Still evolving September 25, 2019

Published by the Times-Georgian–September 21, 2019

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

I’m still learning, at least on most days.

Lord knows I’ve made mistakes and stupid comments since I could barely walk. And thankfully, my beliefs and opinions on every hot topic—socially and politically—including the best fried chicken sandwich continue to change.

Lately, I’ve been watching the Democratic debates where each candidate believes in evolution, except when it comes to people. Joe Biden has been taken to the woodshed by his opponents for positions he took almost 50 years ago.

I’m not running for political office, but if I decided to enter any race the media would destroy me. They would find something stupid I said when I was 12, 15, 22, 26, 31, 38, 44, 47, 49 and every year before and after. Furthermore, the media would dig some information about my views on a particular subject that I no longer have and call me every negative word in the book.

In other words, I’m human.

My views have changed through the years and I expect they will in the future. When I was a young boy and one of my brothers put me in a headlock, I didn’t hesitate to bite him back. I thought violence was often the answer because if I got my teeth into his skin, he would never try to put me in a headlock again. However, he did. And I continued to bite.

I can see the headlines now—“Political Candidate Solves Issues Like a Vampire.”

At the press conference, the media would drill me with questions. “You say you’re not a violent person but you openly admit you bite people.”

“Yes,” I’d say. “But I haven’t bitten anyone in 42 years. It was 1977 and times were different. Children actually got in fights on the playground and the police were not called. Instead, our principal solved the fighting with a wooden paddle he hung on his door. And when children came home, they got disciplined again.”

My guess is one-third of the room would applaud my statement, another one-third would think I’m destined for the Inferno and the other one-third couldn’t give a rat’s fanny what I said.

Have we gone too far with nitpicking every single flaw in our political candidates from things that happened years ago? Of course, some things need to be picked apart. As for other things, I think we need to evaluate the lessons learned along the way.

“People need to stop pretending that if they weren’t alive back then, they wouldn’t have been the same (expletive) as everybody else,” Bill Maher recently said on his HBO talk show. “Yes. You would. I know your parents told you that you were exceptional, but not to the point as to seeing the future.

“You would have driven without seatbelts, and drank when you were pregnant and hit your kids—and hit your neighbor’s kids,” Maher continued. “They did that. If you were around in the 1980s, you would have worn those horrible colors, and the big shoulder pads. You just would have. You’re not Nostradamus. And if you were around in the 1780s and you were rich, white—you likely would have had slaves. The first abolition society in America was founded in 1775 and it had 24 members. Twenty-four people in the whole country thought slavery was wrong the year before we declared independence. Stop being surprised we used to be dumber than we are now. Humans of tomorrow will be horrified by us.”

It’s time we evaluate our tribal mentalities and start following the advice of the opening lines of “The Great Gatsby”—

“In my younger and more vulnerable years my father gave me some advice that I’ve been turning over in my mind ever since,” writes F. Scott Fitzgerald. “Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone, he told me, just remember that all the people in this world haven’t had the advantages that you’ve had.”

In all seriousness, we have a history with a lot of scars and wounds that cut deep. Our nation’s history hasn’t been all “glory, glory hallelujah.” It has, however, evolved, and it’s still evolving which gives me great hope for the future.

I recently watched the movie “Selma” for the second time, and I still struggle with human cruelty. I recalled Hamilton Holmes, the first African-American to attend the University of Georgia, when he addressed my twentieth century history class in 1988. He told us detailed stories about rocks being thrown at him because of the color of his skin. Like everyone else on campus in 1961, he wanted to earn a degree. He did and later became the head orthopedic surgeon at Grady Memorial Hospital.

Furthermore, I’ll forever remember sitting in a room with a holocaust survivor as he spoke about his time in a concentration camp and the harsh conditions from the Nazis. He lived through things no human being should ever experience.

“One can watch Schindler’s List and get a feel for the cruelty human beings can do to one another,” he said. “However, what the movie doesn’t capture is the smell, and the painful journey that will forever live in our souls.”

I don’t know where we’re heading. All I know is it’s important when I disagree with someone’s thoughts or ideas to take a deep breath, listen and put myself in their shoes.

My wife and I lost a child almost seven years ago, and unless you’ve lost a child—you simply have no clue what it’s like. Although our circumstances are a world apart, the same thing goes for those marginalized, discriminated against and so much more through our history. Unless we’ve walked in their shoes, we have no clue.

