NBC Nightly News

We are creatures of habit.  You can't teach an old dog new tricks.  You can lead a horse to water, but you can't make him drink.  Any of this sound familiar?

A lot of the things we do, the cars we drive, the places we like to go on vacation, the television networks we would watch, the type of gasoline we bought, are all the result of what our parents did.  As kids, we watched, learned, and followed their actions.  Certainly, that is not true for all of us, for many it is.

In case you're wondering, the answers to the statements in the previous paragraph are, Chevrolet, historical places, NBC, and Shell.  At least that is what I remember.

It is one of those, NBC, that I am going to talk about today, because I read earlier this morning that tomorrow, Friday, May 30th, will be Lester Holt's last day as anchor of the NBC Nightly News.

I have always been a news junkie.  I mean as long as I can remember.   As a three-year-old in April 1961, I remember watching every minute of the broadcast of Alan Shepherd, the first American in space.  Two and-a-half years later, in November 1963, I can recall being glued to the television when President Kennedy was killed.  I liked knowing what was going on in the world.  That habit of watching the news came from my folks.  Living in the central time zone, we would watch the network news when it came on at 5.30, between the local five and six o'clock news.

In my younger years, and even now, we watched, and I continue to tune to the NBC Nightly News.  Back then it was the Huntley-Brinkley Report.  Chet Huntley was in New York and David Brinkley was in Washington, giving viewers, a generation before cable and the internet, the national and world news of the day.  They ended every broadcast saying good night to each other.  I remember it as if it were last week.  "Good night, David," quickly followed by "Good night, Chet," and then one would say, "and good night from NBC News."

It was in the summer of 1970 when Huntley retired.  It took two men, John Chancellor and Frank McGee to replace him.  Those two joined Brinkley, and the three rotated as a duo for about a year, and then Chancellor flew solo for five years before Brinkley rejoined and the two of them worked together for the next three years, until the fall of 1979.

After Brinkley left for ABC, Chancellor was once again the lone anchor until the spring of 1982, when NBC switched again to two anchors, promoting Tom Brokaw and adding Roger Mudd who came over from CBS.  The pair worked together for about 18 months before Mudd was reassigned.  Brokaw then was the sole anchor for the next 21 years.  It is probably safe to say that when anyone under 50 thinks of NBC News anchors, they think of Tom Brokaw, who manned the anchor desk continually from April 1982 through December 2004, at which point he was replaced by Brian Williams, who held the spot for just over ten years, before being replaced by Holt in June 2015.

I'll be 68 next week, so since my debut in June 1957, only eight men have been the primary anchor for the Nightly News at NBC, and two of them, McGee and Mudd, had very short tenures in the most visible seat NBC had.  

Holt announced back in February he was stepping aside as anchor, to spend more time on NBC Dateline, an hour-long weekly show.  I knew his last day was coming, but until I was reminded this morning, his last day was tomorrow, well I didn't realize it was so soon.

When I reflect back, I know watching Chet Huntley, David Brinkley, John Chancellor, Tom Brokaw, Brian Williams and Lester Holt to deliver my nightly news every weeknight, that played a part in my decision to write for "Pepper Box" my high school newspaper at Ritenour High School in suburban St. Louis.  Thanks to Martha Ackmann, my high school journalism teacher, it also piqued my interest in radio.

In my adult life, I have worked in both newspaper and radio, and for a stretch of 14 years, I did both at the same time, writing, reporting news, sports, or whatever was deemed newsworthy.  I loved doing it and even today I miss it greatly.  To be honest, that is why I started this blog, because I still love to write.  It all started because of Chet Huntley and David Brinkley and a little kid's fascination with the news.

I never worked in television, but for a moment, I'll pretend I did.  This is Dalton Sullivan reporting from Tuscumbia, Alabama.  Good night for Baseball, God and Tacos.

Thanks for stopping by.  Be kind to each other.

Moose

I was about 11 years old.  I wanted a dog.  My nine-year-old brother, he wanted a dog.  We begged and pleaded, made all the usual promises about taking care of him, cleaning up after him, etc.  All the shallow promises kids make when wanting something.

I wanted a dog.  I got a Moose.

A couple of blogs back, I wrote about The Group, which was about my folks' close friends when I was growing up.  One of those couples, Don and Ann, had purchased a poodle for their daughter Paige.  It was a female they named "Waggles."

A year or so after they acquired Waggles, she became pregnant.  The dog talk got stronger, more desperate.  Finally, mom and dad agreed to get us a dog.  They had talked to Don and Ann and put in a reservation for one of the litter, more specifically, a male dog.  Not long after Waggles gave birth to an equal number of male and female puppies.  Don picked one out for us and gave it a name.  Moose.  It seems, Moose was the biggest one of the litter, and Don, having played football, thought Moose was an appropriate name for this newborn pup.

I forget how old he was when we picked him up, probably six weeks or so.  I do remember it was a rainy, Saturday morning when we picked him up.

I am not going to bore you with the mundane about Moose.  In most ways, he was your typical miniature poodle.  Black, with some grey, about 12 pounds or so.  Not afraid to show his teeth and growl if cornered, or if someone was trying to get him out from under the bed.  I remember once when he was still a pup, Moose was under the bed and dad was trying to get him out.  Moose would have nothing of it.  Dad kept trying to entice him, Moose kept growling and eventually he bit dad's hand.  That was a mistake.  Dad grabbed him, pulled out from under the bed and disciplined him.  Needless to say, Moose never bit my dad again.

