The case of the terminal crabs....Or...How bubbles almost met his maker.

A hearty good evening to everyone that has the nerve to read this post. Welcome and welcome. I'm glad to have you and hope you make yourself at home and enjoy. I have in store tonight, something that was not, at the time, funny in the least. Now though, with the perspective that the passage of time permits , it is hilarious. It was in the autumn of 1971 in the Mediterranean sea. We were on the aircraft carrier U.S.S. America. We'd been for some weeks sailing up and down the coast of Israel, Egypt and Lebanon trying to avert another middle east war. (and had some success at that point in time) We'd been relieved temporarily from that task by the U.S.S. Saratoga (another carrier flotilla ). Our next port of call just happened to be Naples, Italy, the cesspool of ports. At that time at least. We'd pulled into port and most of the squadron had gotten liberty to go ashore. Some of us, having been there, had no desire to leave the ship to go into Naples. One of the ones that did go though, was a second class parachute rigger named .......Well.....Lets just give his nickname. It was, you guessed it, Bubbles. Mostly because he was shaped so very much like one. Another reason was because we sometime thought that maybe that's what he had in his head. In other words, not the sharpest knife in the drawer. I've been thankful for years that I didn't have to use the parachutes that he packed. ( :-D ) Across the aisle from his bunk was the bunk used be a good friend and buddy of mine. His name just also happened to be Mike. Bubbles came in from liberty the first night in port and had (we didn't want to know how and where from) gotten the worst case of crabs in the modern annuls of history. Now, for those of you that don't know about the kind of crabs I'm talking about, let me fill you in. These are very small (you can hardly see one by itself) parasites that attach themselves to the root of the hair shaft. Oh yeah,.....They multiply by the hundreds. Make that the thousands. If you got two today, tomorrow you had, literally, thousands. Oh yeah, they only attached to hair that the sun couldn't shine on. ( :-D ) Anyway, Bubbles had gotten himself a royal serving of them. A couple of mornings later, at reveille, Bubbles rolled out of his rack (that's what we called our beds) and removed his blankets and sheets. Instead of rolling them up as did the rest of us, He grabbed his by the end seam and POPPED it into the air. There was, at that point, a whole cloud of the little critters floating through the air in search of a new home. It seemed Bubbles wanted to share the itch and did so with greatest of ease. It was at that point that Mike came rolling out of his rack and looked with disbelief at the scene before him. It was at this point that the action picked up to a fast blur. Mike, realizing that he'd just been given a case of crabs became quite suddenly.....The word livid comes to mind. I have to interject right here, that we all (several hundred sailors) were dumbstruck with admiration and awe at the articulate way that Mike took all of the four letter words that we'd ever heard, combined them into compound words, and then combined the compound words he'd just created into bigger and better compound words. It was like a tapestry of color unfolding right out in front of our ears. It was the topic of admiration and conversation for several weeks in the mess hall (the place we ate) After Mike finished verbally, he got more angry than ever and started toward the now incredulous and frightened Bubbles, but thankfully, some of us were able to restrain him till Bubbles beat a hasty retreat. After the turmoil had died down a bit, the medical officer showed up and sent us all to sick bay where we were treated for the little vermin that Bubbles had so generously shared with the whole compartment. We also had to move for two days so everything in there could be fumigated. By the time we were back in our compartment we were all angry at Bubbles so the Skipper (our Commanding officer) reassigned him to another place until the end of the cruise. On a closing note, I forgot to say thanks to Bubbles so I will here. Thank you Bubbles, for the worst case of crabs known to mankind. ..........and so it went........

And miles to go before I sleep.......

