Rolling Stones

     It was the summer of 1976 and I was eleven years old. In the Arkansas heat we played at the elementary playground around the corner from our house. I was in sixth grade that year and junior high was just around the corner. That old elementary playground was right out of a 1950’s yearbook. The fire-engine red, all metal jungle-gym (monkey bars, we called them), the fifteen foot tall swing set with seats for six, a steel slide that you could cook an egg on and wooden see-saws with no handles at all became our whole universe of imagination before we discovered the finer things in life. We hung upside down on the monkey bars. We flew like eagles from the swings, jumping out at just the right time. We burned our hands and legs on that slide, and we thumped each other on the old see-saws, jumping off at the bottom and causing our opposites to land with a painful thud. No supervision. The only rules were the ones we made up. We didn’t know it then, but it was blissful freedom.  

The United States of America was turning two hundred years old that July. Schoolhouse Rock had special cartoons about it. We read about the signing of the Constitution in school, as well as the Revolutionary War. I loved it all. History has always been my bag. I can read history all day long, just don’t ask me to do long division. That’s just how I’m wired.  

There was a girl in my class who liked me. Don’t ask me why, because she had to tell me for me to know. I’m still kind of like that. You’ve got to slap me in the face with the obvious or I’ll miss it. Anyhow, this girl wanted us to be “girlfriend and boyfriend”, but I had no earthly idea how to go about it. She was bold enough to ask me, face to face, one day when we were alone on the playground. I was hesitant. Shy. Just a bit suspicious. So she bribed me. She had an oversized plastic quarter that was a “bicentennial coin” mock-up. Bicentennial is just a big word for “two hundred years”. She said she’d give it to me if I’d be her boyfriend. Well, like I said, I DO love history. So, I agreed. She said we had to kiss, too. That wasn’t as hard a sell as being her “boyfriend”. No surprise there, huh? Men, right? 

     So, I kissed her. My first kiss. Eleven years old. Her lips were plump and sweet. Her eyes were closed, and we shared a few seconds of an exhilarating new experience as we clumsily fell into the trap of adolescence. It was a moment I’ll never forget. I really loved that coin. I wish I knew where it was now.   

     History is a beautiful thing. Here I am, fifty years later, and the anniversary of my first kiss looms as our nation is turning two hundred and fifty years old. Neither of us look the same as we did back then. We’ve both been through a lot, made a lot of mistakes, and had to pay the price for our own stupidity at times. We’re no “spring chicken” anymore. I’d like to think we’re both more mature, seasoned and, possibly, wiser for all we’ve been through but maybe I’m being wishful. Our nation is still not perfect. Our leaders even more so. And I’m still chasing that sweet kiss from a girl named Laura. Not the same Laura, but definitely the right one. I guess history does repeat itself. Maybe it’ll all work itself out at the end of the story. My life did. Where there’s life, there’s hope.  

God bless Y’all.  
 

Dear God it’s me again, Kevin. I want you to know how much I appreciate all you do for me and my family. We’ve all been sick around here these past few weeks, but we’re all getting better. Nanny and Laura are both still working hard on shaking it, but I know you’ll see them through. Slowly, but surely, we’re on the mend. Thank you for that. Please help them keep getting well. I need those ladies to keep me in line. I love em an awful lot.

   Our nation really needs your help to get better, too. We’ve seen some really sick things happening lately, and it worries us all. There are wars, and rumors of wars, everywhere we look. We’ve bombed people, sent troops into our own cities, kidnapped leaders of foreign countries, threatened to invade several neighboring countries and annex them, rounded up people with masked federal agents, sent them to horrible places against their will, and killed our own citizens in the street in broad daylight. And that’s just this month. 

     Our leader seems to think this government “Of the people” exists solely to make money and get him credit, fame and accolades. He’s building ballrooms, arches (of triumph?), and putting his name on everything like a toddler with a permanent marker. The people he’s put into positions of power are, without exception, “yes” men and women who never correct, or contradict, him. At EVERY meeting he has his minions “thank” him for being “right about everything”. I’m pretty sure that only you, God, have that ability. My point is this: we need YOU more than ever, God. I know in my heart that my country is a great place because you’ve blessed us. Throughout history you’ve been there for America. Help us now. We’re in crisis. We need to remember what Jesus told us: love thy neighbor (feed the hungry, clothe the needy, care for the sick and fatherless) and love you with all our heart. You made this nation a beacon to the world. People came here to be free and have a better, safer, life. Now we’ve decided that these people are to blame for all our problems. Help us get back to the place where we care about those people, too. Our ancestors were once where they are now. 

