I was at the Union County Opry last Saturday. I was there to help sell concessions for the Union County Lions Club. I struck up a conversation with Debra Keck about all the rain we had received the previous week. That rain prevented me from mowing my yards. Now, on this lovely, sunshiny Saturday, I had been occupied all day with preparing for concession sales.

I am sure that if you looked up the meaning of “insanity” in an honest-to-goodness printed dictionary that several meanings of the word would be found. There are some that would say it is insane to use a printed dictionary as it is now so much easier to “look it up on Google”.
One definition of insanity used lots in education and business is “doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result”.

If you have children, you’ve probably asked them what happened at school, only to receive the standard reply, “Nothing.” I once received an email that pointed out that more pointed questions might elicit more conversation. The email suggested one hundred questions that parents/guardians could ask their children to stimulate discussion.

I have a neighbor who has many statues of animals in her yard. I jokingly told her one day, “I’m worried about your livestock. I’m afraid they’ll wander into the road and get killed or cause someone to wreck.”
I also expressed concern at what the cost must be to feed all those animals.
I have never been one to try to “keep up with the Joneses,” but sometimes life circumstances just present the opportunity.

I receive many emails. At least half of them are what I call email “e-commercials”. They pretty much immediately go to my trash folder. Today I received one of those emails, and though it went to the trash folder, the subject line did give me something to think about—expectations versus desires. This week’s article will focus on pleasant aspects of expectations.
The King James Version of the Bible has several things to say about expectation. Following are a few to ponder.

And Jesus said, Let her alone; why trouble ye her? she hath wrought a good work on me. For ye have the poor with you always, and whensoever ye will ye may do them good: but me ye have not always. She hath done what she could . . . (Mark 14: 6-8a KJV).

It is an old cliché that there are two things no one can escape in this world—death and taxes. Governments throughout history have supported themselves with taxes from their citizens. The Bible references taxation in several places. Jesus was born while his earthly parents were on a journey to be counted in a census in response to a decree that all the world should be taxed. One of Jesus’ disciples was a tax collector. Zacchaeus, who climbed a sycamore tree the Lord for to see, was a tax collector.

And the LORD’S anger was kindled against Israel,
and he made them wander in the wilderness forty years,
until all the generation, that had done evil in the sight of the LORD,
was consumed.
--Numbers 32:13 KJV

I once received an email from a friend which said, “No true Southern boy would ever say, “Here’s an episode of Hee Haw that we haven’t seen.” I’m sure that’s true, though a truly Southern boy would have said, “. . . that we ain’t seen.”
I noted that bluegrass banjo player and cast member of Hee Haw Roni Stoneman passed away this past Thursday, February 22, 2024.

When I was a kid I was no stranger to guns—that is, toy guns. All kinds of toy guns—from cap pistols to plastic machine guns—but never actual BB guns. My mother was too much like Ralphie in A Christmas Story, afraid I’d shoot my eyes out!

A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches,
and loving favour rather than silver and gold. (Proverbs 22:1 KJV)
My inspiration for this article came from a visit I made earlier today to Union County High School. There I began talking with office staff about mistakes that are made with respect to people’s names.
An article of mail had arrived for band instructor Hunter Collins. The package was not addressed to “Hunter”, but to “Hunger”.

One of the few records we had when I was growing up was titled A Night at the Grand Old Opry. The liner on back of the cover of the Harmony label album reads in part:
The Grand Old Opry is probably the most popular showcase for country music. Originated in 1925 by radio station WSM in Nashville, Tennessee, the Opry still packs people into Ryman Auditorium by the thousands every Saturday
night . . .
You’ll hear Billy Walker’s great . . . “Funny How Time Slips Away” . . .

I am most always a traditionalist. Once a movie or song has been successfully filmed or recorded, I find the quality of re-makes to be great disappointments. There are for me two exceptions, one a movie, the other a song.

Welcome to another new year, Dear Reader!
One of the things that helped me most during the past year was the philosophy of our current Director of the Union County Schools, Mr. Greg Clay. He has impressed upon the Central Office staff that obstacles are opportunities.
Perhaps if I’d had his vision my life might have taken a different path during the year just past.

How strange it seemed when during the Christmas break of 2023 that I should suddenly have so vividly remembered something that has never left my mind.
As I do practically every day, my eyes wandered to the picture of the old house where I spent most of my growing up years. It was the original home of the Burl Warwick family, located on Old Luttrell Road, near the intersection with Highway 61. My family rented the house from Jack Warwick, and we moved there just as I entered first grade.

As I write, the song “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas” is on my mind. In reality, other than decorations and the endless Hallmark movies, and the absence of leaves on the trees, it wouldn’t look like Christmas at all. There is no snow, though the temperature is dropping below freezing, and a brisk wind is blowing, making the air feel colder due to the wind chill factor. A more appropriate song might be “Baby, It’s Cold Outside”.

Is somebody trying to tell me something?
I have finally reached that point in my career when people have begun to ask me, without my broaching the subject, when I plan to retire.
Perhaps worse, I have been getting multiple calls daily on my cell phone to discuss the burial insurance options that the state of Tennessee can provide for me.

Last week, Dear Reader, I promised to tell you about part two of the Mincey/Martin time-share vacation (ad)venture.
I related last week that it was in 1996 that my friend Mark Martin and I each got the same enticing letter in the mail. The only difference was the name on the header. Mine proclaimed in bold letters, “RONNIE MINCEY! PACK YOUR BAGS!”

It was the summer of 1996. My friend Mark Martin and I each got the same enticing letter in the mail. The only difference was the name on the header. Mine proclaimed in bold letters, “RONNIE MINCEY! PACK YOUR BAGS!”

When I was a child, my dad worked for a while for the school system in maintenance. I remember he bought a cabinet model stereo and a wringer washing machine from Shoffner’s Furniture and Appliance. He had Irby Monroe make a stand for the small stereo to sit on so that I couldn’t reach inside and mess with the mechanics while those 33 1/3 RPM records were played. The joke was on Dad—I stood in a chair and watched the records spin on the turntable. I loved to listen to that stereo.