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The Fact is…

We don’t have to look any further than Facebook to find someone passing judgement on someone else. I know; I’m as guilty as anyone, but I’m working on it. The thing I always wonder: Do we know all the facts? Most of the time, the answer to that question is, “No, we don’t.” We look at what we hear, and/or read, and without giving another thought to the accuracy of the report, we outwardly and often vehemently condemn people. A couple of sayings come to mind: Judge not, lest you be judged. If you don’t have anything good to say, don’t say anything.

A person will reap what they sow, and most times, we/they don’t need any help with the plowing. The thing is, we do need help with the growing. We are all a result of the how we are treated by others, and we grow best when we are loved and nurtured, even though at times it seems we’re not worth the fertilizer. Let’s give each other some room to grow.

Patience quote

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Get it Together!

Ducks In A Row

ducks

Get your ducks in a row, the boss yelled

You best get your stuff in one sack

Get your act together, he screamed

Or tomorrow we won’t need you back

 

Well, I had no idea what he meant

So I started to pace and fret

I don’t own any ducks, I thought

My predicament caused me to sweat

 

Noon came around and away I flew

Drove fast to the nearest mall

Purchased a book of duck tricks

And a quite expensive duck call

 

Raced out of town to the lake

Used the duck call that cost twenty bucks

Was worth it, for out of the reeds

Came a waddling, six little ducks

 

I’m quacking up, I thought to myself

For there wasn’t another soul there

I got out the book of duck tricks

And a duck act I began to prepare

 

I tried everything in the trick book

But them ducks seemed none too bright

Then the answer came suddenly to me

Above my head shone a bulb of light

 

5_Little_Ducks_Logo__12339.1439298427.328.245Drove back to the office post haste

The monkey was near off my back

Told the boss, they’re not in a row, but

Would you settle for five ducks in a sack

 

Copyright © 1998 C. Mashburn

Pictures borrowed from Google Images

 

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Fishing All Day

Dale Hansen2Some of us are getting to that age where the list of friends and loved ones that have passed on is growing longer much faster than we’d like. One of my pals on my list, Dale Hansen, has been on my mind lately. I ran into his sister at a recent high school reunion, then came across a post about him this morning. In 2011, he’d read one of my Daily Encouragements and commented the following:

i believe in the big guy as much or more than most ! But where is heaven , do we get to see our mothers fathers, etc. u know all the ones that already have left us ???? Is the next world on a different planet ? What are the memories of the world we r on now after wee have passed on ???? Wow pretty heavy stuff hu ???

J M D H

My reply was lengthy, and if you want, you can read the rest of it by clicking here à Where is Heaven? Unfortunately, I lost the picture of Dale with the big fish, but my reply to him can be summed up by the last few lines, which were as follows:

Here’s somethin’: Heaven–I think–is gonna be a lot like catchin’ that big fish you sent me a picture of. There might not be any actual fishin’ goin on up there, (then again, there might) but every minute of every day you’re gonna feel like you did when you caught that big ol’ bass!

Later, my man!

Charlie 

 

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Please Help If You Can

ear tuck quote 2“They” give it a name—preferably, one that has a cool sounding acronym—and, BAM (Bowel Associated Madness), it’s a disease and they have a pill and/or treatment for it. Both–pill and treatment–are usually quite expensive, but, hey, you’ve got health insurance, right? If you don’t have health insurance, the IRS (most hated acronym ever) would like to talk to you.

I saw one—a disease I’d never heard of—this morning, and decided to announce one of my own: AHS. And, I am sad to inform you, my dear wife is showing symptoms (too many to list) and is obviously suffering (I do NOT use that word lightly) from Annoying Husband Syndrome.

I’ll be setting up one of those donation site thingy’s (DSTs) later today. Please… help if you can.

