I have been touring the American South for the past week or so, along with 50 of my closets friends — some of whom I even knew before Shane Clayton, World’s Greatest Bus Driver, picked up our group last Thursday morning.
I was standing in the wings at the Ryman Auditorium Thursday and found myself in awe of the ghosts there. By ghosts I mean the spirits of all the magnificent country artists who had stood right there, in the same spot I occupied, waiting for their opportunity to grace that hallowed stage for the first time — or the hundredth.
Sometimes I think the world has gone slap dab crazy. Every time I think I have seen and heard it all, something new comes along.
Do recipes go out of style or do folks just forget to fix certain things for so long that they no longer remember they exist? Know what I mean? There are lots of things that used to be staples at our family gatherings, and I haven’t tasted them in years. I’m talking about good things, too.
Saturday will be Locklyn’s day for me and my family. I plan to wear blue and gold all day, and I just don’t wear gold on normal occasions. That’s nothing. In New York City they will light up the top of the Empire State Building in blue and gold!
Goodness gracious sakes alive! The things people do in the name of the Lord!
I ran into a fellow linthead this week named Peddy Parker, from Bibb City, in Columbus. He lived near the Hertwigs who later lived near me, in Porterdale. It’s a mill village thing. You may or may not understand.
Batten down the hatches, y’all. Tornado season is upon us.
I met Phil Pete when I was coaching football at Loganville in a former life. She and her husband, Emery, were two of the first Yankees I had ever met that I genuinely liked being around.
Earlier this week, while on a tour of Israel, my smartphone died, and not one amongst us could do anything to resurrect it — not even when we visited the Garden Tomb in Jerusalem.