Monday, November 13, 2006

Two Hot Chicks

My little Chick-a-dees

Every photo has a story and boy does this one: In 1957, when Bobby was 10 years old, he got two baby chicks for Easter from the Northgate Shopping Center in Frayser. Back then, the chicks were dyed different colors. When the family moved from Woodrow Street to the corner of Nunnelee Street and Debby Street, Bobby brought one of those chicks with him, (the other one had been eaten by their neighbor's dog). The chick lived to be an old rooster, who was better than having a dog. They didn't have a backyard fence so he would run off all the stray kids cutting through their yard by chasing them and pecking their legs. At night, he would roost in a backyard tree. He never left the back yard. He lived a lot of years and froze to death one winter.

OK now, fast forward to 11 years later (1968)...

Bobby was on military leave staying with his parents. He had borrowed his Dad's car and went out drinking, proudly for the first time, dressed in his class A military uniform, drove to the "Dynasty" Lounge on North Watkins. On the way back home, at around 2:00 AM (drunk driving), Bobby ran off the road on Frayser Blvd with the car plowing into a fence. He made a pretty good size hole in the fence. There was a big dog in their yard and in Bobby's drunk mind, wasn't about to get out of the car so he drove back out the same hole he made coming in and drove home. Well, he had dropped his service hat. (it had the service number written inside of it). During the impact with the fence, Bobby dented up the passenger side of the car, the side where his Dad wouldn't notice the damage (until he was gone back to Texas). Well, the day before Bobby was to ship out, a knock on the door brought 2 policemen, and in one of their hands was his service cap (BUSTED!) So, he had to get an Extension of Leave so he could go to court on 'Leaving the Scene of an Accident' charge, (But no DUI).

Now back to the case of the other
dead baby chick when Bobby was 10...

When Bobby got to court and went in front of the judge, he was suprised to see the judge was his old neighbor from Woodrow Street? And the Judge recognized Bobby! Well, the court proceding was continuing on when the Judge leaned over and asked Bobby, "is there anything you would like to say in you defense"?

And then Bobby said in a low whisper......

"Yes, your honor, do you remember when your dog ate my baby chicken?" The Judge then looked over his glasses as the gavel came down, hitting the surface hard and said, "Case dismissed"!

That's a true story!! Bobby got off them charges because the judge's dog ate his baby chicken when he was a 10 year old kid!!

But, that's not the end of it...

Now, Fast Forward to 45 years later...

The people, whose yard and fence Bobby tore up (plus their dog got out and his Dad had to pay for all the damages), now go to Bobby's church!! They moved from Frayser to Barlett! They laugh everytime Bobby tells this story! Bobby forgets how he pieced it all together? CSI Frayser?

Bobby's got a lot of crazy stories like this one, that has happened to him over the years and may wind up here on his BLOG. His advice is not to try any of these at home as you may not get the same results.

*Footnote: Bobby eventually straightened up his life and recovered from his wild and crazy drinking days and now is active in his church and helping struggling alcoholics to recover from alcoholism.

Saturday, November 11, 2006

22nd Already?

Happy 22nd Birthday!

I would like to wish my youngest son Christopher, a happy 22nd birthday. When I was his age, I shipped out to the Vietnam War. I am glad he lives in freedom and don't have to fight in a war like his Dad did (no draft in Canada). All of my American born Canadian Children were born on American Holidays. Rob, Father's Day and Mandy, Memorial Day. I told the doctor when Chris was going to be born based on my two previous children. I told him Chris should be arriving on the 11th of November, Veteran's Day, (Remembrance Day in Canada). And sure enough, he was born on 11-11-04, Christopher Michael Sowell, born in Memphis, Tennessee, making this Vietnam vet a happy farther. His middle name, Michael came from his uncle Michael (my two year younger brother) who drowned at the age of 10 in 1958, one day before Easter. Chris likes to play music and is learning to play the guitar. I think he's got a keyboard too. (perhaps he has gotten musical talent from his Dad).

