I know people who work all the time. For them, it’s a source of pride.
I’m not one of those people.
The kind who takes pride in it, anyway.
Two weekends ago I found myself collapsed in a reclining chair, depleted. There is no other word.
No energy in any limb, barely able to think, and honestly on the verge of tears. In the preceding weeks and days leading up to that weekend, I’d spread myself so thin, tried to complete so many things, there was just nothing left. Zero. It happens several times a year, and I’m working to fix it.
Have you heard the news?
You know all the great names. Tyson, Truett Cathy, Colonel Sanders. The three may be the Great Triumvirate of the chicken business.
I’m thinking the name Watkins would look good among them. That’s right. We’re getting in the chicken business in Round Bottom Valley.
Religion is a slippery slope.
I’m going to write about it, anyway.
We’re becoming close enough friends now, you and I, that we can discuss these things in a civil manner, and still walk away friends.
If ever there was a warning sign pointing to the breakdown of an idea the New Testament gospels say is vitally important to a life of faith, this is it. The birthplace of community is dwindling in numbers across the Christian landscape.
It’s the Church.
It’s not the homecoming he planned, but the circumstances surrounding his return give Richard McCasland a point of view he’d never much considered about his hometown.
The former Mountain View …
In 1963, someone decided it would be a dandy idea launching a down-home festival.
They were right.