The Dancing Queen

 

     In 1976 a group called ABBA released a song called "Dancing Queen", hearing it reminds me of Linda, one of her many talents was dancing.

     The first time I met her was at the "E" club on Patrick Air Force Base. She was dancing with various guys and when none were brave enough to approach her she would dance with one of the other girls. Linda loved to dance, I on the other hand had no idea how to dance and like some of the others I was afraid to ask any girl to dance much less the most beautiful girl there.

     Linda was part of a group of girls who would take a bus, provided by the base to pick them up, and go to the "E" club and dance with some of the young guys. Her dad had heard about the arrangement and talked her into going, she really didn't want to go but her dad was insistent.

     A week or so before I met Linda, I had my first beer, actually I had quite a few of them which resulted in my first hangover and boy was it a doozy. So along came Saturday night and several of us were drinking a few beers at the  grill on base, actually more than a few, when someone said let's go to the "E" club. I wasn't so drunk that I was falling down, I could walk somewhat of a straight line but the important thing was that with a few beers under my belt I was brave enough to ask a girl to dance and that girl was Linda. I danced several dances with her before the night was over, I even tried a slow dance and held her in my arms for the first time. When the night was over we parted company and I never thought I would see her again.

     It turns out that Linda was attending these dances with her best friend whom she told that she hoped to never again meet that guy, meaning me. Now as luck would have it, her girl friend had her eye on one of the other guys from my outfit but she didn't want to go out with him unless it was a double date. Once again as luck would have it, he asked me to go with him, he even enticed me by telling me how good looking my date was. Linda evidently had a sort memory because she didn't recognize me but even with my blurred memory I remembered the most beautiful girl at the dance. We had several dates before her friend told her who I was, by then I had won her over, our fate was sealed. 

     We dated for the better part of a year before we married, several of our dates were at the "E" club. Fortunately, the dancing of the day consisted of few steps, it was more gyrating of the hips, a wriggling of the body and occasional shuffling of the feet, at least that was how I did it or so I thought. My room mate said I looked like a character from the sitcom "the Adams Family" his name was Lurch and he moved around very stiffly. Linda on the other hand was like most girls of the day, she knew all of the dance steps. After we were married we didn't dance as much for the next few years not until we bought our first house and our parties had music, then we would dance the night away. I continued to be stiff in my movements while she would kick off her shoes and wear out her stockings.

     Eventually we made a move to Florida and started a family, my work took us all over the country. Alas we didn't really get the chance to dance again until her dad's 75th birthday, we were in our late forties then, a little heavier, greyer and slower. When the music started I took her in my arms, held her tight and slow danced, her cheek rested on my chest and my face nestled in her hair she still smelled as fresh as it did when she was 17 and I couldn't get enough of it. 

     We never danced again after that but at every occasion I would hold her tight and bury my face in her hair. 

     

A Fleeting Memory

 

     Brother Ronnie once told me a story that took place in the late 60's (maybe). He was not yet old enough to drive but dad had Ronnie driving him around especially when he was to inebriated to drive himself or for whatever reason he didn't want to drive. When Clint and mom found out they were beyond ticked off but in Ronnies defense, he didn't have a lot of say in the matter, having been there I can say it was better to have me or Ronnie behind the wheel even though we had no license and were underage.

     One of the places dad wanted Ronnie to go with him was to see his mother on Sunday mornings. Granny lived in a room in a house in Lebanon and dad like to go visit her on Sunday and Ronnie was recruited to go with him. I guess these trips had been going on for some time although they were not something Ronnie looked forward to after all Granny was old, set in her ways and showed favoritism to only her sons and me. 

     One particular Sunday morning dad came in and woke up Ronnie to go with him to see granny, Ronnie for whatever reason was not in the mood to go and he tried talking his way out of going. After much cajoling Ronnie lost his cool and told dad that he didn't want to go because granny didn't like him and she let him know it. Dad on the other hand wasn't having it and was standing his ground until mom walked in and told Ronnie to go with dad and that's when Ronnie lost it. Ronnie looked at mom and told her "she's your mother-in-law, why don't you go with him". According to Ronnie that was the worst whipping he had ever gotten.

     I can attest to grannie's being difficult, as I said above, she made no bones that her favorite people were her sons and me. Over the years I learned that her daughters and daughters-in-law were tolerated, mom didn't like her for sure. My memories of her are all good but then I was the reigning favorite grandchild and it would be hard for me to give those up.

