Greeting to all and welcome new friends to the East Wing.
WOW ! Is Sophia The Republican Cat happy or what?
A week ago last Wednesday, thought I’d lost my cat. Sophia wasn’t here when I came home from work. Even though I don’t like that cat, and she’s a pain in the butt, I called and called. She wasn’t here. The 2girldogs were happy she was gone, as was the Angel. I asked the 1wife if she’d seen Sophia. She said “yep and she was in the cat house packing her suitcase.” She also said “I saw her put her autographed picture of Herbert Hoover in too”. That worried me. The cat taking her Herbert Hoover Picture was a serious move. Now that cat don’t stray too far from the Hoover Picture.
Events within my family required me to be in southeastern Kentucky for three days last week. While in the mountains, I called the 1wife to see if Sophia had returned home. She had not. I was prepared to accept life without Sophia The Republican Cat when I returned to Indiana.
It was well into the night when I returned home late last Tuesday, having driven from Salyersville KY, stopping only briefly along the way. The cat was not home to greet me. The 2girldogs were trying their best to make up for the cat not being here. The cat was gone. There was no republican cat in the East Wing. It was a sad time. The Pup Baby even offered to go over to the dark side if I wanted her to, just so we’d have a republican in the East Wing.
After being a blue dog democrat for so many years, just lying on the couch waiting for a hand out, I didn’t think the Pup Baby could make the switch, so I said no. We would just have to struggle along without the republican cat.
Tired after a full day of travel and kinda wound up from driving 500 miles, I decided to watch TV for a while. The channel I was watching interrupted the program for an update on the Massachusetts Special Election to fill the Senate Seat vacated by the death of Ted Kennedy.
CBS projected that Scott Brown had won the Senate Race, and it was such a shock that they decided to continue to describe this election as being on national importance. That a Republican had taken the seat of Ted Kennedy. A seat Kennedy held for some 47 years. Even after he drowned that girl when he was drunk years ago, they still sent him back to Washington as the Senator from Massachusetts. Guess if ya got enough money, ya can drown anybody ya want to, and still be the Senator from Massachusetts. Just don’t seem right to me, but that’s the way it worked out for a long time, a long, long time.
Turns out that a magic number was joining the ranks of the Senate Republicans that night, they now have 41, and that means the democrats do not be enough votes to shut off filibusters in the Senate.
Now 41 votes means ya can never get enough votes to get anything passed, but if ya can talk long enough the other side can’t get anything passed either. Sometimes I think it takes two sides of stupid to make our political system work. If President Obama is one, there’re a lot of folks wanting to be the other side of stupid too.
The more the television talked about politics, the more I missed that Damn Republican Cat.
And Then The Cat Came Home !!! WOW ! Did that cat ever come home, chauffer driven to the driveway. Escorted up to the front door, she didn’t even have to carry her own suitcase. She walked in the door, kissed the picture and said “Herbert we’re home”. Tipped the chauffer, placed her Hoover Picture in the Cat House, came out, smiled at me, walked back into the Cat House, curled up, and promptly went to sleep. I liked the way that cat came home.
The next morning Sophia apologized for not leaving a note when she left, but left on such short notice, she just barely remembered to get the Herbert Picture before she left. Now it seems that Sophia was drafted by the NRCCC (National Republican Calico Cat Committee) to go to Massachusetts and get out the Red Cat Republican vote for Scott Brown. Being a card carrying member of NRCCC she didn’t feel she could turn ‘em down on such an important election. And so Sophia went to Massachusetts to send Mr. Brown to Washington.
It was a hectic week indeed for Sophia, Cameras and news reporters in her face every way she turned, asking dumb and dumber questions all day and night. Just waiting for one wrong word, just one wrong smile, one wrong finger movement at the wrong time. The cat prevailed.
Sophia took her message directly to the RCM Membership (Republican Cats of Massachusetts), the message was simple and easy to understand, and she spoke her message in a fluent New England Cat Dialect to each and every cat in Massachusetts, “Vote for Scott Brown and I’ll give ya a RC Cola and a Moon Pie”
Tuesday last, Massachusetts recorded the largest voter turnout in the history of the state for a special election. Some of the Democrats voted, some of the Republicans voted, some of the Independents voted. 100% of the Red Cat Republicans voted. The Red Cats accounted for only 6% of the total vote. But it was interesting to note that the final margin of victory for Scott Brown was 6%. Sophia taped an interview with Bill O'Reilly and was asked to come back from time to time to the O’Reilly Show. In light of Sophia’s ability to produce the Red Cat vote, I’m sure she’ll be asked to do more work for the NRCCC in the future.
Setting listing to the story, the 2girldogs were so impressed with Sophia they both asked for her autograph. She declined to sign, but shook their paw instead. Did ya ever see 2girldogs hug a Calico Republican Cat? They get along, those 2girldogs and that Calico Cat.
It turned out that when I was in Kentucky last week, it was at the peak of the White Winter Mushroom of the Mountain Season. These White Winter Mushrooms, (scientific name is Bianco fungo invernali della montagna) are unique to that part of the world much the way truffles are unique to parts of France, Spain and Italy.
The White Winter Mushrooms of the Mountains grow, amount other places, on the face of the rock carved out for highway construction many years ago. They vary greatly in both size and color. Some are as small as your hand, while others are much, much larger.
The White Winters are some of the most delicious of all the fungi family, the locals consider them better than truffles. ‘Course that’s the locals who have eaten truffles, and that’s few and far between. They can be added to most any dish for a unique flavor. The can be boiled, steamed, or even eaten raw. They grow in such abundance, and the season is so short, they are never sold at retail. Ya want some White Winter Mushroom of the Mountain, just go pick your own, they grow most everywhere in the mountains..
The White Winter Mushrooms do not keep well and in fact usually must be used within a short time after harvest. But they can be kept indefinitely in a freezer. Another advantage of the White Winter Mushrooms over most all other types of fungi is the ease of cleaning the mushrooms. Dirt can be washed off the White Winters easier than any other mushroom. Just dunk ‘em in water and the dirt just goes away.
They even say that the water left after boiling the White Winter Mushrooms has some sorta special healing effect on people. Now it’s not Moon Shine or anything like that, but it’s something, something special. Many people boil the White Winters just for the juice left over. Drink it for breakfast, or late at night. It’s even said to make ya sleep better. There have been stories of people even using the water to wash their body, particularly those parts that pain. They say this water from the White Winter Mushrooms will even remove warts come on from handling frogs.
Too bad, I didn’t have room or anything I could carry ‘em in else I’d have brought a whole trunk load. That’s the first time I’ve been in the mountains when the White Winters grow in a long time, a long time. Such pretty things to see, those White Winter Mushrooms, clinging to that stone mountain as if placed there by God himself, I believe he did, ya can just tell that’s not something anybody can do, stick those mushrooms on the rocks like that.
Most all my mushroom consumption comes from eating pizza. I’m not sure if the White Winter Mushroom of the Mountain works on pizza or not, never had it. Didn’t see any advertised in Salyersville, but come to think of it I didn’t see any pizza advertized in Salyersville either. Did see some advertising for chicken, but don’t think mushroom and chicken would work out, don’t sound good to me, but ya never know.
Speaking of eating, last Tuesday for breakfast at Shoney’s in Paintsville KY I had hot bologna, eggs and gravy, honest to God, HOT BOLOGNA EGGS AND GRAVY. Is that a cool breakfast menu or what? Just for that breakfast menu alone, ya gotta love Paintsville KY. Too bad it’s so far to go just for breakfast couple times a week.
Funny how life works out, on a day when I’m really down, and I know it’s gona be a hard, long, long day. Then I set down at Shoney’s Restaurant in Paintsville KY, 500 miles from home, and have Hot Bologna, Eggs, and Gravy for breakfast, the day is hard, the day is long, it’s extra long, but I started the day out right, I got thru, and the sun came up tomorrow. The magical powers of Hot Bologna Eggs and Gravy, when you’re hungry in the morning, can never be over stated, ‘cause that’s just the way things are.
Had two occasions this winter to sit in warm sunshine, Savannah GA and Salyersville KY. The former in joy the latter in sadness. In both instances the sunshine warms your soul. The soul healing power of sunbeams, it’s kinda God’s way of hugging ya in the day time, just so ya don’t forget who’s really in charge. Just think, turn the sun off and where ya at? DUH !
Don’t know if everybody has seen the White Winter Mushrooms of the Mountain, so I posted a couple pictures of them on my facebook page along with a specialized mushroom picker for the ones that grow really big.
In response to many email request to see Sophia the Republican Cat, the 2girldogs and the Angel, I’ve also posted a series of photos there on Facebook. In one of the photo albums you can look at the thing form the sea which now hangs in the East Wing Window looking south. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not eaten any of my dogs and cats, so far.
