RUSSIAN, FOREIGN MEDDLING (Revisited and revised)

A few months ago I wrote about Russian and foreign meddling in our election and how it was going to be the same in the 2020 elections. It was basically a story about how my ancestors came from Europe and made their way to America and got to the place of where I’m at today. If you didn’t figure it out at least half way through you know that I was writing what I hoped would be a homorous short story of the lineage of life.

At Christmas, thanks to my son and his bride, one of my wishes came true. They had gotten me a DNA test kit to find out my real heritage. I was beyond overjoyed at this since I’ve been wanting to do it for a long time. I know some people think that all that DNA testing stuff is a conspiracy of the government to drive this world toward its one world agenda. If it’s going to happen, and it will eventually, there is nothing that is going to stop it from happening.

I decided that my birthday, December 31st, would be a perfect time to do the test and put it in the mail. They informed me that it could take anywhere from 6-8 weeks to get the test results back. Now I felt like a kid at Christmas. I got up early on my birthday and the first thing I did, per the instructions in the packet, was to get enough saliva to fill up the little tube and seal it up in the bag to mail back. I almost missed getting it in the mail that day. As I stepped out the door to take the prepaid package to the mailbox our mail carrier was already at my box putting my mail in. I had to holler at her and run to meet her so I could get my DNA test sent in. Thankfully she saw me and was gracious enough to wait for me to get to her.

When I did get my DNA test results back I, probably like many others who do their DNA test, was expecting some results and totally shocked at others. There wasn’t any Russian in my ancestry DNA, which really didn’t surprise me. I wasn’t really expecting to have any Russian in me. But what I did have was 75% England, Wales and Northwestern European. That would include Germany, France, Belgium and all. No surprise there. I also have 21% Ireland and Scotland. No surprise there either. My mother’s mother, my grandmother, was very proud of her Irish and Scottish background. She was very familiar with it as was we because she always reminded us on March 17th, Saint Patrick’s Day, that our ancestors came from there.

What really surprised me though was the fact that 3% of my DNA was from Norway. A VIKING! Yes, a Northman. One of my most favorite shows on television is that show that comes on the History Channel, Viking. I should have known I had some connection to them. My wife and I talk about it all the time asking ourselves and each other if we had any Viking in us. Now I know it for a fact. I also know why my son and several of my nephews love to have them big scruffy beards. I’m thinking about growing me one if I can convince my loving bride that I would look cool with one. Since I’m a Viking and all you know. She still won’t let me (and yes, I’m whipped, but not for long. Wait until I tell you what else is in my lineage.)

I have always been very proud of my heritage. It was my upbringing. My parents and grandparents have taught us to be proud of where you come from. I know I’ve had family that fought on both sides of the Civil War and I’m very proud of all my heritage. Now that I know what my ancestry DNA looks like I’m even more proud than I was before. I’ve also got a lot more questions than I did before as well. If you added it all up you would see that I only talked about 99% of my DNA. Now the real shocker is the last 1%. When my wife and I looked at it together we were sitting at the table like I am now. She slammed her hand on the table and looked at me as I looked at her and all she could say was, “I knew it! I knew it!”

The 1% of genetic makeup that shocked my wife and I originated from the Cameroon, Congo and Southern Bantu People. So if you ever wonder what it would be like to cross a Viking with Tarzan you’re looking at him. So from this point forward I’m telling you for your own good you better not mess with me.  You wouldn’t want me to go all Viking/Tarzan on you would you?

Seriously, I am so much more curious now about my family history than ever before. I really want to know all about my heritage. There is nothing in the world about my family tree that I am not proud of. I’m sure there were a few I would cringe at but overall I am very, very happy and proud of my heritage and what my fathers and mothers went through so I can sit here today. I love each and everyone of them. I’ll be so proud to one day tell my grandchildren.

Now we proceed with the process of finding out who we are related to in history. My son is already finding a lot and he has just started.

Yep, that Viking in me is telling me I need to go and do my Polar Bear plunge again. Anybody up for one this weekend? Even if I’m not Russian, as a bona-fide foreigner I too again will be meddling in the next election.

