Flash Back To January 31, 1966

I'm reminded by the discovery of the photo below of my last official duties as a Keesler AFB Air Policeman.  I was sitting at the airbase dreading and preparing to go on leave before my deployment to Vietnam, when emergency orders came down for several of us to board a C-47 within the hour.

Within that hour I stood shaking, not having a clue what was coming or where I was going, on the Keesler flight line just outside an olive drab "Gooney Bird".  The same TSgt. that had been drilling us in riot control just weeks before shouted orders.  In full riot gear, we boarded the plane, and it was only after takeoff that we learned we were headed for Greenville, MS; to an abandon airbase where a large group of "civil rights" protestors had taken up residence in one of the main buildings.

Riot gear in those days consisted of our "piss pot (helmet)", a gas mask strapped around our waist, and a "billy club".  No weapons were issued.

I found this in a excerpt in a blog today that gave me more of the story than I had ever known:  

"...a group of fifty Civil Rights activists with the Mississippi Freedom Labor Union occupied one of the empty buildings at the airbase to protest poverty, homelessness and political repression in the Mississippi Delta. The protest took place on January 31, 1966. As the airfield was technically still under USAF ownership, the local police would not respond. Instead, the USAF Air Police mobilized to Greenville. Within thirty hours, USAF law enforcement personnel forcibly evicted the protestors."

I remember peering into the building and seeing blacks and whites sitting around on the floor chanting something about "freedom".  It scared me a little, I admit, but it also shamed me that America had come to that.  What saddened me even more was seeing black protestors vent their anger on black Air Police in the detachment.

This photo was from a year earlier, but shows Air Police in action.

The procedure for removal was to grab one protestor at a time, pass that person to policemen inside a revolving circle of troops.  No one Air Policemen was to ever be stationed at the door longer than it took for them to side-step to their right and be replaced by the next in line.  The circle would briefly open and a protestor would be inserted, or pulled, into the inner circle.  That continued until the building was empty and all the protestors were outside and inside the moving circle.

Several of the black protestors shouted at the black policemen and spit at and on them.  That really burned me, since I knew the black troops and they were my friends.  However, we were trained not to show emotion.

The protestors were loaded on buses and taken off the site...to where I don't know.

My group reassembled and were back on the plane to Keesler within hours of arriving.

This was just one small episode of southern civil rights demonstrations, but there were many and they proved effective.

A Little More Than I Planned

I'm beat, or I feel like I've been beaten!

I have recently started to eat better and am exercising a little to try and get over the up and down swings in my blood sugar.  It seems to be working.  I've resorted to a modified Atkins type regiment; basically more protein than carbohydrates.  Once you start getting the shakes from a low blood sugar of 40, or the weird feeling of a high of 180+, then you start paying attention!

The exercise is not a lot, just a fast mile on the treadmill, but it's more than I was getting!  Summer heat and humidity, plus old knees and legs, have curtailed my usual mountain hikes to anytime the thermometer is below 75 and above 25.  That's quite a range, actually, but in East Tennessee those are the few days it isn't raining, or at least threatening.

However, that isn't the reason I feel rough as I write this.  The reason began last night as I tossed and turned from 1AM to 7:30; thinking about all the things I wanted to accomplish today.

The first one was to load up my lawnmower and get it to the local John Deere dealer for some major work on the deck.  A support strut under the deck, right at the exit shoot, that had broken again and needed attention.  Naturally, as long as that had to be done, the mechanic might as well sharpen the blade, change the oil, squirt a little grease here and there, check the filters, and see if the front tires need tubes or replacements!  I can't get those front tires to hold air anymore.

In preparation of my busy day, I got up and ate a hardy steak and egg breakfast, had my second cup of coffee, and proceeded to getting the loading ramps out of the basement, and move the truck to the front hillside.

Loading is generally routine, as the above photo shows from past experience, but today there was a small hitch; the mower would not start!

