"A FORTIES CHRISTMAS AT POP'S PLACE"

and ...A CHRISTMAS TODAY...

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

It has been a tradition in our family---dating back seven 

or eight decades---to do the big Christmas-present-

opening and related activities on Christmas Eve night.

At Pop's Place (he was my granddad),  SW of Lamesa, 

Texas  a few miles, all manner of happy things were

going on. The big Christmas dinner was always held

the next day, on Christmas Day.

A younger uncle was charged with getting all the little

kids together, and telling them stories they had heard

many times before--- "The Three Billy Goats Gruff,"

"Little Red Ridng Hood," "The Troll," and "Little Black

Sambo."

We went outside to shoot fireworks and being city

dwellers---with our eyes dulled by electric lights---

were amazed to see  the incredibly dark, black

sky...filled with millions of bright, vibrant stars,

all the while breathing in that pure fresh frosty

Christmas night air.

We shot up that big heavy paper sack full of fire-

works which Mom had bought us out of her egg

money. She stashed that sack, each year,  in the

same corner of the living room---out of the way---

there by the big ceramic white swan which she had

bought at a roadside stand, just outside Mineral

Wells...when returning home from a family reunion

in the piney East Texas country.

These fireworks, maybe bought even on Black 

Friday (before that inane day was even dream't of)

may have cost her five bucks....anything for the

grandkids!

What fireworks were in that big sack, which likely

would cost thirty dollars today?  One skyrocket, 

two Roman candles,  some erupting spray fountains, 

twirling streakers, Chinese firecrackers, red "Baby

Giants," some "torpedoes, and lots of sparklers.

On the farm there were plenty fresh eggs and egg

nog was a traditional holiday drink, to say the least,

and high priority with Pop. In the kitchen the ladies

had two bowls "working," and Pop lurking.

The kids were not supposed to notice the two bowls

or Pop as he clandestinely (he thought) drew a bottle

of Turkey Knob from somewhere in his bib overalls,

and flavored one bowl liberally!

I was a witness...I saw it all---as a kid, I never missed

anything...repeat....anything!

It came time later in the evening to open the presents.

All gathered in a circle around the living room using 

every chair that could be scrounged and  brought in.

Times  (the Great Depression, which hadn't really ended 

yet), were tough, and people had to be a

bit frugal with gift purchasing and giving. The gifts

reflected the times.

The farm boys might have received an Old Spice

Shaving kit, a subscription to LIFE magazine, or 

a Pendleton wool shirt, maybe  a western belt and

buckle, or even cowboy boots. A really much-loved

gift was a Stetson hat or even a Borsalino, out of

Italy. Parker 51 pens were popular if the boys were

heading off to college, or the military.

Little boys were more interested in what the men got

than women's things...which might have been a 

Sunbeam Mixmaster, or something like that.

NOW, TODAY'S CHRISTMASES----last night we read

memories of previous Yules,  some long ago, from

Donna's journal. Brian brought his concert guitar,

and he can play almost anything...and we sang: some

Simon and  Garfunkel, Peter, Paul, and Mary, Crosby,

Stills, Nash,and Young----

We sang "Where have you been Mrs. Robinson?" We 

sang "If you miss the train I'm on, you will know that

I have gone...you can hear the whistle blow a hundred

miles," and "The answer my friend is blowing in the

wind."   And oh, what harmony!

The big hit, which all people would have enjoyed, (as

we did), was "In The Village The Lion Sleeps Tonight.."

"A Weemaway, a Weemaway, ah..ah..ah...a Weemaway,"

and my boys and I were all singing in falsetto... Oh,

it was GRAND!

It was break time...and food time...and the choice was

Mexican---posole, tamales, enchiladas, tacos, chili

con queso and guacamole dip...and what else to drink

but ice-cold Diet Pepsis!

Then it was back to the tree for us and Silver Bells, I'm

Dreaming of a White Christmas, Chestnuts Roasting, and

Little Drummer Boy.  

We sang a lot of carols, including Joy To the World, The

First Noel, Silent Night, and O Come, All Ye Faithful.

The same two grandkids who read the Christmas Story,

years ago when they could barely read---now in their

twenties, read it once again, with a flow and feeling...

And then it was time to open the presents...the moment

all had been anticipating.

At Pop's Place Christmas,  in the late thirties and early 

forties,  there was never singing....people didn't do it 

much then...and WWII was coming on....

One thing in this world is certain---CHANGE---times

change...people change...Christmases change...but

the REASON for Christmas...never changes.

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

By Mil

Christmas Day, 2015

MERRY CHRISTMAS

"UNTIL THE FEVER OF LIFE IS OVER..."

"UNTIL THE FEVER OF LIFE IS OVER..."

A TIME. FOR REMEMBERING...

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

The Christmas season and the year's end are for

more than giving and getting. This is a good time

to look back and look ahead...

Somehow today my mind flashed back "through 

the mists of time," as they say to a time when I

was about thirty years old and workIng in Church

Music for the Baptists of New Mexico.

At the Inlow Church Camp for N.M. youth, we were

having a choral music week for young people ages

13-18.  It lasted each summer from Monday thru Friday,

and closed with a Friday morning concert of about 250

youth voices (and small orchestra) singing in the

rustic pine-log big open "tabernacle."

I had founded this camp and it was my "baby."

No cute little choruses and ditties for our kids---

this was the "real McCoy." We sang college-level

choral pieces that I cut my teeth on in A Cappella

Choir at Hardin-Simmons University.

To boot, we invited the top college and seminary

choral conductors, really---in the world.

