Worms

Boy, am I popular or what?

I just received my 3rd notification in two days that Bell South Email as intercepted a virus by the name Storm Worm. Each email had a strange name, such as “ecard from a friend”.

It appears that the three (so far) are from three different sources.

I am not sure I should be mad somebody is trying to do my computer harm or gleeful because someone is noticing me.

Only 2% of Filed Items Will Be Retrieved

Uncle John’s Bathroom Almanac always has little interesting facts and statistics.

I read that 98% of what is filed will never be looked at or read or again. 98%!!!

Then in that case filing is a lot of work for no apparent reason.

Doing family research and looking at history, in a detached way, I am always cutting things out of the paper and filing them…. Or, if I was on the ball, I would be filing them.

Instead, I pile them in a tray to be filed. And when the tray over flows I put them in a box to be filed. The last time I counted there were slightly over a dozen printer paper sized boxes containing things to be filed. That is also why God invented basements.

To make the job not seem so overwhelming I have decided to file three things a day. And since I decided that, I have not missed a single day. That was two weeks ago.

That is why God made computers and hard drives. If what I clipped was worth any thing at all I scanned it or found it on- line through a newspaper and copied and pasted it and electronically filed it.

And from time to time, if an electronic files is getting big I transfer it to a CD and delete it.

Then someday I might read two percent of it – if I live long enough.

Fouts Family Cemetery, Macon County, NC

2 Cemeteries

Click on the pictures to make them larger. After you click on the picture above you can see why I named this picture “2 Graveyards”. On top of the hill we are standing is the Fouts Cemetery, and in the background in the valley is an auto junk yard.

The Fouts cemetery is just a couple miles north of Franklin in the Burningtown community. It is a beautiful area of rolling hills and small farms.

Some of my Ray ancestors’ children, male and female, married into the Fouts family. Chances are if I was to run into a Ray or a Fouts in Franklin, North Carolina, I would be a distant cousin to that person.



David Clingman Fouts is my first cousin, twice removed. He was a farmer and storekeeper.



J.R. Fouts. He is not listed in my genealogy records. I thought he has a unique marker.



John Harvey Fouts. He fought for the CSA in the War Between the States. His wife was my great grand aunt, Rebecca Ray. In the war John was a POW confined to Camp Chase, Ohio. Here is what I have on him in my notes:
John was a "carpenter of unusual ability, a great hunter and marksman that earned the respect and admiration of the Indians" And lived "all of his life side by side with the Cherokees"

And also, you can see the mysterious black ghost that keeps following behind me in cemeteries.



Joseph Fouts was a son of John Harvey and Rebecca Ray Fouts. He was my first cousin, twice removed.



Thomas Bragg Fouts is the same kin as Joseph Fouts, they are brothers. Thomas married Elizabeth Roland, a Trammell relative. Also Justice of the Peace Posey C. Wild married them. Posey was a war buddy with my great-grandfather William Trammell-Hunter. They fought together on Kennesaw Mountain, here in Marietta.



William R. Fouts was another CSA soldier. I have no information about him.



Chester Arthur Ray is my 1st cousin, twice removed.



Emeles Ray is the same relation as Chester Arthur Ray.

I am sure there are more relatives buried here, and I probably missed over them or couldn’t read their markers.



The highest point of Fouts’ Cemetery has a cross and a small building. The cross is studded with light bulbs. The cemetery is high on a hill or small mountain – you can tell that looking at the first photo that it is pretty high up. It must be a sight, late at night.

Two Items

1. Saturday Anna received a form letter from the Women’s Center of the local hospital telling her that her recent mammogram came back with no abnormalities and told her when she should get another one.

The same day, she received another letter from the same office, the Women’s Center of the local hospital politely scolding her for not having a schedule mammogram. They said their records indicated she had not had a mammogram and was over due for one.

I wonder if the two letters generated from two people sitting side by side in an office. If so, we will call the first one Right Hand and the other one Left Hand.


2. Also Dick Chaney was recently in the hospital. His pace maker had to be adjusted and it seems I heard something about a fibulator. A Fibulator? If a Fibulator helps create fibs, Dick doesn’t need it…. He does well without one. I wonder if they let George W. Bush be in charge while Dick was all drugged up. I doubt it.

I Hear Things In My Head

Like many people if I have just a hint of a movie before I realize it the music for that movie is playing in my head.

I guess a good example is “Rain Drops Keeps Falling On My head” from “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid”. And any musical from “Annie Get Your Gun” to “Westside Story”… I find myself humming the tunes of the show. Mention “Blackboard Jungle” and I get the beat of “Rock Around the Clock” in my head.

However, my mind plays tricks on me. Recently I watched some of “Grapes of Wrath” the Tivo copied… after I watched 15 minutes so and walked away I found myself humming Woody Guthrie’s “This Land Is Your Land”… which I don’t think was in the movie, but it should have been. And the next day I might watch 15 or 20 minutes more and again “This Land Is Your Land” played endlessly like a broken record for a while.

Which reminds me – not that it has anything to do with the subject – I’m sure Gabby Hayes was in “Grapes of Wrath”. I would recognize that toothless voice anywhere. However, looking over the stars I did not see him listed by Gabby Hayes or his real name John Hayes.

Another trick my mind plays: When I hear Gene Kelly”s “Singing in the Rain” I don’t think of Gene Kelly dancing and singing in the rain, and sloshing water. I think of “Clockwork Orange” and the hoodlums stomping and beating a man senseless.

Down Home at Old South BBQ

Friday we were in nearby Smyrna. The center of Smyrna’s downtown is about 5 miles south of Marietta’s downtown. Going to Smyrna is not what one would call going on a trip.

While there we ate at Old South Barbecue Restaurant. Old South will be 40 years old soon. Just after we were married we moved to Smyrna and within a short time Old South opened. It is in the neighborhood of plenty of smaller houses, probably what would be called starter houses today. In such a neighborhood meant a lot of neighborhood kids. I was amazed that while we was eating our meal different kids would drift in, walk over to the Coke dispenser and pout them a drink and run back out without saying anything.

