Getting older is just a part of life and you don't really appreciate the old and what they have to say until you get older. Sometimes we are to late in our appreciation for the old as some have passed on. There are some great aunts and uncles, grandparents, and older friends I would love to go back and sit down and have a cup of coffee with and just sit back and listen to their stories. It says in the bible we are to take care of the elderly because they took care of us when we were younger when we needed it.
Senior citizens that retain their sanity in their older years are unusual because of the outbreak of Alzheimer's. It is a terrible disease that reverts adults back into a child. Some become to tough to handle for their children to care for and some are moved on their final vacation spot.
I remember visiting a vacation spot for the elderly for the first time with my Aunt Jan and Uncle Ricky and their children Russ and Kimberly when I was about eight. We were visiting one of their elderly kin that was on vacation in a nursing home in Greenwood, Ms. That was what my Aunt called anyway. She called it a vacation place for seniors. I had never been to a nursing home and I remember thinking if this was where all these people vacationed we were in for some fun. She laid out all the ground rules for us kids as we made our thirty minute trip from our boring old town of Tchula to the wonderful, fun, nursing home in Greenwood, Ms. If this was such a wonderful vacation spot as she made it out to be then there shouldn't be any rules. I remember thinking these people have been living by the rules their whole life. I bet they were bouncing off the walls, partying, dancing, playing games, living it up the last years of their life. The rules were as follows:
1. No Running- I can understand this one. These people were probably a little slow because of their age and we didn't want to show them up, make them feel bad for being old.
2. No wandering around- I really understood this. Probably with all of the chaos of vacationing people we could get lost in all the commotion.
There were two rules and they seemed simple enough to follow. As we pulled into the nursing home and got out of the car Aunt Jan reminded us of the two rules once more. I remember walking up to the front door there were a few of the vacationers sitting outside on a bench and a couple in their wheelchairs. I remember thinking they looked tired and and worn out. This was understandable seeing how this was a Sunday and yesterday was Saturday the most partying day of the week. I was sure they were pooped from all of the excitement of last night. One even had slobber running down the side of his face and he just grunted when being spoken to by one of the nurses. We entered the front door and the smell was just like hitting a wall. It was like a mixture of urine, feces, and fried chicken. It was one of those smells you never will forget. It stopped me and my cousin Russ dead in our tracks. Russ was known for a lot of things, but the one he was most known for was he hadn't smelled anything because of allergies since he was two. He could this funk though. Kimberly shouted somebody had stepped in dog doodie and went about checking every ones shoes. My uncle pulled her up from the floor and drug her down the hall. We followed slowly behind observing all the inhabitants in the home. We began to figure out this wasn't a vacation spot. There were no parties, no excitement, no games, we had been fooled by Aunt Jan. We were discussing this game being played on us while walking down the hall when all of a sudden this one older gentleman jumped in front us in the hallway. He stuck out his hand to shake and being the children we were and how we were raised we obliged and stuck out ours. The next thing that happened is something I will never forget. He stuck what looked like an electric razor to his throat and began to say " Hello, How are you boys doing", but it didn't sound like anything I had ever heard. It sounded like a robot from a sci-fi movie with some vibration added. At first it kind of scared us, but I thought this is what they must do for fun around here. From the looks of it they needed some jokes and this must be the comedian of the home. So we shook hands with the older man and went on. Every person we met we did just as he did. We stuck our fake electric razor to our throats and in our best robot voices we shook hands and asked "How are ya ll doing?". When I mean every person we met, I mean every person we met we did this to. We even went in some rooms of the guest we didn't know to bring a little cheer. We had lost my Aunt and Uncle while making the rounds. We made our way into the dining hall where most had gathered and introduced ourselves in our new robotic fashion. Some laughed and some looked on at us like they wished they had a belt to whip our butts. Uncle Ricky had been watching our whole production from the side and needless to say he wasn't happy. We walked over to him and introduced ourselves to him in our new way of talking. He was so mad I think his black beard turned red. He introduced his self as the one that was gonna tear us up when we got home. I remember sitting in the room of their great aunt and not thinking of much else but what we had done. The trip was cut very short due to the problems we had caused. I think we were even asked to leave because we had upset some guest.
I remember the car ride home was a quite one and not much was said. Nothing really needed to be said. That was one of the worst spankings I think I have ever gotten in my life. Thank goodness Uncle Ricky had about an hour to cool off before he got us alone or I think it really could have been bad. I have a grown into a man that loves the elderly. God wants us to love, listen, and serve them. This day helped me grow in my love for seniors. It also was another great memory for me and my Aunt and Uncle. They still get a little cracked up when we talk about it.
The Leflore Family-est 2/2006
Lilypie Third Birthday tickers
Lilypie Second Birthday tickers
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Monday, December 7, 2009
Raising Kids is Like Growing a Garden
Dads are very important to a child. Time spent with that child is just as important for a father as it is to the mother. I have been reading a lot lately to what a father means to a child since I am destined to be a dad. What I have learned so far a father is to give is love, communication, affirmation, prayer, praise, and discipline. Everyone tells me a book won't help me be a good parent. I agree to a certain extent, but being prepared can't hurt.
My Dad and Mom spent a lot of time with us as children. One of the ways we spent a lot of time together was our family garden. It saved a lot of money having a big garden for my parents and it also was a good way of sharing with other families around the community. Our family garden was my Dad's pride and joy. Sometimes I remember him sitting in the shade after a long day of working in it and just smiling while overlooking it. I think sometimes he was as proud of that garden as he was of his two sons. The man could grow the biggest tomatoes anyone had ever seen.
I still remember the first time my father ask me to work in the garden with him. I had grown up playing in the dirt around the garden while my family worked preparing, weeding, and harvesting until I was old enough to go to work myself. Until that point my brother would always argue that I was old enough to work just as hard as him. My dad would always tell him my time was coming. It finally arrived. One night while sitting in the den after supper, he asked me to get up early the next morning and help him chop the garden. It was like a early Christmas present. I was six and ready to get working in the garden that my dad took so much pride in. Maybe I could win some favor by helping him make his garden in to a showpiece. During the hot summer months we only had one A/C in our house and we utilized it to its fullest. We all made pallets on the den floor where it was located and put up a bedspread separating the rest of the house from the arctic den. It was like the equator on one side in the rest of the house and the top of a mountain on the other side. I slept on a twin bed, my brother on the couch, and my parents on a full size bed on the floor. I couldn't sleep the whole night thinking about the work that had to be done in the garden the next day. I may have slept a couple of hours all night and I saw the dawn breaking through the front windows as the windows faced the east. Getting up without awaking anyone was a task in itself in our old creaky house. My plan was to beat my dad to the garden and have a lot of the work done before he made it out that morning. I shucked the covers off and eased to my room to change clothes. We had wood floors in our house and they would creak with every movement. No sound seemed to move my family as I eased out the front door and went for my garden tools. I grabbed my dad's old faithful hoe out of our tool shed/chicken house. My family hadn't had chickens in years so it got converted into a tool shed. I ran through the morning dew to the 2 acre plot of growing vegetables next to our house to put my plans into action. I had made plans the whole night while lying in the bed about what all had to be done. I couldn't remember my dad's plans though. From the time he asked me to help him hoe the garden, I hadn't heard anything else. I started out with the peas and moved on to the butter beans. My dad finally made it out from his bed and he stood there in disbelief at what he saw. I knew he was so proud of his little man by the look on his face. I had the Barney Fife swagger and nose sniff. I was so proud of the job I had done. Remember my dad asked me to help him chop or hoe the garden. That is exactly what I had done, I had chopped the garden. I had chopped down two rows of peas and was working on the first row of butter beans when he caught me. The look of disbelief turned into one of disappointment. I knew from his look what I had done was wrong. He stopped me and told me to go in the house. I think he sat in the garden for a few minutes as his nerves cooled off. It was the only time right before I got a spanking during the pre-spanking speech that I wasn't sure if he was crying about spanking me or over the death of some peas and butter beans.
Either way I learned a lot from working in that garden as I went through life. We learned hard work, responsibility, and learned that taking care of something and nurturing it would reap great rewards not only for our family but also all who we shared with. Gardens are a lot like kids, spend the time with them and work hard at being a parent and try and weed out the bad, and give them encouragement like fertilize and water in the garden and they will bring great rewards not only to you but all they come into contact with. Thanks Mom and Dad for the life lessons and I hope to pass them on one day to my kids.
My Dad and Mom spent a lot of time with us as children. One of the ways we spent a lot of time together was our family garden. It saved a lot of money having a big garden for my parents and it also was a good way of sharing with other families around the community. Our family garden was my Dad's pride and joy. Sometimes I remember him sitting in the shade after a long day of working in it and just smiling while overlooking it. I think sometimes he was as proud of that garden as he was of his two sons. The man could grow the biggest tomatoes anyone had ever seen.
I still remember the first time my father ask me to work in the garden with him. I had grown up playing in the dirt around the garden while my family worked preparing, weeding, and harvesting until I was old enough to go to work myself. Until that point my brother would always argue that I was old enough to work just as hard as him. My dad would always tell him my time was coming. It finally arrived. One night while sitting in the den after supper, he asked me to get up early the next morning and help him chop the garden. It was like a early Christmas present. I was six and ready to get working in the garden that my dad took so much pride in. Maybe I could win some favor by helping him make his garden in to a showpiece. During the hot summer months we only had one A/C in our house and we utilized it to its fullest. We all made pallets on the den floor where it was located and put up a bedspread separating the rest of the house from the arctic den. It was like the equator on one side in the rest of the house and the top of a mountain on the other side. I slept on a twin bed, my brother on the couch, and my parents on a full size bed on the floor. I couldn't sleep the whole night thinking about the work that had to be done in the garden the next day. I may have slept a couple of hours all night and I saw the dawn breaking through the front windows as the windows faced the east. Getting up without awaking anyone was a task in itself in our old creaky house. My plan was to beat my dad to the garden and have a lot of the work done before he made it out that morning. I shucked the covers off and eased to my room to change clothes. We had wood floors in our house and they would creak with every movement. No sound seemed to move my family as I eased out the front door and went for my garden tools. I grabbed my dad's old faithful hoe out of our tool shed/chicken house. My family hadn't had chickens in years so it got converted into a tool shed. I ran through the morning dew to the 2 acre plot of growing vegetables next to our house to put my plans into action. I had made plans the whole night while lying in the bed about what all had to be done. I couldn't remember my dad's plans though. From the time he asked me to help him hoe the garden, I hadn't heard anything else. I started out with the peas and moved on to the butter beans. My dad finally made it out from his bed and he stood there in disbelief at what he saw. I knew he was so proud of his little man by the look on his face. I had the Barney Fife swagger and nose sniff. I was so proud of the job I had done. Remember my dad asked me to help him chop or hoe the garden. That is exactly what I had done, I had chopped the garden. I had chopped down two rows of peas and was working on the first row of butter beans when he caught me. The look of disbelief turned into one of disappointment. I knew from his look what I had done was wrong. He stopped me and told me to go in the house. I think he sat in the garden for a few minutes as his nerves cooled off. It was the only time right before I got a spanking during the pre-spanking speech that I wasn't sure if he was crying about spanking me or over the death of some peas and butter beans.