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First Kiss

a first kissOne of my favorite childhood games was spin the bottle. I was petrified every time we played it, but I still loved it! I’m not sure my first kiss was from Lisa, but it’s the memory of that spinning bottle, and the fear coursing through my young brain and body this little ditty is about. The names, the faces, the places… pick your own, and go back when. That’s what I did. Enjoy!

Forever Changed

Bottle spinning, is but a blur

There on the basement floor

All eyes upon it as it slows

Not knowing what’s in store

 

Was Lisa who set it to spinning

Young goddess with golden hair

Every boy prays, let it stop on me

So a kiss with her I might share

 

Slower still the pop bottle spins

A last taunting turn then points

My eyes grow wide, I can’t move

Fear has frozen my young joints

 

Panic takes over my mind then

I’m horrified down to my core

Why am I here, what will I do

I’ve never kissed a girl before

 

From the circle I jump and shout

No way, I just can’t do it

Lisa gives a wink that says

Calm down, boy, I’ll get you through it

 

Young lips meet mine a trembling

My life then forever is changed

Fate’s hand upon the bottle spun

My world at once rearranged

 

Copyright © 1998 C. Mashburn

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Redneck Economics

There is a group of folks—varied in degrees, I might add—who are commonly known as rednecks. I am among said group, but consider myself to be far to one side of the scale, and at times unrecognizable as one of the members.

One particular facet of the group—mostly men, but I’ve come across a few ladies who fit the bill—believe it is only necessary to work when they run out of money. Typically, they have very few bills—utilities and a cell phone are the most common—and as a general rule they are two to three months behind on the monthly installments for those basic necessities. Another basic to the lifestyle is an older car or pickup—paid for—which is usually uninsured and often broke-down.

The following is a perfect illustration:

redneck-golfer-9688051On one of the many Saturdays my buddy Jaybird and I played golf while I lived in Spicewood Beach, we were accompanied by several of the local rednecks that subscribe to the theory of redneck economics. Jaybird, by the way, is one of the hardest working guys I know. I jokingly called him a slacker one day, and he still holds me in contempt for the remark. Every now and then—out of the blue—he’ll look at me with fire in his eyes and say, “Slacker, huh?”

One of the guys among the seven or eight in our “foursome” was a long-haired fellow in his late forties. Our little golf course was never crowded, so the group could sometimes be more than the prescribed four that applies on a “real” golf course. We had a hard-and-fast rule though: No more than eight to a foursome.

This guy was the epitome of the sub-group I speak of, and while we were standing in one of the fairways, waiting our turn to hit, he sighed and said, “Jaybird, looks like I’m gonna have to git back to work.” It was common knowledge he hadn’t worked for a month or so.

Jaybird sarcastically replied, “Sorry to hear that, bub. How come you have to go back to work?”

The guy turned his head slowly, stared at Jaybird with one eye closed and the other one narrowed to a slit. The expression on his face was one that imparted the idea, he didn’t know if he should fight Jaybird, or leave him alone because he was just plain stupid. Finally, the suspense at a riveting pitch, he spit on the ground then looked back at Jaybird and said—he said this as if he were talking to someone who couldn’t understand English, or the basic principles of life in general–“I’m out of freakin’, money, dumb-ass!”

I cannot explain “redneck economics” any better than that.

 

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Family Reunion

boy and watermelonWe’re in north central Alabama this morning to attend a Henderson family reunion. My paternal grandmother was a Henderson, and I vaguely remember attending the reunion when I was six or seven years old. The main reason I remember it is we stopped somewhere on our way from Texas and bought a huge watermelon. Dad said it weighed fifty pounds, but he was always pulling my leg, so… who knows? He put it on the floor right in front of me—I loved watermelon—and I rode the rest of the way with my feet on the gigantic melon and a grin just as big on my skinny little face.

I wonder if folks will remember me if I walk in carrying a fifty pound watermelon? Well… the fact is, I’m not a skinny little boy anymore, and they might think I have a fifty pound watermelon under my shirt!

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