She Never Got Over It

I ran into an old friend at the Strawberry Festival on Saturday. I don’t see her often but every time she sees me she starts laughing. This time I decided to capture the moment.

Connie grew up in a suburb of Reynolds called Potterville. You may know it as Taylor Mill. I’ve known her all her life. I knew her dad and mom and her uncles and her aunts and her whole family. Being the town undertaker you get to know a lot of folks rather well.

I’m not sure how many years ago it was but it was at least a dozen. It was a Saturday and I had two funerals scheduled that day and it was as cold as cold can get. There was an estate sale at the Irene Whatley place in Reynolds that had been advertised for weeks. I decided to go by first thing that morning to check out what they had for sale.

I was definitely the only person there in a suit. Only an undertaker with a funeral scheduled that day would wear their Sunday go to meeting clothes to an estate sale. As I walked around the yard that day looking at stuff I was about to freeze to death. I don’t think I had ever been so cold.

The auctioneer had a few large heaters in the yard that people would gather around to thaw out. Connie and I found ourselves gathered around the same heater that morning. My feet were so cold they were numb. In fact they were so cold that I took my shoe off and put my foot in front of the heater as I made small talk with Connie. After a couple of minutes I told Connie that I smelled something burning. We looked down and both of us saw smoke coming from my foot. About three seconds later I felt the pain. Real pain.

I limped through a couple of funerals that day. Actually I limped for a week or two after that day. I got over the burn. But Connie never got over it.

Without exception every time I see her she starts laughing. And she remembers her crazy undertaker nearly burning his foot off.

That's the stuff of which friendships are formed.

Only a Memory

Everybody has a hero when they are a kid. In fact you may be somebody’s hero and you don’t even know it. And the opportunity to be someone’s hero is probably a short term thing.

Yesterday I ran into my childhood hero at the Strawberry Festival in my home town.

I have written here that when I was growing up in Reynolds the people of Reynolds supported the community. The community consisted of church, the Kiwanis Club, the Woman’s Club, the local businesses and the school.

Reynolds High School was more than an institution. It was the center of activity in town. I have fond memories of the Halloween Carnival that was held each year right in the halls of the high school. I remember going to piano recitals when the auditorium upstairs at the high school would be completely full. The entire community came to support the kids in the recital.

But when I think of growing up I always think first of the basketball games at Fickling Gymnasium at Reynolds High School. Our team was the Reynolds Tigers – purple and gold were the colors. And everybody showed up to support the home team. I think I can name every player that played on the girl’s team as well as the boy’s team during my elementary school years.

But there was one player who stood out.

Ronnie Visage, pictured here in the yellow shirt with my brother in law, was an incredible high school basketball player who dominated on the basketball court. I can still hear the crowd cheering for Ronnie and the cheerleaders calling his name. “Ronnie Ronnie he’s our man. If he can’t do it NOBODY can.” I truly believed that to be true. As a boy coming up that wanted to be a basketball player I idolized this Reynolds Tiger. He was my inspiration as I shot 1000 times a day in that same gymnasium during my own high school years. The high school had closed by then but the memories of Ronnie Visage playing in that gym were very much alive as I shot basketballs until I had blisters on my hands.

You will notice that Ronnie’s basketball playing days are pretty much over. Actually I should say completely over.

The point here is our opportunity to be someone’s hero doesn’t last forever.

Whatever we do well now will one day be only a memory.

Does It Get Better Than This?

I just wanted you all to see that we had a great time today at the Strawberry Festival in Reynolds. Taylor Reese Goddard fell asleep on her Papa’s shoulder.

Does it get better than this? If it does please don't tell me. I don’t think I could stand it.

I'm Voting for Brooke

I’m not much of a TV person these days. As you know I travel most all the time and have to go out to eat when I’m on the road. It is usually kind of late when I get back to the hotel room and then there are business emails to get caught up with and work to do.

Then I unwind by writing a blog. And I usually get in the bed and read before I go to sleep. How long I read is according to how sleepy I am.

The television is rarely ever turned on.

In spite of all that, due to modern technology, I have pretty much become addicted to American Idol. Our television at home is set to record American Idol so I usually watch it on the weekends. And I like that because I can fast forward through the commercials. Since I am at home this week, I have watched the last two nights live. I started watching the show because I love music. But I kept watching because I love to see people walk out a limb. As you have heard me say before, most folks never know what they can do because they never put themselves in a position to fail. These young folks on American Idol are putting themselves out there every week. And they are growing every week. I get inspired watching them.