And just one last report on the demise of the Hornet Nation. I assume the hornets went underground, or wherever hornets go when winter comes. The one thing I do know is during the last three weeks the Blue Jays have dismantled the Hornet Nest. I’ve been watching with some interest as they actually land on the top of the nest and peck it apart. They’ll peck off a piece and fly away, I can’t tell if they eat the thing or just getting back at the hornets for being such mean little %$#@*&. I know one thing, I still don’t have the guts to peck it apart. I might be a hillbilly, but I learn fast when it comes to hornets. Just leave ‘em alone.
Thank you one and all for such an outpouring of kind thoughts on the passing of my dear Sister Thelma. It is with friends that hard times are shared, it somehow lightens the load.
As usual, your company in the East Wing this evening has been such a pleasure. I’m so glad you came by to visit. All too often we don’t visit enough, and things change, and then we can’t ever again.
Stay Safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, With a Happy Republican Cat, White Winter Mushrooms, Hot Bologna, Eggs And Gravy
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Sunday, January 17, 2010
From the East Wing, With a Mad Cat, Obama's Place in History, Dujmping on the Rappers, My Momma's "Cheers", Saying Goodbye To My Sister Thelma
¬Greeting to all and welcome new visitors to the East Wing,
Wow ! Didn’t know so many people have so many Black & White cats, and have so many pictures of their Black & White Cats. I’ve got enough cat pictures last week to do me for a while.
One thing was pointed out to me last week by a lady who’s in my office on a regular basis way, I didn’t tell ya ‘bout Miss Kitty’s thumbs. Yep, Miss Kitty’s got opposing digits that allows her to grasp things much the same way you and I grasp things. Now where we have only two opposing digits, Miss Kitty’s got four. She has thumbs one all four feet. It is not unusual to see Miss Kitty pick up things with her thumbs on her front feet, then set on her butt. In that position she looks like a penguin holding stuff.
Not only did Sophia the Republican Cat, get mad at me for talking so much ‘bout the office cats, she really got mad when the cat pictures starting coming in the email. Damn cat stomped ‘round the house for four day like she had a burr on her tail or something. She’s ok now, back working on her upcoming political campaign. Don’t know how she’s done it, but she’s got the 2girldogs, democrats all, and the Angel fired up and making campaign posters. I sure hope she don’t get the idea to hold a march in front of my house again, still don’t know how that cat was able to pull to wool over the marchers out of Chicago, but she did. And they did.
During the holidays, I had all my Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer stuff setting on the top of the printer in the East Wing. Last Sunday me and the she took down all our Christmas Decorations, and guess what. Sophia has sat on top of that printer ever since. She abandoned the back of my chair for the printer top. Of course I had to turn the screen so she could still see what was being said. (Damn Republican Cat)
Remember some time back, we were talking ‘bout the pyramids and how the current thought being that it took a 100,000 slaves working for 30 years or so to make one of those things, and I said if they elected me Pharaoh, that same day I’d tell the salves to stop working on somebody else’s pyramid and start working on mine, and I didn’t believe we know how those things were really build anyhow.
Well guess what, we don’t. Just last week information was published that brings into question all we have taken for granted about how these big piles of rock got stacked up. I’m telling ya, not only don’t we know how they got built, we don’t even suspect how they got built.
Now they’re saying it took only 10,000 men to build a pyramid and they were not slaves after all. Didn’t say how much they got paid but did say they ate 26 buffalo and 23 sheep a day. This new information is predicated on the findings of grave sites located in proximity of the kings. Guess if ya get buried with the kings, ya can’t be a slave, so ya gotta be buds with the Pharaoh to get a good spot.
Don’t know how they figured it out but there’s evidence that every day these pyramid builder ate 26 buffalos and 23 sheep. I think that was for lunch, they didn’t say anything ‘bout breakfast or dinner, but looks like they had lunch covered.
The only thing we ever built of such size and magnitude is the Hoover Dam and that took us 5 years and ‘bout 4000 men. Of course we had help from a little deal called electricity that made motors spin, and pulleys turn that lifted stuff and put it somewhere else. Handy little helper, that electricity. In the absence of electricity, what those pyramid builders needed most of all was good organization.
Too bad President Obama wasn’t there, he would’ve gotten the job for sure, after all his real claim to fame is a community organizer, ya know. Oh sure, he could have organized those old ancient Israelite slaves, ancestors of the Jewish people, to build the pyramids. Then the Israelites could’ve been the first ACORN Group. Why, I’d bet Obama could even get that first ACORN Group Health Insurance from the Pharaoh, with his community organizing skills and all. I’m sure he’d even get ‘em a living wage by unionizing the workforce into the APBE (Amalgamated Pyramid Builders of Egypt) which we all know was the forerunner of AFL/CIO. Maybe we’ve stumbled onto Obama’s rightful place in history. Too bad he missed it.
But on the other hand if he was there, that’d mean we’d be stuck with John McCain, and haven help us with that deal. I’m still trying to figure that one out, how John McCain ended up running for president. Any political party dumb enough to put John McCain as the presidential candidate deserves to lose. Even the hottie from Alaska couldn’t help his case.
There must have been some special deals or something that were never made public for John McCain to get in there. Wow! What a dumbo deal. It almost seemed to me the republicans sorta rolled over and played brain dead when it was time to choose a party candidate. The republicans would have been better off trying to get Hillary to flip. When the democrats put up the weakest candidate maybe in the last 100 years, ya gotta admit, this guy’s weaker than Jimmy Carter, and I voted for Carter. President Obama’s claim to fame is his ability to read. Nothing more, nothing less, and the republicans put up John McCain, an even bigger loser, and sure enough, McCain came through.
Still think the republicans would’ve had a chance to pull it out, had they jumped on the Vice Presidential Candidate when he uttered the big “M” word on national television. There should be a constitutional amendment to ensure that the word “Malarkey” is never spoken in a political campaign. I always thought Joe Biden was a joke even before he said “malarkey” on Meet the Press.
It’s interesting how certain words are accepted or rejected by society as a proper part of the language. Or in certain instances, where just a part of society accepts certain words within their own culture and condemns all other use of the words. Some of the current rap music is an example of what I’m talking ‘bout. There’re other examples too, just fill in your blanks on your own.
I don’t care what anybody says, if I typed the words from popular rap music as coming from the East Wing, well, for one thing, 1wife’d kill me for talking dirty like that, and for another thing, those of you who are kind enough to visit the East Wing on Sunday Evenings, well, ya would just never come back, and I couldn’t much blame ya. But not to worry, that’s not my style.
Might just as well say it right now, I don’t want any emails defending your right say such stuff like that in public. Be it rappers or crappers, I kinda put ‘em together, if you’re gona write music, use words that you wouldn’t be ashamed to read slowly in the presence of your mother and grandmother at the same time, and ask them if the words you just read are acceptable. Just that little benchmark would go a long way toward making this world a better place. If you’re ashamed to say it to your momma and grandma, don’t say it to your friends. I ’m not sure, but Joe Biden may even be a rapper, with that malarkey comment and all.
I do sometimes try to live the gospel according to BobbyRay. There has never been a single word uttered from the East Wing that I would be ashamed to let my momma read. In fact she does read it. Now my momma don’t do computers, she leaves that to me and Brother Ed, so I print her every letter from the East Wing. Sometimes she likes what I say, and sometimes she tells me what I should have said, but has yet to tell me I used “dirty words”. After all if your momma reads it………
Every time my momma reads my stories, I consider it a special gift from God, to be 65 years old and have my momma critique my writings. Momma’s not an easy sell, but we’ve know each other for a while and we get along.
My son John and I have lunch with Momma on Friday. Now it just worked out that due to holidays and going on vacation and bad weather, we’ve not taken momma to lunch since December 18th. She called me last week and said “This not going out for lunch on Friday is for the birds.” Didn’t ask if we were going to lunch or not, just said “who’s gona pick me up Friday, you or Johnny?” Last Friday Momma, Johnny and I had lunch at Richards of Toto, which is my momma’s favorite fine dining establishment in Northern Indiana. For Momma, it kinda like her “Cheers” where everybody knows her name, and they’re always glad she came. Richards of Toto, a nice place in downtown Toto Indiana.
Last Friday morning I received word my oldest sister, Thelma, passed away in her sleep. Sister Thelma had been ill for some time. When you read this I will be in Paintsville KY on Sunday Night. The wake is Sunday and Monday in Salyersville KY with the funeral on Tuesday.
I’ve always considered myself lucky to be born into a family of girls. I loved ‘em all, my sisters four. We are now Sharlotte, Barbara, Kay and me. I’m now down to sisters three.
