Great Concert This Week in Wetumpka!!!

If you have been paying attention, you probably noticed the countdown clock over on the right side of this page. If you are a fan of Christian music, or just good music in general, you’re going to want to make sure and be at the Wetumpka Performing Arts Center this Sunday night at 7:30.

The Robbie Seay Band, Bethany Dillon, and Caleb will be in concert right here in Wetumpka, bringing their nationwide Songs of Hope Tour to our fair city! For us to have a concert of this magnitude right here at home is huge!

If you are a Christian music fan, you’re probably familiar with RSB and Bethany Dillon. You may not have heard of Caleb yet but I guarantee you that you will soon! Caleb consists of Caleb and Will Chapman who happen to be the sons of one of Christian music’s icons, Steven Curtis Chapman. I promise you that you won’t want to miss this opportunity to see these incredibly talented artists.

Tickets are only $10.00 and you can buy them at Bridgeway Wireless on Main Street in Wetumpka or by calling Trey Caton at 334-514-8739. Better get them now as there aren’t many left!

Go here for more information: Songs of Hope Tour

Advertisements

Don Whorton, 1944 – 2009

I don’t specifically recall the first time I met Don Whorton. I was in my late teens and had already become very interested in all things political. I’m sure I listened to Rush Limbaugh frequently and I was a registered Republican. Don’s future(at the time)son-in-law, Ricky Roberts, and I would occasionally talk politics and Don never missed an opportunity to take a little jab at me for being a Republican. In fact, I’m certain that from the time he figured out that I was a Republican, he never called me by my name again. For the last twenty years or so he referred to me exclusively as George. As in George H.W. Bush, the Republican president at the time I met Don. I can’t begin to count the number of times he said to me, “One day I’m gonna’ take you to Washington and show you what it’s all about!” This was, of course, before he ran for and was elected to the Elmore County Commission as a Republican.

Don was never one to shy away from politics. Unlike many politicians, though, I believe that Don sought public office because he genuinely wanted to make life better for those he served. I think he succeeded. There were times when it was a bumpy ride but that is to be expected in politics. Good times or tough, he conducted himself, both personally and professionally, in a manner that all public servants should. In a way that his constituents could be proud of. He never came across as self-important or arrogant. He came across as a regular guy who cared about the issues that the citizens of Elmore County faced and wanted to help them deal with those issues. He came across that way because that is what he was, a regular guy. A humble dairy farmer with a servant’s heart. We should all aspire to reach such lofty heights by way of humility. It wasn’t always easy on him and his family, but he always persevered and did what he believed to be the right thing.

Don passed away this morning after a long illness and my prayers and thoughts are with his family, who are among my dearest friends. To Janice, Carol, and Beth, I would say simply this: Take comfort in the fact that your husband and father was a good, upright man and Elmore County is a better place because he chose to live, serve, and raise his family here. I am proud not only to have called him my commissioner, but my friend as well. He will be greatly missed.

Who Wants a Trophy?

Have you held the door open for a lady walking into a restaurant?

Maybe given a child a quarter to get a piece of gum from the gum-ball machine?

Or, perhaps you have slowed down considerably to keep from hitting that squirrel who can’t decide which way to go to get out of the way of your car?

If so, then I have good, no, GREAT news!

You have an excellent chance at winning the Nobel Peace Prize!

You might ask, “What are the qualifications?”

To which I would answer, “Apparently, there are no qualifications.” Or, “Pretty much the same as the qualifications to be the President of the United States.”

Heck, at least Jimmy Carter built a bunch of houses for people. Mr. Obama…well…he…umm…organized his community! That’s it! He organized  his community, drank a beer with a cop, and smoked lots of cigarettes! Other than these things, his most notable accomplishments have been unsuccessfully, thus far, trying to ramrod a ridiculous, government run health care plan through congress, traveling around the world apologizing for the United States being the best, most benevolent country on the planet, and calling for a college football playoff. Oh, and did I mention that he drank a beer with a cop?

