June 2011

Volume 34

What with the unseasonably cool weather in mid-May it’s hard to believe summer is only a month away. Nonetheless, the summer solstice occurs June 21, 12:16 P.M. CDT. And, even in parts of the country where Daylight Saving Time is not observed, it will still be the longest day of the year.

> I trust, with the advent of summer at hand, all my friends who wished for warmer temperatures last winter will rejoice and be glad the heat has returned. In the event ours is a long, hot summer, rest assured the global warming alarmists will be out in force warning how people are bringing this highly-hyped calamity upon themselves by releasing greenhouse gases into the atmosphere, belching, or whatever supposed inducement is in vogue.

> June is typically the big month of the year for weddings, and I’m sure there’ll be plenty of beaming brides this June. But, one such "beamer" has chosen to wed her beloved in July. My eldest granddaughter, Anna Butler, a recent graduate of The University of Mississippi, will wed Andrew Wallace on July 9^th.

I imagine the media from levels local to national will report on how steep gasoline prices are keeping families from summer vacation travels. I don’t discount the fact that gasoline prices will influence the decisions of some people, but the vast majority of Americans who motor their way across our country for a vacation will do so regardless of the price of a gallon of gasoline. They may cut back the family budget somewhere else, but vacations will happen en masse.

I’ve no plans for a family vacation this summer, but I do have two excursions on my to-do list. I had planned to visit Tony Austin of Little Rock, AR and trout fish with him while relaxing in his cabin on the Norfork River in northern Arkansas. A few days before we were to have done so in April, two generators failed at the dam upstream from Tony’s cabin, forcing the Corps of Engineers to release water over the dam for a period of six weeks while the generators are being replaced. We will reschedule this trip soon after the repairs are complete.

The second excursion may technically be classified a vacation in that it will be a change of routine for Barbara and me, but it’s really more a mission trip for Habitat for Humanity. This October, with six or seven other volunteers, we will fly to Kenya, Africa to build a house for a deserving family. And, because it’s a mission trip, we’re fundraising to cover our expenses and possibly the expenses of some of our fellow participants. See http://www.firstgiving.com/pchfh for more information on how you can support our effort.

Ralph and I are doing our best to keep the readership of The Bodock Post regaled with interesting and sometimes amusing articles, but with Carl Wayne’s departure from the ranks of our editorial staff, we now need more submissions from others to fill the gap of his leaving. Velta Morris and Master Gardener, Tim Burress, have submissions in this issue. If you’ve a story or two, and most folks do, we’d love to share it for you with our readers. Consult our guidelines at http://rrnews.org/bp/submissions.htm where you will also find where to email your literary contribution.

~ By Wayne L. Carter , Editor & Publisher

Well, have you had enough water; rain, that is? It seems that Mother Nature has been trying to catch up on some that she missed along the way. I was beginning to think that the proverbial forty days and forty nights were happening all over again. At our house we got over eight inches in about a twenty-four hour period; causing the Wolf River to temporarily get out of its banks. We’ve lived here over thirty years and have never seen such "lakes" in the lower areas with many streets closed because of the "flash flooding."

The Agri-Center located at Walnut Grove Road and Germantown Parkway had a gigantic lake just to the south of their facility. Land that is used for farming, a large area for winter water fowl, a fall "Corn Maze," and an overflow parking area for big events at the Agri-Center; was all one great lake. It was caused by the enormous amount of water that fell in such a short period of time and the fact that the Mississippi was above flood stage at the time and did not allow the Wolf River to drain very well.

My college roommate was from Wyoming and one year at school we went through a "monsoon" in East Texas. Some days it would rain four inches, and he would comment, "In Wyoming, four inches of rain is all we get in an entire year." The rains we had here were of that same magnitude.

