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Dalton
Roberts |
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FUN FRIENDS ARE THE BEST
COLLECTIBLES Sparky Brown is one of my favorite human
beings. Reverting to my Roman self, I dubbed him "Spark Plugius"
and he named me "Daltonius Ecstatius." One reason Ecstatius fits me is because I
am ecstatic over having so many interesting friends -- friends like
Sparky who do not fit anyone's mold. Let me tell you a little story
about him. One night he answered a knock at the door
of his East Chattanooga home and there stood a man pointing a pistol at
him. Sparky said, "Aw man, put away that gun. There's nothing in
this house worth you going to the penitentiary over. Come in here
and tell me what's bothering you, and I'll go get us a beer." The man followed him to the kitchen where
Sparky popped them a couple of beers. The man said, "You're one of
them Christians, ain't you?" Sparky replied, "Yes I am but
even if I wasn't I wouldn't want you going to the pen over the little
pile of nothing I've got here." They sat down on the couch and Sparky said,
"Tell me what's driven you to this kind of desperation, man."
The gunman said, "I came home tonight and there was no food in the
house. I just wanted to get some food for my family." Sparky gave
the guy a hug, a prayer and 20 bucks and sent him home to his family. How I wish I could be that calm, caring and
creative under those circumstances. When I was a kid, I collected marbles. I
often feel fortunate to have grown up before television because the idea
of depending on a flashing box for my entertainment and the transmission
of my values does not appeal to me. It is much better to create your own
games and ways of learning. Most boys played marbles in those early
years of my life. We made up the rules, I suppose. I do not recall ever
seeing any rule book for marbles. Over a summer marble season, I would
run across different rules than the ones for the previous year. The main one was that you got the other
guys marbles when you were able to flip your marble and knock his out
of a circle you drew on the ground with a stick. So I walked around all
summer with a pocketful of marbles. I was pretty good because I loved
colorful marbles with little swirls and brush strokes inside. I remember distinctly how I would go
through my marbles carefully at the end of the day when I emptied my
pockets and set aside the most interesting and beautiful ones to keep.
When I went out into the wide world of marbledom the next day, I only
carried the ones I was willing to lose. Recently I have been looking for marbles so
my pet goldfish, Splashy, can enjoy looking at them while she swims
around in her bowl. The gravel in the bottom of her bowl looks so
boring. If you know where I can find some marbles, send me a note. Collecting colorful marbles must have
been a prelude to my habit of collecting colorful friends. Why settle
for some old stick-in-the-mud when you can have a friend who pops a beer
for a robber? A man who remains humble by creating thoughts like
"We're just hot-rod monkeys sitting on a flat rock flying through
space." A man who knows more about the Civil War than Robert E. Lee
and writes stories about it that make little chill bumps walk around on
your hide. A man who stays up all night feeding a sick baby kitten on
his chest trying to keep it alive and sobs his heart out when it dies. A
man who walks you to your car after church and says, "Please pray
for me. I lost one of my kittens last night." Having a friend like that is enough to keep
Daltonius Ecstatius.
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