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.
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
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.
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.
Monday, April 28, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
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.
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.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
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.
Friday, March 14, 2008
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.
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.
Tuesday, March 4, 2008
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.
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.
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