Cordis Young
Obituary Update
The obituary in the Northeast Mississippi Daily Journal, announcing
the death of Cordis D. "Tot" Young, briefly listed the routine facts found
in the average obituary, including the age at the time of death, work history,
surviving family members as well as those family members already deceased,
pallbearers, and of course the funeral home in charge of the arrangements.
I was not privileged to know all of Mr. Young’s brothers and sister
who predeceased him, but I did know Mr. William "Billy" Young and his family.
In recent years, through this newsletter and my friendship with Cordis and
Cubell Young, I’ve gotten to know Mr. Cordis’s younger brother,
Wayne Young, of West Memphis, AR, whom I finally met while visiting Mr. Cordis
during his most recent hospitalization. If the Youngs that I know are
representative of the entire family, then a large number of folks have been
blessed in knowing them.
I wouldn’t call it an error or an omission in the obituary of Cordis
Young, nor should it be counted as an oversight, but there was one surviving
family member not listed, namely Rascal. Rascal is the family dog, but, as
you’ll soon read, doesn’t know he’s a dog.
According to Miss Cubell, on the last day she and Mr. Cordis worked at the
laundry, before he became ill, Mr. Cordis was restless and had fixated his
thoughts on Rascal’s welfare.
"He told me, ‘Somebody’s got Rascal,’" she recalled.
"No, Daddy, he’s right outside," she insisted.
Rascal was brought inside to sit in Mr. Cordis’ lap and then later returned
to his post of duty. But, with Rascal once more out of his sight, Mr. Cordis
was again convinced that Rascal had been abducted.
Over the last few years, Mr. Cordis became increasingly dependent upon his
wife, and while he helped her with simple chores at the laundry, he required
constant direction and supervision. He deteriorated mentally to the extent
he was unable to bathe and dress himself, but his love for family and his
pet dog seemed to abide. In light of his love for Rascal,
Ridge Rider
News proudly reprints an article from November 2000:
Rascal Reflects
I have an unusual name. It's Rascal. No, it's not a nickname; it's my real
name. In fact, it's my full name. Unlike most people, I don't have a last
name, first name, and middle initial. All I've got is one name, so I guess
you'd say my first name is my last name. Now that you know my name, let me
tell you where I live. On a typical day you can find me at the foot of the
hill where 10th Street meets up with South Main in Pontotoc. Some
of you may know a laundry business is also there.
I spend most days outside the laundry beneath a black locust tree, sharing
my space with a seldom-used flatbed trailer. I consider it an honor to guard
the premises and the Youngs who operate the laundry. I wish I knew what operating
a laundry was all about, but I haven't figured it out. Shoot, I haven't figured
out what operating is, either, but if it's got anything to do with a Vet,
I'd just as soon not know.
A lot of folks drive up front and take something inside the laundry, then
leave for a while, and later they come back, go inside again, and come back
out toting what they took in to start with. It may be that I don't see from
the right angle, but what they tote out sure looks bigger, than what they
toted in.
I've learned the cars and trucks driven by most of the folks who come by
the laundry. I don't bark at anyone I recognize, but if somebody I don't
know sets foot on the place, I will bark my head off. Okay, I don't really
bark my head off, but you know what I mean. Did I say bark? Yeah, that's
what people say I do, but it's really just how I talk.
Some people call me a dog, but I think they just do that to agitate me. Heck,
I'm as smart as most people and not near as irritable as some. There's this
one guy who comes by that loves to pick at me. I know him whether he drives
up in a blue pickup or his black car, but what I can't figure out is why
the truck has a Pontotoc license, and the car has a Sunflower license. Oh
well, maybe he has two homes.
Anyway, as I was about to say, it's just like him to walk over to my shade
tree and rub my stomach, before he goes inside the laundry. I don't mind
him doing that, but every once in a while he tells me I'm a dog. He says
he does so to remind me that I'm really a dog, and it don't matter whether
I think I'm a people or not, he says I'm still a dog. Maybe he knows something
I don't. I may look like a dog to him, but I get treated like a people.
In return for my service as a guard, I get to live in the old building next
door to the laundry. It used to have gas pumps out front and groceries inside,
at least Papa Young told me that it did. Nowadays, it's a storage building,
and I've got my own bed in there. Every day that Papa Young works he, or
his son, Durwood, takes me out under the tree and then back to my house at
closing time.
You know what the best part of the day is for me, not counting the part I
sleep, and that part [which] would [include] be[ing] in the shade when it's
hot and next to a dryer vent when it's cold? The best part? It's breakfast.
