Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Another Skeleton In the Closet - really.

From a reliable source this morning I was told the below, my instant reply was:
"Oh my God!"

The man of this household has been mentioned in my blog entries several times. But I prefer to keep his identity confidential, after all it is his family secret and has a right to keep it that way.

Before he worked in Marietta he worked in another state, far away, several days of car travel away.

While they lived in the far away state, his ten year old son, while riding his bike, was ran over and killed. The son was buried in a cemetery. The married couple also has two daughters. The son would be over thirty years old now. I already knew this.

This is the news: When he got a job in this area and they had to move they could not bare the thought of leaving their dead son in a strange cemetery with no one to visit him. They had the son disinterred.

The son's body is with them at their home. I think he is in a closet or maybe even a freezer, I haven't heard that detail. He is brought out for birthday parties.

Once, I remember, somebody asked him did he have a hard time getting over his son's death. He said, "I never had got over it." That response now has a whole different slant.

I See What I Wanna See

Yesterday, between doctor visits we had lunch at a barbecue joint we have been tempted to try. This one was a hole-in-the-wall store-front in a shopping center. The name of it was Thompson Brothers Barbecue.

It was good.

As we sat there and ate I saw a picture on the wall of 5 young black men. All thin, very athletic looking, all perfect teeth white that were unnaturally white. Maybe their father is a dentist. They are the Thompson brothers.

One brother was in a picture by himself. He is a military pilot, standing by an airplane with his flight suit and holding his helmet.

I have no doubt that all the brothers are college graduates.

And looking from where we were sitting into the kitchen door I could see three of the brothers working away, chopping barbecue, and whatever else they had to do.

Then I thought, with their work ethic, if they were white, the place would be crowded with customers. And people would go on about how hard workers they are and good their product is. I know, not far away is Williamson Brothers Barbecue, which is exactly what happened.

I went on thinking (I get dangerous when I think) that a lot of whites would look completely through this band of neat hard-working black brothers, hardly even recognize their existence, but point at a sorry no-good black man to represent the black race for his arguments.

On the other hand, he will look through the sorry no-good white men, as if they don't exist, and pull out a hard working, known for this fair ethics, to represent the white race.

People see what they want to, and you can't get them to see otherwise.

The Da Vinci Code

Yesterday after doctor visits we went to see Da Vinci Code. It was good as we thought it would be. Ron Howard did a very good job.

However, it has been a couple of years since I read the book so I may not be speaking as an expert here, but it appeared to me that some of the sequence was jumbled, and at least two main characters made into one... and to make things simpler, I think a couple of things in the book was omitted, so it wouldn't complicate things.

Taken at face value - without referring, in your mind, back to the book you read years ago, I think it is a great movie.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006


The girl is my mother-in-law Marie holding her baby sister and in the picture are her two brothers. Everybody in the picture grew up and got married and two have died in their '60s.

However, four other siblings had already died at a young age before this picture was taken. Maybe that is why Marie is holding her little sister in a protective manner.

Monday, May 29, 2006

William & Emeline Ray Trammell/Hunter

How to Find Skeletons In the Closet

The reason I got involved in genealogy was that I wanted to tell my newly born son someday about his family history. I couldn’t very well tell him something I didn’t know myself, so I begin asking questions.

I knew my great grandfather William A. Hunter fought in the Civil War on nearby Kennesaw Mountain and I knew he and his wife Emaline Ray were from Franklin, North Carolina. And I knew their living dates, when they were born and when they died.

My grandfather, Frank Hunter, told me that William’s real last name was not Hunter. He often wondered what his last name really was. He said William was raised by someone other than his parents.

I found out Franklin, North Carolina, was in Macon County. After asking around about what to do to find out his parents, someone suggested I look at the census in Macon County the year divided by 10, after his birth. I knew from his tombstone, at a little country church not far from here he was born in 1842. So, I needed to look at the 1850 census. I went to the local library. They had the censuses on microfilm, and slowly went through the 1850 Census of Macon County.

I was looking for an 8 year old boy by the name of William Hunter. I looked at every name on that census. There was only one family with the name of Hunter in Macon County in 1850, the head of the household was a Jason Henderson Hunter. He did not have a son named William, 8 years old. However, he did have a son named William, several years younger.

I did not think this William, of Jason Hunter was the William I was looking for.

My neighbor at that time, worked as an accountant for Bell South. The head of his department was my first cousin’s husband. I asked him did he think he could get the Franklin, NC, telephone book for me and he did.

With the Franklin telephone book to use for the addresses, I wrote every household with the surname of Ray (Emeline’s maiden name) and Hunter I included a SASE (self-addressed stamp envelope). I think I sent between 30 and 40, ten a pay day. After all, my pay was feeding a family of three at the time.

I got two replies back. One Ray man said he didn’t know, but he wished me luck. I guess he just hated to see that stamp and envelope go to waste. The other reply was on a letter head with a logo saying Ray’s Finest Cured Hams. He said he didn’t know much about the Ray genealogy but his cousin did, but he knew I didn’t send his cousin a letter because his cousin didn’t have a telephone, so wouldn’t be in the telephone book. He gave me his cousin’s address, in Otto, NC, just south of Franklin.

I sent his cousin an inquiry.

He wrote be back and said he hated to tell me this but my g-great grandfather name was not William Hunter. It was William Trammell. He went on to say that William and his brother Van Trammell killed a man over a horse and they both were wanted for murder. William escaped to Texas and Van to Arkansas.


Then, I looked up the Trammell family on the Macon County 1850. Jacob and his wife Polly, listed as a Cherokee Indian, had a household full of kids. William Trammell, age 8 was listed as a son. Van Buren Trammell, age 10 was listed.

So! Probably many people thought William and Van were brothers because they had the same last name and lived in the same house, but actually William was Van’s nephew.

And, I found the marriage license for William Trammell and Emaline Ray. They married just a few weeks before the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain. He went of furlough to get married.

And then I started going through the Macon County court records on Microfilm and saw in 1842 Rebecca Trammell sued Jason H. Hunter for Bastardy. She won. Jason was to pay her $100 a year for child support.

Jason also were sued for bastardy three other times. Another time by Rebecca and twice by a woman named Catherine Davis. He didn’t learn his lesson.

That is the secret. That is why Lois Hunter Calloway pitched a shit-fit. She knew all along, that William was a bastard and killed a man and fled Macon County as a wanted man.

Why she was so defensive of William was her father died of a rare disease when Lois was about 3 years old. William and Emaline took in her father’s wife and gave them a home. She grew up in William’s house and eventually was the sole owner of it. I visited her often to copy old pictures and have her tell me family stories.

William was the only father she could relate to. She was defensive over William’s reputation…. And I if I had a different moral look, I might have been defensive too, under the same circumstances.

But if Lois had lived another ten years I could have told her the real story, which wasn’t as bad as the bottom line made it look.

In 1865, months after the war was over Van, in Lambert’s Cove, in Macon County, was having a heated argument with a man with the last name of Lambert. Lambert fought for the Yankees. Of course, there was some post war bitterness towards the men who were “turncoats”. Van hit the Lambert man with a rifle or a large stick, more than once and killed him.

William was not there, so did not participate in ending Lambert’s life.

However, he was Van’s alibi. Van told the sheriff that he didn’t kill Lambert, he was no place near the place Lambert was killed, he was with his nephew William at that time.

And William backed him up, which changed his life.

Through some investigated work the sheriff proved that William was not telling the truth and a warrant was put out for their arrest. Their solution: Get the hell away! They fled.

Interesting little fact that may or may not have a connection. I told you William, as a child, lived with Jacob and Polly Trammell on the 1850 census. On the census they also had nine children living in the household.

The oldest child was Mahala Trammell. In about a ten year period between 1850 and 1860 Mahala married three times. The first was a person with the last name Lambert. Is it the Lambert that was killed by Van? Or related?

William changed his surname to his rightful paternal name, which most people take at birth. William had to wait about 25 years. There are letters between Jason Henderson Hunter and William as grown men, each recognizing each other as father and son.

Not that this has anything to do with, but Jason had another son, named William, born about 1849 and later, about 1870, another son named William.

I am only speculating, but I think probably his first legitimate son named William died early, maybe from the war. The second son he named William was named after his illegitimate son named William, because that was about the time they were communicating.

Something to Notice

Have you even been in a line for the window service at the Postal Service and
while you were in line did you hear over the intercom an announcement about somebody leaving their headlights on?

