"THE BOYS OF FALL"

CLOVIS WILDCATS

"FUN DAYS, NEVER TO BE RECAPTURED, BUT TO BE FOREVER REMEMBERED"

   Bob Stebbins, CHS, '51

Football memories from Richard Drake, Bob Stebbins and Bobby Joe Snipes:

*********************************************************************************

Richard:

The weather in North Texas over the past two weeks has been unreal.  It has been straight out of the 1950's from Clovis, New Mexico.

Temperature has been in the low ninety's and not a cloud in the sky.  The color is so blue that it almost hurts your eyes because you can't stop looking at it. 

Thinking back to Clovis High School, it would be time to start pre-season football practice - -  a rough two weeks.

Coach Harman did not take it easy on anyone.  Unlike today, there were no water breaks during practice. 

One  concession was one practice in the early morning and the second in late afternoon or early morning.

The first morning he had the team in shorts, T-shirts and helmets but that hardly lasted for the session.  Everyone was eager so he said "Let's go put on the armor".

Everyone reported to the first workout in pretty decent condition after working all summer for Morris Stagner's dad's construction company feeding sand and gravel by hand into a concrete mixer.

Some team mates work on farms during the summer.

WE LOVED IT.  IT WAS FOOTBALL.

The mind can take you back to your youth in all aspects.  While remembering those good old days, I actually started to get "Butter flies" in my stomach.  In adulthood that happened only when I had to make a formal presentation to a group of Two and Three Star Generals.

This past month Marcia and I turned 80 years old.  I remember her and Betty in their short cheer leaders uniforms. A COUPLE OF BABES.

We do have a lot of good memories about our friends and the things we did.

The best of all was getting a rumbly stomach.

Bob and Morris,   I am sure you can recall all of this.

Richard
***************************************************************

Bob Snipes:

Richard...a lot of memories from Wildcat Stadium and all the team.  And, don't forget Brian Brock. Fun days, never to be recaptured, but to be forever remembered.  Bob
****************************************************************

Richard:  Bob,  just remembered a funny one.  Coach Harmon preached keeping your legs pumping when blocking an opponent  He used a willow tree switch to go after our calves if he was not pleased with our efforts.  One day he yelled "Stagner.  Go get me a switch".  there were no nearby trees so Morris came back with a short 2 x 4.  The look on his face showed that he was really considering using it.  I know because his wrath was aimed at me.  Fortunately, he did not use it.  Oh!   The memory.

****************************************************************
Bobby Joe Snipes: 

September and football just seem to signify that the fall of the year is here.  The weather has been beautiful here for the last month.  And the sky is truly blue with no haze,  just a few white puffy clouds in the afternoon to provide some brief shade.  A little cool front comes through but the next day or two we are back to the low 90s, but we are cooling down in the evenings to around 60.   Yes, that is good ole eastern New Mexico.   Perfect weather for Friday night football.  

Most all of us guys stayed in pretty good shape because of the jobs we had.   I remember the summer before our senior year, A. J. and I worked for Dad at his little ranch north of Broadview.   We got up before sunup and left every morning around 6:00 and drove about 40 miles to the ranch.   We spent the day ripping out a fence row.   That included taking all of the barbed wires off of the fence post and rolling the wire in rolls which were about 4’ tall.   And if you have never done it....you just can’t imagine how hard it is to keep the wire together.  You learned to roll that wire in a back and forth motion so that it would stay together.  A. J. and I wore out 2-3 pairs of leather gloves handling that barbed wire.  Yea, that will sure put some strength in those arms and shoulders. 

Then the post have to come out.   Some of those posts had been there for 20, 30, 40 years.   This fence line was over a quarter of a mile long and the dirt had piled up and accumulated from the sand storms of the dirty '30s.   But Dad said to dig the post up because the could reuse them later.  In those days you didn’t throw away anything.  A. J. and I spent days digging post with a hand held post hole digger.   Hard work.....yea, but it sure built strong arms and shoulders.  

But it wasn’t all work.   Our mothers packed our lunch and we were always glad when that sun stuck straight up in the sky....you see, we didn’t wear watches but we knew when it was time to eat.     We would go to the wind mills, take off our shirt and throw water all over us.   Oh how refreshing....cool....clear....water.   We nearly always had a little breeze to turn the windmills that supplied the best drinking water known to man.  Those wells were 300 feet deep and forever cool. 

