Rons Rants

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

True Story….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I couldn’t help but laugh.

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

“Introduce her damn it!!” She demanded.

Well hell……she was the boss.

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

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

Without missing a beat, Bill grinned and growled.

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

I damn near fell over laughing.

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

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

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

Something that NO ONE will ever take away from me!

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

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

“You did that on purpose!”

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

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

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

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

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

In front of God and everybody!!

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

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

I never saw her again.

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

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

RIP Farrah.

Touching Base

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I suppose.

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

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

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

She's just being Michelle.

Super Woman Jr.

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

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

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

They are ignorant!

True story:

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

"Al Gore of course!"

I laughed and said.

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

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

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

I REST MY FRIGGIN' CASE!!!

Take care and God Bless ya'll.

Back soon....I hope.

Guilt….The End

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A brief synopsis of the event goes as follows:

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

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

Mrs. Amy called the police after Brett left.

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

Needless to say…the prick skated on all charges.

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

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

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

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

I know….I digressed.

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

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

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

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

Simple as that.

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

Until around one in the morning.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Brett was having a ball.

Well, to make a long story short….

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

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

Yep…it was Layla Collins.

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

He disappeared.

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

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

The calls continued.

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

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

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

Here’s what happened next…

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

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

Well, more like a hammering really.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh hell…..this was TOO damned easy.

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

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

Chet and his two friends were drinking and fuming.

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

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

“The son of bitch oughta be shot.”

“The law’s not going to do ANYTHING!”

“I wish I could shoot that SOB!”

“Somebody oughta do SOMETHING!”

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

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

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

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

Well shit!

That pretty much sealed Brett's sorry fate.

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

The rest is history.

Chet finished his beer and looked at all of us.

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

Chet said quietly and simply.

“Problem solved boys….problem solved.”

A couple of days later, a strange thing happened.

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

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

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

Man….they destroyed this bastard.

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

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

Wasn’t it?

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

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

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

And so…I DO feel guilt.

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

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

But who knows if that’s true?

I BELIEVE it’s true but….

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

Right?

Guilt….Part Two

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

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

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

He turned around, straightened up and smiled broadly.

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

I laughed and shook the bony hand he offered me.

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

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

He smiled a clever smile.

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

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

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

He roared again at his humor.

He waved a hand toward his garden table.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wow….another “secret”!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again, I rubbed my head.

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

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

Man what a bastard this guy was!

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

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

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

SIDE NOTE:

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

This old man was an honest to goodness hero.

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

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

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

BACK TO THE STORY….

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I finally made it to sleep around dawn.

Sometime that morning/early afternoon, my phone rang.

“Hello” I answered.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at me but kept walking.

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

He stopped and turned towards me.

“What?” he asked.

I slowly walked toward him.

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

“How should I know?” he asked innocently.

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

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

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

“Do you hear me asshole?” I asked.

He still said nothing.

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

“What did you say?” I demanded.

He just started laughing.

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

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

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

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

He wasn’t coming out.

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

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

He gave me that same horse laugh again.

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

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

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

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

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

I DID care!

How do you deal with that?

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

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

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

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

I wasn’t feeling real good about this.

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

Dear lord!

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

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

I told her again what I knew about him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it.

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

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

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

Guilt

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

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

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

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

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

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

I tell you that to say….

Maybe it was the heat.

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

Anyway, here’s what happened.

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

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

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

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

Go figure.

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

His name was Brett.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

All of a sudden it hit me.

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

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

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

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

Dear God that girl was HOT!

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

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

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

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

Did I mention that she was HOT?

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

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

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

He turned around quickly.

“I wasn’t doing nothing!” he shouted.

I almost laughed.

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

He straightened up and glared at me.

“I said I wasn’t doing anything!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAMN that punch hurt!

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

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

The little bastard was GONE!

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

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

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

To Be Continued……..

You Guys Are So Cool

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

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

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

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

TOO COOL.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Spring is here!!

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

Oh well...maybe soon.

See ya'll soon.

Still Here Ya'll

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until next time...God Bless you all!

Checkin' In

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Promise.

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

Ron

I'm Amazed.

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

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

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

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

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

I hope that everyone has a wonderfull Thanksgiving day!

See you soon.

Ron

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Take care and God bless you all.

Ron

Hi Ya’ll

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

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

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

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

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

Thank God for that!

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

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

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

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

Take care and God Bless you all.

Ron

The Story Of My Wife...Part Three

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

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

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

It’s really strange.

Okay…back to the story of Michelle.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She buried her head in my chest and cried.

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

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

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

I will NEVER forget that meeting.

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

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

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

Our hands squeezed tightly as we glanced at each other.

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

Michelle was the first one to speak.

She asked him to elaborate and he did.

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

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

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

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

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

METASTATIC

What the hell was that?

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

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

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

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

My reaction still embarrasses me today.

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

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

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

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

I’ve never felt so stunned in my life.

She reached over and pulled me to her.

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

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

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

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

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

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

He looked at her and smiled a faint smile.

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

With that, he stood up.

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

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

I fell completely apart.

