Thursday, May 31, 2007

Happy Mountain Pet Adoptions

Scene – a well lit cell block lined with cages. Inside each cage is a being.

Two women walk down the aisle between the two rows of cages. They see a lonely dog sadly baying in a deep voice. Off on another row you can hear the yipping of another dog answering him. One cage has a man inside sitting in a chair watching a ball game on TV. Another cage has a homeless teenage girl with spiked green hair. She looks pissed off.

The two women stop in front of a cage where a man is sitting in a recliner watching a TV, Law & Order, Special Victims. He does not notice them. When a commercial comes on he picks up a book and opens it and read, and slamming it shut when the story starts again.

One of the women asks the lady in the blue uniform: How about this one?

Blue Uniform: (looking on clipboard): He is about 65 or 66 years old, which ever, old is old. His name is Edwin.

Lady: Hello Edwin.

Edwin doesn’t look up. He just picks the inside of his ear and look at the dead skin in his fingers.

Blue Uniform: We haven’t spent much time with this being, it says, frankly, we just haven’t noticed it. It says here it goes by the name of “Eddie”.

Lady: Does it shed?

Blue Uniform: Yes. It says here it sheds dry skin, dry ear wax, ear hairs, and nostril hairs – as you can see, you don’t have to worry about shedding on top of his head.

Lady: Hi Eddie!

Edwin looks up and smiles. He stands up politely, being in the presence of women and all.

Blue Uniform: Sit!

Edwin looks disappointed but sits back down.

Blue Uniform: He is pretty well trained, watch this: Lie down and play dead!

Edwin studies her a minute and sees that she is serious and then carefully bends his knees and put one hand on the floor to support himself and eases himself down in a reclining position.

Blue Uniform reaches into a bag on her side and in a high pitched baby-talk voice: Good boy Eddie!

And tosses him a KFC drumstick. Edwin grabs for it in the air and ends up just swatting it and it lands on the floor. Edwin picks it up and eats it.

Lady: Does he have a pedigree?

Edwin: Do I have a pedigree? My great grandfathers and my great great grandfather fought in the Civil War.

Blue Uniform: Sit!

Edwin: My great –great great great grandfather fought at Kings Mountain in the Revolutionary War…

Blue Uniform: No No! Bad Person!

Edwin: One of my ancestors was the sister of Chief Justice John Marshall!!!

Blue Uniform, pulling out a rolled up newspaper: Play dead!

Edwin: Her son lived next door to the Hermitage near Nashville and was a pallbearer at Old Hickory’s Funeral….

Blue Uniform swats Edwin with the rolled up newspaper and he suddenly rolls over and plays dead.

Lady: Well, he has a little age on him, but I think he could do yard work, maybe chop wood, paint the house, and other heavy but simple jobs I have around the house.

As each job is mentioned Edwin’s eyes get wider with an angry look and he frowns a little more each time. He slowly get up. Then he hices his leg and lets a huge ripping sounding fart that stinks up the whole area.

Lady: Is he house broken?

Blue Uniform: Well, I don’t know, as I said, I haven’t noticed this being before. But evidently not.

Lady Number One: What else do you have?

And they walk off the scene.

Edwin sits back down shaking his head and turns up the volume on Law and Order.

The curtain falls. End of scene.

Bobby the movie and Bobbie and his brother

We watched the movie “Bobby” last night. It was done very good. It has a list of famous stars as long as your arm in it. The list of stars, I think, was a list of tricks…. I think you could use the 3 degree game of the stars and touch everyone in the movie industry, and some within the same movie had a relationship. For instance Emilio Estevez made the film and was one of the stars, so was his father. And there are more examples like that.

The movie is goings on and operational activities at the Ambassador Hotel in L.A. in the 1968, when the climax was when Bobby Kennedy was shot dead there in the kitchen. Great movie!

It got me thinking about the two Kennedy brothers who were killed. During the movie several times it had speeches of Bobby Kennedy and what golden words came out of his mouth. And his brother was the same way. They both had charisma. They were smart, rich, but had their candid ways to show they walked and put on their pants like the rest of us but when they spoke they spoke how most of us felt.

Since then we have not had such charismatic leaders. Bill Clinton came close, but after he “did not have sex with that woman” he blew it – or she blew it, or something. After that Clinton was not taken seriously.

And the Bushes? Hah! Forget it! His speeches more or less say, “Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do for your wealthy citizens”,

Wednesday, May 30, 2007

The Happy Hollow Pet Rescue Agency

a one act play

Volunteer: Hello! Welcome to the Happy Hollow Rescue Agency. How may I help you?

ETH: Well, I was looking for a dog.

Volunteer: What kind of dog sir?

ETH: Oh, maybe something feisty and quick. You know what I mean?

Volunteer: I think so sir. You want one to exercise with you!

ETH: Exercise? Er-yeah, that is right. To exercise.

Volunteer: Did you want a long hair or short hair?

ETH: I think a short hair would work out better to er – er – exercise.

Volunteer: And of course you don’t want a dog that would shed much would you?

ETH: It doesn’t matter, who cares? Right?

Volunteer: Did you have any breed in mind sir?

ETH: I heard some good things about Pitt Bulls.

Volunteer: Sir!! Some states outlaw Pitt Bulls! They can be dangerous if not properly trained. I don’t think you want a Pitt Bull – maybe a cute miniature poodle.

ETH: Poodle? Good God! I want a Pitt Bull!!! … you better give me two, in case they have tag-team matches or something... or if I need a spare... yuk yuk.

Volunteer: Sir! I think you are wanting to buy some pit bulls for dog fighting. I cannot adopt you a dog for that reason – it would be unethical.

ETH: Ok, ok, oh by the way, you don’t have any roosters that need rescuing do you?

Curtain falls.

Back to the High Art Museum

(click on this picture or any other picture to appreciate it more)

Yesterday we went again to the Atlanta Art Museum. Before we went there we went to the Cobb County Humane Society and the Atlanta Humane Society looking for some sort of million dollar super dog that someone would love for us to take off their hands.

As far as dog hunting, we did get some good ideas. However, we did not find a single dog that knew how to cook, wash dishes, vacuum, and cut grass.

Anna is on vacation this week.

We did not get to the Atlanta High Art Museum until 4pm – with plans to spend a few hours there to study a group of bronze art works named THE GATES OF PARADISE by Lorenzo Ghiberti and the photographic exhibit by Annie Leibovitz.

The guy who issued our tickets told us we had one hour – the art museum would close at 5pm. Gads! A rush through an art museum is insane.

THE GATES OF PARADISE bonze art by Lorenzo Ghiberti was on display. I am not sure of the date but I think it was the mid 1400s – that would even be before Christopher Columbus tried to prove the world was round and stumbled across the Indians.

Of the Bronze works on display was one about 11 by 14 or larger, slightly bigger than poster size of David having just finished slaying Goliah (?) was bending over sawing off his head. In the background was the cityscape of Jerusalem and closer a crowd of on-lookers. Which proves even then where there is blood there will be gawkers.

There were a couple more of those sizes, such as the Garden of Eden and God is making Eve for Adam… however, there are some more men standing around looking… I think I need to go back and reread Genesis –I think I missed something.

And there was THE GATES OF PARADISE huge display. It reaches high, almost to the ceiling. It is surely near ten feet tall and has ten panels. Each Panel is about the same size as the bronze poster size art of David cutting off Goliah’s (?) head and the Adam’s getting his Eve. They are five panels high and two across. The panels are in order, much like reading a comic book. The first panel to read or look at is in the top left, then you go to your right and check out the next panel, then drop to the next one on the first of the next row, then the one to the right of it, then drop, and keep that up. I wonder if the sequence of comics got there method from these bronze works.

