SUNDAY FUNNIES!! THE PIRANHA CLUB by Bud Grace

Be sure to click on the picture a couple of times to make the image larger so you can read it and make sense of it.

Lots of Hills

This morning on our walk I listened to Gladys Knight and the Pips. It brought back memories of the Atlanta Post Office. The operations manager at night had a secretary named Katherine Hill. Katherine was married to one of the three Pips of Gladys Knight's Pips. In time Katherine divorced the Pip and Married a supervisor named Gilbert Hill. We kidded her saying the only reason she went after him so she would not have to change her last name - too much paper work. What did we call her new husband, Gilbert Hill? Gilbert Hill Hill of course.

The Strand Theater, Home Away From Home

We were asked to tell our memories of The Strand Theater of Marietta in our formative years. Here goes, below: THE STRAND THEATER IN MY YOUTH My name is Edwin “Eddie” T. Hunter, AKA Rock Hunter. I was born in 1941 on Atlanta Street, two or three blocks from the Strand Theater. When I was young, it was my second home. Before I was six a bunch of us from Clay Homes went to the Saturday Morning Matinees. We were not worried about being kidnapped. Nobody would have us. The Saturday morning movie was either a black and white cowboy movie with a national known cowboy hero or maybe The Bowery Boys. Often times either Saturday or Sunday night our parents would take us to see a thriller, romance or maybe something with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby. With our parents we usually sat near the back. During Saturday morning “shoot’em ups”, we usually sat closer to the screen near the exit door. That was the social center for our age where we got to meet kids from other schools.I still remember the green round Mayes Ward Funeral Home clock over the corner exit door. For my age, admission was under 15 cents. As I got older and the admission price increased, the ticket taker asked me how old I was. That was embarrassing. One of my so call friends must have told on me. More money spent, the less allowance money I had. Speaking of slipping in without paying the right price or none, a few of us figured out a way to get in free. The ticket taker on most days was a guy named Sharkie. The trick was to go into Sharkie’s station, also the smoking lounge, and light up a cigarette, shoot the breeze with Sharkie until your cigarette runs out. Next go into the Lobby and buy yourself a Coke and go on into the movie. When I was about ten or eleven years old, we lived in the South part of Marietta. Somehow, I got my hands on a Roman Candle. Fireworks were illegal in Georgia at that time. I was not about to get caught breaking the law since my father was Chief of Marietta Police. I wanted to shoot the Roman Candle but did not want to get caught. I thought I had better shoot it in broad daylight while Daddy was at work. In the daylight it was very disappointing. First, I lit it and it did nothing. Then I thought maybe it just needed shaking, so I shook it and unfortunately, I was right. A white blaze shot out of the tube I was holding and scorched my hand. I was in a painful agony. My solution was to hold my hand in icy water, but how to keep my mom from knowing what I was up to. I walked the mile distance to the Square, went to The Strand and bought a ticket. I bought a large Coke and explained to the concession lady what I was doing but could only afford one refill. She told me only the cups are counted, not the volume of Coke. She offered when the ice melts, just come up and she would refill it, no cost. It worked! The next day the pain was bearable. Back in those days you could come in a movie when you got there and stay until you made a complete cycle of the movie. I don’t remember ever being kicked out of a movie but some of my friends were. When we tried the ushers’ patience, we were probably preteens showing off for girls. Those were the Good Old Days. This picture of Smiley Burnette and me was taken in front of the Strand behind the Box Office about 1948. 1659050114787blob.jpg

Henry and Louisa "Lula" Kuykendall Wright

Henry Gable Wright (1836 - 1936) married Louisa "Lula" Kuykendall (1868-1923) 13 January 1900. Henry was the son of Isaac and Loveuia Adeline Saint John Wright and Lula was the daughter of James Ephriah and Frances Eliza "Fannie" Tyson. Henry and Lula had 5 children, which included Anna's grandmother, Lessie Wright (married J.O. Prance). They are buried in Enon Cemetery in Woodstock, Cherokee County, Georgia.

What, Me Worry?

Hunters on Waterman Street

This is the house my father was born in. It was on Waterman Street at Waddell Street. I got to take a picture of it before it was bulldozed a couple years ago to make way for progress....(?) the next picture is the Hunters out front of the house on Waterman Street. Left to right: 1st Row, Ed (Daddy) and W.C. Hunter 2nd Row: Bus, Bee, Herbert, and their father Frank Paris Hunter Back: Minnie Victoria Tyson Hunter. Notice the way Minnie is looking at Frank: it looks to me like pure admiration. Ed was born in 1911. He looks about 2 years old. The pictures was probably taken made about 1913.

Marie's post Card Collection, Chicago

Marie's Postcard Collection. This is Chicago and the Chicago River. Anna and I took a boat tour of that River once. It goes right by the twin round towers of Marina City, and the docent pointed out Al Capone hangouts in prohibition days , and other items of interest. The docent also told us on Saint Patrick's Day they color the river green. I should have asked, "And what color do they color it on Saint Valentine's Day - Red?"

