May 08 '99
Mignon Marries May 1, 1999
If you planned to host a well-attended church wedding followed by an outdoor reception at your home, you would naturally pray there would be no rain to dampen the spirit of the occasion. In mid-spring in northeast Mississippi the weather is never predictable, and weather prognosticators do well to forecast a day in advance. Therefore, any wedding that involves an outdoor reception should be bathed in prayer. My daughter's childhood friend, Mignon Montgomery, who was, for many years, like a daughter to this writer and his spouse, was granted a weather-perfect day for a wedding. Afternoon temperatures, in the low seventies, were sustained by a cool north wind that seemed more of a caress than a breeze. Blue sky dominated the heavens, allowing for ample sunshine to warm the elderly present for the reception. The afternoon was, in this writer's opinion, as perfect an afternoon for a wedding as could be dreamt or prayed.
Mignon is the church pianist at First Baptist Church, Pontotoc. It was only natural that she asked the Adult choir to sing. Ellouise Dallas, who performed a handbell solo, provided additional music, as did Darla Robinson who sang two solos. Mignon's music professor from Ole Miss was the pianist, and our own Charlotte Foster played the organ. The program did not detail the titles of the piano/ organ selections played prior to the ceremony, and I did not recognize much of what was played. Of course, it was played quite well, and, to the ear of a musician, I am confident it was wonderful. My personal vote for the most enjoyable music goes to the Adult Choir. The choir was seated in the balcony of the fan-shaped sanctuary in order that the wedding party might use the space afforded by the choir loft on the main floor. The sound of the Adult Choir was full-bodied, yet controlled, and the blending of instruments and voices was excellent if not ethereal (that's a high church expression for "heavenly").
The first bridesmaid to enter was none other than my daughter, Rayanne Adams. Though the bride had about seven more attendants, I feel I can unbiasedly declare that Rayanne was the fairest of the fair among bridesmaids. It is an observation some might dispute, but detractors would most likely be found among family members of other bridesmaids, members whose opinions might reflect a personal bias. The next thirty minutes consisted of ceremony, songs, declarations, prayers, and vows, a process that moved smoothly enough, giving no evidence of the frantic moments just prior to the ceremony when it was discovered the minister performing the ceremony had signed the marriage certificate on the wrong line, necessitating an emergency dash by bridesmaid/ Circuit Clerk, Tracy Robinson, to the Court House. What would have transpired had the Circuit Clerk not been a member of the wedding party is open to speculation, but it is safe to say the best of plans could have never anticipated such a happening.
The reception that followed the wedding ceremony was held on the lawn of the bride's parents, Betty and Buddy Montgomery. Indeed, it was wise on the part of Mignon to wait a few years after finishing college to marry, for her childhood home could not have accommodated the several hundred persons in attendance at the reception. In fact, the neighborhood where her parents' new house is located had about all the automobiles it could contain. Many of us parked in the grassy meadow of a cul-de-sac not yet filled with homes. Others parked just off the road in the grass of the Montgomery's neighbors, and some, by permission, on the drives and lawns of those neighbors.
By the time Barbara and I reached the Montgomery home, the line of well wishers stood three and four abreast from the gazebo in the driveway to the street, a distance of some sixty yards. Before we were able to bestow our best wishes on the couple couple's respective parents, the number of persons in line had doubled.
We spent, perhaps, the better part of an hour sipping punch and eating bits of wedding cakes, foregoing the massive displays of fruits, vegetables, breads, meats, etc. The opportunity such a gathering affords for conversation is of greater importance to me than is the opportunity to feast. Anyway, I tend to distrust the food handling practices of most outdoor caterers in warm weather, and with Barbara still recovering from a bout with a stomach virus just days earlier, she was not too keen on heavy feeding. Yes, I should add, that I am a picky eater.
After visiting and conversing with a number of folks we often see, but with whom we seldom get to spend much time, we picked up our youngest grandchild, Merilese. Merilese was having a ball running as fast as her 18 month-old feet would carry her through a maze of legs of standing guests. It was time for us to leave because we were expecting guests at our home around seven-thirty and did not want our guests to arrive before we did.
Spring Fishing Day 3 - Munlin Lake
Saturday morning, April 10, was looked forward to with great anticipation and excitement on the part of our fishing foursome. We had received permission to fish the Munlin Lake in Chickasaw County and could scarcely wait for the day to begin. Munlin Lake, or as I like to think of it, The Lake Of Great Hope, is a privately owned lake near Houlka, MS, and has consistently been one of the best producing lakes we have fished. Several large bass ranging from 4 to 6 pounds have been caught by our group over the past several outings to the lake, as well as one close to 8 pounds caught by Bart Munlin the first time I fished there.
