It has been raining here for the past few days and that is welcome in central South Carolina in the summer. My elder daughter and my two (so far) grandsons were here and we briefly talked about storms. She is writing a novel about the survivor of a tornado and I mentioned I enjoyed storms and rain.
I told her I did not necessarily like destructive storms just the loud, windy storms that drop a ton of rain. Then this morning I realized that is not true. I do like destructive storms. One of my favorite memories is sitting in our kitchen in a duplex in Lake Worth, FL when hurricane David went through. I was highly disappointed as I'd see what I considered far worse storms in my Kentucky hills growing up.
I guess when one is young one does not realize the human toll of those destructive storms and where we lived there was NO danger of a hurricane and very little of a tornado. (However the exception to that rule happened last spring as devastating tornados hit that area) What we had were thunder storms from light to fierce and from fleeting to lasting days at a time.
I can't remember any storms in the two places we lived before we moved to Spring Knob in around 1957 or 1958. That was a forestry tower way back from the paved road between Inez and Paintsville. There was a small log cabin (three rooms) that sat somewhat down below the tower. The tower was one hundred feet high and stood on the highest point of Spring Knob. In order to get to the outhouse one had to leave the cabin, walk up the path to the tower and beyond and down over the hill. Guess if you were in a hurry you ran instead of walked.
But that place was my real introduction to storms. For our part of Kentucky we were pretty high. Nothing like a real mountain but pretty high enough where the clouds were going past below the cabin as well as around and above it. When we had a thunder storm there we had a front row seat. I guess you could call it a holoscopic view of a thunderstorm. Of course I was not allowed outside while the storm was going on but I would have loved to have been.
Lightening fleshing up and flashing down and thunder so close it would make your soul rattle inside your body. We lived there about four or five years and once you've gone through that many hill top storms there isn't much in the lowlands that is going to impress you.
And, it was not just thunder and lightening but I also loved snow storms. Those little bits of "spitting" snow to those huge, wet flakes that floated down like they were reluctant to leave the air and settle to earth.
When we moved from Spring Knob we went to a place called West Van Lear, Ky so I could go to school without having to stay with my grandparents and walk to a one room school on top of a hill a good walk aways. I can't really remember any thunder storms there though I'm sure there were plenty but I do remember the snow storms. The second place we lived in West Van Lear sat on a little rise beside the road and there was a dusk to dawn light on an electric pole directly across from our front steps. I can remember lying in the little, unfinished section of the second story looking out the window and watching the snow flakes fall coming from the absolute darkness into the light and floating down to cover the grass and road.
Then in 1967 we moved back to a place known only as Nat's Creek. RR2, Louisa Ky, 41240. It was a twenty-one mile bus ride from where I caught the bus to the school. A lot of time spent on those school buses. But that is where I really fell in love with storms.
We lived there from my eighth grade year until a year after I graduated from high school, got married and moved away. In those six-plus years I saw some jim-dandy storms. When one of those, long steady rains would set in I'd move my old, iron bed from the middle of the room over by a window facing the creek and lie there propped up on pillows with a book and a good view of the rain and the rising water.
I remember well the way that tiny trickle of water in the branch between the house and outhouse would be full to overflowing and the crisp, clear water would go jumping over rocks on it's way to the main creek below. And, the main creek would turn from a small stream of five or six feet across into a 'river' of fifty to sixty feet across covering our 'foot bridge' and up into the lower rooms of the old barn that sat below the house. I was always so disappointed when the rain stopped and the creek started to subside.
Of course, that was not the only great time I've had via storms. Hunting was something I grew up doing and "hunting season" was something that was just some words which had no meaning at all to me. But that comes into conjunction with relationship (or lack thereof) I had with my parents. I sought any and every way to spend as much time away from them as humanly possible. So, the old reliable, was to take my shotgun and head for the hills.
Now, being out in the forest (woods) and seeing a storm coming up was nothing to cause consternation as I knew those hill tops well and a good, dry rock cliff was never far away. Duck in, start a nice fire and find a comfortable place to lie or sit. Unload the 12 gauge and put it at the end of the cliff so it if got hit, I didn't. Then just sit or lie there with my fire going and watch (and listen) to the rain falling softly through the leaves. That was a very peaceful time for me. I never cared much if I got any game or not. The beauty and peace of the forest was plenty good enough for me.
I will always love my storms. In fact when I bought my current house the front yard was overgrown with trees of various sorts and when a good storm would come along I'd sit outside on my small porch, smoke cigarettes (I've long since quit) and drink beer and just enjoy the wind, rain and fury of nature.
I really do feel for those victims of storms who lose their whole life's work or even their life to a storm but something inside me can't help thinking, "Damned, I wish I could have seen that!"
Monday, June 11, 2012
Thursday, May 31, 2012
The Dark
When I was a young child (and a child not so young) I was terribly afraid of the dark. My mother would tell me there was nothing in the dark that was not out there during the day but my imagination populated the night with all kinds of terrors and my brother did not help by telling me scary stories.
