The National Football League  lifted its suspension on former Virginia Tech football star quarterback Michael Vick, clearing the way for a team to sign him to play in the upcoming season. Assuming, of course, that any team is willing to sign the convicted felon who ran a dogfighting ring while playing for both Tech and [...]

(Ah, ah) Oh, no, don’t let the rain come down
(Ah, ah) Oh, no, don’t let the rain come down
(Ah, ah) Oh, no, don’t let the rain come down
My driveway’s got a gully in it (my driveway’s got a gully in it)
My driveway’s got a gully in it and I might drown

–With apologies to the Serendipity Singers

Don’t ask. You don’t want to see a grown man cry.

A little while back, a long-time friend, upset over an article I wrote about marijuana, threatened to expose some skeletons in my closet if I didn’t back off on my belief that the drug should remain illegal.

"You better clean up your own house," he said.

Long-time readers of this site know of my past battles with alcoholism. I often write about my struggles with the beast. That, and the fact that I lost a loved one in an accident caused by a driver under the influence of grass, lead to my opposition to the legalization of marijuana and other drugs.

But my position is an opinion: Nothing more, nothing less. It is my belief based on my own personal experiences. People can — and should — agree or disagree. That’s their right.

Yet my friend’s reaction — and threat — surprised me but it wasn’t the only strong one over the article. Some readers threatened boycotts. Other friends cut off communication. Another withdrew an invite to a social function, saying my presence there would make his other guests uncomfortable.

I’m no stranger to controversy. I’ve been stirring emotions with readers for more than 40 years. But lately, I’ve seen disagreement replaced by anger, debate supplanted by hate and discussion pushed aside by threats of retaliation or violence.

It’s not just the atmosphere here in Floyd County. Bitter partisanship divides our governments, road rage is commonplace on our nation’s roads and debates on TV turn into shoutfests.  Emotions run too high and tempers too hot. At Floyd County town council meetings, regular attendees talk about heated arguments between Mayor Rob Shelor and councilman Mike Patton and say their debates have come close to fist fights. A fight broke out recently at an event at Pine Tavern.

We’ve become a contentious society where diatribes become the dialog of debate. It’s not enough to say you disagree with someone’s position. You have to make it personal by calling them names or issuing threats.

I’m not sure where the answer lies, or if one even exists. Perhaps civility has no place in today’s society. Perhaps an extended middle finger or a shouted expletive suffices as communication now.

Maybe we’ve lost the ability to disagree without being disagreeable.

Tempted fate Monday by choosing to ride my motorcycle into Roanoke for a meeting that began at 6:30 p.m.  The National Weather Service said thunderstorms would hit Floyd County around 9 p.m.

The meeting should be over by 8, I figured, giving me just enough time to get home before the heavens opened up.

Wrong.

At 8:30 p.m., I was about a mile north of Copper Hill when the deluge came. With visibility down to nothing and both me and the bike soaked, I eased into J & J Market’s lot, parked under the awning that protects the gas pumps and sought shelter under the roof of the front porch of the store.

Called Amy. She said it was raining at home so I decided to wait out the storm, dry out and change into rain gear for the final leg home.

Over the next 45 minutes, the rain ebbed and flowed but didn’t stop. I could only imagine our driveway washing down the slope once again under the force of all this water.

The rain continued. At 9:30 I climbed back aboard the Harley and headed south on U.S. 221 in the wet, thankful that I had replaced a worn front tire last week. The rain continued to pelt down for the final 9 miles to Poor Farm Road but began to let up as I turned and headed for Sandy Flats.  By the time I got to Greenbriar Lane, the rain stopped and the road was, for the most part, dry.  So was the driveway.

Amy said the storm dumped several inches of rain in our back yard and the woods at the rear of our property but very little on the front yard or the driveway.

When it comes to rain, this has been a strange year.