The Back Fence: SouthernStories.com

"Come Uppance"

2011-05-03T18:22:00.000-07:00

Since I get most of my prescription drugs from the Veterans' Administration, about every six months I'm summoned to the local VA hospital to get my oil checked. I was going through this procedure a couple of weeks ago and was being examined by a nurse practicioner. She has seen me several times and is a very competent, pleasant young lady. After the blood pressure measurement, listening to the chest, etc. and etc., she asked me if I had any complaints. I told her that I get frustrated because I seem to not have the stamina I ought to have. I said, "An example of this is that yesterday I cranked up a chain saw, cut down three cedar trees, dragged them to my little lake and anchored them down using concrete blocks to create gathering places for the fish. It only took about an hour and a half, and I was completely worn out after that little effort."

She looked me straight in the eye and said, "Mr. Ritchie, you're seventy-four years old. I wish you could sit in my chair and see people come through here who are ten, maybe twenty years younger than you who can't even hold a chain saw, much less run one. Count your blessings."

In short, what she was telling me was QUIT WHINING. She was right, of course. So, I've made a new resolution, and it ain't even the New Year yet. I'm gonna QUIT WHINING. And count my blessings.

Confidence!

2011-02-05T06:19:00.000-08:00

I saw an email from one of my friends yesterday that caused me to laugh out loud. Seems that a kindergarten teacher had asked her class of five year olds to draw a picture. She noticed one little girl attacking her drawing with much enthusiasm, head down and scribbling furiously. The teacher asked the little girl what she was drawing. "I'm drawing a picture of God", the little girl answered. "But honey", the teacher said, "nobody knows what God looks like."
The little girl responded, "They will in a minute."
Would that I had that kind of confidence.

New Orleans

2011-01-31T14:24:00.000-08:00

My bride of 49 years and I took a little weekend trip to New Orleans last week. Our doctor son, who lives in Virginia, attended a medical conference there, and we took advantage of his close proximity to visit a couple of days with him. New Orleans is on the rebound after Katrina and we had a great time enjoying the typical (if there is such a thing as typical) New Orleans cuisine like steaming seafood gumbo and crisp po'boys, topped off by a breakfast at Brennan's. I hadn't been to Brennan's for decades and had nearly forgotten what a great place that is. I had Oysters Benedict and the oysters were undoubtedly the best ones I've ever eaten. If you get down to that neck of the woods, a trip to Brennan's, sampling their Oysters Benedict, will give you plenty of conversation material with your friends. Be prepared, however to carry a full wallet or a credit card with some room in it. We topped off the trip with a visit to the World War II Museum. What an incredible place! We spent only about three hours there before they ran us out at closing time. We're going back at the first opportunity we have, and I'd like to spend at least a full day (preferably two days) absorbing the information given there. What a treat! New Orleans is back!

On the Mend

2010-12-15T13:52:00.000-08:00

Deer season is here and that condition prods me to think about something positive concerning my circumstances. I finally have something in common with a whitetail buck in the rut. Unfortunately it has nothing to do with testosterone levels. My neck is swelled up like I'm ready to lock horns with the bull of the woods. That's what happens, I'm told, when a surgeon has to ream out a carotid artery. And a surgeon reamed out one of mine last week. First time I ever paid somebody to cut my throat. I'm on the mend now, and it appears that I should appear to be normal by Christmas (appearances, as they say, are sometimes deceptive). The artery is cleaned out, according to the surgeon and all things being equal, it should take another seventy years or so to clog it up again. Plenty of time left to worry about that. I'll deal with it then.

You ever notice how some folks absolutely wallow in pleasure while describing the sordid details of an operation they just had? Well, I'm gonna spare you that agony. I WILL tell you about one little incident that occurred just before the one-way knife fight began.

I'd been placed on a gurney getting ready to go up to the operating room. My wife and daughter accompanied me and the nurse who was pushing the gurney onto an elevator, which made for a pretty tight condition. Well, the crowded situation was exacerbated when three other women wedged themselves onto the elevator. Now, here I am, lying on a gurney, wondering if the highly fashionable hospital gown has been tied down the back so that I might retain some secrets relating to my anatomy, surrounded by six women, three of whom have no idea what my condition is and no doubt wondering about it but restraining themselves from asking. I looked each of the three strangers in the eye, fluttered the back of my hand across my forehead, and with a look that I hoped expressed concern, said, "I hope y'all have all been vaccinated against leprosy." Their looks of curiosity quickly turned to other expressions and they got off at the next floor. I don't know what their conversation turned to when the door closed. My daughter turned to me with a look of exasperation and said, "Daddy, we just can't take you ANYWHERE". I really believe I'll be back to normal in a couple of weeks, ...normal, in the opinion of a lot of folks who know me, being a relative term.

