Savoring the Moment

Have you ever had an experience, when it had passed, you wished you had been more “in the moment?”

The definition for “savor” reads like this: To enjoy food or an experience slowly, in order to enjoy it as much as possible. It seems we, in our fast-paced world, do nothing “slowly.” We order “fast food” fast, pay for it fast, and eat it fast.

I have vowed this holiday season to eat less food but enjoy what I do eat more. That means more careful selection, slower eating, and more thorough chewing. (The health experts say that is better for me.) And I have decided to spoil myself a bit. I’m going to concentrate more on the foods I really love, like dressing and gravy. (Not the Stove Top variety.) I think I will have a center-slice of country ham with red-eyed gravy. (That’s the second time I’ve mentioned gravy.) I may even have a foot-long chili dog. What ever I decide, I will enjoy it slowly and savor each bite.

And I will savor some memories. (Relive them slowly.) Many invariably take me back to the Brim Hollow. My maternal grandfather, Will Herod Brim, for all the years I knew him; ate two hard-boiled eggs at every meal. His routine never varied. After chopping his eggs up finely with a fork, he added a pat of yellow butter, and a little mayonnaise. Then, he salted and peppered to taste and mixed his simple concoction. Light bread toast (extra dry) or saltine crackers finished his feast. I will have my eggs that way a few times over the Holidays. And I will find myself seated at little kitchen table covered with red-checked oil cloth; and feel the heat from wood-burning cook stove; and recall the sparkle in my grandfather’s eyes.

I heard of an old man who was resting in a rocking chair on the front porch of a country store long ago. A drummer (That’s what they used to call salesmen.) stopped by and asked the old man what he was doing.

“I am participating in a lost art,” said the old man.

“And what might that be?” pressed the questioner.

“I’m just a’sittin’,” replied the old man. We might all prosper by practicing that lost art.

The Holidays give way to all types of gatherings - corporate parties, office parties, church dinners, Sunday school class Christmas get-to-gathers, family gatherings, to name a few. When I attend them, I always listen for the “buzz.” It’s the sound of people who really love each other and enjoy one another’s company. To be a part of such “community” is to be savored.

And there are times we get to spend, one-on-one, with life-long friends. It is vitally important when we are with those friends that we are really “with” them - that we express our deepest feelings. Moments with friends are to be savored as well.

Speaking of savoring moments, one of our soon-to-be teenager granddaughters was in a hurry to catch her ride as she was leaving our house one day last week. (They always seem to be in a hurry.) As she was dashing out of the door, she stopped suddenly and came back into the room. Then, without a word, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. And just as suddenly, she was gone. But she left me with a moment to savor throughout the Holidays.

So, whatever you enjoy this Holiday season, whether it be food, or being with friends and family, or having your heart warmed by some unique experience, take time to savor.

May your days be MERRY and BRIGHT!

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

Expect the Unexpected

Life is full of surprises. I don’t know why we should be surprised.

I was in the delivery room when our first son was born. He came into the world red and wrinkly and icky and not very happy with the situation. Caught up in the wonder of human birth, I was not prepared when the attending nurse suddenly turned to me and said, “We’re going to let the father take him down to the nurse’s station and weigh him.” Then, she handed him to me. What a package! I held him closely as I walked to the nurse’s station. 8 lbs. 15 ¼ ounces. That was the first of many surprises he would afford me in the coming years.

My son, Joseph, and I have a modest cattle herd. Being old school, I prefer to check on them every day, but that is not always possible. The demands of my job make it almost impossible. Most of our calves come in the spring, usually in March and April. Occasionally, a few cows will “catch up” and calve in January or February. Last fall was especially busy, and I hardly checked on the cows at all. I must say I was surprised when I looked in on the cows in November to find 5 new baby calves! I concluded the herd bull must have been on the job. I have learned to expect the unexpected.

