The Heartbreak

 

     For two years we dreamed of a future where things would be better, for two years we lived on the hope of a life free of Drs. and hospitals. We made plans for next month and next year all the while in our hearts we knew it was futile but we had hope. Over the forty seven years we were married I had seen Linda happy, thrilled, upset and mad and now I was going to see another emotion, one that I never knew existed in her.

     When I brought her home from the hospital, in July of 2014, it was to be the last time, we both knew this but the Dr. had said months but never how many, he said this as he always said it - with an air of hope. Linda's outlook immediately grabbed hold of this hope and ran with it, she was always happy and upbeat with whoever came to see her. She craved laughter and gaiety, tears and sorrowful talk were not allowed. Friends and family came to see her, they talked of old times, they thanked her for all she had done for them - they said their goodbye's in different ways. She knew her fate but she denied it, she never gave up hope, she held her head high as she had always done. They said she was brave.

     Not long before she passed I returned from an errand one day, Linda was sitting in a chair while her friend made the bed for her. Linda was upset, she had overheard a conversation on the back deck, a statement was made " All I know is Mike said that if I wanted to say goodbye I better come soon". I had never seen Linda scared of anything but now I saw fear in her eyes. All of a sudden I was faced with the most difficult task of my life.

     I bent over and put my arms around Linda and pulled her up to me holding her close as her friend told me what had happened, her eyes were looking at me with a longing for me to make things better. Sometimes Linda had problems with depression and during those dark times I was able to pull her through but this time I just didn't know if I could. With her face buried in my shoulder, I held her tight, ran my fingers through her hair and kissed the top of her head, I told her that I didn't know how much time she had left but however much there was I was going to do my best to make that time the best that I could. Her arms squeezed me and she cried with her face on my shoulder. We stood there for a while holding each other as we had done on many occasions, I kissed her many times, told her I loved her and held her tight. I wanted to cry with her but I had decided I would not cry in front of her, she had been my rock for many years it was my turn to be her rock and I was determined not to let her down.

     By this time even I could see the end was near, the words of the Drs. and hospice nurses no longer carried an air of hope but every day we hoped for another tomorrow. 

     It wasn't long after this day that Linda passed, I have not forgotten this day and doubt I ever will. I have held off writing about this episode because it involved someone close to her, that someone passed away sometime back so they can no longer be hurt by reading this. This is a part of my memories of Linda that I can't escape from even if I wanted to, it is another memory I want to share with my children, grandchildren and future generations.

                                                                                        

 

     

Tidbits of Thoughts and Memories

 

     Grandpa Riggan was a farmer of the old school, he plowed his fields walking behind a team of mules, sowed his grains walking the plowed field and with a flip of his wrist scattered the seeds of a new crop. Small plants grown from seeds over the winter were called slips and had to be carefully planted by hand, this required him to walk bent over and individually place the slip in the ground.

     He raised pigs that were born from his sow, the pigs foraged in the pasture and woods. To keep the pigs from tearing up the fields too bad in their quest for roots he would put a ring in their nose. To do this he first lured them in to a feeding pen by putting feed in a trough. As the pigs were busy eating Grandpa would walk over and grab one by the ear and lift it up on it's hind legs, he had a special pair of pliers that held an open ring, he would quickly insert the ring into the pigs nose and squeeze the ring against the cartilage of the nose then pull the pig to the gate and push it out of the pen. This ring didn't really hurt the pig until it started rooting with his nose but you would think they had been shot from all of the squealing they were doing. 

     I would watch this process from afar because when I was barely walking I wandered out in the paddock where a sow was feeding a bunch of young piglets, I reached down to touch one and the sow bit me. More than seventy years later I still carry an inch long scar on the back of my right hand.

     Grandpa also had two cows that he milked by hand everyday. Even though the cows had been foraging on grass in the pasture all day they would return to the barn at night and walk in to their stall where Grandpa would have corn waiting in their feed troughs. While the cow ate Grandpa sat on a stool and pulled on their tits as milk streamed  in to a pail, when he was done he poured the milk into a special "milk jug" that was picked up by the local creamery for processing.

     Being an farmer of the old school was hard work, Grandpa was up before dawn feeding the live stock and after breakfast he hitched up the mules and headed out to the fields. He was lean yet muscular, he walked from the time he got out of bed till he climbed back in it. If he was lucky it would rain every now and then  giving him a day off. Regardless of the weather Sunday was his day of rest after he milked the cows and fed the livestock, it was a day when he went to church and enjoyed his family who visited every Sunday as long as he lived. I never knew him to be sick with so much as a cold, he had a double hernia and couldn't hear very well but that was it. In the end he retired in his late 70's, one day not long after retiring his heart just gave out.

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     I often find myself comparing the times I grew up in with the times I live in now, the difference is  stark in my opinion. For instance the welfare system was put in place in 1935 and it has helped many poor families but it has also been riddled with graft and corruption, it was never meant to be a way of living but there are those who thought otherwise and found way to cheat the system.