Comments Concerning a Culinary Cripple

2010-11-23T07:38:00.000-08:00

As I stated in my first book, Shocco Tales: Southern Fried Sagas, "I'm no cook... When I start cooking, even the flies leave the kitchen...any food ingredient I touch fire or boiling water to will generally turn into something that would give a buzzard colic". I'm living proof that the ability to create wonderful foodstuffs is not hereditary. My mama had to be at least the second best cook in the world (probably second only to your mama). She's long since departed this world, but I wouldn't be at all surprised if the angels up there aren't at this moment fighting over her biscuits. She didn't rely much on printed recipes, but if asked for her recipe for anything, she usually responded with measurements like "a dash of this" or " a pinch of that", and one of her specialties was cornbread. I've never been able to find a combination of ingredients that would produce her cornbread masterpiece.

What brought all this contemplation about culinary arts was a recipe I ran across the other day for cornbread that might come close to hers, and the recipe sounded a lot like hers might be. I'll share it with you....

"Get out your grandmother's iron skillet. Put in Crisco the size of a large hen egg. Place it in a 400 degree oven while you make the badder (not batter). Dump the bills and credit card receipts out of the large bowl on top of the refrigerator. Optional: rinse it out. Put in two large fists of yellow, coarse corn meal; one small fist of flour (only sift it for "company"); a thumb of baking powder; a suggestion of salt; a big ole fresh egg and about 3/4 of a Coke can of buttermilk. DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT PUTTING SUGAR IN CORNBREAD. (Unless your company is from New York.) Mix it up. By now the Crisco is sizzling. Stir it in fast and get the badder back in the skillet while it is still real hot. Put the skillet back in the oven until the top is nice and tan. When you flip it out on a plate, the undersice will be dark brown and crisp. O Lord, that is good with thick sorghum syrup."

Makes me hungry just thinking about it...as long as I leave the actual cooking to somebody else.

Goose Recipe

2010-11-16T11:30:00.000-08:00

One of the nice things about living out here in the country is that we have our share of critters running all around the place. Deer, foxes, quail, doves, 'coons and such and the other morning I saw a coyote rambling on our backyard pond levee. I wasn't particularly pleased to see the coyote because coyotes are, from what I've heard, a serious threat to the quail population, and quail are one of my favorite species of neighbors.

We also have a generous population of Canada geese. A few days ago I decided to bag one and see what a Canada goose tastes like. Never done that before. Since I had no idea how to cook one, I asked my neighbor George Thomas if he had a recipe for goose. He's cooked everything from beaver tail to rattlesnake to snapping turtle and I figured he could give me some pointers about goose. I'll paraphrase his recipe for Canada goose:

Skin the goose, don't pluck it. Shave off all the fat. Cut out both sides of the breast so that you have two boneless chunks of meat. Marinate the meat for at least a day in your favorite marinade. Sprinkle the meat with salt and a generous dusting of black pepper. Put the meat on a couple of shingles of cedar wood, much the same as you would a slab of salmon. Run it in an oven at about 300 degrees and bake until tender. Then take the whole shebang out, throw away the goose meat and eat the board. "Ain't no way to cook a Canada goose so that it's fit to eat", he says. I'm still gonna try. There's gotta be a way.

Character

2010-11-11T16:13:00.000-08:00

The word "character" is an interesting word. Lots of meanings. There's the high sounding definition like "moral excellence and firmness", i.e. a man of character. Then there's the "graphic symbol used in writing or printing", i.e. letters of the alphabet, numbers, etc. There's a lot of other meanings including "in accord with a person's usual qualities or traits". That's the kind of meaning I think of when I think of my neighbor James Earl, who lives a couple of miles down the road (a close neighbor, by Shocco, Mississippi standards, and I describe some of his antics in my latest book). James Earl is a CHARACTER. In fact, he would be a character in a roomfull of characters. I never know what he'll come up with next. He can make the most outlandish statements, statements that you absolutely know can't be true, and then have to concede when the proof is presented. Like the conversation we had one time about the famous people he'd actually met, shaken hands with, photographed with. I questioned the claims. Then he started pulling out photographs... James Earl and President Ford, James Earl and President Reagan (and Nancy Reagan), James Earl and John Wayne, James Earl and Jimmy Stewart, and on and on. Not fake photographs...real...before any computerized fakes were available.