No, nothing mundane, we will only touch on the many things that made up his personality. He was a smart dog with a wicked sense of humor.

At times he wanted to be outside, but for whatever reason we couldn't stay out there with him.  So, we had about a 20-foot chain attached to a post near the house.  It was enough to let him run a little bit, he could rest or nap.  One summer evening, I went out the back door to get Moose and he wasn't there...and neither was the chain.  Evidently, we had chained him up, but the chain wasn't attached.  Panic set in and I ran inside to tell the folks.  They went to the back door as well, yep, the kid was telling the truth, Moose was gone.  We hopped in both cars, Barry and I were too young to drive and drove around the neighborhood, windows down, calling his name.  We didn't see him, he didn't answer.

We eventually went home heartbroken.  I probably cried myself to sleep.  My dog was gone.  But early the next morning, about 5 or so, dad was shaving, getting ready for work, and he thought he heard Moose.  He went to the front door and opened it.  There was Moose, with a 20-foot-long chain behind him, looking like a sailor who had been on a three-day liberty in the big city.  He looked awful, smelled worse, but that didn't matter, he was home, all was forgiven.

Moose loved human food, and at times did not exhibit much patience when the rest of us were eating.  During lunch of dinner, he would usually sit quietly. just off the periphery of our old oak round table.  If anything fell, he was there to scoop it up.  More than once I saw him catch something in his mouth before it hit the ground.  This one particular Saturday afternoon, dad had grilled some burgers.  I think we had a lot of the youth group from church over.  As we ate, Moose had assumed his position just off the table waiting for someone to drop something.  

Evidently his patience was wearing a little thin, that or everyone was too neat because no scraps were falling.  So he took matters into his own hands, er, paws, errr, mouth.  Without warning and with the speed of an F-15, he leapt like Michael Jordan from his sitting position, maneuvered in mid-air to get his head between the arms and torso of my cousin Rene, grabbed her hamburger in one bite, then run with said hamburger in his mouth to his eating place.  It was remarkable.  We were all amazed, that is except Rene.

Normally he ate dry dog food.  But we liked to reward him.  If there were scrambled eggs left on your plate, go scrape them into Moose's dish.  If there was gravy left, it went to Moose.  He loved leftovers.

Honestly though, his two favorite human foods were Fritos and Life cereal.  Anytime someone went to the pantry and pulled out a bag of Fritos or a box of Life, when you turned around there would be a sitting Moose.  His tail going 1000 miles-per-hour and smiling.  Yes, he smiled.  A lot.   I mean you could be in a soundproof room, and if you opened a bag of Fritos or a box of Life, when you opened the door, there he would be, sitting and smiling.

He hated pecans or any other nut.  My mother loved to bake cookies.  For that matter she still does.  She would make these wonderful chocolate chip cookies with pecans.  When she pulled them out of the oven, Barry and I would be waiting, as would Moose.  Sitting, tail-wagging.  You get the picture.  Barry and I would each get two cookies; Moose would get one.  As soon as he got his, he would race to the small rug in front of the front door and inhale his cookie.  Then the most amazing thing would happen.  Four or five seconds after inhaling his cookie, he would carefully spit out the pecans.  How does he do that?  I still don't know, but he did it every stinking time.  That was Moose

Moose was not like his big brother (me) in that he loved snow.  When it snowed, he loved going outside and frolicking in it.  He might jump in a pile of snow and disappear, then jump out of the snow eight feet away. like he was a dolphin coming out of the ocean.

When he was eating Purina Dog chow, and not eating Fritos, Life cereal, gravy or chocolate chip cookies, he was not bashful to let you know he was hungry.  He would somehow grab his dinner bowl in his mouth, bring it over to you were ever you were seated, and drop it at your feet.  He would sit there with that silly grin, as if to say, "Feed me."

My brother reminded me one time our folks got a new bed.  On the first day or two after they got it, Moose went running through the living room, and once he hit the doorway of our parents bedroom he would then leap, usually landing in the middle of their bed.  But this one particular day, he came running through the living room, and again, as was his custom, began his leap as soon as he entered the bedroom.  Except this time, instead of landing on my folks in their bed, he went splat! against the side of the bed.  Apparently Moose had missed the memo about the height being raised.

Speaking of running, he loved chasing squirrels and rabbits.  He never caught one, but he chased them with all the speed he could muster.  Not sure what he would have done if he caught one.   Well, we think he did catch one once.  I was sitting on the couch watching tv, and Moose was laying on his side beside me, asleep.  After a few minutes I heard Moose whimpering, his front paws were moving as if he were digging for something.  Barry was nearby and he called mom.  She came in and we watched him for another couple minutes.  We deduced he was chasing rabbits in his dreams.  That is as good an explanation as any.

Moose hated guys in uniform and my friend David, who lived up the street.  Moose loved most everybody but hated David.  Never could figure out why.  But men in uniform, Fire fighters, police officers, meter readers, the UPS man, he had no use for them at all.

I was his favorite, but dad was a close second.  In the family room, we had cafe curtains.  Every afternoon about four, Moose would stand on the back of the couch and watch for dad to get home, which was usually about 4.30 or so.  When he saw dad's gold '65 Mustang turn the corner and start to turn into the driveway, he started barking and his little tail was at wagging at warp speed.  He was always happy to see dad.

I could go on and on about Moose and his exploits, how everyone loved him, Sam recalled how happy and fun he always was, Lisa said her mother liked Moose so much it convinced her it was ok to let Lisa have a dog.  She wound up taking home one of Moose's brothers, as did Bruce, perhaps my longest-tenured friend outside of my brother.