Lo, children are an heritage of the Lord: and the fruit of the womb is his reward (Psalms 127:3 KJV)

Russian (Foreign) Meddling

In 1347, 7 year-old Yuri Androminov moved with his family from Slavonia Russia to Livonia, which is now near modern day Ukraine. Ten years later when Yuri was 17 years old he left his family and moved to Poland. He met a young girl there by the name of Esmerelda Krakow, but he just called her Essie. She was very successful and she started a music group by the name of “The Essie Mays” because they played their first gig in the month of May. He was happy, she was happy. He loved Essie very much and he did everything he could when he could for Essie and made sure she was well taken care of.

Well Yuri and Essie had nine kids. Even though Essie was gone all the time singing and playing in concert halls only one of the kids actually looked like Yuri and that was the youngest one. Of course Essie had done quit traveling on the road so much by then and the band decided to take a break. Anyway, that youngest kid they named Yuri Essie Slavio Krakow Abrihim Androminov. That was their way of celebrating the last child being born between them and their new found faith in Christianity, of course Yuri was in his 80’s and Essie was in her late 70’s when he was born.

Okay, skip ahead another generation Yuri Essie Slavio Krakow Abrihim Adrominov, okay we’ll abbreviate his name from this point forward so no one will get confused, Yeskaa met a beautiful girl by the name of Harmonia Moon Starvensky, (And before you ask: yes her parents were hippies but back then they called them gypsies).

Anyway Yeskaa and Harmonia moved toward their ancestorial homeland of Mother Russia and settled in the little town of Washetonia the capital city of the district of Colonvaskia. But there was much unrest and all the lawmakers decided to make stupid laws and began taxing the colonist heavily. I mean the Colonvaskians heavily. (We ain’t made it to the colonies yet.) Anyway, it was getting harder and harder for Yeskaa and Harmonia to raise their fourteen children. The final straw for Yeskaa was when the leaders threatened to take away all the bows and arrows from normal everyday citizens like Yeskaa. He argued with the leaders that he wouldn’t have any way to hunt for food but they argued back that it’s not fair for the deer and antelope to have to eat berries and grass and no way to defend themselves. And if the deer and antelope have to eat berries and grass then so should we so they won’t get offended and all.

Well, Yeskaa and Harmonia had had enough and decided to pack up their little family of fifteen kids (Yea, they never did know where that fifteenth kid came from, he just showed up one day and never left. And yea, he was a meat eater too.) Anyway, they packed up and left for Germania to get away from all the turmoil. But even in Germania there was fighting and bickering amongst all the people. No one could get anyone to do anything and everyone blamed each other for the country being broke and they argued with the government because this group was getting more than that group so the government had to support all of them.

Well Yeskaa and Haromonia was getting on up in age and had to depend on the government but Germania didn’t have any money to give them so they were at the mercy of their children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, great-great grandchildren, great-great-gre… well you get the picture. They was supported by family until they croaked.

So the great-great-great-great-great, oh not again, one of those many children moved to England and met a beautiful little Irish girl. They married, had children and so on and so forth. So times were getting hard in Jolly Old England. As a matter of fact it was getting so hard they quit calling it Jolly and just called it Old England. Later on they changed the name to Great Britain but the financial market crash was so bad they changed the name to Broke Britain.

This great-great-great, uh this guy and his beautiful Irish wife had four, yes four girls. Could you believe living in a household with five women? No wonder he stayed in the pub all the time. He was tired of having to work hard from paycheck to paycheck each week and so he and his wife decided to move to America. He was the only one on the whole ship that could stand up straight during the duration of their trip while they sailed to America. Huh, go figure. Maybe from the sway of the ship it just looked like he was standing up straight.  The oldest daughter stood on the  bow of the ship, held her arms out wide and shouted “I’m the queen of the world!” but she fell over and they couldn’t save her.

Anyway, the family settled in a suburb of New York in the Irish, German, Russian , Jewish side of town. You know because everyone kept to their lineage with their customs and everything like that.

Each one of the girls got married to a nice handsome fellow. Skip ahead a couple of generations and now all these families done had families and these families had families and so on and so forth.

