Author: Kevin Stone

They’re everywhere. At the local Walmart, at the bank, at work and on the highways, passing by. They manage to live their lives all around us and we may not even know them. While we were shopping for deals on meats to grill last weekend, they were picking flowers. They purchased tiny American Flags. While we were enjoying not being at work for an extra day, they were flipping through old photographs and handling the little what-nots and things they left behind. While we laughed and ate, they were crying tears for the ones that did not come home.  

 The families of the Fallen are all around us. They continue to mourn the sons and daughters that fell “over there”. Their politics don’t matter. They don’t march and protest. It doesn’t matter if their child, father, mother or cousin died fighting tyranny and oppression. They could have fought Hitler, Communists, Saddam, Al-qaeda or the Taliban. What truly matters to them is that the one they loved did not come home to them. And they remember. 

They remember smiles and laughter. They remember the last time they saw or talked to them. They see them in photos and posts and listen to old voicemails. They tell the next generation about them as best they can, trying to preserve the memory of someone they may have never met so that they will know that that soldier, sailor, airman or marine was real. That person dressed in their Class A uniform whose photo sits on the mantle was a real person. Someone’s baby who went off to a faraway land and fought evil so that you won’t have to fight them here at home. They tell them to remember. 

Seventy five hundred children of America have fallen since the War on Terror began. And those families walk among us every day. Some we know. Most we are unaware of. Remember the sacrifice of their children on Memorial Day and throughout the year. Respect the Fallen Sons and Daughters memory in any way you can. Flags. Memorials. Flowers. Posts.  

May God bless the Fallen and their Families. 

And God bless Y’all. 

He was born into a busy family. The third child of four, with his brother coming fast behind him about a year and a half later, he had little time to be “the baby”. He dealt with it well, but I’m sure it had an effect on his childhood. He was usually quiet, but with a temper that came out pretty hard when it appeared. He took after his daddy in that area. I like to think he took after me in more ways than that, because he grew into a pretty awesome guy. 

He bit a teacher, Mrs.Mickey, on the first day of kindergarten. I doubt she deserved it, but it was hard not to be on his side. It sounds funny now, but was quite an issue at the time. It was probably the only time I ever had to go to the school about his behavior. That’s a pretty good record for anyone. He did well in school. Of course, when you start off by biting the teacher, everyone else gets in line pretty quick. Prison rules apply. 

In high school he shined. He helped start a school bank and ran it. He worked at a local grocery store, and eventually ran that, too. He took responsibility well and people trusted him. He went on to college at UT Martin and graduated. Only the second of our family to do so. He began working for a regional retail outlet that seems to have stores everywhere. He managed several stores and then worked for some years as a regional manager, but his passion was working his own store. Not without some reservations, he went back to managing his own store. He knew what he wanted to do and he did it. That speaks well for anyone.  

He’s always been the person you can go to for help. The one that will take time, energy and resources to do things for others. I’ve watched him struggle quietly at times and work hard to dig his way out of difficulties. Never complaining, never quitting, but with a smile and a “how can I help?” he’s in there, elbow deep, solving his own, and other people’s problems. It’s not flashy. It’s not how you get attention, but he does the work no one else will do. He steps up. Every time. He makes his father, and his family, proud to know him.  

If you go into his store on Old Hickory Boulevard, in Jackson, Tennessee this week (or next-his birthday is May 25th) wish Micheal Wayne Stone a Happy Birthday! Chances are he’ll be working the DG register, or stocking items, or any of the million things he does as the manager there. Know this, if you do: he deserves a very happy thirty-seventh birthday, because he’s one of the best people I know.  

I might be a little biased, but it doesn’t mean I’m wrong. 

Happy Birthday, Mike! Dad loves you! 

God bless Y’all! 

A Long Time Ago, In A Galaxy Far, Far Away… 

I’m writing this on Sunday, May 4th. Happy Star Wars Day! May the Fourth be with you! 