My brother, John, is becoming a master gardener. Access to the internet has opened up a whole new world of gardening ideas for him and daughter, Olivia. This year he planted late butter beans, squash, and tomatoes. He was anxious that the butter beans would “make” before frost, but they did thanks to some creative harvesting. He gave me a call a few days before the first frost to inform me green tomatoes were still available, but in jeopardy. I took him up on the offer.

I was surprised to find myself canning green tomato pickle on November 25, two days after Thanksgiving Day, 2023. Who would have thought it? Another surprise.

I received a call from the wife of a dear friend at 10:00 PM last Wednesday evening. He had been admitted to the hospital and was facing emergency surgery the next day. If I had been making a list of the healthiest people I knew within 10 years of my age, he would have been high on my list. If I had been making a list of my friends whose health might have been in jeopardy, he would have been close to last. It is the kind of surprise which brings you to your knees. We never know.

I have another friend who is in law enforcement. He’s been a police officer/detective, career type. One day he was waiting in the drive-up line at a fast-food establishment. A woman in front of him was taking an excruciatingly long time to place her order. He grew impatient. She continued to order. He became exasperated. Her ordering dragged on. Finally, she finished. He pulled forward to place his. At the “pay” window she, again, took extra time. He was at his wits end. She finally moved on. He stopped to pay.

“The lady in front of you paid for your lunch, sir!” said the young lady taking payment, cheerfully. “She said, ‘Have a nice day, and thanks for your service.’” Surprise, surprise!

I suggest to my friends to tuck away a 5 or a 10 or a 20 or even a 100-dollar bill in your wallet or purse, and look for opportunities to give it away this Holiday season. If you are going to be in on a surprise, let it be a pleasant one!

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall  

Giving Thanks 2023

Well, it’s that time of year again. Time to pause and offer thanks. I think it’s important, from time to time, to enumerate the things for which one is thankful, especially at Thanksgiving. In the past I have suggested to my friends and readers to make a list of 25 or more. This year I have made my list several times. Each time I make a list it seems to grow.

As a speaker and writer, I see myself as a “reminder.” The Good Book says, “There is nothing new under the sun.” I have nothing new to offer, but I can remind people of things they already know.

So, here’s a list of things for which I am thankful. I hope it inspires you to make a list of your own.

I always begin my list with “Peace with God.” The old folks used to speak of “making peace.” My late mother used to say, “If, in this life, you miss that, you’ve missed it all.”

Family. I recently read a quote from Mother Teresa, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” A young Hispanic father recently said to me, “Oh, sir, family is everything!” If you are part of a loving family, be thankful.

Freedom. I once heard it said, “If you have anything of value for which you did not sacrifice, someone else did.” As citizens of the United States of America, our freedom came at a great price. Be thankful for our freedom.

Health. You’ve heard it said, “If you have your health, you have everything.” Be thankful if you enjoy good health.

Over the past few weeks, I have experienced two cataract/lens surgeries. The improvement to my eyesight has been remarkable. My late mother was legally blind for the last ten years of her life. She would often say, “Of all the things I miss, I miss my sight most. I wish I could read my Bible.” If you can see well, be thankful.

People. I usually write down the names of teachers, friends, and mentors who have impacted my life most. Imagine where you might be without their influence. Offer thanks for them.

After making a list several times, your “Top 5”, or “Top 10” will naturally fall into place. That’s when you can let your imagination “run” or “freefall.”

Here goes.

I am thankful for country living, country sausage, country ham, country roads, country music, and for growing up in the “country.”

I am thankful for church family, Sunday school classes, the Holy Bible, and the Sunday school teacher I had long ago. (Her name was Johnnie Mae Denton.) 

I am thankful for running water, a climate-controlled home, a warm bed, electricity, and a good roof over my head.

I am grateful for life lessons I learned in the Brim Hollow and memories I will take with me until my time is up.

I am thankful for flannel shirts, comfortable boots, and warm coats.

I am thankful for Thanksgiving dinner along with turkey and all the trimmings.

