Rons Rants

Too Cool!!

2011-11-28T23:44:00.002-05:00

Wow! I wasn’t sure that anyone other than Jean still checked in here anymore. Imagine my surprise at seeing all of you. Thanks to all of you for your kind and clever words. Jean and Kdzu…..thanks a ton. Almost Candy (love the name) and Goatman (not too sure about that one yet!)…very nice to “meet” you both and thanks.

Now that I think I’ve figured out how to sit at this laptop comfortably for more than a minute or so at a time, I may be able to get back to writing a bit.

Thanksgiving was spent doing the family thing at my eldest sister Colleen’s home. It was really strange not having Michelle there. It’s funny but even though I have a very vocal and loving family, Michelle really wasn’t discussed much at all. I think we’ve all pretty much come to terms with her loss and it’s just too damned painful to talk about it. She’s like the little adorable little elf in the room. (She was too tiny to be the ‘elephant in the room’).

I don’t know when I’ll be able to talk about her without going into a depression but…I have a feeling that it may take a while.

God this sucks.

Well….anyway, we all got through the day, had a pretty good time and ate too much. I went home, watched football and went to bed! Woohoo….party animal huh?

Saturday my beloved University of South Carolina Gamecocks kicked the crap out of our arch enemy, the Clemson Tigers!

The very next day, I ended up back at the ER!

This heart thing is getting to be a pain in the…..well…chest.

Seriously though, nothing short of a heart transplant is going to cure it so…I just have to try and deal with it. My family thinks I’m an idiot but I don’t want a heart transplant and don’t think I’d accept one if I was offered one. It’s probably a moot point anyway due to a few additional health factors.

Between the horror stories I’ve heard about living as a transplant recipient…there is the fact that I honestly can’t stand the way the future is looking. Not for me but for the world. Dear lord it’s looking bleak out there folks. I truly feel sorry for kids who are growing up to face what’s coming in the next few decades. I honestly believe that it’s going to make the Great Depression look like a few months of summer camp in comparison. But…that’s another topic altogether.

I have decided to one thing however….I’m going to live what’s left of my life to the fullest and use this blog to tell a few stories that only a dying man could get away with. I’m serious.

I’ve looked into ways to make money from it but I don’t know if I’m going to be able to swing it so…why the hell not just tell them anyway?

One of them is the story of how I took my revenge on a guy who deserved it if anyone ever did. I’m not proud of it now and have even asked forgiveness from my God for what I did but…that’s the “spiritual” Ron….the “human” Ron still feels satisfied about what I did to that sorry piece of crap. Yep....as a Christian, I have 'issues'.

So….if you feel the urge, check by from time to time and hopefully you will catch a few strange tales from yours truly. I hate typing and haven’t found a voice recognition software program that works for me but…..I’ll give it a shot. My first story however will be a pretty funny one based on a conversation I had just the other day.

Absolutely out of the blue I was reminded of a thing my brother, his best friend Billy and of course, I did to a group of Christian kids called the R.A.’s almost 27 years ago. For those of you who have the misfortune of being born and raised outside the Southern Baptist church….the R.A.’s are the Royal Ambassadors of Christ. Wow….twenty seven years ago….ain’t that a hoot?

I know, I know….sounds like this is leading to something weird but it’s more along the lines of an old time southern ‘rite of passage’ deal. Looking back however, I realize that it could have turned out very different than it actually did but still….it was a pretty wild experience for all of those who were there.

As anyone knows, one of the most notorious southern traditions is called the Snipe Hunt. Hell, I don’t know…..maybe Yankee boys endure a northern version of the snipe hunt but I’m not certain of it.

Anyway, I’m going to write about that incident because not only is it an absolutely true story, it’s somewhat exciting, dangerous and funny at the same time. So….you be the judge.

Truth is that in this day and sensitive climate, we might have ended up as headline news and in jail! Who knows?

It may take awhile but…what the hell?

I’ll be back soon to begin the tale. Good Lord willing and my heart holds out!

It's Been A Very Long Time...

2011-11-14T23:23:00.007-05:00

Yep, it's been a very long time since I've blogged.

I just spoke with my old blog friend Jean in sunny Florida a couple of days ago. As a result, I decided to try logging on and I swear it took me over a half hour of jumping through I-hoops to get to the point where I could make this entry. Not much seems to have changed in the inner workings of it however so....that's a good thing for me. I'm not much of a "change" kind of guy. I was really dreading getting back in to blogger so...that wasn't so bad.

For now, I guess I'm going to try and get back in the blog saddle soon. It's a pretty good way to kill time or vent a little bit. Lord knows it sure has been an incredibly tough couple of years for me. But...I don't know if I want to write about it.

I guess I could write about some of what has taken place but for the most part...I'm still trying to figure it out.

Stuff like the fact that my precious little wife Michelle passed away July 3rd of this year.

I can't begin to tell you how tough it's been living without her. Somehow I simply wasn't prepared for her to be GONE. Man...She’s actually gone. FOREVER. I know, I know....it sounds stupid as hell but I just wasn't ready for it. She fought a ten year battle against an almost invincible cancer and still I wasn't ready for it.

What a dumb ass.

What I do know for sure is that losing her damn near killed me. No exaggeration....I've spent the past few months in and out of hospitals including almost two weeks in intensive care! Dear Lord am I a wuss or what? I lose one little pain in the ass woman and I go all to hell! Who would've thunk it?

My heart almost literally quit on me the week after she passed away. Sounds like a bunch of soap opera meets Oprah/touchy feely horse manure but it's true! It was too overwhelming to believe.

Well, I'm still here and actually seem to be getting much better so....I suppose it's time that I get busy trying to do something besides go to the office and coming back to an empty house. Man....sounds like a line out of a W channel movie of the week don't it?

Anyway......

I hope to be back here real soon,

Ron

Me And The Rabid Raccoon

2009-11-19T01:29:00.002-05:00

We live in the mountains so, we often have to deal with wild animals hanging around our property but recently, I was confronted by a creature that basically 'called me out!'.

For the past few weeks, our little cocker spaniel 'Molly' has been terrified to venture off the deck. It has been a chore simply to make her go outside to relieve herself. She's been making herself miserable holding it as long as possible before she finally conceded to venture into the yard to...well GO.

We knew that a mountain lion had mauled a horse in the valley not three hundred yards from our place a month ago and that several bears had been spotted roaming around but....we had seen no sign of those critters anywhere near our house but....Molly was being spooked by SOMETHING.

We HAD noticed that our heavy duty outdoor trash cans had been disturbed a bit but pretty much unsuccessfully. We could see deep scratches on the lids and sides and once, a can had been toppled over. No small feat really as they are pretty heavy cans.

Well, a couple of nights ago, the little mystery was solved.

Michelle had gone to bed around ten o'clock and I was reading in the living room when Molly came over to my chair and proceeded to stare a hole in me.

Damn I wish we could teach her how to tell us what the hell she wants but....it ain't gonna happen.

So.....after finishing a paragraph, I asked her if she wanted to go outside and she damn near freaked!

She began growling, spinning in circles, whining....I mean...she was really acting weird.

I laughed, headed to the kitchen door as she led the way.

As soon as I touched the door knob, Molly froze and began growling.

Let me explain....Molly is a little wimp. She pees herself when strangers walk on the deck. She's completely house broken until a stranger shows up.

So, you can understand how unnerved I was that Molly The Wonder Wuss was acting like a demon dog from Hell.

Well, something told me to go to my bedroom closet and grab my .22 caliber nine shot revolver. The weather was mild, the moon was bright so I figured that pretty much ANYTHING might be wandering around the house that night. I put on a pair of flip flops....bad move....and went back to the kitchen/deck door. Molly had her nose pressed against the door as I slowly pulled it open. She damn near ran through the screen before I could stop her with a shout. She backed off and I was just about to slide the screen back when I decided to turn on the deck lights. Molly growled and whined....I know....a weird combination but....it's Molly The Wonder Wuss.

Just as I flipped the light switch, Molly went absolutely postal!! She began barking and jumping at the screen door frantically!

I leaned closer to the door and was met by the grin of the biggest frigging raccoon I have EVER seen!

This damned thing was HUGE!

It was bigger than Molly for sure.....she weighs about twenty five or thirty pounds I suppose and the raccoon dwarfed her. The raccoon was the size of a medium sized Labrador AND....it was PISSED!

The damned thing threw itself against the screen door with a low, throaty snarl and I would have sworn that it would rip through the screen. Instead, it bounced back a few feet as Molly went even crazier and regrouped for a second attack.

And attack it did!!

It came screaming toward the door and propelled it's weight into the door AGAIN!!

He bounced back and summoned his strength for ANOTHER attack.

Even though I was inside the house, the noise of Molly going nuts, the sight of this raccoon going all Animal Kingdom on me and the fact that Michelle come flying into roughtthe room was just TOO overwhelming so..........I shot the damned thing....through the closed screen door!

TWICE!!

Folks....I'm here to tell you that I hit that thing dead center....twice with hollow point long rifle pistol shots and all it did was sit back on its haunches and STARE AT ME!

Michelle looked at me and with her normal understated humor said.

“You missed him Matt Dillon.”

I shook my head and laughed.

“Hell no I didn't...I nailed him......I'll be right back. Shut the door.”

I went to my nightstand and grabbed my .357 Magnum.

As I came back into the kitchen, Molly was cowering in the corner and Michelle was looking outside.

“Ron....that thing is HUGE!” she gasped. “What's it doing now?”

I joined her at the door and saw the raccoon standing on its hind legs, pawing at the air and howling!

That's when Michelle noticed the frothy foam on the screen door.

“Honey....that poor thing has rabies!” she said.

Well damn!

“Look, I'm gonna go around the house, come up on the back deck and drill his ass. Keep his attention on this door....flash the light, knock on the glass but keep his attention okay?” I asked.

“Be careful!” she ordered.

I went out the front door and slowly (hell, that's the only speed I have these days!) and slowly made my was around the house until I was within forty feet of the back door area. I thought I was doing pretty good until my right foot sandal caught on a board and I stumbled (I stumble a lot these days). Well....when I stumbled, the giant raccoon turned, looked in my direction and began to creep my way. It moved very slowly like a cat stalking a mouse. I watched it come closer and to be honest....I was VERY nervous!

I had just begun to formulate a strategy when the damned critter started moving pretty fast....straight at me!

I barely had time to swing the large pistol into position.

My first shot from about twenty feet lit up the dark night and sounded like a cannon going off in the calm night. I later found out that the first shot actually blew off the left rear wheel of our BBQ grill!

I fired again.

This shot either grazed the raccoon or startled it because it whirled around in a couple of circles then it did the damnedest thing.

It sat on its haunched for a second, shook its head a couple of times, began making a howling noise and began to slowly walk toward me.

Dear LORD!!

This friggin' thing was possessed!

Robo-Raccoon!!

Well...the third shot was dead solid perfect.

I had never before actually shot a living thing with a .357 magnum before.

It practically RAINED raccoon on my deck.

Without getting TOO graphic....let's just say that it cost me $100.00 to get that raccoon and what was left of it off my back deck!

I didn't want to deal with it, didn't want Michelle messing with it (she would have) nor did I want Molly getting into it so, I hired our valley neighbor Jason to take care of it. Jason will do almost anything if the money is right!

Anyway...such is life in the mountains these days.

See ya'll again soon.

Ron

The Day I Was Mistaken For A Serial Killer!

2009-11-04T14:31:00.002-05:00

Now.....don't laugh.

This could actually happen to you.

I'm swear that I'm not making this shit up. I actually WAS mistaken for a notorious serial killer.

I was reminded of this incident the other day when I saw a report about serial killer and the death penalty.

Okay....so...here's the deal. This should be a really quick tale because it happened so damned quickly that it just COULDN'T be a long story.

Right?

Oh well....it IS me telling the story so....here goes. I'll try and keep it brief.

Back in May of 1985, a maniac who believed he was Jesus Christ abducted and murdered a young girl in Lexington, SC. Her name was Shari Smith and she lived on Platt Springs Road. So did I.

Larry Gene Bell was the maniac who killed her.

Bell was in his thirties, had medium brown, longish hair, a beard, had attended Eau Claire High School, was somewhat large if not actually overweight and about six feet tall. Oh yeah...he was known to drive a large, burgundy colored Oldsmobile sedan.

Well.....ditto on ALL OF THE ABOVE for ME!!

Granted....I was only driving the Oldsmobile land yacht because my car had died and I was driving my father in law's car but...aside from that small detail....

And of course....that whole SERIAL KILLER thing......

I may have well have BEEN.....Larry Gene Bell.

Okay....so as if THAT wasn't weird enough....Shari Smith's brother was actually working for me in a building supply store where I had conned myself into a job/partnership.

Hell, I didn't know a hammer from a chisel but, somehow I had managed to get the job but....that's another story.

Anyhow.....Shari's brother Robert was a good young kid.

However...I digress.

Shari Smith had been abducted from her own driveway by Larry Gene Bell on the 31st of May. She was an extremely popular young lady and reports of her disappearance spread like wildfire in our small community.

Several days into her disappearance, I was at work and speaking with a customer, Mike Black about the case. At the time, Mike was a Lieutenant with the state bureau of investigation. We had grown friendly while we dealt with the construction of his new home. I sold him almost everything he needed to build the house and we drank a lot of beer together on the job site.

To this day, I remember something that Mike said to me.

“Damn Ron....you know....I hate to say this man but....you look one HELL of a lot like those pictures of Larry Gene Bell!”

I remember laughing at that comment.

I had agreed to go out to his job site to measure some stuff that afternoon (and have a few drinks!) and since his site was near my house, I figured I would simply drive my father in law's car home after the appointment.

Well HELL!!

So much for planning.

I agreed to let Mike lead the way and we left the parking lot. I remember listening to a local sports talk radio station as I followed Mike to his house. I was simply going through the motions of driving when we came to an intersection.

Mike took off through the intersection and I looked both ways before following.

Just as I got through the intersection, the whole world seemed to go crazy.

Man!!

Cars came out of nowhere, lights were flashing, sirens broke through the sound of my radio and the air conditioner and I was pretty much freaked out!

I slammed on the brakes and came to an immediate stop.

As I looked around with my head on a swivel, all I could see was armed, uniformed officers with rifles and pistols approaching my car.

Instinctively, I shut the engine down....FAST!

As I sat there, I heard the roar of men screaming at the top of their lungs but alas....I couldn't tell what the hell they were screaming!

I tried to roll down the windows but, being power windows, I had to turn the ignition back on. In my haste and confusion, I went a bit too far and actually re-started the engine.

Well DAMN!

You would have thought I'd have hit the nuclear button!

As I rolled down the windows, sounds of absolute mayhem came crashing around me as it seemed that the entire world was screaming at ME!

I can still recall the words which randomly washed over me.

“HANDS.....HANDS.....LET ME SEE YOUR FUCKIN' HANDS!”

I remember wondering what the hell was so damned special about my hands....I mean REALLY...I've got nice hands but what's THIS about?

“GET OUT OF THE FUCKING CAR ASSHOLE!”

Now that was just RUDE.

A megaphone or loud speaker sparked into life.

“LARRY GENE BELL......exit the vehicle with your hands up NOW!!!”

It hit me like a ton of bricks!

These folks thought that I was a friggin' murderer!

Slowly, I opened the door and eased out with my hands WAY over my head. I moved so slowly that I can't believe they even saw me move at all. I was like a snail on Valium.

I remember that even as I followed their orders to move slowly, they kept screaming at me to “HURRY UP”.

How the hell do you do both at the same time?

Well, anyway.....once I had exited the vehicle, I big black dude in body armor ran over and gently shoved me face down across the hood.

Just kidding.....this guy spun me around and pushed me so hard that my face went flat against the hood.

Luckily for me, my nose broke my fall so....my face only took part of the punishment.

I was gushing blood like a stuck pig when just short of one million cops descended upon me.

The next few minutes were frankly terrifying.

Thankfully, a few minutes/seconds into the ordeal, I heard Mike Black hollering at the top of his lungs.

He had seen the whole episode transpire in his rear view mirror and hustled back to the scene with his pistol drawn.

“He's NOT BELL!” he hollered over and over till they finally eased up on me.

Well....there was much bowing, scraping and apologizing for the next half hour as you can imagine. Hell, the even called out an ambulance to check out my bruised and battered nose but....I was pretty pissed off. Mike Black did his best to calm me down but I was still smoking as I got back in my car and drove home.

I must admit that I was still pissed off for several days until I heard the circumstances of Shari Smith's death. After that, I got over it quickly.

Turns out Bell had given her the choice of being shot in the head or smothered with duct tape. She choose the duct tape. What a horrible way to die.

The poor young girl even left a letter for her parents in which she FORGAVE Larry Gene Bell.

Yep.....who was I to stay pissed off about a sore nose after what she had gone through?

Well....that's all for this tale of Ron's woe back in the day.

See ya'll again soon.

New Laptop and Wireless!

2009-11-02T22:49:00.002-05:00

Just bought a pretty cool yet inexpensive laptop and got my wireless set up so.....I should be able to begin ranting again.

I hate to have get used to new stuff but....this ain't too bad. Actually, the keyboard is better that on my PC downstairs. I'm currently sitting in my recliner upstairs, watching Monday Night Football and familiarizing myself with this new laptop. Too cool.

I'll be seeing ya'll soon.

Fall Is Here

2009-10-07T21:21:00.004-05:00

It was gorgeous up here today. Just a few pictures.

A new post is coming soon.

See ya'll soon.

I’ve Been Putting This Off…..

2009-10-04T14:58:00.002-05:00

I suppose it’s because I really don’t know what to say. Jean from “Pondering” gave me a gentle internet poke in the ribs recently so….I know that some folks have still been stopping by my blog. I think that’s so cool. I do appreciate your interest.

Well….here’s the deal.

First off, let me say the Michelle is doing really well and still running around like the energizer bunny. Thank God for that. As a matter of fact, she is staining the outside of the house as we speak! I, on the other hand, haven’t been doing too well.

Turns out that all the pain, numbness and weakness in my back and legs wasn’t just a “back thing” after all and according to the “experts”…..I’m pretty well screwed. Hell, I had a pretty strong sense that it was more than your normal back deal. I’ve been in a lot of pain in my life from time to time what with playing football for so long, dirt bikes, bar brawls, broken bones, arthritis etc but nothing like THIS! The bad news is that “they” say it’s gonna get progressively worse BUT the good news is that I get all the pain medication I need. So….in the words of Bill Murray in Caddyshack…..I’ve got THAT goin’ for me.

I won’t bore ya’ll with the details. Just know that no matter what the experts say, I’m in God’s hands. I never believed in miracles until I discovered that I was married to one! I was in the room when the Oncologist told us that she had two years or less to live. Well…it’s been nine years I believe and she’s still marching around banging that bass drum. We have always said and believed that (a) God is in charge of everything and (b) There is NOTHING that God can’t fix so…..I’ve got THAT goin’ for me.

Anyway, that’s the reason I haven’t posted for so long and really, why I have been so sporadic even before now. Just sitting, standing, walking, lying down or ANYTHING for very long has been painful and has continually gotten worse. Not to mention the fact that I wobble around like a friggin’ town drunk most of the time and stairs are a challenge for me. I’m sort of glad that I played football way back in the day. It taught me how to break my fall properly. LOL.

I do intend on buying a laptop and doing the wireless internet thing very soon so that I don’t have to deal with going up and down stairs as much. Maybe I’ll be able to start back blogging again. I DO have some things I’d like to write about. And I DO miss staying in touch with you folks.

You know, it’s funny, I’ve always written pretty much anything I felt like writing but I realize now that I HAVE actually held a few things back. I think I felt like I might embarrass some people (or myself) or shock some folks but now….I think I’m over that.

I think I have a few interesting tales yet to tell.

As a matter of fact, I’ve always wanted to tell the story of my misadventures in the Navy while stationed in the Philippines.

Well….my back and leg feels as though a pissed off alligator is gnawing on me so…..gotta move! Time for more drugs!

Better living through Oxycontin.

I’ll be back soon and, until then…..

Ya’ll take care and God Bless.

Farrah's Dead And I'm Not Feeling So Good Myself!!

2009-06-28T21:16:00.003-05:00

I’m feeling a little old these days…..

Dear Lord…..all the wonderful characters I grew up watching are pretty much gone.

Everyone is talking about Michael Jackson dying and yes….he was a truly incredible talented artist/pedophile but damn folks….

Farrah Fawcett died this week!! She was 62 freakin’ years old!!

Hell, I’m 54 and 62 years old sounds OLD to me! I’m officially old.

I actually met Farrah Fawcett in 1979 while playing at a private party in Hilton Head, SC….I think. It may well have been Savannah, Georgia but, I think it was Hilton Head.

True Story….

My band was playing at this HUGE house on the ocean…I swear it was Hilton Head…but anyway, we were playing out by the pool which was roughly the same size as the Dead Sea when I saw her walking down the stairs.

DAMN was she ever gorgeous. I’m telling you….it must have been 95 degrees and cloudless but the place got brighter when she walked down to the pool in a yellow bikini.

Not the famous one piece deal but a freakin’ BIKINI! Man……she was beautiful.

She was also pretty damned drunk/stoned/or something.

We were in the middle of a song which we kept playing but all of us exchanged looks as she got closer to the stage area.

She was doing that semi-sexy, semi-ridiculous, totally predictable “drunk girl at the party” dance as she made her way to a table right in front of us. I couldn’t believe my eyes….did I mention that she was beautiful?

Anyway….the lady who hired us came running up to me as we finished the song and motioned for me to lean down.

She grabbed my head, pulled me down and whispered in my ear.

“That’s Farrah Fawcett….introduce her to everyone.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“You gotta be shittin’ me.” I stood up and pointed. “Look at those people lady….she ain’t goin’ unnoticed!”

“Introduce her damn it!!” She demanded.

Well hell……she was the boss.

I remember looking back at my Uncle Bill who was playing with me that day. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“What the hell should I say?” I asked.

Without missing a beat, Bill grinned and growled.

“Tell Farrah that I’m hung like a plow mule and extremely discreet!”

I damn near fell over laughing.

After I finally recovered, I cleared my throat and decided to wing it.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, for those of you who are either blind, retarded or not actually here at the moment….would you please notice that Farrah Fawcett is sitting twenty feet away from me!”

Farrah hopped out of her chair, ran to the stage and before I knew it, she was standing right beside me! She leaned in toward the mic and her famous hair brushed my shoulder. She was a short little thing so, being the consummate gentleman, I moved in to adjust the height of the microphone. She moved back a bit and waited until I had lowered the mic before she move toward it again and then…..something magical happened.

Something that NO ONE will ever take away from me!

As my right hand moved away from the mic stand and she leaned forward to speak to the crowd, the back of my hand came into contact with her left breast!!!

She turned and looked at me with that famous sexy smile. Eight acres of perfect teeth damned near floored me as she laughed.

“You did that on purpose!”

I’d love to say that I was all suave and confident in my reply but I’d be lying my ass off.

I pretty much just stood there like a moron and grinned like a…..well, like a moron.

She said hello to the crowd and wished them all a good time. As she turned to walk away, she turned back, grabbed the mic and spoke again.

“Let’s hear it for the band!” She shouted.

The crowd cheered enthusiastically then she turned quickly and kissed me flush on the lips!!!

In front of God and everybody!!

I’d love to continue this tale but….that’s pretty much where it ends.

Before we were through with the set….she was gone.

I never saw her again.

But…..I did get a kiss from one of the most beautiful women ever born.

So……..even though Ed McMahon and Michael Jackson passed away this week……you will forgive me if I choose to think about America’s poster girl.

RIP Farrah.

Touching Base

2009-06-24T21:29:00.002-05:00

Hi ya'll. Just touching base to let you know that all is well in Ron's world.

I can't seem to find the time to blog these days but...the good news is that I've been busy.

My back and legs are still driving me nuts and...I'm pretty sure that I'm hopelessly hooked on Percocet but...at least I'm able to get around and function.

It's a catch twenty two situation but....there it is.

I'm on a huge diet now. No Glutins....whatever the hell they are. Michelle is in charge of what I eat so....I do what I'm told.

I've lost fourteen pounds in two weeks and back to working out as much as I can so....that's a good thing.

I suppose.

Gotta get some weight off of my back and legs so.....it's worth the effort.

The Atrial Fibrulation is still a crap shoot but, all things considered, seems to be getting better.

My precious Michelle is doing well. Still running circles around me and everyone else I know. She's been maintaining a huge garden, the yard, the flower gardens, the puppy, the house, me, our grandkids and a bunch of total strangers all at the same time so.....

She's just being Michelle.

Super Woman Jr.

I hope and pray that all of you are doing well.

I'm going into the office almost every day and contributing as much as I can to the overall effort. Dealing with a bunch of twenty-ish kids is actually a lot of fun most times but it amazes me how ignorant these college kids are! All that money for school and they are still, quite literally....ignorant.

I'd love to say that they are, at the very least, well educated but alas....I can't even make that assertion.

They are ignorant!

True story:

Just yesterday I heard one young lady ranting about global warming. She was getting extremely passionate about the need for Congressional hearing into the "Crisis" of Global Warming/Climate Change so, after she calmed down a bit, I asked her who should lead such a hearing. She looked at me as though I'd asked her the dumbest question ever and stated confidently.

"Al Gore of course!"

I laughed and said.

"Wouldn't that be a hoot? Talk about a McCarthy hearing!"

I swear you could hear the crickets chirping as she asked....

"Jenny McCarthy? What's she got to do with Global Warming?"

I REST MY FRIGGIN' CASE!!!

Take care and God Bless ya'll.

Back soon....I hope.

Guilt….The End

2009-05-02T23:53:00.002-05:00

To this day I remember how bad I felt upon finding out that Colonel Ashley had been beaten up by his piece of crap grandson. I can still muster a portion of the anger I felt back then as well.

The Colonel deserved a hell of a lot better treatment than that but….life ain’t fair right?

I remember hearing about it through my friend Sharon, the cop. She had been on duty when the call came in that night and she called me immediately after realizing who the old man was.

At the time, I was playing at a place called…oh hell…what does it matter anymore? I think it was called The Shire in the triangle city area in West Columbia. Triangle City referred to the fact that some moron had laid out a really stupid intersection some years before and a bunch of stores and shops had sprung up around it. To put it more plainly…it wasn’t exactly an historical or cultural destination. Basically, after dark….you went there to get drunk, high, laid, arrested and/or…a combination of all of the above.

Putting it plainly….this was not a high end neighborhood.

I say all this to explain how things came to happen as they did in the next week or so.

Sharon the cop found me hanging out at the Shire after playing a set with my old buddy Tony H.. we were laughing, joking and having a good time until Sharon made her appearance.

She explained in detail what Brett had done to his grandfather.

A brief synopsis of the event goes as follows:

Brett had come home from a day’s disappearance and demanded money and car keys from the Colonel who denied him both.

Brett proceeded to beat the hell out of the old guy and shove him down four brick patio steps while Mrs. Ashley looked on. Brett had somehow locked her inside the sliding glass door while he beat his grandfather unmercifully.

Mrs. Amy called the police after Brett left.

After a few days, Brett turned himself in to the police but not before his grandparents told him that they would not press charges nor testify against him.

Needless to say…the prick skated on all charges.

A week or so, I don’t know…maybe it was a month later…it’s been awhile. Anyway, I saw Brett again. I was doing a solo gig at my neighborhood bar, Ashley B’s when I spotted him walking in with another guy. He went to the game room side of the little place and began to shoot pool with his friend.

As the night went on….I really tried to ignore him. He made this difficult however because he and his friend made quite a bit of noise as they shot pool and slammed shots of something.

It was quite obvious to me that they were especially loud and obnoxious when I was playing. After each song, they got noticeably quite.

Randy, the owner of the bar, asked them several times to quiet down but they kept it up. I just remembered….this was actually a kind of a special gathering for a couple who had just become engaged. They were locals…regulars of the place and friends with a bunch of us. Their names were Darlene and Mike and they were a nice couple.

I know….I digressed.

Anyhow…..slowly but surely, the whole damned place got really tired of Brett and his buddy. Being a blue collar, semi-red necked kind of crowd of about forty people….things got a wee bit edgy pretty quick. As the drinks flowed and the necks got redder….I could see things were going to turn nasty pretty soon. Honestly….I was kind of hoping for just that reaction to these idiots behavior.

A guy named Mike F. (not the guy who was getting engaged) had finally had enough. Old Mike looked like a half chubby science teacher but was actually, one bad assed SOB. Many a stranger had made the mistake of taking him lightly or trying to bully him…much to their displeasure. Mike was one of those guys who seemed to be in a perpetual state of irritation. I suppose that the word which best fit him is ‘surly’. To put it bluntly…he was an asshole but, he was sort of a local legend. He would fight at the drop of a hat and usually prevailed.

Mike F. walked over and told Brett and his partner to shut up. No prelude, no introduction, no discussion. He simply told them to shut up.

Well, instead of simply shutting up, Brett tossed his pool cue across the room, pushed his buddy toward the door and left.

Simple as that.

The night wore on and a good time was had by all.

Until around one in the morning.

I was sitting at a table talking to some friends when Cecil B. came running through the front door shouting.

“Randy! Call 911!” he screamed to be heard over the juke box. “I think Mike is dead!!”

Turns out….Mike wasn’t dead but he wasn’t far from it. His head had been bashed in with a blunt object and he had been damn near stomped to death as he lay bleeding on the ground.

The police were called and Mike was taken to the hospital where he spent a couple of weeks. No evidence was found at the scene and Mike had never seen the attack coming but everyone knew who had committed the crime. No guess work was needed.

The very next night following the attack on Mike, Brett and his friend returned to Ashley B’s, sauntered to the pool tables and began showing their asses again. To top it off, Brett repeatedly asked anyone who would listen one question.

“Anybody else wanna tell us to shut the fuck up?”

There weren’t any takers and Randy told me that almost everyone left the place immediately.

Brett was having a ball.

Well, to make a long story short….

The final straw came a week or so later when I woke up early one morning to the sounds of an ambulance pulling into my neighbor’s driveway. Police cars came screeching up as well. Lights flashed everywhere and I went out to my porch to investigate. After a while, I was able to flag down a cop who explained to me that my neighbor had reported that a man had tried to break into her house.

Do you remember the girl who Brett had tried to spy on?

Yep…it was Layla Collins.

She told the cops that she had seen a guy standing on her back porch making strange noises. The guy was wearing something over his face so she didn’t know who it was but that he was calling her name while masturbating! She screamed that she was calling the police and he went crazy. He lunged at her back door and almost broke through before she told him that she had a gun.

He disappeared.

For several days after that, she got anonymous phone calls.

Some guy was singing/laughing the song ‘Layla’ until she slammed the phone down.

The calls continued.

Well….of course, I KNEW who it was and so did the cops but…they couldn’t prove it so…I took things upon myself.

Now don’t get me wrong. I’m pretty sure that I could have kicked Brett’s ass pretty well by myself but honestly, I didn’t want to deal with the aftermath. I didn’t want to ‘get involved’ with the sick bastard and I damn sure didn’t want to go to jail over HIM. So…thanks to an idea that soon presented itself....I did the next best thing.

I’m not particularly proud of my solution to the problem but…it WAS effective.

Here’s what happened next…

Sitting at the bar of Ashley B’s one afternoon, Randy, Cecil, Eddie, Dale and I were discussing the ‘Brett Problem’. I remember the conversation as though it was yesterday. It was a Sunday and the place was technically closed for business but…well…we were just a few friends having a beer and shooting the breeze.

After rehashing the details of why Brett should be shot, stabbed, horsewhipped, castrated, or simply killed, there was a knock on the back door.

Well, more like a hammering really.

“Aw shit!” Randy groaned. “I’ll bet you anything you wanna bet that ain’t the cops!”

He got off his bar stool, walked behind the bar and stared into the kitchen.

“Aw shit!” he repeated. “I wish it WAS the friggin’ cops! It’s Chet and his biker boys wantin’ me to sell ‘em beer.”