Coming Home

 

     Since leaving home after turning eighteen, I have returned home many times. Some of those trips would leave me scratching my head, counting my blessing and at times hoping I had nine lives like a cat because I just used up one.

     My first time in an airplane was 1965 when I went off to Navy bootcamp when I was eighteen, the plane was propeller driven, jet engines for passenger planes were still a new idea, I flew from Nashville, Tn. to Chicago, Il.. It was an exciting adventure, the first of many. There were three of us from different parts of Tennessee. One boy, from the deep woods of middle Tennessee, sat next to the window and constantly starred at the engines. After a while, the boy sitting next to him asked what he was looking at, while keeping his eyes glued to the engine, he said that he was concerned that the engine would blow up if the pilot didn't shift into a higher gear. Turns out the boy had never seen an airplane up close much less ridden in one. Over the years an airplane brought me home many times, not all of the rides were smooth.

     After my first tour in Vietnam ended, the Navy flew us home in an old four engine, propeller driven, plane. We started off in Da Nang, Vietnam and flew to Subic Bay in the Philippines where we spent the night. The next day we flew to Yokohama, Japan where we refueled then on to the scenic island of Guam where we spent the night. The third day we boarded the plane and flew to the island of Midway where we picked up box lunches and more fuel then we were off to Hawaii for another sleepover. The next day we boarded the plane for the last leg of the trip, destination San Diego, Ca.

     Our pilot was somewhat of a joker. In Guam, he and a few of the other guys loaded up on liquor at the duty-free store, somewhere between Midway and Hawaii he came out of the cockpit holding an empty liquor bottle and feigning being drunk claimed he had finished off his bottle and needed more.

      The next morning we were ready to takeoff on our final leg of the trip. The plane goes rolling down the runway at full speed but just as it should be leaping in to the air the pilot slams on the brakes then taxies back to the other end of the runway, this happens three times. The pilot gets on the intercom and tells us if we would look out the window we would see that the propeller on one engine was not spinning, it seemed that the engine wouldn't start the normal way so they were trying to drag start it, if they couldn't get it going they would have to postpone the trip until repairs were made.

     Well, the engine started on the next attempt and we took off but instead of heading out over the ocean we started circling the airport. After several circles the pilot once again told us that there was a red light on the dashboard that indicated the alternator was not working but he thought it was a faulty light so we were going to circle the airport another time or two. It wasn't long before we headed out over the ocean for our last leg of the trip which was a little over twenty five hundred miles. At maximum speed it would take us at least eleven hours.

     Several hours into the flight, the pilot comes on the intercom again and proudly claims he was right about the light being faulty because it was still out but it didn't matter because we were at the point of no return meaning it was just as far to go back as it was to go forward. We finally landed in the wee hours of the morning.

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     The second time I returned from Vietnam was uneventful and after a few days I got leave to fly home to get Linda and drive back to California. 

     Back in the late 1960's there was a lot of unrest in America and around the world, not everybody was happy with the American way of life. Draft dodgers left the country for Canada and oddly enough there were people who wanted to go to Cuba, a communist country, so they would highjack airliners. Well there I was on plane to Orlando, Fl., it was a night flight and believe it or not there were no more than twenty or so people. There were several men of obvious Spanish decent, I couldn't help but wonder if we were going to land in Orlando or Cuba, the butterflies in my stomach finally went away when I walked off the plane in Orlando and saw Linda waiting.

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     Years later I was returning from a business trip to California, I had to change planes in Dallas, Tx. before flying on to Orlando. The plane was full. We taxied down the runway towards our takeoff point but stopped short behind several other planes, seems there were severe thunderstorms in the area and all planes were held on the ground as a safety precaution. This delay in it's self was not so bad except that it was July in Texas, hot and humid, and we sat there for over an hour waiting for the storms to clear and the pilots decided to conserve fuel so the shut down the engines, there we were, some 150 + passengers and crew sitting in a long cylinder with no ventilation. The pilot finally turned the engines back on but not without the threat of mutiny. 

