The Invisible Man Being Invisible in the Dairy Department

 

At Krogers I  went to the dairy department.  Strangely, I was the only one there.  I was looking at the orange juice  area when a young man entered the area.  He too, was looking at the different selections of orange juice.

Or was he?

He was a young man, probably in his late teens or early 20s.

On second look I saw he was not looking at the different selections of juices but he was making faces at his reflection on the glass doors.  He showed himself his kind face.  He showed himself his wise and witty face. 

Then his sideview.

I don’t think he realized I was staring at him.  I left unnoticed, I think.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

 

Haunted

 

This house is on East Dixie Avenue in Marietta. It now looks completely differently than when I took this picture. It has had a facelift, so to speak.

Back in 1937 my parents, when they first married, spent the night here. It was a boarding house then. My mother believed saw a ghost looking down at her during the night. The next morning she found out the man she described to the landlady looked like the landlady's late husband.

Also, for posterity, in the 1950s, when brothers Jack and Billy Joe Royal were teenagers, their family lived in this house for a short time before they moved to Smynra. They said they did not see any ghosts

Scary Stuff

 Another True Halloween Story.

About 37 years ago there was an old abandoned house standing where the Post Office on Sandy Plains Road is now. Next door is a church cemetery.

A local civic organization had a Halloween Haunted House in the old house when Rocky was about 3 or 4 years old. Rocky begged to go. I took him.

It was a typical haunted house with strobe lights, chain saws, severed heads, and other horrid delights.

It was more than Rocky expected. He screamed and screamed hid his eyes from some of the action.

The next day he did not even want to ride in the car by the old house.

I tried to convince him it was all a show, make-believe . I decided to drive down the dirt bumpy driveway to the house and show him it was all empty - just a harmless old house.

He begged for us not to go. Regardless of his protests we went anyway. I had a point to prove.

When we got close to the porch we saw a several plastic mannequin legs upside down sticking out of a garbage can.

Which of course, caused more screaming.

Boo! for Real!

 

In the late 1970s I took this picture looking in a window of a crypt at Oakland Cemetery in At;amta.. Visually, I saw no what-izzit or even Casper. But, the developed film pointed out this. Boo!

Headless Horseman, Claim to Fame

 

This was originally on my blog chicken-fat.com in 2020. Here way go again:

Of course The LEGAND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW is the tale of school master Ichabod Crane fighting with the Headless Horseman, in and about the church’s graveyard., written by Washington Irving (1783-1859), the same who gave us RIP VAN WRINKLE.

My claim to fame:

Doing family research one never knows what one will come across to do with one’s family.

My ancestor Joseph Bookout (1701 – 1806) (I know, it say he lived 105 years) was born in Holland and died in Randolph County, North Carolina. He arrived in America with two brothers. What ever became of James is unknown. But his brother John went to up state New York.

Thus, we have this:

"The Legend Of Sleepy Hollow" (the Headless Horseman) started in the cemetary at the Dutch Reform Church, Tarrytown, New York (near the Hudson River.

John BOOKHOUT or his son was serving on the Board of Elders when the legend was born. Later Washington Irvin made the legend into a published story

LTJG Chet Whitehurst

 

The man sitting behind the desk was our division officer. He enlisted in the Navy as an enlisted man and because of his intelligence he got into a special program which made him an officer. At the time this picture was taken he had been in the Navy about 20 years. At the time he was probably doodling penises. True, he drew a lot of circumcised penises. It was penises just on a page, his penises fitted in a joke cartoon of some kind. The one that stands out in my memory was a very sexy woman with nothing on but an apron pouring water with one of those water buckets with a snout with holes in the end and she was watering a row of penises sticking up in a garden. He was not gay, he had a household full of children – Three, maybe more.

He was fascinated with our single life and went out with us a few times to beach bars to pick up girls. We gave ourselves unique positions, we, the enlisted, were suave Naval officers, and our division Officer was an enlisted swabbie. He even addressed us as “Sir” during our trolling.

In the office, whenever the CO dropped in for a chat with him as he entered he tossed his golden braided hat onto the hat rack and say “As you were” as we snapped to attention. He and our division officer would go back to the real officer’s office and talk. He would get behind the desk and the CO world sit down in a chair facing him. Then, my coworker Don and I would stand near the door and make faces behind the CO’s back that our division officer could see but not the CO – he our man had to keep a straight face. A few times, Don, a little bit more daring than me, would put the CO’s hat and make faces.

As soon as the CO retrieved his hat and left we all cracked up laughing.

