Then: "I'm In The Navy Now"

I went on active duty in the Navy July 10, 1963. I joined up because of the Cuban Missile scare. I and 4 or 5 other E-2 reservists flew by private carrier to Charleston, South Carolina. Charleston Naval Yard (I think what they called it) is a Transient station. It appeared to me that the Transient system could handle several hundred men at one time. Definition of a Transient: One just out of training waiting for his orders By talking to other transients the average waiting time is about 30 days. Notice I said "his", meaning the male gender. I saw no females also in transient status. In a big parking lot between two barrack buildings on the pavement were numbers evenly spaced from each other. The organizers issued little tags with numbers that matched the numbers on the pavement. In the morning at 8:00am, if I remember correctly, you are expected to be standing on your number. Then the group leaders come in and look over the transients to pick out who will be in their particular detail for the day. I felt like I was in a slave auction. I almost expected a NCO pry my mouth opened to see my teeth. Each day I went with different bunches of men to do various jobs. The ones I remember: Washing dishes in the mess hall’ cleaning the NCO Club; cleaning the Marines NCO Club; and the worse was to paint a deck on FDR presidential yacht (it was docked on the Cooper River in the historical part of the docks. I was wearing my blues, non-dress, and a wave gave the yacht a good rock which knocked me into the freshly painted deck that I just painted. I had gray paint all over my arms and legs sleeves. I don’t remember how I got it off. The picture in this article I found on Google, under FD Presidential Yacht -about four were shown, the one here is the one I remember looking like it. The group leaders watched you work and if they liked the effort you made they could request for you to work with them every day. Then you did not have to stand on your dumb number in the parking lot every morning. It was sort of a prestige appointment. After about ten days I was chosen to work in the movie theater. Another guy who was from something like Newnan, Georgia, and I was chosen to work in the theater to do grunt work. I don't know how or why my mother did it, but she became telephone friends with the mother if my work-mate. That was before the Internet and Facebook. I was happy. And even happier when I found what my duties were. I emptied the “shit cans” (that is what the female yeoman called them) in her outer office and the division officer’s inner office “shit cans” And give both “heads” the once-over. Then after lunch we met the group leader, the chief in the theater and watched a movie. We sat in a little cluster so we could make comments on what we were watching. We got to be friends. I heard a lot in the barracks about the wild bars just outside the gate and also the private homes near the area with signs in their yards that said “DOGS AND SAILORS KEEP OFF THE GRASS”. My theater -worker-buddy and I decided to check it out. The Charleston Navy base is/was a few miles long. Our barracks was on one end and the gate was on the other end. They had bus service that ran up and down the main road. Outside the gate were bars and “clubs” , all well lit, lining both sides of the street all with loud music and "door" men trying to lure you inside the joint they represented. Remember most of the sailors you see on this street have just got off a ship and haven’t had a drink or even seen a woman for months. We chose a bar that seemed to have heavy traffic going in and out. Something inside must be good. Inside there was a long line of sailors to the bar where behind the bar mixing drinks was a cute girl with a big smile on her face and a big jar that said “TIPS” filled with green money of $10s and $20s. We got closer to see why she was so special. She would asked her current customer would they like the special “stir”? Of course they did. She watched to make sure they “fed the kitty”. She reached down in her short shorts and stir her hand around her crouch then brought out her hand with one finger erect and stirred the drink. She was mixing drinks with a masturbating finger. She was making loads from horny sailors that haven’t been near a woman in months. I wonder what kind of grade the county health inspectors gave the establishment? We were too cheap. We walked back through the gate to take a bus back to the barracks. On the way back the bus driver was hateful to all on the bus and a couple of times told people to quiet down or he was going to pull over and make everybody get off. One man challenged him and they got into a name calling fight. Come to find out, the guy that challenged him was a Lt. Commander… guess who instantly became quiet and humble? One afternoon while watching a movie with my theater friends the female yeoman came in and told me to report to Window # 9 at the Transient office, which I did. At Window #9 a young man gave me my new orders to the USS J.K. TAUSSIG at Lakehurst, NJ. He also gave me an airplane ticket to Philadelphia and a bus ticket from Philadelphia to Lakehurst, New Jersey . He added that to get from the airport to the bus station would have to come out of my pocket. The flight was only a couple hours away. I had to hustle to the barracks, pack, and be on that plane in a short time – and I only had $10 in my pocket.

Osmo, Bar Fighter

This picture is first cousins Stanley and Osmo Petty, before 1941, in Detroit. Siblings Osmo and Opal Petty went to Detroit to find employment, they heard it was easy to get a job in Detroit. Their first cousin Stanley Petty went with them. I think they had no trouble finding jobs, also no trouble getting into fights. Opal told me Osmo loved to go to bars and get into fights.