It was 1977 and I had just turned twelve. The new movie Star Wars had been released in May, but our local movie theater didn’t get it until nearly that Fall. It was driving me crazy that this new movie that was getting so much hype on the television and radio (yes, radio was a BIG thing way back then) wasn’t available to me yet. I was desperate to find anything Star Wars related. I bought the “movie-based” book that came out that Summer and read Star Wars before I saw it in theaters. Yeah, I’m as nerdy as they come. It was an awesome read but, I must admit, the movie was much better. I don’t get to say that very often. When you’re presented with galactic battles between space Jedi’s and dark lords of the Sith on a big screen when you’re twelve…that’s hard to compete with.  

I built Rebel X-Wing and Imperial Tie Fighters from model kits. I even had a model of the Millenium Falcon. I listened to the Radio Play version of Star Wars when they put it on in serial form for a whole afternoon. I even recorded it with my shoebox-sized tape recorder. (I ran out of tape before it ended) I read the Star Wars comic books put out by Marvel. I went to the opening week of The Empire Strikes Back and The Return of the Jedi. I watched with fascination as we all learned that Luke’s father (Spoiler Alert!) was his arch enemy, Darth Vader! Yeah! Vader had cut his hand off and was giving him an ultimatum to either join the Dark Side or face death….   Okay, okay! I won’t explain the whole thing to you. If you wanted to know, you’d know by now. What I’m trying to say is that I lived and breathed the Star Wars Universe when it arrived. I loved it. I wanted to live in that Universe. At the ripe old age of somewhere less than sixty, I seem to be getting my chance. The world has made my dreams of Star Wars come true. How? Check this out: 

The Grand Republic had a politician that hyped a bunch of real problems (some of which he made up, caused or fabricated) so that the ruling body (Senate) elevated him to greater power (Emperor/President). He declared a bunch of emergencies that enabled him to be granted Emergency Powers. He took those powers and made himself an Emperor. In the name of peace and safety, he took rights away from the governing states and the people they governed. He controlled information, calling anyone who disagreed with him a traitor (and “fake” news), stamped out dissent by decree and the barrel of the blaster (that’s a gun) and then disbanded the ruling body (Senate), leaving himself to be the Supreme Ruler of the Galaxy. All throughout this story, a rebellion began. People recognized his actions were those of a despot and dictator. They tried to legally challenge him. They were imprisoned. They tried to get out the truth to the people. They were silenced. (sued in court). Then they began to resist in earnest, by sabotage and intrigue. In underground (not really under the ground, but on planets on the out rim of the civilized galaxy) they formed armed groups that ambushed and attacked the Evil Empire when and where they could. They were The Rebel Alliance. The Resistance.  

Today, we are living somewhere in the middle of that last paragraph. I’m not happy about it, as we are missing all the space flight, laser blasters and alien creatures and planets that made the movie so much fun. Don’t fool yourself, though. It’s real. We’re in the fight of our lives. One that will determine if our grandchildren grow up in a place that has individual freedoms, free elections, and the right to due process. Wake up, my fellow Americans. Don’t bow to the Emperor. Be a Rebel. Join The Resistance.  

God bless Y’all.

Where Flowers bloom so does hope. – Lady Bird Johnson 

We have emerged from the cold winter into the spring of new life. The weather is still trying to decide if we deserve it by pushing us around with wind, rain and tornados but it won’t keep us from the warm, beautiful days ahead for much longer. The flowers will bloom, even if they are flooded with rain and thrashed with the storms. As Lady Bird says, hope will bloom with the flowers. The question is: what will we do with it?  

“Hope sleeps in our bones like a bear waiting for spring to rise and walk.” – Marge Piercy 

If hope sleeps in my bones, I suspect it’s as lazy as I am. I’m a really good sleeper, napper and all-around dozer-offer. The poet captures the true nature of hope, in that we have to wake up and make use of it if it’s to do us any good. It’s latent, dormant and asleep until that moment we wake up and smell the roses. Then we have to act upon it. Hope does us no good if it’s just used as a comforting emotion to lull us back to sleep. We have to shake off our hibernation and get on with it. I’m guilty of doing just that. I’ve found myself waking up and going about my day with altogether too much automation, never acting on the hope that “sleeps in (my) bones”. I leave it in there to lie dormant, as I go to work and seem to never get around to doing the things that would bring my hopes to life. Hope is more than that. The reality is that hope should be our firm foundation that we build things on. Like relationships, careers, and dreams of a better life.  

