The Trouble With Percy Sledge

When my wife and I found out that the legendary Percy Sledge would be appearing in our area, we knew we had to go see him.  It would be New Year's Eve, 2008, at the Choctaw Casino in Pocola, Oklahoma, only about 20 minutes away.  Percy's great hit song, When A Man Loves A Woman, was a favorite, and the chance to see him sing it in person was too good to pass up. 

Percy was slated to go on at 11:00 PM, so we were in no particular hurry that night.  We arrived at the casino around 10:00, figuring we would kill some time playing the slot machines while we waited for the show to begin. 

But when we got to the casino, which lies just past the border between Arkansas and Oklahoma, we saw that the parking lot was unusually full.  In fact, technically, we ended up parking in Arkansas and walking to Oklahoma.  Literally, since the newest parking lot was across the state line.  But we found one of the few remaining parking places, and walked in the freezing cold to the casino, to play some slots.  We thought.

As you might suspect, EVERY single slot machine was in use.  We walked around for a few minutes, searching, then finally decided we would just find the stage area where Percy was going to appear and wait there.  We found it, but it, too, was packed.  The few rows of chairs that had been set up on the gaming floor were already full, and a larger standing room only crowd had already assembled.  So, we took our place among the hapless throng of standees and prepared to wait for the next 45 minutes.

But then, about 20 minutes into the wait, a disturbance erupted.  A lady somewhere in front of us collapsed, falling onto the casino floor with a resounding "fluff."  I would have said "thud," but the carpeting made it actually sound more like a "fluff" than a "thud."  The people closest to the catastrophe, my wife and I included, began to motion for casino security to come quickly.  They came, making their way through the standing throng, and knelt down next to the poor woman, who was conscious but definitely not chipper.  As they dragged her to her feet, somewhat reluctantly it seems in hindsight, and carted her off, my wife and I noticed that her previous and now vacant standing point was located conveniently next to the side of a slot machine, which would offer a place to rest one's back at least.  So, while our neighbors were still buzzing about the recent events, we covertly began to make our way over to the prime real estate next to the haven of the slot machine.  Soon, we were ensconced in the best "seats" remaining in the house, thanks to what I assume was an inadequate blood sugar level of the previous occupant.   That's the breaks.

Finally, Percy was introduced.  He had a nice combo of musicians with him, along with back-up singers, and sounded great, especially considering his age of 68.  Not only did he sing his classic hit When A Man Loves A Woman, but also nailed his other hits like Take Time To Know Her, The Dark End of the Street, and My Special Prayer.  At midnight, when the new year of 2009 rolled around, and the whole casino raucously celebrated, Percy even called his wife on his cell phone from the stage, since he normally celebrated with her.  Or tried to call, at least; I don't think the call ever went through, because he tried for about five minutes to place it. 

Then, the show resumed for some more great Percy Sledge songs.  My wife and I, leaning comfortably against the side of our slot machine, were enjoying it tremendously.  But then, something caught my eye.  Something barely visible, yet disarming.  Something so discordant that it instantly zapped my attention away from the great music, so that I could focus on only this one thing and nothing else.  Something that was beginning to freak me out.

As Percy sang, he was putting his all into it.  When he hit the high notes, he hit them with every muscle in his body, from the top of his head to the soles of his feet.  And that included his facial muscles.  So, as he neared the end of his performance, I began to detect a bit of color that didn't seem to belong.  I wasn't sure, it was so tiny, just a little spot of color that I could make sense of.  There it was again, when he hit that last note.  What is that?  What am I seeing?

And then, I realized what it was.  It was Percy's right eyelid.  His face was contorting so that, when he hit certain notes, his right eyelid was turning up on its edge, and then staying there.  The dude was singing with his eyelid flipped over. 

When I was a kid, we had a guy at church who would do that; intentionally turn both eyelids inside out and walk around like that, just to freak people out.  And it worked.  So, that memory securely tucked into my subconscious mind, seeing the great Percy Sledge popping that eyelid out freaked me out all over again.

I looked around to see if others were noticing; perhaps someone else would faint.  Perhaps I would faint; I wasn't sure, but my enjoyment was waning the more I looked at that eyelid.

Then, Percy sang his last song, which happened to be a reprise of When A Man Loves A Woman.  The song was so great that it caused me to overlook the eyelid thing and just enjoy the great performance that I was witnessing.  It was after 1:00 AM, and time to go home.

But as we were leaving, some of the crowd had thinned out, and my wife saw a vacant slot machine.  "I want to try that one, " she said, and I, figuring it was already late, knew an extra 30 minutes or an hour wouldn't matter any way, agreed.  She sat down at the machine, put two dollars in it, and before her initial investment was gone managed to hit it for $1,256.50.  Literally within minutes.

So, we get taken back to the cashier to collect her winnings.  Which they give her in cash, of course, along with paperwork for the IRS.  But the good news is, since it is now 2009, we don't have to declare those winnings for an entire 12 months!  During which time, of course, I lose the paperwork for the IRS, and have to go back to the casino 12 months later to get a copy, which costs me $40, which is the amount I put in a slot machine while I'm there to get the paperwork.  But, as I said, that's the breaks.

And of course, our tax man happens to be one of our deacons at church, so we have the somewhat awkward situation of explaining to him that we are turning in $1,256.50 of additional income as my wife's gambling winnings, and he, as an accountant, has to ask if we possibly have some gambling losses to turn in which would balance out the winnings, so we end up having a long conversation about our gambling prowess or lack thereof with our church deacon.  But we really just went to see Percy Sledge, you know. The win at the slot machine was kind of an accident. 

I didn't mention my $40 to him.

Whatever Happened to Little Pearl?

This post is based on an article that appeared in the Feb. 11, 1979 edition of The Southwest Times Record newspaper.  The author of the story was historian Walter H. Watts.  This story is familiar to may long-time residents of Waldron.

It was Friday morning, October 19, 1923.  The little community of Tate was located between the Scott and Logan County line, in the remote White Oak Mountain region of Arkansas. 

