On Facebook
I posted the latest picture of our grandson Benjamin at his dance class. He was wearing a red cape. That reminded me of a picture of his father
Rocky, wearing a Superman suit with a red cape at his birthday party years
ago. I said, "Like Father, Like
Son".
Then, being
the self-centered lout that I am, I thought, "What about me?"
I am a
father of a son mentioned there. Did I
ever do the Superman thing when I was young?
"Hmmmmmmm"
(me stroking my chin thinking way back).
I don't
remember doing Superman with a cape.
But I did do
MIGHTY MOUSE.
I played I
was Mighty Mouse. That was in the early
1940s before TV. I was fairly new when I
played MM, probably age 4 or 5. We lived
in the Clay Homes.
My sister
Frances and I shared a bedroom. We had
twin beds. I remember I had a cape on,
just like Benjamin and Rocky, but I think mine was a towel.
I jumped
from bed to bed, springing from one bed upright, and with my arms out like
super heroes do, get parallel then land
on the other bed on my head.
One time I
missed and my head hit the dresser and blood spurted everywhere. I was rushed to the Old Hospital (3 or 4
blocks, we probably walked) and stitches was put across my left eyebrow.
I haven't
noticed if the scar of no hair across my eyebrow is still there or not.
I was proud
of my stitches and gauge and when someone first asked what happen I told the truth they laughed at me and I felt humiliated.
The next
person that asked me, which was Mrs Cannon, who lived upstairs in the next
unit, I told her I ran into the door.
I'm not sure
but I think I have never heard the "ran
into a door" excuse before.
From then
on, when I heard someone give the "run into door" excuse I felt
pride.
This
morning's Marietta Daily Journal, on page 2, their Looking Back is about
Leander Niles Trammell (1894-1973). The
photo was taken in 1942 of Marietta dignitaries welcoming their old friend chum
Niles Trammell back to Marietta. Niles was president of National Broadcasting
Company at the time.
Niles is 3rd
cousin, twice removed, to me and my Hunter first cousin. Jacob B. Trammell are our first common
ancestor.
Niles grew
up on Trammell Street, two or three doors down from his state famous
grandfather Leander Newton Trammell
(1830-1900).
The article
mentions he was president of NBC in crucial times, like jumping on the television bandwagon, but
did not mention he is the one that signed up AMOS & ANDY on radio.
I don't
know, but I think Niles being from Marietta and several of the AMOS & Andy
cast from Marietta is why "MARIETTA, GEORGIA" Marietta was mentioned often on the sitcom.
Remember the
Georgian Oaks Motel? It was just down
about a block north of Fisherman's Grill and a hop, skip, and a jump southwards
from Fisherman's was a restaurant I
forgot the name of it but it was considered an alternative hangout, like
Varners. It was more directly in front
of main gate at Dobbins Air Force Base.
But getting
back to The Georgian Oaks Motel (and/or Lodge):
I have a facebook friend Richard that comes and goes. Sometimes he is gone over a year. He is a cook by trade. Every once in a while he will come up with a
surprised bombshell. Once he told me
either a girlfriend or waitress friend burned up the Georgian Oaks and she went
to prison for it.
Since he
told me that every time I think of The Georgian Oaks I think of that.
Also I think
of a kid whose parents ran the Georgian Oaks then. He helped his father with different kinds of
vending machines. He metamorphosed himself
to be a great vending machine repair person and collector of antique machines.
He is Bob
Halliday of Bob's Garage that is on JVL Industrial Drive off Shallowford Road.
Refurbishes cars, trucks, juke
boxes and many more things. He has a
national and probably international reputation.
Bob Reece,
of Marietta, named the people in this family:
"My dad
TJ is the tallest boy. The other boy is
Byron Herbert Reece. Juan and Emma Reece are the parents.
Jean is in
Emma's lap. Eva and Kate are the 2 older
girls."
The father
is Juan Wellborn Lance and the mother is Hannah Lou Emma Lance.
Emma's
grandfather is Rev John Henry Lance. You
might recall in these blog posts that Rev. John Henry Lance was killed for his
stand against moonshine in Union County.
Rev, John Henry Lance is the grandson
of our ancestor John Hunter who died in Union County about 1848.
