Funerals are good for bringing back memories...

I went to a funeral today.  It was for my mom's brother, Marion, but everybody knew him as "Speedy."  I always liked Uncle Speedy.  I would consider him and his brother, my Uncle Billy, as two of the best storytellers that I've ever heard.  I stopped by my Grandfather's grave too while I was over there.  He's buried beside GA 20 across from Philadelphia Baptist Church near Canton, GA in what was known as Buffington Community.  The Air Force Thunderbirds flew over a couple of times while I was there, which I thought was pretty cool. 

My grandfather had 19 kids.  Only 3 of them are left now, Uncle Billy, Aunt Faye, and Aunt Donnie, but we all know her as Dunk.  It was fun visiting everyone and hearing stories.  Even got Uncle Billy on a roll and he told a couple.  Here is one of my favorites...  Papa Weaver (my grandpa) had made him a big batch of homebrew and had it bottled up and hid it all up under the front porch.  Back then the preacher would come around and hold "Prayer Meeting" at different people's houses.  All the neighboring folks would gather around the house where the preacher was meeting and they'd have a service.  This one particular day, it was really hot.  About the time the preacher got going good, they started hearing a POP POP POP noise.  It was the homebrew blowing the corks out the bottle.  

I'll tell you one more.  Papa Weaver loved to pull a joke on somebody.  I've heard countless tales about him doing that.  Uncle Billy told the story about Papa teaching him how to ride a bull.  The first time the bull threw him straight over his horn and down right in front of him.  Papa told him to grab the bull by the tail and hold it over his shoulder.  Billy said that time the bull just run slap through the fence with him.  You would have to hear him tell it though.  Nobody tells a story like Uncle Billy.  

I used to love going to Uncle Speedy and Aunt Mary Ann's.  She made the best Chicken and Dumplings ever.  We were talking about that as I was eating some at Cracker Barrel this afternoon.  I spent many holidays there with them.  I loved to hear Uncle Speedy tell stories about when he was racing.  I can still see that one toothed grin that he had.  As a matter of fact, it was the subject of my first painting.  

In November 2007, I painted my first painting.  SamG #1.  I've put a picture of it below.  I'd taken an online career quiz that said that I should be an artist.  Having never painted before, I bought some paints, brushes and a palette and dug through my shop and found a piece of plywood.  Using the bed of my truck as my easel, I painted a picture of Uncle Speedy and his one tooth to give to my aunt Mary Ann for Christmas.  When I went to sign it, I realized Sam G. was all I was gonna be able to fit there... and it just stuck.  It got merged into one word a little bit later and became SamG.  That's how this whole journey began.

Thanks for all the memories Uncle Speedy.  You fought a good fight for the past 11 months, but now you are home.