Thursday, December 17, 2015

Comic Books, Cigars & Sex Education

  As first grade came and went, I survived school and actually kind of liked it.  At the end of second grade and the beginning of third grade Charles, J. W. & Rickey moved into Mr. Joe Parrish's house.  Every afternoon after school, we were bored and tired of being cooped up. Since we lived off  Broad St. we had about a mile hike everyday, and it carried us through downtown Headland.  As we hit Church St., just before the park square, across the street from The Thrift Store, there it was; Holley's Drug Store.
     Sometimes we would have enough change to buy a soda.  My favorite was a lemon sour.  Carbonated water, lemon juice, and salt; what could be better for a growing boy than that?  Really, buying a coke was just a cover, so that we could read comics at the magazine rack.  After reading about Spot run, and Dick and Jane do some crazy thing over and over again, we were ready for a good story.  And we were never disappointed.  Super Man, Batman and Robin, Dick Tracy, The Green Lantern, and The Flash kept us entertained for several days a week.  By the end of the month, we had read all the good comics and had to read Archie and Jughead, Donald Duck and Mickey Mouse.  Then Mighty Mouse would always come in at the last minute to save the day.  The first of the month would always bring in a fresh batch.  The Holly's were good patient people.  They never once complained about us being there.
     After we tired of reading those wonderful literary masterpieces, we would head out the door.  As soon as we walked out, the Thrift Store was directly in sight.  I would always look to see if a crowd was in front of the store.  It would take me a while to realize that the blacks only gathered there on Saturdays.  Then there would be a big enough crowd to make a Tarzan movie.  To get to the service station by the Headland National Bank, we had to go through the town square.  It was lined with big magnificent oaks that were already old in 1958, their canopy met and looked like a medieval cathedral ceiling.  Gave you a warm and secure feeling.  The square was a wonderland, with the walkways meeting in the middle and bushes planted all around.  The war memorial always amazed me.  In 1958 the soldier still had the rifle in his hand.  I guess he never did throw that grenade.
     Anyway, back at the service station, some of us would stay outside and a couple would go inside.  When they caught the attendant not looking, they would palm a pack of cigarettes.  If they were lucky, sometimes they could get a box of  Swisher Sweet cigars.  Man!, those were some great cigars.  After leaving there Wayne, J. W., Benny, Charles, Rickey, Walter and I would cut through the alley and hit Forrest Street.  There was a garage there that had a pin up calendar in the office.  We could see it through the window.  We were so young that we did not know what we were looking at, but we all seemed to like what we saw pretty well.  The mechanic would pick up a rock and throw it at us and we would run and laugh, happy that it was Charles that was hit and not us.
     At the end of Forrest St. at the intersection with Broad St. was a line of wooden warehouses.  They were all locked up(we checked), but they were built up off the ground, resting on brick pillars. The dirt was dug out a foot or so below grade.  We could almost stand up under the buildings, and there was enough debris laying around that we could build walls around us.  We were hidden from the world.  Safe in that cocoon, Wayne and J. W., being the oldest, educated us on the finer points of treating women like ladies.  We heard how to pick up girls, how to treat them, what to say to them.  Kind of ironic to have all this knowledge and being so afraid of them, that you could not use it.  And at 8 years old, for Pete's sake.
     All the while we were puffing on those cigars.  There was so much smoke pouring out from those buildings, I am surprised that the fire department did not show up.  I am not sure if all that smoke came from the cigars, because we all thought that we were pretty hot.  We learned a lot about girls (being very generous here), but it was all a failure.  None of us knew it at that point in time.  That did not matter, as we smoked, talked dirty, laughed and bragged.  Quite a sex ed. class.

Monday, November 23, 2015

Last Ride

This 16x20 inch oil on canvas painting, is one that I did  based on a photograph in the book "Indian Spirits"

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Red Hat

Just refinished a metal Red Hat feed sign.  Fun project.

Monday, October 19, 2015

Welfare Bear

When a young bear is afraid to cross a creek for fear that when his feet get wet he will melt, there is someone around who will help.  The problem is that the bear never learns that getting his feet wet is actually a good thing and that constantly demanding help is depriving him of the satisfaction of becoming independent. The older he becomes the heavier he gets. Also the older the man becomes, the weaker he gets. Carrying the bear every time across the creek is inviting the two to a disaster when the man can no longer tote the heavy load.  What will happen when they both fall into the creek?  Why do the two not build a bridge instead?

