Up Jump The Devil

My best friend in the whole wide world is Mildred. Halloween is a perfect time of the year to share with you one of the most wonderful joys of my life, more than a golden ticket from my favorite Barista, more than 90% off at my favorite store, this tops of my list of things I love--scaring Mildred. I just can't tell you how awesome it is. One thing to understand about scaring Mildred is that Mildred is a tough ol'bird. She's not afraid of tornadoes or walking in the baddest part of town at midnight, oh no bring it it on for her. She has no fear of "natural" things. No, no, see she's afraid of things that don't really happen in the natural world. I'll explain.

When Kendra and I lived in Oklahoma City and were working at Deer Creek we were good friends with the Triplett's. We spend many hours together; Mildred and her family, Kendra and Me, and the Triplett's sitting around either one's home and laughing until our belly's hurt and our tear ducts were dry. So much fun. I think for Kendra and Me the Triplett's house was our favorite place to hang out because we loved their house! It was in a very nice neighborhood of Oklahoma City called Blue Stem and the house was our dream of an absolute perfect house, now we say we would add one more bedroom since Teensy's surprise arrival almost a year ago (one month and 4 days to her 1st birthday). The floor plan was totally open and inviting, as were the Triplett's. I loved the kitchen and really liked cooking in there.

On one of our fun nights we were all cutting up and having a ball when Larry, sorry Pat and Larry Triplett, walked in the kitchen with this horrendous old man mask, that looked a lot like this one. Well Donna nearly dropped her contents! In addition to being really fun to scare she is even more fun to startle! It's really too easy to startle her, but it's still fun. Of course after she was startled we all got a HUGE classic Mildred lecture. As the night progressed, I decided it was time to pull out all of the stops. Mildred was at the sink, which had a window looking out over the side of their property. The street lights gave a blue haze to the dark night sky. I put that mask on and snuck around to the window and waited for her to get totally engrossed in a conversation. At just the right moment, up jump the devil! I popped up and caught her eye. She threw up her towel screamed and spun around! It took me a good five minutes to get off the ground because I was laughing so hard. She refused to look out that window any more that night, and really didn't want to go to the sink. The other thing to remember about Mildred is that when scared it usually marks her for life. Call her today and ask her about that night I jumped up at Pat and Larry's and we are RIGHT back to that night, and I get the same lecture as if it had just happened.

When Mildred's husband was on an out of town trip, for business, Mildred came over to the house to hang out with us. We always ate too much, laughed a lot, and just had fun together. This night was no exception other than we had decided to watch the Blair Witch Project. It was ALL the rage in 1999 and it seemed EVERYONE was talking about it. We started the movie about 10 or so. You have to understand that I'm not, so not, a night owl. I turn into a pumpkin around 10 and it just gets worse and worse at the night wears on. It drives Kendra crazy and Mildred too. I have never been a night owl, I'm a morning person. I say that to say, Blair Witch put me to sleep.


It didn't put Mildred to sleep, it put her in a state of absolute marked for life sheer terror. What makes this movie so believable is the way in which it was shot, like a home movie all bouncy and rough, not like a really fancy high dollar production. There is a part of the movie where this person is in a tent and children are all around the tent banging on it. Mildred was wrapped up in a blanket, peeking out with half an eye--totally and completely horrified. This movie ruined her.



The next day she was still ruined, still marked, still mortified that she had allowed her mind to open, even a crack, to the images and sounds of this now horror classic. It was all she could talk about. Mildred lives in the boon toolies about twenty minutes from civilization and the thought of her going back to her house...alone was all she could do. She just knew that little children would pop up and surround her house banging on the walls or something. She stayed with us for three days and then went over to the Triplett's for another three days. I really believe that she's still haunted by this movie--it really ruined her. I'm sure, not that she ever reads this blog, that she will get all tense and keyed up just reading this post. It's ok Mildred, they are all actors. My friend Tracy tells me that this happened in her neck of the woods. Since Mildred and Tracy are friends I'm sure it will come up in conversation (have you asked her about it yet, Tracy?)


Lastly, Mildred had not been on the world wide web for long when this happened, even though it seems she has been there ever since All Gore invented it. I had been after her for some time to get an email account set up. She has dial up which is totally frustrating to ALL of us, especially her. A few years ago I came across this cool picture of a kitchen/dining room and the challenge was to find something wrong with this picture. It came to me in an email, but I found it here and I'm so glad I did. Well the fun thing is as you stare at this picture you realize nothing is wrong, so you lean in closer, and closer when--up jump the devil! this monster face jumps up at you and screams. The first time I saw it I have to admit I jumped. I knew it would be fun to send to Mildred because she just simply could not resist the desire to find fault in this picture and there would be a for sure nose print on her screen. The only sad thing is I was not there to witness the shock. Mildred used to stay up into the wee hours of the morning pouring over the web and checking and responding to email. She was in this two peas in a bucket group and spent a lot of time there doing something. Well...sure enough she opened the picture and took the bait the picture was there and she was nose to nose with the screen when--up jump the devil.

