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.

Gloom, Despair, and Rejoicing

Laying in bed a few nights ago, the cares of this world began to crowd in very tightly on me. We had taken on the daunting task of reworking our home. As you know, one thing leads to another. Paint the garage, the foyer looks bad, paint the foyer, the kitchen looks bad, so on and on. Doing the work at night and on weekends gets old in a hurry, but you can't get off the ride until it stops. When the paint looks good, then the carpet and cabinets look as if they need to be replaced. Well hell, why not put hardwood in the dining room? Ok, we adjusted to that, we'll just put it in all the downstairs. Why, we can't leave off the kitchen cabinets. Thank goodness I can do the back splashes for the stove and sink.


If you have ever been self employed, you know that some months are not going to be as good as other ones. That's what happened to us. We are spending money and the work stops. Even though it is budgeted, you are plagued by the thought that maybe you should hold on to this money at this time. You would think that I would be used to this cycle by now, but I am not. I know from past experience that it will pick up again and soon. For the last fifteen years we have been having serious problems with our children. We have 2 granddaughters that live only a couple of miles away from here, and we haven't seen them for 18 months; not our choice, because we dearly love them and it keeps us up at night. Then my neighbor after 22 years and a survey that she did 5 years ago, now says that the line is on her 50'. So now you know the mindset that I was in when I turned in for the night.


This night was different, the weight of the world was crashing in on me, and blacker than night despair was making itself known, each breath was hard to come by and my heart was pounding. Tossing back and forth, to and fro, up and down I could not get any relief. My legs hurt, my back was sore, I could not get any relief. I know that God through His Son will take care of everything, but I am only a man, and need to be reminded of this fact every once in a while. When I called on His name, everything suddenly became clear. I was held in place by His loving arms, as the ground was jerked out from under me. I could not have fallen if I wanted to. I could see the earth below me, with people floating around at every imaginable height, going in and out of the clouds effortlessly and contented. It was not the black night that I had just experienced, but just twilight enough to see everything clearly. I heard a strong voice inside my head, "If I can hold you up over all of this, without touching you, then you can rest assured that I will take care of you and the cares of this world will not reach you. I am sufficient for all your needs, and will meet all of your physical, spiritual, and emotional needs."
That allowed me to have the best night's sleep that I have had in a long while.He reminded me and wanted me to tell ya'll that whatever it is in your life that is trying to take over, that He is in control and will keep us until the end.
Since this blog goes directly to facebook, some of my friends will remember me in high school as a drinker and all around unsavory character. So, why should you believe or listen to me? Good question. Saul persecuted and killed Christians before he saw the Light on the Damascus road and changed his name to Paul. Look at what God did through him. I have not killed anyone, but I have done some stuff. If Jesus looked at me from the cross 2000 years ago, and said I am doing this for you and everyone else that will listen and believe, just imagine what He can and will do for you.

Broken Heart and Backache

About 2 weeks before Thanksgiving, Sheila and I began painting the interior of the house. It all started 2 years ago when we painted the garage. I have dealt with paint all of my adult life and I knew better when I asked the clerk how much paint I would need. As I was walking out the door with 7 gallons of paint I knew I had just had a senior moment. We used 3 gallons. Sheila, being the tight ass that she was called by Gary Kirkland, our banker. was not about to waste that extra 4 gallons. So she started painting the utility room, the laundry room, the entrance from the garage, her closet, and under the stairs. When she finally used up that paint, the rest of the house really needed painting. That's where I came in to the picture. All the trim work had to be painted in the kitchen and bathrooms. Since they had wallpaper we did not paint in there.
We would work during the day and paint at night. Originally the color throughout the house was seashell, which is a very pale pink. You really have to be secure in your masculinity to live in a pink house. We really went dark with earth tones in each room, with three colors in the hall. All the furniture in each room had to be moved and then put back in place. During Christmas and new years we closed the shop and painted day and night for those two weeks. Last Thursday we were finished except for the trim in our bedroom. Two hours and we were going to be finished. Just move the furniture back in and relax.
When I came in from work I did not find Sheila downstairs, so I hollered for her. I'm upstairs she replied, but you're not going to like what I'm doing. My heart dropped, I had been picking up signals for several weeks, and had seen the far away look in her eyes. What am I to do? I did not see any vehicle when I came home. Do I go upstairs, or do I leave? I decide that I am going to be a man and go see what she is doing. By the time I get to the bottom of the stairs, I am feeling very oppressed. It is hard to put one foot in front of the other. Halfway up I can hardly carry the weight on my shoulders. At the top my feet are so heavy I can barely lift them, my heart is pounding like jackhammer. As I walk around the furniture, the silence is overwhelming, the bedroom is empty except for the ladder standing in the middle of the room. Oh no.......there she is in the dressing room. I don't know whether to be mad or fall on my face and cry like a little girl. What am I to do? She is knee deep in wallpaper and I am so tired. Sheila, I thought that we were going to rest up before doing this. Well, she replied, I had a few hours to kill and wanted to see how hard it was going to be, to strip this paper off. Today is Tuesday and we still have 3 to 4 hours in that room and the hall bathroom and the half bath downstairs to do. By the time this job is over I will be an old man.

