From The Arbor A Month For Brides And More
Why not take the time to sit down and pen a few lines of some favorite memories about growing up in the summertime, what you did, where you went, what good times do you remember, and all the rest. Whether you rode a mule or a bicycle, picked cotton or mowed grass, traveled in a fine sedan or hung your bare feet off the back-end of a hay wagon, we’d like to hear your story. Keep it to about 800 words, something you would not mind your granny reading and let it conform to our mission statement (included in each issue). Don’t worry about the form or medium, we’ll help with much of that. You know some of the more famous words ever written were in pencil on the back of an envelope or scrap of paper. So many good fresh vegetables are available from the garden and farmers markets these days. Watermelons and cantaloupes are showing up all around. Yum, yum, yum! Makes me hungry just thinking about them…. Many young ladies will become "June Brides" within the next thirty days and many of them will be getting married outside in parks and other beautiful areas with natural settings. May God bless you and may your marriage last forever, with many sweet little new faces to help you enjoy the years. On the sixth of June we must take time to remember the countless young men who gave their lives on the beaches of France during the "D Day" Invasions. The beaches, with names like "Omaha, Sword, June, Gold, Utah," and others were stained with blood of men who fought so bravely and died so young for the freedom so many take for granted today. We apologize for our lack of appreciation for your sacrifice, may we live our lives so as to show our gratitude. In a day when so many disregard, and some who would even desecrate our flag, may we stop on the fourteenth of the month to pay homage to our great flag and for what it represents. Dad, we would never forget you! To us older guys and gals, about all we have left is a handful of pictures and a head full of wonderful memories about you. We would all say "We love you!" But as it is, about the best we can do is to place a floral memory at your gravesite and try to live the life you tried to instill in our being. Thank you Dad for everything! May each of us take the time this summer to look at the candidates and determine which are worthy of our votes. This is one of the most critical elections in years. We cannot vote out some of the ones who would destroy America at this coming election, but we can ham-string them with a congress full of conservatives who will vote the desires of the people who elected them. Let’s junk the "career politicians" and seek out some true "statesmen." Regardless of our religious affiliations, may each of us pray the following scripture: "If My people who are called by My name will humble themselves, and pray and seek My face, and turn from their wicked ways, then I will hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin and heal their land." ~ II Chronicles 7:14 ~ By Ralph R. Jones, Managing Editor
Western Novels A Passion For One Retiree Lewis Sewell of Pontotoc is a retired Baptist minister who, in recent years, has accumulated a large collection of paperback western novels. Just how large is it? No one has counted them, but it’s likely there are a thousand or more of them. The bookcases that he keeps most of them in can accommodate, on average, 120 books, and he has seven of them. Still more paperback westerns can be found on other library shelves of his "man cave." Lewis is a stickler for organization, stating his personal motto, "A place for everything and everything in its place."
"I trade books," he stated, revealing the reason for his meticulous record-keeping. "Sometimes, I’d swap some of mine at the Wise Owl, in Tupelo and then get home and discover I already had one or more of what I’d traded for. Now, I can look in my binder to make sure I don’t already have one before I trade." "I can usually read one of these in a single evening," he related. "Most of these, I read more than once." Lewis explained how he likes to imagine how he might have ended the story differently, had he been the author. Asked whether he’d ever written down any of his "different endings," he said, "Only in my mind." Lewis isn’t sure when he started collecting western novels but remembers he’s enjoyed reading them for many years. However, after retiring, he found he greatly enjoyed reading and collecting them, but that’s only one of the activities he’s enjoyed in his retirement. While western novels comprise much of Lewis’ reading pleasures, he reads other books and enjoys writing. He keeps a copy of Ripley’s Believe It Or Not that describes the exploits of his high school football team in Newbern, Tennessee. "When I was a junior in high school, there in Newbern," he recounted, "in every football game for the entire season, if we got the opening kickoff, we ran it for a touchdown. If we kicked off, we ran for a touchdown on our first play from scrimmage…every single game." He and Billie Jean, his wife of fifty-five years enjoy taking trips with the senior adults of First Baptist Church, Pontotoc or making treks to see grandchildren in Alabama and Tennessee. He doesn’t golf much these days but as late as 2004 - 2005, he was winning trophies with his golfing skills. It was his love of golf that got him into club repairs, years ago. He took a class in club-making and is a certified clubmaster, though he’s quick to point out he no longer is in the club-making and/or golf club repair business. Oh, he has all the tools of the trade and enough parts to make several complete sets of golf clubs, but he’s not taking any new clients. Lewis’ career has been a varied and fruitful one. An accomplished athlete in both football and basketball during his high school years, he was offered scholarships to a number of institutions of higher learning, but the Lord wanted him in the pastoral ministry, so he attended and graduated from Union University in Jackson, Tennessee, while pasturing small churches in the area, his earliest when he was just nineteen. Also, while he was attending Union University, he met and married Billie Jean Thomas of Pontotoc, Mississippi, whom he affectionately calls "Hon."