The sounds of praise to our Creator echoed across

those Manzano Mountains. like had never been 

heard before. Two hundred-fifty kids, singing 

soprano, alto, tenor, and bass reverberated quite

impressively...and who knows...may still  be echoing

even today throughout the cosmos...

Here is what I remembered today---this morning 

during this ,Christmas time....

The camp is located on the east side of the 

Manzano Mountains, just west of Tajique,

and near the Fourth of July Campground,

(famous for its red oaks in autumn),...

That day, which I remember very well, tho'

it was 51 years ago,  I, being director of 

the camp-- needed to head  into Albuquerque

one afternoon to pick up some necessary

items---you. always run out of something...

Our excellent "choral clinician," Dr. Green,  

and our esteemed Camp Preacher, Dr. P.,

decided they wanted to ride into town with

me in my 1960 Chevy, the one with a lot of 

miles.  A "break" would do them good, they

thought.

We were on mountain Road 10 and halfway 

to town and Dr. P. said to Dr. G. (in discussing

the camp music):  "Paul, why did you choose "O

Lord Support Us All the Day Long."

It was not a a rousing,  fast-moving piece of

choral music by any means.

I'll never forget what Dr. Green replied---in a most

serious and sincere tone: "HAVE YOU READ THE

WORDS CAREFULLY? Then, as I drove, he recited

the brief piece from the right front seat:

"O LORD, SUPPORT US ALL THE DAY  LONG

      THROUGH THIS TROUBLOUS

             LIFE...

UNTIL THE SHADOWS  LENGTHEN

       AND THE EVENING COMES,

              AND THE FEVER OF 

                    LIFE IS OVER

              AND OUR WORK IS 

                     DONE.

THEN OF THY MERCY GRANT US A 

      SAFE LODGING AND. A 

             HOLY REST....

       AND PEACE AT THE LAST...

AND PEACE...AT...THE LAST."

(from Book  of Common. Prayer,  1928)

For several years, my office had requests

from "youth week music directors" out in 

the churches and even from adult church 

choirs to borrow this choral piece from our 

plentiful supply.

People have told me: "This is in my 'final

service' file."

Though my dear 250 Christian youth choir

members from that Music Camp (and the

camp still runs today) are somewhere around

ages 63-68, and I see one now and then, but

don't recognize them---I have never heard of

any of them rioting, burning buildings, being

drunk, or going to prison.

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

BY MIL

MIL'S PLACE

December 23, 2015

A Christmas Piece

THAT MOST WONDERFUL BOYHOOD COIN

  It was the most magnificent and beautiful coin in the world

  to me, a little boy aged five, in 1939 !! You might say it was the

  most miraculous thing I had ever seen. It had power!

  Why if you could just get possession of one, you could buy

  all kinds of sweets with it down at the candy store! You could 

  even get five cent potato chips, Planter's peanuts, and Tom's

  four crackers with peanut butter.

  Right north of the Clovis State Theater, was a little greasy 

  spoon that sold hamburgers for five cents....even if they came 

  with only small meat, smear of mustard, catsup, and small piece 

  of dill pickle.

  The Red-and-White Store, at about 521 West Grand in old Clovis

   had all kinds of nickel candy in its display case---Hersheys,

   Snickers, Baby Ruths, Black Cows, Paydays, Bit O' Honeys,

   O Henrys, Heath bars, packages of red hots or licorice....

   Mounds and Almond Joys (with coconut) were TWO  nickels

   as well as "plumgranites," which were sold only at the little store 

   across Thornton Street from La Casita School.

   A nickel would also buy us a soda pop...and we leaned toward

   (at that tender age) BARQ'S BIG ORANGE or their ROOT BEER;

   Delaware Punches with grape flavor and no FIZZ--- grapes, limes,

   and we rarely tested out those too-strong little 6 1/2 ounce Coca

   Colas in the fascinatingly-shaped light green bottles.

   As we little kids reached six, seven, eight...Pepsi Cola became a 

   favorite...they even had a jingle on the radio: 

        Pepsi Cola hits the spot

        Twelve full ounces, that's  a lot!

        Twice as much for nickel too,

         Pepsi Cola is the drink for you...

         Nickel, nickel, nickel

         Rubi-dot dot ta...!"

    We succumbed to advertising, and any time we could put 

    together TWO nickels we would buy a Pepsi and peanuts...

    and what else---pour the little sack of peanuts into the 

    Pepsi!  Its main drawback was that it was TOO much

    drink at twelve ounces---for little kids!

    As we got older and mowed lawns for a hot hour in the

    100 degree summertime, we amassed some change in 

    our pockets @ fifty cents a lawn...and had a few Mercury

    dimes and maybe a Walking Liberty half dollar, along with 

    our buffaloes, jingling in our pockets, for a movie and 

    popcorn, or a Gene Autry funny book. Now and then a 

    ten cent WWII SAVINGS STAMP.

    Those were splendid times, though hard on the nation,

     and even little boys....but it was a great country, a great

     time to come on the planet...and who CAN EVER FORGET

     THAT MOST BEAUTIFUL AND LOVED COIN OF ALL---

      THE "BUFFALO NICKEL ?"   I WON'T....NOT EVER....

