"ENDLESS PALAVER"

************************
"I have given you speech for endless palaver."
 from "The Rock," by T.S. Eliot
************************

Is it true,
Like in T.S. Eliot's poem---
That "endless palaver" thing?
Are we guilty of it?

"Why no," most people'd say.
"Not me, oh I do chit-chat
a little on FacePlace, but
Only important stuff---
Important information."

They'd  say:
"Okay, the other day
Someone did accuse me of
TMI---(don't you hate acronyms?)
'Too Much Information.'
But it was certainly not
"endless palaver!"

Had a friend once who had
Great gobs of gravitas.
Seriously.
He once said: "Always play
your cards close to the vest!"
He was saying: "your business
is your business,
Don't be a blabbermouth!"

Why even my lifetime friend, Levi,
When he  was six years old, and asked
why he didn't talk, answered:
"SMART PEOPLE DON'T TALK MUCH."

In the forties, out on farms
They said about a talker:
"He tells his guts!"
Farmers were laconic---
They listened more
than they talked.

First I ever heard of FacePlace was in 2009.
Wife mentioned it and I said
"WHAT? NO!"
"Yes!" she said.

Then I became a blogger,
Wordier yet---
FacePlace is too brief for me.
Uh-oh!

Remember the Nantucket whalers,
Gone from their families
Three years at a time, around
Dangerous Cape Horn---
Their plights unknown to
Anxious families---on tenterhooks...
They could've used FacePlace.

You say
"Where are you going with this?"
Anywhere, everywhere, nowhere---
Same place as most of
Our palaver!

*******30*******
BY MIL
5/22/13

Sent from my iPad

OLD CLOVIS----REMEMBERING THE FORTIES

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

"TOO MANY FRAGMENTS OF THE SPIRIT HAVE I SCATTERED
IN THESE STREETS." ----KAHLIL GIBRAN

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

Clovis friends, and others, stick with me for a random---no particular order--- trip down Memory Lane around old Clovis, the place where we did so many things and have so many great memories. If I am wrong on any dates or facts, it is strictly unintentional.
--------------------
BLACK-OUT- Very soon after December 7, 1941, probably that month, Clovis had a "black-out." All lights in town were turned off, or shades drawn, and planes from the young base flew over town. All the neighbors were out on their lawns. (I was never quite sure who it was---who might be bombing us, so far inland.)

--------------------
EARLY AIRPORT-- The first airport was five miles west of town. There was a store there and folks drove by it and up across the tracks and turned right and there was a big hanger.  It was popular among the citizens in the late thirties to drive out on Sunday afternoons and park, and watch planes taking off and landing. The planes in those days were mostly two-wing jobs.
---------------------
JUNIOR HIGH FIRE-- Sometime around 1939, there was a big fire in the east wing of Clovis Junior High. I was small and didn't know much about it.
---------------------
EXPLOSIONS AT THE FOOTBALL FIELD---Do you remember that troops stationed at Camp Reed or at the base, early in the war, put on a military demonstration of attacking troops. They carried rifles, started at the north end and "attacked" to the south, using blanks and dummy ammo, but small explosions were rigged as they moved across the field. A big crowd attended. (It probably didn't enhance the turf very much!)
----------------------
NO BOOZE---Clovis was "dry" during most of the forties. They tell me the nearest booze was in Taiban.
.-----------------------
A WET YEAR---Check it for yourself---1941 was one of the wettest  years in Clovis history. Water backed up out of that old lake bed at the west end of Fourteenth Street and I know it was standing in some vacant lots. People had boats out there. As to house damage, in the area, I'm uncertain. It is likely that the Wildcat football field was under water also.
------------------------
PLANES CIRCLING---Throughout the war, planes of one kind or another were stationed at the Clovis Air Base. They were seen and heard all through the day, though I don't remember them at night. There were B17's, B24's, and B29's, as well as random others.
------------------------
TRAIN SOUNDS---In our first years in Clovis, beginning in 1938, we lived down at 415 W. Grand, two or three blocks north of the train tracks and the ROUNDHOUSE. There were constant sounds of trains clanging, bumping together for hook-ups (I suppose). There was a seemingly constant Choo-Choo-Choo, and now and then a release of steam that sounded like a giant sigh, of an old engine that was tired and ready to rest  a bit. I want to tell you that I grew to love those sounds...and trains. They didn't bother me at all.
------------------------
HAMBURGERS---FIVE CENTS---Did you know that there was once a "gap" in the Main Street frontage, immediately north of the State Theater? Yes, there was a small greasy spoon cafe that sold hamburgers for a nickel---there adjoining the theater!
-------------------------
ANOTHER "GREASY SPOON"---Going north of the state Theater three or four stores---was another little cafe; it had stools, a counter, and a pin ball machine that Levi Liked. We used to go in there for coffee, if we got tired of dragging Main. This cafe endured into the early fifties.

            --------------------------

 A FREE SINATRA MOVIE---The year I was in the fourth grade, the State Theater had a program whereby some classes at the grade schools (I don't know the ages) were given on a selected afternoon, a free movie. Ms. Holloway's  fourth grade paraded down Sixth Street one afternoon and got to see a free Sinatra movie.What I remember about it is that the girls in the film were swooning over Frank. I bought two Hershey bars and bribed a cute chick in the class to sit with me!