Last night Brooke began her song and forgot the lyrics. To keep her wits and remember all the lyrics after having to start over in front of millions of folks might just be the greatest accomplishment I’ve seen yet on that show. It has to be difficult enough to remember all the words to begin with but when you forget the lyrics and have to start over without time to get your breath, the difficultness increases exponentially.

I am very glad she got enough votes to stay on the show. I’m sorry the tattoo woman got voted off but Brooke earned the right to stay. I have a feeling her humanness got her a lot of votes this week.

They will be singing Neil Diamond next week. Whatever you do, don’t tell me who gets voted off. It will be a few days before I get to see it.

I know some are voting for John McCain, some for Ms. Clinton and some for Barry Obama.

Me? I’m voting for Brooke.

Maybe That Would Help

How many of you folks out there remember when you could buy a coke for five cents? Since I worked in my dad’s grocery store I remember it well. In fact I remember when the price of cokes went up to six cents. Yep, you had to put a nickel and a penny in the coke machine to get that cold glass bottled drink. You put the top of the bottle under the little thingamajig to get the lid off. Cokes did not come in a can in those days. And when the “coke in a can” invention came along later you had to have a can opener to open it.

I vividly remember our 100th anniversary at Goddard’s store in Reynolds in 1966. Prices had started escalating by then. During that celebration weekend I spent all day Saturday working in the hotdog stand. We advertised a hotdog and a fountain coke for 15 cents. We didn’t call it a #1 combo like they do these days but we sold a lot of hotdogs and cokes that day. But as I look back now, if we sold 500 of them we would have only taken in $75. And I doubt we sold close to 500.

During those years we got paid $5 per day to work at the store. We had to be there at 8AM and we usually didn’t leave until 8PM. And we worked. We sacked groceries, took them to the cars, sometimes delivered them to the house, swept the floor and did whatever else we were told to do. I also can remember how dejected we were when my dad started taking social security out of checks. Now we worked all day on a Saturday for $4.79. That was depressing.


When I was a few months short of my 16th birthday, I was standing at the front of the store one afternoon when I saw Mrs. Verna Lucas across the street at Mr. Swearingen’s Chevrolet Place buying a new car. It was the summer of 1970. The thing that caught my eye was the fact that she was trading in a perfectly good 1964 push button Plymouth. To make a long story short, I talked my daddy into letting me buy Mrs. Lucas’ low mileage car from Mr. Swearingen. I paid $775 dollars cash for that six year old car and I used my own money that I had earned working at the store.

My first stop after leaving the Chevrolet place that day was across the street at Guy Windham’s Gulf Gas Station. I paid 35 cents a gallon for gas. That means if that car held 18 gallons of gas I would spend only a little more than $6 dollars to fill it up (if it was completely empty). And for that $6, Mr. Guy or Pee Wee would check my oil, check the pressure in my tires and clean my windshield. And Mr. Guy would always look me in the eye and thank me for my business.

I think it would be safe to say things have changed. And not for the better. Yesterday I filled up my car with gas and it cost an amazing $55. Nobody asked me if they could check my oil and nobody seemed to give a rip if I had enough air in my tires. In fact I put my card in the machine at the pump and paid the bill and I am convinced nobody inside even noticed I was there.

I can remember when I could have bought over a thousand ice cold cokes for that. One would think someone would at least say thank you.

Maybe that would help a little.

Time to Cry and Dance

To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under the sun. A time to be born and a time to die; a time to plant and a time to pluck up what is planted; a time to heal and a time to kill… a time to weep and a time to laugh;

A time to cry and a time to dance.

Last weekend right outside of Austin TX was dancin’ time for my friend David Gligor and his daughter Samantha. I did not get to attend the wedding or the party that followed but I would guess the celebration was very appropriately a large one.

But I would also guess it came with a few tears.

David and his wife Debbie lived life to the fullest. They both worked hard to further their careers and both of them enjoyed much success. But they also enjoyed each other. Although they lived in Houston, they spent most of their weekends on Lake Travis outside of Austin.

Not long after they married, David adopted Debbie’s daughter, Samantha. I’m not sure if David or Samantha knew how important their relationship would become. Certainly they had no idea that Debbie’s life would end at such a young age. When Debbie passed away after a short but valiant fight with cancer, Samantha had David to be there for her. And David had Samantha to be there for him. Thankfully they had each other during the most difficult days one can face. To say they bonded would be an understatement.