Chrisopher left Memphis, Tennessee when he was just under two years old and grew up in Niagara Falls, Ontario Canada along with his sister and brother, Mandy and Robby, where they all reside at now. I hope to see Chris in the near future. I will call him today later on today. Happy Birthday Chris from your Dad.

Chris was born in Memphis, Tennessee

It's Veteran's Day Too...


Wednesday, November 08, 2006

What is it?

Spam, what is it? Definition: Spam is any message, pop-up, ad, email or posting, regardless of it's content, that is sent to recipients who have not specifically requested it. Usually, spam comes from someone who you don't know or it could be a friend or family member but then you know how to handle them or send them a reply email to stop it. Personally, I hate them annoying popups followed by unwanted emails from places I don't even know.

Why would anyone buy something from anyone who spams them? I don't know about everyone else but I would never buy anything from spammers. Besides being annoying, in your face advertising makes me mad and for that reason alone, I would never order anything from them. It would be like going to the mall and all of a sudden, a person from Dillards runs up and screams in your face about their sale specials. I would like to know who buys stuff from spammers? Do they really? Apparently, people do or they wouldn't spam anyone. Or is it's just a ploy to get you to buy anti-spam and spyware software from Internet giants? And to make it look like a good deal when your Internet provider throws in a free spam blocker when they'er the main suspects. Makes one wonder, doesn't it?

Be weary of spam notices like the one below. Most of them are dead links. Where do they get you email address? From many different sources. They buy your email address from different lists. Whenever you visit any website or page, they got you! Their new spam techniques are getting slick too. Now they can spam your guestbook and fax. Never reply to unsolicited e-mail with a "remove" request since this only validates to a spammer that your address is current.

Happy surfing!

Click here for more Spam Information

Monday, November 06, 2006

Tail of three Monkeys

My friend recently sent me a funny email joke about persimmons which brought memories from my childhood and youth, and promped me to write this BLOG concerning persimmon trees and monkeys.

Growing up on Woodrow Street in Frayser, we had 13 persimmon trees in our back yard. I know personally the effects of eating them green. I remember Possum Miller (Miller Auto Sales, Hwy 51 in Atoka) was our neighbor. He had gotten a monkey for Christmas but the monkey escaped and lived in the 13 persimmon trees in our back yard. He never could be caught and lived in them trees for about 5 years until one winter he froze to death. But during his lifetime, he used to pick persimmons off the trees and throw them at us kids whenever we were in the back yard. His aim got to be pretty good. He was paying us back for constantly teasing him. He use to mess with us too by sneaking up to the back door and knocking on it, then running back to the trees. He sorta liked me because I would sneak a banana and give it to him. He was too smart to come close. I had to leave it under the tree and go far enough away for him to come down and grab the banana. Whenever we had a picnic in the back yard, he would go bannans and throw them persimmons at us kids. But, I think he liked me as I made sure he had some watermelon.

My next encounter with a monkey was when I attended Memphis Academy of Arts in 1967, (I had won a scholarship). The class had gone to the zoo to learn how to draw tigers and lions quickly. Well, I wandered off and wound up going to the monkey house. I had heard a rumor that one of them monkeys smoked cigarettes. My curiosity got to me, so I took out a cigarette and was flaunting it to all the monkeys. Sure enough, this one monkey went bananas and wanted my cigarette. Well, I lit it and gave it to him. He was one happy monkey as he was swinging and smoking! However, a zoo attendant came in and I got busted and escorted out the front gate!

That monkey story leads me to yet another one. It was Vietnam in 1969 and my roommate had gotten a monkey from a local Vietnamese guy. The monkey lived in our hooch, but this monkey was an alcoholic. He was always dressed up in a vest and cowboy hat. He had a best friend who was a dog. You could not have a drink of whiskey without him having one. He also smoked. It was funny watching that monkey. He use to get drunk and jump on the dog and ride him like a horse. The monkey lived there during my whole tour of duty. He was a friendly monkey as long as he had a drink and a cigarette. I often wondered about his fate? He most likely died of cirrhosis or lung cancer.

I took this B&W photo back in 1969
where the monkey and I lived.

So, what did I learn from my monkey experiences?
That one monkey don't stop the show!!

Watch a smoking addicted monkey video