They poured what?

Tonight will be much ado about nothing. It's getting late now and Tilena is already asleep. Ryan is doing schoolwork and I'm not sure I want to know exactly what Nick is doing. I've been off work now for two and a half days and beginning to go stir crazy. Sitting awake like this does have its benefits though. One of my greatest pleasures in life is watching Tilena sleep and hearing her softly breathing. Sometimes I purposely lie awake just to listen to her in the dark.

Bowden, Pepper and I have just finished out nightly cereal ritual. For years Bowden has waited on me to finish my nightly bowl of cereal. He can be sound asleep when I open that box and he will appear out of the blue. He knows the left over milk...2% these days just for his benefit...is all his. It didn't take ole Pepper long to pick up on that though. He's fully attuned now and every bit as vigilant as Bowden. We just split the same amount of milk three ways instead of two.

Not that the topic will interest anyone, but there is a football game on the t.v. right now and it brought the matter to my mind. People are so vastly different dependent upon their geographic location. I mean...to be so much alike in many ways...we can be so different in other ways. Here's the deal. Almost anywhere you go, you'll find a college football fan. But have you ever taken the time to notice how differently they behave based upon the venue? Now I've been to football games in a lot of different places. Tallahassee (surprise), Gainesville (yuck), Jacksonville, Atlanta, Sanford Stadium (it's not in Atlanta mind you), Orange Bowl (and Dolphin Stadium), Blacksburg Va., Charlottesville Va., Auburn and even once in Valdosta (I don't know why). But the thing is, they all seem to have their own rules of(or lack thereof) conduct. I've watched the Noles play against the Virginia Calilers in Charlottesville and I don't think the people there even knew a game was going on. I've seen the students at Florida Field dump beer bottles filled with urine on opposing teams going in at halftime. I've seen many many times the fans in Tallahassee not come into the stadium until the second quarter...they still do that for some reason. But without a doubt..and I say this without malice, but with first hand experience...the most beligerent, obnoxious, rude, ill mannered ball fans I've ever encountered anywhere were Penn State fans. And it wasn't even in their stadium. I'm not sure what makes them the way they are...but they are terribly rude and poorly behaved as a group. And get this...they call their stadium "Happy Valley" There has got to be some good reason for all this...Maybe I would be unhappy too having to survive Pennsylvania winters and New Yorkers for neighbors. More likely though, its just the embarrassment of having Philadelphia as part of their state.

I know this was probably the most aimless post I've ever made, but it was following an aimless mind. I'm going to let it go for now. I'm trying to do this in the dark so that I don't wake T-Bug. I'm a seeker peeker (I have to look at the keys to type) and I'm having a hard time of it in the dark. Maybe more tomorrow.

Seek the King, Serve Him Gladly.

Don & Co.

Bowden's Baby Mama

Meet Sandy Everyone....daughter of Ricky's Silver Rocket and Carla's Little Katie. She's a nine month old purebreed. When she's ready, we hope for her to be the future Bowden's Baby Mama.

Her most recent family bought her as a six week old, and just weren't prepared or knowledgeable in the ways of the Grey Ghost. It's not a breed of dog for everyone. Certainly not for the first time dog owner. They're wild as a sprayed cockroach as puppies...and the puppy stage last for 2-3 years. But, if you're up for it, tough enough, and smarter than the dog. You'll be rewarded with the most loyal of all breeds. A fearless guardian and constant companion. Tilena and I have owned or been owned by a Weimaraner most of our marriage and well versed in the nature of these most beautiful of canines. They've just got bats in their belfry.

Of course it didn't take long for me to find a home for her. The deal is for the new owner to hold off spaying her until she is old enough to meet Bowden for that most special of dates. Then we'll choose a perfect home for the pick of the litter. She's spending the night with us (well supervised of course) in order for them to become aquainted with each other. No need in wasting time on formalities when the "time is right". I've waited on neutering him for years in the hopes of finding that perfect someone for him one day.