But there was always time for some extra curricular activity.  We always seem to have a rattle snake to kill or chase the prairie dogs and try to dig them out of their holes.   If it weren't that, we got the life scared out of us from a 6’ hissing bull snake.   They were always in the weeds along the fence row.....we hated those things and relentlessly clubbed them to a merciless death.  

Well, so much for getting in shape for football.   I will never forget that morning practice on Labor day but no holiday for us.   It was a typical practice, full pads, exercise, stretch those muscles, push ups....touch your nose to the grass...butts down and Coach Harmon walking up and down to see that everyone was working hard. 

Then the coach said this is the last exercise before we work on plays.  You get a partner and carry him on your back....20, 30 yards and then you change and he carries you back.    Well.....the scramble was on!   Everyone looking for a like size or some one lighter to make the tote as fair as possible.   I happen to be standing by Wilbur Johnson.   It seemed like instantly the matches were made and it was......just.....Wilbur and me.    Now I weighed 145 pounds wringing wet and Wilbur weighed 225 (I think).   He was the heaviest man on the team.  Needless to say Wilbur had an easy go of it but that was the longest 30 yards I had ever run.....yes, we were the last team to cross the line and everyone cheered and laughed.    

Yes, Richard, great days to never be forgotten.   We had youth, energy, and knots in our gut and loved every minute of it.   Couldn’t wait for that first game.  Couldn’t wait to hit someone and we did what Coach Harmon said: “Drive and keep driving”.  

Yeah, Richard, we are blessed to make it to that 80 mark.   Now I drive down to Green Acres Park and slowly ease out of the car,  grab my fishing pole and limp down to the waters edge.....I look across Main Street at the CHS football field where we made memories never to be forgotten.   What a great life and I thank God for it.   I stumble around the lake shore,  catch a few blue gill and after about 30 minutes, its time to go home,  eat a muffin and have another cup of coffee.  Wow, that casting is sure hard on your shoulders so I sit in my easy chair, finish my coffee and find myself nodding off in preparation for a stroll to the back yard.   God is good.  

Bob

Bobby Joe Snipes CHS '53

Richard Drake, CHS '53

"The Boys of Fall", Kenny Chesney

www.youtube.com/watch?v=SS4utRzu6UI

FOR MIL'S 

by Bobby Joe Snipes, CHS '53
Richard Drake, CHS '53
Bob Stebbins, CHS '51

9/20/15

A COLD DAY....AT THE NEW MEXICO STATE FAIR, 1974

"The Pied Piper",  State Fair, 1974

The 2015 State Fair is on and will be thru Sunday at midnight.

We used to always go.

In 1974 Donna was called to Amarillo due to an illness and little Brian, 

age 10, and I went together, late one afternoon.  He, being a little boy, 

wanted to ride the cars and horses and we did it!  I watched.

Alas, it was the second week of September, and as 

the weather is wont to do here, a big awful norther (I know, it was JUST 

September) hit about 6 p.m. with high winds! Suddenly it was cloudy, 

cold, and a bit drizzly!

Luckily we had our light jackets. 

We went ahead and visited Tom Bolack's awesome GARDEN PRODUCE, 

the stock buildings where the cowboys who slept by their calves/sheep were

getting cots up early....and though the "midway" seemed to be thriving, the rest

of the fair began to shut down and empty.

Around seven-thirty, my little son (a notorious coffee-drinker "in his own right,")

sez: "Dad let's find a cuppa coffee somewhere!") Places were closing up

but the famous CHUCK WAGON,  run by the  LDS church was still open and 

two or three sat at their counter on the old-fashioned stools.

We went in and each had a cup  of steaming coffee and they scraped their

chili pot for two bowls of their marvelous chili( (for which I later got the recipe.)

It seemed that only a few groups of folks were left..so we headed home about 

8:30 p.m. But it was a time, a place, an unusual happening....

1974----the coldest state fair I ever remember...and one of those family times you

don't forget.

(Brian went on to get his Master's Degree in Classical Guitar, graduate study

at Tulane in teaching children's guitar, and has taught at UNM and privately

for 23 years. He has seventy-five students.)

The NM State Fair grounds, which were once at the edge of Albuquerque, are

now in the "middle of town," ----a section of land bounded by Central, Lomas,

San Pedro, and Louisiana. The MIDWAY is on the south side and the horse-

race track on the NW side.

The Fair's shady lanes beckon about this time every year...to those who are agile

walkers and love the gentle fall air!