I have one final story to leave you with on this Memorial Day afternoon.  

One Wednesday night, the four of us, mom, dad, me and Barry, had arrived home from church.  I don't remember who unlocked the door, but Mom was the first one in the house.  Moose, as usual, was there waiting for us with tail wagging.  Mom took one step, maybe two and screamed "Moose Sullivan," (yeah, we adopted him).  It seems on the rug, the same one where he had spit out his pecans, Moose had left us a surprise.  A soft, steamy, stinky surprise.  As soon as Mom screamed his name, Moose turned on a dime and ran to the back door, grabbed a sheet of newspaper with his teeth and ran back to where the "surprise" was and covered it with the paper.  Once he had accomplished, he looked up at the four of us and smiled, with tail wagging.  "What surprise," he was saying to us, "I don't see anything."

That was Moose.  Loyal, loving, playful, smart, funny and at times infuriating.

It was 43 years ago when he died in 1982.  I was 25 years old.   He had kidney troubles that could not be fixed.  I was at work at the airport when he died and immediately drove home.  Dad had dug a grave while our neighbor Bill held a lantern.  We each said a few words, wiped away a tear or two, and buried Moose under a Walnut tree at the back of the property.  A tree my brother had planted when he was in the fifth grade.  

So even now, he guards the house on Poe from all of those rabbits and squirrels.

Thanks for spending some time.  Hope you think about your favorite pet this week.  Be nice to each other.

Beatles Countdown on Sirius

 I love Sirius/XM radio.  We have it in both cars, and I can get it on my laptop and on my phone.  I love the narrow-focused stations that give you the kind of music you want when you want it.  

There are four stations that I primarily listen to.  They are, in order of how often I listen, Classic Vinyl, The Beatles Channel, Radio Margaritaville and 70's on Seven.  Those four channels probably take up 98 percent of my listening.  Now M and I have some musical tastes that are the same, she really likes the Beatles and Margaritaville, but there are other stations she likes, that I just don't care for.  But that's normal isn't it, don't all couples have differing opinions on what to listen to at times?

But that will not be a problem this weekend.  Beginning less that 24 hours from now, at 11a EDT/10a CDT, the Beatles Channel will present "All Together Now," their annual countdown of the top 100 Beatles songs as voted by the listeners.  It takes about six hours or so to listen to the whole thing, but if you miss part, great news, they replay all Memorial Day weekend!   Is this a great radio station or what!

As a serious fan of the Beatles Channel, I did my part and submitted my list of favorite Beatle songs.  It was easy, went to the Sirius Beatle website, clicked "All Together Now' and voila, there were all the songs the Fab Four have recorded.  Each selection had a box next to it, so just point and click.  I think you could select up to 10 songs.  It might have been a few more, I honestly don't remember.  But for the purposes of this blog, I'll say there was 10.

So when the countdown begins tomorrow morning, they will start at number 100, and six hours or so later, play the Beatles tune the fans voted to be their favorite.  It's always tense when we get to the last 10.  I am a huge George Harrison fan, so I am always hoping he has two or three in the top 10.

What follows is a list of the 10 songs I selected.  They are in no particular order, just typing them in as I remember them.  There will be some commentary with each.  Not quite as informative as what Peter Asher would do, but hopefully entertaining nonetheless.

Dalton's Beatle Top 10 includes......

1.  While My Guitar Gently Weeps - Written by George for the White Album, his bandmates (i.e. John and Paul) did not give this song the enthusiasm George thought it deserved.  So one day before heading to the EMI Studio on Abbey Road, George kidnapped his good friend Eric Clapton and told him he was going to play lead guitar on the song.  Eric was not excited about the idea but agreed to do it.  When George walked into the studio with Eric, suddenly the mood changed, it's Eric Clapton.  Harrison's hunch paid off and what I consider his best song was completed, with Clapton on guitar.  This song is always in the top 10, it finished at number eight last year.

2. Eleanor Rigby - There are a couple of reasons why I like this cut from the Revolver album.  Obviously, one reason is my granddaughter's name is Eleanor.  That alone is reason enough.  But there is another reason.  If you listen to the song, in the middle you hear a lot of strings playing, giving the song an almost classical sound.  That was a double-string arrangement composed by famed Beatle engineer George Martin.  Try listening to this song with the singing muted and only the strings playing.  It is breathtaking.  Besides being a groundbreaking engineer, Martin had a talent for writing classical music.  One fun fact, none of the Beatles played instruments on this song.  This masterpiece was number 13 in 2024 as voted by Beatles fans.

3. Ob-la-di, Ob-la-da - For whatever reason, I have always loved this song.  It is silly, it is whimsical, it is pop, but every time it comes on the radio, I find myself singing at the top of my lungs.  This selection finished at number 36 on the 2024 countdown

4. I Saw Her Standing There - An "A" side single on the Beatles Please Please Me album, this song was released in the spring of 1963.  A spirited number that makes it hard to keep your feet still, or the rest of your body for that matter.  A cool fact about this song, which was written by Paul McCartney, is that when he played it for John Lennon, Lennon wanted to change the first line, which reads, "Well, she was just seventeen, a real beauty queen."  Lennon hated the last part, and the two geniuses put their heads together and came up with, "Well, she was just seventeen, you know what I mean."  It was perfect, and a classic was completed.  In 2024, it came in at number 23.