           --------------------------

PARADES IN CLOVIS---I never missed one. My parade review spot was in front of Woolworth's looking west. Grady Maples and R.B. McAlister were up there over Wooly's, hanging out of their KICA Studio wimdow, giving a play-by-play of each parade. Parades started at First and Main and broke up at Eighth and Main near the bandshell. I always enjoyed the Shriners in their fezes and the Mounted Patrol guys. Early in WWII, we had marching soldiers on Main Street in parades. Check out old parade photos.
--------------------------
RODEOS---We had them southeast of town. I'll never forget the announcers---when a guy was dumped by a bucking animal: "Give him applause---your praise is his only reward."
--------------------------
EDDY ARNOLD---Eddy did a concert at our old Wildcat football field; I sold balloons, popcorn, and cokes. The year was circa 1948.
--------------------------
NO CAFETERIAS---In all my years in school in Clovis (1939-1951), I do not remember any lunch facilities--ever. It was brown-bag it or go home. In junior high we used to take our lunches, and sit in the old gym on the north side... in the winter time. Some kids got hamburgers at Johnny's Drive-In, just east of the junior high.
-------------------------
JOHNNY'S--- One day, circa 1948, several of us guys were getting a coke from Johnny's after school. He knew all us guys and he said: "My garage storage shed back there needs cleaning out, and stuff thrown away. I'll give you guys a nice hamburger meal if you'll get back there and clean it out and sweep it." We got with it, threw away stuff and did the job. There was a pretty nice, but dusty old sport coat back there on a nail---a mustard tan---and I tried it on. I was a perfect fit. I took it up to the cafe and said: "Hey, can I have this?" "Yeh, sure, take it," he said. Though it had several moth holes, I had it cleaned and wore it until I outgrew it. I liked Johnny. (I wore the jacket to my first BDC banquet at El Monterrey,)
---------------------------
DRUG STORES---Over the years, there were three different drug stores at the Fourth and Main location. When we moved to Clovis in 1938, it was Fox Drug. Later it became Cretney's, and finally Roden-Smith. (I think). I don't know what's there now.
---------------------------
THRIFTY DRUG---On the opposite end of that block, at Fifth and Main, there was the Thrifty Drug store. It was right next door to the Sunshine Theater. I one day bought a $5.95 "CLIX-O-FELX" film size 127 camera there at Thrifty, that served me for many years and made a lot of keepsake photos.

---------------------------
THE SUNSHINE THEATER---When I was about 10 years old, I was in law enforcement, working for Chief Pennell, head of the Clovis Police Department. You see, I was a member of the Clovis Junior Police. We met every Saturday morning at Sunshine Theater, with our Chief giving us a "briefing," and also extolling us to walk the straight and narrow. I had a gray/blue uniform shirt with "JUNIOR POLICE" on the left sleeve, but alas, I must report to you that I made no cases or arrests----it was all I could do---to just keep MYSELF on the "straight and narrow!" But the Saturday morning movies were great and cost only a dime!
------------------------
SANTA FE HEIGHTS---Do you remember that war-time housing addition, built at Thornton and Fourteenth? It was roughly four blocks long and two blocks wide, and held a lot of people. As far as I know, it was, I think, mainly for the glut of war-time railroaders moving into Clovis, a main railroad town. I had several friends who lived there.
--------------------------
BELL PARK/PIONEER FIELD---It seemed awfully big in those days, didn't it? It always seemed full of fans! Pioneer players would hit home runs and walk around the boxes of the businessmen there behind home plate, and  collect rolled-up bills through the chicken wire. Out on the first base line sat your wild and wooly tobacco-chewers and cigar-smokers. That was the fun place to be, though the concrete seats were hard----you might get a foul ball out there!
-----------------------------
A "SANGIN'" AT EUGENE FIELD---Do you remember, KICA broadcast a very informal Grand Ole Opry-type "sangin'" at Eugene Field auditorium, every Saturday night at 7:30 p.m. Radio was pretty slim on Saturday nights in those days, but I never missed this "sangin'" though the singers and the songs were pretty near always the same!
------------------------------
"TWO WEEKS WITH LOVE"---What were YOU doing on the big "turn of the half-century" date of December 31, 1949? I'll tell you where some of us were. It seems that Mardis, Sieren, and I were hanging out and driving around. We saw a couple of girls---(friends of ours from church) at a drive-in getting a coke and we all decided we'd all take in the New Year's midnight movie at the State Theater, "Two Weeks With Love," starring Jane Powell. It was the first time I ever saw Debbie Reynolds. She sang "Abba Dabba Honeymoon" with Carlton Carpenter.
------------------------------
A JAPANESE ZERO FIGHTER PLANE--- Somehow the US captured a Jap Zero, the incredibly fast and maneuverable ace-in-the-hole plane of the enemy air force. The Americans learned how fight them and had found one serious flaw---the gas tank was not armored, nor the pilot's area. Armor was sacrificed for light weight and speed. This captured plane was sent on tour around the US and when it came to Clovis, it was set up in a large tent right across the street from the State Theater on the corner of Fifth and Main, east side. It cost twenty-five cents to see it, and I walked up a ladder by the cockpit and looked in---and the amazing thing was that the cockpit was so small and tight. Also amazing was how BIG the plane seemed to be, overall.

------------------------------
THERE, ON THE CORNER, BY BARRY HARDWARE---In my other writings, I have noted that KICA Radio Station blocked  Main Street, at Fourth and Main,  with a speaker-van, one Saturday afternoon, mid-August, 1945. A crowd was gathering as I came out of the Lyceum Theater, and stood there by Barry Hardware, and heard the announcement  over the loudspeaker: "the Japs have surrendered!" That was the day I said to myself: "Thank God, no more wars!" I've always had a fond spot...for Barry Hardware.

*******30*******
BY MIL
3/01/13





Sent from my iPad

MEMORIAL DAY: CHS '51 MEMBERS SPEAK

***********************
"CLOVIS WILL ALWAYS BE A PART OF US, AND EACH OF US A PART OF CLOVIS."
       -------Robert Stebbins
***********************

"MEMORIES...OF A LIFETIME"
  ----by John Sieren, CHS '51

Memories are the marks on the yardstick of a lifetime,

From birth to death---the ups and downs of an earthly climb;

Retaining and recalling from the registry of the mind

Experience, events, promises, people still entwined

Preserved in a fragile cocoon, they return as an echo,

Remembrances shadowing a colorful tableau.

