Please Mr. Postman....

In Virginia Beach, Va. 23 year old Dominyk Antonio Alfonseca was arrested because he handed a bank teller a note asking for $150,000 and added, "Please" with a smiley face.

His defense is that with the word "Please" it was not a demand.  It was a request.

I immediately thought of something I did, or didn't do:

One time in the time keepers' office of the Atlanta Post Office a supervisor  asked me to "Please " to something, which I forgot what it was.  Because some other people were not gainfully employed at the moment and I thought he should have chosen them for the chore I kept doing my other work and  the next day when he found out the job wasn't done he called me into his office and told me he was going to write me up for refusing to  obey a direct order.

My  defense was that I was the only person doing something at the time so he should have picked one of the others, and I said, "besides, when he said "Please" it became a quest not an order.

I wasn't punished.  It was swept under the rug. 

July the 21st Days in History

July 21st
1967 Jimmy Foxx baseball hall of famer died.
1984 James Fixx runner & author, dies at age 43 of a heart attack died.
1873 Jesse James, 1st train robbery


For one thing I thought it was strange that two people who died on July the 21st the only difference in their last name is the i and the o. Each had the unusual 2 x ending. And of course, they both started with F. Another strange thing was that all three are named James.

James Fixx was a running guru. He ran and looked at every aspect of running from every angle. He wrote two books on running and annually he put out a Runner’s Diary – which was a unique way to keep running tallies on days, weeks, months, and for the year. Each page represented a week of 7 days on one of the opened pages and the other either had a photograph of someone running or a short tale of inspiration. I bought his books and his Runner’s Diary and treated them sacredly and for a while I lived by his books, they were my Bible.

Then James Fixx suddenly died. He died on the side of the road while running. Heart failure.

Did he cover the part about some people die instantly while running because of putting too much stress on their hearts? I don’t remember reading anything about that.

What James Fixx left out of his books inspired me the most. I slowed down and decreased my running about 50%, then maybe 25%, and now I am lucky to run 2 or 3 miles a week.

Of course, we all know Jesse James.

Those White Boys That Drove Motor Scooters

I was in high school with a kid named David White. David died several years back. David was a bright kid. He was very calculating and seemed to always have a scheme going. One of the things he and his friend Cyril Bell had a one of a kind store. It was simple, you go to a clothing department store in downtown Marietta and try on a coat, jacket, pants, or whatever you wanted. Then, take it off and put it back on the rack. You make notes of whatever you tried on you would like to have… telling color, brand name, and any other particulars about it and in a day or so it would be yours for maybe 25% of the price tag. They were expert shoplifters or midnight wholesale businessmen – very few people knew the details. But, in a short time they were caught up. And as suddenly as they were in trouble they were out of trouble. They were smooth talkers too.

One time I was hitchhiking on Roswell Street and Cyril Bell drove by and stopped and picked me up. He was driving and his mother was in the car. I sat in the back seat. He and his mother told me he had a job for the summer at the Etowah Indians mounds in Cartersville. I wondered if in September we were going to see a big sale on Indian artifacts presented by the Midnight Supply Company. His mother told him to get closer behind the car in front of him. Cyril said it was against the law to get less than a car length behind the car in front of you. I chuckled to myself and thought, “Cyril is a very law abiding citizen isn’t he?” About 20 years ago I read that Cyril was running for public office in Decatur, Georgia. He didn’t get it. He died within the past ten years.

In 1965, in the Grants Park neighborhood of Atlanta, I walked into a convenience store and there was David White straightening out the merchandize on the counter. He told me he was assistant manager. That was the last time I saw him.

David White drove a Cushman Motor Scooter.

Eddie White also drove a motor scooter, which I think was a Cushman. David also had a different drummer he marched to. I remember Eddie got some fights as a teenager but finally joined the Army and left Marietta. After his Army tour and after his brief employment as a manager of a Holiday Inn in Nashville, Tennessee, he made a name for himself in the country music world.

Eddie White was a tall kid. I remember one time jumping up and ramming a handkerchief in his mouth as some kind of joke and he started chasing me and we both broke down laughing. I forgot the details

I knew Eddie White made it in the music world and even had a few hits. But I also heard he changed his name.
Thanks to Paul Roper, a researcher in his own right, found out more about Eddie.
Eddie literally made a name for himself. The name he made for himself is Johnny Darrell. I Googled Johnny Darrell and this what Wikapedia had to say:

Johnny Darrell (born July 23, 1940 - died October 7, 1997) was an American country music artist. Darrell was born in Hopewell, Alabama but grew up in Marietta, Georgia.[1] After a stint in the army, he moved to Nashville and began managing a Holiday Inn near Music Row when he was discovered by Kelso Herstin, a producer working for United Artists, on the recommendation of Bobby Bare. In his recording career, Darrell established a trend of introducing "lyrically adventurous" songs that would later become major hits for other artists.[2]
His first single, a version of Curly Putman's "Green Green Grass of Home" was issued in 1965, to be followed by "As Long as the Wind Blows" in 1966. He was the first to record the Mel Tillis song "Ruby, Don't Take Your Love to Town", which became a top ten hit for him in 1967 and later a hit for Kenny Rogers.[1] This was followed by his performance of Dallas Frazier's "the Son of Hickory Holler's Tramp" in 1968, and the crossover hit "With Pen in Hand", which would later became a hit for Vikki Carr. In the 1970s, Darrell was associated with the Outlaw country movement. Darrell suffered from diabetes, a disease which would impair his health and ability to perform. Darrell died from the disease at age 57 in Kennesaw, Georgia, and was survived by his wife Jody.[2]
Kris Kristofferson in a public interview once stated: "If ever there's a movie to be made, it should be made about Johnny Darrell". Many of music's great artists revered and befriended Johnny. May his memory live on.

Have you ever noticed all the singers and writers that once called Marietta or Cobb County home? Don’t try to count them with your fingers and toes, you don’t have enough digits. Even Troy Donahue lived in Marietta once.

Served Cold

We belong to a video-by-mail club. You can watch as many movies as you can per month. In order to get our money’s worth we keep the postal service busy receiving and mailing back movies.

In this situation we see movies we would not normally see. Which is a good thing and also a bad thing.

We watched COLD SOULS last night with Paul Giamatti. Paul plays himself, but hopefully he is not as neurotic or nervous as he self portrayed himself.

The movie is about after scientists discovered the souls of humans are actually a physical mass , about the size of a marble, embedded deep within the brain. Probably for the convenience of movie making no operation is required to remove the soul . You are put ins a MRI –like contraption and your soul is extracted.

When your soul is removed from you it doesn’t change that much about you. It does not damage your daily functions although you are likely to get emotional when you hear a sad story or watch a sad movie. And you may not laugh at something funny.

It just occurred to me that it did not seem to effect Paul Giamatti’s relationship with his wife. It seems it would.

In the movie there is a need for certain individuals to have their souls plucked, for professional reasons. Having a soul might influence their judgment. In Giamatti's case, he felt it would make him a better actor.

The soul, after it is removed, is kept locked in a vault with the owner having the only key. This soul removing is of course for the wealthy.

Of course, like any other good thing or fad, it won’t be long before the gangster element get their grubby hands on it. They began stealing souls out of the safe deposit box and I would tell you how they managed that, but honesty, I nodded during that time.

The underground element who was swiping the souls and selling them on the black market was the Russians! (just to make matters interesting).

Did I tell you this was a dark comedy? I usually thrive on dark comedy, but sometimes WHISH! (me making an upward motion) the y go over my head.

The Badge of Courage - I Mean Chicken

The above is an official badge of the CCSI (Chicken Crime Scene Investigation Unit). My number is 720, which is just a few numbers away from 007. This is a license to kill. To kill things like chicken hawks, possums, coyotes, rats, and raccoons,

Monty has a chicken coop for his granddaughter Anna. He bought her some baby chicks for Easter. The chickens got bigger and bigger. Deliciously bigger.

You could sense the saliva oozing out of the mouths of all the critters of the night as the chicks became young chickens and their voices changed from peeps to clucks.

The chicks began to disappear. One, then another one…. It was beginning to have the makings of a song like “99 Bottles”… then the balance disappeared at once, leaving nothing but loose feathers and a few clumps of blood.

Chief Investigator Paul Roper visited the crime scene… sniffed around, looked at the what little evidence left… after all, if all the evidence was still there, there would be no crime would there?

Investigator Paul Roper decided for one thing, he wished he badge number 714 just like Jack Webb… another thing, he determined, when the lights of the neighborhood went out the night critters had a buffet.

Of course, Roper conveyed his information on to me before he came to a conclusion and the most advice I had to give him was “Really? You don’t say….?” Also, I am proud to say that my badge number is 720, and if you take the 7 and multiply it by the next digit (2) what does that equal? It equals 14! So, if you take that 14, and keep the first digit (7), you have the number of the much status badge of Jack Webb, 714.

But, back to the case at hand: Investigator Roper conveyed his findings and theories to Monty Calhoun…. Which concentrated is that what Monty needs is a better chicken house. Then he tells Monty the Three Little Pigs Story about two pits make their huts out of straw and the wise practical pig made his house out of bricks…. And the wolf huffed and puffed and couldn’t blow it down.

Then Investigator Roper handed Monty a business card for 3 R Contractors.

A new much stronger chicken coop is being planned and new baby chicks have been ordered.

