August 17 '02
Volume 324
Surprise Me
Oxford Soiree
Twenty-five years
ago
on August 16th, Elvis Presley died and effectively
abolished my hopes of one day becoming famous enough to have my name noted
in the history books as one born on the sixteenth of August. I grew up hoping
to learn of some important event that had happened on August 16th,
but until Elvis died nothing of monumental historical importance ever happened
on that date.
Twenty-five years ago on August 16th, my wife surprised me with
an unexpected party at our house on Eighth Street in Pontotoc. It must have
been a Tuesday, because Kenneth Prewett kept me playing golf most of the
day, and it was early evening when we topped the hill and I saw all manner
of cars parked in the driveway and along the street in front of my house.
I remember thinking, "Barbara’s having a Tupperware party and forgot
to tell me," for it did not occur to me a birthday party was about to begin.
Imagine my surprise finding a roomful of friends and relatives on hand to
wish me a happy birthday. I remember that day as one of the most fun-filled
times of my life. Gag gifts were the order of the day, and I received my
share of them. Farrah Fawcett was the undisputed sex symbol of the year,
and I recall Ann and Mac Huddleston presenting me with a tee shirt with a
likeness of Farrah on the front.
Over the past twenty-four years, I’ve tried to prepare myself for another
surprise birthday party. I’ve even announced to groups such as my Sunday
School Class that a surprise birthday party would be held at my house and
invited them to attend. There was no surprise party and no one came. With
each passing year, I figured the next year would be the year Barbara chose
to surprise me once more, but with each passing "next" year, it appeared
there would never be another surprise party for me.
Two years ago, Barbara did manage to surprise me with a birthday cake at
my high school graduating class’s fortieth reunion, and while I appreciated
the thought it wasn't really a surprise party, just for me. She claims it’s
hard to surprise me…that I’m too smart and can figure out her schemes
in advance. Don’t believe a word of it. That’s just her way of
getting out of doing the surprise thing.
More than twenty-five years ago, Kenneth and Louise Prewett, Bill and Katie
Jackson, and Barbara and I discovered we shared the same wedding anniversary,
at least the day and the month, namely August 20th, and we soon
began to jointly celebrate our anniversaries by dining out together on our
anniversary. It wasn’t long until we found other friends with anniversaries
near ours, and we invited them along, too. One year we had six or seven couples
on hand for the anniversary dinner. After ten or fifteen celebrations, it
became more and more difficult to juggle our busy schedules to accommodate
each other and as quietly as it had begun, we unofficially ceased our joint
celebrations.
A few weeks ago, Barbara mentioned to me that Dot Bell wanted us to join
her and Jerry this year to celebrate their anniversary dinner. The Bell's
wedding anniversary is August 9th, and in the past they had often
been along with the Prewett-Jackson-Carter anniversary celebrations. It sounded
like a good idea, and I gave my okay for us to eat at Seafood Junction near
Oxford, MS. I’m not "big" on seafood, but I had wanted to eat there
ever since learning that Pontotoc’s own Ed and Charlotte Foster had
purchased the restaurant.
Perhaps, I should have suspected something might be up when a change of plans
arose with regard to whom we were to ride with to the restaurant. At first,
Barbara told me we would be going with Dot and Jerry, but later I learned
the Jacksons and the Prewetts were also going and that we would ride with
the Prewetts. Still, I was not suspicious. After all, others had joined our
group on August 20th for many years, and I had no problem with
an earlier date. Friendships are far more important to me than particulars
such as choosing a date to celebrate, plus it would be an opportunity for
the anniversary group to get together again.
I made sure to have all my yard-work and car washing done early on Saturday,
August 10th, to allow plenty of time to clean up and be ready
to leave for the restaurant as soon as Kenneth closed the pharmacy, picked
up his wife, Louise, and arrived at our house. Kenneth and Louise arrived
shortly before six-thirty and we were soon underway. We followed a hearse
on our way out of town and jokingly speculated Jerry (an undertaker) was
driving it and that Bill and Katie Jackson were stretched out in the back.
However, when we later passed the hearse, the dark skinned driver was obviously
not Jerry.
Seafood Junction is a huge restaurant, with the capacity to seat several
hundred.
When we walked in, Barbara said, "I see Dot."
I asked, "Where?" and Barbara pointed toward a doorway leading into the east
part of the building.
I saw a dark brunette wearing a bright, canary-yellow top and agreed that
we had seen Dot. I was bringing up the rear of our foursome and beginning
to head toward the room where I had seen Dot Bell, when I saw another friend
waving an arm trying to catch my eye. Dena Kimbrell, her husband Bob, and
children Caitlyn, Hayden, and Gracie were finishing their meal.
