A Quick Trip to New Zealand

Not many people in Harper have been many places. Most people take a vacation to visit relatives usually only a few miles away. I am one of the few that has been to Europe and if Hollis hadn't put a lot of pressure on me to go I would have been among those who haven't. We have only two people who have been south of the equator. Willie's son, Jackson, has been on several mission trips to Africa. I think he has been to ten countries over there. Haplo Walsh has been to New Zealand. But it was by mistake. About twenty years ago he was in the Los Angeles airport on his way to visit a cousin that had moved there many years ago to work in an aircraft factory in the Oakland area. He was in the process of changing planes and heard an announcement for a flight that was ready to take off for Auckland, New Zealand. It was last call and Haplo took off running and asked for the right gate as he moved along amongst all the travelers. They saw his rush and pushed him on the plane and had him seated by a nice young lady with a very strange accent, that's the way Haplo tells it. After about five hours Haplo realized something was wrong. He called a stewardess over and asked when the plane was due to land in Oakland. She told him it was scheduled to arrive in about twelve hours. He said he had not signed on for the scenic route and became a little agitated. It wasn't till then that Haplo realized he was going someplace he had never heard of. When he told us his story all those years ago, we remarked that at least he got to see New Zealand. Haplo said, "If you've seen one airport, you've seen 'em all." Seems like he spent only eight hours on that island and was shoveled off on his return trip to Los Angeles.

Lists

Yesterday, I was talking about whiteboards. Well, I hate to say it but Dorothy's got one. It has magnets and is stuck on the side of the refrigerator. She leaves little notes of things that need to be taken care of. It's stuck up there for me. She expects me to look at it every time I pass by and do one of the things on the list. My reward is I get to mark off a thing when it's done. Dorothy is a big list maker. She has list for the cafe, home, and outside activities. That means one for each of her "clubs" and she belongs to several of  'em. I can see the merit in keeping a list, but sometimes I get a little put out with so much organization. I think life needs to sorta flow. When I told Dorothy this, she said that would be nice if the river was slow and easy going, but it's nice to be prepared in case you come upon rapids. Last night  we were in New Orleans and Dorothy wanted to eat at this fancy French Quarter restaurant. The waiter came up with this thick black folder and wanted to know if we wanted to see the wine list. I told him absolutely not. My little attitude led to a long conversation, across the swamp bridges and all the way home. Unfortunately, Dorothy's part of the talk consisted of a series of lists; lists of things I was doing wrong and needed to correct. I am heading out now for the hardware store to buy me my own personal whiteboard. I am gonna stick it right beneath Dorothy's and I am gonna write on it (in red): NOTHING FOR TODAY. THANK YOU VERY MUCH.

What Happened to the Blackboard

When I was in school every room had blackboards. I mean one wall was windows and the other three walls were decorated with blackboards with only a couple of doors to break the chain. And we used them. Usually there were at least twelve pupils standing there figuring, at least several hours every day. The other day I had to go to the local school to pick up some books being donated to the library and I was surprised to see only a couple of white boards in each room, right up in front behind the teachers's desk. And it looked like they were used only by the teacher. I started thinking what these kids were missing out on. One of the uses for the blackboard was to embarrass a student that wasn't prepared for class. The teacher would call them before everybody and get them to reveal their knowledge, or ignorance as the case might be. This was usually good for a laugh, unless it was me that was called on. Also blackboard were messy and gave some lucky kid a chance to leave the room and go out to the steps that led to the red clay basketball court to beat the chalk out of the erasers. It was the only time we got hold of the teacher's paddle instead of having the paddle get hold of us. I hear they don't have paddles anymore. But my favorite thing about blackboards was how the chalk could be made to screech if you knew just how to do it. This got under a lot of people's skin especially teachers that were going through the change of life. I reckon I prefer blackboards to whiteboards, all in all.

