Freddy, rake those leafs...Again

Everyone has that one special friend. You know, the one you grew up with. He (she) knows all of your dirt and still is your friend. Mine is Freddy. We grew up on the south side of Atlanta in the 1950-60s. We were raised in GI tract housing and all wore the same brand of blue jeans and shirts. We all had flat tops or crew cuts. There were no other kind of haircut for boys.

Saturdays were real special. We would look forward all week to Saturday. At the age of 12 or so we spent our time walking Perkerson road picking up whiskey bottles and filling them with colored water like the fancy people kept in their parlors. The only difference was ours had to stay in the creek, no way we could take them home. I am surprised our parents did not ground us for "collecting."

We had big plans for a Saturday in mid-November 1960-something. Freddy, had a problem...Leafs. He had a half-acre backyard with maple trees and Fall had come and gone. If you have never raked maple leafs let me tell you the leaf blower was the greatest invention of the 20th century. They are little, crunchy and stick to the rake. After you get them raked you had to dispose of them. Now remember this is before plastic garbage bags and no respecting family in our neighborhood could afford or would afford paper leaf bags for disposal when God had given us fire.

The problem was leafs when wet don't burn. After waiting for Freddy to call all morning I walked to Freddy's house. I got there after he had finished raking (good timing on my part) and he had them set to burn. Freddy was not about to just burn them on the ground since his dad had recently changed out the hot water heater and had the old outside shell on concrete blocks in the backyard . He loaded the leafs in the shell and threw in a match or two. No luck.

The leaves were just too wet. A little gasoline was needed. Everyone had some around in an old jug for the lawn mower. Freddy gave a splash or two to the top of the leaves and reached for his matches. He was out. I sat down beside the container as Freddy went in the house to get more matches. He was gone several minutes. Saturday was a wasting.

I guess since his parents didn't smoke they was a shortage of matches. Come to think of it, his dad did smoke cigars, but he must have used a lighter. No kid was ever trusted with a lighter...No not a butane lighter, one that used real lighter fluid. Know one really knows what is in lighter fluid, but from later life experiences I would say the employees at the lighter fluid factory must be the happiest group of employees in the world.

We Freddy got back, he threw in a match...Nothing happened. The gasoline had either evaporated or dripped down to the bottom. No problem. See the hot water heater had a faucet at the bottom and all we had to do was open it and light the fire...Real cool huh!

BOOM!

And up went the leaves. Shot out of a hot water heater cannon. No only did it shoot the leaves fifty feet in the air, it broke them into very small pieces and rained them down over most of the backyard and the neighbors too.

Freddy's great loss was the hair on his arm. Our great loss was most the the rest of that Saturday spent re-raking the backyard(s).

Such is life...Friends make it so much better!

My Buddy Burt

Burt called me today. He and I might not talk for six months but when we do it is as if we had talked yesterday. We are more like brothers than friends. When he calls you never know what to expect. "I want to switch my phones to a satellite." Just your common everyday problem.

It seems that Burt and his neighbors in the Bahamas have been using a local provider out of Marsh Harbor for the last few years and that provider is going under. Now Burt and 60 odd homes will be without Internet, but more importantly, without VoIP telephones. So Burt wants to go to a bird. Sounds easy.

I pointed out that a sat is 22,500 miles in space and it takes 400 ms to go up and down each time you talk. It makes me think I am back in the 1950's saying, "Over." After we discussed the short comings of a sat solution and the cost of replacing a land solution the sat looked pretty good.

The icing came from Burt. He said the magic words..."we will go fishing while we are out there." I quickly recruited two of my regular fishing buddies who just happen to be network / sat guys. We looked at our calendars and decided November was perfect.

I will have dreams tonight of fresh, I mean REAL fresh Spiney Lobster, Dolphin, Grouper, and Jumbo Shrimp. Add some Conch Chowder and Conch fridders, Ahh Burt, you made my day...

Looking forward to October

September 1, 2006



OK, I am tired of Summer. Well not really, I just want it to be Spring again. We have a lot on the plate for this year and next year looks even better. My dad (Papa) and brother-in-law (BIL) (Tommy) went fly fishing on the Snake River in Wyoming last month.