I am thankful for Christmas music and Karen Carpenter.

I am thankful for cedar kindling, ricks of firewood, fireplaces, and smoking chimneys.

I am grateful for dependable vehicles, chainsaws with sharp blades, a good wood splitter, and a handy axe.

I am thankful for cows and calves, and enough hay for the winter.

When I was a boy, a certain preacher would visit our church at revival time. He was an old man. When called upon to pray (And I heard him pray many times.) he would always say at the ending of his prayer, “And thank you, Lord, that I woke up this morning and put my feet on the floor in a sound mind.” If you have all your marbles, be thankful.

And borrowing words from John Newton; if you have already come “through many dangers, toils, and snares,” give thanks.

May you be blessed with a grateful heart this Holiday Season.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

All God's Creatures

I suppose I’ve always been a livestock man. I grew up with hogs, cattle, chickens, sheep, horses, mules, cats and dogs. Cattle and hogs were a feature on the farm where I spent my formative years. My grandfather had a small flock of sheep in the Brim hollow. Lest I forget, he also had a herd of goats. These were the old-fashioned goats – white goats that ate briars, bushes, small trees and ridded the hollow of rattlesnakes.

My father was a tobacco man and cared little for tending livestock. He found it a matter of necessity to keep critters around. It was good that cows had a way of taking care of themselves. He enjoyed growing and harvesting hay, but he found herd management more of a nuisance than a pleasure. He pretty much expected the hogs to take care of themselves as well. If my brother John had not come along and taken over the swine part of our farming operation, the results would have been meager. But, at age 13, John came to my father’s rescue.

In the 1960’s there were 4 John McCall’s residing on Route 2, Carthage, TN – John Alexander McCall, John A. McCall, Jr., John E. McCall, and John D. McCall. It became very confusing especially when my brother, John’s breeding hog business began to take off. Potential hog buyers from all over the southeast would contact telephone operators seeking John McCall’s number. To solve the problem, my brother changed his listing in the phone book to John “Pig” McCall. I can hear the telephone operator to this day saying, “I have a John “Pig” McCall.” To which the potential buyer would reply, “That’s him!” After all these years, my brother John is known as “Pigman.”

When each of my father’s sons reached the age of 13, he purchased for us a      “3-in-1” package. (A 3-in-1 is a cow with a calf with another one on the way.) That’s how we got in the cattle business. I well remember the first calf I sold from my 3 -in-1. He weighed 600 lbs. and brought $25.75 per hundred or $154.50. I thought I was rich!

In the years which followed I was allowed to grow a small herd as a part of my father’s larger herd. At one time I owned 10 cows. They put me through college.

When I was 16 Mr. Bobby Woodard hired me to clerk the livestock sale at Farmer’s Commission Co. in South Carthage, TN. That was my introduction to livestock marketing. After I left that job to attend the University of Tennessee, I became a part of the meats judging and the livestock judging teams at UT. That opened up a whole new world to this country boy. In my years at UT I took judging trips to Madison, WS, Chicago, Baltimore, Starkville, MS, Kansas City, Houston and a few places I have forgotten.

That experience prepared me to judge hog and cattle shows throughout the southeast.

Throughout the many years I have pulled calves, docked lambs, worked cattle, scaped hog pens, filled feeders, set up all night with sows giving birth, driven thousands of miles to hog shows, fed mules, dehorned calves, castrated pigs, and done hundreds of things tied to livestock management. I must say I have enjoyed it all.

I guess that’s why I hold on to small herd of cows. I could give them up and it would make my life a little easier. But something would be missing. Something, I suppose, which keeps me tied to the land…and its livestock.

Some things are worth holding on to.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall       

The Old Feed Barn

I spent many an hour in our old feed barn. To a boy it seemed vast in its size and expanse. I became intimately familiar with each stable and hallway. I  especially enjoyed the large barn loft which provided endless opportunities for exploring. But I suppose the old corn crib stands out most in my memory.