You could once get in for fifty cents....

-----------

MIL

PHOTOS BY MIL 501st Post

"Leaning Windmill and Painted Sky", 1969

Elkins, NM

"The Pied Piper", State Fair, 1974

"On the Journey", 1975

"Church Door at Watrous", 1969

""Windmill at Ranchvale", 1974

"Refinery Near Cuba"

1970

"Water Tank South of Albuquerque"

1970

"Icy Tree South of Clines Corners"

1968

"Window Rock, Arizona"

1970

"Old Cottonwood at Corrales"

1968

"Glorieta" 

1971

Mil, Choral Director and Photography Director

 Glorieta, Summer 1971

PHOTOS BY MIL (500th Post)

"Crosses", Roswell, NM, 1969

Mil, Glorieta Staff 1971

"Yucca at Sunset", White Sands, NM, 1969

"Trees at Watrous", 1972

"Wagon Wheel at Ft. Union", 1969

"Windmill at Bernardo", 1968

"St. Francisco de Asis", Taos 1969

"Sheepherder at San Cristobal", 1969

"Church at Golden", 1969

A FORTIES CLOVIS BOY DRAGGIN MAN AGAIN

"SO MANY FRAGMENTS OF THE SPIRIT HAVE

      HAVE I SCATTERED IN THESE STREETS."

       ........Khalil Gibran

***********************

Ever since that splendid event---

    The "Main Dragging of 2014,"

The old Clovis boy has been 

    practicing up for the next one---

June---2015! 

Driving his restored 1950 Sky-Blue Chevrolet

    pickup, like he drove at the farm---it

was a' shining...all polished up, as in

    "Sunday-go-to-meetin' "

and with a good blurbly, quiet muffler...

And he drives up and down Main almost

      ev'ry day...

"Over and over," people said, "And like,

     in no hurry.........."

A closer look at him reveals...he seems

    relaxed...but thinking! And there are

plenty memories in his head, under 

     that Clovis Pioneer baseball cap!

(Where did he get that?!)

He's made his turn in front of the old

    creamery building, and is headed north...

passing Clovis Steam, Busy Bee, and ah...

      he's slowed down and looking up 

at Hotel Clovis...it was the tallest building 

     he'd ever seen in the summer of '38...

Now he's passing Slaughter Murray's,

    where his dad hung out, and Coney

Island Hot Dogs--- Clovis Tailoring where

      Mr. Vaughter sold  him his first  suit...

and Clovis National Bank and his first 

    car payments...Howard Martin  fixed 

that up...

Now he's crossed that awful dip at Third

    and Main---a place filled with raging

water and stalled cars, more hot summer

afternoons than he could ever recall---

    (for he worked right there for Jack Holt

off 'n on for four years)

Now he's passin'. old Monkey Wards, there

    on the east side, an American symbol

almost like mother, apple pie, and Chevrolet.

    On down past Clovis Printing, where 

they sold fine fountain pens, which he 

    checked-on and coveted every Saturday!

On the west side of Main in the 300 block

    were historic Citizens Bank, Jack Holt's,

Carrington's Barber shop, where Jim King

     worked; Carmack's, and Sutter's Jewelry

where he bought his fiancee's rings....

     Duckworth Drug, Holmberg's, Frear's,

Dunlap's, May Bros Jewelry...

Right across the street was Woolworth's,

     (the seeming center-of-the-world

to a little kid in 1938!) where Grady Maples,

    R.B McAlister had KICA studios---upstairs,

and bantered with the merchants down on

    the street, walking to work. and the

Pickering Family sang every morning...

Woolworth's, and its big red signs with gold

     lettering, had the best post-Lyceum movie

ham salad sans @ 20 cents apiece!

Every town should have had a Barry Hardware.

    Just across fourth from "Wooly's ", it was

on the corner where our driver was standing mid-August

    1945, when KICA blocked Main with its

speaker-van, announcing "THE JAPS HAVE 

    SURRENDERED!"

He almost stopped, people noted, in his 

    frequent times of cruising Main---when 

he passed the Lyceum....there was almost

    a reverence emanating from the 

pickup...as he slowed...for this may have

    been his favorite place in the whole

world!  No one else he ever knew was that

    fond of the Lyceum, except for, maybe

Robert Stebbins!

Many happy double features were enjoyed

     there, and in later years, B movies

at night--bargain rates.

