“Where I'm from, we believe in all sorts of things that aren't true... we call it history.” ― Gregory Maguire, Author

Me, out on the sun porch of our old home place. One of the last times I was there back in 2017.

Hello out there in the internet realm where bits and bytes fly around at speeds almost beyond comprehension. Unless you are a networking guru. I am not, but, it is good that we can communicate like we do on this Tuesday, July 15, 2025. I don't know the exact context of the quote in the today's title but I can identify with it in terms of my own personal experience in relationship to the place I grew up. It wasn't Mayberry but in many ways it attempted to be a facsimile. Yeah. I grew up seeing and hearing from those near and dear to my upbringing only to learn later they were not completely right about quite a lot of things. At the same time, I, for whatever reason, never really held them accountable for their misunderstandings of the realities I later came to embrace. I remember a month long management course I took at LSU where one of the instructors was a professor who grew up in rural Mississippi. He talked about how his parents were obsessed with the need for racial segregation and they brought up their family with this uppermost in their minds. When the bus came to pick up those headed to college, it was standing room only. The now professor who was then a recent high school graduate found himself sandwiched between two young black fellows. Suddenly he had to face a reality he would have never expected. His upbringing caused him to believe that close contact with a black person, well, the smell alone could kill you. Sorry. But, this is what he told us. On that day, on that bus, reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Not only did he not suffer immediate death but he also noticed there was no smell. This caused him to have to evaluate, update, and change what he had previously been led to believe. There are a number of areas I learned that differed from the things I had been told growing up. Some, having experienced this separate themselves from and lambast their folks for their wrong thinking. Me? I tried to understand how they thought the way they did and I loved them anyway, I respected them, and, I continue to appreciate all they sacrificed to provide for me growing up. I actually thank God for all my folks even though they were very imperfect in some areas. Aren't we all? Sadly, many of us find information that changes our way of seeing things but we neglect to seek out the truth, the whole truth, and, nothing but the truth as found in God's Holy Word. I highly recommend it. I do. I really do. Think about it. Factual information can update your thinking, but, God's Word can alter your eternal destination. Now that's really something to think about!

 

I actually still keep up to a certain extent with the goings on back in my old stomping grounds. (Here's some insight into the stomping grounds usage as provided by Michael Shapiro in his 'Language Lore' blog:  The contemporary American phrase stomping ground, in the meaning of ‘a place where one habitually spends/spent much of one’s time’ is the product of folk etymology in two respects. First, the form of the verb, viz. stomp, is an American dialectal version of the English stamp, which has replaced the original in most meanings. Second, the original meaning of stamping ground(s) referred to a place where animals (esp. cattle) habitually gathered, as in this example from the OED: “1862 Harper’s Mag. June 34/1, I found myself near one of these ‘stamping grounds’, and a simultaneous roar from five hundred infuriated animals gave notice of my danger.” A dwindling minority of speakers of American English still preserve the original form of the phrase, but its complete replacement by the newer one is inevitable.) I know. You weren't interested in any word origin input today, but, I enjoy using figures of speech and I also enjoy finding out where they came from. You can enjoy whatever it is you like and then share that in your blog. The keeping up for me involves reading the local news in the area I was raised up in, the obituaries, and, of course, the shenanigans going on in the political realm since after all, it is Louisiana. I know some leave, shake the dust off their feet, and work hard never to return again. Not me. I am still fond of that place, fond of the memories there, and, fond of the people who helped to shape me into who I am today. Well, I can see my word count is a wee bit out of control today, therefore, I will stop right here. You get out there and have yourself a wonderful God-blessed day. You hear? Just do it in Jesus Name! Amen.