A Lesson Learned

Don’t count the number of friends you have but the number of friends you can count on.

  This lesson has been reinforced repeatedly over the last eight months. th.jpeg

  Talk is cheap.  Hiding is even cheaper.

  Following through on a promise and sometimes doing even more,  is a blessing  that will never be forgotten.

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One Morning At The Pharmacy

Upon arriving home, a husband was met at the door by his sobbing wife. Tearfully she explained, “It’s the pharmacist. He insulted me terribly this morning on the phone. I had to call multiple times before he would even answer the phone.”

Immediately, the husband drove down town to confront the pharmacist, and demand an apology

Before he could say more than a word or two, the pharmacist told him, “Now, just a minute, listen to my side of it… This morning the alarm failed to go off, so I was late getting up. I went without breakfast and hurried out to the car, just to realize that I’d locked the house with both house and car keys inside and had to break a window to get my keys.

“Then, driving a little too fast, I got a speeding ticket. Later, when I 
was about three blocks from the store, I had a flat tire.”

“When I finally got to the store a bunch of people were waiting for me to open up. I got the store opened and started waiting on these people, all the time the darn phone was ringing.”

He continued, “Then I had to break a roll of coins against the cash 
register drawer to make change, and they spilled all over the floor. I 
had to get down on my hands and knees to pick up the coins and the phone was still ringing.

“When I came up I cracked my head on the open cash drawer, which made me stagger back against a showcase with a bunch of perfume bottles on it. Half of them hit the floor and broke.”th-1

“Meanwhile, the phone is still ringing with no let up, and when I finally got back to answer it, it was your wife wanting to know how to use a rectal thermometer.
Believe me Mister, as God is my witness, all I did was tell her.”
Thanks, Carla
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A Natural

Martha  is back in Houston after her and Megan spent a week in Chicago, post Harvey.

She is a natural comforter and I miss her being around as she is exhuberant and just knows when to climb up on your lap.

The other four dogs seem to enjoy the peace and quiet with her not around.

After the hurricane, class schedules have been altered and I hope we get to see both Megan and Martha at Christmas.


The Look. . . “Of course I want to go out”


Just a week or so ago from her throne in Houston


Four dogs, no puppy. Life is good.

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But I’m starting to believe that this is all madness and that we’re already in way over our heads

Stop the madness. Those of us with addictive personaities, take note.

Live & Learn

IMAGINE IF there were a law decreeing that every citizen had to carry a tracking device and check it five times an hour. This device was to be kept at hand at all times. The law also decreed that you needed to place this device on your bedside table at night, so that it was never more than two feet away from your body, and if you happened to wake up in the middle of the night, then you needed to check it. You had to check it during mealtimes, at sporting events, while watching television. You even needed to sneak a quick peek at it during plays and weddings and funerals. For those unwilling to check their devices at the plays, weddings, and funerals, exceptions would be made—so long as you kept your device on right up until the moment the play, wedding, or funeral was beginning and then…

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This was sent to me as an e-mail.  Original source is unknown to me. Thanks, Carla.
th.jpeg   Hundreds and hundreds of small boats pulled by countless pickups and SUVs from across the South are headed for Houston. Almost all of them driven by men. They’re using their own property, sacrificing their own time, spending their own money, and risking their own lives for one reason: to help total strangers in desperate need.

   Most of them are by themselves. Most are dressed like the redneck duck hunters and bass fisherman they are. Many are veterans. Most are wearing well-used gimme-hats, t-shirts, and jeans; and there’s a preponderance of camo. Most are probably gun owners, and most probably voted for Trump.

   These are The Quiet Ones. They don’t wear masks and tear down statues. They don’t, as a rule, march and demonstrate. And most have probably never been in a Whole Foods.

   But they’ll spend the next several days wading in cold, dirty water; dodging gators and water moccasins and fire ants; eating whatever meager rations are available; and sleeping wherever they can in dirty, damp clothes. Their reward is the tears and the hugs and the smiles from the terrified people they help. They’ll deliver one boatload, and then go back for more.

   When disaster strikes, it’s what men do. Real men. Heroic men. American men. And then they’ll knock back a few shots, or a few beers with like-minded men they’ve never met before, and talk about fish, or ten-point bucks, or the benefits of hollow-point ammo, or their F-150 pick-up truck.

   And the next time they hear someone talk about “the patriarchy”, or “male privilege”, they’ll snort, turn off the TV and go to bed.  In the meantime, they’ll likely be up again before dawn. To do it again. Until the helpless are rescued. And the work’s done.

   They’re unlikely to be reimbursed. There won’t be medals. They won’t care. They’re heroes. And it’s what heroes do.
And they won’t differentiate between race, color, nor political slant. All they’ll see is “my fellow American/neighbor” in dire need. These are real Americans who love their family, their fellow citizen, and their country. Praying for the rescuers as well as the victims.
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Song For A Labor Day

Labor Day . . .  It’s a USA thing.

Steve Forbet has been a favorite of mine since I first heard “Alive on Arrival” back in 1978.

Put Steve’s name in my search box and you can spend the entire day learning about him and listening to his music.

Labor Day ’08

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Monday Funnies…

A re-blog of a re-blog. A funny one at that. It took me a few moments to get the “Grammar Pirate” message. Enjoy the day.

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A Lesson


The correct answers are always available if you seek them

This morning at Mass, the second reading was a short passage from St. Paul’s Letter to the Romans (Rom 12:1-2).

These two verses have also been recited weekly by a group of men that have been meeting  for over thirteen years, working together to be better husbands, fathers and friends.

We hold each other accountable, yet we appreciate and understand how easy it is to forget/ignore the message while living in today’s secular/sexual world.

