My Life As A Hobby

It wasn’t a Red Ryder like the one in Christmas Story, but there was a time in my young life when, like Ralphie, I just had to have a BB gun. Why my parents would even think about getting me one is still beyond belief ; but when I consider that my father was a chemist who brought me anything I wanted from his laboratory, I shouldn’t have been surprised.  What’s a few BBs when he’s supplying me with sulphuric acid?   So on Christmas morning of my12th year, I discovered a Daisy BB gun underneath the tree.   It was beautiful. It looked like one of the Winchesters you would see in an old John Wayne movie.  Daisy called the model 1894 “a spitting image” of the gun that won the west. And it certainly won our neighborhood.  The 1894 had more power than the Red Ryder.  It would hold 50 BBs in the chamber and shoot them as fast as you could cock the lever.  And I shot plenty. Squirrels and chipmunks ducked for cover when they saw me coming.  It wasn’t long before I began using the 1894 for

  Dreamland - an ultimate BBQ joint.  I love me some BBQ. That’s because I’m southern, and it’s the law.  If you cut me, I will probably bleed smoky, sweet, red sauce. Any kind of meat is fine, but I have a strong lean toward pork ribs. I firmly believe a properly barbecued pigsicle can change your life faster than a Baptist preacher’s sermon.  I’m also a big believer in Alabama barbecue.  It’s very underrated.  I’ve been to places like Memphis, St. Louis, Kansas City, and North Carolina - Alabama ‘cue more than stands up to any of it. Sorry, Lewis Grizzard. I will eat BBQ anywhere, but my favorite places are always the joints.  For those of you that don’t know, a BBQ restaurant is not a BBQ joint. Let me elaborate. Once I ate in a BBQ establishment in Kansas City that had white tablecloths. It was decent ‘cue, but white tablecloths?  Just a few miles away was another place that had a policeman patrolling the parking lot and an old screen door in front. That, my friends is a joint

  My last photo of Mom taken just before her accident.  Christmas is known as the season of light. It’s the time of year when Christians all over the world celebrate the birth of the light in the person of Jesus. That’s why our home and trees are illuminated – it’s a reference to the light God gave us in a world of increasing darkness.  However, there are a few times in your life when you are fortunate enough to see a glimpse of The True Light.  This is one of those times.  This is my story. I was backstage at the Comedy Club, waiting to do a holiday show, when the owner burst into the green room.  He told me my mom had been in a wreck and I needed to get to the hospital immediately. I ran to my car.  All manner of thoughts began racing through my mind as I raced downtown.   I bolted in the emergency room and saw my sister, Paula, who was sitting between my aunt and a young black woman. Paula stood up, escorted me to a corner and told me everything she knew.  It wasn’t good.  So