She's about 50 lbs (almost grown for a female and about 60% of Bowden's weight at the same age) She will top out around 65-70 lbs...about average for a female. Bowden is very large even for a male. Most boys mature at about 85 lbs. Bowdie boy weighed in at 105 lbs at his Vet's visit last week...I've had him on a diet and he's dropped about 10 lbs. over the last year. There aren't many people who rate higher on my list than Bowden....most of those live or have lived under the same roof with me. I have just not found many people who offer as much and ask so little.

It's a shame we already have two dogs (one watch dog and one guard dog) or we would now have two guard dogs. See the difference in a watch dog and a guard dog is quite simple. Pepper (watch dog) wakes me up and says "there's something outside...I'll wait here while you go check it out". On the other hand Bowden (guard dog) who wakes me up and says "there's something outside...you wait here and I'll go eat it".

Hope you all have a great day. If you don't have a dog, you're missing out on one of God's great blessings. If you do...go give him a hug.

Don and Company


Palm trees and Sand.......................

Rats in the Corn

I want to apologize in advance, this is not the most politically correct or sensitive post I've ever written, but my patience is growing thin. Tilena will chastise me over this and my Pastor will just shake his head. I ask your forgiveness in advance if this offends you. If you're a Democrat....just quit reading right now. You will be offended. But then again, you've deeply offended me for years..........

I'm just sort of hanging out today. I've got quite a bit of time built up and I just as well use some of it. Tilena is up in Ocala for a couple of days. Penny (my mother-in-law) fell Sunday and fractured her hip. She will be having surgery today. The whole thing sort of surprsed me. Penny is only 75 and keeps herself in fit condition. You would NEVER think she was anywhere near 75 to look at her. She is a very attractive, petite and active woman. That's good news in my mind for the years to come. Please keep her in your prayers. I would really like to have her come stay with us...at least through her rehab period. I've tried for years to get her to come live with us. She's just so much fun to have around.

I'm going to start working on my face, neck and scalp this week. I'll have to take off the next three weeks. I can't get even a brief shot of sunlight on my skin during this period. Its a painful and messy process to go through, but its just something I'm going to have to do every 2-3 years as long as I live.

The news on t.v. is so depressing. I'm holding out hope and continued prayer for our country during this election season. But I'm afraid the "rats are already in the corn". Every time I seem to have a good day, something comes along to remind me of the ill wind blowing across our country. What would you say if I told you I was coming home this week from work and saw a local woman who had put her Barack Hussein Obama sign out. What would you say about someone who already gets a government stipend of our tax money worth more than I earn each year because she belongs to a particular race? What if that person also gets more than $100,000.00 each year from the gambling casino simply because of her "ethnicity"? What if that woman was all of twenty five years old, had no job, doesn't want a job and receiving over $200,000.00 annually because she's a member of a particular ethnic group? Now what if that same woman had the unmitigated gall to want to "share my wealth" some more? See, this socialistic "share the wealth" program won't come from her pocket because she's in a "protected group". Barack Hussein Obama wants to give here even more of our money. What if now she was entitled to get more and more for every offspring she produced?. How do you give 90% of the population a tax cut when 40% of the population doesn't pay taxes to start with? Hey, Democrats for Obama "Welfare Wagon" Hussein Obama... If that's not buying votes, nothing is. I'm sorry for that, I really am...but that's the way I see it and I tell you this... I'm tired, I'm really, really tired. We're in for much more of that and worse I'm afraid. The future is bleak and I feel the "change" in the wind. Evil, dark change. The change coming will not be a friendly one for Christians I'm afraid. As Christians, we knew this day would come. Whether this is indeed the time or not...that time will come. As bad as the economic implications are, the critical issues here are the freedom of worship and protection of the helpless. Religious freedom is being threatened. The Church had better wake up. The wolf of Socialism is at the door. I wonder what our chances of getting a Sarah Palin / Condie Rice ticket ready in four years would be? I'm all for that.

I talked to my nephews Mark and Eric today. Sounds like they're going to be able to make it down for Thanksgiving. I always enjoy them tremendously. They really look forward to a weekend at Aunt Tilena's kitchen. Their mom and dad are in Congo and won't be here for the holiday. They're the ones I've written about before who work with the UN. Heather, their sister, may also come in from LA. Tilena has been decorating for Thanksgiving. The front porch looks quite festive. And as for me...the photo proves it...I'm putting my money where my mouth is. Go McCain!

