TAPS......

Good Afternoon all. I suppose you've all noticed by now my week long absence from this blog. The truth is, I decided to take a week off and gain some fresh perspective. Today I'd like to tell all of you about something that stays with me undiminished. I've decided to write this as it comes to my heart, simply letting the words flow from my mind to the screen.
Many years ago as I served in the Navy it was my distinct honor and unpleasant duty to serve on what we called a "firing squad". Let me quickly clarify at this point that this wasn't exactly as it sounds. It wasn't to execute someone, but to be on the picked squad to take part in the firing of the twenty one gun salute at the funeral of a veteran. It was always a bitter/sweet experience and never failed to fill me with admiration for the veteran that had passed away and great sadness that America had lost one of it's finest and bravest. I've had the honor and privilege of serving in that capacity for veterans from the first world war through the worst of the Viet Nam war. I could never describe the pain and difficulty that were a part of standing in full dress uniform, firing the three times required of the seven man squad, then listening to the sound of "TAPS", the most mournful sound on this planet. I also had the misfortune too many times to hear the same mournful tune played on the ship on which I was serving, commemorating
the loss of a shipmate. It was a sound that brought tears to the eyes of many hardened sailors that had been through long and weary hours at sea engaged in activities best left unremembered. It's also a sound that brought dread to the hearts of tough men and women that never failed to fight when fighting was required, yet a sound that brought dread to the hearts and minds of those same men and women. To so many of us the sound of TAPS signals the passing of an honored friend, or at the least, someone we didn't know personally but could relate to on a level that can't be described with words At the most, it was someone with whom we've shared our everything. That everything included our food, watching over each other as we took turns sleeping, our dreams, our pasts as we shared words with each other and the ambitions we had that included the sweethearts of which we bragged so much.
This is my small way of giving honor to those that have faced so valiantly the struggles required of freedom and given so willingly the very lives with which they were blest with by the Almighty God. And so, I stand with hat in hand and my right hand over my heart, giving a thank you to that same Almighty God for the courage and stalwart spirits with which these men and women were so greatly endowed. A thank you to God and a thank you to those that fought and a thank you to those that gave the ultimate gift for liberty. Liberty not only for those of us in the United States, but for peoples around the world that long to live in freedom and yearn for liberty. ......and so it goes.......

Making fun........

Good evening everyone. I'm happy to have you reading this post. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. This post is about some experiences that involved three boys growing up. The setting is Alabama and the time line was in the early to mid sixties. It was at a time that we didn't have any crops to tend, but we did have all of the livestock on the farm to tend to. After we were caught up with taking care of the stock (cattle, horses, chickens, hogs, etc.) we'd have some time to do most anything we wanted to do. On one particular day we decided to build us a truck wagon. Now, for those that don't know exactly what a truck wagon is, I'm gonna tell you. A truck wagon is a conveyance made by using a board, usually bout four feet in length, fastening another board, this one bout three feet long, across what will be the back very solidly. Then comes another board three feet long across the front of the wagon, but this one is on a swivel of sorts. Those two three foot boards serve axles and the wheels (hopefully those are available to the builders) are secured on the ends of them using bolts through the center of the wheel. After the wheels are on, then comes the steering mechanism. That's accomplished by securing a length of rope to the front axle, one end of the rope to either end of the axle. At this point the truck wagon is ready for action and one has then to carefully select the proper hill to roll it off of. Hopefully rather steep but with a smooth enough surface to enable one to stay on the vehicle during it's usually wild descent into God only knows what. If there are too many ruts then one has to either select another hill or fill in the ruts (which requires "work" and is to be avoided at all costs). When the right hill has been selected tho....The fun begins. Then the process of selecting the first rider begins. Since the hill and the vehicle are both mostly unknowns everyone involved is filled with a bit of trepidation. So the process usually involved everyone using a coin (if one were available) or another game like rock,paper,scissors, etc. Of course, the winner (or loser) had to take the first ride. It was often thought of as the ride into oblivion. ( :-D ) I recall one time we'd constructed a good and proper truck wagon and had made the decision about the first rider. The fortunate one this time was Dennis. So, after a bit of stalling and asking for a rematch at the game, He climbed onto the conveyance, put his feet on the vehicle and we gave him a healthy shove. Away he went. It being a very steep hill he was very soon going at a maniacal speed. Though we'd smoothed the route we'd missed a small rock.
Allow me to say here, that at a lower rate of speed, the rock wouldn't have been a problem, but since Dennis was going a such a high rate of speed it became impossible to maintain proper control. I have to give Dennis credit here. He did a great job up to this point in time. Upon hitting the rock with one of the wheels the vehicle promptly swerved into the woods that were on either side of the path. Unfortunately, though, to make it into the surrounding woods he had to first go through a large patch of blackberry briars. Jerry and I ran as fast as we could to make sure he was ok, but when we got there and saw him come trudging out of the woods we could only laugh. He looked like he'd been fighting 30 wildcats at once. He was scratched from his head to his toes and was boiling mad. Of course, the more mad he became the more we laughed and the more we laughed the more mad he became. At this point we all headed for home to try to put him back together. I wish I could better describe his condition but suffice it to say that there wasn't but a few places unscathed. After a few days of healing we all headed back to the scene and checked on the truck wagon, finding it in rather good condition. So Dennis, full of determination and not allowing the accident to deter him, got back on the truck wagon and headed back down the hill. This time he made it all the way to the bottom. I remember his descent well....His hair blowing back in the wind. I was proud of him for not allowing the hill to beat him and I, at that point, learned a valuable lesson about life. And one that I've never forgotten. To Dennis, it was him against the hill, and he'd never allow himself to be beaten without first doing everything he could to be a success. Thank you Dennis, for that valuable lesson. ............And so it went..........

