So Long?

I'm thinking about quitting this blogging business. This could be my swan song. Take care.

The Girls

"The girls" are going to their "new" home Monday. Geneva and Lexa will be leaving their comfortable digs at the hospital and going home with maw and paw. They're doing good, weighing 5.6 and 5.14 at last count. I was there yesterday and held both of them and fed them and rocked them and sang to them and even had my picture "took", too, while holding both of 'em. They are pretty and they look nothing alike and they just laugh and grin and look at you and it's just heartwarming to say the least. Ole Les really outdid herself, this time. Their daddy is pretty good at changing those little bitty diapers, too.

Haven't swung the golf clubs in individual play since my Sunday bust at Batesville. Me and pard were one out of the lead going into the last day and I couldn't do a blame thing, really. It was so disappointing, to be so close, and blow it like we did. But, there's always next time. Even Tiger has some downs to go with his ups.

Bass fishing last week was as good as it gets. We hauled 'em in over in the Grand Prairie, behind the big cypress trees, in the clear, green water. Big bass, healthy and big enough to rip the rod out of your hands. I had my line (20-pound test mind you) broke twice in an hour and that hardly ever happens to me. The first time, well, the big rascal got away with my Bomber crank bait that has been so good to me. So I went and bought another one. This could be one of the most incredible fishing years ever--it sure is fun and I just hope I have a few years left to do it. And the refuge is an incredible place, black bears and beautiful bald eagles. One lake where we fish has an eagle nest that is the size of a car, up in a big cypress tree, made out of big limbs. You can see the two eagles sitting up there, watching as I catch some of their fish.

Watched the US Open today and Tiger is playing poorly. Well, he's doing all right but the other guys have a huge lead. I think he's out of this one, but who knows?

Don't know much else this time. Eric, Amy and the Boy are coming down tomorrow to honor me on father's day. Luke calls me Pop and we sure have fun. He sure is growing up and I bet he'll wanna go fishing up at the pond tomorrow. He likes riding in the golf cart, a tradition for kids out here on the Hill. I can't wait to see him. He's one funny and enlightened kid. He steals my heart every time I look at him. Grandkids can do that, you know. Peanut made special dessert and we'll eat like kings. Life is good.

That's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.

Ice Cream Horror Etc.

A horrible news item on the TV. Two "thugs" in Little Rock shot the ice cream man. Well, it was a woman, really, but how horrible--they shot the poor young woman who is driving the ice cream truck. I mean, can we sink any lower? The bell rings and kids run out to pick out a tasty frozen pop or a scoop and then the shooting starts. Man, it takes all kinds (of scum) these days...I mean, shooting the ice cream truck driver. Depressing to say the least.

We used to sit at the living room window out on the Redfield Road and watch for Mr. Earl, the grocery man. He or one of his workers would deliver the food in a little red Ford truck. We'd get all excited, looking for Mr. Earl's truck to round the bend down by Mable's house. He would bring the groceries in in a wire basket. Momma would have us all worked up over the groceries coming and we'd promptly help her put them away. Sometimes, we would get Popsicles and they sure were good. Occasionally, we would be treated to a Coke, in the small bottles with the town name on the bottom of the bottle. Momma would put them in the freezer on top of the ice box and the Coke would freeze in the bottle. Then, she'd poke a hole in the metal lid with an ice pick and we would suck on the frozen mixture for a good hour or two. Man, she was smart. It was her way of treating us AND keeping us quiet. She was something, all right.

In other thoughts. I played six straight days of golf last week. SIX! You talk about whuped. I was tired and disgusted when it was all over. My partner Mike played good enough to get us almost in the lead in the big tournament at Batesville and then his luck went sour the last day with some twisting three-putts and I couldn't do much to help him.

My adventure started with my old political buddies in a three-day retreat up in the mountains. We had fun at Batesville and Greers Ferry and then I was back in Batesville for the three days of the tournament. Made some impressive shots along the way--including two chip ins--but I sure was tired at the end. I know now why the big boys on the tour have to take an occasional break. It's more mental than anything, but I love it. In fact, I'm hurrying thru this writing to get to Pine Bluff to play in a charitable event at noon today. Then.....I'm going to do some bassin'.

The twins are still progressing. Gaining weight and all and are slated to go home with proud parents in about a week. They sure are pretty and I loved holding them and feeding them at the hospital. Peanut posted a bunch of photos the daughter sent us of me holding them. It's a weird feeling, having twin granddaughters.

Not much more to "allow" on this post. I'll write more next time, but I gotta run on over to the Bluff City for the tourney. It ought to be fun.

That's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.

They're here

When I was a punk kid, I would stand at the window and watch for Bet and Joe or Joy and Al or Nita and Lee--well, all of my relatives--when we were waiting for company to arrive at the little house out on the Redfield Road. When they'd pull up in the circle drive, I'd yell, "They're here." And the excitement would follow.

Well, it was like that Monday, on Memorial Day, when the twins arrived. I never am at a loss for words--don't remember when I was at a loss for words--but I find it hard to find the right words even now when I describe the arrival of grandchildren. Luke was the first and what a wonderful, uplifting treasure he has become. And now Geneva and Lexa, Leslie's and Patrick's twin girls.

We got the important phone call that morning. I was scheduled to play golf but plans were put on hold because of the rain and then the site of our scheduled match was moved from Hot Springs to Pine Bluff. But I told my playing buds I better not go because I had a feeling that the babies were about to make an appearance. About five minutes after cancelling my golf outing, the phone rang and Peanut and I were missiling out of Sheridan en route to Fayetteville. She wanted to drive because she says I don't drive fast enough, but we made it in time. I'm afraid as nervous as she was, if she had driven we might have overshot the hospital runway.

We got there about an hour before the girls were born. And before the day was out, we were in the room looking at them. What an unbelievable sight, two of them, both little darlings. One blonde and one brunette. Healthy, pretty, plump and just a beautiful orangy color.

We all marveled at the sight. I mean, one baby is miracle enough beyond words and now we have two, these tiny little babies that belong to us. And one of them named Lexa Joy after sister Joy. Man, you talk about heaven singing all day long and don't you know Joy is smiling that wonderful smile of hers.

I look back a lot more these days, on life, on my many blessings, on my missteps, on my wonderful family and now I've lived thru a lot of god-awful things long enough to see this, my second and third grandkids. Who would have thunk it. I sing the good Lord's praises and I'm so thankful for the wonderful people in my life who make each day a joyous and wonderful experience. I love every breath I get and I sure am breathing a lot easier now, now that Leslie is ok and her little girls are here and they are ok, too. They are so pretty and little Luke is accepting the fact now that his two new cousins are both girls, although he held out hope until the end that one might turn out to be a boy. He just wants to know now when he can see them. Now that will be some photo.

Eric made it to the hospital in time for the births, too. He was about 45 minutes behind us. He just grinned all afternoon, real proud of his little sister and all. He sure is comforting to have around. Just like me, Peanut says, and that makes me proud when she says that. Now we'll have little babies to pass around Christmas at Bob and Martha's. That'll make Martha happy. She's lost without a baby to cuddle. She was excited on the phone when I told her all about the girls. If it works out, we might even get to have the Fourth of July gathering. Leslie likes that one and now that the girls got here a little early, that holiday celebration might be a consideration again. We'll just have to wait and see if they're up to traveling by then. Might not be.

Well, that's about all now. I do have some golf coming up...three days with my old Senate buddies and then on to Batesville for a weekend tournament. All of that was on hold pending the birth of the twins, but I suppose I'll get to go now. Maybe I'll play good, not having so much on my mind an all now.

That's all for this time, til' next time, thanks for your time.

miss california

Do any of us really care what Miss California thinks about marriage? She's entitled to her opinion but the news media need to get a life when it comes to pageant contestant views on marriage or anything else, really.





Speaking of which...isn't this rain something? I'm long in tooth now but this relentless rain has been the beatin-nest thing. Arkansans always talk about the weather, but this time it may be justified. Big Bro and Bro-n-law are about ready to throw in the towel on their gardenspots and my bass fishing has been put on hold because of, yep, too much water! Whoever heard of such nonsense. Fish bout to drown.





I spect we'll be beggin for rain by August when we be parched and dry. Bout the time Les and Pat are knee deep in diapers. That's gonna be something, a family doubling in size overnight. What a blessing.





Went to grandson's second-grade program and he got a certificate for making all A's. He also had a dandy poster on wildlife, including some informative displays about snakes. Hard to believe he'll be a third grader next year. I remember the third grade and it was a big step up from the second. Start to learn things in third grade, lifetime things. It was about the time I started reading my books instead of chasing the little redhead around the reading table.





The church is looking toward a "homecoming" celebration around Christmas time so you can look for future announcements. We want to dedicate our new stained-glass windows, two of which were named for family members--Joy and Harold. They are so pretty and the little church sure stands out now. I hope all of our family members can plan on coming--we need you.





Sandi's boys are still achieving great things in sports--baseball and golf. We're all proud of them. I've been on the links more and I'm hitting it a ton (for me) with my new equipment and added stamina from my weight-loss and weight lifting workouts. Yep, you heard right. I'm trying hard to improve and so far, so good. Golf is truly an amazing game and most humbling. Some days, well, you think you're better than ever and the very next day, it turns and you leave the course shaking your head. You would think hitting a little ball which is sitting perfectly still would be easy, but it can be the biggest of all sports challenges. It's why great athletes from other sports go crazy when they take up golf, but I sure enjoy it. And the courses are so pretty, too.





As I said, my fishing has been put on hold because of the flooding, but my springtime fishing was perhaps the best ever. Tons of big bass and Peanut's dad went with me one time and landed a limit (20) of the biggest crappie you'll ever see. Some weighed over 3 pounds. I'm so fired up I bought another boat and even had a new outbuilding put up for storage. Too bad we didn't have pro bass fishing when I was younger--I would have tried it.





I see Karen out walking one of her dogs. I hope she's feeling better. She's having a very rough time since her fall. I worry all the time about her. Maybe better luck is around the corner.





I'll close with grandson Luke story. I sent him a check for making all A's. His dad asked him what he was going to do with the money and he said, "I think I'll just go to Wal*Mart." His dad asked again, what he intended to buy once he got there. "I don't know," the boy said. "I might just go wild!"





That's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.

Baseball Memories

Chief Justice Earl Warren said he turned first to the sports pages of his morning paper to read of man’s accomplishments before checking out Page One to read of man’s failures. I understand his point, and his frustration, but the sports sections these days reveal a lot of failures, too, especially when it comes to steroids, spoiled baseball players and out-of-control executives.
It’s sad to see baseball sink so low. It was one of our staples in Grant County years ago. In summer months, the game was about all we had for entertainment. TV was still in its infancy, viewers relegated to one upstart station which didn’t sign on until 4 in the afternoon. It was too hot to sit in the un-air-conditioned houses so naturally we lived for baseball and the two nights each week when we put on new uniforms and showcased our talent at the city’s new Little League field.
I ran across some old newspaper clippings from the halcyon days of my baseball youth. The article talked about the opening of Little League season and how the town was anxious for the new park to shine under the AP&L lights. Pap kept the scorebook for all of the games and people came from all around to watch the Yanks and the Cubs and the Cards and the Phils swing away for the new wooden fence.
As I get older, I think about those wonderful nights under the lights, up where the sycamores offered soothing shade from the setting sun. A sprawling school complex sits there now, fancy cars parked where we used to slide into second base and whip the ball around the horn. No sign of the little wooden snack stand where Joe Wilson, a gangly high schooler, thrilled little kids by opening the Coke bottles with his shiny senior ring. No evidence of the old haunted house across the street, either, where kids swallowed hard before dashing into the spooky front yard to retrieve the errant foul tips. A rescued baseball could net a kid a free Coke or a giant Zero bar, and when the ball sailed over the backstop, the race was on to see who could rescue the prize. The most vivid memory from those wild scrambles remains the terrible car crash, the night little Jack was struck and almost killed. The kids had never seen so much blood on a human--doubtful that any of the adults had either—but Jack survived. He was a tough, witty, gritty kid who, not surprisingly, died a short time later on a Vietnam battlefield, protecting his fellow grunts from a grenade. He deserved a better fate and so did his revered family, but he made our town proud, the way he saw his military duty and done it in the distant killing fields.
The memories have lasted a long, long time and that’s why it’s sad for an old ballplayer to see the storied game, once labeled the national pastime, in such disarray. Don’t even care to turn on the fancy big screen to watch the Redbirds or the Braves. The old Braves skipper is still a favorite, himself an ex-Traveler and all, but it’s just not worth the time now to see these pumped-up robots do their thing. Good grief, they even vacated the house the Ruth built!
The news in March about George Kell dying dredged up some of my baseball memories. I used a Kell-Kaline bat back in my days, out at the Oliver Williams legion field. Frank I and Doobie were my managers and they did a lot of good things for us. Mr. Oliver drove us thousands of miles, too, in his roomy station wagon and we rewarded some of their efforts by winning championships, even claiming a prized spot in the state finals. We had a very good team, the pro scouts drooling over some of the talent, and we captured a lot of trophies, some of which still claim a prominent spot on the crowded bookshelves. I’ve held on to a couple of my old gloves, but I wonder if I could catch a ball now or go deep in the hole at short to throw out a speedy runner. The knee replacement surgery probably put an end to any comeback dreams. Better be content to just dream and sit in the big leather recliner, in front of the giant Sony. A few folks around town still ask about my pitching days, even kind Alderman Cummings openly bragging to people at a courthouse gathering that I still hold the state strikeout record.
One of my favorite legion ball memories was a night on the mound when young Mike Tygart made his debut on our team. He had moved to Sheridan in the summer of 1964 with his family, fresh out of Babe Ruth battles in Pine Bluff where he was heralded as a promising up-and-comer. Manager Frank put him in at catcher and after a few warm-up tosses, he hustled out to the mound to talk. He raised the mask and asked politely if we could go over the signs, the customary finger waving catchers do to pitchers in order to co-ordinate the types of pitches to be thrown. “How about 1 for fastball and 2 for curve,” the kid said confidently as he turned to walk away. “Fine,” I answered, continuing. “And 3 for slider, 4 for screwball and closed fist is what I prefer for my change-up.” He turned back and smiled at me through the big mask and quipped: “Hey, I think I’m gonna like playing ball with y’all.”
Turns out the cocky kid became the best all-round athlete of the whole bunch, going on to excel in every local sport long after we had left town for college ball. We didn’t know it, that night of his legion ball debut, but we were about to leave the Sheridan baseball program in very capable hands with him as the next steady leader.
The memories fade in and out when I try to remember the games and the players, but I do enjoy thinking about it. Back when it was the love of my young life. Back when Murry and Mr. Holmes and Newt and Roy Winston inspired us to stretch our abilities and imaginations. Back when a game of work-up helped pass the time on a Saturday afternoon after we had sat for a while with Pap to watch the Game of the Week on the old black-and-white. Back when a nickel and a penny would buy a Coke and a handful of salty redskin peanuts during our mid-day break and back when Dickie entertained all of the swooning girls by revving up his newest Corvette. Back when kids wore flattops and Joyce and Joe served hamburgers for a quarter. Back when church bells rang on Sunday morning and overflow crowds gathered at the courthouse for election results. And back when Sunday afternoon at the old Sheridan A’s field was the greatest treat in the world for a wide-eyed kid growing up out on the Redfield Road. Bookie and W. A. and Jerry and Paul were bigger than life to me back then, the way they could throw a baseball and jack with each other. And when they slugged one over Highway 167 in left, over by the service station, well the crowd roared their enthusiasm and I logged it all away in my little noggin, knowing even then that what I was seeing could be gone one day, but knowing full well, too, that what I was seeing could be comforting lifelong memories.
We drove up to see the nephew play ball last summer. It was enjoyable and after the game I asked if his team had ended up on the winning side. “Oh, we don’t keep score,” one of the parents quickly opined. I asked why and was told that none of the parents wanted the kids to ever think they were “losers.” I didn’t say anything in response, but I was thinking on the trip home that some of my best lessons probably came from ballgames we lost, maybe even when I struck out on a Wally Britt round-house curve. And, I was also thinking that sometimes we over-protect our kids. My old managers were tough and they didn’t mind chewing us out when we lost a game or threw wild to first base and I think my old bunch turned out pretty good.
I know my grandkids will learn a lot of valuable lessons along the way and that I won’t always be around to help out, but I hope their leaders, whether on the ballfield or in the classroom, don’t sugar coat things too much for them. I hope they learn that you can learn a lot in life and a lot about life by doing your very best, by giving your all. And if you come up a little short on the scoreboard, well, that’ll be alright, too. The old Indian chief told Outlaw Josey that the only sage advice he got from the government was that he should endeavor to persevere. I think that’s good advice. I have my baseball memories and no one can ruin any of that. Maybe those who follow me will find a favorite sport, too, like I did long ago. And I hope the next bunch will endeavor to persevere. Our country will need that.

It's (Irish) Spring

Triple L stayed a few days with me and Peanut. I cooked big meals every night and we tried to be Five Star hosts. Even put a chocolate mint on her pillow the first night after turning back the sheets, just to make her feel more at home. She said today the most lasting memory of the whole stay--well, that we had Irish Spring soap for her scrubbin'-up. Seems her granny liked Irish Spring, too, and seeing the minty-fresh soap at our house and using it for her shower--well, it brought back a lot of happy, pleasant memories for Triple L and that is a nice thing. She even told Peanut that she went out and brought some for her own home up in the hills so I'm glad she got reacquainted with Irish Spring. I started using IS soap several years ago after trying unsuccessfully to find Lifebuoy. Found out it's pretty close to what I was searching for and I really do like it now. I'm like Triple L--I don't like showering unless I have my Irish Spring with me. I pack it in my suitcase when I travel soast I can feel at home when I'm away. I also like to carry along some Tums and a photo of Peanut.

Speaking of home and being away...I got back today after a few fishing days at the cabin down south, down in the big swamp. Pretty wild country, the big refuge, stuck between the White and Mis-si-sip. Me and buddy John had another fine trip, fishing and looking at wildlife. I didn't catch any 8 and a half pounders this time, like I did a couple weeks back, but we hauled in plenty and we saw some pretty gobblers in the big woods. Got our fever up about turkey hunting, which is just around the corner.

I won't be discussing my new commissioner duties on this here blog, but a funny thing did happen at my meeting last week. An inmate showed up to testify and when asked to state the reason for his appearance, he told us, "I'm here on behalf of my shoes." It was all I could do to keep a straight face, but I managed somehow. Seems the fella was down on his luck and wanted money because two other inmates had stolen his sneakers in prison. I guess technically he was right when he said he was at the hearing "on behalf of my shoes" because the shoes, which were presented as evidence, were unable to say a word.

I'm looking out my south bedroom window as I write and I see the big redbud tree north of the old family home is in full bloom. Pap would like knowing this, seein as how he pulled up that tree years ago down in the Saline River bottoms and brought it home for a new home. It's big and tall now, bout 30 feet tall, and it is an early harbinger of spring, which I think officially arrives tomorrow.

I'll close on a sad note--my old buddy Kern, who was a running mate of mine at the Capitol for years, passed away two days ago. He was a great guy. Kern had polio when he was young and he had a bad arm, but the handicap didn't prevent him from living a full life. He loved to hunt and fish and he "served" our state as a legislative lawyer for 46 years. He was the top dawg at the legal arm of the legislature at the time I retired a spell back and he was always so much fun to be around, to sip Joe with, to talk over the fall rut, to catch big bass at Hampton's. Man, he did a lot for Arkansas and he had a ton of friends who sure will miss him, but thank the Good Lord for him and the days we got to be with him and watch him joke and smile. Friends are such treasures. I have a ton of 'em and I'm a lucky feller.

Oh yes, the daugther is fine up in Fayettenam and her twin daughters arrive early July. As John Wayne said in the big movie, "That'll be the day."

That's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.

Hog memories

We watched the Hog cagers Sunday afternoon and they whuped up on the Ga. Bulldogs. The Bulldogs must be pretty bad for us to win as easily as we did, but we did look a whole lot better than in previous outings.
We watched because it was the "reunion" game, a time set aside to honor the 1994 champs. Nolan was there, his white head shining, and Big Nasty and Scotty and Big Dog and so many of the young men we loved so much.
It brought back a lot of personal memories. I was one of the fortunate Arkies to be in Charlotte NC that afternoon long ago in 94. I was seated only a few feet from Scotty when he took the pass from big Dwight and lofted the shot with 51 seconds left in the game. Yep, right there, watching it all. The shot, like being in a car wreck--it seemed to float in the air forever, but it did go in and I started hugging my three buddies there with me, knowing we had them Devils right where we wanted them.
It's a sweet memory for me, to know I was there when our university accomplished something it will probably never see again...at least while I'm still around. I followed the Hogs a many a mile, from Dallas to Atlanta to Birmingham to Rupp...and it was a very fun time in my life. I talked with Corliss the other night, at our Hall of Fame reception, and thanked him for giving us those good times. He's such a fine young man and I think, one day, may be the Hogs head coach. I can't think of a better one, or one more deserving.
But I was there, in beautiful Charlotte, in their new arena, with President Bill and Grant Hill's daddy and Digger and loads of celebs...watching that super talented team. I ran into Digger at halftime, the night before when we were beating Arizona, and he assured me the Hogs would win it all. His confidence helped me, too. He knew I was a Hog fan--the red rubber Hog nose on my face probably gave me away.
Yep, I wore the Hog nose back then...all over the south, and I cheered em til I had no voice left. I remember one painful night in Atlanta, just out of the hospital from my first knee surgery, when, after the game, we couldn't get a cab back to the hotel. .It was a very long three-mile walk, but I made it. I was so sore the next day, I could hardly get out of bed, but I had to be back courtside at 2 and I sure didn't wanna miss it. And I didn't...not ever...not even when my traveling buddies were reluctant to make the long trips, but I loved watching 'em...they were something in their prime...Lenzy Howell, Corliss, IBM. I watched 'em embarrass North Carolina to win the regionals at Dallas and I traveled from there to Denver for the 1990 Final Four. But nothing compared to Charlotte--I got to see the national champions and we celebrated with their great coach and the players and all the fans all night long, back at the hotel where we all stayed. Who could sleep? Who would ever forget it all. Man, I was lucky to see all of that. I'm a pretty lucky guy in a lot of other ways too and I thank the good lord ev-ah day.
The win over Georgia today got me to thinking...I wonder if we could get on one of those hot runs, like we did in Atlanta when Joe Johnson and Brandon Dean and the boys surprised everyone and won it all. Maybe...who knows? Oh well...
That's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.

Twin girls--who would have thunkit?

Spring--an early one--is fast approaching and I'm even energized to the point of updating my blog. The big...big...big news is that my daughter is going to have twin girls in June. Two girly granddaughters! Man oh man.

Peanut and I are so excited over the news. Daughter isn't saying what names they've picked out, so Peanut has decided to call 'em Lavern and Shirley. Pretty funny, huh.

I'm so blessed, family and all. Now this. I think a lot about life and its mysteries, the blessings, the pitfalls, the big ole rollercoaster we hop aboard when adulthood arrives. But it, life I mean, sure offers up some beautiful blessings along the way and now, twin girls. Luke, the grandson who arrived seven-plus years ago, was hoping one of them would be a boy, but I bet he'll be happy with the results once he sees 'em.

It will be a busy summer to say the least.

In other reflections...I've sure had sis Joy on my mind a lot lately. It may be the yellow daffodils popping out of the ground. She loved yellow--my favorite color, too. We talked about yellow being our favorite color. One time, at the bank, up in her big office high above the city, we talked about yellow and she had clipped an article out of an airplane magazine about why people like certain colors. She said yellow meant that we were upbeat and positive people and I liked that. She sure was, about the most upbeat and positive person I ever knew. And, I think I'm a lot like her really and that's a good thing, a very good thing.

I lucked out on bro's and sisters. Momma and pap sure did good, with all seven of us I suppose. I still talk to Brother when I mow the hill on his tractor. I talk to him just like he was ridin' with me, which, I get the feeling sometimes, that he is--there with me, I mean. He loved to mow on his tractor and I picture him up there, sometimes about dusky dark when I'm out on the deck, cooking a ribeye. I look up there, by the old well, and I see him, real plain sometimes, gliding past the chinaberry tree and the big walnut tree, spinning around in circles on the yellow tractor. Maybe he bought a yellow tractor because he was like me and sis, upbeat and positive. He was like that, too, always grinning and chuckling. Nephew Chris does a great impression of him, laughing and saying he's gotta get on up the hill. Brother sure would be proud of Chris, the way he's cleaned up the hill by the creek, up where Brother used to battle the briars and all.