I once told a luv I'd show her around the world
As a blossoming dogwood our dreams unfurled
I told my love I'd take her to Athens and Rome
To consumate our love far from home
When we crossed the Georgia state line
with no airport in sight-no scheduled flight
Rome Georgia behind-we pulled off the road
over a well worn slot-and she dumped me
on the spot! a slap to the face burnin' hot
she dumped me on the spot!
Friday, November 25, 2011
"Dewlickers"
I have been livin' in this house for only a short while, couple of years maybe. It seems to me that my family is always having to cope with life's changes. Everyone lays their burdens at my side since they know that I cannot speak. They know I can't spout off criticism or my own irrational opinions.
Cassie, the youngest of four siblings, is about to enter the seventh grade. A wrapping of blue eyes and blond hair, she definitely takes after her father. She's just entering the collosal sea of adolescence and cannot totally define her place in our family, much less the world.
'Sampson, precious Sampson, which dress do you think I look best in?" She asks me as if she was central Mississippi's top debutante. "I guess I'll go with black, after all it really brings about my figure. Justin, the starting quarterback and my date, would prefer me in red. But I being a Shillingsworth, am persuaded by no man even if he is of blue-blooded nobility. Well, Sampson your right again definitely black. Most positively, absolutely black, amazingly, sexy black." With the gait only a Southern women would have she leaves the room and I alone in a cloud of curiosity.
"Touchdown, touchdown! Hot Damn Hotty Toddy Gosh Almighty Who the Hell Are We." Grant, the oldest, is scolding and embracing our only television set. Ya see, the University of Mississippi, better known as Ole Miss in these parts, has just scored a go ahead touchdown over rival Mississippi State with three seconds to go. He has just completed his degree in business management from Ole Miss!
Once dad died he solely took over at the lumber factory. Shillingsworth's lumber company has been an example of only a few constants in our town of Meridian, or in Mississippi for that matter. At first, wanting to slowly learn about the ins and outs of the business, Grant had to press his luck. He flipped the hand given to him and cashed it in like a Natchez river boat gambler in order to keep the company running. All in all I believe that this onslaught of sudden responsibility has made him better equipped at the bigger challenge of the responsibility of caring for a family.
"Lacybird, almost done? I cannot imagine celebrating a Rebel victory on an empty stomach!" "Has Roland prepared the table like I asked him?" Lacy, the oldest daughter, has an almost foreign spirit about her. Her coffee colored eyes and raven hair definitely come from the cajun side of the family. Our mother's name was Leone and her family owned much land just this 'side of New Orleans. She met dad at a fraternity social while at Ole Miss. Although, she is sixteen her responsibilities render her a dynamic of maturity beyond biological years. She plays mother to Grant's father. "Can't you think of anything else besides food and stuffin' yo innards G.S. "Like I said before, a Rebel victory always gives me hunger pangs." G.S. it always also gives 'ya gas and if it's a victory over State or Auburn you become sloppy drunk." "But, hey Lace, at least I'm happy all the way through it. Besides it's the way of a "Southern Gent" to live and indulge a little."
"Cassandra, Roland let's grub," shouts Grant as the two make their way down the stairs into the kitchen. " What kinda redneck talk is that for a college educated and sophisticated man?" states Lace as she sets the turkey at the center of the table. "True Southern vernacular and only a Mississippian can get away with it, even if he is of partial blue-blooded birth." To a man I laugh at this though as all members of the family bow to pray.
"O.K., who wants to pray grace? Roland, Cassie, Grant! Grant!" Lacy looks sharply at Grant. After a second of quick tension Roland speaks up. "I will, I'll do it! Dear fabber in heben we ask ya ta bless this turkey and bread that will fill our head-so we also thank you for the love as well as the grub. AMEN!" Amen, whispers the others. "Look at this sort of backward influence that yer havin' G.S." Grant is unable to defend himself due to a mouthful of dressing. Lacy smiles warmly at Roland and pats him on the back.
Roland, equally half Shillingsworth and half Leone, is seven and therefore the youngest. I personally see great things for Rolls, as he is effectionately called. With a gleeful smile and quick wit, for a seven year old, he will be successful in any career. He also just might be successful with the most sparklin' of the debutantes this fine community has to offa! With soft sandy hair and beagle dog hazel eyes he is the radiance of the family. But don't tell Cassie 'cause she thinks she is.