5.  Hello, Goodbye - Another non-serious song that Paul composed.  It is basically word association set to music.  Originally released as a non-album single, incredibly, it went to number one in the United States, the U. K., Canada, Australia, New Zealand and a host of other countries.  In 2024, it came in at number 70.

6.  Help! - From the movie of the same name, Help! was released in the summer of 1965.  My favorite thing about this song is the James Bond-like intro.  It just reaches out and grabs you, shakes you a bit, slaps your face and says, "pay attention."  The song starts in fifth gear and never slows down.  Lennon, who was the primary composer of this tune, said in later years he wrote it because he was having trouble coping with the Beatles sudden success, which is certainly understandable.  Number one in the States and the U.K., it came in at number 26 on last year's Top 100.

7.  Here Comes the Sun - Ah, another George Harrison composition, this time on Abbey Road, it is clearly one of George's finer works.  The familiar refrain, "here comes the sun," never ceases to put a smile on your face.  For lovers of summer, like me, I can relate big time to one of the lines midway through the song.  "Little darling, it's been a long cold, lonely winter.  Little darling, it seems like years since it's been clear.  Here comes the sun, here comes the sun, and I say, it's alright."  Yes, it is George, this song is alright.  Last year, Beatles fans voted it in at number five.

8.  She's Leaving Home - If you are the least bit emotional or a softie, have some Kleenex handy as you listen to this ballad written by Paul.  It tells the story of a young, single woman who has been living with her parents.  She leaves in the middle of the night, leaving only a note for her mum and dad.  As Paul sings the story, we can hear the distress her mother's voice as she says "daddy, our baby's gone."  Recorded for the Sgt. Pepper album, it reminds me in a way of a song that came out eight years later, the Eagles' Lyin' Eyes, a similar composition written by Glenn Frey, where the song is one long story.  Not long after the song was completed, McCartney was in California and went by to see the Beach Boys genius Brian Wilson.  Wilson and his wife listened carefully to the song Paul had brought.  Their reaction?  They both cried.  She's Leaving Home was the 67th most popular Beatles tune according to Sirius listeners in 2024.

9.  Now and Then - Way back in 1977, a few years before he was killed, Lennon sat down at the piano in his New York City apartment and recorded four songs onto cassette tape.  They never made it onto any album before he was killed.  Many years later, Lennon's widow, Yoko Ono, gave McCartney a pair of cassette tapes, each with two songs.  The three surviving Beatles had previously been told by Ono of the tape's existence, but now they had them in possession.  Paul, George and Ringo went back to the studio, and with some modern marvel help, cleaned the recordings.  On the Beatles Anthology, two of the recordings, Free as a Bird, and Real Love were released and did very well.  The recording quality on a third, Now and Then, was so bad that after a couple days of recording, the project was stopped.  For 20 years the song remained unfinished.  But early in 2023, Paul and Ringo went back to the studio, and with the help Giles Martin, son of the late George Martin, and with the help of new technology, the song was cleaned up and released.  John's voice was preserved for the song, as was George's previous guitar work from 30 years earlier.  It will be the last song by the Beatles.  In it's first year before Beatles fans, it came in at number 20.

10.  Get Back - Well, here we are, the end of my list, and this song, coincidentally, it is the last song the four Beatles ever played together.  It was January 30, 1969.  It was cloudy in London, cloudy, cool and windy.  Some might call it a "raw" day.  Later that afternoon, it was business as usual in central London, and those who drove by Apple Corp. headquarters on Savile Row, or happened to be walking by had no idea what was about to transpire.  It was about 12.30p when the four Beatles and keyboardist Billy Preston appeared on the roof of the Apple building and started playing.  They played nine takes of five songs before the police shut them down, the last song being, Get Back, which last year was number 40 in the fan voting.

Honorable Mention - I would be remiss if I did not mention a few others that are among my faves done by the Fab Four.  They include, Fool on the Hill, Things We Said Today, Let It Be, Something, Twist and Shout, Piggies, Savoy Truffles, All My Loving, and In My Life.

Thanks for sticking with me.  I hope you get an opportunity to listen to the Beatles Channel sometime this weekend.  I guarantee you'll love it.

Have a great weekend.  Be nice to each other.

P.S.  Send me your top 10

Self-Examination: Practicing What I Preach

It is Monday night, May 19th, about 45 minutes before midnight and my mind is racing.  I am in a quandary.  To put it bluntly, I am in a situation where I am not wanting to do what I led the discussion on yesterday in small groups.  I feel like a hypocrite, yet at the same time, I feel justified by my behavior.  I don't like being like this.  Not one bit.

In our worship at Sherrod Avenue yesterday, our minister, Justin Pannell, began a series entitled, "No Offense."  Justin talked about being easily offended by the actions of other people, both in and outside of the church.  If you ever went to church for any length of time, you have heard these: "Someone was sitting in MY seat," or "I didn't like any of the songs we sang today," or my favorite, "Did you hear what the preacher said today?  He might as well have called me out by name. I swear he was looking right at me when he made that last point."

In one of his first points, Justin noted, "Being offended is one of Satan's most effective weapons that he uses on us."  To make it worse, too often we don't even know the Evil One is using us, or taking up residence in my brain, like he is with me right now.

I know deep in my heart, despite my thoughts, that nothing good comes from being easily offended or carrying around a grudge.  I am not a person who is prone to being offended, so not only am I offended by an earlier incident, but I am also furious at myself for thinking this way.  Ugh!  I hate this.

