Buck's Compass

The story begins one morning back in the 1970's at the Blue Circle Cement plant in Calera, Alabama. “Pawpaw” Hubbard, foreman for the labor crew, quizzed “Coon Dawg” concerning the whereabouts of his coon hunting buddy, “Buck.”

Coon Dawg was disingenuous as to the whereabout of Buck. Pawpaw knew that two of his prime laborers had planned a coon hunting on the previous day. “You and Buck go coon hunting last night?” Coon Dawg, with denying shyness, mumbled a feeble negative.

Most all of us knew that they had been coon hunting. Their passion for coon hunting was notorious. Registered hounds, four-wheel drive pickups, hunting gear, and any accessories they could buy, beg, or trade they owned.

Buck had bragged that he had a new compass for coon hunting. This was before GPS and smart phones. For years coon hunters used knowledge of the woods, sounds of the dogs, and memory to hunt coons. Hunters would train dogs to primarily to hunt coons and reject the scents of deer and other creatures of the nocturnal. Possum hunting was another pastime but coon hunting primary.

One time Buck secured a load to buy his wife a new washer and dryer. Buck bought a coon dog instead. One night the dog, Old Blue was in hot pursuit of a coon. The coon crossed the Southern Norfork train tracks, but Old Blue did not. No washer and dryer, no coon dog, and no coon.

There was a very large tale circulating in the plant about a poor blue tick hound that Southern Railroad paid for hitting. As most coon hunting stories go, it was said that the blue tick owner bought a new washer and dryer for his wife.

Buck did not report to work, and Coon Dawg shuffled around all day as an alcoholic with a hangover. Here’s what happened according to Buck.

Coon Dawg and Buck went hunting in Bibb County Alabama in the Talladega National Forest. Buck was excited to try his new compass. Seven miles from the Talladega National Forest Highway they released their dogs and listened to the dogs bark as the followed the scent of a coon.

As the sounds of the barking changed tunes and grew intense, Buck decided to find the dogs leaving Coon Dawn in the warm pickup truck. Coon Dawg was a little on the skittish side and said he would just wait until the dog treed.

Buck used his compass to locate the dogs and made his way toward them. Coon Dawg’s imagination ran wild as shadows came alive, sounds grew horrific, and stars disappeared. Darkness was not an old friend but a demonic surrounding capturing Coon Dawg who quickly escaped into the woods screaming for Buck.

Hollering back and forth Coon Dawg found Buck. The dogs stopped hunting. Buck used the compass to locate the pickup. Coon Dawg, lost to where he was stayed close to Buck. As they approached the clearing where they left the pickup, Buck noticed that Coon Dawg fled the pickup so quickly that he forgot to turn off the lights. The dynamic salt-pepper duo once again had no dogs, no coons, and now no battery. Their journey to the highway was a long four miles of walking in darkness with flashlights as way to see.

After hours of walking, they made it to US Highway 82. As the sun shined a faint pink, they tried to hitchhike. Two bearded, nasty, muddy, nomads at the breaking of dawn watched as vehicle after vehicle slowed only to speed away when the two mountain men tried to flag a ride.

Buck told Coon Dawg to wait in the ditch in hopes someone would not. That did not work either. It was more horrifying when Coon Dawg jumped from the ditch. They made it home. Coon Dawg reached the plant minutes before worktime. The following day, Buck bragged about using the compass and the foolish scaredy-cat Coon Dawg. Buck and Coon Dawg should have used a moral compass.

A compass is essential for navigating. The world which we live in dynamic. The earth is changing every day. From early explorers that used a technique called “shooting” to find their latitude (north or south position) by measuring how high above the horizon the Polaris (North Star) appeared at nightfall using a sextant.

Today a digital smart phone compass uses magnetometers to measure magnetic fields. By measuring the strength and direction of Earth’s magnetic field, it can determine which way is north.

A moral compass is essential for navigating life’s ethical challenges, helping society make decisions that align with values that contribute positively to community. Without a moral compass there is anarchy and a rapidly decaying society as we are experiencing today. God gave Moses Ten Commandments or a moral compass.

“Therefore all things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them: for this is the law and the prophets.” Matthew 7:12 KJV

“Let every soul be subject unto the higher powers. For there is no power but of God: the powers

that be are ordained of God.” Romans 13:1 KJV

 

Note: In Colbert County Alabama is the Key Underwood Coon Dog Memorial Graveyard. Dedicated to the burial of coonhounds since the 1930’s. You can use a GPS to locate it.

The Hopper Clan Christmas

Wow, wonderful, fantastic, and great were words that described Saturday January 10, 2026. It was a big day in the life of the Hoppers. We had our family Christmas with fifty-seven members attending at the family farm at Sugar Ridge in Jemison, Alabama. It was the perfect morning for those of us that love it gray, overcast, cool, and rainy.

J M and Leecie Hopper would have been proud of all the children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren having a prodigious day. The day started at eleven with a funeral of my niece’s grandfather. The rain was steady, and we all thought that the turnout might be small, but the dinner did not begin until two in the afternoon.

