Hi Blog fans. I want post a little something to let you know that I haven’t forgotten about you even though it’s been a few days since my last post. I am always encouraged by the nice comments I receive from you. Some have even claimed that I am their favorite blogger. Thanks. Anyway, I hope to be back into the swing of things next week with at least three or four post per week. In the mean time thanks again for your words of encouragement and love.
Till next time,
Grump
It ain’t worth squat but here is what I think about a few things.
…but I know Jesus and I talk to God
and I remember this from when I was young
Faith, Hope and Love are some good things He gave us
and the greatest is Love
Till next time,
Grump
A few months after having my day announced on KSEL radio I had another honor that I had never thought about having. In the fall of 74 I sat in church one evening and listened to a preacher that the Loop congregation was supporting. Larry was his name and he was preaching in Blackfoot, Idaho. I remember him saying how much he would like to have someone from Loop come up and visit sometime. Now I’m thinking to myself, Kent you got nothing to do after the ginning season, why not go up there for a few weeks? On my way out that evening I told Larry that I would be up to visit as soon as the ginning season was over. Earl Owens was standing nearby and said “Kent if you’re serious I’ll pay your way.” Things were now set, I was eighteen years old, freshly out of High School with no real responsibilities, and I had just been offered an expense paid trip to Idaho. Sometime between the fall of 74 and the spring of 75 I was going to have to look at a map and find out where Idaho was!
In March of 75, less than a month after having my day on the radio I was headed to Blackfoot, Idaho. I was about to make some good friends, and I was about to have experiences that I would remember for the rest of my life. My six week trip soon turned into a six month stay. During that time I met Steve and Penny, a young married couple that I still keep in contact with. I met Elna Berry, a lady who took to me as if I were her son, and as it turned out she kind of had plans that I would be her son. She had a daughter a year younger then I, and she had us put together, in her mind, the day she met me.
That was the beginning of my next honor, an honor that would come from that daughter, and her closest friend. They made up a song about me. Hold on now folks, yes it was those two girls who made up and sang the song, not Randy Newman and his song about Short People having no reason to live. Short People didn’t come along until 77, and it was twenty years before Tom T Hall, wrote, and Alan Jackson, sang, Little Bitty so that’s not the song I’m talking about either. My song was Little Blue Frog.
NOW STOP THAT! IHEARD YOU LAUGHING! I THOUGHT THEN, AND STILL THINK NOW, THAT BEING CALLED A LITTLE BLUE FROG IS KINDA SPECIAL!
Tammy and her friend lived in Idaho Falls, and I lived in Blackfoot. As soon as arrived in Blackfoot, Larry’s wife Glenda started saying, “There’s a girl in Idaho Falls that you have to meet.” Well it didn’t take long for that to happen, and when I did meet her, I was decked out to impress. To tell you the truth meeting her had nothing to do with the way I was dressed. I was always a well dressed young man. The day I met these two girls I had on my finest and newest leisure suit. I am so sorry that an entire generation has grown up and started families of their own without the pleasures of leisure suits. This particular leisure suit was powder blue, and I mean it was styling. I wore the suit with a wide white belt, and I had the prettiest pair of white wing tip platform shoes that anyone had ever seen. When I wore those shoes I was on top of the world standing tall at maybe, five foot-six. A man could get nose bleed with a sudden change of elevation like that. So now I know you can easily understand how Tammy and her friend could have been inspired to sing about being in love with a little blue frog.
I gotta tell ya friends, being loved and appreciated is a wonderful experience. Having friends, old or new, who will sing your praises, and give atta-boys, and touch you, and affirm you and maybe even go over the top with their feeling for you is very special. People need people. People need to succeed. People need to be affirmed. People need to be loved.
Till next time,
Grump
Saturday, February 15, 1975 was my day. I remember spending the day at a Turkey Shoot, or Skeet Shoot, if you prefer. The event was held behind the Loop Community Building and served as a fund raiser for some organization, but I don’t remember which. I remember that Dad was the manager of Five Points Gin, and that all of the gin owners showed up. Someone decided that all of the participants who represented the gin could shoot at the gins expense all day long, and I took full advantage of it. I have no idea how many rounds I shot that day. I do know that the event has had a lasting effect on me, but that’s another story for another day.
