Tuesday, June 24, 2025

THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW IF YOU MOVE TO THE SOUTH

 THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW IF YOU MOVE TO THE SOUTH.

1. A possum is a flat animal that sleeps in the middle of the road.

2. There are 5,000 types of snakes and 4,998 of them live in the South.

3. There are 10,000 types of spiders. All 10,000 of them live in the South, plus a couple no one's seen before.

4. If it grows, it'll stick ya. If it crawls, it'll bite cha.

5. Onced and Twiced are words.

6. It is not a shopping cart, it is a buggy!

7. Jawl-P? means: Did you all go to the bathroom?

8. People actually grow, eat, and like okra.

9. Fixinto is one word. It means I'm going to do something.

10. There is no such thing as lunch. There is only dinner and then there's supper.

11. Iced tea is appropriate for all meals and you start drinking it when you're two. We do like a little tea with our sugar. It is referred to as the Wine of the South.

12. Backwards and forwards means I know everything about you.

13. The word jeet is actually a question meaning, 'Did you eat?'

14. You don't have to wear a watch, because it doesn't matter what time it is, you work until you're done or it's too dark to see.

15. You don't PUSH buttons, you MASH em.

16. Y'all is singular. All Y'all is plural.

17. All the festivals across the state are named after a fruit, vegetable, grain, insect, or animal.

18. You carry jumper cables in your car for your OWN car.

19. You only own five spices: salt, pepper, Cajun seasoning, Tabasco, and ketchup.

20. The local papers cover national and international news on one page, but require 6 pages for local high school sports, motorsports, and gossip.

21. Everyone you meet is a Honey, Sugar, Miss (first name), or Mr (first name)

22. You think that the first day of deer season is a national holiday.

23. You know what a hissy fit is.

24. Fried catfish is the other white meat.

25. We don't need no dang Driver's Ed. If our mama says we can drive, we can drive!!!

26. You understand these jokes and forward them to your Southern friends and those who just wish they were from the South.

AND one more:

27. Why did the chicken cross the road? To show that stupid possum that it CAN be done!

The Castellows - Hurricane



30 miles off the Gulf Stream, I hear the south wind moan
Bridges gettin' lower, the shrimp boats coming home
But the old man down in the Quarter slowly turns his head
Takes a sip from his whiskey bottle and this is what he said

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain
Underneath the Louisiana moon
I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June
The high black water, the devil's daughter
She's hard, and she's cold and she's mean
But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water
To wash away New Orleans

A man came down from Chicago, he's gonna set that levee right
He said, "It needs to be at least three feet higher
Or it won't make it through the night"
But the old man down in the Quarter
Said, "Don't you listen to that boy
The water it'll be down by the morning, and he'll be back to Illinois"

And I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain
Underneath the Louisiana moon
I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June
The high black water, the devil's daughter
She's hard, and she's cold, and she's mean
But nobody taught her it takes a lot of water to wash away New Orleans

30 miles off the Gulf Stream, I hear the south wind moan
Bridges gettin' lower, the shrimp boats coming home
But the old man down in the Quarter slowly turns his head
Takes a sip from his whiskey bottle and this is what he said

I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain
Underneath the Louisiana moon
I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June
The high black water, the devil's daughter
She's hard, and she's cold, and she's mean
But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water
To wash away New Orleans

And I was born in the rain on the Pontchartrain
Underneath the Louisiana moon
I don't mind the strain of a hurricane, it comes around every June
The high black water, the devil's daughter
She's hard, and she's cold, and she's mean
But nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water
To wash away New Orleans
And nobody taught her, it takes a lot of water
To wash away New Orleans

Wednesday, June 4, 2025

Morin Family of Maine a Short History

Years ago I was given a document that was several pages in length. I glanced at it for an instant and found it mildly interesting with the intent to read with concentration, at some point. 

As it seems to go in life, things set aside are soon forgotten. 

But it was given to me with a purpose in that it served as a baseline of my wife's family history. It would be ten years before I read it again with an understanding of what it represented.

This is my journey as much as it was that of young Laurent Morin who was only 12 at the time he wrote the following in his journal.


Laurent’s Journal

Translated from French and transcribed by Amy Bouchard Morin

The Family is Moving to Maine

The year is 1882 and my name is Laurent (Lawrence) Morin. I am 12 years old. Right now, my home is in Saint Epiphane, a very small village near Riviere du Loup in the province of Quebec in Canada.

But I'm preparing to move to l’etat du Maine dans les Etats Unis (the State of Maine in the United States) with my family.

I am wondering what it will be like to move to a different country. We all speak French in my family, and we do not understand another language. This is the same as everyone in our town. I am told they only speak English in this place where we are moving. How will I make friends? How can I go to school and understand the teacher who will be speaking English? My younger brother Francois (Frank) is afraid the whole family will get lost and that we will not be able to find someone who understands us to help us find our way. But I tell him that Papa says not to worry. There will be other people who have moved to this place from Quebec before us, and they will be able to speak with us and help us get settled.