Now, I don't fancy myself a mechanic.  I stopped working on cars about 1973, when you were no longer able to put at least one foot on the ground beside the engine.  Air conditioning and power steering, to name a couple of modern automobile enhancements took up all the roominess under the hood.  So, I proceeded to do what little I know about why an engine fails to fire.

I fumbled with the spark plug; finally removing it after loosening a couple of bolts from a protective housing, and reconnected it to the wire.  Luckily my battery was new, so it had the power to wait out the delay in starting until I resolved the problem.

I turned the engine over and saw that there was a good spark at the end of the plug.  Scrapping my knuckles again putting it back in and tightening it.

All the while it's 85 with high humidity, and my yellow "White Mule" t-shirt from the Downtown Grill and Brewery was getting soaked down to my waist.  

I haven't done well in heat and humidity since 1959, when I nearly died from sweating nearly all the sodium from my body.  You can read that story by CLICKING HERE.  My folks were surprised I didn't die in Vietnam, just from the loss of salt!  Me too!

I disconnected the gas line from the fuel filter and noticed that there was no flow of gas.  Therefore, it was safe to assume that was the reason the mower failed to fire.

I went back to the basement, that being my fourth trip, filled it up and hauled up my 10 gallon air compressor.  I had two flat tires anyway, and proceeded to blow air up the gas line.  I heard bubbling after a short pause, so I figured the blockage was gone, and sure enough, when I shut off the air flow gas gushed out on my leg!

Putting everything back together, I was confident that I had the issue repaired.  I did.  It cranked as soon as gas refilled the filter bubble; none to soon because the battery was finally beginning to weaken.  I could hear Judy cheer from the backdoor!

With tires inflated, I rolled the L110 onto the truck and we were off to Rockwood to leave the other issues to Bowman John Deere.

I was a dirty, greasy, sweating mess, but I was so relieved to have the mower running and delivered.

I was now looking forward to getting back home, showering, eating a Wendy's Grain Salad with chicken and pineapples, while we watched another episode of "Boardwalk Empire" (season 4).  My troubles would be behind me and I would once again be clean, full, and ready for my daily 6:30pm to 7 news time nap!

So, I go into my library to sit down and relax a couple of minutes before stepping into the shower, when I decided to take advantage of the delay and clip off a nail I had messed up at some point in my previous ordeal. 

I laid the clippers on the sink and reached for the file.  In the process I knocked the clippers down into the sink.  Grabbing at it, like a kitten playing with a ball of yarn, my hand knocked off the little filter screen I keep on the drain.  My heart sank and my temper rose as I realized the clippers slipped neatly, barely touch either side, and disappeared down into the trap!

Try as I might, I could not loosen the second trap joint nut!  Even my pipe wrench, which, I was surprised to find, was almost too heavy for me to hold steadily now, would not budge it.  I'm telling you, getting old is no fun!

So, I resorted to going to the dirty clothes hamper and getting out my cleanest dirty t-shirt for a halfway respectable trip to Lowe's!  I started humming "Sunday Morning Coming Down".

I drove the 8.3 miles (both ways) and located a "claw tool" to see if that would retrieve my clippers.

Back home, I found a way to kneel on a sofa pillow and hunker down under the sink again.  I've found my right leg will not bend all the way under me like it did just 1 year ago!  Age again!

I put the claw tool down into the trap and on the third try it came out with my clippers!  Yea!  Now I could shower, eat, and rest.

So, that was my day.  I had hoped last night that the mile on the treadmill would be all the exercise I would need for the day.  Nonetheless, greater powers decided I needed humpteen trips up and down the hill and stairs to basement. 

So, I didn't get the other items on my "do list" completed today, but...who's counting!

I am a little beat tonight, but it's no secret that I need a little extra each and every day, but God, can't I do that on cooler days?! 

 

 

A ROAD TRIP BACK INTO THE PAST!