Experience continues to be my greatest teacher, and I’ve changed along the way. Please don’t label me a conservative, liberal or especially an Auburn football fan.

I’m simply a human being. And yes—I’m evolving, too.

Dooley’s toupee September 22, 2019

Published by the Times-Georgian–September 14, 2019

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

He kept his promise and showed up with a toupee.

In mid-December 1976, the University of Georgia’s football team captured the SEC title, and most importantly beat Georgia Tech 13-10 in front of a capacity crowd at Sanford Stadium in Athens. The Bulldogs had a stellar season beating South Carolina, Alabama, Florida, Auburn, Clemson and others as its only loss occurred in Oxford, Mississippi to Ole Miss.

Before the season began, the Bulldog community grieved the loss of one of its top lineman Hugh Hendrix who died tragically only two months before the start of summer practice. Hendrix, who played for Shamrock High School in Decatur and whose parents Harvey and Carolyn returned to live in their hometown of Carrollton, is credited with providing the key block in one of Georgia’s most memorable plays in school history.

The 80-yard touchdown pass from tight end Richard Appleby to Gene Washington to defeat Florida in 1975 still appears in highlight films, and Hendrix pulled off the line to become the lead block for Appleby’s end-around pass.

“I know his death will have a profound effect on the team,” Georgia head coach Vince Dooley told a reporter before the 1976 season began.

Hugh’s untimely death unified a team, and inspired the players to seek a common goal of winning the SEC title as the Georgia squad dedicated its season to Hendrix.

The 1976 team will also forever be known as the Hairless Dogs. Nine days before the team kicked off the season versus 15^th ranked California, 20 players showed up for practice with shaved heads. Coach Dooley promised them if the team won the SEC title and beat Georgia Tech he would, “shave his entire body.”

He kept his promise when he unveiled a bald head under his toupee at a gathering in Athens following the Bulldogs glorious season. Georgia earned an invitation to battle Pittsburg in the upcoming New Year’s Day Sugar Bowl in New Orleans. Following the loss, the Bulldog players returned to campus while Vince Dooley traveled to the old Burger Chef in Carrollton, which is now La Fiesta next to Billy Bob’s Barbecue.

“It was the biggest celebrity appearance in our lives when he decided to come to Carrollton for an autograph session,” said my friend Sam Haney. “Everyone was excited to see Vince’s bald head because it was one of the biggest news stories of the year. We even got to eat a Burger Chef hamburger while we waited in line to meet him.”

One-by-one, Vince Dooley smiled and signed autographs as he interacted with everyone. I still remember watching his wife Barbara feed his children while they sat inside their wood-paneled station wagon in the parking lot.

I still have the autograph.

Fast forward 11 years later and I would meet Vince Dooley for the second time when I arrived on campus to work as a student assistant in the University of Georgia’s Sports Information Department.

“Coach Dooley, I want to introduce you to one of our new student assistants,” my boss Claude Felton said to him when he walked me on the practice field during my first week on the job.

“Well, welcome aboard,” said Coach Dooley. “You look familiar.”

He’s always been a smooth politician.

“We previously met in 1976 at the Burger Chef in Carrollton when you signed autographs,” I said. “I have a picture with you with your shaved head.”

He laughed, and then had more important business to attend.

Our paths would cross many times during my time during my time working there and I’m 100 percent confident he never knew my name, but I’m OK with that. I hope he doesn’t remember me for the time Claude called me to his office for potential discipline.

The Butts Mehre building on campus housed most of the athletic department and coaching offices when I was in school. It also had two racquetball courts.

As a student assistant, I was given a key to the building. One winter night, snow fell fast and covered the ground throughout Athens. School was cancelled late that evening and my dorm hall decided to have a party.

Around midnight, I told my dormmates—“I’ve got the key to the Butts Mehre building. My former Carrollton football teammate, who’s a sophomore here, works part-time as the night security guard. Let’s go play racquetball.”

We did. And my former Carrollton High football teammate the late Zim Jones, who caught the game-winning touchdown pass from Craig Musselwhite in 1984 to end West Rome’s 37-game winning streak, greeted us at the door.

For the next two hours, my friends and I played racquetball. The streets were dusted with snow so I assumed no one was driving in the storm when all of the sudden we were surprised during a game as we looked through the glass to see Vince Dooley staring at us. He was working late and waved at us as he walked away.