And I can tell you it was a very high moment in David’s life last weekend to have the honor of escorting his daughter to the marriage altar and to give her hand in marriage.

There is no doubt that Debbie was watching it all and smiling from heaven. And there is also no doubt with Lake Travis as the backdrop, David and Samantha were thinking of her as that wedding took place.

There is a time to cry and a time to dance.

Sometimes it is appropriate and normal to do both.

Good Company

I think I have written here that Friday night is pretty much Taylor night at our house. On most Friday nights she spends the night with her Papa and her Meme. And I sure do look forward to having some Taylor time.

But tonight Taylor ain’t feeling so hot. She has been sick most of the week with an ear infection and has been running fever. As Dr. Whatley used to say, the ear ache is bad company. So I was very glad when her mom and dad took her to the doctor earlier in the week and got her on some medicine.

Us Papas worry about stuff like that.

Taylor is clinging to her Meme tonight. I don’t know what it is but babies like mommy’s and meme’s when they get sick. And babies get special privileges when they get sick.

Like sitting in Meme’s bed with Meme and watching TV.

We might not get a whole lot of sleep tonight but there will be a whole lot of snuggling going on. The ear ache may be bad company.

But Taylor is good company. As good as it gets.

Proud to Be One of Dr. Whatley's Babies

As hopefully all of you know by now I have great memories of growing up in Reynolds, Ga. As I have said thousands of times to thousands of folks in many different places, I wouldn’t take a million dollars for growing up in Reynolds. And I wouldn’t.

The thing that made Reynolds so special to me during my formative years was the people who lived there. I have thoroughly enjoyed writing about some of those folks in my book and also here on this blog. And I’m not done. Not only do I want others to know about the people who made up this special community but I want my kids and someday my grandkids and their grandkids to know and appreciate the people I knew. My purpose is in a way a selfish one. Maybe when they know them, they will know a little more about me. And in knowing more about me, maybe my kids, grandkids and great grandkids will know more about themselves.

One of those folks I have written about and spoken about I suppose in every speech I have ever given is Dr. Ed Whatley. He was not only my doctor but he was my next door neighbor. There is no doubt he was one of the most respected folks that ever lived in Reynolds. Not only did he work all hours of the night tending to the sick in at least two counties, but he was involved in all aspects of the community. And trust me he was loved and is loved by everyone.

On Friday April 25 at 6PM, Dr. Whatley will be honored in the city park in Reynolds to kick off the Georgia Strawberry Festival. And if there has ever been anybody who should be honored in Reynolds it would be him. Dr. Whatley now lives in an assisted living facility in Rome, GA which is about 3 hours away. He and his family will be coming home for this special occasion. I am looking forward to being there and extremely honored to have been asked to take part in the ceremony on that Friday night.

Dr. Whatley delivered about 2,000 babies during his almost 50 years of service to the people of Reynolds and the surrounding communities. On Saturday of the Strawberry Festival, Dr. Whatley will be the Grand Marshall in the parade and they have asked Dr. Whatley’s babies to walk in the parade with him. In fact they are selling “I’m Dr. Whatley’s Baby” tee shirts.

For those who have Reynolds roots, this would be a good weekend to come to Reynolds. If you are one of Dr. Whatley’s babies, it would be a great weekend to come to Reynolds. Or if you just want to meet a great man who spent his entire life serving other folks, this is your chance.

I am looking forward to being in Reynolds as the people of Reynolds honor a man who gave so much to this community. I am also very proud to be one of Dr. Whatley’s babies.

God Has a Sense of Humor

I have been a church going person all my life. It’s just been something we have always done. When I was young my mama would drag us to church – not only on Sunday morning but also Sunday night and Wednesday night. When I got married and started having kids of our own, we took up right where my parents left off. We dragged our kids to church. It wasn’t something we voted on either. It was just what we did.

I sacrificed a lot of major sporting events on Sunday nights over the years for the cause of church. And we couldn’t record the games back then either. I wonder if I will get special rewards for that one day?

I think I have heard every sermon that could possibly be preached. And every Bible lesson that could possibly be taught. I surely don’t mean to insinuate that I know it all. The older I get the more I realize how little I know. But the truth is I’ve heard a lot. More than most folks I'm sure.

