Before your mind starts running wild let me explain.
Here at the old folks home last night we passed out candy to trick o treaters. I had the pleasure of passing out the sweet delights to the most well mannered children.One little guy really touched my heart with his politeness by thanking me with a hug.
Me holding that bag of candy was like tempting an alcoholic with a bottle of spirits but not one piece of that candy did I let enter my mouth.
Maybe a piece of bubble yubble gum I did take maybe 2 pieces okay then it was 3.
Before days of high tech gizmos like PC's,tablets,cable and satellite TV days before round the clock news,movie and music there was a thing called radio.
I just pulled my little dilly of a radio out plugged in headphones and like a trip in a time machine there I was in the golden olden days.
Down on the AM band where I spent so much of my youthful nights being amazed by music all the way from a station in Chicago playing that rock n roll at night.
In between all that static and signals fading I heard Cassius Clay in those boxing matches,baseball games from my favorite team the Atlanta Crackers yes way before the Atlanta Braves came to town.On Sunday when Nascar was to redneck of a sport to show on TV it was always on the radio.
Talk shows were my favorite.At work I would listen to Jim White at KMOX in St Louis,Lester Rolof the preacher asking for money to save the souls of those heathen Indians as he called them telling women they were going to Hell if they cooked out of a can and were I first heard of a man named Jimmy Swaggert.
Since I was a little boy radio fascinated me so much that in 1976 after studying and learning Morse code and all that techno jumbo I took my amateur(ham)radio test at the FCC field office in Atlanta before Angelo Ditty the field engineer and received my ham radio call of WA4PFG which I still hold.
I cant wait till tonight so again with my little radio I can pull stations from far away places out of the static and fading.
Maybe I can find me an all night talk show to keep me company.
Several times I have woke up and my protective boots would be off.They are soft padded boots that help prevent getting blisters or rubbed spots on my feet.Being a diabetic and having feet problems can lead to bad things.
Several of the residents here have lost toes,feet and one has had both his legs amputated.
How the boots get off who knows.They have Velcro straps and I can't reach them so it's not me unstrapping and taking those boots off.
So this leaves only one answer.
I'm walking out of my boots.Maybe it's sleep walking and I just don't remember it.Maybe it's a mind over body thing.Maybe who knows what it is.
All my life people have seen me at places I ain't been doing things I ain't done.Always I laughed it off as people being mistaken.
Since being here at the old folks home people have seen me walking around the place.Someone even asked if I had a twin brother since they seen me walking out the front door once.
Really I have no idea what is going on.
So if you see me out about and I'm walking don't stop me just let me enjoy it.
Wife of a Baptist preacher but raised a Methodist,quiet,always sitting in her rocking chair,long dress,sweater on year round and that ever present apron.
She always said kids never bothered her but grown ups did.She had 13 kids,twins boys died at birth but the rest she raised mostly alone because Grandpa died at the age of 40.His name was John who I was named after.Lee Haynes my other Grandpa I was also named after so I'm John Lee.
Best I can remember she had 13 grand kids mostly girls it seemed.One Christmas Grandma bought us grand kids a present.Eagerly I opened the wrapped box.To my surprise it was pink and white hankies.Not exactly thrilling for a little boy.I'm sure if it had been the other way around with grand boys as the majority things would have been different.Cap pistols maybe would have been our gifts.
Every Sunday her kids and grand kids would be at her house for those big Sunday dinners.
She never cut her hair.Always worn in a bun.Once I watched as Grandma combed her hair and to my surprise it touched the floor.She never gave me a wooping but once she did get a curtain rod and threaten me but I knew it was a bluff all because I was playing in the big ditch behind Aunt Lema's but when Uncle Thomas snuck up and said lets go I did.
Well the story is getting long and it could be longer but I'll get to what this story is about.
Grandma had a saying.Being all I said a preachers wife,quiet and mild mannered that one little word,a four letter word she would utter always when mad upset or disagreeing with someone and that word was...