I walked over to greet them, abandoning my own group, and was still chatting
minutes later when Barbara walked up to say, "There you are; I didn't know
where you'd gotten off to!"
Soon, thereafter, I was headed in the opposite direction, prepared to greet
the other anniversary folks. About midway into the east room I realized there
were a lot of folks at the table besides the anniversary group. For instance,
my daughter, two of her children, my sister and her daughter didn't fit the
anniversary mold. Yet neither did most of the rest of the crowd at the table.
To my credit, I figured it to be a birthday celebration seconds before everyone
broke into a chorus of Happy Birthday. Everyone or most everyone has
since commented that I did not act surprised. I told most of them I'm trained
that way, but I really was surprised.
I was surprised that I blew out all but four of the candles on the first
try and didn't pass out from the sudden loss of "cabin pressure." I was surprised
by the lighthouse-adorned cake inscribed, Happy Birthday Wayne, Still Shining
at 60 (Crafted by Sara Sue). I was surprised I didn't dissolve into a blubbering
sentimentalist, and I was later surprised to learn that certain friends picked
up the tab for not only Barbara's meal and mine but for the rest of my family,
too.
Guests had been told not to bring a present, which was okay, as I was made
happy by their presence. Plus I tend to value friendships above possessions,
or have I said that already?
Joel Hale brought along a humorous birthday card to which he added, "There
is life after sixty, but it's the pits!"
Those helping to make the evening special included: Charles and Betty Austin,
Jerry and Dot Bell, Joel and Shirley Hale, Neal and Virginia Huskison, Bill
and Katie Jackson, Kenneth and Louise Prewett, Floyd and Ruth McCullough,
Sarah and Felicia Brown, and Rayanne, Merilese and Katherine Adams.
The food was more delicious than I had imagined, and everyone appeared to
enjoy not only the food but the fellowship and the fun in surprising me.
Having spent most of the month of August in a mildly depressed state, I found
the evening spirit lifting. I left the restaurant that evening with a renewed
appreciation for the love shared among friends. I think everyone else did,
too.
For me, the only downside to the whole evening was being told the event did
not count as an anniversary dinner, meaning I'll have to find a time for
that later in the month, probably on August 20th.
Hauling Things
A Consideration
The things folks haul behind a pickup truck amaze me. I honestly don’t
know how my granddad got by without a pickup and a pull-behind trailer of
some sort. He died in 1960 at age seventy-nine, and as far as I know, he
never owned a motorized vehicle. If he did, perhaps a knowledgeable relative
will straighten out the kinks in my memory.
Granddad Carter may have hitched a few rides in trucks and automobiles, but
I remember him using a wagon pulled by a team of mules to traverse the two
or three miles from his home to downtown Thaxton, MS. Whatever hauling Granddad
needed done, he accomplished with his mules and wagon or with a slide which
was a poor-folks version of a sled.
I’ve some pretty vivid memories of riding to "town" in the wagon to
pick up some supplies at my Uncle Ernie’s General Store. Back then such
a journey seemed to take forever, and I believe I could have walked alongside
the wagon and kept up with the pace set by the mules. Of course, I could
not say the same for the trek back, if I were loaded down with supplies.
I never rode with him to the gristmill where field corn was ground into meal,
and I never rode the wagon to the cotton gin until after he moved to Pontotoc
a few years before he died. If Granddad was ever envious of folks who had
pickups and fancy means to haul things, I never picked up on it. I wonder
what he would think today of all the contraptions folks have for hauling.
I sometimes don’t know what to make of it myself.
It may be folks just plain have more money, expendable income, or more free
time than they had fifty years ago. Some have both the time and the money
and they spend it. I must have met a dozen vehicles pulling golf carts on
my way to Indianola the other morning, and I met roughly the same number
late the same afternoon as I drove toward Pontotoc. Most of these used a
trailer to transport the golf cart.
I’m sure the golfer's vehicles I met are not representative of all golfers,
but I did note that most of the vehicles were pickups and automobiles. There
were very few SUV’s. By the way, Lee Gordon tells me SUV stands for
Suburban Uh-tack Vehicle, and the intimidating way some women drive them,
I have to agree with him.
It seems on any given day, I see a plethora of trailers and now consider
it absurd that I once thought Cecil Pointer of Pontotoc had manufactured
enough trailers to exceed the national demand for a decade or more. Trailers
may have become the new status symbol for urbanites, and if not, perhaps
trailers serve as partial justification for even owning a pickup or SUV.
Boat trailers have been around for years, at least as long as portable boats
have been around. One doesn’t normally see an empty boat trailer on
the highway, but the same cannot be said for general-purpose trailers. I
sometimes think folks pull around an empty trailer just so others will know
they have one.