Either way I learned a lot from working in that garden as I went through life. We learned hard work, responsibility, and learned that taking care of something and nurturing it would reap great rewards not only for our family but also all who we shared with. Gardens are a lot like kids, spend the time with them and work hard at being a parent and try and weed out the bad, and give them encouragement like fertilize and water in the garden and they will bring great rewards not only to you but all they come into contact with. Thanks Mom and Dad for the life lessons and I hope to pass them on one day to my kids.
Tuesday, December 1, 2009
Most Wanted! Can Be Seen On Post Office Wall!
I told Royann when we found out we were pregnant I would write some of my funny childhood stories just in case something happened to me and I couldn't be around to tell them to my kids. Here is another example of one of those stories for every ones entertainment.
I grew up having a normal childhood like most boys in the Mississippi Delta. I had a Mom and Dad that believed in God and tried hard to raise my brother and me right and provide us with any needs we may have. Notice I said needs. I didn't say with all of our wants. I tried hard to keep my nose clean because I knew what would happen if I didn't. Whoa!! Here is another one of those crazy quotes. "Keep my nose clean" Do bad people have dirty noses? Do bad people not have tissues? Just another quote we say that I guess and we don't have a clear meaning. My dad possessed a brown belt that my butt met a few times throughout life. I swear when I think back on my dad, I think my dad was like Andy Griffith. He would talk to me about what I did for a few minutes and tell me how much he loved me. How it hurt him worse to spank me than it did me. That is a load of crap. He should have given me that belt and let me get in a few good swats. After all that the spanking would proceed. I had a dance while I was getting a spanking and it was known far and wide like the "Twist" of the old days. It was called the "Mississippi Jig". At least that is what my Dad called it. It wasn't a dance you could learn step by step. It changed each time I would break it out.
So as you can see trouble was something I didn't go looking for, but a lot of times it found me because of the people I hung around with. I think sometimes it was my cousin's best friend. There wasn't a lot for boys to do in the country besides hunting, practicing sports, or work. One or the other we were going to be doing one of them or something related. One of the more exciting things to do for a country boy growing up and having a license and truck was to go spotlighting. It was a legal thing to do back in the old days as long as you didn't have gun. It was amazing the deer we would see at night never seen in the daytime. I think some of these deer lived in underground caves during the day. On into my college days it was something my cousins and I would do on a regular basis in the fall after work.
This one particular night myself, Heath, and Keath or better known as the "Bubbas" were riding around looking at deer and drinking cold beer. The Bubbas were twins and my third cousins. They loved fighting, hunting, farming, and women and they were a little on the short and stocky side. I have seen these two while sitting in between them at church have wrestling matches on the back pew of the church. One of the fights was so bad the preacher even stopped his sermon to watch. While riding around that night we started to run low on the liquid beverage while spotlighting on their Dad's land. It was small plot of land in the hills right above the delta that had a cabin and a barn and a few cows and goats. Well we put our money together to make the beer run into the town of Tchula just a few miles away. We had three dollars and some odd change. We knew that wouldn't buy hardly a can of cheap beer so we had to come up with a plan. There was an older man we could always take our extra meat to and he pay a premium price for any thing we brought him. Armadillos, raccoons, fish, deer, turkey, just about anything that was wild and breathed oxygen he would take it. We knew better than to shoot deer or anything at night that was illegal to kill. The last thing we needed was to get in trouble with the game warden. We devised a plan to kill one of the goats that was nestled in the stack of hay sitting in Heath and Keath's Dad's barn. As we pulled up to the barn all the goats gathered around the hay woke up and gave out a few neighs. I had my bow in my truck from the previous days hunt and it was the weapon of choice. I knew killing something that innocent was wrong and I still feel bad till this day. As the Bubba's held the light I thought to myself I would kill the oldest and meanest looking one. I drew the bow back and released my arrow to the biggest and meanest looking billy in the group. He was atop the hay stack and when I hit him he let off a scream that I will never forget. All the rest of the goats spread out around the barn as my kill rolled down the haystack. They knew something wasn't right. We loaded him on top of my Ford Explorer and tied him down with some string we found laying on the ground. I had a white Explorer most of my teen years that I drove. We got back in the truck and made our way towards the bank with our check on top ready to cash with Ole Chester. Chester lived on the outskirts of Tchula and was always ready for any wild game we would bring him. He had the crispest cash money I had ever seen. We discussed our going rate for the goat on top of the roof while going down the road. I would have been happy with five dollars. The Bubbas said we taking no less than twenty for him. In this discussion I heard a rumble from atop my roof of my car. It sounded like a bad tap dancer dancing on top of my roof. We pulled over to the side of the road to check it out. The goat was alive and kicking. Before I could say anything Keath had pulled out a knife and finished the goat off. I got back in the truck and sat there a little astonished at what I had just witnessed. I don't know what he hit on that goat because the next thing I knew my white truck was blood red. Blood was going down the sides, the windshield, and the back glass. I tried the windshield wipers and misters and it didn't help. It just smeared across the glass. We rode all the way to Chester's driving with our heads out the side windows.
We arrived at Chester's just before ten at night and to no surprise Chester was already in the bed. He was a bit of an early bird when it came to sleep. The real funny thing about Chester was anything we took to Chester he would just drag right into his sharecropper's house. He would dress it out right there in his living room. We awoke Chester from his sleep and he slowly made his way to my truck to check out what we brought him. "A goat", he screamed! "I don'ts eats no goats". This is the first meal I had ever seen Chester turn down. We drove away with our heads hung low in our blood covered truck with the goat still attached and wondering where we would get rid of this thing. Who would take this thing off of our hands? We drove into Tchula hoping somebody would pay a fair price for a fresh billy. We pulled into the gas stations talking this thing up. I think we even went as far as telling some people there in town this was a rare Russian Meat Goat. What we were selling nobody was buying. We rode for a couple of more hours trying to rid ourselves of the old goat. The town had grown quite still. The doors we knocked on nobody came to greet us. The last house we went to was across from the railroad tracks at the main crossing that ran through the middle of the town. Nobody answered the door of the house of one of the farm hands of the Bubbas. They were our last hope for getting rid of the thing. I told the Bubbas I was ready to end the night and told them I was ready for bed. We unstrapped the goat from the top of the truck and said we would leave it for the farm hand to find the next day to get and dress out and feed his family. We tied it up by his neck across the railroad crossing sign right in front of the man's house. How could he miss it the next day when he came out that morning?
We made our way home to the Bubba's house in Lexington to to get some rest from our exhausting night. I arose early the next morning because it was Sunday and there was only one place to find our family on Sunday and that was church. I made my way from Lexington to Horseshoe to get home for some Sunday morning breakfast. Tchula was a midway point to my parents home from Lexington. I started getting closer to Tchula and noticed there was a traffic jam a mile long. Tchula is not New York. It is not known for its traffic jams. I inched my way closer into town to see what was going on. I made it all the way to the stop light across from the railroad crossing and saw that was where the traffic jam was. I thought did somebody have a wreck or did a train hit somebody? With all the law enforcement lined up around the railroad crossing something bad had to happen. I made my way to the black police officer who I knew and played basketball with on occasion who was directing traffic. I saw local police, sheriffs deputies, highway patrol, FBI, railroad FBI, and media photographers everywhere. They were all standing around our goat and taking pictures and writing on their little notepads. I questioned my buddy the police officer what was going on? His exact words were "The damn KKK came through town last night and we gonna find out why they came here and what they were doing and where they are". He told me if I heard anything let him know. I told him "Dang KKK does some crazy stuff" and I wished him luck in finding the culprits who hung that goat there.
Little did I know that hanging a goat in some body's yard meant the KKK was coming for them. If I would have I sure wouldn't have hung it up there. It made the local news that night, all the local papers, Clarion-Ledger, and I even think the AP writers had it written up across the US in a few choice papers. Headlines read: "KKK strikes in Tchula, Ms". The last time I talked to my buddy the case had been closed and I hope it stays that way. I don't think I could have claimed stupidity especially us being white in an almost 100 percent black town.
I grew up having a normal childhood like most boys in the Mississippi Delta. I had a Mom and Dad that believed in God and tried hard to raise my brother and me right and provide us with any needs we may have. Notice I said needs. I didn't say with all of our wants. I tried hard to keep my nose clean because I knew what would happen if I didn't. Whoa!! Here is another one of those crazy quotes. "Keep my nose clean" Do bad people have dirty noses? Do bad people not have tissues? Just another quote we say that I guess and we don't have a clear meaning. My dad possessed a brown belt that my butt met a few times throughout life. I swear when I think back on my dad, I think my dad was like Andy Griffith. He would talk to me about what I did for a few minutes and tell me how much he loved me. How it hurt him worse to spank me than it did me. That is a load of crap. He should have given me that belt and let me get in a few good swats. After all that the spanking would proceed. I had a dance while I was getting a spanking and it was known far and wide like the "Twist" of the old days. It was called the "Mississippi Jig". At least that is what my Dad called it. It wasn't a dance you could learn step by step. It changed each time I would break it out.
So as you can see trouble was something I didn't go looking for, but a lot of times it found me because of the people I hung around with. I think sometimes it was my cousin's best friend. There wasn't a lot for boys to do in the country besides hunting, practicing sports, or work. One or the other we were going to be doing one of them or something related. One of the more exciting things to do for a country boy growing up and having a license and truck was to go spotlighting. It was a legal thing to do back in the old days as long as you didn't have gun. It was amazing the deer we would see at night never seen in the daytime. I think some of these deer lived in underground caves during the day. On into my college days it was something my cousins and I would do on a regular basis in the fall after work.
