Archive for January, 2006

RIP Natalie Maines

So Natalie Maines of the Dixie Chicks is telling us she is “done” with country music..she never liked it anyway, even though it made her a star, gave her opportunities that most people will never have and not to mention a wealthy woman, because of the backlash for her infamous comment regarding her fellow Texan, President George W. Bush.

Alls I have to say about that is this….I just hope she someday doesn’t find herself in a situation where she needs country music to make a living. Say, she has a shady business manager who invests a lot of her money in some sort of bad real estate deal or forgets to make sure the IRS gets their yearly contribution from her. Or, if she actually matures and realizes if it weren’t for country music, she would probably be slinging hash in a greasy spoon in Lubbock and she wants to give twang a stab again. I don’t know that country fans will be forgiving about this latest bout she’s having with diarrhea of the mouth.

Country music fans are probably the most loyal in the entertainment world. They are wrongly made fun of (especially by Nashvillians every June) but they will stick with “their” artist through thick and thin and through brilliance and crap (think Chris Gaines). They make it possible for artists to make a living until they either drop dead onstage or have to be wheeled out by their nurse.

I think a majority of country fans had forgiven Natalie for her lack of articulation and elegance of speech but denouncing the music, like she has done…I do believe she has just dug her own Music City grave, for real this time.

Missing the Two Sexiest Fat Men Alive

Are Rick and Bubba ever coming back on the air in Nashville?!?!?!

Sure, I can listen to them online but it’s not the same as in the car. Somebody, PLEASE bring them back. Nashville needs Bucky Beaver, Dicky Nadmire, Speedy, Don Juan and all the gang. COME ON RADIO PEOPLE!!

Steeples and Graffiti

My pal Eric McLemore says God lives in Williamson County. I think this is true. On News Channel 5+, they have their own show, they have their own section of the Tennessean and it appears to be where lots of people want to live.

The aforementioned theory of God’s residence was confirmed to me last night while watching the news on Channel 2.

Forest Hills Baptist Church sits on the corner of Old Hickory Blvd. and Hillsboro Rd., where it has sat since it was started in about 1959 or 60. The original home of the church was in a house on the corner across the street. (I believe the house is still there, now a private home). Ground was broken on the current sanctuary in October of 1978. Technically, Forest Hills Baptist Church is on the Davidson County side, but the Williamson County line is a hop, skip and a jump away from the church property and a lot of the church’s members live there.

The steeple was in dire need of some repair work and a paint job so the church had a company take it down, fix ‘er up and put it back. A snafu of biblical proportions ocurred though when the company hired to fix it painted it (gasp!) white instead of the beige on the church trim. There seems to be a disagreement on whether to keep it white or have them repaint it.

A disagreement over a church steeple is news?!?!?! It shows to go you that anything that happens in Williamson County is news because God DOES live there.

I can laugh about this because Forest Hills Baptist Church is the church I attended (as did my philosophical friend Eric) and was a member of from the time I was 6 years old until I married and moved to the other side of town. I was baptized there, married there, and I put the only known graffiti on the bathroom walls there when I was about 7 when during a service, I went to the restroom and had this uncontrollable urge to write on the bathroom wall. I knew I couldn’t (and wouldn’t have anyway) written anything nasty so I wrote “Jesus” on the Kotex box. The last time I looked, in about 1995, my own brand of witness was still there, in all its glory on the holy Kotex dispenser.

The Git R Dones: Party of Seven

Most of the extended Smiff Clan went to Sunday lunch after church today. Eating out with Mother In Law Smiff is a serious matter. It’s more than just grabbing a bite to eat. Being she’s something of a well known Southern cook extraordinaire food is a big deal.

So anyway, we all agreed to go to Logan’s, since they had not been graced with our presence in awhile. We decided to call ahead and my wise acre, but quite humorous 19 year old nephew, Jeremy made the call. When they asked for the name of the party, he told them to expect “The Git R Dones” in about 15 minutes.

The Git R Dones arrived and Princess Daughter thought we were kidding about our pseudonym. When she found out we were serious, of course, being 12, she was mortified. She kept holding her ears everytime they’d go to call a name. Finally, the hostess announced over the microphone “Git R Done, party of 7” and the best part she said it like our hero, Larry the Cable Guy would. The Princess was not at all amused when I answered with a “yee haw.”