Though a holder of a doctorate, Lewis’ appetite for education compelled him to seek an additional degree at The University Of Mississippi, one that qualified him as a nursing home administrator. And, after retiring from the pastorate, Lewis administered a nursing home in Tupelo before being asked by the Veteran’s Administration to administer the four Veterans’ Homes in Mississippi. As with his other career choices, he loved the work, but the highway took its toll on him physically, and he eventually retired again, for good. Pick a subject—most any topic will do—and chances are Lewis Sewell can expound on it. After all, he’s a well educated individual with varied interests, who continues to live the life he describes as, "A place for everything and everything in its place." ~ By Wayne L. Carter, Associate Editor & Publisher
Growing Hydrangeas Tim's Informative Tips As I was pondering on what to write about, Ms Janet suggested Hydrangeas as we have been building a flower bed with a few different varieties. Wives are a life saver when we men go into the duh mode. There are four species that are widely grown in this area. They are the big leaf, oak leaf, the smooth leaf and the climbing hydrangea. The most popular is the big leaf hydrangea. It is the one that most people have in their yards. They produce large showy flowers that are pink or blue depending on the PH of your soil. They seem to grow the best on the north side of the house, but will grow in the sun also. This is the variety that florists use the most in arrangements.
The smooth leaf hydrangea is the other native that we grow in this area. It grows approximately five feet tall and as wide. The most popular of this species is the "Annabelle" which produces showy white flowers that can reach up to one foot in diameter. As they mature they will turn a pale green color. These look especially good in mass plantings. The climbing hydrangea is a variety that is becoming more popular in this area. It is a slow grower, but will eventually reach up to eighty feet at maturity. It is usually planted on a tall structure in the garden or planted next to a large tree or even on a storage building. It produces white lace cap flowers in early to mid-summer. This hydrangea will tolerate a good bit of sun. Hydrangeas prefer moist, well drained soil. They prefer some shade in our hot climate, but will take a good amount of morning sun. They will however need extra water on over in the summer when temperatures are 90 plus. There are generally three things that will reduce flowering on a hydrangea. The first is not getting enough sun. While they are basically shade plants, they do need all the morning sun that they can get. Second is improper pruning. We usually don’t prune ours at all except to cut flowers to put in arrangements. The big leaf and the oak leaf bloom on old wood. The blooms for next year are set this year, usually within a couple of weeks after the last blooming cycle. If you must prune, I would suggest that you do it within that two week window. The smooth leaf blooms on this year’s growth and would need to be pruned in the spring before they start to leaf out. Third is weather related and is basically out of our hands. The only measures that I know of is to mulch heavily for the winter to protect them from our cold temperatures and to cover them with blankets or sheets in the spring when there is a frost or freeze warning. Hydrangeas don’t have a lot of problems with insects, but most of these are spider mites or aphids and can be controlled with a blast from the water hose or spray with insecticidal soap. They do get some fungi problems and root rot can be a problem with over watering. For fungi problems, spray with a good fungicide. There are a lot of new varieties out on the market today and I encourage you to try them out. We have about five different varieties in our garden and plan to add more. They really do dress up a landscape, so send me a message on what hydrangeas you have and tell me about your favorite. If you have any questions or comments, send me an email at colorsbytim@hotmail.com or find me on Facebook.com/mastergardner. Happy Gardening and keep digging in the dirt. ~ By Tim Burress, Regular Contributor
Farmer’s Market Local Folks Provide Freshness This morning is a beautiful damp hazy Saturday morning here in Collierville, Tennessee on the plain between the Wolf River and the Nonconnah Creek, where the warm humid southerly gulf breezes bump up against the Raleigh Lagrange hills and bless us with much needed heavenly water. My wife Mimi was up most of the night with her pom-a-poo puppy, Belle. She, Belle that is, must have "et" something that disagreed with her, like a toad or lantana berries. She had three shots yesterday and an embedded IV. This morning she still wouldn't eat or drink anything and only wanted to snuggle in one of our laps, that is until Mimi offered her a bowl of Coca Cola. That did the trick. Since then, she has taken her medicine in which Mimi secretly mixed the special food the veterinary sold us, and has perked up quite a bit. When she gets well, I'm going to speak to her sharply about eating toads or lantana berries. Since all was looking better at home, I decided to visit the nearest farmers’ market, being as our town fathers and mothers think it best for our town not to have one. I bought freshly shelled butterbeans and lady peas they were shelling on the spot. I bought sweet corn to steam in the husk in the microwave oven. You open them, apply butter, then close them back. The silks can be removed when you open the husk. The bell peppers were too pretty to pass up so I bought a passel of them for Mimi to make her famous stuffed bell peppers. She makes enough so we can freeze some to microwave and eat later. I bought plums for our granddarlings and a cantaloupe for Mimi. The peaches were still a bit too early. I meant to buy some delicious Pontotoc Ridge blueberries, but I forgot to. That gives me reason to go back next week.