      *********************

       BY MIL

       CHRISTMAS SEASON 2015

'THE JEEP ON 2"

Bobby Joe Snipes

CHS '53

I was watching the high lights of the Texas vs. Texas Tech game and the announcer said that TT was lined up in a “Victory Formation”.   There was about 2.5 to 3 minutes left in the game.   I had never heard of a victory formation but I assumed that it was a kneel down formation to run out the clock.  All players were bunched up with a running back(Grant) setting up close to the center inconspicuously.  When the ball was hiked, the ball went to Grant, he ran left close to the line.   The QB and RB ran to the right leaving the appearance that the play was to the right.  This faked the Texas defense and Grant, who is very fast, ran up the side line (dodging a couple of secondary Texas tacklers) for a touchdown.  Grant later said that the name of the play was “Hook’em” and they just added it this week. 

Now this reminded me of a high school football game between CHS Jr. Varsity and Tucumcari.   Tucumcari had a good team, big linemen and fast backs.   I do not know this for sure but I think the CHS coaches realized that Tucumcari would outclass our Junior Varsity really bad.  Consequently, they decided to send some of the “A” team reserves to kinda even the match and get some experience for the reserves.  

I don’t remember all of the reserves but I do remember that Johnny Hamilton, Dwayne Perry and I were three of the reserves that were to make the trip.  We had not practiced with Jr. Varsity but we were familiar with all of the basic plays.  Dwayne and Johnny were very fast and elusive and I was slow as a snail but would try to run over a truck.  

I don’t remember scores but I think we were behind at the half.  We didn’t have a punter so Dwayne punted when needed.   Dwayne was the QB and we kinda held our own even though our timing was all out of sync. 

At the half Coach Manning went over our short comings both offensively and defensively.   Coach Manning had the will to win and came to CHS from W. Virginia.....I think.   In his effort to pump us up, give us some confidence and assurance to win he said “Now we are going to have a new play this second half”.   He diagramed the play on the chalk board.   He said we call it “THE JEEP”!    He said “Johnny,  you line up right behind the left guard and stay low.....Dwayne, you take the snap from  the center and tuck the ball in Johnny’s gut.  Bobby, you flare right and Dwayne will fake a pitchout to you.  Johnny, you just stay low and look for an opening”.   Coach Manning walked us through the play.....the half was over......time to go and he says “Lets go”.  

All of us guys loved to play football,,,,,we loved to hit as hard as we could and didn’t mind taking a hit.   The second half rocked on and we held our own....they scored and we scored.  We were behind and then Coach Manning sent in the play.....run The Jeep.    Dwayne called the play......”The Jeep on 2”.   We lined up with anticipation and a little doubt.....we were just doing what coach Manning told us to do.   The play was flawless and even though it did not go for a touchdown, we did make a first and 10.   Did we win?????   Yes, we won the game!    CHS  Jr. Varsity defeats Tucumcari.  Long live The Jeep!

Bobby Joe Snipes, CHS '53

For Mil's Place, 12/10/15

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

Response by Robert Stebbins, CHS '51

Bob....Enjoyed your Jeep story.  I can still see Coach Manning romping around Wildcat stadium during practice in those old grey sweatpants and sweatshirt that he wore.  Or, him in the Junior High gym with Bill Stockton whipping the guys into shape for another win.  And, I believe you are correct...that he was from West Virginia. Your story is a keeper, and should be on Mil's Place.  Hope all of you had a nice Thanksgiving and didn't run out of turkey.  Robert

CAUTION----WIMMIN' MAY GIVE AWAY YOUR STUFF!

CAUTION---WIMMIN' MAY GIVE AWAY YOUR STUFF

MY OLD COLLECTOR'S MINNOW BUCKET WAS 

   WORTH FIVE BILLS! EASY!

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

Boys, there's no getting around it---the old planet

would be 95% less interesting, challenging, and 

exciting without our wimmin'.

Without them, it would hardly be worth it at all. 

Just the LILT in their voices, when they talk and

laugh is almost miraculous...and have you ever 

noticed the glee with which they greet each other 

at the door, say? Amazing. A genius bit  of creation!

And what about their baking...yes Boys...BAKING!!

Have you ever been pooped out in the fall from 

Saturday chores and you've settled in with football

and your team is down 49-3 and your woman 

glides into the room and announces: "I suddenly

got the 'baking urge' and am making a BIG PAN

of BROWNIES!!!"

VOILA, EUREKA, PINCH ME BOYS! A MIRACLE.

Like: "The moment we men were put here on Earth

for!"

Ah, but there's always a little (or big) drawback

with baking. Somehow at creation, the baking 

gene and the philanthropic gene in wimmin' got

intertwined...

ERGO: BAKE...AND GIVE IT AWAY. "You can 

have a big piece and then I'm taking the rest over 

to Mildred, whose dog has been sick for a week!

She has had a hard time."

All that being said...it gets worse! All my stuff is 

disappearing! It's true.First thing ya know, I myself

could disappear. If spring cleaning keeps coming

around, I won't have any stuff left.

That's why my attic is important. So far, it has 

escaped the loss of stuff. The old beat-up USMC

K-Bar stickin' right there in the side of the bookshelf

seems to stake my claim on my whole cozy heaven-of-

a-room---as if a sign were saying: "UP HERE, HANDS

OFF---IT'S ALL MIL'.S STUFF!"

As in: "DON'T EVEN TOUCH MY SPAM," if'n you run 

out of hors d' oeuvres at the wimmins' party, 

downstairs!

You think I'm blowing smoke? Well, my beloved DUCK

decoys, covered with dried Rio Grande mud are 

gone...Gary got 'em. (a good guy--Gary)  But those 

decoys were more'n  plastic ducks---they were friends 

and we remembered old wading times together---talkin' 

up there in the attic...when I was agile, and could wade 

the old river, quicksand and all---loaded with stuff...But 

alas, they're gone...a piece of me...

