It’s 9am on a Saturday morning and you’re in your kitchen, sipping coffee and trying to wake up and sober up from a crazy night of drunken naked twister with your neighbors Jim and Linda when suddenly you look out the window and you can’t believe your eyes. There’s 50 individuals dressed in full camouflage and carrying guns walking down your street.
WTH! OH NO… IT’S ARMAGEDDON! I MISSED THE RAPTURE! PUTIN IS ATTACKING!
Wait… hold up for a second, relax. Don’t freak out just yet.
Is it maybe possible that you and your vintage Volvo station wagon with the Flux Capacitor just somehow traveled back in time to my neighborhood in 1988?
If this is the case, then don’t worry. It’s not Putin.
It’s just me and my friends, and they’re just BB guns. We left our real ones at home today. Maybe tomorrow.
We are on our way to the woods behind your house to play war and shoot at each other.
It’s ok don’t worry. You’re safe, and we’ll try not to shoot your windows or each other’s eyes out. But I can’t promise ya.
Let the real Hunger Games begin. 😎
Ok… enough with the time travel. Let me really take you back to 1988.
Often on the weekends, all the guys in my neighborhood would get together in the woods and play war or capture the flag. Usually we would have around 10 people on a team and there was normally like 40 or more of us.
Everyone had BB guns. And many were high-powered pump rifles.
We had a 3-pump rule and no shooting in the face or manhood.
But those rules weren’t always followed. Luckily though, no one ever lost an eye, but many got wounded and ended up digging BB’s and pellet shrapnel out from under their skin.
And I’m willing to bet that still today some guys have trouble going through the metal detectors at airports. lol
Seriously though, it was no joke man. It was intense. Fight or flight. All-out survival. People were trying to literally freaking hurt you… shoot you and make you bleed. You had to play smart. Lol
I have a lot of stories about my life still left to write, so I’m taking a break from my weekly Hidden Gems From The B-Side posts and the Friday Hank Jr. posts I’ve been doing.
At some point I’ll return to them. Eventually, I think I’ll move on from Hank Jr. and maybe do Bob Dylan next. And maybe in the future I’ll do some more of the Shakespeare & Me & Guest ones too.
Right now, though, I want to get some of my life stories written down so I’ll have them for my memoir down the road.
Oh, also… I have some of my song recordings from the bathroom that I would consider bloopers or just funny moments, and I plan on doing a special limited edition post. A lot of these were recorded before I ever decided to post them here. Most of them were just ones I did and sent to different friends and stuff in texts, just goofing off, trying to be funny, or just making funny mistakes while practicing or experimenting.
And to give you an idea of the atmosphere of how I record, I go into my little small bathroom and shut the door behind me. I either sit on the toilet or on a little stool that I have. I open my audio app, then sit my phone down on a roll of toilet paper on a small shelf above the toilet. Then I grab my guitar, press record, sit down, and whatever happens happens.
But I’ll be sharing these.
I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you and your support, also. I’m honored to be here on WordPress with you, and I love reading your blog. It helps me.
What’s the bravest thing you’ve ever done when no one was watching?
I’m not sure this is the bravest thing. I have some better ones I could write about but this just came to mind, a memory I had almost forgotten.
When I was young, growing up in Georgia, there was a beautiful 10 acre lake way back up in the woods behind my house. My birthday is in September, so I believe I was 13 at the time, about to turn 14.
Anyways, the lake was full of big bass and huge bluegill. Me and my friends spent many a day fishing it and sometimes swimming, but we had to be careful because it had its share of venomous water moccasin snakes, aka the Cottonmouth. I mentioned these in my earlier post on snakes, but if you got bit, there was no one around to help you and no way to call 911.
So one hot and humid summer day I borrowed my neighbor’s 12 foot aluminum jon boat. It was just what you call a blank hull. It had no motor or extras or seats except for bench type seating made into the body. It was as plain Jane as they come. It was also fairly lightweight as boats go and it had a long rope tied to the bow of it.
My friends and I would get 2 or sometimes 3 of us to a side and tote it with our fishing gear laid inside it, then walk the 45 minutes through the woods on the trails to get to the lake, stopping occasionally to rest.
So yeah, that particular day we made it to the lake, we put the boat in the water, paddled out and started fishing.
We didn’t care about life jackets in them days. They were for lil kids. We were grown ass men. Might as well have arm floaties on 😎😁
I remember the fish not biting that day, probably because it was so hot. After a while my friends got tired of fishing and began to joke around, goof off, act like dummies and started rocking the boat. Long story short, the boat filled with water then flipped and went under, so we all grabbed what we could and swam to shore. And we weren’t like panicked or anything, we were cool. It was no big deal. I had my rod and reel and my tacklebox in hand and still managed to make it, at times swimming on my back.
