My Motivation Speech

     I was asked a few weeks ago to speak to our junior class as a motivation to finish strong for graduation. I took the opportunity to push them further to make plans after graduation. I hope that it worked. Here is my speech: My biggest fear today is that you will look up here and just see me as another teacher telling you the same thing we always tell you. So I would like for you to look at me and see me as just someone who is trying to give you some good advice; someone who has been in your shoes. It has not been so long that I dont remember what it was like to be a junior in high school. I faced the same challenges you do. Things have not changed THAT much when it comes to that.

     I decided since I was asked to talk about graduation today, I would wear my cap and gown from high school. I had to call my mom, dust it off and HOPE that is still fit me. I have not worn this gown since June 6, 1986. That was MY graduation day. People will ask you when you are in school, “When do you graduate?” or “What day do you graduate?” I can tell you that THAT day is not when you graduate, but that graduation is a process you started when you entered kindergarten. Graduation is a process you started when you entered middle school and graduation is a process you started when you entered North Pitt High. You have been graduating every year, every month, day and hour you have been in school. If you just look at “the day” you graduate, you will never make it. Even the person that fails every class and ends up dropping out of school wanted to graduate at one time or another. So what is the difference? A PLAN! Most of you, by the fact you are juniors, have made a plan to graduate. Whether it was a long range or a day to day plan, you have had one. So today I congratulate you on making it this far, but the journey is not over yet. Next year, you will be seniors, but the journey will not be over yet. Many of you will get what is famously called Senioritis. Don’t fall in that trap. Don’t let the immediate satisfaction that you have almost made it and laziness keep you from your plan.

     You have always been told that high school graduates have better opportunities than those who fail to graduate or get their GED. Let’s look at that. According to the Alliance for Excellence Education, statistics show that an average salary for a high school dropout is only $19,500. The average salary for a high school graduate is $27,380. That is a difference of a little less than $6000. But let’s go a little further than just our high school diploma. A college graduate earns around $46,000 a year. That is a huge difference. That will buy a bunch of oodles of noodles.

     So since you are all one year away from graduation day, let’s talk about something else beyond that date. That is your next step. You see, just like all of the other dates, graduation from North Pitt is not the end, but it is a new beginning. It is nothing more than a transition to something else. You graduated from elementary school, but it was not ever then. It was a transition to middle school. You graduated from middle school, but it wasn’t over then. It was a transition to high school. So naturally, graduation from North Pitt is merely a transition to something else and hopefully something better.

     I love to listen to famous speeches in history and my favorite is Martin Luther King’s March on Washington speech better known as the “I have a dream” speech. About half way through that speech, Dr. King asked in reference to civil rights, “When will you be satisfied?” From the crowd a man yelled, “Never!” I challenge you today to never be satisfied where you are. When you leave North Pitt, make something better of your life. Don’t let graduation from high school be the pinnacle of your life. Go to college, go to technical school or join the military. Do something to better yourself and the family you will have in the future. Hopefully you will one day marry and have a wonderful family. So my question for you today is “Are you satisfied?” Are you just going to be satisfied with a high school diploma? That diploma will not do you one bit of good or earn you one penny unless you use it. I have told you that high school graduates make more than drop outs and that college graduates make more than just high school graduates; so what are you going to do with that information. Are you satisfied with living with your parents the rest of your life? Are you satisfied with taking just any job out there and working you butt to death for minimum wage? Are you satisfied? I challenge you to never be satisfied. Don’t just be satisfied with graduating from high school. Graduate, go out and make your mark on this world and make that mark a positive one that benefit everyone. NEVER BE SATISFIED! And no matter what, always remember, Big Daddy Loves YOU!

"Uncle Clarence" and "Aunt Hattie"

(You will have to forgive my rambling and possible poor grammar, it is late!) From my earliest memory until around the age of 10 I lived beside a small country store named Taylor’s Grocery. However it was more than a country store, it was an information hub for those who lived around Plymouth. The owners of the store were Clarence and Hattie Taylor, but to me they were “Uncle Clarence” and “Aunt Hattie.” Now “Aunt Hattie” was always “Aunt Hattie,” but to most people, “Uncle Clarence” was “Bulldog.” They had a daughter named Bertie and she helped take care of me when I was a kid. Now you may ask, “Why in the world are you rambling about this tonight out of the blue?” Well, I will tell you. Tonight I went to the freezer to see what kind of goodies we had, and what should I see, but Brown Mule popsicles. Brown Mule popsicles are vanilla ice cream coated with a hard chocolate shell and was my FAVORITE snack at “Uncle Clarence’s.” It was even better if I could have a chocolate drink too! As I sat down and savored every bite, I thought about all of those days I spent hanging out at the store. I would watch all the “old” farmers come and go but not until they had sat down and talked for a while. It wasn’t the items in the store that were the attraction; it was the sitting area to the right as you walked in the store that was the focal point. One of the areas to sit (and I call it that because I don’t know what exactly it was) was a spring type cot with a thin cushion located right and in front. I can still hear the squeak as people would sit down and get up. I also remember a stove against the right hand wall that heated the store. Now, any one and everyone were welcome to sit anywhere, but you DID NOT sit in the rocking chair in the corner. That was “Bulldog’s” chair. Now don’t get me wrong, he was not mean about it…. as a matter of fact, I cant remember him ever being mean, but it was just understood. Some people would sit there, but just as soon as “Bulldog” was through waiting on customers, they got back up and let him have his chair. To the left of the door were the goodies and the cooler that held my Brown Mules. Against the wall was the drink cooler with glass bottles and tops that had to be pried off with the opener built into the drink box or by a hand opener. My family, like most around, had a charge account at the store. It was a pad with our name on the spine, and I was allowed to charge my snacks and drinks. This was also the place I had my first “job.” I was paid a quarter to pick up the drink tops that “Uncle Clarence” would throw out the back door when he emptied the drink box bottle opener bin. They were thrown there to fill in the holes in the driveway. I mean, who needs rocks when you can have Sunkist, Pepsi and Mountain Dew in it’s place. I remember picking up those tops, getting my quarter from “Uncle Clarence” and then I would head home. One day, I saw him take all the tops I picked up, and throw them right back out. It was not until later that I realized that he had me pick up those tops just so I could have something to do. He threw them back, just so I could have some more the next day to pick up…and of course fill in the holes. So as I sat back and ate my Brown Mule, all these memories came flooding back. So I raised my Mule to you, “Uncle Clarence” in tribute to a great man and all the other great men that helped form so many memories of my childhood.

