-
Archives
- December 2024
- August 2024
- July 2024
- June 2024
- May 2024
- February 2024
- November 2023
- October 2023
- September 2023
- August 2023
- May 2023
- April 2023
- March 2023
- February 2023
- January 2023
- December 2022
- November 2022
- October 2022
- May 2022
- April 2022
- March 2022
- January 2022
- December 2021
- October 2021
- July 2021
- May 2021
- January 2021
- November 2020
- September 2020
- August 2020
- July 2020
- April 2020
- March 2020
- February 2020
- January 2020
- December 2019
- November 2019
- October 2019
- September 2019
- August 2019
- July 2019
- June 2019
- May 2019
- April 2019
- March 2019
- February 2019
- January 2019
- May 2018
- April 2018
- March 2018
- January 2018
- December 2017
- November 2017
- October 2017
- September 2017
- August 2017
- July 2017
- June 2017
- May 2017
- April 2017
- March 2017
- February 2017
- January 2017
- December 2016
- November 2016
- October 2016
- September 2016
- August 2016
- July 2016
- June 2016
- May 2016
- April 2016
- March 2016
- February 2016
- January 2016
- December 2015
- November 2015
- October 2015
- September 2015
- August 2015
- July 2015
- June 2015
- May 2015
- April 2015
- March 2015
- February 2015
- January 2015
- December 2014
- November 2014
- October 2014
- September 2014
- August 2014
- July 2014
- June 2014
- May 2014
- April 2014
- March 2014
- February 2014
- January 2014
- December 2013
- November 2013
- October 2013
- September 2013
- August 2013
- July 2013
- June 2013
- May 2013
- April 2013
- March 2013
- February 2013
- January 2013
- December 2012
- November 2012
- October 2012
- September 2012
- August 2012
- July 2012
- June 2012
- May 2012
- April 2012
- March 2012
- February 2012
- January 2012
- December 2011
- November 2011
- October 2011
- September 2011
- August 2011
- July 2011
- June 2011
- May 2011
- April 2011
- March 2011
- February 2011
- January 2011
- December 2010
- November 2010
-
Meta
SAVING SAM! A Banjo the Dog Story Details
Saving Sam! A Banjo the Dog Story debuts September 14, 2024 at the Mississippi Book Festival (and will be part of the MS Book Festical’s literacy efforts, which are sponsored by ATMOS energy.).
About the book: Banjo, the little brown dog who could, is back — this time on a mission to find his missing friend Sam. With the help of his niece Pip (and a giant new friend too), Banjo battles evil squirrels and discovers the power of friendship, teamwork, and courage. Award-winning cartoonist Marshall Ramsey brings to life an action-packed and heartwarming tale that reminds Banjo — and kids of every age — that families come in all shapes and sizes.
You can preorder at:
Square Books in Oxford. Click here.
Lemuria Books in Jackson. Click here.
Posted in Uncategorized
Leave a comment
Golden Lessons
I’ve enjoyed the Olympics this year. Once again, they celebrate the human spirit and provide the inspiration we desperately need right now. I know I could use some inspiration. I’m a 56-year-old exhausted man who has huge dreams and wants to live his life to the fullest. So while know I will never be an Olympian (although Turkey’s Gen-X shooter Yusuf Dikeç gives me hope), I can’t help be inspired. Here’s why:
- Are you struggling with mental health challenges? Look no further than the G.O.A.T. herself, Simone Biles. Watching her gravity defying performances are stunning. Watching her overcome the twisties, which could have caused her to get really hurt or worse and caused her to pull out of the Olympics three years ago, is inspirational. She got the help she needed and has done the work.
Mental health is health.
- Do you have a physical comeback? Well, check out Sunisa Lee, who in 2023 thought she’d never perform again because of an unspecified rare kidney disease. She fought her back to the medal stand. If they gave a medal for resilience, she’d get the gold.
Be 100% of what you can be.
- Do you think one person doesn’t matter? Check out Stephen Nedoroscik, the pommel horse king, who won a couple of bronzes — and got the American team back on the medal stand after a 16-year-drought. Like Clark Kent, he whipped off his glasses and saved the day.