This one particular night myself, Heath, and Keath or better known as the "Bubbas" were riding around looking at deer and drinking cold beer. The Bubbas were twins and my third cousins. They loved fighting, hunting, farming, and women and they were a little on the short and stocky side. I have seen these two while sitting in between them at church have wrestling matches on the back pew of the church. One of the fights was so bad the preacher even stopped his sermon to watch. While riding around that night we started to run low on the liquid beverage while spotlighting on their Dad's land. It was small plot of land in the hills right above the delta that had a cabin and a barn and a few cows and goats. Well we put our money together to make the beer run into the town of Tchula just a few miles away. We had three dollars and some odd change. We knew that wouldn't buy hardly a can of cheap beer so we had to come up with a plan. There was an older man we could always take our extra meat to and he pay a premium price for any thing we brought him. Armadillos, raccoons, fish, deer, turkey, just about anything that was wild and breathed oxygen he would take it. We knew better than to shoot deer or anything at night that was illegal to kill. The last thing we needed was to get in trouble with the game warden. We devised a plan to kill one of the goats that was nestled in the stack of hay sitting in Heath and Keath's Dad's barn. As we pulled up to the barn all the goats gathered around the hay woke up and gave out a few neighs. I had my bow in my truck from the previous days hunt and it was the weapon of choice. I knew killing something that innocent was wrong and I still feel bad till this day. As the Bubba's held the light I thought to myself I would kill the oldest and meanest looking one. I drew the bow back and released my arrow to the biggest and meanest looking billy in the group. He was atop the hay stack and when I hit him he let off a scream that I will never forget. All the rest of the goats spread out around the barn as my kill rolled down the haystack. They knew something wasn't right. We loaded him on top of my Ford Explorer and tied him down with some string we found laying on the ground. I had a white Explorer most of my teen years that I drove. We got back in the truck and made our way towards the bank with our check on top ready to cash with Ole Chester. Chester lived on the outskirts of Tchula and was always ready for any wild game we would bring him. He had the crispest cash money I had ever seen. We discussed our going rate for the goat on top of the roof while going down the road. I would have been happy with five dollars. The Bubbas said we taking no less than twenty for him. In this discussion I heard a rumble from atop my roof of my car. It sounded like a bad tap dancer dancing on top of my roof. We pulled over to the side of the road to check it out. The goat was alive and kicking. Before I could say anything Keath had pulled out a knife and finished the goat off. I got back in the truck and sat there a little astonished at what I had just witnessed. I don't know what he hit on that goat because the next thing I knew my white truck was blood red. Blood was going down the sides, the windshield, and the back glass. I tried the windshield wipers and misters and it didn't help. It just smeared across the glass. We rode all the way to Chester's driving with our heads out the side windows.
We arrived at Chester's just before ten at night and to no surprise Chester was already in the bed. He was a bit of an early bird when it came to sleep. The real funny thing about Chester was anything we took to Chester he would just drag right into his sharecropper's house. He would dress it out right there in his living room. We awoke Chester from his sleep and he slowly made his way to my truck to check out what we brought him. "A goat", he screamed! "I don'ts eats no goats". This is the first meal I had ever seen Chester turn down. We drove away with our heads hung low in our blood covered truck with the goat still attached and wondering where we would get rid of this thing. Who would take this thing off of our hands? We drove into Tchula hoping somebody would pay a fair price for a fresh billy. We pulled into the gas stations talking this thing up. I think we even went as far as telling some people there in town this was a rare Russian Meat Goat. What we were selling nobody was buying. We rode for a couple of more hours trying to rid ourselves of the old goat. The town had grown quite still. The doors we knocked on nobody came to greet us. The last house we went to was across from the railroad tracks at the main crossing that ran through the middle of the town. Nobody answered the door of the house of one of the farm hands of the Bubbas. They were our last hope for getting rid of the thing. I told the Bubbas I was ready to end the night and told them I was ready for bed. We unstrapped the goat from the top of the truck and said we would leave it for the farm hand to find the next day to get and dress out and feed his family. We tied it up by his neck across the railroad crossing sign right in front of the man's house. How could he miss it the next day when he came out that morning?
We made our way home to the Bubba's house in Lexington to to get some rest from our exhausting night. I arose early the next morning because it was Sunday and there was only one place to find our family on Sunday and that was church. I made my way from Lexington to Horseshoe to get home for some Sunday morning breakfast. Tchula was a midway point to my parents home from Lexington. I started getting closer to Tchula and noticed there was a traffic jam a mile long. Tchula is not New York. It is not known for its traffic jams. I inched my way closer into town to see what was going on. I made it all the way to the stop light across from the railroad crossing and saw that was where the traffic jam was. I thought did somebody have a wreck or did a train hit somebody? With all the law enforcement lined up around the railroad crossing something bad had to happen. I made my way to the black police officer who I knew and played basketball with on occasion who was directing traffic. I saw local police, sheriffs deputies, highway patrol, FBI, railroad FBI, and media photographers everywhere. They were all standing around our goat and taking pictures and writing on their little notepads. I questioned my buddy the police officer what was going on? His exact words were "The damn KKK came through town last night and we gonna find out why they came here and what they were doing and where they are". He told me if I heard anything let him know. I told him "Dang KKK does some crazy stuff" and I wished him luck in finding the culprits who hung that goat there.
Little did I know that hanging a goat in some body's yard meant the KKK was coming for them. If I would have I sure wouldn't have hung it up there. It made the local news that night, all the local papers, Clarion-Ledger, and I even think the AP writers had it written up across the US in a few choice papers. Headlines read: "KKK strikes in Tchula, Ms". The last time I talked to my buddy the case had been closed and I hope it stays that way. I don't think I could have claimed stupidity especially us being white in an almost 100 percent black town.
The Life!!
One of the first questions always asked of me by hunters in camp is how I got into the duck hunting business. The answer is always I love people and I love duck hunting, so what a perfect fit for me. I know this is the short answer, but there is a little bit longer one also.
In January of 92 best friend of my life, Russ Pullen asked me to go duck hunting with him. The quick answer I gave him was a big, fat no. I had been a deer hunter all my life by the raising of my father. My father duck hunted in the seventies when they ran from the law with kroger sacks full of ducks. What the heck is a kroger sack anyway? It must be a big sack because they would put hundreds of ducks in them. The only reason he ever gave me for stopping duck hunting was not being able to use lead shot anymore. Back to my story of Russ asking me to hunt, My thoughts of standing in water in the chilling cold to kill a big dove was dumb. I killed enough flying birds with the opening of dove season each year in September and it was done in the warmth of summer. Water and cold is not a good mixture.
I finally agreed to go on a hunt though about the hundredth time he asked me. You pester me long enough on anything I will finally give in. I went on the pre-evening scout that afternoon with him to find where the ducks were. We pulled up to an old family friend's house where there was a an old slough running right behind. She came out to check what was going on as to somebody being in her driveway. With hundreds of dogs barking and roosters crowing, I felt like I had drove up to a barn than somebodies house. She was older lady that loved her animals and it showed. She came out to greet us and to see what we were doing. We informed her we were going hunting in the morning in the slough behind her house. A look of desperation and anxiety came across her face. Her next words I never will forget was "You shoot my pet ducks and I am going to shoot you". Wow!! This coming from an old family friend. Wonder what she would do to somebody she doesn't like that shot her pet ducks? I carried on the conversation with her as Russ scouted the hole. Russ came walking back up as the sun went to bed with a big grin from ear to ear. He motioned me to lets go. The older lady made her way back to the barn, oops trailer and turning around as she walked in the door and saying "You shoot my pet ducks and I will shoot you". We climbed into the truck and I noticed Russ was shaking with excitement. "They are thick as thief's", he said. What does that mean? I never have figured that one out. Do thief's stick really tight together? If so why don't we arrest everyone of them while they are so thick?
The morning had arrived of my long awaited first duck hunt. Let me tell you it was cold. Hold on a minute. Cold doesn't even begin to explain it. It was so cold I my dad had passed on going deer hunting that morning. If my dad wasn't hunting because of the cold you had to be an idiot to be hunting. He could withstand anything. He woke me that morning for my hunt. I layered the clothes on and was really trying to talk myself out of going hunting that morning. Letting my friends down was something I was not into doing. I promised him I would go this one time and I was gonna follow through with my promise. Headlights hitting the den windows was my call to the Arctic cold. The thing I really remember about that morning was Russ's windows were so frosted over that we had to drive to the hole 3 miles away with the windows down to see.
We made our way to our parking place and began to unload. I didn't really have to get use to the cold because I was frozen from head to toe. The hardest thing for a hunter to do is get out of a warm truck and jump into the cold dark morning. That is the point you start talking yourself out of a hunt. It wasn't this morning. I put on some frozen waders that belonged to my Uncle. These waders must have been made for hunting in Mexico. They were made from rubber and as thick as a Ziploc bag. The only thing they were made to do was keep you dry and from the patches on them I didn't think they would do that. I agreed to carry the decoy bag and Russ would carry guns and and shells. Russ led the way through the dark woods. He never was a good leader. One under written rule of hunting with a partner is you always hold any branches that might get in the way of the following hunter. He missed hunting etiquette classes. He let a limb that seemed the size of major log come back and hit me right in the face. Even if it had been a warm morning this thing would have made a grown man cry. With it being cold it quadrupled the pain. I laid on the ground in excruciating pain, Russ laughed. I laid there as he walked on and started throwing out decoys. I finally regained my composure and mad my way to the water.
The pink of the sunrise broke the eastern sky. The sounds of whistling wings and the occasional quack circled our heads like fighter planes Di-bombing a battlefield. I loaded my gun and quickly got ready. Excitement filled my veins and the pain of the limb on my face and the blistering cold throughout my body deceased. I saw a black outline coming right ahead of me and kicked my gun to my shoulder and let the fire fly. It was a direct hit and it made its way down from us. I went to trail my kill down edge of the slough. Ice crackling under my feet from the frozen water made lots of noise and my hunting partner screamed to get on the bank to make my chase as I would be scaring of any incoming ducks. I found the crippled duck lying on the edge of the water already frozen in the ice where it had hit. I picked it up and in disbelief I saw I had killed one of the lady's pet ducks. The thought of the previous days conversation with the little old lady rang through my head. "You shoot one of my pet ducks I will shoot you." I dug a hole in the frozen ground as fast as I could to bury the evidence. With my fingers pink from being frozen and mud frozen to them I tried to warm them in my pockets. I had so much mud on my hands they would barely go in my pocket. I made my way to my hunting partner. With questions flying I felt like I was being questioned for a crime. Really I could have been, thinking to myself. I finally told him I had killed one of the lady's pet ducks. I explained it was a mallard hen just like in her back yard. "How do you know it was one of hers", he asked? I muttered it had some kind of silver band on its leg with writing and numbers if you kill this duck call this number. I didn't think to look to see if it was the old lady's number or the number to the local sheriffs department to turn yourself in for killing a poor old lady's pet duck.He asked where I had put the duck and I proceeded to tell him I had buried it in the frozen tundra. With that my friend walked on water. Jesus and Peter weren't the only ones to walk on water. Russ Pullen did it. I was a witness. You want to find Al Capone, Russ Pullen is your man. He found the duck in a matter of seconds in the camouflaged hole I made for its final resting place. He went on to tell me what I had done was what most duck hunters had been trying to do for years, kill a banded duck. I didn't realize what I had done till later on in the day as Russ paraded the trophy around to all the local duck hunters.
