THE DAY I KISSED LUCY JANE

"In those simpler times of 1942, no one meant any harm,
or had....."intent"

To this day I don't know what got into me,

that long ago time in the spring of '42 when

I had just turned eight, and was in the third

grade at old La Casita School in Clovis.

Pearl Harbor had just been bombed several

months earlier and I picked that spring to

fall in love for the very first time.

I think what happened is my hormones kicked

in a little early....and there was little sweet,

cute, nice  Lucy Jane, sitting right across

from me by the wall radiators, along under 

the  windows.

Okay, she may have been a bit pudgy, but

she had rosy cheeks and lips--she was

appropriately aloof to the whole world---

("hard to get,")...and she could SPELL!

(I have ever been fascinated by wimmin' who

can spell.)

Somehow I started dreaming about kissing

Lucy and couldn't get the thought out of my

head. No, I wasn't thinking one of those silly

movie-type kisses---just a sweet little run-

of-the-mill-kiss-on-the-cheek! That was it.

You know.

Why I cared about her at all I don't know. For

she was an expert already at wimmin's stuff---

haughty, distant, ignoring, and she didn't even know I existed.

(In later years, pondering earlier events in my

life, I realized that she was merely...shy...

bashful-shy. And she wasn't much interested

in boys.)

Anyway, as time went along, I ignored a very

important rule laid down early from my mama:

An old West Texas farm saying-- "Don't never

tell your guts."

Badly needing some sympathy and advice, I

told my guts to two "pals." Rule One broken,

and they blabbed, all over the playground.

Little eight year old Mil, was losing face, as 

a ladies' man, and fast! Why, they dared me!

I went over there by that rock fence on the

L.C. School playground, and sort of grabbed

little unsuspecting Lucy, and gave her a big

old SMACK right on the cheek. 

It was really just a plain old run-of-the-mill-

kiss-on-the-cheek...I had absolutely no

experience with that kind of stuff.

She didn't do like in the movies and smack-

back-big. And she didn't do cartwheels!

NO! She bawled...and big time! I never saw

anything like it in my whole life! This wasn't

sposed to happen. And I had no "Wimmin's

Manual" to consult...

A Crying Woman...why it scared me to death,

I almost went "on the lam."

In truth and mercifully, the years have wiped

the consequences and ramifications of my 

deed out of my mind, as if to protect my 

sanity.

It seems I was called in after school to meet 

with the teacher and chewed out good and 

proper. She never phoned my parents.

The upshot of the whole experience was that 

I swore in my eight-year-old mind--off wimmin'  for life! No more kissin' or messin' around with that bunch---they're trouble!

Fooey on 'em. My resolve held until the teen-age years.

Had this event happened in this extreme

day and time, I would be  sent up for 

harassment.

(Lucy Jane must have moved away from 

Clovis at some point, for she did not 

graduate with CHS '51.  Over time, in my

mind, I have thought of her, and wished her

a good life.)

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

MIL

30 JUNE 17

  A TRUE STORY

(Can someone find Mil a photo of

     dear old  La Casita School?)

GOING TO THE DOCTOR

HE'LL GIVE YOU ADVICE AND HE'S NOT AFRAID TO DIRTY HIS HANDS

"Going to the doctor" does not mean

     the same thing around our house anymore

as what it used to.

For you see, I've skipped the whole year...

     so far. Going, that is.

Some wimmin' "go to the doctor" all the 

blessed time. I guess iffen you're really sick,

it's okay, but we had a friend  who was one 

heck of a cook, especially with COOKIES.

You'd nearly die to even smell one of her 

cookies. Her doctors soon found out about

it, for she would take them a basket of cookies

on office visits (you know, reminiscent of old

times, when you took a fryer, in lieu of cash,

all picked and blow-torched, gutted, and 

ready to fry) and she got free sample drugs 

and I don't know whatall.

She went regular,,,"whether she needed to go

or not'"---at least I always wondered.

Anyway, BE is not that bad, but you young 

grooms, listen up: Don't never say to a 

wife: "I reckon my elbow hurts bad." 

Before you know it, she will have you traipsing

down to the doctor---and what a nightmare

it is with today's democratic restrooms...if you

have to slip away, you will have to decide

and select from six different-sexual-choice-

comfort-rooms. Choices, choices...ugh..

Nossir, Mil doesn't go that route anymore.He

knows a "specialist" who lives down toward

Capricorn who is more or less retired.

Does have a sort of "Practice" at his home

there...he practices on animals and even 

plants. He is Dr. W.. For short...

If you slip questions to him on email, he will

not classify them as an "office call'" and 

will give you advice on diet, liquids, healthful

recipes, nutrition, seafood, wild pig meat...

most all of which will git you well iffen you 

feel punk.

Don't be surprised when he touts baby

alligator stew, or French Fried Mud Bugs.

