The Animals Will Teach Us

 For most all of my adult life, I have invested my life in people.  People such as my family, the many families I had the honor to serve during difficult times and the people who looked for me for leadership in the corporate world.

I am confident I learned much more from the people I invested in than they learned from me.

But since I am six months into retirement, things have changed.  Drastically changed.  I now spend my days investing my life in a …dog.   

Twenty-four hours a day and seven days a week type of investing. 

Even in retirement, I am still learning.

I am reminded of a verse in Job chapter 12.   The first part of verse 7 says, “But ask the animals and they will teach you.”

Yep. They will do that - if you just ask and pay attention.

We’ve had a dog almost my entire married life.  Some were smarter than others.  There was a difference with the other dogs though. I was working. I was in and out but mostly out.  The dogs of the past were glad to see me when I came home and I patted them on the head and even spent time with them when I could.

I even shed a tear or two when each of them eventually crossed the rainbow bridge.  You get attached.  I have always loved dogs.

Our last dog was a miniature Schnauzer named Lucy.  We had her about fourteen years before she crossed the rainbow bridge.  It was difficult. She had been gone for over a year before we started discussing the idea of getting another dog.  We knew a dog would tie us down with retirement on the horizon.  When you have a dog, you just cannot pick up and leave for a few days on the spur of the moment.   Arrangements have to be made for the dog.  That is a separate spur of the moment trip that can cost almost as much as the trip the humans are planning.

Conee & Kathy Day 1

During a weak moment in the middle of a world-wide pandemic, we decided to get another dog.  We were stuck at home anyway.  We also blame our weak moment on our grand dog, Mister Elwood.  He is a Golden Doodle and we kept him every now and then for our kids.  Mister Elwood is very large and lovable.   We wanted the lovable but figured we did not need the large at our stage in life.  

We adopted our little black Golden Doodle puppy on September 2, 2020.   Since we knew she would be spending lots of time at Lake Oconee, we named her Conee.  She was eight weeks old.

She was cute but it was not fun at first.   We would take turns taking her out every few hours (when we would have been sleeping) to make sure she learned where to go to the bathroom.  The yelping during the night also did not help us with our sleep

But we were determined to have an obedient dog.  We worked with her and played with her.  Eventually we even sent her to a professional trainer so she would learn to be obedient and polite.

She certainly learned stuff there that has been very helpful.   For example, Conee waits at the door when we open it until we give her permission to go out the door.  The other day Kathy had made several trips to the car as we were getting ready to leave for the lake.   Although the car was in the garage, I saw Conee follow her out the door without Kathy noticing her.  All I had to say was, “Conee, get back inside.”  She immediately went back inside and stood at the open door until I told her she could go out.

Very cool doggie.  

Conee will sit on command pretty much anytime and will come on command when she is outside and she will while inside if she decides she wants to come.  She for sure knows what it means. 

Conee will stop chewing on a cardboard box too but only after we remove the box.  And she will stop ripping up a paper towel or a napkin - but only after we pick tip all the torn pieces and thrown them in the trash. 

She will also stop excitedly jumping on a guest who walks in the door when we physically hold her and keep her from doing it.   She sure doesn’t stop by command although I am confident she knows what “stop” means.

But when it is just us - which is most of the time - Conee is very laid back and relaxed. Except for those times when she gets the zoomies.  We pretty much just let her zoom when that hits her.

Conee loves to sit on the sofa with Kathy and put her head in her lap or jump in my chair with me and stand on my chest.

But I have learned when you are with a dog all day every day, they learn much more than they teach at doggie schools.  Conee listens to every word we say to each other and the way we say it.  When we say we are going to the store, she perks up and waits to see if she is getting to go with us.  If we say, “we’ll be back in a little while,” she will immediately go to another room.  It is almost as if she doesn’t want to see us walk out the door.  If we ask her if she wants to go with us or if she wants to go for a ride, she immediately goes to the door wagging her tail.

She knows the difference between the front door and back door.  If we ask her if she wants to go out back, she quickly heads to the back door.  If we ask her if she wants to go for a walk, she happily heads to the front door.

If she has to go to the bathroom, she will walk up to one of us and stare it us.  If one of us doesn’t pay attention, she will go to the other.  If neither of us pay attention, she will got back to the first one, stare and bark. 

Conee knows when we say we are going “home” or to the “lake.”  She goes to the door and knows it will take a while so she lies down in the seat when we get in the car for the trip.   If we are going to the store, she sits on the console between us. 

Conee never hangs out in a room neither of us are in.   She is always with us if we are together and with one of us if we are in different rooms.

She sleeps in our bedroom.  If we mention that we are ready to go to bed, she immediately goes in the bedroom and jumps on the bed to watch us get ready for bed.  She absolutely loves bedtime.  If Kathy goes to bed before me, she will stay with her until she gets in the bed and then come find me and look at me as if to say, “Are you going to bed or not?”

When we get in the bed, as long as the light is on, Conee will chew on a bone or a toy.  When the lights go off,  she puts all that aside and goes to sleep.  Conee starts out at night on the bed.  At some point she will sleep on the floor.  But every morning she is back on the bed. She goes back and forth.  She never ever leaves the bedroom.   As long as it is dark, she leaves us alone.  When the sun comes up, she begins to move in, taking turns with each of us.  She will lay her head on our shoulder and gently nudge her nose into our neck.   She never barks to wake us up but licks us gently on the arm or the neck. 

We take turns taking her out for her morning walk.  She knows that and it seems like a game to her to figure out who is going with her for the early morning walk.