If you haven’t seen the Mississippi River at flood stage, you owe it to yourself to visit it from a good vantage point. Rich crop land that grew cotton, soy beans, corn, etc. now have another crop, cat fish, bream, crappie, etc., not to mention a few extra snakes and even a crocodile or two; or so I’m told. If you did not know differently, while crossing the river at Memphis, it would seem quite natural to see such an expanse of water. Was it not for the very top of a few trees showing here and there you might mistake it for Lake Memphis. The water extends from the bluff at Riverside Drive to the top of the levee near West Memphis, Arkansas. These levees, built after the big flood of 1937, are doing their job well.

If you listen to the National Weather Channel and other such stations, you’d think that Memphis was slowly being covered by flood waters. Not true! You’ve no doubt heard about famous Beal Street being flooded, houses on Mud Island taking on water, and streets being closed by the dozens. Half truths!

Riverside Drive runs parallel to the river at the foot of the bluff and has flooded over the years when the water rose above flood stage. Several of the east-west streets that dead into Riverside Drive: Jefferson, Monroe, Union, and Beal are subject to flooding at that point as Ole Man River rises. But, it makes more "press" to say that the world famous "Beal Street" is flooded if only for a few yards. Were Harbor Town not a very elite and upscale place to live, it would not have made the news at all. True, there are some few houses in danger of taking on water, most, however, are high and dry. The water is lapping at the walking trails and grassy areas between the houses and the river, but for the most part, houses and streets there are well out of danger.

What the news does not show is the poorer areas of town that takes much less water to flood. These people have to evacuate and go to higher ground and shelters. This happens more often than we would like to think. There are many areas that are subject to "flash flooding" and it hardly makes the local news much less the national channels.

I do not make light of the fact that the river will crest at near, or above, the 1937 flood stage of 48.7 feet on May 10, 2011. However, Memphis is not sinking into oblivion, very few, if any, of the main streets into and out of the city are closed. The drinking water and sewage disposal are still functioning properly and electricity is still provided in most areas. Churches and charitable organizations have opened their doors to victims of the rising water and neighbor has helped neighbor to carry on.

Have we had too much water? Yes! Are we coping with the rising water? Yes! Has the national news, and especially the Weather Channel, blown the situation out of proportions? Yes!

I do feel sorry for those who have been driven from their homes, for those businesses that have been wiped out, and to everyone who has been adversely affected by the high waters. So many of our Mississippi Delta folks have lost much; our heart goes out to you! Please know our prayers are with you and we will do what we can to help you recover.

May God Bless You !

~ By Ralph R. Jones , Editor

June is upon us and for the most part our hybrid teas are between bloom cycles, along with some of the other roses in our garden. It is now time to deadhead our roses and get them ready for the next major bloom cycle. When you deadhead don’t get to drastic, cut the bloom stem back just past the first set of five leaves and about a quarter of an inch above an outward facing bud eye. On the hybrid teas take care and cut out the blind shoots or the canes that do not have any blooms developing on these short canes. Look for suckers or canes that have come from below the graft and cut them out also.

Fertilization is still a concern and I recommend a cup of 13-13-13 or a good rose blend fertilizer like bloom-kote or fertilome for the large bushes and one half cup for the smaller bushes. Sprinkle it around the drip line and scratch it in. I also recommend that you add a water soluble fertilizer into your weekly spray regimen. I am using Monty’s Joy Juice, but the blue water will work well also. I would recommend a dose of fish emulsion. Be sure and read the label and mix accordingly, remember more is not better.

Black spot is still running rampant, so be sure and keep up your spray regimen. I am using Honor Guard and Immunox on a rotating basis combined with Mancozeb. This keeps the fungi from building up immunity to your chemicals. Black spot is hard to control unless you spray every seven to ten days. I always add my water soluble fertilizer in with this mix every week when I spray.

Aphids and spider mites can be a problem this time of year. If you think that you have either one of these pesky little bugs eating on your rose buds, you can control them with a hard blast of water from the water hose. If your case is severe, I recommend using Merit or Conserve to control these pests. I do not recommend adding it to your regular spray mix, but to mix it in a spray bottle and only spray the rose buds themselves. This way you only target the pests and not all the other insects of which many are beneficial insects.

