For some time now I've preached about the evil side of the internet and how people can be taken in by ruses or outright hoaxes. Human nature leads us to more or less believe what we see in print. If the internet says it's true, anyone can be fooled, especially those who lack the common sense which comes with life experience to recognize balderdash when they see it. And all too often these days, many people are just too busy to research a fantastic claim made on the internet in order to verify its validity.
As the 20th century closed I was still toiling as a middle school social studies teacher. I recall archaeologists, in 1999, unearthing pottery shards in a remote area of Pakistan. Primitive writings evident thereupon were carbon-dated to approximately 5500 B.C., and linguists subsequently determined the etchings originated within the extinct Indus civilization.
Remember the nursery rhyme of three blind mice? The children's fable of three little pigs? Perchance, might you recall "The Three Stooges?" If not, evidence suggests that all of them now serve as elected officials.
Once upon a time, way back in 1969, this tender, sheltered kid from a really small town went off to school, landing in Statesboro. That's where Georgia Southern College, a tiny camp of some 6,000 students, was located. And that was it. There wasn't even a McDonald's! Fast food was an emporium on Fair Road called Burger Chef. No kidding.
Unfortunately, my children never experienced a real, live traveling tent revival. When the subject came up recently, they even professed ignorance of the subject. Seizing the moment, I explained how traveling evangelists would appear on the outskirts of small towns back in the 1950's and 1960's and set up what appeared to be a circus big top - in actuality a surplus Army tent. For a week or so the evangelists would hold nightly services. The sermon was always a fire-and-brimstone call for sinners to repent, eschew worldly ways, accept salvation in Jesus Christ and to give a few ...
I'm pretty much just an ordinary guy who along the way has had some extraordinary experiences. I'm so grateful, for these episodes have allowed me to join in convivial and fairly knowledgeable conversation with folks from far-flung places, plus some who were involved in rather unique activities. And, of course, they've given me a broader perspective on life in general.
But, hey, that's just my lifelong fascination with social studies doing the talking.
Tunica, MS - My wildest dreams of traveling the world to exotic locales never included Tunica, Miss. But my wife, along with her mother and aunt, accepted a free week's trip to a resort, airfare included.
Gripped in the heat of a typical Georgia summer, Father's Day nevertheless allows us to honor those most hallowed in our patriarchal society - our fathers. Yes, America's still a man's world. Women's advocates and bleeding heart liberals can protest all they want. But when push comes to shove, America wants John Wayne in the foxhole - and in the White House!
Once upon a time, from 1980-88, a man I regard as one of the four greatest to serve as President of The United States of America inhabited the White House. Ronald Wilson Reagan, former actor, figuratively rode into Washington, D.C. on a white horse right out of his old Western movies and led America back from the brink of economic oblivion, skyrocketing inflation, staggering unemployment and Jimmy Carter's attempt to downsize our Navy to under 200 ships.
Whenever June 6 falls on a Sunday, my column subject will most likely be that longest of days in 1944 when Allied forces assaulted Nazi Germany's "Fortress Europe." Operation Overlord, history's largest naval invasion, still staggers the mind when considering logistics, alone.
A couple of months ago a guy named Roger Nixon dropped by the house. My wife's dog let me know an unfamiliar pickup was in the driveway, so I ambled out to see who it was. Roger was taken aback, as the balding, fat guy holding the coffee cup in no way resembled the man he'd come to see.
My little boy is getting married. That, in and of itself, ought not to startle me. After all, he's 25 years old. By the time I was that age Louise and I had celebrated our fourth anniversary. But it gets me, I suppose, since Davis is the last of three babies God allowed us to raise here in this special place they'll always remember as "home."