LEAVING MY INNOCENCE BEHIND

I got a little out of sequence by writing about The Beacon Drive-In back in October of ’06, but it was in that piece that told how Woody and I seem to circle that place endlessly, and one night decided we would get out of that rut by joining the Air Force. That piece would chronologically follow the drag race piece and then this one.

That was the end of innocence for me. The day I decided I did not want to be a child anymore – what the hell was I thinking? Gees, I could have possibly milked that life at least another year or two, and who knows, maybe I would have become an electrician like my old man. Then, of course, I would have missed the war, never gone to college, and never known anything I know and cherish today.

Nevertheless, I chose to leave Harriman, my parents, some of my innocence, and all my youth behind me.

Imagine you are eighteen years old and far from home among strangers and some tough looking Drill Instructor (DI) and his huge black sidekick starts yelling at you during every waking hour and sometimes in your dreams. What do you do? You just look him, listen to every word he barks, and do everything he asks without questioning.

After your first two weeks in boot camp you begin the psychological state the drill sergeants work hard at provoking in your mind. You begin to think that you have always been at Lackland Air Force Base and that you have always been doing whatever you are doing at any given moment for the DI. You become totally his, putty in his hands, and you would literally charge a machine gun nest if he asked. That is the simple fact why the military takes recruits at the tender malleable age of eighteen. They would take them younger if it were constitutionally legal.

As soon as I arrived the DI told us, “I am now your momma! I am now your daddy! I am now your brother! I am now your sister! BUT, I’ll be damn if I’ll be your girlfriend!”

“Do as I say or you’ll have my foot so far up your ass you’ll have to have it surgically removed! Do you understand me?”

“Yes sir.”

“I can’t hear you!”

“YES SIR!”

That was the way if was from the first sticky August night I arrived, standing at forced stiff attention in my civilian clothes. We marched, or tried to, until the next evening in our “civvies!” This is why new recruits are called “Rainbows.” Their bright colored clothing stands out like a sore thumb beside the olive drab of the hundreds of older troops marching everywhere you look.

I arrived with about thirty-five new troops at about 1AM. Everyone was dog-tired and barely conscious from sitting around airports, flying, and riding buses since 6AM the previous morning.

We were marched into a huge building, which turned out to be an experimental barracks the Air Force was testing, and told which bunk was ours. The DI then announced at the top of his voice, “You got fifteen minutes to shit, shower, shave, and get in that bunk. Hit it! The lights go out in 14 minutes!”

Somehow the thirty-five of us made that deadline before “lights out,” but just barely. Everyone I passed, like me, had little pieces of toilet paper stuck all over their faces to stop the bleeding. When you are tired, standing five or six deep in front of a mirror, and are scared shitless, it is a wonder you do not slit your throat!

I remember waking the next morning and sitting up startled, as “The time now is zero five-thirty hours! Get up, get dressed, and get outside,” blared from the loudspeaker! I also remember that the pillow was stuck to the side of my face from the dried blood I had shed during the past four hours I was asleep!

We jumped into our clothes, pissed, brushed our teeth, splashed water on our face and ran down the stairs to the waiting DI and his assistant who were busily trying to show troops where and how to stand and wait on the others.

We left behind a bed, latrine, and barracks area in a shambles, but this was the last time we jumped out of bed as carefree as we used to do at home.

After breakfast, we double-timed over to supply and had our new wardrobe thrown into our faces, our hair shaved off, and then double-timed it back to the barracks. It was then we began learning the finer points of making hospital corners, making a bed tight enough to bounce a quarter off a foot in the air, how to properly arrange and display our clothing and toilet articles, and how to clean the latrine, all before leaving within thirty minutes of “zero five-thirty hours!”

This discipline does not just happen over night, but with a lot of screamed encouragement down the back your shirt you learned pretty quickly!

This was just the first morning and my innocence and former existence were now far behind!

SUMMER THUNDER STORMS

A cold front moved through Thursday, bringing us some much-needed rain, but it also brought through some unneeded high winds. There was considerable damage in the city of Harriman, while my subdivision only got sporadic wind sheer. This huge limb came from the top of an old oak behind my house. You could see the nice hole the wind made coming through the trees from the west!

However, this was minor compared to the June 2003 storm that toppled four trees and topped several others in our yard. With my trusty chainsaw, I should have this cleaned up in a couple of hours.

To get the rain, it is almost worth it!

THE FULL CONTINGENT

All six Knights and all five Dragons posed for photos Monday evening, at our house, after dinning on cubed-steak and gravy, green beans, mashed potatoes, coleslaw, and cornbread! It was so good you would slap your mamma for the last bite!

Tony (orange t-shirt) is sort of an honorary member of both groups since he is not married. However, the gathering was in his honor. He is the Dragons' baby brother and only visits three or four times a year. He lives in Atlanta, and the Dragons often travel down there for a day visit.

To us Knights, just another excuse to party and over eat! On this particular day, after Sunday on the lake, we did not think much about enjoying our beer! We were content with the sweet and unsweetened tea Neena had made!