Lynn Turner was a sharecropper.  He was out cutting firewood with two of his five children, Rosa and Ruby, when little three-year-old Pearl came out to where they were working.  Lynn told his two daughters to take Pearl back to the cabin so she wouldn't get hurt.  Rosa and Ruby gathered up a handful of wild huckleberries and bribed Pearl to follow; she did, and the girls left her in the front yard of the cabin and went back to help their father.  They left little Pearl sitting on a tree stump, eating the huckleberries. 

No one would ever see her again.

When the family gathered for the noon meal, Lela, Lynn's wife, asked, "Where is Pearlie?"  Only then did the family realize that Pearl was missing.  Leaving their infant son with Nola, Lela's unmarried sister, the family began a frantic search.  They soon found tracks in the dirt road leading to White Oak Mountain, two miles away.

More tracks appeared along the road nearer to the mountain, and at the base of the mountain, where the tracks stopped, lay a little hankie that Rosa had made from a flour sack for Pearl that morning.  It would be the last piece of physical evidence of little Pearl ever found.



Lynn and Lela Turner in 1969.  They died wondering.

Frantic by now, Lynn rode to the home of hid landlord, L.P. Wilson, and requested help in organizing a search party.  Before dark, a posse of more than 25 men led by Sheriff Allen of Scott County arrived and began searching the area where the last tracks were found.  With darkness approaching, and the temperature dropping, Lela Turner searched frantically with the posse, crying, "Oh, my poor baby- out there in the dark and cold.  Please find her!"

The long night passed with no trace of little Pearl.  At dawn, more volunteers from Waldron arrived, and by noon, volunteers from Booneville showed up to help with the search.  Sheriff Allen lined the men up 20 paces apart and told them to march forward, searching the entire area carefully. 

All day, volunteers arrived on horses, in wagons and buggies, and on foot, to help with the search. 

The Sunday edition of the Southwest American newspaper in Fort Smith carried the front-page headline "SCORES JOIN HUNT FOR LOST MOUNTAIN CHILD."  Monday brought more searchers from Fort Smith and Oklahoma.  One man arrived in a Model T Ford, which was the first car the Turner children had ever seen.

From Booneville, a man named Walker arrived with bloodhounds, and Lela Turner was beside herself with joy.  "I dreamed about you!" she told him.  "You're the man I saw find my baby in a dream last night!   I'm going to stay with you until you find her." 

The hounds, however, were unable to pick up any scent, and and Sheriff Allen advised Walker to call them off.

That night, the mountain looked like a giant Christmas tree, with lights from campfires scattered across the slope.

The next day, trucks furnished by OK Transfer and Storage Company in Fort Smith arrived, carrying Boy Scouts of America, Boy Rangers of Arkansas, and new camping supplies for the searchers.  More wagon loads of supplies and searchers continued to arrive over the rough mountain road.  A wagon loaded with groceries and supplies arrived, bearing a placard that read "From The Ku Klux Klan of Mansfield, Arkansas."

The search dragged on for days.  The cold weather, and the hungry packs of wolves that lingered around campsites drawn by the smell of food diminished all hope.  Lynn and Lela Turner searched along with the volunteers until they were forced by exhaustion to return to their cabin to rest.

On Sunday, October 28, services were suspended in all area churches in Waldron and Booneville and a call was made for more searchers.  Repeated searches with no success led most of the searchers to believe that Little Pearl had been kidnapped.

Frustrated by failure, the attitude of the searchers changed to sullen suspicion.  Muttering groups of searchers assembled in the Turner's yard began to demand that the Turners tell what they had done with the child. 

Others pointed a finger of suspicion at a community resident known as "Preacher," the leader of a small religious group.  He had been at the cabin throughout the search, but never joined in with the searchers, choosing instead to sit on the porch.  He was known to be fond of Pearl.  The sheriff was urged to arrest him for suspicion, but Sheriff Allen was too busy with the search to do it. 

By the third week of the search, people began coming out of the woodwork.  A fortune teller arrived in a car from Hot Springs, telling Lela Turner she would help locate the child.  In a vision, she saw the child being held captive in a home in the community.  A posse was dispatched to the designated home, but the child was not there.  Then, the fortune teller said that Pearl was being transferred from house to house by the kidnappers.  The posse searched every house in the Tate community, but did not find Pearl.  The uproar, however, caused even more people to turn against the Turners.

It was discovered that, on the morning Pearl had disappeared, a man had visited the Turners at the cabin and had then proceeded on foot on the road toward the mountain.  When this became known, it turned many neighbors who had been kind and concerned into an angry mob.  The man, of course, was never seen again. 

From Magazine Mountain 20 miles to the east, an eccentric mountaineer known as Hermit arrived with a report of having seen little Pearl.  Two days earlier, he said, he had seen Pearl, who he knew well, sleeping on a bed at the home of a man on the outer edge of the mountain community.  On the basis of this report, the man, his wife, and their 17 year old son were arrested as material witnesses.  When Hermit failed to appear at the hearing, the family was released.

Nothing was known of Hermit's background except that he had appeared in the mountains as a wandering poet and writer of songs, which he delighted in teaching to the small children of the community.  

From Malvern came a report of a man and a woman passing through in a covered wagon with a child fitting the description of Pearl.  The Hot Springs County Sheriff sent a posse to intercept the couple, but they were able to produce proof that the child was theirs.

From Hodgens, Oklahoma came word of a couple passing through with a child that also matched the description of Pearl.  The man, it was reported, told people at a grocery store that they had found the child wandering in the woods near Waldron and, believing her to be abandoned, had taken her with them.  A Leflore County posse was sent out to look for the couple, but after a week of searching, returned to report no trace of the mysterious couple.

Another report came from the owner of the Atalee Hotel on Garrison Avenue in Fort Smith, who told of a man with a little child fitting Pearl's description staying at the hotel, then catching a train to Oklahoma. 

In a strange development, Lela Turner was taken secretly to Fort Smith to spend the night at the home of the Matron of the Missouri Pacific train depot.  The matron had engaged two clairvoyants to interview Mrs. Turner.  They assured Lela that the child was well, happy, and would return in due time.  On the return trip home, Lela told two companions that she felt at peace about Pearlie for the first time.