This time of year, watering regularly is mandatory. Water your roses frequently and deeply during any dry spells. They will need at least an inch of water a week, raised beds may need watering more frequently and I recommend that you water early enough in the day that all foliage will be dry before sundown. This will help control fungi diseases.

If you have any questions or comments, drop me a line at colorsbytim@hotmail.com or leave me a message on facebook/mastergardner.com

Happy Gardening and keep digging in the dirt.

~ By Tim Burress , Master Gardener

I cannot vouch for today’s teens, but many of the boys of my generation were interested in fixing old cars or soupin’ up the family car to make it run faster and then running the wheels off it. And, of my generation, many a boy grew to manhood and found a career in automotive mechanics, body repair, or the auto parts business. Others maintained an interest in maintaining or restoring the automobiles of previous generations of owners.

Within a fifty mile radius of Pontotoc, one may find a plethora of automobile shows to attend during the course of a year. Even Pontotoc boasts a car show, which is part of the annual Bodock Festival each August. The average car show has something for just about everyone interested in automobiles. Some are true antiques, some have been greatly modified from the original, and some may be only a decade or two old, but there’s beauty in each of them.

My cousin, Mike Montgomery of Pontotoc, is an old-car enthusiast. Mike credits his dad with creating his interest in old cars.

"When I was a teenager, Dad had a Jackson Cookie route," Mike recalled. "Sometimes he’d find an old car when on his route and he’d trade for it in cookies. My brother and me would often drive the old car home behind the cookie truck."

Mike remembers most old cars his dad found were pulled home behind the truck, but some made it to the Montgomery house under their own power. These old cars were largely Chevrolets and Fords from the thirties and forties. Back then the challenge was more to maintain the vehicle in a usable condition, as the older vehicle was likely the one taken to school by the teenager or was the one to ride around in on a Friday or Saturday night.

Mike says he’s owned outright perhaps fifteen "old cars" during his adult years, not counting the several of his youth that his dad bought or traded from another owner.

"In 1963, I got my first street rod. It was a ’36 Ford pickup," Mike stated. "Bought it from Butch Wood…didn’t have an engine it…I put an engine in it and drove it around."

Of the two restored vehicles in Mike’s shop, neither is for sale. The car is a 1940 Chevrolet Business Coupe, having only 63,000 original miles. The engine is a Chevrolet 350 with dual exhausts. The other is a 1940 Ford pickup that his wife, Shirley, gave him for Christmas a few years ago.

"It was all to pieces, and I built it," stated Mike.

The exterior of both vehicles is largely restored to its original look with the exception of the red paint jobs and sporty, aluminum wheels. Mike explained he doesn’t get into lowering the roofs or otherwise chopping up the bodies of the cars and trucks he restores. Though, one is likely to find a far different and newer engine in one of his restorations than the one put in at the factory.

Part of the challenge in restoring an old vehicle is obtaining a needed part, and Mike keeps several engines, transmissions and spare parts on hand, just in case he may someday need them.

"I bought the hood of the pickup from a man in Davenport, Iowa," Mike commented. "And, the bed from Mack Products in Mobley, Missouri."

Mike used ash wood slats in the bed of the pickup because ash holds up well if properly finished.

Mike feels the pickup is worth $27,000, and values the car at $35,000.

When asked about who in his family might inherit his vehicles, Mike responded, "My grandson [Christopher] works for Jerry Kyle at Old Union Car Company, and this is the kind of car they work on all the time. I’ve made it known to the family…when I die, he gets this car."

Surely, there’s a great deal of satisfaction to be derived from owning a restored antique automobile, especially if much of the restoration was done by one’s self, though Mike admits it’s not as much fun to build one today as it used to be. But, there are other rewards and pleasures of ownership.

Mike and his wife help Rex Parrish of Ripley, MS, put on three car shows annually. Rex owns Flip Flop Productions and this year will host events in Galina, Missouri, Helen, Georgia, and Panama City Beach, Florida. Mike and Shirley may attend 10-12 shows per year, including ones in Evansville IN, and Mississippi sites such as Sardis Lake, Sam’s Town Casino, Sardis, Batesville, West Point, Columbus, and Pontotoc. It’s at such events that he and Shirley enjoy friendships formed with other car enthusiasts from the Southeast as well as other parts of the country, including folks from Hawaii.