And the
shortest boy, Byron Herbert Reece was the poet
and farmer. His family farm which
he worked is a museum in Union County now.
Here is what I have on him in genealogical notes:
Bryon
said he was a farmer first and a writer second.
However, he was rewarded the
Guggenheim Fellowship for his poetry.
His poetry is known over the world.
He taught at Young Harris College.
He spent time in the Battey Hospital in Rome, Georgia, which specialized
in tuberculosis. It has been handed down
that he went to a funeral home, picked out a casket and paid for it. The proprietor did not know he was picking it
out for himself. That same day he took
his own life by gun.
Books by Bryon Herbert REECE:
Ballad
of the Bones, Bow Down Jericho, A Song of Joy, The Season of the Flesh, Tents
Swords Sodom, The Hawk, and the Sun and
A Dinner of Herbs.
His biography:
"MOUNTAIN
SINGER: THE LIFE AND THE LEGACY OF BYRON HERBERT REECE" by Raymond A.
COOK.
Today we had
bank business. While I was standing with
Anna at the teller's window I spotted over on a counter a complementary coffee
machine.
I love free
coffee at places like this! (1)Banks and
doctors' receptionists areas like to put their best foot forward and have the
very best top quality coffee.
(2) and it
is free.
I casually
went over to it and selected a medium roasted premium name I never heard of
before. The coffee pack was in strong
plastic wrap. I could not figure out how
to open it.
I went back
and stood by Anna but was studying the machine. I remember a machine similar to that in a
doctor's office but you did not open the pack up, you just put the whole thing
in it and slap the mechanism together and brewed quickly.
I went over
and studied the machine again but could not figure out exactly how to slap it
in there or tear the wrapper off or what.
I gave up
and was walking away.
A
professional well-dressed lady saw my dilemma and asked if I needed any help.
I said yes.
She showed
me how to do get the coffee step by
step.
I got my
coffee and as we were walking out I saw the lady that helped me talk to another
professional lady and they broke up laughing.
This picture
of the camera is with the bicycle adapter.
It is a small camera, about the size of a ring box. However it comes with many adapters and
attachments, it comes in a box about the size of a cigar box. I bought it the other day.
As already
noted it comes with bike adapter; a flat
stand, as to sit upright on your car
dash: and a helmet adapter, and maybe more I have not figured out yet: It has a lot of little plastic extras.
It was
complicated (to me) to figure out what parts I needed to assemble the bike
adapter. Interesting, the first time I
assembled it and attached it to my bike's handlebars I did not notice until I
was about to pedal away that the camera was mounted upside down. That would not do, so I unassembled and assembled it again, right side up, and then
saw the camera lens were facing me, the driver, not forward, but backwards. AARRRGGggg!
That would
be something, a 1.5 maiden voyage with
my new camera with nothing but my facial expressions the entire time. A video selfie!
Back to the
drawing board.
I finally
got it all connected (with Anna's with the instructions ), rode my bike with the camera looking ahead for about
1.5 miles.
When I got
back and looked at the video it only recorded the last two blocks.
About the
area it started recording I remember about that time the camera was pointing
forward and down. I thought it might be
recording the street pavement. So I
pushed she pulled to get the camera to start pointing more level. I must have accidentally pressed the
"record" button which should have been on anyway.
More later
when I learn more about this $59.99 camera.
What if you
were officially sworn in to investigate an organization that appears to have
made some illegal actions, then the organization you are investigating hires investigators
to investigate you for "Leverage"?
Artist Savadore Dali's body was exhumed two days ago because of a court order. A professional tarot card reader claims her mother had an affair with Dali and she is the love child result. The purpose is to check the artist's DNA and compare it to the tarot card reader's DNA. If her claim is proven true she would be the only known descendant of Salvadore Dali and could be worth a half billion dollars. I thought about Dali's art. He was a master of surrealism art. And I thought of one of his paintings, titled Ballerina-in-a-Death's Head:
This is
mostly about the art selections of Harvey Kurtzman (1924-1993), editor and
creator of MAD Comicbook and the art of his artists and how
the stuff they produced is natural raw clip art.
My old
friend Archie Richardson introduced MAD Comicbook to me when we were in the 7th
grade. It literally sent my mind in
directions I never dreamed of. I became
an instant fan and I still go over old MADs and Kurtzman's other satirical
magazines.
