- Slick Lizard Game Farm Jerry Adkins Nauvoo Alabama
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Slick Lizard Game Farm Jerry Adkins Nauvoo Alabama Crack Down On. Northern Alabama has become a launching point for global trafficking of fighting animals, and its time for authorities to crack down on this criminal conduct. Not to mention the ratio of males to females were nearly 10 to 1. Slick Lizard Game Farm Jerry Adkins Nauvoo Alabama more. Intertitle Also known as ' Light Years LUX' Genre Created by Creative director(s) Starring Opening theme 'Beautiful Tree' by Composer(s) Country of origin United States Original language(s) English No. Of seasons 2 No. Of episodes 26 Production Executive producer(s) Liz Tigelaar.
Can you be thankful and sad at the same time?Carl J. McKeever died this morning.That is the saddest sentence I have ever typed.He was born April 13, 1912 in the Slick Lizard community just outside Nauvoo, Alabama. His mother, Bessie Lowry McKeever was 17 and his father George was 20. Carl was the first of their 12 children. George would die in his mid-40s of a heart attack, leaving Bessie carrying the yet-to-be-born Georgelle.Carl dropped out of school in the 7th grade to help earn a living. He carried water for a planer mill for two years, then went to work inside the coal mines, working for his father, doing a man's work for a man's wages.
For the next 35 years, he worked the mines in North Alabama, Virginia, and West Virginia, without missing one day from accident or sickness. Commandos behind enemy lines windows 7 patch. That's not to say he did not have an accident or wasn't sick; it's more a tribute to his work ethic. We found out after his retirement from disability that he had broken his back in those difficult years of the 1940-1950s and had just gone on to work.In 1930 when Carl met Lois Jane Kilgore at the New Oak Grove Free Will Baptist Church, two miles north of Nauvoo, everything changed for him.
Her family life was the essence of stability. This was a church-going, salt-of-the-earth farm family. John Wesley 'Virge' Kilgore and his wife Sarah Noles Kilgore had nine children–Lois was in the middle of the pack–each one a winner and each devoted to the others. Carl did a good thing when he married into this family on March 3, 1934.Early on in their relationship, Dad made a profession of faith and was baptized in the creek that runs between the church and the Kilgore place, three miles up the Poplar Springs Road. He joked that thereafter the creek was called Blackwater. Which it is.I will not attempt to try to capture in a few words all that this man was.
He was a contradiction on many levels, in many ways. Until his middle years, his language was profane (but not obscene; there's a difference) and he had a temper. When he disciplined his six children–I'm number four–it became an experience you would not soon forget. I would not say he had a love for the bottle in those early years, but a weakness for it would be closer to the truth. He never missed a day of work, always took care of his family, but Mom used to say he could come within a mile of a still and become intoxicated. Thankfully, he gave up even the occasional drink nearly 50 years ago.
But I still remember some of those times. You don't forget them.Mom and I sometimes laugh about the time Dad came home–this would have been about 1957–under the strong influence, and decided he wanted to kill a hog.
Readers with farm experience will know what a major undertaking that is, but there was no one to help but Mom and me. Now, imagine this intoxicated man killing the hog and stringing it up and cutting it open and all that that involves, and him with the staggers, making crude jokes, and Mom and me both laughing and crying at the same time.
We eventually got that hog in pieces small enough to put in the freezer, to be dealt with another day. As I say, we laugh now, but it was anything but funny then. Pop would listen to our tale and only faintly smile, having no recollection of the event and probably a little embarrassed by it.Even back then, Pop would often spend his Sundays sitting by the radio, listening to preachers and gospel singers. I could never figure out how these things meshed inside him. He would read his Bible, and not long ago gave me the little Bible he had used a half-century ago. He had marked the text he heard me preach in my first revival up the road 3 miles in a building now housing a convenience store.
John 1:42 'And he brought him to Jesus.' The sermon was a rip-off from one Dwight L. Moody had preached a century earlier. I was impressed that Dad still remembered that.He bought me my first Bible. We were living in the mining camp called Affinity, 6 miles out from Beckley, West Virginia, and a mile down the railroad track from Sophia. Sometime in late 1948, he told me to come go with him. We walked the track alongside others–this short walk to Sophia (we called it Sophie) was well-trod–and inside a variety store, he asked me to choose the Bible I wanted.
The translations were all the same, the KJV, so the choices had to do with color, print, and binding. I chose a black one with a zipper cover, the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I read it every day for many years.