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Coca-Cola

I have always wanted one of these.  A customer brought in this button(49x49inches) painted red and wanted me to letter it.  Turned out pretty well, I think.

Friday, October 2, 2015

An Open Letter to Barack

     When I have been intercoursed by someone as many times as you, I feel that we should be on a first name basis.  I do not feel that you are the one to lecture me on gun violence.  It just does not make sense that someone who supports the slaughter of unborn babies for profit and giving Iran the atomic ability, would worry about my simple hand gun.  Just does not sound logical.
     Have you ever once considered that the removal of prayer and God from the public domain might have something to do with the violence?  What about bathing the White House with the gay rights rainbow?  Do you think that God died and left you in charge?  I think not.  What about the government encouraging young women to have out of wedlock babies so that they become slaves to the monthly government check?  It takes a man and a woman to raise a child properly.
     All of this boils down to a breakdown of society by disallowing God in the public arena, sponsored, in part, by you.  I am not allowed to judge you, but I can judge your action of lies and deceit.  I do have empathy and sympathy for the victims.  I also pray every night that you will turn to Jesus for the salvation of your soul and to help you run this country in a Godly manner.  When I become discouraged by the actions of you and all the government, He encourages me to pray and try harder to love you as He does.

Wednesday, September 30, 2015

Stone Pony

I have been  painting signs for thirty nine years, but this guy was doing that long before I was born.

Friday, September 11, 2015

Sharpening Stone

     As a child, growing up in rural Henry county, a couple hundred yards from the Dale county line, there was not a lot going on.  We had to find entertainment where it was.  Sometimes that was anything out of the ordinary.  Using the sharpening stone was just one such entertainment, and I was providing a valuable service in the meantime.  Or so I thought.  The stone was set up just outside the wash house, where Grannie did all the laundry.  I barely remember her boiling the clothes in an old syrup kettle, but then she was able to get an old wringer type washing machine.  Even though she got her hands caught several times, she was proud of that machine for it freed up half her day to do other chores, not realizing that she could just rest a little bit.  As a young boy, I had plenty of energy and turned that stone much faster than it should be.  If she looked out the window and saw me turning it, she would come out and admonish me to sharpen things a little slower.
     Whenever we drove up, daddy would always park near the wash house.  There was a spicket between the stone and the wash house.  Out of that faucet came the sweetest water that God ever created.  Starting with daddy we would stand in line and drink out of the spicket.  After daddy came Wane, Benny and then me.  I didn't mind though, because by the time I got my turn the water had cooled off.  I won't say that this is the fountain of youth, but since Benny inherited the home site, he should live a long and prosperous life.
     A couple of years ago, Sheila and I were cleaning out grandpa's gully.  I was looking for something that he had thrown away that I might could repurpose.  There was nothing that had any value, monetary or sentimental.  We sold all the scrap metal and burned the trash.  When that was completed I carried my backhoe over to dress up around the gully.  As I stood there surveying my next move, I looked down between my feet.  There, a broken stone looked up at me and smiled.  It was part of the sharpening stone that I had used over fifty five years ago.  No telling how many times we had stepped over it.  That meant more to me than any of the Indian artifacts I have found over there.

Tuesday, September 1, 2015

BOGO






 
 

 
 
New carving in cedar, that I just finished.