OK all, I'll get off my soap box for now. I know you're all tired of hearing me. Vote...Vote Republican....Vote often.

Don & Co.

Bad Dad

A photo of my mower "with the grass shroud reattached again" sigh...JUST GO CUT THE GRASS.........For 21 years I've been King of the Turf, Ruler of the Yard, Unchallenged Czar of the Green World....and now Tilena's telling me how to cut the grass. That woman just called me on the phone "she's in the car on her way home from work" telling me I need a new mower cause mine blows grass all over the place....who woulda thunk it... Translation, ten minutes ago I made Nick get out of the bed "its 4 p.m." and go outside to mow the grass. So now he's called Mommie about mean ole Dad mistreating him. He gets grass and dirt on his head and Daddy don't care. For those of you who have never seen my mower, its a lot like me. Kinda beat up, ugly, rusty and missing a few parts...but if you have a little patience with it...it can still get the job done. It embarrasses the heck out of Tilena for anyone to see it. Now Nick knows this and no one is better at pushing mama's buttons than little stinkie ninkie.

So what if it is old, beat up, rusted, dented, bald tires and missing the entire hood. The fact is, the motor is strong, blades are sharp and it cuts a nice lawn....if the driver is out to cut a nice lawn. Nick complained initially because it had a grass shroud deflector that left clumps of grass on the lawn and I would make him rake it up after mowing. He didn't like raking, so I took the shroud off to enable the mower to mulch up the clippings....no more clumps, no more raking. Now that the shrould is gone, the clippings blow up on him and gets him dirty....oh boo hoo. MOMMIE, Daddy is being a doo doo head....yes honey he is...I'll call him right now. So here we are. What Nick wants is me to hire someone to cut the grass "anyone but him is my guess". The truth is, he doesn't cut it to my satisfaction anyway. No one can cut my grass to my satisfaction but me. But lets get this straight here...we're not talking about the darned grass. We're talking about a 17 year old asleep in the bed at 4pm. A 17 year old who will still be in the bed at noon tomorrow. A 17 year old who has a car, meals, home, game cube, nintendo, Wii, satellite t.v, cell phone, computer, health and dental "four retainers so far", chips & dip and all the mountain dew he can drink......that's what we're talking about. He can cut the flapbanging grass once a week.

And let me digress here for just a bit. We should all really know how my mower came to be in the state its in. A couple years back, Ryan "the other brother Darrell" while in a learning curve of his own...was taking the mower over to cut the grass at one of the vacant parsonages in town. He loaded it onto the trailer and headed out. Well, as he was going up the street, he hit the brakes to make the curve and the trailer with mower still attached "caught up with him". Learning to lock the trailer hitch onto the tow ball can be an expensive lesson. That's why even today the back of the jeep is as ugly as the front of my mower.

You know, most men would take advantage of this opportunity to go buy a fancy new Dixie Chopper "the cadillac of lawn mowers", when their wife left the door open like that. But the issue is just more dadgummed important here. My mower cuts the lawn like a golf course when I use it, so there's nothing wrong with the mower. There's a lot wrong with most teenagers. There's not a doubt in my mind that Nick will make the curve and one day grade out high. I'm sure he'll eventually have a lawn of his own. But I owe it to him to stand fast on this issue. A little sweat equity is a noble thing. And as for "mommie", I make fun of her, but the fact is, she really is on my side...but she really don't like my mower.

I've learned, the lessons are so much more valuable than the chore. A bad mow job is like a bad hair cut...it will grow back. Just like all the holes where home plate and first base used to be...they will repair themselves. I'll sorely miss these "bad mow jobs" one day. With the possible exception of the "Tilena mowing experiment". Some scars really never do heal. But I refuse to let the lessons pass. I love him too much to let him ride around on a Dixie Chopper; or to let someone else be riding around on it in his place. I really would love to have a Dixie Chopper and a 1962 Corvette...But by the time I can afford them, I'll be too old to drive either. In the mean time, I think God left us to cut the grass. See, here's the way I have it figured...now this is not Southern Baptist Theology...just Don's understanding of things. Anyway, the way I see it, God got out of the gardening business back about the time of the Fall of Man. God does provide a gorgeous natural world....but he just ain't to eager a gardener. You should see my lawn when he has it to himself for two or three weeks. If you want to get a quick refresher, just look back at Genesis 3:17-19. In my mind God said..."From here on out, you can cut your own grass..."