Thelma was special sister of mine. My father was married twice. His first wife died at a young age. Thelma is a child of that marriage. Myself and my other three sisters are from my father’s second marriage. Now in some families such offspring have difficulties identifying who is what and where and when and stuff like that. Not so in my Family of Howard. There never was such a thing as half in my family. Half anything. Ya were either family or not. Up until just this past Friday, I had four sister. The last time I saw my Sister Thelma, she told me how glad she was that I was her brother. She called me BobbyRay. She was my sister, I loved her so.
Thelma was an interesting lady. She was a true “Kentucky Colonel”, this title having been bestowed upon her by the Governor of the State of Kentucky several years ago. She was very involved in the Magoffin County Historical Society for years, as well as many other civic, social and political involvements. Thelma was a Christian Lady who seldom missed church. Her father was a preacher, her grandfather was a preacher, she had seven uncles who were preachers, and so do I.
My sister was truly an old woman of the mountains, she spent most of her life in southeastern Kentucky. Her speech was constantly illuminated with remnants of the old English Language still lingering in the high mountains. Interesting to note, some believe the very last remains of the old English Language on the earth is not in England, rather the high mountains of southeaster Kentucky.
My Sister Thelma had the rare ability to put words on paper just the same as if she’s talking to ya. At first ya may think, well I can do that. Pick up the paper and pen, and guess what, it’s hard to start, ‘cause you’re stopping to choose your words differently than when ya talk. Ya think of a word and then change before ya write it down, and before ya can write that word, another word which may fit pops into your mind. Writing like ya talk is hard. Thelma could do that. I can only try.
Stay safe in Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, with A Mad Cat, Obama’s Place in History, Dumping on the Rappers, My Momma’s “Cheers”, Saying Goodbye To My Sister Thelma
I wish you well
BobbyRay
Wow ! Didn’t know so many people have so many Black & White cats, and have so many pictures of their Black & White Cats. I’ve got enough cat pictures last week to do me for a while.
One thing was pointed out to me last week by a lady who’s in my office on a regular basis way, I didn’t tell ya ‘bout Miss Kitty’s thumbs. Yep, Miss Kitty’s got opposing digits that allows her to grasp things much the same way you and I grasp things. Now where we have only two opposing digits, Miss Kitty’s got four. She has thumbs one all four feet. It is not unusual to see Miss Kitty pick up things with her thumbs on her front feet, then set on her butt. In that position she looks like a penguin holding stuff.
Not only did Sophia the Republican Cat, get mad at me for talking so much ‘bout the office cats, she really got mad when the cat pictures starting coming in the email. Damn cat stomped ‘round the house for four day like she had a burr on her tail or something. She’s ok now, back working on her upcoming political campaign. Don’t know how she’s done it, but she’s got the 2girldogs, democrats all, and the Angel fired up and making campaign posters. I sure hope she don’t get the idea to hold a march in front of my house again, still don’t know how that cat was able to pull to wool over the marchers out of Chicago, but she did. And they did.
During the holidays, I had all my Rudolph the Red Nose Reindeer stuff setting on the top of the printer in the East Wing. Last Sunday me and the she took down all our Christmas Decorations, and guess what. Sophia has sat on top of that printer ever since. She abandoned the back of my chair for the printer top. Of course I had to turn the screen so she could still see what was being said. (Damn Republican Cat)
Remember some time back, we were talking ‘bout the pyramids and how the current thought being that it took a 100,000 slaves working for 30 years or so to make one of those things, and I said if they elected me Pharaoh, that same day I’d tell the salves to stop working on somebody else’s pyramid and start working on mine, and I didn’t believe we know how those things were really build anyhow.
Well guess what, we don’t. Just last week information was published that brings into question all we have taken for granted about how these big piles of rock got stacked up. I’m telling ya, not only don’t we know how they got built, we don’t even suspect how they got built.
Now they’re saying it took only 10,000 men to build a pyramid and they were not slaves after all. Didn’t say how much they got paid but did say they ate 26 buffalo and 23 sheep a day. This new information is predicated on the findings of grave sites located in proximity of the kings. Guess if ya get buried with the kings, ya can’t be a slave, so ya gotta be buds with the Pharaoh to get a good spot.
Don’t know how they figured it out but there’s evidence that every day these pyramid builder ate 26 buffalos and 23 sheep. I think that was for lunch, they didn’t say anything ‘bout breakfast or dinner, but looks like they had lunch covered.
The only thing we ever built of such size and magnitude is the Hoover Dam and that took us 5 years and ‘bout 4000 men. Of course we had help from a little deal called electricity that made motors spin, and pulleys turn that lifted stuff and put it somewhere else. Handy little helper, that electricity. In the absence of electricity, what those pyramid builders needed most of all was good organization.
Too bad President Obama wasn’t there, he would’ve gotten the job for sure, after all his real claim to fame is a community organizer, ya know. Oh sure, he could have organized those old ancient Israelite slaves, ancestors of the Jewish people, to build the pyramids. Then the Israelites could’ve been the first ACORN Group. Why, I’d bet Obama could even get that first ACORN Group Health Insurance from the Pharaoh, with his community organizing skills and all. I’m sure he’d even get ‘em a living wage by unionizing the workforce into the APBE (Amalgamated Pyramid Builders of Egypt) which we all know was the forerunner of AFL/CIO. Maybe we’ve stumbled onto Obama’s rightful place in history. Too bad he missed it.
But on the other hand if he was there, that’d mean we’d be stuck with John McCain, and haven help us with that deal. I’m still trying to figure that one out, how John McCain ended up running for president. Any political party dumb enough to put John McCain as the presidential candidate deserves to lose. Even the hottie from Alaska couldn’t help his case.
There must have been some special deals or something that were never made public for John McCain to get in there. Wow! What a dumbo deal. It almost seemed to me the republicans sorta rolled over and played brain dead when it was time to choose a party candidate. The republicans would have been better off trying to get Hillary to flip. When the democrats put up the weakest candidate maybe in the last 100 years, ya gotta admit, this guy’s weaker than Jimmy Carter, and I voted for Carter. President Obama’s claim to fame is his ability to read. Nothing more, nothing less, and the republicans put up John McCain, an even bigger loser, and sure enough, McCain came through.
Still think the republicans would’ve had a chance to pull it out, had they jumped on the Vice Presidential Candidate when he uttered the big “M” word on national television. There should be a constitutional amendment to ensure that the word “Malarkey” is never spoken in a political campaign. I always thought Joe Biden was a joke even before he said “malarkey” on Meet the Press.
It’s interesting how certain words are accepted or rejected by society as a proper part of the language. Or in certain instances, where just a part of society accepts certain words within their own culture and condemns all other use of the words. Some of the current rap music is an example of what I’m talking ‘bout. There’re other examples too, just fill in your blanks on your own.
I don’t care what anybody says, if I typed the words from popular rap music as coming from the East Wing, well, for one thing, 1wife’d kill me for talking dirty like that, and for another thing, those of you who are kind enough to visit the East Wing on Sunday Evenings, well, ya would just never come back, and I couldn’t much blame ya. But not to worry, that’s not my style.
Might just as well say it right now, I don’t want any emails defending your right say such stuff like that in public. Be it rappers or crappers, I kinda put ‘em together, if you’re gona write music, use words that you wouldn’t be ashamed to read slowly in the presence of your mother and grandmother at the same time, and ask them if the words you just read are acceptable. Just that little benchmark would go a long way toward making this world a better place. If you’re ashamed to say it to your momma and grandma, don’t say it to your friends. I ’m not sure, but Joe Biden may even be a rapper, with that malarkey comment and all.
I do sometimes try to live the gospel according to BobbyRay. There has never been a single word uttered from the East Wing that I would be ashamed to let my momma read. In fact she does read it. Now my momma don’t do computers, she leaves that to me and Brother Ed, so I print her every letter from the East Wing. Sometimes she likes what I say, and sometimes she tells me what I should have said, but has yet to tell me I used “dirty words”. After all if your momma reads it………
Every time my momma reads my stories, I consider it a special gift from God, to be 65 years old and have my momma critique my writings. Momma’s not an easy sell, but we’ve know each other for a while and we get along.
My son John and I have lunch with Momma on Friday. Now it just worked out that due to holidays and going on vacation and bad weather, we’ve not taken momma to lunch since December 18th. She called me last week and said “This not going out for lunch on Friday is for the birds.” Didn’t ask if we were going to lunch or not, just said “who’s gona pick me up Friday, you or Johnny?” Last Friday Momma, Johnny and I had lunch at Richards of Toto, which is my momma’s favorite fine dining establishment in Northern Indiana. For Momma, it kinda like her “Cheers” where everybody knows her name, and they’re always glad she came. Richards of Toto, a nice place in downtown Toto Indiana.
Last Friday morning I received word my oldest sister, Thelma, passed away in her sleep. Sister Thelma had been ill for some time. When you read this I will be in Paintsville KY on Sunday Night. The wake is Sunday and Monday in Salyersville KY with the funeral on Tuesday.
