WARNING!!!! DO NOT READ BEFORE MEALS

Some things will not be forgotten, even by trying, and since the world is round, everything happens over and over again. Different day same stuff. Back in the day, grandpa would go around the community, during the growing season and get kids to help hoe the peanuts. It started at daylight, before the dew dried up, You would walk through the grass at the end of the row and your pants legs would be soaking wet. Believe it or not at that time of the morning it was cold on my skinny legs. Come about 10 o'clock, I wished for that coolness. One of the perks of working for grandpa, was that grannie would feed you lunch. And oh what a meal. The best cook in the state of Alabama, she would have fried chicken, all you could eat, turnips, purple hull peas, butter beans, mac and cheese, and corn bread good enough to kill for. Dr. Danny Nowell still talks about her tea cakes.


Any way, there was 5 or 6 kids, grandpa, grannie, and me, fixing our plates before we sat down and blessed the meal. Noise so thick you could not think, and then it happened. I don't know why I was looking at the kid, but just as I glanced over, his nose discharged. Green and shiny, he tried to pull it out, but it stretched out as long as his arm, so he doubled up and grabbed it again, One of his buddies took a pocket knife and cut it loose. I don't know what happened after that, I was having a discharge of my own.

Several decades went by and Sheila and I were trying to figure out a vacation destination. Glenn Jones and Joe Walden came into the shop to order some signs for the nuclear plant. During the conversation, Glenn(a regular customer) and Sheila began to talk about places to go. Glenn and Joe, both at the same time said "Cedar Key". I had never heard of it, but they assured us that it was the destination spot of the century. I don't know why they were so mad with us. We never make reservations, we just go and have always found a good place to spend the week.

We should have known at the Hardees in Tallahassee to turn around and go back home. Standing in line to order a breakfast biscuit, I noticed that the guy in front of us was a free spirit. A long, dirty, gray, and stringy ponytail was his best feature. He had on a dirty t-shirt, shorts and flip-flops, and the flops were the icing on the cake. His feet had not been washed in a while, and the lamisel monster had established a major city under his toe nails. They were about an inch long, curling up at the ends, wrinkled, and yellow. They looked like shelled pecans that he had glued to his toes. I was elbowing sheila to get her attention, It was like a train wreck and you wanted someone else to see it with you. She was oblivious to me, her attention was elsewhere, and when I found out where It was not a pretty sight.
Standing beside the lamisel man was his significant other. Some where in America, somebody will give you soap and shampoo. The first thing I noticed about her was her greying hair. No wait, that was not hair that was grey. Her shoulders were covered with a fresh frosting of snow, but not the wet kind, and it was coming from her head. We toughed all that out because we were hungry, and we tried to ignore it. I have a weak stomach in the best of times, but I did want a sausage biscuit, and now without the white gravy. Ok, we made it to the counter, and the black girl asked for our order. When I looked up, I could see that she had already sampled the gravy biscuit, because the gravy was stuck in each corner of her mouth. No, I replied, I left my wallet in the car.
We did stop and eat somewhere further down the road. Cedar Key is a long way off the interstate, and it was almost dark by the time we got there and found a place to stay. We went out that night and had a good seafood dinner and a few drinks. Next morning we got up and walked through the town. Did not take long, it is smaller than Headland. I thought Cowarts was full of rednecks, but they look downright sophisticated compared to these folks. We found a small cafe that was still serving breakfast, so we strolled in and grabbed a seat. I think Sheila is smarter than I am, because she took the seat facing away from the kitchen, Word of advice; do not sit where you can see the cook. We had finished our coffee and orange juice, and lo and behold, I thought I was back at grandpa's kitchen table. About the time I looked at the cook, she was pulling a wet green string out of her nose. It went to the end of her arm and she had to double up on it and pull again. It finally broke free and popped her fingers with a snap. Well, what do you know, it's time for me to go. We wound up at Indian River and had a good time for the rest of the trip. Moral of the story: Do not sit where you can see the cook.

