Friday, September 16, 2016


It seems a strange thing

A very curious and strange thing that I have been privileged to witness the death of quite a few people during my time.

The strange part is the fact that I do feel privileged as opposed to grief, or sadness.   Certainly not happy in any way, and some I would take great pleasure in being able to once again enjoy their company and conversation... even their love.  To once again see their smiles and hear their stories.

But, I mean to say that I am glad, even if only for a moment, to have been touched by their lives.  Whether it was for good or ill.

I think the first death I was aware of was a young boy in my 6th grade class, Berven Chipley.  He and his brother we playing in the woods.  Their activity was finding dead pine trees that were still standing and if they could they'd push against them until they started rocking back and forth and snapped off.  Unfortunately on the last one when it snapped instead of falling away from them it snapped off and fell toward them.  His brother escaped, but a pine limb pierced him through the liver and pinned him to the ground.  

He'd seemed a happy boy with family that loved him.  While I was not close to him, nor attended his funeral, I marveled at the outpouring of grief and love my classmates expressed.  
My first glimpse of mortality.

The next followed soon after when my maternal Grandfather passed from stomach Cancer.  From a tall hale man he'd withered down to a shell of his former self, to the point that my mother could pick him up and turn him in his bed.  My Grandmother had started taking in borders to pay the bills when he got sick and she kept that up until dying many years later at the age of 75.  And I saw love and nurturing, caring, yes and grief, but an enduring spirit that always stuck with me.

A great uncle who died of leukemia not long after I'd married.

Young student pilots engaged in forbidded helicopter antics during flight school in Mineral Wells, Texas

Comrades-in-Arms in Vietnam.  Some by enemy action, many during acts of heroism, a couple by suicide, and two by stupidity.
Some were very close and dear to me and many I only knew because we served together.  All touched me more than I would recognize or admit for long years after.

And there were the enemy.  Quite a few I'm sure by my actions.
I learned to respect them.

So many through the years, for it seems that as the years go faster so to do the number of deaths that impact you pile up faster and faster.  And each one leaves it's mark.

My father in an accident, totally unexpected.  Grandmother, Grandfather, aunts and uncles.  My Mother after a long long struggle.

And along the way there were the animals; dogs, cats, cows, horses, and of course the animals that provided food.

I'd never been afraid of making the hard choice and even committed a few in great anger that it was necessary.  Maybe because in some way I caused it, or contributed to it.

But, now I'm faced with the, not possibility, but the certainty that my old dog, Gracie Mae, that Dalmatian, fur shedding, one blue eye and one brown, almost 19 years of happiness and joy of having me as her human is literally on her (I want to say last legs) but, the front two work fine.  And she gives the first impression of being much younger, as she runs to see me, begs for touching and petting pushing herself up against me, just for the pleasure it gives her seemingly to have me around.

I'm faced with the choice of keeping her around until she one day can't or won't be able to get up, or paying some veterinarian that doesn't know her to give a final injection, or do it myself in a somewhat more brutal, but almost Viking send off.  Which thing I have done many times..

But this time. 

 

Sunday, May 31, 2015

And sometimes stuff happens


A quiet day here in the pecan orchard.  Eschewing church for the opportunity to wash, dry and fold some laundry..........floors got mopped the deck cleared of oak detritus the tree rats insist on causing to fall.
The old spotted dog even got washed.  Which came as quiet a surprise to her.

When the cabin fever got too bad I drove over to a buddy's and helped him put a new radiator in a Crown Vic he's been trying to get running, while waiting for a title to be found.  Nice former police care but hasn't been running in a while.  Supposedly all that was wrong with it was the radiator was leaking. Based solely  on the fact that it over heated on a drive to town.  And the previous owner telling the same story.

Anyhoo the radiator got changed out with only a small amount of skin and blood lost.

Crank the Car.  Start filling radiator...........everything sounds good........but it sure seems to take a lot of water.  Look under the car to see if anything can be seen.

Water running out as fast as going in.  Oh, probably heater core he thinks.  So we bypass the heater core.  Surely this will fix it.  Try it again.......

STUFF!!

Probably a cracked block.....

I quietly exit the neighborhood before he can get it jacked up and goes ballistic.

Sometimes you just don't get a break.

Saturday, May 30, 2015


First tentative steps back into the Interwebz 


Welcome back to the world of the semi-concious.  Just over two years have passed since I put anything out to the world.  Lots has gone on. Most of it not worth explaining.