A tidbit of wisdom......Two

Hello and welcome. If you're reading this I'd like to say that I appreciate it and invite you back at your earliest convenience. This post will be short and will involve only one bit of something I've learned on my way to this point in life. One difference between a wise person and a foolish person is: The wise person knows deep within their heart that being merciful and gracious to those around them will not only make an impact on other people. The biggest impact is made on the person extending the mercy and grace to others. The foolish person, on the other hand, never knows nor stops to see the negative impact their selfishness has on those around them, whether it's a stranger or a loved one. That, my wonderful friends, is the tidbit of wisdom for today. .........And so it goes...........

And darkness was on the face of the deep...........

Good evening all, and thank you for being so kind and patient. I'm back as you all can so plainly see. Tonight's posts setting was in July and August of Nineteen ninety nine. Life was challenging and I was struggling. Among other things I'd begun to have some health problems. Some of the problems included periodic times of an extremely high fever, pain in my abdominal area,
and blood where it wasn't supposed to be. I didn't get overly concerned for a while but then things only got worse. So...I went to the Doctor to try to find out what was going on. The Doctor did some lab work, etc. Then He and I talked. I told him that I figured that it was another kidney infection since I was prone to having them and had them on and off for a long time. He and I agreed to try antibiotics for a couple of weeks and see if that helped. For a short while it did seem to help, then things started all over and was worse. Back to the Doctor I went and this time He sent me to see a urologist. The next week I showed up for my appointment with the specialist and He started doing tests. One of the tests included a sonogram that was performed there at his office. After that test He came in and said to come back next week for an MRI, that He needed a more complete look at the abdominal area. So...Next week back I came and did the MRI. By this time it was the middle of August and I was wondering what all of the fuss was about. I was figuring also that something was wrong. A couple of days after the MRI I came back to the office accompanied by Crissy and Christopher. When we were called back to his office the three of us went in, sat down and talked among ourselves while waiting for Him to come in. When He came in He sat down and looked at us silently for a moment. Then came the words I had hoped not to hear. I had cancer. Yep...My right kidney had a tumor the size of a grapefruit in it and it was malignant. He wanted to set up a surgery for as quickly as we could, then said to wait for a week and let him get another doctor to look at things with him. They then decided that from the scans they had they couldn't tell if it had spread. At the moment I was told that I had cancer it seemed that time slowed down to a crawl. It was very surreal, like I as looking on as an observer. The surgery was set up for two weeks later and those two weeks were among the longest I can remember living through. It seemed that they wouldn't know if the cancer had spread until I was on the table and opened up. As I said, a very long two weeks. August 31st finally came, I was taken to the hospital at six a.m. that morning by Crissy and Christopher, went through the paperwork, put on the backward hospital gown, taken to the operating room, and the next thing I knew I was in the recovery room with what seemed like a mouthful of cotton and a huge pain in my stomach. I had lost my right kidney but was blest in that the cancer hadn't spread to any other organs. That experience is in my memory as an exceptionally difficult time, not the most difficult but definitely in the top five. I was blest also, to have someone to lean on and talk to. Someone that listened and understood. Someone that had been there and come through something similar with more courage than I thought possible. To that someone a special thank you. That's how I came to part company with my right kidney, may it rest in peace. ..........And so it went..............

