12/4/2019 (oops, missed yesterday’s blog)

Today, the SIMH was an old and rather odd song—“Oh, Baby Mine (I Get So Lonely)”—the version in my head was the one by the Statler Bros., 1983. But, the song was written by a man named Pat Ballard in 1953 and recorded by The Four Knights, followed the next year by none other than Bing Crosby & the Guy Lombardo Orchestra. In fact this song was recorded by many including some European artists, Do you find it as interesting as I that a single song can bounce around for 30+ years and still provide an income for the writer? This is a fascinating truth about our laws: Artists’ work is always theirs. In this case (Mr. Ballard also wrote “Mr. Sandman”—a substantial hit), the songwriter died at a relatively young age, 61, and his two largest hits, their covers, and sales of all the artists supported his widow for a number of years and now, perhaps his heirs. Incredible.

The Statlers normally sang ballads which told a sad or a poignant story of love, special events, or lost opportunities. But, occasionally they sang a song that gripped at you if you grew up in the 50s-60s. For instance, “My Maple Street Memories.” How about “I Was There.” Never heard them? If you are in the age, look them up through You Tube and listen, probably gonna bring a melancholy moment. They also did one about “We Sang for Johnny and Got Paid by Cash” that is a true tribute to another artist. Also, incredible.

Another Statler Bros. song prompted the following: “I’ve Never Lived This Long Before.” Of course we haven’t! So simple.

On to a more important subject. Winding down another year rather rapidly for me, at least. 2019. Seems like life till now has been sort of a dream tucked away into something called memory banks, and the reality of today’s life is like a promise full of hope and expectations. It’s right out in front of us and both enjoyable and difficult. Those words might not be the clearest explanation of life, but I’ll leave them there to ponder further as more of this life is recorded. Most of us don’t really spend much time with memoirs of other people, but we do keep inside the memoirs of our own life. Lives do matter; yours, mine, notable people, enemies of peace, makers of peace, the people of the Lord, the Lord’s interventions, and the fulfillment of His promises contrasted with our misunderstanding of the same. I can’t write about yours, most notables have a biographer and their place in history books (whoever writes those), the people of the Lord get the short shrift, most of the Lord’s interventions since the completion of the Scriptures or more personal and obscure even to those of us who are the recipients, and His promises are spelled out in those Scriptures studied by rightly dividing the word of truth. That leaves my life. So, I write about it. Hope it isn’t a total waste of time.

A problem exists today in an enormous proportion to the society in general. This problem gets a lot of press time, gets a lot of study for an answer which, thus far has not produced any real solutions for it. I’m pretty sure I cannot answer it, either. It is based upon the desire of multiplied millions of people all around the world who do not intend to live in a truly real existence. The problem is illegal use and control of mind-altering substances. I’m well aware of being over my head in this sort of discussion. The pharmaceutical usefulness is not what I’m attempting to discuss. The preponderance (or availability) of such is.

When I was in the 4th or 5th grade, about 1953-54, a boy who lived a couple of doors away from us moved to a neighboring town. I think his mother remarried and took him to live elsewhere, away from his grandparents whom he had been with for most of his life. We had been pals to some degree and played together in a normal way. The next thing I heard about him, about 3 years later, was that he had gotten “involved” with a woman almost as old as his mother and the two of them were caught “high on drugs!” It was a shocker! He was supposedly threatening his mother and his neighbors to get them to give him money so he could pay for the drug he needed to “keep from going nuts!”—I was told. A very rare thing in the day. I never heard of another drugged underage person until I was a Senior in 1960. 

Not so rare today, is it? No, it happens all the time. How did we get this far down the road? Does every addiction end in the tragic death of the addict, or the death of another because of the addict? No, not every time. There has become several ancillary industries involving hundreds of thousands of trained people trying to stop this, from police in all forms to psychologists of all forms to “half-way” systems, curative programming, etc., etc., etc. A huge problem from the opium houses of the far East to the pill-popping teens on the streets in California, this problem is totally out of the control of anyone. 

And yet, the flow of the illegal drug, whatever name may apply, seems to go unchecked. the terrible idea that a “war on drugs” should exist just fueled the fire—another 40+ year debacle of a government which leads its people to believe they can “fix it!” Can you name me one thing the government has fixed since my boyhood friend had his problem in 1954? No, there isn’t anything fixed. (Another colossal failure of my generation, sorry, future generation folks.) On that happy note, I think I’ll work for awhile.

