Andy & Nannie Pannell Morris

Andy and Nannie Pannell Morris. Nannie is sister to Mary Jane Pannell Prance. It looks like Andy lost a leg.

Postal

I just happen to remember, back in 1969 when I was with the Atlanta Post Office about a week I was transferred to the Parcel Post Annex. My immediate supervisor, Beckum, was a nervous little man who was always steadily working and very seldom spoke one to one with anybody and definitely never looked eye to eye with anyone. His immediate supervisor was Mr. Woodard who followed Beckum around shouting at him and chewing him out in front of everybody. Tech tch.

James M. Prance When Cotton was King

James M. Prance. This is my great-great grandfather-in-law, on the Square to sell his cotton, cir 1920.

Panic on Canton Road 44 Years Ago.

Today we found ourselves waiting outside of a shop on 3015 Canton Road. The sign on the door said the owner would be back in 20 minutes. It was more closer to double that. As we sat on the outside bench I thought about the time in 1979 this building was in the news, in a deadly kind of way. Then, in 1979, a dentist’s office was in this building. A deputy brought a prisoner to this dentist for some dental work. I forgot the details, after all, it has been 44 years ago. I remember the bottom line, the prisoner escaped. I don’t remember if anyone was killed or not. I was terrified when I heard it on the news. I was terrified because Anna was out that evening almost in the same neighborhood. She was at Noonday Church on Canton Road attending a childbirth class. She was pregnant with our youngest son Adam. Police, deputies, and state patrolmen was checking out everything that moved on Canton Road that night.. The following morning the escapee was caught hiding in either a shoe shop or KFC dumpster around back, and directly across the street from where he escaped. All’s well that ends well. (except for the prisoner).

Because it was There

and I had a camera in my hands.

Doggie Hoagie

I heard of a dog meat festival held annually in China. As a hard working nose to the grindstone researcher I went where no other investigated reporter dared to go: Wickipedia. This is what I found: "The Lychee and Dog Meat Festival, commonly referred to as Yulin Dog Meat Festival, is an annual celebration held in Yulin, Guangxi, China, during the summer solstice in which festival goers eat dog meat and lychees. The festival spans about ten days during which it is estimated that 10,000–15,000 dogs are consumed. The festival has been criticized by animal welfare supporters." I wonder if in Yulin, China, they have a restaurant similar restaurant to Col Pool's BBQ in north Georgia with a steep hill behind the building with doggie tombstones? Would the names on the marker have names such as Fido, Willow, Fifi, Snoopy? PS This BBQ joint has since been sold since this blog has been written.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! by Gary Trudeau

Sign of the Times

SIGN OF THE TIMES In the check-out line at Kroger’s this morning a mistake was made. I don’t know what the error was made. The lady whose groceries was being tallied apologized to the lady behind her, who said more or less, for her not to worry, she will pay the difference. I think probably the lady did not have enough money to cover the entire amount. The generous lady behind her, “No problem, I’ll pay the difference.” The first lay thanked her and thanked her. I got a better look at the person. She was old with plenty of unnatural bumps on her face and about two of her front teeth was missing. Financially she was having a hard time. After thanking and thanking suddenly she said, “Or did you do that just because you are in a hurry?” She realized the moment she said that she realized she was biting the hand that fed her. Then she changed the subject, sort of, she said she had to borrow some money to pay for the groceries and thought she had enough. Then she said, “I could just hug you, but that isn’t allowed anymore.” The generous lady laughed and said, “Please don’t”

Ed & Jack Hunter, c1918

Brothers Ed and Jack Hunter. Ed (my father) and Jack are two of nine children of Frank Paris and Minnie Tyson Hunter. Here they are probably free-ranging kids style in the Butler Town area of Marietta. In years to come Jack would be survival of Pearl Harbor and also from a PT boat saved Eddie Rickenbacker's life in the Pacific. Ed, as far as I know, is the only person that served as Chief of Police of the Marietta Police and after that the Cobb County Police.

