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By Jim Whitt My friend John Teeter shared a story with me that is appropriate as we celebrate Flag Day: “When I was 23 years old I worked in the parts department at Teeter Irrigation. It was a hot summer day when R.D. Floyd, one of our longtime customers, walked into the store. This was not unusual as R.D. came in frequently to pick up parts. What was unusual was that he was carrying a tattered and torn American flag — the flag, which until a few minutes earlier, flew outside our store. R.D. was a man of few words… Read More
By Jim Whitt After picking up the mail Charlie Mitchell and I were on our way out of the Post Office when a man pointed to Charlie and asked, “Is that a service dog?” Before I could answer he added, “If he’s not you can’t bring him in here. I might get sued.” “Are you the postmaster here?” I asked. “No, I’m the station manager,” he replied. I stuck out my hand and said, “My name is Jim Whitt.” He reluctantly took my hand with a limp grip but didn’t offer his name in return. “I’ve done a lot of… Read More
By Jim Whitt There’s a story of a man who wished for a world where people wouldn’t have to struggle. It was unfair, he believed, that for all the progress humanity had made throughout history that so much of the world’s population still struggled just to survive. He roamed the world searching for the solution and while traveling in the Middle East encountered a beggar in the streets. He was not an ordinary beggar, however. He knew what the traveler was searching for — the perfect place. The man followed the beggar who led him through darkened streets to an… Read More
By Jim Whitt The following story about Doc Lunsford was published on December 23, 1991. It remains one of my favorites. So much so that I decided to make it a tradition and share it with our subscribers each Christmas. At a time when Christmas seems to have lost much of its meaning in our hectic lives, it is my sincere desire that this story about Doc would remind us of what we are truly celebrating. Have a Merry Christmas and a Purposeful 2018. We called him “Doc” – Doc Lunsford. I never knew how he came by the nickname… Read More
By Jim Whitt There was one summertime activity that dominated all others growing up in my little hometown of Shidler, Oklahoma — baseball. And no one loved baseball more than my father. It would be hard to count the boys who grew up playing on teams he coached. The first league he coached in that I can remember consisted of two teams — the Mules and the Frogs. As I recall, my brother Marc played for the Mules. A few years later Dad coached the town team Marc played for and I was the batboy. The team won their league… Read More