This is the reason Papa has decided that we need to move. Papa works as a stonemason. He builds foundations and buildings out of stone and brick. There is no work here for him to earn a living and support our large family. In our small village and in all the villages and towns around here there is no work, not just for him but for most of the men in the area.

He has been very worried, but he has been trying to keep it hidden from the children. I have heard him talking with Maman (Mama) in the evenings when he thought all the children were asleep. So, now I have been worrying too.

We are 11 children in our family, and I am the oldest. When you count Maman and Papa that makes 13 people that Papa is trying to support. It is a good thing that we now have a cow and a couple of pigs and some chickens, and that Maman has been growing a big garden for vegetables.

I work hard helping Papa to take care of the animals when I'm not in school. All the children in our family have chores to do. The boys work helping Papa with the animals and outdoor work. The girls help Maman with the housework weeding the garden canning the vegetables when they are ready, and taking care of the babies,

There has been no money for food, so the animals and garden are what is keeping the family alive. Papa has not been able to find work and earn money for clothes or any other things our family needs. Papa heard from one of his friends that there would be a meeting in the town, telling about jobs in les Etats (the States). His friend read about the meeting on a paper tacked to a notice board at the railroad station in town. So, Papa and his friend went to the meeting the other evening with a lot of other men from the village.

There was a man there who came from a town called Old Town in the state of Maine. It was funny that this man could speak French, I thought everyone in the United States spoke English.

The man told them that there was work for everyone who would move to this town. “They are building mills to make shoes and cloth in Old Town”, the man said. They need people to build mills, they need people to work in the new mills and also to work in the mills that are already there. Papa said his ears perked up at that news.

They also need stoneworkers. That means he could find a job right away. Papa told us that there was also a mill that makes paper in this town. That mill needs wood to make papers so there is also work in the woods if the men want to do this to earn money.

Also, the man said there is one area in the town where some people have moved from Quebec are settling. That means there are others in the town who can speak our language.

When Papa came back from the meeting, he and Maman talked a long while about what the man from Old Town said at the meeting. Papa said there was opportunity for him to work. Also, all of us would be able to find work and earn a living as we grew up. Things are not looking so good here in Quebec.

What will the children do when it comes time to find work when even Papa who has a trade cannot do so? Finally, after a lot of talking, Papa convinced Maman that it was too big an opportunity to turn down. Papa went back to Riviere du Loup and talked with a man and found out how he could go about moving our family to this place.

Now he and Maman are packing up everything that we will need to bring us to our new life for our family into wooden boxes and a couple of big brown top trunks. Poor Maman has to think hard about what she will need for this new place to make a home for all of us. It will not be easy to decide what we will bring for 13 people and what we will have to leave behind.

We cannot bring everything since there is only room for necessities. Maman will have to bring pots, pans, dishes, and flatware for the kitchen, sheets, blankets, pillows for the beds, and things she'll need to make and mend clothes (like needles and scissors).

We each have a set of clothes for church and two sets for everyday clothes. So, Maman will have to pack our two sets of everyday clothes. We will be wearing our Sunday-go-to-church clothes on the trip. With so many children clothes are always handed down until they're worn out. Since I'm the oldest boy I'm lucky to get new clothes.

Sometimes my younger brothers grumble about having to wear my old clothes. I hear Maman ask Papa if it snows in Maine, and if she should pack winter coats. There is a lot for her to think about. Papa needs to pack all of his tools for his work. He also needs to sell the animals and things that we cannot bring with us before we leave. This will give him a bit of money to pay for our train tickets and help us get settled in a new place called Old Town.


The town of St. Epiphane and the Catholic Church attended by the Morin family

I wonder, where is Old Town anyway? It must be a really big place to have all that work for people. St. Epiphane is only farms in a tiny village with the general store and the Catholic Church which everyone in the village attends.

If people work other than on the farm, they go to Riviere du Loop which is close by and can be reached by horse.

Yesterday I heard Maman tell Mme. LaRouche our next-door neighbor that if she wanted to take care of the garden, she could have all the vegetables for her family for next winter. Mme. LaRouch was very glad for Maman’s offer.

Papa bought our tickets for the train today and made arrangements for all of our things too. We leave in two days. Today, after I helped Maman pack up some of my things, I took a walk to the village and visited all the neighbors along the way. One of the neighbors was also packing up and will be moving to Old Town, too. They will leave next week so we will get there before them. I'm glad to know that their family would be moving to this place too. At least there will be someone that we know. I wish they would be on the same train with our family. It would be nice to have some familiar faces on the ride.

