The Drug Dealer?

Bug and Danny were  were swapping out a motor from his '79 Ford F250.  Bug's truck was his baby.  Since Danny, our older son was home on leave from the Navy and I was at work he chose this Sunday to do it.

They had the new motor hanging by a heavy chain from the limb of the huge oak tree in our front yard.  He wasn't a back yard mechanic, he was a front yard mechanic.

"Danny, look," he said and pointed at the shinny white Jaguar with New York plates coming up our driveway.  Our driveway was more for trucks than fancy cars.  He was driving very slowly.  He parked the car near the truck.

 Bug, a man of slight build, who has had cancer most of his adult life, was not afraid of anything or anyone.  Danny, on the other hand was tough looking with  muscles on top of muscles, the Navy had made him that way.  They were both wearing those bibbed denim coveralls and were all greasy.  They just looked like ol' hillbillies.

The two men in the Jag got out and walked over to the front of the truck.  They were both very large men.  The driver said, "we're from the Bronx, where's so and so," the previous renters.  He had a threatening tone.

Bug never took his eyes off those two. "Mister, we just moved here.  We don't know those people." He answered them with authority.

"They owe us a lot of money," the driver said.

"What for," Bug asked?  I don't think he was ready for the answer.

"We came all the way down here to pick up our drug money," was his smart answer.

If it's anything Bug hated more than a Northerner it was a Northerner selling drugs.  That was a fact.

"Mister, I told you before I don't know them and I would suggest you get back in that fancy car and git out of here," Bug said.

That guy got real nasty, his tone of voice threatening stated, "___ ___, you don't know who I am!"

Bug hit the ball right back in his court, just a little bit harder.  "Bud, NO, you don't know who I am."  Then he added, "I bet nobody knows you're here."

"No," he answered.

"You're back here on this farm, one way in, and nobody knows you're here.   Nobody will ever find you down here in this swamp.  I'll part that car out in less than a week.  When somebody does come looking they won't find you or that car.  Now, I'm telling you to git the hell out of here.  Take that drug business and ram it."  Of course Danny was standing behind Bug holding a large wrench.

Those men started towards their car.  Bug ran into the house returning with with his 12 gauge persuader.

The driver turned the key about the time Bug fired off a round into the air.  They took off, even though the road was only good for pickups.  They were going pretty good down the driveway and out of sight around the bend at the bottom of the hill.  BUT!

I had been working and now as usual when I hit the driveway I didn't slow down.  I was barreling around the second bend and almost ran head on into the Jaguar.   I slammed on my brakes and stopped.  They stopped also.  I could see the two men inside.  They looked like they were arguing about something.  I was figuring on them backing back to the house since the distance to the house was shorter than for me to back back out of the driveway.  So I motioned for them to back up.

That driver put that car in reverse and backed up faster than anyone I'd ever seen and I followed them back into the front yard.  I pulled around them when I got close to the tree.  About that time, Bug raised his shotgun again.

The driver slammed on his brakes, put the car in drive and flew out our driveway as Bug fired off another round into the air.

THEY NEVER CAME BACK!

The FROG

Patrick got home from work at 2:00a.m. He quickly changed into his sweats and decided to have a sandwich and some coffee.  He noticed a van sitting beside his house with the headlights on.  The van was just sitting there in the road with the motor humming.  A big question mark arose in his head.  What the heck's going on. Who would be stopped in the middle of the street?  Then he heard the doors slam. He looked out and could see three people standing there in the dark beside the van.  With that, he eased out his back door, hugging the side of his house.  He knew they couldn't see him.  He kept staring into the darkness.  He watched, taking short breaths so they wouldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest.

There, he could tell the taller person was a lady and the other two were young girls, but he couldn't see what they were doing.  He watched intently.  Then the lady moved a little and he could see it.  The largest FROG he had ever seen.  The lady was stooping down to grab it.

He crept up behind them.  They were so involved in catching the frog, they never heard Patrick. Just about the time the lady grabbed the frog, he said in the deepest tone he could muster, "DID YOU GET 'EM?"

The lady grabbed the frog, and jumped into the van.  The girls jumped into the creek beside the road, all screaming for their lives.

Patrick fell down onto  the road laughing.   Then he realized how much he had scared them. He walked to the lady's van, knocked on the window. He said with a big grin, he was sorry.  He tried not to laugh, but couldn't help himself. He apologized again.  By now she knew he didn't mean them any harm and she laughed too.