"We’re just a great big family when we get together. We bring food, have a picnic lunch, just set around and talk and play games and spectators come and look at the cars."

When Mike mentioned that folks also brag on his cars, he broke out with a big smile of satisfaction followed by a chuckle.

Most of us will never own a beautifully restored old car, but as long as there are Mike Montgomerys and car shows in this world, old cars will be around for everyone to enjoy.

~ By Wayne Carter, Editor & Publisher

Each Springtime, as new growth is exploding all around us with its promised abundance of beauty and sustenance, my memory flashes back to our humble dwelling, deep in the heart of Texas.  I think of my godly parents, Claude and Odelle Gray, and a large plot of ground waiting its harvest of soon-to-be tomatoes.  The farm was not large, by any means, in comparison to present day Texas farms and ranches, but in my child’s imagination, it loomed large.

A long time before my daddy entrusted his young, tender tomato plants to the large open field, he had already carefully cultivated and nurtured the soil, making straight, mounded rows that resembled soldiers saluting their authority.  I’m sure that it wasn’t easy deciding on the right moment to release the plants from their protected "cold frames" to the uncertain elements and/or predators of the open field.  No Internet; no radar; no 7-day forecast; no weather.com.  The best daddy could do was pore over the most recent Farmer’s Almanac or search the skies for current conditions.  At best, no one could accurately predict adverse weather conditions, nor prepare for their often devastating results.

Embedded in my memory is this one spring, probably in the early 1940’s.  The tomato plants were thriving beautifully in the open field, laden with good-sized, green tomatoes – well on their way to near perfect maturity.  In a short time, they would be ready for harvesting and transporting to the wholesale green-market, with no more than a blush of color - if any - on them.  In a few days, they would then magically appear in the local retail markets in the area, showcasing their bright tomato- red color!  Daddy was well-known in the area to be among the first to produce such early, mature tomatoes.

> Suddenly, this particular spring, a tremendous hailstorm swept across our small farm in East Texas, pounding and wiping out my daddy’s tomato crop, taking with it the bulk of his monetary provision for our family that year.  Unrelenting, the hail targeted all of the tomatoes, as I recall, leaving few to survive its onslaught.  In my memory, the hail was large, looking like an invasion of frozen snowballs littering the ground.

>I don’t remember how, or if, my daddy recovered any of his crop of tomatoes that year.  I can say for sure, though, that no insurance adjuster was contacted to assess the damages to his prized beauties, or to our modest home, which no doubt sustained damages, too.  Knowing my daddy, he started all over again and somehow provided for our family by his hard work and accepting the loss as it was: simply an act of God, permitted, for some reason, in His wisdom.

In recent days my heart has hurt for the thousands of families whose loved ones were killed and their homes reduced to mere splinters by unspeakable, 500 mph tornadic activity.  Not only lives, but cherished photos and letters that once documented precious memories were lost or blown away to who knows where.  Devastation that baffles the most seasoned meteorologists and uncalculated heartache is being suffered, due to the unbelievable havoc across many of our southern states.  There is no comparison of my daddy’s tomato crop that was wiped out, only that the lessons learned from these indescribable experiences should bring us to our knees in gratitude for our having been spared.  Dare we ask why?  If we allow our hearts to hear an answer, how will we show our thankfulness?

In honor of my daddy’s memory, a few weeks ago I set out two tomato plants in a pot on my deck.  Bill filled the pot with new soil, a little Miracle-Gro was applied, and they took root and are on their way!  The two plants have now intertwined, embracing each other!   Bill placed some supportive caging around them and they are standing strong, surviving our recent hail storm! 

I don’t need the hail to remind me of my daddy, but I think he would be proud to know that I still remember the lessons he taught me, knowing just how to break off those suckers that don’t belong there, and pruning them often, as he would do.  He would be proud, too, that if they make it to "picking, tomato-sandwich" time, I will gladly share! 

