June 09 '01
Volume 262
Baccalaurate
Blues Felicia Graduates PHS
There was a time when I
looked
forward to Baccalaureate Sunday at First
Baptist Church, Pontotoc, but that was before it became a ritual. When it
was merely a means to recognize the graduating seniors who happened to also
attend FBC, life was good.
However, now that the Baccalaurate address has become something of a production,
life is not so good, and it puts me in the mind to frame a blues tune along
the lines of,
"I woke up dis moan'n, walked in the chuch house do'
Didn't have no place to set, so I just cried some mo'.
I got 'dem Bac-ca-laur-ate blu-oo-os, oh yeah, I do-oo-oo…
Got 'dem Bacca-laurate blu-os, dey make me sad fo' sho-o-o…oh-oh,
ohhh"
This year was less unpleasant than some of the productions of recent years
have been; at least, this year I only had to give up my pew to the parents
of the graduates being honored. I didn’t have to watch the parents do
much else other than stand as the son or daughter was recognized. Well, yes,
I did watch the parents process in with the son or daughter, but at least
they didn’t have to step to the front of the sanctuary and present anything
to the honored one as has been done on other occasions.
This year the ritual was simpler. As each senior addressed the congregation
from the pulpit, his or her parent or parents stood in what one can only
assume is a form of shared recognition. It's part of the ritual now to honor
the parents of the seniors, too. Each senior stated his or her name, along
with the name of the institution of higher learning that he or she would
be attending in the fall as well as his or her major subject area or interest.
Making the whole affair tolerable was the presence of my niece, Felicia Brown,
one of this year's seniors, who when it came time for her to address the
congregation, proudly stated, "My name is Felicia Brown. I am the daughter
of Sarah Carter Brown and the niece of Wayne and Barbara Carter. I plan to
attend THE University of Mississippi in the fall and major in elementary
education."
The stole that she wore bore the colors of those graduating with special
honors in having a four-year grade point average of 95 or above. It's hard
to say which of the following gave me cause to feel the most pride, "niece
of Wayne and Barbara Carter," "attend THE University of Mississippi," or
the fact she would be graduating with a high academic honor.
The high school years have been good for Felicia, during which she has matured
into a seemingly well adjusted young woman, and if she makes as much progress
over the next few years as she has in the past four, I'll strike the "seemingly."
I have noted her moving from being a shy prepubescent teen to her becoming
a confident and zestful high school graduate, poised to take on the world.
For the past few years she has held several part-time jobs, ranging from
baby sitter to clerk at Montgomery Drugs of Pontotoc. More recently, Felicia
tried out for and was accepted as a "Red Hot" dancer for the Tupelo Fire
Ants, an indoor-league football team. If she keeps her day job, she'll be
okay, since the payoff for being a "Red Hot" is in arena tickets to see the
Fire Ants play.
Felicia's good looks and quick wit (comes in some of the Carter genes) have
made her popular with her peers. She's selective in her dating choices, but
has no problems in keeping her calendar filled and is in no hurry to find
"Mr. Right."
Her power over the "men" in her life was evidenced as dates were being made
for the Junior/ Senior Prom. Felicia has a younger admirer who happens to
be my neighbor. He would have asked her to the prom but is himself an
underclassman. However, he was willing to allow Felicia and her date to borrow
his (dad's) BMW convertible for the prom. Fate disallowed the loan of the
vehicle as a frightened deer struck it while the dad was driving and the
BMW was still in the repair shop at the time of the prom.
Felicia's date for the prom was none other than her childhood heartthrob,
Jordan Ray, son of Debbie and Bob Ray, grandson of Max and Hattie Lee Akins,
and great grandson of the late Eunice and W.L. Carpenter. Incidentally, Jordan
was class valedictorian with Felicia out of the running, but not far, proudly
establishing her position as sixth in the class of one hundred three. In
thinking about the offer of the car and how I might have felt had I been
Jordan, I'm not so sure I would have wanted to have driven my date to the
prom using a car borrowed from a younger student who also had a crush on
my date.
There were a number of scholarships awarded to seniors during the graduation
ceremonies on May 25th. Though scholastically deserving, Felicia
did not receive any of the scholarship awards. Nonetheless, I am confident
that Felicia will fare well at Ole Miss.