On November 8th, the Southwest American ran the headline "MISSING TURNER CHILD REPORTEDLY FOUND IN OKLAHOMA."  A child abandoned by an itinerant construction worker at a boarding house in Picher, Oklahoma was believed to be Pearl.  The man had shown up at the boarding house the week of Pearl's disappearance, telling the owner that the child was his daughter Elizabeth.  The owner, seeing that the child fit the published description of the missing girl, asked the child her name.  "Elizabeth," she replied, "but it used to be Pearl Turner."  The child went on to tell the woman that she used to live in a place where "the hills were all covered with trees."  She left, she said, "when a man and a nice lady" promised her candy, a new dress, and stockings if she would go with them.  The owner of the boarding house contacted her local sheriff, who contacted Sheriff Allen in Waldron. 

Sheriff Allen was getting a haircut at a barber shop in Waldron when he received the telegram.  "Whoops!" he shouted.  "Little Pearl is alive!"

The little girl thought to be Pearl Turner

The wave of gladness that through the community was short-lived however.  When Lela Turner was shown a newspaper photograph of the child in Picher, she said, "It looks kind of like her, but it's not my Pearl."  When the man called Hermit saw the picture, however, he said, "No doubt about it, that's little Pearl."  The manager of the Artelee Hotel in Fort Smith also identified the child as the one that had stayed at his hotel. 

Meanwhile, the drifter who had abandoned the child at the boarding house in Oklahoma was arrested, and when questioned, maintained that the child was his daughter Elizabeth, and that he had left her to await the arrival of her mother to pick her up.  This proved to be false, since it was soon discovered that his wife had been dead for three years. 

Under further questioning, it was discovered that the man had been in Fort Smith at the time of Pearl's disappearance.  To further cloud the issue, he had in his possession the license plate of the Fort Smith clairvoyant who had joined in the search for the child.  The man had no explanation for this curious detail, and it remains one of the inexplicable facets of the case.

Area citizens raised money to send Lela to Picher to see the child at the boarding house.  The Southwest American newspaper provided funds to send Hermit as well.  He told the newspaper that they would know for sure if the child was Pearl, because she would recognize him at once. 

Lela Turner and her oldest child arrived at Picher on the same train as Hermit.  However, Hermit was first to arrive at the boarding house.  When Lela and her daughter arrived, he was sitting on the porch of the boarding house with the child on  his lap.  When Lela and Rosa approached, Hermit asked the child, "What is your name?"  The little girl replied "It's Pearl Turner, and I have a little dog named Robbie."  Lela told Rosa to check the child to see if she had a scar on her rib cage, and Rosa did so, reporting that there was no scar.

"It's not my Pearlie," said Lela.  She left for the railroad depot to return to Arkansas.  Hermit, however, insisted that the little girl was Pearl, and that she sang a little chorus that he had once taught her. 

Lela Turner returned, heavy-hearted, to the little mountain community of Tate.  Hermit returned to his retreat on Magazine Mountain, still insisting the child in Picher was the missing Pearl.  Hermit remained on good terms with the Turners and continued to visit them as long as they lived in Tate.

On November 18th, the last headline about the Turner case appeared in the Southwest American; "NEW HUNT TO BE ORGANIZED IN HILL SECTION."  The proposed new search never materialized, however, and the Turner story disappeared from the newspapers just as little Pearl had disappeared into the White Oak Mountains.  One searcher, however, never gave up.  When winter came and the snows fell, hunters would often encounter Lela Turner wandering in the mountains, crying "Pearlie?  Pearlie?  Where are you?"

When spring came, the Turners left to share crop a farm near Booneville.  Later, they moved to Oklahoma, and then to California, where they remained.  Lynn Turner passed away in 1970, and Lela in 1973. 

Many questions remain about the disappearance of little Pearl Turner.  It is a mystery that will never be solved.

This is a retelling of the story written by Walter Watts that appeared in the Southwest Times Record newspaper.

 

 

Great Candy I Have Known

Another rerun, but one of my favorites...

Before we ever had to worry about calories and triglycerides and saturated fats, there was candy.  Not a lot, mind you; none of us were rich enough to have all the candy we wanted.  But, when we really needed it, there was candy.  A nickle or dime of our lunch money was often allotted to candy, and when we could spare it, a grocery delivery from Robert Davis' store often included something sweet.

Here are some of my all time favorite candy memories:

The Wowee Whistle.  These came out around Halloween each year.  They were made of wax, similar to the wax candy lips that you can still get.  You blew on the whistle until you got tired (a skilled musician could actually produce songs), then you chewed up the wax.  The wax was infused with a flavor similar to Beeman's gum, and was quite tasty.

The Black Cow was a chocolatey, caramel sucker similar to a Sugar Daddy but vastly superior in flavor. 

In a stroke of marketing genius probably covertly funded by America's tobacco industry, candy cigarettes were available in packages that looked just like Dad's smokes, and with names that were often similar.  The candy cigarettes tasted pretty bad, but they looked oh-so real. 

I could always count on my Aunt Addie to have a stick of Clove gum ready at church when the sermon started getting a little too long.  I was never a fan of Black Jack, but the flavor of Beemans is delightful, and Clove is probably the most unique flavor you'll ever taste in gum.  These gums are still available at Cracker Barrel.  I was never much of a gum chewer; I always felt that gum required too much of a commitment.  After all, with candy, you chew it up, enjoy it, and then move on.  With gum, you chew it up, enjoy it, but it just keeps hanging around.

As it turns out, my research reveals that astronauts probably never actually ate these, contrary to the advertising.  Space Food Sticks were a chewy concoction similar to a Tootsie Roll, but much softer.  They came in flavors like chocolate, butterscotch, peanut butter, vanilla, and others.  They were somewhat pricey, so we didn't get to have Space Food Sticks very often.

The Butter Nut bar consisted of caramel and peanuts surrounded by milk chocolate. It was not necessarily my all-time favorite candy bar, but it was a good go-to candy bar when you wanted something different.

Winner Suckers.  No, this picture is not an actual Winner Sucker.  Evidently, no photographic evidence of this great candy exists today.  But, it did look kind of like this, with its cluster of grapes on one side (it also came in a cherry flavor, although I never bought that version).  The other side of the sucker was flat, and if it had a little piece of tape stuck on it that said "Winner", you got a free sucker.  Not a bad investment for five cents.