You should see me since he told me to eat

loads of Romaine Lettuce.

Once't, after I told him of having a teensy zit

take offen my nose, and they brought this

11/2 inch hypodeemic nerdle in to where I

lay, and clanked it down (big noise) on this

awful glass tray...shaking me up good, and 

I wrote him about it,  he sent pics of himself

treating clients...and WROTE: "Come on 

down,we'll take care of ya'."

(Okay so his clients that day were...cows.)

My knee's been sore so I think I'll head 

south to see him and git checked out.

Besides, he's got lots of fresh juices fixed

right now with his new juicer from AMAZON.

I think I'll try some watermelon juice when 

I arrive, to be sociable.

Being a guest (in that marvelous junky open

shed) I have only one request for the Doc---

     

         "If you should cook up anything for

          us to eat out on that there fishing dock,

          while we talk, remember I am allergic to 

          Saskatchewan  Dog."

I will bring cookies.

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

Mil

19 JULY 17

Virus-free. www.avast.com

"AS SHORE AS GOD MADE LITTLE APPLES..."

"AS SHORE AS GOD MADE LITTLE APPLES..."

((Me and Zane Grey were contemporaries for 

    a time...and were both borned 

          on January 31. How 'bout that?))

On Monday mornings I sometimes

     get up early, anticipating

a fine new day

About 6:30 a.m. today, I found 

               myself

      on those steep stairs 

climbing up to my beloved,

      cozy attic, juggling  my

Ozark Trail vacuum mug, 

      filled with yesterday's

left-over coffee...heated...

     and

a plastic grocery sack with

    three cans of my favorite 

Campbell's fine soup...

    Cream of Potato,  Chicken

Noodle, and French Onion...

     thinking maybe I could

somehow hurry up an early fall

     norther, just by stocking

the larder upstairs...nice place

     to go when it storms

Hadn't been up there in awhile

     (with all this summer heat)

and I turned on the AC to 

      cool things a bit, and 

opened the window

      for fresh air

I sat on my rugged steel GI

     surplus bed, that probly

some general...Ike or Patton,

     or maybe Bradley had

slept on, during some campaign,

     maybe the ETO

Sitting there, on that bunk,

    piled with quilts at one end,

my eyes naturally went to 

              the wall to

     the big six by six raw pine

bookshelf I had hammered

     together myself (wth skill.

rustic-like) and the worn K-BAR

     rakishly stabbed at an 

angle into one end, right into

     the wood....cool...

At the other end of the bookshelf 

           was my aging

         collection of

a dozen-and-a-half Zane Grey

     books, acquired back 

in the sixties, for likely $4.95 per

      volume...

Young Mil first read ZG back when

      he was thirteen and in the 

eighth grade...my CHS friend Mardis

     lived two blocks away, on

Edwards Street, and I borrowed

     his family's Zane's over time,

maybe ten volumes...read 'em all

I lived that summer of '47

    on a horse out some'ers

in the west, riding around to

     ranches, and meeting 

beautiful maidens, and falling

in love with 'em--- every one!

Tales, tales...of the old West...

     rugged cowboys, high.

mountain canyons and passes,

            campfires...

      beans out of a skillet,

sleeping under the stars,

      to the smell of purple sage, 

             and experiencing all

old Wetzel's vicissitudes...

"And what might yore name be,

     pardner?"

"Wal, it MIGHT be Jones, but 

     it ain't."

"As shore as God made little apples,"

     it was a great time, and great 

reading, and WWII was over...

If you can find a cuss word...

    or an f-word, in any ZG novel,

I will buy you a Big Mac, with

     double-meat!

What thrilled am eighth grader,

     with no woman yet,

was when that cowboy and his girl

      were being chased by the

mean old wicked villains, and 

      they headed  lickety-split

thru that only tight mountain pass,

          (on their faithful steeds)

    and toppled rocks and blocked

that pass forever...remember that?!

Well, they lived forevermore 

     in bliss, and no one

could bother them, ever again.

Wonderful !!!

So went my thinking, upstairs

    in my attic, this morning 

             sitting there on

Patton's surplus campaign bed...

....tempted to open that can of

      Potato Soup for breakfast---

but ah, sometime during the summer

      someone ate all my Ritz Crackers.

Coffee's still warm, in my Ozark Trail...

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

MIL

17 July 17

THE SUMMER OF OUR CONTENT

"Now is the summer of our content....
   made glorious...."

In his fertile

    and facts-packed-mind

down south there at

        his beloved farm

it was tuning out to be

    a fine summer---

          maybe even

    the halcyon time of his

                 life...

Wild Peach was green and

    as marvelous-looking 

       as he could remember

even tho' the spring

           garden was 

      already done, either et up

or in freezers

It was satisfying to know that

      even the old talkin'

Gnarledy Oaks

           had both grown

      another ring!

