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.

Cherry Jubilee

I do not remember the first time I ate cherries, but I have always loved them. When we lived in Beloit, Illinois, we had a cherry tree in our back yard. I remember mama baking cherry pie for me every day. She worried that cherry pie was my stable meal after school each day. French fries on the side made it a complete meal.

I love cherries on top of whip cream on top of ice cream. I love cherries straight out of the bottle. I love dried cherries and fresh cherries. I love cherries baked in cookies and cherry jell inside tarts. Pear salad is not complete without cherries. Chocolate covered cherries make parties, get-to-gathers, and weddings divine.

I once received a box of Queen Ann chocolate covered cherries as a school Christmas gift. It was from a poor girl whose family could not afford the required gift. Momma wanted to know what I received. When I told her that I got a box of cherries, she was furious. I enjoyed them and to this very day when I see a box of Queen Anne cherries I think of that fourth grade Christmas party.

I love cherry Coke. Not that stuff with fake cherry favoring, but the ones from the soda fountain made with crushed cherries. It is the same for cherry shakes, malts, or floats. That long-stem cherry on top of a banana split is haven’s treat.

There are many kinds of cherries. There are Bing, Black, Maraschino, Montmorency, Morello, and Queen Anne. When we moved back to Alabama, we had a Black Cherry tree in the back yard. The cherries were tiny and bitter unlike those in Illinois. I learned to hate that tree because it was momma’s switch tree used to whip us.

My favorite cherry is not a fruit but a friend I met while pastor of the Gallion Baptist Church in Gallion, Alabama. He was the father of a church member. His name was Robert Milton Cherry. Everyone called him Milton. The son of a preacher, Milton was one of the Godliest men I have ever known. From 2000 to 2025, I considered him an older brother and spiritual mentor. My son Aaron called him Pawpaw. Milton’s grandson was Aaron’s good friend.

Milton was one of the charter members and deacon of the Fairhaven Baptist Church in Demopolis, Alabama. He was a retired maintenance man from the Rock Tenn Paper Mill in Demopolis, former mayor of Linden, Alabama, volunteer with Campers on Mission, and aera coordinator for Alabama Baptist Disaster Relief and the Bethel Baptist Association.

Milton and I spent many hours ministering together on disaster relief deployments. All deployments were what is termed “Ministry of Inconvenience.” Milton and I were deployed to Miller, Missouri February snowstorm disaster. GPS was new to us and found it vital when deployed to disasters. We were to stay at a Baptist Retreat.

 As were neared the facility, the GPS lady directed us from a major highway to a narrow land road between a pastor. Milton and I stared at one another. The narrow road got smaller and in the missile of nowhere the GPS lady said, “You have arrived at your destination.”

It was dark and snowing. On our left was a shed and one our right a pasture enclosed with barbed wire. We studied our dilemma and thought we must be staying with cows for the trip. I told Milton that I thought I saw a sign a few feet behind us. It was dark and the sign was worn but it was the Baptist Retreat sign.

Miraculously, Milton turned our disaster relief trailer around and we went up the pasture road to find a beautiful retreat center. Ms. GPS brought us back way. Situated on a snow-covered hill, we enjoyed our stay and our work in the fourteen-degree snow. We were not in Alabama anymore.

We were deployed again in December to another Missouri snowstorm with our destination unknown. We were to rendezvous with another Alabama disaster relief team from north Alabama. Our final destination was St. Joe, Missouri which had an abundance of snow.

This deployment a church hosted us. I had fun making Milton laugh by making snow angels. Milton and the crew make fun of me. As Chaplain for the team I ate cookies and sipped hot chocolate as the team worked in the snow. One lady gave me cookies, and I asked her to give them to the team. It did not help my cause.

One morning in the church life center Milton put his arm around me and told me how much he appreciated me. I thought it special. I noticed that I received many smiles that morning before breakfast one the men from north Alabama whispered to me, “Your friends have pulled a trick on you. You have a sign on your back that reads, ‘Will work for food.’” I could always count on Milton to make my day.

I retired and moved back to Jemison, Alabama. I missed Milton coming by the office. One day I went to Demopolis to spend some time with Milton. His health was quickly fading. We shared a few special moments.

At his funeral I shared with his pastor about the “Will work for food” sign. He shared it in Milton’s eulogy. It is good to share special moments with friends and smile when remembering.

A friend loveth at all times, and a brother is born for adversity Proverbs 17:17 KJV

Thanks, Milton, for helping me in the hard moments of my being and loving my articles. This one is for you.

 

 

My Way

Back in 2015 while traveling to a funeral of a friend’s mother in Mississippi, I used the navigation system on the automobile.  I looked up the address of the church and found directions to the church.  I knew the general location of the church but wanted to use the GPS to track time. 

What I realized was that the address was so rural that neither of my iPhone nor the navigational system could locate the address.  Knowing what directions I got from Google, I ventured into uncharted territory, but one of my passengers had to be sure and wanted to know the way.  She called John, our friend and son of the deceased to get specific directions.  His address was different from the ones I got from Google.

After the funeral, I entered my Linden address into the navigational system and I realized that we were in the middle of the nowhere, which was the parking lot of New Sardis Baptist Church between Mize and Mount Olive, Mississippi.

