NORTHWEST GEORGIA GEARS FOR MAJOR OBSERVANCE OF BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA ANNIVERSARY

CIVIL WAR BUFFS TAKE NOTE: The Chickamauga-Chattanooga National Military Park in northwest Georgia will be alive with War Between the States history in September during the observance of the 150th anniversary of the famous Battle of Chickamauga. Tours, re-enactments of the battles, and many other events are being planned for the several day occasion. More information is available at the links below, borrowed from my blogs to simplify your search, If you know anyone who is a Civil War history enthusiast, you might want to share this blog post with them. The battlefield is between Fort Oglethorpe, GA, and Chickamauga, GA, which are south of the big city of Chattanooga, TN, the “Scenic City.” – Toney Atkins

 

The City of Chickamauga (WITH UPDATED COMMENT BY TONEY ATKINS)

The City of Chickamauga
From CityofChickamauga.org **********************

Chickamauga & Chattanooga National Military Park - Chickamauga & Chattanooga National Military Park

Chickamauga & Chattanooga National Military Park - Chickamauga & Chattanooga National Military Park
From the National Park Service, nps.gov Posted by Toney Atkins at 4:34 PM No comments: Links to this post Labels: Battle of Chickamauga, Chickamauga GA  

Civil War Timeline and Special Programs - Chickamauga &

Chattanooga National Military Park
Civil War Timeline and Special Programs - Chickamauga & Chattanooga National Military Park
From the National Park Service, nps.gov Posted by Toney Atkins at 4:21 PM No comments: Links to this post Labels: Battle of Chickamauga, Chickamauga Battlefield, Chickamauga-Chattanooga Battlefield, National Park Service

Walk Through Time At Chickamauga Battlefield Is Sept. 14-15 - 07/08/2013 - Chattanoogan.com

Walk Through Time At Chickamauga Battlefield Is Sept. 14-15 - 07/08/2013 - Chattanoogan.com

Toney Atkins comments: Anyone who wonders why I've posted so much about Chickamauga, GA, doesn't know that I proudly call it my home town. I grew up there, graduated from Gordon Lee Memorial High School and later enjoyed some of the best years of my life teaching many terrific youngsters in grades five through seven at Chickamauga Elementary School (1967-1971). After teaching another year at North Rossville (GA) Elementary School, I vacationed in Florida, where I essentially was handed my first job in journalism, starting as a police reporter, progressing to entertainment writer and editor and then to county and city editor at a mainstream newspaper.

 I lived in Chickamauga for 29 years and occasionally still yearn for the good old days of small town life where the living was relatively carefree, moved at a leisure pace and full of Southern hospitality.

I'm amazed at how much of the town/s history that I wasn't taught when I lived there, but learned about recently. Maybe my teachers tried to inform me, but being a typical kid, I simply took for granted the atmosphere as it was at the time, while every day, I was walking on or driving through a hallowed land that was jam-packed with history, a battlefield where much violence was wrought and much blood was spilled.

The upcoming observances of the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Chickamauga during the Civil War excite me and I want to share that excitement. If you want to visit a small Southern town steeped in history, I encourage you to see Chickamauga.

 (Did you know that the Civil War battle was named not for the town, but for Chickamauga Creek? The area was known as Crawfish Springs during the War Between the States. A crystal clear spring flows from an area just east of the Gordon-Lee Mansion, a plantation built before the war which still stands an historic landmark. The water from the springs eventually flows into Chickamauga Creek.)  

CatWalkChatt - Crystal Springs Print Works in Chickamauga shuttered

CatWalkChatt - Crystal Springs Print Works in Chickamauga shuttered
From CatWalkChatt.com

Toney Atkins comments: Another big piece of my personal history apparently has died. The once bustling cotton mill and bleachery (formerly known as Crystal Springs Bleachery) operated 24 hours a day, and it provided most Chickamaugans with jobs and rental homes. My parents, grandmother, several aunts, uncles and cousins all worked at the plant during the time that I was born and until at least a few years after I was graduated from Gordon Lee Memorial High School. I was employed there as a laborer in the bleachery and then in its laboratory for two years before deciding to attend college. Except for the period of his service during World War II, my father worked at this heartbeat of the town most of his life. A few years after he retired from a supervisory position, he returned to the plant to work as a security guard. Many if not most of my friends and classmates lived in the "mill villages" that were built by the operation, one on either side of the lake that was spawned by crystal clear underground springs that flowed from a cavern just south of downtown. Learning about the business' closure saddens me, but it makes me happy to know that the small town of Chickamauga and its citizenry live on.

The City of Chickamauga (WITH UPDATED COMMENT BY TONEY ATKINS)

The City of Chickamauga
From CityofChickamauga.org

Toney Atkins comments: Anyone who wonders why I've posted so much about Chickamauga, GA, doesn't know that I proudly call it my home town. I grew up there, graduated from Gordon Lee Memorial High School and later enjoyed some of the best years of my life teaching many terrific youngsters in grades five through seven at Chickamauga Elementary School (1967-1971). After teaching another year at North Rossville (GA) Elementary School, I vacationed in Florida, where I essentially was handed my first job in journalism, starting as a police reporter, progressing to entertainment writer and editor and then to county and city editor at a mainstream newspaper. I lived in Chickamauga for 29 years and occasionally still yearn for the good old days of small town life where the living was relatively carefree, moved at a leisure pace and full of Southern hospitality. I'm amazed at how much of the town/s history that I wasn't taught when I lived there, but learned about recently. Maybe my teachers tried to inform me, but being a typical kid, I simply took for granted the atmosphere as it was then and not that every day, I was walking on or driving through a land that was jam-packed with history. The upcoming observances of the 150th anniversary of the Battle of Chickamauga during the Civil War excite me and I want to share that excitement. If you want to visit a small Southern town steeped in history, I encourage you to see Chickamauga. (Did you know that the Civil War battle was named not for the town, but for Chickamauga Creek? The area was known as Crawfish Springs during the War Between the States. A crystal clear spring flows from an area just east of the Gordon-Lee Mansion, a plantation built before the war which still stands an historic landmark. The water from the springs flows into Chickamauga Creek.)