Hot Toothpicks.  These cinnamon flavored toothpicks were popular because you got your money's worth for a nickel; enough hot toothpicks to last way past the time you finally got tired of them. 

Wacky Packages were wildly popular among the younger set back in the 1960's.  I include them here because you did actually get one stick of bubble gum with the package.  I usually gave the gum away (I've mentioned my commitment issues) and laughed hysterically over the cards, which featured popular products of the day with their well-known advertising slogans slightly altered to produce hilarious results.  There are several websites devoted to the vintage Wacky Packages of the 1960's and 1970's.

My candy bar.  The Mars Bar.  I ordered one at Burden's Candy Store each day during most of my school career.  Back then, you ordered what you wanted, there was no self-service.  You told the person working at the candy counter what you wanted, they retrieved it for you, and you paid them for it.  For some reason, I always told the clerk that I wanted "a Mars Bar with almonds," evidently under the erroneous impression that there was a Mars Bar without almonds.  The Mars Bar is no more; it has been replaced by the Snickers with Almonds. There is, of course, a Snickers without almonds, so be careful what you order.  (Update:  In the time since this blog entry was originally written, the Mars Bar has been reintroduced!)

Mallo Cups and Smoothies were made by the same company, Boyer's.  I never cared for Mallo Cups; a chocolate and coconut shell with marshmallow cream in the middle.  But Smoothies, that's different.  A butterscotch and peanut shell, with peanut butter in the middle...delicious!  Plus, there was a little card in each package that had an image of a coin.  You saved the cards, which had coins ranging from five cents up to fifty cents.  My sister Janet loved Smoothies, and she decided that she was going to collect enough coins (500 points worth) to send off for the prize, which incredibly was a box of Smoothies!  She saved every card, as we all did, and after a while, she had enough points.  She mailed her collection of paper coins to the company, and we could hardly wait until the box of Smoothies came in the mail.  After what seemed like an eternity, a package from Boyer's arrived.  With trembling hands, Janet carefully unwrapped the package.  Sure enough, it was a box of...no, it can't be...Mallo Cups!

When I'm Down, And Feeling Low, I Read My eBay Feedback

I love eBay.  I love it so much, in fact, that I have forced myself to make it cost neutral; I must sell something of equivalent value to cover my purchases.  I started out buying and selling View-Master reels.  (Insert appropriately condescending comments here.)  Then I ran across a large collection of Coast Guard Search and Rescue patches at a flea market that turned out to be a goldmine.  Now, I search eBay for old postcards of my hometown of Waldron Arkansas. 

Needless to say, I have successfully completed a number of both purchases and sales on eBay, and consequently have had quite a bit of feedback left for each transaction.  I am happy to report that my feedback score on eBay is 100% positive.  Nowhere else in life, with the possible exception of my two dogs, do I enjoy a 100% positive feedback rating.  So it is understandable that I, on occasion, visit my eBay feedback page, just to remind myself that I do in fact have some redeemable qualities; that I am honest, reliable, and by golly, an excellent shipper.

In 1998, ilovefilms described me as Top notch in my book.  Fast & friendly.  A pleasure to deal with.  Later that year, ladesco said Bill, thank you for the great view-masters...your quick response is impressive!!!  That's right.  Three exclamation points.  Shortly thereafter, No Longer A Registered User captured my essence succinctly:  Quick exchange; great item; great person!  Only one exclamation point, but from the heart, I think. 

Then, jgdg220 effused Ah!!!  Bill is best kind of eBay dealer!  Merchandise better than described!!!  I don't think I have to count the exclamation points there, you can see for yourself.  I can take no credit for the excellent quality of the merchandise, I didn't make it, I just described it.  Inadequately, evidently.  But nevertheless, a home run with jgdg220.  cinedux was less effusive, but still complimentary:  Pleasant honest trader.  Will deal with again.  That turned out to be an empty promise, but that's OK.  skycap later captured a characteristic overlooked by others:  Item as described.  Very fast transaction, informative seller.  Recommend highly!  That's me; I inform. 

Others became more personally involved in the transaction.  Fast shipment, great communication.  Love ya Bill - keep 'em coming said viewmasterlady.  melmc said Bill took great care with my item.  He was very responsive and kind.  That's just the way I am, melmc.  wildbillgaye also picked up on my innate goodness, with the simple Very kind and good at word. 

Some eBayers, probably on the rebound from some hurtful previous transaction, chose to compare me to other sellers.  lov2shop4mojo declared This was one of the most timely transactions I've had - Wonderful eBayer!! A+++.  Still greater praise came from bjricehawg, who said They don't get any better than this guy!!!!  I'm pretty sure he was talking about me and not himself.  topps55 summed it up best, I think, with the comment Wow, if only all eBayers were this good! 

And then, there are a few feedback comments that are notable simply due to their, shall we say, uniqueness; to their particular turn of phrase.  paisley beatle, in keeping with the spirit of her user ID, said Perfectly Positive..thanks so much for a fab transaction.  For cascade2, our online transaction took on its own reality, commenting Such a pleasure to meet!!  Great customer!  Recommend AAA++++!!!  2297653 No Longer A Registered User said Merchandise exactly as described!!  At our house, Bill's the One!!!  I must go there someday.  seawitch89 waxed poetic, saying Completed in the fashion of 'the way things should be'.  Very Good. 

Space does not permit me to share the comments from the likes of bbpoodles, beccasladybugacres, woody64, woodnfish, or levelord.  Suffice it to say, they all verified my excellent shipping record.  But cavemuseum, perhaps, gave me the highest praise:  It doesn't get any better than this, great transaction, a credit to eBay. 

So, when I'm long gone, my electronic feedback will remain, and all will know. 

I was a credit to eBay. 

I Ate A Bug (My Cincinnati Travelogue)

But I didn't eat one here.

Yes, I did.  Because when you talk big, you have to back it up.  That's the Law of the West.  I ate a lot of other things, too, which were all significantly more tasty than the bug.  It all happened last week.  So we depart, once again, from the normal pattern of happy and humorous reminiscences of my life growing up in little Waldron, Arkansas that you usually find on this blog, for another post from the present day.  What follows is a recap of the exciting week I just spent in the city that old Henry Wadsworth Longfellow called the "Queen of the West," Cincinnati Ohio.