Calvard School near Cohutta, Ga, Pettys & Ridleys

Throwback Thursday. Attn Petty Kin: This is the Calvard School students about 1905-10. I think Calvard was the high school in North Murray County, Georgia, probably near Cohutta. As you can see reading the names on the back (if you can read my scrawl) the student body was well laced with our kin the Pettys and the Ridleys. Plus probably in-laws to be like the Coxes and Caylors. Click on 2ns picture to make it readable.

If we win the MEGA MILLIONS tonight.

On THE TODAY SHOW this morning they talked about the new grand prize of MEGA MILLIONS. It of almost $300,000,000. They had some general suggestions what to do if you do win. Among other thing they emphasized do not to tell anybody, “not even your mother!” We both added, “And especially “not her”, we pointed with our thumbs over our shoulders to Alexa.

Brother Will

Brother Will For 15 or so yeas I worked in the Time Keepers Office of the Atlanta Post Office. For a year or two I had no definite reporting time, or it was floating a reporting time. I mostly relieved other time keeper clerks on their off days. That is where I got to know Brother Will. I had to twice a week go an Atlanta Post Office outpost off Chattahoochee Avenue, The Parcel Pos Annex. It operated 24 hours a day, 7 days a week, so it had to have a timekeeper there he whole time. Brother Will worked from midnight to 8:30 AM, and twice a week I was there to take over when he got off. Brother Wil was laid back and never got upset, and seemed to have a not of running jokes with a lot of people on the workroom floor. Here are a few amusing facts about Brother Will. He was the father of 9 daughters. I remember when his 9th daughter was born he did not make it to the hospital for the because he was involved in a poker game.. Brother Will played a lot of poker on his off time.. One morning when I came to work the time keepers office smelled like farts, lot of farts. He chuckled and said, “You just caught me cooking eggs!. His wife was also a potal employee. She was late a lot. She was due in at 3:30pm, if I remember correctly. I wrote her up for being late a lots and most of the time it did did not bother her. But one time I remember she scolded me, saying I did not give her enough time.. Brother Will had a part time job with his own show on radio station WAOK. For a short time he was calling in sick a lots. One supervisor thought he would trap him so he recorded the time on his WAOK radio show he gave the weather and news, which was up to the minute. – which was the time he was out sick. I don’t know how he got out of that, but he was a very calm smooth talker. Once we were told of a new procedure we timekeepers would have to do. Most of the time keepers fussed and carried on. Brother Will said, “Just something to, it won’t kill us.” I think that sentence changed my whole outlook about working and cause me to respect Brother Will more.

Book Reporr on GALAPOS by Kurt Vonnegut

Book Report GALAPOS ISLANDS By Kurt Vonnegut. This story was written to take place while Jacqueline Kennedy Onassis was still alive. She is barely in it, she was invited to an event, accepted, then turned down the invitation along with other celebrities. It was billed as the “Cruise of the Century” Hundreds were to, but mostly only some of the help showed up. Charles Darwin, visited the islands in the 1800s and by studying the undisturbed by progress figured out Evolution and The Survival of the Fittest. The captain of the ship knows nothing about being a captain. He is just an impressive handsome figurehead. His assistant really gives commands and run things. If you are a Vonnegut fan and ran some of his books you know of the reappearing struggling science fiction writer Kilgore Trout. He is not in it, but his son is. The whole premise is that while at sea everybody in the world are done away with. They are the only humans left on earth. It is a humorous and it is deep. It is also confusing, some things I never did figure out. But it is an enjoyable read.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD #15's POT SHOT PETE!

Artisr and text: Editor Harvey Kurtzman. I think these were originally not made for MAD but as a filler for MARVEL Comics. Kurtzman was freelancing back then and MAD had not even been thought of yet.

Me Checking out Marina City

This is me, about 1965 looking at the model apartment at Marina City in Chicago for no apparent reason. Of course I had no intentions of renting or leasing an apartment I found out what I wanted to know: The apartments are shaped liked pie slices. I bet the agent was delightfully happy that I was wasting her time.

My Dogs Named Skipper, Arf!