Well, the other day he dropped by my house. He'd been having some health problems and I inquired about his condition. He said, "I'm doing fine except for my eyes." He'd had cataract surgery some time back and the result wasn't perfect. Double vision has been a problem since the operation. He told me about a conversation he'd had with his doctor the day before our visit. Said he'd told the doctor that the double vision problem had to be corrected. Now. Without fail. The doctor inquired about the sudden urgency. James Earl told him, "Doc, yesterday I picked up a snake to kill a stick!" The doctor didn't question the claim. Neither would I. He'd most likely come up with the snake to prove the avowal. I wouldn't bet against it. I'd just hope the snake wouldn't be dangerous.

Mixed Blessings

2010-11-05T12:26:00.000-07:00

Greetings from the recently vacated sickbed!! I think I'm actually gonna live. A pretty vicious cold has had me wondering if I really wanted to rejoin the world of the living, what with all the coughing, sneezing, headaches, sweats, etc., but it looks like it ain't quite my time to go yet. I wondered about it yesterday, however. On top of the cold thing, I made a misstep in the carport while taking out the garbage and pulled a muscle just under my right buttock. Embarrassing, having to walk around holding my backside while attempting to put minimum strain on the place with each step, and dreading the next sneeze or coughing fit. Then, just when I figured nothing else could happen, I was opening the mail and sliced a finger open on an ENVELOPE. Go figure. Maybe I got all of the bad stuff done yesterday. I hope.

However, imprisonment (in the bed for the most part) for the past couple of days gave me the opportunity to read a book written by a lady I've known since we were in the first grade, living in Brookhaven, Mississippi. I hesitate to say an "old friend", since that would also categorize me, but I'll say a "long time friend". That ought to camouflage about sixty-six or sixty-seven years. The lady's name is Jimmie Meese Moomaw (it's pronounced just like it's spelled). The book is SOUTHERN FRIED CHILD , and it's a hoot. I called her up this morning and chatted about it with her. We'll have the book up on our SouthernStories.com website soon, and I'm delighted about that. You'll like it if you enjoy nostalgia and humor written with an entertaining and honest attitude. So, as I continue to discover, you can find something good in almost everything. Even in a bout with a dadblamed miserable cold.

Pigeon Forge

2010-10-29T07:40:00.000-07:00

I've been wrestling with whether to describe this post because I'm inclined to only talk about positive things. We attended the wedding of our foster son (the professional wrestler) a couple of weeks ago. It was held at Pigeon Forge, Tennessee because that's in the vicinity of the bride's parents' residence. The wedding was beautiful. The accommodations (River Stone) was beautiful. I ain't ever going back voluntarily.

Now before I explain that last statement, you need to understand that I live out in the country. I'm used to open spaces and lots of room, quiet when I want to be quiet, and setting my own pace. I'm not a recluse, but places with crowds of people are not my favorite places to be (unless it's in the middle of the stadium at Ole Miss football games). There were crowds of people at Pigeon Forge. I'm talking about crowds of CROWDS of people! Bumper-to-bumper cars everywhere, lines of folks waiting to get into restaurants, gift shops, tattoo parlors, and whatever else folks go to Pigeon Forge to do or see. Our route to get to Pigeon Forge took us through Chatanooga to Knoxville. When we exited the interstate east of Knoxville toward Pigeon Forge, the last 20 or 30 miles took longer to navigate than from Chatanooga to Knoxville. Bumper-to-bumper-to-bumper getting there, bumper-to-bumper-to bumper while there, and bumper-to-bumper-to-bumper getting out. Been there, done that, got the T-shirt. It was good to get back to Shocco, Mississippi.