A SPECIAL REMEMBRANCE OF MOTHER -- By TONEY ATKINS (c)

SPECIAL FOR MOTHER'S DAY

Don't forget your mother on Mother's Day on Sunday, May 11, 2014. 
ORIGINALLY PUBLISHED IN TONEY ATKINS' VISIONS column in the Daytona Times, Daytona Beach, FL, less than a month after his mother's death 20 years ago. With minor editing, it was re-published annually in the newspaper for several years because of readers' popular demand.

.                                                      REMEMBERING MOTHER

By TONEY ATKINS

In past years, I have received a number of wonderful and inspiring phone calls and letters about what would become my annual tribute in the Daytona Times to my beautiful mother, who passed from this world on April 17, 1994.

There have been requests to repeat that tribute, at least in part, to share with those who know what it means to have lost a mother and with those who are fortunate enough to still be able to look their mothers in the eyes on Mother's Day and say, "I love you."

This year marks the 18th anniversary of my mother's death and the 18th year that I still get choked up when I pass a counter in a store stocked with Mother's Day cards - especially the giant ones, which would truly have impressed my mom.

I recently traveled back to the town in which I was born to be with my dad, who currently is going through several different health crises which threaten to take him from me, too.

During the last few months of her life, my mother pleaded with me to get closer to my earthly father and to take care of him. He and I, indeed, have bridged a terrible gap that always seemed to be between us for far too many years, so the prayers of a loving mother were answered - and I am grateful. My dad, who took tender care of Mother during her final months, and I both still miss the woman who had a tremendous impact on both our lives.

My mother is eternal now, but in a spiritual sphere where I can't pick up the telephone and call her and tell her how concerned I am about my father and to hear her words of comfort and advice. Oh, how I miss her! Oh, how I realize how much I took her for granted! Time has increased my appreciation and love for her, but she's not here for me to tell her so.

Somewhere in my belongings is the Mother's Day card I had bought ahead of time in 1994 - the first time I had gotten one in years to send early so she would get it on or before Mother's Day, not several days or a week afterwards. "Better late than never," I always said with a laugh as I excused myself and apologized when she inevitably received it late, and she always said she forgave and thanked me profusely.

I still vividly remember the night that I walked into a dimly lit room in a Georgia hospital and looked down at the shell of my mother on the bed. She appeared to be so at peace and looked so much younger than her 74 years.

An hour earlier, she had been struggling for breath as she lay in a coma on a bed in another room in the hospital, with tubes running into her nose and into her arms that seemed brutally bruised by too many intravenous needles. There were fewer of them than there had been before, because they were relatively useless now. The doctors and nurses had told my dad and me that her body was shutting down, its parts failing rapidly, and that soon the few breaths we heard rattling through the room would be silent.

They were right. Her battle with cancer, congestive heart failure and other ailments - especially the stroke that sent her to the hospital for the last time - would be over that Sunday night - three weeks to the day before Mother's Day that year.

The card she never got to see was still in Daytona Beach.

The blessing was that, at least by appearances, she died without apparent agony from the horrible pain she could have been feeling. She had suffered very much. After her last breath, even with the hospital paraphernalia still attached to her, her years of struggle melted away. As her spirit entered a realm free of suffering, her face expressed its relief.

My mother loved me - sometimes, I thought, too much. She never liked my living 550 miles away. I lived under the "curse" of being an only child and being "smothered with love."

She was an outspoken woman, even more so with age. You could always depend on her speaking her mind to anyone and everyone. If you didn't like it - tough! But most people, young and old, including the minister who preached at her funeral, loved her for her simplistic, down-to-earth qualities. They saw her goodness as well as her human frailties, and the minister made special note that she indeed was one of a kind.

My mother was proud of me. It wasn't that I could do no wrong, because she would always be the first to let me know that I often did. But whether she approved or disapproved, she tried to act as though she respected my feelings and decisions.

I was required to send her copies of the Daytona Times (and the Daytona Beach News-Journal, when I was a writer and editor there) so she could proudly show off my writings to her friends and neighbors.

Oh, the many things I miss about Mother! She was always there when I needed someone to talk to. In our long distance telephone conversations, she worried about me, concerned about whether I was eating right, whether I was staying out of trouble and always wanting to know when I was going to get married and give her a grandchild to dote over. Even though I had crossed the threshold of 50 at the time of her passing, I was always her "little boy."

Eleven years later, I still sometimes find it hard to accept that my mother and my best friend is gone and I can't tell her how I feel about her and let her know that she did a wonderful job in trying to raise a good son. (None of my character defects can be blamed on her.)

How I wish I could hug her tightly and talk to her now!

The purpose of this writing is simple. It's not just therapeutic. I hope it prompts each and every reader whose mother is still alive to stop and think about that special woman, to remember her and treasure her while she's here, especially on the upcoming Mother's Day.