We take longer walks during the day.  At the lake, we take the same path every day which takes about 40 minutes.   She knows exactly where she is every step of the way.  When we are getting close to the house on our return, she crosses the road at the same exact spot every time (without our lead) knowing that is the way we go home.   

If I am walking her at the lake and Kathy is outside and calls for her, I let her off the leash and she runs as fast as she can run to Kathy.  That also works the same if Kathy is walking her and she lets her go to come to me.  Interestingly, she never runs straight to either of us.  She runs between the two parked vehicles because that is the path we walk when she is on the leash. 

I have learned that dogs are smarter than we think they are.  When you spend time with them, they pick up on everything.  The learning is natural too.  It is not something one has to be crammed down their throats.

When old folks like us learn from dogs, the learning is just as natural.

For instance, Conee has taught us to get excited when guests show up at the door.  When you have been around lots of people all your life and now you are not, it is not a good thing to always be isolated. We may not jump up and down on you like Conee does, but it can be pretty exciting for us when you show up.

Conee at Lake Oconee

Basic commands are important in retirement.  When Kathy says “Come,” I listen carefully.  And If I want to, I get up and head her way - if I am inside.   Just like Conee.

Old folks do not need to lie in bed half the morning. Conee has taught us to get up when the sun comes up even though we do not have anywhere to be. That makes our days longer and better.  It also makes the morning coffee tastier. 

Retired folks should walk and walk some more. Conee loves to walk so we have to walk.  If Conee was not around, I am afraid we would not be doing nearly as much walking.  She is teaching us to live longer.

Old folks need a routine - even if it is a relaxed one.  If it is walking around the same time every day or walking the same path or getting up at the same time,  I believe a routine is good for the elderly mind.

Sometimes putting a head in a lap is a nice way to fall asleep if you are lucky.   I would not recommend standing on a chest though.

The elderly should not stay cooped up in the house all the time.  As it is for Conee, the back porch or even the backyard is a nice reprieve.  Sometimes a random joyride is just what the doctor ordered.

Conee has taught us that old folks in the bedroom should go to sleep when the lights go off.  Frolicking in darkness is for younger folks.   If you are determined to frolic, be like Conee and play when the lights are on.   ou need plenty of light to find what you think you are looking for anyway.

Yep, the animals will teach you - even in retirement.

There Was Once a Team

 "There Was Once a Team" by Bunny Fuller Harris with Katie Harris Dodrill.

This book is a MUST READ

Kathy and I took a little road trip to the Crowell Community in Taylor County Sunday afternoon. I haven’t been in that area in a long time but having been in the funeral business for many years, I have memories at almost every house we passed.

It is home to me.

Our destination was the home and farmhouse of Mark and Bunny Harris. Bunny will formally release her book, “There Was Once a Team” on July 10th at the Crowell Community House. It is first-hand account of a high school basketball team that won 132 consecutive games.

Can you even imagine what it takes to win 132 games without a loss?

When I saw the date of the release, my heart sank because we will be on vacation that day. I texted Bunny and ordered a few books and apologized that we could not be there that day. She contacted me the next day and said the books were in and we could get our books before leaving for the beach. We jumped on that and headed to Crowell the next day.

Sitting in the den of their home with that family is something everyone who knows them should do at least once. Fortunately their daughter Katie was also there along with her husband Ryan, their little girl, Sarah Grace. and Mark’s brother, Dan.

Simply stated, the Harris family is a brilliant bunch - not only intellectually but in every facet of their lives. I told Kathy when we left I could sit and talk to that family all day.

Salt of the earth folks, they are.

Katie, by the way, co-wrote the book with her mother. I am glad she did because, knowing Bunny, she would have left out personal accolades about herself if Katie did not get involved. Even so, I still think she left out much more that could be said about herself. 

Bunny’s book and her story is personal to me. Bunny and I started school in the first grade together at Reynolds Elementary School in the fall of 1960. That class stayed together until we graduated in the eighth grade. Many of us went our separate ways to different high schools but we never stopped being friends.

Bunny mentions in the book getting introduced to the game of basketball on the playgrounds of Reynolds Elementary School. I was there. When she says in the book that she and Sandra Arnold were the first ones chosen on the playground, she is absolutely one hundred percent accurate.

Those girls could play. Even as kids.

After they led our junior high school girl’s team to an undefeated season in 1968, I knew big things were ahead for this duo. Although I went on to play basketball in another county, I can tell you I kept up with Bunny, Sandra and the Taylor County Lady Vikings. I read the box scores after every game for the next four years and the articles written about them… and just smiled.

The book is even more personal than that. My future wife, a year behind us in school, also played on that incredible team. We started dating in the spring of 1971. Kathy would begin her junior year that next fall. Kathy played all four of her high school years with the Lady Vikings and was an integral part of the team.

Although I was up to my eyeballs in playing basketball myself, I attended every Lady Viking game when I was not playing during my senior year. (Kathy’s junior year). On a few occasions, when Kathy’s dad was sick, I even drove some of the players to away games in my wife’s family station wagon.

During that year, I got a first hand perspective of not only the incredible players on that team but the coach who drove their success.

Bunny’s book is beyond excellent. I knew it would be because of the mother - daughter combo who wrote it.

This book is for several audiences.

If you live in Taylor County or have ever lived there, you will get to read the behind the scenes stories of your friends who made up that team. Bunny “names names” and gives much credit to all her teammates. There are some stories that will make you laugh. Out loud.