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

I remember saying over and over again.

“Oh dear GOD honey…I’m so sorry.”

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

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

I nodded lamely and she grasped my hands in hers.

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

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

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

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

And so it began…..

To Be Continued

The Story Of My Wife...Part Two.

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

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

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

And she will.

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

Fact is….I’m friggin’ TIRED!

Okay…back to the tale.

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

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

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

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

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

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

She obviously had put up with all she intended to.

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

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

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

I can recall the moment with perfect clarity.

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

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

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

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

She drove off without another word.

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

Here’s the strange part.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without missing a beat she smiled and answered.

“Sure.”

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

She gave me cute grin.

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

I felt like a total jerk.

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

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

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

We’ve been together every day since that date.

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

She’s quite a remarkable woman!

The Story Of My Wife

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

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

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

The call came Monday.

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

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

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

Man….EVERYBODY loves my girl!!

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

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

So….believe it or not….I give you…

The Story Of My Wife.

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

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

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

Man…what a memory.

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

Then I spotted her.

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

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

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

I will also NEVER forget what happened next.

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

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

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

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

She was MORTIFIED!

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

Over the mic I asked.

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

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

“What did she say?” I asked.

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

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

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

The audience howled and I laughed too.

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

That’s how it all started.

Of course, I screwed it up at first but…

That was the beginning.

To Be Continued….

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

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

More tomorrow.

My Maternal Grandfathers…yep…plural!

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

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

http://www.wcscradio.com

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pretty wild huh?

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

Whew!

Ain’t THAT confusing?

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

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

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

He was also my hero.

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's just the way he spoke.

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it!

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

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

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

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

"Are you hurt?" he asked tenderly.

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

He laughed and stomped down HARD on my right foot!

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

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

It was a great moment in my life.

Must be a southern thing.

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

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

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

But...that's another story.

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

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

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

Damn I miss that little old man.

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

I never met him.

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

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

They were quite popular as a duo in those days.

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

See ya’ll later.

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

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

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

It was a disturbing sight to say the least.

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

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

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

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

I called 911.

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

The call went something like this….

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

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

Hesitation.

“Hello?” I said.

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

I repeated myself…..louder.

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

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

“Oh lord!” the man said. “Who is it?”

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

“Are yun’s sure he’s dead?” He asked.

“Yes….he’s dead.”

“Have yun’s tried CPR on him?”

I was getting frustrated.

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

“How come you’re sure he’s dead?”

This moron was getting on my nerves!

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

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

I couldn’t believe my ears.

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

There was a pause on the other end.

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

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

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

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

What the hell was taking so long?

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

I called 911 AGAIN.

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

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

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

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

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

There was a pause on the line.

After a bit…Burl chuckled too.

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

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

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

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

Side Note:

I later met and got to know Burl a little.

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

Seriously!

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

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

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

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

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

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

I still laugh thinking about old Burl’s story.

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

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

Is it just me or is that friggin’ hilarious?

Okay…back to the story.

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

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

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

It was Miss Rose.

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

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

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

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

I didn’t say anything.

I was stunned.

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

“Oh really?” I asked. “Like who?”

She grinned and turned to leave.

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

With that, she was out the door.

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

It was the daughter of Mr. Thornton.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Don’t believe me?

Try this on for size.

I'm NOT making this up.

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

Barney was still, quite clearly MY DOG.

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

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

This was really unusual.

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

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

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

He just really began acting strange.

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

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

He just knew.

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

We still miss that old mutt terribly.

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

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

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

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

Back soon ya'll.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

I like that.

Okay…..

Back To The Tale……..

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

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

However……I digress.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Back To The Tale……again.

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

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

Damn!!

I opened the door and he grinned sheepishly.

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

“Now?” I asked.

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

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

I was HUNGRY!!

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

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

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

I saw him grin.

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

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

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

He shrunk back into the sofa a bit.

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

I couldn’t help but laugh.

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

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

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

He was almost giddy.

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

I laughed.

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

He laughed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He went down to the ground without a sound.

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

“Damn that hurt!” He gasped.

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

Why me?

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

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

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

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

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

It was one of those ‘Twilight Zone’ moments.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Ah…….however….I meander again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He was gone.

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

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

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

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

I pushed the curtain aside and laughed.

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

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

Too funny.

She spun and looked at me.

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

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

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

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

Lord!

Without even going outside I could hear Barney yelping.

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

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

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

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

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

“What English guy?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn it!!

Why me?

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

Why ME?

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

Damn!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

DAMN!!

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

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

“Home James.”

I went to the passenger side door and opened it.

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

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

He did not so much as glance my way.

I repeated my ‘command’.

NOTHING!

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

SIDE NOTE:

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

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

We loved each other.

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

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

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

This next part of the tale is gonna sound like b.s. but…..when I look back on his behavior that day and a couple of other times…I believe my analysis of the situation is correct.

He had a remarkable ‘gift’ which I’ll explain in a bit.

I’ll have to tell ya’ll some other Barney stories in the future.