Any takers for future orders? 

Anybody got any watermelons? 

I’ve always loved bartering!

~ By Velta Morris , Contributor

Who among us would drive four hundred miles, leaving early in the morning and returning late at night, just to see a bunch of mules? Possibly some, but not many. However, I do so each year and several of my friends from our Sunday School Class, "The R.O.M.E.O. Club" (Retired Old Men Eating Out) accompanied me.

Columbia, Tennessee hosts a "Mule Day" the first weekend in April each year. When mules were at their height as work animals, Columbia was the world capital of mule trading. They now continue to give the "lowly" mule his due. During the week in advance, there are all sorts of things related to mules happen in and around Columbia. Contests; riding, shooting, pulling, by mules and their riders/handlers; square dances, pancake breakfasts, beauty contests, and other such things just for the fun, happen during this week. There is even a week long covered wagon trek for those families who choose to "camp out under the stars" with their teams. It’s all good clean entertainment for the whole family.

It all comes to a climax on the weekend when most of us city slickers can come out and once again enjoy some little part of their country upbringing. There is a huge parade in downtown Columbia with as many as one thousand mules dressed in their Sunday-go-to-meetin’ harness or other tack. These beautifully groomed mules pull wagons, floats, carts, buggies, defunct gas-guzzling cars, out-houses on wheels, and sometimes beautifully recreated stage coaches, funeral hearses, two and four wheeled buggies, surreys, etc. Big mules wearing a hundred pounds or more of harness with brass name plaques and decorations pull large wagons full of people in colorful, down home, country wear. Smaller teams with harness just as regal pull buggies, and smaller wagons. Miniature mules with their sized down gear pull small carts, and small wagons full of kids and an occasional dog or two. They all strut their stuff for the crowd of fifty thousand or so along the parade route.

Each entry, both mules and vehicle, is cleaned and polished to perfection; brass buttons and knobs shine in the sunlight, and black shiny hooves clatter on the pavement. One lady with a pink parasol, in a pink hooped skirted dress, and riding side-saddle, had her prized mules hooves colored pink to coordinate with her outfit.

There are all sorts of characters in the parade: Confederate Soldiers, ladies riding side-saddle wearing large colorful hats and hoop skirts, mountain men in buckskins with their large caliber rifle across their arm, lead their pack mules. There are singing groups, military groups, church groups, square dance clubs, even some politicians and so many others in the parade. After about an hour and a half of parade, everyone heads for the fair grounds to continue the day that hosts a huge flea market, arts and crafts, and of course other mule events. Joining with the crowd already at the fairground the numbers soar to approximately one hundred thousand, or so it is said.

The mule pulling contest has already gotten started by the time the parade folks arrive, but there is still lots of pulling to be enjoyed by all. The mule teams are categorized by the weight of the team and pull against teams of similar weight.

For those of you who don’t know, they pull a sled (no wheels) loaded with a specific weight of concrete blocks appropriate for their weight category. Each team has an opportunity to pull the sled twenty feet. They get three tries to pull that distance, if they do, they remain in the contest, if not, they are eliminated.

After each team has had their pull, more weight is added to the sled, usually about three hundred pounds. At each round the weight increases and one by one the teams are eliminated until only one team remains; the winners. No animal is abused, no animal is ever struck, all the teamster can do is call on his team. As the mules pull the adrenalin begins to flow and they get "fidgety" and prance around ready to do their thing again. With all this energy they sometimes forget that it is a team effort and do not pull together. The better teamsters recognize this and go to the mules, stand between their heads, holding each by the bridle and talk to them, calming them down so they will pull as they have been trained. Once they are settled he picks up the long leather lines and calls on them to pull again.

The largest category are teams that weigh over three thousand pounds, each mule weighs around fifteen to eighteen hundred pounds each. The winners this year in this class pulled a total of five thousand seven hundred pounds. Such magnificent animals!