If you are a basketball person, you will read details as to what it takes to play the game at the highest level of success from the perspective of one of the best female high school basketball players to ever play in the state of Georgia. Bunny, who later was named the Scholar Athlete of the Year at the University of Georgia in 1976, is very humble in her account. She averaged 22 points per game in her high school career but rarely played more than three quarters because the team was winning by such large margins.

If you are from Houston County GA (my current residence,) you will want to read also. The Perry Lady Panthers ended the incredible streak in one of the biggest nights in basketball history in Perry and a story that immediately hit the national newspaper wires. Later the same year, Warner Robins High School also defeated them. You will see local Houston County names you will recognize and get insight from the girls Houston County caused to finally know what it felt like to lose a basketball game.

If you are thinking about being a coach, you will learn details of what it takes from one of the greatest high school coaches who ever lived and one who is a member of the Georgia Sports Hall of Fame. Norman Carter accumulated a record of 350 wins and 32 losses in a span of 12 years. That is a 91% winning percentage, in case your calculator is not handy.

You will also discover the Hall of Fame coach personally taped his star players ankles before every game.

Above all, if you are a person who is in a leadership position or aspiring to be in one, this book is for you.

It is a book about building a team where every part is just as important as the stars who lead it and about the unity that always results in that model.

It is a book about overcoming outside difficult circumstances beyond your control. Enter county school consolidation, integration and negotiating and leveraging the hard feelings and chaos to result in incredible success.

It is a book about being willing to lose to win. In this case, the coach continued to schedule games against much larger schools in spite of the winning streak - when he did not have to.

It is a book about making sure the team you lead never loses focus on the basic fundamentals and how everything else depends and builds off of that.

It is a book about relentless and consistent no-nonsense hard work and how to balance hard nose leadership with care and concern for those who look to your for leadership.

It is a book about how to communicate effectively by eye to eye contact to get complete buy-in on the task at hand. Nothing compares to eye to eye contact in communicating and leading.

It is a book about the art of giving someone the gift of significance and how long term relationships are formed and nurtured.

It is a book about being prepared for the tough times in life (and they will come) and how to stay calm when the storm is raging.

It is a book about never quitting even though the odds of winning keep getting longer and harder.

It is a book about maintaining balance in life that will serve you many years after you leave the arena.

It is a book about experiencing the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat and handling loss with the same class in which you win.

“There Was Once a Team” is a story that unfolded in front of small middle Georgia community over five decades ago. Many of the fanatical adults who watched and followed this team all over Georgia are long gone now.

But the lessons we learn from this team and what they accomplished are more relevant today than ever.

Be sure to get your copy of “There Was Once a Team.” If you are local, you SHOULD attend the Big Release at the Crowell Community Center on July 10 from 1-3PM. You can get your books autographed by the authors and the coach and other players who will be in attendance. Katie will be reading excerpts from the book.

You can also email Bunny at bunnyharris35@gmail.com. She accepts Venmo, PayPal and an old fashioned check.

Books are $20 plus shipping if you order in advance, After the release, the price will increase.

The Time

The time when I was a kid and ordered a nudist colony magazine including plenty of pictures that said it would come in a brown paper wrapped package. The lady postmaster and family friend personally delivered the magazine to my mother.  They were both sitting in the living room with the magazine waiting on me when I got home from school.

The time when I was a kid and decided to drive my mama’s new Oldsmobile Vista station wagon around our driveway with my eyes closed.  I ran into the side of our house.  I was hoping nobody would see the damage to the car… or the house.  They did see both.  There was discipline involved.

The time I was invited to a birthday party where the group would be on a live kids TV show in Columbus, GA.   During the first part of the show we were told to line up and we would each pass by Cap O Hap who had the microphone and to introduce ourselves.  All the parents were gathered around their TV’s with their antennas pointing to Columbus to see their kids.  It was a big deal.   My nickname was Lucy and my friend’s nickname was Woochie.  Although all the kids were giving their real names to the Cap, my friend and I agreed to use our nicknames.  He went first.   “My name is Whoochie Byrd from Reynolds, GA.”  I followed but chickened out.  “My name is Bruce Goddard from Reynolds, GA. 

Speaking of that friend, the time in the third grade we realized we had the same girlfriend.  It was heartbreaking at first and could have ruined a good friendship.  But when her birthday came around we came up with a good plan.  We went in together and bought a small red suitcase (or training case it may have been called).  We signed the card.  “We love you!  Woochie and Lucy. 

The time my older brother and his friend had started a club and wanted to know if I wanted to join.  For the initiation, I had to jump out of the bedroom window buck naked and run around the house.   Of course, I wanted to join.   I did as instructed.  When I ran around the house and got back to the bedroom, they had closed the window and both were nowhere to be found.   I had to go to the front door and ring the doorbell to get back in the house.  I never asked how Mama explained that to her Bible Study group who was meeting in the living room.

The time my grandfather called me to his house to change his broken toilet seat.  He told me the new seat was in his utility house in the back yard.  I took the seat off and went to the backyard to get the new one.  The new one turned out to be the one he took off the same toilet about 15 years earlier.  He saw no reason to spend the money to purchase a new seat.

The time my grandfather called my brother and me back to his office.  He said he wanted to give us a Christmas present.  We were excited as he had never done that before.  He pulled out his very large checkbook.  He wrote a check to me for $10 and wrote a check to my brother for $7.50.   He knew I was planning to come back one day to take over the family business and my brother had no such intentions.