Today’s story has to do with it being my day on KSEL 950 AM Radio. That’s why I can tell you where I was, and what I was doing that day, because I can remember hearing the DJ that morning say “Kent Smith this is your day on KSEL!” I know, I know, KSEL Radio 950 AM gave away a day everyday, but so what I was still one of three hundred sixty-five people who a day on the radio in 1975. To tell you the truth what made it special was who had sent in my name to the station. That was a wonderful birthday gift, and I will never forget it.
I’ve had a lot of special Birthday’s in my life. I can’t say that I remember the specifics of most of them. I know that growing up my BD evening was most likely spent at Granddad Clark’s house with a fresh freezer of strawberry ice cream being the center of a lot of laughter and love. Since becoming an adult my birthdays have been spent with a very special lady, and through her the days have gotten better and better. Our family birthdays have rarely included gifts. They usually include dinner out somewhere, sometimes just the two of us, other times with the kids. I do have a gift in the drawer of a dresser in the guest bedroom that I will cherish forever, and it didn’t come from a store. This gift is a phone recording and it’s on an answering machine that hasn’t been used in quiet some time.
The recording is of Mary Alice and Major. Major was barely old enough talk, and understanding him was pretty hard, but the message is loud and clear. When the machine picked up the two kids started sing Happy Birthday, and when the song was over they both said “Happy Birthday Grumpy” with Major straggling a few syllables behind Mary Alice before turning the word Grumpy into a four or five syllable mess. That my friend is special.
Today, I’ll get another call from those two, and this time I’ll hear Milla in the back ground saying something only another one year old can understand, and that call will be special. Miranda will call and try to get Ranger to say something on the phone, I may or may not hear a thing from him, but I’ll be able to see and hear him in my minds eye. Miranda will tell me she loves me, I’ll return the words, and I’ll feel warm inside. The phone will ring one more time. This call will be from Josh and he will more or less say the same thing Miranda said, and he will close with the same words of I love you dad. No that’s not exactly right. Here are the exact words that Miranda will say. “I love you Daddy.” Joshua will have a little different phrase, he will say, “Love you Dad.”
You want to know why those words are imbedded in my soul? Because they are the last words I hear from those two at the end of every phone call, or every time we part ways after being together. Monday, February 15, 2010 is my day. I won’t hear it proclaimed on a radio station, that wouldn’t be special enough anyway. I will hear it from a wonderful wife, and all of the children she has blessed me with. This is my day! Thank You God!
Till next time,
Grump
I had breakfast this morning with Richard Beasley. He and Mike Willoughby are teaching a class at church called Passing the Baton. The class is designed to help parents realize their responsibility to their children in terms of spiritual matters. As a way of wrapping up the series Mike and Richard are interviewing grandparents in an effort to show how grandparents play a role in passing on the message of God to their extended family. I want to share with you a few of the points that I made to Richard this morning.
Till next time,
Grump
They say rabbit tastes like chicken. After spending a considerable amount of time (one and three-fifths seconds) I have come to the conclusion that I will have to take their word for it. I can’t recall having ever eaten rabbit. What I can say with full knowledge having tested the subject personally is this; chickens are tougher than rabbits.
Back in seventy-three, my brother-in-law Jimmy and I spent our time together hunting. It was one of the things we had in common, and it was something country boys did to pass the time. Most of our rabbit hunting was done at night. One of us would drive while the other was on the passenger side with a 22 rifle. My old green Ford pickup had a spot light mounted on the drivers’ side which left the man with the 22 free to fire when ready. On this particular occasion however we were hunting in the afternoon. As I was driving west from the old home place we encountered a few chickens pecking around out by the dirt road we were on. I suppose you have guessed what happened next.
