By Buddy Hazell

Every now and then, someone will ask me if I was raised in Malakoff. I always respond by saying, “No, we came here in 1973. We have left Malakoff several times, but for some reason, God keeps bringing us back.” Some of my dates may be a little off, but what’s a year or two among friends? Here is my story:

I had been preaching for about two years, when I received a phone call asking if I would come to Malakoff and preach in view of a call. My first thought was, “God hasn’t called me to be a Foreign Missionary.” I thought Malakoff was in Russia. I quickly

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By Buddy Hazell

Thirteen years old and I am locked in this old jail. It is hot and dark in here and I am wondering if anyone is going to come and let me out.
Now let me explain:

Rockdale, Texas was founded in 1873, and in 1875 they had a need for a jail. The town’s marshal, Peter Ledbetter, happened to walk into the bank one afternoon and interrupt a robbery. Three men were robbing the bank. One of the men turned and shot Marshal Ledbetter in the shoulder and the marshal returned fire, killing

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By Buddy Hazell

Shortly after the American Revolutionary War, five men and their families settled in the “Valley of East Tennessee.” There were: Hugh Watson and his son Patrick Watson, John Long, William Porter and William Wallace. Patrick Watson

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By Buddy Hazell

When was the last time you saw some kids in a bar-ditch or an old pond crawfishing? Has the age of electronics taken all the fun and joy of growing up from our kids? Our kids today don’t know the excitement of luring a big old Red Pincher out of his hole. Kids today have to have expensive toys, elementary school kids all have iPods, cell phones and computers; they have never had the sense of pride

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By Buddy Hazell

Uncle Emory was not really my uncle; he was my Dad’s first cousin. If you have read my book, and read my salvation experience, Uncle Emory was the elderly man who knelt behind me and prayed this word-for-word prayer, “Speak to Him Jesus,” “Speak to Him Jesus”, over and over.

I call him “Uncle,” because when I was a kid, we were taught not to call our elders by

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By Buddy Hazell

I was about 14 years old and was staying with Dave and Nettie for the summer. R.E.A. Had made it possible for people in rural Milam County to have electricity and telephone service. Dave signed up for both and it wasn’t long before trucks and men began setting poles for the light wires, but the telephone service would come later.

The light company sent a man out to wire the house, and because the house was built with logs, the wiring was all exposed with pull-string switches. As soon as the man finished the wiring, Nettie made Dave go to town and buy an electric refrigerator. Nettie thought this refrigerator was made in Heaven. She could keep milk, eggs and butter cold in the summertime, and no more putting these things in the well bucket and lowering them

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Everyone knows someone who is famous. I want to share several people from my past that “Made it Big.” Some of these you will readily recognize and perhaps not, but I have some fond memories of each of them.

Hank Lockin was a country singer who had a radio show every Saturday morning on radio station KLEE in downtown Houston. I would ride the streetcar into town every Saturday to sit in the studio as he sang. We soon became friends and he inspired me to sing, in spite of my stuttering.

Dan Rather and I went through school together, and at Reagan High School in Houston we

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By Clayton “Buddy” Hazell

I was 12 years old when I got my first bicycle. There was a boy, whose name I can’t remember, even though he lived behind us and we played together. For the sake of a name, I will refer to him as Kenneth.

Kenneth had received a new bicycle for Christmas and offered to sell me his old one for $10. Times were hard, and there

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By Buddy Hazell

Not too many of you out there have experienced the excitement of the Ice Man coming down the street. Therefore, I guess this article is primarily for those who grew up in the 20s, 30s and perhaps the early 40s.

When we moved to Houston, we couldn’t afford a refrigerator. So, we took the old icebox we used in Batson. This meant that we had to watch for the Ice Man when he came by. It was summer time, so there was no school

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By Buddy Hazell

For the sake of not breaching confidentially, I will not use the names of anyone besides myself, Angela and my wife Lulu.

The year was 1985, a pregnant teenage girl crossed the Rio Grande River, to have her baby born in America, and be an American citizen. The baby was born Sept. 23, 1985. About three weeks after the baby was born, the mother was in a beer joint trying to sell her child. Someone called the police and they responded quickly and called CPS who brought the baby to our home. We had been in foster care for 15 years, and babies were our specialty. Her name was Angela and she was as beautiful as her name.

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