There is a song that came out in 1991 by Country music star Garth Brooks. The song, entitled The River, equates life to a flowing river, ever changing and always moving.
At the Rocky Mound church in April 1894, Rev. Tom Gary and Rev. Ben Peppers apparently disagreed on some deep subject, for the Gazette states that they “are accused of waging an ungodly warfare with deadly weapons.”
A bird pooped on my shirt last Friday while I was taking the dog out for her morning walk. I should have been able to come up with an insightful cosmic connection between the disgusting incident and the path humanity seems destined to follow regardless of the consequences, but alas, I’m not an intellectual. And sometimes poop is just poop.
The steady sound of the engine was soothing to my uneasy mind. The dark of night was lit with stars and the occasional flash of the headlights beaming the road signs going past. I rested my head on the window as I tested my strength against the confining laces of the straight jacket. The Thorazine shots were holding me from fighting yet loosening its grip on my mind, somewhat. I tried to verbalize with the two deputies from the sheriff ’s department. They had little interest in what I was saying. This infuriated me and I let them know about it for a little while, verbally berating them for a mile or two.
When I started my property management business (Efurd Properties LLC) back in 2005, I did not go into it without resistance. Having already been diagnosed and labeled with bipolar disorder in 1977, anything that I did would be scrutinized by those close to me. I get it. Quitting a perfectly stable job to start a business at the age of 52 could seem impulsive.
