My Life As A Hobby

My son Matt being released from Federal prison.  I finally decided it’s time for me to write this story. Why not? I’ve been telling it to people for years. It never fails to amaze them and give them hope. So I thought that if I shared it on a larger platform, It might give more people hope which is something that seems to be in short supply right now.  It’s about one of the lowest points in my life. It’s about the time when my oldest son’s drug addiction and poor choices almost brought about his own death. It’s about two parents barely hanging on. And, it’s about the time God clearly spoke to me, in the midst of my angst.   First, some personal  background on God and me.   I am a believer. But in my early forties, I began to have doubts about what was put forth in the Bible. It was hard to rectify science and what the ancient texts said,at least in my mind.  I had no idea where these books even came from.  Rather than completely dismiss the Scriptures, or just

Today I almost stepped on a snake during my morning walk. For those of you who think an overweight 66 year old man can’t jump, I beg to differ. Put me in the path of a snake, and I will show you a vertical leap that would make LeBron James proud. Followed closely by a high stepping dance and a scream so shrill you would think came from a falsetto opera singer. Later in the day I told a friend about my early morning encounter. He asked me, “What kind of snake was it?” This is the standard question you get from anyone when you recount a snake story. Like I care. It was a snake. I don’t know the variety. Let’s just say it was copper-headed rattle moccasin. That should about cover it. Look, I know there are good snakes, but I can’t get there. I hate snakes. Hate them.  God said snakes are bad and that’s good enough for me.  And they scare me. If I run over a dead one in my car, I raise my legs up. Of course there are people who like them. Some of them even o

It’s a miracle my dogs made it to my house.  To continue the celebration of my dog’s rescue, this is another repost of the entire story I wrote about them last September when they both turned one.  As I discovered, it’s a miracle this brother and sister team made it though last winter, much less to my family.   My  two  dogs , Reese and Roscoe,  turn ed   1 year  old  last  month.  To say it’s  been an eventful year for them  is like saying the Mona Lisa is a nice painting .  The fact that they are happy and healthy in my home now is almost a miracle. For those who don’t know, I’ll give a recap.   Before the pups were even born,  their pregnant Mom  was dropped on a county road by some  degenerate posing as a human.     So  it’s not overstating the facts to say the odds were stacked against them before they even set a paw in this world.  Fortunately, a kind family took in the Mom, and tended to everyone after she gave birth to the litter.   My pups  watched as their brot

Roscoe and Reese now.  Note the bed.  So good of them to let us sleep in it.  Roscoe and Reese one year ago.   It’s hard to believe that tomorrow will be one year since we took two stray dogs off a major highway and put them in our home.  Now Reese and Roscoe are part of the family.  And there is no doubt that even with all of the chewed furniture, gnawed shoes, and beat down backyard trails, our house has been a happier place.  Now there’s more laughter than there’s been in a while.  Even with their quirks, these dogs have come to love us as much as we love them.   In honor of this occasion, I’m going to re-post some things I wrote about the pups when we first got them.  If you have read these posts, well,  read them again.  I know most of you watch reruns of the Andy Griffith Show.  Stray No More - originally posted On March 26, 2019 On a two lane highway headed back from Smith Lake, my son spotted them.  A black and white bird dog mix with a terrier as his r

Sometimes in your life, you do something so incredibly idiotic, so spectacularly stupid, that even though you’re embarrassed you did it, you think that it should be written down for posterity.  This is one of those stories.    Ummmm...ok, in truth, my wife Carol reminded me that I did it, and threatened to write this story if I didn’t.  So here goes.  It was December of 1972 and I had been dating Carol for six months.  It was the end of the first semester and we were out of school for about 3 weeks. So, what should two college students with a lot of time on their hands and no money do?  Go to the mall, of course.  Maybe we could scrape up enough cash  for gas money and a trip to McDonalds.  Student nirvana.  I headed to her house to pick her up at the appointed time, and of course she wasn't ready.   So while I waited on the primping, I decided it would be a good idea to quickly wash my car.  It had rained for a few days, and I figured I could get some of the road gr

If I had to rank all the unforgettable characters in my life, my grandmother on my Dad’s side would be in the top 10.  And it’s not for the reasons you might expect.   We called her Momee.  You know the sweet, doting grandmothers you see in those old holiday specials?  That was not her.  Nowhere  close.   In fact, even though I loved her, I was a little scared of her.  It probably has something to do with an event that happened when I was about 4 years old.  For whatever reason, I decided it would be a good idea to hide from Momee in her front yard.  I didn’t  answer her calls as she walked back and forth calling my name.  After about 15 minutes,  I came out of hiding, and sauntered in the back door, expecting my relieved grandmother to pick me up, tearfully hug me, and give me a cookie. Wrong.  She took one look at me, hung up the phone (she was calling the police), and went straight to a cabinet in her laundry room. Then she got out a paint stick and beat my butt. It was such a b

I’m getting goosebumps just thinking about it,  even though it happened many years ago. I still marvel how the memory of something like this can have such an effect on me.  I remember it clearly;  it was the first night when I got a taste of what it’s like to be a big time entertainer.  I had been doing stand up for a few years, progressing along at a pretty good clip, considering  I still had a “day job”.  Comedy Club owner Bruce Ayers had developed enough confidence in me to start booking me in corporate gigs.  These are well paying jobs, coveted by all comedians.  So when “Comedy Club” showed up on my phone, I picked up immediately.  It usually meant money in my pocket. Today’s call was a bit different, however.  Bruce spoke,  “Hey Vern (back then, everyone was Vern), what are you doing next Saturday nite?  I might have a thing for you.” Thing was the comedy code word for a paying gig.  “It doesn’t pay a whole lot, but it will be great exposure for you.  The Temptat