The Nobel Prize, for whatever credibility it had left after awarding the prize to such notables as the aforementioned Jimmy Carter and the inventor of the internet, Al Gore, is now without any credibility at all. President Obama has done absolutely nothing other than spew a bunch of hot air into the atmosphere, which should anger all of his “green” friends. He is nothing more than a celebrity who was banking on his personality and likability to convince such despots as Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Hugo Chavez to stop doing bad things. “Hello, may I speak to Mahmoud? Mahmoud, how are you? It’s Barack. Obama. Barack Obama, the President of the United States? Yeah, hey. Look, I just wanted to call and ask you if you would mind not doing all the bad stuff  you’ve been doing. I’m a pretty well-connected guy and can get you tickets to a Springsteen concert if you promise to not shoot Israel with some sort of really powerful bomb. Sweet! Thanks! I can trust you, right? I’m just kidding, I know you’re a stand-up guy. Tell the Ayatollah I said wassup! Right, O-B-A-M-A. My middle name is Hussein. Yeah!  I knew you’d like that! Have a good one. Bye.”

I have several baseball and football trophies from when I was a kid that I’m going to give away as awards and I’m going to call them the Hanky Prizes. I’m going to give them to some of my friends who’ve done nice things for me over the years. I know they’ll be excited! After all, now I can say that the Hanky Prize has every bit as much prestige as the Nobel Prize!

Little Green Fingers

Some time ago, we discussed here whether or not fish had shoulders. We won’t rehash that one now. If you have no idea what I’m talking about, click here. Now I have another similar question regarding frogs. Do they have hands?
I’m sure I have spoken here in the past about my disdain for small, quick, jumpy creatures that can get on me before I realize what has happened. This usually results in a sort of guttural growl of panic that escapes my lips immediately followed by the dance I’ll refer to as the “GET IT OFF ME” dance. There is much flailing of limbs and a fair amount of gnashing of teeth until I’m certain that whatever was on me has been shaken or violently knocked off  by one of said flailing limbs.
Back to the frog. The neighborhood that I live in is right next to the river. In and around the river there are lots of frogs. LOTS of frogs. Anytime there is a good rain, these multitudes of frogs decide that it is a good time to go for a walk, or hop, into the streets of my neighborhood. If you drive around my neighborhood after such a rain, you will be serenaded by the sound of popping under your tires. Who knew frogs literally popped like balloons when you run over them. How I’ve missed that all my life, I don’t know. A bit macabre, I know, but it gives you an idea of how many frogs are out and about.
About two weeks ago, I decided to go out for a run around 8 p.m. or so, probably about a half-hour after one of these rain storms ended. It was when I was walking down the driveway on the side of my house with my headphones on and the cord dangling down about mid-thigh that I felt it. It didn’t really register at first. But on the third or fourth time I realized that something heavier than the cord from a set of headphones was bumping against my leg. I looked down and much to my chagrin I saw a frog, not a tree frog, but the other kind of frog, a regular frog I suppose, hanging from my headphone cord by his little frog hands. At least they looked like hands. He looked up at me as he swung back out away from my leg for what would prove to be the final time. It was at that moment that we made eye contact. Probably the way that the guy who does the catching on the flying trapeze does with the catchee when he realizes they are about to have an unfortunate parting of the ways. Except there was no safety net for Kermit. There was only the side of my house as my right arm sent him flying into the bricks. It didn’t sound like it felt good. If you take your hand and slap the back of your thigh, then you’ll have a pretty good idea of the sound a frog makes when he flies awkwardly into a brick wall.
I’m not necessarily what you would call a “big” man, though I am bigger than average and I used to weigh in at a rotund 240 lbs. A friend and I were once discussing what we like to think we’d do if we were ever on an airplane and someone tried to hijack it the way the 9/11 hijackers did. His comment was along the lines of “If I start crying then the hijacker better watch out because the only thing more dangerous than an angry big man is a scared big man.” I thought it to be a rather profound statement with at least some basis in truth. If you don’t believe me, ask the frog what he heard, saw, and felt on that fateful day. He’ll probably say that he was simply trying to do some chin-ups when he heard something that sounded Chewbacca choking on a peanut shell and before he knew what was happening, he had taken off like a rocket, smashed into a wall, and found himself lying half-conscious on the ground while being beckoned to “come toward the light.”
I don’t know if Mr. Frog survived his wild ride or not but I’ve learned that those of us who fear these horrific creatures must be especially vigilant following a rainstorm. Now I’m just hope I don’t have a wart outbreak on my thigh.