My Bad

2010-10-22T16:16:00.000-07:00

Okay, OKAY, OKAY!! I got the message. I've been chastised, criticized and marginalized, and I promise to do better. The other day, somebody whom I thought was a good friend (I still do) busted me pretty good (verbally, thank Goodness) and accused me of committing one of the seven deadly sins. While I had been admonished MORE GENTLY about the same thing by others lately, I'd never been accused of an act that fit into the seven deadly sins category, so it was a learning experience for me. He and the others were getting on my case about neglecting to post on this blog for so long, and the particular transgression of the aforementioned dreaded seven with which he indicted me was SLOTHFULNESS. I didn't remember that particular failing as a member of the frightful list, but I looked it up, and he's RIGHT! Right there along with GLUTTONY, which, of course, I could never be accused of, even at Thanksgiving. This extra weight I carry around is the result of heredity. That's my story, and I'm sticking with it.
So, I'm gonna do better. I just got back from a trip to marry off my professional wrestler foster son and I'll probably let you in on a few incidents that occurred on that journey. So much for the slothfulness. I'm gonna reform and repent. Ain't gonna be guilty of that anymore. Promise. I'm gonna try and post at least twice a week, whether they read it or not. No more slothfulness. No sir. Lots of activities from now on. And right now, one of those activities is to mix something tall and dark brown, occupy my easy chair and watch the ball game. But I vow to y'all that this little diversion will be temporary. I ain't promising anything about the gluttony.

Worrisome question

2010-07-21T11:04:00.000-07:00

I had a little accident last Saturday. I was doing some little chore like unloading the dishwasher or looking for a pot or something and raised up suddenly to collide my bald head with the corner of an open cabinet door. Opened a medium-sized gash in my hairless scalp and I stuck a bandaid on it and forgot about it. Next morning I was sitting in the usual pew of the Lone Pine Baptist Church when one of the little kids walked by, noticed the bandaid and asked me what had happened. I told him that my brain had expanded with knowledge to the extent that it had opened a little hole to let some of the pressure off and that I was just closing it for a little while. He looked at me with an expression comprised of wonderment and suspicion and wandered back to where his mama was sitting. I watched him relate his new found information to her, and by reading his lips, I interpreted his statement to be, "Mr. Ritchie's brains are leaking out". She put a finger to her lips and then mouthed, "I know, honey. We need to pray for him". Makes me a little nervous wondering how many more of the good members of the congregation share her concern. Matter of fact, sometimes (more and more often) I share her concern myself.

Goat Roping

2010-05-20T14:12:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I think the older I get, the dumber things I do. Got to thinking the other day that the old van my bride had been driving for the past six or seven years might need replacing. I'd begun to worry that the mounting number of miles on the old auto would be the harbinger of unsafe conditions, looming expensive repairs, and possible dangers to the usual driver should she be stranded if the tired old fliver decided to huff and puff and shut down on its own to rest for a while.

I announced to her that we should go shopping for a new van. She'd never consider driving a regular sedan any more because, as an artist, gardner, grandchildren hauler, and collector of massive things, her old van had become an indispensable tool for her. We talked about it for a few days and I convinced her that a new vehicle would be a wise investment. (I use the word "investment" when I need an excuse to make a purchase.)

Well, we sojurned down to one of the local car dealers and were delighted to find a van right off the bat that would fit her every need. Bought it. Wrote a check. Done deal. Called the insurance company, took the old van off the policy and added the new one. Went down to the tax collector's office and turned in the old tag and bought one for the new van. Quick action. All in one day. Next day, she decided she really didn't like the new one all that much. Liked the old one better. I launched off into a massive dissertation emphasizing all the reasons we ditched the old van and "invested" in the new one. Safer. More reliable. More features. Shinier.

Still liked the old one better. She said the new one felt more like a "man's car" because it felt bigger and heavier. I told her that I had problems describing a van as a 'man's car'. Told her a lot of things that I can't even remember now, but seemed like really good arguments at the time.

Still liked the old one better. Told her that we'd already bought the new one. Already bought the new tag. The checks had cleared. We owned it.

Still liked the old one better. I told her that I didn't want to trust the old one to make a trip that we were planning to make in a week or two. Long trip. Thousand miles or so, one way. We NEEDED the new one.

Still liked the old one better.

Went back to the dealer and bought the old one back. The dealer was sympathetic and sold the old one back to me for what he allowed in the trade. Plus $125 for paperwork charges or sales tax or something. Now we own two vans. I drive the 'man's car'. And am discovering daily that I haven't the slightest idea about how to operate a myriad of devices contained in the 'man's car'. DVD screens, built-in GPS, hard disk recorder for CDs, 'juke box' display for multiple CD's, buttons everywhere (hard buttons and 'soft buttons'), thingamajigs and doo-dads, etc. Automatic doors, tailgate, sunroof, and Lord knows what else. The user's manual is about the thickness of an unabridged copy of "War and Peace". I'm sure that there are a bevy of dancing girls in there somewhere. I just haven't discovered how to find them yet.

