An Unexpected Visitor

My wife, Kathy, and I had planned to spend New Year’s Day and the weekend leading up to the beginning of the new year with friends in Myrtle Beach. Our plans were to fly out of Nashville on Friday morning. But on Thursday evening I had an unexpected visitor. At first, I referred to my uninvited guest as “Mr. Virus,” but later I settled on the name, “Ms. Virus.” This turned out to be the “Mother” of all viruses I have encountered in my many years.

I should have seen it (her) coming. On Thursday morning I awoke with a slight headache, and then, experienced minor body aches throughout the day. By Thursday afternoon I knew something wasn’t “right.” The first hint of things to come presented itself as rumbling in my gut in the early evening. At precisely 10:00 PM, CDT my guest announced its arrival.

If I had fully realized what was coming, I would have acquired one of those backless hospital gowns and donned a pair of running shoes.

I kid you not. From 10:00PM until 5:00AM I was up and down (mostly down) every 10 to 15 minutes. It became a 7-hour marathon. When morning came, I was tempted to call my doctor and schedule my next colonoscopy - might as well kill two birds with one stone.

Needless-to-say, I took a break somewhere in the night and cancelled our flight to Myrtle Beach. I was in no “shape” to travel.

By mid-day Friday, I wrestled with the question of when and what should I try to eat. The rumbling in my gastrointestinal tract reminded me of summer storms I encountered in the Brim Hollow as a boy – times when the thunder would roll from one end of the hollow to the other, and then echo on and on among the hills.

Oh, and just in case you might wonder. Did I try Imodium? This virus laughed at Imodium.

I have always enjoyed good chicken soup, so I began with chicken broth – a lot of chicken broth, skipping the noodles. By day three I was sick of chicken soup. I may never eat chicken soup again. And my Lazy Boy recliner? I got sick of sitting in it, too. For three days I didn’t leave the house.

Stuck in my recliner, I watched endless, pointless college football bowl games. I mean, really, when will the madness end? How about these names for bowl games? – The Duke Mayonnaise Bowl, the Real Idaho Potato Bowl, and get this, The Pop Tart Bowl. While I was confined to the house and my recliner, I had time to think of possible names for future bowl games. How about the Tidy Bowl Bowl? or the Pepto Bismol Bowl, or the Charmin’ Bowl? Sorry! You can tell where my mind has been.

I must confess. By the time my favorite college football team, The University of Tennessee Volunteers, played on New Year’s Day, I was tired of football. But I made the best of the situation. Go Vols!

I have some dear friends who are facing much more serious health issues than my bout with a hot virus. So, I am not complaining. I am finding, as I grow older, that I don’t recover from health setbacks as quickly as I once did. I do, however, find I make a faster comeback when I can laugh about my situation.

As my old friend Zig Ziglar use to say, “He who laughs, lasts!”

Copyright 2024 by Jack McCall

Welcome to 2024

Well, here we are in the Year of our Lord, 2024.

As I write this blog, the old year (2023) is not quite done, but I have already determined I will not stay up to see the ball drop at the stroke of midnight in New York City’s Time Square. I will be much more interested in a good night’s sleep.

Besides, I determined a long time ago there is nothing magical about the coming of midnight at year’s end (or year’s beginning.)

As the sages once said, “Time marches on, waits for no one, and will tell.”

Much is ushered in with the coming of a new year – hope mingled with apprehension. What will the new year bring? Will life on our planet be better in 2024? Will moral decline continue? Will war continue to escalate in Israel and Ukraine? Will our federal government finally get its act together? Who, in heaven’s name, will be our next president? Will climate change continue to work against us? Will artificial intelligence gain more control over our lives? Big questions.

And to the big questions there are no easy answers – if any answers at all. As John Powell wrote, “New rhythms, no rhyme.”

And, yet, with all that is wrong with the world, hope springs eternal. It is easy to get caught up in all over which we, as individuals have little, or no control. Speaking of control, I learned very quickly when we were attempting to raise our three boys, that “control” is an illusion.

I often recall a quote I saw on a bulletin board in a livestock market many years ago – “Stormy weather is sent our way from time to time to let us know we aren’t in control of anything!”

The words of the Serenity Pray come to mind:

“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change. The courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

So, as we go into 2024, what are some of the things we can change (or things over which we have some control?)

I think I’ll start with me. I promise you, I’ve tried changing other people. I haven’t had much luck.

Business motivational speaker Jim Rohm once said, “I put together a staff a few years ago, and said to myself, ‘I’m going to make these people great if it kills me.’ I almost died!”

