Wildflowers don't care where they grow

Wildflowers growing in the fields behind Miss Frances' house

Sorry for the radio silence last week.

If you follow me on facebook, you might already know that I left for Mississippi last Monday following the passing of my Uncle, “Big John.”  

I wish so much that you would have had a chance to know him for yourself. His quirks. His stories. His intelligence. His special knack for making statements that could "offend the sensibilities of almost everyone in the room while simultaneously disarming them with humor and intellect."

As my cousin Todd pointed out, in all our years of knowing him, none of us could recall ever hearing him say an unkind word about anybody. It’s an inspiring legacy that will live on far longer than his 63 years. He leaves behind a wife—my beautiful Aunt Pat, a mother – Miss Frances, two talented sisters, an an army of in-laws, nieces, nephews, aunts and uncles, cousins, friends, colleagues, and former students…each with their own personal story to tell.   

I’m hoping once I get back in the swing of things that I can sit down and tell you more about Big John. The world seems a little bit smaller without him in it.