"Where we love is home - home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts." ~ Oliver Wendell Holmes Sr.

Hello and welcome. I am calling today's edition the early bird special because here in the ole blogger ranch home office it's not 6 a.m. yet. It is Tuesday, November 18, 2025, and, hopefully, I will put together something of value since the search engine in my noggin seems to be on strike today. You don't get it? Well, sadly, if you hang around long enough, you will. Trust me. I read a posting on Facebook where the fellow over in Louisiana was giving the details of him driving around his old home place identifying the various landmarks that were there when he was growing up. That's where the old playground used to be, and over there is where a patch of woods were located and we could go there when we wanted to get away. At the end of it he allowed how he felt blessed he could still remember all of those streets, stores, along with his recollection of the stories and why they were special to him. I've done that exact same thing before. Yes. You can go home again, but, everyone should be aware how it will have changed. The people who are there now have changed also. Think about it. We were born way back in the 1900's and I'm learning everyday that's not as common as it once was. Duh? That's not only how it works, it's how it should be. I've tried to make small talk with some of the folks who work in the stores back in my hometown and when I do they mostly grunt and occasionally they might nod their heads. I get the distinct feeling they would rather not hear anything about my back in the day experiences because they do have better things to do. I can always go visit my kinfolk out at Beckom Cemetery. I can pause at each marker and as our pastor likes to say, "And let'er rip, tater chip." And, they, always listen. Quietly, I might add. Stopping by Beckom, now that's an overload of memories right there. Some so sweet, some heartbreaking, and, some, downright challenging in trying to make sense of it all. But, one thing is certain. The names on those markers represent the people God put in my life. They were impactful. And, while tears may come, I always leave reminded of how blessed I was to grow up where I did. Yep. At the end of the day I can easily identify with Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz, "Oh, Auntie Em, there's no place like home!" 

 

During the photo shoot last Saturday, we had a moment of truth that occurred, perhaps, rather unexpected. Here's the publicity write up of how to recognize Mrs. Claus, "She is the legendary, kindly wife of Santa Claus, typically depicted as a warm, grandmotherly figure with white hair, glasses, and often a red dress, who manages the North Pole's operations, bakes cookies for the elves, cares for the reindeer, and helps with toy development, acting as the supportive but often unsung backbone of Christmas, embodying domesticity, organization, and love." While all of that rings true I might just point out there are, from time to time, exceptions. Our wonderful photographer shared with us this particular shot captured as Santa was telling a joke. Santa said he had sent Mrs. Claus the cartoon that showed the older lady blowing out the candles along with her elderly mate, with this caption, "I made my wish, but, you are still here." It was a joke. The image above tells its own story. I report. You decide. Y'all get out there and have a God blessed day. Go on. You hear? And, always remember, God is watching out for each of us. He is. He really is, and, I thank Him for His provision. Amen.