Now, I understand why my father used to enjoy embarassing us so long ago. It’s quite fun.


I got to thinking about teachers yesterday when through a “can you believe this” set of email events, I was in contact, through email with an old teacher of mine that I have not seen since about 1981.

Marianne Hawkins started teaching in the Williamson County School system in 1974. The next year, when I was in first grade, her classroom was next to Mrs. Campbell’s first grade class. Lipscomb Elementary School had bought into the “open” classroom” theory so it was like the classes were all together. You could see everything that went on in the class next to you and probably helped cultivate a lot of ADD in kids.

Miss Hawkins was young and lots of fun. All the kids really dug her. By the time I got to fifth grade, she had jumped over there (I guess she tired of Dick and Jane and wanted more “mature” fare) and I got to be in her class.

Miss Hawkins did some babysitting on the side and often stayed with our next door neighbor’s daughter while they went out of town. We were pretty tight with the neighbors and since she was my teacher, I got to spend some neat time with her away from school and boy, was it fun. Miss Hawkins truly loved children and she must not have gotten too sick of me since she hauled us some places in her small, ultra cool car. If memory serves, it was a little Chevrolet of some sort but it could’ve been the Beverly Hillbillies jalopy, for all I cared cause I got to hang out with Miss Hawkins. She even let us call her by her first name away from school.

Miss Hawkins turned into Mrs. Meriweather and “Mom” to a couple of kids, while I moved on to junior high, high school, marriage, Momhood of my own and I have not laid eyes on her since the early 80’s. Even so, I can remember minute, obscure details about her and she was a real role model for a little girl. She told me she had been teaching for 31 years (what?!?!?!) is a mother in law now and was looking at retirement soon. Sheesh, I remember her 28th birthday…I’m sure she does too.

Ironic catching up with Ms. Hawkins/Meriweather yesterday when I heard about a car accident involving my 14 year old son’s History teacher, Betty Peden. Ms. Peden epitomizes dedication much like Ms. Hawkins/Meriweather.

Ms. Peden retired a few years back from Metro Schools. She taught at one of the inner city high schools for something like 30 years. She hated retirement and missed her kids. So she jumped into the Sumner County School system. The thing about that that gets me is Ms. Peden lives in Antioch and Knox Doss Middle School is just about in Gallatin. School starts at 7:30 every morning so no telling what ungodly hour she has to rise and start her treck across town.

Thursday, she left school, probably went home but came all the way back to Hendersonville (or was trying to) for the basketball game that evening when she was involved in a multi-car wreck and is recovering in Vanderbilt with some pretty nasty injuries. I’m astounded that she would want to come back after being there all day. I certainly don’t want to go back to my job in the evening.

Ms. Peden and Mrs. Meriweather are dedicated. God bless them both.

Can’t Be The Biggest Loser

DANG! I was hoping to try out so I could wear nothing but a sports bra and biker shorts on tv. Now that auditions have been canceled, the world will not get to view all of my lovlieness.


Do you ever read the obituaries?

I do every single day and have since I was a kid. People think I’m morbid but I’m not. (Never mind I love and The obits are interesting. My next door neighbor, Dorothy Jones, read the obits everyday and she was always in the know about everything going on. I look at it as keeping up.

I’ve learned of deaths of parents of people I knew from school, or people I used to go to church with, work with, etc. When you have experienced loss, you know how much it means to get a card, or a visit at the funeral home. I learned this from my own father’s death and try to respond when I can in such situations. It’s impossible when a death occurs to let everybody you know know the news.

Another fun thing about the obituaries is that some are very long and detailed, giving lots of interesting info about the person who has passed. You can find out people who are kin to each other that you didn’t know were kin.

The funniest thing is seeing the nicknames. There are lots of people called “Pee Wee”, “Booger,” “Big Mama”…whoda thunk the obits could be so entertaining? The nicknames give a bit of an insight as to who the person was and what kind of personality they had.

Needless to say, to see an obituary of an infant, or child or any young person is disturbing and I always wonder what happened and say a silent prayer for the families left behind.

Obituaries aren’t cheap either. When my stepfather died last year, it cost a buttload to have a small obituary and a photo in the Sunday paper. Talk about price gouging!! My stepfather, being tight with a buck, would have pitched a royal fit if he’d have known my mother spent like $500 on his obituary.