Thursday, August 27, 2015

Tuesday, August 11, 2015

Seconds in Eternity

     Sheila and I have been walking alone for a while now by ourselves.  I begin to look around and see others along the path.  The farther we walk, the more crowded it becomes, but there is no cause for alarm.  Along the ridgelines of the mountains and along the many pathways of the valleys, countless thousands of people are heading in the same direction.  If we looked across at the sea of people, it looks as if we are all stacked together, but at the space we were in, we all had plenty of room.  The farther we went the more the landscape changed.  It was hot, but we were comfortable, the way was steep, but we were not tired.  There was a sense of urgency, but we were not in a hurry.  When we started, the cool, flat valley floor, covered with a thick lush forest canopy, gave way to a steep and rocky path.  You would have thought that stepping on the sharp stones would have ruined our bare feet, but we had never felt so good.
     We were coming into the outskirts of a city and there, thirty feet in front of us was a Barbary lion slowly sauntering in front of us.  Strangely we were not afraid and longed to get closer, but as we moved, so did he.  Walking by the lion headed in our direction was a huge man with a bald head and grey skin.  Not only his size and looks concerned me, but also the fact that he was coming toward us.  The closer he got the more intense and wicked his stare became.  I tried to turn my gaze away from him, but knew that I shouldn't.  He brushed against me with deliberate meanness and twisted me halfway around.  His stare became a scowl as he grabbed my arm and said "Americans are beautiful".  He was a strong huge man and had me in a vise grip.  I knew if I didn't get free, I was doomed.  The wrath of God welled up in me and as I broke free, I spun around and hit him in the chin with a ridge hand. The force shattered his outer shell and it broke away in a fine powder.  What was left was a short, twisted, fat, hideous, bald  goat horned demon.  It slinked away on it's scaled belly, knowing that it could not hold up to my God. 
     Feeling confident after my encounter with the demon, we continued on into town.  We passed newly destroyed buildings, with the sides blown out and the roofs half holding on.  The road had turned into an obstacle course with immense holes and debris caused by bomb blasts.  The population has changed into a hurried, haggard Islamic group with turbans and burkas.  None of them seemed overly happy to see the influx of people different than they were.  The deeper into the city, the more threatening they became and it became downright scary to be there.  When I thought we could go no further without bodily harm, we rounded the corner and met up with a Jewish tour group.
     They were a welcome sight for us and we joined in their group but they did not mind us at all.  It was a small group, but they never ran out of people heading into the doorway.  The doorman was a local well known meteorologist, Conner Vernon, who handed out the dinner plates, as large as platters, still wrapped in packaging paper.   According to him we could eat all that we wanted and the meal was free. When I reached for the plate, we were immediately changed.  We received our new bodies and watched as the Christians who were left alive on earth rose as a giant white cloud, receiving their new glorified bodies.  We all looked at each other and knew each other in what seemed as an eternity, but was over in the twinkling of an eye.   The all you can eat buffet was paid for in full by Jesus.  What a spread it was, anything you can imagine was on the buffet, vegetables, meats, gravy, sweets and bread.  I piled my plate high with some of it all, covering my food with cheeses, gravies and sugary sweets.  Somehow I knew it wouldn't harm me, regardless of how much I ate.  No matter how much I piled on, the plate held it.
     The dining area was a large outdoor arena surrounded by pink quartz rock mountains.  It took us a long walk to get to the dining table.  We walked along the pathway leading to the valley below.  The path was now smooth and easy to walk.  We could see that the valley was enormous and filled almost to capacity.  In the center was a bright light and everyone was trying to get as close to it as they could.  The amazing thing was, everyone was able to get a seat within a few feet of the light.  God's arena was finally filled to capacity and everyone was able to enjoy the Marriage Feast of the Lamb.  We seemed to be there forever, but we knew that it was only seven years.  After the feast, everyone there walked to the stables and mounted the white horses that were there.  I climbed onto Princess, who had been black in life, but now in eternity was white.  We were all swimming in time and it only took us a few seconds for all the millions to saddle up, however it could have been an eternity.  As soon as everyone was saddled up, we lined up behind the King of Kings and took off to participate in His return.