For Example:

Almost every day, the big old goofy bastard would go through the automatic doors at Lowe’s grocery store (a mile from my house) and act like a friggin’ Wal-Mart greeter!

He never stayed outside the store nor did he wander around inside the store, he would simply sit by the door and shake hands with anyone who wasn’t terrified of a 135 lb dog that looked a bit like Astro on the Jetsons.

Most everyone loved it and the local paper even ran a story about him but, due to the article, the county health inspectors decided to ban Barney from his ‘duties’.

People actually cried and wrote angry letters to the editor about how a horrible injustice was being done to Barney!

He was a hoot.

BACK TO THE TALE

After I pulled Barney from the car and shut the door, I let go of his collar and he immediately went around to the driver’s side where Mr. Thornton had just sat down and closed the door. Barney hopped up, put his paws on the window frame, stuck his head in the window and ‘talked’ to the man.

I think that most intelligent dogs are truly PISSED that they can’t speak and Barney was no exception. He would growl, sigh, whine and moan as though he were trying to talk to you and was damned upset that you couldn’t understand him!

The little man looked at me as I came around to his side of the car to get Barney again.

“He IS a friendly chap isn’t he?” He smiled. “I think he rather fancies me.”

I laughed.

“Don’t be too flattered Mr. Thornton…Barney loves almost everybody.”

With that, I grabbed Barney’s collar again and damned if he didn’t pull away from me and GROWL!

I was absolutely stunned and I don’t mind telling you….a little bit scared.

We’ve all heard stories about dogs suddenly ‘snapping’ or ‘going postal’ out of the clear blue.

Hell, if a friggin’ Yorky or a Pomeranian goes bat shit crazy well…it’s no big deal but Barney was one big S.O.B. who loved to chew on lumber for the hell of it!!

He could devour beef rib bones like dog biscuits!

Instinctively, I let go of his collar and he immediately jumped back into the car window.

I looked at Mr. Thornton, he looked at me and we both wore uneasy expressions I’m sure.

After a few seconds, he opened the car door, got out and stood before Barney. He reached down and petted him while looking at me.

“Well….you said that dogs love you Mr. Thornton.” I said apologetically. “I don’t suppose you want a dog?”

He grinned.

“Actually, I would love a dog but I’m afraid I don’t care to own a bloody horse!”

As we stood there trying to figure out what to do about this strange situation, a car came across the little bridge and pulled in behind Mr. Thornton’s.

“I wished I was dead.” I muttered.

Mr. Thornton looked at me.

“I beg your pardon.”

“Here comes trouble.” I said.

It was Susan’s asshole husband…..Bill.

As I mentioned earlier, Bill was a retired NYPD beat cop. He was in his early seventies and one of the surliest men I’ve ever known. I pretty sure the man was weaned on sour milk and vinegar. He was one of those people who could say ‘I love you’ but it came out as ‘kiss my ass’ if you know what I mean.

He sprung out of his Crown Victoria with the nimbleness of a man half his age. Like him or not, you had to give the man his ‘props’. He was in incredible shape for a man his age and loved to regale anyone who would listen as to how physically superior he was to anyone he knew. He began this proclamation with a handshake that would make a Marine drill sergeant weep and a steely eyed glare.

I’m not making this up folks….

When I first met him, I was inspecting the rental house in anticipation of signing the lease. Susan and I were just about to enter the tiny guest house when all of the sudden, a candy apple red Mercedes 450 SL whips into the driveway and a man dressed like a cricket player vaults out of the convertible like something out of a Magnum P.I. episode!

Unfortunately, the wannabe Magnum’s tennis shoe must have failed to clear the top of the door and, as a result, the man pitched quite literally ‘ass over tea kettle’ onto the leaf covered ground.

It was such a hideous landing, face first into the ground and at an impossible angle with no hands breaking the momentum that I was pretty well certain that I was witnessing a ‘Christopher Reeve’ moment!

Damn!! He had to have broken his neck!!!

I heard Susan chuckle and I looked at her in disgust.

“You think THAT’S funny?” I asked.

I watched as the man miraculously rose to his feet albeit a little cautiously.

“Hell yeah it’s funny.” She snorted. “That dick with ears is my husband.”

She opened the door to the guest house and motioned me inside.

“Are you gonna check on him?” I asked.

“Hell no honey….he does enough ‘checking’ for the both of us…..the jealous prick.”

No sooner had we entered the little house than Bill came bursting into the room.

“So dis guy heah is the new tenant huh Susan?” He asked.

She ignored him so I pitched in.

“Well, I’m just sort of looking for now.”

“What’s he looking at Susie?” He growled. “He lookin’ at the fuggin’ house or the gadamn ‘amenities’?”

Geez….what an asshole.

Susan whirled around and faced him.

“Bill, get the fuck out of her right now!” She shouted. “You wanna handle this job….handle the fucking job but don’t tell me to handle the job and then give me a fuckin’ hard time when I do handle the fuckin’ job!”

I was amazed.

Even though I had been in the Navy, I don’t believe I had ever heard such a short statement utilizing the ‘F’ word so many times!

The ‘lady’ was an artist.

Bill glared at me.