Billy Petty with family

This is Billy and Rodney Petty, sons of my uncle Roy Petty and his wife Dorothy Humes, about 1959. This same Christmas card photo was used as an insurance advertisement and was in Saturday Evening Post. At the time they lived in New York City. Later they moved to Carmel, NY, where Roy was over Clear Pool's Boy Camp, a Heinz Foundation project. The second picture is of me and some Navy friends visiting Clear Pool Camp and played cowboys and Indians. Rodney and Billy and in that picture also. That was about 1964. The color picture was taken about 1985 of Billy and his wife Joy when they visited Marietta. They live in Colorado. PS click on the picture of the boys camp. You see the dog without a tail. On a previous visit when I was in the Navy we were on walking on a road that went around a lake and a car went around the curve past and almost hit us, but swerved and hit the dog. The mishap cut the dog's tail off.

On PBS last night we watched Dick Cavett talk about and praise Groucho Marx. First, my first impression was, “Wow! Dick Cavett is now a wrinkled old man!” We watched him a lot back in the 70s when he was young, witty, charming, articulate with his choice of words, and so on. Through the years he had grown close to Groucho, which he really appreciated and tried to show that appreciation. Groucho was witty, blunt, wise-cracker, wordy, and Grocho-like. I think it would be fair to say Dick mildly worshipped Groucho, and now in his late 80s he is still t getting more mileage out of his compulsiveness And I enjoyed every minute of it. Woody Allen said Groucho Marx was like every wise cracking Jewish uncle that showed up at every family get together. Groucho was a man of letters. He wrote plenty of letters. He published his letters. The name of the book is THE GROUCHO LETRTERS. And they were entered into The Library of Congress, which he was proud of. When the cover of the book was shown I told Anna “I have that book!” Which this morning I found it. The name of it is “THE GROUCHO LETTERS”, which now I will start rereading. Not to shoot Groucho down or anything, but I thought all copyrighted material The Library of Congress gets a copy. We went to THE DICK CAVETT SHOW back in the early 1970s. That night he had as a guest star Carrie Snodgrass of the movie DAIRY OF A MAD HOUSEWIFE. I think along that same time ( same week or near) Governor Lester Maddox walked off his show.

Plastic Jesus

Posted on Facebook 9 years ago: My Facebook friend Kathie Stehr had something about Atlanta's underground newspapers of the 60s and maybe the early part of the 70s THE GREAT SPECKLED BIRD yesterday. It reminded me of the time I met Ernie Marrs, a writer and editor for THE GREAT SPECKLED BIRD. Ernie was not only a writer and editor of the BIRD, he was also a poet and song writer. He had written several songs that sold well. The one that stands out is PLASTIC JESUS. He was also friends with Bob Dylan. But he didn't quit his day job, he was also a roofer. Years ago, shortly after we were married we were having drinks with one of Anna's co-workers Pat at the Redwood Lounge (which I renamed the REDNECK Lounge) in Little Five Pints and Pat was telling us about her friend Ernie Marrs, which essentially she told us just about what I told you in the above paragraph except the PLASTI JESUS part. Pat said, "Well lets go see him, he just lives across the street." We went across the street and behind the house to a garage in the back. Above the garage was an apartment, with steps on the side, leading up to a door to the apartment. I forgot the details but I remember I was alone at the top of the landing knocking on Ernie's door. The girls must have been waiting in the car. After drinking all that beer at the Redneck Lounge I felt I had to urinate then - no waiting, I was about to burst. Being woozy, and with no better sense, I pulled it out and starting urinating from the landing at the top of the stairs, with a good view of Atlanta. Then, behind me on the stairs I heard somebody quickly climbing the steps. I turned around and that was the first time I met Ernie Marrs. I switched hands and shook hands with him. He didn't seem to mind. I told him Anna and Pat was down in the car. He motioned for them to come up and they did. Come to find out he had the hots for Pat. He played us some of his songs he had written and we drunk some of his beer. He enjoyed our surprised visit as much as we did. It been so long ago I forgot the details but I think we had a few other encounters with him - but Anna and I were invisible, he was always focused on Pat.

Overheard

Part of an actual conversation today at a family get together (close if not exact): Daughter :"Then the metal part of the sledge hammer flew off the handle and knocked me in the head. Mama placed her hand on my wounded head and said, "In the name of the Lord, Heal!"" Mother : "And she healed!" Daughter: "Then she told me not to tell anybody!" Another relative said the mother's name and said, "If I had known you could do that I would have come to see you when I was having prostate problems!" Everybody cracked up. Is that relative super witty or what? Pardon me, I like to relive moments like this.