One time for New Years Day Anna and I wanted black eye peas, greens, hog jowl, and cornbread. We called around to various restaurants asking if they were serving the tradition and I think only Old South came through.

Fairly recently I read on their website about the mama and pappa who started the business and now they have passed on and their children and their extended family runs the business.

Every time we have eaten there were cops and firemen there. Now, it has extended to the emergency crew too.

Their barbecue is deliciously smoked. The others items are typical country cooking kind of food.

When we arrived, about noon the other day in the front of back there was not a parking place. Just as we were about to leave, in front, a car pulled out, we pulled in. We were in front of the entrance door. A flip-style sign was hanging on the door’s window saying, “Closed. Sorry, please come again!”

That didn’t make sense. I saw people in the windows eating. I said that maybe they are having a private party. Two policeman came out the door putting toothpicks in their mouths.

We went in, just to see if they were opened or not. The cashier said, a big smiley happy “Hi! – go find yourself a place wherever you can.”

I asked them were they closed. She laughed and said if they were they forgot to tell her.

I said the closed sign was on the door. She said, “Oh, I forgot to flip that thing around again!”

Evidently we were the first to notice it.

We found us a table. It was next to a table full of military officers. The drink lady (family member) got our drinks for us. I overhead the waitress happily tell a table of two working men, probably construction, that “Everything is fantastic!”

Anna and I went over and over the menu trying to decide what to get… and while she was talking I think I may have lost tract and started watching some people close by.
The waitress came by for our orders. Anna gave her order and while she was talking I noticed a woman in the next room, but within eye-shot, that had a very low-cut and her boobs were too erect looking. I was wondering if she was wearing a Victoria’s Secret Bra or something… if so, you couldn’t tell it.

Then the waitress asked me what I wanted, I said a bbq port sandwich. Anna interrupted and me said, “You know I ordered a plate don’t you?” No, I was looking at tits.

So, I ordered a plate too. She asked “Pulled or chop?”

I said “chop”. Anna asked me was I sure, I always ordered pulled and she always ordered chopped. I said, “Ok, pulled.”

The waitress laughed and said to Anna, “Why don’t you order for him? You know what he wants more than he does.”

They still have that same down-hominess they had almost 40 years ago. I felt like taking off my shoes and making myself at home.

Marietta Picture Again

click on the picture for details.

Here we go again!

This is the same picture of Marietta that I posted a couple days ago. However, this one has more stuff in it around the four edges.

The picture below was scanned on my scanner, which I think is 8x10. However, it was a 11x14 picture which made some of vital childhood memories chopped off. For example my paper route and one of the first supermarkets (Krogers) in town, which a big library now stands in its place.

Yesterday I went to Kinko's and had them scan it on their big scanners. I brought along my little stick-stick-memory-thing for them to put the results on. The nice young lady asked me I wanted it on a PDF file and I said yes... so, after she did it I said I changed my mind, I want it on JPEG. She converted the PDF file to JPEG. So Walla!

When I pulled out my wallet to pay she said I didn't owe anything. She said I furnished my own saving device so there were no charge.

I feel sightly guilty. She was nice and polite and I was slightly demanding.

Opening As Nike Shoes Endorser

It is official now, Nike has suspended the endorsement deal it had with Michael Vick. It hasn’t been that long ago that Nike was paying another Michael (Jordan) for endorsements. In fact, if what I read is correct, Nike was paying Michael Jordan more money to say he like Nike than its entire labor payroll.

Which do you think they could live without – an endorsement or the labor that made those shoes?

Well, my name is not Michael but I think I can say Nike shoes are the best – for a price of course.

Since there have been cost of living increases with inflation and all that I will have to charge more for my endorsement than they paid either Michael. To get up enough money I think it is only right, for the sake of their company, to cut the workers’ pay, they probably won’t even notice. But even if they do, what are they going to do - quit? Haw Haw Haw.

B'rer Willow

My 87 year old neighbor Jim faithfully feeds the little critters every morning on his driveway. He spreads sunflower seed out and chipmunks, squirrels, and rabbits slowly and cautiously come up and nibble at the food spread. He even has some of the critters that will eat out of his hand, He is proud of that.

I think he thinks of himself as a white Uncle Remus. He looks kind of like him too. I think he imagines walking around in his yard singing “Zippidi-do-dah” with Mr. bluebird sitting on his shoulders and little rabbits, squirrels, and chipmunks happily smiling and jumping ahead of him in joyous mood.

There is a hawk in the neighborhood. One time he almost swooped down and got one of the chipmunks. Jim had a fit. He says he is going to shoot the hawk and mentions over and over how the hawk nearly ate one of his babies.

Yesterday I had some housework to do so I let Willow play by herself outside. A couple of times I stuck my head out on the deck and hollered her name. I heard her tags jingle underneath the deck. I thought she was lying in the shade under the deck enjoying life.

She was.

Finally, I went through the basement door to check on her and saw her lying on her stomach busily chewing on something, I thought probably a stick.. I walked closer to take it away. We are afraid a sharp edge stick in her stomach might do some damage. When I got above her looking down what I thought was a stick was the last gooey mess of the end of squirrel’s tail.

I don’t know if she caught and ate the whole squirrel or just ended up with the tail and its roots.

I am not sure reprimanding her would do any good. That is pure instinct. God gave her that quick hunter’s ability. Well, I guess the hawk could use that argument with Jim too, while dodging bullets.

Oh, me.

Marietta Square - years ago

This is an aerial view of the Square in Marietta that I have talked so much about. I think it was taken about 1958, based on structures no longer there and so-forth.

I went to the Marietta History Museum yesterday to buy a couple of books for my mother-in-law for her upcoming birthday.

I read in the paper the day before that the Museum was hosting hundreds of kids that morning to demonstrate some Marietta History at 10:30. I decided I had to be there at 10:00am and out of there in minutes before being surrounded by a mob of screaming kids.

I have a tendency to be places early. Even early for me. If I decided I am going to be someplace at a given time I allow myself time incase the traffic is backed up because of a wreck or something. I was outside the building at 9:45. They don’t open until 10.