When I was in about the 2nd grade we got a dog we named Skipper. We had him only a short time and he was ran over on Atlanta Street about 3 or 4 blocks away. Daddy, as a policeman, picked him up and brought him home where he died. I don’t remember much about this dog, but I do remember I was really upset when he died. After that we got another little puppy we also named Skipper. We picked him out of a litter of one of daddy’s friends who lived in the community of Elizabeth, just north of the hospital in Marietta, in fact, within a stone’s throw of what is now Brandi’s World Famous Hot Dogs. Skipper was part collie and part bird dog. He was as big as a collie or maybe bigger and had the pretty markings of a bird dog, white hair with some black spots, and black ears. We called him “Super Dog” because he could leap fences in a single bound and quiet a lady’s man. Several of our neighbors complained about Skipper fathering their sweet little female’s latest litter. That was before the leash law. Generally, where I rode my bike and walked to Skipper went with me, running a hundred feet or so ahead of me, exploring and sniffing things. We lived almost two miles from the center of Marietta. Then, we had a ’53 Chevrolet. Many times, probably more times than not, when we drove off towards town going to school or whatever, Skipper would chase behind us block after block. Finally we would give in, pull over and open the truck and he would jump in and when we returned home we would opened the trunk and he would jump out, stretch, and probably adjust his eyes to the bright day. I read in Judy's blog this morning that her cat found it a resting place in the back of her van when she was packing up stuff in the back – and went unnoticed. That reminded me of the time we were talking and one of us said, “Where is Skipper?” We haven’t seen him around for almost a week. It was not unusual for him to be gone for a day or two at a time. It happened so frequently we would not worry, knowing he would return soon. But this time was the longest he had gone. Had he been ran over? Did somebody steal him? We started trying to think the last time we saw Skipper and one of us remembered opening the truck for him to jump in on Lawrence Avenue. Oh no!!!!! We knew we had to do what we had to do. It was at least 3 days, but more likely 4 or 5 days. With hesitancy we went out and opened the trunk. Skipper jumped out, stretched, yawned, probably adjusted his eyes, and acted as if it was all routine – like, “What are you looking at?” The trunk was clean of any dog waste… no dog poo, no dog pee smell – just some white hair and sweat. We got to enjoy his company for a few more years. In fact, I am not sure of his fate. Mama said she gave him to a man who owned a farm out in west Cobb County - "With Skipper and his Tomcatting" causing my mother unneeded battles with the neighbors was probably the reason Skipper "retired" to a farm.

Miss Shouse and the Fire Escape and the Pidgeon Adventures

Miss Shouse My 5th Grade Teacher The first female I had a crush on was laid to rest yesterday. Miss Alberta Shouse Kinney was my 5th grade teacher. I wasn't the only boy in class that watched every move she made. I think there were about five or six or us, and it was very secret - we didn't even tell each other we belonged to a secrete Worship Miss Shouse Club. One time in class she asked me would I like to have a pet pigeon. “Would I ever!” I said something of that effect. After school that day I walked with her to her apartment. We went down Waterman Street to Atlanta Street, up Atlanta Street, through the downtown area, and after we passed North Park Square the street named changed to Cherokee Street. About four or five blocks down we turned on to Forest Avenue, where her apartment was. Her apartment was in an old two story house, I think that specialized in renting to teachers. I felt proud walking with the pretty perk lady by all the old and drunk men that seemed to always be in hanging out front of the courthouse. The night before, somehow she rescued the poor pigeon from being drowned in a downpour rain. She had the bird in a cardboard box with little holes punched in it. I carried the box with the pigeon home, which was probably close to a two mile walk. We lived in an older house on Manget Street, across from Larry Bell Park, with my grandfather. There was a little bathroom on one end of the back porch. It was the first bathroom before the house was upscale to a inside bathroom. Since no one used the back porch bathroom any longer, I considered it my den. I put the pigeon in the old bathroom with some bread pieces and closed the door for the night. The next morning I rushed in to feed and water it again and there was only a bunch of feathers. Either a rat or my grandfather’s cat managed somehow to get in and ate it or maybe it escaped. That morning in class Miss Shouse asked me how the pigeon was doing. I told her the pigeon was doing good (if you consider the pigeon no longer with us as “good”). I felt if I told her the real fate of the bird she would think less of me. Thinking back I think Miss Shouse reminded me Jane Russell. She was graceful, glamorous, and dark headed, just like Jane the Goddess. Maybe that had something to do with my thoughts. Either before the pigeon or after it that year, at recess the late Van Calloway shoved me against the fire escape. When my forehead hit the metal rail or something of the fire escape blood gushed. The impact cut a gash in my forehead. Miss Shouse helped me walk to the second floor to the teacher’s lounge. There she had me lie on a cot and she had some kind of towel on my cut and applied pressure. She sat holding it until my daddy could come and carry me to the old hospital. If I remember correctly, Doctor Haygood closed the wound with five or six stitches. After the bandages were removed my forehead looked something like the Frankenstein Monster, which wasn’t bad for an attention-getter. Miss S carried me to the teacher's lounge and padded and kept a towel on my head. She had my head in her lap. I found out how nice and soft unrelated women can be. We stayed in that position until my Daddy could get there in his police chief's car to rush me to the hospital. Darn! I was enjoying using her thighs as a pillow. With me getting the full concerned attention of my teacher made my pain go away. I knew when daddy came in quickly the pleasure was over. At the time Daddy was the Chief of the Marietta Police. The Marietta Daily (except Sunday) Journal had young male reporter by the name of Bill Kinney. Daddy took Bill with him on the biggest moonshine raid ever in Cobb County. The still was about where Wal-Mart, just north of Windy Hill Road, is now. I heard rumors that Bill got tipsy by the smell of the shine. Bill Kinney was courting Miss Shouse and she soon became Mrs. Kinney. Not long ago, I emailed Bill Kinney and told him about the pigeon episode and confessed his wife thought the pigeon was well cared for and I didn’t have the heart to tell her otherwise. He understood. Hello Eddie, While doing some research online today, I came across the article that you wrote about my mother, Alberta ShouseKinney. It was a very nice piece, and I appreciate the care that you took in writing it. She loved teaching fifth grade and shared stories about her days at Waterman Street School with us. In fact, I believe she told me a version of the pigeon tale. I don't know your full identity, Eddie, but I just want to thank you for writing a nice article about my mother. Sincerely, Pat Kinney Barner Eddie, Certainly you can reprint my e-mail, but let me share with you what may be "the rest of the story." (And you can print this.) As both of them tell the story: Mom was walking in front of the old courthouse when a pigeon sent its droppings down the middle of her face and onto the front of her dress. This insult could not go unpunished. So when Daddy learned of this indignity, he secured the aid of a young boy who captured a pigeon, placed it in a box and delivered it to her with a note saying "The culprit has been apprehended." So Eddie, It is possible that you were the recipient of the miscreant pigeon, though we will never know for sure. Thanks again, Pat