Bill Askew Motors

(The following are my memories and are told as truths. Your memories may vary) Spending time back in my hometown of Plymouth always brings back old memories. Whether it is time on the river, eating at Little Man or riding by the ball park, the memories flood back into my mind at every turn. I was able to spend the night at my parents last night in order to leave this morning for a hunting club work day in Beaufort County. Driving down Highway 32 I passed a house I have passed many times in my 44 years. It was the house of Bill Askew, a used car dealer there in town. Now when I say he was a used car dealer, he was not the stereotypical used car dealer. As I remember, he was always eager to help and if you had a car in mind, he would either find it for you or let you go with him to “the sale” to be able to pick out your own. His used car lot was a piece of property adjacent to his house that was always lined up with 5, 6 or 7 cars. To my recollection, every car my parents and I had until I graduated high school came from Bill Askew. I can see him in my mind, sporting his gray “G.I” haircut, sitting at the counter on the green bar stools working out a deal on a “new” car for our family. Today, however, there were no cars, no customers and no building where he kept countless records of sales and what not on that lot. Mr. Bill passed away sometime back and I am sure that I have passed by since, but today the emptiness of that lot seemed to strike me. Its not like there are no places to buy and sell cars anymore, Plymouth has Feyer Ford that will sell you a new or used car but Bill Askew was the “old school” used car dealer. The man that would buy a few cars to resale and put a little extra change in his pocket. There are very few of these “home used car lots” left around. These lots have given way to the big dealer in small towns...much like other small businesses. So tonight, here is a toast to Bill Askew Motors...used car salesman and memory maker for a little boy in a small town.

I am a proud father....

I have known many happy times in my life, but never have I dared to rank them. Each one is as special as the other depending on the situation. I had another of those moments tonight. As most of you know, hunting is a family heritage and I have tried to pass that along to my sons, Evan and McCoy. McCoy has had some success hunting but has never taken a buck. Tonight, that changed. He had asked to go still hunting one day this week but we could not go Monday so today I went by to get him from school on my way home. We hurried home, packed up and left for the woods. A friend of mine, Jody, had told us that we could hunt a spot that he had picked out and cleared. Now, that is a good friend. We got settled down and waited….and waited…and waited. We killed time thumb wrestling, of which I won all, but it is getting harder and harder. We watched squirrels and laughed about nothing at all.

About 6:05 or so, McCoy saw a deer in the shooting lane and said “Daddy, it’s a doe.” I looked at it and told him that it was not, that it was a buck and to get ready to shoot him. I told him to relax and put the cross hairs behind his shoulder, although I am not sure if I was trying to calm him down or me! He fired his shot and I saw the deer buckle and leave the lane. I knew he was hit, but did not know how bad. I usually would want to give a deer about 30 or 45 minutes before I go to look for him, but the sun was setting and I had to go find him. We found the blood trail and tracked him through the woods for a short while by flashlight. We stopped once and McCoy told me he smelled something and then told me to turn around and the deer was lying not 15 yards from us. What followed afterwards is unexplainable. We high fived, fist pumped and knuckle hit while I laughed with excitement…again I think more so than he. I got the four-wheeler and brought the deer home to show off to everyone I had not already sent a picture message to!

I can not thank my friend, Jody, enough for allowing us to take advantage of all his hard work. Only those fathers that have gone through this can identify with my feeling of pride tonight.