Some reconstructed moments are fraught with joy and delight,

While others revive bygone events filled with fear or spite.

For some, memories keep the mind alive with love and hope,

Melancholy and spiritual gloom grease the slippery slope

That marks an anthology of unraveled hopes and dreams,

Memories are based on the individual it seems.

Personalities, genetics, health, peers all display,

A cementing force on each life's memory bouquet

Where one is and who one is ranks as a memory blend

Of all the bonds and attachments sought to transcend.
***************
"AN EARLY SCHOOL MEMORY"
  -----by John Sieren CHS '51

"We were in the third grade when Pearl Harbor was bombed and in the sixth grade when
we were beginning to win the war. I remember, during those times that I was afraid the Japanese or Germans would come over and bomb us, and as a result, I learned the
silhouettes of all their bombers. I tried to train myself to quickly wake up in case we were invaded. We had to learn to do without items we had before the war.

We bought savings stamps that would eventually add up to a war bond. We has to save up ration stamps to get sugar and other and other rationed items. We had paper, rubber, and metal drives to collect items used to make what was needed by the war effort. It was a tense, trying time even for elementary school students, and when VE Day and VJ Day came, I remember that I had a feeling of relief---more than any other feeling."

********************
"WHAT MEMORIAL DAY IS ABOUT"
  ----by Robert Stebbins, CHS '51

"Memorial Day is about remembering. We remember our loved ones and others we may or may not have personally known, who have passed this way on their journey to eternity. Our departed Clovis High School classmates occupy a special place in our memories, and we give thanks for those who are still here.

Until mid-1951 we shared our adolescence, growing up in one of the best places in the world.
Upon graduation, we went our separate ways to experience new people, different places,
and more of life's adventures.

While we may not have realized it then, Clovis will always be a part of us...and each of us a
part of Clovis."
*********************
"WHAT LAY AHEAD..."
----by Levi Brake, CHS '51

"Little did we know in 1951 what adventures and misadventures, what joys and sorrows would be ahead. But I wouldn't change any of it. Not a whit!"
********************
5/27/13
FOR MIL'S,
JOHN, ROBERT,
& LEVI
(MEMORIAL DAY, 2013)

MEMORIAL DAY: CLOVIS HIGH SCHOOL CLASS OF 1951

*************************
"EVERY ONE OF THEM WAS  DEAR TO MY HEART."
      -----Jimmy Blair, circa 1996
*************************
"I returned and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill, but time and chance happeneth to them all.  Ecclesiastes 9:11
**************************

That spring day in Clovis,
Early in 1951
The Senior Class of Clovis High School
Stood on the front steps of
Our beloved old school building
For our final picture as a class---
We were soon to graduate
And make our mark on the world!
I remember that day well!

We were so full of
Vim, vinegar, vitality, energy
And fun that day---after all
We were really not that long
Removed from the rowdy, restless
Recess days of the playgrounds
At La Casita and Eugene Field!

When we were little kids
At those schools, we never
Thought much about high school...
Or growing up, or graduation...

Except high school people
Looked awfully big and grown,
And downtown was a funny place
To put a school.

Now there we were, out front
For our Senior Class picture!
And we felt grown-up, ready
To tackle the world.
It was our oyster!
We thought we'd live forever!

Little did we realize---
We'd fall one by one
Along the way...
Or little suspect
That our old beloved CHS building
Would precede us.

A history of that class.
Life by life, would be amazing
To watch or read---
The careers, the work, the good
Each person has done in life
Would seem almost unbelievable.

That was a most-talented group
Of depression kids, taught
All the way from the first grade
To the twelfth, by likewise
Amazing teachers!
We remember them gratefully,
Respectfully, and fondly.

Equally as incredible as the class
Itself, are the sons and daughters
Of the Class of '51 members.
Follow them, their education,
Their lives, their careers, and
One is totally impressed!

One by one, as the years
Have passed...
So have our members
Passed on.
And the remaining ones
Are nearing the "eighty" mark.
"How did that happen?"---
More than one member has said
To me.

Who really knows how many
Class members
Are left?

Most of our class, I think
would say:
"Those school days were good days,
A good hometown, good friends,
Good fun, and good memories.;
And we've all had
A "good run."

Clovis High School Class of 51

Reunion 2008

*******30*******
BY MIL
MEMORIAL DAY
MAY 27, 2013
******************
IN MEMORIAM....

Jimmy Abernathy
Jimmy Blair
Don Campbell
Zeno Crosswhite
Bruce Davia
Geraldine Edwards
Billy Harwell
Billy Hasty
Thomasina Ingram Murrell
Charlotte Kelley
Marlene Lancaster
Donald Mardis
Robert Roberts
Jerry Roberts
R.G. Snipes
Pat Thompson
James Timmons
Jimmy Whatley
Bobby Wilhite
JoAnn Williams
Sherman Williams
Noel Dougherty
Vera Lou Priddy
Engle Southard
Marcia Stebbins
Dorothy Trigg
Dixie Sanderson
Teddy Blair
Jerry Crook
Wanda King Snipes
John Thorn Marshall
Rita Gayle Delaney

          Charles Mason

      *******30******

      BY MIL

      5/2713

Sent from my iPad

THE ATTIC WHISPERER

*************************************************************
WELCOME BACK TO "COUNTRY BOY BOB"----JUNQUE HOBBYIST!
*************************************************************

Bob, I'm so glad you're back in town
And could stop by for a chat up
In my cozy attic!

I wrote up those other two visits, and a lot
Of people read them, and many good comments
Came in, along with a bunch of questions.