I gave that band to him to remember that hunt with him and we still laugh till this day as we look on at his single band on his call lanyard. I have numerous pieces of jewelry on mine now, but none will be as special to me as that one and it couldn't be with a better person than my best friend. He still tells the story to all who will listen. I went on to make a career out of duck hunting and every hunt as I am throwing out decoys I think back to that hunt.What if I hadn't gone? What if I had laid there on the ground after being struck with a tree? What if? Make every moment in your life a what is, because you never know when one single moment is gonna change your life forever. Russ had shown me that taking people hunting and sharing a moment like with others is what life was all about. I didn't realize it to later on though what that hunt meant. Thanks, Russ I will be forever grateful for a moment that changed my life forever. A moment that led into a living and the birth of Mossy Island Outfitters.
In January of 92 best friend of my life, Russ Pullen asked me to go duck hunting with him. The quick answer I gave him was a big, fat no. I had been a deer hunter all my life by the raising of my father. My father duck hunted in the seventies when they ran from the law with kroger sacks full of ducks. What the heck is a kroger sack anyway? It must be a big sack because they would put hundreds of ducks in them. The only reason he ever gave me for stopping duck hunting was not being able to use lead shot anymore. Back to my story of Russ asking me to hunt, My thoughts of standing in water in the chilling cold to kill a big dove was dumb. I killed enough flying birds with the opening of dove season each year in September and it was done in the warmth of summer. Water and cold is not a good mixture.
I finally agreed to go on a hunt though about the hundredth time he asked me. You pester me long enough on anything I will finally give in. I went on the pre-evening scout that afternoon with him to find where the ducks were. We pulled up to an old family friend's house where there was a an old slough running right behind. She came out to check what was going on as to somebody being in her driveway. With hundreds of dogs barking and roosters crowing, I felt like I had drove up to a barn than somebodies house. She was older lady that loved her animals and it showed. She came out to greet us and to see what we were doing. We informed her we were going hunting in the morning in the slough behind her house. A look of desperation and anxiety came across her face. Her next words I never will forget was "You shoot my pet ducks and I am going to shoot you". Wow!! This coming from an old family friend. Wonder what she would do to somebody she doesn't like that shot her pet ducks? I carried on the conversation with her as Russ scouted the hole. Russ came walking back up as the sun went to bed with a big grin from ear to ear. He motioned me to lets go. The older lady made her way back to the barn, oops trailer and turning around as she walked in the door and saying "You shoot my pet ducks and I will shoot you". We climbed into the truck and I noticed Russ was shaking with excitement. "They are thick as thief's", he said. What does that mean? I never have figured that one out. Do thief's stick really tight together? If so why don't we arrest everyone of them while they are so thick?
The morning had arrived of my long awaited first duck hunt. Let me tell you it was cold. Hold on a minute. Cold doesn't even begin to explain it. It was so cold I my dad had passed on going deer hunting that morning. If my dad wasn't hunting because of the cold you had to be an idiot to be hunting. He could withstand anything. He woke me that morning for my hunt. I layered the clothes on and was really trying to talk myself out of going hunting that morning. Letting my friends down was something I was not into doing. I promised him I would go this one time and I was gonna follow through with my promise. Headlights hitting the den windows was my call to the Arctic cold. The thing I really remember about that morning was Russ's windows were so frosted over that we had to drive to the hole 3 miles away with the windows down to see.
We made our way to our parking place and began to unload. I didn't really have to get use to the cold because I was frozen from head to toe. The hardest thing for a hunter to do is get out of a warm truck and jump into the cold dark morning. That is the point you start talking yourself out of a hunt. It wasn't this morning. I put on some frozen waders that belonged to my Uncle. These waders must have been made for hunting in Mexico. They were made from rubber and as thick as a Ziploc bag. The only thing they were made to do was keep you dry and from the patches on them I didn't think they would do that. I agreed to carry the decoy bag and Russ would carry guns and and shells. Russ led the way through the dark woods. He never was a good leader. One under written rule of hunting with a partner is you always hold any branches that might get in the way of the following hunter. He missed hunting etiquette classes. He let a limb that seemed the size of major log come back and hit me right in the face. Even if it had been a warm morning this thing would have made a grown man cry. With it being cold it quadrupled the pain. I laid on the ground in excruciating pain, Russ laughed. I laid there as he walked on and started throwing out decoys. I finally regained my composure and mad my way to the water.
The pink of the sunrise broke the eastern sky. The sounds of whistling wings and the occasional quack circled our heads like fighter planes Di-bombing a battlefield. I loaded my gun and quickly got ready. Excitement filled my veins and the pain of the limb on my face and the blistering cold throughout my body deceased. I saw a black outline coming right ahead of me and kicked my gun to my shoulder and let the fire fly. It was a direct hit and it made its way down from us. I went to trail my kill down edge of the slough. Ice crackling under my feet from the frozen water made lots of noise and my hunting partner screamed to get on the bank to make my chase as I would be scaring of any incoming ducks. I found the crippled duck lying on the edge of the water already frozen in the ice where it had hit. I picked it up and in disbelief I saw I had killed one of the lady's pet ducks. The thought of the previous days conversation with the little old lady rang through my head. "You shoot one of my pet ducks I will shoot you." I dug a hole in the frozen ground as fast as I could to bury the evidence. With my fingers pink from being frozen and mud frozen to them I tried to warm them in my pockets. I had so much mud on my hands they would barely go in my pocket. I made my way to my hunting partner. With questions flying I felt like I was being questioned for a crime. Really I could have been, thinking to myself. I finally told him I had killed one of the lady's pet ducks. I explained it was a mallard hen just like in her back yard. "How do you know it was one of hers", he asked? I muttered it had some kind of silver band on its leg with writing and numbers if you kill this duck call this number. I didn't think to look to see if it was the old lady's number or the number to the local sheriffs department to turn yourself in for killing a poor old lady's pet duck.He asked where I had put the duck and I proceeded to tell him I had buried it in the frozen tundra. With that my friend walked on water. Jesus and Peter weren't the only ones to walk on water. Russ Pullen did it. I was a witness. You want to find Al Capone, Russ Pullen is your man. He found the duck in a matter of seconds in the camouflaged hole I made for its final resting place. He went on to tell me what I had done was what most duck hunters had been trying to do for years, kill a banded duck. I didn't realize what I had done till later on in the day as Russ paraded the trophy around to all the local duck hunters.
I gave that band to him to remember that hunt with him and we still laugh till this day as we look on at his single band on his call lanyard. I have numerous pieces of jewelry on mine now, but none will be as special to me as that one and it couldn't be with a better person than my best friend. He still tells the story to all who will listen. I went on to make a career out of duck hunting and every hunt as I am throwing out decoys I think back to that hunt.What if I hadn't gone? What if I had laid there on the ground after being struck with a tree? What if? Make every moment in your life a what is, because you never know when one single moment is gonna change your life forever. Russ had shown me that taking people hunting and sharing a moment like with others is what life was all about. I didn't realize it to later on though what that hunt meant. Thanks, Russ I will be forever grateful for a moment that changed my life forever. A moment that led into a living and the birth of Mossy Island Outfitters.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Special Shoes
Growing up basketball was a huge part of my life. I loved the game. I practiced everyday that I could. What I am saying in "I could" was if the court was dry from rain or not. It was the only court I had and it was at my Aunt and Uncle's house next door. I spent a lot of time shooting jump shots and especially free throws. I remember I would shoot at least two hundred jump shots per day and a hundred free throws per day. If I knew I was gonna miss the next day I would double or triple up according to how many days I was gonna miss. Some how, some way, I was gonna get my shots in.
I spent a lot of this weekend with a good friend of mine. He is also my brother-in-law. We spent the rides home from deer hunting talking of hunting, family, and of mainly our shared interest basketball. Dennis grew up focusing on basketball and being a great player. He went on to play at Sam Houston Sate and MSU after high school. I went on to play at little ol MDCC after high school. We talked a lot of the similarities we had in practicing in the off-season and what it took to be a great player. We both started at a young age practicing hard to be good, but there were a few differences that made a difference in how we turned out.
Rocky: Dennis:
200 jump shots/day 600 jump shots/day
100 free throws/day 300 free throws/day
Played Academy Ball Played Public School ball
No weights Lifted weights everyday
Outdoors court Practiced in gym everyday
Rubber Basketball Authentic Leather Basketball
There is one difference that really put Dennis over the top in his basketball development and we had a good laugh about it though. It was the strength shoe. Many of you are wondering what is a strength shoe? I found a picture of one for those that didn't know:
One of my biggest weaknesses in my game has always been my vertical jump and my feet quickness. I knew from an early age that this was something that I really needed to work on. A concrete court, multiple jump shots or free throws, playing academy ball, or the type of ball I was using wouldn't make these deficits any better. I found out about these shoes out of a magazine and believed every word the advertisement said. "Increase your vertical by ten inches and your forty time by three tenths of a second".
The difference in this was found out this weekend. Dennis said his dad just showed up one day with these shoes for him to start working out in. On the other end I begged my parents to please buy me some. I brought the advertisement home and put it different places in the house hoping they would get the hint. I kept finding it in the trash. So finally I just asked for some. No was the answer. Don't get me wrong I really love my parents and they never let me live without my basic needs, but sometimes they were very tight. They didn't see a reason to buy a child a $220 pair of shoes. You know the reasons: They never had a $220 pair of shoes. They walked barefooted most of their childhood and so should I. Earn the money myself and buy them.(I did work all of my childhood, but that money went to a car.)