Thanks for reading the Elder

11/30/2019

It’s “Happy Thoughts Day!” There’s so much to be thankful for and I  must start with this: Our first-born son came into the world on this day in 1960. Stephen Bret Lockhart was born on a Wednesday, I believe at 3:11pm, weighing in at 8lbs, 3oz. Beautiful and healthy and bright eyed. We loved him from the moment we saw him and still do! So glad he is our son! (And now, so glad we only live a few miles apart.) Happy birthday, Steve!

Today, an old “torch” song by a Welsh lady is the SIMH. “It’s a Heartache”—“nothin’ but a heartache, Hits you when it’s too late, Hits you when you’re down!” —by Bonnie Tyler. She recorded it in 1978 to the delight of millions. She also rerecorded this with a French singer, it was a huge hit in several European countries and the USA. Many other singers covered it, also. (Now, on YouTube 17.5 million views. Amazing.) Her music is referred to as power ballads.

But what’s more amazing is the other huge hit for Bonnie Tyler is “Total Eclipse of the Heart!” —this was released 5 years after her first big hit and this one “Eclipsed” the first huge hit by about double in sales. And now on YouTube, the official version alone has more than 33 million hits! By August of this year, internet hits alone climbed to over 62 million. Holy Cow. Her fame and her success doesn’t seem to have made her typical of the industry in her private life. She’s been married to the same man for 47 years and they have real estate as their big investment pool, all around the world. Her “bio” was an interesting read. (Wikipedia is remarkable for this kind of thing.)

Been thinking about some other things which go along with this special day: Every day which starts with (of course, the SIMH) a good recognition of my Saviour and guide through this life, Jesus Christ the Lord, is a day that can handle most any problem that might come tripping down the road. 

Today, I’m going to go help Sarah and Jason in the new store building where we’ll paint awhile. I’m just a so-so painter, but I’m pretty good at being the go-fer; go for this, go for that. Also, I just get to enjoy being in the building and in the company of them that work so well!

Other people will come my way, maybe because they need water, maybe because they want to talk about the Lord, and maybe just to have a friendly fellowship. I am a gregarious dude (that means I like the company of other people.) I tried being non-gregarian but I just couldn’t fit in, he said wryly. When I found out there was a word to describe my condition I was very happy, but I still don’t understand why everyone isn’t gregarious. After all, we only have a certain amount of time here, and we don’t know everyone yet!!

I think I’ve always liked being around people more than being reclusive. If there is an explanation for that, I don’t know what it is. There are some moments I can look back on and see some times when I wished to be alone. However, most of my life I’ve managed to be alone in a car for enough time to rid myself of these respites and get back out there where I belong.

Another event today is the Iron Bowl (if you don’t know what that is you’re either not a football fan and/or not from the South.) It is the annual rivalry game between Alabama and Auburn—it’s like Army/Navy game times 10—it’s like Cubs/Cardinals, 7th game of League Championship, or Duke/NorthCarolina for the ACC championship. It really wouldn’t matter the records these two teams have, it is the antagonistic, overly competitive, and utter contention for bragging rights which is at stake here. Just as if the winner has all the answers to any and all problems. The game settles everything. Then, we start over for next year. (sigh)  See,…why it’s such a great day?

Thanks for reading, the Elder

11/28/2019

Happy Turkey day! or ham or eggs and bacon, or chicken fricassee, or whatever. We’ve managed to make the day about food and, of course, food is involved. But the meals we share take less than one hour of our time together. We now often share football, a couple more hours. What about the fellowship of kin and kindred spirits? There are more than 3 or 4 hours to the day. 

The original cause of the commemoration  was about the willingness of native Americans and new Americans to use the day for thankfulness and understanding. It’s doubtful that they spent the bulk of the day eating. Probably more open discussion of the mores of each group. May we observe, also.

Ah, well, I’m probably not going to change the habits of 21st century Americans, regardless of heritage or politics. But, sometime, just remember to reflect. At our table, if we remember to do so, we each say a thing we’re particularly thankful about. It’s always enjoyable and sometime surprising. I hope today’s table brings out some remarkable thankfulness. 

short….to not interrupt your day

Thanks for reading, the Elder.