Dew Drop Inn Shooting

Out in the county we used to have this place called the Dew Drop Inn. It wasn't an inn at all (it was what we used to call a dive); four walls, a roof, and a dirt floor. They sold beer, mostly in cans, and had at least one violent disagreement a night. Occasionally they had to call for an ambulance to pick up what was left of the one that came out on the short end of the fight. One night this fellow named Harvest Hollington was playing the pinball machine and had racked up a lot of wins which meant he had a lot of free games to play. It was three o'clock in the morning and the man that managed the place was ready to go home. He told Harvest to finish up, but with all those games left to play he was of no mind to leave. The man told him if he didn't stop right then and there he was going to shoot him. Harvest just laughed. Well, the manager did pull out a small pistol, aim for the seat of Harvest's pants, and pull the trigger. Luckly, Harvest had a wallet crammed full of papers, sugar packets, and other assorted things that a wild young fellow might carry around. He also had two one dollar bills, but I doubt they helped to slow the bullet too much. Anyway the bullet came through the wallet and lodged in the buttocks of our pinball player. An ambulance was called and Harvest was hauled off to Harper General where he was stitched up and sent home. After about a year his limp was hardly noticeable.

A Lack of Communication

I was having breakfast down at the cafe this morning. Actually, I was sitting around with my third cup of coffee, I had finished my ham and eggs about an hour earlier. Hembert Hanks came up to me and asked to borrow five dollars since he had left his wallet at home. I was getting it out of my pocket, but he held my arm back wanting to explain why he was having to borrow from me. It seems his wife was at home but would not answer the phone since she was mad at him. He said he had said something last week that got her upset. I told him that was an easy one, all he had to do was apologize and it would be over in a day or so. He said the problem was he had no idea what he had said and she wouldn't tell him. He said he had been sleeping in the guest bedroom and watching television down in a basement room where the pool table was set up. His wife, Maydeen, wasn't cooking or washing his clothes and he was at his wit's end trying to figure out what to do. I recommended he give her a generic apology with the hope that she would give him a hint about the supposed insult to her. This afternoon he came down to the lake where I was doing a little fishing and told me it worked. He had told her she was right to be upset with him and what he said to her was real insensitive and down right cruel. Maydeen looked him right in the eye and said, "You just don't know how deep a cut can go when I stand in front of a hot stove and fry and steam and bake and you say my food is pretty good." And Hembert being a fairly smart fellow looked her right in the eye and spoke in a voice as soft and sweet as when he asked her to marry him. He said, "I am so sorry. What I meant to say was the meal was good and it was pretty too. I just forgot and left the and out." He said she bought it.

Fifty Years in the Canaries

It's kinda funny but Ricky wasn't the first person from Harper to live in the Canary Islands. We had a woman (I was telling about her and her family last year) that married a man who was from Spain. They settled in the Canaries and she came back to Harper about the same time Ricky left after that trick they tried to get on him. Anyway, Ricky and his girl, Marie, drove straight to Savannah, Georgia where they caught a boat to Lisbon, Portugal and from there they went to one of the Canary Islands. Ricky told us they were married on the boat by the captain. I reckon captains can do that, that's what I always heard. When they got to their final destination, Marie's uncle had a job waiting for Ricky. He must have done well and the uncle must have liked him because he ended up owning the banana farm. Ricky calls it a plantation, but that has other meanings in the South, so I'll keep calling it a farm. Ricky says Marie's uncle was the father he never had here in Harper and that he and Marie had a real happy marriage except they were never able to have any children. I asked Ricky who was running the farm while he was gone and he said a young fellow named Jose was there and everything would go just fine with him in charge. In fact, Ricky said Jose was like a son to him and Marie and they planned to leave the banana business to him. He said Jose had married a girl from England he met on one of his marketing trips. Seems like most of the bananas they grow go to England.

Ricky Comes Home

Ricky Shawmate came home yesterday. He's the boy that ran away from a practical joke over fifty years ago. I told about that yesterday. After he was gone we found out a lot about Ricky. He had an overpowering daddy that wouldn't allow him to have a lot of friends. Seems his daddy belonged to this small church that believed everything but breathing was a sin. Yesterday, we learned from Ricky that he knew about the prank before he went out on that country road. He went along with it because it was part of his plan to escape his daddy's harsh rule. But it turned out Ricky was more running to something than running away from something. He had met this girl at a church camp that his daddy had approved of. She had driven over from Selma, Alabama and was waiting in a car on a little country lane that hooked on to the road where the shotgun toting poppa gag was to take place. Ricky knew all about the place and plot of the scheme. Turns out the girl in Ricky's life had an uncle that owned a banana farm in the Canary Islands.
Tomorrow: Fifty Years in the Canaries

Trick Went Wrong, Or Did It?

