SEC picks - Week 1

 Hey kids, welcome back to the 47th year of picking SEC football.  Last year was not my best year, but hey, I had more winners than I got wrong, so that's a good thing isn't it?

You may have noticed we have a new forum this year.  I have signed an Executive Order moving the pics from Facebook to Baseball, God and Tacos.  I'm not sure why I'm doing it, just something different.

By typing this on Friday afternoon, I missed last night's season opener between Missouri and Central Arkansas.  Since most of you know I grew up in Missouri, and UCA has only been in Division I a few years, the odds of me picking UCA are pretty much the same as me voting for Donald Trump.  That is to say, nil.  So I am giving myself a spirit win for the Tigers 61-6 blowout of the Bears last night.

Ok, fasten your seat belts, have your snacks and favorite beverages handy, here are the remaining 15 games.

Auburn at Baylor - Fri. 7p - Fox - For the second night in a row, we have a game between the Tigers and Bears, and we might as well start off getting everyone's attention.  I'll take the Bears in Waco.  At this point, I'm just not sold on Coach Freeze.  Baylor 37, Auburn 28

Mississippi State at Southern Miss - Sat. 11a - ESPN - Charles Huff is in his first year at Hattiesburg coaching the Golden Eagles, having left Marshall and bringing about 60 of his players with him.  Still, I have confidence in the boys from StarkVegas.  Mississippi State 42, Southern Miss 24

Syracuse at Tennessee - Sat. 11a - ABC - I think this is kind of cute, the Orangemen come down south to play the Vols, who think they invented orange.  The Orange shall prevail; that's the Rocky Top Orange.  Tennessee 45, Syracuse 17

Texas at Ohio State - Sat. 11a - Fox - I predict the Longhorns will be grazing on Buckeyes for their lunch.  Nearly everyone's preseason pick to be National Champion goes to Columbus and leaves the Horseshoe with a win.  Texas 31, The Ohio State University 21

Toledo at Kentucky - Sat. 11.45a - SEC - As we all know, at Kentucky, football is just something they do until basketball season starts.  The Zips (what kind of mascot is a Zip? Is the speedy zip code guy their mascot?)  I'll take the mighty MAC in a mild upset.  Akron 24, Kentucky 20

Marshall at Georgia - Sat. 2.45p - ESPN - We know the Georgia Bulldogs are really good.  We know the Marshall Thundering Herd (that's a better name than Zips) are from West Virginia.  Georgia is better than Mizzou, and Marshall is probably better than UCA.  But then again, their head coach and all their players fled for Hattiesburg.  Same score as last night.  Georgia 61, Marshall 6

Alabama at Florida State - Sat. 2.45p - ABC - My good friend Jess loves the Crimson Tide.  His wife, my good friend Kim, is from Jacksonville, Fla., and absolutely loves the Seminoles.  I wonder if they will be watching in separate rooms?  I don't want Kim mad at me, but here goes.  Bama 33, Florida State 24

Alabama A&M at Arkansas - Sat. 3.15p - SEC - M and I were in Huntsville yesterday, and I did not see a long line of cars leaving Madison County for Fayetteville.  Advantage Arkansas.  Arkansas 52, Alabama A&M 7

Illinois State at Oklahoma - Sat 5p - SEC - No line on this game, therefore no commentary.  Oklahoma 63, Illinois State 7

Texas-San Antonio (UTSA) at Texas A&M - Sat. 6p - ESPN.  The Aggies are favored, as they should be, but the Roadrunners are a fiesty little team.  At least they were last year.  This could be an interesting game for awhile.  A&M 35, UTSA 27

Charleston Southern at Vanderbilt - Sat 6p - SEC - This would be a great baseball game.  It may be a good football game.  I like the matchup, the Pirates against the Commodores.  Even though Charleston is one of my favorite cities, I'm taking Nashville, even though I hate their traffic.  Vandy 38, Charleston Southern 14

Long Island University at Florida - Sat 6p - SEC - Long Island University?  Seriously?  I thought it was just tennis, golf and croquet on Long Island.  Ive been there, and I can say with certainty I did not see anyone playing football, playing catch with a football, I didn't even see one laying unattended in a vacant lot.  I'm surprised this game is not on some Public Access channel.  Florida 124, Long Island 0

LSU at Clemson - Sat. 6.30p - ABC - The Tigers will win.  Of that we can be assured.  But will it be the purple/gold or the purple/orange?  I was born in Louisiana, and for that reason, and that reason only, I'm picking LSU.  I know, not very smart.  LSU 33, Clemson 31

Georgia State at Ole Miss - Sat. 6.45p - SEC - Have I told you my younger son Clayton is a graduate of Georgia State.  When I asked him who would win this game, he laughed.  Not only is he my kid, he's smart as well.  Ole Miss 49, Georgia State 14

Virginia Tech at South Carolina - Sun. 2p - ESPN - I'll be visiting South Carolina for a couple of weeks at the end of October.  I currently have no plans to visit Virginia anytime soon.  South Carolina 34, Va Tech 24

Well, that will do it for the first week prognostications.  Remember, these picks are for entertainment purposes only.  Find a comfortable seat, college football is about to begin.  Enjoy the toasted ravioli.

A Day in the Life

 Greetings again my fellow lovers of Baseball, God and Tacos, and those of you perhaps tuning in for the first time.  Hope you are having a tremendous start to your week.  

