I am writin’ this ‘cause our English teacher wrote in big letters on the main screen at school:
Our teacher—big bad Billy Joe Wyatt—stood up at his desk an’ pointed at the screen. “That’s your assignment during the Teacher’s Convention break this week. I want you blog something. The topic for your blog is wide open; just remember to stay focused and keep it brief, because you want to keep your reader’s attention, and attract more readers to your blog. That’s it for today. Have a safe break!”
On the school bus, I was thinkin’ about what I should write about all the way home. Kids were runnin’ their mouths, talkin’ all loud around me, excited for the long weekend. I guess I was a wee bit worried, ‘cause I’m not a writer at heart, an’ I was clueless what to write about. “What is a blog?” I asked myself, an’ pondered it for a few moments.
Then I overheard a girl nearby say to another girl, “Blah-blah-blah, that’s all math is to me. Blah-blah-blah!”
“That’s it!” I said to myself. I’ll name my school blog, blah-loggin’...
So, here it goes. This is TimBob’s Blah-Blah-Blah Log, a.k.a TimBob’s Blog.
The whole time I was growin’ up, Maw and Paw taught me to be respectful. Be respectful to adults; be respectful to those in authority, like police officers, teachers—even be respectful to the grocery store owner, who by the way, helped me get a job baggin’ groceries, when I just a little bugger.
I’m still workin’ there, thank the Lord, ‘cause most of my friends are unemployed.
Anywho, one day in the middle of the summer I was playin’ at the park with my friend Jimmy an’ there was a man sleepin’ on a bench nearby. The man didn’t look too good. He was all smelly an’ had long greasy silver and black hair and a beard to match. Jimmy wanted to wake him up. I tried to stop him.
“Jimmy, don’t go messin’ with him—leave that man alone.”
“Nahhh, he ain’t gonna do nothin’. Watch!”
So, Jimmy went over an’ poked the man in the ribs. “Time to get up; time to get up for school!”
The poor feller grumbled a little. Jimmy did it again. This time the smelly man roared an’ stood up as if to chase Jimmy. Jimmy was a big chicken, an’ ran like a banshee all the way home.
I jus’ stood there, in shock.
“Whatcha still doin’ here? Git… git away from me, now!”
Somethin’ deep inside told me I should stay. I jus’ looked at him an’ curiously cocked my head. “What’s yer name?”
The man wouldn’t look me in the eye. “Mah name is Sammy.”
“My name is TimBob.” I reached out my hand but he didn’t shake it. “I live real close to here.”
“Well, me too.”
“So, you live down the street, or…?”
“I live here… Right here on this ol’ bench.”
That news made me think. “Are ya hungry?”
“I reckon I am… Yeah, I’m very hungry.”
The more respect I showed Sammy, the more he opened up to me.
“Here Mr. Sammy, please take this.” I offered him my lunch.
“What? Oh, no, son, I couldn’t take yer food, now. Your Momma prob’ly made that special jus’ fer you.”
“Oh, no sir, I insist. I don’t need it all that much. Go ahead.”
Sammy wolfed that food down like he hadn’t eaten in about a week. As he ate, I heard two birds singin’ to each other nearby.
“Mr. Sammy, sir, can I visit you again tomorra?”
“Well, I ain’t goin’ nowhere… haha… sure, stop on by.”
For the next few weeks, I visited my new friend Mr. Sammy almost every day. I gave him food an’ we talked about everythin’ from baseball to church. Even Jimmy came with me after awhile an’ we all became friends.
Finally one Saturday I got the nerve to ask, “Mr. Sammy, sir?”
“We would love it if you came out to church with us as our special guest.”
“Yeah, it’d be fun!” Jimmy joined in.
“Well, I dunno ‘bout all that. I ain’t quite dressed fer it, an’ all.”
“Awww…..come on. My Paw said he will give ya some more clothes.”
Mr. Sammy thought for a minute. “Okay, why not?”
The next day was a glorious Sunday when Mr. Sammy was baptized.
More on that in my next Blah-Blah-Blah Log.
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