My late neighbor Kathleen Hooper Killian celebrating her birthday with her close kin. She is a distant relative-in-law. She died about a month after these pictures were made.
Friday, May 24, 2019
Thursday, May 23, 2019
Throwback Thursday, Billy Joe Royal, Panama City, & Valdosta
Copied and pasted from a previous post:
PCB and Billy's First Singing Gig
But while going through my collection to pick from, I came across an album of an old friend, who shall remain nameless. For the purpose of this entry I will call him Billy.
I grew up with Billy and his brother. We and other friends in the same little circle had some hell raising times. I remember on a country road one time Billy was driving behind me and I was driving about 70 mph and he eased up and he made his front bumper tap my rear bumper. It scared the heck out of me. Several times in high school we got caught drinking in the parking lots of evens and Billy was an expert lying out of it getting us off free.
Billy loved to sing. He could imitate any body, soul, rock, or country so close, if one didn't know better you would swear the sound was coming from the person that made it famous.
The night after school was out for the summer in 1959, Billy, his brother, three friends, and myself crammed in Billy's '50 black Ford and drove to Panama City, Florida, otherwise known as the Red-neck Riviera. That is where most of our high school friends were going.
We did not have much money. I had only $30 and that was more than anyone else in the car. We found a motel called Key of Rest Motel, which was a dump. It had no paved parking lot and you had to share a bathroom with the next room, and no air conditioning and the buildings were made of concrete blocks with no type of insulation, but that was fine for $8 a night. There were six of us, but the owner-lady charged by head. We told her there were four of us, which was $2 each. After we made the deal we went to the nearest package store and bought some Spearmen 8 six-packs of beer for $1.50 a six pack.
While driving around the area we ran into 5 or 6 more friends that did not have a place to stay. We invited them to stay with us. Then we played on the beach and layed in the sun.
I noticed that a sign on the beach put up by the City of Panama Beach, Florida, said, "No Colored Maids Allowed On Beaches With Bathing Suits". I thought that was very sad. We were living in a cast system and didn't even know it.
That night was a place called "The Hangout" which was a shelter overlooking the beach and the Gulf. The music was loud and people were dancing. Teenagers drunk their beer in the shadows and the police looked the other way unless there was trouble.
About 11pm we returned to our room at the Key of Rest Motel. I think there were about ten or eleven of us. We were feeling the effects of cheap beer and also feeling the effect of a Florida sun-burn. We could not possibly sleep against each other in a crowded room. One of us went through the bathroom to the other door to the other room and knocked on it. Nobody answered it. He eased the door opened and looked inside. It was all clean and ready for occupancy. About half of us moved to the newly discovered room. Needless to say, we had no pajamas. We slept in our jockey shorts.
In the middle of the night the door to the unpaid room opened. It was the lady owner showing the room to a newly wed couple. There was a bunch of screaming and hollaring.
We were evicted. The lady-owner checked our suit cases before we were allowed to leave. It is a good thing she did, she found four towels.
We had no place to go so we went to the beach. Panama City Beach has very beautiful soft white sand. So, each of us nestled us a comfortable mound of sand and fell asleep.
As I was sleeping I thought I heard the sound of a lawnmower approaching. Then, we were all showered with a chemical. What we didn't know was each night or early morning the City sprays the beach for insects... they ride by in a crop dusting kind of contraption that shoots out some type of insect killer.
That was about all of Panama City Beach we could take for that year. As I remember, we left sometime before noon that upcoming day.
We went to see Billy and his brother's uncle and aunt in Valdosta, Georgia. We ended up staying in the area for a week. After a couple of nights they decided there were just too many of us to sponge off them, so another uncle and aunt came and picked three or four of us up and carried us to their home in Tifton, Georgia.
The uncle that lived in Valdosta sung in a country and western band in a furniture warehouse every Tuesday night. Billy had never sung in public to a big gtoup of people before, but he was going to give it a try. The Tifton uncle and aunt carried us back down to Valdosta Saturday night for Billy's first time singing in public.
Billy did great. The crowd went wild. Also that night, Billy and his brother's mother and sisters came down from Marietta to hear him sing.
That next morning their mother carried us all back home to Marietta, except Billy, he stayed there for the summer singing.
After that he got a job singing in Savannah and later put out a record which became a hit and through the next dozen years or so he put out a string of hits and became quiet famous, here in metro Atlanta, anyway. Later, he became fairly popular in Las Vegas and Nashville. He stills sings professionally, and occasionally I hear him on the radio, but I don't think he has put out any top 40 kind of stuff in a while, but they still play his old top 40 songs.