Well, we had an interesting day in the Sullivan household (Alabama edition) yesterday.  It had such wonderful potential.  

I had an 8 a.m. appointment at Long-Lewis Ford, to get the oil changed.  I was in position at Bay #3 at 7.56 a.m. and they waved me in.  I had the oil changed with six quarts of 5w-30 and had all four tires rotated on Blackie (our Black Ford Edge, the other Edge is "Red", well, because it is red.  Don't you name your cars?).  I was in and out of LLF in less than 30 minutes.  Good job guys!

I headed east on Avalon passing FAME Studios, Muscle Shoals High School, DQ, Papa Wok (we love that place) and other points of interest to Wilson Dam Road.  I pulled into Tidal Wave Car Wash (No, I am not receiving compensation for mentioning businesses, but maybe I should) because frankly, Blackie needed a bath.  I was talking to my brother Barry, who lives in Virginia on my cell as I rode through the automatic wash, and I am pleased to say my Samsung S23/AT&T connection held the call nicely.  We hung up as I parked Blackie.  Using the complimentary towels, (a very nice touch) I wiped Blackie down, making her (him?) sparkle in the mid-morning sun.  Hey, don't you sparkle if your spouse rubs you down?  I thought so.  I emptied the trash from the car and off we went to our next adventure.

Heading south on Wilson Dam Road, I turned right on Sixth Street heading west.  Passing at least one Dollar General and Cypress Lakes Golf Course, I pulled into the parking lot at Publix, at the intersection with Woodward.  I parked Blackie, still sparkling, and went into Great Clips for my semi-annual shearing.  Look, I will freely admit, if I wasn't bald, I would grow my hair long.  Not down to my waist long, but certainly shoulder length or a bit longer.  But if I do that, I look like Ben Franklin, and he's 300 years old.

Two gals were on duty, so there was no waiting.  An African-American gal cut my hair, and in the 15 minutes or so it took to for her to cut my hair, we discussed music, our ages (68 and 38) why she was working on her day off, and how she thought grey hair was her favorite.  Her hair was jet black, and she said she wished she had a grey streak in it, you know, just something different.  I told her about a good friend (Allison Blair), who is in her late 40's and has long blondish hair, and was contemplating getting purple tips to her hair and that I had encouraged her to do so.  My stylist immediately was in favor of it as well and asked me in all seriousness if I would like to have purple tips.  I said I'll pass today, but thanks for asking.

As she was finishing the bush-hogging of my hair, she started talking about how much she loved red hair as well.  At this point, I felt obligated to show her pictures of my Eleanor and Isaac, my two red-headed grandkids. She was so excited, I thought she was going to stroke out.  She was beside herself.  "I love red-headed kids, they are so cute."  I think at that point her tip just went up.  I was two pounds lighter when she finished.  I paid my bill (love that senior discount), left a generous tip for her as she prepared to bale the hair she had cut off my head.

On the way home I called M.  She was at Sherrod as she is most Monday mornings, sewing with Susan  May, Tina Riner and Joy Bell.  This morning, it was just her and Susan.  She reminded me Cook's Pest Control would be coming by about 11 to check for termites.

The termite dude actually arrived about 40 minutes early.  I was sitting in my rocker on the back deck listening to birds and Sirius Classic Vinyl when he arrived.  He did his thing checking traps and making a lap or two around the house before heading into the crawl space under the house inspecting for evidence of the wood-eating critters (fortunately, he found none).  When he crawled out, his first words were, "has your water-bill been high?  You've got a pretty good leak."  

Flashback!  The night before, which would have been Sunday, I was sitting where I am now, at the laptop in the library, bemoaning my four baseball rotisserie teams, all of which have losing records.  But that is another blog for another day.

I was sitting here and M calls from the hall bathroom, "Can you come here?"  She said it in such a way that I wasn't really sure I wanted to go back there and see what she wanted.  So I responded with, "where are you?"   The response was a shocker, "in the hall bathroom."

I walk back there and she says, "Do you hear that?"  Honestly, I didn't hear a thing, so she opened the door to where the hot water is.  "Hear it now?"  I did, very faintly.  She thought it sounded like a water leak, I thought it sounded like a gas leak, but I didn't smell gas.  (I didn't realize until yesterday our hot water heater is electric, not gas.  Really?)

So at about 11 p.m. Sunday night, M, dressed in her swimsuit cover up, takes her phone and heads outside to look for a water leak.  I look inside.  We both come up empty and head to bed.

But now, approaching noon on Monday, the culprit has been found.  The termite dude said it didn't look like it had been leaking very long, which would make sense since super ears (not me) hadn't heard anything.  He was also sure a leak in the copper line was not caused by a termite.

M gets home from sewing, with a stop at Aldi, and I share the news.  She immediately calls Fuller, and much to our delight, they had two workers in Tuscumbia, and they would send over the first one available.  He was there within an hour and confirmed the leak.  It was a hot-water line and was not at a joint or connection, which surprised me.  He had it fixed in 30-40 minutes or so and left us with the bill and no leaks.

