Showing posts with label Preteen. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Preteen. Show all posts

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Larry Is Coming Home!


We understand that Larry Miller is being released from the hospital after having a lung transplant. I think the medical staff was amazed how quickly he rebounded. I’m sure Larry and those close to him were not surprised at all.




However, the medical bills added up and he is not out of the woods yet on that part. If you would like to help please read below.

click on the below to read it.

 

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Keep Larry Miller in your Thoughts & Prayers

Thoughts and prayers going out for Larry Miller, who got the call yesterday, for a lung transplant.

Saturday, May 12, 2012

Thursday, May 03, 2012

Monday, April 30, 2012

Varner Reunion Pictures by Clarence Horton

Horaces Armfield & the Mrs and Tony Hipps

At the Varner Reunion, Clarence Horton, a friend, was mingling and taking pictures like me. He told me I could use any of his pictures as I see fit. As I see fit? OK! The first thing to do as I see fit is to take full credit for these excellent pictures! I took these pictures! Me and only me! No, I am just jesting. These are the excellent pictures taken by Clarence Horton, that I lifted off Facebook. Plagiarism isn’t dead.

Thank you for sharing your great pictures Clarence.

I stabbed at the names.  Some I knew and some I had to read enlarge the name tags and some was unreadable.  Sorry.


I will try to get my pictures posted on this blog tomorrow.





Center Ken Chaney




3- Pat McPherson, Melvyn & Ray Denard


Emmett Burton


Mrs & Mrs Fred Williams


Jack Gaskin & Charlene P Benson


Christine & Joe Jenkins


Rick & Kitty Kendrick, Marvin Young, & David Cain


Lee Broadhust & Neal Lawrence


Mickey Griffin, left


Center Monty Calhoun


Kay & Monty Calhoun and Stanely Bishop


Right - Dan Northcutt


Parks Groover


Janet & Pat McPherson


Rupert Raines

Peggy & Stanley Bishop


Tommy & Pat Townsend







John Mosely, Parks Groover, & James Kirk


Sunday, April 29, 2012

Varner Reunion 2012

It was good to see old friends of long ago.   I saw at least four, maye more people, I haven't seen in over a half of a century - and afer I refocused, they haven't changed at all.  I'm still working on the still pictures.



Thursday, April 26, 2012

Monday, June 09, 2008

The Ponce de Leon Ball Park postcards.



These are not real post cards I bought off a rack or anything. I found them while surfing on the net, and since it is baseball season, I thought I would include them.

The Ponce de Leon Ball park, home of the Atlanta Crackers, was located just across Ponce de Leon Avenue from the big tall Sears Building in Atlanta.

I have been to several Cracker games, a couple of times with my Little League team each year and a couple of times with the Boy Scout troop I was in each year too.

One time I even stood at the Cracker’s home plate and batted… or I stood there with a bat anyway. I wasn’t a very good ball player and sat on the bench most the time. Our team was in some kind of playoffs. We were losing terribly. It was two outs and our coach Romeo Hudgins sent me in as a replacement, or whatever. I stood there, ready to knock the ball out of the stadium and behind me the catcher was saying all kinds of things to intimidate me …. I thought he must not realize which one of us was holding the bat… and about that time the pitcher threw the ball and it went by me so fast I could here it sing and the umpire behind me said “Strike” I wanted to say, “Ok, but what are you going to do about the catcher intimidating me?”

Then, another strike. And another strike and the game was over. I was glad, I didn’t really have much of a plan if I happened to hit the ball.

Every time we went to the stadium as spectators we got good seats. I don’t know if it was a lack of people or what. The stadium was concrete with an overhang to protect us from the weather… it could rain, hail, sleet, or snow and us lily white humans would be protected from the weather and the blaring sun. On the other hand, down the first base line, was the “Colored Section” which was shaky blenchers with no-type kind of weather protection. Shame shame.

One time, with the scout troop my little devil of a friend Jimmy Pat Presley try buying a cigar at the concession stand and they sold it to him. Then we all went down and bought cigars.

