THE JOE DAVIS RAILROAD COLLECTION

We all love to collect things, but how many of us collect things that weigh from less than an ounce to things over 30 tons at the same time?! Joe Davis, of Harriman, Tennessee, does and he has been collecting anything remotely "railroad" since he was five years old. Everything from old tickets, rails, train wheels, switching equipment, lanterns, crossing signs, depots and deport equipment, to full size authentic railroad cars!

Over the past 64 years you would expect Joe to have quite a few things, but to have is yard, his basement (electric models), and three or four outbuildings full would be the lest one would expect from a life long collector. However, even the two cabooses and boxcar sitting on the tracks in his front yard are packed full of railroad memorabilia! Joe wouldn't hazard a guess as to the value of his "heavy weight" collection, but at minimum it's cost him some fourteen hernia operations!

Included in the collection is the old "yard engine" from the "American Kraft Mills" paper plant that operated until 2000. Joe has also constructed a full-size depot next to his home that is fully operational, if it were sitting near the main line. He has a ticket agent and a lady and her son (life size manikins), waiting for the train in the waiting room. There are clocks, switching equipment, water fountains, phones, benches, calendars, photos of trains, and the ticket counter is complete down to the stamps and pencils required to operate.

The windows are from real depots around the country, the bars on the windows are real, the luggage and freight handlers and scales are real, and the specific location depot signs are real. I was thrilled to see the "Emory Gap" sign (an area of Harriman where I lived during my junior and senior years) smartly hanging on each end of the recreated depot.

You might have thought Joe would have made a career in railroad work, but he wanted to be home nights, so he worked in forestry and spent his off day time researching and collecting.

The Tennessee Central Railway Company operated the line and built the depots I was used to seeing in Roane County somewhere around 1922, but the company sold out in 1968 to Southern. It was during times of change that Joe came about a lot of his collection, like when the town of Oakdale decided to get rid of the old caboose that sat in its city park for years. The car was a boxcar-to-caboose-conversion and they were happy to strike a good deal with Joe. Being a conversion, it was super heavy, requiring two cranes to sit it in place on the tracks Joe built himself.

The cabooses and boxcar are all neatly coupled to the "yard engine" and all sit quietly on their permanent tracks along side authentic crossing signals and destination signs. Except for the tons of wheels, brakes, springs, signs, etc. stored beneath them, you would think they would just roll on down the line!

You will notice one contraption that sits directly behind the last caboose...the thing that looks like scaffolding sitting on wheels - what is it? You'd never guess, unless you were in the railroad business and ran lines with tunnels! It was specially constructed to run through the Roosevelt Mountain Tunnel, just up the Walden Ridge Mountain out of Rockwood, Tennessee, to break off the icicles that formed in the tunnel during winter!

You see, Joe doesn't care about specific railroad things; he cares about anything associated with the big trains. If it says railroad, train, or locomotive on it, or was ever on, or near, a railroad, he wants it and keeps it. As his sign says, "This is a museum, this junk is not for sale!" If he collected it...it stays...don't even ask!

Interestingly enough, he also collected the old depot signs that were indicative of the racially divided times, like "White & Colored" restroom signs, and one saying "Colored Intrastate Passengers' Waiting Room". "What if they were traveling 'interstate'", I wondered! I remember that era so well as a kid, but I was too young to really understand the significance of them at the time. Of course, I came to understand that the whole period of the 50s and 60s, and before, was a disgrace to our country.

I laid two large photos I found of a KKK rally, held in Sheffield, Alabama in 1924, out on some steps and photographed them. Amazingly they fit together quite well. Joe just saw the train and depot and wanted them for his "railroad" collection!

We'll have to go back one of these days and thumb through his photo collection. He did find his collection of 1901-1914 photos of the Waldensia Coal and Coke Company, and gave them to me to scan. I have already posted them on Flickr. However, he has many albums full of old Harriman/Roane County photos that I'd love to see. Maybe one day we'll get back for another visit.

