The Hillbilly Philosopher

Please take a moment to visit my donar page for St. Baldric's, and if you can help me raise money to fight cancer in infants, children and young adults. The HP's St. Baldric's Page www.StBaldricks.org • 888.899.BALD Where the Money Goes Funding • The Foundation has committed more than $56.9 million to life-saving research since 2005. • St. Baldrick’s donors and volunteers made possible more than $14 million in funding for childhood cancer research in 2010. • A total of 106 grant awards are currently being funded. • In addition to funding the research of pediatric cancer experts, St. Baldrick’s also helps make it possible for the best and brightest young doctors to pursue childhood cancer research. • The Foundation funds local institutions as well as cooperative research on a national scale to help doctors work together to develop the best treatments for all children with cancer. Grant Review Process Applications from childhood cancer researchers are reviewed and rated by th

OK, I have had a lot on my mind lately, and I have held my tongue, or rather have held my hands off of the keyboard. See, what is rattling in my head like a loose marble is one of those subjects that I would rather shy away from. I don't want to write about it, because I do not want to hurt others. My writing is supposed to be a therapy for me, and if it entertains others then it is a bonus. But never is it supposed to hurt anyone. That is not my style. I am trying to be a better person - and the writing help me with that as a vent. Sure, I am a bit of an attention whore - more folks I know who are creative are, weather they admit or even realize it or not. But this thing just will not go away. So, in rough, free flowing form, in an attempt to settle my psyche and maybe clear my mind, here is my current conflicting thoughts; it may get disjointed - I'm flying by the seat of my pants here. Ah, one more warning and / or disclaimer. This is about religion. It is not an attack on a

*** From The HP - This was posted during "week 9" of the A Picture Is Worth 1000 Words project. It references a picture YOU CAN FIND LINKED HERE. Let’s talk a moment, you and me. This web site, A Picture Worth 1000 Words, has been a great deal of fun for me. I have always enjoyed writing quick little one off pieces, as they suit my style of just tossing out some words with little or no research needed, and that kind of writing is a special kind of therapy for me. I am the first and loudest critic I have, and admit most of what I write is not going to be pressed into textbooks a hundred years from now – I do not paint literary masterpieces to hang up in a gallery of significant prose, rather cave drawings that the fire smoke will eventually obliterate. I have to admit it is kind of daunting once in a while – a picture may make me feel one way , but I want to keep that feeling to myself, so I go another. This image above is a great example. This image makes me sad, for some r

*** Note from Hannable - This is one of the A Picture Is Worth 1000 words essays. In it I reference directly the picture used that week for inspiration. You can find a link to it HERE. Also, this piece was edited and submitted to the Central Carolina Community College Red Brick Review for consideration for use in their Spring 2011 edition. Like the roadside fruit stands of my youth, the small family owned tackle shops are all fading away, or more so have become shells of dreams that stand watch over highways and river banks. You find them often, likes the ones in the photo above, with weathered siding and faded signs, hanging over an OPEN sign that someone forgot to take down years ago, forever lying to any who can plainly see that they are CLOSED, have been for a long time, and likely forever will remain so. There used to be magic in these little shops – rows upon rows of shiny lacquered cane poles, bins of weights from those so light you did not know why anyone would bother up to lar