The late Doug Viar and I chatting during a Clinton-Gore appearance in NW-TN back in 1996. My friend Tod Hayes is over my shoulder with a camera on his shoulder.


Whenever there’s a tornado outbreak, I think about Doug Viar. Whenever I hear something stupid in the news, I think about Doug Viar. Whenever I see something dumb in politics (there a lot these days!) I think abut Doug Viar.

Back to tornadoes. Doug and I covered so many tornadoes together or at the same time in different locations, I have lost count. It was sort of our thing long before StormChasers became trendy. Doug was a real newsman. And he wouldn’t be offended by being called a newsMAN.

That’s Doug at one of the many tornadoes we covered. He owned a satellite truck at the time (there in the background) and was getting my signal back to Weather Channel for a live shot I was doing. During the downtime he was shooting some of the damage. This was near Paris, TN in the spring of 2001.

I distinctly remember in the 1980’s piloting myself to New Madrid, MO one night on the backside of a tornado that has just hit Southern Missouri. Doug needed me to pick up a tape and fly it back to Memphis to make the 10 PM newscast. It was a routine we carried out for two decades.

That’s why I wasn’t very concerned the morning of April 4, 2011 when I was trying to reach Doug by phone and couldn’t. Another severe weather outbreak was taking place near his home in Jackson, TN. Tornadoes again. I was already living here in the Blue Ridge of Virginia but we often chatted about developing storm systems. I just figured he’d lost power or was out shooting somewhere and couldn’t be reached. It happened a lot when covering storms. But that’s not what was going on at all. Doug was dead. I got a Facebook message from his daughter Lori out in Nevada that he was gone.

Above is a screenshot of a tribute I wrote about Doug on our magazine website after returning from his funeral in Tennessee in 2011. Click on the image to read that post, it’s got lots of history.

A dozen years has passed since Doug left us. And, my how things have changed. He wouldn’t recognize the news business anymore. He already hated what it had become back then, and knew where it was headed. I often ask WWDV do? Seriously. He’d be so disgusted. Country music was one of his favorites. Given what it’s recently become I think I know a few choice words he’d have. Politics, there’s not enough profanity to go around for his take.

Doug was a steady, commonsense hand in a crazy news business and world where emotions and self centeredness runs high. He had no issue telling off some inexperienced just out of college producer where to go. “You’re back there, I am out here, you have no idea what’s happening, I’ll get back to you!” He’d often say.

Mainly these days I just miss my friend and mentor. He was someone I could bounce things off of often. Or just chat with and catchup while driving down the road here in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Doug would want me to end this on a positive note. So I will. Above one of his funniest moments ever. Soooooo many outtakes we did when he was trying to do an intro to a TV magazine show. It was rare to see him in front of the camera, but this was how I remember his antics.

Anyone old enough to remember, will remember this familiar voice of Doug reporting all across the Mid-South and the Southeastern U.S. It was unique and unmistakeable.

Even after 12 years has passed, I still, daily, ask WWDV do.

Doug Viar January 2002 uplinking a live sat shot from the truck he owned. I was doing a hit for The Weather Channel during a snowstorm in Nashville, Tennessee.

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This Is What Potential Presidential Looks Like

Screenshot : Piers Morgan Show : YouTube

I’ve not been a Piers Morgan fan. Especially years ago. He was just so irrational and so opposed to fundamental American foundations. For example 2A. He’s softened on many of those things he once held firm opinions of.

That said, his latest interview with Florida Governor Ron Desantis was fair, complete and informative. DeSantis opens up and shows a personal side as well.

Below the full uncut interview.

This guy makes Trump look like a complete amateur. We need a more tempered approach to the political environment. At least in this interview, DeSantis delivers that.

To be clear, I left the Republican Party after Bush 2’s second term. Once he pushed Patriot Act, TSA and the like, I knew the party was no longer about personal rights, smaller government, and freedom. To the contrary. Today I consider myself an independent. Heck I voted for Jo Jorgensen in the last election.

That said, I like what I saw in this interview. Does that convert? Time will tell.

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Eating Out

Having been in the TV News business for about 20 years before my move to Virginia, I ate out more than a lot of folks. When you’re darting all over the place to cover a story, or hoping into a plane to cover this story or that, you eat on the run, a lot. Often times if wasn’t great and was the drive thru of the day. So when you finally are some place overnight and you get to sit down in a nice restaurant and have a good meal, it’s a big deal.

That’s me (left) back in the the mid 90s with my friend and fellow news guy, Steve Hayslip. Back then we were covering a visit by President Clinton and VP Gore to a rural West Tennessee church.