An hour or two later, I was taking a nap, because a) I had gotten up early, and was a little tired, and b) that's what old, retired men do in the afternoon.  While I was sleeping, M decided to get on the 46-inch Husqvarna and do some mowing.  She finished most of the back yard and dumped the grass collected in the compost pile.  When she got back on the orange tractor (which could really use a trip to Tidal Wave), the blades would not engage.  At all.  A child of seven can tell you if the blades aren't spinning, the grass isn't getting cut.  So another crisis arises that we will need to deal with.

But let's briefly fast-forward to this morning.  M has a 7.45a appointment for blood work at Medical Associates of the Shoals in Sheffield, followed by an appointment to see Dr. Vacik, our regular physician.  Nothing wrong, we both do these every six months.  But after giving several vials of blood and before her appointment with the doc, she is sitting in the waiting room and strikes up a conversation with a gentleman.  Fairly quickly they start talking about lawn mowers.  M mentions the Husqvarna and its struggles the day before.  He suggests a belt or chain may be loose or off completely.  Makes sense to me, we will check it out.  Stay tuned

It's an amazing thing really.  Only in the rural south can the termite dude tell you about your water leak, and a stranger at the doctor's office offer advice on fixing your lawn mower.  Is this a great country or what.

After the full day of highs and lows, I would be remiss if I didn't mention my Cardinals.  After blowing a lead over the Pirates in the top of the ninth, my favorite player, Alec "Biscuits" Burleson, hits a two-out, walk-off home run and the Cardinals won 7-6.  I went to bed happy. 

All in all, as Mr. Rogers would say, it was a beautiful day in the neighborhood.

Thanks for stopping by.  Be good to each other.   See you down the road

SEC - Part I

 I know, I know, it is college football season.  I'll be honest, it kind of snuck up on me as well.

Did you know, Saturday's Game Day on ESPN, will be the last appearance of Lee Corso.  I mean, he has been on the show since they had leather helmets, and the forward pass was illegal.  When he started the national powers were Princeton and Army.  I say all of that in jest of course, because Coach Corso is a treasure.  He is one of the cogs that makes Game Day so successful.  I mean, who else could try on all of those mascot heads.....and look cool doing it.  I tell you; he had the royal wave down better than the Queen herself.  I hope, at least half a dozen times on Saturday, he takes his ever-present pencil, points it at the guest prognosticator and says, "not so fast!"  I will miss him.  I hope Rece and Dez and Herbstreit allow their emotions to be real.    

I'm going to miss him.  Don't forget, 8 a.m. Saturday morning from Tallahassee.

Ok, on to the main part of this blog.  If you are a die-hard fan of the SEC, and seriously, what other kind of fan is there?  (BC, I don't want to hear a word about Michigan and the Big 10.  Barry, I don't want to hear about UVA and the ACC, unless it is about Clemson), you are more than ready for the football season to start, which for SEC fans it does this Thursday night, when Mizzou hosts Central Arkansas, then continues on Friday when Auburn visits Baylor.  The other 14 teams will play on Saturday, except for South Carolina, which plays Sunday.

You may have seen the SEC announced in 2026 they are going to nine conference games.  Each school will have three "permanent" opponents.  Schools they will play every year.  They will play six of the remaining 12 in 2026, and the other six in 2027, rotating between home and away.  

What this means is, every team in the SEC will play every team in the conference at least every other year and will visit every school at least once every four years.

Now, the permanent opponents were not named, but I have taken the opportunity to do the work for the SEC Scheduling Office in Birmingham.  I'm confident they will send a thank you or a fruit basket later. I mean, I'm doing their work for them.

Ok, here we go with my three permanent opponents for every SEC school.

Alabama - Auburn, Mississippi State, Tennessee

This may have been the easiest of the 16 to decide.

Arkansas - LSU, Missouri, Texas

The Hogs keep all of their rivals.  Of course if you ask someone from Texas, they will say their rivals are Oklahoma and A&M

Auburn - Alabama, Georgia, Ole Miss

Bama and Georgia were no-brainers.  I thought it would be good they play someone from next door

Florida - Georgia, LSU, South Carolina

This one was pretty much a no-brainer as well.

Georgia - Auburn, Florida, South Carolina

I don't expect to hear any arguments over this one either

Kentucky - Ole Miss, Tennessee, Vanderbilt

The Wildcats are up there by themselves in Lexington.  The last two were pretty easy, and I think Ole Miss makes a nice third choice

LSU - Arkansas, Florida, Texas A&M

I would imagine the good folks in Baton Rouge will be pretty happy with the three I selected for them

Mississippi State - Alabama, Ole Miss, Vanderbilt

I really debated on adding Vandy.  It was them or Oklahoma and that just didn't seem fair, so Vandy it is

Missouri - Arkansas, Oklahoma, South Carolina

The first two were easy.  By playing South Carolina every year, you have the annual battle of the Columbias.

Oklahoma - Missouri, Texas, Texas A&M

Kind of looks like an old Big XII schedule for the Sooners

Ole Miss - Auburn, Kentucky, Mississippi State

As long as there is an Egg Bowl every year, I don't think Ole Miss cares who their permanent opponent is besides the Bulldogs

South Carolina - Florida, Georgia, Missouri

Florida and Georgia were a given, and I just explained Mizzou

Tennessee - Alabama, Kentucky, Vanderbilt

Any questions?  Good, next!