At first I
was completely amazed and transfixed by the bold art with human body language
expression.
I soon
swooped up the three back issues of MAD and subscribed. I was at the age of making friends and seeing a lot
of them move away with their parents.
I took it
upon myself to keep my friends that moved updated on the latest news in
Marietta that I thought they would be interested in. My friend Sam Carsley was also doing the same
thing and pasted clip art that was cut from the funny papers, mostly LI'L ABNER.
I thought I
could do better with clip art clipped from MAD, which I thought was more
expressive.
In time MAD metamorphosed
itself into MAD Magazine and Harvey Kurtzman got fired and had a history of
three other magazine before he and his same original MAD artists started Annie Fanny in PLAYBOY.
When I
approached middle age I had a want to review the old MADs and the other
magazine only to remember most of my satirical magazine was cut in shreds for
the sake of having funny expressive envelope s.
I, just like
the officer in River Kwi, said, "What have I done?"
It just so
happened in a timely manner, about the same year, the first 300 or so issues of MAD were
digitized on 5 CDs, named TOTALLY MAD.
Not only did
I get to re-study the stories and art, I could copy and paste old home made
clip art like old times.
I took the
old idea of putting clip art on correspondence to putting clip art on much of
my blogs and facebook posts.
Harvey
Kurtzman was the editor for E.C. Comics
MAD, FRONTLINE COMBAT, and TWO-FISTED
TALES. He wrote every story except some war stories that historically wrote
themselves. After he wrote a story he
would meet with the artist he assigned to it and with body language explain
just what he wanted to see. I would have
loved to have been invisible watching Kurtzman demonstrated what he wanted by swelling
up like a bully, or waving his arms and legs like a ballet dancer, to holding
his arm out to catch an invisible baseball.
Kurtzman was a bald short person.
He probably put on an amazing show.
It's a shame Youtube wasn't around then.
I sorted out the artists works so you can see their personal styles better.
Not all the
artists here worked for MAD. Robert
Crumb was his assistant editor at HELP
Magazine. Don Martin was and artist for
MAD after Kurtzman fired, but he had the Kurtzman visual spirit and excellent clip art creator.
This house
was on Butler Street in South Marietta.
Then, the city engineers did some street flip-flopping and now the house
was on Atlanta Street. Then there was no
house. It burned up.
The house
had a long history. In the Civil War it
was a Union soldiers hospital. In the early
20th century it belonged to Mary Phagan's grandfather. About 20 years later Anna's mother's family
lived there when she was young.
It is what I
always thought of as the Hunt House.
When I was a preteen the Hunt
Family, owners of Hunt Ice Cream on West Atlanta Street and the Economy
Hot Dogs and Ice Cream on Church Street. As a kid we played football on the huge side-lawn on Sundays sometime.
Time stands
still for no man (or house).
Which
reminds me the other day we were riding down Powder Springs Street and I
looking down Hedges Street and West Dixie Avenue I saw that all the houses have
been bulldozed away.
I think that
is step one of gentrification . It seems
to me that should be unconstitutional. It pushes out low income families and make
way for the wealthy.
According to
Uncle John's Bathroom Reader: 50% of
Americans admitted to running a red light.
OK. I wonder how what percent also ran a red
light but did not admit to it?
Out on a
lone dark road, waiting what seems forever on a red light to change green and
no traffic is in sight either way, I know what I have done. But I admit nothing.
I know of a
man who once ran a red light and did not live long enough to admit it or not
admit.
I know,
because I was going through the green light as he ran the red light. He went through the windshield of his truck
and he hit me on the drivers side and the force knocked me on the other side of
my green Gremlin before it crushed that side.
Neither one
of us had on seat belts. He died because
he did have a seat belt on and I lived because I did not have mine on.
That was the
Spring of 1975. I am not sure they even
had seatbelts then.
This picture was taken at Anna's retirement party
several years ago. It looks like I am
whispering sweet-nothings to Anna's already retired co-worker Darlene. What you don't know is that Darlene is deaf
and wears a hearing -aid, which she keeps off most the time. So, is probably faking her expression, with
no idea what I am saying, just by my eyes she could probably tell I just told
the punch line so she should giggle.
