I was checking Facebook the other day and came across this “hook”:

Meet the Waltons: The Bizarre Family Behind Walmart

There followed two comments:

“Hated Grandma on that show. She was so grouchy.
And why didn’t John Boy just come out of the closet?
Like we all didn’t know!”

“I remember the first Walmart open
in Rogers, Arkansas on July 2, 1969.”

The old cliché says that a picture is worth a thousand words. Actually, an email from a friend revealed to me that thanks to current inflation, a picture is now worth only two hundred words, and as the price of everything else rises, the word value of a picture drops daily. Soon, words will be worth pictures!

A former teacher of mine recently gave me several books. One of them was titled The Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom. I believe this is the second time I have read the book, but if so the first was so long ago that I remembered none of the plot.

Occasionally in life the stars align themselves, sometimes they don’t. Sometimes I can see the alignment, sometimes I cannot.
I remember several years meteor showers were predicted. I got out of bed around 2:00 a.m., the reported best time to see them at my location, to witness this wonder of nature. For whatever reason, I did not see the expected phenomenon.

I begin with some questions for thought—Do you ever give advice? Do you like to give advice? If so, what does that say about your opinion of yourself? Do you ever receive advice from others, either solicited or unsolicited? How well do you receive advice from others? Are you better at giving or receiving advice? Are you one of those who could care less about either giving or receiving advice?

Last week I attended the monthly senior citizen luncheon at the Baptist church where I am a member. The pastor announced that next month that we would be doing something different—playing BINGO.
I leaned over and told one of the gentlemen sitting at the table with me, “We’re turning Catholic! Next thing you know we’ll be using real wine at the Lord’s Supper.”

The word “addiction” almost always has a negative connotation. I have a theory that everyone is addicted to something. While I believe that not all addictions are bad, I believe that any addiction can be both good and bad.
Take me, for example. I love to collect books. I also love to read them, but I find as much or more joy in the collecting. I learned on Jeopardy! there is a Japanese term for this—“tsundoku”.

At the time I am writing this article, it is the Tuesday afternoon of Easter Week. For Christians worldwide, Easter is the epitome of the Gospel story, as the resurrection of Christ from the dead makes it possible to inherit eternal life in Heaven.

I attended the Union County Opry this past Saturday evening. I was not there to enjoy the music, but to sell concessions for the Union County Lions Club with my nephew Joe. There was a gentleman there who once dated a member of our family. In the course of conversation, Joe asked this fellow who he married. He told his wife’s name, a name that was unfamiliar to both Joe and me. Joe said, “So you didn’t marry a Union County girl, huh?” The man replied that he was afraid to, as he might unknowingly be marrying his cousin.

Sometimes life can be like the mechanic that disassembled an entire car to find the rattle. It turns out the rattle was caused by a marble in the ashtray. To illustrate, let me share with you, Dear Reader, a grave tale.
My mother passed away in June 2004. One of her favorite flowers was the hydrangea. My sister Anna Mae chose one of Mother’s purple outfits for her burial, and the florist did a great job matching blue/purple hydrangeas for the arrangements.

I was working away one day at my computer when I heard a laugh just outside my door. Union County Mayor Jason Bailey was standing there. He asked, “Do you always talk to yourself like that?”

I just read a headline on my Facebook news feed titled “A Mother Says Her Son Was Sold in a Mock Slave Auction. School District Votes Unanimously on Action Plan.”

Mincey's Musings by Ronnie Mincey
I graduated from Lincoln Memorial University’s Ed.D. program in May of 2012. A sense of idealism seemed renewed in me as a result, and I felt a need to contribute something to the community in which I was raised and received my elementary and high school education. I decided to do three things to make myself a useful citizen.

It seems a lot of my most beloved relatives have passed away in February, most notably my revered great aunt Lidia Mincey and my two oldest siblings. I spent the end of February in nostalgic reflection. The week just passed had some dates of special significance to me.
February 24, 2022 my father would have turned 108. Two days later, February 26, 2022 marked the 40th anniversary to the day of his death.

I once received an email that included this description of a most loved past time—“Long ago, when men cursed and beat the ground with sticks, it was called witchcraft. Today, it’s called golf.”
My late brother J. C. Mincey loved the game. He once told me that during his life (I almost typed “lie”) he had hit six holes in one, but no one was present except himself any of the six times. My brother was a true legend, if nowhere else at least in his own mind.

My father’s youngest sister, my aunt Fleetie Thomas, lived at 2110 Hoitt Avenue in Knoxville for many years. The two rooms at the very front of her house and the two directly behind them each had two doors, meaning that if all four doors were opened at the same time a little boy could run himself silly in a circle. This was a practically a once in a lifetime opportunity, as the front bedroom was closed off year-round.

During the Christmas holidays I visited with some of my favorite relatives in another state. While there, I watched the movie Don’t Look Up. The movie was a doomsday type of story that satirized the public reception of pertinent news in the United States and the political response.

It does not surprise me in the least that when the serpent tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden that food was involved. The old adage says that a person should not live to eat, but eat to live. The problem with a lot of people is knowing where to draw the line at eating just enough to live, particularly during holidays and celebrations.

My sister Icy Madelene (aka Pat) McMurray is famous in our family for her belief in the restorative and healing properties of Vicks VapoRub. She has told me that this marvelous ointment can treat/cure anything.
Because of this, I was most interested in a Facebook post concerning the uses for Vicks VapoRub. I did a quick Google search on Vicks VapoRub and will relate below from memory some of the interesting things I discovered. You can do a Google search for more detailed information, but the Facebook post listed the following uses:

I was driving down the highway during my lunch break the week before Christmas, on my way to get my allergy shots. I was in the “fast lane,” and I believe any highway patrolman would have found my speed to have been appropriately within the bounds of the law, neither too fast nor too slow.