I was driving across Georgia the other day on a back road when I noticed on my right a youth heading in my direction from the right at a fast rate of speed. He wasn’t running, so I assumed he was on a skateboard. Protruding from the small blue toboggan on his head, I could see earphones covering his ear. Over the bushes in my line of sight, I could see his flannel green jacket gaining ground fast as I began to slow my rate of speed.
As I stumbled along the dirt road, occasionally I would reach my hand up and slip it into that of my Grandpa Jesse’s. As an independence streak struck, I would then pull it back managing my steps all on my own at least for a few feet then I would once again find myself repeating the process.
I pushed on through the mountains, my Lumina maneuvering the curves with great accuracy. Snow lay along the roads as I watched diligently for patches of black ice on the interstate.
Have you ever realized how things seem to simply pile up?
I have just endured about four and a half weeks of reducing these piles, sheet by sheet, stack by stack, and at times it felt like word by word – junk mail, business letters, tax paperwork, newspapers, magazines?
I struggled to catch a breath as I leaned up on my pillow, trying to find the next clear bit of air and pull it into my lungs.
I often wondered if there would be another breath but there was an endless desire to keep trying.
As a child, like many others I suffered from a multitude of ailments that made my stay on this earth sometimes tenuous.
I am often asked the question “How do I get into acting?” to which I answer, study, study and study, followed by working in every possible opportunity that avails itself to build a resume and gain experience.
It is not an easy adventure no matter where you call home but if you love it, the art will feed you soul, although you better have some other means to feed your tummy and your creditors.
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Some say it was a coal mine cave-in. Others say it was the fever, but whatever the reason my Grandpa Harve found himself orphaned in a time when, if children were lucky, some relative or caring neighbor took them in.
I don’t know much about his childhood, although I am told his tales of life on the Tennessee River rivaled those of Mark Twain’s “Huckleberry Finn.”
When my dad was a boy, Harve gathered the children around the fireplace and before bed told a story of an orphaned boy named A.J. (his real initials), filled with intrigue of riverboat gamblers and the dangers of riding the rapids on a handmade raft.
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One of my readers wrote in and asked for a bit of humor, so I decided to share these comedy routines below.
Remember all they asked for was a bit!
When I was growing up there is hardly a Saturday at 7 that did not pass without our television being set to watch “Hee Haw.”
One of the most iconic members of that huge ensemble cast was the comedienne Lulu Roman.
Through my years as part of the bluegrass music industry, I have been blessed to come to know many great musicians and singers who hold spots of esteem in the eyes of their peers and the lovers of the music.
One of those groups, who also like myself travel from the great state of Georgia, is Russell Moore & IIIrd Tyme Out.
The International Bluegrass Music Association’s (IBMA) has named the group Vocal Group of the Year seven times, and they are led IBMA’s most-awarded Male Vocalist of the Year with five wins.