Music is abundant on all sides, with fiddles, guitars and mandolins doing their thing. As an old song says, they sell everything from "Soup to Hay" around the area. Mules are bought and sold, judged for their quality and buyers from all over the country are on hand to purchase the ones deemed best for their need. Buyers from the Grand Canyon come to purchase mules to be used on the trek into the canyon.

Many equestrian animals were there for the crown to view. A Clydesdale mare and her cute little black mule colt were there, along with spotted mules, pinto mules, appaloosa mules, and others of all sizes and colors.

As we looked at hundreds and hundreds of mules on this special day, not one skinny mule did I see. Their owners had fed and cared for them well.

If you can; why not mark your calander and join us for "Columbia Mule Day" the first weekend in April of next year. You’ll be glad you did.

~ By Ralph Jones , Editor

Are you tired of the rain yet? Whew, me too, but we wouldn’t be getting it if we didn’t need it. I try not to complain because at some point in time this summer I will be thinking a rain sure would be good right now.

While every garden has its staples; roses, hydrangeas, azaleas, and assorted annuals, I thought why not add a tropical touch to the garden. Last year Ms. Janet and I added a few plants to give our garden a tropical feel.

The first thing we added was a Rice Paper Plant that a fellow master gardener from Booneville gave us. We got it late in the season, so it only grew to a height of about three feet. This is a plant that can take the extreme Mississippi heat with no problem. It likes most any soil, but will grow and multiply best in a rich, well-drained soil. It likes the full sun, but will also grow in partial shade. It can grow up to ten feet in height and has brownish-frosted green leaves that can grow up to 24-36 inches in width. The flowers come on in late fall and are creamy white, fluffy balls. I started with the one plant last year and this year I have half a dozen or so that came back. It will die back to the ground in this area and come back in multiples next year.

The next addition we made last year was the Castor Bean Plant. We planted three seeds and they came up and just sat there, then about mid-June they started growing about a foot a week or it seems. They grow to be about ten feet tall and have large reddish-purple leaves that have five to eleven lobes and can get up to three feet in length. They look great as a specimen plant and even better planted in groups of three or more. The flowers are formed in clusters and develop seed pods that contain three smooth seeds about one half inch long and are usually a mosaic of colors. Plant three seeds this year and next year you will have fifty or more plants come back. This plant is an annual, but comes back year after year from its own seed. The down side to this plant is that the seeds are poisonous and are deadly. If you grow this plant, you will want to teach your children about it. We grow this plant and have taught our grandbabies that it is a pretty plant, but it is not to be eaten. If you remove the flower clusters as they appear, no seeds will form making them a safer plant for children.

Another great plant that has been around for years is the canna lily. It comes in a variety of colors as well as several colors of foliage. They can have green or purple or variegated foliage with flowers of red, yellow, or orange. Canna lilies like moist soil and plenty of sunlight. Plant the rhizomes at least six inches deep and mulch them to help retain moisture. They will grow in partial shade, but not as tall as in full sun. They need to be protected from the wind as they will break easily. Depending on the amount of sunlight it gets, I have grown them to six to eight feet in height. These plants look much better in groupings as opposed to being a specimen plant. They also work well as the thriller in a potted arrangement.

> These are just a few of the plants that you can add to your landscape to give it that tropical feeling. Others are ferns, elephant ears, hostas, and calla lilies. We have some of all of these in our garden. Some grow in the sun and some need all shade, but all give that feeling of being on that little island far away. Get on out there and plant some of these in your garden, then get the hammock out, hang it up and get ready for a little snooze.

> If you have any questions or comments send me an email at colorsbytim@hotmail.com or find me on facebook/mastergardner.com

Happy gardening and keep digging in the dirt.

~ By Tim Burress , Master Gardener

Gwin Winter died of heart failure May 6, 2011, in a motel in a small town in New Mexico. It’s hard for me to accept the fact that someone I knew as "full of life" is now gone from this life. Gwin and I were bachelor school teachers when I met him in late summer of 1966 in Ripley, Mississippi. We quickly became friends.

