You know 'em ... you love 'em!

From Your Little Brother

When my brother was in the fifth grade, it was he that took me to my first adventure to school as I began first grade. We traveled quite an adventurous route through dangerous terrain from my “younger brother” perspective. We traveled down a set of railroad tracks jumping from railroad tie to railroad tie straight down the middle. This would have been 1963.

Wandering thoughts would drift to the stories our parents told of how dangerous it was to do this. What if my foot got caught in the rail or stuck under a railroad tie leaving me helplessly waiting for an on coming train? Visions of our neighbor across the street, that survived the loss of his arms up to his shoulders when run over by a train, came rushing into my brain.

We were supposed to cross over the tracks at a designated point, but I don’t ever remember him following the prescribed path. If there was a train resting on the track, we’d risk life and limb to scale the crumbling slopes underneath a small wooden bridge that supported the tracks. I don’t remember having much of a choice in regard to following my fearless leader. I could actually see the wheels of the train close enough to touch them seeing my own reflection on the shiny edges; but he would warn me that the train could move at anytime.

Once we crawled our way through to the other side, I recall always seeing a ledge along the top of a drainage concrete ditch through a cyclone fence. I’d remember some kind of story or rumor of a boy who slipped off that ledge and drowned in that very ditch. I envisioned him every time wearing a striped short sleeve tee shirt and shorts lying face down at the bottom.

Any doubts that I might have had in regard to following his lead were erased by his big ole “Jimmy” smile (full of confidence and assurance) and that outstretched fifth grader hand coaxing me to “Come on!” Safely on the other side of the tracks, we would walk along the back yard fences of people who lived next to the tracks.

Hopping over the peeled back corner of another cyclone fence attached to someone’s backyard we would stumble through a set of semi rusted trash cans. We’d then sneak pass the side of a worn out looking rental house toward our destination. Crossing over a street shaded with old trees led us over to the next street to where the crossing guard was located. She helped us safely across the busy four lane highway to our school.

The next year our parents made a decision to move south of Memphis out of the city schools to the county school system. A new school meant new adventures. We didn’t live across the railroad tracks from the school any more, but rather to its modern equivalent – across the interstate bridge.

I was, at this point, in the second grade and my brother was in the sixth. He was now taller, bigger and seemingly the brightest of any of his dumb friends. To me he seemed adult like. The school was about a mile from our home, so we walked or rode our bikes to get there.

Early each morning on our way to school, we would maze our way through the intersections of our neighborhood along the sidewalks. The crossing guard, who just happen to be our next door neighbor, would help us across the small highway; but not before she would complain to us about the kids further down the highway cutting across the two-lane. She would smile, greet us, stop traffic and have us walk our bikes across. Mounting our bikes as quickly as possible, we would dart straight toward the beaten path through the tall uncut grass that led us underneath the interstate bridge.

Beneath that bridge were huge slanted slabs of concrete leading up to the steel girders that supported the weight of the interstate traffic above. At the top of those slanted slabs was a platform of concrete tucked right below the bridge giving about four feet of head room between the steel girders. I could feel the vibration and hear the traffic above whizzing by with drivers on their way to work. Perched up there was like sitting on top of a tree overlooking the whole world from above. Graffiti left evidence that we weren’t the only ones to brave this adventure. Our parents explained to us that we weren’t supposed to go up there because it was dangerous.

Did our fearless leader lead us to safety? – Of course not. Parking our bikes or just laying them down in the overgrown grass, he would lead the charge scaling up the slant sideways. The best part was quickly scooting down the cement slide in order to not be late for school. We generally repeated it on our way back home after school. Mom had to put a lot of patches in the seat of our pants due to the fact that they simply couldn’t afford to buy us new ones. I’m sure she knew how those pants got so worn out.

After bedtime, I would occasionally sneak over to his upstairs bedroom to sleep and play around with my “big brother” before going to sleep. It was located right above our parents’ bedroom. He would tell me some crazy story and then tickle me afterwards. Somehow he could bring my favorite stuffed monkey (D.C. – Danny Civilized … named that because they called me “Dan, Dan, the monkey man”) to life. “Pop” (our dad) would mysteriously appear in the doorway to let us know that we were being too loud as we were jumping around. Flicking on the overhead light for a moment he would say “Settle down and go to sleep boys”, but he never would send me back to my bedroom. I’m sure he knew the value of our limited bonding.