Her daughters didn't laugh, they were all wet.  They were really mad at him. 
"Well, you saved the FROG. What are you going to do with him?" he asked her.

She told him "I'm going to put him back into the creek, and finish my job.
I'm the newspaper lady. My daughters were trying to help me tonight deliver the papers, and look at them all soaked."

Patrick apologized again.  He told her all he saw was a parked van in front of his house and heard the doors open and close. He didn't know who they were.  Of course he watches for them every night when he gets home and now waves to them daily.

Trailride Chili

One of my early day trips was a 25 mile trail ride.  Unfortunately I wasn't able to ride.  I had an on the job injury.  I didn't think workman's compensation would believe I was hurt if I road on this 25 mile trail ride. I knew my body couldn't handle it either.


I decided to do the tailgate party.  My menu was a huge kettle of venison chili, saltine crackers, cheese, lots of hot coffee and pie.  Since this was the last trail ride of the year and the temperature was very cold I knew they would appreciate the hot chili.

I prepared the chili at home.  I put lots of green bell peppers, celery, onions, garlic, several cans of tomatoes and tomato sauce, 2 of those large cans of red kidney beans and about 4 pounds of ground venison.  Of course I never measure the spices.  I added lots of chili powder and just a little red pepper (just a LITTLE)!   I cooked it for several hours.  Those ingredients blended into one of my best chili's ever . I had Bug help me carry the kettle out to the truck.  He secured it so it wouldn't turn over and spill, then he gave me instructions on how to use the camp stove. He advised me to get someone to help me lift the kettle onto the burners since it was so heavy and full.

I asked a man at the trail ride to help me set up my tailgate.  He was waiting for his wife to come in on her horse and had plenty of time to help.  He was very helpful. I invited him and his wife to join us.  He declined when I told him the chili was made with venison.  I thanked him.  He hurried back to his van, got inside and turned on the motor to get warmed up.  It was so cold outside.

My friends, Joe and Dottie, a couple from my job rode their horses, Joe's cross bred, Dottie's a most beautiful Arabian and my friend Carol rode her fancy Thoroughbred.  They looked great  riding into the camp area of the trail ride.  My feelings were hurt because I couldn't ride.  Carol was first, then came Dottie, and Joe brought up the rear of our little group.  I helped them with their horses.

They were hovering around the kettle.  I ladled out a bowl of chili into a large paper bowl. I had bought a package of them at the grocery. Joe took the bowl and scooped up 2 big bites.  I told him, "Joe before you eat any more, I have to tell you I made the chili with ground venison."

He said, "Frances, I don't want to hear that, I don't eat venison." 

I assured him I used  real ground venison. I told him if he didn't like it he could eat the pie and coffee. No, he tasted it again and again and before long that bowl was gone.  He ate  4 bowls. Dottie and Carol also ate their fill. What I didn't expect was that several other people, people I didn't know invited themselves to our tailgate and ate too.  Not only did they eat, there wasn't any left to take back home. All those folks told me they were glad I wasn't riding so I could be the chuck wagon cook.  They wanted me to come back next year, and cook again.

Almost Skunked

My son Patrick gets home from work about 2:00a.m. every morning.  He parked is Ford pickup on the far side of his car port beside his prized white Harley Davidson.  He got out walked past the Harley and stopped at his back door.  He works for a trucking company as a mechanic and he always pulls his greasy work pants off at his back door.  So on this night he had dropped them down to his ankles and was about to step out of them when he heard this soft noise behind him.  He slowly turned around and there in the darkness he could still see that white stripe on this dark object moving towards him.  In his mind he wanted to scream but with his knowledge of wild animals he kept perfectly still.  The skunk was almost beside the motorcycle.

Patrick started sweating profusely. He couldn't run, his pants were down by his ankles and he knew if he took a step he'd probably trip.  Oh Dear God, he secretly prayed, what do I do.  If that skunk sprays here my bike will be,  my truck will be, and my wife will be........And I don't want to think what she will say or shout!!

He came up will all negative answers.  Then he took a gamble.  He gently whispered "SHEW!"

Before his eyes the skunk simply turned around. Oh No, he almost shouted!  But the skunk just waddled back down the drive and into the night.  Patrick was overwhelmed with joy. He quickly stepped out of his greasy work pants and rushed into his house, and he didn't slam the back door either.