Fast forward about 20 more years I still eat out a regularly. It’s more or less my social interaction with buds. There’s three of us that meet just about every weekday for lunch at the local Mexican restaurant. There’s me (SROMEO – Semi Retired Old Man Eating Out), a dentist, and a transportation man with a nearby university. They talk sports, I listen. But we then talk about other things too. Just ask us, we have solved most world problems in about an hour.

When I go out to eat and spend my money, I don’t go out wanting a flow chart on how to order and how to pay. I go for the experience, the interaction, and not having to do it myself. Eating out should be an experience between you and the wait staff, the kitchen, the owners, etc.

That’s Phil D’Ambola! We loved eating at his restaurant. He knew what personal service meant, and he made sure you enjoyed the meal. Every, single, time.

My wife and I used to eat at this Italian restaurant after first moving to Virginia. It was called D’Ambolas. You never wanted for anything. It was a tad pricey, but you didn’t care. We knew the owner and all of his. staff. There was a waiter there named Bill. No matter how difficult your request for a drink or meal might be, his words were always, “Excellent choice!” He made you feel special. One of the food runners there was a recent grad from high school. Our nickname for her was Sassy, well, because she was. We got to know her well, and years later after she graduated from college she became a writer and photographer for our magazine. My point, it’s about relationships.

About two years ago I began seeing a trend in the restaurant and hospitality industry. QR codes. Look, I am more technologically advanced than most out there. Especially at age 60 I am light years ahead of some 20 years younger. I love technology and use it all of the time. Generally I have the latest technology, phone, cameras, security systems, computers, and on and on. But when I go out to eat I don’t want technology waiting on me. If I am spending money to go out, I want the experience of going out to eat.

My first encounter with Mr. QR was in the summer of 2019. I’d taken the kids to a resort restaurant nearby and walking up there was a sandwich board. “Order your meal from our QR code here.” Huh? This wasn’t a top notch restaurant, but it wasn’t a Sonic Drive-In either. It was a legit sit down place that had a beautiful patio/deck overlooking a nice golf course with a breathtaking mountain views. I asked if I could get a paper menu? The waiter, a bit frustrated, said, “Sure.” Once I got the menu, he said I could order via the QR code with their app and the kitchen would bring it out. Huh?  I also asked for a kids menu, “We did away with that.” Huh? A family resort, no kids menu. Ok. I then said “I’ll just order from you if that’s ok, otherwise why am I tipping you?” He got it, and was frankly embarrassed by the whole ordeal. I never went back to the restaurant. Incidentally, it closed permanently not long after that. New owners will reopen it this summer. Hopefully without that sort of nonsense to order. It’s worth noting the average age of their clientele was probably 70-75+, I can’t imagine what they were thinking.

It’s happening a lot now. Covid years seemed to give all sorts of businesses an excuse to let sloppiness grow and insert in these little technological surprises. It’s happening everywhere. No cash, some even want payment to be all via a smartphone only. Look I get it. Staffing is a big issue post Covid. Know what we did in our magazine when we didn’t have staff? We did it ourselves. Through my wife birthing two kids, sickness, blizzards, and more, 193 issues. We never missed a one. Never missed deliveries, deadlines, etc. Corporate chains have become the worst now. They are betting people won’t notice, or care. I suppose some won’t. But I am betting most will. When someone goes out, they like tradition, relationships, the experience. Mr. QR isn’t an experience.

Now, can I have another drink and dessert please? No QR.


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Get Busy Living Or Get Busy Dying

That’s us in the studio of WMC-TV5 Memphis, TN (Action News 5) Circa 2000.

Nelson County, Virginia

In our former lives we were TV News reporters. Primarly in Memphis, yes, that Memphis you have been hearing so much about lately. Yvette was a metro reporter in the thick of it inside the city. Convenience store robbery of the day, corrupt city councilman or whatever. I’d been a regional reporter since the early 90s that covered portions of several states including Arkansas, Tennessee, Missouri, Kentucky, Mississippi, and far Northwest Alabama. I also did fairly regular on-air TV weather. So I did have it somewhat better, but it was still TV News, and the industry today that’s essentially a cesspool. Mostly it’s entertainment masqueraded as news. There’s some good people left in it, but they are becoming a rare breed, and most today lack basic journalism skills. But I digress.

Long before Yvette and I met I’d been a regional reporter, getting my start at a competing station WREG-TV (News Channel 3) – At one time in my life I thought I’d be there until retirement. It was a sweet place to work back in those days. One news director they hired changed all of that and it became a pretty miserable place. It was just a matter of time, they all fell to their own demise we see today.

A year or two after we met, it was obvious TV News wasn’t the place we’d eventually want to be raising a family in. Stupid overnight hours at times, silly assignments, downright dangerous assignments at times. We didn’t want our legacy to be getting shot while covering the armed robbery story of the day at Circle-K. Or, being struck by lightning on the side of the road covering a tornado.

