Good morning, y’all. I don’t know how hot it is where you are, but at midnight it was 90 degrees on the big Coca Cola thermometer outside of the Rec Room. During the day it was hotter than two cats mating in a burlap bag. I don’t know whether to believe in Global Warming or not, but I sure do believe in Georgia Warming.
It’s time to introduce you to the “Lites” of my life, Bud Junior and Melody. I will use this opportunity to tell them publicly I’m sorry for all of the shenanigans and the pain they’ve had to endure. In truth, I don’t know that anyone is reading these postings but my parole officer and my shrink, but just in case anyone wanders over here and sees their name mentioned, I thought I’d get the amends out of the way.
Bud was born Buford Forrest Lite Junior in 1970. He was a big boy, 8 pounds and 14 ounces and he had all of his parts. Shortly after his birth, I got an all expense paid Southeast Asia vacation, courtesy of Uncle Sam. When I returned, Bud Jr. had changed a lot. Truth be told, we both had. I think we tried to do everything as “normal” as we could for Bud. He went to regular school, not home-schooled like the Bible Thumpers. To give him an “international exposure”, we drove him to Gainesville so that he could play soccer.
After I got back from Southeast Asia, I had a lot of trouble sleeping. I watched a lot of TV, at all hours. We had this big satellite dish that pulled in stations from all over the world, and I was able to watch sports 24 hours a day. As fate would have it, I happened on a soccer match one time during one of my all night marathons. I watched this one player fly into an opponent and send him tumbling. Rather than take advantage of the situation, the attacking team kicked the ball out of bounds. The “out of bounds” allowed the attacking team’s opponent to get help during the time out. I was shocked. I guess I’d never seen sportsmanship before. It made such an impression on me that we took little Bud to soccer instead of PeeWee football.
The family took constant egging for our pursuit of a “furen” sport, but we got the last laugh when Bud went off to Athens to do the kicking for my beloved Bulldogs. He did real fine at UGA, and we were happy to have the Athletic Department pay for his degree in Criminal Justice. Sadly, I believe Bud got his interest in criminal justice from an overexposure to his Dad’s hijinks. I’m proud to say he’s the Chief of Police here in our community of Nunsuch, and still hopes to join the FBI one day. His lovely wife Crystal gave birth to Trey last year and they all seem to be as happy as ticks on a dog.
My beautiful daughter Melody was born in 1976 and weighed in at 6 pounds and 4 ounces. She inherited her Mom’s good looks and her Dad’s temperament. The comedian Chris Rock once opined, ‘If you can keep your son off the pipe and your daughter off the pole, you’re ahead of the game.’ We’re batting .500. Melody danced professionally for thirty years before retiring a few years back. It’s been a very, very hard life for her. She never married and never really seemed to have any steady boyfriends, even though she’s the prettiest girl in these parts. She hasn’t come by to see me since my release, but I’m hoping she’ll come by soon. I’ve got some amends to make, and a lot of the them are for Melody. She deserved so much better.