Our Easter Crowd

Tomorrow is Easter and we expect a lot of people staying with us tonight and tomorrow night. They are coming from three different states. I thing we will have less than twenty and more than fifteen (some have semi-committed.) Dorothy is ready with enough food to feed a small army. I have been cleaning up the boats for those that want to take a spin around the lake or do a little boat fishing. The grass has been mowed and raked and I replaced a couple of bulbs in the outdoor lighting. Probably the two best things about having a lot of company is greeting them when they arrive and saying goodbye when they leave. Of course, there is a lot of enjoyment in the middle too.

Sticktoitiveness

"Never give up" might be a good motto. And then again it might not. Like Jayspurs McVey, a man that died a few years back, investing in a silver mine in Colorado or New Mexico or some place out there. The people that were heading up the expedition kept coming back for more money to buy special drill bits or other new equipment. They were always just inches away from the payload. Jayspurs died poor. Minnie Whitmorse never married. She said she was waiting for a brave knight to come riding up on a white horse. When she died last year the pallbearers turned out to be the only men who ever took her out. Heflin Burkehammer, a local lawyer, has joined every multilevel marketing scheme that came to Harper. Yesterday, down at the barbershop, he vowed never to get involved with another one. He said he figured if he had spent as much time building his practice as he had trying to get rich quick he probably would be rich or at least richer. About that time Millard Maize started telling about this thing he just got involved with called Luster Lust. All you had to do was sign up three people and get them to sign up three people and you were assured to be making at least $1000 a week within a year. Heflin left with Millard saying he would come back later for his haircut. Giving up may not be a good thing, but I can't find a lot of fault with a fellow who does it.

Hope and False Hope

Ain't it interesting how people can turn things around to suit what they believe or hope for. Like in politics, both parties have what they call talking points. If you listen carefully all they amount to is justifying something that has happened or is going to happen. One of my favorite scenes from a book I read years ago was when a father was explaining his son's oft repeated mischief to his own daddy, He said something like: He ain't a bad boy, I just can't think of enough things to tell him not to do. Trying to both justify and to move a little of the blame over to himself, doncha know? What got me thinking about all this was the weather this morning. It was down right cold, particularly for this late in the year. The wind was blowing and the clouds were low and threatening. Old Cleavon Webstalk came into the cafe where we were all sitting around discussing the possibility of snow. We hardly ever get snow down here and I reckon we were in a deep hope for a small blizzard. Cleavon was puffing and shivering and his black winter coat was covered with white flakes. One of the fellows suggested that if Cleavon didn't have one he ought to stop by the hardware store and buy a snow shovel to take home with him. Marilou Barnpark, a wise and observant woman, had a different take on the situation. She suggested a good medicated shampoo.

Skyfall (Hollis)

I asked Uncle Harvey Lee if it would be okay if I wrote today's blog on my own. I wanted to talk about the new Bond movie Skyfall. He said he didn't mind because he wasn't of a mind to see it and even if he did he would not want to talk about it.
Last night my girlfriend and I settled down to watch Skyfall. As with all Bond movies we didn't talk a lot during the viewing. It was as we expected loaded with action. After it was over we looked at each other and started laughing. We both had the same impression. It was the least original of all the 007 films. They borrowed from Home Alone (the old house in Scotland,) The Silence of the Lambs (glass cage,) MacGyver (making the most of crude resources,) The Fugitive (going over a waterfall,) the old Saturday serials (hero didn't really get killed after all,) and various soap operas (killing off characters who will be leaving series.)
There will be more Bond movies; they indicated that in the last frame. Hopefully, an original plot will evolve. However, with all we've already seen it may be easier to imagine a new and heretofore unseen color.
In spite of all this we did enjoy this action packed film.

A Little Coat of Paint

I saw this thing on TV where over in Haiti they are painting up the place. The idea is when things are bright and pretty people feel better about themselves. And people who visit or hear about them will think better of them too. I think the paint was free and I expect they have enough people with enough time to do the work. There is a town in the next county that is real rundown and needs a fix up. And there are companies that will donate paint for a renewal project. All it would take for them to accomplish a real makeover is leadership. Everyone has an excuse. Even me. First it ain't really my town and second I'm too old. I recon when it come to initiative Haiti has one up on us around here.