I have always found a way to do something I really believed in and I really believed in these shoes. I was gonna have some strength shoes. I decided to make me some. That is exactly what I said, I made some homemade strength shoes. All it took was a 3inch piece of 2*4, old basketball shoe, and duct tape. This is what I came up with:
Dennis told me his came with a workout video. I guess I could have made a workout video for mine. I could have named it "The Giant Retard and His Special Shoes". I could have been rich. He said his video had a lot of side to side and jumping movements. I couldn't make those move in mine or the duct tape wouldn't hold and let me tell you didn't want mess the duct tape up. To tight and lose the feeling in your toes and to loose the block on the bottom would slide over and you would fall over. It took a while to get the duct tape calibrated just right. I remember walking down the road in these shoes and cars would slow down and take a look and people would stare and whisper about me. I didn't care I was getting quicker and faster. Only the quicker and faster never came. The only thing that came was hurting knees and shin splints. I remember the last time I wore them and the hurt in my legs and disappointment that they had probably made me slower. I threw them away that afternoon. My mom saved them and still has them at their house. I didn't know until I asked her about it the other day. I thought she was gonna choke when I brought it up. She was laughing so hard. We laughed a while about it and I told her of all of the accomplishments that the shoes had helped Dennis get to. Her response was "I guess we could have spent $220 on those shoes." Heck yeah thinking to myself, they could have taken me on to the NBA. HA! HA! YEAH RIGHT!
I spent a lot of this weekend with a good friend of mine. He is also my brother-in-law. We spent the rides home from deer hunting talking of hunting, family, and of mainly our shared interest basketball. Dennis grew up focusing on basketball and being a great player. He went on to play at Sam Houston Sate and MSU after high school. I went on to play at little ol MDCC after high school. We talked a lot of the similarities we had in practicing in the off-season and what it took to be a great player. We both started at a young age practicing hard to be good, but there were a few differences that made a difference in how we turned out.
Rocky: Dennis:
200 jump shots/day 600 jump shots/day
100 free throws/day 300 free throws/day
Played Academy Ball Played Public School ball
No weights Lifted weights everyday
Outdoors court Practiced in gym everyday
Rubber Basketball Authentic Leather Basketball
There is one difference that really put Dennis over the top in his basketball development and we had a good laugh about it though. It was the strength shoe. Many of you are wondering what is a strength shoe? I found a picture of one for those that didn't know:
One of my biggest weaknesses in my game has always been my vertical jump and my feet quickness. I knew from an early age that this was something that I really needed to work on. A concrete court, multiple jump shots or free throws, playing academy ball, or the type of ball I was using wouldn't make these deficits any better. I found out about these shoes out of a magazine and believed every word the advertisement said. "Increase your vertical by ten inches and your forty time by three tenths of a second".
The difference in this was found out this weekend. Dennis said his dad just showed up one day with these shoes for him to start working out in. On the other end I begged my parents to please buy me some. I brought the advertisement home and put it different places in the house hoping they would get the hint. I kept finding it in the trash. So finally I just asked for some. No was the answer. Don't get me wrong I really love my parents and they never let me live without my basic needs, but sometimes they were very tight. They didn't see a reason to buy a child a $220 pair of shoes. You know the reasons: They never had a $220 pair of shoes. They walked barefooted most of their childhood and so should I. Earn the money myself and buy them.(I did work all of my childhood, but that money went to a car.)
I have always found a way to do something I really believed in and I really believed in these shoes. I was gonna have some strength shoes. I decided to make me some. That is exactly what I said, I made some homemade strength shoes. All it took was a 3inch piece of 2*4, old basketball shoe, and duct tape. This is what I came up with:
Dennis told me his came with a workout video. I guess I could have made a workout video for mine. I could have named it "The Giant Retard and His Special Shoes". I could have been rich. He said his video had a lot of side to side and jumping movements. I couldn't make those move in mine or the duct tape wouldn't hold and let me tell you didn't want mess the duct tape up. To tight and lose the feeling in your toes and to loose the block on the bottom would slide over and you would fall over. It took a while to get the duct tape calibrated just right. I remember walking down the road in these shoes and cars would slow down and take a look and people would stare and whisper about me. I didn't care I was getting quicker and faster. Only the quicker and faster never came. The only thing that came was hurting knees and shin splints. I remember the last time I wore them and the hurt in my legs and disappointment that they had probably made me slower. I threw them away that afternoon. My mom saved them and still has them at their house. I didn't know until I asked her about it the other day. I thought she was gonna choke when I brought it up. She was laughing so hard. We laughed a while about it and I told her of all of the accomplishments that the shoes had helped Dennis get to. Her response was "I guess we could have spent $220 on those shoes." Heck yeah thinking to myself, they could have taken me on to the NBA. HA! HA! YEAH RIGHT!
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Happy Birthday Kelsey!!!!!!!!
One thing I am was not lucky enough to have growing up was a sister. I think I could have been a good brother to a little sister. What I didn't know was what God had in store for me in 2003. I got all I ever dreamed of and more in a sister. Not only did I get a sister but also I got a chaperone for Royann and I throughout our dating process. I remember the first time I met Kelsey. She welcomed me with open arms into the family. The whole family did a great job of that, but Kelsey was different. She became a part of my life from day one. She has been my basketball buddy, my co pilot flying, a carpenter when I needed help, a vacation partner, my Ole Miss football game partner, and a girl just when I needed to talk. She is mature way beyond her years. She is the all-american girl. Royann and Kelsey are really close also. They spent eight or nine years sleeping in the same twin bed. She was Royann's snuggle bunny.
The first time I met Kelsey she was turning the ripe age of twelve. Today I heard a story of Kelsey on her twelfth birthday. She was at the drug store working when a the thoughts of getting older got the best of her. She ran over to the flower shop to seek counsel from Bessie the Florist. She jumped on the counter in the shop and and tears was rolling down her face. Bessie thought she had gotten in trouble with her Mom and Dad. Bessie questioned what was wrong and Kelsey exclaimed, " I don't want to get older". Bessie told her that getting older was great and to enjoy these days and questioned her why getting older was so scary. Kelsey went on to tell Bessie she was really afraid of getting boobs and womanly curves. Bessie went on to comfort her that day about growing into a woman. She grew into one heck of a woman. She not only has the looks, but the brains to back it up.
Happy Birthday Kelsey (little sister), and Royann and I love you very much. We will always be here for you if ever need anything. We hope to get to spend a lot more birthdays with you. Maybe one day you will get those boobs you so fear.
Monday, November 9, 2009
The Greatest Kiss
Stories are meant to be told and also meant to be read. I love to listen to great stories. I thought I would write them down now so if anything were to ever to happen to me maybe one day Royann could share them with our kids and have a great laugh. Royann has taken a fill in position with a couple of vet clinics around Mississippi and sometimes it leaves me home alone. Tonight happens to be one of those nights. I am a very traditional person. As you read this blog of stories you will come to find that out. There are things that I do day in and day out that are traditional to me. One is hard to do when my wife is away. Ever since she found out she was pregnant with our first child, I go in each night and kiss my wife and rub on her belly. (Royann goes to bed before me a lot of times while I work on a computer business.) Also I say a prayer with my wife for our future child with my hand on her belly. I don't pray that he or she is successful, rich, smart, healthy, or a good athlete like most parents would hope for. I am not saying those things are important so please don't take it in the wrong way. I have a unmoving faith that those things will be taken care of by God. The one thing I do pray for is his or her salvation. I pray that our child becomes a Christian and he becomes a miracle worker for God here on earth. I end the tradition every night with talking to my wife's belly to our child and telling him or her funny stories about Royann and I and kissing Royann's belly. I know what you are thinking is this the greatest kiss the story was named after and the answer is no.
While thinking about my tradition I thought of another kiss that happened in my life. It was my first kiss. First kisses are long not forgotten by anyone. They are major moments that live with us forever even if we can't stand that person it was with. It always brings a smile to our face thinking of it. Mine was on July 2, 1989. I had gone with my Aunt and Uncle to my cousin's all-star baseball game. In the previous year of playing on these fields I was named league MVP, all-star myself, recorded the most home runs as a hitter and most strikeouts by a pitcher ever to hit or pitch in Holmes County. I was sort of a big man you could say. I was respected by old and young and male and female. I walked with a strut with my held high. When I showed up to this game a year later it was no different from when I was playing. Young does were running everywhere and everyone knew who the head buck was. I sat in the small bleachers away from the main stands where the parents sat where the teenagers were. Just breaking into the teen years I was cool enough at the time to hang with the fourteen and fifteen year olds. I had played with most of them and they knew and respected me for what I did on the field. As I sat down to watch the game I scoped out the women around me without them knowing I was looking. I gauged them and it was the same old women. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the most beautiful specimen a thirteen old had ever seen. She had blond hair with perfect bangs, short shorts, and was the most well endowed thirteen year old I had ever seen. She was a friend of a friend, which worked perfectly in my favor. I knew she would introduce us and talk me up before hand. I was in. I had never been nervous like this in my whole life. I think I even used my real name Bradley because I didn't want the name Rocky to scare her off. We talked the whole game sitting right there on the hill above the field. I don't think I saw a single pitch. The night and the game flew by. The only way I or her knew the game was over is because they started turning the lights off above the field. After the game she asked me to walk me to her friends mother's car. My strut turned into a limp. As we reached her ride and looked behind us at the darkness of the field that was once lit up and the droves of fans walking up to their own cars, I did what any nervous boy would do. I played the small talk card. We were just telling each other our deepest secrets not five minutes ago and I go to the small talk card. I use the small talk to avoid the inevitable, but it didn't work. She wrapped her arms around my neck and moved in. I remember thinking in the milliseconds before her lips met mine, I had never kissed a girl. I didn't know how to do it. I remember thinking do I turn right or turn left or go for the straight on kiss? I had overheard one time my brother saying something about the tongue, but I remember thinking that sounded both gross and dangerous. What if the woman bit it? What did you do with the tongue anyway? I knew I had seen a lot of people kiss on TV on the one channel we did get back then. I had seen wedding kisses. I had seen my Mom and Dad kiss. I did what any naive, country raised boy could do. I decided to go with the TV kiss,closed mouth but with fish motions. Almost like I was chewing a piece of food with my lips. I remember her tongue trying to cross the goal line, but I held it off with my tight lips motion. Wow! This girl was experienced I remember thinking. Just as I finished the kiss my little cousin "The Brat" we used to call her snuck around the car this girl had me pushed up against. She started screaming "Rocky is kissing a girl" over and over. So a lot of people became a part of my moment that night. She quickly said goodbye and jumped into the cranked car we were standing by. I don't know if it was the kiss or the gas fumes from the car that had me on cloud nine, but I could barely stand on my weak knees.