3D POOL SHARK Woke Up!

Many years ago I bought the program 3D POOL SHARK. It used to be fun. The pool balls looked real with the balls the right color with the right color, and the English angle of bouncing is just right and I really enjoyed it. After a year or so I begin to have problems. It would freeze or knock itself off. I think probably I added a software that it did not get along with. Maybe they competed for the some of the things. So, instead of fighting with it, I knew who would win, I just quit using it. I had plenty other things to do (for example genealogy), anyway. Now, years later this morning, it was back on my screen. I did not to waste my time putting up with its eccentric ways, I press to exit. In bright letters it asked me WHY? I played a game of rotation and it worked perfectly. It was just like old times. I felt an old run-away pet had returned. I felt like I should give it a bowl of milk or something. It was getting volt and my approval, that was all he/she wanted.

Atlanta Late Historian Frankllin Garrett and Me

I started re-reading an Arcadia book about the history of Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta. If you haven’t been to Oakland Cemetery you need to go if you are interested in the history of Atlanta, Marthasville, and Terminus. Atlanta’s late official historian of Atlanta, Franklin Garrett is buried in Oakland. Here is a picture I took of his and his wife’s marker. Each time Franklin Garrett’s name comes up I am reminded of our one-time interaction. During the period I live and breathed family history I called the Atlanta History Society and asked to speak to a Atlanta historian. Franklin Garrett answered the phone.. I asked him about my ancestor who was wounded in the Civil War during the time the Battle of Atlanta was going on. I wanted to know what part of Atlanta was his unit at. Franklin told me to hold on and put me on hold. He came back in 10 minutes or so and told me Peachtree Creek, near what is now Piedmont Hospital. I have read that he was shot in the knee at a spring on Kennesaw Mountain. I asked him how could that be? He told me to hold on. Fifteen or so minutes he came back and told me some units got separated. That spurned another question. He said hold on. He came back in near 20 minutes and told me his theory. Which caused me to ask another question. He said something to the effect, “Can you keep you questions and ask them all at one time? I am having to walk up a flight of stairs for each question and it is wearing me out.”

Do Animals Talk at 12 O'Clock Christmas Eve?

DO ANIMALS TALK AT MIDNIGHT ON CHRISTMAS EVE? Years ago, before there was color TV, there was a weekly drama/sitcom on called MAMA. Mama's family were immigrants. I think they were from Norway or Sweden; or someplace like that. I know their accent they use "Yah" a lot, instead of "yes" or "yeah". I think they lived in an urban setting yet, in their garage or utility building they used it has a barn. They kept livestock in it. There were Mama, Poppa, and about three stairstep children: two teenagers and one adolescent. It was sort of a depressing sitcom of immigrants trying to adjust to our city slicker way of life. I don't remember but one of the stories, their Christmas story. It was about from the country they were from the story handed down that on Christmas Eve at midnight animals talked. The story line were that the kids were going to spend the night in the barn/garage and talk to their cow at midnight. They had good intentions, but all fell asleep before midnight, so they never knew if old Betsy had anything to say or not - or if the legend was true or not. This morning I had a talk with Willow. Me: Willow, have you thought about what you are going to say tonight? Willow: Tilted her head sideways, like saying , "What?... I don't understand?" Me: You know, tonight, Christmas Eve you can talk. Have you thought about what you are going to say? Willow: Tilted her head the other way. Me: And I was wondering, what sort of accent would you have. Willow: Stretched. Me: And would you say something insightful and profound to say or just daily "nice weather" talk? Willow: Yawn. Me: I guess we will just have to wait until tonight to find out. Willow: Asleep.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! HUMBUG Magazine. Christmas issue. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

HUMBUG Magazine only lasted for about 11 issues. The public was not ready for their kind of humor. The were mostly refugees from MAD Magazine. In fact, the editor of HUMBUG created MAD Comic book. The cover of this was illustrated by Jack Davis. The story was illustrated Arnold Roth. And the inside subscription ad was illustrated by the best MAD illustrator ever, Will Elder. Bill also illustrated the kid sitting on Santa's lap. But do not take this ad seriosly, HUMBUG has long been out of business. The only survivor is Al Jaffee and he just turned 101. Here goes:

I'm a Good Listener

About 1985 I went to a family reunion up in the North Georgia Mountains. I have been to this branch of the family reunion several times before and got to know some of my distant cousins. I went with George to his car to help him carry drinks to the food table. George is married to my distant cousin, so that makes George a distant-cousin-in-law. We had a long walk. On the way I asked him what was new. He asked me did his wife tell me he was being considered to be head of his department at a prestigious college he was a professor at. I said, yes she did. George said, “Well, I didn’t get it.” He went on to say how sorry and low-down was the person that did get it. He said the only thing he had working for him was his mouth, he was a smooth talker. The more he talked about it the more angrier he got. His voice was quivering and he was crying. I calmed him down as best I could and we carried the drinks back to the food table. I don’t thin anybody suspected he was very upset just minutes before. Whoever picked George’s adversary to be head of he department probably knew what he/she was doing. George died about t wo years later and his wife, also an educator, died shortly after that. But this story is taking a turn to a completely different subject, abut will tie itself in. I am reading (or looking) at the book MAN AND SUPERMAN AND OTHER STORIES ILLUSTRATED BY HARVEY KURTZMAN. The late Harvey Kurtzman is known widely for creating MAD comicbook and magazine and two EC Publishing War comicbooks. He also contributed a lot to the other EC comic books, such as SCIENCE FANTASY, CRIME and more. This book is a collection of his other stories he created for EC. Today I read/looked/ Kurtzman’s THE MAN WHO RACED TIME. Guess what it about? It is about a college professor who had hopes of getting promoted to the head of the department but some else, a smooth talker, was picked instead and he didn’t take it well. Just like George! Of course this guy blew off steam by plotting revenge which the rest of tIhe story is about. I was amazed at the similarity of George and the comicbook story. The first 2 pages were identical. Like I said Georges event was about 1985 and Kurtzman wrote and illustrated the story in 1950s. No plagiarism.

Gov Roy Barnes & Dan Cox, Marietta Museum of History

My First Trip to New York City

New York City is on our minds lately as we are making plans of being there in a couple of weeks. My first visit to the Big Apple comes to mind. It was in late August 1963. In the Navy I had just arrived at my new assignment at NAS Lakehurst, New Jersey, Helicopter Utility Squadron Four (HU-4). In the barracks I was assigned a cubical that I would share with three other men. HU-4 supplied helicopter support to non-aviation ships. So, at all times I think there were at least 100 men in helicopter detachments on ships. The good part is they were not in the barracks. So, although my cubical was for four men, two were all on detachments. The one remaining man (besides me) in the cubical was a little short guy named Marlow from Maryland. Marlow was witty and on top of what you said. Nothing got by him. We introduced ourselves and somehow Marlow knew I have never been to New York City. He said, “Lets go, it is just up the road (60 miles).” We took the bus to New York City that Saturday morning. I was very impressed as we started declining down a spiral road. Right then, from the Jersey side the city looked big and overwhelming. We went through a tunnel under the Hudson River. I don’t remember if it was the Lincoln Tunnel or the Holland Tunnel. Then, out tunnel and into the city. I saw buildings with clothes lines between buildings, some people with their torsos half out their windows talking to people on the street. Then the bus when into the huge Port Authority building, a terminal for buses. Marlow and I walked down 42nd Street and Times Square, with me being amazed at everything I saw. Then we took a subway to either the Bronx or Brooklyn. We visited a relative or friend of Marlow’s for a while then returned to Manhattan. I don’t remember what we saw then, it all blended in with my awwness. When it got dark, back to the 42nd Street area with all the carnival loud come-ons and music. We went into, if I remember correctly the Peppermint Lounge with Chubby Checker, or a Chubby Checker look-like singing “THE TWIST”. Then as it got late, we had planned to go to the cheapest place in town to sleep, The William Sloan Y.M.C.A. house. Just as we arrived in the front a young Italian or Greek looking man emerged from the darkness and asked if we were looking for a place to crash. I knew what he was up to and said no. He was persistent and offered that Marlow could stay with him and he would pay for my room at the Sloan House. What a deal for me! I think Marlow knew what he was up to too. He walked me inside the building and he paid the desk clerk. He probably got a discount for being a repeat customer. Marlow and I agreed to meet at Port Authority the next day at whatever time. The bad thing about the William Sloan House the rooms did not have bathrooms. You had to go to a public bathroom and share the facilities with about 20 other men. The next morning, I explored by myself and discovered the New York Public Library was on 42nd and 5th Avenue and other places… got to hear several street singers at a little park behind the library. I reported to the Port Authority at the preplanned time and Marlow wasn’t there. I suppose they were having one for the road. I went into the bar and had a drink, a Manhattan, I think. Then another. After the second one I went to the telephone booth and looked up Harvey Kurtzman, creator of MAD Magazine He was my hero, as Charlie Brown said, I just mildly worshipped the ground he walked on. I found his name living in, I think, Mt. Vernon, New York, just outside the city. The two Manhattans swelled my balls, so I called him! He answered the phone! He was very pleasant. We swapped a few one sentence notes via mail for the next few years. Marlow finally showed up and the code of silence was, without saying, was placed on us, I was not to ask what went on with him and his new friend and well, “what happened in NYC stays in NYC” We got back in time to dinner in the chow hall. In the chow hall line I met Don Lash, who became a lifetime friend. In line I told him I just saw New York for the first time. Don, being a people person, who can tune into your frame of mind, horned in I was hiding something, and he lit up smiling pumping we with questions. And that was my first trip to New York City. Many more visits over the next two years and the last one not long after Anna and I got married, about 1970. And now here we go again! Postcard of William Sloan YMCA in NYC