Good Evening to everyone. I am, once again, happy to have you reading this next post in my blog. Putting the posts in this blog has been thus far an interesting thing. Sometime fun and sometime not so fun. Sometime it's brought a smile to my face and sometime a grimace of pain long forgotten and suddenly remembered. The post for today is in two parts. First I'd like to recall my Dad. He succumbed to cancer after a stalwart battle for three years. After two surgeries, three courses of Chemo and altogether about eighteen to twenty four months of radiation He finally found relief from the pain that had been his constant companion for so long. As much as I wanted to keep him I found myself feeling a bit guilty for being glad he'd passed away. I was just so very tired of seeing him suffer so terribly and for so long. He was in life a role model for so many people, including myself. He had by my sixteenth birthday taught me much about building. I never do anything to this day that doesn't make me remember something he taught me. He was a big man, standing six feet and four inches tall and weighing between two hundred seventy five and three hundred pounds. Not until his later years did he begin to pick up weight that wasn't muscle. He was indeed a gentle giant, having a soft heart that led him to, behind the scenes, helping probably hundreds of people. Most people never knew this of him because he didn't want it openly known. He just wanted to help and gained his reward from the act of giving. He was, I suppose, one of the most unforgettable people in the life of this writer. He may be also where I gained my stunning good looks. ( :-D ) (Please allow me this small bit of humor) The second part of this post is about learning work on a farm. At the age of about ten years old I started helping with the work on our family farm. We generally had about 40 acres of cotton and 30 acres of corn. After the death of Dennis and Jerry getting his greetings (draft notice) from Uncle Sam I was suddenly at the age of fourteen the main farm worker. All of this with a red and a brown mule. (with which you're already well acquainted) On top of that I had on average twelve thousand chickens, forty head of cattle, several hogs and usually some horses. My Dad held a construction job but helped all he could, which was anytime he was not working away from home. I don't remember what we did in our spare time ( :-D ) By the age of fourteen I was carrying two fifty pounds sacks of fertilizer, one on each shoulder through a freshly plowed field. Not an easy feat for any age. By fifteen years of age I was tossing fifty to seventy five pound bales of hay onto a stack fifteen feet high. Yes, we worked long and hard, but we also took some time to play and we played as hard as we worked. In the winter there wasn't so much to do so we used our time in other ways. Sometimes we used the winter time to clear ground for planting, and sometime we hunted and supplimented our diet with wild game.
I suppose some of you have heard the 'old saying' "making hay while the sun shines". We lived that many times. When a neighbor would have freshly mowed hay in the field and we saw it was going to rain neighbors from miles around would show up and we'd work into the night getting his hay into his barn. If it got wet it was ruined and that neighbor had no hay for his livestock that winter. So, when we saw a friend/neighbor in need we'd all do whatever it took to pitch in and help. We did work hard but I remember it as a really good time. A time when neighbors knew each other for miles around and looked out for each other. A time, it seems, long, long vanished...... ..............and so it went.......

Opportunity seized.....

Good Evening....just a short post here. Kim, Crissy and I went to lunch today, actually they bought me lunch, and we all had a grand time. As we were in the parking lot of the restaurant
preparing to leave an opportunity presented itself. As we stood talking a small blue car drove up and a young lady with two small children came to where we were. Without going into any detail I'll just say that we were fortunate enough to be able to make a difference in this young ladies life and she left with a whole new countenance. All this just to say to the young lady, thank you for the privledge of helping in a small way and I pray that your dreams are fulfilled. :-)

A night without stars......

Good Evening all. I'm happy to have you all reading this, the next post in the life of an average guy that's happy to be here. Welcome!
I've pondered what this post should be about. There is so much to write about that I have trouble deciding. As a teenager we had, as is fairly common, a rivalry with a school from another town not far away. It was a rather friendly rivalry as they go. We played football, basketball, etc against these guys so we knew them rather well. One day we got word that some guys from that particular town was going to raid the watermelon patch of an older man it the neighborhood. The old man was known as a gruff person, but to those of us that knew him well he was a kind and generous man and neighbor. I don't remember exactly who it was but someone tipped him off about the raid. (I swear it wasn't me ) (:-D ) The night as it turned out, was overcast and very dark, a perfect night for the raid. We, some of my buddies and I, anticipating the coming action sneaked into an adjoining pasture to witness the action if there was some. (we were very civic minded) Sure enough, along about midnight or maybe a little sooner, we saw a car pull to a stop on the side of the highway not far away. Now, I have to say here, that we knew the old man was out there somewhere but we didn't know just where. So, we waited and sure enough, they emerged from the little strip of woods that bordered the highway. As they came into the middle of the patch looking for the best melons, and not paying attention, the old man rose from his seat, raised his twelve gauge double barrel shotgun and fired two shots into the air. The sounds of the shots froze everyone, including those of us that were hidden. When the raiders collected their wits, they all turned and sprinted for the strip of woods and ultimately to their car. Did I mention that there was four of the raiders? As they sprinted at breakneck speed out of the field, they vaulted the....Wait....Did I forget about mentioning the barbed wire fence at the edge of the woods. Well, three of them vaulted the fence. The fourth, in his haste, had apparently forgotten about the fence and ran full speed and headlong into one of the more sturdy of the fence posts. The impact not only knocked him out cold, but made those of us that were witnesses a short distance away cringe. We saw the old man walk to where he was and try to lift him. Oh yeah, the other three raiders were long gone. When we saw the old man trying to lift the limp raider we went over and volunteered our services. (it seems that we were all just walking by down the road when all of this transpired) (:-D ) Ok, Ok.....this has a good ending. We carried the victim, or was he a perpetrator, to the old mans house not far away where the old man and his wife made him comfortable until he awakened. They then cleaned up the brave raider and called his parents. We didn't see the point at this juncture of witnessing anything further so we excused ourselves and eased out, but we did stay close till his parents arrived and helped him into the car. None of the witnesses involved ever saw a reason to tell about our parts in the events of the night, so we just never talked about it, except of course, with each other. Sorry guys, but the statute of limitations have long since expired, thus the narrative of this post. To the raiders go my humblest apologizes and my best wishes for more and better success in any other endeavors in their lives. Sweet memories of youth....at least for the witnesses! ......and so it went.......