Suddenly two normally responsible young men, or old boys if that’s what you want to call us, were completely eat up with a case of the stupids. We shot one of the chickens. We knew better, and that’s why it wasn’t being completely eat up with a case of ignorance. Ignorance is doing something when you don’t know any better; stupid is doing something when you do know better. Wouldn’t you know it? The dumb chicken didn’t just drop over into a “better place” she continued to run. Which called for another shot, and then another. We finally realized we had to get moving. The chicken owner’s house was less than a hundred yards from where the attack was taking place. Friends, I am offering no defense for our actions, we screwed up…royally.
Graften Smith was my granddaddy. I only saw him a handful of times in my life. He was backwoods Alabama. His house had holes in the walls between the planks, and it had no running water. He didn’t even have an outhouse that I can remember, if you needed to go you just went out behind the chicken coop like the livestock did. Graften was a moon-shiner; he ran a still up in the hills. If he is the man who actually ran the shine once it was made I never knew it. If he did, he must have kept his shine running car hidden because I never saw a vehicle that could run more than thirty miles an hour at his place. However, a few years after I had last seen Graften Smith, I was about to find out what it must be like to run shine.
A few days after the great West Texas chicken massacre, Jimmy and I were at it again, only this time it was dark out. Somewhere during our evening of spot lighting rabbits I noticed a set of lights heading our way at a very rapid speed. I pushed the peddle to the medal and tried to get away, but I soon realized that my old six cylinder four speed was not going to out run what must surely be the deceased chicken’s owner. I turned off the headlights and made a run for it. It took us more than an hour to make our escape. I was running sixty and seventy miles an hour on dirt roads using no headlights. I down shifted the four speed in order to make my turns so I didn’t have to use my breaks, and give away our position with the stop lights. I knew I was stirring up a trail of dust but I couldn’t afford to slow down.
We got away. I don’t know if we actually lost him, or if he simply decided that he had made his point, and knew that we wouldn’t be sending any more of his chickens to the great pecking ground in the sky. You know, I really don’t think we got away with it. I honestly believe he knew who I was.
You remember Adam and Eve don’t you? Member how they tried to hide after disobeying God? He knew what they had done then, and He knows what I do now. I can’t run fast enough, or dark enough, or down shift enough to get away from God. So, what I am I to do? The answer is simple. I can’t allow myself to be completely eat up with a case of the stupids.
Till next time,
Grump
It’s not my intent to take my blog page down a political path, but on occasion I may allow myself to drift in that direction. Today is one of those days. I’m not going to be taking on either party or any particular topic today. What I am going to do is pass along a web site that I received yesterday. I believe this man, who is a very dear friend of mine, has some good ideas. I know he has some controversial ideas, and some proposals that will be painful. However, I believe he is on the right track, and I hope his ideas can gain some traction, and attract some attention.
Please visit http://www.oneordinaryman.com/
Don’t let the ordinary man thing fool you, this is not written by me, “Just an Ordinary Man” this is written by a friend who considers himself “one ordinary man.” He doesn’t provide his name one his site. He is not running for office, nor does he have anything to sell. He does however hope to start a movement, or add to a movement that can change the downward direction our country is taking.
Till next time,
Grump
I thought I’d tell the new readers what I’m up too, and remind my old readers just in case I can help them in any way. Wait a minute, I didn’t mean old as in OLD; I meant those of you who have been reading my post for a while. I mean you guys know I’m all about PC, and it ain’t PC to call anybody old. Which bring up a question. If’n we consider forty to sixty to be middle aged, does that mean we aren’t old until we reach a-hunnerd-an-eight?
My passion is professional speaking, preaching, and teaching. That is what I would be doing full time if I could make a living doing it. In fact that is the real reason I write a blog, and why I wrote Everyday Christianity. I need exposure and the blog, and book have done a great job in getting me known. I know what I am about to say is going to sound a little arrogant…. well, ok, a lot arrogant, but I have to say it anyway because I have faith that God gave me the gift of speaking so others can identify with me. I can say with full confidence that I can out preach nine out of ten preachers, and out teach a larger percentage of teachers than that. I am also fully confident that I can present a funny, yet touching, inspirational, or motivational speech that is clean, and meaningful to any business, civic, or professional organization in the country better than ninety percent of the professional speakers out there.
