How did you spend your fall break? Well, I took my wife to several doctors most days of that week. I did manage to finish reading at least one book, portions of a few others, shop at KARM, eat out with a friend, mow my and my neighbor’s yard, and put up a storm door at my home library.

I have always thought it my destiny to own a Lincoln. Car, that is. Yet it never quite seemed to work out for me.

It did work out for my sister Anna Mae, my mother’s only daughter. She once bought a beautiful four door Lincoln sedan that had belonged to a judge. I don’t remember the model, but I can see that car in my mind. It had a steel blue exterior, dark blue leather interior, and looked practically brand new. It had an electronic dash and air shocks.

For no apparent reason at all yesterday and today, my mind wandered back to memories of my brother, J. C. Truthfully, I think of him often, most probably daily if truth be told.
Particularly in the days of my early childhood, J. C. (James Clyde) Mincey was in many respects very much like Archie Bunker. (Oh, younger generation, Google and learn!)
J. C. was probably rougher than Archie in the days of his own youth, but I wasn’t around for that.

I have lived my entire life in Union County, save for almost four years when I was an undergraduate student at Lincoln Memorial University.

I once attended a service at Loveland Baptist Church when Rev. Oliver Wolfenbarger was pastor. He rose to preach and announced his text. It was the same text he had used the previous Sunday.

Preacher Wolfenbarger said, “I know what you’re thinking—poor ol’ Wolfenbarger’s losing it. He don’t remember that he preached on these same verses last week. I just want you to know, that I know I preached this last week, but I didn’t get finished. What’s more, I’m just as crazy as you think I am.”

I was saddened to learn just last week of the passing of a colleague from my first eight years teaching at Luttrell Elementary School. I have throughout the years had many colleagues, most of which were just acquaintances, but a few who became treasured friends.

This is the fourth of a series of articles on the history of Wood Dale School in Union County, Tennessee.

Picture it—I’m sitting in my living room in my usual spot on the loveseat. It’s the evening of the day of my latest medical procedure. I was not able to eat solid food for one full day before the procedure, so I am indulging in a delicious supper of fried egg and bacon sandwiches that my wife prepared especially for me.

I can remember a time when all my meals were eaten at the kitchen table with my mother and father. At that time it would have been unthinkable to eat a meal in the living room in front of the television. A snack, maybe, but never a meal.

I signed the many papers required to buy my house on May 1, 1991 and moved that weekend. My colleague Deanie Carver used her pickup truck to help me move several boxes of books (of course, these important items were first to be moved). The late Adrian Shoffner and Rev. Joe McCoy helped me move the household furnishings. Preacher Joe has never forgotten the ordeal moving that upright freezer into the basement turned out to be. I felt so guilty that I didn’t go to church that Sunday, but I couldn’t find my dress shoes in time to get ready!

This very day I received the following statement in my email:

Every Southerner knows that tomatoes with eggs, bacon, grits, and coffee are perfectly wonderful; that red eye gravy is also a breakfast food; that scrambled eggs just ain’t right without Tabasco, and that fried green tomatoes are not a breakfast food.

There has been since the beginning of American history a distinct difference between the northern and southern parts of our country. Many of these differences are God ordained, such as the geographical features. Allow me to provide a very simplistic view.