Wednesday, May 22, 2019
Waterman Street School and the Escaped Bat
Back again at Waterman Street School.
When I was in the 7th Grade one warm spring evening, after dark, I saw a bat dive for bugs under the street light in front of house.
I heard that bats were blind and rely on their built-in-radar to sense bugs and attack them. I threw up a pebble and sure enough, a bat shot out of dark and zoomed right by the pebble. I suppose at the last moment it realized it wasn't a morsel of food and darted sideways. After throwing other pebbles up and watching the bat each time go after it, I developed a plan:
When a car came down the street I would throw a pebble directly in front of it but low.
When I did that, I did exactly that and the car hit my little bat friend.
The bat was dead, or so I thought.
I went back to the house and found a the kind of netted sacks oranges came in and put the bat in it. I forgot where I stored it overnight.
The next morning I carried it to school. I think my intention was to impress Mrs. King, my grades were borderline.
I always have had the habit of arriving early. School was no exception. In the hallway at school that morning I was standing outside our 7th grade talking to others waiting on the bell to ring. I had already showed my classmates standing there the dead bat in the netted sack.
Then, one, a little girl, said, "Look! Your bat is alive!"
I looked down and the little varmint was prying away the net and suddenly jumped out and became airborne.
It flew up and down the hallway outside the classrooms bumping into the wall, search for a way out.
When the kids realized what has going on the begin to panic and scream and run away from the area it was bumping into the ceiling and walls, but their running caused the bat to follow the movement, which they screamed even louder.
The principal, Miss. Whitehead, and the janitor, Cliff, came rushing to the scene with brooms.
Miss Whitehead ordered all the children into their classrooms. They ran into their rooms screaming.
I walked in with my head down, on thinking, I was going to get it.
And I did.
Not long after we were in our rooms Miss Whitehead came in, red faced, and told Mrs. King she wanted to have a word with me.
Out in the hall, red face and teary eyed, she wagged her finger at me and gave me a good chewing out. She told me she taught my father, and his brothers, and they were always pulling something, but nothing as bad as this. People could have been killed, stomped to death.
"DON'T YOU EVER, I MEAN EVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THIS AGAIN!!" Her snarling red face shouted at my frightened face, about 4 inches apart.
Oops!
When I was in the 7th Grade one warm spring evening, after dark, I saw a bat dive for bugs under the street light in front of house.
I heard that bats were blind and rely on their built-in-radar to sense bugs and attack them. I threw up a pebble and sure enough, a bat shot out of dark and zoomed right by the pebble. I suppose at the last moment it realized it wasn't a morsel of food and darted sideways. After throwing other pebbles up and watching the bat each time go after it, I developed a plan:
When a car came down the street I would throw a pebble directly in front of it but low.
When I did that, I did exactly that and the car hit my little bat friend.
The bat was dead, or so I thought.
I went back to the house and found a the kind of netted sacks oranges came in and put the bat in it. I forgot where I stored it overnight.
The next morning I carried it to school. I think my intention was to impress Mrs. King, my grades were borderline.
I always have had the habit of arriving early. School was no exception. In the hallway at school that morning I was standing outside our 7th grade talking to others waiting on the bell to ring. I had already showed my classmates standing there the dead bat in the netted sack.
Then, one, a little girl, said, "Look! Your bat is alive!"
I looked down and the little varmint was prying away the net and suddenly jumped out and became airborne.
It flew up and down the hallway outside the classrooms bumping into the wall, search for a way out.
When the kids realized what has going on the begin to panic and scream and run away from the area it was bumping into the ceiling and walls, but their running caused the bat to follow the movement, which they screamed even louder.
The principal, Miss. Whitehead, and the janitor, Cliff, came rushing to the scene with brooms.
Miss Whitehead ordered all the children into their classrooms. They ran into their rooms screaming.
I walked in with my head down, on thinking, I was going to get it.
And I did.
Not long after we were in our rooms Miss Whitehead came in, red faced, and told Mrs. King she wanted to have a word with me.
Out in the hall, red face and teary eyed, she wagged her finger at me and gave me a good chewing out. She told me she taught my father, and his brothers, and they were always pulling something, but nothing as bad as this. People could have been killed, stomped to death.
"DON'T YOU EVER, I MEAN EVER DO ANYTHING LIKE THIS AGAIN!!" Her snarling red face shouted at my frightened face, about 4 inches apart.
Oops!