I am a Realtor by profession. I know many of you may have thought I wasn’t with Coldwell Banker anymore, and I can understand why. I have been pushing my speaking so hard that people assume I am no longer in real estate, but I am, and I would love to help you buy or sell a home.
Finally, I know many of you have seen me working at Chick-fil-A, and at two of our local sports arenas. I am thankful that God has opened the door for me in these areas. There are a lot of folks struggling to make ends meet in the current economy, and these venues have been a God send to me. There again is one of the reasons you may have assumed that I am no longer a Realtor. Well to be honest, I knew that being seen in part time jobs would hurt me as a Realtor. People want a full time Realtor. Rest assured, my first priority is to my real estate clients, and the folks I work for in my part time jobs know that.
So, if you need, or know anyone who needs a professional speaker, or guest preacher/teacher, I am your man. I am so confident in my ability to deliver that I will guarantee my services to you. If you are not completely satisfied with me, or my presentation, I will gladly refund my fee. If you need a Realtor who will listen to you and represent you, I am ready to assist you. However, if all you need is for me to refill your drink, or clean up your mess, I can do that too. I will say one more thing with full confidence, I am better at taking care of you at the Chick, or at the sports venues I work at than…oh…let’s say four and a half percent of the wait staff in the entire country. lol
Till next time,
Grump
This is the story I’d intended to tell last week when I ended up telling you “Bad Weather Days.”
For a spur of the moment idea it seemed like a good one. We figured we could pull it off, we expected he would take it well, and we expected to have some long term fun after we had done it. We were standing around the concessions area out in front of the high school gym during our lunch break. The weather outside was cold and windy, and the ground was covered with snow. If I remember correctly there were four of us involved, and even though Chung and I were rather small we still figured we could get it done. I’m sure our fearless leader Czech is the one who came up with the grand idea, but I admit that the rest of us didn’t have to have our arm’s twisted.
We casually started to circle our prey, respectfully engaging him in small talk. I don’t think he was on to us, because we talked to him all the time. He was our Ag Teacher, Mr. Scott, and having come straight from graduating A&M to become our teacher he wasn’t much older than we were. Suddenly someone made the first move and the rest of us followed. Czech, Chung, Troglodyte, and I all attacked our unsuspecting teacher grabbing him in an effort to take him outside and roll him in the snow. Best I recall the surprise attack only surprised him for split second, then in the blink of an eye we were all four lifted off the ground, carried almost effortlessly, out the door and roughly deposited into a snow drift. I don’t think Mr. Scott even came close to being rolled in the snow, but the four of us were covered.
In the end we were jeered, he was cheered, and just about the entire Loop High student body (maybe fifty-three kids) was standing outside in the snow laughing like there was no tomorrow. Yup, we had done bit off more than we could chew. I don’t remember if the others had any lasting reminders of the event, but I wore my reminder for a couple of weeks. Somewhere between being swept up, and then deposited in a heap, my cheek met someone’s jeans covered knee, and I ended up with a nice strawberry. I don’t know whether it was a badge of courage or a sign of stupidity, but it was bright red, and almost bleed.
This past September I went back home for the LHS Homecoming Game. It was the first time I had been back in maybe twenty years. I ended up visiting with Mr. Scott, I call him Calvin now that we are both granddads. During our visit he pokes his twenty something year old son and says, “Smith and some of his cohorts thought they were going to roll me in the snow one day. Didn’t ya Smith?” Member I told you at the start of this story that we expected to have some long term fun? Well we did, it just wasn’t fun at his expense, it was fun at our expense.
Those were the days. I wish students and teachers could still have that kind of relationship. It wasn’t a matter of disrespect for us to try to roll our Ag teacher in the snow; it was a matter of respect and admiration. We knew the limits. We knew when to learn, and when to have fun. It was a different time, and I’m not saying it was a better time, but I do know this. Kids were taught to respect their elders, and respect authority. We were taught to say Yes Sir, and No Sir. We were taught to say please, thank you, and you’re welcome. We were raised with a sense of responsibility. I expect the parking lot had at least ten pickups in it that had loaded rifles, and twelve gage shotguns mounted on a rack in the cab, and those pickups were even unlocked.
