Smoking Barrels

Back in the late Eighties, Bobby Watts and I went to Macon, Georgia for a gathering of local unions to negotiate a new name for our union.  It was an independent union.  The meeting was most interesting and entertaining.  Discussion was lively and heated from time to time, but we settled on an agreeable name, United Workers of North America.

I enjoyed meeting new people, staying in a new city, and eating at a restaurant where I had never been before. 

The restaurant was very clean, filled with antiques, and an abundance of gifts.  Bobby and I got our menus.  Best I remember Bobby had visited the restaurant before.  I was new as a union officer and “green as a gourd” as country folks say.   I had not been to all the exciting places that Bobby had, and I looked to him as a seasoned union member for his wisdom.  He helped navigate me in the name change forum.

Being a country boy, I was used to good home cooking and wanted to try something new.  The menu had some of the same foods momma and my wife cooked and I knew the restaurant food would not be as good as theirs.  My eyes found the baby back ribs and a “pine rosin” baked potato.  I had never baby back ribs but had eaten plenty “hawgs” boney ribs since we raised hogs.

I had never had a pine rosin baked potato but knew the taste of rosin from wearing it after loading pine pulp wood.  I had always eaten the “tater” peeling, but I found the rosin soaked a little repulsive and distasteful.  The inside was good. 

The restaurant where we ate that night was Cracker Barrel.  I have eaten at Cracker Barrel when traveling with disaster relief teams.  I was a good choice because of variety for our team.  My favorite dish is Mama’s French Toast.  As went ministered to those stricken by disaster, eating at Cracker Barrel allowed us to debrief and have more fun than a barrel of monkeys.

I say that because Cracker Barrel has been headlining news lately.  It started with changing the Cracker Barrel logo.  My vocation and ministry have taught me that change means resistance and sometimes corporate folks are out of touch with reality.  What works on paper sometimes will not work.

Personally, the product is what drives the consumer.  The ambiance helps.  Granny Hopper was a great cook, especially her gumbo.  She was so poor that she scraped the bottom of the barrel to make it.  He décor was not Fifth Avenue acceptable but the wood stoves that warmed the gumbo, cornbread, and biscuits were delicious.

The lady in change of the re-branding and marketing of the Cracker Barrel logo fiasco wound up over a barrel.  She must have forgotten who the clientele was.  I feel that it is part of the culture war that has crept its way into church worship, fashion design and essentially all walks of modern life lock, stock and barrel.

The silent majority that can only take so much purple hair, ripped jeans, and every other anti-culture was ammo let this lady of change let um’ have it with both barrels.  Stock in Cracker Barrel fell faster than corporate lady would have if she had gone over Niagara Falls in a barrel.

Ms. Corporate forgot Liebig’s barrel which states that growth is controlled not by total resources, but by the scarcest resource.  A barrel is just as strong as its weakest part, usually the staves.  It is not the abundance (or lack) of food that draws customers but the good taste (quality) of home cooked meals. 

Several times I have received my Momma’s French Toast burned or cold after waiting a very long time.  The food is gotten bland, and you have to ask for items such as cornbread and biscuits.  Bad food and bad service reminds me of the old saying, “One rotten apple spoils the barrel.”

The effort to change the Cracker

Barrel logo may or may have been futile effort to move an apple for change but turned over the apple cart.  Stockholders and good old country folks alike found Ms. Corporate and her cronies like shooting fish in a barrel.

The logo change cost millions of dollars and the response cost even more millions.  Free publicity could have the effect of the “Pork Barrel” or the “Bankruptcy Barrel.”   All this change could be politically motivated as was the “Bud Light” beer barrel fiasco trying the culture change to achieve WOKE and broke.

All the news makes one wonder did the board have a small barrel (keg) of beer while sitting in whiskey barrel seats and using a barrel (syringe) administering a synthetic drug before making their decision.

As of this article, Ms. Corporate and the strategy listed to the little old ladies with blue hair and the old timers that wore ragged blue jeans as kids and decided not to change the Cracker Barrel logo.  I remember the barrels of pickles and crackers, hoop cheese, tubes of baloney, and a six once Coke.  There were powder barrels (kegs) and double-barreled shotguns.  There are venders that wore empty barrels draped across shoulders for advertisements. 