Did you know it is a must for baby chickens to be shipped when they are one day old? They have just enough body fat to keep them from starving for one day. See, Chicken Fat is good for something!

And do yourself a favor and kindly do not think about the one day old chickens that did not make it to the shipping platform one day one.

Now, are we sure that the chickens were taken by night critters? Could it be…?


Hmmmmm. That made me think (very close up of my face thinking)… last year Inspector Paul Roper and I had lunch several times at Brandi’s Famous Hotdogs….. (now the scene of my face starts waving, like a puddle of still water that just had a tiny pebble tossed into it) and the scene develops into Paul and I sitting at Brandi’s eating chili hotdogs…..

Eddie: If we ever get tired of these hotdogs and we eat lunch at Chic’Fi a let some time.

Paul: Not me! I do not eat chicken! (looking very absolutele)

Eddie: I’ll swap an onion ring for some of yours french fries.

POOF! The next scene is back at the Good Old Boys Meeting. I notice Ivanell (wife of Investigator Roper) very delicately cooking chicken breast strips of the grill. CHICKEN!!! Paul said he DOES NOT EAT CHICKEN!

Another close-up of my face…this time my eyes are bigger and a few nostril hairs are sticking out. I am darting my eyes back and forth at the chicken. Only you the reader know what I am thinking to myself:

“Is the evidence being cooked and eaten in front of our very eyes?”

Fade Out (with Peter Gunn music playing).

HAPPY MAY DAY and Super Vigilantes

MAY DAY (May the first) is a different day for many ethnic or Nations. It has been a pagan day of celebration the longest because it is sort of closing the door of cool weather and opening the door for warmer weathers.

Some think of it as a Communist Holiday. I prefer to think of it as an international day honoring the working people of the world: the chicken pluckers, the cotton pickers, bean pickers, E1s & E2s in the military, and generally people lowest in the pecking order of things that are looked down at and make very little money. They need a day of honor too.

__________________________________________________________




Last night on the news was a report of a new group in town. A group of alter-ego super heroes with masks and tights on like, well, maybe Superman or Spiderman – or maybe even a mysterious wrestler. They are to parade around in downtown Atlanta and fight crime or that is what they are hyped up to do. We’ll see.



I think they think when they see grab a purse snatcher in action and hit them a bit POW! or a other sound effect will fly out. I think if the crime breaker fights back with a long blade or a gun the super heroes will see just how fast they can run away from a crime scene.

On camera were about four or five super hero wannabes were walking, surrounding a cute little sexy mask female super hero. Were they are protecting her from evil – or just trying to cope a feel?

The news said these bunches of alto egoers are popping up in all the major cities. Crime is doomed.

I wouldn't doubt if between themselves they squabble over who has the biggest super heroes comic book collection and can cite trivia facts and adventures of their favorite super heroes without batting an eye.

I noticed there was one big oversize guy in red/orange tights that might strike fear in any wrong doer, but his tight orange jockey shape shorts were drooping…. Well, maybe the bad guy will die laughing.

Law And Order Beats Its Own Record

As you probably know, stories on Law and Order many times reflect an actual story that is in the news. If there was any irony or bizarre situation about the actual gruesome event – you could almost bet money that a very similar story-line would be only a few weeks away on Law And Order.

In Georgia for the past few days the search and finding the body of hiker Meredith Emerson and her accused killer Gary Hilton. The medical examiners yesterday determined she was kept alive for three days before bludgeoned to death and then decapitated. And also yesterday speculations were popping up about other murders on hiking trails and parks – “were they done by Gary Hilton also?” Seems to the question of yesterday.

Last night on Law And Order, Special Victims Unit, the story was uncannily similar to this case in Georgia – less than 16 hours afterwards when all the news about the case were hitting the fan. Wow!

Speaking of the murder of Meredith Emerson and Hilton as the murderer – I don’t think this falls under the “innocent until proven guilty umbrella", he has already admitted he did it and led the authorities to the body in Dawson County. He made a deal that if he led them to the body the prosecuting attorney would not seek the death penalty.

Do Your Thing

Yesterday evening we went to Home Depot and bought some flowers we plant to plant in our big plant pot container today.

When first arriving at Home Depot we saw a man sitting by a flat bed carrier. On the carrier was some flowers and a dog. The dog was laid back, just laying on its belly enjoying life. We asked the man what kind of dog it was and he told us… I forgot. And we asked how old it is and he said six years. Oooohhhhh…. It looked like such a nice a polite and laid back dog.

We were in the area of the outside plants were for sale. Racks and racks of flowers were neatly arranged, inside and out. I noticed from time to time the dog owner’s wife would come by and add another container of flowers to the flatbed carrier. Each time, they would snap bitterly at each other… not the dog, but the husband and wife. Why they were buying flowers, which I think represents happiness, is beyond me.