One person makes a difference.
- Need a role model on how to be a champion? Check out Katie Ledecky . Not only has she got a wall full of medals, she has done it with quiet grace and hard work. She has taken her talent to another level. Even her competitors like her. She likes them, too — and then leaves them in her wake.
Let your work do your talking.
And I’ve just scratched the surface. Sport is a laboratory for humanity. You see the best of us. And you see the worst of us. You can learn a lot from what Jim McKay used to say, “The thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.”
Now back to the games.
Posted in Writing
Leave a comment
Letting Go of the Rope
At my father’s funeral, I told the story of how he taught me to waterski and how it taught me how to reframe life’s challenges. If you ever hear me speak, I tell that story and call it “Grab the rope.”
Here it is in a nutshell:
When I was 8, dad wanted me to learn to waterski. So he put me on a boat and drove me five miles downriver from my grandparent’s cabin on Fort Loudon Lake near Knoxville, Tennessee. After several unsuccessful attempts at getting up, I finally did. When I did, dad turned the boat and slung me outside of the wake. He then turned in a tight circle so I was really flying. Then I hit a stick. I did several cartwheels and a ski whacked me in the head. Dad checked to make sure I was still alive and then made me grab the rope and try again. He wanted to make my story about getting back up, not falling down. Twenty-five years later, he made me get out and walk after my malignant melanoma surgery. He told me that he wanted to make sure my story was about “beating cancer,” not “having cancer.”
That is who my dad was. I’ve used that technique to reframe challenges over the years and try to find chances to learn and grow from life’s “bad moments.”
But there is one part of the story I’ve left out: It’s having the wisdom of knowing when to let go of the rope. If you’ve ever waterskied, you know what I’m talking about. It’s when you get pulled forward in front of your skis and find yourself just being drug face-first behind the boat. I drank so much of the Tennessee River that day that I grew gills. Eventually, I knew when it was time to let go. I think it saved me from drowning.
Letting go is a skill that I’m just now learning later in life. Look, I’ve had a VERY good career. But much of that career has been fueled by anxiety and fear — if you are in the media business, you’ll understand that. The stress has taken its toll over the years — it’s time to rethink how I do things. I’ve prayed for the wisdom to know when to grab the rope and when to let it go. This year has been a wonderfully creative year. I’m doing some of my best work. But I’m really working hard to enjoy all aspects of my life. That’s because your art is a reflection of you. And if you’re broke, your creativity will be, too.
If dad were here, he’d smile and say, “Now you understand.” I’d love to go waterskiing with him. And I’m sure he’d still be skiing if he were with us. He skied at 78, three years before he died. Dave Ramsey was truly an amazing man.
COMING ON SEPTEMBER 14th!
Preorder from Lemuria Books here.
Posted in Banjo’s Dream, Book, Coloring Sheet, Writing
Leave a comment
SHORT STORY: The Pilot
The Pilot: A Short Story
When cars drive past the bright blue farmhouse off of Highway 61 in the Mississippi Delta (the house with the bright yellow crop duster parked nearby), their drivers might notice a giant propeller mounted on the front porch. If they slow down enough, they might also notice an older man sitting on the porch in a worn rocking chair, resting his real leg on a wooden box and fiddling with his prosthetic leg as he watches another crop duster do an aerial ballet across the road. They might wonder what the story was behind this odd scene and that curiosity might cause them to stop. And if they did, they would be greeted warmly by the man, who’d invite them on to his porch for a glass of sweet tea. If they accepted his offer, they’d find out he was a pilot and hear his story of life, death and rebirth. How he had crashed his crop duster, died in the wreckage, saw his dead wife, and miraculously came back to life. As they listened to the cicadas sing, they’d hear the pilot’s war stories: How he’d flown an A-1 Skyraider in Vietnam, had once been considered a hero in an unpopular war and returning from the jungle after being shot down. They’d hear how had come home broken from the war because of PTSD caused by being shot down, lost the love of his life because of his own ego and then her cancer, nearly lost his son to their mutual stubborn pride, and then saved his granddaughter from being lost in the Delta when she was just a toddler. By the time the listener got through the glass of tea, they’d find out that this incredible man had seen what is in the next life as he was calmed by his wife’s spirit while first responders cut him out of the plane’s twisted wreckage.