     Now I can't say that we were poor, maybe we didn't have a lot of money and for sure we weren't on welfare. Dad was the bread winner, Mom was a housewife and we five kids had to be fed everyday, had to have a roof over our heads and clean clothes on our backs and new shoes at the beginning of every school year. Dad balked at the expense of sending us to school, new shoes, new clothes ( what mom didn't sew ). School supplies consisted of writing tablets or notebook paper, pencils, erasers, crayons all the standard fare for staring school and everything we needed Dad supplied. As for lunch we had PBJ or baloney sandwiches wrapped in wax paper, a couple of cookies for desert then wrapped up in a brown paper bag. When we didn't have the makings for lunch Dad begrudgingly gave us the 25 cents to buy lunch in the school cafeteria. We had everything we needed and never went hungry.

     So fast forward to today, school systems feed kids a free lunch and sometimes a breakfast because they can't get it at home, they even continue the program in the summer months when school is out. As for school supplies the local TV stations support a program called "stuff the bus" where people are encouraged to purchase backpacks and stock them with all sorts of school supplies and after all of this teachers have to dig into their own pockets to purchase class room supplies.

     From time to time I wonder just what has changed, I understand there are less people on welfare than ever before, wages are up, jobs are plentiful so why are their so many in need ? It used to be "pride before the fall", maybe today some don't mind the fall because they have no pride ?

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     There is a poem written by a A.E. Housemen "When I was one and twenty" it's a short poem that deals with naivety of youth. Naivety of youth is something every older person sees everyday in the youth of the day that reminds them that somethings never change.

     I can honestly say that when I was one and twenty I thought I was ready to tackle life head on, there was nothing else to learn because I knew it all and there was no sense in anybody trying to tell me otherwise because I wouldn't have listened. I think this is true about most young people although there are some that are wise for their age.

     I turned 21 during my third year in the Navy, I had recently returned from my first tour in Vietnam, Linda and I had not yet been married for a year and had been separated for half of that. Three months later I would volunteer to go back to Vietnam because we couldn't afford to live in San Diego. There was a war on, I and thousands of other young people were involved in it, sadly many of them would not survive to see one and twenty even though they were as cocksure as me.

     We all make mistakes on our way through life, turning twenty one is often no help and many people don't seem to find that out till years later, looking back I can say I was a bit of a slow learner. I'm an old man now and I see young people full of spit and vinegar and I have to wonder how long it will take them to realize they're not as smart as they think.  

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     My two grandfathers were as different as night and day. Their only similarity is that they were my grandfathers. Grandpa Riggan was older than Grandpa Wade, he was also smaller in stature, Grandpa Wade was louder and more vociferous while Grandpa Riggan was quiet and laid back ( I inherited that trait ).

     Earlier today Kay and I were driving around rural Georgia and as we passed through a small town, I saw a sign advertising "live wrestling" every Friday night, the sign brought back a memory or two. Back in the early or mid fifties my uncle Sam bought a small black and white TV for Grandpa Riggan, up until then they had only heard of TV and had very little idea of all the programs available to them. Granny found the soap operas pretty quick and it wasn't long until they found live wrestling.

     Live wrestling was not new but it was new to TV and for some reason Granny and Grandpa were both hooked on live wrestling. Every Friday or maybe it was Saturday night "Live" wrestling from the Hippodrome in Nashville was shown on TV and come that night they waited impatiently till the program came on about ten o'clock at night which was way past their bedtime. Just before the fight started a couple who were friends with them would come in to watch wrestling with them. 

     This is where things got a little weird at least to a young six or seven year old grandson. Up to this point I had never seen my Grandfather upset or excited about anything, Granny was a different story but even she got excited to say the least. There I was standing beside my Grand parents when all of a sudden one of them would jump up, shake their fist at the screen and loudly yell out "hit him again" or "kick him, kick him". I think the first time I ran and hid scared to death. 

     Grandpa Wade on the other hand was a sports addict particularly for baseball and football. He was so intense at watching a ballgame on TV that he could watch it with his eyes closed, a trait that we kids quickly learned about. A Sunday visit usually found Grandpa holding court in front of the TV, telling his stories to all who cared to listen, at certain points in the story laughter would break out even from Grandpa although uncle Harold always laughed the loudest and hardest.

     When the ballgame came on brother Pat and I would watch a little and after a while Grandpa and uncle Harold would start to dose off. Once the snores became louder than the TV we would change the channel, within moments Grandpa would snap awake "who changed the channel, turn that game back on I was watching that". 

     I looked up to my Grandfathers, regardless of their stature they were both instrumental in the formation of my life. I have inherited traits from both of them, I have Grandpa Riggan's laid back personality and Grandpa Wade's gift of storytelling but when it came to TV they were giants in their own rights.

                                                         

      

Coming Home

 

     When I went to Vietnam the first time Linda and I had been married for less than a six months. She had decided to stay with my parents while I was away, staying with my family had it's ups and downs but Linda settled in to her new life. She got a job at Becker's Bakery just down the street from where Dad worked and they often rode together.

     Getting to know my siblings was ok especially getting to know Clint and Ronnie, when things got a little overwhelming they seemed to know when she needed to get away. Getting to know Vicky had it's ups and downs, I think their relationship didn't really mature until much later, Vicky was just starting into her teenage years and could be a handful at times. Mom helped Linda enhance her cooking skills and taught her a lot about sewing an art she excelled in for the rest of her life. Dad was proud of his daughter in law and took opportunities to show her off.