Trying to be......

Good evening all. I'm having a difficult time deciding what to write on this post. Not that I have a shortage of something to write about, but because I have too much to choose from. The things I'd rather post about are at this point just too hard to think about so I'm going to stop for tonight. As blest as I am there are still things I have a difficult time with from time to time. Things I'd rather not remember but seem to have no choice about it seems. So with your kind indulgence I'll pick this up in the morning.

The life and times of Nellie the Belle.....

A joyous good evening to all. As I sit writing this post I hope everyone of you are having a wonderful evening and that your day tomorrow is even better. Ok, enough of the greeting. I'm going to get right to the main topic for the evening.
I'm going to, at this time, introduce you all to Nellie. Group, this is Nellie. Nellie, this is a group of loyal and faithful bloggers. Nellie was my first car. She was of the American motors brand and was assembled in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and sixty. To those not well versed in mathematics that would be 1960. Her brand was better known as a "Rambler". Let me now tell the brief story of how she got her name. When I first made the purchase of this fine (term used loosely) automobile she, among other deficiencies, didn't have the ability to stop. Put another way, she didn't have brakes. When I paid the money for Nellie and got behind the wheel I was unaware of this, but found out quickly as I came to the first of many stop signs. Among the many efforts made to stop were the use of the expression "whoa Nellie". It stuck and became the name I called her for almost a year. Now, the name established, I'll go on to other deficiencies. She, I found out late that evening, also had no dim headlights. Because of this minor setback I drove the entire night with my lights on bright, which I might add, enraged most all of the other drivers which had the misfortune to meet me on the road. That might sound like a serious and difficult problem, but taken in context, it really was one of the most minor. Another problem was that all four tires were completely and utterly smooth (worn out to those not familiar to the lingo) . On this account I'd decided to go rather slowly just in case. After that decision was made I made the discovery that she would only go about thirty miles an hour anyway, which worked out very well for everyone except for those following me. Oh, speaking of following me, I'm led to the next and worst of all her infirmities. She had no, I repeat, NO rings on any of her pistons. I'll break that down a bit for the mechanically challenged. The pistons are those things inside the engine that compress the fuel mixture and make the engine go. The rings on the pistons (about four on each) are the things that keep the motor oil from getting into the cylinders and making the engine put out a degree of white smoke. The amount of white smoke depends on how many of the rings are worn, broken or just plain not there. Well, Nellie had no rings on any of the six pistons inside of her engine. Bless her heart. The result of this malady was that she put out more white smoke that any mosquito sprayer ever in the history of man and machine. One having the misfortune of driving behind me for any distance found that there was no visibility for fifty to one hundred yards, but on the upside, there was a tremendous drop in the mosquito population for quite a while. ( :-D ) I finally had the engine reworked and that particular problem went away. I had spent a grand total of three hundred dollars on her. One hundred eighty dollars was the purchase price, then one hundred twenty dollars to have Nellie's engine rebuilt.
Now, I know at this juncture you're all wondering whatever happened to Nellie. The truth be told, I wish I still had her. The truth being further told, I have no Idea what happened to Nellie. I loaned Nellie to an Uncle and a few days after (probably in a pout) she promptly stopped running forever and all time. He pulled her over to the side of the road as best He could and further pushed her the rest of the way out of the road. I had no way to get Nellie to my house, not being able to afford a wrecker, so there she sat while I thought about the dilemma that she and I were in. As I pondered the problem it went away. Literally it went away. I never found out what had happened to Nellie, but assume that someone with access to a wrecker (or just a chain) had pulled her away, probably as an act of pity. Since I still didn't have the means to bring her home I gave her (in my mind) to her kidnapper/rescuer. So goes the story of noble Nellie, may she rest in peace. ........and so it went.......