I’m going to work on my attitude in 2024. I am especially going to work on how I start each day. David Hartman, who once hosted the morning show, Good Morning, America, would close the show with the challenge, “Go out and make it a great day!” I have found more great days are made than found.

Many years ago, I was speaking for an electrical cooperative in LA (lower Alabama.) I told of how my grandmother purchased flour in 10 lb. sacks made of cloth, and of how she patterned shirts for me out of “sack cloth.” I further told of how, sometimes, the flour sacks would come with colorful hand towels sewn in the top of the sack as a promotion.

When the speech was over, two petite, black women (one young, one old) approached me and had nice things to say. “We remember those hand towels sewn in the flours sacks,” the younger one said. “We looked forward to getting’ ‘em!”

The older woman, referring back to the comments I had made on attitude that day, offered, “Our preacher says, ‘Before you meet the day, you should meet with the Master.’”

I was reminded of the words of an old spiritual. “It’s not my mother nor my father, nor my brother nor my sister. It’s me, O’ Lord, standin’ in the need of prayer.”

Blessings on you in 2024.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

Christmas 2023 New Year's Day 2024

By the time you read this column Christmas Day 2023 will have passed and the New Year will be upon us. I’ve seen many Christmases come and go in my time. And I must confess I’ve enjoyed them all. But it seems, with the passing of each year, I have to expend more energy and effort to ensure my Christmas experience is one of “good tidings and great joy.”

The good tidings are a given, but sustaining great joy throughout the Holidays takes some work. It seems there are mounting forces bent on “taking the wind out of your sails.”

In his marvelous book titled A Reason to Live, A Reason to Die, John Powel wrote in 1974, “The pulse and rhythm of human life has quickened so suddenly that all those who want to keep up must run.” And run we did! And we are still running…only faster - schedules to keep, deadlines to meet.

Charles E. Hummel wrote of “The Tyranny of the Urgent” when quoting a cotton mill manager who told him, “Your greatest danger is letting the urgent things crowd out the important.” We seem to be driven by what seems urgent at the expense of focusing on that which is truly meaningful. It is a constant battle.

The phrase “speed kills” has multiple applications. As I observe the lives of our children and grandchildren, I perceive the concept of “quiet time” is only a “pipe dream” for them – not a moment for reflection.

And then there are “things.” You’ve heard it said, “The best things in life are not things.”  John Fort Newton wrote, “In this materialistic world, if we are not careful, we will be domesticated right out of eternity.”

Someone else once said, “Trying to satisfy the longings of the human soul with things, is like trying to comfort a motherless child with a beautiful doll. Temporarily, the child might be distracted, but in the night, you can hear her crying for her mother.”

We make a great effort to accumulate things. We surround ourselves with things. “Keeping up with the Joneses” is a powerful, driving force. I’ve often wondered who the Joneses are trying to keep up with.

And then, there is our world. Christmas 2023 happened under the dark clouds of fighting in Israel and Gaza. And the war goes on in Ukraine. And some lives were forever changed by tornadoes and other tragedies here at home. With all the good going on in our world, there is still a lot of bad. It is incredibly easy to take your eyes off the Prize.

And then, too, there are people. I learned, after many years on the professional speaking circuit, that there are in this world, some people who were never meant to laugh. Maybe God made them that way. Or maybe, they decided to be that way. I’m not sure. But they are that way. And many of them don’t particularly enjoy Christmas. And that’s ok, if it stopped with them. But it seems they are determined to spoil Christmas for everybody who surrounds them. I’m not sure they are aware of how they siphon energy from others, but they do.

So here we are. I hope you made the necessary effort to enjoy, as the Beatles sang “a wonderful Christmas time.”

2024 looms ahead. It has all the potential of being your best year, yet. May you make it so.

Remember. The best is yet to come!

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

Savoring the Season

In my last column I wrote of savoring the moment. In psychology, savoring the moment refers to focusing your attention on the positive aspects of an experience. Every Christmas my thoughts take me back to happy times of long ago.

My brothers, my sister, and I were the offspring of exceptional parents. I will forever be grateful for our father’s goodness, and for our mother’s wisdom and mental and physical toughness. Both experienced disappointments in their childhood years. They saw to it that their disappointments would not be visited upon their children.

Most of my contemporaries (especially baby boomers who grew up on a farm) agree that we grew up in a golden age. In some ways it was an age of innocence. Our parents wanted their children to “have it better than they did.” And most of us did.

Although farm life in no way approached opulence, it was a good life. Christmases at Frank and Mary Helen McCall’s were simple. I never knew of my parent’s exchanging presents. When it came to gift giving their entire focus was on us.

