Category: Stories (Page 2 of 3)

These thoughts are contained in an email I sent to some Davidson College alums who formed a group called DAVF to discuss non-religious and political current issues, explaining why I resigned.

Morning, Charlie, et als (I’m not very computer savy. I’m hoping this goes to all on the DAVFers but it looks on my computer like it’s only going to you, Charlie, and if that’s the case, would you please pass it on).

I’m one of those atheists Charlie referred to. Actually, I guess I’m more of an agnostic. I was raised Southern Baptist (I learned to say all the books of the Bible in Sunbeams, went to SS [my dad was superintendent of the SS for over 30 yrs], “preaching”, youth choir practice, Baptist Training Union and Sunday nite “preaching” every Sunday, Royal Ambassadors and, when a teenager, adult choir practice [when we were all home, my mom &dad and my 2 bros and I all sang in the choir] on Wednesdays, revivals at least 1 week a year, sometimes twice, and study courses (intensive Bible study for all ages) once or twice a year. As an adult, I was the college-age SS teacher and a choir member at Carrboro Bap when I was in law school at Chapel Hill, a SS teacher, choir member, deacon and deacon chair, trustee and trustee chair, missions committee chair, Boy Scout master, pastor search committee chair, music minister search committee chair, and church moderator at 1st Baptist, Monroe,NC until I resigned my membership about 15 years ago and became, in the words of Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong, a member of the church alumni association. My oldest son, 52, a UNC grad, has a degree from the Southern Baptist seminary in Louisville and is in his 18th yr as one of three chaplains at the federal medical prison facility in Lexington,KY. My youngest, 48, DC ’95, is a hi school ass’t principal just outside Louisville and also a very committed Christian. My brother-in-law, a national merit scholar at Duke and Law Review at Vanderbilt law school, gave up his practice with the largest law firm in NE Tenn about 20 yrs ago and is a charismatic, evangelical minister in Kingsport. 

                                                                       May 31,2020

Dear Sam,

Congratulations on escaping from hi school in one piece. It’s hard to believe you’re 18 and its 2020. It seems like only yesterday was March 7, 2002 and your Mom and Dad and Phoenix and Tai were living on Vinedale and your Dad called to tell us our first grandchild, a whopper at over 8 lbs, had come kicking and screaming into the world. Grandma and I were thrilled that our first was a grandson and we came to see you soon after you got home. My mother was 92 and Janet’s dad was 82 and her mom was 81 and I was afraid something could happen to one of them before mom got to see her first great grandchild and Mac and Mary, their 2^nd, Josh being their first. So, on Mothers’ Day weekend in May, Grandma and I came back up to see you and brought your 3 great grands along, and they were thrilled, too!

                                                                          ENTREPRENEURSHIP

I’ve previously written about my grandfather, John McCamey Caldwell’s entrepreneurship, resulting in his acquisition of 1,000 acres of land by growing cotton on it, operating a family farm adequate to support a wife and twelve children, owning and running a country store to provide life’s necessities to his family and the community, owning stock in the Bank of Matthews and a building near the railroad in Matthews which, I think, still stands.  His fourth child, my Dad, Joe McCamey Caldwell, lived under Grandpa’s roof and worked on the farm until he was 25. Unlike his middle son, me, Dad was fairly reticent, as were some, maybe most, of his siblings. For over 20 years, Dad’s brother and my Uncle, Jack and Aunt Virginia lived less than 200 yards across the garden behind our house on Rama Rd where he and Dad faithfully grew most of the vegetables we ate, fresh in summer, and from the jars of green beans, black eyed and crowder peas, okra and tomatoes and frozen corn in winter, which Mom , with Bill, Harry’s and my limited and begrudging help, had canned or frozen, “put up”, in country parlance, during the summer. Mom told a great story of how once, Uncle Jack and Uncle Don, Dad’s and Jack’s youngest brother, were over to visit Dad. They were sitting in the den and she was in the kitchen, separated from the den by a partial wall with a counter to pass food thru to the den, where we ate, with cabinets above and louvered shutters which could be pulled across the counter to cut off view between the rooms but which didn’t restrict sound. She said she kept listening for conversation from the den for quite some time and hearing none, she peeped in to see if the three brothers were still breathing!