One lady even said: "Hey, here's an idea----
Keep writing about all that interesting stuff, and
those books---and call it 'DOWNTOWN ATTIC,'
From that English TV show!"

C' mon in and set a spell---you take the rocker again,
And we'll remember old times over there in Clovis!

You know, Bob, one of the reasons I enjoy
Having you come by, besides your Junque knowledge--
Is the fact that we have been friends for
Seventy-three years!
How many people can we talk to, that were there
That long ago?!

Like: do you remember the time, over there
On Reid Street, in 1941,  when there were
Big ditches in the streets for city plumbing,
It rained, he ditches were eight feet deep with water
And and we lost my little brother somehow; (he turned up!)
Or when we scraped used brick over on Reid
At the "new" Asbury Methodist Church at two cents per brick...
That was getting rich slowly, wasn't it?

After we got paid, we each got a big twelve ounce
Pepsi, drove a shingle nail hole through the lid...
(we did that often, and I never knew why),
Then we took about one swig, shook up the bottle
And had a Pepsi fight, squirting Pepsi all around!
All the fizz was then gone.

We'll have to call this visit today---
"THE ATTIC WHISPERER,"
Because just like when were little boys
And knew secrets, I'm going to divulge stuff today!!
Big-time, important stuff!
Here, please hang this sign on the door,
And close it.
"WOMEN NEED NOT KNOCK!"

Well, for one thing---ER, am I whispering enough?
You have to watch women---they hate junk,
Unless it is of course THEIR  junk. Then it's okay.
They are notorious at giving away a bunch of clothes,
Or junk; then they'll say: "I need some new blah-blahs!"
Whereas, men are content just to keep
Their same old clothes or  junk, figuring it's pretty nice
And is paid for.

Why, let me tell you---I just don't get women's fashions---
The other day we were driving along and there walked
Two pretty nice looking older girls...
But the poor things---Bob, the knees were totally ripped
Out of their old faded light blue jeans...(and the seats, wo!)
When I say "ripped,"---I mean RIPPED!
In pity, my heart went out to them...and I blurted out:
"If I had two hundred dollars to spare, I'd buy
Those cute girls, a nice new pair of blue jeans each!"

Know what the wife said? She said---
"That's the style!"

So anyway, shhh! Bob, low-key your admiration of my junk...
Now and then I get fearful vibes, that my stuff
Might have to go.
I know guys that can't keep anything---
Their wives have practically daily give-aways  to
Good Will, S.Army, and the Vets.

Okay, now it's time for a little lunch before we talk,
And I might add---a little more whispering.
For you see, we are having that old
Duck-hunter's lunch---sardines, cheese, crackers,
And onions. Don't worry, I can leave the attic window open
All night!

We'll need to eat fast or the wife might smell
Our lunch! More's the pity too that women don't like
Sardines---have you read the specs on them?
Wow! Nutrition City!

Now I must keep whispering---I know you think I'm
Deceptive...but let me tell you the biggie  news
About our lunch BEVERAGE! Remember seventy years ago
When you got sick with the old "tum-tum" and your
Mother went to the store and bought you a real mild, no-fizz
Grape drink? What was it Bob? Think....

YES, YES, YES! In my little fridge, I have two
DELAWARE PUNCHES. Whaddya think?
Now, I haven't broken the news yet to management,
Because they cost me two dollars per can;
They don't come in bottles anymore.
And they aren't cheap!

They're from Old Mexico, so I hope they don't
Have a big worm in each can!
They have a drink that has a big worm in the
Bottle, intentionally. (Not that I've ever tried it.)

See that old cane bottom chair over in the corner,
Under a big stack of quilts---
I had to search for that chair.
It is just like the one my grandmother used at
POP'S PLACE to store her quilts.
They were on that chair in the boys' room
On the back of the garage; folded neatly
They almost reached the ceiling.

We don't have nearly as many here in the attic
As she had.
I can remember a quilt-sized rack hanging
Up in the ceiling of her bedroom---
She lowered it at each corner for quilting parties.
The ladies didn't have Facebook, twittering, tweeting,
Texting or twitching, but don't you imagine they were
Hoarse after a quilting party!?

I've always loved quilts!
They are one of the poetic group!

I keep most of my library on shelves down in the garage.
But up here, in this rough hammered-together old
Bookshelf, is  where I keep many favorites---many
Second and third reads---these are books for
"Attic-Reading!" Know what I mean?
"Cozy reading".... when the wind is howling
And my old favorite renegade mulberry branch
Is slapping the house in rhythm.

Henning Mankell's famous Swedish detective,
Kurt Wallander, had a branch like that just outside
His window,  and in that far-northern latitude,
Storms were constantly coming up and swaying
His light pole, and his branch was whacking the house.
There's a set of eight of Mankell's books you can check out

At a library.

I have one or two of them up here somewhere.
(See MIL'S Place: "GOODBYE, DEAR WALLANDER!")

Here's a rather simple but excellent book
That has been one of my favorites.
The author became a favorite.
Notice how beat-up it is.
The story behind it is this---
I had a very nice lady junior high librarian
As a client. She was in the office a few times
And I always try to learn things from knowledgeable people,
So we talked books.

One day she said: "There is a good book by a fine author,
Hal Borland, that we use in junior high but it is good
For adults as well. It is: 'HIGH, WIDE, AND LONESOME.'"

I got the book and you can see that is has been read many times!
In the book, circa 1912, the young Hal rides across Kansas
With his father, in their wagon, buying cheese and crackers,
At quaint rural general stores, as they head for Colorado
To file a claim for a homestead.
The homesteading years proved to be a challenge  for the family.
Blinding snowstorms required tying a line from the house to the barn.
Eastern Colorado prairie winds were almost unbelievable.

I loved the book the first, second, and third times I read it.
Then I read everything I could find on Hal Borland.
He became a  noted "nature" writer---for a big New York newspaper.
He wrote a number of books.
He later lived on a farm in Connecticut, and wrote about his farm,
In wintertime.