Felicia, with the experience she will gain this summer as a "Red Hot," would
be a strong contender as a either a Rebelette or Junior Varsity Rebelette.
Both roles have scholarship monies available. However, she's not certain
that either is something she wants to do. Since Felicia has a few years of
band under her belt and is a capable clairnetist, she could possibly wind
up in Ole Miss's concert band. Meanwhile, her single mom has taken a second
job (part-time work) as she will now be striving to keep two in college.
Armoire La
More Furniture
Rayanne continues to find ways
to
improve the visual appeal of the interior of our Pontotoc
home. Her appetite for rearranging and redecorating exceeds the boundaries
of her Belmont home, so she loves to practice redoing Dad’s world. Since
our move into the acreage of Dogwood Circle, she has sought to follow her
instinct for furnishings as well as practice what she’s learned watching
home improvement shows on Home and Garden Television (HGTV).
The fact that she works for a furniture manufacturer is quite evident to
persons familiar with our former furnishings. Furniture keeps showing up
at my place whether I ask for it or not. I can’t complain about the
price (usually deeply discounted), but if as many items flow into my living
space during the next two years as have over the past two years, space may
be a problem, as expansion is not an option.
Our most recent acquisition, engineered by Rayanne, is a gigantic wooden
entertainment center fashioned as an armoire. It stands almost eight feet
high and must weigh nearly as much as me. It is a two-piece unit. The upper
part has two huge doors that open to expose its contents and each can be
recessed into the cabinet after opening. It is designed to hold a television
set approximately thirty-six inches square and has cubbyholes for a VCR and
for whatever else one might need a cubbyhole inside an entertainment center.
The base of the unit also has doors, but they are non-retractable. Shelves
and drawers constitute the left and right sides, respectively, of the base
unit. Manufactured using contrasting dark and light varnishes, the magnificent
structure dominates the living room replacing the fireplace as the
décor’s focal point.
The above picture gives one an idea of the immenseness of the armoire and
of Rayanne’s creativity in filling up the space inside the thirty-six
inch hole with our 19-inch TV and a few adornments. The TV may be lost in
the oversized cabinet, but, until money is available for a larger TV, it’ll
do nicely.
I’ve not asked Rayanne her motives in trying to help refurbish our home,
but she may be laying the groundwork for complicating Jason’s life after
Mom and Dad are gone. Jason may find himself with few possessions to claim
if the bulk of our estate has been built with Rayanne’s assistance.
I can imagine a conversation such as follows:
"I’d like to have that sofa table, Rayanne. It would work nicely at
my place."
"Well, you can just want all you want, Jason, but I got that table at work,
and I gave it to Mama and Daddy right after they bought this house."
"Yeah, but it didn’t have any legs when you got it."
"That’s right, but Anson and I bought some unfinished legs at the lumber
company and stained them to match the table top."
"Daddy paid for the legs."
"It doesn’t matter Jason, it’s my table top and my work that put
it all together, so I get the sofa table."
"Okay, Rayanne, then I’ll just take those three glass-top tables out
of the guest bedroom."
"No you won’t either, Jason. I won those at work and gave them to Mama
and Daddy. Now that they don’t need them, I’ll take them back.
You can have the Victrola and Daddy’s guitar, and you can have the living
room furniture if you want it."
"You’ve got to be kidding. What makes you think I want that flowery
printed stuff in my house."
"Your house?"
"Yeah, my house. Daddy called it the guesthouse, but I live there. Now that
they’re gone, I’m going to move into the main house."
"Like heck you will! Anson and I are moving to Pontotoc, and we’re going
to live in the main house."
"Sorry, you feel that way Rayanne, but I’m moving out of the guesthouse
and into this one next week."
And so it might well sound one day, for without a will, there is sure to
be a squabble between my two children over the "estate." However, with all
the medical bills that could be in our future, the "estate" may have to be
sold" long before Barbara and I pass from this earth. (PS: The title of this
article was a desperate attempt to be 'punny' on the part of the editor.)