Within a couple years after Don and I left the Navy our division officer resigned too. We made civilian life look like too much fun to him. He and his family moved to Tampa and he could not find a job. So, he, leaving his family back in Florida, until he called for them, came to Marietta and moved in with us and looked for a job.

One night he and I went out drinking. We popped in and out several popular bars. I remember on West Peachtree Street in Atlanta suddenly he had to use the bathroom, take a dump. I sped towards a service station blocks ahead and got behind a line of slow moving cars, only about two blocks from the lights of the Gulf or Shell service station. He said he couldn’t hold it that long. So, he got out and ran to the service station. I thought to myself when he first took over our office as a division officer he was sort of strict and impersonal, never would I think our relationship would come to this, me watching him run down West Peachtree, having to shit.

He felt guilty staying in our guest bedroom and moved to a boarding house in Buckhead, which is part of Atlanta. There he told us that one night, when he was trying to go to sleep his roommate reluctantly told him about raping a young lady recently, and it was not the first one. Chet was unsure what to do with that information and before he had a chance to do anything the roommate moved out.

He had no luck finding a job, but looking for a job inspired him to create a local (Metro Atlanta) magazine that carried only want ads for jobs. He sent for his family and I think he got rich.

Chet and his family bought a nice house in the Decatur area, a drive-in theater was near his house. He and his wife had us over for dinner one time.

I have not seen his magazine on the magazine rack in a couple of years so I don’t know what he is doing now. I have a pretty good idea,

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD Comics VAMPIRES!

Tis the Season.  Story by MAD Editor Harvey Kurtzman, art by Wally Wood

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BRAD MARTIN!

 

NAS LAKEHURST, NJ

 The big hangar on the left is where the Hindenburg Disaster happened in May 1937 - somehow the two are related, I don't know if the hangar was built on the same spot as the German airship exploded or it was supposed to be housed there. This picture was taken in 1964. A little office space in the building is where I first developed black and white pictures. The black end hangar was where our office was and the home of helicopter squadron, HU-4, that I belonged to.

Kuykendall & Tysons Blend

 

This is James Ephrah Kuykendall (1848 - 1915) and his wife Eliza Frances "Fannie" Tyson (1844-1927) James is the son of John Kuykendall (1817-1890) and Matha "Mattie" Tate (b abt 1820).

James and Fannie are Anna's great great grand parents. Fannie is the daughter of Robert Cabel Tyson (1821-1864) and Sarah Moody (1815-1896), my great great grandparents. Small world!

The two young adults are Avis and Arch Kuykendall, their children

Courting in Marietta

 

c1936/7. Courting. I think the tall chimney used to be in south Marietta, in "Butler Town" but not sure.

Left to right: Janie Petty (soon to be Janie Hunter), Ed Hunter (behind Janie), Unknown, Opal Petty, Unknown, and Lois Moon (Lois will marry Robert Toy Moon in 1938)

Me

 

Me, behind American Legion, beer in hand.

Reusing Pictures or getting more milage

 My mama told me not to be wasteful, reuse things: Recycling my pictures: St. Johns River, birds on a rail, in Jacksonville, Florida.

SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD Magazine's #26. THE TODAY SHOW back then

 THE TODAY SHOW has been around since I was in high school.  I remember J. Fred Muggs well.  Story by editor  Harvey Kurtzman, art by Atlanta's own, Jack Davis.

Paul Krassner and THE REALIST

 Paul Krassner (1932-2019) R.I.P. I cannot say enough about how bold he was for our freedoms. He was the editor and publisher of THE REALIST Magazine, which tested our freedom of press and speech in every issue. In his editorial ramblings he managed to mentioned he was a child prodigy that played a violin solo Carnegie Hall at a young age, about 5 or 6 I think. His profound wit was up there with Harvey Kurtzman, Will Elder, and Lenny Bruce.

Book Report: FRONTLINE COMBAT Comics in Kendal

 

Book (comicbook) Report FRONTLINE COMBAT.  Before MAD Comicbook/Magazine existed at EC Comics existed they had a big selection of Horror and Science-Fi Comics.  Then writer/artist/editor Harvey Kurtzman came along.  He is credited for writing and editing most of EC’s two new War comics FRONTLINE COMBAT and TWO-FISTED TALES.

Harvey Kurtzman has been dead over a quarter century.   Now, I suppose “the best of” FRONTLINE COMBAT is in digital Kendal form.  FRONTLINE COMBAT Kendall covers all kinds of war,  WWI aerial dogfights, pirates, Civil War, Indians, Roman times, modern airplane fights, and on and on.  The details were well researched.  Kurtzman had an assistant who did the research.  He even went down in a submarine.  Kurtzman also verified Sherman’s quote, “War is Hell.”  The American soldier did not always win, and some were natural bullies.  I counted stories, one Forward, and one Introduction.    One included comic was a special on the Air Force, which was all good,  like a show off of what we have.

