James & Bessie Abercrombie Arnette

Arnette, James and son

3 Lions' Heads Drooling

These three lion heads are some fancey work behind an old brick building that used to be a warehouse, but now is a yuppie brokerage office building, facing the railroad tracks in downtown Marietta.

See the lighter color under the mouths of the lions? I have never been there while it was raining but it looks like it is designed to catch the rain and let the water flow out of their mouths.

That must be a strange sight, like three Lions looking at you and drooling.

Another Waiting Room

Another reading session in another waiting room for about four hours.
I mostly read, but I did notice a few things around me.
Fox News is about the worse formatted news in the TV broadcasting business. Now, I see why Dick Cheney won't watch anything but Fox News.

Near me were two men, probably in their late 50s or early 60s. One of the men was fascinated with a thick coffee-table book of movie collectibles. At times he would point things out to his friend and tell him how much it is worth these days. Mostly when I glanced when he was pointing out would be what looked like a frame of Disney cartoons.

Then he pointed out a upright piano, telling his friend it was the movie Casablanca and is now worth $300,000. They both agreed that was a great movie. Well, I thought, two chats who are liberal arts fans. Then one of them said, "Clark Gable gave his finest performance in that movie."
Clark Gable?
I should have butted in and said, "Yeah, and Humphrey Bogart did a great job playing one of the 3 Stooges too!"
But I didn't. It is not me to meddle.

Anyway, the thought occurred to me that it might be a private joke between them, to see if there were any takers.

The guy that possessed the artsy book had on shorts, black socks, and dress shoes. His legs were white and hairless. Which reminded me of a man who eats breakfasts at the same place we sometimes do and he wear shorts, black socks, and dress shoes and his legs are white and hairless. I wonder if there is some kind of correlation?

A young man and his wife were there. I think the man was waiting to go under the knife because he was filling out paper work. He, I didn't pay much attention to, but his wife had on a low-cut blouse that the top cupped each boob partially, probably 3/4 of each boob was exposed to any eyes in the waiting room - which they certainly got my attention - I wasn't looking around to see if it got anybody else's attention or not.

Anna's lady gyn materialized in front of me and sat down. It was kind of surprising because I am not a memorable person. People look through me, not even knowing I am there, and instantly forgotten when I am out of their focus, and I only met her once, so I expected her to call for Mr.Hunter and look around. But she didn't, she picked me out of a crowd and came right up. She is tall, graceful, pretty like Gina Davis, and very laid back. She told me the operation went fine and she said it didn't think there would be anything found with the biopsy.

Good.

Going Under the Blade

This morning I am to take my wife Anna to a surgical center to have a "procedure" done. They said expect to be there between 4 to 6 hours. Another person said between 6 and 8 hours. I'm afraid to ask again - do I hear from 8 to 10 hours?

Wish her luck.

When I Win The Lottery

When I win the Lottery one of the first things I plan to do is to hire a troop of mimes, all with painted white-faces, derby hats and cell-phones. And then carry them all to the mall and give them instructions to follow and mimic people walking and talking on their cell-phones.

Me The Ignored.

I have always claimed that generally I am ignored unless somebody wants something from me.

In the paper this morning was a article about someone I was in school with, which reminded me of his friend Micky.

Micky was a couple grades ahead of me in school. One Friday afternoon, at the drugstore we hung out at as teenagers, Mickey asked me to lend him some money for a date.

I lent him the last $3 I had.

That night I stayed home until about 10:30 and went to the Burger Basket. The Burger Basket was one of the places teenagers would gather late at night and socialize.

I met up with another friend Larry and we were just sitting around talking to different people we knew. The waitresses didn't keep up with who were paying customers and who weren't.

Around 11:30 or so Mickey came in. His date was over. He sat at the table with us and ordered a hamburger and Coke which when it was brought cost $2.95. He looked at at the seeded hamburger bun and the potato chips and said he didn't know why he he ordered that, he just wasn't hungry.

He offered the hamburger to Larry. Larry said he didn't want it. Mickey said he wished he would take it, because he would just have to throw it away if he didn't want it.