Thinking of all that has happened could be a barrel of laughs.  It reminds all of us to listen to those that have experienced life and learn from their mistakes.  Ms. Corporate and the board remind me of my daughter Angel that used to say, “Daddy I want to learn from my own mistakes.”  I told her that she will but life is better if we learn from the mistakes of others.

 

And king Rehoboam consulted with the old men, that stood before Solomon his father while he yet lived, and said, How do ye advise that I may answer this people?  And they spake unto him, saying, If thou wilt be a servant unto this people this day, and wilt serve them, and answer them, and speak good words to them, then they will be thy servants for ever.  But he forsook the counsel of the old men, which they had given him, and consulted with the young men that were grown up with him, and which stood before him:  And he said unto them, What counsel give ye that we may answer this people, who have spoken to me, saying, Make the yoke which thy father did put upon us lighter?  And the young men that were grown up with him spake unto him, saying, Thus shalt thou speak unto this people that spake unto thee, saying, Thy father made our yoke heavy, but make thou it lighter unto us; thus shalt thou say unto them, My little finger shall be thicker than my father's loins.  I Kings 12:6-10 KJV

Got To Get It Out

Growing up can be painful because life has thorns, splinters, briers, and nettles that find their way into us.  We had a black locust tree that had thorns.  Momma said they were poison.  They were very uncomfortable when they penetrated our skin.  The holes would be sore and usually get infected.  Treatment consisted of Epson Salt, turpentine, and other home remedies. 

In Sunday school were studied about Jesus having a crown of thorns shoved onto his head.  The Hopper boys decided to make one from the black locust and being the inquisitive boys we were placed it on our heads.  It hurt!  We couldn’t imagine the pain that Jesus endured from the thorns much less the crucifixion.

Having had thorns stuck into me, it made the Apostle Paul’s thorn in the flesh more understandable.  He must have had some terrible pin to call it a thorn in the flesh.

We have always handled wood whether it be firewood, lumber, used boards, and pulpwood.  When you work with wood there will be splinters.  You get them in your fingers, in your arms, and other various body parts and you ask, “How did I get a splinter there.”

Left alone splinters fester and make you sore.  One on the worst I had was under a fingernail.  It went so deep that I could not pull it out.  Momma was our general practitioner, and she did most of the doctoring.  The deeper the splinter, the deeper momma dug.  She was very effective in surgical removal of most splinters.

The one under my fingernail was no problem for momma.  She took some fingernail clippers and cut the nail until she recovered the splinter.  It was a relief, but fingernails cut down into the quick hurt too.

A large splinter threaded my skin one day and rather than trying to pull it out the way it went in, momma just pulled it all the way through.  That was sore too.

Cancer is a family trait.  One time my brother David had knots on his head.  Naturally he worried and eventually visited a specialist to see if the knots were cancer.  The doctor was puzzled.  As he biopsied the contents of the knots, he realized it was wooden splinters.  David had a knot head.  He received the splinters where he had carried sheets of plywood on his head while building houses.  We laughed and were relieved.  Daddy always called us knot heads.

Briers protect things that are edible and pretty.  If you grow roses, you grow briers.  My wife Lisa saw these beautiful white roses at an old house place.  She wanted some.  Walking through the rose vines I had my share tiny places oozing droplets of blood.  The vines seem to run forever before I found the main roots.  I dug some, planted them in the front yard and made a trellis for them.  Lisa has the most beautiful brier vines.  Every time I prune them, I get more tiny holes oozing blood droplets.

Last week while mowing the lawn near the trellis, long green briers reached out to grab me.  I dodged them but a wild dewberry brier growing from a fig tree grabbed my left arm.  My arm had a trail of tiny holes and briers.

Wild dewberries and blackberries are a staple fruit in Alabama.  Every rural woman had to have them for making jellies.  When I eat homemade blackberry jelly, it reminds me of the sweat, blood, and red bugs bites I got while harvesting them.  I think that maybe the red bug bites are the worst.

Needles from cactus and bull nettle will prick you too.  One week my baby son Aaron spent the week with his granddaddy Moxley.  He had the time of his life with his Pawpaw except he came home with a red place in the bend of his right arm.

I asked him what happened, and he said he walk by a sticker bush.  I thought is must have been a bull nettle.  His redness worsened and I could not see any visible marks.

