Its Time to Move On ..

Sitting here in the home office... I was reading an article in the magazine "64 Parishes". It's a publication that is produced quarterly by the Louisiana Endowments for the Humanities.  It's a good publication with a broad spectrum of Louisiana Arts and History.  

As I was reading it, I began to think of the need to move on down the Road; leave behind the events that somewhat overshadowed myself for yesterday, etc. 

Seeing Louisiana and all its history, governed by France, then Spain, then France again, then for a short period by the English, in 1803 the Louisiana Purchase happened.  The rest is history in the making, and so forth.

As the song says, "get on down the line, boy."

So, I dialed up the Family that grows the best sweet potatoes in the Red River Alluvial Floodplain.  It happens to be in Avoyelles Parish.   I asked if they were "pulling sweet potatoes yet. The reply was, "No, sir.  However, we will begin right after Labor Day. Would you like us to put you on the list this year? How many crates do you want?" I answered back 6 crates.    So, I will plan to make a road trip down to the Free State of Avoyelles Parish in about two weeks.  Pick up my 6 crates and hand them out to family and friends here in the Lil City by the Red. 

I will be posting photographs of my trip down that way soon.

Moving on down the road.

A Blind Eye .... Opened !!!.. Both Eyes Open !

 Sometimes in Life... You look upon a person with a Blind Eye... knowing that change hopefully occurred 

With all friendships, there are times when you cast a blind eye, hoping that matters of personal tribulations have been modified, changed for the better, ..... But (and there is always a but)... to view a person, you must be cognizant of past behaviors; one must not judge; however, one must have both eyes fully open and understand that change sometimes doesn't occur.

Yesterday, J-Man, whom I have known for a very long time, but whom I haven't seen in almost a year, has not opened both of his eyes to a realization.

Last night he was supposed to arrive here at my house in the Lil City by the Red.  In the evening time, there was communication by text, then verbal communication, all saying he was still arriving.

As the evening drew to a close, bedtime approached; still, no J-Man.  In the late evening, he called; he was coming; however, things were not working out for his arrival.

I told him not to worry; we would connect this morning.  He asked me, if I could come down and pick him up, his vehicle was not working.  "Sure" I said. To foster an old friendship, I left the Lil City by the Red, at 735am. It's about an hour's drive, 56 miles, to his home.   On the way down south, through the sugar cane fields, open flat land, the red dirt of the Red River floodplain, I traveled.

To make a long story short, on the trip south, he called and wanted a few dollars, etc.  That was the first sign of trouble; the second sign stopped me in my quest to revive this old friendship. 

J-Man asked if I was sober; I thought and had heard that he was.   

He indicated to me that he had fallen terribly hard and was consumed with ChemSex... 

I stopped my truck, turned around, and headed back home.  I was not going to participate or indulge myself, on any level, with Meth and Sex.

I came home and, in the ensuing conversation, wished him well. I told him I hoped he would get his Life back to normalcy.  I would not participate with him at any level. Period.

A Friend For a Friday

 Since starting my journey, I haven't built friendships or made any new acquaintances, so to speak.

Several months ago, an old friend I met a fair amount of time ago texted me to ask how I was doing, how the path was going, etc.  His Name is J 'Man. Pure 100% Acadian i.e. Cajun. Pure French.  Fiery, opinionated, Completly Honest. He is a baker; he makes the best cakes, does a good amount of business at times, etc.  

He would come up from the deep lowlands of South Louisiana to visit other folks in the Lil City by the Red from time to time.  As the years passed, he faced some life issues, and he became what I deem; he joined the Group and pledged himself.   He and I now share the same status. This makes discussing or comparing approaches much better, and we have honest discussions on various topics.

I hadn't seen him in almost a year, and I was well on my way on my new journey.  He encouraged me and didn't pull back like some folks have.  J Man texted me out of the blue the other day and asked if I wanted company this weekend.  That he would come up today, hang out, cook, and just take in a few moments of life with me.   I believe he truly wants to strengthen our friendship.  At this time in my life, I believe that I want to venture out and do the same.  J'Man lives down in the true Cajun country, hard-working, good people, down there around Turkey Creek, Bayou Chicot, Ville Platte, Point Blue.  

I'm encouraged to have a friend who desires to visit and make the trek here.

Preservation of the Generations

 There is one item in my family's history that, I believe, makes a statement as to who we are, where we came from, and how we, as a family, cherish and remember our history.  

That is the upkeep of the family cemetery.  This cemetery sits on a small rise in the rural farm country of East Feliciana Parish.  It is known as the Scott Thompson Cemetery.  There seem to be more Thompsons buried there than Scotts.  Paternal Side - Most of my cousins are there, along with my great-grandfather, my great-grandmother, my grandfather, most of my grand-uncles and their wives, and some of their children.  

My Grandmother (paternal side) refused to be buried by her husband, my grandfather, who passed away in 1905.  She lived many years after him and passed away in 1956. She was born in 1868. This is because most of the women, the Thompson Women, buried in the Scott-Thompson Cemetery opposed my grandmother's marriage to my grandfather. 

Anyway,  my dear son, my oldest, took on the task of making sure his great-grandfather's tombstone, which was beginning to lean over, was given a new footing/foundation.   My duties with this cemetery have now passed to another generation, through their actions in taking the time to maintain these hallowed grounds.

