Which reminds me, when I was a bashful barefoot boy down on the farm, (SE Missouri, but not as far south as Sid) we had several head of milk cows. Of course they had to be milked morning and night.
The cows were kept in a pasture that consisted of about 20 acres of meadow and woods. This was their domain and the rest of the farm was devoted to raising crops. The cows would have to be rounded up every morning and evening and be brought into the barnyard to be milked.
That was a tiresome job but being only 5 or 6 years old at the time I missed that assignment and it was left up to someone else.
Things continued on their merry way until one day a small, shaggy dog wandered in to our little homestead.. He was hungry, so we fed him and he decided he might stay around for a spell. The first couple of days he spent observing how things operated and then on the third day he went out in the pasture, on his own, and came back with the cows.
That evening the same thing happened. Every day after that he would bring the cows in to the barn-yard, morning and evening at the same time. Looking back on it now I think he must have been partially border collie and had been in that line of work before. Smart as a whip and none of us taught him anything about herding cattle. He already knew what had to be done.
Then, after about a year, just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was gone, never to be seen or heard from again.
We never knew if someone stole him or he just decided to go back to his original home. Mom had named him Fred and we really missed him after he left.
True story.
The Day Of The Ufos
I was clearing out some second growth oak trees one day down on the old family farm. This was back when I was young and had more energy than common sense. Chain saws had not become very common yet and I was using an old fashioned double bit axe, not unlike the one Al Gore used to clear forty or fifty acres down on his pappy's farm in Tennessee. My Dad, unlike Al Gore's dad, was not a US Senator. No. Dad made an honest living-as a miner. A lead miner in Missouri's old Lead Belt. Dad was an honest man and honest men are hard to find and practically non-existent. Among politicians especially. When a politician says we want to he'p you you'd better grab the seat of your pants. Be that as it may, I was talking about chopping down oak trees. Anyone who knows anything about second growth oak knows it is much tougher than the original oak and trying to chop it really takes some starch out of you. I had been at it for about an hour when I figured it was about time to stop and have a cigarette and a drink of water.
I was sitting on a stump enjoying my cigarette and happened to look over across the valley and up on the next ridge where my Uncle Joe and Aunt Stella lived. To my surprise I saw a silver colored metallic object that looked like an inverted coffe cup, minus the handle. As I gazed at the object two more objects of the same size and shape emerged. They were almost directly over Uncle Joe's house, probably about 90 feet up. I couldn't tell if they made any kind of noise from where I was standing-about a mile and a half away. I don't know how long I looked at the objects. I don't know why or when I stopped lookng. I don't remember even starting to walk back to the house and didn't think a whole lot about it at the time. I have wondered about it since however. A lot. Were there really aliens in those craft? Why did I not wait until they had flown away or whatever? Or had I been abducted by the aliens? These are questions that will probably never be answered.
I had never heard of alien abductions at that time and I have no idea if thats what happened to me, but I have serious questions about the entire episode now. This happened in May and Uncle Joe died in October of the same year. I don't think there was any connection between the two events although I've always wondered why they were hovering over Joe's house. I had never told anyone about this experience for fear of being labeled as some kind of a nutcase. In recent years I finally realized that most people already considered me a nutcase so I thought to myself, "What have you got to lose by telling people about this?" I started out by testing this theory on my sister and sure enough she thought I was a nutcase, though she tried hard not to show it.
Mistaken Identity
When I was younger and thinner, I would quite often be mistaken for Stan Musial. One night I was sitting at the bar in a joint called the Shenandoah Club, when a slightly tipsy gentleman came in and sat down at an empty stool a few feet from me. I noticed him looking at me for several minutes. I began wondering if he was a funny boy. Finally he came over to where I was sitting and said, Stan Musial! This is a great honor, how are you doing? "I have often been mistaken for Stan Musial but I am not him", I replied. No, you are Stan Musial, said the man, I would recognize you anywhere. No", I insisted, "I most definitely am not Stan Musial". After denying that I was Stan for several minutes the guy insisted that I was, indeed Stan . You sound like Stan, you're left-handed like Stan, you look like Stan. You gotta be Stan. Feeling that it would be useless to continue denying that I was Stan I figured I might as well have some fun. Okay, I said. You are right, I am Stan, but keep it quiet, I don't want everyone here knowing it. Can I have your autograph?, asked the man. I signed Stan's name on the scratch pad he gave me, then the man happily left with a smile on his face. Poor guy probably thinks til this day he has Stan Musial's autograph.
Approaching Storm
When I look at this photo I think of Stuart Hamblin's song "This Old House". I don't remember where I got this photo. I did not take it. If it is copyrighted let me know and I will remove it.
Daniel Boone
After the Revolutionary War, Boone worked as a surveyor along the Ohio River and settled for a time in Kanawha County, Virginia (now West Virginia). In 1792, Kentucky was admitted into the Union as the 15th state. Litigation arose that questioned many settlers' title to their lands. Boone lost all his property due to lack of clear title. In 1799, he followed his son, Daniel Morgan Boone, to Missouri which was then under the dominion of Spain. Traveling by canoe, he and his family paddled down the Ohio River to St. Louis.
