Kids And Grand Kids, There's Not Much Difference

     When Danny and Clay were still toddlers they were very close, Clay looked up to his big brother and Danny in turn was quite proud of his little brother. Oh, they fought from time to time but in the end Danny looked out for Clay and proudly introduced Clay as his brother to everyone they met.
     When we lived in Kansas Danny was five years old and Clay was almost three, there were not too many kids their age to play with but there was a four year old living next door. One day the neighbor boy was playing with Danny as Clay napped on the couch, at some point the neighbor boy jumped on Clay and Danny jumped on the neighbor boy to pull him off Clay - they rolled off the couch on to the floor with Clay on the bottom of the pile. When Linda pulled everybody apart Clay had a broken leg that required hospitalization in a hospital sixty miles away, he was in traction for six weeks and a body cast for another six weeks.
     During Clay's stay in the hospital, Linda would stay with Clay and I would get Danny after work and drive to the Hospital so Linda could have a break and visit with Danny while I sat with Clay. Danny was worried about Clay and may have even thought he was to blame, he was too young to visit Clay in the hospital so Linda and I did what we could  for both of them. Needless to say Danny was glad to see Clay when he came home even though he was in a body cast.
     Clay was always a quite child to the point that Linda became concerned because he wasn't developing a vocabulary as he should. Danny had been a chatterbox when he was Clay's age, still was for that matter, any time someone asked Clay a question Danny answered it. Linda's concern grew to the point that she consulted Clay's doctor, after a careful examination and listening to Linda the doctor concluded that everything would be fine if Danny would let Clay speak for himself. The doctor said that as long as Danny talked for Clay there was no reason for Clay to talk. Once we got Danny to shut up Clay started talking and the decibel levels increased dramatically in our house.
     Fast forward about thirty five years, Danny and Marie have MJ and her little brother Matthew, at this point I would like to say Matthew is a little brother in name only, he may be two years younger than MJ but he out weighs her and is just about as tall.
     The first time Matthew and MJ met, MJ seemed somewhat unconcerned, she had just spent her first night away from Mom and Dad and as good as it was to spend time with Grandpa it was even better to see Mom and Dad again. It took a while but she finally warmed up to having a little brother,  like their father and uncle they would be insufferable one minute and inseparable the next.
     Even though they occasionally played with some other kids in the neighbor they became the best of friends. Sometimes they will crawl into bed with each other and recently they have a camping out night where they sleep in sleeping bags under a makeshift tent in their bedroom.
     Kay and I usually pick them up on a weekly basis and take them places. MJ like her Dad is the chatterbox or social butterfly, poor Matthew can hardly get a word in when she is around but he does pretty well when he is alone with us. Matthew was sad when MJ went to school, he lost his playmate but he would wait patiently for the bus to bring her home and she would tell Matthew, Mom and Dad all about the things she learned and did that day. Matthew was excited to start kindergarten this year as he would get to ride the school bus.
      Kay and I picked them up one day and headed out to where ever we were going when Kay engaged them in conversation. When Kay asked Matthew what he learned in school that week he didn't say anything so she asked MJ what Matthew might learn in school, without thinking about it MJ told us that when she was in kindergarten she learned that not all of the white rocks on the playground are rocks, some are bird poop.
     Danny recently posted a story about Matthew on FB, seems Danny was reading a book to Matthew about bananas. When the story was over Matthew told his Dad that wanted to get a banana tree, Danny explained to Matthew it was not hot enough to grow a banana tree at their house. I need to interject here that we have been having record breaking heat and humidity this summer, about 79 days of 90 + degrees. Sometime in the next day or so Matthew was outside playing in the heat and humidity, he came in dripping in sweat, he wiped sweat from his eyes and proclaimed it was hot enough to grow bananas out side, smart kid.
     The last time Kay and I had the kids with us Kay was once again engaging them in conversation while I drove, they got on the subject of fingers and Kay was asking MJ if she knew which finger was the index finger and MJ showed her then she told us which was the ring finger and then the pinky finger but then MJ excitedly told us that the middle finger was the ugly finger, it was ugly if you pointed it at anybody.
     It is nice to know that the apple doesn't fall far from the tree, Danny made another post to FB recently. Every night he and Marie let the kids pick out a book then he and Marie read to them or in the case of MJ she reads to them as much as she can, afterwards Marie is in the habit of singing a song she made up for the kids. Well this particular night Marie had to work late so she wasn't there to sing to them, Matthew was so sad that he wouldn't hear a song that MJ sat beside him and sang to him just like Marie. To coin a phrase "no greater love has a big sister that she would sing to her little brother in his time of sorrow". I hope they never change.
     I was retired when MJ was born, she was not quite two years old when Linda passed and doesn't remember her Grandmother. We knew a grandson was on the way when Linda passed away, she was sad she would not get to meet him, since then I have been writing stories about Linda so they will know her.
     It has been fun watching MJ and Matthew grow. MJ is a lot like her Dad, a social butterfly. Matthew on the other hand is still working on his persona although Marie thinks he favors her personality. They still have a lot of growing before it will be known who they are and who they will be, I doubt I will be around to see the end results so I will take what I can get now and be happy with that but then again, there is a slight chance that I might stick around, I hope so.



















   

Letter To MJ and Matthew

Dear MJ and Matthew,

     Recently there has been a lot of hoopla brought about by a bunch of teenage kids saying that there parents and grandparents have destroyed their chances for a future because the climate is quickly changing for the worse. Young people are holding protest across the country and around the world claiming that life on earth is nearing the end because of climate change, some say the end is coming in just a few years while others claim the end is happening in six more days. TV newscast, newspapers and social media on the internet are inundated with tearful youngsters begging the powers that be take action now to save the world from destruction.
     The other night, while looking at Facebook, I ran across a news feed depicting a young girl prominent in this movement, tears ran down her face as she angrily shouted at officials  pleading with them to do something. Seems that as I have gotten older I have become more opinionated on some subjects and sometimes have no problem letting people know how I feel, this was one of those times. I went on Facebook and posted a letter to the kids who claim that all of the ills of the world are the fault of the older generation, you probably won't see the letter, especially if the world ends in the next six days, but I feel that you should know what was said.
     To make a long story short, the claim that climate change is destroying the world and climate change is caused by excessive use of fossil fuels has been rolling around for quite some time. The first warnings came about in 1896 when scientist predicted that excess CO2 from humans would cause global warming. In 1968 it was predicted that the ozone levels were being depleted by excess levels of CO2 and causing the ice caps to melt and therefore the sea levels are going to rise to catastrophic levels flooding major portions of the earth. 1970 brought about the claim that the chemicals used in the aerosol of spray cans was creating a giant hole in the ozone layer of the atmosphere which in turn was causing world wide droughts. Burning certain types of coal caused ozone depletion, exhaust fumes emitted from driving automobiles caused depletion of the ozone. Add to this the dire predictions, from scientist, politicians, movie stars and anyone with a high degree of self importance, that life on earth will end in fifteen years, twenty five years or even next week. Accordingly life on earth as we know it was scheduled to end several times during my lifetime yet her I sit writing a letter to you guys.
     So, what is the truth behind climate change ? Well I don't know and have serious reservations that anyone else knows for certain but what I do know is that the earth has been undergoing changes since it's creation, over time whole continents have shifted their position, whole species of animals, plants, fish and birds have disappeared while others evolved.
     Since the creation of families it has been the responsibility of the parents to raise and teach their offspring how to be parents and hope that the children might turn out to be better at it than they were. I can say for sure that my grandparents hoped that my parents would be better parents than they were and inherit a better world, the same held for my parents towards me and me towards your Dad.
     Now then, is the world a better place ? Look at things this way, there was a time when most of mankind thought the earth was flat and sailors who sailed their ships too far would fall off the edge and never be heard from again. Generations later the earth was found to be not only round but it also revolved around the son, the moon revolved around the earth and controlled the tides of the seas. This new found knowledge improved man kinds world and made it a better place. One hundred years ago the horse was still a major form of transportation for many people and many households still didn't have electricity but modern inventions and advances improved the lives of people every where with each generation. We have come a long way and each generation has left it's mark, most people think for the better but not without some bitterness.
     What all this hoopla boils down to is really quite simple, at least in my mind, the problem is the older generation and the new generation. The older generation with the tools available have done the best they could then they reach an age where they can't see that any further improvement is possible, all of a sudden they long for the simple life they once had. They can't always see that the youths they created are going in the right direction. On the other hand, the younger generation rebels against all of the status quo, they have reached an age where they now know every thing there is to know. This rebellion usually last through the mid twenties to early thirties at which time the younger generation realizes they are now in the drivers seat and if anything is going to change they must work to make it happen.
     For young people to rebel is a natural consequence of maturing and each generation has gone through the process, they eventually come to a place in their life where they settle down and face responsibility and become the very thing they rebelled against. It's called the circle of life, I am my father's son, in time I have become my father and I have done the best I could to make a better life for my son just as he will do for you.
     There is nothing new here, the world has been through this crisis many times before and will endure future clashes. The world today is a better place today than it was yesterday, it is not perfect it waits for you to leave your mark on it. Good luck.