Then there were the newly-leather-upholstered 

stadium seats, that we sat on until they wore out, 

and were re-done---watching our son Alan kick field 

goals for UNM on many cold, (and one snowy,) 

Saturdays. Ah yes,  that stadium climb got to be too

much for me...the church sold our seats for missions...

What about my dozen hunting arrows, all racked in

a carrier, ready to climb five thousand feet into the 

Manzano Mountains and hunt deer or call coyotes... 

they went to charity...

My two once-excellent office chairs, with the web 

upholstery...well the hydraulics slipped on both of

those comfortable made-in-China chairs...and I was

gonna fix 'em both someday...and they sat on the

back patio covered with a tarp...and one went to

charity...and who knows...did a hobo get the other?

Some guys I know have LOST practically brand new

stuff at spring cleaning time...not to be critical here,

but it pays to be alert.

But what would we ever amount to without our 

wimmin'---the joys of the world.

They can't help it. Their very genes cry out against

STUFF! And that's okay, but please, not just MY

stuff!

Boys, just a tip. Keep an eye on your new TONY

LAMAS...and your BUCK KNIFE!

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

Glossary---WIMMIN'...an extremely endearing term,

  thought to have originated in Florida, USA--- which

  elevates the fairer sex to its highest pedestal,

   far above "women" or "ladies." It is practically

   a term of worship.

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

BY MIL

MIL'S PLACE

12/06/15

...with a modicum of 

   humor...

"HAVE A SPAM CHRISTMAS"

"SPAM MATTERS"

Ah, in a brotherly and forgiving spirit, may we hope that

this will be THE YEAR when "Spam-bashing" becomes

history...and all the naysayers see the light!

Can't you just visualize that famous scene in AIRPLANE

in which the passengers were lined up in the aisle, awaiting

with hammers, hatchets, Stillson wrenches and whatall to

bash some sense into the pussilanimous-panicking-

passenger.

To knock sense into Spam-haters, I visualize a more-humane

treatment...like the old backhand back-and-forth, back-and-forth

facial slap...until you hear the famous movie line: 

"THANKS...I NEEDED THAT!"

SPAM deserves some reverence...some appreciation...some

RESPECT. After all, how could we have won WWII without 

it. Yes, we have discussed this before.

Time to tell APPLE to take a hike and dump their derogatory

iPad terminology "SPAM" for that junk column. Insulting! Got 

any ideas for them?

I'da never made it through that semester at Southwestern

Seminary one of the summers I studied there--- without 

Spam...for you see, money was short and I lived on Spam 

and home-fried potatoes...yum...yum. the whole time..

You are saying "Well, I've been there and done that

Spam and potatoes---NO GOOD!"  This is not new to

me---I've heard it before. Don't you get it? YOU FORGOT

THE KETCHUP!!! Plain and simple....It was: THE 

KETCHUP!

"Not to" interject a negative here, but you know the 

scariest thing I've ever seen in my life? It was Raley's

Supermarket, when they closed in circa 2012 (a mile

down the street from us.)

They had a "sell-out" sale, and the third week I dropped

by for old time's sake---one last time---and guess what.

THE SHELVES WERE EMPTY. (You don't want to see

it, trust me.) Oh, a few mops and brooms and dented 

tomato juice cans, and whatever.

When global warming melts Antarctica and Mexico goes

under water and the grocery shelves empty (or when

the dollar fails)  don't expect to walk into a store and

find four or five cases of Spam stacked nicely in the

vast empty shelves....and load up your basket...the 

guy ahead of you did...already... 

Yes sir, Spam will be the first thing to go, along with

tuna, Wolf's Chili, Hormel Tamales, and Sardines

a'floatin in tomato sauce...plus all the canned fruit...

Just say'in...

A friend of mine, who has traveled in Hawaii

a lot, tells me that over there they LOVE

SPAM---why he went to a luau in which they

had a 70 pound fake pig made out of SPAM!

I ask you, doesn't that sound...just marvelous?!

As to stockpiling, I try to avoid it...somewhat...

In WWII they called it "hoarding." But I do

have a coupla cases stored in my attic. If an

emergency arises, I could spare you a few 

cans, maybe...

As far as a hint for any Christmas present 

for ole Mil this year----well, I think you know

WHAT I LIKE!

May you too...HAVE A SPAM CHRISTMAS!

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

BY MIL

DECEMBER 10, 2015

"MERRY CHRISTMAS"

"IT'S AUTUMN-TIME IN THE ATTIC AGAIN"

Somehow or other, no matter how fine an attic a fellow has---

how cozy and well-stocked it is---with man-food---books and 

stuff, he is not so much drawn to hang out up there in the 

summertime.

He may have his little former-office-fridge stocked with V-8's,

Diet Dr. Peppers,  Lemon-Tea Snapples, and a few  $2.00

Delaware Punches (imported from 'Mexico) ----

He probably has filled in his rustic-little-garage-sale-beat-up-

shelf with Dinty Moore Beef Stew, Wolf Chili, Hormel Tamales,

Vienna sausages, sardines in tomato sauce, canned clams,

peanut butter, coupla onions, a box of Ritz crackers, and a can

of Spam!

Attics are good cold-weather-places. They are good places to

listen to the winds, whipping outside around the corners of the

house!

If you are a good listener, you can learn things by listening to 

the wind. I have done so...many times. The wind speaks of

long, lost...and lonely things...old times, old days....it doesn't 

really explain---you have to fill in the blanks...