What few farmers there are left use trailers to transport farm stuff, like
the gigantic bales of hay or farm equipment from storage to field or from
field to field. Non-farmers are rather inventive. Flatbed trailers with a
foot-high side rail are often seen hauling household furnishing from one
abode to another, and are occasionally seen transporting a junked car and
sometimes an antique car.
Lawn care service providers have become the rage even in rural cities like
Pontotoc as an aging population who once did all of their own lawn care become
more dependent on others. Lawn care people were quick to utilize those
lightweight trailers that make heavy use of wire mesh in their construction.
I’ve seen some trailers that were customized by having racks built to
contain garden tools and/or gasoline powered weed-eaters and hedge trimmers.
For those drivers of pickups and SUV’s needing hauling devices more
secure than the open trailer system, an enclosed trailer is available. I’ve
no idea how much such things cost, and I have the feeling the folks who buy
them don’t care about the price as long as it meets their need. The
trailers I’m describing are the type of enclosure band members of yesterday
used to transport their sound equipment or instruments and are similar in
size to small U-Haul trailers. They come in all sizes, with some of them
large enough to serve as a substitute camper. Some painters and construction
workers use these for storage.
The two types of trailers I see less and less on the highways that I travel
are the horse trailer and the livestock trailer. The economic shift from
a largely agrarian society to one tied to manufacturing, distribution, and
service is likely the reason for the decline in agricultural traffic, that
and the demise of the small, family farm.
In Mississippi, we gravel our roadsides, so these days, I worry less about
having my car sprayed by a horse or cow in the trailer in front of me than
I do about possibility of the guy ahead of me on a two lane road pulling
the flatbed trailer that’s almost as wide as our lane drifting too far
to the right and spraying my windshield with rocks.
Whatever the reason for folks having one, I'm convinced there are more trailers
on the road than ever before and "of their increase" there may be no end.
Look for them, the next time you venture outside your neighborhood, and see
if you don't agree.
Bodock Beau
On The Lighter Side
I don’t think our editor has had much to say about human cloning, but
the following may be a good argument against it.
Not too long ago a scientist tried to clone himself. However, his clone was
very obnoxious and lewd, while the scientist was well received and respected.
Finally, fed up with his experiment gone wrong, he threw his clone
off the roof of the laboratory, killing the clone. He was arrested by the
local police for making an obscene clone fall.
Submitted by Ed Dandridge
A guy in a taxi wanted to speak to the driver so he leaned forward and tapped
him on the shoulder.
The driver screamed, jumped up in the air and yanked the wheel over. The
car mounted the curb, demolished a lamppost and came to a stop inches from
a shop window.
The startled passenger said, "I didn't mean to frighten you, I just wanted
to ask you something."
The Taxi driver said, "It's not your fault sir. It's my first day as a cab
driver. I've been driving a hearse for the past 25 years!"
++++++++++++++++
Mom and Dad were watching TV when Mom said, "I'm tired, and it's getting
late. I think I'll go to bed."
She went to the kitchen to make sandwiches for the next day's lunches. Rinsed
out the popcorn bowls, took meat out of the freezer for supper the following
evening, checked the cereal box levels, filled the sugar container, put spoons
and bowls on the table and started the coffee pot for brewing the next
morning.
She then put some wet clothes in the dryer, put a load of clothes into the
wash, ironed a shirt and secured a loose button. She picked up the game pieces
left on the table and put the telephone book back into the drawer. She watered
the plants, emptied a wastebasket and hung up a towel to dry.
She yawned and stretched and headed for the bedroom. She stopped by the desk
and wrote a note to the teacher, counted out some cash for the field trip,
and pulled a textbook out from hiding under the chair. She signed a birthday
card for a friend, addressed and stamped the envelope and wrote a quick note
for the grocery store. She put both near her purse.
Mom then washed her face with 3 in 1 cleanser, put on her Night Solution
& age fighting moisturizer, brushed and flossed her teeth and filed her
nails.
Dad called out, "I thought you were going to bed." "I'm on my way," she said.
She put some water into the dog's dish and put the cat outside, then made
sure the doors were locked.
She looked in on each of the kids and turned out their bedside lamp, hung
up a shirt, threw some dirty socks in the hamper, and had a brief conversation
with the one child still up doing homework.
In her own room, she set the alarm; laid out clothing for the next day,
straightened up the shoe rack. She added three things to her 6 most important
things to do list. She said her prayers, and visualized the accomplishment
of her goals.
About that time, Dad turned off the TV and announced to no one in particular.
"I'm going to bed." And he did...without another thought.
Anything extraordinary here? Wonder why women live longer? Cause they are
made for the long haul.
Contributed by Lisa B. Rolik
Yeah, it's a female thing, and it's here for the female reader. Yet, if she's
so super and all that, why didn't she check to see if her husband needed
anything while she was up. (B.B.)
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