I am reminded what Paul said in Romans 7.  He wrote to the church in Rome, "For I have the desire to do what is good, but I cannot carry it out. For I do not do the good I want to do, but the evil I do not want to do—this I keep on doing.  Now if I do what I do not want to do, it is no longer I who do it, but it is sin living in me that does it."   I know exactly what he means.

My small group met for lunch and study after class yesterday, and we had a great discussion.  Nearly everyone there has had trouble with "being offended," at some point and having difficulty overcoming it.   Side note: I just love small groups.  I think the comments are usually more from the heart and more sincere.  It is the baring of the soul with what is bothering you, what is eating away at you, how Satan is trying to take control.

Following yesterday's lesson and our small group I felt good about it all.  As I mentioned earlier, this is not something I usually have to deal with.  But there was an occurrence earlier today that just lit my fire.  Not only did I disagree, I was convinced the other person was taking this particular stance for all the wrong reasons.  I was offended.  I was not practicing what I was preaching to my small group just 24 hours before.  I was not having very loving thoughts.

In his lessons, Justin always has "lesson takeaways," in other words, if you don't remember anything else, remember these points.  His takeaways were "Blessings for being unoffendable."

1. You are in a better position to hear what you need to do.

2. You can love people better.

3. Your joy isn't easily stolen.

4. You stay on the mission Christ gave you.

You have to ask yourself, "Do I want to make a point, or make a difference?"   I am convinced I am right, and my gut says don't back down.  But what will others think by that stance?  How is God praised if I display that kind of attitude?  Fact is, he isn't.  If I am going to make a difference, my love must lead the way.  Always.

I don't like myself right now, but I'll be ok in the morning.  God's love never fails.

Be nice to each other, don't be like me and be easily offended.  It's not right.

Be good to each other.  Till next time.

The Group

 Jack died this past Saturday morning in Columbus, Ohio.  He was 90.

Now you may be asking yourself why this is important.  In reality, he is a piece of a larger story, one that I wanted to write about.

There are a couple readers of this blog who will know who Jack is.  He and his wife Rae Carol, and their two children, Jerry and Karen, lived in St. Louis for a few years in the late 1960's.  They went to church, the Overland Church of Christ, where our family attended.  Jerry was my age, and we were friends, so it was natural that the parents became friends as well.

But here is where the story expands.  Jack and Rae Carol, along with my mom and dad were part of a larger group.  Let's add Bob and Mona, Don and Ann, Dan and Carol Ann, Mike and Nan, Dick and Kay, Ron and Elaine, Gene and Hilma.  Nine couples, all in the same age group, all with teenagers or younger kids, all attending the same church and all friends.

In the late sixties we lived in the St. Louis suburb of Overland.  About 20 miles northwest of downtown St. Louis, and about five miles south of Lambert Field, the local airport.  A well-established community, it's population was close to 25,000, and the church we attended had a weekly attendance in the 500-550 range.  I can remember our youth group had about 60-70 kids.

It the large group, the aforementioned couples quickly became friends.  Not only were they of the same faith, but they were also close in age and their kids were friends and close in age as well.  It was not unusual for various combinations of this group of friends to get together and socialize.  Go get pizza on Sunday night, go to ballgames together, barbecue pork steaks on all the summer holidays, every family bringing something different to the table.

Early in the book of Acts, Luke wrote this about the early church, "Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common."  Read those last few words again, "they had everything in common.

As the sixties ended and the seventies began, these couples began to scatter, just as young families in their early to mid 30's do.  Better jobs and opportunities, wanting to be closer to family, that was true with this group.

Dan and Carol Ann moved to West Virginia, eventually settling in Knoxville.  Mike and Nan moved to Jefferson City, MO, before settling just outside Indianapolis.  Gene and Hilma went to Pensacola, and as mentioned, Jack and Rae Carol moved to Columbus, Ohio.  Five couples stayed behind in St. Louis.

But friendships, genuine friendships are not limited by miles.  All of a sudden phone bills went up across the group as they tried to keep up.  Eventually, sometime in late 1970 or early 1971, someone in the group, it is not known who first had the brilliant idea, but someone suggested a weekend together, somewhere away, with no kids, somewhere they could be a group again, even if only for a few days.  So later that summer, six of the couples met at Brown County State Park in Indiana.  The get together was a hit and they vowed to do it again the following year.

In 1972 they met at Kentucky Lake, the following year at a state park in western Tennessee, the get togethers continued year after year after year.  There was a couple year break in the early eighties.  They didn't meet in 1989, the year Bob became the first member of the group to pass away.  They didn't meet between 1994 and 1996 when my parents, Arnold and Charlotte, lived in Italy, though almost all of them made the trek to Torino.  Some more than once.  Not all nine couples could make it every year, but most of them could.  

The get togethers continued into the new millennium.  My dad was the second member of the group to pass away, that was in 2009.  When my mom remarried in 2010, Tom was accepted into the group just like he had been part since the late sixties.

The gift of time is frequently a friend, but it is almost certainly a curse as well.  In the past ten years, Dan has died, Mike passed away, as has Dick.  two of the wives, Kay and Mona, have also gone to their reward.  Then, as mentioned at the beginning, Jack died this past week, barely a month after Ron passed away.

The last meeting of the group was in 2016, 46 years after their first get together.  For 46 years, these couples, these friends, who had everything in common, pledged to get together the following year for a weekend of laughing, eating, praying, catching up, and yes, at times, crying.  