Don't misunderstand, I enjoy all my meals, and some of the regulars that
come by the laundry will share some of their food with me, but breakfast
is my favorite meal. Mama Young brings me a "people breakfast" every morning,
except on Sunday. I get to go inside the laundry for a few minutes on workdays,
and she hand-feeds me every bite of breakfast, then on Sunday, I get a special
treat.
An old black man named Mr. Alford Johnson gets up early, drives over to Mama
Young's house, picks up my breakfast, and brings it to me. Usually, I have
scrambled eggs, toast, and bacon. Talk about special treatment…I get
it. I don't know how long he's been doing that for me, but it seems like
he's been bringing me breakfast in bed every Sunday since I got weaned. I
really enjoy his company, and I hope he doesn't get too old to come by. I
worry sometimes that I won't see him again, and when he got sick a few months
ago, I thought he might have died when he didn't show up for a few weeks.
I was some kind'a glad to see him after he got better.
I hear people talking about getting ready for Thanksgiving and while they
may not think I've got anything to be thankful for, they're mistaken. I have
tons of stuff to be thankful for. I'm thankful for the food I'm given, the
place I have to call my home, my people parents, and especially for my Uncle
Alford. Well, he's not really my uncle, but he doesn't mind me calling him
uncle. I'm also thankful for all my friends who visit me throughout the week,
and while I wouldn't want it to get back to him that I said it, I'm thankful
for the guy in the black car with the Sunflower license plates. Above all,
I am thankful for my Creator, and for him giving me a home among such wonderful
other people. [11/18/2000]
Three Trees
Bradford Pear, Maple, And Oak
When it comes to trees, I’m something of a conservationist in that I
think our planet’s rain forests in developing countries should be protected
and properly managed to preserve and maintain a healthy ecosystem. In our
own nation, I believe we need to keep all the sequoias we have, harvesting
only those whose removal is necessary to keep other sequoias healthy. I have
a real problem with the practice of growing and cutting all members of the
Christmas Tree family, for it is not only a waste of natural resources, but
discarded trees often end up in landfills or burned, rather than recycled
into mulch or submerged as structure in fish ponds.
Thus, it may sound that I’ve compromised my principles to announce that
last Saturday I cut down three innocent and perfectly healthy trees. One
was the Bradford pear that stood between my house and the guesthouse. The
other two were in my sister’s front yard.
I’ve trimmed back the pear tree each year since buying a chain saw a
few years ago. I did so for the purpose of shaping it or else removing branches
that were touching the roof of the guesthouse. However, after five autumns
of sweeping its leaves from the garage and raking them out of the nearby
flower beds, five winters of marble-sized pears falling to rot on walkways
and automobiles, and five springtimes of sweeping up blossoms, I decided
it was time to remove the tree. I also considered that, from a safety point
of view, the tree was too close to a dwelling, especially given the history
of our stormy area.
Bye To The Bradford
I’ll miss its cooling shade in summer,
And white blossoms in the spring,
I won’t miss cleaning up its messes,
Or mockingbird perched high to sing.
wlc 2005
When Sarah bought her house, there were three trees in her front yard, a
Bradford pear, a maple, and a pin oak. A storm last year halved the pear
tree, then a kindly neighbor removed the remnant, and I later had the stump
ground away.
Teenage vandals bent on decorating a teacher’s yard with toilet paper
have targeted all the trees in my sister’s yard on multiple occasions.
There was a time when a teacher had to contend with such only on the night
of Halloween, but in recent years, the practice begins early in September
and extends to the winter holidays. A few weeks ago, teens representing a
local church, while supposedly engaged in learning to be more Christ-like,
decorated the remaining two trees.
My sister has often commented, "I should have the trees cut down. That way
they can’t throw toilet tissue in them."
In the past, I discouraged Sarah from wishing away her trees, as they do
add a little beauty to her home, plus I figured teens would continue to decorate
whatever else exists, such as shrubbery. However, the last bout with vandals
became the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back.
In explaining to Sarah my intention to cut down my pear tree, I asked, "Do
you want me to cut your trees while I’m at it?"
"Yes," she replied, "but leave my little maple."
"Your maple has toilet tissue in it, right now. If you leave it standing,
they’ll just continue to decorate it," I responded.
Last Saturday, Sam Lester was visiting Jason at the time I powered up my
chainsaw to fell the Bradford pear at my house. With Sam and Jason helping,
the pear tree was soon parceled up and hauled to the roadside.
