Boogs Bear

                                                             Boogs Bear






     When the boys were still babies and for no reason other than it was a cute idea, Linda and I gave the boys nicknames and rather than call them by their given name we called them by the special moniker we bestowed on them. Never once did we imagine the names would stick and long term repercussions were never a consideration.
      Being the first born, Danny was given what I thought was a classy name mostly because I was the one who decided what to call him, although Danny was and is a perfectly good name for a boy I felt he needed something more fitting of his nature. Linda was concerned that I would call him by the traditional southern name of " Bubba ", now as far as I know there has never been a Bubba in the family and I honestly hope there never will be. After thinking long and hard and watching his demeanor for signs of greatness I started calling him "Hotshot", this was a name that fit, it was a name that would follow him into manhood and beyond but more importantly it was agreeable to Linda, there fore he has since been known to family and a few friends as Hotshot. This many years later I will occasionally blurt out "Hotshot" without thinking while talking to him but I don't think he minds.
     When Clay came along I quickly realized that he stole Linda's heart in many ways,mostly because he was her baby - the youngest and last of her brood. While we both had always promised to never show favoritism it was hard for Linda not to as mothers and the baby of the family have a special bond and Clay was the baby.
     Linda had a habit of singing, for her it was a means of coping with life, she sang when she was happy and she sang when she was sad. She sang quite often and she knew the words to hundreds of songs which she sang beautifully but every now and then she would make up her own words. It was while she was making up words one day that she settled on a nickname for Clay and from then on he was referred to as her "Boogs Bear". I never did know what a Boogs Bear was and have doubts that she did but Boogs Bear stuck.
     Clay never seemed to mind his nickname and it was not long before every one knew of it and the women especially would pick him up, pinch his cheeks and call him Boogs Bear. One day while watching the two boys I screwed up and called Clay - Hotshot - which of course was Danny's nickname, Clay quickly corrected me saying " I'm not Hotshot Dad, Danny is Hotshot, I'm Boogs Bear ". Clay's nickname was not one that followed him around all that long, I mean what self respecting young boy wanted to be called Boogs Bear once he started school. It wasn't long before only Linda and Eileen would call him by his nickname.
     As I said earlier Clay always held a special place in Linda's heart and during her final days she talked about her concerns for him and how she wished for him to be happy and have someone to love. Knowing that Clay and Maggie were together as a couple and would some day marry I assured her that she need not worry about Clay, he would be alright.
     Last Saturday - October 1, 2016 - I along with family and friends watched with pride as Clay and Maggie held hands and repeated the words of their wedding vows to one another. It was a beautiful wedding that was held at a cabin in the Blue Ridge mountains of Georgia, everything went off without too much of a hitch.
     As I watched them, a lifetime of memories flooded my heart, as I slowly wiped away tears that crept down my cheeks I could see Clay as Linda held him in her arms and smiled as she called him her Boogs Bear. I was sad but happy at the same time.
     I remarried a few months ago, Kay is a wonderful woman and we are a good fit. One of the areas we have yet to come together on is religion, I never was much for religion and have doubts about what or who to believe in. Kay on the other hand is a professed born again Baptist. We have had a few discussions about the subject and I understand that she tells people I am her work in progress, who knows one day she may bring me into the fold - she does say that God works in strange ways.
     One thing that I like to think may be true is that Linda, like Kay's husband Wayne, is in a better place and is watching over us. I like to believe that Linda was there watching as her Boogs Bear got married, I know she would be smiling and happy for him.
   
   