The Invisible Man Goes to Krogers

The other day Krogers’ Pharmacy automatic calling service called and said my prescription was ready for pickup. This morning was the first day we were shopping at Krogers since the call. I dropped by the pharmacy to pick up the medicine. I stood at the window and they recognized me and the doctor told her assistant something and she looked through a bunch of prescriptions and brought me an envelope. She said, “Here’s your eyedrops Mr. Harper.” I said, “Hunter!” She laughed and said something, “Sure Mr. Harper!” I signed for the eye drops and paid with my credit card and mumbled something like I haven’t been to my eye doctor in over a year, how come did send me eyedrops? She said something like, “Check with him Mr. Harper.” I said, "Hunter!" She laughed again. Walking away I looked at the eyedrop bottle. It was made out to someone named Hunter Harper. I went back and told them this was for someone with the last name Harper. His first name is Hunter, the same as my last name. The druggist said it was her fault. She recognized me having the name Hunter, so she got me and Hunter Harper’s names confused. She credited my credit card. She went on to say each time her helper said ‘Mr. Haper’ and I corrected her by saying ‘Hunter’ they thought it was just my way of saying call me by my first name. I said, “I never met Hunter Harper, but I bet he is good looking!” Not missing a beat the druggist replied, “Very!” I asked why did their automatic calling service call and said I had a prescription to pick up. They looked around and couldn’t find anything, so had no idea.

James Marion and Mary Jane Pannel Prance

1925 - James Marion Prance (1857-1935) and Mary Jane Pannel Prance (1853-1927) eating watermelon out by the well | The Prance Farm - Canton Rd., Noonday Creek District, Cobb County

Larry & Joe

Larry Bradford and Joe L Jenkins Sr, April 2015, at Mayes Ward Funeral Home, during visitation of Anna's mother Marie. Larry and Joe know each other from childhood living in the same neighborhood. I have known Larry since we the 9th grade and for the next three years it was one anarchist-style- Marx Brothers-laugh, one after another for the rest of high school. Although I and Joe did not formerly introduced ourselves to each other until just a few years ago we had the same friends in the same small town of Marietta. It is strange, we just didn't. I suppose we went through our years zigging and zagging avoiding each other and not realizing it. We met at the dog park after our hair turned gray.

Talented

We are in the Town Center area fairly often. Often enough to look forward seeing a certain entertainer on the street almost on every trip. The guy spins a sign that says something like “PUPPIES FOF SALE!” He can spin his sign, throw it up and catch it in unique ways; sometimes dances with it, and other attention getters. Today he was gracefully dancing around handling that “PUPPIES FOR SALE” sign like it was a sword. His fancy moves would impress The Three Musketeers.

The ice Storm of Ice Storms

Another ice/snow memory that bubbles to the surface of my brain from time to time that I would prefer it didn't, is one time when I was a timekeeper/Date Collection clerk at the Atlanta Postal Office in the Federal Annex on Spring and Forsyth Streets, right next door to old Rich's. A big snow storm came in essentially paralyzing Atlanta. But the mail must get through. The time keepers had to be there to see that those that came in get paid. I put a blanket in the car in case I got stuck or something and dodged stranded cars all the way to Atlanta. My reporting time was midnight. Then, it took about 10 clerks per shift to run the time timekeepers office, but more in the daytime, so there were 35 timekeeper positions. We were time timekeepers for about 5000 postal employees. When I reported to work there was only one guy , his name is Salmen, was there on the evening tour, doing the work of 10 men. I jumped in and started helping. I was the only one that showed up for my shift. Salmen stayed and helped me. We worked all night long hard, without breaks, lunch, or anything. The morning shift only one person could make it in. So, Salmen and I stayed and helped him. No other clerks showed up for two days. Three of us worked doing our jobs at a high paced level for over two days without sleep or breaks, so that people would be paid right. Did anybody get any kind of recognition or monetarily awards for our dedication? Of course they did. REM, the Department Head of Finance got public recognition from the District Manager and also because of people under him saved the day he got a quality step increase, which would be a bonus when his retirement was figured. Not bad, for a person, who said he couldn't get out of his driveway to come to work. By the way, almost 20 years later when I was a window clerk in Marietta a lady I was waiting on proudly told me her father was retired from the Postal Service. When she told me her dad was REM I told her what I thought of us doing all the hard work and he got the monetarily award for our work. She looked stunned and probably avoid coming to my window on her next visits.