That day, recently, the "tail-end" of the Indian Summer days,

the big white fluffy clouds were scurrying by on a cold north

wind. It was making moaning sounds and the old pesky

mulberry branch was beginning to whop the house, right

under the attic window.

I headed up to my cozy place, put on my Duluth Operation-

Market Garden "fire hose" jacket, (and cap), turned up the

heat a bit, and ensconced myself right by the window with

my Staples pad....time to write my annual autumn poem!

I could see well out the window...up and down our street!

The wind was getting up and blowing strange things down 

the street....the multi-colored leaves were hurrying 

along sidewalks and curbs...rolling all over each other,

noisily, like puppies at play.

I began my poem...

"WHAT IS THERE ABOUT AUTUMN?!"

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

O it's the cool refreshing air

     after the dog-days 

of summer

It's the gentleness of the

     Indian Summer light

It's the first norther rattlin'

     the eaves...and the leaves

It is the colors of the leaves,

    Oh yes!

Oranges, browns, golds, olive,

    faded greens, red oaks,

teal, light yellow, purple...

Autumn is excitement!

     Piles of orange pumpkins

galore, at little markets,

    and big...

The smell of green chiles roasting

     has wafted to our neighborhood

all the way from Wyoming...

    Ah, how fragrant!

Football is going big time, and the

      Lobos are a miraculous

six and four!

My old hunting and fishing boots

    over in the corner, under

the 3/4 bed, need to he oiled

  and readied for winter.

-----

Uh oh, my poem about fall ended

     right there....

It began snowing suddenly, and soon

there were five inches on the ground.

I sat open-mouthed and watched, with the

wind, getting colder all the time,  wafting into

my face through the one inch ventilation 

crack at the bottom of the window, where

I sat, writing.

Wow! Is this great or what? Bye, bye, autumn...

and hello winter!

I'm opening my can of Spam and slicing an

onion! To celebrate! Maybe a Delaware Punch

to wash it down! Fun, fun!

It's a great day! There is always something

grand about attics...and storms...and wind...

and especially snow!

....and that miracle of...SPAM!

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

By Mil

11-17-15

A STILLNESS AT POP'S PLACE

Today, there is a great stillness

    at POP'S PLACE,

down in the "land of cotton,

     where I was born in..."

("Look away, look away...")

Down in sandy Dawson Co. Texas.

It stands there today...like some

   "banquet hall deserted..."

All the people who once gathered

   for fun, farm-happy times...

are gone

Except for four of five

   of the youngest. but even

they---are aging...

Alas, much of the once-splendid

   new farm from 1938...

has disappeared.

The finest rock fence is gone...

   Even the three car garage is gone...

        The elm windbreak and

the rows of elms around the house,

   are gone.

          The grape arbor is gone,

and the rose garden...

Worst thing---there is no more windmill

   with its homey gentle clang--

clangs... as if speaking of untold things

   on  warm fall afternoon

breezes...

The outbuildings remaining-- need paint...

The house itself stands lonely-like,

   but refurbished with brick...

so it will last, physically---

But its heart may be another story,

   It is like an old devoted dog,

left behind...but faithfully waiting.

There is almost an ache about the

   eighty-year-old house

as it sits there, alone, month after

   month, year after year....

A certain wistfulness hangs over

   the big empty dining room

table, with the withered flowers

   in the vase from some 

unremembered time...

Hearty, laughing times---

   Coffee, ham, sausage and

eggs, biscuits and gravy, grits

   floating in butter...

Farm suppers, when the company 

   came...grandma brought 

out the red-checked oil cloth  and

   had fried chicken, mashed

potatoes, black eye peas, corn-on-

   the-cob, fried okra, squash,

corn bread, cantaloupe, and 

watermelons...

A hand-cranked freezer of ice

   cream, right off the farm...

maybe strawberry..or peach!

Then the unforgettable holiday

   dinners...with turkey and

corn bread dressing...

But the farm house and the 

   dining room are all silent

today...the sounds of happy

   conversation, jokes, 

laughter, and fellowship

  gone...tho' maybe still

echoing through the universe

  somewhere...

The folks are  gone, all but

   three or four ----

they're now resting eternally in

   a half-dozen places.

surrounded by green grass,

   rocks, and flowers...

We open the window in the 

   always cozy front BR,

and the sheers billow out,

    as the fresh breeze blows

through the old house...

Ah, the wind senses the stillness

  of POP'S Place, today,

and THE WIND...it always seems

   wise...and knows things...

a lot of things...

And it seems to be whispering...

something.

+++++++++

BY MIL

JULY 5, 2015

ONE LAST TIME....THE RED BRICKS OF MAIN STREET

"ONE LAST TIME...."

THE RED BRICKS OF MAIN STREET
***********************
O, I've never been to London or Paris
     Elephant. Island, or Tierra del Fuego--

Nor have I visited Shackleton's grave
      on S. Georgia Island, or seen
the Galapagos Islands....

I've never been to Cabo San Lucas, or
      seen the piranhas play in the
Amazon River.... or been to

Fiji, Tahiti, Guadalcanal, Espiritu Santo,
     Christchurch, Sydney, Alice Springs,
or Perth.

Unknown to me are Krakatoa, Corregidor,
     Bataan, and Leyte Gulf...

As well as the. Strait of Malacca, Singapore,
      Iwo Jima, and Okinawa....

The cool climes have also been a mystery---
     Sitka, Reykjavik, King's  Bay, Oslo,
and Ystad---

It is a bit late in life to aspire to be---
     A WORLD TRAVELER.