The ride home all I could think about was I didn't get her number or even her last name. Which it didn't matter anyway. We weren't allowed to make long distance phone calls. I knew she lived in Kosciusko and that was long distance from Tchula. Sorry kids no area calling back then. The game was the talk of the car for my uncle and cousin and my bratty little cousin just kept saying "Rocky was kissing! Shame! Shame! Shame!". I talked of this moment a lot with my cousins and friends and knew I would never see this girl again. I was in love. The next weekend as we gathered with family at my family's annual "Family Reunion" at Holmes County State Park. I got my wish. It was a big day in the park for a lot of families having their reunion. There was a tin cover roof every 100 feet with different families all gathering for their different respective families. Most other families we knew because they gathered on the same as the Killebrews each year. With the smell of fried chicken in the air and old people saying, "you are getting so big", I went through the story of that faithful night with my cousins. Just as I was finishing the story, I saw her. It was almost like God had answered my prayers. She was making her way down the hill to her families spot. She glowed like a angel. Her blond hair shining and tossing in the wind. I turned to my cousins and said there she is. It was almost like I was living in a dream. I swear I could hear a slow love song playing in my head as she walked down the hill. Is this really happening I remember thinking? Could her family and my family be in the same park on the same day? They were. She made her way down the hill to all the sectioned spots to where all the different families were gathered. The only problem was she came straight to my family's spot. I treaded lightly to get back to parents car without being noticed. I was only noticed by my cousins and their roaring laughter making fun of me for kissing my cousin. I had kissed my fifth or seventh cousin. It didn't matter to me. We were fruit of the same family tree even if she was an extended branch. I know what you are thinking, Is this the greatest kiss I have ever shared? NO!!!! Let me say NO one more time!!!
Right now that honor belongs to my wife and not because she is the worlds greatest kisser. If she is not she is real close. I think the greatest kiss for me and my wife has not even not taken place yet. It comes in five to six months. I think that honor will belong to the first kiss we lay on our first child's forehead. I think it will be the greatest kiss and if not I know it will be in the top two anyway.
I love you Royann and I miss you and baby Leflore tonight.
While thinking about my tradition I thought of another kiss that happened in my life. It was my first kiss. First kisses are long not forgotten by anyone. They are major moments that live with us forever even if we can't stand that person it was with. It always brings a smile to our face thinking of it. Mine was on July 2, 1989. I had gone with my Aunt and Uncle to my cousin's all-star baseball game. In the previous year of playing on these fields I was named league MVP, all-star myself, recorded the most home runs as a hitter and most strikeouts by a pitcher ever to hit or pitch in Holmes County. I was sort of a big man you could say. I was respected by old and young and male and female. I walked with a strut with my held high. When I showed up to this game a year later it was no different from when I was playing. Young does were running everywhere and everyone knew who the head buck was. I sat in the small bleachers away from the main stands where the parents sat where the teenagers were. Just breaking into the teen years I was cool enough at the time to hang with the fourteen and fifteen year olds. I had played with most of them and they knew and respected me for what I did on the field. As I sat down to watch the game I scoped out the women around me without them knowing I was looking. I gauged them and it was the same old women. Out of the corner of my eye I caught the most beautiful specimen a thirteen old had ever seen. She had blond hair with perfect bangs, short shorts, and was the most well endowed thirteen year old I had ever seen. She was a friend of a friend, which worked perfectly in my favor. I knew she would introduce us and talk me up before hand. I was in. I had never been nervous like this in my whole life. I think I even used my real name Bradley because I didn't want the name Rocky to scare her off. We talked the whole game sitting right there on the hill above the field. I don't think I saw a single pitch. The night and the game flew by. The only way I or her knew the game was over is because they started turning the lights off above the field. After the game she asked me to walk me to her friends mother's car. My strut turned into a limp. As we reached her ride and looked behind us at the darkness of the field that was once lit up and the droves of fans walking up to their own cars, I did what any nervous boy would do. I played the small talk card. We were just telling each other our deepest secrets not five minutes ago and I go to the small talk card. I use the small talk to avoid the inevitable, but it didn't work. She wrapped her arms around my neck and moved in. I remember thinking in the milliseconds before her lips met mine, I had never kissed a girl. I didn't know how to do it. I remember thinking do I turn right or turn left or go for the straight on kiss? I had overheard one time my brother saying something about the tongue, but I remember thinking that sounded both gross and dangerous. What if the woman bit it? What did you do with the tongue anyway? I knew I had seen a lot of people kiss on TV on the one channel we did get back then. I had seen wedding kisses. I had seen my Mom and Dad kiss. I did what any naive, country raised boy could do. I decided to go with the TV kiss,closed mouth but with fish motions. Almost like I was chewing a piece of food with my lips. I remember her tongue trying to cross the goal line, but I held it off with my tight lips motion. Wow! This girl was experienced I remember thinking. Just as I finished the kiss my little cousin "The Brat" we used to call her snuck around the car this girl had me pushed up against. She started screaming "Rocky is kissing a girl" over and over. So a lot of people became a part of my moment that night. She quickly said goodbye and jumped into the cranked car we were standing by. I don't know if it was the kiss or the gas fumes from the car that had me on cloud nine, but I could barely stand on my weak knees.
The ride home all I could think about was I didn't get her number or even her last name. Which it didn't matter anyway. We weren't allowed to make long distance phone calls. I knew she lived in Kosciusko and that was long distance from Tchula. Sorry kids no area calling back then. The game was the talk of the car for my uncle and cousin and my bratty little cousin just kept saying "Rocky was kissing! Shame! Shame! Shame!". I talked of this moment a lot with my cousins and friends and knew I would never see this girl again. I was in love. The next weekend as we gathered with family at my family's annual "Family Reunion" at Holmes County State Park. I got my wish. It was a big day in the park for a lot of families having their reunion. There was a tin cover roof every 100 feet with different families all gathering for their different respective families. Most other families we knew because they gathered on the same as the Killebrews each year. With the smell of fried chicken in the air and old people saying, "you are getting so big", I went through the story of that faithful night with my cousins. Just as I was finishing the story, I saw her. It was almost like God had answered my prayers. She was making her way down the hill to her families spot. She glowed like a angel. Her blond hair shining and tossing in the wind. I turned to my cousins and said there she is. It was almost like I was living in a dream. I swear I could hear a slow love song playing in my head as she walked down the hill. Is this really happening I remember thinking? Could her family and my family be in the same park on the same day? They were. She made her way down the hill to all the sectioned spots to where all the different families were gathered. The only problem was she came straight to my family's spot. I treaded lightly to get back to parents car without being noticed. I was only noticed by my cousins and their roaring laughter making fun of me for kissing my cousin. I had kissed my fifth or seventh cousin. It didn't matter to me. We were fruit of the same family tree even if she was an extended branch. I know what you are thinking, Is this the greatest kiss I have ever shared? NO!!!! Let me say NO one more time!!!
Right now that honor belongs to my wife and not because she is the worlds greatest kisser. If she is not she is real close. I think the greatest kiss for me and my wife has not even not taken place yet. It comes in five to six months. I think that honor will belong to the first kiss we lay on our first child's forehead. I think it will be the greatest kiss and if not I know it will be in the top two anyway.
I love you Royann and I miss you and baby Leflore tonight.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
Major Moments
Life is full of moments. Moments that change us. Moments that make us laugh, make us cry, make us make us mad, or make us smile. I love being part of major moments in peoples lives. I love to share those memories with them. In the hunting business I am in I get to share a lot of first with fathers and sons. I get to be part of the first duck they kill. Its exciting to see the kids as they jump up and down and give a round of high fives to everybody. Usually with tears rolling down father's faces I get to be in the first picture with the young hunter and his kill. I forever become a part of someone else's life. I think that is a major reason God puts us here. It is to share what He has given us to help make those major moments in other's lives.
Yesterday Royannn and I had the chance to become a part of another ones life. I have been an avid Ole Miss fan since I can remember. My dad trained us early to cheer for the boys in the red and blue. I can remember laying on the hood of my dad's truck after he would get home from work on Saturday afternoons in the fall and listening to them on the radio. It was our spot. It was tradition. The warmth of truck hood kept us warm most of the game even though sometimes it got really cold in the later November games. Money was something we didn't have a lot of growing up, so the radio was as close as I got to the rebels. When I got old enough though my dad took me to my first game. It was the Ole Miss/Arkansas game in 1983. It was played in Jackson, Ms. I remember walking to the stadium and hearing the shouts of hog fans. If you are a fan of the SEC then you know "Pig Souieee" and how many time hog fans cheer it before, after, and during a game. Walking out of the tunnel into the stadium was unreal to a seven year old that hadn't left the country community of Horseshoe except to go to school or a one in a while shopping trip to Greenwood. The only thing I had ever seen even close to that big with that many seats for fans was the Greenwood Civic Center. This monstrosity was a thousand times bigger than that to a seven year old. I remember thinking that stadium was the most awesome site I had ever seen. It was so big I gripped on to my Dad's hand like a overtightened pair of vice grips. I saw the players on the field, players that had always just been a numbers and names through the radio. I knew all of the names and numbers. Now with a game day program I could put a face with the names and number I knew so well. I remember sitting in the stands and let me say "high in the stands" wanting to go down and meet just a few of the players. I would have given anything just for an autograph or a wave from my favorite players. Ole Miss won that night 13-10 and solidified my commitment to the Rebels. I remember my dad hanging around after the game to hear "From Dixie With Love" which I have made a tradition of my own also. Royann and I will not leave until that song is finished after the game. She will tell you please don't talk to Rocky when that song is being played. He won't hear you anyway. I am living in a moment. I am seven again in Jackson, Ms. with my dad. I am there with him in Memorial Stadium. I am there watching a single tear as it rolls down his cheek. I am there gripping his hand. I am there wondering why my dad is emotional in a way that I had never seen. Then I return to the present and understand those moments while I listen. I find a tear going down my own cheek and the hair standing up on the back of my neck and thinking of that first game.