The journey to Cincinnati was a long one, about 14 hours counting the stops at gas stations, McDonald's, and Cracker Barrel.  My travelling party consisted of myself, my wife Marilyn, my stepson Ross and his wife Maegan, and their little two-year old daughter Kate.  We were going to Cincinnati to visit my stepdaughter Laura, who is doing a fellowship at Cincinnati Childrens Hospital.  Plus, it was Spring Break, and since everyone else was going south, we decided to go north.

Eleanor in repose.

The long journey to Cincy, as we hipsters call it, was pretty uneventful.  We arrived late on Monday night, and were warmly greeted by Laura, as well as Eleanor, the World's Greatest Jack Russell Terrier.  Exhausted, we quickly found our beds, and rose the next morning to a delicious quiche that Laura had prepared for us.  The first of many great moments of epicureal delight.

Tuesday marked our first shopping excursion.  My family loves to shop, and sadly, I must include myself in that as well.  A few years ago, Marilyn and I were at some kind of timeshare sales pitch in Branson, and the lady conducting the meeting asked everyone present why they were in town.  The young couple to our right said that they loved to rock climb, and they were enjoying doing that in the beautiful Ozark Mountains.  The woman then asked the two ladies seated to our left, and one of them said, "We like to hunt."  Then, the woman in charge of the meeting looked directly at Marilyn and me, and said, "And what about you?"  For some reason, the words that immediately escaped my lips were, "We like to shop."  This created a bit of suppressed laughter in the room, and the lady conducting the meeting for some reason felt compelled to amplify my comments a bit.  "See there ladies," she triumphantly bleated, "there ARE some men who like to shop." 

Not one of my more triumphant moments.

Anyway, back to Tuesday.  Ross had researched for me the location of a Nordstrom Rack store, which turned out to be in the Rookwood Pavillion shopping center.  I have difficulty finding shoes in my size, and I had heard that Nordstrom carried a good selection.  Sure enough, I found a pair that fit me.  We went to a few other stores too, but since I had already made a purchase for myself, I was pretty much just going along for the ride.  It's all about me, you see.  Anyway, after some shopping, we decided to look for a place to pick up some lunch.   We settled on a nearby sandwich shop called Potbelly Sandwiches.  It was good.  Extremely good. 

After lunch, we headed back home to rest up, since we had not fully recovered from our 14-hour sojurn of the previous day.  When Laura got home from the hospital, she had in mind a destination for our evening meal.  A restaurant called The Senate.

The Senate is downtown, on Vine Street, in the area the locals call Over The Rhyne.  Laura had been here before with some friends, so she had already given us a bit of an idea what to order.  As our appetizer, we chose roasted marrow bones.  Yes, really.  You get two bone halves that have been roasted with garlic; you dip your spoon into the marrow and put a little bit on your toast along with some of the supplied cranberry sauce.  We all had some, although there isn't much marrow in the two little bone sections.  The marrow reminded me of the residue that might be left in a skillet after frying a steak.  After we had all experienced the bone marrow, it was time for the main course.  After carefully perusing the menu, I settled on the McSchnitzel.  This was a porkbelly sandwich with a glaze of carmelized onions and apples, and my friends, it was superb. 

On the way out of the Senate, while I was waiting for the others to come out, a nice gentleman struck up a conversation with me.  He asked me how the food was, reported that he himself had tried to get a job at the Senate but with no luck, asked me my name, and then proceeded to recite an impromptu poem about my name.  Being the country rube that I am, as he was reciting his poem, I wondered to myself if he was a bum.  I had never really seen a city bum before, so I was perplexed.  At the conclusion of his poem, another person walking by handed the poet some folding money, so I followed suit.  I gave him five dollars; I'm not sure what the going rate for poetry is now days.

Here are some pictures of our exciting first day in Cincinnati:

Nordstrom Rack in Rookwood Pavillion



A mighty fine sandwich shop.

The Senate Pub on Vine Street

Roasted marrow bones, with cranberry sauce and toast.

On Wednesday morning, after a late breakfast, we traveled north of Cincinnati up Interstate 71 to an outlet mall that Ross and Maegan had read about, the Tanger Outlet in Jeffersonville Ohio.  This day turned out to be much colder that the previous day, and windy.  Marilyn and I took Kate to the food court while Ross and Maegan shopped.  After a bit, we ventured out to a few shops with Kate, but by the time we hit the Disney store she was fast asleep in her stroller.  I tilted the stroller back so that her little head could lay against the back of the stroller, and kept her that way for the next two hours.  At one point, as we were walking along the sidewalk, big snow flakes began to fall.  Kate, who had stirred a bit, stuck her hands behind her back and went back to sleep.




Kate taking a break at the outlet mall.

By the time we left the outlet mall, Kate had seen the playground with the slide, which happens to be one of her favorite things.  She really wanted to slide, but we felt like the cold wind would not be good for the cough that she had developed, so, much to her disapproval, we left the outlet mall and headed to our next stop, IKEA.

I had never been to an IKEA store before, so it was quite an experience.  The only problem was, we had barely managed to get everything we brought with us loaded into the car in the first place, so any additonal purchases of large items was out of the question.  I did allow myself, however, a small lamp and a set of door stops.



Eli's Barbeque.  We parked in the back.

Laura was working nearby that day at the Liberty Township branch of Cincinnati Childrens, so she met us when she got off that afternoon.  Our destination for supper this time was Eli's, a barbeque place on the riverfront.  Another winner picked by Laura.  I had the pulled pork sandwich with slaw, baked beans, and a coke in a bottle!  Kate really enjoyed this place, constantly referring to the couple sitting beside us as "those kids."  She also broke into song, favoring the crowd with an impromptu version of the "I Love You" theme from Barney.  She also felt compelled to have us join hands and say grace not once, but twice during the meal. 

After Eli's, it was back to the house to bed.  I might mention that my bed for the week was a blow-up air matress that I found incredibly comfortable. 