South Carolina still had Blue Laws back then…hell maybe they still do. I don’t know. But….back then at least, alcohol sales were a no no on Sundays.

Grudingly, Randy let Chet and his two cohorts in through the back door.

Chet was a well known local figure. The kind of biker who gave biker’s a bad name. He seemed to relish his prototypical ‘Biker’ persona. Everyone who knew him was well aware of his past. He had worked hard all his adult life to build a ‘rep’ and, to his credit…the son of a bitch had certainly done so.

As Randy got Chet’s ‘order’ together, Chet and his buddy’s bellied up to the bar. Chet leaned against the bar and surveyed us.

“Why ain’t you boys in Sunday school this morning?” he asked.

“It’s four o’clock in the afternoon Chet.” Cecil said meekly.

“Well hell!” Chet laughed. “How the fuck should I know when Sunday school lets out?”

The conversation went downhill from there until he happened to ask what we had been talking about when he had interrupted us.

All of the sudden….I had a flash of brilliance!

From that second forward….Brett’s days were numbered.

“We were talking about the guy who’s been trying to rape Layla Collins.” I said innocently as though I didn’t know that Chet was infatuated with Layla. To him, she was like a fairy princess who was to be wanted but one that he wasn’t ever going to be able to have for his own. I had seen him moon over her for a long time. He never tried to force himself on her or really even talk to her much but…..he had a THING for Layla. It was sort of a ‘Beauty and the Beast’ thing going on with Chet and everyone knew it. Hell, we laughed about it….well, not so Chet could hear us but still….everyone thought it was funny.

Between the five of us…..we related what had been going on with Brett. It was obvious that Chet was going into a slow burn. About that time, I noticed the Marine Corps tattoo on Chet’s arm.

Oh hell…..this was TOO damned easy.

Chet had never been in the Marine Corps but, his brother had been killed in Vietnam while serving in the Corp. Chet was a hard core Marine fan.

I just happened to let it slip that Brett had robbed, beaten and terrorized his own grandfather, Colonel Ashley….a retired Marine Corp hero.

Chet and his two friends were drinking and fuming.

While this was going on, Randy, Cecil, Dale, Eddie and I were exchanging knowing glances. We knew exactly what we were doing and, honestly….we were having a ball.

As time went by, we were all stirring the pot.

“The son of bitch oughta be shot.”

“The law’s not going to do ANYTHING!”

“I wish I could shoot that SOB!”

“Somebody oughta do SOMETHING!”

You know....old west lynch mob type talk!

We were doing our best to stoke the fires in Chet and his boys.

It was really going well. The liquor, beer and trash talking were flowing like water until Eddie managed to touch a lit torch to the gunpowder.

“You know….they caught him molestin’ a couple of kids last year but they let him go. The kids were too scared to testify against him!”

Well shit!

That pretty much sealed Brett's sorry fate.

Apparently, only Eddie knew that Chet was the devoted Super Dad of the Bikers! Apparently he had four small kids and doted on them.

The rest is history.

Chet finished his beer and looked at all of us.

I know it sounds like something from a bad “B” movie but this is the truth.

Chet said quietly and simply.

“Problem solved boys….problem solved.”

A couple of days later, a strange thing happened.

Brett was found lying in the parking lot of a Waffle House at three in the morning.

He wasn’t dead although he probably wished they would have killed him.

SOMEONE….no one ever found out WHO….but someone had thoroughly thrashed his ass.

Man….they destroyed this bastard.

He was never the same after that. He was severely brain damaged to the point that he had to be confined. He never walked again and was pretty much blind. Someone had beaten him and then set him on fire but….the guy didn’t die.

Well...actually, he finally did die when he launched himself out of a four story window a few years later but….he did suffer for a few years so….I suppose that was a good thing.

Wasn’t it?

I still can’t believe that his grandparents were devastated by the ‘incident’. Hell, they acted as though a perfectly wonderful grand child had been ‘taken from them’. As though Brett had never harmed them!

I felt bad about that for a long time….still do.

Whether or not I understand their grief…..they DID mourn their grandson’s fate.

And so…I DO feel guilt.

I guess I won’t know the right or wrong of it until that big ‘Ah ha’ day as my Mom says.

All I know is that while I think I would feel better if I had simply shot the SOB myself, I BELIEVE that Brett was evil. Hell…..I think HE knew that he was evil. I and all those involved back then also believe that he would have ended up hurting a LOT of people had he not been stopped.

But who knows if that’s true?

I BELIEVE it’s true but….

I suspect that some part of me HAS to believe it in order to be able to live with myself.

Right?

Guilt….Part Two

2009-04-30T22:39:00.002-05:00

After a late night, I slept until around noon but awoke seriously pissed off and motivated to find that little sucker punching prick!

I got dressed and walked into my front yard. Looking down the street, I didn’t see Col. Ashley’s car in their driveway but decided to walk over and see if they were at home. As I approached their yard, I saw the Colonel working in his flower garden. He must have been in his mid to late seventies but he still looked ramrod straight and carried himself with a military bearing. Trying not to startle him, I made as much noise as possible as I purposely walked on pinecones and branches.

He turned around, straightened up and smiled broadly.

“Well….it’s good to see you awake before evening young man.” He said cheerfully. “Don’t see how you can live your life in the dark.”

I laughed and shook the bony hand he offered me.

“Come look at these azaleas Ron….are they not getting beautiful?” he asked. “My own special fertilizer is the secret.”

“Yessir Colonel….they are gorgeous.” I said. “What’s in your special fertilizer?”

He smiled a clever smile.

“Couldn’t tell you young fellow….my eyesight is too bad to read the small print on that damned bag!” He laughed at his own joke.

“Your secret is safe with me sir.” I promised.

“Yes well….it’s not a complete fabrication…we DO mix in coffee grounds, egg shells and of course….” He looked both ways before continuing. “Don’t tell the Mrs…..but I occasionally a drain the old lizard on the damned things!”

He roared again at his humor.

He waved a hand toward his garden table.

“Come on….sit down and have some of my Amy’s iced tea.” It wasn’t so much an offer as an order.

We sat and made small talk for a bit. After a while, Mrs. Ashley came through the garden and joined us. The Colonel popped tall and I quickly followed his lead and we waited until she was seated before we sat down again.

“It’s so nice of you to visit Ron…we don’t see much of you these days.” Mrs. Ashley said sweetly.

“Amy…the boy is a damned vampire musician.” He growled. “He’s not much on daylight.”

I laughed and sipped my tea. It was really great and I told her so which, of course, led into an in depth description of the production process behind her wonderful tea.

Turns out….she put lemon juice in it after she brewed it.

Wow….another “secret”!

After a bit, Mrs. Ashley asked if I had seen Brett that day. Of course, this question made me wince a bit and I absently rubbed the spot where he had decked me. I really didn’t want to upset them but I thought that they should know about their budding Peeping Tom. However, before I could answer her, she gently slapped the glass top of the table.

“The little monster stole our car last night!!” She hissed.

“AMY!!” the Colonel almost shouted. “Family business!”

Mrs. Ashley looked at her husband intensely but the old man’s withering glare seemed to overpower her because didn’t say another word. She stared off in the distance.

I squirmed in my seat a bit but quickly made the decision to tell them what had happened. And so I did.

The Colonel and Mrs. Ashley were quiet for minute. I thought that I had upset them and that I had better exit the scene. They had a lot to think about. Before I left however, Mrs. Ashley reached over and took my left hand in both of hers.

“Brett hit the Colonel last week.” She had tears in her eyes and she had spoken almost in a whisper.

I looked at the Colonel who appeared to be embarrassed for a second but then his eyes flashed with anger.

“My own grandson!” He shouted. “My daughter didn’t raise him to be the way he is. He’s mean as a snake. I should have shot the young prick after he hit me! He wasn’t even man enough to face me….he hit me when I wasn’t looking.”

Again, I rubbed my head.

“Yeah Colonel….that seems to be the way he operates.” I said.

For the next half hour or so, they told me all about Brett.

Man what a bastard this guy was!

I can’t remember everything they told me way back then but I do remember a few choice details.

At the age of twenty one, Brett had been out on his own for a few years before his mother Amelia died. Almost immediately after her death, he got in touch with his grandparents and gave them a long sob story about how life had whipped his sorry ass and was invited to come with live with the Ashley’s.

Within one week, Brett had stolen his grandfather’s war medals and sold them to a pawn shop.

SIDE NOTE:

Colonel Ashley had fought in World War Two, Korea AND Vietnam! Mrs. Ashley informed me that among the medals that Brett stole were the Navy Cross, two Silver Stars, four Bronze Stars, the Combat Action ribbon, three Purple Hearts, and I can’t remember the unit citation medals. He served for something like thirty plus years!

This old man was an honest to goodness hero.

Oh yeah….I almost forgot. Brett also stole Colonel Ashley’s retirement gift from his troops in Korea.

A gold plated, custom engraved 1911 Colt Automatic .45 pistol.

That was the only thing stolen that REALLY seemed to shake the Colonel.

BACK TO THE STORY….

Mrs. Ashley told how her jewelry had mysteriously disappeared since Brett had come to live with them.

Brett had stolen money and tried to forge their checks several times. He had charged merchandise on their accounts at several local stores.

The first time the Colonel and his wife had confronted Brett, he had managed to charm them with his denials.

As time went by however, Brett became menacing and threatening. He made thinly veiled references about violence.

It didn’t take long before he advanced to bold physical threats and, at times, actual physical harm.

Even to this day, I feel sadness at what those poor old folks were living through but…what the hell could I do?

I mean, it wasn’t MY problem and besides…I didn’t really even KNOW these people! Yes, they were nice old neighbors but, I felt no particular need or desire to get involved in their personal problems. I did however, feel a desire to kick Brett’s ass. Beyond that, I just felt bad for the Ahleys.

For a guy who didn’t want to air his family’s dirty laundry in public, Colonel Ashley readily told me about how screwed up Brett was and how badly he treated them. I really felt sorry for an old war horse like the Colonel…in his younger days he would have handled Brett easily. I think the death of his daughter combined with his advanced age made him feel helpless. He didn’t want to harm his daughter’s son. Even if the piece of crap was no good, he couldn’t justify washing his hands of Brett. He was having a tough time dealing with the situation.

To be honest, I remember just thinking that I needed to get out of there. This was not exactly a conversation or predicament I wanted to involve myself in. So….I made my excuses and went back home after telling them to call me if they needed me.

I remember going back home and going through my normal routine until it was time to go to the club.

I honestly don’t remember much of what happened that night except that I played all night and went home. Pretty memorable huh?

Anyway….what I DO remember is that upon my arrival back home in the wee hours of the morning, I pulled into my driveway and noticed that all the lights in my house were turned on. I knew that I hadn’t left any light on except my front porch lamp. My first thought was that my girlfriend at the time, Kathy had decided to surprise me. She knew where I kept my ‘hideout’ key so…she had probably used it to gain entry.

As I reached the front door, I realized that my assumption was wrong.

My front door looked as though someone had taken a sledge hammer to it with a vengeance! It was sort of leaning half opened and hanging off its hinges at a 45 degree angle to the floor. A large hole had been beaten through it near the handle. It was destroyed.

As I stepped into the house, I set my guitar down and grabbed an aluminum bat I kept in an old umbrella stand in the corner of the front room. I slowly and quietly made my way through the house until I reached my bedroom. I quickly went to my night stand, reached behind it and thankfully found my pistol, a .38 Special with a four inch barrel. I still have that gun.

Well, it took me several minutes to survey the small house but I didn’t find anyone lurking in the shadows. I did find lots of senseless damage and a few stolen items. Thankfully, my guitars and most of my equipment were at the club or elsewhere but whoever had broken in had stolen some money (not much because I didn’t have much to steal) and a few small items. No big deal really but I was pretty damned pissed about the holes in the walls, furniture damaged and the toilet that was intentionally clogged and overflowed!

Of course, I called the police and spent the rest of the early morning hours talking to them.

I finally made it to sleep around dawn.

Sometime that morning/early afternoon, my phone rang.

“Hello” I answered.

All I could hear on the other end was some guy laughing his ass off for a minute or so until the line went dead.

Of course, this disturbed the hell out of me but I didn’t have any idea of what to do. This was in the days before star 69 so….I just went on with my life.

I changed the locks on my doors, cleaned the house up and went about my business.

A day or so later, I noticed that the Ashley’s car was back in their driveway but saw no sign of Brett for maybe a week.

Around two in the afternoon one week day, I was mowing my front yard with an old push mower when I saw Brett walking down the street. He glared at me but didn’t stop as he walked by so I killed the engine and shouted at him.

“Hey Brett, come over here, I wanna talk to you.”

He looked at me but kept walking.

“Brett….don’t make me come after you!” I shouted.

He stopped and turned towards me.

“What?” he asked.

I slowly walked toward him.

“What do you THINK I want to talk to you about Brett?”

“How should I know?” he asked innocently.

I got to within five feet of him and looked as though he was ready to run. He wasn’t a really big kid but he was not much smaller than me. Hell, he really wasn’t that much younger than me either. He was probably 21 or 22 and I was only 27, 28 years old.

“If I ever catch you playing peeping Tom again, I’m going to call the cops on you Brett.” I said evenly. “You got lucky the other night.”

He didn’t say a word. All he did was look at me with a sort of belligerent smirk.

“Do you hear me asshole?” I asked.

He still said nothing.

Frustrated, I started to walk away when I heard him say something under his breath. I could have sworn he said something but I wasn’t exactly sure what it was so I asked him.

“What did you say?” I demanded.

He just started laughing.

It was definitely the same laugh I heard on my phone the day after my house was broken into!

I sprinted toward him and he took off like a deer! Damn that little prick could RUN!! I chased him all the way to his grandparent’s house and, I’m ashamed to say that he had plenty of time to make it in the house, slam the door and probably fix himself a glass of Mrs. Amy’s special iced tea!

I never thought of myself as a sprinter but damn….that was pretty humiliating!

I pounded on the door and screamed at him to open up to absolutely NO avail.

He wasn’t coming out.

I finally gave up and began to walk away. When I was half way across the yard, I heard the door open. As I turned around, he was standing with one foot out of the door.

“Hey man….were you trying to break into this house?” he grinned. “You know…I might just have to call the police. You could get into BIG trouble for breaking into a house in this neighborhood.”

He gave me that same horse laugh again.

I knew I was handcuffed here. I tried to calm down and catch my temper.

“Look Brett, I know you broke into my house and I know you’re an asshole but don’t fuck with me again. I’m not going to tell you again.” I turned to walk away but remembered something else. “Oh yeah….if I hear about you roughing up your grandparents again, I’m gonna kick your ass. I'm serious Brett. Don’t try me.”

“Fuck you.” Was his only response. A very calm response at that. This guy was sure of himself.

I walked away feeling absolutely useless, impotent, enraged, hot, tired and sweaty! Oh yeah….I was also a little bit….hell, I guess to be honest….I was a little bit scared. I mean seriously…the guy was obviously a bit insane. He really didn’t give a damn that I knew he broke into my house, stole his grandparents car and abused them. No shame, no guilt…no normal human emotion that I could discern.

The dude was almost like a movie villain. So yeah…I guess I was a bit frightened at the prospect of having to deal with this crazy bastard in the future. I had the feeling that he really didn’t give a shit whether or not he went to jail or not.

I DID care!

How do you deal with that?

As it turns out…I’m still asking that question.

A few more days passed during which time, I got in touch with a friend of mine who was a West Columbia cop. She was also a girl who I had gone out with for a while and we were still friendly. I asked her to check up on Brett and she willingly did just that. She came up with the fact that he had a juvenile record which she couldn’t access as well as several violations as an adult.

I met Sharon (the cop) at Maurice Bessenger’s Barbeque drive in (look up his sauce on the internet and ORDER some! Damn…it’ll make your tongue slap your brains out!). She began to tell about young master Brett.

“This guy is a freakin’ moron Ron….seriously weird.” She half laughed-half looked spooky. “We’re talking just really disturbed.”

I wasn’t feeling real good about this.

She went on to tell me that he had been arrested six times in the past three years. He had only served ninety days on one conviction for assault on a minor during a fight at a football game he had attended. HOWEVER…..his other five arrests were for suspected acts of public masturbation, indecent exposure, arson, grand theft and….get this…..rape of a child.

Dear lord!

“Why the hell is this sonofabitch still running around free?” I asked.

“I couldn’t tell you dude. All I know is that he wasn’t found guilty. They couldn’t prove anything against him and only one charge even made it to court…the arson charge.... The judge kicked it out before it really got started.” She shrugged. “He’s either innocent or really sneaky.”

I told her again what I knew about him.

“He ain’t innocent. Hell, he’s tormenting his poor old grandparents. He’s hit the old man and even stole their car but they’re not talking to the cops.” I explained. “Hell, the old man even talked about shooting the bastard but, I don’t think they’ll go to the cops.”

“Well….all I can suggest is that you stay the hell away from this punk. He isn’t someone you want to mess around with.” She warned me. “You and I both know that you don’t need the hassle!”

She was referring to the fact that, while she and I were seeing each other, I had become the unwitting focus of an investigation into alleged drug activities at a bar I was playing at regularly. Imagine that! A musician hanging out in a bar being linked with smoking pot and doing the occasional line!

There was some really fine police work going on there at the time.

Anyway…Sharon had warned me of the situation and even though she had known of my activities before we got together, she realized that it probably wasn’t a great career move to continue to hang out with me. I agreed with her and while we remained friendly, we weren’t actually involved anymore.

The last thing she asked me that day was whether or not I wanted her to have someone go talk with the Ashley’s.

I remember distinctly telling her that it would probably only serve to humiliate the old people and most likely accomplish nothing.

You know….they say that hindsight is supposed to be twenty-twenty but…in this case, I think it’s more like twenty-two hundred because I STILL don’t know the correct answer to her question.

Damn it.

Two days later, I was visiting Colonel Ashley at the Lexington County Hospital where he was suffering from several broken ribs, a sprained wrist and a broken jaw.

To Be Continued Again….sorry, gotta get some sleep!

I’ll try and finish this soon. I can’t wait to get your feedback on what happened.

Guilt

2009-04-23T22:38:00.003-05:00

Okay...here's the beginning of my tale. It's been awhile since I've spun a yarn and to be honest...I can't sit at the keyboard for very long anymore but....I'll eventually tell the tale....I promise.

To the story.....I'll call it 'Guilt'.

I'm sure you will understand the title before this story is done.

I was living in Columbia, South Carolina at the time, actually….it was West Columbia and it was back in the early eighties. For those who don’t know….Columbia, South Carolina is the hottest, most miserable place on the friggin’ planet! I should know, I pretty much grew up there so....I should know.

Hell, I’ve been all around the world and I’ve never been ANYWHERE where the heat and humidity were worse. I’ve been to the Philippines, Vietnam, Cambodia, Thailand, Cuba, Mexico, Puerto Rico, Haiti, and Jamaica; hell…you get the picture. None of those places were the ‘equal’ of Columbia, S.C. in August.

I tell you that to say….

Maybe it was the heat.

I don’t know what the hell caused the event I’m about to tell you about but basically, something just snapped and it happened.

Anyway, here’s what happened.

I was living in a tiny little house in a nice neighborhood near the airport in Columbia. I still can’t believe that I ever got accustomed to 747’s flying 1000 feet from my roof but,it was actually a nice little place to live. Somehow, between the vodka and the occasional joint….the planes really didn’t bug me too much.

Two houses down the street lived an elderly couple. Damn….they probably weren’t much older than I am now! Anyway, they lived in a nice house with a nice lawn and they had a nice Lincoln Town Car in the driveway.

I had lived there for a few months in my rented house before I ever actually met them. With my schedule, they were never awake when I was. I woke up each day about the same time that they were lying down for a nice afternoon nap.

They had a cute little cocker spaniel named “Porter Wagner”…. he was named after Porter Wagner, the country music singer. The old man, Colonel Ernest Ashley (United States Marines… Retired) once told me that the reason they called him “Porter Wagner” was because the little puppy always had his port side wagging.

Go figure.

Anyway….Col. Ernest Ashley and his sweet little wife Amy also had another resident in their home that summer.

His name was Brett.

Brett was their grandson by their deceased daughter Amelia who had died the previous winter in a car accident.

Amelia had been the light of their life and her death had really rocked them. Neighbors who had known them when Amelia was still a small child said that Colonel Ashley and Mrs. Amy had aged twenty years in the few months since Amelia had passed away.

I suppose Amelia had only been gone a few months when I met the old couple down the street and, I wish it had been under more pleasant circumstances.

I had just left my house one evening about seven o’clock with my guitar and gig bag in my hands when I noticed someone lurking around my next door neighbor’s car. I continued toward my car, all the time staring at the ‘lurker’. Something told me that he just didn’t belong in this picture. I knew my neighbors pretty well and I was sure that this figure was NOT one of them.

As I put my guitar and bag in the trunk of my car, I tried to act nonchalant while still keeping an eye on the shady figure.

I got into my car….still watching. It didn’t take me long to realize that the figure I was watching was Col. Ashley’s grandson….Brett.

I watched as he crept up to my neighbor’s house and rose up to look through what I knew to be the Collin’s bathroom window. I had been in their house many times and I knew where the bathroom was located. Hell…..their house was a carbon copy of mine!

A light was on in the bathroom and I could detect shadowy movement from inside.

All of a sudden it hit me.

This little shit was trying to catch a glimpse of my neighbor Layla Collins in the bathroom!

Well…I’d love to say that I was OUTRAGED. I’d love to say that this little bastard was a pervert.

I’d love to go for the moral high ground here but……

Layla Collins was 25 years old, 5’5” and weighed probably 120 lbs soaking wet. She was a natural strawberry blonde with a generous body. When I say ‘generous’, I mean to say that the good Lord was GENEROUS when he made this girl’s body!

Dear God that girl was HOT!

I remember going to a pool party in the neighborhood once where she was wearing an orange string bikini.

Suffice it to say that there were some VERY pissed off wives at that party!

Every man at the party caught pure hell from their wives or girl friends that day because, if you had functioning eyes in your head and you were male….your eyes were on Layla Collins as she confidently strutted around the pool area that day.

Actually….it’s been a LONG time….twenty five years or more and the memory of her in a bikini is really getting to me! Even as I write this......

Did I mention that she was HOT?

Anyway…I watched the kid for a few minutes and decided to confront him.

I got out of my car without closing the door and quietly walked up behind him.

When I was less than ten feet behind him, he heard me approaching.

He turned around quickly.

“I wasn’t doing nothing!” he shouted.

I almost laughed.

“Kid…get out of here.” I told him. “You’re gonna get your ass in trouble if you don’t go home.”

He straightened up and glared at me.

“I said I wasn’t doing anything!”

I looked at him and saw that he was really upset that I had busted him.

“Just go home Brett.” I said. “You don’t want to do this.”

He slouched and began walking toward me. He had adopted a ‘tough guy’ walk as he came towards me.

The kid must have been 5’10” and maybe 170 lbs.

I wasn’t worried about him coming towards me. He had never struck me as being the athletic or violent type.

As he came to within five feet or so of me, he veered off to my left as if to head home to his grandparent’s house.

My eyes didn’t follow him as he passed but, in my peripheral vision….maybe I heard him move differently but, without warning, the little prick attacked me!

Back then, I was (and still am) 6’1” or so and probably 225 (okay...I weigh a bit more now) so…I really didn’t have a clue that this kid would be so bold as to attack me.

Even though I was a musician….I was also a pretty damned good athlete in my day.

Not to mention that, in those days…I was pretty damned cocky!

Well, I wasn’t expecting the little shit to attack me.

To his credit, the shot he hit me with was a good one.

He hit me just beneath and behind my left ear and believe me…..that got my immediate attention.

Now, right here is where I’d love to be able to say that I went all ‘Chuck Norris’ on his young ass but…the truth is that I went down like G.E. stock!

DAMN that punch hurt!

My neck seemed to cramp to the left and my mind went numb.

He had hit a nerve or something because my body simply quit working for a few seconds and…before I finally recovered…

The little bastard was GONE!

Well….much to my embarrassment, all I could do was stagger back to my house, call the club I was suppose to be playing at that night and tell the owner that I was going to be a little bit late.

I finally showed up after a few shots of vodka and some ice on my neck....I think that I was about two hours late. The only permanent effects of the sucker punch were a stiff neck for a couple of days and a severely wounded ego.

Little did I know that this was only the opening salvo in a tragic tale.

To Be Continued……..

You Guys Are So Cool

2009-04-18T22:05:00.001-05:00

I swear....you guys are TOO damned cool!

Thanks for actually giving a damn about Michelle and I. It's really kind of humbling. The internet is actually a pretty cool thing ain't it?

When I was a kid, I thought it was amazing that you could build a radio shack ham radio (which I did) and a beer can antenna and talk to someone in Kansas. IF the meteorological conditions were PERFECT!!

TOO COOL.

Anyway...thank ya'll for checking in on us.

By the way....I am going to post a new story in the next few days. As usual, it's autobiographical but honestly, it isn't a typical Ron tale.

It's about an incident that really effected me in a 'damn I wish that hadn't happened' kind of way.

Well....it's a lot worse than that but...it's one of those things that happens in our lives sometimes that we simply can't justify. Sometimes.....you just don't know whether you did something right or wrong.

For some reason, it's bothering the hell out of me now and....what the hell........I thought I'd tell ya'll about it.

Maybe you can tell me whether or not I totally screwed the pooch.

I honestly don't know but I sure do feel guilty as hell.

BUT.....,and this makes NO sense whatsoever.... to be honest....I feel a great deal of satisfaction over what I did.

Do you get some sense of the problem I'm having here?

Anyway......I'm gonna blog about this very soon and I look forward to hearing your opinions on the subject.

Bye for now, Michelle worked me almost to death today...it was 70 degrees and sunny.

Spring is here!!

Not really....the weather channel is calling for snow Monday night.

Oh well...maybe soon.

See ya'll soon.

Still Here Ya'll

2009-04-07T14:23:00.003-05:00

Just checking in to say that we are still alive and doing well.

I've actually been going to the office pretty much every day and thankfully, business is booming. While I don't know that ANY business is recession proof, people are using their websites more than ever so....we're rolling right along. I just hope the "Obamessiah's" Swindle-Us plan doesn't bankrupt everyone. I shudder to think of the next four years but.....you gotta hand it to him.....he won. American's got what they asked for. I just hope they can live with it. I AM tickled that we finally have a Black person in the Oval office but...I sure wouldn't have picked him. Oh well....

I hope everyone who still drops by from time to time are doing well too.

My back is still driving me slightly crazy but now that I'm pretty much hooked on pain pills, I'm able to handle it...barely.

Michelle is doing well but just about to burst for spring to come and stay! It was seventy degrees here Sunday but it's been snowing and freezing cold since yesterday.....damn it!

Well, that's about all for now but, I really do plan on getting back into this blog again. Maybe I'll try and set aside an hour or so at work to do so.

Thanks for those of you who have left messages from time to time. Jean, Rocky, Libby, Assrot (I still cringe everytime I say that name. LOL), LL, Joe Rose et al. I miss 'talking' to ya'll. I haven't even felt like checking out other blogs but, that's gonna change! Gotta get my mojo back!

I DID finally post a couple of snow videos on YouTube if ya'll want to check them out. I did for my Mom and Sister who LOVE snow but don't get much. I'm trying to figure how to upload my videos to YOuTube in a different format because it takes a lOOOONG time to do it now. I'll get it figured out soon I hope. My camera creates AVI's and I need to change them into something else. Anyone know how to do it?

To view them or anything else I may post just go to YouTube and search for GamecockRonNC.

Until next time...God Bless you all!

Checkin' In

2008-12-11T13:15:00.001-05:00

Okay….I guess the YouTube idea was a bad one. The ever amusing ‘AssRot’ told me so in no uncertain terms so….I guess I’ll forget that option. I still may try and use it to show a video from time to time. In the meantime, I’m going to try and post more often.

Thanks to all my blog friends for being so loyal. Ya’ll really are too cool.

My freakin’ back/leg problem continues unabated and I’m trying to tough it out without leaning on the Oxycontin as much as I was for awhile there. It’s a case of the cure being about as bad as the condition I suppose but damn this thing gets almost unbearable at times. I’ve never been much of a whiner but sometimes!!!! Michelle, bless her heart has GOT to be sick of hearing me moan and groan all the time.

Speaking of Michelle, she’s doing well and is as wonderful as ever. She’s presently over at Mr. Earl’s house. She’s been going over there once a week to care for him. He’s eighty four years old I believe and has bladder cancer. He’s a sweet old guy who really has no one to care for him so…Michelle went to his rescue. Truth is… he’s a horny old dude who just loves to flirt with her.

A couple of weeks ago, Michelle was asked to speak to a group of cancer patients, doctors and nurses at Cannon Hospital. Everyone over there calls her ‘Miracle Michelle’ and they wanted her to give her testimony about how she has handled her experiences. She gave the talk and was very well received by all. She made a bunch of hats for chemo patients and unfortunately, there are enough patients that they called to ask her for more yesterday. They’ve taken to calling them ‘Michelle hats’ now. Honestly….she’s becoming something of a local celebrity for all she does. She’s the ‘go to girl’ at the hospital when they have a new patient who is terrified by the diagnosis of cancer. I can’t tell you how many folks she’s talked to and helped. She really is a little angel.

I know….I’m a proud husband but…she really IS something special.

The owner of our office building informed us yesterday that the building has been sold and that we have to be out (after twelve years) by Feb. 2nd so….I’ve got to get busy finding a new place now so…I’ll be busy for a bit but I fully intend on starting a new story soon.

Promise.

I hope ya’ll are doing well and I’ll be back soon.

Ron

I'm Amazed.

2008-11-26T22:24:00.003-05:00

I truly am amazed that some folks are still dropping by my little old blog! Hell...I'm shocked.

Truthfully, I've just been feeling WAY too crappy to think about writing anything. My own Mama is mad at me because I don't answer her many daily emails but damn it.....I've just lost the urge to go online lately. I hope I get over this phase but...who knows?

Michelle and I are doing well, all things considered. My back and legs are driving me crazy and the heart crap is annoying but, more than anything...I'm really bored! I need to find something to "get into". I think I'm suffering through a mid life crisis or some such crap but...I'll make it through this phase.

I've decided to try something new soon. I've started a 'YouTube' account and I'm going to begin posting video clips instead of trying to type this blog. Honestly....my back and legs HATE sitting at the computer so...I'm gonna take the 'easy' way out.

I hope that everyone has a wonderfull Thanksgiving day!

See you soon.

Ron

2008-09-02T23:01:00.003-05:00

Even though I have very little to report...I just had to sit still long enough to check with ya'll.

At the risk of sounding like a whiner....I've had a rough time of it lately. Apparently, all those years of football, dirt bikes, car crashes and such have finally caught up with me. According to my doctors, my spine is pretty much screwed. At the tender age of 54, I can't stand, lay down, walk or do much of anything else for more than ten minutes at a time which is why I haven't been blogging. Hell....I haven't done much at all for the past few months except moan, groan and munch Oxycontin as though it were candy.

Man....I've never had many back problems in my life...knees, shoulders, hands, ankles yes but damn...this back shit is trying to lay me low! The pain and discomfort is all encompassing at times but I'm trying to fight through it.

If my darlin' Michelle can fight cancer, surely I can fight a little back problem.

Everyone is telling me that I need surgery immediatly but, I don't have insurance and quite frankly...even if I DID have insurance, I'm not sure I'd opt for surgery yet. I'm trying everything short of chiropractic before I try surgery.

We bought an Inversion Table and I'm trying that now. Boy...that's a strange and painful experience but...something is happening so...I'm gonna keep trying it for awhile. Michelle LOVES using the inversion thing but she's just a little thing. Me? I'm about 255 lbs and hanging upside down is a truly wierd and uncomfortable thing to do!