     The storms calmed long enough to allow us to takeoff but our route would take us into them the line of storms that had just passed over us. The pilot decided to go around the line of storms and get in front of it so we went as far north as Memphis, Tn. before turning south to Orlando but we would still fly through some rough weather so all passengers were told to keep their seat belts on and even the stewardesses were not allowed to get out of their seats. Rough weather was an understatement, I don't know what kept us in the sky, the plane was bouncing all over the place with down drafts and up drafts, it was about forty five minutes before we turned south and the ride smoothed out.

     

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      I was working in New Jersey in the late 1990's, every couple of weeks I would fly home. I took advantage of the Presidents Day weekend to fly home for three or four days. When I arrived at the airport I was put on an earlier flight which was loading then, the flight was full. I was in the middle seat, a cadet from West Point had the window seat and a young woman who worked as an accountant for Jim Henson Productions was in the isle seat.

     The plane was a twin engine Airbus. Once we were loaded a tractor backed us away from the boarding tunnel and the pilot attempted to start the engines. A few moments later the pilot made an announcement that if we would look out the window there was a crew that had the cowling off the engine and were working on it, the pilot told us that we had a bad starter which would be fixed momentarily. T mechanics quickly had the new starter installed and the cowling back in place and the engine was spinning over, this was done to blow out any fuel residues from trying to start it earlier. Now the pilot hit the starter and a bright orange flame about a hundred feet long shot out of the engine, People screamed and someone shouted "we're gonna die". Passengers jumped up from their seats and crowded the isle in total chaos, the stewardesses finally got people to calm down but they were determined to get off the plane they had no confidence.

     The pilot came over the speakers and explained the situation, simply put not all of the fuel was ejected before hitting the starter. The pilot stated that he had some thirty five years experience and he assured us there was nothing wrong with the plane, Finally he said he would go back to the gate and allow anyone to get off but if they expected to get another flight out before next Tuesday they would have a difficult time as this was a national holiday weekend, that last part seemed to calm the nerves.

     In the mean while the cadet bought the pilots explanation but the young woman next to me was still shaking. She looked at me and asked what I was going to do, I told her it was not my time to die and I was going home on that plane, I offered her my hand and told her if it would make her feel better she could hold it, she grabbed it and held on tightly, we were thirty five  thousand feet in the air before she turned loose, there indents in my palm where her nails dug in. 

     Barring the fiasco at the beginning it was a smooth flight.

     These are the most memorable of all the flights I have been on over the years, there were others that had there moments such as fog so dense you couldn't see the runway, winds so strong the plane had to land sideways to the runway and blinding rain but flying is still the safest mode of transportation. 

Leaving The Nest

 

     Being the oldest, I was also the first to leave home. On my eighteenth birthday I signed up for the draft and over the course of the next three weeks reached the decision to join the US Navy, come June twelfth I boarded a plane to bootcamp. 

     I was excited to take my first steps into the unknown world but I don't think Mom and Dad were as ready. It's been a long time but I seem to remember Dad watching me climb the boarding ladder of the plane with a tear in his eye. Mom was looking at him with a smile and I have never been sure if she were smiling at Dad or thinking how much less work she was going to have now that I was gone - one down four to go. Nevertheless, I was gone, out on my own and out of their hair - at least for the next four years.

     Over the next four years I met and married Linda, the girl of my dreams and went to war twice. I came home on leave several times and on my honeymoon. When my leave from bootcamp was over I took a bus to my first duty station and again Mom and Dad took me to the station to see me off, this time I watched from the bus window and Dad really did have a tear in his eye actually several. 

     After my tour in the Navy, Linda and I returned home and continued our life together. We or rather I was up then down then back up and often down again, I hadn't found my place in life. After seven years I sought my fame and fortune in Florida and again Mom and Dad were there to see us off, Dad didn't shed a tear this time but he wasn't too happy about it.

     I found my place in life and over the next forty plus years our home was wherever we happened to be. Visits to the old home place were not as often as Mom and Dad liked but that's the way life is at times.

     It seemed to be a lifetime before we settled down in Georgia, the boys were in grammar school and Linda and I were tired of moving. Georgia turned out to be a good place to settle, everybody was happy.

     Kids leaving home is nothing new, it's expected of them but most don't just up and move hundreds of miles, or more, away but it does happen

     Fast forward about thirty years, Lina has been gone eight years now, MJ is about to turn ten and Mathew will be eight a couple of months later. Danny and Marie are doing well in their jobs and Kay and I are enjoying our life of retirement. Unfortunately, Clay and Maggie didn't last as long as I had hoped but that happens sometimes. 