11/26/2019

Morning. That’s a statement, not a greeting. Or, as the song says, “Morning Has Broken.” It hardly made sense to me that morning does such a thing as break, or break through. Then, with a dictionary and Wickipedia, I find the original meaning is from sunrise to noon. How old does one have to get to know these things! That means when we talk about getting up “early” because it is before sunrise, we actually mean we’re getting up “late”… in the what? Night? 

I look at this information and see there are many more words for time than just the numbers on a clock. Morning precedes afternoon, then comes evening, then night. Then there’s dawn and also dusk, also daylight and dark. And, if your Irish, the gloamin’!  The original form of the word was to carry one through the night till “morrow.” So, the long version of “good morning” is “morrow has come and I hope it is a good one for you!” Origins indicate Middle English borrowed “morwen” from the German “morgen” which is a singular word which signifies both morning and tomorrow. Never let it be said the Germans are overly loquacious!

I don’t want to tire you out about the word morning, but I would be horribly remiss if I didn’t remind you of the “Morning Star,” the Bright and Morning Star and the “DayStar” which are all biblical references to the Lord Jesus Christ and are referencing Him in the same way as other uses of morning: the morrow. Tomorrow is used by many poets for when the Lord returns. Maybe tomorrow. For today, “Morning has Broken.”

Oh, by the way, “Morning Has Broken” was the SIMH this morgen!

Yesterday, I had to drive to Griffin, GA, to get a new storage tank for our Gadsden store. Cole Howard is moving to a larger store and he is upgrading his system which requires a larger tank. The freight was going to be so high I decided to go get it in my pickup truck, saving about $140 in freight and letting me see an area I’ve wanted to drive through for some time now. The area from I-20, 30 miles West of Atlanta and running sort of Southeasterly toward Griffin (which sits next to I-75) is about 70 miles by car through four cities which I believe will one day make for great Blue Jug Alkaline Water and Health Markets; Carrollton, Newnan, Peachtree City, and Grifffin. Their populations and the micropolitan areas are in size, the most desirable cities to build stores in, to my way of thinking. 

Carrollton has more than 26,000 people; Newnan more than 33,000; Peachtree City more than 34,000; and Griffin more than 24,000. Excellent cities full of hard working Americans who need the best water money can buy, at a price they can all afford. Ahem! that would be us. We make “water the way it’s meant to be”—that’s our slogan, tagline, and a banner in all our stores!

This is Thanksgiving Week! I hope you and your family are planning a very thankful day to be together, to eat too much, to laugh and love and plan for the next great events coming to you! Here in our little mountain town, we’re in a state of flux with more than one move going on for some of us, but it shall not get in the way of a good day together.

It’s gonna be a busy next 36 days to end this year, but also exciting to get all the things accomplished and ready for the new year. 2020 has “momentous” stamped all over it! And maybe, just maybe, the Lord will come and take us “ever to be with” Him! What a capstone!

Thanks for reading, the Elder

11/23/2019

It’s too late in the day to remember which song was the SIMH this morning, but I heard an interesting thing last night—sort of related. I was watching a college basketball game I had recorded, and the “color man” of the announcing team, a former Indiana Univ. star, Dan Dokich, said in some related comment the he awoke each morning with a “Song in My head”— that’s what he said! Me and Dan Dokich! We have the same malady, or should I say melody! I found that pretty interesting. Maybe I should look to see if he writes blogs, he may be using the same ploy as I use to get someone to read these blurbs.

As our days dwindle down till the water store has to be out of the old building, it is becoming increasingly clear we likely will not get into the new one immediately. It’s frustrating, but not anything we can get control of, it seems. Part of it is materials for the rebuild are not coming in as they should, so other portions of rebuild are hindered from being finished. There just wasn’t enough time from when we started to be finished by the time we’re forced out of the old place. Some people will have to be without our water—that isn’t going to sit well. We’re trying to find an alternative. 

Talking about the remodeling of the building which will become The Blue Jug of Fort Payne has already taught me something new (to me.) We’re going to have a solid wood floor, White Oak plank, I believe. They tell me that when they bring the flooring into the building, they have to leave it sitting in there for 3-4 days before installing it, so that “it” can acclimate itself to its surroundings….never heard of that before, I don’t believe. And I’ve mentioned it to other people and they say yes, that is true….I’ve lived a long time, but I never heard of that before. Sounds odd, but at least, it ought to be pretty, eh?

