March 04 '06

                                                    

Volume 509

                   


Copycats Neighborly Influences

Metal RoofingHaving a job that allows one to travel has its perks as well as problems. In my case, aside from the obvious advantages of being assigned a corporate automobile, there are more subtle advantages linked to travel, such as not having to work in one place all day, every day of the workweek. When I worked in a retail store, I was largely confined to that location, though from time to time I might be allowed to travel to a sister store to pickup something I was running low on, like a sale item. These days, I could work almost an entire year without going to the same store twice. Yet, in the practical sense it doesn’t work that way, as I only go to the stores that need my services. Yes, every store needs my services at some point in time, but travel is not always required.

Most of my travels are within the state of Mississippi, but I also make the occasional trek to Louisiana, southern Arkansas, west Tennessee, and west Alabama. It takes me at about an hour to get to my nearest SUPERVALU supplied, but most stores are at least two hours away from Pontotoc. I mention this to illustrate how my work allows me the opportunity to observe the countryside. And, it’s in observing the countryside that I’m often struck by the influential aspect of neighbors on neighbors.

In my youth, I heard adults speak of "keeping up with the Joneses." I didn’t know any Joneses until we moved back to Pontotoc, but I understood the expression to reflect the nature of humans to want something like someone else has, whether it’s a house, car, horse, barn, indoor plumbing, or similar nicety. In my childhood, the term for "keeping up with the Joneses," was simply, "copycat." I didn’t find the term flattering, but then I didn’t know the meaning of flattering, let alone how to be sarcastic. Instead, "copycat" meant someone was trying to copy or "be like" someone else. Though a slew of years has passed since I was a youth, folks still try to keep up with the Joneses and "copycats" still abound.

One of my regular routes to Indianola takes me through Coffeeville, MS. And, on Oak Street are two adjacent houses, each with an asphalt driveway. That the driveways are asphalt is not significant, but it’s worth noting that both are always immaculately kept, and about once every year or so the drives are mopped with a sealant to keep them looking new. It can’t be coincidence that both owners realize the need to reseal their respective drives at the same time; it’s got to be a case of "copycat."

Downtown Crenshaw, MS lies at the edge of the Mississippi Delta along the foothills of what I call "the hill country." If one turns eastward in downtown Crenshaw along Hwy. 310 that leads to Como, one will pass two adjacent houses before beginning the ascent into the hills. The lawns of both houses are manicured. The ranch-styled houses are similar, but it’s the lawns that set these two houses apart from the rest of the neighborhood. I’m of the opinion that if two leaves fall, one leaf on one lawn and one leaf on the other, there’s a race by the owners to see who can pick up his or her leaf first. If not "copycats," these folks definitely try to keep up with the Joneses.

Probably the most numerous examples of copycatting I observe relate to rural mailboxes. While there seems to be no limit to the differing mailbox mounts and mailbox styles, it’s not hard to spot the neighborly-influence factor. If one neighbor opts for the newer plastic models such as the all-in-one mailbox and mount, there’s a good possibility a nearby neighbor will do the same. Though miles separate the "fish mailboxes," a plastic catfish and a plastic bass, on Hwy 330 between Bruce and Coffeeville, I imagine the purchase of the first one influenced the purchase of the other one.

In my lifetime, I’ve witnessed the transition from tin-roofs to asphalt shingles, and now I may be seeing the reverse, as folks have begun to use metal roofs again. Granted, today’s metal roofs are more attractive than the tin ones of yesteryear, they’re still metal, and you can hear the rain falling on them when you can’t hear it on asphalt shingles.

The other Sunday afternoon, Barbara asked me to take her to Randolph to make a picture of one of the houses in the county that Habitat for Humanity built. On the way, I spotted a house with a metal roof.

"See that metal roof, Hon?" I quizzed. "I’ll bet there’s another metal roof nearby."

Sure enough, across the highway a neighbor could not resist the urge to keep up with the Joneses. We didn’t drive very far before we saw two more metal roofs.

"Can we count roofs of metal buildings?" I joked.

I can marvel or make fun of the "copycats" I see along my journeys, but if any of them ever drove into our Woodland Hills subdivision, I imagine they’d say the same thing about us. After all, every house has a bricked mailbox with a newspaper holder, where about the only difference is the color of the bricks. Yeah, in case you’re wondering, I live among a bunch of "copycats."


Dead Singers Society By Sarah Carter Brown

Several years ago the movie, Dead Poets Society, depicted the lives of a group of young students who named their reading group after the idea that the authors of the great poetry by which they were influenced were dead. I have noted with great sadness, while watching the series of Gaither Homecoming videos that those of us who listen are fast becoming the "Dead Singers Society."