And Don't Forget Boone

                                             And Don't Forget Boone




     Getting married again has brought on a whole new set of issues to make one think. For instance, when getting married a second time around to someone who also is marring for the second time means that you most likely will inherit some more baggage - hopefully all good.
     Combining two households can be exciting to say the least. It took four days to go thru two storage sheds and we now have a combined five spade tip shovels, three post hole diggers, five ladders of various lengths, two riding lawn mowers, one push mower, two weed eaters and a chain saw. The kitchen has us bulging with enough Tupperware for our own Tupperware party not to mention four set of china, three sets of silverware and enough assorted pots and pans to open a restaurant.
     When I married Kay not only did my family increase so did my base of friends - any friend of Kay's is now a friend of mine and boy does she have a lot of friends. Kay was born and raised in the Gainesville, Ga. area and later moved to Oconee county where she has been living for about 35 yrs. and where she met and married her husband Wayne Bullock who was a native of Oconee county.
     Let's start out with where she worked in the finance office for the county,there has to be at least 25 - 30 people who have known her for about 15 years and they all call her a good friend. Then there was the distant relative working at Lowe's and another friend who checked us out, while walking at the mall we were hailed by a lady she knew but hadn't seen in some time. Then there were the neighbors and the real estate agent who is selling her house and her daughter's friend and mother who happened to stop by one day. I jokingly asked if there was some place we could go in Oconee county that she didn't know someone, turns out she would have a problem of not running across someone in four surrounding counties. Did I mention that she knows the lady who takes your money at the landfill ?  Oh and the gang she has dinner with the first Monday of the month. I lost count somewhere around 45 - 50.
     Now as for family I gained three brothers - Doug, Bob and Rick, two of them are now my little brothers and I now have the older brother I always wanted if I can only remember which one he is, I know it's either Bob or Rick. They tried to scare me off the first time we met but with Kay by my side I feared not. I am working on their wives names and hope to have them in the proper sequence soon.
      I have met one niece and four of her seven kids, nice family and understand there are more nieces / nephews still out there. I even met Wayne's uncle Mont who owns the property next door, I liked him.
     I also gained a daughter, Katie, actually I am her step father and proud of it, she is beautiful and has a wonderful family. I guess this makes her husband Nathan my step son-in-law. Katie and Nathan have a son Benjamin who is 4 1/2 and a daughter Abigail 20 months, they know me as "Mr. Mike" and to avoid any confusion on their part I will proudly wear the name. Once you get to know her Abigail gives great hugs and kisses.
     According to Facebook there is a whole host of friends, relations and friends of relations yet to meet, with my on coming bout with dementia which may strike at any moment I am going to be in serious trouble, I'll probably be better off if Kay would draw me a family tree.
     What it all boils down to is that I am happy to be a part of Kay's life which includes her family and host of friends, whether I am an in-law, friend, step dad or uncle or just plain"Mr. Mike".

     Oh, don't forget Boone a black and tan coon hound who snores in his sleep and likes peanut butter, he is my new step dog. .
   

One More Time

                                                            One More Time


     In the last months before passing, Linda told me that I should find a new wife, specifically one who liked to fish. I couldn't, at that time, imagine life without Linda and having been married to her for forty seven years I was sort of spoiled and doubted that there may be someone else I would want beside me.
     The first few months after she passed were the most difficult of my life, I was alright during the daytime when I could mingle with people then the darkness fell and I had to come home to a house filled with the silence and memories of a life that no longer existed.
