Touching Them All

This video speaks for itself. And for the record it made this big ole' boy cry.

Some Things Never Change

A lot has changed since May 9, 1972.

For one thing, the daughters of Ralph Rudolph Underwood have grown a little older. Their ages were 22, 17 and 6 the day their dad suddenly died exactly 36 years ago today.

Just in case they have internet access in heaven, I wanted to post this picture today. A couple of weekends ago I caught his three girls and his great grandbaby sitting on a bench that was placed in the city park in his memory.

I knew exactly when I wanted to use it.

A lot HAS changed since 1972, but some things never change. One of those things is the love a daughter has for her dad. Those relationships could be the most special on earth.

And in his memory and their honor, his son in law gives them to you on the anniversary of the day they will never forget.

He would be one proud hombre.

The Flavor of Chattanooga

(Chattanooga) I am in town this week for meetings with a group of folks from about nine states. Although the meetings make for long days, our host as made sure the evenings will be something to remember. And all of us are getting to taste the local flavor of Chattanooga.

Monday night the taste was something I will definitely remember. And if I’m still breathing I plan to taste it again. The place is called Sugar’s Ribs. Without a doubt they are the best ribs I ever eaten in my life…. and I have eaten a few. I think I mentioned another rib place in a blog in the past, but this is the best. If you are looking for elegant atmosphere, this is not your place. You just pull up and chair and grab a few paper towels from the center of your table and dive in. And you laugh and enjoy the waitress as she dances around the room and sings loudly with the jukebox while she delivers your food and describes the sauces. Sugar’s Ribs is Chattanooga at its best.


Tonight we visited the best kept secret in Chattanooga. It is called the Warehouse. There are no brochures, no advertisements and no website promoting this unique place. But there is plenty of entertainment to go around for everybody. In fact, our group had the place to ourselves. And the magic of the entertainment was that we were the entertainment. You would never know the singing group shown here (made up of my business associates) actually have day jobs. But thank God they do because they would go broke if they had to sing with each other for a living.

In my estimation when you leave a place and your jaw and belly are sore from laughing, it has been an evening well spent.

The more I experience the flavor of Chattanooga, the more I like it. And since I have a couple more nights here there will be more to come. As you can see I have my camera with me so please stay tuned.

More Memories at a Very Special Place

I spent some quality time with my oldest son this weekend. And it was like I went back in time to do it. It was back to the Reynolds Golf Club where I spent so much time as a boy with my dad. And where I have a ton of memories on every tee and every green in every fairway and every sand trap and at every pine tree.

In 1987 when my wife and I had been married 10 years and all three of our boys had been born, I was playing number nine one afternoon and noticed a “For Sale” sign going up at the Bond house that sat on that fairway. Within a couple of weeks we had a contract on that house. We lived there for the next 16 years and our boys grew up with our yellow lab named Abby on that golf course. And another generation of memories was created.


Bucky Johnson (pictured here with David and me) and his family lived on the other side of the golf course during those years. He and his family make up a huge part of those memories. He spent as much time with my boys as I did. And they never forgot it.

This year the Reynolds Golf Course was on the verge of closing. A group of interested citizens have worked feverishly and tirelessly the last few months to make sure that did not happen. They have had financial support from local businesses and individuals. This weekend they held a golf tournament to raise more funds for that effort. I am very glad we played.


I should mention here that my friend Bucky and his partner won at 22 under par for the 36 hole tournament. That ain’t bad on any golf course. I should also mention that Bucky brought in a ringer to assist him. Bucky and Jill’s second daughter, Anna, is on the softball team at Mercer University. Her boyfriend, Ryan, is on the golf team at that same university. Ryan can crush a golf ball. As you can see, he has also excelled in the girlfriend department.

The Reynolds Golf Club came to life this weekend. Hopefully there will be much more to come and it will stay alive. They raised a few needed dollars to make it a little better. And we had fun playing a game I seldom get to play anymore.

But more importantly, this dad and his oldest son created more memories at a very special place that will undoubtedly last a lifetime.

Southern Roots

I’m not exactly sure of the year but sometime in the early seventies Gary Oliver from Oxford NY made his first trip to Reynolds, GA. He has made a ton of trips since that day. He came to Reynolds to spend the weekend and to meet the parent s of his girlfriend, Nancy Whatley. Both Nancy and Gary were students at the University of Georgia.