To me, one of the kids from this group, it is a remarkable feat, to love others so much, that despite separated by miles, by time, the friendships were so valued, so cherished, they worked at maintaining and nurturing them.

Don and Ann's daughter Paige, Bob and Mona's daughter Lisa, are the two closest things I have to sisters.  I love them both dearly.  If anything happened to my folks, Mike and Nan would become my parents.  I loved them as much as anyone in the group.

There is a lesson to be learned.  Choose your friends wisely, choose good people, people who make you a better person, people you can always, always depend on, no matter what, people who your kids can look up to.

I see this happening in some of the couples at Sherrod Ave., where M and I attend.  It thrills me to see this next generation taking care of each other, just as "The Group" took care of each other for nearly 50 years.

I was blessed to have had a front-row seat to all of this.

Thanks for stopping by, be kind to each other.

Mom

 It is such a simple word....mom, just three letters, one of which repeats.  Tomorrow is Mother's Day, and Marilyn and I are blessed to be in St. Louis to spend Mother's Day with my mom.  We are going to celebrate my going to church together, then coming back to her and Tom's condo and having pulled pork for lunch.  Following that, we will visit, tell big ones and watch the Cardinals.  Sounds like it is going to be a pretty good day.

This past year has been a rough one for my mother.  As she approaches her 89th birthday this fall, it is natural, and expected for there to be health issues, and the past 12 months were no exception.  She has neuropathy in her feet, which makes her unsteady, consequently there were some falls, which resulted with several trips to the ER, a couple of the falls resulted in broken bones, and a partial replacement of one of her hips.  She was diagnosed with breast cancer and had a bout of pneumonia in both lungs, both of which she brushed off as if they were a housefly.  There was also a three-week stay in residential rehab.  

Yet last night, she had dinner prepared, wonderful meatloaf, roasted potatoes with various herbs, salad and sourdough bread.  She also surprised me by baking several loaves of Boston Brown Bread, one of my favorite things she makes.  She and my stepfather Tom are happy, despite slowing down and having various health issues.  They love each other very much and are a pleasure to watch.

I was blessed with wonderful parents, and I know my brother Barry will say the same thing.  I know he will have something personal and meaningful to say as well on his forum.  This morning on this blog, I am going to focus on some ways my mother has been an influence on me.  Personality traits that have carried down from the Dalton and Poteet family tree

My dad passed away in 2009, and I miss him every day.  A kind man and great example, with tremendous work ethic.  He loved God, my mother and my brother and I.  And everybody loved him, and I am grateful for what he taught me, and for the personality traits I inherited from him.

But I can same say the same thing about my mother, and I want to touch on a few of the things I learned from her and continue to learn.

Love God Always - This really should come as no surprise.  All of you who know her know how much of a servant she was.  Whether it be cooking for someone, opening up their home for family, friends and strangers.  rushing to the side of a friend going through rough times to listen to them or hold them.  I know she loved my dad and Tom, my brother and I, but first and foremost she loves God.

Love your Spouse - There is no doubt my mother and father shared a deep love for each other.  They demonstrated their love each other and talked about it in front of the kids.  We learned to love from the example they set.  The example?  Love unconditionally, acknowledge mistakes, be forgiving, learn to like the same things, as mentioned above, put God first in everything.  Never go to bed mad, let your children see you love each other.

Love your Family - Growing up my mother had over two dozen first cousins.  I have six.  The majority of her cousins lived close to her in Biggers and Reyno in Randolph County, Arkansas.  Both sides of her family are precious to her.  We spent many, many long weekends or vacations driving to Arkansas to spend time with family.  When we get together, like this weekend, I will spend a lot of time listening to her talk about her cousins, Dickie and Herman, Jean and Brenda, Donald and Wayne and all the fun they had.  There are more stories about her grandparents and numerous aunts and uncles.  Family is important, love them, keep in touch, let them know you are thinking of them and miss them.   That is a trait I definitely inherited.

Nurture Friendships - One things that has been very hard on my mother as she has grown older is losing so many friends.  It depresses her.  Last night as we were sitting around the dinner table talking after we had finished our meal, she talked about Kay and Mona, and Beverly and Barbara, and how much she misses them, as all have dies in the past few years. She talks about her friends who are still here but are struggling with their health.  Faye and Fern, Frances and Ann.  Her cousins Lynn and Ann.  She still talks to them frequently, cherishing the bond that still exists.  

That trait certainly was passed down to me.  I think of the friends I have had and have now, how much they have meant to me and how much I appreciate them.  As I get older, I try to make more of an effort to stay in touch.  My cousin Frank, my brother-in-law Mike, my South Georgia friend Mike are all like extra brothers.  Lisa and Paige were daughters of my parent's best friends; I consider them my sisters.  Since moving to Alabama, I have been blessed beyond measure by Ken, Will and Donnie, Amanda, Tiffany and Allison.  Credit goes to my mother as I watched nurture and cherish her friends,  I do too.

Travel - It seems like every year growing up, we went somewhere on vacation.  As I mentioned earlier, we made frequent trips to Arkansas to see family.  We made trips to Hawaii, to Florida, to Washington DC, to Europe.  My parents shared a sense of adventure and travel, and that was a trait that was passed down.  Mom was the travel planner, and dad was always ready to go.  Me too.

Cooking - My mother is a wonderful cook, her mother, my Granny, was a wonderful cook.  Mom was a master at being creative, she could open the pantry door, look at what was available, grab a few things and within an hour have a tasty, unnamed dish on the table.  It was and still is incredible.  It is no stretch to know that both my brother and I love to cook and be creative when we cook.  There is no doubt that gift came from her.