Thursday, July 23, 2015

Me and the Squirrel

     Last week, Sheila and I went to the Florida Caverns in Marianna.  As usual we did not plan the trip, we just got in the car and went.  When we arrived at the check in shack, the attendant informed us that the cave tours were closed on Tuesdays and Wednesdays.  Since we had driven that far, we decided to enter anyway.  The attendant told us there was Tunnel Cave that we could go in on our own, but that it would require us to stoop over the entire length.  We forgot that we had over six decades on our bodies, but when I drove off and looked in the rearview mirror, I could see him chuckling.  Evidently he knew something we didn't.
     It was lunch time so when we arrived at the parking lot, we grabbed a table, walked to use the bathroom and wash our hands.  The day was one of the hottest of the year, but in the shade with a breeze, it was not too bad.  Sheila covered the table and laid out everything.  I grabbed a chair and sat down.  We were almost through eating and had thrown bread crumbs to the squirrels at the front of the car.  I grabbed up the bread box to close it.  As I moved it closer to me a brown twig fell into it.  I thought it was a piece of moss as I saw it laying on the bottom of the Tupperware.  When I reached in to retrieve it, it felt like a piece of modeling clay.  Instinctively I held it up to my nose.  Lo and behold it was a piece of squirrel turd.  I figured that out because there was a squirrel over my head in the vines.  You know I said something ugly and Sheila laughed out loud.  At that moment, he dropped a piece of bark that hit her in the head.  That ended the laughter(for her) not me.
     I had to go wash my hands, but my left hand was useless for the rest of that day.  We decided to walk down to Tunnel Cave.  It was sorta cool in the woods and we reached the entrance after a few minutes.  I knew I was in a mess, because Sheila never backs down from challenge.  Once we were in the woods on the farm and came up on a thicket of bramble vines, I wanted to turn around and go back another way.  She would not have any of that.  "The clearing is just right there", she said and took off.  I couldn't be outdone by a girl so I had to go too.  When we reached the clearing, we both had blood streaming down our legs and my jeans were shredded. 
     As she looked at the entrance, she knew we would have to crawl through the mud to the other side, over a hundred yards away.  "I ain't going through that!" she stated.  "Whew" came out before I could stop it.  She turned to look at me and raised her right hand to catch the word, idiot, as it came out of her mouth.  She strangled it and tossed it to the ground, but I noticed she didn't crush it with her heel as it writhed around.  We walked around to the other side and the exit was smaller than it appeared from the other side.  As we exited the woods on the path, there was the car, just thirty feet away.  Several squirrels were eating the bread crumbs that we had thrown earlier.  One in particular was under the car just in front of the front wheel.  They all had smirks on their dirty little faces, but the one under the car was laughing at me.  I pulled my remote out  of my pocket and mashed the horn button.  They scattered in all directions, but the one under the car jumped straight up, forgetting where he was.  He busted his little head, fell to the ground, kicking his little feet.  When he regained his composure, he jumped up and scurried off to the nearest tree on his wobbly legs.  He had a hard time getting his feet to grab the trunk.  I had the last laugh, so I guess that made me the winner.

Wednesday, July 22, 2015

Red Skin

16x20" oil on canvas

Tuesday, July 14, 2015

Sunday Afternoon


Sunday afternoons were a special time at grandpa's.  After working hard in the fields all week, he would drag up the yellow metal lawn chairs to the pecan tree.  It sat in the front yard by the dirt road.  He would throw his feet up against the bark, lean back and talk to anyone who was around.  With his outgoing personality, people would gather under the tree to talk and listen.  Every once in a while there would be some 'shine brought to the discussion.  His fields were always the greenest in the area, for when the 'shine flowed the bull shit increased.  His property went downhill from the tree and the bull manure flowed to the edges of his property.  His little investment in the corn squeezing  paid off in the long run.
I painted the gathering around the tree from memory, however I just found this photo of my grandfather relaxing on Sunday afternoon.

Monday, July 13, 2015

I Hate Death

It has been three days now Mom, that I have been without you.  For the last year I knew something was wrong, you had lost so much weight and had a smell about you.  I felt if I ignored it that it would go away.  Then when you fell over a month ago I knew there was something terribly wrong.  What could I do anyway, but dread the inevitable?  After a few hours you were able to get up and around, but it took a couple of weeks to get over that.  Then the storm came and broke the black walnut tree so that we could eat the leaves.  The next day you could hardly walk.  For a couple of days, Charles kept a close eye on you, but you only got worse.
     When he locked me in the barn at feeding time,  I could sense that something was going on.  He stood outside with you on a halter and fed you more than you usually get.  After you finished eating, he brought me out to see you.  We nuzzled each other and you kissed me, he then put me back in the barn.  After an hour or so he released me and you and we went to the pasture.  That did not last long, for a man drove up in a truck and Charles locked me in the barn again.  I knew they were going for you and I could not stand the thoughts of that.  When I got to the black walnut tree, I saw you lying motionless on the ground.  I walked over and tried to nudge you to get you up.  You would not budge and I could smell the death on you.
     Charles locked me in the barn again, but I was able with my nose to push the door back again.  At this time the backhoe was beside you and Charles was digging the dirt.  He stopped and carried me back to the barn again and tied me up this time.  I broke the rope and got out again, ran to where you were lying in the hole.  I whimpered, whined and cried, but you would not move or even try to get up.  I panicked and ran every which way dragging the rope.  I stepped on it a couple of times and Charles stopped what he was doing and removed the halter from me, so that I would not harm myself .  He let me stay and watch as he dumped dirt on top of you.  Why wouldn't you get up and run?  I have been by your side for twenty two years and I could not understand why this was happening. 
     I cried all that night, running to and fro.  I was so tired the next morning, but I was still looking for you.  When he fed me, Charles told me that you had foundered on the leaves.  The vet told him that you had liver disease and regardless of how much he fed you, you would never get your weight back.  I ate the leaves also, but my liver was able to withstand the toxins.  I have calmed down some, what choice do I have?  I miss you and I hate death.