Then all these kin folk got to bickering amongst themselves because someone said something about someone else to someone who told someone what someone said when someone said they didn’t say it. Well as you know one thing led to another and BOOM! They start fighting each other, I mean literally. Fightin’, shootin’, stabbin’ and blowing things up.

Well one day this pretty southern belle saw this handsome fellow and she smiled and winked at him and batted her eyelashes at him and put on a Barry White album and all that good stuff so he was smitten. And he didn’t want to fight anymore. So they decided to make love not war.

This couple had seven kids. Three boys, three girls and one Indian. Well, he had to come from somewhere down the line. Anyway, skip ahead a couple more generations. All these kids grow up and have families of their own and these families have families. Okay we done went over this.

Well then one day this young man meets a beautiful young lady. She was an only child so surely she and her family were rich and had plenty of money, or so he thought. Come to find out she didn’t but he married her anyway and they had five kids together.

So after the last one was born they decided that this one is the perfect child so they decided not to have anymore after me. I mean him. He grew up and when he turned eighteen it was time to register for the Selective Service and his father took him to the post office to register for the service then he took him to the courthouse to register to vote. And his father told him which political party to register for but while his dad wasn’t looking he registered for the other party.

So here we are in 2018 and the mid-term elections are looming and all I have been hearing about is how the Russians and foreigners have been meddling in our elections. So as a Russian, Polish, Gypsy, German, English, Anglo-Saxon, Irish, Yankee, Indian, Redneck southern I want to personally apologize for meddling in “YOUR” election but to forewarn you this November I will be meddling again and again in 2020.

Have a great day!

A Special Weekend

Sampic1This past weekend my wife celebrated her fifty-something birthday. (Just because I know the correct number doesn’t mean I have to tell you.) Since her birthday was on a Friday I decided to take a couple of days off from work and take her away somewhere for the weekend.

We only tell a select few people where we’re going and we never post anything until we get back, including pictures. Sometime we hardly ever take any pictures at all.

One thing I found out for sure is that my loving wife and bride of 31 years was definitely born on one of the hottest days of the year or so it seems to me. Any other time we would be sitting in the comfort of the air conditioner at home or floating in the pool keeping cool. But that’s okay I was born on one of the coldest days of the year so I guess that makes us even. I’ll tolerate the heat for her since she tolerates the cold for me. Remember back on January 1st when I took my fabulous polar bear plunge? Yea, she was right there with me freezing and rooting me on.

On this trip we decided to take the kids we still have at home with us. That’s our four-legged children. On some rare occasions we’ll take these kids with us on a road trip and yes this was one of those occasions. One thing I like about these kids is that they aren’t asking every few miles, “Are we there yet?” and “What time will we get there?”. Of course our son being an only child never really complained too much anyway while on trips and vacations.

Another thing I found out on this trip was that Sam, our biggest dog, doesn’t like the heat any more than I do. When we stopped at a rest area she would quickly take care of her business and was ready to get back inside the car to the air conditioner but I didn’t complain because I was too.

Some of the biggest things I was reminded about on our road trip was what I heard on the radio. I hardly ever listen to the radio but in our family sedan we have XM radio. Until I heard it on the radio I had completely forgotten that we all still live in a yellow submarine. This weekend my wife found out one of my biggest kept secrets. And once again, until I heard it on the radio I had also forgotten I knew the lyrics to the song ‘Shimmy, Shimmy Ko-Ko Bop’ by Little Anthony and the Imperials. If you’ve never heard it look it up on Youtube. I think that was the biggest laugh we had over the weekend as well. She laughed and smiled and said, “Sing it baby.”

Yes, memorable moments are not just made over a special weekend but they are made every day. If you have small children or grand children treasure each and every moment with them while you can. Not only will you remember it but in time they will one day reflect back on it as well and say, “You remember when…” and the family will share a loving, memorable laugh.

Have a great week and stay Blessed.