To my Facebook cousins you know that word but everyone else will just have to guess.
But I think people are just fooling themselves when they say someone has passed away.
Forgive me but they didn't pass they died.
You pass cars,you pass the 1st grade,you pass kidney stones,you pass inspection but when you take that final breath you are the word dead.
I can understand the reasoning for using the word passed instead of died.The word passed seems much more kinder,not as scary and doesn't sound as final as the word dead.
The Bible said the dead in Christ shall rise first from the grave on the return of Jesus not the passed in Christ.
Just like grass growing through concrete so does my hair.It grows places you don't want or need it.
I'm pretty sure one of my ancestors was a hairy caveman and all that hair might have served a purpose like keeping him warm during the ice age or acting as camouflage while hunting saber tooth tigers for that BBQ planned for the weekend.
I'm just thankful most women didn't get the hairy cavewoman gene.
Some new activity suggestions for the old folks home.
How about buying everyone motorized wheelchairs and watch us old fogies run wild up and down the halls playing bumper cars.
Nah somebody would get hurt.
How about this dig a big catfish pond outback and give each resident his/her own cane pole and a supply of red wigglers and you could charge guest for fishing and make some spend doodle.
Nah somebody would get hurt.
Well this idea would work for sure.Build a target practice range and give each resident their choice of weapons,pistol,rifle or for the adventours type hunting bows and maybe one day each week say Wednesday could be game day we could play the walking dead.
We the roomies are pretty sure that we will win either the big lottery or the Publishers Clearing House prize.
I can see it now that PCH prize patrol knocking on our door with that big check and a bouquet of roses for Paul.
You may ask what us old cooters are going to with our windfall?
This is our plan and a very good one it is.
First thing on our list is going to the Krystal.Sitting around a table the details of our good fortune will be sorted out.Agreed on so far is buying one of those super duper Greyhound bus size RV's.It will be equipped with everything imaginable thing like a George Jetson push button selectimatic food dispenser with all our favorite food,snacks and liquid refreshments.
Next on our list is the hiring our private duty Nurses and CNA's.Applications are being accepted at this time.Please inquire within at room 31 SW ask for Paul our human resource manger.
Other details will be worked out once on the road.
We the residents of room 31 SW do ask for a special request.
Please don't let Gary from the north wing know anything of our good fortune.He said that if we ever won big time he wants to drive the bus.Have mercy on us and the rest of the travelers out there.
Standing Rock,Alabama 4 years old living out were no other children lived I wanted a friend.
Every time Uncle Lavert who was a policeman in Roanoke came by I begged for a dog.
Sure enough one day he came by and with him was this small black and white dog my dog.
At first Lassie was scared shy and ran away.Yes I named him Lassie even though he was a male dog,you see I watched that TV series Lassie and it seemed like a fitting name.
After a few days Lassie came home,hungry,thirsty and friendly.
We hit it off quick.Lassie became my 4 legged shadow were I went Lassie went.
My protector.Once we where outside,back then parents just turned kids loose and they played all day outside without the worry of today's crazies,into a ditch covered by a small wooden bridge I fell.
Maybe I was knocked out for a bit laying on the jagged rocks,Daddy drove over the bridge but didn't hear my cries for help.I kid you not Lassie ran home and brought back my parents.
After we moved back to LaGrange living on Juniper Street I'm guessing I was 7 years old,sitting on a porch with other Juniper Street hooligans waiting on the police to come and get one of the kid's Daddy who was drunk two cops came walking up the steep steps parting us kids like Moses did the Red Sea Lassie took offense to it and growled at one of the cops and he reached for his belt with the pistol on it and I screamed you better not shoot my dog!
The cop quickly took his hand off the gun and proceeded to his crime fighting of the day hauling drunks out of houses.
Grandma Haynes would walk across the street and I swear Lassie would stand on his hind legs place his front paws on her arm as if guiding her to safety.