That’s not to say Santa Claus failed to drop off a couple of my father’s favorites. Every year a sack of English walnuts could be found among the treats Old St. Nick left behind - and box of chocolate covered cherries – just for our dad.

My father would spend the winter eating those English walnuts. He would hold one in the palm of his hand, and using his big, pocket-knife as a hammer, he would crack open the shell. The sound was unmistakable. I recall that sound each Christmas.

In my father’s latter years when we found “he was hard to buy for” seems each of his children gave him a box of chocolate covered cherries. One year he got 5 boxes. He never complained.

I bought a box of chocolate covered cherries last week. I decided to eat one chocolate covered cherry every day until Christmas. And each time I do, I’ll think of him. And I will recall his bashful smile, and his big, working man’s hands, and his love for his family and his Lord.

Christmases don’t come anymore without my recalling the smell of cedar. Every Christmas my brothers and I searched the hills and fence rows for the perfect tree. There’s a line in a well-known Christmas song which refers to “a tree in the Grande Hotel, one in the park as well. The sturdy kind that doesn’t mind the snow.” We never found that kind of cedar tree. I often wondered how those cedar trees held up the bubble lights. And I suppose we never found one which was perfectly symmetrical. We just turned the bad side to the corner of the room. Then, we covered the blemishes with “icicles.” I haven’t seen a box of those silvery slivers of aluminum in years.

There weren’t many rules at our house on Christmas mornings of long ago. I recall drinking a 16 oz. Pepsi and enjoying a Mar’s candy bar before breakfast on many a Christmas morning. Of course, the Pepsi was over ice, and I can’t recall if the candy bar was a Milky Way, a Snickers, or a Three Musketeers.

I have already decided on Christmas morning 2023 I will have a 16 oz. Pepsi over ice and eat all three of the afore mentioned candy bars... before breakfast – just to be 10 again.

When I was a boy, I always had “a part” in the church Christmas play. There were shepherds and wise men, and of course, Mary and Joseph and the babe wrapped in swaddling cloth. At the end of the play, we all sang “Silent Night” (without music) and quietly slipped out into the night. Though, just a boy, I sensed something sacred and holy in those moments.

Some things you never forget.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

Savoring the Moment

Have you ever had an experience, when it had passed, you wished you had been more “in the moment?”

The definition for “savor” reads like this: To enjoy food or an experience slowly, in order to enjoy it as much as possible. It seems we, in our fast-paced world, do nothing “slowly.” We order “fast food” fast, pay for it fast, and eat it fast.

I have vowed this holiday season to eat less food but enjoy what I do eat more. That means more careful selection, slower eating, and more thorough chewing. (The health experts say that is better for me.) And I have decided to spoil myself a bit. I’m going to concentrate more on the foods I really love, like dressing and gravy. (Not the Stove Top variety.) I think I will have a center-slice of country ham with red-eyed gravy. (That’s the second time I’ve mentioned gravy.) I may even have a foot-long chili dog. What ever I decide, I will enjoy it slowly and savor each bite.

And I will savor some memories. (Relive them slowly.) Many invariably take me back to the Brim Hollow. My maternal grandfather, Will Herod Brim, for all the years I knew him; ate two hard-boiled eggs at every meal. His routine never varied. After chopping his eggs up finely with a fork, he added a pat of yellow butter, and a little mayonnaise. Then, he salted and peppered to taste and mixed his simple concoction. Light bread toast (extra dry) or saltine crackers finished his feast. I will have my eggs that way a few times over the Holidays. And I will find myself seated at little kitchen table covered with red-checked oil cloth; and feel the heat from wood-burning cook stove; and recall the sparkle in my grandfather’s eyes.

I heard of an old man who was resting in a rocking chair on the front porch of a country store long ago. A drummer (That’s what they used to call salesmen.) stopped by and asked the old man what he was doing.

“I am participating in a lost art,” said the old man.

“And what might that be?” pressed the questioner.

“I’m just a’sittin’,” replied the old man. We might all prosper by practicing that lost art.

The Holidays give way to all types of gatherings - corporate parties, office parties, church dinners, Sunday school class Christmas get-to-gathers, family gatherings, to name a few. When I attend them, I always listen for the “buzz.” It’s the sound of people who really love each other and enjoy one another’s company. To be a part of such “community” is to be savored.

And there are times we get to spend, one-on-one, with life-long friends. It is vitally important when we are with those friends that we are really “with” them - that we express our deepest feelings. Moments with friends are to be savored as well.