Pay her a visit. Send a card. Send flowers. Give her a telephone call. Buy a gift. Make her feel special, because after all, she brought someone special into the world - you.

Most important, tell her you love her while she can still hear your voice. She'll feel good, and you will, too.

-- This tribute by former Daytona Times Assistant Editor Toney Atkins was written and published before Mother's Day, shortly after his mother's death in 1994. Slightly edited to reflect the passage of time, it is dedicated to all mothers everywhere and to the children who love and respect them.

(c) 2005, Toney Atkins / Daytona Times

GET A TASTE OF SMALL TOWN SOUTHERN HOSPITALITY: CHICKAMAUGA's DOWN HOME DAYS

CHICKAMAUGA, GA, SETS DOWN HOME DAYS

CatWalkChatt - Chickamauga s Down Home Days is back Fest set for May 2 4

CatWalkChatt - Chickamauga s Down Home Days is back Fest set for May 2 4

The above link takes you to a story from the Walker County Messenger/CatWalkChatt

Toney Atkins says: Chickamauga, GA-- my home town -- stages the Down Home Days festival every year on the first weekend in May. If you want to enjoy the flavor of a small town, where residents come together for food and entertainment, Down Home Days may be the place for you to kick off the month of May. The event is sponsored by the local Lion's Club. Chickamauga is a few miles south of Chattanooga, TN, Fort Oglethorpe, GA, and the Chickamauga-Chattanooga Battlefield, which Civil War historians will recognize as the site of a major battle 150 years ago during the War Between the States.

The 8 Worst Responses To The Boston Marathon Bombings

Toney Atkins comments on the link from ThinkProgress.org: The outrageous responses given in this story reveal just how idiotic, ignorant, stupid, lying and fear-mongering many so-called Americans have become. They cannot wait for facts before they start conspiracy theories and hate speech about the president and his administration, all based on their lack of brain power and a desire to stir up disharmony in the country. I should not even give them space on my blogs, but intelligent readers need to be aware of what's being said by nutcases who would like to overthrow the country. Those folks who want to kill people cannot be Christians because they disobey several of the major commandments by bearing false witness and wanting to kill -- in this instance without knowing who was responsible for the bombings at the Boston Marathon that killed at least three and injured more than 150 people. They are the war-mongers, and they obviously don't care with whom they go to war.

From ThinkProgress.org:

The 8 Worst Responses To The Boston Marathon Bombings: pThe horror that was the aftermath of the explosions at the end of the Boston Marathon on Monday drew forth some of the best of people. With three dead and more than 100 wounded, dozens of citizens comforted and aided the injured, thousands more offered up their homes to stranded marathon runners. Such national tragedies [...]/p

Astronomers Gearing Up for Possible 'Comet of the Century' - weather.com

Astronomers Gearing Up for Possible 'Comet of the Century' - weather.com

Toney Atkins writes: My week wouldn't be complete without a space weather story with "end of the world" implications, such as more asteroids and comets... and especially a potential biggie ... possibly heading our way from somewhere in the vast reaches of space. Build that bomb shelter and stock up! LOL. Seriously, this is legitimate news to keep you informed. Just think. As you and the world blow up, you can say, "Toney warned me about this."

Link is from the Weather Channel.

SANTA, BUDDY by Toney Atkins

For some reason, Christmas nostalgia has overwhelmed me this year as I approach the end of my seventh decade on this beautiful planet.

As a result, perhaps because of listening to one of my holiday music favorites, “Santa, Baby” by Eartha Kitt, and the male version, “Santa, Buddy,” I decided to write my own letter to the North Pole, not in song or poem, but simply in words:

Dear Santa, Buddy,

I don’t need all the things that the singers request. However, I would really enjoy getting a Roku streaming player, a used car that would get me from here to there and back again, an inexpensive recorder for recording interviews, and I really could use enough ch-ching to put me a few months ahead on rent, a few bills, food and other expenses. The latter would be much more appreciated than fruitcakes or cheeseballs, but that sounds rather tacky when I put it down in words.

Unfortunately, Santa, buddy, I don’t have a chimney or a tree, and there are deadbolt and chain locks on the door, so I don't know how you can get inside my humble abode. But, Santa, buddy, you're the man, and I would bet you can find a way.

Like many senior citizens and younger folks who live in my neighborhood, it’s hard to get by on Social Security payments, and I won’t receive my next one until the day after my landmark birthday. Because of somewhat complicated circumstances that I won’t bore you with, I depend on others for transportation to the grocery store, the pharmacy and the doctor’s office. I’m beginning to look like an old hippie, because I haven’t been to the barber since July.

Please don't misunderstand me. I don’t feel sorry for myself. I like my life despite the few inconveniences, and you should see some of the delicious recipes I’ve developed with Ramen noodles purchased with my allocated $16 in food stamps.

I walk down the hill to the closest convenience store, but the worsening bad back, legs and feet sometimes make it difficult. My eyesight is getting blurrier and dimmer, and that causes frustration when I walk down that hill after dark and find myself off the pavement and in the grass, looking for the North Star to get my bearings.

But I really shouldn’t complain about anything, although my few friends would probably call 9-1-1 if I didn’t. They would fear that I was really sick.

