I just posted on my flickr page pictures I took of the Bell Reunion in 2008. If you are in your late 60s or 70s chances are you will recognize some of these people. Also, if you know them well, you will see some that are no longer with us. One thing we all have in common, during our reunions we suddenly become elderly teenagers. Click below:
My blogging/MAD/ EC-Comics/Spirit Comics/did I miss any? buddy El Postino did just that on his blog Paranoia Strikes Deep.. I would tell you of our friendship, how it was nourished about 20 years ago but he El Postino already did that in my get-well post:. So, I might as well get some Blog mileage out of it too, right?:
Get well quick to my fellow Madman, Eddie
My friend, Eddie, is not feeling too well these days. He’s having some medical problems that we all hope can be taken care of soon. Ed and I met through the old Prodigy service, in 1992, when both we and computer technology were young. We introduced ourselves on a DOS-based bulletin board devoted to EC Comics and specifically Mad, of which we were both lifetime fans.
Eddie, like me, loves the inspired craziness of editor/writer Harvey Kurtzman and artist Will (then known as Bill) Elder. The title of Eddie’s blog, Chicken Fat, comes from the old Mad comics.
Here’s one of my favorite Mad stories, a spoof called “Frank N. Stein!” I scanned it from a comic book called The Nostalgic Mad. From 1972 through 1980 the publishers of Mad magazines produced eight issues reprinting the best of the classic comic book Mad, which they bound into their issues of Mad Special. This is from issue #15, 1974.
I hope it’ll help Eddie on his road to recovery. Get well soon, Ed!
Today is National Handshake Day. Handshakes make the word go around, Nation heads shake hands promising each other peace, people shake hand to start interacting, and the all levels of business deals are sealed with a handshake. If suddenly, we all stopped shaking hands, we all might implode.
Before I went into the Navy I worked at Eastman Atlantic Mfg
Co, on Chattahoochee Avenue, in Atlanta.
The branch manager had the worse grip of anybody I ever shook hands
with. I always felt a firm handshake was
a sign that they appreciated that they were shaking hands with me. The branch manager would present his hand, so
to speak, limp and dangling, did he
expect people to kiss it and then courtesy?
James Earl, Jr "Jamie" Prance and his mother Ruth, August 2010
Ruth Bruce Prance Nugent died Saturday at age 89. Ruth was Anna's aunt, Anna's father's brother's wife. She worked at Riches at Cobb Center in the
ladies finer coats and I hear she was a good saleslady. People asked for her.
I think the reason
she was such a good sales person is because I don't think she was as interested
in the product as she was you. She was
very much a person to person type of person.
When I first married into the family in 1967 I was very impressed on how
kind and friendly she was. And later,
when our first born Rocky came alone Ruth welcome him with opened arms and had
his grandparents bring him over to play at her house several times.
The last time I saw her was at Lowe's about a year ago. Her son Jamie was pushing her in a
wheelchair. I think she was in poor health then. Of course the wheelchair was a giveaway, another reason is that Jamie did all the talking for them - Ruth was not the type to let anyone do all the talking.
Several months ago, it might have been as early as fall of
last year, at the hospital's imaging center they discovered I had
gallstones. My GP recommended a
surgeon. We visited him and his main
question was, "do they bother you?"
He told us many people live a life time with gallstones and
never know they have them. But if I
wanted them out they would accommodate me.
It was my call. A cut in my
pretty stomach My call: NO.
Anna had hers out
about a year earlier when she found she had gallstones.
A wise choice I found out.
As the months continued I noticed at times when I pigged out
on fatty type of food, or something
heavily doused in mayonnaise I got a very stomach-bloated feeling and I had to
take it easy for the next day.
My bloatness times
increased. Did I get the message my body
was trying to send me? It was LOUD and
clear (if you get what I mean). Nope,
Good looking mouth watering food overruled any common sense that I may have.
Most recently at a sandwich shop near the hospital which we
eat at occasionally we had chicken salad
sandwiches. Mine was delicious . But as soon as I had eaten it I realized than
I had just been consumed by a big glob of
mayonnaise. Our roles were
reversed, the mayo was consumer and I
was the consumeree.
I was sick all the next day.
Then just a couple days later we went to an all you can eat
country-cooking buffet. That was on a
Monday. Tuesday morning I was sick and lifeless which lasted until Friday
or Saturday. By the way, if you are
interested in scientific experiments, again I proved that drinking a Coke to
settle your stomach is an old wives' tale, it is like throwing gasoline on to a
fire..... like I said that is not the first time I disproved that theory. It seems I would learn, doesn't it?
