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March 15, 2022

Moving Reflections from a Business Writer


This article was originally published on LinkedIn on December 27, 2021. It has since been updated to include a tribute to my Creative Writing professor from University of Redlands.

Mother's Nontraditional Career


The above squiggles spell out "International Women's Day 2022"​ in Gregg shorthand.

This article was published on LinkedIn on International Women's Day, March 8, 2022. 

Black Jeep in the Family

Personally, black is my least favorite color for a vehicle. It shows dirt easily and it ages especially poorly.

In 2000, I was shopping for a new Jeep. I was upgrading from a green 1995 with a manual shift and four cylinder engine, and had decided on an automatic transmission with the legendary (to Jeep people) 4.0 liter straight six.

Winter is Leaving: It's Time to Come Out

I have a routine with my 22 year old Jeep. It sits in the garage as soon as the weather is too cold for top-down driving — October, maybe early November. Since I refuse to put the top up anymore, it then goes in the garage and stays there until the spring. That’s about four to five months.

Reflections on a '92 C1500 Suburban

 This is a 1992 C1500 Chevrolet Suburban. I bought it in 1995 and finally sold it to a private party in 2006 or 2007.

January 13, 2022

The Ordainment of Cecil Baker Egerton

Dr. Fred Fernando Brown

First Baptist Church

Knoxville, Tennessee

Sunday, December 30, 1951



                  At the direction of the church, a Council of Baptist Preachers met with Cecil Egerton this afternoon. I am going to ask the Clerk of our church, Mr. Russell Parrish, to read the report of that Council. Mr. Parrish:

January 10, 2022

Churches I have Loved (Most of the Time): Cloudy

Editor's Note: The following is an essay and recollection written by my father, Dr. Cecil Baker Egerton, of his first pastorate in Cloudy, Oklahoma, circa 1950.

I will never forget Cloudy. I learned so much there. I don’t know what the place is like now, but over a half century ago, it was a journey back in time to an America that existed long before I was born. Located on a ridge in the Kiamichi Mountains of Oklahoma, it was twenty-five miles from the nearest paved road. As a young man from the city of Knoxville [Tennessee] who was studying in a theological school in Fort Worth, Texas, going there was like using a time machine to visit a vanished world. The women still boiled their laundry in iron kettles on Monday. People drew water from their own wells. The younger kids attended a one-room schoolhouse, while the older kids rode a bus down to Rattan.