     After Maggie and Clay split apart, Clay had some problems deciding what his next move was going to be but he eventually worked it out and landed a good job with a local company but though the job was a good one the future was somewhat up in the air. The company was small and family owned, there was that question hanging in the air about what will happen when the owner deicides to retire or sell out. Well, Clay decided to keep his options open. 

     A recruiter he had worked with kept calling him with opportunities, the positions were all over the country. Some of the companies he would turn down out right while others he would talk to on a phone interview and although they all had their merits none of them tickled his fancy, as they say. Recently one company caught his attention. The recruiter came up with a company in Orlando and after a couple of phone interviews they invited him down for a face to face meeting.

     Clay had told me about this prospect a couple of weeks ago but I didn't get the feeling that it would go any further but it did. The next thing I know Clay has posted on Face Book that he is in Cocoa Beach, Florida. The interview turned into a firm offer, and a good one I might add, so Clay jumped on it.

     I have to admit that when Clay told me about the impending move I sort of choked up a little, I was even a little bit down for a while. Afterwards, I realized how my own parents must have felt when I left home, how Linda's parents must have felt when I took her away from them. I'm OK now, after all kids have been leaving home since time began, I even know some people who wish their kids would leave home. Clay is a good son and I love him dearly, he's smart and will be an asset to the new company. We have said our goodbyes now and yesterday he drove down to Orlando as his first day is Monday, I wish him well and can't wait to see him when he comes home for Christmas.

     On a good note, he is temporarily renting a place with three bedrooms and he will have time to check out all of the local fishing holes in time for a springtime fishing trip.

Memories Of Long Ago

 

     A long time ago, we didn't have the conveniences available today, for example - air conditioning. I was born in 1947 and my family didn't have air conditioning until 1964, my school got it in 1963 and I didn't own a car with "air" until 1970.

     I was reminded of our struggles, to keep cool, earlier today when Kay and I attended a local festival that had a music venue. It was held outdoors and although it was cooler than usual it was still a little warm. Before I get too far into today's discovery let me set the stage by going back a about 70 years, more or less.

     What religious upbringing I had was with my Grandpa Riggan, he was very devout and regularly attended church every Sunday and most Wednesday nights. I spent a lot of time with he and Granny from a very early age and wherever he went I went. His church was rather small compared to those of today, it was wood framed with tall windows - cold in the winter and hot in the summer and in the early 1950's there was no air conditioning and probably no heat. What they did have to beat the summer heat were "paddle fans".

     Paddle fans, as I call them, were two thick, stiff pieces of paper with a tongue depressor type piece of wood glued between them. The holder of the fan would wave it vigorously back and forth in front of their face thus creating a breeze that would keep the person somewhat cool and dry. Of course, a lot depended on the temperature, length of the sermon and the size of the person.

     The most interesting thing about the fans were the designs, those in the churches were of course decorated with a picture of Jesus, a shepherd tending his flock, Moses parting the sea or some other religious scene. The back side usually had an advertisement from a local funeral home, dry cleaner or feed store. I guess although dying was a certainty, the funeral homes figured a little early advertising couldn't hurt. Every church and funeral home had boxes of these fans as they tended to walk off with the clientele. Granny had several fans in case she misplaced one or had guest, actually the fans were everywhere you went from barber shops to grocery stores to gas stations.

     Fast forward to today, on the benches of the music venue were cheaper versions of the fan with an advertisement, on one side only, for a local realtor. They did come in handy and served their purpose very well. I don't think the paddle fans are going to make a big come back, their need now is more of a novelty than necessity, sadly they have gone the way of the horse and buggy and gas station., they are just another memory from a time long ago.

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     There was a time when the only way to stay in contact with a distant friend or relative was to go see them, call them on the phone, which was attached to the wall in one room of the house, or write them a letter. 

     My grandmother mothers were big letter writers but they were also very conscious of the cost with first class postage being four cents back in the 1950's. Granny Riggan wrote letters but more often she would send post cards that cost a penny to mail. She would leave a note to the postman telling him how many postcards and stamps she needed and he would leave them in her mailbox.