I have only used a small portion of the 140 shots I took the day we visited, but many more are posted on my Flickr page. Look for the "Joe Davis Railroad Collection" set down the side of the main page, or scroll through all my latest additions until you find them.

No, Joe will not part with his life's collection, but I wonder what would happen if the City of Harriman built a nice building nearby in which he could properly display and visit his collection? Would he allow that? There are definitely enough artifacts in Joe's collection to make a wonderful "Joe Davis Railroad Museum" in Harriman. Such a display would bring folks from near and far to see and enjoy.

It should be seen...there's just too much authentic history there just to be seen by a few hundred - it should be seen by thousands! It would also mean that railroad buffs from all around might also donate items for display. The collection would all be safely kept there, under controlled temperature and humidity conditions, to be enjoyed perpetually. What a win for us all that would be!

Down In the BaseMENT - Part 2

I wrote "baseMENT" like that because I wanted to emphasize the "MENT" like my granddaughter Lily does. I don't know who taught her the word, but it's just so country the way she puts the accent on the last syllable, and I love it! She sounds like her Momma Judy!

Lily has been shown and warned about opening the door to our basement because it appears in the hall as just another bedroom door. When the door is opened it is dark and you can't see the steep steps below. We always carefully guide visitors to this door, turn on the downstairs lights, and then down the steps ahead of them so no one gets injured.

When Katie Bug, one of our other granddaughters, was about 11 or 12, she invited a friend to come with her to visit us. Before either of us could react, the little girl opened the door and walked out into the darkness, expecting a bedroom floor, and fell all the way to the basement!

UPDATE: Katie reminded me tonight that the girl was wearing a hula hoop when she fell! I also installed the lock I've been putting off today...now I can relax when kids are running the halls.

Judy lunged for the basement door, flipped the lights on, and was at the bottom in seconds, while Katie stood stunned at the top. I was in the kitchen, frozen to the floor, waiting to hear the worst, knowing she had either broken something or had been killed...seriously!

I was so relieved to hear Judy ask her if she was okay and the girl answer, although very embarrassed. She's alive, I said almost aloud, and thanked God for protecting her! It was truly a miracle and I still thank God for making it turn out well.

I've written posts about my baseMENT previously, once about repairing computers there, and again about some of the things I've made there. However, I thought I would do one about my junky work area, mostly so Bruno and Jeff can enlarge the shots and make funny comments about what I've collected!

Bruno, especially, loves workshops or "man holes", old engines, and anything he can tinker with and bring back to life! He knows how I peruse his shop photos, even the photos near his computer, for odd and interesting artifacts. He should have a ball with these.

I must explain the "Thunder Mule" license plate, because even he would not figure out that this hung on the front of all my Mustangs except for the '68 (just noticed there's no '89 shot in that linked post). It's a phrase my brother, Wade, came up with while looking at my '89. I found it to be very appropriate and so it stuck!

I might also say that I have no idea how those WMA signs got there...I think a game warden gave them to me!

As for the Superman work apron, it was originally made for me by a lovely co-worker when I worked at the Roane County NEWS, back in my newspaper advertising days. Something happened to the first one, and another lady (Diane Strahm), at another job, saw an old photo (see attached) of the apron and made me another.

If there are any other questions about things in these shots, please leave a comment.

I am very proud of the 8 foot table shown (it sits to the right of the tool bench). I made this out of 2X6s and 1" marine plywood. I would wager that it would easily support a car! It's very sturdy and makes a wonderful flat surface for special projects like gun cleaning, painting, gluing, building birdhouses, etc., and repairing computers!

The workshop is fairly functional with a drill press (not a good one), a grinding wheel, a vice, a table saw, a miter saw, a router station, and lots of tools, some of which were left to me in my dad's old tool box. Some have "TVA" stamped on them, but like me, he would have had the same thing to say, "I don't know how these got into my tool box...probably by some foreman somewhere as a reward for all my hard work!"