Situated on the west side of our barn it featured a 4’x4’ “window” all of 10 feet above ground level. It allowed a man, with corn scoop in hand, to stand on a wagon bed and “pitch” ear corn into the crib. The crib’s wooden floor lay two feet above ground. When the crib was filled to the window, it showcased a mountain of ear corn no less than 8 feet tall. As the crib filled with corn each fall, my father placed boards, each above the other, at the crib door to keep the corn from flowing out into the upper hallway. As the level of corn was reduced, the boards came down one at a time. Working your way through that door was challenging to say the least. It was important to avoid a corn avalanche.

A crib filled with ear corn had two best friends – barn cats and chicken snakes. My brothers and I were given strict instructions to leave the chicken snakes alone. They played an important role in keeping rodent numbers down. And any mice the snakes didn’t get, the barn cats did.

I had a silent arrangement with the chicken snakes – “You don’t bother me, I don’t bother you.” I will admit, though, it’s a bit unsettling to be sitting in a pile of shucks while shucking corn and happen upon a snake’s “shedding.” You knew the snake couldn’t be too far away.

Our feed barn always featured a goodly number of barn cats. My father encouraged their multiplying – more cats, fewer rats. Sometimes, to the cats’ delight, he provided them with a pan of warm cow’s milk. I’ve watched a throng of cats sit patiently in hopes of getting in on the cow’s milk. My father was skilled in the art of milking a cow. He could squeeze a cow’s tit and hit a cat’s mouth with a stream of milk all the way across barn hallway. To see a cat licking fresh warm milk off its face is a picture I will not soon forget.

I was often sent on a mission to find new egg nests in the mountain of square bales of hay stacked high in the barn loft. It seemed the hens preferred the higher elevations. The secret was to find the nests before they had been their too long. A nest filled with eggs (I’m talking two dozen or more.) was not always a good find, especially in the summer time. Good, fertile eggs could go bad pretty quickly. I learned to hold an egg up to my ear and shake it gently. A bad egg is a dead give-away. (They don’t teach these things in schools these days.)

Is there anything that smells worse than a rotten egg? I was sprayed in the face by a baby skunk one time. It was bad. It was nauseating. It was debilitating. But it didn’t make me want to lose by breakfast like the smell of a rotten egg.

A feed barn presented the perfect setting for a corn cob battle. The corn crib provided an ample supply of ammunition, and there were plenty of places to hide and stage forays.

I remember one particularly heated battle involving the Ellenburg brothers. That day, I got hit in the head with a wet corn cob. I found out that a wet corn cob gathered much more velocity than a dry one. The battle went back and forth until someone discovered a nest of rotten eggs. I was the first casualty.

That brought the corn cob battle to a screeching halt!

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

Trinkets or Treasures

You’ve probably read or heard according to the latest estimates Americans spent $12.1 billion dollars on Halloween this year. That’s right $12.1 billion…on Halloween. I suppose the big winners were retailers, candy manufacturers, and the American Dental Association. That is a mind-boggling statistic. Let me say it again - $12.1 billion.

$12.1 billion dollars spent on candy, costumes, parties, and decorations celebrating ghosts, goblins, skeletons, witches, werewolves, black cats and anything else darkness can conger up. And for all practical purposes it’s all over in a day. Except, of course, for all the candy which shall be sorted through, eaten, or thrown away. What a way to usher in the Holiday Season!

When I was a young man, an older friend (I thought he was old. He was probably no more than 50.) said to me, “Son, you think time passes quickly now, just wait until you get my age!” I should have taken his words more seriously.

What I have found is with each passing year time indeed seems to accelerate. For me this past October was a blur. Surely, November will not pass so quickly. By the time most of my readers read this column Thanksgiving will be less than 2 weeks away. Christmas will be right on its heels. Best we take a deep breath and make some plans.