I had the opportunity to be part of a young man's first major moment of meeting the Rebels face to face yesterday. It was everything I remember it being at seven and more. Tristan Wiggins became a life long Rebel yesterday. He is young man much like me at seven, had never seen the Rebels live, but knew more about the Rebels than probably half of the fans at the game. Tristan is unlucky though that he doesn't have a Rebel father to train him in the way of the Rebels or take him to games like I did. His knowledge comes from the radio and games on T.V. just like me at seven. His life long dream he said was to see them play live. He got more than ballgame though. I took him to the walk of champions, band in the grove, and even to meet the players after the game. Royann and I have been lucky enough to befriend a lot of the players and coaches on the team and when they found out it was Tristan's first game and how big of a fan he was, Tristan had them wrapped around his finger. Eight-five high fives and autographs later Tristan was living in one of the major moments in life. What Royann and I and the Ole Miss players didn't understand at the time is we weren't giving something like a ticket or autograph, but Tristan was giving back to us. We were part of one of Tristan's moments. A moment that will live and can he can tell detail for detail as he gets older to all that will listen.
Here are some pictures to help remember Tristan's moments.
Tristan walking into the game.
Tristan with Jerrell Powe
Tristan with Jevan Snead
Tristan I hope to share my seats with you many times in the near future and make more memories with you my new Rebel buddy.
Yesterday Royannn and I had the chance to become a part of another ones life. I have been an avid Ole Miss fan since I can remember. My dad trained us early to cheer for the boys in the red and blue. I can remember laying on the hood of my dad's truck after he would get home from work on Saturday afternoons in the fall and listening to them on the radio. It was our spot. It was tradition. The warmth of truck hood kept us warm most of the game even though sometimes it got really cold in the later November games. Money was something we didn't have a lot of growing up, so the radio was as close as I got to the rebels. When I got old enough though my dad took me to my first game. It was the Ole Miss/Arkansas game in 1983. It was played in Jackson, Ms. I remember walking to the stadium and hearing the shouts of hog fans. If you are a fan of the SEC then you know "Pig Souieee" and how many time hog fans cheer it before, after, and during a game. Walking out of the tunnel into the stadium was unreal to a seven year old that hadn't left the country community of Horseshoe except to go to school or a one in a while shopping trip to Greenwood. The only thing I had ever seen even close to that big with that many seats for fans was the Greenwood Civic Center. This monstrosity was a thousand times bigger than that to a seven year old. I remember thinking that stadium was the most awesome site I had ever seen. It was so big I gripped on to my Dad's hand like a overtightened pair of vice grips. I saw the players on the field, players that had always just been a numbers and names through the radio. I knew all of the names and numbers. Now with a game day program I could put a face with the names and number I knew so well. I remember sitting in the stands and let me say "high in the stands" wanting to go down and meet just a few of the players. I would have given anything just for an autograph or a wave from my favorite players. Ole Miss won that night 13-10 and solidified my commitment to the Rebels. I remember my dad hanging around after the game to hear "From Dixie With Love" which I have made a tradition of my own also. Royann and I will not leave until that song is finished after the game. She will tell you please don't talk to Rocky when that song is being played. He won't hear you anyway. I am living in a moment. I am seven again in Jackson, Ms. with my dad. I am there with him in Memorial Stadium. I am there watching a single tear as it rolls down his cheek. I am there gripping his hand. I am there wondering why my dad is emotional in a way that I had never seen. Then I return to the present and understand those moments while I listen. I find a tear going down my own cheek and the hair standing up on the back of my neck and thinking of that first game.
I had the opportunity to be part of a young man's first major moment of meeting the Rebels face to face yesterday. It was everything I remember it being at seven and more. Tristan Wiggins became a life long Rebel yesterday. He is young man much like me at seven, had never seen the Rebels live, but knew more about the Rebels than probably half of the fans at the game. Tristan is unlucky though that he doesn't have a Rebel father to train him in the way of the Rebels or take him to games like I did. His knowledge comes from the radio and games on T.V. just like me at seven. His life long dream he said was to see them play live. He got more than ballgame though. I took him to the walk of champions, band in the grove, and even to meet the players after the game. Royann and I have been lucky enough to befriend a lot of the players and coaches on the team and when they found out it was Tristan's first game and how big of a fan he was, Tristan had them wrapped around his finger. Eight-five high fives and autographs later Tristan was living in one of the major moments in life. What Royann and I and the Ole Miss players didn't understand at the time is we weren't giving something like a ticket or autograph, but Tristan was giving back to us. We were part of one of Tristan's moments. A moment that will live and can he can tell detail for detail as he gets older to all that will listen.
Here are some pictures to help remember Tristan's moments.
Tristan walking into the game.
Tristan with Jerrell Powe
Tristan with Jevan Snead
Tristan I hope to share my seats with you many times in the near future and make more memories with you my new Rebel buddy.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
So i am a really bad blogger---
lots of changes have been going on at our house-baby on the way, job change, ole miss football season, 2 litters of lab puppies--did i say baby on the way. Oh yeah, i almost forgot.
this is what i have spent the last couple of months doing. it comes at any time-morning, noon and night. Whoever named it "morning sickness" lied-it is all the time. and just today-i had been several days without projectile things coming up the wrong way-it hit me at my sisters house-i woke up sick feeling. nothing but mucous and yellow bile. i think it is due to some major sinus drainage hitting my stomach but anyway, it was bad-had to lay back down before leaving for work. pepsi boy-my sisters dog-came and loved on me as i was hugging the toliet-it was sweet. i think he did this to her since she was sick for almost 10 months. its ok though-i usually cry everytime i vomit, but it is getting better but i will vomit everyday if that means this child will be healthy and great. at first i had stopped eating. my doctor said i could go 3 weeks without eating before i needed IVs if i could just stay hydrated. so then i found potato soup. i quit eating meat all together and really don't want anything but salad-olive garden is a big craving. wheat thins are good too. crackers hurt coming up and i about choked on a plain biscuit i had eated for breakfast. however, over the past couple of weeks since i've changed jobs, it hasn't been that bad-due in part to smells of animals -the only meat that i have eating in past 3 months is 2 steaks and some deer meat and a little grilled chicken and i ate a hamburger on saturday-GO ME!! i am super excited about getting back to eating things that aren't so hard to find on the road or cook. at last check i had lost 7 pounds.
i'm still ok with this baby-just not excited yet-i don't feel that i am ready. i had so much with my career that i really wanted to do and now, its fallen by the wayside. i'm slowing down some and am ok with that. but GOD knows the perfect time. i shouldn't question HIM-for HE know all. so in april we will welcome a sweet little child-we will go to the hospital with 2 names and a pink and blue outfit to come in and the other will go back to the store. aka-we aren't finding out what we are having. i have never wanted to know-the only excuse people give is that the showers won't be as fun-well boo hoo!! its exciting especially with this little surprise miracle and i feel we will spend less $$$$ if we don't know what it is. my sister had a little boy a day ago and our good friends down the road in morgan city had a precious girl 4 weeks ago-so what else do i need besides some little gowns-they can't go out in public all the time and don't need all of those clothes. we may change our mind, but right now- we aren't finding out.
duck season is a month away and so, so much has to be done. i don't know if we will get it all done. but we've got a lot of work to do.
and ole miss-disappointed is all i can say. we've got some tough games ahead of us for the next couple of weeks. hope the weather holds out for some good times-our last child free season.
until next time-i have lots to catch up on. royann
Tripp is here
Dennis Ray Buse III
(TRIPP)
born on November 2, 2009 at 1 am
6# 12 or 14 oz. (cant quite remember)
18 1/2 inches long
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
Molly Caroline Downing
cute invite designed by ashley buse
All Smiles-Molly will be decked out in fashion-Ralph Lauren jumpsuit
the hostess: Eleanor Braswell, Camille Hairston, Loren Walker, Amber Ferrell, me-the expecting mother-Crystal and baby Molly, my sister Ashley Buse-the next expecting with DRB III (name has not been decided on yet-only know that much), Caitlyn Champion-sister of expecting honoree, Kendall Kiker, Hattie Beth Lloyd and Mary Gregory Porter ( i hope spelling is correct-sorry if not)
the expecting mothers-only about 4 weeks apart
As you can tell this weekend was exciting at Mossy Island Outfitters lodge. A baby shower was given in honor of Molly Downing-It was great and she got tons of exciting, cute little pinkgirly things. A big shout out to my sister-Ashley for all the help cleaning and decorating at the lodge. It looks fabulous-now i only have to keep it clean. I'm not that great of a housekeeper- not great being an understatement- but i have been threatened with my life. I'm on the lookout for a maid-i have one in the radar, but i am not home enough to clean and am exhausted when i get home. I am also interested in a robot vacuum cleaner-anybody had any experience-good or bad-i have all concrete floors and finding a GOOD solid floor vacuum is hard to do and they are really $$$$$$.
on a side note-rocky was not a "big fan" of the girly flowers and pink netting around the
front door of "HIS" hunting lodge.
front door of "HIS" hunting lodge.
more interior pictures to come when i find my camera cord to upload.-enjoy
Monday, August 10, 2009
we're still here....
We've had a lot going on the past several months. Been working on the lodge-i don't think it will ever get done, slow internet-hopefully DSL will be much faster and in the big house now. Summer time is a really busy time for me at work. Adding on the screened porch and finishing the decks. lost my camera cord so i haven't been able to download pictures in year. went to ole miss ladies forum-it was great and really got me fired up about football season. the crops are getting ready-not much cotton if any. only thing good about that is that morgan city won't be soo dusty from the gin. we have to roll'em up when its ginning season. lots of babies being born and on the way. had crystal downings baby shower at the lodge yesterday-beautiful day with lots of people and great gifts. it turned out really nice. i can't wait for the lodge to get near finished. Market is this weekend in tupelo. going up wednesday night with mom for some early shopping. will see how much money i have to spend.
i will try to post more later.
royann
i will try to post more later.
royann
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Tess- the Incredible
From Sunday's Outdoors section of the Clarion-Ledger
Almost a dog-gone shame
Emergency work, MSU save head-shot Lab
From special reports • February 17, 2009
Tess had 26 shotgun pellets in her head from a hunting accident in December, as the X-ray from Mississippi State shows, but she survived to hunt again for owner Steve Horn of Madison before the duck season ended.
STARKVILLE — Shot in the head, with a pellet in the middle of its brain, things looked bleak for Steve Horn's young hunting partner, Tess, an 18-month-old Labrador retriever in December.
But with quick thinking by Horn, emergency help from a Delta veterinarian and continued care by Mississippi State University's College of Veterinary Medicine (CVM), Tess not only survived but hunted again by duck season's end.