FLUTE, XYLOPHONE, PIANO

I woke up at 5:30 this morning, after a good nights sleep. I looked over at the clock and saw that I had 30 more minutes before I had to get up. The bed was warm and comfortable, but I was tossing and turning with the problems of my daughter and her husband, and my parents and brother. My mind was racing like it was on caffeine. Should I have done things differently, should I have not interfered when my son-in-law assaulted my wife? Now what kind of man would I be if I allowed that? Then it swings over to my parents and the things that have happened there. Could I have done any different? No, it was out of my control.
My soul was a hard knot, hiding under my heart and weighing as much as the world. From the far corners of my mind, I could hear the soft low sounds of a flute,lightly floating over into my conscience. Closer and more clear it became, with the wondrous rhythem of a man and a woman. Then I could hear the xylophone with the soft taps. This continued to soothe my soul for a few minutes and then the piano joined in from the low end. Beautiful and soothing, the sound loosened the knot of my soul and it began to grow and spread.
As all the instruments joined togather and became louder and the tempo became faster, my soul soared and and grew lighter. Brightness was feeling warm on my face and I looked toward the heavens. As the music reached another level, I could see the countenance of God. My soul was filled with relief and joy unspeakable. I could feel God touching my soul with the soothing sounds of the music. Heaven must be a wonderful place. It could not get any better and I never wanted to leave.
The joy and peace is shattered. What in the world is that horrible, awful, terrible tormented sound? Oh no!!! It is the alarm clock. What a sad dissappointment. Oh well, I got up with a smile on my face and a spring in my step. When you all see an old person sitting with their eyes closed, they may not be asleep. They may be basking in the glow and letting God replenish their soul with the beautiful music playing in their minds, remembering things that were and never will be again.
No, Virginia I am not on drugs.

Our Move to Town

In late spring of 1956 we moved out of the country into Headland. Mr. Joe Parrish owned the house and lived next door. On the other side of his house was Cleveland Lee's garage. On the other side of us was another house that sat next to the Methodist cemetery. Across the road was Roy Henderson's store. a vegetable processing plant, and closer to town was the Cock of the Walk fertilizer plant. Between there and town lived Alto White and his family.
They were like the Limpnicke's, only much more intense. Several boys, a couple of girls, and Mr. & Mrs White, lived in a small rundown two-room house. The boys were older and looked mean as fire. Wayne and one of the boys (Eston) had gotten into a fight at school and it followed them home. We had a rock throwing duel at the cemetery. The boys were mean, but they could not throw rocks very well. As you recall from another blog, Wayne had a pretty good throwing arm, and to survive Benny and I had to be able to throw back at him. We were on one side and they were on the other. When all the rocks were gone from the center and piled up on each side, we all had cuts and bruises. We had expended our anger and our energy was spent. That gave us an opportunity to call a truce.
One of''m asked us to go to their home and play. Wayne said o.k. Not the last time he led Benny and me down the wrong road. It was dark when we got there and we went inside. The house was jumbled up like crazy, with stuff piled on top of stuff, stuff lined up against the wall. I think the house walls may have just been stuff. With just a small walkway from the front of the house to the back, it was really the only place to stand. A small child or animal probably would have gotten lost. I was six and I was worried.
Once everything settled down, the older boys got their B B gun and loaded it with a broom straw with a needle pushed about halfway into it. One would shoot and the other dummy would hold his hand against the wall with his fingers spread apart. If the shooter missed his finger, he would get to shoot again. If he hit his finger, the one that got hit would cackle with glee, because it was his turn to shoot. There was blood everywhere on the wall. I was a green hay seed of a boy, fresh off the farm, but I had better sense than that. I called them dummies, but we were the ones that were throwing rocks at them.
Wayne and I were talking about this a couple of weeks ago and he said that he participated in that game. I let him know that I was concerned about his sanity.
Dad told us that Mr. white lost his arm trying to dynamite fish. He had his arm raised to toss the dynamite in the pond, when lightening struck him detonating the dynamite. He also had a stick in his back pocket. When he came to, a bull was coming up to him and he ran to the fence. He realized his arm was gone when he tried to grab the fence and jump.
Some one carried him to Moody's Hospital in Dothan. The doctor thought that he dead and just moved him over into the corner. After about 30 minutes he raised up and said, Hell, doc are you going to help me or not? I thought that you were already dead, said the doc. Mr. white replied, Not yet, no thanks to you. Now that is a tough old bird. He lost his arm to one stick, no telling what damage the one in his back pocket did. That bull doesn't know how lucky he was that Mr. White got away.
I started first grade that fall and ran into Walter Oates. Some of you know him and some of you are related to him. In the coming weeks I will tell on us. Tell him not to worry, I checked on the statute of limitations and we are safe.