At 83 Papa went down the Snake in a raft. Not just any part of the river but on the white water. He asked the guides if it was OK to get in the river and they said yes never guessing this old guy would dive in and then stay in the water for a few miles as they went down the river. What a blessing to be 83 and in good health. All he said was it was cold...With a big smile!

Papa, Tommy(BIL), Ed (BIL), John Mitchell, and Barry Holderread and I are going to Apalachacola, FL in October to fish off shore for Snapper and Grouper and near shore for Trout and Reds. I am ready to go tomorrow. So are most of the guys. Do you like my little 35" Red...Yes we had to throw it back....

Papa has made plans to take the whole family to Jackson Hole, WY next February. He is planning snowmobiling trips to Old Faithful in Yellowstone and to Granite Hot Springs. I plan to try my hand at ice fishing. I have second cousins all over the "Hole" and they are the ones I am going to ask for assistance. I will keep you posted.

I am planning a trip to Mexico in the Spring and Alaska in the Summer....2007 will be a good year!

We Lost Billy Ray

July 24, 2006
Acworth, GA

Well Billy Ray is gone. He died a few weeks ago in his bathroom. He was a great lover of music, so it was apporprate for him to do an Elvis on us. How do you tell the story of Billy Ray with out a smile on your face and a tear in your eye. His life was full of both. No, a lot of both.

I first met Billy Ray in 1969. I had heard of him years before (1964) when Laura and I went steady in the ninth grade. She always explained to me how important family was to her and how her "people" were from Western North Carolina, around Ashville. She had two cousins on her mother's side, Sonny and Billy Ray. Sonny is alive and well. Well retired and doing OK. Billy Ray is and was another story.

Billy Ray was born in 1937 to Vera and Egar Ray. At the start of WWII, Egar was working at the shipyards in Norfork, VA. He came home one day from work not feeling well and went an lay down. A short while later he died of a massive heart attack. Vera lost the love of her life and Billy Ray lost his father at the age of three. He never had another one. Vera Ellen Sophronia Carter Ray was both mother and father to Billy Ray. They were a team.

Vera raised Billy Ray the best she could. He was always a free spirit - long before the world knew what a free spirit was. He never really grew up. He was the closest thing on earth to Peter Pan and I will miss him. So long Billy Ray...May Heaverly Father guide you as your eternal father and reunite you with your Earthly father and mother.

WHERE IS AMERICA

Where is America? Right where it has always been. Waiting to help those that can't help themselves and those that have done all they can and still need more help. We have plenty of resources to help.

September 11,2001 was one of those days we all remember and want to forget. The 1961 World Series, the first US manned space launch (Alan Shepard), when Kennedy (November 22, 1963)was shot, the first Space Shuttle explosion. There are many more, but those three stick out in my mental history. Today is September 11, 2005. We have another one of those events when real people suffer while others survive.

As a kid I watched hurricanes come and go. I saw the miracle of pictures from space and how they saved hundreds and thousands of lives. As a young man, I remember Camile and the stupid people that did not listen and lost their lives. I watched the same thing with Katrina, but there is a BIG difference - experience and warning. Many people think America has changed.

America was founded on independence. All through our history we have reveled in our ability to sustain ourselves while helping others. We have helped people wanting to be free from the halls of Montezuma to the shores of Tripoli. Europe owes us twice, no three times when you include the Marshall Plan. Asia owes us more than once. South and Central America are basket cases and more than likely always will be. Now we are getting help from the basket cases.

The press and politicans are looking to fix blame. Many attack our President. Many attack FEMA, the mayor of New Orleans, and the governor of LA. Who is really to blame? Who cares?

Not the average guy on the street. Three months from now this will only be alive in his/her mind as political slogans by desperate politicians trying to gain or stay in office or weak writers seeking to not report but proclaim guilt from their points of view. The 'little” guy will still be just as much at risk. Why? Because he/she should be. That is the American way. Remember independance?

Anyone with any common sense has a television and/or a radio(If you don't go to the bottom of this blog and sign out.) You had to be aware that a major hurricane was heading towards the Gulf coast even if only by your neighbors packing up and leaving. You had to have heard there was a cat 4-5 storm approaching. You had to have seen or heard of Betsy, Camile, Andrew, Hugo, etc. You may have heard the President had declared LA and MS disaster areas BEFORE the storm hit.