There’s a not-so-old saying that goes like this: “If you are failing to plan, you’re planning to fail.”

I’m big on making Thanksgiving lists. Every year I encourage my friends and acquaintances to start a list well before Thanksgiving Day arrives. I suggest a list numbered 1 through 25 – a list of the things for which you are most thankful. This simple exercise will broaden your mind and expand your heart. Best you start on your list early. As the old folks use to say, “Thanksgiving Day will be here before you know it!”

Plan a few short visits this Holiday season. Go see someone who might be lonely. You don’t have to stay long. You don’t even have to take a gift. Your presence will be the present. And here’s a thought. Should you have lots of food left over after Thanksgiving dinner with family, load up a plate of food and share it with someone who has no family with whom to celebrate. When you get together with family, don’t forget to talk to the kids. Ask lots of questions. Kids are people, too.

When I was a kid our family celebrated Christmas on the Sunday after Christmas with my maternal grandmother’s family. It was a family group we only saw once each year. Every year my great-uncle Jack interviewed me. He always took the initiative. Sometime during the day, he would track me down for conversation. And every year he would refer to things we talked about the year before. I was some impressed by the interest he took in me. Over six decades have passed and I still remember.

If you start now, you have plenty of time to be creative in your gift giving. Put some thought into it. You’ve heard it said, “It’s the thought that counts.” It is the same way with choosing gifts. If you have to spend extra money to make a memory, do it. Thoughtful gift givers have learned the difference between trinkets and treasures.

And finally, this Holiday season stash an extra $5 or $10 or $20 or more in your purse or wallet and be on the lookout for persons to whom you might give it. If you look for the opportunity, it will present itself.  

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

Fear

I had the privilege of being a part of the professional speaking circuit for over 35 years, being a “full-timer” from 2000 to 2020. During those years, I traveled and made speaking presentations in all 50 of these United States. It was a wonderful and fulfilling experience to work with speaker’s bureaus, and meeting planners; and speaking before a wide variety of audiences.

My first experience in front of an “audience” came in my 17th year when a crusty, old Sunday School teacher named Reece Enoch suggested I teach his adult class. Teaching the Bible became my “calling.” You might say I have been “at it” for 55 years now.

hat teaching experience and my work on the professional speaking platform has landed me in many a church. Over the years I have filled in for preachers, performed wedding ceremonies, and delivered eulogies at funerals. Sometimes the weight of responsibility has been overwhelming.

I have never attended a denominational seminary or taken a seminary course. I would stop well short of saying I have been self-taught. I have been schooled, but that is a subject, both deep and strong, which should be saved for another day.  

Somewhere along the way I was introduced to the concept of “the whole council of God.” You’ve heard the saying, “a little knowledge is a dangerous thing?” So, it is with the Bible.

I have come to know there are “silver threads” that run throughout the scriptures from Genesis to the Book of Revelation. Among those silver threads are God’s Grace, Faith, and His patience and longsuffering toward humankind to name a few.

But one which rings out; and is especially fitting for these times is the command to “fear not!”

My friend, Dr. Ben Bissell, psychologist and educator, explained in one of his seminars the difference between “fear” and “anxiety” or “being afraid” or “anxious.” He gives this example.

If on a hike on a trail in the Great Smokey Mountains you met another hiker who informed you he saw a big bear back up the trail, then, you might become “anxious.” You might, or might not, ever see the bear, but the possibility of seeing a bear creates anxiety. Anxiety is driven by possibility.

On the other hand, if you continue your hike, and encounter that big bear, now you have a reason to be afraid. Fear has a definite source.

At the beginning of World War II, President Franklin Roosevelt sought to calm a nation by saying, “We have nothing to fear, but fear itself.” That sounded good, but it simply wasn’t true.

When the 12 spies were sent to spy out the land of promise, they did a thorough job of evaluating, and brought back an accurate assessment. But the majority brought back “an evil report,” speaking of giants and a land which would devour the people. And the hearts of the people “melted.” (with fear.)  Of course, we know the rest of the story. Undealt with fear paralyzes.