All I have to do is look around me and I literally see neighbors, young and old, who are having to deal with greater hardships than I. Many have health problems, mental and physical. Several younger residents suffer PTSD (post-traumatic stress syndrome) from military tours in Afghanistan and Iraq, and a few others from the Vietnam era may be going through the same thing. Many of my younger neighbors are unemployed and depressed because they have to try to collect unemployment benefits and are sometimes seem to be somewhat self-loathing because they know they are not being productive and therefore unable to adequately provide for their families. Some simply have nowhere else to go. Santa, it would be fantastic if you could surprise all these folks, especially the children, with some canned goods and toys on Christmas Day. And maybe a job offer for the unemployed or under-employed adults in the house who really want one?

I’ve been a fairly good boy this year, Santa, buddy. No alcohol, no drug abuse, no sex, and I can’t remember the last time I kissed someone or that someone kissed me, even under the mistletoe. I’ve tried not to think naughty thoughts, but that's getting easier as memories fade with age. I haven’t stolen from anyone, and I don’t think I’ve been too judgmental, except toward Republicans and those who profess but don’t really practice Christianity. I’ve been grateful for neighbors who occasionally give me a good meal, a ride to wherever I need to go and who show genuine concern about my health and well-being. I hope that you, Santa, will be especially good to them.

Thanks for listening, Santa, buddy. Please overlook your naughty list and sprinkle your happiness-inducing magic mixed in with peace and love over every household.
Your friend,
Toney

***************************************************
Dear God,
Forgive me of my many sins and transgressions, although I guess that is redundant. I pray that I will be a better person, spreading love and peace, and that I’ll continue to fight hate, hypocrisy and bigotry and try to be a giver, not a taker.

Bless my friends, acquaintances, relatives, and even those who might want to do me harm with the surrounding of your mantle of protection and love. Keep them healthy and safe. Bless them with the spirit of love, peace and happiness.

I’d pray to win the lottery, but You have more important things to do in this screwed-up world of ours than to give me a handout of winning numbers in a dream or through a burning bush.

Even though I may have nearly nothing in the way of money or material things, put it in my heart to share what I do have with those who need it more than I. I know that through You, I will always have what I truly need. I pray that I will someday be able to give back even more to the people of the world than they have given me.

Dear God, I pray that your mantle of protection and love will be around this whole troubled world, giving everyone the miracle of peace on earth, just as I pray that your mantle of protection and love will be around me.

I ask these things in the name of Jesus Christ, forever and ever.

Amen.
***************************************************
And dear reader, no matter what your religion, or lack of same, or whatever your feelings about the holiday season may be, my wishes for you and yours are to have a ...

MERRY CHRISTMAS
and a
HAPPY NEW YEAR!

www.toneyatkins.com/

U.S. Government: Apocalypse Not Destroying The World In 2012, So Stop Scaring The Kids

U.S. Government: Apocalypse Not Destroying The World In 2012, So Stop Scaring The Kids

... And we all know that if the U.S. government says it, it has to be true. Let us pray. -- Toney Atkins

History of HIV/AIDS Slideshow: A Pictorial Timeline of the AIDS Pandemic

DEC. 1 IS WORLD AIDS DAY. THE LINK BELOW IS "MUST VIEW" FOR EVERYONE WHO THINKS THEY KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT HIV/AIDS, BUT REALLY DON'T. HIV IS NOT, AND NEVER HAS BEEN, ONLY A "GAY DISEASE" OR "GAY CANCER." UNDERSTANDING THE FACTS IS ONE STEP FORWARD IN ELIMINATING THE SPREAD OF HIV/AIDS. == Toney Atkins

History of HIV/AIDS Slideshow: A Pictorial Timeline of the AIDS Pandemic

REVISED: WORDS, MUSIC FOR A HAPPY HOLIDAY

THIS POST REVISED AT 7:45 P.M. ON NOV. 27, 2012

BY TONEY ATKINS

I couldn't resist finding a holiday playlist on Slacker Radio. I don't really expect Santa to come in a boogie woogie choo-choo train and I refuse to have a blue Christmas.

This year, I plan to focus on the wonderful Christmases past and to create a merry Christmas for myself (even though I won't have any money to buy gifts for anyone, including myself, after the usual monthly expenses; sorry about that).

All I have to do is remember that there are too many people in the world who have nothing. They don't have a roof over their heads; they can't afford a holiday meal; their health may not be good; they may have suffered emotional losses; they may be alone and lonely; they are most likely worse off than I.

I pray that someone will make those folks' Christmas at least a little bit merry and special.

Life itself is a gift. Sharing its positive aspects can make things better for the giver as well as the recipient. Perhaps we can let the spirit of Thanksgiving spread all the way into the new year.

Happy holidays, everybody, and check out a station of some of my favorite holiday music on Slacker Radio:

http://slacker.com/r/2yHLv

(REVISION ON NOV. 24, 2012==I changed to this station after discovering that music based on my personal Christmas playlist at the previously posted link featured too many non-holiday songs. The only way to share playlists in their originally created form seems to be by sending them to people who have a paid subscription to Slacker, which I love, but I promised free. This is a fine, free Slacker station. Enjoy!)

IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN TO THE FREE VERSION OF MY ORIGINALLY POSTED PLAYLIST, WHICH CONTAINS SOME CHRISTMAS SONGS FROM THE LIST, PLUS NON-HOLIDAY SONGS BASED ON THE ARTISTS I SELECTED, YOU CAN GET THE VARIETY SLACKER STATION, ESSENTIALLY PROGRAMMED BY ME, AT:

http://slacker.com/r/jj5qv

STAY SAFE AND STAY HEALTHY THIS HOLIDAY SEASON, AND PLEASE SPREAD SOME PEACE, LOVE AND JOY! www.toneyatkins.com/

TONEY'S CHRISTMAS JOLLIES

THIS POST REVISED AT 5:07 P.M. ON NOV. 24, 2012

I couldn't resist finding a holiday playlist on Slacker Radio. I don't really expect Santa to come in a boogie woogie choo-choo train and I refuse to have a blue Christmas.