Went to a Chamber of Commerce thing on Thursday evening in downtown Fort Payne  (our new location will be considered downtown) and all the business folks who were there were very excited to know we are coming as fast as we can. Most I spoke to personally were very sympathetic about the timing problem and expressed it to me. (None seemed to have any real quickening solutions, however.) I did appreciate their sentiments, very much.

Tomorrow is the annual Thanksgiving Breakfast at Grace Bible Church in Chattanooga. We’ll go up and partake. It’ll be good food, good fellowship and testimonies unto the Lord. Bro. Atwood has asked me to preach the second hour message tomorrow. Pray that the Lord’s word will glorify His name. 

Thanks for reading, the Elder

11/21/2019

Is there a selfish gene? Can we not all agree we live in a rapidly transforming society from socially polite to narcissism? I may be too old to understand how the framework of our society abides such things, but evidently it does. It seems to be true that there is a heightened sense of self-centeredness in most criminals, which brings to mind an appalling thing when we discover this arrogance and self-importance in the professionals revered, such as Certified Public Accountants, Attorneys, etc. Sometimes we can see the same thing in those who work for monopolies, such as public utilities, or those given monopoly rights, such as natural gas companies. 

You might wonder why I’m on this rant. This is a little thing to be griping about aloud so I thought I’d just write about it and get it off my chest. We have been given an edict to remove ourselves from the store building by December 13th, due to a change in ownership. I’m pretty sure that means we hold all the rights and privileges of a lessee until then. The new owner just went out in front and painted the pole for our store sign! Yes! Just now, while I work and wait on customers, the new owner just painted it—changed our dark blue logo color to a gray color, totally unrelated to our business! If that isn’t self-serving, arrogant and approaching narcissistic I don’t know what is! I’m pretty sure it’s a particular gene only a few receive. (Ha!)

“One Moment in Time” by Dana Winner, was the SIMH this morning. She’s a very good vocalist and it is a very good song. It would be especially good with a few word changes, things which would direct our minds to the “moment in time” which we can remember as the moment of trusting in the Lord Jesus Christ for our salvation. 

Do you remember your “moment’—that moment in which you knew you couldn’t handle this life or the next by yourself, seeing there was no way to get to be “right with God” by your own doing, and therefore, trusting in Christ’s saving power. I remember mine really well. I was the worst hypocrite I had ever known, not seeing myself worthy of being called a Christian, yet letting people think me one. I just cried out “I’m a mess, Lord, please save me.” It was not me saying those words that saved me: it was giving up and letting the Lord give me peace and eternal life in Him! Remember?

We’re having a really good weather week—weather we should have been getting the first two weeks of November, as well. Beautiful sunshiny days, down about freezing at night, 60s in the afternoons. All the leaves are falling, rapidly. Decorations have changed from the ghoulish halloween to Thanksgiving (the one true day to be a “holi-day”.) I know, next will be the Xmas decorations and that’ll last about 5-6 weeks. 

I might get criticized because I refer to Dec. 25th as Xmas, but I don’t care. First, Christ was born in late September by the best biblical record and counting the time from conception to birth. So, it’s very hard to make Him the center of it (for me.) Second, things popularized for Xmas celebrations all came from paganisms and idolatry—why (again) is it “we” celebrate the Xmas season? Since 1974, it has not really made sense to me. It isn’t my motive here to squabble about this. It’s very apparent where we live (the world in general) is going to do it. So, if you ask me to teach a bible class or preach the gospel in a room where there is one of those well-lighted and sparkly green things standing in the corner, I will. And I will not criticize your use of the decorations at all. But, I won’t lead or participate in the singing of carols, either. Fap.

Grrr—interruptions come fast sometimes, I finished my day and went to bed thinking I had done all I meant to do, only to arise this morning (22nd) to find I never finished this column and post on Thursday as I intended. Ah, me.

Thanks for reading, the Elder

11/19/2019

The SIMH today was a worthless old song, Popsicles and Icicles, by a one-hit-wonder group called the Mermaids. Early 60s music. If you have any clue as to why I would wake up singing that, let me know. It isn’t that they weren’t talented, they sang it rather well. As usual, I looked it up through Google-the-all-knowing and listened to it all the way through. If I didn’t, I would have been repeating the title line all day! Sheesh!! The group was 3 girls, young, talented and I hope they went on to have wonderful lives. Their genre was destined to be short lived, so if they every had another recording it became lost to the dustbin of regrets, I suppose.