      Help us to be selfless and not selfish with our freedom and peace. Help us to be good neighbors to the nations of the world, as well as the person standing next to us. Help us to not be the aggressors. Help us to be the “Good Guys” once again. Heal our country and save us from those who would “rule over” us. Help us to be a nation governed by those we elected to office to represent us in our Congress, and not by those who would order us to follow their “mandate”.

   Oh yes, I almost forgot, help our upcoming elections not be manipulated by tyrants and evil men.

   Help us to vote, Lord. While we still can.

Amen.

God Bless Y’all.

   Last Tuesday was January 6th, 2026. The fifth anniversary of Insurrection Day. The day Trumplicans marched on the United States Capitol building and broke into it as Congress, and Vice President Mike Pence, were in the process of certifying the election results. They came from a rally held by Trump on the Ellipse, or President’s Park South, just south of the White House, where soon-to-be former president Trump had told them “if you don’t fight like hell, you won’t have a country anymore”. He had made unsubstantiated claims of election fraud and irregularities, even while calling Georgia secretary of state to “find 11, 780 votes” in order to overturn the election. The leaders of The Proud Boys and Oath Keepers Militias, factions of the Three Percenters and QAnon movement, white supremacists, neo-fascists, neo-Nazi and neo-Confederates were involved in the invasion of the Capitol. Some were armed. It was the first time the confederate flag had entered into the United States Capitol building. To date, it was the only coup d’etat directed towards the Federal Government in the history of the United States of America.  

    The claims of election fraud and vote tampering were proven to be false. Over fifteen hundred rioters were hunted down, charged, and had their day in court. Over half of those got jail time. For his instigation, and perpetuation of lies about a “rigged election” Trump was impeached by Congress for a second time. Investigations into both the former president and his mob were on-going when he entered office again in 2025. Those disappeared when he took office. He also gave a blanket pardon to those “loyalists” who had been tried and imprisoned. He still maintains that the election had been “rigged” and that he had nothing to do with the January 6th Insurrection.  

   Trump believes his re-election in 2025 to be a validation of all his claims. He reiterates consistently that being elected again was a “mandate from the people” that he can do no wrong. His people began to float the probability of him running for an unconstitutional third term in 2028. He has merch already made up. Hats with “Trump 2028” sat on his desk when democrats came to the Oval Office to talk about the government shutdown last year. He bulldozed the East Wing of the White House, without consulting anyone, in order to build a ballroom. He plastered gold inlay and ornate “royalty-level” decor all through the White House. He has turned the “People’s House” into Trump House. He put his name on the Kennedy Center. Yes. The Kennedy Center. He’s putting his likeness on coins commemorating the 250th Anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, contrary to federal law prohibiting living presidents on the face of money. He is ruling by presidential decree and whim, and doing it badly.  

   I agree with the president Trump of January 6th, 2020, when he said “if you don’t fight like hell, you won’t have a country anymore”. Truer words have never been spoken by him. Sic semper tyrannis, y’all.  Never give up the ship.  

God bless Y’all.  

I was up at two in the morning doing things that Old Men in their sixties do. The whole house was quiet. I sat in Laura Gail’s bathroom (yes, she owns it) and tried not to fall asleep. The eight-dollar Walmart clock on the wall a mere three feet away ticked the minutes away loudly. It’s amazing how loud a mechanical clock is when there’s no other competing noise to diffuse its regular counting of the seconds. I’d left the light off and the door open (yes, we have THAT kind of relationship after nearly fourteen years together. She was also asleep. We have limits) and I didn’t bring my phone. It wasn’t going to be that kind of a pit stop. I was surprised when I went back to bed that I’d been in there about thirty minutes. I hadn’t actually counted the clock ticks whilst I had sat there, but it really hadn’t seemed that long. Time plays tricks on us Old Men and kids. 