So many times, I have argued with the lady in the GPS and took my way.  Had I done that Saturday, I would have missed my destination.  I am afraid that many churches and members miss the destination that God has because we want to do things our way.

If there is one thing wrong, and there are many, with the church today it is trying to have church our way.  Since the beginning, doing things “my way” instead of God’s way has caused much pain and regret.  Think about the song “My Way” sung by Frank Sinatra.

 

And now the end is near
And so I face the final curtain
My friend I'll say it clear
I'll state my case of which I'm certain
I've lived a life that's full
I traveled each and every highway
And more much more than this
I did it my way.

Regrets, I've had a few
But then again too few to mention
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exception
I planned each chartered course
Each careful step alone the by way
And more much more than this
I did it my way.

Yes there were times I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew
But through it all when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out
I face it all and I stood tall
And did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried
I've had my fill my share of loosing
And the now as tears subside
I find it all so amusing
To think I did all that and my I say
Not in a shy way
Oh no, oh no not me
I did it my way.

For what is a man what has he got
If not himself then he has not
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way.

 

Although Frank Sinatra made it popular and Elvis, along with numerous others, did his version, Paul Anka is the one who wrote “My Way.”  Anka got the song from Claude Francois and Jacques Revaux.  It is based on the French song “Comme d’habitube” composed in 1967.

The lyrics tell of an old man reflecting on his life as death approaches.  This old man is comfortable with his mortality and takes responsibility for how he lived with all the challenges of life while maintaining a respectable degree of integrity.

Anka rewrote the song specifically for Sinatra.

“My Way” is most frequently played at British funerals.  Mikhail Gorbachev of the Soviet Union joking referred to the Soviet policy of non-intervention in the internal affairs of other Warsaw Pact countries as the Sinatra Doctrine.

The song has been reported to cause numerous incidents of violence and homicides among drunkards in bars in the Philippines and named “My Way Killings.”

 

The song is a testimony to those who want to exclude God.  A deacon once told me in reference to a church problem, “I don’t care what the Church Constitution and By-laws say or what the Bible has to say.  This is the way we are going to handle the problem.”  Dangerous words, bad direction.

 

For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord (Isaiah 55:8 KJV). 

God's Pointing Star

In December 2007, I went to Miller, Missouri to clear trees and branches down from a recent ice storm.  It was the week of Valentine filled snow and cold.  The high for the week was our first day.  It reached 26 degrees with a 30-mile wind.  The morning we returned home, it was six, yes, that is six degrees.  It was so cold that the oil would not pump in our chainsaws and ice chips froze the sprocket.

The trip was very successful and interesting.  A new GPS guided our disaster relief team to Miller. We logged in the address of the Baptist Camp we were to say and we headed out.  When we left Demopolis the GPS said, “Turn right.”  The GPS was programmed with a lady’s voice and the GPS people named her Amanda.  We thought it appropriate that a lady should give us directions.  At least she was mounted on the windshield and not in the back seat.

As we approached Interstate 59/20 in Cuba, Amanda said, “Turn left and proceed on the motorway.”  We could watch our position on the GPS.  It named each road and driveway while in route.  We tried to confuse Amanda, but if we made a turn she would correct our direction.  When we would exit for a service station, she would make adjustments.  We watched her for more 14 hours and more than 700 miles.  She was flawless.

When we exited the Interstate in Mt. Vernon, Missouri, we were doing fine until Amanda told us to exit to the right.  The road was a one-laner.  We lost sight of lights from the city.  Broken limbs and downed trees lined each side of the road.  A couple had followed us all the way.  We had two-way radios to stay in contact.  I radioed Vick, the woman driving, and told her I thought Amanda might be wrong on this one.  She said her husband and her thought we were lost, but had not said anything.

Right dab in the middle of no where Amanda said, “Turn right.”  There was no right turn.  We slowed to a stop and I commented on being lost.  I had noticed a driveway at the moment Amanda said turn right.  I told the driver and another fellow that I thought there was a small sign in the yard back at the driveway.

The driver, under the direction of the other fellow and me, turned the Disaster Relief trailer around on that one-laner and headed back toward the driveway.  Did I say that it was dark?  Amanda said, “Turn left.”  As we turned left, on the left was a small sign that read Baptist Camp.  There was no light anywhere.  As we meandered our way up this hill suddenly there was light.  There she was a beautiful camp atop a hill over looking this beautiful valley.  We did not realize how beautiful it was until the next morning.

For the whole week, Amanda would guide us back to the camp.  Regardless of our assignment, Amada allowed us to see the beauty of God’s creation on a different route each day.  Amanda made a believer of our team.  The best part, we did not have to stop and ask directions.

Two thousand years ago some wise men used the GPS system to find the light of the world, Jesus.  It was God’s Pointing Star.

Now when Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judaea in the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from the east to Jerusalem, Saying, Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have seen his star in the east, and are come to worship him.  . . . they departed; and, lo, the star, which they saw in the east, went before them, till it came and stood over where the young child was (Matthew 2:1-2, 9b KJV).

Merry Christmas