Saturday morning found me meeting up with Gary Baker in front of Fairmont Headstart school building, which is located on Fairmont Ave., on the west side of Pine Hills in Harriman, Tennessee.  The school sets on property that also takes in about 10 to 15 acres of land that was once a nursery farm for Bob's Flower Place, a local nursery where I once worked along side Woody Adkisson, the adopted son of Bob Adkisson, the owner.  The neighborhood kids all called him "Uncle Bob" and you'd have to look hard to find a better person.

Uncle Bob raised his children, Betty Anne and Woody, in the church, and every time the doors were open, he expected them to be there!  I can't say he was a strict man, but he did expect his kids to perform chores around the home, and Woody worked for him just like any other hired hand.  He got the same wage and performed the same jobs, and I think it was all an attempt by his father to teach him the business.  However, Woody never had the desire to be in the "flower" business.

Woody learned to work hard in the heat of the East Tennessee summer sun and humidity, and I often had trouble keeping up.  However, that work ethic rubbed off on me back in the summers of '62 and '63, and dripped off my brow down in a little hidden valley behind Pine Hills Subdivision; down next to Bumgardner Creek.  If you follow that creek, and the railroad bed on the south side of the creek, west, you will eventually come out by McDonald's near Exit 347 of I-40.

Woody and I toiled with pick and shovel, wrestled tillers, sowed burlap bags that formed giant balls around bundled roots and earth, and pushed mowers back and forth for 75 cents an hour.  We worked hard, trying to get to the next break under the shade of a line of slender saplings that grew straight and tall in the best bottom soil around.  That soil was irrigated with Bumgardner Creek water that pooled up behind two concrete and 2X6 board dams that Bob had constructed years earlier.  The water level was determined by the number of boards inserted into the concrete slots on each side of the dam.

The water was cool in those pools and we often sat on the dam walls, dangling our bare feet in the water, while sharing a Winston, and a cup of cool thermos water off the back of the ol' "Green Bomb", Bob's '48 Chevy pickup.  We shared many a conversation, about which is lost in time, but needless to say they involved the coming weekend, girls, and an occasional heated discussion about the differences between calling a church South Harriman Baptist verses the Church of Christ!  Never of us ever won these exchanges, but we forged a bond over those years.  

Woody and I ended up joining the Air Force in August of '64, along with Tom Hall, and after that, well, I only saw him a half dozen times.  Where he is today...even his family don't seem to know for sure?!

Anyway, I said all this just to point out that the land below Fairmont School holds a special place in my heart.  So, Saturday, Gary, who now owns the property, and I walked down the hill and into the past.

The dams are almost too overgrown to see anymore, and their purpose is lost on anyone who does not remember "Uncle Bob" or the nursery he owned.  Gary remembered it though, having roamed Pine Hills as a young boy, along with our mutual friend Bennie Lowery.

Besides the dam walls, little is left that would indicate the area was ever used as a nursery farm.  However, if you look real close, you can still see trees that are in perfect alignment, and a huge juniper bush or two that would seem strangely located to an uneducated eye.

We crossed the creek and walked the fence line that separates the land from the railroad right-of-way and into the heart of the property.  We each took turns pointing out trees and shrubs that were obviously remnants of the past.  We stood by the creek and marveled at the tranquility, which was only broken by the distant traffic on I-40.  Over those muffled sounds, you could almost hear the ol' Green Bomb sloshing across the creek!

We left Pine Hills and drove to Clifty Creek.  Gary had called Dr. Ahler and asked him to join us.

Together we walked back into another past, a past where young boys (me, Woody, and Barry, among others) used to come, again in the ol' Green Bomb, and do boyish things.  We shot cans lined up in rows, and regrettably bottles, that we had tossed in upstream, ambushing them as they passed.  I like to think that after fifty years of so, that the water had ground off all the sharp edges, or tuned them back into sand, but I'm sure that's wishful thinking.

Each of us told personal stories of the "Pepper Box" area, as we sat on a big sandstone rock and looked up Clifty Creek, remembering the past.  

