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Kudzu Dad

Observations, musings and miscellany from an unapologetic sentimentalist.

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This is a Season of Grace

on June 18, 2016

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Last Day

on May 24, 2016

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Turns Out He was Talking All the Time

on May 03, 2016

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The Walk Series: Drunk in Love With Purple Rain

on April 21, 2016

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The Walk Series: Of Walks and Tulips

on April 19, 2016

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Lessons Learned: Planting Seeds of Wisdom

on April 01, 2016

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Sandwiched between Gabe the Transformer and True Perspective

on March 24, 2016

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God Whispers

on March 18, 2016

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Happy Grace Day

on March 16, 2016

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I Found a New Candidate for President, and Her Name Ain't Hillary

on March 14, 2016

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Donald Trump, Rory Feek and No Regrets

on March 05, 2016

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Four Good and Perfect Things

on February 18, 2016

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Warming Up with Dresden Plates and Colonial Ladies

on February 09, 2016

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Kudzu Dad: Why Kudzu Dad? Kudzu, because, like the vine, I'm as Southern as can be. Dad, because behind Christ-follower and husband, it's the most important role I have.

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Becky Sue Hits the Big Time

FIRST, A NOTE: I love the craft of writing, and I love it when other writers do well, especially when I have a personal connection to them. That's the case with Rebekah Faulk. Rebekah and I worked together for about four years. She departed for a job closer to her beloved Georgia coast. It, evidently, was just the medicine to inspire her. Since leaving just nine months or so ago, she has started blogging about her favorite subject in all the world–food, and finding some real success. Her blog is entertaining, and her videos, well, you just have to see them. It's even better when you know Rebekah, who I dubbed Becky Sue not long after she joined our team. Since many of you won't get the chance to meet her personally, I thought I'd share with you a glimpse of Rebekah. I wrote it for her a day or so before she left. After reading about Becky Sue, I hope you'll go over to her blog and subscribe to it. I've got a feel...

She Was Radiant

She was radiant. You would have said her hair was red, but it was not. It was copper, a brilliant, deep orange that caught the light and threw it back at you. It could easily be mistaken for a halo. Natalie Henderson Bates was an angel of an intern in our public relations department. She was perfect for the role. She was funny, engaging, professional and memorable. The team we worked with marveled at her perfect hair, perfect makeup and perfect wardrobe, all pulled off on a college student budget and a boat load of talent and instinct. It was a few years after her internship, after college and after she had married the love of her life when we found out she had leukemia. It seemed cruel and wrong, but if Natalie felt that way you wouldn't know it. Natalie braved the treatments and their side effects and turned them into an opportunity to shine and to inspire. She fought back with flair and panache, and ...

He Loved Hot Rods, Banjos and Jesus

Stanley Walker was a legend and a folk hero living in a body far too little for his big personality and his over-sized heart. He loved hot rods, banjos, his grandbabies and Jesus, but not in that order. For the first half of his life, Stanley was the go-to paint and body man in Lindale and surrounding parts. If you wanted your standard issue Ford or Chevy to look on the outside like the lioness she was under the hood, Stanley was your guy. Stanley had a reputation for turning out tough-looking hot rods. He favored Studebakers, Packards, Corvettes, Indian motorcycles and the AMC Rebel Machine. He could hand-paint stripes so perfect you’d swear they came off a roll, and his flames were not the standard Hot Wheels variety. Stanley’s flames danced off the car like they were coming straight out of the motor. His basement garage on Maple Road drew men, young and old, who loved cars like he did and wanted to see his paint come t...

Moonshine and Murder, A Tale of Charley and Jim Fortenberry

I never heard anyone talk about my great-grandfather. After digging into his past, I imagine that’s because his family probably thought it best left it unsaid. Charles B. “Charley” Fortenberry likely was born in January 1860, if that year’s census record is correct. He was five months old when the census taker came to take his count. Charley was the firstborn child of Henry P. and Nancy Fortenberry, who were 20 and 16. The family of three got a little extra income from Peter O’Bryan, a 33-year-old Irishman, who was boarding with Henry and Nancy. It’s doubtful anyone could have imagined that just a year or two after Charley was born, America would be divided, and Henry would be leaving his young family behind to fight with the rebels. Charley was just two years old when his father enlisted with the Cherokee Grays. Charley was born and raised in Alabama, one of the first Fortenberrys to be born an...

Mrs. Childs and the Center of the Universe

When my dad died just a little over 19 years ago, and when my mom passed 7 years later, Eloise Childs was the first person to knock at my door. “I had to come check on my Will,” she said with a card, check and a strong, deep-hearted hug. Mrs. Childs always called me "Will." I loved it. Today, it was my turn to do the checking on her family. Mrs. Childs’ funeral was today, and I’ve teared up more than a few times thinking about her and her legacy. I’m certainly not the only person who has benefited from the selfless heart that beat inside her chest, but she sure made me feel like I was. That was her gift. Mrs. Childs made every person in her life feel like he or she was the center of the universe. I met Mrs. Childs when my family moved to Cave Spring Road. I was getting ready to enter the second grade. We were poor as dirt. We lived at the top of dusty hill...

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