Cranks My Tractor

Does white or brown sand attract more Yankees?

Not really a nice way to ask that question is there? Honestly, I was just pondering the white sand versus brown sand conundrum and thought I would consider the question. Growing up in the South, the only beaches I ever knew were the snow-white beaches on the Florida Panhandle, thus I might be a little prejudice when it comes to which I prefer.

Having visited the Outer Banks of North Carolina quite a few times over recent years, I must say that the brown sand is quite nice also. The people are wonderful in both places, but the Yankee edge would have to go to the Outer Banks brown sand, simply because their beaches are further north, thus folks from the New Jersey and New York areas can get there much easier.

Before I die...

We don’t know the date or time or how, but from a mathematical perspective, the probability is 1, or a sure thing that we will all eventually “die” or leave this world. Like many people, I have this list of things that I would like to do “before I die.” The list changes, sometimes growing and sometimes shrinking.

In the past, I’ve included things like going to Iceland, performing at the Grand Ole Opry and jumping over a picnic table and successfully landing on my skateboard one more time. Maybe I’ll get to go to Iceland, maybe I’ll even get the opportunity to tell a story at the Grand Ole Opry, but I’m kind of getting over the need to jump over a picnic table again, because the probability of success is not as good as it used to be and I have an aggregate driveway. You know, the kind with little rocks in it…

It’s not a good place to ride a skateboard or to fall…

Forget Waldo, Where am I?

Most folks have heard of the “Where’s Waldo?” books where readers try to find Waldo in a picture; it’s kind of like of puzzle and my children enjoyed the books/concept. In the original book, “Waldo” travels to ordinary destinations like the beach, the ski slopes and the zoo. I’ve always enjoyed the zoo.

There are pictures of crowds of people and the object is to simply find Waldo in the crowd. It’s actually quite fun and can keep children occupied for long periods of time. Each of these destinations has a postcard to the reader from Waldo, who tells you what is going on and a little about his destination.

Waldo sets out on his journey with 12 items that are supposed to help him on his journey through the book and to various places. He carries a walking stick, kettle, mallet, cup, backpack, sleeping bag, binoculars, camera, snorkel, belt, bag and shovel. Waldo manages to lose these things everywhere he goes and he is continually asking you/the reader to help the things he leaves behind.

The Ride

It was about this time of year, 35 years ago, when I took a long ride with my Daddy. It was a rite of passage or something I suppose. We loaded up in my car and headed to Dallas, Texas, to see the University of Alabama play Baylor in the Cotton Bowl.

He was an Alabama fan, I had been accepted or would be accepted to Auburn University. It was my senior year in high school and we had never gone on such a long ride together, with just us. It was nice. It was something I looked forward to and something I will always remember. I’m sure you have had similar experiences with your father, or at least I hope you have.

He let me drive, and then he would drive. I would give anything to remember the conversations, though I’m sure they were sparse, I would still like to remember them. I remember at the time that it just seemed like something he thought he needed to do. The game didn’t mean that much, but I’m pretty sure it was “the ride” he looked forward to taking. Being able to spend that time with me, even though the conversations weren’t really deep, spending the time was.

Crazy in Alabama

My legs hurt, my stomach hurts, I’ve lost my appetite and I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to read anything, listen to anything related to the latest news or even turn on a television or computer. I want to eat coconut – I hate coconut, but when I feel bad I want to eat things I do not like to eat. Perhaps a Mounds candy bar or an Almond Joy – they have coconut in them don’t they? Why not a coconut “bunny cake” with those pink construction paper ears and cutesy jelly bean eyes and nose.

Cut me a big piece and make me eat it…

When you grew up in the South and understand what it’s like to live in a ghost town on a Friday night because everyone is at the high school football game and have been there since 4 or 5 in the afternoon waiting on a 7 PM kickoff – you will understand what I am about to say. The two “major” college football teams in the state I grew up in, lost this past weekend and I’m kind of glad that I’m not down there right now.

Wearing Your Happiness in the New Year

It was the day after New Year’s Day. I wasn’t thinking about my resolutions – I rarely worry about such things. I generally worry about getting the year right when putting it on documents. 2015 just seems strange to write as a year…

I think of the 80’s, 90’s and of the dreaded 2000 when everything was going to stop working.

Benjamin Franklin had this to say about new years and such, “Be at war with your vices, at peace with your neighbors, and let every new year find you a better man.”

It was the second day of 2015 and I was sitting across from my oldest daughter and son in a café in New Orleans, Louisiana. Just the three of us and I was thinking what a wonderful time we were having.

Momma Mean and the Well-Mannered Carjacker

A few years ago, I had the opportunity to meet a very nice woman in Colorado – her name was “Momma Mean.” At least that’s what the ladies in the Rocky Mountain Rollergirls Roller Derby League called her.

I decided to take in my first roller derby match in Denver between the Dooms Daisies and the Sugar Kill Gang and while standing in line, I met Momma Mean. She let me sit with her on the front row and introduced me to many of the girls who were on the teams and busting each other up while on roller skates.

I had the time of my life…

Momma Mean and I stayed in touch and are still friends. To be honest, Momma Mean is not “mean,” her name is Virginia and she is one of the nicest people you will ever meet. She is a good mother and a wonderful grandmother who of course does all the things grandmothers do.

The Manistique Miracle

Some folks include skydiving, backpacking across Europe and taking exotic cruises on their bucket lists. Others want to ride in a hot air balloon, see the Northern Lights or experience New Year’s Eve at Times Square in New York City.

You may not think it’s exciting, but I wanted a teapot just like Ms. Fannie Lou’s in Vernon, Florida. Ms. Fannie Lou is the woman who invited me into her house in Vernon when I originally went back to see if Vernon still held the magic it did when my Papa and I used to visit when I was a little boy.

Papa would say, “Let’s go to Vernon,” and we would go. We would get there to the sleepy little town on the Florida Panhandle and get out of the car with my Papa’s little dog. He would say, “We’re in Vernon now.”

Three Rocks and a Lighter Knot

My family is not Jewish, but if you go to my Daddy’s grave, you will see a pile of rocks on the headstone. My Mama thought it was a good idea to put rocks on his headstone when she would visit his grave. Along with the rocks, is a little broken angel sits on the edge of the headstone (if it is still there).

I think the broken angel pretty much speaks for itself and for us all…

It seems the tradition of putting rocks or pebbles on a grave came from a Jewish tradition that simply was performed to show that “a person had been there and that the deceased individual’s memory continues to live on in and through us.”

Chicken and Jumper Cables

One of the big games in the Southeastern Conference this past weekend was the Mississippi State Bulldogs going to Tuscaloosa to play the University of Alabama. A friend offered me a ticket and I jumped at the chance to not only go to the football game, but to see my two daughters who are now both in school at the University of Alabama.

This was a “no-brainer” for me. I spent the “funny money” I earned from Delta Airlines who had inconvenienced me on a previous flight – I even had some funny money left over. In other words, I flew for free from Richmond to Atlanta on the Friday before the game.

The plane was jam-packed and there were even a few folks who were also going to the football game in Tuscaloosa. After a wonderful landing and some thoughtful piddling, I started toward Alabama in a rental car (it was not free, but it was cheap).