. . . a Gracious Good Morning To You, is this the party to whom I am speaking?
Moving is a trip – literally and figuratively. And all the things that go along with it. Packing to move, lining up moving company, still packing, changing utilities, still packing, actually moving, still packing, painter finishing up condo (I actually closed bedroom door and went to bed with him still working), still packing, and on it goes. Notice the ‘still packing’ repetition – makes me think I should be saying “still pitching stuff,” but anyway. Lots of stuff to deal with, but a necessary means to a wonderful end and a beautiful new home.
Then the text message notification sounded Monday morning at 3:16 AM.
It was Joleen, telling me that Savannah had been in a bad auto accident in DC, but that she was okay. She went on to tell me the details, and how everything was handled, and that she and Daddy would be going to DC Monday morning to get everything straight as far as the vehicle, and, more importantly, to lay eyes on Savannah. No question that the car was totaled – she hydroplaned and hit a jersey-wall head-on. God’s protection and mercy intervened for my baby girl. The business stuff now is all taken care of thankfully, and Savannah is okay except for some bruises and being very sore. Our family is blessed and beyond grateful for God’s protection of our baby. And thankful for the prayers and help from many family and friends both close to home and around the world (Facebook is a wonderful thing for things like this). And she’ll always be “our baby,” thus this picture of her that I love. 
This has all reminded me of some phone calls, texts, etc, with life-changing news. I remember the call that Joleen had been in a bad accident when she was a Junior in high school. I remember the call from Talmadge telling me that he had a cancer diagnosis, as well as remembering Karen coming to my office at Elephant’s Fork to tell me the dire prognosis. The call from my dad this past February that Mama had fallen and broken her hip. Another call from Daddy back in 1988 telling us that my grandmother had passed away. A call back in 2011 telling me that Joleen and Savannah had been in an accident. Calls to stop whatever I was doing and go to the hospital, that something dire had happened and my presence was needed. There were many others through the years as well. Whenever something like this would happen, the ringing of the telephone or the text message notification, for the next few weeks, would make me jump and very anxious. I guess that’s just human nature.
But calls that I remember aren’t all bad. Some stand out as absolutely wonderful. I remember Daddy calling me, at age 10, telling me that I had a new sis
ter. And I remember many years later, that same sister calling to tell me she had a promotion to an administrative position in the school division, and many other good news calls from her. I remember calls about new babies – especially when Josh was born and Becky called me (and the reaction of their aunt when she found out I knew it before she did); and when Chuck called to “introduce me” to Daniel Evan Bradshaw. I specifically remember one call (of many) from Savannah, thanking me for a book that I had brought her from a trip, telling me that “I really love it.” Just the way she said it made it extra special. Other calls about new jobs, new relationships, babies on the way, new cars, other new “stuff,” and all sorts of things shared by special friends. Friends & family sharing and caring. If it’s important to you, it’s important to me – and visa-versa. I’ve made a few of those happy calls through the 
years too – new jobs, new homes, all that regular stuff that made me smile, and that I anxiously shared with others.
This all reminds me how blessed I am, in so many ways. This week I am especially blessed that my Savannah is okay. I am blessed that I have family and friends to which I can share news, both good and bad. And I am also blessed that the same family and friends know they can share with me, and that my heart and shoulder are always ready for you, whether its for crying or for jumping for joy. The true music of life is the relationship and love shared with those whom we love. And for this, I am thankful. Yet again – I am a blessed man.
But I still jump when the phone rings……
Dear God, thank you, thank you, thank you for protecting Savannah. You have blessed me with a loving and beautiful (both on the inside and out) niece, and I pray for her continued safety & protection. Thank you for the ones who make or receive those calls, and for the bond of love, family, and friendship that they represent. We need you, and we need each other; for having this I am truly grateful. Amen.
Sidney A. Neighbours
October 23, 2019
when one moves. Ordering internet service, changing the name on the water account, and things of this nature – in addition to the packing and physical moving – all have to be done, and thankfully I’ve had time sitting here at my makeshift desk to make them happen. But it’s still stressful, so I decided to work on my best stress reduction tool – writing a blog entry of something that hit my brain a few days ago. 
already there to rededicate our lives to Him. There are no doubt many people in Heaven today, or waiting to go, who found Jesus at Revival. Certain folks within the church “fed the preachers” during Revival, meaning that they put out the good china and silver, and cooked their very best meal for their family, along with the guest preacher, the church pastor, and their wives. It was assuredly a feast to be remembered. Lots of fried chicken and macaroni & cheese and homemade rolls. And chocolate pie. 
again, a story for another time. The bottom line was that people were making eternal life-changing decisions, which was a great blessing in their lives as well as the life of the church. 
