Wilson Post Blogs

By BECKY ANDREWS
Wilson Living Magazine

My children have very different personalities. The oldest is kind, considerate, extremely unorganized and forgiving to a fault. Some of these traits he inherited from his mama. The youngest is cautious, focused, type A and if he’s wronged, he holds a grudge.

Proof of this was when he played baseball a couple of years ago.  A little boy from an opposing team ran on the field.  My child turned to me and said, “That’s the boy who took the ball away from me when I played soccer!”

He then walked past the kid, stared him down and gave him the universal sign for, “I’m watching you.”

This may not seem like a big deal ifJacksonwasn’t referring to the one season he played soccer when he was 3!

He inherited these traits, especially the grudge thing, from his dad. My husband still talks about a friend from elementary school who tore his Bo Derek poster, and even though he hasn’t seen this person in more than 30 years he insists that kid should be punished.

We got our shad below the dam with a cast net. About 15, was all we could keep alive and we carried them up the hill in 5-gallon buckets

That is comparable to running three marathons back to back.  We were young and strong then. The ideal shad was about five inches long and we hooked them through the lips.  The rig was a ½-ounce egg sinker above a swivel. The shad was on 18-inches of line below that.

I don’t know about you, but this year’s opening week of college football is the most exciting I can remember.

In the SEC alone, there are a handful of games that will serve as trendsetters for the rest of the season.

Locally you have Vanderbilt hosting No. 9 ranked South Carolina at a Vanderbilt Stadium. The stadium has undergone the most off-season improvements since the early 1980s when Maryland opened the Commodores home schedule. It was an electric night capped by a Vanderbilt win.

Tonight you will see new lights. A state of the art scoreboard. New field turf. It won’t take fans long to notice.

ESPN is televising the 6 p.m. start tonight. A blimp will be hovering overhead.

South Carolina has designs on winning the SEC East. A loss to Vanderbilt tonight will toss the Gamecocks out of the hen house.

Friday night in the Georgia Dome, Tennessee takes on ACC member N.C. State.

Play audio file above to hear the call of the Northern Flicker

Wilson County Fair time is here and if things keep going like this past Saturday night, it could be another record breaker. I did get a booth this year and found out about it Friday night through an e-mail from Zack Owensby. Talk about cutting it close, it was more like a shave, as to getting things set up in time for yesterday's crowd to come through. If you have the time, come by and talk to me at The Wilson Post booth located in tent #1and I will put your picture in our award-winning newspaper.

My first birdfriend at the fair was W.T. Nolen who was working the Immanuel Baptist Church booth. W.T was telling me about his Bob-white Quail covey that came out of his garden in his back yard. Bob-whites are getting pushed farther and farther out with all the people moving out into the country. Old farms are being bought where they are being made into subdivisions that take the wild factor out of the area. Mr. Nolen is also an avid beekeeper with several hives at his home place and also mentoring several students at the Wilson Central High School in the field of beekeeping.

By ANGEL KANE
Wilson Living Magazine

If you were to look in Webster’s Dictionary for the definition of the word despondent you would find the following:

Des-pon-dent (adjective) - a feeling or showing of extreme discouragement, dejection or depression.

If you were to look even closer, under the word, you would also find a picture of Brody.

It started innocently on Monday morning when we were all rushing out the door to work and school. And we heard him call out, “Has anybody seen my phone?”

“It turned white overnight.”

Those were the first words I heard that early September morning. I lay back on my cot in the tent and pondered just what Paul Brown meant. Then I studied the sagging roof of the tent and knew exactly what he meant. It had snowed. We had scouted hard yesterday and found plenty of elk sign. Now, I knew it did not mean a thing.

I swung my aching, aging legs over the side of the cot and sat up. At 58, the climbing we had done yesterday had reminded me I was no longer 25 and bulletproof. Even though we had been able to drive the truck to the tent camp, yesterday involved plenty of up and down walking. Snow was not good, aching legs or not. Snow would move the elk down and we were up. Our tent camp was at 10,500 feet and smack in the middle of elk country. But that was yesterday and yesterday was gone.

The storm had blown in overnight, dropping about four inches of the lovely (cussed) white stuff. Today we would have to hunt down and across a wide valley to get into the no snow country where the elk had surely gone.  First, we had to make sure that was what happened.