Once Gwin helped keep me from getting beat up by a fellow teacher, a rather large woman I might add. It was expected of us to attend the annual Sports Banquet at the high school, and our fellow teacher took it upon herself to take a collection from the staff to purchase canned green beans, a last minute addition to the menu. Apparently, the funds for the banquet were exhausted.

In the demanding manner that personified her, she hit up three of us male teachers in the teaching lounge for a specified contribution. Her steeled eyes found mine first, and she waited for me to reach for my wallet. As I recall, in handing her some money, I voiced a mild objection to the last minute change in the menu that necessitated the fundraising effort she so willingly assumed, stating I didn’t really care for green beans.

You’d have thought I had slapped the woman.

"Someone’s got his a$$ on his shoulders," she exclaimed.

Gwin spoke up to offer a similar objection, "Here’s a dollar, but I don’t go along with y’all changing the menu at the last minute and expecting us to ante up."

"And, there’s another one with his a$$ on his shoulders," she shouted, slamming our money on the table. "I don’t need your money. You can keep it."

She said a few more words, that I no longer remember, but I figured as long as she wasn’t swinging, I’d be okay. She stormed out of the lounge, and while my ego was somewhat deflated, my body was still intact.

That same spring, we took our dates to the Sports Banquet, girls we had only met a few days before the banquet. It was my second date with my future bride and no more than the second date for Gwin. We proposed to our respective brides-to-be within days of each other and were married one day apart. Gwin married Gail Hobson on August 19, 1967, and I married Barbara Crouch on August 20^th.

As newlyweds, our lives were scrutinized by the naysayers who mistakenly presumed our respective whirlwind romances and marriages were of necessity rather than merely true love. But, neither of our wives bore a child in the first nine months of marriage.

We soon found ourselves separated from the town where our married lives began. Barbara and I ended up in Pontotoc within a few years and Gail and Gwin tried out Marks, and a couple of other communities before settling down in Vardaman.

We managed to visit each other with a degree of frequency for the first couple of decades of married life, but as our respective families grew and our careers took different turns, our visits became less frequent, until finally, our meetings were, more often than not, attributable to chance encounters.

Gwin’s Dad was a farmer, so agriculture and a strong work ethic was in Gwin’s blood. I well recall the year he took a job working in the business office for a large plantation owner in Marks, MS. When harvest came, the business owner told Gwin he would be working on Sundays.

"I’ve never worked on a Sunday in my life," Gwin responded. "My dad has spent his entire life farming, and he never worked on a Sunday, even if it meant the hay got rained on and was unusable. I don’t intend to start working on Sundays now."

Gwin didn’t work that Sunday or the next or any other of which I’m aware. Instead, he found another job, where he didn’t have to sacrifice his principles for a salary. For Gwin Winter, when the Lord established the Sabbath and told us, "Six days shalt thou work and do all thy labor," He meant it not to be taken lightly.

Gwin wasn’t the perfect husband and/or father, but he was a great individual, quick to smile and quick to laugh, even at himself. He was a natural salesman, in that he never met a stranger, and anyone he met was soon at ease in his presence.

At Gwin’s funeral service his elder son Michael delivered a eulogy. Michael recalled several teachable moments with his dad, notably his father’s insistence that adults be addressed as Sir and Ma’am and the importance of one’s presence in times of bereavement.

"Son, you’re never too busy to pay your respects to the dead."

Michael closed with, "I will always remember two things about my dad. His smile and that he was happy."

Would that the same might be said of each of us.

~ By Wayne L. Carter , Editor & Publisher

Recently heard on late night TV:

Senior Prank ~ A 100-year-old woman in Texas will finally get her high school diploma in June. She's already thought up a great senior prank: sitting very still with her eyes closed. (Jimmy Fallon)

Florida Arrest ~ In Florida a 37-year-old woman got caught shaving her bikini area while driving on the highway. Police described her as one smooth criminal. (Jay Leno)

New Test ~ A new 700 dollar blood test will tell you how fast you're aging. Or you can just look in a mirror. (Jay Leno)

Our loveable friend, Cuzin Cornpone, appears only in 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.

Copyright © 2011 ~ The Bodock Post.

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