Smoky Morning

My daily routine starts out with bible reading, coffee from 6:30 until 8, then I eat and go outside to feed the dogs and horses. It was cold and crisp this morning, and when I walked out the barn through the stall, the dogs were taking off like bullets out of a gun barrel. Looking down the path that the horses had packed down, I could see the woods, with the trees in front and I could smell and see the smoke wafting up from a pecan tree that I had piled up and burned last weekend. The sight and smell carried me back to the early 50's when all the neighbors gathered at grandpa's to have a hog killing. I know that it sounds cruel and if you were a hog, it probably was. However if the people did not get the meat and prepare it for winter, most of them would starve to death. The person hosting the killing would get the majority of the meat and the rest would be paid in meat.

That morning was bitterly cold and we were all outside at the crack of dawn. Someone had built a large fire under the syrup kettle, that today was going to be used to scald the hogs so that the hair could be scraped off easier. NO they were already dead before being scalded. That was the first place that I stopped at. It was sure warm by that pot, but being a young kid I was disturbed by the sight. Even today I can still remember the sounds of the squealing hogs, not knowing what was fixing to take place. At that time and age I could not understand how people could do what they were doing to the animals, but just a few years later, home butchering was over with. I was with my father at a hog pen near the creek, where there was a group of hogs waiting to go to the sale. They were young gilts and shoats, so I know now that they were not going to slaughter at that time. I don't know why I did it, but I spit on one of them. Instead of whipping me, daddy told me that on judgement day God would make me lick that spit off the hog. I was never more embarrassed than at that moment. However, I knew then, that on that cold morning that the people doing the slaughter had respect for the animals. Even native Indians gave honor and glory to the wild animals that they used for food.

Weldon

The other day someone had me thinking of my first cousin, Weldon. When we lived at the old wood frame house underneath the big magnolia tree on the dirt road where the smoke and sulfur from hell came out from the cracks in the road (previous story), Wayne was carrying Weldon for a ride on the bike. The only place to ride was on the dirt road because the roots of the magnolia were huge and out of the ground and covered most of the yard. Safety was not an issue because most of the three people per day that used the road came by at a snails pace, and were always on the lookout for an excuse to stop and talk. The bike had no fenders, the seat had no padding, and no chain guard. Wayne was 8 and standing up pedalling and Weldon was 3 and sitting on the seat holding on. It was a lot of work for Wayne to pedal in the soft dirt and he was swinging back and forth. Weldon was holding on as best he could when his big toe got caught between the chain and chain sprocket.
Screamed so loud he broke blood vessels in his cheeks. No one knew what to do. Wayne was the oldest, but he could not let go of the bike, Weldon was stuck on the seat, if he moved his toe probably would fall off, Benny, Frankie, and I were a good ways off. Barbara was in the house and heard the screams and came running, with aunt Betty and mama a few feet behind. Everyone was excited and moving around all crazy like, but finally someone got a pair of pliers and loosened the nut of the wheel and moved it forward. When his toe came loose Weldon jumped down and ran like crazy because he knew that the kerosene treatment was next. Whatever happened to you , the treatment was to pour kerosene on the cut. I guess it worked because none of us ever had a wound to get infected.
Now Frankie Joe was Weldon's older brother and was a mischievous little fellow that would play a trick on you if you weren't paying attention. One Christmas at Daddy Frank's house over by Harvey Palmer's place it was almost dark and every one of the many grandchildren were shooting fireworks and bottle rockets. It was not enough excitement for Frankie that he accidentally set off his bag of fireworks in his back pocket and scared the hell out of everybody, he found an empty gas can. Well, this looked like his kind of fun. Let me drop a lighted match into this container and see what happens. How did that work out?
The can exploded like a mortor round and landed on the other side of the house, Frankie's hair and eye brows were gone, his face was a bright red and I think he had one of those brown spots in his pants also. Today he uses the diesel pump.