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(It was burned up in our house fire in 1954.)Looking back, I wonder why Dad did that. He had six children, but bought a Bible for only one.I am forever humbled by that and eternally grateful.At funerals, they often display pictures of the honored guest. I have shelves of them, and have just spent an hour going through them, smiling at memories, trying to identify this person or that.
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Lots are of Dad, and I pulled many out. To my surprise, scorecards from several family games of rummy fell out. For reasons lost in family antiquity, we have played rummy through all these decades.
We sit around the dining room table, most often a foursome, laughing, teasing, fussing, enjoying each other in ways and to depths we could not find words to express. Mom never played, but worked in the kitchen nearby and made sure everyone had enough to eat.One of the scorecards shows Pop and Me playing against Ron and Charlie. Charlie, the youngest of Mom and Dad's six, went to Heaven in April of 2006 from a massive heart attack, leaving a void in their lives nothing has been able to fill. My siblings will enjoy seeing this card.My father was a man of faith, but he was such a complicated mixture of faith and opinions, of steadfast rock-solid convictions blended with who knows what all else, I'm just glad it's up to the Lord to sort it all out. We have no fear that He knows our Dad to love Him and that He has welcomed Pop to his heavenly home.I was looking through the photos specifically for one I took a couple of years back at the cemetery where Dad's body will be interred.
The tombstone with his and Mom's names on it had already been erected, and I got him standing beside it. If I find it, we'll post it on the website (www.joemckeever.com). At the time, I said, 'The day will come, Pop, when I'll come out here and look at this photograph and think of you standing right here.' I was the sentimentalist; he never was. He made some innocuous remark and turned to pose for me.Thirty or forty years ago, he and I drove from the homeplace near Nauvoo to Birmingham for some reason or other, a 90 minute trip.
I laid a small tape recorder in the front seat and recorded the entire conversation. Only when I had to turn the cassette over did he say, 'Are you taping this?' But he never let up, commenting on who lives down this road and remembering the time he worked a mines down that road. He loved to talk; people who joke about the Irish kissing the Blarney stone must have been talking about Dad and any of his six children! (I came by it honestly.)I told him, 'There will come a day when I'll be missing you and I'll pop this tape in the car and make this same drive to Birmingham and imagine you sitting right there, pointing down this road or that one. It'll be like having you back.'Alas, these modern cars don't even have tape players.As we neared Jasper, I recall him pointing at a house beside a church and telling of the time that pastor was caught hunting out of season. The church members took up an offering to pay his fine.
I said, 'I would give anything to have heard the way the fund-raiser laid that on the heart of the congregation. I want that man in my church!'As a teenager, I rode with Dad to Jasper once when he was on his way to work in the Gorgas mines. He dropped me off at my girlfriend's house and picked me up 8 hours later on his way home.
(Don't you know Joyce's mother loved that!) Along the way, I listened as Dad's riders, miners who carpooled with him, chatted back and forth. What made a lasting impression on this youngster was that the men would be talking over one another until Carl spoke. When he said anything, all conversation ceased and they listened. That's the kind of respect he generated in other men.
I never mentioned it and he had no idea what had just been communicated to his number four offspring.Some four or five years ago, Dad and I were sitting on the front porch, he on the swing. I said, 'Dad, I'm so glad I've had the opportunity to see you grow older.' No answer. I said, 'You are a far better man now than you were when you were younger.' Pause. Finally he said, 'Well, you hope you grow.' And nothing more.About five feet seven inches high. Usually around 200 pounds. Solid muscle.
The strongest man I ever knew. And the toughest. No grandfather ever loved his little ones more than Pop, even though he had trouble remembering all their names and called each one 'Shortie.'Dad filled a room when he walked in. And he has left it mighty empty when he departed.I had said I was not going to grieve. After all, how could we grieve when we have had our wonderful father for 95-and-a-half years. I mean, who wouldn't settle for that!
And yet.It was just longer to love him and be loved by him.The challenge at the funeral. (probably Tuesday morning and definitely at New Oak Grove Free Will Baptist Church near Nauvoo, Alabama) will be to confine our remarks to a brief period. Oldest sibling Ronnie will speak, our longtime pastor Mickey Crane will certainly be the lead preacher, and I expect I'll be on the program too. Deciding what to say is not the problem; what not to say will be.For as long as I remember, Dad's favorite scripture has been Proverbs 22:1, 'A good name is rather to be chosen than great riches.'In my Bible, I've highlighted that, written 'Pop's verse' out to the side, and then this note: 'McKeever is a far better name as a result of his life.'I hope to continue that legacy.(.Kilgore Funeral Home in Jasper, Alabama, is in charge.)(For those who asked, Mom's address is: Lois McKeever, 191 County Road 101, Nauvoo, AL 35578.). Joe,I am praying for you and your family. We lost my dad two years ago at the age of 94.(Actually we didn't lose him, we know where he is). We never get ready to give them up, but it is a comfort to know that our Heavenly Father has a far better place, where there is no more suffering or sorrow.