Because of all the sermons and all the lessons, I really don’t feel bad at this point in my life if I have to miss a sermon or two, or even a lesson or two every now and then.

For example, I am a major golf fan. Master’s Sunday is a major day for me. I watched replays of the Masters on Thursday and Friday nights on television. And was glued to the television on Saturday afternoon. You can imagine I was ready to watch the final round on Sunday. I watch every shot. I want to hear all the commentary. I’ve been going to the Masters since I was 10 years old and I know the course like the back of my hand. For me it is as exciting as it gets as the leaders go through Amen Corner on Sunday. It just don’t get better than Masters Sunday in Augusta.

If you read this blog, you know we have couples come to our house on Sunday nights for our church home group meeting. They arrive about 5:30PM. Last night I knew that the group would arrive about the same time the leaders of the Masters would arrive at Amen corner. Although there would be several golf fans who would want to watch the Masters as much as I did last night, I set the DVR to record it so we could have our lesson.

When the meeting began last night, even though I was recording it, I just couldn’t make myself turn the big screen plasma TV off. Being the spiritual person I am I muted it though. I figured I could engage in the discussion and keep an eye on the tournament at the same time. I noticed a few other guys were also glad I left it on. I am sure some thought I should turn it off but since it was my house and I am twice their age, nobody said anything.

I was working hard at listening to what everyone was saying, engaging in the discussion and keeping an eye on the golf tournament. Since I have no problem doing such things as sending and receiving emails on a blackberry while driving down the road, I knew I would have no trouble attending “church” and watching the Masters at the same time.

It’s called multi-tasking. But sometimes multi-tasking doesn’t work too well.

Last night just as one of my friends told the others about a friend of his who was just diagnosed with cancer, to the shock of the other 19 or so folks in the room, I jumped up with clenched fist and yelled “YES!"

Wrong thing to yell. And definitely at the wrong time.

I had one eye on the TV and I thought the leader of the tournament had hit a hole in one. I quickly realized it was a replay from several years ago. My wife gave me a dirty look. I probably got many more dirty looks but since I had my head down at that point, I didn’t look to see.

We did finish the meeting and the lesson and after a few minutes everybody was gone. I settled in on the sofa to watch the final few holes of the Masters that I had missed but recorded. And to hear every word of the commentary.

I watched about five minutes and the recording stopped. Through some technical failure, the doggoned thing did not record.

God really has a sense of humor, doesn't He?

I Didn't Ask

In light of our "three couple" recent trip to New York City, I have to share this true story. I will leave the names out to protect the innocent. But you can't help but laugh.

This story has to be true. You couldn’t make this stuff up. Actually this sounds like something that could have happened to us. It definitely could happen to me.

The truth is it could happen to anybody.

Three married couples (who I happen to know) went on a trip together. When they were getting their luggage at the airport at their destination city one of the ladies told her husband she needed to go to the restroom before they took their limo ride into the city. A reasonable request because of the excitement of the trip and the large breakfast they ate earlier in the day that she was not used to eating. But when she realized she had to go back up the escalator to the restroom she did not want to hold everybody up and decided to wait until they got to their hotel.

Although a little queasy in the tummy the lady and her five travel companions all climbed into the back of the stretch limousine for the journey into the city. Everything was going fine until they ran into a major traffic jam. While most everybody was taking the delay in stride, the husband noticed his wife with the queasy tummy was not taking the delay in stride. In fact she was getting that panic look on her face that was screaming, “I’m in trouble!”

After a few minutes, the husband of the now panic stricken wife with the queasy tummy, hit the button to let the window down between the passengers and the driver to find out what was causing the traffic jam. The answer was not encouraging at all. An 18 wheeler had jack-knifed a few miles in front of them. The driver explained to his clients that he had heard on the radio that cranes were being brought in to move the tractor trailer. The husband pushed the button to raise the window back up.

By now the other four travelers knew their friend with the queasy tummy was in trouble. She had now resorted to the techniques of Lamaze breathing. And she had her eye on the sideboard that has the drinking glasses and a well that is normally used for storing ice. In fact all of a sudden she put off all her dignity and went for the ice well. The husband was thinking quickly and pulled a pillow case off a pillow and threw it to one of their friends. She got the pillow case in the ice well just in the nick of time. Two of the guys (including her husband) and one of the ladies got out of the limo as the proceedings began. The other two did not make it out. In fact they never had a chance.