Anthony Burger, Gaither's piano player died Feb. 22 of this year while performing on a Gaither Homecoming cruise out of Miami. Burger not only played piano, he also sang in a trio with Ivan Parker and Kirk Talley.

In late December, 2003, complications from the flu caused Sister Vestal Goodman’s death. Within a week, Jake Hess died after a long battle with heart disease. Of course, Sister Vestal’s husband, Howard, is gone too. Baritones, Glen Payne and James Blackwood are gone. Basses, J. D. Sumner, Rex Neelon and George Younce are gone now. Many of the faces on the videos are familiar, but I confess that I do not have a clue as to their names. Some of the older videos reveal faces that are not around for the newer videos.

Gospel music is fortunate that Bill Gaither has preserved the music and performances of these folks for those of us left behind. I do not own a single video, but thanks to the Gospel Music Network, I can catch a promotional video almost daily. I find that it is easy to sing along with the Gaither groups because they do not pitch the music in a key that is too high or too low for me. The average age of those folks must be 60-65, so they can't sing as high as they could in their prime, and neither can I.

When I was a child getting ready for Sunday School, Daddy listened to gospel music on television. Usually it was Jubilee or a similar show which featured the Happy Goodman Family, the Blackwood Brothers, or the Statesmen. At the time I did not care for that style of music, but I must have subliminally captured the melodies because I can now sing along with the old songs on the Gaither videos. I did not learn the songs at church, and I certainly did not learn them from the radio. However, on almost every Homecoming video, I find myself singing along to a classic gospel piece that I did not know I knew.

I can remember watching Sister Vestal and the rest of the Goodmans sing "I Wouldn't Take Nothing for My Journey Now" and "The Eastern Gate." By the seventies, I particularly liked Rusty Goodman's "Look for Me" and "Who Am I."

The first time I heard Vestal sing "What a Lovely Name" on a homecoming video, I knew almost every line. Where did that come from? I don't remember learning it as a child. I knew the chorus to "If We Never Meet Again this Side of Heaven" the first time I heard it on tape. The same thing was true of "Sheltered in the Arms of God." I don't remember Daddy playing those numbers on his fiddle or hearing Ellawese McCoy's family sing it around her piano. I must have heard the songs somewhere, but where and when?

It must have been on a gospel show that I learned "Oh What a Savior" because I knew that chorus, and the verse was vaguely familiar the first time I noted it on a video. In the dark recesses of my memory, I think I heard Rosie Rosell as the featured singer with some group on a gospel program when I was in my teens. Personally, I like to hear Ernie Haase sing it with Signature Sound. No one can sing the tenor like he does on that song.

Do not misunderstand me. Gospel music is not the type of music I want to sing in church. I still prefer "high-church" music in the sanctuary. Glorious anthems by a choir like "The Majesty and Glory of Your Name," "Unshakable Kingdom," or "When I Survey the Wondrous Cross" are the soul-stirring songs of my preference. However, in my leisure time I like to listen to the old gospel songs that Daddy made me listen to on those Sunday mornings so long ago.

My children do not care for gospel music. Felicia makes fun of me and asks me if I am trying to sound like Sister Vestal, as if anyone could sing like Vestal. Who knows what the future holds? I didn't like gospel music when I was young either. Perhaps, I had to have some life experiences in order to understand the music. Maybe when my children are in their fifties, they will appreciate it too.

I never cared for "I Will Meet You in the Morning," thinking it just too "country" until I heard it at Ellawese McCoy's funeral. The group that sang it for the funeral sang it smoothly and slower than I had remembered hearing it. Perhaps it was the meaning of the words, not the melody, that appealed to me: I will meet you in the morning with a "How do you do"
We’ll sit down by the river and with rapture old acquaintance renew
You'll know me in the morning by the smile that I'll wear
I will meet you in the morning in the city that is built foursquare.

Ellawese played piano by ear, and for many years accompanied a group of her friends every Tuesday evening at the nursing home playing the old hymns and a few singing convention songs in an effort to brighten the lives of the residents. The old people loved the songs. Not many people knew how much of her time Ellawese devoted to this endeavor, and I surmise that is the way we should go about doing good, quietly and without show. I sometimes wonder if Ellawese and I will meet up by that river. If we do, I suspect there will be a host of her friends from the nursing home surrounding her.