Hey! That burger was brought with my money and he didn't even consider giving it to me.

Asshole.

Frank and Ollive Kuykendall

This is Frank and Ollive Kuykendall and their son Archiebald, who became a well known person in the comminity and his sister Ethel who married a Sheffield.

Just a glance at their names and the Soundex system in mind, the first thing I think of is Kuka, Fran, and Olive. And if it does the same to you, all I can say is, "What about that Medicare!"

They are related to my side of the family and also related Anna's side of the family.

The Navy and Me IV

Above my cube-mate Ray entering into the bar/restaurant in the Village through the courtyard with no shingle or sign and Don at the Guggenheim Art Museum taking a picture of me taking a picure of him.

Chief Kobus assigned me to the passage-way (Navy talk) where all the administration offices were.

In a row were first the commanding officer’s office, then the administration office, then the legal office, then the Squadron’s publication office, then the mail room, next the personnel office, next the I & E Office (Information and Education), then the rest rooms, one for officers and one for the enlisted. There were no women in our squadron so further division wasn’t needed. Then some kind of operations office, next a little office with a teletype machine that often would print off important information, a lot of it confidential. And after that, the last office, another part of operations. And the last room was a room full of bunk beds, for people that was on watch any given night.

I know the paragraph above is not important to you and you might have said, “Who cares?” Well, I do. It is good mind exercise..

I didn’t have much to do. Sweep it with a dust mop once or twice a day and hand around in the hall with a duster in case a door opened you could get busy. I wouldn’t be missed if I did leave my work area, which I ventured out a couple of times.

Standing in the hallway (passage way) day after day, I had several conversations with Don in personnel and his friend Rueben, from the bayous of Louisiana. The three of us decided to go New York City Saturday. In fact, that will be two Saturdays in a row for NYC.

That Saturday we went again on the bus.

We first went and stood in a very long line at Radio City Music Hall. Once inside we got to see the Rocketts perform. Afterwards we walked up to Fifth Avenue and went into Saint Patrick’s Cathedral and then walked on up by the Plaza Hotel, which I was impressed by the New York finery of the horse and carriages and the door men at the hotel in royal looking hats. Then on up Fifth Avenue with Central Park on our left until got as far as the Metropolitan Museum. All three of us were Salvador Dali fans, so we looked his stuff up. I think that is where we saw Dali’s Cubical Crucifixion and it seems his wife Gala was in a couple, nude.

After the Metropolitan we walked back down 5th Avenue and across the street and went to the Guggenheim Art Museum. We were impressed with the art and the design of that building, take an elevator to the top and walk down a spiral, by design you couldn’t miss anything, where at the Metropolitan you could easily by bypass a room.

After we finished up with there we took a bus all the way down 5th Avenue to the huge Arch de Triumph- look-a-like or whatever, that I soon considered the gateway to Greenwich Village.

We really enjoyed the park that was held the Arch. A lot of eccentric people considered it a common water hole. There was a big fountain, park benches, trees, and, usually some young people strumming their guitars.

If, when going by the Arch from Fifth Avenue, if I remember correctly, if you go straight or to the left you would be on NYU campus, and if you followed the side walk at a right slant from the fountain and cross the street you would be in the Village.

We all read quiet a bit so we were delighted to see a lot of bookstores, some new and some used. There were two bars in the area we like to visit.

One was Julius’s and one was Chumly’s. I got the names mixed up and forgot which one was which. The one that was on a corner had a peanut shells all over the floor and a small sandwich bar where you go up and order your sandwich and the cook would holler at you when it was ready. I think they had delicious unique french fries and extra juicy thick hambugers. It was kinda behind The Village Voice. When you walked by the Village Voice I think their building was shaped like a V to confirm with the shape of the block, then turn right and up a block and cross the side street you would be there.

The other one was sort of in a residential part of the Village. You had to go through a front gate, then a court yard, with no kind of sign or shingle whatsoever. I think I heard it was a leftover from the prohibition days. Inside was dark with good smooth music. The walls were lined with signed book jackets and pictures. We saw William Price Fox and Shel Silverstine there, no together.