Crime and Punishment (Hollis)

Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Rodya Raskolnikov - impoverished student - old woman pawnbroker - ax murder - innocent witness murdered - madness - family loyalty - poverty in 1860 St. Petersburg - living with guilt - feelings of justification of crime - prostitution - confession - Siberia

Spring is Coming On

Last week we noticed the first signs of spring. I'm guessing by Easter everything will be completely green and flowers will be blooming all over the place. When I was young it seemed every Easter the weather would turn off cool. The old folks called it the Easter snap. I don't think it happened every year but often enough for people to set a notion that it could be expected. Easter was a good excuse for buying new clothes. Some of the more well-to-do folks bought new suits and complete outfits. Some people for reasons of necessity or frugality just bought accessories to brighten up old clothes. Anyway things are getting springlike. You can already hear the lawn motors all most everywhere you go. Soon people will have to mow twice a week to keep up with things. We have been blessed with a mild winter and things couldn't have been more pleasant except for the abundance of rain we had over the last few months. The lakes and ponds are full so we can be thankful in spite of the inconvenience of a little flooding.

Telling Stories

One of the things I'm known for around here is telling stories. I like to speak to small groups because I get a little nervous when the crowd is more than ten or so. Years ago one of my boys gave me a piece of advice that has served me well when the audience is large. He noticed that whenever I rode an elevator I always struck up a conversation even with total strangers. He said I should just pretend I was on a real big elevator. And it worked. It was better advice than the one I read where a speaker is supposed to imagine the audience was all sitting there in their underwear. I tried that out and got tickled at the ones who were wearing long johns. When I tell these little tales I speak in a down home voice and pay little attention to the rules of grammar. As some of you who have read this little blog right from the beginning will remember I insisted that Hollis use the same language on this blog as I use when I tell my stories. Dorothy has taken over typing things in and since she was an English teacher she cleans it up a bit, but not completely I'm happy to say. The stories I tell are based on true happenings, mainly. I don't lie a lot. When I was a young'n mammas and daddies would say, "Are you telling a story?" That meant are you lying. Now and then, well mostly, I change the names of people who are still living or have close relatives who are still living, unless what I'm saying is extremely complimentary. Of course, that circumstance is rare. Anyway, thanks for reading my stories and if you want a taste of the language I use when I talk to a group start back at the beginning of this blog.

Black Wedding Dress

That girl Tanya I was telling about yesterday, the one that scared the hiccups out of old Holbrook and started him in to stuttering, got married last Saturday. And she wore a black wedding dress. It seems that when she and her boyfriend, Carl Gene, went to see the preacher that was going to marry them, she learned things about weddings she did not know before. The preacher told them the reason the bride wore a white dress was to reveal to all her purity. It was also a signal to the groom that she was untouched and was giving her husband a clean and wholesome body. Tanya went into the Brides and Bridesmaids Shoppe down in the next county to look over their dresses. She didn't see what she wanted there and was shown a catalog and told she could have any dress delivered within two weeks. She picked out a black dress. The lady that runs the shop was concerned that she may be ordering something she would not really want. But Tanya assured the lady that she knew what she was doing. She said that after the preacher told her about bride's dresses she didn't see any option but black.

Maybe the Hiccups Weren't So Bad

Holbrook Swinfelder had a bad case of hiccups that had lasted for weeks. He started out trying all the old home remedies and nothing was working. His friends joined in and tried the old "scare the pants off" routine. They took him out in a car and pretended it was out of control going down Miller's Hill. Holbrook was definitely scared but the hiccups still plagued him. Down in the next county there is a honky tonk called The Do Drop In. And in this club there works a woman, Tonya (nobody seems to know her last name) who is right in all the right places. Holbrook's good buddies talked her into coming up and meeting with the hiccup victim with the idea of giving him a little jolt. They knew how shy Holbrook was and that he had never had much too do with women. Particularly a woman that left no doubt that she was a woman. They took Holbrook to the Drive In movie and made out like they were going to the snack bar. Holbrook didn't want to go because of his affection. Just after they left, Tonya climbed in beside Holbrook and started into running her hand through his hair. Then she started in to kissing him. She said later that Holbrook's arms and legs went limp and she was worried that he was going to pass out. After a few minutes of this, she leaned back and in a voice of startled recognition said, "You ain't my husband. How dare you?" Then she left. When his friends came back Holbrook did not say a word about his visitor, but his hiccups were gone. The problem is now he stutters real bad.