Isaac & Adeline St. John Wright

Anna's great great grandparents on her father's mother's side. Adeline was the daughter of James St. John (1756-1850) and Elizabeth Boomer (1757- 1850s). Isaac was the son of Isaac S. Wright and Charity Catherine Fox. Adaline and Isaac were married 19 Apr 1855, West Virginia. But I think at the time it was Virginia. West Virginia did not form itself until 1861. They has 12 children, 5 daughters and 7 sons. Isaac served in the Confederate Army. They are buried in Enon Cemetery, just north of Woodstock, Georgia.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD 18's ALICE IN WONDERLAND

Script by editor Harvey Kurtzman; Art by Jack Davis; click on page you are reading to enlarge it so it will or won't make more sense.

Here Lies Baby Fox

I have mentioned several times that there is a baby fox and a baby deer in our neighborhood. I was not worried about the deer, deer have a good reputation. When you think of a young deer you think of Bambi, cute and lovable. But foxes have had bad press. They have a reputation of being sly, and well, carnivorous. Meat eaters without mercy. The baby fox in our neighbor hood was afraid of its own shadow. It think he probably got departed from his mother at a young age. He walked around our neighborhood in the wide open, not sure what step to take next and always looking around. Our neighbors across the street has a little concrete cylinder shape bridge at the front of their driveway. I saw the baby fox several times go into the long dark round hole under the driveway. I think it felt safe there. Apparently the neighbor saw it go into the hole too, it was long until slats of wood were nailed into the ground blocking his passage underneath. Another neighbor yesterday or the day before saw the baby fox lying on the side of the road dead. He made a cross for the scared-no-more animal.

LET'S LISTEN

We are reading the book by Celeste Headlee LETS TALK. Ms Headlee is an announcer on NPR. I have heard her do the news, interviews and reviews. LETS TALK is saying everybody need to improve their talking ability for everybody’s sake. Not only do you say things that your listener can comprehend, the listener must also learn to his or her part of the equation, and that is to listen. She said billions of dollars are lost annually because of a lack of communications. She gives several examples of two way conversations of her own that could have went better. She refers to a lot of statistics. One statistic said if you are average about 50% of your Facebook friend are not friends at all. Another fact that the mere presence of a cell-phone is change the conversation. Before the cell phone was present it was a lively conversation and then when a cell-phone became present the conversation died. I think before Celeste Headlee wrote LETS TALK she was on the air near here at a NPR radio station in Atlanta. She used to bring her two dogs to Sweat Mountain Dog Park. I had the pleasure of TALKING to her once (my claim to fame).

HAPPY SAINT PATRICK'S DAY!

Adeline Bagley, Roswell Mill Worker

Adeline Bagley is one of Anna’s relatives that I have mentioned before. She is a quirk in the cruelty of war . She was one of the Roswell Mill Workers Women. When Sherman and his soldiers invaded this area they came upon the Roswell Mill who was manufacturing items for the Confederate Army. Sherman had them arrested for treason and sent to be mill workers in Chicago. At the time of her arrest and sent north she was married to Pvt J Buice. They had children. When Adeline returned J. Buice had married again and had children by his new wife. Sad story.

New Invention for the House?

By experience I realized when you buy something for the house we live in, it is best to deal with an old timer. We went to Home Depot today and a bright young girl asked to help us and first we asked about a certain type of light bulb which she was very helpful. She knew her light bulbs. Then we asked her where the carport light fixtures were. She looked at us like she didn't comprehend. "You know, the glass thing that hold your light flush to the carport ceiling." Blank look. I bet she was thinking to herself, "What the hell is a carport?" She told us she would find someone who knows his stuff and she left. We were waiting, and down the aisle we saw a middle age with an orange apron on headed directly towards us, like he had a mission. He probably did have a mission to help us but he was intercepted by a woman who asked him a question. He got bogged down helping her. We looked again and saw two old timers with orange aprons standing talking. We went up to one old fart and he knew exactly what a carport was and also a carport light fixture. And he helped us with a couple others items also.

Cursing Lady Preacher

I posted this Facebook several years ago. Yesterday on my space here I told about a female minister that told the children of her congregation she was giving up cursing. I suggested to the person that told me about it that maybe she was joking. The person instantly wrote back saying she wasn’t joking. She has a reputation of living a wild life in her youth and still lets the curse words fly. Their church has a low sermon attendance. Anything over 50 is good. Maybe beyond good. I am always intrigued by any woman who flings around curse words around people they don’t know very well. Maybe intrigued is the wrong word. Maybe “interesting” is a better word. But, me, not a church-goer, would go out of way, to hear a woman preacher that laces curse words in her sermon. Maybe to build their attendance she should put on their message board something like, “Come inside and hear a woman preacher preach the gospel; translated into cussing”. I bet there would be standing room only.