Lamentations

Going down the road, looking like a fat toad, toting a heavy load of moon pies that finally settled in my stomach, just above my thighs. Ah, for the days of my youth, when I had no tail, now I am afraid of the scale. Then I carried rocks in my pocket to keep the wind from making me sail, now my wind could fill a sail.
Exercise is hard, that is why I am a tub of lard. Tomorrow is another day, tonight I will have another chip by Lay. My willpower is shot, all I do is eat a lot. Take heart, if it will last, when I reach eighty, I will have a blast. My taste buds will be gone, and I will journey back to the bone. Back to the rocks in my pocket, maybe one in my locket. But my knees, my knees, my knees, will say please, please, please, you ruined us by carrying all that food, now we are really in a bad mood. So I will stay out of the wind, so my knees won't have to bend.
Oh well, here we go again, what the hell, one more pie for old times sake, maybe even a piece of chocolate cake. Try as I might, I want to eat everything in sight. My, my, my look at that red velvet cake, the breath from me it does take. Try, try, try to fight the temptation, it is so hard to only eat in moderation. The day is short, so I will have another snort, of rye, and say bye, bye, bye.

49 Chevy step side

Every now and then, we would pile into the back of grandpa's dark green 49 Chevrolet step side pick up and head off to grannie's sister, Dora Marshall, who lived in Gordon, Alabama. This particular trip was known to us a few days in advance and Wayne, Benny, and I had time to gather up a few paper sacks and fill them with dirt. The truck was a work truck and probably had never seen a wash job, had tools and hay wire and peanuts that had been pulled up and thrown in the back, to show the neighbors how good the crop was. We had to push everything to the side and pile in. I don't know why grannie did not go, but daddy and grandpa were in the front. To go from McKay's store to Ashford, we had to go by Balkum Church and come out at Green Front on the Columbia Hwy. Grandpa's top speed was 25 and even though he had a three speed on the column, he would wind it out in low and go straight to high, causing the truck to lurch and jump until he could build up enough speed to handle the shift. He did not want to wear out 2nd gear and save gas by not using it. When he went by a field he would slow down so he could get a good look and comment on how straight the rows were, how much fertilizer was needed, and why didn't they keep the weeds pulled. A trip that should have taken 45 minutes, would take 2 hours. We did not care, when no cars were behind us we would throw the paper bags of dirt in the air and they would land on the hard top and explode and look like a mushroom cloud. We could have gone through Dothan, but there was no traffic circle and going through the middle of town would have taken even longer. For those of you who don't know, Gordon is below Ashford.
By the time we got there we were ready to get out. Just about the time he stopped, we bailed out and hit the dirt running. My third cousin Crissie and one of her friends(prettiest little girl I had ever seen) were outside and looked startled to see us. We played chase and hide and seek for most of the afternoon. The porch on the house was higher than our heads, with wooden steps that reached to the sky. Some of us hid under the porch, but since it was so open we would have to race to base to keep from being tagged it. Crissie had a big slide that we took turns on. Some one suggested using wax paper to slide on and it will make you speed up on the way down. By the time we left to go home it was almost dark, so we made it back pretty quick.
Years later when I met Sheila and we had dated for a while I carried her to meet grandpa and grannie. If you never knew Guy Carlile, he was a talker and asked one question after another. Sheila was always called Girl, by him. Girl, do you know Homer Aman from Ashford? Yes sir. Girl, do you know Dora Marshall? Yes sir I am friends with her grand daughter. Girl was an instant hit. Sheila told of a day when she was a child in the first grade, that she was spending the weekend with Crissie. Crissie was big for her age and mean as a snake. She had all the boys in Harmon School afraid of her. When they saw a green chevrolet truck drive up and three boys jump out, Crissie told Sheila, Those boys are mean. If she said those boys were mean, Sheila knew she was in trouble, but said that she had a good time playing hide and seek , tag, and sliding down the slide on wax paper. We looked at each other and started laughing. It was weird to find out that we had played together all those years ago. On the 23rd of this month we will have been married for 38 years.