I’ve always considered myself lucky to be born into a family of girls. I loved ‘em all, my sisters four. We are now Sharlotte, Barbara, Kay and me. I’m now down to sisters three.
Thelma was special sister of mine. My father was married twice. His first wife died at a young age. Thelma is a child of that marriage. Myself and my other three sisters are from my father’s second marriage. Now in some families such offspring have difficulties identifying who is what and where and when and stuff like that. Not so in my Family of Howard. There never was such a thing as half in my family. Half anything. Ya were either family or not. Up until just this past Friday, I had four sister. The last time I saw my Sister Thelma, she told me how glad she was that I was her brother. She called me BobbyRay. She was my sister, I loved her so.
Thelma was an interesting lady. She was a true “Kentucky Colonel”, this title having been bestowed upon her by the Governor of the State of Kentucky several years ago. She was very involved in the Magoffin County Historical Society for years, as well as many other civic, social and political involvements. Thelma was a Christian Lady who seldom missed church. Her father was a preacher, her grandfather was a preacher, she had seven uncles who were preachers, and so do I.
My sister was truly an old woman of the mountains, she spent most of her life in southeastern Kentucky. Her speech was constantly illuminated with remnants of the old English Language still lingering in the high mountains. Interesting to note, some believe the very last remains of the old English Language on the earth is not in England, rather the high mountains of southeaster Kentucky.
My Sister Thelma had the rare ability to put words on paper just the same as if she’s talking to ya. At first ya may think, well I can do that. Pick up the paper and pen, and guess what, it’s hard to start, ‘cause you’re stopping to choose your words differently than when ya talk. Ya think of a word and then change before ya write it down, and before ya can write that word, another word which may fit pops into your mind. Writing like ya talk is hard. Thelma could do that. I can only try.
Stay safe in Iraq and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, with A Mad Cat, Obama’s Place in History, Dumping on the Rappers, My Momma’s “Cheers”, Saying Goodbye To My Sister Thelma
I wish you well
BobbyRay
Sunday, January 10, 2010
From the East Wing with Miss Kitty and LIttle Brother, the Black & Whites of The Office
Greeting to all, and welcome new friends to the East Wing.
Like Dorothy said, “there’s no place like home”. So, so true. Me and the she had so much fun at Hilton Head Island, had such an enjoyable visit with our family. But like Dorothy said…….
Going to work last Monday was something special. The 2office cats required lots of attention to say the least. Now Miss Kitty, being the Office Queen, had to have her attention first, as all good queens should. I held Miss Kitty for about 45 minutes before she’d stop jumping back into my lap just as soon as I put her down on the floor. After Miss Kitty, came Little Brother’s turn and another 45 minutes of quality cat time. Ninety minutes into the work day and all I’ve done is talked with the cats. We told stories. They told me what happened in the little city while I was gone, I told them ‘bout the ocean, they didn’t believe my stories.
A special cat, Miss Kitty. Don’t think I ever told ya how my association with Miss Kitty came about. It will be 4 years next month, Feb 19th, that this cat walked into my life. Well, actually I walked into her life. “Cause ya see, the cat was in the process of dying. She’d used 8 of ‘em and was in the final stages of number 9.
It all started out with my son, John, coming to my office one late afternoon wanting keys to one of the building we use for storage. After getting the keys, a short few minutes later John comes back to my office telling stories of a cat with Rabies in the storage building. Now it being the middle of February, I’m thinking there may be more wrong with the cat than Rabies. We go to the building housing the Rabid Cat.
Lying on its side, in full convulsions is a little cat. Convulsions not from Rabies, convulsions of death. The cat had been trapped for 12 days without food or water in an unheated building during the coldest two weeks of winter. This cat is dying before my eyes.
Knowing that water is the key to survival for all living species, I offered the cat water the very first thing. The cat was too near death to know water. I flipped water into the cats face, and got no reaction, picked the cat up and dunked its nose in the water, got a reaction. I sat the cat down, it tried to drink and fell over on its side, again the convulsions started. I kneeled down held the cat with two hands while she drank the water of life for the first time in 12 days. After the water, I offered the cat food, she accepted the offer. After both water and food, the cat started to shiver. Now it’s not convulsions this time, its shivering. Shivering is nature’s way of trying to raise the core body temperature. It works the same be it cat or BobbyRay, ya get cold enough, ya shiver. Interestingly though the body uses the same technique if the inside body temperature is too hot, but that’s another story for another day, today’s a good cat story.
Looking around and spotting a 5 gal. plastic bucket, turning it upside down, it makes a good seat. Now it’s 15° out here with this cat, and I’m prepared, the cat’s not. I set on my new bucket seat, unzip my down filled coat and place the little cat inside where it’s warm. For 30 minutes on the bucket seat I’m praying to God “Please don’t let the little cat die this day” After a while I feel the cat start to move inside my coat. Soon the cats doing 360’s inside. The cat’s running ‘round me like a race track. I unzip the coat and out pops the cat as if nothing had ever happened. But inside the warm coat, cat magic had taken place and the kitten got all 9 of ‘em back.
For the first time I take the time to really look at the cat, she’s a Black & White. Black Face with white nose and mouth with a black chin. The very end of her white nose is black. Such a pretty cat.
By now it’s well past dark and time for me to go home. I’m thinking this is a pretty cat and she just got locked in our building by mistake, so I’ll leave the door open and she’ll go home.
Then next morning on the way to the office I’m gona stop and lock the door. The cat is setting in the doorway. It’s 10°, what ya gona do, I get the cat some water and more food, surly this cat will go home by noon.
When I checked at noon the water was frozen, so I got her fresh water and more food, hoping she would be gone by time for me to go home. When that time came I got her fresh water and more food, after all, even if it’s not your cat, ya can’t just let anything go without food and water as the temperature drops into single numbers. I’ll not bore you with the details, but we repeated that story line for three full days. I’m still thinking there’s a good chance this cat will go home soon.
On the 4th day when I go to feed the cat breakfast, she’s gone. The cat has left the building. The cat is gone. I lock the building, drive ‘round the block, park in my usual place near my office, walk up to the door. The cat is setting in front of my office door. I open the door, the cat walks in front of me into my office, looks first to the left then to the right, turns and looks at me, winks, grins, and says “I think this’ll be ok” From that remark, I concluded the cat was longer concerned about her future. Right then and there I thought she was kinda hinting ‘round that she wanted to be my cat, so I named her Miss Kitty.
Now Miss Kitty adapted to office live much faster than life on the street. Within the first hour of her arrival she acquired a private drinking and dining room plus private sanitation facilities along with custodial services.
In my office, Miss Kitty has grown and prospered. She has no interest in going outside, with the door open she will go over, stick her head out look up and down Lane Street, then back in the house. She now qualifies for the “Fat Cat” category. Some people seeing Miss Kitty for the first time assume she is pregnant. She is not. The issue of possible pregnancies was addressed quite some time back. Miss Kitty never had babies. Living with Miss Kitty is Little Brother.
When I parked my car for work on June 30th 2008, I spotted a really small kitten in the middle of Lane Street. It was early in the summer morning, I was the only moving car on Lane Street. My intensions were to pick up this little dirty cat and put it on the other sidewalk from my office. I just didn’t want the kitten to get killed right there in the middle of the little city. I walked over and picked it up. It was the most dirty cat I had ever seen, so dirty I had to look twice to see that it was a Black & White. It was little more than skin and bones. This little cat was as starved as it was dirty.
I thought “Oh well, the Lord wants me to feed this one breakfast” as I walked into my office. I expected Miss Kitty wouldn’t want this little piece of black & white trash around. I held the little cat as I got food and water, thinking Miss Kitty would slap it around just as soon as I set it down.
With both food and water in place I put the little cat on the floor, whereupon the little guy started his feast day. It was at this point one of the most precious things I’ve ever seen occurred. Miss Kitty walked over and within seconds started to groom on the little cat. The little cat was so starved he didn’t even notice Miss Kitty. As he had his fill, Miss Kitty washed. Finally, the little guy, with belly full, curled up and went to sleep, Miss Kitty continued to buff him up. I’m sure he had visions of sugar plumbs dancing.
Up to that day, Miss Kitty had spent most every minute of her day within arms reach of me when I was in the office. From the time I put the little cat on the floor she ignored me. When I left for the day, Miss Kitty didn’t even look my way, she had things to take care of, and babies to clean.
The next morning when I arrived, Miss Kitty was setting beside the little kitten, and he was as clean as Black & White. They were two perfectly groomed Black & Whites, One 2 years old and one a baby. It was at this point I named the baby, Little Brother, It just seemed right.
Little Brother is no longer the little guy. He can, and does often, lick the top of Miss Kitty’s head while both are standing upright. A big cat, that Little Brother, a gentle giant.