I AM JOINING THE MARINES: PART FOUR

The early days are starting to catch up to me, but every minute is worth it!
Today we were up in time to catch the recruits doing physical training (PT). We arrived before they did and could hear then marching in the dark to our location. That in itself was impressive as the darkness was broken by the uniform footsteps of about 200 or so recruits. As the sun came up, we could hear cheers and bells ringing in the background as tomorrow’s graduates ran their last before they became Marines. We quickly moved along the road to see them all run by. It was impressive to see these young men and women who had just endured 12 weeks of boot camp with the culminating event of “The Crucible” come by with all smiles as they knew that in just one day all the hard work would be rewarded with each of them being Marines!
Once we left the cadet run, we made our way to the recruit barracks where we were given a demonstration by the drill instructors (DIs) to what the recruits would see the first day assigned to their barracks. Again, out of respect and tradition, we were not allowed to take videos but I can tell you that I had chills all over me as they went through their routine. I am so impressed with the DIs dedication. They are up before the recruits (about 3 am) and up long after the recruits are in bed. To the drill instructors, their role is more than a job. They are preparing these young men and women and transforming them into what will become a warrior. Also, along the way, they transform them into great men and women. Evidence of their effectiveness is that, even after only two days, our DI has a group of teachers marching in formation and filling gaps and “covering” where there is an absence without being told! That is a great accomplishment…she should get a promotion!
After lunch we were able to see certain phases of “The Crucible”*, the last and I dare say the most intense of the entire recruit training. As these weary eyed recruits completed each task, you could see the weeks of training had paid off. No longer was the DI yelling at them, but they had become that “big brother” and “mentor” to the recruits. Teachers could do well to learn from these DIs. Even in “I gotcha” moments where the DI can blast a recruit, they also take the time to explain to them what was done wrong, why it was wrong and the correct way to do the task.
The day was completed with a little time on the range firing the M16A4. That was really fun; however, I could have shot about 100 rounds. It is a wonderful weapon with little to no recoil. Everyone had a great time with it and the instructors were very patient with all of us during our briefing and shooting.
Tomorrow we leave, but even though I am ready to get home, I will miss the atmosphere and camaraderie I have experienced down here. It is a whole different life in Parris Island!
*You can look up The Crucible for the Marines on youtube.com to get an idea of what they go through

I AM JOINING THE MARINES: PART THREE

My new saying on my bad days teaching will be, “Smile, I could have been a Marine!” Today has shed a new light on any “bad day” teaching I may have. I have always respected people in uniform; however, I have found a new respect for anyone who decides to become a Marine. I will give you a run down of our day:
It began at O 600 when a pretty young lady stepped onto our bus and began yelling out orders to the top of her lungs. Of course we did not get it correct, no matter what she told us. We stood on the famous “yellow footsteps” while we were told everything we needed to know which we quickly forgot. I can tell you I felt physically sick as I stood there thinking what a new recruit must be thinking at this point in their enlistment. I know I am leaving Friday, but THEY know they are there for 12 weeks. We then marched “quickly” into the receiving room where we were “briefed” as to what a new recruit would expect within the first week after arriving at Parris Island. Afterwards we marched “quickly” (that was the new phrase for the day…everything “quickly”, which means faster than you are doing it!) to another building where we were briefed and received once again. Of course, we were yelled at the whole way because we could not follow the orders given to us or even stay in a line.
We were allowed later to shoot the M16 A4 at the simulator. I think I am hooked now, because I want one!! I scored 115 out of 120 and was pretty proud of myself until one lady in our group shot a perfect score. Tomorrow we shoot the real thing!
Leaving there, we went to eat lunch with some of the recruits. The recruit I was able to eat with was from Rocky Mount and had graduated from South West Edgecombe in 2009. He explained to us that he had attended college but could not really find his niche or what he wanted to do. He and his mom didn’t really get along after she remarried so he moved in with his grandma and eventually joined the Marine Corps because there were no other opportunities. I was touched as I saw this young man speak with words way beyond his years. By his own admission, the Marine boot camp program had made him a better man and person. He told us, as many of us around him were in tears, how he had made contact again with his mom, even though he did not think their separation was “his fault”, but because it was the right thing to do because SHE was HIS mom and he should do it. WOW…talk about making sound decisions and having respect! We bid him farewell and good luck in his months before his November graduation. I think the biggest thing I have taken from today is that the Marine Corps doesn’t just make great warriors, they make great men and women first!
Next in our day was a trip to the “Leatherneck Station” and the “Confidence Course”. While there we were given a Marine martial arts and a Pugile stick fighting demonstration. Afterwards, we were able to get in there and fight with the instructors. I was so happy and proud when I was the first to score a point against one of them. However, I think the only thing I accomplished was to make him mad! The next point was earned by him after he blocked my “bayonet jab” and proceeded to hit me HARD on the left side of my head! Even with the helmet and padding, it still rocked me a little. The master instructor ended it there with all three of us laughing and a friendly pat on the back. I was later impressed as the instructors gave us demonstrations on how to navigate the various obstacles on the Confidence Course.
We finished the night with dinner at the Officer’s Club. It was very nice but the most interesting part was the bar attached to it. It is called the “Santini Bar” because scenes from the movie, The Great Santini were filmed in the bar while the movie was made at Parris Island. The bar is full of memorabilia from different companies that have their own plagues around the bar. In the back is a brick wall where you can throw bottles against to break them…a Marine tradition. There was no filming or pictures allowed in the bar out of respect for them.
Today has been a great day and my respect for these men and women has grown tremendously!

I AM JOINING THE MARINES: PART TWO

Today was a day full of driving…and driving…and driving.
We left this morning a little after “0 700” because true to form, teachers have a really hard time going by a schedule…much to the dismay of Captain Prather. We drove to Charleston, SC to eat lunch, stopping only once at a rest stop. It really wasn’t that bad. I have never been this far south in South Carolina and it is beautiful here…except for the rain. Once we arrived at our hotel in Beaufort, we had a little down time until 500pm. (1700) We then loaded the bus and made our way to Parris Island to eat dinner. I had the privilege to sit with Captain Prather and learned a lot about him. He graduated from the United States Naval Academy at Annapolis. Captain Prather was a pilot in Iraq before he was given the job he has now in the recruiting office in Raleigh. He is now medically unable to fly because of hearing loss. He is a very interesting Marine.