We feel we owe it to our families to give it our best shot.

The passage:

I urge you brothers and sisters, by the mercies of God, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual (act of)  worship. Do not conform yourself to this age but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and pleasing and perfect.

Think on these things. Think also of  the lives, marriages and families that have been destroyed by failing to follow this simple passage.

Surely you know more than one.



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Sunday Morning With Dean

It has been explained by Kurt over at Cultural Offering, that we tend listen to the music of our High School and College days for the rest of our lives.

I am in agreement with the theory.

One of the artists that I was introduced to in college was Dean Friedman.  Early on, I got in the habit of playing his albums on Sunday mornings while cleaning the apartment and reading the morning paper.  The chorus to one of his songs, “I May Be Young” served as part of my senior quote, under my photo in the yearbook.

Dean’s music still invokes some great memories.

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I May Be Crazy, But I Think Not

I first heard this song while a freshman in college back in 1978 on the live, “Compleat Tom Paxton album.  One might say this is a song meant to be sung on a Saturday evening.

TomPaxton_TheCompleatTomPaxton_EvenCompleater_AlbumCover-140x140I have rarely  never been in agreement with Tom Paxton’s politics, but he skillfully uses his point of view to write funny, political satire and unlike today,  there was no hate or pontificating.  You might even catch me humming, singing or playing one of his songs that makes fun of my point of view.

Yeah, I know, hard to believe.

This video, while not dated, was probably back from that era of the late 70’s -early 80″s. (Tom will turn 80 next month).   It is not political, well kind of, but funny and an accurate description of life in the jungles.

Aside from politics, he has an impressive catalogue of music to his credit. Tom Paxton is one of those guys that does not get enough recognition for his work.

Recognition provided  here.



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Staying Positive

I got called “pretty” today!   Unknown.jpeg

Well actually the full statement was “you’re pretty annoying”, but I like to focus on the positive part.


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unknown“There is a light in this world, a healing spirit more powerful than any darkness we may encounter”.

Mother Teresa

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From The Back Of The Plane

A few months ago, I took a trip and chronicled it as “The Not So Friendly Skies”

I began a trip yesterday and the experience could not have been more different.

The first leg of my journey started in Augusta, GA  and  found myself in the back of the full CRJ.  Had some brief  niceities with my seatmate, talking abut our jobs, where we were heading to and the fact that there was a ground-stop because of thunderstorms around Atlanta.  It wasn’t until we were almost ready to land that I happened to look down and see a picture of a Gibson Les Paul guitar on his smart phone.  The rest of the short flight was us comparing collections (his was much more extensive and impressive) and sharing photos off our iphones.  Mason even  invited me to a few FB groups for guitar enthusiasts.

We landed and and I again had to make my way from one terminal to another in a very short period of time. I made it to the gate and was the last person to board the plane, a Boeing 757-300.  As I made my way down the isle to the back, I observed lots of empty seats throughout the plane.

Those of you familiar with the plane know there is a “back section” with about 12 rows of seats. I was ticketed for back there and as I got to my row, there already was a husband and wife in two of the three seats, so I offered to find another seat for all of us to have more room.

The row behind them was a woman and a toddler.  What made me decide to sit there, I do not know, but it ended up being one of the best plane rides of my life.


My buddy and me.

The young boy was fussing just a little and I started doing all that cute stuff grown-ups do to babies.  He started smiling.  His mom was trying to get a bottle ready for him while holding him on her lap.  I offered to hold him for her and there was that brief moment where she wasn’t sure if she trusted me.  I took him and started playing with him.  At that point I introduced myself and learned his name was Jerimiah.  Over the next hour and a half, we shared some Alphabets cereal, played and napped, (He napped,  I read and mom got a little break and napped also)

Talking to his mom, Lenora,  I found out that he was almost eight months old and this was his fifth time flying.  They had been visiting family in Mobile, Al and were heading back to Kalamazoo, MI and his dad would be waiting for them at baggage claim.  Once settled, he was just a joy and I got my first view of what being a grandfather might be like.  We were in the very back of the plane  and when everyone was almost out, I offered to help her get off as she had two bags in addition to Jerimiah.  I carried him out to the gangway where his stroller was waiting, gave him a good-bye kiss and then made my to the carousel.

The hour and a half flew by (pun intended) and I found a part of myself that had been hiding somewhere  for a few years.

Thanks Mason, Lenora and Jerimiah. Y’all put me in a great mood for the rest of the day.


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Every Journey

Every journey starts with a new idea and a first step.

Some journeys are better planned than others, but sometimes, it  seemed more important to just get started. At least it did at the time.

Since selling our remaining funeral  businesses in 2011, I have started several journeys and quite frankly none of them worked out as planned.  (Thank you God for my wife’s sense of humor and adventure).  I’ll take the final credit for things not  going well but there are several folks who played supporting roles in my movie, but with disapointing performances.  They will remain unknown, except to me, them and those that were close observers.

Today starts a new journey.

Well planned out  (hopefully) and while my experience as a business owner, funeral director and firefighter/EMT will be very useful, I am going into something completely different.

In a few hours I will fly from Augusta, GA to Detroit, MI. Then I will  have a short drive to the home office of a company I  will open/operate a branch  for over  the next ten years or so.  At the age of 57, I’m ready to bring  a new business out of the ground again  and am happy to be able to stay in Aiken to do so.

But, today, I’m taking it to Detroit.

All that to introduce this song, from the Rats To Riches record.





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Illustrating The Absurd . . .

. . . by being absurd.

Kurt Harden shares a thought that caused me to launch a mouthful of coffee on to my laptop this morning.

I knew something like this would happen.   

What’s next?

If you want to keep up with our culture, be a regular visitor to Cultural Offering.com

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