When he died, about twenty years ago, I wrote his wife
The warmest letter I could create.

There's a funny family story
Which always comes to mind when
I think of "High, Wide, and Lonesome!"
The year was 1972...we were a young family,
And about as poor as "Job's Turkey!"

We needed a new vehicle, and settled
On a new '72 Chevrolet Cheyenne pickup.
We headed out to Amarillo for Christmas---
All four of us riding in the front seat.
(The boys were young and skinny.)

The gist of this story is that we had just
Acquired Borland's book, "High, Wide..."
And the wife was reading it to the family...
Out loud---to pass the weary miles and avoid the
"Are we there yets?"

It got dark and we couldn't read anymore, so we sang
A couple of stanzas of a favorite hymn:
"Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling,
Calling for you and for me...
See on the portals he's waiting and watching..."
And about that time an urgent call of nature
Struck the kids, as it does in traveling families.
Often.

I pulled off the highway, around Vega, maybe
An hour's drive from Amarillo, into
A big borrow ditch with grass a foot tall.
As I stopped and hurriedly "de-pickup-ed"
To let the kid on my side out, our new
Pride-and-Joy Stanley Stainless steel vacuum bottle,
Half full of coffee, rolled out of the driver's side floor---
In the dark (of course), and rolled under the pickup.

Concerned at the moment with keeping
The younger boy off the highway,
I made a mental note to get a flashlight ("in a minute")
And retrieve this Stanley bottle---our first ever!

You are ahead of me, aren't you?
Yes, the next time I remembered that priceless thermos
Of ours, was in the outskirts of Amarillo!

Bob, I've never quite got over losing that bottle.
(In such a stupid way.)
The funny thing is...
That I have passed that same spot dozens of times
Over the years, and there has not been one time
That I didn't think of that night, years ago...
When we were young, the kids were young---
And we read "High, Wide, and Lonesome---"
Sang "Softly and tenderly Jesus is calling---
And lost our Stanley in the borrow ditch.

(In later years, I've even met old farmers, over there, driving
Old pickups along the highway, and said to myself:
"I'll bet HE has got MY Stanley in his pickup seat,
Half full of coffee!")

As they say, "Not to change the subject," and then
I'll change the subject! LOL.

I noticed you've been looking at my "Boater" hat
Hanging on that old hat rack over there...
It's a long story---see, that hat was big back
In the twenties and thirties, all over the world.
It may have been popular a lot earlier than that
For Mr. Barton used them in his "Naughty Nineties" musical

One year, at Clovis High School.
Mardis wore one in "I Remember Mama," the Senior Play.
My dad and uncle both wore boaters  in the late thirties.
Barbershop Quartets favored them!

Well, here is the last "attic whisper" of the day--- 

I saw one in a novelty catalog and bought it
(Impulsively) for thirty bucks. Shhh.... don't say nuthin'.

I have so much fun wearing this thing up here
In my attic!
Listen to my own 1920's megaphone-crooner's voice---
Just cup your hands around your mouth and
Get a nasal sound, like this:
"Win-ches-ter  Ca-the-dral...
You're break-in me Dow--ow--ow-n."
See, fun isn't it!? Here, wear my boater...
Try it! A little more nasal! There---you got it!

Well, time has passed...and I've done most
Of the talking. Don't you think, being around
One's life's-history-stuff sort of tends....
To loosen one's tongue?!

I did want to tell you something I remember about
Your mother; it happened nearly seventy years ago.
It's no big thing---just a nice little memory.

I was in your house dozens of times during those
Hot summers of the forties. Your mother was always
At work in the kitchen. She was a good cook
Sometimes we'd get great cookie or two!

I don't remember anything that was said all those times...
Except one time, and it is as clear in my mind as
Yesterday.

She was wearing one of those pretty, flowery "walk-into"
Aprons...her pressure cooker was sitting there on the
Cabinet, and I believe it held four or six quarts.
She was talking and working and three or four of us were
Watching, and something was said, and she said:
"Boys, you probably don't believe me and you can't realize
This at your age, but one day you will all be twenty-one
And grown."

Bob, it turned out, she was right.

Hey, there's one sardine left here---why don't you eat it?

I'll eat this piece of onion left here
and maybe improve my sardine-breath. LOL.

Hasn't this been fun!? Come back soon!!

********30*******
BY MIL
04/02/13


Sent from my iPad

FEELINGS OF ETERNITY

 

             

                    Have you ever heard
                    Of people having feelings
                    of Eternity?

I have read of it,
Now and then...
It happens most often
On mountain tops,
By the seashore,
Or around sand.

I've had feelings
Of Eternity
Before.

I know now that's
What it was.

That warm autumn afternoon
Down in sandy Dawson County
Out at Pop's Place,
Way back in the forties.

Standing there in his backyard,
Waiting for the others
To head for town
On a Saturday afternoon.

The sun was at an early
Afternoon angle...
The wind was blowing
Ever so gently...
But enough, to sway
The trees a bit
And rustle the ever-restless leaves.

Mom's roses, in the flower beds
Were happily drinking in the
Sunshine, and dancing
In the pleasant breeze.
Enjoying the fall...

Somewhere around in the trees
Birds were singing.

The shiny chrome milk buckets
Were hanging, and airing,
And swinging under the grape arbor
There in the backyard
Amongst still-ripening bunches
Of delicious-looking
Purple grapes!

The pigs were running loose.
Rooting around and making pig noises;
Big white chickens were roaming
About, puck-pucking, pecking, and
Looking for snacks.

The windmill, not thirty feet
From where I stood
Was pumping cool water up
Out of the sandy ground...
Making its lonesome
"Clung-clung" sounds.