I miss singing in the choir, but my hours at work prevent regular attendance. I have always had a secret yen to make the cut for heaven's choir, but I am not too hopeful these days as I tend to think the competition will be pretty stiff. Instead, I comfort myself with the idea of singing by the river with Ellawese and the gang from the nursing home.


Meeting Barbara How I Met My Spouse

Ridge Rider News is now accepting submissions from its readership. We’d like to know how you met your spouse. Your story may be serious or humorous, sad or happy, though we suspect you won’t share a sad one. Still, we’re interested in what brought the two of you together. Here’s what the editor has to say about his meeting Barbara for the first time.

I was twenty-four years old and was in my second year as a math teacher at South Tippah High School in Ripley, MS. My dad’s sister, Nettie Mae Gaillard, provided me with room and board. Aunt Nettie Mae’s daughter-in-law, Frankie Gaillard, worked in a local factory with Virginia O’Kelly. One day the two of them discussed the idea of getting me introduced to Virginia’s younger sister, Barbara Crouch.

I wasn’t too keen on the idea of a "blind date," but based on Frankie’s glowing reports of Barbara, I agreed to pay a visit to Barbara at her parents’ home in Ripley. Frankie and I drove in separate cars. After a brief introduction, Barbara and I drove to a drive-in restaurant for a coke. We rode around town in my ’59 T-bird for a while, getting to know each other better, before I took her home.

I came away from that meeting with the feeling that Barbara just might be the person I would one day marry. As I recall our first real date was to the school-sponsored Sports Banquet. I know that the AG teacher, Gwen Winter, also attended the same banquet. His date was the lovely Gail Hobson of Ashland, MS. It was their first date, as well.

Something must have been in the stars that night, for a few months later, Gwen and Gail were married one day before Barbara and I tied the knot. The Winters and the Carters will celebrate their 39th wedding anniversaries on August 19 and August 20, 2006, respectively.

Reminder: Please submit your article before the first day of spring, March 20, 2006.


Middle Aged Sarah's Retribution

By her own definition, my daughter is now middle aged. Rayanne celebrated her birthday at our house on Saturday evening, February 25, two days before becoming middle aged.

"How does it feel to be middle aged?" Sarah asked my daughter.

There’s something about the female psyche that enables them to remember a caustic remark or to hold a grudge for years. Almost twenty years ago, on the occasion of Sarah’s thirty-fifth birthday Rayanne asked Sarah the age question. Ever since, Sarah has prayed she would live to see the day Rayanne became thirty-five.

"It feels fine," Rayanne responded, putting a good face on the situation.

We sang Happy Birthday to Rayanne and served the cake she had requested, a fresh apple cake with caramel icing. It would not have been my cake preference, but it wasn’t my birthday. We either didn’t have a no. 3 and no. 5 candle or couldn't find what we needed, so Barbara sank a ten-inch candle in the center of the cake and lit it for Rayanne to make a wish before blowing out the candle.

With any luck, Sarah will live to see Rayanne turn forty. I have the feeling a bigger celebration will be planned for that birthday party.


Bodock Beau Pirate At A Bar

If only I had a dollar for every joke involving a pirate in a bar. Oh well, what's one more joke?

Pirate at a bar

A pirate was talking to a "land-lubber" in a bar. The landlubber noticed that, like any self-respecting pirate, this guy had a peg leg, a hook in place of one of his hands and a patch over one eye. The landlubber just had to find out how the pirate got in such bad shape.

He asked the pirate, "How did you loose your leg?"

The pirate responded, "I lost me leg in a battle off the coast of Jamaica!"

His new acquaintance was still curious so he asked,

"What about you hand. Did you loose it at the same time?"

"No," answered the pirate. "I lost it to the sharks off the Florida Keys." Finally, the landlubber asked,

"I notice you also have an eye patch. How did you loose your eye?

The pirate answered, "I was sleeping on a beach when a seagull flew over and messed right in me eye."

The landlubber asked, "How could a little seagull droppings make you loose your eye?"

The pirate snapped, "It was the day after I got me hook!"

Ponderments

Did you ever notice, when you are sitting at a red light, that when the person in front of you pulls up a couple of inches, you are compelled to move up too? Do we really think we are making progress toward our destination? "Whew, I thought we would be late, but now that I am nine inches closer, I can stop for coffee and a Danish!"

Isn't it weird that we drink milk, stuff designed to nourish baby cows? How did that happen? Did some cattleman once say, "Oh, man, I can't wait till them calves are done so I can get me a hit of that stuff."

Copyright © 2000 - 2006 RRN Online.