Tuesday, June 30, 2015

Windmill

I walked out to the pond this morning and just had to take photo of the windmill and it's reflection in the water.  I did some hard work on restoring this mill and also digging the pond, but it was well worth it.

Monday, June 22, 2015

Chief

The shop is doing so bad that I decided to get out my bow and arrow to try and get supper.  16x20 inches oil on canvas. 
For Sale  225.00

Thursday, June 4, 2015

Chickens

This is a 16x20 inch oil on canvas painting. All of the original artwork on this blog is for sale.  If interested e-mail charles@candssigns.com for details.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

Big Sky

16x20 inches acrylic on canvas.

Wednesday, May 20, 2015

Corn Meal Soup

When I need relief from an irritated stomach, I rustle up some of Daddy Frank's corn meal soup. It always seems to work.  His recipe was water mixed with bacon grease, lard, salt, black pepper and a quarter cup of Adam's corn meal diluted with a cup of water added when the other ingredients came to a boil.  I have substituted chicken broth for water and bacon grease.  I sometimes add cube potatoes and onions.  Boil until the potatoes are done.

Tuesday, May 5, 2015

Alabama Tourist

sixteen by twenty inches oil on canvas.

Tuesday, April 14, 2015

Kuta Kin Tay Vs. Buster

     In December my old 8-N Ford tractor's transmission locked up and I could not repair it.  After twenty eight years of owning the sixty four year old tractor I was ready for a change anyway.  I bought a forty two horsepower Mahindra and it, for me was a luxury.  Power steering, lights, diesel and plenty of power. The best feature in my opinion was the horn; perfect for messing with the dog and horses.  When I sold the 8-N, I also sold the bush hog(rotary cutter).  So a couple of weeks ago I drove over to Ray Dean's Farm Equipment and bought a new one.
     On the drive home I thought about the cool spring morning several years ago.  There was just a hint of fog in the air and with the sun trying to come through, it was a soft golden glow.  The rain had been plentiful that year and the weeds were up pretty high.  I had not used the bush hog for a few months and it was still hooked to the tractor.  I did my maintenance  check on the tractor and as I walked behind the bush hog, I could see signs of rats moving loose hay under the mower.
     As I climbed onto the tractor, my mind was in a faraway place.  I turned the key, pressed the starter and listened as it wound itself up.  When it fired up there was a loud bang when the gas exploded and a thick cloud of blue smoke billowed out from the busted muffler.  Sighing with relief I engaged the pto, shifted into gear and popped the clutch.  The wailing banshee racket that came from behind me made me jump with a start.  As I quickly turned to look back with wide eyes I saw the two cats as they came out of the back of the bush hog.  Both of them were spread eagled, fur standing straight out, eyes wide as silver dollars, mouths open and screaming.  Each had a twelve inch yellow stick turd sticking out, that did not break until they hit the ground some twenty feet away.  They were flat cats stuck on a stick. 
     Kuta Kin Tay hit the ground first and just lay there.  Buster hit the ground and never stopped.  His feet were moving at a breakneck speed before he could get any traction.  As he rounded the corner of the barn he dropped another stick.  Kuta was named after the character from "Roots" and as you can imagine she was black.  She finally came around and sauntered off into the woods.  Kuta   was pretty old at this time.  She did not like the other cats and tried to stay away from them.  Buster on the other hand was a young yellow tabby that bullied the other cats, trying to run them off.  I know that Kuta was under the mower trying to get away from Buster.  She came home in a couple of days, but Buster stayed away for over a week.  For a long time he would not get within ten feet of Kuta.  I guess he thought she whipped his butt pretty good and he would give her a wide berth.  She took advantage of that, laying in a semi circle, her head on her paws and her tail curled up around her head.  When he got close, she would crack her left eye lid and give him the evil eye.  He would get down low to the ground and slink off.