A few days later, Claude summoned me to his office.

“Was that you playing racquetball at 2 o’clock in the morning,” he asked. “Yes. School was cancelled so we thought it would be fun to go play.”

“At two o’clock in the morning?” Claude asked.

“Yessir,” I said. “We didn’t have school the next day so we knew we could sleep late.”

“I don’t care if you play racquetball again,” he said. “Coach Dooley doesn’t want anyone playing that late at night.”

I’m still convinced Coach Dooley never knew my name. However, he obviously knew what I looked like.

A few months later, I was working late at night inside the Butt Mehre building and was the only one in the office. NOTE: I was working, not playing racquetball. All of the sudden I heard footsteps coming down the hall. It was Coach Dooley.

“Do you know how to work a VCR?” he asked me.

“Yessir,” I said.

For the next 30 minutes, we sat together watching examples of Golden Flakes Potato Chips commercials. He had signed a contract to be a celebrity spokesman for one of the company’s advertising campaigns.

After he finished watching the recordings, he looked at me and said—“Thanks for your help. I still can’t figure out how to work one of those machines.”

“Coach Dooley, I want you to know I apologize for being here the night of the snowstorm and playing racquetball at two o’clock in the morning,” I said. “Claude lectured me and I won’t do it again.”

“At two o’clock in the morning?” he said with a smile and then he walked away.

Last Saturday, the University of Georgia finally gave him the overdue recognition he deserves by naming the area between the hedges Dooley Field. Surrounded by many of his team captains from previous teams and his family, he beamed ear-to-ear as the school unveiled the sign for all to see.

He wore a red sport coat and he still has the hair on his head he hasn’t shaven since 1976. His name will forever be enshrined among the Georgia Bulldog greats.

I only hope if he ever needs help with a VCR again, he will contact Claude for my phone number. It’s been awhile, but I still think I know how to work one.

Even if it’s two o’clock in the morning.

 

Biscuits and bluegrass September 10, 2019

Published by the Times-Georgian–September 7, 2019

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

Let me be direct: it’s still OK to eat lard with a clean conscience.

It’s not healthy to go through life skipping bacon and biscuits for breakfast despite the movement of what the late Lewis Grizzard called “The Food Police.” The denizens of political correctness have even listed bread among our stomach’s biggest enemies.

“God is good,” writes Bowdon resident Mike Steed in his 1996 internationally critically-acclaimed and unacclaimed (depending on where you live) book “Cooking With Lard” he co-authored with the late Mike Smith, founder of the Redneck Gourmet in Newnan and famous illustrator David Boyd. “He created man in His own image and He supplied him with the resources to survive. With this Holy arrangement, many special relationships evolved but none more special and sacred than man and hog.”

Since the publication of Steed’s 1996 cookbook, I’ve felt a connection to his love of good food, Grizzard and humor.

In 2012, Bill Oberst returned to Bowdon’s Copeland Hall to perform his one-man show “An Evening with Lewis Grizzard.” As a first-year columnist, I decided to promote Oberst’s impersonation of the South’s greatest newspaper columnist and immediately called Steed, who orchestrated the event for the Bowdon Sertoma Club.

“Do you want to meet for biscuits?” I said.

“Are there Red Devils in Bowdon?” he replied. “Let’s meet at the Southern Lady. It’s the only place in America where the police chief makes the lard-based biscuits from scratch before he leaves for his day job.”

Six biscuits and two hours later, Steed and I laughed as he shared stories of his golf trips with Grizzard and even admitted to being Lewis’s occasional muse when he couldn’t think of anything to write.

“On one trip to Scotland, Grizzard demanded that my brother Bob, cartoonist David Boyd and I meet him immediately in the hotel bar after we arrived,” said Steed. “He said we couldn’t leave until we gave him four column ideas. Once we did, Lewis disappeared and two hours later came back and said—‘I finished four columns. Now let’s go play golf.’”

From 2004 through 2015, the Bowdon Sertoma Club’s Concert Series brought various acts to the area Steed often refers to as “Georgia’s first line of defense should Alabama decide to invade.” Through the years, great acts such as Ralph Stanley, Daily and Vincent, James Gregory, Tim Wilson, Doyle Lawson, Kathy Mattea, Junior Brown, Riders in the Sky, The Atlanta Rhythm Section, Leon Redbone and many more graced the stage.

