They were whooping it up at the Fast Lane Saloon.  Owlhead Kincer sat at the piano banging out boogie woogie.  Too Tall Tom strummed a guitar while Hairbreath Harry Akers played the fiddle.  Lori Meadows shook a tambourine as she danced on the tabletops. 

Monday night’s Concert & Dessert to benefit the Agape Food Pantry hit all the right notes. The seventh annual event raised $8,200 while providing an evening of musical   entertainment ranging from bluegrass to rock and roll.

Last Sunday, I was “waxing eloquently” in a sermon when suddenly there was a small explosion from somewhere in the pews. The explosion occurred immediately following a comment I made about cannons firing. An unsupervised boy in the church had popped a balloon he had smuggled into the sanctuary.

Fuzzy Butt wore angel wings, but I have my doubts about them truly reflecting his personality. His name aside, Fuzzy Butt was a kitten, and kittens grow into cats, which possess many redeeming qualities. Few of them, however, could be classified as angelic.

My mother-in-law, Eunice Adele Mutter, and I get along well. We talk a lot, especially about the “old days.” I generally enjoy these conversations as I am something of a history buff and she, having been born in the mid-1920s, has lived to see a good bit of it. While her memory isn’t quite what it used to be (then neither is mine), it is still pretty sharp and she has done a lot of interesting things over the years.

My wife noticed it first because she notices those sorts of things.
“Did you see that?” she asked.
I had or at least thought I had, so I said “sure.” Trouble is, when someone asks “did you see that?” they don’t usually mean the obvious thing that you had to have seen. So really I hadn’t seen it, if that makes sense.

While we had some blessed rainstorms last week, NASA was discovering water molecules within the dirt of Mars. Officials celebrated with champagne (from earth), but I found myself wishing they could also make a link between this extraterrestrial discovery of the most precious substance known to man—and our handling of water here, on the planet lying so close we cannot see it.

With another Fourth of July having recently passed, I’ve heard a lot of people talk about the annual traditions in which they use to take part every Independence Day.  In nearly every case, it seems that everyone I spoke to about these traditions was talking in the past tense.  Unfortunately, people do not seem to celebrate the Fourth of July, or any other holiday for that matter, in the invaluable traditional sense they used to.  My dad told me that when he lived in High Point, N.C., long ago, he would come home to my grandparents’ house in rural Grayson County for a cookout and croquet tournament.  My clearest Fourth of July memories include going to the home of my late great-great-aunt Hazel in Austinville for an annual neighborhood barbecue and fireworks display.  Hazel’s neighbors, Kirk and Carmen Burkett, hosted the event, which was held in the old ball diamond behind her house.  Today, that ball diamond no longer exists, as the up and coming New River water treatment plant is now being built there.

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.