Columns

“Lord, I want to thank you for my smoking’ hot wife…”

No, I didn’t say it! (My wife warned me if I prayed that publicly it might be my last prayer.)

Those are the words of the Rev. Joe Nelms, pastor of First Baptist Church of Lebanon, Tenn., praying at NASCAR’s Federated 300 Nationwide Series Race in Nashville recently. Pastor Nelms became an instant star on the internet with comments about his prayer ranging from “the greatest prayer ever” to “blasphemous.” 

It is neither.

 “All that had been used to make it a dwelling place, by my folks on back, by Grover and me… all the memories of all the lives that had made it and held it together, all would come apart and be gone as if it never was.”

---from Sold, a short story by Wendell Berry

The rooms were empty by the time I arrived. Except for a few heaps of trash here and there and some stuff no one wanted, it was finished, done.

By Susan Smith
Guest columnist
I walk into my Dad’s office and I see the numerous plaques and awards hanging seamlessly on the walls. Then I look at the man behind them all who wouldn’t brag or boast or take credit for any of them.
Today, I wanted to let everyone know how proud I am of my hero, Deputy Chief Jack Harris, who is retiring after 29 years from the Elizabethtown Police Department.
The final few weeks have brought back so many memories as we browse through photographs and letters of thanks throughout his career.

The race started at 7:30 p.m. Saturday. Leaving Elizabethtown at 1 p.m. should provide plenty of time to reach the Kentucky Speedway and NASCAR’s Sprint Cup debut in the Bluegrass State.

At 2:15 p.m., we were 19 miles from the track on Interstate 71.

That’s more than five hours before the white flag.

At 8:45 p.m. — 75 minutes after the race began — we pulled into the main road leading to the track, still three miles away. That’s 16 miles in 6 1/2 hours. That’s a snail’s pace, not a NASCAR race.