We had our own little smoking club – we went high up in the nose bleed section so the scout master couldn’t see us and smoked. We were not watching the game anyway. I remember, as we puffed our cigars we tried to think of cigar commercial jingles. One, I remember, went like this, “HAV-A-TAMPA CIGAR TODAY!” To the tune of “Two bits and a haircut”… also, something like “HAV-A-TAMPA CIGAR….LAAAAA!!!” - with about four of us with our right arm out, like just finishing a musical score. We were trying to rhyme Cigar and LAAAA. We had another pretty good one with Muriel Cigars, but I forgot.

This doesn’t have anything to do with Ponce de Leon Stadium, but worth mentioning anyway: There was a radio announcer in Atlanta, Henry somebody, I think Henry Thompson. By day he was a DJ with the named “Hank the Prank” Hank the Prank had all kinds of nifty bells, whistles, sirens, and what-all that was very entertaining when he had his show. In the evening during baseball season, he was Henry whatever, sport announcer for the Crackers. He used his sound effects expertise during the game also. I understand he was not really at the game but was in a studio reading a play-by-play teletype and if there was hit, his pencil hit something that sounded like a bat hitting the ball and then if it was a homerun he would play his roaring crowd tape…. You get the idea.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Another Tale of Terror from Nichols’ Barn



Old Mr. and Mrs. Nichols had a grandson named Eddie that lived in Newnan, Georgia. Eddie was about a year older than me and twice as strong – strong as an ox. He was also mentally challenged. He often sucked or slobbered on the back of one of his hands.

Eddie and his older sister came to visit their grandparents voften and even had permanent bedrooms in the big house.

On one of their visits I was trailing along after the local rough bunch. They were a couple years older than I was. This local rough bunch mostly cursed a lot, smoked, resented authority, and they all were always constantly wise-cracking. My wannabes.

The boys were pretty useless but mostly harmless. I remember one of them was named Jack. In school one time he sat behind me for a while and kept me giggling over his wise-cracks. It never occurred to me he was in my class because he already failed two grades. He quit as soon as he legally could, at age 16 – so did the rest of this bunch.

One evening before dark I was hanging around with them in the yard of the Rich (that was their name) family on the corner of Manget and Glover Streets. Somehow the mental challenged Eddie wandered by. They called him over.

They asked him questions and he gave them the only answers his mind could draw up which kept them laughing. In other words, they were making fun of him.

I don’t remember how it started, but for kicks they thought it would be neat to see the two Eddie’s fight. They kept telling Eddie I was saying bad things about him. Then they pushed us into each other and Eddie begin swinging his fist at me.

I say ‘fist’ because the other fist was in his mouth. It is hard to swing and guard with one fist. He missed me with his wild fist and I socked him in nose. Blood went everywhere.

Eddie ran to his grandparents house crying.

Later that evening Eddie’s sister came up to the group of boys and wanted to know who broke her brother’s nose – she was going to have me arrested. When she found it was me, the son of the Chief of Police, she changed her mind (I heard this later from Jack).

Months later, Eddie was visiting again and apparently didn’t remember or had no ill-fillings about our fight. We went up in the loft of his grandfather’s old barn and were looking around.

The loft had rafters. The flooring of the loft was not nailed down, just boards and sheets of plywood were held to the rafters by balance and gravity.

I don’t remember what was stored in the old loft… old farm tools and things no longer needed.

One of my so-called friends reminded Eddie of me breaking his nose. He pounced on me and started choking me. He hands were like a vice on my neck. I was pretty sure I was going to die in the next minute or so… I could not breath and could not even holler out.

What we didn’t realize when Eddie leaped on me we rolled to and end of a long plank balanced only by the rafters. After our movements the plank lost what hold it had on the rafters and tilted like a see-saw and emptied us like a dump truck onto the ground floor of the barn. We fell five or six feed but I was lucky enough to land on my feet and I ran home like a scared rabbit.

On the other hand, I heard the fall knocked the breath out of Eddie.

I do not remember what happened to the plank that slid me to safety. I suppose if fell a fraction of a second after we did. I only remember two things: (1) my life has been spared and (2) I was out of there!

Someday somebody will probably remind Eddie (if he is still living) that I threw him out of the loft and reminded him how bad it hurt. And he will come looking for me.

Just like old times.

Saturday, March 24, 2007

Some Things Never Change


My neighbor's daughter-in-law is a lunch room monitor at a grammar school.

She said normally everything goes very smoothly and the kids are so well behaved she doesn't have to take any body names or correct anyone misbehaving.