Late last summer, from out of nowhere, Little Brother decided he was now big enough so he would be the leader of the pack. Unprovoked he attached Miss Kitty in mortal combat. Now these two play all day long, but from the very first sound, I knew this was not play, this was war.
Miss Kitty retaliated with overwhelming shock and awe. The battle was joined. She bit Little Brother’s ear as he screamed and struggled to escape. He broke free and ran to the safety of the back room with Miss Kitty in hot pursuit. The second battle occurred outside my view, but the sound track was loud and clear. When Little Brother came flying from the back room, cat blood was now on the white part of his black & white, and it’s not Miss Kitty’s cat blood. Miss Kitty caught up with and jumped Little Brother right ‘bout where the battle started just moments earlier. She continued to bite his ear.
Little Brother broke loose for the third time and ran for safety under the couch, with Miss Kitty right behind. As Little Brother dived head first under the couch, Miss Kitty jumped up on the couch and started something I’d not seen before. She started making noises I’d never heard from a cat. Miss Kitty was cussing him out in cat. This cat tongue lashing continued for ‘bout 3-4 minutes.
Finally Little Brother stuck his head out from under the far side of the couch, looking much like the little guy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In slow motion, Little Brother came from under the couch, and crawled upon the far end of the couch away from Miss Kitty. All the while Miss Kitty continues her discussion ‘bout the law, and the enforcement there of. As a guy just watching the show, it seemed as if Miss Kitty was saying “I let ya into my house, I can take ya out”
Again in slow motion, Little Brother makes his way ever so slowly toward Miss Kitty. With his ears laid back in a total submissive pose, he gets within touching distance. The foul cat cussing stops just as quickly as it began, and Miss Kitty turns her attention to Little Brother’s wounds. She licked his ears. The war was over.
The final battle score was Miss Kitty 3, Little Brother 0. There may be a time when these two will fight again, but I doubt it, ‘cause cats remember for a long time. In the years to come, Little Brother may well be able to predict upcoming changes in the weather by the pain in his ears.
Miss Kitty and Little Brother, pretty office cats, my Black & Whites.
Seems I read somewhere that thousands of years ago the ancient Egyptians revered cats as Gods. The cats never forgot. Anyone who’s ever met Sophia, the Republican Cat of the East Wing, will surly agree, the cats never forgot.
Stay safe in Afghanistan and Iraq
From the East Wing with the Miss Kitty and Little Brother, The Black & Whites of the Office.
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Like Dorothy said, “there’s no place like home”. So, so true. Me and the she had so much fun at Hilton Head Island, had such an enjoyable visit with our family. But like Dorothy said…….
Going to work last Monday was something special. The 2office cats required lots of attention to say the least. Now Miss Kitty, being the Office Queen, had to have her attention first, as all good queens should. I held Miss Kitty for about 45 minutes before she’d stop jumping back into my lap just as soon as I put her down on the floor. After Miss Kitty, came Little Brother’s turn and another 45 minutes of quality cat time. Ninety minutes into the work day and all I’ve done is talked with the cats. We told stories. They told me what happened in the little city while I was gone, I told them ‘bout the ocean, they didn’t believe my stories.
A special cat, Miss Kitty. Don’t think I ever told ya how my association with Miss Kitty came about. It will be 4 years next month, Feb 19th, that this cat walked into my life. Well, actually I walked into her life. “Cause ya see, the cat was in the process of dying. She’d used 8 of ‘em and was in the final stages of number 9.
It all started out with my son, John, coming to my office one late afternoon wanting keys to one of the building we use for storage. After getting the keys, a short few minutes later John comes back to my office telling stories of a cat with Rabies in the storage building. Now it being the middle of February, I’m thinking there may be more wrong with the cat than Rabies. We go to the building housing the Rabid Cat.
Lying on its side, in full convulsions is a little cat. Convulsions not from Rabies, convulsions of death. The cat had been trapped for 12 days without food or water in an unheated building during the coldest two weeks of winter. This cat is dying before my eyes.
Knowing that water is the key to survival for all living species, I offered the cat water the very first thing. The cat was too near death to know water. I flipped water into the cats face, and got no reaction, picked the cat up and dunked its nose in the water, got a reaction. I sat the cat down, it tried to drink and fell over on its side, again the convulsions started. I kneeled down held the cat with two hands while she drank the water of life for the first time in 12 days. After the water, I offered the cat food, she accepted the offer. After both water and food, the cat started to shiver. Now it’s not convulsions this time, its shivering. Shivering is nature’s way of trying to raise the core body temperature. It works the same be it cat or BobbyRay, ya get cold enough, ya shiver. Interestingly though the body uses the same technique if the inside body temperature is too hot, but that’s another story for another day, today’s a good cat story.
Looking around and spotting a 5 gal. plastic bucket, turning it upside down, it makes a good seat. Now it’s 15° out here with this cat, and I’m prepared, the cat’s not. I set on my new bucket seat, unzip my down filled coat and place the little cat inside where it’s warm. For 30 minutes on the bucket seat I’m praying to God “Please don’t let the little cat die this day” After a while I feel the cat start to move inside my coat. Soon the cats doing 360’s inside. The cat’s running ‘round me like a race track. I unzip the coat and out pops the cat as if nothing had ever happened. But inside the warm coat, cat magic had taken place and the kitten got all 9 of ‘em back.
For the first time I take the time to really look at the cat, she’s a Black & White. Black Face with white nose and mouth with a black chin. The very end of her white nose is black. Such a pretty cat.
By now it’s well past dark and time for me to go home. I’m thinking this is a pretty cat and she just got locked in our building by mistake, so I’ll leave the door open and she’ll go home.
Then next morning on the way to the office I’m gona stop and lock the door. The cat is setting in the doorway. It’s 10°, what ya gona do, I get the cat some water and more food, surly this cat will go home by noon.
When I checked at noon the water was frozen, so I got her fresh water and more food, hoping she would be gone by time for me to go home. When that time came I got her fresh water and more food, after all, even if it’s not your cat, ya can’t just let anything go without food and water as the temperature drops into single numbers. I’ll not bore you with the details, but we repeated that story line for three full days. I’m still thinking there’s a good chance this cat will go home soon.
On the 4th day when I go to feed the cat breakfast, she’s gone. The cat has left the building. The cat is gone. I lock the building, drive ‘round the block, park in my usual place near my office, walk up to the door. The cat is setting in front of my office door. I open the door, the cat walks in front of me into my office, looks first to the left then to the right, turns and looks at me, winks, grins, and says “I think this’ll be ok” From that remark, I concluded the cat was longer concerned about her future. Right then and there I thought she was kinda hinting ‘round that she wanted to be my cat, so I named her Miss Kitty.
Now Miss Kitty adapted to office live much faster than life on the street. Within the first hour of her arrival she acquired a private drinking and dining room plus private sanitation facilities along with custodial services.
In my office, Miss Kitty has grown and prospered. She has no interest in going outside, with the door open she will go over, stick her head out look up and down Lane Street, then back in the house. She now qualifies for the “Fat Cat” category. Some people seeing Miss Kitty for the first time assume she is pregnant. She is not. The issue of possible pregnancies was addressed quite some time back. Miss Kitty never had babies. Living with Miss Kitty is Little Brother.
When I parked my car for work on June 30th 2008, I spotted a really small kitten in the middle of Lane Street. It was early in the summer morning, I was the only moving car on Lane Street. My intensions were to pick up this little dirty cat and put it on the other sidewalk from my office. I just didn’t want the kitten to get killed right there in the middle of the little city. I walked over and picked it up. It was the most dirty cat I had ever seen, so dirty I had to look twice to see that it was a Black & White. It was little more than skin and bones. This little cat was as starved as it was dirty.
I thought “Oh well, the Lord wants me to feed this one breakfast” as I walked into my office. I expected Miss Kitty wouldn’t want this little piece of black & white trash around. I held the little cat as I got food and water, thinking Miss Kitty would slap it around just as soon as I set it down.
With both food and water in place I put the little cat on the floor, whereupon the little guy started his feast day. It was at this point one of the most precious things I’ve ever seen occurred. Miss Kitty walked over and within seconds started to groom on the little cat. The little cat was so starved he didn’t even notice Miss Kitty. As he had his fill, Miss Kitty washed. Finally, the little guy, with belly full, curled up and went to sleep, Miss Kitty continued to buff him up. I’m sure he had visions of sugar plumbs dancing.
Up to that day, Miss Kitty had spent most every minute of her day within arms reach of me when I was in the office. From the time I put the little cat on the floor she ignored me. When I left for the day, Miss Kitty didn’t even look my way, she had things to take care of, and babies to clean.
The next morning when I arrived, Miss Kitty was setting beside the little kitten, and he was as clean as Black & White. They were two perfectly groomed Black & Whites, One 2 years old and one a baby. It was at this point I named the baby, Little Brother, It just seemed right.
