- HubPages Tutorials and Community»
- HubPages, the Community
Hubbers: We Are Our Stories
Life never comes with a ribbon wrapped around it—if it did, that ribbon would likely be tattered to shreds by the time we hit our stride as adults.
Disappointments, hurts, pain, heartaches, and brokenness happen to everyone. We all have to deal with the vagaries and vicissitudes of life. One of the building blocks of my theology is that life is hard.
We become the culmination of our experiences. Our character and viewpoint is shaped by joys and sorrows; laughter and teardrops. We carry scars; we lug around the baggage of bad memories.
We love, we hate, we win, we lose. We each spend long, lonesome hours traversing the valley of the shadow of death.
As D.W. Corn—an alter ego of mine who requires his own story—has said, “Life is what it is, process and preparation for the next turn in the road.”
I sincerely believe that we grow, learn, and experience hope and healing when we connect and share in each other’s stories. We are our stories; we each carry around the stories of our lives, oft-times never realizing the treasures we possess.
The prologue concludes here: This essay is about some Hubber friends who, if the ebb and flow of time and chance would allow, I’d like to meet. This certainly is not an exhaustive list, but rather, a starting point. They’re presented boy, girl, boy, girl in alphabetical order based on the first letter in their moniker.
- 50 Caliber
Just Passin' Through, and it's getting late in the day. Along the way I will wonder, but in the end, I will know. Just an old desert rat, in the middle. . .
50 Caliber a.k.a. Dusty a.k.a. Old Desert Rat is a veteran of Vietnam whose story inspires me. He includes some of his story in Hubs, but also, he lets little tidbits of it slip out in his comments.
By the way, he writes the most genuine and interesting comments. Sometimes they make me smile and other times, I am simply amazed at his insights or blessed by his memories.
50 Caliber has effectively dropped out and plugged into solitude. Some have surely remarked that he’s eccentric, but not me. He’s done what many of us wish we could do.
Dusty lives in a remote area of Arizona surrounded by a wild slice of raw, unbridled beauty. His home is subterranean, though I highly doubt he ever suffers through any bouts of Subterranean Homesick Blues.
Some summer evening, I’d like to sit beside his campfire, sipping something fine while twilight bled into darkness and stars began dotting the desert sky. We’d tell a few tall-tales, and yak our way around life, politics, memories, music, along with a smattering of God-talk.
Join me for breakfast while I cook and talk about social and political issues that range from the serious to the seriously insane!
If ever in need of an idea for a unique recipe, don’t burn too many brain cells trying to come up with one on your own. Simply stop in to chat with Breakfastpop a.k.a. BP, and surely as quick as quick can be you’ll have what’s needed.
BP is a social commentator who’s figured out that humor is required to make sense out of the peculiar lunacy of current events. On each visit, she treats her guests to a drink or some munchies prepared special for the occasion.
Once settled in, she takes on jokers masquerading as public servants or the great pretenders in the mainstream media with a wit that is contagious. While reading her observations on political issues what typically occurs is this: A small grin enlarges to a smile then becomes a chuckling laugh that hangs around for awhile.
Her weekly POP Awards are must reads. The recipients are all well-deserving, with some of them worthy of lifetime achievement recognition.
Just once I’d actually like to be in the audience when Chris Matthews or Al Gore stepped up to accept their POP Award so I could BOO and HISS, while giving the originator of the award repeated high-fives.
H "Big John" AKA Hammer Jammer 1. A simple man who loves God, Family, and Country. 22 years Service in US Army (now retired). . .
Big John a.k.a. Hammer Jammer 1 was one of my first followers, though they were referred to as fans back then. He’s a veteran, which among other things, means that he ought to receive thanks for his service.
He strikes me as a big tough guy with a tender heart and an easy smile. In Old West jargon he’d be one you could depend on for steady leadership when the wagons had to be drawn into a circle.
The Cupboard Drawer Recipe Book is his ongoing series drawn from recipes gathered over the years by his mother. What a sweet way to carry on a family legacy. I’ve found only one problem with the recipes—during this past Advent I think I gained five pounds by simply reading the various special seasonal goodies.
Big John is an independent thinker who has no trouble laying out the perimeters of where he stands. His writings reveal that his views have been processed in the blender of experience and common sense—they’re solid, clear-eyed, and without nuance, which is good because I don’t do nuance.
His take on happenings in the political realm are always interesting. He’s someone I’d enjoy sitting down with for one of those solving all the world’s problems bull sessions—maybe around his kitchen table while having a slice of Chocolate Carmel Nut Cheese Pie.
Cari Jean a.k.a. CJ lives in North Dakota way up near the Canadian border. In the best sense of the description she is a survivor, someone who has overcome obstacles and presses forward with purpose.
In the interest of full disclosure, the seeds of this Hub were planted by one Cari Jean published a couple weeks ago in which she wrote about ten people she’d like to meet. It got me thinking about all my friends in this forum who I only know by their picture and the pieces of their story gleaned from their writings.
When CJ’s fingers tap out an article or tale her feelings are never in reserve. Her passion slides down her sleeve onto the keyboard and into her reader’s hearts.