When I got home, I had a BLT, and Mimi had a 'mater sandwich using the Better Boy 'maters. They were good. I give them an 8.5 on a scale from 1 to 10. (Mimi says I have watched too many of them Olympic Games.) My Bermuda grass has responded to the recent rains and the high mowing level and grown an almost perfect carpet with only a few broadleaf weeds here and there. I'll leave those weeds since some weeds I treated earlier with glyphosate have left brown spots. The Fourth of July will be coming up soon. I wish our town celebration were less rock and soul and fireworks and more a patriotic theme, with a flag ceremony, a couple of patriotic speeches, a children and pet parade, and a wonderful heart stirring sing along of patriotic songs in the park, followed by fireworks and rock and soul music for those who want to stay up past 9 pm. A local bursary sales lady recently spoke on the benefits of using a product called Soil Soup, which is a carefully measured and mixed and brewed tea, designed to bring lifeless soil back to life with billions of beneficial microbes. A friend and lifelong gardener told me a bucket of free stagnant pond water is loaded with the same microbes. Soil Soup has several other ingredients, too. It’s supposed to green up those brown spots in my lawn. See http://www.soilsoup.com/ ~ By Carl Wayne Hardeman, Editor Everyone Pitched In Wartime Remembrances Our 32nd president, Franklin D. Roosevelt said, "This day, December 7, 1941, will go down in history as a day of infamy…." Even while peace negotiations between the United States and Japan were underway, the Japanese bombed our naval fleet anchored at Pearl Harbor in Hawaii. What a sad day for America! What a turn-around in our peaceful way of life! War was upon us, we were thrown into the middle of a war whether we wanted to be there or not. The war in Europe had already begun and Hitler was marching across Europe like a drunken madman, while Japan was bombing, torpedoing and strafing our ships in the beautiful, peaceful harbor of Pearl. We had tried to stay out of the fracas, but the bombing at Pearl Harbor proved to be the catalyst that plunged us into a fierce world-wide war. A war we would fight on two different fronts, one in Europe, and one in the Pacific Islands. Men of all ages flocked to the recruitment offices and county court houses, to join the "Army." This dastardly strike had riled folks from New York City, to the most backwoods farms of Mississippi. Almost immediately, companies of all kinds and descriptions began to produce war materials. Automobile manufacturing companies began to produce military vehicles, tanks, ships, planes, weapons of every kind, and ammunition for those weapons. Most all manufacturing turned to war-time production. Most things built for home and farm use were put on the back burner. As the men flocked into service, women marched into factories and took up the slack where men had riveted, welded, and assembled just a short while ago. Us kids, well, we did what we could. Although a small boy at the time, I remember collecting scrap iron, scrap aluminum, cooking lard, and other things for the war effort. Aluminum foil from chewing gun wrappers and cigarette packages was carefully pealed from the paper backing for the precious metal. Empty toothpaste and medicine squeeze tubes made of aluminum were gathered for the war effort. Some cities even donated commemorative cannons from the Civil War for the scrap iron drive. The government encouraged the public to grow as much of their own food as possible. "Victory Gardens" sprung up all around the country. People, who had never grown anything before, planted vacant lots, front/back yards, and even window boxes. Youngsters and others sold "Victory Garden Seed" and made a few cents on each package as did the seed producers. It was a thing of pride to help the war effort even if it was only a small garden, or a load of scrap iron. Before the hostilities had ended in 1945, most things that the average family would purchase was scarce, rationed, or non-existent. Some foods, fuel, tires, fabrics, appliances, automobiles, etc. were so hard to find. Ration booklets were issued to every family, according to their need. Even if one had the money to purchase something, and it happened to be available, but not enough of the proper stamps, it was "no sale." While the war raged on, most folks "hunkered down" and did what was necessary to survive. Those that could not serve did what they could to help the effort, while keeping the home fires burning. Many famous Hollywood Actors joined the military and fought like the rest, while others, who were unable to serve, offered their time and talent to entertain the service men and women at home and around the world.. One of the ways the government financed the war was by selling "War Bonds." These bonds were a safe investment that paid a fair interest rate. A twenty five dollar war bond could be purchased for about seventeen fifty. When it reached maturity in about eight or ten years it returned the face value to the holder. "Series E" bonds continued earning interest even after the maturity date and for the next forty years. Popular singers and actors like Bing Crausby, Jack Benny, Bob Hope and so many others, not only entertained the troops overseas, they promoted and sold war bonds wherever they went.