     After a few months I realized that I was going to need help to get thru this next phase so I started seeing a therapist who guided me thru the darkness, she in turn placed me with a group of people who were walking down the same path. We as a group soon found that by sharing our stories of grief with each other we were in effect helping each other to heal our broken hearts. The group session was intense and short lived, after nine weeks we had learned how to live with our feelings but more importantly we realized that we wanted to remain together as a group, we had become very close with each other and now thought of ourselves as a family.
     We decided to continue with our own form of therapy so we set aside the first Tuesday of each month as a time when we would gather for lunch. There were nine of us to start, two men and seven women ranging in age from somewhere in the late eighties down to the early sixties. We have been meeting like this for just over a year now, one lady has dropped out but the rest of us have found that we do not want to miss a luncheon.
     One of the ladies, by the name of Kay, was the appointed reservationist, she would make all the reservations with the restaurant and e-mail us as to the time and date. Having not heard from Kay about an upcoming date I called her one night, we talked for sometime and I told her I needed a friend, we made plans to go to dinner a few days later. Each of us made it clear that we were not looking for romance, we were still mourning the loss of our spouses, the pain was still fresh in our minds, we both felt that we had already been in love with the best person in the world so there could be no one else for us. What we needed was someone to talk to of the opposite sex as each of us had for years been able sit down and talk with our spouses about anything. Now we were missing that voice opposite of ours, Kay had girl friends and I had guy friends but neither of us had friends of the opposite sex and it was something we were missing, I can't explain it any better.
     We went to dinner and as we ate we talked, when the waitress started giving us strange looks we left and went to visit a Veterans Memorial Park nearby where we sat watching the lightning flashes in the distant clouds, we talked for hours and parted company about one in the morning. Our friendship continued and over the next months we went on day trips together, sometimes just us and other times with another couple from the group. We had dinners together and watched movies and we talked for hours on end, our talks would at times invoke strong memories that would make us tear up and even cry, then we comforted each other.
     One night, after almost six months, we were driving home from visiting another couple from the group. Kay was holding my hand as I drove and I felt that we were evolving as a couple and this was a little scary for me,I asked her if she too thought we were moving to the next level. The thing that scared me most about falling in love with Kay was that I was older than she by several years therefore I would probably be the first to die and then she would have to relive the last couple of years all over again, I didn't want to be the one to break her heart for a second time. A few days later we had dinner and we talked about the future, we discovered that we needed each other, we looked forward with anticipation to our next date and didn't want to part at the end of the night. My fears were still there but Kay made me realize that life is uncertain and anything can happen. Kay retired from her job in January and things started getting more serious, at first we talked about moving in together, selling houses. It wasn't long until we talked of getting married.
     After we talked with our respective families telling them how we felt and what we were going to do we got a license and stood before a judge,who was a friend of Kay's, and said our vows on April 18, 2016. Kay Kiser Bullock now walks beside me as Mrs. Michael Riggan.
     There are times when we can still break down and cry about the love we had and lost, these feelings may never go away. Kay can not replace Linda and I can not replace her husband Wayne, neither of us wants that, we do want to live and love again and I think Linda and Wayne would be OK with that. I will always love and miss Linda just as Kay will always love and miss Wayne, they are a part of us forever.
     Linda told me in her last months that one of the reasons she married me was that I told her I only wanted to marry once, a lovely thought but not completely practical as life has a way of screwing things up. Turns out she knew me better than I thought, I need someone to love and take care of and someone to love and take care of me. Kay is that person and together we will make more memories for another lifetime while holding on to the memories of the past.

   
   
   

The Voice Of An Angel

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                                The Voice Of An Angel




     There have been people who claim to have heard the Angels sing and what a beautiful sound they made. I can't tell you that I have heard Angels sing but I can say that I have heard the voice of an Angel.
     Everyday for forty seven years I listened as Linda sang her songs and she knew a lot of  them. She sang along with the radio, she sang along with the CD's as she sewed, she sang as she sat on the back deck watching the birds and squirrels play. Linda was always singing and if she couldn't remember the words she would make them up but the important thing was that she had the voice to carry the tune - the voice of an Angel.
     When we first met, Linda was just seventeen, the Beatles, Elvis, the Mamma's and Pappa's , Simon and Garfunkel and many other great groups were constantly on the radio with their latest hit song and every teenage girl knew the words to all of them, Linda was no exception. As it turns out she came from a musical family, her mother played the guitar by ear as did her sister Eileen, she had several aunts and uncles - on her mothers side - who also played musical instruments and sang. Her mother once played on the radio in upstate New York with her two sisters when they were teens. Linda for some reason was the odd man out as she didn't play an instrument but she could read music which was something that her mother and Eileen couldn't do and she could sing. Years later I paid for her to take lessons on the guitar and she did OK but for some reason her heart was never in it, I think in part she never felt she would be as good as Eileen but she tried until kids started coming along.
     When ever she got together with her Mom and Eileen, the guitars would come out and the singing would commence, Mom would last till about 11:00 pm, I would make it till maybe 2:00 am but Linda and Eileen would go all night. Eileen had a beautiful voice in her own right and when coupled with Linda's the harmony was as good or even better than what was on the radio. The few songs they couldn't remember were written down in a note book that was laid out in front of them as they sat cross legged in the floor singing, giggling and laughing. Many years later Eileen made a cassette tape for her, it had all of the songs they would sing together, she would play the cassette over and over singing along with Eileen for hours. Sadly the cassette or the player wore out and has been lost.
     It seemed that for many years the music didn't change all that much, bands broke apart, new bands came about but the music of our youth seemed to grow along with us and there were the musicals like the Sound of Music and Mary Poppins. The music we grew up with became known as the "OLDIES " and everywhere we went we could find an Oldies station. I can't tell you when but I think it was sometime in the late 90"s that the local oldies station would only play the top 40 tunes, it was about that time that Linda started listening to Country music.
     Country music tells a story, it can make you laugh or cry, clap your hands and tap your feet to the rhythm, it is the mother of all music, I think it reminded her of the songs her mother used to sing. Country music was from a time long forgotten, it was her break from reality, a part of the beauty of her life. Every day she would sing sometimes to the artist on the radio or CD, sometimes to herself from memory, she didn't need a TV to occupy her mind, her music was already there.
      Linda prized the vocal ability of the artist almost as much as the songs they sang, Julie Andrews and Dolly Parton were two of her favorites. One of Linda's favorite country artist was Garth Brooks, I recently heard him on the radio singing " If Tomorrow Never Comes ", the rest of the lyrics go " will she know how much I loved her ". I had heard the song many times before but I never really listened to it, now that I have, it makes me glad of all the times I told her how much I loved her and of all the times I held her tight and kissed her, I can only hope it was enough.
     No, I never heard the Angels sing but once upon a time my world resonated with the voice of an Angel, now I listen to the radio in the truck as I drive around knowing that this is as good as it will ever be again, and I am sad.
     