Tuesday, May 21, 2019
Edith Hunter Sims
About 1979. Edith Hunter Sims (1908-1996). According to my genealogy software we are 1/2 first cousins, twice removed. At the time we met, in the 1970s Edith and her first cousin Eric "Joe" Hunter were the only living grandchildren of our ancestor Jason Henderson Hunter (abt 1817 - abt 1885), who was mine and my generation of Hunter first cousins great great grandfather.
For a few years she and her Joe came to the Hunter Reunions in Marietta and the bigger Hunter Reunion in Blairsville. Then she brought her two sons. One son was a big game hunter and owned a chain of saloons across the Southern United States. I think he told me his restaurants were decorated with his hunting trophies, such as deer heads, elk heads, and whatever. The other son was one of the founders and vice president of Holiday Inn. He lived in Memphis, and later retired and moved to Hot Springs, Arkansas, and bought his own bank.
One time Edith and her two sons were here the day before the Reunion and they wanted me to drive them around in their plush rented car and visit my uncles. At one uncle's house, who lived in an average income house, after we had a cordial visit, back in the car, the son who owned the bank reach for his beer, found it was warm, he lowered the window and toss the can onto my uncle's front lawn. That said a lot of how he probably felt about us.
A few years later Edith had a stroke and was blinded. When I was with Anna on a business trip to Memphis I drove to Jonesboro, Arkansas, and looked up her grave. She is in a big plot with the rest of her family and parents. I looked for Jason's grave in the same huge graveyard but could not find it.
For a few years she and her Joe came to the Hunter Reunions in Marietta and the bigger Hunter Reunion in Blairsville. Then she brought her two sons. One son was a big game hunter and owned a chain of saloons across the Southern United States. I think he told me his restaurants were decorated with his hunting trophies, such as deer heads, elk heads, and whatever. The other son was one of the founders and vice president of Holiday Inn. He lived in Memphis, and later retired and moved to Hot Springs, Arkansas, and bought his own bank.
One time Edith and her two sons were here the day before the Reunion and they wanted me to drive them around in their plush rented car and visit my uncles. At one uncle's house, who lived in an average income house, after we had a cordial visit, back in the car, the son who owned the bank reach for his beer, found it was warm, he lowered the window and toss the can onto my uncle's front lawn. That said a lot of how he probably felt about us.
A few years later Edith had a stroke and was blinded. When I was with Anna on a business trip to Memphis I drove to Jonesboro, Arkansas, and looked up her grave. She is in a big plot with the rest of her family and parents. I looked for Jason's grave in the same huge graveyard but could not find it.
Monday, May 20, 2019
Abercrombie House
This
house, I think was the Abercrombie house near Woodstock. A note said
it was built in the 1860s. My great uncle John Rafas Hunter
(1870-1940)'s daughter Emma Viola Hunter
married Andrew Joseph Abercrombie and this is the house they lived in
for a while before they moved to Birmingham for Andrew to work in the
steel mills.
I found the back porch interesting. When I was growing up south Marietta this type of porch was not unusual. Also, not unusual to see the lady of the house to come out on the porch with a dishpan full of soapy water and heave it out into the back yard.
I found the back porch interesting. When I was growing up south Marietta this type of porch was not unusual. Also, not unusual to see the lady of the house to come out on the porch with a dishpan full of soapy water and heave it out into the back yard.
Sunday, May 19, 2019
Saturday, May 18, 2019
Danel Webster and Sarajh Jane Garrett Petrty
My great grandparents Daniel Webster Petty (1843-1913) and Sarah Jane Garrett Petty (1850-1929).
Daniel was born in North Carolina, son of Elijah and Letty Lewis Petty. In 1849 his mother Letty Lewis died and the family moved to Fannin County, Georgia, where he grew up in and married Sarah Jane 1873.
Daniel, in the Civil War enlisted- Confederate Army Co B, 65th Regiment, Ga. Infantry. In the CSA he spent a lot of time in hospitals with stomach disorders - probably because of all his hospital time he switched over to orderly.
Daniel was born in North Carolina, son of Elijah and Letty Lewis Petty. In 1849 his mother Letty Lewis died and the family moved to Fannin County, Georgia, where he grew up in and married Sarah Jane 1873.
Daniel, in the Civil War enlisted- Confederate Army Co B, 65th Regiment, Ga. Infantry. In the CSA he spent a lot of time in hospitals with stomach disorders - probably because of all his hospital time he switched over to orderly.