Reader
Response Racism Charged
Readers of this newsletter are encouraged to express themselves via letters
to the Editor. Unsigned letters will not be considered for publication, let
alone taken seriously. Every signed letter is appreciated and consideration
will be given to publishing it at the discretion of the Editor. The follow
comment was received from
RRN subscriber.
I write in anger. How can any, fairly well read, fairly intelligent, Twenty-first
Century human being write such blatant, racist garbage as was found in May
25, 2001 Ridge Rider. To say school desegregation is a primary cause of the
current lack of discipline in our society. To make a statement as was made
that African-American parents told their kids "don’t let no white teacher
whip you"; what about the white parents that told their kids "don’t
let no N teacher whip you"?
Your singling out a race of people as a cause of any problem facing America
is unforgivable. Racism is a direct result of ignorance and fear. Ignorance
of the importance of any society, nation, religion or empire to see the worth
of every individual citizen, and to judge every person, no matter of color
or creed, by the content of the heart and their actions toward others. The
fear of which I speak, is the fear we "boomers" heard from the "greatest
generation" (at least in MS), "they (African-Americans) will take our jobs
and our homes." Racial fear, in my opinion, goes further, it also is the
fear of not having someone beneath one, as a class of people, i.e. the "poor
white trash" seems to be the largest group of haters of African-Americans.
Is there any chance you mixed up the Diazinon with ice tea, instead of the
herbicide? You sure spit out some poison. Wave your text over the kudzu a
few times and see the life go out of it. I sure received a jolt while being
in contact with your comments. Racism kills. Racism kills the hated and the
hater. We must be ever vigilant to avoid the taint of racism through our
words.
Granted the "Greatest Generation" passed along some good things to the "boomers",
but they also passed along, racism, hate, war, poverty, greed, intolerance
and hunger. Oh that our generation could eliminate many of these pestilences,
and leave a legacy of love.
Signed, Claude Jones
Editor: Let's split hairs, here. The article stated, that school
desegregation is largely responsible for the breakdown of discipline "in
the American classroom," not as the reader quoted, "in society." Our point
about the discipline by whipping had to do with the White's reaction to a
Black extreme. We recognize that many White students were told not to subject
themselves to punishment from a Black teacher.
We regret having offended any and/or all by stating our personal observations.
We laughed at the Diazinon/ iced tea connection which based on the reader's
observation may seem plausible to others, too. We have yet to try the method
suggested to stifle the advancement of kudzu, but have not ruled it out,
altogether.
Bodock Beau
Anagrams & Nude Nuns
Rumor is all around us, and for many of us it's as near as the closest mirror.
While playing with words people often allow the words to play on one another
and a pun results. However, when the letters of a word or phrase are scrambled,
they often produce a humorous outcome, too.
Consider the following, submitted by H.P. Prewett:
An anagram, as you all know, is a word or phrase made by transposing or
rearranging the letters of another word or phrase. The following are
exceptionally clever. Someone out there either has far too much spare time
or is deadly at Scrabble.
George Bush: He bugs Gore
Dormitory: Dirty Room
Evangelist: Evil's Agent
Desperation: A Rope Ends It
The Morse Code: Here Come Dots
Slot Machines: Cash Lost in 'em
Animosity: Is No Amity
Mother-in-law: Woman Hitler
Snooze Alarms: Alas! No More Z's
A Decimal Point: I'm a Dot in Place
The Earthquakes: That Queer Shake
Eleven plus two: Twelve plus one
And for the grand finale: President Clinton Of The USA: To copulate
he finds interns
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Painting Nuns
On a really hot day, four nuns were assigned to paint a room in their church.
After sweating for a few hours in their black robes, they decided to take
off all their clothes and paint in the nude.
An hour later, someone knocked on the door of the church.
"Who is it?" they called out.
"I'm the blind man," came the reply.
The nuns decided to let him in, since he wouldn't be able to see them. They
opened the door and led him to the room they were painting. They were surprised
when he walked around the room with no difficulty.
"Okay, sisters," he said, "where do you want the blinds?"
Submitted by Dena Kimbrell
Now, having read the silly tale, who else thinks it odd, the blind man knew
they were sisters, though they were not in their habits?
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