Writing - Ah, you knew this one was coming didn't you.  I love to write, I worked for a newspaper for 15 years, and on average would write 7,000 to 8,000 words a week.  It was easy, it was fun, I genuinely love to write.  But it had to come from somewhere, and it came from my mother., and for that I am very grateful.

Laugh - I learned at a young age it is good to have a sense of humor.  It really is the best medicine.  Our house was frequently filled with laughter and I learned not to take myself too seriously.  Have you noticed you can't laugh without smiling.  I love to laugh....a lot.  Yeah, this probably should have been higher.

I am very grateful God gave me the mother he did.  As it is in everything, his wisdom is perfect.  She was not perfect, but she was perfect for my dad, Barry and myself.  I am blessed beyond measure that at 88 she is still with us and doing pretty well.  I give thanks to God for that every single day.

If your mother is still alive, I hope you have opportunity to see her or talk to her.  If your mother has passed, cherish the memories you have, and take stock of the ways she still influences you.

We are a blessed people.  Have a great week.  Be kind to each other.

The Mourning Dove and other winged friends

When you are retired it is important to have some hobbies.  You can't just sit around the house all day in the recliner with a beverage in one hand and the television remote in the other.  I mean you could, but I don't think that is a very good idea.

Now that I have the knee and hip replacement surgeries behind me, which have allowed me to be more mobile, I just feel better, which is a very good thing, especially for your mental well-being.

So I have developed some hobbies which are not so much physically active, but certainly have kept me mentally active.  I seriously follow the Cardinals and Blues, which has been both good and bad, and along with that I participate in several rotisserie baseball and hockey leagues.  Like several of my ancestors who have passed, I have a sincere interest in genealogy.  I like knowing who I am and where I came from.  My ancestry DNA shows I'm 76 percent from the UK, but I do have some French, German and Danish blood in me as well.  Go figure.  

I also like to cook.  M is a much, much better cook than I am, but she says I am more of a chef than she is.  She says that because I don't measure and the dishes I make are generally just made up on the fly.  The garden is a hobby as is following Flight Radar 24.  As my friends Justin Pannell and Josh Donnan would say, it's relaxing to be focused on MEM shortly after midnight and watch the FedEx planes come in.

Those are all hobbies that I've had more than a passing interest in over the years, but I have one hobby that is relatively new.  It actually grabbed my attention about 13 months ago.

Last April M and I were at her sister Paula and her husband Mike's cabin in Mountain View, Arkansas to watch the total solar eclipse, which by the way was spectacular.  Their home is at the end of a dirt road, off a dirt road.  You don't get there by accident.  Anyway, one morning, Mike and I were sitting on the front porch talking, drinking our coffee, and he showed me an app on his phone called Merlin, which was created by the Orinthology Department at Cornell University.  After installing it, you activate and at your leisure hit "Sound ID", and it listens for birds in the area you are occupying.  I like birds, my dad was a bird watcher, so I installed it.  Once on, sitting there on top of a ridge in Stone County, Arkansas, the first bird it identified was a Mourning Dove.  It quickly identified several other birds whose songs we could hear.  I was hooked.

Since the app is on my phone, I've "bird-listened" in Arkansas, Alabama, Georgia, South Carolina and Florida.  In the 13 months since I first registered the mourning dove, I have heard 81 different species of birds!  I mean 81!  I'm not sure a year ago I could have named 81 different species.

When we were on Hilton Head Island last month I heard herons and egrets, birds not normally heard in and around Tuscumbia.  One day while we were on the island, I drove alone to the Hilton Head Forest Preserve and then to Pinckney Island with the express intent of listening to birds!   Seriously, can you believe that.  One morning last fall we were at Jonathan and Lea Snell's and I heard and saw an osprey.  I was almost as excited about that as I was Lea's shrimp and grits.

One day last week, a day it wasn't raining, I was on our back deck with my coffee and my phone.  It was about 7.30 in the morning or so and the birds were singing, so I turned Merlin on.  When I went inside about an hour and a half later, Merlin had identified 20 different species, including two I hadn't heard before, the eastern meadowlark and the rose-breasted grosbeak!  I am not exaggerating too much when I say that excited me more than the Cardinals sweeping the Mets in a doubleheader.

Sure, there are some birds easy to identify, the mourning dove with its distinctive "cooing" sound, the crow or blue jay, or the hooting of an owl.  I never thought in my wildest dreams I could instantly identify a northern cardinal, or a Carolina wren, or tufted titmouse by their sound.  But I can now.

In case you are wondering, Merlin has over 1,300 birds in their data base, so I have a lot of listening to do.  So I'll be on the back deck a lot, just listening to the birds, hoping for something new.  If you're in the neighborhood stop by, I'm sure I'll have some coffee ready, and we can enjoy God's gift of birds together.

Have a wonderful Monday and be nice to each other.

Saturday Matinee in Heaven

 I am not telling you anything you don't already know when I say that I believe I think differently than most people.  That is not necessarily a bad thing, but I have always had a habit of looking at things from a different angle.  Granted sometimes that angle is slightly askew.  Maybe that comes from my time as a journalist, always looking for a different angle.  Could be hereditary.  My mother is a good writer, my great-uncle Lawrence Dalton was a published author, it runs in the family.

But the thought that has been running through my head for some time is more visual than literary, but still, I haven't heard anyone else mention anything like this, so maybe it is my own different thinking.