At the age of four, in 1942, my dad bought some pigs to raise, not only for food but to re-sell. He gave me one of the pigs and I suppose it was my job to tend to it, a learning experience as such. When the pigs were of size to sell, he paid me for mine with a twenty-five dollar savings bond. What a happy camper this little red head was; already investing for the future. That twenty-five dollar War Bond, that Dad gave me, is still in my possession. Some years ago I asked about cashing it, and the bank said it was still good, but had stopped earning interest in 1982, forty years after purchase. It’s value had grown to well over one hundred dollars and they wanted to know if I desired to receive the cash. I thought about it for a while, but not long. I would keep it as a reminder of a kind and generous father and as a token of my small part in the great World War ll struggle. I truly hope our fellow citizens and government leaders never forget the sacrifices made by ordinary folks to keep us a free country. And to those gallant men and women who fought and died for us: we offer our most sincere gratitude. God Bless America ! ~ By Ralph R. Jones, Managing Editor
Fun Times No Pool, No Problem...Think Pond The year was 1952. My best friend, Ruth, and I were in third grade at Algoma Elementary School in Algoma, Mississippi. My parents and I lived on a cotton farm, which Dad rented from Ruth’s grandparents across the gravel road from where Ruth and her family lived in a community informally known as Liberty. Ruth’s grandparents’ home was just a few yards from our house on the same side of the road, Highway 341. "Miss Ella" McWhirter would make ice cream in the ice-cube tray in the freezer of her refrigerator. This was a wonderful treat for us, and it usually happened on the Sunday Ruth’s cousin Peggy Hodges came to visit from New Albany. We were not all that enthused to have Peggy invade our territory as a third party, but we were expected to be cordial and play with Peggy on those Sundays. I guess the ice cream made it worthwhile. We were a close-knit twosome and resented having to share our "hideout" secrets with anyone. Those were the days of playing cowboys and Indians with stick horses, plastic guns and secret hideouts that we built with leaves around trees in the woods behind my house. Sometimes the huge black walnut tree in the far corner of Miss Ella’s yard served as an outpost as well. The nearest town was Pontotoc. This is where our families shopped on Saturday when we went to town for groceries and other sundry items of necessity. In between trips to town on Saturdays we had the Rolling Store that stopped by if we flagged it down. Of course, this meant penny candy for Ruth and me purchased with some of the money the peddler paid for mom’s eggs or a nickel or dime we had saved for just such an occasion. By the way, my friend’s real name was Ella Ruth, named after her grandmother, but we called her Shorty. My nickname was Jackie. At school I used my real name, Miriam. The highlight of the year came when my sister and her husband, Bonnie and John Thacker, came to visit on their vacation. The Caterpillar Plant in Peoria, Illinois where John worked always shut down two weeks in July for vacation. Ruth and I would plan and count the days until their arrival. This meant at least one swimming trip to the public pools in either Okolona or New Albany. We had aqua blue swimsuits just alike. Ruth’s mother took us to Pontotoc to get permanents for our hair. I remember my concern about possibly loosing my curls as we hung our heads out the windows of the car coming home from the swimming pool. My fear proved to be unfounded as our hair remained very kinky when it dried!