                                                                      HOOK IT, KIKER

This story was prompted by my regaling Janet yesterday morning with stories from my glory (at least in my mind) days, most of which, except some of the following, she’s heard more than once.

I had played Little League baseball for two years but my first school team sports were in 8^th grade at McClintock Jr Hi in Charlotte. I played JV football and as soon as the season ended I started JV basketball, coached by Joe Coulter. My annual is in Louisville and I’m here in Bakersville, so I’ll name my teammates that I remember: Danny Epps, John Corne, John Lagana, Chris Proctor, Billy Crutchfield, Carl Helms and Kenny Kiker.

                                                          BONE SPURS & BUM KNEES

                                                            Veterans Day, 11/11/19

I wonder how many veterans are alive today. The number will lessen each year of course because of our volunteer military. I’m a strong advocate of compulsory public, not necessarily military, service of a least one, preferably two years after high school. It will never happen because most parents want their kid on the fast track to success, straight to college, then grad school, then a sweet job, marriage and grandkids. No deviation from that path even for the good of the country, not to mention the good of the kid. Think about it: kids sit behind a desk for 13 straight years and then are shuffled into another 4 or more years of the same. They need a break. They also can use a year or two of maturing out from under the eye and jurisdiction of mom & pop.

                                                                         JOKES

The frost is on the pumpkin in Kentucky this morning so I lingered snug in my warm bed a little longer than usual, and a couple of funny stories came to mind, inspiring me to put finger to key.

Readers Digest, a staple at our house growing up, had a regular feature called My Most Unforgettable Character which I found interesting. I’ve known quite a few UC’s in my life but I’d have to rank my maternal grandfather, William Badger Beaty as, if not my MUC, then certainly very near the top of the list. I can’t tell you anything about his lineage. We’ll have to call on cousin Pat Hughes, the Beaty historian for that ( Pat extensively researched and wrote about our Beaty family tree and I have a copy somewhere but can’t put my hands on it-Pat, will you send me another copy-thanks). I think his father’s name was Felix, weird enough, but BADGER? Who in the world would name their kid after a “short-legged omnivore in the families Musteliade (which also includes the otters, polecats, weasels, and ferrets), and Mephitidae (which also includes the skunks)” (Wikipedia), or maybe Felix was just a University of Wisconsin fan. Apparently cousin Max Head was impressed by the moniker; he, with I assume his wife, JoAnn’s concurrence, named a son Badger. Ouch.

    Labor Day weekend usually marks the official end of the beach season, though I love the beach best in October when it’s not 95, but still pleasant under the sun and warm in the water. But from ages 13-21, my beach trips ended before August 15, when football practice began.

    This will be a short tale as I don’t want to labor too hard or long on Labor Day. Other memorable beach trips, such as the one with our family and Aunt Nig, Mike & Pat, or the many with Bill Carr and, when he became of age, Harry, and later, Chris Pappas, will have to wait for another day.

BEST YET

                Dad started in the wholesale business in the late 40’s or early 50’s, after spending his first year or two out of the navy working as a carpenter on the payroll of Charlton Forbis (Sanford’s brother and Shannon (Shank)’s uncle), who was a subcontractor for TJ Watson, a general contractor who was building houses for the returning veterans in booming Charlotte. There were no precut studs in those days and no power saws, at least none owned by Charlton, and Dad said he spent many an hour cutting studs, window and floor jacks, floor and ceiling joists, and rafters with a hand saw. My partner, Frank Griffin, said he was called to the law following a mule in a cotton field. I guess Dad was called to the mercantile business by an arm tired of cutting lumber.

Given what I wrote yesterday, in reality, I guess I was only quasi rather
than semi recruited by Carolina, but I was definitely semi recruited to play
football by Wake Forest. East Meck head coach, Don Hipps, SS teacher at St
John’s Baptist and prodigious as well as prolific purveyor of extremely
creative profanity and vulgarity, as, when chastising Martin Brackett for
sluggish performance at Monday morning pre-season practice, Coach inquired
as to whether he’d spent the weekend sitting around playing with his
colorfully characterized male member, had played blocking back in the
single-wing at Wake, maybe under Peahead Walker. I don’t know whether Hipps
put in a good word for me at Wake or not (if he did, he didn’t tell me), but
an assistant coach invited me up for their opening game of the ’63 season
against Va Tech.