About the time everyone was ready to leave my daughter and granddaughter arrived “fashionably late” in time to say goodbye to everyone. Katie Bug was 15 on the 16th, and looking forward to her sophomore year starting very soon!

SUNDAY ON THE LAKE

Off in the distance, on a tiny little peninsula jutting out into Watts Bar Lake, could be heard the sounds of laughter, laughter that any passer-by would find irritating. It is often uncontrollable, and even strange to the uninitiated, but to those who long for close family bonds it is comforting.

So here we all sat, except for one Dragon and one Knight, this past Sunday, enjoying each other’s company, the warm sunny summer day with just the right breeze to cool us under the portable awning, and watching the sun glisten off the calm waters. It was one relaxing day to remember long after summer ends.

Besides the laughter and fellowship, we had this gay flotilla of “pink floaties” that passed by, and the pool of bets on how many beers it takes to make Steve turn over and roll into the lake to entertain us! Everyone in unison was soon chanting, “Going, going, gone!”

And of course Steve springs to his feet declaring, “I meant to do that!”

How I love the days of summer as I ease into the fall of my life.

PROM MEMORIES

I probably do not remember much about my junior prom because it was not one of my greatest moments.

I have always loved being with “the guys” and doing what guys do, talking trash, drinking beer, camping or hiking, fishing, shooting, driving down new country roads, or just sitting around sucking on a cigar (well, it was cigarettes in those days) and enjoying the peace and quiet of the moment. So, I suppose this made me a bit independent with the ladies. I mean, women were just a lower priority in those days.

It was nothing for me to take a girl home in the middle of a date and then go either look up my male friends or continue the “double date” as a fun loving chauffer! I think I have already mentioned this, but once when a girl complained about me tapping the gas peddle around and around the Beacon, pretending my dad’s ’64 Pontiac had a racing cam, I took her home and drove Barry and his date around the rest of the evening! Sad, I know, but very indicative of the way I thought about life. If someone does not enjoy you the way you are, the hell with them or her. There are plenty of fish in the sea, I would think, and not worry about it in the least.

So it was on Junior Prom night in l963. Charlotte was a lovely little blond girl with a nice smile and pretty legs, best I remember. I can remember where she lived with her big brothers and how I worried about dragging something off the undercarriage going up her rocky drive way.

What I do not remember is what she did to piss me off!

Some time during the prom evening I simply left the prom without her! It must have been serious enough in my mind at least, but looking back it was a shameful event for which I never apologized.

I left with two other guys who were also fed up their dates. The decision was we could be having so much more fun driving the back roads to Wartburg and Oakdale with a six-pack of beer. So off we went, satisfied that we did not need a girl to make us happy.

All the girls at school thought we were awful pigs, but the guys, even though they would not say it in earshot of a girl, thought we were cool! It was all forgotten in a couple of weeks and we all started dating again – after all, most of the under classmen had not heard of our deed!

Senior year prom was an after thought for me. I knew the prom was coming, but really did not want to be bothered with fancy clothes, flowers, and the formality of such an event. However, once I learned that all my friends had dates, I decided I had better get one.

Now, I am not saying that Becky was all that was left, because she was not. Let us just say that Becky had not been asked before I came along. She was a very attractive brunette, with pointy glasses, a huge smile full of teeth, and a nice tall curvy body for a sophomore. I had noticed her before this and had considered asking her out, but never seemed to get around to it. So, I asked her to be my Senior Prom date, and she giggled her acceptance.

I remember mom insisted I bring her by the house before we went to the prom for pictures, which in those days was an old Brownie Hawkeye loaded with black and white Kodak film. As you can see, the photo is not the best in the world, but it serves to document that the event did occur.

I can remember arriving at the Cumberland Middle School gym, where the prom was scheduled. I remember a friend, Arty, was the organist in the evening’s band, all bands had organs in those days, and they were playing “The House of the Rising Sun!”

After this, my memory fades to black. I am left with only the memory of the night and that I did not leave her stranded. I remember taking her home and giving her one short kiss, which was enough to discover she had halitosis! It was our first and last date.

A COUPLE OF LOOSE ENDS

I spent half a day in Traffic Court on Friday, with about 100 other felons! There were actually 240 items on the docket due to the “domestic” judge being out of town. The single judge held dual purpose court! Several people elected to reschedule their court dates until August, September, and even October, but I stood firm (along the wall with about 20 other folks without seats) and soon we were down to about a 100 and they got on with the proceedings.

We heard about 6 divorces cases and one “she owes me money” case before us real felons got our day in court. All in all, it worked out well for me. I was the only one who stepped up and loudly, in my friendliest voice, said, “Good morning your honor…Officer,” shaking my head at the Tennessee Highway Patrolman who had so cleverly hidden behind the Sonic sign near the school zone!