Now and then, a gust of wind
A bit stronger than usual
Would cause a thin layer of
The beautiful reddish sand
To scurry and scoot across
Little banks and piles of sand
From previous winds---
With such grace and ease, that
It seemed to scoot with joy!

And I, leaning on Pop's
Old rock fence, my chin
Resting on my folded arms,
Waiting for the others---
Had this strange, mesmerizing
Feeling of peace and beauty...

          Maybe it was the wind---

          Maybe it was the light---

          Maybe it was the sand, sifting...

          Like the sands of time...

         Whatever it was...

          It seemed to me

That a piece of Eternity
Had fallen on Pop's Place
That day.

*********30********
BY MIL
5/12/13
Sent from my iPad

THE SOUNDS OF THE WIND

The language and sounds of the wind
Are not IN the wind. The sounds come
From the things it touches....
The swaying trees, and shimmering leaves---
The lapping and crashing waves
At the seashore---
The gentle sigh of wind in the pines---
The autumn leaves, scurrying
And rattling, along curbs---
The wind chimes, on the back porch
Playing unheard of
Melodies.

Oh, if our lives could be like
The spring winds---
Cool, refreshing, renewing,
Blowing like blessings on others...
Gentle encouraging breezes,
Caressing them with kindness,
Love, care, and concern,
Helping them along
The rough places of life---

Pushing them on their way,
And their lives, like the wind chimes...
Playing beautiful, unheard of
Melodies.

*******30******
BY MIL
5/09/13

Sent from my iPad

"THE DARING LITTLE ROBBER"

*****************************
MY FIRST POCKET KNIFE!
*****************************

My life has been of the stuff fit for a Hollywood tale! For you see, when I was two-and-a- half, I was a "robber," a "daring little robber!" I stole people's hearts! I was adept at it (evidently.) My grandad said I stole his heart...and he said it in song!

Read on and you will find out what I mean---and you will hear a story about old sandy Dawson County, Texas---and my beloved other grandfather---the singing one. We called him "Gran."

He was born in 1876 down around Jasper, Texas, in a rural area where in those days, abundant little streams and creeks were filled with fish. Like many Americans of rural America, he grew up to be a farmer and came out to Dawson County to grow cotton in 1905. Making a living on a farm was not for sissies; it was a daylight-to-dark proposition, and required all manner of work besides plowing the ground and picking cotton.

He was of Irish descent and his forbears had come to America sometime back in the 19th century and had landed in Virginia. For awhile an "O" was carried at the beginning of the surname, but was dropped eventually.

He and his wife, Emma, settled down about 20 miles north of Lamesa, a few miles from Pumpkin Center, and there began raising a family that grew to six kids. Feeding a big family in those days of the limited cash flow, could be a daunting task. You were your own welfare in case of a bad crop year. For supper (dinner was the Sunday noon thing), farm families would often make up a big batch of cornbread, and crumble it into sweet milk or buttermilk---in a big glass---and that was it! (Check it---the custom went back to Civil War days and beyond.) They called it: "Crumble-In."

If the family was a little tired of cornbread, Emma would make several pans of her "lard biscuits," which my dad said were the best in the world, and the family would eat farm sausages, biscuits, and Ribbon Cane syrup. Families bought syrup in those days by the gallon.

When the Spanish flu epidemic of 1919 hit the world, it also hit Pumpkin Center. At one point all eight in the family were down with the flu, there in their old drafty gray-wood farmhouse. Neighbors would come and knock on the door and leave a big pot of hot soup on the porch for the family.

My grandmother passed away when I was about four and so my memory of her is somewhat vague, but I believe she looked like Jane Darwell in "The Grapes of Wrath." She saved my life once when I had pneumonia and a terrible fever, and she came and looked me over and said: "Rub him from head to toe with rubbing alcohol, at once." They did it, and the fever broke. I remember it well, though I must have been about three. I think it was that smell that got me well--wow---it permeated.

Back out to Pumpkin Center---there was only the one little general store, and so you couldn't very well hook up the wagon and go three or four miles over and buy a sack full of hamburgers or get a couple of pizzas. In the first place, there was nothing like that available, and in the second place, all the cash flow there was---was likely in the "egg money" jar.

A trip to Lamesa, for major supply replenishment, happened only three or four times a year and took all day. The boys would shoot some rabbits, which were everywhere, clean them and sell them for a dime apiece in town. Thus everyone in the family could have a ten cent bowl of chili or a hamburger.

During his younger years Gran was noted throughout the area as a talented musician and singer. He taught "singing schools" and led the music for many church revivals. He had been raised in a Christian home. (His father was a tall handsome silver-haired man who could have been a movie star.)

Along about 1925, my grandad sold out his farm and moved to town and took up several business ventures. I made my grand entrance onto the planet in the thirties and he retired completely about that time and relaxed and took up tobacco chewing, being partial to Spark Plug tobacco.

Sleepy Lamesa, in those days, had a lot of uncurbed, unpaved streets throughout the neighborhoods They'd grade the sand out of the streets and the streets would be two feet below land level. When I was about two-and-a-half, Gran would walk the five blocks to my house, borrow me for the afternoon, and we'd walk the soft sandy streets back over to his house, searching for horned-toads the whole way.

There were a lot of them and we'd gently tie string around the neck of one and he'd join us for our walk. Later we'd give him a drink and turn him loose. Gran would sing little songs to me---sometimes maybe a hymn. We'd look for RED weeds all over his property. Those fascinated me. He'd sit with me and I'd play in the sand in the shade. We were big buddies!

About this time he wrote a song about me, which I didn't know about until forty years later when my aunt gave me a box of his musical compositions. It was called: "THE DARING LITTLE ROBBER." In it, he said I stole his heart. The song is stored somewhere in my attic.