She and her husband—a transplanted Canadian and hockey fan—have a beautiful five year old daughter named Faith. Cari Jean’s words of introduction to Faith’s Mom’s Blog speak volumes about her outlook and attitude: “FAITH - It’s my daughter’s name and it’s what my life’s journey is all about. I invite you to come along and share in my journey of faith and Faith.”
Some Sunday morning, it’d be wonderful for Anita and me to meet Cari Jean and her family in the foyer of the church they attend. We’d worship our Lord and Savior together, and then afterwards, share precious time at a quiet corner table in a local restaurant.
The chatter would be heartfelt and roll over much terrain. We’d hit upon Johnny Cash, Louis L’Amour, and little Laura Ingalls, and then proceed to those spiritual issues that are the essentials of life.
- James A Watkins
James Watkins is an entrepreneur, musician and writer. James enjoys people, music, film, and books. He is a lifelong student of history and theology.
James A. Watkins
Along with Hammer Jammer 1, Sir James was one of my early followers. When I first checked out his pages, I was impressed big-time, and to be entirely honest slightly intimidated.
James has a breadth of interests that is stunning—there ain’t no flies on his brain. As a lifelong learner myself, I’m an omnivorous reader and researcher, but suspect that my habits in this area pale in comparison to him.
His comments on some of my initial efforts spurred me on in ways that are difficult to explain. Until joining HubPages, most of my writing life happened in a vacuum. The pay-off for me was—and largely still is—the sheer satisfaction that comes when words get translated into view exactly how I see them inside my head.
Sir James provided motivational affirmation. One particular encouraging phrase comes to mind on those gray, murky days when having a way with words feels more like a curse than a blessing. I’d tell you all what he wrote, but then it wouldn’t be my personal pick me up anymore, would it?
Until recently James had been on a three Hub a week pace. He’s cut back to one per week as he invests time and energy writing a book. We all ought to wish him well in that worthy effort, and be prepared to fight over who’ll be first to purchase the sure to be masterpiece on Amazon.
Some Friday evening, I’d like to wander into a tavern where James and his band are playing a gig. It’d be a blast listening to originals along with covers from the mutual soundtrack of our lives.
Between sets we’d hunker down for some serious dialog on history, theology, and music. The talking might become intense into the wee-hours as we crossed over all the places where those topics intersect.
I'm a retired teacher of British Literature, American Literature, and creative writing. Currently, I'm a successful freelance writer. My areas of interest/expertise include animals. . .
Habee a.k.a. Holle is a southern gal who ought to be on a tourism poster with the caption, The Georgia Peach. I hope she receives royalties from the state because she is its proudest spokesperson and cheerleader.
Holle writes prodigiously, covering a wide range of subjects. She is an extremely effective communicator. No matter the material, she explores or explains it in a way that a reader is never dissatisfied.
The tendency is to devour each of her essays because they’re enjoyable learning experiences, often accompanied by a chuckle or two. She makes me want to travel to see the locales she writes about, and despite getting older and more rickety by the minute, her stories about horses stir up a desire in me to saddle up and ride.
My gut-level suspicion is that Habee and her husband Johnny would be great fun at a Saturday afternoon backyard barbecue. Anita and I could bring along some Pennsylvania Dutch dish from her heritage, while Holle dusted off a southern recipe and Johnny fired up the grill.
We’d converse about love, life, and family, proudly showing off photos of and exchanging anecdotes about grandchildren. Night would fall from the sky to the melody of four new friends laughing over the absurd ironies of the human condition.
- Micky Dee
I coalesce the vapor of human experience into a viable and logical comprehension! My hubs reflect different faces of the the same person. They will rock you from the very serious. . .
Micky Dee a.k.a. Bicycle Racer is a free spirit. Maybe Road Racer would be a better, more fitting alias.
However he is known he is a fascinating character. He’s a Vietnam veteran, whose experiences there set him on a path. He returned from the madness—that destroyed lives and ripped apart this nation—to pursue peace and truth.
His motto echoes a first century leader of the church in Jerusalem, so truly cannot be argued over: “Either do good works or get out of the way!”
That is most definitely my kind of theology. It may be bumper-sticker cliché, but it’s riddled with the truth that he seeks. If actually put into practice by all those who gather in church buildings each Sunday, this world would be constantly becoming a better place.
I’d like to meet up with Micky Dee on the road. We’d each arrive at some watering hole or coffee shop at the same time—he on his bicycle, me pulling my car into a parking spot.
Inside, we’d settle across from each other at a cozy booth, away from the hustle and bustle of the joint. Hours would get chewed up and spit out as we hashed over life and talked some philosophy.
- H.C. Porter
Thanks for taking the time to come and see what I am doing here on Hub Pages. Reading my Hubs is the best way to get to know what kind of person I am and what I enjoy in life. . .
H. C. Porter
This Lone Star beauty is what in the lexicon of my memory used to be referred to as a sharp cookie.
H.C. Porter a.k.a. Holly is a mother, writer, photographer, artist, and thinker who experiences life while others simply live it.