Through the next two years we kept going back to these same two bars, also during the next two years we visited Café’ A-Go-Go and The Bitter End to hear the music.

Late that night we left as we came, through Port Authority and into the blackness of New Jersey through Tony Soprano’s territory.

The Stovall Bread and Breakfast/Moses Harshaw

Pictured above is what was in the mid 1800s Moses Harshaw house. It is in north Georgia, in the Sautee Valley Community, just down the road from the Stovall Covered Bridge from an earlier blog. I think the Stovalls bought the house after Moses owned it.

Weekly on Mondays at 7:00 our local PBS (channel 8) TV has a genealogy research 30 minute segment.

Last night's segment was about a lady in Washington state who started researching one of her related surnames: Harshaw. It told that she only had one note about her ancestor, a James Harshaw, in Ireland in a certain area who was also a representative. That is all the information she had and she told how she went about finding more about this James Harshaw and how she and her family finally went to the little town her g-g-g-g grandfather James Harshaw lived and got to meet other distant Harshaw relatives.

Harshaw is a rare name in this area and it reminded me of the only Harshaw I have heard of, Moses Harshaw.

I think I have blogged about Moses before. He was considered the meanest man in Georgia at the time. I won't bore you with the same story twice.

Moses was sort of an in-law to in-laws to my Hunter ancestors. My g-g-g grandfather John Hunter had a daughter and a son who married siblings with the last name England. The England siblings' aunt, was Moses wife for a several years but divorced him.

It is kind of ironic now that his house of evil is now a bed and breakfast and they also do weddings, which is what they were decorating for when we dropped by.

I Told Him a Thing or Two!

As you may recall in my previous blog I told of my wife's chiropractor's raising his prices at least 4X to get all he could from the insurance.

Well, today I went to him, and when he got my on his table working my spine I told him a thing or two about how unfair it was, cheating the patient and the insurance company. Yesiree, I told him a thing or two about good ethics.

By the way, he tried a new procedure on me. How do you like it?

I Do the Math

I am a little confused with this New Math.

My wife goes to her chiropractor fairly often. Each visit costs her $40. Beginning at the first of the year our insurance company started allowing chiropractor visits with a fifteen dollar co-payment, just like our other doctor visits. Great!

After visiting her doctor twice we got a statement from our insurance company saying the chiropractor’s office billed them for two visits at something like a hundred bucks each visit. So, now that the insurance company was footing the bill the price was jacked up, which the insurance company paid.

Then we got a bill from the chiropractor’s office for $65.00 with a long list on the statement what was billed, itemized and what the insurance company paid and the difference was $65.00.

Wait! Anna paid a $15 co-payment on each visit. So, she already paid them $30. And they want $65 more from her, which would total $95.00 alone, $15 more than if she didn’t use insurance, plus they want a hundred bucks for each visit from the insurance company.

So, the chiropractor hopes to receive $295.00 for services rendered compared to $80 if insurance wasn’t involved.

I wonder what his major in Chiropractor’s school was – Profit margins?

Now It Is Iran

Was it Iran instead or Iraq the whole time and GWB just got the last letter confused? After all, apparently Iran is seriously looking at Weapons of Mass Destructions and Iraq didn't have them at all.
And now the news came out that the administration was considering attacking Iran with nuclear weapons, which the White House is now downplaying.
Wait, now I am confused - maybe it was Iran instead of Iraq, all because of the q and n confusion, but isn't it us with the Weapons of Mass Destruction?

Jamming

A jam session under the shade trees on the 4th Saturday, see below.