This year, I plan to focus on the wonderful Christmases past and to create a merry Christmas for myself (even though I won't have any money to buy gifts for anyone, including myself,  after the usual monthly expenses; sorry about that).

All I have to do is remember that there are too many people in the world who have nothing. They don't have a roof over their heads; they can't afford a holiday meal; their health may not be good; they may have suffered emotional losses; they may be alone and lonely; they are most likely worse off than I.

I pray that someone will make those folks' Christmas at least a little bit merry and special.

Life itself is a gift. Sharing its positive aspects can make things better for the giver as well as the recipient. Perhaps we can let the spirit of Thanksgiving spread all the way into the new year.

Happy holidays, everybody, and check out a station of some of my favorite holiday music on Slacker Radio:

http://slacker.com/r/2yHLv

(REVISION ON NOV. 24, 2012==I changed to this station after discovering that music based on my personal Christmas playlist at the previously posted link featured too many non-holiday songs. The only way to share playlists in their originally created form seems to be by sending them to people who have a paid subscription to Slacker, which I love, but I promised free. This is a fine, free Slacker station. Enjoy!)

IF YOU WANT TO LISTEN TO THE FREE VERSION OF MY ORIGINALLY POSTED PLAYLIST, WHICH CONTAINS SOME CHRISTMAS SONGS  FROM THE LIST, PLUS NON-HOLIDAY SONGS BASED ON THE ARTISTS I SELECTED, YOU CAN GET IT AT:

http://slacker.com/r/jj5qv

STAY SAFE AND STAY HEALTHY THIS HOLIDAY SEASON, AND PLEASE SPREAD SOME PEACE, LOVE AND JOY! www.toneyatkins.com/

MY AUNT BETTE: PRECIOUS, WONDERFUL MEMORIES

BY TONEY ATKINS
I just learned today that one of my two favorite aunts died last Thursday. Her service and burial, of which I was unaware, were several days ago, and I’m left with another hole in my heart.

Bette Dodd, my late mother’s sister, was always a bright spot in my life. Her smile and laughter would brighten a room. From the time she was in high school, this always-beautiful blonde bombshell refused to let me call her “Aunt Bette.” She was Bette to me.

I recall, with a smile, the days when I looked forward to going to the ice cream shop where she worked after school. Then, there was the time she took me to see the original black-and-white version of “The Thing” in the 1950s. Her scream during the climactic scene nearly burst my eardrums.

She always laughed at the way I pronounced the word “familiar” when I was a child. I always said “fame-uh-ler.” Even into my adulthood, she never let me live it down, even though I had long before corrected my pronunciation.

During my crazy adolescent years, I insisted one day that she hop into my old Crosley vehicle to go into the northwest Georgia countryside to meet my latest sweetheart. As we were riding down the dirt road in the middle of nowhere, we both noticed a tire passing us by and going into a ditch. It didn’t dawn on either of us for a minute that the tire had come off my car. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop laughing as I restored the tire to its proper place on the auto, which had seen its better days long before I got it.

She and her husband, the late Willard E. (Bill) Dodd, were generous to a fault. They never failed to be sympathetic when I used them as sounding boards when I had problems at home. As a child, I played with their kids, Ronnie and Marnie, and was so proud of my cousins when they graduated high school and what they later achieved in life.

Although we hadn’t seen each other much during the decades that I lived in Florida, my fondness for Bette never changed. Even when she was in bad health, she was the same old Bette whenever we did talk. I miss her and wish I had visited her more often and that I had been the kind of friend in our older years that she had been when I was young.

My sympathies go out to my cousins and to her friends and relatives. May the beautiful Bette rest in peace. She truly deserves it.

**********************************
OBITUARY FROM THE CHATTANOOGA TIMES FREE PRESS:
DALTON, GA -- Bette Dodd, 79, passed away Thursday, June 14, 2012 at her residence.She was preceded in death by her husband, Willard "Bill" Dodd; parents; brother and sisters.She was a member of Grove Level Baptist Church.She is survived by a daughter, Marnie Dodd, of Dalton; son, Ronnie Dodd, of Sale Creek, Tenn.; granddaughter, Sandy Dodd Zigler; very special friend, Robin Harris; nieces, Susan Tankersley and Linda Johnson; nephews, Mark Dodd, Joe Dodd, Tony Atkins and Mike Bell.A funeral service to honor the life of Mrs. Dodd will be held today at 10 a.m. at the Pleasant Grove Chapel of Julian Peeples with Rev. Bill Walker officiating. Burial will be in United Memorial Gardens.The family received friends at the funeral home Friday from 5 until 8 p.m. Flowers will be accepted or donations may be made to Amedisys Hospice, 1510 N. Thornton Ave. Dalton, Ga. 30720Julian Peeples Funeral Home, Pleasant Grove Chapel, Dalton is in charge of funeral arrangements.

WARFARIN: THE DEATH OF ME?

By TONEY ATKINS

Warfarin, a blood-thinning clot-fighter, is designed to be a life-saver, but I’m concerned that it almost has been the death of me or, if nothing else, has wreaked havoc on my body and brain.

