Hey there Jenn ... tomorrow I go in for my last treatment ...... it always knocks me out for two weeks ... so just give me a couple of weeks and I will contribute to the blog again.... But I will be fine again soon enough ... we got it under control ....
Good news is that during hallucinations which accompany the chemo .....I often come up with good stories........I will tell a quickie before I have to go get poisoned tomorrow...... Warm holiday wishes to all ...............
Struck Dumb by Lightning Bolts from Space
I think I have mentioned that.........because I sadly left Childress in 1960 at 14 years old......I always tell people that my childhood still lives in Childress. I mean......I have nothing but wonderful wonderful memories of Childress...... It was truly a Huckleberry Finn upraising.....
In my oil exploration industry.........I have worked....traveled.....visited about 40 or 50 countries......and I have gained a worldwide reputation for being a joke teller and story teller. I want you to know......that I have never exaggerated a story in my entire life!!!! Many of the stories are about my childhood in Childress.
I also want to say, before I start this story........that I have been blessed to be married to my high school sweetheart for 45 years...... She's the only gal for me.
Anyway, the story..........
As I mentioned to Jennifer once, I was scared witless when it came to girls. Big-time shy.......turned legless whenever one of the Childress gals came anywhere near me.
In the 7th grade, I once got dressed up in a tie for a church event and off I go. Once I got to the church, the vivacious June Prince came up to me and told me that I was "debonair". I assumed that was a French word for "ugly as a toad"......so I was devastated....destroyed.....crushed....shot through the head... tortured..... I left the church and went home....upset........ My Mom asked me why I was home so early...... I told her that June Prince had called me some weird French word and I was outta there..... I was leaving town forever....... Once my Mom told me what the word meant, I walked around with my jaw about half cocked for two days. But my new found arrogance was temporary.
At one time or another, I was secretly in love with every girl in Childress. Don Seal's big sister, Paula, was 4 years older than us. I used to calculate over and over.......lemme see......when I am 14....Paula is 18..... when I am 18......Paula will be 22........ Great!!! That's when we can be married.........all I have to do is screw up the courage to tell her...... I can get a job picking rags to support us....... I was studying hypnosis at the time and for her graduation I bought her this little trinket on a necklace........ I practiced hypnotizing her with the bauble to make her think I was a 14 year old Elvis........but that did not work either....alas..... She went off to college and married some Neanderthal from Phillips....... 'Twas one of my many heartbreaks.......
Anyway, that is not the story.........
In 1958.......we are in the 8th grade....... I am standing in front of the Old Fashion Freeze......just ordered a rainbow snowcone that can't be beat......and I am looking at the street jist a'slurpin' it down......
Coming from North to South......at that corner.......at the stop sign......is a brown '58 Ford...... It's being driven by Bettye Shahan......she is driving her Mother and Grandmother around......
She accelerates........and drives right past me.....looks up......sees me..... She takes her right hand off the steering wheel.......and OHMIGAWD!!!........ She waved that hand in a circular motion at me.....!!!!!
Immediately!!!!!.......who is Paula Seal?.......I am in LOVE!!!!!
She had driven two blocks before I got my jaw back in place.....my right hand was frozen in the open position where my rainbow snowcone had slipped thru and fallen to the pavement to be slurped up by my dog Max. I worked my way back up to the bench where some illegal immigrants helped me sit down to gain my breath........they flapped towels in my face to get my body temperature down......
After several minutes......I regained some composure......and got onto my bike to ride home. I ran off into several ditches.......my dog kept me from riding out in front of the trucks on the highway.....and somehow.... I made it home.......
My brother had to flagellate my body with thorned bushes to get me to return to Earth.
So to Bettye I say......"One never knows upon what shorelines your ripples fall."
Thursday, December 13, 2007
Good Tidings ... Great Joy ....
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9 comments:
Mike, it is good to hear that you are doing better ... and I admire your courage in discussing it in our "public" forum. I know there are many who read the blog who wish you well and will be sending good thoughts your way.
Loved the story, as usual ... and will be looking for more as you progress ... "hallucinations" or not ....
I talked to Mike Wednesday and he sounded great. I`m glad he gave you permission to inform the blog readers of his cancer recurrence.
Better late than never, I will try to re-create the narrative re Fateye Cordell, that I wrote previously but unfortunately was apparently eaten by gremlins. At least, it disappeared into the inner workings of this miserable computer.
Fateye and Nelda (his wife and both deceased) were members of our crowd in the '50s, but Fateye was probably better known by the majority of the Childress kids as Mgr. of the theaters, and possibly the owner. Even more important to the kids, he was Head Honcho of the Sat. Morning Birthday Club, held I think at the Palace theater. He was kidded endlessly by us that he was the biggest baby sitter in Childress.
I have noticed, in reading all of the posts written by various older and younger people, Fateye`s name has been mentioned numerous times, but only as Fateye. This leads me to believe the majority never knew his legal name, and were unaware he did not own the theaters. So to set the matter straight, and for the ones still in the dark, I offer this short narrative about Fateye that I learned during our 9 year sojourn in Childress.