Texas - Arkansas, Oklahoma, Texas A&M

Yeah, kind of proud of my work here

Texas A&M - LSU, Oklahoma, Texas

The Aggies may cry foul, but I think it is pretty good, all local schools, all good schools, all Top 25 schools

Vanderbilt - Kentucky, Mississippi State, Tennessee

Kentucky and the Vols were written in ink, and really, it's not that far from Nashville to Starkville.

Take a few moments to digest all of this, take some notes and fire away, or if you know someone in the SEC office, feel free to send this to them.  Either way, clip and save and we will see how close we all were.  

You'll notice this says Part I.  I have a Part II, which is already partially finished, that I will share in a day or two.

Have a great week, Be kind to each other.  More SEC silliness is around the corner.

Cars (Part II) - The DWI Incident

Welcome back to part two of the "Cars" blog.  Seems like I left some folks hanging, most notably, my mother.

As you might recall from yesterday's dispatch, I talked about coming across pictures over the weekend of my first car, a 1969 VW Bug, and my first brand-new car, a 1982 Chevrolet Camaro.  It seems in the body of the story, the third paragraph to be exact, I wrote these words, "and the DWI incident of June 30, 1986, which is a story for another day."  I knew the story, and M knew the story, but as it turns out, few if anyone else did.  Apparently, I should have clarified what I wrote.

Talking to my mother this morning, she mentioned reading yesterday's blog, and then said, and this is a direct quote from her lips, "I read your blog and one thing surprised me.  Want to guess what it was?"  I responded like any son and said, "the fact that I drove my new Camaro 120 mph?"   She calmly responded with, "no, that didn't surprise me.  What surprised me was you got a DWI.  You never told me that."   Now it was my turn to be surprised.  I responded, "I never got a DWI, did I write that?  For the record, even if I did, I wouldn't tell you."  She said I mentioned something about the DWI incident of 1986.  Now I remember, and she was right, I did not elaborate on it.  But as I mentioned then, and above, "that is a story for another day."   To save my reputation, and expound on the DWI incident, and appease my mother, another day has arrived.

Ok, I'll make this as brief as I can.  I mentioned the DWI incident of June 30, 1986.  Trish (my first wife) and I were in the St. Louis suburb of Florissant, making arrangements for the tuxes, as our wedding was only three months away.  I was driving on West Florissant Road, maybe a half mile south of I-270.  It was summer, it was hot, but there was a nice breeze blowing and for some reason, I had the windows down, which turned out to be a blessing.  I was doing about 40 mph when the Camaro died.

West Florissant Road was four-lane, and I was in the far-right lane driving south, when all of a sudden, through the trees and bushes on my right, I saw a car driving at a high rate of speed coming out of a parking lot.  I had no time to react.  I hit this Datsun/Nissan broad side on the driver's side door, as I said, at about 40 miles per hour.  The vehicle became airborne after I hit it and cleared all four lanes of traffic.  It landed upside down in a ravine, about 50 feet from where we had made contact.  My door wouldn't work, but the window was open, so I climbed out the window like I was a NASCAR driver and ran across the road.  Numerous cars had already stopped, and several individuals had already made their way down the 10 feet or so to where the car I had just hit lay.

It was a surreal scene, just like the movies.  The wheels were still spinning; steam was coming from the engine.  The driver, a male, who appeared to be about my age (29), was half-in, half out of the driver's side window.  He was covered in broken glass and blood.  He was not moving.  I sincerely thought I had killed him.  About 30 seconds or so later, he started moaning and moving a bit.  He was alive.  The paramedics arrived quickly and took him to the nearest hospital.

While this was going on, a number of witnesses gave me their name and number telling me they saw the whole thing, that it was not my fault.  The driver had gone right through a stop sign.  An officer from the St. Louis County Police also arrived quickly and I talked to him.  I made him promise to call me, no matter the hour, to fill me in on the condition of the other person.

We went to the ER at DePaul Hospital in Bridgeton to be checked out as we both had minor injuries.  Trish was in shock over the events; I was wearing shorts and had two bloody knees from where they had hit the underside of the dashboard on impact.  Otherwise, we were ok.  My Camaro was no more.  The entire front end was up against the firewall.  I should add the officer did call me about 11 that night, about five hours after the accident.  He said the driver was ok and would live.  He had been drinking.  A lot.  His blood alcohol was 0.28   In Missouri that is about three and-a-half times over the legal limit of 0.08.  The officer actually said the fact he was that drunk probably saved his life.  He also added the gentleman I had hit was driving on a suspended driver's license, had no insurance, and had received another DWI just three weeks prior.

So there you have it, the DWI incident of June 30, 1986.  Trish and I could have very easily been killed or seriously injured if I had been just one second faster.  As I mentioned in yesterday's blog, for about a minute, I thought I had killed another person.  Fortunately, no one died.  I have talked about that evening to various high school Bible classes many times.  For every action, there is a consequence.  Choose your actions carefully, make wise decisions, and remember that sometimes, the actions of others, have dire consequences for us.

The lesson was simple.  Use your head and make good choices.  By putting yourself in danger, you can also be endangering the life of others.

Be kind to each other and care for one another.   See you back here in a few days.

Cars

I was going through some old pictures the other day, and several of the pictures really made me smile.  I went through hundreds of pics, nothing even remotely as sharp as the digital pics of today, but still, you can see what you're looking at.  