Dr. Ahler spoke of leading Boy Scouts across the creek, and the time he slipped and fell in.  

Me, well, all those cans and bottles were rolled into one event, just like the camping trips.  They all turn into one great adventure, in the dark, around a camp fire, listening to the "peppering" sound the water made after falling a couple of hundred feet and splattering on the rocks below.

Today you can enjoy a variety of wildflowers, waterfalls, and old growth forests along the valley.  One day, I plan to take a pilgrimage to the back most regions of this area.  They say there is a second canyon area, with steep sandstone walls, that makes the first canyon envious!  I want to find that wall!

The area, at least on the Morgan County side of the creek, is now part of the Nature Conservancy, and that makes me very happy.  The area, its flora and wildlife, is now protected and should be available to future generations for many years to come.  There should be no more "bad boys", who had no sense of legacy back then, shooting bottles in the creek.  And yes, as the years go by, the chances of those bottle being turned back into sand increases!

GOOD FRIENDS STAND THE TEST OF TIME

Friendships made in the work place rarely stand the test of time.  People have their own families and other friends they see more often, and once someone leaves/retires, they get invited back for a party or two, but after a couple years you stop wanting to go as much, or you stop being remembered.  However, the real reason is turnover.  Faces where you used to work continue to change until there are only one or two you even know, and the once fun experience becomes uncomfortable.  So, you (me) basically stop going on your own!

Robert is second from left...me...on the right end!

There are the exceptions in these friendships.  Case in point, the relationship I've had with Patti Pitts and Robert (Bobby) Ridenour.  

We worked together way back in the Lockheed Martin days at Oak Ridge, and I'm guessing, for somewhere around 12 to 13 years!  Our friendship has endured, although often a span of a few years pass before we get together again.  However, when we do, we pick right back up where we left off and immediately begin enjoying each others company.

Robert on left side, me on the right.

This past Thursday, Patti, Robert, and I met at Puleo's Grille in Knoxville, and spent a long lunch laughing and reminiscing.  It would have been longer, but Robert still works.  It was as though we were back sneaking away from the plant again, having lunch to relax and catch up.

We talked about the times I worked for Patti and she and I would go out to give Merlin telephone presentations to secretaries, and sometimes their bosses, telling them about the advantages the "then new" electronic "key system" had over the old 50s and 60s style "1A2" system, with its 6-button sets; each set wired via a 25-pair cable.

We met some characters in those days, like a nameless lawyer who once asked Patti if she knew where a certain candy store was in Knoxville.  Patti told him no, and asked him why he thought she should.  The lawyer, assuming since Patti was a little on the plump side then, said, "I would have thought you knew where every candy store in Knoxville was!"  

Patti was my boss, and I have always loved her, so I wasn't about to laugh in front of her, but believe me I nearly busted a gut holding it back.  I was also surprised Patti didn't rip him apart.  If you knew Patti, like we knew Patti, you knew she could probably hold her own with the old gray-haired man in the dark "lawyer" suit!  She never let a "man" get the upper hand, but, this time, she only let him know, in the kindest of ways, how out of place his comment was.

I remember when Patti first became my boss too.  She called the three of us guys into her office and flat out told us "sexual harassment" was mandatory!  Try that today!

You should have seen our faces!  However, right from the beginning, Patti let everyone know she was boss and didn't want any special treatment because she was a woman.  I don't think I've met too many women in my life that were as strong, resourceful, engaging, or as intelligent as she was.  She loved to laugh and have fun on the job, but business got done, or you explained why your part didn't meet her expectations.

Then there was Robert.  We kept each other laughing from the minute we met.  He'll always be special to me...almost like a son, or brother.  He was much younger than me, but even then we taught each other a lot about our business in telecommunications, and how to deal with clients.  The time at work just seemed to fly by...he made it fun.

Once we shared interviews for a new hire in our department.  We were looking for a well organized person to sort out our records and stock.  We sat around his unkempt desk, which was piled high with unrelated papers and pieces of electronic equipment, talking to the final applicant of the day.  