But there is one more trip, I must make.

I want to GO HOME to Clovis....
     and breathe that fine air...
Drink that delicious water....
     Hear the trains at night. clinking and
clanging, and Choo-Choo-ing,
     and releasing the spewing steam...
as they did in the forties....

I want to drive by where our La Casita stood...
     Go by 1100 Reid, (our nice new WWII house),
and by Bob's at 1020 Thornton... and on
     up toward where Todd's house stood
at the corner of Thornton and Fourteenth...

I want to head west on Fourteenth, down
      to the old dry lake bed, where we
played and gathered used tires and scrap
      iron to help win the war.

Then back toward town on W. Grand, and
     pass where our  Magic Steam
Laundry stood at 417, where so many
     US soldiers got the cleanest uniforms,
and looked sharp....

On by Jake's OK Rubber Welders, a true
      landmark, along with the Country Store...

Oh, I mustn't bore you young 'uns who
     weren't there and missed some great,
but tumultuous times----

I'll drive all over town, even thru the
     underpass which was half-full
of water in 1941....

I will park in front of Woolworth's and
     get Bobby Joe to walk Main Street
with me---I'll make it, with my cane...

We'll linger in front of Barry Hardware,
     and maybe set a spell on the curb,
in front of our old favorite ---Lyceum Theater...

Then I'll get into my pickup and drive up
     and down Main Street, thinking
of past times, and those classmates
     who are departed....and won't be

dragging again...

And to my heart's content, I'll drag
     up and down Main Street, over
and over...

Passing over those beloved red bricks...
     one last time.
******************
MILS PLACE
BY MIL
6/17/15

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 recently 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

MY OLD STRIPED ROBE

In a way, house robes were not conceived 

    primarily for men...

Only the fairer sex can do them justice.

They seem to be  just the thing for women---

    with their striking, flattering colors...

Blue robes, pink robes, red ones!

    Turquoise,  yellow, green!

Fluffy ones, silky ones, good old chenille!

Yes, a woman wears them well, and makes

    'em look amazing!

Now a guy, in the nature of things

    may just sit around, early or late,

in Levis and a T-shirt, or

     cargo pants and a Henley.

If it gets cold, he may throw on his old

    red-and-black plaid Alaska flannel shirt---

the one that's soft and warm and faded---

    with a hole in the right elbow.

Ah, but that freezing-February of 2012---

    That awful time...when a terrible cold

laid me low for days...seemed like forever...

   Well, not being a robe guy---I didn't

have one...

And I needed all the tender loving care...

    and. warmth and caressing 

a big old soft fuzzy robe would bring!

My beloved wife felt real bad for me...

She came out dressed spiffy, her purse 

    over her shoulder and said:

"I'm headed done to see Walter at the

   BIG-and-TALL Men's Store. I'll be back."

She was gone...just like that.

Off she went, 'bout five miles down...

    on Menaul, a nice friendly store.

The boys knew her there.

"What in the world is SHE UP TO?" I thought.

Why she went in there (I found out) and said:

    "Give me the softest, thickest, warmest

robe in the house in 3XT---It's for my man---"

    "He's sick!"

They looked. "Ma'am, we've got only one in 

     that size---a BLACK STRIPED ONE."

"Wrap it up, I'll take it."

And she came in the door, and up to me,

     smiling, and proud of herself, 

handed me a big box...and said:"Git this on!"

It was the softest, warmest robe one could 

    ever imagine!

A marvelous, ugly (?) robe. And it is already

    in use, this year, now that it's cold these 

mornings.

It has become a BEST FRIEND

    just like HER.

(I catch her wearin' it, sometimes.)

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

BY MIL

October 16, 2015

"WHAT IS THERE....ABOUT A '41 CHEVROLET?"

"WHAT IS THERE....ABOUT A '41 CHEVROLET?"

A WORLD WAR II MEMORY

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

What is there

    about

         an old '41

             two-door

                  dark blue

                      Master Deluxe

                          CHEVROLET

                               Sedan?

With a top speed

   of maybe

        seventy 

            mph?

I'll tell you what there is

    but you won't understand...

Because you weren't there.

No one can understand those awful

    WWII TIMES...

Who wasn't there.

For you didn't gather

    old tires, old papers and magazines,

          pots and pans, rusty iron,

               and bacon grease 

                     to help win the war!

You didn't know

     Gold Star Mothers, wounded GI's.

          like from "The Bulge..."

You didn't hear the twenty-four hour

     sounds, bumping and clanging---

          of troop trains, trains loaded

               with tanks and ammo,

                   passing thru the 

                      Clovis Train 

                         Depot....

You never knew the wonder and excitement

    small boys felt, for four years, seeing

         B-24 Liberator Bombers, and 

             later B-29's constantly droning

                 around the outskirts

                         of town...

You didn't build model airplanes of P-40's,

    P-38's, Corsairs, Thunderbolts,

        or B-17's...or mow lawns to 

             buy ten cent War Stamps.

Maybe you've never heard of or know of...

    ---food rationing---coffee, sugar, meat...

         ---shoes, clothing, gasoline, tires...

Ah, but THAT CAR---the old '41 Chevrolet

    remembers---it lived through it all,

        right with us...a faithful servant.

It likely remembers all the short trips...

    all that there were gasoline for---

        trips to Grandma's and 

            fishing trips to the 

                 Pecos!

It remembers what "shortage of parts"

     and the term "recaps" meant.