Old Man Winter is here!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

vPeople have often thanked me for my service (Navy 1960s). My instant reply is something like “Aw Shucks! There was nothing to it.” But wait! Then I think of this picture I made sitting at my desk in the I & E Office. It had to be made on a certain kind of graphic paper so it could be printed on the duplicating machine. And I had to make my MERRY CRHISTRMAS letters backwards to it would print frontwards, sort of like a mirror. That was before scanning machines I suppose. Do you realize how much work that was? MERRY CHRISTRMAS!

The Big Chicken Wishes You a Merry Christmas

from Marietta, Ga!

On Dasher!

Posted on Facebook about 2020: The other day we were driving over a bridge and a car quickly cut in the lane in front of us causing me to put on our brakes. The car had reindeer pretend antlers or horns on the two front windows. Then the car quickly changed lanes in front of a car again, and you could see the car it almost hit had to put on their brakes like we did. I said to Anna: "It must be Dasher!" (true story)

SUNDAY FUNNIES: SUNDAY FUNNES STRIPS OF REAL POSTAGE STAMPS

Besure and click on image, they will be prettier.

Foster Family

Anna's mother Marie's father's side of the family. The picture was taken about 1904. Left to Right, first row: The father of the family Charles Brooks Foster (1856-1928); Anna's grandfather Paul Everett Foster (1895-1936); and The mother of the family Ardella Catherine Vincent Foster (1857-1933). Second row: Edgar Bell Foster (1884-1932); Lena Mae Foster (1877-1939); and Claudius Linton Foster (1888-1965). They lived in the Roswell, Alpharetta, Milton, Georgia, area.

The Marietta Hunter Boys

Hunter Reunion, in the 1970s. The Hunter Brothers, the backbone of the Marietta Hunter Reunions when they were in their prime. This one is dated August 7, 1977. The missing siblings are Herbert, Bee, and W.C. W.C. was in the Veterans Hospital in Millegeville. Herbert and Bee had passed on. Of course as almost always, they are lined up in age order when posing for a picture. Left to right: Bus and Zelma, Ed and Janie, Jack and Ruby, Doug and Lola Jean, Stanley and Sarah, and Dick and Jeanette.

Postal Workers Are Heroes

Posted on Facebook 7 years ago: A true story that I was part of: I also worked undeliverable mail, or NIXIE, the official word. Once I received a post card to a guy and his girlfriend. It had no return address. The card said that she had been seeing another suitor and they are go get married unless she hears from him in so many days. The card was being returned to sender for additional postage, it had no postage at all on it. Return to what sender? It had no address on it. As a group effort, four or five of us chipped in enough change to buy one postage stamp so at least the guy would have a choice to get in touch with her or not.

MAD again

Posted on Facebook 5 years afo: I picked up our mail at the post office yesterday. While walking to the car I was flipping through the envelopes and magazines to see what all we had. A Christmas card from my fellow comicbook connoisseur Par stood out. It stood out because in the place of a Christmas stamp or any kind of regular postage stamp was a postage stamp duplicating the cover of a MAD's paperback of years ago, INSIDE MAD. (see picture). I made a pedestrian U-turn on the sidewalk. I heard of people ordering stamps with their favorite photograph of pets or children. That must have been what Par did. I was going back inside the post office and ask a window clerk how could I order stamps like this and was it too late for Christmas. As I was walking into the building and flipping through our mail again, I saw that actually the INSIDE MAD picture was the return address on the TOP LEFT side and on the TOP RIGHT side was a Christmas stamp. I U-Turned again. Never mind. Am I MAD INSIDE? What me a dyslexic?