Profitable to sit next to Jimmy Pat

Another interesting thing about Doctor Scott’s lecture on recording interviews. He told an interview might take up a lot of space like the interviewee using “you know” a lots. So, one should tastefully remove some useless words that doesn’t change the interview. Here is the bombshell: He said, “Jimmy Presley was a big help editing. Yes, THE Jimmy Presley.” I counted about 15 people there. I think most were not natives of Marietta, I heard about 4 or 5 take deep breaths when the words “Jimmy Presley” were spoken. And with double deeper breaths and maybe even a cough or two when the doctor said, “The Jimmy Presley”. I had the urge to say, “You mean the late Jimmy Pat Presley? The one who was sent to military school in Barnesville and with burning mattresses burned the dorm down?” “You mean the late Jimmy Pat Presley who was caught by my uncle crawling in their front yard with a knife to stab their dog?” “You mean, The late Jimmy Pat Presley, who when called to the office on the PA system in school he had to unload his pockets of stuff he shoplifted at Dupre’s that moning?” I could go on and on and on.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD Comicbook #2, IMPORTANT MESSAGE

Artist John Severin

On this Sunday remember, with your clocks and othertime pieces: SPRING FORWARD ONE HOUR!

Some Day

Ridley Cemetery, Crandall, Ga

The story of me finding the Ridley family cemetery has a life of its own, so to speak. One morning I drove to Murray County, Georgia, with the purpose of finding the Ridley Cemetery. I had no idea where to find it. I thought it might be in the Crandall Community, since that is where the Pettys and Ridley lived. I drove up Hwy 225. When in Murray County, I stopped at a little local hamburger lunch place to eat lunch. There was no dining room inside. There was a window to order and get your food. I got something and was back in my car eating when I noticed a Georgia D.O.T. truck parked near with a man inside it, also eating. I thought he might give me an idea where the cemetery was. I walked up to his window and pardoned myself for interrupting his lunch and told him I was looking for the Ridley Family Cemetery, did he have any idea…. He looked at me started with a hunk of food pushing a cheek outward. Was he choking? After he chewed and swallow he said, “You want believe this but look what my finger is on.” He held up a topical map and his finger was on “Ridley Cemetery” This, I believe was a divinely inspired lead. It was, as I guessed, in the Crandall Community on Jim Petty Road. Jim Petty is my great uncle. I went by his directions and saw the cemetery on the side of the road on the other side of a guard rail, which was the beginning of a little bridge over a little creek, just like the map said. I parked on the side of the road and went into the little cemetery. There I saw the graves of my distant cousins, uncles, and ancestors. I took notes and taking pictures. My peripheral vison caught some kind of movement. I looked up and creeping towards was an elderly man with a shotgun aimed at me. He said, “Can I help you?” “My grandmother told me about this cemetery and I wanted to see it. “Whose your grandmother?” “Frances Viola Ridley Petty.” “You Ola’s boy?” “No, she is my grandmother, I’m her daughter’s son.” Most importantly (to me) he lowered his shotgun. “How is Viola?” “she died about ten years ago.” “Sorry to hear that” He told me to come back anytime. “Anytime” was about 15 to 20 years later. This time I wanted to show my sons the Ridley Cemetery. While we were looking at the old markers several young people, in their early 20s, were hanging out in front of the house where the old man lived. They got on dirt bike, 4 or 5 of them, and rode near us at the cemetery, and jumping the ditch on the road, u-turning and coming back near us again, each time getting closer and closer. I felt uncomfortable. Afterall, we were the trespassers. We left.

Who Is The Preacher

My sister-in-law Thelma sent me this picture. It is me and her son-in-law Rex. Rex is a preacher in Lawrenceville. She asks the question, "Who is the preacher?" I have been known to preach a good spicy sermon on chicken-fat.com now and then. Take your pick.