My brother would always tease me about it and tell me the same thing but I was not interested in logic. When it got dark I wanted to be inside a house with the lights on.
I'm not sure when that all changed but it was sometime in the late 60s. In 1967 we moved back to Nat's Creek so my mother could take care of her father and I had to walk from where we lived to where the school bus picked me up. This spot was right beside an old cemetary. Well, actually, just down the hill from it. And, with a 21 mile bus ride to school I had to be before dawn most of the school year I guess I just got used to it.
It is funny how things have changed over the years. Now, and for years, I have loved the darkness. Darkness brings me peace and tranquility. I never have the lights on in my cube at work. I rarely have the lights on in my "office" at home. I like sitting outside in the night, watching the stars, hearing the night sounds, feeling the coolness of the evening and just being at peace.
Night time in Kentucky had many more (or at least different) sounds than I have now that I live in a "neighborhood" and I miss them. Most of all I miss the whip-poor-will's calls. The call of an owl on the 'hunt' and even the croaking of frogs. I guess it is all in what one grew up with. It is what makes us most comfortable, what we knew as kids.
Even such things as a 'mudhole' in the road filled with the scum of frog eggs is nostalgic now. Any of that is gone for all time now for me. Circumstances of life have changed things so I doubt I will every experience those things again as they require some separation from other people and a quiet place in the wilds. Even if I had such a place I could not go as my wife could not survive living in the country. Lord, you ought to see her react to a very small bug! I can't imagine what it would be like should she confront a snake lying on the doorsill (that actually happened to me) or even the total darkness of a rural night. Here in Columbia, SC we have to have large dusk-to-dawn ligts in both the front and back of the house. It is alway high noon at my house.
I kind of miss having a real night. I guess it won't be too awfully long before I have as much night as one could ever wish for. Shame I won't be able to enjoy it.
My brother would always tease me about it and tell me the same thing but I was not interested in logic. When it got dark I wanted to be inside a house with the lights on.
I'm not sure when that all changed but it was sometime in the late 60s. In 1967 we moved back to Nat's Creek so my mother could take care of her father and I had to walk from where we lived to where the school bus picked me up. This spot was right beside an old cemetary. Well, actually, just down the hill from it. And, with a 21 mile bus ride to school I had to be before dawn most of the school year I guess I just got used to it.
It is funny how things have changed over the years. Now, and for years, I have loved the darkness. Darkness brings me peace and tranquility. I never have the lights on in my cube at work. I rarely have the lights on in my "office" at home. I like sitting outside in the night, watching the stars, hearing the night sounds, feeling the coolness of the evening and just being at peace.
Night time in Kentucky had many more (or at least different) sounds than I have now that I live in a "neighborhood" and I miss them. Most of all I miss the whip-poor-will's calls. The call of an owl on the 'hunt' and even the croaking of frogs. I guess it is all in what one grew up with. It is what makes us most comfortable, what we knew as kids.
Even such things as a 'mudhole' in the road filled with the scum of frog eggs is nostalgic now. Any of that is gone for all time now for me. Circumstances of life have changed things so I doubt I will every experience those things again as they require some separation from other people and a quiet place in the wilds. Even if I had such a place I could not go as my wife could not survive living in the country. Lord, you ought to see her react to a very small bug! I can't imagine what it would be like should she confront a snake lying on the doorsill (that actually happened to me) or even the total darkness of a rural night. Here in Columbia, SC we have to have large dusk-to-dawn ligts in both the front and back of the house. It is alway high noon at my house.
I kind of miss having a real night. I guess it won't be too awfully long before I have as much night as one could ever wish for. Shame I won't be able to enjoy it.
Some Idle Wonderings
I was watching a cooking show and the hostess was taking about having one cutting board that was used only for chicken. In fact during all the cooking shows it seems everyone is terribly paranoid about "cross contamination". Just makes me wonder. I grew up in the country where fried chicken was a Sunday tradition and chicken and dumplings was often had at other times.
As I can recall, I never saw my grandmother or my mother washing their hands after handling chicken and nobody I ever heard of had gotten sick eating chicken. It makes me wonder where salmonella really comes from. Is it endemic to chicken or is it just a result of the commercial processing of the chicken?
This brings a lot of other things to mind. When I was a very young kid I was always playing in the dirt and, in fact, I loved eating rocks. The little, thin, blue ones were my favorites. They had such a nice crunch. Some years ago I heard a story on the radio where some famous allergist had stated the reason so many of our kids have allergies is our modern thinking that killing all germs is a good thing. In fact parents are sanitizing their kid's environments to the point where the kid's immune system has not chance to properly develop so they don't learn how to deal with germs. I tend to agree. I'm a firm believer in pushing kids out of doors and letting them get dirty.
Then there was the Internet collection of things we experienced as a kid that is so frowned on today and entitled, "It's a Wonder Any of Us are Here". It was a list of all the things we were used to as children that people would be horrified of today.