She screamed, threw herself back from the computer in her rolling chair and ran out of the room. I'm sure her hands were close to her face, or covering her eyes. She was Ruined. She did not have her speakers on, or up one, because had that happened I think she would have completely dropped her contents and never touched her keyboard again. She knew she had to get that thing off the screen, but it kept poppin up and she just couldn't do it. So she covered her eyes and side step-slid, into the room waving her free arm around trying to find the computer. She finally managed to smack the screen and slide her hand down to the button to turn off her computer. I got the biggest lecture from her, lord o lord did I get a lecture. "William! I can't believe..." I really don't know what she said because I was laughing too hard. This happened at least seven years ago and she still won't open an attachment from me! How's that for holding a grudge.

Nowadays I just get my kicks out of making her think I'm bidding too early on her ravenous compulsive vintage ebay wallpaper purchases, but you gotta do what you gotta do. See since she has dial up and gets her connection dropped I get the supreme joy of doing her bidding--literally! It's just more fun that I have the ability to share, scaring Mildred. One more thing, Mildred....Boo!

Caped Fear

My Sister and I are four years apart in age, which is to say I basically grew up alone. We lived in the country at the junction of 76 and 86 highway in Neosho. These two highways came together at angles. If you picture a pie shape, our row of house was in the center right before the tip of the pie. There were six houses on our highway and none of them had children my age. I can't remember one time that I had a friend over in the seven years we lived there, except for Corbin Cornell whose mother dropped the reluctant lad off for a one hour trip into town. My cousin, Tiger, would come over but only on holiday or special occasions. I say that to say, my best friends growing up were my imagination and TV. I would get lost in my world and play for hours and hours on end and if I wasn't playing in my world, I was watching TV.

Saturday mornings, I would get up before the sun and make my way into the living room to watch TV. I can't tell you how many hours, collectively, I watched the color bars just waiting for the flag to be shown followed by the guy to com on the air and pray for the day. After the formality of the station revving up for its day of broadcast Super Friends came on, my favorite show! The Legion of Doom and the Hall of Justice was just awesome. I liked Aquaman the most, Hawk Girl and the Wonder Twins drove me out of my mind crazy--didn't like them at all. The Wonder Twins never did anything but get into trouble and cause the Super Heros more work. Gleek their mascot monkey was better than them. I wished them back to their home planet of Exor more times than I can count and wished the Wendy and Marvin would come back with Wonderdog.

I'm not sure why this popped up, but; there was a time in my life when I wondered to myself at what point the world became color. I had watched a lot of black and white TV and also color shows came along so I just knew that at some point in history things must have been black and white. Makes sense to me, how 'bout you? Pleasantville helped me out a lot in living through my thought process.

Super Friends entertained me for hours, I would just get spell bound wondering if my super friends would be able to survive the Legion of Doom's diabolical schemes. Even though Aquaman was my favorite superhero I would pretend to be Superman more than any other superhero, didn't swim much so Aquaman was just not an option, and since every super hero I became had a cape my dad made me a one to be superman. This was not a flowing red cloth cape...no, no...it was a heavy scratchy tweed cape. That's right lime green, dark green, yellow, and white striped tweed cape with a button to attach. I didn't care because that cape would transform me into Superman, Batman, or Hong Kong Phooie, and I would have super powers just like them. None of the super heroes, however, ever had an older sister who got her kicks out of waiting for her little super hero brother to come running through the house only to grab my cape and watch me flail to the ground--flat! She loved that! I hated it! Every time I wore my cape I ran around in fear of my pesky sister grabbing my cape. Dad thought he would fix the problem by writing a note on my cape, "Don't Tug on Superman's Cape" was written on my green striped tweed cape with Marks A Lot Black Marker. It was kind of the cherry atop my pathetic attempt at being a super hero. I still have that cape in my Mom's cedar chest and it still has the warning, thanks Jim Croce, for all to see.

I knew when the Super Friends would be showcased by the villain showcased. If Bizarro, Brainiac, Lex Luthor (who founded the legion), or Toyman were on it woudl be Superman's day to shine. If Black Manta was on Auqaman would be the lead of the day. Cheeta and Giganta were the arch enemies of Wonder Woman and if Giganta was on it meant that Apache Chief would guest appear to help Wonder Woman out. Riddler, Scarecrow, or Solomon Grundy meant that Batman and Robin were on their way. Sinestro's yellow ring always battled against the Green Lantern's green ring. Just loved the stuff!