Hiddenite Gem Mine, North Carolina

Back in the 1980's my Mom and I went to the Family Reunion, and stayed a few days with my Aunt Ruth in Marshville, North Carolina.  After the big meal and family get together on Saturday, we were invited to visit another of Mom' s sisters, my Aunt Cora and her husband Uncle Charlie.  Everybody should have an Uncle Charlie.  He has a shirt sleeve full of practical jokes, although this was the only one I ever experienced.

So we went to visit them.  And they took us to visit Mom's brother my Uncle Ben and his wife.  We didn't stay at Uncle Ben's because he already had house guests.  They were people he had met in California and had said if you're ever in my neighborhood, drop by for a visit.  Well, they dropped by for over three weeks.  They even finagled a way to come to the reunion, long lost relatives from California, how embarrassing to   Uncle Ben.  He was too kind to turn them away.

So Aunt Cora, Mom, Uncle Ben and Uncle Ben's Wife asked all of us including the Californians if we wanted to go to Hiddenite Gem Mine and dig for Emeralds.

I was all for it.  They were too.  But I had my thoughts about them digging that day. It seems he was recovering from a "so called" heart attack.  His wife wasn't a driver, so how did they get from California to North Carolina driving.  He was recovering from a heart attack!  Maybe that's why they seemed to just move in with Uncle Ben.

Anyway we all went to the Mine.  The Californians and I were the only ones to dig. The rest of them went to Aunt Cora's house.  They just left us there, digging in all that dirt. I watched the Californians shovel and dig for hours. I kept thinking about his so called heart attack recovery.  I was much younger than they were and I was having trouble digging.  I was in much better shape than they were, but they kept digging and bagging, huffing and puffing. Burlap bag after bag we filled to take to the sluice.  I managed to did out two great big rocks.  I took them up to the sluice too.  I gave the Californians all the huge burlap bags full of dirt, and I kept my two big rocks.  Bug always told me when I go somewhere to always bring back a rock, so I was taking my two rocks home.  They sluiced all their bags of dirt.  There wasn't any Gems. The manager told us this is not unusual, and that we should come back tomorrow. Not me, I was so sun burned from being out there digging all day, my mining days were over. 

They finally came back to get us and Uncle Charlie said he was taking all of us out to dinner.  So Uncle Ben, his wife and their friends went to their place to clean up and meet us at the restaurant.

They took me home and I showered and cleaned up, gosh almighty I was coated with that North Carolina red dirt.  I had sweated so bad that the dirt was crusted on me. Then I thought about gold miners, they must have been a grungy lot.

Well, we met them at the restaurant and had a wonderful meal, that Southern Cooking is marvelous.  Anyway I excused myself and went to the bathroom.

Uncle Charlie manifested his scheme.  He asked the Californians if they had any success in the dig?  Knowing all along that they didn't and knowing all along that I had my two rocks.

  They answered him with a flat No, and laughed about it.  Then Uncle Charlie said quietly like he didn't want me to hear, but how could I, I was in the bathroom, "You know her sister works at the Smithsonian Museum in D.C."  They looked at Uncle Charlie with all kinds of question marks on their faces.  "She kept those two rocks, I bet she's going to take them to her sister when she gets home. she knows about rocks."

 Those two people didn't have anything else to say the rest of the meal. Uncle Charlie, Aunt Cora, Mom and I laughed all the way home, because they thought I was swindling them!!!

Aunt Cora said later that those people went back to Uncle Ben's packed up and left the next day, as if they had never been there.


I don't know anything about rocks, but I did take them home.  I've kept them for the last 25 years and I still didn't brake them open.  And I didn't take them to the museum either.  .

The Return Flight

Monday morning Linda picked me up early, way early.  She had to be back home by 7:00 a.m. or close to that time.  She had to take her kids to a school function. So she dropped me off at B.W.I. almost 2 and 1/2 hours early.

I checked in at the terminal.  I took a seat, sat down and just dozed and waited.  I got up, gazed out on the tarmac at all the airplanes.  They seemed so huge compared to the tow tractors that were being driven around.  I looked way over there, I mean way across the tarmac.  There was this odd looking airplane.  It sort of had a square front, like one of those old timey looking planes.  It was a prop job.  I hope that's not MY plane I secretly prayed to myself.