A tidbit of wisdom.......one

Hi ya'll....please don't consider this a post. Just something that's been on my mind a bit today. Here goes:

1) People that have a lot of friends are those that have learned how to be a friend

2) People that are most loved are those that have learned how to love.

3) People that are known as selfish are those that have never learned to think of others.

4) There are people that constantly and consistantly seek the balances of life that make them Loved, respected, trusted and friendly, and there are people that don't know that those very balances exist and as a result live lives that are discontent and angry.

More tidbits later. .......and so it goes.......

Complete stress...or...how I survived this long....

Good Evening everyone and thank you all for taking the time to read this, the next installment in my blog. I appreciate your being patient while so breathlessly awaiting the arrival of each new post.
I'd like to take tonight's post to continue something I was talking about today. I sometime forget (probably on purpose) things that have been sources of stress in this life. One such source of stress has to do with some of my years working on a railroad. I had been offered a promotion which was going to more than double my salary. Let me say before going on that I'm not money hungry, but I did have a family to support and wanted to do the best I could in that. I therefore took the promotion and began training. If I remember right, I trained for the new job for about two months but should have been given 4 or 5 months of training. My new job involved sitting in a seven story tower and directing most of the operation of a freight yard. Quite an undertaking for someone experienced, but almost an impossibility for someone so new to the vocation. To make a long story not so long I'll explain like this. The over all freight yard was made up of smaller specialiy yards. It broke down somewhat like this: fourteen tracks to receive trains, fifty six tracks to classify (break down) each train, two forwarding yards that included all together twelve tracks to rebuild each train with different freight cars. The biggest source of stress was in defying the mathamatical possibilities of such an operation. For example, when one had fourteen tracks to receive trains and twenty trains showed up.....well...you get my drift. In order to get all of the trains in the yard one had to remove a train from one of those fourteen tracks, then bring one of those extra trains into the just opened track. Sounds sort of easy, but wait. Not so easy. In order to open up those fourteen tracks one had to classify each train received, or switch each train into the next yard in the line called the classification yard. The problem was that of those fifty six tracks most were full. Now to the crux of the problem and the mathimatical impossibility. One can only put rail cars into a track until it's full, and at that point it will absolutely, positively NOT hold any more. Now....all of this for eight to sixteen hours a day and with your bosses (plurel) standing behind you screaming profanities to make more progress. Oh yeah, add one thing, the guys working for you can only go so fast. Asking them to speed up was pretty much asking for trouble. Trouble like, injuries or even fatilities. Ok...All of this went on a lot like this for about fifteen years before it slowed down any. By the time it had slowed down I was pretty much past recovery. One of the ways I survived was by taking very short breaks at my desk. Usually thirty seconds to a minute. On each infrequent break I'd close my eyes and suddenly I'd be back in a quiet and serene surrounding. Something like, standing on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier when we weren't flying the planes, and listening to the swishing of the water as it swept by one hundren feet below. That was pretty much the only thing I could hear, but I'd also look once again at the moon and stars and how beautiful they were shining over the ocean. Or....I would sometime go back to growing up on a farm. On Sunday's we had free time and many is the time I'd go into the pasture and lay down in the shade of a tree and just listen to the quiet sounds of the insects as they busily went about their daily activities. Sometimes I'd lay like that for two or three hours. Yes...those were two of the things that kept me from being anymore insane than I already am. Complete stress. Overcome by memories of a better and quieter time. I look back at those stressful years and sometime wonder how I survived it, but then....I'm not so sure I did. .......and so it went.......

The great flea conspiracy in the Dog days of summer......