This reminds me of my ancestors the Killian line in Bavaria before they came to America. There is about a four or five generation of this line that were bronze artists. Some of their works were for royalty. Some sold for weird art… one Killian ancestor was known for one particular bronze plate (if that is what you call it) that has a skull with a flower growing out of the eye socket. I’ll have to tell more about my Killian ancestors soon.

The Annie Leibovitz exhibit was of her photographs between 1990 and 2005. I think a lot of them were for magazine covers such as The Rolling Stone. A lot of her pictures were of the rich and famous, but also a lot were of her family and dying friend. The photographs were fantastic. That is my critique. They were just good. I think Annie is very good working with black and white… she seems to have used sharp contrast of light and dark in many of pictures, and many she had a lone individual, maybe famous and maybe not, in a unique solo situation that makes the photograph take on a depressing tone. There were hundreds of pictures. Each one great.

I think a lot of thought was put into placing the pictures on display. On one display wall was a picture of Bush and his inner-circle such as Connie Rice, Dick Chaney, and maybe three or four more. Next to that picture was Michael Moore his close circle of assistants such as a camera man and a sound man and maybe one or two more…. Just the placement of the pictures was practicing the contrast that Annie was so good at.

Tuesday, May 29, 2007

Ribs and Music

We went to the Texas Roadhouse last yesterday evening. We have eaten there several times, mostly because someone of our family wanted to eat there for their birthday.

I ordered ribs and a baked sweet potato. They were both good. The ribs were falling off the bones tender with a delicious sauce. It was literally finger licking good.

Also there they had blaring country and western music. After a while, it kind of fitted in... with all the waitresses in their cowboy attire and all. We recognized the voice of Marietta's own Travis Tritt singing a selection. And also we heard Willie Nelson, which should be expected because I think he is part owner of the Texas Roadhouse chain.

Once, I saw all the waitresses and waiters, and maybe a couple of buspersons getting together in a bunch and I expected them to go marching to a table clapping their hands and singing Happy Birthday, but they didn't. Instead, they formed a long line down the main aisle of much of the restaurant and started line dancing. They clapped, they did two-steps, and everything else you do while line dancing. It was entertaining to watch.

What was even more entertaining was watching an elderly lady slowly walking trying to work her way around all the line dancers, in a polite non-abusive nervously smiling and nodding way.


We rented and watched the DVD THE MAN OF THE YEAR with Robbin Williams yesterday.

I thought it was a good movie with some very good civic lessons in a slapstick Robbin Williams' style way. What came out of Robbin's mouth was that you cannot trust the Democrats or the Republicans - they had to accept millions of dollars to get there, so naturally they had to pay favors, regardless of which party they belonged to. And after they wined and dined with the lobbyists there just weren't any thing left for the common man.

Also, said more than once, that when the public starts looking at you and your questionable ethics too closely it is the time to create a diversion. It can be a scare tactic or a plea to their patriotism and heart, like taking up the time to debate whether the flag should get special treatment... it takes up time to talk about this issue which could be put to a better use discussing ways to whip poverty or end the war.

Does that sound like anyone we know?

Alfred Charles Hunter

This is Alfred Charles Hunter (1891-1973). He was the son of Charles Jefferson Hunter, who was the son of William A. Hunter, my g-grandfather.

Alfred went to Southern Medical College which was later named Emory. He became a dentist. He moved to Kerrville, Texas and married Mamie Akridge.

Alfred was born in Cherokee County, Georgia, and died in Texas. It is believed that once he moved to Texas to set up his dental practice he never returned to Georgia. Was it because his father remarried after Charles’ mother died? Who knows.

Charles had one son Akridge Charles Hunter who also became a dentist. Akridge and I swapped information and I talked him and his wife coming to Georgia one time to see his cousins at a Hunter reunion. I think they came a couple more times, but I am not positive. Maybe after visiting their cousins in this area, they decided we weren't all that much to look at.

Monday, May 28, 2007

Asheville and Around

We went to Asheville, North Carolina, and points north of there the previous weekend.

Here and there in town we would cross over the French Broad River several times. I have stumbled across the French Broad River in several researches while trying to find the originals of my Hunter ancestors.

My great-g-g grandfather John Hunter (1775-1848) lived in Buncombe County for a time (Asheville), and that is where his children were born – or nearby Henderson County. He died in 1848 in Union County, Georgia. A Hunter family lived in Buncombe County (Asheville) who had a son named John Hunter (b1775) who married Polly Edwards – as yet, I have found no direct proof that the John Hunter of this family is my ancestor John Hunter.. but it probably is. And if so, his parents were William and Anna Caldwell Hunter. William owned a tavern at the French Broad River in the area.

The building on the left is the Buncombe County Courthouse and the building on the right is the city of Asheville City Hall.

There is a mall there in the middle of town that a guy named Grove created. It has unique stores and offices in the upper levels. Grove also created some a cure for yellow fever, or some other disease of the times.

In the downtown area we drove up and down every street there – more than a few times trying to decide what to do and where to eat.

There were street musicians here and there on corners. There were a group of elderly ladies in their red hats and purple dresses protesting something, I missed what. There was a hot band in a small park that people were gathered around. And all these people made it harder to find a parking place.

We finally decided on a Cajun barbecue joint. It was okay, but not all that great. The downtown area of the barbecue joint is about 6 to 10 blocks wide and 6 to 10 blocks the other way. So, that is between 36 and 100 blocks of the good life. Outside dining, inside dining, art shops, and I don’t know what all – but a lot of young carefree living – which seems odd for a mountain community.

The morning time of our first morning the lobby and the free breakfast area was crowded with young people in nylon sport clothing. We soon found out that Asheville was hosting a big basketball tournament.

Someplace squeezing myself between people in the lobby I picked up on a conversation of a husband and wife, talking to some new found friends, how each of them talk on the phone… for each to mock his or her spouse the held up a thumb and pinky finger up to the side of their face. The thumb and the little finger is now the universal symbol for a telephone. I didn’t realize it until I saw both them doing it and it looked so natural and I picked up immediately they were imitating being on a phone.

We have been to the Biltmore House before in Asheville, NC, when the kids were young in grammar school. We didn’t really consider going this time. We do want to go sometime during the Christmas season, we hear they really make the place a Christmas Wonderland. We thought however, it would be nice to drive up the long driveway, which is several miles long…. It is such a park-like setting around every bend.

You might remember the movie with Peter Sellers, - I think the name of it was “The Gardner” Much of it was filmed at the Biltmore Estate.

We drove through the entrance and got behind a group of cars heading towards the mansion. At one point was a couple of guards. Some he would wave on and some he talked to and some he pointed over someplace. When he got to us he told us to buy tickets. I said we didn’t want to buy tickets, we just wanted to ride around and look at things outside. He said, this is as far as we can go, go make a U-Turn right there (he pointed). I misunderstood him and thought he meant another drive a few yards away. I drove passed the place I was ordered to make my U-Turn.

“HEY!!!” He shouted. Opps! He came towards us really scowling. I did quickly my U-Turn, almost hitting two runners and a car.

Anna's Gargoyle
On the way out we dropped by the Biltmore Gift Shoppe just outside the gate. Anna bought a small Gargoyle and I tried the various cheese samples that was laid out to complement the Biltmore Wine tasting even that was soon to take place.

Speaking of Gargouyles, here is mine that I have had a long time. It is perched on a bookshelf beside a replica of "The Sleeping Lion" which the original statue is in the Confederate section of Oakland Cemetery in Atlanta.