When three of the traveling companions were standing outside the limo which happened to be on an overpass bridge, the limo driver having no idea what was going on in the back of his limo, got out and told them the traffic was finally about to move. The husband of the lady (whose wife was now sitting on the pillow case lined ice well inside in the close company of her other two friends) asked the limo driver if he could ask the crane operators to take their time.

After a few minutes, the proceedings were completed inside the back of the limo. The husband very lovingly placed the pillow case with all its contents on the side of the highway as the limo pulled off.

Not wanting to embarrass the poor lady further, everybody climbed back in the limo and continued their journey into the city without mentioning what had just happened or the odor. And they ended up having a wonderful trip together. I suppose they had gotten pretty close after all that.

I didn’t ask but I wondered if the next group that rode in that limo used the ice well.

Cure Catherine

This will be the first blog I have ever written that includes a Call to Action. But this one will. And I plead with you to read and act.

As many of you know part of the message that has been burned in my soul is about living through trouble. I have written about trouble in my book and I talk about it every time I stand in front of a crowd to speak – which happens to be quite often.

The message is simple. We will all have trouble. It doesn’t matter the color of our skin, our age, our religious affiliation or our income. Life brings us trouble. Sometimes we bring the trouble on ourselves and sometimes it just comes. And trouble comes in many different forms. It can come in the form of such things as heartache, uncertainty, distress, depression, loneliness, financial pressures, hopelessness, separation and physical illness.

The question is NOT if we will have trouble. The question is how we handle the trouble that comes our way. The trouble can hinder us or it can spur us on. The trouble can destroy our faith or cause our faith to increase. Trouble, in other words, can make us or break us.

A few weeks ago Catherine Carswell, a 21 year old college senior from Macon, GA, was planning her wedding. Today she is planning on saving her life.


She is documenting her experience from her diagnosis of breast cancer to the chemo treatment to all the love and support she is receiving from her family and friends. And she is doing it with a sense of humor and a lot of class. And there is no telling how many people her frank and honest communication will touch. I want to help her touch them.

In the meantime, if you are a reader of this blog, there are six things you can do:

1) You can donate to the” Cure Catherine” fund to help defray expenses for this family. An account has been set up at Wachovia Bank, 150 Tom Hill Sr. Blvd, Macon, GA 31210. The account number is 2000034559509.

2) You can purchase a Relay for Life “Cure Catherine” tee shirt for $15. Send me an email at rbgoddard@cox.net and I will get you in touch with the folks who are selling them.

3) You can pray for Catherine Carswell and her family and friends.

4) You can read Catherine’s blog and learn great lessons in handling adversity from a 21 year old girl.

5) You can celebrate with Catherine when all the drama and trauma has passed and she is healed.

6) And as Catherine says, Ladies, PLEASE check your Ta Ta’s.

I’m pleading with you readers out there to join me in helping to “Cure Catherine.” In doing so I have a feeling we will help ourselves as well.

You Might Be Surprised

(Chicago) I had an unusual 45 minutes or so in what I thought would be a normal cab ride last night from O’Hare Airport to a downtown hotel here.

I struck up a conversation with the cab driver. After a few minutes of conversing in our very different dialects, he asked me why I was in town. I told him I was here to speak at a conference. He asked me what subject I spoke about.

So I told him and gave him my view on life and told him a few of my stories from the perspective of a small town undertaker. He was listening and then began asking me questions. And before I knew it he was telling me his life story. The cab driver told me about his mother who only paid attention to him as a kid only when he was in trouble. He explained to me that he did not have good role models when he was growing up. He told me he now had a family of his own and how difficult it is to balance driving a cab and spending time and providing for his family. He said he could not give them all they needed. It was an emotional conversation and amazingly he poured his heart out to this perfect stranger in his cab. And I have to tell you when we pulled up at the hotel last night I hated to get out of the car. I had this thought that I would never see this cab driver with tears in his eyes again. And I’m sure I won’t.

But for 45 minutes I gave him my best shot. And I have no doubt he appreciated the 45 minutes we had. I got the feeling our heartfelt conversation was a bright spot in his day yesterday … and maybe his week or month. And maybe even his life.

A few weeks ago I was on a plane and was talking with a guy sitting next to me. A lady in front of us, who happened to be an anesthesiologist, turned around and joined in the conversation. (This was on the Smothers Brothers flight I wrote about a few weeks ago). I got both their addresses before I left the plane and sent them both one of my books a few days later when I got back home. Last week I got a note from one of my new friends. She told me how much she enjoyed the book and went on to say meeting me and reading my book was a blessing because just before meeting me her fiancé had been killed in a tragic accident.

