Playing Chase with a Confused Cool Hand Luke

Hello folks, let’s chat…When my sisters and I were growing up back on Bull Run Road, we played Chase Don’t Touch the Ground under Papa’s equipment shed. It was a dangerous game, but at least we outgrew it. Not everyone does.

For illustration, I give you a story ripped straight from the headlines. It involves a 36 year old man from South Carolina. We’re going to call him Cool Hand Luke for reasons that will soon become clear. According to the police report, officers followed Cool Hand Luke for miles with their lights flashing and sirens sounding but he wouldn’t pull over. He led them back to his own house instead.


Upon arriving, Cool Hand Luke reportedly ignored the officer’s instructions to remain in his car. He got out anyway and began making his way towards his front door. “Put your hands up!” the officers yelled. “You’re under arrest.”

That’s when Cool Hand Luke reached out, put his hand on the side of his house and calmly explained that they couldn’t arrest him now because he was “on base.”

That’s right. From all accounts, Cool Hand Luke was confused on where the childhood game of chase ends and the adult game of jail time begins. I’m thinking he’s figuring it out now. Especially since he was quickly subdued and charged with a number of offenses including: driving without a license, failure to stop for blue lights, resisting arrest, and surprise surprise — driving while intoxicated.

My friends and I think it would be hard not to have some fun with Cool Hand Luke if we were involved with his trial in any way whatsoever.

Paulette said if she were on the jury, she’d try to get the others to play musical chairs. I said if I were the judge, I’d pretend to use rock, paper, scissors for the sentencing.

“Yeah, Shellie!” Bubba said. “And someone could tell Cool Hand Luke that his new cell block friends would probably be happy to play Kiss Chase.”

“Um…tic, tac, no,” I told Bubba. “That’s just wrong.”

Why Papa Needs Shopping Supervision

Hello folks, let’s chat… There are certain men who shouldn’t be allowed to go shopping for their sweethearts without supervision. By certain men, I’m talking about Papa.

My parents recently celebrated their 49th wedding anniversary. Papa remembered this all on his own, which is good. He brought Mama flowers from the funeral home flower shop. That wasn’t so good. If you’re thinking “But, Shellie, people buy flowers from the funeral home for all kinds of happy occasions” you have a point. The problem is someone there was either not paying attention, taking cruel advantage of Papa’s shopping challenged self, or having some fun at his expense. Regardless, they were wrong for letting the poor man purchase a funeral spray for his Sweet Thang. We’re talking a nice-sized plastic spray meant to sit atop a casket or gravestone, the kind that comes with its own lovely base of green foam. Are you picking up what I’m putting down?

If you see Mama, don’t tell her it’s the thought that counts. We tried. She may have cut him some slack for those good intentions, too– if he weren’t a repeat offender. Yes, it’s hard to believe but Papa has made the same mistake for two years running and for two years straight Mama has toted the flowers to church and put them on the communion table, the one with the engraved “This Do in Remembrance of Me” line. The rest of us are hoping that’s just a funny little coincidence.


Poor Papa, he should’ve asked one of us girls for help, like he does my middle sister at Christmas time when he has her bring Mama in some snazzy outfits from the Big D. We could’ve saved him a ton of grief. (Yeah, and I wasn’t even reaching for that pun.)

The only thing I can do now is try and keep him out of deeper trouble. Listen up, guys, this tip could save the rest of you some shopping drama, too. I found a new fragrance online called Funeral Home, designed with those very scents in mind.

Buyers beware. Unless I miss my guess, your honey will wear it over her dead body…or yours.

Hugs, Shellie



Wedding Throwdowns and Debunking Southern Stereotypes

Hello folks, let’s chat… Once again I question why we southerners are always the ones stereotyped as crazy gun-toting rednecks fond of marrying our relatives. Everybody around here marries outside of their family. On purpose.

And, may the record show that I’ve never witnessed a brawl at any of our beautiful ceremonies. maybe a few looks that could kill, but an all out riot, no ma’am. I bring this up in light of a story coming out of New Jersey with the following headline. “300 Brawl at Wedding; 2 arrested.”


The article didn’t say if this was a self-contained family feud or an us against them brawl with the new in-laws but either way, the Christmas get-together is looking sketchy.

And speaking of sketchy, the whole story left me with more questions than answers. Like that quote from the off duty cops who were working as security for the big event, do tell. Is security a common line item on the wedding plan these days? Flowers? Check. Photographer? Check. Undercover officers in case of a throw down? Check.

For what it’s worth, Bubba says it wasn’t much of a fight if only two people were arrested out of 300. He’s thinking there was probably more pushing and posing than anything. “You want some of me?” “You talking to me?!!”

But, I digress.

I sincerely hope this PoPo wedding is an isolated incident and not a trend. However, because I’m here for y’all and all that, I’ve put together a helpful list. Here are the top three ways to tell if you’re about to witness a happily ever after type ceremony or a throw down.

Number 3.  You’re still wondering why brass knuckles were listed on the couple’s gift registry.

Number 2.  You notice the family sections are roped off with police tape instead of tulle.

And the number one way to tell if you’re headed to a thrown down:  You’re fingerprinted when you go to sign the guest book.

If you can check two of the three, speak now and do not hold your peace.