We went north to the little town of Burnsville, not far from the Tennessee border where a festival was to be taking place. The “come-on” we read on the net said music of all kinds and food of all kinds and arts & crafts.

To get there we drove through Yancy County which plainly doesn’t have any zoning laws. There were at least three, maybe more houses that old junky cars and old rusty buses in their yards…. Terrible sights to be beautiful rolling hill countryside.

The Burnsville Festival was a country band and maybe 5 or 6 arts and crafts booths. They had two food booths. One served booth served barbecue and the other booth served nachos and cheese and maybe corn dogs. It was our disappointment for the day. And they almost only had one. The owner of the barbecue booth owns a barbecue catering service near Atlanta. He told us not too many day ago he was searching the Internet looking for festivals and came across this one. He wrote and asked them did they need a barbecue vender and suddenly, he was one.

I noticed a lot of bikers in the town. Just by what I observed and I am wrong plenty, I think the bikers and the mountain farmers have some sort of comforting relationship. The bikers like to ride around mountain curves. And they farmer, down in the valley on his plow see them and wishes he was as free as a bird as they seemed to be. And the biker probably appreciates the farmer working Mother Earth. I noticed sitting around on benches in town they seem to respect each other.

The Burnsville Festival

Before we checked into our room at a motel in Mars Hill, NC., we drove through the little town of Mars. Hill. A couple of blocks from downtown is a beautiful college campus. I think Mars Hill College is the principle industry of Mars Hill, NC.

We checked into the motel. We asked the desk clerk what was going on in this area (far away from anything) that the only had one room left when we called and made our reservations the day before. She said two family reunions and a wedding. I asked her which one had more food – we would take that one.

The next morning after breakfast, which I already mentioned, I was pushing the luggage rack down the motel corridor and I was approaching an opened door. About that time the door across the hall opened as I was passing. A lady from inside the door that just opened said, “Good morning Sunshine!” And a man from the door already opened, said, “Are you talking to me or that gentleman?” – meaning me. She said, “The gentleman!”

And I said, “Morning Moonbeam!” But down in my heart I was saying, “I was noticed! Somebody actually saw me and commented!”

On the local TV news, which was broadcasted from Greenville, South Carolina, we heard of a big hot air balloon fest in Simpsonville, South Carolina, not far from Greenville. They were to have balloon rides going up and coming back down for about $10 or $15, long rides for a hundred bucks and other balloonists were having a race to a far away place… I didn’t catch where to. On the way back to Georgia we thought we would give it a try. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained”, they say. What they don’t say is, “Venturing can be costly.”

Established in 1982, by the Greenville Chamber of Commerce to provide a local event center on patriotic and family entertainment.
The concept of the festival started when a movie company came to the Chamber of Commerce asking them to have a festival so they could use it as a backdrop for the movie “Hot Heir”, which was released as a 3-D movie, but never made it to the Greenville area local theaters. And after that, they just kept on having it as a tradition…. And a good money getter I might add.

We found Simpsonville near Greenville. We expected to see some kind of signs pointing to the balloons. There were no signs. We drove to the little town, through the town, and about a mile and a half on the other side were policemen and their flashing vehicles. Somehow, we got directed off the road onto a big field, probably equal to the size of four or five football fields. A group in bright orange tee-shirts collected $5 from us and told us to go that-a-way. Another group with the same type of bright orange tee-shirts directed us to a parking place…. The person in his early 20s used both hands and all eight fingers to direct us to the correct distance behind a car. He must have been a aircraft carrier flight deck placer wannabee. He did his job well.

We were told to go “over there” and wait for the shuttle bus. We walked “over there” to stand. A dark skinned man and his dark skinned wife approached. I think they had a child with them. They both had tattoos. The two were not very old. They were probably in their early 20s. He was wondering where he could find a motel with a Laundromat. We asked them where were they from. He was vague saying something to the effect that they go wherever they want. The more we talked, the more he said. He was a carnival worker. Either that morning or the day before when he reported for work at whatever ride he worked his boss told him he was 30 minutes late, so for him to take the whole day off. The guy said he could do better than that, he would take the whole week off. So, they were on the go.

He told us there would be a lot to do that this thing we were waiting to go to. In a several minutes I realized he had carnivals and rides on his brain. Even when he didn’t have to go to a carnival he went for fun.

I suppose he was a member of the infamous White family, a.k.a. Travelers, a.k.a. Gypsy. I noticed a few years ago, Gypsies were the only group of people, who were born into their group that it was politically correct to be prejudiced against, scorn them, say bad things about them, and make them the blunt of your jokes – and it was okay to say they are thieves and dishonest. It seems Gypsies need some kind of representation or a spokesman or something.

About a tenth of the huge park was for food and crafts and the other remaining area was for carnival type stuff like rides and games.

You had to buy tickets and they were your method of currency. At each place the price would tell how many tickets for what. Our lunch cost us 9 tickets. We had one ticket left over which we gave a mother to use for her daughter.

We had a hard time finding where the hot air balloons were to take off. And when we did, it was even harder to get a straight answer WHEN. The most specific time we could get was “Probably about 6pm”. The policeman who told us that, after he found out, said, “I’m as disappointed as you are.”

We got back on the road to Atlanta. We took a toll-highway to get out of the Greenville area, which cost $2.

Anna read aloud the latest book I am reading while I drove. She already read it for herself but did this for me.

No trip can be completed without a visit to an outlet mall. We went to an outlet mall in Commerce, which is between Gainesville, Georgia, and the South Carolina state line. Holly Hunter is an native of Commerce. They have a very big outlet mall there. Anna bought a watch from Seiko store. The manager was very wordy and clever. When she was paying for it she asked something to the effect were they an authorized Seiko repair store. He said, “No, which is probably a good thing. We are nice but not very smart.”

While Anna did some more shopping I enjoyed sitting on a bench on the walk like a wooden Indian and watched people walk by. It appears that Mexican fathers are more devoted to their children than us white folks are.

Also, speaking of Mexican fathers, I went to the rest room there and when I walked in was a Mexican man standing in the middle of the floor putting his toddler daughter’s clothes on. I felt a little awkward. Should I have unzipped my shorts, turn around and face the urinal, whip it out or what? Maybe I should have went to a stall and shut the door real easily, as not to cause a scene… heck, whatever I decided to do, it would be wrong. Luckily, he had her clothes on and they left before I got down to business.

Another “A Lot About Nothing” post

Memorial Day - Hoorah for the Vets and Military!

You military and ex-military. Thank you ever so much for putting your lives on the line for the protection of the homelands.

Unfortunately, at times you also had to put your lives on the line for different presidents’ political gains, monetarily gains, and their personal paranoia. That just isn’t right.

I Am Not Mechanical Minded

I have never been considered mechanical minded.

The other morning we had a free breakfast at the motel we were staying at. Since it was free, you do everything yourself.

If you want a waffle it is up to you to make it. I wanted a waffle. Opps!

The waffle batter is already measured out in a little cup and the waffle iron is opened and ready. I poured the batter over the iron cleats and did as per instructed and also from watching other people, turn the machine over one time. Then an electronic timer started timing. When it was done it beeped so I opened to waffle iron and pried my waffle out, which part of it stuck sort of tearing up my waffle.

To maintain my image I acted casual and continued putting the pieces on my paper plate, to show that is what I planned. Image.

Then, I think I clamped the iron together and it started beeping again. I opened it up to correct myself and started walking away. I must have left it lopsided because it lost its balance and leaned quickly then fell into something and things begin to fall.

As clumsy with tools as I am, by reflex by quickly grabbed the stand and steadied it. Then out of no where the Indian (Far Eastern) manager showed up and politely said, “That’s ok, I got it.”