Our family spent many good days and time together at Fairhaven Harbor growing up. Actually, we were at the lake water skiing, camping and swimming while Fairhaven Harbor was being developed. Mom and Pop tried their best and succeeded in providing for us wonderful memories of our childhood at the lake.

In later years, our little sister and I went to a different school than our big brother did, so I was never over shadowed by being “Beach’s little brother”. She unfortunately had to deal with being “Beach’s little sister” because of me at our school.

The ultimate and ever big brother grew up and left me when I was in the 8th grade. Often times for years afterwards it seemed that he still “left me when I was in the 8th grade”. I grew up too, but traveled a different road. As he liked to tell folks on a trip here to North Carolina a few years back, (tongue and cheek) “You see, you have to understand … my brother – he’s the white sheep of the family.”

We have had our own adventures in life that have brought about both joy and sorrow, successes and failures … both separately and together – with our families and each other. Despite the limited time, circumstances, and distance we have remained loyal to our love, care and concern for each other.

It’s always good “to hear from Jim”, my children’s favorite uncle and my only (and favorite) brother. It’s particularly good to hear that my brother is, as he puts it, “lucky”, but I might categorize it as “blessed”. Even a massive heart attach becomes an adventure for him. I am especially blessed (and lucky) to have him as my brother – I love you bro’.

To My Big Brother

Bien, el hermano mayor, yo estoy agradecido también. Yo no puedo imaginarme un mundo que no tiene usted en ello. Bueno, puedo, pero chupo. Usted siempre ha sido mi héroe. Su tiempo y la aceptación y el amor han ayudado color que soy. Usted es quién yo siempre deseo en mi rincón. Te quiero, el hermano mayor. Permanezca afortunado. Permanezca sano. Permanezca.

Serious as a Heart Attack

I've always considered myself lucky. Now, I can add to that: lucky to be alive.

After working overtime on the political conventions for about a year and then three weeks of 18-20 hour days during the Democratic and then Republican conventions, I took a week of vacation. Of course I went to FHH to relax and visit family. I should have known better. Every time I visit FHH something happens: a house burns up, a crime is committed or I have a kidney stone. My sister says I shouldn't think like that. It would jinx my visits. Well, now, it might be too late to ignore reality.

I spent most of the week goofing around, visiting, playing dulcimer and trying to find someone to cut my overgrown yard. Hurricane Ike passed over and knocked down a bunch trees and wrecked the marina pretty good. My boat came partially loose and lost a 24 foot long piece of aluminum strip on the port side. Someone had stolen the two new extra deck lines I had attached before the storm hit.

On Friday, I gave up and started on the yard work myself. I cut a bunch of saplings and vines on one side of the house. My neighbor (and FHH darts champion) saw me working and offered to let me dump everything on his burn pile. I wasn't over-doing it but, I was up to my neck in Poison Ivy and chickers and decided to call it a day.

I went in and showered, dried off and changed into some clean clothes. I talked to my sister on the phone a few minutes and was about to do a little light plumbing work on my bathroom sink and toilet.

All of a sudden I was sweating from head to toe for no apparent reason. Then my chest started hurting. It was like someone was standing on my chest. I felt a sharp distinct pain from under my left arm out to my elbow. If I was in a denial stage, it was only for a split-second. I have been a cop for over 30 years and attended at least that many First Aid/CPR classes. Those were the classic signs of a heart attack.

Knowing my environment and not feeling like a long explanation, I called my sister instead of 911. I had to add a caveat, "I'm not joking. I'm pretty sure I'm having a heart attack."

That's all it took. Within a few minutes my sister was there with an EMT in tow. Her office is right next to the Police and Fire Departments. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later. I'd made the right call. Everything after that was pain and an inability to breath.

What I remember was all in bits and pieces, the EMTs moving me over to the cart, trouble getting out the door, roof line, trees, sky and lights in the ceiling of the ambulance. On the way the older male EMT was having some type of medical problem of his own and was having trouble holding on as the ambulance negotiated all the curves and hills. The female EMT was holding my hand and telling the other one to just hold on, she'd take care of everything.