Robert was always the "messy" one, not caring how his desk, or his truck for that matter, looked.  He raised his boys to not care about things, and that family was all that was important.  However, that carefree attitude was foreign to me.  He knew it made me uneasy, but he loved to watch me look around his office, or move things off the seat or kick them out of my way in his truck!  

When he visited my "anal" office, he would keep talking but move something out of its place when I wasn't looking.  He would then grin when I couldn't stand it any longer and moved it back into its proper place!

Anyway, the interview went on and on until Robert finally asked me if I had any more questions.  I said yes, and turned to the young lady and said, "Does anything in this office bother you?"

She looked at me, then Robert, and then shyly said, "Yes, this desk.  It's killing me!" 

I wiped my hands, as if finished, and said, "You're hired!  It's has always killed me too, so I think you're just what this job needs!"

Robert looked shocked, but didn't say a word.  He just sat there with a big grin and agreed with me.

Ah, yes, and the road trips we took together were wonderful experiences!  

Robert on road trip to Huntsville!

Once several of us from IT went to Huntsville, AL to benchmark a project we had coming up.  It turned out that Robert and I road together in my '89 Mustang.

We didn't know each other very well at that time, but we got in and I pointed at the tape player and said, that's your responsibility...mine's to drive.

So off down the highway we roared, sunroof open, windows down, and Robert played every tape I had on volume 8 or 9!  I even introduced him to Lynyrd Skynyrd!   We had a ball singing along and playing air-guitar!

Patti looked wonderful Thursday.  She's lost a lot of weight since I had seen her last, and it was only then that I learned that she almost died in a nasty car accident last year.  It was the hard way to lose pounds, but she looked great and seems determined to keep it off.  

I was a little upset that I hadn't known about the accident before, but that's the way it is when you have a "working relationship" I guess.  But even though she doesn't look like the old Patti, she's still the Patti I love.

Robert, well, Robert has become me.  The me I was about 20 years ago.  I little gray around the edges, and his edges are a little rounder than they were then.  But, he's still my Robert...has the laugh and smile, I always liked!  The young Robert inside is still there and that's his best quality.

I say all this...and I could tell so much more...just to say thanks guys for being my friend.  I love you both and enjoy you so much.  Let's not let too much time pass before getting together again.  Life is short and we only have a few years left to build up even more memories to sustain us through those coming winter days of age.

SHAMELESS SELF-PROMOTION!

Okay, so I'm promoting another of my websites here...PAUL MASHBURN - FINE ART, but if I don't who will?!

I have been accumulating photos for years, and have finally got to the place in my life where I have the time to spend outside at different times of the day and night to capture the images I see in my mind's eye, and the money for the kind of equipment one needs to do the job right. 

Photography has always been a passion of mine, or at least from the time, back in 1964, when a friend, Frank Boyce, gave me an old "Mamiya rangefinder" 35mm.  I used that little wonder all through the Air Force, including documenting my tour in Vietnam, and up until the time I started working for the Roane County NEWS as advertising manager.

Man, did I have fun working in advertising.  Naturally, it involved great accounts with the boutiques in our little county, and pretty high school girls (who weren't that much younger than me then), and beautiful clothes!  What more could a creative mind and a love for photography ask for?!

Of course, I spent my time on the sidelines, nearly getting creamed by running backs, just to get that one great shot for the sports page!  I think the anticipation of the darkroom experience after the game was almost as exciting as the game itself.  I loved the smell and feel of the darkroom, but most of all what you could do with a negative.  All the while, looking forward to surprising my owner/editor with a great shot!

Today my darkroom consist or software called Photoshop!  No smell, no feel, just greater control.  However, I miss the isolation and the yellow light glowing up in the dusty corner of a musty little curtained off room.