Michelle is doing really well. She's tending to her huge garden, canning beans and supplying half the state of NC with her harvests of broccoli, corn, cucumbers, tomatoes, squash, cabbage and oh yeah...a million or so potato's (oh hell, did I pull Dan Quayle? sp?)anyway...she is still going along like a machine. Next week she's leaving me for two weeks to go visit her Mother in California so....I'll be miserable but....she HAS to go if she's ever going to see her again. Her Mom has been pretty ill for awhile now.

Anyway, thanks to those of you who have emailed and/or left messages for me. It's amazing to me to I feel so close to some of ya'll whom I've never met. Sorry that I haven't been around much lately but, honestly, sitting in front of this computer is absolutely MURDER for my back and legs!

Take care and God bless you all.

Ron

Hi Ya’ll

2008-08-06T21:23:00.001-05:00

Sorry I’ve been so long between posts but, life has gotten in the way again.

It truly amazes me how many people keep ‘checking in’ on me and my pitiful little blog. I’m humbled.

The fact of the matter is that I’ve been having some semi-serious health problems and haven’t felt much like blogging OR messing around on the computer at all.

The fantastic news is that Michelle is doing REALLY well. As a matter of fact, we just visited with her Oncologist (cancer doctor) today and he was very happy at how she’s doing. He actually said that ‘things couldn’t be going better with her treatments’. He said that she doesn’t need to see him or continue her chemo for the next three months!

Thank God for that!

Michelle has been working in her garden, growing vegetables, flowers, grapes, tomatoes and a million other things. On top of that…she’s decided to become a golfer!

She’s become infatuated with the game so we bought her a set of clubs, a hitting mat and a net for her to practice in the front yard. She LOVES it! I’m doing my best to give her lessons and she’s really doing quite well. She can’t hit the ball very far but she is hitting it straight….which is half the battle.

Our front yard is like a 150 yard uphill par three and she’s no longer content to hit into the net…she wants to hit the ball HARD! She has NO patience with hitting into the net but the good news is that Molly, our cocker spaniel, is a ball fetching fool so…..she’s helping out quite a bit.

Well….that’s life in our world right now…I pray that ya’ll are doing well and are as happy as we are.

Take care and God Bless you all.

Ron

The Story Of My Wife...Part Three

2008-05-18T23:38:00.002-05:00

I cannot believe how cold and windy it has been up here on the mountain!

We would pay big bucks to experience some damned global warming right now. Michelle has been busy trying to make a few dozen different species of flowers and plants grow but the weather is not cooperating. So far, the only thing growing like hell is our feeling of impatience. We’ve been doing a lot of ‘spring time’ sprucing up projects but we’re freezing to death while doing so.

It’s really strange.

Okay…back to the story of Michelle.

After she and I finally got together, we knew immediately that we were going to stay together. Having both gone through bad marriages and relationships, we knew that nothing was a ‘sure thing’ so, one afternoon after talking about our future together, we sat down at her kitchen table and began to talk.

This conversation was the cornerstone of our future together. I think everyone ought to be required by law to have this type of conversation before they get married!

We covered damn near every topic/potential problem known to man. We talked about finances, morality, God, family, friends, habits, likes, dislikes, pets, politics, religious practices, health, sex….you name it and we probably talked about it. We didn't want to have any surprises.

Several hours later we decided that we were going to be married.

After we had been together for several months but before we were married, Michelle began having really severe pains in her upper back. Being a devotee of chiropractics, she went to the top chiropractor in Boone, NC for quite a few weeks but the pain persisted.

One afternoon, I saw her standing on the front deck looking out at the mountains so I went to join her and enjoy the view. When I reached her, I could see that she was crying. To this day,I’ve only seen her cry a few times in our time together, and never because of pain. Hell, I had accidentally hit her in the head with the hard edge of a tennis racket once and damn near knocked her out so…I was really worried.

She was in incredible pain, had been for quite a awhile and was worn out from it.

She buried her head in my chest and cried.

"I hurt so bad....I don't know what's going on." She said.

I insisted that she go see a ‘real’ doctor instead of a ‘quack-a-practor’. I know that people swear by chiropractors but although I’ve been to three of them…I don’t believe in them at all.

To make a long story short, she DID go to her doctor who then referred her for a CT scan and an MRI. After seeing the results, she was sent to an oncologist (cancer doctor for those of you lucky enough not have ever had to visit one) and we received the news.

I will NEVER forget that meeting.

The doctor, Mike Kaplan, was a gregarious late forty-ish guy. We came to really love the guy and his family but, on that day, I hated the man.

After a thorough examination, Michelle got dressed and we sat there in the small room holding hands while giving each other encouraging looks. Dr. Kaplan studied the test results for awhile and finally began speaking.

“Michelle, as you know, you had a bout with breast cancer ten years ago and the radiation and lumpectomy seemed to have resolved that issue for a time but, I’m afraid that it’s back.” He said very sympathetically.

Our hands squeezed tightly as we glanced at each other.

At the time, I remember thinking “Well…she’ll just have another procedure and it’ll be over and done with.”

Michelle was the first one to speak.

She asked him to elaborate and he did.

To this day, I cannot remember a thing the man said.

I heard his voice, I saw his lips moving and I saw the compassion in his eyes. I can remember seeing the concern in his face.

I remember thinking that this total stranger was about to cry.

When he finished speaking, I looked at Michelle. She was as calm as a person listening to a sermon in church.

I heard her ask a question that had something to do with a word I’d never heard before but that she was quite obviously familiar with.

METASTATIC

What the hell was that?

I asked him what the word meant and he explained it to me but, much to my surprise, again, I couldn’t hear a word the poor man was saying.

Something in my mind had shut down. I know it sounds silly but it really happened. I now realize that, for the first time in my incredibly blessed existence, I was experiencing abject fear.

I KNEW the news was bad but….I just did NOT want to hear it!

I was like a little kid with his fingers in his ears humming loudly so as not to hear the taunts of his brother.

My reaction still embarrasses me today.

After he had droned on for a few minutes it finally began to sink in.

“Wait a minute!” I shouted. “Wait a minute! What are you saying?”

After a few seconds of stunned silence, I looked at Michelle and she gave me a precious smile as she rubbed my arm. She instinctively knew that I was overwhelmed by the moment.

“Sweetheart….the cancer is back and its spread all over my body.” She said calmly as though she were telling me that the lawn mower wouldn’t start.

I’ve never felt so stunned in my life.

She reached over and pulled me to her.

“It’s gonna be alright big boy.” She said. “Don’t you worry…it’s going to be fine.”

We held each other for a few seconds and then Dr. Kaplan spoke up.

He began going into detail as to where the cancer had spread. Liver, spine, femur, tibia, neck, pelvis, hip…the list went on for several minutes as he described the severity of each lesion.

I swear…it was all just a big blur in my mind.

Michelle, being the incredibly strong person that she is, took in all the information and then, when he had finished speaking, she took a deep breath, gripped my hands in hers and asked the question….

“How long do you think I have?” She asked.

He looked at her and smiled a faint smile.

“Of course…no one can tell exactly but according to the advanced nature and scope of the lesions, I would think two and a half years.” He said sadly. “I’m truly sorry.”

With that, he stood up.

“I’ll leave you two alone for a moment then we’ll talk about how we’re going to fight this damned thing.” He said as he left the room, closing the door behind him.

I would like to report how bravely I handled the news. How I had maintained a ‘stiff upper lip’ and faced the situation like a modern day John Wayne but….I would be lying through my teeth.

I fell completely apart.

I cried so hard that my body felt as though I was having a seizure.

I remember saying over and over again.

“Oh dear GOD honey…I’m so sorry.”

This went on for a few seconds and then she pushed back from me a bit and smiled.

“Would you pray with me?” She asked quietly.

I nodded lamely and she grasped my hands in hers.

To this day, I’m amazed at what I heard her pray.

“Dear God…..thank you for all the blessings you have given us and thank you for giving this to me and not Ron.” She began. I started to say something but she cut me off. “Please ease his mind and let him know that whatever YOU decide to do with me is also what I want. Do with me as you please. Please help us deal with this and know that we put it all in YOUR hands. Do with me what you will Lord.”

After the short prayer, she looked at me a smiled.

“Big boy…..” She smiled so sweetly. “There ain’t NOTHING that GOD can’t fix! We’re going to be just fine.”

And so it began…..

To Be Continued

The Story Of My Wife...Part Two.

2008-05-07T22:37:00.002-05:00

Well, I’ve gotta tell you. Michelle really IS trying to kill me with all this yard work crap. Quite frankly, I literally DESPISE yard work. I cannot for the life of me tell the difference between a plant and a friggin’ weed as evidenced by the fact that just today I mowed down two grape vines that Michelle planted last week.

In typical Michelle fashion, she just laughed and informed me that she would simply buy two more plants to replace them.

And she will.

In the past week, I have set up an infuriating greenhouse she bought online, purchased, lifted twice and spread forty bags of store bought dirt/Black Cow and a pick up truck full of genuine horse manure. Oh yeah, I’ve also assisted her in creating a strawberry patch and mowed three and half acres of grass!

Fact is….I’m friggin’ TIRED!

Okay…back to the tale.

The night I first met Michelle ended quickly because she couldn’t stay out late that night (or any OTHER night as I later found). She had a twelve year old daughter at home and almost never went out but, when she did go out, she was always home by twelve o’clock.

We hit it off immediately but, much to my shame, once I realized that she wasn’t a typical ‘party’ girl…I sort of shied away from getting to know her better. Honestly, I wasn’t ready to get into a ‘relationship’ at the time but, more importantly, I wasn’t ready for a ‘good woman’. At the time, I was into partying, having a good time and wanted nothing to do with a woman who would ‘take me away’ from my self absorbed lifestyle.

The fact is however that I KNEW beyond a shadow of a doubt that I was in love with her almost from the moment we met but…I wasn’t ready to give up my so-called ‘life’.

We saw each other a few times and I even met her daughter. We laugh about it now but I must admit that I absolutely DESPISED her daughter! Turns out….I was right! Her daughter was and IS a spoiled rotten, self absorbed, STRANGE young woman. NOTHING like her Mom but a LOT like her father.

To make a long story short, I was confused. In my heart, I KNEW that Michelle was the woman of my dreams and that I loved her but I kept pushing her away. I would make plans with her and then cancel them claiming business issues. I would draw her close and then distance myself. Don’t get me wrong….Michelle was very understanding the first couple of times that I pulled this crap but she quickly put a stop to it!

I’ll never forget the night that I told her that ‘something had come up’ and that I needed to back away from a commitment to her.

She obviously had put up with all she intended to.

As I walked her to her car, she turned and faced me. She had tears in her eyes as she looked at me.

“Ron….this is your last chance with me. I KNOW you love me and I’m certain that I love you but you’ve got to decide what you want.” She said quietly. “I love you but I don’t love the way you live or the things you do. You’re better than the way you’re living but…it’s your life. Live it the way you want to but don’t expect me to be a part of it. You obviously don't have time for me in your life so....have a nice life.”

I remember KNOWING what I SHOULD have said and done but….like a moron….I let the opportunity pass.

I can recall the moment with perfect clarity.

Damn it….this little woman was going to ruin my life! How could I possibly have a good time with a Christian woman who knew NOTHING about having fun? Besides…..her kid was a little asshole!

I told her that I just wasn’t ready to ‘settle down’ but that I didn’t want to lose her.

To her credit, being the class act that she is….she looked at me as she got into her car. After she shut the door, lowered her window and started the car, she smiled and looked up at me.

“Well…I hope you’ll be happy.” She said.

She drove off without another word.

To be honest, at the time I relieved that it was over before it really got started but I also felt incredibly sad.

Here’s the strange part.

Shortly after we stopped seeing each other, I showed up at a charity garage sale at the home of a local businessman who was an acquaintance of mine. Unbeknownst to me, Michelle was helping with the sale.

She didn’t see me at first because she was busy talking to someone who was looking to buy something.

I eventually got to speak to her for a moment and it was a tad bit uncomfortable for both of us but she was very pleasant.

It would be the last time I saw her for almost seven years!

Over time, I changed my wicked ways and was living a much more sedate life with my dog Barney. Occasionally, I would hear news of her from friends but, we never seemed to run into each other until August of 2000.

I had just gotten out of my car and was heading into the Banner Elk post office when I looked up and there she was. She was leaving the post office and looking through a stack of mail when she looked up and saw me.

I had heard that she had gotten married a few years back to a guy I knew in passing so, when our eyes met and she smiled, I groped for something to say.

“Hey girl…..I haven’t seen you in ages!” I grinned and we exchanged a polite, friendly hug. “I heard you got married. How are ya’ll doing?”

She laughed and made a face as though she had tasted something really bad.

“We’re not ‘doing’ at all.” She offered. “We’re divorced.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that but I couldn’t help but being happy that she was no longer married and of course....I couldn't help but notice how gorgeous she looked standing there in a flowery sun dress so…I just said what came to mind.

“Are you seeing anyone now?” I asked sheepishly.

“No.” she answered but she gave me no indication as to what I should say next so…..I dove in.

“Would you like to?” I flashed my best smile at her.

Without missing a beat she smiled and answered.

“Sure.”

I was so relieved that she didn’t shoot me down that can barely remember what happened next but I DO remember getting her phone number and promising to call her later that evening and we’d set up the date.

She gave me cute grin.

“Oh boy….that sounds like the old Ron.”

I felt like a total jerk.

“Ouch….that hit home but I promise that if I don’t call you tonight it will mean that I’m dead.” I swore.

We hugged again and parted and I can still remember walking on air for the remainder of the day.

Our conversation that evening lasted a couple of hours as we brought each other up to date on our lives and we set the date for the following night.

We’ve been together every day since that date.

To Be Continued….I can’t wait to tell ya’ll about how fantastic this woman and our marriage has been.

She’s quite a remarkable woman!

The Story Of My Wife

2008-04-30T22:56:00.002-05:00

As a preamble to this story, let me say that we just got some absolutely incredible news about Michelle’s last Cat Scan and tumor marker tests.

Her oncologist, Dr. Davis was so excited that he personally called and told us that her CT scan looked great and said that he would tell us more during her scheduled visit Tuesday….yesterday.

The call came Monday.

Did that make sense? Oh well….I hope you followed it.

During the visit Tuesday, he gladly reported that NO tumors have increased, several appear to have actually gotten smaller and more importantly….several of the lesions in her liver have DISAPPEARED completely!!

I wish ya’ll could have heard some of the phone calls which took place last night.

Man….EVERYBODY loves my girl!!

I know…she’s my wife and I’m prejudiced but EVERYONE is inspired by her faith, attitude, fortitude, love and…..well, her MAGIC.

I’ve debated writing about ‘our story’ and the miracle that is Michelle but....I’ve just GOT to tell this story.

So….believe it or not….I give you…

The Story Of My Wife.

Michelle and I first met about fifteen years ago. I was working at a restaurant/bar in Banner Elk at the time. After a few years of playing music there, the owner, George had made me manager of the place as well as the entertainment because hell….we were the best of friends and drinking buddies so…why the hell not?

Honestly….I truly sucked at being a manager but I was one hell of a drinking buddy and a pretty fair musician. The problem with me at the time was that, quite frankly, I was a completely self absorbed asshole when it came to women.

I had gone through some really rocky marriages/relationships up to that time and I suppose I was just really weary of ‘love’ and all its problems. Basically, as a song I wrote at the time says…”I swore I’d have a heart of stone” but…..then I met Michelle.

Man…what a memory.

The lyrics to the song I wrote about this meeting pretty much tells the tale but I remember being in the middle of a song…the place was crowded and I was scanning the crowd not looking at or for anyone in particular.

Then I spotted her.

She was sitting at a table fifty feet away, one of those small ‘stand up’ tables with three other women who quite frankly may as well have been spider monkeys for all I cared! Don’t get me wrong….Michelle is and was a beautiful woman but, it wasn’t her ‘look’ that caught my eye…it was the way she was looking at ME.

It wasn’t a ‘I’m gonna screw the guitar player tonight’ kind of look she had on her face but rather a look that said that she was interested in what I was doing and really appreciated it.

I will NEVER forget thinking that while she WAS a beautiful girl….she was really getting into the music.

I will also NEVER forget what happened next.

For one of the few times in my life…..I forgot the friggin’ lyrics to the song I was singing. Hell….I’m pretty certain that I forgot the music as well but I’m positive that I screwed it up SO completely that I finally began laughing at myself as I attempted to recover.

The ending of the song was a complete train wreck and I promptly apologized to the audience with these words.

“I’m sorry ya’ll but it’s NOT my fault.” I proclaimed. “It’s HER fault!”

I pointed at Michelle until everyone turned and looked at her.

She was MORTIFIED!

To her credit, she handled the attention well and gave me a sexy, mischievous grin as she lifted her wine glass in my direction.

Over the mic I asked.

“Are you going to be here awhile or do I need to take a break right now?”

She laughed and said something I couldn’t hear over the crowd noise.

“What did she say?” I asked.

The crowd went almost silent as they waited for her to repeat herself.

She finally flipped her hand at me in a dismissive manner.

“You just shut up and keep singing big boy.”

The audience howled and I laughed too.

To this day she still calls me ‘Big Boy’.

That’s how it all started.

Of course, I screwed it up at first but…

That was the beginning.

To Be Continued….

Sorry but I’m tired as hell…she’s trying to KILL me with yard work these days but I HAD to start this story tonight for some reason.

I can’t wait to tell this story even though I realize that it’s pretty corny but she’s such an amazing woman and I want ya’ll to know all about her.

More tomorrow.

My Maternal Grandfathers…yep…plural!

2008-04-22T21:07:00.003-05:00

My Mom sent me a link today from a radio station, WCSC in Charleston S.C.

http://www.wcscradio.com

(sorry..I've forgotten how to add hyperlinks)

Anyway...it brought back a bunch of memories and started me thinking about how strange it is to have TWO maternal grandfathers.

The link was ‘a brief history’ of that particular radio station and I was pleased to see that the only picture on the page was one of BOTH of my maternal grandfathers.

Hmmm…..how can a guy have TWO maternal grandfathers you might ask.

Well….let me do a little of ‘splainin’ here.

As I have mentioned before, I come from a long line of musicians. EVERYONE on my Mom’s side of the family and my immediate family could play and/or sing….or both.

The funny thing about this is that I grew up thinking that my ‘real’ grandfather was Roscoe ‘Shorty’ Wiggins….the fiddle player in the middle of the picture above. He was and will ALWAYS be my ‘real’ grandfather but, in truth…the big guitar player on the right of the picture is my ‘biological’ grandfather!

Pretty wild huh?

I learned this many years ago after my Grandaddy Rock (as we called him even though most folks called him ‘Shorty’) passed away when I was seventeen years old. My biological grandfather and my ‘real’ grandfather were the best of friends for many years UNTIL my ‘real’ grandfather ‘stole’ my grandmother away from my biological grandfather…Jack Glisson who was a rogue and a heavy drinker but by all accounts, an otherwise great guy.

Whew!

Ain’t THAT confusing?

Well….both of my grandfathers were hard drinkin’, women chasing extremely talented musicians/singers but, my grandmother chose the right guy to stick with.

Shorty Wiggins, my ‘real’ grandfather was the finest man I’ve ever known in my life. Unlike my biological grandfather, Granddaddy Rock was a responsible, loving man who took care of his large family and taught them all what love was all about. He taught us music but he taught us ALL so much more.

That little man could wring more enjoyment out of life than anyone I’ve ever known. He played in ‘juke joints’, the Grand Ole Opry and on the front porch of his home on James Island with equal fervor. He raised six children ( his only ‘step child’ was my Mama who everyone swears he loved even more than his own), built a roofing business and was beloved by almost all who knew him.

He was also my hero.

Every summer from the time I was fourteen till I graduated high school, my brother and I would go down to Charleston from our home in Columbia and work for him in his roofing business.

He only stood about five six but could carry two packs of shingles on each shoulder up a ladder without breaking a sweat....no hands required. I once tried to emulate him and wound up damn near breaking my neck. I was about six feet tall and weighed one hundred and eighty pounds at the time.

After my grandfather rushed over to check on my condition and realized that I wasn't really hurt, he sat back on his haunches like roofers do and laughed his ass off.

"Boy...what in the hell did you think you were doing?" He demanded.

I remember telling him that I thought that I could carry at least as much as him since I was younger, stronger and bigger than he.

He had this funny way of sucking on his teeth (probably dentures)before he spoke sometimes which sounded like a couple of 'tisk-tisks' even if he wasn't reprimanding you.

It's just the way he spoke.

Anyway....in this situation, it sounded as if he WERE reprimanding me and he chuckled.

"Tisk-Tisk" he began. "Bubba...ain't no doubt that you're a lot younger and sure as hell a whole lot bigger than me. Hell boy.... you might even be stronger than your old granddaddy but it's my sad duty to inform you that you ain't NEVER gonna be smarter than me!"

I just stared at him trying to figure out what 'smarts' had to do with me damn near breaking my neck trying to emulate him.

Before long, he realized just how dense I was so he spoke up as he got to his feet and helped me up.

I grabbed his hand and he easily pulled me to my feet, promptly yanked me to his body and flipped me over his back in some sort of 'judo' move.

Damn it!

Of course, I found myself lying on my back looking up at my grinning grandfather as my brother, four uncles and the rest of the crew laughed at me.

He looked down at me without offering his hand and told me something I've tried never to forget.

"Bubba...young, strong and big don't mean NOTHIN' without SMART!" He laughed. "By the way....it's all about your center of gravity..whether it's carryin' shingles up a ladder or livin' your life...it's all about the center of gravity."

I thought about it for a second but he interrupted my train of thought when he spoke again.

"Are you hurt?" he asked tenderly.

I told him that I wasn't hurt at all.

He laughed and stomped down HARD on my right foot!

"A fella that took a tumble like THAT oughta hurt a little bit don't you think?" He cackled as the crew went wild.

Even through the pain in my foot as well as the embarrasment of the situation, I remember reveling in the moment. It was like a rite of passage for me. I was one of the boys then...the whole crew was laughing and making fun of me but somehow...I knew that Granddaddy Rock had played a prank or two on THEM as well from time to time.

It was a great moment in my life.

Must be a southern thing.

I'll never forget the time he caught me smoking his Lucky Strikes.

No....he didn't make me smoke the whole pack as in your typical 'I got caught smoking' yarn....

This was MUCH funnier...unless you were ME.

But...that's another story.

When he died, a funeral procession of three hundred cars caused a traffic jam in Charleston as it winded its way to the cemetery.

To this day, all our family talks about how much fun Granddaddy Rock's funeral was!

The funeral was a celebration of a life well lived and while everyone would miss him....there was just NOTHING we could regret about the way he had lived his life or how he touched all of ours.

Damn I miss that little old man.

My biological grandfather however died alone, penniless and a hopeless drunk.

I never met him.

My Mama still mourns Granddaddy Rock but not her ‘real’ father.

In the caption of the picture, the lady quoted, Emma Lee Heitman is my aunt and the sister she refers to is my mama. They both used to sing on the same radio station with and without my granddad’s band.

They were quite popular as a duo in those days.

Well….I just thought that was kind of interesting.

See ya’ll later.

Things That Happen When I'm Minding My Own Business...The End.

2008-04-20T22:54:00.003-05:00

When I reached him, I could see that the old man was long dead. His eyes were open, his skin a dark bluish hue and he had a large gaping wound to his forehead. The wound wasn’t bleeding at all. It was instantly obvious that he had bled out long ago.

It was a disturbing sight to say the least.

With very little trouble, I hauled him out of the river and laid him on the nearest bank. Finally, Barney left the water and came to sit beside the old man and me.

As I sat there collecting my wits, I noticed that the old man's jacket sleeves were shredded badly and that one of the straps of his waders was ripped off.

As I sat there trying to figure out what had happened to Mr. Thornton’s clothing it finally hit me….Barney had tried to save the old man…probably several times but he couldn’t get a good enough grip to haul him out of the rushing water.

I grabbed Barney and held him for a bit and tried to calm him down but he was truly ‘all to hell’. He whined and whimpered and he kept trying to go to Mr. Thornton. I held him back and finally remembered that I had my cell phone.

I called 911.

It’s kind of funny but I remember that call like it was yesterday. I would readily admit to being a nervous wreck at the time but DAMN…the guy who answered the phone sounded like a freakin’ moron!

The call went something like this….

“Emergency services…how can I help you?” a male voice asked.

“I found the body of a man in the river above the bridge at the Toe River.” I answered.

Hesitation.

“Hello?” I said.

“Sir….I cain’t hardly hear you…can yun’s speak a little louder.”

I repeated myself…..louder.

“Did you say yun’s has found a body in the river?”

“Yes….up above the bridge on the Toe River off of Watauga Street….at the waterfalls” I explained.

“Oh lord!” the man said. “Who is it?”

“It’s an Englishman named Mr. Thornton.” I answered a bit impatiently. What the hell did it matter WHO it was?

“Are yun’s sure he’s dead?” He asked.

“Yes….he’s dead.”

“Have yun’s tried CPR on him?”

I was getting frustrated.

“NO…I don’t know how to do CPR but I’m certain that CPR wouldn’t do any good. He’s dead…he HAS been dead for quite awhile.”

“How come you’re sure he’s dead?”

This moron was getting on my nerves!

“Okay….let’s see….he’s got a head wound that looks like he got hit with an axe…there’s no bleeding from the wound…he’s not moving…his eyes are open and he’s not blinking and oh yeah….he’s hasn’t drawn a breath since I dragged him out of the water five minutes ago! Call me crazy but yep….I’d say he’s dead.” I said sarcastically.

“Okay….you’re right…he’s probably dead.” He offered. “How you reckon the man died?”

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“How the hell should I know dude…just send someone up here to get him down the mountain!” I snapped.

There was a pause on the other end.

“SIR…..I’m just doin’ my job.” He answered indignantly.

“Yeah Yeah….whatever…..just send someone NOW!” I ordered.

I gave him my cell number, exact directions as to how to get to where I was sitting. Hell…EVERYONE in town knew where that fishing spot was but I gave him the directions anyway.

I remember sitting there for at least thirty minutes trying to comfort Barney. Okay…I was trying to get Barney to comfort ME too.

What the hell was taking so long?

You have to remember, this is a tiny town in a sparsely populated county in the mountains…hell, the fire department/rescue squad building was so close to my house that when the sirens went off my windows rattled!

I called 911 AGAIN.

The same guy (I later learned that his name was Burl) answered the phone.

“Where the hell is the rescue squad?” I asked. “It’s getting cold up here.”

“Yessir…it is gettin’ a little chilley out there.” He answered. “I called the rescue boys right after yun’s called but they said that they’s a-changin’ the oil in the unit and it’s gonna be a few minutes ‘fore they’s gonna get there. They’s gotta go get a new filter at the parts place.”

I started to feel my self get really angry. I couldn’t believe this crap!

“Well hell!” I chuckled. “It’s a damn good thing this man is already dead ain’t it?”

There was a pause on the line.

After a bit…Burl chuckled too.

“Yeah…I guess he’d be shit outta luck if he was really in trouble huh?”

As odd as it sounds now thinking back on it…..we both began laughing our heads off!

Here I was sitting ten feet away from a really nice old man’s body comforting a grieving dog, freezing my ass off and talking to guy I didn’t know and I was laughing so hard my ribs hurt!

I guess that’s what they call ‘gallows humor’.

Side Note:

I later met and got to know Burl a little.

Turns out that Burl was a bit of a local legend with his main claim to fame being that he had once accidentally captured a mountain lion in his tool shed.

Seriously!

Apparently, Burl had left the door to the shed open over night and when he went to the shed the next morning, he slammed the door shut and rushed over to fire up his kerosene heater. It was really cold that morning so, Burl’s only concern was getting the heater going. Before he could light the heater, the mountain lion jumped on him and began to maul the hell out of him!

Burl later told me the tale in his own ‘mountain style’.

“Son….lemme tell yun’s! They ain’t nothin’ that’ll get yun’s attention like a pissed off mountain lion! ‘Parently, that sumbitch was sleeping like a baby when I slammed the door and he just jumped on me like beggar lice!” He intoned seriously. “He was all over me!! Ever time that sumbitch bit or scratched me, I’d try to grab him but ‘fore I could get holt of him, he done bit or scratched me someplace new!! I swear…it was like dancin’ with a chain saw!”

I had a hard time keeping a straight face while he told me the tale.

He continued and then, in spite of my best efforts…..I lost it!

“Son…I couldn’t take it no more so I fell on the floor and started spinnin’ ‘round as fast as I could. I’m so big…I figgered ah could squash his ass if I got lucky.” He said seriously. “Problem was....” he gave me a conspiratorial look.. “I think that sumbitch liked it better on the floor!”

I still laugh thinking about old Burl’s story.

Turns out, that cat tore poor old Burl to ribbons. He was in the hospital for quite a while and ended up with a ruined left hand and a face that looked as though he had been attacked by well…..a mountain lion.

“I think that sumbitch liked it better on the floor!”

Is it just me or is that friggin’ hilarious?

Okay…back to the story.

When the rescue squad finally showed up, they put Mr. Thornton on a stretcher and took him down the mountain with Barney and I following close behind. Once we reached the bottom of the hill, they put his body into the rescue vehicle and slammed the doors. I spent the next hour or so talking to the authorities until they finally left.

It had been a long day to say the least but…it wasn’t over yet.

I had just gone back inside the house after having to literally drag Barney away from the ambulance when my front door burst open.

It was Miss Rose.

“So…..tell me what happened.” She said as she plopped into the MY recliner. “Don’t leave nothin’ out while you’re making me a drink.”

Miss Rose was a not an old woman to be disobeyed so….I made us both a strong drink, took it to her and sat on the sofa.

I told her the entire story and she didn’t speak for a long time. Finally, she got up slowly and headed for the door. Just as she opened the door, she turned to me and chuckled.

“I swear….folks been comin’ here to die for years.”s She said sadly. “Your friend Mike came here to die…but he weren’t the first one to come here to do that.”

I didn’t say anything.

I was stunned.

“I’ve been living here all my life and I’ve seen a bunch of folks call it quits in this house.” She stated flatly.

“Oh really?” I asked. “Like who?”

She grinned and turned to leave.

“I’ll have to tell you about it someday…..right now, I’m goin’ home and take a nap.” She said softly.

With that, she was out the door.

It must have at least a week later when I got a phone call late at night. I think it was around 9:45 or 10:00.

It was the daughter of Mr. Thornton.

She had gotten my number from the county coroner I suppose.

In the next few minutes, she explained to me that her father had been suffering from a heart disorder which was fatal. I think it had something to do with cancer but…I really don’t remember the details. Apparently, he had decided to travel to our area because his father had actually lived here as a child and always spoke of the trout fishing.

He simply felt compelled to come here before he died I guess.

Anyway, she proceeded to tell me that the old man had told her that he knew that he was dying so, he decided to take the trip he had been dreaming of for a long time.

Of course…he did take that trip but…..the REAL trip for me was that Barney had KNOWN that the old man was sick. I don’t know if he knew that he was going to actually die but somehow….that big ole goofy dog had a ‘gift’ for knowing that people were sick or in trouble.

I found out later from the coroner that Mr. Thornton had suffered an explosion of a major artery leading to his heart which apparently killed him faster than a lightning strike.

He simply died, fell down and in the process gashed his head on a rock.

The woman who gave me the report added that there were many marks on his body that suggested that Barney had tried desperately to drag him out of the water.

I know…..I’m probably making too much of the situation but I firmly believe that in several cases…Barney somehow KNEW that people needed help.

Don’t believe me?

Try this on for size.

I'm NOT making this up.

For a long time after we got together, Barney was cordial to Michelle but….not really friendly.

Barney was still, quite clearly MY DOG.

All of the sudden, over a period a few days however, Barney would constantly shadow Michelle. He suddenly went everywhere with her and even tried to lie in her lap when she would sit down. He refused to let her out of his sight.

Barney was NOT a ‘lap dog’ kind of dog.

This was really unusual.