The Daniel Webster Petty moved his family to Murray County, Georgia, in 1890.
Sarah Jane Garrett Petty was born in Fannin County,
daughter of Joseph and Nancy Elizabeth Mashburn. Some of her grandchildren (my mother's generation) believed Sarah Jane was a epileptic and other believed she drank too much. She was known to, if a grandkid, got within her reach, she would grab the kid and shake him or her.
Sarah Jane Garrett Petty was born in Fannin County,
daughter of Joseph and Nancy Elizabeth Mashburn. Some of her grandchildren (my mother's generation) believed Sarah Jane was a epileptic and other believed she drank too much. She was known to, if a grandkid, got within her reach, she would grab the kid and shake him or her.
Friday, May 17, 2019
Banksy Wanna Ba
We went to a concert in Woodstock last night. Lately each time I went through Woodstock I
saw this giant mural on the side of a
building. The mural is facing a narrow
street. It is impossible to stand back
and take one picture to get it all. It
has to be piecework. Whoever did this
mural I think was inspired by an underground graffiti in London whoes handle name is “Banksy.”
3 pictures were omitted because of lousy photography.
Thursday, May 16, 2019
Free Samples Report
Free Food Samples Report.
Local radio reports on fishing conditions have been around a long
time. They will tell you the best time
to fish in a particular lake for a particular kind of fish, based on predicted temperatures,
weather (rain, freezing, etc) and other factors I don’t know about.
I think it would be nice to have an on-line free-samples
report. Like you could tell what Costco
and BJS are being served at the
different stations, and is the server grouchy friendly or what.
And most importantly, does the server have a
good memory? Will they snap at you if
they catch you coming back for seconds?
Throwback Thursday Whoopee Cushion
Nell Campbell compared me to the other a Greek philosopher who died the way he wished, laughing at his joke. Well, I don’t know about dying laughing at my own joke. Once I know the punchline it is no longer funny, the element of surprise is gone. However the next best thing is giggling uncontrollably over a prank you were part of. True story: My aunt Opal worked in Atlanta close to a novelty store. There, she brought me a Poo-Poo cushion. I carried it to school. In phys Ed a few of us non-dress-ouster’s hung out in the bleachers and played with the poo poo cushion making farting sounds. I noticed Coach Lundy glaring at up from time to time. He finally came to us and demanded the cushion. About one or two periods later On the PA system my name and the others names involved with the poo poo cushion was told by Principal Lloyd Cox to report to the office. When we were all there and lined up Lloyd Cox whipped the inflated cushion out from behind him and squeezed it causing a loud long fart sound. We all burst out giggling. Lloyd said what was.so funny about that. I tried to explain the dramatic presentation with the sudden sound. Lloyd was in a rage which made us giggle more. He told us to stay in the adjoining office until the last bell for the day rang. We did. When the last bell sounded we left, going through Lloyd’s office. He wasn’t there. He was probably making sure people was leaving school in an orderly manner. We decided to look through his desk for the poo poo cushion. We found it. We blew it up and put it in Lloyd’s chair. By the way I read In the paper about a year ago that Lloyd Cox died in his middle 90s. Yesterday I read that his wife died at age 98,
Wednesday, May 15, 2019
Jack Daniel Tour
To be burned for the smoke taste in whiskey.
Jack Daniels' and the Master Brewery's humble office
The springs that supply water for Jack Daniels's Whiskey
Tour Guide
Tuesday, May 14, 2019
The Secret Laughing Place
The other day I was filling the bird feeders in the back yard when I heard a bush
shake. I turned to check it out and a
rabbit ran down the fence line and disappeared in a rose bush we have on the
fence.
Today I was spraying in the back yard and I heard a bush
rattle again. I looked up just in time
to see what I think is the same rabbit sprint for another thorny bush that he
quickly disappeared in.
I wonder if it has read Joel Chandler Harris’s Uncle Remus’s
“Brer Rabbit and His Secret Laughing Place”?
Monday, May 13, 2019
Why Isn't China Backing Down?
I heard on the news there is a reason China is not backing
down on the new high tariff rates: It
costs them nothing. They simply pass the
high tariffs on to the buyers in America
and they pass it on to the consumer: us.
Doris Day died today at age 97. Here is a Will Elder’s art-fun of the movie postrer LOVE ME OR LEAVE ME staring
Doris Day and James Cagney, in MAD #25. After
making movies she worked hard at defending helpless animals.
I still find myself humming her song in an Alfred Hitchcock move, “Que Sera, Sera” what will be will be.
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