My Life As A Hobby

  My youngest son is thinking about taking his girls to Disney. At last!  I have waited patiently for years for him to have children and take them to the land of the mouse. Finally, revenge will be mine.  I’ve been to Disney a couple of times, but it’s been a little while.  And from what I hear, a lot of things have changed. They like to call it the Magic Kingdom now.  That’s an appropriate name. It’s magic all right.  Once you get inside the gates hundreds of dollars start vanishing into thin air. Now you wear a wrist band to pay for everything so you don’t even realize that you’re near bankruptcy until you get back to the hotel room.  I’m not a big conspiracy theory guy, but I do believe that Disney is part of a plot our enemies have created to destroy the very fiber of the American family. Let me explain: they have so much stuff to do at those parks that you can’t see it all unless you stay a month and spend about half a million dollars. But ...

Like the rest of the sports world, and maybe the whole world, I’ve been watching Tiger Woods. Everyone’s paying attention to his play at the Masters.  Considering what he’s been through, all of this is quite amazing.  The fact that Tiger is even walking is unbelievable. And to watch him actually play golf is unthinkable.  He has said that we can’t imagine what he’s gone through to get here.  I agree.   As we soon learned after his automobile accident, Tiger came  close to losing his life, and very close to losing a leg. I believe if the person in that accident had been anyone but Tiger Woods, their leg would’ve been amputated. And let’s don’t forget he had major back surgery in December.  After the accident, Tiger spent 3 months in a hospital just trying to relearn basic motions.  And now a little over a year after his release, he’s playing golf in the Masters. Hollywood couldn’t write a story like this.  I think the accident ha...

    Its Masters week. Holy Week for golfers. And I am completely smitten by the whole thing.  From the legendary golf course, to the azaleas, to the pimento cheese sandwiches - I love it all.  When they have the Masters Jacket Ceremony on Sunday, I will have tears in my eyes.  For those of you who aren’t familiar with this iconic sports ritual, I’ll explain. Right after a winner has been decided, everyone heads to the famous Butler Cabin where last year’s winner presents the new champion a green jacket.  Kind of a coronation with golf spikes.  And it gets to me.  It’s not just the tinkly piano music, or the air of casual reverence, or the players who get choked up about winning golf’s greatest tournament.  That certainly contributes.  But I always get emotional because some of the best memories of my Dad involve watching the Masters with him.  I’ve joked for years that my Father preferred Masters Sunday to Thanksgiving and Christmas...

  I’ll admit that I have done a lot of embarrassing things in my life.  And the vast majority of them were self inflicted.  I’ve walked into a sliding glass door because I didn’t see it.  In high school, I fell off a bridge into a ditch because I wasn't looking where I was going.   As an adult I’ve run over a street sign because I didn’t pay attention. But the one I’m about to tell you wasn’t my fault. I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.  A victim of circumstance to be sure.    Many years ago, our church had a summer picnic. It was at a place called Zamora, a beautiful piece of property nestled in the hills just northeast of Birmingham. It was perfect for gatherings.  There were large pavilions with tables where little old church ladies put out  casseroles that could raise your cholesterol 40 points by just smelling them.  There were also flowing fields, and a pretty fishing lake. But of all of the amenities at Zamora, I ...