Wheeling and Dealing Jake

Yesterday we had a late lunch, around 3 pm, at a bar and grill. I noticed all the customers at that time were elderly. I doubt if any customer there was under 70. I noticed this before. I also noticed it is not as crowded and loud. Late lunches at a bar and grill are nice. Next to our booth was six elderly women. They talked about many local subjects, one was the historical house at the corner of Bells Ferry Road and Barrett Parkway. The house is officially a house of history. It housed a general during the Civil War. There is a company who wans to buy it and tear it down and replace it with a car wash. They disapproved. So do I. I would have told them I agree, then they would think I was eavesdropping. They also wondered who owned that house. One of the ladies said something like “Mr. Medford, but he died years ago. I wanted to jump in and said, “Jake Medford, he is a distant cousin of mine, on the Tyson Huey side.” But I didn’t. I also wanted to say when my daddy was chief of police, the Klan burned a cross in his yard. But I kept my mouth shut. I remember not too long beforee Jake died he said he would sell his back yard for not less than a million dollars. The next step after you leave his yard is the Town Center Shopping area. I thought about us teenagers at the time said in Jake Medford’s store he had very strict age requirements for selling beer¨ You had to be big enough to slide your money across the counter.”

Mrs J. N. Petty

Not to continue beating a dead horse but here is Mrs. J. N. Petty again but this time whoever wrote on this picture made it much more personal, as far as her name goes. Here her name is Mrs. John N. Petty, look, see for yourself. I found this picture funny because of the expression on Mrs. Petty's face and the young man standing beside her. By body language and facial expressions I think just before this picture was taken Mrs. J.N. gave Jim (the young man) a painful ear pinch for misbehaving. By the way, Ethel Petty in this picture is the second Petty I know of named Ethel. The first I knew about was is my mother. I wonder if my mother was named after this Ethel? She was her great aunt, but I suspect they were unaware of each other's existence. Not that it matters in the grand course of things but Ethel shares a cemetery plot with her mother Mrs. J. N. Petty. If these mother and daughter ghosts ever have a mother-daughter heated argument Ethel Petty could do a slam-dunk on the argument by saying, "At least I have my name on my tombstone!" Then lie there with a smirk on her embalmed face for eternity.

What's In It For Me?

Here is one of many things I didn't know.: Ancient Rome's calendar was a countdown calendar. Like March the 31st would be the first day and March the 1st would be the last day. This knowledge is not nearly as important as how to utilize it. Marietta High School's Motto was (might still be): "KNOWLEDGE IS POWER". What kind of power can I get with this knowledge?

Was on Jeopardy (a few years ago)

on JEOPARDY the giant Hangar at NAS Lakehurst, New Jersey, was part of the answer/question. Alex said the size of the hangar is as big as three football fields. I did not know that. I used to see it every day when I was stationed at the base. Our helicopter headquarters was there. If the biggest hangar is Hangar #1 the hangar we were at was Hangar #3, if I remember correctly. Hangar #3 was a big hangar also. Not as big as Hangar #1 but still big. The huge sliding doors stayed opened most the time in daylight hours. It is (or was then) facing a massive flat area. A lot of helicopters were coming and going. The massive flat area was at least two miles in distance to the other side, maybe more. And after that there is a long runway for large military airplanes. By the time the wind traveled over all that flat area it would build a force. The hangar is facing west. There seemed to be always a strong massive wind coming from the west. The back of the hangar are two regular size doors. I remember for fun sometimes in the small door way, leaving the hangar I could jump just a little in the air and a shot of wind funneled into a giant room would shoot me a foot or two out the back door. I felt like a pea shooting out of a pea shooter. I felt magic!

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD Comic's #17, Julius Ceaser

Story by Harvey Kurtzman; art y Wallace Wood. Click each page to enlarge so you can read it better.

