Posts Tagged ‘Stories of Home’

Easter Memories

I had a dream this morning.

Not a Martin Luther style, but one that comes of being relaxed in warm blankets on a spring Easter morning.

I was dreaming of being a kid again in my grand parents yard.

My grandparents and whatever aunts and uncles as well as my own parents (if any of the aforementioned were home from deployment) would all be on the porch following service and playing old bluegrass gospel tunes. We kids would be scattered throughout the front yard chasing easter eggs and what not. My grandfather would tie fishing line to June bugs and Japanese beetles for us to fly around the yard. The smell of friend chicken and collard greens coming from my grandparents home. Fresh cut grass drying for hay and a morning dew so thick you could wash in it.

My grandpa had a Wurlitzer player. He’d put Jimmy Rogers on in the evenings most days, but for Easter it was always home grown. Except for Sunday service. No music was allowed during service, just voices which always struck me as odd for no sooner than we would get home then the instruments come out, the porch chairs be occupied and the music start.

 

 

It was so real, and I was so young I could feel the dew soaking my shoes and my socks making my feet squish when I would wiggle my toes. I could hear the hum of the beetles and the far off cigar tinged voice of my grandfather singing Silver Haired Daddy of Mine.

I am not a very religious person. I should be,  given my luck and the guilty conscious I was born with tells me I had best be and that I need to improve vastly.  But I find the dedication hard, given some things that I have witnessed and seen through the years here and in other countries. It all seems so futile sometimes. But I digress.

I won’t spoil my daughter with my terrors. For her, Easter is a day of service, eggs, chocolates, chicken and buttermilk biscuits for breakfast, and play time with her immediately family. It’s a time of home cooked meals, beautiful days with flowers in bloom.

My uncle, Charles Marshall, his trademark grin, his beloeved Ovation guitar, and a quick wit for those around him.

Religious or not I can’t help but feel a bit home sick, and a closeness to my relatives whom have been called home. My Aunt Betty who had a crooning voice so suited to Hobo Bill’s Last Ride it would give you chills when she sang it.  My grandfather, whose favorite song was most likely Little Log Cabin in the Lane. My Uncle Charlie who specialized in old cowboy songs and who, if I must admit, I modeled myself after in so many ways. He’s jovialness, always a smile, his ability to take everything in stride. I never had a chance to tell him before he was taken away. It always seemed so unmasculine, and immature. Now to feel that foolishness for just even a moment.  He would sing the yodeling cowboy songs with a brash grin spread across his face, like All Around the Water Tank.

My Grandfather, Arvil Stanley, how he remains in my mind: ball cap, cigar, and playing on his porch

In my head this morning we were all rejoined, and we kids played on in awe. Now I wish I could go back, for just a moment and play, and learn from them. To cover those old songs that my peers have never heard and have no memory of. The music can’t die with us, and it can’t go with them either. We must let it play on, for as I awake I realize that every time I try to play it, they are playing with me.

As the morning sun creeps in to my room, I try in vain to return to sleep, return to those days and that moment in time.

But we can’t go back. Home is never really home once you leave, trust me on this. But it is the place your always called back to by those who know you least while knowing you most.

Perhaps one day. But for now I have my memories, which I have chosen to share with you.

 

No More Christmas (Ghosts of Christmas Past)

(I wrote a similar story at Techography a number of years ago. Unfortunately the database back up does not have it so we presume it must have been lost when our then hosts Database crashed back in 2003. I have done my best to recreate the story here. Sadly memories fade over time, even a memory as strong as I feel mine is. I hope I did the original story justice as it was well received at the time.- BS)

Lloyd C. Bain. My Great grandfather. Taken around 1976

When I was a boy, my great grandfather took me to get a Christmas tree.

My mothers grandfather was a big man, even by todays standards. Standing over 6ft 8 inches tall, the former bulldozer driver was a product of the North Georgia Mountains and the Depression. He once frightened one of my mothers suiters so badly by merely shaking his hand the boy would not speak to her until after they graduated and she had moved out. That was almost 4 years later. I recall his hands being the size of a dinner plate nearly, and though I was very small at the time, compared to even most adults, including my own father he was a mountain of a man.