If so, after you heard the announcement did several workers from the back have reason to appear and maybe also a couple of supervisors.

If that has happened, or if it happens in the future look around at the people in line. What color car did they say left their headlights on? Blue? Red? White? If the color was, say white, look around and see if you see a lady standing in line with big boobs and a white revealing shirt on. Or if they said red, look for a lady in a red shirt with revealing boobs.

'Nuff said.

Memorial Day

This is the National Cemetery in Marietta, Ga. It is acres and acres of the bodies of young people who gave their lives in war time of between the War Between the States and present.

I would say that is the bulk. Also are other ex-miiitary people buried here who lived to be a ripe old age.

I think sometimes we as a nation don't appreciate what these young men gave up for our protection - the ultimate sacrifice: Their life, you can't donate more than that.

And the sad thing is that they sometimes they fought for what not what they believed in but what their leaders beleived in.

And their leaders appreciated them in a non-costly way, like applauding them, but when it comes down to whacking the budget, Veterans' Benefits are usually the first to get the ax.

Regardless of your politics, it seems to me you would have to admire someone willing to die for your freedom.

That is the bottom line, they think they are protecting your freedom, which the leaders may just have a hard-on for the downfall of a certain leader in another country, but the soldier's job is not to question, he took an oath to do what is demanded of him.

Shame on our leaders for putting him in harm's way when our freedom isn't an issue.


Yesterday, we painted all day and ended up getting more paint on ourselves than what was it was intended to go on the project

Really. Every place I looked on the three windows and the door on our deck there were places I missed. Today I will go over it again. And what I missed on the frames I didn't miss on my body. I had specks of white paint all over me.

Once, unknowingly, I dipped by watch in the paint. If the time frame was right the 3 Stooges could come and take notes on how to make a farce out of something like paintings.

Anna did better on the front door. But she was painting a darker color onto a lighter color primer, so it was easy for her to see what she missed.

She had to go back to Home Depot twice because we under-bought waht we needed. And it had to be her to go, only she could flash her military I.D. card, like a F.B.I. agent to get that 10% Memorial Day discount - my DD 214 is locked away in a safety deposit box.

Afterwards I cooked chicken thighs on the grill. This time out of pure laziness I did not cut off the skin - and all that melted fat dripping off the skin caused the flames to jump high licking at the meat. It gave the meat a tasty flavor that we have forgot about: charcoal fried fat.

Which now they say, is a cancer causer. Well, I could have skipped eating and smoked a pack of cigarettes.

Then we watched a movie I taped a week or so ago and haven't got around to it yet, "The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants." Which was pretty good. I cried off an on all the way through it. It is good that Anna fell asleep -my image was protected.

I'm a sucker for chick flicks.

Sunday, May 28, 2006

Sunday coming down

Yesterday evening we went out to eat Mexican food at a restaurant we haven't been to before. A coupon of buy one meal and get the second of equal value or less free. We are drawn like flies to a dead squirrel in the road to buy one and get one free.

It is a big restaurant. A lot of square feet. With many empty tables. There was another WASP family sitting next to us, and across the way was a family of ten celebrating a daughter's graduation. She had her cap and gown and was posing for family members with cameras, it looked like the reflections of a lightling storm in that corner. I think they were Spanish. In another corner was another big family of Mexicans with wandering kids near the table.

What am I trying to say? I think, maybe, if you want good authentic Mexican food go to where the Mexicans eat?

Maybe the above, and also, maybe, WASPs feel uncomfortable eating authentic Mexican food where real Mexicans eat. That may or may not be the case why the restaurant was almost empty.

I just can't figure out why a big Mexican restaurant was almost empty at the dinner hour when others are over flowing with people.

Just wondering, move along folks, nothing to see.

Then we went to Home Depot and bought some paint and brushes. Again, drawn by a special offer. Home Depot offered this weekend a special to Military personnel, 10% discount. Anna works for the DoD.

Today, on this Sunday, this day that most Christian religions set aside for a day of reat, we will be painting doors.

But I'm not complainig - I don't work on days that any religion has assigned as work days either.

George Kuykendall (1880-1960)

George married and had 5 kids. He is buried at a Baptist Church within 1.5 mile from where he was born.

Saturday, May 27, 2006

Concert in the Park

We went to a concert in the park in downtown Marietta yesterday evening.

The band, The Jesters, played two hours of dancing music, mostly of the oldies top 40, which most of the audience related to.

After we put our seats down a group of four came and sit by us. The man of the group was aggressive, loud, obnoxious, imposing, and self centered.

Wait that was me, I was looking in a mirror!

Wait, seriously folks! This guy was terrible. We sit along the edge of a narrow walk in the park. The ass-hole put his cooler in front of him and propped his big ugly bare feet on his cooler, making less room for people to walk and get by. Up to him the foot traffic flowed fairly easy, then he created a bottle neck effect. Inconsiderate bastard. I think he wanted the negative attention, after all, any attention is better than no attention at all.

He would make wise-ass comments to many of the people that walked by, which I thought was rude.

He pulled out a stinky pipe and smoked it. I think the felt that made him look wise. He doesn't know how close he came to having to digesting that pipe.

Another man, who apparently was alone, he had on dirty clothes, just looked unkempt, and was staggering drunk - he leaned over the fountain pool and fell in. I think he was probably homeless and resented all well-to-do yuppies around him - after all, two was probably sitting on a bench that is his bed.

When he fell into the water, he jumped out and dripping with water pranced down the walk with one arm bent with elbow pointing out, he in an effeminate way, would say to each group, "How ya'll doin'? - in a sarcastic musically voice. I think he was poking fun of either the yuppies he knew he was surrounded by or the gays he thought he was surrounded by. Afterall, people have to have their own personal jokes to keep their sanity - as he well demonstrated.

I enjoy watching the people walk by.

And even more so, if they have a dog on a leash. But, I feel for the dogs there - that loud music must surely make them miserable.

And of course, all those female bare legs is nice. And this year the cleavage line is daringly lower, which is an added bonus.

Friday, May 26, 2006

Ear Pulled?

This is my mother's side of the family - Mrs. John Petty, Jim, and Ethel Petty. My mother was probably named after this Ethel Petty.

I don't know, but just by the expressions it looks to me like Mrs. Petty has just pinched Jim Petty's ear.


This is a first day of a ten day spree of Anna being off work. She has a long list of things we need to do. I don't think we can possibly get it all done.

But we will see, I could be wrong.

Today we need to go to one of her doctor's office and I forgot all the details in between, but by 6:30 tonight we should be setting up our folding chairs at a free concert in downtown Marietta. The Jesters is the name of the band and variety is listed to what they play.

Yesterday, while finishing the details in pressuring washing the house the bottom of my pressure washer fell off. The shaft part that turns to give the water pressure just fell off. It was the second time I used it since my neighbor fixed it. He went around to a variety of small engine grave yards and found all the parts he needed, except one, which he hand-made.

Now he or any other mechanic can back stroke to figure out what he did and what parts he put where.

I will probably have to buy a new pressure washer for about $400, where if I took it to a repair shop who knew what they were doing I could probably pay about $50 and it would run. Now, I am hiding the whole thing from my neighbor, before he sees it broken.

A few years ago he wanted to adjust the idle on my Snapper riding lawnmower and before it was over, the only way to start it was to hot wire it by using the metal part of a screw driver to touch two points, one on the battery and a nut holding a wire.... I melted two screw drivers and finally said this is too much, so I gave my neighbor the lawnmower and I bought a new lawnmower - NEW! My neighbor had no excuse to do anything any adjustments or repairs to it...... yet.

Enjoy your Friday.

Jones Family Reunion 1929

Noticed how the men are lined up on one side and the women liked up on the other? That reminds me of old time religions, which, since this is the old times, probably had an influence.

Back then in the Methodist and maybe the Baptist, the different genders would sit on opposite sides of the church, and even had different doors to enter and leave.

That looks like it would be hard to court, if that was your purpose to attend church. And forget about holding hands.

If you look at the picture in detail you can easily see that I am wrong about the sexes being segragated. Well, yes, but the exceptions are very old people and very young people - the young girl, was nine year old in that picture, my future mother-in-law.

Wednesday, May 24, 2006

No Secret To The Grave Now

The man in the picture is my Uncle Bus again. The picture is deceiving if you think Bus is a lady's man.

Not saying he wasn't a lady's man, but this picture does not offer that kind of proof.

His sister Bee is the one looking at him.

The other three girls are first cousins.

