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Millennium

No one knows the time, hour or day, except my father who is in heaven.  However we can discern the signs of the times.  I certainly do not know the time, but looking around I feel that time is short.  If it is another thousand years, we are one day closer today, than yesterday.  The important thing is to have Christ as your lord and savior so that when the time comes you will be ready.

Now & Then

This is me, too many years combined with ice cream and potato chips for supper.

EAGLE STAFF

Carved eagle head using redwood mounted to poplar staff.  This is the first time I have painted a carving and I do not like the look.  Won't do it again.  I prefer the stained approach, letting the shadows do the work.

The Red Jacket

     I guess when you start getting older, you begin to remember the days of your youth.  That is the case in my situation, anyway.  I don't know if it is because you long for those "good ol days" or if your short term memory is beginning to fail and your brain compensates for that.  A lot of my childhood was spent with my grandparents on their farm.  They were salt of the earth, hard working, good people.  Grandpa was an outgoing personality, well liked in the community.  Grannie on the other hand was a quiet recluse.  As a youth, she was the opposite, but by early adulthood she had lost all of her hearing and was completely deaf.  There was nothing that could be done for her at that time and trying to carry on a conversation was extremely frustrating for her.  Her love for animals got her through that rough part of her life.  Seeing her interact with the dogs and animals on the farm was inspiring. 
     My parents had a hard time financially and about the time they could almost get ahead some disaster would rear it's ugly head.  Mostly, it would be some medical emergency that would require them to go to the infirmary in Mobile.  Other times it would be something as simple as a broken down car needing a battery or a radiator or some other essential item.  As a result I spent a lot of time at grandpa's.  Most of his land was in Dale County and they made a trip to Ozark every year to pay the property taxes. They went more often than that, but this is the trip I remember.
     It was cold at that time of the year and I had a jacket that was to small and ragged.  I guess that it looked pretty bad.  While at the courthouse, they decided to take me to Mixon's store which was on the square.  I had never been in a store that large.  The closest in size, I had been in, was McKay's Store on Hwy 134 between Midland City and Headland.  Mixon's was a sight to behold.  While Grannie looked at shoes, grandpa carried me over to the children's section.  The coats had been picked through earlier in the year and the only one that would fit me was a bright red jacket.  Fit is a loose word, since grandpa wanted it to last me a few years and I was still growing.  I tried to talk him out of buying that one, for the red stood out like a sore thumb.  He called Grannie over and she loved it.  I just gave up, you can't fight city hall, after all.
     On Monday, I had to ride the bus to school and everyone was staring and snickering at my red jacket.  When we were unloaded and I walked up the huge steps at the elementary school, I was walking upon a world stage.  Everyone in Headland saw me and I couldn't get inside fast enough.  Funny how your mind plays tricks on you.  No one noticed my red jacket, but me.  I am embarrassed now that I was embarrassed then.  If I could go back and do it over again, I would walk up those steps with my head held high, my back straight and my chest pushed out with pride, knowing that someone loved me enough to spend their hard earned money to keep me warm.
    

Choctawhatchee Crossing.

When I learned to swim at Preston's Mill on the Choctawhatchee river, I never even thought about who had gone on before.  Now as I look back, I can see that quite a few had gone before. Sure there will be many more to make that crossing.  24x36 inch oil on canvas.

Sheila's Wisdom

     A few days ago, Sheila and I were installing new signs at Republic Conduit in rural Georgia.  One had to be relocated.  I had dreaded moving it for over a week, for the dirt around it was rock hard.  Due to all the rain we had received, the dirt was relatively soft and dug easily.  Whoever had put the poles in the ground previously had over engineered the amount of concrete needed.  We dug a hole three feet deep and four feet around, but the concrete was not budging.  I grabbed a claw hammer and started beating it.  After a few minutes, Sheila jumped down into the hole, took the hammer and began banging away.  In a little while she looked up at me and said, "Stilettos, a hundred dollars, a good sledge hammer, priceless."  That was all I needed to relieve my frustration.  The next day we showed up with a sledge hammer and a couple of whacks were all we needed.  Sheila, grabbed the sledge from me and exacted her revenge, while I stayed out of her way.
     That weekend, she was talking with her sister in Washington.  Sheila's favorite topics are the end times and politics.  Her sister said that people in Washington were wondering what to do if Donald Trump won.  Sheila's response was also priceless.  "Ask them if they were in an embassy in Benghazi, being attacked and needing help, would they rather call Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump for help?"  That just about says it all, for me.