Breakfast over, such as it was, we slung packs and bows and started out in the dark. At daylight, we cast bugles in all directions. Not a sound. Yesterday, the Colorado Rockies had been golden and green with the just changing aspen leaves and elk had been on ever knob and in every meadow. Today, we figured they were below and across from us, feeding in the patches of oak brush and browsing on the open side hills. No way to drive to them. No horses to ride to them. Time to go footback, down, across and up. Sheesh!

In an hour, we were still in the snow but it was not as deep, mostly just a heavy dusting. We had not shed much clothing. It was still in the 20’s even down that far. We stopped on a rocky out cropping and Paul set up the spotting scope. I get nauseous when I use one, so I just started working open areas with my 10X Binoculars. We picked the open slopes to pieces where we had expected to find elk. No elk. None.

From far below us but on the same mountain, a bugle floated in on the rising thermals. Faint, just a whisper but definitely a bugle. We quickly got back in the snow-covered aspens. I pointed where I thought it came from and we discussed strategy. We both thought the elk would move up and stop short of the snow. How far up we did not know. Then it came again, closer and followed by a lot of chuckles. Time to pick up the pace and get under the snow.

Thirty minutes later panting like a dog in hot weather, we broke out above a beautiful lake. It was a mirror in the mountains with aspens standing snow free on the far side. It was time to take another break and see if we could coax another bugle. Paul bugled and I cow called and broke some branches. When you are elk hunting, sometimes you have to make noise. Elk are not quiet animals. Bang! Pow! A bull bugled behind us and another fired off in front of us. We were between two bulls. It does not get any better than that.

I took the bull in front of us and began trotting and sliding around the lake. There was a fresh trail muddied with dozens of tracks. Once on the far side of the lake, I set up. In a grove of aspens on a sight rise, I picked my spot and went to work. With each cow call, the bulls answered and challenged each other. The air was ringing with bugles.

Mine was coming in and coming fast. Then, I heard an elk running on the far side of the lake and he was tearing up anything in his way. My first thought was that Paul had stuck him.

Then, I did not have time to think. I had a bull 25-yards to my left, coming at a trot. When he hit a small opening, he ran right into my sight pin and I let the arrow go. Time to rendezvous.

I had blood, plenty of it on the ground and on the trees. Paul had hit a branch and the arrow slid over his bull’s back, just smacking him with the shaft. We started trailing my bull. I felt sure the shot was good but the trail kept going. An hour later and a whole lot closer to camp, we found him, piled up in the aspens. The shot was perfect. He was just a tough animal.

Time to go to work. We shed another layer of clothing and went at it. With two of us skinning and quartering, it didn’t take long to get him naked and on the pack frames. The snow was gone but for some reason, the mountain seemed a lot steeper than it had yesterday. Two trips and we had everything back at camp.

Dinner that night was elk fillet mignon with macaroni and cheese and green beans. Under the front seat of the truck, Paul found a nearly full bottle of Wild Turkey and we toasted our success. The next day, as I cut and wrapped elk meat, Paul killed a fat cow and the hunt was over.

Back at the main camp, Carl, the owner, asked us where we found the bulls. The answer was short. “Under the snow”.

Contact JOHN L. SLOAN / This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

This is a special time of the year.

Football is in the air and Friday night, Lebanon High christens its new football stadium against Franklin County.

The Blue Devils would rather forget Week Zero (I will never understand that math) against state powerhouse, Mt. Juliet.

There is nothing like the first game in a brand new stadium. The popcorn tastes better. The band has some extra pep in its step. It’s a great spot to run into friends you haven’t seen this summer.

The new Lebanon High School has a lot of similar features that Mt. Juliet used when it built its new school. If only the Blue Devils football program could become as competitive as Mt. Juliet’s.

Football isn’t the only thing to get excited about around Middle Tennessee.

Goodlettsville’s Little League team is undefeated in the Little League World Series, the first time since 1974 an area team won its first two games in the event. Their next game is Thursday against Texas, also winners of its first two games.

Vanderbilt baseball coach Tim Corbin attended Sunday’s game against California and it was as good a game as you can find. Goodlettsville had to rally to take a 9-6 decision.

Corbin said the atmosphere surrounding the Little League World Series is similar in a lot of ways to the College World Series.

He also said if you are a baseball fan, the Little League World Series should to be on your bucket list. I would agree.

I remember how important playing Little League baseball was when I was that age. Every time it looked as if that day’s game was going to be rained out, I watched the sky closer than any certified meteorologist ever did.

If it was rained out, my whole day was ruined. I had to wait another week to play a game.