Michelle had been experiencing a lot of neck and back pain for quite awhile at the time and even though she rarely complained or made a big deal of it….she was quite obviously in a LOT of pain.

It was during this time that Barney became MICHELLE’S DOG.

He followed her everywhere. He would whine and moan as he laid his huge head in her lap.

He just really began acting strange.

Approximately one week later, we found out that Michelle’s cancer had returned and had metastasized all over her body.

Call us crazy but somehow…..that big ole goofy dog KNEW.

He just knew.

Shortly after that, Barney simply disappeared. We're pretty sure that he was 'dog-napped' but.....that's another story I suppose.

We still miss that old mutt terribly.

I still keep a big picture of him running towards me as I snapped a picture all those years ago.

I keep it over my work bench and think of him often.

Someday...I hope to see him running to me again.

Okay...I've 'meandered' this tale long enough.

Back soon ya'll.

Things That Happen When I'm Minding My Own Business...Part Three.

2008-04-17T23:17:00.003-05:00

A busy week ya’ll but I’m back to finish this thing….I hope.

Thanks to those of you who have left comments. I especially like what AC said…..I ‘meander’ stories.

That’s funny but I suppose it’s true. Michelle has actually fallen asleep during some of my‘stories’. I’m not sure why I can’t seem to simply come to the point but…what the hell?...it’s the way I am.

Don’t get me wrong AC…I didn’t take the comment as a ‘bad’ thing…quite the reverse…I accepted in the spirit with which it was offered.

Thank you.

In writing as in my personal life…I am a ‘meanderer’.

I like that.

Okay…..

Back To The Tale……..

As ya’ll know, I DID sign the lease and I’m really glad that I did. It was a really good time in my life. I had finally become determined to live a solitary existence as a way to ‘get my self straight’. At that point in my life, my love life’s track record looked like miles of long hard road and I was desperate to give myself a break so…a little old house near a trout stream at the foot of a mountain seemed like a great place to hide for a while.

My only companions were a big old goofy dog and my thoughts. Sadly….the big old goofy dog turned out the better of the two. My thoughts were scattered and depressing for a time but that big old goofy dog brought me a lot of joy.

However……I digress.

From the time I moved into the house, things went well. My closest neighbors were an interesting group of people….to say the least.

It was a pretty cool time in my life but it was also a strange time. I really need to write about some more of the strange stuff that took place there so I’ll be able to remember it in my old age.

Damn…I’m falling into that ‘meandering’ thing again but sometimes….one thought just leads to another which presently leads into another and I feel compelled to write it down so that I’ll someday come back, read and remember.

Oh well…we’ll forget about the meth addicts who lived to the right of my place and their vicious billy goat for the time being. We’ll also pass on recalling Miss Rose, the fiddle playing old lady who lived to the left of my place and the former college basketball star who abused his beautiful elementary school teacher wife even after I punched him in the mouth in his own front yard with the neighbors watching. I still despise that son of a bitch.

Yep….I’ll forget about that for now. Hell….I’ll not even write about the weird little moles that lived around and about the old house. Those were some spooky little bastards! They also gave off a smell that led one to believe that the house was soon to be consumed in an electrical fire.

Okay…I’ve written all that crap down so I can now go back to THIS strange tale.

Back To The Tale……again.

The next morning, Mr. Thornton showed up at my door in full Orvis fishing outfit. He seemed a bit uneasy, perhaps because I had expressed no desire to act as his fishing guide but…there he was anyway.

I had been in the kitchen when I heard the tapping at my door so I removed the pan from the stove and headed into the living room.

Damn!!

I opened the door and he grinned sheepishly.

“I don’t suppose you would show me the trail you mention yesterday?”

“Now?” I asked.

“Well not NOW exactly but…..I would like to get started sometime this morning.” He stated.

Honestly, I couldn’t believe the chutzpah of this little dude. Hell, it was nine a.m. on a Saturday and the only reason I was even awake at this hour was because I hadn’t eaten dinner the night before unless you call a gallon or so of beer and a few Kamikaze’s a meal while playing sets at Nick’s dinner.

I was HUNGRY!!

I couldn’t find it in my heart to be rude to the man but I’m sure he could read the look on my face.

I motioned him into the living room, pointed to the sofa and walked towards the kitchen.

“I was in the middle of cooking breakfast.” I snarled.

I saw him grin.

“Would there be enough for two?” He asked.

I couldn’t believe my ears! What a presumptuous little prick!

“Yeah….I’m cooking enough for two……me and Barney.” I snapped.

He shrunk back into the sofa a bit.

“Oh dear…I suppose that WAS a bit pushy of me wasn’t it?” He muttered.

I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Yeah….my thoughts precisely but….I can always throw a few more eggs together.”

After that, we ate breakfast and talked a bit about fishing on the mountain.

Needless to say, I caved in and told him that I would guide him a few hundred yards up the hill and show him the trail.

He was almost giddy.

We finished breakfast and I changed into some ‘going up the mountain’ clothes. I carried my boots out to the front deck and was putting them on when Mr. Thornton asked me if Barney was going to accompany us on our little trek.

I laughed.

“I wouldn’t want to be the one to try and stop him! He dearly loves to crash through the underbrush but he’s a lousy fishing partner. I’m telling you the truth…if he spots a trout he’s gonna do a belly flop before you can say damn.”

He laughed.

“I’m serious man…he’s got eyes like a hawk and can spot a trout in a heartbeat. It doesn’t matter if it’s sunny or in the shade, he’ll screw up a fishing trip if you let him.”

“Well, I’ll wait until you get me to my spot and you can take him home with you.” He said.

We headed out shortly thereafter with Barney leading the way. The summer growth hadn’t died off yet in this, the early fall so it was slow going for us as we headed up the rocky path. Of course, Barney was unencumbered by the undergrowth so he fairly hauled ass up in front of us.

We were about fifteen minutes into the hike when Mr. Thornton called out to me.

“Could we stop a moment?” He was obviously struggling to catch his wind.

Trust me….we weren’t walking very fast at all. Hell….I was in lousy shape even then! After all, I was a moderately hung over guitar player that fine autumn morning way back then.

I turned to answer him just in time to watch him step on a loose rock and actually witnessed him turning his right ankle at a not so healthy looking angle.

He went down to the ground without a sound.

He lay on the ground for a moment, grabbed his ankle and looked up at me with a pained expression.

“Damn that hurt!” He gasped.

“I’ll bet.” Was all I could manage to think to say. I was trying to picture how I was going to lug this old man back down the trail on my back.

Why me?

Within minutes of him falling to the ground, Barney showed up like an apparition from the dense undergrowth panting heavily. He took one look at the situation and sat beside Mr. Thornton.

I would have a hard time believing this if I hadn’t witnessed it but I swear it’s true….Barney began licking the old man ankle very gently but VERY deliberately.

How the hell did he know what was ailing Mr. Thornton?

Mr. Thornton was not rubbing his ankle at the time Barney appeared and of course, Mr. Thornton had TWO ankles after all….how the hell did Barney choose the correct offended appendage?

The old fellow and I just stared at each other and grinned.

It was one of those ‘Twilight Zone’ moments.

I remember thinking of a time when on this very same path a few months earlier, I had slipped on a moss covered rock and smashed my right knee into a river rock while crossing the stream and had basically passed out on the side of the river. I had actually blacked out briefly…I think. I really don’t know how long it had been but when I awoke, the pain was still incredible and Barney was right there with me licking my face and laying on my chest.

He was the first thing I saw when I came to.

I sat up for a second and got violently ill for the first time in years. Man that knee was HURTING!!

Through it all, Barney was freaking out and trying to do SOMETHING to help me.

Finally, I got to my feet and bore the pain then slowly, limped back down the mountain with Barney beside me every step of the way.

I made it back to my house and iced down my knee but it didn’t do much good. I spent a week or two hobbling around on it before it finally got ‘better’ after I had it drained twice.

If you’ve never had your knee drained, let me tell you…it’s one of the worst/best feelings in the world. One minute your knee feels like an abscessed tooth, then they shoot you up with five or six excruciating shots THEN comes the turkey injector sized needle which feels like a railroad spike even AFTER the Novacain and then…..instant pain relief!

Ah…….however….I meander again.

Anyway….Mr. Thornton managed to get up and limp around a bit while testing out his ankle. I suggested that he take his shoe off and soak it the bitterly cold stream which, after a moment of doubt, he did.

We all sat there for probably twenty minutes while he immersed his foot in the stream after which time he declared himself fit enough to go on with our little journey.

“Mr. Thornton…I really think you ought to just hobble back down the trail and go home.” I said honestly. “That ankle is probably gonna swell up like crazy before long if you don’t get off of it.”

“Oh nonsense…it’s feeling much better now.” He replied. “I’m feeling much better and it’s not as though I haven’t sprained an ankle or two in my life. Walking on it is the best medicine.”

What the hell? I couldn’t really argue with that logic as I had done the same thing many times in my life. You just sort of ‘work through it’.

Well….we headed back up the mountain until we came to the clearly marked trail which lead to the locally famous ‘honey hole’ where many a trophy fish had been caught. I asked him if he was okay to go on alone and he assured me that he was. I told him exactly how to reach the spot just short of the little waterfall complex and with that, he took off on his own.

Barney and I headed back down the trail and were back at home shortly thereafter.

I asked Barney if he wanted to play and of course…he did.

Our ritual was to go across the road with a tennis ball and an old tennis racket. I would hit the ball as far as I could hit it into the woods and he would take off like a bat out of hell to retrieve it. It really didn’t matter how far or where I hit it…in the woods, in the river or straight across the bridge, Barney would find it and bring it back to me and place it on the outstretched tennis racket…..ready to go again.

We played that game for hours sometimes. He never got tired of it.

That particular day however, I hit the ball a few times and he really didn’t seem all that eager to participate but he did so anyway for a little while. On the fourth or fifth time however, he watched the flight of the ball as it landed downstream in the river, looked at me and promptly dashed UPSTREAM without so much as a ‘kiss my ass’.

He was gone.

Honestly, I was almost always happy when Barney lost interest in our little game but it usually took him a very long time to tire of it. This day however, I remember thinking that it was kind of strange for him to quit so quickly. Hell, I didn’t know…maybe he was chasing a rabbit or something. Whatever the reason, my duty had been fulfilled so I went back in the house and started watching a college football game.

It must have been sometime around four o’clock in the afternoon when I realized that Barney hadn’t come back to the house and I began to get irratated that I’d probably have to go looking for him…..again.

I know that the fog of time probably guarantees that what I’m about to say is inaccurate but, it seems to be a fact as I sit here and write this.

It was only a few short minutes after I had thought about having to go looking for Barney, when I heard someone walking on my front deck. Before I could get to the door, someone began knocking.

I pushed the curtain aside and laughed.

It was old Miss Rose, my fiddle playing octogenarian neighbor.

I opened the door and she stormed into my living without so much as a ‘by your leave’.

Too funny.

She spun and looked at me.

“Where’s that damn dog of yours?” She asked.

“Damn Miss Rose…I don’t know. What did he do?” I asked.

“If you’d turn that damned TV down and step out on the porch you can hear him barkin’ some damned-where!!” She said as she walked over to my TV and began punching buttons.

I picked up the remote and turned the TV down before she could screw the damned thing up forever.

Lord!

Without even going outside I could hear Barney yelping.

Sounds in the mountains are quite difficult to pinpoint sometimes and even after I walked outside, I couldn’t quite tell where he was just by listening but….I knew where he was.

I really did have an ominous feeling of dread. Believe me or not….I KNEW something had happened to Mr. Thornton.

I rushed inside and began putting on my boots and jacket.

“Where the hell are you going?” she asked.

“I’m going to find Barney but I think I know exactly where to find him.” I answered. “He’s up at the falls with that English guy.”

“What English guy?”

“Rosey….I’ll tell you all about it later but I’ve gotta get going.” I said as I headed for the door. “The old guy twisted his ankle and he’s probably lying up there unable to walk back down.”

“Okay…I’ll call Wally. He’ll be able to help you if you need him.” She offered.

Wally was her 400 lb volunteer fireman nephew who would probably have a stroke if he walked up my front steps much less the damned mountain but…I was in no mood to argue with her.

“Yeah fine Miss Rose.” I said. “I’ve got my cell phone with me and I’ll call if I need help.”

With that….I headed back up the mountain and was soon hustling through the brush.

After stopping once to catch my breath, I was certain that Barney was at the water falls. His yelping kept getting louder and maybe even more excited sounding to me. I pushed forward and after another ten minutes or so, I crested the little ridge and looked down at the series of small waterfalls and the chain of little pools in the river.

Sure enough, there was big ole goofy Barney standing knee deep in the river facing the largest of the waterfalls…howling his damned head off. I carefully made my way down the treacherous hill until I got to within fifty yards of where Barney was. The noise from the falls partially drowned out the commotion the dog was making but I could still hear it. I yelled several times and Barney looked around without seeing me. Finally I quickly trotted towards him and when I was a few yards closer, I whistled very loudly.

That got his attention at long last and he began lunging toward me and then quickly turning back to face the falls as though he couldn’t make up his mind whether to come or stay where he was.

When I finally reached him and waded into the frigid shallow water to reach his side, I immediately saw what had happened.

I know this sounds terrible but I remember my first thought being…

Damn it!!

Why me?

I know...I'm a selfish bastard but really....

Why ME?

Lying in the water under the waterfall was the body of Mr. Thornton. He was floating in the large pool of water being intermittently pushed underwater from the force of the rushing surge like a child’s rag doll in a washing machine.

Damn!

To Be Continued….. yep....there's more.

Things That Happen When I'm Minding My Own Business...Part Two

2008-04-12T00:50:00.002-05:00

After Susan had driven off, Mr. Thornton finished his drink and offered his hand to me. We shook hands as he was standing up and he smiled warmly.

“Well thank you so much for your kindness but I must be going.”

I offered to make him another drink but, to be honest, I was ready for him to leave. Especially back in those days, I was a virtual hermit and guests, invited or uninvited weren’t one of my favorite things. I liked the little old guy but…well you know.

We exchanged pleasantries as he walked to the car with Barney escorting him step for step. As he opened his door to get in, the strangest thing happened.

Barney jumped in the man’s car, went to the passenger seat and sat down!

DAMN!!

Mr. Thornton hadn’t done a single thing to encourage the dog other than pet him a few times and Barney HAD sat at his feet while we were on my front deck but…nothing else.

We both laughed in amazement at the sight of big ole Barney sitting ramrod straight in the passenger seat staring straight ahead as if saying…

“Home James.”

I went to the passenger side door and opened it.

“Barney, get the hell out the man’s car.” I chuckled and gave Mr. Thornton an embarrassed look.

To my shock and irritation, the dog wouldn’t move. Didn’t even acknowledge that he’d heard me.

He did not so much as glance my way.

I repeated my ‘command’.

NOTHING!

I started to get a little perturbed at this point so I reached in, grabbed him by his collar and literally had to haul him out of the man’s car.

SIDE NOTE:

I think I’ve mention Barney in a couple, hell, maybe a few posts but, for those who don’t know or remember…Barney was truly more of a friend than a dog at that point in my life. As I mentioned earlier, I was in the ‘tortured artist/jaded human being/rugged loner’ stage of my life when I got Barney as an eight week old puppy. I never tried to ‘train’ him much; we just kind of hung out together and became incredibly close and co-dependent.

Non verbal communication was the norm for us and he wasn’t so much obedient as he was eager to please.

We loved each other.

Four years after he was stolen from us, I still think about him almost everyday.

My point is this…..while Barney was incredibly friendly and lovable and EVERYBODY loved Barney….he was strictly a ‘one man dog’!

Don’t get me wrong….he loved to roam but he always came home.

This next part of the tale is gonna sound like b.s. but…..when I look back on his behavior that day and a couple of other times…I believe my analysis of the situation is correct.

He had a remarkable ‘gift’ which I’ll explain in a bit.

I’ll have to tell ya’ll some other Barney stories in the future.

For Example:

Almost every day, the big old goofy bastard would go through the automatic doors at Lowe’s grocery store (a mile from my house) and act like a friggin’ Wal-Mart greeter!

He never stayed outside the store nor did he wander around inside the store, he would simply sit by the door and shake hands with anyone who wasn’t terrified of a 135 lb dog that looked a bit like Astro on the Jetsons.

Most everyone loved it and the local paper even ran a story about him but, due to the article, the county health inspectors decided to ban Barney from his ‘duties’.

People actually cried and wrote angry letters to the editor about how a horrible injustice was being done to Barney!

He was a hoot.

BACK TO THE TALE

After I pulled Barney from the car and shut the door, I let go of his collar and he immediately went around to the driver’s side where Mr. Thornton had just sat down and closed the door. Barney hopped up, put his paws on the window frame, stuck his head in the window and ‘talked’ to the man.

I think that most intelligent dogs are truly PISSED that they can’t speak and Barney was no exception. He would growl, sigh, whine and moan as though he were trying to talk to you and was damned upset that you couldn’t understand him!

The little man looked at me as I came around to his side of the car to get Barney again.

“He IS a friendly chap isn’t he?” He smiled. “I think he rather fancies me.”

I laughed.

“Don’t be too flattered Mr. Thornton…Barney loves almost everybody.”

With that, I grabbed Barney’s collar again and damned if he didn’t pull away from me and GROWL!

I was absolutely stunned and I don’t mind telling you….a little bit scared.

We’ve all heard stories about dogs suddenly ‘snapping’ or ‘going postal’ out of the clear blue.

Hell, if a friggin’ Yorky or a Pomeranian goes bat shit crazy well…it’s no big deal but Barney was one big S.O.B. who loved to chew on lumber for the hell of it!!

He could devour beef rib bones like dog biscuits!

Instinctively, I let go of his collar and he immediately jumped back into the car window.

I looked at Mr. Thornton, he looked at me and we both wore uneasy expressions I’m sure.

After a few seconds, he opened the car door, got out and stood before Barney. He reached down and petted him while looking at me.

“Well….you said that dogs love you Mr. Thornton.” I said apologetically. “I don’t suppose you want a dog?”

He grinned.

“Actually, I would love a dog but I’m afraid I don’t care to own a bloody horse!”

As we stood there trying to figure out what to do about this strange situation, a car came across the little bridge and pulled in behind Mr. Thornton’s.

“I wished I was dead.” I muttered.

Mr. Thornton looked at me.

“I beg your pardon.”

“Here comes trouble.” I said.

It was Susan’s asshole husband…..Bill.

As I mentioned earlier, Bill was a retired NYPD beat cop. He was in his early seventies and one of the surliest men I’ve ever known. I pretty sure the man was weaned on sour milk and vinegar. He was one of those people who could say ‘I love you’ but it came out as ‘kiss my ass’ if you know what I mean.

He sprung out of his Crown Victoria with the nimbleness of a man half his age. Like him or not, you had to give the man his ‘props’. He was in incredible shape for a man his age and loved to regale anyone who would listen as to how physically superior he was to anyone he knew. He began this proclamation with a handshake that would make a Marine drill sergeant weep and a steely eyed glare.

I’m not making this up folks….

When I first met him, I was inspecting the rental house in anticipation of signing the lease. Susan and I were just about to enter the tiny guest house when all of the sudden, a candy apple red Mercedes 450 SL whips into the driveway and a man dressed like a cricket player vaults out of the convertible like something out of a Magnum P.I. episode!

Unfortunately, the wannabe Magnum’s tennis shoe must have failed to clear the top of the door and, as a result, the man pitched quite literally ‘ass over tea kettle’ onto the leaf covered ground.

It was such a hideous landing, face first into the ground and at an impossible angle with no hands breaking the momentum that I was pretty well certain that I was witnessing a ‘Christopher Reeve’ moment!

Damn!! He had to have broken his neck!!!

I heard Susan chuckle and I looked at her in disgust.

“You think THAT’S funny?” I asked.

I watched as the man miraculously rose to his feet albeit a little cautiously.

“Hell yeah it’s funny.” She snorted. “That dick with ears is my husband.”

She opened the door to the guest house and motioned me inside.

“Are you gonna check on him?” I asked.

“Hell no honey….he does enough ‘checking’ for the both of us…..the jealous prick.”

No sooner had we entered the little house than Bill came bursting into the room.

“So dis guy heah is the new tenant huh Susan?” He asked.

She ignored him so I pitched in.

“Well, I’m just sort of looking for now.”

“What’s he looking at Susie?” He growled. “He lookin’ at the fuggin’ house or the gadamn ‘amenities’?”

Geez….what an asshole.

Susan whirled around and faced him.

“Bill, get the fuck out of her right now!” She shouted. “You wanna handle this job….handle the fucking job but don’t tell me to handle the job and then give me a fuckin’ hard time when I do handle the fuckin’ job!”

I was amazed.

Even though I had been in the Navy, I don’t believe I had ever heard such a short statement utilizing the ‘F’ word so many times!

The ‘lady’ was an artist.

Bill glared at me.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

I’ve never liked assholes even though I’ve been one myself many times in my life so naturally……I had to speak up.

“I’m the guy who ain’t gonna rent this place from you.” I said as I headed for the door.

Suddenly, Susan rushed over and grabbed my arm.

“I’ll cut the rent by a hundred a month and I’ll do all the yard work.”

“For crissake Susie, why don’t you just let the fuggin’ guy stay here for free?” he groaned like Archie Bunker.

“Shut the hell up Bill!” she screamed. “Get out of here or I swear I’ll shoot you with your own damned gun when I get home.”

Oddly enough, Bill turned and left but not before delivering a parting shot.

“You just remember that I know where my guns are too!”

There were a few uncomfortable moments after Bill departed and then she turned to me as if nothing had happened.

“So…..you wanna see the darling little room upstairs?”

What the hell could I say?

“Sure.”

As you know….I ended up signing the lease.

The rest is history.

To Be Continued……

Things That Happen When I'm Minding My Own Business

2008-04-08T23:13:00.002-05:00

A few years back I was living in a very old rented house across the street road from the Little Toe River. Yep….that’s the real name. Lord only knows why they named it that but I suspect it’s because the damned thing is barely deep enough to dampen your little toe in places but…who knows? While it’s not much of a ‘river’ it was and is a really good trout stream and is very popular with fly fishermen.

One fall afternoon I was sitting on my front deck with my dog/best friend Barney minding my own business and enjoying the brisk afternoon when a car came around the curve and pulled off the road next to my driveway. I watched curiously to see who would emerge from the car as I tried to prevent Barney, a 130 lb Rottweiler/Lab mix, from tearing off the deck and licking our visitor to death. As we sat there, the door opened and a little old man wearing full body Orvis fly fishing regalia stepped out of the car and went to his trunk where he began unloading his fishing gear.

As he stood there sorting out his gear after giving me a barely noticeable wave, I heard another car approach and recognized it as the black Jaguar belonging to my landlady Susan. She rarely came by unless she was desperate for a partner to play a round of golf or trying to escape her husband Bill….a retired NYPD cop and an asshole of gargantuan proportions.

She knew that I hated playing golf with her so I rarely answered the phone when my caller ID told me that she was calling so…she would simply show up at my house and bushwhack me.

Susan was somewhere in the vicinity of sixty years old and had only taken up golf a few years before and as a result, she was one of the worst golfers I’d ever seen up close. At the time, I was about a twelve handicap (pretty decent) and she was absolutely inept yet extremely dedicated to the game. I would tee off on a par three, land my shot on or near the green then watch her hit the ball (or miss it entirely) fifteen times before she finally reached the green!

It was painful to watch.

I could usually tell by the way she walked up the rose lined walkway whether she was there to beg me to play golf or fix her a really strong drink. I watched carefully as Susan got out of her car and stormed up the path to the deck.

Thank God!!

No golf today….the lady was in a drinking mood.

I could see her eyeing the little old fly fisherman suspiciously as she braced for Barney’s inevitable attack. For some reason Barney LOVED Susan and she loved him but she was always concerned that he would bowl her over and ruin her designer outfit.

As she reached the gate leading to the deck, I mischievously released Barney and he bolted towards her.

“Ron!” she squealed. “You are a dirty sonofabitch!”

Much to our astonishment however, Barney bolted past her as though she wasn’t there and ran immediately to where our unknown angler was standing. I was shocked as I watched Barney run to a spot about two feet from the little man where the giant dog abruptly stopped and simply sat down in front of the man. I had been watching Barney and hollering for him to come back so I didn’t notice it immediately but as I saw Barney sit down, I looked at the man and saw that he had not taken his eyes off of his gear sorting task. He had to have heard me yelling, Susan shrieking and Barney’s huffing and puffing as he lumbered toward him but he never stopped what he was doing. A couple of seconds after the dog had sat down beside him; the little guy looked down at Barney as if he had just noticed him.

“Well then….who might you be?” he asked in a clipped British accent.

Barney hopped up and put his paws on the bumper of the car and the man proceeded to pet him as he looked up at the deck.

“What a magnificent animal.” He stated with an amiable grin.

I laughed and walked to the railing.

“Please don’t let him think you referred to HIM as an animal.” I chuckled. “Let’s just pretend you were talking about Susan here.” I said pointing to my dour land lady.

He gave Barney a shove, shut his trunk and strolled up the walkway with Barney on his heels.

“May I approach the cottage or will this fellow make an appetizer of me?” He asked cocking his head toward Barney.

I waved him up to the deck and he climbed the steps.

“Barney?” Susan snapped. “Hell, you would have to cover yourself with raw liver before he’d bite you! He’s a woosey!”

“Well…..he DOES put forth a furious image doesn’t he?” He laughed.

“Yeah….you really seem terrified don’t you?” I laughed. “How the hell did you DO that?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“How did you make him stop like that?” I asked. “I’ve seen him knock people over trying to say hello.”

“Oh that.” He said nonchalantly. “I have no idea how that works but apparently, dogs love me.” He said simply. “Always have.”

Susan and I looked at each other.

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“On the other hand…. trout absolutely loath me.” He said dejectedly pointing across the road to the stream. “I can’t catch a trout to save my ass.”

We all laughed at this and he introduced himself as David Thornton from England. He explained that he was ‘on holiday’ in America and was newly arrived in our county to try his hand at fly fishing for native, brown and brook trout.

“I’ve been told that almost anyone can land a trout in this river.” He stated hopefully. “Is this your place?”

“No, I’m only renting the place from this lady.” I explained.

I introduced Susan and myself.

After making our introductions, he asked if he might try his luck in the river for a few hours but efore I could say a word, Susan spoke up.

“This is private property sir.” She said rudely.

I looked at her disapprovingly.

“Susan…the man just said that he can’t catch a friggin’ fish to save his ass so….what’s the harm?”

She shot me a nasty look.

“Well…it’s MY property!”

I looked at Mr. Thornton and winked.

“She’s my wicked land lady Mr. Thornton but she’s not all that bad. She seems to have forgotten that this is MY property as long as the rent is paid up so go ahead and fish your heart out.”

Susan started to say something but thought better of it. She grinned and nodded toward the front door.

“Do you have a drink in there?” she asked.

I looked at Mr. Thornton and laughed as he brought his hands up in front of his face like a begging dog.

I could only assume that he too wanted a drink.

Even Susan had to laugh and I invited them into the house.

Susan was quite familiar with the bar and helped herself to an ice cold bottle of Vodka while I asked David what he desired.

He watched as Susan slammed a straight double shot without so much as a grimace and he winced.

“Dear God….did we have a rough day darling?” he asked with a straight face.

I almost fell off the barstool.

In fact, Susan could drink a Russian sailor under the table but, she didn’t like being called out on this fact so…she got a bit indignant.

“No…not a rough day…..a rough LIFE!” she growled.

I couldn’t stand to see her make an ass of herself so I stepped in.

“Susan….I’m sure that Bill (her asshole husband) has been a jerk today or your tee time was canceled or maybe your tanning bed blew up on you but please….as long as you are in MY house….I’m gonna have to ask you to be polite!” I was deliberately yanking her haughty chain which honestly….she enjoyed.

She looked at me and then at David as she poured herself another double.

“You know…” she looked at David. “He’s a real asshole sometimes but he’s right….I should be polite. I don’t do polite very well because I really don’t like people.”

Without missing a beat, David looked at her and grinned.

“Oh dear….what a shame….and I’ll bet they just love you!” He said with a snide look.

I liked this little dude!!!

Mr. Thornton had asked if I had any single malt whiskey and I had to inform him that I didn’t. He then asked for scotch and again, I had to break the sad news that I didn’t. Before he could ask and be disappointed again I reached under the bar and in two seconds, displayed my entire stock of liquor. A bottle of Jack Daniels, half a bottle of Tequila, a drop of Rum and the quickly disappearing bottle of vodka that Susan was apparently intent on ridding me of as soon as humanly possible.

He asked for Jack Daniels on the rocks…straight up.

I poured his drink, grabbed myself a beer and walked back to the deck hoping they would follow me.

They did.

We all found a chair and sat down in silence. After a few seconds, Mr. Thornton began asking about the trout stream. He asked about the type of flies he should use, where to fish and what type of trout he was likely to catch. He began spouting names of flies and types of larvae and insects and…well, he wouldn’t shut up so I interrupted him.

“Canned corn or dry dog food.” I said.

I had to laugh at his expression.

“Pardon me?” He asked.

I repeated myself.

He looked at me as though I’d spoken in tongues.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I explained to him that the river in front of my house was a release point where every couple of weeks, a big truck from the state hatchery pulled up and dumped hundreds of farm raised trout into the stream. Hell, the trout in my part of the river were damn near tame. You could almost grab them with your bare hand but canned corn or dry dog food would do nicely.

It took him a few moments to digest this information before he finally spoke.

“Not very sporting is it?” He asked. “Where is the challenge?”

“The challenge is trying to keep more than one of them to jump on your hook.” I chuckled. “Actually, it’s almost like they turn themselves in or commit suicide…not much of sport really which is why I don’t fish much.”

“Damned disappointing.” He remarked.

After he digested the news, his face lit up and asked me how far up the river he had to go to find the wild trout. I told him that he would have to hike about a mile upstream to a small waterfall but I also informed him that it was a pretty rugged hike up the mountain to reach the best spots.

He was as eager as a kid.

“Well….that’s precisely what I’m looking for!” He almost gushed. “Will you show me where to go?”

I told him that I would show him the trail but that it was too late in the day for him to set out because he would get caught in the dark before he could reach the area. I also told him that I wouldn’t advise him going alone due to the rocky and rugged nature of the trail. Of course, this led him to ask me to act as guide for him.

I told him that I couldn’t guide for him tonight or the next day but that I would show him the trail head and if he was dead set on going it alone, it would be easy to follow the trail in daylight.

This idea thrilled the hell out of the feisty little dude.

Susan, who had been sitting there listening to all this was now on her fourth or fifth shot of vodka finally spoke up in a slurred voice.

“Yer gonna climb that mountain to catch a damned fish when all you gotta do is just go across the road over there and invite one of those slimey sumbitches to jump in your fucking basket?” She asked incredulously. “That’s just plain stupid!” She added.

Mr. Thornton and I laughed like hell as we watched he stand up shakily and wave her hand as if dismissing both of us as morons.

“Go on….break your friggin’ neck for all I care!” She spat. “I’m goin’ home to my asshole husband.”

With that she staggered to her car and drove away.

We looked at each other.

“She’s quite the charmer isn’t she?” He asked.

“Oh yeah…and you caught her on a good day.” I laughed.

To Be Continued……

Great News!!

2008-03-31T21:56:00.000-05:00

Michelle has been doing really well with her new run of treatments and today, we got incredible news!

For those of you not familiar with the whole cancer struggle thing, ‘tumor markers’ are test results which give the oncologists a good insight into the effectiveness of treatments on the tumors themselves. The lower the ‘numbers’, the better the news is for those of us who live and die with the results…literally.

