Fine At Nine RRN's 9th Anniversary
For it was Sarah, who asked in the first year of publication, "What are you going to do when you run out of stories?" She was concerned that once we had recorded all of the known stories about our family that there would be nothing left to put in a newsletter. This writer's answer to her then remains valid today. "Well, Sarah, as long as I travel and meet new people, I figure I'll have plenty of stories, not to mention the abundance of everyday happenings." Yet, in fairness to Sarah, we would note that some weeks it's hard to find something or someone to write about. Writing for this newsletter is a lot like farming; sometimes inspiration and ideas rain from the heavens, and at other times it seems a drought will ruin the crops already planted. Some family members and a few friends have helped occasionally by contributing articles of interest, but such does not occur on a regular basis. Still, persons who enjoy reading RRN should consider sharing their thoughts and ideas through this newsletter. In recent years, it's become customary to report on the appeal of this newsletter by listing the number of known households that enjoy RRN by geographic location. The following is a breakdown of one hundred eighteen households, with parentheses used wherever the number of households for a given area is greater than one: Foreign Countries: Germany Out of State: Tennessee (8), Georgia (5), Louisiana (3), Alabama (2), Arkansas (2), Indiana (2) Wisconsin (2) California, Colorado, Florida, Kansas, Kentucky, Minnesota, Missouri, New Mexico, and New York - A total of thirty-two households across fifteen states, which is six more households than a year ago. In State: Pontotoc (54), Greater Jackson (5), Greenville (2), Ripley (2), Thaxton (2), Tupelo (2), Vicksburg (2), Belmont, Caledonia, Carrollton, Forest, Greenwood, Gulfport, Hattiesburg, Indianola, Leland, Lucedale, Olive Branch, Saltillo, Southaven, Starkville, Utica, and West Point - A total of eighty-five Mississippi households in twenty-three cities, which is also an increase of six households for the past year. We recognize that the prior accounting of our readership is not entirely accurate, for certain individuals share their personal copy with others, and while we know how often our newsletter is opened on the Internet, we do not know with any degree of certainty how many households read this newsletter online. However, we know that at least eight individuals use the Internet to receive RRN. Additionally, RRN is emailed to fifty-two households and is either hand-delivered or sent via U.S. Mail to fifty-eight others. In recent weeks, we have requested, by means of inserts, that our subscribers who have Internet access help with our expenses by receiving this newsletter via email or reading it on our website or else making a donation to help with publishing and mailing costs. Several have honored our email request, and several others have made generous donations. We are grateful for all who have helped and encourage others to consider how they may similarly help this newsletter. In celebrating the Ninth Anniversary of Ridge Rider News and the beginning of the tenth year of publication, the editor, his family, and the staff of Ridge Rider News invite the families of all readers to join us for a backyard fish fry on Saturday, July 23, 2005, at the home of the editor.
