Posted February 9, 2020 Midsummer 1953, my friend Tommy and I knew farmers were hiring kids to work in tobacco, so we made a plan.  We’d see Crosby, and ask for jobs.               Bright-eyed and cheerful, Crosby was one of the rare adults that we children called by his first name.  He was a regular at our Methodist…

Read More Read More

            January 8, 2020. Our early morning hunt was not successful, we had no deer to pull out, skin and dress.  We were simply father and son, enjoying the mid-morning warmth and gazing over Mr. Shaw’s withered garden.              Daddy talked quietly as I eyed engraving on the  L. C. Smith double-barrel cradled in the crook of his arm.  Shifting…

Read More Read More