Looking over to his left on the west side

     of the 400 block, he could see

(as it was 65 years ago)...Fox Drug, the

    little Magazine/Comics Book store,

Anthony's, Levines, Sunshine Theater,

    and Thrifty Drug, where He bought

his first camera, and paid $5.95 for it!

Then he looked to his right as he crossed

    Fifth, going north, and remembered. the 

vacant lot where in late '44, a Jap Zero

    had been brought in, and platform and 

stairs had been rigged to the cockpit...

    He paid his twenty-five cents...and 

looked into the cockpit...it was a bigger

    plane that he expected...but a tiny 

cockpit.

As one watches this old-Clovis-timer

     driving easily down Main, across

bricks that he has passed a thousand 

    times, one almost feels a sense

of history and fond memories coming from

    that shiny blue cab...

He goes on past the State Theater,

    Standridges (where it was),

Green Stamp Store, Gateway Auto,

     and parks facing north by

the Silver Grill..looking across Seventh

    at where CHS used to be...

His head is leaning against the driver's

    window....as he looks to where his

Alma Mater once stood...is he dozing---

    this old Clovis Kid from the 40's...?

No, he is thinking of old times, long gone,

    when America was a land of morals,

values, Biblical principles, patriotism...

    He thought: "We'd a' laughed at

'political correctness.' "

He is remembering the best teachers in the

    world, from La Casita to Clovis High School

(both now torn down)--- and young, energetic,

     fun-filled, ambitious classmates---now

more than half his class, CHS '51,  departed....

He hears the "Boys' Chorus," echoing 

    from the bandshell, far off in his memory---the

harmony from long ago wafts back across the 

   years---

"As the blackbird in the spring, 'neath the willow 

     tree...sat and piped, I heard him sing...

sing of Auralee...

Auralee, Auralee, maid of golden haiir;

     Sunshine came along with thee

and swallows in the air."

And then the boys were singing from

     somewhere---it came to him...

"Daisy, Daisy, give me your answer do...

    I'm half crazy, all for  the love 

of you..."

"I want a girl just like the girl that

      married dear old Dad...

She was a pearl and the only girl

    That Daddy ever had..."

He almost fell  asleep there, by the

     Grill, when he heard from

the ether--- his own quartet, singing:

"There is nothing like a dame,

     Nothing in the world...

There is nothing you can name

     That is anything like a dame."

He'll be back, from time to time,

    Driving over those famous

red bricks, installed in 1918...

He'll be back doin' his own "main

    dragging" if'n the city quits it...

Don't worry if he likes to remember...

    

Old Clovis and its great people

deserve remembering....

A finer place, I don't know of...

******************

BY MIL

6/07/15

"MAIN STREET CLOVIS---NEVER TO RETURN"

"MAIN STREET CLOVIS----NEVER TO RETURN"

"SO MANY FRAGMENTS OF THE SPIRIT HAVE
   I SCATTERED IN THESE STREETS...."
.........Khalil Gibran
***************************

Robert, CHS '51, said in a Memorial Day
     piece..."Our classmates are
           scattered---to the four corners
                 of the earth."

Gene said awhile back---"We don't know
     how many of us 51'ers are left..."

I wrote a story yesterday about
    "Draggin' Main, 2015---"
and remembered those times after games,
    or on weekends and Sunday afternoons,
when

You'd see kids draggin' Main bumper-to-
    bumper...or standing in front of
Standridge Drug, or comin' out of a movie,
    or parked at a drive-in, somewhere like at
Seventh and Thornton!

I didn't mention those cold winter nights when
    Levi and I forsook our studies, drove
downtown. parked on Main in front of Anthony's,
    and walked across those cold, almost-shrinking
red bricks---to a warm movie at the Lyceum,
   our favorite theater!

There was not much dragging going on---those
      freezing nights.

Ah, our world----Hotel Clovis, Busy Bee, Coney
    Island Cafe, Woolworth's, Barry Hardware,
Lyceum Theater, Sunshine Theater, State,
    Silver Grill, and old CHS standing above it all---
as if watching over her young 'uns...

and then there were the Red Bricks....

Yes, the '51ers have scattered and are gone...

Many never to return...or drag Main again...
   in their old hometown, or
pass over the red bricks one more time.

**********
BY MIL
6/08/15

GOING QUAIL HUNTING

GOING QUAIL HUNTING
by Bob Snipes, guest writer

As a youngster I accumulated several guns....mostly shot guns and rifles.    My first shot gun was a 20 gauge, single shot and it had a plastic stock...just a cheapie which my parents gave me for Christmas when I was about 11-12. 