I remember I was pissed though because I had borrowed the boat and I was responsible for it. They didn’t really give a shit. They all ended up going home, but I stayed because another friend from a neighborhood on the other side of the woods was supposed to meet me there later that afternoon. Of course, we didn’t have cell phones back then, so I had no way of contacting him. I decided to hang out and wait.
I started back fishing from shore. As I looked out across the water, I noticed something. It looked like the very top tip of the boat was sticking out of the water. Then I realized it hadn’t sunk all the way.
I was so happy to see this and that it wasn’t at the bottom. I knew that long rope was still attached to it, so I thought if I could get to that, then maybe there was a chance to save it and pull the boat in.
I figured maybe it was somewhat buoyant being just a lightweight empty hull. Also, possibly it had some air or something trapped in it. I don’t know.
So I took my shoes and shirt off and got in the water and swam to the boat. It was a good ways out, probably 40 or 50 yards.
Did I mention I’m a great swimmer? Not to brag or anything but it is what it is for this story. 😁
Oh and also, there was absolutely no one around to save me if I got in trouble.
But I had to try. I didn’t want to have to look my neighbor in the eye later and tell him what happened.
So I made it to the exposed part of the bow and grabbed on and kind of rested for a spell. I was also able to tell that the boat was at a good angle and just sitting there about 4 feet under the water at the stern.
After I chilled for a few and regained some strength, I found the rope and pulled on the boat some and it began to move.
Ok I got this… here we go. Get ready, let’s give it a go and see what happens.
So I started swimming like a human tugboat. It was tough and it remained partially submerged, but I made it back to shore… with the boat, mind you. I was exhausted but never for a moment did I feel like I was in danger of going under. But if that boat went under, then my ass would really be in danger.
It was a great way to end a day of fishing.
Hey deddy… guess what? I caught a 12 footer today! You should have seen it!
And what can I say? Not too bad for a 13 year old Gen X kid, alone by himself in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a lake with a half sunken neighbor’s boat. 🤷♂️
I share some of my blog posts on my other platforms and with people I’m connected to in ministry. I’ve had quite a few people ask me about what happened to me with the crossroads thing, so I decided to share the story in an audio recording.
I also added 2 songs I just recorded, “Will the Circle Be Unbroken” and “Love Song.” I hope yall enjoy them, and thank you for your continued support.
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My Crossroads StoryWill The Circle Be Unbroken Love Song
If you could relive one day from your past, which day would it be and why?
I don’t even have to think about it. I never would have gone down to the crossroads.
Let me tell you this. It’s not some old, crazy myth or legend, although it sounds like one. It’s the straight-up truth, and for the past 20 years, my life has been the stuff of movies because of that one unforgettable, unbelievably stupid thing I did.
It’s also the main reason I blog today. I wanted a place to gather the stories from my life, so that in a few years, when I’m ready to write my memoir, it will be easier to paint the picture.
Oh, how I wish I could go back to that night. I would have kept my mouth shut and just gone to sleep.
The other night my girlfriend and I were having a conversation about old sayings that have been around for hundreds of years or so, and it made me think of one that I actually use.
“Red touch yellow, kill a fellow. Red touch black, friend of Jack.”
This is an adage that some in the U.S. use, especially in Florida. It’s one way you can tell the difference between a harmless Scarlet King Snake and America’s cobra, the deadly Coral Snake.
I’ve always loved snakes. Growing up as an outdoorsy kid in Georgia and living in Florida for many years, I’ve had many encounters, mainly because I went looking for them lol.
As a boy and young teen, my friends and I would spend countless hours in the woods looking for snakes. If anyone in my neighborhood had a snake issue, they would call me. Venomous or not, it didn’t matter. I would take care of it.
I’ve been bitten many times by harmless ones, and I’ve had some close calls handling dangerous ones. One memory I can still see clear as day in my mind.
I was around 10 years old. My friends and I had been back in the woods fishing this particular creek, and there was like a little swampy area with a trickle of a waterfall about 10 feet high. So I started climbing up it.
There was this one small ledge. As I pulled my head up over it, I came face to face with one of the largest Water Moccasins I’ve ever seen, aka the Cottonmouth. Its head was about the size of a tennis ball, and it was all coiled up, just inches from my nose.
We were staring at each other there for a second, both of us surprised. Lucky for me, it was just relaxing and sunning itself.
I slowly lowered myself back below the ledge, and that was it. End of story.
Later in the evening, after talking with my girlfriend, I still had snakes on my mind, so I decided to go on Wikipedia and read about all the documented snakebite deaths in American history. It was just fascinating.
So many people were bitten while in church and later died. How effin crazy is that? Snakes in church is a whole nother subject for another time.
One story was especially sad. The pastor of this one church was letting his young pregnant wife handle a rattlesnake, I believe it was, and she was bitten. Both she and the baby died, and he had charges brought against him.