Once at Traditions, one of the dining halls on Parris Island, we were briefed by the base PR man and he also told us that the Marine Drill Instructors had a “special” surprise for us tomorrow morning. He also told us that the bus is leaving at o 550 tomorrow morning. After a wonderful dinner I walked through the hallways of the dining hall looking at pictures from Parris Island’s past. It was neat to look at the history of the base. Before I left, my dad told me that my grandfather was at Parris Island in the mid 40s. I found a picture from that time period and thought about how it may have looked when he was there. It was kind of neat. I then went through the hall taking pictures of the memorabilia hung around. As we left, we were given some great gifts…a leather attaché bag, a USB drive, Marine Corps DVD and a draw bag to carry our things around tomorrow. We all came back to the hotel to get ready for our early morning.

Going to hit the sack now….O 430 will come early!

I AM JOINING THE MARINES: PART ONE

…..Don’t worry mom, it’s only for a week.
My trek began this morning at around 10 am as I made my way to Raleigh to meet up with the Marine Corps representatives. At check-in, I received my packet, my room mate assignment and was “ordered” to meet back down at 6 pm to be briefed about our agenda for the night and morning. Captain Prather let us know what the Marines could do for our students and told a few stories about some recruits that we would see. We were told that we would be able to see a graduation on Friday….that sounds exciting. One thing that the Captain told us is that when we reach Parris Island tomorrow, we will be assigned our guides and they are all drill instructors. He also kind of smiled when he said they had a little something special for us when we got off the bus. Now I have seen Full Metal Jacket and if we have a man like R. Lee Ermey yelling at us, I am going to freak out!
After our briefing, we headed down to the restaurant downstairs to eat dinner…on the Marine Corps of course. It was fun talking to other educators from all over the state while we had dinner. We leave tomorrow morning at 7 am (or as Captain Prather said, “O 700) to board the bus headed to Parris Island which will take about 6 hours. WOW! I better get to bed…it’s going be an early morning. I will post more tomorrow night!

The Dreaded Word!

If the word “cancer” is one of the most feared words in the English language or in any language, then “I have cancer” has to be the most dreaded phrase ever spoken. That dread and fear is intensified more when those words come from the mouth of a loved one. The night my mother said those words to us seems like ages ago. As she sat on our sofa and told us she had just gotten her test back and it was not good news…she had cancer. I sat there in disbelief! This happens to other people, but not my mom. I was in shock and much of the time after that is blank in my memory. I can’t tell you what was said or done. I just sat there. It is the first time that my mother’s mortality had ever crossed my mind. After my parents left, I went outside and lay in the glider out at the barn. The sky was clear and all the stars sparkled. I thought to myself, “What in the world are we going to do?” (Like I had a lot to do with any of it!) Then as I looked up, the answer hit me. We were going to do it just like everyone else who has ever had cancer did it…one day at a time. I knew my parent’s faith would give them strength and that God was with my mother, but there are always uncertainties and “what ifs”. But I would not let that cross my mind. My sister and I would talk and assure each other that “everything would be ok.” You see, I saw a T-shirt once that said:

THERE ARE TWO THINGS THAT I AM CERTAIN OF
1. THERE IS A GOD
2. I AM NOT HIM

I used these words to assure myself that God was in control.

In the following days, I witnessed very amazing events. I saw strength in my mom I had never seen. I saw my dad’s devotion to my mom grow in a way that I had never seen before; a devotion that had never been needed until now. And my sister…my sister went from being my “little” sis, to a “grown up”…a great support for us all, especially my mother. She went to all of mom’s appointments and explained everything that was going to happen; many that I did not want to hear. But what about me? What would I do? As a son, I really did not want to hear all the details. I could not go and sit through the appointments where they discussed doing surgery on my mom; but I wanted to be a support for her. Then came the answer. I am somewhat of an outdoorsman and I had heard of a gentleman that made paracord wilderness bracelets for a company named Paracord Joes*. So I went to his website and told him my story. I asked if he could make me a pink survival bracelet and Mr. Prevatte said he would be happy to and then helped me through the ordering process. It was obvious that it became important to him, because he started work on my custom bracelet immediately, even before he received payment. In less than a week, I received it and began to wear it. Of course, I received some funny looks. I mean, a man wearing a pink bracelet! Some asked why and I told them my mom had breast cancer and it was my way of supporting her.

The day of her surgery came and we all met at the hospital…EARLY! (Why doctors insist on getting folks up at the crack of dawn to cut on them, I will never know!) What I saw that day astounded me. People came in droves to support my mom. Her visitors filled and took over the whole waiting room. There were more than 25 people there and all stayed the whole four hours of her surgery. I was overwhelmed by their caring support. Those people took half of their day to sit in a hospital waiting room to show my family how greatly my mom was loved. My only regret is that I did not have them all sign a card and take a picture of all the people gathered.

I am happy to say that other than a few unexpected extra days of recovery in the hospital, my mom’s recovery has been fantastic. God has truly blessed our family. She got word from her doctors that she is cancer free; no chemotherapy, radiation or medicine needed! Christmas was a very special time this year. The greatest gift of all was being together and knowing that mom was ok. We opened gifts and did a lot of hugging and crying…except this time they were tears of joy. Mom and dad are going to Hawaii in March, which is amazing because they rarely go anywhere for that long or far away. And as for my pink survival bracelet, I still wear it but my story has changed. I no longer tell people “My mom HAS cancer”; I tell them “My mom HAD cancer.” It is no longer a “survival” bracelet. It has become a “SURVIVOR’S” bracelet; a wonderful reminder of the strength of a mother, the devotion of a family, the greatness of friends and wonderful grace of God.

