SEARCHING FOR SAUGER

Cold Cold Cold!!! 19 degrees this morning at 8:30 as I threaded my way down the ice-covered rocks toward the swirling waters of the mighty Ohio River below the Greenup locks and dam.

The sun was blazing through the light fog behind the dam, hundreds of seagulls worked the churning current and about a dozen brave souls stood rigid, casting chartreuse twisty-tail grubs into the chilly water.

I have been hearing about the large numbers of sauger being taken in the last month and decided to try my hand. I fished for almost two hours without a strike, but that never stopped me from enjoying the scenery and serenity.

I watched a few guys come down, make a few casts and then hoof it back to the warmth of the truck. One guy not far from me looked like Ralphie's little brother Randy; bundled up so big that he could scarcely move his arms to reel.

So my first fishing trip of 2008 brought no fillets to the table, but I'll be back, This was just an off day for the sauger.

MOUNTAINTOP REMOVAL, AN EASY DOLLAR?

OK...so now I'm gonna get on my soapbox for a minute.

I come from a long line of coal miners. My mom's family toiled long dark days in the mines of Floyd and Pike counties of eastern Kentucky. Days of hard labor, dusty, cold, dangerous, and again..dark days. They were deep miners. They worked the coal inside the mountain. The only visible sign of a deep mine was the loading tipple and the 'gob pile' of carbonaceous slate that was discarded over the hillside near the mouth of the mine or trucked away and deposited nearby. The gob invariably would catch fire either spontaneously or with the help of a match. The ensuing product of burnt gob resulted in a commodity termed 'red dog' and it is still used today in Kentucky as a substitute for gravel to coat many a muddy holler road.

I sort of followed in the footsteps of my family, earning a degree in Mining Technology from Pikeville College. While I never worked actually extracting coal, I chose the path of quality control and analysis. Out of college I worked for Ashland Coal and then Arch Coal in the lab.

I know who buttered my bread, bought my groceries and gave me electricity when I flipped a switch.

I have spent many hours underground studying roof control, ventilation, machinery and blasting and explosives. I've witnessed first hand the hardships and dangers that miners face every day.

I've studied the strip mining activities and the reclamation requirements that at the time required the site to be returned to the original contour. That practice seemed devastating to the topography of the mountains 25 years ago, but today the strip mining activities and mainly those of mountaintop removal are destroying the beauty of mountains. The 'original contour' laws are thrown out the window, in favor of so-called economical development. The 'flat' featureless plains in the middle of nowhere are supporting landing strips, golf courses and trailer parks. These operations are often out of the view of the public eye and seem to be 'out of sight, out of mind'.

Silas House wrote in the Lexington Herald Leader:"The sites are usually in isolated areas where as few people as possible can see them. Since the coal industry's major defense is that it's providing much-needed flat land for development, I wonder how many people are going to drive the winding, crumbling roads into places like Lower Bad Creek to shop or build homes on subdivided land. Not many, I assume."

While the technology is ever-growing in the mining industry, with the development of robotic remote control continuous miners, longwall systems and the safest coal mines in the world. It seems that we could mine the coal underground with greater safety and efficiency and preserve the natural beauty of our beloved mountains. The stripping of the mountain top, filling the valleys and hollow heads with rock and choking the streams, literally laying waste to the land is not what we deserve. There has to be a better way, not just the cheap, easy way that rapes the land and recovers the smallest seams of coal. Lets save the smaller seams near the summits for our future generations to mine with the unforeseen technology that is certain to come in the future.

Want to see firsthand the atrocious scars? use Google Earth to zoom down on any light colored spot amidst the verdant sea of eastern Kentucky and West Virginia. The proof is there!

Get involved, join the fight!. Visit I Love Mountains!

GRITS AND HAGGIS

A few years back Sharla and I spent a few days in a B&B in Sevierville, Tennessee. The place was occupied only by us and another couple. The breakfast table was set and the four of sat down. Introductions were at hand and we couldn't help but notice the accent. John and Ann were from Glasgow, Scotland. They flew to Baltimore, rented a car and were driving the length of the Blue Ridge Parkway. They were taking little side trips off the road to experience more of America than just the scenery.

The conversation was intriguing and sparked interest every time a new course was set before us.

Grapefruit with cinnamon sugar; a first for both of us guys, homemade biscuits and strawberry preserves, gravy, salt cured ham, eggs,fresh churned butter, pancakes and then the host sat before us a rather large bowl of southern comfort....Grits!

The Scotsman's eyes turned to his wife and see likewise. Then they both looked at us.

Fear not! I said, that is only a bowl of grits. I went on to say that at least the hostess served them in a bowl and not already on your plate as a lot of restaurants in the south do. With a little trepidation they both spooned a portion onto their plates and our eyes locked on Ann as she cautiously lifted a petite spoonful and deposited it onto the tip of her tongue. "Feels like frog spawn" she said and her husband quipped; "when have you ever eaten frog spawn?"

All in all they chalked it up as a new element of their trip.

Our conversations naturally centered around food and I had to bring up a question about that delectable Scottish dish..haggis. Now the fun began. While grits are kind of benign and somewhat one dimensional a haggis is quite complex.

Grits are just corn.

Haggis is oats, onions, salt, pepper, herbs, a liberal shot of whiskey,the heart, liver and lungs of a sheep all cooked and bound tightly in the stomach of the said sheep.

The haggis is traditionally served at a Robert Burns Dinner in celebration of the favorite son of Scotland.Which is coming up this January 25th.

If anyone has a place open at their table for the celebration....call me!