Which translated to “Hands off you clumsy idiot! Go eat that damn mess you created and stay out of the way!”

And we are back home.

Sunday, May 27, 2007

I read someplace that to get people in the Army these days, with a war going on and all, they had to loose their high standards, and give big bonuses to recruiters, and so on.

I wonder if they tried the "Dozen Virgins" Incentive Plan? That may even have a doubling effect, if they upped it to say, three dozen virgins. Then, not only would they get more abled bodied men, but they just might get a bunch to comeover from the other side.

Saturday, May 26, 2007


We are someplace in North Carolina - Mars Hill, NC.
A guard at the Biltmore Estate yelled at me today. Then we went to Burnsville.
I am just trying to prove to myself I can navigate this thing in strange lands.

I don't quiet have my pecking rhythm down pat yet. Give me time. Microsoft wasn't built in a day.

Friday, May 25, 2007

Weekend Get-a-Way

You may or may not see a blog posting from me this weekend. We will be on a little out of state trip.

We are carrying a laptop – but we never used one before as far as emailing or blogging. So, we will see.

Thursday, May 24, 2007

Bascomb Methodist Church Cemetery

I put John T. Huey's grave as the lead in picture because he once owned much of the land the cemetery is on. He deeded it the land to Bascomb Methodist Church. John T,Huey is a progenitor.

This is Bascomb United Methodist Church near Woodstock. And a continuation of pictures I accumulated while tromping through cemeteries.

I have a lot of relatives buried here and so does Chris, who contributes comments to my blogs. His wife and I are related to the same Hueys in this cemetery. So, I am sort of walking on my tip-toes here – my information might not agree with his information.

This, I believe is our common ancestor. James was the father John T. Huey, who is the last in our line of common ancestors. He shares the marker with Druscilla 1792-1857. Their son John T.’s wife was also name Druscilla, Drucilla Wilson. Chris may have something to add about that.

I don’t have any information on Joyce Huey. She may have died young. It is an interesting marker.

This is Guyirne Hunter’s grave. She died at age 18. She was the daughter of John Rafas Hunter, who was the son of William Hunter/Trammell and Emaline Ray Hunter. According to the news clips it was a shock and sadness. She died of a rare disease.

Speaking of John Rafas - here he and his wife Lillie Hill lie. After John died Lilly moved to Birmingham, Alabama, to live with her daughter, whose husband worked in a steel mill.

Lois Hunter Carraway lived 102 years. For a short time she was married to a Mr. Carraway. As her nephew said, “She sent him packing.”

When I first got into family research I found out a person that could help me a lot was Lois. At the time, she lived in our ancestor’s house on Main Street in Woodstock. She had plenty of old pictures that I copied and verbally told me a lot of information about her first cousins and stuff – straight off her busy brain.

The house she had most of the rooms closed off I suppose to save on utility bills but she was happy to show me around and point out things of interest, pertaining William Hunter and his wife Emaline.

Lois’s had a sister. When they were very young their father died. William and Emaline took them and their mother in and they lived there – well, in Lois’s case, I don’t she ever left until she went to a rest home in her late 90s. William was the only father she knew.

Lois told me William was adopted by his mother’s people, and that was the end of that. Well, she was right about that, but she didn’t mention that William was a bastard child – his father Jason already had a family when he had an affair with William’s mother Rebecca Trammell. And, after the Civil War when he returned home he and his uncle Van Trammell were “involved in killing a man over a horse” – they were wanted for murder. They left the state.

I was so proud of my discovery I typed it up and sent copies to uncles and cousins that I thought would be interested. I sent Lois a copy. That was a mistake. Lois called me up and chewed me out. She was like a hot sparkle of coal that lands on your flesh and won’t let go. She said she knew everything I knew, and she was hoping to take that secret to the grave with her and I ruined everything. She was proud of her grandfather and that was the only father she knew and he deserved more respect that I gave him… which, I still have him respect, I just said Rebecca had to sue Jason H. Hunter for bastardy. And the murder he was accused of being involved in… I didn’t say he committed murder.

When I took this picture I almost expected her hand to reach out of the grave and drag me in.

Clarence Poore. William’s grandchildren intermarried with the Poore family on two or three occasions, and so did Anna’s family on at least one occasion. This is just one of the Poores that I thought was an item of interest.

Michael Lamar Tyson is a sad story. He was with his siblings and first cousins playing one day and the kids started throwing rocks at each other. A rock hit him and killed him.
He was Billy Tyson’s son.

My ancestors Obediah Hargraves Tyson and his wife, Nancy Elizabeth Huey, daughter of John T. Huey.

Robert Edward Tyson "Uncle Ed" was my grandmother’s brother.

So was “Uncle Will” aka William Obediah Tyson. When I was doing my research of talking to the oldest family members I went to Uncle Will with a tape recorder. He was in his 90s and stayed in his home in an unpainted shack (in the daytime) alone, although he was worth plenty. On one of my visits I tried to get him to talk about his siblings and his parents but that day he wanted to talk about his mule. He told all about his mule and how they had a game they played… sometimes he would trick her into pulling the plow when she didn’t want to, and sometimes she would trick him go get to guild the plow when he wasn’t up to it. He told me who he bought her from and years later when he got too old to work the fields, who he sold her to, and who they her to. I wish I had their picture together – I bet they made quiet a couple

There are many other Hueys and Tysons in this cemetery, but I don't have much information or details so I am passing over them for now.

Long Trip

This morning, as usual, I walked out to get the paper. I heard a series of honking. I realized the honking were coming from Canadian Geese someplace above me in the dark sky.

The sky was much darker than the picture I swiped from Google (above). To the east, above the trees the sky was lighter, but daylight was still over an hour away. I looked at my watch and it was 5:45am. I suppose they wanted to get an early start because of the long trip north ahead of them.

You might could say they were "early birds"! (one bang on the brass thing near the drum)

I got a million of 'em! Come back for more, y'hear?

The Bell

This bell is at the edge of Anna's mother's carport.

This same bell was used as an announcement mechanism when the men worked in the fields. A certain number of clangs would be "Lunch is Ready" and so many clangs would be "Emergency - come quickly!" And other number of clangs would have other messages.

I wonder how many clangs meant: "Go back to work! The kids were just playing!"

Wednesday, May 23, 2007

Adam a Few Hours (and Years) Later

Dress Like Your Wannabe

Adam & Rocky posing with Native Americans in Cherokee, North Carolina.

Dressing the Role

Yesterday I heard of a new boss of an organization that spoke to someone about their sloppy dress attire. The person he spoke to is well educated but it so happens that his job requires for him to get in places that could get him dirty or raggedy. The new boss, I think, didn’t like the idea of the guy having his shirt tail out. Trying to give a motivational inspirational quote to top things off the boss said, “Don’t dress for your present job, dress for the next job you want.”

That quote might not be word for word, but close enough.

That quote got me thinking.

So, that is why our garbage man that hangs on the truck wears an astronaut suit and helmet!

And that teenager who sacks our greeneries at Krogers. So, that is why! She must want to be a lifeguard this summer.

Think of a manager in a big organization that got his job by nepotism. Maybe he didn’t want that sort of managerial job at all. Maybe he looks at admiration of the hard hats outside his window doing manly things like walking beams of steel. He should wear a hard hat to his office with his metal lunch box, and sit on a side of a desk and whistle and make comments at the girls as they walk by.

The Indians who make their living by posing with little kids with a sign that says, “Tips Please” . Surely they would prefer some other job than having little sticky little kids hanging all over them and maybe trying to kill them with their rubber tomahawk they just bought…. Would it be okay if they wore a $2000 business suit to the teepee backdrop?


