I was born in the South on a summer day in July with the cicadas serenading me. I spent my early years in North Carolina enjoying the sweltering heat of the summer and the refreshment of a cold RC Cola, and the frigid depths of our 70 degree winters where I was worried I would get my tongue stuck to a flag pole like the kid in that movie. My family taught me the two most important lessons of life I ever learned, which are how to laugh and how to love.
I went to public schools where I had a teacher that danced in class, a principal that danced on tables and friends who put dead possums in water fountains. Upon matriculation, I succeeded in attending about every university or college in the south east because I could not figure out which one I liked the best. At these fine institutions they expected me to go to these things called classes, which I always seemed to miss.
I loved and hated religion and was a member of countless congregations from North Carolina to Mississippi but settled on none. I started traveling to Florida on a weekly basis and fell in love with the water and sun. I joined the Gator Nation and listened to Bubba the Love Sponge, Power Pig Hello! Time flew by and I found myself sent to a foreign land where Yankee dust piles up high during something that they called winter. I learned the true definition of the phrase, hell has frozen over. Like a Southerner, I still miss Lewis, before me I was held prisoner of war in Chicago. I was one of the lucky ones and I got weekend reprieves to come home and visit with the understanding that I would return at the beginning of the new week and I did for years.
I finally returned to Thomasville on a full time basis when I figured out that the best direction you can travel on I 65 was south. Heaven rejoiced as I reconnected my Southern roots. I took various jobs from selling books, managing this or that to making furniture. I have built a web site or two along the way and even managed to write a few books. The best occupation I ever had though was when I had no occupation at all and was free to enjoy the simple things in life that usually get overlooked. That is when you begin to wonder how you ever really had time for a job in the first place. You never seem to get anything done there is so much to do.
I have realized that no matter what job I have it does not define me. I am content to sit at Beggars Tomb (yes, it is a real place) surrounded by my dogs, my books, dabbling in photography, enjoying nature, wondering what Susann is making for supper (hopefully not fried or the sawbones will squawk), and where the biggest crisis of my day is that the ice cubes in my vodka and cranberry melt too fast.