DEMOCRATIZATION

The word I learned yesterday is DEMOCRATIZATION. It is the process that something new is introduced. First only the elite can afford the new item, such as when cars were invented. Then Henry Ford came along and invented the assembly line... then cars were massed produced and everybody almost everybody can afford one. Many items crept into our lives like that and suddenly it became a way of life and changed our life style... some examples: Telephone, electricity, lights, car, record player, radio, tape players, CD players, smart phones, videos recording devices, computers, Cable TV, VCR, DVR, TiVo, and there are much more to come that we have not even thought up yet. But wait! The above were examples of the word DEMOCRIZATION. What is the word when these gadgets are replaced and phased out? Such as the record player and VCR? UNDEMOCRATIZATION? DE-DEMOCRATIZATION? DEMOCRATIZATIONLESS?

Boot Camp

Today Groover Fence Company did some repairs here. They put up our fence over 40 years ago. We talked about his first cousin, 5 brothers. Anyway, after he left I thought about his cousin Parks. I have know Parks since grammar school. After high School Parks went into the Air Force. There he was taught surveying. Surveying he had the adventure of a life time, surveying areas in and near New Zealand. Then he was transferred near Orlando and was able to come home often. He bough some kind of eccentric/classical car that had something like a straight 12 engine. In 1962, I joined the Naval Reserve. I was to go to a 2 week bootcamp at NAS Atlanta and go on 2 year active duty in July. The bootcamp was, I suppose, like a bootcamp was suppose to be: Everybody hopping and snapping to, taking every thing deadly seriously, and responding to questions loud and nervously short. This whar I was getting to: One night, after lights out, near midnight I think, the night guard and my group leader me up. They told me an Air Force Officer came to see me. He was in the Head waiting. I went to the head hurriedly, not taking the time to put my pants on, I only had skivvies on, like underwear. I opened the bathroom door and there stood Parks in an dressed Air Force uniform with officer bars on his shoulders. He burst out laughing. He told them he was an officer with Dobbins Airs Force and he was there to tell me personally that one of my grandparents had died. I forgot which one. Then he pulled out a whisky flask and both had a swig. Then he left. The group leader wanted to know what he wanted and I said it was personal. I’m surprised they didn’t say anything about my whiskey breath. Maybe Parks gave me a mint to chase it with.

Drucilla Wilson Huey (1826-1891)

The first is Drusilla Wilson Huey (1825-1905), wife of John T. Huey (1826-1891). Both Drusilla and John were born in South Carolina and died in Cherokee County, Georgia. They are buried in the Bascomb Methodist Cemetery, near Woodstock. John and Drusilla Huey were the parents of Nancy Elizabeth Huey Tyson (1854-1938)l She married Obediah Hargraves Tyson, they were my great grandparents (2nd picture). Their daughter, my grandmother, Minnie Victoria Tyson married Frank Paris Hunter By the time the Civil War came (1861) John T. Huey was a large land owner. Being a large land owner made him exempted from military duty. Rich people just didn't have to put their lives on the line in war time like the working class did. Another law back then, if you were drafted you could pay someone to serve in your place. Even though John T. Huey, did not have to go, a buck is a buck and went in place of John B. Tippens. During the Seize of Vicksburg, Mississippi John appeared to have been jumping back and forth to stay on the winning side. A couple of times he was AWOL from his CSA unit and he signed U.S. Oaths of Allegiance..... then he would be AWOL from the Union unit he was assigned to and back on the CSA mustard roll.