Little did I know that almost exactly two years ago, when I took quite a fall onto concrete and gravel after missing a shaded doorstep, the prescribed medicine (an ingredient of which the early use included rat poison) would be affecting me, physically and psychologically.


Regardless of what some people may believe, I am not a rat and I'm certain that warfarin was not given to me to thin my blood to the point of hemorrhaging to death. But I digress.


A week after the July 2010 tumble, a painfully swollen foot sent me hobbling to the emergency room, where a blood clot was discovered in my leg. After at least seven days of self-injections in the stomach area of shots valued at about $1,000, warfarin became my cross to bear for at least two years.


For those not familiar with warfarin (a generic of Coumadin), it is a pill that thins the blood to prevent clots from forming and helps to dissolve blood clots that have already formed. The purpose is to prevent clots from going to the lungs, heart and brain, avoiding heart attacks or strokes.

The patient has to be monitored by blood work at a doctor’s office or in a hospital because the warfarin levels in the blood have to be maintained at a specific level. This may mean a change in prescribed dosages from month to month, and the individual must observe eating guidelines and definitely avoid certain green vegetables and anything containing Vitamin K. Alcoholic beverages are frowned upon, and warfarin can interact with other medications.

All this became a very frightening reality to me about two weeks ago, when I could have bled out and died if I had suffered a serious cut or even if I suddenly developed internal bleeding from an ulcer or such.

Several months ago, my prescribed dosage had been increased to 5 mg. per day. After a recent blood test, it was increased to 5.5 mg. Another test indicated I should take the warfarin once a day for five days and not take it on weekends. Later, I received another phone call from my physician’s nurse saying I should return to the daily dose.

Those boring details take me to the blood check of nearly two weeks ago. I hadn’t felt truly well for some time, but I attributed that to the natural aging process since I had not changed any habits.

After the lab technician took my blood, we both noticed that where the needle had been inserted bled longer than usual but finally stopped. The blood sample was later sent to an outside lab for analysis. That was on a Tuesday afternoon.

I heard nothing from the doctor’s office on Wednesday and assumed all was okay, except for several bruises on my arm. Thursday morning, however, I received a call from the office of the complex in which I live, telling me that it was “very important” that I call my doctor immediately.

After finally being connected to the proper source, I was told that I “urgently” needed to go to the local hospital emergency room, because the test results showed that my blood was about five times thinner than it should be, or in the technician’s word, “critical.”

Needless to say, I nearly freaked out. I opened a can of turnip greens and a can of cabbage and nuked the Vitamin K-containing vegetables in the microwave. I devoured the food as I contemplated the possibilities before calling 911. After all, the test was done two days earlier. A few more minutes before calling an ambulance wouldn’t kill me – I hoped.

During my nearly six-hour visit to the ER, blood work was done, I received an injection of Vitamin K, and an ultrasound was performed to determine whether I had any blood clots. Fortunately, I was clot-free. Possibly because of my vegetable “breakfast,” my warfarin level was down, but far from being where it should be.

The doctor, who I consider to be very efficient, ordered me not to take any more warfarin until I came back to the hospital the following Monday for another blood test in the lab there. (My luck was staying true to form: My insurance would not cover the test and the cost was about $75.)

What I had thought was real drama was only beginning.

The following day, I called my physician’s office for the results of the blood work. The hospital staff had assured me those results would be sent Monday evening, but the report was nowhere to be found Tuesday afternoon at my doctor’s facility. At the nurse's request, I detailed the visit to the emergency room Thursday, what the doctor there had determined and what I was instructed to do.

The nurse apparently contacted the hospital, had a copy of the report resent and had consulted my doctor. She called me back and said my warfarin level was essentially normal and that I should resume taking the medication at double the amount of blood-thinner – 10.5 mg or 11 mg, I don’t recall exactly.

I literally shouted into the telephone: “What are you trying to do? Kill me?” Somehow, I refrained from using the expletives that were swirling in my mind.

I repeated to her that I had been taking 5.5 mg of the blood=thinner once a day for a couple of months. The prescription that she was about to call in to my pharmacist would be twice as strong, thereby making my blood twice as thin as it was when I was when ordered to go to the hospital. I was more than a little frustrated, upset and frightened about what the pills could have done to my body.

The nurse said she would talk to the doctor again and call me back. Minutes later, she called and revised the dosage down to 2.5 mg per day, which was far more reasonable to me.

Two days later, after I attempted to resume my routine, my hearing was more out of whack than usual and, even scarier, my eyesight was dim, blurry and adversely reacting to light to the extent that I could see a little inside my apartment and even less while wearing my eyeglasses and sunglasses outside. I am also having mild hallucinations in the corner of my left eye.

I have written this while wearing sunglasses because the computer screen is too bright and the print is virtually obscure, so please pardon any dramatic errors. The television screen is also hard to watch.

This major vision problem just started Thursday night. The eyesight is a little better this morning (early Monday), thank God, but I am definitely contacting a physician in case there have been serious developments that may possibly have been caused by the unintentional but prescribed overdose of warfarin. I still don’t feel normal, whatever normal is.

I share this experience because I know of other people who have to take warfarin to prevent blood clots. I urge anyone who, out of necessity, have to take this medication to be tested as per a doctor’s instructions and make sure the prescribed dosage is taken, because there can be numerous effects not outlined here.