One shot gun for which I have fond memories was a 12 gauge, single- shot with the barrel sawed off to be about 18 inches long.  It may have been illegal.   If it wasn’t then, I am sure is would be now.  I don’t remember exactly where I got that shot gun but I think I traded a model air plane engine for it.   Man, that thing would kick the snot out of you and it had a pattern as broad as a barn. 

One Saturday afternoon in the Fall, I decided to go quail hunting since the season was open.   I drove out west of Clovis Air Force Base to hunt at some friends’ who had given me permission to hunt at their farm.   Since it was Saturday afternoon,  my friends had gone to town so I cautiously started walking toward  pile of old trees and junk.  My shot gun of choice for this Saturday afternoon excursion was that old 12 gauge, single-shot sawed off shot gun.    Sure enough a small covey of Blues started running down a little trail.   I ran, I stopped and took a pot shot while they were running.  Woa is me.... quail were flopping everywhere.....5 quail in one shot and I was one excited youngster. 

But that isn’t the end of that hunting story.   I noticed that two or three quail flew to a stalk field just north of the house.   I gathered the quail and hustled to the field,  dropping the five quail by my car as I passed.   As I approached the field I saw the quail running down one row about 10 feet apart.   As I stopped, they flew one right after the other and at a right angle from me.  I lead one and baalooooooie.....the dust rose and all three quail fell to the ground....dead as a door nail.   Wow.....2 shots and 8 quail and guess what?   The limit was 8 quail per day.   I gathered them up and headed home and yes,  I was one tickled boy and had quite a story to tell Dad and Mother. 

*****************************************************************************
ONE MORE HUNTING STORY

Let me tell you one more hunting story about that sawed off shot gun.   Dad was going to his little ranch north of Broadview one Saturday afternoon to check on his cattle and he asked Art and I if we wanted to go with him.   Normally these were very uneventful trips and amounted to a long boring ride and we were reluctant until he explained that with the abundance of rain we could take our guns and maybe shoot a duck. 

Well, that created some excitement and Art and I got our shotguns and ammo and we asked Dad if he was going to hunt.   You see, Dad didn’t own a shot gun and he never and I mean N-e-v-e-r went duck hunting.  He looked at our guns and said “Let me just take that ole sawed off shot gun”.   It really didn’t matter to Dad, he wasn’t planning to shoot anything anyway.....he was just along for the outing with his boys. 

After a drive through herd of cattle and checking and counting them, he drove to a shallow lake which was just east of the barn about 200 yards.   He decided to drop Art and I off on one side and he would go to the other side.   So we hunkered down in the tall grass hoping that some duck would be flying around from some of the other lakes and we would get a shot because it was getting later in the afternoon.  

Dad did not try to hide the pickup,  he just stepped out a ways and set down in the grass.   The lake was about100 yards across and we could easily see each other, and Art and I were about 30-40 yards apart.  

After about 10-15 minute wait and no ducks.....here comes one duck circling the lake.   The duck was so high that you could hardly see it...it looked like a speck and it was circling over Dad.   Suddenly Dad sees the duck and we see Dad come up with that sawed off shot gun.   Art and I looked at each other and grinned and I hollered and said “Look....he’s going to shoot at that thing”.    And he did! ! ....baalooooooie....and the smoke bellowed from that ole shot gun and in an instant that duck folded his wings and tumbled to the earth like a rock.    Art and I shook our heads and laughed and we could not believe our eyes. 

After a bit,  Dad picked up his duck, threw it in the pickup and came around to get Art and I to go home.  Dad had the neatest grin on his face like.....well..... guess I showed you boys how to hunt duck.   You know......Dad was a good shot but some time it just pays to be lucky.  

Dad had a Remington automatic 22 and he was an excellent shot.   When we lived on Thornton street and had horses and chickens in the back yard (early to mid 40s) there were always feral cats trying to get the chickens.  That was before they outlawed livestock in the city limits.  If Dad saw a cat on the back fence he would step out the back door, take a fine bead and shoot the cats right off of the fence.

One time at the ranch we were in the road and Dad spotted a bird at the very top of the barn.   It wasn’t a large bird and it was about 80 yards away and he stopped the pickup and said “let me see if I can hit that bird”   bang......and the feathers flew like you had busted a pillow.   He just grinned and went on down the road.   He was a good shot. 

