In Junior high, was there anything more humiliating, scary and so full of life lessons than the gym class? By the time I hit high school, they had renamed it Physical Education. Physical Education is a much better term because we received education in so many valuable lessons and life skills; life skills that we would apply in our everyday world. I’m of course talking about things like learning how to propel myself up a 30 foot rope made of horsehair and then there was the lesson about how to obtain the self-inflicted rope burns on the inside of our thighs. The intention of this lesson, of course, was to teach us methods of applying Vaseline to ourselves or to learn how to walk like cowboys. I remember how proud I was the day I figured out that I could climb the rope in gym (hint: if you had skinny arms like me, the trick was to have clean sneakers able to grab the rope so your legs could do the work). Continue reading
The big news on television these past many days has been the shootings in a Charleston church attended by blacks, the shooter of course was some misled white kid. People are calling it a racist hate crime and calling for the removal of the Confederate flag above the state’s capital building.
When I write these stories, I usually try to figure out what the tale will be before I write; sort of a mental outline. Sometimes there might also be an underlying theme or learning lesson. I think the underlying theme on this one is going to be the topic of blacks and whites embracing each other, (or at least not killing each other). Hold on, hold on…before you click on the ‘Back’ button, read some more please. I’ll try to keep this tale light, (and hopefully, sometimes funny). Keep in mind that this story’s written by a guy who grew up in a family that was about as diversified as they can get in Hamiltucky.