“Who are you?” he demanded.

I’ve never liked assholes even though I’ve been one myself many times in my life so naturally……I had to speak up.

“I’m the guy who ain’t gonna rent this place from you.” I said as I headed for the door.

Suddenly, Susan rushed over and grabbed my arm.

“I’ll cut the rent by a hundred a month and I’ll do all the yard work.”

“For crissake Susie, why don’t you just let the fuggin’ guy stay here for free?” he groaned like Archie Bunker.

“Shut the hell up Bill!” she screamed. “Get out of here or I swear I’ll shoot you with your own damned gun when I get home.”

Oddly enough, Bill turned and left but not before delivering a parting shot.

“You just remember that I know where my guns are too!”

There were a few uncomfortable moments after Bill departed and then she turned to me as if nothing had happened.

“So…..you wanna see the darling little room upstairs?”

What the hell could I say?

“Sure.”

As you know….I ended up signing the lease.

The rest is history.

To Be Continued……

Things That Happen When I'm Minding My Own Business

2008-04-08T23:13:00.002-05:00

A few years back I was living in a very old rented house across the street road from the Little Toe River. Yep….that’s the real name. Lord only knows why they named it that but I suspect it’s because the damned thing is barely deep enough to dampen your little toe in places but…who knows? While it’s not much of a ‘river’ it was and is a really good trout stream and is very popular with fly fishermen.

One fall afternoon I was sitting on my front deck with my dog/best friend Barney minding my own business and enjoying the brisk afternoon when a car came around the curve and pulled off the road next to my driveway. I watched curiously to see who would emerge from the car as I tried to prevent Barney, a 130 lb Rottweiler/Lab mix, from tearing off the deck and licking our visitor to death. As we sat there, the door opened and a little old man wearing full body Orvis fly fishing regalia stepped out of the car and went to his trunk where he began unloading his fishing gear.

As he stood there sorting out his gear after giving me a barely noticeable wave, I heard another car approach and recognized it as the black Jaguar belonging to my landlady Susan. She rarely came by unless she was desperate for a partner to play a round of golf or trying to escape her husband Bill….a retired NYPD cop and an asshole of gargantuan proportions.

She knew that I hated playing golf with her so I rarely answered the phone when my caller ID told me that she was calling so…she would simply show up at my house and bushwhack me.

Susan was somewhere in the vicinity of sixty years old and had only taken up golf a few years before and as a result, she was one of the worst golfers I’d ever seen up close. At the time, I was about a twelve handicap (pretty decent) and she was absolutely inept yet extremely dedicated to the game. I would tee off on a par three, land my shot on or near the green then watch her hit the ball (or miss it entirely) fifteen times before she finally reached the green!

It was painful to watch.

I could usually tell by the way she walked up the rose lined walkway whether she was there to beg me to play golf or fix her a really strong drink. I watched carefully as Susan got out of her car and stormed up the path to the deck.

Thank God!!

No golf today….the lady was in a drinking mood.

I could see her eyeing the little old fly fisherman suspiciously as she braced for Barney’s inevitable attack. For some reason Barney LOVED Susan and she loved him but she was always concerned that he would bowl her over and ruin her designer outfit.

As she reached the gate leading to the deck, I mischievously released Barney and he bolted towards her.

“Ron!” she squealed. “You are a dirty sonofabitch!”

Much to our astonishment however, Barney bolted past her as though she wasn’t there and ran immediately to where our unknown angler was standing. I was shocked as I watched Barney run to a spot about two feet from the little man where the giant dog abruptly stopped and simply sat down in front of the man. I had been watching Barney and hollering for him to come back so I didn’t notice it immediately but as I saw Barney sit down, I looked at the man and saw that he had not taken his eyes off of his gear sorting task. He had to have heard me yelling, Susan shrieking and Barney’s huffing and puffing as he lumbered toward him but he never stopped what he was doing. A couple of seconds after the dog had sat down beside him; the little guy looked down at Barney as if he had just noticed him.

“Well then….who might you be?” he asked in a clipped British accent.

Barney hopped up and put his paws on the bumper of the car and the man proceeded to pet him as he looked up at the deck.

“What a magnificent animal.” He stated with an amiable grin.

I laughed and walked to the railing.

“Please don’t let him think you referred to HIM as an animal.” I chuckled. “Let’s just pretend you were talking about Susan here.” I said pointing to my dour land lady.

He gave Barney a shove, shut his trunk and strolled up the walkway with Barney on his heels.

“May I approach the cottage or will this fellow make an appetizer of me?” He asked cocking his head toward Barney.

I waved him up to the deck and he climbed the steps.

“Barney?” Susan snapped. “Hell, you would have to cover yourself with raw liver before he’d bite you! He’s a woosey!”

“Well…..he DOES put forth a furious image doesn’t he?” He laughed.

“Yeah….you really seem terrified don’t you?” I laughed. “How the hell did you DO that?” I asked.

“Do what?”

“How did you make him stop like that?” I asked. “I’ve seen him knock people over trying to say hello.”