An old trick that has probably been tried in every small town around the country went real wrong when it was pulled on Ricky Shawmate. It was in the early sixties and Ricky was a kinda shy fellow that lived on the outskirts of Harper. Everybody knew he was not knowledgable in the ways of love because he never went out with a girl or nothing. The trick was a bunch of guys would spread word that a girl from out in the county was willing to provide love to any number of boys. Ricky was asked to join in and around midnight of the night in question he was standing in line by the open door of an old Ford automobile. All of a sudden a big man in overalls came running up and fired a shotgun in the air. He yelled out, "I'm gonna get ever one of you guys. And especially you Ricky Shawmate. Y'all move away from my little girl." At that point everybody took out running and met up down at the Sweets and Burgers to laugh about their joke. Hap Lincoln, the one in the overalls, was among them. The next day at school Ricky Shawmate was absent. Then word came out that he hadn't come home that night. It's been over fifty years since that night and no one has seen or heard from Ricky, that is until today.
Tomorrow: Ricky Comes Home.

Waddy Today

Waddy Poole still lives right outside the Harper city limits. He runs the dairy farm he inherited from his daddy. Nobody say much about his Wednesday night confession at the church where he used to attend. The preacher what said the bad word when he heard Waddy's confession become a missionary and is now in Nigeria or some place in Africa. We figure Waddy learned from his mistake and is leading a pure life. In my case, I figure it ain't nobody's business what Waddy does as long as it don't affect another human being. I think he's a pretty strong person because he doesn't seem to mind his new nickname. I reckon there's a lot worse nick names than Cowboy.

Confess Yourself Wednesdays

We used to have this church that had what they called Confess Yourself Wednesdays. This was a time when the preacher urged everybody to stand before the congregation and open up with all they were doing that was a sin. Everybody thought these services were a big success because of the large crowds that were drawn in, bigger than on Sundays. I reckon they had this confession feature for at least ten years. I once heard a woman from that church say Wednesday evenings were better than a party line and you could find out a wealth of information in the space of two or three hours. Unfortunately, or maybe I should say fortunately, these service came to an abrupt halt about a year ago when Wadsworth Poole made a confession to beat all confessions and sent several women running from the meeting. The preacher was heard to say, " Damn, boy, I don't believe I would have told that one." The church called a special meeting and decided it was best for Waddy (that's what we all call Wadsworth) and the preacher to find a new worship home. Waddy for his unusual and bizarre sin and the preacher for cussing in the church house.

Curtis Ray Keeps Us Up to Date

Y'all might remember me talking about Curtis Ray Ickleburg and how he gets things a little mixed up because of his hard of hearing problem. Well, we come up with enough money to get him a hearing aid and even though it wasn't the most expensive on the market we thought it would help a little. We have been greatly disappointed. He came into the barber shop today telling us about the news he had heard on his television. First, he told about these people that were sailing on a boat and were stranded out in the Curry Bean Ocean. They were without air conditioning and had to walk around amongst feeble matter. He said feeble matter was what they called all the old people that were in wheelchairs and on walkers. Then he moved over to the meter that fell out of the sky in Russia. He said it caused a chronic boom and busted out windows when it broke the sound barrel. But what was worse, we were all in danger because a giant hemorrhoid was closing in on Earth and might kill a lot of people. He said he heard they had one before that caused a lot of damage. That was what caused Dinah Shore to disappear from the face of the Earth. I reckon we better put the jar out and collect more money for a better hearing aid.

Reading Like a Writer (Hollis)

Reading Like a Writer by Francine Prose
Close Reading - Words - Sentences - Paragraphs - Narration - Character - Dialogue - Details - Gesture - Learning from Chekhov - Reading for Courage
Examples of each topic from works of the great writers of world literature.
A book I will reread many times.

