They say, "Proper Intro", but I've been writing so long that everything reads like one of my stories. Some may take it as authentic, some would consider that I just write well. All I can say is that if you know me, you know me. I can start off with any line I choose, so ... "The first time I heard a bandsaw blade snap, I flinched. Nearly a decade at a mill teaches you which sounds mean danger, and which just mean Tuesday. That same instinct serves me well on quiet backwater trips, where reading the ripples separates a peaceful afternoon from an unexpected swim. I'm Emmitt, and I've built my life in the space between industrial precision and wilderness solitude.
Or I can start off with the whole: Hello, I'm Emmitt ... What's up??? Hmmm, about me? ...My story begins in the industrial heartland of Flint, Michigan. My formative years unfolded between the pine-scented hills of Mesick, Michigan and the quiet charm of Beebe, Arkansas. In 1989, my family set roots in Cherokee, Alabama before life's currents pulled me back to Mesick in 1992. Russellville Alabama claimed me in 1996. This migration between North and South hasn't just been geography—it's become the lens through which I view the world, a perspective shaped by both frost-bitten winters and humid Southern summers.
Family has been my anchor through every move and milestone. I was raised by parents who taught me the value of roots and wings. Though my father passed just over a year ago, his lessons remain in my compass. My journey has known profound loss—my wife left this world six years ago, leaving a voice that still echos through some evenings. But life continues its steady rhythm through my five beautiful children (including a son-in-law and daughter-in-law) and the boundless joy of my three grandsons who remind me of life's continuing story. My journey continues with a loving girlfriend who brings new light to my days, and a small circle of close friends who've weathered seasons of celebration and sorrow alongside me. My work family at UFP provides that daily sense of belonging that turns colleagues into confidants—these connections remind me that while bloodlines matter, so too do the families we choose and build throughout our lives.
Professionally, my heart beats behind the machinery at the sawmill from which I work. For nearly a decade, my hands have maintained the critical equipment that transforms lumber into profit. This work has cultivated not just mechanical intuition but a methodical approach to life's complexities that serves me beyond the mill floor.
When Friday whistles sound, I shed the sawdust and emerge as a modern-day explorer. You might spot my canoe cutting silent paths through morning mist or find me reading water patterns with a fishing line as my translator. My wanderlust guides me to state parks across the Southeast—from Mississippi's hidden bayous to Kentucky's limestone hollows, through Alabama's river systems, Arkansas's mountain shadows, Tennessee's beautiful mountains and Georgia's red clay wilderness. These solitary journeys aren't just escapes; they're conversations with places that speak only in silence.
What defines me isn't the mechanical puzzles I've solved or waters I've navigated, but my capacity to fully inhabit each moment. Whether deciphering the language of industrial equipment, establishing camp on shores few have touched, or simply tracking the sun's journey across my front porch, I've mastered the art of presence without the constant reach for more.
"I'm just taking it one day at a time. Yesterday's memories, today's experiences, and tomorrow's possibilities are all equally important parts of my life."
I'm just a normal, average person... that does normal average things. Through it all, I remain grounded in the ordinary—I don't seek the extraordinary or exceptional, finding instead that there's profound satisfaction in being a straightforward person with simple tastes who appreciates the basic rhythms of daily life.







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