BUT, we just made our first trip in the 'man's car'. Comfortable. No problems. (Except for a few mistakes in loading a CD or two, but I'll figure that out sometime in the next month or so.)

She still likes the old one better.

Catch-A-Dream

2010-05-08T09:34:00.000-07:00

I mentioned in an earlier blog that I'd been invited to speak at the Catch-A-Dream dinner preceeding their bass tournament last weekend. Well, the event was a great success and the folks seemed to enjoy the story I told. We met a bunch of good people and I learned some things about bass fishing tournaments. The main thing I learned is how little I know about bass fishing compared to those fishermen (and fisherwomen). They've got it down to an art form.

One of the men I met there was Bruce Brady, Jr. He's a minister, and son of the late Bruce Brady, Sr. of Brookhaven, Mississippi. Bruce Sr. was a writer for some of the larger outdoor magazines, a world traveler and hunter/fisherman, author of a book, very talented sculptor, one of the finest Christian men I've known and a friend of mine. I was delighted to meet Bruce, Jr.

Dr. Marty Brunson, who heads up the Catch-A-Dream organization introduced me and did a pretty good job of roasting me in the intro. It was a fun event for a very good cause. They sponsor hunting and fishing trips for children with life-threatening diseases. You can get information about C-A-D at www.catchadream.org, and I encourage you to do so.

Thanks be...

2010-05-03T12:25:00.000-07:00

What with the BP oil spill, tornadoes, flooding, bomb scare in New York and who knows what else, the news this past couple of weeks has been dismal at the least and in many cases tragic to those who've suffered losses. Our hearts, prayers and support should continue to go out to those who have lost loved ones, livelihoods and property. It's a tough time for them, and I ache for them.

There are, however, bright spots that occur even in the midst of calamities, and we had one of those. Our son is a doctor in the U.S. Navy and the father of six of our eleven grandchildren. He was deployed to Afghanistan with the very first contingency of Marines who went over there several years ago, and returned after his deployment was completed. Last September, he was again deployed to Afghanistan to serve with several other American Navy medical personnel in a British hospital. His specialty is emergency medicine, so he's had a lot of activity in these last months. The Navy medical corps is responsible for the medical needs of both the Navy and the Marine Corps, and since he's responsible for attending to the emergency needs of the wounded, he's been busy. We received an email from him in the final days of last December informing us that since he'd arrived around the first of September, he'd not had a single day off. I can't imagine the pressure.

Well, he arrived back home last Friday night! His latest deployment is done and to say that we are THANKFUL would be a gross understatement. THANKS BE, THANKS BE, THANKS BE...!

Yeah!!

2010-04-30T18:37:00.000-07:00

Sometimes things just work out right, don't they? This afternoon I drove my bride of 49 years to our back pasture to peruse the project in process being performed by our next door neighbor. He's plowing up about 5 or 6 acres there in advance of planting milo in preparation of having a dove hunt there this fall. Looked to us like he'd finished the plowing and we headed the truck back to the house. Since our little lake is on the way back, and since I had my fishing stuff in the back of the pickup, I decided to stop for a few minutes and see if the bass were biting. First cast linked me up with a pretty good fish and I landed it. I estimated the bass to weigh about 5 pounds. She said, "Nah. Maybe three or four." Well, I bristled up a little and emphatically defended my estimate. She wasn't convinced. So I suggested that she take the truck and hustle the three or four hundred yards to the house and get my fish scale, which she did. All the while she was gone, I was praying...you guys know what I mean. "Please let this fish be heavier'n it looks."

She returned with the scale, I hoisted the bass on it and the digital read....5.0! I smirked, eased the bass back into the water, wiggled it a little to get it started again, it scooted off, and no more words were spoken. Justice does prevail on occasion. I'd have high fived somebody if I could have. But she wasn't in the mood.

Talent everywhere!!