A Hail of a Night

Harper County had a hail storm last night. The TV said it was golf ball size hail, but we had one stone I brought in and put in the freezer that was twice that big. Luckily, we had both cars in the garage because an old truck I had parked down by the barn had a windshield that was broken out. I don't mean cracked, I mean broken out. Today, Amos Sniffer, from down the road, is going to climb up on the roof to see if there is any damage. I used to do that kind of inspection myself, but Dorothy told me not to even think about it. Nobody was hurt and I haven't heard of any animals getting killed. However, Billy Groatman told me this morning down at the cafe that one of his hunting dogs lost a piece of his ear to the hail. It wasn't a fun time during the hailing. Sounded like machine gun fire as those big ice balls came crashing on our roof. Now I have to listen to all the hail jokes going around. You know substituting the word hail for the word hell, like in the title of this post. I'm sure you have all heard the hail/hell jokes before. If you haven't, the hail with you.

On Adoring

If I told y'all every one of my uncles, my daddy's brothers, loved their wives that would be an understatement. They adored them. I think it all came from the fact their daddy, my grandpa, was one to run around on their mother. Eventually, he left her and married a younger woman. I think that had an effect on his boys. I remember how they all were attentive and constant to their wives' needs. When I told Dorothy about this her first thought was they were uxorious. But when I looked up that word it just didn't fit. The way I see it, if a man is uxorious his wife would have to play a part in it. She would demand things and none of my aunts did. They didn't need to. Every birthday, every Mother's Day, Christmas, Easter, and anniversary was honored with flowers or candy. Giving candy was real big in those days. I remember my daddy and all his brothers walking around with their wives, holding their hands or with their arm around them. They opened their car doors and made sure the lawn was mowed and were always asking what they could do for their spouses. And the wives adored them back. I won't say I never saw any arguments or disputes, but I always had the feeling they were truly happy. It was a real nice way to grow up.

Be Kind to Yourself

A few years back I dropped in on X L Nunnburt and found him out in his workshop. I was surprised at how neat it was. We talked while he was working on a wood project and as he finished with a tool he put it in its proper place. I remarked on his habits and he said he learned this a few years before when he was working in a friend's shop to use a special saw. Before he left he put all the tools back, swept up, and left the place looking better than he found it. It got him to thinking why he would do that in a friend's place and had a practice of leaving his shop in a mess. He figured it was so his friend would not thing ill of him and then thought it might be important for him to think well of himself too. He began to clean up as he went along and discovered he no longer had to look around for the right tool and stumble over scraps of waste to get to his work. Suddenly he was able to finish a job much faster and his work was of higher quality. He said his wife caught on too. She found that cleaning the house for herself and her family was just as important as cleaning for company. Since X L (whose nickname was Forty) told me his little story I have tried to be kind to myself. It sorta catches on with a fellow and I believe makes him kinder to others in the process.

Patience

I came across this picture of the word patience written in sand on the beach. It made me think about Jason Westhill, a man that passed away last year. Just before he died I visited him in the hospital and he was telling me how he was proud of the fact that he had been patient with his wife, Luverne. He said right up to the end he thought she was going to change. Luverne was one to run around on her husband. She was talked about at the barbershop and women's sewing circles on a regular basis. She kept Jason in a hole financially with her beauty supplies. The UPS or FedEx truck stopped at their house almost every day with things she ordered off the shopping networks. The woman that owns The Ladies Shop told Dorothy she was stuck with a bill for over seven hundred dollars after Jason passed on. Now, Luvern has run off to New Orleans with an auto parts salesman and has left Harper forever. Hopefully. All she left was her recipe for Quiche Luverne that uses collard greens instead of spinach and nobody likes that anyway. So, in my opinion, Jason's patience was a little like the word written in the sand of the beach, just waiting for the tide to wash it away. Sometime you just gotta make a move.