Another chance meeting that spurred my interest and knowledge in photography was working with Bill Hall*, who was a renowned, yet mischievous, photographer, and the paper's chief camera man.  He used a Hasselblad, a "Hackeyblad" as he called it, which in my mind elevated him to great photographic stature!  I was almost ashamed to stand by him with my little Minolta 35mm!

I learned a lot about the art of photography, and the darkroom from Bill.  I owe him for pushing me on to be the best I could be with what I had.

In this old newspaper clipping (above), you can see that I did all the work (a day teaching), while Bill flirted with the college gals and got the photo credit at the bottom. 

However, I soon began getting my own "credit line", as the clipping above shows.  I was just Paul then...the "J" came later!

I even spent my time sweating, literally, over a 39, plus 1 double exposure, wedding shoot so I could thrill some newly wed with a cheap (cost wise) wedding album.  Thirty-nine 8X10 photos in a tufted and monogrammed album all for $200!  No one could beat it...except maybe with a little more quality that multiple lights offered, but hey, I couldn't afford all the extras at the time.  I was just trying to supplement my $150 a week income, and possibly save enough for a better camera, or another Mustang!

I ended up with a 2 1/4X2 3/4 format camera called a Rapid Omega 200.  It was really nice and gave me some of the finest color negatives I ever got from a film camera.  I still have it...if anyone's interested!

So, back to today...I decided to offer my best photos (solely judged by me) for sale.  I get request all the time from my Flickr site from people wanting this or that, but never had a way of really selling to the public.  After getting request for my night shot from Buzzard's Bluff recently, I started researching in earnest.

I found Fine Art America while Googling and comparing companies, and I think I like what they offer.  There is no commission to be paid...I just list base price I want out of a sale, and they add on shipping, handling, tax, framing, and take credit card payment from the buyers.  I simply get a check for what they've sold for me every two weeks.

Well, don't get excited, I haven't made any money yet, and I probably will never get rich, but at least when someone asks how they can get a copy of a photo of mine I have somewhere to send them, and I just stay out of the negotiation.  They can take it or leave it...I just want to take pictures!

Oh, did I ever give you the website?  JUST CLICK HERE, and check it out!  Check back often too...I'll be posting new ones there frequently.

*Just learned today, 071618, that Bill passed away.  So sorry.

MY OTHER FAMILY

My son's mother, Connie, and I divorced way back in '78, but over the years we've become good friends again.  Her husband and I often introduce each other to friends as "my husband-in-law"!  That sounds so much better than "my X-wife's husband", and it doesn't carry the negative connotations that normally goes along with such an introduction.

Belinda, Janet, Connie, and Judy.

Uncle James, Bill, Belinda, Brandon, and Brooke.

I'll have to admit that would probably not have happened had we not had Corey in common.  He drew us back together as his step-dad, Larry (now deceased), and I stood hanging on the chain link fence, side-by-side shouting encouragement, at his little league ball games.  Larry and I also became friends through those activities, and over time Connie and my current/last wife Judy got to know each other.

Gary finishing up the dogs, while Uncle Cecil supervises!

Judy and "Dub" (Connie's dad)

Aunt Wanda, Uncle Cecil, and Aunt Joyce!

When Larry died, Judy and I were there, at the funeral, with the rest of the family.

Truth be known, Judy and Connie's relationship has had a lot to do with us ultimately getting closer, in a friendly, almost family again, kind of way.  We now often visit to share a meal and our grandchildren, who are themselves instruments of peace and love.

Aunt Wilma and Uncle James (Belinda's parents)

Mary Lois (Dub's friend)

I like Connie now, which I had stopped doing by the end of our 10-year marriage, but now there is a "family love" for her.  She is, after all, the mother of my son, and she is also a very good person.  I can respect and love her for all that, without there being any other connection or feelings.  We are just friends with the added connection of having a son and two beautiful grandchildren in common.

Gary and Connie's backyard...made just for grand-kids!