We had a sexy young teacher no more than six years older than us. By we, I mean the entire class was made up of high school boys, yet she never had to worry about her safety. Our parents loved us enough to allow discipline at school. If we failed a test, or didn’t complete an assignment our parents were not laying the blame on the teachers, they were on us. Teachers and parents were not adversaries, they were team mates. Oops, sorry, I’ll stop for now, I just heard Edith Bunker singing “Those were the days.”
Till next time,
Grump
Three weeks ago Mark challenged the congregation to invite someone to Sunday dinner. He talked about remembering Sunday dinner as he grew up, and how it used to be a common occurrence that people had people into their homes for food and fellowship after church on Sunday. He set a plan in motion, and even offered up this mechanism for a successful two Sunday “have someone over for dinner” event. The first week those families with last names starting with the letter A thru Kla were to invite families whose last names started with Kle thru Z, followed the next week with the later group doing the inviting. One final caveat was added; you had to invite someone you didn’t already have a relationship with. The point was for us to expand our circle of friends.
As we drove away from the building that first Sunday I asked Paula if she thought we would get an invite to dinner the next week. “I guess we’ll have to wait and see.” She said. Thankfully we didn’t have to wait long; we received a call on Monday evening from Lee and Robin Henry. They invited to their place for Sunday lunch the next week. The Henry’s have been worshiping with us for a little over a year, and I had spoken to them on a number of occasions, but I didn’t really know them. Well, as a result of Mark’s challenge to the congregation Paula and I know them better now. Here are a few things I can tell you about the Henrys. Robin is a good cook. She had prepared ham, and the fixing’s, and she also took my need to avoid gluten into consideration and made gluten free dinner rolls, and desert. (By the way, I didn’t tell them about my problem, they remembered it from my having mentioned during a class sometime in the past.) Next is their dedication to meet and worship with the McDermott Road congregation. They live forty-five minutes from the building, yet they attend every time the doors are open. In other words, it takes a good chunk of their day just to get to and from worship, and that serves as inspiration for me. In short, Paula and I were truly blessed by the opportunity to get to know them better.
Now it was our turn to be the host. I looked through the online membership directory, and chose two couples to invite over for yesterday’s dinner after worship. We invited Scott and Elaine Butler, and Charlie and Shirley Fitzgerald to our home for a pot roast dinner. The Fitzgerald’s are the newer couple to the congregation of the two. We had ended up sharing a table with them one Sunday a year or so ago when we happened to get to the same restaurant for dinner at the same time. That had been a nice day, and we looked forward to getting to know them better. Unfortunately, Shirley wasn’t able to make it to worship yesterday, but Charlie did, and he joined us for lunch as what he called “the fifth wheel.” I like the fact that he felt comfortable enough to come by for lunch and a visit without his better half being there. I know I might have bowed out of the event without Paula’s protection.
The Butler’s have been at McDermott Road for several years, and we have had a few nice conversations over the years, but we had never connected on a personal friendship level. I always felt that we could be good friends if the opportunity presented its self. The thing is we have been empty nesters for a long time and they still had kids at home until this year. Now that they have joined the couple’s only league it just seemed right that we should hook up with them. Sure enough we had a great time visiting them, and learning about their lives. I think what we started yesterday with the Fitzgerald’s and Butler’s and the connection we made last week with the Henry’s will grow into closer relationships. Thanks for the encouragement for us to step out Mark.
I want to finish up by saying that I hope Paula and I will not have to be prompted by Mark to keep doing this kind of thing. It was nice to go to someone’s home for lunch, and to have folks over for food and friendship. I don’t know how many couple’s from McDermott Road participated in the two weeks, but I hope it was a lot. And, I want to encourage you to invite someone to your home in the near future, someone you don’t already know well. I think you will be blessed by the experience.
Till next time,
Grump