Drapetomania

A few years ago Addie Faye Stump ran off from her husband Cleavon. When he caught up with her and brought her home she claimed to all who would listen that she was caught up with a disease called drapetomania. She found out about it at the library when she was looking up information on an old relative. Her unmarried name was Caldwell. It seems like back in the days of slavery some slaves sought freedom by running away and taking a route north. This mystified the slave holders because they figured they were providing food and a home for them. They thought the slaves were down right ungrateful. A doctor named Samuel Caldwell come up with a new disease to satisfy this unusual behavior. He called it drapetomania and said it overtook the will of those who caught it and made it almost impossible for them to stay put. With Addie Faye back home and telling everyone about her affliction, Cleavon found it necessary to darken (for the first time) the doors of the library to learn about her disease. He was bragging to some of his friends down at the barbershop that he was prepared to take Dr. Caldwell's advice about a cure for this terrible ailment. Dr. Caldwell had said the remedy was to beat the devil out of the returnee. Several of us told him he would have to answer to us if he went through that procedure. It wasn't right in 1860, it wasn't right a few years back when Addie ran off, and it isn't right today. The things people do to cover up their evil deeds.

Tomorrow: Addie and Cleavon get back together.

Some Things Just Ain't Right

Harlow Booney came in the barbershop yesterday all upset. He had been listening to his radio (he says he'll get a television when they get perfected.) He was stomping around using a few highly inflamed words and denouncing the news he was hearing from Rome.

 He said, "Now I want y'all to understand, I ain't got nothing against Catholics. My brother married one. Y'all all know Harvon what lives down in Baton Rogue. He married Mary Maggie, a fine woman what can cook as good as your mamma. I swear her crawfish etouffee are as good as any you'll find in New Orleans. Well anyway, I just heard something on the radio what has me real upset. Did y'all know them Catholics won't let anybody vote for pope except Cardinals. Now is that fair? I know they got a good team. They won the World Series for heaven sake. But what about the Braves? Don't they have no say so."

Happy Barnway, my barber, was just getting ready to explain when I tapped him on the arm and gave him an eye signal to let him know it wouldn't be a good way to approach Harlow. I have learned over the years it's better to let him figure things out on his own. Goodness knows, he's had enough experience in that procedure. So, I brought up a big smile on my face and asked Harlow to tell us more about those crawfish.

Jack Hart

I don't know if I believe what I am gonna talk about our not, but I also don't believe in taking any unnecessary chances. I reckon, just in case, people should be careful what name they give their children. We had this boy, Jack Hart, that grew up just down the road from where I grew up. He was a good looking fellow in high school and always has plenty of girl friends. He was pretty well off and he always had a nice car and great clothes. This was back when my momma was just trying to keep me in a change of clothes for weekdays and a pretty good Sunday suit. If I wanted to go somewhere I walked. Now, don't get me wrong. Coveting wasn't a big thing back then and Jack never flaunted any of his advantages. Now, what I'm talking about, Jack became a gambler. I can't swear his name had anything to do with it, but like I say, why challenge fate. In his case it would have been simple to call him by his formal name, John, but I reckon his folks thought it was cute to call him Jack Hart. In fact, his momma used to call him her Jack of Hearts. Last week he was in town to beg money from his last living relatives. He was driving a car that looked like if it made it across town, luck would play a part in it. His clothes weren't too bad but he wore the same outfit for the whole time he was here. Some good, young friends of ours, the Shays, had a baby girl last week. They were telling Dorothy and me they want to name her Cleopatra and call her Cle for short. I told them nothing good could come from carrying around a name like Cle Shay. I hope they heed my warning.