It never moved, the other airplanes were hooking up to their terminals.  It just sat way out there. A little before 7:00 a.m. the announcement came, "Shuttle flight to New York and Boston exit terminal and proceed across tarmac to" I didn't even hear anything else, I just looked at all the people going out the door and realized that I was supposed to be going with them.  Not me, I don't want to go on THAT plane!  I forced myself to go.

I slowly walked across the tarmac hoping I was dreaming, but I wasn't. The closer I got to that plane, the hotter I got. I was having a hot flash!!!  Then the sweat started.  One of the flight attendants asked me if I was o.k.  I told her I was just HOT!

The portable boarding steps that fitted tightly up to the door to the airplane seemed awfully narrow.  I went up one step at a time almost hesitating at each one.  I squeezed through the door, and down the isle and took my seat.  I belted in real good.

This airplane was similar to the one in one of those Indiana Jones movies. I thought Harrison Ford would be coming down the isle any moment.  Yep I kept looking for him.

The pilot took off, my ears popped.  I'd never flown on a prop job before and this flight was the rest of my round trip, my last round trip.  I had packed a lunch in my bag and quickly got it out.  The ham sandwich tasted good.  I chased it with a coke.  And again the flight attendant asked me if I was alright.  I assured her I was.  But I really wasn't.  I bet my blood pressure was on or near the explosive level.  I tried to take deep breaths and close my eyes, but I could still hear and feel the vibration of the engines. There seemed to be more vibration from this prop than from the jet.  It was almost like driving my husband's 4/wheel drive down a dirt road, with a lot of pot holes, real bumpy.

I didn't have to change planes to Boston.  We landed in New York, almost all of the passengers got off. A few more boarded for Boston.  And that quick we took off and it seemed like only minutes we were landing at Logan.

I finally took the seat belt off, slowly got up and quietly exited the plane.  I found the bathroom, then the exit for the transit and back to my room.  My cat was glad to see me back and I was glad to be back all in one piece.

I watched the news on tv that night.  There, oh my, there was an American Eagle sitting on the tarmac at O'Hare airport.  It's landing gears had collapsed during the landing and it looked like the airplane was on it's knees praying. I did hear that there were no injuries.  I looked again at the airplane, and I got down on my knees.  I sure did.

The Shuttle!

I was in Boston on business and I wanted to come home for a few days, so I booked a flight on an American Airlines Shuttle, round trip.  That meant I took a small jet from Boston to New York and got off that plane and boarded another small jet to Baltimore.  It was my last time flying.

The first hop to New York was o.k. Then I boarded the second hop to Baltimore.  There was only a few people on this flight, maybe 6.  I took a window seat by the left wing. I looked out the window and could see this long BLACK streak down the side of the wing, kind of looked like there may have been fire coming out of the jet engine at some time or other. That's when I fastened my seat belt. Then the flight attendant went to this Asian couple sitting together near the front of the isle, on their side of the isle there were two seats and on my side was one seat per row, and asked them to move to the back to balance out the weight.  Oh my gosh, both of them together didn't weigh what I weighed, how could they balance the plane.  I jacked the seat belt even tighter, as I watched the couple move to the back of the plane.

I'm kind of a compulsive eater when I get bothered by something and those little boxes of crackers and one can of soda didn't hit it.  My stomach started growling like well, it was very loud.

We took off and banked then leveled off.  The flight was really nice, the day was bright and we didn't seem to have any difficulty especially since the weight of the passengers was well BALANCED.  Then when we were approaching BWI in Baltimore, I could see the runway with the arrows and x-es on the runway, the plane took a (to me) sudden hard bank and it looked like I was sideways looking at the runway.  The pilot leveled off and made a perfect landing.

I couldn't wait to get my feet on the ground. I unlatched that seat belt and almost ran off the plane.

My friend Linda picked my up at the airport.  She asked if I wanted something to eat, and I told her don't pass the first 7-11, I was ready for real heart burn.  I wanted 2 chili cheese dogs and I wanted them right now.

Mother's Day Water Taxi

Many years ago when my mom was still alive, my Sister Sally made reservations for her, Susie and me to take Mom to dinner at this restaurant, on the water near Annapolis.   Our table was one of many out on the covered deck.  The food was out of sight delicious.  And of course all of us had a seafood platter, since we all love seafood, especially Maryland crab cakes and fried oysters. Mom loved it.