Tuesday, May 22, 2007

Another Dog Named Skip

The White Family live in a white house. The back of their yard is separated from our side yard by our chain-link fence. The Whites are the ones I mentioned in an earlier blog posting about their house was haunted by a Cheryl, a previous resident who died there and they had a priest to perform an exorcism.

They have three dogs. They first bought Skip. Skip is a terrier. He looks something like a Jack Russell. He is named Skip because he looks very similar to the dog in the movie A Dog Named Skip.

After Skip established himself the Whites got another dog they named Bing. This dog is a very small little thing that is all covered in hair that has ribbons and sometimes perfume. But not so much perfume anymore. Usually Skip can not stand the little dog but when they put on the perfume, evidently, Skip is a keen smeller like dogs are suppose to be, so Skip perceived Bing as being a totally different dog…. And VA-VA-VOOM!!!
Skip tried putting the make on Bing.

Skip also tries putting the make on any human leg. Many times I have seen the man White walk limping-style in the back yard while Skip was completely hugging the man’s leg and hunching.

Skip barks a lot. He is very hyper and very nervous…. not unlike Barney Fife on the Andy Griffin Show. When either I am out in the yard or the neighbor on the other side of them are out in the yard Skip will stand at the fence and bark and bark fiercely and shows his teeth in a threatening way.

The Whites have a dog door. Skip and the other dogs come and go in and out the house as they want. One day the Whites were gone and left the dogs there. When they returned on their answering machine or were a bunch of calls of Skip barking wildly. Evidently, the man on the other side of them went out in the yard with his cell phone and held it towards Skip barking. The message was clear.

It happened a couple other times. The Whites decided to get a privacy fence for that side.

He could not see the neighbors on the other side of the privacy fence, so out of sight out of mind, I guess. Our fence is a chain-link fence, so he still barked wildly at me every time I was in the back yard (notice I said “barked”).

Skip can jump high and straight up when he puts his mind to it. He doesn’t leap with his hind legs doing the springing or anything – he just springs up high. On occasion I have walked between the Whites’ house and their neighbors house to get to the other street to visit or something and Skip would go bananas barking from their large front window. I could see him spring up, maybe 5 feet up in the air, barking, then fall out of sight then immediately spring back up, as if he was on a trampoline.

Every Skip would see me near the fence he would almost burst a gut barking. It seemed he could not stand the sight of me. Sometimes he would be poking around their back yard smelling and then catch my movement or catch my scent and go wild barking…. That was the way Skip did things… terrible temper.

Yesterday, I was out by the fence and I saw that Skip and the Whites’ new little puppy, a little Schnauzer come running out and got close to me. They were playing with each other. Skip seemed to be enjoying being a big brother to the little puppy. He looked over at me and didn’t even get upset. He kept on playing.

I made a noise in the brush I was dealing with and again he just looked over my way for a moment and went back playing.

The little Schnauzer would smell around the grass and find a little stick or something small and run up to Skip and show it to him and Skip would playfully pretend he was going to take it away from him. Then they would slowly walk around and sniff and inspect things… occasionally playfully and lightly biting on each other. Skip looked happy and content.

What a change!


This is Anna’s late aunt Barbara (1922-1998).

She is on the car’s right fender, which is your left.

I like the picture. It reminds me of my teenage socializing years when more time was spent sitting on fenders than in chairs.

The wonder if the carmakers realized that they were changing a whole concept of American's youth social behavior when they started making cars that you could no longer sit on the car exteriors?

Monday, May 21, 2007

The Last Word

When you have a disagreement with somebody does it really matter who has the last word?

If you are Hell-bent on getting in the last word does that make you right? I think both you and your adversary are going to walk away with the same feelings you two had before the argument began, regardless of who was right and/or aggressive enough to get the last word in.

So, there!

DVDs of the Weekend

We watched a couple of DVDs this weekend.

Anna received for Mother’s Day the DIXIE CHICKS’ SHUP UP & SING dvd. It was a documentary, done OFFICE –style, from the triggering event where Natalie made the statement at a London concert that they were ashamed President Bush was from Texas. And all the harassing and boycotting since then. The country music radio stations have banned them, which seems totally unfair, but I just about understand because it is an economic decision – if they played the Dixie Chicks music on air, then they would be boycotted…. Cowardly, yes, but smart financially.

The politically far right who pitched such a shit fit just plainly believe if you are critical of your president you are anti-American. Funny, I don't think they believed that when Clinton was in office. But they do when their man is there.

It is a good candid documentary with a good deal of music by chicks and included their spouses, band members, and their toddlers toddling around.

On Bird's suggestion, we rented NIGHT AT THE MUSEUM which was very entertaining. It takes place in New York City, mostly after hours at the Museum of Natural History when the clay and plastic figures come to life and have the mind-set or mind-frame of whom they represent, such as Teddy Roosevelt (Robin Williams). It has a dab of history in it – I don’t think you could watch it without learning something historical that you didn’t know before. It was an enjoyable flick – it wasn’t all that serious… which make escapism enjoyable.

The main character is Ben Stiller. Who is the new night guard. By the way, the lady at the employment agency who connected him with the job is in real life his real mother Anne Meara, who is half of the husband & wife comedy team with Ben’s father Jerry Stiller, who played George’s emotional time-bombed father in SEINFIELD.

I don’t think I have seen Jerry Stiller and Anne Meara play as a comedy team for years. We were talking about that just a week or so ago – wondering what happened to her. Now we know, nothing.

Sunday, May 20, 2007

Genealogy Stuff

Genealogy is like a box of chocolates – you never know what you are going to get – -distorted quote from Forrest Gump.

Yesterday I input the data on about 100 of my distant Trammell relatives from my Family Tree program onto my Legacy Genealogy program.. Most of the names were just names and dates of a Trammell branch in Arkansas.

There were two Trammells that had nuggets of surprise:

Isaac Van Buren Trammell (1863-1924) married Julia Cassandra Wallace 18 November 1900, in Gentry, Benton Co., Arkansas.

They had eight children.

Here is the kicker:

Isaac was blinded at the age of 17. He hit his eyes on a peg in the barn. He was able to do many things. He got around on a horse that was blind friendly to him.

Although my information did not say, he probably supported his family, as was the manly thing to do. I wonder what he did?

Now that is someone you have to admire.

The other was Lonnie Trammell (1888-1924). Nonnie married Beatrice Balswick.

The kicker:
Lonnie was a deputy sheriff in Gentry, Arkansas. He tried to break up a fight at Sigmund's Restaurant between Sigmund and Lonnie's father-in-law. Lonnie got shot and died.

Not that it matters, but Lonnie and Isaac died the same year.

Saturday, May 19, 2007

Mechanical Aid for the Natural Look

Friday we went to the mall.

Not once, not twice, but several times I saw females walk by me with low cut blouses on that their boobs bobbed with they walk. The low-cuts were so low, I think what they exposed were more than cleavages. They seemed to bob like a floating on water, each was riding its own wave – they were not riding the same wave. When one partially exposed boob would lightly bounce up the other one was bouncing down.

That made me wonder if Victoria’s Secret or Frederick’s of Hollywood has a new bra out that has a little battery power motor that more or less juggles the boobs. The little machine pushed one up and let the other one lower itself by gravity… then, it’s the other boob’s time for a ride. To use to make it look natural, one must only turn the “On” switch before walking.

Then, all the old buzzards like me are in for a pleasant show.