Oh, I wonder what it will be like in this place where people speak different language. I just thought of this …. I wonder if the food will be different. We are used to Maman’s good French cooking. I suppose we will still find the things she needs to cook the same foods that she cooks here. I hope so. When we arrive, we will not have our animals and garden to give us food. I wonder if this will be a problem.

We leave for the United States

I'm a little bit worried but I'm excited too. Tomorrow morning, we leave for a new home. even a new country. After a busy day of packing all the people in the town came to our house to say goodbye and wish us well. Mr. Bouchard came with his violin and the neighbor ladies brought all kinds of good food. We were thankful for the food because all the pans and dishes are packed away. Maman has some bread and butter saved aside for our breakfast tomorrow before we leave.

After we ate, we had a goodbye party, with Mr. Bouchard playing his jigs and reels. Some people clogged while they sat in their chairs, some played the spoons and some got up and danced,

There was a lot of room to dance finding a common test record cases since most of our belongings are in boxes and piled on the porch and in the parlor. The only things left around would be picked up by their new owners after we leave tomorrow. When it was time for all of our friends to leave, there were hugs all around.

Our neighbor who will be following us next week did not say goodbye. He said, “I will see you in the next week.” And, he told Papa when his train was supposed to arrive in this new town. Papa told him that he would meet his train. After everyone went home it was time for us to go to bed and try to sleep. I have too many questions in my head to sleep. Will someone meet us at the train station? I hope they speak French. Francois (Frank) asked me if we will still be Canadians after we moved to this new place in another country? I don't know the answer, so I will have to remember to ask Papa. Will my brothers and sisters and I find some new friends who can speak French? If we can't life is going to be very difficult for sure.

Where will we go to live, when we get to this new place? I think I heard Papa say that he had made arrangements with a man from the meeting to rent a house. I am too young to understand all these important things, but I guess I am not too young to worry. My younger brothers and sisters are always asking me questions that I can't answer.

Oh well, I know that Papa would not leave here without having a plan. It is hard to get to sleep though with all these things going through my head.

Two of our neighbors arrived early this morning before the sun came up. They had their big wagons pulled by two horses each, and they loaded up all the boxes and trunks in one of the wagons, and our family in the second wagon.

We will miss all our good neighbors and friends. Maman was crying when we drove off, and she watched our house until we went over the hill, and she couldn't see it anymore. Some of the children were crying too, but I wasn't. I am too old to cry, besides this was exciting.

The neighbors whose houses we passed on the way to the station, all came out of their houses and waved and called to us.

“Bonne chance, Jean-Baptiste et Domitilde!”.

Whole families were standing in front of their houses waving. Many of my friends, Mamans were crying too. Francois wants to know why people are crying. I tell him they are sad to see good friends move so far away, and that they are thinking they will never see us again, Now Francois is crying! Papa says for me to stop making Frank (Francois) cry. Heck I was just answering his question.

I keep stretching my neck to see around my brothers and sisters. I want to be the first one to see the train station. This ride to the train in Riviere du Loup seems to take forever. Finally, I can see the station, there is a train at the platform with steam coming out of the engine.


Railroad Station and Locomotive at Riviere du Loup Canada Circa 1890

We drive up to the station platform and our luggage is unloaded into a big pile near a man wearing a uniform who is weighing everything on a big scale.

After everything is weighed, the man calls went Papa over and tells him that he has 50 pounds too much luggage for 13 people. Papa must take 50 pounds of our things and leave them behind!

He tells the neighbor who brought us to the station to wait and he can have whatever we have to leave. Maman cries some more. How can we leave anything behind? We only packed what we absolutely had to have.


I.C.R. Railway Station in Riviere du Loup Canada Circa 1911

After much talk in many tears, we finally have the correct weight for our luggage and the man in the uniform marks all our boxes and trunks and gives Papa a paper. Now we can all get on the train.


Temiscquata Railway Passenger Car Circa 1900

The train has lots of cars. There's an engine and a car with coal, there are six cars to hold people (they call them passenger cars), there are two or three cars to hold boxes and trunks (they are called freight cars) and there's a car at the very end called the caboose.

There are a lot of people on this train. All the passenger cars are pretty much filled up. I can see a group of people that look like families sitting together.

Our family fills a lot of seats on our passenger car. Francois sits right beside me as close as he can get. He is only five years old, and he is a little afraid of all of this. I tell him that I will watch out for him so he shouldn't be afraid. Finally, the train blows its whistle and slowly pulls away from the station. We are on our way to our new life!

This is this is my first train ride. The train goes faster and faster. I have never moved so fast in my life. Our horse couldn't ever go this fast! I watch the fields and buildings fly by the window. If I look straight out things are blurred, so I have to look out the window at an angle. This way I'm looking either ahead to where we are going, or back to see what we already passed. But it doesn't take too long before my eyes start to close.

