David Epps's blog

The Crab Effect

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When I was at East Tennessee State University working toward my Bachelor of Social Work degree, I learned of the “Crab Effect.”

The Crab Effect can be illustrated in the following story:

While vacationing in Florida, a man observed a bucket of crabs on a fishing dock. While all of the crabs were either motionless or squirming at the bottom of the bucket, one little crab kept crawling up the side in an effort to reach the top. Read More»

A rookie no more

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In the police world and in the professional sports world, a rookie stays a rookie for about a year. I’m not sure when the rookie status comes to a close in the motorcycling world, but, if a year is the standard, then I am no longer a rookie.

It has been just over a year since I took a motorcycle riders class and earned my motorcycle endorsement on my driver’s license. Since that time I have put some 12,000 miles on my 1999 Harley-Davidson Road King and have made three extended road trips to other states. Read More»

The Daughters of the American Revolution

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A couple of months ago, I received a call from Susie Morrison who asked if I would be willing to be a guest speaker at the Fayette Starr’s Mill Chapter of the Daughters of the American Revolution. The requested topic would be “The Constitution and God,” since the members of the DAR would be kicking off Constitution Week. I immediately accepted. Read More»

A week of anniversaries

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This has been and will be for me and my family a week of anniversaries.

Last Monday, my wife and I celebrated our 40th wedding anniversary. I referred to the event in church as the “completion of 40 years of a life sentence without parole.”

Guys grinned, women glared: so I guess I am in trouble — again. Read More»

The first victim of 9/11

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Robert Emmett Judge was killed on Sept. 11, 2001. The son of Irish Catholic immigrants, Judge was one of a pair of fraternal twins. He grew up in Brooklyn, N.Y., during the great depression and developed, at an early age, a love for the poor, often giving his last quarter to beggars on the street.

Judge’s father died of a slow and painful illness when the boy was 6 and Judge worked to shine shoes to earn money for the family. At the age of 15, he entered a formation process to become a Franciscan. Read More»

The wussification of American kids

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Back in the spring some bureaucratic types in the Great State of New York announced plans to ban certain kid’s activities on playgrounds. Legislation was apparently introduced to “protect” kids from the horrors of dangerous activities.

What was banned? Games like “mumbley peg,” which all the kids in my neighborhood played back in Tennessee, a game that involved throwing knives? Nope.
BB gun battles, which I also regularly engaged in during neighborhood conflicts in the surrounding woods? Nope.

How about model rocket fights? Those were pretty cool. Read More»

Iran is going to the dogs

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The nation of Iran is going to the dogs. No, they really are. Literally. According to an article in The Wall Street Journal ((July 18, 2011), Iranians are going to great measures to defy an Islamic Republic edict: buying and selling dogs. Read More»

Coach Cecil Puckett

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When I was about to enter the 8th grade, I decided to go out for football at Ross N. Robinson Junior High School in Kingsport, Tenn.

The problem with that was that I had never played football (nor had I been on any organized sports team), had only been to one live football game, and was nowhere close to being athletic.

In those days, not everybody who went out for the team was selected. There were about 35 uniforms and if a student wasn’t in the top 35, he got cut. Read More»

The bridge

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I recently saw that a former high school classmate had a bridge named after him. I don’t recall if I met Joe Meade in junior high school or high school but I do remember that we played football together at Dobyns-Bennett High School in Kingsport, Tenn.

Joe was a year older than me and was as tough as nails. He was ruddy in complexion, had blonde hair that was combed down in a kind of bowl cut, and was very muscular, although not very tall. He also had a distinguishing feature, a silver front tooth that made him look even tougher when he donned his football helmet. Read More»

Listening and doing

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When I arrived at the rifle range at Parris Island, S.C., the home of the Marine Corps Recruit Training Depot, I had never fired a rifle for any kind of score or on any occasions that really mattered.

Oh, I plunked a few tin cans on my dad’s property, but that was just with a .22. The 11-pound 7.62 mm M-14 rifle was something altogether different. It was a warrior’s weapon and the nation was at war. At 19 years old, I knew I was in over my head and my only chance to qualify was to listen to the instructors and do whatever I was told. Read More»

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