For instance, I grew up in an era where there were no car seat belts or airbags and I always sat in my mother's lap in the front seat. There was no such thing as 'baby-proofing' a room. I grew up in an age when parent's told their kids things one time and expected them to obey and pay attention. If they told you not to go near the stove and you did anyhow and got burned they'd put something on the burn and give you a good, long, "I told you so" lecture. If they told you not to stick that penny in the electric outlet and you did anyhow they'd just laugh and say, "hurt didn't it? Bet you won't do that again".
And whining when we were told to do something? That was a fast track to getting your butt beat. One of my Dad's favorite lines when I was whiny and crying was, "If you want to cry I'll give you something to cry about". It eventually dawned on me it was much simpler (and safer) to just do what I was told without objection. It was much faster and much easier on my butt.
And what about today's attitude towards guns? I just shake my head when I see where some kid finds a gun in their parent's or grandparent's home and end up shooting themselves or someone else. That is just pure (and unforgivable) ignorance and negligence on the part of the parents. Kids don't know about guns and what guns do and that is kill things. I shot my first gun at age four. It was my Dad's .45 automatic. I was using our single shot .22 to burst balloons tied to a tree. I grew up around guns and knowing what guns did and what they were for. I grew up with the credo, "All guns are loaded. Never point a gun at anything you do not intend to shoot and never shoot anything you don't intend to kill."
I'm always amused when watching TV and movies when the "hero" is standing there with a loaded gun and the "villain" grabs a hostage and threatens to kill her/him if the hero does not put down his gun. And they DO! That is so stupid. Now the hero has no power what so ever. What I believe is you tell them, "OK, but when you do I'm going to blow your effin' head off". Besides, I was a pretty good shot. I always felt I could put a shot through their eyeball by the time they shut their mouth and got real.
It reminds me of a series of spy books I read by an author named Donald Hamilton. The Spy was Matt Helm. (Yes, Dean Martin played Matt Helm in two movies but they bore no relation to the books other than the title). His theory was when you were covering one man with your gun and another came up behind you and told you to "drop it" was to first shoot the person you already had the gun on and take him out of the equation then try for the guy behind you as the odds were he was going to kill you if he could either way.
That is rambling but the point is we do not really teach our kids cause and effect any more. We try to protect them from everything even when letting them try and fail. Making mistakes and getting hurt is part of growing up. I guess its natural though as we love our kids and want to keep them from making the mistakes we did. Only thing is, they're going to make those mistakes anyhow no matter what you say or do. After all we all knew everything there was to know by the time we were fifteen.
They say we either turn into our parents or we turn into the direct opposite. I think I tried to be the direct opposite of my father. He would use his belt on me several times a day. I don't know if I was that bad of a kid or he was just impatient. I suspect it was a combination of the two. I tried to not be that way with my kids. As I can recall I have never raised a hand with either of my girls and rarely, if ever, even raised my voice to them. I just tried to explain that every action has consequences. Some consequences are good and some are bad and if you do actions that have bad consequences you are going to suffer them and don't whine about it. If you choose to do bad things then you just have to deal with the bad consequences.
I don't have any idea whether I succeeded in any way but I have two daughters of whom I'm very proud. My elder is thirty now and has two wonderful sons and a great husband who seems to me to be a good husband and father. My younger will turn twenty-four in July and has the most beautiful little girl in the world and will bless us all with another grandson in September. She also has a husband who seems to be a very good father and husband. However much I had or did not have in shaping their lives I'm proud of both of them and very happy for them as long as they are happy.
In the end a parent must realize each child must find his or her own way and just wish for them to find happiness and be happy for them when they do whether or not that happiness is exactly what we may have dreamed of when we first saw them in the nursery. I think both my children are happy where they are now and I can wish no more for them.
Ok, another ramble for me. I guess I just write "stream of consciousness" things that start with one point and weaves it way around and about wherever it wants.
As I can recall, I never saw my grandmother or my mother washing their hands after handling chicken and nobody I ever heard of had gotten sick eating chicken. It makes me wonder where salmonella really comes from. Is it endemic to chicken or is it just a result of the commercial processing of the chicken?
This brings a lot of other things to mind. When I was a very young kid I was always playing in the dirt and, in fact, I loved eating rocks. The little, thin, blue ones were my favorites. They had such a nice crunch. Some years ago I heard a story on the radio where some famous allergist had stated the reason so many of our kids have allergies is our modern thinking that killing all germs is a good thing. In fact parents are sanitizing their kid's environments to the point where the kid's immune system has not chance to properly develop so they don't learn how to deal with germs. I tend to agree. I'm a firm believer in pushing kids out of doors and letting them get dirty.
Then there was the Internet collection of things we experienced as a kid that is so frowned on today and entitled, "It's a Wonder Any of Us are Here". It was a list of all the things we were used to as children that people would be horrified of today.
For instance, I grew up in an era where there were no car seat belts or airbags and I always sat in my mother's lap in the front seat. There was no such thing as 'baby-proofing' a room. I grew up in an age when parent's told their kids things one time and expected them to obey and pay attention. If they told you not to go near the stove and you did anyhow and got burned they'd put something on the burn and give you a good, long, "I told you so" lecture. If they told you not to stick that penny in the electric outlet and you did anyhow they'd just laugh and say, "hurt didn't it? Bet you won't do that again".