I'm so tired from not sleeping much last night and all this excitement has worn me out. We make a few short stops along the way and I have little naps between stops. Then the train crosses a river, Papa says the river is the Saint John River. On our side of the river is Canada on the other side is the United States. The river is la frontier (the border). We are now in a place called Maine.

We stopped right after we crossed the river and the man got on the train and walked through the cars asking questions and checking papers. Then the trains started again.

Here is something strange. We're traveling through farmland as far as I can see out my window. The land here doesn't look any different from where we came from, but Papa says we are now in the United States now. Wouldn't you think it would look different in another country? This is one more thing I do not understand. I think I still have a lot to learn.

Oh, my goodness I spoke too soon. I had another nap and when I woke up the train was going through woods. I don't see many farms now. All I can see is trees on either side of the train. Papa says we are in the forest of Maine and that the mills that make paper use trees from the forest. He says that men go into the woods during the winter and cut trees. They live in the woods at camps that the mills build for them about six months of the year. In the spring when the ice in the river melts, the trees are put in the river, and they float down to the mills. then the men can get their wages and come home to their families. This sounds like a lot of lonely, hard work to me. I can't imagine that Papa had to do that work and not be with us for half the year. I'm glad my Papa is a stonemason.

We Arrive in Old Town

We ride through forests or farmland for the rest of the trip, sometimes stopping at small towns that pop up. After awhile I figure out that we will be coming to a town soon when I see farms out of the window. Then before we come to a town a man with the uniform comes through the car he calls out the name of the town. They call him a conductor. He checks people’s tickets when they get on the train. I think I would like to do his job. He gets to ride on the train and meet new people all the time. Every time I see a conductor coming, I listen to hear if he says “Old Town”.

I am watching out the window and see a small town. The train doesn't stop here it goes right on through. We go over a bridge and ride the short way we go over it's another bridge and here comes the conductor saying “Old Town”. “Old Town”. My heart starts to beat faster, and I say to Francois, “We are going to get off”. “We are in Old Town.”

 

Old Town Maine Railroad Station Postcard Circa 1900

The train stops, and we all get off the train stand on the platform with Maman while Papa finds the man with the wagon that he can hire to take us to our new house.

I see Papa take a paper out of his pocket and give it to the man who nods his head. Papa came back and told us that the paper told the man where he needs to take us. I must have missed something because Papa already knows the address where we will live, and it is on an island called Treat and Webster Island.

This is a strange name this island has. It must be an English name. We get into the wagon and off we go. We follow the river and the railroad tracks back to a crossroad and turn right and cross a bridge. 

The railroad bridge that we crossed is right beside this bridge that we are on.


Double Trestle Railroad Bridge Across the Penobscot River 2018

We no sooner cross the bridge than the wagon turns right, and we cross the railroad tracks and climb a very steep hill.


Front Street Entrance to Treat and Webster (French) Island Community 2018

The wagon driver says “Treat and Webster Island” so I know that's where we are now, on the island that we will live.

 


Sign installed in 2014 Treat & Webster Island aka French Island 2018

There are quite a few houses on this island before I can blink my eyes the horses stop in front of a little house. The man said to papa this is our home. Maman is not happy with this little house. She goes from room to room deciding where to put things and sorting out the sleeping arrangement while I go with Papa and the man with the wagon back to the station to pick up our belongings.

When we get back to the station our things are just coming off the freight car. Papa checks his paper and counts all the boxes and things, and we load all our things onto the wagon and return to the house.

We have more help now. All the boys in our family who are big enough to start to unload our belonging from the wagon and put them in the house. It isn't long before some boys from the neighborhood come up and introduce themselves. They pitch in and help us unload wagons. I think I'm making some new friends. The girls help Maman place furniture, unload boxes and find places for things, and watch the youngest children.

After a few hours of hard work, Maman heard a voice call, Bonjour. She went to the door and there were three ladies who are new neighbors. They came to introduce themselves and welcome us to the neighborhood, and they brought some food for our supper.

One of the ladies brought a tourtiere and a dish that Maman called Melange, one brought a une soupe au pois (Pea Soup), and another lady brought had une grosse tarte au pomme (Apple Pie), which was made in a big pan, not a small pie pan. The food is just like what Maman made in Canada.

Everyone is speaking French like us, and we are already starting to feel at home. Maybe this place won't be so bad after all. It will take a few days to settle into the house. Tomorrow Papa is going to town to report for work. He says he will be working on a foundation for a new mill where people will work to make shoes. This is his first job at Old Town and he's looking forward to beginning work in this new country.

 

Treat & Webster (French) Island Old Town, Maine 2009

Epilogue

Papa (Jean Baptiste Morin) and Maman (Domithidle Rose Theriault) would not return to Canada. Maman would instead spend the rest of her life in Old Town Maine, living on French Island raising her many children and making wonderful “une grosse tarte au pomme” (French Apple Pie) in very large cake pans.