School's Boys' Bathroom Pissing Contest

Yesterday, here, we talked some about Waterman Street School. Here are two memories I recalled this morning: In the Boy’s Bathroom in the basement was where we boys, outside of the teacher’s jurisdiction we did things we could not do in classroom, such as pissing contests. When you first walked into the bathroom was a long cement latrine. It was probably about 12 feet long with a 3 or 4 inch deep ditch. It was designed to serve several boys at the same time. By just being there in the form it was in, it encouraged pissing competition. Boys, standing side by side, facing the plain wall, did not piss downward, they pissed upward. The higher the wall, the better. The winner most days was Archie Richardson. His stream at times got to where the wall met the ceiling. One time Archie lived behind my aunt on Forrest Avenue and he found a certain spot in the back of his yard was easy to dig up authentic arrowheads. Archie also introduced me to MAD comicbook, issue #4 to be exact. Since that MAD inspired me I collected all the issues and haven’t been the same since. To get to the Boy’s Restroom, one go down a long stairway. The girls’ is also down a stairway, on the opposite side of the building. But back to stairs to the boy’s bathroom. When you get to the bottom of the stairs there are two doors. One to the bathroom and one to the furnace room. One time the late Van Callaway and I, feeling adventurous, went into the furnace room. There we found a little “Man-Cave” for Cliff, the custodian. He had a chair, a table and a couple of boxes. The boxes were full of comcbooks. Comicbooks of all kinds! Super heroes, war, teenage such as Archie, romance, and so on. I think Cliff he custodian somehow got his hands on the comic books he found loose in the school building. They were so different tastes I don’t think he pursued a definite type, he grabbed whatever was available…. Or within his reach that no one was looking.

Marietta Train Station Depot

Marietta Depot and Loading Dock

Anna's great uncle Bob Bettis and Grandpa JO Prance

Anna's grandfather JO Prance getting a haircut from his uncle Bob Bettis's son on the cover of GEORGIA BACKROADS, Spring, 2016.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! Getting a Shot by Bud Grace

Statistics are a Valuable Tool

Yesterday evening we got an email from a vague delivering service that they could not deliver our package because the address was hard to read. And they supplied a link for us to supply them with the correct address. We did have a package in route to us from Amazon. However, we also got a email saying our package would be delivered before 10pm. So, how come they write again saying they can’t read the address? We get a lot of stuff from Amazon. Our address has never been a problem. We figured it was a scam of some kind and ignored the request. Which got me thinking, they were just stabbing in the dark with good odds they would randomly get in touch with somebody expecting a package. It seems I cannot drive over two blocks without seeing an Amazon truck or van or some other delivering service on the road delivering stuff. I bet the thieves know the exact odds of how many people are expecting packages at any moment. Maybe the organized crooks even hire marketing experts to calculate when and how much can they rob people of stuff. But why would a marketing expert or a statistician work for a bunch of crooks instead of making more money working in a legitimate outfit? Or maybe the question is why would a statistician work for a legitimate company when they can make more money in an illegitimate outfit? PS We received our package safely and well packed package with no thugs jumping out saying “This is a hold-up!”

Walt First!

Marie's Postcard Collection. The front of the card says "Excursion Steamer on Mississippi River, en Route to New Orleans, La. Once I went to Mud Island, at Memphis, to the Mississippi River Museum. There I learned a lot about rivers and how they operate naturally and how man has learned to control them. Yep, I sure did. I would share what I learned at the River Museum, right here and now, but I have poor retention. I forgot. But wait! I did see Walt Disney's first animated movie STEAMBOAT WILLIE introducing MICKY MOUSE. It was pretty good, considering.

No, Thank You!

It is strange how words can have different meanings as times changes. Or they can keep the original meaning but also add a different meaning. Today we were at a restaurant eating lunch and two businessmen met. One looked to be under 25 and the other one in his 60s. They shook hands and I overheard the young one say to the older one, “Thanks for COMING OUT.”

Frozen In Time, For a While

About 45 years ago I took this picture. I think it was on what was the Gordy family property. The Gordys own the famous VARSITY restuarant in Atlanta and its surrounding area. Now the land where I took this picture is either part of Gordy Parkway or a subdivision.

The Wright Brothers

The Wright Brothers, c1890. The Wright family members lived around Canton Road north of Kurtz Road and up the road to Woodstock, Georgia. A photographer probably came to town, set up a backdrop and took group photos for a fee. These six brothers are the sons of Isaac and Loveuia Adeline St. John Wright: They are Henry Gable, William "Bill", George "Dave", James T. "Jim", Berry Jackson "Kid", and Simon Wright. I don't know what order the names are in, in relation to the brothers in the picture, like left to right (like I'm use to) or what. The only person I think Ican identify is Henry Gable Wright, which is Anna's great grandfather, on the far right, or is that him second from the far right? The two other pictures are Henry with his wife Lula Kuykendall and Henry sitting with his legs crossed.