Then I was wondering what if a girl with such a bra on forgot she had the motorized garment on and scratched her armpit and activated the motor. Maybe, possibly, she would run into somebody she knew and stop to chat with them and as she talked and smiled she was unaware her boobs were bobbing up and down her chest.

How do you be polite and not look at such a spectacular?

Armed Forces Day

Today is Armed Forces Day. You will have a HAPPY one!!!
Do you understand??!!!!

Seriously, we could not do without the men in the Armed Forces, we really couldn't.

Have Gun, Will Travel

As I promised (or threatened), here is an installment of pictures of graves that I clicked while combing through cemeteries. This picture was taken at Antioch Baptist Church in Union County, Georgia.

The tall marker on the right is James V. Lance and the one on the left is James’ wife. James is/was the son of Samuel Riley Lance. Sam married Rebecca Hunter, daughter of my progenitor John Hunter.

How Samuel Riley Lance made Union County his home is an interesting story – here goes:

A friend of his (Samuel R. Lance), whose name has long since been forgotten, was to have a duel with a fellow from Union County, and as fate would have it he became sick, not being able to fill the appointed date. Dueling custom has it that if you are sick you have the right to name a replacement, so Samuel Lance, being noted as a fighting man, was chosen to fight in his stead. He came to Union County by request, to uphold the honor of a friend, fought the duel and won, leaving his adversary, against whom he had no malice, lying motionless up the ground.
He came to Union County in the Spring of 1839. He returned to Buncombe County and told his brothers and moved his family one year later.
August of 1870 - Sam Riley Lance; his sons James Debarris, Andrew, and John; and his son-in-law John Frady did call on Joseph Henson, and as the indictment in court did say, "Fight, whoop, holler, and curse, and attempt to go into the house of said in a violent and tumultuous manner" because of what he said about one of the members of the family.

Samuel Riley Lance had a some notable descendants such as the poet Byron Hubert Reece and politician/statesman Bert Lance.

Friday, May 18, 2007

The Loose Congregation of Hogback Mountain

No, this has no relation to Brokeback Mountain.

While still on the subject of Cartersville, Cass County, aka Bartow County, Georgia: Before there was a Bartow County there was a Cass County and before Cass County there was an Indian center with a population of about 5000 Indians near the Etowah River with seven big Indian Mounds. Indians came from miles around to trade and for spiritual reasons.

On top of the highest mound, once a year, during the morning sunrise a solstice takes place. As the sun rises it shoots a certain mystic looking sunbeam by the Allatoon Mountains and lights up Hogback Mountain. You have the feeling of having a religious experience.

The one time a year this event takes place a bunch of people gather at sunrise on the largest mound and welcomes in the beam…. I don’t know, but somehow I equate with the beam that lit up the model city in the movie Indian Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Art.

The people that gather are the type of people that might be mistaken by hippies by their attire. They are a loosely organized religious bunch. They believe in Mother Earth, brotherhood, sisterhood, no bombs, no bullets, peace, and no Coca-Cola.

Have you ever heard of such nonsense?

Greenville's wives

I am reading the book THIRTEEN MOONS by Charles Frazier (COLD MOUNTAIN). I have just started it. Near the beginning, which I just read, he, the first person, told of how his father died, he was crossing Pigeon River in a wagon and the whole rig flipped over, pinning him under water, where he drowned.

That reminded me of my ancestor Mary Polly Taylor Pullen (c1790 – bef 1850). She was married to Greenville Pullen, Sr. When the area north of the Chattahoochee River was opened to the white man Greenville Pullen had a land lottery tract of land in Cass County (now Bartow). Georgia. The family hitched up their oxen and traveled north from their home in Dekalb, Georgia. On the way, they came upon a baby sitting along side the road, they picked it up and it immediately became a Pullen child. He grew up with the Pullen children and was just another sibling of them, and also he was included in the will, like the rest.

I strayed off the subject. Anyway, while traveling to Cass County, they came upon a river, which was probably the Etowah River which while crossing they had a problem – this is what I wrote in my genealogy information about Mary Ann:
There is a family story that the Pullen traveled with two other families to Cass County in a covered wagon and while fording a river the Pullens' oxen became frightened and entangled. It was Mary Polly, not one of the men, who swam in the water to loosen their yoke in order to cross safely.
-Paul Pullen (in his Pullen book).

In today's times Mary Polly Taylor Pullen would probably be the one to fix the flat tire.

Not that it has anything to do with the Mary Polly and the Oxen in the river story, but interesting anyway: Mary Ann died before 1850. Greenville Pullen, Sr., moved to Whitefield County, Ga. (the Dalton area), and married the second time to Mary Ann Miller.

Mary Ann Miller was blind and noted so on the census. I am wondering if Greenville Pullen, Sr., was a very ugly man? And also, when, as all married couples do, when they had a very unpleasant conversation, did Greenville make raspberry’s faces in front of her or maybe made obscene gestures?

Thursday, May 17, 2007

Aunt Annie

This is my great aunt Annie Tyson Crowder (1893-1979) as a teenager. She and my grandmother were sisters. The way she is holding those flowers she looks like a disenchanted teenager. She was born between Woodstock and Acworth in the area of Hwy 92 and Bells Ferry Road. She married Tom Crowder and they lived in the Fair Oaks area of Marietta. They had two children. One, a daughter, never married and her son was killed in WWII. Her son and his wife had a son named Terry which Annie had a great love for. Terry is one of those who only gets to see his birth date come around every four years. What day of what month was he born?

Terry and I were playmates in the 40s.

His mother remarried the heir of a big-name food company. And they moved away. I saw him at his aunt’s funeral in the 90s, and I am not sure he remembered me, although we played together almost every day for a couple of years.

Somebody ought to write an article about me in The Reader’s Digest under the title, “The Most Forgettable Character I Have Ever Met.”

Still Alive

The other day in the Atlanta Journal and Constitution’s obituaries I read that an ex-coworker Robert England, age 67, had died.

Robert and I worked in the same office in the Atlanta Postal Source Data Center and Time Keeping for about 15 years. We didn’t work together. I mostly worked at night and he always worked in the day time. But we shared pleasantries and gossip anyway.

And we were two of the only four white boys in the office.

Robert and I were distantly related. He was born in Union County, Georgia. Some of the children of my ancestor John Hunter and some of the children of Richard England married each other, and their children inter-married, and after years of that kind of carry-ons you have a Royal line.

Surprisingly, all the inbreeding that occurred did not bring out the worse of the genes but the best of the genes. Most of the Hunters and Englands I met at reunions in Union County college graduates and a good portion of them educators.

Robert was from Union County but lived in expensive Dunwoody, one of the exclusive suburbs near Atlanta. How he could afford that on a postal salary I will never know. And he dressed in yuppie clothes too.

One time in the mid 90s we ran into Robert and his wife at a country store in the very community in Union County that our infested. Robert said he had just retired.

In 2001 I was in that same store when showing Bluto that section of Georgia and a big Li’l Abner type of lug behind the cash register wanted to talk University of Georgia football with me and I realized I was wearing a UGA Bulldog ball cap, so I faked it.

When I read the obituaries and see that friends, co-workers, or relatives die I usually call someone that knew the person that had died and we could share a few moments talking about the deceased.

But, in this case I had a sudden realization. I may the last living one of 35 technicians that is still standing. I left there in about 1981 and transferred to Marietta. Then I was the youngest.

Each person I thought of to call – “nope, he/she is dead too”. There was one person I am not sure about, Catherine C., which I called “CC”. The last time I heard from her she called me to tell me an ex-coworker, Chuck had died. That was about ten years ago. CC was is about 12 years older than I, which now, would translate that she is about 77 years of age.. chances are she is dead too. I hope not.