For my entire life, I have been a student of the Bible.  I have read and studied so much of it.  Many of the stories and passages I have read are etched in my mind using my own imagination.  But there are many events of the Bible I want to see, that I would like to have witnessed.

I know we will be singing and worshipping and praising God for eternity.  I firmly believe that, but I am not limiting our time in heaven to just that, even though that may be the case.  I do not believe I am being blasphemous when I say this, but wouldn't it be cool when we get to heaven, if periodically we have question and answer time with one of the individuals of the Bible.  We are all gathered together, and we get to talk to say, Peter.  I can imagine the first question, "Peter, what were you thinking..."  Or imagine God stretching out his hand and across the heaven and there appear images of an important event from scriptures. 

It's the latter I want to swell on today.  There are so many things I would have liked to have been a witness to.  I am sure when you think about it, you probably have as well.  Ok here is my abbreviated list of things I would have liked to have witnessed.

God closes the door to the ark - Genesis 7 - We know that God shut the door to the ark, but before he did, with his family safely on board, did Noah come to the door and take one last look around?  When the door was next opened, the world would have been changed

Jacob meets Esau - Genesis 33 - This a tear-jerker, something you would witness on Hallmark.  You remember Jacob tricked Esau out of his birthright, infuriating Esau, who threatened to kill him.  Many years later they have a planned meeting.  Jacob is scared, Esau embraces him, they hug, they cry.  They are once again brothers.

Joseph reveals himself to his brothers - Genesis 45 - We all know the story.  Joseph was the favorite of his father Jacob, who did not hide his favoritism.  The brothers hated Joseph for it and sold him into slavery in Egypt, telling their father a wild animal had killed him.  Joseph eventually prospered in Egypt, becoming second only to Pharoah.  His brothers came looking for food during a famine, and did not recognize Joseph.  He eventually reveals himself.  If I were there, not a dry eye.

The burning bush - Exodus 3 - Moses has fled Egypt after killing an Egyptian and was in the land of Horeb.  God appears to Moses through a bush that was burning yet was not consumed by fire, telling him to go back to Egypt.  Wouldn't you have like to have been behind a rock watching

The fall of Jericho - Joshua 6 - I imagine this would be on a lot of lists.  For seven days they marched around the walled city.  On the last of seven laps on the last day they blew their trumpets and the walls of the city collapsed.  Wow

Elijah taunts Baal's prophets on Mt. Carmel - 1 Kings 18 - Elijah prepares a bull for sacrifice as do the prophets of Baal.  The prophets of Baal call on him to send fire to consume the slain animal, but nothing happens.  Elijah then taunts them, look at verse 27.  "At noon Elijah began to taunt them. Shout louder, he said, perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling.  Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened."  We have our first example of trash-talking.

David and the death of his infant son - 2 Samuel 12 - Nathan had told David of his sin with Bathsheba, and God struck the child making him ill.  David laid on the ground for seven days, refusing to eat and pleading with God for the child's life.  When the child died on the seventh day, David got up, bathed, put on clean garments and ate.  God had spoken

Ezekiel and the dry bones - Ezekiel 37 - God leads the prophet Ezekiel to a valley of dry bones and has him prophesy over them.  The bones start rattling, then come together, eventually until a vast army stands before Ezekiel, and then God breathes life into them.

Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego - Daniel 3 - The trio are thrown into the fiery furnace for failing to bow down and worship the idols set up by King Nebuchadnezzar.  As the soldiers watch, a fourth image appears with the three

Mary and the Shepherds - Luke 2 - The Shepherds are in their field tending their sheep at night when an angel appeared telling them of the birth of Christ, followed by a company of angels praising God.  They visit the baby, Joseph and Mary telling of what they had seen and been told.  Verse 19 tells us that Mary treasured these things and pondered them in her heart.  Another tender moment I would have liked to have seen.

Jesus looks at Peter - Luke 22 - Honestly, this may be at the top of my list.  We all know Christ told Peter that he (Peter) would deny him three times before the rooster crowed.  Peter of course denies he would ever do such a thing, but he does.  The third denial is barely out of Peter's mouth when the rooster crowed.  Peter then remembered Christ's words from earlier in the evening. Luke is the only one to tell us Christ reaction.  Matthew, Mark and John do not, but Luke writes, "...as he (Peter) was speaking, the rooster crowed.  The Lord turned and looked at Peter, and then Peter remembered the word the Lord had spoken to him."  What did Peter see on Christ face?  I think he saw love, I really do, love and forgiveness.

Christ asks for something to eat - Luke 24 - This is one of those things that often made me wonder, why is that in there?  I think I know now, he was showing his apostles he was indeed alive, because while talking to them he asks if they "have anything to eat."  They gave him a piece of broiled fish and he ate it.  So simple, but so powerful

Paul and the road to Damascus - Acts 9 - Here we have Saul, Pharisee, Roman citizen and persecutor of Christians is heading to Damascus to look for other followers of Christ.  On the road a bright light appears, Paul is struck blind and the Lord talks to Saul, telling him to go into the city to the home of Ananias.  The rest is history.  Saul becomes Paul, he is changed.  He has gone from persecutor to preacher, spreading the Good News.  Oh, to have been a witness to that.

These are just a few of the things I want to see on the Saturday matinee in heaven.  There are many others, just I'm sure I didn't mention everything you might want to see.  It may happen.  I don't know, but we will find out one day.

Thank you for reading.  Be kind to each other.