In the hot summer time when we were out of school our imaginations could get a little out of hand. There was a pond of water in the pasture behind Ruth’s house with some shade trees close by. From our point of view, this would be a great place to "sun bath" in our new swimsuits and picnic on a quilt near the water like we had seen in the movie magazines Ruth’s older sister Wanda and her friends collected. We were about ready to pull off our secret plan when mother noticed the neck strap to my swimsuit and questioned me on why I had my swimsuit on under my clothes! Fortunately we were saved from the bull in the pasture, from possible snakes in the pond and from who knows what else by my mother’s keen eye and veto to the sun bathing picnic. If anyone thinks the lure of a farm pond in the pasture is limited to boys, I can testify to the untruth of that myth. However, this time I can truthfully say all the credit for the wet muddy clothes of my friends can be attributed to the leader of the pack, Lynda Grace Bost. Lynda Grace, Peggy Jean, Ruth and I were the same age. More kids, whose names I cannot recall, lived on the next gravel road across the pasture, and sometimes we would get together to play. On such a day Miss Ella had cautioned us about playing too close to the muddy pond and the unknown contents of the muddy water. Lynda Grace went right in clothes and all. I can still see in my mind’s eye her muddy cotton underwear down around her knees filled with mud. For once, Ruth and I were innocent! These are only a few of the many memories I have of playing with my best friend after school and in the summer time. ~ By Jackie Thompson Crosby, Contributor Downtown Pontotoc Fifty Years Make A Difference This year the 1960 graduating class of Pontotoc High School, of which I am a member, celebrates its Fiftieth Anniversary. Certainly, "there has been a lot of water under the bridge since then." The high school building from which we graduated still stands, though it is no longer the high school; it now serves as the junior high facility. The "city schools" existed in two buildings in 1960, unless one counts the school for Pontotoc’s colored students. Today, the Pontotoc Separate School District educates students in five separate locations. The football field where our players won gridiron fame as conference champs (undefeated and untied) in 1960 has been improved over the years, but it’s still in the same hollow it was back then. If any of my classmates have not seen our school at any time during the past fifty years, they will be surprised by how much has changed with respect to the buildings and grounds of our high school and Pontotoc in general. Downtown Pontotoc was a beehive of activity during our high school years, 1956-1960. Today, almost none of the retail businesses of 1960 Downtown Pontotoc can be found. The grocery stores, filling stations, drug stores, hardware stores, and furniture stores, are gone. Supermarkets and convenience stores selling gasoline were the death knell for grocery stores and filling stations. Though none are in the downtown area, Pontotoc still has a couple of privately owned drug stores. The chain operators like Wal-Mart, Fred’s, and now CVS, have decimated the small druggists. Hardware can be found in multiple locations along Highway 15 Bypass, just not downtown.
Many of us recall the two major "ten-cent" stores, Page’s and Kuhn’s, but "dollar stores" on the Highway 15 Bypass, and Wal-Mart fill their void. Pontotoc’s largest clothing store, Michael’s, was built in 1960, but today it stands empty. Michael’s replaced several businesses destroyed by fire in 1959. First National Bank, which was located on the opposite corner of same block has expanded three time or more in the past five decades and it is now adjacent to Michael’s. On any given Saturday in 1960, the two downtown banks were open until noon; parking spaces were a premium, and if one wanted to walk from one end of Downtown Pontotoc to the other, dodging vehicles on the street was a better option than working ones way along the crowded sidewalks. Mr. Graves gave the quickest and cheapest haircuts in town. Sure, they were of the "white walled" variety, but folks in a hurry or those looking for a bargain were happy with the results. In 1960, Leonard Fauver would repair your shoes or sell you a new pair at a good price. Somehow, his business, "The Progressive Shoe Store," has managed to survive when most of its neighbors did not. Fauver’s son and grandson carry on the family business, but shoe repair is not an option, anymore. Folks crowded into the Joy Theater of Downtown Pontotoc for Saturday matinees and the evening show, the latter of which was usually over around 8:00 p.m. Televisions were not in every home in 1960, so the theater was a principal source of entertainment. Folks still shop in Downtown Pontotoc, but the crowded atmosphere of yesteryear is gone. As Pontotoc has grown, its business expanded mostly west of the downtown area and primarily along Highway 15 Bypass. As long as the Court House is downtown, and the downtown banks stay open, folks will find a need to visit downtown Pontotoc. But, if it’s shopping that they have on their mind, the bulk of it will be done somewhere outside of downtown. Downtown Pontotoc may one day see better days, but it’s save to say its best days have already been. ~ By Wayne L. Carter, Associate Editor & Publisher Sweet Corn Naturally Good Eating "Sex is good, but not as good as fresh sweet corn." ~ Garrison Keillor While not everyone would agree with Mr. Keillor, most would agree one of the joys of early season produce is sweet corn. It is sweeter and loses its sweetness slower than summer corn, also called field corn. When corn is first picked, the sugar in it begins to turn to starch. Hot weather speeds up that process. Corn trucked from more than a day away has already lost some and maybe most of its sweetness. Corn is so sweet that the majority of American food is sweetened with corn syrup. Cane syrup and maple syrup play minor roles nowadays, comparatively. That cola you had with lunch is corn syrup in carbonated water with flavorings. There are many logical, economic and social reasons for supporting local agriculture and local farmers’ markets, but the wonderful sweetness of a fresh, boiled, lightly salted, and slathered in melted butter ear of corn makes the best case of all. Buying and eating an ear of corn picked just that morning can only happen at farmers’ markets with any certainty. Ask the farmer when it was picked and what the variety is. Most likely he or she will be happy to peel back the shuck and mash a fat kernel or two for you to see its milky goodness. Check out: http://www.recipetips.com/kitchen-tips/t--1283/all-about-sweet-corn.asp Look for husks with good green coloring and pale but not white silks. To check the freshness, pull the top of the husk away from the ear and pierce a kernel with your fingernail. If the kernel releases a slightly cloudy juice it is fresh. If the kernels are dented or discolored, the corn is not fresh.