Gordon Sansing, who was visiting his younger son in Saltillo, had asked to bring Brian along to join in the Saturday morning fun. Of course, we were glad to have another fisherman along, especially one who had managed to borrow a second two-man boat from his in-laws.
We had predetermined to meet at the intersection of Highways 15 and 32, the 32 that leads to Van Vleet, not Houlka. Somehow, we did not make that clear enough for Gordon when we discussed the plan the previous afternoon. You see, Gordon had not previously fished the Munlin Lake and was to meet up with us at the designated intersection at 7:00 a.m. and follow us to the lake.
Jim Hess spent a second night with Ellouise and Devan Dallas and arrived at my house around 6:20, Saturday morning. I was finishing a breakfast of Golden Eagle Syrup, homemade biscuits, and sausage patties as he walked in the backdoor. Unaware that he had not eaten breakfast, I offered him some of ours, and to my surprise he readily accepted. Jim, most often, breakfasts with the Dallases when he sleeps over, but had left earlier than normal and did not want to inconvenience his hosts.
We arrived at the appointed spot a few minutes past seven o'clock and were greeted by Lee Gordon who, having been late the morning before, had made certain he would arrive earlier than anyone. We were expecting Gordon to arrive any minute, driving in, first from the Natchez Trace, then onto Hwy. 32, at Van Vleet, and then over to Hwy. 15. We knew that an alternate route would be chosen if Brian brought his in-laws' boat. If that were the case, Gordon and Brian would be following the same path down Hwy. 15, from Pontotoc traveled by Jim and me.
In our diligent planning and direction giving the day before, we forgot that Hwy. 32, intersects with Hwy. 15, at two points separated by about a mile. At 7:30 a.m., we were about to dispatch a search party to the northernmost intersection of the two highways, when the Sansing men arrived. From there it was a short four miles on to the Munlin Lake.
Our boats were soon in the water, with Sansing and son in one boat, Jim and me in Jim's boat, and Lee in his boat. Lee had determined that he would concentrate his angling efforts on fishing for crappie, therefore with the rest of us fishing for bass, our boat arrangements seemed appropriate rather than discriminatory. As Lee migrated toward the bare treetops whose roots were in fifteen feet of water, Gordon and Brian began to work down the Levee. Jim and I decided to fish along a few known hotspots midway from the shallows to the levee.
When we had thoroughly worked the hotspots without catching a fish, we decided that the cool air that had moved in the night before must have been impacting our fishing. Fishermen who must plan their fishing trips weeks ahead of time are always at the mercy of the weather. Weeks of the year that are historically good for fishing may not prove to be good every year, especially years in which El Niño or La Niña upset the norm. We had fished in windy, mostly sunny weather the past two days, but Saturday morning the skies were overcast.
I kept telling Jim the fish would be in the shallow end of the lake, and after the twelfth or umpteenth time I mentioned it, he decided to propel us toward the shallows. Needless to say, after we had caught a few bass in the shallow water, I reminded him that Wayne's logic was correct once more. He knew I was right all the time, but you won't get him to admit it.
Around 10:00 a.m. we pulled alongside the other two boats and with feet and legs draped across adjacent gunwales, we snacked and chatted with one another for the next fifteen minutes or so. We reported our catch and inquired how our friends were doing. No one had hooked a large bass, but Brian and Gordon had strung a few bass and crappie, and Lee was doing moderately well pulling in medium sized crappie.
Returning to the task of fishing, Jim and I worked every area known by us to have ever held a fish and had less than moderate success. It would not be our best day on Munlin Lake. Hopefully, it is not to be our last day on Munlin Lake.
At noon we again pulled alongside each other and ate the sandwiches I had prepared earlier that morning. Afterwards we helped each other wrestle the boats and equipment onto the shore and readied them for travel. Lee cleaned several crappie and iced them down for Bart's family. The other fish were also iced and stored by all who wanted to keep some of the catch. I had fish aplenty left from the first day's catch and did not take any with me from our Saturday morning's catch.
Before departing, we encouraged Gordon and Brian to join us on our next planned outing. Jim has booked a charter fishing boat that sleeps up to 12 persons and scheduled a three-day, light tackle, deep-sea adventure off Chandelier Island in the Gulf, near Biloxi. We will be fishing there the last week of September, for red fish and Spanish mackerel. Stay tuned.