I was beginning to think I was on an episode of the Twilight Zone. I didn't know if she was concerned about me, the other EMT, or both when she yelled above the siren noise at the driver, "Faster! Drive faster now!" In my mind I could see the ambulance driver (Dan Akroyd) from the last scene of Twilight Zone the Movie, look back and say, "You want to go for a ride?"

The female EMT kept was giving me updates on how close we were to the hospital and told me to keep hanging on. Even through the pain and desperately trying to get air I could hear the panic in her voice. She apologized for not having any oxygen, that they really weren't a lot more than transportation. "Don't worry we have a police escort now, honey." Then she turned to the driver, "GO FASTER!"

I was trying to keep a positive attitude but, all this was not reassuring so far.

I don't remember the hospital emergency room. My mom and sister told me I was evaluated as having pneumonia and put in a room. Then "Dookie Howser" came in and looked at me. He over-ruled the older doctor and called in a Care Flight to take me to Little Rock. He figured out what I knew in the first minute. I had a heart attack. My mom had a few choice words for the first doctor.

I remember the helicopter and asking if my sister could come along. There wasn't room. As my gurney was loaded in I thought Landon, one of the guys at work, would love to take the ride. I always get him helicopter rides on details we work. Oh well.

I woke up the next morning in a hospital bed tied down with EKG lines, three IVs, a catheter, blood pressure cuff, a pump in my right leg, a B-tap (Forced oxygen mask) over my face and pulse monitor clipped over my right ring finger. There was a nurse with a small desk set up right next to my bed and I apparently now had two stints in my heart.

I was told that I had a very serious heart attack with 100% blockage on one side 80% on the other. Everyone, staff, family and friends kept referring to it as a "Widow-maker." Very few people survive it.

I spent the next two weeks in the Arkansas Heart Hospital. The first full week was brutal, flat-on-my-back dependent on forced oxygen, IV pushes and lots of drugs. The nurses and staff we fantastic and constantly attentive. They all were shocked at my first diagnosis. They said I would have died up there and that I was very lucky I was finally helicoptered down to get proper treatment.

I agree. I am lucky. And, I lost 20 pounds!

Melinda

I was riding in the rear of a Union Pacific business car between Denver and Minneapolis, enjoying the scenery and playing my dulcimer, when a crazy little Jewish woman named Leslie asked me a pretty good question. What was my dulcimer's name? I didn't have an answer.

Most dulcimer players I knew, after their first student dulcimer, had picked out a special dulcimer for a long term relationship and soon given it a name. I should have said, given her a name, because I've only heard women's names given to dulcimers. It may be the majority of dulcimer players I've met are men.

Of course, I say majority are men but there are many, many women dulcimer players. They might even actually be the majority. It's just that I haven't asked their dulcimer's name. My bad.

In fact, it was a 13 year girl, named Cathy Morrison, that got me into dulcimers. I had attended a couple of Friday night music get togethers at Lonnie Lee's house in Fox, Arkansas. I was 16 years old and played guitar and mandolin, trying to keep up with the old-timers. The first time I saw her, she had a dulcimer in her lap, playing Barbara Allen along with the everyone else. I was just trying to keep up with the right chord changes and not doing a bang-up job of it. Cathy was wearing a colorful patchwork quilt dress that went down to her ankles and a white long-sleeve blouse with just a minimum of lace at the neckline. I thought I was in love.

She was married off to a 40 year old local farmer, who had quite a bit of acreage, before I got back to my parents' cabin in Fox the next summer. I didn't have a shot at all.

It did get me interested in playing dulcimer and a few years later I owned my first one. I have been playing ever since. In fact, I turned on a couple of my high school buddies to dulcimers and they are still playing to this day. I didn't name my first dulcimer either.

About 12 years ago I was in McSpadden's Dulcimer Shop in Mountain View, looking at dulcimers. Nothing caught my fancy. I wasn't really in the market for one and I really didn't have the money either. One of the clerks saw me monkeying with several instruments. I guess I was frowning at the results of my strumming. He came over and asked if I'd like to try out one of the dulcimers from behind the counter.

