Cranks My Tractor

A Strange White Substance

Recently, a friend of mine told me his daughter was stopped by airport security in Charleston, South Carolina, because they thought she was a “mule.” Knowing this fellow well and his daughter since she was tiny, I first needed clarification of what a mule was and why someone would think this nice college freshman was a mule.

I know that a mule is what you get when you cross a female horse and a male donkey and they are hardworking and Clint Eastwood paired up with Shirley MacLaine in the movie “Two Mules for Sister Sarah.” The pairing of Eastwood and MacLaine bothered me in later years and didn’t really help me with my mule problem.

Stubbornness is associated with mules, but I don’t think they simply stop you in security lines for being stubborn unless you are not cooperating with them by letting them see all your underwear and baggage and what you are taking on the plane. I asked him, “Was she not cooperating with them?” He noted that she was very cooperative, but that they were very concerned with the strange white substance that she was taking on the plane with her.

When to Bet

He was 25 years-old and on a ship, a destroyer to be specific. The Sullivans was a “Fletcher-class” destroyer that saw action during World War II and the Korean War. I know these things, not only because I read them, but because my Daddy told me.

“I fired the gun, the one on the front.” I suppose he did, I had no reason to question my Daddy – he was a bit rough around the edges, but he was honest and you wanted him on your side when there were situations which called for tough sailors.

On Christmas Day in 1952, The Sullivans scored direct hits on an important railroad bridge in North Korea. Enemy guns failed to hit the destroyer, yet “showered the warship’s decks with shell fragments.” Daddy had told me once, “Yes, they shot at us.” I suppose they did.

The Florida Cowboy Pilot (who also fixes legs)

A week or so ago, I had a wonderful experience with a fellow who had been reading some of stories online. He sent me an email noting how much he enjoyed my stories about rural Florida, specifically the Florida Panhandle and Vernon, Florida, which I have written much about.

He was simply writing to say thanks for defending folks out in the rural areas who are a lot better off than people think they are. Country folks usually keep their mouths shut about such things, because they know if they start bragging about it, crowds, strip malls and people who don’t appreciate homemade orange marmalade will start moving into the area. Then… “Poof” – It’s all over.

It’s not unusual for me to get emails about my writing. I enjoy hearing from folks who enjoy reading my take on life. However, it’s not every day that you get an email from a cowboy, astronaut, pilot, actor or hit man.

This fellow who wrote to me has been all of those things. Well, I should clarify and say that he is an actor and has played multiple bad guy or hit man roles and even was the astronaut who piloted the shuttle trying to destroy the “Tree of Souls” in the movie, Avatar.

Little Pink Legs

Drinking more water, eating all the spinach and bananas I can consume and taking shots of apple cider vinegar do not seem to be curing the pains I am experiencing in my legs. Sometimes they hurt when I’m walking, sometimes when I’m doing absolutely nothing. And yes, I’ve told my doctor about it (I have to say such things or I get calls from concerned family members).

Nothing is showing up in my blood work or x-rays, but I know we will figure it out sooner or later. From time to time, they just hurt.

The other afternoon I was cutting the grass with instructions from the “hole-punching” fellow to cut it low and get all of the clippings picked up. The hole-punching fellow? You know, the fellow with the loud machine that pokes holes in your yard so they can plant more grass and give your grass room to breathe. After he is finished, your lawn has those dirt cylinders all over it and it looks like a flock of ginormous geese have had a big party in your yard.

Crazy in Alabama

My legs hurt, my stomach hurts, I’ve lost my appetite and I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to read anything, listen to anything related to the latest news or even turn on a television or computer. I want to eat coconut – I hate coconut, but when I feel bad I want to eat things I do not like to eat. Perhaps a Mounds candy bar or an Almond Joy – they have coconut in them don’t they? Why not a coconut “bunny cake” with those pink construction paper ears and cutesy jelly bean eyes and nose.

Cut me a big piece and make me eat it…

When you grew up in the South and understand what it’s like to live in a ghost town on a Friday night because everyone is at the high school football game and have been there since 4 or 5 in the afternoon waiting on a 7 PM kickoff – you will understand what I am about to say. The two “major” college football teams in the state I grew up in, lost this past weekend and I’m kind of glad that I’m not down there right now.

Where have you gone Fried Green Tomatoes?

My bad cholesterol is high, my good cholesterol is low; my prized cast iron skillets seem to cry when I brown “beet burgers” where fried okra and catfish used to dance and play. The closest thing to fried green tomatoes I’ve had lately is watching the movie based on Fannie Flagg’s book.

Parts of that movie bother me, parts of it make me happy, and thus, I suppose it is a good movie because it is very similar to our day to day lives. I’ve been to the place where they filmed the movie – the little restaurant in Juliette, Georgia, and it will always be one of my favorite places.

The movie feeds my heart, but leaves my stomach yearning for thick sliced bacon, fried eggs and those green tomatoes dancing on the floor of one my cast iron skillets. Haven’t you ever had fried green tomatoes for breakfast? The hair on my arms stands up just thinking about it.

The Manistique Miracle

Some folks include skydiving, backpacking across Europe and taking exotic cruises on their bucket lists. Others want to ride in a hot air balloon, see the Northern Lights or experience New Year’s Eve at Times Square in New York City.

You may not think it’s exciting, but I wanted a teapot just like Ms. Fannie Lou’s in Vernon, Florida. Ms. Fannie Lou is the woman who invited me into her house in Vernon when I originally went back to see if Vernon still held the magic it did when my Papa and I used to visit when I was a little boy.

Papa would say, “Let’s go to Vernon,” and we would go. We would get there to the sleepy little town on the Florida Panhandle and get out of the car with my Papa’s little dog. He would say, “We’re in Vernon now.”

Billy Bob and the Purple Crayon

I looked at the picture…

Standing beside my Cousin John was what seemed to be a beautiful blonde haired girl holding a football and wearing a football uniform. The child seemed to be 11 or 12 years old.

I looked at the picture closer and didn’t make reference to my thinking the football player was a girl.

I love looking at pictures of Cousin John because his facial features look so much like my Daddy. You can tell by looking at him, he’s kind, but not the type of fellow you would want to cross.

Dr. Walker & "The Chair"

Our minister made a comment this morning during church that wasn’t directed at anyone in particular; I think he was just making a point of how folks are remembered when they leave this life. He said something to the effect of, “Living a life that made a difference.”

I understood what he meant.

If my time to go is tomorrow, I would like to think that I made a difference for folks who knew me (and I was trying to help). This minister was a “relief preacher” of sorts, being the Associate Pastor who comes in when our head fellow has to go out of town or needs a break.

I like him.

The Mattress Kid

Life can be difficult, cruel and unfair. There are times when I want to talk to my Daddy, but he has been gone for more than ten years. I know what he would say; I know how he would say it. I can almost hear his voice.

There are times I need to hear a “Daddy voice.”

Today was one of those days.

Who do I call?

I decided to call the fellow who knew me when I was full of …. Well, I was full of myself. I called my high school football coach. He seemed to always know the right thing to say when the situation was difficult.