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.
Here in my comfortable bed I'm reflecting on today's events.
Before sunrise thunder,lighting,rain and howling winds woke me up.My widow open the cool air felt good on my face.
Effortlessly sleep found me again and off I drifted into peaceful deep sleep.I woke up just in time for breakfast at 8 am.My appetite has dwindled since having that cold/virus or whatever it was a few weeks ago.
Counting down 3 minutes till fall starts.
Grits and a fried egg I ate saving a biscuit and bacon for later.
10:30 pm now it's officially fall in Georgia.
I dozed off and on till lunch.It was a bust consisting of a pork chop,rice and steamed carrots.The rice I ate.
Up and about around 3 pm out to the TV where sheesh yes you guessed it Walker Texas Ranger was on.Same ole same ole.
Looking at the menu an order for 2 grilled sandwiches and tomato soup was made but supper comes around and no luck on my plate was chicken pot pie and grilled zucini.
Now get this.If the rumor is true this chicken pot pie was questioned by state investigators a year or so ago saying it had to be changed from the dry crusted vegetables just spooned out onto your plate.It was changed into a recognizable version of chicken pot pie till it's ugly face reappeared today at supper.
Maybe this food is why I have no appetite.It's not the type of food I like or grew up on.
Oh how I crave real food.
Butter beans cooked on the stove,sliced fried potatoes and some real cornbread.
The use of getting up out of this bed everyday.Each day like the one before and tomorrow will be the same.
The only thing separating each day from the next is whats on the food menu.I don't go by the days of the week anymore a calendar is not needed instead I start each day by checking the food menu.
Why get up out of my comfortable bed in my comfortable room out of my comfortable environment just to sit in a wheelchair in front of a TV watching the same boring thing over and over each day.
Some bossy ole Lady said hand me the TV remote,never mind what anyone else was watching please thank you may I.
I pointed to the remote and said get it.She replied"I'm in a wheelchair hand it to me"duh 99% of the people here are in wheelchairs.
Just another start to another beautiful day in the neighborhood.
Things blew up after supper with people losing what sanity they have left with their childish doings fussing and growling.
Help me help me someone down the hall is hollering,personal alarms going off when they try getting out of their wheelchairs,my new roomie is walking around without his pants,least he is not wearing them backwards like earlier.
I just go with the flo mind my own business and pray I survive without to much ill effect!
Laugh if you may but it's good as any explanation I've heard.
The Oreo cookie fairly I think is in cahoots with Ufo's,Unicorns,Bigfoot and all those other things everyone knows is real but just don't have good physical evidence to back up their claim.
Just like we all know Jimmy Hoffa is buried at Yankee Stadium 10 foot down in a 55 gallon can.He's there but we just can't find him.
Everyone has seen flying saucers yeah even you but your just to chicken to admit it.
Ghost and hauntings,Now I know for a fact I'm not normal(thank goodness)but never ever have I had the pleasure of meeting one.Least I don't remember.
The Mafia,doesn't exists but it's there.
So back to what all this is about.
The Oreo cookie fairy payed another late night visit.Left was a 4 pack of cookies.Surely the fairy sprinkles me with pixie dust so I blank out or they are sneaky and wait till I start snoring loudly before making an entrance.
That's what the warden in Cool Hand Luke told the prisoners.
I've faced that predicament myself a few times.Can't be understood.Am I speaking a foreign tongue?When I get excited I do tend to stutter or get tongue tied.That could explain alot.
If I'm not careful slipping into my natural dialect is real easy.That would be Southern backwoods never seen the sun shine redneck watch this a redneck's last words language.
Honestly most folks can understand me ok.Sometimes those people"God Help'em and show them the evil of their ways"of Yankee persuasion have no idea what in the world I'm trying to say.
I just get this blank stare with the word huh emerging from their vocal cords.Trying to converse with the younger generation is another challenge.Anyone younger than 40 years old don't even know what time of the day to eat.
To these children"God Help'em"trying to explain what supper is could be a losing battle.It's breakfast,dinner and supper not breakfast,lunch and dinner.Poor things get so confused at times they don't even know if it's breakfast or lunch so they made up this word called brunch.