We knew if we wanted the life we wanted to live, we had to get busy doing it. Morgan Freeman said it best in Shawshank Redemption. “Get busy living, or get busy dying.” First it meant getting out of the rat race TV industry. Back then you could make pretty decent money, but it wasn’t worth the sacrifice. Today starting reporters and tv meteorologists make nothing in comparison. But our decision wasn’t just financial, it was lifestyle. We knew to eventually have a farm in the mountains, space for our kids to grow, and so on. We had to start making the moves.

When Yvette told one of her fellow reporters in the station that she was planning an exit, her exact words were, “But you won’t be on TV.” Yvette replied and said, “Yup, that’s the plan!” We knew, even back then, it was a shallow, egotistical business. It’s only gotten worse.

Circa 2002. There we are with the company we founded. RuralRoot. We literally sold drinking and canning jars on the internet to get out of the TV news business.

So we began selling drinking jars on the internet. Think Yahoo days, not Google. That eventually gave us the money to make the move to the Virginia Blue Ridge Mountains. We were still working in TV News almost to the end of the move, but we clearly had a plan of exit and at 3 years we were able to pull the trigger. Mentally we’d left the day the decision was made.

The first home we bought after moving to Virginia in 2004. This was 5 years later during a major blizzard dropping 2 feet of snow in 24 hours. (That’s a very rare event here, by the way!)

Once we landed in Virginia, (2004) we eventually sold the mail-order company and started a local lifestyle, features and recreation magazine. Years after starting that magazine we rebranded it to cover a larger area of the Central Virginia Blue Ridge. Think the late Charles Kuralt, but in print. We were the bosses and decided what and when soties were covered. Not some crazy news director detached from real people trying to make a name for him or herself. It was another building block on our way to the life we wanted. Those magazine days were actually some of the best. We learned the area, all of the people and made new friends for life.

We started a family in that house, built another successful business, and started the lifestyle we wanted. We didn’t ask permission to go on vacation or when. We went. Our health insurance was our responsibility not that of HR. We got all of the responsibility, but also got all of the freedom.

After 10 wonderful years in that first Virginia home, we bought a 46 acre farmette, if you will. It would need a lot of work, but it gave us even more space for the kids to grow and roam. We’ve been here now for 9 years in May.

By 2014 it was time to move one once again. The home we’d bought along that sweet little two lane highway was becoming a busier area. We needed space and moved 12 miles down that highway, across a mountain, to Roseland. Bryant to be exact.


We eventually shuttered the magazine in 2021 after 16 great years. It was time. I was spending more and more time tending to the farm and Yvette finally pursued something she’d been wanting to do, real estate. Particularly land. Just last year she became a broker. Again, a lifestyle change that allows us to pretty much to determine our life. I guess you’d say I’m semi retired. I’m ok with that.

Just before the covid scare Yvette began preparation for a new change. Something she’d wanted to do for over a decade. Real Estate. 3 years after that she became a broker.

Most people think they are tied to a job. It’s easier to stay and complain than move and get what you want. Or so you think. The costs are great. We see everything our kids do and learn, we homeschool, have since the start 14 years ago. (that’s another post one day) We aren’t trying to juggle work life with home life. This is life. We aren’t scheduling around someone else’s wishes in a corner office.

I watch a lot of people I know, that have the means, continue identifying themselves in their work. They can’t sit still and just watch the sun rise, or set. I ask them often, when is enough, enough? When? They almost freeze at the thought of not working. There’s no real exit strategy.

If you believe working somewhere until you’re 62, 65, 70 or whatever to retire and live a few more years, you’ve got it all wrong. Make those moves now, while you’re able to.

You won’t be sorry. Never will you be sorry.

I got very lucky. After screwing up most of my early life, being reckless in relationships, and being a poor money manager, I found the sweet spot. Had I to do it over again I would have set my sites on being done by 45. Financially that is. But there’s always time as long as you are still living and breathing.

Tomorrow is never guaranteed. Start now.

That’s us in the studio of WMC-TV5 Memphis, TN (Action News 5) Circa 2000.


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And Here We Are Almost Three Years Later.

Pinecone Land. My daughter Peyton named this very special place when she was only 4 years old. It’s still my favorite spot to go and be quiet, still, and listen to life.

Nelson County, Virginia

Back in April of 2020 I wrote a post here right here called, Keep The Fire Burning : Why A Hug, A Handshake & Friends Matter Now More Than Ever

My opening paragraph in that post was this.

“Most every creature in nature desires, even craves, companionship. Humans are no different. Yes, we can be introverts or extroverts, but eventually we all enjoy the company of a mate, or close friends gathered around a bonfire. For centuries a handshake has been a welcome to someone new. Or sealing a deal after a long negotiation. Or a way to say let’s forgive and move on. That’s being taken away from you now in front of your very eyes. Why? Because we are allowing it to happen.”