William and Emaline Ray Hunter on Main Street

Now, the house is no longer a home. It is a building for a tool rental company.

Take a Number

Yesterday, I went into a sweet shop knowing exactly what I wanted. There was a lady standing back studying what was on display behind the glass. The young lady behind the counter asked me could she help me. I was about to tell her when the lady standing studying the displays interrupted me and said to the young lady, “Why are you waiting on him when I was here first?” I looked over at her for the first time. She was a black middle age lady. The young lady behind the counter was speechless. So was I. By her distance in front of the case I thought she was not yet decided. The customer strayed on the young clerk and asked her name, then started using her name and finally said she wanted to speak to her boss, which she went and got, but stayed back in the back. Another young lady came and waited on me while the irate customer filled the manager’s ears how rude and inconsiderate she felt she was being treated. This sweet shop is right in the middle of yuppyville where everybody smiles. I think she clerk and the manager was caught off guard. The manager kept talking about her team. I bet now on the bulletin board in the back room saying something to the effect, “Attention Team! Wait on people in order as they enter and keep smiling.” And a note to myself: If somebody was already there say, “He/she was here firsr.”

My Runaway Tricycle

I'm glad you asked. See the 3 buildings up the hill? They are on Atlanta Street. When I was a kid, about 4 or 5, the building on the left was Sears & Roebuck. I think the middle one was Marietta Provision Co, and the right one was an Western Auto, all on the back side. When I got a tricycle I discovered it was easier not to pedal and depend on gravity when I could. See the narrow drive between the two buildings directly in front of you? Well, I reasoned, on my tricycle, from that point, if I, with my feet, give my self a push as a send off, I would have a blast coasting down the hill. I certainly did. I did not know any physics laws about gravity, that I would increase in speed as I went down. At a high rate of speed I went, and I took this picture recently, from about the point of contact that a car doing Waddell Street hit me. It knocked me out and I was unconscious for hours. When I woke up, on our couch, on block away, all the neighbor women were gathered around. They thought I was a goner and they were giving me a proper send-off. By the way, the day I took this picture we stopped and had a beer at what was the Sears & Robuck store, which now is Glove Park Brewery. Not bad.

When the Marietta Visitors Center was the Train Depot

This was one of my stops on Saturday morning when I was a kid. My friend Van Callaway’s father worked at the ticket sales window. We stopped there for Van to mooch some movie money off his dad. Our next stop was Schillings Hardware. As soon as we entered the hardware we were faced with a big scale which was probably used in the hardware business. We weighed weekly. Then we went to the show. Our first stop at the railway ticket window to hit Mister Callaway for Van’s movie window, Now, I like to think we stood in the same place as James Andrew, head of the Yankees’ Andrew’s Raider’s, when he bought his ticket for a ride to Big Shanty (Kennesaw) where he and his men stole The General locomotive, the same locomotive they rode to Kennesaw, thus THE GREAT LOCOMOTIVED CHASE started, Which also reminds me a year or so later Van’s father was transferred to Daltron so the family lived there, near West Hill Cemetery in Dalton. Van was still preferred Marietta and came down every chance he got. Afterall, as a dependent of a Railway employee the ride was free. One time when he came down he asked me did I want to go back with him to his folks house and spend the night. Sure, why not? I bought a two way ticket and we rode the train to Dalton. We walked from the train station to the house they lived in. It was after dark. His parents hit the roof. They told Van he should have got their OK before inviting me. His father took me back to the train station and I rode the train back in the middle of the night. Well, shoot! Speaking of passenger trains reminds me of my friend Larry carrying his sister and two of her friends to the MHS football game on a Friday night. A train has stopped at the train station, thus, the diner car was blocking the street a block away. People were in the dining car eating with white jacket waiters going back and forth. Some of the passengers dining were looking at the cars that they were blocking. Larry’s sister and her two friends mooned them. Just choo choo rambling.

Visiting the Hollywood Bowl during off hours

This morning (July 10th, 2022) on the Sunday Morning CBS New Show, was an article on the Hollywood Bowl. It told of the many famous stars, and musical groups who have performed there. We visited the Hollywood Bowl in the late 1990s. Our visit was an off day, and off hour, we were the only people there. On the CBS article this morning when they said HOLLYWOOD BOWL, Iimmediately thought of my sister-in-law Thelma. Thelma sung one time at the Hollywood Bowl. She visited it one time and she and whoever was with her, like us, were the people there. I saw the video, I remember correctly, she sung AMAZING GRACE. To make this all about me, I think I am the only person in the whole world, who has a sister in-law named Thelma, who sung in the Hollywood Bowl, to 18,000 empty seats, with the audience of at least one (the person with the camera).