The Marietta Museum is on the second floor of the Kennesaw House. The Kennesaw House was a hotel back in the 1800s. Andrew Raiders (Great Locomotive Chase) spent the night there before they stole the General locomotive. I think it is 3 stories had. Before the Civil War it was 4 stories high but the 4th level was destroyed during the war.

Outside the building was a young lady dressed in period costume. She was attaching balloons all over the place. She had to pacify the upcoming onslaught of kids. I asked her was the museum opened yet. She looked at her watch and said, “Yeah, go ahead.”

I didn’t notice her watch, I wonder if it was a watch for the period she was dressing for. If it was digital, then I am sure a little kid would call her attention to it. But does the watch work good. I know it was 9:45 and they don’t open until 10:00 and the fact she looked at her watch and said, “Yeah, go ahead.’ If her watch isn’t working correctly, then at 10:15 she will think it is 10:30 and she might stomp her foot and storm off in a flutter because no kids have shown up.

I’m sure it worked itself out.

Up in the museum people were rushing around getting ready for the kids coming. They didn’t notice me being there earlier than I should have. I went to the book for sale area and picked out the two books on local history and went to the counter where the cash register is. Someone saw that I was standing there ready to purchase something with my wallet out and they hollered for a certain person to come from the back room. A Far-Eastern Indian man materialized. He rang up the two books and deducted 20% because it was their “Christmas In July Sale” that all the merchants of the Square were involved in.

Then I saw the aerial photo of the Square in full color. I looked at the details and there were things in the picture that has been torn down or added to. I had to have it – at a 20% discount of course.

It is a 11x14 print. I scanned it it home. There are several inches around the whole thing that went unscanned. A lot of things important in my early life were chopped off. Hopefully in the next day or so I will go to Kinko's and scan it again, this time getting it all and then what? Do I email it to myself or bring along a CD or what? Maybe I better call them.

The Square is called such because the streets go around Glover Park, which is Square shape… and then the merchants, facing the park, then the side streets, a block away on each side… it is king of like a square shape splash.

The park has since been redone to look like a typical hometown U.S.A. park with brick paths, sculptured bushes, and so on…. The park in this picture was a hangout for drunk men drinking out of paper sacks, jack-leg preachers preaching standing on park benches, and so on… like a real small town park. Now, it is a make believe small town park.

Actress Joann Woodward, who spent much of her formative years in Marietta and Paul Newman donated a good deal of money to refurbish the park.

You can see the old courthouse that us natives wail because it is gone. Up near the top center is a big house-looking building that was Waterman Street School I spent 7 years there in constant trouble. The building is now torn down and replaced with a Salvation Army building.

Sometimes I hate progress.

The 1st Methodsit Church Cemetery, Franklin, NC

This is a marker the cemetery of the First Methodist Church in Franklin, North Carolina.

It is my g-g-g-g- grandfather William Trammell’s marker (1752-1843). William fought in the Revolutionary War. His arm was sliced off during the Battle of Kings Mountain.

I figured William was buried in Franklin, because that is where he died. He died in care of his son Jacob B. Trammell, who was a resident of Franklin.

The late Thelma Swanson lived in Franklin. She and I swapped much genealogy information. She wrote me a letter (she didn’t have a computer) telling me that she read a listing of the people buried in the First Methodist Cemetery of Franklin, and William Trammell was one of the residents.

Soon after that Anna went to Ohio on business. While she was there on business I took a few days off and took the boys to points in North Carolina, which included Franklin.

We visited Thelma and she gave us a relative tour of Franklin. Also we went to the First Methodist Cemetery and looked around. We could not find William Trammell’s grave. We narrowed it down to a few old markers that it could possibly be. We decided to go someplace and get a pencil, charcoal, or a crayon, or something and also some sketching paper, come back to the cemetery and rub the stone.

You place the paper over the letters and work your whatever back and forth. After you are finished, you usually have the letters readable on the paper you put up against the carvings.

We went to a K-Mart and bought our supplies and stopped at a Burger King and had lunch.

We were probably away from the First Methodist Cemetery slightly over an hour – around lunch time. During that time the sun shifted about an hour’s worth – first it was approaching directly overhead, and then by the time we got back it was leaving the position of directly overhead.

Because of the sun shift, it presented a different light on the subject. William Trammell’s marker was very readable. When we drove up it seemed to be glowing in the shade. The way the light came through the tree foliage and also reflected from a few windshields of cars parked in the church’s parking lot all worked in harmony. I felt it was divine help.

I thought this Celtic marker looked kind of unique too.

First Dog Obedience Class

Yesterday we went to our first of six dog obedience classes. The first meeting we did not bring Willow. We were told not to. It was for humans only. The instructor wanted to tell us what she plans to accomplished and what we should buy, etc. She didn’t want any “cat calls” from dog-students that first time.

She knows her stuff. She seems to know the insides working of a dog’s mind well and what buttons to press. I think we will gain a lot by this class.

The instructor emphasized to be on time. In fact, to make sure we were on time she upped the reporting time to 6:45. That way, we will be in our seats at 7:00 when the meeting really starts.

She also told us of different places nearby to park. Naturally, we were there at 6:05 and had our pick of where to park. We picked the first place in her places to park, in the visitors’ parking lot of the Atlanta Humane Society. When we parked a man walked up and asked could he help us. We told him we were there for dog obedience classes and he politely told us we couldn’t park there, we would have to park on down. So, we moved. Sitting by ourselves in a big empty parking lot we read the letter again. It told us we could park the first place we parked, and after it overflowed we could park where we were now sitting. The man didn’t know what he was talking about.

We drove back up to the first parking lot and parked there. The heck with “you can’t park here.”

At the meeting by 7:00 it was going according to the instructor’s plan. It looked like we were all seated. It was mostly husband and wives, a few singles, and one young teenager with his mother. I counted near 25 at one point and more came aftereards. She started.

About 10 minutes into her lecture in barged a lady. The rules didn’t apply to her. Also, she had a comment to say about everything the instructor said and felt the need to comment when someone asked a question. She took off her shoes and propped her feet on the chair in front of her, by a husband and wife team. She had bright shiny red toenails.

I wonder how the lady with the painted red nails would do if she was thrown in a pit with a member of the Bad News Kennels?