If you remember, a week or two ago I wrote about taking my first steps in the Gulf of Mexico near Beaumont, Texas.  Two pictures from that day are in there, as is a picture of me and my brother at our great-grandpa Sullivan's house in Murfreesboro, Arkansas.  On this sunny day in southwest Arkansas, I appear to be four or five, which would make my brother Barry two or three.  We are standing about six feet apart with a string of fish, perch I believe, between us.  What makes this photo so cool is we are both standing there in our J. C. Penney white cotton underwear.  Don't laugh, I'm sure there is a picture of most of you dressed like that floating around somewhere.

But two of the pics were of cars--the first car I ever owned, and the first new car I ever purchased.  Memories flooded me.  How much I paid for each, the number of tickets I got in each, old girlfriends whom I dated (actually there are not that many), the accidents I had in each, and the DWI incident of June 30, 1986, which is a story for another day.

I bought my first car in the spring of 1977.  I had decided, or should I say Harding had decided for me, that if I returned for my third year, there would be certain, how can I put it, restrictions on me.  Like I was on double-secret probation.  Let's be honest.  Teachers hated me.  I was a smart kid, who hated to study, was undisciplined, and sometimes missed class in order to play intramural sports.  I was a waste of talent.

But I've done ok for myself, but that is a story for another blog.  Staying home, I got a job with McDonnell Douglas in St. Louis.   I rode to work with Dad for a while, but we worked a couple miles apart in the vast McDonnell complex at Lambert Field in St. Louis.  My mother, who was working at Ozark Airlines at the time, told me one of the engineers at Ozark had a Volkswagen Beetle he was going to sell.  Two of my best friends at the time, Steve Hays and Paul Council, both had VW Beetles and loved them.  So I bought Mr. Cook's 1969 baby blue VW Beetle for $1,000.

It was a three-speed. The engine, which was about the size of a Briggs and Stratton lawn mower engine, was in the rear.  Lifting up the front hood revealed my athletic locker.  Baseball spikes, gloves, bats, shorts, windbreaker, tennis shoes, etc.  You could even put suitcases in it if needed.

I don't remember how many miles were on it.  In addition to the speedometer, it had a tach on it, which I found fascinating.  Neither one of our family cars had this feature.  As I mentioned earlier, the color was baby blue, or if you prefer, Robin's egg blue or Carolina blue.  When cleaned and polished, it was a very pretty car.  It's funny, looking back. I was more dedicated to that car than I was my studies.  Go figure.

The car had a sunroof.  I loved that.  There was a plastic crank that you turned clockwise to open.  When I had it open in the spring, summer, and early fall, which was pretty much every day, it made me think of the old Led Zeppelin song, "Kashmir."  After a nearly minute long intro, Robert Plant would start singing, "O let the sun beat down upon my face..."  Yep, that was me.

One other interesting thing about that car--it didn't have a heater.  Well, not in the conventional since.  Between the two bucket seats were two levers that moved forward and back. That was how you controlled the heat.  It seems the brilliant German engineers had designed a system for the Beetle whereby the car was heated by an air-cooled system that channeled hot air from the engine's exhaust system into the car.   I can't explain it any more than that.  All I know is once I learned how and when to move the levers, it worked.

Let's skip ahead a few years to the fall of 1982.  I am now working for Ozark Airlines in Indianapolis, Indiana.  I was staying with Mike and Nan Bohan, good friends of my parents who used to live in St. Louis.  In fact in my younger days, if anything happened to mom and dad, like dying, Mike and Nan would become my new parents.  But I was staying with them because I knew I was only going to be working in Indy for a month.

At the time I was driving a red 1975 Chevrolet Monza.  I think it was built on a Corvair chassis, which if you know anything about cars, you know is a bad omen.  I had the Bug for two years, then traded it in for the Monza.  A little bigger car, and you didn't need a degree in astro-physics to work the heating system.

When the car ran, it was nice, but it did not want to run all the time. It was time to let it go and look for new wheels.  So I started looking.  A week or so later, still living and working temporarily in Indy, I met a gentleman that the Bohans knew.  He had a 1982 Chevrolet Camaro.  Chevrolet had completely changed the body style that year, and it was sharp.  I was smitten; this was what I wanted.  The next day I went to McIntire Chevrolet in Indianapolis and looked through their inventory of Camaros.  I found one, a dark blue one, with a manual, V6 transmission and with a 2.8L engine.  I had the car picked out, but I needed money.

A couple of days later, on my next day off, I flew from Indy back to St. Louis on the first flight in the morning, or as we would say in the airline business, IND-STL.  Mom picked me up at the airport, and I took her to her office at Ozark.  I drove to the Bank of Overland, the local bank we had used for years, as I wanted to be there when they opened at nine.  Orville Morris was the President of the Bank of Overland.  I knew him. I went to church with him. I felt comfortable sitting in the waiting room of his office while he was in a meeting.

Orville arrived a few minutes later, taking his suit coat off. As I sat in the chair in front of him, he asked what brought me in.  I told him I was buying a new vehicle and wanted to borrow some money from the bank.  He asked what kind of car, and how much I needed.  Amazingly I had done my homework and knew exactly how much I needed.  "$8,000," I somehow said without flinching.  He paused for a few seconds, looking at me, then said, and I swear this is the truth, "Ok, stop back by in an hour or so and I'll have a check for you."  That was it.  No questions about down payment, how much I was making, no loan application, nothing.  It was a lesson in the benefits of having friends in high places.