Hebrews 11:1  

“Now Faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen.” 

If you want to know how to get to the things you hope for (if they’re worth having in your life at all) you need faith. In God first. In yourself next. It’s okay to have faith in yourself, just don’t trust yourself more than the Big Guy Upstairs. He’s equipped us with all the tools to get to where we need to go, and we should trust that He’s in control. We really can do amazing things if we just have faith to get to the things we hope for. Things hoped for need to be the good things, too. Don’t treat it like a genie in a bottle and turn the whole thing into wishes. It don’t work like that.  

“Spring is the time of plans and projects.” – Leo Tolstoy 

Get off your duff and make a plan. Do something you’ve always “hoped” to do. Stop waiting to do the “Big Thing” you’ve always wanted to do, or all the “Little Things” you’ve always dreamed of being a part of your life. Rise and walk out of hibernation and go “Do”. Nobody is stopping you. Nobody but you.  

This has been a Public Service Announcement to Myself. If any of you get any motivation from it, it’s entirely accidental. You’re welcome. 

God bless Y’all!

Mary Bell Stone (Ferguson) was born on April 22nd, 1941, in the “Show-me” state of Missouri. She was the youngest child of Jake and Florence Ferguson. Born in a two-bedroom house five miles outside of Fisk, she was the last of seventeen children. Her parents had children, and grandchildren, older than her. She entered this world the youngest of a big family and is now the matriarch of her own family. Mary Bell gave the world Pam, Joe, Mary Ann and yours truly. Twelve grandchildren between us kids and seventeen great-grandchildren between those folks makes quite the tribe. All of us are here because Mary Bell made it happen.  

Mary Bell and Wayne Stone would’ve never been married if she hadn’t decided to go meet this good-looking Army boy that she’d been writing to in Europe. She had it in her head to go have a look-see and drove down from Missouri to Forrest City, Arkansas. She had to stop at the local post office for directions to their rural home, then off she went. When she got to the Stone’s house, she was told that Wayne was down the road “talkin to a fella about a car”. One of the siblings went after him. When he made it home, she was sitting on the steps when he walked up. He wasn’t paying attention and patted her on the head (thinking she was his little brother) and she says, “Is that all you’ve got to say to me?” The rest is history.  

My mamma was a homemaker. In a world of working moms, my mom was always there for us. She had started her young adult life as a waitress and working hard, and she did the same for all of us every day of our lives. All that laundry, all those meals, all the trips to the doctor were her. When we cried, she was there. When we failed and succeeded, she was there. She’s been the go-to person in our lives. She still is.  

In her eighty-four years (come the 22nd of this month) she will have been on this earth one thousand and eight months, four thousand, three hundred and eighty-three weeks, thirty thousand six hundred and eighty-two days, seven hundred and thirty six thousand, three hundred and sixty-eight hours, forty-four million, one hundred eighty-two thousand and eighty minutes, and two trillion, six hundred and fifty million, nine-hundred and twenty-four thousand and eight-hundred seconds. And she can’t quite understand why she doesn’t have any energy nowadays. Mom, you deserve to sit on the couch if you feel like it. You’ve earned it many times over. 

Happy Birthday to the one I owe my sense of humor and “never say die” attitude to: Mary Bell Stone! I’m proud to be your baby. You might say I owe my whole life to you. You never gave up on me, and I love you, Mom. 

Now all Y’all go call your momma. 

God bless Y’all! 

She was everything to me. She could see into my soul and loved me; despite the darkness she saw. She was wild and unpredictable. The very smell of her brings fond memories to my mind. The fun times, the laughter, the merriment and carefree life we experienced is always somewhere in my mind just waiting to be fished out and remembered. Every day without her leaves a hole in my life that longs to be filled. It remains empty to this day. 

