Good morning my friends. I hope you all found a good place to stay cool yesterday. It was really a warm one where I live in Mooresville. Did some of you transplants know that Mooresville used to be called the Port City of Lake Norman? I never did figure that one out. I was here and watched as Duke Power began buying up small farms and homes near the Catawba River and started cutting down trees and clearing off land to make room for the lake. I was here and watched as the waters of Lake Norman rose to its current level and I have yet to see any ships unloading any kind of goods that came down river from northern ports. The town fathers, of that time back in the early sixties, jumped on that Port City thing and ate it up with the gusto of a starving hound dog. I suppose Mooresville needed to be branded. Well, we have been branded again, now we are Race City, USA. When Vickie and I attended the National Exchange Club Convention the other week in New Orleans, now that is a port city, anyway, somebody from a far away state asked me where I was from. I told the gentleman I was from Mooresville, North Carolina and he quickly responded, “Race City USA.” Ain’t that a kick in the head? Little old Mooresville, where I grew up, has gained quite a reputation in the racing world. Many thanks to Don Miller and others who saved our town from the poor “cotton mill days” of my youth and helped sustain us and re-invent our economy to make Mooresville an even better place in which to live. As Dorothy told her little dog in “The Wizard of Oz,” This ain’t Kansas anymore, Toto.” Well, Dorothy probably didn’t say ain’t, but you know what I mean. I can’t imagine my life without friends like Stephen and Teena Brooks. Not only did Stephen help me stumble through the making of the segment for North Carolina Now, but he and Teena came over and watched it with us on Friday night. Just to let you know how good a friend he is, “Butch” gave me a brand new set of high quality guitar strings for my birthday. But wait, there’s more! I had the privilege of shooting pool with his lovely wife while he patiently removed the old strings off my vintage Gibson guitar and lovingly cleaned and polished the thing to where it looked like a new one. That fifty year old Gibson shone to the point as to where it reminded me of what my daddy used to say, “It gleamed like a diamond in pig’s behind.” Meanwhile back at the pool table, even though it was for my birthday, Teena showed no mercy and whipped me soundly in pool. All the while, Vickie was up and down the basement stairs bringing refreshments and playing on her phone. When Butch got my guitar tuned up, he and I sat and played a few songs and kept re-tuning the new strings as they kept stretching. By the time we had the strings halfway settled, my poor fingers were aching…I haven’t played my guitar in months to mount to anything except for the taping of the segment for the TV show. It was a good evening to be with good friends. Old “Butch” and “Sundance” still make a pretty good team even though we might be getting old. I’ll tell you one thing, though; I ain’t going to Bolivia with him. Have a good day and don’t forget to go to church and give the Lord some deserved attention. I have the privilege of ushering again today and dress up a little bit. Well, it’s already past 4:30 and time to study my Sunday school lesson so I can add my two cents worth in on the discussion. Please pray for several members from our class and our church that are currently on a mission trip to Nicaragua. These dedicated folks go regularly on foreign mission trips giving medical aid and spreading the word of God. We need more folks like them. God Bless!!
Posted on: Sun, 27 Jul 2014 08:57:25 +0000