One of the things I learned at this class: Dogs, instinctual, believe in a hierarchical social structure. They believe in pecking order. They believe I get to eat before they do. But they also expect me to plot out our course and “bring home the bacon”, so to speak. They need a boss to keep them organized and tell them what to do.

I break out into a sweat just thinking of such a responsibility. Willow is looking at me for guidance? Shit! I wonder if I can fake it?

I think our instructor had some acting experience. At times she took on the role of a dog and thought out loud (for our benefit) and had a huge invisible master she was heeding to – she played the role good. Most of the people laughed. I felt like standing up and clapping.

Here are some conflicting statistics with no conclusion, just an observation: The dog classes are held just about in the heart of Atlanta, probably less than 1.5 miles to the center of pulse of Atlanta. Atlanta is over well 50% Afro-American. What percent of Afro-Americans came to the dog obedience class? 0%.

Who Ordered the Rocket Boom?

A few weeks ago without warning our Tivo has a new selection that just came in. We had almost 200 episodes of Rocketboom to watch or delete. I chose the latter. It took me several day to delete them because I have more to do than sitting in front of the Telly deleting Rocketboom.

These were from a previous year.

Plus I kept getting one a day of the current Rocketboom.

Rocketboom is little humorous one to five or six minutes quickies on various ways of life and little funny things in the news. The only reporter is a British lady that seems to mostly report from New York City.

About a week after I deleted all the Rocketboom articles over a hundred more came in all at one time from another year – maybe one was 2006 and the other one was the crossover from 2006 to 2007 – I really didn’t notice, I was just busy deleting unsolicited stuff that invaded our Tivo.

A day or two I received an email from Rocketboom thanking me for my support and they are amazed how great their little mini-reports are being received.

Maybe that means they haven't received any complaints. And they didn't receive any complaints because nobody knows how to complain electronically when the complaining means are not available.

Maybe most people are like me, they don’t know how to make those blame thing quit coming.

Lenny Who?

In the paper this morning in the Celebrity Flashback secion it said on this date Jack Parr made his debut as host of NBC’s “Tonight Show” in 1957; Lenny Bruce died of a drug overdose at age 40 in 1966; and Mama Cass Eliott was found dead in London in 1974.

Lenny Who? You might ask.

And someone might respond by saying, “Oh yeah, he is mentioned in the radio news part on Simon and Garfunkel’s recording ‘Wednesday Morning A.M.’”.

I am not sure I heard of Lenny Bruce until 1963 when I was stationed at NAS Lakehurst, N.J., when my new friend Dick introduced me to The Realist magazine, edited and published by Paul Krassner.

The Realist was the first magazine that I had ran into that used Freedom of the Press to a maximum. I really enjoyed reading The Realist for many more years until it dwindled itself out of existence.

In those early issues of The Realist Paul Krassner really had a lot to say about Lenny Bruce and how he was mistreated by the law, judges, priests, and just about everybody else of authority.

Lenny Bruce was a comedian. I think he was probably the first to be labeled a “a sick comedian”. He took up issues that everybody else were afraid to talk about – such as has unbalanced racial equality was, war, authority, the church, and etc. He poked fun of sacred cows. He didn’t hesitate to use four-letter words if the situation in his comedian bit called for it.

Some believed he opened the way for people expressing themselves so freely in all forms of art today… which, I suppose, some could argue that is bad. But who really knows?

Li’l Miss Sunshine at Wal-Mart

Saturday in the grocery department of Wal-Mart I noticed a mother and three young girls staying close behind her.

The oldest girl was probably about twelve or thirteen, plain looking with glasses. The next oldest looked to be about eight or ten, plump, also with glasses – she favored Little Miss Sunshine. The youngest looked to be about six or seven and not really paying attention to anybody, but was following as she was told to.

Just as I saw the group the oldest girl put her arm around the next oldest and gave her “buddy” squeeze. The one that was squeezed turned her face around to face her squeezer and had no expression at all but did study her face.

I think the oldest was a visitor of the family, probably a cousin, and she wanted to show her friendship to the girl closer to her age… to show they could be buddies.

And the Little Miss Sunshine girl probably didn’t know what to think. I don’t think she is used to physical affection and didn’t know quiet how to react.

I think if we keep an eye for her memoirs that will probably be published in about 40 years she will revisit that moment at Wal-Mart and explain to us what went through her mind.

Willow the Regal Bitch

click means bigger!

Willow is very hard to photograph. She has a black face, dark eyes, and a black nose. So most of the photographs of her face is just a black spot shaped like a dog’s head.

To get a good picture one just has to be patient. Yesterday we were reading on the deck and I snapped a few pictures. I like the one above and also the one below.

The story of the one below: Next door there are 3 little small yapping dogs. They line up at the fence and bark at Willow almost every time she goes in the back yard.

But, when they are not there Willow misses them and she studies their yard to see if she can pick up their movement. There she sitting and watching for them now.

Untapped Market ? I doubt it.

Something that is becoming much a too common scene around here is a cross on the side of the road. It is like a “x” marking where a person was hit and killed by a car.

On almost every main road in Cobb County it is a rare stretch of road that doesn’t have at least one cross on the side of the road. I am proud to say that where I live, Sandy Plains Road, there is no cross from one end to the other, which is probably close to an eight to ten miles. I picture someone new to this area driving the length of Sandy Plains Road driving maybe from his home in Roswell to downtown Marietta thinking, “something is missing on this road… I can’t put my finger on it…”

Not long ago I saw a woman using her boldness or ignorance almost made Sandy Plains Road conform to the current trend. Almost. She walked across Sandy Plains Road with more concern adjusting her radio or MP3player than the cars’ breaks screeching to avoid hitting her from both ways.

There are many people that are getting killed on the roads and crosses mark the spot, as near as possible, that the death occurred. Some crosses are non-pretentious crosses and some have a flair about them that draws your eye to them.

On Barrett Parkway there is a place on the side of the road near the Old 41 Highway that about five crosses are standing. Sad.

On nearby Chastain Road it appears that someone even planted a tree in the medium to mark the spot. The base of the tree is adorned with red, white, and blue flowers.