One of the three girls, Lois Hunter, which I am still trying to pick out, lived to be 102 years old.

When Lois was about 85 years old she called me up screaming and chewed me out. She said I was telling family secrets that she had planned on taking to the grave with her.

In my genealogy research I found out my great grandfather, which was Lois's grandfather, was born a bastard and killed killed a man and was wanted for murder and changed his name while on the run.

Many years later, William's son William Jason died as a young man, leaving a wife and two young toddler daughters. William and Emeline took them in. One of the daughters were Lois. Her grandfather was the only father Lois knew.

She had vowed to herself to protect his good name and reputation.

I, on the other hand, made no such vows, and was excited about all the information I found and made a printout and mailed to the relatives that I thought would be interested, which included Lois.

I messed that plan up, didn't I?

Wednesday Is Rising

Today I hope to water pressure our carport, deck, and the non-brick parts of the house.

I dread doing this because I like doing things like this alone. I have one neighbor, in his mid-80s who thinks he is some kind of handy man and will be on hand to give me advice and some times gets all bristled up if I don’t follow his advice.

And I am in for it if the water pressure machine doesn’t start immediately. He will want to take it apart to find the problem. It has got to the point that I start my lawnmowers, the blower, and the weed eater, on the side of the house opposite his house…. One hint of engine trouble and he comes running – and usually does more to damage the engine than the other way around.

Yesterday I went to a local bike shop and test rode a Trek 7100 bike. I really enjoyed it. It is kind of costly but will probably end up purchasing it. It seems to make biking so much smoother. Trek is the same kind of bike the Marietta Police use in the downtown area. Who knows when I might need to have something equal or better to out run them.

Then, after I test rode a bike I picked up my son’s dog at the kennel and carried her to her master’s house. The mutt, Belle, is usually very rebellious, but this time she was very gentle, sat in the front seat with me and allowed me to pet her, which usually she doesn’t. One time, when I stopped petting to use both hands on the steering wheel to go around a curve, and when I put my hand back down, she rooted it like to ask for more petting.

Maybe at the kennel some other dogs taught her a human fact of life, you get what you want with more with honey than with vinegar.

Then in the evening we all converged on Ippotilo’s Italian Restaurant to celebrate my other son’s birthday. I ordered sausage and peppers. It was nice and spicy, just like I like – but too much. In fact, everybody had too much, all six of us asked for take home containers.

Before I wash the house today I need to go to Krogers Grocery store and get my 5% senior discount. Today they have Cokes on sale.

I never thought about sales in my youth.

Youth Is Wasted On the Young

A clever worded quote a friend emailed me yesterday:

“Youth is wasted on the young”.

I disagree.

I think youth is right where it should be, with the young. When you gain age and experience you learn things for self-preservation. You take your medicine and you don’t skid your body on pavement with shorts on. It might hurt you, you learned the hard way.

But that is partly the fun of youth - not using your common sense and taking a few chances. And most the time the fun outweighs the pain.

It comes down to we, the aged, are afraid we might get hurt…. What fun is youth with that attitude?

Edgar Bell & family

This some of Anna's distant kin-folks. If you look at this site often all three have had their pictures on here before.

The kid, Charles Loy was the kid with the wagon and goat.

The father Edgar lived 1884-1932 living only 47 years and the mother Sophis lived 1886 - 1965, which is 78 years. Little Charles Loy lived 1909-1964, 54 years.

I didn't notice until I put this down here but Sophie outlived her son by one year.

Tuesday, May 23, 2006

Adam Hunter about an hour ago

Adam's Birthday

Today, my youngest son Adam turns 27 years old. If you are wondering what to give him, he already has a house, a dog, and all the electronic gadgets one could possibly want. Do you have a spare daughter or sister? I’ll supply the bow.

Betsy Kuykendall

This is Elizabeth "Betsy" Kukendall and her husband, a chap with the last name Chapman.

I don't have much on her/them. She was born in 1844, and the brother of James E. Kuykendall (Picture of he and his wife Frances Tyson viewed earlier) and married Mr. Chapman and they moved to Alabama where they had a store. This picture of them is standing in front of that store.

I don't know if you can see it well or not but in front of the window to your left is a transparent blur. Is it a person that was there for a short time in the photograph that had its lens opened a long time with a small aparture for the photograph or is it a ghost?

Sunday, May 21, 2006


This use to be The First National Bank building in Marietta. It is where farmers would come in do their business on Saturdays where sometimes a handshake is all the collateral the bank needed. Then a wealthy man, from Jacksonville, Florida, who owned controlling interest in a banking take-over company came in, bought out the controlling interest, brought his own executives in and more or less ran away the old bankers there, like my sister who had been there 30 years.

What they didn't realize, Marietta still had a small town mentality. The "old money" shifted their money from the First National to their friends who had just left the bank and started their own bank.

The First National Bank didn't last long, it has been sold and resold, and sort of dissolved into many little small banks. Now, the main occupant of the big marble First National Bank building is Subway Sandwiches. And upstairs is the building owner's son law office.

I will call the Building owner Herb. Between Herb and his son Phil, they own over half the buildings on the Square in downtown Marietta. They also own leased land on the mail streets flowing into downtown. They are worth millions.

Herb is now about 80 + years old. He is tall and lean. I have seen him action many times. He is a merchant at heart. He owns a men's clothing store downtown. His daughter owns a women's clothing store also downtown. Wait. The daughter did own a women's clothing store, now she owns a uniform shop. I watched him line up his inventory folded nice on shelves, when doing that sort of thing he looks very much at home with himself.

Herb does not have prices on anything. When someone asks him how much an item is, or a coat is he doesn't hardly bother looking at the product. Instead, he looks at the customer, sizes him up to about what he thinks he is willing to pay and tell him that is the price. It must work for him.

Once we took our two sons to the Chattanooga Train Museum. There we bought them each a gray with black stripes railroad conductor's hat. The kind you have seen Donald Duck and Walt Disney wear. After we got home, I decided I wanted on too. I called Herb's store and asked him did he have the railroad hats, gray with black stripes. He said he did and I said how much. He said $3.99 each. That sounded reasonable, so after work a couple days later I went by and I asked his wife, Mrs. Herb about the hats and she led me to them. I picked out one and told her I would take it.

Mrs. Herb, turned around and said to Mr. Herb, "Mr. _________, how much are these hats?" Mr. Herb, without looking at the cap, but looking at me said, "$2.99."

Hah! I got him for a dollar! He told me $3.99 over the phone. But after looking at me, he said $2.99... I am not sure that is a complement.

Another time for Christmas I received an overcoat that was too big for me. I was told by the giver it came from Herb's store so I returned it, along with the sales slip. Herb said he would gladly give me in merchandise what the coat was worth.

It was interesting to watch him. He was pulling down shirts, ties, belts, pants, gloves, and I don't know what all, trying to sell me on the items in a honest way. He was completely focused on making an even swap. He wanted to make sure I was happy and had me try on trousers and all. After all his work and combinations of taking some things back he was short twenty-five cents.

Now, there is a reason self-made millionairs are millionaires. Herb is a good example. He wasn't about to let a quarter leave that cash register. He opened up his cash register and lifted the change drawer, reached underneath and handed me a McDonald's coupon for 25 cents off of my next McDonald's visit. He also told me I had to use it before the expiration date or they might not accept it.

How's that for honesty?

I know Herb has operated his men's clothing store out of at least three locations. Now I don't think he has a store. Are the clothing merchandise in storage someplace on standy waiting for another store to close?

One evening we downtown at a concert and stopped by an ice cream shop for a treat. The store was in one of Herb's buildings. Herb's wife came in, and she was no the humble sales clerk I was used to seeing her as... she was an aggressive person on a mission. She walked up to the counter and the manger gave her a big fat number ten envelope.

Does she collect the rent the same way the gansters collect protection money? No receipts, no paper work... hmmm.

Not long ago I went on a walk in the downtown area for my exercise after I went to the doctor. Herb and his little granchild, or great grandchild was down by the tracks looking at the building.

In a day or so, his son Phil announced he is building a ten story apartment building with stores on the first two levels... and guess where. Exactly where I saw Herb stand with his grandson. It is their property, and property rights are rights, but it irks me that they are choosing the place for the building in an area that will block off the view of Kennesaw Mountain from the park in the middle of town and also they will have to disturb or block some historical grain and cotton storage bins on the edge of the railroad tracks that have been there before the Civil War.