And whining when we were told to do something? That was a fast track to getting your butt beat. One of my Dad's favorite lines when I was whiny and crying was, "If you want to cry I'll give you something to cry about". It eventually dawned on me it was much simpler (and safer) to just do what I was told without objection. It was much faster and much easier on my butt.
And what about today's attitude towards guns? I just shake my head when I see where some kid finds a gun in their parent's or grandparent's home and end up shooting themselves or someone else. That is just pure (and unforgivable) ignorance and negligence on the part of the parents. Kids don't know about guns and what guns do and that is kill things. I shot my first gun at age four. It was my Dad's .45 automatic. I was using our single shot .22 to burst balloons tied to a tree. I grew up around guns and knowing what guns did and what they were for. I grew up with the credo, "All guns are loaded. Never point a gun at anything you do not intend to shoot and never shoot anything you don't intend to kill."
I'm always amused when watching TV and movies when the "hero" is standing there with a loaded gun and the "villain" grabs a hostage and threatens to kill her/him if the hero does not put down his gun. And they DO! That is so stupid. Now the hero has no power what so ever. What I believe is you tell them, "OK, but when you do I'm going to blow your effin' head off". Besides, I was a pretty good shot. I always felt I could put a shot through their eyeball by the time they shut their mouth and got real.
It reminds me of a series of spy books I read by an author named Donald Hamilton. The Spy was Matt Helm. (Yes, Dean Martin played Matt Helm in two movies but they bore no relation to the books other than the title). His theory was when you were covering one man with your gun and another came up behind you and told you to "drop it" was to first shoot the person you already had the gun on and take him out of the equation then try for the guy behind you as the odds were he was going to kill you if he could either way.
That is rambling but the point is we do not really teach our kids cause and effect any more. We try to protect them from everything even when letting them try and fail. Making mistakes and getting hurt is part of growing up. I guess its natural though as we love our kids and want to keep them from making the mistakes we did. Only thing is, they're going to make those mistakes anyhow no matter what you say or do. After all we all knew everything there was to know by the time we were fifteen.
They say we either turn into our parents or we turn into the direct opposite. I think I tried to be the direct opposite of my father. He would use his belt on me several times a day. I don't know if I was that bad of a kid or he was just impatient. I suspect it was a combination of the two. I tried to not be that way with my kids. As I can recall I have never raised a hand with either of my girls and rarely, if ever, even raised my voice to them. I just tried to explain that every action has consequences. Some consequences are good and some are bad and if you do actions that have bad consequences you are going to suffer them and don't whine about it. If you choose to do bad things then you just have to deal with the bad consequences.
I don't have any idea whether I succeeded in any way but I have two daughters of whom I'm very proud. My elder is thirty now and has two wonderful sons and a great husband who seems to me to be a good husband and father. My younger will turn twenty-four in July and has the most beautiful little girl in the world and will bless us all with another grandson in September. She also has a husband who seems to be a very good father and husband. However much I had or did not have in shaping their lives I'm proud of both of them and very happy for them as long as they are happy.
In the end a parent must realize each child must find his or her own way and just wish for them to find happiness and be happy for them when they do whether or not that happiness is exactly what we may have dreamed of when we first saw them in the nursery. I think both my children are happy where they are now and I can wish no more for them.
Ok, another ramble for me. I guess I just write "stream of consciousness" things that start with one point and weaves it way around and about wherever it wants.
Sunday, May 27, 2012
Just a Story From a Long Time Ago
Back in my "second" single days I would go out a lot of weekends with a couple of friends, Jolly and Andy. Jolly was a guy I was in the Army with and Andy (Andrea) was a woman he met after I had gotten out of the Army. They lived in Myrtle Beach would come to Columbia a couple of weekends a month and we'd go to five-points and hang out in a couple of bars. Our favorite was a bar called "Group Therapy". I thought the name was somehow appropriate.
There are more than one story to tell from these nights but I'm only going to relate one. Jolly, Andy and I were all in personnel at Ft Jackson. I wrote up paperwork for people getting out of the Army and coming from Germany and Panama. After a while (when I got my NCO's trained) I stopped doing ETS (regular exit from the Army. Expiration Term of Service. I only did "chapters". They were people getting kicked out for one reason or another and were much more interesting to write up because I got to read all the chapter packets.)
The two most common chapters were "Misconduct:Pattern of Misconduct and Homosexuality'. Some of the stories I read would make a really successful reality TV series. But just say I was familiar with certain modes of activity and attitudes.
I've put out a First Sergeant with over 20 years as a private with no benefits just because he could not wait a few more months to smoke some pot. I put out my first sergeant from the reception station because he could not keep it in his pants with female trainees. I put out a girl I went to school with in Ft Ben Harrison up in Indiana. She was mental I think.
However, this is just about one evening at Group Therapy. Jolly and I were both more solitary but Andy was a social person and when she found a group of young men were at Ft Jackson waiting to get out the next day she invited them to sit with us.