All the crosses represents a sudden unpredicted snuff of one’s life and sadness of the survivors.


I see a demand. Not every relative has the energy and know-how to put out a good shrine in their loved one’s memory. That is where a company I am formulating in my head comes in A company that can quickly put up a shrine to your specifications and get out of there before someone is paying someone else to put a shrine in their memory.

First and foremost you need to have a counsel session with the victim’s loved one – the one paying – and discuss just how much he or she is willing to spend. Then you can have a check off list. With flowers? What kind of flowers? To show you are an ethical businessman recommend artificial flowers – they are cheaper and last longer – after all, this “an’t no funeral”. Illuminated? A picture of the deceased? Maybe his favorite ball cap anchored on the top of the cross? Did he wear his ball cap backwards? If so, do you want the ball cap on the cross turned backwards? Any Bible quotes wood burned onto the cross? Do you want the cross varnished? What about using pressure treated wood? It is more expensive but will cause the cross to be more durable. Was he a sports fan of a certain team? Do you want the cross to be wearing a tee-shirt of that team?

I tell you there is a market – unless it has been tapped already.

Walking With Willow

This is little things on walks with Willow the past week.

A chipmunk ran by and Willow made gave a tug on the leash to chase it but I tugged it and told her “Don’t, it will just taste like more.”

A shapely young lady ran by us and said, “Cute!”
Of course she meant the dog, but I immediately said in a way that I comprehended she was talking about me said, “Thanks!”
She laughed. So did Willow.

In a new subdivision with newly cut streets and no houses yet we came upon 12 Canadian Geese standing, apparently on a rest stop. The geese were divided into two groups, each having six members. The two groups were about fifteen feet part. Do flocks have sub-flocks. Or were there actually two groups who decided just happened to stop at the same area. I asked Willow did she think there were separate unrelated groups or two sub-groups making a larger group. She looked at me like she was saying, “Who cares?”

Then, I was thinking each year the geese base their flights on memory of the oldest. Say they landed in this subdivision with no houses – just new streets. And suppose next year they stop next year for the same rest stop – it might be in somebody’s swimming pool – which I am sure it would be ok with them.

A flock of geese flew over. Several of them were honking wildly like they were disagreeing with the leader on the course. Maybe it was the first year for the lead goose. Maybe he was a replacement – maybe the main lead goose got killed and they have to rely on a new one and some of the older heads knew he was off course.

We walk by a newly completed subdivision. The outside has sprinklers watering the strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street and also the grass between the sidewalk and the wall of the subdivision. When Willow and I first ran down it the sprinklers got us wet and on our return Willow refused to go through that shower tunnel again. She just flat refused. So, we walked around into street. And two other times after that we had to walk to in the street.
I am thinking about calling somebody and complain. The sidewalk belongs to the county and so does the little strip of grass between the sidewalk and the street. Who over controls the sprinklers are barring Willow and I from using the sidewalk.

After walking about 20 minutes I start running. Willow has instantly picked up on that and starts running too. She gets so enthused over use running she ends up pulling me faster than I intended….. she has a lot of training she needs to do to me.

Enon Cemetery in Woodstock, Georgia

click picture to make it readable.

This is Enon Cemetery just north of downtown Woodstock. It has been around a long time. It did not occur to me until this time I drove up to take some more pictures of the latest relatives in residence it is on the edge of the Andersonville community, not to be confused with the city of Andersonville in the southwest part of Georgia that had one of the cruelest CSA War Between the States POW reported. Many books have been written about that Andersonville.

Not this Andersonville. This Andersonville is a laid back community with a lot of farms and country homes. It is where William A. Trammell/Hunter recuperated after he was wounded at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain.

In the past several months Enon Cemetery was in the news. Many older markers were turned over and damaged. Even the body was stolen – one of the people that has been deceased the longest.



Here is one of the markers that I think was knocked over and damaged. Somebody did a good job repairing it.




Here is the Tippen family memorial marker. It memorializes the family for coming when it was a country reserved for Indians only, according to treaties. But, they broke the treaty and got a marker in their honor.




Arminda Hunter Poor was the only daughter of William A. Trammell/Hunter. She married Lewis Franklin Poor. Many of her children, grandchildren, and their spouses are buried at Enon. Arminda was so named because the lady that lived in the Andersonville community that nursed William back to health was named Arminda.




Here is the latest Poor buried at Enon. Lewis William Poor (Jun 17 1920 – 8 Jul 2007). Lewis was 87. He was cutting grass and afterwards didn’t feel so good. He was rushed to the hospital where he died. Lewis and I have met several times in the Wal-Mart parking lot halfway between his home and our home to share genealogy information. If a casual observer noticed us he/she would think a "deal was going down" between the "Over the Hill" gang.



A brother of Lewis, James Henry Poor died on his birthday.




Another Hunter. Jacie Hunter Ingram. Jacie’s father died as a young man. Jacie’s, her sister Lois, and mother was taken in by her grandparents William and Emaline Hunter.






Jacie Huner Ingram’s son Hunter Ingram and his wife Barbara At one time he was mayor of Woodstock. I visited him several times getting family information. Barbara died several years before he. He said more than once he missed her so much.








These are Anna’s g-g- grandparents Isaac and Adeline Saint John Wright. There are many Wrights buried in this cemetery that are also related to Anna. Isaac fought in the Civil War.




Apparently a man named Wolf was involved in an accident and he died and so did his two children. One child lasted a day longer. Sad.

Mr P Head

Anna and I was watching TV tonight and saw a commercial that the scene was in an unknown fast food restaurant. The manager gently fired a teenage boy. After he was fired he got to the pa system and announced next door KFC had boneless wings combo for $3 and something. We cracked up.

It reminded us of a time several years ago we were shopping at Krogers and noticed one kid sweeping seemed to have a bad attitude and the manager, Mr. Johnson* was noticing him.

I think Mr. Johnson* fired him while we were there.

Mr. Johnson was in the same aisle we were shopping in, he was straightening out the displays that managers seem to do when over the PA system we heard a teenage boy say something to the effect, "Attention Kroger shoppers! Mr. Johnson* is a penis head!"

You could hear laughter coming from all over the store.