What happened here Mushy (not his real name)? “I knew it was after 9AM sir, there were no children on the street, there were no parked cars, and I was the only vehicle on the street, so I elected to let my truck coast down rather than braking, your honor. It was my fault,” I confessed.

Normally, the offense would have cost me $186, plus court costs, but by sticking with the court date, and being extra courteous, I got off with $42 in court and $50 in traffic school costs. The class is two hours this Thursday evening. Hey, you do what you have to do for a $94 savings and nothing noted on your record!

Finally, the shoulder! The doctor says I’m fine, or will be fine, but I have another 6 weeks in physical therapy. The therapist says I will more than likely have some deficient, but I should have good range of motion that can be tolerated in my golf game!

Two of the shots shown give a hint to the amount of scare tissue that I developed in about 5 weeks after the first operation, and the scraping tool used to scrap off and suck up the removed tissue. As I’ve said, apparently I’m a super fast healer.

The third shot shows the big stitches holding the rotator cuff repair in place.

My advice to anyone contemplating shoulder surgery – don’t do it until you are on your knees crying in pain…live with it as long as you possibly can. Secondly, if you do have it, get to therapy as soon as possible…the next day if you can!

HAVE COMPUTER – WILL REPAIR!

Sunday was spent replacing the CD RW drive in my wife’s computer. She wanted the Scrapbook software I have on my PC installed on her's, but the drive would not read anything I put in it. We bought the PC from my step-dad, who died back in the winter. Gave him $300 for the Wal-Mart special, but it has done quite well up until now.

My brother sent me a CD/DVD combo unit he had and I “cracked the case” and popped it in down in the basement workshop. I remembered to make it the “master” drive and switched the IDE configuration jumper selection from “cable select.” It fired up normally and I downloaded the latest driver.

After that, I loaded the Scrapbook software and everyone was happy – for a while!

In attempting to burn some photo files to a CD for her to use in building her pages, I noticed that the CD burner on my PC was having problems. Therefore, I went to Best Buy Monday, bought a medium priced CD/DVD RW drive (with Light-Scribe), and installed it today. I changed the jumper settings as usual, but I forgot to change the existing DVD drive in the machine from CS to Master. The PC could not find the new drive! After some cussing, I cracked the case in the computer room floor and moved the jumper.

After that, it fired up as it is supposed to, downloaded its own firmware updates, and I am again in business.

I love working on these things as long as it all goes my way. If not, I have to fight myself not to take a hammer to it! Patience jackass, patience!

THE PRINCESS THEATER

Before I leave my innocence behind and move off to the Air Force, I thought I had better do an installment on the Princess Theater in Harriman. I had almost forgotten about it, although I pass its empty shell most days, but I found a video clip on YouTube last night that brought it all back (clip at the end of the post). I sure hope there is a renaissance of the theater for nostalgia sake, if not because it might help bring people back down town.

“Walley” Worlds have killed the small town, not to mention the sprawling urban shopping areas that get closer and closer with each passing year. It seems that one day there will be no divisions between the cities and the small towns, just more urban area to incorporate. Maybe by the year 3000 the whole country will just be called the “Great City of the United States!” Such a sad day and I am glad I will not be around to see it.

The Princess Theater was the highlight of entertainment during the days of my youth. Oh, there were other theaters, skating rinks, a bowling alley, a drive-in theater, and a number of drive-in restaurants, but none of those holds fonder memories than the 50s and 60s movies I saw at the Princess.

There are fond memories of seeing the early Disney movies like “Bambi,” released in 1957, “Old Yeller” in 1958, “Sleeping Beauty” in 1959, and the other classics.

There was also the first 3-D movie I ever saw “The Creature from the Black Lagoon” in 1954. It was not so much scary to me as erotic – Julie Adams in that white bathing suit was just hot and I wished I was the monster!

While logic would dictate that I saw some of these at the Mi De Ga Theater in Waverly, Tennessee, the blender of time will always make me think I saw them all at the Princess.

Oh, and the horror classics of the time still shine the most in my memory. Vincent Price, Lon Chaney Jr., Peter Cushing, Boris Karloff, and Christopher Lee all gave me many a restless night, but I could not stop watching. Again, these movies, while they kept me awake at night, were also very erotic to me in some strange way. There was just something about carrying off a helpless beauty or sneaking into her bedroom – oh my! You know how the adolescent mind works – remember?

I remember the popcorn smell of the theater and the sticky/tacky touch of the floor between the seats and the little squishy sounds it made when you walked over it.

I remember the low hum of teenage voices, just under the movie sounds, whispering in the ears of their dates or remarks made out loud meant to make an impression on some pretty girl.

I remember leaning out from an end seat and looking down the carpeted aisle illuminated by the little lights on the sides of the seats. I do not know why I liked to look down the aisles, but maybe it was the colorful carpet in the unique lighting. For some strange reason it was a safe place to me, and I loved being there among friends and acquaintances – sharing the experience of being in a movie theater.

