Yesterday, I flew to Orlando to attend a conference on accreditation. My first flight was canceled (Thanks USAir). I ended up flying to Houston Texas in route to Orlando. I got to my hotel after 11:00 P.M.
There is not much to report unless you are interested in Quality Enhancement in higher education.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Friday, July 25, 2008
St. George
It is amazing how K-Mart has improved their photography backdrops. This looks so real. We are enjoying our time in Pigeon Forge.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
Monday, July 21, 2008
Vacation Begins
We have begun a vacation on St George Island with Karisa and Johnmark. It is for me a working vacation as I have to work on accreditation issues. No pictures yet.
Last week Camdyn stayed with us. We met her parents in Knoxville on Friday (See the pictures below). They where on their way to vacation with Justin's family on the Outter Banks of North Carolina.
Karisa & Johnmark arrived in Cleveland Saturday morning around 4:00 A.M. We arrived here around 11:00 P.M.
Last week Camdyn stayed with us. We met her parents in Knoxville on Friday (See the pictures below). They where on their way to vacation with Justin's family on the Outter Banks of North Carolina.
Karisa & Johnmark arrived in Cleveland Saturday morning around 4:00 A.M. We arrived here around 11:00 P.M.
Monday, July 14, 2008
Alethea, Camdyn & Charlie Visit
Alethea, Camdyn and Charlie came over Friday evening. They went to the church cookout with us on Saturday (to see me slimed). Sunday was church. We have picked couple of gallons of blueberries and tonight we roasted marshmellows.
Saturday, July 12, 2008
Slimed
We had a wonderful Vacation Bible School (VBS) this week The boys and girls competed to bring the biggest offerings. If the boys won our Children's Pastor, Vernice Blackaby was to be "slimed." If the girls won, I was to be honored. The picture reveals it all. Over $400.00 was raised.
Sunday, July 06, 2008
My Father Taught Me: "And That Ain't Hear-say"
Dad on his 65th birthday with his oldest full brother, George.
In his youth, my father was known to enjoy a night out drinking and fighting. Usually he was there to make sure his brother Woodrow got home safe. When he married my mother she told him he could bring all the liquor home he wanted as long as it was inside of him. He would later say he decided if he couldn't drink at home he didn't want to drink. I can remember seeing him have a few beers when I was four or five, and he kept the same fifth of whiskey "for the croup" hidden in the cupboard until I was ten or eleven. I am thankful I never saw him drunk. My memories are of a strong, self-controlled, god-like figure.
I am not certain how my dad broke free from an early pattern of drunkenness. It was a systemic sickness both in his family and in the society in which he grew up. Young men went out on Friday nights to get drunk and fight. Many of them became alcoholics. His deliverance came long before his salvation and was of course the grace of God working largely through my mother's prayers and influence. But the words of my grand-parents also left their mark.
Dad often told two brief stories that clearly had an impact on him. First and perhaps most powerful were the words of his mother. "One night Woodrow and I came in so drunk we could hardly get up the front steps. Ma met us at the door and said, "If anybody ever raised two fools I sure did."
Another indelible mark came from his father. My grandfather, Albert "Abb" Johns, lost his first wife with two small children in the home. He married my grandmother and had seven more children. Somewhere along the way he became a heavy drinker and fighter. At least until he had his first stroke while my dad was still young. "One night Woodrow and I came in from an evening of drinking. As we lay on our bed Pa shuffled by, looked in and said "You boys can mess with that stuff if you want to, but sooner or later it will get the best of you; And that ain't hear-say."
I have seen enough drunks in my life; happy drunks who would give away everything they owned just to be loved, angry drunks who hate themselves so much they just want to hurt and be hurt and so they fight. I remember the slurred speech, the drool, the vomit. The stench is unforgettable. None of them set out to be alcoholics. They just wanted to have a little fun, to feel better for a while, to just fit in. Sooner or later it just got the best of them.
In his youth, my father was known to enjoy a night out drinking and fighting. Usually he was there to make sure his brother Woodrow got home safe. When he married my mother she told him he could bring all the liquor home he wanted as long as it was inside of him. He would later say he decided if he couldn't drink at home he didn't want to drink. I can remember seeing him have a few beers when I was four or five, and he kept the same fifth of whiskey "for the croup" hidden in the cupboard until I was ten or eleven. I am thankful I never saw him drunk. My memories are of a strong, self-controlled, god-like figure.
I am not certain how my dad broke free from an early pattern of drunkenness. It was a systemic sickness both in his family and in the society in which he grew up. Young men went out on Friday nights to get drunk and fight. Many of them became alcoholics. His deliverance came long before his salvation and was of course the grace of God working largely through my mother's prayers and influence. But the words of my grand-parents also left their mark.
Dad often told two brief stories that clearly had an impact on him. First and perhaps most powerful were the words of his mother. "One night Woodrow and I came in so drunk we could hardly get up the front steps. Ma met us at the door and said, "If anybody ever raised two fools I sure did."
Another indelible mark came from his father. My grandfather, Albert "Abb" Johns, lost his first wife with two small children in the home. He married my grandmother and had seven more children. Somewhere along the way he became a heavy drinker and fighter. At least until he had his first stroke while my dad was still young. "One night Woodrow and I came in from an evening of drinking. As we lay on our bed Pa shuffled by, looked in and said "You boys can mess with that stuff if you want to, but sooner or later it will get the best of you; And that ain't hear-say."
I have seen enough drunks in my life; happy drunks who would give away everything they owned just to be loved, angry drunks who hate themselves so much they just want to hurt and be hurt and so they fight. I remember the slurred speech, the drool, the vomit. The stench is unforgettable. None of them set out to be alcoholics. They just wanted to have a little fun, to feel better for a while, to just fit in. Sooner or later it just got the best of them.
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