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD#15's GASOLENE VALLEY or whatever

Story by editor Harvey Kurtzman, art by his buddy Will Elder

Hunter Brothers Wives Line Up

August 1977 - My dad (Ed Hunter) and my mom and my dad's brothers and their wives: L to R: Bus & Zema; Ed & Janie; Jack & Ruby; Doug & Lola Jean; Stanley & Sarah; and Dick & Jeanette Hunter. The oldest brother, Herbert Hunter had died the year before and the only sister Beatrice "Bee" Hunter Crain had died in 1971. Their brother Walter Clarence "W.C." Hunter was in the Veterans' Hospital at the time. Johnny Hunter once pointed out that they always lined up in chronological age order. This time they are oldest on the left and work to younger on down the line. I guess they just automatically did it, I took the picture and I didn't tell them to do it.

Hunter Siblings & Cousins Having Fun

Grown Siblings and Cousins Having Fun. This picture was probably taken in the 1920s in the Woodstock, Georgia. The only male in the picture is Bus Hunter (1906-2005). Bus was married to Zelma Olga. The young lady 2nd on his left is his sister Bee (1903-1971). Bee was married to Robert Spencer Crain. Bus and Bee are the children of Frank Paris Hunter and Minnie Tyson. The other three ladies are their first cousins that lived in or near Woodstock, I do not know which one is which, but here are their names: Eva Octavia Poor (1904-1999) daughter of Arminta Jane Hunter and Lewis Franklin Poor) married John Alden Lanier; Lois Hunter (1895-1998), married a Carroway, and Jacie Hunter (1898-1974) married Vernon Tip Ingram. Lois and Jacie are the daughters of William Jason Hunter and Fannie Medley.

Book Reportr on REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURES by Shelby Van Pelt

Book report on REMARKABLY BRIGHT CREATURES by Shelby Van Pelt. Not long ago I saw a video on how smart and mechanical minded octopi are and they have been on my mind since. This book came along and I read it. It is the first book by Shelby Van Pelt. The story takes place in a small seaside town in the state of Washington. Zooming in, it focuses in on a select bunch of people who have regular jobs for the area they live in, like the Marina for example. Chances are you know of somebody that could would fit right in with this bunch. The marina has some local sea life to see, for a price. One of the creatures on display is an octopus. He is cunning and keeps a diary in his mind. After closing time he has a run of the building. He can only be out of the water for a short time. He unlocks doors, padlocks and so on. He fascinated by human finger prints. Somehow the octopus has figure out the genealogy line of his keeper. I think he did it with the humans’ finger prints. I got lost in the explanation. It is a good clean book (discounting the smell of fish).

THE GREAT SPECKLED BIRD & Ernie Marrs

In playing a little Facebook make believe game you were to make up something untrue about the person you are verbally dueling with. Marian Wagner made up that I worked with her at THE GREAT SPECKLED BIRD. I jokingly said, "I thought you was Ernie Marrs!" Let me tell you about THE GREAT SPECKLED BIRD and Ernie Marrs: If you are young or new to the area, you might not heard of either. THE GREAT SPECKLED BIRD was an Atlanta underground newspaper in the late 1960s and 1970s. It bravely took on the establishment in stories, political cartoons, and editorials. Hippy-looking people on street corners peddled the newspaper. It was well done and very informative. One of the editors was the late Ernie Marrs. Earnie was a song writer, singer, poet, philosopher, and roofer, which was his day job, that he did not quit. Ernie wrote several songs that made it high on the charts. The one that comes to mind is "DASHBOARD JESUS." A co-worker, Pat, knew Ernie well. They were regulars at the Stein Club on Peachtree, just south of 10th Street. One time, I think it was a Sunday Anna and I were driving around with Pat and she was telling us all about Ernie Marrs. She asked if we wanted t meet him and we said yes. He lived in Little Five Points in a garage apartment. When we got to the steps leading to his apartment I had been drinking some, and had to pee. I thought I would use Ernie's bathroom. I couldn't hold it much longer. I was the first one up the stairs knocking on the door. No one came. Ernie was not at home. Like I said, I could hold it any longer, so I urinated off the top landing of his steps, facing the big looming buildings of Atlanta. Anna and Pat were waiting in the car. Then I heard footsteps running up the stairs. I introduced myself to Ernie Marrs and shook his hand with my only free hand. We had an instant party. He played some good music and poured the booze. He was glad to see us, or I suspect he was glad to see Pat. He pulled out correspondence he had with Bob Dylan and other nobles of the topical folk world and read and pointed out things in the letters. I think we had a party and invited him once and if I remember correctly, he had to work late, those roofs don't put themselves on, you know.