Occasionally, there was a live show, or at least a prelude show to build up the intrigue in the up coming horror show. “If you frighten easily, or if you have heart problems, or if you are here alone, I advise you to leave now!” This, of course, only made you want to see the movie that much more. “The screen will flash red just before a scary scene to warn you. That will give you time to hide your eyes!”

“Okay, okay,” everyone would shout, “get on with it!”

The popcorn and the Coke tasted so good as you crammed your mouth full of the salty, buttery food and soaked it down with the icy, sweet, and syrupy liquid. And Goobers and Sugar Babies! Oh, my gosh, what I would give for a pack of Goobers right now!

Well, some just nibbled the corn, one kernel at a time, but I was like a hamster, bulging out my cheeks and not swallowing until it was thoroughly chewed! This must have been an added attraction for my dates!

I think back on those days and nights and the calculated strategy of trying to sneak an arm up and around a girl’s neck, and let it rest there on a fake rabbit collar, gently rubbing the Ban Lon sweater sleeve with your hand, and inhaling the White Shoulders perfume. Come to think of it, this could have been the beginnings of my shoulder problems. Girls do not realize that this position is really uncomfortable and within the first two to three minutes your arm usually went to sleep, but you would not move it for the world. To a young boy it was worth the pain just to get into position to slide into first base!

This position was also a point of some status – to be seen out with one whom you thought to be the prettiest girl in school, with your arm around her at the movie.

Finally, I remember the balcony – a place I was only allowed after the 60’s and after I married the manager’s daughter. Before then it was just for the “Colored” folks, who occasionally dropped off empty cups and popcorn boxes onto us snobby “white” folks below. I am so glad that time ended; otherwise I would have never got to enjoy a movie from the balcony, which was closed to everyone except family.

So, here is a piece that was posted on YouTube in 2006 about the efforts to bring the Princess back to her glory. Here is hoping that happens! My grandchildren also deserve fond memories of her as well.

DINNING OUT WITH GOOD FRIENDS IS PRICELESS

Saturday was family day with dinner out in Knoxville. This week the Dragons chose Bonefish Grill. It’s a wonderful place on Parkside Drive, in the Turkey Creek shopping area. They seem to have a handle on fresh fish and always have at least 7 selections.

For drinks the ladies chose Beringer White Zinfandel, while the men settled for Miller Lite (btl), Sierra Nevada (btl), and New Castle draft.

Bonefish has a beautiful little bar, but sadly their draft choices are limited to New Castle, Miller Lite, and Samuel Adams Summer. The Knights demand at least Sierra Nevada, Killian, Bass, or some other good pale ale along with the usual domestics. We struggled through 3 or 4 of what they had, so it was not a total loss!

For more on the food choices we made flip over to Mushy’s Cookings!

And yes, even after all those appetizers and entrees, Gary and I ventured next door to MaggieMoo’s for a freshly mixed double dip of Better Batter Cake Carnival! Needless to say, the diet isn’t going too well.

Total tab for the Mushy’s was around $100! But, good food, good beer, and great friends are priceless!

HAPPY POST 4TH OF JULY!

Wow, sure hope everyone had a fun and safe 4th of July I know we did! The only downer was that one of the Dragons could not make it due to back and leg problems, which meant we were shot a Knight as well. Bummer…maybe things will be back to normal after the end of July for all of us.

I could not get in the water, due to shoulder wounds from the second surgery, but I cheered them on from the shaded comfort of a canopy tent on the bank. We have found a wonderful little cove that is shielded from the frantic boat and wave-runners of the main Tennessee River channel. The little cove and surrounding forest has all the conveniences of home (see Gary off in the woods doing what a man has to do).

However, there is no air conditioning like we enjoyed on the houseboat, but there was a steady little breeze and those that did get wet said it was chilly before drying off.

The hotdogs, slaw, sour kraut, onions, and mustard were delicious hot off the camping stove. Steve complained the entire time about not have any ketchup…says you cannot enjoy a hotdog without it! Where’s he from…Georgia?

If you looked around for something to eat, you had to look for Judy…she always had everything in her lap! Oh, those cookies sure were good – had not had any sweets in a long time!

The beer was cold and the Macanudos (and one Ashton) were very relaxing, while thinking about Bruno. I just sat back and listened to the banter of my wonderfully funny family. As Steve excused himself between my wife’s and my chair he said, “Watch your koozie.” Without hesitation my wife replies, “Oh, I didn’t know it was showing!”

Then there was the moment Gary thought he saw lightning, but it was my camera flash! I asked where he thought the best place to be was if a storm did come. After taking another hit off his beer, he replied, “I’m staying right here next to the water. If I get hit, I can just roll over into the water and put myself out!”

It goes on like this most of the time, but we did miss the antics of Neena who was home resting. She is the maharishi of puns and ribs when she is around.

Well, happy 4th again and for those of you that have to work the rest of the week…sorry!

MY WIFE IS KICKING HER LITTLE BOY OUT!