Dorothy and Her English

I reckon y'all know when I let Hollis talk me into doing this blog thing, I agreed, with one little demand; that he write it the way I say it. Well I got a little confession. What I meant was that he write it down the way I talk when I tell my stories. I don't always slaughter the English language in my every day speech, not that I speak perfectly. Dorothy wouldn't let me use my "story language" when she was around. If y'all have been reading this blog for a while you may remember Dorothy went to Millsaps and got a degree in English. She taught school for three years before her father died and it became necessary to come home and help her mother in the cafe they owned. Dorothy has been reading my blog lately and has given her opinion that the language needs to be cleaned up. She thinks it may be confusing to all the readers from other countries. I told her I would try it. So from this day forward I will talk to Hollis more like I do when I talk to Dorothy and he will try to write it down that way. Hollis tells me it will be easier on him to do this. And unless my readership drops off or I get a lot of complaints I will continue to do it that way. Who knows?

Listening

Now y'all may think I'm a big talker from me writing all this stuff all the time. At least from me telling Hollis what to type out for me. Well it ain't so, that I'm a big talker. I am a big listener though. While I were working down at the library yesterday a young fellow come in looking for a book what were named War and Peace. I looked it up and found it for him and it were a big thick book. I told the fellow that the man what wrote down this book must have had a lot to say. He said he were assigned to read the book and were dreading the task ahead. Then he asked me something what kinda set me back. He wanted to know what were the main advice I would give him about living out his life. At first I thought it might just be a smart alecky kinda question but from the look in his eyes I figured he really did want my comment. I thought a minute and told him I reckon the most important thing I could tell him were to listen more than he talked. I said you already know the things you gonna talk about but you may hear something new from what other peoples says. He gave me a funny kinda look and said, "Is that all? Is that the most important thing you can come up with?" And I told him it were and he better be off and start reading if he were gonna finish that big book. I doubt if my advice took with him one bit.

Dorothy's Way of Cooking

A lot of womens 'round here, what is known to be pretty good cooks, will take a pork chop, pour over it some mushroom soup, stick it in the oven and serve their families a pretty good supper. Not Dorothy. She has to take real mushrooms, real cream, real herbs and spices, and mix 'em up in a bowl before she pours it over the pork chop what has already been powdered down with flour and more herbs and spices. I ain't sure I'm telling it right but I know she goes to a lot of trouble and can do it all without it looking like it are a lot of trouble. She told me one time that the other stuff tastes pretty good but she would not be able to serve it 'cause she would know for herself that in warn't done right. One day when Dorothy were out of town I found a can of soup in the pantry and wanted to warm it up for my dinner. There warn't no can opener in the drawer and I had to run down to the hardware store to get one. When Dorothy were back and were fixing some food in the kitchen she called me in and were holding the can opener in her hand. "Where did this thing come from," she asked.

Welcome to Mississippi

I were down at the Harper Bake and Serve this morning picking up some day old bread for the Mission to Feed the People program and run into Mary Doris Sweeney. She give me some interesting news 'bout Catherine Agnes Reeds. Cathy moved out to California after high school. I remember her saying she were going where the action were. I think she sort of fancied herself a actress 'cause she always tried to talk with a English accent and used her hands a lot. We did see her in a couple of picture shows, but that were years ago and they were just them black and white detective kind.Well, it looks like Cathy are moving back home. Mary Doris got a letter from her what said she were more in the relaxing mood than the up-and-running mood. She said it cost a pretty penny to live out there and she were coming back to her mamma's house what has been just sitting there empty for at least twenty years. I reckon it will be good to have her back, accent and all.

