensationalism of Sandy Hook ebbs like the tide, so will our righteous rage, that is, until the next such tragedy comes to the fore.
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Leading by example…Oh the pain!

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 09:00:06 -0500

This past week my two sons, Cole and Jacob, attended a wakeboard camp in Florida. For those not familiar with the sport, wakeboarding is a type of water sport such as skiing or kneeboarding.
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Restriction!

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 08:58:58 -0500

When we arrived in Clarksville to spend Spring Break with our three youngest grandsons, I handed Trey, Jakey, and Will bags of Easter candy since we had not been there for their Easter activities. Their faces plummeted.
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Gator Preston

nospam@example.com (Staff Writer) — Wed, 10 Apr 2013 08:57:52 -0500

Last spring, I was feeding the fish from my dock and saw a small gator come up and begin eating the floating fish food. I started grunting like a baby gator to see if another one would pop up. It did. Scared the crap out of me when I turned around and there he was. I don’t have a witness but I am sure I made it off this fifty-foot dock in about 4 steps. After catching my breath and calming down, rather than shoot the creature, I called the erstwhile gator trapper extraordinaire, “Gator” Preston. They say Gator can trap or snare anything from a bullfrog to a buffalo so I figured he was the man for the job.
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