Wonderful fun in the days of innocence.........

Good evening everyone. I'm happy to say that I've made it through another Monday. A real plus is, I have the same number of body parts that I did last Monday. A small accomplishment to some but something that looms large considering my track record. ( :-D ) I have what I consider a real treat with this post. At least I'll enjoy writing it. It's about a lad of about 6 years old (give or take a bit). This lad is blonde with big brown eyes and has a thin frame. He's maybe three feet ten inches to four feet tall and weighs( if soaking wet) maybe seventy pounds or so. This young lad lives in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida, and has most of his life. Once a year his family takes a 'vacation' to see family in and around Jasper, Alabama. This is the highlight of his year. It's where he gets most all of his "show and tell" material for school. His favorite place in the whole world is out in the country at his paternal grandparents home. At this magical place there is no limit of things to see and do. Not far down a dirt road there is what's left of an old sawmill. The equipment is gone but left behind are three HUGE piles of sawdust. These must have been sixty feet high. There were days that this young lad, along with several cousins about his age or a bit older maybe, spent the entire day playing. At the end of the day, or more precisely, at dinner time when called in by adults we'd troop back to the house. There would be a line of us with sawdust on and in every crack, crevice or orfice in our little bodies. My grandparents didn't have running water at that time, so before allowed in the house for dinner we had to clean up. The ususal procedure was for all of us to strip down to our birthday suits, or more literally said, naked and have an adult draw water from the well and pour on us slowly till we were reasonably clean, or at least somewhat free of sawdust. He still remembers well how frigid the water from the well was. At that point they all put on bed clothes and weren't allowed out, except for going in the large yard to catch lightening bugs. The next day He was up early and pondering what to do on that day. If it was winter he'd lie in bed covered by so many quilts he could barely move under the weight of them. After counting to three numerous times to get started he'd finally crawl out from under the quilts, grab his clothes that were laid out for him, and run for the kitchen. Upon arrival there he'd run behind the wood stove that his grandmother was cooking breakfast on and get dressed. Oh yeah, one of the wonderful things that would happen, his grandfather would say"Hi Mikey". Oh, the wonderful smell of bacon early in morning of a day that was fully looked forward to. One went to bed wishing that morning would come quickly so the days adventures could commence. The days adventures would include waiting for the steam train that hauled coal from the mine to the steel mills in fairfield. The train would head toward the mine about mid-morning to load up and would come back loaded with coal about mid-afternoon. On it's way back it would most always stop at the huge water tank beside their house to take on water. As the fireman and engineer would water the boiler we'd stand as close as the adults would allow us and wait for the steam to vent. We knew it was going to happen but it never failed to scare us. We were transfixed by the whole experience. After the train finished taking on water and departed we'd "sneak" off down the tracks in the direction of the "big" trussle that spanned the creek that ran behind their house. Sometime we'd be able to get out of sight of the adults before we were called back. Upon accomplishing that, we'd turn and run for the trussle because we knew the train would not come back till the next day. When arriving at the trussle we'd begin working at getting courage enough to acutally walk out onto it. Between every crosstie one could see the water below. It wasn't actually a very high trussle but to a young lad it seemed like a long way down. Most of us before we grew up finally did begin to walk across and back. Well, I've run out of time and space on this particular post, so I'll keep the rest to tell another day. Besides, you wouldn't want everything at once, would you? So, leaving more for another day I'll say goodnight for now, but don't worry, there is more to come. .......and so it went.......

Hearing the tolling of the Bell......