Before this last run of chemo, Michelle’s ‘markers’ were up around the mid eighties. A few months ago, her ‘markers’ went down into the fifties and of course, we were elated. Two months ago, tests showed that they were down even further to thirty eight (apparently normal for ANYONE who doesn’t even have cancer) and again, we celebrated. This morning we received a call from Michelle’s treatment nurse who sneaked an advanced peek at last weeks blood tests and she informed us that her ‘markers’ are now down to TWENTY SEVEN point THREE!!!

We danced in the kitchen and called all of our friends and family!

God really does love my girl!

You can’t really call it ‘remission’ until there is no evidence of tumors whatsoever but….we’ll gladly take it.

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers.

I’m a fortunate man indeed to have such a precious little wife and God willing, she’s going to be around a long time yet!

Having shared that good news, I’ll close for now but I’m going to be back very soon with a story ya’ll might find interesting from a few years ago. I had forgotten all about it until I talked to an old friend of mine yesterday.

Here’s a teaser for you….it involves a drunken landlady, a drugged out neighbor, a dead fisherman and a dumbassed husband…..and then it gets weird!

Till then….

Just A Few Lines

2008-03-28T11:10:00.001-05:00

Thanks for those of you who still stop by from time to time. I haven’t spent much time at the computer recently for a number of reasons but, for those of you who have asked about us, trust me….we’re doing well.

Michelle’s chemo took her hair again but she made it through fine and her hair is coming back even though she’s continuing on a new round of a pill form of chemo. It’s making her hands and feet a bit sensitive but otherwise she’s tolerating it well and all the tests show that she doing fantastic. Thank God for that.

I’ve been trying to get back into the office a few days a week but I feel a bit like a stranger in my own company! My brother/partner has been running things for so long and the biz has grown so much that I can’t seem to feel comfortable anymore. We still have the base of ‘old’ employees, five or so but now there are many more ‘new’ ones and damn…they are all so friggin’ young! Sometimes I feel as if I hear one more sentence containing sixteen ‘oh my gawd’, ‘you know’ or ‘like’s I’m gonna go berserk! College freakin’ graduates who talk like damned ‘80’s’ era Valley Girls! Lord save me. Oh yeah…why do they have to call everyone (except Mike and I) ‘dude’? Just asking. And what’s up with them showing up for work as though they just rolled out of bed? Damn I’m getting old.

Okay….I’ll shut up now!

I’ve been asked why I quit blogging regularly and to be honest…I don’t know but I’ll resume someday I’m sure. I think one reason is that one of my employees found out about the blog and now I feel kind of weird about writing anymore. Strange. He’s a great kid and he says he loves my stuff but still…just seems kind of strange to me.

Well, anyway…that’s the update and I hope to be back soon.

God Bless you all.

Ron

Hi Folks

2008-01-30T23:17:00.000-05:00

Just checking in to let ya’ll know that I’m alive and well.

Well….as well as I can be at this time. It has been a long cold winter here in the High Country and to be honest, I’m sick of it!

Bless her precious heart, Michelle is undergoing a new round of chemo involving a drug called Xeloda and while the side effects are not hitting her as bad as they do a lot of people (thank God!), but she’s been a bit lethargic lately and for her…..that’s not a good thing. She’s always been such a dynamo and full of energy that to feel less than energetic is a real downer for her and, by extension, me.

I hate it for her but being a selfish kind of guy…I’m just praying and positive that the lethargy simply means that the drugs are working.

Yep….it’s ALL about ME!

I just want her to be healed and with me FOREVER.

As for me, I can’t seem to find the time, desire or inclination to write anything these days. Maybe it’s the winter ‘blahs’ or the fact that I’m lazy but, aside from ‘reading’ a bunch of historical biographies while working at butchering a ton of wood in the shop (I just discovered books on CD/Cassette)…..I’ve been well….a lazy SOB!

If you haven’t tried them….check out books on CD! Reading has always been a passion of mine and I’ll never stop reading but with the CD’s and Cassettes, I can ride my bike, do wood working or damn near anything and ‘READ’ at the same time. Too cool.

Do yourself a favor and read the biographies of Mark Twain, George Washington, Ben Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, Jefferson et al….DAMN! Those guys were simply amazing.

Men and women in past generations put our generation to abject shame.

We are not worthy of the life THEY allowed us to live.

Hopefully I’ll get into writing again soon but until then, thank you all for checking in on me.

See you soon.

Ron

Merry Christmas

2007-12-24T21:45:00.000-05:00

Man....I've been really busy this Christmas season! I wanted to take the time however to wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

Things are good here on the home front and I pray they are on yours.

Take care and God Bless from Ron and Michelle.

See you soon.

2007-12-14T00:34:00.000-05:00

Michelle underwent her ninth chemo treatment in this latest round on Wednesday. All of the blood work and tests are saying that my prayers are being answered. She’s doing really well. Her tumor markers are down into the normal range from a high of 87 but a combination of the chemo treatment and the ingesting of a ‘contrast agent’ beverage last night in advance of a CatScan today made her pretty sick.

She’s feeling much better today but I have to admit that last night scared the hell out of me.

Most folks who undergo ‘serious’ chemo experience pretty terrible reactions but, thank God, Michelle has always cruised right through as if it was no big deal. Yes, she’s had a few ‘down’ days and she’s lost her hair twice now but….she’s always handled it like a champ.

Last night however, she wasn’t her normal SuperWoman self. She was as sick as a dog and absolutely FURIOUS about it!

No….she didn’t go crazy or anything but, for her…she really got PISSED!

She REFUSES to give in to the chemo OR the cancer!

Lord, this is one tough little woman.

I tried to comfort her as we lay in bed last night. It was somewhere around two a.m.. I had really tried to take care of her and cater to her every need for hours. Inspite of my best albiet bumbling efforts, she was feeling absolutely miserable. As I held her close, she turned her head toward the wall.

“Hey Big Boy….will you do me a favor?” she asked sweetly.

Alright! She was going to ask me to get her a glass of juice or something! I could do SOMETHING to make her feel better!

Wrong!!

She rolled over to face me.

She smiled her best angelic smile before she spoke.

“Will you PLEASE roll over and go the hell to sleep?” She asked. “You’re driving me NUTS!”

We both laughed a while.

She pushed me away and ordered me to leave her alone.

"Don't say another word!" she laughed. "Just go to sleep!"

“Okay darlin’.” I chuckled. “You wake me up if you need me.”

“I told you to shut up!!" she ordered.

After a minute or two we stopped laughing again.

"You wake me up if you need ME.” She said. “I’m more worried about you than I am me!”

"Not a word!!" She demanded.

I did as she asked and turned onto my right side and lay there in silence for a long time.

The entire time, I thought of what my life had been since I met her.

I thought about what my life would be without her.

After a long while, she turned and put her left arm around my chest and nuzzled her face into the base of my neck.

“Don’t worry Big Boy…..there ain’t NOTHING that GOD can’t fix.” She whispered softly. “This is just a rough patch….I’m not going anywhere.”

How amazing is THAT?

She's the one with cancer and yet...she’s comforting ME.

What an incredible woman she is.

Please pray for her…for us.

I’d be lost without her.

Memories...Part VI

2007-12-11T23:49:00.000-05:00

Sorry to have taken so long in getting back to the tale but Michelle has kept me chained in the workshop making old fashioned Christmas ornaments for every friend and family member we have EVER known! The first dozen or so miniature sleds and ornaments were fun but….after a bit, it came to be a lot like WORK and trust me on this….work ain’t my thing these days.

Oh well…..they are all done now and I’m back to doing what I do best…creative loafing!

Back To The Tale….

Okay….so, when we left our tale, I had been arrested.

Well, very shortly after my apprehension, they threw my dumb ass into a jail cell which was only slightly more comfortable than a Porta-John but not nearly quite as sanitary. I’ve always been a bit of a germ phobic/clean freak sort of guy and I can tell you…I was shocked and appalled at my new living quarters! Man….it was something out of the movie ‘Papillion’. Okay, it wasn’t THAT bad but it was pretty damned horrible.

I must have sat in that filthy cell for at least four hours that day before the jailer came into hallway and slid the key in my door.

“C’mon kid, you’re gonna have a little talk with the Captain.” He smiled as he spoke. “I wouldn’t wanna be you.”

“Trust me…I ain’t exactly all shits and giggles about being me myself right now.” I lamented.

He looked at me and laughed.

“Now THAT’S funny!” He said. “I hope you can keep your sense of humor when they send your ass out to pick turnips ten hours a day at the prison farm.”

Holy Shit!!

Honestly…I was scared to death at that point.

He guided me down the hall towards a big steel door.

The jailer looked to be about forty years old. He had scars around his eyes that suggested that he had experienced more than a few rounds in the ring. I knew the look of an old boxer and he had it.

I asked him if he was fighter and he grinned.

“Oh yeah…but unfortunately, not much of a boxer.” He chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“My old man was a fighter in the Navy and I used to hang around the gym with some of the old guys.” I told him.

He grinned.

“Yep…I’m old and I used to fight.” He said. “Did you do it?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Did you rob all those people?” He asked as though I was an idiot.

“No.” I said. “I didn’t rob anybody! Is that what they’re saying I did?”

He shook his big head.

“Oh yeah bubba….you’re in a whole world of shit.”

I remember feeling pretty overwhelmed.

Within minutes, I was sitting in the Captain’s office in a leather chair and eating dougnuts. I couldn’t believe it but…there I was eating my fill of pastries, drinking strong black coffee and shooting the breeze with the big jailer and a police captain who HAD to be just shy of ninety three years old!!

He looked like Strom Thurmond on the day he died!

Shortly after I walked in and was escorted to chair, the captain acknowledged my presence and told me that I was welcomed to have some doughnuts and coffee. At first, I didn’t catch what he had said because the words came out sounding something like…

“Gitshosell some cough ‘n sweeze son.” ( Get yourself some coffee and sweets son.)

Side Note….

I translate for those of you who may be unfamiliar with an extreme low country South Carolina drawl as well as the colloquialisms of that particular area of the country.

As a matter of fact, in South Carolina, “Sweets” are basically anything NOT pork or rice.

Back To The Tale….

The old captain watched me eat and drink coffee for a few minutes before he looked at the jailer and grinned.

“Dontcha wish you could still eat like that Delbert?” He laughed. “Ain’t nuttin’ but a young man can eat like ‘at!”

Delbert laughed.

The captain introduced himself.

“Son….mah name is Cap’n Coker but you can call me ‘Yes Sir’.” He drawled rather pleasantly. “ Ah need to get a statement from you ‘bout what happened at dat house d’other night.”

Now….I’d like to pretend that I held up to his brutal questioning in a way that Jack Baer would be envious of but let me tell you……

I broke down like a Lego roller coaster!

For the next hour I recalled exactly what had actually happened before, during and after the event. Hell, you would have thought that I was questioning myself! I was absolutely honest and thorough.

The only thing that stopped my re-telling of the entire affair was the occasional interruption from Cap’n Coker or ole Delbert the jailor who apparently did double duty as a cop.

After telling my tale, the old Cap’n looked at me for awhile without speaking. I swear that he stared at me for at least three minutes before he said a word. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t me to whom his words were addressed.

“Delbert….you b’lieve dis boy?” He asked quietly.

Damned if Delbert didn’t stare at me for yet another silent three minutes or so. I was going crazy in anticipation of what the hell was going to happen next.

Finally, Delbert looked at the Cap’n and spoke softly.

“Captain….I know a couple of them folks who he was s’posed to have robbed and I tend to believe this here boy.”

I couldn’t believe my ears! I had old Delbert on MY side!

Captain Coker considered this for a moment and slapped his desk.

“Well, by God…I do b’lieve dat ah b’lieve him too.” He smiled at me. “Howevah….the fact is dat we ain’t duh judge so….lock his ass dumb ass up till we figure dis out.”

I spent the next few days in that crappy cell until finally, I went before a judge and, to this day, I can’t remember the exact details of the legalities but, it went something like this.

Most of the ‘victims’ of the alleged crimes had blown town while the few who had been found were suspected by all involved, to be absolute liars. Thankfully, no one believed their stories.

HOWEVER….

Turns out, the judge had a real problem with the fact that I had taken justice into my own hands and, he said, was ‘duty bound’ to punish me. He regaled the courtroom with an elaborate speech about the value of the rule of law as opposed to ‘vigilante justice’ and proceeded to drop all the charges EXCEPT for something I think he called ‘entering a dwelling with the intent of whuppin’ some rednecks asses ‘cause they ganged up on you the day before’.

Or something like that.

They took me back to my cell that afternoon after informing me that my sentencing hearing would take place early the next morning.

As I brooded in my cell, Delbert the jailer showed up in the company of a tiny little dude in a Navy uniform.

“Ron….this is my brother in law. He’s a U.S. Navy recruiter and you need to talk to him.” He said flatly and then turned and walked away.

I don’t remember all the details but to be honest, I was definitely ‘all ears’ after the recruiter told me that I could avoid an eighteen months sentence at a prison farm if I agreed to sign up for ‘four short years’ in Uncle Sam’s Canoe Club.

They released me the next day after I stood before the judge and signed a document declaring that I was ‘volunteering’ for active duty in the U.S. Navy as a condition of the expunging of my criminal record.

Within one week I was heading for boot camp in Orlando, Florida.

Such is the story of how I ‘joined’ the Navy.

I may write soon of my time in the Navy. Trust me…it WAS eventful because as you all may have guessed…..

I didn't exactly 'fit in' in the Navy.

Until Next Time…

Memories...Part V.

2007-11-29T23:31:00.000-05:00

I went looking for Steve or Grunt or both and spent a LONG time that day not finding them. Most of the time back then, I couldn’t turn around without running into one of those guys but now that I needed them….nope.

Usually, walking around Myrtle Beach for me back then was one of those magic experiences that only a young person can experience. In those days, I would stroll around aimlessly in search of whatever cool thing might happen next. No plans, no schedule, no cares and of course, looking back on it now…..

No freakin’ CLUE!

HOWEVER

It was a wonderful time in my life.

SIDE NOTE:

I would love to think that EVERY young person could experience such a carefree time..at least for a year or two anyway. Life gets really serious after a certain age. I think everyone should be a _________ (fill in your description of such a person…hippy, derelict, bum, bohemian, etc.) for a year or so.

It nourishes the soul, defies barriers and reveals character.

I can remember getting up in the morning, eating half of a left over sandwich procured from a cooler full of cheap beer, smoking a joint and wandering off down the beach with absolutely NO plans. I remember running into friends and acquaintances and total strangers and getting caught up in one adventure after another.

Hell, I met a girl one morning at a breakfast buffet joint with whom I struck up a conversation. I was doing what any starving artist did in a cheap restaurant which advertised an ‘All You Can Eat Breakfast Bar’ at the time….I was filling my second or third plate and several pockets of a winter Army coat in the middle of July with mass quantities of food to feed my voracious youthful appetite.

She was probably nineteen years old and wearing as little as was allowed in a public place. A thin yellow halter top and a white bikini bottom. Not to mention a ‘please make love to me’ grin.

I can’t say that this is a verbatim account of the conversation but…it’s damned close.

“Hey there……I saw you play a couple of nights ago.” She cooed. “I really enjoyed it.”

I grinned and basked in the praise while piling food on my overburdened plate.

“What are you doing today?” she asked. “Maybe we could make love.”

Maybe?

Before the reverberation of her words on my ear drums had subsided, I was on my way to jump into her Corvette! It was a ridiculous orange color but DAMN! It was a brand new ‘Vette’ with side pipes and much to my delight…

She tossed me the keys!

Her name was Debbie Shook. Go sue me…that was her name and I’ve never seen her again but…she was HOT!

I remember spending the entire day cruising Ocean Boulevard occasionally stopping at one bar, beach, restaurant or the other.

The memory is etched in my mind for a couple of reasons.

Back then, the premier social activity was joining the mass of traffic on the two laned Ocean Boulevard and traveling at a blistering two miles per hour while hollering at the pedestrian traffic and sharing joints with perfect strangers. Several times during the day, we returned to her motel room, made love and headed back out onto the town.

While that IS a great memory……..the ONE dominant memory is that, at least twice that day, while exiting the ‘Vette', I accidentally laid the back side of my left calf onto the red hot side pipes of that damned car!!

MAN that shit HURT!! I had a HUGE blister for a week or two.

Of course, we made love on the beach that night as well and…by that time…I had a few blisters elsewhere!

Ah to be young and incredibly horny!

Another great memory is playing at a place called ‘The Upper Room’ and being invited to play at a private party the next day. Before I knew it, I was on a private plane flying to Key West where I spent one hell of week and arrived back in Myrtle Beach $500.00 richer! Dear God…that was BIG bucks back ‘in the day’!

Okay….back to the story.

I finally found Grunt at an Arcade in Ocean City. He was half stoned/drunk and in no mood to be pulled away from his quest of the record on the SuperBoy pinball machine.

“Give me a minute dude…..I’m almost there!” He shouted.

I can recall going over to the snack stand and grabbing a hot dog and a beer while I waited for him to tilt the machine. While I munched on the dog and drank the beer, damned if Steve didn’t come boppin’ in!

Damn was I glad to see him!!

I walked over to him urgently and our eyes met.

I’ll never forget the look on his face.

Looking behind him, I could see three county sheriff officers and of course…I knew we were busted!

Oddly enough, I couldn’t get mad at Steve for giving us up. As I later found out, one of the ‘victims’ of our alleged crime spree knew Steve’s name but, even before I knew that…I couldn’t get mad at him.

Hell, we were all caught up in a situation that had careened WAY out of control!

Sure, he had given us up but DAMN….we were being accused of some SERIOUS shit!

As I was beginning to accept the fact that I was about to be arrested, Steve and I discovered that Grunt had no intention of being so forgiving toward Steve.

He took one look at Steve and the constabulary and went absolutely crazy!

Before I knew what was happening, he lunged at Steve and delivered a horrendous right hand to his unsuspecting face. Steve went down and Grunt went after the first cop with a fury I had never seen!

He kicked him in the groin and headed toward the second and third officer. I watched as he grabbed the next officer by the arm and slung him onto a SkeeBall alley as though he were a rag doll. By then, the third much older officer had pulled his pistol but, he wasn’t nearly quick enough. Grunt rushed him head on and they went down in a heap as the cop’s pistol went off.

Holy shit!! People went scurrying and screaming everywhere!

To this day, I don’t know what possessed me to do it but I ran over to where the officer and Grunt had landed. I jumped on Grunt’s back and did my best to subdue him as he was wrestling with the older cop. Between the two of us, we managed to get him under control and before I knew what was happening, the three of us were handcuffed and on our way to jail in three separate vehicles!

I remember thinking of what my Grandaddy Rock used to say….

“Boy…..no good turn goes unpunished!”

In my mind, I had saved a cop from getting his ass kicked and here I was going to jail on a bunch of trumped up charges!

Oh well….such is life.

To Be Continued…..

I’ve Been Thinkin’…..

2007-11-26T23:52:00.000-05:00

You know, sometimes I feel a little apprehensive about all the stuff I write in this blog. I mean really….think about it.

All bloggers open up their lives up to all kinds of crazy stuff because, by the very nature of the internet, this stuff is out there virtually well…forever!

Thank God for the statute of limitations AND the fact that I’m not younger!

Can you imagine ME trying to get a job these days and having an employer catch wind of this blog? Hell, I’d be relegated to most menial jobs imaginable. I can almost see the 17 yr old assistant manager of the local Long John Silver trying to let my 53 yr old sorry ass down easy.

"Sorry Ron.....you're simply not up to LJS's standards for the 'mop boy' position."

God has been SO good to me ya’ll. Trust me on this one. Better than I deserve.

Many times as I’m writing this stuff, I wonder if people doubt the voracity of my weird stories but I assure you……it’s ALL true.

Unfortunate but true.

Sometimes, I wonder if some of those same people think that I was or AM a horrible person.

Thankfully, all of the people who are important to me already know about my life and love me just the same. My precious wife lived through some of it and has been told about the rest. It makes no sense but…she thinks I’m THE MAN! Go figure.

My Mom lived through almost ALL of it and says that I’m the only hell she ever raised but amazingly…she thinks I’m close to wonderful.

My Dad thinks I’m a freak of nature and even though I have irritated him for the majority of my life…he loves me too. To be honest though....I sometimes feel as though his love is the kind of love a father would bestow up a ‘special’ child. Not a great child but rather, more of a short bus ridin’, helmet wearin’, name and address tag pinned to his jacket kind of child.

My brother loves me and has rescued me so many times that he should be a certified life guard! He says that I have shown him what his life could have been like if he too had been born with an insatiable desire to have fun, horrible judgement, and the heart of a poet. He swears that he’s gonna make sure that my head stone reads….

He Just Came To Play

Hell…I LIKE that!

Oh yeah…..my little sisters love me too but hell...they love everybody!

My point in all this rambling is simply THIS….

For all the strange and really troubling stuff that I’ve done, experienced or witnessed….I never was a really bad guy. Stupid maybe but not really bad.

As I said before...I've been truly blessed and lucky.

I’m just glad that I’m not writing this blog from a prison library computer!

I’ll be back tomorrow to continue the tale.

Thanks for dropping by.

Memories...Part IV.

2007-11-25T23:33:00.000-05:00

I hope ya'll had a great Thanksgiving. We had a BUNCH of friends and family up for the day and we are just now getting back to normal from the experience!

Back To The Story....

Even though I had already received a measure of revenge, part of me wanted MORE. I really wanted to stay and do more damage to those assholes but, what with all the gunfire and screaming, I decided that it was time to promptly haul our asses out of there.

We headed out the door and were running for the car when quite unexpectedly, several shots were fired behind us! We had just reached the car when Steve swung around and unleashed lord knows how many rounds from his pistol. The guy who had fired the shots from the house, ducked back inside and we took off like the proverbial bats out of hell!

All three of us were speechless for several miles as Grunt drove steadily away from the crime scene. I can’t really describe what happened next other than to say that we took turns making strange noises. Not much in the way of communication….just sounds. Whoops, hollers, heavy expulsions of breath, ‘Oh mans’, ‘holy shits’.

No real discussion for quite awhile.

We made it back to downtown Myrtle Beach and Grunt pulled into the parking lot of a little bar we used to hang out at called “The Place”. As he switched off the engine and the car continued to vapor lock and chug awhile, Steve reached out and clapped me on the shoulder from the rear seat.

“Well…..what are we gonna do next man?” He laughed. “Gonna be hard to outdo THAT shit dude!”

We looked at each other for a bit and finally began laughing.

Minutes later we were sitting at a table in the darkened bar congradulating ourselves over how we had handled the whole situation. Oh yeah.....we were BAD! Nobody could mess with us and get away with it!!

Is there any animal on the face of God's green earth dumber than a young man?

I don't think so.

Anyway.....

As we spoke, we agreed that no one at the redneck house knew who we were. No one knew our names. We were pretty sure that no one had gotten the tag number of the car. Hell…no one had been hurt any worse than I had been beaten up by THEM so…what the hell? It was strictly a case of ‘tit for tat’ so, even though we were still jacked up by the experience, we weren’t anticipating any real trouble. Of course we expected the possibility of more trouble from the rednecks if we crossed trails with them again but, other than that…we figured we were free to laugh, kid and joke about the event.

For anyone experienced in real life in general or MY LIFE in particular….well, you know that it just wasn’t THAT simple!

The remainder of the night passed uneventfully.

The next day, I was sitting beside the pool at the Firebird motel visiting a few friends who were staying there. I remember that someone had a radio cranked up and we were listening to the music.

A storm was said to be approaching and everyone was keyed up about how bad the weather was going to be in the next few days. Hurricanes have always been closely followed by east coast beach goers and we were hungry for weather updates. So….. that was my mindset when the music stopped and the DJ began talking.

“We’ll have the latest on the rough weather heading our way but first…….a shockingly brutal armed robbery last night on the Grand Strand"

I can still remember thinking, “Damn man! That kind of crap doesn’t happen around here. That’s horrible!”

The announcer continued

Three heavily armed men broke into a rental house on Terrace Street last night and wounded several people in the home. A yet to be determined amount of money and personal items were stolen before the gunmen fled leaving behind an unbelievable scene of carnage.” He intoned.

Well damn! We were all shocked to hear of such a thing happening in Myrtle Beach! What the hell was this world coming to?

The DJ went on to give a description of the assailants as well details about the getaway vehicle. By the time he got around to describing the rusted door on Grunts old clunker car, I was almost physically ill!

Dear God!

THEY was US!!

Never before or since have I felt so completely terrified. Armed robbery? Wounded people? Carnage?

What the HELL was going on?

I don’t recall what happened next in any great detail but I DO remember thinking that everyone at the pool knew EXACTLY who the announcer was speaking of!

I slinked away from the scene like a scared cat.

Back in those days, news of an armed robbery in Myrtle Beach was closely akin to the Manson Murders in L.A. or, at least it seemed so to me at the time. Everyone seemed to be talking about it and it was all over the tv, radio and newspaper. Thank God there was no internet back then!

I felt like the most wanted man in America even though I was certain that only two other people knew that I was connected to the heinous crime we had supposedly committed.

I HAD to find Grunt and Steve so that we could get put our mostly empty heads together and figure out what we were going to do!

To Be Continued………..

Memories...Part Three.

2007-11-19T23:40:00.000-05:00
It’s really amazing how some events in your life are seared in your memory while others seem to waft around in the ether.

Unfortunately for me, some of the best experiences of my life are downright cloudy when I attempt to remember them while really BAD experiences are somehow burned into my consciousness so vividly that, I couldn’t forget a single detail even if threatened with a painful death!

I hate that.

I’m sure a psychologist would have a field day with me.

Oh well…

The story continues.

I distinctly remember telling Steve and Grunt that I wanted to handle the situation personally and that they were supposed to only act as ‘peace keepers’. In other words, I wanted to take my revenge while they made sure that I didn’t get my ass beaten by several people for the THIRD time that week!

Hell….I thought that was pretty damned reasonable since I had suffered a broken left wrist, a few busted ribs as well as numerous and sundry superficial injuries during the two previous ass whippings!

I was willing to fight those guys one handed as long as I had my ‘posse’ keeping the other rednecks off of me! My theory was that I was a tough guy and I could kick their asses one at a time albeit one handed as long as I wasn’t ‘ganged up on’ in the process.

You know….John Wayne style.

Side Note:

Have I mentioned that I was a USDA choice friggin’ MORON back then? Don’t get me wrong, I’m not exactly a genius THESE days but DAMN I was stupid back then!! It’s really quite amazing that I survived some of the dumb crap I did back then. I’m not proud of it but I really didn’t grow a semblance of a brain until I was almost forty years old.

Michelle will readily testify to the fact that I’m no Nobel laureate even now but….I finally got a bit smarter with time.

Anyway…..the following account is proof positive of my abject stupidity that night. I learned a valuable lesson that fateful evening.

Here it is....

"The best laid plans of a blithering IDIOT are after all…… the best laid plans of a blithering IDIOT!!"

Back To The Story…..

We pulled up in front of the house and Grunt turned off the engine. We were trying to be stealthy so, of course, the old car kept running for at least a full minute after the key was turned off! Finally, after chugging, spitting and coughing for a long time, the motor finally quit with a sound reminiscent of a pair of huge dice rolled down a twenty foot wash board.

Remember that? It’s funny…. cars don’t seem to do that anymore but, back then, it happened all the time.

See? I remember all kinds of weird details about the bad times!

Anyway….once the car finally finished it’s death rattle, we disembarked and stood on the sidewalk facing the house.

“Okay boys, let’s go kick some ass!” Steve said adamantly.

“No….Steve….I’m gonna kick some ass!” I said. “Ya’ll just hang back and let me handle things…OKAY?”

Grunt and Steve grinned and nodded in agreement.

Steve walked to the back of the car, popped the trunk and pulled out a sawed off shotgun which he presented to Grunt.

Grunt took the shotgun and jacked a round into the chamber while Steve examined a large revolver he had also taken from the trunk.

Steve reached into the trunk AGAIN and produced a silver automatic which, in later court proceedings was determined to be a .45 caliber pistol.

“Here dude, you might need this.” He said.

I remember thinking that I shouldn’t take the pistol but, I didn’t think that for very long because I not only took it but I chambered a round and took the safety off.

I was definitely…in the moment.

Without speaking again, we walked to the front porch and marched into the house through the open front door.

There was definitely a party going on and we were hardly noticed as we strolled into the house. Much to my surprise, who should be standing just inside the front door but the red headed dude!

“What the f……..” was about all he said before I back handed him on the left side of his head with the heavy pistol in my right hand.

He fell over a chair and landed on the bare floor of the living room. Before he could move I kicked him in the ribs.

Have I ever told ya’ll that I was a damned good kicker back in the day?

Had his kidneys not been trapped inside his torso, the kick would have been good from fifty yards out! I drilled his ass.

Anticipating a revolt by the party goers, Grunt did what any brain cell deficient thug would do at a time like that…..

He fired the shotgun into the ceiling!

As plaster dust filled the room and my ears rang, I could see out of the corner of my eye that the big, fat, hideous woman who had repeatedly kicked my rib cage in the other night was waddling straight for me with a menacing look on her face!!

Of all the events of that night, I must admit to ONE singularly guilty pleasure and incredibly fond memory.

I fully realize that this is wrong on SO MANY levels but, for the life of me, I can’t regret what happened next.

Never before and certainly never since, I hit a woman.

Let me rephrase that.

I drilled a woman!

I saw that fat cow lumbering toward me wearing that same diabolical expression she wore when she repeatedly kicked me in the ribs a couple of nights before and…. I simply LOST it!!

Without a single thought of remorse, I hit her so damned hard that I’m sure her grand children will be deformed for generations!

Joe Frasier would have been awed.

Actually, I’m damned lucky I didn’t kill her. Seriously….her head snapped back and to the left and she went down in a heap and didn’t move a muscle. We all watched her as she lay there on the floor and a dark stain began to form on her massive ass!

Have you ever heard the expression, “knocked the shit out of someone”?

Well…..needless to say…it DOES happen.

Immediately, I was terrified that I had actually killed her but, before I could muster another thought, Red Head guy was grabbing me around the waist attempting to stand up…or pull me down….I don’t know which.

Reflexively, I punched him on the top of his head and he went down just as Grunt fired yet another round into the ceiling!

I remember turning toward Steve.

“Take that fuckin’ thing away from him!” I shouted.

Steve looked at me and then looked at Grunt who was standing there sweating profusely, bare chested and brandishing a smoking twelve gauge sawed off shotgun.

He gave me a ‘what the hell’ kind of look.

“YOU take it away from him!” He said.

I stood there in the middle of the room trying to figure out what to do next.

Slowly, it dawned on me that I really hadn’t figured out an end game for this act. What the hell was I going to do NOW?

As I began to realize that there was NO good resolution for this scenario, the short James Dean acting asshole began shouting at me.

“You’re dead man!” He screamed. “You’re DEAD!!”

I remember feeling that there was no way out of this situation and…like any trapped animal, I reacted.

I walked over to him and leveled the .45 at his forehead. He stiffened and backed up to the wall. I followed and pressed the barrel of the gun directly between his bushy eye brows and pushed HARD!!

Looking back on it now, I was only two pounds of pressure on the trigger from becoming a resident on death row. Seriously…it was THAT close.

It’s damned frightening to think of these days but the absolute truth is that while I’m now fifty three years old…..my life could have ended years ago in an electric chair in the state of South Carolina.

It was simply THAT close.

“Who’s dead now asshole?” I asked as I moved the pistol three inches to the left of his face and fired a round into to wall.

The report of the .45 in the small room was horrendous and I remember the guy falling to the floor. For a brief moment I thought the bullet had ricocheted back into his head but, the truth was that he was simply doing what comes naturally when a large caliber pistol is discharged inches from your face……

He fell into a fetal position and was whimpering like a small child.

As my eyes scanned the room, I made an executive decision….

IT WAS TIME TO VAMOOSE!!

To Be Continued.

Memories...Part Two

2007-11-16T00:04:00.000-05:00
Thanks for dropping by ya’ll. Rocky…as usual, you’re a hoot. As usual, Jean you’re a sweet heart. Mick thanks for rattling my memory on the Navy days. Assrot….I sure wish you would change your name so that I could mention it without feeling so damn…..wierd. What a hoot. Where the HELL did you get that name?