Victrola Correction For The Record
Rarely does it happen, but, occasionally, I report something incorrectly. I can live with grammatical errors more readily than I can with a factual error. Recently, I have relied upon my wife as my sole proofreader, and she does an excellent job of catching misused words (form instead of from, to instead of too, etc.), or missing words, that escape my eye. However, when I write about a family matter from the past, she pretty much takes for granted that the information is factual.
In making my thoughts available via a newsletter, my personal goal is to have all facts correctly stated, but I recognize that some obscure events are subject to being recalled with a flawed memory. Whenever, someone points out a factual error, I will try to issue a correction as soon as possible.
A recent family gathering resulted in an assault upon one of my articles by my sister, brother, and aunt. The Carter Victrola that I described earlier as the one gutted by Fred Carter and is now in use by my daughter, was not the Victrola belonging to my grandparents, Hayden and Becky Carter of Thaxton, MS. I suppose I knew that, but failed to remember it until it was somewhat diplomatically pointed out to me. (Theirs was the diplomacy of lions feuding over first rights to a kill.)
The other Victrola, described as the Crausby Victrola did belong to my Mama Nona as I reported but according to Aunt Jo, Jack Ray, not R.L. RAY as stated in the article, owned the store that gave away the Victrola. I never heard of Jack Ray, but that is not to say Aunt Jo is wrong.
So whose Victrola wound up in Rayanne's house?
It was one given to my family by my mother's uncle, Dial Vaughan. (Dial is pronounced "Dal" to rhyme with pal.) I vaguely remember when Dial delivered the old Victrola, but Sarah seems to have a good recollection of when and why.
As to the Victrola owned by my Carter grandparents, well, Sarah seems to think our cousin Homer Gaillard may have ended up with it. Having stated the above, I trust the matter is settled to the satisfaction of all.
Meanwhile, if you'll bet on the correctness of my memories, you'll be dollars ahead of what you'd have if you wagered on games of chance at a nearby Casino. One bet is almost a sure thing; the other is a sucker's bet.
Bodock Beau Lightheaded Humor
Beau received some more blonde jokes and asked me to pass them along to you. The first two come by way of Becky Donavan of Tennessee. The first one is reportedly a true story.
Last summer, on California's Lake Isabella, located in the high desert, an hour east of Bakersfield, a woman, who happened to be blonde, and new to boating was having a problem. No matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't get her brand new 22-ft Bayliner to perform. It wouldn't get on a plane at all, and it was very sluggish in almost every maneuver, regardless of the power she applied.
After about an hour of trying to make it go, she sputtered into a nearby marina. A thorough topside
check revealed everything was in perfect working order. The engine was fine. The outdrive went up and down, and the prop was the correct size and pitch. One of the marina's guys jumped in the water to check underneath. He came up choking on water he was laughing so hard. Under the boat, still strapped securely in place, was the trailer.
"How come you're late?" asks the bartender as the blonde waitress walks in the door.
"It was awful," she explains. "I was walking down Elm Street, and there was this terrible accident. A man was lying in the middle of the street; he had been thrown from his car. His leg was broken; his skull was fractured, and there was blood everywhere. Thank God, I had taken that first-aid course; all my training came back to me in a minute."
"What did you do?" asks the bartender.
"I sat down and put my head between my knees to keep from fainting!"
The following were received from Joe Fannin:
One day, a man comes home from work and finds his blonde wife leaning over the kitchen sink and crying and asked, "Honey, what's wrong?"
She said, between sniffles, "I...I dropped the ice cubes on the floor, and
then I rinsed them
"Gosh", said the blonde to the man sitting opposite her. "You look just like my fifth husband."
"Really," said the man, "And how many husbands have you had?"
Two small boys, not yet old enough to be in school, were overheard talking one day.
"My name is Billy. What's yours?" asked the first boy.
"Tommy", replied the second.
"My daddy's an accountant. What does your Daddy do for a living?" asked Billy.
Tommy replied, "My daddy's a lawyer."
"Honest?" asked Billy.
"No, just the regular kind," replied Tommy.
A waiter had badly injured his leg and was lying on a trolley in casualty waiting for assistance. Suddenly he saw a Doctor walk past.
"Doctor, please help me," said the waiter, "I've been here for over 3 hours!"
"I'm sorry", said the Doctor, "but it's not my table!"
New Country and Western Song....She was only a moon-shiner's daughter, but I loved her still.
Yo mama's so fat that, to get her in the house, you got to grease the doorway and throw a Twinkie through the doorway in front of her.
Copyright © 1998-99 RRN Online.