Finally, she told him to put his dog in the car, and bring the car, in a bitter snappy way. Which he complied. He drove up in a black car and by the time he got back with the car the carrier was loaded…. She kept adding different colorful flowers to it.

The next thing I noticed, he quickly loaded them into his car, she jumped in and away they sped, without paying for the flowers.

Have a nice Saturday and do your thing.

Todd & Art with Details

These two pictures above and bottom) are examples detailed type of pictures that Will Elder was known for in MAD. The black & white is a take-off on Ralph Edwards’ “This Is Your Life” in the first MAD magazine and the color one from a MAD comicbook look at restaurants. They are both the introductory splash. While you have it in front of you click again on either cartoon and study the details and thought that was put into each figure drawn.

Now, about Todd:

Todd was a strange guy. As preteens, my friend and I knew Todd was strange. He boarded with my friend’s aunt. I remember he collected cans and jars of strange and exotic foods. One time Todd and my friend’s aunt had a fierce argument and Todd got mad and stormed out to his car with several of his picked or spiced whatever and sat there and ate and sulked.

We lived in an old house In about 1955 our parents decided to move to a new house.

In the old house my bedroom was off the kitchen. I had model airplanes hanging from the ceiling in dog fights that I very carefully posed. On one wall that had no window or door, nothing but a blank wall, I cut out pictures out of magazines and comic books and put on the wall. I had politicians pointing at each other laughing, hitting each over the heads with gravels; Tarzan creeping up on a sexy movie starlet with a dagger; The Monster From the Black Lagoon climbing out of a make-believe pool with above him three or four boys were cannon-balling, soon to be hitting the monster; Superman flying high up near the ceiling with Mighty Mouse in hot pursuit and looking mad; Captain Marvel up high also, dropping the little baldheaded mad-scientist Dr. Sivanium; and endless more. I cut out hundreds of figures from Life and Saturday Evening Post Magazines, comic books and my sister’s movie magazines. It was a gigantic piece of art where every clipping somehow was related to the other pieces of clipping near it. I paid close attention to composition and balancing. There were many details. Friends stood in front of my masterpiece for hours studying it. I could almost believe I was divinely inspired.

I got the idea of multi-actions details in a single picture from my hero Bill Elder of MAD comicbook. I stole the general idea I admit, but the picture clippings and decided what would and would not go on the wall and near what was my creation.

I wished I had taken a picture (it would last longer).

Our house had a for sale sign in front. Real estate agents from time to time would show a potential buyer the house. One day an agent showed the eccentric man Todd the house. He was in awe of my wall clipping art work. Todd told the real estate agent if he bought the house he wanted my art to stay where it was.

He bought the house and my clippings stayed on the wall.

Next door was a little boy who had his swing set near our yard line. When we lived there the kid would swing and sing to the top of his lungs, usually popular songs.

Within a year or so after we moved out and Todd moved in he was arrested and ended up in prison for molesting the little boy.

At times I have wondered if my bedroom wall was not cluttered with clip-art would the molestation have taken place. Todd may not have wanted the house without the pseudo artsy wall.

About twenty years or so later I was in the same Political Science class at Kennesaw Junior College (now it is a fully accredited university) as the little boy’s sister. She had not changed. She told me her brother was a manager of a mini-theater.

Muggins

This is a postcard of the Terminal Station in Atlanta. It was on Spring Street near Riches, The Atlanta Journal and Constitution Building, the Georgia Power Building, and the Federal Annex. The Federal Annex was directly across the street. Decades after this picture was taken I worked in the Federal Annex.

The Terminal Station way back then might be considered the equivalent to New York City’s Penn Station. It was where most commuters who came via train arrived.

By the time I worked across the street it was a empty old building with drunks and homeless people in every nook and corner.

I parked behind the Terminal. I remember walking to work down a cement passageway that went beside the building. Down the long walk was an exit door that would come out from the inside of the Terminal Building. The door was inset, if that is the right word – the entrance door to open was about two feet in. It made a perfect home for some homeless soul trying to stay out of the wind. The person that normally slept there had a taste for the best. Whenever possible it was a finer vodka brand or bourbon brand (Wild Turkey, etc), or some other elitist drink. Only a very few times did he lower himself to a cheap wine. Once, I saw a human size turd near his snuggling corner. It sort of burst my bubble of the person with the fine taste who tried to stay there at nights – but even the cream of the top have to have bowel movements – right?

The long cement walk with the Terminal Station on one side and a cement wall on the other led down behind the building to where many railroad tracks converged near the old platform of the once lively Union Station. It was below the viaducts and a series of bridges, also on the edge of what would in a few years become Underground Atlanta. That is where we parked our cars. It was the cheapest, $5 a week. We usually walked to our cars in a group and – safety in numbers – and tried to synchronize our arrival time and leaving time and walked to and from the Federal Annex in a group.