With the dawn of a new year, we all look forward to new opportunities. The chance to meet new people, see new places and taste life differently. We step into the future like Neil Armstrong putting that first footprint on the moon, thinking “it’s MY time, My turn for greatness!”  While I applaud your attitude, I would like to remind you that Neil got there with a whole lot of help, training, and preparation. No future accomplishments are going to happen by accident. The comedian Jimmy Carr likes to say “the life you want is on the other side of the work you’re avoiding.” A very honest and simple explanation of why most people never realize their “New Year’s Resolutions” or follow through with their dreams in general. It also explains why I’m still fat and smoking. Ugh. I hate it when I’m right. 

Crossing the imaginary calendar line into 2026 doesn’t have the same excitement for me as, say, 1999 did. Of course, the whole world was waiting for the end of that one. The End being Near, and all. I watched the clock tick by that night as I worked at the Fed Ex Hub in Memphis, throwing packages all night. The only extraordinary thing that happened that night was that nothing happened. We were all suckered. Sigh. 

The thing we missed is the same thing that we always miss: we travelled in time. Our species has been contemplating time travel for at least the last century. The books, short stories, tv shows, and movies have all examined it’s possibilities. To go forward, or back, in time is a pretty neat trick that I guess we’d all love to give a shot. I just don’t want to end up like Marty McFly and have my hot mom come onto me. That part creeps me out. His mom was pretty hot, though. My point (if I must have one after all that) is that we are experiencing “Time Travel” every day, including when the “Ball Drops” at Times Square. We just seem so darned impressed to see that ticker start over on January First that we forget that every day can be like that. 

 Time travel isn’t impossible. As a matter of fact, you’re doing it right now. The hard reality is that you can only go from the present to the future, and you must experience it all in “real time” but that doesn’t make it any less of a miracle. The beauty of it all is that you can make your dreams and aspirations happen without having to “go back” in time. You can start right now, in the present, and make them happen within your future lifetime.  

Now let’s get going. Happy New Year! 

God Bless Ya’ll! 

                                                                     

   He was a sojourner in a faraway land. He came to this place from as far away as you can imagine, to live as we do, to be as we are. He came to show us what life is about and how we should live it. More importantly, he came to tell us about it in person. As one of us. That’s where it got interesting. 

   You see, God gave us free will (you’ll have to ask Him yourself why) and the ability to choose right and wrong. Righteousness or sin. If He’d wanted simple obedience, I’m betting He could’ve simply appeared to all mankind, told us what to do and forced us to comply. We would’ve been overwhelmed, awed and cowed into doing whatever He told us to do. That’s not God’s style, evidently. He took a different approach. He came here Himself, in the form of a child, and experienced everything that His own creations experienced. Pain. Sorrow. Happiness. Joy. Grief. Excitement. Boredom. Work.  
Rest. All of it. He came to where we were, lived as we did, and then began to teach us how we should treat one another. That’s a bold move.  

   He survived suspicious folks who looked sideways at Mary (How exactly did you get pregnant? Tell us again…), who scoffed at Jesus lowly upbringing in Nazareth (after spending several years in the exotic land of Egypt), and who sneered at Him when He began His ministry because, let’s face it, who WOULDN’T be skeptical of the “prophet” who lived next door to you growing up? I hate to admit it, but I probably would avoid talking to him if I saw Him out cutting the grass. 

 ‘Don’t look at Him. He’ll want to tell you a parable about coins or lost sheep. Weirdo.’  

   Such is how we judge those we have known our whole lives but cannot imagine them being more than just our neighbor. Even with all that judginess coming at Him, one of the top things He taught us was the whole “Love Thy Neighbor” thing. Quite a guy, that Jesus. He laid it all out plainly: love God, love your neighbor (and we are ALL neighbors, He pointed out) just like you love yourself (that implies that we should love ourselves, too), and accept Him as your Savior. He saved us from sin, our selfishness, and an eternity of separation from Him. And He came in person to tell us. Seems to me we should be able to admit that if God Himself can come down from Heaven, be born as a man, live and die as one of us, then we should believe Him and accept Him. Especially when He’s simply telling us to love one another and love Him. Simple, huh? 

   While we celebrate the birth of the Savior, keep in mind that every olive-skinned foreigner with an accent, running from oppression, isn’t here to harm us. At least one of them came to save us from ourselves.  

Merry Christmas and God bless Y’all! 