*JT Prevatte can be contacted at paracordjoes.com. There is a full list of items for sale on that site.

McCoy's School Story

McCoy, my oldest son, had to write a story on bullying ...or should I say anti-bullying for school. I asked him if he would like to put it on here and he said he would. He is a creative writer. I am so proud of him.



One normal day at Bethel School a new kid came to the sixth grade class. When school was over he would walk to the bus and a kid named Brice would shove him and knock his books from his hands. Then when he would sit down other kids would call him names like “dumb, ugly, and stupid.” C.J., the new kid wouldn’t tell his mom because he thought it was babyish. The next day the same things happened. He didn’t know why kids didn’t like him. The kids at his old school kids liked him.

After a month of being bullied, he told his mom. She said just to ignore them and they will probably stop. He tried that but it didn’t work.

Then one day, he met a kid in the other class named Phil. Phil knew Brice and told him to stop but Brice didn’t stop. So Phil told Brice if he didn’t stop he would tell the assistant principal. Brice didn’t care though. So Phil told the assistant principal and Brice got in a lot of trouble. His mom took him to a new school. From then on Phil and CJ were best friends. Everybody liked CJ now. Nobody bullied him again.

Crawford's Hardware: More Than Just a Hardware Store

If you want to talk about good old hometown stores that are quickly fading, you have to talk about Crawford’s Hardware. Alton Crawford has been operating Crawford’s Hardware in Bethel for about twenty years. In a time where the old community hardware stores are giving way to the big chains, Alton Crawford is fighting the system tooth and nail to provide a service to the people of Bethel; friendly service and products convenient to their location. If Crawford’s doesn’t have it and he can get it, in a few days he will have it in for you. If you need tools, there they are waiting to be plucked from the wall to go home with you. When spring rolls around, you can find all types of seeds for summer crops. If plants are what you want, he has those out front; many of those are locally grown also. People come from miles around to buy their summer crops. Many people find the same type of seeds that their parents grew when they were children. After you plant them, you come back and buy the fertilizer to make them grow, weed killer to keep them clean, and the insecticide to keep the bugs away. All of this can be found in one convenient location!
But that is not the main reason I write this article. I write to talk about what is priceless; what can not be purchased across the counter at any store but can be found at small community stores across America; a sense of community and fellowship. Everyday, two or three times a day, you can find men sitting in the back of the store solving the world’s problems one drink and nab at a time. You can hear conversations from current events, local happenings, weather or how so and so’s crops are doing. In the summer, you are sure to hear, “How are your peanuts doing?” or “How is the corn?” or “How much rain did you get last night?” The topics change, but you are always sure to see a group down there talking. The topic of conversation that I love the most is the “good ole days”. The groups of the “old timers” are quickly dwindling as the years catch up to them and many of those conversations and stories about “the good old days” are dwindling with them. I fear that many of my and the following generations are going to miss out on a part of history.
But today I saw something that I thought was pretty neat. Without prompting, the future of Crawford’s Hardware “bus seat” discussions came walking in. Their ages varied from 8 years old to 11 years old. They fell right into place. Nicholas, a third generation visitor, came in and sat in the chair that his granddad sat in for decades rocked back and forth. Jonathan sat on the old wooden chair whose seat has long come unfastened from the frame. McCoy and Paul made their way to the old bus seat that has heard the stories of many over the years. Left empty was the bar stool. It is reserved for those who are old enough and legs are long enough to reach the floor; but still have their equilibrium in tact to stay atop of it! I thought as I watched them if when I am gone, will there still be a Crawford’s Hardware for them to gather. Will they be able to bring their children in to get a drink and nab and to talk about the happenings in Bethel. More than that, when Alton has long hung up his cash register, will there be someone behind the counter to provide such a vivid look into small town culture.

My Little Sis

August 16, 2010
Thirty-two years ago today, around 3 pm, (Mom and I argue about the time…it was 2:59 by the way), my life changed forever. On that day, my little sister was born. I was almost 11 and for all those years I had been an only child. There was nobody to have to share my “stuff” with, nobody tagging along with me and nobody to look after. I was excited, but had no idea what was in store around the corner. I remember the day mom went to the hospital. I almost caused trouble when I went down the road to try to get a dog from under a neighbor’s house. Well, maybe it was not my fault…mom and dad did not tell me that Paula was on the way. They took me to my Aunt Polly and Uncle Sid’s house to stay until the “bundle of joy” arrived. It was there that I wrecked my bike trying to hurry back to the house to get the call that Paula was here. I still have the scars to prove it! But never the less, the call came and Paula was here. She was so cute when she came home and I soon realized that all the things that others dread were not in store for me. There were so many years between us that she did not want to play with the toys that I had…oh except for the Tonka truck she cracked me in the head with, she did not want to tag along with me and when she did it was OK because I was looking out for my little sister. As we got older, it was neat to be able to “baby sit” her when mom and dad had to leave. And when school started, people would say, “Oh, you must be Phil’s sister.” By the way, she did not like that I think. That was OK, because after I had graduated, I had lost my identity at school because then I became, “Paula’s brother.”
Then came her graduation and she moved to Wilmington and I hated not seeing her as often. All would be good, however, because she moved to Greenville after graduation from college, (which for your sake, Paula, we will not go in to) and then I realized what little sisters were all about! When she moved back her most important role in the family was that of “Aunt Paula”. She let the boys spend the night with her and of course she let them do what they wanted….stayed up late, ate sweets, slept on the sofa and have the “good pillow”! Let’s not even talk about the stuff she bought them. It has been great to have her play such a big part in my boy’s lives. Of course I still give her a hard time…but that is what big brothers are for, right? Yes, thirty-two years ago my life was changed…but for the better! I can’t imagine my life without my little sister in it. She is the best ever…if you don’t believe me, just ask my sons! Happy Birthday Paula, we love you…and it is OK that you are the favorite!