And the word came to Joshua, “Be strong and of a good courage, be not afraid, neither be dismayed….”

Remember the man who received only one talent? Do you know why he buried it? He said, “I was afraid.”

Mark Twain once said, “I’m an old man, and I have seen a lot of trouble - most of which never happened.

Someone once said, “Never take inventory of your fears.”

Jesus said, “Be anxious for nothing…”

I had great respect for the late Dr. Norman Vincent Peale. He once quoted a line from a book titled Fear, by Boswell Kane.

It goes like this: “Be bold, and mighty powers will come to your aid!”

I believe that to be true.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall                   

A 1960 Chevrolet

There aren’t many objects (things) that deeply captivate  my memory. Most of my most vivid recollections are tied to people and experiences. Usually some kind of strong emotion is involved. But when this time of year rolls around, I always think of a dark blue, 1960 Chevrolet. The image is crystal clear and lasting.

High school football season is in full swing. During my school days in the 1950’s and 1960’s high school football was a big deal in our part of the world.

It was during those years in the 1950’s and 1960’s that the late Turney Ford became a Middle Tennessee high school football coaching legend. At the height of his coaching popularity in 1959, the football boosters in Carthage (Smith County) presented Coach Ford with a new 1960 Chevrolet. It was dark blue. As you might recall the 1960 Chevys had the big fins on the back corners, as did the 1959 models. I was eight years old, and I was some more impressed. A new car! I thought it was beautiful.

Experiences impact our psyche more or less due to our particular perspectives. Up until 1959 my family had never owned a car. Our primary means of transportation was a pick-up truck. My father bought new pick-up trucks in 1948, 1958, and 1968.  It was 1961 when we acquired our first car, a Chevrolet Parkwood station wagon. My experience observing the citizenry of Carthage giving Coach Ford a brand new car made a life-long impression on me. Coach Ford drove that car for years. Seeing that 1960 Chevy always made me smile.

The closest thing to a play-off back in those years was the Tobacco Bowl played in Hartsville. To quote sports announcer Keith Jackson, the Tobacco Bowl was “the granddaddy of them all.”  It was the premier high school football bowl game in all of Middle Tennessee. And in many of those years it pitted Turney Ford’s Carthage Owls against the other best team the mid-state  had to offer. Battle Ground Academy (BGA) usually comes to mind when I recall Tobacco Bowls of the past. The Tobacco Bowl was a happening.

A half-time feature of every Tobacco Bowl was the Tennessee A&I marching band. Tennessee A&I was later named Tennessee State University. The A&I marching band was worth the price of the ticket. The band was spectacular. I always arrived early just to see the band members get off the Trailway buses.  The half-time show - you had to see to believe. I had never seen marching in quarter time until I saw the A&I band. And the band members could play instruments like no other band I have ever heard. Like I said, the Tobacco bowl was a happening.

And the games were always “slobber knockers,” hard fought and played with tremendous pride. It was before the days of weight rooms and strength and conditioning programs. Most football players, like the earliest and best Roman soldiers, were boys who came right off the farm. They were strong and tough as pine knots from haling hay and cutting tobacco and digging post holes and milking cows and pulling up stumps with their bare hands.

To many, those were the glory days of Carthage High School football. State championships were mythical, play-offs were in the future, and Carthage was considered a mid-state powerhouse coached by a legend. 

But much like today, a coach’s job is only as safe as last year’s won-loss record. Eventually Coach Turney Ford fell out of favor with the powers that be and was replaced. He moved on to Gordonsville High School where he continued to build on his legend. The last time I attended a football game in Gordonsville I smiled when I read the sign which read, “Turney Ford Field.”

Turney Ford was a great coach and a good man, and he helped shape the lives of many fine young men.

I can see him now, climbing behind the wheel of that dark blue, 1960 Chevrolet.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall