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.

Heeeeeeeeeeeesssss bacl

Well, after a short time off...well, maybe not that short, I'm back in the blogging saddle. I've been catching some flack about taking off, even Needer Mae jumped me Christmas morning about being lazy. So, I'm blogging again and I hope I can come up with a few thoughts. Pretty bad when Needer Mae is upset with me.

Just watched the basketball Hogs beat Oklahoma. Boy, sure brought back Nolan memories. If they keep playing like this, they will be hard to hold in the SEC and beyond. I'm not being a homer...they are that solid and they have the coaching staff to go with their talent. Can shoot the three, rebound, handle the press...all the inegredients of a great team. They could....could...go a long way.

I've been reading some stuff on Nolan and by golly I was in Charlotte NC the year we won it all...I was there, in 94, a few feet from Scotty when he lofted the three that put Duke away. It was quite a night...Clinton was there and I stayed up all night, celebrating back at the hotel with the team, Nolan, all the fans. It was really something, to see a national championship win in person...something I will never forget. Man, I love good college basketball.

Great Christmas. Kids were home and Les' big news has brightened everyone's outlook. A doubledose of good news...it will be quite a time come June. She and Patrick will never sleep late again, that's for sure.

I got lots of nice gifts from Santa. I still am not good at opoening gifts...it is embarrasiing or something. Much rather give gifts and watch others opoen them. Little Luke, the grandboy, was great at Christmas. If you haven't heard the hilarious story about him "learning" about Santa, get in touch with Eric and Amy and let them tell you. It's the best kid-Santa story ever, believe me. What a kid.

Had a good deer hunting season. Saw lots of deer, turkeys, coyotes, squirrels, rabbits, raccoons...you name it. And I made it thru without injury again...I know everyone always wants to know that. I went hunting some with my new crossbow and liked it, too, even bagged one.

Good to see Sandi and her gang Thanksgiving...good to have Kyle back home. I think I embarrassed him when I hugged him, but I needed the hug. We were so worried about him and we are so very proud of him, too.

I've worked some at the church, painting and fixing up one of the SS rooms. It was quite a mess, sheetrock falling in etc...but I got it done and paited pretty and our new windows...five of them...are in and stunningly beautiful. One in honor of brother Harold and one for Joy...they're side by side...isn't that the way it should be. So pretty and we're thankful for Janice and Roy who gave the funds to make them possible. In all, we did five for the church and every widow in done and we'll have a big ceremony later on to celebrate. Everyone please come when we do. I painted one of the rooms that had several coats of paint on the walls...no doubt put there by Pap a time or too. I could feel him there with me and I was using his old paint brush.

A bit of adventure Christmas week at Dardanelle. Peanut and I were leaving her mom and dad's house and headed for her cousin's when my new pickup had a flat tire. It was getting dark, 15 degrees, windy...what a night to have a flat. Turns out I had run over a big carpet installer's razor knife in the road, cut my tire up, and I ended up having to buy a new one. But, boy, was I glad Wal Mart supercenter in Russellville was open. Cousin Buzzy crawled under the truck and did most of the jack work and we took the tire into town and got a new one put on the rim. I was out $145 for that trip, but glad I didn't have blowout on the Interstate.

I may have some news in a few weeks...maybe next blog,...about a new political "assignment." Pretty sure I'm gonna do it...not a real big deal, but I may be "pressed" back into government service on a limited basis. And limited it will be because I enjoy this retirement thing...I got my first Soc. Security payment in November...man, checks from the state and fed...life is good in Sheridowns.

Well, better run. Gotta go check on the dogs. That's all for this time, til next time, thanks for your time.

Hogs et al

Watched the Hogs blow a 13-point lead against Kentucky in last 4 and a half minutes last night. Boy, if Houston Dale had called plays like that they would have strung him up at that big church up in Springdale. Oh well, I've written them off for this season. Be glad when the Roundballers take the court. I have hope with them.

Been on the road some. Big golf trip to Mississippi with 23 other guys. Spent our time in Choctaw Indian casino and the beautiful PGA Dancing Rabbit golf course. The two courses are first-class and I even hit some slots at the casino. First vacation I ever took when I had more money when I got home than when I left. And I opened my golf outing with an eagle 3 on a par 5. Wow!

Since my last blog, I've also gone bow hunting with my new crossbow. And, guess what? Beginner's luck, I guess you'd say, but I bagged one first trip out. Shot it at 50 steps and the arrow took a toll. It was weird, not hearing a loud shot and all. But I like it and I'm going again.

My sis Nita took a bit of a fall...really a "twist" in her living room as she tumbled into her musical organ and broke a bone in her foot and a toe. She's laid up for a spell and we're trying to comfort her as much as she will let us. She's tough, though, and hard to take care of. I called the other night and told her I had her a piece of lemon pie. She said no, not that she didn't want it, but sister Bet had gotten the jump on it and baked her a whole lemon pie. Oh well.

Visiting the Indian territory in Mississippi made me think more of my land here, on Lancaster Hill. I looked at it at sunset tonight, out on my deck, and wondered what it must have looked like here, with the Quapaws villaged here, their teepees and such on the hillside by the creek, all of them busy with their horses, probably walking in the woods, looking for deer and such. It must have been beautiful back then, and peaceful. I feel all of that at times when I look at the land and let my thoughts roam. I think we're all connected to the past in ways we don't always understand. Maybe never understand, really.

Christmas is coming soon and because some have asked...really, some have...I'll write here how to order my book, Benchwarmer, in case you're interested in ordering some for Christmas gifts. Go the to Phoenixbase.com web site and the information should be there. If not, contact me.

(Great) Nephew Chris and new bride Lauren have moved in nextdoor, in Joy's house, and we're glad they are our neighbors. It's good to see their lights on over there at night. Joy would have liked that, knowing (little) Chris is taking over. I sure do miss her, really bad at times, sometimes, not so bad. I miss her smile. I was down at the old house recently, doing some picking up, and I ran across a great big blackandwhite photo of her. I placed it in the front bedroom and she looks so happy. I lucked out on sisters...and brothers...not to mention maw and paw.

I'll be in the deer woods in earnest soon as the so called regular gun season comes in in November. I love to smell the woods in the autumn--hard to explain to some I suppose. But it's nice to be out there amongst the creatures, to see the sun come up and then watch it go down. The moon was full the other night as I drove home from the camp, and the big river bottom was all lit up, like a giant spotlight in the heavens. You could see forever. The moon is so crisp and full and bright in the colder months, the air cold and pure and illuminated. A morning or two later, the first bunch of wintering geese flew over the big timber, a sure sign that winter is approaching. God, I love the cool air. My lungs are refreshing again.

I spent a day in Little Rock with the governor and our little buddy group. It was a special gathering, a day to honor our friend Bill Gwatney. We played golf, our first outing in his honor, and we competed for the first Chairman's Cup, a nice trophy in Bill's honor, a tropy complete with his picture. The familiar pose, the one with his patented big smile. What a tragedy, to lose him so tragically, at such a young age. His young wife, Rebecca, dined with us after the golf event and she looked and sounded better. What an awful time for her, but she is a survivor.

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

autumn approacheth

In one of my old Scoops columns, I wrote about how and why I like to call fall, uh, autumn. I like the sound of the word "autumn." And I love it when the weather cools.

Those who know me know that hot weather is not my friend. I like the cold...and the cool...but if it were up to me, we could skip July and August. That would be just fine and dandy as far as I'm concerned.

Looks like we're headed for another round of rainy weather from Hurricane Ike. The recent hurricane sent lots of rain to our house and the Saline River was higher than I've ever seen it...even made the opening of squirrel hunting season Sept. 5 a washout. The river went over the pavement on 46 south and nearly went over the Highway 167 between Sheridan and Fordyce. It was fierce, too, the water resembling the rushing whitewater streams of Colorado. Really something to see.

I haven't "blogged" in a while and I apologize to my thousands of readers. Just got out of the habit, lost my groove I spect. We vacationed in Florida and had a really great time. We love the beach and our condo is so peaceful, right on the sugar-white beach. It's so nice to sit out on the balcony in late afternoon and watch the sunset, just me and Peanut, all alone, nary a worry in the whole world.

Played in recent Red Apple golf tourney and held lead going into Sunday's final round, but blew it. Just couldn't get to the greens in the horribly wet conditions. Half round on Saturday canceled due to heavy rains and it was the first time in Red Apple tourney history the rain forced play to be cart path only. Golfers understand this lingo--just means it was sloppy wet. But had fun with some of my old buds from political days.

Our puppies are doing good. Ole Newt, the big dumb black lab, is still growin and he's providing lots of laughs. He's learned to jump, finally, and twice jumped up on the bed. Zoey, the smart dog, just watches him in amazement.

We had Nita, my sister, over for supper on her 79th birthday. I cooked some of the fine fish I caught a few months ago. She loves fish. She's doing good. And we have a new neighbor--my great nephew Chris and his new bride Lauren, bought sister Joy's house next door. Whew! We were worried about who our neighbors might be, but the Good Lord sent us a blessing and we're mighty happy. I mowed Chris' grass today, being the good neighbor that I am. It was cool and cloudy and I just felt like mowing and doing a good deed. I have tons of mowing to do, all the way from the old house up to the pond, but it is good therapy. Speaking of therapy, I started some physical theapy today for a bad heel...got about six weeks to do. I have a brand new, good, million dollar titanium knee and now my heel goes bad. Oh, well.

We watched a lot of the political conventions. Obama will win, that's my take on it. McCain's VP pick is causing a stir, but history teaches us the voters never consider this race on VP candidates--just the big guys. Obama by 2 percentage points.

I'm not going to mention the Bill Gwatney tragedy if that's okay. It's just taken too much out of us to talk anymore about. We love him and miss him and I will leave it at that.

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

Joe Boyd, Maters, Kentucks and Grass

I went with Bet and Joe to the spital Monday morning. Joe was slated for k-stone surgery, an outpatient procedure but still serious. Well, after many hours in the waiting room, the (nice) doctor emerged to say things were fine and the stone, well, was gone once they got in there to remove it. A miracle! We brought him home and he's doing better and we're all relieved for a spell. I phoned Nita from the spital to give her surgery update and told her, "the stone was rolled away."

Got a first taste of homegrown tomatoes the other day...some small cherry ones from Jim's garden. Joe and I picked the garden while Jim and Betty were away in San An Tone and I grabbed up six or seven of the tiny ones and made my first of the year bacon and tomato sandwich. Hard to put into words, ain't it. But not hard to put in my mouth. Can't wait for the bigger ones. I also picked a few blackberries from Jim's vines and made my first blackberry cobbler from scratch. Pretty good if I do say so. Took Nita a bowl of it and she bragged, too, but she always does that--brags on me.

Me and John and Tom floated the Saline River last Friday. Put the boat in at Prattsville bridge and 12 long hours later, took out at Jenkins Ferry. It was a long day, but we really hauled in some nice, fat Kentucky bass...about 45. Kept 19 for Tom to filet and he said they sure were tasty. I knew it was a 12 hour float, remembering this from long-ago days when I floated this strip of the river quite regularly. We had 10 or so "pullovers"--where you get out of the boat and pull it over the logjams. Man, you talk about whipped at the end of the day. I could bearly talk and walk when I got home, all muddy and pitiful. Slept good, though and it sure was nice to be back on the river...conjured up lots of nice memories of pap and Harold etc....shore do miss em.

Trying to keep up the mowing, but the grass is growing so fast I'm bout whupped. It sure looks pretty when I'm finished, though. Janice said the place looks like a park and it does. You ought to see the deer walking around in the twilight, munching the pretty grass and tender leaves on the bushes. A buck is already putting down a scrape up by the pond, a little early but I guess he's telling the other bucks to steer clear of his territory. We have lots of deer and other animals on the place now.

I gotta doctor's appointment in the morn...my old broken heel from 1999 deer hunting accident acting up. Can't hardly walk on it at times and I'm sure hoping it ain't broke again. Looked like an egg shell in 99, broke in 7 tiny chips. It started hurting after my recent golf outing at Batesville and I couldn't walk for a couple of days. And I re-aggravated it Monday when I played in the big Pat Summerall charity golf event at LR so I need to see my doctor. I got my photo in the paper at that event...you might have seen it...me and old Jermain Taylor, the boxing champ sitting in our golf carts, laughin and carrying on. It was a good picture and I've gotten calls and letters about it from old pals around the state. My playing partners that day included my fine son, Eric Jason, and Coach Frank Broyles. Coach is 81 but he still plays good golf...specially putting. He sure was nice and gracious and he phoned Ray Tucker, my friend, after the event and asked Ray for my mailing address and Eric's address so he could send us a nice thank you for playing with him and being so nice. We shot a 14-under-par and still finished out of the money. Oh well....

Our church is searching for a preacher and me and Peanut took a prospect and his wife to lunch after church last Sunday. He's from W. Memphis and he's 72 and wanting to retire away from Memphis area...who can blame him. We are not sure yet what to do in our search, but it will continue and we sure are trying hard to keep our little church afloat. It sure is a pretty little church and we have 4 new windows arriving by fall--one of them in honor of sweet sister Joy, and one of them in honor of sweet brother Harold. Thanks to Roy and Janice for footing the bill on these two additions. But our church really will shine once they're in.

Fourth of July at our house. Leslie phoned a little while ago and me and Peanut will put the plans in motion in next day or two. Burgers and hot dogs and we can all chip in with various dishes. At least that's my thinkin rat now.

Congrats to Sandi's boys on their sports...Mason for winning a golf tourney and Lance (the cannon) for baseball prowess. They're really something special.

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

Tiger, Yarnell's, Eulogies and Other Musings

It's been a while, I know. Peanut and Les have been ribbing me about updating my blog so I'm gonna do what they say, else I incur their wrath.

Where to begin?

Mowing grass consumes much of my time, but I enjoy it to a degree. I have lots to mow now. I take care of the old (Lancaster) house lawn, then move northward to mine (which is huge), then up to Janice's and sometimes finish up with the stuff alongside Bet and Joe's road. If it weren't for my big old red mower, I'd really be up a creek, but it cuts my workload a bunch.

I am proofreading a friend's novel, ole Triple L up in Dardanelle. She's Peanut's friend. And mine, too, I hope. I'm thru several chapters and I plan on sending those pages to her tomorrow in the mail. It's a nice story, about several galfriends who grew up in Yell County. I wish her luck.

My first book, Grant County Scoops, is selling at one of the local stores here now. Kinda neat, really. He's put up a sign out front that says, Scoops for Sale Here. I hope people don't think he's selling little plastic shovels, you know, like the ones kids use at the beach in Destin.

I've been trying to email Sandi and the kids down in San An Tone some since K has shipped out for four months. I follow the boys sports adventures thru their grandfather Jim and they are really something. Lance belts the baseball out of the park and Mason goes hard after the golf trophies. Proud of 'em. Of Kyle, too. He's our family patriot.

Speaking of golf, I tied for third at the recent Batesville tourney played on the beautiful Eagle Hills course up there. I hung in there for three days and birdied the last two holes in mounting a comeback. Almost made a hole in one on my next to last hole the last day....185 yards...it stopped two feet from the hole. Then I birdied the last hole, a long par 5, so I was proud of my finish, especially since I hadn't played in a year. What a beautiful and challenging, tough golf course. Love being up there with my buds.

And I watched the Players Tournament and US Open on TV. Paul Goydos lost the Players in a sudden death playoff at the famous water hole. I got to play with Paul several years ago when he was an up and coming pro and I have a photo of him and me here at the house so I was sure hoping he would win. And, watching Tiger at the Open...he's the best...and playing with pain, too. The tournaments are the same without him altho sister Bet roots against him. She says he hogs the money and that he ought to let somebody else win.

I've been fishing quite a bit, too. Loving retirement. Catching a lot of bass and last Friday, almost had something else in the boat--an alligator. He was pretty aggressive, chasing my buddy's top-water lure all the way to the boat. Spooked me, but he finally swam off. The place where I fish...this one...has several dozen gators but this is the first one that was aggressive. Sometimes, they follow the boat and stay a safe distance away, but guess this dude was just feelin' his oats.

I got another golf outing Monday...the Pat Summerall tourney. It's put on my our Ark. Hall of Fame sports group. A big deal. $2,000 for a four-man team. My son, Eric, and local bud G.E. are on my team....we should have some fun. The event raises about 65 grand for our organization and Pat Summerall flies in for it. He's a great guy, but still under the weather and not looking so good.

Other family news is that Roy is moving...my bro in law from next door. He's moving to an assisted living place at Bryant and me and three siblings bought his house. We're hoping someone in the family--maybe Les and Patrick--buy it and move in. We want to leave the land to our children if possible.

And politics. Hillary is out since I last updated so I'll be voting for B-Obama. Gotta go Democrat, you know. I'm ready for some change, anyway. Tired of oil barons in the White House. Gas prices! How can anybody fill up their tank and even think of voting for 8 more years of this nonsense. Wars...inflation...oil prices...yuk!

I delivered a eulogy a week ago. My dear old pal, Roney, died after a long battle with cancer. What a guy. There's only three of us left out of the Boys Club crew known around town here for their hunting and fishing exploits. It was an honor and a privilege to say a few words at his service and it's hard giving him up.

Don't know much else. Sittin here with my two puppies, Zoey Rae and Newt. What a pair. They love watching their Daddy type on the computer. Guess they're easy to please. Whole lot like their dad, I guess. Newt just walked under the computer drawer and bumped my legs as I was completing this. He's a dandy. Loves to jump after the tiny frogs in the yard. Zoey, on the other hand, just watches him and shakes her head in amazement and disgust. Probably embarrassed, too.

Gotta run. Hope my critics who said I needed to update are happy. I'm signing off now and heading in to see if any of the Yarnell's strawberry is left. It's great this time of the year...with the White County strawberries mixed in with the ice cream. You gotta love Arkansas, especially right now, when Jim and Joe are seeing great things in their gardens. Green beans, tomatoes, corn, squash...whew!

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

hunting and fishing and Luke and more

April has been a very busy month. I bought a new Chevy truck and Peanut got a new electric-gas hybrid auto. My old 2000 truck was still running good, but it was time and I sure hated to see him go. But I love my new four-door truck--a smooth ride, indeed. And the electric car sure is something--wonderful gas mileage--we averaged about 47-50 mpg on a recent trip north. Important in this day of oil company abuse and price gouging.

I returned a few days ago from Missouri where I spent several days with my buddies on a turkey hunt. The woods and rolling hills are so enticing, up there in the Mark Twain National Forest near West Plains. We stop at WP and buy our groceries after traveling thru nearby Mammoth Spring, Ark. where the spring river begins, the big spring pouring out of the ground, millions of gallons per minute. Quite a scene.

The first day is spent grocery shopping and setting up the camp, which is very nice, complete with electricity thanks to a wonderful Honda generator. Nice campfire and great food. We're all good cooks and one night I served up ribs, fish and tenderloin medallions, complete with mashed potatoes and garlic bread. We're known for our cooking as much as our hunting prowess--no pork and beans for these cats.

I heard several gobblers and narrowed my hunting spot for opening morning Monday. I got close to a gobbler and had three gobblers answering me as I "set up" on a mountain ridge. But no luck.

Second morning (you can't hunt in the afternoons there...have to be out of the woods by 1 p.m.), my friend John joined me as I encouraged him to go with me since I had heard more than one gobbler the morning before. We heard one about a half-mile below our campsite and trekked toward him as first morn light broke over the mountain ridge in the east. But he quit gobbling. Two more opened up about a mile away and we took off, climbing another large ridge. We finally got pretty close to one of them and set up, our backs against a large black oak tree. John started his yelp calls and the gobbler started inching closer after flying down from his roost. After about 45 minutes still no sight of him. John continued to call and I whispered that I was going to "hit" my call. I did and immediately, and I do mean immediately, the gobbler appeared straight away from me, running wide open, as fast as a race horse, right at me. I whispered to John, "I see him and he's coming right at me." In less than 10 seconds, the turkey was 25 steps in front of me, staring a hole thru me, I assume wondering where his hen girlfriend was. As he walked behind a tree, I raised my Browning Gold Trigger 12-gauge, 3and1/2 shell, and boom! He hit the ground. We picked up the turkey and started the long, very, very long, hike back toward the camp. Using his compass, John steered an eastward course and we trudged up one mountain ridge and then another. Finally, we saw the gravel road. Back at camp, I rested and John returned to the woods to go after another one. Buddy G.E. returned and unloaded a gobbler of his own and we rested after a good morning, a hearty breakfast and a brief hail storm. A great Missouri morning and a great Missouri trip. Two big gobblers and me in good health. A year earlier, I was laid up at home with a $100,000 metal knee. It felt fine after the mountain climb, too.

Back home, I rested and caught up on family business, including a wedding shower, and returned to one of my fishing spots this morning, rising at 5 a.m. and making my first cast by 7:15. It was cold and windy and the fish didn't co-operate much, but I brought home six which is plenty for me and Peanut's next fishfry.

I like this retirement life. My next big adventure is a golf tourney in June at Batesville with my buddy Seve and my partner Rocky. Hunting, fishing and golf--keeps a feller busy.

Oh yeah, the best part of it all was working in a trip to Sherwood where grandson Luke Bo Duke and all of his classmates put on a big show at school for grandparents day. What a great kid. They sang and did other things and he was honored as one of five kids in the entire school...and it's a big ole school...as outstanding Christian leader. The hunting and fishing won't make me cry, but seeing my grandson..well, a little tear or two is okay for a grandfather, I think. I sure do love that boy and you should have seen his "science" project...snakes and a weird "combination" animal.

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

See the USA, in your Chev-ro-let

That was the theme song from the Old Dinah Shore Show, if memory serves. That's what I'm about to do, in a new Chevy truck. I bought a new one and I pick it up tomorrow. The down side to this is I'm trading off my red 2000 Chevy, the one with 94,000-plus miles etc. I get attached to my vehicles and I'll be sad to leave my red truck behind when I drive away in the new four-door, extended cab gray one. I felt the same way back in 2000 when I picked up the red one and left my big ole Bronco behind at Gwatney Chevrolet in Jacksonville. I loved that big ole Bronco, but it was about to poop out on me, having run a little rough after the engine caught fire and all. The repairs fixed it up, but it never was the same, really, and I knew it. But, just the same, I loved my Bronco and I hated to get rid of it.

I think it's a southern thing, this sentimental attachment some of us have to our pickups and such. But my red truck has become a part of me, way I see it, getting me back and forth to many an appointment, getting me to the bass lake and the deer woods...just a ton of good memories associated with it. It's not a bunch of steel and rubber tires to me and maybe it's because new cars and trucks are still rare things for me because of my upbringing.

We didn't have a family car until I was a junior in high school and Daddy bought Aunt Kate's old Chevy car when she and Uncle Carney passed on. It was white and grape colored and a pretty nice car. Daddy always drove a pickup and that's about all we had. I inherited the Tarantula, a '53 Plymouth car after Bob, the car's owner, went away to college. I loved the Tarantula and drove it back and forth to school, even though it needed repairs. I wired on the muffler with one of momma's coat hangers and I painted on the whitewalls to try and spruce it up a bit. The battery was dead as a hammer so I had to park on a hill every time I stopped and get the car to rolling and pop the clutch to get started. But me and my buddies sure liked that old car and it was about all we had in the way of wheels.

Maybe that's why I like new trucks and cars and treasure them so much. Why I hate letting them go, especially when they are "loyal" and reliable. The first car I "owned" after leaving the nest was a blue Ford Falcon. I could gas it up for $3 back when gas was 13 to 20 cents a gallon in Pine Bluff, which was always in the midst of a gas war. My $65 a week at the Pine Bluff Commercial, where I was a wet-behind-the-ears sports writer, provided me enough money to make my Falcon payment and buy gasoline and food. My apartment was $50 a month, utilities included.

Sportswriting there provided me with my first new car, too, a beautiful red Chevy Camaro from Smart Chevrolet in Pine Bluff. Boy, it was a beauty, with flip-out headlites and all. I drove it to a brand new job--sports editor of the NW Ark. Times in Fayetteville. It was a fine car.

Oh well, I haven't owned too many new cars or trucks in my 60 years, but I look forward now to my new purchase. It will give me ample room for my buddies and my puppies and my hunting and fishing gear as I head to the fishing cabin. I'll try not to look in my rearview mirror as I drive away from the dealership...I don't want to see old red sitting back there without me. I hope his new owner treats him with the respect he deserves and I sure will miss him. He was reliable, never once requiring a trip to the repair shop. That's quite a proud pickup legacy.
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Speaking of the fishing cabin, the recent heavy rains have hurt some folks but the overflows will greatly benefit the White River Refuge in south Arkansas where I fish. We haven't seen this kind of (pretty) water since 1973 and it is sorely needed.

Funny isn't it. I haven't heard any of the pitiful gloom-and-doomers yelling about the so-called disappearing acquifer lately. Folks who want to channelize the White River and spend all of these millions of federal dollars to ditch the delta disappear when the flood waters come. Floods look bad on TV and they will do some damage, but they are also nature's way of replinishing the good earth, flushing out the rivers and oxbows and letting nature have a much-needed drink. We will benefit greatly for many years because of this overflow and people who build houses in the flood plain will build again...because they like living where they live. They know the risks when they lay that first brick. You can't fool (with) Mother Nature.
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As our church treasurer, I've been in charge of a new stained glass window project. Our pretty little Christian Church has many beautiful windows and now we're buying four more to finishing everything out. They will be beautiful and they're being donated by various people. This latest effort started when friends and family of Rusty Compton donated funds to put in a window in Rusty's memory. Now, we're adding others in memory of my sister Joy and my brother Harold. And the Grove family is purchasing one for their family. Good folks who love their little church.

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

Redfield Road harbingers

The first "real" harbingers of spring for folks out here on the Redfield Road have arrived. The yard is full of orange-breasted robins. I assume they're making their way north from wintering days in Mexico. I know I can always tell when autumn is just around the corner, too, when these same birds fill the yard on their southward trek.

Seeing these birds brings back my memory of Mack. I was 10 years old or thereabouts and was patrolling our back yard with my trusty bb gun. I didn't mean any harm, but I aimed at one of the big robins and fired away. The bird tumbled over and I ran to pick him up. I could see a crease across his head where the feathers were gone, a sure sign my copper bullet had grazed his head. He was dazed, but otherwise looking okay.

I picked him up and took him to mother, of course. She cradled him in her hands and rubbed him and he started to come around. We kept him in the house for several days and provided the best of care, hoping he would be all right. Seems like I remember we let him sit in a shoe box. After several days, I took him back outside and he hopped away. I'm not sure if he was unable to fly, but he got his bearings and hopped away into the weedpatch over by Si and Beulah's. I said, "Goodbye Mack." I had named him Mack after Mac McKenzie, our bald-headed school superintendent.

A year later, I was back out in the yard, with my BB gun, and aiming away again. To my surprise, I looked at the robins and there he was, the familiar streaked head, Mack. He was back and hopping like mad. It was good to see him and I was so excited. I yelled at him and I swear he looked back at me. Looked back as he flew away. He had learned the hard way not to hop slowly when there was a country boy doofus with a gun. I hope he lived a good life and I hope his head didn't get cold when he flew into the colder climates.

Other big news is I picked up my two big largemouth bass from the taxidermist. A ten-and-a-half pounder and a nine-and-a-half-pounder. I caught them October 30, 2007, while fishing with my brother-in-law J Boyd. On back-to-back throws with a BooYah black spinner bait. They were huge in the water and actually pulled our boat around. I turn big ones like this loose, but I kept these because I knew my chances of ever catching their equal was slim and I wanted them on my wall. They sure are pretty and they dwarf my other two mounts from the early 70s, the ones weighing just under 8 pounds. I love bass fishing and I honestly think I would go every day if I could. And I'm going more and more now that I'm officially retired and I love it. Caught some dandies last week and earlier this week.

Grandson came down and we played in the pretty snow. We got about 5 to 6 inches here and it was a pretty wet snow, easy for making snowmen. I hooked up the sled and pulled him around the north 40 behind my 4-wheeler. Ultimate rednecking in the white stuff and he loved it. The photos are amazing and if you who know his parents you can hook up on the internet and look at the boy's photos. He's quite the camera hog. It was a great day and one I'll always remember, seeing him laughing and yelling as I pulled him thru the snow. It was weird to see the snow melt as the green grass emerged. Usually, the grass under the snow is brown.

Gotta run. Hogs play Vandy this afternoon in the SEC cage tourney. We have a good chance of winning, but I figure we're in the big dance regardless. Ole Miss and Florida went down in the first round and they could have "bubbled" the Hogs out, but I think we're assured a big dance ticket now. And me and Peanut have tickets to the big games at Alltel next weekend...boy that will be fun. She loves basketball as much as I do. Looks like Tennessee and perhaps Kentucky will be in the Arkansas tournament...and maybe the Hogs. Wouldn't that be something?

So that's my news. Not too exciting. The big news around here is our police chief being implicated in an FBI probe. Lots of rumors flying around the Redfield Road area about possible bad cops. It'll all come to light soon and I hope it ain't as bad as some folks 'spect. I hate it when people get themselves all in a mess.

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

redf

In like a lamb...

I guess March "blew" in lamb-like, in easy-enough fashion, warm temps and all, and then the snow. Peanut's pap says 13 inches up in the mountains and I bet it was pretty, up there at Nebo land. Bout the time the gobblers are set to tune up, the "white stuff" (the TV boys always say that) appears. Here, it snowed about an inch or so and the oaks were beautiful, each little limb outlined as pretty as I've ever seen them. All along the Little Creek bottom, where bro-in-law Roy ventured out bravely with his Kodak to snap some pretty shots.

Wal-Mart was swamped, of course, the milk-and-bread people out in force. Reminded me of the Seinfeld episode I wrote several years ago, entitled "The Blizzard of 96." It was a high point in my writing career, the call I got from Hollywood saying my script had won approval. Mine was to be script 113, the producer lady saying they had 112 already ahead of me, but I was still overjoyed, knowing they liked it, liked me, liked what I'd put on paper for Jerry and Elaine and George and Kramer, how Kramer strolled out into the New York blizzard to buy bread only to get run over by the bread truck. Elaine shows up at a TV interview with Jerry and does an emergency stand-in as the weathergirl. And Jerry debates when the windchill ends and the heat index begins. "I mean, why can't we have a wind chill in the summer?" he asks his mom on the phone.

Anyway, I still remember some of the words and I have my copy of the script here somewhere around the house. I've re-read it a couple of times and still like it. Oh, and it never made it to film as you know...a few weeks after I got my call, Jerry announced he was retiring the show. And they still had more than three years of scripts in the can. But, he went out on top and I give him high marks for that.

Got tickets to the upcoming regional NCAA's at Alltel...it ought to be a blast! Probably get to see Memphis, maybe Tennessee, one of which will probably get the Number 1 seed. Hogs could surprise, but I am doubtful of their chances since they have to play away from Walton.

Not much else to report. We survived a week of flu, down and pretty bummed out. Now Sis next door is snifflin' with it and I just hate that. I'd rather have it myself than see my loved ones down. I hate the stuff and I hate flu season. It's the only thing that makes we wish for warm weather.

I picked up another nice art piece, this one from a local lady who is putting her brushes aside after 70-plus years. She's so talented and so nice to call and invite us over to make a selection. What an honor and she was so happy that I love art so much. Once you have these nice originals around, you are lost without them. The new one hangs nicely in the green room where our guests spend the night.