Thanks for your faithfulness in standing men on their feet. I know that our Lord's grace will be sufficient for you. May the comfort and peace that you have preached to others be felt in the heart and mind of you and yours during this time of sadness.Jimmy Griffith(Andy's distant relative)P.S. I still have the card you sent me and I will always cherish it. Thanks for taking the time to do it. Joe,I can really sympathize with you for my Mother was 93 when she died and my Dad was 90.
They had been married for 71 years. My Dad died in 1984 in July,and my Mother left us three months later in October.
My girls and I often commented that when parents live that long that it just seems that they are going to live forever, and they do not.Yes, you will grieve, as you should, but you will also be thankful for the many wonderful memories that you have already shared, and there will be many more from time to time that you will remember.I would appreciate your printing addresses again for your mother and also for you.Remembering you in a special way,Irma Glover. Dear Joe,My prayers are for you and your family in these days ahead. I lost my dad five years ago last February 27. I shall miss him until God calls me home. Your tribute to your dad is beautiful. I wish I'd known him. I wish I'd made a video or tape recording of Dad tell part of the family history.
All I have are memories that in time may fade or become inaccurate. I am thankful for them, though. I never cross a railroad track (Dad was a conductor on the AGS) that I don't remember him.
It was 6 months before I was able to grieve over his death. Even though I knew he was with the Lord, it was a very hard time for me.
I will pray for you to receive God's sustaining comfort.Thank you for your writings. They inspire me so much.Jim Hinton. Joe,You would have liked my Dad–sounds like you had one just like him. Substitute 'plant work' in Baton Rouge for coal mines, subtract a few years, and you have my Dad. Not a day goes by I don't think about him and what his presence in my life meant–even though we argued all the time about politics and Baptist churches! I always thought that the primary reason I like you so much is our mutual love of gab.' Boy was I wrng! Seems we both were blessed to have 'larger than life' fathers.
I cnnot attend the funeral–surely do want to–but will be running the Central, Eastern, and Southern Africa regional committee on that day. BUT–you will be in my prayers.Lonnie. Joe, thank you for sharing your father with us during his life and for sharing with us now that he is the house prepared for him by Jesus. I know that the Lord will use you all to be a part of a wonderful homegoing celebration.If I had been saved earlier in the year back in the early 1960s I would have been baptized in that same Blackwater where your father was baptized. However it was winter and I was baptized in the unheated baptisty at First Baptist Double Springs since Lynn Baptist had no baptistry.Your father and mother are heroes of the faith.
I thank God for them both. We will lift your family up in prayer. Joe: My thoughts and prayers are with you and all the family, especially your wonderful Mother. The true blessing for her is that she will have so much of the family there to help her grieve at the loss of your Dad and to celebrate his amazing life.
Your family is truly blessed to have had this husband, father, grandfather and great-grandfather in your lives for such a long time and we, your readers and friends, are blessed to have known him through your words.God bless you and all of your family.Si. Joe:Thank you for sharing your father with us. He sounds a lot like my Dad. I could call Dad with questins like, 'Who was the fourth Marx brother?' And he would know.Dad went to Glory several years ago but one year I lost my mother. She passed on her 87th birthday. If I am to think 'Logically' I am sixty-four years old and have known for at least 55 years that some day I would probably have to bury my mother.
Intelligence along tells me I should be ready. But God gave us something far greater than intelligence or logic. He gave us love. The beauty of love is that while it hurts when we are separated, it never ends. May God grant that you can rest your hand in His during the difficult times ahead. God bless you and your family. I only met Carl('Pop') twice, but I knew he was a special person.
I was Carolyn and Van's pastor at the time. 'Mom' was a servant to 'Pop'. My how special this family has been to so many different pastor's families down through the years. When the devil would attack a pastor, this family was standing in the Lord's corner with that pastor and the pastor's family.
Our Heavenly Father knows who 'Pop' is and recognizes him as one of His children. Carl and the Lord have been in the same corner and room many times.
Slick Lizard Game Farm Jerry Adkins Nauvoo Alabama
What a mansion he must have waitng for 'Mom.' My prayer is that the Lord will continue to bless the McKeever family. So, until we see Carl 'Pop' again, face to face, may all of us 'keep the faith' and the memories!
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Amen.Ray Crump.