My Favorite Wife

Last night me and Dorothy watched an old movie titled My Favorite Wife. It was labeled as a screwball comedy. In real life marriage is anything but a comedy. It is real serious business. This movie got me to thinking about my wives (I've had four), two good and two not so good. My second wife was a good person but she was cold and unyielding. She had rules, too many rules. I married her, really, for someone to help take care of my three children whose mother had died and left them solely in my care. She was the one that was hit by a streetcar in New Orleans and died. I was sad, of course, but I really was never in love with her. My third wife Trixie ran off with a tent preacher. I think that's enough said about her. Bethel, my first wife, was my one true love in the sense that love is passionate and felt deep in the heart. I have never forgotten her. Dorothy, my present wife, is a lovely person. She is dedicated to my wellbeing and I love her. I can't say she is my favorite wife, but I won't put her in second place to Bethel. I think my first favorite wife looks down from above and is so happy that Dorothy came along for me. Yes, I have two favorite wives. So, there.

Slim's House of Hats

We got this place here that don't sell nothing but hats. Well, that's not exactly right, they sell caps too. People come from all over because you can get almost any kind of hat or cap you want. The way they do that is they customize the hat or cap you want for you. They can take a cowboy hat, for instance, and trim and patch to make it look just like you want. So if you're watching a western on TV and see a particular kind of hat you want you just record and bring the video into Slim and him and his wife will duplicate it almost to the tee. They have all colored caps with nothing on them, but if you want to have a cap with the University of Podunk on it they will design a logo and sew P U on the front in just the right colors. I probably have more than a dozen hats and caps from Slim's House of Hats.

Foot High Sandwiches

We got this place about a mile from my front door that sells foot high sandwiches. It's called Dagwood's and it real popular mostly with men. When you come in they hand you one of those yellow legal pads and you write what you want on your sandwich and how high you want it. The shorter the cheaper and the taller the more it costs. They won't go higher than a foot because sandwiches have a tendency to fall over when they get too high. Besides hardly anybody can eat more than a foot of sandwich. They have twelve kinds of meat, ten kinds of cheese, three kinds of lettuce, eight kinds of pickles, three kinds of olives, two kinds of tomatoes, four kinds of onions, and seven kinds of bread. A man from California came in last month and suggested they add artichoke and avocado, and they did. This place is run by a woman I have known all my life. Her nickname is and always has been Blondie. Because of her hair color, doncha know? I asked Blondie why they used a yard stick to measure their sandwiches when they didn't go no higher than one foot. She said she had a ruler once but it kept getting lost. Besides they didn't need but one ruler in her cafe and she was doing a good enough job herself filling that bill.

Picking the Right Words

Euphemism. I had to look it up down at the library. It means picking a gentle word to describe a rough subject. One profession that doesn't rely on euphemisms is dentistry. You're setting in the chair and the dentist calls out the names of the weapons he wants handed to him; things like picks, burrs, drills etc. I think they could make things more pleasant with words like pillow, petal, and breeze. They would know what they all were because they would be taught while in school. Sometimes, like in the movies, an avoidance of a harsh word might serve the same purpose as coming out and saying it. Like in an old Gary Cooper movie when he said a man was so poor, "He didn't have a pot to put flowers in." We all knew what he was referring to cause everybody in the picture show house laughed. Most people around here use euphemisms a lot, except when they're out in a boat fishing or walking through the woods hunting. Also, euphemisms aren't to popular down at the pool hall.

Pork Belly Smith

This old man, J. Cicero Smith, was known as Pork Belly Smith. He did raise pigs but that wasn't why he got the nick name Pork Belly. It was because he was so fascinated with the daily stock report on the radio station he listened to that always mentioned pork belly futures. He always knew the current numbers and presented them to who ever he was talking to, on a regular basis. Now I reckon y'all know that in the old days pigs were slaughtered on cold days for obvious reasons. It was usually done out of doors and needed to be done quickly and salted and stored in a smoke house right away. One day, as the story goes, Pork Belly was walking into Harper on a real hot day. A salesman must have felt sorry for him because he picked him up. This was back in the fifties and the salesman had a new car with an air conditioner specially installed under the glove compartment. Pork Belly sat there in a stream of cold air and after about a quarter mile asked the salesman to stop and let him out. When asked why he replied, "I didn't know it were gonna turn off cold. I got to get home and kill hogs."