Lassie stayed with me for 6 years.We were living on Big Springs Road and he just didn't come home one day.
Two days in a row out of the corner of my eye I have seen it.It has been awhile since I've seen it and when I do it means someone is not long for this world.
It use to show up on my bedroom ceiling accompanied by the over powering smell of roses.
A light the size of a $.50 piece just floating around then poof with no warning it was gone.
Half way kidding I asked my TV watching comrade if he had seen that light on the wall and told him the meaning of it.His answer was "have you bumped your head?".
Maybe it is time for a cat scan or MRI of the old noggin but so far the light has never failed me yet.
As I look around wondering who's next who has the light come for is it that one no him oh no it's her maybe just maybe it's....... YOU!
Those unfortunate souls lost deep into their own little world.
I watched a little Lady today as she passed where I was sitting at least three times,her eyes just a blank stare like the way dead fish eyes look.Each trip by me she huffed and puffed worse tired from her wandering around and around in a circle.
Every time you turn on TV or look at an ad people are asking for money for this disease that disease or some cause.
Does the money make it to the ones it is intended for?
I give you a personal experience of this.
When my Mom was sick with dementia(Alzheimer's can't be determined till after the brain is dissected)so dementia is usually the diagnosis she received no help at all from any of the organizations that say they help.
My Aunt applied for Momma to receive meals on wheels,I didn't care for their help anyway because I did the cooking for her but she did not qualify for some reason or another.
I applied for Momma help from a state agency that was to help elderly people but was told there was a long waiting time for an opening.Ironically the agency called a few days after she had died saying they had an opening.
I will say that home health did come out for a few weeks to help with her bathing and a social worker said the Hospital pharmacy would take care of her medications which at the time the pharmacist at the drug store said Mom had one of the costliest drug bills she knew of.
Thank goodness Mom's retirement pay covered her drug bill and insurance she kept from work after she retired.
So I'm sorry that I get skeptical of these people and organizations who say (they are here to help).
That's me according to the preachers wife.So bad that her sons were not allowed to sit with me in church.
As in life there are usually two sides to every story.This one is no different.
East Newnan,Georgia is were all this takes place maybe I was 13 years old at the time.
This is the place I started questioning authority figures at this little Baptist church my family attended.
The preacher had two sons one was my age the other was older and I never had much to do with him.
What most Mother's believe about their sons and what they actually do can be different things.
This story is about a life lesson learned.
My friend the preacher's son and I were playing basketball and making a dunk he hit the rim and ended up with a pretty good gash on his nose.
Don't tell how this happened because my parents won't let me play basketball anymore he pleaded.
Sure fine okay with me what ever he told his parents I would agree to the story.
Days passed and we were at some church function and out of the blue the preacher's wife said I had lied.
Now before being called a liar Momma had asked me how this kid had gotten hurt and I told her the real story because either way it was no skin off my nose so to speak.
Seems his Mom had been talking with mine and the subject of the gash on her son's nose came up.There were two completely different tales about the incident mine and his and the preacher's wife refused to think her son was telling a fib.
So a lesson was learned never take up for someone who you think might hang you out to dry like my friend did me.
So I became know as the Bad Egg at church.
But you know being A Bad Egg with a clear conscious ain't a bad label after all.
Moral of the story...know the whole story before you judge someone!
Three years old,the year was 1955,Roanoke,Alabama,Halloween night.
The first Halloween I remember and thrilled and ready for trick or treating I was.
But as in life there was a problem.
Being a little country kid with no other children around my playmates were dogs,cats,cows,chickens,hogs and Ole Grey John Grandpa's plow mule.
I had this recurring problem.Not fond of shoes often I was bare footed.Those unpainted weather worn splintered porches were my enemy.More than once a splinter stuck in my foot and often they would get infected.I had to take those quarter size sulphur pills for my blood something wasn't quite right with it.
More than once off to Roanoke Hospital I was taken to get my foot scraped because of a cut that had become infected.This was the old Roanoke Hospital and I can still remember how it smelled of alcohol and ether.
Okay back to 1955,Halloween,I had my first Halloween costume,Casper the ghost,trick or treat bag ready for candy and as it would be an infected foot.
Off to the Hospital my folks took me.
A deal was made between us,if I would go peacefully trick or treating we would go afterwards.
No such luck.
When that Doctor held up that big huge shiny shot needle all deals were off.
Into one of best I don't want to do this tantrums I went and it took Daddy,the Doctor and a terrified Nurse to hold me down for that shot.
Of course they won I was outnumbered.
Long story short you probably guessed it,no trick or treating for me.
Still after 59 years I remember getting tricked on my first Halloween.
Just two of the dangers of living at the old folks home.
When placed into your wheelchair sometimes you need a little help finding that comfy spot.This usually takes two helpful Ladies who grab under your arms and the waist band of your pants and gently they pull you backwards till that comfortable spot is reached that spot where you can sit up straight that spot where you can wiggle around a bit.
That is the G spot the good comfortable spot.
But.
At times when searching for that G spot the good spot this will happen.
You will get a wedgie front and back wedgies no less.
And for those fortunate enough never to have suffered a wedgie let me tell you they are really uncomfortable down right painful if you get the bad configured front wedgie.
You can just use your imagination on that one.
Now there is a side effect of front and back wedgies the dreaded Steve Urkel look you know the waist band of your pants are just below your arm pits.
Yes friends there are many dangers living at the old folks home this is just an example of two of them.
From now on I'm going to be a Professor of Southern cuisine and translator of Southern sayings and words for the un informed and less fortunate(Yankees)people.
Let us begin with what would be good for our Sunday dinner(notice I said dinner not lunch there are 3 meals in a day,breakfast,dinner at noon and supper which should be no later than 5 pm).
For our meal if you ain't got the needed fixins copy this list down and get your shoes on and let's go to the Piggly Wiggly.
We need:
1.pound bag of dry big white butter beans(a bigger bag if you're expecting company).
2.bag of Martha White cornbread mix cornmeal.
3.buttermilk for cooking and drinking.
4.10 pound bag of Irish taters.
5.small can of lard will do.
6.small bag of Martha White self rising flour.
7.couple of onions.
8.box of salt.
9.a cold Double Cola cause it gonna get hot in the kitchen when we cooking.
10.last we need a can of cherries.
Now I have found out that really it don't matter if you soak dry beans or just wash em off and pour said beans into a boiling pot of water on top of the stove of course.
When those beans reach a boiling point go ahead turn them down to a medium heat,salt to taste,add left over bacon grease from breakfast and just let'em cook making sure they have water(scorched beans not good)leave em along now they will cook up nice all by them self in an hour or so.
Next for our desert.Take a cup of flour more if a thicker crust is wanted,cup of melted butter,cup of sugar,cup of sweet milk(that's whole milk for you Yankees)take that can of cherries and mix all ingredients well and pour into a greased up good size oven safe bowl and cook for 45 minutes or till brown on top at 375 degrees.This will be if you haven't guess cherry cobbler.
Now as our beans and cobbler cook peel them taters and slice and dice, get your big frying pan out,a black cast iron skillet that you inherited from your Dear departed Grandma always works best,get a couple big spoonfuls of that lard and careful now melt your lard in that skillet till bubbly hot and pour them taters in till they are fried crispy brown and delicious salted to your likin.
We are coming along right nicely with our dinner all that's left to do is fry up some cornbread fritters.Now if that word fritter confuses you really all it is is pancakes made with cornmeal,some call'em Johnny cakes or hoe cakes but really it's just fried cornbread.Take a big bowl and mix in some Martha White cornmeal mix,add your buttermilk,stir till the mixture slides out of the bowl like boiled okra into another black cast iron that was inherited from Granny(ok so you were the first to arrive at Grandma's after she departed this world and swiped all her good stuff)that skillet you grease up with a small amount of lard and sprinkle a little bit of that Martha White flour into the pan so our fritters won't stick,make into pancake size fritters,fry till a golden brown.
Shoot now our dinner should be done all it took was about a hour.
See having a first class Southern dinner wasn't hard at all.
Our butter beans should be soft swimming in a thick bean soup,taters slice diced fried ready to eat,a stack of fritters waiting on us,and that golden brown cheery cobbler for our desert.
If any of that cold Double Cola is left we can share it but if not a cold glass of that buttermilk will work.
Next time let's fix fried cabbage,corn beef hash and more fritters.
My heart filled with excitement just like when I was a kid.
A truck pulling a long trailer and on that trailer was fair rides,little kiddie cars.
A sure sign that the fair is in town.
October is fair time in Georgia.Moving from big towns to the smaller ones all around the state.Just like the hummingbirds in spring the fair returns each fall.
Sawdust covered the ground,the hum of motors powering the rides,that wonderful smell of candy apples,corn dogs french fries and hamburgers,cotton candy all the great fun good tasting food.
Rides,shows,wrestle a bear see the dancing Ladies from far away exotic lands.
For a few brief seconds my memory took me back back to being a kid at the fair.
To the powers that be or those who really care or someone who will just listen.
I have a beef,complaint,gripe or whatever you want to call it.
There are two things that give me pleasure here at the nursing home.
Hot showers every other day and food.
Food that I like and enjoy food like what I would cook if possible.
I'm sick and tired of beef tips on pasta,beef tips on rice with squishy mushrooms that make me gag,steamed carrots hid in my food,broccoli,cauliflower and that stuff called grilled zucchini,chicken legs baked,chicken breast baked,pork of some type every day,frozen vegtables from a bag and canned green beans.
Cook me some dry beans,butter beans,pintos,some peas,cook them on the top of the stove,slow and low till the bean soup is thick and good.Fry up some sliced diced taters and some cornbread fritters and have a big sweet onion on the side.
Food not artificial meat like chicken bacon and sausage.
Keep it real keep it good and add a little pleasure to an old man's life.
Have you noticed that women love that TV series Walking Dead were all it's about is shooting or using ice picks on those pesky undead zombies?
Never have I heard any man talk about the show or get excited when it comes on.Women even post on Facebook a count down to show time.
So I'm trying to analyze this and have come to this conclusion.
My fellow brethren,unwatchers of the Walking Dead,I think women are using this show to work out their aggression and anger toward husbands,boyfriends,that little red headed boy who broke their heart in the 1st grade or us the male population in general.
That is the only reasonable answer I can think of.
Just sitting around the big fireplace talking about the subject of us residents being put out on the streets due to government shutdowns,WW3,things beyond our control,invasion by those bad boy reptilian aliens so on and so on was the topic the other day.
Gary J my friend and fellow resident here at the OFH have a plan.
Like all good former Boy Scouts of the past we are prepared.
I have found a clean large pasteboard box suitable for human habitation and have it folded neatly flat and stored under my bed.
When and if that days comes Gary J in his power chair will lead the way pulling me in my wheelchair and off to find a suitable place to live we will go.
We have decided that living under an railroad bridge would be the most suitable place we could call our humble abode.Being a lot them close by is also a plus because Gary J is not the best power chair driver having a tendency to run over and into things not meant to be.So a railroad bridge close by would be ideal.
But like all things in life there are problems with this idea of living under an railroad bridge.
Gary J has said he will live in my pasteboard box with me because he is afraid of snakes,bugs and the fact he gets cold easy.
Sorry Gary J but that is just not going to happen my friend.
In their TV ads they proclaim their opponents are crooks,thieves,hooligans everything but the person who kidnapped the Lindbergh baby and shot your dog.
I was sleeping so good today,that drugged out deep sleep,rejuvenating type when someone spoke my name and in a jerk woke me up.