One Christmas when he was about 75 and the whole family was together, someone asked him to sing for us, like old times. He sang:

"Leaning, leaning,
Safe and secure from all alarms;
Leaning, leaning,
Leaning on the Everlasting Arms."

All agreed---he hadn't lost it!

I never much liked his tobacco chewing/spitting when I was little, but I always liked to watch him take his pocket knife and cut a "chaw." He was deft at it! I must've eyed that knife with great coveting, because one day when I was about four, HE GAVE IT TO ME!!!! But oh....he had broken the blades off and filed the edges...it was too dull to cut butter---even. I was still proud of it, and a year later he gave me another one, also dulled but with a little bit of point.

I reckon the old-fashioned white-handled one could be nearing one hundred years old. (See photo)

He had found an old Barlow, also beat-up, but a definite improvement, and had taken it for his new chewin' tobacco knife!

He didn't know it but he had stolen MY heart with those two knives, which I still have, along with great memories of a fine, good-hearted and loving man!

********30********
BY MIL
5/08/13



Sent from my iPad

FROM THE BOOKSHELF

There were once plus/minus 4000 books in my library, on 22 shelves (and stacked on the floor), in my garage, while my car faded in the driveway. There are 500 fewer now, for as is wont with older folks, I am "downsizing." Not an easy task, giving away your friends of a lifetime---to strangers who might abuse them.

That said, to say this. I am often asked what are your favorite books? That is a hard one, since there are dozens and dozens of favorites. There are a few, however, that I will never forget.  Among perhaps my TOP TEN of all time are Victor Klemperer's (1881-1960) two books, I WILL BEAR WITNESS: A DIARY OF THE NAZI YEARS, 1933-1941 and  I WILL BEAR WITNESS: THE NAZI YEARS, 1942-1945.

A Dresden Jew, a veteran of WWI, a distinguished professor of the French Enlightenment, a man of letters and a historian of great talent and perception, Klemperer recognized the danger of Hitler as early as 1933. His diaries, written in secrecy, provide a vivid picture of life as it was in Hitler's Germany.

The New York Times said of Klemperer's account:  " in its cool, lucid style and power of observation, it is the best written, most evocative, most observant record of daily life in the Third Reich". ....." a work of literature..."

Quaint homespun snippets remain in my mind from reading these books---he and his wife finally got a little new "farmhouse" built in the suburbs, (only to eventually have it confiscated), they sat together at night and read books to each other, he finally learned to drive a car---only to have his license taken away by the Nazis. They somehow escaped concentration camps, perhaps because of her lineage, but wound up sharing a room with other Jews in a large apartment building, packed with Jews. After the bombing of Dresden, they managed to melt into a crowd of refugees, and thus survived the war.

******************************
I WILL BEAR WITNESS: A DIARY OF THE NAZI YEARS, 1933-1941

Amazon Review:

When the Nazis came to power in 1933, Victor Klemperer (1881-1960), honored as a frontline veteran of World War I, was a distinguished professor at the University of Dresden. A scant few months later he was merely a Jew, protected from deportation to a death camp only by his marriage to an Aryan. He suffered every other indignity to which German Jews were subjected, from losing his job to having his driver's license revoked to being denied permission to own a pet, and all are recorded with bitter clarity in his diary entries, which cover the years 1933 to 1941. (A second volume continuing through 1945 will be published in English in 1999.) The German edition of this book caused a sensation when it was published in 1995, and it's easy to see why: the relentless, quotidian nature of Nazi racism comes through forcefully in Klemperer's litany of daily humiliations and insults, a painful chronicle of situations in which readers can readily imagine themselves. Like Anne Frank, but with a more adult understanding of political fanaticism and human weakness, he makes the abstract horror of genocidal persecution very intimate, very personal, and very real. --Wendy Smith --

*******************************
I WILL BEAR WITNESS: A DIARY OF THE NAZI YEARS, 1942-1945

Amazon Review

The second volume of Victor Klemperer's searing diary, kept in secret during the 12 years he suffered under the Nazi regime, covers the period from 1942 to 1945. The humiliations visited on even such "privileged" Jews as Klemperer (whose wife was Aryan) grew increasingly severe, with house searches, arbitrary arrests, and brutal beatings becoming virtually routine. The 60-year-old historian is forced to shovel snow despite his heart condition; hunger gnaws at him as rations are mercilessly cut. Yet he clings to an intellectual life, continuing his reading and making notes on the lies and obfuscations of official Nazi discourse that would become his postwar masterpiece, Lingua Tertii Imperii. "The Russians, who have only just been annihilated, are tremendous and quite inexhaustible opponents," he notes sardonically after reading a mendacious fascist article in 1942. His lengthy account of his escape with his wife from Dresden after the Allied bombings of 1945 unforgettably captures the chaos of World War II's final days and the mixed feelings of a Jew who could never wholeheartedly gloat over the defeat of the nation that had persecuted him. Above all, his unflinching depiction of human nature and society in extremis amply justifies his cherished belief that even the Nazis "cannot prevent language from testifying to the truth." --Wendy Smith --
*******************************
You are in great luck! Both these volumes are in print and may be ordered from AMAZON!

Victor Klemperer

********30*******
BY MIL
5/06/13


Sent from my iPad

THAT VACANT LOT ON THE CORNER

That vacant lot
There on the corner, in Clovis
At 1100 Thornton, right north
Of Art's and Bob's house---
Was actually three lots,
Making one great big lot,
Ideally designed for little boys!

We about wore that lot clear out
In the forties!

There were no curbs and
There was no paving,
The dirt street just
Made our lot
That much bigger!

We never knew the owner.
We never even thought
About the owner.
It was just an empty lot---
A "finders-keepers-losers-weepers"
Deal---all the way!

We never paid rent.
And we didn't charge the owner
Anything, for keeping the weeds
Tromped down, and the lot
Free, of those vicious, e-VIL
Translers.