           Grandpa

Getting Old Ain't For Sissy's

     A few months back I turned 72 years old. To be honest I never thought I would get this far yet here I am, near sighted, grey haired and pot bellied. I guess I should consider myself fortunate to still be walking around when so many people younger than me go to meet their maker every day due to various illnesses and accidents.
     Looking back on my life I can say there were times I did some pretty dumb things that could have resulted in my demise. As a teenager I jumped off high cliffs into the lake and would swing on a rope attached to a tree on the side of a steep bluff overlooking the lake. I rode a bicycle that I personally worked on only to find out that I am not mechanically inclined - the brakes didn't always work and the front wheel occasionally fell off when I hit a bump.
     I left home at 18 and joined the Navy, as a VIP driver I had a heavy foot. There were no laws about using a seat belt back then so I didn't use one but there were several times, after driving at speeds exceeding 90 mph, a thought would cross my mind "are you crazy" but then I was 18 - 19 years old, I was indestructible. The Navy sent me off to war in Vietnam, not once but twice, again I was fortunate and came home, more than 50,000 of my brothers didn't.
     I continued to drive too fast, over the years I was involved in several auto accidents and received more than my share of speeding tickets. I smoked cigarettes, drank several forms of alcohol,sometimes to excess, and before the kids came along any excuse to party was a good excuse.
     Once the kids came along I slowed down, quit drinking and kept the speed odometer under 80 mph (when the kids were in the car). I suffered the odd cuts and bruises and continued to scratch my head every year when my birthday came around amazed that I made it another year. I worked hard, often long hours, smoking helped keep the stress under control though it didn't do my body any good.
     One day I woke up and found I was a senior citizen, I could no longer keep up with the younger generation physically or mentally. Technology passed me by a long time ago and I don't even think about trying to catch up. I'm so out of shape that getting in a hurry is out of the question, if I had to run the proverbial 50 yards to the outhouse I would need some clean underwear about halfway there. My reflexives have slowed and my memory is sporadic, seems my mouth gets ahead of my brain and whatever I was trying to say  doesn't always come to me until a later time, the doctor calls it "having a senior moment".Various parts of the body take turns letting me know how they feel, sleep eludes me at times, arthritis has a hold on several joints and skin tags are popping up all over my body.
     I have needed glasses for years and now I have what is called a floater in my right eye. I get up slowly in the middle of the night to let my body adjust to the new position and I can't walk barefoot anymore but I did quit smoking a few years ago.
     There is some good news though, I just had a checkup, other than needing to drop a few pounds (OK quite a few), having low vitamin D and borderline cholesterol I'm not in bad shape. When so many people my age are wolfing down handfuls of pills every day I only take three, every thing still works although not as good as they used to.
     I look in the mirror and see and old person yet I look at things from a young persons point of view, I think I can still do things like I always have but then I remember I'm not 25 or 30 or even 40 anymore. I miss the "good ol' days".
     There's a line from a country song that goes "I ain't as good as I once was but I'm as good once as I ever was" but I should add another line "just not as often as I used to".
     One of the really hard parts about getting old is that all of your friends and relatives have gotten old also, some of them are not doing so well and some have already passed away. I don't enjoy seeing people I know suffering from some disease, I don't enjoy saying goodbye to them but because I love them I will do what I can.
     I don't recommend getting old, it beats the alternative but it sure ain't for sissy's.



















   

Five Years

     "The business of life is the acquisition of memories, in the end that is all that is left" 

                                                                                    Mr. Carson, Downton Abbey



     This post contains individual posts that I write on Face Book on the anniversary of the passing of Linda and Wayne. The words are from my heart and I think they are important to future generations so I have created this post as a compilation of the anniversary writings.  

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FIVE YEARS

     Five years ago Kay and I didn't know each other but life forces were in play that would bring us together. Five years ago Kay's husband Wayne passed away, a week later my wife Linda passed away, after decades of marriage we were lost and alone. The first year was devastating, we mourned our losses deeply, we cried ourselves to sleep when sleep was possible, we wandered aimlessly in a fog of despair even though we were surrounded by friends and family.
     As time went on life became easier, with help we learned how to move forward without forgetting, we learned to live again with the memories of a lifetime, we learned how to smile and laugh again as we told our stories of the past. What we did not do was forget even one minute detail of the ones we lost. Everyday we remember Wayne and Linda, some times the memories bring tears, some times smiles, some times the memory is but a fleeting moment like a flash of light but most often they linger for a few minutes as the minds eye allows us to look back on a smiling face or listen to sounds of laughter. Our memories of Wayne and Linda can never be lost, they are permanently etched, deeply, in our minds mingling with the memories that we now create together.
     Kay and I came together during the most devastating, heartbreaking period of our lives, drawn together by grief we fell in love and married. There were those that felt our marriage defiled our memories of Wayne and Linda, that we no longer remembered the life or the love we grieved for. Well, you hurt us, you added to our grief and caused us great pain but then you also strengthened our resolve, together we have learned to move forward while looking back, together we have learned to love again without remorse.
     Linda and Wayne are memories now, memories that can be brought on by various things, an aroma, scenery along the roadside, a song on the radio, a scene from a movie or maybe it did just pop up out of the blue. There have been times we could be having a conversation with someone when our eyes might water, we may start to sniffle or even be close to outright crying, then for no apparent reason we may smile all because something triggered a memory. We are getting better at setting aside our emotions, we no longer burst into tears for no reason, there are times when we need a hug or a whisper of love and these we freely give to each other. The existence of our grief often is subtle as the pain continues to lessen, our happiness overshadows the sorrow but the sorrow will always be there, I think, for the rest of our lives.
     Five years is just the beginning, for the rest of our lives we will remember our late spouses, the memories may bring tears or smiles, either way they will be welcome because they are a part of us that can never be denied. Five years, it seems like yesterday, five years from now it will still feel like yesterday, memories are funny like that.

                                                        In Loving Memory

          Linda Jean Dingman Riggan                            Charles Wayne Bullock

           3 /30 / 1949  -  9 / 12 / 2014                           12 / 21 / 1952  -  9 / 6 / 2014

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TIME

     Six years ago, Kay's husband Wayne passed away after 35 years of marriage, one week later my wife Linda passed away after 47 years of marriage. It was their time, yet we grieved for them. We continued our existence in time alone yet surrounded by family and friends. We didn't know each other then but time eventually brought us together and over time we learned to live with our grief. Time held our memories of a life never to be forgotten while we made memories in our new life together. 

     But to say that "time heals all wounds" is not really a truism. Time works very well on physical wounds although there may be a scar, time hides wounds of the mind and heart. The wounds lay unseen to most people hidden by a facade that cloaks the bearer. Our's is a wound of the heart that time can not heal.

    Time moves us forward in our love for each other but it can't heal the wounds in our hearts or hide the memories of our past. Six years have gone by, next September will be seven years then eight, nine, ten. We have come to learn that time will continue to heal our wounds but time will never allow us to forget Wayne and Linda, not last year, not this year, not next year.
   
   

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EIGHT YEARS

     At this time of the year, I usually write something about the grief I am experiencing from Linda's passing. It's been eight years, I still feel her loss but it seems different somehow. It's hard to explain, I still miss her but I don't mourn her like in the past, does this mean that I have excepted her loss and moved on?

     Kay and I often think and speak of Wayne and Linda, it's hard not to with so much that triggers a memory but those memories no longer produce tears or feelings of sadness they now bring forth smiles and laughter. This must be another stage in the grieving process but it leaves me a little confused and wondering what or how I will be feeling in the years to come. 

     Whatever the next step in the process is, I know that we will never forget them and the life we had with them.  

                                                       -----------------------------------------------

     About this time every year, I write something about my feelings from losing Linda. These picture my son has posted about Linda are a fitting tribute to her life so I am going to piggyback my thoughts about her.

     After a lifetime of loving and living with someone, you find that you can never forget them or stop loving them though they are no longer with you. Time becomes a scar covering the wound death has left on your heart.

     After nine years, I have moved on, Kay and I have made a good life together and we love each other, we both would rather be spending this time with the person we grieve for but life doesn't always give you what you want. Every day we remember them in different ways, we smile from our thoughts and hold back tears from our sadness then we move forward but we never forget.

     These pictures seem like yesterday, indeed they are yesterday, they are embedded in my memory forever. All that Linda and Wayne were is now a memory that occupies a special place in our hearts. Grief is the one thing time can never erode just as memories can never be forgotten. A wound can be healed but there will always be a scare in it's place to remind us of another time.

               

                                                        -----------------------------------------------

          The ANNIVERSARY

     September has arrived once again, while there are many reasons to be happy about it's arrival there is one thing that cast a shadow over the month. Ten years ago, Kay's husband Wayne passed away on the sixth, my wife Linda passed away on the fourteenth, it was a dark time for the both of us. Like a lot of things in life, there is no guidebook, nothing to tell you what to expect, what to do or how to act, even talking with others who have gone through the grieving process doesn't help much because everyone grieves differently. 