We have learned corn can be prepared easily, much easier than the old days, by leaving it in the shuck and grilling or wrapping in paper towels and microwaving it. When cooked, the shuck and silks are easy to remove. In Nature’s grand design, each kernel of corn has its own silk which must be pollinated for it to develop. I hope to see you at the local farmers’ market buying early sweet corn. My favorites are white Silver Queen and bi-color peaches and cream. ~ By Carl Wayne Hardeman, Editor Dancing ‘n Driving The Graveled Road Incident What in the world does dancing and driving have to do with one another? Sometimes teenage exuberance can overtake good judgment. In the spring of 1954, as we finished our eleventh grade of high school at Pontotoc, Helen Alexander had a party at her house on Highway 41 near the Troy community. We all resided in simple, livable, and far from new houses; hers was about the same. You could tell it was a much loved place with a low fence about the yard, grass neatly cut, many colorful flowers, and there was a sense of pride all about. Most of the class showed up for the gathering and we enjoyed the refreshments. Helen brought out a record player and put on several 45 speed records, ones that were popular in the 1950s. Some "steadies" began to dance, but not the "pool-room" gang. We were way too cool for such, imagine us being caught dancing with a girl. Why the world would stop turning and the sky would fall, not to mention that our other buddies would laugh their heads off. Mom being a very strait laced lady from a good Baptist background would never have entertained the thought of dancing herself, nor her son. But here he was smack dab in the middle of an impromptu dance. Had it been labeled "Helen Alexander’s Dance Party," chances are many of us would not have attended, especially the 90% or so that were Baptist. But, since it was just a party and nothing said about dancing, most of us were there. As the party progressed many of the guys were pairing off with their girlfriends and learning a few simple dance steps. The girls were more than willing to teach us, we went as sheep to the shearers. If my life depended on it, I could not tell you who taught me those first few steps. It was the "two-step," about the simplest of all dance steps I suppose. Who I danced with, I cannot remember, but this I do remember, it was fun, fun, fun. By the time we left, I was higher than a kite, my adrenaline had spiked, it had to be adrenaline because there was no alcohol or (heaven forbid) drugs there. All us "pool room" boys were walking on clouds, to say the least. I had never before felt so exhilarated. As we left in our dad’s cars on the gravel road, we were a merry group. As usual, each car was full of kids; those who could not persuade dad to let them have his car rode with those who did. Dad’s ’49 Dodge was filled with my friends, both boys and girls. Kenneth was in his family’s ’51 Ford, with a load of kids as well. Jimmy and others were with Tommy in their Chevrolet. Kenneth headed out in front in a dead run. Of course the Dodge was no match for the Ford’s speed but was doing a decent job of keeping up with him. Those of you who are familiar with gravel roads know that in dry weather there is a considerable amount of dust created. The dust rolled out from under the car like a humongous brown cloud. Don’t follow too close because not only will the dust cover everything in its wake, and you can’t see very well, in fact you can’t see at all. Kenneth was setting the pace, and this fool was trying to keep up with him. The dust got so bad that all I could see was his tail lights. No problem, just follow the lights, and all is well. WRONG ! The fallacy of following a set of tail lights is that if you get too close you’re in danger of rear-ending that vehicle, if you fall back too far the tail lights disappear. However, his tail lights soon began to veer off to the right. "Why is he going into the ditch," my mind asked me.
Talking about a balloon being burst, it was ours. However, as we regained our wits, we realized how fortunate we were that the light pole was still "out there" and not "in here." The car moved back out onto the road without any problem. We were not much worse for our experience and soon began to laugh at the "cotton patch" episode. No damage was done to the car or the cotton. I suppose God had special angels assigned to us the night we learned two lessons, "how to dance" and "how not to drive." Thank you Lord! ~ By Ralph R. Jones, Managing Editor
BJ And The BB Gun You Could Put Her Eye Out Moving into our first house at 318 North Third Street in Baldwyn at the age of 5 was probably the best move my parents ever made. Not only was it the very first real house we’d ever lived in but it also offered this young girl a wealth of stories that are still remembered today some 60 years later. One in particular that came to mind this morning was about the time my little brother and I decided to run away from home and join the circus. I remember seeing Burt Lancaster fly through the air on a swing one night in a movie called Trapeze and thought that was the coolest thing I’d ever seen. My brother however, focused in on the sharpshooter in the circus who shot cigarettes from a girl mouth and according to him, that was even cooler. We were young and dumb and the next day I let my brother talk me into being his assistant. He got out his Daisy BB gun and a new box of BB's he’d bought at Mr. Hugh Eptings Five and Dime and loaded it up. We then sneaked some white writing paper out of the stationary box Mama kept on her dresser to write letters to our Grandmother in Mobile, Ala., a pair of scissors and a few bobby pins. He cut the paper into long strips the length of a cigarette, rolled them into ‘straws’ and secured the ends with the bobby pins. In our backyard, facing the North, Mama had piled up some rocks and pieces of old broken concrete blocks she had dug up from her garden spot earlier that Spring and we placed a few Coke Cola bottles on the pile for targets. My brother said we had to make sure the gun was shooting straight and true. He shot at the bottles and declared it was! I wasn’t as sure so I took a few shots to see for myself. I hit the bottles so I figured he must be right. Our paper props were made, our Daisy was shooting true and we were ready.
