This story was written a few years ago by my distant relative, Dr. E.O. Lester, about my great-grandfather. E.O. visits the blog from time to time, so if you enjoy this story, leave him a comment at the bottom of this page.
Today would’ve been the 71st.
Hey, Pop. I haven’t talked to you in a while, and I just want to say hi and see how you’re doing. I know you’re doing well, though. Continue reading
I’d just finished a couple chocolate chip cookies and was rolling past the phone on the wall by the kitchen door when it rang. Immediately, I knew there was bad news coming even though nobody had answered yet. Mom hopped up to grab it, and I continued down the hall as if I could run away from whatever it was. “How is he?” and, “What do I need to do?” were the two things I heard Mom say into the phone that let me know my premonition was accurate.
I took a break from everything Saturday and spent the day at the farm doing a bunch of not much. Before lunch, mom and dad scurried around picking vegetables, hoeing, and fertilizing the garden- which is looking pretty good so far this year. Continue reading
The Noyes House
A few weeks ago, I asked one of my distant cousins, E.O. Lester, who has an exceptional knowledge of Vance family history, about an old house, always referred to by my grandparents as the old Noyes house, Continue reading
I couldn’t write this without coloring the topic with my perspective no matter how hard I tried. But, after a dozen attempts to do so, I remembered that this blog is the view from my seat. It doesn’t have to be apolitical. As much as I am always going to try to be neutral on political issues, I won’t always achieve that goal, but I will do my absolute best to share my perspective without pointed attacks on anyone else or their ideology. You don’t have to agree with me, and I expect there are lots of folks that won’t, but remember that I am sincere and my views are shaped by my experiences just like yours.
I’m from Mississippi, in case you didn’t already know that. In fact, both sides of my family, going back at least three generations on both sides, are Mississippians. I love where I’m from, and I love where I am. I also hate where I’m from, and I hate where I am.
These days I feel more like Mr. Scrooge than Buddy the Elf. While I have no real disdain toward the secularized part of Christmas, in those immortal words of BB King, the thrill is gone. I’m not sure when it left or where it went, but the anticipation and excitement of the season was replaced with stress and responsibilities at some point.
Maw and Pop were my grandparents on my mother’s side. They were both born in the late 1920’s, grew up in the Murphy Creek community about 9 miles east of Louisville in Winston County, graduated from high school at the Bond Continue reading
One Saturday this past fall, I was sitting on my parents’ back porch watching college football with my dad. After an especially untimely interception thrown by our quarterback, I had to avert my attention from the disaster unfolding on the TV. So, I turned my back to the train wreck and lit a cigar hoping it would soothe my frustration with the game. Continue reading