     So, here we are ten years after their passing and we are still grieving for them, we no longer cry ourselves to sleep or walk around looking like we are lost but we do still grieve for them. The emotions have changed, the events leading to their deaths are not as vivid but the memories of their life are as clear as yesterday. We don't need a picture of them because their likeness is embossed into our memory cells and often enters our thoughts, we speak of the good times and smile, sometimes we laugh. 

     I guess this is another phase of the grieving process, maybe the final phase as I can't think of how more years will change my feelings, only those who started their journey before us would know and I suspect they would say grief is never ending. So, here we are celebrating another anniversary, no cake with candles or party favors just each other to hold and a lifetime of memories to make us smile, somehow I think that's enough.

To Believe Or Not To Believe

     "Believe nothing you hear, only half of what you see and everything you feel". According to Encyclopedia .com this quotation is from the mid 19th century and warns against over-reliance on one's own experience.
     I have heard some form of this quote all of my life and sometimes the true meaning came home to roost the hard way. Mostly it was a matter of  "old timers" trying to pull the wool over my eyes while playing a joke or just flat out spinning a yarn laced with truth and vivid embellishments. Either way it was all done with no intended harm and everyone usually got a good laugh out of it. Once you had the wool pulled over your eyes often enough you got to where you could distinguish truth from fiction and though you didn't believe all that you heard you could rely on the honesty of your eyes and feelings. This held true for centuries until the rise of the "internet", since then all hell has broken loose.
     The internet has opened up all kinds of avenues for deceit, deception and out right lying. Even if you are smart enough to determine fact from fiction there are thousands, if not millions, of people who will believe anything they see in print or hear with there own ears. These people think the internet is gospel and everything therein has come down from the mountain engraved in stone. Unfortunately there are people who for whatever reason seem to get a thrill out of spreading rumors, lies and innuendos. They do this for monetary gain, for political power, they do it to mislead, to sway opinion and to slander and yes they do it for the thrill.
     The other day I ran across an internet posting claiming some political figure made a statement that was not only offensive but showed their ignorance on the subject. Because this person has recently been a sore on the backside of the political arena, the posting sounded very much like something they would say and I bought into it hook, line and sinker.  Irritated, I made a comment on the posting only to have someone point out to me the posting was a fake. Why someone would want to mislead the public and malign a political figure is beyond me especially since this political figure seems to be doing enough of that all by themselves. Who created this posting may never be known because the internet seems to welcome anonymity.
     With the internet truth and fiction are one and the same. Pictures can be revised "photo shopped" so skillfully one would believe unicorns actually exist, even recorded statements can sound authentic to the ear. The days of old timers jokingly trying to pull your leg or make a story seem more interesting are long gone, you can't trust that your eyes to see what you think you see or your ears to always hear the truth. I know that from now on I will probably adhere to the old saying "If it sounds (or looks) too good to be true, it probably isn't".
     Abraham Lincoln is quoted to say "you can fool all of the people some of the time, some of the people all of the time but you can not fool all of the people all of the time". In his day he was right, the internet has changed all that, it has changed the world we live in for the good and unfortunately for the worse.
































   

The Jetties

     1966 was a good year, I was dating the most beautiful girl in the world, I was living ( at the invitation of the U.S. Navy ) at the beach in Cocoa Beach, Florida, what more could a guy want ?
     Linda and I were head over heels in love and we took every opportunity to be together. My duties with the Navy didn't have normal hours and Linda was still in high school plus she held down a part time job  to boot. Some how we managed to find time for dates but the hour of the day may have varied though that didn't matter to us. The next hurtle was where to go on our dates.
     We had bought a 1958 Chevy Impala convertible for $350, it was rusty, had about five different colors of paint, three of the four side windows were cracked, the rear plastic window was yellowed but it did have a hot engine. Yea, it was a mess and got a lot of laughs but it was ours.
     As for the places to go on a date they were plentiful.
     There was a small lake, not far from Linda's home, by the name of  Clear Lake. A local civic club of which her father was a member, cleaned up the lake several years earlier. They removed all of the debris and captured all of the alligators and with county funds built a concession stand and picnic tables, the county staffed and managed it. The water was very clear and it was a great place to swim.
     Then there was a drive-in theater, for about fifty cents each we could see a double feature and make out during the intermission or just make out, not all of the movies were interesting. There were good things about the drive-in and not so good, the good was you could take a break anytime to go to the restroom or grab a burger. The bad thing was the mosquitoes, they were horrendous, if you rolled up the windows the heat and humidity was unbearable and the mosquitoes always found a way to get in. The drive-in sold a little repellent device that you lit with a lighter and set on the dash, it smoldered and put out some sort of repellent but here again you had to roll up the windows but then once you got heavy into making out a few hundred mosquitoes were a minor irritation compared to the rivers of sweat we worked up.
     Cocoa Beach was a great place. Back in the 60's the town seemed to never shut down, it was, after all, the height of the Apollo space program. The beach was almost as good as Daytona Beach, it was not as wide but you could drive on it for a couple of miles. Sand, sun and surf, a Florida staple.
     Then there were the "parking areas". Any place you could park your car and make out without being disturbed was a parking area and there were lots of them in failed subdivisions or turn outs along the river road or the beach.
     I need to stop here and layout a little background. I had a good relationship with Linda's Mom, her Dad was a different story but Mom, as I called her, liked me. Sometimes I would be at Linda's house waiting for her to get off work, when she called I would go get her  and save Mom the trouble. As I walked out the door I would jokingly tell Mom "don't wait up we are going to South Carolina to get married", she would smile and say ha ha. Now that I have laid out the above background I will tell you about one of our favorite "parking " places - "The Jetties".
     Port Canaveral was a dividing line between Cape Kennedy which was restricted and the civilian city of Cape Canaveral, it also was a canal connecting the Atlantic Ocean to the inter-coastal waterway and or Banana River. The south side of the port held a small fleet of trawlers and a couple of tug boats. The north side was taken up by the U.S.Navy (this is where I worked ). They had a ship called the USS Observation Island, it monitored all Polaris missile launches from the Polaris submarines that came in for testing. The civilian side also had "The Jetties"they were piles of big rocks on both sides of the channel  that stretched out into the ocean and served as a breaker for the channel and provided for some great fishing.
     The Jetties as we called them were a prime "parking area", they were wild with over grown palmetto bushes, palm trees and sand dunes. the chances of getting stuck in the sugar sand were very good but not a deterrent. Any given Friday and Saturday night would find a steady stream of bouncing headlights as cars carefully navigated the ruts we called a road into the jungle of the Jetties. The great thing about the Jetties was the offshore breezes  that kept the mosquitoes at bay and quickly dried perspiration. When talking about taking your best girl to the Jetties we sometimes said we were going to watch the "submarine races", the fact there were nuclear submarines at the port had nothing to do with races.
     One Friday night I was at Linda's house, she was working till 11:00 pm. I got up to leave and as I walked out the door I told mom "see you tomorrow  Mom", she laughed. I picked Linda up and we decided to go to the Jetties. To make a long story short, things got a little hot and heavy, the next thing we knew it was around four in the morning before we headed home. The sun was coming up when we pulled into the drive, Mom was waiting up when we walked in and in no mood to talk. After that we were careful about when we got home and I didn't joke around with Mom too often. The irony is that with all of the problems she had with the preparations for our wedding, she told us if she had it to do over she would have paid us to go to South Carolina.
     As with many things from my past they exist only in my memories now. The drive-in is long gone, I am sure Clear Lake is still there but somehow it has probably changed. The space program is not as exciting as back in the sixties. Port Canaveral has expanded, a Disney cruise ship sails from there and there is a good sport fishing business and several swanky restaurants. The Jetties, well now  they are a county park known as "Jetty Park", there are paved roads, with paved parking, picnic tables and flowering bushes. Every weekend families gather for a day at the beach, fish on the jetties and hope to see a big ship sail down the channel.
     Some people don't handle change too well, I have to admit I am one of those people but as I have gotten older I realize change is a fact of life.  My "Jetties" are long gone except in my memories, there they are as clear as ever.




