We met when I was still in school. I was young and impressionable. I wanted to be liked, to be seen. She saw me. She accepted me for who I was, even if I didn’t know myself. We went to parties, played games and stayed out late. As I grew older, we grew apart. Our paths didn’t stray far, as I would always steer myself to her. She was my muse, my lover and my biggest fan. We talked long into the night, sharing everything. We made plans. We spoke of adventure and daring lives. We would ride the rollercoaster of life together.  

The fun ended one day. It actually happened over the course of many years, but it’s like the old adage about boiling a frog. If you do it slow enough, the frog doesn’t notice. The fun turned into problems and crisis. The enchantment crashed into reality. My family and friends told me she was ruining my life, that she would be the end of me. Still, I loved her. She had my heart and mind. I never wanted to be without her. I would let the world burn around me before I gave her up. And burn it did. 

I drank to forget I had problems. I drank to feel something. I drank to feel nothing. I drank to celebrate. I drank in sorrow. For every feeling, thought and motivation known to man, I had a reason to drink. At the end, I drank because that’s what alcoholics do: they drink. I call myself an alcoholic because, after being locked up three separate times over eight years for DUIs, I realized I had a problem. After the last one I agreed to go to counselling for six months. In that time, I learned the value of being truly honest about myself and how to talk about it. It saved my sobriety. It gave me another chance. That was nearly ten years ago.  

I still think about her every day. I wonder where she is, and who she’s with. Then I drive by her place and see all the guys in and out of there. I see her walking down the street in other people’s arms. I talk to others who have been with her, still smelling of her sickly-sweet perfume, slurring their speech as their minds ramble and they try to assemble their thoughts. They’ve fallen for her. Until they see her for what she truly is, they’ll keep falling. She’s a user, an abuser and will suck every joy from their lives. The skank. Good riddance. 

If you are addicted to alcohol, or drugs, and want help, dial or text 988. Reach out to friends and family. There is help for those who want it. There are people that can help you get away from her, if you want to. Please reach out today. 

My thanks to my family and friends who have forever kept me in their prayers. My prayers go out for those that aren’t willing to let go of her and change their life. May you do so very soon.  

God bless Y’all. 

      Hold onto your butts for this lightning newsflash: I don’t know everything. Sorry folks, but it’s true. As much as I’d love to lay claim to the title of “Supreme Know-it-all” it’s just not in the cards for me. Life has me almost as confused today as it did when I was in my mid-twenties. I’d say my teens, but we were all “know-it-alls” between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. I did, however, wake up to some very simple facts a long time ago. I haven’t always lived by them, but these are some principles that I have found to be true in my life. They ain’t nothing awe-inspiring but maybe y’all will agree they’re true in your life too. 

     God’s in control. Even when you think it should be you, it ain’t. When you find yourself thinking “I’ve got this” you’ve missed it. We can pound a square peg into a round hole, splinters and all, and call it “God’s Will” but that don’t make it so. Follow God’s simple words.He wrote a pretty good book about dealing with life’s problems. Love your neighbor (as yourself, even!), be kind, don’t be judgmental and hateful, and be good stewards of each other and the earth in general. Forgive one another. After all, we’re just human. 

     Everybody deserves to be treated with respect, love and kindness. Nobody is better than anybody else. If I disagree with you, it doesn’t mean that I think less of you. I still love you. I just don’t agree with you. This Old World makes such a big deal out of all the differences in nationalities, races, religions and the color of our skin. The Big Guy in the Sky made all of us and He just sees a soul with a body wrapped around it. As a famous author once said (and I paraphrase here) “You don’t have a soul. You are a soul. You have a body.” It also doesn’t matter whether you’re rich or poor. We all are born naked and afraid into this world, and we’ll all leave it pretty much the same way. Let’s be nice to one another in between all that, okay? 

     Everything is politics, but politics ain’t everything. I have to remind myself of this quite often, lately. Humans like to divide themselves into little cliques that claim rightness and truth. We’re all a little wrong. Some more than others, but nobody’s perfect. In the end, we’re usually just trying to avoid being the wrongest. I know that ain’t a word, but ain’t ain’t proper English either and you didn’t care about me using that one. Recognizing how wrong I can be is one of my best character traits. It happens so often. 