“Oh that.” He said nonchalantly. “I have no idea how that works but apparently, dogs love me.” He said simply. “Always have.”

Susan and I looked at each other.

He grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“On the other hand…. trout absolutely loath me.” He said dejectedly pointing across the road to the stream. “I can’t catch a trout to save my ass.”

We all laughed at this and he introduced himself as David Thornton from England. He explained that he was ‘on holiday’ in America and was newly arrived in our county to try his hand at fly fishing for native, brown and brook trout.

“I’ve been told that almost anyone can land a trout in this river.” He stated hopefully. “Is this your place?”

“No, I’m only renting the place from this lady.” I explained.

I introduced Susan and myself.

After making our introductions, he asked if he might try his luck in the river for a few hours but efore I could say a word, Susan spoke up.

“This is private property sir.” She said rudely.

I looked at her disapprovingly.

“Susan…the man just said that he can’t catch a friggin’ fish to save his ass so….what’s the harm?”

She shot me a nasty look.

“Well…it’s MY property!”

I looked at Mr. Thornton and winked.

“She’s my wicked land lady Mr. Thornton but she’s not all that bad. She seems to have forgotten that this is MY property as long as the rent is paid up so go ahead and fish your heart out.”

Susan started to say something but thought better of it. She grinned and nodded toward the front door.

“Do you have a drink in there?” she asked.

I looked at Mr. Thornton and laughed as he brought his hands up in front of his face like a begging dog.

I could only assume that he too wanted a drink.

Even Susan had to laugh and I invited them into the house.

Susan was quite familiar with the bar and helped herself to an ice cold bottle of Vodka while I asked David what he desired.

He watched as Susan slammed a straight double shot without so much as a grimace and he winced.

“Dear God….did we have a rough day darling?” he asked with a straight face.

I almost fell off the barstool.

In fact, Susan could drink a Russian sailor under the table but, she didn’t like being called out on this fact so…she got a bit indignant.

“No…not a rough day…..a rough LIFE!” she growled.

I couldn’t stand to see her make an ass of herself so I stepped in.

“Susan….I’m sure that Bill (her asshole husband) has been a jerk today or your tee time was canceled or maybe your tanning bed blew up on you but please….as long as you are in MY house….I’m gonna have to ask you to be polite!” I was deliberately yanking her haughty chain which honestly….she enjoyed.

She looked at me and then at David as she poured herself another double.

“You know…” she looked at David. “He’s a real asshole sometimes but he’s right….I should be polite. I don’t do polite very well because I really don’t like people.”

Without missing a beat, David looked at her and grinned.

“Oh dear….what a shame….and I’ll bet they just love you!” He said with a snide look.

I liked this little dude!!!

Mr. Thornton had asked if I had any single malt whiskey and I had to inform him that I didn’t. He then asked for scotch and again, I had to break the sad news that I didn’t. Before he could ask and be disappointed again I reached under the bar and in two seconds, displayed my entire stock of liquor. A bottle of Jack Daniels, half a bottle of Tequila, a drop of Rum and the quickly disappearing bottle of vodka that Susan was apparently intent on ridding me of as soon as humanly possible.

He asked for Jack Daniels on the rocks…straight up.

I poured his drink, grabbed myself a beer and walked back to the deck hoping they would follow me.

They did.

We all found a chair and sat down in silence. After a few seconds, Mr. Thornton began asking about the trout stream. He asked about the type of flies he should use, where to fish and what type of trout he was likely to catch. He began spouting names of flies and types of larvae and insects and…well, he wouldn’t shut up so I interrupted him.

“Canned corn or dry dog food.” I said.

I had to laugh at his expression.

“Pardon me?” He asked.

I repeated myself.

He looked at me as though I’d spoken in tongues.

I couldn’t help but laugh as I explained to him that the river in front of my house was a release point where every couple of weeks, a big truck from the state hatchery pulled up and dumped hundreds of farm raised trout into the stream. Hell, the trout in my part of the river were damn near tame. You could almost grab them with your bare hand but canned corn or dry dog food would do nicely.

It took him a few moments to digest this information before he finally spoke.

“Not very sporting is it?” He asked. “Where is the challenge?”

“The challenge is trying to keep more than one of them to jump on your hook.” I chuckled. “Actually, it’s almost like they turn themselves in or commit suicide…not much of sport really which is why I don’t fish much.”

“Damned disappointing.” He remarked.

After he digested the news, his face lit up and asked me how far up the river he had to go to find the wild trout. I told him that he would have to hike about a mile upstream to a small waterfall but I also informed him that it was a pretty rugged hike up the mountain to reach the best spots.

He was as eager as a kid.

“Well….that’s precisely what I’m looking for!” He almost gushed. “Will you show me where to go?”

I told him that I would show him the trail but that it was too late in the day for him to set out because he would get caught in the dark before he could reach the area. I also told him that I wouldn’t advise him going alone due to the rocky and rugged nature of the trail. Of course, this led him to ask me to act as guide for him.

I told him that I couldn’t guide for him tonight or the next day but that I would show him the trail head and if he was dead set on going it alone, it would be easy to follow the trail in daylight.