Navy Times, In the Beginning

A Report on entering the Navy. During the Cuba Missile Crisis I joined the Naval Reserve. My two year active duty was from July 10, 1963 to July 9, 1965. Most of my two years were spent at NAS, Lakehurst, New Jersey, Helicopter Utility Four (HU-4),, but how I ended up there is a long amusing story. OK, you talked me into it When I first went on active duty I went to the Navy Yard, Transients, Charleston, South Carolina, to wait on my orders. There were several hundred other transients also waiting on their orders. They assigned each of us a unique number. Every morning it was our responsibility By a certain time to stand on a square on a little square that had our special number. They looked us over every morning and assigned work details for the day. It must have been how a slave market was. Over the next ten or twelve days I was assigned cleaning up The base EM Club, Chief's Club, Marines, Club, Officers' Club, paint the deck of Franklin D. Roosevelt's small cabin cruiser, and cleanup the theater. When cleaning up the theater I impressed my supervisor enough for him to put in a standing chit to report to the theater every day. I doubt if my work impressed him but I think it was my willing to talk about movies, which I knew a good deal about back then. That was one of the easiest jobs I had in the Navy. I did not have to on my square with my number ever again. A new transient friend and I drifted in before 10am, cleaned the theater and empty the "shit cans" (as the Wave typist in the office called them), and as soon as we finished our work we could watch a movie in the theater, just us two, our boss, and sometimes the wave. Our barracks overlooked the Cooper River, with a huge bridge, great view. I only left the base one time during my stay as a transient. Outside the front gate the steer that led up to the gate was well lit with neon signs advertising bars and other Navy attractions. I only remember one bar. I was attracted to it because it had the biggest crowd inside. "It must be something!" I told my friend. We went in and saw that all the attention was centered on a female bartender. I saw what all the excitement was about: After you order your drink she asked do you want it "stirred"? If you say yes, she charges a higher fee. The "stirred" drink was stirred by her finger that just poked the bartender in her private parts. The sailors have been at sea for months. I'm too cheap, we left. Back on the base a base bus service carried sailors back to their barracks. I remember one passenger and the bus driver got intp a heated argument and the shot tempered bus driver ordered the short tempered passenger off the bus. He refused. It turned out that the passenger was an officer. I never saw a raging man change his tone so quickly and then shut up. After about 30 days as a transiet I got my orders. I reported to a window like I was told to and a yeoman gave told me I was to report at the ship the USS JK TAUISSIG in Lakehurst, New Jersey. He gave me my orders, airplane ticket to Philadelphia and a bus ticket from a bus station in Philadelphia to the Naval base at Lakehust, New Jersey. The yeoman told me I was on my own to get from the airport to the bus station. That's nice, I had less than $15 at the moment. As it turned out, after the limozine ride I had less than $2 and was about to enter a new world, broke. On a late Friday night I arrived at the gate of NAS Lakehurst, New Jersey. Behind the gate was a building that was the office of the duty officer of the day. I would soon learn the building also was the security building and barracks for the security personnel. The bus pulled off with me and my duffel bag standing out front of the Duty Office/Security Building, walked into a room with a counter. Behind it sitting behind at were a duty chief and duty officer. I'm sure the duty driver was there too, I just don't remember him. The chief stood up and asked could he help me. I gave him my orders. He looked at the orders, his eyes widened and he read them again. He walked over to the duty officer, leaned over and showed him my orders and thumped a certain line and chuckled. The duty officer looked at the line that pointed out and let out a chuckle and shook his head. They both walked over the counter opposite me. I don't remember which one said what, but here is the essence of what they said: You are assigned to the USS J.K. TAUSSIG? A ship? We are on dry land 20 miles from the Atlantic Ocean. We don't have ships, we have helicopters! By the way, NAS LAKEHURST is where German's HINDENBURG exploded in 1939. They called the main barracks and told them to keep me until they could get these orders straighten out, which the earliest will be Monday. The duty driver carried me to the main barracks and a MA let me in the dark to an empty bunk. I undressed in the dark, crawled in bed (bunk) and went to sleep. HOWEVER! In the middle I woke up having a realistic dream. I dreamed I was still in the Charleston Navy Yard and we were being bombed by the Russians! I was semi awake. The only thing I could see was a red exit sigh, which I ran to the door under the sign and out it. I found myself in a hallway (passage way (Navy talk)) in my underwear (skivvies). Another door opened and two men in civilian clothes walked in, talking. I ran up to them and warned them the Russians are bombing us. They were amused but caught on quickly I was having a bad dream. They spent a while calming me down and convincing me I was having a bad dream. If found out I was having distorted bad dreams and going wild I could have got out of the Navy on a medical, I think. I went back to my bunk, which was not easy to find in the dark in a strange room. But somehow, I did. That morning at breakfast I saw the two men I tried to save sitting a few tables away, watching me. We became fiends, even though we were in different units and one time I even rode to North Carolina with them. I reported to the Personnel office and the could not instantly find why the orders to the J.K. TAUSSIG and how to correct. It might take weeks to fix it. They assigned me to be the janitor of the Duty Office/Security building and I moved into their barracks. I made my own hours. Either the day before or after Labor Day Weekend I got orders to report to Helicopter Utility Squadron Four (HU-4), which was at NAS Lakehurst.