He lived in Blue Ridge Georgia, until that faithful day in 1988 when he left this world, at the age of 97. It took 8 men to carry his coffin. He was a lean, strong, sturdy rock of a man. I miss him dearly. He was my mothers hero, and mine as well at a young age.

Today when a person speaks of hunting a Christmas tree they go to a farm, where numerous trees are gathered and bound, cut and leaned against a fence.

At home we went walking in the woods, looking for a suitable evergreen, be it pine, cedar or even hemlock.

And so it was on this particular day, the season of the last Christmas I would spend with my great grandfather of whose name I bear as my own middle, he summoned me to his side for us to capture a tree for the family.

More after the jump
Read the rest of this entry »

The Day the Music Died

When I was 12 he walked in to our cabin with an Ovation guitar, and a gallon of Canadian Mist whiskey. He took the bottle cap off and flung it in to the night and with a trademark smile said “Lets play some music, fella’s!”

I have never forgotten that.

He was my Aunt Betty’s husband. A joyful, fun loving man who had a love for life and music I have never seen in another person in my years. Always quick to smile, shake hands, offer help, advice a comfort.

He would play, my Aunt Betty would sing in one of the most haunting voice I can recall.

He almost collapsed when at my Aunt Betty’s funeral. I cried, as much because I had never seen him cry before in my life, as for her loss.

He pulled me aside one day after a playing and told me “Son you have a gift, that none of us have. you can do anything with your hands your music. Keep at it, I have no doubts we’ll see you at the Opry.”

The way I ended up there is not the way he thought, or I thought. My ability was not as good as i or he thought, but I never had the courage to tell him that because I believe it might have broke his heart if I told him I had given up that dream. He always knew, we just never spoke of it.

He had a stroke a few years ago. He was losing himself in his body. He was not the man I or anyone else.

His service will be held at the church my grandfather was honored at, interred in the same graveyard as the others of my family, in a building my family built.

The ties that bond in Northern Georgia are strong, and deep.

He was one of the few people I visited every time I went home, without fail. I loved him.  My fathers compatriot, my inspiration, a man who would give you the shirt off his back and then play you a tune.

Today my world is a little less bright, as one of the brightest souls in my world has went out.

And once again the damn Road keeps me from going home, and my heart cracks a little more.

Mr. Charles B. Marshall age 74 of Stover Mtn View, Ellijay died Tuesday November 30, 2010.

Mr. Marshall was born on October 7, 1936 in Middlesboro, KY. He is the son of the late Charles Berwin Marshall & Mamie Lucas Marshall. He is preceded in death by his wife Betty Stanley Marshall. He was a warehouse manager and a veteran of the United States Air Force.

Survivors include: Sons and daughters-in-law: Kenny and Joyice Marshall, Waleska, Danny and Beckie Marshall, Ellijay, Ronnie and Anne Marshall, Ellijay; Sister: Jean Ann Cantwell, Johnson City, TX; Brother: Bill Marshall, Wichita Falls, TX; Grandchildren: Lance and Levi Marshall, Tiffany Reichert, Bethany Marrott.

Funeral services will be held Saturday December 4, 2010 at 2pm from the Pisgah Church of Christ. Interment will be held in the Pisgah Church of Christ Cemetery with military rites by the North Georgia Honor Guard. The family will meet with friends Friday Dec.3 from 3 until 8pm at the funeral home.

Flowers are accepted or donations may be made to the Pisgah Church of Christ cemetery fund in memory of Mr. Marshall.

Bernhardt Funeral Home in charge of arrangements.

Well, I know there’s a lotta big preachers that know a lot more than I do
But it could be that the good Lord likes a little pickin’ too

1st Anniversary!!

June 5th, 2009….ont of the happiest days of my life.  My wife and I moved in together about a month before this day, and soon after we were engaged, we learned that we were going to have a baby. 