There are bins, jars, and sack full's of nuts and bolts, handed down from my dad, and nails. Everyone needs antique nuts and bolts! There are even some things there I don't even know the use of, or how they even got there, which makes standing there sometimes very interesting and rewarding.

The basement has gotten cluttered over the sixteen or so years we've lived here. There are tables, cabinets, an office desk and chairs that Judy got when her company closed its doors, the upper part of an entertainment center that had to be removed to make room for our 46" HD TV (It was better than buying a new outfit and very ingenious on my part, I must say!), a deer head, tree stand, exercise equipment, lawn tools and other implements of destruction, a gun safe, camping and hiking gear, and seasonal decorations that Judy handles, and, of course, my Hot Wheels® collection! You will remember this collection used to be in my bedroom!

Way back in the dark left corner (not shown in photo), there is a 2 yard by 9 yard room just made for an indoor firing range. I used yards because 9 yards is the perfect "combat" small arms range distance! I still want to put up some steel and sand at one end and blast away. However, I could never haul a 1" thick 6X9 foot steel sheet back into that corner with even three people helping me. Still, it's a great pipe dream that could still come true.

I know that someday all this junk has to be hauled away. It's sad to think about, because it's all a part of me, part of my dad, but there is no room for this in any one garage, basement, or kitchen tool drawer. If it isn't just dumped, it will have to be parceled off through some tedious "yard sale" to strangers.

The same thing happened when my dad passed...I got some, and Wade took some, but most of it was trashed. All our "someday dreams" die with us! Yeah, it's sad, but it's not unique to any of us.

So, the bottom line here was to give Bruno, and anyone else interested, something to do in his spare time - rummage through my basement! Have at it!

SECRETS OF THE LAKE WALDENSIA COKE OVENS

If you drop off the Westel Exit (338) on I-40 in Cumberland County, and travel north up Mr. Vernal Road, past the old Westel Powell School, until it intersects with Milestone Mountain Road, and then travel west on Milestone until you round a big curve and start down a long hill, you’ll be very close to some serious history. It is history evident of the “second great industrial revolution”!

At the very bottom of the hill, you will cross a modern-day concrete bridge over Mammy’s Creek. Hidden immediately to the right of the bridge is Lake Waldensia. Stop on the bridge and roll your windows down and listen, you should be able to hear the water as it falls over the old Lake Waldensia Dam, where a water wheel once powered a sawmill. The dam’s reservoir once provided all the water needed for washing the area’s mined coal.

This lake also served local residents as a respite from summer heat well into the 1980s.

If you pull to the left on the far side of the bridge, and park near the yellow gate, you will be about 50 yards from a double line of beehive coke ovens that were constructed around 1904.

These abandoned coke ovens, neglected for over 80 years, are covered in undergrowth and even large trees. It’s surprising to learn that they once represented a bustling and burgeoning industry – the coal and iron industry.

I first discovered this area back in the late 80s when I hunted deer near the then Bowater pine forest. The land was sold to the State of Tennessee in 2006.

I first thought these ovens were part of Civil War history, but I’ve since been educated. Nonetheless, it is a very mysterious looking place and it’s kind of creepy, especially if you are alone, to see nature slowly reclaiming it. Now, only dark ghostly mouths, ringed with red lips and mossy brick teeth give up the secrets of the place. It makes you think twice about stepping inside one of the earth’s dark open mouths for a better look at the white ringed vent openings in its roof!

In the latter part of the 19th century, the steel-making industry came to the secluded forests of the Cumberland Plateau and transformed it into a bustling development of progress.

The availability of coal in the Tennessee Mountains and the demand for steel were so great, that entrepreneurs from around the country ventured to the Plateau to make their fortunes in “black gold”.

As the steel industry continued to grow in the early 20^th century, fields of coke ovens and smelting factories began supplanting forests throughout the Plateau region.