I was bribed today with a great meal and some cold beer to accompany my wife to the Oak Factory Outlet! The mission was to find me an oak dresser to match my other bedroom furniture. Up until now, I had a mix of oak and painted pine, which was fine with me! The red dresser I now use matches the shelves I built many moons ago to hold my Hot Wheels Mustang and AC Cobra collection.

Now honestly, don’t it look fine the way it is? Women!

Now I’ll have to take them all down to the basement and patch the holes in the wall the shelves made. The next thing she’ll want me to do is replace the race car border! It won’t be my room anymore!

She once had a hen party and one lady walking through the house commented, “I didn’t know you had a little boy.”

“Yes, I do, and he’s my husband. That’s his room!” my wife told her.

Never had a room of my own growing up, and I roomed with 35 other dudes in the Air Force, or 6 in the tent in Vietnam, and then I got married. I was thrilled when my snoring forced me into my own room – or die! Then, right when I get it the way I want it…I have to grow up and get an adult room.

It just isn’t fair I tell you!

Okay vote: How many like it the way it is? How many the way it will be?

THE DRAG RACES

Remember my story about breaking into the fairgrounds, well it turns out that was not the last time I ignored a barrier!

Barry’s brother Dale was about the coolest dude I knew in high school. Well, Dale had already graduated, but hanging with him and Barry was at the top of my list of great cool things to do back then.

Dale had a baby-blue ’55 Ford with a huge 390 cubic inch engine nestled under its sleek customized hood. The hood ornament had long since been removed; the holes filled in, sanded, and painted over.

Damn, I wish I had a photo of that car, because I cannot, for the life of me, remember if it had baby-moon hubcaps or spinners, and that is such an important thing to remember, but sorry guys, I cannot see it in my mind.

I do remember it had a 3-speed stick shift and Dale kept either the original 4-barrel manifold, a Holley and manifold, and a 3-duce and manifold in the trunk. He normally ran around town with the Holley.

Just behind each front tire, and just after the section where the exhaust manifold connected to the exhaust pipe, were 2 inch “cut-out” or “knock-off” pipes. In the back floorboard you could always find a pair of leather gloves for turning the caps off these pipes when they were hot. Once off, the engine breathed added life and often exhaled fire as the large block contorted in response to Dale’s heavy foot!

God! Can’t you just hear that now? Only a true child of the 60’s can still hear and appreciate such a sound. The exhaust coupled with the deep-throated sucking sound of a 4-barrel carb is like the soft wet poke of a pretty girl’s tongue in your ear – at first shocking but suddenly and forever addictive!

Bumblebee car exhaust may sound super to today’s young boys, but to us old boomers, they sound so sick, and near death!

Each Saturday Dale went to the Harriman Drag Strip with Barry and me riding along as his makeshift pit crew. However, we rarely rode through the gate. We instead jumped out about a quarter mile from the ticket booth and ran down the corrugated fence line to the river’s edge.

The owners of the strip had built the fence straight out over the water, but time and wave action had eroded a huge hole beneath the fence. So, it was easy enough for us to slip down, under, and around the fence and onto the wooded bank on the inside of the drag strip.

By the time Barry and I came out of the woods, zipping our pants as if we had just taken a leak, Dale would have made it to the pit area, parked, and begun his perusal of the competition. Depending on who attended that day and what they were running on top of their engine, determined what class Dale would sign up to run against.

The classes were determined by several factors, but the major one to Dale was the carburetion package. So, when he returned to his pit-crew he would yell out which manifold package to get him out of the trunk.

Barry ran to the trunk and picked up the system Dale wanted and helped by handing him tools, while I busied myself taking off the hubcaps, the “knock-offs”, and emptying the trunk of all excess weight. This is not much by today’s pit-crew standards, but to 17-year-old boys, it was the big time!

Next, we all jumped into putting the larger “slicks” on the rear – setting up and pumping the jack, rolling tires back and forth, tracking the lug nuts, and then standing back proudly and breathing hard. We were on top of the world!

Dale won more than he lost, but the wins were great fun and some of my best moments. For Barry, he was so proud he almost exploded each time he worked and played next to his brother Dale. Dale had become father as well to him since the divorce. That relationship was the one thing I envied of Barry.

Dale’s life seemed a sort of fairytale existence, or at least it seemed that way to a daydreaming young man looking at him from far off. He had what I longed to have at the time, a great drag racing car and a beautiful blonde wife who adored him.

I have not seen Barry in over 40 years, but I did see Dale a couple of times at the plant where he and I worked a few years ago. Both times it was standing in line at the cafeteria and our handshakes and conversations were all too brief. I doubt Dale knew just how much that time years ago meant to me and how much I admired him, but I could tell in his face that it also meant something special to him.

The Dale Henderson’s, Charlie Gouge’s, and Austin Roddy’s of our high school days were knights in shining metal to us admiring younger boys. Hearing them slip effortlessly through three or four gears, tweaking the sound of a 4-barrel carburetor as the speed and RPMs rose, while we stood perfectly still until they were out of hear shot, will be the last sounds of the sixties to fade. They were our heroes, and they gave us courage to face life’s yet unknowns.