The point is you never know what the people we meet by chance everyday are going through. But then again maybe the meetings are not by chance. Maybe in the big scheme of things encounters like these are orchestrated. A God who put the stars in the sky and orchestrated the universe could certainly put people in the right place at the right time.

But the truth is we probably miss most of opportunities because it is easier for us to just keep to ourselves and avoid the people who God puts in our path. Or maybe we feel we don’t have anything to offer.

The truth is anybody can offer a word of encouragement. I am convinced people don’t need a lecture or a well intended lesson on living life. They just need a real life story and a listening ear. And everybody has real- life stories they can share that have the potential to touch another person and give hope to someone who has lost theirs.

Keep your eyes and ears open and live by intention. You might be surprised at what you find. And the blessings you get in the process.

Incredible Introduction

Steve Harvey is a well known comedian. Known as the original King of Comedy. He gets paid to make people laugh. I have a feeling you won't laugh at this. Not sure of the messenger here but the message might just cause the hair to stand on the back of your neck.

A Time in My Life

Not everyone reading this will appreciate the Beatles. I was 9 years old going on 16 when they first appeared on the Ed Sullivan show. Beatlemania was here and I had a major case of it. And so did every other kid I knew. The girls went nuts and the guys started trying to look like them and act like them.

Before John, Paul, George and Ringo’s 1964 national television appearance most of the boys had crew cuts. After that show we all started growing our hair out. Most everybody I knew had a Beatle haircut. And many of us tried to learn how to play the guitar. Bands began to pop up in garages all over the United States. The bands consisted of three guitars and a drummer. The name of the band was always proudly displayed on the base drum. Just like the Beatles.

The Beatles, the biggest selling musical group in history, were the first of what would be called the British Invasion. Groups like Herman’s Hermits, The Dave Clark Five, The Rolling Stones, The Monkees, The Who, The Yardbirds and many others followed them. Rock and roll music was here to stay. And I lived it. And I loved it.

I could not think about going to New York City without going to the Dakota building where John Lennon was murdered almost 28 years ago right inside the gate shown behind us in the picture. And the walk over to Central Park to the Strawberry Fields memorial was a walk I had to take. As I stood there I remembered some wonderful times in what seems like another life ago.

I remembered when I was in junior high school coming home on the school bus from an away basketball game when someone told me that Susan Byrd wanted to hold my hand. You can bet your booty I held her hand too. I could not get the words to that famous Beatles song, “I Wanna Hold Your Hand,” out of my head for months. And I still smile when I hear it.

I remembered all the birthday parties I attended at the Reynolds Woman’s Club building when everybody brought a 45 RPM record as a gift to the person having the birthday. The girls would line up on one side of the room – the guys on the other. The 45 RPM records would be put on one by one and the guys would walk across the room and ask a girl to dance. And the next song we would ask another girl to dance.

And the Beatles started it all.

I remembered slow dancing to songs like “Hey Jude” and “Let it Be” when I was in high school. And I remembered when I went to college all the gals and guys at the band parties at the Lambda Chi house going crazy when the band started playing their “Beatles” set.


For the record, I am fully aware the Beatles got weird. Maybe they were always weird. And I certainly did not and do not agree with their social and religious views and much of the other stuff they would eventually represent. But in spite of all their human weaknesses, I simply loved (and still love) their music.

But it was more than the music. As I have said before, I am convinced I was born at exactly the right time in the right place to experience life at its very best. The experience of seeing where John Lennon was murdered and the Strawberry Fields Memorial caused a lump in my throat but brought back a ton of wonderful memories for me.

And a time in my life I will never forget.

Patsy's

There is a reason Patsy’s on W. 56 Street was Frank Sinatra’s favorite restaurant. And there is also a reason why a lot of other celebrities eat there on a regular basis. We figured we would spend at least part of our last night in NYC attempting to find those reasons.


We found at least three reasons - atmosphere, service and wonderful Italian food. And take it from someone who is a connoisseur of good eating – this is as good as it gets.

Patsy’s was founded in 1945 by Pasquale (Patsy) Scognamillo. Patsy was the original chef and there have been only two others in the history of this famous restaurant. Patsy's son Joe (pictured here with my wife)was the second chef. And Sal, who was not there when we were there, is the third chef. Sal is Joe's son - the grandson of Patsy. Sal is known as the Executive Chef of Patsy’s and appears on a regular basis on the morning national TV talk shows in NYC.