SAVANAH BANANA

Savannah Banana Baseball. On THE TODAY SHOW this morning they had an article about a baseball team in Savannah. It is the SAVANNAH BANANA BASEBALL TEAM. Of course, the feature was only minutes long. It looked like a team with the easiness trickery plays of the HARLAN GLOBE TROTTERS and gracefulness of RADIO CITY MUSIC HALL’S ROCKETTS. I wonder what their game is? Well, I know what their game is: Baseball. Do they play to win, or to just to have a good time with a dab of mockery? Who do they play? What league? Do they ever get mad over the umpires’ calls? Do they ever get into real fist fights?

Idolizing a Politician

Tom Hunter of Asheville, NC

This is Tom Hunter, from Asheville, NC, at the Hunter Reunion at Track Rock Campground near Blairsville, Georgia, some years ago. I think Tom's first time coming to this was the same time I was there for the first time. Everybody there knew everybody, except Tom and I. Through the years we got to know our distant cousins. That day I met Tom Hunter he was very shy and quiet. I think he said he was a locksmith. His wife and preteen daughter were with him. Through the next 25 or so years I attended the reunions off and on and so did Tom. Only seeing them one day every year or so I could easily see change that occurred the past 12 months to 24 months. The first year I could see little change. Tom didn't seem quiet as shy, but his preteen daughter hung close to her parents, it was like she was thinking, "I don't know these people." Maybe the second or third year Tom and his daughter came but his wife was not there. I asked him where was his wife and he said she died. Then Tom dressed more stylish, grew a mustache, and smiled more. He seemed more talkative. And during that time his daughter, now a teenager, dressed more stylish. And I think she may have brought a boy friend... my memory is not clear on that. I haven't been since 2008, eight years ago. Tom may be Grandpa Tom with several grand youngons in tow.

Larry McDonald in 4th of July Parade

This is Congressman Larry McDonald (1935-1983) in an Independence Day Parade on the 4th of July about 1980. I was using my 35mm Minolta with a barrel 200mm zoom lens. Larry stopped the parade and posed so I could get some good shots. I suppose with that shotgun looking lens he might have thought I was the press. Surprise! As we know the Korean Airlines plane he was flying in September 1, 1983, was shot down by Soviet Interceptors for violating air space. I just noticed that the flight number was 007. As in Bond, James Bond. Ironic isn't it?

Boy Scouts Troop 132

Boy Scout Camp, Troop 132. Camping out at George and Mike Hobby's daddy's property he bought off Macland Road. Left to Right: Mickey Griffin, ?, Me, and Tony Hester. That was the night George Hobby raised my sleeping bag up on a flag pole and blasted it with a shotgun. .... all, in good old boy fun. Mickey Griffin was a fun loving kid. He used to walk around with me and my dog named Skipper when I delivered The Atlanta Journal newspapers and we do all kinds of mischievous tricks. When I think of Tony Hester I remember the time I was showing him and Gene Sanges a trick I learned: climb up one small tree, and at the top get it swinging and when it swung wide enough I could gracefully grab an identical size and type tree, latch on to it and artfully shinny down the tree. I already did it twice alone, now I was ready to show off for an audience. I got Tony and Gene down at the bottom watching me and I skillfully climbed the tree near the top and got it swinging back and forth like I did two other times. That is the last thing I remembered for several hours, the tree top broke and I fell to the ground and was knocked out. Tony thought I was playing a joke and went home and got his wagon and came back and he and Gene put me in the wagon and carried me to his back yard where his two little sisters Peggy and Lulu were playing with their dolls. Tony told me if I didn't get up he was going to take off my clothes. I didn't get up and they took off my clothes. Then they thought I was dead. They put me back in the wagon (naked) and carried me home, over a block away. Nobody was at home so they left me in my bed an left. Later my parents came home and was startled to see me in bed in the middle of the day, naked, and I had no idea why. The lightening in that picture looks something like the Blair Witch Project doesn't it?

Peachtree Road Race T-Shirts (for braggarts)

I ran the Peachtree Road Race 1984 thru 1987. Four years. To people in my category it was not a "Race" per se, it was just a lot of people having a good time. I had my number for the 1988 Race but my brother-in-law Tommy Prance drowned two days before I did not run. We were mourning. I never ran the Peachtree again,. I have a short attention span. It was time to move on. Today we were cleaning out our own basement and throwing out things without mercy. If we haven't used or worn anything in years, we packed it for the Goodwill. I carried two truckloads of stuff to Goodwill today. While we were cleaning out in the bottom of a wardrobe was all my Peachtree T-shirts. By the rules we were giving stuff to the Goodwill I should have given them my Peachtree Road Race Shirts. I couldn't do it. I earned each of them, well, "earned" may not be the right word, maybe "sweated" would be the right word. I sweated for each of those t-shirts. It is like somebody buying a Pulitzer Award Statue and claiming they earned it.