Returning from the funeral, a sizable crowd gathered at Sugar Ridge. Rain was drizzling heavily. My youngest brother fried fish in an iron pot, and my middle brother boiled gumbo in another iron pot beside him. There were uncles, nephews, and small children onlooking in anticipation of samples from the pots. The fish samples were delicious.

Inside all the women were steadily preparing the fixin’s to accompany the fish and gumbo. Fish and grits, turnip green soup, cornbread, and rice were hot from the stove. Nephews battered the fish and then battered oysters which my brother cooked. One sister-in-law brought home-made apple bread. My wife made an apple cake, Hors d’oeuvres, white chocolate covered Ritz crackers filled with peanut butter, a meat tray and stuff for sandwiches, and more.

When all was ready, I, being the patriarch of the Hopper Clan, offered up a Christmas prayer of thanksgiving. Just as in a story, the rain stopped, the sky lit up and dozens of children hit the yard finding mudholes, pools of water, and anything else they could explore. The hills and hollers were loud with the sound of laughter and screams as barefooted kids chased chickens, a dog, and a tomcat.

There were no electronics, just kids with imaginations and swinging in tree swings, rolling in the wet grass, and getting mud between their toes, up their backs, and on their faces. It was a special moment of noise that had long been absence. There were no arguments or upset folks, only smiles and laughter. Everyone agreed that God had given us a great family and glorious day to celebrate Christmas. The gift we shared and received was love.

Some of the family played a card game called swoop. Then they played “My Weird Family.” The family voted my sister the winner. One tradition we have when at Sugar Ridge is to take a picture of the family on the steps of our front porch. I worried that the weight might be an issue, but it held the family.

One by one family members began their journeys home to places from Birmingham and central Alabama to Gulf Shores and the Bay. Some of the family stayed for the baptism of one of the great grandnieces. We wanted to make sure her baptism waters were dirty. She did say that she did want to scare the preacher with some dye to color it. She has the spirit if a true Hopper. We concluded with Sunday Dinner at my sister’s home. She lives in the shadows of the giant peach tower on Interstate 65 in Clanton.

J M died in 1984 and Leecie died in 1987. Their desire was for us to love one another. We try to honor that desire. It was so much fun watching the kids making trails to the old home site where J M and Leccie raised us. I think that the good earth of Sugar Ridge felt revised. I know that the Hopper Clan did. Thank you, Lord, for a great day.

Honour thy father and thy mother: that thy days may be long upon the land which the LORD thy God giveth thee. Exodus 20:12a

 

 

 

 

People Are Leaving the Stands

            Organized football played an important role in my life. I love to play it. The first real live football game I saw was the one I played in junior high. My first day of practice, the coaches put me head up on the best lineman on the team. I asked the coach what he wanted me to do. He said, “Tackle the man with the ball.” That sounded simple enough. I took my 125-pound, seventh-grade frame and gallantly attacked that massive all-state junior offensive tackle. When the dust settled, I was under a pile of massive humanity. I loved every moment, even though my body hurt.

            Momma tried to get me to quit every day. Our family had one automobile, which my daddy drove to work. We lived seven miles from the school. That was enough distance to walk out the soreness after practice. I would never tell her I hurt, but she could see it.

            Most mothers would have forced their sons to quit. Other mothers would have given up trying to persuade their sons to stop playing. Momma was consistent. When I entered my senior year, she was still begging me to quit. She kept saying that those big boys were going to hurt me. I could not convince her that I was one of the big boys.

            Every young boy should play some kind of team sport. I learned so many valuable lessons. The teamwork, camaraderie, and discipline are wonderful growing experience that one can relate to all through life.

            One of my greatest life-changing events took place during the first game of my senior season. We thought we had a decent team and had high expectations. The visiting team had beaten us two years in a row. This was their third year to have a football team, and the scores were very close. The seniors really wanted this game.

            The stands were always full for our football games. Even the year we won only one game the stands were full. We were never beaten badly, and the people attended in anticipation of a win.

            We kicked off to our opponents and the crowd went wild. Very early in the game the people in the stands were quiet. With 1:20 left in the second quarter, our opponents led 28–0. I remember the time, because my teammates and I looked up to see people leaving the game. We looked at the clock and saw the time. One of my teammates yelled, “People are leaving the stands.” We did score before halftime and made it a 28–7 game.

            I've never liked halftime. I never got liquids or candy, but got more than I needed of chewing out from the coach. It was that way the whole time I played football. Admonishment was never favorable, seldom encouraging, and always discouraging. I always played my best, so I learned to tune the destructive criticism out of my mind.

            In the second half, our running back ran sixty-five yards for a touchdown. Our defense held our opponents, and we had another sixty-two-yard run. Suddenly we realized—after we had had three runs of over sixty yards—that our opponents were tired. They were no contest on the line of scrimmage. They scored once, and we scored three times. They were tired, and we were energized!