Marilyn's Happy Place

As cold as it was Wednesday, Thursday was even colder.  Big snow flakes were again falling that morning as we left the house.  Our destination was downtown Cincinnati, and Marilyn's favorite store, Macy's.  She had visited this store in January when she helped Laura move in, so she was familiar with how to navigate the parking garage downtown.  Let me brag on Marilyn here a bit; she was fearless driving around in Cincinnati.  She did the driving on this day, Ross (who was also extremely skilled at driving around the city) did the driving most other days, except for when Laura went somewhere with us.  She was by far the bravest and most skilled of our driving pool.  I pretty much just sat back and relaxed. 

A Cincinnati tradition.

 After a few hours at Macy's, where I tried in vain to convince Marilyn that I needed a bow tie, we headed out for lunch.  I had made it known that I wanted to eat at Skyline Chili, but the enthusiam for that concept from the other members of my party was neglible, at best.  So, as we were driving along we spotted a Chipotle restaurant.  We decided to go there, and when we turned the car around and headed back, we were surprised to see that there was a Skyline Chile in the same complex.  So, it was agreed that I would eat at Skyline, and the rest of them would go to Chipotle.  However, gripped with remorse at their decision, Marilyn, Ross, Maegan, and Kate all followed me into Skyline.

At Skyline, the chili is served over thin noodles and piled high with cheese.  A "Three Way" is noodles, chili, and cheese; a "Four Way is noodles, chili, cheese, and either onions or beans; and a "Five Way" is noodles, chili, cheese, onions, and beans.  I chose the "Four Way" with onions, along with a chili sandwich that consisted of chili and cheese on a hot dog bun.  I really liked the Skyline chili; many people don't.  It is flavored differently than most chili, with a bit of a cinnamon flavor actually, which some don't care for.  However, it is so popular that it is even sold in cans at grocery stores.  I brought back a small supply for some of my friends, as well as a couple of cans that I put in our own pantry. 

By the time we finished at Skyline, Laura had rejoined us. We went back to her house for a brief rest, and then headed to another unique Cincinnati landmark, Jungle Jim's International Food Market. 

Jungle Jim's is unlike any place you've ever been.  It is full of unlikely food items from all over the world.  The whole time I was there I kept thinking of my dad, Abb Yates, who passed away last year and who had a lifelong love for the quirky and unusual.  He would have really had a time a Jungle Jim's. 

This is a real U.S. Navy firetruck, which greets you at the opening of the hot sauce section, which is a house-sized room with what has to be every kind of hot sauce ever manufactured.

I had read on the Internet that you could get dehydrated insects at Jungle Jim's, and sure enough, you can!

Kate gets International flavor at Jungle Jim's.




Kangaroo.  It's what's for supper.

Well, since I had talked big about eating an insect, I felt that my honor was at stake if I failed to follow through.  So, I carefully selected one of the Giant Waterbugs.  The bug was completely intact, eyes included, just dehydrated.  So, for the honor of Abb Yates and the Arkansas Razorbacks, I ate it. 

It took about four bites to get it down, each one accompanied by a sickening "crunch" sound.  The bug was basically flavorless, perhaps with a bit of a salty taste, but it took forever to chew up each bite.  But I got the whole thing down.

After our trip to Jungle Jim's, we got take-out from an Italian place called Buca Di Beppo.  Outstanding, but frankly, after a Giant Waterbug, most anything tastes good.

End of Thursday.  Whew!

Friday, it was a bit warmer.  Laura was off that day, so she got to experience the full day with us.  Our first stop was the Gap Outlet, which may be the only one in the country (not sure).  (It's not; thanks Uncle Skip for the info.)  They all bought stuff, and I even found a sweater in my size for $1.99.  After that, we went to the Kenwood Mall, where there was another large Macy's.  We spent several hours there, and I made another pitch for a bow tie, and Marilyn and I actually looked at some, but they were not priced as cheaply as the one I saw at the downtown Macy's.  So I let it go.

For lunch, we went to a place Marilyn had been before; the BonBonnerie.  It is a bakery on one level with a little tea room/cafe below.  I had a delicious roasted turkey and colby sandwich on pickle bread, along with a slice of their signature quiche.  I had a small pot of English black tea to drink.  What a marvelous lunch it was!  Afterwards, we stopped at the bakery and Laura bought us a salted caramel cupcake.  Unbelievably good.

Later that evening, we went to the Chipotle that everyone had passed up for me for our supper.  The portions were huge, the food was delicious, and everybody was happy.  End of Friday.

Saturday was designated as Kate's day.  She had been very patient, and actually made it through the 14 hour trip with almost no complaints.  She was content to watch her favorite show, Calliou, on her mom and dad's iPad.  We had hoped to go the the famous Cincinnati Zoo that day, but we realized early in the week that it was too cold.  So instead, we went to the Cincinnati Children's Museum in the old train station downtown.


The 1930s era former train station, now a museum.

The museum was a art deco marvel, so beautiful in design.  I could easily imagine the trains steaming into the station, the concourse busy with travelers.  I had noticed earlier that there was an IMAX theater in the museum, so I bought a ticket for the "Flight of the Butterflies" show about Monarchs, while everyone else went with Kate into the Discovery section of the children's museum.  I figured everyone would be ready to go by the time my 45 minute movie was over, but when I located them downstairs, Kate was just getting started.  She had the best time!  She climbed into a tree house, played with the 3,000 plastic balls in the fun zone; spent a LONG time at the water table, and then went back and did everything again.

Kate crawling in the tube under the aquarium.



Kate having fun at the water table.

Ross, Kate, and Maegan, and the Cincinnati skyline.

Marilyn, Laura, Kate, and me.



Our Laura and Little Kate.

After the museum, a quick lunch at Tom+Chee.  It is, as you might suspect, a little place that specializes in tomato soup and grilled cheese sandwiches.  Again, very very good (but the service was a bit slow).

Home then for naps, then I stayed with Kate (who was taking a LONG nap) while the others went to a store Laura wanted Marilyn to see called Bizarre Bazaar.  There happened to be yet another Macy's across the street, so they stopped by there and, yes, bought me a bow tie.

That evening, Laura took us over to the part of town where Cincinnati Children's Hospital is located.  She showed us the route she drives to work, which includes a short trip through what I would describe as one of Cincinnati's mean streets.  Our destination was Dewey's Pizza.  We had to wait a bit to get a table at this popular spot, but the wait was worth it.  We got three different pizzas; mine was a southwest pizza with white sauce, chicken, and barbecue sauce.  Very, very good. 