But there are many, many times that we went through it more than just the 6 verses. If people were still in line to talk to the pastor, we started over. If the line had stopped, and the appropriate number had not been met (that’s a joke), the guest preacher would say that he knew there had to be at least one more to come up, and we’d keep playing and singing. 
serve my church well as their Director of Music and Organist. 
wedding. This is the toast that I gave at the wedding, and this blog post is in honor of them and written with much love. 
ng in God, I was pointed in a direction that got me back on the right track. And a big part of that direction was when I met John.
and pray that I have been a help and blessing to him as he walked through crisis as well. But, as thankful as I am that we’ve leaned on each other during hard times, I am even more thankful for the laughter and smiles we have shared. 
nd as well. I appreciate and cherish all my great conversations with her, whether it on a serious life topic, or leaning over and making a comment to make her laugh at the most inappropriate times, or even about the hot guy that jogged by in short while I was sitting in Starbucks on Colley working on my blog. But my favorite part of my friendship with Nikki is to see how happy she makes John, and how happy John makes her. 
was at Maryview, suffering from heart attack #2. Later that evening, I looked up and there was John and Nikki, right there with my family. John and Nikki are chosen family to me, and for that I am forever grateful.
already know. 
the other hand, the minute I got his name I did the only appropriate thing – went straight to Facebook and looked him up. Saw what he looked like, discovered we have a number of mutual friends, etc, etc. Isn’t that what everybody does here in 2019? And he may have done the same, I’m sure he has to be curious about me given the comments that I make that are, well, shall we say, “colorful.” All joking aside, it’s been a long time coming and I just hope and pray that everything will go smoothly from this point. 
schedule my classes on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I worked at the bank of Tuesdays and Thursdays. And always on Friday nights. I always worked then as a teller because I was fast and accurate. No computer, no teller machine, nothing like that. The teller window consisted of a 99-key adding machine and a drawer that you could open with a letter opener if you left your key at home. I had a great handwriting until I went to work in the bank and had to hand-write every deposit ticket that I took. Customers brought their checks to the window, told me what they wanted to do with them, and I wrote it up. By the end of the evening, my hand would ache like a toothache, and my feet did too. But many great memories were made standing at that teller counter. 
looked like I had everything and I was good to go. There are going to be lots and lots of documents to sign, but I chose the option to do everything electronically, so hopefully trees will not have to die to process my loan. Well, except for the trees that gave their lives for my printing goofs today. Back the train of time up to my banking days – not like that at all. Customers came in the bank, asked to see Mr. Holland, went back and talked to him, and he’d come out with the customer and tell one of us to “write up a note for Mr….. for whatever amount he needed.” We’d do it, have the customer to sign, and either give the cash or deposit the amount. Very different from today. 
but you can be assured that it’s all out there on the internet, whether you want it to be or not. 
reminder to be thankful. I pass people all the time that don’t have a home in which to live, and I know I’ve taught many children who didn’t know if they would be having dinner on the table at night. I have a roof over my head now, and I’m negotiating a new roof over my head. If I don’t eat dinner, it’s my own choice. I am truly a blessed man. 
to get things done, for the many gifts of life, including a printer that also scans, emails, and makes duplex copies. Guide my hand and my mind to make the decisions you would have me to make. You’ve blessed me so greatly, Lord, and for this I am truly thankful. Amen.
from a palette from Sherwin Williams.
meeting room when my cell phone rang.
the attacks hit closer to home. The day continued, as normal as possible, however the division wisely cancelled the activities for the evening. Everyone wanted to know what was going on, and folks in the building were sharing what they’d heard. Some inaccurate, but mostly accurate, and all too horrible to fathom. 
television, it’s what I could see hanging on the wall right outside my den door. It was a collage of travel pictures, memories of fun days. The picture on the top was a beautiful shot of the Twin Towers, taken from the deck of a cruise ship as we entered the Port of New York. I had been to the top of the towers on another visit to the Big Apple. It was a part of the incredible skyline. Now it was gone. A big pile of rubble on the ground, and thousands of people dead. And my picture on the wall, my memory of a wonderful vacation, was now a picture of a national treasure that was gone. Thousands of lives gone, and millions of lives changed, had happened – all on a beautiful September day. 
news” montage pop up on the television. Life is different, but if we let it stop us from living, then the bad men win. I refuse to let that happen. I have learned, especially in the past 5 years, that life is too precious to be afraid. It’s okay to be cautious, but life goes on. 
and children that were killed on 9/11/2001, and for those that were injured, both physically and psychologically. Thank you for the first responders who risked their lives to save others, and for those who made the ultimate sacrifice on this tragic day. I pray that our country will never see another tragedy of this magnitude. I also pray that we remember that these bad men were only a small portion of a people who are to be loved – loved like Jesus taught us to love. Please keep me, and those I love, safe as we continue our lives, not letting the bad men win. Amen. 