So here we are almost three years later. Has much changed? Sort of. I see less masks, “Hallelujah.” People are hugging again, mostly. Fist bumps have almost died (double hallelujah!) but there’s still a big undercurrent that hasn’t gone away. Us vs them. Are you jabbed? Are you not jabbed? Where’s your mask? I still see those things out there.

I’ve lost several friends over the past three years. Some of their choosing, some because I saw they really weren’t friends and I cut them off. If a condition of friendship was no hugs, wear a mask, be jabbed, and on and on, I don’t need you as a friend. It’s conditional. Nope. I have friends today that are both. Jabbed and not. We remain friends. Am I concerned about folks that have taken a highly experimental untested substance? One that even its inventor, Dr. Robert Malone, M.D. from right here in Virginia, has sounded the alarms over. Yes I am. But the friends I have kept are true friends.

Those friends didn’t burn others at the stake when they refused to take the jab. I saw one friend of mine exposed to what could be described as a Salem Witch Trial when she and her family decided not to take the jab. When they got sick with whatever (the PCR test said positive – “Remember those high false positivity rates we now know aren’t our imaginations?”) I sat and watched, with disgust, how she and her family were skewered by her supposed friends and colleagues about how irresponsible they were and they were “killing grandma.” It was the worst of humanity I’ve seen in a long time.

Do you think you’ve gained anything by isolating yourself, not hugging, following those dumb green arrows in grocery stores and more? How about those silly videos thousands were making showing us how effective masks were by spraying hair spray through them? That didn’t bake well.

Almost 36 months later I am encouraged, and discouraged. People seem to be willing to let someone else boss them around, tell them how to live life and what’s best for them. Our founders are rolling in their graves right now at what’s happening. Society has become weak, fat, and sick. It was no accident. The way out won’t be any accident either. It will be deliberate, intentional, and decisive.

I’ll continue hugging, shaking hands, and moving forward. Hopefully those that are still locked into the mentality of three years ago will free themselves soon and enjoy the sunshine, experience life, and never, ever again lock themselves away and refuse to see their dying parent or grandmother or whatever.

Be brave. Be a human.

Pinecone Land. My daughter Peyton named this very special place when she was only 4 years old. It’s still my favorite spot to go and be quiet, still and listen to life.

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How I Became Friends With The Late Earl Hamner, Jr – Creator Of The Waltons

The late Earl Hamner, Jr with me and Yvette at our home back in Greenfield, Virginia in North Nelson County. He and his late sister Audrey had stopped by for a visit on this day back in the summer of 2006.

Nelson County, Virginia

Back in 2005 when we started a printed magazine here in the Blue Ridge of Virginia, Earl Hamner was in his early 80s and very much alive. A local director, Peter Coy, was in the process of establishing a theater here in his home county. It would be called the Earl Hamner Theater.

Peter Coy, Director/Founder of The Hamner Theater back in July 2005. He’s standing in what would become a theater in honor of Earl Hamner, Jr.

The inaugural cast and crew of The Homecoming on stage at The Hamner Theater. It was one of the first productions put on after the its completion in 2005-2006. Several other productions of the pilot that inspired The Waltons was put on there in the coming years.


Earl meeting our son Adam for the very first time back in November 2009 when he was back east here in Nelson at a book signing inside The Hamner Theater.


Earl (right) greets the late Paul Saunders and his wife Tatum (left) during a book signing at The Hamner Theater. Saunders wrote The Heartbeats Of Nelson over a decade ago before his death. The two were discussing the various books they’d written over time. November 2009.

Today The Hamner Theater is no longer located in the old community center in Nelson, but its vision is very much alive. Boomie Pedersen (founding, artistic, managing director) continues the theater with more of a fluid variety reaching beyond one location based in Nelson.

For those of you that don’t know who Earl Hamner was, he was best known for the television series he founded, The Waltons. It was a hit series about a depression era family here in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was loosely based on his childhood growing up in Schuyler, Virginia. A tiny community in Northeastern Nelson County, Virginia near the Albemarle County line.

Since our magazine had just started, getting an interview with Nelson’s most notable native would be a big get! I had no idea that interview would turn into a magical friendship with this man who was a national, no, international treasure.

When Peter Coy above mentioned I should call Earl and talk to him by phone I said, “How?” He said here’s his cell number call him, he’ll call you back. I thought surely this man who was so famous, writing and founding Falcon Crest, the TV series, as well as writing an adaptation of Charlotte’s Web, and writing several Twilight Zone episodes, would just pick the phone up and call me back? Yes. He did.

The old Anderson’s Grocery up in Afton, Virginia (Avon) back in May of 2005. This is where I was when Earl first called me on my cell phone.

