Boasting 101

Dorothy and I got back today from that wedding we went to. I had a wonderful time and was happy to see old friends and meet new people. My favorite thing, as is usually the case with me, was observing people, particularly people I did not previously know. My favorite was a man from a little town in Florida who owned a printing company. He was a boaster, one of the best I have ever seen, and held the attention of whatever group he was talking to. I studied his technique and today I marvel at how smoothly he worked his little brags into the conversation. As an example, he had won an award for producing quality work in some particular area of printing. He didn't say that. He said it was beyond his comprehension that a little businessman from such a small town in a Southern State could be given such a prestigious award. Later he was telling how his daughter had been accepted into an art school somewhere up north. It seems her admission was in part because of an art contest she won. This fellow kept talking about how small her painting was. He said he could understand a prize for a large--which he described as full-size--picture would be considered, but his daughter's entry was smallish to the point she needed a magnifying glass to do the fine detail in the work. Besides he said, "While her mother and I excel in many areas, neither of us can draw worth a darn. She couldn't have received her talent from us." I gave this guy's method high marks for winning over his audience. I wonder if they will feel the same after they have considered what he actually was saying.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Packing Lists

No matter how old you are it is probably a good idea to write things down. Today, it is particularly important for me because we are headed out for this wedding in another state. I will have to wear my tuxedo. I got it out of the cedar storage room and aired it out over the week. But what I'm talking about is forgetting things on a trip. The last time I wore this monkey suit I got there and had forgotten my tux shirt. It is a sin to wear anything with at tuxedo except a tuxedo shirt. For another wedding I forgot my black shoes and had to wear brown shoes with a black suit. I reckon that wasn't too bad. Last night I made me a list and this morning I am going over it to make sure nothing is left out. Heaven forbid I get there and have something missing or the wrong thing packed. But the proof will be when I get there and open my bags. It's kinda like that law they passed where you have to pass it before you find out what's in it. In my case, I hope I have a least read over the list a few times. Sorry if I made mistakes today I'm in a real big hurry.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Unlucky People Beware

You know that old saying: If it were not for bad luck, I would have no luck at all. Well, we got the woman here in Harper, Eunice Hardboil, who believes that about herself. R. X. Smith, our druggist, (yes, that's what his druggist daddy named him) told me about this conversation he had with Eunice last week. After he had sent out her refill she called him up and began her little tyrade. It started out smooth and easy. She said she wanted to thank him for his excellent service. Without him she would have a hard road understanding her therapy and getting her medicine. BUT, she had repeatedly asked him not to staple her bag shut. She claimed that when she opened the bag the staple would fall into the carpet and she would walk through barefoot and get the little booger stuck in her toe. That would lead to an infection that would worsen when all the treatment she could come up with failed and blood poisoning would sure ensue. Gangrene would lead to amputation, but that would come too late and sepsis (she has a medical dictionary) was certain. A slow, painful death would end weeks of suffering. R. X. asked her if she considered that maybe one of the steps in her scenario would not occur and everything would work out for her. Her reply: "Not with my luck."

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Avoiding Failure

Thomas Edison said he had not failed. He just found 10,000 ways that would not work. Now that's what I call putting a smiley face on the matter. The reason Edison could get away with a statement like that is he often did succeed. Just look at all his inventions. We got this old fellow who used to live down the road a piece. I say used to because he was taken off last week to live in a retirement home. His name is Horace Alva Edison Smithers. I reckon his mamma and daddy expected big things for him and named him accordingly. Well, Horace did try. He spent his whole life trying to find ways to get out of work. I remember when he was working on a self propelled, remote guided lawn mover. He used parts from one of those model airplanes that people fly from the ground. It never worked but the grass in his yard grew high he had to hire some off duty city workers to come in and clean it up. The town board saw to that. He worked on a special pan that would cook an entire meal all at one time, but different foods require different treatment and he never figured that one out. Other things he spent time on were an umbrella that opened when it was hit with a drop of rain, a universal solvent (just finding a container proved failure), a mosquito eating plant, a self-cleaning dog house, an automatic flushing toilet, a hair cutting hat, and a burglar alarm that had speakers on the roof that sounded like police sirens (to scare off the felon, doncha know?) I never heard of any of these things working. But I will say, I don't think old Horace considered himself a failure. I say this because he never gave up. When they hauled him off he kept talking about this thing he was working on that he called an all-purpose maid. I don't want to think to hard on that one.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Miracle Bread