Sit, is not the right word, as in Group Therapy there was an area where there were no seats but had huge wire rollers as tables. We were all standing around one. There were four or five of the guys from the Fort and us there. We'd stood and drank beer (pitchers) and talked for a good while. There was one very short black guy who exhibited all the stereotypical aspects of a homosexual and Jolly, Andy and I all assumed he was a Homo Chapter.
Anyway, Jolly, Andy and the other guys all went to the bar for another pitcher leaving me and shorty at the table by ourselves. He moved around to stand right beside me and filled my glass and said, "So Frank, where are you from?"
I just told him the truth and told him I was from the coal fields of Eastern Kentucky. When I said that I did not seem him move. He just disappeared from my side and reappeared on the other side of the table. I always have to smile when I think of that. What a reputation Kentucky must have. LOL.
We later questioned the rest of the group and found out he was a regular ETS and not getting chaptered at all. We were all quite surprised as it was like he was shouting I'm gay with every move he made and every word he said. I still believe he was queer as a three-dollar bill but he apparently made it through enlistment without getting caught.
Not sure what brought that to mind this morning but that is what I was remembering.
There are more than one story to tell from these nights but I'm only going to relate one. Jolly, Andy and I were all in personnel at Ft Jackson. I wrote up paperwork for people getting out of the Army and coming from Germany and Panama. After a while (when I got my NCO's trained) I stopped doing ETS (regular exit from the Army. Expiration Term of Service. I only did "chapters". They were people getting kicked out for one reason or another and were much more interesting to write up because I got to read all the chapter packets.)
The two most common chapters were "Misconduct:Pattern of Misconduct and Homosexuality'. Some of the stories I read would make a really successful reality TV series. But just say I was familiar with certain modes of activity and attitudes.
I've put out a First Sergeant with over 20 years as a private with no benefits just because he could not wait a few more months to smoke some pot. I put out my first sergeant from the reception station because he could not keep it in his pants with female trainees. I put out a girl I went to school with in Ft Ben Harrison up in Indiana. She was mental I think.
However, this is just about one evening at Group Therapy. Jolly and I were both more solitary but Andy was a social person and when she found a group of young men were at Ft Jackson waiting to get out the next day she invited them to sit with us.
Sit, is not the right word, as in Group Therapy there was an area where there were no seats but had huge wire rollers as tables. We were all standing around one. There were four or five of the guys from the Fort and us there. We'd stood and drank beer (pitchers) and talked for a good while. There was one very short black guy who exhibited all the stereotypical aspects of a homosexual and Jolly, Andy and I all assumed he was a Homo Chapter.
Anyway, Jolly, Andy and the other guys all went to the bar for another pitcher leaving me and shorty at the table by ourselves. He moved around to stand right beside me and filled my glass and said, "So Frank, where are you from?"
I just told him the truth and told him I was from the coal fields of Eastern Kentucky. When I said that I did not seem him move. He just disappeared from my side and reappeared on the other side of the table. I always have to smile when I think of that. What a reputation Kentucky must have. LOL.
We later questioned the rest of the group and found out he was a regular ETS and not getting chaptered at all. We were all quite surprised as it was like he was shouting I'm gay with every move he made and every word he said. I still believe he was queer as a three-dollar bill but he apparently made it through enlistment without getting caught.
Not sure what brought that to mind this morning but that is what I was remembering.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Random Memories of My Father (part 1)
My elder daughter and her family are in Pensacola's, FL right now. Got me thinking of my Dad's Navy career. He was an Aviation Ordinance Chief over three Naval Air Stations around Pensacola during WWII. He, my mother and my brother lived there in the early 40's. But his story does not start there.
His parents did not want to raise him so they dumped him off on his Uncle Mac (McClellan I think) to raise. It seems he had a difficult childhood and one I don't know that I could have survived. Back in those days the adults always ate first (they worked all day and needed the calories) then the women and kids. But, the "natural" kids ate before the "left off" kid. My dad said he was an adult before he even knew a chicken had any other parts than a neck or back.
Reminds me of the story he told of being somewhere (San Diego maybe) and getting a restaurant to put back a whole chicken for him. He came in and had it fried and sat down to a chicken that had more parts than a neck or back and was, apparently, really getting into it when one of those snotty, high-toned, women sitting at a nearby table made some remark to him about "really enjoying that chicken" and he replied that he sure was. I'm sure she could not have related to his childhood or just how much that chicken meant to him at the time.
In fact, he said he was so hungry he used to roam up and down the railroad track hoping some hobo had got run over by a train had was left lying. He said he always wondered how a human would taste. That had to be a hard life coming up.
I can remember him talking about shooting the bell of my grandparent's cow with a .22 rifle. I guess I know where I get my mischievous streak. Never really think of the possible consequences, just do it. I've done a lot of things in my life I would never have done had I really thought of the possible consequences.
