Samuel Johnson would have approved of the debate at the barn.
The denizens pondered over adding a new word to the English dictionary. Not since 1755 had people shown so much concern. That was when Doc Johnson came up with his version of the English dictionary.

I have to call it just a coincidence. It is simply too much to think that God had anything to do with the events at Mount Moriah Baptist Church in the last week.

Is it just me or does it seem that anyone in or employed by our federal government will go to any length, including the occasional outright lie, to avoid admitting they were wrong? Now no one likes being embarrassed by mistakes. But they happen. If you are human you will make them occasionally. And yes, almost anyone will do a little bit of white-lie butt-covering if they figure it will work. But most of us, particularly if faced with a minor faux pas, won’t just out and out lie about it.

There’s an old-timey kaleidoscope with its business end broken by a Christmas hammer. There’s a birthday bug collecting box. A single sock, for some reason. Scraps of wood, thin little pieces that came from the cutting of bigger scraps of wood Sunday. And there’s the horseshoe, scrounged from somewhere, hanging from a tree branch. There isn’t any poison ivy. I tore it all down Tuesday night after a slight rash appeared on nearly every one in the family. It was the first bout for all of us, I think. After years of pulling the stuff up barehanded, I finally hit my limit when the juice from some severed section of ivy plant dripped onto my exposed skin. Go figure. 

It’s that time of year when the landscape is a bakery of divine smells. A few come to mind. Ready to inhale?

Piney and She were very much interested in the (local Florida) attempts to meet the depression with its growing employment and high food costs problems.

Dean Higgins had come all the way from Hootersville just to shoot the breeze.  He wore a baseball style cap bearing the name Kyle.  The cap hid his bald spot but it made him appear a bit overdressed.  They admired his guts.  Nobody else would dare wear anything but Junior’s cap at the barn. 
“I’m a baseball fan, too,” said Beck, my ole Missouri mule.  “Don’t know any baseball player named Kyle.  Are you sure you’re a baseball buff?”
“I am,” Higgins said.  “My loyalty goes back a long time.  Nevertheless, I like NASCAR racing, too.  They won’t let me wear Kyle’s cap at the Fast Lane Salon.  I came here to show it off.”
“You mean saloon, not salon,” said Old Blue Rosenbloom.  “A salon is where they make old ladies look like teenagers.”

Four weeks ago, I dedicated my column to promoting a concert that was sponsored in part by my home church, starring the Hope for Africa Children’s Choir.  I closed the article by saying that I did not customarily like to write about events until after I had seen them, so as to give a proper opinion.  However, as a Christian, I was certain that this July 2 event was going to be full of blessings for all who went to see it.  Therefore, I chose to publicize it in hopes that more people would attend as a result.

Besides the natural beauty of Smyth County, the greatest advantage of living here is the vast amount of available information. Never mind Hwy. 11 or Interstate 81, it is “the information superhighway” that keeps us alive. The information is not always accurate or current, but it is certainly personal. One friend explained it to me this way, “In Smyth County, if you ever find that you do not know what you are doing, just ask your neighbor.” I began to believe this when a family member had a bad fall.

OK, let’s say you either are or you’re turning 40ish to 50ish. You know who you are and what it means. You don’t need me to remind you. The little aggravating aches and pains are becoming more frequent. Minor injuries aren’t so minor. Healing and recuperation times are taking longer, much longer. When teenagers look at you, you can almost read their minds. Instead of thinking, “Hey he/she is way cool,” they’re thinking, “Ewww!! Old people.” Yeah, hurts your feelings. I know. I’ve been there for lots longer than I care to admit now.
So now you’re probably wondering, “What’s he rambling on about now? I don’t need him lecturing me about old age. Just look at him. Like they say, physician, heal thyself.” Well, my fellow baby-boomers (I hate that term, don’t know why, just never liked it), we just dodged a major bullet and many of you may not have been aware of it. On Wednesday, July 16, Congress overrode President Bush’s veto of a Medicare bill.