Jesse

Today while shopping my old friend Jesse was on my mind. The last I heard Jesse was an electrician by trade but by skill and profession, a blackjack dealer in Mississippi. I think the reason I was thinking about Jesse today was because of the crowd. No matter where you look there are crowds. Jesse had a special trick he used to play on me in crowds: If a lady is in front of me Jesse would manage to get behind me and run his hand around me and either grab or pinch her on the butt and withdraw his hand quickly. The lady would turn around quickly and see me and if she saw Jesse standing behind me he would be looking blankly clueless. More than once I have been threatened because of his sneaky grouping hands. I remember one time in particular we were standing on some steps going up to the second level of a new golf driving range on the 4-Lane across from Dobbins Air Force Base. We were waiting for the crowd of people to move on up to the top so we could follow. The lady in front of me jumped and turned around and gave me a dirty look. It took me a moment to realize Jesse was no longer beside me but behind me. When she turned back around I looked at Jesse and he smiled - showing a mouth full of teeth. He tried doing it again and I blocked his hand, then he tried to force his hand and we made a ruffling noise and turned around and realized the full story. or, I think she did. Her and her boy friend moved up a few people away from one of our reach. Jesse was also good at coming up behind you when you didn't realize he was near and grab your rectum area and quack like a mad duck. He did it so sneakily and his hands felt so much like a riveting duck's bill it causes you to instantly panic. His first cousin Larry Southern was also very good at quacking and his hand imitating a snapping duck. Those were the good old days.

THE GENERAL & THE BISCUIT WAR

This is the famous Cyclorama ‘s THE BURNING OF ATLANTA. It is crammed with historical details. If you look close or the guide points it out, you can see Rhett Butler and Miss Scarlett. It is gigantic. If I remember correctly the art surrounds the visitors, which moves slowly on some kind of conveyer. It was on the grounds of Grant Park, just a stone’s throw from the Atlanta Zoo. That is where I saw it both times. Then, in the lobby or foyer of the Cyclorama was the TEXAN train engine. If you saw Walt Disney’s movie THE GREAT LOCOMOTIVE CHASE it was the TEXAS that was in hot pursuit of THE GENERAL. Now THE BURNING OF ATLANTA’s home is in the Atlanta Historical Society building on West Paces Ferry Road, near the Governor’s Mansion. I have been to their museum only once and that was when I was showing my friend Bluto from L.A. the highlights of Atlanta. When we first entered the museum the first employee (guide, dossier) was a friend. This was the year 2011. In the year 2000, after I retired from the Postal Service, this lady and I worked for the 2000 Census. She had long fiery red hair that always looked like it was always flowing and out of control but I think it was very much in control, she wanted it to look like that. Interestingly shortly after she went to work for the Census 2000 she had to take a week or so off to go to Iran. She was a widow of an Iranian that was killed under strange circumstances, which I never could follow. She had to go to Iran for his funeral and to get his affairs in order. She was a woman, so inheriting her husband’s land, handed down, was out of the question, but it would be OK for their 3 year old son to inherit it. Which he has probably delt with it by now. I asked her, being a female, how did the Iranians treat her? She said like a queen. I asked did she have to wear a mask and she said she still had her head didn’t she? At the museum she got Bluto and I in free and she gave us a great tour of all the interesting historical stuff the museum had at that time. They were almost finished moving from their previous building. Back to Census 2000’s office: The red headed lady and another lady brought something like cookies or biscuits to work one day. One did, I do not remember which one. And the next day the other lady brought some even more divine finger food, only to be topped by the other one the next day. I think I and the other office people gained a few pounds during their Homemade Goodies war.

SOMETHING BIG?

We had lunch at the 3$ Café today. We were there just a few after 1pm, and we were 2 of the 5 customers there. I think there were more employees than customers. I know there was a 3$ Café on Windy Hill Road but maybe it just hasn’t caught on at Town Center yet, speaking of Town Center, there were not manly cars in the parking lot. As we were leaving the Café’ I noticed a deputy talking to a man with a suit on. A few more steps at the corner, just around the edge of the building were two more deputies, one male and one female. Both were leaning over to have sight of the other deputy talking to the man in a suit. I did not realize it at the moment but I hollered over to the male and female deputies saying, “Do you know Anthony Rollins?” Anthony is my cousin, a retired deputy. They looked shocked and gave me some kind of negative response that they did not know Anthony. I said,, “Anthony retired years ago from the Sheriff’s Department.” They just glared at me and we walked on and got into the car. From the car, pulling away, I saw several other deputies in a cluster, at the entrance of several parking rows away. Then I saw another female deputy, with her hand on another woman, lead her to the back of a sheriff car, put her in the back seat and slammed the door. I wonder what she was involved in? Then, as we drove on, around the side of the building there were 3 more sheriff cars, parked alongside the curb. Was SOMETHING BIG GOING ON?