                                                                                             

   I found myself watching some very old 8mm home videos recently and got to watch myself opening one of my favorite Christmas gifts of all time. It was around 1973 or 74 and I was about eight years old. We lived in West Memphis, Arkansas on Johnson Street and all of us kids were in the living room; opening presents all at the same time. As my two sisters, my brother and I ripped into the flimsy wrapping paper, I felt the remembrance of joy wash over me. I had received one of those plastic army men playsets with hundreds of soldiers, tanks, airplanes, barbed wire, bombed out partial buildings and all kinds of other accessories every eight-year-old kid needs to reenact all the bloody conflicts of World War II. It was awesome! As politically incorrect as such things are in today’s “civilized” and “woke” society, back then this batch of warriors was my kind of present. Organized violence, especially the military kind, has always captured my intrigue. I loved my GI Joes (yes, with the Kung-Fu grip and the realistic “buzz-cut” hairdo. Everything about men in battle interested me, even at the tender age of eight.  

   My brother helped me organize them into “sides” and we battled against each other on the floor of our bedroom, using various sized paper wads as “artillery”. We’d take turns trying to knock out each other’s soldiers with each throw, with him usually coming up victorious. He was the older brother, after all. Four whole years older. He just enjoyed another birthday this week, so thanks, Joe Stone, for playing with me all those times. I appreciate you not smothering me in my sleep, too. You’re a good brother.  

   I played at war with those little army men, making up battles, tactics and strategies for many hours. I played with others, by myself, indoors and outdoors. I built forts and trenches, and bunkers for them. I slaughtered them by their hundreds. Not one single warrior survived. Come to think of it, none of those toys survived. Gee, I guess I WAS kinda rough on those things.  I have two books that I ordered from the Military Book Club in the late Seventies. Blitzkrieg by Len Deighton and Yours to Reason Why-a book where you choose what to do in the battle, and it then tells you what would have happened. Kind of an “interactive” book. None of my toys, airplane or tank models, or original wargames (actual boxed solitaire-type games) survived. Sigh. The nostalgia aches within me.  

   Lest you think of me as a warmongering, blood-thirsty type of dude, I must tell you that my interest in all things about warfare evolved as I grew older. I studied tactics and strategies of the art of ancient and modern wars. I read volumes on the subject. First-person accounts of battle were always my favorite, however. The ability of mankind to inflict, and endure, such horrible things upon our fellow man is both atrocious and bewildering. Even when the reasons for war are just and right, the death and pain are hard to understand. The stories of courage and personal sacrifice seem unbelievable to those of us who have never experienced it first-hand. As General Lee once said: “It is well that war is so terrible, otherwise we would grow too fond of it.” Like all other hardships in life, combat brings out both the best, and worst, in men.  

   It was only when my son, Tim, joined the Army during wartime that I felt the true nature of war brush past me. He spent a year, mobilized with his Guard unit, over in Iraq and Kuwait from 2007 to 2008. I was both proud and terrified. I’m pretty sure he felt even more so of both. He made it back mostly unscathed but with experiences that do not end when the battle is over. He was no toy, but a man that had been thrown into a place where people got killed every day. When they were toppled by the opposing team, they didn’t always get back up.  

   I didn’t go down this rabbit hole to say throw out any toy soldiers, guns, tanks and warplanes. I was merely looking at myself in the mirror. I didn’t turn into a school shooter or a serial killer because I find the organized violence of warfare fascinating. Neither does my wife kill me in my sleep and dissolve my body in a barrel of acid just because she finds true-life murder stories on tv to be soothing. I’m lucky in that I found a hobby that encouraged me to read about men of honor, strength and moral fiber who did incredible things as they stood watch against evil men on our behalf.  

Maybe I just want to get down on the carpet and play with that playset with my brother just one more time. Yup. I think that’s where I was headed. 

Happy Birthday Mary Ann White (my beautiful sister) whose birthday was also this week. You played with me a lot back then, too, and never once killed me in my sleep either. Thanks for that! 

God bless Y’all! 

                                                                                      

     Opinions are like body odor. Everybody has one, but they’re all different. Some are pleasant. Some are horrible. Some remind you of salty peanuts. Some may remind you of raw sewage. Good, or bad, everyone has an opinion. You may disagree with what I’m about to say, but it’s your right to do so. I agree to disagree with you. I may debate you in person, but I will fight for your right to disagree till my last breath. America is all about freedom of speech and expression. So, let’s go.  

If I call someone “retarded” then it’s ME who is “retarded”. It’s a childish slur that should be right up there with the “N” word.  

If I tell a woman to be “Quiet, Piggy” I need the crap slapped out of me by her. 