Her family has always been special to me as well, and her mom, before she died a couple of years back, and her dad always introduced me as "my son"!  That was always a warm and mutual love her family and I shared.  That connection would have always remained had Connie and I never reconnected again.

Corey works on the slide under Brandon and Bill's supervision!

Thank God it happened though.  There is such peace in my life knowing that her family and I still have a close relationship.  I am also thankful that my son and his girls will grow up knowing us as "family" and not X's!  There will never be a need for them to feel anxious when we are together at birthday parties, like there is in other divorced situations.  We will always be just part of the family...one family, in their eyes.

Grant watches as Lily leaps into the air!

Recently I took these photos at a gathering of "family".  One of Connie's aunts, Wanda, came "home" from the Memphis area to see her sisters and their extended families.  She specifically requested to see "all the family" together, so Connie made sure that Judy and I knew to come.  It was wonderful to see her again.  Her husband, Sam, was one of my best friends.  Before he died, we did a lot of fishing and camping together.  There is still a hole in my heart from his passing, and I'll write about all that one day.

Lily aims the water cannon at herself!

Gary, as usual, gave everyone the full food selection...burgers, dogs, chicken, and chile, along with all the fixings that support whatever one choose to eat!  The food was great, which has always been a hallmark of that family.

Judy wakes Kinsley from her nap!

Connie's cousin, Belinda and her husband Bill, and I reminisced about our college days when we commuted from Harriman to UT.  It was a special time for us; they living with her parents, and Connie and me living with her's.  We had fun during the ride to and from school each day, and after school, and before studying, we played hard.  Sometimes it was badminton, horseshoes, bottle rocket fights, playing polo with croquet mallets while riding on lawnmowers, or sliding in the snow on lawn-chairs attached to water-skis!  We were always getting into something!

Bill, Belinda, Connie (Oh, you know she'll hate this shot!), and Mushy back in 1969 while at UT.

However, this past week we just stood back and watched our grandchildren as they played on the big water slide, and took pictures.  There is always some new milestone to document, like Kinsley learning to climb up into the slide without help...what a great thing that was!

I had such a great time watching them play in the backyard and being with my other family again!

SHE COMES DOWN YELLOW MOUNTAIN

A friend of mine posted a Michael Martin Murphey tune on Facebook last evening and it brought back a rush of memories so special that I choked up and cried silently.  The song is "Wildfire".  A slow sentimental song about the ghost of a little girl and her magical horse Wildfire.  It is a tune I fine rather easy to sing, with lyrics that somehow stay in my head...probably forever.

She comes down from Yellow Mountain
On a dark, flat land she rides
On a pony she named Wildfire
With a whirlwind by her side
On a cold Nebraska night

I used to sit in the dark, rocking my son Corey, singing softly to him as he took his bottle.  It seemed to claim him and his eyes would stare up at me, and it at least appeared that he enjoyed my singing.

Today Corey is an accomplished singer who loves singing in church.  If you ride with him, he always has a stash of Christian music, and one special CD in the slot that has the song he will perform the following Sunday.  I even dig some of the Christian Rock disks he has, but mostly I just love sitting there listening to him practice his song. 

Now, I know my singing to him as a baby didn't shape his voice, 'cause he probably got that from his mother, but maybe I did put him on the road to loving music like he does.  I like to think so anyway.

I know, I have run this into the ground time after time, but I did ask God to use him because I knew how lazy I was and am.  However, I say it again just to thank God for answering my prayer for him.  He is truly a blessing to all that hear his voice.  I'm proud to be known as "Corey's Dad".

Good night son...where ever you are tonight.

TOO SPECIAL TO THROW AWAY

Judy and I are donating an old dresser, and a couple of end tables, to the local community college theater group, so I spent the day going through the drawers, and trying to find other places for the junk stored in them.  I threw a lot of things away, but down near the bottom of a couple of dusty drawers were a few snap shots that I had completely forgotten about.

Here are a few of the most special ones I came across...