Saturday I had part
if a sandwich. I was trying to get well
for Fathers' Day the following day . or at least be able to fake it to smile
and talk during a meal. Our son and
daughter-in-law and we were going out.
Where they were here we decided instead of food I needed ER
treatment. We spent the rest of the
day in the ER and the next 5 days at the hospital.
When we arrived at the ER I was almost immediately sent to a
little room, placed in a wheel chair and someone took my vitals and asked how
come I was there so they would know what to look for. There were a few us lined up in little red
wheel chairs and the way they were painted and lined up it made be think we
were about to partake in a bumper car race.
A male nurse was getting the vitals from someone and he
asked the patient what was the problem, or why was he there. The man said he thought his hand was
"Why do you think
it is broken?"
"It hurts like it is broken."
"Did you bang it against something?"
"yes, I hit a wall with my first hard".
"Were you trying to hurt someone?"
"Was someone trying to hurt you?"
"Were you drinking?"
"Yes, I had a few beers.... look man, I didn't know I
was going to be questioned!"
"I have to ask you questions based on what you
An orderly grabbed my wheel chair and began to roll me
back. I wanted to say ask him to wait a
few minutes, I'll like to hear the rest of that conversation, but as discreet as I am, I said nothing.
From this point on the rest of our visit for the next five
and half days I found the hospital staff were very friendly and almost everyone
had a accent of some kind, I heard Doctor Zhivargo, those two wild and crazy
guys on Saturday night Live, Cisco and Puncho, Count Dracula, a KGB spy, and
lastly but not least a mixture of Beverly Hillbillies and Hee Haw.
Anna was back with me when we went back to the ER. We were put in a curtain cubical. There were three cubicles alongside the
wall. The good thing about curtain
cubicles you can overhear everything the
neighbors are saying and the bad thing is that the neighbors can overhear
everything you are saying.
A young man in the next cube was born in 1991. About 22 years old? By the conversation between him and his
medical giver he was in some kind of dirt bike a-rama thing near either Dallas or
Cartersville. The medic person asked him
about how many feet was he in free flight.... I took this as being flung from
his vehicle and was flying through the air.
He said, "about 70 feet."
"Yes - the jump
is 50 feet.... and bla bla
I wanted to holler out, "Speak out! I can't hear over here!"
And on the other side a young lady or teenager was pregnant. She just found out. She was estimated 7 months pregnant.
They determined I was having a gallstone attack. They could not just remove the gallbladder
because there were complications involved:
I am on Plavix, a blood thinner.
They would have to wait until the Plavix to wear off. Exactly when did I take my last Plavix
pill? That is easy, Saturday night. They said they could operate on probably
Thursday or Friday. The second item was my count, whatever that
is, and my temperature, and maybe one or two other symptoms which had the signature
of a renegade gallstone that might be plugging up a valve hole or
something. They would have the GI group
to give me a closer look by MRI and determine where that little rascal renegade
gallstone was and then a tube down through me somehow and mechanically pick it
The surgery coordinator I was assigned to put me on a
"nothing by mouth" diet.
Nothing by Mouth means nothing. I
got fluids through the iv and that was it.
Speaking of IVs, my iv tubing was continuously tangling itself up and it
would beep and beep until they came to
fix it. Finally it got where if I just
moved my arm slightly it would shot working and start beeping. The nurses
showed me how to press start again and press the iv selections. Which I'm sure they enjoyed their extra
time. One day it kept beeping and I
couldn't get it back running correctly and the nurse came in several times and
got it running but before she left good it would start beeping again. She told me I was just going to have to keep
my hand still. As she was telling me
this and my hand was in plain view being still, it started beeping again. She called the unit to have them come and jab
a new iv hole.
Speaking of holes in my arm, before the week was over both
my arms were full of holes and bruises.
I told the nurse drawing blood
when I left there if the cops pulled me over and they saw my arms my car
would be searched for sure.
I should note that I don't think anytime for those five
nights in the hospital I got over 20 minutes in a row of good sleep..... well,
For five day we saw a long list of professional medical
people to come and check on me. Members
of my cardiologist's staff, doctors and
nurses kept the door swinging, along with the GI team members, gastrologists
(?), one person with a plastic looking toy that he insisted I blow in every
hour, ten times, and one well fit doctor in his 30s who looked like the poster
child of an aggressive sportsman and
exerciser, bounded in one day, didn't identify himself, he just ask was I OK,
and I said, "Yeah, considering..." and before we could have a chuckle
over my wise-crack he was out the door before it even slung shut. Who was that man? I bet he is very self-centered and cried when
his Little League team lost and if he
ever made a mistake on the sporting field he managed to blame it on someone
else. I guess each of them saying "Howdy-you-do? will be priced and
invoiced and we start seeing statements from various medical groups will start
There were one lady that had an interesting air about her.