Friday, April 3, 2015

Thank You

Thank You for paying my sin debt.

Friday, March 27, 2015

Walk on by

Just playing around with an ink pen, relaxing after a hard day.

Friday, March 20, 2015

Joshua's Revenge

   In my previous post, I made fun of God telling Joshua that he was old.  Evidently Joshua heard about it and was not that amused.  Last week I climbed onto my backhoe, heard a rifle shot and my leg buckled under me.  Well Jason finally got the nerve to shoot me.  However it was a torn tendon in the back of my knee.  What a relief. 
     The vision in my left eye was messing up and the doctor told me that I had a wrinkle on the inside of my eyeball. How Joshua must have laughed, and I don't blame him.  You know you are getting old when you get wrinkles on the inside of your eyeball.  I also had high pressure in the left eye due to a stopped up drain hole.  Monday I went back to see what to do about that.  Before I left for my appointment, after a visit to the toilet I threw my back out after trying to pull up my pants.  Nothing like back pain to make you forget about a torn tendon in your knee.  Pain makes you feel alive, so until I pass on I guess that I will be full of life.
     After the exam, the doc told me, "We are going to take you back and do surgery on your right eye."   "Doc it was my left eye," and pointed to my left eye.  "Your right eye is 98% blocked and if it stops up completely, you will be blind in a matter of hours.  You will come back Friday to do the left eye."  So Joshua, I still think it is hilarious what God told you, but I have a little more respect for you now.
    

Thursday, March 12, 2015

Hold Your Arms Out

     For eight years, Sheila and I have been in a terrible place.  A cold, dark and lonely place that I would not wish on anyone, even the one that put us here.  I hesitate to call it hell, because while we were here we have grown closer to God.  In this place there is no comfort from family or friends for we have neither.  The only ones that understand or care are me, Sheila and God.  Sheila is in the same predicament as I and has no more an idea for a solution than I do.  We just wallow in self pity and blame the same person.  However we have both had conversations with God that have helped us through.
     I have made contact with the culprit several times and his kindest remark was, "Quit feeling sorry for yourself, get over it and move on with your life.  This has been the happiest two and a half years of my life."  Several years ago my response would have been a swift and immediate physical reaction that he would not have liked.  However he had a power over me that I could not fight.  Regardless of what happened, he would be the hero and I, the villain.  He knew it and so did I.
     Sheila has had a hard time dealing with this also.  This was not the only thing happening to us.  The sheriff's department had strip searched my sixteen year old daughter at a private residence.  Sheila is like a mother bear when her cubs are threatened.  It took years but, we finally prevailed in court.  Note to everyone, don't get caught up in law enforcement's web.  While this was going on the state of Alabama was trying to force us into installing a turn lane onto Hwy 84.  The cost of this would have been close to a hundred thousand dollars.  While this was going on a full scale war was going on against us, but we couldn't see it for the other wars we were waging.
     The attack came on subtly at first and we did not perceive any problem.  As time went by the attack became more apparent, especially to Sheila, who was bearing the full onslaught.  It was coming from a source that no one would believe, not even me.  When Sheila told me what was happening, I was in denial.  I was sure something else was going on, but I was wrong.  It continued to get worse and I was forced to see it.  And see it I did.  I had heard of this happening only once in my life.  The couple that this happened to was a Godly couple, that taught Sunday School in our church.  It did end for them, after thirty seven years, before they died.  But the time that was lost to them was just that, lost.
     Unless you go through it or walk in my shoes as the saying goes you have no idea of the damage that is done to you, physically, mentally or spiritually.  Years of laying awake at night wondering what went wrong, what I could have done to prevent it and why the hell did I not just whip his ass to start with.
     Sheila is a strong woman, but this is almost more than she can handle.  She had her Dakota to help her cope, but she was called home early.  I almost lost Sheila at that point, however God stepped in and showed Sheila that Dakota was with Him and they would be reunited.  She and I have had visions of heavenly things, that have helped us to cope.  She told me the story of God telling Joshua "Joshua, you are getting old."  At once that was hilarious to me.  I have laughed out loud several times as I think of this.  When God tells you that you are old, then you are old.  I hope that Joshua has a sense of humor.
     She told me of standing on a steep cliff watching angels rescuing people from the edges.  Frightened she did not know what to do.  An angel approaching, yelled to her, "Hold your arms out."  She held her arms out in front and he yelled at her more frantically, "Hold them out wide!"  She did and he grabbed her up in his hands to keep her in her way, lest she dashed her foot against a stone.
     I, Sheila and the other two have paid a high price for your eight years of happiness.  It was not worth it and I am sorry you can't see that.