Nancy’s parents, Ed and Rosemary Whatley, had to attend a function out of town that Friday night on his first trip and they asked my dad and mom who lived next door to welcome Gary to Reynolds and make him feel at home until they could get back that night. That was definitely right up my daddy and mama’s alley.

I don’t think Gary had ever met anyone quite like my dad. Daddy loved the fact he was from New York and had a different accent so Gary got the full treatment. And since my dad was an avid golfer, he also loved the fact that Gary played on the University of Georgia golf team. They hit it off quickly and became great friends.

Gary and Nancy also hit off as well and got married a couple or so years later.

One of the groomsmen who was supposed to be In their wedding had an emergency at the last minute and could not make it to the wedding. Being the good neighbor, I took his place. Not only did I take Gary’s friend’s place at the wedding but I also took his place at the bachelor’s party the night before.

Trying to exhibit the best southern hospitality possible, the groomsmen took Gary on the outskirts of town the night before the wedding and took his clothes off and left him on a dirt road. Of course we told the night policeman what we were doing and asked him to join in our little prank. So when Gary’s buck naked self came sneaking back in town in an attempt to get back to the Whatley’s house, the policeman picked him up for indecent exposure. We were across the street from the City Hall when Gary was taken out of the back of the police car with a sheet (provided by the policeman) wrapped around him. Gary, not knowing the policeman was in on our prank, was trying to explain to the policeman that he was marrying Dr. Whatley’s daughter and his friends did this to him for his bachelor’s party. We heard the policeman reply, “I don’t know a Dr. Whatley.”

We laughed but Gary got the next laugh.

About 4AM I was awakened by a bucket of cold water being poured on my face. I was asleep on the sofa in my Mama’s formal living room. Gary could not have cared less at that point if he ruined the sofa or not. It would be safe to say I woke up rather quickly.

Gary, being the good natured fellow he is, took it all in stride. But after he broke out from head to toe with poison ivy on their honeymoon, I did make sure he was not invited to my bachelor’s party a few years later. I have no doubt that Gary would have gone to great lengths to see if I was as good natured as he had been a few years earlier.

When Gary moved from Oxford, NY to attend the University of Georgia, he never went back home. Of course he visited from time to time but he quickly settled in the south and blended right in with the rest of us.

In a few weeks Gary and Nancy are scheduled to enter the ranks of the grandparent club.

And Gary's southern roots will run as deep as they can get.

You've Got to Know When to Run

(Lake Charles, LA) After a long week of meetings in Houston I am making my way back home but stopped off here to attend a function and speak at a luncheon on Friday. My plan is to get home late Friday and one of my sons and me will play in a golf tournament this weekend.

My co-worker booked me a room at the L’auberge Hotel and Casino tonight which is a huge hotel with several restaurants, stores and a wonderful dessert store. Not to mention a very popular casino. My friend is a card carrying member of this place so he was able to secure a very cheap room. Actually the room isn’t cheap but is very nice. In other words it cost very little money but they plan to get their money other ways.

I brought my bag to the room and decided to go downstairs to eat and at least walk through the place. I ate at the buffet and made a point not to eat too much because I saw the dessert bar on the way to the buffet.

After eating dinner I decided to walk through the casino. I had a twenty dollar bill in my pocket and decided to donate it to the casino. I watched a few folks and looked at a few machines trying to figure the one to which I wanted to donate my twenty dollars.

After several attempts to put my Andrew Jackson in the little slot, I finally got it to work. I sat there nonchalantly (trying to look cool and blend in with the crowd) and began pushing the buttons. I got down to about $4 and all of a sudden I won $88. I immediately cashed out and got a redemption ticket for that amount. Since I had been sitting there less than five minutes, I put the ticket in my front pocket, took another twenty dollar bill and found another machine. After about four turns, I hit the jackpot for another $198. I couldn’t believe it but I cashed in again and put another redemption ticket in my front pocket. Since I was on a roll I took another $20 bill and found another machine. It just a couple of minutes I won another $38. Without hitting another button I cashed out again.