Been pondering a thing which recently happened which had a disturbing affect on me and I’m not sure why. After two or three small talk times with a lady, we struck on a cord of bible questions and when I gave her answers to someone her questions, she very excitedly wanted to know where and when she and her husband could come to a bible class. So, I told her about the Sunday, 4PM class in our home and assured her we’d love to have them attend, not seeking anything except the fellowship around the word.

She told me which Sunday to expect them and so I did. They didn’t come and I wasn’t surprised, happens a lot. But, when I next saw her she said, “My husband said we go to enough bible classes and we don’t need yours for another one, sorry.” I asked what kind of bible classes do they now attend. She told me where and what they were studying (teachers who use a guide book about the bible aren’t particularly teaching the bible.) I reiterated to her that we just studied the word of God and we depend solely on that and she said, one of hers does, but  not all and he doesn’t get much out of the ones to which he goes.

Somehow, that reply about our class seemed to trouble me. I wondered why they wouldn’t have considered the answers she got to their questions, which seemed so pertinent and fulfilling when we first talked, but now had no bearing on where they will go to hear more! Seems strange to me and reminded me of a couple things in the past which I’ll mention here. I didn’t respond harshly, though I thought to do so. 

Once, in Texas, I was visiting a friend who on more than one occasion had told me of their intention to visit our church. So, I again welcomed them to come and assured them it would be enlightening and not be a harsh experience in any way. I asserted that the Bible is what is always right and trustworthy and I would only use it for the doctrines I would be teaching. He remarked that it seemed to him like I believed I was right and “had it all figured out!” My response to that was, “Bill, why would I teach something I wasn’t sure about? Don’t you see we’re talking about the absolute word of God here?” He looked at me with a look that said, I will not ever be at your class…..and he never did come. I was so sorry I said it like that. But, as you know, words don’t come back after you speak them.

Another time with similar results: I was with a group of Christian men of no particular group, just sitting around having coffee when one of them, a man of some note in town sidled over to me and said, “Say, I’d  like to tell you about an idea I’ve had and see what you think.” I said you bet, fire away. He began enumerating all the different kinds of museums in our area, from native-American groups, to industrial revolution evolvements to sports, etc., etc. He said, “I want us to build a Christian museum. We have many things that we should gather up to show people our Christian heritage.” I said, “What? Why? Christ is alive, we’re spiritual people in Christ! Why relegate that to museum status?” He sat still just a moment with an embarrassed look his face and I knew in a flash, we would not ever have another conversation about the Lord or anything else. And we didn’t.

I hope I’ve learned to worry over my words a little bit before opening mouth and inserting foot. I don’t know, time will tell, I guess. The bible says “A fool uttereth all his mind: but a wise man keepeth it in till afterwards.” Maybe there’s still a chance for those folks in my anecdotes to hear the truth, even though to me, they are just another  lost opportunity. After writing this, I guess I do know why the recent episode disturbed me.

Thanks for reading, the Elder

11/16/2019

My thoughts…my thoughts are running back to when I believe I was trained to think. I have a considerable amount of respect for college course studies which lead students to the brink of critical thought. Although there are many professors who stop short in the art of a critical thought pathway in order to insert many thought forms of their own, such as church or political dogma. Herein lies the necessity for critical thinking to become compelled towards a standard for all clear thinking: absolute truth. And so, herein walks opinions as to where absolute truth can be found. The truth is not relative: it is absolute. (Try getting the intelligentsia to agree with that.) 

The Lord Jesus Christ said, “..and ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.” Immediately, the intelligentsia of His day which were there listening to Him began to argue with Him about the “free” part of His assertion instead of about the knowledge. Typical reply when there is an absolute stated: no answer. Most all versions of the bible change make to set as though they had improved the purpose. No, they devalued the statement badly. The truth Jesus shared with them could have made them free, but their choice about it tied them back to their own purpose instead; a purpose opposed to what He was willing to bring them.

However, to my first paragraph’s “thought,” I’d like to pay homage* the 4 teachers in my younger life whom I believe caused me to begin to think better: In the 7th and 8th grades I had Mr. Cecil Utterback. He was a very intelligent man who had only a “normal” college degree, now called an associate degree—2 yr. Mr. Utterback’s normal gave him the ability to gather truth as he found it and he was an exceptional distributor of the things he knew. I think of him often when I need to recall when I heard or learned something and he fits into my memory banks like a warm blanket. He used the term “original thought” once. I had not ever heard that before, I’m sure. The normal degree he held gave him that privilege. Not critical, but original thought, ’twas more normal. 