We got this little bakery down the road that makes real good bread and pastries. Everything they got is real good to eat and not real good for your health and weight. The owner and head baker is Juanita Bondhurt. She studied art during her college years and paints good enough to sell a few here and there but not good enough to make a living at it. She does real good at the bakery though and uses her art to help market her products. One of the favorites around here is what she calls Miracle Bread. She makes this nice little loaf and when you slice it and toast it, the dough and cinnamon or what ever she uses has been arranged to reveal an actual portrait of some famous person or character in a book or movie; a person most of us know about. Every morning she will slice off a piece of bread, toast it, and stick it in the window to show off her work. This morning it was Elvis. She is pretty good at art, but excellent at marketing.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

My Daddy Stands Up

One of the only things I remember about my daddy was back in the 1930's before he was sent off to war. Every summer we had this thing at church called Vacation Bible School and one of the events we practiced each morning was pledging allegiance to the American flag, Christian flag, and the Bible. Three youngsters were picked each day to walk in with the flags, stand in front of the group, and lead us in the pledges. The kids who were chosen were always the children or grandchildren of deacons or prominent church members. One of my closest friends was Bobby Dalfount. His daddy was a known alcoholic and had never entered the church as far as we knew. Bobby was never chosen even though he always attended every service. His mother saw to that. I told my daddy I felt bad about my friend being left out and daddy sprung into action. At the next Wednesday prayer meeting he addressed the congregation and spoke out in the defense of all children whose parents might not be up to the standards of the pious church members. He must have been effective because the next morning Bobby was asked to participate. Word got back to Bobby's father and he started coming to church. His battle with alcohol was a long, exhausting journey and I am not sure he ever completely recovered from his illness, but I do know people at the church began to look at him through different eyes. My conclusion about my daddy's little speech was that it helped Bobby's daddy a lot, but not nearly as much as it helped those in the church who felt so superior.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

The Door is Ajar

I have heard that English is very hard to learn for people whose native tongue is another language. We got this nice young kid named Enrique who is an exchange student from Argentina. He wants to be an international lawyer and is here to brush up on his English. I reckon it's because of this that he spends so much time at the library where I am a volunteer. Yesterday Enrique came in with a puzzled look on his face. He watches a lot of old movies because those 1930 and 1940 movies used a relatively simple dialog to tell their story. In one of the movies he saw this week one of the characters stated, "When I got there the front door was ajar." When he asked me about this in my mind I could see him picturing the front door as a clear glass jar. After talking to him a minute I realized he thought it was a metaphor for prudence. It seems that Maylene Barnplow, the lady whose family he is staying with, had given him a Mason Jar with a slit punched into the lid for the purpose of slipping in the coins from his pocket at the end of the day. Maylene is well known around here for her frugality. I don't know a lot of Spanish but I did learn a little tricky thing way back when. I told him, "Eso si que es." He smiled, I think because I didn't say it exactly right. Then he laughed and told me he just thought I was simply spelling S O C K S. All languages are hard to get.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

All You Can Eat

We got a lot of fat people around here, no doubt about that. One of the reasons, I think, is because of the popularity of all-you-can-eat restaurants. Just in this county we got All You Can Eat: Seafood,  Downhome Food, Breakfast, Burgers, Chinese, and Barbecue. No wonder we have so many fatties. Now I'm not for trying to control what and how much people eat, but I do think mirrors going in and coming out of these places should be required by law, so at least people could see what they are doing to themselves.
A few years ago, I was eating at the seafood place and watched a man ahead of me eyeing the large, plastic, red lobster hanging in a net in the back of the food. He looked all around and then quickly put it on his plate. I did not see him trying to eat it because he hurried to a back table and sat with his back to the crowd. My point is, these places not only cause obesity, but also push people toward greed. I do not know what happened to the lobster but it has not been on display since that night.

 Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Low Speed Chase

We got this little community named Shady Rest out by the golf course. They got a little village council and rules were passed that no one could operate any motorized vehicle other than a golf cart within the town limits. Wilbur Waspbite, a ninety year old resident of Shady Rest, has never been one to follow rules. We never figured out why he and his wife Mazie Faye moved out there 'cause neither one of them has ever held a golf club as far as we know. Besides Wilbur held nothing but contempt for the game. He was often heard making fun of "them fellow what hit a ball and chase it down only to hit it again." Yesterday he was sent down to the Country Pride Store to pick up a pound of stew meat and two potatoes for boiling. There are signs everywhere that say: NO CUTTING ACROSS THE LINKS, but that didn't register to Wilbur as something that applied to him. So he took the shortest route to the store, a ride that took him over the first and eighteen greens. Cell phones came out and 911 was called. Raybourne Rex Wishburn, the town law officer, hopped on his souped up golf cart and took out after Wilbur. As far as we know Wilbur never knew he was being chased. He made it to the store, picked up his groceries, and headed back on the same route that brought him there. That's when Raybourne Rex got in behind him and the chase was on. Raybourne kept blowing his little golf cart horn and Wilbur either didn't hear it or just ignored it. Wilbur made it home and walked into his kitchen with the goods. His wife, Mazie, was standing at the stove heating up the water for the potatoes when Raybourne knocked on the door. He asked for the keys to the cart and Wilbur handed them over. As soon as R Rex left Wilbur got the spare key to the cart and made his way down to the hardware store. When he got there he had Exlaw Etterson, the store owner, to make him ten duplicate keys for his cart. When asked why so many keys were needed, Wilbur said, "You have no idea how many times Mazie sends me to the store each week."

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Dixieland

I reckon y'all have all heard of Dixieland. Or maybe just Dixie. It's what we call the South (Southeastern U.S.) There are several stories about how we ended up with this name. My favorite, and the one I believe to be true, is about money. New Orleans had a big influence on the South. It was at the end of a long journey down the Mississippi River and goods were brought in and sent out down there. New Orleans was under the influence of a French culture; just consider the name. Way back they used money with French words on it and a ten dollar bill had the word DIX. I looked it up down at the library and it's the French word for ten. People started calling a ten dollar bill a DIXIE. And then people, mostly those up north started calling the whole area DIXIE. And from that came DIXIELAND. Today, lots of things have names with Dixie in them: songs, beer, cosmetics, cafes, businesses, lumber, and even daughters. They even attached Dixieland to a kind of jazz. I reckon because it's such a sweet sounding, melodic word, doncha know? When you hear the word spoken you can all most feel warm night breezes and smell the honey suckle floating in the air.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Leroy, One Last Thing

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

I can't say I really understand all that Leroy went through in his life, but I do know he never came up on that moment that caused him to shift his thinking away from pleasing others and toward taking care of his own needs. About a week before he passed away (over ten years ago) we had our last sit down conversation over coffee down at Dorothy's cafe. He spoke of regret, mostly about what he had not done for others. He said his intentions were good he just wasn't able to accomplish his goal of making their lives easier. He was referring to his wife and children and though I did not know it at the time he was also talking about his lover, Fritzie. I asked him if he had any regrets about his own life. And he said, "None." When I pressed him he admitted that he had not found true happiness in life. That little quote from Polonius in Hamlet, "This above all--to thine own self be true." came to mind but I held back and let Leroy do the talking. He said that he had come to the conclusion that it would have been better for everyone if he had confronted Sumaye right when things started to fall apart. He said he feared it would lead to a breakup of his family. Now he said that may have been a better choice than living a live of discord, deception, and despair. He said it may have been better, even for Sumaye, who had been put or kept in a position where she could take and never give. Leroy looked me in the eye and said he could not imagine anything more horrible than knowing you did nothing but take from others. Like I said, I can't really relate to Leroy's situation. In my four marriages, I only had one major conflict and that was settled when my third wife ran off with that tent preacher. The decision was taken out of my hands. My other three wives and I got along just fine. Leroy never came to that point in his life where he saw a better path. Or if he did see it he never took it. God bless Leroy.