Years before
when we worked, Darlene and I carpooled to Kennesaw Junior College together. She had a little Beetle VW and I think at
that time I had a little Volvo PV544, about the same size as the VW. We took turns driving. I smoked back then but was a gentleman enough
not to smoke in the car with her. She
detested smoking.
I remember
one night when I picked her up she told me her apartment clubhouse was having
beer party. I forgot the details, but I
think we played hooky. We drank beer and
socialized with a crowd that would be called Yuppies in today's world. I remember a drunk woman sat down with us and
she was very talkative. Interesting, the drunken lady was an ex-nun. It was the first time and
only time I got woozy with an yakking ex-nun.
We kept my
birthday on low key yesterday. We did
not to an upscale restaurant yesterday or anything like that.
But we did
go to a nearby small restaurant that has good food. It was just the owner and one tall teenager
that was waiter. Or I think he was a
teenager by the way he carried himself, but he may have been in his early 20s.
The food was
good. I had blackened catfish, hushpuppies,
and coleslaw. At first we were the only
customers, then three other groups came in.
After we
finished Anna asked the young man if they did
anything for birthdays. The guy
looked puzzled. I think the tall awkward
guy imagined himself singing "Happy Birthday" to me. Then he said he could give me peach pie. It was agreed, I would get peach pie with ice
cream.
He asked did
I want to peach pie warmed up and I said sure.
After all, let's go for it all!
The owner
brought the heated peach pie, no ice cream.
I found out
something I didn't know. Freshly nuked
peaches in peach pie hold their hotness.
When I bit into the pie the almost boiling peach juice clung to my tongue
I wanted to run around screaming. I
settled for a mouth of cold water.
Today we had
lunch at the Opa Greek Village Taverna at what was the Belmont Hills Shopping
Center the restaurant and some others
shops are in the L-shape cluster of stores in the northwest Corner. The Greek Village Tavern sits about where
Twelve Oaks Restaurants sat in the Belmont Hills days.
Unfortunately,
the huge Belmont Hills parking lot is still there, at the time unused. The payment has been scraped away, now the
area is covered with three feet high weeds.
It seems they could at least grow corn of something, just to make it
useful, until it has further development.
On west end, about where Belmont Hills Shopping Center was is a gated
community and on the south side of that is a big two storied grammar school
that looks like it has not opened yet.
Back to the
Opa Greek Village Taverna: It was
delicious and very Greek. Greek music
and murals of a typical Greek Village, and of course Greek food. Olives, garlic, and feta cheese galore!
Brenda and
Marvalyn at a Varner's Reunion. I
have close connections to both of them.
Brenda worked for the Woodstock Post Office and I worked for the Atlanta
and Marietta Post Offices. Marvalyn
lived around the corner, only three houses away.
We have a
hanging fern plant. Yesterday the fern
sounded like a big bird party was coming from it. There were chirping, screaming, and
tweeting. In a way, they tweeted more drastically
than Trump.
I think yesterday
was the day the parent birds, Wrens, I think, decided it was time for the baby
birds to be booted from their nest and find someplace else to live.
I tried
taking pictures but the birds were not in a posing mood. They had a new phase in their young lives to
deal with. I found this picture on Google.
I knew there
was a bird sitting on eggs in the fern plant, actually she and hubby are the
second couple that moved in that I know of.
Every time I watered the ferns a
bird would shoot out of the greenery and would return after I left.
It was
interesting to see partly the process of the graduation ceremony. Apparently, Mom and Dad Bird would pick one
of their young ones, and nudge it to the edge of the nest and somehow root it
out into mid-air and it would either sink or swim, I mean fly. I saw one fall through the air and hit the
carport payment, but quickly fluttered
his wings and he went and perched on a slat in the lattice, and I think I heard it squawk, "I can fly!"
One took off
like Peter Pan, went down then up and landed on a branch in a nearby bush. The parents hurried over to give it moral
support and maybe some advice.
Once I saw
four birds, which I think were the two parents and two young ones on a limb
overlooking the carport. One of them
were learning how to keep its balance with the help of flapping his wings.
They have a
lot to learn. Rule number one: Stay away from Willow and the neighborhood
cat.
Today is the Late Joe Stewart's birthday. He and I were big Tuba Skinny fans. He got to see them perform one time a little over a year ago. It made his day, week, or year. This is for Joseph!