Another time down in Brown County Texas we were ridding in the country and Dad said “Look at that big squirrel in the top of that tree”.   He had his 22 so he stopped the car and eased the window down and stuck the rifle out.   Just as he started to shoot, the squirrel jumped toward another tree about 10 yards away.  Immediately, Dad lead that squirrel and “bang” shot that squirrel right out of the mid air.   Dad just chuckled and grinned as to say “did you see that boys?” Dad was a good shot and he was lucky also.  

Bob, the Hunter

FOR MIL'S

Bobby Joe Snipes, CHS '53
guest writer

9/7/15

VINTAGE DUCK DECOYS

by Bob Snipes, guest writer

Your recent post about duck hunting stimulated my memory which took me back to my teen years when J. B. Blaylock and I spent many a weekend rising early and visiting the lakes close to Clovis.   There were a few times we would get up and make a quick trip to a lake before school.   We loved to hunt duck....actually we loved to hunt period...duck.....dove and quail.  

J. B. had a 12 gauge side by side double barrel with 28” long barrels and I had a 12 gauge Remington pump with a 32” barrel with a full choke.    Now, J. B was a crack shot but those ole duck would get out of his range and my 32” full choke was an ideal duck gun....long range with a more concentrated pattern.  It was especially gratifying to knock a duck down that was high tailing it at what seemed to be a mile high.  We had more fun than a barrel of monkeys. 

 As boys we would shoot anything that flew.   We got our share of crows, field larks, hawks and sparrows.   They better not fly by us because we would shoot them.   Just typical dumb kids out having fun but we weren’t out getting drunk or stealing steering wheel knobs (I think they called them necking knobs). 

Being interested in hunting and fishing, when I was about 13-14 years old,  I decided to purchase some duck decoys.   After looking at mother’s Montgomery Wards catalogue, I made a visit to the store on Main street.   They told me that they could order 12 decoys and I believe that the price was $7.95.   I mowed a few more lawns,  saved my money and ordered the duck decoys.  

I used the decoys probably a half dozen times but after high school they got thrown in a box and stored in various corners of my parents garage.    Years later, when I lost interest in duck hunting and I spent all of my time making a living,  I gave the decoys to my brother-in-law,  Don Price.   Don was a Game warden in Tucumcari and he later moved to Belen.   He and his sons hunted up and down the Rio Grande and they used the decoys.   He told me the stories how a few of the decoys floated down the river and one or two of them got shot and destroyed. 

After Don quit the N M Game and fish department, he did not hunt much but he salvaged 2 or 3 of the decoys.   Years later, I was visiting Don in Albuquerque and happen to notice the old decoys in his garage.  I ask him if I could have the best one back and he graciously obliged. 

The decoy in the photo sets on my shelf with other memorabilia of years gone buy.   The decoys were very interesting.   They are made of a water proof canvas and are stuffed with some type of water proof floatation material.   This decoy is a  hand painted mallard hen and has glass eyes.   On the bottom side there is a canvas loop to hook a cord and weight to keep it from floating away.   Ebay has a few of these listed for sale for around $19.95.

Bob and JB

FOR MIL'S

Bobby Joe Snipes, CHS '53
guest writer

9/7/15

"EYE HATH NOT SEEN"

EYE HATH NOT SEEN"

"But as it is written, eye hath not seen, ear

hath not heard, neither have entered into 

the heart of man, the things which God hath 

prepared for them that love him."

  ----- 1 Corinthians 2.9

******************

O WHAT COULD BE WAITING THERE...

CAN WE IMAGINE---BETTER THAN----

Purple mountain majesties

Soaring white clouds, blue summer sky

Cold, clear, gurgling mountain streams

A jumping rainbow trout

Shimmering golden aspens on a fall day

Red oaks in October

Dogs jumping for frisbees

The neighborhood-filling smell of a grill

The soothing sound of a classical guitar

A mother duck, followed by five ducklings

Little beagle and golden retriever puppies

The lonesome sound of a harmonica

A pond with cattails

Baby chicks and old pickup trucks

Robins red-breast and Blue Jays

Ten thousand other beautiful birds

Summer and boys fishing in the old creek

A church picnic at the park

Roses, daisies, geraniums, and poinsettias

Fried chicken and deviled eggs

Quilts and bacon

Rain, wind and snow...cold winter nights

Hot cup of tomato soup by the fireside

Bacon and pancakes...breakfast, Aunt Sally's

Thanksgiving turkey and dressing-Grandma's

A cold drink from a spring

Rocking on the front porch at twilight

Gardens full of vegetables

Farm cellars, with canned jellies and veggies

Sitting and musing by an old windmill

A mature wheat field of golden grain

A male choir, singing four-part music

An A Cappella Choir

A bologna san with tomato slices

Green chilis

Tidy front bedrooms in old farmhouses

Traumerei

Hearing someone yodel

Stephen Foster's melodies

Robert Shaw Chorale

Sissel singing "O Holy Night"