If I call you “stupid” to your face, then I leave myself open to be disrespected in kind.  

If I start a shooting war over drugs, then I shouldn’t give convicted drug criminals pardons.  

If I think that everything I do and say is legal BECAUSE I’m president of the United States of America, then I really shouldn’t BE the president.  

If I call myself a follower of Christ, then I should try and act like Jesus.  

The United States of America is NOT a corporation and shouldn’t be run like a short term “get rich quick” ponzie scheme that someone else will have to clean up later.  

This nation was built by immigrants. The people from England that got here first didn’t like the Italians, Swedes or Irish when they immigrated either. And so on, and so on. Bigotry and racism are rarely recognized by the people who practice it. They always have a reason to ban, deport, or kill the people they claim are the “real problem in America”. Ask the American Indians who they think should be deported.  

Those are just a few of my opinions. Like em, or not. They belong to me. I call it like I see it. I encourage everyone to think freely, speak freely and never compromise what is obviously right, or wrong, for the sake of the “greater good of the party”. Especially if the “Party” is really just one man with a grudge, and the manners of a mean little boy.  

Oh yeah, don’t forget to vote. 

God bless Y’all.  

Dear God, 

It’s been quite the year. To start with, our country, America, could really use an adult right now. Please help us all to be thankful to live in a place where there is democracy and freedom. Help us to keep, and continue to use, both of those things.  

I’m grateful to you for all the people in my life. My Momma, Mary Belle, who struggles with her home dialysis, constant fatigue, and back pain, went to church with us last Sunday. Thank you. My daughter and grandson were there, too, with Laura Gail and me. Thanks for that, too. Being together in Your House, singing and praising you is something we all tend to take for granted. The Preacher and our church family are a touchstone for our week. It just feels good to be somewhere where everybody loves everybody else, and we can even sing off-key and know that nobody cares. Heck, it’s even encouraged. Thank you for being there with us.  

There’s going to be all kinds of family at my house this Thursday to celebrate Thanksgiving and eat a bunch of food. Thank you for all of it. The family and the food. There’s plenty of folks in the world that don’t have either one. Help us all to reach out to those folks this week, and every week, and give them some fellowship, food, and hope. I appreciate the bounty you’ve blessed us with, and I know that things like that can change in the blink of an eye. Help me to be humble enough to remember that when I see someone in need. Help me to act and not expect anything in return. Kind acts are their own reward. Thank you for every person I’ve ever encountered in my life when I was down and out that did the same for me. Bless em right back, Lord. 

Bless all the folks that tend towards anxiety around the crowd, even when they’re family. You know who they are, and so do they. Help them to remember that we’re only on this earth for a short time and our family is in a constant state of change. Let the kids be a little loud, the adults act like kids and everybody to have fun and be full by the end of it all. Full of food, yes, but let their hearts be full when they leave this house, too. Full of love and the knowledge that they just left a place where everybody wants to see them again, soon. Even if the room gets crowded and loud again. Thank you for the loud folks. They’re our people. 

Last of all, thanks for all the little things you do. Keeping me sane, sober and safe for one more day. My job. Yes, that one that I’m always complaining about. Thanks for giving me the opportunity to provide for my family. Thanks for seeing all of us through this year, even in various stages of health. We’re all getting older. You’ve blessed us with another year together, so that’s a win in my book. Keep blessing Laura Gail as we tackle some blocked arteries and other stuff in the coming months. I need that woman. You don’t have to tell her that, though. She knows it already. Thanks so much for her.  

For all the food and fellowship we are about to receive, we thank you, God.  

Amen. Let’s eat. 

God bless Y’all! 

       I’ve been obsessed with the news for the past year. The political mess that my country is in has snowballed into a fireball of meteoric potential. I’ve read the papers, the blogs, the articles, the websites and watched Tik Toks, YouTubes, Instagrams, and Truth Socials until my brain has melted like an ice cube dropped on a hot skillet. I’ve written about freedoms, liberty, the Constitution, freedom of the press, tyranny, racism, and just plain ole stupid statements made by our leaders and congress people until my fingers are from typing. I’m done. I’m done with the negativity that it has placed in my heart and on my brain. I’m laying down the burden I’ve carried inside of me these past twelve months. I won’t be a voice in the hurricane, screaming silently into the noise of the storm of chaos. I choose peace.  