But, but time to time, because of different off days and sickness or lateness, at times I had to walk alone. One time I was walking in the dark from my car and a big black man stepped in front of me and asked did I have any money. I always thought it would be wiser not to carry any large amount of money but change with me for this very reason. I told him I only had change and gave it to him. He said that wasn’t good enough and he was so close he grabbed me and got me in a head hold forcing me to bend over. He brought a knife out and said he just escaped from a prison and the pocket change wasn’t good enough. He had whiskey on his breath.

He demanded my wallet, which I wasn’t about to argue about, handed it to him. He saw it was empty and gave it back. Then of all things, he started singing religious songs to me. We walked, with me in a headlock and stumbled all over in the dirt and tripping over tracks, steps, pot-holes, and curbs while he sung to me about how great Jesus was, and the whole time his blade was teasing with my neck and nose.

I kept telling myself to be docile, be docile. Do not give tell him what a mistake he is making. Do not tell him how wrong he is – and most of all, do not lose your temper and call him names. Then, a car came bumping across the railroad tracks and he pushed me away with sudden force like I sprung from his body and away he went into the darkness…. Then, away, I ran into the opposite darkness.

The Terminal Station was bulldozed away and in its place the Richard Russell Building was built. The Richard Russell Building has many Federal offices, such as the regional HUD offices. It is also where the Federal Courts are held.

Also, it wiped us out of a cheap parking place.

However, the Atlanta Post Office came to our rescue by buying 3 or 4 nearby vacant lots for its employees to park in and it was Free! But it was the same deal as previously, safety in numbers, which did not always work out when you are the only number (one).

One time I walking over the bridge that went over the tracks and through part of the Southern Railway Building about 11:30 one rainy night and a tall skinny black man approached me from the opposite direction. He was staggering. When he got near he asked if I had a cigarette. I said yes and took my pack of Winstons out of my pocket and tapped the bottom of the pack with my finger which would partially eject a cigarette, so the man could reach over, take a cigarette and be on his way. He didn’t grab the cigarette as I was hoping for, he grabbed my wrist.. He said he wanted my coat. Unlike the last time, I had a surge of adrenalin and told him he couldn’t have it. We started grabbing at each other, but keeping a dancing distance. Somehow he lounged at me and I caught his torso off balance and flung him and he fell the against the curb and he let out a cry of pain. I took off running. Then, I remembered he never got his cigarette, so I ran a few steps back towards him and said, “Take the whole pack!” And then I ran to work.

I quit smoking years ago.

Thank you elementaryhistoryteacher of Georgia On My Mind and the American PresidentsBlog for pointing me to The Atlanta Time Machine site which is loaded with old Atlanta Post Cards.

Confiscated

My daddy is the cop in the background on the left. The picture was taken in the early 50s. When we go to the local O'Charley's Restaurant we see this picture framed in the lobby with other oldie local pictures.

It looks like Daddy and his two fellow officers Jesse and Earnest caught someone trying to smuggle cases and cases of blackberry jam into the city.

Mob Moll Virginia Hill's Cottage c1928

Tech Rape

Not too many blog entries ago I told of a short-lived Thanksgiving tradition of ushering the freshman Tech – Georgia game at Grant field.

One of the comments was from somebody who hinted something to effect that she was glad I had fond memories of Tech and hinted she may have had some bitter memories of Tech.

We had a flurry of emails going back and forth. One on of her notes she said MHS 59, which I interpreted to have graduated from Marietta High School in 1959. I was right. We knew of each other in high school. She was a year ahead of me but remembers me and I remember her.

She now lives in the southwest part the U.S.

We caught each other up on news of our old high school mates, who is sick, who died, etc. It is an enjoyable chatting or gossiping we are doing.

At Georgia Tech when she was a student she was raped by a guy in a Fraternity. And she has a blogsite about that rape – actually, more than one rape, she has a bone to pick (no pun intended). So, if you want to read about her Tech Rape and the unjust of it all, click here or you may want to go her lastest blog creation, if so click here.

Brother Was a Father

In the 1980s Rocky was in the accelerated Target group at his school. It was Haley’s Comet time. I don’t remember how it all started, but in the Target kids parents’ association it was decided to take the kids to someplace way out in the country where the sky would be clear and not influenced by the glare of city lights.

Anna took on the responsibility of finding a such a place, that would welcome children in the middle of the night. She came to the conclusion that a certain Catholic monastery southeast of Atlanta about 40 or 50 miles would the ideal place.