The time I put a perfectly placed golf tee on the pew in front of me at the Reynolds UMC on a Sunday morning when everybody was standing and singing “When We All Get to Heaven.”   When my friend sat on the tee after the song, he immediately jumped up and yelled.  Some thought he had caught the spirit.  My mother was not one of those.  She came down out of the choir loft and escorted me to the front row in front of God and all the congregation.

The time the preacher stopped in the middle of the sermon and said, “If the boys on the 3^rd row will stop talking, I will continue the sermon.”

The time when I was 9 years old and my older sister was graduating from high school. I think it may have been at the Baccalaureate Service.  I also think it was my first experience with IBS (there would be many more).  My mama had me dressed in a coat and tie.  Somewhere during the ceremony, I completely dirtied my pants.  If I had been older, I would have excused myself or called the fire department for help.  But in my youth, I sat there in it.  After the ceremony, I was standing next to my sister in some sort of receiving line.  I never said a word.  But the expressions on faces as they shook my sister's hand or hugged her neck spoke volumes.

The time my future wife and two of her friends were singing a trio as part of a service to dedicate a prayer room at the Baptist church. The song they were attempting to sing was, “The Savior is Waiting.”  Someone in the trio had a growl of the stomach as they began to sing.  The girls got tickled and had to stop singing.  They attempted about three re-starts but laughter would prevail.  They finally sat down and the pianist played the song… alone.  I am not sure about the savior but my wife’s mother was waiting when she came out of the church building.

The time I was bullied in school and my dad gave me some sage advice very much against my mama’s wishes.   “Tomorrow hit him as hard as you can with your fist right between his eyes.”  I took my daddy’s advice and he never bullied me again. 

The time a few of my friends and I peed on the gas space heater in the visitors dressing room before a junior high basketball game.  Our principle and coach (same person) who I had never heard say a bad word in my life, came in our dressing room and loudly asked (and I quote), “Who is the smart ass that pissed on the heater?”

The time when my grandfather died at 97 years old.  His wife called me when she found him in his chair.   When I got there, I could not help but notice that days edition of  Macon Telegraph in his hands.  It was  carefully folded to the obituary page.  I mentioned that if he had waited one more day, he could have read his own.  

The time my grandmother died and my wife and I took her casketed body to Fort Myers FL in our Chevy Astro van for burial. That journey is full of stories including locking her in the van with the keys inside.  We had to call a locksmith at 1AM to get the door open.  His expression when he realized we had my deceased grandmother in the van is an expression I will never forget.  I suspect he never forgot my expression either.

The time my daddy walked in the Dealer Burger Diner with a pistol in his pocket filled with blanks.  He played like he was upset because there was not enough sugar in the jar for his coffee.  He pulled out the pistol and shot a few times at the ceiling.  Everybody in the diner hit the floor.  That would not go over very well today.   In fact, I am not sure it went over very well then.

The time a couple of my friends were on the sidewalk showing off two very large strings of fish caught on a big lake about three hours from town.  Of course, daddy took a picture of the proud fishermen and their big catch.  He told them he would send the picture to the local paper.   He did not mention what he planned to use as the caption.  “Fish caught Thursday afternoon at Lawrence Cook’s pond.”   Lawrence, my dad’s lifelong friend who was not one to open his private pond up for the public, almost fainted when he saw it in the paper.

The time my daddy backed into my car three times in one day during Master’s week.  The first time was in the driveway at the funeral home in Reynolds when he was getting ready to leave for Augusta.  The second was about five minutes later when he saw me behind him at the stop sign.  He decided he forgot to tell me something. He put his car in reverse and hit the accelerator.  The third was the same evening at the house in Augusta they had rented.   I was parked behind him in the driveway. We were leaving for dinner. He slammed his car in reverse before I could start my car.  All three incidents were within a 12 hour span.  Each time he blamed it on me.

The time I put a sign on #1 Fairway during the Chicken George Golf Tournament pointing to my friend’s house that sat close to the fairway stating “Free Beer and Clean Restrooms.” They had a lot of unexpected and unwanted business.

The time when my daddy died and we were seeing him for the first time in the casket at the funeral home.  All of a sudden, we realized we had forgotten to go by Cousin Anita’s house to bring her to the funeral home with the rest of the family for the first viewing.  Anita was 96 years old,  a little large and slow moving.  I stated that I would go over to Anita’s house to get her and bring her to the funeral home.  My brother replied, “It would be easier to take Daddy over to see Anita.”

The Patient Doctor and the Patient

Some stories are worth memorializing.  This story would be one of them.   When I heard it first, I smiled. After I thought about it, I laughed.

My brother in law is a doctor.  A retired doctor but one who spent his entire career as a practicing Internist.  Not only is he a retired doctor but one of the smartest doctor’s I have ever known.  Additionally, he is probably the nicest person I have ever met.  Patience is a virtue.  He has always had plenty of it.

IF only my son’s next-door neighbor could have known the person was coming to help when he frantically asked his daughter to go next door to the neighbor’s house to get help.

My wife was babysitting grandchildren the last several days in Alpharetta while the parents were out of town.  My wife’s sister came on Friday to help.  The doctor dropped his wife off on Friday and came back on Saturday to pick her up.

While sitting in the den on Saturday morning, an obviously upset preteen girl came in asking for my son –not knowing my son was not at home.  She explained that her mom was not home and her dad was lying on the bedroom floor in excruciating pain.  He asked her to go next door to get help.

The dad thought he was getting an insurance underwriter to come to his rescue. He had no way of knowing he was summoning an experienced doctor to come to his aid.