Also, do not be afraid to question the amount of the dosage if you feel that it is unreasonable.
Several mistakes sent me to the hospital, and I do not want anyone to have to deal with the possible physical damage and the accompanying, sometimes underlying fear and concern about over dosage or even under-dosing.

My story’s ending remains uncertain. Make sure yours or a friend’s or loved one's is a happy one.

**********

BACKGROUND INFORMATION (from http://www.ehow.com/about_6524045_rat-poison-coumadin.html ):
Warfarin was developed from spoiled sweet clover hay. It was known that in some cases spoiled hay lead to livestock deaths due to hemorrhaging. Researchers at the University of Wisconsin attempted to breed a sweet clover plant that would not cause bleeding in livestock that consumed any spoiled feed made from the plant. This research isolated dicoumarol that was patented as an anti-coagulant in 1941. It was refined and synthesized as warfarin in 1948.

Warfarin was initially used as a rodenticide and rapidly became the most widely used rodent poison in the world. According to the Institute of Traditional Medicine, a 1951 attempted suicide incident where an individual consumed a large dose of warfarin but recovered lead to research concerning the use of warfarin in humans. The first human uses of warfarin, called Coumadin when used in humans, were in 1954 when President Dwight Eisenhower was treated with it after a 1955 heart attack.

Warfarin disrupts the action of vitamin K, a substance that promotes blood clotting, as it works in the body. It also disrupts a number of proteins produced by the liver that also play a part in blood clotting. In rodents this lack of blood clotting causes fatal internal hemorrhaging. In humans, with controlled doses and blood testing, the reduction in the blood clotting function reduces the possibility of some medical conditions.

Read more: Rat Poison & Coumadin | eHow.com http://www.ehow.com/about_6524045_rat-poison-coumadin.html#ixzz1y7Sfz36F

OAKWOOD CHURCH PUTS CHRIST IN CHRISTIANITY

AUTHOR'S FOREWORD: When I originally wrote and posted this commentary in 2011, it was after a number of emotional, health and financial setbacks. That is why I focused on Oakwood Baptist Church in Chickamauga, GA. Some other churches emailed me, asking why I had not mentioned similar services that they offer the needy community. At the time, I felt led to Oakwood, and the spirit and help I received from the wonderful people there impressed me enough to share my experience to let others, and there are many, who are going through difficult times know that help is available from Christians who honor the teachings of Christ by providing food, clothing and other services to folks who, through no fault of their own, are unable to make it from paycheck to paycheck. I was not intentionally ignoring anyone. Large churches, and even smaller ones, especially in the South, offer help to those who legitimately need it. This commentary is designed to inform the hurting people out there that there is assistance, provided in a Christian way, and also to encourage readers to help support these programs with small or large financial gifts, specified to go to programs for the needy. By doing so, your gift may change for the better the life of someone or a family in your community whom you don't even know. What better way to celebrate the true meaning and spirit of Christmas? Thank you for your attention. -- Toney Atkins, Dec. 20, 2013



BY TONEY ATKINS

CHICKAMAUGA, GA -- Oakwood Baptist Church in Chickamauga puts the Christ in Christianity.

Exercising its stated purpose of “loving God, loving people (and) making a difference,” Oakwood Baptist goes far beyond beautiful Sunday singing and sermonizing to spread the true meaning of Christianity by putting Jesus’ words and works into action in northwest Georgia’s Walker County and beyond.

I knew I was in the presence of a loving, wonderful spirit the moment I stepped into the lobby of the church building to have a meeting with church deacons when the multiplying problems of a crisis-filled year led me to seek help that I could not seem to find anywhere else.

Feelings of abandonment, loneliness and destitution were becoming all too common again since I had waded into the swiftly flowing and deepening river of my so-called “golden years.” Retirement from working two jobs most of my life was turning out to be not as I had expected and hoped for my 60s while rapidly approaching the even more uncertain age of 70. (My brain often teasingly deceived me into believing I was still young, but my mischievous body loved to remind me of an otherwise reality -- and it still has that tendency.)

"Murphy's Law" seemed to kick into high gear in July of 2010 when my foot missed a doorstep and I took a tumble onto a concrete walkway, further messing up an already suffering back, breaking fingers and spraining an ankle. A week later, a blood clot was discovered, and I was put on a blood-thinning medication to add to my repertoire of pill bottles in my carrying case. Then came physical therapy and a continuing battle with cholesterol and triglycerides and an appetite for foods that were dangerously loaded with both.

Things got no better in December when my car went out of control on a rain-and-ice-slick road, plowing directly into a power pole, totaling the vehicle and damaging my ego and sense of security behind the wheel. The seat belt, which I had always hated, probably saved my life, keeping my body from taking the full brunt of the steering wheel and my head from smashing through the windshield. Months were to pass before most of the physical pains went away, and some aftereffects still persist. God was definitely with me.

He was also there when a potentially cancerous growth recently appeared on my face and when hospital technicians found that I have a kidney stone that may be too large to pass naturally without a lot of serious pain. At this writing, the latter issues still have not resolved themselves.

Add to all that a deepening financial crisis. I suddenly had to find a new place to live in mid-2011 when a friend, from whom I had been renting a room and  sharing expenses, decided to turn his mobile home back over to the bank and leave because he said he simply could not afford it any more. Being retired and on a fixed income, I chalked up that development. I had to seek affordable housing and to make what I prayed would be only a temporary move into accommodations that I really couldn't afford.

Despite knowing that God was there, taking care of me the best He could, I became more and more despondent, depressed, full of self-anger and an overwhelming sense of powerlessness that I was doing very little to help Him to help me.