One of those companies was the Waldensia Coal and Coke Company. The Waldensia Company purchased 8,000 acres of Cumberland County, Tennessee land.

The Waldensia Company under took in 1901 the effort to build a large complex to support their coal mining and coke making business. Among the supporting facilities were 80 cottages, a commissary, a hotel, offices, a school*, a post office, a train depot, many coke ovens, a large coal washing facility, and a railroad! It was all completed in 1904.

*I’m not sure if the little red school on Westel Road was this school or not, but it was built in 1901, burned in 1924, rebuilt and abandoned in 1955. Therefore, the time period is roughly the same.

A sawmill was also constructed to prepare the wood for their building needs, and most of the required logging was done on their own property.

The lake was created by the building of a dam on Mammy’s Creek, where it still stands today. Since the lake and dam are on private property today (2009), you have to view the lake, and falls that cascade over the dam wall, through a large growth of hemlocks. I was told by the owner that someone had recently fallen on the property and was currently suing him over a broken hip. Therefore, “private property” signs have been posted and a fence is being built around the beautiful lake.

I suppose this means that the cool waters of the lake and the shade of the hemlocks will never be freely available to the general public again. Such a shame…why do Americans have to sue so much?

But…more on the coke ovens pictured (click to enlarge).

Generally, the coke ovens found in the Cumberland region were used to convert the bituminous coal mined in the local mountains into industrial coke, a relatively clean-burning fuel used in the smelting of iron ore. In a process known as “coking,” coal was shoveled into beehive-shaped coke ovens insulated with a layer of dirt and then ignited.

After laborers sealed the doors with brick and mud, the coal was left burning under low-oxygen conditions for two or three days and could reach temperatures of nearly 2000°C (or 3600°F). In this process, the volatile parts of the coal were combusted and escaped as gases through a hole in the roof – what remained was the desired coke, which was almost pure carbon, and the by-product slag.

The property was sold to the Chicago-Tennessee Coal & Coke Company in 1908, which operated the facility until 1921. After the closure in 1921, Connellsville Coal & Coke Company bought the property in 1925 and continued to operate it until 1929.

The “Great Depression” brought about the end of the mines and ovens forever.

Now, it’s all but lost to time and privatization. There are certain areas of our country that should be considered “wilderness pockets”, protected and preserved for posterity.

More photos HERE.

DID YOU EVER EAT A MOUTHFUL OF DIRT?

I alluded to the fact that I ate dirt between the ages of 3 and 4, in a post titled "Learning To Face Life's Little Problems", but I'm not sure I ever detailed the compulsion I had for it. Quite frankly, I liked the taste of dirt!

It is sometimes said that you have to “eat a peck of dirt before you die”, and, because of my childhood vitamin and mineral deficiencies I’m probably well on my way out!

I think it all began with one innocent pinch of cigarette ashes…BAM…I was hooked on that ashy taste. However, it grew out of a lust for some mineral or vitamin, probably iron, that I was not getting in my normal diet. So, I experimented around the yard and everywhere I visited for a year or two around the turn of the 50’s decade.

Once while visiting us in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, my uncle once saw me pick up a chunk of common yard dirt and put it in my mouth. He quickly brushed it from of my hand, picked me up, and stood me in the midst of the freshly hoed dark soil of my dad’s garden, saying, “Here, get you some clean dirt son!”

He, like a lot of parents and people who study bacteria today, was not overly concerned about me eating dirt. A case in point is this video clip of Dr. Bonnie Bassler, a professor at Princeton University, who is a molecular biologist.

My Uncle Earl stood proudly by and watched me taste the rich black dirt. My mom, of course, was not quite as open minded and would always make me put it down and immediately wash my hands and try to wash my mouth out.

The basic truth is bacteria teach the body the specifics of creating the right kind of antibodies that protect our bodies throughout our lives. Think about it, with bacteria, not just crawling all over everything, but covering everything, we stay amazingly well.