Sunday Afternoon Belmont Piano Recital There are probably some folks who go to a piano recital because it's something they truly enjoy. I don't know anyone like that, but odds are they exist. The rest of us go to recitals for a variety of reasons, which may include the following:
Last Sunday, shortly after noon, Barbara and I traveled to First Baptist Church, Belmont to attend a piano recital hosted by two piano teachers, our daughter, Rayanne Adams, and Georgia Lee, church pianist at FBC, Belmont. In order to be in Belmont by recital time, two o'clock Sunday afternoon, we skipped the 11:00 a.m. worship service at FBC, Pontotoc, ate an early lunch, and sped away toward Belmont. Barbara's cell phone rang as we neared Fulton, MS. It was Rayanne, checking on our progress. "Just a minute," Barbara stated, turning her attention to me. "Do you have any double A batteries in the car? Rayanne wants to know." "I doubt it, but if I do they'll be here in the arm rest," I commented with more than a little exasperation. Barbara fruitlessly searched the compartment for batteries. Unable to leave well enough alone, I added, "Does Rayanne want us to stop and pick her up something to eat, too?" My daughter has a Master's in manipulation, but I've devoted a great part of my life to resisting the manipulative efforts of others. My thoughts on Rayanne's battery requirements run long, but basically I reasoned she should have been better prepared if she intended to make pictures at the recital. "Ooo…you two are exactly alike," Barbara analyzed, as she flipped shut her cellular phone. I didn't agree but felt it pointless to take out my frustrations on my wife, who just happened to be caught in the middle of a supremacy struggle between father and daughter. "Are we supposed to stop and buy some batteries for her?" I asked. The "No!" that I received was on the icy side of cool. The rest of the trip to Belmont was relatively quiet. We arrived about thirty minutes early, but that was mostly so we could baby-sit Katherine for Rayanne. Merilese was a last-minute addition to the program. "She's taught herself to play 'Do-Re-Mi' and wants to be in the recital," Rayanne explained. The two piano teachers were busy aligning their students on pews in playing order. It was difficult to tell who had the most nervous energy, the students or the teachers, but I suspected the teachers did. Rayanne handed me a digital camera and asked me to get candid shots of each of her students at the piano. I objected, fearing a flash of light might frighten or distract a student and force a mistake but agreed to make the effort. Thankfully, Rayanne's first student in the recital was not first to play, and I was able to observe what other photographers did and how the students reacted. I saw nothing to indicate a problem and was able to get a photo of each of Rayanne's students. I don't know how many piano recitals I've been to in the past, but counting those when my daughter was a student of Patricia Henry, there would be at least twelve. I don't recall being overly anxious regarding Rayanne's performance, though I'm sure she was quite nervous. I knew she might not play the selections perfectly, but I was confident she'd play well. Sunday afternoon, twenty piano students did their best to rise to his or her teacher's expectations. From my perspective, I feel that most of them did so. Yes, there were a few bobbles here and there, but that's to be expected. At least, each student finished with a smile. I appreciated the efforts of each student and the promise that music holds for each of them, if not for a career opportunity then certainly for ones personal enjoyment. Following the recital, a reception was held in the fellowship hall of the church. It afforded friends, relatives, parents, students, and teachers the opportunity to congratulate one another and to unwind in a casual way synonymous with the South, food and fellowship.
Sunday Evening At West Heights Barbara and I left Belmont shortly before four o'clock in order to be back in Pontotoc to attend the evening services at a sister church, where our oldest granddaughter, Anna Butler, would be singing. Sunday may, for Christians, be the observed Biblical Sabbath or "day of rest," but for Baptists it's anything but restful. Baptists have made Sundays exhausting for the faithful as well as for the church staff, but that's another story. Sunday afternoons, in my household, are usually set aside for nursing home visitation, and since the Sunshine Health Care facility was on our way back to Pontotoc, Barbara and I stopped to visit Aunt Jo. Following more than a yearlong hiatus from RRN, Aunt Jo recently expressed a desire to again receive this newsletter, which I presume to be an indication that her health is improving. Now that Mrs. Bea Merchent is also a resident at Sunshine Health Care, Barbara and I also drop off her copy of this newsletter, and, when appropriate, visit briefly with her. We had to make both visits brief, as the evening service at West Heights Baptist Church would start at 6:00 p.m., and it was after five o'clock at the time. The parking lot at West Heights has several parking spaces near the front entrance reserved for visitor parking; we chose one of them. Entering the cavernous sanctuary, there were plenty of empty pews. We selected one about a dozen rows from the front. James Francis, Minister of Music, was in the pulpit giving last minute instructions to the sound and video technician in the balcony. Anna spotted us and came over to speak to us. "Mr. James said