Tess was accidentally shot in the head with a shotgun while on a Delta duck hunt early one Sunday morning in December. "As soon as she was shot, she began swimming to me," said Horn, of Madison. "I waded out to get her and scooped her up and we put her in a boat. She got really cold and went into a deep shock." Horn performed CPR on Tess and noted her rapid breathing but strong heartbeat. He wrapped her in his heavy hunting coat to warm her as her body temperature dropped.
Back at his truck, Horn raced Tess to Dr. Royann Leflore at the Greenwood Animal Hospital. Leflore and staff warmed the dog, gave it steroids and antibiotics and stabilized her with intravenous drips for the emergency truck ride to MSU.
Dr. Christine Bryan, an intern in CVM's Clinical Sciences Department, was the primary veterinarian who managed Tess' care. "At the time of her arrival and assessment, I gave Tess a grave prognosis for survival and an even worse prognosis for a semi-normal life as a pet," Bryan said. "I told the owners that if she survived, I felt that she would never be able to hunt again, but hopefully she would be able to be a house pet."
CVM staff gave Tess medication to reduce brain swelling, sedate her and prevent seizures. They placed her on oxygen and gave intravenous fluids to maintain her blood pressure and keep her hydrated. She received pain medication and was X-rayed.
The results were scary. "The (X-rays) revealed approximately 26 pellets around the skull," Bryan said.
On the second day, a CT scan showed a shotgun pellet in the dead center of her brain.
"The CT scan revealed that one pellet had penetrated her skull at about the middle left lateral aspect of her brain and was situated between the two hemispheres," Bryan said. "If the pellet had not followed its exact trajectory, it could have caused more extensive brain damage, lacerated a blood vessel, penetrated both brain hemispheres or caused uncontrollable hemorrhage in the brain."
On Day 2, the staff continued to give Tess medications to prevent seizures, to reduce brain swelling and to keep her sedated. She was given antibiotic ointment in both eyes to treat an ulcer on her left eye.
That night she began eating a little bit.
By Day 3, Tess could curl into a typical resting dog pose, but she could neither sit nor stand.
The CVM staff continued her medications, intravenous fluids and oxygen, and Tess continued to eat soft food and began drinking water.
On Day 4, she pulled herself to a sitting position and an hour later began walking, although she was unsteady and her head tilted to the right. Doctors removed Tess' oxygen and took her off the seizure and brain swelling medications.
By Day 5, Tess was walking with only a slight head tilt and could eat, drink and relieve herself normally.
On Day 6, she was released to her owners with medications and specific instructions on how to continue her therapy and rehabilitation at home.
"She had improved so much in those six days that we determined she would be able to have a great quality of life," Bryan said. "She still had some neurological deficiencies, and was unsteady when she walked and did not appear confident when stepping up or down."
When she left, Tess' prognosis was that she would be able to function well as a pet and possibly could run, swim and hunt again one day.
"For the first two weeks she was unstable on the wood floors at home and didn't want to go up steps, but she's totally normal now," Horn said. "She is hunting as good as ever and doesn't appear to know what happened to her."
Horn said he was not surprised at Tess' recovery because of the care she received from both the Greenwood veterinarian and MSU's veterinary college.
"Everyone should have an emergency plan when they go out hunting. I had no idea what to do when the accident happened," Horn said. "Everybody should know where the nearest veterinarian is located and have an emergency phone number for the clinic.
"They also should have an emergency plan and know how to contact the vet school."
http://www.clarionledger.com/article/20090217/SPORTS08/902150317/1025
Almost a dog-gone shame
Emergency work, MSU save head-shot Lab
From special reports • February 17, 2009
Tess had 26 shotgun pellets in her head from a hunting accident in December, as the X-ray from Mississippi State shows, but she survived to hunt again for owner Steve Horn of Madison before the duck season ended.
STARKVILLE — Shot in the head, with a pellet in the middle of its brain, things looked bleak for Steve Horn's young hunting partner, Tess, an 18-month-old Labrador retriever in December.
But with quick thinking by Horn, emergency help from a Delta veterinarian and continued care by Mississippi State University's College of Veterinary Medicine (CVM), Tess not only survived but hunted again by duck season's end.
Tess was accidentally shot in the head with a shotgun while on a Delta duck hunt early one Sunday morning in December. "As soon as she was shot, she began swimming to me," said Horn, of Madison. "I waded out to get her and scooped her up and we put her in a boat. She got really cold and went into a deep shock." Horn performed CPR on Tess and noted her rapid breathing but strong heartbeat. He wrapped her in his heavy hunting coat to warm her as her body temperature dropped.
Back at his truck, Horn raced Tess to Dr. Royann Leflore at the Greenwood Animal Hospital. Leflore and staff warmed the dog, gave it steroids and antibiotics and stabilized her with intravenous drips for the emergency truck ride to MSU.
Dr. Christine Bryan, an intern in CVM's Clinical Sciences Department, was the primary veterinarian who managed Tess' care. "At the time of her arrival and assessment, I gave Tess a grave prognosis for survival and an even worse prognosis for a semi-normal life as a pet," Bryan said. "I told the owners that if she survived, I felt that she would never be able to hunt again, but hopefully she would be able to be a house pet."
CVM staff gave Tess medication to reduce brain swelling, sedate her and prevent seizures. They placed her on oxygen and gave intravenous fluids to maintain her blood pressure and keep her hydrated. She received pain medication and was X-rayed.
The results were scary. "The (X-rays) revealed approximately 26 pellets around the skull," Bryan said.
On the second day, a CT scan showed a shotgun pellet in the dead center of her brain.
"The CT scan revealed that one pellet had penetrated her skull at about the middle left lateral aspect of her brain and was situated between the two hemispheres," Bryan said. "If the pellet had not followed its exact trajectory, it could have caused more extensive brain damage, lacerated a blood vessel, penetrated both brain hemispheres or caused uncontrollable hemorrhage in the brain."
On Day 2, the staff continued to give Tess medications to prevent seizures, to reduce brain swelling and to keep her sedated. She was given antibiotic ointment in both eyes to treat an ulcer on her left eye.
That night she began eating a little bit.
By Day 3, Tess could curl into a typical resting dog pose, but she could neither sit nor stand.
The CVM staff continued her medications, intravenous fluids and oxygen, and Tess continued to eat soft food and began drinking water.
On Day 4, she pulled herself to a sitting position and an hour later began walking, although she was unsteady and her head tilted to the right. Doctors removed Tess' oxygen and took her off the seizure and brain swelling medications.
By Day 5, Tess was walking with only a slight head tilt and could eat, drink and relieve herself normally.
On Day 6, she was released to her owners with medications and specific instructions on how to continue her therapy and rehabilitation at home.
"She had improved so much in those six days that we determined she would be able to have a great quality of life," Bryan said. "She still had some neurological deficiencies, and was unsteady when she walked and did not appear confident when stepping up or down."
When she left, Tess' prognosis was that she would be able to function well as a pet and possibly could run, swim and hunt again one day.
"For the first two weeks she was unstable on the wood floors at home and didn't want to go up steps, but she's totally normal now," Horn said. "She is hunting as good as ever and doesn't appear to know what happened to her."
Horn said he was not surprised at Tess' recovery because of the care she received from both the Greenwood veterinarian and MSU's veterinary college.
"Everyone should have an emergency plan when they go out hunting. I had no idea what to do when the accident happened," Horn said. "Everybody should know where the nearest veterinarian is located and have an emergency phone number for the clinic.
"They also should have an emergency plan and know how to contact the vet school."
http://www.clarionledger.com/article/20090217/SPORTS08/902150317/1025
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Happy Signing Day!!!
For those of you that don't know- tomorrow, well actually in less than 12 hours is NATIONAL SIGNING DAY!!!!! I know you thinking I've gone off the deep end, but really, tomorrow changes the lives of many aspiring young men and the course of the next 4-5 years of college football. Who is your favorite school going to get? At our house, duck season was over 9 days ago, so for the past 9 days, this has been our hunt. Who are we going to get. How many stars do they have (the rank of these players on a national scale). Sunday brought my husbands blackberry buzzing with 4 amazing and exciting recruits. Over the course of the Ed Orgeron era-(the good: the recruits, the bad: the losses and the ugly: 4th and 1 up against state and changes the entire momentum of the game that we Lose) my eyes were opened to this exciting, unbelievable year-long process of recruiting and its importance on the future of your football program. ESPN writer Bruce Fieldman spent over a year tagging along with the Ole Miss Coach-known for being the top college recruiter in the nation and the rest of the Ole Miss staff as they struggle to catch the eye of the nationals top senior prospects. The book is called Meat Market: Inside the Smash-Mouth World of College Football Recruiting. I read it in 3 days. It sucked me in-i loved it. Following these recruits and not knowing how much they will help or hurt your program for the next 4-5 years is gut retching. I was on pins and needles through the whole book. Anyway, back to tomorrow, our school (Ole Miss) has recruiting party's all day long along with it being on ESPN. these kids have a lot hanging on their decision and fans are sitting on the edge of their seats waiting on their decisions. For the past weeks all my husband is doing is worried about who we are going to get and who everyone is stealing away from us. I am anxious and excited about tomorrow but will be at work, so i will not have a constant feed about what these 17 and 18 year old kids decide to do. Hopefully we will get who we want and all will be good at Mossy Island, but if not, Thursday will still come. If your interested in reading another book, that was amazing and such a life-changing experience about a recruit is by Micheal Lewis. Its called The BLIND SIDE: THE EVOLUTION OF A GAME. It follows the life of Micheal Oher- a once homeless kid in Memphis that in a course of several months becomes one of the top national prospects in the college football world. This poor kid doesn't even exist but has thousands of letters offering him scholarships to any college that he wanted to go to. He takes you through the big dawgs of the SEC (BAMA and Tennessee) in recruiting and and in his decision making (ultimately choosing OLE MISS where he was an ALL-American and should be on the of the top kids taken in the NFL draft in April).
Well to all-HAPPY RECRUITING and Happy National Signing Day-may your husbands be happy with the decisions of teenagers that will affect college football for the next 4 years.
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Watch Mossy Island Outfitters tonight on the Outdoor Channel
Check out the guides at Mossy Island Outfitters tonight on The Outdoor Channel as they take the pro staffers from Primo's on some exciting duck hunts. As seen in PRIMO's the Truth about Hunting Series--Incoming 7 video.
We are already booking hunts for the 2009-2010 season!! Call today to get your date secured!
http://mossyislandoutfitters.com
http://primos.com
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