Joe treated us like royalty. Not only did he explain to us the history of his restaurant but he told us about his friendship with Frank Sinatra. Joe wears a lapel pin that belonged to Sinatra. But you would have thought we were the celebrities. I got a glimpse of why people rave about the service at this place. The service starts at the top.


And then there was our waiter from Croatia. Branko took his time helping us order so we could taste all the famous delicious dishes. He also gave us a geography lesson about Croatia and even drew a map as to its horseshoe shape located in South – Central Europe. When you feel like a waiter has become your friend when you finish your meal, you can safely say he served you beyond your expectations. Branko also gave us some inside information about some of the celebrities that eat there. We found that some choose to enter the restaurant at the main entrance and eat in the main dining area and some choose to come in a private entrance and eat privately. Branko told us one of his favorite customers is Rush Limbaugh and he told us Rush is a great guy and treats him wonderfully.

As we started to leave, Branko gave each of the ladies a gift bag that included a jar of Patsy’s famous sauce. I suppose he does that for all his customers but we kinda felt like he did it just for us. As we were leaving the restaurant I was surprised at all the other folks eating and enjoying their meal.

Funny thing because Branko had me convinced we were the only ones there.

Making Her Mark

Bruce,

I've read your book & I've read your blogs and it never ceases to amaze me at some of the things you come up with, the way you convey them to your readers and the memories you always seem to bring to my mind with your stories. You have such a gift. I know you've been told this many, many times, but I KNOW you do.

I remember going into the grocery store as I was growing up & seeing your dad there. Aunt Ruth would always give me a nickel to get a candy bar or pack of gum or something & tell me how she sure wished my mama & daddy could get my teeth fixed (I know she meant no harm but I was already self-conscious enough about my teeth). I don't know if your daddy heard her or not but he would always say something to make me smile and then tell me I was just about the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. He made me forget about my crooked teeth. Moreover, he made me feel special; like I was somebody, just for him speaking to me.

I can't recall a time ever seeing you out somewhere that you didn't know who I was & speak to me in the same way your daddy did; just as you did Saturday night. It was good to see you at the reunion. Everyone had a wonderful time. I know I did.

I read your blogs about your granddaughter & I have to tell you I have 2 now; one is 4, the other was just born Jan 14 of this year. The first one took me in tailspin. My family all used to talk about the fact that my children were always my world, my whole life. I didn't think I could love a grandchild any more, and I don't guess I do really but it's different. Sally Kate wrapped me around her little finger from the very first moment after I saw her come into this world. She loves her "gamma" & she knows her gamma loves her. My daughter allowed me the privilege of witnessing the miracle of birth once again when Leah graced our lives in Jan. I have to say it was the most awesome thing I've ever had the privilege to be a part of. There's nothing like grandchildren! God has blessed us with two of the most beautiful little girls He possibly could. I understand perfectly the message you were trying to convey in your blog about your Taylor. I know I don't have to tell you this, but spend every moment you can with her. Love her. Know her, and let her know you. Let her learn what an awesome grandpa she has in that he has served God, his family and his friends all his life.

I have pancreatic cancer, diagnosed about a year and a half ago. Although I have already lived much, much longer than any of the doctors in Macon, Emory & Texas said I would, I know my days are numbered. I keep fighting and I keep telling myself I'm going to beat it. Everyday when I wake up I thank God for letting me have another day with my family, especially my granddaughters. You have an incredible chance for your granddaughter to know you. Don't waste it.

You have done so well with your life. I know your mama and daddy are so proud of you. You are leaving your mark on the world with your stories. You're touching so many lives. I have not left a mark and now it's too late. Unfortunately, my granddaughters are so young that they will only know me through pictures in the family album and what their mama tells them about me.

Keep up your good work and take care. May God continue to bathe you in His love and care.

Lisa Nelson Windham


Note: The letter above written to me was posted on this blog in May 2007 with permission from Lisa Windham. Lisa passed away this week (Sunday March 30,2008) after a gallant fight with pancreatic cancer. Regretfully I learned of her death after her funeral service. As a memorial to Lisa who thought she had not left her mark on the world I thought it important to let her elegant words and wisdom flow from this page once again. May neither the words nor the memory of my friend Lisa never die. BG

An Incredible Story

The video below is one of the most inspiring pieces I've ever seen. You will be inspired by the good people can do and you will be proud to be an American. Warning: Better have some tissues handy.