You should have seen Mr. Johnson* walk quickly towards the office. He had a red face but he was smiling like he was in control, like managers do.

* I forgot his real name, I just wanted the story to slow smoothly.

My Mind Went Blank

I Stand Corrected - or to continue When You Are Caught You Are Caught.

I just deleted a posting. Too bad, I thought it was very good and creative.

The only trouble is that it had one big important misinformation on it that I couldn't side-step.

I admitted in the first sentence I was no sports fan... so, maybe that qualified me to make a blunder.

My son read it and corrected me: Arthur Blank did not build the Atlanta Aquarium. It was Berney Marcus. Both Blank and Marcus were founders of Home Depot. I got them confused. Evidently, I don't know much about business either.

Well, at least I got to be human or divine out of it, I'm not sure which.

Well, win some, lose some.

Joe Report

Joe’s mentor, his father, taught him his tricks for survival well.

Monday before last, my neighbor Kathleen called me and said three county vehicles were parked in at Joe’s house. I looked out the window and yep, a white car and a white van were parked in the driveway and in the street in front of the house was another white car – all county style non-descript and white.

I looked over that way several times in the next couple of hours and the white vehicles were still there.

I think it was bad news for Joe and mate that three white vehicles came. It probably meant the one that usually comes expected there would be trouble this visit so she wanted backup or support.

However, I think the bad news might have developed into good news when the visitors stayed long. It probably meant someone softened and now was reluctant and the other two needed convincing.

Later I left. When I drove off I noticed the three vehicles were gone. Who won? I wondered.

When I was returning about 30 minutes later, turning onto our street I saw a strange sight. Joe’s baby’s mama was marching down the street with a hard look on her face. Usually she appears to be relaxed and laid back… too laid back. Behind her walking was a Cobb County Policeman. I glanced up at their house and a Cobb County Police Car was parked in front.

One or more police car parked in front of their house is not that unusual sight. “What now?” I wondered.

I glanced at the house Joe’s baby mama was marching in full steam to. The man that lives there is a friend of Joe’s family. Joe and the man was outside leaning against trucks talking.

A few minutes later I was unloading my truck and saw the policeman and Joe were walking up the street. Every thing the policeman said Joe laughed like the policeman was the smartest and wittiest person in the world.

I remember Joe’s dad doing the same thing. Apparently, he taught him well. I think whatever the trouble was, Joe escaped problems again by smooth talking and laughing at the cop’s wit.

I don’t know if child services took the baby that day or not.

In a day or so, Joe and his friends were back spinning in his friends’ jeeps and trucks in the back yard again.

That reminds me, a day or so before the even I just described Joe hollered over to me one morning while I was in the hard asking me did see anybody over at his house. His truck was missing – somebody stole it he said.

The neighbors think somebody repossessed it.

Saturday or Sunday evening Joe looked like the typical man of the household – he borrowed his neighbor’s riding lawnmower and cut the grass. And afterwards with a blower he blew the grass away. Isn’t that nice?

And the next day I noticed his grass and paper bits that the lawnmower chewed up all over my front yard.

Cemetery in Douglasville, Georgia

The Cemetery tour continues.

This is a cemetery in downtown Douglasville. It is next door to a funeral home. The funeral home looks fairly new but the cemetery looks fairly old.

The only marker I know is my first cousin Jerry Hunter. He is a few months older than I am. He was a pilot in Vietnam. He was shot out of the sky.

His mother is buried in this same plot but failed to take a picture of her marker. Now, his father is buried there also. And his mother’s parents, the Ogles are sharing the plot also.

Hunter Park is a sports park (ball fields) in Douglasville is named in Jerry’s honor as being the first person from that city killed in the Vietnam war.

His father and mother took a keen interest in all veteran affairs and ceremonies in memory of Jerry, their only child.

Email Birthday Card

I received this via email from my friend Par. Par and I both have what some may think an unbalanced appreciation comic art, focusing in on EC horror and MAD. And Par, was a very good comic book artist himself.

It is just too good not to share. click on the picture to make it even better - or more glorius.

Rambling

This is just a ramble and review of the last couple of days.

Friday while out and about we ate lunch at Gabriel’s. Gabriel’s is owned and operated by Johnnie Garbriel. We watched her establishment grow from a little bakery to a big sandwich shop with a large staff. She always had a sweet laid back disposition, She seemed witty and pleasant.

Once she told us she and Paula Deen were first cousin.

While eating lunch Anna’s uncle and aunt came in and joined us. Then we saw Congressman Phil Gingrey with a tray with his lunch on it. He was all smiles. While we were walking out we ran into my cousin David, who also has an interest in politics. He asked me for an update on my genealogical information. I think Gabriel’s is the place to be seen.

Also, there were signs throughout the eatery saying she would be on Paula Deen’s show that evening at 9pm. We watched it. She seemed a bit nervous – not as relaxed as she comes off in her own surroundings when the TV lights and camera are focused on her.

Saturday we decided to get an big deck umbrella for our deck table. We looked at them at Target, Wal-mart, and Home Depot and decided on at Target where they were marked 50% off.

One kind Target had on display only had one left. A man beat us to it. We decided on another. Nearer the cash registers we ran into the man and his wife. She was trying to talk him out of it. He pointed to us and said we wanted the same umbrella, so if he couldn’t have it we would take it – the last one. He turned around and put it in our cart. His wife said it was too expensive.

I guess as an ego thing, to prove his point of who wore the pants in the family, he retrieved it from our cart and put it in his own.

I guess we could have argued the point that once he placed it in our cart it was ours, but we didn’t. We just politely watched their show-of-power game.

We got our umbrella home. Set it up. There is a little round hole in the center of the table that is meant to hold a umbrella pole – so, now the hole is earning its keep.

We enjoyed sitting on the deck under the umbrella for a short time and then it came a downpour. We ran inside. I moved on the deck cushions to the carport, which now has a nice junky look to it. I need to at least stack them neat today.

And according to the forecast it is going to rain off and on all week. We should have bought the umbrella sooner – then we might have prevented the drought.