     In quick succession, some self-explanatory truths. Don’t worry, be happy. Self-delusion is the key to happiness. You’ll be okay. Rub some dirt on it. But did you die? Where there’s life, there’s hope. Never give up. Don’t sweat the petty stuff and don’t pet the sweaty stuff. Seriously though, most of it really is the petty stuff. So don’t sweat it.  

     So there you are. Some things I’ve learned in my nearly six decades. At least the things that I try to live by. Maybe I’m not a “know-it-all” but I think I just might be a “know-some-of-it”. Doesn’t roll off the tongue like butter, but I’m okay with it.  At least I ain’t one of those “know-nothins”.

God bless Y’all. 

          My sister Pam jumped out of a perfectly good airplane last Saturday. For her sixty-fourth birthday, her kids gave her the gift of a Tandem Skydiving Jump. Man, they must love her. Either that or she’s heavily insured. Seriously, though, it’s been on her bucket list for a while and she’s not one to shrink from danger. The weather was beautiful at West Tennessee Skydiving’s Wings Field outside of Whiteville, Tn.  She was given extensive training (she watched an instructional video), then strapped to an experienced skydiver, flown up to about fourteen thousand, five hundred feet and then exited the aircraft. They were in freefall for about a minute. She liked that part the best. They zoomed towards the earth at about one hundred and twenty miles per hour. Then they popped the chute and glided around for another five minutes before they landed semi-gently on a soft, grassy field. She said she loved it. I think it’s pretty awesome, and I would love to do it myself this year. We’re both crazy like that. Must be genetic. Pam’s definitely my hero. 

Gravity is a fact. There’s no way around it. You jump out of an airplane with just a silk (space-age polymer?) chute on your back you can be certain of one thing: you will make it to the ground. The question is just how fast, and how hard, you will meet it. There’s a ton of trust involved. Trusting the quality of the equipment. Trusting the person who is assembling and packing your chute. Trusting the readings on the instruments in the plane and altimeter on your wrist that tells you when to pull the rip cord. Most of all it’s trusting the people who trained you and then trusting yourself to know when to do the right things and when to do them.  

Marriage is kind of like tandem skydiving. You strap yourself to someone you trust and you jump into life. You’re both going to go in the same direction, but how you get there and how hard it’s going to be is dependent upon the cooperation and coordination of the two people joined together. Laura Gail and I took our tandem jump on March 25th, 2012. Thirteen lucky years ago on last Wednesday we joined ourselves together and jumped out into life. I’ve not always made it easy for her, but she hasn’t cut me loose so far and I’m grateful. She’s never let me down and I’ve made it my goal in life to never let her down. Sometimes it’s like an exciting freefall, and sometimes it feels like we’re tangled up in each other’s risers, but we always manage to pull out of the troubles and get the chute open. Life keeps throwing bad weather and gremlins at us, but we pull together to get past them. We have our days of blue skies and lifting winds, too. Every single bit of the journey with her is worth it. One day we’ll land softly on the grass and look back at our life together and know that we did it all-together. Wild ride and all.  

Solo jumping looks pretty cool, too.  Some people handle life better solo. Me? I like someone to yell with as we fly into the ground. It soothes my soul.  

Happy Anniversary, Laura Gail! May our skies always be crystal blue and fair weathered and may our chute always open! 

Happy Landing, Pam! So glad you didn’t go “Splat”! 

God bless Y’all! 

 I’m a tired old man. A day that finds me with energy and motivation is a rare one. I can actually feel the wheels of my life slowing down like the momentum of a train as it stops accelerating. My choo choo has no more steam, it would seem. The “I think I can, I think I can” is being smothered in its sleep. Presumably during a Sunday afternoon nap. The mantra has changed into “Just one more time, just one more time” and I feel it in my bones.  