Another story was from the 1970s. A woman in Florida was driving one evening and had to pee, so she pulled over on the side of the road and went behind some bushes. She didn’t even know she had been bitten. She thought it was a thorn bush that poked her in the butt.
She was dead the next morning.
It wasn’t a thorn. It was rattlesnake fangs.
Many of the stories are interesting. I’ll post the Wikipedia link below in case anyone wants to check it out.
So let’s get back to the Coral Snake. It’s different from America’s other deadly snakes. Its venom is a neurotoxin, which means it targets the nervous system instead of destroying tissue. There may not be much pain or swelling, but it will totally shut you down and paralyze the diaphragm. The cause of death is respiratory failure. Without proper treatment, you don’t stand much of a chance.
Coral Snakes are Elapids, the same family as cobras, mambas, kraits, sea snakes, and like the brown snake and others found in Australia.
We have 3 species of Coral Snakes here in the U.S. The Eastern Coral, Texas Coral, and Sonoran or Arizona Coral.
I’ve handled some of the Eastern ones from my years living in Florida. From my experience with them, they have been pretty chill for the most part, but not always. I have seen them bite.
At times I would hold them freely without securing the head if I felt that particular one was calm enough. Don’t ever do this yourself. It’s best to not even handle them.
Here’s 2 lil quick stories.
One evening I was sitting out on my enclosed back patio and one slithered close to my feet. I ended up handling that one freely and took it to the woods on the edge of my backyard and released it.
Another time, I was standing in my backyard one morning having coffee and out of the corner of my eye, I saw a fairly large one. I didn’t hold him loosely because he tried to open his mouth and bite a few times, and he showed me his 2 tiny needle teeth.
Elapids have different fangs from vipers or rear fanged snakes. They don’t fold back. They are just lil short, sharp, fixed, hollow needles.
I have so many stories I could tell you regarding my snake encounters, maybe some other time. I’m tired of writing now, and I want to go get some caffeine.
But yeah, snakes are so cool to me. Heck, ya know what? All living creatures are cool. And it’s funny how this story slithered into my mind from a conversation with someone who is the coolest of cool, my favorite living creature, my amazing girlfriend. ❤️🔥🐍❤️🔥
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Cool Snake Pics
A harmless Scarlet King SnakeEastern CoralBaby EasternTexas Coral, I think or maybe EasternSonoran or Arizona CoralFlorida Cottonmouth
My first memories as a child are of sitting beside my great grandmother as she played the piano and sang Christian songs. I’ve been singing ever since.
But I never planned on being a musician. It was more like it chose me and I could take my heart there.
It’s such a great thing to have people to talk to. Friends. Family. A counselor. A therapist. Your pastor. Someone. Anyone.
I didn’t have any of that as a young Gen X teenager.
I just had a dead best friend and God and Guitar.
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Blues ManShooting Star
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I’m just a singer, a natural-born guitar ringer Kind of a clinger to sad old songs I’m not a walk-behinder, I’m a new note finder But my name’s a reminder of a blues man that’s already gone
I was working, driving an 18 wheeler, driving my life away, mile after mile, day after day, watching yellow and white painted lines fly by, gone for good, and dodging current wrong decisions.
I had just gotten married two months before. My first time.
It wasn’t a typical newlywed situation. More like a dirt road train with no rails and vanishing confetti dreams.
Just months earlier, I was living the good life in a little house right on the beach with my friend Nathan. He and I met in a Christian drug rehab 6 years earlier. He was younger than me. Like a little brother.
It was an 18 month program, and all us guys lived together and were around each other 24/7. On Sundays, we traveled around to different churches all over Florida as guest speakers. We would stand in front of the congregations and tell our stories. Our testimony.
I learned a lot about Nathan in those days, as he would take the mic and stare out at the people in the pews, out at a new way, with the old things having passed away and all things being made new. He would speak of how it used to be for him. How the drugs had him prisoner. How nothing inside was worth anything. How he didn’t care anymore.
Nathan had just lost his only brother to that life, the same one we were all so desperately trying to let go of, and he was determined to turn himself around and not end up like so many we knew.
His story was incredible. He had miraculously come through situations that should have killed him. He survived two separate car accidents where the others didn’t make it. He was in a bad motorcycle crash. He had overdosed several times, among other things.
There’s a historical drama TV series called Vikings and one of the characters is Bjorn Ironside. It was well known throughout the land that Bjorn couldn’t be killed because he was protected by the gods, haha. Well, it was like this for Nathan, but it wasn’t the gods, it was the God, the same one that had just miraculously showed up beside me and led me untouched out of a murder plot. Even though we had a 12 year age gap between us, I could relate to Nate, the addiction, the pain, the nothingness, constantly losing in the face of life controlling problems but always getting back up.
