“It’s a leftover. What a sad word that is. Leftover. How would you like to be… a leftover? Well, it wouldn’t be bad if they were taking people out to be shot. I might even volunteer.” – George Carlin

Right about now, each of us is on roughly our third idea for how to do something different with all of the leftovers from Thanksgiving. We’ve eaten our fourth turkey sandwich, maybe tried to make turkey salad out of it, and the ...

I don’t remember much about it, but I do remember riding a train.

The adventure began with a discussion about passenger train rides coming to an end. My mom and grandmother were discussing how sad it was that, before long, you wouldn’t be able to use the train as a means of travel.

The decision was made to take me on a train ride before the opportunity was gone.

I was about three years old.

This memory came back to me as we were ...

When I started driving in the early 1970s, many of the cars on the road had a manual transmission. Being less expensive than an automatic transmission, most kids had a stick shift. An automatic was a luxury, just like having an air conditioner, so that’s how a vast majority of young people learned how to drive – with a stick and no AC.

Today, if you look around, an air conditioner is in almost every vehicle. But the stick shift? Not ...

I first noticed him early one morning on the side of the road. He was sitting outside a fence that surrounded a small building.

You’ve seen those buildings. They’re one of those small, remote buildings that utility companies use for maintenance. Every now and then, you’ll see the gate and building door open and a company truck parked out front while the maintenance man or woman is inside doing whatever it is they do.

But this day, there was no open gate ...

I opened my Facebook app on my phone and saw that I had three private messages.

Two were the typical, “Please forward this before a worldwide virus overtakes everyone on Facebook,” kind of thing. But one was a message from someone I don’t hear from often – my cousin, Randy.

Randy is the middle child of my mom’s oldest sister. He and his older brother, Doug, and I would hang out during holidays when we were growing up, but I also used ...

I waited six months to talk to him. That’s what his receptionist told me the wait time was for an interview when I called his Beverly Hills office in early 1984.

Since he was my childhood idol, I was willing to wait the required one-half year to have him on my radio show. And wait, I did.

“Alright,” I said. “Six months from today is August 8^th. What time should I call?”

“Noon,” she answered.

“Noon it is,” I responded. And then I ...

One of my most vivid memories of fall happened during junior high. I was standing in the end zone prior to the start of a game. I could barely feel my fingers and toes.

It was October, but it was unusually cold (Al Gore had yet to invent global warming). My shoulder pads, helmet, and other gear typically made me sweat profusely in the Arkansas heat and humidity. But a cold front, and the rain that pushed it through, had arrived.

I ...

It was so tattered, I honestly didn’t think that it could be saved.

It was my grandmother’s quilt, and the years of use had taken its toll. My mother brought it to my wife and asked her if she could repair it. My bride is a seamstress, and a fine one at that, but I could tell by the look on her face that she wasn’t so sure it could be saved. But, she didn’t hesitate to say that she’d try.

My ...