It seems she had a wry smile on her face all the time and seemed to sense the
ironic humor in humans
intermingling. She would usually ask me
if they did so and so, and based on what I said she elaborated. She had an accent and reminded me of a KGB
agent - she needed a trench coat to complete my
interpretation of her
One student nurse came through one day with the nurse
watching everything she did and wrote it down and sometimes asked her why she
did something. She was a very serious
learner. Later that same day she came
back and ask if I mind if she ask me some questions about my illness, which I
truthfully answered everything she asked.
Somehow it came out that she loved dogs and she has a part whippet and
part something else, but looks like a pit bull dog. While we were in such a jovial mood talking
about our dogs we asked her if she had any children. She was taken by our question and was silent
for a few moments.... damn, what did we say wrong? Then she finally spoke, saying one thing as
a nurse she was taught is not to divulge too much private information about
yourself. Then, she broke her own
self-imposed rule and told us she was pregnant.
We congratulated her. She left and we didn't see her again.
The older nurses seemed to have cared less about divulging
or TMI. Bah!
During my near-week at the hospital over the PA system they
announced "Town Hall Meeting" in the auditorium two to four times a
day. One nurse told me she had been
there 31 years and has yet attended one of those meetings, she said she had to
eat her lunch working, do I think she was going to waste her work time hearing
about the hospital long range plans? She
shooed the thought away like swatting a fly.
Just like the Wheels of Justice move slowly, so do the
Wheels of Medicine. One group can't make their move until the group ahead of them do their thing.
But the day we thought the GI people should do their
exploring we had the nurse to call and asked when they were going to do
me. They said they had no paper work on
me. Back to the drawing board.
Finally that day or the next they came and did my MIR. The thing is by the time they got the orders
and did the MRI the little renegade gallstone had moved on, probably flushed
away with the water the IVs has been dripping into me. And my temperature was back to normal and so
were the numbers.
My surgery to have the gallbladder removed was
Thursday. A team came in and made sure I
was properly cleaned, stripped down with no clothes except my hospital gown,
watch removed, and ring we
compromised. I was rolled onto a
gurney and down the corridors and elevators and down more corridors until we
reached the operating complex. While
being pushed looking ahead I thought it would be neat to have my camera with me
to video the trip down the halls, you see lots of people mulling about talking,
reading orders, reading newspapers, and just hanging out. It would make an interesting video. Then I thought of how I would look holding a
video being gurneyed down the hall and I was reminded me I only had on a
hospital gown. Damn, when the people
looked up to see the gurney noise what all did they see flapping in the wind go
In the operating staging cubicles again we had fabric cubicles
that you could hear other people talk.
One guy with a very loud voice was telling someone with him he does all
kinds of workouts every day in a gym and so far this year has ran over 19,000
miles. He said an actual number, like
19,745 but I didn't retain it, I wasn't compulsive over his stats as he
was. But I do know he said he ran at
least 19,000 miles this year. That was
June 20. June 20 was the 171st day of
2013. If you divide 19,000 by 171 you
will see that the guy was claiming to average slightly over 111 miles each
That is a lot of time improving one's body for endurance,
which is commendable but when did he find time for just routine daily routines
like sleep, eating, yard work, whatever.
As he told whomever he was talking to, "I'm the real thing!"
Well, as long as he is still talking he will always have a
favorite subject to talk about.
The operation went smoothly, or I suppose it did. I only remember them putting me back in my
hospital bed back in my room.
Additional to my IV they hooked me up to some additional devices or
gadgets. I had an oxygen breathing tube,
both lower parts of my legs wrapped in air tubes that was tighten up whenever they felt it was
needed, which was about every ten or fifteen minutes, and maybe a heart
monitor, I forgot.
With all the tubes and wires wrapped around me I found it
almost impossible to urinate. There was
a plastic urinal by the bed for my convenience but found it hard and
complicated to use. The wires and tubes
were pulled tight and some was in a tangle.
It was hard to stand at the edge of my bed and pee into the plastic
urinal. I had to stoop over balanced on
one leg with the other pulled upward by the tubes. They were trying to flush me so was pumping
fluids by the IV to I was forced to pee about once an hour, and each time I had
to do an acrobatic act.