What Happens in NYC Stays in NYC

I suppose when most folks go to New York City they go bar hopping and drink way too much. Some go dessert hopping and eat way too much.

We did the latter.

It seems at least a couple times a day during our visit to NYC we found ourselves sitting in a little Deli or a quaint little restaurant and smiling at the menu and smiling at the desserts already sitting on the tables of other patrons.

I mentioned yesterday that New York was blog heaven. It is also dessert heaven.


From the best cheesecake I have ever put in my mouth to scrumptious desserts with sensual names such as Forbidden Broadway Sundae, Can’t Say No Sundae and Strawberry Fields Sundae – you can hurt yourself just trying to decide what to order.

But I don’t think any of us gained weight on our trip – in spite of all the dessert eating. We walked it off. In fact we walked so much that I seriously considered paying a Chinaman to rub my feet while the ladies were negotiating for purses. But being the heterosexual I am, I backed out for lack of enough good information about that particular foot parlor. I just wanted a foot rub. I wasn’t interested in a relationship.


If you decide to take a trip to NYC and go “dessert hopping”, take this advice from this dessert eating fool. Make sure you try the New York Cheesecake at Carnegie Deli. It is huge and will make you want to slap your grandma for sure. The cheesecake right up the street at Stage Deli ain’t bad either. La bella Ferrara in Little Italy on Mulberry has an incredible Chocolate Mousse Tart and is known all over the world. I think we tried about 5 different desserts at Serendipity. I vote for the “Can’t Say No Sundae” as the best of the best. But the “Forbidden Broadway” thing looked pretty sexy as well.


Please don’t tell anybody that I stopped at a little store on the way back to our apartment late one night and bought a pint of chocolate ice cream. That would really be embarrassing if people found that out.

What happens in New York City stays in New York City.

Blog Heaven

After four full days exploring the Big Apple with my wife and a couple of brothers in law and sisters in law, I am writing this in the air at 11PM after a very long flight delayed day in the Newark NJ airport. The flight delay was seven hours to be exact. If you add the couple of hours we got there ahead of our original flight time today, you will notice were sitting in an airport for nine hours.

But the horrendous today will not and could not take anything away from the unforgettable time we had in New York City the past five days. Although I cannot tell you ALL our experiences (some things that happen in NYC stay in NYC), I will in the next few blogs tell you about some interesting sites and people we met in the melting pot of the world.

For starters, being the undertaker I am, all six of us stayed in an apartment on top of a friendly New York City funeral home. No fancy hotels for this crowd. Although staying at a funeral home did not bother me at all, I probably should not speak for the others. But at least they pretended it did not bother them either. But just think of the money we saved.

In the next few blogs you will read about the best bagels NYC has to offer and a little diner on Second Avenue that makes the best French toast you have ever put in your mouth. The waiters were not particularly friendly but the food more than made up for it. You will read about rookies trying to figure out the NYC subway system. You may read about the freezing open air sightseeing tour we took of the city from top to bottom and the craziest tour guide you could ever imagine. There will be a photo of the place where John Lennon was shot down in cold blood almost 28 years ago and the building where Jackie Kennedy Onassis lived and died. You will see pictures of wonderful, unbelievable, inconceivable desserts from places like Carnegie Deli, Serendipity and Cafe La bella Ferrara in Little Italy. You will be taken inside one of the famous NYC pizza places. You will learn a little history of one of the most famous Italian restaurants in the city where all the stars eat and have their private entrance. You will meet the most incredible waiter from Croatia, and even hear from and see a photo I took of the owner, who happened to be a close friend of Frank Sinatra.

You will learn about illegal back room bargaining for pocket books in China Town and I will show you pictures of the (many) designer purses my wife purchased for next to nothing. I learned she is one of best negotiators I’ve ever seen.

And then you will learn about how to get in (and on) the David Letterman Show and you will see some pictures of some famous folks we met (or sorta met) who were guests on the show. And you will also learn that we somehow squeezed a couple of Broadway plays in our less that tight schedule.

We definitely had a great time in New York City. And you will be fortunate enough (or unfortunate enough) to read about it here. NYC is the Big Apple, the Melting Pot and is definitley the "city that never sleeps."

It is also Blog Heaven.