I know,I'm blessed,being brought up speaking proper English.
So with all that said think I'll sit in my cheer by the winder or lay my head on a piller cause all this typing has made my fanger ache.
First on my mind this morning is those dog coward hideous ISIS and their brutal beheading of American journalist.In my opinion they are the scum of the Earth and may a just as equal brutal death come to them.
Now for St Louis.This black/white hate has risen it's ugly racist head again.I think this Country will never be free.
Locally 12 year old is suspected of armed robbery.Was this kid raised by jackals out in the wilderness or did he really have parents?Obviously not caring parents.
We still have hope but I think it will be the second coming of my Lord Jesus Christ that will be the cure.
Yesterday it was noticed,a feeling of static electricity,the hair on my arms bristled up,that feeling something big was about to explode amongst us.
From my watch point I could see restlessness in residents.That blank stare and shuffling of their feet as they wander endlessly.
A feeling of sadness draped over me as I watched a Lady with her walker pulling her suit case behind as she hunted for an exit saying she wanted to go home.
Lord Jesus just take me on before I get in that shape.
I feared no evil as I rolled into a room full of Georgia/Alabama football fans yesterday.
Outnumbered, proudly I wore my Auburn Tiger blue and orange T shirt.
I was feed generously with dip and chips and Sprite cola.
Like ole Wild Bill Hickok I chose a table with my back against the wall close to an exit just in case things got out of control when Auburn did their thang.
They even tried to be convert me to an Alabama football fan giving me an Alabama writing tablet.
A good time was had and in closing I leave you with these words...
Here at the OFH a long hall and locking doors separate the North side and the South side of the building.
Those locking swinging doors are like the Mason/Dixion Line.
The South side where I humbly reside is affectionately called the Po side,the Dirty South or as I call it the Projects.
We Be Po is our motto and it's written with a Sharpie pen on a used piece of cardboard and hangs at the entrance of the south side.
Maybe you could call it a you have been warned enter at own risk sign.
Just because it tends to get a little rowdy over here at times there is no reason to shun us.We be just like the North side folks ...well that's not exactly true.
One day I took a trip over to the rich North side just to see if the things my friend Gary J. had told me were true.He told me over there on the snack cart they got chocolate milk,V8 vegetable juice,yogurt and other things we Po side folks never even thought of.
Oh how quiet it was over there on the North side of the building.Little ole ladies sitting around a table discussing politics or reading poems aloud to each other or something I don't know.Being the friendly talky type I said hello Ladies nice day we're having.
Well I know at times I can look unkempt and maybe a little scary but I always wear my Old Spice high endurance deodorant so I won't offend but those little ole Ladies stared and hissed and whispered to each other saying he one of "THEM".
Even my good friend Gary J.shunned me and quickly ducked into his room pretending I was unknown to him as I frantically raised my good arm waving in a gesture of friendliness calling his name loudly.
Yes Dear ones I JohnLee learned a valuable lesson that day.
Stay with people who understand you and think as you do and never try to hob nob with them rich North side folks again.
Over here in the projects is were I belong,were little ole gray headed Ladies cruise around in their chrome and black chariots looking for another victim to throw ice cold water on,someone to fight and fuss with,were there is a constant roar of rowdiness and it don't even have to be a full moon.
Home is were the heart is I have heard.
For me that is the Po side,the Dirty South,the Projects.
Walker is always perfect.Walker is always right.Walker is an expert of everything from flying jet planes to riding man killer bulls.All the women he meets fall in love with Walker cause well he is Walker.
My roomie loves this TV show.He must believe all the hype that Walker is all that.
Bullets bounce off Walker's Dodge truck.Walker takes one shot for one kill with his big ole pistol while the bad guys using automatic Uzis and such spraying him with bullets always miss.
Walker is half Indian and when the purpose suits him goes back in time to be guided by his long dead ancestors.
Other times he has flash backs/dreams or what ever it depends on what Walker is putting in his pipe smoking that day he becomes his alter ego Hays Cooper Texas Ranger.Old timey way back in the day super hero without a cape.
Walker really doesn't need a gun.He can woop a room full of bad guys with his Kung Fu stuff.Pop Blam Slam just like Batman and his sidekick Boy Wonder Robin.Walker has his own sidekick an ex Dallas Cowboy football player named Trivette and everyone knows how I feel about football.
Many times I scream out loud at the TV when Walker is surrounded by a dozen hooligans with 2x4's and tire irons just shoot'em Walker don't Kung Fu'em to death.Maybe Walker is a closet sadist and just likes breaking arms to hear that crunch.
Yes friends as we where sitting around the TV yesterday Walker Texas Ranger came on.
A mystery has struck the old folks home..everyone woke up to the surprise of Oreo cookies on their table...thank you Oreo cookie fairy... please come back soon!
The OFH was getting that way yesterday.Tempers short.Old gray haired Ladies fussing.
The endless wandering by some residents.Rolling rolling rolling in their black and chrome chariots.I get tired just watching them on the move every waking moment.
A resident told of a dream he had comparing this place to the song by the Eagles, Hotel California.Like the song said you can check out anytime you like but you can never leave.
Don't you just hate it when people start talking or posting how in love they are with their wife,hubby,girlfriend/boyfriend, mistress or sugar daddy?
When ever I see hear this it makes me wonder.
Is it really that good of a relationship they are having or they trying to convince them self it good and ok or is it just a show and they hope everyone believes they have the perfect relationship.
They need to tell their who ever how much they really love them,keep it to them self.
Seems there is a ribbon for every cause imaginable.
White,pink purple ribbons for all things such as cancer,aids,Alzheimer's on and on.
What color would my ribbon be?
I want a camo colored ribbon to symbolized my redneckness.Us rednecks are people also and we do suffer.
We suffer when the old 4 wheel drive Ford pickup gives up the ghost.We rednecks suffer when deer hunting season is over.Old Bubba the hound gets so old he can't hunt no more we suffer and I want a ribbon so the world knows my suffering.Momma stopped baking biscuits I suffer maybe my ribbon in this case would be made from a White Lily flower sack.I need a ribbon of some sort because I have to eat chicken bacon and turkey sausage.By the way will someone tell me how they take a piece of chicken and make it look like bacon.Maybe somethings are better left unknown.
Yes we rednecks do suffer.So the next time you see one of us just walk up to'em give them a big hug and a say a few kind words like I feel your pain here's your ribbon.
Well the fire alarm has just went off here at the OFH.
Nothing is smelled burning maybe another false alarm.Probably some little old gray haired lady who is bored pull the switch just for devilment.
The fire truck from the station up the road just came in non emergency and left just as quick so that is good news.The fire station is maybe a mile away and when someone here at the OFH is in dire straits they are the first to arrive.
We have a new fire alarm system here and a new sprinkler system.The bell rings and a strobe light blinks on off I guess to warn the hearing impaired.
Not being able to walk fire is a fear of mine.Push come to shove I would roll out of bed and crawl if possible in case of fire.
Ok the coast is clear.I will go back to YouTube and listen to a 8 hour loop of a fan while I watch a lighting storm out to the west.
Maybe that combo will result in peaceful deep sleep.
Fried curly fries today with a BBQ sandwich and get this ,squash I think ,casserole.
The BBQ was so stacked with meat I took half the bun off and ate it like an open face sandwich with a fork.
Now those curly fries.
More please I asked and a bowl of hot fries I had.
Really just a big boy plate of fries would have pleased me just fine.
If you have read this blog before you know I'm a tater junkie.My favorite being crinkle cut fries fried crisp and brown doused with salt and ketchup on the side.
But these taters of today held their own with crinkle cuts.
They have been written on the bottom of a Krystal burger box and safely stored in a secure place at TFH.
Please follow these instructions.
When the time comes and I'm sure it will and I lose what sanity that is left please place me in a comfy rocking chair by the door or window.Occasionally stop by and give me a little push so my rocking will keep rocking.Wipe the drool from my mouth when needed.Please make sure I'm fed Krystal burgers and fries at least 3 times a week with a diet Dr Pepper.And most important keep hitting the replay button on my cassette player every 8 minutes so Stranglehold by Ted Nuget plays 24/7.