The Acworth Opry

Last night we went to Acworth Opry in the town of Acworth not far away. It is bluegrass music. The Opry is held in an old barn once a month, the 2nd Saturday night of each month. http://www.acworthopry.com/Bluegrass-Music-Picking.html

We have been attending since they started it about four years ago. We used to go to all of concerts there, but in the wintertime sitting in a big barn with no insulation and wide cracks between boards that allow the wind to whistle through it is a bit much to suffer through when there is no point of suffering. So, we just go the warmer months, and they took our cue and began closing November through February. They already had one this year in March, but the one last night is the first one for the year we have been to – and it was cold. It was a warm day, but rainy and stormy. We didn’t expect it to be cold and didn’t dress accordingly but since we were there anyway we decided to stick it out and glad we did, the music was great.

It is free if you want it to be. They pass a bucket around. We usually put a five dollar bill in it, which we did last night. They have electronic expenses and some upkeep expense, so the money is needed to keep it going.

The barn in located on what was once a big family farm. A nice “home place” house with a nice yard and several nice shade trees. The City of Acworth bought it turned it into a park. About a hundred feet from the house is the barn that the concerts are held in, and the house and barn sit on top of a hill. At the bottom of the hill is a large pond that at one time I would think the live stock would come and get their water. However now, there is a big spewing off fountain of water in the middle of it. Which kind of takes away from the rustic farm look. And next to it is what was the pasture, but now is a paved walk around the perimeter of the pasture/now soccer field.

I said the concerts are the 2nd Saturday of each warm month. On the 4th Saturday night they have jam sessions under the trees in front of the home place house. We attended those several times and are very interesting for music reasons and people watching. I finally figured out that at these jam sessions is when the groups discover each other and form their own groups. Like someone with a banjo might arrive and stand and listen to one of the groups and decide the group doesn’t have the music chemistry he wants to be part of and move on to the next group…. There, he might like what they are doing and asks if he can join in… which he does, and how he is accepted or not accepted I don’t know. Its not my problem.

People of all kinds show up as players and audience. There are old country people, young rednecks, young trendy yuppies, and kids running all over the place.

The stage is an old flatbed trailer with wheels. They have stage lights that can be controlled to make them strong, weak, redirect, and all that stuff. However, the same person who controls the lights also controls the sound system, and the recordings. Afterwards he makes CDs of the group and goes home and makes duplicates and they are available next time.

The performers are people who love music and haven’t quit their day job. Most of them are very dedicated musicians. The only award they get is to rap with fellow music makers and a clapping audience. There are some players who are obviously professional kind of people, and some that have a non-pretentious way about them and worn clothes that you would think they are mechanics, roofers, and other kind of hands-on kinds of jobs. What I get a pleasure of they are not dressed pretentious, like say, Roy Rogers’ group would be dressed, or even The Pips. These people, some even have little sewed in name-tags kind of uniform shirts. They are the salt of the earth and pretend nothing else.

The overseer is a guy named Jim who works is a route insecticide man. He is the second one to be in charge. Before him was a guy name Stan. Jim plays the bass fiddler and fills in with that if needed for some bands but he also hustles around to make sure the groups, usually 4 or 5 a night, come on time.

Jim was a huge man and could hardly walk. Now, he had his stomach reduced in size and he looks much differently now. He did weigh I bet near 400 pounds now he probably weights 200. But it came with a price. He doesn’t have the deep voice he used to project, now it is slightly above a whisper. Either his lungs were effected by reduction or his energy was, I can’t figure out which.

Their concession stand is a unique. Behind them they have a pork roast of some kind on an outdoor grill keeping warm and also keeping that good old bbq smell in the air, they have cornbread and beans, and hot dogs and hamburgers, pre-made and oh-yeah, a southern special: boiled peanuts.

The whole place kind of reminds me of a watering hole for different walks of life and sometimes natural enemies.

The Navy and I, Part III

Where was I? Oh yes, I received a new corrected set of orders to transfer to Helicopter Utility Squadron Four (HU-4), there at NAS Lakehurst. No travel paid involved.

I reported to the HU-4 duty office at the 2nd large hangar. Where most people arrive reporting for duty in dress whites (dress is a must when traveling with orders) and with their duffle bag, I was dressed in denim and looked like I had just walked off the streets, the only thing I had with me were my orders.

The duty CPO (Chief Petty Officer) told me to report to the second floor to the personnel office.