Watching those shows now I see how hokey they were, but back then I ate it up! I still enjoy watching the old shows and remember most of the episodes and get all keyed up just like I used to.

I usually watched my shows until the beginning of American Bandstand, and we left to go to town with Granny. I was never interested in American Bandstand and really, really loved spending the day with my Granny.

Vacation long ago, go

The Summer of 1974, my family and I had been waiting in our green station wagon for our turn to get into Silver Dollar City. We knew we were close because we had passed the horse ranch which my sister and I always wanted to visit, "we aren't here to ride horses we are here to go to Silver Dollar City", but knew would never happen. We loved Silver Dollar City. We loved the walk up to the tram stop in parking lot C, we loved seeing the long green snake pull up, "howdy folks, welcome to Silver Dollar City, Please wait until the tram comes to a full and complete stop before loading, watch your head." The Silver Dollar City was the first of many rides that I looked forward to. I can still remember the heat of those metal seats burning my legs as I slid into the bench, scrunching close to my Dad. Mom never let me ride against the edge because she was afraid I would fall to my death...on a tram going no more than five miles an hour!
There weren't many rides compared to Six Flags (ST. Louis) or Worlds of Fun (Kansas City) but they were great. Sis and I always made our way to every one full excitement and anticipation. There was: Fire in the hole, Run a way mine train, Rube Dugan's Diving Bell, and the Train. Of course, you can't forget Marvel Cave which wasn't really a "ride" but totally cool to walk through. Mom never stepped foot in the Cave, Dad had to go. Mom just shopped while we did the cave.

The center of town was cool because we could ride a real mule driven stagecoach, or go through Tom Sawyer's tree house (which is closed), and stood mesmerized and all keyed up because the Hatfield's and McCoy's were at it again. I really believed the story and always had a tinge of fear that those guns were loaded. The Sheriff wanted to deputize me and I was reluctant because I just wasn't ready to defend the city against the bad guys. I remember well when the Plunge came to SDC and it was just awesome! I didn't care about getting wet back then, now I do care-A LOT! Plus the apple butter house was right by it and you could sample fresh apple butter--HOLY COW that stuff was good.

Vacations for my family were always an adventure because something had to go wrong. Thinking back it was as if our car knew we were getting ready to go somewhere and decided it would just breakdown. We always packed a cooler with bologna and bread, mustard for Dad, and drinks chips. We never ate out on the road, Dad didn't want to stop he just wanted to get there. We would stop for critical bathroom breaks (most of the time on the side of the road) because I had reached the point of no return. On our only trip to Florida, which we drove to, my family loves to point out that I had--HAD to stop in every state to, "leave my mark." When nature calls you just can't tell it to leave a message.

Silver Dollar City meant funnel cakes. I just love funnel cakes and looked forward to eating them every time I knew we were going. There is one place in the park that I prefer to get my cakes from and don't really thing the other places do justice, it has to be that place. It also meant salt water taffy. Watching that taffy machine crank out fresh batches of taffy just brought joy to my heart. Plus, they give you free samples and for a boy who wasn't allowed to get souvenirs or was given spending money--free samples meant a lot! We did by the souvenir glass mugs because it meant cheaper refills. They have since become plastic mugs, but the glass ones were really cool. SDC has unfortunately become a fan of huge skillets that cook a goulash kind of conglomeration, which I am OUT on-Totally! I just can't stand the smell or sight of these huge vats of mixed up food stewing away. This picture does not do justice to the "real" sight of such a thing. I can't really describe it other than to say it looks like some took a compost buckets contents and decided to cook it over an open fire and add stagnant swamp water to it. BLECH!

We also ate lunch in the lost Mine, I don't think that I've eaten in any other place at SDC--ever. The Mine is a cool place, underground below the Fried Chicken place. You eat on tin plates and drink out of tin cups. The cornbread is just the best I've ever had. It is a buffet, but it feels like a cafeteria. Love the Mine. The Mine also had a special table which slowly crept up as you ate. By the time you were through eating it was about four or five inches higher than before. It was really fun to watch people who didn't know the table grew and see them try to fight off the feeling that they are losing their minds. So cool. By the way the picture to my right, taken from the SDC website does not--NOT portray the true visual experience of the Mine because the food does not look that good.