Do you remember phone party lines? If you’re old enough to remember how could someone easily forget? If you wanted to make a call somewhere you didn’t just pick up the phone and start dialing. You picked up the receiver and listened first to see if anyone else was on the phone before you started dialing. Today I simply push a button on my phone and a voice comes over and ask me what can they help me with. I would say call so-and-so and it would say, “Calling so-and-so.”

I used to be a walking phone book. I could remember phone numbers like the back of my hand. Those days are slowly slipping by though. Now we look for a persons name and hit the call button. I have to constantly ask my wife and son what are their cell phone numbers when I have to write it down on something.

I’ll never forget in my younger years when I was much more mischievous than I am now. Err, I mean when I used to be mischievous. I would pick up the phone and if I heard anyone on it I would put it back down so they would know that I’m not listening in on their conversation then I would ever so slowly and softly ease it back up and listen in on their conversation.

You could learn a lot eavesdropping on a party line. I was never so sure that someone was ever eavesdropping on me and my friends as well as we talked about what we were going to do over the weekend or who was going to spend the night with who. Or how good-looking Becky Thatcher* looked in her outfit that she wore to school that day. But I definitely heard more than what I should have as a youngster.

One thing we learned about the party line at one place we lived; after every hard rain if one person was getting a call then every one on the line was getting the same call. If one phone on the party line rang then they would all ring. My father had to learn that the hard way when old “Mrs. Johnson” was calling one of her children. She wouldn’t hang up after a few rings she would let the phone ring and ring until someone answered. Finally daddy would pick it up and answer it. To his dismay “Mrs. Johnson” wasn’t really calling any of her children, she just needed someone to talk to and daddy was always the first one to pick up the phone after it would ring fifteen or twenty minutes. After about thirty minutes or so of Mrs. Johnson talking and daddy listening he would finally tell her he had something on the stove and he had to go. That would pretty much be it. She either forgot about calling any of her children or she just changed her mind because the phone wouldn’t ring again for the rest of the day.

Kids and young adults today will never get to enjoy the perils of being connected to a party line. I remember one time I was talking to a friend on the phone and he not being raised as Christian as myself was using his choice words in the conversation. A few days later mama and daddy wanted to remind me that we need to set an example for others to follow and if one of my friends just happen to be using ugly, slang curse words then I should remind them not to be talking like that over the phone.

I’ve always wondered if it was brought up in one of those long conversations that daddy and “Mrs. Johnson” were having. It also made me wonder if someone had been eavesdropping on me and my friends conversation. Why else would mama and daddy pull me aside to scold me for something my friend had said over the phone line. Or should I say the “party” line.

I’m a lot like my father. Even today I still don’t care much for talking very long over the phone. My loving wife has to constantly remind me to call someone.

Now I know what my daddy always said about the “Good Ol’ Days”. There wasn’t too much good about those days. We had some good times and we had some good days but them days don’t compare to the comfort people have today. And of course I’m enjoying more comfort than my father and mother did and they enjoyed more comfort than their parents. People today are living in the good old days, and another generation from now if the good Lord tarries, this younger generation will be telling the next generation the same thing.

There are a lot of things I do miss about those days but the party line ain’t one of ’em.

Do not say, “Why were the old days better than these?” For it is not wise to ask such questions. Eccl. 7:10 (NIV)

*If you were wondering who Becky Thatcher was I would suggest reading Mark Twain’s “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer”.


On January 1, 2018 I did something that I had never in my life had done before.  I had just turned 50 years old the day before (12/31/17) and there was only one crazy thing that I wanted to do in all my life.  I have always watched people take what they call ‘The Polar Bear Plunge’.  I told my loving wife years ago I would love to do that just one time.

Well, Monday, January 1, 2018 was that time.  I told her if I didn’t do it this time I would never do it at all.  She was a real trooper because she hates the cold weather, but she chose to go and support me in my endeavor or quest or whatever else you want to call it. I called it my one-thing-bucket list.