Fateye and Buddy Cordell were brothers, and also nephews of Mrs. Pat (Della) Jones, who was the actual owner of the 2 theaters and drive-in. Buddy was a teller at the First State Bank, CEO Clarencie Harp`s bank, Jennifer`s Grand Father, and incidentally my banker. Fateye was Mgr. of the 3 theaters and also had a small farm, located a short distance from town. Also, as a matter of trivia, he also owned the first V6 Chevrolet Pick Up in Childress, purchased at Ragsdale Chevrolet, located on the NE corner of Commerce and Ave D. All of us thought he had made a very bad deal, thinking this would turn out to be Chevrolet`S version of the Edsel, (Man, were we wrong.) However, I have digressed. Naturally, Fateye was a nickname, as his legal name was Rowden Cordell. He was a very nice man!
I just read Mike's new blog. I love his stories! Somehow his youth was a lot more interesting and amusing than mine, and I love hearing about his memories. I'll look forward to hearing more from him.
Thanks for all your work. I love the site!
Mike,
I love this story! It could easily fit right into a Norman Rockwell painting of small town America.
Jim and I wish you the very best as you continue your treatments. As always our thoughts and prayers are with you and your family.
It is reassuring to see that you still have your great sense of humor!
Mike, I love your stories. Thanks for sharing your good humor.
I've been where you are. The chemo knocks you down, but not out. My oncologist called it his "Mack truck treatment."
Hang in there-----and bald is beautiful! Our thoughts and prayers are with you.
Also, hello to Driscilla. You can't imagine how much I've thought about you. We lost contact for several years. I'd love to hear from you.
It was also nice to hear from Linda Sally. Linda, our invitation still stands. Please stop by on your way to San Antonio.
And, again, thanks to Nicki & Jennifer for the blog. Jennifer, I agree with Linda Kay. You must get that poem published.
Della Layton!!! Jenn, I handled all the insurance losses for Pat Jones and Bill Mulkey`s agency, and remember when Pat was dating Della, he rec`d many tickets for speeding between Paducah and Childress. Then, after they were married and built that nice house at the end of North 12th St., near Annie Ruth and Dick Bell, he continued getting tickets for speeding between Childress and Paducah. The only difference was he didn`t make as many trips to Paducah after they married. Della Layton!! I`m glad you remembered, that has bothered me for years, trying to recall her married name. Incidentally, I seem to recall Mr. Layton had bought out Mr. Phipps before Mr. Layton died and Della was the sole owner of the theaters.
Another bit of trivia I recall...Pat was a graduate of Baylor Univ. and told me he had taken 4 years of Latin in college and the only time he had ever used that knowledge was to work crossword puzzles. Only in West Texas, but I loved it.
Girl, sometimes I think I know more about the people in Chilldress than those who have lived there their entire lives, but I can`t even come close to you. Compared to you, I rank a distant 2nd, very distant!
Driscilla, it is so good to see your name on the blog. It's been a long time since we were in class together, so I hope you'll hang with us, and maybe even share some stories ... or an update ... of your own.
Jim, many thanks for the Fat Eye story. And I'm glad I was able to resolve the Della Layton thing.
Yahn considers my "infernal" memory a mixed blessing ....
Clara, it is good to see you back here again. And thank you ....
)O(
What happens, when I`m recalling old memories of Childress in particular, is that I remember one occurrence, that in turn causes me to recall another, and so on. It's kind of a domino effect that seems to never have an ending. Don`t know whether that is good or bad, but that`s just the way it is.
I've told you about our putting contests at the Country Club's putting green, mostly on Friday nites when nothing else was going on. One Friday or Saturday nite, a bunch of us were at the CC, George and Pat Saied, Lyman and Neysa Davenport, Wilbur Don, Jerry and Jimmie Gay, and Lord only knows who else. Anyway, Lyman, George, Wilbur, Leo Woodring, Jerry and I decided to participate in one of our many putting contests, playing for $2.50 skins, that was a lot of money in those days. I went in the locker room to get my putter, and lo and behold, it was not there. I later learned Michael had been playing with it and had placed it in the wrong locker.
You have probably surmised none of us were feeling any pain, and I usually didn't imbibe when playing on the course, but on the putting green, there was no self imposed law against it. As well as I can remember, I didn't have a full set of clubs, only a 2, 5, 7, 9 iron, plus the missing putter, and 2 woods. Now remember, all of the clubs had steel shafts, that I proceeded to break each and every one over my knees. I started with my right knee, but It became so sore, I was compelled to change to my left knee, but eventually broke them all, except of course, the putter. I was unable to walk for about 2 days and you've never seen a more gruesome sight than the bruises on both my legs, from about 8 inches above and below my knee caps. Fortunately for me, Lornadee bought me a new full set of clubs for Xmas. That is, a new set, except a putter, that miraculously had reappeared in my locker. I believe it was after we had moved to Lubbock, that Mike got up enough courage to tell me what had caused my putter to disappear, then reappear a short time later. I also seem to recall everyone, but me, thought my breaking my golf clubs was the funniest thing they had ever seen. At the time, I didn't.
Jim Spradley, I just can not see you in this picture of breaking golf clubs over your knee! You must have been very intoxicated and VERY angry! It is probably a good thing that you didn't know Mike was the culprit or else you might have used his head instead of your knee! Funny story.
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