You surely heard the mayor of New Orleans tell everyone they should leave the city on Saturday. When you live in New Orleans you know there are few ways out of the city to higher ground. You know the levy system in not up to a cat 3+ storm. You had to have heard the mayor early Sunday morning say that the evacuation was now mandatory.

You must have heard the mayor say the Super Dome was not a shelter, but only a place of last resort. This is where the single mother of four who can not walk to safety could take her family. It was not a place for honeymooning tourist to get the FEEL of a hurricane. It was not the place for 18-40 year old healty men to take refuge. It is not for the those whos homes will look the same after the hurricane as they did before, filthy and cluttered from their own lazyness.

You were told by the mayor to bring enough food and water for three days with you to the the Super Dome. You had to have seen the LA National Guard at the doors to the Super Dome checking for weapons. There were 75 National Guards for 25,000 people. Does that seem safe to you?

If you didn't see or hear this, you SHOULD be called a casualty. A self-inflicted casualty. Point a finger at yourself and take responsibility.

FEMA and many others have told you for years to have a 72-hour kit for each member of your family with enough food and water for... guess...thats right - 72 hours! Where are yours?

Why is it governments responsibility to protect those stupid enough to put themselves and their families in harms way. Watch the tapes of those screaming the loudest. It is the ones who did the least to protect themselves and others and then used their predicament to excuse looting and anarchy. Why do you loot mink coats in five feet of water in New Orleans in the Summer?

My son and I were down there three days after the storm. We took everything we needed to survive and much more to help others. We plan to go back until no more help is needed. When are you going?

Uncle Mac

P.S. - We can use our fishing boats to take the looters to GITMO!

SPOIL THE GAL and SPARE THE ROD

AUGUST 1960
PANAMA CITY FLORIDA

I grew up in a great American Southern neighborhood. Us baby-boomer kids had several sets of parents. Our neighbors were like family. All of us baby-boomer kids grew up together. Our fathers fought in WWII or Korea or both. Our neighborhood was blue collar. All of my neighbors loved to fish. My father was the ring-leader. He was (is) the old non-blue collar worker and the only former officer in the group, but you would not know it.

My mother on the other hand was made for this neighborhood. My Dad stole her away from her western roots and brought her to the home of humidity. She was born in Jackson Hole, WY and grew up eating Elk. She thought everyone did. Her idea of trout fishing had more to do with clubs and burlap bags then fishing rods. On a tall day she stands or I should say stood five feet flat. Today at 80 she has a good day of 4'9". One thing that has never change in my mothers life is her spunk.

My Dad was pickup up by my mother during the war. What I mean by picked up is literal. He was hitch-hiking with a large group of men and my mother drove a truck. Since he was the only office, he rode up front and the rest was put in the back. To this day, my mother has never picked up another hitch-hiker.

Back to the fishing trip. The Cardens, Wrights, Tidwells and the Williams along with our 90-year-old maid(second mother) Zuma headed for Panama City Florida. We were living high at the Bikini motel. George Carden and I loved to fish too and we found a pond right behind our room. It was full of two-inch bream and we had just the hook to catch him...over and over again.

Mom, Dad and the rest of the adults minus Zuma headed for the pier at Panama City. They had dreams of ice chest ( the old Coleman metal ones) full of crocker, whiting, sheephead, and whatever else would bite and was deamed edible by the locals. They had all of the right city-folk fishing tackle. This did include my dad's favorite rod and reel. Remember he had grown up fishing Florida waters and he did have the right equipment and knew how to catch the fish. It was hot...Damn hot!

The rest of the folks were equipped with whatever could pass as saltwater tackle from the local Atlanta Sears & Roebucks. No, not the big on Ponce, but the one in West End. I loved to go down the escalator to sporting goods and tools but that is another story.

My Dad loved my mother so much, he let her use his pride and joy rod and reel. Well maybe the truth he had no choice...She is tuff! Mom loves to fish too. I mean she really loves to fish... She really loves to succeed. For anyone who has ever fished from a pier, you know the routine. Haul every thing from the car to the very end of the pier and then decide where you really want to fish. Next you move everything there. My parents were no different.

