My stack of scribbled notes is shorter, but still has a precarious tilt. I’ve grown a bit weary of sifting through papers, but recently found fresh motivation. We’ll get to that later.

I kept a sample letter of a common scam – trying to buy land for less than it’s worth. Legitimate buyers sometimes make unsolicited offers at decent prices. There are, however, countless solicitations which are far below market value.

Gazillions of unscrupulous proposals are made, knowing a few recipients will take the bait. Financial predators don’t mind taking advantage of people who can be manipulated. They also exploit very capable people who get careless. So be careful. If you’re leaning toward making a quick decision, it’s usually best to slow down.  

Another scribbled note contained several questions I had been pondering. Can a dog have a cat scan? Can a cat be dog-eared? Is a doggone cat gone because of the dog? It’s hard to sleep while searching for answers.

A newspaper clipping had a picture of Sonny and SuSu Burt announcing the sale of Daphne Lodge. I intended to write a story about them but never got around to it. Besides the excellent food and charming atmosphere, the lovely couple made customers feel like family. Like the bar on Cheers, it was a place where everybody knows your name.

One slip of paper had a potential column title, “Shadow Finds a Home.” My mother’s yard dog is 93 pounds of affection. He’s too friendly to be a protector but will knock you down if you’re carrying food. Here’s some background on that unwritten column. 

Shadow is the last survivor of three similar-looking stray dogs that found their way to my mother’s rural home. His ribs were showing when he came and he was afraid of people, as were Spot and Spottie before him. All three dogs, in different years, were apparently dropped off at the wet-weather creek near Mama’s home. Three strays went looking for mercy and found it. Perhaps there’s a lesson in their stories.

I’ve finished reviewing notes through 2022 and just got to one from October 3, 2021. Shannon Akin shared this high-school remembrance in our men’s Sunday School Class that Sunday. I know the date because I scribbled it on a church bulletin. It was about Mr. Hubert Yow, who taught agriculture at Vienna High School for decades.

Mr.Yow loved orange juice and kept some in a refrigerator in the ag building. Someone, however, began discretely depleting his supply. Mr. Yow spiked the juice with syrup of ipecac, a product used years ago to induce vomiting when a person swallowed poison. The mystery was solved, and Allen Cross lost his taste for orange juice.   

“Life Expectancy Plummets in U.S.” That newspaper article from September of 2021 included the 2020 chart. Men were pegged at an average of 74.5 years. I’m a bit weary of sifting through scribbled notes, but those statistics gave me new motivation. Rather than taking a break, maybe I should write a little faster. 

I’m hoping to be above average, but either way will be okay. An unwritten column, “Shadow Finds a Home,” just reminded me of three stray dogs who went looking for mercy and found it. Their good fortune probably involved some luck, but man has a sure thing if we claim it. It may not be on our terms or timetable, but mercy is ours for the asking.