Wednesday, January 28, 2015

Cock of the Walk

     In the spring of 1956, our family moved from my grandparents farm to the outskirts of Headland.  We rented a house from Mr. Joe Parrish.  This particular Saturday, mom was cleaning and dad was off with uncle Tex fishing.  They left it up to Wayne, who was ten, to look after me and Benny.  I guess for a while he did pretty well, but since he was all macho man, we had to head off to the Cock of the Walk fertilizer building.  It was the largest building I had ever seen.  One hundred feet high and wide and three hundred feet long.  It was made out of asbestos sheets for the roof and sides.  It had a walkway at the top that ran the length of the building, with a row of windows on each side.  Most of the panes were broken.  Not by us, we could throw rocks pretty well, but they were too far off for our young arms.  The train tracks were on the other side, and the loading dock ran the length of the building, with piles of pallets and cardboard.
    The big doors were locked, but as small children, we could slip between them and the building and go inside.  There it was, on the inside, was our personal playground.  The white powder bat guano was piled to the ceiling.  Three different piles, each just a shade different.  Wayne had been there before and knew to bring a piece of cardboard from the loading dock. Motioning for us to follow, he headed up the stairs to the cat walk.  That was the best thing we had ever done.  Our hearts were pounding from the excitement of breaking in and the height of the stairs.  We could barely contain ourselves.  The bat doo-doo was about five feet below the catwalk, and sloped to the bottom in a cone shape.  Wayne jumped with the cardboard, hit with a smack and started sliding downhill fast as lightening.  Benny and I jumped onto our cardboard sled and followed after him. The dust from the commotion we caused was billowing up all around and made it hard to breath. Wayne was going so fast that we couldn't catch up, and he couldn't stop.  Just as he reached the bottom, he rolled off head first, only feet away from smashing into the wall.  When we reached him, all we could see were his legs sticking out of the bat crap, and kicking like crazy, up and down.  We grabbed a leg each and pulled him out.  We were laughing at him and embarrassed as he was he bounced each of us on the side of our heads.  Smaller and younger, though we were, we bounced back.
     When we tired of blood and bat crap, Wayne showed us some dynamite that they used to break up the guano when it clumped together.  Now at this moment, fifty eight years later, I know what happened to the windows.  It also explains why we could slip inside the doors.  Wonder if the building is still standing.  Wayne was smart enough to take only the blasting caps and fuses.  I think he knew that the dynamite was too dangerous.  On the loading dock was a three foot length of 2" pipe, a cinder block and an unlimited supply of rocks from the train tracks.  And every kid worth his salt, had a cigarette  lighter.  Well, with all these ingredients for a fun filled Saturday afternoon, what could possibly go wrong?
     Instead of aiming the primitive mortar across the tracks to the empty field, Wayne pointed it at the red house, a quarter mile away.   Wayne lit the fuse to the blasting cap, dropped it into the pipe, Benny dropped in a big rock and I got the hell out of the way.  No need to worry, the rock came out the end of the pipe pretty as you please.  You could see it flow through the sky and land on the tin roof of the red house with a loud bang.  The folks in the house
 scattered out of there like red wasps coming off the nest when you hit it with a corncob.  They heard thunder and the sky fell on them.  They were hauling ass somewhere, but where?  They never figured out what happened.  Are you going to tell them?  I sure as heck ain't.

Thursday, January 8, 2015

Growing up Auburn

I just ran across this photo of a painting I did a few years ago.  I was commissioned by a family to paint their son with his toys on the family farm.  Obviously they also like John Deere.