I love a story I once heard.  I don’t know who the original writer was or whether it was just a made up story or a real story but I love the meaning behind it.  It goes like this:

A young man and his new bride was cooking the Thanksgiving meal for the family.  He noticed before she put the ham in the oven to bake she cut big chunks off each side.  He asked her why she done that and her reply was that it was a tradition and her mother always done it.  At the dinner table curiosity got the better of him and he asked his mother-in-law why she always cut big chunks off each side of the ham before baking it in the oven.  Her reply was that it was tradition and her mother always done it.  Now that everyone was talking about the strange tradition all the attention turned to the grandmother.  “Why did you always cut big chunks off the sides of the ham before putting it into the oven to bake?”  Someone asked.  Her reply was, “Because my pan was too small.”

My wife and I met several families down there that had made it a tradition on New Year’s Day to take the plunge.  I saw people as old as seventy, eighty and probably even into their nineties and children as young as eight, nine, ten or eleven braving the elements to do something few people venture out to do in a lifetime.

Why do we do what we do?  If the Lord doesn’t come back anytime soon and I’m here twenty, thirty, forty years from now I want to tell my grandchildren and maybe my great-grandchildren about my polar bear plunge.  Who knows, maybe one day they’ll want to do it and I would want to be a part of that, even if it was nothing more than being a spectator.  I have seen way too many people say they wished they had done something when they were younger.   Sure, we’ve all done stupid stuff when we were young and some people would even say those that take the ‘Polar Bear Plunge’ is stupid or crazy for doing it.  One of my worst fears in life is that if I didn’t do it would I look back years from now with regret?  How many things are we going to look back on with regret in our golden twilight years wishing we had done differently?  Or done at all?  I look back on some things I did or didn’t do with regret now.  I certainly didn’t need or want another.

Now some of those people who said I was crazy and wouldn’t do it with me are now telling me they want to do it with me next year.  I didn’t say I was going to do it again but I’m not going to say I won’t either.  It remains to be seen.  I will say this: I have never felt more exhilarated since I took that plunge in the Gulf of Mexico back on New Year’s Day. Maybe it was something I was so excited to do with a bunch of other people that my adrenalin hasn’t worn off yet.  Helen Keller once said, “Life is either a daring adventure or nothing.”

Do something spontaneous in 2018.  Do something because it’s out of the norm for you. Nothing illegal of course but live life a little and enjoy it.  Don’t sit around when you’re too old to do anything enjoyable and think back and wish what could have been.

“To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven.” Ecclesiastes 3:1 (KJV)

Will You Celebrate The Victory Tomorrow?

The Iron Bowl is over and the Auburn Tigers won the game;
The Crimson Tide went down like a house in flames.
The victory is sweet, bragging rights for an entire year;
They’ll start rolling Toomer’s Corner as they celebrate and cheer.

Fans storm the field as number one was taken out;
“There’s a new number one in the state!” they boast and shout.
The winners are exuberate, the losers are feeling sore;
The defeated quickly leave, making their way for the door.

Will you stay up and out too late to celebrate or complain?
Will you have a headache tomorrow or have other aches and pains?
Will you be too tired from all that transpired today?
Will you stay at home so you don’t have to hear what others have to say?

Will you go to church tomorrow, wearing your team colors with pride?
Will Sunday School consume what someone said on the other side?
Will your thoughts be on the game and not spiritual food you’re being fed?
Will you be too tired and sleepy to hear what the minister said?

Will you celebrate the victory, the victory you can have tomorrow?
Will you celebrate a victory of life, a life without sorrow?
Will you shout just as loud, like you did for your team?
Will you stay away from church and not want to be seen?

Will you celebrate just as much tomorrow for a greater cause?
Will you leap to your feet, clap your hands in joy for it all?
Will you go to church to enjoy and celebrate the win?
I’m not talking about celebrating a ball game, I’m talking about a life free of sin.

Know ye not that they which run in a race run all, but one receiveth the prize? So run, that ye may obtain. ( 1 Corinthians 9:24 KJV )

Have You Ever Welcomed The Struggle?

Some of you that know us know the struggle that we’re facing right now. But the first thought that came to me was that I’ll welcome this struggle with open arms because it is far better than any alternative we could be facing.

I once heard someone say several years ago, “Don’t get angry when you are awaken in the middle of the night by a call that is the wrong number. Be thankful it wasn’t the right number.”