It felt like I was like buying a Rolex watch just off of Times Square. He looked around before he pulled one out and said, "Why don't you try out this baby for size." The way he talked about it in hushed tones, I got the impression he didn't show these to just any tourist walking into the store. They probably didn't. The ones on the display wall were pretty beat up. Tourists! They're messing it up for everybody. Especially the Yankee ones.

The moment I touched her, before I even strummed the first chord, I knew I had to have her. She was of matched dark walnut construction of the box, shapely and lovely in the classic hourglass design. She had a rosewood fretboard and rounded edge brass frets, a small ivory bridge and mother of pearl inlaid markers in the traditional style. Her polished chrome keys where like a woman's earrings and had matching pairs of heart shaped sound holes at lower waist and upper body. What was not to love at first sight?

The first note she produced for me was not a disappointment despite my anticipation. It was sweet nectar to the ear. The easiest touch of the strings to frets solidly held the notes. My hands and fingertips glided easily up and down her body. The harmonics came with just the lightest brush of her strings at just the right points.

I had to take her with me. I had no emotional detachment in which to negotiate a price. She was $430 before tax, retail. I paid it quickly in case the sales clerk saw my anxiousness and raised the price. Which I knew would have payed, whatever it was.

So, it comes back to this: I really didn't have an answer for why I hadn't named her. After all this time it seemed pointless. If a name doesn't come to you in the first week or so, it's not gonna happen. Or, so I thought.

I showed Leslie a little bit of music on the dulcimer. She sang a few tunes to which I roughly accompanied her. She has a most beautiful voice. However, I was getting a drowsy from the gentle rocking of the train and drifted off while Leslie strummed a few tunes herself on my dulcimer.

I was asleep only a few minutes but, I'd had an awfully long and detailed dream. I woke and announced that my dulcimer's name was Melinda. And, that she asked me why I'd never asked her what her name was? Apparently we had been acquainted for quite some time before I acquired her at McSpadden's. Leslie just looked at me with astonished face with her mouth wide open, "All that in a 5 minute nap?"

Out of that dream came some answers. Also, the entire story of our long relationship. A melody and words rushed around in my mind. I had this entire song, except for a few minor details, as soon as I woke. I wrote the words down and worked out the music that night with Melinda.

Here it is:


Melinda

I had a dream; I was about ten years old.
When it all happened, I really don’t know.
I met a girl, such a girl and we became friends.

She skipped off, with her daddy in tow.
Glanced over her shoulder and then dropped her bow.
I’m in heaven, in heaven, that she’d even look at me.

Chorus:
She smiles at me and I can’t see –
anyone else. It’s love to me.
Her voice is so sweet: I don’t hear the words.
Her voice is so sweet: I can't hear the words.

I grew old, had fights with the kin.
Died in battle and paid for my sins.
I was lost. I was lost and wasted much of my soul.

A hundred years later I had a blood on my face.
She was a nurse, took me in - kept me safe.
I was evil, almost evil. ‘though married, she made me well.

Chorus

Then I was a horse, seventeen high.
She was my mistress and together we’d ride.
Everyday. Everyday. All of that redemptive life.

Chorus

As a tree she grew, for a very long time.
A musician cut her down, to make a very fine –
dulcimer for someone. For someone like me.

Chorus

She in my lap on the back of a train.
“My name’s Melinda. Why have you never asked my name?”
Melinda, oh Melinda, it’s your voice, your sweet voice,
not your words, that have kept me sane (and)

Chorus

She smiles at me and I can’t see –
anyone else. It’s love to me.
Her voice is so sweet: I don’t hear the words.
Her voice is so sweet.

Eye of Hurricane Ike Winks Over FHH

Early this morning at about 4:10 am the eye of the mighty Hurricane Ike passed over FHH. The sudden calm after the storm of high winds and advancing rain bands that knocked out electricity in most of Rugburn and Van Halen Counties, was like the surrender of Germany after Eisenhower's assault on Europe in WWII. Hopefully, as with Germany, economic aid will be coming shortly that will revitalize the area into a one known for its exceptionally well crafted automobiles.

Damage was widespread and seemed to effect everyone in the community. "I was horrified," said longtime resident Martha Delante'. "I didn't know what was going to happen to me. The lights went out. I couldn't get out of my bed and the blinds blew off the window, the rain pouring in on me. It was horrible."