My, I love these people!

 And then, it was over.  We left at 3:30 (Arkansas time) on Sunday morning, stopped around 7:00 for breakfast at Bowling Green, Kentucky (home of Bobby Petrino), drove, and drove, and drove some more, got caught in the Interstate 40 construction in eastern Arkansas, but rolled in to beautiful Alma, Arkansas around 5:30 Sunday evening.

It was so nice to be with my family the whole week, and we had such fun and laughed and laughed.  Little Kate is quite the comedienne, it turns out.  I'm looking forward to going back; there's lots of places to eat waiting for me...





Just About The Best Dog There Ever Was...And Other Pets We Loved

Every kid should know a dog like Lucky.

A rerun from a couple of years back...

The very earliest memory that I can recall today was a memory of Lucky.  My sister Janet and I were about three years old, so it must have been Christmas of 1959 or 1960.  I was sitting in the chair next to our coal-burning pot-bellied stove, and I was holding this little ball of fur that was licking me on the nose.  I don't know which family member gave him the name of Lucky, but it fit him perfectly.

Lucky was mostly collie, but he also had a healthy mix of other breeds as well.  He was a sweet, gentle soul who would have protected any of us with his very life if the occasion had ever arisen.  His bark was ferocious, but I don't think he ever bit anyone.  But, should a stranger come up on the porch, Lucky announced his presence with a bark that brought the family running.  Lucky would become particularly alarmed when M.C. Maxell would deliver the groceries we had ordered from Robert Davis' grocery store.  M.C. made a lasting friend of Lucky, however, by always bringing along a bone from the store's butcher.

Lucky's favorite activity was to chase rocks.  If you went out on the street and picked up a rock and threw it, Lucky would chase it down, pick it up and drop it, and then turn back to be ready to chase the next one.  He was also very intelligent.  Mama used to laugh when she would tell the story of the time that she had a letter that she needed to get to my Grandmother who lived down the street, so she clipped the letter to Lucky's collar and called my Grandmother on the phone, telling her to call for Lucky.  My Grandmother stepped out on her porch and called Lucky's name, and off he went to deliver the letter.

Lucky, Scooter, and Tom

Another early addition to our lineup of pets was our cat Tom.  My brothers brought Tom home after catching him in some lady's yard.  I remember she had a bunch of cats running wild, and Phil and Gene went up there and came back with Tom.  When we got Tom, he had an open wound on his neck that we referred to as a "wolf."  I've never seen that word used in that context anywhere else, but it was some sort of a parasitic infection, or as my brother Phil refers to it, an "alien life form" living in Tom's neck.  Well, Tom was able to overcome his "wolf" and became a gentle, sweet cat who would rapidly sweep into the house anytime you were too slow in closing the back door.  Tom used to love to sit in the living room and watch TV with us.  Bonanza was a particular favorite of his, I believe.  Tom was afflicted with seizures, however, and it may have been a result of his "wolf."

My Uncle Joe got me my dog Scooter when I was about ten.  I've mentioned Scooter in a couple of earlier posts.  This picture of Lucky, Scooter, and Tom on our front porch is a good one; you can see the sweet nature that Scooter had just by looking at his face.  As I mentioned before, Scooter was killed by a thoughtless man in the neighborhood.  A sad ending to a sweet little dog.

Lucky, Janet, and Puff

Somewhere along about this time, we got an additional cat.  I don't even remember where we got him, but my sister named him Puff.  I always thought it was from the song "Puff the Magic Dragon" that was popular about that time, but I also seem to recall that there was a cat named Puff in the Dick and Jane books that we read at school.  Puff was yellow and white and had absolutely no interest in coming into the house, not even to watch Bonanza.  He got along great with Tom; they were great friends and never fought. 

Skipper was a bit ornery and was known to cause
trouble, but I loved him nonetheless.

And then, Uncle Joe found me another dog.  Skipper was at times a bit of a handful, such as when he would chase motorcycles (his favorite pastime), bite my sister, fight with Lucky, or break his leg (see my post Skipper Breaks His Leg!)  But skipper was my pal, and when I needed time to lie on my back and stare up at the clouds, Skipper was right there with me.  As I've mentioned before, it was generally assumed that Skipper had some emotional problems, but he and I got along just fine.  Not the case with Skipper and Lucky, though.  If they happened to get into an altercation that escalated into a fight, Skipper would not give up.  Even though he was small, he would keep on fighting long after Lucky was ready to quit.  The only solution would be to tie up both Lucky and Skipper to the clothesline, where Skipper would continue to bark at Lucky until he finally got tired of it.  I have a vivid memory of a near tragedy involving Skipper.  One day when I had just walked home from school, I saw Skipper in the yard across the street.  I called his name, and no sooner had I gotten the words out that I realized that there was a speeding pick-up coming up Pine Street.  Skipper, upon hearing my voice, immediately started running to me, unaware of the speeding truck.  I watched in horror as Skipper ran in front of the truck, and as if in slow motion, he turned his head just as the truck was about to hit him and managed to somehow run sideways for a fraction of a second, literally inches away from the front tire.  Needless to say, when he got up to my arms, he got an extra hug from me.

Time out.

By the time my sister and I left for college, the only pet left was Lucky.  His front legs were hobbled by arthritis, so that he ran with a stilted gait, but he would still try to chase rocks.  Even after his eyesight was almost gone, he would listen to the sound of the rocks and try to give chase.  But, his health continued to deteriorate.  One day, when he seemed to having a particular amount of trouble, Mama realized that keeping Lucky alive would be unfair to that great dog.  So, with a heavy heart, she called the vet, and Lucky, at age 17, got to rest.

The story is told of a rainbow bridge, where dogs and cats that have left this life run and play all day.  But they keep one eye on the bridge, and when they hear a familiar voice, they come running to meet the one they love.  I'd like to think that's true.  But even if it's not, I'm sure glad God made dogs and cats.

Snow Day!

Skipper and I enjoying a Snow Day, 1969

Cold winter mornings, with a blanket of snow covering the ground, were moments of great excitement when I was a kid. We knew we would be getting a day off from school; the only problem was, we had to wait for the official announcement. That meant sticking close to the TV in the living room, the little gas stove turned up as high as it would go, watching Frank Blair on the Today Show and waiting for Channel 5 to cut in with their 5-minute newscast at 7:25. There was no such thing as a “crawl” across the bottom of the screen in those days; the technology didn’t exist. No, we had to wait for an actual human to read a list of the schools that were going to be closed. Sure enough, near the end of the list, the newsman would say “Waldron,” and shouts of glee would ring out in living rooms across the city. Snow Day!


With what seemed like the weight of the world unexpectedly lifted off our shoulders, my sister and I would plan the day. The first order of business: a little celebratory hot chocolate. Mama made it with milk heated in a pan over the stove and some Hershey’s Cocoa from the can in the cabinet. Then maybe some pancakes, since we had time for a leisurely breakfast. Sufficiently fueled, it was time for our first excursion outdoors. This was primarily a walk-around, just to see how deep the snow was and how slick the street was (already considering the potential of another day off tomorrow). This was also the first opportunity to taste the snow. This was always done with some reluctance, because there was strong support among some kids for the theory that the first snow of the year was potentially radioactive. But, pushing our fears aside, we would make huge snowballs, not for throwing, but for eating. In the back yard, we had a storage building that we called the Smokehouse, which had a low enough roof that we could break off an icicle for an additional treat. Eventually, our feet would get cold, and we knew it was time to go back inside for a bit.

As we warmed around our little gas stove, the house was filled with the aroma of the beans and cornbread that Mama was cooking in the kitchen. A second cup of hot chocolate, and it was time to enjoy a little daytime TV while we waited to go outside again. At our house, we got only one channel, Channel 5 from Fort Smith. In those days, it was known as KFSA, the call letters standing for Fort Smith Arkansas. But, since Channel 5 was the only station in town, it wasn’t limited to one network. As John Candler used to say every morning during the station sign-on, “KFSA is affiliated with both the NBC and the CBS television networks, and is authorized, under contract, to transmit some ABC programs.” Which was actually a pretty sweet deal, because Channel 5 could pick the most popular programs from each network and broadcast them.

After the Today Show went off at 8:00, Channel 5 switched over to CBS and broadcast Captain Kangaroo. Although aimed at kids younger than us, we still liked to hear The Captain tell stories and visit with Grandfather Clock, whose eyes and mouth moved in a moderately frightening manner, and Mr. Green Jeans, and of course Mr. Moose, a puppet who invariable tricked The Captain into standing there talking while a cascade of ping pong balls fell around him. There was a particularly good block of programming beginning at 9:00, with reruns of I Love Lucy, and at 9:30, reruns of The Real McCoys, and at 10:00, reruns of The Andy Griffith Show which had been renamed Andy of Mayberry (to avoid confusion with current versions of The Andy Griffith Show which still aired on Monday nights) and at 10:30 The Dick Van Dyke Morning Show (again, reruns of the still currently running Dick Van Dyke Show). It took a really great snow to pull me away from the latter half of that programming block. At 11:00, it was time for Love of Life, which was my signal to return to the outdoors.

If the snow was ok for building, I would usually build a snow fort. Others could build their snowmen, but I took a more practical approach. In the event that a spontaneous snowball fight should develop, it was always good to have a snow fort to retreat to. We didn’t really have any good sledding hills nearby, other than the sloped bank in front of our house, which was steep enough to slide down, but you couldn’t go very far. We usually just tromped around in the snow with no particular destination in mind. Lucky, our faithful dog, was content to follow us around. Tom, our cat, had usually managed to sneak into the house and was lying low somewhere by the fire.

At noon, it was back indoors to warm up and have lunch. The beans would have cooked several hours in the Presto-cooker, and the cornbread had just come out of the oven, cooked in the iron skillet that was a wedding present for Mama and Daddy many years before. I would crumble the cornbread on my plate and pile the beans on top. It was never too cold for iced tea, which completed the feast. I don’t know what Mama ate for lunch when it wasn’t a snow day, but on an occasion like this she really outdid herself. For dessert, she might cut the center out of some canned biscuits and fry them in hot oil to make donuts, which she glazed with icing made from powdered sugar. And of course, sometime that afternoon we would have snow ice cream. Mama would go outside and find some clean snow, and bring it back inside and mix it with Pet milk and sugar. Delicious!

Even Mama had a little fun on Snow Days

After lunch, another little TV session was in order. This time, it was game shows. At 1:00, Password came on, with Allen Ludden as host. At 1:30, it was Art Linkletter’s House Party, which featured a hugely popular segment in which Art interviewed four kids sitting in tall chairs, producing hilarious responses to seemingly innocent questions. At 2:00, Gary Moore hosted To Tell the Truth, a show in which celebrity panelists had to guess which of three guests was in fact who or what he claimed to be. At 2:30, it was soap opera time again, with The Edge of Night and The Secret Storm coming on, so it was time to go back outside. This was reality check time, because you could get a sense of whether or not the streets were beginning to clear and whether or not the snow was melting, so you sort of begin to get an idea whether or not your impromptu vacation was likely to be extended or not.

At about 3:30, a new show came on ABC called Where the Action Is. This show later changed its name to The Happening, and actually only lasted for a couple of years or so. The show was produced by Dick Clark, producer of the wildly popular American Bandstand show on Saturday afternoons. This show was on every day at 3:30, and featured pop music acts performing their songs in various locations around Southern California. Every show featured different artists, but regular performers included one of our most popular singing groups, Paul Revere and the Raiders. Their lead singer, Mark Lindsey, was very popular with the girls, and the keyboard player, who I guess was Paul Revere, had the grill of a Ford Mustang in front of his keyboard, which I thought was really cool. They all dressed like Patriots from the 1700’s, and I remember some sort of contest that required Mark Lindsey to cut off his ponytail, which I believe was then awarded to some young swooning female. Between 4:00 and 5:00, Channel 5 showed reruns of two great westerns, Maverick and Sugarfoot.

By that time, it didn’t really feel like a snow day anymore; the normal routine had pretty much returned. But sometimes, when you watched the 6:00 news, you got the advance word that tomorrow, again, would be…a SNOW DAY!