One interesting thing about CC was she belonged to an aggressive black church and she was an “Usherette” and they all dressed alike, kind of like the a group of harmonizers would dress alike or something. The church had no male ushers. I think the idea was that perky female probably would get people to reach deeper in their wallets during collecting the plate time.

I thought about finding her number on the internet’s White Pages but just haven’t.. I hate to find out she is dead too, if she is. As it is now, she is still alive in my mind.

At one time it was fun being the youngest person of your co-workers, but in the end It is lonely.

Wednesday, May 16, 2007

Patient! Heal Thyself!

I am back home. To make a long story short: I went to Kennestone-Wellstar Hospital to have a catherization. On a recent nuclear stress test they found that I may be having a problem with the same artery in my heart as I did the last time and they put a medicated stent into to hold the thing opened. It appeared in the nuclear stress test x-rays that the artery had collapsed again. By going in, catherization style the doctor could poke around and look closely with his little camera more directly what the problem was.

Well, believe it or not, my heart gave itself its own heart-bypass. The artery did closed up where the stent is. However, just before the closed area 3 or 4 little fingers of arteries created themselves and stretched over to wherever the blood flow was suppose to be. It is as good of a bypass one can get.

The doctor had a dry wit, he said, “It was nice doing business with you.”

When I went on a tour of Mudd Island on the Mississippi River I was told that Old Man River is always making bypasses, in a natural way, and it happened to me too! Wow!

Okay, now to make a long story long:

Monday Anna and I went to the pre-ops at the doctor’s office and also the hospital. We were there before 7:30. We signed in and had a seat in the waiting room. The same lady that was working behind the counter seeing people signed in and had their insurance forms in order was the same lady that was meeting the elevator when the doors opened. She had double duty…. If behind the counter if she heard the “ding” of the elevator she rushed out in the foyer to greet the people stepping out and ready to give them directions.

“Is that her?” Anna asked. She read my blog.

I said, “No, it was a little early for her – she runs late.”

Then a young yuppie-jock like man came in and relieved the counter girl. He wasn’t her either. But, he did a better job… not once did he dance like Dorothy in Wizard of Oz or play like he was a landing airplane.

A few minutes after 8:00 she came rushing in, in a scattered brain way, and I told Anna, “That’s her”.

While sitting in the waiting room an old man came in and signed in. The lady at the counter repeated the name “Beverly Jones?” The old man had a hearing aid in still didn’t hear well.

I forgot what he said, but when the elevator guy gave him directions he said something in the way of meaning he didn’t understand him, but in a such a way that I thought was funny and typical of someone not hearing well.

The lady behind the counter continued talking, “Tell your wife she has a balance of blablabla.” He said something again, to prove he couldn’t hear well.

The lady said, “It says right here your wife Beverly Jones owes a balance of….”

The old man said, “I’m Beverly Jones”. Hah! Beverly for a man, just like a Boy Named Sue. I bet he had to say that sentence a lot through his life…sometimes with gritted teeth.

His daughter came in within a couple of minutes and straightened out the outstanding amount… she had her statements out and had proof check number by check number she paid – it was them in error. Keep good records. It won’t come back and haunt you like bad records do.

A lady eventually came and got us and made sure we had everything in order and gave us my “orders” to go to the hospital for a pre-op.

The Hospital is so big and complex now we didn’t even change parking places or see the outside sun. We walked over to the hospital through a suspended above the street passageway.

We went into the registration office as directed and there was a long counter stations with chairs in front. An elderly volunteer quickly showed us where to sit and pulled out chairs for both us. He did his job well.

The lady that waited on us made sure we had the right paperwork and insurance forms and took down all the information then sent us to the lab for blood work. There as the nurse took blood she and I somehow had a conversation of bad things that we love that we know are good for us but eat them anyway, like the taste outweighs the dangers. I talked about ribs and barbecue. She loved cheese melted on everything and real bacon to complement everything…. We were talking true love. A quiet Mexican sat there and didn’t say a word…. Just give him cash, cold cash, over ribs, or bacon anytime.

After that we went shopping and went to see the movie SPIDERMAN III. It was good… as someone said it is more of a chick-flick than his other’s has been…. Also, as someone said, the special effects are tremendous…. It was all enjoyable…. And it was easy to remember it wasn’t real.

The next day I was to report at the hospital at 11:00. And my procedure was to be at 1:00. Anna let me out at the door and she went looking for a parking place. I was going to take a special elevator up to a certain tower. The problem was I was going to have to walk by the same elderly trying to please volunteer that slid my chair out for me the day before. I didn’t want to tell him where I was going, afraid he would rush down the hall in front of me to press the elevator button. He was sitting in a chair ready to spring up and ask me and then, I quickly ducked into the gift shop and looked for a post card, which they didn’t have. Then, looking out the door when the volunteer sprung up to help someone else to the counter and offering them a chair I sprung out and went down to the elevator.

When I go up to the tower – I think they called it the Purple Tower – Adam was already there. Anna would show up soon as well as Rocky and my two sisters.

I was put in a little room. The nurse was extremely nice and efficient. She would let family members come back only two at a time. Which all up to the time of I was to go to the operating area, I had my immediate kin near by…. two at a time.

Once while the nurse, a black lady, was putting in IVs and all she was telling me she spent eight years in the Air Force. I said, “You were an officer weren’t you?”

Proudly she nodded and said, “I sure was.”

As we talked she told me she has been married two years. Any children? No. I said we waited about seven years before we had kids. She said, they didn’t want to have children.

I thought should I jump in meddle? Nope, that is their decision based on what they want, so I will keep my mouth shut. Which, I think she appreciated. We had a nice rapport.

An older lady came in and helped with the prepping. She told me she was going have to shave cut my hair “down there”…. She repeated herself, saying “down there”. Then she cut “down there” commenting on hair much hair I had. Well, what could I say to that? Ah, I know: “Can you glue a some of that to the top of my head?”
She cackled. Mission accomplished.

Then, they came and got me to take me into the operating area. They wheeled me by the waiting room and all my kin walked along with us down a long corridor and crossed over to the Green Tower…. I was just glad we didn’t go into the Dark Tower.

I was put in another holding area. It was in a colder room. I laid there and watched nurses come and go down the hall. Eventually it seemed they all wandered into one room and came out with a slice of cake and coffee. I would have love to have either one. In the other room had to change into nothing but a gown. I wonder if they would have noticed if I casually walked in the room with the goodies with my ass peeking out through the slit in the back, and help myself to the coffee and cake? I doubt if I would have fit in.

One nurse came in and lifted my gown and said I wasn’t shaved close enough. With a disposable plastic razor she even got closer. I’m sure “down there” has less stubble than a peach now. How many more female nurses were going to look “down there?”

Another nurse, stood out from the rest because she had a solid pink top on.. a pink sweater or something. She was hyper and full of energy. She sung show tunes, she danced as she went up and down the hall. She was slim and wore big glasses that seemed to complement her look. Sometimes she would sway her hips in wide motions as she sung her own songs. I enjoyed watching her, she had life.

Then the nurse in the pink top came and told me it was time to go.

Two. I asked myself above how many more nurses were going to look at my privates. Two. The dancing singing girl in pink and another girl. They each took a side and prep me some more and installed the catherization thing. The girl in pink asked me did I like her singing and didn’t I think she sung like blablabla (I didn’t catch the name). I told her I liked her singing and her dancing.

Everybody on the hospital staff we dealt with were very efficient and polite.