Now, either my little brother was a really good shot at the age of 6 or 7 or we were being protected by our Guardian Angel. In later years we would come to realize that both of the above statements were true. He was an excellent shot and even became a firearms instructor at one point during his career in the Mississippi Highway Patrol where he served until he retired at the age of 45 and we both had a guardian angel watching over us; then and now. Mama came home for lunch and as we were sitting around the kitchen table asked what we’d been up to all morning. We knew better than to tell her what we had really been doing. Our sharpshooter act would’ve been squashed right then and there and truth be known, it should have been. After lunch, Mama had no more than gotten out of our sights before we were back out by the rock pile honing our skills once again. This time however, we were interrupted by our neighbor, Brenda Joyce Bryson, better known by everyone in town as just plain BJ. "Stop! Don’t shoot that gun at your sister," BJ yelled out from her backdoor. But before we could explain, she was running down her backdoor steps and across the yard toward us and as my brother turned to explain what we were doing, the Daisy BB gun fired and a BB met Brenda’s left ear lobe up close and personal. She grabbed the left side of her head and started chasing after my little brother who had dropped the Daisy and taken off running across the yard like a scalded dog. I started crying. BJ called Mama and told her about our little target practice and Mama ran back home in a flash; red faced and panting for breath. She grabbed my brother up and started giving him the lecture of his little young life. "What were you thinking? Don’t ever point a gun at anybody. You could have put her eye out." She finished her lecture with a few swift swats to his backside. I know they had to be painful but he never cried. He merely looked at her through those sweet little innocent misty eyes of his with both hands planted firmly on his hips and replied, "I waddin’ gonna put her eye out Mama; I’s aiming for her earlobe…uh, on purpose!" Bless his little pea picking heart; he was not going to go down quietly. Mama and BJ both turned their heads and snickered to themselves. BJ was fine, Mama got over her mad spell and we promised to be more careful in the future. Mama went back to work and the gun incident was over forever…..or so we thought. A few days passed before Mama got a phone call from another neighbor, Mr. Bud McCarthy who asked her if she could please stop her children from shooting their BB gun toward his house. Needless to say the Daisy was shelved for the rest of the summer and the circus lost the greatest act in the world; a young sharpshooter shooting homemade, bobby pinned, paper cigarettes out of his sister’s mouth without ever missing….even once. ~ By Clarene Evans, Contributor
Bubba Bodock You Know You're From California It’s our turn. So as not to be outdone by all the redneck, hillbilly, and Texan jokes, somebody had to come up with this. You know you're from California if: 1. Your co-worker has 8 body piercings and none are visible. 2. You make over $300,000 and still can't afford a house. 3. You take a bus and are shocked at two people carrying on a conversation in English. 4. Your child's 3rd-grade teacher has purple hair, a nose ring, and is named Flower. 5. You can't remember . . is pot illegal? 6. You've been to a baby shower that has two mothers and a sperm donor. 7. You have a very strong opinion about where your coffee beans are grown, and you can taste the difference between Sumatran and Ethiopian. 8. You can't remember . . is pot illegal? 9. A really great parking space can move you to tears. 10. Gas costs $1.00 per gallon more than anywhere else in the U.S. 11. Unlike back home, the guy at 8:30 am at Starbucks wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses who looks like George Clooney really IS George Clooney. 12. Your car insurance costs as much as your house payment. 13. You can't remember . . is pot illegal? 14. It's barely sprinkling and there's a report on every news station: "STORM WATCH.." 15. You pass an elementary school playground and the children are all busy with their cells or pagers. 16. It's barely sprinkling outside, but you leave for work an hour early to avoid all the weather-related accidents. 17. HEY!!!! Is pot illegal???? 18. Both you AND your dog have therapists, psychics, personal trainers and cosmetic surgeons. 19. The Terminator is your governor. 20. If you drive illegally, they take your driver's license. If you're here illegally, they want to give you one. Christian One-Liners
Cuzin' Cornpone A Bodock Post Exclusive Cuzin’ Cornpone, our loveable, often laughable, friend appears only here in The Bodock Post.