I don't know how old he was when he went to West Virginia and stayed with his half-sister, Mamie, and worked in the coal mines. Must have been around 17 or 18. He liked to tell the story of another miner who was 'rooming' there and just disappeared one day. Said one night he was in bed and a woman all in white (just the head and upper body... the rest was just flowing white) came floating our of the air towards him. he said he just put the covers over his head and went to sleep. (Likely story.) Said he ran into the missing boarder later and asked him why he had left and he would not talk about it. So, my dad told him what he had seen and the man admitted he had seen the same thing. My dad was a little more crazy than the rest of us (and that is saying something) or he was a little more psychic.
He was involved in the "War of Blair Mountain" in 1921. He must have just turned 19. It was a rebellion of the coal miners who wanted to join the Unions against the mine owners and law enforcement. It would be nice to say he was one of the miners but he wasn't. He was one of the Sheriff's deputies. That was a bad, sad time in that area and worth doing some research on. Google it. Lot's of information. It was the largest armed insurrection in US history and required the regular Army to be sent in to preserve (some) the peace.
My dad used to run a Ferry there and he says he once took Billy Sunday across the river. I don't remember what river it was but I think it was around Charleston, WV. Billy Sunday was a famous evangelist of the time.
My Dad left WV in 1922 when he joined the Navy. He was too short (5'4") for the Navy and they had to send to Knoxville, TN for special permission. Over the years I had always thought he had just decided to join the Navy but my brother told me not too many years ago he once heard my Dad talking to someone and saying he joined the Navy because he "had to leave" West Virginia. My brother said he never heard why. Knowing my Dad it could have been anything from sleeping with the wrong man's wife to murder.
That is it for now. Later I'll talk about his Navy years.
His parents did not want to raise him so they dumped him off on his Uncle Mac (McClellan I think) to raise. It seems he had a difficult childhood and one I don't know that I could have survived. Back in those days the adults always ate first (they worked all day and needed the calories) then the women and kids. But, the "natural" kids ate before the "left off" kid. My dad said he was an adult before he even knew a chicken had any other parts than a neck or back.
Reminds me of the story he told of being somewhere (San Diego maybe) and getting a restaurant to put back a whole chicken for him. He came in and had it fried and sat down to a chicken that had more parts than a neck or back and was, apparently, really getting into it when one of those snotty, high-toned, women sitting at a nearby table made some remark to him about "really enjoying that chicken" and he replied that he sure was. I'm sure she could not have related to his childhood or just how much that chicken meant to him at the time.
In fact, he said he was so hungry he used to roam up and down the railroad track hoping some hobo had got run over by a train had was left lying. He said he always wondered how a human would taste. That had to be a hard life coming up.
I can remember him talking about shooting the bell of my grandparent's cow with a .22 rifle. I guess I know where I get my mischievous streak. Never really think of the possible consequences, just do it. I've done a lot of things in my life I would never have done had I really thought of the possible consequences.
I don't know how old he was when he went to West Virginia and stayed with his half-sister, Mamie, and worked in the coal mines. Must have been around 17 or 18. He liked to tell the story of another miner who was 'rooming' there and just disappeared one day. Said one night he was in bed and a woman all in white (just the head and upper body... the rest was just flowing white) came floating our of the air towards him. he said he just put the covers over his head and went to sleep. (Likely story.) Said he ran into the missing boarder later and asked him why he had left and he would not talk about it. So, my dad told him what he had seen and the man admitted he had seen the same thing. My dad was a little more crazy than the rest of us (and that is saying something) or he was a little more psychic.
He was involved in the "War of Blair Mountain" in 1921. He must have just turned 19. It was a rebellion of the coal miners who wanted to join the Unions against the mine owners and law enforcement. It would be nice to say he was one of the miners but he wasn't. He was one of the Sheriff's deputies. That was a bad, sad time in that area and worth doing some research on. Google it. Lot's of information. It was the largest armed insurrection in US history and required the regular Army to be sent in to preserve (some) the peace.
My dad used to run a Ferry there and he says he once took Billy Sunday across the river. I don't remember what river it was but I think it was around Charleston, WV. Billy Sunday was a famous evangelist of the time.
My Dad left WV in 1922 when he joined the Navy. He was too short (5'4") for the Navy and they had to send to Knoxville, TN for special permission. Over the years I had always thought he had just decided to join the Navy but my brother told me not too many years ago he once heard my Dad talking to someone and saying he joined the Navy because he "had to leave" West Virginia. My brother said he never heard why. Knowing my Dad it could have been anything from sleeping with the wrong man's wife to murder.
That is it for now. Later I'll talk about his Navy years.
Monday, May 21, 2012
Dreams
Everyone dreams and, I'm sure, everyone has dreams on a repeating theme. I'm also sure they could tell a lot about a person if one knew how to translate one's sub-conscious into conscious thought.
I dream every night and very few of them are what I would term as 'pleasant'. They all tend to fall into a few recurring themes. One is high places with sheer drops. I never intend to go to these high places but between one second and another I move from a secure area to being on the verge of a precipice.
Another is snakes. I think this is a pretty common theme. All of a sudden everywhere I turn will be snakes. The snakes do nothing to harm me but I am very frightened of them all the same.