2010-04-21T09:59:00.000-07:00

Several months ago, I had needed the services of a welder to fashion an automatic feeder for my lake to feed the fish. I found a welding shop and introduced myself to the owner. It was a one-man operation and the welder looked the part. Dirty overalls, torn shirt, grimy cap sitting sort of sideways, two or three day growth of beard, etc. When I told him who I was, he said, "I just finished reading one of your books. Liked it, too. If you have a minute, I'd like you to look at some stuff I've done." My first reaction was to say to myself, "Wonder what kind of stuff? Metal sculpture? Homemade knives? What?"

We ambled to the back of the shop, dodging through chain lifts, metal forges, tools lying everywhere scattered among all sorts of scrap steel, buckets of bolts, stacks of pipe, iron bars and everything you'd expect to find in a welding shop. The office was a jumble of discarded old typewriters, yellowed newspapers, stacks of magazines, old filing cabinets and piles of assorted paperwork that looked like they hadn't been disturbed for years. He opened one of the filing cabinets and retrieved a six inch stack of ruled yellow pages containing, handwritten in pencil....POETRY!! Lots of poetry. Now, I'm no poet, and rarely even look at poetry, so I don't have the credentials to be much of a poetry critic. But, in my humble opinion, most of the stuff I read there was really good! He also writes science fiction stories.

I only spent about two hours more than I had planned on being there looking at his work and enjoying his stimulating conversation. He was much more informed than I on history, current events, politics, literature and 'most everything else we talked about. I'm ashamed to say that I was surprised. I wonder how many other wonderful things I've missed out on by my stupid assumptions based on appearance and surroundings. I resolve to correct that shortcoming!

He also made for me a fish feeder much improved over the plans I had for one.

Made it one more year!

2010-04-12T07:54:00.000-07:00

Well, in old Indian terms, yours truly has experienced 73 springs today. Birthday greetings are flying in on cards, emails, telephone calls and personal visits from children and grandchildren and lots of other good folks. At times like this, I'm delighted and frankly amazed at the size of the loop I've thrown in this lifetime, and the circle of friends and acquaintances continues to expand. What blessings God has showered on me!!

My bride of 49 years and I had dinner last night with some valued friends and four super people whom I'd not met before. It hit me again this morning, as it has sporadically in the past (and more frequently lately) what a fortunate man I am to be associated with such a number of extraordinary, good folks, some of whom I'll not see again until I join them across the next great divide, and the rest to enjoy during the remainder of this lifetime. Now to plan activities and goals to accomplish on the way to number 74. I look forward to that. Thanks everybody!!

Spring has sprung -- finally!

2010-04-06T07:02:00.000-07:00

Hooray for the Easter season!! The weather is beautiful in Shocco and the bass are biting! The purple martins are building nests and chattering, the flowers are beginning to take over the landscape, the dogwood and redbud trees are adding their contributions to the splendor of the spring spectacle, and did I mention that the bass are biting?

After the church service last Sunday, I decided to amble over to our little lake and cast a few times, just to see if I remembered how to do it. Seems like a decade since I'd caught a fish. I wound up staying for a couple of hours, since the bass were so accommodating. Caught about a dozen and was reminded that I'm a blessed man. The past couple of months have been mostly filled with the job of tearing down about a mile of old barbed wire fence on Ritchie's Roost in Shocco during wet, cold weather replete with sharp winds and muddy conditions, old wire grown up with forty years' worth of vines, briars and trees, and in general conditions that caused me to frequently use language my bride wouldn't have liked to hear. Finally finished that task last week and all of a sudden, with the advent of real Spring, happy conditions are exploding! The fence is down, the old wire has been disposed of, the old fenceposts are stored, the weather is wonderful, the flowers and birds and trees are mood changing, and the bass are biting. God is in His Heaven. Wow!!

Well, dadgummit!

2010-03-05T17:59:00.000-08:00

We finally get a break in this miserable cold weather we've had in Mississippi for months, the sun is shining, the temperature is in the 60s, and guess who has come down with a dadblamed cold. Ain't no justice.

Also was planning to attend the Mississippi Writers' Roundtable at Delta State University tomorrow, and I was really looking forward to that. I thought about going in spite of this bug I have, but those folks would have taken one look at me sneezing, hacking and grumbling and would have ridden me out of town on a rail before I had a chance to share the malady with them.

We had another jam session last night at the Union Street Bookstore, and I managed to get over there for enough time to listen to some good music and to read one of my stories for them, but then ran out of gas. One postive result of leaving early, however, was that I got to see the Ole Miss basketball Rebels beat LSU on the tube. To bed now, and pray that I'll live 'til tomorrow.