In August the Gulf coast is hot, damn hot! Being on the water magnifies the heat and the humidity. Even when you are raised in it, you are not really ready for it. Mom was not raised here but she made the first day with no problems. As everyone else went back to the hotel, Mom decided to stay a little longer. The next morning Mom was still fishing so Dad went back to the pier early to be with her. This was Saturday morning. All day us kids played in the pond out back or at the beach with our older sisters and neighborhood friends. The parents fished. Saturday night they all came back from the pier, but not Mom.

Sunday morning Dad went down to the pier early again for a little more fishing and us kids went back to the beach. We had to check out of the hotel by noon and head back to Atlanta. Dad tells the story of Mom's last few minutes of fishing as follows.

"Well she had been there since Friday and had not caught a single fish. She was mad as hell and crying. Mostly from pure exhustion and some discuss with herself. She decided the rod and reel were to blame and knew one of them had to go. Since she knew the reels were expensive, over the side went the rod...my favorite rod! I just didn't have the heart to tell her that was my favorite rod."

I don't think he has ever told her...I love my Mom!

It was a long hot trip back. In those days we did not have car air conditioners or four-lane highways. All we had was way too many people trying to go back to Atlanta on narrow two-lane roads. I was glad to be home and sleep in my own bed. This is the last time I can remember my Mom going to the beach fishing...LOL

Dad, I will buy you a new favorite rod. Thank you for sharing this story we me.

P. S. - I think Zuma had the best time sleeping in an air conditioned room for three days.

FOUR MORE WEEKS OF DAYLIGHT SAVINGS TIME?

AUGUST 16, 2005
ACWORTH, GEORGIA

The President signed a new energy bill a few days ago. In it was a provision for four more weeks a year of Daylight Savings Time (DST). Well for the life of me I am trying to figure how I am going to save energy, i.e. money with four more weeks of DST. I still get up before daylight. I still go to bed after nightfall. I still get hungry at the same time. Fishing is still my greatest love (besides my family). Fish live by the tides not the clock. I live by the tides because the fish do. We don't even have the communist around to blame for this kind of stuff anymore.

I guess with gas over $3 a gallon in places anything that can help is OK. How about the poor commercial fishermen. These guys were living on the edge before the gas went out of site. Shrimper have it the worst I guess. They have the greatest distance to travel and must run their engines to pull their nets. Will the ocean get to keep her shrimp or will giant shrimp farms begin to cover the open coast? I hope not. Is there anyone alive that believes farm-raised shrimp tastes like open catch shrimp? Is so, you have never had fresh shrimp from the Gulf or Atlantic coast.

We now have farm-raised trout, shrimp, salmon, and talapia. Oh yea, I forgot about conch, lobster, and eel. I want to visit the first Blue Marlin farm...

God gave us this great pleasure - fishing. He took his first disciples and made them fishers of men. The Bible has many references to water, fishing, boats, and yes fish. Why do we enjoy fishing so much? It takes us back to our roots. It ties us to our past, our childhood, and our ancestors. Most of us feel at home on the water. Most of us lie and say we don't care if we catch anything or not, just being on the water is fun. No, we want to catch fish. We don't want to net them.

We don't want to go to Wal-Mart (or as Uncle John calls it "Wally-World") and buy our "fresh fish." Fresh from what? These guys in Bentonville are real smart...Maybe they are the ones behind the DST. Yes, I am sure now...They are the ones. Last year they built a Wally-World Super Store a few miles from the house on land that had deer on it. Now it is a great big ugly 24-hour mega store at doesn't care about DST. When you go to the mall during DST it closes an hour earlier than your body tells you it should. Sure you can go an hour earlier, but who goes to the mall early? Those guys in Bentonville figured that out. See I told you they were smart.

I just figured out how to make money off the new energy bill too! Yes I am sure I can. I am an old computer nerd. OK it is out of the closet for me. All of the neonerds as we old timers call them have relied on Microsoft to do the thinking for them. Now with the dilemma of four more weeks of DST they will rely on MS to solve this for them too. Have you ever heard of MS patching something and not causing another hole for hackers?