So Nick...sorry buddy. But you'll just have to bear it on that ole mower a couple more years. I sure wish I had a mower to ride when I was 17. Try being a farm hand, boy. But that's another story....don't mean anything to a sleepy 17 year old anyway. Like Ryan and Christy, Nick will get there...he's just a little behind the curve right now.

And Nick, don't forget to blow off the sidewalk.

going slow in the fast lane

I thought about you this morning...old man. The second half of the night was a restless one and sleep just didn't come easily. Odd dreams flopped helter skelter across my mind leaving me with a sense of unease when I crawled from bed before daylight. Going to bed with unfinished thoughts will do that to a person and must have been the case with me last night. At some time yesterday, I must have heard your name because you were the constant theme in each of the dreams. In some I was mad with Tilena, but you appeared somehow in all of them, and I just couldn't make sense of it. None seemed to "end" right.

Just like you're untimely departure when I felt like you had gone too soon. There was still too much to talk about, too many laughs yet to share. We didn't spend as much time together there toward the end. Maybe a lot of it was that I knew it was coming, and didn't really know what to say to you anymore. You didn't know what to say either. Our last few conversations were forced and uneasy. Nothing like the twenty years worth of discussions before. It really seemed sort of anti climatic when I think back over the years. The end should have been different. I should have been there. It should have been funny...or at least controversial.

I know you weren't ready. Some people look forward to their homecoming day. Others just seem resigned to the fact that time is up. Then there are some like you who really didn't want to go. It was hard to look at you knowing that you knew...and didn't want to go. There were still Gyros to eat and politicians to grumble about.

Remember our first meeting? There you were in much the same condition as you would be twenty years later on our last meeting... Laying up in the bed on your lazy butt. You had just suffered your first heart attack and I had driven down from Perry with Tilena to see you. Tilena and I had only been out twice, so I don't really know what I was thinking to offer to ride down there with her and Christy...it just seemed the thing to do. Actually that visit sealed the deal for me. I finally met a family more disfunctional, weird, and nutty than my own. Anyway, you never actually spoke to me although you did grunt in my direction. But you said to Tilena, "Watch him, you know what they say about those policemen". No, I don't know Peep, I never did know exactly what that meant. But I do know this..Somewhere along the line I went from being a suspect to being a confidant. The last meeting was, in a way, similar. You were in that hospital bed again. And again, you didn't speak to me. But you knew I was there. Maybe you had just said everything there was to say. I hadn't though, and I wish I had said it then. But it was just so difficult. A lot changed between us over twenty years, and that lump in my throat just wouldn't get out of the way there at the end.

Well Peep...today would be your birthday. I think you would be 75 if you were still here with us. You really would be one of those old "farts" you always complained about. You've been three years removed from us now. You've had three "real" birthdays huh? I wouldn't wish you away from Glory for anything....but I do miss you.

Happy birthday old man...and, oh yeah, stay outta the fast lane.

Don & Company


Palm Trees and Sand.......................

These old hands

I looked down at my hands today at work wondering why they just won't do what I want them to do anymore. They just seem to get clumsier by the day. When I think back over all they've touched and all they've done, I'm sure they hold a life map in them somewhere. They're beginning to weaken of late. I can tell when I try to do some of the things that had been so easy and natural for so many years. The bottles don't open as easy anymore, the keys get fumbled, and throwing a curveball is almost a mystery now. The fingers are all beginning to grow in separate directions and like most of my body...they hurt most of the time. Swollen knuckles and calloused palms bear silent witness to a lifetime of joy, work, play and more than a little sorrow.