The companionship of a spouse

Holding a child's hand

Hearing "Eternal Father, Strong to Save"

The FLAG

Loyal friends

Hamburgers

Norman Rockwell's paintings

**************

Yes, what else could be waiting there....

    unseen, unheard, and unimagined?

"How beautiful heaven must be!...

    sweet home of the happy and free,

These truths in God's word He has given,

    How beautiful heaven must be."

(Old Gospel song)

***************

"And God shall wipe away all tears from

    their eyes...and there shall be no more 

death, neither sorrow, nor crying, neither 

    shall there be any more pain,

for the former things are passed away."

 ..Revelation  21:4

"How Beautiful Heaven Must Be", George Jones:

www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5PMTEORjqg

******************

MIL'S PLACE

BY MIL

May 17, 2015

LOST AT SEA ON WALLY'S POND

WALLY'S POND

Old-timers still talk of

     that strange April night

in 2015...when

They gather around the

     old coffee pot at the

Brazoria General Store...

After all, there are retired sailors

     and sea-lovers galore 'round

those parts---and who loves

     an old sea tale like an old Tar?

The tale went like this: all over

     the Gulf shore area, sea

shanties were heard all-night-

     long...that April night...

clearly... along the coast

     on the salty sea breezes,

Coming in from the sea, it

      seemed...

Some old Tars,  it was said---

     even got up, and brewed

a pot...and sang along with

    the ghostly voices---

"Come all you young sailors

     who follow the sea,

Way hey, blow the man down...

     Awaitin' for you is a girl

just like me...

Way hey we'll blow the man down!

Blow the man down, my maties,

      Blow the man down,

Give us some time---

      We'll blow the man down!"

Yes, it kept many awake, and

     brought back fond memories

of the sea...and times when

     the whole world...was young.

Search parties were sent out

     next morning

in small boats to search the

     coast for the ghostly, perhaps

shipwrecked... wailin' singers...

Strangely the search narrowed to

     a small pond at Wild Peach...

A neighbor, swore the sound

      came from near his place...

They found 'em...thar on Wally's Pond...

     Little boat a'rockin amidst

the cattails...

They found 'em thar...three of 'em...

     OLD TARS. happy to be

back at sea together...

     Exhausted from a long night

of recallin'---celebratin'--- and

     a-sangin'---

They found 'em, happily asleep

     with smiles on their faces...

a'snorin' ....

and

A little keg, labeled

     Glenmorangie Celtic Nectar

empty, and bobbin' gently

     in the bottom of the

little boat, at the feet of the

     sleepin' compadres...

There amidst the cattails

     on Wally's Pond..

The old timers  down thar...

     still talk about it....

***************

By MIL

April 18, 2015

     

"THE MAIL BOX"

"Neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom

   of night stays these couriers from

      the swift completion of their

           appointed rounds."

------U.S. Postal Motto

********************

It wasn't at all  indestructible--that first mail

   box, at our "new place..."

Made of ornate wrought iron---and craned

   out toward the curb, like a goose's

       neck...

It was not sturdy...and wobbled a right smart,

     sometimes sideways, in the wind...

For you see, some past-over-zealous postman

     in his eagerness to do his job--

once't got too close and bopped it good 

     and proper, with his little vehicle...

So now it was bent a mite and twisted and

     "out of kilter" as sprung metal

always is...it just swayed weird-like....

I never exactly felt like it was "home" here

    'til the DAY WE GOT A NEW MAIL

BOX! (No mail is ever in it now, but "OURN!")

Now the new one is a "FOREVER BOX,"

   just like the stamps that bring the

letters! They're "forever" too. Not many

    things, you know, are forever.

Firecrackers won't bust it...bulldozers can

    run over it...no problem...I've seen 

pictures, and know it to be so.