After the dinner we all walked down the dock area and saw the water taxi.  We hadn't planned on this part of the day but on the spur of the moment decided to go for a ride.  We boarded the water taxi and took seats near the stern.  The Captain gave us a quick safety speech on the use of the life jackets, and don't panic and some other safety points, then took his place at the helm.

When that motor cranked up, oh my gosh, I thought of the African Queen, that's what the engine sounded like, putt, putt, putt. And I pictured Humphrey Bogart and Katherine Hepburn on that lake in Africa avoiding the German ship in WWI.  Yep, I could hear him calling her Rosie and she calling him Mr. Alnut, with the putt, putt, putt of our water taxi engine.  The trip out in the Chesapeake Bay lasted almost an hour.  We really enjoyed giving our mother a treat such as this, and we had a wonderful day.

Spelling

I'm not real good at spelling, of course you can tell this by my spelling of Sarcadosis which is totally incorrect but I spelled it phonetically with my Southern Maryland Accent. The correct spelling should be SARCOIDOSIS.
No matter how it is spelled, It's still a mean disease to have.

Raccoon on the Back Porch

Tonight when I was leaving for work I looked out the door and there was a small raccoon rooting in the trash bag my son had tossed out on his back porch.  He had intended to put it in the trash can on the side of his house in the morning.  Looking at that raccoon brought back a memory of a  hunting experience my husband had many years ago when our sons were 10 and 11 years old.

I came home from work late one night and discovered he had taken them Coon Hunting with his hunting dog, and of course many coon hunters have a black 'n tan dog named 'Ol Blue. Well 'Ol Blue needed to find out what a real raccoon looks like, and I know he never made this mistake again. I really don't think it was his fault, he was a really good hunting dog.  The raccoon he was chasing ran past a Skunk.  Oh boy, that's what he did and when 'Ol Blue ran up on the Skunk, of course the Skunk did what Skunks do and sprayed the poor old dog.

Well, my husband called the hunt off, put 'Ol Blue in the back of the truck and went home.  Of course he got the stink all over his clothes.  When he got home, he put 'Ol Blue in his dog house, came inside took off his clothes and tossed them onto the heater duct.

I walked into our home and couldn't believe the odor.  Bug, that was my husband's nick name,  had only been home for a few minutes but he was already in bed.  I yelled, "Bug!!!! get up." I saw his clothes laying on the heater duct, Oh my gosh, I picked them up and threw them out the door and raised all kinds of hell.  I gave him a gallon bottle of vinegar and told him to pour it all over his clothes and to pour it on the dog too.  I know that the rule is tomatoes but vinegar will do in an emergency, and I thought this was an emergency.  The heater cut on about 10 minutes later.  I know if I hadn't gotten home when I did, we would have had to move because the heat would have carried that SMELL throughout our house. The vinegar did fine. 'Ol Blue recovered fine and of course my husband, he didn't go coon hunting so frequently. 

Sarcadosis, what's that?

I first found out about sarcadosis in 2003.  I had this humongous itch on my back, a lot of whelps, I thought it was shingles.  I went to the doctor, he said it's not shingles, and I don't know what it is.  So he sent me to a dermatologist.  That doctor took a biopsy of one of the whelps. In about a week he called me in, said I had non case eating granuloma, or sarcadosis for short. Then he sent me to a lung specialist, because sarcadosis attacks the lungs and other organs.  Sure enough, I had a bunch of things in my lungs, that doctor did a biopsy of each one and they were all sarcadosis.  He informed me there wasn't any cure.  There is no known cause.  Many people of the African American heritage get it. and the only treatment was steroids-predinisone.  Well, I had many thoughts about all that, since I'm white, female and almost 280 pounds.  I turned down the treatment since the Doctor wanted me to be on it for two years.  I figured at 280 and with steroids added, I wouldn't be able to get through the door. 

At my church on the following Sunday night the Pastor had a healing service.  Each member of the church took a seat one at a time and all the other members prayed over that person.  I didn't tell anyone what I had or anything about this terrible condition. And I was the last one to take a seat.  In about three days all the whelps disappeared.

Two years later, time for my sarcadosis check-up.  I went back to the lung doctor, he gave me the dickens for not taking the medicine, but I had lost about 20 pounds by then and I weighed about 260.  He took more x-rays and all the spots were GONE!  He put the old x-rays up on the board then put the new ones beside them and yep they were all gone.

I believe that God had his hand in this. I did go back to church that Sunday and give a Praise Report to my Pastor and the Assistant Pastor.