Couple of things stick out:

1.  I don't care to be a part of the populace that keeps the current system in place as far as my God-given rights are concerned.  I'll watch and perhaps comment if I just can't help myself, but, for the most part, consider what happens in Washington, DC, HollyshitWood, and things reported by the MSM as something beneath notice most days.

2.  I'll try to give you a taste of rural life and the efforts I'm making to make things grow around here.

kdzu

Monday, May 27, 2013

Memorial Day 2013

A gentle lesson.

Some congratulate Veterans on Memorial Day.

I worked behind the shop and mowed the entire lawn today.

And thought............

Of all the barbeques and boats bobbing in the lake and all the bottles and cans of beer Consumed...

but, I didn't think much on them.


Please in no way take the next words as rebuke.  I was honored to serve my country as I thought I understood it and the Constitution we took oath to defend.  I am honored that you think of me as hero.  I will always try to be that for you as much as I know how.  My time as soldier marked me forever, ill or good.  Contributed to what and how I am today.  I have an ever greater appreciation of that as the days go by.

But, Memorial day, I'm afraid, will always be a time of sadness somewhat for me, for it is not just the barbeques, or the parades and the politicians high sounding blathering s to masses of ignorant sheeple.  Not stupid people, but people who yearn to have someone tell them what to think and do

Rather, I remember the dead I personally know and those I never knew, except through stories and histories, personal accounts of people who did know and serve with them, before my time and now in wars and conflicts both known and unknown, who believed and believe they were/are doing something required and right, whether it is/was or not, whether it truly made a difference, or not.

I remember the mother and father I had to inform that their precious son was not just missing, but gone.  Obliterated as if he had never been in the front seat of that Cobra, never ran home from school with excitement to tell of what he had learned that day, never taken his first turn behind the wheel of the family car, mother or father nervously watching, hoping he'd never be in an accident where they were not there to guide and counsel him out of the danger zone.
Remember those I saw fall, salute the boots and helmets, grief for the lose of their camaraderie, shameful for the relief that........there but for the grace of God.........

Mine not the only story, only one........one out of all the hundreds of thousands. 

Stories we should remember with sadness and pride, not only on Memorial Day, but each and every day.

Sunday, May 05, 2013

AGW Just Damn

Can you believe this weather?
No?
Neither do I.  52 degrees on May 4th, 9:20 in the am. with wind blowing 15 to 30 mph.

I've always been glad to live in the South............ Now?  I'm beginning to want to move farther south.

This is the time I've lain by corn before, or was at least giving it a first weeding.  Around the Kudzu area the farmers are just now planting their silage corn, and probably wondering if they'll have to re-plant

Makes me want to go and stick a pin in Al Gore

Saturday, April 27, 2013

The Possum

Ol' "Possum" is gone.  All my life I've identified with so many of the lyrics he wrote and the songs he sang.  Always leading with his heart.  And sometime having that sucker stomped flat.  Like I say, "identify".
If I could go back in time and change any of the choices.......... I don't believe truly that I'd change a one.

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Wednesday, January 16, 2013

For the love of little Chill dren

And the peace of mind of all the world, you need to turn in those evil guns right now.

Never mind that just over 129 years ago our peace loving government disarmed almost 300 of our citizens with heroic bravery.

http://www.commonsensejunction.com/?p=21553&print=1

December 29, 2012 marked the 122nd Anniversary of the murder of 297 Sioux Indians at Wounded Knee Creek on the Pine Ridge Indian Reservation in South Dakota. These 297 people, in their winter camp, were murdered by federal agents and members of the 7th Cavalry who had come to confiscate their firearms “for their own safety and protection.” The slaughter began after the majority of the Sioux had peacefully turned in their firearms. The Calvary began shooting, and managed to wipe out the entire camp. 200 of the 297 victims were women and children. About 40 members of the 7th Cavalry were killed, but over half of them were victims of fratricide from the Hotchkiss guns of their overzealous comrades-in-arms. Twenty members of the 7th Cavalry’s death squad, were deemed “National Heroes” and were awarded the Medal of Honor for their acts of [cowardice] heroism.

With, I have been told, approximately 1/16 Cherokee blood running through my veins, and the rest consisting of the blood of US citizens going back to at least the early 1700's I'm really reassured by the care and concern our government is showing for us.