you'd probably say something about him not wearing a tie," she teased. "He's right about that," I replied, even though I wasn’t wearing a tie, either. "How long have y'all had that big screen?" I asked. "I don't know; it's been there a long time," Anna shared. Large display screens don't belong in the sanctuary of a church, but ever since they became popular at spectator sporting events they've become the one piece of technology in a Baptist Church second only in importance to a sound system. I may be in the minority, but I prefer to worship without a big screen and will go to great lengths to avoid staring in wonder and amazement at whatever is shown on one of them. When Red China takes over this country, you can bet those big screens won't show the words to Christian choruses, sermon notes, or ethereal scenes but will instead be used to honor the communist leader of China. At that time, Baptists will curse the day they bought their visual aid systems. "By the way, Anna," I asked, "Are you singing anything I know? "Ten Thousand Angels Cried," she responded. When I shared I didn't know the song, she explained the theme dealt with the crucifixion of Jesus. "Well then, I know that story," I replied. Anna slipped away to sit with friends, shortly before the service started. James Francis also stopped at our pew to greet us and apparently felt an obligation to explain why he didn't have on a tie. "Once we get into summer, I try not to wear one on Sunday night," he stated. "I see you don't have one on tonight." James receives this newsletter and is familiar with my likes and dislikes regarding all things Baptist. "I read some of his stuff and get a big laugh," he told Barbara, "and, then I realize he's serious." It's okay that he feels that way. I realize that God's not through with him, either. Anna's solo was done to "taped accompaniment" which is a popular choice today. I'm somewhat partial to a piano accompaniment, which may not have been an option. Though, more likely the choice of a CD or tape was due to convenience. I did enjoy hearing Anna sing and was proud of her for sharing her singing talent. The voice lessons, which Rayanne and Anson gave her for Christmas, are bearing fruit. After the evening worship service, the congregation filed outdoors to participate in a flagpole dedication ceremony. It's not every church that has a flagpole on the church's grounds, and as neither Barbara nor I had been to a flagpole dedication at a church, we stood in misting rain for the short ceremony. While the National Anthem was sung a cappella, the Stars and Stripes were raised. It was enough to make one proud to be an American on a rainy Sunday evening.
Bodock Beau These People Vote Our founding fathers may have written, "all men are created equal," but by 'all men' they meant just those who owned property. And, they surely didn't mean everyone was entitled to vote. Consider the following submitted by Bob Jackson: These People VOTE? While looking at a house, my brother asked the real estate agent which direction was north, because, he explained, he didn't want the sun waking him up every morning. She asked, "Does the sun rise in the north?" When my brother explained that the sun rises in the east, (and has for some time), she shook her head and said, "Oh, I don't keep up with that stuff.". . . . . She votes! My colleague and I were eating our lunch in our cafeteria when we overheard one of the admin assistants talking about the sunburn she got on her weekend drive to the shore. She drove down in a convertible, but didn't think she'd get sunburned because the car was moving. . . . . . She also votes! My sister has a lifesaving tool in her car. It's designed to cut through a seatbelt if she gets trapped in the car. She keeps it in the trunk. . . . . My sister also votes! My friends and I were on a beer run and noticed that the cases were discounted 10%. Since it was a big party, we bought 2 cases. The cashier multiplied 2 times 10% and gave us a 20% discount. . . He also votes! I was hanging out with a friend when we saw a woman with a nose ring attached to an earring by a chain. My friend said, "Wouldn't the chain rip out every time she turned her head?" I explained that a person's nose and ear remain the same distance apart no matter which way the head is turned.. . . . . My friend also votes! I couldn't find my luggage at the airport baggage area. So I went to the lost luggage office and told the woman there that my bags never showed up. She smiled and told me not to worry because she was a trained professional and I was in good hands. "Now," she asked me, "has your plane arrived yet?".. . . . . . She also votes! I used to work in technical support for a 24x7 call center. One day I got a call from an individual who asked what hours the call center was open. I told him, "The number you dialed is open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week." He responded, "Is that Eastern or Pacific time?" . . . . He also votes!
Copyright © 2000 - 2005 RRN Online.
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Ridge Rider
News is now nine years old. This issue marks the beginning
of RRN's
tenth year of publication. When the first issue of
Ridge Rider
News was mailed to three individuals nine years ago, little
did we dream that the readership would ever reach one hundred households.
While we are pleased to know that a great many people enjoy this newsletter,
it gives this writer greater pleasure to point out to his sister that
RRN
continues to thrive on new material published each week.