I flew back to Indy that afternoon and drove straight to the Chevrolet dealership.  They had my new car all ready.  Clean, detailed, and full of gas.  I handed them a check and drove my Camaro off the lot.  I now had my first new car.

A few days later, I left Indy and drove to St. Louis.  It's only a four-hour drive on I-70, about 240 miles.  I shouldn't say this, but I am confident the statute of limitations has expired since it was 43 years ago, and I lived to survive the ordeal.  As I was heading westbound, I was on a particularly straight stretch of the interstate.  Very few cars.  I have no idea what possessed me, but I thought to myself, "might as well see how fast this thing will go."  I was 25 and stupid, so I floored it.  The speedometer began to rise, 80...90...100...110. When I was about to hit 120, I let of the gas and started slowing down, back to 65 or 70.  I had scared myself because I realized I did not have control of the car.  I was pretty much just holding on. I am sure my guardian angel had his eyes closed.  Suffice to say after that brain lapse, I never got over 90 again.

But there they were.  Two pictures.  One of my baby blue VW with my brother and me sitting inside, and one of my new Camaro, glistening in the Missouri sun in front of my parents' house.  Two pictures and a blog-full of memories.  I wish I still had both of those cars.

Be kind to each other this week.  Thanks for your kind words and encouragement.  I see a picture of a first-grade class up ahead....

I Hurt

I'm going to admit right up front.  It's been a pretty crappy last few weeks.  

It seems like everywhere I turn, each week I am being greeted by news that heads straight to the heart, straight to the gut. 

I am sick and tired of hearing about people I am close to having cancer, I am tired of friends having strokes, I have had it up to here with dementia, and I am devastated that people I love are having to leave their homes for assisted living because it is safer and in some cases they just can't take care of themselves the way they want to.

I hurt for the Darwin family.  Last night (Tuesday) I read a post on Facebook by Tara saying the doctors have told her and Steve they have stopped cancer treatments, and they have now begun hospice care at home.

I don't know, maybe that was the straw that broke the camel's back for me.  I cried.  For several minutes. I cried for Steve and his long, valiant fight, and for Tara and the kids.  Tara reminds me so much of my mother, taking care of Steve like my mom took care of my dad when he had cancer 16 years ago.

I hurt for Donnie and Janet Daugherty.   M and I have been in the Shoals for 11 years, and Donnie has been my friend for 10 of them.  We eat breakfast together every week.  We talk about football (his fave), or baseball (my fave), we talk about Janet or M, our kids and grandkids.  We talk about church, and we've talked about things I'll take to the grave without telling a soul.  

Janet had brain surgery two weeks ago to remove a benign tumor the size of your fist from behind her right eye.  About 24 hours later she had a stroke, which, considering the seriousness of the surgery, the doctor said was very possible.  It was touch and go for a couple of days, but Janet survived the stroke.  But she now faces what could be a year of rehab.  It has completely changed their life in more ways than I can describe in this space.

I hurt for my brother-in-law Stan Dauck.  Stan is married to Marilyn's youngest sister, Millie.  Last Tuesday, the first day M and I had started a little getaway in Panama City Beach, we received word that Stan's brother, Johnnie, who lives in northeast Arkansas, was being rushed to the hospital.  He had what was believed to be a UTI and possibly kidney stones, and it appeared sepsis had reared its ugly and often fatal head.  Less than 12 hours later, before they could transport Johnnie from Jonesboro to Little Rock, he died.  He was 66 years old.

I hurt for Joy Winn.  Joy is one of the sweetest, most loving individuals I have ever known in my entire life.  There is no one who is more aptly named than Joy.  I cannot express how much I love and appreciate her.  Joy has beaten cancer once, but now, she is going to have to beat it again.  Her attitude, just like Steve and Tara's, Donnie and Janet's is positive.  I worry about her, but I really shouldn't.  She is ready for whatever God has in store for her.

I hurt for Ann Staggs.  I have mentioned her before.  She and her husband Don are retired and live in the Austin, Texas area.   They lived in St. Louis when we did, and Ann is my mother's dearest friend on the earth.  Don and Ann are both in their mid-80's, and Ann has been using a walker for some time.  But she is not a defeatist; just within the pasr week she walked a mile using  her walker on the treadmill.  But this past Friday, Ann was working out at the gym she and Don use, and she fell face first on the ground.  Fortunately she did not break any facial bones.  She did strain a shoulder, and there are other minor injuries.  Her face looks like she went 12 rounds with Mike Tyson.  She will be heading to rehab this week for an extended stay.

Finally, I hurt for my mother and step-father Tom.  A few days back they made the difficult decision to move out of their condo into a retirement/assisted living facility.  They made the same decision about a month ago, but changed their minds within a couple of days.  But this time they mean it.  They actually hope to move within the next two weeks.  Tom has dementia,  It is manageable for my mother to take care of him most days.  We are grateful Tom is not to the point where he has forgotten everything, but still it can be difficult at times.  Mom has her own health issues as I have discussed in the past.  But now, just a couple of months before they both celebrate their 89th birthdays, they are leaving.