John J. (Elmo) Reeves

One of the people who used to live in Harper that I don't think I've talked about was a fellow we called Elmo Reeves. He was real tall. In fact he was the tallest person I ever knew. They said he measured six foot eleven and was pretty good looking too. His height was no doubt a handicap in him getting a bed, a shower that would work for his size, and most important finding a suitable mate. He always had his eye set on Mazie Frances Stewart but she was only five foot two. I mean could you imagine them on the dance floor. I figure they could get arrested just for doing the fox trot. People suggested he try basketball but Elmo was so clumsy he would fall several times each game. Once he broke his collar bone in a fall and it took a while to get him off the court. Finally the geometry teacher from the high school came up with a plan on how to manage moving such an odd load of bones. I reckon you may wonder where his nickname Elmo came from. His old uncle, J. Q. Reeves, who was in the navy for twenty-five years, said that John J. was so tall that in a thunderstorm a fellow could detect St. Elmo's fire on the top of his head. I doubt this was true, but the name Elmo was taken up and he has been called that ever since.

A Fine Kettle of Fish (Hollis)

A Fine Kettle of Fish by Lou Bradshaw
Doubling, Missouri - 1960's - high school senior - wrecker - fatal accident - heroin under seat - sheriff - FBI - mountain cabin - girls - college - sting - gun shots - money - arson - good friends.
I highly recommend this book, available for e-readers.

Grandpa Nelson's Last Drive

We got this old ninety-seven year old man, Grandpa Nelson, here in Harper. He is known by everyone because of his driving. With Grandpa the most important piece of equipment on the automobile is the horn. With him a red light or a stop sign is a place to blow your horn and speed up. His son, Lavern, installed a special horn that has three different tones, so people could recognize it was Grandpa and get out of the way. Lavern said it was his last hope since they could not get the old man to realize the necessity of using his brakes now and then. Yesterday, Grandpa's driving days came to an abrupt halt when he crashed through a fence and ran across his daughter-in-law, Barbara Doris's, azaleas. He destroyed at least a dozen bushes and left deep ruts across their recently sodded yard. She got the old man out of the car, grabbed his wallet from his back pocket, pulled out the driver's license, cut it into little pieces and told her father-in-law, "You're too old, You won't be needing this anymore." Later that day grandpa was spotted driving down Harper Lake Road right straddle the center line. Sheriff Jones pulled him over and asked for his license and was told by Grandpa a drivers license was not required for a man of his age. He said his daughter-in-law had told him so. His car has been sent off to the junk yard and his keys were thrown in the lake.

Wilbert Whitmire's Diary

One of my problems is trying to come up with something everyday to put on this little blog. I figure it needs to be a little bit funny. Even if it don't make people fall on the floor laughing at least it needs to bring out a chuckle or two. My old great uncle, Wilbert Whitmire, always kept a diary and he wrote in everyday from 1845 to 1892. I mean every day. Wilbert obviously never meant to be the least bit funny. You can go through page after page and it seems like you're reading the same thing over and over again. I didn't inherit this old book but actually found it in an antique shop in Liberty, Mississippi. Liberty is the town where they claim a man stood on the corner and yelled out, "If this is Liberty, give me death." That of course is a made up story, one that the Libertarians, or what ever you call them, are tired of hearing. So if you ever happen to be in Liberty do not use this little joke, It won't be taken that way and nothing good will come from telling it. But back to the old diary. Here is just one page:
           Got up at 5:30 this morning. The sun come up at 6:30. After a breakfast of biscuits, sausage, eggs, top cream, and molasses, I went out to check on my mule. He seemed better but was still a lot gassy. Getting my house garden ready. I worked with hand plow until about 11 AM. Came in for a light lunch of butterbeans and rice. No tomatoes this time of year. Miss them. Hooked up Nellie for a ride into town to check on them seeds I ordered from Barnaby's. They hadn't come in. Got back just before dark. Ate a glass of cornbread and buttermilk, what I call Crumble-in. Read out of the book of Acts, said my prayers, and jumped in bed around 8 PM.