Speaking of savoring moments, one of our soon-to-be teenager granddaughters was in a hurry to catch her ride as she was leaving our house one day last week. (They always seem to be in a hurry.) As she was dashing out of the door, she stopped suddenly and came back into the room. Then, without a word, she leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. And just as suddenly, she was gone. But she left me with a moment to savor throughout the Holidays.

So, whatever you enjoy this Holiday season, whether it be food, or being with friends and family, or having your heart warmed by some unique experience, take time to savor.

May your days be MERRY and BRIGHT!

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

Expect the Unexpected

Life is full of surprises. I don’t know why we should be surprised.

I was in the delivery room when our first son was born. He came into the world red and wrinkly and icky and not very happy with the situation. Caught up in the wonder of human birth, I was not prepared when the attending nurse suddenly turned to me and said, “We’re going to let the father take him down to the nurse’s station and weigh him.” Then, she handed him to me. What a package! I held him closely as I walked to the nurse’s station. 8 lbs. 15 ¼ ounces. That was the first of many surprises he would afford me in the coming years.

My son, Joseph, and I have a modest cattle herd. Being old school, I prefer to check on them every day, but that is not always possible. The demands of my job make it almost impossible. Most of our calves come in the spring, usually in March and April. Occasionally, a few cows will “catch up” and calve in January or February. Last fall was especially busy, and I hardly checked on the cows at all. I must say I was surprised when I looked in on the cows in November to find 5 new baby calves! I concluded the herd bull must have been on the job. I have learned to expect the unexpected.

My brother, John, is becoming a master gardener. Access to the internet has opened up a whole new world of gardening ideas for him and daughter, Olivia. This year he planted late butter beans, squash, and tomatoes. He was anxious that the butter beans would “make” before frost, but they did thanks to some creative harvesting. He gave me a call a few days before the first frost to inform me green tomatoes were still available, but in jeopardy. I took him up on the offer.

I was surprised to find myself canning green tomato pickle on November 25, two days after Thanksgiving Day, 2023. Who would have thought it? Another surprise.

I received a call from the wife of a dear friend at 10:00 PM last Wednesday evening. He had been admitted to the hospital and was facing emergency surgery the next day. If I had been making a list of the healthiest people I knew within 10 years of my age, he would have been high on my list. If I had been making a list of my friends whose health might have been in jeopardy, he would have been close to last. It is the kind of surprise which brings you to your knees. We never know.

I have another friend who is in law enforcement. He’s been a police officer/detective, career type. One day he was waiting in the drive-up line at a fast-food establishment. A woman in front of him was taking an excruciatingly long time to place her order. He grew impatient. She continued to order. He became exasperated. Her ordering dragged on. Finally, she finished. He pulled forward to place his. At the “pay” window she, again, took extra time. He was at his wits end. She finally moved on. He stopped to pay.

“The lady in front of you paid for your lunch, sir!” said the young lady taking payment, cheerfully. “She said, ‘Have a nice day, and thanks for your service.’” Surprise, surprise!

I suggest to my friends to tuck away a 5 or a 10 or a 20 or even a 100-dollar bill in your wallet or purse, and look for opportunities to give it away this Holiday season. If you are going to be in on a surprise, let it be a pleasant one!

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall  

Giving Thanks 2023

Well, it’s that time of year again. Time to pause and offer thanks. I think it’s important, from time to time, to enumerate the things for which one is thankful, especially at Thanksgiving. In the past I have suggested to my friends and readers to make a list of 25 or more. This year I have made my list several times. Each time I make a list it seems to grow.

As a speaker and writer, I see myself as a “reminder.” The Good Book says, “There is nothing new under the sun.” I have nothing new to offer, but I can remind people of things they already know.

So, here’s a list of things for which I am thankful. I hope it inspires you to make a list of your own.

I always begin my list with “Peace with God.” The old folks used to speak of “making peace.” My late mother used to say, “If, in this life, you miss that, you’ve missed it all.”

Family. I recently read a quote from Mother Teresa, “If you want to change the world, go home and love your family.” A young Hispanic father recently said to me, “Oh, sir, family is everything!” If you are part of a loving family, be thankful.

Freedom. I once heard it said, “If you have anything of value for which you did not sacrifice, someone else did.” As citizens of the United States of America, our freedom came at a great price. Be thankful for our freedom.

Health. You’ve heard it said, “If you have your health, you have everything.” Be thankful if you enjoy good health.

Over the past few weeks, I have experienced two cataract/lens surgeries. The improvement to my eyesight has been remarkable. My late mother was legally blind for the last ten years of her life. She would often say, “Of all the things I miss, I miss my sight most. I wish I could read my Bible.” If you can see well, be thankful.