But there are exceptions. The other day she saw several boys very closely together at their lunch table. They all were smiling and they were focused on something. The daughter-in-law casually walked over to their table to see what they were so focused on. Which was very evident, once she got behind them.

Then she went directly over to the little girl at the next table and told her to put her legs together.

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

A Changing Family


Me on the left and Tony H. on our first scout camping trip.

Yesterday I mentioned Mike. Mike was the one that fell through a floor at the construction First Methodist Annex and somehow got a nail or some kind of metal rod through his foot.

Mike was part of an interesting family. He was the oldest of three children. He had a brother named George that was about a year younger, and a sister named M who was about four or five years younger.

They lived in a old house next to the First Methodist Annex that was being built. They had recently moved there from Macon. They were sort of outsiders. They were Catholic which was not a very popular religion in Marietta, Georgia, in the early to mid 1940s.

They belonged to Saint Joseph Catholic Church.

My oldest sister was the same age a Mike and George was just about a year older than I, so we played a lot together and later when we graduated from playing we hung-out around a lot together.

When I was 7 we moved from living a block from them to Manget Street across from Larry Bell Park. Within a year the family of Mike and George moved to Glover Street, around the corner from us – still being about the same distance from us a before.

Their family was very religious. They did not believe in going to the movie on Sunday. One time Mike was about to hit George with the Bible in our living room and suddenly they realized what the weapon was and they did all kinds of crosses across the chest and I’m sure the priest heard about it the next time they were confessing.

The whole family had black hair. The father worked at Lockheed. I watched him transformed from a black headed man to a salt and pepper headed man to a white haired man. Sometime during the hair transformation he bought a horse. They kept it across the street, down a little dirt drive, about where the Cobb County Board of Education is now on Glover Street. We rode the horse a lot. Shortly after the horse the father bought a big tractor. After the horse and after the tractor I think the old man thought he needed some acreage to put his toys on. He bought a 100 acres in West Cobb, someplace near Macland Road, if I remember correctly.

They had a barn in the back of their yard. For a while they kept the horse in it until they made arrangements to rent the pasture. The barn was just a few feet from the fence on the side of their yard. And on the other side of the fence was a Baptist Church which was facing Manget Street - the get down and roll and holler kind of church. For a while on Sunday nights in the summer we enjoyed climbing up on the barn and sit on the roof, slanting down, where we had almost a birds eye view of the Church services and their activities. We got a big kick out of watching them and I got to see my uncle and his wife do some gospel singing.

Mike never joined the scouts but George did. He joined Troop 132, which was Saint Joseph’s Catholic Church’s troop. A year or so later I joined the same troop.

On a Boy Scout camping trip out to his family’s land in West Cobb George, one of the “old salts” of the troop by then, took my sleeping bag and hoisted it up on the flag pole and shot it full of shotgun buckshot – I just remembered that, with a grimace.

I'm 3rd from the left. I think the pole between me and Tony H. is the pole my sleeping bag was sent up and shot full of holes.

Their mother caught their father having an affair with a woman he worked with. She kicked him out of the house. But as strongly religious as they were, they didn’t get a divorce, he and the woman just lived in sin in a trailer on the property hr bought out in the country, with nothing but woods, not even running water.

As years past we all changed.

Mike owned an antique shop and had male friend that lived with him. Presently there is some secrecy about his health and even if he is alive or dead.

Their sweet innocent little sister M became a Playboy Bunny waitress at the Playboy Club in Atlanta. The last I heard (two years ago) she was a cashier at a convenience store.

George became a deputy sheriff. One day while on jury duty I saw him transporting a prisoner from the county jail to a courtroom outside between the buildings. We stopped and talked a few minutes and caught each other up. The prisoner asked George did he mind if he smoked and George told him go ahead and continued talking. George had gained weight and his hair was white – he looked like a clone of his father.

When George died my sister went to pay her respects at the funeral home. She asked how Mike was doing and somebody in George’s family said, “We don’t speak.”

That is a shame. They were very close brothers as pre-teens. Time marches on.


Charles, who is a contractor now, James who worked for Ford Motor Co and probably got laid off (the plant was closed last year), and the Invisible Man.

Sunday, February 19, 2006

A Universal Preteen Boy Photo


Just about every preteen boy has hammed it up in front of the camera flexing his wannabe muscles. Here's mine.