This idea thrilled the hell out of the feisty little dude.

Susan, who had been sitting there listening to all this was now on her fourth or fifth shot of vodka finally spoke up in a slurred voice.

“Yer gonna climb that mountain to catch a damned fish when all you gotta do is just go across the road over there and invite one of those slimey sumbitches to jump in your fucking basket?” She asked incredulously. “That’s just plain stupid!” She added.

Mr. Thornton and I laughed like hell as we watched he stand up shakily and wave her hand as if dismissing both of us as morons.

“Go on….break your friggin’ neck for all I care!” She spat. “I’m goin’ home to my asshole husband.”

With that she staggered to her car and drove away.

We looked at each other.

“She’s quite the charmer isn’t she?” He asked.

“Oh yeah…and you caught her on a good day.” I laughed.

To Be Continued……

Great News!!

2008-03-31T21:56:00.000-05:00

Michelle has been doing really well with her new run of treatments and today, we got incredible news!

For those of you not familiar with the whole cancer struggle thing, ‘tumor markers’ are test results which give the oncologists a good insight into the effectiveness of treatments on the tumors themselves. The lower the ‘numbers’, the better the news is for those of us who live and die with the results…literally.

Before this last run of chemo, Michelle’s ‘markers’ were up around the mid eighties. A few months ago, her ‘markers’ went down into the fifties and of course, we were elated. Two months ago, tests showed that they were down even further to thirty eight (apparently normal for ANYONE who doesn’t even have cancer) and again, we celebrated. This morning we received a call from Michelle’s treatment nurse who sneaked an advanced peek at last weeks blood tests and she informed us that her ‘markers’ are now down to TWENTY SEVEN point THREE!!!

We danced in the kitchen and called all of our friends and family!

God really does love my girl!

You can’t really call it ‘remission’ until there is no evidence of tumors whatsoever but….we’ll gladly take it.

Thank you all for your thoughts and prayers.

I’m a fortunate man indeed to have such a precious little wife and God willing, she’s going to be around a long time yet!

Having shared that good news, I’ll close for now but I’m going to be back very soon with a story ya’ll might find interesting from a few years ago. I had forgotten all about it until I talked to an old friend of mine yesterday.

Here’s a teaser for you….it involves a drunken landlady, a drugged out neighbor, a dead fisherman and a dumbassed husband…..and then it gets weird!

Till then….

Just A Few Lines

2008-03-28T11:10:00.001-05:00

Thanks for those of you who still stop by from time to time. I haven’t spent much time at the computer recently for a number of reasons but, for those of you who have asked about us, trust me….we’re doing well.

Michelle’s chemo took her hair again but she made it through fine and her hair is coming back even though she’s continuing on a new round of a pill form of chemo. It’s making her hands and feet a bit sensitive but otherwise she’s tolerating it well and all the tests show that she doing fantastic. Thank God for that.

I’ve been trying to get back into the office a few days a week but I feel a bit like a stranger in my own company! My brother/partner has been running things for so long and the biz has grown so much that I can’t seem to feel comfortable anymore. We still have the base of ‘old’ employees, five or so but now there are many more ‘new’ ones and damn…they are all so friggin’ young! Sometimes I feel as if I hear one more sentence containing sixteen ‘oh my gawd’, ‘you know’ or ‘like’s I’m gonna go berserk! College freakin’ graduates who talk like damned ‘80’s’ era Valley Girls! Lord save me. Oh yeah…why do they have to call everyone (except Mike and I) ‘dude’? Just asking. And what’s up with them showing up for work as though they just rolled out of bed? Damn I’m getting old.

Okay….I’ll shut up now!

I’ve been asked why I quit blogging regularly and to be honest…I don’t know but I’ll resume someday I’m sure. I think one reason is that one of my employees found out about the blog and now I feel kind of weird about writing anymore. Strange. He’s a great kid and he says he loves my stuff but still…just seems kind of strange to me.

Well, anyway…that’s the update and I hope to be back soon.

God Bless you all.

Ron

Hi Folks

2008-01-30T23:17:00.000-05:00

Just checking in to let ya’ll know that I’m alive and well.

Well….as well as I can be at this time. It has been a long cold winter here in the High Country and to be honest, I’m sick of it!

Bless her precious heart, Michelle is undergoing a new round of chemo involving a drug called Xeloda and while the side effects are not hitting her as bad as they do a lot of people (thank God!), but she’s been a bit lethargic lately and for her…..that’s not a good thing. She’s always been such a dynamo and full of energy that to feel less than energetic is a real downer for her and, by extension, me.

I hate it for her but being a selfish kind of guy…I’m just praying and positive that the lethargy simply means that the drugs are working.

Yep….it’s ALL about ME!

I just want her to be healed and with me FOREVER.

As for me, I can’t seem to find the time, desire or inclination to write anything these days. Maybe it’s the winter ‘blahs’ or the fact that I’m lazy but, aside from ‘reading’ a bunch of historical biographies while working at butchering a ton of wood in the shop (I just discovered books on CD/Cassette)…..I’ve been well….a lazy SOB!