     The cards were plain white, three inches wide and five inches long, one side was for the address and stamp and the other side was where you wrote whatever you wanted to say. If you wrote really small you could say a lot. The only problem with postcards was that anybody who handled the card could read whatever you wrote, privacy was not to be expected.

     Postcards from that era were works of art, one side had a picture of depicting scenery from the place you purchased the card. The other side was where you wrote the address and a short note usually saying things like "we made it" or "wish you were here". Granny had a box of cards she had collected over the years and I would spend a lot of time looking through them. These cards are collector items today.

     Kay and I got into a habit of sending postcards to the grandkids whenever we traveled out of state but they are getting hard to find. There used to be carousels filled with cards in drug stores, gift shops and even gas stations. We had real good luck finding them at state park welcome centers but this last trip we took to Tennessee was a bust for finding cards. We went to Kentucky and on our way back we stopped at four different truck stops and once back in Tennessee we went to a state park, it was all in vain as we couldn't find any cards.

     With all of the cell phones and computers where you can see the person you are talking to, nobody seems to be interested in the personal touch of a picture postcard especially now that the postage has gone from a penny in the 1950's to sixty cents in 2022 and the card cost has gone from a penny to a couple of dollars. Another reminder that one day even I will become someone's memory from the past, I just hope it's a good one.

 

Frank and Jesse Together Again

 

     

     Kay has met all of my family, including cousins, east of the Mississippi River but my brother Pat and his wife Teresa live in Arizona and have made it clear they will not return to the south. Having     said that, the only way to see Pat and Tee was to go to Arizona.

     Pat and I talk on the phone every now and then but the last time we saw each other was about 2010. I'm the proverbial first born, the oldest of the family, Pat holds a close number two position being fifteen months younger than me. Growing up we were inseparable so much so that we were treated  more like twins, we got the same gifts for Christmas and often wore the same cloths. Where one of went the other was not far behind.

     Our parents named us Mike and Pat and those are the names we have gone by our entire lives but a few years ago I found out there was a time when we were known as Frank and Jesse. According to our cousin Beverly, when all three of us were little more than toddlers we lived in Gallatin, Tn. and we spent a lot of time playing together. Beverly says that her grandfather would see us running over to play and would say "here comes Frank and Jesse" which was a play on the notorious outlaws known as the James gang of the old west. Actually, I think his reference was more in line with the mischief we got into at such an early age, at any rate I kinda like it and even Pat seemed to get a kick out of it last

     Sometime in our teenage years our paths started to wander off in different directions, our meetings became short and less often especially in the years we spent in the Navy. When we returned home we became somewhat estranged and didn't see as much of each other, we didn't realize for many years that mom had a big part in that, she liked to keep things stirred up among us kids.

     Back in 2010 Pat and his wife Teresa were living in South Carolina when they got the itch to explore the west. Pat called up one day and said he was coming through town and wanted to stop for a visit, we reconnected then and have kept in touch since but only via phone calls and Christmas cards. So when Kay brought up the subject, we made plans. Turns out that Amtrak has a train to Arizona so to try something new we spent three days riding the 1800 miles to Tuscon. 

     Having not seen Pat in a few years I didn't really know what to expect. I remember the last time I saw him he was a little heavier and had a bit of grey in his hair. I was pleasantly surprised to see he had lost some weight and his hair had turned white, on the opposite side of the equation I have gained weight and my hair is certainly grey. I turn 75 in another six weeks or so and Pat will turn 74 in August so we both move a little slower and groan a lot more when we move but on the plus side - I'm still taller. I have been told I favor my father or at least his side of the family, on the other hand Pat favors mom's side of the family with a strong resemblance to grandpa even to having the stub of a cigar sticking in one side of his mouth.

     We spent a good deal of time reminiscing as our wives listened, we all laughed and in the end I didn't want to go. Three days is not enough time to catch up on the years we missed out on but three days was all we had and now we have another memory to look back on and for three days Frank and Jesse rode together again.

     Pat and Teresa Have made a beautiful home for themselves, the walls of the house are a tribute to their artistry, they both are artist in several fields. Pat presently enjoys working with beads in the style of the Native Americans of the southwest. Teresa works in stained glass and mosaics, her mosaic angels are beautiful, all of their work is beautiful.