AN INTERVIEW WITH MUSHY

Carol at SHRINK-WRAPED SCREAM insisted I allow her to interview me (don't we look good together). I doubt any of this is of any interest to many of you, but here it is in all candor anyway. I have considered my life to be an open book up to this point, but some of these questions were hard for me to answer.

1) Who was the first girl to break your heart, how did you meet, how long were you together, why did you break-up, and when did you last meet?

Mary Lee (last name withheld) was a pretty girl of sixteen or seventeen who had a rather “fast” reputation in high school. She had been dating a fellow two to three years older than she was when I came along. I did not know that she was desperate to get back together with him and chose me to make him jealous.

On a second date I decided to go for the gold that I thought was obtainable and was almost on third base, by the dashboard lights, when she suddenly said in an unexcited and very formal voice “What do you think you are doing? What do you think of me?” I shrank, literally, to just a thumb sized little boy standing on the floorboard of the car looking up at her totally stripped of any dignity and at a complete loss for words.

She went on to explain that she did not care for me in “that way” and that she still loved “whatever his name was!” I had fallen for her beauty and had gotten the wrong impressions of her feelings for me.

It was many years before I trusted another girl enough to let myself fall for her and especially to admit it to her.

Moving on swiftly to the second part of the question; how long have you known your wife, what pet names do you use for each other, how did you first meet, how many children do you have between you, and what (outside of the obvious) are your favourite (that’s Brit for favorite) pursuits together?

I have known Judy since our junior year in high school, some forty-four years now. She too was dating an older guy who had already graduated and I was too intimidated to ask her out. However, she and I used to talk endlessly at lunch behind the Carole Ann Drive-In almost every day during school, or so it seems today. We also ended up in groups in the same car going to dances and were just buddies, but deep inside I longed for her to like me. I’ve written about her Betty Davis eyes before, and I have yet to see any other eyes as captivating as those were in those days.

She and I met again years ago when we worked at the same plant in Oak Ridge. We began to call each other and talk for hours at night and I have told her many of my conquest secrets, not knowing that we would be married one day.

Then, at a fifteen-year reunion she and I met, danced, and ended up talking until the sun came up the next morning. We have been together ever since – this year makes 27! She has a daughter and I have a son from previous marriages.

We enjoy our grandchildren, sitting on the screened-porch listening to the geese and owls, walking on short hikes, cooking, and eating out. Often we will have several drinks on the porch and listen to MP3 music of old rock classics and blues in that idyllic buzz.

2) I know you served in Vietnam, how old were you when you joined the military, were you conscripted, how long did you serve, what rank were you, are you still in touch with any of your comrades, and how do you feel your experiences there have impacted on your life?

I was eighteen years old when I volunteered for the Air Force. I wanted to be a medic, and later to work in the medical field, but the Air Force saw fit to make me a Security Policeman (MP). I made “Buck Sergeant” or E-5 before my four-year hitch ended. I never wanted to be a cop after that…too many bad experiences I suppose. I am also not in contact with any former military friends.

Going to Vietnam made me more of an American and I detest anything that seems contrary to what that ideal is in my mind. It made me anxious to travel outside the United States. For years I was content to stay on my property and not leave. Slowly I have ventured out on cruises and other excursions, but I am overly conscious of my surroundings.

Once in Cozumel I had a “flash back”, one of many such incidents, and I was taken back by the mopeds zipping by with girls on the back fenders. All that was missing was the silk pajama like clothing and conical hats. The heat, humidity, and dirtiness of Saigon was all there.

I refuse to travel to New York for the same reasons. To me it is a foreign country and I will not go unless I’m armed!

3) I know you have had many adventures along the years, have you ever been arrested, if so, why, what is your biggest regret, what one action of yours, if any, altered the course of your life, and what embarrassing moment still has the power to make you cringe?

My biggest regret is my second marriage to a gal thirteen years younger than I was. She had just turned nineteen and I was her second marriage! She had a body of a gymnast, could do the splits as I remember, and I was in heat! She turned out to be warped by her family and her first husband, plus cocaine, bulimia, and bisexuality were all obstacles I could not overcome. I cut her loose in short order and have been embarrassed by it ever since.

I met her once over twenty years ago and she asked if we could have lunch and let her apologize for all her mistakes. I flatly said, “NO!” and that’s the last of that.

For years, for the purposes of security clearances, I was asked where she was and I told them that if they wanted to know that they could find her, but please don’t tell me where she it. I was surprised they accepted that, but they did and I worked twenty-nine years with a “secret” clearance!

4) You have a time machine and the power to alter one event in history. Which one do you choose, and why? What would you hope to achieve by this?

Somehow I would save “Camelot!” I loved John F. Kennedy, which in no way makes me a Democrat, and would throw myself over him if I could have.

I loved that time, I loved Jack, I loved Jackie, I love the kids, and I loved America as it was at that time. It will never be the same. We lost our innocence! We were thrown from the garden of Camelot forever!