Little Brother is no longer the little guy. He can, and does often, lick the top of Miss Kitty’s head while both are standing upright. A big cat, that Little Brother, a gentle giant.
Late last summer, from out of nowhere, Little Brother decided he was now big enough so he would be the leader of the pack. Unprovoked he attached Miss Kitty in mortal combat. Now these two play all day long, but from the very first sound, I knew this was not play, this was war.
Miss Kitty retaliated with overwhelming shock and awe. The battle was joined. She bit Little Brother’s ear as he screamed and struggled to escape. He broke free and ran to the safety of the back room with Miss Kitty in hot pursuit. The second battle occurred outside my view, but the sound track was loud and clear. When Little Brother came flying from the back room, cat blood was now on the white part of his black & white, and it’s not Miss Kitty’s cat blood. Miss Kitty caught up with and jumped Little Brother right ‘bout where the battle started just moments earlier. She continued to bite his ear.
Little Brother broke loose for the third time and ran for safety under the couch, with Miss Kitty right behind. As Little Brother dived head first under the couch, Miss Kitty jumped up on the couch and started something I’d not seen before. She started making noises I’d never heard from a cat. Miss Kitty was cussing him out in cat. This cat tongue lashing continued for ‘bout 3-4 minutes.
Finally Little Brother stuck his head out from under the far side of the couch, looking much like the little guy caught with his hand in the cookie jar. In slow motion, Little Brother came from under the couch, and crawled upon the far end of the couch away from Miss Kitty. All the while Miss Kitty continues her discussion ‘bout the law, and the enforcement there of. As a guy just watching the show, it seemed as if Miss Kitty was saying “I let ya into my house, I can take ya out”
Again in slow motion, Little Brother makes his way ever so slowly toward Miss Kitty. With his ears laid back in a total submissive pose, he gets within touching distance. The foul cat cussing stops just as quickly as it began, and Miss Kitty turns her attention to Little Brother’s wounds. She licked his ears. The war was over.
The final battle score was Miss Kitty 3, Little Brother 0. There may be a time when these two will fight again, but I doubt it, ‘cause cats remember for a long time. In the years to come, Little Brother may well be able to predict upcoming changes in the weather by the pain in his ears.
Miss Kitty and Little Brother, pretty office cats, my Black & Whites.
Seems I read somewhere that thousands of years ago the ancient Egyptians revered cats as Gods. The cats never forgot. Anyone who’s ever met Sophia, the Republican Cat of the East Wing, will surly agree, the cats never forgot.
Stay safe in Afghanistan and Iraq
From the East Wing with the Miss Kitty and Little Brother, The Black & Whites of the Office.
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Sunday, January 3, 2010
From the East Wing, at Hilton Head Island, Ghosts of Savannah, Digging up Bones, Buying Pullets, and A Happy Repbulican Cat
Greeting to all and welcome to the second week of the mobile East Wing
When ya go to Hilton Head SC and don’t play golf, it’s like you’re in Las Vegas and not playing at least one slot machine. So me and John played the Royal Port Course. It was a fun time. Any time ya can play golf with your son, it’s a fun time.
The good thing ‘bout playing golf with John is we have equal skills in the game. I’m not saying we’re good, I’m not saying we’re bad, I’m just saying we’ve got equal skills at playing golf.
It was on the 4th hole when John hit the shot that qualifies him to be in the golf Hall of Fame. Not for distance, or accuracy, or hole in one, or anything like that. John hit himself on the top of the head as a direct result of his contact with the ball. The ball did not bounce off a tree or anything like that. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life, John struck the ball with his club. The golf ball went straight up, not at an angle, just straight up. So straight up it could have been launched by NASA.
One thing I’ll say for John, he immediately remembered that the laws of gravity would ultimately determine the direction of travel for the ole golf ball. He took safety measures to the best extent he could, he put his hands over his head. Gravity won over the balls attempt at orbit, and the ball also won, as the golf ball hit the only uncovered part of the top of John’s head. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen on a golf course, but what I loved most of all was my son’s first comment, “That was a humbling experience” he said. I’m glad John plays golf with me, we have equal skills ya know.
Last Wednesday me and the she, Johnny and Jaime, got up early and went to Savannah for the day. We did the tourist thing. Road the trolleys, while touring the historical section of Savannah. The trolley system is kinda cool, for one flat fee, get on and off all day long, stop at any time just catch the next trolley.
The single most spectacular site of the whole day was the visit to Saint John the Baptist Catholic Church. This church has, in recent years, undergone a $12,000,000.00 renovation, and it shows. Saint John the Baptist has been likened to the Sistine Chapel made forever famous due to a really cool pain job by a fellow named Michelangelo.
Michelangelo already had a job when this church painting job opened up. He was invited to submit an example of his work to the Vatican for evaluation.
Michelangelo was so put out by the thought that anyone would have the nerve to ask him to submit example of this work for evaluation that he took a blank canvas, and with one single motion drew a circle. Sent the canvas to Rome. Those in charge of evaluating the works of current artists who had submitted stuff, dismissed
Michelangelo at first, until upon a closer look it was determined he had not only drew a circle on canvas, but upon measuring determined, that he had drawn a perfect circle with a single stroke of the brush. Based on the circle, Michelangelo was chosen to paint the church, then spent several years laying down on the job.
Michelangelo was one of those few people who can go through both life and history with just one name. Few can do that. Now Obama may, but it remains to be seen which side of history he will put him. I do know where Sophia the Republican Cat wants to put him, it has to do with continents not history, but that’s a different story.
Michelangelo did have a last name, it was Buonarroti. I think he used to hang out with the likes of Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael. Now these three guys were kinda jealous of each other, and probably each one thought they were better than the others, and just hung out together to make sure they always knew what the others were doing.
Almost forgot to tell ya, Michelangelo, besides that circle and church painting job made a really big statue of one of the good guys from the bible. David, made him 14 ft tall and no clothes on. Must have wanted him to be in warm places. It’s kinda cool to think that while Michelangelo was sculpturing that 14 ft David without britches, Leonardo de Vinci was painting the Mona Lisa with a dress, and the world was left never wondering about David but wondering ‘bout Mona Lisa.
Michelangelo was perhaps the greatest influence on western art in the last five centuries, Michelangelo was an Italian sculptor, architect, painter and poet in the period known as the High Renaissance. He is considered one of the great masters of European art. Michelangelo spent most of his working life in the service of the Catholic Church. He designed the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. That’s the church the Pope uses, so I guess they wanted it to look nice.
Too bad we don’t have many, if any, Michelangelo’s around today, Lord knows we could use ‘em. But maybe just as well, ‘cause if we did, sure as shooting, we’d get a Statue Czar. But I think the church painting jobs would somehow be slipped under the table to that ACORN group.
Seems it’s hard for even Michelangelo to get away from “Chicago Style Politics” ‘cause I don’t think he’d get along well with one of those Statue Czars. He’d have to draw another circle, and I understand he don’t draw those circles for just any Tom, Dick, or Obama.
Another interesting site on the tour of historic Savannah was a cemetery used from the early 1700’s to 1853. The Union Army used this sacred ground to pitch tents and make camp when they came to visit Savannah. Not only did they occupy the cemetery, they also desecrated many of the tomb stones in place. Many others they just busted them up with hammers or pushed them off their base. Examples of such desecration exist today. Dates of birth and death were changed on tomb stones. It seemed to me, that even the hell of war, could not justify such action on the part of the Union Army. They weren’t fighting those dead folks lying at that cemetery in the center of Savannah . (Damn Yankees)
Two very interesting grave sites stood out in my memory. The first being one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and the second being the great, great grandfather of Teddy Roosevelt. I’ve a friend who’s a big fan of Teddy Roosevelt. As I stood by that grave site, I thought of him, and how much he would enjoy seeing what I was looking at.
For lunch that day we went to the Pirate House, been there since 1754 and was the inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson’s “TREASURY ISLAND” They say that many a drunken soul were whisked out of Pirate House through hidden tunnels and put on to sailing ships setting a block away on the Savannah River. By the time the ole boy woke up with a headache, it was way too late to get back to shore. Pirates seldom if ever volunteered for that line of work. As luck would have it, I met a pirate there at Pirate House, I asked him to say it, and he said Aaaarrrrgggghhhh! Gotta love that pirate talk.
After dark that Wednesday, we took the Ghost and Graveyard Tour, (just another way to get your money, and it works) It was fun. Didn’t see any ghost, just heard the ghost stories, but I could have told that. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking ‘bout coming home and documenting some “Ghostly Tails of Starke County Trails” and having my own Ghost & Graveyard Tours of Starke County. We got lots of old haints in Starke County. I’m sure ghosts abound throughout, it’s just a matter of digging up bones and telling the stories.
