Hey y'all:
It's been exciting and just a bit disgusting listening the last two afternoons
to the Partlow Gang on Finebaum
defending the actions of three of Shula's bullet-proof-football player-gangstuh-to-the-bone
thugs Satiddee morning at the Legacy on the Strip. http://www.myspace.com/thelegacyonthestrip
Got a good story for the Confessions of a Section 8 Maintenance Man.
Pulled over to the curb on Short 25th Avenue East off of Paper Mill Road this afternoon, parked & hopped out of the Exploder.
These kids were playing basketball across the street and this boy about 16 or 17 yelled, "Hey, Robert!"
"Hey man, what up?!" , I yelled back.
"Hey, you don't remember me do you?
I used to stay over at 200 41st Street 'till you wouldn't fix it up and we had to move.
Man, I left a lot ladies over on 41st."
"Nair nuttin' but a thang," I replied.
The boy balled up his fists and started strutting toward me yelling, "What you mean 'nuttin' but a thang'."
I walked straight toward him with my head out in front of me & my fists clenched,
making two steps for his every one yelling,
"IT BEEZE
DAT WAYZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
SOMETIME!"
He stopped dead in his tracks so I stopped too.
I looked him straight in the eye and just nodded my head up & down.
He stood frozen not saying a thing.
I smiled at him & went on about my business.
He didn't say anything else.
He could of had a gun and it wouldn't have mattered to me until he stuck the barrel in my face & even then I'd a been plotting how to take it away from him before OR AFTER
he tried to shoot me.
That boy came within the diameter of a red hair of shedding his own blood on the hot pavement of Short 25 Avenue East this afternoon.
That's how quick the tables can turn in the ghetto and
that's how quickly you have to react to disrespect.
This post has two more great stories.
Check 'em out plus see how the myspace sites are growing.
My personal page http://myspace.com/robertoreg
now has almost 800 friends and is approaching 4000 views.
The Coach Bryant page http://myspace.com/robertoreg
is pushing 10,000 views we hope to have over 3000 friends when it gets time
to give the song the BIG PUSH this fall as we approach the 25th anniversary of Coach's last season.
Please take a few and let me hear from ya!
Best,
rr http://cottonkingdom.blogspot.com
Hank
HERNIATED HANK HENRY
by Buddy Henry
January of 99,myself and a few friends were planting pines on a
piece of property that Phillip Newman had recently purchased.
I received a cell call from my wife, Becky.
BECKY REGISTER HENRY
She said "Cha-ching!"
Our female Boykin Spaniel was in the process of delivering a litter
of pups.
It was exciting to know that,
first,we were going to have some new pups to raise and also
we knew they would be marketable.The pups were fun to raise,but,
at six weeks of age we were going to have to sell the pups
which we were growing attached to.
There were plenty of buyers who quickly picked out a
puppy,except one,
and this will be what the rest of this story will be
about.
Hank,actually his registered name is "Herniated Hank Henry" was the
puppy everyone rejected because he had a small umbilical hernia.
Becky and I would point this out to everyone,so this was probably
the reason he was rejected.
But except for this small hernia,Hank would turn out to
be exceptional in every way.
When it was time to feed the pups after they were about four weeks
old,Hank would be the first to meet you at the gate.
He was just plain excited to see you.
We dubbed him a "Bonkin" because he would be bouncing
up and down when you came to the pups pen.
At the time I thought it was because he wanted to be the first
to eat,in retrospect I know it was
because he wanted to show his love.
All the pups got sold,except Hank.
We got a call from a prospective buyer.
They were ready to buy Hank.
Becky looked at me and said,
"Hank
ain't for sale!!!"
When Hank was nine weeks old, he and I walked out to the end of the
driveway to get the newspaper.
That had been Abby's job,Hank's Mama, up
until that morning.
I put the newspaper in his mouth and ran back to the
house with Hank right behind me.
After that morning all I had to do was
open the door and say ,"Hank,Fetch it up!"
