So we are celebrating Independence Day this weekend in the North Georgia Piedmont, and for the first time in a long time we can celebrate with legal aerial fireworks. Emergency rooms all across the state will be ramping up for the burned fingers and cinder-filled eyes, and a good time will be had by all.
What a week I chose to tune out the news. I got a recap over the weekend and to tell you the truth, I liked the Supremes a whole lot better when Diana Ross was in charge rather than John Roberts.
I have looked forward to this occasion for 26 years, ever since I looked down at that screaming little red-faced bundle of joy and named him Jackson Lee Huckaby, and I have prayed that he would find a wife that was as kind and loving and God-fearing as he has become.
They call Charleston the Holy City, because of all the churches. Last week evil visited the Holy City, intent on destroying the holiness and casting the city, and the region, into flame. Evil was painfully destructive and caused much grief and anguish, but evil failed because the good people of Charleston were bigger than the misguided and hate-filled young man who perpetrated the awful massacre at the Emmanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church.
I have reached a conclusion, y’all. I hate to admit it. You don’t understand how badly I hate to admit it. Perhaps the worst part of admitting that I have reached this conclusion is that it proves that my lovely wife Lisa is right, and has been right for a long time — and I have been wrong.
It’s hard to have lived as long as I have and done the things I’ve done and still find new experiences — at least those that I am physically able and morally willing to experience. But I found something new to do this week. I attended my first ever North Georgia (UMC) Annual Conference.
My friend invited me to a concert at one of those funky venues in Little Five Points. If you haven’t visited Little Five recently, think 10th Street in the late 1960s. All that’s missing is the Great Speckled Bird.
Sunday, June 14, is Flag Day. Old Glory. The Red, White and Blue. The Star Spangled Banner. The day set aside by Woodrow Wilson to commemorate the adoption of our flag by the Continental Congress in 1777. I bet there aren’t a dozen people in the area who knew that. Now there are a whole bunch of us that do.
here is an old conundrum, “If a tree falls in the forest and no one is there to hear, does it still make a sound?” I have a better one. “If I do something and my lovely wife, Lisa, is not at home to tell me, am I still wrong?” I’m betting that the answer to the second question is the same as the answer to the first.
For years I have heard people criticize the local newspaper — this newspaper — which doesn’t upset me because it goes with the territory. All newspapers are criticized on a daily basis and probably have been since cave men chiseled pictures of his fellow Neanderthals hunting wooly mammoths.