Finally, I sat him on the bathroom sink where the sun shined bright.  I took his tiny arm as he held it out straight.  He said it was not hurting.  I took my thumb and index finger and pinched his skin.  I noticed there was something in the bend of his arm.  I asked him did he trust me, and he said he did.  He did not like needles.

I sterilized a sewing needle and penetrated his skin at the end of the bulge.  When I opened it up, a needle longer than an inch slowly slid exited his arm.  I pinched the skin again and the second bulged like the first.

Squeezing the bulge, I could see another object trying to exit the place.  I got a second and then a third.  I knew Aaron was a tough little boy and the three nettle needles roved it.  He was tickled and I was glad that Doctor Momma taught me how to remove thorns, splinters, biers, and needles.  All these evil intrusions if not removed will fester and cause pain.

 

    And lest I should be exalted above measure through the abundance of the revelations, there was given to me a thorn in the flesh, the messenger of Satan to buffet me, lest I should be exalted above measure.  II Corinthians 12:7 KJV

   And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?  Or how wilt thou say to thy brother, Let me pull out the mote out of thine eye; and, behold, a beam is in thine own eye?  Thou hypocrite, first cast out the beam out of thine own eye; and then shalt thou see clearly to cast out the mote out of thy brother's eye. Matthew 7: 3-5 KJV

And there shall be no more a pricking brier unto the house of Israel, nor any grieving thorn of all that are round about them, that despised them; and they shall know that I am the Lord GOD. Ezekiel 28:24 KJV

Among the bushes they brayed; under the nettle they were gathered together. Job 30:7 KJV

Suddenly Bobby Felt Very Alone

Thirteen has always been one of my favorite numbers because that was the day I was born in December 1952.  Friday the thirteenth has been my favorite day.  One of my most memorable Fridays the thirteen happened forty-nine years ago this week.  It is one of the anniversaries that I celebrate.

It was 1976 while I was working as an apprentice machinist for Linefast Corporation in Montevallo, Alabama where we produced items used by cargo shipping containers.  I experienced a first that Friday the thirteenth.  I was fired!  There had been some problems and irregularities at Linefast and the men there wanted to have a conference with the owner.  The owner had a partner in New York.

When the meeting took place, I found that I was ushered to the lead.  I had all the wisdom and know-it-all of twenty-three years.  That day I realized that people do a lot of talking but very few will address the issues if they have a rambunctious twenty-three to be the idiot fall guy.

I was the happy dad of our first-born Andy who was born in January of 1976.  One of our issues was insurance.  Linefast paid part of the premium and employees paid the other part.  St. Vincent’s hospital in Birmingham informed me with a monthly bill that the insurance had not paid for the delivery of Andy.

When I questioned Linefast’s corporate office in New York about the delay, they offered excuses and said they would pay.  They never did.  What “broke the camel’s back” was that the owner at Montevallo said there was no insurance that paid for delivering babies.

I produced my policy and showed him that I did have maternity coverage.

When I lead the meeting, things got heated especially when the owner realized that I caught one of the inconsistencies.  Employees were paying one insurance premium to Linefast and we received another policy.

As I aired the grievances, they were said and I realized I was standing alone.  All the men that had encouraged me to speak were gone.  The owner said, “You’re fired.”  It was dinner time and I asked for my pay.  He initially said no, but I reminded him that he paid us every Friday.  He paid me.  I went home, changed clothes, and started the process of job hunting that Friday afternoon.

Having no luck, I returned home and noticed fresh tire tracks in our dirt drive.  I recognized them as the mud grip tires of my former boss’ pickup.  He had come to apologize and offer my job back.

We had a good meeting and I told him it was best that I move on and find another job.  We parted friends and remained friends until Linefast shut down and the owner moved away.  Linefast Corporation paid St. Vincent’s hospital bill.  I did not owe anything.  I did not find another job until October, 13, 1976 when I started at the Cement Plant in Calera.

The time off was difficult.  With no work came no pay.  No pay and job turned to stress.  Everyone blamed me.  Their condemnation, anger, and discouragement got the best of me.  One day after a jobless opportunity, frustration got the best of me.  I pulled into mom and dad’s drive and the weight of the world drove and bowed me into depression.  All alone I lay in the seat of my old Ford pickup when dad drove into the yard.