We have been to this monastery before. It was way out in the country. The monks there made their own food and made their own bread which was available for sale. Along with other stuff you would expect monks to deal with, such as honey, candles and I don’t know what else. I do remember they had peacocks wandering around the grounds.

Anna called the monastery and spoke to a Brother Clarence Biggers. Brother Biggers was very enthused over a bunch of school kids coming in the middle of the night to see Haley’s Comet and said he would be delighted to be their guide.

He gave us directions. That evening we met someplace and all five or six cars drove in a caravan the long drive to the Monastery. I forgot the details of the directions but we found ourselves out on a lonely road in the middle of the night with no sign of civilization and were thinking maybe we took the wrong turn or something. Should we turn back and find a phone and call him? This was before cell phones.

Then we came upon a land mark he described and knew we were there on the right track. Then a tall figure in a hood stepped out of the shadows with his arms spread out. I remember the tall figure wearing a hooded robe. That was a shocking scary sight! I remember he was wearing a white robe and Anna remembers another color robe – whichever. It was Brother Biggers.

He motioned for us to get out and we did. We, parents and kids, gathered around him and he told us he used to be a priest at Saint Joseph’s in Marietta. He went around and asked our names. When I told him my last name he asked me was I related to the late Dick Hunter. I said he was my uncle – my father’s brother. I remembered him – he did my uncle’s funeral when he died. He asked me how his wife was doing and also wanted to know how all twelve of their children were doing. Fine. They are doing fine. He said he thought a lot of that family.

He gave us and the kids a very educated guide of the constellations above us in the clear dark sky. He of course pointed out Haley’s Comet and told some trivia history about it and what the people of ancient times thought of it and on each constellation he would tell the Greek mythology tale about it. He did a very good job in educating the kids and us on the sky that night. We listened in awe.

Unfortunately, then, as now, I have a low retention level – so, what I heard, although very interesting, went in one ear and out the other.

After it was over he asked us if we would like to go to the main building and have some hot chocolate. Sure! Everyone said.

We went upstairs in the back of the building and Brother Biggers took us into a kitchen like area with tables. He boiled water and had the instant cocoa and we sat around and talked to him and he told us more about the Monastery. He said all the monks had to work to earn their daily bread, so to speak. He said anybody, regardless of their religion or beliefs can come to the monastery and stay a while just to get away from it all and contemplate their belly buttons – or whatever.

A big bell clanged and Brother Biggers said it was time for the first mass of the day for the Monks, would we like to see it? Sure it. We walked down a hall and quietly opened a door and we found ourselves in a balcony overlooking a congregation of Monks. Before entering he told us we needed to very quiet.

The Monk congregation lifted their spirits by chanting. I don’t think there was a sermon.

Sadly, one Monk was slumped over in a wheel chair alone down an aisle between the pews and appeared to be very weak, sick, or just out of it. Being disabled is probably not an excuse to skip mass.

Then, how did Brother Biggers skip out… being a tour-guide?

We thanked him and we arrived back in Marietta about daylight.

Brother Biggers continued.

Years passed and one night on the local news a lady was being interviewed because she was suing the Catholic Church. She said Father Clarence Biggers molested her when she was young and attending Saint Joseph’s School. It was further pointed out that when several parents complained about Father Biggers molesting their children he suddenly had a calling to be a monk at the Monastery we went to.

Then, about a week later in the newspaper one of my female cousins came forth and said Father Biggers did some things to her too. She has 11 siblings, which 3 of them are sisters. I wondered about the rest of them, and decided just to keep their mouths shut.

But Brother Biggers knew his stars!

School Buses, Bus Stops, and Sex Criminal Laws

Yesterday was the first day of school for the school year in Cobb County. The Marietta School System went back last week.

When I went to school, as I remember it, we started soon after Labor Day, never before. And my mother, who grew up in a rural community, remembered all kids generally got out of school during harvest time.

I have no kid in school, so, why am I thinking about this? My routine. I was thinking of leaving out on my bike and I thought of having to compromise with big orange school buses and the kids in clusters at bus stops waiting on them. I decided to postpone my ride until 8:30. By that time, hopefully, we won’t be in the way of each other.

Yesterday in Smyrna, Georgia, because of some kind of freak accident a school bus had a dangling possible live power line dangling from the pole onto the bus. An alert citizen saw this, and ran up to the bus before it opened its door and told the driver to keep the kids inside until the line was resolved. I think the news said there were two or three kids and the bus driver inside. It was very hot inside the bus but they could not leave. Finally Georgia Power came and fixed the situation, but it took some time. There was concerned that the people in the bus would become dehydrated, so ambulances and the police were there to do what had to be done. After Georgia Power hoisted the live line out of harms way the kids left the bus and there was no medical problems. They have the alert person who first saw the incident to thank.