Well…back to the tale.

I was hangin’ out on the beach with a bunch of friends when it all happened. One of the guys had turned up with a small grocery bag full of marijuana and most of us were as stoned as a burka-less Muslim woman. (stoned….get it?) I know….not all that funny. However, we were having our usual good time when all of a sudden, four older red necked looking guys came up and started to deliberately try and ‘harsh our buzz’ as they say.

One of my best pals back then was a guy we all called ‘Tank’. No…he wasn’t very big at all but he once got so stoned and drunk that he dunked his head into a lobster tank at a seafood restaurant. He later explained as we were all ushered out of the joint that one of the lobsters had asked him to “come closer”. So..he did.

Anyway, Tank was a harmless guy but nonetheless, a couple of the rednecks were getting in his face about something or other. I began easing over to where they stood to see what was going on. As I grew close enough, I could hear a couple of them making fun of Tank’s hair which, quite frankly looked a little like a vintage Artis Gilmore afro and while Tank WAS tanned…he was NOT black.

They really weren’t acting all that aggressive so I walked up in a very passive manner.

“Hey guys…..what’s goin’ on?” I asked innocently.

The shortest guy in the foursome gave me his best James Dean greaser grimace.

“We ain’t talkin’ to you.” Was all he said.

I looked at Tank.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

Tank looked at me with fear in his eyes before he managed to say that he was okay.

A skinny guy with red hair stepped up and got in Tanks face.

“We don’t want no white hippy niggers on our fuckin’ beach.” He snarled. “Don’t let me catch you here again.”

Tank was a meek guy but, this being the era of social revolution, his outrage had been ignited and he began to preach to the guy about how racist and offensive his remark had been.

Well….truth be told…he didn’t get much of a chance to voice his abject indignation before the guy landed a hay maker upside the left side of Tanks bushy head. I think the punch actually landed somewhere between the opening of his mouth and the expulsion of air as his first word was being uttered.

He went down faster than a Clinton intern!

Well damn…..hippy or not, that pissed me off! Truth be known….I was a hippy in lifestyle only. Hell, I grew up fighting, playing football and raising hell so….the ex full strength Southern boy overtook my Harry Chapin side and I charged the guy. My right shoulder drove into his chest so hard that I could hear the wind leave his lungs as we both hit the sand. We landed hard and before I could pick myself up off of him, his buddies decided that I would make a great communal punching bag. I got in a few shots but, for the most part, they kicked the crap out of me. A couple of them held me up, down, and sideways while the other guys wore me out until some other good natured beach goers managed to pull them off of me. Tank and I were both left on the beach, bleeding and moaning while the merry band of rednecks ambled off.

Thankfully, neither of us was injured too badly but I was damned mad. Later in the afternoon, one of the kids who had been on the beach came up to me as I was sitting at an outdoor patio bar nursing my wounds.

“Hey dude….I know where those guys are staying!” He grinned. “The assholes who jumped you.” He added.

I looked at him and then at Tank.

“Oh really?” I laughed. “Well…why don’t we go visit ‘em Tank?”

“What the hell for?” He asked seriously.

“Revenge would be a good reason don’t you think?” I asked.

He looked at me as though I was stark raving mad.

“No man….I’m over it.” He replied meekly and then, in the true fashion of the era added. “Make love not war dude.”

Well, his attitude ticked me off and I told him so. After all, the only reason I had been pummeled was because I was trying to help HIM!

“Damn Tank….you got popped once and went down like a rag doll! They kicked my ass for half the fucking day!” I shouted.

“Well….that ain’t me dude. I ain’t no fighter.” He said then got up and walked away.

Well hell….I didn’t plan on actually fighting all of the rednecks! I just wanted a measure of revenge! Where was his indignation? Where was his pride? Where were his balls?

Give peace a chance my ASS!

Side Note:

This is one of those times when I wish I would have had access to an ‘undo’ button on my life but…..

No such luck.

I spent the rest of the day, dreaming up some form of revenge and yes….drinking. I had to be careful of course because there were four of them, one of me and they HAD kicked my ass once already that day.

I needed a plan.

I decided to go check out the house where the rednecks were staying. Unfortunately, they were not out bar hopping. They were at home with a dozen or so of their closest friends.

The house was one of those typical semi dilapidated sun bleached row houses that were so familiar in any beach town in those days. Still are I suppose. Due to the lack of air conditioning in the old house, the doors and windows were wide open and it was obvious there was a party going on. I sat on my old Honda motorcycle across the street from the house watching and brooding when suddenly, I saw the redheaded guy come walking out the front door and head toward a car in the sand driveway.

Without even thinking about it, I hopped off my bike and ran toward the guy. I reached him in a few seconds and slammed him into the side of the old car. He had seen me coming at the last second but wasn’t able to put up much of a defense before I had rammed him into the car and punched him in the mouth a couple of times. To his credit, he didn’t go down and was fighting valiantly until I dropped him with a hard left.

Just as I was enjoying myself, the lights dimmed as though a movie was starting and suddenly I was on the ground looking up at about a hundred people. Okay, it was only a dozen or two but most of them were either kicking my ass or actively suggesting that it be done.

Sometime during the melee, I remember that a really fat black haired woman kept kicking me in the ribs while I was being held down. She was screaming like a maniac.

“He’s my old man motherfucker!!” She screamed over and over again as she tried to cave in my rib cage.

Once again….I was saved by onlookers. This time from the adjoining houses who had come out of their homes and figured that my ass had been sufficiently thrashed enough for one night.

I lay there in the sand for the second time that day and tried to survey the damage.

Somehow, I was alive and somewhat coherent but it was quite obvious that a few ribs were bruised/cracked/broken and that my left wrist was definitely broken. The odd angle at which my hand pointed back at me was a dead giveaway. I remember thinking that I’d never be able to ride my bike back home.

As I recovered a bit, an old man came over and offered to call an ambulance for me. I declined and told him I’d walk to the hospital which was only a few blocks away.

“Boy….I don’t think you gotta few blocks left in you.” He chuckled. “Hell….I drive you.”

I mumbled my thanks and staggered over to retrieve the key from my bike.

Within minutes, I was in the near deserted emergency room having my wrist set, receiving a few stitches and being cleaned up. Mercifully, they shot me full of something and laid my weary ass in a hospital bed for the night.

When I woke up the next morning, I was discharged and went straight to my house and crashed for another day.

Sometime during that time, I hatched a plan.

I had a buddy of mine drive me to get my bike. He rode my bike and I took his car back to my house but not before noticing that the rednecks were still there. I saw the same cars so, I knew I’d be coming back to visit.

Give peace a chance?

No friggin' way!

Later that day, I decided to enlist a friend of mine in my little plan.

Steve Dorsett was at home and partying hearty that afternoon when I arrived unannounced. Steve was a bona fide NUT and was known to be up for anything that offered excitement.

As I walked into his house, I was greeted by the smell of pot smoke and the sound of CCR cranking out of the stereo. In the corner of the living room, I saw Steve kneeling on the floor snorting coke off of a cheap coffee table. He waved me over and of course, I indulged as well. After snorting a couple of long lines, I sat on the floor and waited for the rush.

Steve grinned at me.

“Damn dude…what happened to your arm? Your face?” He laughed as he looked me over. “Shit…what happened to all of you?”

“Four rednecks did a tap dance on me down at Ocean Drive the other day….TWICE!”

As we sat there and experienced the rush, I related the events of my rather shitty day. As the rush intensified, so did our youthful testosterone and before long, I had Steve and myself ready to go to war! Did I mention that Steve was a NUT?

“Let’s go waste those mother fuckers!” He snarled.

I laughed.

“Naw man….we can’t KILL the bastards but we CAN get even.”

I laid out the plan of retribution I had been mulling around in my beady little brain.

Unfortunately for me AND Steve…..ole Steve was completely gung ho about the whole plan.

Within minutes, we had recruited two other guys. One of them (I’m not making this up) was nicknamed ‘Pistol Pete’…not because he was a great basketball player ala Pete Maravich but because he LOVED pistols and owned a bunch of them!

The other guy was a really large lifeguard who answered to the rather unusual name of Grunt. I didn’t know Grunt very well but I do know that his name was well earned. He rarely spoke and what did come out of his mouth was more of a grunt than an actual language. Some said that he was a former Marine who had seen too much combat in Vietnam but I tend to think his nickname was more a product of his oratorical skills…or lack thereof. Hell, maybe it was a bit of both but he was a scary lookin’ dude no matter how the name originated.

Is it just me or are you getting a bad feeling about where this whole yarn is heading?

Boy….I wish I’d have had a bad feeling back then but damn it!

It was such a great idea at the time.

Okay….it's time to let ya’ll in on what I figured at the time to be a brilliant plan. After all, three other dope smoking, coke snortin’, beer drinkin’ manly men with a couple of hundred active brain cells between ‘em were absolutely SOLD on the strategy so….it should have gone off without a glitch right?

Right??

Here's the deal.....

We were gonna drive over to the redneck house in Grunt’s old Buick land yacht. If the party was still going on, we were simply going to walk through the front door. Once inside, we were going to kick the shit out of the rednecks in their own damned house. Pete was carrying a large handgun just in case the odds were against us so, we were gleefully anticipating a good time.

Needless to say, things didn’t go exactly the way we had planned.

Dear Lord did things go wrong that fateful night.

Before it was over, we were facing seven counts of armed robbery, six counts of assault with intent to kill, several counts of stuff I’d never heard of and a partridge in a friggin’ pear tree as I recall.

Not a great night in my life!

To Be Continued ASAP!

Memories...

2007-11-12T00:47:00.000-05:00
I was visiting Mick's blog today and was reminded of some of my experiences around the time that I was ordered to voluntarily join the United States Navy. I honestly had no choice in the matter. My options were few…join the military or go to a very serious penal institution for six years.

I know….you’ve heard that tale a hundred times so it must be a load of B.S. but….it’s true. Back then….and even nowadays…it happens quite often. Judges want to give a dumbassed kid a break so…..they offer the military option. I’m glad I took it. I was far too young and cute to go to prison!!

Not saying I enjoyed the Navy but I’m damned sure I wouldn’t have been pleased with prison!

Mick has a much better memory than I do. He reminded me of so many details of boot camp in Orlando that I had long since forgotten. He was there a couple of years before me but, it was basically the same when I went through.

His writings reminded me of a few escapades that were incredibly etched into my limited gray matter during those days.

What a strange ride it was.

The year was 1972 and I promise that you have never known a more lovable dumb ass than I was in those days of yore! I really was a nice kid. All I wanted to do was play music, make love to as many young ladies as possible, work little, play hard, smoke pot and basically……enjoy life. Yes, I worked few odd jobs but mainly, I was a hippy.

Thankfully, I was a reasonably good looking dude and could play guitar a bit and sing pretty well so…in the hippy hierarchy…I was a ‘happenin’ dude’! Kind of like a small time Charles Manson without all that mass murder messiness.

People had a way of looking up to guys like me as though the ability to make music and write songs which made no sense was something to be revered. It was a simpler time.

Think about it…..

I could sit on a sand dune in front of a crowd of dope smoking kids staring into fire and sing a heartfelt rendition of ‘Horse With No Name’ and at the end of the tune, they would look upon me as if I had delivered the gospel straight to their collective hearts!! It was as though, I had somehow imparted a great wisdom on them. Of course....the scary part is that I actually believed that I HAD!!

Does ANYONE know what the hell that song actually MEANS?

Dewey Bunnell wrote the damned song and even HE can’t explain it!!

However….I digress.

Back then, in the days of barely portable record players and eight track tape players who’s batteries barely made it through half of the latest Eagles album….a singer/guitar player was held in high esteem when the weed was burning out on the beach! Guys like me were kind of like a flesh and blood radio back then. I guess we were, in a sense, the last of the true traveling troubadours.

I realize that it sounds kind of romantic to remember it in those terms but really…(Mick knows what I’m talking about)…we really were pretty well esteemed back then.

Shortly after we ‘did our thing’, music got extremely portable. Until that time….only a real life, flesh and blood, dope smoking, beer swilling, cocaine snortin’ musician could play ALL NIGHT LONG and entertain people on a beat up six string guitar in the middle of nowhere!

Nowadays however…..an IPOD can play every song by every artist in the entire world for a week on a battery the size of that annoying little liver spot on my ancient looking right hand!

Where the HELL was I when I got old?

DAMN....I'm digressing again!

Anyway.....

Back then, I simply lived to party.

At the time, I was living in an old rooming house in Myrtle Beach. I vaguely remember the place being called ‘Mom’s House’ but, don’t quote me on that. I remember the place being drafty, moldy and hot as the gates of HELL! No AC and who the hell could afford a fan? Hell, if I had brought a fan into the place, the old woman who owned the place would’ve raised the rent to twenty bucks a week! No such extravagance for me.

I had been ‘drifting’ for quite sometime and had only recently stopped in Myrtle Beach although, as a Charleston boy, I was no stranger to the Grand Strand.

This summer, I was playing with a band whose name escapes my fragile memory but…we were pretty good and we were working pretty much all night…every night.

Myrtle Beach was wide open during those halcyon days of yore. It may have seemed to have been a lawless time to the casual observer at the time.

After all.....people were making love on the beach with reckless abandon. Dope was smoked, snorted and popped in public. Public drunkenness was a way of life to be celebrated and almost ANYTHING was condoned. However.... much to my chagrin….there WERE laws and unfortunately….the police occasionally enforced them.

DAMN IT!!

My brush with the law came on a beautiful Sunday afternoon in August.

To Be Continued......

An Observation About My Life

2007-11-06T00:17:00.000-05:00
You know….it’s really strange how many really WEIRD things have happened in my life. Some of them just sort of happened and quite frankly, some of them were strictly self inflicted and brought about by nothing more than my own stupidity coupled with the belief that I was the single most important person in the world.

I never consciously thought that I was the most important person in the world but I sure acted as though I was.

I don’t feel that way anymore.

The truth is that nowadays, I’m acutely aware that while I’m a pretty decent person….I’m not all that special after all.

Have you ever really stopped and ask yourself this question?

“What have I done in my life that is worth GOD having allowed me to live?”

That question occurred to me a while back and has haunted me ever since.

The truth is almost overwhelming.

I have done almost NOTHING.

In the grand scheme of things, I really haven’t done many really GOOD things. I’ve done a bunch of “fun” things, some strange things, a ton of hedonistic things, a boatload of interesting things, and a smattering of illegal things but….

What have I, hell…what have ANY of us done to earn the right to live in this incredible world GOD has allowed us to inhabit?

For those of you poor, misguided creatures who don’t believe in GOD….I’ll rephrase that.

What have we done to earn the right to live in this incredible world that just happened to be here due to a cosmic collision of space dust?

The point is this…..

Don’t we owe something to somebody for the right to be here?

Don’t get me wrong….I've done a few minor things…….

I once led the state of North Carolina in punting with a 44.3 yard average.

I kicked sixteen straight field goals in high school, one of them from 54 yards out.

I’ve played music in front of many thousands of people.

I’ve written a few songs people still remember.

I have made a few people laugh.

I’ve made more than a few people cry and I’ve made a few people hate me.

Been married unsuccessfully twice.

Been married successfully once.

I guess my point is that I can’t point to one single thing that I’ve done that make God look at me and say….

“Well done my good and faithful servant.”

I’m gonna do something about that and…I’m gonna do it SOON!

Yep….you could say that I’m on a mission from God! LOL.

Seriously though, I’m going to find some way to do something that I can be proud of.

It’s not gonna be anything stupid like flying a kite for peace or huggin’ a freakin’ tree or fighting non existent man made global warming or rescuing a beached whale either…it’s gonna be something really cool and, hopefully, meaningful.

I’ve thought about finding a family who needs some money (not that I have much to give) or some old person who needs help. Michelle thinks I ought to go to a nursing home and play music for old people but I don’t think old folks want to hear some old fat dude play Skynard or Travis Tritt!

Hmmm….I’m gonna have to think long and hard about this.

I’ve been blessed beyond all belief for someone who’s done nothing to deserve it.

I’m gonna DO SOMETHING!

Thanks To All Of You

2007-10-09T11:24:00.000-05:00
First let me thank all of you have stopped by and left such kind words. My friend Jean directed quite a few of you here and for that as well as her kindness, I thank her too.

All of your prayers are much appreciated.

Michelle is really doing well so far after her latest chemo treatment. Other than a couple of 'blah' down days, she's back to her normal, effervescent self and back to worrying the hell out of me!

The other day, she backed the Suburban into a telephone pole at the grocery store. She has a tough time looking backward in the car due to her neck pain which is due the multiple tumors in her spine but luckily, she didn't hurt herself in the smash up. She cried about the damage to the car but I told her not to worry about it. Hell, that's what insurance is for right?

This weekend, my little Lumber Jill took the bad assed Weed Eater up into the woods behind and above the house and once again began clearing out brush and small trees with a metal blade. She's been doing so for the past month because she wants to be able to see the deer, foxes and bears better from our kitchen window. Anyway....apparently, a limb knocked her glasses off and she's spent the past couple of days combing the underbrush trying to find them! I helped for a while but told her it's useless but of course, she's stubbornly still searching! As we speak, she and my sister in law are up there.....still searching.

She cried again...this time about the glasses!

She's amazing! Never once has she shed a tear over the cancer but a fender bender and a lost pair of glasses and she cries.....go figure.

Sure do love my little woman.

Thanks again for dropping by and I'll be back soon with another of my tale of a misspent youth.

I Hope Ya'll Are Doing Well

2007-09-26T22:46:00.000-05:00
It's been a long couple of days.

Michelle and I went to see her Oncologist yesterday and learned that the tumor in her liver has increased in size from six months ago by ten to fifteen per cent. As always, Michelle took the news like the champion she has always been throughout this ordeal. I don't know how, but this time, I managed to hide my emotions upon hearing the news. I've never been one to fear much of anything but I swear this cancer beast chills me to the marrow sometimes.

I know it sounds trite but honestly, I don't know what I would do without my precious wife.

Dr. Davis told her that while the increase wasn't extremely alarming, he felt that it was best to start attacking the problem immediatly. He told us that he wanted her to begin in new round of chemo in two weeks. Totally in character, Michelle laughed and said, "Well, at least I won't have to shave my legs for awhile again!"

She is friggin' amazing!

I don't know what I did to deserve such a wonderful woman but I am truly blessed. The thought of losing her EVER is overwhelming sometimes but the strength that she displays every day is like a salve for my soul. She is simply amazing.

We made our phone calls to family and friends who were anxiously awaiting news of the doctor's visit and without exception, Michelle comforted EVERYONE! She told them that, "There ain't nothing that GOD can't fix!".

Have I mentioned that she's amazing?

Oh yeah......

Guess what she did today?

She took the weed eater up into the woods behind our house and hacked down about an acre of brush and small trees and talked to God the entire time.

She came in from the woods looking like a miniature lumber jack, ran up and kissed me and asked me if I was okay.

"You know something big boy?" She laughed. "I love you too much to go anywhere so you stop worrying about me!"

Amazing.

I'll talk to ya'll again real soon.

Never Say...."Go Ahead And Shoot!" Part IV

2007-08-27T22:22:00.000-05:00
When we left our story, Gene was pointing the shotgun at the front door and screaming at the top of his lungs that he ‘ought to blow my brains out!’

Needless to say….I was flummoxed as to why he would want to kill me.

I saw him stand up from the couch and start towards the door…shotgun in hand. He raised the shotgun to his eye.

“I just bought that fuckin’ door asshole!” He roared. “That’s the only reason I don’t shoot your ass!”

As I hugged the side of the porch trying to make myself invisible, I tried to reason with him.

“Gene….why the hell are you mad at me?” I asked. “I’m just trying to keep you from doing something stupid!”

I quickly peeked in the front window and saw him go back to couch and sit down while still holding the shotgun which I now saw clearly. It was a 4/10 shotgun…..thankfully. Although deadly, it wasn’t a twelve gauge!

Maybe we would live through this thing after all!

I figured that if he were truly serious about killing himself or ME…he would be wielding a nine millimeter pistol or a sixteen gauge pump shotgun (both of which he owned).

About that time, two police cars came flying into the driveway!

Oh yeah…the plot definitely thickened quickly.

Before the cops exited their cars, Marion did.

She had ridden along with them and as they came to a complete stop, she vaulted out of the lead car and ran across the yard toward me.

“What’s he doing?” She demanded.

I watched as she joined me on the porch. The cops took up positions behind their open doors with riot guns trained at the house.

Within seconds, three more police vehicles roared into the driveway and six more cops joined the scene.

I yelled at them.

“Hey….ya’ll just relax….the poor guy is just having a bad day. Just relax!!” I pleaded.

One of the cops yelled at me.

“Sir…..you and the young lady need to walk toward me with your hands in the air!”

Before I could move, Gene fired a blast through the front window not two feet from my head.

“Nobody moves ANYWHERE until I say so!” He shouted.

Now….call me presumptuous but I figured that with that shotgun blast, we had gone from a simple ‘depressed junkie with a gun’ situation into a serious, ‘Oh shit…somebody fired a shot” type of deal!

I was right!

Suddenly, several guns fired even though I had no idea what the hell they were shooting at! Gene was hunkered down in the living room and Marion and I were standing just feet away from the living room window which was suddenly shattered by multiple bullets.

I remember shouting at the cops.

“Stop shooting!”

Hey….I realize that I didn’t scream anything particularly brilliant but it's the best I could come up with on short notice!

They did however stop firing into the house.

Seconds after the shooting stopped, Gene spoke up.

“Ron….you motherfucker! You called the cops on me!” He screamed.

Marion, being the moron that she was, added her voice to the fray.

“I called the cops you big ASSHOLE!” She hollered. “You’re out of your damned mind!”

I grabbed Marion and pushed her roughly off of the porch. She landed in the flower bed three feet below and screamed at me as though she had taken a plunge of the Golden Gate Bridge!

“You ASSHOLE!”

“Marion….get out of here!” I shouted. “Gene, put the gun down and let me come inside.” I shouted.

One of the cops shouted at me through a microphone.

“Don’t move Ron….we’ll get him out of there.”

I walked to the door and opened the storm door.

I knocked on the wooden front door.

I could see through one of the small windows in the door that Gene had come within a few feet of the front door.

“Ron…you better get the hell out of here or I’m gonna kill you!” He screamed,

“Gene…what the hell are you pissed at me about?” I asked.

A moment passed as I stood there looking at him.

“Get off my fuckin’ porch or I’m gonna blow you away Ron!” He screamed.

Well hell…..I couldn’t think of anything else to say and I was REALLY tired of playing his dumb assed game so……..I shouted at him at the top of my lungs.

Yeah…you guessed it……..

I said those magic words that I’ll NEVER forget!

Every time I get an x-ray, MRI, or go through a metal detector, I remember those fateful words.

Yep………

I stood in front of the doors with my shoulders pulled back like Superman and defiantly posed not ten feet from a maniac with a shotgun.

You’re right….everyone of you out there reading this….

I was a grade ‘A’ dumb ass.

“Go ahead and SHOOT you fuckin’ idiot!” I shouted. “I’m tired of all this bullshit!”

Bad Move!!

No sooner had I uttered those words than the door exploded and I found myself propelled off the porch. I swear I can remember being in mid air and wondering if I was going to live.

I hit the ground like a two hundred pound sack of stupid on my back as all the air left my lungs.

Rolling around on the ground in agony, I realized that gunfire had erupted from the cop cars again and somehow managed to get to my knees and saw what was happening.

The cops were shooting but Gene was hiding inside the house. He didn’t fire again.

Finally, I got to my feet and realized that I wasn’t dead nor was I seriously hurt.

I kept screaming at the cops to stop shooting until finally, they did just that.

After the gunfire subsided, Gene could be heard whimpering inside the house.

“Oh dear God!” He cried. “I didn’t mean to kill him!”

He repeated this several times until Marion chimed in.

“So why the fuck did you shoot him?!!!” She shouted.

Nobody said anything until Marion spoke up.

“By the way…..you MISSED HIM!!” She said sarcastically.

“What?” Gene asked.

I checked myself out and saw blood EVERYWHERE!

“Gene….just so you know……you didn’t miss me…I think I’m bleeding to death!!!”

Cops were shouting at me to get down but I walked back up the steps to the front door.

Side Note here…..

I know of at least ONE of ya’ll will claim that I’m making this shit up. (You know who you are)

HOWEVER….

The truth is that I could see a dozen or so holes in the front door. All but one of the holes were entry holes from the policemen. Gene’s shot was the lone exit hole and was the size of half dollar.

As I approached the door, I reared back and directed my right foot at the panel closest to the doorknob in the six panel door. My foot went through the panel as though there was nothing but air in my way!

I was suddenly aware that not only had the door not actually flown open under my assault but my leg was trapped in the shattered wood and Gene was once again preparing to shoot me!

Sure enough…….his shotgun fired again!

I was, once again, flung backwards as though someone had well…..as though someone had shot me with a friggin’ shotgun!

I hit the porch flat on my back and the air was suddenly filled with gunshots again.

After a few seconds…everything got quite again.

Suddenly, everyone heard a stern, extremely authoritative voice rang out in the night.

“Gene!! Open the door and come out of there!!” His mother shouted. “This has gone on long enough. Come out now!” She demanded.

There was a long silence. Maybe a couple of minutes. Then Gene spoke again.

“Okay….I’m coming out.” Was all he said.

Sure enough, a few seconds later, he opened the battered door and walked onto the front porch where he saw me lying there bleeding like a stuck pig.

Without saying a word, he lunged toward me.

Falling onto one knee, he reached for my neck and I nailed him with a quick right hand to the side of his face.

He fell flat on his face on the porch, half lying on top of me then I heard him shouting.

“I’m sorry man, I’m sorry……I thought I’d killed you. You’re bleeding bad!” He screamed.

Cops rushed the porch and there were a dozen pistols trained on him within seconds.

The cops grabbed Gene and cuffed him until all of a sudden, he apparently had a seizure.

He convulsed for what seemed like an eternity while EMS personel worked on both of us.

Within minutes, I found myself in the same ambulance with Gene and we took the long trip to the hospital.

During those fifteen minutes or so, Gene recovered from his drug induced seizure and explained to me that he thought that Marion and I were having a fling behind his back and that he had been strung out on THC for a long while AND that he was sorry for having shot me….TWICE!

To make a long story short…BELIEVE IT OR NOT….I didn’t press charges against Gene although the cops did.
Although we never spoke again, we parted friends….well….friendly.

Anyway, the moral of this story is simple…

Never EVER say…

“Go ahead and SHOOT!!”

It probably won’t end well.

P.S.

I recovered quickly from my wounds. They removed some shotgun pellets but a bunch of them still reside in this old body including one that is nestled in very close proximity to my spinal cord in the neck area.

NO SHIT!!

What can I say?

I’m blessed.

Oh yeah...I never saw Gene OR Marion again.

Thank The Lord!

I hope to see ya’ll again soon.

Never Say...."Go Ahead And Shoot!" Part III

2007-08-24T22:48:00.000-05:00
When we left our tale, Marion had just informed me that she had handcuffed poor old Gene to the water heater in the basement of their ancient house.

Needless to say, I was a bit concerned about Gene’s condition so Steve, Marion and I drove over to check on him.

I’m not going to go into minute detail here because quite frankly….I really don’t want to think about it much.

Suffice it to say that he was wide awake, laying as they say…in his own squalor….(how’s that for gilding the Lilly?) and totally pissed off!

Long story short……..we emancipated him and hung around long enough to insure that he wasn’t going to kill her (which, quite frankly I would have done) and then got the hell out of there.

I’ll never forget how on the drive back to the bar, Steve looked at me and laughed.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about those two.”

“You ain’t just whistling Dixie big boy!” I agreed. “I warned him about that girl.”

Well…believe it or not….Gene and Marion made up and things went back to what passed for ‘normal’ for them for a while.

The calm didn’t last long.

The next episode of the Gene and Marion Freak Show took place about a month later.

At the time, the band I was with had come to an agreement with an ancient old farmer in the next county to rent a ramshackled old house on his property. Our ‘rent’ was that one of us had to cut his grass every three weeks in the summer. The house had been deserted for decades but was located beside a beautiful mountain stream which had deep pools which were great for swimming, wading, making love on rocks warmed by the summer sun and well….all sorts of stuff.

Man…what memories!

ANYWAY….we used this old place as a party shack and rehearsal house. We had a bunch of great times out at that old place, playing music, cooking pigs, drinking beer.....yeah…you get the picture.

Believe it or not, we actually bought a roll of wire and illegally tapped into a power pole three hundred feet away from the house! We drove sixteen penny nails into the two dead ended leads on the pole and used clamps to attach our ‘extension cord’!

It’s a damned wonder we didn’t get killed! I get chills just thinking about it now.

However I digress……..

A bunch of us decided to have a big blow out at ‘The Shack’ one weekend. There must have close to seventy people hanging out that weekend and we were all having a ball.

At some point on Saturday however, Gene decided that he was extremely pissed off at his car, an Audi Fox which kept dying on him when he least expected it. He came over to a group of us guys and asked if we wanted to help him ‘kill’ his car.

Now the truth of the matter is that we were all a bit trashed from partying our collective asses off all night and, quite frankly…we were young, inebriated and stupid so……

We all agreed to help him kill his damned car!

Over the next few hours, we proceeded to murder his vehicle.

We took turns repeatedly running it into trees, spinning around in circles and at one point, my old friend Art Fowler drenched it in gas siphoned from the gas tank and drove it off a twenty foot cliff after which he swam to safety while several dozen drunken onlookers shouted their approval.

Yeah…..there was alcohol involved.

Well, one day, a few weeks later, a couple of cops showed up at my apartment. One of them was a good looking large breasted woman named Sharon M. (I later found out that her apparently large rack was actually inhanced by a specially designed female bullet proof vest!)

A WHOLE other story there about me and the female cop!

Remind me to tell ya’ll about the time she had to actually arrest me when we when were, shall we say….romantically involved!

True story.

ANYWAY……..

I was asked to accompany the two officers back to the station to explain my involvement in an ‘Arson of a vehicle’.

Well damn!

Turns out that ole Gene didn’t actually OWN the friggin’ car!

The finance company owned the damned car and Gene still owed a bunch of money on it!

Needless to say, I was quite surprised to find that deliberately trashing a vehicle that was owned by a finance company was a pretty serious ‘NO NO’ in the eyes of the law enforcement community!

Man….I was in a world of shit!

Before I knew it, I was being accused of being the ring leader of the entire deal. To be honest, I HAD told Gene about the time that I had destroyed my old Pontiac Ventura after I had bought a new car. But DAMN!

That old car was totally paid for…it was MINE!

Yeah, I did actually throw a party where a bunch of us young morons DID take turns running that old clunker into tree and YES we did consummate the affair by setting it on fire in the woods behind my house but dammit…..

IT WAS TOTALLY PAID FOR!

IT WAS MY CAR!

Apparently, Gene was so whacked out that he didn’t understand the difference so, he set a bunch of young idiots loose to trash a car he didn’t actually OWN and….of course….the cops wanted to put ALL of us in jail!

Thankfully, that didn’t happen.

After spending the night in jail, Marion bailed me out.

Yep…..Marion.

Gene was still in jail but the cops realized that we had been duped into destroying Gene’s car and that he alone was guilty of any REAL crime.

To make a long story short……..Gene’s parents bailed him out after a couple of days.

I was tending bar a few nights later and Marion came in. She was obviously upset. She had been crying and sat at the bar throwing back shot after shot of Vodka until she finally began to speak.

“I left that dumb sonofabitch sitting on the couch with a shotgun in his mouth!” She snarled. “I hope he pulls the trigger!”

In one of those, “I wish I hadn’t heard that moments”, I asked her to repeat what she had just said.

She looked at me with a weird grin.