I remember clearly the day he called me back. I was in the old Anderson’s Store in Avon / Afton. I was getting a bowl of chili they’d made for lunch that day. I answered my cell (Nextel flip phone – lol remember those days!!) and on the other end this man said, “Tommy this is that old California country boy, how are you?” From there the friendship began until his death over a decade later.

Above one of the many special voice mails Earl would often leave at old house up in Greenfield in the north part of Nelson County. This was shortly after our first son Adam was born back in 2008. Click on the white arrow inside the orange circle to listen.

Aside from the voice mails we would get, his emails would literally have you in the floor laughing. But that’s who Earl Hamner truly was, a kind, light hearted man who dearly loved sharing that with strangers and friends. It’s no wonder he was so cherished the world over by millions.

This was just one of dozens of emails we’d get throughout months and years we knew Earl before his death. This was one where we were coordinating another interview and he sent me a proof of something he’d written recently. Ironically it was based on a couple that had moved to Virginia and started a local magazine, newspaper. It’s sounded familiar indeed! Click on image to enlarge)

Above, another dear voice mail from Earl left at our house back in December 2005 after he’d gotten his issue of then Nelson County Life Magazine. Click on the white arrow inside the orange circle to listen.

Eventually Earl even offered to write in the pages of our magazine and we graciously accepted. Truthfully he probably felt a little sorry for us just starting out and would never let us pay him, so we’d complimentary surprise ship him his favorite wine ever, Black Rock Chardonnay, from Wintergreen Winery here in Nelson. That winery has long since shuttered, but it was always a special treat to ship it out west to Earl.

Above an endearing and comical message after we’d sent Earl a case of Blackrock Chardonnay in late 2006. (Press the white arrow in the orange circle to play.)

After replaying this message, even after all of these years I say out loud to myself, “What a fabulous man.” And he was. He touched so many people in so many ways. After my own mother, who passed away some years ago now, broke her ankle in a car wreck Earl telephoned her and chatted for what she described as forever. He just wanted to cheer her up and knew she was a die hard Waltons TV fan. She was on cloud nine!

From those phone calls and emails and visits over the years, the friendship and the relationship grew with my friend somehow we just clicked. From growing up as a youngster on a farm in NW Tennessee watching the Waltons, to living in the county of its creator and becoming friends with him along the way.

Earl in the center with me on the far left and Yvette, to the right of Earl is James Person and his wife and child. James wrote the authorized biography on Earl’s life. We were all back at the old hospital birthplace of Earl in his hometown of Schuyler, Virginia. This was in August 2005.

My friend and longtime friend of Earl Hamner, Woody Greenberg, took this photo of me, Earl & my then very young daughter Peyton, back in 2014 in Schuyler, Virginia while Earl was back here. A documentary was being filmed on him at the time. Little did we know, just a couple of years later Earl would be gone for good.

Woody Greenberg that shot the photo above was in part responsible for developing the friendship between Earl and I over the years. Woody had known Earl since the 70s when he was a newspaper reporter in the area. They too became very close friends and would often fly to California and visit with Earl and his wife.

As the years ticked by, I wondered many days how much longer we’d have this international treasure around. As Earl would say himself, he was no spring chicken. He was around 90 in that photo above, and made it to 92.

A few years before his death, Earl began alluding to me that things were changing. He knew it. Unsolicited, he sent this to me one day attached to an email. I think it was his way of beginning to say goodbye. I believe he originally prepared this for his own son and daughter to explain what was happening in those final years. You can click on the image above to read it. I’d have some Kleenex nearby. It’s one of the most touching things I have ever read.

In that letter above that Earl wrote when he was in his 80s, he mentioned a big rift and distaste from some dark things that happened to he and some of his family in Schuyler. Before his death that was all resolved, and he came back to Schuyler many times with welcoming arms and a big smile. He was there just a few months before his passing. Nelson County was one of his favorite places in the world.

And then …

I was reading something on Facebook one evening and happened to see a post by Earl’s son, Scott. Earl was gone. I was floored. I cried. I called my friend Woody who’d known Earl much longer that I ever did and asked if he’d heard this. He hadn’t. We confirmed it and both realized, our friend was gone. It really was Goodnight John Boy.

On March 24th 2016, Earl Hamner was gone. Age 92. Above is what I wrote on our website the we learned of his passing. You can click on the photo above to read that story and view some other interviews and memories.

I knew from our conversations in that last year, those final few months, it wasn’t good. And then the phone calls stopped, the emails stopped. And Earl finally said goodnight.

His memory lives on up in Schuyler. His boyhood home is still there. It recently went under contract after it was put on the market. There’s still a museum honoring Earl’s work. It’s in the old school he attended. There’s also a replica B & B there that’s a near duplicate of the familiar Waltons home place from the TV series. If you’re a fan, it’s worth going to see.