Good afternoon to everyone.....I'm happy and flattered to have all of you reading this post. Now, usually I try to have something humorous on about every other post, but this time I'm going to make an exception (if you'll permit it this once). Thank you....I knew it would be ok with all of you.
I've had on my mind the last couple of days some people I knew once. Some I knew well and others more in passing, but I knew them all. These are the abbreviated stories of some of the unsung hero's of a time long past. These were guys that the bell tolled for too early. Guys whose names are on a list that includes some of the greatest names in American history. My first acknowledgment is for a cousin. His name was Larry. He was very tall, I'm guessing about 6 feet and 7 inches or so...maybe a bit more. He was drafted in his nineteenth year of life. To look at Larry one would think that he was an ordinary guy, but he had attributes that in my mind set him apart. To make a long story shorter, Larry went to Vietnam after he finished with basic training, and was assigned to a recon outfit. On his last recon he stepped on a mine and was killed.
The next guy was a Lt. Commander Threlkeld that was a pilot on an A-7 corsair in operation rolling thunder over North Vietnam. He'd dropped his bomb load and was returning to the carrier when he was shot down over the gulf of Tonkin. An A-1 reconnaissance plane circled over head keeping an eye on him through their camera lens while the chopper we called the 'angel' headed out to pick him up. While all of this was happening he was picked up by a Vietnamese fishing junk. That would ordinarily be a good thing, but one never knew who was manning those boats. If it was really fisherman it was good. It just so happened that this particular boat was manned by Viet cong. When the angel came into view of them they stood him up and shot him, then threw his body over the side of the boat into the gulf. The 'fishing boat' then headed away and the angel went in and picked up the body. At that point the Phantom alert fives were launched and destroyed the junk with everyone on board. All of this was captured on film by the A-1 that was circling over head.
So....there is little I can say that will speak more than does the lives of these heros. Even though they have all been dead for many years their memories live on in my heart and in the hearts of thousands more that lost their innocence in many places and in many ways. People that saw too much and live day to day with memories they would rather not have. More heros in later posts. .........and so it went.......

Something good this way came.....

A very good evening to everyone that is waiting in such suspense for this post. I apologize for keeping you on edge for so long. :-)
On this particular post I'm going to tell about something that I remember as very good and exciting. Something that changed my life in a wonderful way, but that turned out to be not quite so good. This particular event is quite important in many ways. Two of those ways are named Kim and Crissy. The event I'm speaking of with such eloquence is the point in time that their Mother and I met. It was on a sunday afternoon in November, about the middle of the month, in the year of our Lord one thousand nine hundred and sixty eight. I was at home on a leave from my duties as a sailor in Uncle Sams Navy, and was quite bored and looking for something to do. I called on the phone someone that I was very good friends with and had been for several years. Her name was, and still is of course, Sharman. This young lady turned out later to be my sister-in-law. (she married my oldest brother) As Sharman and I talked I found out that she had company in the form of a girlfriend that she went to church with. Sharman, being the sweet girl that she was, started making plans to get the two of us together. We made plans for all of us to meet at my Grandfather's house, which by coincidence happened to be right across the street from the church they went to. So....meet we did. Now, at this point let me interject an important item that needs to be covered. I was wearing, it being November and rather cold, my dress blues that were all new and shiny. I'm told that I made a rather dashing figure. (Not my words.) :-D It was at that fateful time that I met the young lady. Her name was Yvonne and she was without doubt the prettiest girl I'd ever seen to that point in time. She was very kind, gentle and pleasing to be around. When the time came for them to go across the street to church Yvonne ask me if I'd attend with them, and being the kind of guy I was/am I immediately consented. Oh yeah...I'm leaving out part. My sister, Karen, was with me. She'd just turned 16 and wanted to go to another church, which just happened to be where her boyfriend attended. So, I solved the problem by simply tossing her the keys to the car, and telling her to come back after church to pick me up. (and by the way, she did) I attended church with Sharman and the young lady that was to become my wife. After church she and I sat in the parking lot and talked for a while, until her Dad came by and told her it was time to go home. At that point I got her phone number, which I used the very next day. A couple of days later we went on our first date and had a wonderful time. By the second date it was like we'd been friends for a long time. All of this was the middle of November and we married the next April. (after breaking up and getting back together one time, but that's a story for another day) The next ten years will always be in my memories as a wonderful time. A time that brought a lot of Joy to our lives as well as two young ones we named Kimberly Susan and Crissy Denina. Those two, by the way, still bring tremendous joy to me and have graciously given me 6 more bundles of joy. What can I say here about Christopher and Scott. They are like the sons I didn't have instead of sons-in-law. Now that she's passed away Kim and Crissy miss their Mom and I miss the girl I married. .........and so it went.........