The doctor followed the daughter next door and up some back stairs and finally in the neighbor’s bedroom.  He found the neighbor on the bedroom floor just as the daughter had described.   As the doctor was checking the unsuspecting patient, their little dog must have thought he was an intruder.  He latched on the doctor’s heel – with his teeth.  The doctor was now multi-tasking - attempting to evaluate his unsuspecting patient while their dog was in attack mode. Thankfully, the son came to the rescue and pulled the little dog off the patient but now startled doctor.

It turns out the most likely cause of the patient’s condition was severe back spasms.  Since I have experienced the same, I can related to his condition and pain.  The neighbor had already called his chiropractor while lying on the floor before the doctor arrived.

After some questions, the doctor eventually helped his patient get up and somehow got him in the backseat of the doctor’s Ford Expedition.   The doctor of course had no idea of the location of the chiropractor’s office.   Not one to use GPS for directions, the doctor relied on the patient to direct him to the office. .  As the patient was lying on the backseat, he would lift his head up every now to look out the window to tell the doctor when to turn.

After they arrived at the chiropractor’s office, the doctor sat in the waiting room while the patient received treatment.  The doctor had the patient’s personal belongings including his cell phone with him in the waiting room.  The patient’s cell phone rang a couple of times.  The doctor went back and asked the patient if he was familiar with the caller.  “Yes, that’s my wife.  Please answer when she calls back.”

The wife did call back.  She was very appreciative of the doctor’s services (although she probably did not know he was a doctor) and said she was on the way.  The patient doctor said it was not necessary.  He was there and was noticing there were plenty of magazines to read.

The patient doctor stayed in the waiting room until the patient’s treatment was completed.  He then drove the slightly improved patient back to his house.

I suppose that is how a patient doctor treats a unsuspecting patient who finds himself in a predicament.  I am not sure there are many patient doctors out there like my brother in law.

In fact, I am positive of that.

Believe it. It's True.

You never know what a day will bring.  I had no way of knowing I would spend my Friday night in an emergency room watching a medical team frantically trying to save my friend’s life while trying to give some sliver of hope to a sweet and  frantic friend who was about to all of a sudden have her life changed forever and have her title change from wife to widow. 

We bought our place in Great Waters at Lake Oconee in August 2015.  Our very friendly next door neighbors were quick to come over to introduce themselves and welcome us to the community.  Roger, from Barbados and Barbara from New York City  were certainly an unusual match.  And both from completely different cultures from each other and from Kathy and me.  I think that is why we were attracted to them.  Roger, funny as can be in his Barbados dialect,  was always carrying on foolishness and keeping us laughing.   Barbara, being a New Yorker, has spent most of the time trying to interpret what I am saying with my southern dialect and trying her best to keep Roger in line.   Which, by the way, was impossible.  As you might imagine, Roger and I hit it off in a hurry.

To make a long story short, Kathy and I have spent a ton of time with the Beale’s during the last almost four years.  They would come over at the last minute to eat dinner with us and we would do the same at their house next door.   Since they live here full time and we are in and out, they kept an eye out on our place.  Roger watched when packages were delivered and put them in the house.  We have been out to eat together no telling how many times at the last minute.   Never anything planned.  It was just, “we’re going to get something to eat - do y’all want to go?,” sort of thing.  They always said yes and were always up for wherever we were going,  There have been lots of laughs and lots of conversations.

 I think everyone that has visited us here has met Roger and Barbara.  

Roger, an avid golfer and a good one, was very active.  He walked religiously and hit over 100 golf balls a day at the practice range across the street from us.  He also delivered cars from time to time for Childre Nissan in Milledgeville. He would get a call late one afternoon and be headed to Orlando or Nashville or who knows where  at 5AM the next morning to deliver a car.   He was available if they needed him.  They seemed to need him quite often.

Roger has not been feeling well lately.  About 2 months ago, he came down with what we believe was the flu.   That was the first time I had ever seen him sick and moving slowly.  They had been planning for months to go to Barbados to visit family and friends and for Roger to play in a golf tournament in Trinidad.   With him so sick, I was wondering if they would be able to make the trip.   A couple of days before their scheduled departure and about three weeks after getting the flu,  Roger was feeling somewhat better and went out to hit balls.  He told me he swung the club only a couple of times and realized he couldn’t swing the club.  He felt like something cracked in his chest.   I figured he probably pulled a muscle after being sick and coughing so much.

In spite of all that, they left for their three week visit to Barbados. Since they had a very early flight, they stayed at an airport hotel the night before they were leaving.  He started having excruciating pain in his chest and lower back.  He sat in a chair all night in the hotel room because he hurt too badly to lie down.   They somehow made it to Barbados the next day and spent the next three weeks there. He visited doctors there and even had a massage trying to get relief.   Roger was disappointed he could not play golf but he was very happy to visit all the familiar faces in his beloved homeland.   The trip back to Atlanta turned out to be worse than their trip home.   Barbara had to get a wheelchair to get him through the airports. I can tell you Roger had never been in a wheelchair in his life.  He didn’t like it but he had no choice.

I visited Roger after they got back and before I left for a business trip earlier this week.   He was still carrying on, laughing and trying to make the most out of his situation. He still could not lie in the bed.  He was sitting on the sofa with pillows and a blanket.   He had been to a doctor here and they had taken X-Rays to try to determine what was going on but it was obvious he was struggling.  When I got back Friday afternoon (yesterday as I type this), I walked over to check on him.  He was still sitting in the same place with the same pillows and blankets.  After our normal non-serious and very light  conversation, he said the thought he was a little better.  He had gingerly walked over next door to get in the Jacuzzi a couple of days before.  He said he thought it helped and he was going to try it again in a few minutes.  

‘

Kathy had a list of things she wanted me to pick up at the grocery store, so I left shortly afterwards to do that.  While I was walking around Publix pushing my buggy, Kathy called me and told me to get back as quickly as possible because Roger had collapsed.  I left my buggy in the store and took off.  As I drove up, I saw the fire truck and the ambulance in front of the club house.  I walked up to the ambulance and saw them doing CPR on Roger.  Roger and Barbara had gone together to the Jacuzzi and spent less than fifteen minutes there.  They had a great conversation.  The last thing Roger told his wife as they were talking in the Jacuzzi was how beautiful she looked.   As they were walking back to their house which is at most a five minute walk,  he collapsed.

I have been in the “death business” my entire life.  Stories like this play out over and over. Dealing with it never gets easier.   The stories are different but in many ways they are all the same.  A human being is here one moment and the next moment he is gone and  those that are left are trying to get their breath and wondering what in the world happened.  And how to even begin to pick up the pieces.

I had to make a few very difficult calls last night.  One was to a daughter in Canada.  Another to a son in Barbados and a best friend who was like a brother.  Life changing conversations.

'We have this moment to hold in our hands and to touch as it slips through our fingers like sand.  Yesterday’s gone.  And tomorrow may never come. But we have this moment today.”  Gloria Gaither

Believe it.  

It’s true.

Memories of Roy Jones #6

The sincerest compliment that I can give Ed Goddard is that he had a wholesome effect on my life for 70 years.  Our families have long been friends – our daddies were fishing buddies together.   I remember my papa saying that Mr. E.A. Goddard (Ed’s grandfather) liked to kid him but he always ended with “I never kidded a man that I didn’t like."

There are lots of qualities that shown in Ed but his ingenuity was shown at an early age – like the first time he spent the night with me.  We were eight or ten years old and he slept at our house.   The next day when it was time for him to go, he begged and begged me to spend the night with him, which I did.  Later that night he told me that he was glad I spent the night with him because his daddy was really mad.  He said Ed had imposed on my mama by spending the night with me.  Now that I had spent the night with him and had imposed on his mama, everything was all right.

We lived to fish and spent many a night in the swamp.   One time when we were around 16, we decided to sleep in the swamp.   I had an old boat near Double Bridges where the creek gets big.  We got there that morning and because the creek had risen, the water was muddy.  We couldn’t even catch any small fish for bait.   We tried everything.  I remembered that Matthew Carson, a sharecropper on the place, had killed a rattlesnake the day before.   We found that snake, skinned it and used it for bait.   A tree had fallen in the water so we tied the hooks to the limbs on both sides of the tree.   There were so many fish striking that it looked like the tree was moving.  We spent the whole night paddling around the treetops setting hooks and had a string full of catfish.  Rattlesnake was the best bait that we ever used.

On another trip we spent the night near Grandma Jones sucker hole.  The mosquitoes normally were not too bad but that night they were about to carry us off.  We saw we weren’t going to get any sleep so we devised a plan.  At the count of three we jumped up and ran 500 yards through the swamp to Hickory Top.  We doubled back about 30 to 40 feet.   We ran over everything in our way but we figured we could leave the mosquitoes behind us.   Everything was quiet then we heard the mosquitoes fly right by us.  We thought we were safe until we realized the mosquitoes were doubling back just like we had.   We still stayed the night but I don’t think we got much sleep.

Another night on April 1 when we were around 23, we walked to the river where now there is the school bus body.   It was warm and pleasant.  We set out our hooks and then it began to turn cold.   We built a fire and tried to go to sleep but we couldn’t due to the cold.   Our feet could be warm when next to the fire but our faces would freeze.  We finally got the idea of building another fire so that our faces and feet would both be warm.   On April 1 I always see in the paper that April 1, 1940 was a record low – the night we nearly froze to death.

Once we went to Cat Lake and were planning to use the boat that was left there.  We found the boat locked by some big muscadine vines.   The vines were about three inches in diameter and very tough.   Ed said we could cut the vine with a pocket knife, which he tried to do.   He cut and cut and pulled and struggled.   I looked up and saliva had covered his chin.   He looked like a mad dog he had worked so hard, but he did get the boat out.   He had determination.

On another fishing trip we had put our hooks around Bryan Bridges.  The river was coming through the creek.   We crossed the slough – you could jump across.  We stayed too long and when we got back, the stream was ten or twelve feet wide and the slough was about waist deep.   Since we were going to spend the night in the swamp, we couldn’t wade it because we didn’t want to get our clothes wet.   Ed looked up and there was a big muscadine vine that went into the sky and was attached to a big oak limb.   Ed figured we could swing across, which we did. We felt like Tarzan.   I named that place Goddard’s Crossing.   Ed always smiled when I mentioned Goddard’s Crossing.

Ed was so proud of a pistol he received in his early 20s that he inherited from his Grandfather McCoy.   He would send me to Jamie Barrow’s to buy the bullets.  It was a fine pistol – engraved on it was “Police Special," a 38 caliber.   He would carry the pistol everywhere he went in the swamp.   He would walk up to a tree, yell “hands up” and point the pistol at the tree.

Pistol inherited from A.C McCoy

The next story is one that I felt awful about.  We were fishing down below Bryan Bridges.   The fish weren’t striking.   I came along the creek and he was standing on the bank.  I made like I was going to push him but I didn’t touch him.   Ed dodged and lost his balance and fell into the creek.   Ed was big and strong but clumsy.  He was going to scare me by reaching for the pistol but it was gone.   We spent the day diving in looking for it but we were at the deep point of the creek.  We finally gave up.   Ed said that this was the worst thing that has ever happened to us.   He had to leave for Emory so we went home.   I told Matthew Carson what had happened to us.   Matthew, a sharecropper on the farm, was a person who could do anything.  He said we would go look for it the next day.  When I met him the following day he was dragging a piece of 1/4 inch pipe with a pitch fork attached with the tines bent like a rake.   He stuck it into the water and about the second pull he made contact.   I dove in and got it.   I then went to the depot and sent a telegram.  It said “found pistol."   Mrs. Hodges asked if that was all I wanted to put in the telegram.   I replied that it was enough.  (Update: Grandpa McCoy’s pistol is in possession of my brother George. Photo is posted here – Bruce Goddard).

The carp story is one of my favorites.   Miss Lucy, John, Lydia, Ed and I were fishing at Clear Lake.  We could drive to Twenty Eight break, which is way in the swamp.  We walked about a mile from there to Clear Lake.  We weren’t catching much and I told Ed that I had found another lake while duck hunting that I didn’t know existed.  He and I went there with our reels.   We got there and the lake had almost dried up.  It was awful looking.   Everything had died for lack of oxygen except for three carp.   They would swim and come up for air, then go back under.  Ed said we ought to catch them.   We tried our reels, but the hooks wouldn’t penetrate the fish they were so tough.  We decided to try a different approach.  We found some dead pine limbs to use as clubs.  When the carp would come up for air, we would club them.   The three carp we got were tremendous in size.  They looked really good when we cleaned them up in a levy pit.   We took them back to Clear Lake and as soon as Miss Lucy saw them, she said that we didn’t catch them – we had been mudding and those fish weren’t fit to eat.   Ed said he could sell them for 50 cents apiece.  She said, “You’ll kill somebody too.”   We carried them back to the car, which was itself a big undertaking.  Miss Lucy made her final appeal to leave the fish but we put them in the trunk and took them to Jake Prager’s store and sold them.  Two or three days later in the afternoon the phone rang.   It was Ed.  He said, “I know you’re on a party line; do you think anybody is listening?  I just found out that Jake Prager is sick."  I said, “Ed, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”   He said, “I think that’s the right way to go.   I don’t even remember calling you.  Goodbye.”   Both of us were very relieved when Jake Prager opened his store a week later.

…to be continued.

Recordings of Roy Jones. Transcribed by his daughter, Harriet Jones Geesey.

Memories of Roy Jones #5

Back in the late 1920's and early 1930's the crowd from Reynolds and Butler got together and decided they wanted to go Mammoth Cave in Virginia.   I don’t know why they picked that site but it was a popular attraction.   They decided to pay Mr. Hoke’s way to provide the entertainment.   They rented an old school bus.   Thelmon Jarrell, a very honorable person, reported that the first night they spent the night in Roswell, Georgia.   A few wanted to take a drink even though it was Prohibition.   They found a source and the two who went for it was Mr. Earl Marshall and Mr. Hoke.   They went to the man’s still and he was selling five gallons.   Mr. Marshall wore a glove over his left hand that I believe was stepped on when he was a boy.   Mr. Hoke said that a moonshiner shot it off at the last still we raided.   The man tore out through the woods.   They brought back the five gallons without paying for it.

Mr. Thelmon told another story that when they got to Petersburg, Virginia, Mr. Hoke decided he needed a new pair of shoes.   They went into a nice, big store and a young man waited on him.   Mr. Hoke said he wanted a new pair of shoes and the man asked him what size.   Mr. Hoke said “Don’t ask me my size with as many pairs of shoes that I have bought here.”  The man determined the size and everything the salesman said Mr. Hoke would scream familiarity with the store.  The salesman must not have been with the store very long and was sure Mr. Hoke was a regular customer.   After picking out the shoes the salesman asked how he wanted to pay for it.  Mr. Hoke replied to charge it to my account like you always do.   Yes sir was the reply.   I’m sure they had a meeting at the back of the store to see who to the charge the shoes to.

They continued to Mammoth Cave with a guide leading them.   Mr. Hoke started talking louder and louder.  His stories were more interesting than the guide’s and people started following Mr. Hoke around.

 

I saw Mr. Hoke one Saturday afternoon.  He was auctioning off the estate and mules of Mr. Wes who had passed away.   It was a big mule estate and Mr. Wes had been a big mule dealer.   Mr. Hoke was making a pretty good spiel like he knew all of the mules.   When it got to the bidding, he would point to the section that I was in.   I don’t think anybody around where I was sitting was bidding – I think he was getting a man to bid against himself.

Mr. Hoke could tell a story and you could just see it.   It could’ve happened or might not have happened – you just didn’t know.   He told me he went to the post office one morning and saw Dr. Fickling, the dentist.  Dr. Fickling said that his car wouldn’t start that morning and asked  about taking Mr. Hoke’s truck to push him off.  We rode down there and Dr. Fickling had a Model A with two seats and a rumble seat.   We went to push him off and I put the car onto the highway going to Oglethorpe.   I was in the truck behind him and hadn’t pushed him far before we couldn’t keep up.  He started waving for me to quit pushing – he was going pretty good.  We got across the creek and I couldn’t keep up with him.   I lost him at the hill by the James Rick’s place.  His foot feed had gotten stuck and I don’t know when he realized that it was the accelerator, not me, pushing him.