A week or so later Anna was in Wal-Mart and she was to return something and was in line. I am nto good at returning stuff so Anna does that kind of stuff most of the time. I noticed the person ahead of her line was Herb and his grandson.

I wonder, with Herb's retail marketing experience and expertise, what he thought of the big huge super store. What he would have done differently, in displaying the pants or the shirts in season?

I walked over to Anna and whispered in her ear that Herb was in front of her. As I walked off I glanced back and saw him smiling. He probably heard me and appreciated the notoriety.

I was also curious to see what he was carrying back and the reason. I'm sure he has heard all the excuses. I wonder if he was expecting to get partly of his refund back in McDonald coupons?

Closing Out The Weekend

We had a productive weekend, if you count Friday. I put my mother-in-law a new water filter in her frig and she and Anna researched and bargained and bought a new gas clothes dryer while I eyed the salesperson and decided it was a girl in men's clothing.

Also Friday we bought some flowers to plant, and sod to lay.

Saturday Anna planted the colorful flowers, petunias, I think, and dusty miller, and two or three others things in our huge pot/barrel looking thing. And I laid the sod. I carefully planned that I thought I would need six sections. I was thinking I would have almost a half section left over, but for a while I was thinking I might have to go back and buy another section, but I ended up with a small 3"x5" piece left over. Not bad for me.

Our son flew to Boston this morning to be on a one day cruise with a brand new ship that never has made a voyage yet. He will have a cabin on it overnight, that and food, and all will be free. It is work for him. He and his team will have to take some shots and later add stuff like music and probably some more stuff to make a commercial. They went aboard today at noon. They will return tomorrow morning.

Then he will tour Boston. He is always reading a biography of a founding father, so he wants to spend a day in Boston taking a good historical tour.

Then, there is some kind of playoff tomorrow night with the Redsox. He wants to go to the field and pay an outlandish illegal scapel price for a ticket.

He will still be in Boston when my youngest son Adam turns 27 Tuesday. With the exception of the oldest, we will all meet at a restaurant and celebrate, with dinner, and a smuggled in giant Happy Birthday cookie.

This morning while watering the flowers and the sod with my water hose I was pulling the hose by the nozzle up to where th sod is and WHAM! I was going backwards, trying to guide the hose when my right foot stepped over the the cover of the hole our water meter is in. The cover was broken from some bright constructions workers who were building a new subdivision last summer down the street broke it trying to cut off all our water on the street for a short time. The fall today scraped my ankle, which caused blood to ooze through my sock. And it looks like it is probably bruised. But I'll live.

And life goes on.

John & Adeline Woody Petty

This is a distant relative, John Franklin Petty (1856-?) and his wife Adeline Woody (1859-1955). I think one look at them and you know they lived off the land. John has muscles in that neck from a lot of lifting and straining.

After the married they moved to Wyoming and had ten children.

In the book "PROGRESSIVE MEN OF WYOMING": They moved to Sand Creek, Laromie County, Wyoming in 1887. Later owning a farm on the Wheatland Flats.

Saturday, May 20, 2006

The Cards of Life

In the spring of 1975 Anna was pregnant with our first born son, Rocky. One weekend we went to the Atlanta Dogwood Festival, which is booth after booth of arts and crafts.

There was one display of some kind of the things about the same size and as eggs. Out of each one, was a little carved human baby prying him/her out of the cracked egg. I think each one was home made. Anna really liked a certain one and I was going to buy it for her but the one she wanted was reserved for someone else who already paid for it.

The lady told me she also sold them at Tuxedo Pharmacy in the Buckhead section of Atlanta. And if I came there Monday morning I could buy one there. OK.

While looking at the arts and crafts I noticed a strange woman standing at a distance smiling at us. Why? I thought I would pretend to be looking at some art near where she was standing so I edged myself over to get a closer look at her and she wasn’t there. Then, about five minutes in another section of the festival there she was again, looking at us smiling. Again, I pretended to be studying a good photo shot with my camera and backed up to where she was. Only thing is, again she slipped away.

So much for that. I just thought it was mysterious and strange.

The next Monday morning after I got off work at the Post Office in Atlanta I drove to Tuxedo Pharmacy in Buckhead and they did have the little egg/baby that Anna liked so I purchased one and went home to hide it. I gave it to her later on Mother’s Day.

A day later, Tuesday morning I was driving on my way home from work and I was going through a busy intersection , going under the green light and WHAM!!! A pickup truck rammed my car in the side at full force. It ran the red light part of the same traffic lifht. It knocked the car out of the intersection and onto the edge of a McDonald’s parking lot. The car, a Gremlin, was turned over on its side.

I did not have my seat belt on. The driver’s side of the car was caved in. If I had my seat belt on, I would have been crushed, but luckily the force knocked me on the other side of the car.

The man that hit me also didn’t have his seatbelt on. He went through the window which was the caused of his death a few hours later.

There is an argument here for and against seatbelts in the same wreck.

I remember being in a strange awkward position on the shotgun side of the car, turned over, glass over me, blood oozing out of glass cuts that showered me, and Bob Dylan’s “Blood On The Track” was playing on the car radio.

I found out later the man who went through the windshield lived nearby. He was an aged man, about 65. He was driving to his drugstore to get a prescription refilled. It is believed he fell unconscious while driving, so probably never knew about the accident.

With “Blood On the Track” playing I was pinned down but managed to pull a cigarette out of my breast pocket and light it. What I didn’t know, gasoline was pouring out of thecar onto the ground.

People were gathered around and I heard sirens getting louder. Before I had a chance to take over two good inhales on my cigarette a paramedic reached in and grabbed the cigarette out of mouth.

As they got me out of the crushed vehicle and loaded me onto a stretcher I got a lecture on smoking near an overturned car. I also received a lecture on smoking period – “Smoking can kill you.” one said as they loaded me into the ambulance.

We went to the hospital. Somehow I told somebody to call Anna at work. She and a couple of co-workers arrived shortly after I arrived.

I was x-rayed and looked over and the glass picked out of my hair. Aside from a few scrapes that was solved with bandages the doctors declared I could go home. I had a painful headace. There was some kind of mix-up about transportation, I forgot the details.

When Anna came to the hospital she was too nervous to drive, so a co-worker carried her. Then she had to get back to work and for some reason which I don’t remember I could not be released for about one or two hours.

We called Marie, my mother-in-law to come and pick me up and carry me home.

They wheeled me in a wheelchair to a waiting room and told me to wait for my mother-in-law there. They said that is where she would drive up to, under that drive through awning. OK.

I was sitting there. An older lady was also sitting in a wheelchair near me. Over, behind a round pillar was a tall lanky teenager with long hair, sitting, looking bored.

The older lady asked me was I waiting on someone. I said, “Yes, I am, somebody is suppose to come and pick me up.” She hollered over to the teenage boy, I forgot how she called him, but she said something to get his attention, then once he looked up she said, “Is this the person you are waiting for?”

I said, “No, no. I am waiting for my mother-in-law, it will take her a while, she is coming from north Cobb, between Woodstock and Kennesaw.”

The teenager got and stretched and walked over to be attentive to our conversation because he probably wasn’t sure it concerned him or not.

The older lady went on to explain why she got the boy’s attention was that she didn’t know I was waiting on a female and she was thinking I might be waiting on him, but because of the big pillar hiding us from each other we might not have know we were in the same room.”

That made sense to me. I have seen many comedy of errors that the right hand did not know what the left hand was doing.

The tall teenager walked behind her then folded his arms, like one might do to imitate a bird and started to pretend to peck her head. It reminded me of a big bird standing over her pecking her on the top of her head.. I don’t remember if Big Bird was known yet or not, but if so, that is what he looked like. Why was he doing this? Acting crazy behind that old lady’s back. Was he on drugs?

I don’t know why he did it, but it got me trying to swallow my giggles. I was probably high on some sort of pain medicine.

I took off from work ten days or so. I had a pounding headache. The other man’s insurance company gave us book value for my Gremlin and paid me a small amount for my pain and suffering and reimbursed monetarily what sick leave I used.

Still happy with American cars, we bought an orange Pacer that looked something like a big pumpkin.

Just after I returned to work I put my motorcycle up for sale. I had a Honda CL350. It was the type of motorcycle that was good for road or off-the-road. A man came and was really impressed with the Honda and complemented me for taking a such good care of it. I was asking $600.00. He didn’t try to talk me down. He wrote out a check and told me would I please wait until Friday to cash it until Friday, and if I didn’t mind he would predate the check for Friday. No problem, I told him.