It was used to being "tromped" on by the

   kids in the back seat...

"Are we there yet?"

The kids, in turn, had that car memorized...

    The fuzzy neutral gray/brown 

        upholstery---the dash, the gauges,

             the speedometer, the clock (it

                 never worked), the heater 

                    knob, the glove 

                         compartment!

It even had a starter...on the FLOOR!

Yes! We kids remember that good old wartime

    car, and its faithfulness--- wherever it is...

         today.

It, and cars like it, non-descript and perhaps

   drab by today's standards----blue, black,

       tan, maroon, or green--- got the nation

            and the people through a 

                 GREAT TRIAL.

I hope that old Chevy, wherever it is, has been 

    collected, restored inside, repainted, 

        and maybe remembers us!

And maybe it finally got a carburetor...

that works.

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

BY MIL

4/06/15

THINKING TODAY ABOUT DORA RUSSELL

Dora M. Russell

"THINKING  TODAY ABOUT DORA RUSSELL"

.......by Albin Covington

I got to thinking today about Dora Russell at old CHS. 

She was my homeroom teacher as well as Spanish 

teacher.

Years ago when I was in the Navy, I was aboard ship

with my brother Ross. We used to talk Spanish so guys

there didn't know what we were taking about. That was 

one thing that I was especially grateful for!

I have forgotten most of my Spanish now, but I do recall

once when I was glad to know it.

I was preaching at a church in Oklahoma, driving a school

bus, and also supplying as a substitute teacher. Hardly

anyone there knew any Spanish. There was a Mexican family 

that moved into this small farm community. Their kids spoke

perfect English but enjoyed using Spanish to sort of aggravate 

the other students.

One day I was asked to sub for a class. I went in at the time

the Mexican boys were giving the others a hard time---in

Spanish.

I set my books on the desk, after having overheard some of

the lingo...and in Spanish uttered loudly...one of Miss Dora 

Russell's favorite expressions--- "CALLATE Y SIENTATE!"

"BE QUIET AND SIT DOWN!" (A more literal translation could

be "SHUT UP!" Of course Miss Russell always said it with

a twinkle and much love in her heart for her students.)

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

When we all graduated from beloved old Clovis High School

in May if 1951, I went to work for the the ATand T; SFRY as a

"signalman apparent." I was on a gang which traveled from

place to place installing and maintaining railroad signals at

crossings and other places.

In the fall we went to Artesia, N.M. to install crossings signals

just south of town. We had a flatbed truck that we used to

haul our equipment.

One morning we loaded a large reel of cables on the truck,

along with our tools and three of us grunts. The reel should 

have been secured---but it wasn't.

As we headed south of town and turned off the highway, the

reel rolled toward the back of the truck. I grabbed a Pock

handle and stopped it---a dumb move since we were almost

to our work site!

When the driver turned the corner---a bit too fast---the reel

started over the side of the truck...taking me with it! When I 

hit the road, my left leg hit the pavement very hard.

My friends somehow summoned a doctor out of Artesia.

This elderly M.D.---a Dr. Russell, arrived and took me in 

his car to the hospital and then to a clinic. The clinic was 

in the doctor's house.He said my leg was not broken---just 

skinned-up and bruised.

I noticed a picture there on his desk. I was sure that there

couldn't be two people who looked like that! I asked him

if that was Miss Russell. "Yes," he said. I asked if she was

his sister. He replied: "No, she is my daughter."

We sat and chatted for a time and then he drove me out to

our railroad bunk car.  The next day he even drove out

to check on me and see how I was doing.

When I got back to Clovis, I went by and told Miss Russell

about my experience and she got a great kick out of hearing

all about it!

Many years later, I was on the staff at the college  in Artesia

and I was talking to the head of the nursing home there in 

town one day---and mentioned that I was from Clovis---he 

then asked me if I knew Dora Russell.

He then told me she had been in the home there for years.

and she had just passed away that week. I wish I had known.

(It'd be nice if I could remember Spanish as well as I do 

historic events.)

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

FOR MIL'S PLACE

By Dr. Albin Covington, CHS '51

Guest Writer

October 17, 2015

A BALLOON FIESTA IN CLOVIS??

Scotty Snipes and Jake Snipes

by Bobby Joe Snipes, guest writer

It was 1981 when ballooning was gaining popularity and was both beautiful, exciting and amazing.   You didn’t see hot air balloons around Clovis like you did in Albuquerque, the capital of hot air ballooning.  In the traditional festive spring season in Clovis we always look forward to Pioneer Days which included the rodeo and parade and numerous old pioneer events and recognition of our western heritage.   

But in 1981, the Clovis Chamber  of Commerce decided to ad a balloon fiesta to the activities.   This was to be a two day event with an invitation to local businesses to sponsor a balloon. 

They received 12-13 commitments from balloon owners  around Albuquerque to attend the fiesta.  The reason for the sponsorship was to #1—for the business to pay $100 to the balloon owner and #2—provide a chase vehicle and crew to help with the balloon in ascension and landing.  

Well that sounded like a lot of fun so we sponsored two balloons,,,,,,one for Bob’s Mr. Shop and the other for Lady You Nique.   I do not remember much about the balloon sponsored by Betty’s store, Lady You Nique but this story is about Bob’s balloon.  

The week of the event I was out visiting with my parents,,,,,just visiting and I was telling them about the Balloon Fiesta.   Just off  the top of my head I said “Hey Dad,  would you like to go up in a balloon....you could ride with Scotty”.   He thought for just a second and his eyes brightened up and he said “yeah, I would like to do that”. 