On the Water

I spent a great day on the Roanoke River with my family yesterday. Although they did not know it, I replayed my childhood over and over in my mind. These were the same miles of river I had skied, knee boarded, and ridden on growing up. It took me back to the days of learning to ski behind a 14 foot, tiller steer boat. Then later I would graduate to a Ski Nautique which was a very new experience. My friend Stanley showed me the finer points of skiing that I could not find behind that little 14 foot boat. Yesterday, I motored those same miles in my boat with my family. Even though my friends growing up were like family; this time it was my real family. I saw the smiles on my son’s face that I am sure that were on mine over 25 years ago. We stopped and fished along the same lily pads as I did. I wondered to myself if those pads had grown older like me and had seen the hoards of passing boaters over the years. However, I did hold back on taking them to the pads where my dad and I caught White Perch when I was a teen. I would meet him after work and fish from the shores seemingly pulling them in with every cast. Those will be for another day!

Then it was time for the final trip down memory lane. We drove the 5 or so miles by river to the Albemarle Sound and took a right to head to Albemarle beach. I spent many days each summer swimming along its shores, having cookouts and digging up clam shells from its muddy bottom. I have seen people baptized in it waters and even once walked on its frozen surface. We would always marvel at how far we could walk away from the shore and still be able to touch bottom. As I pulled the boat up to the shallows, I anchored the boat and watched my boys do cannon balls off the side. As another grin wiped across my face I had to do it….I made sure my pockets were empty, took off my shirt and showed the youngsters how to do it. Instantly I went back in time. No longer was I a 42 year old adult; I was a kid and teen again. I showed the boys how to dig up the clams with our feet although they were not as excited about digging in the bottom of the sound as I was. But as all good things go, these too had to come to an end. We all got back in the boat, weighed anchor and made our way back to river where the ramp waited for us.

I have spent the last day thinking about yesterday, the fun I was able to share with my boys and have been proud to introduce them to my memories.

The Swing

He spoke of the past as if it had just happened and as he spoke, we soaked in his words like water to a shriveling plant. It was as if our father, though he was not that old, was telling us of OUR past, not his. His face lit up as he talked of the “old days” and “old ways”. He brought his friends to give credence and to bear witness to his stories. He welcomed us to his home as if we had known each other forever, even though it had only been a few days. And there we met the swing. There had been mention of it by him and his friends, but seeing it gave it life. It had the wear of the ages on its boards and the paint was worn off from years of use. Then came the time to give us the demonstration. He showed it as a proud father shows how his children plays an instrument, sings or shoots a gun…whatever impresses upon fathers to brag. As he coaxed the swing into movement the years fell off of him with every arc through the air. Quickly he was a child again. His face glowed with excitement of the memories of the past. He showed how he could jump out and then back in again without even causing it to stop. We asked him his age and I am still not sure we were told the truth by anyone, but I do know that for just a moment, thanks to an old swing, he was 10 again. I can imagine as he spends hours in that swing alone he can feel the presence of his family there as they were when he was young. Maybe we have gotten to far from the simple things of life. There is something to say about swings, porches and good friends. It is what keeps us young and gives us therapy. So go back and find that part of your childhood that remains inside you. Let it breath and bring back the joys we once had.

Good-bye My Friend

There are quite a few things I have done in my life that was hard…but none as hard as the decision I have to make. I have begged and pleaded for my dog to peacefully die by himself, but it does not seem that will be the case. Today the kids and Rebecca came home to find him in the goldfish pond and not being able to get out. I guess that he was going once more to be in the water, a place he loved when he was young. When I got home, Rebecca had gotten him out and was warming him because he was so cold. I laid with him and finally brought him into the garage and we both laid together through the afternoon. As he slowly stopped shaking, he tried so hard to breath. I thought that he would go at any time, but again, it was not to be so. He finally laid down his head and rested. His breathing finally calmed and he was fine throughout the evening. We just went back out to tell him good night and to cover him up to stay warm. Once again I told him that it was time and ok for him to leave…that he had been a great dog and friend throughout the years. Then I spent time pleading with God to take him so I would not have to go through making the decision to take him to the vet in the morning to have him “put down”. That sounds so terrible! So as he spends his last night on this earth, my heart breaks as the hours pass until I have to take him to the vet. It is the hardest I have ever made. I guess it is a part of growing up and if it is, I want no part of it.