No lunch numbers to figure out. No lockers to help open. No collecting money and writing receipts. No figuring out bell schedules. No late bus duty. And so on and so forth. It is a unique feeling. School opening has been such a huge part of my life for the past 20 years. A new outfit, whether I needed or not, had to be purchased to wear on the first day of school. Difficulty sleeping the night before. It’s all part of being an educator, and this year – it’s gone. That’s okay, even though health issues dictated the urgency, I made the conscious and extremely prayerful decision to retire. Even though I’m at my temporary job at the school board office today (obviously not very busy, since I’m writing this), it’s not even close to the same, and school opening is a distant thought for most of the people here. Today has been one of the most unique days, with feelings that are hard to describe. So I wished my educator friends the best via Facebook and email and tried not to gloat. 
going today. My mind did, however, stop and help me remember some first days of school in my life, going back quite a few years. I started school in 1968, and graduated in 1982. Now you have to understand that, when I started school, Kindergarten was not offered in K-12 public and private schools. Kindergarten for me was at Mrs. Virginia (Ginny) Bailey’s home, in a garage that had been turned into a wonderful classroom that would mirror, or outshine, any classroom in a K-12 school. It was more like what we refer to today as pre-school, but it was an educational experience. We sat at tables, we had written assignments, learned to read and write – all the things that little kids need to know before they start school (I’m obviously a big proponent of pre-K education). Mrs. Bailey’s birthday was March 17 and mine was March 16, and I thought that was the greatest thing that we almost shared the same birthday. Over 50 years later, I still remember that. And I remember the love that Mrs. Bailey demonstrated to her students through education and preparation for future learning. 
us to sing!!! This made a great impression on me as well. We had a “rhythm band” with little red capes to wear in performances. If you raised your hand in the classroom to go to the bathroom at a non-appointed time, she always asked “is it necessary?” She could quiet a classroom with just one look. She insisted on using glass plates and punch cups at her Christmas function, insisting that we needed to learn the social graces and how to use the “good stuff.” Mrs. Drewery died several years ago, and unfortunately suffered from dimentia during her last days. The last time I saw her that she knew me, I told her how I remembered the piano and her playing, and she told me that she would expect that from a student like me. 
who was born August 24, just prior to school opening. They knew Joleen was on the way, as Mama was obviously very pregnant during the end of the prior school year. Back then there was no gender reveal, you found out the gender of the baby when he or she arrived. I was excited to tell them she’d arrived, that I was a big brother. They were excited for me, and for our family as well. 5th grade was a good year, I made new friends that year, and remember it as a good year. But announcing Joleen’s arrival on Day 1 was a highlight.
window, coming to the classroom door with a brown paper bag, and announcing, “Brother, you left your lunch on the bus.” She’s still looking after me 40+ years later. 
with the school division. Still retired, but this is a very brief gig to make me eligible for a better health insurance deal. It’s a long story – if you suffer from insomnia, call me sometime and I’ll tell you all the details, if you stay awake that long listening. It’s not a bad deal, and since I’m writing this “at work,” I’m obviously not overworked. 
bought a truck from them. Now, in the grand scheme of life, my daddy is a horse-trader and has bought & sold stuff as long as I can remember. Selling this truck was barely a blip on his radar, but this state trooper remembers, probably 45 years later, the kindness he felt from my parents. 
saying what a positive influence I had been to her. I barely knew this student, but my openness about my life had given her a sense of comfort and security she hadn’t had in school. 
unfortunately never forgotten, stay in the back seat of my brain. I remember the love and the “little things” that boosted me up far greater than the “bad stuff.” 
shout outs on Facebook, kind words, and lots of love. It’s been very humbling, and I appreciate the accolades more than anyone can imagine. It’s been a surreal experience on one hand, but it also, to this point, hasn’t seemed any different that summer vacation in the past. I had a couple of weeks off, then went to NEA convention, then had a few weeks home, then went to church music conference – a summer like I’ve had many years before. It now, however, is starting to feel different. I had lunch with Bob today, who filled me in on the exciting things he has going on in his school this year. I had lunch yesterday with Robbie and Joyce (and Hugh & Jerry) who are going back to school next week, with Robbie recruiting new members for the Education Association of Suffolk. I have been in charge for the past 3 years as president, but gladly relinquished those duties to someone else this year and ongoing. No writing a speech this year for the New Teachers Breakfast, no stressing 
over association membership, no worry about setting up a classroom and desk. Life really has changed, and it is feeling real. It’s no longer just summer vacation, it’s a new normal. They don’t teach a college course on how to retire, but thinking about no class for retirement brought back another one of those precious memories from the past. 