The check bounced. I went to his house and the house was empty. He and his family moved. I went to the Post Office and paid a fee for them to look up the man’s forwarding address and he did not turn in one. He and his family just skipped out. I went to the local school and talked to the kid’s teachers and she said the boy told his classmates they were moving to some town in Oklahoma.

I went to the County D.A. office and talked to an assistant about how would I go about pressing charges against the man for giving me a rubber check and riding off in the sunset.

The assistant D.A. is now a prominent lawyer and also owns two barbecue places in town – his barbecue is the North Carolina type, delicious! He told me that when I accepted the predated check from him I was accepting his credit, with risks that come with such. The act of accepting his credit made it a “non-criminal matter”. Credit problems is a civil matter.

I tell these two incidences of bad things happening to me because I wonder if it was something the gods worked out, a kind of “give and take” or maybe a Karma, of a plus causing a negative to back down? Or put it this way, I suffered a bit, to prevent anything negative happening during the birth of my son. He was born healthy and wise.

And, if you recall the smiling dame at the Dogwood Arts Festival…. Was she someone dealing out the cards of life?

It is just a thought.

But if that was the case, what did the guy that went through the windshield get?

Speaking of Car... Carr, whatever

Speaking of old cars and Uncle Will. Here is his sister, Octavia "Tade" with her real old car.... and incidentally, that is her married name Carr.

Records show she married E.G. Carr. When I was a preteen I used use her big old house as a pickup point for either my sister or father. She lived only a block from Acworth Beach, which was a fun place to go and hangout.

Her husband died before I met him and they had no children. I remember her as an old snoot who was very judgmental but also very accommodating.

Friday, May 19, 2006

Another Friday

Today as most Fridays, Anna was off and we gallivanted all day. Today we went to Pike Nursery and focused on buying various colorful flowers for two big pots in the front.

At Pike Nursery I was somewhat amazed at the help. There were three or four women with Pike Uniform Shirts on and khaki shorts. These women had tanned muscular shapely legs.

They all had kind gentle faces with some miles. I bet all of them were grandmothers. They knew their plants and were eager to share their knowledge. And, they were very energetic. They struck me as some kind of brigade.

I think if they kept the same clothes on and put on a mask, so I wouldn't see their faces and one of them pointed at me and said, "Get him!" I would do my best to out run them, because I would fear for my life.

After we bought flowers and 6 rectangles of sod and had lunch we stopped my mother-in-law's because she bought a water filter for her refrigerator and couldn't figure how to install it. So, I did it with no problem. I even had it in before she found the directions on how to do put in the water filter.

Then she told us her gas clothes dryer was out of order. She is very organized and puled out the file of al the repairs she had done to it. It all added up to over what a new dryer would cost. The biggest thing that seemed to go wrong with it in the past is the igniter would have to be replaced. So, she was tired of throwing good money after bad, so to speak.

So, we left my truck full of flowers in the back at her house and took her in her hoggish Lincoln to Brandsmart. In just an hour of so we had her a new G.E. gas dryer picked out and they will deliver and install it Monday or Tuesday. We were telling her she should get electric then you wouldn't have to worry about the igniter mechanism. But, as it turned out, to get an electric dryer she would have to have a plug-in rewired in the basement to accommodate a three or four prong socket heavy duty electric plug. So, a gas dryer it will be.

My biggest question I kept to myself was our sales person a man or a woman. I am pretty sure it was a woman that like to dress like a man.

So, when we got back she mentioned she had a washing machine full of wet clothes to hang on her clothes line in the basement. Anna I went down and hung up the clothes. As we were hanging up the clothes, Anna said, "With a new dryer Mom will think she is in high cotton." And the same time she said that, I was hanging my mother-in-law cotton drawers on the line.

All's well that ends well.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Uncle Will, Many Years Later

This is a picture of the same guy posing in the car below. I took the picture shortly before he died in 1979.

Uncle Will had a reputation for being frugal, well, I think "cheap" would describe him better.

One summer when my father was a teenager he was looking for a summer job. Uncle Will offered him a job working on his farm. They agreed on a salary, and my Daddy worked from before sunrise to after sunset six days a week milking cows, feeding chickens, hoeing, plowing, and anything that had to be done. At the end of the week Uncle Will asked my father would he rather be paid weekly or for him to keep it tallied up and pay it all to him at one time at the end. He hinted if he waited until the end of the summer he would have a big pile of money. Daddy did some rough calculations and said he would take it all at one time at the end of the summer, then he would have enough saved that he might be able to buy a car. So, he worked his tail off that summer. When it came the final day, he went to Uncle Will and asked him for the money. Uncle Will said, "Well Ed, I hate to tell you this, but with all these people around us losing their land to the banks, I have been taking all my money and buying up foreclosed properties. I don't have any money to pay you."

Daddy was so mad he walked all the way home, which is about 12 or 15 miles.

An uncle of mine (Daddy's brother), told me one time he was up visiting his kin folks in that area and saw Uncle Will out by the road at home-made stand selling apples. My uncle drove up, got out of the car, and looked at the apples and asked how much he was he selling the apples for. Uncle Will told him the price and he added, "I'll sell you the same price I will sell anybody else, I'm not giving discounts to kin folks!"

One time my grandmother and my grandfather were having a hard time making ends meet, having ten children to feed and all. My grandmother went to her brothers Uncle Will and Uncle Ed to see if they could lend them money to get buy. They helped. They gave her money, as soon as she signed away her share of the land their parents left them. It would be worth millions.

Uncle Will was the last of his generation left, and when I got into family researching I thought I would visit him and ask him questions about all his kin. I visited him abut five times and carried a tape recorder each time. Of all his siblings and his wife, and two kids, he couldn't recollect some of them on some days, or seem to side step the questions about them and while talking in a rambling fashion he would always get back to talking about his favorite mule and how funny it was. The mule was very picky and selective how it was to work, if you didn't do it a certain way, it would just stop and would not move. He remembered who he bought it from, and remembered who he sold it to and the mule refused to work for the new owner, which made Will look right proud, but that owner sold it to someone else, Will told their name, and the mule did OK then.. He thought it was funny the mule would fart in his face when he was behind it guiding a hand plow.

I would not be surprised if in his little house some place is a framed picture of him and that mule together that he looks at often and maybe cries.

I did not give the mule a gender. Aren't mules hybrid? A cross between a donkey and horse?

All around the unpainted shack Will sat in all day was a huge subdivision named with his name on it. In the day time he prefer to stay in his shack that he lived in most his life. In the evening his daughter would come by and get him and carry him back to her house. But, I can imagine people riding by thinking that poor old pauper in that shack, not knowing he could buy and sell them on a whim if he wanted to.

I was told on his death bed in the hosptial he was eaten up with cancer in terrible pain. The medical staff offered to ease the pain with drugs and he asked how much did it cost and when they told the cost him he refused, preferring to die with the pain. I wonder why he didn't consider medicare?

Speaking of Car Props...

This is my great uncle Will. It looks like he was into sitting in a car prop and having is picture professionally taken.

Knowing his personal history, I am surprised he parted with the money.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

What Now?

For some reason every blog this afternoon I had to re-identify myself. I had to tell the system my password and my user's name. Which, in my state of mind, in each case I had to type it a bunch of times in different combinations before I would finally get it right.

And then, I came here and my own creating nest wanted me to identify myself.

I know I am the type of person that just blends in and is easily forgotten, but remember this BLOG, or whatever you call yourself, you might forget me but I won't forget you!! (shaking my fist)

Navy - VIII

I haven’t made another installment in my Navy career lately.

In the last episode I and some Navy friends visited my uncle in Carmel, New York, home of Reader’s Digest. Their dog almost got ran over by a speeding car but his tail was chopped off. I don’t recall leaving a cliff hanger.

Once a week the officer of each unit was to give us an encouraging pep talk. A good talk by your officer is good morale was the belief. One week our officer, a Lieutenant, Mr. Edwards, head of the personnel office gave a talk on how enlisted men, when they are out of the service should treat officers, also out of the service. There was a lot of B.S. but the bottom line was that ex-enlisted men should treat ex-officers with respect, the same as when you were in the service.

I did not agree. I said both should treat each other with respect, until either one does something to betray that respect.

He disagreed. He said “An officer’s respect was a “given”, because an officer is always a commissioned officer, if he is on the payroll or not.”

“But what if he robs a bank? I asked. If I was the arresting policeman, and was enlisted, do I treat him with respect?” I asked.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mr. Edwards said.