On each side of the hangar were levels high, or two and half, there was a mezzanine also of offices. On the other side of the hangar was another helicopter squadron, HU-2.

In time I would learn that HU-4 served smaller ships such as destroyers and ice-breakers in the Artic and HU-2 served aircraft carriers.

I entered Personnel and presented the guy at the counter my orders. A couple more guys behind the counter came up and since I had an audience I told them how I was first assigned to the U.S.. J.K. TAUSSIG, but got sent here, 13 miles inland, and my stay at the Security building. They all seemed to have found the humor in the situations.


Then, one said “Lets see your dick.”
I, surprised, said, “Huh?”
Another one said, “Come on, lets see your dick, pull it out.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because we want to see it. Come on, pull it out”, and they leaved over the counter to get a better look.
I could feel my face getting flushed. I didn’t know what was going to happen next.
Then all the men behind the counter, maybe six now, all burst out laughing.

It was kind of a joke-initiation they did on all newcomers, providing the officer of the office was not around.

I checked into the HU-4 enlisted barracks which is probably between a mile and a mile and a half from the hangar. There the MA (Master of Arms) issued me a blanket, two sheets, pillow, and pillow case.

The barracks building had a bottom floor and top floor. The bottom floor on end had a game room, which was mostly a pool room. And on the other end was the head (restroom), showers, washing machines, dryers, and a press to press your clothes. The top floor had the same design except instead of the game room was a TV room.

All the comforts of home. Except you were not allowed to drink in the barracks and you had to turn the lights out at 10:00, but the game room and TV room both were going on 24 x 7.

The dormitory of the barracks, top and bottom was made of cubicals. Each cubical slept 4 men, on two sets of over-under bunks. Each cubical was to have a writing table and four lockers.

Two of my cube-mates were out on detachments. A detachment was what was called a group temporary on a ship. My cube-mate there was named Marlow. Marlow looked very much like Mike Myers. He was from either West Virginia or Maryland.

As most new people at my position (the bottom of the pecking order) I was assigned the First Lieutenant’s Division. The 1st Lt’s division men were the housekeepers of the squadron. They swept, mop, polished, dusted – you name it. The boss was Chief Kobus, from Chicago, his assistant was a guy named Wineguard, and the clerk for that office was a baby face tall lanky guy at least 6’4” named Perkins, from Maryland. Perkins always had a cigarette hanging out of mouth and he looked like some kind of child-giant he was so tall with his baby face. He looked like a walking contrast.

The only thing worse than that department if mess cooking. The squadron had to supply the chow hall with 4 people. Their stay there was about 6 months. Most of the that worked there had to get up at 2am… it was a place we all dread we might be sent one day.

The rule was your sea bag (duffle bag contents) had to have your complete uniform with your name properly stenciled in the right places. If you had you sea bag inspected and it passed you would get “LA” stamped on your liberty card and that mean when you showed the guards at the gate you could come and go in civilian clothes.

Of course that was worth something. You would be treated like a social outcast if you have to drink at bars and go to movies and things with a uniform on.

I worked hard getting my uniform up to date and made sure everything was properly stenciled in the right place. I asked Chief Kobus to check my sea bag for the LA. He told me to get Winegard to check it out, he was too busy. I asked Winegard and he told me to see Perkins. Perkins was the same rate as I was, why would he be inspecting my sea bag. Anyway, I asked Perkins and he looked at me like that was a lot of trouble to take those long stilt legs to the barracks to check out my sea bag. He asked me if I had my liberty card, which I did, I pulled it out. He reached across his desk, got the “LA” stamp and stamped it on my liberty card. That was that.

I told my cube-mate Marlow about the LA stamped on my card. He laughed. He said, “Now, where are you going, now that you can?”

Bars? I speculated.

Then we talked about New York City. You can get on the bus and go to New York. I said I just may do that. He said he hadn’t been to the big city so if I didn’t mind, he would go with me.

Early Saturday we left on the bus.