John had begun a withdrawal of troops from Vietnam in ’63 and I think, had he survived, many, many lives would have been spared. I may be wrong, we’ll never know, but I just think the whole world would be different today. Who knows…I don’t want to argue with you!

5) Please elaborate on your personal spiritual and political beliefs, have they always been the same, if not, what happened to change them, if you were granted the say over what to do about the war in Iraq, what would you do, how would you achieve it, and what would you predict as the outcome?

Damn, this is a tall order and I have already overextended my stay here!

Let me just say that GOD is not a monster. He does not kill little children, he does not cause natural disasters, and he will not cast you into a burning lake of fire forever.

GOD is love…he is like a daddy (a good daddy) that loves you, protects you, and forgives you. How could a daddy be cruel?

Most organized religions paint GOD as waging a battle with Satan and could lose if WE don’t help HIM by saving souls. This is bullshit! God is all-powerful and could wipe Satan out with one spoken word IF he chose to do so.

When mankind fell for the line that we could be like God, knowing the difference between good and evil, and wanting to make our own decisions we were left on our own to discover that we cannot make it without him. Until mankind, as a whole, realizes this and calls on HIS name, we will continue to live in a world dominated by the “Prince of the Air” Satan.

Satan is the real monster in life and we need to recognize it.

The reward for “believing” is “ever lasting life!” In order to survive being cast into a burning hell, you have to be a given the power of everlasting life! You cannot get that reward unless you believe in Jesus (the son of God, who is God)! So it don’t make sense that you can be cast into a lake of fire and burn forever. IF you get cast into it – you will be consumed!

I believe that few will be lost(consumed)…Jesus came to save the world – not just a few pious churchgoers!

I ain’t even going to get into politics – suffice it to say WE NEED TO COME HOME, and stay home. We cannot win among people with so much history and so many factions!

I apologize for taking up so much of your time with this, and I hope I’ve offended you, or at least made you think!

Do YOU want to be interviewed? (Probably not, huh? BUT, if you do, leave a comment saying so and I’ll pass the job of interviewing on to someone else.)

Interview rules:

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”

2. I (someone) will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.

3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.

4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.

5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

IT’S ALIVE!

Well, sort of anyway! The Percocet and Benadryl are keeping me zonked out much of the time. I even almost went to sleep in physical therapy this morning…did not feel too much pain at all with the drugs.

I can tell already that I will be progressing much better after the second shoulder surgery. Swinging the arm straight out and up or from the side up does not hurt like before – there is only some uncomfortable tightness. However, going behind, or bending the arm backward of down as you would arm wrestling is a killer, and trying to reach the middle of my back wakes me right up!

I have three little stab wounds, at least two of which were the same holes that were made during the first surgery. Guess I will never be a shoulder model again!

Percocet does not make me etch as Hydrocodone did, but the very end of my nose is driving me crazy! The Benadryl helps, but it keeps me too sleepy, so today is probably the last time I will take it.

I was afraid I was going to have the prostatitis problem again. I started going to the bathroom every fifteen minutes, but as the block medicine wore off, so did the urgency and frequency. The anesthetist tried giving me a shot in the neck that controls the pain in the shoulder and arm to reduce the chances of another reaction, but it did not work. However, the bathroom trips slowed to normal as it wore off late last night. I was so thankful for that. That problem was what kept me from getting rest the first time.

I slept in this chair last night, but took a nice nap in my bed today, so guess I will try the bed tonight.

I really appreciate all the well wishes in the previous post – you guys are wonderful…better than most of my friends. Thanks so much!

I will be back among you soon with a regular post.

Love ya,
Mushy

A LAST SUPPER – OF SORTS!

It was family day at Bailey’s and the Wild Wings Café today! My brother and son accompanied me to a last outing before my surgery tomorrow. It was really great to have the three of us together again. We seem to have the same sense of humor and keep each other in stitches with word play and routines from old SNL routines! Nothing is sacred when we get started!

We began at Bailey’s Sports Grille and Bar with chips and dip, and finished off with thirty wings of various flavors. Again, I was disappointed and will never order wings there again. Wild Wings has ruined me! And so, we stopped there on the way home for one more round of beer and tea!

I tried to take a picture of the collection, when suddenly this crooked “bird” or what we used call the "gig finger" pops into the frame! “Damn, that’s a crooked finger,” I say!

“It points to the right like everything else,” he laughed.

“Ah, you dress right,” I tease? The waitress overhead and did not quite understand.

“Young’uns,” my brother said shaking his head.

Almost forgot about stopping at CompUSA! Us fools snapped our photo in front of a Mac and emailed it home! I also brought Mushy's up on the browser and walked away!

So, gang, I’ll see you in a few days, after the drugs wear off. Maybe I can get the doc to take a photo for me…a really gross one!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JULIANA-BUG-BUG!