I wasn’t really surprised because Dad always enjoyed life and was a fun loving type person.   Scotty, our son, was 17 and Dad was 75 and it never entered my mind that this could be a little risky.

All preparations were made....balloonist arrived in town Friday evening.....meeting and instructions planned for about sun up Saturday morning.   Each balloon had a banner on it with the businesses’ name.   We met in a large vacant area just north of the new hospital which was west of town.  They monitored the weather closely.   Wind speed was light from the SW and they forecast a beautiful day with maybe a little breeze later in the day.

Everything was go....balloon off of the trailer..... unroll and spread out the balloon(man those things are big)....hook up the gondola....fire up the propane burner.....lean the gondola over to start the gas in the balloon....be careful.....hold the balloon opening up....don’t burn the balloon and she starts filling....bigger and bigger and bigger and she starts standing up.  Grab the tether rope....hold on,  hold on....a couple of you grab hold of the gondola.....get the first passengers in....that was Dad and Scotty and that added some extra ballast to hold the balloon down.  The pilot was a lady and she turned that burner on full blast and that balloon crept up into the wild blue.  What a thrill.

We were all helping with the balloon....excited about the ride with visions of a slow lofty ride into the silence of where the birds fly, hearing nothing but the frequent blast of the propane burner to adjust the height of the balloon.  The plan was to take several people up for a ride with the pilot setting the balloon down every mile or so and changing riders. 

But almost instantly our plans changed.   The gentle breeze turned into a brisk wind....much to strong for ballooning....woe....those balloons began to move fast.  We all jumped in the pickup and took off....the problem being that the balloon did not follow the section roads...and we had to. 

It was the chase crew’s responsibility to try to move ahead of the balloon and help stop the balloon when it was landing and hold it while they changed passengers.  The plan was to set down south of Ned Houk Park.   We drove up the Grady HI way at speeds you wouldn’t believe, trying to catch that balloon.  Betty was screaming at me to slow down, everyone was scared to death and the balloon flew on and on and on.  

We hustled to the planned area but our balloon was way east so we had to go about 6 extra miles around the park and Running Water draw to find our balloon.  But as we were leaving, there was another balloon attempting a landing.  There were high lines that he had to pass over and then he had about a 100 yard area to land.

He was a great pilot; he missed those high lines and dropped that balloon down about 30 yards the other side but he was coming down hard and fast because of the wind.  He had one passenger,  a young lady that weighed about 170 lbs.  When he hit the ground, that gondola bounced about 6’ up and threw that girl out of the gondola.  She hit the ground rolling and tumbling.   I just knew she broke something but not a scratch.   Her balloon, after losing that ballast went straight up about 100 yards before settling off.   She was shook up but walked over to her chase crew and jumped in their pickup. 

Needless to say that we located our balloon already on the ground a couple of miles on the north side of the draw.   They had a hard landing but the instructions were to squat down low in the gondola and hold on to the rail.  They did....it was rough but the pilot quickly released the flap on the top of the balloon and it quickly dragged the gondola to a halt.    Dad and Scotty were all smiles.   We rolled the balloon up and loaded and headed for home to make plans for the next day.   No more rides in this wind!

Dad said when they took off they were headed right straight for that grain elevator north of Clovis.   He got a little concerned when they got closer and ask the pilot “What are we going to do when we get to that elevator”?  She looked at him and smiled and said “We are going to go over it”  and they did.   She was a good pilot.  

Just to finish the story, the next day was wonderful.  Just a trickle of breeze right out of the west which drifted us slowly across the north part of Clovis.   We hollered at folks on the ground and watched the dogs run and bark at the mysterious balloon that belched out intermittent gas flames.

We made one stop and changed passengers and the next stop ended our Balloon Fiesta.  After the balloon was rolled up and stuffed in the gondola it was time for the final step.  Four guys picked Betty up and lifted her over the gondola and dropped her on the balloon.  They said they needed a lot of weight to tamp the balloon down.  They said it was just a tradition.   We had a lot of fun.   It was worth $100.    Dad retired from ballooning.   Scotty later got his private plane license.   

FOR MIL'S PLACE
by Bobby Joe Snipes, CHS '53
Guest writer
Oct. 21,  2015

"S'MORES....GRACKLES....AND DISGRONIFICATORS"

She looked me right in the eye

                     coyly

She knew I liked words

                      and knew

I knew a bunch of 'em

And she said with a twinkle

                       in her eye

"What is a grackle?"

Remembering she had

     stumped me once before

With "What is a s'more?"

    and I had answered

"A small rodent-like burrowing

     animal that dozes a lot"

"WRONG," she said, pleased with

                                       herself

"It is a campfire-type sandwich,"

                            she announced

"made of graham crackers, chocolate,

    and a melted marshmallow."

So I decided to BLUFF "grackle".

    " A grackle is splendid snack

in a sack that is wonderful to eat

     while watching old John Wayne 

movies---it is made with a secret 

     recipe, combining Fritos

                               and Cheez-its!"

"WRONG AGAIN," she almost shouted!

    "It is a Big Black Bird," 

obviously proud of her alliteration!

"Okay, MY TURN," I said "What is a

                               disgronificator?"

I had her...and she knew it...I thought

Putting her graceful fingers together in

    in an oval...(signifying great knowledge?)

She answered : "A disgronificator is a

     sort of speedometer, in reverse, 

for measuring speed when one is backing-up!"

Uh oh, you don't suppose she's right!

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

MY MIL

October 5, 2015