Otherwise..I'll probably celebrate with a meatloaf and taters instead of haggis, neeps and tatties.

e Pow'rs, wha mak mankind your care,

And dish them out their bill o' fare,

Auld Scotland wants nae skinking wareThat jaups in luggies;

But, if ye wish her gratefu' prayer

Gie her a haggis!

BLESSED ASSURANCE

I know it seems that most of my postings revolve around the comings and goings of my son, but for good reason he is quite often my inspiration.

Last night (here we go again) as we were doing the bedtime routine, Sharla left the room soon after the prayers. It was my turn in the floor beside the bed awaiting the peaceful sound of his slumber. We sang a song and I told a story and all started to settle down.

The room was bathed in a warm red glow compliments of 'Lightning McQueen" and the soft drone of the humidifier beckoned the arrival of the 'sandman'.

I became lost in my own little world. My feeble mind was overrun with a play-by-play of the unpleasant events of the day. Carson had spent the better part of his school day in 'time-out".My finances(or mostly the lack thereof) weighed heavily upon me. My thoughts were consumed with how to provide for and protect my family. I was overwhelmed.

Then I felt a soft touch on my arm and heard the sweet words "Everything is gonna be OK Daddy, I'm right here."

Tears welled up in my eyes immediately. How could he have known what I was feeling? How did he know how much I was hurting? How did he know those words would touch me?

There were no more sounds. Just gentle breathing.

I left the room, still teary eyed, and shared with Sharla those comforting words.

I can only assume that his prayers had been answered and he was sharing with me the faith he has in me to be a father and husband.

It had to be his prayer, because in my selfish attempt to 'take care of it myself' I had neglected to ask for God's help. I know I'm not alone on this as many of us believe that we we can handle the 'small' problems. The problem is; all the 'small' ones add up and eventually become one 'BIG' problem.

I know Carson prays for me every night, and I hope he always will.

THE POWERS THAT BE

Carson’s bedtime prayer Sunday night was filled with the usual thanks and blessings for all the people in his life, but that night he ended his prayer with “and I thank you Lord for my Super Hero powers”.

Several years back there was a movie called Mystery Men. A futuristic tale of a group of wanna-be super heroes that band together to try and save the real super hero that had been taken captive and held for ransom. The wanna-be’s consisted of The Shoveler, Mr Furious, Blue Raja, The Bowler, the Invisible Kid and my favorite…the ‘Slpeen’. They all had talents, but they had yet to develop into the kind of talents that could be used to benefit society. Especially the talent of the Spleen. His claim to fame was ‘flatulence’ the 'SBD' type and with a flick of his coat tail he could dispose of a foe from across the room.
They formed a band of crime fighters and used the mediocre talent of each member to build the power of the group to super hero strength.
The Mystery Men relied on the talents of many to serve one purpose.
We as Christians often feel that we don’t have what it takes to perform at the Super Hero level but we don’t need to be super heroes to do the work of our Father. We do need to band together and work as one unit, combining the many talents and gifts that dwell within us to reach those that don’t know the power of God’s saving grace.

Don’t think for a second that you don’t have the power in you to be a ‘Super Hero’ for the Lord.
He gave us the talents and expects them to be used!

Don’t keep your talents a ‘mystery’. Expose them, expound upon them, exercise them, but most of all… excite others about what Jesus means to you.

BOLT OUT OF THE BLUE

Don’t take shelter under a tree, stay away from metal objects, don’t be the most prominent object, stay low, seek shelter in a depression or ditch.
Sound familiar?
These are ways we have all been taught to protect ourselves from being struck by lightning during a storm.
We all have the common sense (hopefully) to follow these rules and get out of the rain, seek shelter and avoid becoming a target of a potentially fatal lightning strike.
We see the storm clouds rising, the skies darkening, we hear the rumble of distant thunder and we take action to protect ourselves and the ones we love from being harmed. I love a good summer thunderstorm. I love to watch the lightning streak and hear the crackle. I love the feel of thunder that sometimes rattles your bones and seems to move the earth. It gives the feeling that you are alive. The smell of ozone that sometimes envelopes the eerie yellow-like landscape preceding the onslaught is a sensation I’ll never forget.
However; I like to experience this when I know I am safe. I like to experience this from the confines of my porch, where if the rain starts to come in sideways, I can retreat inside and continue watching from the picture window in the living room. I am not afraid of a storm. I AM afraid of lightning! I avoid lightning at all costs and will continue to do so.

But what about that rare form of lightning that can strike without warning from a seemingly cloudless blue sky?. That proverbial ‘BOLT OUT OF THE BLUE’ .
A bolt from the blue is a term which refers to a form of lightning that strikes out of an apparently cloudless sky. It carries around ten times the current of an ordinary bolt of lightning.
Ten times more current? That packs a wallop!

The sky Friday was blue and sunny. There were no clouds looming on the horizon. No sounds of thunder rumbling in the distance.
Seems like the conditions were perfect for a “BOLT OUT OF THE BLUE’, and then KABOOM!!!!

I was struck!

At first I felt no pain, just a tingling and then a numbness overtook my entire body. I didn’t know you could be hit while inside the safety of your own home.
While I was not physically harmed, my spirit had been crushed and bruised. I learned of a so-called joke gone awry aimed at my wife that over-stepped the boundaries of decency and was a full-on frontal attack of MY Christian life, My marriage and My integrity.

I felt so violated.

While this has been a long 48 hours, I have found the forgiveness for this man. I have sought the support and prayers of my wife, son, pastor and my ‘band of brothers’ prayer group and my Sunday School class.They always have my back!
I know enough to seek shelter from a storm. I live my life to the utmost and don’t want to walk around in fear; and I won’t!

Continue to remember us in your prayers.
Pray without ceasing!