Hannah's Ice Cream Parlor is a true old fashioned ice cream parlor that I love. The blackberry ice cream would make anyone decide it's ok to be fat! I'm telling you it is incredible. They make the stuff right there on the sight in huge ice cream churns. They look just like the wooden bucket ice cream makers we all know, only super sized to 10 gallon not one gallon. So cool to see these things churning out such delectable confections--I'm a huge fan of ice cream. Just love it and Hannah's is the best place for Ice Cream ever!

Around 1980 or so I had a brush with celebrity. I will never forget walking by Grandpa Jones in the Park, "Hi Grandpa!", "Howdy son." He said, "Howdy son" to me--Me! Silver Dollar City had just built this huge amphitheater and showcased the Darlin Band from Andy Griffith fame. Grandpa Jones had come as a special guest. So cool to see a real live celebrity. The amphitheater called Echo Hollow opened after the park closed which meant you could stay a little longer and then go enjoy a good show. I loved the fact that the band that played with Andy Griffith was actually playing for me Live! They were really great and we always enjoyed the show. I don't' know who does the show now, but for the longest time we went to see the Darlin's at SDC. When I was a kid the end of the park was Echo Hollow but it has since grown on beyond.

We just wrapped up a trip to Branson and SDC where we took Teensy and the boys and it is just as I remember it. So much has changed and the park has really grown up, but so much is still the same as I remember it when I was a kid. Knowing that my boys can walk the same paths that I walked at their age and ride the same rides (some have been removed though, but that kind of ruins the nostalgia) is awesome. We had Teensy last year when we went to SDC and didn't know it. This year she rode in a stroller and not in her Momma belly! I got tickled at Kendra because she commented that, "these hills aren't as bad this year as they were last." There are some really steep hills you have to walk, and when you are pregnant and don't know it it's really bad!

I had the same feeling of melancholy when we left the park on Friday, a week ago, as I did when we left park in 1974 and years following. When would I get to come back to this wonderland and enjoy the freedom of fun. Waiting another year just didn't seem fair to me. These memories wrap around me like a warm blanket and just keep my soul cozy. Silver Dollar City is a good, good friend.

Memory Lane: Etta Caywood

One of the sweetest ladies I have ever in my life met was Etta Caywood. She was the mother of my loser uncle David. He married my Dad's only sister, Auntie Ilene, and they had two children, Tiger and Julie. While David wasn't worth the powder it would take to blow his brains out, Etta was a jewel. My heart is so happy right now as I'm pulling up all of the Etta love I have for her.

Etta always sat on our pew in church. She sat next to my Grandmother and drove her crazy. Etta was a fidgeting non-stop mover. She was always adjusting the white sweater that she had permanently draped over her shoulders, or digging in her purse for the Fig Newtons she ate during church, or getting her finger nail clippers out for a quick trim. She was just fidgety and Grandmother hated fidgeters. Etta made change in the collection plate. In the Church of Christ we celebrate communion every Sunday and immediately following communion we pass the collection plate to get funds. Each week as the plate came by Etta would place the plate on her lap drop in her bill and take out the change. Grandmother would just huff! Loved it. At some point in the service Etta would lean over to Grandmother and say, "Newton...Velva?" Oh how that made my Grandmother's blood boil. I've posted this before, here.

Etta looked like Granny Clampet from the Beverly Hillbillies with Queen Elizabeth's hair and Aunt Bee's wardrobe (does that do it for ya?). Her lips always glistened and were very taught, I think from false teeth that were not quite a right fit. She also had a constant smile on her face and was just absolute sugar sweet. She smelled of Ponds Cold Cream, with an ever so slight Fig newton aroma. Etta had an elastaband watch with a Kleenex stuffed in it. I can't quite figure out how one old lady with a used Kleenex and clean up a 10 gallon spill and still use the Kleenex when I have to have a shop vac and 10 rolls of paper towel. How do they do that?

Etta's house was warm and wonderful. She lived on the Corner of Hearall and Delaware. Her house was built into a hill, as most homes in Neosho were. It was a White house with a perfectly manicured lawn. She had a stone wall surrounding her property which only went up to about two maybe three feet. Atop the wall was an old fashioned fence. It was like wire hanger wire made into connected arches, very cool. You parked on Hearall, walked to the gate, stepped down about four steps to the walk and went up to her house. The house was a white asbestos tile home, very tiny. It only had a living room, bedroom, bathroom, dining room, and kitchen which was the smallest kitchen I've ever seen in my life. I would guess the kitchen floor was 3x6, literally one person could stand in that kitchen and no one else. There was a door in the kitchen which took you outside to the yard. The two car garage that faced Delaware Street was bigger than her house. It had all kinds of wonderful stuff in there, but I wasn't' allowed in there. Had she been my Grandmother, you better bet I'd be in there.