Coming in second homage position was Mrs. Judd, a high school English teacher. Her advice was more along the lines of the value of grammar in my life. She didn’t make me a perfect student, but she certainly made me aware of loss when it was poorly executed, either orally or written. I’ve truly appreciated that for most of my adult life.

Thirdly, but on a par with number two, my homage also goes to Mrs. Williams, also a high school English teacher. Mrs. Williams showed me about myself in the role of needing to be grammatically correct and  in my thinking: thorough recognition. Pretty sure I cannot recall her words perfectly, but it was along the lines of “when you can trust yourself that you can for yourself thoroughly recognize where you fit in and where you can remain comfortable, life is much easier.” (not intended to be an actual quote.) Thoroughly recognize. That’s what stuck. Oh, how often I’ve violated my own principle!! 

When, at 31, I began to study the bible, I was forced to think back over several of these things which made out for “thoroughly recognizing” truth. And then, transferring that to thoroughly depending on it!  Or, more simply put, believing the bible as it says it, where it says it, to whom it says it! in the words of my bible teacher, Bro. E.C. Moore who, though after the other 3, was the teacher who taught study of the TRUTH. The greatest need.

[*Homage: Respect and honor shown publicly.]

My hope for you, dear reader, is the same as my hope: “My Hope Is Built On Nothing Less than Jesus’ blood and righteousness. I dare not trust the sweetest frame, but wholly lean on Jesus’ name
On Christ the solid rock I stand, all other ground is sinking sand!” and yes, that is the SIMH this morning. This is a Lutheran hymn, written in 1834 by Edward Mote, composed by John Stainer. Beautiful song, destined to sustain for the duration all who will believe on the Lord Jesus Christ for their eternal life.

Thanks for reading, the Elder

11/14/2019

This morning’s SIMH is still rolling around a couple hours after arising. “Are You Lonesome Tonight?”—Elvis Presley’s version, his voice being one my head tends to want to mimic (hopefully, not out loud!) The line, “do you stare at your doorstep and picture me there?” —do people today refer to the front of their abode as a “doorstep?” I can’t remember when I heard that term used except in song. Lou Handman and Roy Turk wrote this, I couldn’t find the year. I’m sure others sang it, but the King nailed it! “Is your heart filled with pain, shall I come back again?  Tell me dear, are you lonesome tonight?”

Our attachment to the world wide web (as in reading this blog) is almost as invasive as the “prophecy” of the book 1984. The difference is the size of and location of the screen/camera apparatus. In the book or movie, it was a single camera, but remained stationary, thus limited. When the proverbial “they” got around to doing it, the system had to force a couple of other industries out of business or forced to change businesses. Now, we mobilize the invasion of our privacy by carrying around our own PersonalCommunicationDevice in our pockets—and we just can’t get along without them. We call them phones and we brag about all they can do for us and, you can reach me anytime, and not just call, you can text me. (Hmm, I seem to recall titles of sermons on Sunday morning being referred to as “text.”)

But, doesn’t it seem impossible to get along without? Yes, it does. Ah, heck, folks: I love all this technology even knowing it is invasive. Isn’t it nice to think of something or somewhere or somebody, then have at your finger tips all the information you could ever want about whatever has entered your mind? Sitting in a group with my family recently, caused someone to be mentioned who had been in a movie we all like. None of us could think of the name, we began trying to think of who else this person had been associated with and within seconds, 2 or 3 of us had the bio-history of that person’s career before us on the screen! Incredible. Also, ever see a product and wonder where you could buy it close by? Take a picture of it with your phone, you can find it on the web and who sells it, and how many miles! Stupendous!

How ‘bout, telling Seri or Alexa an address and a map shows up to tell you (with voice commands or not) exactly how to drive there. You don’t have to stop and find a local and get his cornpone directions to be able to find it! —You know, “..go down to the bottom of the hill and take a left at the old filling station,” (interruption: they tore that down, Elbert—whatya mean they tore it down, when?) “ok, don’t turn there, go to the next left turn, there’s a little shopping center there on the right,” (interruption: laughing says, that’a not a shopping center, Elbert, that’s one of them mega-churches! Mega-what? Elbert says.) “Anyway, turn there and go to the old ice house, by dad, I know that’s still there—uh, Mo, which side of the road is the ice house on when yer a-goin’ that direction” Mo says, I ain’t never been to the old ice house, my wife won’t let me drink that stuff. “well, partner, I don’t think you can get there from here!!” 