It’s addictive, this thing called liberty. You get used to thinking, believing and speaking your own valid thoughts and, before you know you’re doing it, you’re channeling all of that into telling other people what to think, believe, and speak. I don’t think we, as a nation, are very far from turning ourselves into an Orwellian nightmare, where the system will become much like the methods “the Party” used to control the population in George Orwell’s book “1984”. Slogans like “Who controls the past controls the future. Who controls the present controls the past” and “War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength” are kind of beginning to make sense to me. I don’t agree with them, but I see how people could be manipulated into believing such rubbish. He also wrote “Power is not a means; it is an end” and in order to get to that end “the Party told you to reject the evidence of your eyes and ears”. I read all this back in the actual year-1984-and it made a lasting impact on me. If you haven’t read it, I truly recommend it. Don’t expect it to give you any solutions to fixing the mess we’re in today, however. It’s not that kind of book. It will show you the direction that less liberty and freedom will get you as a country. It’s not going to show you how to fix a fascist totalitarian state once it’s imbedded like an Alabama tick, however. You’ll need to read up on the American Revolution and Civil War if you want tips about that stuff. It would be a good idea to re-read the United States Constitution and its companion piece, the Bill of Rights as well. It couldn’t hurt.  

I’ve noticed also that our whole political system has gone from representing the needs of its citizens and has devolved into Team Sport. Kurt Vonnegut, the famous author of “Slaughterhouse Five”, once said this of American political parties:  

“The two real political parties in America are the Winners and the Losers. The people don’t acknowledge this. They claim membership in two imaginary parties, the Republicans and the Democrats, instead.”  

Wow. That pretty much summed up our current state of political affairs, didn’t it? Now we the people are stuck watching this game between idiots and morons, which we will never really win.  

As for me, I’m going to pray. I’ll read the news once a week to understand the talking points, but I’m going to make a pest of myself to the Big Guy Upstairs and ask Him to let me know if I can do anything to make my country more like “One nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all”. Unless He lays any new ideas on me, I’ll just keep praying. And I’ll vote. I’d suggest y’all do the same.  

God Bless Y’all.  

                                                             He came into our busy lives unexpectedly and made us even busier. With three children already we welcomed this little baby into our family with both joy for the new life and trepidation for the general future. At three kids, we were already outnumbered. When Timothy Sean made it four versus two, we became outmatched. It was on, like Donkey Kong. 

I usually think of Tim as my “exclamation point” kid. He did everything full tilt. Crawling, climbing, running, getting into, through and on top of everything. He ran into this world, and we just chased behind him, trying to catch up. He was also the sweetest kid in the world. His cute little smile, head down, eyes looking sheepishly up at you, as you scolded him for doing something dangerous, would melt your heart. Still, there were very few weeks that went by that he didn’t almost give me a heart attack. I think a few of those moments may have actually qualified as infarctions, anginas, or even arterial spasms. That kid could scare the crap out of you without even trying. My exclamation point, indeed.  

Tim turned thirty-six last Tuesday on Veteran’s Day. It’s fitting that he was born on Veteran’s Day. He served with the U.S. Army in Iraq and Kuwait in the early 2000’s. As proud of him and his service as I am, those were some of the most anxious months of my (and I’m sure his) life. It was hard on him. It still is. He came home, though. That’s the important part.  

When I think of Tim being little, I always remember saying “where’s Tim? Anybody seen Timmy?” a lot. There are a few family videos where you can hear that phrase. He lived his life that way, leaning into whatever he sees as important. People he loves get all of him. He’ll be there for you. Work gets full intensity. Friends know they can count on him. He made me a very tired daddy, chasing after him when I was in my twenties. Those same traits that make him a good man and a better father and husband were being hammered out back then into the man he is today. I’d say it was worth it. 

My grandson, Sammy, is like his dad. He has unlimited energy. He has speed, strength, and stamina. He’s head-strong and stubborn. He’s intelligent and cunning at the same time. He is sweet and charming and can melt your heart with his smile. He can also scare the daylights outta you with his daredevil antics. I love that boy. When I watch Tim chase Sammy, I remember those days with my baby boy. I know how tired you can get, Tim, when you’ve worked all day (or night) and come home to ride herd on a hurricane. All I can tell you for certain, that I know from personal experience, is this: it’s worth it.  

Happy Birthday, Tim! Dad loves you.  

God bless Y’all!