After it was over with and I was discharged a rather talkative black lady, a nurses aid, helped me in a wheelchair to wheel me to the door, where Anna would pick me, she was sent a head. While she was helping me on the TV was CNN news reporting 3 Americans missing and some more killed. She shook her head and said that was a mess over there... "really a big mess."

I said, "You can say what you want, but I think none of this would have happened, and we would be just as safe if Bush hadn't sent us over there looking for Weapons of Mass Destruction that were not there."

She said, "Thank you! That's what I'm talking about!"

I told you the rest, which was the bottom line in the first paragraph, which was just about the top line which is not the bottom line… I’m confused.

Monday, May 14, 2007

Who Is Going To Feed the Hogs?

One time years ago we bought a record album (yes, an LP) of Charlie Rich BEHIND CLOSED DOORS.

BEHIND CLOSED DOORS was the key song on the album but there were other songs we were introduced to which were also good, but just didn’t make the big time.

One song was “Who Is Gong To Feed My Hogs?” It is about the Charlie, being laid up in the hospital had a roommate that wasn’t so much concerned about himself as much as concerned with who was going to feed his hogs.

I know how he feels, in a way. I don’t have any hogs, but I do take feeding the birds and the little furry critters seriously.

We will be gone, so there will not be any bird seed, spicy sunflower seed, corn cracklings, Indian corn, safflower seed, raw peanuts, suet, or a blog postings for a few days.

I shall return.

Sunday, May 13, 2007

Postal Reminder

Remember, today is the last day you can use your 39 cents stamps to cover the fare of a first class letter.

If you have a bill or a letter you haven't mailed, today you will be saving 2 cents than if you wait until tomorrow.

Aunty Fanny's Cabin and Smyrna, Ga

Friday while Anna was at a haircutting appointment , I went to a couple of places in downtown Smyrna. While I am reading the book PAPER BOY by Pete Woods about the genealogy of each house, street by street, I like to on occasion, see what I am reading about.

Did you know Julia Roberts is from Smyrna, Georgia? Sure ‘nuff.

I first drove through a few neighborhoods recognizing the streets I read about and who lived in the older houses on the streets. Then, I went to the Smyrna Library and caught up with a couple of magazines such as MAD and NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC.

MAD has just about outgrown itself. The art is getting sophisticated. It is getting too dignified to carry on its madcap humor. It appears now it’s target audience is the 20 year old female that doesn’t date.

I flipped through two NATIONAL GEOGRAPHICs. Did you know the person who married Pocahontas – I think his last name is Roth, or similar – introduced a certain type of earthworms to the American Continent that now is very common – it might be the Wigglers?

Also in another NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC a burying place in Peru, near a city, a burial place for pet dogs have been dug up. Each dog was buried with a hearty amount of dog food for his stay in eternity. And, each dog was a certain type of dog, blondish hair, similar to a Golden Retriever. The same kind of stray dog that mostly roam around the same area today. So, it is very probably the dogs that are buried there are ancestors of the present strays. The dog food was llama meat.

I wonder why the doggie burial grounds were exclusive only to the blond-stray type? Maybe the blond stray dogs themselves created the graveyard…. And just keeping it in the family and a secret – until now.

Not far away from the Smyrna Library is the Smyrna History Museum, which is converted from an old railway depot. I was the only visitor. The tall aged curator was glad to see me and gave me a personal tour. We spent almost an hour talking about old Smyrna old Marietta and old land marks. He belongs to a camera club. He has talked his group into making pictures of old landmarks and old houses and buildings, barns, etc., in and near Smyrna.

I told him I was glad they were doing that. I told him it is just about getting weekly that I notice another old house or building demolished to make ways for the new, and every time I cursed myself for not taking a picture of it – I just sort of accepted it was suppose to be there – then one day it wasn’t there anymore. Sad. We both agreed it was sad.

He asked me if I remember Windy Bagwell. I said yes, I said I used to pass by his place everyday to and from work. Windy Bagwell’s place was a whole sale furniture company, but if I remember right he sold all kinds of junk and cheap stuff that he would buy at cheap prices for big quantities.

Windy Bagwell was also a musician and had his own group. They had a couple of songs that were popular back in the 50s. That is what the curator was leading up to. Someone last week donated some Windy Bagwell LPs to the museum. He had a record player hooked up, and he put on a Windy Bagwell record. It was old fashion music.

The curator said, “now that is music you can understand the words”. And we sat back and enjoyed a few songs. He told me he has a group and they visit different senior centers and nursing homes and sing.

“Gospel music?” I asked.

“No, just must you can understand the words… a lot of show tunes”. He said. I was going ask him did they do “HAIR” but decided not to.

He opened a door and showed me a office with a computer and said there is a lot of information to be input in their system but he wasn’t that technical minded. I told him I wasn’t either, but I was consistent about inputting data. I told him I might talk to him about volunteering to input some of the data for him… I would have to think about it.

Next to the museum is a make believe restaurant named “Aunt Fannie’s Cabin”. I asked him was it the original that was disassembled and moved here and reassembled or a replica. He said it was the original taken apart and put back together again.

I told him years ago when my father was chief of the Cobb County Police Aunt Fanny’s Cabin was selling booze, which was illegal in dry Cobb County. Daddy led a raid on their illegal activity.

Then, Aunt Fanny’s Cabin was where the movie stars and high ranking politicians ate when they came to Atlanta. The walls were full of photographs of people like Clark Gable and the owner chatting at a table, of Suzan Hayworth and the owner. By the way, Susan Hayward was a frequent diner there, she was married to Eaton Chalkley, a local businessman and cattle farmer and lived not far away in Carrollton, Georgia.

Here is an article written in the Marietta Daily Journal shortly after my father’s death:

While we're writing about police, let's pay tribute to Ed Hunter a dedicated, honest officer of 50 years of service who died this week at 76.
Hunter was Cobb County Police chief under Commission Chairman Rholie Ward. When Ward went out of office, Hunter became Marietta police chief.
As county chief, Hunter was involved in an unforgetable incident. Thirty-five years ago, Cobb County was a dry county. If John Q. Citizen wanted a snort he had to "go to the river" to liquor stores in Fulton County along the Chattahoochee River.
But most private clubs in Cobb like the Elks, Legion, Moose, Marietta Country Club and at least two fashionable restaurants served liquor by the drink.
Hunter thought it hypocritical that his officers would arrest someone for having a scant of moonshine while liquor sales continued at private clubs.
So it wasn't surprising when Harvey Hester, the former Congressional Medal of Honor owner of Smyrna's Aunt Fanny's Cabin, rang up Hunter to ask him to arrest an employee who stole booze from the bar and stashed it away in the nearby woods.
Instead, Hunter sent a raiding party to Aunt Fanny's, booked Hester and confiscated a truck load of whiskey. Hunter didn't have a list of who not to arrest. If you violated the law, he arrested you.
By Bill Kinney is associate editor of The Marietta Daily Journal, Sunday, July 24, 1988.

About 3 BK of our married life Anna and I had dinner at Aunt Fanny’s Cabin. As I remember the food was good and an accent on southern type of cooking like fried chick, pork chops, turnip greens – well, you get the idea.

Remember, this restaurant attracted northerners because it was sooo southern. When Anna and I was seated a little black kid, about 8 years old, came up with a blackboard hanging by a little rope with the day’s specials. He shouted the menu to you. And we noticed he was a boy of mischief and a big black woman was always on his case, trying to get him to get back on course with his job – she kind of reminded me of Mammy in “Gone With The Wind”. I think it was all a show. The little kid was probably a smart little nerd that was good at memorizing the menu and the daily specials… and there were certain things to look for in the patrons…. To do a little mischief… all a programmed show.

Visit Smyrna!