I said, “What if I see an ex-officer passed out drunk and wallowing in his own vomit do I try to help him, but by doing so, it would show that I recognize his present state, which is unbecoming and officer.”

“There you go,” Mr. Edwards said, “a real officer wouldn’t find himself in that situation.”

“I have seen officers in that situation.” I said.

“He wasn’t a real officer, not deep down, if he did something like that.”

“How are we to know when we see an ex-officer and we are ex-listed whether deep down he was an officer in his heart?”

“Well, you treat him with automatic respect.”

“And he doesn’t have to treat us with automatic respect?…. What if I am his boss in the civilian world?”

OK, lets get back to work!

The next day I and my friend Don was transferred out of the Personnel Office to I & E (Information and Education).
In Don’s case, it was guilt-by-association. He kept giving me signals to shut the hell up. He already had almost ten years of brown nosing at the Chicago Tribune to know when to fold.

The I & E Office was a small staffed office. It’s purpose was to encourage reenlistment and had books available to check out for advancement in one’s particular rate. One person was leaving and two of us took his place.

Now, with us added, the had us two, Ron (a second class) from Minneapolis (Sam’s cube mate), and the division officer.

The division officer was a little short depressed intimidated man we will Kenny. How can a runt like that get respect when his favorite subject was how inferior he was to most of the human male specie? Kenny didn’t hang out in the officer’s lounge much. He was not the kind to mix well with other officers – he was afraid they might ask him something.

Kenny had a very simple signature. It had no personality at all. It was probably text book right, with the right curves in each letter, he was even afraid to have his own identity in his signature.

Back then, officers’ social abilities and even their wives social adaptation were a big influence on promotion decisions. One of our friends slipped and looked at Kenny’s evaluation. His wife got as bad marks as her husband. He wasn’t around long. He was transferred out.

One night at Murphy’s Bar just north of the Sea Side Heights Beach, Don was on the prowl trying to pick up some girls and he was pretending to be an officer, thinking that would be a better chick magnet. I wasn’t there, I probably had duty that night. He was telling some girls he was a Helicopter Pilot and another guy walked up and got in on the conversation and said that was a coincidence because he was a helicopter pilot too. And he called his friend over and he too was a helicopter pilot. Through the evening it came out they both were officers, due to check in at a helicopter squadron HU-4 in the morning.

To Don the gig was up. He called one of them aside and confessed to them that he wasn’t really an officer, he was just trying to pick up some women. The guy got a big kick out of that.

Not only did he and his friend check in HU-4 the next morning, but he was assigned to be our new division officer, over the I&E Office. He and his friend reminds me of the Smothers Brothers, small in statue, witty, ant not very reverend towards authority.

Our division officer would take us on helicopter rides. He had to fly something like 50 hours a month to keep his status in the pilots pecking order. He would take us the Bell Helicopters, one at a time, one on one day and the other one the next day. The Earth scape was beautiful up there, the curvature of the earth, and so high up you could see the ocean.

We told him about a nudist colony we read about at Cape May, New Jersey, which wasn’t far from Atlantic City. We each got a birds eye view of that.

He also gave us a thrill and demonstrated auto-rotation. At a high altitude he would turn off the engines and we would fall. Which was a thrill, watching the earth get closer and closer at a high rate of speed, then whamo! The whole time you are falling the propellers are forced by the air you are tearing through to turn…. The more you go the harder the propeller turns, then it starts auto-rotating. It builds up enough to become a force, where the helicopter will land softly. Of course, you have to know how to guide it so it will do the right thing.

A game developed with this division officer. When our commanding officer would come in the room whoever would see him first is to holler, “Attention on Deck!” and I never knew him to keep us that way, he would say “Carry on.” Before the sentence was even out good. He would usually put his hat with its scrambled eggs on the hat section of the coat rack and go back and talk to our division officer. One of us would slip up to the his hat and put it on. We would be in the sight of our division officer, but the CO would not see us, he would be facing him. Which ever was wearing the hat would cross his arms to look very stern and you could see a flicker in our division officer’s eyes saying, “You fools!” We never got caught. We were good.

Off hand I cannot remember that officer’s name, but he earned my respect.

Christmas season was upon us. Most of my friends went home. I stayed. I had the office to myself for over a week. It seems nothing is draining as being away from home for a long duration and you hear Christmas music.

Obie invited me over to their house for Christmas. The last time I was there was the night of the spaghetti fight. Before the night was over Lucy was as drunk as the last time, and their daughter still looking sweet and innocent.

By this time our a new man came to our squadron. He name was Dick. You have seen him on NBC News. He was the new journalist for the squadron. He liked jazz and so did I, he also introduced me to The Realist magazine edited and published by Paul Krassner. We hit it off pretty good. He and his wife Nancy also invited me to have dinner with them during the Christmas season. Before he came in the Navy he was a pager for NBC. And after that he was radio news announcer in Harrisburg, Pa. After he got out of the Navy he went back to his job at Harrisburg, and later got a promotion to Washington DC.

Don came back before New Years Eve and we all went out hitting bars in the Lakehurst and Toms River area. We heard that all the neighborhood bars would have free food. We were game.

I only have one memory of that night. We ran into Lucy, Obie’s wife. Obie had duty that night and she was getting drunk, or I think she was already drunk, with her female friends that was at the spaghetti fight, one that night was intended to be my dinner date. Neither one acted as if we have met before, and I don’t think Lucy even remembered it. She introduced us like it was the first time.

Lucy was complaining about a bar on the main street of Lakehurst told her to leave, she had had enough. “Alcohol or food? I thought. So, we went back to the bar, she figured it would be better if a number of us went in together. The bartender called her name and pointed to the door. She said, “You don’t tell a fucking lady she can’t sit down!” And with that she picked up a ball off the pool table and threw it hard at the window, which broke.

We left. And 1963 was closed out.

What's Good For the Goose...

I watched The Today Show this morning while walking on the treadmill. The major players of "The Da Vinci Code" movie, such as Ron Howard, Tom Hanks, etc, were there in a round table discussion. I read the Dan Brown book and also his other book "Angels & Demons". I thought both books were very good, educational, and both good thrillers.

At the round table discussion about the upcoming movie it was mentioned more than once that some Christian organizations are requesting a disclaimer to be at the beginning of the movie.

I don't remember any group seeking a disclaimer for Mel Gibson's movie "The Passion of Jesus". I must admit I have not seen "Passions" and have no intention of seeing it. But if any of the cast of thousands in that movie did a body movement of facial expression that wasn't described as so in the Bible, then I think a disclaimer is in order.

Jones Men In a Car

Here are a bunch of Anna's men relatives of Jones brothers and a cousin in a prop car in a studio.

A car, as a prop, is something you don't see in portrait studios these days.

I think the closest of anything like that is at the mall they have a studio with a Haley Davidson chopper "Hawg" and I think they furnish the black leather jackets and outlandish road gear as well, like a helmet with horns, etc.

Also in their window is a picture of a child, about three years old, on a little bitty Harley chopper, and the kid is wearing black leather goods like he is a regular Easy Rider.

Tuesday, May 16, 2006

Bus, Zelma,& Jerry

These two pictures are of my late Uncle Bus, his late wife Zelma, and their late son Jerry.

Jerry was born June 1941. I was born July 1941. Jerry was closest to my age than any of my cousins. They lived in Douglasville, Ga. At family get-togethers it was expected Jerry and I to play with each other. Only thing is to mix Jerry and I together was like trying to mix oil and water.

Jerry was not very adventurous. He preferred to stay within eyesight of his parents (or maybe it was them with that preference) and he had a fearful way about him. He scratched himself he would cry as if he was going to bleed to death. On the other hand, I preferred to be out of view of my parents because I knew I could get away with more. I loved to climb trees. Jerry wouldn't dare climb a tree unless his parents were there to help him.... the list goes on.

In the high school I attended I found myself in the principals office explaining myself many times. I graduated by the skin of my teeth. Jerry graduated with honors.

Jerry went to Citadel College in Charleston. I worked and went to an extension of The University of Georgia, and 15 years later went to Kennesaw College.

Jerry went into the Air Force as an officer and became a F-105 pilot and was shot down in Vietnam. He did not survive the crash.

I on the other hand went into the Navy and spent most my nights drinking and raising hell, and I am still alive.