The last couple of days Mom has talked about what she is going to take, what will she leave behind.  Is there anything I want, anything Marilyn wants?  Should she have an estate sale or garage sale, when should they sell the condo?  I listen, try to encourage her, but I am sad.  When I go back to St. Louis for a visit, there will not be a home waiting for me.  Their apartment at the assisted living does not have a stove.  Meals are provided as part of the cost.  No more making cookies or brownies at midnight, no more roasts for Sunday dinner, no more Boston Brown Bread.  No more sitting in the living room surrounded by memories of my life.  It bothers me.

God never planned for us to live forever.  We have all known that most of our lives.  But while we know we won't live forever on this earth, we expect those around us to.  After all, I have a great-aunt who is 102 and still lives by herself.

But then God nudges us, wakes us up, and reminds us that we are indeed mortal.  When things change unexpectedly, when friends or family die, or your mother has to move because she can't be Superwoman anymore, when all of that hits you within a few weeks, it hurts. 

As I cried tonight after reading Tara's post, I looked at M, and I said, "Why?  When is it going to stop?"  I know in my heart it will never stop.  That is not the way God designed things.  His will, his perfect will, will always be done.  Unless the Lord returns first, we are all going to die.   It is ok to grieve and wonder when the bad news will cease and when the heartache will stop.

It is ok to hurt.

Blessings my friends.  See you down the road.  Lord willing.

That's One Small Step for a 14-month-old

Mark Twain once said, "Always tell the truth, that way you don't have to remember anything."

He also said, "never let the facts get in the way of a good story."

Still, on another occasion, he wrote, "the truth has no defense against a fool determined to believe a lie."

Then again, he said, "only children and fools tell the truth."

Finally, Hannibal, Missouri's favorite son said, "there are lies, damned lies, and statistics."

In the famous NBC television drama "Dragnet", at the beginning, the announcer says, "the story you are about to hear is true........"

The subject of today's blog is me.  So, in a sense, it is auto biographical, and as hard as it may be for some of you to believe, it is also true. (I called my mother to have her verify.  She was an eyewitness to these events and confirmed their authenticity, so they must be true.  Also, my mother doesn't lie).

I was born in the spring of 1957 in Webster Parish, Louisiana.  Dad was working for International Paper at the time, and we lived in a small town in Arkansas on the Arkansas-Louisiana border.  A few months later we moved to Monticello, Arkansas, as Dad had decided to enroll at Arkansas A&M (now UA-Monticello).

We were the happy little family in Monticello.  Mom worked in the A&M Student Center while dad attended classes.  At the time, Dad was 22, Mom was 21.

By the following spring, little Dalton (that's me) still wasn't walking.  Still crawling on his belly like a reptile, but no walking.  According to my mother, around my birthday in 1958, I started walking!  Well, sort of.  What I had accomplished was pulling myself up by one of the many chairs in the Student Center and pushing it all around the snack area where Mom worked.

Evidently my pushing chairs around was a popular spectator sport among the A&M students, as according to my mother (I swear I am not making this up), the students would cheer when I would bring a chair to them or get a chair in its spot at a table.  I have been told by the person who contributed 50% of my DNA, the students would reward me by giving me food.  French fries, or popcorn, a bite of toast, just whatever was handy.  Thus started a lifetime of eating between meals.

Still, the folks were somewhat concerned.  I mean, I was a year old, and still not walking by myself.  I was only walking upright when pushing a chair and given food as a reward.   Looking back, you could say I was a pretty well-trained monkey.

That all changed a month or two later.  My Grandpa Sullivan, my dad's dad, lived in Beaumont, Texas, about 350 miles southwest of Monticello.  Once school was out in the spring, mom and dad headed to Texas with their year-old monkey in tow.  Dad had three younger siblings, two half-sisters and a half-brother.  They were all happy to see the next generation of Sullivans come down for a few weeks.

After we had been there a few days, it may have been the weekend, I don't know, calendars didn't mean anything to me back then, the decision was made to head to the beach for a day or sun, surf, sand, siesta and seafood.  Sounds like fun doesn't it.

Little did Mom or Dad know, or Grandpa, or Aunt Rema, Aunt Nina or Uncle Pat, that little Dalton Reese was about to walk on water.  Well, not really, but it was monumental.  Sort of.

As you know from your eighth-grade geography, Beaumont sits in southeast Texas, about 60 miles east-northeast of Houston, and north of Port Arthur, maybe 25 miles inland from the Gulf of Mexico.  The Sullivan family arrived at the beach, and here is where we have the climax of the story.

To refresh, remember I have not walked on my own yet, even though I was 14 months old.  I had only pushed chairs around the Arkansas A&M campus for entertainment.

According to my mother, as we got to where the warm, yea verily, the hot waters of the Gulf were in sight, I did not start to walk, I ran toward the Gulf.  According to Mom, she and Dad looked at each other in disbelief, and one of them said something along the lines of, "that little stinker."  So my first unaided steps were actually running, not walking to the Gulf of Mexico.

Thus began a life-long love affair with the beach and water.  It is my happy place and evidently has been since I was 14 months old.   I should probably add as I type this on this Thursday evening in August 2025, some 67 years after the described events, I am sitting on the fifth floor of a condo at Panama City Beach, Florida.  That very same Gulf of Mexico is in sight.  Well if it were still daylight, it would be, but it is approaching 11 p.m., so it's dark and I can only point in the general direction and tell you the Gulf is "over there."

I turned 68 earlier this year, and I have been hearing this story my whole life.  So it must be true.  At least my mother says it is.