“I think he’s getting’ ready to blow his fuckin’ brains out.” She said.

I looked at Steve who was sitting at the bar and he shook his head.

“I ain’t getting’ involved this time.” He growled. “Why the fuck didn’t I buy a fuckin’ 7-11? I had to buy a gotdamned BAR!”

I laughed and told him that he needed to cover the bar while I went to check on Gene.

He ignored me and asked an old regular Grant B. to watch the place for a bit.

Steve looked at me and grinned.

“Who the hell am I foolin’?” He laughed. “I ain’t gonna miss this shit!”

Steve and I jumped in his car and headed over to Gene’s house. When we pulled up, everything seemed to be in order.

I got out of the car and walked up the front steps to the porch.

As stood there and decided what to do, I remember looking through the front window and saw Gene sitting on the couch watching TV.

He held a shotgun across his knees.

I knocked on the door.

Still watching Gene through front window, I saw him snatch the shotgun and point it toward the door.

I knocked again.

“WHAT?” Came the response from inside.

“Hey Gene! It’s Ron!” I shouted nervously. “What’s goin’ on?” I asked.

As I looked through one of the small windows in the front door, I saw Gene level the shotgun at the door.

“You better get the fuck out of here Ron……I oughta blow your fuckin’ brains out!!!” He screamed.

Well…….needless to say….

I was puzzled…

What the hell had I done to piss him off?

To Be Continued…………..

What A GREAT Weekend!!

2007-08-21T21:19:00.000-05:00
I WILL finish the latest tale but…..I had to tell ya’ll….I had a freakin’ GREAT weekend!

After seven or eight years of talkin’ about it, my old buddy Dale M from Columbia came up for a visit. Dale is, without a doubt, the nicest guy I’ve ever met in the music business. We played together for quite a while back in the day and had an absolute blast doing it.

One night when I was playing at Carl’s Corner in West Columbia, Dale came in and listened to Tony and I for a couple of sets. When we took our second break, Dale came up to me and introduced himself. He told me that he really liked my music. I will always remember what was said next.

That night, years ago, Dale mentioned that he liked the music I was playing, especially my original songs. Well, being the ‘team player’ that I’ve always tried to be….I mentioned that Tony was a big part of the whole deal.

I will NEVER forget how Dale handled my comment.

His face froze into a sly grin and he hung his head for a second. After a second or two, he looked back up at me.

“Well…..let’s just say that I think you would sound better with somebody who could actually sing harmony.” He stated with a chuckle. “Not to mention the fact that you’re singing lead in most of the songs….you need a partner that can carry his own load.”

I didn’t really know what to say but honestly…..I couldn’t disagree with him. Tony was a friend of mine but…between the cocaine problems, his lack of responsibility and his unwillingness to actually REHEARSE and/or learn anything new….I was ready to go in a different direction musically.

“So…..what kind of stuff do you play?” I asked.

He laughed and grinned at me.

“You ain’t gonna believe this but, I’ve never played much before in public.” He told me. “But…..I’m better than HIM.” He pointed in Tony’s direction.

To this day…..that’s the last time I ever heard Dale speak ill of anyone! He’s such a laid back guy that if he witnessed a brutal murder, he’s probably say something like….

“Well…the guy with the AK-47 probably shouldn’t have shot the boy so many times but you know…..that boy might have deserved it. I just don’t know.”

Dale and I got together and jammed a couple of times after which, he and I started playing together and Tony went back to Charlotte. Tony and I are still friends but, at the time, he was devasted. To this day, he HATES Dale but….the truth is….

Dale is one of the true ‘Good Guys’.

Anyway…we had a ball over the weekend.

I’m still recovering from the late night picking and grinning sessions. I haven’t laughed so hard in quite a while.

Well, I’ll finish the tale tomorrow I hope.

See ya’ll then.

Never Say...."Go Ahead And Shoot!" Part Two

2007-08-13T22:11:00.000-05:00
Well, believe it or not, Gene did exactly what he told Steve he would do. He had the bar back in shape the next day. Of course, he had plenty of help because Steve, Randy S., Ronnie B. and myself showed up to help him. Of course, Marion was nowhere to be found but as far as anyone knew…she hadn’t been locked up after the ‘incident’.

Gene was as morbid as an undertaker as we labored to put the place back together. He thanked everyone for helping out but aside from that, he may as well not have been there. Oh, he worked liked hell but he didn’t say much.

Around noon, Valerie (Steve’s ‘sorta-kinda’ girlfriend) showed up with a bunch of fried chicken so, we took a break, ate lunch and drank beer.

Making a lame attempt at conversation, I asked Gene how he was doing.

He gave me a weak grin.

“Ron….what if I don’t see her again?” He asked.

I couldn’t believe my ears.

“I know what you said last night Gene and I’m not tryin’ to yank your chain here but you ain’t lucky enough to never see Marion again.” I laughed. “She’ll show up again real soon.”

He totally ignored the first part of my comment. His face lit up like a little kid opening a birthday present.

“You think so?” He asked excitedly.

I looked at him but kept my mouth shut.

Immediately, he perked up and I swear…for the rest of the day, he was the same old Gene. Crackin’ jokes, talking trash and working hard.

I left the merry little band of handymen around five o’clock after telling them that I had to get ready to play that night. Of course, I caught hell for bailing out but….I left anyway.

Ten minutes later, I pulled into my driveway and who should be waiting for me?

You guessed it.

MARION.

She came out of her car and headed straight toward me before I could even kill the ignition. She stood beside the car and stared at me as I rolled up the window and opened the door.

“Hello Marion…..what the hell are you doing here?” I asked.

“I want to talk to you.” She said sweetly. “About last night.”

I walked to the house with Marion following. As I got to the door, I turned and asked her to leave me alone.

Of course, it went in one ear and out the other. She followed me inside as I opened the door.

I spun around to face her.

“Marion, I’ve spent the whole day helping Gene and the boys rebuild the front of Steve’s place.” I began. “I’m hot, tired, thirsty AND I’m in a hurry so go the hell home and be glad you aren’t in jail.”

She laughed.

“I knew Stevie wouldn’t be mad at me for that little accident.” She purred.

“Girl….you’re a moron. If it weren’t for Gene promising to fix the damage, Steve would have called the cops last night.” I informed her.

“Well bless ole Gene’s heart. What a nice fellow he is.” She grinned. “I think Gene wants to get in my tight little jeans.”

She cackled as though she had said something really clever.

“Well…that’s between you and Gene now…I’ve gotta get busy so let yourself out.” I said as I headed towards the bathroom.

“I said I wanted to talk to you!” She demanded.

“Okay…..so talk but please…..make it quick!” I snapped.

“I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry about all those things I said and for smashin’ up your car.” She smiled like a little angel. “I really am.”

I started to say something argumentative but, knowing Marion, it would do no good.

“Okay….apology accepted now…will you get out of here so I can get ready?”

She smiled again.

“Aren’t we going to the club together?” She asked.

“No Marion….we ain’t going to the club together.” I laughed.

“So you’re still mad at me?”

“No, I’m not mad at you but I don’t want to put up with anymore of your crazy shit. You really need to get some help Marion.” I was trying to be helpful. Really….I WAS. She was a friggin’ nut but basically, she was a good person.

Well hell! I may as well have called her Mama a whore or something.

“Fuck YOU asshole!” She screamed and headed for the door. Just as she jerked the door open, she spun around and screamed again.

“I HATE YOUR GUTS!!”

With that, she left the house and shortly thereafter I heard her car roar out of the driveway.

I laughed and locked the front door before going to get ready to play that night.

Later that night, I was standing outside of the honky tonk where I was playing talking with a friend of mine when I saw Gene’s car pull into the parking lot. I watched as he parked, exited the car and raced around to open the passenger door. I could only groan when I saw Marion emerge from the car like some Hollywood celebrity who’d come slumming.

She was decked out in tight fitting white jeans, a black tube top and a white jacket with silver stuff all over. Of course, she wore her obligatory stiletto heels.

Did I mention that she was HOT?

Hey….give me a break! This WAS the late seventies after all! Her attire may have been a bit gaudy but DAMN that woman was good lookin’!

I almost panicked as Gene and Marion came strolling toward me. As they approached me, Gene broke into a huge grin that was matched only by Marion’s.

“What’s up my friend?” He howled and reached for my hand.

I shook hands with him and Marion gave me a quick hug and a peck on the cheek.

What the hell?

Well, to make a long story short…..everything went absolutely well from there on.

Hell, Marion even cornered me later that night and apologized AGAIN for her strange behavior and informed me that she wasn’t mad at me anymore and that she only hoped that we would remain friends!

Needless to say, I was a bit leery but…..things actually went well from there.

During that time, I remember that Gene and Marion seemed extremely happy. So happy in fact, that she moved in to the old house that Gene had been renovating. They would come in the bar almost every afternoon and have a few drinks, always doting on each other and having a good time but they would always go home before nine o’clock or so. In short….they seemed to be a perfectly happy couple.

This went on for a few months and everything seemed to be going well.

Until strange things began happening.

Strange you ask?

Okay…how’s this for strange?

One afternoon, Marion came in the bar and had several drinks without saying much of anything to anyone. Gene was not with her.

After a while, I asked her where Gene was.

I’m not making this up folks….this is what happened next.

Marion looked at me with a sly grin.

“He’s in the basement.” She said.

I knew that Gene had a great little shop in his basement so…idiot me…I assumed that he was building cabinets, routing chair rails or some such stuff.

WRONG!

“So…what’s he up to?” I asked.

“Oh….nothin’ much right now.” She chuckled. “I chained his ass to the water heater.”

I thought I had misunderstood at first.

By the tone of her voice and actions, she may have well have said that he was curled up by the fire reading a good book!

“You WHAT?”

She cackled like a semi-drunk crow.

“I said I chained his ass to the GOTDAMN water heater!”

Several folks at the bar decided that this was a much better topic of conversation than what they had previously been engaged in.

Ronnie B., a regular who like nothing better than to involve himself in other people’s business spoke up.

“Did I hear you say that you chained Gene to the water heater?” He asked at the top of his lungs.

Marion looked at him and snarled.

“You heard me right fat boy!” She roared. “I might just go back home and shoot his ass!”

Knowing Marion’s tendency’s I thought that I might try and talk her down from her obviously dangerous mood.

“Damn girl…what did Gene do?”

She propped her arms up on the bar and stared at me.

“That sonofabitch has been strung out on THC for three days now and he’s getting’ MEAN!” She said dejectedly.

She really seemed bummed out….not crazy.

“How the hell did you get him chained up?” I asked. Hell, I really wanted to know how she had managed that.

She laughed for a second and then took a drink

She motioned me closer and leaned towards me.

“You’re gonna LOVE this shit Ron….I’m serious….this is too cool.” She giggled.

She wasn't immediately forthcoming so I prodded her.

“What?” I implored.

She laughed.

“Well….He’s been fucked up as hell for awhile now. He’s even taken leave from work and been stoned as a nine eyed monkey the whole time.” She began. “Last night, he went downstairs and started bitching about the water heater. It had been leaking and he claimed that it wasn’t level.”

She started laughing harder.

“Well, after hearing this for an hour or so, I went down with him and looked at the damned water heater. Hell, it WAS leaking but only a tiny bit but he was going on as if it was the fuckin’ Jonestown flood!” She said and took another drink.

I was laughing now and dying to hear the end of the tale.

“To make a long story short, before it was over, he was being totally weird about it and ran to get a level off of the work bench and sprawled out on the floor beside the water heater. Within seconds, he was trying to reach around the heater with the level when he screamed at me to help him. I didn’t know what to do so I just sat there for a second. After a bit, the sonofabitch started really goin’ nuts so…..I ran back upstairs.” She just shook her head.

I waited for her to compose her thoughts and finally she spoke again.

“When I got upstairs, I thought about calling the cops but damn it Ron….he needs HELP! He needs to get off of all that shit he’s been shooting!” She began sobbing.

Again…I gave her another minute or so before prodding her.

“Marion! What the hell did you do?”

She sat up straight and glared at me.

“I went back to the basement to try and talk with him but he was out cold.” She said. “The bastard passed out hugging the damn water heater!”

“Sooooo?” I cajoled.

“I got a pair of handcuffs…” She began but then shot me a mean look. “Don’t ask asshole!” She snarled.

“Anyway…..I got a pair of handcuffs and chained his drug addicted ass to the friggin’ water heater.” She said. “He’s been there since eleven last night.” She added as an afterthought.

Holy Shit!

The poor guy had been chained to a damned water heater in a hundred year old basement for more than eighteen hours?

Oh yeah....the plot thickens!

To Be Continued Soon..............

Never Say...."Go Ahead And Shoot!"

2007-08-06T22:52:00.000-05:00
Thanks to all of you who stopped by and commented on my last post the other day.

I know....I lied about posting again the next day but damn it...stuff happened again.

It's great to hear from ya'll again.

I was reminded of this story after seeing a ’67 Ford Ranchero yesterday.

This is a TRUE story!

This is the convoluted story of a strange love triangle that went ridiculously wrong and oh yeah…..

I GOT SHOT!!!

Let’s just call this little tale…..

Never Say...."Go Ahead And Shoot!"

The year is 1978 I think but then again……the years kinda run together in the old memory bank these days but it was somewhere around then.

I was playing in a southern rock band; tending bar at a place called The Rusty Nail, partying like a Viking and generally….having a blast.

I had been dating a girl named Marion for a short while but had recently broke up with her because, even though she was a babe….she was nuttier than a ten pound bag of squirrel shit!

She was simply impossible to deal with on a day to day basis so, we parted ways after only a few months of dating/half-way living together. We still “saw” each other occasionally but, it was, for the most part, just “buddy sex”.

I’m not lying here…this girl was NUTS….the woman firmly believed that she was one of, if not, THE most beautiful women on earth.

Don’t get me wrong…she WAS a damned fine looking woman but…..how arrogant can you get?

One of our biggest arguments took place after she made the ridiculous statement that she was more beautiful than Raquel Welch!

Just So Ya'll Know....

It has always been my considered opinion that God clearly decided to show off HIS incredible skills one day. On that particular day, I believe HE put aside all other tasks and created Raquel Welch.

Now don’t get me wrong….as an actress OR an intellect, Raquel Welch is the equivalent of a Special Olympics participant but DAMN…..that woman was absolutely, indescribably, without a doubt……homicidally GORGEOUS!

The point is that while Marion was truly beautiful.... she was no Raquel Welch and she WAS a bonafide maniac!

Oh yeah…she also HATED John Wayne!

I told you she was NUTS!

She once told me that John Wayne walked like a faggot and looked like a tired cow!

Friggin’ maniac she was.

However….I digress.

During this time, I had a good friend named Gene who was a Vietnam vet. He had been a highly decorated combat corpsman during the war and was now working at a local hospital. Gene was a big time doper but one hell of nice guy. I think ole Gene had a bunch of demons that he just couldn’t deal with without the help of drugs. Quite frankly, I didn’t have his kind of demons but I loved to get high almost as much as Gene but, of course, I didn’t shoot dope….Gene did.

My drugs of choice were pot, alcohol, hash, the occasional Qualude and of course, the ever present drug….cocaine.

Gene however, loved to shoot all kinds of dope. Coke, Heroin, THC, Demerol…you name it, Gene fired it up AND he did everything else I mentioned earlier. Odd as it may sound however, Gene seemed to handle it all.

He was, I thought, a medical marvel! He worked every single day that he was on call and did his job well. I’ve known some users in my time but Gene was one of the few who could function as a normal person while being a major league doper.

Of course, NOBODY can dance with the devil for long without paying the price but…for a long time; Gene was able to function pretty well.

Shortly after Marion and I broke up, Gene was sitting at the bar and I was bar tending one evening when Marion walked in.

Gene took one look at her and fell in love.

I’m not kidding…..he was just floored!

Marion sat down at the end of the bar and spoke to me.

“Hey Ron….let me get glass of wine.” She said with a sweet smile.

Gene looked at me.

“Put that on my tab dude.” He said quietly.

I nodded to him as I poured her wine and took it to her.

“The wine is on Gene.” I told her as I pointed him out.

She smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

Gene grinned.

“You’re very welcome ma’am, my name is Gene.” He responded.

She looked at him and then at me.

“Did he just call me “Ma’am”? she asked.

I laughed.

“Gene….don’t ever call me that again!” she said after leveling a vicious look in his direction. “I’m too young to be a gotdamned ma’am.”

Gene looked a bit taken aback but recovered nicely.

“You have my word Marion. It’ll never happen again. I apologize.” He laughed.

She smiled her lopsided lascivious and semi maniacal smile as she made a big show of heaving her rather substantial breasts in his direction.

“You are forgiven Gene.” She purred. “Thanks again for the wine.”

She then turned her attention to me.

God save me!

“Ron…..do you know this fella?” she asked nodding her head in Gene’s direction.

“Gene? Yeah I know him.” I answered. “He’s a good guy…..so, do him a favor and leave him alone.” I laughed.

She picked up her wine glass and walked over to where Gene was seated and sat down beside him.

I gave Gene a sharp look.

“Don’t do it son….she’s a fuckin’ NUT.” I said emphatically.

“And YOU’RE an ASSHOLE Ron!!” she hissed with a grin on her pretty face.

“Gene….listen to me carefully.” I said. “This is the girl who drove my car up the telephone pole.”

Gene was well aware of the story because he had loaned me his car while mine was in the shop.

Side Note:

One night, Marion had decided that I was paying too much attention to a girl in the audience while my band was playing. The absolute truth of the matter was that I WAS interested in the girl who kept coming up the stage and requesting songs. HOWEVER….I had done absolutely NOTHING for her to get crazy about but nonetheless, Marion went postal!

The girl in question walked out to the parking lot with some friends and unbeknownst to anyone, Marion followed her out and started an argument.

According to those who actually witnessed the scene, Marion and the other girl got into a fight which didn’t last long before it was broken up by the bars bouncer. He ordered everyone to leave and came to tell me what had happened.

As I was finishing a song, Anthony (the bouncer) rushed up to me.

“Boy….you’re crazy assed girlfriend started a brawl in the parking lot and I sent her crazy ass home!” He shouted. “Look at my fuckin’ arm!”

He held up his massive forearm and it was covered in bite marks.

I put my guitar in its stand and leaned down to him.

“Where is she now?” I asked.

“She’s sittin’ in your car.”

OH SHIT!!

I quickly told the audience that we were taking a short break. I jumped off the stage and hauled ass through the club. As I pushed through the front door, I was greeted by the throaty roar of my beloved ’67 Ford Ranchero being ‘red-lined’ in the parking lot.

My recently purchased BF Goodrich radial T/A tires were slinging gravel as Marion bore down on a group of people who were scattering like chickens in a hail storm.

Just as she neared the group, the pretty girl from the bar split away from the crowd and headed off to the left with my Ranchero in hot pursuit.

Before I could do anything, I saw my beautiful old Ranchero go vertical!

It was as if it did a wheelie!

Seconds later, it did a pirouette and, almost as if in slow motion…..flipped over onto its top!

I ran to the car and flopped into push-up position as I peered into the interior.

Marion was lying in a fetal position and motionless.

I reached in and dragged her out of the car.

By that time, a woman had come over and began checking Marion out. I suppose she was a doctor, nurse or midwife…hell, I didn’t know.

As I surveyed the scene I realized what had happened.

That damned crazy woman had run straight up one of those steel wires that support telephone poles!!

My car was ticking and hissing and steam was rising from the front end as Marion began screaming.

“Did I hit the bitch?” She screamed.

OVER AND OVER AGAIN!!

Within minutes, an ambulance arrived accompanied by what seemed like every cop in the country along with a contingent of Royal Canadian Mounties in sedans!

Dear God! There were cops EVERYWHERE!

The rest is almost a blur but I do recall that Marion was placed on a stretcher and an EMT guy came up to me.

“Don’t worry sir….she’ll be fine. It’s just a possible concussion and a nasty cut on her scalp.” He explained. “Head wounds bleed a lot but she’s gonna be just fine.”

I looked at him and shook my head.

“Dude….she just drove my car up a friggin’ telephone pole!” I snarled. “She ain’t EVER gonna be FINE! She’s a gotdamned maniac!”
He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Well….medically speaking…she’s okay.” He chuckled. “The psychological shit ain’t my department.”

He turned to walk away but suddenly turned back to me.

“You wanna talk to her before we take her to the hospital?” He asked.

“Yeah.” I answered.

I followed him to the ambulance.

She was laying on the gurney at the rear end of the ambulance as I walked up. I looked at her. She was crying and looking at me.

“I’m sorry about your car but this is YOUR fault!” She said.

“Marion…….I don’t ever want to see your crazy ass again.” I told her. “I’m tired of this shit.”

I walked away without looking back.

Okay……I DID walk away then but…..I am extremely embarrassed to admit that I continued seeing Marion for another month AFTER that ridiculous event!

Did I mention she was a BABE?

It’s amazing what a man will go through for a girl like that.

Shameful!

ANYWAY…..Back To The Story………..

Gene grinned at me as he smiled at Marion.

“You probably did something to piss her off.” He laughed. “I never liked that damn car anyway.”

“Damn right he did something to piss me off!” Marion snarled. “He’s a womanizer!”

I just shook my head and laughed.

“Yeah well….you’re a friggin’ maniac.” I chucked.

Gene smiled at her.

“I tend to believe your side of the story.” He laughed and looked at her. “I know for a fact that Ron’s an asshole.”

She looked at me and grinned smugly.

I couldn’t let him get involved with her without giving it another shot.

“Gene…..this is my last warning dude. Don’t let her rope you in.” I said flatly. “I’m tellin’ you pal…this won’t end well.”

Needless to say, Gene didn’t heed my advice. In fact, he flipped me the bird and proceeded to strike up a very intense private conversation with her.

I made myself scarce and let nature take its course for awhile as I did my job. After fifteen minutes or so, Gene waved me over.

“Lemme get another round here dude.”

Marion gave me a smirk as I shook my head and went to get their drinks.

As I returned and placed their drinks in front of them, Gene asked her why we had broken up.

Marion gave me a sinister look.

“Because he’s an asshole AND he’s a lousy lover!” She said loudly.

Gene roared with laughter and slammed his hand down on the bar.

I looked at Marion with what I’m certain was a shocked expression on my face.

After all…we used to go at it like rabbits when we were together!

She gave me a sinister look.

“Well….it’s true!” she said. “You ARE an asshole!”

I leaned in close to her.

“Okay…I’ll admit to being an asshole but what’s this about being a lousy lover?” I asked. “You never complained when we were together!” I said defensively.

She just sneered at me and took a sip of her wine.

Just then, Steve Levy, the owner of the bar walked up to the bar and sat down.

“Gimme a scotch rocks Ronster.” He said as he lit a cigarette.

“Comin’ up.” I said.

As I delivered his drink, he took a big drag off his cigarette, exhaled and looked at me with a wry grin.

“So…..what’s this I hear about you bein’ a lousy lover?” he snickered.

Everyone in the bar who had been paying rapt attention to Marion’s loud mouth absolutely HOWLED!

Gene had his head on the bar and old Tim Hannigan, the bar’s resident bar fly, was pounding his hand on the bar trying to catch his breath.

Marion just sat there laughing and glaring at me!

All I could do was stand there and take it all in.

When the laughter died down, I came to my own rescue.

“Okay Marion….if I’m such a lousy lover, how come you were so pissed when I dumped your crazy ass?”

Without missing a beat she burned me again.

“Because I figured you owed me at least ONE good fuck! You big ole ASSHOLE!” She screeched.

Of course……the bar went NUTS!

Once the laughter died down again, I decided to take another approach to the situation.

“If I was such a lousy lover, how come you never mentioned it?” I demanded.

Again…she didn’t miss a beat.

“I never said anything because I was afraid it would destroy your confidence.” She said as she turned toward the other folks in the bar. She then continued as though she was addressing a classroom full of rapt students.

“Most people don’t realize it but the male ego is a very fragile thing. I’ll bet you didn’t know that.” She finished with a smug look on her face.

Well hell….what was I supposed to say to that?

“Damn girl….I didn’t even know I HAD an ego till you said that shit!” I said sheepishly. “After this….I may need therapy.” I laughed.

Everyone was laughing when Tim Hannigan stood and quieted the small crowd.

“Ron…..don’t let this bother you son….my ex wife said that I was a lousy lover AND a poor provider! Women are full of shit!” He proclaimed.

“Shut the fuck up Tim!” Steve laughed. “Your wife left your sorry ass for a ugly assed girl she met when the bank was foreclosin’ on your fuckin’ house ‘cause you couldn't keep a gotdamned job!”

We all howled.

Tim flipped the bar the bird and sat down again.

He looked at me and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey…..I tried dude.” He shrugged his shoulders and then looked at Steve. “Fuck you Steve......them girls is just roommates!”

“Did you say ‘Womb-mates’ Tim?” Steve asked with a sinister grin.

Tim slumped his head towards the bar as the crowd erupted again.

“Thanks for your support Tim.” I said.

Just then, Diana, a girl I had been seeing recently walked up to the bar and motioned for me to lean close to her. I complied and she promptly laid a big kiss on me.

Again, the bar went wild until we separated.

She stood tall and glared at Marion.

“Don’t believe a word of her crap….this boy’s a great lover!” She proclaimed.

I beamed and raised my arms in Marion’s direction as my friends hooted and hollered.

“I guess it’s just a matter of opinion girl.” I laughed.

Marion wasn’t gonna shut up! She stood up and pointed at Diana.

“You’re just a young ‘un girl…you don’t what a good lover is.” She said. “You don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Diana laughed.

“I might be A LOT younger than you and haven’t screwed half the guys in town but I do know one thing……he ain’t with you…AND he IS with me!” She shouted.

In a flash, Marion was running around the bar toward Diana and let me tell ya’ll…..

It was ON!

To her credit, Diana defended herself well against Marion’s initial onslaught but, within seconds, Marion had her bent over the bar trying to strangle her. It took all my strength to pry her hands away from Diana’s throat as Gene pulled Marion off of her from behind.

Within a few moments, the attack had been thwarted but Marion was not to be calmed down. She kicked, screamed, cursed and snarled as Gene and Steve hauled her out of the bar.

After a few minutes, Steve came back inside breathing heavily.

He strode to the bar and sat down. He looked at me and then Diana.

“You okay little darlin’? “ He asked her.

Before she could respond, the front door of the club blew inward. The plate glass explosion was immediatly followed by the front end of a Chevy Nova!

Ten feet later, the car came to rest against a pool table…..engine still running.

Everyone stared at the bizarre sight as Marion sat stock still in the driver’s seat and Gene came crawling headfirst out of the passenger side window. He fell to the glass strewn floor and slowly stood up.

As the small crowd looked on, the engine revved and, as fast as it had appeared, the Nova backed out of the hole in the wall and drove off.

There was a stunned silence for a few seconds until Gene staggered toward the bar brushing his jeans with his hands. He looked up and grinned.

“Ain’t much of a driver is she?”

I couldn’t help but laugh as did everyone else. Everyone except Steve that is….

He was standing in the middle of the bar staring silently at the brand new door in his bar. After a few seconds, he turned and looked at no one in particular.

“Who the hell is gonna pay for this shit?” He screamed.

Everyone laughed even harder.

Gene walked up to me.

“Ron…..you shouldn’t have pissed her off.” He said.

I looked at him and laughed.

“You think THAT is MY fault?” I asked and pointed to the ruined wall.

He gave me a look that told me he was disgusted with me.

“You shouldn’t have pissed her off!” He spat. “You know that the girl is high strung!”

I couldn’t believe my ears!

Steve overheard Gene’s comments and stormed over to him.

“HIGH STRUNG?” He roared. “HIGH STRUNG? That bitch is a fuckin’ LUNATIC and I’m gonna put her crazy ass in jail!”

He stomped around the back of the bar and picked up the phone.

“What the hell are you doin’?” Gene asked.

“I’m callin’ the fuckin’ cops dumbass!” He growled. “Why the hell shouldn’t I?”

Gene reached over and grabbed Steve’s arm.

“No man…don’t call the cops!” He pleaded. “Steve…I’ll cover the damage. Hell, I’ll have it repaired by tomorrow afternoon.”

Steve jerked his arm out of Gene’s grasp.

“Fuck you!” He shouted. “That woman is goin’ to jail!”

“C’mon Steve…..I’ll take care of it!” Gene asked again.

Steve looked at me.

“Well?” He asked. “What should I do?”

“How the hell should I know? The woman is nuts but I don’t wanna see her locked up.” I said. “Although…….she might NEED to be locked up for awhile.” I offered. “After all….this is the second time in two months that she’s used a car as a deadly weapon.” I chuckled.

Steve thought about it for a minute and then hung up the phone. He turned to Gene.

“I want this shit cleaned up by tomorrow afternoon and YOU are gonna sleep here tonight to stand guard!” He snarled.

Gene smiled.

“Thanks a lot Steve.” He said.

“Why in the hell are you coverin’ her crazy ass Gene?’ I asked.

He gave me a weird look and uttered the words I’ll never forget.

“I’m gonna marry that girl Ron.” He said quietly. “And don’t let me hear you talk bad about her again.”

I started to say something else but....I didn’t.

I wish I had.

To Be Continued Soon……….

I'm Still Alive Ya'll

2007-08-02T22:30:00.000-05:00
Hi there all you guys and gals who are still stopping by from time to time to check on me. I assure you, I'm still alive.

I'm floored that any of you still drop by.

Michelle and I have been fine just a bit busy/preoccupied lately but, we're doing well.

You know...this blogging thing is funny. I have felt guilty as hell for not checking out other folk's blogs and of course, not doing anything on mine but.....life gets in the way at times.

Between work, the house, a few health things (including jumping off my brothers boat, slipping on the deck and wrenching my damned knee!!!).....I've been incredibly remiss in blogging.

I used to sit down here at the computer and write for hours at a time and was able to spill my guts about my past as though time didn't matter at all. However, for the past several months, I can't seem to find the time or inclination to do it anymore.I WANT to but......I can't seem to do it like I did before. I think I set a high bar for myself by doing those long, drawn out, multi-chaptered tales for a while. I guess I felt as though I shouldn't write ANYTHING if I didn't think I could finish it soon.

Not that they were all that great but, it's what I did and a lot of ya'll seemed to like it so.....it's what I did.So NOW....I'm just gonna try and do the best I can but I AM gonna blog again.

Hell....if nothing else, I'm just gonna spout off about my daily/weekly stuff.

HOWEVER.....I DO have another strange tale of my past life that I'd like to offer for ya'll.

I'm telling you up front that I don't know exactly how long it'll take to finish but.....I will finish it this time.

Between installments, I'm gonna keep in touch.I miss you guys and all the feedback as well keeping in touch with a bunch of yall.

On a totally different note:

Michelle and I don't actually have our place on the market officially but, we're kind of testing the waters to see what we might get for it were we to sell so, I had one of our folks at work build a website presenting our house and land. In case you want to see where we live, (and I'm not trying to use this blog to sell the place) you can check it out at http://www.highcountryloghome.com/ .

We love it here but we're thinking about selling out, moving a bit further down the mountain (where it's warmer) and doing some traveling.

That little woman gets an idea in her head and I am legally required to indulge her!

Well, I'll be in touch more often...I promise.

The new tale begins tomorrow.....I guarantee it.

Ron

Ain't Life Strange?

2007-05-22T23:16:00.000-05:00
I know that I need to finish the story that I started awhile back but….I had a strange thing happen today and I just felt like ‘sharing’ it with those who are still dropping by.

As I’ve said before, I live in a tourist/summer home area and, every once in a while, I came face to face with a ‘Flor-idiot’ (a part time Florida resident who is not really a Floridian but a Yankee transplant) and today was just such a day.

To be fair….I’m not sure how I would have reacted given the same scenario but, since I’ve become a grumpy old man, I would probably have acted in much the same way as the guy I’m gonna tell ya’ll about BUT…..we’ll never know because well…it happened to some anonymous Yankee prick and not me!

Thank God!