This past weekend was our first anniversary, and we let her parents watch Gavin while we had a day to ourselves.  It started out with lunch at Zaxby’s, nothing fancy, but we needed a bite.  Then it was off to the hair salon, and we both got new hair cuts, (I was lookin a bit mangy as I have been growing out my buzz cut for just such a situation).  After that, we went to purchase our tickets for a movie we had been planning to see, and we were off to the nail salon.  My wife got her nails done, and her eyebrows waxed.  She was very excited about this.  After the nail salon, we saw a movie, then went to dinner. 

This is where it gets fun:

When I had proposed to her, I did it in the back, left hand side of Outback Steakhouse.  So we went back to the same Outback.  There we were, waiting to be brought back to our table, and the guy led us first to the left, and then to the back, and then right to the table in which I had proposed!!!

Needless to say, my wife cried, and we both reminisced, and had a great time. 

 

 

-v00d3W

Sweet summer rain….

I know, summer is not here yet, however, with the warm spell we are having here in Ga., it looks and feels a bit like it.  I woke up late this morning after a long night with my little man, one of the many to come, and decided to work from home.  I was able to go on my porch and drink coffee and enjoy the sights, sounds, and smells of what reminds me of those summer days when it is a slow steady rain.  I love it!  Something about summer rain calms me down , and lets me appreciate just how beautiful life is, even on a yucky rainy day.  The birds seem to be having fun splashing in the puddles, they don’t mind tha fact that it’s raining on them.  I can’t help but think that while we, as humans, take rainy days as unpleasant – nature thinks of it as a chance to grow, and recieve the much needed water.  Maybe the birds have a higher intellegence than we do.  They don’t take life for granted, they take everything life gives them, and uses it for their benifit.  We should be more like birds, don’t take life too seriously, you’ll never get out alive  :)  Next time it rains, go outside, sit on the porch, be quiet — and just listen, its really quite breathtaking.

v00d3W

Radio Intercepts
  • photo from Tumblr

    milligan-vick:

    Halloween Witcher
    art by Nastya Kulakovskaya

    Candy as Yennefer
    Anna as Ciri
    Torie as Triss
    photo by me

    10/31/17

  • photo from Tumblr

    Tejuino a local traditional Guadalajara cocktail. Tastes like a liquid corn tortilla

    10/25/17

  • photo from Tumblr

    Another custom cocktail from LLaura of Hyatt Andares of Guadalajara
    This is a berry, mescal and vodka blend!

    10/17/17

Translator
English flagItalian flagKorean flagChinese (Simplified) flagChinese (Traditional) flagPortuguese flagGerman flag
French flagSpanish flagJapanese flagArabic flagRussian flagGreek flagDutch flag
Bulgarian flagCzech flagCroatian flagDanish flagFinnish flagHindi flagPolish flag
Romanian flagSwedish flagNorwegian flagCatalan flagFilipino flagHebrew flagIndonesian flag
Latvian flagLithuanian flagSerbian flagSlovak flagSlovenian flagUkrainian flagVietnamese flag
Albanian flagEstonian flagGalician flagMaltese flagThai flagTurkish flagHungarian flag
Belarus flagIrish flagIcelandic flagMacedonian flagMalay flagPersian flag 
Unit Supply

Visit Stores we support

My first hand, brick & mortar location for cigars, and a regular hang out for myself Romeo's Uptown Pipe & Cigar

CI My regular internet source for cigars

Cafe DuMonde My other favorite coffee, coffee with chicory!

Adagio Tea An Excellent Tea selection

Berry Bros & Rudd is one of the only places I can get my treasured Green Spot Irish whiskey shipped to the US. Fair warning, shipping is not cheap.

Ranger Coffee is my choice for high octane coffee. It'll put hair on your chest, and probably other places your not used to or expecting to have it!

The ®Evil Cafe Press Store- Your one stop shop for all things Evil!

Disclaimer: I do not make a dime on any of these links except the ®Evil Cafe Press Store. The rest of these links are simply here for your experimentation of things I often mention and enjoy myself.

Nomenclature
Incoming Communication
Link Me!
®Evil
Authorized Personel Only