Archive for the ‘Interesting Folk’ Category

Last weekend, while in San Francisco, we headed to the Ferry Building and wharf area in search of a few sursies to take home to our kids. On the way we passed a remarkable talent, John F. King II.

This guy was rockin’ y’all. He’s got skills. Or is it skilz?

Anyway, John was turnin’ the beat around. He was movin’ and groovin’ – definitely to the beat of his own drums, much of which was junk, or what most would consider trash.

(Okay, is the droppin’ the “g” and addin’ an apostrophe botherin’ you yet?)

You have to wonder if the people who threw out some of this stuff out would be surprised at what joyful sounds come from it now? One man’s trash…

I was so enthralled with his energy and performance that I didn’t read his signs until I got home and viewed the pictures. Look he’s got a website.

You can watch videos, hear audio and read more about John here at Kingdrums.com. He’s even got a mission statement – that’s more than I have. And if you have kids be sure to show them some of the videos. Fun stuff. You never know, it may inspire an impromptu jam session in your own kitchen.

If you’re ever in San Francisco during the weekend, look for John and his drums near the Ferry Building. And don’t forget to tell him you like his hat!

So, have you met or seen anyone that inspires you lately? Do share…

Hey y’all! Meet Randy. He’s my husband. You may have had the pleasure to see and hear Randy sing about some really yummy muffins in this post, or sing with our daughter in this post, but today he’s gonna tell you a story.

A little background, Randy grew up on a farm in beautiful, rural NC. Up until just a few years ago, his family grew soybeans, wheat, corn, and barley. They also had a few head of cattle from time to time and back in the 70’s raised pigs. It was a fun place to be a child – never a dull moment.

Over the years I’ve had the pleasure of hearing his stories and thought he should begin to share them with you too. Please give a warm welcome to Randy and hopefully he’ll tell us some more stories real soon.

(All photos in this post were found at morguefile.com – for free!)

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Back in the summer of ‘79 we had an infestation of army worms in the soybeans. The plants were too tall to get a sprayer rig through the field without damaging the plants so we had to hire a crop duster plane. This was a big deal. Crop dusting was not common in our part of the world. As you can imagine, my two brothers and I were very excited about seeing the plane so close flying over the bean fields.

The pilot was quite a character. His name was Buster. Buster the duster. We had a chance to meet Buster the day before. I asked him how low he would fly and he said when he was done he’d have some bean leaves on his landing gear.

The soybeans were waist high to an adult. They were dark green and thick. The tops of the plants were grown together between the rows.

Our family picked a nice grassy spot to stand in a safe distance away from the field where we were going to have a great view. We were so excited. In the distance we could hear the low hum of Buster’s engine. He’s almost here. Just then we noticed movement out in the field.

It was our neighbor, Wilbur Hawken, walking in the soybean field shirtless but with a hat. Wilbur had been known to imbibe a little too much from time to time and take a stroll through the field. This day was no exception. But this, this was awful timing. We could hear the plane getting closer. We waved arms frantically and yelled, “Wilbur get out of the field, a plane is coming!” Somehow Wilbur mistook our screams and waving. He turned our way and gave a big neighborly enthusiastic wave back.

Louder and louder the drone of the duster engine grew. We were terrified for Wilbur but were afraid to get any closer to the field. We kept yelling and waving. My brothers and I started running around with our arms straight out mimicking a plane and pointing at the sky trying to convey the message of danger from above. It was like a long distance game of charades with a partner who had surrendered most of his faculties. We couldn’t get the message across.

Buster and his duster were now over the far side of the field swiftly on a collision course with Wilbur’s head. We ever more frantically waved, screamed and danced our plane dances.

The plane drew nearer and nearer. At the last possible moment, Wilbur turned toward the quickly advancing plane and the pesticide cloud trailing it. Wilbur dove to the ground just as the plane wheels brushed the tops of the plants right over him.

A moment later, terrified and confused, Wilbur poked his dusty head out from the beans. He looked around quickly, then bent down to retrieve his hat and then like a bunny in a snowdrift hopped ungracefully to the edge of the field for safety.

Thankfully Wilbur suffered no ill health effects from the episode. In fact, he swore he never had a problem with head lice or chiggers again.

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Do you have any cautionary tales you can share? Or safety tips?

(All photos in this post were found at morguefile.com – for free!)

I love looking at old pictures. Always have. Lately it seems a lot of old photos from both sides of our family have been popping up.

This is one of my favorites. It’s of my husbands maternal grandparents, Ruth and Lee (we call them Mamaw and Papaw.) They’re so stylish, Lee with his brimmed hat and Ruth in her hip heels – some would love to get their hands on those today. Don’t they just look so in love? My husband thinks they have a mischievous look on their faces but I think they just look happy.

Mamaw passed away a little over a year ago and we’ve all missed her terribly, especially Papaw. He never failed to show his love for her, always speaking words of love to her for all of us to hear – never anything cross. I was happy to be a witness to the testament of the vows they took long ago being lived out for all of us to see.

Mamaw was spunky and feisty and a wonderful story teller. My husband tells how he felt as if he was the greatest thing ever when around her because she always made sure to make you feel like you were the best at everything. And look at those legs! No wonder Papaw is smiling so.

Sometimes I think we forget that our parents, grandparents or any of our elders were once young, in love, stylish and maybe a little mischievous too. I’m glad we have this old photo. For me the only difference in Mamaw and Papaw in this photo and how they were the day Mamaw passed is how they looked on the outside. This will always be a constant reminder to me of our never failing youth, that’s always there, even though we may start to ache, wrinkle and sag a little.

What memories do you have to share? What ways do you remember those dear to you?