I am not a photographer, at least not a trained photographer.
Having spent eight years at a community newspaper, though, I picked up a few tricks here and there, and over time, I’ve managed to capture a few images I’ve thought were worth sharing. Over the coming weeks, I’m going to post a few in a new series I’m calling “1,000 Words.” I hope to post the image, maybe tell a bit about the shot itself and, if applicable, a story behind the image.
My mom wrote and read a small piece for our cousin Ron Raybould’s funeral held earlier this morning. When she sent it to me to read on Friday, she asked me if I liked it, if it was OK.
You know a man is a good man when you can clearly remember the last conversation you had with him.
You know a man is a better man when that last conversation took place several years ago and involved nothing more than a routine phone call asking for a vote in an upcoming election.
I don’t recall the year, probably sometime in the mid-to-late-1990s, but that was the last time I spoke with Ted Lacy, who called my parents’ house seeking their support in the jailer’s race in Powell County. Ted knew the entire household would be casting their votes for him, but he made the call anyhow to thank my parents and because that’s just what a man does.