How Sumaye Lived Out Her Life

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

After Leroy passed on, Sumaye was in for a big let down. The biggest blow to fall upon her was the revelation that he had given away a sizable amount of his fortune. If you are thinking he gave some of it directly to Fritzie you are wrong; he left it to the church, boy scouts, and the Red Cross. And he had set up a nice trust fund for each of the children. Sumaye was left with the house with all its furnishings and the cars. She had no income and no work experience so it wasn't long before she started selling things off. She made a few feeble attempts to attract a new rich husband, but her luring skills were all but gone and her flashing eyes had become blinking eyes and brought on sympathy, if emotion, from those who were blinked at. Then her health began to fail. Her habits of eating what she wanted and exercising only when necessary to move from one room to another began to pull her down. Within a year the kids had her placed in Shady Acres, our little assisted living center. She is still there and has only a small piece of her mind intact. I was told yesterday by one of the nurses that Sumaye's vocabulary had dwindled to a single word. A word she utters all day every day. "Hurry. Hurry," she cries. 

Leroy's Other World

Like I said Leroy confided in me, about most things. Yet he never felt right in telling me about a part of his life that no one in town suspected. Leroy had a longtime lover. Her name was Fritzie Jean Wannamaker and she was his secretary down at the furniture store. He got away with this because neither Leroy nor Fritzie Jean was the kind of person that raised suspicion in this arena. Both were married, both unhappily, but they were considered good stewards of the laws of marriage and no one would have ever believed them to be unfaithful to their spouses. It all came out at Leroy's funeral, he died about 10 years ago at the age of 65, when Sumaye sat there dry-eyed while Fritzie Jean bawled loudly and dramatically. That's when Sumaye confronted her and that's when we experienced the first, and hopefully last, cat fight at a Harper funeral. What set Sumaye off was not the fact that Fritzie Jean was fooling around with her husband, but that she would tell all the town about it with her pronounced grief. It turned out that Sumaye was on to the lovers and had even endorsed their activities by way of a heart to heart talk with Fritzie Jean years ago. It was a good deal for them both since Sumaye wanted no part of that aspect of wedlock and Fritzie Jean was sorely in need of physical love. You see Fritzie's husband was an alcoholic of the highest extreme and stayed drunk for nearly all of their married life. The love nest of our sweet couple was a section of the furniture store set up as a bedroom back in the corner next to the office. They could come and go unseen from the owner's office. Several times people had offered to buy the complete bedroom suite, but Leroy said it was a demonstrator and was not for sell. Leroy told me almost everything, not this. I reckon it added to the flavor of the affair to hold it in secret. Secrets are a rare thing here in Harper.
Tomorrow: How Sumaye Lived Out Her Life

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Living With a Popped Balloon

Leroy, my cousin, used me as a sounding board. He was always giving me information, too much information, about his marriage. When his wife Sumaye was expecting their second child, she found it necessary to sleep alone. For the baby she said. Leroy was moved into the guest bedroom and that became his sleeping quarters for the duration of his life. After the baby came and Sumaye had made what should have been a complete recovery she complained of tenderness because the birth, according to her was a hard one, and gave in only occasionally to Leroy's needs. Then, according to Leroy, she spoke only one word during the passion of the act, "Hurry." Soon Leroy gave up on that part of marriage. But he stuck it out. Leroy was set up for life by his strict upbringing and deserting a family was on a par with mass homicide as far as he was concerned. He loved his children and stayed with them till the end. Sumaye enjoyed all the part of matrimony that she wanted. She drove a Cadillac, wore fine clothes, and talked Leroy into building a larger, finer house; for the children, of course. This is the way Leroy lived out his life and until he was dead and buried that was all we knew of his doings. Then a side of Leroy no one suspected came to light.
Tomorrow: Leroy's Other World

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

The Balloon Gets Popped

You gotta understand, Sumaye grew up relatively poor. Actually, back then nobody we knew was really poor in the sense of going without food or clothing or the real needs of life. It was just some were more deficient in getting their wants than others. Sumazye's daddy was the only person I ever knew that listed his occupation as professional gambler. He spent a lot of time in New Orleans at the race track or in French Quarter card games. Later on he was a regular visitor to Las Vegas, but that was after Sumaye was married and out from under his support. The net effect of his profession on his family was a life of plenty with long spaces of things not so good. I reckon it was natural for Sumaye to be on the lookout for a prosperous husband and my cousin, Leroy, filled the bill. Sumaye was real good at flashing her brown eyes and went to work luring in my poor cousin. It wasn't a year until they were married. My cousin, before the wedding, used to tell me how he couldn't wait to be with Sumaye. Seems she was real good at taking him to a point where he absolutely had to go for more and more wasn't available out of wedlock. Anyway, they got hitched and lived in what I took to be wedded bliss for about three years. That was when Sumaye was pregnant with their second child and that was when she determined Leroy's usefulness had shifted for security and sperm to just security. That's when the balloon popped.
Tomorrow: Living With a Popped Balloon