A few years went by and we did much life together and became great friends. We prayed together, We cried without tears, we forgot our pangs and sufferings and practiced putting our brothers first, we went to church together, worshipped with raised hands and hearts, side by side, helping in the community, sharing a new life so different from the bound one of an addict.
We became such good buddies that I would spend time with his family on holidays and special occasions. All my people were in another state and I didn’t get to see them often. So times like Christmas, it was nice to not be alone. Him and I moved in together and lived in a small beach cottage right on the water. It was an amazing time in our lives. So many memories from the two years we spent there, hanging out with our girlfriends and friends, having people over on the weekends. Living the famous SaltLife that Floridian beach residents were known for.
As I’m writing, I’m smiling and remembering much, like the only time I ever went skinny dipping. It was him and me and our girlfriends and some of their friends, and Nate talked everyone into getting naked and going swimming at night, in the ocean. Haha, crazy times, man.
He was a paramedic and worked a grueling schedule. I was also working long hours, driving locally, picking up 40 ton orange juice concentrate tankers from the port that were arriving from Brazil and taking them to production plants all over the state. We didn’t see each other much those last few months because of our jobs, but occasionally we’d have a few moments here and there on the weekends and we’d talk, reflect back on our lives, and how great things are today, how we never wanted to go back to the way things were. How blessed and fortunate we were to have made it out alive from a past that had hooks.
As I hammered down the road that day, my phone started ringing. On the caller ID was my best friend and new brother in law, Jimmy. He said he had bad news, in that one particular tone people use when it’s the worst. I felt a deep pause inside, like breath and blood ceasing, then I listened.
He said it was Nathan. Something terrible has happened. He was in the hospital, brain dead and being kept alive by machines. His family has decided to let him go and will be turning everything off soon. They wanted to give all his friends time to come by, see him, and say goodbye.
After I hung up the phone, the memories drove through me and passed like mile markers, and every exit sign suddenly meant something.
Oh Nate, why did you go back.
A few days later, Jimmy and I went to see Nathan one last time. As I stepped off the elevator and walked toward his room, my heart did that thing. His door was open, the curtains as well, and the room was so bright and warm from the sun. I saw him laying there from a good ways down the hall, and everything went into slow motion as I walked that last little bit.
I stood beside him. I sat beside him. All the tearless crying from days past was about to be gone. I held his hand the way a man would and talked to him for a while.
Something amazing began to happen, he started responding. He knew I was there, and he was saying goodbye too. It was the most beautiful thing. I could feel God. I could feel Nathan. I could feel everything.
I walked out of that hospital room that afternoon with my shoulders raised—strong inside, healed, and at peace. I was ready to face my own life and recent wrong decisions. It was time to stop mourning and start living.
Nathan just had his 29th birthday 2 months before his passing.
Sports have always been a huge part of my life. They’ve been there for as long as I can remember. I come from a long line of athletes. My grandfather even had an opportunity to pitch for the Detroit Tigers, but he chose to serve in World War II instead. My father was a great athlete too, and he was also my coach growing up, teaching me the game—and a lot about life—along the way…
I love a lot of sports, but my two main ones are American football and baseball. I played Little League all through my childhood and into my teens. I didn’t just throw on a uniform and participate—I excelled. I was a star, haha. I’m normally pretty humble, but I want to be accurate here so you can feel what I’m putting down 😅 I was mainly a pitcher, but in between starts I played shortstop and left field, doing whatever my team needed… I also hit for power and average.
In little league.. I once made an insane diving catch in left field to win the game… the crowd went nuts… bum-rushed me and carried me off the field on their shoulders cheering haha…
Sports were where I learned who I was when things got hard…
I kept it going into junior high and high school, playing both baseball and football. On the football field I lined up at quarterback, wide receiver, and at cornerback on defense, and I excelled there too. The dream was always to try and go pro in baseball, but along the way I got pulled into the music scene and ended up chasing that route instead. Even then, I never really left sports behind. I kept playing, jumping into league softball over the years and staying connected to the game any way I could.
As far as watching sports, my heart stays close to home. I love the Atlanta Braves and Falcons, and when it comes to college football, I’m a huge Georgia fan—Go Dawgs! Major League Baseball, the NFL, and college football are my mainstays, but I also enjoy basketball and golf, both playing and watching. Sports have always been more than just games to me. I’m thankful I grew up the way I did, grateful for the chance to play, I miss them days…
My first year in little league… im holding the bat wrong in this pic.. my hands are opposite how they should be lol
1 Corinthians 9:24–26 (NIV)
Do you not know that in a race all the runners run, but only one gets the prize? Run in such a way as to get the prize… Everyone who competes in the games goes into strict training. They do it to get a crown that will not last, but we do it to get a crown that will last forever…
Heart of Loia `'.,°~ 