Oh sure, we get the occasional cold, but without an immune system that has been educated by bacteria we probably wouldn’t have survived the first year of life. Just look at me…I survived all this time after eating cigarette ashes and dirt!

I can still remember the lime taste of the earth around Five Points, Tennessee where my grandfather raised cotton and corn. The soil was almost white, with tiny little bits of rust colored rocks in it. The soil is lime rich and I bet those rust bits were from iron, which is exactly what I needed. It made the best clumps from which I would scrap off a mouth full with my upper front teeth.

My mom took my little skinny body to the doctor and asked him how she could get me to eat more “real” food and stop eating dirt. His solution, which worked, was to give me a big brown bottle of some vitamin elixir containing a lot of iron.

I was soon eating more and growing toward the mass I am today, and never picked up another clod of dirt to eat again. Although, like I said, I remember its taste, with all its variety of tastes today.

I think about this every time I see my granddaughter Lily crawl under the table at a restaurant. We try to keep her hands clean and out of her mouth, but it’s inevitable that she will get some dirt into her mouth. I remind myself that her body is learning to produce the antibodies that will keep her alive and well for a long time.

I wish someone had told Howard Hughes this, and I hope Howie Mandel reads my blog! Dirt is actually good for us guys! However, you must remember that garden dirt is cleaner than yard dirt!

RETIREMENT MEANS HAVING MORE TIME TO MAKE DOCTOR APPOINTMENTS

Okay, so this has been a busy week for me and I'm very tired. I don't need another one like it for at least a couple of more weeks! That's probably about how long it will take for me to see about other issues discovered this week!

My week actually began last week when I had a preliminary procedure to size up my prostate problem. The actual corrective procedure began at 1PM Tuesday. The short acronym for the procedure is TUNA, which stands for "Transurethral Needle Ablation".

It is a procedure used to treat benign prostatic hypertrophy (BPH). It is performed by placing interstitial radio frequency (RF) needles through the urethra and into the lateral lobes of the prostate, causing heat-induced coagulation necrosis. The tissue is heated to 110°C at an RF power of 456 kHz for approximately 3 minutes per lesion. In my case there were 7 points that were heated.

The idea is the prostate tissue will die away, leaving a space that allows the urethra to expand into, therefore increasing urine flow.

So, that amounted to 4 injections into the sides the prostate, done rectally, and then 7 needle heating treatments into the prostate from inside the urethra (up the penis)! Then there was an antibiotic show in the butt for good measure!

The worst part of the whole deal was that it's necessary to wear a catheter for two days. I hated that more than anything.

One must disregard all modesty while undergoing the preliminary testing an measurement, the actual TUNA procedure, and even coming in 2 days later to have a nurse remove the catheter. There is no dignity left and you really don't care...you want to be wild and free again.

All this could have possibly been avoided had my body tolerated Flomax or Uroxatal, but those drugs dropped my blood pressure and cause all kind of gastric problems. Therefore, I endured all the above humiliation in order to lower my PSA numbers and to put an end to frequent urination issues.

All in all it's worth it...I'm already reaping the benefits for a younger prostate size.

So, that all ended on Thursday with the catheter removal.

Then on Friday, I got up early and at a light breakfast and too my normal medications for the day. That included an antibiotic to help heal the prostate and urethra from the procedure on Tuesday. That big pill set off a chain of events. I began to have heartburn between my male boob area. I got my allergy shot in Oak Ridge at 10, then came back to my care and took a sip of water. It didn't want to go down.

I have had this esophagus spam problem for almost 20 years so I knew what was happening. I began to hiccup, and so I took another small sip, all the while saliva began pouring down my throat. At the point of the heartburn, all this liquid began accumulating and moving up toward my windpipe. I told Judy to pull over and I through up that liquid...it's all clear, no stomach contents evident...ever.

Usually after that I can again sip water and it will go down. However, it did not go down, but began another round of liquid accumulation. We had to stop again about half a mile down the road.