Thomas Jefferson and Skeletons in the Closet

When the boys were young, we usually tried to douse them with a little education on our vacations. One year we went to Virginia. I remember the Natural Bridge that George Washington surveyed as a surveyor. And Charlottesville. Charlottesville was the home of Thomas Jefferson. The postcard is Monticello, Jefferson’s home, near Charlottesville. I always admired Thomas Jefferson. He was an inventor, amateur scientist, experimenter, and helped with the wording of the most powerful legal document we have, The United States Constitution.. Did you know he got The Library of Congress started by donating his own books? Another thing, up until he became president people bowed to Presidents and elected officials, but Jefferson replaced bowing to firm handshakes. I admire he and Benjamin Franklin for all the scientific stuff they did. However, it appears that the old slogan, “Do as I say, not as I do.” might apply to him: He owned slaves. I think it is a fact that one lady slave, Sally Hemings, was Jefferson’s mistress. She was also a travel companion for his oversea trips. She also gave birth to some of his kids. In Charlottesville we visited the University of Virginia campus. We did because Jefferson created it and designed the buildings. As usual, his craftsmanship was perfect. Between Charlottesville and Monticello is a Thomas Jefferson Museum. visited it. A lady docent, all prim and proper, asked us in a humble polite way could she help us. I asked her about Sally Hemings, Jefferson’s slave mistress. Her face seemed to harden, her smile frozen, as she something go effect, “We do not recognize Sally Hemings as Thomas Jefferson’s love, we recognized what she really was: ,”Just another slaver.”” And then it seemed that she glared at us, maybe not. Maybe I just felt she did. I do believe she was jealous of Sally Hemings. We left. I read someplace, probably in a UNCLE JOHN’S BATHROOM READER, in the past year of so that Thomas Jefferson’s two grown grandsons killed a lady slave because she broke a fine China dish. The two grandsons, of course, be descended from Thomas Jefferson. I think I read that the children that Thomas Jefferson sired from Sally Hemings were raised Sally Hemings, in other words they were slaves, like their mother, so they were also Thomas Jefferson’s descendants. If all that is true, about the slaves’ punishment by death, and descended from Thomas Jefferson, it is possible the two grandsons killed their own cousin killed their own cousin for breaking a China dish.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD#16's THE WRECK OF THE HESPERUS

Text by editor Harvey Kurtzman. Art by Wally Woood

Buck who?

There is a street in Marietta named Sweet Buckeye. There is also a street named Buckeye. Postal-wise, They are sometimes confused because the Sweet in Sweet Buckeye is sometimes omitted, but luckily Sweet Buckeye and Buckeye have completely different numbers. Like one of them might have numbers that start with 1000 and the other one's numbers start with 4000. Which brings up why was the word Sweet omitted from Sweet Buckeye? On Sweet Buckeye lived a high ranking military officer. Apparently, he did not accept the fact that the word "Sweet" as part of his address. The word "sweet" insinuates unmanlyness. What would people think ?

And Then It All Started

Dec 9, 1967, Making a break for it.

55 Happy Years

Today, we have been married 55 years. 55 years I think is longer than most people live. I love you Anna!

Nancy Petty and Hubby Winfield Scott Murray, back in the day

My g-g-grandfather Elijah Petty's daughter Nancy Petty (1841-1917) and her husband Winfield Scott Murray (abt 1820 - ?)

Everyone Needs a Friend...

Riches Leaving Thanksgiving and Beginning Christmas Holidays

The Annual Rich's Downtown Atlanta Christmas Tree Lightening on Thanksgiving Night has had some changes. It is no longer downtown, now it is at Lenox Square. It is no longer Rich's, now it is nowMacy's. It is no longer held on Thanksgiving Night, but is being held as I type, four days before Thanksgiving, on Sunday Night. It is just not natural anymore.

The Ghost of Waterman Street School

This past Wednesday, we delivered 3 boxes of canned food to a Can-a-thon at the Salvation Army, which on top of the hill, where Waterman Street School was. Each box of cans were very heavy. It took a strained effort to pick up one of the sacks and walk with it. We drove to Waterman Street. It is always a pleasure to see old things still there that were used in my youth. This time it were the stone wall by the sidewalk, and the cement steps, and hand railing leading up to giant brick school that is no longer there. We followed the arrows to the last driveway. A team of 3 women were waiting to help, give defections, or whatever. Th explained to us it might be awhile. A big 18 wheeler truck from a well known grocery store just pulled in loaded, and it had to be unloaded before they could get to us. They suggested they could take our boxed and carry them up the hill when the truck was emptied. Time is valuable, so we agreed. We gave them the boxed and we turned around. As we were turning around I noticed one of the ladies we talked to was carrying one of our boxes up the hill with ease, like it was empty “What th….?” I remember we were turning around about at the level of where one of the playgrounds used to be. The other playground was just a big ball field. This one had swings and slides. But not now.