Good Evening all.....I suppose you wonderful folks out there are tired of holding your breath and wondering what's been the delay in posting. Well....I'll tell you....I've been on a little trip and just this very day returned. Yep...I had a great time and yep...I was all by myself. Bless my little heart. I am now returned and in great spirits and feeling good...Well...All but my neck, back, left elbow, knees and right ankle. ( :-D ) Just kidding!!! I have, at present, some wonderful company I'd like to talk about a bit if I may, before launching into the remainder of this post. I have my youngest daughter, Crissy, along with her four children, spending the night with me. I had hoped that Kim and her boys could have but prior plans precluded this from happening. I thought I'd do this post while Crissy is getting the children to bed. Ok...now on to the posting....
There are some, if not all of you, that remember previous posts concerning a young boy and his adventures on our farm. This post is about another event in the life of that young boy. It was on a rainy day, thus not many outdoors activities (except for mandatory chores). It was while Dennis and I were consumed with those very chores that this young boy got another taste of adventure on a farm. Let me quickly interject at this point that Dennis and I both told him the ills that could befall him if he pushed ahead with this plan. His plan was to, while Dennis and I were busy with some chores, to get into the loft of the hay barn and make tunnels in the hay. The fallacy of the plan was quite apparent to us but seemed to escape him. The problem with the plan he had was that some cats had made their home in the hay loft and controlled the mice/rat population. Of course, being the felines they were, and having the fur they had, they did indeed have fleas. Also, of course, some of the fleas had left their homes on the cats to get into/infest the hay. So, this young man, having the burning desire that he had to play in the hay, proceeded to do just that. Dennis and I were quite some time finishing the chores we'd been assigned to do, which gave this young man quite a while to play in the hay loft. When Dennis and I had finished and gone to the hay barn the young man told us (while scratching furiously) that he had the tunnels all ready to play in. Dennis, being the strongest of heart, inspected his head and the hair on it, and of course, found that his head was INFESTED with...yep...fleas. Of course Dennis and I were blamed for the catastrophe. We never did get anyone to believe us and we couldn't figure out why they chose not to. ( :-D ) To remedy the situation we had to comb some flea killing mixture thru his hair, which made him stink for a couple of days. His mother was quite put out. I thought at the time she was just being difficult. It was a few years before I finally understood her point of view. I mean....it was only flea infestation. .......and so it went......

The other side of the circle........

Well....here we are once again. Thank you for coming in to read another post. It's an honor to have you. Please feel free to comment if you'd like. The post for tonight is about some people that have been very important to me. Maybe I should change the names to protect the innocent, but no, I'll put it out for all to read. I'm going to talk tonight about my Mom and her side of the family. My Mom is eighty one years old as of last December, but still has the vim, vigor and energy to have two vegatable gardens and a yard full of flowers of all shapes, sizes and descriptions. Oh yeah...she also knows the name of every type on plant she has. She has been a vital factor in every part of my development from infancy till the present. She is, many times, a study in contrasts. She's very loving and kind and constantly alert for anyone that she can help, while also being very opinionated and idealistic. In other words, she's a bundle of constant energy looking for an outlet. ( :-D ) Her favorite times of the of the year are Spring, summer and autumn, those being the times of year she can get outside and work in her yard and gardens. The winter she mostly tolerates while waiting for better weather. She was born in the winter of 1924 in a small country town in north central Alabama. She was born somewhere in the middle of ten children, having 5 older siblings and 4 younger. She is now one of five that survive. Her father, my grandfather,his name was John, was a traveling preacher, otherwise known as a circuit riding pastor. When he did stop the circuit he settled down to pastor one church. Over the years he was the pastor of several small country churches and became known far and wide in this part of Alabama. As a child I remember him as very tall, but I'm assured that he wasn't so tall, being a bit less than six feet tall. I do know he was a thin man so maybe that's why he seemed so tall. His wife, whose name was Mary (two nice jewish names, huh) I remember as being short and sort of laid back. She was a diabetic for as long as I have memory of her, at a time when diabetes wasn't easily treated. She was, in her older years, rather overweight. I remember her as being a good balance for my granddad. He was always teasing all of us (his grandchildren) and I rarely remember him without a smile on his face. My Grandmother on the other hand, was a bit more serious, which is why they were good for each other. While my grandfather pastored churches, that's not how he supported his family. That he did that by working in the coal mines. He did that at a time when coal mining was an extremely dirty, unhealthy and very dangerous occupation. Fatalities were more the rule than the exception. On top of that, they had a farm in which everyone old enough either particapated or did house work and cooking. They, as a family were deeply caring for each other as well as those in the community in which they lived. Living in and through the depression of the ninteen thirtys made them a very close knit family. There is so very much more that I could tell, but I'm going to limit myself to what I've written for the time being. There will be more written later. Suffice it to say, that my Mom came from solid and quality beginnings, and has endured much through the years. I know in the early sixties in a period of about three years she lost to death her Dad, a son and her Mother. It was a very trying time for us all but we became closer and more connected because of it. A last comment....I'm proud of where I came from and the family from which I came. ......and so it went........