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Be Careful What You Wish For

I know people who pray, real hard, for their team to win games. They pray for a winning ticket in the lottery. One guy I know prayed that he could speak French and play the piano; not for the ability to learn the language or the mastery of the instrument. My cousin, Leroy "Dunk" Brownshoe was one to pray for things like that. His biggest prayer went up for this girl Sumaye Kinneldore. Sumaye was always a pretty little thing with long blonde hair and flashing brown eyes. In high school she took little notice of Cousin Leroy. In fact, she ignored him. That didn't keep him from wishing and wanting. He used to confide in me that he would do just about anything if God saw fit to make her attracted to him. Leroy was real smart, in other ways, and finished college with a degree in business. And he was lucky in business. His old uncle owned this furniture store in Harper and gave Leroy a job  as a floor clerk. That's when Leroy got down to business. That boy could sell furniture like Coca Cola sells soft drinks. It wasn't long before the old uncle paid for a new headquarters right on the Interstate. With this new facility Leroy went to work attracting business from all over South Mississippi and Southeast Louisiana. Leroy bought a new sports car and built a five bedroom house on the north side of the lake. That's when Sumaye began to take notice of him.

Tomorrow: The Balloon Gets Popped

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Snooping

All you hear about on the news these days is about snooping into our private lives. Well, here in Harper snooping has been going on for years. Back when we had to rely on telephone operators to send our calls through we had this one operator, Mazie Mygosh, who was kinda like the CIA is today. She figured it was her duty to discover, and report, tidbits of news she picked up listening in on our calls. One time her snooping caused a friend of my grandmother particular harm. I won't get into all that happened, but it broke up a happy marriage. My grandmother and my great aunt suspected Mazie as the culprit and devised a plan to trap her. They got on the phone several times discussing an event for ladies only (made up event) they were planning for the church. They discussed what they were going to bring and decided it should be pot luck. Nobody would know what was coming in the way of food until they opened the lid on the dishes at the moment of the feast. The party was to be held on a Thursday evening at 7 o'clock and grandma and Aunt Evie Sue stated to each other that they were supposed to be at the church with their dish at 6:30 promptly. That Thursday night they showed up at the church. Grandma brought chicken and dumplings and Aunt Evie Sue brought an apple pie. They had agreed if nobody showed up they would simply bring the dishes back home and feed them to their husbands. At around 6:15 ladies started arriving with food and according to grandma by 6:45 over a dozen covered dishes sat on the table. At seven Mazie showed up. She didn't bring anything but her appetite. Everyone ate to their filling and when the meal was over, grandma tapped her water glass with the edge of a fork and gave a little announcement. She said that Mazie was to be thanked for arranging this nice event. Grandma said that while the meal turned out to be a good thing, it would be prudent for everyone to be careful what they said on the phone in the future. Mazie claimed she didn't know what grandma was talking about, but all the ladies there knew where they had received notice of the big event.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Adding Flavor

I kinda like things plain. Like steak; I don't add much besides a little garlic and pepper to make it right for my taste. Some folks drown a good steak in all kinds of sauces. And some people use different kinds of wood chips in their grill to give whatever they are cooking a different taste. I looked it up and found where you can buy about fifteen or twenty kinds of wood chips from apple, pear, and peach to mesquite. Way back in history, so I have read, the Greeks added tree resin to their wine to give it a sappy flavor. They still do and I'll bet it does taste sappy. In Mexico they put a worm in tequila. What's that all about? Like I say, I'm a plain kinda guy, but I'll admit I'm really kinda curious on how a big juicy steak grilled over a peach wood fire would taste. I'll know by tonight.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Directions

As y'all know, my great nephew Hollis is off at college learning how to be a writer. He says one of the hardest things about getting through to the reader is understanding that they don't know everything you do about what you are trying to tell them. That's one of the bad things about people around here. They do a lot of talking, no doubt about that, but they don't always give you all the facts. Like when you ask for directions. Yesterday I overheard Jethro Pullback telling a man in a new, black Buick how to get to Stoney's Mill Park.