Dreaming about Daddy,seeing,talking with him once more.
It was peaceful and wish I could go back.
August 2003,Momma had died a few days earlier on July 23.I was tired,dead tired after years of sleepless nights.
Anyone who has been a caretaker for someone with dementia knows what I'm taking about.
I was Momma's promising to keep her home and I did.For seven years I watched her waste away.To her I wasn't her son,not John just that man as she called me.
Back to that August day.In my cool bedroom I layed down just for a short nap.
Dreaming about Momma and Daddy,trying to find their graves but no where could they be found.
Running through the graveyard searching almost at a panic.
I came upon an old rundown house and why I don't know inside I went.Dimly lit,I seen several men in suits motioning to me silently,smiling.
Slowly walking towards them what I seen terrified me.
One or two coffins I can't remember were in the dimly lit room.
Slowly they opened the top of one of the coffins,I knew what was inside,I didn't want to see.
In a panic I started running till I woke up.
On that hot outside August day I was freezing,shaking uncontrollably.
I had to walk out of the house and stand in warming sun till I stopped shaking.
2011 I was living in another state after leaving my home of 30 plus years.
The house moved to was right out of another century.Those tall 12 foot ceilings with lights that you could pull down from the ceiling,those tall old fashioned type windows,a long hall with bare wood floors seperated the rooms of the house.Each room had a fireplace.
I had heard a rumor that no one stayed at the house for very long.Story told was that a certain room in the house had a wall were writings would appear and if cleaned off they would reappear.I never witnessed that.
But other strange things I did hear never seen but heard.
Before moving in that house,before I even had the chance to enter the house I went nearly blind,my eyes would not focus,the awful feeling of nausea came over me,the closer we got to the house the sicker I got.I never made it inside,an ambulance was called and that first night I spent it in the hospital.
Maybe that was a warning of things to come.
Every afternoon right after supper it a room that was most likely a dinning room at one time you could smell what I thought was pipe smoke.Same time each afternoon it happened as if someone had finished their supper and relaxed by lighting up a pipe.
One night laying in bed still awake I heard what sounded like someone praying.Listening closer it wasn't praying heard but chanting like Indians would do and it sounded like several people doing it.
During daylight alone in the house I heard the back door open and the sound of a woman walking down the wooden floor of the hall wearing high heel shoes calling the name of someone named Clair.She passed right by the open door of the room I was in but never did I see her.
Once on a quiet day from the kitchen was heard a radio playing and people excitingly talking.It was an old broadcast of a baseball game from years ago.Again no one was seen.
The most frightening thing for me of all the strange things that went on in that house was one night again laying in bed awake I heard a woman crying softly it was a cry of mourning like a Mother would cry over her child if something had happened.
One night I heard my Momma who had passed on years before call my name once almost like she was warning me of something that was to happen.One time my name John was spoken and I'm 100% it was Momma's voice.
I don't think there is such a thing as ghost.But I do think that a house can soak up emotions of the residents who have lived there.Almost like a house is alive in a certain way.
Everything in this story is true and I have no explanation for any of it.
That boiled slimy green stuff that Momma always cooked in peas and I always dipped out.Now battered and fried okra is a different story.That I like and can eat like popcorn.But fry and batter anything I will most likely eat.
Now to what this story is about.
In Cartersville,Georgia a man was woke up by a low hovering Georgia State Patrol helicopter over his house and at the same time the police strapped down as he called it and a k 9 dog were knocking at his front door.
Seems the police were hunting pot plants.
Yes you guess it,the police mistaken his okra plants for pot plants.
More power to the cops,as a kid I spent many a hot August afternoon cutting okra off those vines,sweat rolling down my face stinging from touching that devil vegatable.
All I want to know is where the cops were when Momma said eat your peas and that green slimy okra when I was a kid.
Come to think of it maybe smoking okra is a better idea than dipping it out of your peas.