There’s seldom a day I don’t think about Earl. It’s hard not to living in the county where he was raised and grew up in his younger years. I don’t get to Schuyler as much as I once did, but when I do I always smile and fondly think of Earl. Or when when I see the mountains I think of Earl.

He was just that kind of person. And I miss him to this very day.


The late Earl Hamner, Jr with me and Yvette at our home back in Greenfield, Virginia in North Nelson County. He and his sister Audrey had stopped by for a visit on this day back in the summer of 2006.

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Downing Of The Lights

Christmas finally came to an official end with taking down the outdoor lights over the weekend.

Bryant, Virginia

It’s always a bittersweet time of the year. After weeks of holiday feels, starting back with Thanksgiving, it finally ends in early to mid January. This year we decided to keep the outdoor lights up until just after my wife’s (Yvette) birthday on January 12th.

Yvette (for upper left) gathered around a makeshift table in our barn during her birthday on January 12th with friends and friends she crosses paths with in the real estate business often.

What’s called the Winter Maple Brook Farm Hogstar Classic signals the end of holiday season. Yvette (sitting) listens intently as our dear neighbor, Rob, holds court! To Yvette’s left is her friend and managing broker, Chas Morgan.

There’s even the celebratory burning of the Christmas tree. We almost always cut the tree from right here on the farm in the Virginia Blue Ridge.

We generally get in the holiday mode in the few days leading up to Thanksgiving. By then pigs on the farm have been processed, the garden is long since done, and it’s more of a laid back time as the long winter stretch settles in for weeks ahead. The end of holiday mode is always signified by Yvette’s birthday.

This past Sunday the last of the decorations came down and got packed away. Almost another year will pass before it’s time to get them back up again.

While it’s sort of melancholy for the lights to come down (my memories go back to all of those innocent childhood Christmases on the farm in NW Tennessee) I do like having it in the rearview. One of the main reasons, summer. I deplore winter. And while I will miss the festive carefree atmosphere of the holidays, I also look very forward to those lightening bugs, long summer days, thunder in the distance, days on the tractor in the fields, dips in the cool creeks here on the farm, and so much more that summer brings.

Until next Christmas …lights out.

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6 Years & 50 Pounds

The varying stages of my weight through the years. My heaviest back in 2013 with my friend Pam. Look at the radial tire around my waist. My lowest weight was 143 back in 2019. I found the happy medium years later where I settled in around 150-155.

Six years ago on this very day I’d had enough. November 6, 2016. My pants were tight, my shirts were tight, I was fat. My blood pressure was bumping into pre-hypertensive territory  and even lying down in bed my heart raced with a pulse of 80-90 beats per minute. Today my heart rate is somewhere in the range of 48-55 BPM, resting.

There it is. November 6, 2016. I started walking. It’s all I could do back then. Even at that slow pace I got winded and could barely do it. Climbing hills required lots of rest in between, but I kept going and going. Good weather, bad weather. I kept going.

I certainly wasn’t going for time. I was just going. Back then I averaged a 30 minute per mile pace in November 2016.

Once upon a time I was a TV weather guesser. I’d actually stopped doing that after years in the Memphis TV news market, but did some contract work here in Virginia after moving in 2004. That’s me on the left around 2015, on air in Charlottesville. On the right a couple of years later after getting serious about fitness.

Once I started walking it took about 6 months before I could run with any seriousness. I would jog the flat spots, rest, then run again. Later I was able to run the hills some, rest, then take off again. Something else I did during that time was stop drinking. Completely at the time. Look, I love having a glass of wine, or two, but alcohol is a killer for weightloss, especially as you age and metabolism slows. I dropped almost 15 lbs from that alone. Now that I’ve hit 60, I almost don’t drink, at all. Not because I don’t like it now and then, but the dent in your progress isn’t worth it to me anymore. Look, I’m not saying don’t enjoy life. You’ve gotta have ice cream and cake too! Otherwise, life isn’t worth living. But you also can’t drink a bottle or two or three of wine a week and expect much. At one time I was drinking 3 bottles of wine a week. You know alcohol belly when you see it, and it’s not pretty.

That’s a bigger photo of the split image above. My close friend Pam on the left that sold me her Jeep. I was my heaviest ever in life there at about 190 pounds around 2012-2013. I would regularly unbutton my pants and just let my belt hold my pants or shorts closed to give me “breathing room.” It was a disaster in the making.

Five years after that photo above with Pam and the Jeep. This was August 2018 after I got my act together. Major difference.

What made me change? Several things. We had kids. That was weighing on my mind. My blood pressure was creeping up. At one point I was about 150/100. I didn’t want to take meds and be a slave to the pharmacy industry. Clothes were tight and I kept having to go up in sizes. I was flat out embarrassed to be at the beach or swimming pool shirtless. My wife was a workout, Spartan, Go Ruck, civilian Navy Seal training disciple at the time. And I was fat. As shit.