I finally made it the 10 miles to my mom's and got out and ran to the edge of the yard.

Inside, I repeatedly tried water in small sips, but after about 10 episodes, I knew I needed help.

Judy took me to the Harriman emergency room since no of my normal doctors were in town. Luckily my friend Terry Bingham was on surgical duty that day.

I enter the emergency room at 2PM. By 3PM I was taken back to a room where I sat until about 4:30. By then I felt better and was in no pain.

Dr. Bingham came in around 5:30 and gave me the once over. He said I think we need to do a esophageal dilation on Monday.

He asked me to eat a cracker and down a cup of water. I thought I was okay, since I hadn't had to put my finger down my throat since 3. However, the cracker stuck and sips of water finally slowly moved it around something, probably the hiatal bulge that can be seen in the photo. I watched as I struggled and then turn to my nurse and said, "We'll go ahead and do it tonight!"I really appreciated it, knowing that he had been there working all day. However, he's a good guy and a good surgeon.

In the actual photo above you can see my esphogus opening. The Doc said it was only about the size of his little finger. After the balloon passed (photo on right) the opening is greatly increased. However, it's this area that needs to be repaired by surgery.

At about 8PM I got to the operating room, was sedated and back in a room by 9PM. Everyone enjoyed my withdrawal from the anesthesia and wanted to keep me over night to entertain them, but I was determined to go home.

I was born at home and have never spent a night in the hospital. That will remain my goal for as long as I can remain conscious!

I'm eating well now, but have to discuss a hiatal operation soon that may correct this life long problem. I think it will be a small price to pay.

I have long been embarrassed over the condition, especially when eating out...it's time to end it. If you have spent any time with me you have seen me either regurgitate or leave the table quickly and seek out the nearest restroom.

Further, I have now been advised that my EKG indicated an arrhythmia and SVTs...which means I may have had a small heart attack sometime in the past. Therefore, I need to have that attended too soon.

UPDATE: No heart problems were found, so I scheduled my hernia surgery for March 30th! Wish me well.

I've concluded that retirement is for ensuring you have plenty of time to make doctor appointments, travel, and see grand babies! More the former than anything else it seems.

With your prayers and thoughts, I'll make it until my next appointments!

REMEMBERING "EST'A BONO"

I recently found an old friend on Facebook, and I began combing through the “Mushy’s Moochings” archives looking for something I thought I had posted about our friends Steve and Jenny. However, I must have overlooked the great stories from my time in “The Land of Oz”! Maybe it’s because they hurt so much.

It was Jenny that I was fortunate to locate one night while doing searches for old friends and lost loves! Jenny and Steve are no longer together, but the time I spent with Steve, and later with Jenny after their marriage, were some of the best times of my life.

Steve and I went through a divorce at the same time back in the late 70s, and we supported each other through the sad withdrawal period that always occurs after such a traumatic event. We wrote poems/songs; very sad stuff, sometimes defiant things, and shared them with each other. At the time we worked in the same office, so we spent a lot of time swapping what we had written and laughing out loud at the rhymes and digs we made. It was good therapy and it took us all the way to the wedding alter again; each promising that we had learned our lessons and swearing we would get it right this time.

However, there were many nights and weekends before either of us got to that kind of happiness again. We spent the weekends listening to the music of the Allman Brothers, Black Oak Arkansas, Bob Seger, Foreigner, the Nuge, the Eagles, and he introduced me to Lynyrd Skynyrd. For that last item alone, I owe him much!

We were the original “party hardy” boys, running the dance scene in our open collared polyester shirts and gold chains! We could boogie with the best of’em and we heard disco music in our brains as we walked the halls and streets at work!