Jacob Lewis' Mole Hole

I reckon most mens has a place where they go to get away from their wives. I can go to this little study on the second floor of my house. I got a TV and books and a desk to write and draw on. But this fellow name of Jacob Lewis what lives down the road a piece has to go out in the wash house to get away from his wife, Mablean. He's a real interesting person what works crossword puzzles, in ink, and what listens to ballgames on his radio and what smokes a pack a day of Camels out there. One thing special about Jacob are his way of coming up with things to save money. Like he goes to North Carolina about twice a year to see a sister up there and brings back enough cartons of smokes to last till his next trip. They is cheaper up there. And he makes his own menthol cigarettes. I has seen him a million times as he pulls out a Camel and with his long index fingers seizes a little glob of Vicks Salve from the jar and slides a thin strip down the unfiltered cigarette. And wah lah you has a Kool. Ever time I has been to visit Jacob he are in his mole hole, that what he calls it, except on Mondays. That's wash day. Monday you can find him sitting on the bench out front of the bus station, him and his Camels and his jar of Vicks Salve.

Dim Watts

I seen this thing on the interweb yesterday what said: While awake, a human brain can generate enough energy to power a light bulb (between 10-23 watts.) It kinda got me to thinking. Have y'all ever seen a 25 watt bulb in action? A room lit by a bulb of that size are dim and pinky looking. Them number of watts don't hardly give out enough light to find your book much less read it. If we all walking 'round with brains under 25 watts (a lot of 'em way below that) how do we ever figure out anything. No wonder we always making the wrong choices if we can't see bright enough to decide what one are the right one and what one are the wrong one. We got this fellow 'round here, Carlos Dean Watts, what are known for his bad choices. He's married the wrong woman, four times. He's been in ever multi-level marketing scheme what come to his door. He's bought into gold mines, silver mines, swamp land in New Jersey, and he were once going 'round bragging 'bout how he owned four feet of the Golden Grate Bridge. His name were Carlos Dean, but we all called him by a nickname: Dim. Dim Watts. I reckon the world would be a better place if we could figure our a way to feed our brains up to at least 60 watts.

 

Super Bowl Party

Last night we had a bunch of peoples over to watch the Super Bowl. My friend Willie and some of his kids and their kids come over along with about a dozen other neighbors. The weather were pretty good so we moved the big screen out on the back patio and set up chairs for ever body. I build a fire in the outdoor fireplace and we was real comfortable in our sweaters. Dorothy always has shrimp on Super Bowl night. She had fried shrimp, grilled shrimp, boiled shrimp, and shrimp salad. There were three kinds of salad, her special homemade potato chips (regular and sweet potato), and three kinds of pies with ice cream for them what wanted it on their pie. Y'all probably heard Baltimore won in one of them games what we is so used to seeing lately where one team gets way behind and comes way back. Some of us was talking it would be good if our economy would do that. I reckon it could if we could quit fumbling and throwing interceptions.

Streetcar Named Desire

Me and Dorothy watched a movie on television last night what were called A Streetcar Named Desire. 
Dorothy knows a lot about this picture show and were explaining it to me as it went along. It's about a Mississippi school teacher what are having personal problems and goes off to live with her sister and her sister's rough and tough husband in New Orleans. They is having problems getting along and this sister moving in just adds to the boiling. It were from a play by a guy named Tennessee Williams, a man what were borned in Mississippi. Go figure. Anyway, I seen this movie years ago and I think of it near 'bout ever day. The reason are my neighbor's dog. They named her Stella and she runs off a lot and requires to be called home. My neighbor tells me he recorded the man in the movie at the part where he calls out real loud to his wife what were also named Stella. He can play it at a high volume and the dog will come running home. This saves his voice so he says. "STELLA, STELLA." I might have to say something one of these days.

Guests From Baltimore

Flo's B and B are filled up, all 12 rooms. Most peoples come from Baltimore and are here for the Super Bowl game in New Orleans. I taken one of the mens what is staying down to the library where I volunteers to look for a book on fish and game for this area. He said he might come back to hunt and fish. When we was getting out of the car Curtis Ray, the man I were talking about the other day, come up and started talking to us. Curtis Ray are the one what don't hear too good and what is always getting things mixed up. When he found out the man were from Baltimore, he told him he wished his team good luck. He said he were a big fan of the Baltimore Ravers, but he were really partial to baseball and like the Baltimore Oreos more. He also said he never had cared nothing for the San Francisco Forty Miners.