     All was not always cheerful and bright, Mom could be testy at times and Dad had a drinking problem. Linda wrote to me about how she would be scared of Dad's driving when he had been drinking. Being the man I was at the time I immediately fired off a letter to Dad and chewed him out for driving Linda around when he was drinking, in retrospect I should have calmed down before writing the letter but I didn't. This created some hard times for Linda.

     When I finally got back to the states I was anxious to get back home and bring Linda to California but the Navy wanted me to start six weeks of KP before going on leave. It took some arguing but I won out and got leave. During all of this I would call home and say I was getting leave then call back and say I wasn't then call back and say I was, in the mean time things were getting a little testy at home so Linda decided to take things in to her own hands.

     I finally got leave and called home to say I was on my way, Mom answered the phone and told me Linda had loaded the car and was own her way to California. Mom got on the phone with the highway patrol and they found Linda somewhere west of Nashville. The story Linda told me was that she was so upset and mad that when the trooper stopped her she rolled down the window and defiantly said "what". The trooper was understanding and gave her my flight number, she turned around and met me at the airport.

     We probably should have headed straight out for California but we went home instead, I returned to a cool reception. The next day we headed out, halfway to Memphis we heard on the radio that Dr. Martin Luther King had been killed in Memphis and riots were starting to form. We made it through Memphis an hour before the curfew started, then we headed on to Little rock where again we beat out the curfew. We didn't stop that night until somewhere in Oklahoma. 

     Day's later we arrived in California and went looking for a place to stay. We found a place and the realtor started filling out the paperwork then he asked us for a $100 for the first months rent and another $200 for deposit. We didn't have all of the money, Linda was devastated and started to cry the realtor took pity on us and let us move in with out any deposit.

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     The second time I returned from Vietnam was in the spring of 1969, Linda had gone back to Florida while I was overseas and was working for the local newspaper.

     I caught a flight from San Diego to Orlando, it was a night flight and believe it or not there were few passengers. During this time there had, for years, been several high jackings of passenger planes to Cuba. Several passengers were of obvious Spanish decent and the thought crossed my mind that I just spent seven months in Vietnam and now I could be on my way to Cuba. As it turned out we landed in Orlando with out a hitch, Linda was waiting for me and we spent the night in a local motel. A couple of days later we started our drive back to San Diego.

     Several months later I was discharged from the Navy in San Diego and was faced with a long drive back to Tennessee. Linda had been ill and had a surgical procedure she wasn't able to drive as yet. We had a 1962 Chevy which we loaded up with all our worldly possessions including a large trunk strapped to the roof.

     I had a friend from Tennessee who had broken his arm and was going home on leave, he opted to ride with us and help with the driving. Back then I was more interested in getting from point "A" to point "B" than stopping to look at anything in between, Linda on the other hand was interested in the view and the places we could see.

     Our first issue was crossing the lower Sierra mountains out of California. the climb was too much for the car and it overheated, fortunately for us a friendly state trooper came along and helped us out, overheating plagued us the entire trip. 

     When we got into Arizona Linda insisted we see the Grand Canyon so I relented and we made the detour. I planned on spending  a couple of hours but we wound up spending the whole day, after spending the night in a local motel it was a race back to Tennessee.

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     I was 18 when I went in the Navy, I was the first to leave home, my youngest sibling was my brother Ronnie he was seven when I left. Returning on leave was usually a big deal especially for Ronnie. On one of my returns from Vietnam it was quite late when Linda and I got in Mom was up and waiting for us Dad had not gotten home as yet, Ronnie had fallen asleep waiting for us. I went into Ronnie's bedroom and sat on the side of his bed and woke him up, he rubbed his eyes saw it was me then he gave me the biggest hug, that night I was a proud brother.

     There have been many homecomings over the years each with it's own joys and sorrows. Kay and I have been back several times now, it's different from years ago. Home as I remember is no longer there, my family has gotten smaller the places I remember have changed or disappeared. Time has taken it's toll or progress has moved things along - take your choice. The important thing is that even though I have a home in Georgia now Tennessee is my real home every where I have been has been an adventure in the scheme of life.

     

A Picture Is Worth A Thousand Words

 

     There is an old saying "a picture is worth a thousand words. I think the phrase really means that a picture can lead someone to write a thousand words about it. Pictures themselves don't always give you all of the information you need to realize the story that goes with it but it does give you something to spark the imagination or feed your curiosity. 

     Before photography there were artist who drew and painted what their eyes saw, their work was beautiful and fill museums around the world today and then came photography.  Photography got it's start back in the early 1800's, the cameras were large cumbersome boxes made of wood that had to be set up on a tripod, the negatives were glass plates that had to be handled with care. The person or item being photographed had to remain perfectly still for about 30 seconds and all of the pictures were black and white.

     By the time I was born anybody could be a photographer, the cameras were small hand held and contained rolls of film that were sent away to be developed after exposer. The pictures were still black and white but a professional photographer could colorize the picture after it was developed, my and my brother Pat's baby pictures were colorized in this way. Sometime around the late 50's or early 60's you could buy color rolls of film for your camera, here again there are color pictures of me as a handsome teenager, in a swimsuit no less, showing off my lean mean body.