He walked to my truck and asked me what was wrong.  For the next few moments I poured my heart to him.  I told him that everyone was upset with me, even him.  I told him what happened.  Most family and friends only knew that I had been fired and not the circumstances that transpired. 

He asked, “Did you stand for what was right?”  I told him that I had.  He said, “Then I am with you.  When you are right and know it don’t back down from it.  Just remember son that when your make a stand be prepared to stand alone.”  Since that afternoon, I have made many stands and most of them have been alone.

 

Therefore, my beloved brethren, be ye stedfast, unmoveable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, forasmuch as ye know that your labour is not in vain in the Lord. (I Corinthians 15:58 KJV)

 

One of my favorite cartoonist's is Gary Larson creator of The Far Side.  I had one his masterpieces that I kept on our refrigerator for years.  It was a baby dinosaur walking on the road.  Dressed in baseball cap carrying a bat and glove on his shoulder among three caves with extinct signs above their openings the caption said, Suddenly, Bobby felt very alone in the world.”   Yep, been there done that and thought of it a lot.

Can You Hold for a Second

It never ceases to amaze me that with all the technology at our fingertips how much we have to wait, especially at fast-food restaurants.  Sometimes after taking an order, you are asked to pull up.  Sometimes they ask you can you wait for a second which translated is approximately five minutes. The other night Lisa and I made a spontaneous run to Wendy’s in Calera, Alabama.  She wanted a sour cream and butter baked potato covered in chili.

As we crossed I 65 and Wendy’s came into view we knew we were in trouble.  We weren’t dressed to eat inside, not that it would be faster, and noticed that the drive-thru was filled with automobiles all the way into the main street.  It was not a good sign.

As we entered into the caravan of vehicles, one impatient customer got out of the modern-day wagon train and tried to exit.  It took a moment of two but finally got loose.  We took the spot.

We waited a very long time before there was any movement.  I told Lisa to take time and in two minutes we would leave.   There was movement and another car pulled behind us blocking any exit we may have attempted.  I noticed that the SUV in front of us was from Texas.  I thought to myself, “Welcome to Alabama.”

Slowly we circled Wendy’s like Indians.  To be politically correct, Native Americans which I am.  Granny Hopper was part Cherokee or Creek.  Then right there in front of us was the latest in fast food convenience, an AI ready to take our order and expedite our visit.

It was fun talking with artificial intelligence.  There was no muffled sound like someone holding his or her hand over their mouth.  It was very plain.  I told AI that I wanted a sour cream and butter baked potato, number 6 spicy chicken combo and could I swap the fries for a chili.  Of course, AI obliged and kept asking, “What drink?”  She was asking what drink with the baked potato while I was asking for the number 6.  She asked if I wanted to make it a large and I said, “Sure.”

Our long-extended wait continued to grow longer, and we were committed to hang in there as my lovely wife say, “Like a hair hung in a biscuit.”  Finally, we were the fourth car in line from the window of delicious delight.  The poor Texan was not financially poor but unfortunate, arrived at the window of tasty satisfaction.   The Texan handed the window lady plastic money and received a small drink.  After what seemed an eternity, the window lady handed a small bag to the Texan.  I do not know what it was but it took a while for the kitchen to catch it, clean it, and cook it.

Finally, Lisa and I arrived at our destination.  The window with an indignant grin and blinking of eyes said, “We are out of chili.”  I asked, “Would you repeat that?”  She replied with a look of arrogance at an old man, “We are out of chili, and it takes three hours to make.”  It was 9:25 pm and I said I drove twenty miles for some chili.  She looked at me as to say, “So.”  I told her to have a good night and drove off empty handed.

Lisa and I went back across I65 to another fast-food restaurant that had a real person taking the order.  The cashier asked if we needed condiments and was very courteous and helpful.  The fries were cooked just right and were hot and salty.  The roast beef on our sandwiches were very good.  Lisa said, “I’m glad Wendy’s did not have chili!”  I started to tell her we would wait on the chili.  I bet that would have wiped that smug off here face.  I felt like we had been in line for two hours already.  I thought about this article and how the Bible tells us to wait.  I looked it up and immediately the web page responded with 245 times in KJV.

 

Isaiah 40:31: "But those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint."