Life, People good and different

The first adult outside the family I remember was a ventriloquist in Shelby, NC, I was 4 years old. He had a small trailer. I only remember faintly when he took his dummy out of the suit case and put him on his knee, it came alive.  Later in life I did the same thing.

(This is our friend David and his partner Rusty, very famous performer now,they een sing a duet)

About 3 years later I met a fascinating man who was actually a light blue color. Mama said he had been a blue baby that lived. I think he was in his mid-20’s when he died. The color and his intense desire to learn was obvious to a 2^nd grader. I know now he was appreciating every day, medically he was not ‘supposed’ to be alive.

Then there was a friend of mama’s. Hattie Padgett, a nurse. She was a character and fun. Shirl whispered to me, "Hattie cannot use the bathroom like me and you. She has a bag her ‘business’ goes into." My first introduction to a colostomy. That must have been amazing in 1947.

(This how Wooly looked to me)

 We moved again. This guy was scary to a 4^th grader. Daddy called him ‘Wooly’.  I don’t know how daddy knew him. He did not believe in owning a car, although he would ride in one. The time I really remember was when daddy stopped on the road and gave him a ride. Shirl and I were in the front seat. Dad told us to get in the back seat and Wooly sat up front. He looked wild, a giant beard and his hair long and frizzly.  He sounded like a real person, but looked like a caveman.

In the last few years of my life, I met John. We lived on Lake Dora. John had a great personality. He was a retired Fire Chief from Miami. Our wives hit it off and we had dinners together. I did not golf but friend Wayne golfed with John. Everyone loved John, he was so full of life, a tall handsome dude. The firemen MUSTA loved him as a boss.

We sold and returned to the road. We lost contact with John. Friend Wayne called one day and told Sherry, John had taken his own life. Shocked isn’t the word.

No one can explain that to my satisfaction, WHY?

At our age, we lose friends and family.  But some things of life are baffling.

Then there was Fred Brannen who commented here on this blog. He had battled cancer. E-mailed to tell me it was back.

(Fred and Frances when we first met them he was in the Coast Guard, I in the USAF)

Frances his sweet wife told me that once that she and her daughter were in the kitchen and something funny came up and they laughed out loud. THEN from Fred's room they heard, “Hey in there, I’m trying to die in here. I’ve never done this before but I think we are supposed to be quiet!”

(Fred playing and singing to Sherry and I at his cabin way back in the Smokies)

She said, “Frankie and I went into Fred’s room, they all laughed, cried and hugged. A couple days later Fred accomplished his goal. Fred was a world traveler, minister, missionary and a dear friend, I miss him. In life we meet some great folk.

Nite Shipslog

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1948 Tucker

 Above 1938 Plymouth below a 1948 Nash

North Carolina Red dirt (clay)

I Put this entry on hours ago and it does not go to Blogger.

NC is blessed or cursed with red soil.  When it is dry it becomes so hard you can drive nails in it.  I have driven nails and stretched string for the back hoe to dig footers for a house. The nails had to be pulled out with a hammer.

When it is wet it is slick as grease and will RUIN anything made of white cloth.  A red bank is great to pour water on and slide down it.  Just the other day we saw about 5 boys planning in the RED mud, knowing some parents are gonna be UPSET!

White clothes and red mud

Folks do grow stuff in this soil.  Cotton used to grow as well as tobacco.  Not much of either anymore with the foreign input and health hazards.

(This is not a great picture of the crossing)

When walking here we cross a main rail road track and a spur line.  The Spur line is where we met Joe on our walk.  The spur line was built in 1955/56.  It is used to haul coal to Plant Allen, a Duke power plant.

At that time I owned a 1948 Chevy and my friend Bill Muse owned a 1950 Studebaker. Bill spotted this exact crossing when the bed had just been put in. It was about 40 feet wide RED DIRT hard and dusty. No rails or cross ties laid. Bill found me and challenged me to a race. Till Bill passed away we never agreed on who won or who quit first. That was lost in all the fun.

But with no one around us two had a ball, drag racing and flat out racing on that soon to be Spur line RR bed.  I think of Bill each time Sherry and I walk across those tracks.

Nite Shipslog

PS:  The older I get the more memories mean to me.

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The '50 Stud. I always joked with Bill, "I couldn't tell were you were coming or going."

This could easily be a road in NC in times past. (some places now)

Walking in Sherry's Hometown, Belmont

Sherry always fusses about us 'not' walking once we are here near family and friends. We are pretty regular walkers on the road, but not here. SOOOOO we have tried a couple walks and finally settled on a little over 4 miles and NO busy roads.

We start on our street, a small up grade.

 We leave the motor home and head up this grade.  

 WE pass what  call a Shetland pony. Stella loves to see him.

 We are greeted ever day with a dog I call Black eye. He runs this race about 5 times as we walk by. He never barks.

 The cars you see in the distance are 'parked in the road' they will be there for an hour, effectively stopping traffic on this road. It is mothers and dads picking up kids at school. They park there 45 minutes before school is dismissed.

 Up past the school re make a right about 2/10 of a mile we pass Flowers Court, a public housing project and start down this hill. It is much steeper than it appears. This road was not here when Sherry was a kid, and the family used to walk thru these woods to get to Grandma's house.

 Down the hill we just passed and a right turn we look down at the bluegrey roofed house. That was Sherry's Grandma's house.

 As we cross these tracks our backs are to Grandma's house. The short strip of road crossing this railroad track is named 'Chief Henson Street'. That name rings a bell, he was chief of police in Belmont and lived in the house we now own and are parked behind as I type.

 Looking to our right as we cross the tracks, there is an over pass in the distance we will cross it in about ten minutes and look back this way.

 Next we have a side walk, it goes around the city soccer fields.  If I liked walking circles we could walk around this 8 times and get out 4 miles in. But that is boring to me. I like to see something different when I can.

 Next we pass some remodeled Mill Houses. They are very nice and attractive. I always compliment the owners when they are out.

 At the end of that street we look left and see the E Belmont Presbyterian Church where Sherry's dad attended. But we turn right.

 WE always look immediately to our left at these huge Scaly Bark trees. They are about 6' at the base. Sherry's cousin, who was raised near here, says they were this size when he was a kid over 80 years ago.

 Now we cross the Bridge over the RR tracks. This is looking to out right were we crossed a few minutes ago.

 We were here one day and a lady in a city truck stopped, you could tell she was wondering what we were about? I told her we were walking to see some of Belmont's scenic sites. She laughed.  This is the sewer treatment plant.

 WE pass this plant, it is a fiber distributions center. The building must be fifteen or twenty acres.

This is the last big run a fairly isolated long road.  No side walks or houses but plenty room on the sides to get out of the way of the occasional truck or car.

 A p/u passed us. stopped and backed up . It was Pastor Joe of the Unity Baptist Church. Our Son Jack used to be his Music director, later they hired Jack's sons, Stephen and Joshua to do the music. It was always a pleasure to see Joe.  

At the end of the long stretch me turn and head up by the yellow house you see. It was once red brick and belonged to Sherry's Brother Lefty Harris, and his family. 

 The road goes down hill from here to our house.

Nearing home we see Black Eye ready to run that fence as we walk by and talk to him.
 We have walked a pleasant 4.25 miles.
Thanks for coming along.
Nite Shipslog
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The Bath (some pictures are gross, not xxx just sorta gross)

A Lawyer  leaving the Country club  was approached by a man asking for money?  He was dirty, needed a shave and his clothes were ragged.

“If I give you some money will you buy beer?”  ‘No sir, I quit!’

“Will you play golf?” ‘No sir,’ (lauging)

“Will you go somewhere and buy a bath and shave?”  ‘Nope, Imma buy a hamburger.”

“Come home with me and I will give you  $20 and a good meal.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I want to show my wife a man who doesn't drink, play golf or bath.”

Bathing… I don’t think boys particularly liked baths.  I have wondered if I had floating ducks and toys would I have liked it better. BUT, it all started when mama had us take a bath in the kitchen. She brought in one of her wash tubs. They were the galvanized tubs used washing clothes.  She heated water and the baths started. Pecking order was: Babies, girls and then boys.  Hinting that the boys were the dirtiest.

I was fortunate, we had a bathtub when I was in the 4^th grade.  Sherry did not have one until we were married and moved into our little trailer with a small bath tub with hot and cold running water.

Since then Baths have varied, some unique. The Sauna, steam bath (once or twice), hot springs (North Carolina, Texas & Yukon). Then there was also the Hot tub and the most used the shower.

Today I saw pictures of an Iranian who had not bathed in 60 years. 

He smoked cigarettes folks gave him, when no cigarettes are available,  he smokes dried feces. 

 He said he was happier than most folks because he had NO possessions. He survives eating  Carrion.

Us boys don't like baths, but this dude carried it to the extreme!

Have you always had a bathtub with hot and cold running water?

Nite Shipslog

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This was the Chrysler Forward look of 1956 top is a DeSoto, the last two are the Dodge.

Father Time

I had forgotten that this past New Years I was thinking the old year is portrayed as an old guy with a long beard. Seems just a year ago he was pictured as a baby in a diaper, that don't work in my brain.  hahaha

The old statement, 'Time Waits for No Man' is an absolute. No matter if you are working, waiting or sleeping the seconds tick by.

Missed opportunities never return. There MAY or MAY NOT be new similar opportunities that come up, but the same one you missed will NEVER return.

(The old statement smell the roses is more important than youth knows.)

I smiled when I wrote that, I think it was the Kingston Trio that sang about the man 'Charlie' who didn't have the correct change to get off the Subway in Boston and he would "Never return, never return, and his fate is still unlearned , Poor old Charlie will ride forever neath the streets of Boston.........."

Anyway like Charlie, something missed, in reference to time, is gone forever. The exact water running under a bridge will never be seen there again, it is on down stream.

A lesson I learned at six year of age. We lived in Burington, NC and had traveled to Shelby, NC to see my brothers and sister who lived there. The road went within 3 miles of where dad's mama lived.  I remember like it was yesterday dad saying as we drove by the turn off to Granny's house, "I should go by and see mama, but we will stop next time."

When we arrived home the phone was ringing, it was dad's youngest brother, "Frank, mama is dying you need to get here as soon as possible,  to see her alive."

Of course we drove back immediately, but daddy never forgave himself for missing that opportunity. 

That was 71 years ago and I still remember it.  I have tried to follow my instincts, if I feel I should say or do something, I still try to do it.

If your inner person says, 'maybe you need to do/say-------' give it every consideration, it might be important to you or someone else.

Nite Shipslog

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Pillows, posture and names (reflections)

Sherry and I differ on pillows. for sleeping I like a thin pillow and she likes a fatter one.  Two pillows are sufficient for a queen size bed, methinks, but Sherry likes four.  She generally goes to bed before I do, and stacks three to use when reading. I think when she quits reading from 1-3 am, one of them goes to the bedside.

WE also have pillows 4 (cushions) on the couch.  They get in my way.  That must be a law, because the last motels we stayed in had 4 pillows per bed.

I wish I could get used to no pillow, but I just can't seem to hack it.  Since I sleep on my back I think it would be good for my posture. I don't like to slump, but I think I am beginning to slump more in my old age.

 Foy Mercer was the only man I have known  who stood erect into his 90's. I admired him, he even looked a little relaxed as he seemed to stand at attention.  He was also the only man I ever knew by the name of Foy.

Different names.  I just wrote an 'atta boy' letter for a guy named 'Athan' I checked thinking I had missed the 'N'.  Athan works at the VA Hospital He has been one of the most helpful people I have met at ANY business. He is one of those guys I just had to tell his superiors what a great job he was doing.

Nite Shipslog

PS:  This goes along with the mirrors (reflections) entry. Check the Mirrors 'using the rear view ones'(As Myra calls them), how are you doing on posture?  It really does not matter in the large scheme of things, it is just one of my personal concerns.
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 1936 ford rag top and a 1948 Desoto Business Coupe