     Now I was never a camera type of guy although I did from time to time take a few pictures, my mother was the camera person in the family and Linda took her place when we married. Between the two of them my life and that of my boys is well documented. Way back then  ( circa 1967 ) one of the big things was taking pictures after they were developed and putting them in photo albums that then accumulated on coffee tables and book shelves. Linda cherished her photo albums, for her they stored memories of the people she loved but after a while they became collectors of dust. When she passed away we had 19 albums filled with photos going back to the 1930's plus a stack of loose photos, mostly the albums held memories of our 47 year marriage.

     Technology has advanced at a rapid pace in my life time, pictures once printed on a piece of paper and accumulated in albums which accumulated on bookshelves or closet floors now fit in to a flash drive the size of  your little finger with room to spare. Even cell phones have a larger capacity than 19 albums. There is no more waiting for the pictures to be developed and they can be uploaded to a printer if you want a hard copy.

     Five years went by before I decided to do something with our photo albums, they held a lifetime of memories which I carried in my thoughts, they no longer held the same meaning they once held so what am I to do with them. I decided to sort the pictures and have them installed on a flash drive for the boys but there was a problem - I was not the person to do this because I had no idea what the hell I was talking about.

     This is where it helps to have kids who are smart and up to date with technology, Danny to the rescue. I sat down and removed all of the pictures from the albums, sorted them by year, labeled them with names, dates and places and gave them to Danny, he in turn copied them on his phone then transferred them to a flash drive, it took him almost a year but I was in no hurry.

     I started this blog so my kids, the grandkids and hopefully future generations will have something to look back on and see several generations of family that they never knew. I have put down every memory that comes to mind, they come a little slower now but they do still come. The pictures will put a face to my stories. 

     So, MJ and Matthew, somewhere there are pictures of people you never knew, your dad and uncle Clay from the time they were babies, your grandmother and I from when we were babies, great grandparents, great great grandparents back to the 1800's. Hopefully all of this will light a fire in your curiosity from an early age and you will add to what I have started.

The Sunday Drive

      I haven't written anything since June of last year. It's not that I didn't have any ideas I actually have several draft stories waiting for me to finish them but this has been a rather hectic year to say the least. I never for a moment thought I would have a year like this in my life time. First it was the election of a US president, the two candidates ( the sitting President and a former Vice President ) both were very controversial and had the nation turned topsy turvy before the election and even more so since the new President took office this last January. 

     Then there was this virus called COVID 19 that struck the entire world with sickness and death. Kay wouldn't let me leave home for months which turned out to be no big deal as so many businesses were closed, short staffed and out or low on merchandise. My barber was closed for about four months so I let my hair grow long and I grew a beard which I still have ( I look very distinguished if I do say so myself ). To make a long story short life as we knew it has mostly disappeared and the the new lifestyle just  sort of got in my way. 

     One of the things Kay and I started when we met  was to spend our Sunday afternoon on a Sunday drive around the countryside. We have traveled far and wide over north Georgia and sections of the states of North Carolina and South Carolina. Most of our travels have been on what we call "back roads", small two lane roads that twist and turn through and over the hills of Appalachia. We generally are out for 4 or 5 hours but have been out as much as 8. 

     These chaotic times had us looking forward to Sunday afternoons. We would ride around until we saw something of interest and stopped to look around, flea markets, antique stores, scenic overlooks and even wild flowers on the side of the road have caught our attention from time to time. Being a master gardener, Kay has a keen interest in the flora, fauna and foliage we see along the road side and we sometimes stop to dig up a plant or two for our own yard. Actually, after digging up plants with my bare fingers or a stick I bought a trenching tool that we keep under the seat of the truck. There are quite a few specimens adorning our yard, Kay has done herself proud with the arrangements of the plants she has spread around the house. Every evening before calling it a day Kay will stroll around the yard just to see what flower has opened that day sometimes I walk with her, I found a few of the plants and like to see how well they are doing.

     When Kay's Coonhound, Boone, passed away she had him cremated and one Sunday last fall we hopped in the truck with Boone's ashes, Kay wanted to spread them in the same place she had spread Wayne's ashes; after all Boone was really Wayne's dog so it was fitting they be together again. Kay had spread Wayne's ashes in a stream on a WMA north of Helen, Georgia so off we went. 

     Now at this time let me say that my knowledge of a WMA ( wildlife management area ) was that it is a big forest of trees with undergrowth of briars, wild grape vines and a floor of rotting leaves and dead trees, It is occupied by coyotes, raccoons, opossums, deer and bears with an occasional skunk thrown in for good measure. In addition to the wildlife and flora there are the views of endless mountains, hills and valleys of trees reaching to the horizon. To get to all of this there are a network of roads carved into the sides of the hills, some are maintained and easily driven while others are no more than two ruts running parallel to each other. 

     So here we go looking for a stream in the woods north of Helen. When we found the turn off from the highway it wasn't long ( maybe a hundred yards ) till the asphalt ended and the gravel took over, then we came to a stream or small shallow river littered with rocks of all sizes worn smooth after eons of being washed by the waters of the mountain. I thought to myself this was going to be easy, here is the stream just stop and spread Boone's ashes and move on but this was not to be, turns out this portion of water was too frequented by people. The small stream we were looking for was further into the forest so we drove into this small river of cold running water, emerging on the other side I couldn't help thinking how long it had been since the under carriage of the truck had been under water.

     We started up the road as it rose higher into the trees, this was a one lane road with a steep incline climbing higher on one side and an equally steep drop off  falling through the tops of  trees far below on the other side. I kept waiting for us to start our descent down the other side of the mountain so we could find Wayne's stream but we kept going up and up. Every now and then we met a truck or Jeep going the other way both of us would hug the side of the road so we could pass with just inches between us. We kept going up and up, we were several miles from the main road before Kay said, "stop" and there it was not much more than a trickle of water sliding over the rocks of the hillside and running through a culvert in the road on it's continuing path on down the mountain into the valley far below. I watched as Kay carefully emptied Boone's ashes into the water. After a while we got back into the truck and as we continued up the road Kay said, "I hope you can find this place again because if I die before you I want my ashes spread here also". I made her a promise, if I'm not around Clay would fill in for me.

     Never one to like going over the same ground twice, we continued heading up the mountain, as we  closed in on the top the road conditions worsened, the gravel slowly turned to mostly dirt and then there was this huge mudhole filled with water, I hoped it was not too deep. We made it through the mudhole and crested the mountain. The road down the other side was washed away in places, the tires would fall into deep ruts one minute and rise up on a large piece of granite the next. The pace was bumpy and slow, exciting and beautiful , finally we emerged back on the main highway just north of Helen. We probably should not have made this trip in our two wheel drive truck but we did and now we are ready to do it again.

     We rarely miss one of our Sunday drives, once in a while the weather may be too bad and sometimes we hook up the boat and go fishing instead but mostly Sundays are for driving the backroads. One Sunday we wound up in Cherokee, N.C., another time it was Augusta, Ga. and then Lake Jocassee in South Carolina but most of the time it's some two lane road leading to nowhere in particular. I keep thinking we have been on all of the roads in north Georgia and then we find one hidden by a curve or low hanging trees, we even bought a road map that shows the gravel and dirt roads of the WMA's.

     A couple of weeks ago we went for a ride with Doug and Luanne in their new SUV. We headed up past Lake Burton and came out on Hwy 76, Doug asked if we had been to Tate City, we hadn't. After filling up the gas tank we found this little two lane road and started out for Tate City. It wasn't long till we turned off the paved road and struck out on a graveled road into one of the many National Forest. This particular road followed the headwaters of the Tallulah River, it was most of the time narrow, mostly gravel and definitely about 20 degrees cooler than than what we left behind in Statham. We found Tate City, population 32 + or -. There were some really nice summer homes in Tate City, Kay and Luanne got a few pictures and we headed back.

     A few days later, a Sunday, Kay and I decided to go back towards Tate City and take our time exploring the area but this time we found another little known road that took us close to Tate City from a different direction. This road veered off Hwy 76 a little farther west of the Tate City road, it started out as pavement  and a couple of miles later turned into gravel  ( sort of ) and it started going up. There were hairpin turns carved out of the hillside with occasional gullies left over from a previous storm.

     We ran into a group of four wheel Toyotas  who soon disappeared up a path into the trees, we continued on up what we hoped was the main road. The gravel slowly disappeared into the deep ruts of dirt and mud, the rocks so huge and I had to ride up on the side of the dirt curb so  I didn't scrape a hole in the oil pan.  At this point I told Kay I was glad to be going down hill because I didn't think I could make it going up, after all we only had a two wheel drive truck. At one point we found a wide point and stopped so we could dig up some flowers for our yard then we continued our downward trek one hair pinned rut after another and the we came to the river. 

     The Tallulah River at the point was about 25 or 30 yards across and the water being crystal clear made it hard to determine the depth and there appeared to not be a place to drive out on the other side so we stopped to ponder the situation. Turning around and going back may have been doable  but the emphasis was on "may have been"  and the path forward was also precarious looking. As we sat there pondering our next move two women walked out of the water and one of them told us the water was not deep and people drove through it all the time, of course they had four wheel drive trucks and Jeeps. Well it was a case of the good road ahead was within site while the miles of bad road behind us were doubtful so we eased into the water. I took it slow and we still bounced over the abundant small smooth rocks in the stream bottom, water pushed ahead of our bumper as a man standing in the water guided us around some bushes on the bank to the path out of the water, we made it.

     There were a few times that day when Kay was worried about our chances of getting stuck or broke down, there were a few times I was wondering but I stayed confident. We have been thinking about getting a new vehicle and after this trip Kay has decided we need to look at four wheel drive vehicles. Four wheel drive would open up another avenue of adventure for us.

     Our Sunday drives have become a norm for us, we look forward to them. They remind Kay of drives with her family when she was a young girl, they remind me of drives with my grandfather when I was a kid. At this time in our lives anything that invokes happy memories is a good thing.

     

The Times, They Are Changing

     The 1960's were turbulent times, African Americans were fighting for equal rights, America's youth were fighting against the Vietnam War.
     The early 60's headlines were consumed with racial equality. President Kennedy desegregated the schools allowing African American kids to attend traditionally white schools, colleges and universities thereby obtaining an education equal to that of white kids. President Kennedy was assinated during his second year of office in November, 1962, I was a freshman in high school.
     Vice President Lyndon Johnson was sworn into the office of President and over the next few years he dealt with a multitude of issues including racial equality, the Vietnam War and civil protest about both issues. He did get a Civil Rights Bill passed but it took a lot of arm twisting and organized peaceful marches particularly in southern cities.
     A  Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. from Atlanta, Georgia was the leader of the racial equality movement, he advocated against violence even though many of the marchers were met with violence and even death.
     In 1965 I enlisted in the U. S. Navy, while attending boot camp I received my draft notice.
     After two years in the Navy I was given orders to an outfit in Vietnam, I left in late November. There were protest and even rioting against the war, college students and other young people from around the country marched and confronted authorities on campuses and streets. Heads were busted with nightsticks, blood ran from cuts and lacerations, police cars were set afire, university buildings were occupied. The National guard was called up, students were arrested, beaten and at Kent State University several were shot and killed by the National Guard.
     I returned from my first Vietnam assignment in late March 1968 and was allowed to return home to get Linda. We left Nashville, Tennessee in the afternoon of April 4, 1968 and started driving to San Diego, California. About halfway to Memphis, Tn. we heard on the radio that Dr. King, who was in Memphis, had been assinated. Tensions were so high that a curfew was placed on the city, we slipped through just as the curfew went into effect, moving on we passed through Little Rock, Ar. slightly ahead of the curfew for that city. Every major city in the country was consumed with riots, looting and the burning of cars, businesses and homes.
     During all of this, war protesters kept up their vigil, GI's returning from their tours in Vietnam were cursed and spit on, they were called "baby killers".  Everyday newspapers around the country printed the names of fallen GI's killed in action, their numbers grew into the hundreds then thousands, the returning wounded numbered into the thousands and filled VA hospitals across the nation.
     I was fortunate, I returned unscathed, Linda and I picked up our lives and moved on. When I returned from Vietnam I received a welcome home package from the Navy, one of the things it held was a family coupon book for Disneyland in Anihiem, Ca., having never been Linda and I drove to LA and picked up her cousin Bobby, who was about ten at the time, and took him to Disneyland with us.
     Disneyland had a hall of presidents, it was a collection of robotic beings that looked like every president from George Washington to  Lyndon Johnson, they sat and stood around as a group, smiling and nodding their heads as you walked by. The main character was President Abraham Lincoln, he sat in a straight back arm chair, his legs crossed, his fingers tapping on the arm, his head turned from side to side and nodded, his eyes followed you as you walked by, it was eerie.  When the audience was seated the lights went down and a spot went up on Lincoln, he uncrossed his legs, and stood then began to speak.
     It was a speech he gave January 27, 1838, his Lyceum speech, I had chills on my spine then and have never forgotten the experience. The following is a portion of the speech although a very significant portion for 1968 and especially today - June, 2020.

     "Shall we expect some Trans Atlantic military giant to step the ocean and crush us at a blow? Never ! All of the armies of Europe, Asia and Africa combined, with all the treasure of the earth in their military chest with Bonaparte for a commander, could not by force take a drink from the Ohio or make a track on the Blue Ridge in a trial of a thousand years. At what point then is the approach of danger to be expected ? I answer. If it ever reach us it must spring up amongst us, it can not come from abroad. If destruction be our lot we must ourselves be it's author and finisher. As a nation of free men we must live through all time or die by suicide."

     Over the last four months our nation and the rest of the world has been in a battle with a virus called Covid - 19.  People have been shut up in their homes fearful of contracting this disease that has sickened and killed thousands in Georgia alone. Tensions are running high, people are ready to get back to work while others think we should stay in quarantine for a while longer.
     A spark ignites a flame, a policeman uses too much force and an African American in custody dies. Nationwide protest erupt, before it is all over the protest will grow to world wide proportions with protest in many countries.
    Once again the streets are filled with young people protesting police brutality, racism and death of black men and women at the hands of the police. The protest start out peaceful but soon turn violent. Outsiders infiltrate the protesters, starting fires, taunting law enforcement, breaking into and looting businesses. Arrests are made, people on both sides are injured and even killed. Because it is an election year, political parties are using the turmoil to sway voters to their side.
     Change is demanded by the protesters, they are tired of being lied to, tired of being used then forgotten until they were needed again - usually at election time. The powers that be are anxious to appease the protesters so monuments of the past, offensive to some, are removed without regard to their true meaning. Talk of defunding police departments in major cities across the nation is rapidly growing. Blame is thrown out to all corners yet no one accepts it. For days the protest continue, curfews are put in place, violence continues.
     Finally, after more than a week things start to calm, the agitators are gone, the protest are more peaceful and of shorter duration. The clean up begins, life becomes somewhat more normal but most likely it may never be what we call normal again.
      I have lived through a lot of changes in my time, every generation does to some extent. Every generation  complains about the new generation and it's ability to survive without them. I hope I'm wrong but this generation that is protesting now gives me serious doubts as to the future my grandchildren will have, for sure it will not be the idyllic times I grew up in. I can only hope people can come to their senses.
     You can't change history by removing monuments, you can't understand history by picking only the parts that fit your ideas, you can't move forward into the future without bringing some of the past with you.

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                                                                    November 9, 2020

     2020 has been and continues to be the most screwed up year in recent memory. First the Democrats of the U.S. House of Representatives and the U.S. Senate continue their culminated their attempt to impeach the Republican President Donald Trump. They have been at this since President Trump was elected and took office in 2016, you might ask why the democrats have spent so much time and millions of tax dollars to impeach a duly elected President, in my opinion and that of many others the reason for the impeachment is pretty simple - HATRED. They hate President Trump because he is not "presidential", he threatens the political  way of doing things, he is not and has never been a politician, he is a very successful businessman worth many billions of dollars. The impeachment failed as everyone but the Democrats knew it would.

     While the impeachment was going on a virus called Codiv19 arrived on the scene from China. The virus was and continues to be deadly especially in the larger metropolitan areas or anywhere the people gather in large groups. There has been nothing like it since the Spanish flu of the early 1900's where more than fifty million people died worldwide. There is no known cure for Codiv19, it is particularly hard on old people and anybody with preexisting conditions like cancer, COPD, heart conditions, obesity and diabetes. The death toll in the United States stands at about 300,000, world wide deaths are running into the millions with 50 million people infected. The world is shut down as citizens everywhere have been ordered to stay home and only go out for essential errands. Businesses not deemed essential are closed, hospitals are overloaded with the sick and dying. Every where you go you have to wear a mask to keep from spreading the germs or to keep from inhaling the germs.

     Kay and I became hermits, all of our normal activities were canceled and due to my age Kay kept me bundled up at home. Kay would go out to the get groceries that she ordered on line while I stayed home. Our Sunday drives in the country became just that, we would ride around sight seeing but never stopping if there were any people, bottles of hand sanitizer were in each door of the truck and it was used anytime we got out of the truck. Our barber was closed so I didn't get a haircut for about four months and because I wasn't seeing anybody other than Kay, I decided to grow a beard. Daily life as we knew it no longer existed, a new term was coined "the new normal". 

     The virus seemed to run amuck for a while then new cases and death tolls would drop, the country would was lulled into letting down their defenses, mandates were relaxed, the rush to get the country back to work was on. Things were looking good.

     This is an election year, the Democrats are working hard to defeat President Trump and gain a majority in the House and Senate, the Republicans are working hard to defeat the Democrats. Adding to this fight is the fight for racial justice, several black criminals have been killed by police in several cities, protestors took to the streets and as usual there is somebody who wants to take advantage of situations so the protests would turn to looting, burning and assaults. The protest turn into riots with results in people on both sides being hurt, protestors are jailed, businesses are burned and looted. Strangely enough these riots seem to only take place in Democratic run cities and states. Riots in many cities have been going on now for more than 150 days with no end in sight.

     There is a movement that calls for the defunding of the police, mayors, governors and city council members restrict the response the police are allowed to give many times claiming the protest are peaceful. There are two new groups who appeared on the protesting scene - BLM and Antifa. The BLM stands for Black Lives Matter and people flock to them. I was believed the BLM was supposed to stand with black people and support them in their quest for racial justice, everyone thought it would do something good for the black community but the black community is waiting for that to happen, seems the BLM is more interested rioting, looting, taking over cities and tearing down statues they deem offensive. So far I have seen nothing good come from the BLM movement, their leaders are professed Marxist who are prepared to destroy our democratic society, they believe in socialism.

     Antifa is a left wing political movement whose stated goal is to disrupt the American way of life even if they have to become violent. In short they want to turn America into a socialist state.

     The presidential election has been held, it turned into a big surprise - a democrat was elected to the office of president, the House of Representatives remains controlled by the democrats and the Senate won't know who is in control until a run-off election for two Georgia seats takes place January 5th, 2021. Pressure is being applied to the citizens of Georgia to get out and vote, the Democrats are slinging the proverbial mud at the Republicans and the Republicans are slinging mud back at them. President Trump, even though he doesn't have the Electoral votes has refused to concede the election, he is fighting the results in the courts claiming fraud and mismanagement of the election system. 

     I'm seventy three years old, I can remember presidential elections back to the election of John Kennedy in 1959, he was the first Catholic President. This has been the been the election to end all elections. I have never seen such hatred the two parties have for each other, a hatred that has spilled over to the voters. The two parties no longer seem to want to work for the common good of the American people, each party considers their ideals to be the best for the country and each seems to be hell bent on dominance of the other - America be damned.

     In the mean time, the virus has reared it's ugly head again, the number of cases have started to climb as well as the death rate. The Democrats blame President Trump for many of the deaths claiming he failed to implement protective measures quick enough back in the first of the year and now that the virus has been revived they say he has again failed to take action by making nationwide mandatory regulations. Many, myself included, think that Trump has done all that he could do under the circumstances, under his watch the country has virtually been shut down. Unemployment has reached record rates, business closings have reached an all time high with many small businesses closing for good. In the beginning the country was ill prepared with needed medical supplies and equipment, President Trump had several big businesses halt production of their products and start producing the needed supplies and distribute them around the country and even to other parts of the world where needed. 

     President Trump removed Federal regulations so pharmaceutical companies could quickly develop a vaccine and get it into production. As of now there are several companies with an emergency approval of their vaccine from the FDA, millions of doses of a vaccine are ready to ship with inoculations to start in mid December.

     There is still another month of this year to go, I would say I'm ready to get off of this rollercoaster, which I am, but I'm worried for our future. Will the Senate races here in Georgia leave the Senate in the control of the Republicans, will the Democrats be successful in the pursuit of their programs of open borders, defunding of the police, support for late term abortions and raising taxes to cover the free programs they have promised. 

     Lincoln's Lyceum speech looms large in my  mind, the people of the United States are as divided now as they were in the mid 1800's prior to the Civil War. There is a division of the races and political parties, there are new factions whose sole purpose seems to be to widen the gaps of the divisions and hope that from the turmoil a new society will emerge, a society of socialism.

     Lincoln was right in that America can not be destroyed by the armies of other nations but it can be brought down by hordes of disgruntled citizens with an idea of a new and better form of government. Never in my life have I imagined such turmoil in America, I can only hope calmer minds on both side will prevail.   

The Legacy

     I have been writing this blog since early 2012, it has taken a lot of time to become comfortable on the computer, I have made lots of mistakes. Let's face it, technology is not something I excel in, but I try. I'm on face book which is another major accomplishment that also comes with problems that leave me frustrated to say the least.
     Face book was something Linda started mainly as a means to keep up with family especially after MJ was born. She seldom responded to any postings but she would sometimes call me in to look at something someone had posted.
     My sister got me started writing this blog, I wanted to put down all of the family stories I could remember before I forgot them, I wanted my boys and their kids to know where they come from  and maybe pass along stories to future generations. When Linda's health started going down hill I was determined that MJ and Matthew would know their Grandmother if only in my memories. I have come to think of this blog as my legacy to future generations of a family started long ago.
     I am face book friends with maybe 25 people including several cousins and one remaining uncle. I enjoy reading the postings they make and even go so far as to comment on them. One of the most interesting consequences of reading the postings of my relatives are the little tidbits of family lore that I pick up on from time to time.
     Case in point - Sister Vickie shared a story about our Grandmother Ruth Wade, Granny had a habit of saying "well I swan" whenever something would go wrong. This story brought back memories for me and I remember Granny saying just those words, for her it was a matter of upbringing, she was raised in a time when it was not nice for ladies to use foul language so when she might stub her toe instead of saying "damn" she would say "well I swan". Grand Pa could be aggravating at times he made her swan a lot. Uncle Paul is Granny's youngest son, he will turn 90 in a couple of months, his body is showing his age but his mind is as sharp as a tack, he recently commented on a post about going barefoot, he said that Granny would not let them go barefoot until someone brought her a butterfly, the theory is that if the weather was warm enough for butterflies it was warm enough to go barefoot. This little tidbit was news to me but thinking back it fits right in with the way people were raised in the 1930's, the main thing to remember is that this small look into the past would have been lost had not Uncle Paul responded to something he saw on the computer.
     I never knew that my Aunt Elizabeth was not raised by my Grand Parents, I remember seeing her and her family most weekends when growing up, I never realized there was even any strife in the family until a couple of years ago. My cousin Gayle, her youngest daughter, told me the story of how Aunt Elizabeth was sent away to be raised by someone else at a very early age. My Dad was always considered the youngest in the family but in fact he had a younger sister who became sick one day. The baby became so sick that Granny sent Aunt Elizabeth to a neighbor, down the road, to get the neighbor lady to come help Granny. Aunt Elizabeth was just a young girl herself, she became distracted in some way and didn't get to the neighbors house in a timely manor, by the time the neighbor arrived the baby had died.  Granny evidently was distraught to the point that she sent Aunt Elizabeth away, I understand this was not what Grand Pa wanted. This lady by the name of Bertie, raised Aunt Elizabeth and another girl to adults, on her death Bertie left everything she owned to Aunt Elizabeth and the other girl, for whatever reason Granny went to court to have the will annulled, she was not successful. This story was really surprising to me as this was not the Grand Mother I knew but it did answer a question I had never gotten an answer to - why did Gayle's older sister Jo Ann not want any Riggan's at her funeral. This story forced me to see my Grand Parents in a different light.
     Gayle had another tidbit to pass along about Aunt Elizabeth, it is a dash of wisdom one seldom hears anymore. Seems Aunt Elizabeth was fond of saying "if you can count your friends on one hand you are lucky, if it takes both hands you are lying to yourself".
     Getting back to Uncle Paul, I think I would have liked to have grown up with him as a friend, I can easily understand why Granny and Grand Pa had grey hair so early in life. He recently divulged that he lied about his age and joined the Tennessee National Guard when he was 13 years old, he could field strip and reassemble a Thompson Sub Machine gun in mere minutes. An earlier comment found him telling my niece Tina that he used to babysit her Dad and I when he was a teenager, said babysitting duties included the changing of dirty diapers.
     I think it is important that these little morsels of history be remembered and cherished for future generations, it would be a shame if they were to disappear with the passing of a generation.