I never heard about Mr. Hoke paying but one bill and that was to the Ford Motor Company.   Being a mechanic, he had to pay them.   They would give you a receipt that was exactly the same size of a check and looked like one too.   A.J. Payne, the owner, would sign it.   Mr. Hoke would pay his bill and once gave that the receipt to Mr. Willis, who didn’t have much education and who ran a fish market in Butler.   Mr. Hoke said he wanted $4.00 of fish and they were weighed.  Mr. Willis came down to him later and said “Son, you’re $4.00 short on your education.”         

 

Once he was dealing with Thurman Whatley.   Thurman said “Hoke, you bragged about sneaking out the cloak room of school one day and that the teachers never missed you.”  Hoke replied that yeah, that was him.   Thurman said the lesson that day was “Don’t sell anything to Hoke McDaniel on credit”.   You missed that lesson but I didn’t.

One of the stories that has been repeated involves the barber shop.   Before World War II the barber shop was the social scene for the men.   The only razors were straight razors.   The men would have their shaving done at the barber shop.   The razors were four to five inches long and as straight as they could be.   It would be sharpened against a belt.  The barber shop in Reynolds had three chairs.  Facing the barber chairs were a line of captain chairs with cushions.   These would always be full.   Men would come in for a shave and haircut and just sit and talk.  In the back was a shoeshine – he kept a boy there.   A door went to three or four showers that you could pay for.   The barber would furnish the washing, towel and soap.   I forget the price.   I used the one in Butler because it came in handy when you didn’t have time to go home to shower.   The barber shop stayed open until 12:00 midnight.   I bet it was a blessing for people that didn’t have running water.   A lot of homes didn’t have bathrooms back then.

One Saturday night at the barber shop in Reynolds a hobo came in.   Most people my age have seen thousands of hobos.   There would be more people between the railroad cars and in the box cars than there would be riding the passenger train.  That was during the depression.   They would get off and try to find something to eat.   I remember Mr. Flowers, whose house was close to downtown, telling me that once his mother fed over 20 hobos.

This particular hobo came in a 9:00 or 10:00 at night.   He told Mr. Jim, the barber, that he didn’t have a penny to his name but his hair is so long and he feels self-conscious about it.  Would there be any way in the world that he could get a haircut?  Mr. Jim said “I’ll cut it – do you have any clean clothes?”  The hobo replied that he had just washed his other set in a stream near Columbus.   The hobo pointed to his sack on a stick that held the clothes.  Mr. Jim told him to take a bath and put on his clean clothes.  By that time he should be caught up and give him a haircut.   After the man came out of the shower with his clean clothes, Mr. Jim asked him when he last had something to eat.  The hobo replied that he hadn’t had anything today but he ate at noon the previous day at the soup line in Columbus.  It wasn’t a few minutes when Harry Powell came in.  Harry ran the meat market and café.  It was one of the few places that had both.   The café was in the back.  He would cut the meat up front while you observed from the café.  Mr. Jim explained that the hobo hadn’t had anything to eat.   All of the Powells have a reputation of being big-hearted and Mr. Harry said there was no law that said he couldn’t open back up and let him eat all he can eat.  The man went with Harry and left his belongings.   When he returned he made a speech about how this was the finest town he had ever been in.   He came in dirty, hungry and needing a haircut.  These people cleaned him and fed him.  He felt so bad for that he had to catch a freight train and get all dirty again but he had to get to Macon.  Mr. Hoke McDaniel immediately stated that a man wasn’t going to ride in any freight cars as long as he was running the passenger trains.  He pulled out an envelope and wrote “Mr. Conductor, please pass this man as far as Macon.   Hoke McDaniel, V.P.” 

Now Hoke McDaniel was not part of any railroad that I know of but he was one of the best comedians that ever lived.   Had he lived in Hollywood, he would get awards for best writer, actor and director all in one.  The hobo made another speech about how he couldn’t believe what had happened to him in a place like Reynolds.  What the hobo didn’t know is that a few of the men in the barber shop that night had never seen a man get thrown off of a train.  They decided that it would be fun to see one tonight.   The train from Columbus to Macon didn’t come through until about 4:30 to 5:00 in the morning which would put you in Macon at daybreak.  So they sat up with the man all night.  They met the train and the hobo got on and sat by a window so he could wave goodbye.  The train started off.   The three observers waiting for the train to come to a stop, but it never did.  They thought that was the last of it.

 Mr. Falcon, who lived in Butler, was a conductor on the Central Georgia Railroad.   Someone saw him in Butler the next week and Mr. Falcon said to get the word to Hoke McDaniel that he was never to give another pass on the Central Georgia Railroad.  The conductor said that he hadn’t checked the tickets until they had gotten to the Reynolds swamp.  He couldn’t stop the train there and put the man off.  Besides he couldn’t put a man off that was crazy enough to believe that Hoke McDaniel owned the Central Georgia Railroad.

Colonel Lunsford worked for the court in Butler and was on the way to work when he saw Hoke standing by his house outside of Reynolds with tears running down his face.   Colonel Lunsford immediately stopped and asked what was wrong.   Hoke replied that he had just lost his youngest daughter.   Colonel Lunsford hopped out of his car and took Hoke by the shoulders and said that he was so sorry.  Did she die suddenly?  Hoke replied that she hadn’t died – she had just gotten on that old yellow bus and that when they do that they are gone forever.  He started crying again.  I guess he wasn’t always joking.

 

....to be continued.

 

Recordings of Roy Jones. Transcribed by his daughter , Harriet Jones Geesey.