Barrels and barrels of "fun"?

Good evening to the millions of anticapating and faithful readers out there. I'm doing this, the next post, as a gesture of sympathy to ya'll. I don't want ya'll glued to your computers any longer than is necessary, so here it is.
As I sat tonight, in deep thought, I recalled an incident from years gone by that is amusing. At least it is now. At the time it wasn't funny at all. Well......maybe just a little bit. A bit of a disclaimer at this juncture. The only involvement I had in this is the foreknowledge of it's transpiration. Actually it was a two part event. I'll start with the car wreck. At the high school we attended, after all had departed every afternoon, a thick cable was stretched across the road and locked. In the middle of the cable was a very large sign that was painted red with the word "STOP" painted on it in reflective white paint. A friend of mine, on impulse, decided to play some pranks. So he removed the sign from the cable. A classmate, not necessarily a friend, after dark saw the the sign wasn't in place and decided to drive into the parking lot and do tailspins on the gravel parking lot. (which was the reason for the cable and sign). Thinking, perhaps because he didn't see the sign, that the cable wasn't in place He headed at a rather high rate of speed into the parking lot. He hit the cable at about 60 miles per hour, at which point his car stopped in approximately 2 feet. He didn't. (stop that is) HE continued at about the same speed, at least until he hit the dash. At that point he did, indeed, stop. I was at home when the afore events transpired. Mike (my friend) having heard the resulting sound ran back the scene and immediately went to a phone and called me. The purpose of his call was two fold. First, he wanted me to come see the results of his caper. Second, but most importantly, he wanted me to supply him with an alibi (which I did after some negotiatations). Phase two of the operation was, the same night, he hoisted a fifty five gallon barrel up the vacant flagpole. After the excitement created by the car incident, he quite naturally forgot about the barrel until the next morning. That next eventful morning we heard a commotion consisting of a loud bang, the running of feet then loud yelling. It seemed that our principle, having arrived at his usual time and parking in his usual spot (under the flagpole) had failed to notice the impending barrel hovering over his car. Right on que, a couple of seventh grade boys went to perform the ritual of hoisting Old Glory up the flag pole for the day. Having arrived at the base of the flagpole and discovering the barrel high on said flagpole, they began a discussion on the best way to remove said barrel. Loosing the rope they began to lower the barrel, but as the rope slipped through their hands and began to burn they did what any young boy would do. They let go. The barrel fell bout 30 or so feet and, yes, hit the hood of the principle's car. Needless to say the barrel knocked a hole in the hood. The seventh graders, after collecting their wits (or at least what was left of them) began the slow and painful task of finding Mr. Hudson (the principle) and relating to him what had transpired. Already in a foul mood because of the car incident, he almost exploded. There was even talk, at least for a little while, of a reward being posted for the apprehension of the culprut, but it was never acutally posted. Besides, Mike and I were the only ones that knew and I knew if I told anyone I'd be assumed guilty also. So, I took the most logical course and kept my mouth shut, at least until now. .........and so it went..........

Ahhh...Sweet Home...How I long for thee....

