The Upside

 

Experts are saying that inflation has hit Americans harder than expected; if someone did not see this coming, I don’t know why we’d call them an expert.

The feds are definitely going to pull back on bonds in the coming weeks. And in the summer of 2022, interest rates are going to start going up. Houses will be selling like hotcakes through the month of June and then it will begin to slow down. Prices, however, will not be going down. Prices only go down when money is worth as much as the printed value on it; that’s not the case post-inflation.

Incomes will be greatly improved by the summer. This has nothing to do with policymakers pushing for higher, minimum wages; it’s going to be fueled by the demand for workers. Employers who want to survive this transition are going to have to pay much higher wages and give up a lot of their bottom line. The upside to doing so will be the ability to remain viable until inflation catches up with the reset. Absolutely everything is going to cost more; much more. Every retailer or service provider will have to make rationing decisions and slow their own growth so as not to become kindling for the changes in the markets. Wages and prices will need to go up. Any employer who refuses to raise wages will not recover their workforce and without a workforce, they’ll fail.

Home prices will continue to go up. So will everything else. As wages are increased, affordability will meet the new prices. Personal, fiscal growth is still going to be doable, and small companies could capitalize by hiring the best workers while the huge, super-retailers refuse to give up massive profits they typically enjoy by paying very little for products, and paying very low wages.

This could be the end of huge department stores and the beginning of a new kind of opportunity for startups. Quality is key. Hire the best workers and pay them well. Sell the best products and provide the best services and build a strong, small company while the mega-stores struggle to find people who will work for almost nothing.

Just a few years ago, most mom-and-pop companies had to sell out or give up under the pressure of super-chains. I think we may see the opposite scenario taking place soon. Workers are holding out for better wages and consumers are looking for higher quality and better services. These ideas go against everything that makes a mega-store or a monopoly.

This is not gloom and doom… unless you are a Superstore that was doing really well when you could buy really cheap products and have them shipped for very little, while paying your workforce just enough to buy some of the junk you were peddling.

 

 

Navigating

 

I am so thankful to be here. After an illness last week, my entire perspective was jolted. It came just as my dear friend David, was being lowered into the earth. Those events, when coupled, caused a spike in my awareness. While the events are dreadful, I hope I can keep the energy of this spike. It feels so wonderful in my soul.

I think it is a good idea to give the self some things to do. Many of today’s teacher’s call the self; ego. For some reason, I have yet to embrace that. It carries a connotation that maybe the self has to be selfish. This may not be so. I think we may be able to train the self.

When I think of the self now, I think of it as my thing. The self is a subordinate to The I AM. What has only just come to light for me is that the self is very unaware of its status as a servant. The self is not a power-grabber, but all of its thoughts assure it that it is doing everything own its own. One way to think of this is to consider other people you know. Do you feel a separation from yourself and those other selves? You probably do. I know I do. But then, let us consider the category, Life. Are those other people a part of Life? Are you are part of Life? Somehow, while we think of ourselves as individuals, at the same time, we accept the fact that we are also a small part of a bigger picture; whatever that picture is. I am not Everything, but I am a part of It. With this understanding in mind, let us come back to the self and simply observe any self at all. As an Observer, it is very easy to see that every self has its uniqueness. One characteristic present in every self, is the mind in the mechanical room of each self. To say that the mind is unaware is not really fair. It is extremely aware of the functions of itself. However, it is not the duty of the mind to grasp what is “out there”. Think of the self as having been trained to operate the machine that gives it life. It is not unlike legs, hands, eyes and so on. If you have two legs and if you are familiar with walking on them, you can see that it serves you best if your legs only concern themselves with the body perched above them. Can you imagine trying to make your legs aware of other bodies that may also need mobility? Your legs would lose track of their mission and, in their confusion, they’d fail you in order to see what they could do for others. So the self, running all of the controls in the mechanical room of your individual machine, constantly works to keep the machine running. One by one, it will solve problems without worrying about what may exist aside from its machine. In fact, it will actually attempt to put everything in a logical, local category. Give it a word and watch what it does. This can be entertaining. The self in every individual is a decorated soldier. This soldier is trained to be extremely disciplined. The self does not cry. The soldier in you can tell when you are crying; he rolls his eyes and causes your hand to reach for a towel. He sends commands like, “Stop. Focus. Regroup. Straighten up. Get a grip.”

