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When I went into hibernation, I wasn't planning on ever coming out.  I knew death was coming, and I was ok with it.  I knew death was nearby because he'd been taking out my support staff one by one for a while.  When it came to be my turn, I figured I wouldn't put up a fight.  How bad could it be?  I would know and love so many people already on the other side.  

Only, it didn't work out that way.  When death came for me, I looked him in the eye and said, "Not today, friend.  Not today."

All those years in the cave took nearly all the strength I'd been known for.  No more could I move truckloads of iron in the gym.  I could barely lift a glass of milk to my lips, but it was a start.  God's hand reached down to me, and just like the blind and bald Samson, my strength started returning.  Slowly, at first, but building momentum.  He was pushing me.

From the beginning, I began noticing strange coincidences.  Jobs requiring skills I had began appearing just as I was getting strong enough to do them again.  It happened often enough that it started freaking me out a little bit.  Maybe coming back to life wasn't my choice at all.  Maybe there were other forces at work here.

I started going back to Sunday School at Galloway.  I hadn't been to Sunday School since Bert Felder first started his ministry there.  I thought it'd take me a while to figure out which way to go, but right off the bat, Sue Whitt reached out to me and told me where to go.  Sue's been telling me where to go, in one way or another, since I was nineteen.  She's always been right so far.  So, now I have a Sunday School.

At Sunday School, someone mentioned that some money was being raised for the Drama Ministry at Galloway.  Drama Ministry at Galloway used to be a really active thing. The family life center has a really nice theater in it.  One of the last productions I was ever involved with anywhere before sealing up the door to my cave was "Harvey" at Galloway, which I got involved with because Brent couldn't.  

What are the odds that Galloway would need people with theater skills just at the same moment that I was returning to the church family?   That's not a natural progression.  If I do this (and I am going to do this), it will make me sad to do it without Rick Bradley, but maybe it'd make him happy to know I was there when he couldn't.  I'm probably going to try and rope Brent into it as well.  Theater ministry has been a part of his life his whole life, and there are people there who already love him.  He's not really satisfied doing theater when he can't stand on a ladder, but that's ok.  There are other jobs.  He can sit in a rocking chair like Lance.  Boy, I miss Lance.  Y'all don't know.  Well, maybe some do.  Maybe Sam will want to be a part too.  I don't know if he has a church family here yet or not.

One of the reasons Dr. Whitt recommended this class for me was that it was run by Tom Harmon.   Tom is deeply involved with Art For All Mississippi.  Artforallms.com exists so that developmentally challenged artists can grow their skills and discover new ones and find fellow travelers in their journey.  Until I started making my writing available online, even my oldest friends didn't know I was developmentally disabled, and even my oldest friends had forgotten that I was ever an artist.  Now that art is part of my life again, thanks to people like Hope Carr, Will Primos, and others, I'm kind of duty-bound to investigate this organization and see if there's a place where my hands should take hold and help pull.  I am, very much, a developmentally disabled artist in so many ways.

"Arbeit macht frei" appears at the entrance to probably the most evil place man ever created.  They were evil, but they weren't wrong.  Work WILL set me Free.  I need work.  I need to serve.  I need to expend effort on something, on some people, other than myself, if I'm going to live again, and I very much want to live again.  With every step I take, God lays out more of the path before me.  I could close my eyes and still find the way, but I won't.  I want to see it all.  I'm back at work, y'all.  Life is good.

Pet Parade Sunday Morning

Good Mornin!  

It's thirty-seven degrees in Jackson, Mississippi.  That's cold.  It's Sunday! Sunday! Sunday!  I'm gonna put a tie on feist-dog and take him to church.  Pastor Carey Stockett is gonna preach part four of his five-part series on the Lord's Prayer.  Lord found out what Feist-dog been up to and told me to bring him in.

We got continued livestock judging at the fairgrounds, leadin' up to the Dixie National Rodeo starting February 10th.  Get your tickets at the coliseum box office.  Today will be the judging of 4H lambs and heifers.  Come on down to support 4H participants from all over Mississippi.

It's six o'clock, time for Pet Parade!  Pets, lost, found, and to-give-away!

We got three items on Pet Parade today, all from the north end of Meadowbrook Road.  Willie Lee Kroeze has found a pet crow.  Says the crow weighs around five pounds.  It eats well and responds to simple commands.  If this is your crow, she's keeping it in her carport and is teaching it new tricks.  Call her at Emmerson 6724 to pick up your pet crow.

Katherine Speed has lost a brown gelding horse.  It's old, it's mean, and you can't ride it, but she wants it back anyhow.  Last seen being chased by Jim Campblell's yard man, Ivory Barnes, with a rope.  Both are moving pretty slow.  If you see this horse, call Mrs. Speed at Lakewood 5321.  She'd like to have him back.

Last lost pet of the day, Pop Primos, has lost a tom turkey.  Last seen being chased by Jessie the Janiotor across the St. Andrews lower school football field.  If you see the turkey, call Mr. Kenny Primos at their Northgate restaurant.  Stay healthy. Eat at Primos.

That's all we got for Pet Parade today.  Ya'll call these folks if you can help 'em out.  Feist-Dog was gonna try to catch that turkey till he saw how big it was, then he ran and hid behind the wood-pile.  

These are all authentic Pet Parade stories, by the way.  I was there.  I loved Willie Kroeze to pieces.  She was Pet Parade's best customer. If there was ever a lost or misguided pet in North East Jackson, she'd find it and nurse it back to health until she either found its original owner or a better one.

Sometimes people like to talk about how Great Jackson was in those days.  It certainly wasn't trouble-free.  Every attempt to integrate our Capitol City met with bitter resistance.  Somebody blew up the Beth Israel Synagogue because they didn't like the way Rabbi Nussbaum was friendly with the negros.  The water system broke about as often then as it does now, but they didn't go out on the radio and television with a "boil water" notice because the EPA didn't require us to.  Breaks in the pipes got fixed a little faster because the city had more money because the population was still growing, not shrinking like it is now.  Water breaks got fixed a lot quicker if you lived in North East Jackson.  Less quickly if you lived in West Jackson, and you were lucky to have water at all if you lived in parts of midtown.  

Things seemed better when Jim Neal was on the radio.  He didn't sound like a radio man.  He sounded like your grandpa talking to you while he made breakfast.  It was comforting and very real.  Jim Neal cared for us.  He served in the Mississippi legislature, and he raised tens of thousands of dollars for the university hospital beyond fighting for its funding in the legislature.  He loved animals and often was the master of ceremonies at the Dixie National Rodeo.  I listened to WZZQ at night because they had better music.  Farmer Jim played what I called Lawrence Welk music, but I didn't care.  I needed his voice in the morning.

When Farmer Jim died, I let Feist-dog come live with me.  My wife didn't care too much for him; her cats didn't like the way he smelled.  He's old, his teeth are crooked, and he's not good for nothin', but I like having him around.  He reminds me not so much of good days in the past, although there were a lot of those, but better days ahead.  Feist dog reminds us of the humble but beautiful things God gives us, and keeps our mind on the new day ahead, even if it's really cold outside.  Good morning' feist-dog.  Let's go to work.