The artists in this Kendal is George Evans,  Alex Tooth, Harvey Kurtzman, Jack Davis, Wally Wood, John Severin*, and Jack Kubrt.  It is interesting that John Severin and Will Elder worked on most of their stories as a team, but not one Elder and Severin was included.

 

This was before MAD was created, these war comics took a lot of research and then Kurtzman created MAD and he is more remembered for MAD than he is of the War comics.

 

 

Terracotta Guard and Me

 

Have your heard the Joel Chandler Harris’s story about Uncle Remus ‘s story about Ber’ Rabbit and “The Tar Baby”? Well, I had a very similar experience when a the High Museum when I asked a Chinese Terracotta Guard a question.

Covered Bridge in Cobb County Destroyed in the 1960s

 Marie's Postcard Collection. Speaking of shopping centers and other things in Cobb County that was here then but not now, here is Sope's Creek Covered Bridge. It was near to a paper mill on the creek that General Sherman arrested the women workers as traitors and sent them up north to "fend" for themselves. The postcard says the creek and bridge was named after local Indian Chief Sope. I didn't know that.

The card goes on to say the bridge was built about 1870 (I didn't know that either). The card also says the nails were wooden pegs... another thing I did not know. See how educational reading a postcard can be?
It is not on the card but it was destroyed in 1963, I knew that one.  A next door neighbor one year younger than i, Carol Joe Clayton, and I grew up togethers, from toddlers to adulthood.  Carol Joe and an oncoming truck had a head-on collision at night and the bridge was destroyed and so was my lifetime buddy.  I was in the Navy then.

 

Marie's Postcards: Chattanooga, Fountain Square

 Marie Postcard Collection: This is Fountain Square, Chattanooga. On the back it says Junction of Georgia Avenue and Lookout Streets showing Fireman's Memorial Fountain and Cannons captured by the U.S. Troops at Santiago de Cuba by U.S. Troops.

Cannons captured by the U.S. Troops at Santiago de Cuba by U.S. Troops?

It seems to me with all the Civil War and early train relics lying around Chattanooga it would more fittingly as a memorial park to have something of Chattanooga's past - hey! Let's not forget that in Chattanooga was where the 'Trail of Tears' Native Americans was first herded together to cross the Tennessee River on Ross's Ferry (Ross was a Native American also).

Tooting My Own Horn

 

Tooting My Own Horn

I have been blogging daily my blog Chicken-fat.com since 2006.  When I make my daily post, out of nosiness, I check that stats to see how many visitors I had the day before.

Up until recently I have had between 50 and a couple 100 visitors each day.  But in the past week or so the attendance has increased a whole lot.  For instance yesterday I had 11,520 visitors.  Today, so far, has been 8863.  At times last week it has been up over 15,000 a couple of times.

I have no idea why the big increase.  I have not changed subject matter or anything.  My text, as aways, looks like an English teacher would love to get ahold of it with a red pencil.

Who knows?

HAPPY COLUMBUS DAY!

 

Jones Menfolk in Studio

 

Here are the Jones brothers and cousins: Oscar Jones, Walter Jones, Claude Jones, Homer Jones, Henry Jones, and Leiman James of the Alpharetta-Milton-Forsyth Col, Ga. area c1900. Walter is Anna's great grandfather.

Liberals Are Good

 

SUNDAY FUNNIES!!! HELP Magazine, DOGPATCH

Art by Will Elder, Story by Ed Fisher.  Normally if the art is by Will Elder the story will be by Harvey Kurtzman.  But not this time.  This was written by the famous NEW YORKER cartoonist Ed Fisher (1926-2013).

This story has been on Chicken-Fat's SUNDAY FUNNIES before, but in case you missed it.

Leroy Burton Poor, cousin

 

Hunter first cousins – Our second cousin: Leroy Burton Poor (1925-2018) has died on July the 19th. Our grandfather Frank Paris Hunter and his grandmother Arminta Jane Hunter Poor are siblings.

Mayes Ward Obituary:

Leroy Burton Poor, Kennesaw, passed away peacefully on July 19, 2018. Visitation will be held from 1:00 – 2:00 pm, at Mayes Ward Dobbins Funeral Home, Marietta, on Sunday, July 22. The service will follow in the Chapel with the Rev. Phillip Young officiating. Interment will be immediately after at Cheatham Hill Memorial Park in Marietta.

