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George Wallace Remembered

I am from the South: Tennessee, Kentucky, North Carolina. Perhaps Maryland, where I now live, is not usually counted as southern, but people here still comment on my southern accent. When I travel down home I do notice the accents there, and I find that instinctively I can revert back and talk just like the local folks. This is handy for blending in.

I was down in North Carolina recently and went out for dinner to a popular local restaurant. Very local. Great food and great prices, but nothing fancy like cloth on the tables or someone taking your order and bringing you your food. You get in line, study the menu on the back wall, and place your order at the counter. You pay right there. wait on your tray of food, and take it to the table of your choice. After you finish you clean up after yourself.

A large group was cleaning up after itself and leaving as I got my food. They had on red tee shirts identifying themselves as “Tea Party Patriots.” They carried political signs and paraphenalia from their meeting. They seemed happy and enthused. It was the evening of a presidential debate, and I thought they might have been heading out to gather somewhere else and watch the debate together.

Having never been to a Tea Party party, I listened in on what conversations I could as I paid for my tray and sat down at my table. Close by my table near the door, the owner of the restaurant was shaking hands with two members who appeared to be leaders. The owner did not have on a red tee shirt, but he was clearly a supporter. I knew this for sure when I heard him say the following:

“You know, if we just had George Wallace, none of this would have happened.”

He did not elaborate on what he meant by “this,” nor did he need to.

As a southener, I knew exactly what he meant. His listeners nodded in agreement. Then one of them confided that although he certainly planned to vote for Romney, he wasn’t sure things would be any different. I thought to myself that he had good reason to be unsure. The Romney of late is far removed from the one who participated in the 20 primary debates and cast himself as the most conservative choice in the race. The Tea Party man was right to wonder which candidate he would be putting into office. …

Commentary People Religion

Planned Parenthood

When I was a young man and newly married, also being at the same time a poor college student, I did not want or need the burden of another child to raise. Our first had arrived just eleven months after the wedding. I did, however, want to have sex with my wife. The answer, of course, was contraception, and the most obvious solution was “rubbers,” as we called them then.  …

People Stories

Bygone Shame

Our current news focus on the Penn State athletic department has likely caused a lot of people to reflect on bygone shame. I am one of those who has. The following is a personal experience I have never written about. Moreover I have not spoken about it with any parent, relative, spouse, or friend. So why am I about to tell of it now, and publish it on the Internet with my actual name? I do not know. And as i begin to write, I wonder if I may change my mind and keep it as a private account. Time will tell. …

People Stories

Saint Peter’s Room

He had served in the U.S. Navy in World War Two. His ship had been in battle, with many killed and injured. He was among the injured. He wasn’t killed, but they thought he would be dead soon. They must care for the ones who had a chance. Unconscious, they rolled him into a room that was out of the way. The men of the ship had a name for this room.  It was “Saint Peter’s Room.” My friend told afterward that he kidded the medics for putting him in Saint Peter’s Room when he didn’t need to be there. He recovered from his wounds and lived a long life afterward. …

Advice People

Advice For A Young Man

I was asked for advice by a young man. He did not specify what kind. He may have had in mind his career, or his health, or relationships, or politics, or religion, or any other subject. Not knowing, I took it as open ended and that he was interested in any lessons learned or words of wisdom I might wish to have heard and heeded when I was his age. 

People Stories

Those Were the Days

The scene is still there in memory from 1959. I can play it, pause it, rewind it, replay it. Everything except erase it.

The store keeper's teenage daughter was at their home next door. The country store was downstairs and the family lived upstairs above it. She was out in the back yard beside a dirt pile the size of a small truck. She with a heavy digging maddock and swinging furiously, desperately at this pile. A rather pretty girl who had "gotten herself" pregnant with a high school boy. Neither of them had wanted this, nor had his parents or hers, nor had their churches, or this small farming community. Nor had I, their young college student part-time pastor.

Commentary People Stories

Pick On Someone Your Own Size

People have body language and so do cars. When you ride a bicycle, as I do, you notice the body language of cars. I noticed one yesterday. I was holding up his progress, and I could tell he was restless back behind me. As soon as it was clear up ahead, his engine roared and tires screeched and he was off to beat me up the road and show me who was boss. Although he had 200 or more horsepower and I am not as strong as even one horse. But this guy acts like it's something great that he can outrun a bicycle.

Nature People

When Bears Fight

When bears fight, they usually keep on until there is a winner and a loser. If you are a human being watching, it is sometimes hard to tell who is ahead. Bear fighting is similar to wrestling, and most of us don't understand the point system. The bears do. The loser knows he is loosing, and the winner knows he is winning. And when the winner wins, he declares it in a very strange way. He turns his back to the loser bear and calmly walks away from the field of battle. To us, this can look like he was the defeated bear and is admitting it by retreating. Actually it is a show of strength and quiet confidence.

Commentary People Stories

A Grown Man Crying

Today I drove again on Sligo Creek Parkway and past its intersection with Wayne Avenue in Silver Spring, Maryland. I remembered again being halted here by a minor accident. I remember it vividly, because standing beside the bent fender of his new car was a grown man crying. He was crying as in wiping tears from his wet face. He was middle aged and dressed well, wearing glasses, and Asian in appearance. I was touched by this sight, and remember it every time I pass this spot. This has gone on for over 25 years.

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