Hello to all you folks out there waiting for this, the next post in the continuing series of the life of which I know so much. I just made the comment to the person that suggested this post that "My life has been so very blest". I could begin now listing the ways I've been blest and it would take all night (..It's 9:30pm). So, I'll begin things by saying that one of the ways I've been blest in this life is by having grown up in the home that I did. We didn't have a perfect life and it was with hard work that we lived, but I grew up knowing that I was loved and learned how to love. I suppose that as one goes through life encountering the very difficult trauma that life dishes out to us that we tend to lose sight of what we learned on the way. I've been giving thought to the homes I've had over the years and I've also given thought to each specific place that I've called home. The first time I recall 'returning home' was in December 1968. I'd been in San Diego, which was my first ever station while in the Navy. It was the first time I'd been away from home as an adult and for that extended amount of time. It's amazing how long 5 little months can be, huh? I can still recall with amazing detail each part of the trip. Boarding the plane in San Diego, changing planes in L.A., a 6 hour lay over in Dallas, from there to Atlanta ( I know, we flew over Birmingham to Atlanta) then back to Birmingham. It was about 9 or 10 pm when I arrived there. I called "home" to see if they (my family) could come to pick me up. I'd expected my Dad but when they arrived it was the whole family. Ahh....What a sweet homecoming. I had 2 whole weeks there and I savored the time greatly. San Diego wasn't a home I relished because it was filled with 16 hour days of drill, classes, drill, marching, shipboard drills, inspections that were quite literally impossible to pass and more drills. Oh yeah...We took just a small amount of time to eat and sleep. My next 'home' was in Memphis, TN. Where I stayed for 6 or 7 months in electronics school to learn as much as possible about the electronic equipment in all of the aircraft that the Navy operated. It was there that I met and married my first wife. Thus far I've covered three "homes". By this time I was becoming acclimated to changing homes very frequently. Next I was in Brunswick, Ga. where my oldest daughter was born. I was there for a short while, then sent to an Attack squadron for duty, which is where I stayed the rest of my time in the Navy. While in that squadron I called three places home. One was at Cecil Field in Jacksonville, Florida. The second was the USS Coral Sea that we caught out of San Fransico and the third was the USS America out of Norfolk, Va. While on the Coral Sea we went to the western pacific theatre where we spent time at yankee station along with the USS Midway and the USS Roosevelt. I never thought that I'd like calling the Coral Sea 'home' but the time came that I did. A few times I was sent TAD (temperarily assigned duty) to Danang Air force base. After that the Coral Sea was a good place to call home. I was happy to get back everytime. When we got back to Cecil Field and stayed a little while our orders came for a Mediterranean cruise on the USS America. What a welcome relief. Even though that deployment lasted a lot longer it was considerably easier. It was on that cruise that I missed so much of my daughter growing up. She turned from a baby into a toddler. Having had so many homes over the years I've realized just how wonderful home can and should be. It should be a place of safety, a place to be nurtured, a place where one can truly relax and a place where one can trust. Home for us all, will be what we and those there with us make it. We can choose to nurture each other and it will be a nurturing place. We can choose to protect each other and it will be a place of safety. We can choose to be trustworthy and it will be a place where we and those with us can trust and relax. We can make it a peaceful place by choosing to be peaceful. We can make it an angry place by being angry. In other words, it's going to be exactly what we and those in the home with us choose for it to be. I've had occasion over the years to live in a home that was very loving, and I've also had occasion to live in very contentious homes. "Home". What pictures it brings to mind when we hear the word. What memories spring to mind when we read the word. How often is the word used so casually. All of this begs an answer to questions that we alone can answer. Is God pleased with my contributations to my home? Is my home a place of quality? What am I contributing to my home? These questions need to be answered with some frequency in order for us to hold ourselves accountable in this area. Home...Ahhh...does the very sound of it make your heart glad or fill you with a sence of foreboding. Does the word bring to your face a smile or a frown. The answer, you will find, lies within your own heart and mind. ....And so it goes........

Dog day story number two......

Good Evening again. This is Mike coming to you live from his computer in his den. I've found a soft spot in my heart and decided not to hold you all in suspence about this next post. All this just goes to prove that I do indeed have a soft spot in my heart and that I'm not completely hard hearted. :-D I've decided to regale you all with another story about the young boy that was fortunate enough to spend some time at my house in a long ago summer. At the time of this story he'd recovered enough to start being ready to try new and different things. He'd mentioned at some point that he'd always heard about corn cob fights and wanted to try that. Dennis and I, being the kind and thoughtful young men that we were wanted desperately to fulfill his every dream and desire. So...we began to set the stage for a corn cob fight. The first of the preperations meant gathering up two five gallon buckets full of corn cobs. Then we took one bucket full of cobs and filled the bucket with water. We at that point had nothing to do till we'd allowed the cobs to soak for two or three days. At that point we poured out the water and the cobs and made sure the cobs were good and dirty. Then we set up two barricades and told him which he was assigned to. We even let him pick out the cobs he wanted to use. He, as we'd thought he would, chose the clean cobs. It just so happened that those were the dry ones too. Hey, it was his choice. Now let me explain to those of you not familar with corn cobs that cobs, as with most other things, when wet get heavy and limber. While that's the way wet cobs are, dry ones are very light and sort of float when thrown. With everything in place we took our places to begin the epic battle. Needless to say Dennis and I began to dominate the events of the battle. When we'd step out to throw a cob the young boy would hit us with one of his dry cobs. At the same time one of us would throw a wet one and listen for the sound of a wet and heavy cob hitting flesh. The sound went something like this "THOP" followed by a yelp from the general direction of the other barricade. Soon he began complain about the cobs hurting when he was hit. But, being determined to be brave about things he kept on throwing. After this went on for a while he decided he didn't like corn cob fights and wanted to do something else, to which we agreed. After all, we'd had as much fun with that as was there to be had. I remember that the welps from the hits that he took stayed in place for several days. One would think that after the experiences he'd had he would be leary about doing anything else we suggested, but he, after some recovery time, was ready to try something else. Our next plan was.....well....you'll have to come back in a few days to find out the next set of events. Ahhh...the joys of youth in the dog days of summer. .....and so it went.....