Leroy was born on March 28, 1925, in his parents’ home on Mill Street in Woodstock, Georgia, the fourth of five boys born to Albert and Ruby Lee Poor. Leroy grew up loving the outdoors, fishing, hunting and exploring with a keen sense of adventure and curiosity. In 1942, at the age of seventeen, Leroy convinced his father to sign for him to follow two of his older brothers, Albert Jr. and James by joining the United States Navy to defend his country. Never one to talk much about his wartime experiences, questioning from his sons and grandchildren revealed both peaceful and harrowing times as a Sailor. On June 8, 1944, Leroy’s first ship, The USS Rich, sank off the coast of Normandy after making contact with three German mines. Leroy was the only one of his 7-man gun crew to survive the explosion and sinking of his ship. After recovering, Leroy was assigned to the USS Lacerta where he served in the Pacific Theater experiencing several major actions including the Invasion of Okinawa. After the war in 1946, Leroy married the love of his life, Annette Hicks, who he had known as a child but with whom he reconnected after the war. Leroy and Annette were happily married for over 70 years before her passing. They raised four boys and spent their retirement years pulling travel trailers all over the country. Leroy was retired from Lockheed after 32 years as a Tool and Die Maker.

He was predeceased by his parents, Albert Sr. and Ruby Lee, his step mother, Ethel Brannen Poor, his brothers, Albert Jr., Lewis and James, his wife Annette and his daughter-in-law, Wonda.

Surviving are his brother, Col. (Ret.) William T. Poor, his sons, Terry (Cynthia), Albert, Danny (Sue) and Charles Poor. Additional survivors are 7 grandchildren and 14 loving great grandchildre.

Milton Martin

 

Just a day or so ago a storm named Milton was raging in Florida.

When I thought of its name I thought of an old friend named Milton.  Milton Martin.  There is a Milton Martin car dealership of Gainesville, Georgia, but I don’t think it is the same Milton.

We moved from Manget Street to Richard Street in about 1954.  I was in the 8^th Grade. 

A block away was The Boston Homes.   The Boston Homes was a rental project.  It was on a side of  hill.

Richard Street went to the “4 Lane” aka “41 Highway”.

I made friends with people who lived in The Boston Homes.   Two of my new friends were Milton Martin and Gene Brown. 

Milton and I had the same sense of humor and seemed to catch on to the other’s wit. 

As I said Richard Street ran into the 4-Lane, across the 4-Lane was a thick patch of woods.  About 4 of us built a little cabin, or “Hide Out” in the thick, which would later be the area the amusement park White Water would be.  I remember one time, after the Hideout was built we stocked it with girly magazines.  The girls wore low-cuts.  Some of our younger friends could not understand why you coud not tilt the picture sideways and peep down their low-cuts.

Milton and I had a silent game going on that only we understood.  We pretended we were making a movie of all our friends, without their knowledge.  When one was doing something stupid one of us would make a buzzing noise like a movie camera might make… only us two caught on.

Almost next door to Milton was a young man named Crowe.  I think he lived with his parents.  He worked at WFOM FM Radio.  Later years I think he was one of the top officers of the  radio station.

I think Acworth Beach opened in 1954 or ’55.  On Easter that time my sister Frances, who had her drivers’ license decided to go to Acworth Beach and lie on the beach to get sun.  Milton and I decided to go with her.  We did very little beach or swimming time, but instead walked around the beach park.  Not far away we saw a bunch of row boats turned upside down on the ground.  There was a “Boats for rent” sign.  I think we were their only customers that Easter Morning.  We rowed across the lake to the other side.  We discovered there were a lot of little tributaries coming into the lake.  We rowed up and down the little water paths, seeing trees hanging overhead and so.  It was awesome. 

What we did not realized until hours later we were sun-cooked.  We were red as lobsters.  And the next day at school I was in pain, I could hardly move.  In time I peeled.  But some near 70 years later parts of my body exposed to the sun that day are darker and you can definite see my bathing suit lines.

Milton was a couple years older than I.  I remember when he became eligible he joined the Air Force.  I remember the night before his physical examination he ate plenty of bananas.  He was afraid he underweight to join the military.

It must have worked. 

Away he went, I don’t think he returned.

Miss Shouse, Mrs Kinney 5th grade teacher

 

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

Preacher's House in Varnell, Ga

 

This house is in the middle of Varnell, Georgia. Varnell is between Dalton, Tunnel Hill, and Cohutta, Georgia. There was a fish hatchery nearby, Prather's Mill, and a lot of farms. This house used to be white and it was the preachers house. It is vacant now. My grandmother and her daughter and grandson lived next door in what now is a vacant lot.