Photo courtesy of Paul Purpura – Wintergreen, Virginia : That’s Yvette at one of countless endurance races like this Spartan race in 2013 here in Virginia. She made it look so easy!

But one thing actually made me change and oddly nothing to do with those things I just listed above. They helped make the decision, but they weren’t the light bulb moment.

This woman on the left was the push that flipped my switch. At the time I didn’t even know her. I’d been seeing Renee Everhart’s weight loss progress on Facebook. Renee will tell you, she was grossly overweight, 310 lbs at one time. (That’s she and I at one of the many races we ran after becoming friends. This was one in 2019) Her doctors were recommending stomach surgery and such. She refused and said she would do it on her own. Much over 100 pounds of weight lost over time. Simply put, I said if this person who was morbidly overweight can do this and transform, I can. I looked at my wife that night and said that’s it. I am done living like this. I get started tomorrow.

Renee’s journey was so remarkable we eventually did a story on her in the magazine that we owned at the time here in the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia. Click on the image above to read her complete story online.

Renee Everhart : Fight To The Finish : A Nelson County Firefighter Reinvents Herself


Renee’s story isn’t unique. Neither is mine. But they matter just as much. They show that with the right mindset anything can be done. I’m an amateur compared to what Renee accomplished, but again, it matters.

Before getting in shape hiking to the top of a mountain at nearly 4000′ would have been impossible for me. While this hike with some of my friends here a year or so ago wasn’t a piece of cake, I was fit and could handle it. This is all of us after reaching the top of The Priest mountain here in the Blue Ridge of Central Virginia in September 2019.


I ran alone here on the farm for years. In every kind of weather imaginable. Snow and blowing winds, summer heat and humidity that was just plain nasty.

Cooling down in the stream that runs through our farm during one of those stagnant August afternoons in 2020. You could cut the air with a knife it was so thick.

I never forced our kids to workout. But I made sure they saw me doing it. Often. They’d already been watching their mom for years before me. And then one day back in May of 2021 something happened.

My son Adam asked if he could start running with me. You could have heard a pin drop. I was blown away. And of course I said yes. Now a year and a half later we’re still running together and he’s lifting and working out more than I do! That’s us above back in December 2021 a few months after he started running with me.


Now Adam and I have run a few races together and run often on the trails here at the farm.


Over the years I started concentrating on weight and resistance workouts as well. Over time I was able to add muscle in addition to cardiac fitness. That’s me in 2020 at Kentucky Lake back in Tennessee.

I’m not trying to be a prize winning runner or lifter. That’s never been my goal. I simply wanted to get rid of the annoying weight. Get a decent level of fitness and be able to work around the farm without getting out of breath. The physique was secondary but a definite added bonus.

This is everyday’s business around the farm. Lots of lifting and moving feed and such. If I were in the shape from a few years ago, I’d never be able to keep up today.

The absolute biggest reason to get in shape and stop procrastinating about it. Your family. It just makes life better all around. And, you know you’ll likely be around to see them grow up.


I don’t know if this anniversary reflection will help anyone flip their switch to get started, but I hope it does. One of my best friend’s mom used to say, “You never know who’s watching.” People see what you do. It inspires them. I bet Renee never thought her losing weight would make me get serious. But that was the straw.

It’s been a good six years. Not easy at times. A couple of injuries set me back for a short time. And yes, burnout happens and you take a break, then go back and pickup. But it’s become part of my life now and the landscape.

And a positive one for sure!


The varying stages of my weight through the years. My heaviest back in 2013 with my friend Pam. Look at the radial tire around my waist. My lowest weight was 143 back n 2019. I found the happy medium years later where I settled in around 150-155.



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A Chicken Funeral

Our son, 14 year old Adam, waves so long to his long time chicken friend here on the farm. Henrietta died on Monday – October 24, 2022


Nelson County, Virginia

Once laying hens get old, usually about 3-4 years, they stop laying. On a farm they’ve served their purpose and lived a pretty good life, especially if they are able to get to pasture like ours can. But, once they have fulfilled their mission, they are culled (killed) and they either end up as stew meat, or returned back to the land and nature.

A few weeks ago after we got our new flock of 19 laying hens. Thank you Jay Rostow. (Now 15, bear killed 2. Dog killed 2) it was time to cull the older red hens to make way for the new ones. Our son Adam always had a favorite red hen, her name was Henrietta. He told us when the time comes, she gets a pass until her natural end here on the farm.