See how important all this new electronic world is to us? Oh, you say you miss the good old days? I don’t think you’ll be able to go back. As long as electronics pleases the ruler of this world (as in “the god of this world” “the prince of the power of the air” —look those terms up in your KJB if you don’t know what I’m talking about.)—if this stuff pleases his conniving, evil perpetuating plan, we who remain here till “the Lord himself shall descend with a shout…”—we’re just gonna have to put up with the cute little things and what we can do with it all.

A side note: I don’t miss rotary phones attached to the wall or sitting on a table, or the “phone-chair;” I don’t miss having to pull off the road to check the ever hard to handle folding roadmap (although don’t try to throw them away out of my office, I still like them there); I don’t miss being unable to find people I need to speak with, and I have even come to really like texting, even though my fat fingers irritate me as I try to type on that tiny keyboard.  Nuf sed.

Thanks for reading, the Elder 

11/12/2019

Oh, the songs that swirl around in the beady little parts of my mind! I can’t nail down one SIMH this morning. Most days like this are good days. I think it is an advantage to have so many songs that I can’t distinguish the first or a most prevalent one. Since I made this a focus of the blog, am I inventing the consciousness of music each day? I don’t think so, but the frequency of my notes about it might prove me guilty. Let’s not dwell on this today, though, OK? Please don’t let this bother you (as if!)

When my growing up years seemed to have come to and end, and I left the good ol’ hometown of Trafalgar, IN, I went to a favorite town of mine, Columbus. Look or Life Magazine (can’t remember which) published a beautiful pectoral article about that time (1962) calling Columbus “Athens on the Prairie.” I remember laughing out loud when I saw the title, wondering where around Columbus was a “prairie.” Then, I noticed most “Columbians” thought of that as a compliment, so I kept the humor of it to myself, feeling foolish. By the way: somehow, the infamous NYT (New York Times) now has the article archived and they make no reference that I could find to the now defunct magazine which originally carried the article. However that came about, the NYT has the whole article preserved, if you care to read about it.

The article, however, was brilliant and beautiful. Columbus was and is to this day a unique city. Many public land & commercial buildings in Columbus have the distinct privilege of being designed by some world renowned architects. There was a rich heir to the Cummins Diesel and banking industry there who paid the architectural fees for these building. It was generous, but of course influential to the overall look of the town and I never heard anyone complain about it for the 2+ years I live there. It was about 25,000 people when we lived there, now up around 50,000. A tender, yet consistent growth, over the last 50 years, about what one could expect from those running the city—consistency. 

A downtown, rather large “boutique” hotel—85 beautifully appointed rooms—full service with restaurant and all amenities, it also houses the Architectural Museum of Columbus. Must be a sight to behold. 

Side note about Columbus High School in the 1950s: it was a huge school taking in most of the county. Maybe one or two other small high schools, but CHS was big. And it was called a Senior High School consisting of only the 10th, 11th, and 12th grades. They were very good in basketball and they played a school who tried the “hold the ball and stall the game” trick. Columbus turned the table on them, held the ball against them, as well. One quarter was one Columbus star who dribbled the entire quarter! CHS won the “barn-burner” with a score of something like 13-7, or somewhere close. From a school averaging about 80 per game, they proved they could play it either way and win. Good team, good coach.

I mentioned a “boutique” hotel. the style refers to a sort of specialty hotel the way some stores are “specialty” stores. Our water stores are “boutique.” That is, we sell a special item which is our #1 product. A boutique hotel has the clearly uniqueness about their rooms or the room service or the amenities or food or any combination of more than one of those items as their specialty. Usually smaller than the chain hotels/motels, anywhere from 8 to 80 rooms. In small towns, about a hundred years ago, it was common that a town large enough to have a hotel usually was 12 to 16 rooms. 

It is my belief that someone with the expertise and the financial backing could build one here in Fort Payne, perhaps another in Valley Head or Mentone, and do well with both. All that is needed is a destination event other than the hotel itself and the market is pretty strong, pretty strong.

Thanks for reading, the Elder