Friendship refreshes the soul

This phrase is an adaptation of Proverbs 27:9: As we go through life we meet many people, with some becoming acquaintances and some becoming friends, that propel us forward in life.

My newspaper career has uprooted my family many times. Each time we would move to a new town I would go immediately to work at the newspaper and my wife, Barbara, would be responsible for finding our way around town. She would first look for churches that would serve our family needs and ultimately become the source of new friendships.

Those new found friends would advise us on schools, shopping, history of the community, and, when our sons were young, fun things to do. From our experiences we can explain the importance of being open to new folks and families relocating to your community. You can make a difference, and many times a welcoming smile is all it takes.

We moved to Rome in 1998 to begin a new position with Rome News-Tribune and found our way to First Baptist Church. It was there that we met Harold Storey and his wife, Rena. If you know Harold and Rena you know they don’t meet many strangers. They both have a broad smile that can make even the most uncomfortable feel comfortable.

I don’t know the origin of this quote sent to me years ago from a newspaper friend that says “friendship isn’t about who you’ve known the longest, it’s about who walked into your life, said ‘I’m here for you’ and proved it.” Harold Storey has proved to be that friend to my family and me.

Harold, for those of you that may not know him, is soon to be 95 years old, and is a highly decorated WWII vet. (Don’t ask him about WWII unless you want to know … because he knows a lot and you will be amazed at how well he remembers the action.) He has also been very active in his church and the Rome and Floyd County community, and even today community decision makers seek his opinion and wisdom.

I call him my little brother. How then did two people with a difference of 30 years in age become such good friends? I don’t know exactly, and he and I have talked about that. We share the belief that we should love everybody even when we may not like everybody. We laugh at each other. We enjoy each other’s company.

Could be that Harold is a good listener and perceptive. He is well read and has stopped by my office many times over the Illustration by Lee Field, RN-T

years to discuss issues of the day. He never begins a discussion of any type before asking me how I’m doing. He is sincere in his concern for me. Then he asks about Barbara and our sons. He then asks about the time I have to talk. He respects the fact that he is retired and I am working. Following that we discuss in no specific order our community, our church, our state, nation and world.

He can’t get around as well as he would like, so we often talk by phone or email. For his age he is one of the most technically savvy guys I know.

When Harold says he will pray for you, believe him. Barbara and I moved away for a while and he knew we were like fish out must know a little something about communicating. Otherwise, you would have to go get a real job and get some grease under your fingernails.”

I have not been very successful in convincing the man that writing columns isn’t as easy as he seems to think it is. There is a lot of stress in the matter of verb agreements with indefinite pronouns, not to mention trying to figure out where commas go. Skeeter Skates thinks that if you don’t have grease under your fingernails, you don’t have much to contribute to the American way of life.

“Here’s my problem, Hoss,” Skeeter said, “Folks in Ryo keep asking why I ain’t on Face Paint, or whatever you call it and if the president of the whole dang U.S. of A is twerping all the time, how come I ain’t? I don’t understand what they are talking about. I thought maybe you could help me try to figure it out.”

In the first place, I said, it isn’t Face Paint. It is Facebook. Just like knowing the difference in a brush grubber and a steer skid stump grinder, nomenclature is important.

“What does it do?” Skeeter asked. I had to admit that I am probably not the highest and best source on the subject of Facebook. I said as best I can figure, Facebook is a place where you let people know your dog died and they all tell you how sorry they are and then proceed to tell you about their trip to Panama City. And sometimes people who say they are my Facebook friends get upset if I write something they don’t like and say unkind things about me.

“That don’t make a whole lot of sense,” Staff graphic

Of the readers who responded to our most recent poll about the health care bill proposed by the U.S. Senate, 26 percent of readers voted Yes, they support it; 64 percent voted No; and 10 percent responded No opinion. Poll results reflect only the opinions of those who chose to participate. LField@RN-T.com

of water. We talked frequently and I knew he was praying for us. He and I were at a men’s dinner at FBC and someone asked me how we got back to Rome so quickly. Shannon Loy, another young friend of Harold’s, quickly responded that it was because Harold had prayed daily for our return.

Harold encouraged me and I knew he was there for me. He proved it.

Take a look around you and see if there is someone needing you to step into his or her life.

A sweet friendship refreshes the soul. Skeeter replied, “I don’t think you ought to treat your friends like that. Act that way in the plow repair and stump removal business and you ain’t going to be around long.”