Confusing questions with perplexing answers......

Good Evening to all those wonderful people out there holding their breath in anticipation
of this post. I've been since the last post meditating on how to best broach this subject. I acknowledge up front that I don't have "the" answers, but at least I do have the right questions. :-) The subject for tonight is "Forgiveness". Yep, you read that right. Questions like (1) how do we do it, (2) why do it at all, (3) What is it anyway, (4) What good does it do, (5) What does it mean to me if I do or don't do it. I know there are those out there much better qualified to answer these questions, but let's face it, this isn't their blog, it's mine, right ? :-D I'd like to point out some things that I've learned over the years. First, let me say that the main reason to forgive is because we in the Judao/Christian world are told to by the Bible we read (or at least hear about). But, for purposes of discussion, I'm going to talk about the benefits to us personally, emotionally and mentally. First of all forgiveness is mostly for our own benefit. Of course it's for the other person too, but the most benefit comes to the person doing the forgiving. It keeps us from being angry, bitter, fearful, hateful people. The opposite is true of those that chose not to forgive. It tends to make us angry, bitter, hateful and fearful in our outlook on life. To me that's a good enough reason to forgive. Second, Forgiveness is a choice. Yep, we make a choice to forgive or not to. It's rarely if ever easy. It's rarely if ever a one time thing. Sometime we have to continue the choice for a long time. As long as we are unforgiving we're giving control of our feelings to the person that we feel has wronged us. Let me interject quickly that forgiving someone does not mean that we are going to start trusting them again in the near future. Trust is earned. That too is a choice, but a separate one. I can forgive a snake for being a snake but that doesn't mean that I'm gonna start trusting it enough to pick it up. This is the one of the toughest things that we ever do, but it's one of the most necessary things. Let me say that I've heard most of the arguments about why one can't forgive. I've heard them because I've heard me say them. One last point. The person that is most always the very hardest to forgive is "ourselves". Before we can move past things we do have to work on forgiving ourselves. Not easy, huh? Ok, Ok, enough you cry!! Give us a break you groan!! Alright...Enough wailing and moaning. I'll move on to other things. I just hope this helps someone somewhere. ........And so it goes.........

Young life in the dog days of summer......

Good Evening to the millions of readers out there. (it's my dream) :-D Before I start, a quick shout out to Kate. I have in store for everyone a humorous story that happened one summer during dog days. I was then about 11 or 12 give or take a year or two. We had visiting with us for about a week a kid about my own age. I can't recall his name so I'll just call him the young boy. My brother, Dennis (the one that passed away in 1963), and I looked forward greatly to showing him the ropes of a farm. We intended to teach him as much as we possibly could in a week about how to run a farm. It being in the dog days of summer it was scorching hot. Even the dogs would do nothing but lay in the shade and pant, but not us. The first thing I recall teaching the young boy was about our electric fence. Having a DC output, it wasn't dangerous, but was quite painful when one came in contact with it. We had, that summer leased extra grazing land from some neighbors so we could keep our cattle fed during the summer and until the fall cattle sale. We then put an electric fence around it because it was so much more simple and easy. Our job that summer day was to walk the entire length of the fence and make sure that nothing was touching it that could cause a grounding effect, ie. weeds, branches, etc. Having gotten about half way around we stopped and had a drink from the nearby spring. The water was so good and so clear and so cold. As we sat and rested a bit before continuing our inspection Dennis thought it would be a good idea for all of us to ......how do I put this delicately.....urinate before continuing on. As things proceeded, Dennis, at that point in time, told the young boy that it would be a good idea to do his business on the electric fence, which amazingly enough to me, He began to do without question. Dennis or I either thought he'd be silly enough to do it. But do it He did. Let me say here, that no matter how long I live, and I intend to do that till 2050, I'll never, ever forget the look on his face. His eyes quite suddenly began to light up as his jaw went slack and he began to twitch. Dennis and I sat in amazement that he'd actually done it. We then began to laugh......and laugh.....and laugh.....and laugh....and so on. When he finally began to regain his composure (which took a while) he began to get more and more angry. The more we laughed the more angry he became and the more angry he became the more we laughed. One would think that after that incident he'd never trust us again, but quite amazingly he did, but that's a story for another day about the dog days of summer in or around 1960-1961. If the young boy is reading this I suppose I should apologize, and I do, but I still think it's one of the funniest things I can remember. .......and so it went.......