It sits on a treated six by six, buried in

    cement, four feet deep...harricuns

won't even faze it,

Nor will "snow nor rain nor heat nor 

    gloom of night" ever bother it...

Oh, it is  MAGNIFICENT...and it is OURS!

**************

MILS PLACE

BY MIL

29 August 2015

1019 hours

(One  day our doorbell rang and there 

stood our POST PERSON, looking

spiffy in her grey//blue post office

uniform.

She said to me: "If they go to a 

neighborhood POST BOX here, could 

I buy your mail box?)

IDITAROD--THE GREATEST RACE ON EARTH

"There are strange things done in the midnight sun,

     By the men who moil for gold;

The Arctic trails have their secret tales

     That would make your blood run cold!"

-------Robert Service

****************************

This summer of 2015 has been "The Summer of the ARCTIC,"

at our house!

Maybe it has been the heat which brought on this happy

phenomenon---in which we have watched six or eight cold, 

icy TV shows about the northern climes and countries and

have read three or four books about the wintry seas and

frozen-in-and-crushed ships....

And...we rented from NETFLIX recently a six-part TV series,

covering the awesome, fascinating, and world-popular

Alaskan sled dog event....the Iditarod.

"THE IDITAROD," perhaps the most-famous race on earth

today, might seem to some to meet the poet's criteria for

"strange things done in the midnight sun," when a lower-

forty-eight-state novice takes an unwashed person's look 

at REAL ALASKA doings!

It is a tough 1000 mile race--- for both men and dogs. 

Beginning at Anchorage and ending at Nome, it covers

some of the most beautiful terrain in Alaska...and some

of the most-remote, and most exotic that Mother Nature

has to offer---as she throws at the competitors---jagged

mountain ranges, desolate tundra, frozen rivers (with 

melting spots), snowstorms, white-outs, and miles of

windswept trails. 

Add to that zero weather, treacherous gullies, night

travel, fatigue, hunger, and intestinal issues with

dehydration---particularly for the sled dogs.

These specially-bred "Alaskan sled dogs" are a story

within themselves! If you read on the subject, you will

find that they are part Eskimo sled dogs, part imported

European dogs, and part wolf. 

They do not bark---they howl. Given good training,

affection, discipline, food, and shelter, they will

run their hearts out for a musher...up to a hundred

miles a day...and, if well physically, will repeat this

day after day.

One of the main things I have gleaned from this 

series, along with the marvelous Alaskan scenery,

is the courage of these animals, along 

with their literal strength-of-heart. How their

hearts function minute-after-minute, hour-after-

hour, as the dogs are always running, is beyond

my understanding.

And they are ready to go again the next day.

The fastest race ever run in Iditarod history

(since it began in 1973) was 8 days, 13 hours, 

4 minutes, and 19 seconds, in 2014. The winner 

was Dallas Deavey.

There was a photo finish in 1978...the winner

taking the long race by one second. A heart-

breaker for the loser...

There are check stations for signing in, resting--

short breaks and long--- checking the animals for 

injuries, feeding them, and maybe a few hours

sleep for all, as the exhausted sled "driver" may 

often have been standing for eight or nine hours.

  

A check point may be a tiny outpost, or a small

village, or a town. For example, Ruby (pop. 190)

or Unalakleet (pop.710)

Each dog team entry is required by race rules to

take ONE continuous twenty-four hour break

during the race. Meticulous records are kept

by Alaskan citizen volunteers from all walks.

This is because the race has been said to

reflect "THE SPIRIT OF AlASKA"---"It's

more than a race." It reflects the emotions

and history of 710,000 Alaskans.

AND MORE, it commemorates the famous 

1925 "GREAT MERCY RACE" to Nome, 

Alaska---a town on the verge of a terrible 

diphtheria epidemic---and lacking effective

antitoxin; some eight mushers and 150 

courageous sled dogs relayed through on the

IDITAROD, carrying  enough vaccine to

halt the epidemic.

 The town of Nome was "frozen-in" and it was a

 time when aircraft were just coming into

 vogue.

As the final mercy sled  arrived in Nome, after 

days and nights of arduous mushing by all 

the teams, it was carrying the heavily 

insulated-against-the-cold containers---cheers 

went up for the lead sled dog Balto, as he 

entered the town at the head of his team.

Balto's statute, today, looks out over New

York City's Central Park and is said to be 

oft visited...and popular.

"SEWARD'S FOLLY?" I think not!

"Balto"

***********************

BY MIL

1 September 2015

1041 hours