Howdy, y'all! Y'all ain't laborin' on
Labor Day are you? I hope not! Get that cup of coffee ready! This is
a seven-page article!
Thanks for stopping by, to read a
while! In August 2021, I had 8,377 total views on my website.
I mentioned it, in my
9/1/2021 article. I'll keep writing. I've been a writer, since
grade school. Y'all keep reading. It's this modern way of
communicating, apparently. Of course, you can e-mail me. Click
the E-mail button. I will then share my phone number. (Sharing
e-mail addresses and phone numbers is harder, due to all the dang
spam e-mails and calls – unless we know how to block most of them!)
Yesterday: well, here I
“sot,” as Dad would say, on a cloudy Sunday afternoon (when I had
begun to write). House Mountain (My Mountain) hiking season is near.
I chose not to start my hiking season yesterday. An afternoon hike
would have been warm and muggy. I would have had to change from
sweaty T-shirt into dry T-shirt, after a hike, if I had hit the
I was tempted, however, to hike
yesterday afternoon. My “bionic” body felt its oats well enough –
despite the Weigels mini cheeseburger I ate for dinner (or lunch, as
the Yankees call it) on Saturday. On Saturday, the hunger growl had
started, as I was driving to get gas and haul trash. My '08 Nissan
Frontier was hungry for more 100% gas. I was hungry. We both ate. My
truck ate better than I did!
This article is a “life, such as
it is,” update – divided into four sections. I hope that it
helps your “life, such as it is!” It helped mine, to write it.
September 3, 1959 was a
Thursday. My Mom (Betty Lou Wood Ferrell, 11/24/1932 - 12/27/2000)
and Dad (Earl H. Ferrell, 9/17/1927 - 1/25/2008) married. The
wedding ceremony was at Calvary Baptist Church, in Morristown,
Tennessee. I wasn't around yet. Mom and Dad, as they told me, enjoyed
their honeymoon in Virginia Beach, Virginia. I have photographs that
are in Mom's photo albums. I may publish them, in time.
I was born, just over ten months later,
on 7/17/1960. As a small boy, I remember that Mom, Dad, and I lived
with Mom's parents and relatives, in Morristown, Tennessee.
Eventually, we moved to rural east Hawkins County – Dad's home
county. I have many facts and stories packed away, in the archives of
my mind and on paper. (Search my website, by topic section or “Mom”
or “Dad,” and you can find other articles that I've written, over
Well, on 9/3/2021, while I
“enjoyed” my work-a-day at the “Hadean Realm” office, I
remembered. I wonder if any of my three younger brothers remembered.
September 4, 1901 was a
Wednesday. My Mom's Dad, Aby William Wood,
was born. He was the second son of Gideon Mark Wood and
wife Gertrude Roleva Bair. Papaw Wood left this world on
Papaw Wood turned 58 the day after he
gave away Mom to marry Dad! I had wondered, as a boy, what he thought
back then. Papaw told me, when I had grown into a young adult, that
he was about as happy as a man could be!
I scanned the above image yesterday.
The original is from one of Mom's photograph albums that I have been
keeping safely here at our house. (I placed the original back into
the album where Mom had placed it decades ago.)
Granny and Papaw Wood celebrated
their 48th wedding anniversary, on 8/26/1979. I was age 19. I was
there, so I remember. Mom has many other photographs in her album
that I may scan and publish, in time.
The above image was published in a
(Morristown, Tennessee) newspaper article. I remember that Granny and
Papaw did not wait to their 50th wedding anniversary, as they thought
that one or both of them would not live another two years.
Papaw Wood (born 9/4/1901) went Home,
on 3/14/1983. I remember, sadly. I was attending East Tennessee State
University (ETSU) and living in a small apartment. I drove home every
weekend. I sat with Papaw, in his hospital room, on weekends. Granny
Wood (6/16/1901 - 8/12/1991) lived longer. I was honored to have
performed her funeral and graveside services. Mrs. Appalachian
Irishman and I were living in Charleston, Missouri. We drove back to
Rogersville. Granny had been living at the homeplace, with family,
after Papaw passed. I wonder, in 1979, if Granny and Papaw knew that
Papaw was having health problems. I wonder if they told Mom. As far
as I know, only the Good Lord knew that Papaw Wood would live just
over three more years. I still wonder if Papaw Wood knew what he
didn't share with anyone else – even his wife. In 1979, Papaw Wood
seemed to be doing well, for his age.
