The Red Jacket

     I guess when you start getting older, you begin to remember the days of your youth.  That is the case in my situation, anyway.  I don't know if it is because you long for those "good ol days" or if your short term memory is beginning to fail and your brain compensates for that.  A lot of my childhood was spent with my grandparents on their farm.  They were salt of the earth, hard working, good people.  Grandpa was an outgoing personality, well liked in the community.  Grannie on the other hand was a quiet recluse.  As a youth, she was the opposite, but by early adulthood she had lost all of her hearing and was completely deaf.  There was nothing that could be done for her at that time and trying to carry on a conversation was extremely frustrating for her.  Her love for animals got her through that rough part of her life.  Seeing her interact with the dogs and animals on the farm was inspiring. 
     My parents had a hard time financially and about the time they could almost get ahead some disaster would rear it's ugly head.  Mostly, it would be some medical emergency that would require them to go to the infirmary in Mobile.  Other times it would be something as simple as a broken down car needing a battery or a radiator or some other essential item.  As a result I spent a lot of time at grandpa's.  Most of his land was in Dale County and they made a trip to Ozark every year to pay the property taxes. They went more often than that, but this is the trip I remember.
     It was cold at that time of the year and I had a jacket that was to small and ragged.  I guess that it looked pretty bad.  While at the courthouse, they decided to take me to Mixon's store which was on the square.  I had never been in a store that large.  The closest in size, I had been in, was McKay's Store on Hwy 134 between Midland City and Headland.  Mixon's was a sight to behold.  While Grannie looked at shoes, grandpa carried me over to the children's section.  The coats had been picked through earlier in the year and the only one that would fit me was a bright red jacket.  Fit is a loose word, since grandpa wanted it to last me a few years and I was still growing.  I tried to talk him out of buying that one, for the red stood out like a sore thumb.  He called Grannie over and she loved it.  I just gave up, you can't fight city hall, after all.
     On Monday, I had to ride the bus to school and everyone was staring and snickering at my red jacket.  When we were unloaded and I walked up the huge steps at the elementary school, I was walking upon a world stage.  Everyone in Headland saw me and I couldn't get inside fast enough.  Funny how your mind plays tricks on you.  No one noticed my red jacket, but me.  I am embarrassed now that I was embarrassed then.  If I could go back and do it over again, I would walk up those steps with my head held high, my back straight and my chest pushed out with pride, knowing that someone loved me enough to spend their hard earned money to keep me warm.
    

Choctawhatchee Crossing.

When I learned to swim at Preston's Mill on the Choctawhatchee river, I never even thought about who had gone on before.  Now as I look back, I can see that quite a few had gone before. Sure there will be many more to make that crossing.  24x36 inch oil on canvas.

Sheila's Wisdom

     A few days ago, Sheila and I were installing new signs at Republic Conduit in rural Georgia.  One had to be relocated.  I had dreaded moving it for over a week, for the dirt around it was rock hard.  Due to all the rain we had received, the dirt was relatively soft and dug easily.  Whoever had put the poles in the ground previously had over engineered the amount of concrete needed.  We dug a hole three feet deep and four feet around, but the concrete was not budging.  I grabbed a claw hammer and started beating it.  After a few minutes, Sheila jumped down into the hole, took the hammer and began banging away.  In a little while she looked up at me and said, "Stilettos, a hundred dollars, a good sledge hammer, priceless."  That was all I needed to relieve my frustration.  The next day we showed up with a sledge hammer and a couple of whacks were all we needed.  Sheila, grabbed the sledge from me and exacted her revenge, while I stayed out of her way.
     That weekend, she was talking with her sister in Washington.  Sheila's favorite topics are the end times and politics.  Her sister said that people in Washington were wondering what to do if Donald Trump won.  Sheila's response was also priceless.  "Ask them if they were in an embassy in Benghazi, being attacked and needing help, would they rather call Hillary Clinton or Donald Trump for help?"  That just about says it all, for me.

Turkey

16x20 inch oil on canvas that I just finished.

Chapter Two (What a Day)