On the other side of the preacher's house were railway tracks and a water tower for the trains. When I was about 5 years old and visiting my grandmother I went next door to play with the preacher's daughter who was about my age. A little while later someone noticed we both were missing and they hollered for us. I stuck my heard out from the opening in the top of the water tower and asked what did they want. I don't remember that they flipped out, but I think they probably did. I know I would have.

I think we were on a ladder on the inside leading down the water.

Below the house then was a big spring with tiny rocks and tiny little back periwinkle shells that kept the water clean. My sister and I used to go there, which was just about 100 feet away and bring back water. I don't think they had running water. I think they had an outhouse which I thought was amusing.

My sister and I returned to Varnell in 2007. There was still only one store in down but it was now a big convenience store and a country family didn't own it, a Far Eastern Indian did. He wanted to know what we were doing.

Before my time and even before my mother's family moved to Varnell, in the early 1900s, two Mormons came to Varnell handing out literature. Sometimes people are not so tolerant of outsiders handing out pamphlets. The men folk carried the two Mormons down by the spring and shot them dead..

Haunted House was at Dobbins AFB

 

This house is no longer. It has been torn down. It did belong to a family who owned a lot of land in the area. The area being Dobbins AFB and Lockheed Martin. When the government took it over and it was vacated, then the next rumor was it was haunted. It was turned into an Officer’s Club. Some claim in the rest rooms they felt a “presence” Like someone or something was very close to them in the restrooms. I have been there one time for a birthday or a retirement party. I did not sense a presence. When I wen t to the rest room. That was before I heard rumor. If had know of the rumor I might have sensed ghosts, if only I knew what to imagine.

Someplace on the Lockheed Martin Air Force property I heard my Hunter kin had a farm. One time an uncle of mine went onto the property with a shotgun. He was drunk. He told the Lockheed Guards the property was rightfully his and now get off!

Guess who won.

Cuba Cards and Steaks

 

Just reviewing some early pictures.  This is about 1971 when we lived in Smyrna, Ga.   This is at the dining room table playing Canasta with a Cuban couple. 

You have not played Canasta Cards until you play with Cubans.  They screamed, laughed, shook their arms to show their exciment.  Every draw was a life or death act.

The Cuban couple owned a ranch in Cuba.  They rubbed the Cuban government wrong and they had to go.  They took a midnight boat to Miami. 

Their daughter’s husband was a fellow timekeeper for the Post Office in  Atlanta.  He had to work the night this picture was taken.

I remember the night this picture was taken I cooked steaks on a Hibachi, T-Bone or Porterhouse, next to the caport.  The man came out  and we talked as I flipped the meat.  I suppose that is a universal tradition, when having company in nice weather the man of the house cooks outside and the visiting male keeps the cook company and talk about man things.

He spoke Spanish or Latino and I spoke Southern Fried.  We had a hard time understanding each other so we smiled at each other a lot and nodded enthusiastically. 

Then when putting the steaks on a platter one slipped and fell on the ground.  I showed him I was angry at myself and I would eat the dropped steak.  He shook his head and signed that no, he would eat the fallen steak.  He insisted.  I insisted.

I forgot which of us won but we agreed it would be our secret, the women folk had no need to know about it.

 

BOOK REPORT (comicbook): WEIRD SCIENCE Issues 7 – 12) Vol 2.  WEIRD SCIENCE was a comic book in the 1950s published by EC Comics, who also brought you other sci-fi comic plus Horror Comics (TALES FROM THE CRYPT, etc). war comics, and last but not least humor & satire comics (MAD & PANIC).

When William Gaines father Max,  was killed in a boating accent, William ended up running EC Comics, which then EC stood for Educational Comics but soon stood for Entertainment Comics.  William was not happy with his new responsibility and planned to sell it.  But as it turned out he and artist/editor teamed up and put out some very entertaining books and money making comic books.  The science fiction line was not a money maker.  They lost money.  But Science Fiction was where William and Al’s heart were. 

I read this book on-loan from my Kendal ipad through the LIBBY system.   It had about two dozen very interesting scifi stories.  The artists includes Wally Wood (excellent sci fi illustrator),  Al Feldtein, Harvey Kurtzman (creator of MAD Comicbook), Joe Orlando, Jack Kamen and more.

Some of the stories were openly stolen. Publisher William Gaines said “everybody did it back then), and some was much like O’Henry Stories.

I think I have read all these stories in my preteen youth but they were still just as entertaining.  They are withstanding the test of time.