LOL (That is Laugh-Out-Loud for you old timers)

Us old guys can fix it right the first time. We will not charge you but once. We will just sit down and change your clock/calendar. It is as simple as that. Now that we have this extra revenue we will be able to afford more fishing. Yes, that's it...More fishing!

We can pay our captains and guides more money for gas. We will rent more places to stay and rescue the tourist industry. We will buy more seafood while at the coast and rescue the shrimpers. We will create more jobs ( I sound like a George Bush republican don't I) and they also will contribute to this new economy. Whoa, all of this from a few extra weeks of DST!

Maybe when we go back to standard time we will get this re-occurring revenue stream all of the experts tell us about... I wonder if we have enough left to put lights on the golf course...

Uncle Mac

FIFTY-FIVE AND STILL ALIVE

August 11, 2005

I awoke to a beautiful morning. Finally the sun was shining and all of the rain has passed. Marley came into our bedroom and gave me a card with a picture on the Florida State Line Welcome sign on the front. Inside the tag line was "Welcome to God's waiting room!"

I enjoyed the personal notes and the smile on my granddaughters face. She and I decided TODAY was the day to go trout fishing. We packed the rod and reel and set with the rest of the family on a great fishing adventure. We drove over to Spruce Pine looking for a trout farm. After 25 miles or so of only finding closed or non-existent trout farms we settled on a gem mine near Little Switzerland, NC.

Marley and Mac sat next to me on the flume. We had two $10 buckets, Mac with one and Mickelle with the other. Mac, Marley and I shared a bucket. Many years ago we lived in NE Georgia in the town of Dillard. It is near Franklin, NC and ruby mines. Mac loved to go mining as a child. It was not the same. The term "seeded" takes on new meaning with these modern mines. Hey, the tourist and kids love it!

After our mining trip we decided to move along the South Toe river towards Mt. Mitchell. We stopped in at Tony's Dinner along the way. It was like stepping back in to the 1960's. The food was great and the service was personal and charming like only a business owner can offer. We learned all about the area and the new golf course, last years damage to the Blue Ridge Parkway done by hurricanes and how their "leaf season" was destroyed. Most businesses in the southern Blue Ridge mountains depend on leaf season.

The best news we learned was the location of a trout farm. It was just down the hill. Well just down the hill means something different to Tony than to use citified folks. After three miles in 2nd gear because my brakes we smelling the terrain flattened off a little along Buck Creek and we found Buck Creek Trout Farm. It was a small pond right on the bank of Buck Creek.

Mr. Meyer, the owner greeted us. Mac got the rods ready while Marley and I explored the pond. We settled in a swing near the covered picnic tables and watched for fish and water movement. We finally settled on the stream entrance to the pond. It was a large PVC pipe up about two feet above the pond surface. The water came in with good force and aerated the water in the pond.

We started off with #6 hooks and split shot on 6lb test. Red wigglers were our bait and Marley was happy to let me put them on the hook. She was given perfect instructions on how to hold the rod and line and special instructions on how to hold her mouth. What great joy for a grandfather on his birthday. The bugs were biting before the trout.

Mr. Meyer brought a handful of fish food and threw it in. Immediately the trout boiled to the top and hit every piece. I watched where they came from and put my worm right in front of them, bingo! I called Marley over and gave her the rod. It was a real struggle for a three-year-old, but she got him to the edge and I pulled him out, all 7 inches of him. Marley and I were both delighted. He was hooked through the upper lip and I showed her how to take him off the hook. Back to the pond. Marley was ready for more. I few bug bites later we had another small one on the line. Marley did her very best on this one too. The difference came when it was time to take the hook out. He had swallowed the hook and was bleeding as soon as we took him out of the pond. She watched as I stuck my finger down his throat and pried the hook out. Marley lost her interest in fishing.

Mickelle caught a 2 lb one next and Marley watched from a distance. Yep, it swallowed the hook too. She went and sat down with her La-la (Laura). Mac caught one finally after Mickelle caught another. Finally I had a large one on the line but Marley was not sure she wanted any part of this fish. It got away and we called it a day. We thought it best to keep her away while we cleaned our catch. That will be another day...

Uncle Mac