Again, I found my eyes glued to a bus’s windows. We made our way north. There was a big difference going north from Lakehurst than going East to Lakehurst. Going east to Lakehurst it looked more rural – barns, pastures, small quaint towns. Going north was more urban. More towns and more industrial kind of settings. And more inner city graffiti. And just outside Newark was huge smelly oil processing areas.

From the New Jersey side we could see the Statue of Liberty, and the big building of Manhattan in the background. We went down a hill, hit some backed up traffic and next we went through the Lincoln Tunnel. That was an eye opener for a Georgia boy too.

I remember leaving the Lincoln Tunnel and as the bus made its way up a block or two I saw windows with pulley-type clothes lines close to windows. Some windows had plants in tray shaped holders that held under the window. Wow! New Yorkers!

The bus pulled into Port Authority which is on or near 42nd Street.

We walked through the huge building and out in New York City. I was amazed. We more or less took a look-but-don’t-stop tour of the area. We walked by and area with several movie theaters, on to Times Square, walked down Time Square and saw the fork where the Big Ball falls every year.

I remember a bunch of come-on stores that was meant to rope the tourists in. Also, there was a Ripley’s Believe It Or Not.

The park on 42nd, about behind the library with the two lions, was a man singing operatic. He was good…. But had to resort to street performances for spare change and maybe hoping to be discovered.

We took a combination of subways that only Marlow know, and ended up in Brooklyn. There we went through a court yard and knocked on the door of an apartment. A woman answered. She had a baby in her arms. Marlow knew the woman well, and they talked a good deal about their friends.

After we left, we made our way back. I forgot what we ate for lunch and dinner. We probably had street vender sandwiches.

In the evening we went to a club that had a big picture of Chubby Checker on the outside. We went in, paid the cover charge and sure enough there was Chubby Checker there singing. He sung the twist a lot that night. It seemed more couples were interested in dancing to the twist than watching Chubby to perform.

Nest we went to a USO on the east side of 5th Avenue. We hung out there for a while and thought it would be best to find a cheap place to sleep or walk back to Port Authority and head back to Lakehurst.

When we walked out of the USO an slick Italian-looking guy materialized and struck up a conversation. It didn’t take me long to figure out the guy was making a play for Marlow.

He told us we could sleep at his place, but he had room for only one of us, so if one would come with him he would give the other one the money to stay at the Sloan House YMCA. He and Marlow walked me to the Sloan House and he gave me fifty bucks and I went in and Marlow and he split.

I slept in a small room. That morning I went to restroom and it was crowded with men doing their hygiene and taking dumps and pissing.

It was Sunday.

I went back to Port Authority. I forgot the details but I think I was to meet Marlow at a prearranged time. I was there earlier than I should had, the room only cost $15, so I had a nice breakfast. I looked at magazines for a while at a magazine stand, sat and enjoyed watching people a while. And I returned to the 42nd and Times Square area to hear more of that hustle bustle store front blaring music coming from the tourist traps.

I got back to Port Authority and went to a bar in the building and ordered a Manhattan. That seemed appropriate at the time. So did the second one. And the third.

During the 3rd Manhattan I began to think about my hero of years ago, the creator and editor of MAD comic book, Harvey Kurtzman. Somehow, from his satires I pretty much decided he was a New York City resident. So, I went into a telephone booth at the bar and lugged the big telephone book and looked up Kurtzman, Harvey.

To my delight Harvey Kurtzman was listed in the telephone book, it showed him living in Mount Vernon, NY, and I felt bold enough to dial the number. Harvey answered the phone. He was very polite and thanked me for calling.

Not long after that Marlow showed up at our preplanned time. He acted as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened to him recently. We rode back on the bus.

We were back on the base in time to eat dinner. Which I did. IMarlow climbed into his rack (his was the second level over me) and slept until the next morning.

In the chow line was a young man I recognized as being one of the people in the Personnel Office leaning over the counter to see if I was going to expose myself or not.