“Music is one of the richest parts of my life,” said Steed. “When I went off to college at Mercer, I was given a little $30 guitar with a Formica top-back. I put it in a cardboard box under my bed. It was the folk music era, and I would go to fraternity parties and watch where the musicians would place their fingers on the guitar. Afterwards, I would go back to my room and place my fingers in the same spots I memorized to make chords.”

When Steed returned to Bowdon, he became friends with Bill Harvell who played a five-string banjo, and Johnny Jackson who taught him how to play his six-string guitar.

“I also had a lot of exposure to bluegrass through a man I knew named Walter Forbes, who recorded an album titled ‘Ballads and Bluegrass’ produced by Chet Atkins,” added Steed. “All of these people played a major role in me becoming a musician as Jackson taught me rhythm guitar and later Bill helped me refine it.”

Steed’s love of bluegrass propelled him to start traveling to festivals. Little did he realize all of the hours he played guitar alone in his room would become his Wally Pipp/Lou Gehrig moment.

“I met a guy from Newnan named Donnie Lee, who would later become my son David’s father-in-law,” said Steed. “In 1973, Johnny Jackson, my friend Orin Whitman and I attended a festival to watch Donnie, who played bass in a bluegrass band. When it was time for Donnie’s band to play, the band’s guitar player and mandolin player were drunk. Johnny could play mandolin so they asked us if we would could fill-in and join them. I had never been on stage before and was terrified.”

Little did Steed know what awaited after the performance.

“Following the show, the band members asked us if we wanted to play another gig,” added Steed. “After two years, Donnie and I had a partnership in the bluegrass band Bullsboro and for the next 43 years we played everything from hog killings to Atlanta Fulton County Stadium to Jimmy Carter’s victory party.”

Through the years, Steed helped promote Newnan’s annual Bullsboro Bluegrass Festival. In 2012, his band was inducted into the Atlanta Country Music Hall of Fame.

“I’ve always loved music across different genres,” Steed said. “If it’s authentic, I can appreciate it whether its bluegrass or the blues or classic country.”

On Saturday, September 7, 2019 at 6:30 p.m., Bowdon plans to celebrate Steed and his many contributions to Copeland Hall. The stage will be named the “Mike Steed Stage,” and following the presentation the Steed Brothers and friends will perform a free concert open to the public. A reception will follow the concert and donations will be accepted to benefit Bowdon Main Street.

“It will be a night of many local musicians joining together to play some of my dad’s favorite songs,” said Mike’s son Zach. “He’s often said when he hears good music, it makes him want to run around the house naked. We’re grateful he’s promised to keep his clothes on as we fill Copeland Hall with good music.”

Steed’s contributions to our community are many. For 50 years, he operated the Steed Company in Bowdon, which specialized in label making for clothing and serviced clients throughout the United States and even on a global scale.

He’s been an instrumental member in starting KidsPeace where he’s also served as chairman of the board of associates. Furthermore, Steed has served as a director on various local bank boards, chairperson of the Carroll County Chamber of Commerce, a founding director of Carroll Tomorrow and a list of volunteer activities that reads at least as long as Highway 5.

Last week I met Steed and his son Noah for lunch on Adamson Square in Carrollton. We laughed and we all had tears as he talked openly about his recent diagnosis of cancer.

“He’s already defeated cancer once in his life and he’s determined to do it again,” said Noah. “My dad has never been one to seek the limelight, and he’s the most authentic man I’ve ever known. He genuinely loves life, and he loves people.”

Nowhere is that more evident whether we’re discussing politics, religion, women or lard. He’s a man who loves his wife Cheryl, his children Zach, Noah, Loree, David and Wes, his grandchildren, friends, community and he openly admits to liking at least some of his relatives.

His love of diversity, whether its music or good food, clearly reveals his openness to navigate life’s journey no matter what obstacles stand in his way.

“God knows I’ve failed and made mistakes along the way,” said Steed. “I hope somewhere in all of this is an example where I’ve shown my kids how to live. I love life. And I want them to all have a good, productive and happy life. Most of all—I hope they all learn to not take themselves so damn seriously. And if I don’t have a whole lot of time left, I hope to show them how to die, too.”

Steed openly admits he awaits the mystery of life whatever comes next.