Etta's kitchen being so small, she kept her refrigerator in the dining room. She had Milkmaid wallpaper and a linoleum that had turquoise and gold glitter in it.

There were three things that stood out in my mind which came from Etta's kitchen. First, popcorn balls. Her popcorn balls were hands down the best popcorn balls I have ever eaten in my life. Every Halloween we made a bee line to Etta's house for popcorn balls. They were the size of softballs, sweet, not sticky, somewhat salty, and all perfectly shaped and wrapped. She only made them on Halloween and they were a treat. I don't really like popcorn (gets stuck in your teeth) or sticky stuff that much, but I would eat her popcorn balls. I'm getting a craving for them right now, blast! Secondly, her grilled bologna and cheese sandwiches. She always put about two-three tablespoons of butter in her cast iron skillet, made three cuts in the bologna and fried it in the butter. As the bologna was cooking she buttered the super soft white bread, the bologna was put on a blue Melamie plate while she cooked the cheese sandwiches. I didn't really care for the fried bologna and cheese sandwiches because they were served with tomato soup which I despise. The sandwiches were ok, but I prefer my bologna cold with iceberg lettuce, white bread the kind that sticks to the roof of your mouth, mayonnaise, and cheese thank you very much. Last, but certainly not least: Macaroni and Cheese.

Etta's macaroni and cheese was off-brand Kraft macaroni and cheese, never anything else but that. She always served it in shallow soup bowls. Tiger and I would be called to the table and there sat our macaroni and cheese. She cooked the noodles until they were very, very done, no al denta here more like al mooshay. The milk, butter, salt and pepper were added as well, but no cheese. As we sat down she would come in with her sweet, lovely smile, "would you like some cheese?" "yes please." At that point she would take the envelope which had been carefully cut open with scissors and sprinkle some cheese over my bowl of macaroni. Hands down this is the most bizarre way I have ever, ever eaten mac&cheese. I wanted desperately for her to just dump that cheese in the pan and serve it like every American in the universe does, but she was so sweet I just couldn't say anything.

I truly loved this sweet, sweet lady and hated how her only son treated her and how her only grandchildren hated her. It was my goal to let her know how much I loved her and I have to this day longed for her to be my "other" grandmother. Had I had her and my Granny to love me there's not telling how my life would have been different however I have no desire to be the spawn of her wretched and horrible son. I'll have a post about him...maybe.

In the kitchen with Moron

I've posted many, many times my love for cooking and as a matter of fact I can smell the aroma of brownies filling the house as I type...mood music! Before I actually had somewhat of a clue in the kitchen I made some horrific mistakes and still cause my family to cringe at the thought of them. Hey what can I say...I'm a Moron. So...here I share two tales from my vast collection of cooking disasters created in the kitchen's of my youth.

Grilled Cheese briquette anyone?

I really like grilled cheese sandwiches when I was a kid. My favorite thing to do with grilled cheese was try to get all the melted cheese out of the sandwich then devour the cheesy, toasty, buttery bread...mmmm. Etta Caywood always made fried bologna and cheese sandwiches, not my favorite. I'll have to post an Etta's kitchen story soon, before I forget--it's a humdinger. The coldest possible glass of milk had to be on hand and guzzled, I guzzle my milk and do not slowly sip because it gets tepid too quick.

Mom and I were at Grandmother's house, which in and of itself was just amazing, I think because Mom was getting some sewing help from Grandma. Again, it's such a bizarre thing for this event, I might have just blocked the whole memory out...except for what was about to happen. I have to check the brownies...they smell done. Sure enough...where was I--oh yes. I was really hungry and asked Mom when we would be leaving because I was hungry. It took a lot of nerve to get me off the couch and into the "other" room as I wasn't' really allowed in parts of Grandmother's house other than the sofa or outside.

"Mom...when are we leaving? I'm starving." "You're hungry? Well you just ate dinner didn't you?" "Yes Ma'am we did but I'm still hungry." "Well you can go make yourself a cheese sandwich--don't make a mess!" Grandmother had allowed me into the kitchen! Allowed me into the fridge...the wardrobe had opened and I was surely stepping into Narnia. It was the only time I ever, ever felt free at her house.

I got the bread, margarine, cheese, knife, spatula, and cast iron square griddle out for my culinary adventure. Keep in mind that I'm around 9-12 here, Poppa was dead and he died when I 8, so it was for sure after that, and had no clue about making a grilled cheese sandwich. I thought I had all of the principles of grilled cooking down, but oh how wrong I was.