For the next Eight years, Hank
acted like it was as exciting to him as it was for me to see him
retrieve the paper.
The paper was just the beginning of Hanks retrieving ability.
When Hank was nine months old I took him to his first dove hunt.
I had never fired a gun around Hank.
I was a little scared to shoot because his mom was
"gun-shy".
The birds started coming in.
With Hank by my side, I fired my
gun and luckily downed a bird.
I ran to the bird with Hank right beside
me and was saying "Hank, fetch it up!".
I put the bird in Hanks mouth and
ran back to my shooting blind with Hank beside me.
I gave him a lot of praise,poured some water in my hand
and let him drink from my hand.
That first day shooting I shot nine birds
and except for the first bird that
I put in his mouth he picked up the rest of the birds
and would hurry
back to the blind and graciously accept my praise.
As the years continued Hank became an excellent retriever.
We hunted together for the next eight years.
When in the dove field,Hank would sit
right beside me and help me watch the sky for birds.
He would be so
excited he would wimper when I was missing birds,almost showing
disappointment in me for missing.
I would talk to him and it seemed as if
he understood me.
I consider a couple of times in the field as "great family
moments"in my life.
My two daughters got to go hunting with Hank.
Leslie & Buddy- two nurse anesthetists in the same family!
My oldest daughter, Leslie, took her video camera on one shoot.
She shot some footage of Hank in the "field".
His enthusiasm is very evident on film.
Buddy & Lana
My youngest daughter,Lana (who at the age of sixteen had never shot
a gun) and I were invited to my neighbors just a few hours
before the shoot.Lana and I went out in the yard and I showed
her how to shoot a 20 gauge shotgun.
We went to the hunt and Lana shot many times.
Hank was very patient with her.Lana finally shot down a bird.
I don't know who was
happier,
Lana,Hank or Me!!!.
Lana shot down two birds that day.
Like I
said,"A great family moment".
Even though retrieving was my intent for
having a dog, a Boykin Spaniel,
retrieving was
a minor part of the
happiness Hank brought to our family.
He was truly a "companion".
His loyalty to Becky,my children and I is something that is
difficult to
describe.
You would have to own,or maybe I should say, be blessed to have
an animal such as Hank,to understand one's feelings toward a family
pet.
Hank was "Homeschooled".
He was never a problem student.
His only
limitation were my limits to teach.
I could say,"Truck," and over the
tailgate he would go.
He would stay in the truck until I said "Out.".
I could say "Kennel" and point to the direction I wanted him to go
and he would "kennel-up".
"Sit","Stay",anything I asked ,he was happy to
abide.
Water.He loved it.He would swim for pleasure like an eight year
old child.
Time to relax,Hank would jump up on the front porch swing with
me and lay his soft,beautiful head on me and nap while I napped.
Until Hank, I didn't really understand the bond one could have with
an animal.
Now I understand when people say,"like a member of the family."
We had Hank for eight years.
Today, due to a sudden illness,liver and kidney
failure, we had to"put him down".
Becky and I were with him as the young
veterinarian administered a euthinizing dose of a barbiturate.
We were able to pet him as he went out.
Pain,sorrow,memories streamed through our
minds.
I'll never say as I used to,"He's 'just a dog'."
He was much more.
Becky and I have a small piece of property with an artesian spring
on it.We spend time on the property nearly everyday.
When I would open the
tailgate to my truck Hank would sit until I said"Out."
Most of the time
he would run to the spring for a "dip".
We buried Hank down by the spring
today,we poured some "spring water" on him and covered him with
earth.
If you ever need someone to define "Love" ask me about
"Happy Herniated
Hank Henry".
MY LAST DAY AT THE BEACH
I woke up Sunday morning July 8 a little hurt from my Sattiddee nite at the Pelican Pub but a cup of coffee and a walk out on the deck to look at the Gulf restored my strength.
Super weather with a constant breeze and an immaculate clear blue Alabama sky.
It promised to be a terrific day at the beach.