Must run. I'm glad I had time to update the blog so Triple L up in the hills won't be fussin' at Peanut about my laziness.

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

Who Knows What the Tide Will Bring?

Because of Nita's exhaustive (and exhausting) research into the fam tree, we're excited to read all about our past. I thought about this tonight after viewing (again) one of my favorite movies, "Cast Away" with Tom Hanks, our cousin.

Yep, he's our cousin...a bit distant, but our cousin.

I still can't believe Helen Hunt gave up on her search. If only she had held out, but he went on down to Texas and the movie leaves us believing he found his soul mate after all, the pretty girl in the old Ford pickup like Pap used to drive. The pickup I learned to drive, backing up and back in the driveway while Pap snoozed on the couch.

But I do look at Tom Hanks differently now. Kinda weird, knowin' he's kin. I keep looking for a resemblance of some sort. He kinda has Chris' hair...kinda talks like we do, too. Anway, I always thought he was about the best actor around, him and Harrison Ford and Eastwood (Outlaw Josey Wales...now there's a movie, bub.)

Yep, settled in for the movie after watching unranked Wake beat the Blue Devils. First time Wake has beaten a ranked team since 1994 and that's when they beat Duke, Duke going on to the Final Four to be beaten by the Hogs in the championship game. I was there, at Charlotte, when Scotty hit the big one. I found an old photo the other night, of me at that game. I sure was lucky to get to go to so many places and see so many fun things. Me and my buddies stayed up all night that night, at the hotel, where we had rooms where the team stayed. Nolan was happier than ever that evening, apparently finally shedding some of his inner strife...but he really never did. I hated that for him cause he was some kinda wonderful coach. I miss those kinds of teams. The guys we have now...well, they sure can let you down. Good one night, sorry as heck the next outing.

Ate some fine fish for lunch today. We cooked up a big Sunday meal for son and daughter-in-law and Luke Bo Duke. He's lost a second tooth now, both in the middle, front, bottom row. He's a dandy and he loves fish, especially when I catch 'em and they're fresh. We rode in the golf cart, visited Bet (Joe was napping) and we inspected a dead beaver afloat in the pond. Best I can tell, he was a victim of the cold weather--that can catch a beaver off guard some time. Luke poked him with a stick and was amazed at the animal's big flat tail. I told him it was nature in the raw.
He's getting real good at driving the golf cart. Like Leslie did when she was tearing up and down the hill here.

Not much else to report. Peanut has the day off tomorrow, honoring our Presidents and all. We'll probably be lazy and not do a whole lot, resting up from our big night out Saturday at the fancy eat place in the capital city. It costs an arm and a leg, but it sure is tasty. I like the piano player, too, and he plays some of my favorites, 'specially when I put a big tip in the glass jar. I always ask for "Send in the Clowns." I guess it reminds me of my days when the legislators came into town.

Speaking of Prez Day, I'll always remember when me and Bob and Harold went to the horse races on one of those Mondays. The traffic was jammed and Bob was antsy so he got out of the car I was driving and started walking, so he could get inside and get his double bet down. Finally, we got close to the track entrance and Harold got out, too. I told him I would find a parking place and I told him I had some box seats, to meet me at Window 4. Well, I looked to my right and right in front of the front entrance there was a vacant spot at this little motel. I pulled into the spot and the manager popped out to say I couldn't park there. "How much will it cost me?" I asked. He said I could park there for $20 so I gave him his money and walked inside where I got to Harold quickly, before he even got to the box seat place. He asked how I got inside so quickly and I showed him the car, parked right in front. He asked how I got to park there. I told him I gave the man $20. "My God, Bill," big brother exclaimed. I told him it would be the best $20 I would spend all day. We laughed and went about our business. I'll always remember him that day, the way he grinned and said, "My God, Bill." He said that a lot to me, seems like. Like the time I cleaned out my closet and phoned him to ask if he needed any golf shirts. "How many you got?" he inquired. "Oh, at least a hundred," I said. "My God, Bill," he answered, just like I knew he would. And the time Eric and I returned from a sensational bass fishing trip. We had 60 big bass, all about 5 pounds, laid out on the lawn at the east side of the house. Harold drove up, got out of his truck, walked up and walked around the back of my truck and saw the bass. Yep, he said it again, and then laughed that great laugh.


Well, if you haven't seen Cuz Tom Hanks in Cast Away, rent it sometime. It's good. It has several memorable lines, like when he tells Helen Hunt, who is dripping wet, "You have to go home." And then the closer, "Who knows what the tide will bring?"

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