Have a great rest of the week.  Be kind to each other.  See you on the flip-side.

Potpourri - Vol. 2

Hey kids.  Back on the 10th of June I did a blog entitled "Potpourri".  It was a blog of odds and ends that individually were not long enough to make a blog, so like the old Jeopardy category, I just lumped them together.  

Well, on this Saturday night, I am doing the same thing.  Several things are on my mind, and I am putting several of them in this blog, therefore we have "Potpourri - Vol. 2".

Back in the June 10th edition, I mentioned M and I were going to head to San Francisco in early September for Clayton's birthday.  At the time me and M was trying to decide whether to drive or fly.  Well, the readers have spoken!  I heard from about 10 or so of you, and everyone who wrote or texted, without exception, said drive.  Several said something along the lines of "that's a no-brainer."  You know, we agree, so we are driving.  We will leave the last week of August and be gone about three weeks.

I've been working on an itinerary for the past week or so and the trip will be heavy on National Parks.  It is our plan to stop, Lord-willing, at the Painted Desert, Grand Canyon, Zion, maybe Bryce Canyon, Yosemite, Tetons, Yellowstone, the Badlands and the Black Hills.   

Of historical interest, we hope to stop or see Santa Fe, a specific corner in Winslow, Arizona, Three Forks State Park in Montana, where two rivers and a creek come together to form the Missouri River, Little Big Horn, Wall Drug, Mount Rushmore and Fort Dodge, Iowa, where I began my airline career with Ozark Airlines in December 1981.   It's an ambitious itinerary.  Keep us in your prayers.  Also send money.

We have four tomato plants, and they have been doing pretty well, but three of the four have come down with blight in the last couple weeks.  Ugh!  Well, we've had a pretty good crop so far.

Have you ever recommended a restaurant to someone and then when they tell you they are going you kind of hold your breath, hoping they like it.  A week or so ago, John Harris and I were chatting about local eateries, and the subject came around to catfish.   I mentioned Champy's Chicken in Sheffield has, in mine and M's opinion, the best catfish in the Shoals.  John was astounded by my recommendation but said he would give them a try.  After worship this past Wednesday night, John came up to me and said, "I took your advice."  My first thought was "uh-oh, what did I tell him."  Fortunately, he did not make me wait very long.  "I went to Champy's for lunch," he said, "and was going to get some chicken, but I remember you telling me how good the catfish was, so I ordered that instead."  At this point I was seriously holding my breath.  I did remember the previous conversation, so I was really, really hoping he liked it.  "You were right, it was pretty good."  Ok, big sigh of relief, and our conversation shifted to their chicken livers, which are also incredibly good.

As most of you know, M taught school for 38 years at the same district in northeast Arkansas.  In addition to English and Oral Communications, she also taught French I and II.  Since she is no longer using it on an everyday basis like she was when teaching, she says her French is not as good as it was.  There is probably some truth in that, but our daughter-in-law Mimi, who was born in Paris and speaks fluent French, says M's French is pretty good.

I have decided M just has a natural affinity for learning languages.  After traveling to Guatemala last fall to attend the wedding of our nephew to a Guatemalan girl he met while doing medical missions, M has started teaching herself Spanish via Duo Lingo.   I have to admit, I think she is doing pretty well (muy bueno) with it.  I'm impressed.

Our hearts are broken at Sherrod Ave. following the death of Rosemary Snodgrass on Thursday afternoon.  A brilliant woman whose husband Don is one of our Shepherds, she was a brilliant Bible school teacher and counselor.  In the 11 years M and I have been living in the Shoals, I have never heard an unkind word said about her.  Nothing but positive.  But I am going to veer off the Church of Christ track here for a minute and be brutally honest.  

The Church of Christ believes and practices, well most of them anyway, that adult classes that have men attending, must be taught by men.  If it is a woman only class, then a woman may teach.  Frankly, I have trouble with that.   I would have loved to have been in one of Rosemary's classes, I would love to be in one of Marilyn's classes.  I know from what Marilyn has said, what a wonderful Bible student Rosemary was.   I think it would have been great to get some of that wisdom from her.  Men do not have a monopoly on being good teachers.  Ok, that is all I am going to say about that.

We subscribe to Prime, Acorn, BritBox and MLB, and have over the past few years watched a lot of great shows we might never have seen, especially British murder shows.  One we are watching now is a Canadian show that was on for six years, ending about 10-12 years ago.  It's called "Corner Gas".  It is about life in this small town, Dog River, on the Saskatchewan prairie.  The main characters are kind of quirky, and it is hilariously funny.  It's only 20 minutes or so, so you really are not sacrificing too much of your time if it you watch it.  I highly recommend it.  Let me know if you like it, don't tell me if you don't.

I have three pairs of reading glasses.  I keep one by my side of the bed, one in the computer/library room and the third on the table by my recliner.  Anyone else that organized?

Speaking of organized, or crazed, when I eat M&M's, I separate them by color.  The color I eat first usually varies, but I almost always eat the green ones last.  Feel free to diagnose that behavior for me.

Just a week and two days after having a benign tumor removed from her brain, Janet Daugherty was moved to a rehab facility Friday night.  Praise the Lord for answered prayers in her healing.  Let the prayers continue.

That's enough stuff for this Saturday night.  Have a wonderful rest of your weekend.  Be kind to each other.  Au revoir.