We played all kinds of stuff there!
We played marbles there.
We walked on stilts there.
We had rubber gun fights there.
We hit fly balls there.
And grounders...

We played catch there...
We kicked footballs,
We had races.
We fished for "translers"
With bubble gum there.

It was also our C.T.O.
(Clovis Theater of Operations)
As in E.T.O.
That means we fought WWII there.

We played "army."
We kept that lot clear of the enemy.
There's a picture of us, left to right,
James, Art, Mil, Bill and Bobby Joe!
Mean-looking, I know!

Bobby Joe, Art, and James had rifles.
I had my trusty .45 caliber pistol,
Indestructible--- solid black plastic!
My little brother---a reluctant draftee!
Art and James had WWII pot helmets
Like Van Johnson used to scramble eggs
In "Battleground."

We had B-17's flying around all the time
And on call if we needed them.

We dug two foxholes, then tunneled
Between them---a tight tunnel;
Could have collapsed, with one of us
In it... and casualties.

If we needed to "escape and evade"
The enemy...or the parents,
At the corner stop, for five cents
We could capture or commandeer
A "red-and-white" bus, that would
Take us down Thornton, Grand,
To Main Street and the Lyceum Theater!

Bob Hope didn't come to entertain
"The Troops" in the C.T.O.---
The beautiful movie star, Priscilla Lane
Lived a half a block away, and
We saw her often, driving by,
And imagined she was singing
To us.

One winter, it had to have been
The 1944-45 winter, it came a
Big snow, about the time
Of "The Battle of the Bulge."
We fought that battle and cleared
Our lot of the enemy!
And...

Are you ready for this?
Jake saddled his pony
In the barn, right south, across the street
And pulled us all around that lot
On our old knocked-together
Wood sled!

Kids we'd never seen before
Showed up from all around
for rides!

I think Jake, had more fun
Riding his horse and pulling us
Than even we did...
If that's possible.

Over the many, many years since---
I have passed that lot many times,
Always with fondest memories...
And one day I even parked on
The south side, and sat for a few minutes
Remembering, and seeing faces go by
Like in the movies at the end...you know...

It may be "gone" now with a house
On it,
But I don't think so.
I'm going to ask Country Boy Bob
To check it out for me!

Anyway, who'd want to waste it
By putting a house on it??

********30*******
BY MIL
5/03/13
Sent from my iPad

FROM THE BOOKSHELF

.***************************
"THE AIRMEN AND THE HEADHUNTERS"
by Judith M. Heimann
****************************
Called "the unlikeliest rescue of World War II," this is a true story of lost airmen and heroic tribesmen deep in the jungles of Borneo. It is a story of deep human interest--it will grab both male and female alike! It is one not to be forgotten. Written by a woman who spent seven years living in Indonesia, Malaysia, the Phillippines, including two in Borneo, she interviewed all living major players.

The author is also a career diplomat which likely accounts for her perceptive skills in seeing and reporting this story. Anyone who devotes this much time to research and writing deserves to be read! Written some sixty years after the events, it makes us wonder how many more stories are still out there--- about THE BIG ONE.

Amazon states: "November 1944: Army airmen set out in a B-24 bomber on what should have been an easy mission off the Borneo coast. Instead they found themselves unexpectedly facing a Japanese fleet---and were shot down. When they cut themselves loose from their parachutes, they were scattered across the island's mountainous interior. Then a group of loincloth-wearing natives silently materialized out of the jungle.

Would the tribesmen turn the starving airmen over to the hostile Japanese occupiers? Or would the Dayaks risk vicious reprisals to get the airmen safely home? The tribal leaders' unprecedented decision led to a game of hide-and-seek and, ultimately, to the return of a long-renounced ritual: the triumphant and bloody taking of heads.

A climactic survival story that features a bamboo airstrip built on a rice paddy, a mad British major, and a blowpipe-wielding army that helped destroy one of the last Japanese strongholds. "THE AIRMEN AND THE HEADHUNTERS" is a gripping, you-are-there journey into the remote world and forgotten heroism of the Dayaks." (Order from Amazon.)

("A riveting book!"---MIL)

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

"WHERE THE PAVEMENT ENDS" by Erika Warmbrunn
("One Woman's Bicycle Journey Through Mongolia, China, and Vietnam")
*****************************
In my lifetime of reading many hundreds of books, this one really grabbed me! It has to rank high in my "TOP" list. Imagine going off to a far country alone and fending for yourself. Imagine not staying in nice accommodations but setting out across country highways and byways with only a good bicycle, a small tent and a backpack---both riding on the back of your bicycle. Imagine having your good days and bad, but having to ride X miles a day, and then finding a place to stay for the night, preferring to sleep on someone's floor, rather than in the tent. Imagine doing all this---if you were a lady. And then---there's the food problem...

Erika Warmbrunn, age twenty-seven, lived in Seattle, but was not pleased with her progress as an actress. She chucked it all and of all things---embarked on an eight month solo bicycle trip through Mongolia, China, and Vietnam. On her journey she met all manner of people, often invited to spend the night and even sleep in the same beds with them. The people in a Mongolian village fell for her, built her a "ger," (a round tent- dwelling) and she spent some months teaching English in their school.

She was awed by the Great Wall of China and enjoyed her time hanging out with other young travelers and back-packers. By the time she reached Vietnam (from Irkutsk in Siberia to Saigon---5000 miles,) she was physically and mentally exhausted. She has left us with a splendid insight into peoples of other nations; she seemed to have preferred the Mongolians most of all.

One reviewer stated; "a thoughtful, honest, and insightful writing about the cross-cultural experience...a fine addition to public libraries; highly recommended."

("A great book!"---MIL)

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

*******30******
BY MIL
5/02/13
Sent from my iPad