1. Turn on gas stove to full throttle, NASA hot.

2. Place skillet on stove to get smokin hot.

3. Butter bread with cold margarine which tears holes in bread.

4. Waft smoke from smokin hot griddle and slap on said holy bread.

5. Stand amazed at the amount of smoke created by this simple step.

6. Place cheese on bread as it is emitting a rather choking black smoke.

Dilemma...how does the cheese melt? It must melt on the skillet.

7. Use spatula to scrape black bread from skillet and flip over onto skillet allowing cheese to make contact.

8. Note: Cheese when burning at a high rate will actually flame up. When that happens scream!

"HELP! HELP! FIRE!" "What in God's name...!" Grandmother and mother were both in the kitchen which had a dense Jersey like fog hanging over it and quickly sprang into action. "Son...what were you thinking?" Holding back the tears...it was shear terror I assure you. "I was just hungry and didn't know how to melt the cheese" Grandmother wasn't happy at all and let me know it. While everyone else in the family can laugh about it (I'm snickering right now) I don't think Grandmother has yet to laugh about it. I never did get to eat.

Paul Prudhomme...you are safe!

About 1985 or 6 I was enamoured with Creole cooking especially blackening. Blackened chicken was everywhere! Paul Prudhomme was the quintessential Creole cook and lead, I think he might have even invented, in teaching the world about blackening. I was all for it, until I learned that it is hot...really hot and i don't do hot--at all.

I pulled dinner duty usually and tired to shake things up a bit when i cooked, wanting to try different things and not just have the same old same old. One particular night...sis was gone and Mom was working late which left Dad and me home alone. I couldn't talk Dad into a pizza or anything else outside of our house and offered to cook. Blackened cube steak sounded good.

I had no idea what blackening seasoning was, but I knew it looked red and then turned black. What seasoning in our pantry looks red? Lawry's seasoned salt, of course! I poured about 1 cup of the seasoning in a plate to dredge the steaks in. I got the skillet ready (medium heat is as high as I ever go--lesson learned) and dredged the steaks in the salt. They fried up great...looked just like blackened meat.

"Here you go Dad." "What's this?" "Blackened cube steak." "Bl...ack...ened? Do you know how to do that? I didn't think we had the stuff to do that." "OHHH YEAH we had everything we needed." Dad's first bite was also his last. "PFFFFSSSTD This is horrible, it tastes like crap." He was right, it was horrible. The steak tasted like a salt lick, nothing but pure salt. It was disgusting. "Don't try that again--ever, ok son?" "Ok Dad."

I'll have to get Mildred to tell you about the time I convinced her to corrupt her delicious, mouth-watering cherry cobbler. I feel a guest post coming...are you up to it Mil?

The Don Juan named Ronald

My sister was always very concerned about her image and her status in the whole scheme of high school life. She was determined to run with a crowd that met her high standards of living, even though we were not "of means" like the kids she wanted to run with. She had a lot of friends and got into her fair share of trouble... those are stories for another day.

When sis started dating she set her sights on the boys who were of means, regardless of their 'coolness." One such stud was a boy named Ronald (picture the love child of Dudley Moore and the guy from Mad comics...got it? Ok, moving on.) Ronald's dad owned one of the nicest department stores in Neosho, they carried very nice clothes and my parents would never spend what the clothes in that store cost. He just so happened to attend our church, too. Bonus! Mom and Dad would let her "go out" with a good church boy from school whose parents owned a department store downtown.

The first date that sis went on with Ronald was a hay ride for church. It was Fall, the air was cool and crisp with the smell of fallen leaves filling the air...the beauty of scents that stir up the memories of fall were far out weighed by the dense, thick, heavy odor of that wagon full of hormonal teenagers looking to get whatever they could get. Ronald was among the hopeful. See, sis had been kind of flirty at school which automatically leads a hormonal boy to the conclusion that "she" is a doorknob--everyone gets a turn! What they didn't know is that sis was about as far away from being easy as you could get. She was a prude, with a sharp left hook!

As Ronald and sis snuck off to the seclusion of darkness I'm sure he was ready for his night of 1,000 pleasures with all of his hopes and dreams coming true through my sister. He did manage to kiss her, but when his hands thought they were the yellow pages and he would let his fingers do some walking, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" She put the kibosh on that boy's dreams lickity split. She was not giving up anything to him, let a lone anyone else who hadn't proposed and married her! Poor Ronald dejected and let down went back to the wagon with shattered dreams and a date that had the pursed lips of disapproval. Sis can give you a cold stare that would cause the sun to shutter!