Our Mission Purpose - The Bodock Post It is our desire to provide a monthly newsletter about rural living with photographs of yesterday and today, including timely articles about conservative politics, religion, food, restaurant reviews, gardening, humor, history, and non-fiction columns by folks steeped in our Southern lifestyle.
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Welcome to the Bodock Post! We’re so glad
you could join us as we transition from spring into summer. The swimming
holes have already been explored but for the most part they are still a little
cool. There is just not enough hot sun to warm the water sufficiently. Since
summer officially begins on the twenty-first, it won’t be long ‘til
the water’s warm.
He has organized his
library of western novels by author and maintains a three-ring binder of
his book collection, which is also categorized by author. If he has a favorite
author it would be William W. Johnstone whose work is carried on by
Johnstone’s son, J. A. Johnstone. Books by these two writers of western
novels fill two bookcases nearest Lewis’ recliner.
After receiving his doctorate
in 1971 from New Orleans Baptist Theological Seminary, Lewis served as pastor
of a large Baptist Church in Metairie, Louisiana and was later invited to
return to his Alma Mater to become Dean of Religious Affairs, a position
he feels defines the highlight of his professional career. But, as much as
he loved being back at Union University, he resigned to accept the pastorate
of First Baptist Church, Oxford, Mississippi, where he and "Hon" reared their
three children.
The oak leaf is a native hydrangea that
is usually found in the woods or in a wooded part of your landscape and is
also the most commonly found in this area. They will however take a good
bit of sun also. They grow approximately eight feet tall and produce large
creamy white flowers in early summer that will turn a rose color as they
mature. They also produce beautiful foliage that turns from a summer green
to a deep mahogany red in the fall. This hydrangea requires no maintenance
or at least not at our house.
Mainly I was there to check
out the tomatoes. In case I saw another Master Gardener, I was going to tell
them I was just comparing. Since I didn't see another Master Gardener, I
bought some vine ripened home grown Better Boys from one vendor and Jet Stars
from another vendor. I bought two large Alabama tomatoes, but they did not
have that good fresh 'mater vine smell.
Although us kids could not put together
enough money to purchase even the smallest bond, there was a program that
allowed us to help. We could purchase war bond stamps. If my memory is correct,
the stamps came in denominations of five, ten and twenty five cents each.
We would save our coins and when we had enough to purchase a stamp or two;
we would line up at the principal’s office at school and buy our stamp.
It was with great pride that we pasted them in a small booklet. When the
book was filled it was redeemed for a genuine war bond.
The beauty shop
was upstairs over a store. After the beautician put the awful smelling permanent
solution on our hair and rolled it on the individual rollers, we were hooked
up to this machine where each roller was attached to a cord hooked to the
machine. When the timer went off the machine’s cords had to be removed
in a hurry to prevent the hair from burning! The smell would last for days.
The smell was intensified when the hair got wet.
Gone,
too, is the Ford Dealership in Downtown Pontotoc and the several department
stores that dotted Main Street. A couple of specialty clothing shops are
around, but they weren’t in Pontotoc in 1960.
Sweet corn begins to appear in local
grocery stores in April but was shipped here and is at least a day or more
old. Locally grown corn you find in local farmers’ markets will be available
in mid or late May. It’s difficult to predict the date. Blackberry winter
this year was the last week of April, at least two weeks early.
About that time something went BOOM, BOOM,
and our car pitched smartly, all of us hit the ceiling then flounced back
on the seats, no seat belts back then. Next came a series of bumps, BUMP,
BUMP, BUMP, BUMP, in regular succession. Like a burst from a "Tommy Gun."
What in the world has happened to the road? No doubt Kenneth was stuck in
the ditch or hugging a tree by now. The bumps caused my auto-pilot to apply
the brakes. As the dust subsided, dead ahead, about ten yards, was an electric
power pole. How did that get here in the middle of the road? As the dust
cleared more we realized that we were not on the road anymore but out in
a cotton patch. The initial boom was the road ditch, and then the other bumps
occurred as we bounced across each of the cotton rows. Kenneth was safe;
he had only made a curve in the road and was still on his way home.
I stood firmly in front of the pile
of rocks and turned my head sideways as my brother backed away a few paces
and got ready. We took our time and worked together like a well oiled
machine. After all, we were in training for our debut with the circus; our
act had to be perfect. I placed the paper ‘cigarette’ in my mouth
just as the lady in the movie had done and he backed off a few more paces
and took careful aim. I closed my eyes and he aimed the Daisy.
Pow; he shot the target right out of my mouth. We both whooped and
hollered with delight. His very first shot and we were an act.
Maybe we should try that again. I placed the cigarette back in my mouth
and he backed off and took aim a second time. POW! Second hit!
He was a natural. We were going to be the best act the Big Top had ever
seen.