Also, speaking of School Bus Stops, Georgia recently passed a law saying no sex offender and be within so many feet (I forgot how many- I think 1000) of a bus stop. Somebody did a quick study and found there is no such place in Georgia Cities and the suburbs – only possibly in remote rural areas.

So, they have passed a law that it will be impossible to enforce. The lawmakers, and the preppy looking legislator spokeswoman, said when they meant not within so many feet of a bus stop they didn’t mean it – it is so many feet within a designated bus stop. So, see? No problem, only a solution.

The last I heard the case is in front of a judge to decide if it is constitutional or not.

Some would say that the message here is if you don’t do sex crimes then you don’t have anything to worry about.

And that reminds me of a case in Rome a year or so ago, where a young man, I think 18, had sex with his underage girl friend. I think she was 18. Two years difference in their ages. He was accused of statutory rape. I know it was being appealed and I haven’t heard if he got out of it or not… come on, it was his girl friend. So, if he didn’t get out of it, he will have no place in most of Georgia to work and live – as the law is presently worded.

Tommy & I Become Friends - after 5 years

When I was growing up in this town, much smaller then, my arch enemy was Tommy.

We first met at a high school football game. We were in the 7th grade, our last year of grammar school. My friends and I would go to the football game to hang out. We had no real interest in the game.

Beside the cement seats on one side was a grassy bank. That was a hangout for 7th graders – high school wannabee students. At that time there were about 4 or 5 grammar schools in Marietta. And maybe of all those schools maybe each school had four or five 7th grade unauthorized representatives. There might have been as many as 25 7th graders on that bank, and all but your close friends from your own school were potential enemies.

That is what Tommy and I viewed each other as at first: potential enemies. It didn’t help that we got in some kind of scuffle and rolled down the hill trying to punch each other.

After about the second or third summit on the grassy hill it was understood we each came to face off…. But much of it was dares and dirty looks at each other.

The next year when all us ex-7th graders met under the one roof of the Junior High School I found out Tommy’s family was one of the most known families in Marietta - his father owned the Chevrolet dealership.

We continued snarling at each other, showing each other that each was not afraid. We had several pushing contests, which might equal to young male goats butting heads… but we knew when to stop and not get hurt or get into trouble.

Through the eight and ninth grades Tommy continues to be an asshole every time we passed in the hall way.

Tommy had two siblings, two twins a boy and a girl. I got along great with the girl. The boy twin was sort of timid and an introvert… so, we hardly ever got to know each other.

After Tommy turned 16 his father got him a 56 Chevrolet, green and white. I remember one time hitchhiking and he came by and slowed down like he was going to give me a ride and shot me a bird. That is one boy that held a grudge.

This animosity continued throughout our high school years. We never got close.

His father was a very gracious hard working man. One night during our Valentine’s Banquet, because it was snowing, I slid into a ditch. Tommy’s father materialized and he and a black man worked for an hour or so to get back on the pavement and then drove away before I could thank him property. That was his thing on snowy nights, is to ride around and give help to stalled and stuck autos.

Hardly anybody liked Tommy. They thought he was a snobbish asshole – what do I mean, “thought”?

I think his father had a heart to heart talk with him and told him if he wanted to hold his family position as one of Marietta finest elite he had to get in and do a little mischief with the locals…. The next couple of levels down in the caste system…. Show them you are one of them… go with them to tip a few cows over or something…. Win their respect.

One night Tommy was at the drive-in we hung out at. He was right in the middle of everything. He acted like we were best friends.

One conversation led to another and before a few of us, including Tommy was making plans to hijack some watermelons off a watermelon truck. Back then there were no Interstate expressways. On federal and state highways with traffic lights and all. The Chattahoochee River separated Cobb County from Atlanta. On each side of the Chattahoochee was a huge hill. The US 41 Highway, coming out of Atlanta had to climb that steep hill. We have noticed that these loaded down flatbed trucks with watermelons could barely make it up the hill. Also, half way of the hill, was a driveway, going off to someone’s summer home overlooking the Chattahoochee.

The plan was for us to park in the drive way with the lights out. With the truck came struggling by we would simply pull out of the drive way, get behind the truck and a couple of us run along between the truck and the car and pull watermelons off and hand them off to who was in the car.

Tommy was to be one of the watermelon relayers. The planned failed. The driver must have looked in his rearview mirror. He stopped and jumped out with a iron pipe ready to defend his watermelons.

Which scared us, we outside scattered and the car fled like a scalded cat.

But the most important thing is that Tommy bonded with us.



Last year he died, it was rumored he died after being in a coma for a year "after that gun incident.”

Wednesday Morning

Today I had a plan. It was not to just get up, drink coffee, listen to the news, fiddle with the computer and then go exercise.

Well, yes it was too. That was exactly what I did.