Busier'n a wine bottle at the bus station

2010-02-28T17:32:00.000-08:00

Man! I've been hauling it for the past couple of weeks. We had a great time last week with some really gifted folks who got together at the little Union Street Books store in Canton, MS. I never cease to be amazed by the talents displayed by "ordinary" people. Example: there's a lawyer in town who used to come out to my place years ago to fish in my little lake. (He usually brought an ample supply of beer with him, and it was almost always gone when he left.) He showed up at the book store event and absolutely blew me away when he cranked up his electric guitar and entertained the crowd with some really wonderful songs he had written. I didn't even know that he could play the guitar, much less write good music. Then the owner of the little music store in town decided to dive in and entertain us with some of his original works. He only plays the guitar, harmonica and sings, all on a professional level. The crowd loved it and so did I! I was asked to tell a little story and it worked out pretty well. The event was conducted in a loose, comfortable fashion, and it was a really fun event. We're gonna do it again this Thursday night and I'm looking forward to it. No telling who will show up.

I've been invited to be the after dinner speaker at the Catch-A-Dream bass tournament on May 1 in Jackson. Catch-A-Dream is headed up by Dr. Marty Brunson at Mississippi State University and is dedicated to providing fishing and hunting trips for children with life threatening diseases. If you're not familiar with the organization, you need to check it out at http://www.catchadream.org/. The bass tournament was started years ago as the Have-A-Heart tournament and is one of the best known tournaments held on the Barnett Reservoir in the Jackson, MS area. I'm looking forward to speaking to that bunch. Should be fun.

Just returned from a trip with the grandmother of my 11 grandchildren to the Natchez Literary and Cinema Celebration in Natchez, MS. Talk about a wonderful time! I was raised in Natchez and I always love to return. I can get within 20 miles of that place and I start to grin! We missed the first day of the event, but got there the first night in time to attend the Natchez Little Theatre presentation of "The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas", and it was a hoot. I didn't realize until I talked with Layne Taylor, the Artistic and Executive Director of the Natchez Little Theatre, that they have over 23 thousand patrons from all over the world view their plays annually. It's one of America's most active non-profit, volunteer community theatres, and they do a superb job.

The next two days were jam packed with speakers, films and storytellers. I saw old friends (including the former Miss Mississippi/Miss America Lynda Lee Mead (now Shea) and she's still pretty enough to stop traffic) and the stories flew. The speakers and presenters had displays of their books, CDs, etc., including the new Sam Haskell book, "Promises I Made My Mother", which Sam presented. If you're not familar with him, you need to google him. His accomplishments are too many to list here. The trip was fantastic, and I won't miss another one. Spent too danged much money buying books though. It's one of my many failings!

I'll log off now and do something exotic like unload the dishwasher for my bride. I need the points. One last thing...let me know at southernstories@bellsouth.net if you need a speaker for an event. I love to do that.

Senior Group Luncheon Guest Speaker

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A couple of weeks ago I spoke to a luncheon meeting of St. Dominic New Directions for Over 55. This is a group of seniors who get together monthly under the sponsorship of St. Dominic Hospital in Jackson, MS. There were about eighty folks in attendance in spite of stormy conditions and we had a blast. As part of the talk, I read a couple of stories from my books, Shocco Tales: Southern Fried Sagas and Shocco Tales: Shavin's Under A Southern Shadetree. I always enjoy speaking to senior groups (my vintage), but this bunch was special. You who are speakers know that you can tell pretty quickly after you begin your talk whether you're connecting with an audience. Well, we connected, and it was fun. I've spoken to a lot of audiences and I can't remember one that loved to laugh as much as this one did. If you're over 55 and live in the Jackson area, you might be interested in checking out this group. The Membership Representative is Dianne Guthrie (dguthrie@stdom.com) and she's a winner.

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Well, after a long hiatus I've decided to ressurect this blog. It took the help of a couple of very capable folks to start the process of educating me in the fine art of on-line communicating to begin this process, and I'm excited about it. Excited, not only because an old geezer like me might still be capable of learning something new, but excited about introducing y'all to a bunch of talented writers and artists you may not have met yet. Stay tuned.

Welcome

2007-12-13T13:40:00.001-08:00

Let's Go!