   










































   

Tears Of Love

     When Linda and I got engaged we eagerly made plans for our future starting with the wedding. Linda like most girls dreamed of walking down the isle and holding my hand as we said our vows so a church wedding it was going to be. Plans for our June wedding started in December.
     I don't know who was more excited about this wedding, the bride or the bride's mother. Together they thought of every detail from the invitations to the punch bowl. It seemed that for months the wedding was all Linda and her mom could talk about. My job was to decide who of my relations, friends and acquaintances I was sending an invitation to, get their addresses and once the invitation was written ( Linda did that part ) I scrawled my signature on them.
     My time at my duty station was growing short and I knew that a transfer was upcoming  but had no idea when. This was one thought we tended to ignore, we were happy and in love, nothing could put a damper on our big day or so we thought.
     Just a couple of weeks before the wedding I got my orders. They couldn't have come at a worse time and they couldn't have been more disconcerting. The orders said I was going to Assault Craft Div, 12, the name alone was something to be concerned about. The word "Assault" in any context should be alarming but when the military uses it they usually mean some sort of armed confrontation. Add to that the fact that the unit was listed as secret and no one could tell me anything about the outfit, what was it or where it was. This was 1967, the war in Vietnam was escalating, more and more men and materials were shipping out every day. Every day the list of military personnel wounded or killed in the line of duty grew longer.
     I went to Linda and told her I had orders, I told her everything I knew about the outfit, which was nothing, and told her what I thought I was getting in to. Tours of duty in Vietnam usually went on for 12 months, this was no way to start out a marriage, add to that, I may be in combat with the possibility of getting wounded or worse. Making Linda a widow was on my mind and it didn't sit well. I thought we should postpone the wedding, the possibility of coming home an invalid or in a coffin was something I didn't want to put Linda through.
     Linda took all of this hard, we were in love and she wanted nothing more than to be my wife. She cried so hard rivulets of tears ran down her cheeks, her body trembled with heart wrenching sobs. She pleaded with me. In the end I hugged her and I kissed away the tears, we kept our date at the church. Four months later she kissed me goodbye.
     During her final months Linda refused to be less than upbeat for her friends and family but there were times when I helped her to stand I would hold her tight against me while she cried from the pain and exhaustion. The morning after she passed it was my tears, my heart wrenching sobs that shook my body, she couldn't hold me and kiss away my tears but my love for her got me through.
   
   

Have You Ever

     Have you ever run around in the cool summer evening catching fireflies with your bare hands, have you ever walked in a field of grass to catch grass hoppers to use as fish bait ?
     As a young boy these were but a few activities that occupied my time. We didn't have air conditioning back then, the summers were hot and sticky even in the cool of the evening. We kids would spend most of our waking hours outdoors - scantily clad, barefoot and dripping with rivulets of sweat covering our bodies. We ran around yelling and screaming from dawn til way past dark, our parents impatiently waited for us to wind down so we could bathe and go to bed.
     We played children's games like Cowboys and Indians, Hide and Go Seek, Annie Over, King of the Hill and many more, they were games that got us outside and kept us active. We were skinny, knock kneed, had big ears, dirty faces, unkempt hair and grins from ear to ear. Our Moms did all they could to keep our bellies full but we were so active the calories we consumed were quickly burned away, baby fat was not a term often used in our neighborhood.
     During the day we rode bikes, climbed trees and slid down grass covered hills on pieces of cardboard. In quieter moments we lay on our backs in grass and clover covered lawns looking up at the clouds picking out shapes of animals and faces of people. We would pick the white long stemmed flower of the clover, tie them together to make wreaths, bracelets, chains, belts and necklaces. We captured June Bugs and tied thread to a leg and allowed them to fly about as if on a leash.
     We sat at windows watching a summer storm pelt the earth with large droplets of rain, patiently we waited for the storm to pass so we could go back outside and walk barefoot through warm puddles of fresh rain water. After a summer storm the rain drops took time to fall through the leaves and wash the dust away leaving an aroma of freshness to fill young lungs at play.
     When the nighttime came we punched holes in jar lids to allow air to enter mason jars that held the fireflies ( lightning bugs ) that we caught. We played Hide and Go Seek loudly yelling "you're it" when we tagged someone as we ran around in the dark. We raised our heads and looked into the night sky searching for the "Little Dipper" or the "North Star" among the millions of stars visible. We watched distant flashes of lightning in far away storm clouds.
     Have you ever spent time on a farm ? I got to spend my summers with my Grandpa and Granny Riggan on their farm. Grandpa was a farmer of the old school, he had no combustible engine powered machines, he used mules to pull his plows, his bare hands to milk his cows and the muscles  of  his lean body to toss around bales of hay to feed his animals.
     The farm was old, it had been a long time since the house had seen a coat of paint, the tin roof was rusty. The foundation was large rocks set at the corners allowing cool air to flow beneath the house. The steps were large thick stones worn smooth over the years by countless bare feet and shoes. I guess the place wasn't much to look at but to a young boy it was a whole new world filled with discovery and adventure.
     Walking barefoot through a farm yard was not like walking through clover, if you were not careful you might step in something squishy only to look down and see oozing chicken poop between your toes. The "peeping" sounds of newborn chickens would catch your attention as they foraged for bits of food or scampered for the protection of the mother hens wings.
     Have you ever walked barefoot behind a team of mules as they plowed furrows of fresh earth or maybe you rode them bareback listening to your Grandfather guide them along with "gee's and haw's" ? Have you ever played in the hayloft of a barn building forts and tunnels from bales of hay or climbed high in an apple tree to pick apples and eat them while white clouds floated overhead in a blue sky ? Have you ever gone down on your knees and lapped cool clean water from a stream as it meandered through shadowy woods or chased grasshoppers in a field of tall hay ? Have you ever skipped stones across the calm waters of a pond or lake ?
     No, I don't suppose you have done any of these things because they were a way of life from a time of long ago, a time of my youth, a time when life was a little more relaxed and enjoyable.
     I wish you could have been there when life was carefree when all kids had to worry about was how much longer they could stay outside and play before it was bedtime.
     Some say technology is robbing the kids today of their youth, I think this may be true. But then again it could be that video games, computers and cellphones are the new "Cowboys and Indians" or "fireflies". At least you can go barefoot while playing a video game and you won't get dirt on your face after spending all day on a computer but it sounds like a lonely way to grow up, how sad.
 

The Great Greats

     Every time my sister Vickie comes for a visit she brings with her missing parts of our family history, this trip was no different. Once in a while Vickie will find some new bit of family history, this time we now have a face to put with the name of our Great, Great Grandfather and his three brothers.
     The American branch of the Riggan family tree has been traced  back about thirteen generations to  the 1500's when they arrived in the Virginia Tidewaters. After a while they migrated down in to Warren County, North Carolina then at a later date they moved westward into Wilson County, Tennessee. Surely there are family relations still living in Wilson County, their name may have changed due to marriage but they are family.
      I remember that there was a small room in Grandpa's house, it held some old pieces of furniture and there were a couple of framed pictures of what I considered "old people", I was a young boy then and not interested in old pictures. It was a long time ago but I probably had my first glimpse in to the past. The picture at the top of the page was taken sometime back in the 1800's. That's Daniel Newton "Newt" Riggan in the top left, top right is James Madison "Matt" Riggan, bottom right is William Henry Riggan and the bottom left picture is Benjamin Calvin Riggan - my Great, Great Grandfather. They were a scruffy looking bunch with their beards and in need of a haircut but that was the fashion of the day. Scruffy or not these brothers are my Great, Great Uncles and Grandfather, it is sort of nice to put a face to a name.
      The mid 1800's were troubling times for the nation. Southern states, Tennessee for one, didn't like the northern states telling them how to live and it wasn't long before there was a war between the states. The Riggan's and Wade's have fought in almost every war this country has been involved in, the men in the picture were no different, at least two of them enlisted in the Confederate army. James Madison Riggan signed up but that's about all we know. Then there was Daniel, he enlisted in the Confederate Army in 1861 as a Private in Company K of the 7th Regiment of the Tennessee Infantry. He was described as being dark complected, 5'10" with hazel eyes and black hair. He fought and was wounded at the battle of Manassas on August 27, 1862. He recuperated in the Sudley hospital and after a time was assigned as baggage guard in Staunton, Virginia. On January 23, 1865 Daniel was listed as a "Deserter" but then according to  a document  Vickie found, Daniel signed an "oath of allegiance" and became a member of the Union Army on January 25, 1865. The war ended in April 1865 and Daniel went home to Tennessee. William Henry Riggan and Benjamin Calvin Riggan may have fought in the war but so far no record has been found to verify that.
     The family lived in the Leeville area of Wilson County, Tennessee, I understand there are a lot of family buried in the Leeville cemetery. Not much is known about William Henry Riggan or about James Madison Riggan although we wonder why the picture calls him "Matt", nickname maybe ?
     Benjamin Calvin Riggan was born on October 20, 1833. In 1848 about the time he turned 15 his father Samuel Harper Riggan passed away. There were seven children, four boys, three girls and after the death of their father all of the kids were spread around to other family members. Great Great Grandpa Ben named one of his sons Sam, he was my Great Grandfather, who named one of his sons Howard Edgar who was my Grandfather.
     There is more to this story but it gets confusing trying to keep straight who was married to who and who were the in - laws. I'm not someone who likes to rummage around in old papers and files or spend hours in libraries, little sister Vickie though seems to live for the hunt and I get to enjoy the fruits of her labor. Sis likes to put the leaves on the branches of the family tree and I have no doubt she could create a very dense family tree. I on the other hand, think that while it is interesting to see a tree full of names branching out in all directions I am alright if a little sun shine filters through.

There Was A Time When

     Recently there was a picture that turned up on Facebook, it was a picture of a sign for the price of gasoline back in the late 1960's or 70's. The price was $.27 per gallon and the caption on the picture asked if anyone remembered buying gas for that price, well I do remember buying gas for $.27 per gallon and cheaper. I commented on the post that I remembered when Linda and I were dating we could buy gas for $.15 per gallon, get into the drive-in movie for $ 1.00 and buy cokes and popcorn and the whole date cost no more than $5.00, oh and we got S&H Green stamps with the gas. Green Stamps and Top Value stamps were a giveaway when you bought gas, groceries and some other items, they were redeemable for merchandise.
     I was telling Kay's brothers Bob and Doug and her nephew Rick about the picture and that started the memory cells popping for all of us.
     There was a time when there was no such thing as a "convenience store", there were grocery stores that only sold groceries and there were service stations that sold gas and oil and performed various mechanical services. Grocery stores were where Mom went to stock up on all of the good things we ate and drank. Very few of those items other than ice cream were frozen foods, the frozen food section at the store Dad and I worked at was only about twelve feet long vs. the several isles of frozen foods in today's stores.
     Service stations on the other hand were a very customer oriented business, when you pulled in to fill up your tank with gas an employee would come running out and ask how much gas you wanted and he would pump it for you. While the gas was pumping he would open the hood of your car and check your oil, water, clean your windshield and check the air pressure in your tires all while you sat comfortably in your car, when he was done he would take your money ( this was before credit cards ) and bring your change to you along with your Green stamps / Top Value stamps or whatever giveaway they had going on at the time such as dishes, glasses or some little curio. Linda and my mother were the queens of the giveaway programs, we acquired several new sets of dishes from gas fill ups and traded Green stamps for clothing, small appliances, fishing rods and toys.
     In addition to selling gas and oil, service stations also provided mechanical services such as replacing shock absorbers, brakes, new tires, fix flats, tune ups, replace clutches and many other things their customers required. Often times the customer could wait while the work was being performed and for their convenience the station had drink boxes filled with different varieties of cold drinks covered in ice, cost $.10. They also had jars of penny candy ( bubble gum, lolly pops and jaw breakers ) as well as jars of "Toms" crackers - both peanut butter or cheese for another $.10. Most often the waiting room was a couple of uncomfortable metal chairs with thin seat cushions and smudged with grease, the whole place usually smelled of grease and exhaust fumes.  Another service they provided because there were no credit cards in use at that time, each establishment usually allowed customers to open a charge account which would be paid off on payday or the end of the month, there was no interest charged and the end result was that the customer felt a sense of loyalty to the business and wouldn't go anywhere else.
     The owners of these establishments were often the employees who were pumping your gas one minute and changing a tire the next. Many had been family owned for years, fathers and sons worked side by side. Pressure bells were stretched across the drive way, they loudly rang when a car drove across them and someone in coveralls would come running out wiping his dirty grease covered hands on an equally dirty grease covered shop rag. They always had a smile on their face and a genuine interest in your well being, they were your neighbor, high school classmate or acquaintance you had known for years.
     Sometime in the 1970's convenience stores came into the picture, they sold gas and the bare essentials of groceries, the customer usually pays more for the products they sell and there is no one pumping your gas or replacing your clutch.
     All of this got me to thinking about more of the things that have gone by the wayside.
     When one of us got sick we didn't go to the doctors office, the doctor came to us, for one thing Mom didn't know how to drive and Dad couldn't just take off from work. When a doctor was needed Mom would call his service and tell them what was wrong, the doctor would determine who he would see first, then come to the house diagnose the sick person and either call for an ambulance or write a prescription for a medication, if necessary the doctor would even come out late at night.
     Then there was the "Fuller Brush Man". Door to door salesmen were a dying breed in the 1950's, like the internet sales of today the 1950's housewife could buy pretty much anything she wanted or needed from a door to door salesman. The Fuller Brush man came around once a month and offered all types of brushes, combs and other little nick- knacks. There were brushes to scrub the floor or for a babies silky hair and combs made of plastic to stick in a boys back pocket, bottle brushes, nail files and brushes for polishing shoes, all he had to do was reach into his big sample case and pull out the needed item.
     The "Jewel Tea" salesman was similar in that he came around once a month driving a delivery van full of things for the homemaker, he sold teas and coffee and dishware, the dishware consisted of plates, serving platters, gravy dishes, tea pitchers, bowls and saucers, these items are valuable and highly sought after today.
     There was the milk man who delivered milk in glass bottles, cheeses, butter and other dairy products to your front door a couple of times a week. They would come early so that your order would be sitting on your doorstep when you woke up.
     There was a man who sold "Charles Chips", he too drove a delivery truck and stopped by once a month with cans of potato chips, corn chips and other like delicacies.
     In the summertime men or teenage boys would push carts through the neighborhoods that were filled with ice cream bars, Popsicles and dry ice to keep them frozen, the most expensive item was about seven cents. The carts had a cow bell which would be rung to announce their presence, the man or boy would push the cart up and down the hills in the hot sun or if he was lucky the cart was adapted to a tricycle that he pedaled. Neighbor kids of all ages would start begging their mother for money the moment they heard the bell ringing.
     Many a young boy started his business career as a paperboy, they rode bikes with big baskets attached to the handle bars and cloth saddle bags that contained the daily newspaper that they hand rolled and tossed on your doorstep or at least in the driveway. They were up before school and made their deliveries in all kinds of weather, once a month they came around at night to collect payment for the papers which usually cost about $.10 each.
     Life insurance was sold door to door and for as little as $.10 per month you could have a $500 policy, if you couldn't be there when the salesman came by just leave your dime on the doorstep with your payment book, the salesman would mark the book as paid and take the money.
     There was a time when people were not afraid of answering the door because they knew the person on the other side. There was a time when people would go to bed and not lock their doors and leave things in their vehicles with the knowledge they would be there in the morning. There was a time when honesty and integrity were a common theme, they are the times that old people from any age would look back on and wonder where the good old days went.
      There was a time when I lived with all of these things going on around me but I have learned that nothing stays the same and change is often so subtle that one day you look back and wonder what happened. I am now that old person who looks back on the good old days knowing that there was a time when life seemed much simpler - where did it go.


   

Hand Me Downs

     There was a time when life was simpler, when people did not look down on you for being frugal because being frugal was an ordinary way of life, even those who were well to do were frugal because they remembered where they came from. There was a fine line between being poor and being frugal. I think we grew up being frugal but it wasn't always like that, there was a time when I think we may have been on the back side of that fine line but mostly we were just frugal. We always had a roof over our heads, food in our bellies and clothes on our backs, but that didn't stop us from pinching pennies, stretching the dollar or tightening the belt on occasion. It is the clothes on our backs that brings to mind this story.
     I am the oldest of five kids, not only was I the oldest I was the tallest. I would say I was the biggest ( weight wise ) but we were all skinny and didn't start putting on weight until our late twenties or early thirties. With five kids Mom seemed to always be looking for ways to keep the cost down, in addition to making many of our clothes she came up with ways to get the most out of all of our clothes. This is where being the oldest and biggest was an asset, when it came to clothing I was usually lucky enough to get new clothes, my brother Pat was fifteen months younger than me and we usually got the same things at the same time but Sis and my other two brothers got "hand- me- downs". Little sister Vickie and little brother Ronnie sometimes got their "hand-me-downs" from cousins or friendly neighbors.
     I don't know when the term "hand-me-downs" first came into play but I do remember hearing it often when I was growing up. It generally was a reference to used articles of clothing that were passed along to someone else after the original owner outgrew them. Pants, shirts, jackets, skirts, blouses and shoes would be passed along to the younger kids as a way to save money. Socks usually were beyond repair and thank goodness there was an unspoken rule about underwear, seems Moms everywhere were really concerned about the probability of their kids showing up at a hospital emergency room in less than clean underwear.
     To make the clothes last, mothers went to great lengths to keep them in good condition ready for the next kid. In the 1950's "Blue Jeans" were the pants of choice for young boys, they were very durable and easy to repair. The first thing Mom's would do is buy the jeans too long knowing that boys would often grow several inches in height over a short period of time. To compensate for the extra length the pants leg would be folded up at the bottom to form a cuff, the height of the cuff would depend on the growth spurts of the boy, cuffs were as little as two inches high or as much as six inches.
     Then there was the issue of wear and tear, we boys were and still are hard on clothes, rips or thin worn spots, mostly in the area of the knee, were quite common. The rips were usually taken care of with a needle and thread but the spots where the material was worn so thin that a hole was created required repairing with a patch similar to a patch for flat tires. My mom had a supply of patches made from pieces of jeans that could no longer be repaired, a piece of material from an old worn out pair of jeans was cut to size and sewn over the worn spot, then someone invented something called the "iron on patch" was available as a quick easy fix, it was a piece of dungaree material embedded with a glue activated with heat.
     Being able to tell the difference between the oldest and youngest of the family was easy, if the kid was wearing jeans without patches he was the oldest, with patches he was one of the younger kids. Another way to tell was to look for wear on the collars and cuffs of shirts, some articles of clothing had a tendency to fade after having been washed a few dozen or more times and then there were the  missing or mismatched buttons.
     Our parents grew up in hard times, during the depression money was hard to come by and no resource was squandered. Whatever the cause or reason "hand-me-downs" were a common sight everywhere you looked. Some kids wore their "hand-me downs" with disdain while others wore them with pride, as for me it was times like these that being the oldest was pretty nifty.
     Every now and then I was the recipient of "hand-me-downs", Mom did make me a jacket out of Dad's navy dress blues uniform, I didn't wear it for long seems that at sixteen I was bigger than Dad when he was twenty. One of my first jobs was in a jewelry store  as a salesman, I needed another suit and didn't have the funds for one, Dad had me come by the house one night, he went to his closet and came out with a suit and pair of shoes that belonged to my Grandfather who had passed away some ten or twelve years earlier. The suit was in style some thirty or forty years earlier, I probably looked like the proverbial country bumpkin but out of necessity and respect I wore the suit until I could afford a new one.
     Hand-me-down clothes were not the only things that were passed along from one family member to another. Often fathers passed down tools of their trade to sons who would follow in their footsteps, mothers passed down favorite recipes to their daughters, family heirlooms were handed down from generation to generation. Cars, property even businesses were passed from one family member to another.
     Often it is a keepsake, some memento of a loved one who is no longer with us that reminds us of who we are and where we came from, these little trinkets from another time and place hold us to a past filled with memories and or knowledge of those we knew and loved or those we want to know about. Handing down  a keepsake belonging to an ancestor often carries with it a story that in essence can keep that persons spirit alive.
     I think my legacy is the stories I write, a form of "hand-me-downs" I am passing along about a lifetime of memories about people, places and a way of life that once existed to a future generation that just may wonder where they came from.

A Quarters Worth Of Fun

     For some time now Kay and I have been getting together with her family on Thursday's to support her niece Jan who has Early Onset Alzheimer. We meet at a bowling center in Gainesville, bowl a couple of games, talk, and go to lunch where we talk some more. Thursday turns into a day long affair filled with joking, criticism, laughter and general merry making.
     I have never known an entire family to be so close as Kay's family is, what effects one touches  all, they laugh together, cry together, feel each others pain and rejoice in each others happiness. Their numbers have dwindled over the last few years but the loved ones they have lost are legends held in high esteem as their stories are told time and again at gatherings such as we have each Thursday. They truly are a family.
     Besides a little cockiness every now and then when bowling, I bring my four year old grandson Matthew to these outings. It started out that bringing Matthew was a way for he and I to have quality time together. The bowling alley is set up for young kids to enjoy bowling along with the adults, they have bumpers that raise up on either side of the alley and plastic dinosaurs that incline, the kids can place the ball on the head and push it down the tail on it's way down the alley to the pins. It amazes me that I can throw a 12 lb ball hard down the lane and knock over a few of the pins while Matthew gives a 6 lb ball a push so slight that it takes the ball forever to lumber down to the pins knocking over most of them in slow motion.
     Matthew was a hit from the beginning, little kids seem to brighten the day for older people and I found myself having to share him especially with Rick, Kay's nephew who is my age. There were times in the beginning when Matthew started out strong but quickly fell into a slump, seems his sleep habits were seriously out of kilter with the rest of the world and he just ran out of steam about half way through the bowling. We would look around and find him laying under a table sound asleep or he would develop an attitude and refuse to participate. I must admit disappointment on my part but I kept bringing him back, each week seemed to awaken a different Matthew but that is the way with little ones.
     Sometimes we pick up Kay's niece Jan who has taken a special liking to Matthew, he puts a smile on her face, at the bowling alley he will talk to her and even climb on her lap. According to Bob, Jan's Dad, Jan would be happy if all she had were Matthew and a dog. This is not to say that Matthew doesn't spread himself around, two weeks ago he was sitting in every body's lap and getting hugs from all. The other person who showers him with attention is Rick. Rick makes sure that Matthew is set up to bowl, he gets the dinosaur in position, helps Matthew get his ball set up and encourages him to push the ball on it's way then high fives and fist bumps with him regardless the outcome, it is fun to watch as Rick carefully positions the dinosaur at the right angle hoping to achieve a strike. Rick will ask Matthew about the toys he brings and listen as Matthew goes into great detail about their capabilities. The rest of us often wonder who is having more fun - Rick or Matthew.
     Today was like any other Thursday, we picked up Matthew,  Kay asked him questions about how high he could count and sang the ABC song with him. He told Kay he was going to save some money and buy a skateboard, Kay asked what color the board would be he said blue, his favorite color. Kay said she thought red was his favorite color which prompted Matthew to say he had three favorite colors, red , blue and green.We picked up Jan and as I drove I could hear Jan talk to him. When we got to the bowling alley  Kay and I grabbed the bowling balls and I had Matthew hold Jan's hand while we walked to the building, it was a beautiful sight.
     Once inside it wasn't long before Matthew's giggles were heard. From somewhere, I think from Pam ( Jan's sister ) Matthew came up with a quarter. Seems like we were all showing Matthew different things to do with a quarter, from flipping it to spinning it and even doing magic tricks with it. He got pretty adept with the magic tricks, he would perform the trick where he would hide the coin in his palm, he would run around showing everyone, giggling the whole time. He learned how to balance the quarter on the end of his finger, then his nose and forehead. Who would have thought a simple quarter could generate so much fun for a little boy. He started out with one quarter but lost it, Pam gave him another then he found the one he lost and as we headed out to lunch she gave him two more for his skateboard.
     Matthew was very active today, more so than he had been before, it was like he was on a sugar high. He was all over the place climbing up in laps, getting and giving hugs to everyone but when I strapped him in the car seat for lunch he was asleep before we got out of the parking lot. When we arrived at the restaurant I had to carry him in, he sat on his chair and leaned on me still sleeping. About forty five minutes later he woke up and ate his hot dog.
     When were headed to Jan's house she asked where her bowling ball was, Kay told her it was in the front seat because there was no room in the backseat. This answer prompted Matthew to say that we needed to get a  "monster truck" then we would have more room. It was Matthew's day, it was Jan's day.
      Alzheimer is slowly taking Jan away from those she loves and who love her. It is not an easy thing to watch a loved one slowly slip away but that is what is happening to Jan, there are times the disease seems to be evolving quickly so every moment is cherished, all the family can do is watch, hope and pray. It is not surprising that a small child can bring so much laughter, so many smiles and such happiness into such a dire situation, it is a gift children have and they are good at it. I am proud of Matthew for making so many people happy and I don't mind sharing him with family.

     Update - Kay and I were at Matthew's T-Ball game yesterday, Marie told us that Matthew shared his quarters with his sister MJ - he gave her two of them.
     









 
















   