Here's how it went:
"Well, just head out down to the red light and if it's green just keep going. About a spell down the road you'll come to a fork. Take that fork and go on down to you get to where the old Mill Park Baptist Church used to be. You know where it was before they moved it. There, and this is real important, you turn. After a while you'll come up on a farm  what has lots of cows standing around. Keep going. After a mile or so you'll come to where that big oak tree fell over the road during Katrina. We couldn't get past it till they move it a week later. Got ever bit of it off. Why you can't even tell it was there. Well, keep going till you get to the river. Now the bridge is out. Been about a week now. Now that's the scenic route. Not a prettier path in the whole country. But if you're in a hurry to get down to Stoney's Mill Park you can just turn right here. This way. Keep on this road for five miles and you'll be there. Straight as a arrow. It's quicker but it sure ain't as pretty."

So if you're coming to visit us here in Harper, and I hope you will, be sure to come prepared. I recommend maps, a compass, a GPS if you have one, and a full thermos of coffee or your favorite beverage. You'll need at least those aids if you hope to find your way around here.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Human Vanity

We are without a doubt a proud species. I guess that's one of the reasons we have progressed as far as we have. Yet, sometimes it gets a little out of hand. I figure it's been going on for years. Look at how many things have names that come from parts of the human anatomy. Hurricanes have eyes. Corn has ears. Guns have hair triggers. We pursue the heart of the matter, eat chicken fingers, cheer for nose guards in football, support the right to bear arms, divide our journeys into legs, sometimes act cheeky, keep off the shoulder of roads, keep our robe on the foot of the bed, attach a light to the head of the bed, polish the tongue of our shoes, and good-naturedly rib our friends. If I had any doubt about the human ego, it was dispelled this morning as I watched Dorothy put on her makeup. She sat in front of a vanity.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle

Hickory Jack (Ben Blue) {Hollis}

Hickory Jack (Ben Blue) by Lou Bradshaw
Western - post Civil War - pistols, shot guns, rifles, knives, pitchfork, rope - horses, cattle, mules, wild pigs - sheriffs, marshalls, deputies - Missouri, Arkansas, Indian Nations, Texas, Kansas, New Mexico -
preachers and priests - tracking evil - reward money - yankees, rebels, Indians, Mexicans, New Mexicans, Irish - ranches, camp fires, mountains, canyons - and a little romance.
Hickoy Jack  is loaded with adventure and history. In my opinion it could easily have been two books considering all the information and action.

An Intervention at the Harper Bee

We got a bunch together to go down to the Harper Bee, our local newspaper, to talk to Frankie Grunt, the owner/editor, about her reporting. Lately she has lived up to her name and is just too frank about what she's printing. There weren't a particular organization to our little intervention. Here's how it came about.

There were five of us. Mary Lou Heck was carrying a gift all wrapped up with a red bow, which I found out is Frankie's favorite color. The rest of us just brought our thoughts. I reckon Frankie suspected we were there to honor her in some way with the gift because she welcomed us with a broad smile.

Jasper Smootway started with a little talk about with freedom comes responsibility.

I told Frankie how important her paper was to our community.

Mavis Stampfoot discussed the ears and eyes of our children.

Harpoon Smith didn't say anything. He just stood there with that head deacon stare he is so good at.

Mary Lou presented her gift. It turned out to be a book entitled A Complete Guide to Euphemistic Insults.

When we finished, Frankie looked us each one in the eye and said, "My daddy left me this newspaper and I plan to run it any way I see fit."

Harpoon Smith spoke up. He explained in his deep bass voice that if he saw one more example of bad language or graphic reporting of wrecks and death, he would cancel his weekly, half-page advertisement for his lumber yard.

At that Frankie said she would reconsider her approach to newspaper publication and take more responsibility in using her freedom of the press.

We'll see.

Tales of Harper, short stories and poems about the fictional town of Harper, Mississippi is available on Amazon Kindle