I lived in Harriman and Steve in Oliver Springs, which was separated by the blurriest ten miles of rolling blacktop in East Tennessee. The road got a little straighter every time I leaned into the steering wheel of my ’78 Trans Am, with “Smell That Smell” blaring from my tape deck. However, the stereo couldn’t quite overpower the headers and companion “cherry bombs”! The “Black Max” knew its way home – it must have, because I always made it when, God knows, I shouldn’t have!

Often times, I would wake up on Steve’s couch, so I just headed for work in the same clothes. Up until about noon, I’d swear I’d never do it again, but after lunch a “second wind” came over me and I was down for more craziness that night.

Steve and I spent quiet time too. We would sip our drink and discuss our feelings. We both hurt, and we both had family issues, but our common interests bonded us into a brotherly relationship.

We always shared our new “gals” with each other too. We would put on parties with loud music, lots of friends, more girls than guys, and we would sneak time to ask the other what they thought of the “new girl”! We even had a rating system, just like in the movie “Semi-Though”. One of my favorites was “never says no, even in a comma!”

If the girl didn’t measure up, we would be honest in our appraisal, and we would move on!

When we had dates, we would often call the other one at home and say something stupid like, “When things get going, throw the phone over in the bed,” or we would ask, “What are you doing…a little RALO?” (short for: rip a little off)

It was wonderful to have a friend with which you could share you innermost thoughts. I knew him and he knew me…we could even finish each other’s sentences. We were tight…best buds.

Steve met Jenny and immediately he was happier than I had seen him in a long time. She was younger than he was, but she understood the inside jokes, the music, and best of all, she understood Steve. She also understood our need for each other. I guess that’s why we did so many things together.

Needless to say, Jenny got my approval. She even went along with the silly phone calls I used to make to her. She worked at an insurance agency and I’d call, with Steve listening and about to bust a gut, and say, in my best hillbilly voice, “Uh, yeah, I gots some hogs, they’s real good’uns ya know, and I was wonderin’ if’en you all sold hog insurance?” She passed my test by turning it around on me!

I met Judy…or found her again after sixteen years! I fell for her “Betty Davis Eyes” all over again, and soon she was at the parties, and getting Steve’s blessing. I think she sealed the deal the night she walked bare-footed into the “Time Out Deli” in Oak Ridge! What a woman Steve and I remarked!

There is actually more to her than that, but that’s all I can say here!

One weekend, we got a suite in Pigeon Forge, complete with kitchen and Jacuzzi tub. The photo above was taken that weekend – me with the two girls and him with the two girls in bed. We also splashed water out of the tub more than once and had a ball! We could be ourselves – wild and free!

But something happened along the way, and several years ago I lost my best friend, and why I’m not sure. The best I can figure it was a big blow to Steve when he lost his job at Oak Ridge. After that, I saw him less and less, until one day he as much said, “I’ll call you when I want to see you again.”

To say that hurt me is an understatement. It hurts and haunts me to this day. I may never know…and frankly, I suppose it doesn’t really matter now. Steve and Jenny are no longer together, so the times could never be the same.

However, I’ve promised Jenny that Judy and I will meet her for breakfast or dinner one day soon. I’m going to try and not discuss the past or fish for the reasons why. I just want to sit and enjoy her company once more and remember "Est'a Bono" (a name he game his alter-ego). He can’t take away my memories of him.

UPDATE - Jenny has sent along her memories of our times too! Please read the comments!

HAPPY BLOGVERSARY TO ME!

Well, it's the 4th anniversary of my blogging career!

Many of you have been with me the entire way, and so 69,000 hits later I find myself still in the game.

Mostly I'm on my own today, since viewership has fallen off, but that's my fault. I seldom write like I used to. It's mostly about current events and family today, not of much interest to many, but it's really my purpose, so I'll continue whether I get readers or not. This is a family pilgrimage and record and thus it's serving its purpose!

HOWEVER, there is a new post coming in a couple of days that is worthy of being included in "The Laugh and Times of Mushy". I hope you enjoy the post. The true story is very important to me and I still hurt over the loss of my friend Steve.