It was grandkids’ day Sunday with Juliana turning a big 8 and the Chan-Man (Chandler) was cheering her on. The dogs and brats, followed by cake and ice cream were wonderful, and yes, I “backslid” again! Who cares?

We were missing one Dragon and one Knight, but a great time was had by all!

There is nothing like family to cheer you up.

WILD WINGS CAFÉ – KNOXVILLE, TENNESSE

My wife and I stopped by the newly opened Wild Wings Café located at Campbell Station Road in Knoxville Monday afternoon. I had just gotten the bad news about my shoulder, previously posted, and so hot wings and beer was in order!

There are so many ways you can order wings there (31 in fact) that it’s gets down right confusing! We ordered 25, five each with different marinates, and they were wonderful. We remember all the names except the fifth one, but our favorites were the Tennessee Fireball – 4 peppers hot (appropriately named for the state of location), Cheddar Jalapeño – 2 peppers hot, and a Glazed Honey with a kick!

Yes, we ate every last one!

This is my wife saying her prayer before eating…really, she is the hardest person I’ve ever photographed. Her eyes are like greased lightning and shut before the flash reaches her…every time, or so it seems!

SHOULDER SURGERY UPDATE – HE’S GOING BACK IN!

Yep, the shoulder is “frozen,” or what Dr. Brady technically calls “Adhesive Capsulitis” and he is going back in Tuesday the 26th!

The procedure was described as going back into two of the previous five holes, cutting the scare tissue away, and freeing the shoulder. He then manipulates the arm in all directions to ensure complete free range of mobility. The surgery will be at 9:30AM and I will be back in physical therapy at 4PM!

I sure hope I am still drugged! That has to hurt like a sombitch!

Basically, it was not because I was so long in getting to therapy (5 weeks) that caused the “freezing” but instead I am a fast healer! Good for some things and bad for others I suppose!
The severity of the rotator cuff repair I had, warranted the extended post-surgery wait before going to PT.

THE FAMILY CAR

Thank God dad traded the old ’55 Star Chief in before I really got into dating heavily my last year in high school. I needed a little more class in the sixties, or so I thought if I was to attract the prettiest girls. The truth, and I did not realize it until I was in my early twenties, is that personality is what really gets girls attentions. In retrospect, they would probably have dated me in the ’55 had I had the nerve to ask. This fact has been proved to me more than once since dating high school acquaintances since then. “Why did you never ask me out on a date?” they would ask.

Anyway, along came the ’64 Pontiac just at what I perceived to be the right time. It was long and wide and its 389 cu-in engine was powerful. Outside he was snow white and inside a beige vinyl trimmed in darker brown, with a backseat more than adequate for a teenage boy to work on his “night moves.”

I remember a friend once asking my dad, while the three of us had our head stuck under the hood admiring the 4-barrel carburetor, “When you going to let Mushy take this out on a date?”

He looked up with a wide grin, took a drag off his Camel, and embarrassed me by saying, “And let him get pecker tracks all over the backseat?”

“Daaad!” was all I could muster.

There were lots of dates, double dates mostly, but the best times were the nights with the guys. It was a time to proudly display your driving skills and show off what “Tonto” could do!

It was standard procedure to drive the car straight to the nearest filling station, pop off the hubcaps so you would look cool, turn the top of the breather upside so he could breathe and call out to you when you pressed hard on the accelerator, undo the speedometer cable, and let about five pounds of air out of the rear tires for traction!

The nights all began by circling The Beacon to see and to be seen. The fantasy was to pick up girls, but the truth is, we were just as happy to be seen by the guys.
I remember a friend’s dad also bought a ’64 Ford Galaxie that same year, he, and I always looked for each other, and before the night was over we usually ended it with a drag race on a straight stretch of HWY 61, the part that flattens out after Bitter Creek coming into Harriman.

We each usually had our entourage of three fellows eager to egg on any nonsense, especially since it did not involve their family car.
Barry and James always got out and hopped in the backseat for added traction, and his bunch did the same. At the shout of GO from Barry out the rear passenger side window, we were off!

Both cars tended to squat and burn the tires like crazy leaving a wiggly black line for about four feet before they each caught and lunged forward. Both 4-barrels were deeply inhaling air at such a rate that you imagined you could see the hoods being sucked inward! What a sound – nothing like that sound!

I think we won an even number of heats over those few months during our senior year, but I only remember the smiles and yelling coming from Barry and James. It was a wonderful feeling, a happy time, but it soon was dampened by worry about whether or not my dad would find out. He would have absolutely beat me within an inch of my life had he known.

He had to suspect, but he never once asked any questions, even after that Sunday morning when he noticed the speedometer was not working on the way home from church. He pecked on the plastic and calmly said, “Huh, strange, the speedometer isn’t working.”

My heart leaped into my throat and I did not know what to say or do. Finally I got out, “Really? I’ll check it when we get home.”

I coupled the cable back onto its proper place and nothing was ever said about it again. Surely, he must have known.

It is a shame you have to get to this age before realizing some of the simple little unspoken ways your dad said he loved you.