My Buddy Sinjin

This is Sinjin. He has been my buddy since 1997. I guess you could say he was Rebecca and my’s first child. A couple here in Bethel had a litter and I decided to get a dog but Rebecca wasn’t too keen on the idea! I remember the day we went to look at them. All the others ran around the yard…all except Sinjin. He mad a bee line for Rebecca, crawled up in her lap and went to sleep. He had her! Before we left, she told me that he was the one. So we made the deal and Sinjin was ours.
We took him to our new house and the older he got, the more he tormented Rebecca! He would take her gloves and run around the yard with them. As quickly as she planted flowers, he would dig them back up and he even went as far as peeing on her when she was planting them. You see, he had become my buddy and he did not want to share me with her.
We went hunting when he was trained and though he was not a field trial perfect dog, he did a great job for me. He worked hard to please me and often proved me wrong when I thought I knew where the duck would fall. There were times that I would shoot at the ducks, miss them and he would give me that look. During the winter it was not unusual to see him in the swamp with ice in his hair; but it did not seem to bother him…the colder the better! He would not think twice about jumping in the middle of a frozen swamp to get a downed bird.
Now he is in bad shape. We are not sure what is wrong with him, but he has lost 20lbs since last June. The vet has said he has a mass on his liver, along with other problems and an enlarged heart. Without doing more tests like biopsy or exploratory, they will not know what the problem is. Here is the kicker; with his heart the way it is, even if we did know what was wrong he is very high risk and the vet does not recommend him going under anesthesia. We are going to try a new diet and some antibiotics to try to keep infection and the gases from building up in him. Hopefully it will help him some IF I can get him to eat. That is another problem in itself. If that does not work, I don’t know what I am going to do….well I do know what I HAVE to do, but I don’t like the thought of it!
Just thought I would write some for therapy. Thanks for listening.

Whew, I made it to 42!

Well, it has been a long time since my last entry but man I have been busy. I have been working on my National Boards (If you have never heard of it, it is something that educators have developed that is meant to test your Christianity) and I have not had a lot of time to dedicate to “idle” writing. I just mailed it off Tuesday, so tonight I decided to write a few lines.
Tomorrow I will be 42 years old. Now anyone that is near that age can remember that when we were younger, 42 was really old. I think back to when my dad was in his 40s, and I thought he was old as dirt. But to tell you the truth, I don’t feel that old. Whether you believe in “40 is the new 30” or what, I am not or don’t feel like an old man. Rarely do younger people think I am that old so I feel good about how I have aged. Beyond the not “looking old”, there are many things I have to be thankful for.
In my years of living, I have met some great people and have had the opportunity to do wonderful things. I was blessed to have two loving parents that did everything they could for me. I have really come to appreciate that since I have taught in the public school system. There are so many kids that do not have that, are lacking the love of a father and/or mother and so many times those of us that have both take it for granted. So thanks Mom and Dad!!
I have had great friends; whether it is friends from the past or my friends of a few years, God has blessed me to have way more friends than enemies. Off the top of my head, I don’t know of any people who can’t stand me!! (Uh, if you are one, don’t tell me and crush my feelings) I could never begin to try to name them all, I would never dare to, but I would like to mention some groups. My high school friends that shaped my personality have been a blessing. I often think of you guys when I am teaching and one of my students do something to remind me of you. My college friends, who helped shape my beliefs and help to usher me into “adulthood” were great. My college roommates that were there through the good and the bad…we had great times didn’t we. And then my Bethel friends of my adulthood…I am blessed beyond words to have you in my life. You are there for my family and have truly shown what it is to be a “community”. There are people who live in proximity to each other that are called a “community”, but that is not what I mean. You guys are a family to us. That is special!
Then there are the friends that have helped me through the tough times and have always reminded me that there is a higher power to where I should always give the glory. I have had great Christian leaders in my life other than my mom and dad and I know that God has put them in my life. Howard Plummer, Stan Parker, Stanley Allen, Mike Smith, Jody Keen…and in the past year, Heath Faircloth has helped to feed my hungry soul and have been ears and voice when I needed them. (Although, if Heath doesn’t stop stepping on my toes on Sunday morning, I am going to start wearing safety shoes!) You guys are the greatest!
And lastly, I would like to mention my family. God has blessed me with a wonderful wife and two great boys. Along with my wife, he has blessed me with the extended family of my in-laws. Many people talk bad and make jokes about their in-laws, but I can not even begin to tell you how great mine are. There is not a bad word to be said about them. My father and mother in law do anything in the world for me (of course, it may be because their daughter married me!) Rebecca’s brother, sister and their families are wonderful. Before I was married, if you would have asked me to describe the perfect in-laws, I would have fallen short of the task. Mine have gone far beyond any description I could have given. Thanks for raising a wonderful daughter and accepting me into you family.
So, God, thank you for blessing me with 42 great years of life. Thank you for always being there for me, placing the people in my path I needed and for giving me a wonderful family of uncles, aunts and cousins. If I have 42 more, then that is a plus….but if this is my last, I have no complaints. You have blessed me far beyond my ability to repay you other than trying to live my life the best I can. Forgive me when I fail!

Psalm 23....Personalized!

1 The LORD is my shepherd, I shall not be in want.

(“But God, sometimes I do want…I want things to go my way…to be easy. I want stuff, to be happy, to have fun!”)

2 He makes me lie down in green pastures,
he leads me beside quiet waters,

(“But God, sometimes the waters get so rough and are not still anymore. The pastures are sometimes full of wolves waiting for me to stumble to devour me”)

3 he restores my soul.

(“Oh, God, but you have to restore my soul so many times…Don’t you get frustrated with me?”)

