The Great Greats

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

There Was A Time When

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


   

Hand Me Downs

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

A Quarters Worth Of Fun

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

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









 
















   

Not Long Ago

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

More Fish Stories

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



                                             ______________________________________


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



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


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


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



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







 




























   


   

My first Job

     Like any young kid I wanted things that cost money but money was not easy to come by in the 1950's . Unlike some kids I did not get an allowance although sometimes an Uncle or Grandparent would slip me a nickle or dime to buy candy. Brother Pat and I tried mowing lawns , we would get $5.00 for a lawn but Dad stopped us when it cost him money replacing blades and other repairs to the mower. We sometimes collected coke bottles and turn them in for their deposit of three cents each.
     My big chance came when Dad got me a job as a sack boy at C&S Food Store where he worked. Everything was new to me and as Dad's son I had to be on my P's & Q's. Basically I worked weekends, holidays, and school vacations, I was paid fifty cents an hour. I rode to work with Dad, worked till he was done then rode home with him except for occasional side trips to Grady's place on the river.
     My primary job was to bag groceries at the checkout counter, back then we had only paper bags and customers were picky about how the groceries were put into the bag. Don't make the bags to heavy for the women, be sure the bread is on top, and double bag all items that might generate moisture and fall through the bag.
     When things were slow I was taught to stock the shelves, put out fresh produce, restock the dairy case with eggs and milk, I also unloaded and checked in new stock then learned to run the cash register - the old kind with all of the buttons that had to be individually punched. I had to know how to do math ( in my head ), how much one can of peas cost when the price was three cans for sixty six cents and when the customer handed me thirty dollars to pay their bill of twenty three dollars and forty eight cents and the machine didn't tell me how much change to give, I had to figure that myself.
     This was my first real exposure to the adult world and working side by side with adults and dealing with the general public. I worked with some great people, met and even got to know some real characters of the general public.
     The owner of the store was a guy named Pat Sanford, he was the "S" in C&S, I never met the "C". Everybody called him Pat, he was a veteran of WWII, I understood that he was in B-17 bombers in Europe and had to bail out at one point. He broke both of his arms in the bail out and they never set right so he walked around unable straighten his arms.
     Charlie was in charge of the stock, he made up the stock orders each week then restocked the shelves, he was also the assistant manager. Charlie wood come to work every day wearing a suit with bow tie and fedora hat, he would go into the back room and remove his jacket and hat put on a white apron and a paper hat which was supplied by Colonial Bread and had their name on it, the hat was shaped like the ones soldiers wore. Charlie was very mild mannered and had a beautiful wife named Mamie.
     Wayne and Dickie were two guys in their early twenties, Wayne started in produce and Dickie started in stock. These two guys were best buddies, when work was over for the day they left together and went on double dates together, got drunk together and came in the next morning hung over together. Dad took a liking to both of them, they became his fishing and drinking buddies, the three of them seemed to get into some sort of mischief  on a daily basis. Dad trained both of them to be butchers and they were quite good.
     As with any business there were employees who would start work but wouldn't last too long. One of these was a butcher who was Dad's assistant, his name was John. John was quite the character, in addition to being a good butcher he would spend his off time fishing for turtles, actually fishing is really not the correct term, he didn't use a rod and reel he used his bare hands.
     When the streams and creeks were swollen and overflowing with muddy rain water the turtles would crawl head first into holes in the banks and wait for calmer waters. John would come along and stick his hand in the hole and grab the turtle by the tail, pull it out and throw it on the bank. Most of the turtles were snapping turtles that could easily chew a boat paddle in half  but there were some soft shell turtles also. John would butcher the turtles and eat the meat which everybody says taste like chicken .
     John gained notoriety when the local newspaper ran a story about him complete with pictures. There was John standing in front of his fireplace with eight to ten highly polished shells hanging above the mantel, they ranged in size from six to eight inches in diameter with the largest being at least two feet in diameter.
     I never knew why but John didn't last too long, he was fired, rumor was he stole steaks and other meat products.
     Then there were the customers, they came in all shapes and sizes and from all walks of life, some were steady customers while others just happened to stop by on their way to wherever.
     Elmer Craig was a Major in the Tennessee State Patrol, was the only Major in the Tennessee State Patrol, he was also the Governors body guard and went everywhere with him. Back then Governors could hold the office for one term then step down and wait for the next Governor to finish his term so they could run again. There were two Governors who held the office in that manor for some years, when Elmer's Governor got into office Elmer would take over the bodyguard position as a Major, when the other governor was in office Elmer would be sent back to patrol duty as a Captain.
     When the Governor was in town Elmer would stop in and have Dad cut several T-Bone steaks two inches thick for a barbecue at the Governor's mansion. Elmer retired as a Major a few years later and went to work at a bank where I went to work, a few years after that he committed suicide, we never knew why. An intersection at Lebanon Rd. and Stewarts Ferry Pike is now called the Elmer Craig Memorial Intersection.
     There was this Lady who was one of Dad's customers, she had been doing business with him for years, nobody could cut meat for her but Dad. She was a caterer and would fill two grocery carts with food for her catering jobs. Every year for as long as Dad worked for C&S she would bake him the most delicious coconut cake, Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without one. Linda developed her taste for coconut cake when she lived with my parents while I was in Vietnam, her taste for coconut cake continued til her passing.
     There was this one customer who would come into the store every now and then even though he had been told to never come back. The guy was a little strange, sorta nerdy looking. He would walk into the store, pull a grocery bag from a checkout stand and start walking around filling the bag with groceries he would then walk out the front door without paying. He was caught several times and even turned over to the police but he kept coming back. Ya gotta admire his perseverance.
     Late Friday and Saturday nights brought out all kinds of strange people, people we would see during the week as ordinary often became extraordinary on Saturday night. The store had posted hours of operation but Pat wasn't one to pass up a dollar so as long as there were customers in the store we were open. It was strange to see men and women stagger in about three sheets in the wind smelling like a brewery on Saturday night then see these same people dressed in all their finery on their way to Mass at the Catholic Church behind the store on Sunday morning. No need to worry though, after confession, three Hail Mary's and four Our Father's they were ready for a new week. This not to say that such behavior on Friday and Saturday nights was solely a Catholic thing, there were some Baptist, Methodist and Church of Christ mixed in also.
     There was a young boy of about eight or nine who came in several times one summer and bought ice cream for himself and a friend, he paid for them with Indian Head Pennies which were rare and collectible. Who ever was on the register recognized the pennies and quickly swapped them for the Wheat Pennies of the day. One day a man came in to talk to Pat about his son who was buying ice cream with Indian Head Pennies, He begged Pat to please get the pennies and hold them, turns out the boy was his son and had been into Dad's coin collection.
     People would come into the store and gather up several items in their hands then discover they didn't have enough hands or Moms found out that one of their little ones had placed something in the cart that was not needed so they would stick  these unwanted items wherever they could find a spot. We were always finding things out of place. One night a man and his wife or girlfriend came in, the man was not in a good mood and at some point the lady had picked up a half gallon of milk. When the man saw the milk he was for some reason upset, instead of taking the milk back to the dairy case he just grabbed it and threw the carton in the air, it landed in the meat case and burst. Dad's assistant John was manning the meat dept that night and got so ticked off he started yelling and the couple ran out of the store. Milk in the meat case made a hell of a mess.
     My first time in the adult world was quite an experience , I learned a lot which I feel helped me later. I guess the first job was sorta like the big fish, first date, first kiss - some things you just don't forget.