If you haven’t tried them….check out books on CD! Reading has always been a passion of mine and I’ll never stop reading but with the CD’s and Cassettes, I can ride my bike, do wood working or damn near anything and ‘READ’ at the same time. Too cool.

Do yourself a favor and read the biographies of Mark Twain, George Washington, Ben Franklin, Alexander Hamilton, Jefferson et al….DAMN! Those guys were simply amazing.

Men and women in past generations put our generation to abject shame.

We are not worthy of the life THEY allowed us to live.

Hopefully I’ll get into writing again soon but until then, thank you all for checking in on me.

See you soon.

Ron

Merry Christmas

2007-12-24T21:45:00.000-05:00

Man....I've been really busy this Christmas season! I wanted to take the time however to wish you all a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

Things are good here on the home front and I pray they are on yours.

Take care and God Bless from Ron and Michelle.

See you soon.

2007-12-14T00:34:00.000-05:00

Michelle underwent her ninth chemo treatment in this latest round on Wednesday. All of the blood work and tests are saying that my prayers are being answered. She’s doing really well. Her tumor markers are down into the normal range from a high of 87 but a combination of the chemo treatment and the ingesting of a ‘contrast agent’ beverage last night in advance of a CatScan today made her pretty sick.

She’s feeling much better today but I have to admit that last night scared the hell out of me.

Most folks who undergo ‘serious’ chemo experience pretty terrible reactions but, thank God, Michelle has always cruised right through as if it was no big deal. Yes, she’s had a few ‘down’ days and she’s lost her hair twice now but….she’s always handled it like a champ.

Last night however, she wasn’t her normal SuperWoman self. She was as sick as a dog and absolutely FURIOUS about it!

No….she didn’t go crazy or anything but, for her…she really got PISSED!

She REFUSES to give in to the chemo OR the cancer!

Lord, this is one tough little woman.

I tried to comfort her as we lay in bed last night. It was somewhere around two a.m.. I had really tried to take care of her and cater to her every need for hours. Inspite of my best albiet bumbling efforts, she was feeling absolutely miserable. As I held her close, she turned her head toward the wall.

“Hey Big Boy….will you do me a favor?” she asked sweetly.

Alright! She was going to ask me to get her a glass of juice or something! I could do SOMETHING to make her feel better!

Wrong!!

She rolled over to face me.

She smiled her best angelic smile before she spoke.

“Will you PLEASE roll over and go the hell to sleep?” She asked. “You’re driving me NUTS!”

We both laughed a while.

She pushed me away and ordered me to leave her alone.

"Don't say another word!" she laughed. "Just go to sleep!"

“Okay darlin’.” I chuckled. “You wake me up if you need me.”

“I told you to shut up!!" she ordered.

After a minute or two we stopped laughing again.

"You wake me up if you need ME.” She said. “I’m more worried about you than I am me!”

"Not a word!!" She demanded.

I did as she asked and turned onto my right side and lay there in silence for a long time.

The entire time, I thought of what my life had been since I met her.

I thought about what my life would be without her.

After a long while, she turned and put her left arm around my chest and nuzzled her face into the base of my neck.

“Don’t worry Big Boy…..there ain’t NOTHING that GOD can’t fix.” She whispered softly. “This is just a rough patch….I’m not going anywhere.”

How amazing is THAT?

She's the one with cancer and yet...she’s comforting ME.

What an incredible woman she is.

Please pray for her…for us.

I’d be lost without her.

Memories...Part VI

2007-12-11T23:49:00.000-05:00

Sorry to have taken so long in getting back to the tale but Michelle has kept me chained in the workshop making old fashioned Christmas ornaments for every friend and family member we have EVER known! The first dozen or so miniature sleds and ornaments were fun but….after a bit, it came to be a lot like WORK and trust me on this….work ain’t my thing these days.

Oh well…..they are all done now and I’m back to doing what I do best…creative loafing!

Back To The Tale….

Okay….so, when we left our tale, I had been arrested.

Well, very shortly after my apprehension, they threw my dumb ass into a jail cell which was only slightly more comfortable than a Porta-John but not nearly quite as sanitary. I’ve always been a bit of a germ phobic/clean freak sort of guy and I can tell you…I was shocked and appalled at my new living quarters! Man….it was something out of the movie ‘Papillion’. Okay, it wasn’t THAT bad but it was pretty damned horrible.

I must have sat in that filthy cell for at least four hours that day before the jailer came into hallway and slid the key in my door.

“C’mon kid, you’re gonna have a little talk with the Captain.” He smiled as he spoke. “I wouldn’t wanna be you.”

“Trust me…I ain’t exactly all shits and giggles about being me myself right now.” I lamented.

He looked at me and laughed.

“Now THAT’S funny!” He said. “I hope you can keep your sense of humor when they send your ass out to pick turnips ten hours a day at the prison farm.”

Holy Shit!!

Honestly…I was scared to death at that point.

He guided me down the hall towards a big steel door.

The jailer looked to be about forty years old. He had scars around his eyes that suggested that he had experienced more than a few rounds in the ring. I knew the look of an old boxer and he had it.