Her neighbor Jamie Pulnap ran next door as soon as the storm subsided, "I knew Mrs.Delante' was trapped. She has gained a little weight in the past decade and hasn't been able to move from her bed in over 6 years."

The FHH Fire Department responded quickly, pulling some of it's volunteers from a three car pile-up on Dan Creek Parkway. "They was stupid enough to be joy-riding roller-coaster hill with a 65 mph cross-wind: we can take our time cutting them out," said FHH Fire Chief Skip "Short Order" Chef. "Anyway, we just picked up the blinds off the floor and closed the window. It took six of us to help Mrs. Pulnap change the sheets. Whew, that weren't no pretty sight but, we got 'er done."

Rain poured in sideways and the wind whipped the trees like an illegitimate stepson. Everyone had damage. "They was limbs and leaves everywhere. It took me over an hour to clean off my deck. It's really hard to get them acorns out of the cracks in the deck," said Jimmie Joe Johnson. "I'd had it done sooner but, all I had was a little pink kitchen broom from the Dollar General store."

Power is still out in some areas of FHH. Mike "Big" Johnson (no relation to Jimmie Joe) with Jean Petty Power and Light said it may be this afternoon before all power is back online. "One of our boys, a new guy who started two days ago, got a little over eager and was trying to do a little preventive trimming of large branches near the main transformer. He successfully cut out a large limb that was right over our main power line into FHH. However, the limb took out the line and the power grid spiked. It cut off electricity all the way to the other side of Hillery."

No deaths were reported in the area. The three teenagers in the pile-up at the bottom of roller-coaster hill were examined by 17 local EMTs. They were released to go home and explain the lack of family vehicles to their parents.

The mayor's office is writing a contractor bid sheet to have the branches and leafs removed from the city hall parking lot. "We expect the city to be up and running by the end of next week," said Mayor Adolf Sharing, "FHH is a resilient town. It takes more than a hurricane to knock off our feet."

Hurricane Ike as seen from the top of Sugarbread Mountain.

From the Fairhaven Harbor Harbinger and Highlights (FHHHH), Sept. 14, 2008, page 1, reporter Joe Mamasophat.

Arkansas Constitutional Amendment on November ballot

Family Traits?

I just found side-by-side photo comparisons interesting.

Mile High Ta' Molly!

We just got back from Colorado today. Ta'Molly and ReeRee went with me on a week long business trip to Denver. I had to make a couple of visits to people in Boulder which is right up against the Rockies and home of the University of Colorado.

I asked Ta'Molly if she'd like to go there. "Do they have a good girl's basketball team? What have they won?"

It is a beautiful campus. Most of the university buildings and dorms have red terracotta roofs.

I arranged for Ta'Molly to take a glider ride up into the Rockies from Boulder. Her mom about freaked out. She tried to talk Ta'Molly out of it and almost succeeded.

I decided it wasn't time to tell her about my sister's skydiving experience. On her supposed first jump the skydiver that left the plane just before her, the chute did not open and she fell to her death. Beth decided not to jump.










When Ta'Molly saw the young woman in the tiny pull-plane position on the runway and the 18 year old kid who looked 12 that was her pilot, she had a few reservations.










Once the plane started pulling the glider, Ta'Molly was already taking pictures.

The plane circled above the airport several times to gain altitude and then headed out over the Rockies to release the lightweight huge wingspread white glider to the winds.










After about 30 minutes of flight on its own, the graceful gull swept down to a smooth landing right in front of ReeRee and I. Ta'Molly had a huge grin on her face. I ran out to meet her as she jumped out of the cockpit. Before I could ask her how she liked the flight she almost shouted out, "Are you going to let me take lessons?"









I guess I am.

FHH Summer on the Lake 2008

If a picture is worth a thousand words, then here are 6000 words.

Smilin' Lambee

She was only 50 cents, on sale 75% off at the Dollar General store up on the highway. Ta'Molly loved her form the moment she spotted her in my hand. I guess a girl never out-grows a cute little stuffed animal. I wish we had better light when we did this. We were at our house in FHH just chillin', Ta'Molly on the couch playing with the camera and me sitting across from her making Lambee dance when the Smilin' Bob commercial came on. Poor quality but, it makes her laugh every time she sees it.