Not Long Ago

     Not long ago, there was a world less hectic, prior to World War Two it was hard to find women in the work force, men even held clerical jobs and women were housewives and Moms. WWII put an end to this life style as women were needed to take the place of the men who went off to war. When the war was over the women didn't want go back to being housewives and the men wanted to be more than clerks. The war was over and America entered a new era of prosperity but even these changes were not sufficient to completely ignore a way of life that sired the "Greatest Generation".
     I know it's probably hard to comprehend  but close your eyes and try to imagine almost nonexistent traffic on the streets of your community on a Sunday, think about having every weekend off work and a five day forty hour work week. Would you believe that in 1950's the only shopping allowed on Sunday was at grocery stores, drug stores and gas stations. Well that's the way things used to be.
     Many communities had what was called "blue laws" which simply stated that all businesses would close on Sunday, the exceptions would be gas stations, grocery stores and drug stores. With blue laws in effect people had leisure time available to them to go to church, visit friends or relatives, go on outings or just stay at home and do nothing. Dad had every Sunday and half a day Tuesdays as his days off during the week, he would use the time to visit our grandparents and as we got older we would go to the lake.
     Traffic on the roadways on Sunday was extremely light , the downtown area in Nashville was almost dead silent. Out in the suburbs things would start to move after church let out but traffic never really got heavy as it would during the week.
     Sometime in the early 1970's things started to change little by little. Up until then it was not unheard of for someone to be born, raised, work and die without leaving the county they were born in. People would often get a job with a company and stay with it until they retired, the companies had a better appreciation for the employees, the employees enjoyed their work and were loyal to the company. The company provided health care for the employee and his family at no cost and set aside retirement funds. Chain stores were unheard of at that time, the stores that served the community were owned and operated by people who lived in the community, often the business was handed down from generation to generation.
     People would leave home or go to bed at night without locking doors. Children could roam the neighborhood without fear of strangers, they used words like "yes sir, no mam, please and thank you", they showed respect towards their elders
     I remember the old joke about Indians, "When the white man came to this country Indian tribes roamed the lands, the women did all of the chores while the warriors hunted and fished all day, the white man decided he could improve on all that". Well, someone decided that they could indeed improve on the existing system and set out to prove it.
     At the time there were stores that specialized in a particular product, stores that sold only shoes or suits while others sold every day clothes for children or adults, there were stores that specialized in women's clothing and stores that sold nothing but hardware. Shopping malls were unheard of and "strip mall" was not yet a part of the vocabulary but then along came the big chain discount stores.
     I remember the first such store was a company called "Zayers", they were the forerunner of K Mart. Zayers sold every thing from clothing to spark plugs, gold fish to TVs, they sold it cheap and they were open for business seven days a week. Competition for the chain stores were the more  established stores such as J C Penney, Sears and Roebucks who had started in business in the mid 1800's, they sold quality merchandise and stood behind what they sold but most of all they adhered to the policies of the communities they served, they closed on Sunday.
     The blue laws of the community forbid any business considered non - essential from opening on Sunday, those that did open were subject to fines of hundreds of dollars per day and even up to fifteen hundred per day. Zayer was new and exciting, everyone wanted to see the wave of the future consequently Zayer took in a couple of thousand dollars in the first hour of business, they gladly paid the fines every week until the blue laws were struck down.
     This was the early 1970's and the nation was standing on the edge of the future. It didn't happened over night, it took years to finally come a round. First it was "strip malls" a collection of stores in one long building fronted by a giant parking lot, then it was the "shopping mall" which housed a collection of stores under one roof. Every state had a big shopping mall that was the biggest in the state then someone built the biggest mall in the south, the north and finally in the nation. Every section of town had there own shopping mall but there was always one that was bigger than the rest and they all were open for business seven days a week closing only for Christmas, Thanksgiving and New Years Day.
      Life styles began to change, prosperity gave people with a case of the "I wants" the ability to have whatever they wanted so companies increased their inventories which increased the need for more employees which gave the "I wanters" more money to spend. Now the companies want to give customers whatever they want when they want it so they went to a seven day work week and twenty four hours a day.
     Back in the 50's and 60's TV broadcast on three channels about fifteen hours a day, then in the 1980's satellite and cable TV came along with 150 channels twenty four hours a day, many of those channels were shopping channels offering all kinds of products available for $19.99 with free overnight shipping. Then along comes the computer and the world wide web, you no longer needed to get out of bed to go shopping, if a product could be bought in a store it was for sale on the internet.
     Companies were created to bring together products from every manufacturer, warehouses were built to accommodate huge inventories, buildings of a million square feet  employing hundreds of people working seven days a week twenty four hours a day are strategically located around the country. Workers can choose which shift they want, 1st, 2nd or 3rd, they can work four ten hour days or four twelve hour days or work rotating shifts, overtime was rampant. Many companies just work a flat twelve hours a day six days a week and then ask employees to come in for a few hours on the seventh day.
     Employee loyalty declined as benefits declined, companies in an attempt to cut cost decided that staffing a facility was easy, employees were a dime a dozen turn over rates were high but the work load didn't slow down.
     The world as I knew it has changed, the "rat race" eluded to in the 50's & 60's pales in comparison to today's society. Some people work all night and sleep all day, families often meet at the front door as the parents work different shifts, Mom may be the one to put the kids to bed and Dad wake them and get them ready for school but this is often life in the 7/24 world we live in today.
     Every generation experiences life style changes that differ from those of their parents but the "Greatest Generation and the Baby Boomers" seems to have had more than their share of growth spurts. Starting with the "Space Race" the growth of technology was rapid and seemingly never ending, the greatest thing since sliced bread today is obsolete next week. The way things are going this fast paced life style is going to be a long time slowing down.
     Is it no wonder that as people age they often speak of the "Good Ol' Days" with fondness and longing, is it no wonder that they try to recapture their youth by dreaming of days gone by. All of these changes mean little to some of us old people, we may complain about this new world but we will be the first to embrace it rather than the alternative. Personally I plan to fight for the last breath I draw.
    So the next time you see an old person sitting and staring aimlessly at nothing in particular with a sadness in  their eyes, ask yourself - are they dreaming of a time long gone or are they thinking about what they are going to miss when they leave this world.
     Just remember, one day you will be the old person staring aimlessly at nothing in particular, will your past be worth holding on to ?
   

More Fish Stories

     When I turned into a teenager at thirteen and went to work with Dad I didn't spend as much time at home. Mom was the woman in my life then, I now had an income and opted to spend some of it on Mom for Mother's Day. The thing Mom wanted was a one day fishing permit, two dozen minnows and me to take her to the creek to fish for crappie.
     The Saturday night before Mother's Day Dad would stop at a bait shop where I would buy a one day fishing permit and two dozen minnows. When we got home I would place the minnows under a dripping outside water faucet in hopes of keeping them alive till the next morning. Come the crack of dawn we would grab our gear and walk down to the creek about a quarter mile away and fish until the bait ran out. We usually caught some fish which I would clean when we got home and Mom and I would eat later.
     I kept up this practice for the next five years when I went into the Navy, when I returned I started back with Linda joining us but the family was getting bigger and life more hectic, the fishing trips just came to an end.



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     I was a shop supervisor for a company in 2005, Rick, the purchasing manager was an avid fisherman who had recently gotten into fishing for Redfish in Louisiana. He told anybody who would listen all about the great fishing in a little town called Jean Lafitte, La.. After a while he wanted to put together a trip and asked if I wanted to go along, Linda said I could so we made plans. The date we set was a weekend in late August 2005. Rick's boat was a 19 footer and could easily fish three people so Rick invited Russ who was a supplier, the trip was a go.
     The day arrived, we all met at Rick's house after work on a Wednesday night, we loaded up and hit the road by about 6:30 and for the next ten hours we were on the road. We arrived about four in the morning and met up with Chris a guy Rick had met on a previous trip, Chris lived in Baton Rouge and kept a fish camp of sorts in Jean Lafitte. Chris had a co-worker with him, they had been fishing for a couple of days. After rubbing the sleep from their eyes and downing a cup of coffee they were ready to go so we loaded up in their boat and headed for Grand Isle.
     We were going after the "Bull Reds" as they were called, Bull Reds were the mature Redfish who came in yearly to spawn in the shallow waters, they usually weighed in at twenty five to fifty plus pounds and took fifteen to twenty minutes to land one on the same rod we used for catching three pound bass in Georgia.
     Grand Isle was about forty miles by water, we started out in the dark but the sun was up when we got there and anchored down in twelve feet of water about a quarter mile from shore. Chris got Rick, Russ and I baited up and our lines in the water then he and his co-worker sat back and watched the fun. It didn't take long before the fish took the bait, I can't remember who hooked up first but it wasn't long till all three of us had a fish on at the same time. All of a sudden the 19 foot boat felt real small.
     I can't remember the name they had for it, Redfish Trot, Louisiana Two Step or whatever but we were doing it. All three of us had a Bull on the line at the same time and the fish went in all directions trying to get away. As we walked around the boat with our lines crossing and having to duck under each other Chris and his friend sat back and watched, laughing their butts off the whole time. The first half hour found us showing off our catch to the camera, it was determined that my fish was the biggest and weighed in about thirty pound. After catching one more each we headed back as Chris had to go home.
     Once Chris left we launched Rick's boat and headed out again to closer fishing grounds. Having been up since about 6:00 am the previous day we called it a day about 6:00 pm. Rick started cleaning the fish we caught as Russ and I watched and that's when it happened, Rick sliced his hand open with the knife and it definitely needed stitches.
     I loaded up Rick and took him into town to find a doctor, we found one but they said the cut was more than they could handle and sent us to the emergency room about ten miles down the road. To make a long story short, we were at the emergency room for about three hours, we had not eaten since the night before and had been awake since about 6:00 am the day before. We stopped off at Mc Donalds on the way back and picked up food for us and Russ, we ate and went to bed.
     The next day the talk was about a hurricane called Katrina wondering around the gulf. The locals seemed concerned about Katrina but we fished all day then headed to New Orleans for dinner. Rick and Russ decided to take in some of the sights after dinner. They took them in alright, having been to New Orleans before I waited in the truck, it was about four in the morning when they staggered back and I had to drive back to the camp.
     It is now Saturday morning, Rick and Russ are sleeping off the night before. I awoke about Nine and watched the news, the big story again was Hurricane Katrina still swirling around in the Gulf still a couple hundred miles away but definitely getting closer, the wind had picked up and was quite brisk. When Rick and Russ got up I pointed out that this storm was going to present a problem for us. Rick's answer to that was "oh no that storm is still a long way off and they don't know where it's going, let's go fishing".
     We went to the gas pumps and started filling the tank when the attendant came out to tell us a mandatory evacuation order had been issued, again Rick thought the people were crazy so we headed out for Grand Isle.
     When you come into Grand Isle you go under a wooden bridge, the marina is to the left and the pass is straight ahead and a little to the left is the Gulf of Mexico. As we came under the bridge I could see a white  line at the pass, I pointed it out to Rick and he wondered what it was I told him it was surf and it was not supposed to be there. When we got to the surf line there were rolling swells a good six feet tall and where we were fishing two days before was some of the meanest looking ocean I had ever seen.
     We did get the anchor to hold but the fish were probably running from Katrina like we should have, the people at the Grand Isle marina were packing up but fed us anyway then we headed back. The trip back was rough because the waves were running about three feet, there wasn't a dry spot in the boat. When we got back to the marina we loaded up for our trip back to Atlanta, Rick was still amazed that the people were in such a tizzy about the hurricane but the fish quit biting and businesses were closing, it was time to go.
     Leaving New Orleans we were rerouted through Jackson, Mississippi, it was a long drive and we didn't get home until the wee hours of Sunday morning. Katrina in the mean time made landfall in Grand Isle. Monday morning Katrina was all Rick could talk about, as he watched the news feed on the computer he would say how we were lucky to have left when we did.
     The devastation to the New Orleans area was enormous but we were back the next spring doing our bit for the area's economy.



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     Not long after returning from the Katrina trip, I purchased a boat, it was a 19 foot bay boat powered by a 150 hp Johnson engine. What at first started out to be an annual trip to Jean Lafitte soon turned into two trips per year, we pulled two boats down and fished three people per boat.
     The trips often were notable for some of the things that happened as much as for the fish we caught.
     To start the fishing waters around Jean Lafitte were some of the most bountiful I have ever seen but the most bountiful thing in Jean Lafitte was the "mosquitoes", there were probably ten billion per person. The night time was worse than the daytime, if you didn't have a strong breeze blowing then you walked around slapping at every part of your body, they could even bit through the clothing. When you were on the water it wasn't so bad as long as you stayed out from the shore line.
     Then there was the wild life, some of which you never saw and probably didn't want to. Every now and then we would run across an alligator, we new they were there but the only ones we saw were the young ones - four to five feet long. The gators stayed just out of reach but they were curious of us and would drift in closer, I always seemed to have someone on my boat that thought it was fun to antagonize the gator by casting his spinner bait at them. After awhile even gators will get testy and snap at the thing that bothers them, then you have a tug of war on your hands.
     One guy that was with me hooked a gator in his front foot and reeled him along side the boat then looked at me and said "now what do I do" , I handed him a knife to cut his line. The next guy who caught one actually hooked him in the mouth when the gator snapped at the lure, when he got the gator to the boat he asked the same question, when I told him to cut the line he complained because the gator had his lure so I told him that it was my boat and my rule was there would be no gators on board. I probably should have let him bring it aboard just to see what would happen.
     Then there was one trip where Russ and his son were on my boat, we followed Chris down to Grand Isle for the Bulls. It was a little rough that day as we had to sit down to fight the fish most of the time but we were having a good time and catching fish. At one point I was fighting a decent sized fish, Russ and his son were watching me when my fish made a pass along side the boat and we could see that he was being followed by another fish. Russ's son had his line out of the water with the bait hanging over the side of the boat, when he saw the second fish he dropped the bait in the water and the second fish attacked it, now we had two fish on.
    After Russ's son landed his fish he baited up and tossed his bait out, it wasn't long till he got a bite and the fight was on but it was very one sided. I think you should know that we fished with thirty pound test braided line that I swear couldn't be broken with fifty pounds of pull. Anyway Russ's son hooked his fish and it took off heading out to sea, the drag on his reel was singing and the fish wouldn't slow down, it just kept going till the knot tying the line to the spool snapped. Somewhere there was a fish of unknown size swimming around with 150 yards of braided line trailing behind him.
     About fifteen minutes later I hooked what I thought was the great grandfather of all Redfish, He put up a damn good fight , twice he headed out to sea but I turned him around, he stayed just about thirty yards out swimming back and forth, I slowly worked him in closer to the boat. After about fifteen minutes, as a wave moved in towards the boat I saw a flash of silver in the wave which was strange because redfish were a bronze color. The fish kept fighting, Russ and his son just sat there and watched wondering what I had, finally the fish went under the anchor line and got on the back side of the boat. The fish was tiring and so was I when he went under the boat, I pulled him back and was able to get his head up and there it was - a shark. This sucker was about five to six feet long, the only reason I was able to bring him in was that the hook was wedged in his teeth so he couldn't cut the line. Russ looked at me and asked what we were going to do, I handed him a knife and told him to take a picture and cut the line sharks were not allowed on my boat.


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     The above trip proved to be the most exciting one yet. Come Sunday morning we loaded up and headed out of town on the long trip back to Atlanta. Russ and his son were in my truck, Rick and two other guys were in his truck behind us. Rick had traded boats, he now had a small shallow water boat with an aluminum trailer.
     So here we were leaving town, I was in the lead  when we came upon a two lane bridge over a small canal. Just as I was about to go over the top a truck just like mine came at me so close that his mirror hit mine and banged it into my window, he kept going. When I got out I saw my boat was riding high on the trailer and both axles were bent. Rick on the other hand had been hit on the side of the truck bed and his boat, he ran off the road but not before his boat was knocked into someones yard and pieces of his trailer were scattered all over the place.
     The driver of the other truck lost his left front wheel complete with ball joints but that didn't stop him, his truck was balanced on three wheels as he drove home without stopping. The police found him trying to figure out how he was going to put his spare tire on. Turns out the guy had left church high on painkillers.
     Yep, that was one hell of a fishing trip.


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     I am not big on technology, only over the last few years have I gotten my feet wet with a computer, I am still confronted daily with things that boggle my mind. It never ceases to amaze me how much people have come to depend on the constantly changing technology that the world seems to depend on.
     Rick had a depth / fish finder on his boat that was equipped with GPS, the location of every fish he had caught since he had bought the boat was marked on the system and cataloged with a name for each location - one even bears my name. Rick is one of those people highly dependent on technology, he had the latest cell phone and computer and a GPS in his vehicles as well as his boat.
     When we were on the Katrina trip Chris had given Rick the coordinates for Grand Isle so we could find our way back there later on. I had watched when we went to Grand Isle early that morning, it seemed pretty simple to me, go down the channel to the green marker number 34 then turn south west, after a while you will see a water tower on the horizon, Grand Isle is to the left but this just makes me old school.
     That Saturday afternoon when we left Grand Isle heading back to Jean Lafitte was rough, the waves were running a good two to three feet and bouncing us around real good. Katrina was still some ways off but she was already raising hell. All of a sudden Rick stopped the boat and started fiddling with the GPS, seems it had gone out  from the rough ride. Rick was frantic as he tried to bring the system back on line, he said if he didn't bring the GPS back up then we were lost. I told him all we had to do was keep going in a northwesterly direction until we hit the marked channel then turn north. He finally fixed the problem and we took off, once we hit the channel and turned north he said it was lucky he got the GPS working, he said he didn't know how people found their way around before GPS.
     I told Rick that not too long ago mariners used compasses and charts, worse case they paid attention to landmarks such as trees on the shore line, rocks sticking out of the water or  shapes on the horizon and at night they traveled by the stars. Did us old school folks get lost from time to time, well yes but when we did but we didn't tell anyone we just called it exploring new territories



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    When my boat was repaired and ready to pick up I got a guy I worked with, named Terry, to go with me to get it. Of course as long as we were going to be in the area it would be ashamed to not wet a line so after picking up the boat and settling in to our room we launched the boat and went looking for redfish. Well we didn't find any fish so we went back to our room and met up with a guide who told us the wind had been blowing from the north for several weeks and blew a foot of water back into the gulf along with all of the redfish but we could follow them to a good trout hole the next morning if we wanted.
     The next morning we got up and slowly cruised down the channel as we pondered our problem. My thought was, if the wind blew the fish and water south the we needed to go south to find the fish so off we went. About fifteen miles down the channel we found a grass island that looked good so we checked it out. At first the fishing was slow but then it picked up as we went farther into the group of grass islands. There were redfish every where, they were feeding against the banks with half their backs out of the water, there were groups of three, four, or five and they were hungry.
     By lunch time we had caught somewhere around thirty fish between us, each of them were at least six plus pounds. Terry was fishing from the back of the boat when I heard the drag on his reel going crazy, I looked back and saw him holding his rod up high and reeling like crazy. I watched Terry as he fought what he said was the biggie. The water in the grass islands was at most about eighteen inches deep so the fish could not go deep he had to go out and he was big enough that you could follow his path by the disturbed water. Twice the fish pulled out all but a few feet of line from his reel forcing me to chase the fish down with the trolling motor. When Terry finally got the fish to the boat we saw it was a Bull Red about thirty pounds.
     We had two and a half good days of fishing and we spent them at the same group of grass islands. We lost count but figured we caught over one hundred redfish  but by the time we got to work on Monday morning the total rose somewhat due to "fisherman's prerogative".