He introduced himself to me. His name was Don. I told him about Marlow and I going to NYC from Saturday morning and just within 30 minutes arriving back. He asked where did we stay and I said the Sloan House YMCA. He said, “Both of you?” … I stumbled on that and dodged the question. Don then had a focus. It was uncanny how he deducted it all, which he pretty much hit it all on the head…. He was questioning me with smile on his face. By instinct he asked the questions that pointed right to what Marlow did.

After we had dinner Don and I walked over to EM Club to have a few beers. He is from Chicago, his mother’s name is Mike, a Chicago cop, and his father worked the railroads. His father was blind in one eye. It seems there is a game played by different railroad company employees, a “gotcha!” game…. If you can hit one of them with a bb gun, you, well, win. Win what, I am not sure. His father was hit in the eye by a bb.

Don and I became friends and our friendship lasted many years (about 20 years) after we were released from active duty.

To be continued.

Good Cajun Food

Today we ate lunch at a Cajun joint. We haven’t eaten at this place in about a year. We were the only white people there. We were the only white people there last time also.

Anna was trying to remember what she had last time, so she could try something different this time. Did she have the red beans and rice? If so, she would like to try the Cajun rice. But, if she had the Cajun rice last time she would like to have the red beans and rice this time. She asked me did I remember and I said no, but she should ask the people at the counter they might remember (get it?).

Wait! There was another person there not black.

In the kitchen, which can be seen at the counter, was a very innocent looking beautiful Spanish teenage girl with big innocent brown eyes. She was watching everybody around her and taking it all in. I could tell it was her first day. She has to learn the English language to be able to communicate with her co-workers, and not only that, but the local colloquialism as well… the only thing she had to go on was the body language which is universal. She looked frighten. I felt for her.

The food was good. What I had was spicy enough to loosen my sinuses. And the music was good. On CDs they were playing New Orleans type of music, from Dixieland, Cajun folk, and Xaderan (?).

It was a pleasant meal. Until we went to the restrooms before we left.
I had no complaints about the restroom. But Anna came out having feeling nauseating. She said there was a giant turd laying in the toilet bowl that was just too big to make it down the pipes.

I’m glad we ate first and went to the bathroom secondly. Otherwise, we may have missed out on some good Cajun cooking.

Natural Formations

I don't understand it. The geyser is suppose to be right here.

Harvey Pekar and American Splendor

This is a comic book put out by a middle aged man named Harvey Pekar. He draws a rough “thumbnail” sketch in cartoon sequence the story he is telling and each story is interpreted by a different artists. Famed underground cartoonist Robert Crumb is one of his frequent contributing artists.

Harvey Pekar and Robert Crumb have some things they have in common.: They are both from Cleveland, Ohio, and they both love old blues and jazz 33 rpm records.

Harvey stores he tells is nothing he makes up. It is his day to day living. Some of it is amusing and some of it is sad. It is like a visual blog on paper.

Harvey is a file clerk for a hospital in Cleveland and gets file clerk pay. He and his wife have a hard time making ends meet. He is also a cancer patient. His comic book business helps some as an extra income.

At times he has been on the David Letterman Show, but he is so eccentric and unpredictable I think he wore out his welcome.

There is also a movie of his life named, of course, American Splendor, which I thought was done very well.

For Christmas my son gave me “The Best of American Splendor” which I am still slowly looking at, maybe a story a week…. Like a they used to say about a good cigar, take it slow and enjoy it more.

Daniel Webster & Nancy Jane Garrett Petty

These are my great grandparents Daniel and Nancy Jane Petty on my mother's side and their marriage certificate. They were married Sept 6, 1873, in Fannin County, Ga.

After they were married they moved with Daniel's siblings to Murray County, Ga., which is over a big mountain ridge.

Daniel was a Confederate soldier less than 10 years before he married. He caught several types of diseases while fighting which stayed with him the rest of his life and spent a lot of time in the hospital in various cities. He got a pension from the State of Georgia for being receiving his disability in the service.

His wife Nancy Jane was known to have raging fits. Some believed she hit the bottle too much. The kids knew better than to get near her - she had a reputation of jerking them up and shaking them.