Speaking of rain. Sunday morning Willow and I were out on what I intended to be a two mile walk. About half way again it became a downpour. We ran in the rain to get back home – which we were drenched to the skin when we arrived.

And today is my birthday. I’ll cry if I want to.

Lady Bird and Annie Fanny

This morning the CBS Sunday Morning Show had a tribute to Lady Bird Johnson. The late Charles Karout (?) interviewed her ten years ago which was mostly talking about her legacy of beautifying many of American's Highways. She did a good job on getting rid of ugly signs on interstate highways and having beautiful flowers planted. Now, much of the nation's highways are a pleasure to drive because of her.

In the interviewed she has such a great southern accent. She was a fine refined lady in my opinion.

When I saw the interview this morning my first thought was an Annie Fanny cartoon feature in PLAYBOY magazine over thirty years ago, the last panel, in the bottom left corner (above). click to make bigger.

You Are Talking To Wanda

Overheard at Wal-mart in the past few days:

Lady behind the customer service counter: I worked all day yesterday till 11:00 last night and back this morning at 8:00. I didn't got no sleep. That tells me I don’t have the sense God gave a billy goat.

Customer : You mean you didn’t get any sleep? And I’m turning over stuff to you to credit:

Lady: Honey, you are talking to Wanda. I could do this in my sleep.


Approaching checkout counter in the patio area where a mother, father, two boys are being having their purchases rung up by cashier – smallest boy, about 3 years old:
HOLY SHIT!!! (You could hear it probably across the store).
Mother, bending over to the child correcting him: Honey, you mean HOLY SHRIMP don’t you?
Little Boy (again loudly): HOLY SHIT!!!!

Water Meter Update

In an earlier posting I said the water department sent me a letter complaining because we used too much water, compared to our neighbors.

I found that hard to believe when I see Joe and his mother spraying each other with the water hose and also Joe washing his truck daily before his mother gets home and seeing all the mud on the truck, which was a way of saying he was spinning around and around in the back yard again.

And a couple of neighbors illegally waters their lawn every day. Our lawn is brown from lack of water.

Then, what topped it off was when I went behind the water meter man to look at the meter reading and when I lifted the lid the saw that the glass covering the numbers that rolls over was completely covered with mold, goo, and ants. No way they were reading my meter, so I called the water department and complained.

The meter reading is contracted out. They said they would send one of their men over to check things out.

A week and one day later the man came. He said he didn’t know how they read the meter, but it looks like they did an accurate job. He also said he cleaned the meter glass and sprayed the ants with WD40 – he said that was the best thing to get rid of the ants.

He said 8 days ago when the meter was read the last digit was on 4. Now, he said, it was on 5. The digit he was talking about only moves per 1000 gallons.

I said, “We used a 1000 gallons in a week and one day?”

He said probably not, maybe the hidden part was on 999 and just a couple of gallons and roll it over to the next number.

I told him of the letter I got from the water department. He, a plain spoken black man, said “don’t pay no attention to those letters – they don’t know anything (I’m not sure he used the word “anything”, it may have been more straight forward), they sent those letters out at random, and that way they look like they are doing their job trying to conserve water during this shortage.”

He also let me in on a little secret. Cobb County has plenty of water. He said Atlanta is hurting for water, Cobb County has so much water they sell water to the City of Atlanta.

I guess it pays to have the Chattahoochee River flow in your county.

Socks, Socks, and some more Socks

I had the handyman over Thursday to do several little things on my “to do list”.

I sort of hung around and talked some to him and was on hand to make any decisions (right or wrong) and to “step & fetch” something if needed.

This is almost out of a typical Seinfield episode:

He had on a pair of white socks, that was loose yet they still stayed up. He told me about the socks and raised his pants leg to show me. He said he is a diabetic and the doctor recommended that he wear socks without elastic bands because the elastic bands cuts off circulation, which is crucial for diabetics.

I am not a diabetic, but politely said the kind of sock he was wearing suited the need – they stayed up, yet they didn’t cut off circulation. And that was just about all the conversation we had about his socks. I forgot all about it.

That evening about 9 pm the telephone rang and it was the handyman. He told me he had the man’s number that sold those socks wholesale. He said you can buy by the gross, or by packs with either 4 or 6 pairs per pack. He gave me the man’s number.

Then he said the man comes to the Woodstock Post Office one day every two weeks to pick up his mail and that would be a good meeting place, if you called him ahead to place your order.

He went on to tell me each color they had: white (which is what he prefers), black (he only wears those when he dresses up), blue, light bue, tan, and maybe some other color I forgot.

You probably read all this in less than a minute. I must have left out a lot of the details about socks – it took him about 10 minutes to tell me about all the socks available through this man – and I hardly spoke.

Since the meeting to buy the socks is so complicated I wonder if he prefers cash only, and does he look in all directions before he makes the exchange of the socks for your money – you never can be too careful.

Have I Got A Deal For You

I received the below email today. If you believe you are going to make 30% on this deal good for you! I can tell you are a wise investor. But before you send them anything, I'll like to talk to you about some prime real estate in Manhattan that I can get for you for almost nothing.

TRUST!!!
CONFIDENTIAL!

DEAR SIR/MA,

REQUEST ASSISTANCE/PARTNERSHIP IN A TRANSFER.
I AM AN ACCOUNTANT AND ALSO THE CHAIRMAN OF THE CONTRACT AWARD AND REVIEW
COMMITTEE. A CONTRACT ALREADY EXECUTED BY A FOREIGN FIRM IN AFRICA IN 2004
WAS OVER-INVOICED BY US TO THE TUNE OF EIGHTEEN MILLION FIVE HUNDRED
THOUSAND UNITED STATE DOLLARS ONLY. $7.5mUSD IN THE LIGHT OF THE ABOVE, I
ASKED YOU FOR ASSISTANCE IN THE TRANSFER OF THE EXCESS FLOATING IN A
SUSPENCE ACCOUNT INTO A FOREIGN ACCOUNT YOU MAY WISH TO PROVIDE, FOR IT
WAS A CATEGORY "A" CONTRACT, (STRICTLY RESERVED FOR A FOREIGN CONTRACTORS)
THIS INFORM MY REQUEST, AND ALSO THAT I AM FORBIDDEN BY MY GOVERNMENT TO
RUN ANY FOREGN ACCOUNT.
AFTER THE SUCCESSFUL TRANSFER, 30% OF THE TOTAL SUM WILL GO TO YOU FOR
YOUR ASSISTANCE. 10% OF THE TOTAL SUM TO COMPENSATE FOR ANY INCIDENTAL
EXPENSES INCURED BY BOTH PARTIES.
MORE DETAILS WILL BE GIVEN IN THE COURSE OF CORRESPONDENCE.YOUR
CONFIDENTIALITY IS HIGLY REQUIRED SINCE I AM STILL IN ACTIVE SERVICE.
THANK YOU FOR YOUR ANTICIPATED CORPORATION.
REGARDS,
cHUKU Egobia

Friday the 13th!!!