He guides me in paths of righteousness
for his name's sake.
4 Even though I walk
through the valley of the shadow of death, [a]
I will fear no evil,

(“But I do get scared”)

for you are with me;
your rod and your staff,
they comfort me.

(“Oh, so many times I would like to take that staff and just knock…sorry God, got a little carried away…but you know how I get”)

5 You prepare a table before me
in the presence of my enemies.

(“MY ENEMIES!? I am around them all the time and they don’t care about me!”)

You anoint my head with oil;
my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and love will follow me
all the days of my life,

(“Well, I am waiting!”)

and I will dwell in the house of the LORD
forever.

“Oh, yeah Lord, I remember when I wanted that new truck and the money worked out and I got it…but, oh yeah, the hunting I enjoy so much and I can always get what I want for that too. The kids I see everyday that can barely afford new clothes and food, Lord? Oh, yeah I do see how blessed I am. Sorry for that. Oh, you’re not through yet….

Oh, about the water being rough and the wolves? Yeah, I forgot where you told me that you would never leave me nor forsake me. Yeah, and the one about never giving me more than I can handle with your help…forgot that one too! Sorry…

I know you love me and don’t mind restoring my soul. That is what your grace and mercy is for? OK…

I know when I get scared you will never leave me. Yes, I know you love me and I will work on my anger and the whole knocking folks out with the staff thing.
About my enemies?...I know I am supposed to love them too…BUT…OK Lord, I will work on that too. Man I have a bunch of work to do!

I see your grace, love and mercy everyday. Forgive me for the times that I get a little selfish and take my eyes off of you. Help me to see others before me and to constantly do your will. It will take a lot of patience on your part, God…Oh you are used to it? Yeah, you do know me don’t you? Say you are used to it, huh. Thanks God and Good Night.”

My Getaway

I sat on the deck of the Hatteras Ferry, with the wind in my face, as it made its way toward Ocracoke and felt the weight of the world leave my shoulders. The only break in the darkness ahead of us was the flash of the red and green channel markers as the pilot made his way in between them…finding his way by spotlight, buoy to buoy; marker to marker. I am sure that the people lounging in their cars had to wonder why I had a big smile on my face…simple; I was going to my haven, my refuge, known simply as “the Island”. Nothing else needs to be said. As the lights of Hatteras grew smaller and faded behind me, replaced by the Ocracoke lights ahead, again I relaxed more and more. Some of you will know exactly what I am talking about...for those of you who have never experienced the feeling, I am sorry. As we neared the docks of Ocracoke, I could see the lights of flounder giggers in the water, probing for their elusive prey. The wake of the ferry caught one by surprise as he quickly made his way back to the shore before he was hit by the chilly wake of the boat.

Entering the village, Ocracoke is much different this time of the year than summer. We found the usual stores and restaurants that are usually bright and lively in July silent and dark in October. The sound of car engines, horns and chattering tourist have been replaced by only crickets and frogs. Oh, but the mosquitoes are the same! They quickly welcomed me back as if I was a long lost friend they had missed seeing. So I left them to themselves and made my way to the recliner where I wait to see what tomorrow brings but one thing is sure…I am at Ocracoke and no matter what, rain or shine, tomorrow will be a good day!

My Father has Cursed Me

Yes I said it, my father cursed me...He has cursed me never to go into the woods without looking for a "lighter stump". And if you think you have found one, it is imperative that you take out a knife and skin the wood exposing the inside and smell to see if it is "fat" or not. For those of you who don't know what a lighter stump is, it is a pine stump or log that has rotted down to the center or "heart" and now it has a high concentration of pitch in it so that it catches fire quickly and burns very hot. (Fat lightwood has more pitch) Now I know that you are wondering "what in the world are you talking about?" Let me try to explain.

When my dad and I used to go into the woods together to hunt, we would never come out empty handed. We heated our house with wood, so we had to bring out any lightwood we found. Now let me tell you, we had so much accumulated at the house by the time we stopped heating with wood that you could have burned the world, but did that keep my dad from getting more?...NOOO! You can never have enough. Well, I don't heat my house with wood, never have, but I still bring out stumps and logs every chance I get and make a mental note wherever I see a stump. And yes, I too have enough stored here to burn down a city block. Just today I was clearing lanes in the woods and found two stumps...and yes daddy, I took the machete, skinned the outside and checked for "fatness". (It was fat by the way)

This curse has caused me to be the brunt of jokes and even gotten me close to getting a ticket. My friends will laugh at me when I come out from hunting with the 4 wheeler loaded down with logs of lightwood. Once, while I was squirrel hunting, I picked up a log and took it to my car. When I got close, I put it down with the thought of going back and getting it when I put my gun up. Once I got to the car, a game warden was there and questioned me about what I had in my hand that I dropped. I tried to tell him but he did not believe me. I had to take him into the woods and show him...and yes I picked it up and brought it out. You see, I still would not pass the chance to bring it out like my dad taught me no matter what.

I have taken the pleasure here of late teaching my son how to start fires in our fire pit I was given for Father's Day. Every time I split some lightwood for kindling, I make the boys smell it. I have taught him how to start with a few sticks of lightwood on top of some newspaper, topped with some kindling and larger wood. (see daddy, I was paying attention) We all delight when the fire starts roaring and catching up. Just one more thing that I have enjoyed passing down to my children that my dad taught me.

And when my boys and I start going in the woods together more often, I will teach them to find a lightwood stump by sight and then to skin it and see if it is fat or not...and of course they will have to bring it out of the woods. :)