I asked him if he was fighter and he grinned.

“Oh yeah…but unfortunately, not much of a boxer.” He chuckled. “How’d you know?”

“My old man was a fighter in the Navy and I used to hang around the gym with some of the old guys.” I told him.

He grinned.

“Yep…I’m old and I used to fight.” He said. “Did you do it?”

“Do what?” I asked.

“Did you rob all those people?” He asked as though I was an idiot.

“No.” I said. “I didn’t rob anybody! Is that what they’re saying I did?”

He shook his big head.

“Oh yeah bubba….you’re in a whole world of shit.”

I remember feeling pretty overwhelmed.

Within minutes, I was sitting in the Captain’s office in a leather chair and eating dougnuts. I couldn’t believe it but…there I was eating my fill of pastries, drinking strong black coffee and shooting the breeze with the big jailer and a police captain who HAD to be just shy of ninety three years old!!

He looked like Strom Thurmond on the day he died!

Shortly after I walked in and was escorted to chair, the captain acknowledged my presence and told me that I was welcomed to have some doughnuts and coffee. At first, I didn’t catch what he had said because the words came out sounding something like…

“Gitshosell some cough ‘n sweeze son.” ( Get yourself some coffee and sweets son.)

Side Note….

I translate for those of you who may be unfamiliar with an extreme low country South Carolina drawl as well as the colloquialisms of that particular area of the country.

As a matter of fact, in South Carolina, “Sweets” are basically anything NOT pork or rice.

Back To The Tale….

The old captain watched me eat and drink coffee for a few minutes before he looked at the jailer and grinned.

“Dontcha wish you could still eat like that Delbert?” He laughed. “Ain’t nuttin’ but a young man can eat like ‘at!”

Delbert laughed.

The captain introduced himself.

“Son….mah name is Cap’n Coker but you can call me ‘Yes Sir’.” He drawled rather pleasantly. “ Ah need to get a statement from you ‘bout what happened at dat house d’other night.”

Now….I’d like to pretend that I held up to his brutal questioning in a way that Jack Baer would be envious of but let me tell you……

I broke down like a Lego roller coaster!

For the next hour I recalled exactly what had actually happened before, during and after the event. Hell, you would have thought that I was questioning myself! I was absolutely honest and thorough.

The only thing that stopped my re-telling of the entire affair was the occasional interruption from Cap’n Coker or ole Delbert the jailor who apparently did double duty as a cop.

After telling my tale, the old Cap’n looked at me for awhile without speaking. I swear that he stared at me for at least three minutes before he said a word. When he finally spoke, it wasn’t me to whom his words were addressed.

“Delbert….you b’lieve dis boy?” He asked quietly.

Damned if Delbert didn’t stare at me for yet another silent three minutes or so. I was going crazy in anticipation of what the hell was going to happen next.

Finally, Delbert looked at the Cap’n and spoke softly.

“Captain….I know a couple of them folks who he was s’posed to have robbed and I tend to believe this here boy.”

I couldn’t believe my ears! I had old Delbert on MY side!

Captain Coker considered this for a moment and slapped his desk.

“Well, by God…I do b’lieve dat ah b’lieve him too.” He smiled at me. “Howevah….the fact is dat we ain’t duh judge so….lock his ass dumb ass up till we figure dis out.”

I spent the next few days in that crappy cell until finally, I went before a judge and, to this day, I can’t remember the exact details of the legalities but, it went something like this.

Most of the ‘victims’ of the alleged crimes had blown town while the few who had been found were suspected by all involved, to be absolute liars. Thankfully, no one believed their stories.

HOWEVER….

Turns out, the judge had a real problem with the fact that I had taken justice into my own hands and, he said, was ‘duty bound’ to punish me. He regaled the courtroom with an elaborate speech about the value of the rule of law as opposed to ‘vigilante justice’ and proceeded to drop all the charges EXCEPT for something I think he called ‘entering a dwelling with the intent of whuppin’ some rednecks asses ‘cause they ganged up on you the day before’.

Or something like that.

They took me back to my cell that afternoon after informing me that my sentencing hearing would take place early the next morning.

As I brooded in my cell, Delbert the jailer showed up in the company of a tiny little dude in a Navy uniform.

“Ron….this is my brother in law. He’s a U.S. Navy recruiter and you need to talk to him.” He said flatly and then turned and walked away.

I don’t remember all the details but to be honest, I was definitely ‘all ears’ after the recruiter told me that I could avoid an eighteen months sentence at a prison farm if I agreed to sign up for ‘four short years’ in Uncle Sam’s Canoe Club.

They released me the next day after I stood before the judge and signed a document declaring that I was ‘volunteering’ for active duty in the U.S. Navy as a condition of the expunging of my criminal record.

Within one week I was heading for boot camp in Orlando, Florida.

Such is the story of how I ‘joined’ the Navy.

I may write soon of my time in the Navy. Trust me…it WAS eventful because as you all may have guessed…..

I didn't exactly 'fit in' in the Navy.

Until Next Time…