Now, I had a tube coming out of my stomach into an overflow
bottle, so I could not lay on my side. I
cannot sleep on my back. From exhaustion
a couple of times I almost nodded off to sleep only to gently woken by the
feeling of huge snakes coiling around my legs.
After a whole night without a wink of sleep a doctor the
next morning was telling me what an great invention the tubes around the legs
are, he said that will keep you from having cramps. I told him that thing kept me awake when I
could be sleeping and which is more valuable a stroke from sleep deprivation or
no leg cramps? He looked at me with a
frozen smile and left with his
I was released Friday with an overflow tube attached to a
little bottle, which I will have to have remove early in the week. I am gradually getting my appetite and energy
back. Now, it only hurt when I giggle. PS - One thing I almost forgot, a nurse was helping me one day and was getting me ready for bed and giving me the proper medicines and she asked me, "Do they give you Tylenol at the Home?"
This article written by editor Harvey Kurtzman and illustrated by Will Elder almost caused the end of HELP Magazine. It's target was the PLAYBOY Lifestyle. However, the ARCHIE publisher was more offended than PLAYBOY publisher Hugh Hefner. Go figure.
I received an
email from Larry's wife Milly Miller. Here is a portion of it:
you for re-posting Larry’s fund raising letter so frequently. I wanted to let
you know that we have been blessed to receive the maximum matching amount of
$10,000. This gives us $20,000 with the matching funds and we believe it should
be enough to pay for his prescription drugs as long as my insurance is as good
as it is now. That’s a big question with the state of our current health care
issues but we have reason to rejoice right now and thank everyone for their
help. PS: he is doing AWESOME. All of
his bronchoscopy’s have shown, no infection, no rejection. That is the best you
can get. His blood work continues to be very good also. Can’t wait to see
everyone again, minus the oxygen tanks.
This has been posted many times. Everyday when
I had a new post this one slides down more out of view. When it slides off the
page it is time to repost. Hi!
Have you ever faced a life-threatening illness for which there is no treatment
Have you ever become overwhelmed by the costs of your illness?
Have you ever had to rely on your family and friends to make a life-saving
difference on your behalf?
Larry faced these conditions all at once. Larry was diagnosed with Pulmonary Fibrosis,
Emphysema, and Pulmonary Hypertension. There are no treatments for these
diseases and there was no hope for him without a lung transplant.
Larry was evaluated and approved for a bi-lateral lung transplant at Emory
University Hospital in April.
On May 14th Larry received the call from Emory
saying they had lungs for him. His transplant was performed on the 15th with
excellent results. Due to the generosity of the donor’s family, he received a
very healthy set of young lungs (to use the surgeon’s words). Larry is
recovering exceedingly well and was released to go home on the 31st of May. He
is gaining strength each day by following his drug regimen very carefully and
by following a vigorous program of Pulmonary Rehabilitation.
His recovery is great news, but with it comes enormous annual costs for
post-transplant treatments and medications. I have known Larry and been his
friend since the 5th grade (1953) so I offered to head up his fundraising
committee. We are working to help Larry raise money to cover some of these
costs. Fortunately, Larry qualified for a matched account in the Georgia
Transplant Foundation’s (GTF) Fundraising Program, GTF will match every dollar
we raise up to a maximum of $10,000, and then they will hold the money and
administer the distribution for Larry’s medication expenses.
We need Your Support to reach the $10,000 Goal! Please consider making a
donation to help us raise the funds Larry will need to buy post-transplant
medications which will support the maintenance of his transplant.
How to Donate:
Checks/money orders should be made payable to Georgia Transplant Foundation
with Larry’s name in the memo section of your check. Please mail checks/money
orders to Georgia Transplant Foundation, Attention: Transplant Fundraising Program,
500 Sugar Mill Road, Suite 107-A, Atlanta GA 30350. An envelope is enclosed for
your convenience. Thank you for supporting this life-saving campaign.
The Georgia Transplant Foundation, a non-profit
organization that provides financial, educational, and emotional assistance to
Georgia’s transplant community, is assisting us in our fundraising efforts. If
you have questions or want further verification, please see the Georgia
Transplant Foundation website at www.gatransplant.org or email TFP@gatransplant.org.
If you have already made a donation, please accept our thanks.
This is from the pages of EC Comics' Weird Fantasy. The art is by Al Williamson,, who was a legend in science-fi and Fantasy Art.