And soon his favorite cotton gin

        would have oodles and 

      gobs of fermented hulls

and other detritus he could 

          get and haul for free

      to feed his fall plants---

("fermented cotton debris": a 

     wonderful smell to a 

scientist; think of all those---

            bacteria!)

Down at the pond, where he 

    was wont to settle down

with a good book, and read

      in the shade...and fish

The bass were jumpin' early

             mornings 

      and the catfish were 

                a' growin'

to beat sixty---and the crappie 

     had got as big as 

              Magic's hands

The Red Barn, a famous 

    landmark on the 

        coast, shone big time

in the bright sun, even tho'

    Ole Sol was already headed 

back south, 

            toward Capricorn.

People galore stop by--those

     pesky tourists, asking: 

"Can we see in that Red Barn?"

                   and

"Got any mud-bugs for sale?"

A rare wild pig or javelina wanders

     onto the property     

                     now and then

and he dispatches it with his 410 and

      it becomes sausage 

                    in one of freezers

It's been nigh onto half-a-year

     since the little three-year-old

          tyke with no diaper and

his little pee-pee showing,

              somehow

      wandered onto the place

          and rang Doc's  doorbell

during breakfast...

           just one of the fine

   stories he is wont to tell

He is not in his dotage, but still

     may be seen sitting 

          under the Old Oaks,

      talking and passing 

the time...with his favorite trees...

All things considered...

     "The Doc," as he is 

affectionately referred to in these

     parts, and his lovely wife

will tell you they have had 

            "a glorious summer"

"But we will miss the 'Little Gators'

         when they are gone."

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

BY MIL

7 JULY 17

CLOVIS MAIN-DRAGGIN' #2

Aerial view from drone, courtesy Kilmer

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=F1sQC6fQpCU

FOURTH ANNUAL MAIN DRAGGING EVENT

FOURTH ANNUAL MAIN DRAGGING EVENT

CLOVIS, NEW MEXICO...June 17-24, 2017

PHOTOS  by Bobby Joe Snipes, 

       CHS CLASS '53

STORY by Bobby Joe and MIL

BETTY SNIPES AND DIANE BURNS, CHS '53

                        COUNTY COURTHOUSE

  

                 CLASS OF '77 BUS                  

Clovis' Old Timers say that the miraculous,

magnificent old custom of the forties, fifties, 

and sixties...somehow ended back there in the

mists of time...no one seems to know exactly

when...

Mil is not sure just when either. But there IS 

good news. It is being revived once again 

(since 2014) each year---on the last weekend 

in June. Even if only for a few days...

It seems to be growing more popular each 

year. It is augmented by and popular with car collectors/restorers/hot rod enthusiasts, and 

motorcyclists.

This year the thing seemed to expand big-

time with the vacant fields behind the Junior

High School, down toward old Wildcat Field

and the old lake...lined up by the scads with

beautiful restored cars. They were all nicely 

waxed and shining.

I've heard tell that there were a lot of hamburger

stands here and there this year! Wow! What fun!

Bob Snipes worked hard to get a good story

for MIL'S....he tells us:

"There were three high school classes that

scheduled their reunions during the Dragging

Main Celebration. One of the attached photos

is the yellow bus, rented by the CHS '77 class.

Since there were three reunions going on and

dragging, we decided to put a sign on our car

saying "CHS '53." We picked up a friend from

our class, Diane (Curry) Burns, and had a great 

time dragging ol' Main and remembering water

fights and other escapades that took place on

the Red Bricks...back in the forties.

We didn't get out and walk---we just drove 

around absorbing the grand event. When we

were stopped in traffic, I'd jump out and grab

a photo or two. I tried to get a shot or two

showing the beloved old HOTEL CLOVIS,

(1931.)

There were dozens of beautiful Hot Rod and

Customized cars...really nice stuff! And there 

seemed to be scads of eating vendors, selling

everything from pizzas to hot dogs to funnel

cakes!

The sidewalks were lined with people. Parking

lots along and behind Main were filled. The 

photos cannot catch the real magnitude of the 

size of the promotion."

Bobby Joe ends his neat description of the 

event with this paragraph. (He and Betty

live on Pile, one  block east...)

"When we went home about nine o'clock the

traffic was backed up way past Marshall

Junior High on down toward the lake, and out

on Commerce Way also. The promoters really 

did a good job. They are to be commended.

(We headed on home to our soft easy chairs,

and then turned in about midnight and the fun

lasted on past 12:00. Betty could hear them 

from our house.")

Thanks Bob for a fine write-up.

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

Next year, 2018, the Red Bricks of Main 

Street will be 100 years old. Wonder if that'll 

play big in the "Fifth Annual Main Dragging"

Event?

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

By BOBBY JOE SNIPES,

      AND MIL

JULY 4, 2017