     If you are sensitive or politically correct you might want to stop reading now.  Oh, good grief, just grow up and read.
     As I walked outside, I could only gasp at the clarity of the deep blue sky, all the clouds and rain had been pushed away by the now gentle breeze coming out of the west.  the bright green leaves of spring would soon turn to an ugly burnt green of the summer sun.  Even though I had left my windows down in the storm, I was not upset. I needed to walk to limber myself up after my trip to the torture master.  It was just a short distance to the shop anyway and besides, what could possibly change this perfect moment.
     I arrived at the shop with that thought echoing in the empty recesses of my mind.  I could hear shouting coming from the inside.  As I stepped through the door, I could see William and Bobby shouting at each other.  They were close enough that shouting was not necessary, but I guess they were both hard of hearing.  I could understand William doing this if he were drinking, But Bobby was more in control of himself, usually. Not today.  Looks as if both had lost their temper and were going to be pissed off until they found it.  Bobby shoved William backwards.  I guess William was standing on his temper and he wanted it badly.  William was one of the fastest people I knew, but his speed at retaliation was blinding.  He body checked Bobby hard and as he went down, Bobby's ribs caught on the 2x4 frame of the easel.  Blood shot out of the wound and soaked his shirt.  He never made a sound, not even a grunt.  William jumped on top and they tumbled over with Bobby on top, holding William down by laying with his back on top of William.  I never knew he was that tough. He held William down that way as if he were powerless, all the while, air was escaping out of his lung as it billowed up against the sharp point of the broken rib.  He began to moan as the pain made it's way into his awareness.  That did little to dampen his anger.  William was strong as a bull and worked his way out from under Bobby.  As they climbed up into a standing fight, the fists flew and blood and skin were scattered around the shop.  I had never seen anyone hurt so bad, continue to fight.  Must have involved a woman.
     I was not about to get involved in their mess and not wanting to ruin my mood, I left.  Walking outside, I headed toward the creek.  I tried to think happy thoughts as I walked along the wooded path.  As bad as the fight was, my mind kept going back to the doctor's office.  Man, no one should be treated like that.  Looking back now, it seems as if everyone enjoyed the visit, except for me.  I guess that I piss everyone off just by being alive.  I plan on being here a while longer, so they'll need to adjust their attitude, I guess.  Lost in my thoughts, I did not notice that I had gotten to close to the rain-soaked bank of the creek.  As I put my foot down, I slid on the mud and fell into the deep water.  There was no good place to get out so I just floated down stream for a little while until I saw a good spot to get out, but it was in a part of town that I was afraid of.  It was so cold, that I climbed out anyway.  I found myself in the middle of a black lives matter rally.
     I thought at first that I was at the filming of a new Tarzan movie, but then I realized that Cheeta was president and I was in real danger.  I figured the safest thing to do was to keep my mouth shut.  If I did I would be ok, for my milk white skin was covered in dark mud.  When I was born, my umbilical cord was wrapped around my neck and according to mom I was a black baby.  So I was not lying too much.  I maneuvered  away from the crowd and over to the parking lot to see if I could find a ride.  No such luck.  Everything was locked up tight and no one was in sight.
     As I walked, my temperature rose and I started sweating. In just a little while the mud was streaming off my body and now I am a mulatto!  Off in the distance I can see the Mexican quarters......

What a Day

     I did not have a good feeling about this place as I fished my Medicare and Medicare supplement cards out of my wallet.  As much as I hated to, I had to ask the surly receptionist which cards I had just given her.  My age has overtaken my eyes.  With glasses I can see here or there, but never here when I need to or there when I want to.  With her grunt, I assumed that I had given her the right ones.  She handed them back with a clip board just barely able to hold the paperwork I needed to fill out.  The parking lot was full, but when I went to find a seat, I found that I was the only one in the receptionist area.  Even then, there was not a good seat.  The carpet was covered with dirt, the seats were torn and tattered, cobwebs were everywhere.  And some of the seats were covered with rat droppings.  Since I am afraid of spiders and don't like rat dookey, I just decided to sit on the floor.  Good thing I am not afraid of earthworms and slugs.
     As I returned the paperwork, I asked Stoneface how long for me to be called back. 
     "Ten minutes!" she slurred.
      "Good", I thought, that will give me enough time to check on the car.  As I stepped out, I saw that the parking lot was underwater and mud had washed down from the hill overlooking the office.
     "That's just great!", I muttered under my breath.  I jumped across the puddles of mud and water and made my way to the car.  I let up the windows, knowing that I would have a mess to clean up later.  I had just enough time to get back to the office, but something kept worrying me about this appointment.  Why was I here?  Did I hurt myself, was I sick or was I just trying out my Medicare cards.  I think I have a tooth trying to abscess, but I ain't sure.  When I get back to the office, no one is there, not even the disgruntled old receptionist, so I go sit on the dirt floor and wait.
     I was almost asleep, when a few dozen black kids came into the room and gathered into a formation.  right on cue, just as they get into position, music comes out from nowhere and they begin to dance.  Slowly at first, gaining in momentum and intensity.  Not too bad for kids.  They break off into smaller groups and begin to wander off.  The office is soon deserted again and I eased over to the side of the room.  There was a collection of old Coca Cola barrels resting on a pallet.  The logo was embossed onto the side of the rusted metal barrels.  As I am admiring them, an old guy walks over and joins me in admiring them. 
     "Reckon how much they're worth?"
     "Five hundred dollars each, I guess" he answered.
     "Mr. Sims" called Stoneface, "Come on back!"
     As I stepped through the door, it looked as if I were entering into a petting zoo.  Now I knew where all the people from the cars were.  There was sawdust on the floor, goats, sheep, chickens and hogs were wandering around unattended.  You really needed to pay attention where you stepped.  The smell was kinda strong also.  The lady escorting me stepped over to the fruit bar, grabbed a pair of scissors and cut a section of melon.  I could not help but hope that she didn't cut some low hanging nuts off my tree.  Walking down the wide hall, I had to sidestep an old man on a torture machine that worked his shoulders, arms and legs.  He was tied to it so he couldn't get off until his time was up.  Some stupid grin was on his face, didn't know if he was happy or was going to need a cleanup at the end.
     "Here you are", said Stoneface, "Lay down on the floor and put your neck here."
     "How am I supposed to do that?"  The neck rest was a foot and a half above the floor.
     "Just try."
      As I lay down and was trying to get my head on the "rest", I felt a sharp pain on my tailbone.  "What the hell?"  I jumped in pain and they slid a two by four under my back and angled me up so that my neck fit perfectly.  "What kind of a flim-flam operation is this?"  You can keep your Medicare if I have to go through shit like this to use it.  I still don't know what is wrong, even after staying on that torture rack for over an hour.  I did leave there with a crick in my neck, a sore back and barely able to walk.  As I struggled through the reception area, Stoneface said, "See you next week."
     "No hell you won't!" I muttered to myself.
  .............to be continued. 

Bear

Ten inch by twenty one inch carved bear, standing on arrowhead on one forth of cedar log.