Well, on 9/4/2021, Saturday, I
remembered that Papaw Wood was born, on 9/4/1901. I wonder if any of
my three younger brothers remembered.
Fall 1977 to Spring
I was a senior at
Rogersville High School. After school, on Wednesdays, my part-time
job was to insert the second section of The Rogersville Review into
the first section, as the second section came off the old Linotype
press. I have many memories on file in my mind. I remember them well
– despite my “multi-trauma,” of 3/29/2016, that included a
concussion, from which I recovered fully.
I very well
remember Eleanor Sheets (publisher and editor) and Mildred Shortt
(columnist, among other “hats” that she wore), as well as others.
Eleanor Sheets upheld an exact grammar and style in the editions. She
would not have allowed the grammatical errors, over which I try to
gloss, in the modern The Rogersville Review.
March or April 1995
I can't yet find the following The
Rogersville Review article on the “Interweb.” (I'm still
working on it!) The article was included in a March or April 1995
issue of The Rogersville Review – my hometown newspaper. The
article title is “Ferrells Live
Dream of Adventure as Missionaries in the New Russia.”
(I corrected the improper lack of capitalization.) The image, below,
is a photocopy. I have been saving the print edition over 20 years.
I recommend that you enlarge the image,
to read the details. I did. The details are correct, mostly. By the
way, in 1995, I had learned that the Russian word is “mарихуана.“
It is a transliterated word. In late 1994
or early 1995, before we took our six-month furlough, I had no clue
meant, in Russian. It's weed, man!
Our first mission work
(two weeks only) was in Jamaica, in 1987. There, a man offered me
ganja. He called me “John Wayne,” since I was wearing a large
“sky,” or hat, which I still have. I have never smoked or inhaled
the stuff – unless the second hand smoke, at a Kiss concert, in
Johnson City, Tennessee, got me. The man said, “come take a look
in my shop” (a large tent in the straw market). I replied, “you
pay me $5 to look; no guarantee that I buy!” He agreed! I kept
walking – with a bit of a smile!
edition includes Jeff
Bobo's 8/9/2021 sermon of introduction, as the new editor of The
Rogersville Review. He wrote a fine sermon. (I should know, since
I've outlined and/or written many sermons, in English mostly, with
some in Russian.) He seems like a good northerner that became a good
southerner (as Mom did). (Sidetrack, with apology: what is the
difference between northerners and Yankees, who move south? A
northerner blends in, by respecting and admiring the southern
culture. A Yankee tries to change us. Yankees can go home!
Northerners are welcome!)
Jeff, you referenced the late Illinois State Senator GeoKaris (or
Geokaris). The proper spelling is Geo-Karis, according to that Yankee
Chicago Tribune article. (That's my
minor editorial correction, with apology.)
The quarter (25
cent piece) that the late Senator Geo-Karis gave you was a turning
point in your life! I enjoyed getting to know you, by reading your
comments! I have had several turning points in life. I am inspired to
contemplate a future article, titled “Turning Points in My Life.”
I encourage you to write a similarly titled article!
the way, the late Senator Geo-Karis' name, from Greek, is γεω
(“earth,” from which geography, geothermal, etc. come) + Χάρις
(“grace”). It seems that she lived up to her last
name, by having given you that quarter. I hope that she had accepted
the Good Lord's free-gift offer. If so, I will enjoy conversing with
her at Home.
photograph is from a 9/2/2021 article, in The Rogersville Review. One
of my cousins wrote it! The website link, for the article and the
above photograph, is: New
Choptack drive-in brings back memories of the old Jolly Roger,
on The Rogersville Review, by By Becky Ferrell, 9/2/2021.
Click it (if you have a subscription)! Did you, if you're a
subscriber? I hope so, if you are. I'll wait here, until you read the
y'all just hold your britches! See the next (Family) section, below.
I want to do a little “Banty Rooster” crowing, as I'd done, in my
6/8/2021 article, for my cousin!
My cousin and I went
through grade school and Rogersville High School together. We
graduated high school in 1978. Her great grandfather and my great
grandfather were brothers. My cousin has lived in and visited several
countries. (I wish that she would create her website, to include the
details – instead of using “Farcebook.”) I haven't seen my
cousin, since high school graduation. I know her well enough, by
“Interweb” contact. The next time I get up to my hometown, I hope
to see her – if we can arrange it.
My cousin is in print –
as of 9/2/2021! I am crowing like a Banty Rooster for my cousin!