Which gave Bus and Zelma profound thoughts about me. I am not sure what kind of profound thougts, but I could tell they doubled focused every time they would see me at family reunions and funerals. And they always pumped me full of questions about my love life and career before I was married and after I married about our boys.

Then strangely, after my father died, every time I ran into them Bus would give me fatherly advice... stern-type of advice, "You need to lose a few pounds don't you Eddie?" or "I think you could stand to put on a couple of pounds Eddie, I hardly recognized you."

Was I a stand-in for Jerry?

Monday, May 15, 2006

Monday Morning Coffee

Good Morning.

Many people at work and on the phone this morning will tell about their Mother's Day experience. So, let me be part of that the mass.

We celebrated Mother's Day at Vincent's Italian Restaurant. We picked up Marie, Anna's mother, and met our two sons, and my two sisters there. The food was good and Italian with Italian music playing in the background.

The table next two ours was a Marietta Policeman in his uniform, with his wife and either his parents or his in-laws. I said I this reminds me too much of the Godfather. I hope nobody excuses himself and goes to the men's restroom - maybe we should ask for another table, nearer the window.

Then, after lunch and the boys gave their mother day presents to their mother and grandmother, we took Marie home and I fixed her 4 prong walking stick. A rubber tip of one of the prongs was wearing out, because Marie puts more pressure on that particular prong each time. So, I swapped it with the one with less wear. Here, zoom in on my face with me tapping the side of my temple with my finger.

After that we went home and Anna packed and got ready for her trip. This morning, about now, she is flying out of the Atlanta Airport going to Moline, Illinois, and her final destination, is Rock Island, Illinois, on the Mississippi River. She will be flying back Wednesday.

So, the next two nights I will be home alone. Maybe two burglars will break in the house and I will come up with all kinds of booby traps and tricks to foul the buglers up - and in just a short time they will be begging to be taken to jail. Hey! That would be a neat plot for a movie! We could call it "Home Alone 4".

This morning I walked on the treadmill 45 minutes, then after that went outside and ran two miles. Last Tuesday I had a slippance while running which put a strain on my ankle, so I took it easy since today. I'm happy to report all body parts seem to be working.


This is Barbara, Anna's late aunt-in-law. She is the one on the car's right fender. Also, that is her all dolled up.

She was born in Boston. Her family moved to Marietta, for whatever reason when Barbara was a teenager. She married Anna's uncle Paul. They had no children.

They spent a lot of time at the Elks Club. Any kind of charitable or social function the Elks Club did, you can bet they were at the heart of it.

Barbara smoked most of her adult life. In the last segment of her life food did not have any taste, so she more or less wasted away. I think possibly the nicotine scorched her taste buds. She had to drink some kind of protein-vitamin drink to survive.

I like the picture of her on the car hood. It has a little bit of "Rebel Without a Cause" waiting-on-the-drag-race-to-start look to it.

Sunday, May 14, 2006

the Queen's Handbag

I just saw a segment on CBS Sunday Morning Show a segment about women's handbags. They showed people of status, such as Martha Stewart and Queen Elizabeth and the handbags they were carrying.

It was pointed out that the Queen has a favorite handbag that she carried with her often.

Which made me wonder, what would Queen Elizabeth carry in her handbag?

1. A lady's handgun just in case something unexpected happened she could get behind a desk or a carriage and shoot off a round to scare the offenders off?

2. Toilet paper? You never know when she might have to use someone else's throne and it would just be her luck, no toilet paper.

3. Credit cards? What if her limo breakes down and her and her driver have to go to the next country town and get a can of gas.

4. Picture I.D. Just in case she stops by a pub and she tells the bar keeper to just charge it to her palace's account because she was the Queen and he said, "Sure, babe, you are the Queen and I am the President of the United States! She could pull out her I.D. and prove she is the Queen, and then tell the bar keeper to see his President of the U.S. identification..

5. A quick snack? If she has to attend a bunch of public functions it could be a long time without eating. If she had a Kellogg breakfast bar or maybe an apple in that bag she could excuse herself, get out of public view and gobble down whatever she has and nobody would know the difference.

6. A silver flask of her favorite drink.

yes,now I can understand why Her Majesty would need a handbag or possibly a back-pack.

Moon Walking

There is an interesting article about Michael Jackson in this morning's NY Times. The long-legged self-imposed artificial man is having money problems.

The Sony people are nervous. They each own about 50% ($300 million) ownership in a corporations that owns the rights to Beatles and Michael Jackson songs.

It seems ironic to me, that each time Paul McCartney sings as song he orginally wrote and made popular has to pay Michael Jackson for the use of that song.... "nothing person, that's business."

But now, Sony, is considering the possibility that Michael's finances may be a bit shakey, to say the least. What they fear, is if Michael is forced to sale his share Sony would have no say who they would joint own the music catalog with.

So Sony want to do a bit of maneuvering to get their hands on Michael's share by offering him a loan to get him out of dept and maybe with strings attached, such as his 50% share, and so on.

I myself would love to see Sir Paul McCartney step up to the plate and buy it.

Saturday, May 13, 2006

Mother-In-Law (me singing like the Coasters)

Marie is 85 years old. She is very active in church and family life. She is always on the go. When she is not going she is either dragging limbs and debris to the trash pile (she lives on 5 acres) or reading. Anna has, in the past several years, got her interested in reading novels.
Marie files everything. If you mention you read an interesting article about a certain local person there is a good chance she has a file on that person. She has a huge number of photos and on each photo she insists on putting a short biography of each person. If you took a roll of film of two people and give her all the prints. Next week when you drop by every print will have the same biographical sketch, like date of birth, child of, death (if so), sibling of, spouse of, and so on.

She is a perfectionist, which some people consider a curse.

Mama's Day

My mother is/was/always will be Ethel America "Janie" Petty Hunter (1918-1996). One picture above she is holding me while my older sister comes up on her tricycle. And in the other picture, years later, she is holding her youngest daughter. There are 15 years between the youngest sister and I, which is a generation in some countries.

When she was born she was named Ethel after a great aunt on the Petty side. 1918 was a very patriotic year. There were Old Glory flags flying everywhere, and everybody loved to sing "God Bless America" - which inspired her next older brother Osmo, to plead with their parents to name her America, which they obliged.

Before she was ten year old she got the nickname "Janie" - that is what her siblings begin calling her, after a girl that lived down the road. The Janie that lived down the road was self-centered and selfish. The nickname "Janie" stuck with her all the way to the grave.

She came to Marietta from the hills of north Georgia (near Dalton) to work in the knitting mills at age 17. Soon a few of her sisters moved down also and they rented a house.

She met her future husband, Ed Hunter, a patrolman for the Marietta Police Force and it didn't take long for them to marry, which side by side they were a contrast: She was about 4'10" and he 6'3".

After they married she quit work. Ed didn't think the mother raising his kids should work. Keeping up with the kids were a full time job.

She was there for us and and ready to go to battle with any one who crossed our paths. She defended me against more than one irrate teacher for some of my mischievious tricks.

If she felt she was in the right she went after her enemy with vigor, regardless who they were. One time she took on her own brother-in-law, the mayor, over a zoning problem and won. I think she enjoyed a good fight.

Through our family life (with my parents), I think we upscaled, as far as houses are concerned, 3 times. But each time, I thought it was funny, that once moved she always missed her old friends in her old neighborhood and tried to push the right peoples' buttons to undo the sell so they could move back.

She was completely paralyzed with no muscles at all her last five years... she seemed to have come down with Parkinson's Disease overnight after my father died in 1988 and from that point on she degressed until she was completely helpless.

She could not even speak, only faintly nod. The day before she died she held my hand and kissed the back of it.

Chasing Dogs and Buying Jewelry

Not only are we having technical problems. I am tired.

We shopped over 12 hours yesterday to replace Anna's jewelry she lost on our recent trip. When I solo shop I go straight to what I intend to buy, make a quick decision, plunk my money on the counter, pick up the item and leave. With Anna it is detailed studying and when you find something, then you try to deal, or bargain for it. She does well with the Pakistanis and dark skin Gypsy looking people. Or they make her think she got a deal anyway.

And it drained all my energy.

And today we have to get her ready for her business trip she is taking Monday to Illinois.

Also yesterday, we picked up my son's dog Belle at the dog motel. When we picked her up the lady from the back said, "Are you sure you want her?" She said Belle thinks she is always competing to bark the loudest. When she brought her out, it reminded me of a bucking wild bronco. Boy, was she wild. She would stand up and wiggle, to try to wiggle out of her collar.