Eglise De Saint-Epiphane according to Ovide Morin Jean Baptiste Morin helped build in 1870

Papa as a master mason, would help build hundreds of homes, factories and businesses around Old Town, Bangor and Orono. Including many of the buildings at the University of Maine. In his spare time, he was an expert cobbler making leather moccasins for his children and many friends.

Both Jean and Rose Morin would embrace the American July 4th holiday and celebrate their new United States home, but perhaps wistfully they still hummed "La Marseillaise" the French National anthem while surrounding themselves with the French culture that flourished on French Island.

Much of what young Laurent described in his journal remains today as it was more than 140 years ago.



The trip from Riviere’-du-Loup to Old Town would last nearly 9 hours. It is likely that the Morin family took the Temiscouata Railway which ran on the Canadian Pacific rails and the rails of what would become the BAR (Bangor and Aroostook Railway). They would have passed countless small towns and farms with rich soil. Then crossing the St. John River at St. Leonards, Canada they would then head west and again south towards Caribou, Maine as the train would enter the vast “North Woods” of Maine and eventually reaching Old Town,

Today the Old Town Train Station remains, albeit, in sad dis-repair.



The short trip from the station to Treat & Webster (French) Island is exactly as Laurent described. Down to a crossroad, turn right go across the bridge with the railroad trestle which his train had just crossed in view and immediately after crossing turn right go across the railroad tracks and up the hill (Front Street).






While the exact home that the family moved into is unknown, US census records show that in 1900 the family lived on Front Street. In fact, a short ride up the hill brings you to a group of small “Mill Houses” that understandably Maman would “not be happy about”.



But by 1910 the Morin family (according to the US Census), had moved around the corner to Bodwell Street. And there on Bodwell Street just happens to be a home with the obvious handy work of a skilled stone mason. The stone wall, perhaps now 100 years old is still in perfect condition.

 


Laurent and his younger brother Francois would be best friends for life and business partners.


Together Laurent and Francois would open a small produce stand.



Which two years later would open for the season a little larger.



By 1897 Laurent would marry Atonia Dumond (Dumont) on the day after Christmas.


Laurent and son Lawrence, Jr., Francois (Frank) and brother Joseph and Clement - South Main Street Old Town Maine Circa 1922

Within a couple of years, Laurent and Francois opened a year around store on South Main Street in Old Town. By 1920 the store would employ many Morin family members, including son, Lawrence, Jr. and Francois and brothers Joseph and Clement.



The Morin Brothers store’s success was well documented in the local papers.

 

The Laurent Morin home at 1 Hayes Street on French Island Old Town Maine.

Laurent and Atonia Dumond would soon build their own home on French Island located at 1 Hayes Street. Just around the corner from the small mill house the family occupied in 1882.


The Hayes Street home as it stands today.

 

 

Peter and Amanda Grant

Laurent’s baby sister Amelia Amanda Mary Morin would grow up to marry Peter Grant on 9 August 1893. Daughter Alice was born the next year, followed by Bernadette, and later son Jesse and daughter Doris.

Peter and Amanda Grant’s home on Carrol Street in 1910 was just across the Penobscot River from French Island. In 1940 their home is listed as 15 South Brunswick just two doors north of Epiphane (Dave) Morin at 21 South Brunswick.

Alice would marry Joseph Francois Xavier Bosse’ which is another story that includes Little Tunk Pond and the famous explorer Admiral Bird.

Bernadette “Bertha” Grant would marry Peter Joseph O’Dell on June 10, 1919, in Old Town Maine.

They would raise three children of their own: Joseph Andrew born 10 November 1920, Madeline Eleanor born 2 August 1924 and Doris Elizabeth born 27 February 1926.

Joseph, Doris and Eleanor would each have two children of their own (Two girls, Two boys, and a boy and a girl).

Today the legacy of Jean Baptiste Morin and Domithilde “Rose” Theriault, spans three different centuries and seven generations. (Morin Brothers Automotive Old Town owners are 4th cousins).

Chances are if you're reading this and live in Maine you are related, perhaps only distantly to my wife.

Descendants of French-Canadian immigrants today make up approximately 30% of the population of the state of Maine. The QuƩbecois who settled in the United States did so throughout Northern Maine and much of New England. Their migration was via the land bridges across the border separating the United States and Canada many of them by railroad.

The purpose of their migration was the same for all -- work, mostly in the woods and the mills.

Both Laurent and Francois would adopt Americanized versions of their names Lawrence and Frank. Brother, Jean would become John.

Rose would always speak beautiful French and was a wonderful cook and gracious host to all who would visit. Morin family members were well known for their stores and cooking, something that was passed onto future generations

Lawrence Jr’s home on South Main would pass to his son and son’s wife in 1989 who still reside there as of 2022.