Back at school on Monday, Ronald began to spin a tale, a huge false tale that put him in the club of "men" those men who flexed their muscle and showed their girl a thing or two about how the west was one. Yep, ol' Ron had his way with, "that Spoon girl" and then dumped her. One more notch in the belt of the Don Juan, named Ronald. The only problem with his plan was the fact that gossip when planted in fertile soil will grow like a weed, think Seamore's pet in Little Shop of Horrors. The rumor came back to sis, she was devastated. The devastation lasted for approximately 45 seconds before the rage set in. She was hot! When sis is hot, she gets revenge no holds barred!

One of her best friends at the time was Karen, a very ornery gal I must say. She and Karen really got into some doosies. Well...they cooked up this plan to get Ronald back, and good. All they needed was a night that we, Mom, Dad, and me, were gone...Friday night, our weekly trip to Joplin took hours.

"Ronald?...hey this is Lesa...good...say I was thinking about the hayride....no, don't be sorry because I've been thinking that I was wrong to turn you away...right...what are you doing tonight? Mom, Dad, and Will are gone, you could come over if you wanted too....10 minutes great...wear something sexy." The trap was set! Ronald lived just up the hill from us. He ran as fast as he could to our house and made it in like 8 minutes.

Our house on Pineville Road was great. We had a big back yard, with a nice patio and sliding glass doors. The patio led into our den area which had a two step entrance into our laundry room, which connected to our kitchen. There was also a two step entrance into our formal living room which lead to our kitchen. Basically it was one big connecting circle.

Sis had put on a shirt and shorts...then a robe to make it look like she was naked. Karen was going to hide in the laundry room and run back up for Sis if ol' hormone tried to make a break for back door. Oh yes...there was a pistol and a shotgun involved. Sis had my Dad's Reuger in her robe and Karen had Dad's shotgun and hid in the laundry room. They were going to get him and get him good!

Ronald made it to the house in record time, driven no doubt by his pent up hormonal teenage charisma. "Hey beautiful...pant, pant, pant...came as quick as I could. So no one is home?" "Nope, not a soul come on in...you look nice tonight." "Let's go into the den and get comfortable, I'm going to go to the bathroom, get comfortable." "OK, beautiful." As tiger bounded off onto an adventure into the 100 acre wood, so did ol' ron bounce into the den and strip down to his bikini briefs. RED SATIN BIKINIS.

When Lesa saw him standing there in all of his dorky glory is was all she could do not to bust out laughing, but she had a plan to execute. "Ronald...before we get started I have a question to ask." "OK, anything, you can ask me anything." "Well, do you know who started the rumor that you and I slept together at the hayride?" "What? no, I don't' know, let's not talk let's just get started." "Well, it's been bothering me because you and I both know that nothing happened on that hay ride, and well...I know it was you who spread the rumor." "I wouldn't do that to you beautiful." "Oh yes you would, you wanted to look good didn't you, you wanted your friends to think you took advantage of me and had your way with me, I now exactly what and why you did what you did. You pig. I'm going to get you back for it and tonight's the night."

That's when she pulled the Reuger out of her robe and pointed it straight at him. I'm sure, sure Ronald emptied his contents right their on the spot! "Oh my Gosh, Lesa, holy cow, now wait a minute here, I was only joking, I didn't mean it, honest. Is that thing loaded?" "It can get the job done. Do you know how embarrassing that was to me? Do you have any idea how mad I am and hurt I am that you ruined my reputation?" "I'm so sorry. I'll go fix it on Monday I promise, I swear I'll fix it, please don't' kill me, please."

It was at that point that Ronald decided to make a run for the back door. As he was running toward the door, Karen leaped from the laundry room holding the shot gun, "HA! Don't move creep!" "OH crap!" Ronald was standing in our den, wearing nothing but red satin bikini underwear as two girls were holding him hostage at gun point.

Karen was a tough ol' gal. She was a tomboy deluxe. Played softball, basketball, I think she might have played football if the coaches would have let her. She looked like the love child of Erin Moran (Jonie from happy days) during the perm years, and Andre the giant. Not a beautiful person, but no one ever said anything because she would beat the crap out of you.

"Please don't kill me, please don't kill me I'll do anything, please." He was crying and convinced that Lesa and Karen were going to shoot first and ask questions later. "You better go back to school on Monday and tell everyone you know that you didn't do anything to me, I'm letting you go this time, but if I ever hear about you talking about me behind my back again, I won't let you go." "OK, thank you, oh crap, thank you."

Lesa and Karen watched Ronald run home, up the hill in his red satin bikini underwear as he was trying to hold his clothes. The laughed and laughed and laughed. Ol' Ronald had been punk'd by the best and would never forget that night again.