Departures (2nd in the series...)

It's 9:45 pm and I'm sitting here wondering what I've already posted so I won't repeat myself too much. I think maybe I'll go in chronological order. I think I'll go back in time to a day that almost ripped my heart from my body. My then wife, Yvonne, and our oldest daughter, Kim, and I had set out from home headed to the operations tower at NAS Cecil Field in Jacksonville, Fl. for me to catch a plane to go to the USS Coral Sea. Everyone had boarded the plane but me and I was stretching things out as long as I could. I knew where our orders had us going, but little did I know where I would end up! Remembering that moment in time still makes my heart hurt. I tried and tried to turn and walk away to board the plane, but didn't have a lot of sucess. You see...I knew when I turned and left that I wouldn't see them for a year. That my daughter, Kim, would learn to walk and talk while I was gone. That I would miss at least one birthday. My wife and I just stood as long as we could and held each other. I even considered for a brief moment leaving and going AWOL. (not a good idea, huh?) There were times before I got home that I didn't know if I ever would. Oh well, another time that still brings a bit of pain when I remember it. I'm glad I did finally get on that plane. Now I have not just Kim, but Crissy as well and they are a blessing to me in the truest sence of the word. When I did finally get back home Kim had indeed learned to walk and was indeed speaking in full sentences.
Ok...enough of that. Now for another tip about making it in life to at least 56 years old...... there are three things in life that we should always make a conscious effort to keep in place, To Live, to love and to learn. To have a good life is to bless ourselves and others while building really good memories. To love (ourselves and others) is what makes our lives worth living. Without Love in our lives we can't truly live. To Learn is to always have an interest in God, ourselves and those in our lives. The day we stop learning should be the day we stop living.
Ok....back to work ya'll.....but thank you for taking the time to read this post. It makes me feel special to think that ya'll would take time out of your busy lives and schedules to read what I write and to comment on it. .....and so it went......

Learning Grandparenting skills......

wow...Feb first in the year of our Lord Two thousand and six. I'm sort of surprised to find myself alive after all this time. I've had so many near death experiences I've lost count of them. :-) So when I say to people that I'm proud to be here I truly mean it for real. I've debated for a couple of days what I should post about tonight. I'm not at home right now. My youngest daughter, Crissy, is having some oral surgery in the morning (Thursday) so I volunteered to spend the night at her house and take care of Ty (8 years old) and Gracie (5 years old). Gracie told me tonight that I have ugly toe nails, which is very true. She ask why so I told her that when I was young we were sort of poor and I wore shoes that were too little for me some. She was silent on that but I'm sure she'll bring it up again soon.
Ok...enough of that. Now about the title of this post. I remember well both sets of Grandparents. The are who I learned Grandparenting skills from. My paternal Grandfather, Griffin, was born during the reconstruction years. To be exact in 1882. My Grandmother, his wife Lexie, was born in 1890. They were married for 65 years and produced 15 children of which my father was somewhere in the middle. My maternal Grandfather, John, was born in the same year, 1882. He was a circuit preacher for many years in this area and was very well known. My Grandmother, Mary, was the youngest of them. She wasn't born till 1892. John and Mary were married for almost 60 years before death seperated them. They produced 11 children. So, having 24 uncles and aunts with families I have or had 79 first cousins. Some of them have passed away. I well remember as a child walking with one Grandfather or the other and them holding my hand. They both showed me a lot of things about life, like the value of loving your family and friends. The value of being generous and treating people with dignity and respect. The value of loving your God and your country. That's part of the reason that I so willingly served the United States by serving in the Navy. I learned from my Grandparents to look for the beauty in everyone because it was there to be discovered. Maybe not a lot of beauty in some but some just the same, and now matter how much or little it was there to be found if one looked. I particularly remember one night my paternal Grandfather and I were taking a walk. As we walked and He held my hard He would tell me stories from His childhood, and fasinating stories they were too. On this particular night as we walk around a curve we saw what I thought was a log burning. He told me that no, it wasn't on fire, but that it was foxfire. He broke off a piece of it to take home, but in a day or two it was only a dried stick. I wish I still had that dried stick. I suppose all of these experiences are the reason that I'm the way I am about my Grandchildren. To me they are all an absolute delight and I can't get enough of them.
It's bedtime so off I go......and so it went........