We never got to Williamsport. We did travel 15 miles or so to Erwin to play their All-Stars. My buddy Johnny Leach hit a home run as a train was passing just beyond the outfield fence. Spectators claimed the ball landed in one of the coal cars and I always contended it was the longest home run hit in Little League history. Think about it. He hit a ball from Erwin to Kansas City, or wherever that car came to rest.

Moving to Hendersonville, Steven Fox captured the U.S. Amateur crown at Cherry Hills CC in Colorado Sunday, winning a 36-hole match-play marathon that required an extra hole before engravers were cleared to put Fox’s name on the Havemeyer trophy.

It didn’t come easy for Fox, a senior at Chattanooga. He was the No. 35 seed in the 36-man field and dodged a number of bullets to reach the finals. He becomes only the second player in history to win from that position.

Down two holes with two to play, it looked bleak for Fox. But he would record back-to-back birdies to catch Cal’s Michael Weaver. Weaver could have closed Fox out with a 5-foot birdie putt on No. 18. It appeared to be destined for the cup, but it spun out.

Even Fox gasped when the putt failed to drop. He finished Weaver off on the playoff hole with yet another birdie putt.

So Middle Tennesseans have had a lot to cheer about. And we still have a full football season ahead of us. 

Contact Sports Columnist Joe Biddle at  This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it .

We were a little late getting to the dock because we had to stop in Hendersonville for donuts and chocolate milk. It didn’t matter. The fish were waiting.

I can still hear her first squeal, “I got one daddy, I got one.” Her blonde ponytail bobbed and she almost reeled the fish right through the end of the rod.

With baseball season on the wane, it’s time to get interested in a little football here in Wilson County. Before you know it, the nights will get a little cooler and the stadium lights will shine brightly, inducing flying insects to bathe in the bright glow of the artificial sunshine. That is the time for one of the members of the Goatsucker family to take flight, almost like the saying, "strike while the iron is hot." Dinner is in the air, just waiting to be eaten.

By BECKY ANDREWS
Wilson Living Magazine

I’ve been cheating on Angel. And by cheating, I mean working on call for a Nashville news station. From the beginning, she thought it was a bad idea.

“Where is the station?”

“Nashville.”

“As in Davidson County? Can you work from home?”

“No. I can’t work from home. It’ll be okay. I’ll train and if I can’t break away from work here, I don’t have to go in.”

When the training started, so did the complaining...from my husband and Angel. For two people who don’t like to text, I received more typed messages from them than that of two 13-year-olds.

With each passing Major golf tournament, the odds of Tiger Woods passing Jack Nicklaus as the all-time leader in Major championships grow longer.

This is not the Tiger that once had the PGA Tour by the tail.

This is not the Tiger Woods that, when he showed up at a Major, everyone in the field didn’t think they were playing for second. They knew it.

Woods has been possessed with becoming the all-time leader in winning Major tournaments.

There are only four a year – the Masters, U.S. and British Opens and the PGA Championship.

This year, Woods failed to register a single round under par on weekend rounds in all four Majors.

There was a lump of chicken fried steak, mashed potatoes and turnip greens sitting in the bottom of my stomach. It felt as though it weighed more than the bass on the end of my line. I had eaten less than 30 minutes ago. It was just exactly 100 degrees in the front of Bubba Chandler’s, deep breathing boat. Unfortunately, that is where I was standing.

By ANGEL KANE
Wilson Living Magazine

If you are a religious person, then you’ve probably heard of Hell.

All religions have their version of this place and all cultures describe it a little differently. But at its core, Hell is the most horrible place one can imagine. It’s hot, suffocating, filled to capacity and in this horror you will anguish for eternity.

In other words, Hell is our local DMV.

That’s right, who would have ever imagined, this place we’ve all read about and studied is located right here amongst us? But I kid you not, take a left off 231 South onto Maddox Simpson Parkway and you’ve arrived.

So we got there around 11:30.

By JOE BIDDLE

To this point, I must admit the London Olympic Games have been most enjoyable to watch.

I can’t remember a recent Olympics that had as many unusual human-interest stories as this one.

Seriously, does it get any better than having a legally blind archer set a world record in the men’s individual archery ranking round?

That’s exactly what Im Dong-Hyun did, despite the fact he can’t read a newspaper at arms length and he can only see blurred colors and lines at the target 76 yards away. He cannot see anything out of his right eye.

Then there is the Blade Runner, 25-year-old South African double amputee Oscar Pistorius, who runs on a set of carbon blades.