Some call it the Old Hag syndrome others sleep paralysis.It is a feeling of not being able to move or breathe.Like someone(the old hag)sitting on your chest.Some see visions or feel an intruder is in the room to harm them when going through these attacks for lack of another word.I see nothing myself only blackness.
It happens at the moment you fall asleep or wake up your half way between the two.
If you can just move a finger or wiggle a toe it can be stopped.
When I was a little kid it was almost a nightly thing for me too have these attacks.Also when I was a kid ,OBE's (out of body)where common for me,it's don't laugh,the feeling of leaving your body and floating around the room.
Thank God these attacks are not common for me now.
Unlike my childhood friends wraslin didn't do anything for me.I never watched it,the names of the wrasslers were unknow to me,I didn't walk around putting folks in wraslin holds and all that other stuff that goes on with wraslin.
Think I went to wraslin matches twice in my life at National Guard Armories.Once when somebody named Davy Crockett was at the armory in Roanoke,Alabama. I was three years old so most likely it wasn't my choice of entertainment at the time.Another time I went voluntarily when I was a teen just to get out of the house.
So I'm not a wraslin fan,period.
Racin is a different story.
That is where me and Daddy spent our weekends together at.It started at age thirteen ,me and Daddy traveling the roads of Georgia on Friday,Saturday and Sunday to the dirt tracks.
I have almost lost interest in racin since Daddy died but will watch one on TV.
But shut my mouth I'm going to tell you a secret.
Football,high school,college and pro sucks.It bores me to the point of I rather go outside and just watch grass grow.
Folks down here will hurt you bad if you dis their team.I mean they will use all them wraslin holds they learn as a kid on you.
The OFH put up a new hummingbird feeder outside my window the other day.The old feeder had a leak so it was no good.
A hummingbird found it and has been feeding constantly every hour it seems.
Strange thing happened.
This morn I seen it hovering at my window looking in.I thought well this little creature is curious about me and in it's own way is giving thanks for the new feeder.
Then I figured out what it was doing.
On my window sill there is a orange butterfly solar powered flower that rocks back and forth.Guess the bird thought it was another source of food.
I was talking with another resident yesterday about family.
Or in the case of some of us the lack of.
I have none really,just in name only.
I know people are busy,got their own life to live and really I'm fine with it if they never come around.
Maybe I'm still holding a grudge about the way most of Momma's and Daddy's kin deserted her when she was suffering that dreaded disease of dementia.
Seven years she suffered and I was the only one there for her.You know many nights sleep was only a word.It sure would have been nice for a helping hand at times,maybe just to sit with her so I could catch a few minutes of sleep not worrying she would wonder off.
A few minutes just to relax would have been precious to me.
Don't think I'm mad cause I'm not.
Seen the same thing happen with my Grandma.People desert you when the going gets rough.
Smile it's ok.
Like my Daddy always said(if they can live with it he could live without it).
So stop your kitchen table judging and gossip you know nothing of me.
I had some where my humble abode was.Both sides and front and back.
Those on the sides were cat haters.They stooped so low as to put traps out to catch them.One's little grandson spilled the beans by saying him and granny were catching cats and taking them to the cat jail.
Lovely people cat haters.Like most folks they can't see the error of their ways.Cat hater neighbor number one had her dog chained to a tree right at my bedroom window.Poor thing(the dog not neighbor howled constantly at night) .But cat hating neighbor number one did her own howling when Saturday night rolled around with her outside parties.
That she beast was responsible for the death of kittens by cat snatching their Momma cat and they starved to death.
Cat hating neighbor number two was a work of humanity herself.I will just leave it there.You might get the idea I am still mad at my cat hating neighbor.Every time I would see her from my incognito observation post the Devil would take over my mild mannered disposition and I couldn't fight the urge to meow a few times as she twisted her neck around like that little girl in the movie The Excorist looking for another victim of her cat hating ways.
Yes cat hating neighbors of LaGrange, as my Aunt Pauline would say(I love everyone but some I just don't like).