and I was (and still am) very thankful to those who answered their phones when I called to ask questions that I’m sure, looking back, seemed to be stupid questions, but when you don’t know, you don’t know. 
thick book, probably too heavy to carry in a backpack, but a good reference to embark on such an adventure. Not just for school administrators, but for all occupations and scenarios of life. There’s no way to encapsulate everything needed to do in a day’s time – thankfully God puts caring mentors in our path, good judgement in our heads and listens to our prayers when we need his guidance. He makes sure we never have to walk alone. 
for which I am thankful. Now onto the next chapter in my wild and crazy life – the life I couldn’t make up if I tried. 
tidbit of information, however, but I’m also thinking you’re impressed that I used a sports analogy!!!.
I participated in an exercise that required that I think of a safe place. The goal was, as I was feeling stress, to mentally put myself in that safe place where I felt comfort and peace. It became a very upsetting drill for me, as I could not come up with a place that I truly felt 100% safe. After a few tears and some encouraging from my therapist, I came up with a couple of places, and was able to complete the task. It continued to play on my mind, however, that I could be over 50 years old and struggling to think of a safe place. 
places, but as my journey through life has continued, I have finally, albeit gradually, come to the realization that a safe place isn’t a building, or a place at all, but in the people and events in my life that I bring me comfort. They’re in the times that I feel loved, and can freely express love. My safe places don’t have to be a specific physical location, but instead a special location in my heart and mind. 
It’s the unconditional love from my 4-legged child. It’s playing “Words With Friends” via the internet late at night with a friend. It’s sitting on the piano stool at home playing “Amazing Grace” on my grandmother’s piano, and remembering playing it for her. It’s being able to attend a church service and “just sit back and worship without having to work.” My safe places aren’t places after all – it’s the feeling that I get when I know I am loved and that the love I share is received. It doesn’t need 4 walls and a coat of paint – it just needs an open mind and willing heart. 
reporting from El Paso, Texas, the sight of a hate & racist based mass shooting where the 20 people killed were still lying on the floor of the Walmart behind him. He also told of a mass shooting in Dayton, Ohio where 9 people were killed and countless injuries. Both of the shooters were young, white males. You know, the “all-American boy” types. While not much has been released on the Ohio shooter, major hate-filled rhetoric has been discovered from the Texas shooter. The discourse in the country has now turned to gun violence . . . yet again. 
line is clearly drawn in my mind when it comes to assault-style rifles, drum magazines that can hold 100 bullets, “bumstocks” (which I’m sure I spelled incorrectly), and things of this nature. If you need any of these items for hunting, skeet shooting, etc, then you really need to reconsider whether you should be participating in those. Hell, you need to reconsider going out of the house without a helmet. Reasonable regulation is a loose term, but I think that some common-sense requirements for gun ownership are needed and negotiable to a point. 
special education was just beginning to evolve from the self-contained classroom to inclusion into general education classrooms. In these days, there would always be one classroom and teacher who taught only specific disabilities, and with a very small student to teacher ratio. I remember one day going into the ED Classroom. Back then, ED stood for Emotionally Disturbed – today it stands for Emotional Disability. The name pretty much defines the disability, thus most of the issues were behavior related. I became good friends with the teacher, and one day she asked me to stop by and help her with a filing cabinet, which I gladly did. I wasn’t successful (it was a mechanical need, and remember it’s me who I’m writing about), but I told her that if I had a knife I might could pick the lock (I do know how to do that). I skipped off on my merry way (well, I probably didn’t skip, but it sounds much more colorful). 
was closed. I was asked if I had told a student to bring a knife to school. With the assistance of some colorful language that I did not learn in Sunday School, I told the AP that I certainly had not and was insulted to even be asked that question. The AP told me that a student had told him that “a big white man” had told him to bring a knife to school, that he needed to use the knife, and that they’d he’d asked all the other big white men – I was the last one. He continued by telling me what had transpired, and why this had become an issue.
countries “shit-holes,” he hopes for immigrants from only the whitest countries on the planet, he tells Americans to “go back where they came from,” referring to their countries of heritage (even though 3 of the 4 were born in the US). He calls people “slow” and “crazy” and “lying.” And the list goes on and on. These words fall on ears that are often weak and not able to understand, and they take it at full face value. If our president, the leader of the free world, can think and say these things, why can’t I? And, to take it a step further, wouldn’t it be nice if I do something about it.” Like killing 20 people in the Walmart. My friends, it’s happening. It has happened. And if we don’t do something about it, it’s going to happen again. And again.
NeeNee says...... 