This time I went straight to the machine and cashed in my tickets. Kenny Rogers’ song was ringing in my ears when I walked out of the casino and headed to my room. “You’ve got to know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away and know when to run.”

I ran with the cash.

I wasn’t exactly sure how it added up because I remembered that “you don’t count your money sitting at the table cause there’ll be plenty time for counting when the dealing’s done.”


So after I stopped by for a piece of the Jack Daniels chocolate cake, I made it back to my room and did some quick counting and figuring. I had spent $60 to win $324 and had exactly $264 more dollars in my pocket than I did when I walked in the casino. That’s not bad for a guy who has never even bought a lottery ticket.

To ease my conscious for the illicit monetary gain, I tipped the lady $5 at the dessert store. And I think I made a new friend.

Now I know why the line is so long in the lottery ticket line at the convenience store. In spite of my winnings tonight, you still won’t find me in that line.

You’ve got to know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em, know when to walk away and know when to run.

She Never Got Over It

I ran into an old friend at the Strawberry Festival on Saturday. I don’t see her often but every time she sees me she starts laughing. This time I decided to capture the moment.

Connie grew up in a suburb of Reynolds called Potterville. You may know it as Taylor Mill. I’ve known her all her life. I knew her dad and mom and her uncles and her aunts and her whole family. Being the town undertaker you get to know a lot of folks rather well.

I’m not sure how many years ago it was but it was at least a dozen. It was a Saturday and I had two funerals scheduled that day and it was as cold as cold can get. There was an estate sale at the Irene Whatley place in Reynolds that had been advertised for weeks. I decided to go by first thing that morning to check out what they had for sale.

I was definitely the only person there in a suit. Only an undertaker with a funeral scheduled that day would wear their Sunday go to meeting clothes to an estate sale. As I walked around the yard that day looking at stuff I was about to freeze to death. I don’t think I had ever been so cold.

The auctioneer had a few large heaters in the yard that people would gather around to thaw out. Connie and I found ourselves gathered around the same heater that morning. My feet were so cold they were numb. In fact they were so cold that I took my shoe off and put my foot in front of the heater as I made small talk with Connie. After a couple of minutes I told Connie that I smelled something burning. We looked down and both of us saw smoke coming from my foot. About three seconds later I felt the pain. Real pain.

I limped through a couple of funerals that day. Actually I limped for a week or two after that day. I got over the burn. But Connie never got over it.

Without exception every time I see her she starts laughing. And she remembers her crazy undertaker nearly burning his foot off.

That's the stuff of which friendships are formed.

Only a Memory

Everybody has a hero when they are a kid. In fact you may be somebody’s hero and you don’t even know it. And the opportunity to be someone’s hero is probably a short term thing.

Yesterday I ran into my childhood hero at the Strawberry Festival in my home town.

I have written here that when I was growing up in Reynolds the people of Reynolds supported the community. The community consisted of church, the Kiwanis Club, the Woman’s Club, the local businesses and the school.

Reynolds High School was more than an institution. It was the center of activity in town. I have fond memories of the Halloween Carnival that was held each year right in the halls of the high school. I remember going to piano recitals when the auditorium upstairs at the high school would be completely full. The entire community came to support the kids in the recital.

But when I think of growing up I always think first of the basketball games at Fickling Gymnasium at Reynolds High School. Our team was the Reynolds Tigers – purple and gold were the colors. And everybody showed up to support the home team. I think I can name every player that played on the girl’s team as well as the boy’s team during my elementary school years.

But there was one player who stood out.

Ronnie Visage, pictured here in the yellow shirt with my brother in law, was an incredible high school basketball player who dominated on the basketball court. I can still hear the crowd cheering for Ronnie and the cheerleaders calling his name. “Ronnie Ronnie he’s our man. If he can’t do it NOBODY can.” I truly believed that to be true. As a boy coming up that wanted to be a basketball player I idolized this Reynolds Tiger. He was my inspiration as I shot 1000 times a day in that same gymnasium during my own high school years. The high school had closed by then but the memories of Ronnie Visage playing in that gym were very much alive as I shot basketballs until I had blisters on my hands.

You will notice that Ronnie’s basketball playing days are pretty much over. Actually I should say completely over.

The point here is our opportunity to be someone’s hero doesn’t last forever.

Whatever we do well now will one day be only a memory.