As I looked at them it occurred to me, if they could talk what a story they could tell. I had been thinking since Sunday about some of these things I'm about to say. I guess my ole hands have just prompted me to begin. See, Sunday morning as I was teaching Sunday School, I mentioned something I hadn't really thought about in many years....I decided a long time ago that no one would ever see me cry again. Tilena had never heard me say that and she said so that afternoon as we were driving over to a movie together. Then she said "You know, come to think of it, I don't think I have ever seen you cry". And I replied "I know for a fact you've never seen me cry". "I have always made that a point in life". I was surprised that she didn't know, nor had I ever told her why. I guess it's bit embarrassing, but as we get older, things just don't embarrass us as much anymore. Anyway...the whole thing started me thinking about how little we really know about each other, even the people we love most in this world.

So, as I considered these things, I also began to think about it in terms of my children and what I've experienced as opposed to what they've known. In particular what they really know (or think they know) about their Mom and Dad. Of course Tilena, Christy, Ryan, and Nick know me better than anyone ever has....but then I thought, how much more do they not know? I decided it may be best to just start out and talk about why and how that happened to me. All in all it was one of the most profound life affecting processes I've ever encountered...probably following only accepting Christ's Salvation and marrying Tilena. Here goes....

Middle School, Fall of 1973. I was by all accounts very unpopular in school. I was right in the middle of a growth spurt and terribly clumsy. Having creamy white skin, crooked yellow teeth and no friends and certainly no clothes of any style didn't help at all. I had grown up on a farm with little social interaction zero social skills and no one who could teach me. I wore work clothes to school and they were stained with tomato vine the same as my hands and arms. There was a particular bully who was a couple years older than me that tormented me and made my life miserable. My stomach ached all the time with dread at the thought of going to school. I was beat up (never seriously) regularly and teased constantly. This guy just chose me as his sport and had his play with me daily. Worse than the physical bruising, was the name calling and humiliation of it all. Everyone in school knew who the "albino kid with yellow vampire teeth and green hands" was. I can still hear that guy screaming those things at me today. Those sort of things are deeply embarrassing to a 12-13 year old boy and I would have died before telling anyone or asking for help. Who do you tell anyway? The whole school and a couple of teachers knew it already and no help was offered. My Dad never went to the school for any reason good or bad the whole 12 years I was there. Mom would have made a scene which would have made it even worse on me. I don't remember my Dad even being there at my graduation....it says something that I don't remember even if he was there....but I don't think he was. Anyway I would often times just sit in desperation crying in the locker room or outside by myself during lunch. I didn't have anything to eat anyway because the guy also took my lunch money every day. When the other kids saw me the either teased me more or avoided me altogether. Nobody wants to be associated with the "loser". Anyway, the worse it got, the worse it got...when the other kids got the chance, they would get in on the act too. It was a year I don't like to remember much and it seemed like it would never end. I think it was during this time I began to develop more and more as a...well, not exactly a loner, but I seemed to have more fun by myself than I did with anyone else. I certainly was a lot more comfortable alone. Maybe the best way to describe it was "self sufficient". Then one day on the last day of school I was crossing the parking lot headed for the bus when "Jerry" and his buddies cornered me. All the kids gathered around laughing and enjoying the show. I got a dozen strawberries and a nosebleed from the pavement and a concussion where I hit a concrete parking bumper with my head. That night, in the emergency room, Doctor Dyal said..."boy, you're just a little too much like your mama". Today, I'm not sure if he was talking about being hardheaded or something else, but a 13 year old boy took it like he was calling me a sissy. I cried again just to prove him right, but that night at home in my room I promised myself Nobody would ever see me cry again.

When I returned to school that Fall, Jerry was gone "sent to a Technical School" and I was gradually growing into an athletic body. I would eventually become fairly popular and an accomplished high school athlete (funny how a little athletic prowess can do that), but I never forgot my lessons in humility and I never forgot my promise. The shame and humiliation drove me all my young adult life. I lifted weights, accomplished a number of on hands self defense arts and became tough as leather. No one is better at hiding emotions than me. I see some of the other kids from time to time since we've grown up, and you know something...not a single one of them has ever mentioned any of it. I've suffered a lot more painful injuries since then, both emotional and physical. My hands show a lot of it, but my emotions never showed any of it. Through it all though, I've kept my promise except for one solitary time. Right after my Dad died, I was sitting out in the barn alone among all his things thinking about him the day of the funeral when my two boys walked in the door. I cried right then before I could even blink. It wasn't because I missed him so much, although I did, but It hit me so fast that I never had with him what my children have with me...a true bond and open love. And it was too late then to ever have it. I got a hold of myself pretty quick, and they've never seen me like that again. But they are the only ones to see me cry since that day in June of 1974.