My weekend was filled with family. My daughter threw a birthday party for both my son’s partner, Terry, and her doggy-child, Bo. One turned six years old and the other will be forty on the twenty-sixth. I’ll let you guess which one turns how old. I don’t want to embarrass anyone. It was fun to see so many people I love under one roof. Hectic too, but worth it. My daughter, Candice, did an awesome job decorating the house and preparing so much to eat. My daughter in law, Charlotte, made a beautiful cake for Terry, complete with a unicorn. It was a delicious treat. Gifts were opened and the birthday song was sung. We laughed, talked and enjoyed being near one another. Then, a couple of hours later, they were gone.  

The older I get, the more I appreciate these get-togethers. Each time I watch them leave I feel a twinge because I may not see them for a while. Summertime is nearly here, and they’ll be doing their own thing, as it should be. I’m proud of all my kids and grandkids. They’re living their lives as best as they can, and they’re all good people. I know they make a difference in their own family’s lives and are making this world a better place. Laura and I are proud of them. I wish for them to enjoy their lives, be themselves and make the most out of their time on this earth. Still, I miss them when they leave.  

My oldest son, Chris, couldn’t make it. He and Anna were stopped by the heavy flooding near Nashville and had to turn back. My mom didn’t make it either. The weather is a factor in most of her travel plans, being an octogenarian and all. I missed seeing all of them, but I’m glad they’re safe. Much better to miss this visit than to end up being on the local news as a casualty of the weather. There will be another time soon.  

          If this week’s column seems like an old man’s meanderings, then you understand that I wasn’t kidding when I began. I’m tired. I’ll gird my loins, get some sleep, and try and tackle the rest of the week with a little more gusto. In the meantime, you all can call that person in your life that you haven’t seen in a while. Make sure mom, dad or your kids know that “I miss you” isn’t just something we say. It’s a condition of the heart.  

God bless Y’all! 

  The buttercups are blooming all over. The cold mornings are slowly giving away to warmer weather. The grass is growing and getting greener as it pushes out through the dead debris of winter. We’re resetting clocks all over the house. Spring is almost here. 

      Contrary to how you may have felt recently, winter will soon be leaving us. With its demise we are seeing more of the sun and feeling it too. With spring comes all the things most of us love. Flowers, birds, fresh air, waterborne activities and baseball. Yup. Who could argue against any of that? I’ve heard that there are people who prefer the cold, but I’m not sure I’ve met any of those folks. Of course, we all love the family Holidays like Halloween, Thanksgiving and Christmas but who wouldn’t love to have those during warmer months? Just once, maybe? I could go for that.  

There are drawbacks to the warmer weather. With the pretty flowers and fresh grass comes the insects. People who visit the South in the summertime usually have a comment or two about our robust insect population. I grew up in the Arkansas delta, near the Mississippi River and I can attest to the existence of mosquitos (pronounced “Skeeters”) that will “swoop down and snatch you up” or “tear yore a** up” as they come down on you “like a cloud”. Likewise, our bird population has its share of undesirable types. It’s not all Cardinals and Bluebirds around here. If you see multiple hawk-like forms circling overhead, they are less likely to be actual hawks and likely to be a “kettle” of vultures (pronounced “buzzards”). They’re called a “kettle” when a group is flying around, a “committee” when they are resting together in trees or on the ground, and a “wake” when they are feeding together. Just remember that the next time you have to go around two, or three, of them when they’re feeding on the road. Be respectful. They’re eating buffet at the “wake”. 

I can’t think of anything negative with the coming of waterborne activities, unless the fact that you might want to watch out for Cottonmouth Snakes and Snapping Turtles if the water is green, or brown. Y’all at the swimming pool just have to watch out for the aforementioned “skeeters”. Everybody loves “goin swimmin” even if it just means playing in waist deep water while the sun fries your skin to a crisp. Ain’t nothing better when the temperature hits about two thousand degrees around July and August.  

And baseball? We all love something about baseball. We’re ‘Merican ain’t we? For the sixth time Opening Day will begin March 18th in Tokyo, Japan. The World Champion Dodgers will face the Cubs at the Tokyo Dome, kicking the entire world off to another season of baseball. Hot dogs, stadium beer, seventh inning stretches and rooting for your team are all things that we can smell, taste and hear that proves to us that Winter is, indeed, out! 

Let’s play ball! 

God bless Y’all!