On Monday morning, August 28th I had just gotten to work and settled in for a hard days work when I got a call. Sadly it wasn’t a wrong number it was the right number. The young lady on the other end had a soft, mellow voice. “Mr. Tadlock, this is ——-, a nurse here at DCH Hospital in Tuscaloosa. I wanted to let you know that your son, Josh was in an accident but his injuries are not life-threating. He is alert and talking.”

My first thought was that he was going to need a ride home so I might as well get ready to go up there and meet him. Even though the nurse told me not to do anything until I hear back from them I was preparing to make the hour-and-a-half drive to T-town to pick up my son. I called my boss and told him that something had come up and that I had to leave. I stopped and topped my truck off on fuel and headed out. I wasn’t quiet halfway to Tuscaloosa from Montgomery when the nurse called me back. She said they knew I was on my way up there (I knew I was on my way but how did they know I wondered.) Anyway, she told me there wasn’t anything to worry about but he had injuries in his lower extremities and they needed a orthopedic surgeon to look at him. She told me they didn’t have the surgeon nor the equipment there so they were flying him to the University of Alabama hospital in Birmingham.

So originally I was only an hour away from home when I first got the call, now I’m almost two hours away from home and another three hours away from UAB Hospital. Thanks to a good friend I was able to meet my wife and future daughter-in-law closer to Montgomery and we were able to make the trip to Birmingham in a lot less time. Of course my wife, his mother, was visibly upset but I told her not to worry, “God’s got this.” (Thank you Tamatha for that phrase.) Being a loving parent you can’t help but worry. I told my wife not to worry, but I was telling her not to do the same thing I was doing myself. It’s the emotions I had to keep in check. I knew I needed to be strong for them.  I didn’t tell them they were flying him to Birmingham. I knew if I had told them that they would have been more distraught than they already were. I simply told them they were transporting him to UAB. Not until we got to the hospital that my wife and future daughter-in-law found out that he was flown in.

Well, his injuries were four broken ribs (two on each side), a fractured pelvis, fractured femur, and a broken and dislocated hip bone and joint. Our son had hardly ever been sick except for some sinus problems from time to time. He had a torn ACL his senior year of high school and some other minor injuries playing football throughout the years. He has never had a broken bone. The last time he was in the hospital was when he was about two years old and he had pneumonia. Now he was getting more than what we call a ‘double-whammy’ of it all.

Even though his injuries weren’t life threatening his nerves were becoming another issue. He couldn’t slow down his breathing, even though they kept telling him he needed to, it was causing his heart to beat way too fast. They finally decided to move him to an ICU unit and sedate him until at least after the surgery on his hip.

Well surgery went well and they kept him in ICU for a few days until they got him off the ventilator. He was moved to a room then to rehab. By then he knew what he needed to do and it was all up to him as to how bad he wanted to get back on his feet though the healing process would be slow.

We knew it was going to be a long drawn out thing from the very beginning. Considering the circumstance I wouldn’t trade it for all the gold and silver in the world and I welcome it with open arms. He has a great testimony that he started telling from the time he was able to start talking. After contemplating the situation of what could have been we all know he is very blessed to be alive. There is no such thing as “Luck”.  Every time someone tells us he was lucky we tell them he was blessed.

On August 28th I didn’t have the usual morning conversation with my son like I did most every morning. I always tell him I love him and to drive careful. That’s why I encourage everyone to look at the positive things in life. I encourage it in myself, my family and all those around me. That’s why I try to tell everyone around me that I love them all the time.

Through this whole ordeal I quickly realized that I couldn’t do what God did. I too only have one son and it’s hard to bear to see the suffering he is going through. God could have intervened in his son’s suffering but he didn’t. The Son could have stopped it but he didn’t. And it gives me a lot better perspective of the pain and hurt, not from the son’s view, but from the Father’s view. I am thankful every day. I am thankful that God’s ways are better than our ways and His thoughts are better than our thoughts. I am thankful every day that He is still in control.

If you don’t get anything else from this, know this one thing: Always welcome the struggle before you as it is sometimes better than the alternative.

“For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:9 (KJV)

Previous Older Entries