The story was either co-wrote by Publisher Bill Gaines and editor Al Feldstein or it was plagiarized by the same two. They openly admitted they stole stories and ideas, they said everybody did in the comic industry.
My grandfather Frank Paris Hunter 1879 - 1950). Frank was born in Granbury, Hood County,
Texas, and died in Marietta, Georgia, at the old hospital.
He was just a babe in arms when his family moved back east in 1879). I believe his name was named after their trip, between Paris and Franklin, NC. They settled near Woodstock, Georgia. Back in 1864 his father William A. Hunter was
shot in the knee at the Battle of Kennesaw Mountain, and recuperated in a
private home in Woodstock. He made
friends, he knew he and his family would be welcome.
Frank spent most his formative years near Woodstock in the
Hwy 92 and Bells Ferry area. He married
a neighbor Minnie Tyson. They had nine
children, eight boys and one daughter.
Frank's occupation was machinist. He worked for Kraft Foods, The Atlanta
Newspapers, and Glover Machinery, within walking distance of their house.
Minnie died in
1948. Frank was alone. We moved in with him. I was about 7 years old.
Frank taught me how to ride a bike and other joys of growing
up paling with your grandpaw.
We had a fireplace in the living room. It was the only heat we had. It was in located in the center of the house,
it kept all the rooms warm. Frank got up
before everyone else and started the fire in the fireplace. The fuel was coal.
I was usually the second one up. One morning I got up and the fire was going
and I backed up to the fireplace - a spark popped out of the fireplace and
landed on my pajama bottom and instantly my pj bottom ignited into flames. Frank grabbed me and flung me on the floor
and rolled me. I never seen him act to
strangely and rough. He scared me, but I
don't think I realized I was on fire.
When the action was over my legs and lower torso was
burned. I don't remember being rushed to
the hospital, normally my family avoided the hospital whenever possible.
My grandfather Frank Paris Hunter probably saved my life that morning.
He died not long after that.
He and Minnie are buried at Mountain View Cemetery, in Marietta, Georgia.
In the news lately there has
been some talk about a local municipality
giving bonuses to workers with good attendance. It is a
method to decrease absenteeism and tardiness. It is a ploy to get people to do what they
are suppose to do anyway.
It reminded me of my working days at the Atlanta Post
Office. My reporting time was
midnight. I always allowed myself a
leeway in case of wreck or some other
Also in our office was a lady named Alice Allen. Alice was always about ten to fifteen minutes
late and called in sick a lot. She was
even late when she called in sick.
According to a formula it was time for her to be suspended for bad
attendance. There are steps before
somebody is suspended. First
a verbal talking to, next a warning letter, then a ten day
suspension, then a two week suspension,
then 30 days, then out the door.
The supervisor liked Alice and didn't want to go through all
that with her. He, she, and I met. She said she just had a lot of running around
to do in the day time and when she finally got to bed she would oversleep. The boss said that since I am there anyway,
about 30 minutes before my reporting time would I, as soon as I walked in call
Alice and wake her up. She did not live
that far away. Alice was a good friend
so I was willing to help her, so I said "sure".
I started my off the clock duty as soon as I got in to the
office I called and woke her up each night
. I got creative and would tell
her a joke or a bit of gossip. And her
attendance improved, not perfectly, but it did improve.
Then one night our boss called a meeting. He got us all in the same room and he presented Alice Allen with incentive award of
$250 for the best improved attendance.
Later that night I asked our boss how come I didn't get an
award, my attendance was perfect. He
laughed and said the award was for "improved attendance" and I had
not improved my attendance, how could I?
It was perfect already.
The Woodstock Concert - you heard of that before . This Woodstock concert was different, there was not much of a pot smell in the air (but some); no openly drinking; no dancing in the mud; and quiet a few pairs of uniformed officers to make sure people followed the rules - This was Woodstock, Georgia. There was a Saturday Night Fever in the air and a whole lot of shaking going on of young and old.
We enjoyed the company of Joe and Christine Jenkins. Not only did we enjoy their company, we enjoyed their snacks!
The main band was YACHT ROCK REVUE, which they were good, they knew how to handle their instruments. They turned the audience into dancing groupies.
But I must admit, I am a little out of touch of the feel of being part of a big crowd. I saw a kid catch a big beachball and he tossed it to his friend close by and the kid hit it and with many feet away. That is mean! I thought, and I was about to run and chase down the ball, retrieve it and return it to its owner when I saw it hit again and went even further away, which about then, another big ball wihizzed by me. Then, I saw another one high up in the air making its return back to the crowd on the ground. Oh.