GOOD MORNING, FRIENDS

A Rememberamble for Monday, September 08, 2025 ..... It was a quiet and peaceful weekend for "we boyz three," and I hope yours was as well...unless you like noisy and chaotic weekends. If so, my kind of weekends are not for you. I have always loved peace and quiet, even in my drinking days. I never drank to party or socialize, I drank to disappear. I no longer feel the need to disappear. That makes me think about my first night after God saved me from destruction on that freezing March night in 2008. I was certain that I would be unable to sleep without alcohol. But, it turns out, that when you hear God command you to, "come on out, it will be alright," His word is all-inclusive. He took care of the sleeping just as easily as he took care of the rest of my troubles. I laid my head down that night and was asleep in a peaceful instant. I am sixty-seven years old, a time when good sleep can be elusive, but I continue to go to sleep in an instant, and stay asleep all night. Well, 'cept when one of or all of these boyz three, has to pee. Dove season "came in," as we say, on Saturday, but I can't testify to anyone shooting at a single one because I was a "slugabed," as the yanks say. Since I no longer haul logs, where I usually saw many sunflower or patches of corn planted for dove shoots, I have seen none this season. Doves are good eating as we say, just about like robins. Some folks don't believe me when I say we used to shoot robins and doves in flight with our 22 rifles. When were young, daddy bought each of us a Remington Nylon 66 Black Apache Nickel 22 rifle. My brothers and I got very, very good with them. The three of us shot birds on the wing. I could hit a flying bird with my rifle easier than I ever could with a shotgun. When daddy and uncle James were boys in the "Hoover Days," they did the same with their slingshots. Those were hard times back then so they shot all kinds of birds, including those tiny tomtits (tufted titmouse) and ma cooked them, the same with fish then, none were too small to eat. In those "hongry days," they ate fish heads, squirrel brains, chitlins, tripe, hog lights, hog sweetbreads, eels, raccoon, o'possums, and dang-near anything that did not eat them first. If it "whuttin" real good eatin," why they'd just pour some syrup on it. There was no such critter then, as a picky eatin' youngun. They "ett" it gladly. That makes me think of the old term I have not heard in years, "missed meal colic." It meant you were sick from missing a meal, it was a jest, and meant you were very hungry. Even in well-fed households, the hunger of youth is so very keen, as we age, it fades too. We get hungry now, but I can recall us kids almost writhing in agony for mama to put supper on the table, and say, "come on, let's eat." Let me say once more how sharing life with each of you is such a reward, and let me thank you again for your faithfulness here. Numbers 6: 24-26 KJV ..... we boyz three, babee conway, lil merle, & me