However!!! (pointing my forefinger upward to make a point) it is where I went to exercise. I went to the Silver Comet Trail, between 12 and 15 miles away.

The Silver Comet Trail is an old railroad bed, or trestle that is no longer in use by trains. Several organizations and counties got together and paved it for exercise purposes. I think it runs through three or four counties and I read someplace when it is complete it will be sixty miles long – which will just about take it to the Alabama line.

People walk, run, ride their bikes, and skate on the trail.

At different points they have rest rooms, bicycle shops, and at one point even a coffee shop that has a sign up that says “Fresh Donuts!” I bet donuts is a big seller among those trying to exercise…. I’m sure it gives some of those who are just starting to exercise a challenge. If they could only direct a fan to throw a donut scented breeze out to the trail.

I usually ride a portion of the trail a few times a year. My purpose in going today, is it is time for my bike’s 30 Day Checkup. I thought I might be able to give the bike mechanic the information he is looking for if I drove it a long time and I maybe I could detect something imperfect.

It is always a scenic ride over bridges; through short tunnels; new giant houses sometimes to the side, farms, gardens, greenery of trees, valleys, and many times you are in a cutaway path of bedrock or slate, that was made for the railroad many years ago. There is also a covered bridge within rock throwing distance, but I don’t think you can actually see it from the trail.

I don’t know, I have not studied the railways of Georgia history, but I would think that when it was a railway bed, it probably the trains coming through here were going to or just left a little section where to railways crossed, which was named Terminus. Terminus later changed its name to Marthasville and later changed its name to Atlanta.

After all, the Chattahoochee River is probably less than 5 or 6 miles away, and once you cross it you are in Atlanta’s city limits.

One thing was different than the last time I was on the Silver Comet Trail. On the news yesterday a man attacked two women, in the same area I was riding. When I passed people there seemed to be a distrust in the air. Very few lone women greeted me back when I spoke, waved, or nodded. I can’t say I blame them.

Afterwards, I went back to where I bought my bike and told the mechanic I heard a minor squeaking. He oiled and tightened everything up and off I went, happy.

Then, I went to my favorite Krogers to buy some groceries. It was sort of sad. They will close in about two weeks and they are reducing the prices… they just started doing that while I was there. My sadness was quickly replaced by greed as I started looking for some bargains.

I Shot the Sheriff But Did Not Shoot His Deputy

As a tease, sort of, I asked Carolyn, of GINGER QUILL (link on right) did I ever tell her the time a warrant was issued for my arrest in Panama City, Florida, in 1961, and I wonder if the Statue of Limitations are over yet.

Back in the late 50s and early 60s we young people would go to Panama City every year.

In 1961 I was working and attending college at night. The girl I was dating, was going to Panama City with a group of girls, after they graduated. It was surprisingly how many Marietta High School students and Marietta alumni showed up. Even many of our friends who joined the service showed up, one was even AWOL. It was a way of life that we thought would last forever. It was like an annual pilgrimage to the Holy Lands.

The girl I was dating shared a motel room with a bunch of girls. We partied down by the motel's pool and the beach, which steps led to.

During that week I went deep sea fishing for the first time on Captain Anderson's fishboat and caught a big grouper. It was the largest and won the pot money that day. Ironically, Ronnie Witcher hooked a red snapper by the tail, which was pretty funny. I attended Ronnie's memorial service serval weeks ago.

Back to the party at the motel. Several of the girls were up in their rooms and I thought it would be the teenage show-off thing to do was to climb on the ledge that ran just around 3.5 feet under the window line and climb in their window. Which I was drunk and was doing. Never walk a ledge when you are drunk.

The owner or the manager of the motel saw me and hollered at me. When I heard him and looked down and saw his angry face I yanked at the window I was beside thinking I could open it and jump out of his sight. But when I jerked at the window's frame the framed screen came off in my hands which cause me to lose my balence and I was about to topple over and fall. But, I let go of the screen and grabbed the window's ledge and crawled in.

The frame screen fell hitting Mr. Owner/or/Manager on the head, knocking him out.

We left after that. Later that evening at a Putt-Putt Golf place somebody told me the guy that got knocked out had a warrant out for my arrest.

I avoided that motel after that and whenever I police car would cruise by I would look the other way - just like the fugitive.

That's about it.

Yes, I broke the law, so?

I was wondering why Bush would opening admit breaking a law like wire tapping on private citizens; surveillance on American citizens without the consent of any court.

And while wondering, I remembered what I saw not long ago a political cartoon with Dick Chaney with a hand puppet that looked very much like Bush. The cartoon was insinuating that Bush would do anything Chaney would tell him to do; like Chaney was really calling the shots.

Then I thought, what if Bush was impeached for breaking the law. Who would get his job? Then, it all became clear...