He did as he said and tried to reverse the story, but the damage had been done. Sis was a marked woman, but she didn't care because she would start dating my future brother-in-law soon anyway.

There were times that Karen and Lesa would look at Ronald during church and close one eye, raise their gun fingers in the air and mouth, "bang." His eyes would get as big as silver dollars and he would turn away.

I can still laugh out loud as I think of this story. It never gets old or tired, I just love it. I have a beautiful mental picture of every second as it ticked away, and just love every detail. I wonder if old Ronald ever met anyone, he probably made darn sure they didn't own a gun!

Six Years...just yesterday

Tomorrow marks the sixth year of the 9/11 attack. Hard to believe that it was that long ago. That day started just as any other day in my very routing life. Kendra was working at Kelle-Harvel Elementary, and I was getting ready to leave. As was my custom I watched the Today show from my bathroom mirror. I could get ready and watch everything in reverse, even while showering. There were times that I would get sucked in and be late to the office, but I was usually on task. 9/11/01 would be a totally different story though.

I can remember hearing Katie bringing the latest breaking news of a building that had crashed into the World Trade Center--shocking. Then she and Matt went on to talk about how a plane had flown into the Empire State building in 1945, so while not unheard of it was still an unusual event. That is when the camera went to the live video and showed the tower smoldering and puking out it's black smoke. I will for as long as I live never forget what I saw next...as Matt Lauer was talking I saw a black dot rise from the bottom right of my TV and slowly crawl up until WHAM! the second plane crashed into the second tower. "Oh my God...another plane has hit the World Trade Center...this is not an accident." Matt and Katie were exactly right it wasn't an accident and I wasn't moving from my spot.

I couldn't move...I was frozen as I watched the TV and yet I was reliving what I had just witnessed--the crash. I couldn't believe what I had seen and couldn't believe that there could be such a blatant attack on our soil. I remember the cold wave of sorrow and fear rush over my body and knowing that life as I had known it one minute ago would never again be. I was in the middle of the making of an historical event. What was I doing? Just standing there frozen in my bedroom. The news feed of course went straight to full on 24/7 coverage and they brought in Tom Browkaw to handle the heavy hitting news since the morning folks couldn't handle such a big story. I wanted Matt and Katie to be with me and comfort my Psyche, but Tom would do.

I called Kendra, and my family to make sure they were aware and as tuned into this story as I was and of course, they were. Then I did what I always do when such an event occurs...I called Mildred. There was no one else alive who could hang with me through rambling conversations and anecdotal comments. My sweet wife is not a phone chatter and couldn't talk since she was at school. We would have been planted on the couch in our PJ's watching this unfold had it been any other day. As the government flexed it's muscle in an effort to abate any further attack, shutting down US airspace for the first time in aviation history, etc. and the news reports continue with covering this disaster. Then, almost one hour later..."we've just received word that a plane has struck the Pentagon...another plane has struck our nation--we are under attack." Our Nation was under attack and I was beginning to panic. I can remember real fear coming over me. Would I see tanks on my street? Would I see armed military guards marching into my neighborhood? What in the sam hill would I use to defend myself in the event of a house by house invasion? I didn't own a gun? I didn't have stores of supplies built up to the point that I could survive on my own--I am totally dependant upon the food industry to supply my needs. I could break down all of the wood furniture in my house and burn it..did I own matches? I was really starting to get keyed up. Mildred assured me that I was being totally ridiculous and should just calm down, she was right.

After the plane in Shanksville crashed and the news assured me that the skies were safe I felt that at least the worst of the attacks were over and that now it would just be the horrible and awful task of living through this nightmare. Buildings around the Trade Centers were collapsing now (both towers ha already come down) and they were talking about the firefighters that were in the buildings doing search and rescue and all of the people who were lost. I just could not get in touch with the absolute desolate fear that the folks in New York must have been feeling. I could not come into contact with how I was feeling let alone how they were feeling. It wasn't in my backyard, but hundreds of miles away and yet I just could not come to grips with it.

I can still find myself riffling through all of the images in an effort to somehow wrap my brain around it and yet just can't seem to come to grips with it at all. It was an unbelievable day, actually the rest of the month was unbelievable as I saturated myself with the stories and listened to the stories of the survivors who lived through these horrid days. Teensy and the boys are all post 9/11 babies and will only know about this in the history books. What events of their life will mark them forever? What events will they look back upon and recall in real time as if it were actually unfolding. It's wishful thinking to hope that nothing like "this" will ever happen again, it will. Kendra and I just hope and pray that our sweet cherubs aren't involved in any other capacity other than spectator.