            Our defense stopped them on a touchdown drive. We made a big stop on third down. Instead of passing on third and long, they ran the triple option. We stopped them for no gain. Our last score made it 34–33. We decided to go for two points. We did not pass very much, and the boy who caught the two-point conversion never caught another pass all year. The game ended with us winning 34–35.

            The next day people all over the county could not believe the score. Many who had given up on us missed one of the best games in the history of Jemison High School. When I tried out for a football scholarship, many of the boys from all over the state of Alabama had heard of that comeback. I learned never to give up—even when it appears that it is over.

For Jesus had known from the beginning which of them did not believe and who would betray him. He went on to say, “This is why I told you that no one can come to me unless the Father has enabled him.” From this time many of his disciples turned back and no longer followed him. “You do not want to leave too, do you?” Jesus asked the Twelve. Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life. We believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.” (John 6:64–69, NIV)

 

But thanks be to God, which giveth us the victory through our Lord Jesus Christ. (I Corinthians 15:57, KJV)

 

For whatsoever is born of God overcometh the world: and this is the victory that overcometh the world, even our faith. (I John 5:4, KJV)

 

Are there times you want to quit? Why?

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List some of your frustrations, and then give them to the Lord.

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What words would you desire to hear during some of life’s half-time talks?

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Prayer: Father, the Christian life can be so frustrating, especially when we seem to be losing the battle. Help us realize that the victory belongs to You. Help us to run the race of life with our confidence in You. Forgive us when we see people leaving the stands of life, worship, and ministry. Grant us the words we need to encourage others. Help us say, as did the Apostle Paul to the church at Philippi, “Being confident of this very thing, that he which hath begun a good work in you will perform it until the day of Jesus Christ.”

This one of the devotions from my book: I Will Speak Using Stories: A Thirty-one Day Devotional published by Author House. 

Toilet Paper Panic

Toilet tissue is in the news again. Not long ago there was a panic due to the shortage of toilet tissue during COVID. I always find it amusing when people panic about toilet tissue. It amazes me how the human race existed for centuries without toilet tissue.

This morning there was an article about the devastation of forests to make toilet tissue. In Alabama there are several papermills. One where I served as Director of Missions made toilet paper. It employed over a thousand workers.

 Harvesting timber is big business in Alabama. Paper products are one of the many products from wood. Papermills are adjacent to rivers due to the high volume of water used to produce paper. The article this morning stated that it takes thirty-seven gallons of water for one roll of toilet paper.

Could you imagine the amount of toilet paper that the Hebrews would have used wandering in the wilderness for forty years. An estimated 1.5 million folks would have used a lot of paper. The logistics of managing the waste is mind boggling alone. The Israelites we very sanitary even without toilet tissue.

I guess most modern Americans are pampered. Growing up in the poverty of Alabama we had an outside toilet behind the house hidden in some plum trees. It was a two-seater. I never understood two holes in the toilet (outhouse).

One of my special memories is a two-seater outhouse at my Aunt Annie’s house. Mom and I were in the outhouse together. I was six years old. There was no roof and as we shared the moment we watched an airplane flying high over us. I asked, “Momma can they see us?” She said, “No son they are two high.” It was bad enough being in there with momma let alone being watched by fancy folks high in the sky. Using the toilet is “of a private nature” if you know what I mean.

The cement plant had open toilet stalls. It difficult to do “one’s business” with coworkers carrying on a discussion. Most of the time the urge to purge was wiped away. It was one thing to have open showers but the need to be more discrete when sitting on the toilet.

Our toilet paper was a Sears catalog for special guests and old newspapers for most everyone else. Catalogs and newspapers provided occupants with reading materials. Sears and Spiegle became wish books for Christmas gifts. Amidst the panic and shortage, we in the country didn’t worry. As fellow Alabamian Hank Williams Jr. sang, “A country boy can survive.”

There are always options for cleaning materials. When hunting, leaves are the good. Those that are a little damp are better than those that are dry. Knowledge of leaves, especially when green, is a must. Poison oak or ivy can cause problems.

 Granny Hopper’s outhouse had two bins for corn cobs. One contained white cobs and the other red ones. For those that may be unfamiliar with the two colors, red is used first and white used second to ensure cleanliness. Back then there were no warning attached. One had to use discretion when using it, especially if there were rawness or hemorrhoids.

Once we installed an inside toilet we had to use the store-bought toilet tissue. Some country folks thought it unsanitary to have the toilet inside. I have always wanted to build a bricked toilet outside and have a half-moon on the door just to be nostalgist. Oh yeah, I would put a bidet in it.

I do not know what the Hebrews used for the paperwork “doing their business” or cleaning up the blood and carcasses of sacrifices when the wandered in the Wilderness but they practiced cleanliness.

Thou shalt have a place outside the camp, and you shalt go out to it. And thou shalt have a paddle upon thy weapon; when thou wilt ease thyself abroad, thou shalt dig therewith, and shalt turn back and cover that which cometh from thee: Deuteronomy 23:12-13 KJV

Do not fret pampered people. Do not make a run on toilet tissue and create a shortage.