That is his duty to the machine. The self does not care what it is that is making you cry. This proud, decorated soldier calls it a storm and he starts yelling commands to every hand on the ship of your experience. With every surge, the soldier says, “Stay with me; we’ve got to get through this.”

Throughout your life, you will find yourself in waters like this and, if you will observe carefully, you can see the work of the soldier in real time. Your eyes may fill with tears and you may feel tremendous heartache and you may hear yourself saying, “I don’t know why I cannot stop crying.”

In such a moment, you can see two distinct characteristics present within you. One is filled with grief or sympathy or empathy or love. One is building a resistance to these categories as quickly as possible. You’ll notice that there is something about yourself that says, “We cannot remain in this dreadfully raw place and function in this real world.”

At the same time, you will probably notice The I AM saying, “Fine, but the feelings will remain. I’ll just try to spare the self from as much exposure as possible.”

In every case of grief, the self eventually emerges. He has saved his ship. Oftentimes you will hear someone say, “I am still standing!”

When someone says this, they are not saying that they’ve overcome the sadness; they are saying that the machine has been refitted to carry on with the new information.

That’s right; to your soul, it is not just information. Your heart has broken. Your life has changed. There is sadness. But to the self, a few new boards are brought in and a wall is thrown up to hold back the emotional part of this new situation.

You’ll see this in your own experience when a loved one dies. At first, it has the capacity to cripple your ship, but you know you mustn’t allow the situation to take you to the bottom of the sea. In most cases, day by day, you’ll find yourself engaging in routine events again; in spite of the fact that the loss is still very real.

As The Observer you are, you can hover over this situation with The Light of Awareness and you can see how both sides are getting on. Shining the light on the self, you’ll notice new safeguards and supports in place. The self may gather friends and ask for support in order to regain the ship and this is a very good idea. Then if you take the same Lamp and shine it on The I AM, you’ll see that the feelings are all still there. The emotions are there. The I AM is also relying on the support of friends, but It needs and wants to get to The I AM in them. The pain and rawness of the event recolors the water around your ship and it may even appear red to your Awareness. You see this color changing the very Ocean of your own existence and you know it has begun to reshape the entire Ocean forever. The waves will be different now. The tide may be different. Your “I AM” has affected the entire experience for yourself and everyone else; forever and throughout all space. In a case where you’ve lost a loved one, the very buoyancy of your own ship will likely increase; making navigation easier on the self; that determined soldier in your wheelhouse.

This is how our loved ones remain with us forever. In the physical sense, we can observe the ship and notice their absence, but if we allow a look by The Observer in us, we will see our loved one’s impact on The Sea of Life. If we are honest with our mighty soldier, the self, we cannot ignore the changes in The Sea. The self has the data too. That’s why, if you consider the machine you are riding in, you’ll notice more resilience in certain, affected areas. A good soldier will guide you around your own ship and say things like, “See, I made it through that day without tears.” And later on, “I’ve been through a lot and I am stronger as a result.”

These are the words of your captain. Without him, you’ll go mad. Let him do his job. Let him reach for towels and let him have friends. It is not his job to file any kind of emotion at all. It is his job to stop those files from contaminating the machine. That’s healthy and normal. The captain will make yourself stronger.

 

 

 

The Honeybee

COVID-19 is the name of the nemesis. A virus has become the archenemy of the human race. This must be how bugs feel when a pest controller sprays their nests. I don’t know how many times I have sprinkled granules of some kind of poison on an anthill. Don’t you know that as that poison begins to do the trick, there must be panic within the mound? I don’t think ants are as savvy as humans, but I am sure each generation is getting a little closer to catching on to the warning signs of an angry homeowner. Typically, we have to change the method of control once the pests “learn” how to get around our poisons.

We’ve been fighting viruses for centuries. We have probably done our part by chasing them with all kinds of solutions, vaccines, antibiotics and other remedies. If you were a virus, wouldn’t you try to find the right kind of DNA to give your offspring in order for them to survive the stuff humans try to use for control? It’s a match that someone has to eventually lose.

Of course it is very premature to talk about what may come after COVID-19, but if we manage to find some sort of immunity with this virus, the next one may give us more trouble. Of course it could be decades away.

The reality we have yet to accept is that, as humans, we may not always be able to think our way out of something. This is the case with hurricanes and earthquakes. When we heed all of the warnings, we tend to survive many of these enemies, but when a human is blindsided by a storm, it may not be decided by who has the bigger brain.

During this uniquely stressful pandemic, I’ve watched the reactions of all kinds of people and most of our best guesses are not really winning the fight as quickly as we’d like. One with lots of money is accustomed to treating things with money and money does not really seem to solve the underlying concerns if you ask me. Someone with mechanical skills will often begin talking about machines that may help people breathe if they find their own ability to get enough oxygen is just not enough. Someone who cooks will talk about ways to keep people fed. Someone who sells toilet paper seems to fare pretty well for some reason. Scientists are looking for ways to accelerate tests that will get some kind of potential treatment out to humans sooner rather than later. And the tests are happening at an alarming rate, all over the world. Governments are trying to find ways to “flatten the curve”, which is another way of saying, “We may have just as many cases, but over a longer period of time so the hospitals can treat everyone instead of the just the most critical ones.”

Preachers are preaching as usual. Huge companies are laying off employees as a way to mitigate the effect of the virus on the bottom line. Doctors and nurses are doing everything they can do to keep people alive and safe. Teachers are having classes online. Some essential workers are literally risking their lives to keep food production going and shipping. Nursing homes are taking emergency measures to the extreme and people are not being allowed to visit loved ones for now.

We are all doing things differently in order to slow or stop this virus. The thing about COVID-19 is, it really did not seem to come prepared to kill all of its potential hosts. As with most bugs, this virus seems to want to live concurrently with humans. To coronaviruses, a perfect world is one where humans and viruses can live together. It can only be a serious player if it can survive. And this is the most likely scenario. COVID-19 will probably eventually find its way into so much of the herd that it will begin to have less effect. The fact that it is so easily spread seems to suggest that it is trying to pair up with as many hosts as possible in a short period. The effect this virus has on the elderly is extremely dangerous for this portion of our herd. And this is where we refuse to act like buffalo and leave our old ones behind. Thankfully, humans are far more empathetic than most other animals. We don’t leave anyone behind.

But if this virus finds its way into our communities and we’ve kept our elderly away, what is their defense when we begin to mingle again? If the virus learns to coexist with healthier, younger humans, then how will those healthier, younger humans not become lethal to the aged and unhealthy?

Herd immunity will eventually work, except many people will likely die as the fight has to be taken up by stronger, healthier humans. This pandemic is like a pack of wolves chasing our entire herd as I type this note. Way out front, you have those younger, healthier, faster humans running up and into the hills without giving out of breath. Behind them, you have some who are running, but are dealing with the dust from the younger ones and the fear of the wolves they see and hear behind them. Right behind that, behind people my age, you have those people who are over 60 and maybe not quite as swift. Right behind them, you have an enormous group of people who cannot outrun the virus. They are out of breath and many are too unhealthy to keep running. Some are giving up and some are being killed.

Amazingly, the altruism of the human race shows up in the nick of time. Some of the ones who could have outran this enemy have turned around to face it head on. You are seeing them in a staring contest with the virus.  We all have elderly or unhealthy loved ones. We are all determined that the virus can’t take them without a fight and everyone is preparing to fight now. How will this fight ultimately turn out for the herd and its nemesis, COVID-19?

As a senior in this very herd, with a mother who is 85, a father-in-law who is 85 and a mother-in-law who is 80, I’ve begun to stand between the virus and the elderly in my group. As a responsible fighter, I’ve agreed that I can probably risk a little more than my aged loved ones so I place myself a little closer to the frontline where food and necessities can still be had. I bring them to my loved ones and try to avoid any close contact. But I am deeply concerned that I can only delay this disease and not completely prevent it. The flattened models I have seen do not really show us saving the most vulnerable, it seems to show us delaying their infection and their fight. If the front lines do not find a way to kill this virus, it seems to me that the virus will kill some of our elderly population in a wave; now or later.

It may be that the new ventilators will save many of our stronger ones. If they survive it, the virus may be around for decades and it may kill millions as does the flu and cancer. It may be around for the rest of this human period. I may survive this and become somewhat immune to COVID-19 and die of something else later on. It may be that the only possible solution is to build our individual immune systems to fight this thing individually, but what about my mom, father-in-law and mother-in-law?

I think the only hope for them at all is a serum. Whatever the human immune system develops as a cure for this disease, will have to be administered to the elderly. This is the race now. This is the fight now.

Time won’t take care of this. Having the virus running freely within our community will only provide better health for those who are already relatively healthy and fairly young too. But for anyone with any kind of illness or already fighting the disease of age, this virus seems to be the one they cannot beat.

It’s our time to show creation what we are made of. Honey bees are a good example of what our best may well demonstrate during this crisis. We’ve taken note of this coronavirus and we feel threatened. We recognize the enemy’s desire to do harm to our hive, our tribe, our herd. When a honeybee has decided that its hive is being threatened, it finds the enemy and stings if possible. The honeybee does not take this lightly as it knows that it will die after it has stung the assailant. It will take this mindset to defeat this enemy. We will have to fight with a honeybee mindset. You are seeing this today. I am proud of the human race for saying, “No, you cannot take our old people and our unhealthy people without a fight.”

The entire herd seems to have stalled out and turned around to face this thing. It has been a beautiful moment to witness. At first, the youngest ones could not be slowed down. They are too filled with excitement and life. But they saw the middle group stopping and they eventually stopped to look back. We’ve witnessed the tragedy out back, where the oldest ones are being taken down by this enemy, but almost at once, others in the herd began to stand between the virus and the herd. Now it is a standoff. Right now, nobody knows what happens next.

Some people are calling for the herd to carry on. But there is too much love among humans for that. Most people know that if we carry on and do nothing, we will be thinned out and the ones we love will have died for us instead of having it the other way around. It’s a beautiful fact that most humans, when given the choice of dying for someone verses having someone die for us, we choose to die. It is not an easy choice. Life has always been our most valuable possession. I believe many people will be risking their lives in order to fight this disease on the front lines. Some will lose that fight. But I also believe the one thing this virus cannot withstand is a love so great.

This is not the first time this has happened. It happens in every generation. My uncle was on a tractor, in 1939, plowing a field. He had been hearing about the war and how the enemy wanted to take away American freedom. He stepped off of that tractor, walked by his mother and father, on his way to gather a few things and he was off to the train station where he joined 16 million others and became a soldier. His life was not at risk in that garden. But there was no way he was going to allow an enemy to have its way with America.

This is what we do. This is how we are naturally wired. Millions of people are literally risking their lives to save others right now. This is happening all over the world. If the enemy wants a fight, mankind will give it to him. The thing that no enemy is ever really prepared for is The Divine Wind. Today, we are seeing the evidence of this Divine Wind. When you see people risking their lives to save others, there is a Wind behind them and it is Divine. It’s the soldier, the nurse, the doctor, the honeybee and the caregiver.

To answer your question, Jack Johnson, “Where’d all the good people go?” take a look around.

God and the Coronavirus

If I were challenged to explain God’s position on this coronavirus and its effect on our world today, as anyone else, I would likely grapple and wrestle with my thoughts and how to communicate them. But if there was ever a time for anyone to self-examine one’s spiritual convictions, it would be now.

To begin, I would offer a disclaimer to admit that I am a doubter and on my best days, I am not a fundamental believer. In other words, if someone wanted to read about some of the most traditional religious dogmas, I would never be a good source. In my case, I have never been one to promote or encourage the validity of someone else’s views. I have always been on a very personal journey regarding my faith and I never take anyone’s word for what I cannot test for myself. Needless to say, I would not want to depend on a prayer-cloth, purchased from a televangelist, to get us through this pandemic.

I believe the ultimate answer is available for everyone and not just for the few who can muster up the faith to believe it to be so. Love, in a word, is what we can rely on. Whether we’ve accepted a specific religious path or not, the case for Love has been proven over and over. Life is just one thing and we are all expressions of it. The only way through any trial we face as a people, is to respond as a people. We are truly all in this together. If Love is the one thing we know we can rely on, we should trust it to get us through this.

I believe in people in general. I think we will naturally be more inclined to love our neighbors when we learn that more and more of our neighbors may actually need something.

On Tuesday, in Atlanta, Quazavier Dupre was on his way home from work and he saw a house on fire. His work crew was with him and he said their first reaction was to stop and help. Inside the house, they found a man, a woman and a baby. Darrell McClendon said he had to save the family. He has children of his own and was thinking about them. The woman in the house was naked and the men clothed her. The men who stopped to help “neighbors” on the way home from work, saved the family.

Dupree told reporters he was just doing God’s will. Cornell White said he didn’t feel like a hero, but a blessing and he said, “Thank God for that.”

Hearts like that will get us through this. If we see someone in need, we will have an opportunity to help. It’s not that we won’t see smoke, flames and families facing such challenges, but we will see the best in people and we will see people running into dangerous situations to help. Where is God in this pandemic? We can see Him. He’ll look like Quazavier Dupre and his friends.

Howard Ivey Coker July 9, 1930 - August 13, 2019

He smiled and told stories. He sang and played guitar. He drew and he painted fantastic scenes with complex themes. In some ways, Howard Coker was an unremarkable man; and probably the happiest. His favorite quote was, “Time don’t wait on nobody.”

He was in the army and served during the Korean War. He never saw combat but he built pontoon bridges. I never knew where these bridges were or how many he was involved with. The story he told the most was that he’d play anyone’s guitar while taking breaks during boot camp. He did not have one of his own at that time. He told how Elvis Presley gave him a guitar at some point during his early months of training. There is no picture of the guitar. Howard said it was stolen before he even got out of boot camp. Of course I always wondered if this was one of Howard’s “Big Fish” stories, but I always went along.

After the war, Howard came back home to Powder Springs and started working with Tommy Barnes, Ray Padgett and Billy Hall in the landscaping business. One spring day in the early 1970’s, Howard was cutting ivy vines away from a house with a chainsaw. Naturally, the saw got tangled in the vines and he nearly lost his leg as a result. His recovery took over a year and when he did go back to work, Tommy gave him a really easy position as the landscape caretaker of the personal residence of J. Leonard Reinsch, the president and CEO of Cox Communications. The Reinsch family treated Howard like one of their own. Mr. Reinsch would give Howard his retired fedoras, shoes and jackets. Howard worked for Mr. Reinsch for the remainder of his career and one day, he just stopped going in. He had bought some land in Cedartown and decided he’d build a cabin.