Finally, for today’s living descendants of Jean Baptiste and Rose it is odd to note that your entire existence is due simply to a random combination of economic factors in Canada during the 1880’s and a woman’s willingness to “finally, after a lot of talking” agree to uproot her family on a man’s promise of love and affection and move to another country in hopes of a better life.

And perhaps as the French would say “Bonne Chance” (Good Luck).

 


Wednesday, May 7, 2025

Two Dozen Eggs and a Long Walk

During the summers, I spent much of my childhood in the “country” at my grandparents’ home in Southern Illinois. 

Hard to understand how part of a state, known mostly for liberal politics and northern arrogance, could have a region that belongs more to Alabama and Tennessee than the Midwest. But that's the case with Marion and Williamson County in the far southern tip of the Land of Lincoln.

If you head south out of Marion on State 37, turn left on Grassy Road and follow the signs to the United States Penitentiary Marion, you’ll soon find the corner of Grassy Road and Grange Hall Road. At that very corner you will also find what once was the EL Duty Farm and the Duty Pond.



The area hasn’t changed much in half a century. My grandfather’s TV antenna, a remote-controlled directional positioning tower still stand but has now been converted to a flagpole thanks to cable and the internet. 

It once held a massive TV antenna that could be “aimed” at Chicago, Paducah or St. Louis and optimistically allow you to receive a strong VHF TV station signal and watch the Cardinals or Cubs baseball games. 

                

To the west lays 20 some acres of corn just as it did in my childhood. To the south a 2-acre man made pond once stocked with bass and brim. The concrete cinder block garage that once held my grandfather’s wooden Chris Craft speed boat, and a tractor still stands.

But the single wide skirted mobile home and a large patio with a massive aluminum awning has been replaced by a modest ranch style home. Gone are the rows of fruit trees, grape arbor and a quarter acre perfectly maintained vegetable garden. 

But the tall rows of “Dekalb 45” corn still look like the outfield wall at the field of dreams in Iowa.

As kids, the summer lasted forever, and we prayed each night that our parents would one day arrive to retrieve us from the god forsaken rural purgatory.  Something that I have now come to understand was really nirvana and life there was in a place called utopia. 

I little way down the Grange Hall Road was the Addison Farm. My grandmother would call Mrs. Addison on the party line phone.  “Beth, I’m sending the boys down”. 

She’d hang up the phone and hand us a wire basket and dollars’ worth of change. 

“Yuns” go to the Addison’s and bring me back 2 dozen eggs. You can keep any leftover change but if you break any eggs I’ll have to charge you for them.  After this stern warning to not break the eggs came a pointless, but she felt necessary caution, “walk on the same side of the road, walk single file, watch out for the mail truck and don’t break any of those eggs”.

The walk to Addison’s was at least 6 miles and uphill both ways or at least it seemed. I guess it was really about 600 yards give or take. But enough distance for two boys to get into all sorts of mischief.  Cicadas, grasshoppers and crows, sticker burs and rocks occupied the dusty gravel road soaking in the early morning summer’s warmth. We tossed rocks at crows, caught grasshoppers, poked, kicked, spit, and repeated four letter words that we heard our grandfather yell when he hit his thumb with a hammer.

It was amazing how two boys could turn a ten-minute walk into a daylong adventure along a gravel road in rural Illinois. Imagine Andy and Opie Taylor just talking and walking or Beavis and Butthead you decide.

In those days the eggs were maybe 50 cents a dozen. Mr. Addisson’s tractor in the distance meant the dogs were out scouting rabbits in the pasture. The gate on the picket fence swung open and we stormed the Addison property like we were Marines. 

Mrs. Addison appeared and carefully placed 2 dozen eggs in our wire basket. I held out my hand full of change and she took what she needed, which left us 2 quarters and a couple of dimes. 

Then she gave us an extra two eggs just in case.

The same admonishment was given “single file, walk facing the traffic watch out for the mail truck”. 

Truth is the mail truck wouldn’t come to at least 3 and we were the only traffic the dusty gravel road would see until then. 

The return walk was just as awesome and totally uneventful. 

The day lingered the morning gave way to midday with Paul Havey, where I’d hear the voice of the famed broadcaster over the radio, in the kitchen. About the time grandpa returned home Harvey’s voice would say "Hello, Americans (pause) I'm Paul Harvey (pause) Stand by for News!" and as if on cue the door would swing open, and grandpa would ask what’s for lunch? 

Soon all were settled down for garden raised tomato sandwiches leftovers from dinner and a dozen cookies. The afternoon heat and humidity was only interrupted by the sound of distant thunder about the time Paul Harvey signed off.

Now decades later I long for those walks on a dusty road to nowhere. The sound of distant thunder and cicadas in the tall grass of our nation’s rural countryside. A time where the only worry is the mail truck and what’s for lunch.

"Paul Harvey (pause) Good day!"


Monday, April 21, 2025

Dead Duck on Easter Sunday

Funny what recollections come with someone's passing. 

My mother passed away last Thursday after a courageous battle with cancer. She loved Holidays and Easter was no exception.

True story from several years ago - 

So, after the awesome Easter sunrise service at Providence High School, my mom is just crying like crazy which really odd because it could not have been a more perfect Easter Sunday morning.

The weather was perfect, the sunrise stunning, we had our entire family in the bleachers, taking up two rows, the sermon was stirring with a meaningful Easter message, we even had a flock of geese flying overhead just as the sun rose and the preacher shouted "He has Risen" to which the crowd replied "He has Risen Indeed" in unison.


Then the truth comes out. My mother who was late as usual was rushing to catch up with the rest of us and as she barrels down the driveway and up our street she managed to mow down one of God's creatures right in the middle of the road.

In the predawn darkness just 100 yards from our house and on our dead end street, was a very large and very slow moving Canadian Goose. She hit the hapless bird so hard that feathers were embedded in the grill of her car!

Trying to console her, was of no use.

Sure enough, returning to our street after the service, there’s a dead goose in the middle of the road. 

What made it worse was the procession of family cars that came over the crest of the hill had to swerve around the lifeless huge black, gray and white bird, it's webbed feet pointing to the heavens.

The only thing that could have made it more cinematic would have been police cars with blue lights, neighbors and crime scene techs huddled around it, as EMTs continued chest compressions on the dead duck.

Needless to say breakfast on that particular Easter Sunday was rather subdued. 

Love Ya Mom!

Monday, April 7, 2025

Tiger Woods and 2 Pickled Eggs

The broken pavement is a mix of asphalt, gravel and pine needles. A warm spring breeze blows through hundred year old oaks and several dozen large pine trees. 

Two young black boys drop their bicycles and scamper up the wood steps of the “Midway Grocery and Service Center”. 

They dash inside just as a pickup truck’s tires scratch away at the gravel and then bark as rubber meets the asphalt, that lies just beyond the pine needles. 

I have a good sense of direction most the time, and as long as I have a half tank of gas, I can eventually find my own way even when trying to take a short cut across the South Carolina Lowcountry. No need to ask for directions, it’s a man thing don’t you know? 

I purposefully park my new black SUV just to the right of the building, slightly out of eyesight of anyone inside the small country store. 

The other cars are at least ten years older; a faded blue rusting pickup dates from the 60’s, a Ford wagon and Chevy Nova sit around back. 

The only new car is a red Honda that is parked in the spot with a sign that says “Reserved for Bubba”. 

Midway Grocery is just that, midway between the last place I thought I was and the next place I thought I was going. 

I’m lost and without a good map or GPS, I’ve given in to the need to ask for directions. 

I negotiate my way around the bicycles, hot on the trail of the two young boys and before I know it the screen door has slammed shut behind me. 

The two boys fidget as if they are in need of a bathroom. They are trying their best to wait patiently in front of the counter, each holding on tightly to a single crumpled dollar bill. 

The man behind the counter looks to me and I look to the young boys. He nods, then looks at the two boys and asks: “What can I do for you two?”. 


“Sir, I want one of them there eggs”. The smaller of the two boys pleads. 

The eggs are floating in a gallon jar filled with a vinegar and brine solution, pickling spice and dotted with just the right number of large red pepper flakes. 

The jar has a red lid about six inches across, and it sounds like a dull cymbal dropped on the floor when turned. The jar is only half full of eggs but full of liquid so the man’s hand plunges in past his wrist, as he retrieves one of the eggs. 

No latex glove, no tongs, no fork just his bare hand. A hand that belongs to someone who knows hard work. His fingers are fat and they dwarf the glistening and slippery white egg. I watch as he places the egg in a paper towel and carefully hands it to the first boy. 

“That will be 35 cents” he says. The second boy steps to the counter. He’s a little taller and I suspect they are brothers. The man looks at the second boy and says “I’d supposed you want one too?” “Yes Sir” the older boy replies and the process is repeated. 

Then lid spins in a clockwise direction like a banker closing a safe after securing a large sum of money inside. The eggs adjust to fill the space of their recently departed comrades. 

But before taking his hand off the jar, the man who I assume is named Bubba looks my way and asks if I’d like a pickled egg too. “No sir, but thank you”. I reply. He smiles and offers that he wouldn’t eat one of those things either. 

I’ve said yes sir and yes ma’am all my life and I figure that if I want directions to the Augusta National Golf Club from Bubba at the Midway Grocery I’d better be polite. Truth is I can’t help but say yes sir and yes ma’am its just the way I was raised. 

I explain where I’m heading and Bubba laughs as he informs me that I’m so far out in the sticks that even the deer have maps. 

The screen door slams shut again, and I find the two boys taking up two thirds of the steps, both eyeing me copiously. “Mister did ya find out where you’re going?” The younger one asks. “Yes, I did. Thank you” I reply. 

The older boy offers that "Augusta ain't that far" and asks if I’m going to see Tiger Woods play golf. I’m surprised that these two boys are not only smart but they also have really good hearing. “Yes I suppose I’m going to see Tiger Woods” I offer. 



“We’ll you tell him that when I get old enough I’m going whip him good” The younger boy whose name is Cameron, jumps to his feet, and offers his best Bill Murray swing. 

It’s actually dead on, head still, shoulders, feet, with a full Tiger wrap around backswing. I don’t say anything and just smile, because the kid has a really good swing. 

"One day we’re going to build a golf course right here. This will be “Amen Corner” from this spot right here, all the way to the big old oak tree way down there”. Cameron adds. 

I guess the yardage to the big old oak tree at less than 25 yards. "A par 3?" I ask. “Heck NO! It’s a par 12” Cameron’s brother informs me. “You know it wouldn’t surprise me with all the pot holes in this driveway” I tell them both, while trying to keep from laughing too hard. 

I leave Cameron and his brother, both now swinging invisible clubs at invisible golf balls in the parking lot. 

Honestly Bubba might have given me directions to Greenbow, Mississippi for all I know. But somehow given the general direction of his gestures, I drive 3 miles turn left at the DeKalb corn sign, and then left again at the church with the cemetery and find a four lane that takes me right to Bobby Jones Expressway in the heart of Augusta, Georgia. 

The azaleas are in bloom and the dogwoods have come to life, and once again CBS Sports will carry the Masters with "limited commercial interruption" from emerald green fairways of Augusta National Golf Club. 

At the same time, just down the road at the Midway Grocery and Service Center, Cameron and his brother will be playing for pickled eggs on a short par three ... errrr, I mean par 12 that also serves as the parking lot. 

Tiger you better have your game on!

Greenbow Mississippi Forrest Gump’s fictional hometown was actually filmed in South Carolina and while the house has since been torn down the scenic vistas remain. Head to Yemassee, South Carolina if you need directions just ask Bubba.

The above is a factual account of this day back in 2006, before WAZE and on board navigation became standard.  Tiger didn't win in 2006 Lefty did, but two kids in rural South Carolina stole the day. I hope you enjoyed this break from the madness as much as I did retelling this story. - CP

Thursday, March 20, 2025

Baseball Returns In One Week


Tom Grieve's experience on Ted Williams:

"Ted Williams was debating whether to play in the "Jimmy Fund Game" in Boston, at Fenway in 1972. 

He wasn't sure until Mr. Yawkey (Thomas Yawkey Red Sox owner) asked him personally to play, so he did. 

He came into the dugout looking for a bat for batting practice. He was in the zone now, not like the rest of us. I used a W183 bat, I had no idea what it stood for, but he picked out that bat, and I later found out the W stood for Williams! 

Ted grabbed the bat and said, 'Now this is a damn good bat.'

Then he went looking for pine tar and screamed out, 'There's too much f****** oil in this pine tar, no wonder you guys can't f****** hit.'

So he walked to the plate, and Lee Stange was throwing. Ted  screamed at him, 'Now throw the ball hard, don't be throwing any shit up here.'

He took the first pitch, Ted always took the first pitch. I looked at a teammate and said, 'I hope he swings & misses 20 times.'

Ted took 15 swings, and hit every one on the sweet spot. He hit every one hard. 

I looked at Nellie Fox after the round and said, 'Nellie, that was pretty impressive…. The guy hasn't picked up a bat in five years and he hit every ball hard,''' Nellie just looked at me and said, 'Ted`s has been hitting in the cage for six weeks, just in case he decided to play today. You didn't really think he would go out there and embarrass himself?"

  • The Jimmy Fund Game: The Jimmy Fund is a major fundraising event for Boston Children's Hospital, and Ted Williams was a strong supporter of the charity. 
  • Williams's Appearance: Williams, who was days shy of his 54th birthday, was a special attraction for the game, and fans chanted "We want Ted!". 
  • The Home Run: Williams hit a ball that was ruled to have hit the foul pole, and the official scorer ruled it a home run, which led to Yawkey donating an additional $250 to the Jimmy Fund. 
  • Other Players: Ted Lepcio and Walt Dropo also hit home runs in the game. 
  • Red Sox Win: Luis Tiant threw a four-hitter and the Red Sox won, 4-0. 
  • Williams's Impact: Williams had a significant impact on the Jimmy Fund, and Mike Williams, the Jimmy Fund Head, stated that "If it wasn't for Ted Williams, I'm convinced that the Jimmy Fund would not be what it is today". 
  • The "W183" refers toa signature model of baseball bat used by Ted Williams, a model known for its weight and length, and can be found in Louisville Slugger Professional Bat Ordering Records.