Jumped in the Exploder and headed back north across the bridge to the mainland to see Greg & Collette in Coden.
TALKIN' 'BOUT THE WHEELS OF PROGRESS TURNING IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION!
Some church groups from up north had come down and for the first time since August of '05, the nasty ass wallboard had been torn down revealing the beaded board walls of the old Wintzell house at the foot of the bridge on Bayou Coden.
These church folks sure made me appreciate the magnificence of our Christian faith.
I left Greg & Collette's to perform one of my many coastal traditions.
I like to drive out to the bait shop at the mouth of Bayou La Batre and get some lunch. Sometimes they sell tamales. Sometimes they got crawfish. Crawfish had gone out of season back in June so that Sunday they had hot dogs.
I fixed me two hot dogs and headed over to the boat landing at the opening of the bayou to eat my lunch. Saw two smaller shrimp boats leave the bayou flying Confederate flags.
I returned to the island on the back roads. I took Shellbank Road over to Coden then I took Coden Belt Road and after crossing Fowl River, I went out to the cord grass marsh of Delta Port.
Since I was on Mon Luis Island, I went ahead and took the Heron Bay Loop Road over to Alabama Port.
I cut Archie's grass when I got back to the duplex & then I prepared for my walk to the shore.
I brought a couple of beers so when I got to the top of the primary dune, I found an old log and sat down to look at the water and get a little stoned.
Sitting there I thought about an old retired Coast Guard enlisted man I met on Dauphin Island in the summer of '77.
I had found this old salt's sitting spot before I ever met him. I found this big log I liked to sit on down by the Audubon Preserve west of the Sea Lab. I noticed that the ground was covered with cigarette butts and I found out later that that was the place where The Old Salt watched the sun come up each morning.
The Old Salt was a nice old guy but he was one of the most miserable people I'd ever met.
He'd spent most of his career fishing corpses out of the Atlantic off New York City & New Jersey so he really had a warped view of life.
He always told me, "Never have kids. All they'll do is break your heart."
Well the Old Salt told me a story about seeing a Black Skimmer break it's neck while feeding and I flashed on that story while watching Asian families play in the Gulf.
Right about that time a black skimmer flew down the berm.
WHEW!
That memory from the summer of '77 was a foreshadowing of the "once in a lifetime" experiences I'd have on Dauphin Island thirty years later in the summer of '07.
I walked way down the beach. I got buzzed by a guy and a girl on an ultra-light airplane and watched them land on the beach of the sandbar which now extends from the end of the Dauphin Island fishing pier all the way to the Sand Island Lighthouse.
As I walked off the beach toward the path through dunes which led to the duplex I saw a couple sitting on the sand & the guy had a tattoo in the shape of an Eagle covered by the St. Andrews Cross of the Confederate flag.
"Nice tattoo," I told him.
"THANKS!" he replied.
I got back to the duplex, showered and headed for the pub.
Before going to Happy Hour, I decided to drive to the end of the Bienville on the west end of the island.
They've built a berm up to protect the houses and they've planted sea oats.
Some people have installed sand fences & planted more sea oats which I thought was kewl.
Saw one of the strangest things driving out to the west end:
six fish crows sitting on a powerline together. I don't think I've ever seen that many crows perched on a power line together.
The drought had taken the brown out of the water so both the Gulf and the Sound were about as blue & green as I've ever seen them.
Heading back east I admired all the colorful roofs which had replaced the ones destroyed by Katrina.
Lots of bright colored tin: blue, crimson, rust, green & turquoise.
Before going to the pub I decided to check out the airport to see whether that couple in the ultra-light had landed.
There's a nice cord grass slough you drive by before you get to the Dauphin Island Airport.
A big blue heron was feeding so when I got to the parking lot I turned around, drove back to the slough and pulled over on the shoulder to watch the heron.
That's when the black skimmer showed up &
BOY HOWDY!!!!
Did he not ever put on a show for me!!!!
image courtesy of http://search.abaa.org/dbp2/books1700_10.html
to be continued...