In mid-summer of 2011, I was spiritually led to Oakwood Baptist Church to seek any kind of help I could get. For the first time in many years, I was in a position of having to seek charity, and that was painful to my pride.

The church had been much smaller when I lived in Chickamauga as a young man, but apparently it was high on God because it had grown in size, membership and service to the community in comparison to what I remembered.

I felt the Spirit within moments of entering the doors. As I sat in the lobby, awaiting my appointment, one of the choirs was practicing and I had to smile. Long ago, I had sung in a choir. Long ago, I had felt the peace and joy that was welling up inside me. Several people passed, on their way to various activities. All smiled and offered greetings -- not because they felt compelled to, but because they wanted to. For a while, my anxieties were gone, seemingly meaningless. My fears were calmed. I felt good, physically and spiritually.

The deacons with whom I spoke reinforced the down-to-earth, “real people” atmosphere. Like Jesus, they were genuinely concerned about my problems. They didn’t preach at me. Foremost, they listened to me, they prayed with me and they helped me. God was in that room and everyone, including myself, was tuned in to Him.

Any doubt that I might have had about the power of the Spirit of Jesus, the Christ, was gone when I drove home, relieved that people cared, people helped.

The auditorium was packed for the Sunday services that I later attended. The ministers’ words rang true and the music and songs lifted me higher. The crowds smiled.

The church seems to be active seven days a week. I remain amazed at the number of ministries available to members and to the public, including missions to lead and encourage each other as the Body of Christ to go outside the church and be intentional in the area of relationship evangelism. This is performed through such actions as serving the community, as well as organizing short-term mission teams from Oakwood’s congregation.

Oakwood’s Ministry of Hope assists individuals and families in need of furniture and household items.

A church booklet points out that “life change happens best in community. When people gather in groups with a shared mission to pursue God; to love one another; or to serve others, God tends to show up and do amazing things.”  Oakwood’s Life Group ministry offers a variety of groups.

Celebrate Recovery, which meets weekly at both the Chickamauga and Germantown (East Ridge, TN) campuses, is the “perfect place to go to heal from life’s hurts, habits and hang-ups,” a spokesperson said.

Among other events and activities, Oakwood Baptist offers a children’s ministry, student ministries, a worship ministry, the Financial Peace University, a men’s ministry, pastoral care, a singles ministry, a recreation ministry and the Oakwood Christian Academy.

Oakwood is part of the Northwest Georgia Baptist Association with many ministries that Oakwood, along with 70 or so other churches, help to minister in Walker County and around the world, reader Don Taylor pointed out.

Oakwood Baptist also has presented an annual Easter sunrise service in the area of Wilder Tower in the Chickamauga-Chattanooga Battlefield National Park between Chickamauga and Fort Oglethorpe.

Oakwood’s Chickamauga campus is at 115 Oakwood St., Chickamauga, GA 30707, with Bible study and worship services at 9:15 and 10:45 a.m. Celebrate Recovery meets every Friday at 7 p.m., with a meal at 6 p.m. The Gateway campus is at 247 Market Place Lane, inside the Gateway Mall, in Ringgold, GA (just west of Interstate 75). Sunday services are at 9:15 a.m. and 10:45 a.m. The Germantown campus is at 707 S. Germantown Road, East Ridge, TN, where Sunday worship is at 10:45 a.m. and Celebrate Recovery is Sunday at 7 p.m., with a meal at 6 p.m.

More information is available by calling (706) 375-5760 or going online to http://oakwoodbc.org .

 I have never been known to write unsolicited commentaries about a particular church, but I have to say it. The Lord is leading me to testify about Oakwood Baptist and part of what it does in Chickamauga and surrounding communities. It’s “old-time religion” for the 21st century, and may it continue to bless.

Yes, "Murphy's Law" (if it can go wrong, it will) still challenges me, but I  have rediscovered a very special and spiritual way to deal with it, thanks to the folks at Oakwood who practice loving God, loving people and making a difference.

I urge friends, relatives, enemies and other readers who would like to feel some Christmas spirit all year long to send charitable gifts to the Caring Missions fund to benefit the northwest Georgia area's needy at https://e-giving.org/GuestDonation_v5/DonatorPage.asp at Oakwood's web address or send checks or money orders to the Chickamauga church campus' street address listed above. Checks or money orders should be made to Oakwood Baptist Church, with the memo specifying Caring Missions.

You will be blessed as someone less fortunate than you is blessed. This is my personal recommendation, because I know it works.

EDITOR’S NOTE: Writer Toney Atkins was born and grew up in Chickamauga, GA. He accepted Christ as his Savior in the mid-60s. He taught fifth, sixth and seventh grade subjects at Chickamauga Elementary School between 1967 and 1971. He taught at North Rossville (GA) Elementary in 1971-1972, after which he moved to Florida to become a newspaper writer and assistant editor. After retirement, he currently lives in northwest Georgia and can be contacted at toneyatkins@gmail.com or toneyatkins@live.com .

POSTSCRIPT: This commentary, written and posted nearly two years ago, has remained as the overall most read posting on this blog, of which I am very pleased. I stand by my writing and support all churches and organizations that provide physical help and comfort to the poor and the needy in these desperate times for many. -- Toney Atkins, Oct. 19, 2013.

SPREAD PEACE AND LOVE! Don't forget the less fortunate, plus we must continue to remember the troops and their families who are still dealing with the Afghanistan War and veterans of the Iraq War. God bless them all!