Beware!!!!!

Willow and her Beauty Shop Appointment

Willow laughing at one of my jokes.

We decided our dog Willow needed her nails clipped by a professional. Professional meaning “not us”… I don’t think she would let us.

I called a dog grooming we used to use for out late dog Brandy and got an appointment. I noticed that they had moved and I asked them in detail where it was at and they said at the veterinarian on Canton Road near Canton Road. I thought I immediately recognized the place because I rode by often watching the building going up, and next to it was a big dog daycare center, which I have mentioned on an earlier blog of seeing a dogfight onetime when riding my bike by.

I made the appointment for Tuesday. That was the day my sister and I went to north Georgia in search for the Spring in Varnell. I was aware of that before I made the appointment, but we decided because she is a new member of the family it might be traumatic for her to be away from us that long of a period. So, Tuesday morning I called and cancelled the appointment and rescheduled it for Thursday morning.

Thursday morning I took Willow to the pretty yellow building with the big fence with dogs running around enjoying themselves. Yep, that must be the one, a sign said grooming.

On the fence by where I parked said that they had dog birthday parties. I wonder if they had a dog-clown blowup balloons and maybe dress like a postman or what. They also had a dog bakery inside. All the bakery items behind the glass counter looked what would appear to humans and not dogs… a lot of the items looked like Duncan or Krispy Kreame Frosty Donuts.

A perky short little woman opened the door for us and asked what she could do for us. I told her Willow had an appointment I said I brought Willow for a bath and nail clipping. I told her we would like to have her bathed in a skin conditional bath because she scratched a lot but had no fleas as far as we could tell. And please file her nails too, so they would not be sharp.

She asked me did the person on the phone give me a price. I said no. She said that it would be $40 when I picked her up. She then she had Willow and me to follow her back to the back room where an mature woman and a teenager were grooming a dog. She introduced both to them. I told them it was nice to meet them and Willow just looked around, wondering what was next.

The mature woman asked me did I want to have her anal gland taken care of. Well, I never thought of that, but sure, why not?

The lady, apparently the owner, who met me in the front, led me back to the front, and leaving Willow there. She told me they would call me when Willow was ready, but it would be before lunch.

I went back home and kind of helped and overseen a handyman we having to build a dog proof gate to separate the deck from the carport. The deck has a railing that separate the two with a 54” opening. A gate there would solve the problem of Willow galloping away in the wide opened world.

Time went by quickly for the morning. I looked at my watch and it was a quarter to noon and the dog grooming shop had not called yet. I had written down the telephone of Clip & Dip and I called them. The lady on the phone said she believed that I carried Willow to the wrong grooming shop. She went on to say that they had an appointment this morning for Willow but we never showed up – but there was another groom shop next door, maybe I carried her there. I bet I did too! She didn’t know their name for me to call them.

I just got in the truck and drove there. The handyman was breaking for lunch anyway and to get a gate bolt at Home Depot.

I went to the pet grooming place and saw the name on the door and went in and told the lady I made a mistake – I had an appointment next door. She said, “Aren’t you glad you came to us though?” Now, I suddenly realized, the knew the whole time this morning when I brought Willow in that I was making a mistake and took advantage of it.

Me – grumbling lowly.

The owner, “Just wait until you see Willow, her black hair has the finest quality to it now – oh, and forty dollars please”. I wrote a check and she wanted to see my driver’s license. I haven’t had to show my I.D. for a check for years.

Willow had a little scarf around her neck. It looked kind of sporty. The lady gave her a little bag of dog greats in it for being so well-behaved.

In the truck I noticed there was a dog-shit smell that just started when she stepped in. Was she seeping gas out of her rectum? Is this the anal treatment the lady was talking about?

Willow, the Black Panther in Dog Face-Makeup

My mangled and mauled arms. Willow almost has me trained to jump through hoops or do any other command she barks.

Dawson Cemetery

Dawson Cemetery is a little cemetery on Shallowford Road on the far outskirts of Marietta.

You never know who you might dig up in a cemetery.







Otis Brumby was the publisher of the Marietta Daily Journal. In fact, the publisher of the paper now is Otis Brumby, which I am sure the one lying here is a progenitor of the present publisher. There are two cemeteries closer to the Square that most of the town’s elite are buried in, you can walk through the those cemeteries and recognize the name of streets and successful companies in Marietta. You would expect Otis Brumby, publisher to be buried in one of those, not 10 miles away from a town that he helped shape.




I think the reason he is buried here is because he married a Dobbs and there are a good many Dobbs in this cemetery.




I am sort of studying the Westmoreland Family of Cobb County. One of my great grandfather’s son married Gwen Westmoreland and I got a hold of a dairy by Gwen’s sister that covered about 50 years and read it. James Westmoreland was one of their brothers. Now, I feel I know the family well. You might see me at their next reunion filling up my plate in the covered dish line.




And here is a Johnny Reb, killed in the Civil War.

The cemetery is next door to an elementary school and across the street from a middle school (aka junior high).

Years ago, I remember riding down Shallowford Road a little after 4pm, and noticed a crowd of teenage boys in the Dawson Cemetery. I looked more in detail as I rode by. Two boys, fist balled, were standing in a strained stance, with fists balled, staring at each other. Other boys were smiling and apparently wanting to see a good fight. It looked so typical for that age – it could have been a Norman Rockwell illustration.