Jewell of a Postal Supervisor

GOING POSTAL. In reviewing my old posts on my blog, Chicken-fat.com I came across the below, which I wrote in 2009. I immediately thought maybe I could recycle it and get some more mileage out of it. When I started to work for the Atlanta Post Office in 1968 I worked through the night at the Parcel Post Annex off of Chattahoochee Blvd. We had two supervisors. One of the supervisors’ last name was Rice and the other one was Beckum…. Or it may have been Beckom – who cares? Rice was about ready to retire. He was short and had his gray hair cut in a flat top. Later I found out he had a drinking problem. One morning about 4:30 or 5:00 he called all us to gather around him, which we did. He was sitting on a little stool. He told us he just received a call from the Main Post office that the head of operations was coming to pay us a “surprise” visit. He used his fingers to use to quote the “surprise”. As he talked he took off one of his shoes and then his sock for that shoe and began rubbing his fingers between his toes. He explained they were on their way now and they wanted to catch us being lax so they could go ahead a get rid of him. He said that he thought they wanted to catch him in one of the back rooms asleep and the people under him just goofing off. He put his shoe and sock back on and took his other shoe and sock off and continued his talk and rubbing his other toes. He said, lets show them that we are hard workers… I forgot what he said but it was pep talk to get us energized. He said life is short and we had to seize the moment. It was about a 15 minute drive from the Main Post Office to the Parcel Post Annex where we were at. The operation manager and his entourage walked in. Rice walked up to the operations manager and shook his hand and told him that his visit was a pleasant surprise. Then he shook the hands of the other men who came along. Each time Rice shook a hand you could hear someone make a stuffed chuckle or a muffled giggle grunt. Then I knew Mr. Rice was a jewel of a boss.

OLD SOUTH BBQ HAD BLACK-EYED PEAS ON NEW YEARS DAY 1968

On the local TV news this evening they had an article about Wendy Hill Road going through Smyrna and how the road is being redone. Now, it looks like a driver’s nightmare. When everything is re-done it looks like some of the Windy Hill stretch will be underground. It looks like a big undertaking. I perked up when part of their story included OLD SOUTH BBQ, which is on Windy Hill, just a block from South Cobb Drive. They interview the owner. We have known her since the late 1960s. We visited them on News Year Day. On NEW YEARS DAY we called around to various restaurants asking for Black-eyed peas. Old South did. We have been back many times since then. Watch the smiling owner grow into adulthood and just a joy to watch and never seemed to let the pressure bother her. One thing I was impressed from the first day was the band of adolescents coming in from the neighborhood , after playing football in the yard or cowboys and Indians and helping themselves to the soft drink dispenser. Then, running back out with their drinks. Another thing impressive was I think just about every time we have eaten and we have rode by there was a public service vehicle such as an ambulance or a police car; not on business but for fellowship. We hope they get to stay there.

Sarah Moody

This is a blog post that I posted in 2006. Because last Saturday we were at Conn's Creek Baptist Church Cemetery, in Ball Ground, Ga., Sarah Moody's old stomping grounds, pull it up out of the archives, just for breath of fresh air. And to spruce up the editing of it: This tin-type is my great-great grandmother Sarah C. Moody Tyson (1815-1895). She was born in South Carolina and died in Cherokee County, Georgia. She was the second of ten children of Allen Nancy Murphy Moody. I think she spent her formative years in Ball Ground, Cherokee County, Ga. She married Robert Cabel Tyson (1821-1864) on September 3, 1843, and they had eight children. She looks like she may have been Indian. Ball Ground was named Ball Ground because it was where the Indians met to played ball. Now it is a place to go unique restaurants and go antiquing.

WELCOME TO MARCH!

James Polk England & Family

This is the James A. Polk England and Louise Akins Family. James is the son of Daniel England and Harriet Hunter, he is grandson to our ancestor John Hunter of Union County. Polk was born in Union County , Georgia, and died in 1916 in Oklahoma. They had 8 children and 6 were twins. Their children: Clarissa (1895-1897), Daniel Wofford (1896-1971), Maude (1898- ? ), Claude (twin of Maude) (1898- abt 1987), Jewell (1900 - 1971). Gene (twin of Jewell) (1900-1958), Rought (1905- ? ), and Roy (twin of Rought) (1905- ? ). The picture was probably taken about 1906-07. Clarissa died before the other 7 were born.