The day we culled the old flock two other red hens managed to get away. Adam then told us they get a pass too since they escaped. Fair enough. So the trio became known as Henrietta, Hayley and Heather. Those three, despite not laying eggs any longer will have luxury accommodations for the remainder of their lives at Maple Brook Farm and Chicken Retirement Community. I failed to mentioned we ended up with a Bantam game hen too, her name is Heidi. Adam likes the H names.

Hayley had a close call, she strayed off too close to one of the beagles and had a big bite to the butt! Adam went right to work cleaning up the wound, using peroxide and betadine to make it all better. Within days she was back to her old self and even laid an egg or two to boot! The three reds were inseparable among all of the new black layer hens and the pet white turkey, Bertha.

Adam seeing after his Bantam game hen, Heidi. Summer 2022.

We laughingly call Adam the Chicken Whisperer. He has a relationship with them like none I’ve ever seen before.

Not long ago, Adam came to me one day and said, “I think Henrietta is getting tired. She’s moving slow, and she squints a lot.” I told Adam she’s just getting old and they tend to move more slowly, but she’d be fine. Just a week or so later he came to me in the kitchen one morning and said, “I think she’d dead, can you come check with me?” Sure enough Henrietta had crossed over. She came out of the chicken coop and peacefully died in the field.

Adam looks out over the field where Henrietta took her final breath a few days ago in the fall of 2022.

Adam was saddened, but didn’t cry. He just asked that I dig the grave and she be laid to rest near her other chicken family and friends. So I dug the grave as Adam watched. I did cry. Not over the chicken, but over my son’s loss of his farm friend and his compassion.

Henrietta’s finale resting spot among her chicken family at Maple Brook Farm. October 2022.

Life on a farm is beautiful. But it can also be full of hard lessons. To say I was proud of Adam,  and touched by the care and seeing Henrietta through to the end, would be an understatement. Often all you have to do is just stand back and watch. He saw his friend through from the start to the finish. Well done.

And RIP Henrietta. You were a good one full of life lessons.




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“So Long To All My Friends In Tupelo, Mississippi” – RIP Captain Larry Bell

The Late Captain Larry Bell in a screenshot from a TV news story I was covering in the late 1990s back in NW Tennessee. This was a marijuana eradication he was involved in. My friend from law enforcement and TV news days died Thursday – August 11, 2022 with one of his closest friends at his side.

Dyer County, Tennessee

Larry Bell and I shared an office together in the 1980’s when I was still in law enforcement. We both had moved into administrative jobs, more or less, at that point and it became necessary to have an office together. I sort of knew Larry before. My mother and his wife Linda were coworkers for years. I must admit I wasn’t keen on sharing an office with him. But, by the time I left law enforcement in 1990 we had become such pals from our years in that office discussing everything you could think of.


Captain Larry Bell with the Dyer County, TN Sheriff’s Department mapping out search areas for a missing person in Tigrett, TN. The was in the late 1990s.

Fast forward to my post law enforcement career in TV news covering several states in the mid-south, I continued to run into Larry in a different capacity. But we still got along just like those days back in those small basement office of the Dyersburg Police Department.

Above, Captain Larry Bell clowning around with me just after they had stopped someone in a police pursuit. Larry knew how to be a very serious lawman, but also knew how to keep it light and all of us laughing. 

Years later when I was covering news Larry would always turn to the camera at some point when he could and say, “I’d like to say hi to all my friends in Tupelo, Mississippi.” It cracked me up every time and it became our laughing joke for may more years to come. It stuck.

Larry eventually retired when the sheriff he worked for became the US Marshal for the Memphis district. He and his wife Linda continued to enjoy life, ride horses and do the retirement thing. I’d occasionally get the opportunity to see Larry when I back in Tennessee after my move to Virginia, but it was a rare opportunity.

Larry wore many hats in his law enforcement career. After serving in the military he was a Tennessee State Trooper, eventually a Field Training Sergeant for the Dyersburg Police Department and then Captain (Chief Deputy) for the Dyer County Sheriff’s Department until he retired.

I knew Larry’s health was failing over the past year. Our mutual friend, Joe Markham who was much closer to Larry and his wife Linda, would keep me updated whenever he would go back to visit from his home back in Florida. Joe notified me on Thursday Larry took his last breath with him at his side in a Jackson, Tennessee hospital. Joe and Larry’s sister-in-law were able to get Larry’s wife to the hospital to see him just an hour or so before he passed.

Larry is literally a dying breed.  A true lawman. A true friend though thick and thin. One of the good ones. A good one I will reflect on fondly and smile. Often. Fly high Larry and RIP my friend.

Larry’s funeral and memorial arrangements are being handled by the Johnson-Willams funeral home in Newbern, Tennessee. You can click here for more info as it become updated. 


Captain Larry Bell with the Dyer County, TN Sheriff’s Department making our search areas for a missing person in Tigrett, TN. The was in the late 1990s.

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