   

A Question Of Why

                                  A Question Of Why





     The brain of a young child develops by watching and listening to the world around them, then as they learn to vocalize they ask questions and as any parent can tell you their questions can sometimes drive you nuts especially when the answer you give them prompts them to come back with that annoying question " WHY ", it makes no difference how you answer the " why " question as nine out of ten times they will come back with another " why ". Questions like these give a whole new meaning to the word - infinity, answering the question "why is the sky blue" could generate at least a dozen "why's" and take hours to answer.
     The word "why" is somewhat of an enigma, according to Websters dictionary it is a multi use word that can be used as a noun, adverb, conjunction, an interjection and if you add an "s" to the end it becomes plural. It can express sorrow, excitement, laughter and fear, it can cast doubt and guide one down the right path. For the moment I can't think of another word that has such a wide range, my learned sister Vickie probably can. But let's look at this another way, just because we grow into adulthood does not mean that we no longer seek knowledge nor do we no longer question the status quo, nay the search continues. Even from the depths of old and decrepit brain cells a question mark can still arise, just not as often.  Maybe because by a certain age we have more time on our hands to ponder the little nuances that have troubled our thoughts for years that we attempt to solve the woe's of the world, and "why" not, it may be our last chance for greatness.
     Take for example something that has troubled me since learning to spell in grade school. The word Wednesday, this word represents the middle day of the week and to my knowledge has no other meaning but I want to know "why" there are two " d's " in the spelling when everybody pronounces the word " Wensday " with one "d" . I can't tell you how many times I have misspelled this word, I even looked at my calendar prior to this writing just to be sure I was getting it right. Words with silent letters have always confused me as my mind keeps asking if that letter is silent "why" then is it there at all, the answer I give my mind is "why, how should I know", nobody else seems to know "why" either, I have asked.  Fortunately this newest generation doesn't have to worry about spelling, they just have to know where the spell check button is although if you follow social media it is obvious some people have yet to find the spell check button.
      Us old folks already know all the answers so we don't ask "why" too often and when we do we are skeptical about the answer we are given. Our memory, which at times trails behind us like a long shadow, doesn't always correspond with the information given to us so we like to mull things over for a while  so we don't come off as some senile old person with drool running down our cheek. So here I am an old fart with time on my hands to ponder the little mysteries of life and ask " why " along the way. Truth be known I really don't care what the answer might be as I am too old to worry about being right or wrong but when you have time on your hands you have to think about something. Then again if enough thought is put into the right pondering I might just have my 15 minutes of fame, if I come up with an answer the world has been waiting for.
     One such thought provoking subject is water, I have heard about the world wide water shortage for years and how it will eventually be a bigger concern than the oil shortage. Now standing on the banks of a river watching water flow by knowing that it's destination is the ocean makes me scratch my head especially when it is the mighty Mississippi River who's banks I have stood on, millions of gallons flow by in the time it takes to blow your nose. This is a moment when I brainstorm and think about the Alaskan pipe line which pumps crude oil from the north slopes over mountain ranges to the gulf of Alaska and then down here in the lower 48 we buried pipe lines to pump gas all over the country. Seem to me the answer is obvious " why " can't we build a pipeline to carry water from the Mississippi River to say Phoenix, AZ.or for that matter pump water from the Nile River into the deep Saharan Desert, "why" let it pour into the ocean. There we go problem solved and it didn't take a rocket scientist - not bad for an old guy.
     The next thought provoking subject is - neckties. Many years ago Linda and I worked for banks, the jobs didn't pay all that much but there was a lot of prestige in working for a bank, any way Linda would go to work nicely dressed in a skirt, blouse and matching jacket all of which was very comfortable as well as pleasing to the eye. I on the other hand had to wear a suit and tie, often with a vest, a combination known as a three piece suit. The suits were usually dark colored with white shirts - bankers never wore colored shirts - the only piece that really stood out was the neck tie but they too  had to be reserved and appropriate for banking.  I can't complain about the dress code because I did look very handsome, if I do say so myself, but the thing that bothered me and many others like me was the need to wear a neck tie at all. It was difficult to get a shirt that fit correctly around the neck - usually to tight - and then have to tie a strip of cloth around your neck and cinch it tight, I felt sorry for those guys with large Adams Apples. Neck ties were uncomfortable, they were always in the way and when eating usually wound up speckled with bits of the meal. So I ask you, "why" would a man in his right mind want to truss himself up in a three piece suit and neck tie every day ? You know it is rumored that the neck tie was invented by a woman with a strong desire to choke the living daylights out of her husband or maybe it was her boyfriend or both.
     So now comes the question of  "why" are neck ties necessary other than prestige and good looks. I would think that men would definitely be more comfortable and the appearance of success and prestige could more confidently be expressed by a man dressed in slacks, an opened collared shirt and tweed sport coat. Add a Florida tan and a couple of gold chains around his neck and you have a banker though some may refer to him as a shyster - same difference.
     One thing I have come to realize since I have become a senior citizen is that time does not pass at the same rate of speed as it did when I was a kid, seems that as I got older and slower father time kicked things into a higher gear. Remember being a kid waiting for Christmas to come around and it did ever so slowly. Forget the fact that it only came once a year, those first eleven months flew by in comparison to the last twenty five days filled with excruciating hours of having to be good all the time. As I write this, Christmas is only eight days away and I am still not ready for it, it gets here too quickly now days.
      "Why" does time pass differently for the young than it does for the elderly ? I distinctly remember when I was young, I couldn't wait to be older so I could do all the things I wanted without having to ask permission or have to be home by a certain time. No matter how hard I tried it took a long time for those first eighteen years to pass. Now I am pushing seventy and there aren't enough hours in the day to do everything I want to do, seems like I no sooner get out of bed and it's time to get back in it. "Why" it was only six years ago that I retired and three years ago that I became a Grandpa,  in my mind those days were yesterday. So much has happened in such a short amount of time that I want to plug the hole in the hour glass to slow the sands, I want to enjoy the fruits of my life but the time seems to pass too quickly.
      Now I am asking myself  "why" am I not spending more time with the Grand Kids or "why" am I not on the lake fishing. After all I am getting to old to be worrying about things that have never changed and most likely never will, let the next generation scratch their head and ask "why" and when Michaela  or Matthew ask why the sky is blue I'm going to send them to Mom or Dad and maybe, just maybe, they will be the ones that turn the world around - "why" not ?
   
   
   
   

Master of Arts

                                                 Master Of Arts



     I sit alone in the house I once shared with Linda, I look around and see her in everything around me. Every wall, every shelf, where ever there is a space to put something there is something that Linda made with a needle and thread or piece of cloth and even a few things of ceramic.
     Linda first learned to sew in a high school home economics class and later when she stayed with my parents, while I was in Vietnam, my mother introduced her to other forms of needlework such as crochet and knitting. Somewhere along the way Linda picked up embroidery, counter cross stitch, quilting and anything else that could be done with a needle and thread. Over the years she tried them all and was very successful at most of them with the exception of knitting.
     I don't know why knitting was not to her liking but it wasn't, the only thing she ever knitted was a turtleneck sweater for me, she worked on it for quite sometime  but it just didn't turn out the way she had hoped. I thought the sweater was beautiful, it was a nice maroon color and it was warm, it was also big enough that both of us could fit into it at the same time which did not bother me as I liked Linda close to me. Linda wanted to rip the sweater apart and start over but I talked her out of it and wore it as it was, I was proud of it and loved it and it was very warm.
     Linda's skill with needle and thread developed quickly and she became a master at her craft, all of her work was not only beautiful, it was perfect. Back in the early 1970's we bought an older home for our first house and one Christmas I bought her a needle point kit titled " The Four Seasons ". It was something she had been wanting for sometime but it cost $50 which was a lot of money back then. The kit when completed would be a picture 32" x 25" and take her several years to complete, the completion time was not due to the size of the project but rather the care which Linda put into it. One night I walked in and she was pulling out all of the thread from the work she had completed which consisted of about 1/3 of the project. When I asked why she showed me where the threads were not consistent  so the nap was uneven, she did this several times after that but to look at the finished work you will know her persistence was worthwhile. It has been several years since I have seen the kit advertised, the last time it was valued at more than $400 as a kit, to me the finished work is priceless. This particular piece of art occupies a wall in the bedroom and when I am gone it will be passed down to one of the Grand kids who will hopefully recognize it's value as an heirloom and pass it along to future generations.
     Over the next few years, between raising two boys and putting up with me dragging her and them all across the country and back, she worked on many projects but seemed to narrow them down to quilting and crocheting.
     Not long after returning to Georgia Linda met up with a lady who made ceramic dolls that ranged in size from a couple of inches high to several inches high, they had one problem, they were naked and needed clothes desperately. Diane Waring was the lady who made the dolls, Linda would create, by trial and error, a pattern for each doll then crochet dresses, pants, shirts and accessories for them. Linda and Diane bonded and one of the most beautiful friendships developed between them, it lasted for at least 20 yrs. until Linda's death.
     In celebration of our 25th anniversary we left the kids behind and took a trip to Gatlinburg, Tn., we stopped at a small welcome center in the Georgia mountains area and looked around. I found an older lady siting in a corner cutting octagon shapes from stiff paper, she had a couple hundred stacked up so I asked what she was doing. The lady explained that this was an old English method of quilting rarely practiced anymore, I found Linda and got her to talking to the lady, which wasn't difficult, and as we drove off the wheels started turning in her head. Not long after we returned from Gatlinburg Linda started piling up a collection of octagon shaped pieces of stiff paper and fretting over the correct design she intended to produce.
     When she started this project we had a king size waterbed, this was another one of those projects that took awhile to complete but the day did finally come around. I was there when Linda took the massive quilt and spread it out on the waterbed and I watched as her shoulders slumped upon realizing she made a slight error. The quilt when spread out on the waterbed also piled up on the floor around the bed, this was just a slight miscalculation which only took a few more months to fix.
     The quilt turned out beautiful and a great conversation piece, it now adorns Danny and Marie's bed, I hope that they will take care of it so that maybe one day it too will become an heirloom to be passed down thru generations.
     While living in California, Linda crocheted for an organization that needed baby booties and hats, they used these items as gifts to encourage young unwed and often unemployed pregnant girls to keep their doctors appointments. She made hundreds of pairs of booties and hats from scrap yarn, she never charged them for her time or materials.
      Not long after moving into this house she hooked up with a lady named Fran who worked with an organization called " Newborns In Need ", they crocheted baby blankets and hats for premature babies, small oranges and golf balls were used to size the hats. I can't tell you how many blankets she made over the last few years, I do know that in the last year of her life she made in the neighborhood of 150 blankets. She used store coupons, loose change and even had me collecting aluminum cans to pay for the yarn.
     In addition to working on the above projects, she worked on other things such as baby blankets which she sold to people who gave them as gifts, some were given freely to friends for their newborns. She made trinkets such as her wonder wallet, Barbie doll clothes and dresses for other brands of dolls and sold them at craft shows, the proceeds went to tuition for Danny and Clay.
     Once in California another mother who was a Cub Scout den mother with Linda was dying of cancer and wanted to go to Salt Lake City to see her sister one more time. Linda and another den mother worked tirelessly for several weeks prior to Easter making crochet Easter Bunny baskets from plastic milk jugs and then sold them in front of the local grocery store to raise funds for a plane ticket. They bought the ticket and had enough left over to insure a happy Easter for the lady's kids and husband and give them $200 cash for whatever they needed.
     These projects were close to her heart and she did them with love and as with everything else they were beautiful, not a stitch was out of place, they were perfect. Countless strangers have benefited from her artistry, children across the country born in less than ideal situations and conditions were warmed by her works of art made with love.
      Now I look around and see the things she made to brighten her own world, the quilts, wall hangings, afghans, table cloths and pillow cases, the list seems endless. She would spend countless hours sitting on the back deck or the couch in front of the TV even riding in the truck as I drove  on a long trip, she paid attention only to the piece she had in her hand, to her it wasn't work it was enjoyment, an act of love. For someone who could not see her own beauty she left the world a more beautiful place in her deeds and her art and in that she was a master.

   

Going To The Dogs

 

                        Going To The Dogs

                                

     I grew up having dogs around the house, don't ask me why we had dogs or pets at all, with five kids to feed a pet seemed like a big expense although back then we pretty much fed them table scraps and seldom took them to a vet. I don't remember that any of us kids thought much of the dogs, they were full of fleas, matted fur and sometimes didn't smell to good, just the same they were a part of the family. I remember there were Beagles and Cocker Spaniels and Grandpa Riggan had a Collie named Shep.
     Then I met Linda, fell in love and married her but not until we got a few things straightened out about our future. You see, Linda was an animal lover and had there been prenuptials  back in 1967  I would have been contractually bound to always have a pet, more specifically a dog, as part of the family and should a divorce ever occur she would have gotten sole custody. As things turned out I liked dogs, they could be a pain in the butt but it did feel good to have a warm wet nose snuggle against your hand as you watched TV which was better than Linda's cold feet in the small of your back in the middle of the night - foot warming was another contractual item.
     Our first dog was named " Bo ", he was a beautiful half Boxer and half German Shepard and he belonged to an aging first class Boatswain Mate I worked with hence the name Bo. Bo was smart and learned quickly, we took him with us when Linda went to stay with my family while I went to Vietnam. Dad was over having dogs by this time but for his only daughter-in-law he made an exception and welcomed Bo into the family and provided him with one of his beloved Navy blankets from WWII to sleep on in the garage. When I returned from my first trip to Vietnam we couldn't take Bo with us to San Diego so we left him behind. Bo was given to a local farmer who allowed him to run free rather than stay chained to a dog house, by the time we came home for good someone had stolen Bo from the farmer.
     While stationed in San Diego the second time we were given a small white terrier who turned out to be vindictive whenever left alone or ignored and after finding several articles of clothing, a blanket and several bags of garbage shredded all over the floor he was out of there real quick, so quick that I can't even remember his name.
     Now we get back to Tennessee and start life anew. My cousin Jackie called one night and told Linda that a friend of hers had a dog who had given birth to a small brood of which there were three available for the taking. The dogs were Poodle and Cocker Spaniel ( Cockerpoo ) and black as the ace of spades. Jackie took the lone female pup, Linda and I took one of the males and lo and behold my Dad took the other. We named ours Snoopy and Dad named theirs Ralf.
      We had to keep Snoopy chained to a dog house for a few months and during this time Linda's sister Eileen came to live with us and acquired a cat from my friend Donnie Odum. Linda couldn't stand the cat as it was sneaky and would rip a loaf of bread to shreds just for the hell of it so it wasn't long til the cat became an outside pet. It was cold that winter and I wondered where the cat went to keep warm over night, then one morning as I looked out a window I saw Snoopy come out of his house and stretch in the sun light, the cat followed a few moments later and sat next to the dog licking at it's paw. We found the cat dead in some bushes a few weeks later. Snoopy went with us to our old new home we bought, it had a nice yard with a fence and everything was great for a while til one day Snoopy was hit by a car while crossing the street in front of the house, he died as I tried to comfort him.
     We next wound up with Ralf, I think Dad felt sorry for Linda. Ralf quickly fit in with us and gave us much joy. One morning Linda suddenly started accusing me of kicking the covers off the bed at night  and she would wake up cold and have to retrieve them from the floor, being the sound sleeper that I was I had no defense. Turns out it was not me kicking the covers off of the bed, one sleepless night I felt the blanket slip down to the foot of the bed a little bit at a time then a little bit more, I woke Linda and told her quietly to watch as the cover slid towards the foot of the bed all by itself. We crawled down to the foot of the bed and watched as Ralf, who was laying on the floor, reached up and grabbed a mouthful of blanket and pulled it down on top of him.  Another time I came home and went downstairs for a cold drink we kept in the basement refrigerator, as I walked down the steps something crunched under my feet, under close inspection the crunches appeared to be small bits of red glass. All became clear later as I watched TV and Ralf wanted to play but I ignored him so he walked over to the Christmas tree and grabbed a red glass ornament from a low hanging branch then carried it over to the top of the stairs and tossed it into the air. Ralf stood there looking confused as the ball didn't bounce like the one I threw down the steps for him to fetch - mystery solved, Ralf had evidently found a way to amuse himself while we were at work.
     Like his brother Ralf died after being hit by a car.
     Next came a golden Cocker Spaniel with a pedigree so she was given a pedigree name - " Linda's Lady Ginger ", we called her Ginger and she never left Linda's side. When Ginger came into heat we bred her with another purebred, she had seven pups but not without some difficulty. She had two pups and then we had to take her to the vet where she had another, he gave her a shot to induce labor on the three he said were still inside her, on the way home Ginger gave birth to another pup in the front seat of the car. The vet told us to give her ice cream to calm her down, while lapping up the ice cream she dropped another pup but ignored it and kept eating, then Linda went up the steps to get towels to clean up the mess - Ginger followed her and dropped the final two pups on the way to the kitchen.
     Turns out Ginger was dumb and cuddly just the way Linda like them, we had her for several years  and shortly after Clay was born I was transferred to the west coast from Florida and we couldn't take her. I know it broke Linda's heart to have to take her to the pound.
     It was several years later when Danny was starting school that they decided we needed a dog so we got a Schnauzer, because of his coloring we called him Pepper. I can't say I knew Pepper that well as I traveled quite a bit back then, I do remember that he was a feisty little dog and would snap at you when irritated. Pepper came back to Georgia with us  but it seems as though everybody lost interest in him and he wound up in a pen in the back yard, it was still up to the kids to feed him - a chore which they had to be reminded often. One day Danny brought him up to the house for some reason and left him tied to the garage door, I climbed into my truck to go somewhere not realizing Pepper was under the truck and I ran over him, the vet couldn't save him. This was the time where I put my foot down and said no more.
     It was several years later when Danny and his first wife were living in the basement that they asked me if they could get a dog, I should have known better but I said sure as long as I was not going to take care of it. They got a rescue black Lab pup that was full of energy, they called him Bailey.Fortunately they moved into their own place and Bailey went with them.
     A couple of years after the kids moved out I brought home a parrot, more precisely a Sun Conyers from South America. While at work one night I was called over to the office area where several people were watching this bright orange and yellow bird walk around looking for food. He didn't seem to be afraid of us so I put my hand down and the bird walked up my arm and sat on my shoulder, I put him in a box and brought him home to Linda. It was three in the morning when I got home, I woke Linda and told her to come meet her new friend. The bird was still in the box on the floor, Linda opened it up and the bird cocked his head and looked up at her, when she placed her hand into the box the bird climbed up her arm and lost himself in her hair where he stayed the rest of the night. He was about twice the size of a canary and because of his coloration Linda named him Mango, she went out the next day and spent two hundred dollars on a cage and other bird paraphernalia.
     The kids were gone and I worked long weird hours and even when I was home I was was not really there if you know what I mean so Mango filled that void for Linda. Most of the time Mango had freedom of the house and wherever Linda went Mango went. I quickly found out I needed to close the door while shaving as Mango liked the taste of shaving cream and would sit on my shoulder eating mouthfuls as I shaved. Linda also found out she needed to close the door when taking a shower, Mango would fly into the shower landing at her feet and start bathing himself.  Linda sat on the couch in front of the picture window as she crocheted, Mango would fly down to the floor and walk over to the ball of yarn at her feet, after unraveling some of the yarn he would make his way to her foot and start climbing up to her shoulder where he would preen her hair or bite her shirt. She had several shirts that were her Mango shirts, they had holes in them where he had chewed thru with his sharp beak.
     Mango had one major flaw, he was LOUD, I'm telling you this bird screeched so loudly that neighbors  two doors down the street wondered what that noise was- and we kept the house closed up. His minor flaw was that he didn't like most other women and would attack them.
     When we moved to this house Mango stayed with Clay and when Linda brought him home he took sick and died, Linda was devastated.
     Not long after Mango died Linda came to me and wanted another dog, I was still working long hours and she needed the companionship. As much as I understood her needs I tried to talk her out of another dog, I had buried too many of them already. It didn't take her long to wear me down as truth be known I could never really say no to Linda, soon enough she was looking on the computer for a new face to love.
     Lizzy is a rescue dog, she was about a year old when we got her, she is part Lab and part Cocker Spaniel with long black hair and I swear she has the longest tongue I have ever seen, she is also known as Licking Lizzy as she licks at everybody who comes to visit. Although we only paid $50.00 for her she cost us just over $3000.00 because we had to install a fence and lay down sod in the back yard.  Given the opportunity she will escape her confines and go for a run, all of the calling will not stop her and when you get close she will just look at you and take off again, to catch her you have to get in the car find her and open the door she will come running as she loves to ride.
     Lizzy is definitely not the sharpest thorn in the brier patch, she will chase a thrown ball but only bring it back halfway but she loved to crawl up next to Linda and get her ear tickled or her butt scratched.
     Linda loved Lizzy and got to the place that she didn't want to take any trips if Lizzy couldn't go, Lizzy brought great comfort to Linda in her final days and knowing that she was concerned I promised Linda that I would take care of Lizzy.
     We loved our pets, each of them brought many moments of happiness and frequently absorbed the stress of daily life often with only the act of laying their chin on your thigh and looking up at you with a sadness in their eyes that only they can express. They are memories from a life that seems so long ago.
     So, here we are just Lizzy and I, each of us a reminder to the other of how much we loved and miss Linda. Lizzy is at least ten years old and I am sixty eight, it is even money as to which one of us will out last the other although we may find out soon enough if she continues to stop in front of me in the dark making me trip over her.