Did ya know that Savannah GA is the 4th largest container ship harbor in the country? Well don’t feel bad, ‘cause I didn’t either. I watched ship after ship move up the Savannah River. Ya can’t appreciate the size of those container ships till you’re within a stone’s throw, and I really do mean a stone’s throw to one of those things. I could a hit ‘em with a rock. I didn’t.
Tug boats with such grandiose names as Mighty Mouse, Mr. Push-a-Lot, Little Big Boy, and Bubba, nudge millions of tons of cargo and ships around the Savannah River as if they were feathers floating on the waters of time.
It’s Saturday morning and I’m coming home. Hate to say it but I miss the cold country, and yes I miss the Republican Cat and the 2girldogs. We’ve had so much fun visiting with my family, but all good thing must surly end.
For the last time, this morning we all go down to the sea side for the final visit to the ocean. The wind is blowing as I walk to the water’s edge. Me and the she walk hand in hand leaving foot prints on the sand, We take pictures, of me and she, of Johnny and Jaimie as they take pictures of me and she. I’m tempted to take off my shoes and walk one more time in the Ocean Atlantic but I don’t. With a little feeling of sadness I turn my back to the ocean and walk into the cold morning wind form the west. And so it is with Hilton Head Island and BobbyRay, we part company this 2nd day January 2010, but friends for life.
Now some three hours into the journey toward the East Wing, I wish I’d taken off my shoes and felt both sand and water one more time. It’s just not the same on the beaches of Lake Michigan, or the Bogus.
Spanish Moss hangs heavy in the Live Oak Trees this morning as we reverse our steps of last Sunday from Atlanta to Savannah. As we turn west at Savannah, I’m excited that this section of the trip is going to be in the daylight. Last Sunday night I wanted to see what was on the sides of the road, Today I’ll see.
It’s cotton !! Lots of cotton. When we first came upon the cotton fields, west of Savannah, I almost thought the snow of the cold country had come to Dixie. It didn’t, just balls of cotton everywhere. The cotton fields ran west some 40 miles or so and then the land gradually turned more hilly covered with pine trees. Now Interstate 16 is lined with pine trees on both sides. An undulating canyon of pine.
Somewhere between Macon and Atlanta we pull into a very non descript truck stop along the way, we go into a Wendy’s, it staffed by people who don’t give a damn ‘bout themselves or the customers, and I’m the latter. The quality of their personal appearance, work ethic, and final product just seems to add to the overall ambiance of the place. I never knew him personally, but I bet Dave Thomas would not have been pleased with the way his Wendy’s is being operated, out there, along the way.
One of the sideline joys of interstate travel is traffic jams. You’d think there’d never be traffic jams on the big roads. Not the case, right now I’m twenty miles from Atlanta and moving less than 20 mph. But all is not lost at this slow pace ya get to look things over. I see a pink Mary Kay Cadillac with licenses which read “Pink4me” I also see the left headlight of a 1989 Ford Pick Up Truck held in place with Duct Tape. Good stuff, that Duct Tape. It holds headlights when called upon to do so.
Atlanta on a Saturday Afternoon, the first Saturday Afternoon in 2010, is a pleasant drive thru, don’t know why but it is. This is the first time in a long time, no downtown traffic in Atlanta. Now maybe, they too are still so happy the Ohio State University won the Rose Bowl, they’re all home still celebrating. But there could also be other reasons for the low traffic volume in downtown Atlanta this day. Go Buckeyes!
Chattanooga, a neat word, I’m sure it means something in some long dead Indian language, but for today, it just means the big city on the Tennessee / Georgia State Line, with Nashville 120 miles in front of me. It’s gas & go just inside Tennessee and it’s north bond ‘n down. I don’t care what anybody says, I’m gona eat supper this evening at a Cracker Barrel, and after that, I’m gona buy me a new ceramic chicken.
I don’t think I told ya ‘bout my chickens, lots of chickens, big chickens, ceramic all and most have been purchased at Cracker Barrels across the country. One neat thing ‘bout buying ceramic chickens from different parts of the country, they all cluck in different dialects. Those Brooklyn Chickens ya gotta hear to believe.
Nashville nights are a lot different than Nashville days. Drive into the city lights and out without so much as stopping to say hello Nashville.
‘Bout a hundred miles south of Louisville while the road runs to the northeast, the moon rises in a cloudless sky. I always enjoy looking at the moon as it rises. The moon always looks much larger when it’s just over the horizon. We all sing “Back Home Again in Indiana” as we cross the Ohio River Bridge. It’s good to be back home again in Indiana. Half way to Indianapolis it’s gas & go. The Indiana capital at night looks much the same as Nashville TN except Indianapolis it’s flat and Nashville is not.
Forgot to tell ya, the Cracker Barrel was good. Got two blue and white ceramic chickens. Little chickens they are. I think they are pullets or something, they’re salt and pepper things. This is the first time I’ve had working chickens. All my other chickens are much like the 2girldogs, they just lay ‘round a lot. These may be democrat chickens like the 2girldogs.
As we come upon Lafayette, home of the Purdue Boiler Makers who did not win the Rose Bowl this year as did the Ohio State Buckeyes, It’s just a hop skip and jump to my beloved East Wing, a long hop but a hop none the less.
It’s good to be home in the East Wing, it’s 2:15AM Sunday Morning ,we left the sea side this yesterday at 9:00AM. It’s been both a long and fun day. What a trip!
The 2girldogs are so happy, Sophia the Republican Cat is laying on my shoulders, the white Angel is lying at my feet. The 1wife is asleep. It’s a cold, cold night in Indiana.
Thank you for riding along on my trip home today and yesterday, we’ll have to go again sometime.
Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, At Hilton Head Island, Ghosts of Savannah, Digging up Bones, Buying Pullets, and A Happy Republican Cat
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
When ya go to Hilton Head SC and don’t play golf, it’s like you’re in Las Vegas and not playing at least one slot machine. So me and John played the Royal Port Course. It was a fun time. Any time ya can play golf with your son, it’s a fun time.
The good thing ‘bout playing golf with John is we have equal skills in the game. I’m not saying we’re good, I’m not saying we’re bad, I’m just saying we’ve got equal skills at playing golf.
It was on the 4th hole when John hit the shot that qualifies him to be in the golf Hall of Fame. Not for distance, or accuracy, or hole in one, or anything like that. John hit himself on the top of the head as a direct result of his contact with the ball. The ball did not bounce off a tree or anything like that. It was the most amazing thing I have ever seen in my life, John struck the ball with his club. The golf ball went straight up, not at an angle, just straight up. So straight up it could have been launched by NASA.
One thing I’ll say for John, he immediately remembered that the laws of gravity would ultimately determine the direction of travel for the ole golf ball. He took safety measures to the best extent he could, he put his hands over his head. Gravity won over the balls attempt at orbit, and the ball also won, as the golf ball hit the only uncovered part of the top of John’s head. It was the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen on a golf course, but what I loved most of all was my son’s first comment, “That was a humbling experience” he said. I’m glad John plays golf with me, we have equal skills ya know.
Last Wednesday me and the she, Johnny and Jaime, got up early and went to Savannah for the day. We did the tourist thing. Road the trolleys, while touring the historical section of Savannah. The trolley system is kinda cool, for one flat fee, get on and off all day long, stop at any time just catch the next trolley.
The single most spectacular site of the whole day was the visit to Saint John the Baptist Catholic Church. This church has, in recent years, undergone a $12,000,000.00 renovation, and it shows. Saint John the Baptist has been likened to the Sistine Chapel made forever famous due to a really cool pain job by a fellow named Michelangelo.
Michelangelo already had a job when this church painting job opened up. He was invited to submit an example of his work to the Vatican for evaluation.
Michelangelo was so put out by the thought that anyone would have the nerve to ask him to submit example of this work for evaluation that he took a blank canvas, and with one single motion drew a circle. Sent the canvas to Rome. Those in charge of evaluating the works of current artists who had submitted stuff, dismissed
Michelangelo at first, until upon a closer look it was determined he had not only drew a circle on canvas, but upon measuring determined, that he had drawn a perfect circle with a single stroke of the brush. Based on the circle, Michelangelo was chosen to paint the church, then spent several years laying down on the job.
Michelangelo was one of those few people who can go through both life and history with just one name. Few can do that. Now Obama may, but it remains to be seen which side of history he will put him. I do know where Sophia the Republican Cat wants to put him, it has to do with continents not history, but that’s a different story.
Michelangelo did have a last name, it was Buonarroti. I think he used to hang out with the likes of Leonardo da Vinci and Raphael. Now these three guys were kinda jealous of each other, and probably each one thought they were better than the others, and just hung out together to make sure they always knew what the others were doing.