“No one really knows with certainty what comes after we leave this world,” continued Steed, who has recently started some promising cancer treatments. “I’ve yet to meet the person who has all of the answers. Maybe I’ll walk the streets of gold, and that will be OK. Or, I may likely come back as an acorn on a tree, and I’m fine with that, too.”

For 14 years, I read him religiously as a weekly syndicated columnist for the Times-Georgian. It was a no-brainer when I decided to publish my first book “Easy to Love” in 2016 who to call. Mike Steed’s knowledge flowed faster than the Little Tallapoosa River on a rainy day and wasn’t near as muddy.

Furthermore, he wrote my introduction, and graciously whispered in my ear at my first book signing at Underground Books in Carrollton, “By the way, you sign your name on the second page not the first.” And then, he handed me a felt pen which I’ve used to sign all of my books since.

I’ve eaten biscuits with him (more than once). And last week when our server asked us what we wanted for lunch, I truly realized he’s a man who will never stop living and will always keep evolving when he replied—

“I’ll have a salad.”

 

Still dancing September 2, 2019

Published by the Times-Georgian–August 31, 2019

http://www.times-georgian.com

by Joe Garrett

 

There are no glaciers in Alabama.

And as far as anyone knows, there are none in Georgia. There are bigger obstacles, especially when doctors utter the dirty word “cancer,” and the prognosis calls for only months to live.

“Shock, despair, denial,” said Dr. Bob Reeves, longtime Carrollton resident and retired professor at the University of West Georgia. “Last October, I thought I had pulled a muscle in my back because I ran five major races in the months preceding including the Peachtree Road Race. I thought it would go away but the pain got worse.

“Following back surgery, I received a call from someone on the phone saying that dreaded word, and my mind began to whirl—‘What about provisions for my family?’ ‘How soon?’ “Is it curable or not?’ ‘What comes next?’”

Gradually, the feared truth began to set in for him.

Paul “Bear” Bryant, the late Alabama Crimson Tide football coach, once said—“When you get in the endzone, act like you’ve been there before.”

This isn’t the first time Reeves has been hit hard. Born in Demopolis, Alabama in 1937, Reeves starred on his high school football team as an offensive guard. His coach had such faith in him he also appointed him the offensive line coach while he played his senior year.

“I had one bar as a facemask my senior year, but before then we didn’t have facemasks on our helmets,” said Reeves as he showed me a little scar still visible on the side of his nose. “We got a lot of good eye gauging and thumbs up our noses.”

Reeves excelled in football. He received offers from Alabama, Auburn, North Alabama, Troy, Jacksonville State and Livingston. When he decided to make a decision, he realized he wasn’t going to play forever and accepted an offer from the University of the South in Sewanee, Tennessee.

“I said to myself, ‘There’s more to life than this (football),’” said Reeves. “So, I went to Sewanee for academics.”

Little did Reeves know at that time he would break his back during spring practice his freshman year where he spent the next six weeks in the hospital. His football career was finished.

“It ripped me apart watching my buddies play the next season,” Reeves said. “And I felt like I needed a change.”

After his sophomore year, Reeves made a pact with his father and decided to transfer to the University of Alabama.

“I told my dad, ‘I will complete two years in the school of business and get my degree because you’ve asked me to,’” said Reeves. “In two years, we agreed I would honor my part of the contract and will then evaluate what I want to do for the rest of my life. After I honored my commitment, I decided I wanted to teach and I’ve never regretted it.”

His first teaching stint began in Tuscaloosa where one of his former students was Alabama football star Kenny Stabler. Eventually, one phone call from his preacher would change his life.

“He invited me and a group of guys for Sunday supper,” said Reeves. “He also invited a group of girls and that’s where I met my wife Angela. We didn’t date for three years following that evening, but eventually we started going out and dancing. Since then, we’ve been together for the last 56 years, and our biggest joy has been our daughter Louise.”

Bob Reeves has been dancing all of his life.

When he was in the fifth grade, he would run across town during his one-hour lunch break and take dance lessons from a local instructor. He learned everything from square dancing to ballroom dancing and as music evolved, he mastered the jitterbug and eventually the tango.

His passion of dancing combined with his love of athletics and teaching provided the compass Reeves continues to live day-by-day.

“Show class, have pride, and display character,” said the late Bear Bryant. “If you do, winning takes care of itself.”