That wreck had cost him his leg. But it had given him a glimpse into the next world. And that glimpse put this one into perspective.
The pilot did not suffer fools gladly. He understood that every second counts. He did not worship men. He knew the only way out of pain was to face it head on. He knew fences made good neighbors but brick walls did not. And he did not give a sh*t what people thought of him.
He had earned that freedom. His demons had caused him to fly like a madman through the Delta skies chasing Angie’s ghost. Yet, he never found her until his plane lay crumpled and smoking half buried in the rich Delta soil. God, with Angie as His guide, gave the pilot a choice to live or die that day.
The pilot, out of his love for his granddaughter Angie, chose to live. Love brought him back to life. He had finally found his wife Angie, but chose to stay and help raise her namesake.
The traveler would listen to the pilot’s incredible stories and walk away with the understanding that the Devil manifests himself in the form of fear. And that to truly fight it, you can’t turn inward. You must love others. And you did that through service. That this incredible man’s spirit soared higher than any plane could fly.
The propeller was from the pilot’s wrecked Airtractor. Scratched and battered it was all that remained from the day the pilot was truly born.
But the cars and their drivers just passed the blue farm house without stopping. They would never meet the pilot and hear about his incredible journey.
That was their loss.
Posted in Aviation Art, Writing
Leave a comment
The Beach
As the wheelchair stopped in the sand, the old soldier looked out at the calm surf. It was just him, his great grandson, and his memories. He had seen this surf before — but the last time, it was much angrier. A lone gull broke the silence as tears filled his eyes. The sweet salt air was replaced with the smell of vomit, seawater, blood and cordite. Explosions and screams filled his head. Fear froze his limbs. Death was ahead of him — and behind him. Blood and entrails splattered his face and bullets wizzed over his head. There was no cover. It was move forward or die on this Godforsaken beach. The looming rise ahead of him twinkled as machine guns raked every inch of the sand he and his brothers were trying to grab. More screams filled his head. Courage, born out of a deep survival instinct (mixed with training), kicked in. A fighter plane roared down the beach, spraying the hillside with bullets, giving them a brief moment to pull them out the riptide of death. He and his men laid explosives to clear a path through the mines. BOOM! This time the explosion was a gift. He picked himself off the sand and started to stumble forward down the path it had cleared. The man to his right’s head exploded in a spray of blood and brains but he couldn’t think about it the carnage. There would be years to work that out. Now the bunker on the top the hill was his objective. Ducking more bullets, he charged with his rifle prepared to kill. Three grenades from his belt went into the machine gun nest, extinguishing the threat. He pulled his knife and lunged it into the heart of the sole surviving German. He heard the dying man’s life slip out of his lungs with a bloody gurgle. A primal scream woke him from his flashback.
“Grandpa Buck, you OK?”
The old man blinked and was brought back to 2024. Confined to his wheelchair for nearly a decade, he stood proudly on Omaha Beach. This time, he knew he couldn’t cheat death. Time was doing what the Germans could never do. Looking around him, he saw the ghosts of the men who had died on June 6, 1944 running toward him on the beach. Soon, he’d be one of them. He’d concur death’s bluff soon enough. Today, though, he’d enjoy the Freedom that his moment in Hell had given the world.
Posted in Writing
Leave a comment
My Aircraft Paintings (and a few ships)
Growing up in the flight path of Lockheed Martin — Georgia, I was always looking skyward. When the TV show Black Sheep Squadron (starring Robert Conrad) debuted in the 1970’s, I was hooked on Corsairs and drawing airplanes. When I moderated a WW2 aviation panel for the Mississippi Book Festival, I painted two paintings for the authors James M. Scott and Kevin Maurer. That launched a new phase of my “drawing planes” career — painting planes. Here is a collection of my work so far.
Posted in Aviation Art
2 Comments
Masters of the Air: Aircraft from the European Theater
I thought I’d add a few of my paintings of the American aircraft that flew over Europe in World War 2.
Posted in Aviation Art
Leave a comment