We took her outside and got almost to the car when she stood up and wiggled just right and got loose from the collar and leash. Belle has always been the type of dog that you could never trust to take off running. As far as I know she has got loose three other times and each time it has taken a number of people to catch her.

This time she broke loose we were at the intersection of two busy 4-lane Boulevards. My heart sank. I knew Belle was a gonner. Either by escaping or by getting ran over.

Before I went off chasing her I opened the back door of our car so it would be easier to put in the car if I didn't have to wrestle with her and try to open the door at the same time.... that is IF we caught her, which is a big IF.

I went around the side of the car and she went around the car the other way and jumped into the car and sat on the back seat.

No problem!

Elijah W. Petty (1858-1927)

Elijah Petty was one of my mother's great uncles. He was born the son of William D. Petty. He was born near Blue Ridge, Fannin County, Ga., and he died in Murray County, Ga., between Chatsworth and Dalton.

He had two marriages. One was with Lizzie Lackie and the other one was with Annie E. A little curious matter: Lizzie at one time was married to another went to the same church and they are all buried in the same church cemetery - and the other man Lizzy was married to was married twice also.

I don't know about Annie. She was wise enough to hide her surname from future nosy family researchers.

We Are Suffering Technical Problems

When it gets beyond the On and Off button we get confused with this computer.

We are having a hard time this morning with Bell South. I don't know if it is us of them.

I can't send emails and it looks like I can get to my blog, but to do much more is a problem.

Well, you never know until you try.

Thursday, May 11, 2006

Waterman Street School - Side View

Wait! I haven't moved on yet.

This is the east side of Waterman Street School. See the front entrance to the right? Actually, there were two twin front entrances. This one is the one nearer to the eastern side. On those steps leading up to the front doors I remember discussing the life's mysteries, such as how to make an egg's shell soften to feel like a thin membrane and to make it look like a hog's ball (soak it overnight in vinegar). I was fooled. Somebody, I don't remember who showed me the soft-shell egg and told me it was a hog's ball.

On those steps one time Larry S. pulled out a condom and showed me, and I was impressed with the little white O-ring around the opening of it. Which I had a very scientific observation that went something like this: "so that is a rubber? Where do you buy them at?"

About 12 or 13 years later again Larry would take a condom out of his pocket. This time it was on the back row of the Hill Street Baptist Church. I wasn’t along with Larry and my other friends that Sunday night but I got several first hand accounts. They heard that on Sunday nights at Hill Street Baptist Church some loose teenage girls went there and they were easy to pick up. So, the boys went to check it out. During the sermon Larry got bored and pulled out a condom and started playing with it. It wasn’t long until he blew it up and tied a little knot in the O-ring thing. His cousin, also one of us, reached over and flipped the balloon shape rubber. Larry wasn’t expecting it and it got loose from him and landed in the aisle. There was a big fan at the near the back pews that kept the air circulating and brought in air from the outside. The inflated rubber was yanked into action by the fan’s wind current. It floated and gently bounced down the aisle like it had a soul of its own and wanted it saved by coming down to the preacher’s inspiring sermon. Larry and the others quickly left.

Many years later, Larry's younger brother became the preacher of Hill Street Baptist Church.

In the picture see the fire escape ladder coming from the two class rooms on the second floor? One time a boy named Van rammed my head into the fire escape at ground level and it took about 8 stitches to sew me up. It was right in the center of my head, I looked kind of like Frankenstein's Monster for several years until the scar finally went away. If I look closely, I can still see a hint of it.

Van died about ten years ago. He was a diabetic. He died because he went to the hospital to have a leg amputated and they removed the wrong leg which caused complications.

His brother died last month at age 78 because he got fed up with all the medications he was taking and threw them all out.

Once, when I was in about the 3rd or 4th grade a boy and girl from Poland came in the middle of the year and were enrolled. The spoke with a strong accent. They just were different from us. Not different bad, just different. If most of the kids wore denim or corduroy, they wore what looked like dressed pants. This was not long after World War II, so I would think they were refugees. They were in school over a year and one day they just quit coming.

Mrs. Whitehead, the principal, called me out of class and asked me if I knew where the Polish boy and girl lived. I said I did. I was pretty much all over the area. She asked, or told, me to go to their house and see why they haven't been at school. Which I did. The house was empty. They vamoosed. I remember it was pouring down raining. And what is even more strangely, their house, by the railroad tracks were only about three blocks from the rooming house Mrs. Whitehead lived in. Why send an 8 year old to do a job of a grown up, when it was just down the street form where she lived? One of my puzzles.

When Van rammed me against the fire escape 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.

Miss S one time had me walk to her apartment with her after school. She had caught a pigeon that somehow got in her room and she wanted to give to me. She had it in a box for me and I carried it home. We lived in an older house and had a non-working bathroom on the back porch.... actually, we haven't tried using it since my parents had one built inside the house. I kind of treated the bathroom on the back porch as a secret hideout or a private den. I put the pigeon in there, had bread crumbs all over the place and water.

The next morning I rushed into where the bird was at and there was nothing but scattered feathers. I suppose a rat or a cat got ahol of it. I don't remember telling Miss S about the extinction of the pigeon.

Miss S that year married Bill Kenney, who was a young reporter for the Marietta Journal. He is now an elderly editorial writer and history writer for the same paper. I hear his wife, Alberta S Kenny doesn't even know her own name anymore.

Chit Chat

I just thought I would chat a while.

My oldest son flies to Richmond this afternoon and returns late tomorrow. He is putting his dog in a vacation-kennel and our assignment is to pick her up tomorrow before 6pm when they close. Do you think we can handle it?

Tuesday while running on a street close by I took a tumble. Well, actually, it wasn't a tumble. It was more like "opps!" Two cars from different directions were going by even with me at the same time. That meant the car closest to me could not lean over in the next lane. And there was no sidewalk, only a steep bank, which I immediately went down. I wasn't expecting this sudden downward terrain, so didn't brace myself. So, I have not been able to run Wednesday or Thursday. I have just been hobbling around. But I feel better than I did yesterday, and hopefully, I will feel better tomorrow than I do now, and probably in no time it will only hurt when I laugh.

Are you ready for Mother's Day? By ready, for some it will mean buying a card or maybe flowers, or maybe a gift. If the mother has departed, then, it is a good time to honor them. We, just like birthdays, use Mother's Day and Father's Day as good excuse to try out restaurants. We will be eating Mother Day's dinner at a new Italian restaurants, that I think is locally owned.

I called my sisters yesterday and invited them to the Mother Day's dinner and my oldest sister told me lately she has been making a habit of one day a week going to the Dairy Queen and buying herself an order of onion rings and then a small sundae. She belongs to Weight Watchers and is losing weight, so, I can't criticize. She wss telling me yesterday when she went in the D.Q. last, somebody behind the counter said, "Hi Grandma!" Apparently, she looked surprised, so the person waited on her said they developed a nickname for her, because she routinely comes in and orders the exact items, so now when she comes in the door, somebody will say, "Here comes Grandma, we got the onion rings ready?" My sister said she didn't know she should feel complemented she is getting noticed, or mad because they identify her with the "grandma" look.

My sister is 67 years old and was a vice president of the bank and after she retired there became head of the finance department of a local college and I think always considered herself an aggressive looking sharp eyed single business woman? Grandma?

But it is nice to get some unexpected attention sometimes.

Yesterday, my youngest son called me and said he went to the bookstore I recommended him to buy a book for Anna for Mother's Day. Anna loves books by local authors and I knew this certain bookstore would have the latest book by a writer she likes. When he was writing a check the owner, a lady by the name of Cathy, saw his last name and asked if he was related to Eddie Hunter. He said, yes, that was his dad. She said for him to tell me to get myself in there, she missed our talks.

He called and told me. That little bit of favorable attention made me feel good too. When I first retired, I started visiting Cathy's bookstore often and we ended up in some long talking sessions. She is from Illinois and she enjoyed me telling her about local stuff and local concerts and things. I haven't visited her in over a couple of months, so it is nice to know I was missed. I'll drop to see her.

Waterman Street School

In a recent blog I mentioned carrying a bat to school near the end of my 7th grade year.

I went there, my two sisters went there, my father, his 8 siblings, and some of my life time friends also went there.

My father was born across the street and I was born about a block away. This was home.

In the 1970s they tore it down to make way for a Salvation Army building. I don't see why they couldn't use the building already there.

But if they didn't tear it down, then they couldn't give alumni the bricks.