Howard shoveled out a hillside by hand and started there with his cinderblock walls. In that back wall, he built in an iron stove for heat. The one room cabin was crude in every way. It had two windows and one, solid door. He still lived in his mother’s home in Powder Springs and he’d drive to Cedartown to work on his cabin once or twice a week. As soon as he managed to get a metal roof up, he’d go up and spend the night. He’d talk about the rain on the roof and how he loved that sound. He found the perfect girl to share the cabin with. Thelma was one of a kind. She was as tough as Howard and she was the only one I ever knew who could keep him in line. I’ll never forget my first trip up to the cabin. There was a lake down below where we fished. While Howard maintained there were catfish in that lake as long as his arm, all I caught was a cold. Bill and I were there that Saturday and it started raining. We sat in the rustic old cabin and listened to the rain on the metal roof. It was as amazing as Howard said. Going home that day, the old green, 1958 Chevy squeaked as Howard tried his best to maneuver the ruts coming down Everett Mountain. The wipers were squeaking too. With the rain and wind, it almost seemed as if we were out at sea. At the foot of the mountain, we came upon two long-haired hippies staring under the hood of an even older car than Howard’s. Of course Howard pulled over to see if he could help. They tried to get their car going but it was no use. The two hippies, dripping wet, climbed into the back seat with Bill and me. I was terrified. I think Bill was too. As soon as Howard started rolling again, one of the hippies leaned forward and reached into his back pocket. I looked over at Bill and he looked at me. I’ll never forget the look Bill gave me. We were both considering whether we should open the door and just roll out right there. Thankfully, it was a comb and not a knife.

Howard carved and painted and drew. He allowed nature to reclaim his old cabin. A few blocks remain to this day. He spent several years in the old home-place. He rode his bicycle everywhere he went and he was a familiar sight around Powder Springs. So much so that he inspired our local historian to write a story about him. He was harassed for riding his bicycle on the sidewalk once. Myra called one of her friends at The Powder Springs Police Department. He assured her that Howard would be an exception and he was allowed to ride on the sidewalk from then on.

After many joyful years in the old farm-house, Howard’s mental health finally declined to the point where he could no longer take care of himself. Myra and I found a nice facility for him and we oversaw his care as much as possible through the years. A few years ago, I took Susan by to see him and I asked, “Howard, do you remember Susan?”

“I remember Susan Hayward.” Was his reply.

We got the call yesterday evening. Myra and I headed to Cedartown. On our way, we noticed lightening in the distance. When we arrived, the power was out at the facility and two workers came out to the parking lot with flashlights. Walking in with us, they told us that the power went out the very moment Howard died. We made our way to his room and one of the flashlights revealed that his clock had stopped at midnight or noon. Either way, I think it was Howard’s way of saying that sometimes, time does stop.

After making some arrangements, we headed out and there on the sidewalk, watching the power crew working on the lines, was an elderly man on a bicycle. What an odd thing to see in the middle of the night. I saw it. Myra saw it. I don’t know; but it gave us comfort. 

Paperwork

I hate taxes and paperwork the way a fourth-grader hates homework. It is agony to me. It is damn near painful. In fact, if you said I could get out of ever doing any kind of paperwork ever again if I would just agree to drive spikes on a new rail system, I believe you would be calling me John Henry in no time. And, like John Henry, there would soon be a death and then a legend. And, as with Henry, there would be so many legends that you would never know the truth about what happened to me as a result of hating paperwork. The legend of Mark Coker would serve as a lesson for young people who want to get out of paperwork. Grownups would assume that if they told the story of Mark Coker, and how he died an untimely death because of his reluctance to take paper and ink in hand, they’d be more apt to follow through with their paperwork and finish clerical and contractual jobs. Ah, but anyone who hates paperwork as much as me would not be swayed by any such warnings. They’d follow me to their own early graves just so they too could get out of paperwork.

Look, it is a lot like cleaning windows or painting walls in a stranger’s home. You know they won’t be happy so why do it?