In 1800, Boone was appointed magistrate of the Femme Osage District in St. Charles County, Missouri. He received a large tract of land for his services. When Missouri was transferred to the United States as part of the Louisiana Purchase, Boone once again lost all his land, most of which was sold to satisfy creditors in Kentucky. Boone's wife Rebecca died on March 18, 1813. He spent his remaining years living in his son Nathan's home in the St. Charles area. He went on his final hunting trip at the age of 83.
Daniel Boone died on September 26, 1820 at the age of 85. In 1845 The remains of Boone and his wife were supposedly moved to Kentucky. But were they? The controversy continues til this day. Some say that the wrong remains were removed and taken to Kentucky and Daniel and his wife are still in Missouri. Modern DNA testing could probably solve the problem very quickly but both states seem hesitant to call for this test. Each state is probably afraid of losing their bragging rights if the test didn't favor them.
Daniel Boone gravesite near Marthasville, Mo.
Ice Cream for Dessert
When I lived in Farmington a neighbor and good friend used to tell a rather hilarious story about a couple of guys who lived in one of the little towns, Elvins. They both shared the same last name although they were'nt related. "Big man" and Little man" ----. (I'm not going to say what their last name was because I don't want to be sued by some surviving relative.)
Anyway "Big man's" wife died so after a couple of months "Little man's wife suggested to Little man that it would be nice if he invited Big man over for dinner. Little man of course did as his wife suggested. After dinner Little man's wife suggested to Little man that he go over to Flat River and get some ice cream for dessert. Of course Little man did as his wife suggested. This pretty much became standard practice, Big Man was invited over for dinner every week. Every week Little man had to go to Flat River to buy ice cream. One week Little man started to Flat River and he was struck with an idea. Why go all the way to Flat River to buy ice cream when he could buy it right there in Elvins. w This took considerably less time than going all the way to Flat River and he got back home in time to catch his "friend" and his wife in the act.
Little man was naturally angry about this and he screamed at them, "Just for that you two don't get any ice cream!!!!!"
--True story as related to DP. Whether it is true or not I have only the word of my friend and he has long since passed away.
The old barber shop-vanishing Americana
The barbershop is one of the last male-only get-together sites, and they are well along the road to extinction. It seems like they�re going in more for �salons� that cater to both sexes. Even the pool halls are mostly co-ed now. Traditional male only clubs are pretty much things of the past. There are still some male-only places like the Augusta National Golf Club, but most of us can't afford membership, and besides, you join that by invitation only.
I stopped by Charlie's barbershop a few months ago and there was a for lease sign in the window. The shop was empty. Not even a cob-web remained. Seems like Charlie�s wife had become seriously ill and her doctor had recommended a change of climate. So Charlie closed the shop after 53 years in the same location and left town. Didn�t even have time to say good-bye to all his old customers but he promised some that he would be back for visits from time to time.
A lot of male gossip went on in the old barber shops. I remember one time when I was probably about 14, Grandpa J***** ----came into the barbershop with his teen-age grand-daughter Dorothy. Dorothy was good-looking,knew it and knew how to use it. Old Charlie the barber thought she was very cute and mentioned to Grandpa J. that she was almost old enough to have a boyfriend. Grandpa J. was not pleased and said that his grand-daughter was too young and had better get any thoughts of that kind of foolishness out of her mind. Grandpa J. didn�t know it but grand daughter had already had quite a few �boyfriends�. I remember thinking, mouth, don�t grin.
The old male only barber shop is fast becoming a thing of the past. When I was a kid there seemed to be a barber shop on every other block but they are becoming very scarce now, being replaced by salons that cater to both sexes. I have lots of memories of the old time shops. Sometimes I think I have lived way past my alloted time. Things they are a changing as someone once said and I am beginning to have a tough time keeping up with the changes.
Thoughts about The Way Things Were
(I posted this article in Bill McClellan's forum in the Post-Dispatch)
Except for you and me I think this is a cyber space wasteland. Completely barren. Down home we used to have a saying about land like this: the land is so poor you couldn't raise a fight with a pitchfork and a gallon of whiskey. Very few self-respecting rattlesnakes even lived on some of that land. But, despite all the shortcomings it was home--a lot of good memories even though they didn't seem so good at the time. I remember one summer it was so dry and hadn't rained for so long the creek dried up and all the fish were trapped in one small hole of water. We seined them out and had a big fish fry that night. Had to eat 'em right away, there wasn't any way to keep them from spoiling back in those days.
Years later one of the old boys at work went for a two-week vacation down home in Mississippi. When he got back I asked him, "OC, how was everything down home?" His answer was "Hot, dry, and dusty." I said yep, thats how I remember it. Ah, memories. All good memories. Time has a way of letting us forget the bad ones, or at least smoothing them out a bit, while we await the return of the mother ship.
I was sitting on a stump enjoying my cigarette and happened to look over across the valley and up on the next ridge where my Uncle Joe and Aunt Stella lived. To my surprise I saw a silver colored metallic object that looked like an inverted coffe cup, minus the handle. As I gazed at the object two more objects of the same size and shape emerged. They were almost directly over Uncle Joe's house, probably about 90 feet up. I couldn't tell if they made any kind of noise from where I was standing-about a mile and a half away. I don't know how long I looked at the objects. I don't know why or when I stopped lookng. I don't remember even starting to walk back to the house and didn't think a whole lot about it at the time. I have wondered about it since however. A lot. Were there really aliens in those craft? Why did I not wait until they had flown away or whatever? Or had I been abducted by the aliens? These are questions that will probably never be answered.