People. I usually write down the names of teachers, friends, and mentors who have impacted my life most. Imagine where you might be without their influence. Offer thanks for them.

After making a list several times, your “Top 5”, or “Top 10” will naturally fall into place. That’s when you can let your imagination “run” or “freefall.”

Here goes.

I am thankful for country living, country sausage, country ham, country roads, country music, and for growing up in the “country.”

I am thankful for church family, Sunday school classes, the Holy Bible, and the Sunday school teacher I had long ago. (Her name was Johnnie Mae Denton.) 

I am thankful for running water, a climate-controlled home, a warm bed, electricity, and a good roof over my head.

I am grateful for life lessons I learned in the Brim Hollow and memories I will take with me until my time is up.

I am thankful for flannel shirts, comfortable boots, and warm coats.

I am thankful for Thanksgiving dinner along with turkey and all the trimmings.

I am thankful for Christmas music and Karen Carpenter.

I am thankful for cedar kindling, ricks of firewood, fireplaces, and smoking chimneys.

I am grateful for dependable vehicles, chainsaws with sharp blades, a good wood splitter, and a handy axe.

I am thankful for cows and calves, and enough hay for the winter.

When I was a boy, a certain preacher would visit our church at revival time. He was an old man. When called upon to pray (And I heard him pray many times.) he would always say at the ending of his prayer, “And thank you, Lord, that I woke up this morning and put my feet on the floor in a sound mind.” If you have all your marbles, be thankful.

And borrowing words from John Newton; if you have already come “through many dangers, toils, and snares,” give thanks.

May you be blessed with a grateful heart this Holiday Season.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall

All God's Creatures

I suppose I’ve always been a livestock man. I grew up with hogs, cattle, chickens, sheep, horses, mules, cats and dogs. Cattle and hogs were a feature on the farm where I spent my formative years. My grandfather had a small flock of sheep in the Brim hollow. Lest I forget, he also had a herd of goats. These were the old-fashioned goats – white goats that ate briars, bushes, small trees and ridded the hollow of rattlesnakes.

My father was a tobacco man and cared little for tending livestock. He found it a matter of necessity to keep critters around. It was good that cows had a way of taking care of themselves. He enjoyed growing and harvesting hay, but he found herd management more of a nuisance than a pleasure. He pretty much expected the hogs to take care of themselves as well. If my brother John had not come along and taken over the swine part of our farming operation, the results would have been meager. But, at age 13, John came to my father’s rescue.

In the 1960’s there were 4 John McCall’s residing on Route 2, Carthage, TN – John Alexander McCall, John A. McCall, Jr., John E. McCall, and John D. McCall. It became very confusing especially when my brother, John’s breeding hog business began to take off. Potential hog buyers from all over the southeast would contact telephone operators seeking John McCall’s number. To solve the problem, my brother changed his listing in the phone book to John “Pig” McCall. I can hear the telephone operator to this day saying, “I have a John “Pig” McCall.” To which the potential buyer would reply, “That’s him!” After all these years, my brother John is known as “Pigman.”

When each of my father’s sons reached the age of 13, he purchased for us a      “3-in-1” package. (A 3-in-1 is a cow with a calf with another one on the way.) That’s how we got in the cattle business. I well remember the first calf I sold from my 3 -in-1. He weighed 600 lbs. and brought $25.75 per hundred or $154.50. I thought I was rich!

In the years which followed I was allowed to grow a small herd as a part of my father’s larger herd. At one time I owned 10 cows. They put me through college.

When I was 16 Mr. Bobby Woodard hired me to clerk the livestock sale at Farmer’s Commission Co. in South Carthage, TN. That was my introduction to livestock marketing. After I left that job to attend the University of Tennessee, I became a part of the meats judging and the livestock judging teams at UT. That opened up a whole new world to this country boy. In my years at UT I took judging trips to Madison, WS, Chicago, Baltimore, Starkville, MS, Kansas City, Houston and a few places I have forgotten.

That experience prepared me to judge hog and cattle shows throughout the southeast.

Throughout the many years I have pulled calves, docked lambs, worked cattle, scaped hog pens, filled feeders, set up all night with sows giving birth, driven thousands of miles to hog shows, fed mules, dehorned calves, castrated pigs, and done hundreds of things tied to livestock management. I must say I have enjoyed it all.

I guess that’s why I hold on to small herd of cows. I could give them up and it would make my life a little easier. But something would be missing. Something, I suppose, which keeps me tied to the land…and its livestock.

Some things are worth holding on to.

Copyright 2023 by Jack McCall