I remember Joshua Burkett, who now tours and plays guitar for one Sam Hunt. When he was but a little boy, I dated his mother, Karen. He hated paperwork so much that it was obvious agony whenever asked to do his homework. You could tell that his his pain was as real any pain endured by any measure of torture. Josh would hurt less when he crashed his bike and landed on the concrete driveway. Homework was horrifying to him. I get it. But when Josh got a guitar, he had no problem figuring out how to chord a minor or a seventh. He learned how to bar-chord and play lead. His timing improved with much practice and he finally found himself onstage with some of the south’s finest musicians.

I’ll tell you why John Henry wanted to go against that steam-driller in the first place: they brought the shiny, new machine to the tunnel there in Virginia and asked him to look carefully at the instructions which were printed on several pages. Like me, John Henry looked at the instructions and then he looked at his hammer and said, “Screw it! Give me my hammer.”

What A Ride

It was called The Dahlonega Mine Train, and at five, my first roller coaster ride was with my dad. I was barely old enough to get on. I recall it being debatable as the worker stood me up to the sign that said, “You must be this tall to ride this ride.”

I knew I could not tiptoe, but I stood as straight as I could, trying to make my spine stretch like a Slinky. Daddy was wearing his khaki pants and a matching shirt, his dark glasses and a hat. I cannot really remember standing in the line, but I remember getting in the car that would jerk and rattle us around the track. I was terrified. The worker pushed the bar down to our laps and I held on for dear life. The ride started with a jolt and then it was up a small incline, “Click-click-click-click…” and then the clicking stopped. Almost silently, the train felt as if it were in freefall, but in those days, the fall was more gradual. Next, it was into a curve. As I recall, the first curve put me all the way against my dad, but the next turn was an extreme turn that would cause him to slide into me. I was pinned, if only for a moment, by the weight of my grown papa. And then, in the next jerk to the right, I was back in his space again. It was a painful ride. My dad swore he’d never get on another roller coaster in his life; that was a promise he would keep.

As a little boy, I could not have known anything about the life that was in store for me. Not that my experiences were all that uncommon, but I was barely tall enough to experience the clicking of that first incline, when I would go and sit beside Uncle Roy’s bedside. We would whisper to each other because Uncle Roy could not speak above a whisper in his final days. He was my first buddy in life. I got off the bus on Tuesday afternoon, February 16, 1971, and I went to see him as usual. I sat my books down on the old glider and noticed a lot of people around, but had no idea why. Going into the living room of my grandmother’s old house, I said, “I’m going to see Roy.”

All of the womenfolk burst out in tears all at once, but nobody knew what to say to me. They didn’t have to tell me. I was only seven, but I knew this was freefall number one.

Later that same year, I found myself in the first hard turn. Myra and Bill had a secret. They’d been snooping around in Mom’s room and found some diapers and other baby-related things. I can still see them, taking turns cupping their sneaky little hands to each other’s ears. Mom was well into her third trimester when she finally told me that I was going to have a brother or a sister pretty soon. In 1971, I lost a wonderful uncle and gained a great brother, but at the time, both events seemed like tragedies to me. I wasn’t the baby of the family anymore.

In May of 1973, Grandma Coker slipped away and I stood by her casket with my Dad. I saw a tear slowly falling down his cheek. It was the only tear he would ever shed in my presence. It was when I realized that my Dad was not quite invincible. We were in another hard curve and this time, Daddy was the one sliding.

It seems like life really sped up from then on. Some moments have been terrifying while others are filled with relief and even laughter. That’s life. What a ride. The climbs seem to take forever and the falls seem to happen way too fast. It can be a painful ride, but thrilling at the same time.

Yesterday, I found myself standing in the shade of the pines that surround The Dahlonega Mine Train. I propped on the wooden fence that kept me out, but I looked in and I thought about the ride I got on fifty years ago. It’s all planned out better than it seems to be. As the “philosopher” Joe Walsh said, “As you live your life, it appears to be anarchy and chaos, and random events, non-related events, smashing into each other and causing this situation or that situation, and then, this happens, and it’s overwhelming, and it just looks like what in the world is going on ? And later, when you look back at it, it looks like a finely crafted novel. But at the time, it don’t.”