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This story comes from Africa, A long, long time ago,

about two farmers in their fields, each with his row to hoe.

That's when God went walking down the road between

Wearing one of his many hats, the one that's blue and green.

The blue side , it was pointed East, the green side pointed West

And anyone who saw one side, just plain couldn't see the rest.

So one man saw the green side, and one man saw the blue

Looking at God's brand-new hat, from different points of view.

And God just kept on strolling, enjoying the morning breeze,

until he passed out of their view, behind a clump of trees.

That's when God started walking back, heading away from town,

but just before he did that, he turned his hat around.

So the man who saw the green side, and the man who saw

This election threatens to reduce the level of civility in this country to near barbarism.  I, personally, think it's because there aren't really two distinct sides in the race, just two versions of the same thing - liberal and liberal light.  It's about power, not ideas and that makes for a lot of ugliness.  Some of the self-proclaimed "tolerant" have been guilty of some of the worst excesses.

We are a nation of many beliefs and values, but there is room for all so long as there is tolerance as well. By tolerance, I do not mean that we must embrace and encourage all beliefs without question. One may believe that homosexuality is a sin and still fight for another's right to be gay if they want to be. You may believe that as a Christian I am an infidel and that is okay so long as you don't

Good morning!

 Apparently a blog entry cannot be any longer than the visible window.  I tried doing my first post last night and found that if I typed off the bottom of the window and the save buttons disappeared off the top of the window, I can't get them back to save the post.

Keeps us from being too long winded.  I am, unfortunately, rather loquacious and have a whole long entry sitting in memory waiting to be pasted into this space.  What I have decided to do for now is to post this little bit of explanation and then paste the original entry into it as a comment and see how that works. 

 Likely a bug that needs working out of the website is all.  Hope they get it fixed soon.  It's a little aggravating.  I nearly lost all my earlier post and would have if I hadn't copied it to paste into

Hi everyone, hope you did'nt think me being rude, what with just joining the mafia and then dissapearing but the very day after i joined you all my computer hard drive was eaten by the worst possible virus out there. Still , back now and hoping to become active soon, also got new recording software so i guess i will be pulling my hair out with that before i can post something,  (hair, who am i kidding!!)  hope your all fine and

Hi everbody, just joined the mafia this morning and would like to say i'm proud to be here. i would like to pass my best through to you all and look forward to talking with you soon..joe

I read an interesting reponse to a letter written by someone asking if Earl had made a mistake on one of his recordings.The first one to respond went in to much detail about Earl being perfect and how he never has messed up and that it wasn't possible to mess up on a song that you wrote yourself.I totally disagree on all counts.

I have always thought of Earl as THE man but it is ridiculous to think anyone is above a slip up now and then.I'll bet if asked he would quickly tell you he has fumbled many times.I saw Larry McNealey playing in Dollywood many years ago and the band kicked off while he was tuning his banjo.He played the whole song out of tune remarking it was the Chineese version.Most of us know how great he played.

It is so hard not to get frustrated with our own development and I

Well yesterday I got to spend another great day at the Special Olympics with my son. If you have never gotten to spend anytime with these children you just don't know what you've been missing. Over the past few years I have gotten to know alot of these kids very well, and have grown to love them as my own. We take for granted manythings that these kids have to struggle with everyday of their lives. The main thing that I have learned that these children want and crave is simply for someone to show them that they are loved, and to be accepted. We had a great day. I laughed with joy at their excitement, and also cried with a heavy heart, to see some struggle so hard. If you have never volunteered to help in this, do yourself a big favor and get involved. It will bring you a life time of joy.

I have finished the prototype of my Cottonwood Vintage 11.  First looks on my blog.  More pictures to come.  Check my blogspot for details at

This blog was originally posted on the Banjo Hangout, due to the sincerity of what I wrote (and due in part to the fact that I am too lazy to write a new one) I chose to modify it and re-post it here. I'm glad to be here amongst all my gangsta buddies!

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Looking back on my childhood, the fondest memories are those of plodding around my grandparents' farms. Throwing rocks, shooting slingshots, fishing in farm ponds. I remember Grandma's vivid ghost stories (The Old Rockhouse Ghost in Stokes County). She would gather all of us kids together on the front porch after dark and weave her ghostly stories while rocking in her old cane-bottomed rocker.

I remember corn shuckings, hog killings and quilting bees. All forms of maintaining the sense of community and family. I remember

Fifty years hence they buried you heroes of Chosin,
As they lowered you together in the rock-laden ground-
bugles blew not a note, drums beat not a sound.
Your bodies bloodied and frozen.
...Will your children understand what for?

Every year since, your comrades still answer the call,
Guns fire once more, the bands rejoice for all to hear-
in the parades, while passing ranks of old heroes cheer.
The crippled and maimed observe from their flanks, as the
tears of the old men still fall.
...The young people ask, "What are they marching for?"

b. rine (inspired from Australian folk tune)

I was just thinking of an old freind and Dad (may he for ever rest in