She wrote The Rogersville Review article of 9/2/2021! The
article is listed previously. (I'd correct
The Rogersville Review's failure to capitalize the main words, if I
were the editor.)
That's a good article,
Becky! I enjoyed reading it! I remember when some of us boys hid
on the bank, beside the Jolly Roger. We had walked there, in the dusk
to dark, and back. We saw several movies for free! We could hear the
car speakers, which were close enough to us, well enough. We saw a
few of those almost naked girl shows also. (I'm sorry, Mom! I never
did tell you!) Once, the Jolly Roger almost caught us, but we were
able to run off in time! Those were great times!
Yes, I did pay to see a
few movies there too – or Dad paid for us, when I was a boy. When I
was old enough to drive, I paid my own way into the Jolly Roger. I
think that I had a date with me a time or two. I don't recall much of
the movies, when I had a date with me. We were doing other things.
(Again, I'm sorry, Mom! I did behave as a gentleman – mostly!)
I am crowing like
a Banty Rooster, for my cousin, Becky Ferrell!
Keep up the great work, 'cuz! On that “thar” “Farcebook,”
send me one of them “thar” “IMs,” with you phone number or
e-mail address. I can let you know, much easier, the next time that
Mrs. Appalachian Irishman and I will be in our home town! We can plan
a get together!
By the way, Becky,
please tell Jeff Bobo: if he will pay me
a quarter (25 cents), for my time, I'd be glad to write an article
for The Rogersville Review. Also,
please tell Jeff that he needs to have his folks update the “about”
section on The Rogersville Review's website. It doesn't mention
God inspired King Solomon
to write the Old Testament “book” of Proverbs. I know. I will
meet anyone who disagrees, in an arranged and formal debate. Any
challengers? I didn't think so. If I have a challenger, I'll let
Proverbs 18:24 states,
in part, by NIV translation from Hebrew, “there is a friend
who sticks closer than a brother.” Well, that's true. I have
several friends, who stick closer to me than at least one of my three
brothers. (One brother is trying to live off government Monopoly
soup, apparently. That's not how Mom and Dad raised us four boys!)
I have had a
friend and brother in Christ, since the fall of 1984.
He and I shared a dorm room, in Paul
Gray, when we attended Freed-Hardeman University (or College, as it
was called then). I could unpack the memories,
in my concussion-recovered brain, but I won't – for now. My brother
and friend lives in Arkansas. He is five years younger than me. (I
had transferred to Freed-Hardeman College, as an “old” man of 24
years, in the fall of 1984.)
My friend and
brother “Roy” and I communicate at times. He calls me “Merrill.”
It's been our joke since 1984. “Roy” was a missionary in The
Ukraine for ten years. He visited Mrs. Appalachian Irishman and me,
when we were living in Moscow, Russia. “Roy” and I haven't
communicated with each other in a while. Well,
we spent an hour or two on the phone together over this last weekend.
“Roy” is a friend and brother who
supported me, by his calls and e-mails, in the early days of my
“bionic” recovery (3/29/2016+) – better than other friends did,
on an ongoing basis. Thanks, “Roy!” I had needed your frequent
support and communication back then!
Well, I don't
mean to slight other friends! I
have a number of friends that I know will stick “closer than a
brother.” They have done so many times.
I have a couple of brothers that I know
will stick close as brothers, if I need them to do so. Thanks, Lord,
for the blessing of close brothers – biological or spiritual!
Hey, “Roy,” when are
you coming to this area? You still owe me a hike on My Mountain with
me! I wish that Mrs. Appalachian Irishman and I could drive to meet
you half way. That approximately four or six-hour drive would be too
much. A drive of more than about two hours or so is enough for my
“bionic” body – at this ongoing stage of my recovery.
Well, I'll wind this
article down now. It's about 4:30 PM, on Labor Day (9/6/2021) Monday.
At least I didn't work from home, for the “Hadean Realm,” today!
I think I'll publish this article now. I have a “poly-tics”
article to write – when I get around to it. First, however, I recon
I may call my three younger brothers, to see how they are getting
Y'all keep turnin' right
and goin' straight out there, ya hear! If you do, we'll see each
other at Home, eventually! Until then, I hope that you enjoyed this
article. I enjoyed writing it.
Today was almost my
first hike of the 2021 - 2022 hiking season. I thought about it. I
decided to get this article “under my belt” first. Watch out for
articles on my future hikes. I see them in my mind now. I'll
GERD (git 'er dun) – as the Good Lord wills. I have power and will
in my “bionic” body!