I think Sam was ready to run a few errands when we finished the pear tree,
but I talked him into helping us cut the two trees in Sarah’s yard.
Because the oak tree was close to power lines, I was careful to cut it so
that it fell away from the lines. I misjudged where it would fall, and, in
doing so, watched it pull down the cable TV and phone lines. I also misjudged
the hardness of the oak and my physical energy was sapped by the time the
tree hit the ground. I was extremely glad to have two strong young men to
carry the limbs to the road, as I cut them from the trunk.
I might have left the maple, but the oak broke a large limb off the little
maple as it fell. After cutting the maple, I handed the chainsaw to Jason,
and he finished sectioning it, while I took a breather.
Untitled Limerick
There once was a teacher named Sara Sue,
Who had three trees, then two.
She asked of her brother
And not of another,
To dissuade vandals, the maple and oak hew.
wlc 2005
(Rather than laughing at the Editor’s poetic attempts in this article,
readers are challenged to submit a better rhyme for the circumstances described.)
Last Saturday, I managed to offend my conservationist principles, but I take
consolation in knowing the three trees were recycled into mulch.
Fourth
Birthday FBC Belmont Family Life Center
Katherine Carter Adams, my youngest granddaughter, had her fourth birthday
on Saturday, February 19th. Naturally, Barbara and I were invited,
as was our oldest granddaughter, Anna Butler, who traveled with us in her
own car from Pontotoc to Belmont. It was a "dress up" party with guests dressed
to the nines replete with makeup. I should clarify that guests are herein
defined as little girls and do not include adults.
From what I observed, the eleven children enjoyed themselves, though one
guest pouted briefly because her mother made her wear lipstick. Before presents
were opened, guests enjoyed "high tea" and took turns trying on outfits behind
a screen and then modeling them.
Iced cupcakes with sprinkles took the place of birthday cake and there was
no ice cream, but no one complained. It was a perfect party for little girls
as there were no little boys invited, which was okay by me, because I doubt
a little boy would have enjoyed playing dress up with a bunch of girls.
After the party that morning, Barbara and I stopped by Rayanne’s house
to see Katherine’s newly decorated room, which Katherine seemed to be
as thrilled about as any present. Her room was painted pink, and a new wallpaper
border of flowers, butterflies, and ladybugs rimmed the walls where walls
joined the ceiling. A new comforter and pillow shams matched the border.
Rayanne’s in-laws, Charles and Beckie Adams, along with Chuck and Cathy
Adams joined us for a lunch of hot dogs and sloppy joes at Rayanne’s
house. Barbara and I stayed until mid afternoon before heading back to Pontotoc,
stopping briefly to shop in Tupelo.
Bodock Beau
Dealing With Life's Burdens
Dealing with the burdens of life is truly a challenge, but here are some
insights that may prove helpful.
-
Accept that some days you're the pigeon, and some days you're the statue.
-
Always keep your words soft and sweet, just in case you have to eat them.
-
Always read stuff that will make you look good if you die in the middle of
it.
-
Drive carefully. It's not only cars that can be recalled by their maker.
-
If you can't be kind, at least have the decency to be vague.
-
If you lend someone $20 and never see that person again, it was probably
worth it.
-
It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning
to others.
-
Never buy a car you can't push.
-
Never put both feet in your mouth at the same time, because then you won't
have a leg to stand on.
-
Nobody cares if you can't dance well. Just get up and dance.
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Since it's the early worm that gets eaten by the bird, sleep late.
-
The second mouse gets the cheese.
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When everything's coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.
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Birthdays are good for you. The more of them you have, the longer you live.
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You may be only one person in the world, but you may also be the world to
one person.
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Some mistakes are too much fun to only make once.
-
We could learn a lot from crayons. Some are sharp, some are pretty and some
are dull. Some have weird names, and all are different colors, but they all
have to live in the same box.
-
A truly happy person is one who can enjoy the scenery on a detour.
Contributed by Ken Gaillard
Marriage Seminar
While attending a Marriage Seminar dealing with communication, Tom and his
wife Grace listened to the instructor, "It is essential that husbands and
wives know the things that are important to each other."
He addressed the man, "Can you describe your wife's favorite flower?"
Tom leaned over, touched his wife's arm gently and whispered, "It's Pillsbury,
isn't it?
The rest of the story gets rather ugly, so I'll stop right here.
Contributed by Rhea Palmer
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