Another is smoking cigarettes. I've not smoked in over twelve years now but I have regular dreams of sneaking out for a cigarette or being about out of cigarettes and desperately searching for some.
Another one, and probably the most logical of them all, is searching for a bathroom and every one I go to is clogged up or there are women inside the men's bathroom. Many things which make me unable to "go". I suppose that is why when I wake up after one of these dreams I need to "go".
But, it gets me to thinking of our dreams in a general way and what they may mean. I've heard dreams are caused by our sub-conscious mind solving the dilemmas of our day the conscious mind has not dealt with. I'm not sure what dilemmas I have that are not resolved so often as these dreams happen every night.
Last night, for instance, I was with my youngest and some person I did not know and we were looking for something. All of a sudden we were at a high, sheer drop off. The daughter and stranger were taking turns throwing rocks off the wall and I was getting way the heck back away from it.
Then I was headed for a little store and realizing I had two half empty packs of cigarettes I was putting them all together in one pack. When we got to the store I went behind it and lit one up. My daughter was watching me out a large window and came out the back door and was very angry with me for smoking and I was very angry with her for being angry with me.
Then I had left and was walking along a road which suddenly changed to the edge of a high cliff. I saw a safe way past and was walking along when I was joined by a male and female whom I did not know. As we continued along we came to an outdoor office. There was a desk with a rolo-dex etc but no walls or room and all the things in it were ruined by the rain.
Another recurring theme in my dreams is deep water. Not over my head deep but like chest deep. Mostly this occurs up on Nat's Creek from my grandparents and where I was born. Mostly up the July Ratliff fork just below their house. I'm walking or driving down the creek and the water is about chest deep but does not stop me.
These dreams are all odd but I rarely ever have the kind of nightmare dreams I had at one time. You know, those dreams that make you get out of bed and turn on every light in the place and sit and watch late night TV or something until you're sure you won't fall asleep and go back to dreaming those. I had those almost every night for some years. Some of them I can still remember as vividly as if they had just happened though they have been over fifteen years gone now.
I wonder if dreams really do have some meaning or if they are just random images our minds throw out. If they do have meaning I'd dearly love to know what mine mean. But, mostly, I'd dearly love for them to just go away.
I dream every night and very few of them are what I would term as 'pleasant'. They all tend to fall into a few recurring themes. One is high places with sheer drops. I never intend to go to these high places but between one second and another I move from a secure area to being on the verge of a precipice.
Another is snakes. I think this is a pretty common theme. All of a sudden everywhere I turn will be snakes. The snakes do nothing to harm me but I am very frightened of them all the same.
Another is smoking cigarettes. I've not smoked in over twelve years now but I have regular dreams of sneaking out for a cigarette or being about out of cigarettes and desperately searching for some.
Another one, and probably the most logical of them all, is searching for a bathroom and every one I go to is clogged up or there are women inside the men's bathroom. Many things which make me unable to "go". I suppose that is why when I wake up after one of these dreams I need to "go".
But, it gets me to thinking of our dreams in a general way and what they may mean. I've heard dreams are caused by our sub-conscious mind solving the dilemmas of our day the conscious mind has not dealt with. I'm not sure what dilemmas I have that are not resolved so often as these dreams happen every night.
Last night, for instance, I was with my youngest and some person I did not know and we were looking for something. All of a sudden we were at a high, sheer drop off. The daughter and stranger were taking turns throwing rocks off the wall and I was getting way the heck back away from it.
Then I was headed for a little store and realizing I had two half empty packs of cigarettes I was putting them all together in one pack. When we got to the store I went behind it and lit one up. My daughter was watching me out a large window and came out the back door and was very angry with me for smoking and I was very angry with her for being angry with me.
Then I had left and was walking along a road which suddenly changed to the edge of a high cliff. I saw a safe way past and was walking along when I was joined by a male and female whom I did not know. As we continued along we came to an outdoor office. There was a desk with a rolo-dex etc but no walls or room and all the things in it were ruined by the rain.
Another recurring theme in my dreams is deep water. Not over my head deep but like chest deep. Mostly this occurs up on Nat's Creek from my grandparents and where I was born. Mostly up the July Ratliff fork just below their house. I'm walking or driving down the creek and the water is about chest deep but does not stop me.
These dreams are all odd but I rarely ever have the kind of nightmare dreams I had at one time. You know, those dreams that make you get out of bed and turn on every light in the place and sit and watch late night TV or something until you're sure you won't fall asleep and go back to dreaming those. I had those almost every night for some years. Some of them I can still remember as vividly as if they had just happened though they have been over fifteen years gone now.
I wonder if dreams really do have some meaning or if they are just random images our minds throw out. If they do have meaning I'd dearly love to know what mine mean. But, mostly, I'd dearly love for them to just go away.
Thursday, May 17, 2012
Mary Jane Part 3
Just a few unconnected memories of my sister and those who knew her:
Jerry's restaurant strawberry pie. When she was still mobile but had to stay out of the sun my ex and I would wait until after dark and take her to the Jerry's in Prestonburg and get her a slice of their strawberry pie. I still cannot look at strawberry pie and not remember that and think how much she would have loved it.