Yankee’s are just SO damned funny when they get pissed off! Don’t get me wrong…we Southern boys are every bit as bad tempered at times but damn it….we tend to get EVEN…not angry!

Call me crazy but I think Yankee’s are simply predisposed to be pissed off and today was a prime example.

Anyway…here’s the deal.

I was heading in to the office when I found myself trapped behind a slow moving luxury pick up truck. You know the kind….a brand new Cadillac pick up truck. If that’s not a friggin’ oxymoron, I don’t know what is!

However, I digress.

This shiny new slow moving truck was doing thirty five in fifty mph zone and the bed was crammed to the gills with furniture. Of course, I was in a hurry and began to get impatient when, all of a sudden, a huge mattress literally took flight and flew directly toward me!

Well damn!

I almost tossed my sausage egg McMuffin into the back seat but, of course….I didn’t.

I almost lost control of my six thousand ton Suburban but, of course…..I didn’t.

After all….any self respecting Southern boy would rather die in a fiery crash wearing a cocktail dress and high heels than lose control of a motor vehicle OR a perfectly edible biscuit so……of course….

I dealt with the situation.

I don’t want to brag but, much like Dustin Hoffman in ‘Rainman’….

I’m an excellent driver.

I swerved into the oncoming traffic lane to avoid the flying Beauty Rest mattress just in time to see a rapidly approaching Mini Cooper closing in fast!

You might not believe it but I actually had time to find humor in the situation.

Given the scenario, I was in pretty good shape here.

Huge Beauty Rest mattress?

Tiny little toy car?

If I collided with either of them, I was gonna be in good shape because I’m driving a friggin’ Brink’s truck with three dozen air bags!

What’s the worst that could happen?

Hell, if I got into a collision at thirty five mph, I think the interior of my car would look like a birthday party at Chucky Cheese!

Balloons would be EVERYWHERE!

Of course, the Mini Cooper would be reduced to a replacement hubcap and the Beauty Rest would be LAID TO REST but…..

I’d be okay.

So anyway, I swerved back in behind the pick up truck.

Once I had regained my composure…..not that I had actually ever LOST my composure, I took another bite of McMuffin, drank a sip of iced tea, checked my crotchital area for signs of inadvertent leakage and took a deep breath.

I was ALIVE and…..so was the Mini Cooper as well as the Beauty Rest.

I could still see the spinning mattress in my rear view mirror.

I decided to alert the driver of the pick up truck that he had lost a mattress so I gunned the Suburban and fell in to a position ten feet off of the guy’s bumper.

I flashed my headlights and tapped the horn repeatedly to no avail. I swerved to the left a bit and continued my efforts to attract the guy’s attention.

To no avail.

After several minutes of trying to get the guy’s attention, I noticed a huge muscular arm hanging out of the drivers side window motioning for me to pass.

I was in a no passing zone but, I ignored the double yellow lines and moved left and accelerated.

As I pulled alongside the pick up truck, I saw a car bearing down on me so I dropped back into the right lane on the bumper of the truck.

I continued my lights and horn routine while waiting for another opportunity to pull alongside the truck.

During this wait I noticed that the huge muscular arm was now flipping me a defiant middle finger!

I couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought of this guy getting so damned steamed at a dude who was just trying to be a good Samaritan.

Hell, I could see myself misinterpreting the situation and getting seriously pissed off at some redneck honking and flashing his lights on my slow moving ass if our roles were reversed!

To make a long story short…..about three miles further down the road, we came to a stop light at which one lane goes straight while the other goes right.

The light was red.

As he veered into the right lane and came to a stop, I could see his taillights briefly turn white.

This dude was putting his truck into park!

Did I mention the huge, muscular arm?

I pulled up beside him and pushed the button for the front passenger window and watched it slide down as I threw the car into park.

The truck’s door flew open and a very large swarthy lookin’ dude uncoiled out of the vehicle like a pissed off gorilla!

I could hear him shouting but couldn’t make out his words.

I was busy!

Before he reached the passenger side of my car, I had reached behind the passenger seat and wrapped my hand around the grip of my beloved Model 1911 Colt pistol.

This young dude was huge AND pissed!

I wasn’t going to fight him over a flying mattress!

He put both hands on the sill of the passenger door and screamed at me.

“You got a fuggin’ problem man?!!” He demanded.

I started to speak but he drowned me out.

“I was goin’ as fast as I fuggin’ could ASSHOLE! I got a big fuggin’ load mutherfugger!” He screamed.

I started laughing which of course INFURIATED the man.

He slammed the side of my car and started to walk away.

“You ain’t gonna be able to sleep a wink tonight dude!” I shouted.

He stopped in his tracks.

“What?” he asked.

“You’re gonna have to sleep on the couch tonight big boy!” I laughed.

He walked slowly back to the car and leaned in with both forearms on the window sill.

“What the fuck are you talkin’ about?” He asked.

I couldn’t help but laughing.

“What!!” He demanded.

I finally gained control and took a deep breath.

“You lost a mattress a few miles back.” I said.

“What?” He asked again.

“Check your truck dude…..you’re missing a mattress.” I laughed.

He strode over to his truck and looked into the bed.

After a second or two, he walked slowly over to my car and leaned his arms on the window sill again.

“Mister….I’m sorry.” He said as he hung his head. “I was gonna kick your ass.” He grinned sheepishly.

“Well, you better go find your mattress.” I said.

He straightened up and began to walk away without another word which, quite frankly, pissed me off!

I thought I deserved a better apology!

“Hey!” I shouted.

He leaned back down and I leveled the Colt at him.

He froze.

“I hope you learned a lesson here.” I grinned.

To his credit….he was a cool customer.

He leaned back down and smiled.

“Yessir….I certainly have.”

I reached behind the seat and returned the pistol to it’s holster.

“Go get your bed dude…you ought to sleep good tonight.” I said.

“No shit man!” He laughed.

We talked for a second while traffic backed up behind us until I put my car into ‘drive’ and started to pull off.

Before the light could turn green, we exchanged business cards and shook hands.

It took me twenty minutes to get to work but, by the time I got there, our receptionist already had a message for me.

I called the number.

It was the guy I had ‘met’.

We spoke for almost half an hour and………

We’ve got a ten o'clock tee time for tomorrow.

Ain’t life strange?

Hi Ya'll

2007-05-19T23:30:00.002-05:00
Believe it or not....I'm gonna start blogging again. Life has slowed down a bit. I WILL finish the last tale and I promise that I WILL blog more often in the near future.

We have finally finished sprucing up the house and landscaping in preparation for selling. So far, we have received an offer from someone who wishes to turn our property into a damned sub division. The money is right but damn...do you screw your neighbors by selling your property to developers or do you hold out for less money from someone wishing to simply buy the house and land for a place to live? Quite a friggin' quandry there.

Oh well.....we'll just have to see.

Anyway....I assure ya'll that I'll be back soon and blogging like a long lost sinner.

Thanks for those of you who have continued to check in here.

See you soon.....

Ron

Sorry but...

2007-04-11T23:41:00.000-05:00
I've had some strange health related events going on the past few days or more so...I've been a bit preoccupied.

I'll finish the tale tomorrow I hope.

The truth is that I've been really busier than I wish I was and, in my spare time, I've been thinking more about playing music and doing woodworking than I have anything else so....the blogging has taken a bit of a back seat.

HOWEVER............I really enjoy communicating with most of ya'll.

Okay......a couple of ya'll are just, well.....real strange.

I don't reject many comments but there is ONE person who keeps commenting on my blog who I believe to be a friggin' serial killer!

Here's a hint as to who it might be.....

Let's pretend that I've written a post about the time when I rescued a stray dog from a house fire.

Okay...........have we got that?

I rescued a dog from a house fire.

Are we clear?

Okay.....

Here's the comment which would probably appear on my blog the very next day.

"Hey Ron.....I know what you mean. I really appreciate the story dude. Your story reminds me of the time when I was eatin' spiders, drinkin' my own urine and sleeping with a fuckin' python just to keep those fuckin' gooks from smellin' me! The python sweat was pungent but...I NEEDED them to smell it........just to keep 'em from smellin' ME!"

Or....he might try another tact....

"Ron....dogs are something that I know ALOT about! I once had a dog who could fetch a stick, lick MY ass and do a brake job on a fuggin' Sherman Tank!"

I'm not kiddin' ya'll this dude is OUT THERE!

The other strange commenter is a really wierd Japanese spammer who keeps telling me that my dick is much shorter than it needs to be.

Now don't get me wrong.....

I believe that my 'johnson' could stand a little enlargement but damn....

How the hell does that little bastard KNOW that?

It's really spooky!

ANYHOW.....

I'll catch ya'll soon.

Global Warmin' My Ass!!

2007-04-07T08:08:00.000-05:00

As if we needed more proof that Al Gore is a friggin' barking moonbat moron.....we woke up with eight inches of snow on the ground and a thermometer struggling to top 15 degrees! And it's STILL snowing!

Looks like a great day to go to the old wood shop, butcher some wood and maybe finish my latest tale.
I'm gonna try and post a couple of pictures of the snow event and a box I just finished for 'she who must be adored'. It's the second one I've made because my Mom stole the first one! Actually, all she did was mention that she REALLY liked it so....Michelle gave it to her. As you can tell, I have absolutely no power to resist the wishes of the women in my life.

Ya'll stay warm and I'll see you soon.

Recorded 'Flashbacks'

2007-04-01T00:35:00.000-05:00
Sometimes when I’m going to be in the car for a long while, I open a big box of old cassette tapes and grab a half dozen or more before leaving the house. These are tapes from the ‘old days’ and due to the fact that I was never very good at documenting things, I rarely have a clue as to what I’m going to be listening to. I call it my ‘Random Blast From The Past’. It sure breaks up the boredom of a long trip and frequently, it instantly takes me back to a long ago and almost forgotten point in time with near perfect clarity.

It’s really amazing.

Some of these tapes are simply full of songs captured off the radio from a certain year which I recorded so that I could learn them and write down the lyrics. Some are practice sessions which I almost always recorded for later scrutiny. A bunch of them are live recordings made mostly on not so state of the art recording equipment run through the sound system.

Believe it or not, some of the best ones were recorded by placing an old ‘boom box’ somewhere in the club and simply pushing ‘Record’. One of us would check on it at the end of a set or two, flip the tape and push record again. Even more than the professionally produced stuff I’ve done….those ‘BoomBox Tapes’ are my absolute favorites!

These tapes are ninety minutes of FLASHBACK!

I hear crowd noise, bottles being tossed into trash cans, long ago forgotten people having conversations, the occasional drunken woman laughing at the top of her lungs, former band members comments and always…..ME!

Dear Lord was I ever a smart ass!

It’s a wonder nobody shot me but I used to say some outrageous stuff while onstage and strangely, no one ever got mad.

People always just kinda laughed and said, “Awww, that’s just Ron.”

On one tape I listened to today, I could be heard as the last note of a Alabama tune ended (If I Had You)…..

“Hey, Jean and Daniel!” I shouted over the mic. “For God’s sake, I know ya’ll just got married today but for God’s sake…..consumate that sumbitch at home! You’re makin’ us horny up here!”

The crowd exploded and that poor young couple damn near died! They had been doing a slow grind and swappin’ spit the whole time we played the song.

Today, fifteen years later……

I was THERE.

Right back in the moment.

Another set of three tapes took me back to a time when I had formed a band called ‘Bootleg’. The band consisted of yours truly, a great guitar player and singer named Dicky Blevins, a weird bass player named Artie Cantrell, a drummer named Boo Thurman, a rhythm guitar player and singer named Ernie Gadson and a keyboard player named Billy Pounder.

I don’t know the exact year but in was probably 1980 and we played all over the east coast but, on this occasion, we were playing a club in Myrtle Beach, SC. I believe the name of the place was ‘Rosie’s’ but….don’t quote me on that.

In one of the tapes today, I heard us talking on stage between songs and after rewinding the tape three times, I finally figured out what was being said.

DAMN!

It reminded me of one of the wildest things I’d ever lived through.

Here’s the conversation…..

“So how in the hell are we gonna get to Savannah dude” Artie asked.

“How the hell should I know?” I answered.

“Well we damned sure can’t count on old Tom can we?!” He laughed.

"Aw man...that's fucked up!" I replied.

Innocent enough ain’t it?

Nothing strange in that right?

Wrong!

Hearing that brief exchange and the laughter which ensued on that long ago tape, I was transported precisely to a moment in time that was, at the time, let us say…a bit trying.

In retrospect however, it was just freakin’ strange and funny!

Here’s the tale….

Our agent at the time, Steve Lehman, got us the booking in Myrtle Beach but our little bus had broken down so….the gig was in jeopardy.

We really needed the money as well as the exposure so quite naturally, everyone was panicking. Steve came to me three days before the big Myrtle Beach gig and said that he had found transportation for us and it would only cost us a thousand bucks.

He and I got in the car and headed down Hwy 17 in Charleston and drove south until we came to a little used car lot called….I’m not making this up….

’Honest Abe’s Home For Veteran Vehicles’.

“You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me Steve.” I laughed.

He looked over at me and grinned.

“What can I tell ya…dis sumbitch thinks he’s Abe Lincoln.” He sort of shrugged his narrow shoulders. “He’s a fuckin’ nutcase but….he’s got us a deal.”

We pulled into the lot and as we drove past the little office, I noticed that it looked like a tiny replica of the White House!

No sooner had Steve parked the car than a very tall, gawky looking man who looked remarkably like all the historical pictures of Abe Lincoln came striding through the White House’s front door and headed straight for us.

“I thought you were kiddin’” I laughed.

“Wait till you meet this moron.” Steve said.

We got out off the car and walked to meet the guy.

“My fellow American’s!” He shouted as he offered his hand.

“Well, actually Mr. President…..I’m Canadian.” I lied.

He grabbed my hand and pumped it vigorously.

“Always glad to meet a brother from the north!” He grinned.

Steve laughed and shook the dead chief executive’s hand.

“Well I’m AM an American Mr. President.”

The guy shook his hand and looked at us both in a conspiratorial manner.

Side Note:

I know I often say this in my stories but….I have to say it again.

I AIN’T MAKIN’ THIS UP FOLKS……..

“I ain’t REALLY Abe Lincoln boys.” He said quite seriously. “I’m required to say that so ya’ll don’t get confused.”

I looked at Steve and he covered his face. His shoulders were shaking and he could barely contain himself.

I looked at Abe and grinned.

“You’re kidding right?” I asked innocently.

He became animated and began stomping around.

“Oh HELL NO…..I ain’t kiddin’ one bit sir!” He almost shouted. “You get ONE fucking lawyer latched onto your boney ass and you cain’t have no gotdamned fun AT ALL!”

We were speechless so…he continued.

“Don’t get me wrong boys….I KNOW who I am but well, you know…I just cain’t say it right out no more. It’s a legal thing you unnerstand.”

I looked at Steve as if to say, “Dear God…let’s get this over with!” So….like a good guy, he did.

Regaining his composure, Steve tried to steer the long deceased commander in chief to the matter at hand.

“I heard that you’ve got a big van for sale.” He said.

Old Abe perked right up and transformed into a used car salesman.

Thankfully!

“Oh yessir!” He said while motioning us to follow him. “You are of course referring to this fine vehicle at the back of my lot.”

We walked almost half a block through rows and rows of vintage automobiles and, as I remember, one authentic Sherman tank until we came upon a gun metal gray ANCIENT vehicle.

“Here we are my fellow Americans!” He announced proudly. “This is an almost mint condition 1966 Tom’s Peanut truck!”

The damned thing was huge and incredible ugly but, as we inspected it….we realized that it would do the trick…..IF it ran which, after a short test drive, we decided it would. Actually, it ran quite well so, ugly and all….we bought it after arguing the price down to eight hundred bucks.

We paid the president in cold hard dead presidents and I drove the truck back to my house but not before we shook hands with Abe.

“Boy’s ya’ll will be happy with that vehicle or my name isn’t Honest Abe.” He said somberly.

“What’s your REAL name Mr. President?” I asked sarcastically.

He grinned and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Keep this under your hat boys but it’s really Ivan Mandel….hence the ‘Honest Abe’ He laughed. “Who the hell would buy a used car from a plain old Russian?”

I looked at Steve who was damn near bent over laughing.

“Oh yeah….I can understand that.” I laughed. “I’d MUCH rather buy a used car from a dude who thinks he’s Abraham friggin’ Lincoln.” I growled. “C’mon Steve…I’ve gotta smoke SOMETHING soon!”

After driving the monster home, my band mates came over and we began to get stoned and brainstorm over how we were going to modify the damned thing.

Within two days, we had transformed that ugly, ungainly beast into a pretty cool vehicle.

Artie was a talented artist so he was given the job of putting our logo on the sides of the van. Ernie was the sound system freak and he was given the job of wiring the truck for sound. Dickie came up with the idea of securing a beer keg to the floor which was cooled by a plastic shell into which we constantly had to pour mass quantities of ice. I came up with the idea of bolting army cots into both side walls so we could sleep if needed. Boo Thurman had the most brilliant stroke of genius when he suggested that we cut a large Frisbee sized hole in the back door beneath one of the windows so that we could stand upright, view the cars behind us in traffic along the highway and try to piss on their windshields!

We planned to see which of us could cause motorists to turn on their windshield wipers but alas…..that plan never came to fruition. Before we ever had a chance to play that strange game…..well....

Shit, as they say...HAPPENED!

We loaded up the van with all of our small stuff and climbed on board headed for Myrtle Beach. Most of our sound system, instruments and lighting was to follow us in a truck driven by Tucker Blevins, Dickie’s older brother.

By the time we climbed aboard our ‘new’ truck on James Island, Ernie, Artie, Billy, Boo, Dicky and myself were as stoned as hell and ready to roll!

Tom Kelly, our driver was an old man of at least forty and a family man who possessed all the humor of a friggin’ undertaker. I don’t think he really liked us OR his job but, since he rarely spoke at all, we really couldn’t be sure. He was a retired Marine who looked exactly like a retired Marine and only spoke when it was absolutely necessary.

“Allright boys……….we’re gone.” He barked. “Sit your asses down and don’t be smokin’ none of that silly shit!”

We just groaned and laughed at him as we passed the bong around.

“Hey Tom…you want a hit?’ Dickie asked.

“Fuck you!” He growled. “You little bastard.”

Ah yes….things were going well.

We rode north for a couple of hours or so and along the way, we drank beer, pissed out the back door, smoked pot and worked on new songs accompanied by me or Dickie on guitar, Billy on a little keyboard and Boo playing drums on anything in range of his ever present sticks.

We were having a real ball until all of a sudden; we felt the van lurch violently! In a matter a mili-second, our world went upside down and ‘ass over tea kettle’!

For what seemed like five minutes, all of the occupants and items in the big van were thrown around like cement inside a mixer until just as suddenly, the world became silent again except for moans, groans, creaks, hisses and traffic noises.

I can remember feeling an incredible pain in my right knee as I looked up into the brilliant sunshine and wondered how in the hell I was so far away from the truck. It had to be at least twenty yards away from me and down a steep embankment. I had been thrown out apparently as had Dickie Blevins who was only a few yards away and standing upright and stumbling around.

Within seconds, Billy, Ernie, Boo and Artie crawled out of the open back doors of the van which laid on its side.

Everyone sort of mulled together for a few awkward moments comparing minor injuries until we heard a siren wailing.

The siren grew louder until finally, a hundred feet back up the hill, we heard a voice.

“Stay where you are! Help is on the way!”

We all looked up.

“Holy shit!” Ernie said. “That’s a state trooper!”

We were all beat up a bit, stoned and pretty much drunk but the only pot we had on us was quickly buried by Boo Thurman as the cop came hopping down the steep incline. As he reached us, he put his hand on his big revolver.

“You boys okay?” He asked.

In a chorus of grunts, groans, murmurs and grins, we conveyed the fact that yes…we were indeed alive and well.

Seemingly satisfied with our response the trooper hopped down the hill to the truck where he leaned up into the overturned cab.

Immediately he leaped back and leaned over with his hands on his knees.

“Oh dear Lord!” He said quietly.

We all started to stumble towards the van and the young trooper held out his hands palms out, warning us off.

“Stay away!” He gasped. “Ya’ll don’t wanna see this.”

“What’s goin’ on?” I asked as I limped down the hill.

The trooper looked at me with a vague expression on his face.

“Sir….whoever was driving this vehicle is now deceased.” He said somberly.

DAMN!

Old Tom Kelly who had earned a DFC and two bronze stars in three tours in Vietnam had been decapitated while chauffeuring a bunch of stoned musicians to a gig in Myrtle Beach.

A hero had died and a bunch of moronic musicians had survived relatively unscathed.

Go figure.

Life just ain’t never gonna make any damned sense at all is it?

Well, as things progressed, the trooper regained his composure and began questioning us as we gathered around the crumpled van.

Ambulances had arrived and we all just sort of endured the ordeal.

We watched as the ambulance crew extricated Tom’s body and severed head from the van and still the trooper questioned us.

As we collectively denied any usage of illegal drugs or the consuming of alcohol, a low rumble could be heard above the din of activity in the air.

We all heard this strange noise but, none of us could quite place its origin.

It seemed like a low roll of thunder in the distance.

Suddenly, and without warning, a loud explosion occurred and everyone within forty feet of that smoking hulk was showered with beer!

Apparently, the keg had been shaken to the point where it exploded and of course…..

We ALL went to jail.

To Be Continued………..

Finally!

2007-03-29T23:27:00.000-05:00
I finally realized why I haven’t been writing lately!

I’ve gone back to the office for the past two or three months after spending a LONG time..over two years…. just hangin’ out at the house.

Hell, my brother is the true brains of the business and after I ran into some heart problems, I just stayed at home, cashed checks and enjoyed a semi retirement at the ripe old age of fifty.

I got used to being a man of leisure and enjoying life with the love of my life Michelle and our pain in the ass puppy….Molly.

Well, to make a long story short….I got into blogging when I had plenty of time, inclination and single mindedness to stick with it for a while but damn…I didn’t have anything else to do back then!

Now I’m actually trying to do more than one thing in a single day and I’ve gotta tell ya’ll….I ain’t a multi-tasking kind of dude.

I’m really not all that bright to begin with!

My world has been rocked and I’m having to actually deal with employees, clients and well…..PEOPLE!

Oh the humanity!

It’s sort of surreal actually….we have over 400 clients and I used to know ALL of them when there were only 300 but now….I feel like a stranger.

It’s weird.

Hell, we have employees I’ve never even met until a couple of months ago. They have names, families, problems, and HUGE salaries that I know nothing about.

They are all young.

Some are great kids…..some are really strange.

Just today, I was talking to our data base guru.

I asked him a simple question about something that a client wanted to do on their website. No big deal. It was a question that, as a techno moron, I figured would require a simple ‘yes or no’ answer to but…of course, I was wrong.

Jim launched into a long winded dissertation on the laws of freakin’ physics or some such crap and within fifteen seconds, my eyes glazed over…..I heard the sounds of sitars, car crashes, thundering herds of horses and a dozen fiddle players on amphetamines as his words seemed to run together. My right hand reached for a non existent Colt .45 in an imaginary holster but alas….I was unarmed and I could not SHOOT the sonofabitch!!

I would have strangled him with my bare hands but Jim is a 1300th degree black belt in some form of deadly martial arts, 30 years old and has the ability to bend steel bars with his eyebrows so, somehow I kept my arthritic hands to myself.

Call me a pacifist.

Jim has been with us for five years and honestly, I’ve NEVER understood a word that the yankee sumbitch has ever uttered but now…….it’s just worse!

It’s not him really…it’s me.

I’ve been away so long and I’ve been so damned content at being away that I think I may have lost the capacity to deal with day to day business crap!

My brother and I started the business twelve years ago after running two restaurants into the ground but things have been great ever since.

I was heavily involved for nine of those years but gradually, I eased myself into semi-retirement. After the heart related stuff, I pretty much have stayed at home. I called in and talked to my brother each day but, for all intents and purposes…..I quit working.

Now the business is growing even more and I have found myself pulled back into it without really even intending to be.

One day, I casually mentioned to Mike….my brother…that I missed hangin’ out at the office with him and BOOM!!

I’m back at the office and quite frankly….

I'm freakin’ MISERABLE!!!!!

One of the weirdest feelings in the world is to be a co-owner of a business and realize in your most honest moments that quite frankly…..

I don’t even BELONG there!

Hell, I’m not qualified to be a fuckin’ administrative assistant at a company I friggin’ OWN!

It’s so strange to be sitting there in my office trying to find something to do!

I’m not kidding ya’ll!

I used to answer the phone ten times a day. I used to place twenty calls each day. I used to have appointments, make decisions, write articles, talk to clients, do lunch and all that other crap and now?

Now I look at the clock, play games on the computer, laugh and joke with employees whom I know nothing about, call Michelle three times a day and talk with my brother when he’s not too busy to talk to me.

I feel a bit like useless these days but….I’m trying to insinuate myself back into REAL life and I suppose it’ll happen soon enough but I sure do miss spending ALL of my time with 'Itty Bitty' (Michelle) and that damned pain in the ass puppy!

Oh well…..such is life and I’m sure I’ll get used to it but I sure do miss those days of doing only those things which brought me joy.

Spending my days and nights with my wife, butchering wood, watching old movies while butchering wood and driving around the mountain trying to find where that damned little cocker spaniel Molly has run off to was a lot of fun.

And oh yeah….I miss blogging too.

I'll be back soon......I hope.

What Can I Say?

2007-03-11T20:38:00.000-05:00
I’ve had one hell of a time trying to figure out how to say this so….I’ll just come out and say it……

I don’t know why the hell I haven’t been writing and/or posting.

Yes, I’ve been going to the office almost everyday and yes…..I’ve been otherwise occupied in the old workshop but really, I’ve had time to write but….I just haven’t done so.

I have had plenty of ideas of what to write about but, I can’t seem to get motivated and actually write anything. I know I promised to write about my encounter with Anna Nicole but, I can’t seem to finish the damned thing.

Oh well, maybe daylight saving time will bring about a change in my biorhythms or whatever the hell ain’t firing in my brain these days.

In the meantime…ya’ll keep checkin’ back, hell it don’t cost you anything to click the mouse and see if I’ve done anything.

Feel free to curse me if you wish....I can't hear it up here on the mountain!

I hope ya’ll are all doing well.

By the way....is anyone having a problem with the new Blogger? They MADE me switch to the new version and I can't seem to get used to it.

Oh well.....I suppose it's progress....right?

Ron

Hi There Again Boys and Girls

2007-02-14T23:53:00.000-05:00
I’ve been seriously remiss in posting but, quite frankly, I haven’t really had the time or inclination to write ANYTHING.

HOWEVER….I think that is about to change.

I’ve been obsessed with working with wood in my little workshop for quite awhile now and I think I’ve finally grown weary of my new toys. I’m also now convinced that I am to woodworking what the Cleveland Browns are to the NFL……INEPT!

Lord!

I couldn’t cut a straight line if my gonads depended on it! My perfect circle looks oddly like a warped rugby ball. My curves are actually misguided bulges and my artistic endeavors can rightfully be compared to a monkey trying to screw a football.

Sooooo…………

I’m gonna start writing again. Blog stuff AND music.

I have avoided playing much music for the past two years mainly because I had become stale. I'm playing again and I'll be damned if it don't feel 'new' again.

Pretty damned cool.

My voice has changed with age and I've forgotten how to breath while singing but the result is a much more honest, laid back sound and feel. It's pretty wierd.

I'm playing all the old songs....all the old licks but somehow differently, it just sounds good to me.

Oh well....I'm through rambling on for now but...I'll see ya'll soon.

I hope ya’ll check back soon.

Anyway….I’m glad to see ya’ll are still dropping by…..thanks a lot.

No.....wait!

Did I mention I’m going to work every day now?

Oh yeah…our company has really taken off and, thankfully….we have more work than we can handle so….now, for the first time in over two years….I’m having to get back to work!

Damn it!

I was really getting used to getting paid for stayin at home but….all good things must end I suppose.

Actually it’s not so bad…I get to spend more time with my brother Mike who is the brains behind the business as well as a bunch of great young employees and, of course, my precious niece Lauren.

Ok....one last thing.........

I’m beginning the story of my meeting with Anna Nicole. Really….I spent quite a bit of time with her while she was as whacked out as a nine eyed jackass!

True story!

Stay Tuned……….

Hi There Boys and Girls

2007-02-02T00:08:00.000-05:00
I hope all ya'll are doing well. I just wanted to let you know that I really DO plan on posting again someday soon but, for whatever reason, I just haven't been able to find the time, motivation or desire to write anything.

One of these days, I'm sure the mood will strike me and I'll actually finish something I started.

I'm doing a lot of woodworking and such but alas...not much writing. What little I AM writing....I can't seem to actually finish.

I suppose I'm going through some sort of mountain malaise but I'm sure enjoying butchering the hell out of wood these days. I go through this during the winter months for some damned reason.

I'm still visiting ya'lls blogs however.

Hope to see you soon.

Greetings My Friends

2007-01-23T00:45:00.000-05:00
I hope ya'll have been doing well. Me? I've been getting on quite well but have been occupied with various persuits that do not include blogging.

It's funny but it seems to me that quite a few of my blog favorites are going through a similar experience. It's not really that I have nothing to write about, it's just that I really haven't had time to write it!

Hopefully, I will find the time and inclination to get back to blogging in the near future.

Until then, thanks for dropping by and please....check back from time to time. I've started several tales from my misspent youth including one about the biggest bully I've ever known and his just rewards which I hope to finish soon.

See ya'll soon.

What I've Been Up To....

2007-01-12T00:13:00.000-05:00
Some of you asked that I post pictures of the snow while others asked that I post pictures of my initial attempts at the scroll saw so....here goes.

I usually do wood carving or Dremel work so......don't expect too much. This is a new hobby for me. I'm having fun learning how to use the scroll saw. It's a really safe and versatile tool. With the temperature in the teens and snow on the ground, it ain't like I've got much else to do these days.

The first picture is the front yard. The second is 'Molly', the spoiled rotten puppy. Next is the bed I made for her using the scroll saw and Dremel tool. Michelle made the pillow, I just did the wood work. Then there is the butterfly picture frame I made for my nieces. Next is the plaque I made for my Mom and last but not least is the likeness of Ronaldus Maximus...The Gipper...Ronald Reagan. Damn! That one took a long time and I'm gonna give it to my Dad.

So...as ya'll can can see, I've been busy makin' saw dust but I will be posting another yarn soon.

I hope ya'll are all doing well.

Back soon.

No...I'm Not Dead!

2007-01-09T23:51:00.000-05:00
Everything is fine here on the homefront. I've just been a bit obsessed with my new toy....a scroll saw. I've always loved working with wood and since I got the scroll saw, I've devoted almost every free moment to learning how to use the damned thing. I've made some pretty cool stuff so far.

I'll be back posting soon and I'm still checking out ya'lls blogs.

We had a veritable blizzard up here today. I may post some pics in the morning.

I hope all of you are doing well and are happy.

Thanks Ya'll

2006-12-31T00:21:00.001-05:00
Thanks for all the nice comments on my last post.

I'll be back soon with another story.

I'm not sure which it will be.....

Will it be the one about my time hangin' out with Hoyt Axton?

Maybe the story of how Michelle and I FINALLY got together?

Or maybe, the story of the best revenge plot I've ever heard.

Then again, it might be the story of my mom and dad.

Who knows but, it'll be SOMETHING pretty soon.

I hope ya'll had a great Christmas and have a fantastic New Years!

I had a great Christmas and, yesterday, I had an incredibly BLESSED day!

My South Carolina Gamecock's won the Liberty Bowl in a thrilling shootout against Houston, the hated Clemson Tigers got their sorry asses handed to them by the Kentucky Wildcats and Saddam Hussien got his murderous neck stretched by the Iraqui people!!

Ah...life is GOOD!

Happy New Year ya'll and GOD BLESS you all.

Ron