I'll cry again one day I'm sure. I'm too heavily invested in my family not to. Nor does that vow seem as important today as it has most of my life. But for now, I just still hold most things close. I don't mind saying whats on my heart or mind, I'm even inclined to show love...just still can't quite show the hurt yet. I've lived long enough to see scores settled and debts paid. I know it all evens out. Jerry regreted many times over even knowing me, let alone hurting me. The God I serve has a way of handling those things...they are his to settle. I think that year of humble pie was the driving force behind my chosen profession....just want to see unfair things made right. Jerry spent more time in jail than out over the years and I just can't imagine today, why I was so afraid of him then. He died a couple of years back, just a little wisp of a man broken by disease and chemical addiction. Although I did allow myself a moment of pleasure on one of the many trips I made escorting him to jail; for the most part I just had sympathy for him. He was just a brief sad, but important, chapter in my life.

So here I am today still looking at these hands while more and more memories come to mind. They've held Christy down in the mud and fingerprinted corpses at autopsy. They've held my newborn boys and my dying parents. Hugged Emma Grace and Joelene, But neither one often enough. They've loved Tilena and had their bones broken fighting with outlaws. Thrown rocks, bottles baseballs, footballs and snowballs. Held snakes, lizards, possums, coons and severed body parts. They picked a scared thirteen year old boy up off the pavement and knocked the guy down that did it fifteen years later. Then did it again out of sinful pleasure. They've held a bible and taught recruits self defense. They've written term papers, arrest affidavits and activity reports. They've pulled weeds and planted flowers, hit grown men and held frightened children. Spanked butts and wiped noses. I've squeezed them together in anguish while my kids made bad decisions...but held them from falling all the while. One hand wears my Dad's wedding band and the other hand my own. Both have spent more and more time folded in prayer as the years have drifted by. Lot of history in these hands...but they ain't talking. I think that's about all I've got to say about that.

It'll be sundown soon and I've got an appointment on the patio.

If your Dad is still alive, go hold his hands.

Don & Co.


Palm trees and Sand...........................

Something's Brewing

Hello Troops,
Another day is in the books. When I got home today Bowden and Pepper were ready to get outside, so we went out to romp around a spell. We heard a big whoomp to the South and that's when I noticed this rolling in. That was about five p.m. and it's still raining at 8 p.m. Looks like we're going to have a couple more days of it too.

Had a nice talk on the phone with Angie and then Uncle Hunter this evening. Everyone seems to be doing well in North Florida. Down here, things are much as normal. Ryan is in class tonight and Nick is doing homework. Tilena is in the kitchen and everything is alright in my world. Tilena and I went to the afternoon matinee yesterday after church. We saw "Fireproof". It was everything we had heard and more. If you've not seen this movie, I highly recommend it. KC and Jason especially....please see this film. If only because Uncle Don asked you to...please go see it together. It's a reminder that there is still excellent entertainment out there that is not lewd or obscene. Besides...it's probably a film that everyone should see. Whether married or not, it's just a good message about how to treat the important people in your life. Besides that, it was very funny, had great action, and deeply thought provoking. The scenery (Spanish Moss and tall Pines) also made me miss South Georgia.

After the movie, we just took the afternoon and wandered through a couple of grocery stores...something I kind of enjoy when I'm not pressed for time. I always buy too much though. Especially since I was hungry when we went in there. I probably bought stuff I'll never eat. That gourmet cheese I just had to have don't look too good now.

Well guys, hope your day was as pleasant as mine. I've been thinking about a post for a couple of days and should have all my thoughts organized in a day or two. I'll try and get something a bit more entertaining to update this blog then.

Until that time....God Bless