He then asked me about twerping. I said I believe he was talking about tweeting. I told Skeeter the trick to tweeting is that you only have 140 characters to say what you want to say. Skeeter asked if I tweeted. I said not much. He said he could see where tweeting would be hard for me. “Hoss,” he said, “I have read your stuff for a long time and you have trouble making sense in 700 words, forget 140 characters.” It takes a thick skin to deal with Skeeter Skates.

Skeeter wanted to know why the President is always tweeting. I said I didn’t know but that I thought most folks wished he would stop and spend more time trying to unite the country. Skeeter chuckled, “That ought to get you a bunch of angry twerps.” I think he meant tweets but in this case, he may be more right than wrong.

Skeeter said he had to go. There were plows to be repaired and stumps to be removed. He would think over what I had said but Face Paint and twerping sounded like a monumental waste of time to him. If his dog died, he said he would call me up and tell me and that he wasn’t interested in hearing about anybody’s trip to Panama City. With that, he hung up. In many ways, Skeeter Skates is a man ahead of his time. Man shot at Calhoun Quick Stop after argument turns physical Lawsuit: Darlington knew about sex abuse, did nothing New suite being built at former Pizza Hut site Darlington statement on AJC story concerning alleged sex abuse Georgia Power closing business offices Indicted: Ex-coach accused of sex with a student, escaped inmate Annual celebration, fireworks coming back to Calhoun for July 4th Suspect is ID’d in Quick Stop shooting Mobile spay, neuter could be suspended without more participation Fairmount, local law enforcement mourn death of retired chief 19,593 views 13,723 views 6,800 views 4,801 views 4,378 views 4,067 views 2,803 views 2,737 views 2,726 views 2,506 views

Every summer for the last couple of decades, I have joined two groups of longtime friends for a preseason football fiesta.

We call it “The Draft.” I participate in one in the Athens/ Atlanta area, and one in South Georgia. Here’s the way it works: We “draft” college and pro football teams based on what we think their regular-season records will be. The drafter with the best overall record at the end of the season wins.

Currently, I am in the midst of preparing for another “drafting season.” In discussing our plans for the annual event, a fellow drafter offered a query: “What tips can you give me?”

“The real secret is this,” I said, easing in, telling him in a whisper so no one else could hear my classified winning formula. “You have to look closely at their schedule and go game-by-game.” He gave me a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” I then explained the method to my mystic madness, using Georgia’s upcoming 2017 schedule as an example.

“Georgia opens at home on Sept. 2 against Appalachian State. Their nickname is the Mountaineers. Mountaineers have guns, but they won’t shoot any type of dog. Because of this, a bulldog will beat a mountaineer any day. Easy win.

“Georgia then goes to Notre Dame on Sept. 9. Big game. Last time they played was in the 1980 national championship game, and you know how that ended. Same mascots, same result.

“Georgia hosts Samford on Sept. 16. Samford and Georgia are both Bulldogs, which causes a dilemma — unless the other team is from Samford. Another easy victory.

“Another week, another Bulldog — this time against Mississippi State at home on Sept. 23. The Mississippi State Bulldog is sort of brown, and maybe yellow — which are the official colors of losing.

“Tennessee is next, on Sept. 30, in Knoxville. Tennessee’s mascot is a hound dog. For the most part, and especially lately, bulldogs are way more aggressive than hound dogs. Bulldogs win again.

“Vanderbilt on the road, Oct. 7. Vanderbilt’s mascot is a commodore. A commodore is apparently a fancy guy that wears a silly hat. Georgia is 6-0 at this point.

“Georgia plays at home versus Missouri Tigers on Oct. 14. Usually, a tiger can eat a dog, but you have to remember that bulldogs are smarter than tigers. I’m figuring the Bulldogs find a way to outsmart the Tigers this year.

“Regular season ends Nov. 25 against Georgia Tech in the ATL. No way a yellow jacket can beat a bulldog. They need to go back to that Ramblin’ Wreck nickname. Then, they might stand a chance. See, a car can run over a dog.”

I concluded with the following: “So, Georgia will go 12-0 in the regular season. Can’t tell you if they’ll win the national championship because I don’t know who they play. Better hope it’s not the California Bears.”

My fellow drafter looked puzzled. “Why? Is California supposed to be good this year?”

“Don’t know,” I answered. “But a bear will eat a bulldog.”