In the 1960's and 70's my mother and her best friend Anne Brunson would make watermelon pickles. It was a several day labor intensive process but the end result was worth it. Our family never had a Thanksgiving or Christmas without Watermelon Pickles (yes, capitalized...these pickles are that important) accompanying the meal. And everyone in our family loved them and we all still do. In the late 70s they stopped making the pickles because watermelon rinds became thinner, which was the one thing in the world my mother didn't want to get thinner. Doesn't it always work out that way? Evidently, thinner rinds are what people want for the watermelon fruit but of course those didn't make great pickles. They stopped making homemade Watermelon Pickle and we started buying them at Deans Farm and the hardware store. Those are OK...actually, they're very good....but we longed for the homemade pickles that our mother and Anne made from their old recipe.  ..

OK, I do look like Winston Churchill as a baby. Damn. So maybe it's time to eat a little crow. I'm sorry, Mother, you were right. Now, do you feel better because I sure as hell don't. Note to self: It's probably best not to leave any photographic evidence behind if your baby is a little homely. There's a chance he could grow out of it. PS-If this is the best picture they had what did the bad ones look like?! ..

A long time ago, in a world far, far away (OK, at Atlantic Beach, a few weeks ago) Susan and I had the pleasure of hosting one of the star guests for Anna Wooten Gauss and Randall Loggin's wedding. When I first saw her, I was stunned by her classic beauty and her timeless style. She was a member of Randall's family and a star of the wedding party and she was familiar to me (and you're thinking oh my God here we go again) but no one else in the wedding party knew her. In fact she was from South Georgia but she was familiar in a different, non-familial way.  ..

I love you. It's so simple to say which is why Susan and I say it to each other and to our children, grandchildren and family each and every day. It lets them know they always have our unconditional love and support no matter what. Always. Period. We're even starting to say it to close friends. At first it feels kind of awkward with friends but then if feels good. Try it. You'll like it.  ..

"These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and full of love for you, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as you promise to love each other today, tomorrow, and forever.  ..

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To explain who I am you may want to start with the old beach cottage at 511 Ocean Ridge Drive at Atlantic Beach, North Carolina. It was built by my great grandfather, Furman Nuriah Bridgers in 1950. Here is a picture of the cottage and it was bought by my grandfather, Tom, who we called "Big Tom", from his father's estate in 1956 for $15,500. He must have had regrets about making such a large purchase because among his personal belongs I found after his death, there was an agreement dated in 1957 to list the cottage for sale at $16,900. Thankfully, there weren't any interested buyers or he had sellers remorse because the house stayed in the family for many more years.  ..

It's probably obvious to those of you who know me that I may have the biggest damn head God ever put on a human being. I hate to put this fact out there in case you've missed it but you probably haven't because, well, it's kinda obvious. Some men have great looking football shaped heads. They're lucky. Others have nice baseball shaped noggins and that's great. Me-I have a head like a bowling ball. Extra large. Heavy. It's very pedestrian and commonly found in places where there are smelly red, white and blue rental shoes, stale beer, painted cinder block walls and bad food. Yep-bowling alleys. There's where you'll commonly see men with my kind of head. But that's not really me (I hope). My head doesn't fit me. Damn. What does one do when their head doesn't fit their image of themselves?  ..

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