Almost forgot to tell ya, Michelangelo, besides that circle and church painting job made a really big statue of one of the good guys from the bible. David, made him 14 ft tall and no clothes on. Must have wanted him to be in warm places. It’s kinda cool to think that while Michelangelo was sculpturing that 14 ft David without britches, Leonardo de Vinci was painting the Mona Lisa with a dress, and the world was left never wondering about David but wondering ‘bout Mona Lisa.
Michelangelo was perhaps the greatest influence on western art in the last five centuries, Michelangelo was an Italian sculptor, architect, painter and poet in the period known as the High Renaissance. He is considered one of the great masters of European art. Michelangelo spent most of his working life in the service of the Catholic Church. He designed the dome of St. Peter's Basilica in Rome. That’s the church the Pope uses, so I guess they wanted it to look nice.
Too bad we don’t have many, if any, Michelangelo’s around today, Lord knows we could use ‘em. But maybe just as well, ‘cause if we did, sure as shooting, we’d get a Statue Czar. But I think the church painting jobs would somehow be slipped under the table to that ACORN group.
Seems it’s hard for even Michelangelo to get away from “Chicago Style Politics” ‘cause I don’t think he’d get along well with one of those Statue Czars. He’d have to draw another circle, and I understand he don’t draw those circles for just any Tom, Dick, or Obama.
Another interesting site on the tour of historic Savannah was a cemetery used from the early 1700’s to 1853. The Union Army used this sacred ground to pitch tents and make camp when they came to visit Savannah. Not only did they occupy the cemetery, they also desecrated many of the tomb stones in place. Many others they just busted them up with hammers or pushed them off their base. Examples of such desecration exist today. Dates of birth and death were changed on tomb stones. It seemed to me, that even the hell of war, could not justify such action on the part of the Union Army. They weren’t fighting those dead folks lying at that cemetery in the center of Savannah . (Damn Yankees)
Two very interesting grave sites stood out in my memory. The first being one of the signers of the Declaration of Independence, and the second being the great, great grandfather of Teddy Roosevelt. I’ve a friend who’s a big fan of Teddy Roosevelt. As I stood by that grave site, I thought of him, and how much he would enjoy seeing what I was looking at.
For lunch that day we went to the Pirate House, been there since 1754 and was the inspiration for Robert Louis Stevenson’s “TREASURY ISLAND” They say that many a drunken soul were whisked out of Pirate House through hidden tunnels and put on to sailing ships setting a block away on the Savannah River. By the time the ole boy woke up with a headache, it was way too late to get back to shore. Pirates seldom if ever volunteered for that line of work. As luck would have it, I met a pirate there at Pirate House, I asked him to say it, and he said Aaaarrrrgggghhhh! Gotta love that pirate talk.
After dark that Wednesday, we took the Ghost and Graveyard Tour, (just another way to get your money, and it works) It was fun. Didn’t see any ghost, just heard the ghost stories, but I could have told that. As a matter of fact, I’m thinking ‘bout coming home and documenting some “Ghostly Tails of Starke County Trails” and having my own Ghost & Graveyard Tours of Starke County. We got lots of old haints in Starke County. I’m sure ghosts abound throughout, it’s just a matter of digging up bones and telling the stories.
Did ya know that Savannah GA is the 4th largest container ship harbor in the country? Well don’t feel bad, ‘cause I didn’t either. I watched ship after ship move up the Savannah River. Ya can’t appreciate the size of those container ships till you’re within a stone’s throw, and I really do mean a stone’s throw to one of those things. I could a hit ‘em with a rock. I didn’t.
Tug boats with such grandiose names as Mighty Mouse, Mr. Push-a-Lot, Little Big Boy, and Bubba, nudge millions of tons of cargo and ships around the Savannah River as if they were feathers floating on the waters of time.
It’s Saturday morning and I’m coming home. Hate to say it but I miss the cold country, and yes I miss the Republican Cat and the 2girldogs. We’ve had so much fun visiting with my family, but all good thing must surly end.
For the last time, this morning we all go down to the sea side for the final visit to the ocean. The wind is blowing as I walk to the water’s edge. Me and the she walk hand in hand leaving foot prints on the sand, We take pictures, of me and she, of Johnny and Jaimie as they take pictures of me and she. I’m tempted to take off my shoes and walk one more time in the Ocean Atlantic but I don’t. With a little feeling of sadness I turn my back to the ocean and walk into the cold morning wind form the west. And so it is with Hilton Head Island and BobbyRay, we part company this 2nd day January 2010, but friends for life.
Now some three hours into the journey toward the East Wing, I wish I’d taken off my shoes and felt both sand and water one more time. It’s just not the same on the beaches of Lake Michigan, or the Bogus.
Spanish Moss hangs heavy in the Live Oak Trees this morning as we reverse our steps of last Sunday from Atlanta to Savannah. As we turn west at Savannah, I’m excited that this section of the trip is going to be in the daylight. Last Sunday night I wanted to see what was on the sides of the road, Today I’ll see.
It’s cotton !! Lots of cotton. When we first came upon the cotton fields, west of Savannah, I almost thought the snow of the cold country had come to Dixie. It didn’t, just balls of cotton everywhere. The cotton fields ran west some 40 miles or so and then the land gradually turned more hilly covered with pine trees. Now Interstate 16 is lined with pine trees on both sides. An undulating canyon of pine.
Somewhere between Macon and Atlanta we pull into a very non descript truck stop along the way, we go into a Wendy’s, it staffed by people who don’t give a damn ‘bout themselves or the customers, and I’m the latter. The quality of their personal appearance, work ethic, and final product just seems to add to the overall ambiance of the place. I never knew him personally, but I bet Dave Thomas would not have been pleased with the way his Wendy’s is being operated, out there, along the way.
One of the sideline joys of interstate travel is traffic jams. You’d think there’d never be traffic jams on the big roads. Not the case, right now I’m twenty miles from Atlanta and moving less than 20 mph. But all is not lost at this slow pace ya get to look things over. I see a pink Mary Kay Cadillac with licenses which read “Pink4me” I also see the left headlight of a 1989 Ford Pick Up Truck held in place with Duct Tape. Good stuff, that Duct Tape. It holds headlights when called upon to do so.
Atlanta on a Saturday Afternoon, the first Saturday Afternoon in 2010, is a pleasant drive thru, don’t know why but it is. This is the first time in a long time, no downtown traffic in Atlanta. Now maybe, they too are still so happy the Ohio State University won the Rose Bowl, they’re all home still celebrating. But there could also be other reasons for the low traffic volume in downtown Atlanta this day. Go Buckeyes!
Chattanooga, a neat word, I’m sure it means something in some long dead Indian language, but for today, it just means the big city on the Tennessee / Georgia State Line, with Nashville 120 miles in front of me. It’s gas & go just inside Tennessee and it’s north bond ‘n down. I don’t care what anybody says, I’m gona eat supper this evening at a Cracker Barrel, and after that, I’m gona buy me a new ceramic chicken.
I don’t think I told ya ‘bout my chickens, lots of chickens, big chickens, ceramic all and most have been purchased at Cracker Barrels across the country. One neat thing ‘bout buying ceramic chickens from different parts of the country, they all cluck in different dialects. Those Brooklyn Chickens ya gotta hear to believe.
Nashville nights are a lot different than Nashville days. Drive into the city lights and out without so much as stopping to say hello Nashville.
‘Bout a hundred miles south of Louisville while the road runs to the northeast, the moon rises in a cloudless sky. I always enjoy looking at the moon as it rises. The moon always looks much larger when it’s just over the horizon. We all sing “Back Home Again in Indiana” as we cross the Ohio River Bridge. It’s good to be back home again in Indiana. Half way to Indianapolis it’s gas & go. The Indiana capital at night looks much the same as Nashville TN except Indianapolis it’s flat and Nashville is not.
Forgot to tell ya, the Cracker Barrel was good. Got two blue and white ceramic chickens. Little chickens they are. I think they are pullets or something, they’re salt and pepper things. This is the first time I’ve had working chickens. All my other chickens are much like the 2girldogs, they just lay ‘round a lot. These may be democrat chickens like the 2girldogs.
As we come upon Lafayette, home of the Purdue Boiler Makers who did not win the Rose Bowl this year as did the Ohio State Buckeyes, It’s just a hop skip and jump to my beloved East Wing, a long hop but a hop none the less.
It’s good to be home in the East Wing, it’s 2:15AM Sunday Morning ,we left the sea side this yesterday at 9:00AM. It’s been both a long and fun day. What a trip!
The 2girldogs are so happy, Sophia the Republican Cat is laying on my shoulders, the white Angel is lying at my feet. The 1wife is asleep. It’s a cold, cold night in Indiana.
Thank you for riding along on my trip home today and yesterday, we’ll have to go again sometime.
Stay safe in Baghdad and Afghanistan
From the East Wing, At Hilton Head Island, Ghosts of Savannah, Digging up Bones, Buying Pullets, and A Happy Republican Cat
I wish you well,
BobbyRay
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)