     I joke about being the oldest and having gotten all of the good genes from our parents and how I have decided to be like our Uncle Paul and live well into my 90's. Well it could happen but the reality is that all of us are getting older and I often find myself wondering if the last time I saw one of my siblings will it be the last time, will the last time I talked to them be the last time. It still weighs heavy on me that I was the last person to talk to my brother Ronnie just an hour or two before he died and he was the youngest of us. Will I live into my 90's like Uncle Paul ? I really don't know but I don't want there to be any regrets.

     The night before we left I thought about what I would say to Pat when we parted, I ran several scenarios over and over in my head but when we got to the station all I could do was shake his hand and tell him to take care. I love my brother Pat, my brother Clint and sister Vickie, I don't know when or if we will see each other again so they will have to read this to know I do love them.

      

     

     

In My Wildest Dreams

     

     Well it happened, not in my wildest dreams did I ever think I would get this far but I did. Today is May 5th 2022, and I am officially 75 years old.

     When I was young getting old was something we just didn't think about, we knew old age would eventually catch up with us but that was a long time away. I guess all young people thought like that even though old people walked among us like visions of our future, we acknowledged their existence while denying the fact that someday we would become like them. When Linda and I bought our first house way back in 1972 the loan was for 30 years, I was 25 at the time and horrified with the thought that I would live long enough to pay off the loan, I just couldn't believe that I would ever get that old. 

     One day I woke up and found out that I was 30, another time I woke up and I was 40, the word decade seemed to take on a whole new meaning. The funny thing about it though is that I never really felt any older, my body still functioned normally and the person I looked at in the mirror as I shaved in the morning was still that good looking guy I was ten years before. It took a while but it finally hit me that I was slowly getting older.

     Turns out the aging process is deceiving, it has something to do with the passage of time. Time actually is a constant thing, it is we who determine the speed at which time travels, if you want it to move fast it will spite you and move slow and if you want it to move slowly it will pass at phenomenal speeds, standing still is something it never does. Now that you understand how time works you can apply it to the aging process.

     When you are twenty your skin is tight and smooth, there are no crows feet lines at the corners of your eyes, your hair is all one color even though some people may dye it different colors. The muscles are firm, the eyes bright and all the joints work properly without complaint, your outlook on life is great. 

     Somewhere along the way, and it differs for everyone, things change, slowly at first but they change. Lines or creases in the skin start to appear on the face, they are called crow's feet and smile / frown lines, your skin takes on the texture of crepe paper. Bruises appear on your arms and the backs of your hands, obviously you hit something but you can't remember when or what. Grey hairs appear around the temples, some people's hair starts to thin out around 30, hair lines recede,  bald spots may appear and grow larger.  Later on you start to slow down and that causes the loss of muscle tone and maybe a small bulge in the tummy or you develop a really big tummy, when you stand up loud popping sounds explode from the knees or other joints. Time is slowly taking it's toll on the body and there is nothing you can do about it, you may forestall some of it with changes to the diet and exercise, maybe a little tummy tuck or tightening up the sagging skin in various places but nothing will  change the fact that you are getting old.

     All of these things happened to me and like most people I failed to see it happening, my brain denied what my body was trying to tell it and that often resulted in sore muscles and aching  joints. I have come to know the throbbing of arthritis, the snap, crackle and pop of worn out joints. Getting down on my knees and back up again can sometimes be an effort in futility and the reason I'm actually looking forward to knee replacement. After all of the pain and agony of the aging process the brain continues to say "sure you can do that, you've been doing it for years", I'm still waiting for the time when the body has the sense to override the brain. 

     And then there are the issues of memory loss, hearing loss and changes to other bodily functions. Sometimes it can get downright frustrating to walk into a room and wonder why you are there or trying to hold a conversation when you stumble trying to remember a word that is the key to the whole sentence. Kay frequently looks at me with an amazed look and says "don't you remember me telling you ........." and my answer is often "no" .

     Despite all of the issues with getting older I can highly recommend it, for one thing it is better than the alternative. I like this life so much that I have decided to stick around for another twenty years or so. I think I have a chance, I'm still standing on my own two feet, I don't spend my days in waiting rooms or take large quantities of pills. What I do have are grand kids that I want to see grow older, Kay and I have places to go and things to do and I have an Uncle Paul who turns 92 this year, I figure if he can make it that far I can too, only time will tell and as far as I know time is something I may have a lot of.