Pistorius had both legs below his knees amputated, but he qualified for the 400-meter semifinals, an incredible accomplishment by any measure. He will compete in South Africa’s 4x400-meter relay team Thursday.

What a storm we had this past week with damaging winds tearing up trees and breaking flower pots at my next door neighbor’s house. The lightning woke me up out of a sound sleep just before 2 a.m. I kept waiting for the rain to start and then it started with a mighty wind coming out of the north. Many trees were blown down on my street and two trees were down at my neighbor across the street, at the Boyd's residence. Scary night and even more as Dotty Kim and family stopped by to see if there was anything tore up at my place. Two large limbs had fell from the h­­­ackberry tree out by the back door of my home. I thank God that there was little damage done to my property.

If questions cost a nickle, I could buy enough bird seed to get me through winter. Everyone have been asking me, where are the Hummers hiding? Finally after what seems like an eternity, some are starting to show up at my feeders. I am not sure what caused the birds to be as scarce as they have been, but the weather had to take part of the blame. You would think that heat would be no problem, since most of our Hummers spend the winter months down in South America. I'm told you can walk into the jungle canopy for one minute and then you can take off your shirt and wring water from it.

Today after church, one of my newer bird friends was telling me about her three Hummingbird feeders staying busy. Felicia Drake, who lives out the Old Hunters Point Pike, has what must seem a complete plethora of wild birds. One of her shepherd hooks supports a bird feeder that sits just off the ground, where a flock of Wild Turkeys can take advantage of it.

I've never heard this before, but someone told Felicia that if you sprayed Pam, the non-stick cooking spray, on your Hummer feeder that it would keep wasps away. Just maybe, it would make the surface to slick to hold on to. I wonder which flavor works best!

By JOE BIDDLE

Titans Coach Mike Munchak is enjoying his favorite part of the NFL calendar.

Don’t bother to hazard a guess as to Munchak’s choice.

You won’t get it.

It’s the first 10 days of training camp. Huh? This guy has been involved in 30 NFL training camps. He was a Hall of Fame offensive lineman for the Houston Oilers. He hung up the cleats and became an assistant coach for the Oilers/Titans.

Munchak is in his second season as Titans head coach. Although NFL training camps have changed dramatically in recent years, Munchak holds firm that it’s the first 10 days that give him the most satisfaction and joy.

Why? It’s all about football. Teaching football. Teaching technique. Watching his team take shape, forming what will be its identity.

Mike Munchak is first and foremost a teacher. His classroom is the football field.

“Really, it’s the first 10 days for me because there are no games to be played,’’ Munchak said on the eve of training camp 2012.

By BECKY ANDREWS
Wilson Living Magazine

There seems to be an epidemic going around. It’s an epidemic that involves our children. I noticed something off in my own household a few years ago during a school break. After a few days of hanging out at home I was going stir crazy. When I suggested we go to a movie or ‘ANYTHING you want to do’ their response was confusing.

“We don’t wanna go anywhere.”

“Are you sure?  We can do whatever you want. What about the batting cages? Or Target? Chuck E. Cheese?”  I was desperate. There’s only one mouse I hate more than the one who resides at the happiest place on earth and his name is ‘Chuck E. Cheese’. The unsupervised children, the ‘prizes’, the bacterium filled pool of filth or ‘ball pit’, it was more than I cared to experience, but I was determined to get the kids out of the house.

“We just want to stay home.”

Who were these kids? When I was growing up and the opportunity to leave the house arose, it was a death race between my brothers and sisters to see who could get to the car first and win the coveted front seat.

It leaves the plateau. Not in a rush or even a long, slow glide as the interstate highway does. It leaves in little jerks, jumps, and twitches, as a deer would leave the plateau. Later it begins to glide as it winds through the hills.

On sunny days, as the sun tops the rim and tendrils of smoky sunlight filter through the hardwood leaves and glance off the water, it winks and smiles. It seems as though it is always looking back at you and watching as you sight it through the trees. It talks to you.

By Angel Kane
Wilson Living Magazine

One Thousand Three Hundred Twenty Hours...(this is how long my kids have been out of school.)

One Hundred Sixty Eight Hours…(until peace is restored to my life!)

The countdown has begun in the Kane household and Brody and I are thrilled, thrilled, thrilled that in one short week, our lovely, adorable children will be back in school.

Don’t get me wrong, who doesn’t love driving kids around all day long between work, tennis camp, soccer camp, art camp, Wendy’s and the pool?

But all good things come to an end and the end, my friends, is in sight!