Hours of playing Rook around the kitchen table. I think I've mentioned that before. We played with a 120 point deck and I recall one time she and Homer beat Carol and I 120 to 0 when I had the bid. That was the worst 'widow' I ever say. Nothing but 5's and 10s. (If you've never played Rook you will probably not understand)
The large window in her bedroom. After she got to where she could not get out of bed Homer had a large window cut in the side of the trailer so she could see the outside world and not be stuck just looking at the walls. That window would not lock so when I needed in the trailer in later years and no one was home I'd just climb in through that window.
I remember how she got along so well with everyone. When she passed all the nurses on the floor just stood around and cried while they took her away. I expect death is a common thing to nurses but she was such a special person they all loved her and there was little distancing themselves from the emotions they had at her passing.
I remember her tacos and Hungarian Goulash. I was wanting to make some myself and tried looking up the recipes on the Internet and found every 'grandma' had her own recipe and Hungarian Goulash was more an idea than a recipe. Hers had elbow macaroni, ground beef, tomatoes, garlic and some other things I can't think of. It had a special taste I had never run into before that was great. Looking back on it I think that must have been the garlic. We could all just sit and eat bowl after bowl of that.
Her tacos did not have a hamburger mix like you get at today's restaurants. It was just corn tortillas heated up in grease briefly so they were tender, ground beef, chopped lettuce, tomatoes, onions, grated cheese and Texas Pete (hot sauce for the uneducated). Those were real meals. We would go through rolls and rolls of paper towels because the grease would just run down your forearms to your elbows and we were continually mopping it off our arms as we ate. Those were my favorites. I used to make them all the time when I lived in my apartment and when a co-worker and I spent six months in Norway I'd make tacos about once a week and he loved them as much as I did. Now it seems everything is flour tortillas or the shaped and baked corn tortillas. Lately all the corn tortillas like we had come in packages of about a thousand. That sucks. Corn tortillas are so much better than flour.
I recall when I got in trouble when I was 18 she was almost the only one who seemed to understand and did not condemn me. She and my brother. I think my mother and dad did not even know as it was kept quiet. She was one of the few people I've ever knows whom I'd describe as a truly GOOD person. It is a real damned shame such a wonderful person ended up with such a horrible life in her later years. If I still had a single religious bone in my body such injustice would make me wonder why such a thing was allowed to happen.
Jerry's restaurant strawberry pie. When she was still mobile but had to stay out of the sun my ex and I would wait until after dark and take her to the Jerry's in Prestonburg and get her a slice of their strawberry pie. I still cannot look at strawberry pie and not remember that and think how much she would have loved it.
Hours of playing Rook around the kitchen table. I think I've mentioned that before. We played with a 120 point deck and I recall one time she and Homer beat Carol and I 120 to 0 when I had the bid. That was the worst 'widow' I ever say. Nothing but 5's and 10s. (If you've never played Rook you will probably not understand)
The large window in her bedroom. After she got to where she could not get out of bed Homer had a large window cut in the side of the trailer so she could see the outside world and not be stuck just looking at the walls. That window would not lock so when I needed in the trailer in later years and no one was home I'd just climb in through that window.
I remember how she got along so well with everyone. When she passed all the nurses on the floor just stood around and cried while they took her away. I expect death is a common thing to nurses but she was such a special person they all loved her and there was little distancing themselves from the emotions they had at her passing.
I remember her tacos and Hungarian Goulash. I was wanting to make some myself and tried looking up the recipes on the Internet and found every 'grandma' had her own recipe and Hungarian Goulash was more an idea than a recipe. Hers had elbow macaroni, ground beef, tomatoes, garlic and some other things I can't think of. It had a special taste I had never run into before that was great. Looking back on it I think that must have been the garlic. We could all just sit and eat bowl after bowl of that.
Her tacos did not have a hamburger mix like you get at today's restaurants. It was just corn tortillas heated up in grease briefly so they were tender, ground beef, chopped lettuce, tomatoes, onions, grated cheese and Texas Pete (hot sauce for the uneducated). Those were real meals. We would go through rolls and rolls of paper towels because the grease would just run down your forearms to your elbows and we were continually mopping it off our arms as we ate. Those were my favorites. I used to make them all the time when I lived in my apartment and when a co-worker and I spent six months in Norway I'd make tacos about once a week and he loved them as much as I did. Now it seems everything is flour tortillas or the shaped and baked corn tortillas. Lately all the corn tortillas like we had come in packages of about a thousand. That sucks. Corn tortillas are so much better than flour.
I recall when I got in trouble when I was 18 she was almost the only one who seemed to understand and did not condemn me. She and my brother. I think my mother and dad did not even know as it was kept quiet. She was one of the few people I've ever knows whom I'd describe as a truly GOOD person. It is a real damned shame such a wonderful person ended up with such a horrible life in her later years. If I still had a single religious bone in my body such injustice would make me wonder why such a thing was allowed to happen.
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