Holly has a poet captured in her soul. When she sets that prisoner loose, she must bleed all over her keyboard—her imagery is often gut-wrenchingly poignant. It flows straight from the well of her heart. Her hurts, hopes, dreams, fears, and intentions shine through her words.
Her love for her children is overwhelmingly evident whenever she writes about them. The pictures and snippets she’s shared reveal that they’re bubbling bundles full of energy and mischief.
San Antonio is where I’d like to meet Holly. Anita and I would enjoy hanging out and seeing all the hotspots. We’d connect early one morning, maybe at some hole in the wall café near the Alamo. It’d be a grand day of touring the sites, with Holly leading the way, along with her husband and children.
As the afternoon waned, we’d get H.C. to recommend a Tex Mex eatery, and then all settle in for a fun evening. Over a five-star meal we’d chat about matters of the heart, reminisce on the day, and build some memories to be used as writing fodder.
- Wayne Brown
Wayne is a graduate of the University of Southern Mississippi. He served over six years as an officer in the United States Air Force working as a navigator/flight instructor. . .
A cowboy from Texas, Wayne’s a former U.S. Air Force officer. Since I’m doing the writing here I’m going to give him the alias Midnight because his ramblings are good company in front of a fireplace on dark, lonely nights.
Wayne Brown a.k.a. Midnight is a straight shooter. On a site filled with exceptional storytellers he is numbered among the finest. His turns of phrase and word choices are often note worthy; his characters are real and gut-honest, coming to life almost immediately, and sticking in mind long after their tale’s been told.
If my discernment has any credibility, Midnight possesses what mystics might refer to as an old soul. Someone caught a bit out of time; one who ought to have been born a century or so earlier.
The voice that’s clearly heard in his writing is one clamoring to be on a good horse riding over ancient trails to see new country. With bedroll and gear packed, he eases along with no particular destination in mind. Just a wandering man living stories on the trail. It’s that aspect of his writing that resonates with me.
To meet up with Midnight, imagination and time travel will be required. It’d be on a cattle drive with Charlie Goodnight, or Gus and Woodrow.
The end of the day is near. Cowboys ride in and gather at the chuck-wagon. While eating plates of beef and beans, Wayne and I engage in some tag-team storytelling to entertain the crew. It’s a star kissed night, with suspense thickening the air, only to be burst by a hilarious twist at the end of the narrative that generates guffaws and exclamations.
Greetings in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. It pleased the Lord that He should prepare me for a particular ministry by enabling me to procure undergraduate education in the area. . .
RevLady a.k.a. Saundra is a gentle and compassionate woman whose heartbeat is loud in her writing. She has a teacher’s talent for making complicated ideas simple. There is a practical application to her theology that is admirable.
Saundra leaves thoughtful and thought-provoking comments, which on occasion has sparked an idea that over the course of time germinated into an article for here or elsewhere. She is an encourager, so it is always a joy to read her affirming words.
Her intellect combined with vast experience on the frontlines of ministry imbues her pieces with authenticity. The perspective of Scripture presented is right on because it’s been forged in the real world where textbook answers are not always found.
She is a deep thinker, which is always guaranteed to garner my respect and admiration. There are times when I sit back to rethink her point, turning it over in my mind to meditate on its significance.
Once or twice I’ve had a knee-jerk reaction against her exegesis, but upon reflection, came to comprehend that her reasoned thinking was exact and worthy of a robust amen.
It’d be neat to show up at her home church some Sunday morning—to slip in and worship God alongside her congregation. Then as the service progressed, be intrigued and challenged as RevLady broke the Word of Life.
That’d be the beginning of a face to face friendship, but hopefully not the end. How good it would be to labor shoulder to shoulder with her in some relational ministry effort that made a difference in individual lives.
There they are—ten Hubbers I’d like to meet. My only complaint is that there’s never enough time to keep up with all their work.
Everyone should know that I didn’t contact any of them ahead of time or give them a head’s up. In this case I am going to stick to the canard that says it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
In closing, if you haven’t already done so, I cordially invite you to check out my new website, Wanted Man. The link is below.
All feedback will be much appreciated. And if you’re ever in need of a speaker or seminar leader, please consider me.
- Wanted Man
Wanted Man a.k.a. Ken R. Abell, seeks to be a blessing to others. He's a rake, a rambler, and a teller of tales who understands that there is strength in a story well told and well lived. To learn more, inquire or schedule him, visit this web site.
- Wanted Man: Cash and Dylan
It was nighttime in the last week of March 1970 when I first heard Wanted Man. Pain had become a constant companion. My legs were on fire. I was in traction, laying flat on my back at a slight angle, with my feet elevated. . .
- A Tower Story
The tower of Babel was a ziggurat, with a runway or stairs that went around the edge up to the top. From archeological digs we know that at the top of the ziggurat there was an altar used for pagan sacrifice. . .
- 12.21.2012: The End Is Near
The sky is falling. Today there are a multitude of voices echoing that cry. It's always end times somewhere; throughout history gleaners of secrets have often claimed to know exactly when the universes clock would tick down to doomsday. . .