Ranking them, I'd have to say me feeding Katie Bug is number 1!  What a special moment that lucky Papaw's get to share with their grand-kids.  Look at those trusting little eyes...how in the world can some people mistreat children...especially little babies?  

This sure makes me miss her today, but she's off at college, preparing for her own life and future family.  We'll never share such a close moment again, so that's what makes this photo of that moment in '92 so special.

Then there were two I found of my dog Lacy...my candidate for "best dog ever"!  

She was very protective of her human family and even looked the part of a vicious guard dog!  However, to us, she was very loving.  I miss her terribly.  I think these two shots from '92 were the best I ever captured of her.  Note the "half-white" left eye...part of what made her so fearsome looking to strangers!

I couldn't help but laugh when I cam across "the nose picker" shot of Mickey Jones and me!  This was from a 1984 gathering to plan our 20th class reunion.  The Class of '64 has always been close and this just proves it.  Here we are clowning just like be did in class some twenty years earlier!

There are going to be some other dusty drawers in our house that will become overly stuffed from cleaning out this old dresser, but some things are just too special to throw away!

ENJOYING THE SNOW - A FAMILY TRADITION

The first photo I have of Corey (at right) enjoying the snow is from 1976.  Doesn't he look comfy in that fuzzy outfit!? He has always enjoyed the white stuff and so has the family.  Corey had his whole family out in it yesterday at his Papaw Harmon's, where the whole clan used to enjoy winter snows.

Even back in the early 70's, while Corey's mom and I were living at the Harmon's, and I was attending UT, I would come home from school (UT never closes) and hit the front yard slope!  My friend Bill and I would stay out late in the light of the porch light and run the hill until we were just too pooped to climb the hill one more time.  I would then go in and struggle to keep my eyes open long enough to study.

Those were good times, with a lawn chair bolted to a pair of water skis, we would slip into supersonic speeds, traveling well over a hundred yards at times.  Some snows back in those days would stay on the ground for days, giving us extra good times.  Today, you have to sled that morning or miss out!

However, this week's 4 or 5 inches has stuck to us like a Thanksgiving feast!  I've been out in it two days now and thinking about giving up today's nap and hitting the snowy trail again!

The snowmen photo is of Lily yesterday, enjoying her first real taste of outdoor fun in the snow, and of her dad back in 1978.  Lily pulled herself up the hill more than anyone thought, even though occasionally she would simply fall down and begin eating snow!  It was a refreshing pause, one that I too remember from days gone by.  

Back in my day (that's what old folks say) my parents would say, "Don't eat that snow...it's radioactive!"  It was probably true, but I would sneak and eat 3 or 4 snowballs every time it snowed.  Yesterday, all the advice offered to Lily was, "Don't eat yellow snow!"

Corey is a competitive sports nut and always goes until he drops.  His spinning "disk" sledding feats were a dizzying affair yesterday, one that would have had me puking!  He's loved the disk since '78.  It's a shame your kids can't grow up with you and enjoy all the old times with you.  He would have been impressed with his old man, almost as much as I am of him today!

Judy and I have always taken off work when it would snow...not because we couldn't get there, but because we wanted to "play in the snow"!  People our age are still amazed, for some reason, at how much we love the snow. 

We used to get out at night and walk in the woods while it was snowing.  It's a great adventure and great fun, and you'd be amazed at how well you can see at night in the snow.  All the light available is amplified by the snow with a glow all around you.  It's also wonderful how the sound of snow coming down through the dried leaves makes you feel.  It's so comforting and relaxing!  I miss that...have to try it again soon, but the snows lately have been coming down in the wee hours of morning.  Next time one begins late in the evening...we'll be out there!

Monday, Judy and I were out down by the creek behind the house.  The creek empties into the lake and at that junction Geese nest.  We tried to get close for photos, and we did get close enough for my 300mm lens to get a few good shots before they scattered.

Judy did her first snow angel, which I still don't believe it was her first, and she was so proud of it!

So, come on, let it snow...we've still got a few good times left in us!