The growing shadow in the hallway and the clock chimes signal the five o' clock hour. I begin to slide unto the couch for a nap. But before I do this I must remind Lacey, in my own subtle way, to take her pain medicine. You see! Lace has bone marrow cancer and has yet to begin chemo. She has chronic pain in her knees, neck and arms. Through all this, she perseveres and has a steadfast faith in the Creator.
Roland is a paraplegic who had a severe bicycle accident just barely a year ago. Judging by his warmth and desire to learn about all "THERE IS TO KNOW" people soon take his paralysis for granted. If there is anyone who will walk again using their sheer willpower it will be Rolls. He sure has my support.
Cassie's handicap is not as obvious as Lacy's or Roland's. Her physical beauty is evident in her taunt, junior high school body. But because of Ma 'en Pa's death, due to a capsize on the family skiff off of the Chandalier's, she can no longer feel anything beautiful inside of her. By becoming self-absorbed she can rely on herself and not be at the mercy of outside heavens that could full and crush her dreams once more.
Grant, once a young man who had big dreams and a soft smile has to carry the weight of the family. He has to handle the blow of a reality that crushes his creativity and brings about a somberness to his life. Although, he knows better he finds his muse in the bottle. But in the end I know he is a better man and he will come out of it in all magnitude.
As for myself, well, some see me as the family mutt; who chews up bones and upholstry. Others may view me as the ladybug perched on the orchids by the window sill. Or maybe I'm just the families' guardian angel who hears my sisters and brothers as they speak to themselves and think that no one is listening. Like the morning dew that comes and soaks thirsty grass, I was put here to give nourishment to these people that I love so much. That's why I call them "DEWLICKERS!"
Cassie, the youngest of four siblings, is about to enter the seventh grade. A wrapping of blue eyes and blond hair, she definitely takes after her father. She's just entering the collosal sea of adolescence and cannot totally define her place in our family, much less the world.
'Sampson, precious Sampson, which dress do you think I look best in?" She asks me as if she was central Mississippi's top debutante. "I guess I'll go with black, after all it really brings about my figure. Justin, the starting quarterback and my date, would prefer me in red. But I being a Shillingsworth, am persuaded by no man even if he is of blue-blooded nobility. Well, Sampson your right again definitely black. Most positively, absolutely black, amazingly, sexy black." With the gait only a Southern women would have she leaves the room and I alone in a cloud of curiosity.
"Touchdown, touchdown! Hot Damn Hotty Toddy Gosh Almighty Who the Hell Are We." Grant, the oldest, is scolding and embracing our only television set. Ya see, the University of Mississippi, better known as Ole Miss in these parts, has just scored a go ahead touchdown over rival Mississippi State with three seconds to go. He has just completed his degree in business management from Ole Miss!
Once dad died he solely took over at the lumber factory. Shillingsworth's lumber company has been an example of only a few constants in our town of Meridian, or in Mississippi for that matter. At first, wanting to slowly learn about the ins and outs of the business, Grant had to press his luck. He flipped the hand given to him and cashed it in like a Natchez river boat gambler in order to keep the company running. All in all I believe that this onslaught of sudden responsibility has made him better equipped at the bigger challenge of the responsibility of caring for a family.
"Lacybird, almost done? I cannot imagine celebrating a Rebel victory on an empty stomach!" "Has Roland prepared the table like I asked him?" Lacy, the oldest daughter, has an almost foreign spirit about her. Her coffee colored eyes and raven hair definitely come from the cajun side of the family. Our mother's name was Leone and her family owned much land just this 'side of New Orleans. She met dad at a fraternity social while at Ole Miss. Although, she is sixteen her responsibilities render her a dynamic of maturity beyond biological years. She plays mother to Grant's father. "Can't you think of anything else besides food and stuffin' yo innards G.S. "Like I said before, a Rebel victory always gives me hunger pangs." G.S. it always also gives 'ya gas and if it's a victory over State or Auburn you become sloppy drunk." "But, hey Lace, at least I'm happy all the way through it. Besides it's the way of a "Southern Gent" to live and indulge a little."
"Cassandra, Roland let's grub," shouts Grant as the two make their way down the stairs into the kitchen. " What kinda redneck talk is that for a college educated and sophisticated man?" states Lace as she sets the turkey at the center of the table. "True Southern vernacular and only a Mississippian can get away with it, even if he is of partial blue-blooded birth." To a man I laugh at this though as all members of the family bow to pray.
"O.K., who wants to pray grace? Roland, Cassie, Grant! Grant!" Lacy looks sharply at Grant. After a second of quick tension Roland speaks up. "I will, I'll do it! Dear fabber in heben we ask ya ta bless this turkey and bread that will fill our head-so we also thank you for the love as well as the grub. AMEN!" Amen, whispers the others. "Look at this sort of backward influence that yer havin' G.S." Grant is unable to defend himself due to a mouthful of dressing. Lacy smiles warmly at Roland and pats him on the back.
Roland, equally half Shillingsworth and half Leone, is seven and therefore the youngest. I personally see great things for Rolls, as he is effectionately called. With a gleeful smile and quick wit, for a seven year old, he will be successful in any career. He also just might be successful with the most sparklin' of the debutantes this fine community has to offa! With soft sandy hair and beagle dog hazel eyes he is the radiance of the family. But don't tell Cassie 'cause she thinks she is.
The growing shadow in the hallway and the clock chimes signal the five o' clock hour. I begin to slide unto the couch for a nap. But before I do this I must remind Lacey, in my own subtle way, to take her pain medicine. You see! Lace has bone marrow cancer and has yet to begin chemo. She has chronic pain in her knees, neck and arms. Through all this, she perseveres and has a steadfast faith in the Creator.
Roland is a paraplegic who had a severe bicycle accident just barely a year ago. Judging by his warmth and desire to learn about all "THERE IS TO KNOW" people soon take his paralysis for granted. If there is anyone who will walk again using their sheer willpower it will be Rolls. He sure has my support.
Cassie's handicap is not as obvious as Lacy's or Roland's. Her physical beauty is evident in her taunt, junior high school body. But because of Ma 'en Pa's death, due to a capsize on the family skiff off of the Chandalier's, she can no longer feel anything beautiful inside of her. By becoming self-absorbed she can rely on herself and not be at the mercy of outside heavens that could full and crush her dreams once more.
Grant, once a young man who had big dreams and a soft smile has to carry the weight of the family. He has to handle the blow of a reality that crushes his creativity and brings about a somberness to his life. Although, he knows better he finds his muse in the bottle. But in the end I know he is a better man and he will come out of it in all magnitude.
As for myself, well, some see me as the family mutt; who chews up bones and upholstry. Others may view me as the ladybug perched on the orchids by the window sill. Or maybe I'm just the families' guardian angel who hears my sisters and brothers as they speak to themselves and think that no one is listening. Like the morning dew that comes and soaks thirsty grass, I was put here to give nourishment to these people that I love so much. That's why I call them "DEWLICKERS!"
Thursday, November 24, 2011
"So why this title to a blog?" An Intraspective Synopsis
As an English major at the University of Alabama I was fortunate to be exposed to a number of fine instructors who brought out my fascination with all types of literature. Being a student at a Southern university, believe me BAMA was that as it was torched by union troops during the war, it was a given that I would be exposed to Southern Literature. BAMA is a Southern icon with it's greek revival building architecture, beautiful but snooty sorority coeds and classic football teams. Of coarse there was Faulkner, O'Conner and Welty. With their stories came countless class hours of intrigue and joy. Then there were the movements that were studied as well. In the summer of 1998 I had the priviledge of studying under Dwight Eddins. Eddins had received his post graduate training at Vanderbilt University in Nashville Tennessee. Aside from being a gentleman and a scholar, Eddins's Vandy connection brought even more of a familiar attraction. Several close relatives of mine had attended this prestigious university. Being a hard working, but not as naturally gifted student as those family members, Vandy was never a real option for me. Also, with my father having a great salary but two boys in college together, it was understood that the public state university was the only true option for me. So making the best of this I took all the finest literature courses that Alabama was known for.
I will never forget our study that summer on a literary movement called Southern Agrarianism. Half asleep, probably from the road trip to Gulf Shores the night before, I was ready to assume my usual position at the back of the room, head down-eyes closed. Eddins begins to discuss Vanderbilt and his training there. He then discusses the literary agrarian movement and how he was specifically trained by some of the movement's fathers. Well, it's safe to say that I was awake with head up-eyes wide open.
I say all this to tell you why this movement is so important to the South. And why it is so important to Southern writers like myself. Briefly, it reminded the rest of America what writers from our region had to offer. It was a response to critics such as H.L. Mencken and those who thought that urbanism will and should change the face of literature. A face that looked itself in the mirror only to see liberalism, secularism, anti God-Country-Family. But these men took heart in the belief that each corner of America should be judged fairly, even if their part of America had not done so to those unfortunately maginalized. Simply put, the essence of this movement, contained an idea that life on the farm was still ideal. Dogwoods and Azaleas bloomin' in April on any Georgia country side was as magnificent as the canals of Venice. Fried chicken after church hymns was heaven on earth.
So with all this being said there was really only one choice in naming my pub "Modern Agrarian's Southern Writer's. Just as the Southern Agrarians, aka 12 Southernors, aka Vanderbilt Agrarians aka Fugitive Poets came before us; Faulkner, Welty and O'Conner came before them. Our work weaves together each on of us from past to present. As a "torch bearer" for agrarian style writers future tense, it is my honor to carry on the legacy of this movement any way I can. And make no mistake! No matter if your from Ohio, California or New Hampshire "agrarianism" has no bounderies. Her beauty is not regionalized, but is in the soul of those who love the simple things and praise their essence through writing, song, dance and theater. She kindly accepts all races and nationalities as well. So pull up a stool and tell us your favorite story. Because the ghost of the past are never too far away and have always loved to share a pint of their favorite spirit with new friends.
J.C.B
I will never forget our study that summer on a literary movement called Southern Agrarianism. Half asleep, probably from the road trip to Gulf Shores the night before, I was ready to assume my usual position at the back of the room, head down-eyes closed. Eddins begins to discuss Vanderbilt and his training there. He then discusses the literary agrarian movement and how he was specifically trained by some of the movement's fathers. Well, it's safe to say that I was awake with head up-eyes wide open.
I say all this to tell you why this movement is so important to the South. And why it is so important to Southern writers like myself. Briefly, it reminded the rest of America what writers from our region had to offer. It was a response to critics such as H.L. Mencken and those who thought that urbanism will and should change the face of literature. A face that looked itself in the mirror only to see liberalism, secularism, anti God-Country-Family. But these men took heart in the belief that each corner of America should be judged fairly, even if their part of America had not done so to those unfortunately maginalized. Simply put, the essence of this movement, contained an idea that life on the farm was still ideal. Dogwoods and Azaleas bloomin' in April on any Georgia country side was as magnificent as the canals of Venice. Fried chicken after church hymns was heaven on earth.
So with all this being said there was really only one choice in naming my pub "Modern Agrarian's Southern Writer's. Just as the Southern Agrarians, aka 12 Southernors, aka Vanderbilt Agrarians aka Fugitive Poets came before us; Faulkner, Welty and O'Conner came before them. Our work weaves together each on of us from past to present. As a "torch bearer" for agrarian style writers future tense, it is my honor to carry on the legacy of this movement any way I can. And make no mistake! No matter if your from Ohio, California or New Hampshire "agrarianism" has no bounderies. Her beauty is not regionalized, but is in the soul of those who love the simple things and praise their essence through writing, song, dance and theater. She kindly accepts all races and nationalities as well. So pull up a stool and tell us your favorite story. Because the ghost of the past are never too far away and have always loved to share a pint of their favorite spirit with new friends.
J.C.B
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
"Protege"
when this place lost it's warmth, I really can't say
It's been a week's time since I moved back in
when this place lost it's caress, could have been any day
It's been five dreary moons since I discovered in mammal form
My protege
when night began to overun the day, I really can't say
It's been six suns watching my loneliness
and attempt to take in for my simplest needs
play out in the life of my protege.
It's been seven winds since my old roomate left with his wife
And to myself once a spirited but empty house
It's been one snap that a peanut butter and a copper/wooden trap
caused the death of my protege a young field mouse.
It's been a week's time since I moved back in
when this place lost it's caress, could have been any day
It's been five dreary moons since I discovered in mammal form
My protege
when night began to overun the day, I really can't say
It's been six suns watching my loneliness
and attempt to take in for my simplest needs
play out in the life of my protege.
It's been seven winds since my old roomate left with his wife
And to myself once a spirited but empty house
It's been one snap that a peanut butter and a copper/wooden trap
caused the death of my protege a young field mouse.
"Purely Breathable"
I levitated to the top
of the noontide sky at the age of eight
as a child I bathed my filth
I caressed you floating above
it all as pillowed dream
as real it did seem
oh blissful you are as gift
Your gentle precious heart burns
through memories so sick and feelings enslaving
to drive me toward the vision
of what a boy should be
I'm lifted high on the palm of your virginity
I'm lifted high on my affection for thee
Don't wake me
Don't wake me
of the noontide sky at the age of eight
as a child I bathed my filth
I caressed you floating above
it all as pillowed dream
as real it did seem
oh blissful you are as gift
Your gentle precious heart burns
through memories so sick and feelings enslaving
to drive me toward the vision
of what a boy should be
I'm lifted high on the palm of your virginity
I'm lifted high on my affection for thee
Don't wake me
Don't wake me
"Wayne Hooks"
On clear night in Gadsden town
a ring of hoodlums were drivin' round
They smashed the mailbox of one Mr. Hooks
He chased the neophytes down the side of Country Club
mountain as if they were crooks
At the red light they stopped Wayne took out a bat
smashin' their car trunk flat
Green flashed the new light as they sped outta sight
There once was a man named Wayne
some thought was insane
Who sped down country club mountain motor bike way
after some crooks and introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
He introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
a ring of hoodlums were drivin' round
They smashed the mailbox of one Mr. Hooks
He chased the neophytes down the side of Country Club
mountain as if they were crooks
At the red light they stopped Wayne took out a bat
smashin' their car trunk flat
Green flashed the new light as they sped outta sight
There once was a man named Wayne
some thought was insane
Who sped down country club mountain motor bike way
after some crooks and introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
He introduced himself as Mr. Hooks
"Blossom Extravaganza"
March winds blow the pale sun glows
The meadow grows into a splendid circus
Dancing with glee
The lovely pines summon the joys of life to awaken
From their dreary winter slumber
March winds blow a new start for you and me
God's nature from winter's asylum, breaks free
to hear the chirps of the blue bird
and the buzz of the honeybee
March winds blow cold and warm
Unstable air and strong winds are the norm
neighboring woods open shop
with a buzz a crackle and a pop
sun caresses me with a hug
a feeling upon my skin so snug
March winds blow as the children play
a bundle of laughter hope and joy
A parent's smile for each girl and boy
God's beautiful creation is rewarded
By Mother Nature's Praise
The meadow grows into a splendid circus
Dancing with glee
The lovely pines summon the joys of life to awaken
From their dreary winter slumber
March winds blow a new start for you and me
God's nature from winter's asylum, breaks free
to hear the chirps of the blue bird
and the buzz of the honeybee
March winds blow cold and warm
Unstable air and strong winds are the norm
neighboring woods open shop
with a buzz a crackle and a pop
sun caresses me with a hug
a feeling upon my skin so snug
March winds blow as the children play
a bundle of laughter hope and joy
A parent's smile for each girl and boy
God's beautiful creation is rewarded
By Mother Nature's Praise
"Lighting Bugs"
TO CUSP SUMMER'S PIECE OF HEAVEN
IN ONE'S HANDS
IS GLORIOUS A BEAUTIFUL FEELING
ACROSS THE FLOWER LAND
A GLOW OF POWER AND DIGNITY
BUT OF WARMTH AND PEACE
WHAT A GRACEFUL MASTER OF
ART AND BEAUTY TO SAY THE LEAST
TO COME TO GRIPS WITH SUCH A
WONDERFUL CREATURE
BRINGS LIFE TO AN INEXPERIENCED SOUL
AS DUSK TURNS TO DARK
THE BREEZE BLOWS COOL
BUT THE WARMTH OF THE LIGHTING BUG
IS HERE TO RULE
SO LIGHT MY WAY IN SUCH A DARK WORLD
BRING ME HOPE IN THE YEARS TO COME
BRING ME HOPE IN A COOL WORLD
WITH SUMMERS TO COME
IN ONE'S HANDS
IS GLORIOUS A BEAUTIFUL FEELING
ACROSS THE FLOWER LAND
A GLOW OF POWER AND DIGNITY
BUT OF WARMTH AND PEACE
WHAT A GRACEFUL MASTER OF
ART AND BEAUTY TO SAY THE LEAST
TO COME TO GRIPS WITH SUCH A
WONDERFUL CREATURE
BRINGS LIFE TO AN INEXPERIENCED SOUL
AS DUSK TURNS TO DARK
THE BREEZE BLOWS COOL
BUT THE WARMTH OF THE LIGHTING BUG
IS HERE TO RULE
SO LIGHT MY WAY IN SUCH A DARK WORLD
BRING ME HOPE IN THE YEARS TO COME
BRING ME HOPE IN A COOL WORLD
WITH SUMMERS TO COME
"The Sandbar" a swim into manhood
"The Gulf looks sorta disgusted. Whadya you think Jared?" "I don't know dad?'' "Maybe the rip current is not stronga 'nough to make for a perilous swim." "At least I hope it isn't." "Son, boy, when I was your age I swam to the sandbar with pops Newman". "He showed me that it was the thing to do if I wanted to prove my manhood!" "But, yer dad grew up in South Carolina." "Yep, he knew the shoals and currents like the back of his hand." "Jared, good try son but you're not gettin out of this so easy 'cause I see lotta you in him. Besides, he swam in the Atlantic."
"We are in the Gulf. The Atlantic has bigger waves and sometimes stronger currents. If he can do the Atlantic then you can do the Gulf!" "Yeah, but the Gulf is still bigga 'nough fer me and my geography teacher told me it's even part of the Atlantic." "O.K. dad, I will give it a try, but I will grab onto your back if I feel tired or if the summer sea lice sting me." "Deal, Jared, you have a deal. But head up at all times with eyes front and center like a marine at Normandy. Try to be tough. You know how all the young girls love tough boys. Some are on the beach probably admiring you right now." "Yeah, but mom doesn't like the idea." "Sport, she is a mature women not impressed with the wiles of adolescence. Itsa young girls you are trying to impress. Remember, just like my first trip was; thisa be your right of passage into manhood."
"Dad, dad I can't stand up anymore, iba, ima gonna guess I gotta use ma arms more." "Jared, just imagine that your are in a pool, like at the Sidmores last July 4th. That's right a big salty pool." Wuaa, was that underneath us?" "Well, son I did not see it. Wad did it look like?" "It, um, looked like the homeplate back at Kemp field." "Did it have a tail streaming out of the back?" "Yeah, it's body was black anda so was the tail." "Sport, that's called a stingray." "Then it musta um...a, sting right dad!" "Only, if you try to grab it. We're alright! We are in ten feet of water and it is at the bottom on the sand."
"Now, Jared, let's stop and feel the bottom with our feet." "But, the thingy, I mean the stingray is down there." "Ah, sport, it's a gonner. By the way I'll be here, right here next to you." "Wha, why is the water getting colder, the sand feels soft and squishy between my toes. Whew! Hey, I did it, I did it. I even stayed under for five seconds." "Felt, good didn't it Sport?" "Ya.....um but I can't touch anymore and I'm getting tired."
"Justa few more feet sport and we will be there, Ah, here it is, this is it, the sandbar. Son, this is that green line you can always see. You can see it from 98 that runs from Destin to Panama City." "But, I can't stand up and I don't see what all the commotion is." "Now, sport, here sit on my shoulders. How is that?" "Wow, I can see to the horizon. Cyan blue as if the sky gifted the water with a multitude of melted blueberries. Where does the water stop? Hey, dad turn towed the beach! Boy, the people look like ants. Like the ones in Miss Jensen's glass container in school. I bet we look the same to them. I bet they can't even see us."
"Hey pa, what's that greenish brown triangle swimming 'tween us and the first sandbar? Dad, what's wrong? Dontcha know what that is? You always point out all the fish. Just like you'd seen the chart in Miss Jensen's room. So tell me, what kind of fish would have a tail like that? Dad, why are you so quiet? Yer, being weird and itsa starting to annoy me!" "Whatdya, whatdya ask me son? I don't think I saw the fin that you were talk'n 'bout." "Ya know dad, ya know dad ' member ya named all of them that day you brought me lunch at Miss Jensen's class. What type of fish has a greenish brown fin?" "Son, I dunno! When we get back to the beach cottage, I'll look it up in Rutherford's Saltwater Almanac on the breakfast table." "I bet Ruthafud doesn't have the pictures that Miss Jensen's poster does."
"For now, son let's just tread water here on the sandbar." "But dad, Ima....t...tired and I want to go back to the beach and I'm startin' to ich around my arms and neck." Yes, sport , sea lice are the smallest yet largest annoyance from Navarre to Sarasota." "But, I'm tired and I want to go back to the beach!" Ah, come on sport Pops Newman would be proud of you if he could see ya treadin' water this long." "But, my side hurts and I want to be were I can stand again! Cum...on dad!" "Dammit, son it's not that hard. just a few minutes longer! I can't I can't!" "Look, Jared I'm sorry! I know yer tired. Just five more ticks 'round the clock. Grab ma hand if you get tired!"
"Well, five ticks have passed sport. Let's go!" "Hey, dad we've gotten closer to tha beach and the people look bigger. Bigger, just like the cock roaches in Mrs. Jensen's class. Ouch, something keeps stinging my leg. Ahh...Owww! my shoulder, it all hurts. What's it dad? What is stinging?" "It's the tentacles of the jelleys that have broken off of their bodies. Keep swimmin' we will be out of it in a second." "Hey, dad there is that rectangle again, it's itsa behind us now."
"Junior, race ya to tha beach. First one in get's the most ice cream tonight! Last one eats the cockroaches in Miss Jensen's class." "But, I can't. I'm Ima tired." "Dammit Junior, dontcha want ice cream? Now swim son, swim faster!" "Hey, dad I can stand up again." I told ya boy you can do anything ya set yer mind to. You did well out there and Ima proud of ya. Although, we tied you still get the ice cream." "Does that mean ya still gotta eat the cockroaches from Miss Jensen's class?" "We'll sport if she still has...um...September I'll take a chance. Alright, son last one to tha beach house is an ole skinny skeleton." "Ya, mean like the one in Miss Jensen's class!" "That's right son." "Hey, Mr. Newman ya' dropped your father's family pendant. Here I scooped it up right by waters edge. It must've made it's way offa your neck chain." "Thanks, Davis. If it wasn't for eagle eyed life guards like you I would make a pauper rich with all the important things Iva lost on this beach. I have been waitin' 3 summers to give this to Jared. Looks like he finally earned it. Davis, want to join me and sport for an ice cream cool down." "Sure!" "last one to the house is a sumabitch." "That's right Mr. Newman, just as a father who doesn't tell his son he just saw a tiger shark is one as well." "We'll Davis ya got me there." "Yessir, yours was the third sightin' this week. Yessir, the third sighting this week. I hope you have coconut and cherries. Im starvin'!"
"We are in the Gulf. The Atlantic has bigger waves and sometimes stronger currents. If he can do the Atlantic then you can do the Gulf!" "Yeah, but the Gulf is still bigga 'nough fer me and my geography teacher told me it's even part of the Atlantic." "O.K. dad, I will give it a try, but I will grab onto your back if I feel tired or if the summer sea lice sting me." "Deal, Jared, you have a deal. But head up at all times with eyes front and center like a marine at Normandy. Try to be tough. You know how all the young girls love tough boys. Some are on the beach probably admiring you right now." "Yeah, but mom doesn't like the idea." "Sport, she is a mature women not impressed with the wiles of adolescence. Itsa young girls you are trying to impress. Remember, just like my first trip was; thisa be your right of passage into manhood."
"Dad, dad I can't stand up anymore, iba, ima gonna guess I gotta use ma arms more." "Jared, just imagine that your are in a pool, like at the Sidmores last July 4th. That's right a big salty pool." Wuaa, was that underneath us?" "Well, son I did not see it. Wad did it look like?" "It, um, looked like the homeplate back at Kemp field." "Did it have a tail streaming out of the back?" "Yeah, it's body was black anda so was the tail." "Sport, that's called a stingray." "Then it musta um...a, sting right dad!" "Only, if you try to grab it. We're alright! We are in ten feet of water and it is at the bottom on the sand."
"Now, Jared, let's stop and feel the bottom with our feet." "But, the thingy, I mean the stingray is down there." "Ah, sport, it's a gonner. By the way I'll be here, right here next to you." "Wha, why is the water getting colder, the sand feels soft and squishy between my toes. Whew! Hey, I did it, I did it. I even stayed under for five seconds." "Felt, good didn't it Sport?" "Ya.....um but I can't touch anymore and I'm getting tired."
"Justa few more feet sport and we will be there, Ah, here it is, this is it, the sandbar. Son, this is that green line you can always see. You can see it from 98 that runs from Destin to Panama City." "But, I can't stand up and I don't see what all the commotion is." "Now, sport, here sit on my shoulders. How is that?" "Wow, I can see to the horizon. Cyan blue as if the sky gifted the water with a multitude of melted blueberries. Where does the water stop? Hey, dad turn towed the beach! Boy, the people look like ants. Like the ones in Miss Jensen's glass container in school. I bet we look the same to them. I bet they can't even see us."
"Hey pa, what's that greenish brown triangle swimming 'tween us and the first sandbar? Dad, what's wrong? Dontcha know what that is? You always point out all the fish. Just like you'd seen the chart in Miss Jensen's room. So tell me, what kind of fish would have a tail like that? Dad, why are you so quiet? Yer, being weird and itsa starting to annoy me!" "Whatdya, whatdya ask me son? I don't think I saw the fin that you were talk'n 'bout." "Ya know dad, ya know dad ' member ya named all of them that day you brought me lunch at Miss Jensen's class. What type of fish has a greenish brown fin?" "Son, I dunno! When we get back to the beach cottage, I'll look it up in Rutherford's Saltwater Almanac on the breakfast table." "I bet Ruthafud doesn't have the pictures that Miss Jensen's poster does."
"For now, son let's just tread water here on the sandbar." "But dad, Ima....t...tired and I want to go back to the beach and I'm startin' to ich around my arms and neck." Yes, sport , sea lice are the smallest yet largest annoyance from Navarre to Sarasota." "But, I'm tired and I want to go back to the beach!" Ah, come on sport Pops Newman would be proud of you if he could see ya treadin' water this long." "But, my side hurts and I want to be were I can stand again! Cum...on dad!" "Dammit, son it's not that hard. just a few minutes longer! I can't I can't!" "Look, Jared I'm sorry! I know yer tired. Just five more ticks 'round the clock. Grab ma hand if you get tired!"
"Well, five ticks have passed sport. Let's go!" "Hey, dad we've gotten closer to tha beach and the people look bigger. Bigger, just like the cock roaches in Mrs. Jensen's class. Ouch, something keeps stinging my leg. Ahh...Owww! my shoulder, it all hurts. What's it dad? What is stinging?" "It's the tentacles of the jelleys that have broken off of their bodies. Keep swimmin' we will be out of it in a second." "Hey, dad there is that rectangle again, it's itsa behind us now."
"Junior, race ya to tha beach. First one in get's the most ice cream tonight! Last one eats the cockroaches in Miss Jensen's class." "But, I can't. I'm Ima tired." "Dammit Junior, dontcha want ice cream? Now swim son, swim faster!" "Hey, dad I can stand up again." I told ya boy you can do anything ya set yer mind to. You did well out there and Ima proud of ya. Although, we tied you still get the ice cream." "Does that mean ya still gotta eat the cockroaches from Miss Jensen's class?" "We'll sport if she still has...um...September I'll take a chance. Alright, son last one to tha beach house is an ole skinny skeleton." "Ya, mean like the one in Miss Jensen's class!" "That's right son." "Hey, Mr. Newman ya' dropped your father's family pendant. Here I scooped it up right by waters edge. It must've made it's way offa your neck chain." "Thanks, Davis. If it wasn't for eagle eyed life guards like you I would make a pauper rich with all the important things Iva lost on this beach. I have been waitin' 3 summers to give this to Jared. Looks like he finally earned it. Davis, want to join me and sport for an ice cream cool down." "Sure!" "last one to the house is a sumabitch." "That's right Mr. Newman, just as a father who doesn't tell his son he just saw a tiger shark is one as well." "We'll Davis ya got me there." "Yessir, yours was the third sightin' this week. Yessir, the third sighting this week. I hope you have coconut and cherries. Im starvin'!"
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