Zoom Office Christmas Party

Have you ever heard of a Zoom Christmas Party? My son attended his office’s Zoom Christmas Party. Or, a Virtual Christmas Office Party. I think he said about 200 co=workers attended, virtual-wise. I think my son said they party invitees were of, of course, in front of their monitors, and the zoom party host team members were crawling all over New York City. And one musician, a guitar player. A lot of trivia was played and also a lot of team members all over NYC in playing a game of “guessing what that landmark is” He did not say what they did for refreshments. Maybe the company core was to furnish drinks and finger food. I wonder what they did in leu of grabbing a kiss under the Mistle Toe game?

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! DILBERT AND THE TRICKLE DOWN THEORY

Pssst! Besure and click on the picture to make it readable.

Ice Storm Frolics

Posted 4 years ago: Our current weather condition reminds me of the Ice Storm of March 1961. When the storm came it was during the night. In March 1961, we woke up to a frozen white Winter Wonder Land. I worked in Atlanta at the time and it was too dangerous to try to drive to work. So, I called in. So did all my friends that were not away at college. We went out to play on the frozen slippery terrain. Larry got a near worthless used car from his father's used car lot and we rode around and learned a lot about the physics of driving on slippery ice. We went to Town & Country Shopping Center, which was empty of customers' cars because of the weather and used the wide open spaced parking lot as a training ground. We would spin, get speed up and slam on the brakes en enjoy the slide. Later we tried climbing a steep hill and I forgot what happened but it put an end to our riding that car. The steep hill was leading off Powder Springs Street across from Garrison Road. We were just a block or two from the Marietta Country Club. We got the idea of going up to the golf course and sliding down the big hill there on the green. When we walked up to the Country Club we realized we were not the first ones to think of sliding down the hill on the golf course. Many kids were there sliding. They had serving trays they were using that they slipped in and got from the dining or kitchen area of the club. Other kids had flattened big cardboard boxed, and even one group of kids brought a car hood they rode on. I tried a serving tray, a cardboard flattened, but finally got the not so bright idea of riding down on a round red Coke sign, which the face of it was facing the ice. I started down the hill, picked up speed, and for some reason the Coke sign started to spin, or I should say the Coke sign and I started to spin faster and faster. The Coke sign became a runaway out of control Coke sign. I couldn't get off or guild it. At the bottom of the hill is normally a pretty little pond. That day it was partially frozen . I hit the pond, it may have skidded to put me more in the middle, then sunk. It was almost thigh deep in cold icy water. I walked out. The fun was over. I needed dry pants. My pants were sloshing and about to get stiff with ice. I was walking. I lived on Richard Street which was about 2 or miles away, one block from the 4-Lane, across the highway from the future White Water Amusement Park. Sometimes I can be resourceful when it comes to surviving. I sloshed and crinkled my way across town, about halfway home to Colonial Circle, where Mrs. Latimer lived. My friend Gene "Jenky" Latimer was killed in a drag race the previous May or early June. I knocked on Mrs. Latimer's door. She was happy to see an old friend of Jenky's. I told her my pants were wet, could I borrow a pair of Gene's pants. She gladly gave me a pair, which I went to the back and changed into. Then Mrs. Latimer baked us some banana-nut bread, which we had with hot apple cider. Still, each time I ride by Colonial Circle off Fairground Street, or eat banana bread I think of that day.

The Big Rock Sitting on Indian Lore

Petty Siblings Roy, Janie (my mother), and Osm poising by the Big Rock. The Big Rock was on their property in the Red Hills, near Cohutta, Georgia, they were in their teen years. The Big Rock covered an entrance to a cave. In the cave was Indian lore. When the highway department paved the Cleveland, Tennessee Highway they bought rocks from nearby farmers. They bought some from William Elijah Joseph Petty. The highway department workers had it blasted the rocks out thus sealing the entrance to the Indian Lore cave forever.

WELCOME TO DECEMBER!

Myrtle Irene "Granny" Foster Jones (1895-1991)

Myrtle Irene “Granny” Jones Foster (1895-1991). Granny is Anna’s grandmother, her mother’s mother. Granny was born and raised in the Milton- Alpharetta, Georgia, area. She had 6 siblings, 5 sisters and a brother. Irene married Paul Everette Foster. They had eight children, four died at birth. Paul was a Singer Sewing Machine Salesman. They moved to Marietta, Georgia. Paul died as a young man leaving Irene to care for their four children. They lived all around Marietta. On several streets I see the houses or lots they used to lived in. They jokingly said they moved often, when the rent was due. But I think they probably moved in town during school months and further out during growing season. Irene took over part of her late husband’s skills. She became a Singer Sewing Machine repair person. She also was Nannie and practical nurse. All her four children reached adulthood and did good with families of their own.