In 1968, he accepted a position to teach physical education at West Georgia College. For the next 27 years, he taught a wide variety of courses at all levels. His areas of particular interest were tests and measurements, elementary physical education and dance. For seven years, he served as the head coach for both the men’s and women’s tennis teams.

“Dr. Reeves had a reputation as a great teacher,” said his former student Johnny Tanner. “He was demanding in class and everyone loved him. One thing for sure is he wasn’t an easy A.”

Although his written exams are well-remembered for their difficulty, his physical exams took his testing skills to another level.

“One quarter I was teaching a self-defense class,” said Reeves, who holds a brown belt in judo. “For the final exam, my students had to defend themselves from a sneak attack. We put the mats out behind the bleachers and I would hide somewhere and surprise a student in which he or she was to perform a self-defense move on me that would take me to the ground.

“During one of the exams, I hid behind a wall and was prepared to do another sneak attack on the next student in line,” Reeves continued. “Instead of me going to the mat, this person fell to the ground and began to scream. It was supposed to be one of my students, but it was a faculty friend who had to deliver something to me. The class was on the floor dying laughing and thankfully, my friend got a good laugh out of it, too.”

Outside the classroom, however, Dr. Bob Reeves is simply known as Woody.

“His dad was called Woody, and for most of his life while his dad was alive, my dad was called Wee-Woody,” said his daughter Louise. “The nickname stuck and he’s still called Woody by so many family and friends.”

During my high school years, I didn’t know he had another name as he volunteered with our church youth group at the Carrollton First United Methodist Church. Woody became everybody’s friend and a true mentor who always welcomed any teenager needing an ear to listen or simply hang around and talk about whatever was going on in the world.

“We knew Woody had our back that time a few of us decided to go streaking while on a church trip to Noah’s Ark in Panama City Beach following a toga party,” said Phillip Wiggins, who was a member of the youth group. “He was on duty that night as our counselor and instead of getting on to us, he couldn’t even discipline us because he was laughing so hard when we ran past him wearing nothing but a smile.”

Following his retirement, Reeves worked until last year as a personal trainer at Club Fitness and taught ballroom dancing as a continuing education course through the University of West Georgia. He’s played an active role volunteering in our community, civic and church organizations. As a longtime member of the Kiwanis Club, interim coach of the Bluefin Swim Team, Sunday school teacher and mentoring a special education student, he’s never stopped helping people.

“Woody Reeves will give you the shirt off his back,” my mom, who lived 50 years as his neighbor, often said. “We can call him in the middle of the night if we ever need help, and he’ll show up.”

It’s hard to understand why bad things happen to good people? I’ll never quit asking that question.

“What happened yesterday is history,” current Alabama coach Nick Saban once told a reporter. “What happens tomorrow is a mystery. What we do today makes a difference.”

Reeves isn’t ready to quit.

“I’ve decided to go wide open, and if you don’t see me—it’s because I can’t get there,” said Reeves. “I’ve decided I’m going to wear out. I’m not going to rust out.

“I will miss the many friends I have had the privilege to know over a long career, and I hope they will remember me well, and forgive me all the mistakes I’ve made,” he continued. “Goodbye to my gym friends, former students, breakfast club, Sunday school class, Kiwanis Club, church staff and my high school buddies who made a cross-country trip to give me their support and love. And to all the people I’ve met in my life’s journey. Each person is a tiny candlelight guiding me along life’s treacherous path.”

There’s a favorite devotional of Reeves called “Candles on the Glacier” still guiding him.

“The devotional illustrates that each of us is like a small candle crossing a rugged glacier,” said Reeves. “It’s my desire to present a positive face through this journey, and I hope my small candle of light will help others navigate their life’s glacier.”

Three weeks ago, he received a phone call from a friend.

“Would you be willing to teach me ballroom dancing?” she asked. “I’ve always wanted to learn how to dance.”

“Well, I can’t move very good and sometimes need assistance,” he answered. “But let’s do it.”

Maybe I was wrong. There are glaciers in Georgia and Alabama—and right now Dr. Bob “Woody” Reeves beams the brightest candlelight in our treacherous world. He’s accepted the future and cherishes the past. His faith continues to guide him while he awaits whatever is in store.

As any Alabama fan knows, Bear Bryant knew the secret to what happens next. He made it clear when one’s days are numbered and life begins to take its toll—

“If you want to walk the heavenly streets of gold, you gotta know the password—“Roll, Tide. Roll, Tide, Roll.”