Here are is  a photograph  of what I have described above:

My Grandfather's tombstone is seen in the middle of the photograph; to the left is his brother; the pure white tombstone in the back is my great-grandmother; and the up-ground vault is my great-grandfather in the back by my great-grandmother.

An Posting from the Past, Dec. 1, 1939

 I have, in the past, written of my Father and the year he was born; that year was 1903. (As a note: he married very late in life).

My dear sister has been delving into our family history; many articles, one comprehensive book, and various publications have emerged on the family.  

 Today, my dear sister texted me several photographs of various mentions of family members, which included this advertisement published in the "Clinton Watchman", a parish newspaper, in East Feliciana Parish.  The advertisement is from My Daddy; he was selling a portable sawmill.  What struck me was not the ad, but the telephone number: 69.  Our telephone number was 69 there on the farm.  I have very, very vivid memories of Mr. Neg Haskey (who worked for Ma Bell) coming to our house on the farm to replace the crank telephone with a big black dial telephone; our number changed to 2622. I was all of seven years old.  

Here is the advertisement from the Clinton Watchman:

I am leaving to go across the Big Muddy tomorrow, see yall later.

Early Early Saturday Morning

 Well, well... here I am, typing at 6:54 a.m., up, with breakfast, coffee, and a link of Juneau Sausage. 

Juneau's. It's a local butcher shop that specializes in Cajun products: sausage, Sausage, Hog's Head Cheese, Boudin, etc.

Yesterday, I was at my general practitioner's office, getting my blood work read. The nurse, whom I know, always engages in back-and-forth banter, told me she had a gift for me.   She had found out that I had made it to my 9th month of sobriety ( living in the Lil' City by the Red), which is like living in small-town USA.

Everybody knows everyone, so to speak, or they know the local semi-celebrities or old political folks.

Well, to continue the story, as I walk down the hallway to the doctor's office, the nurse says to me, "Mr. Tommy, I got something for you." She pulled out this medallion; it's a weighted coin that says 9 months. The nurse continues, "You've got people who know who you are, who are so very proud of you." 

It brought me to tears in an instant!!

Now on to another topic: the weather. I was sitting on the porch, sweating around 4pm yesterday, on the front porch, which, by the way, has a very large magnolia tree as a shade tree.

The temperature on the gauge on the porch table read 100 degrees, with 35 percent humidity. Even with the low humidity, it was really too hot to be on that front porch.

Its Life

It's always something... You just have to take what comes with a smile, well, maybe a growl or two in the low-tone area.

As I was coming home the other day from Mississippi, I was about 30 miles from the Lil' City by the Red; it's a two-lane road with no shoulders to speak of.    I saw two big 18-wheelers coming at me; one seemed to be shedding stuff off the truck onto the roadway.   Well, not to complicate matters, here I pull over as far as I could, as a big rock, the size of a golf ball, was flung into the road by the truck and popped, bouncing right into my windshield.  The high rate of travel shattered my windshield and put glass in the cab.  

The damn 18-wheeler didn't slow down; it kept on going... So, long story short, I have to replace the front windshield of my truck.   To the tune of $875.00.  Cause It's a Ford F-150 with a Rocky Ridge Package.    Since insurance rates are out of this world here in Louisiana, I won't claim it on my insurance.  Just writing about it, gets me a lil bit calmer .. 

Dr Office and Flu Shot

 Today, I got up early, and I had an appointment to get my blood drawn to see how I was handling the new c cholesterol med I have been taking.   Well, I was there, and the nurse said, Mr. TW, we just got the new high-dose flu shots.  She said, do you want one.  Why, hell yeah. Be the first one on my block to get the new shot.  So I'm on my way to being protected once again.  I am noting this in my blog for factual purposes, since I might forget the day I took the Flu shot.

Traveling Ms Hwy 28

 One of the many state highways that I travel on in the backwoods of the Magnolia State is MS Hwy 28.

 It begins near Fayette Ms.; along the way,  you go through small settlements such as Pleasant Hill and Union Church.  Pleasant Hill has one grocery store, two homes, and a Masonic Lodge that is in undetermined use.

As you approach Union Church, you see the Union Church Water Tower, looming in the distance.  Then you come upon a church set off from the highway and across the road from a massive old cemetery.  However, there are no commercial businesses in Union Church,  just some abandoned homes in a state of disrepair, and the Church and Cemetery.  

I stopped and took these photos, wondering where the folks went to and what brought on the decline in such a community.  

Sunday, but (and there is always a but) Ain't No Funday

 Nope, ain't no Funday... It's searing hot, and you're sweating at 7:45am as you walk to the truck to check on the other house at 1771 Albert Street.

Small Town America Holly Springs, Ms.

 When I travel around Mississippi, I am given hope that the small towns in the USA are still vibrant and contributing to our Nation as a whole.

In Holly Springs, Mississippi, you find an HBCU, Rust College.  It has a campus that is both historic and energizing.   

There are local businesses, such as The Southern Eatery and The Chicken Coop. The pulse of the county is seen here, with historical markers of the entire population.  

Photos of Northen Mississippi Holly Springs Mississippi

 The photographs were taken in Marshall County, Mississippi.  The County seat is Holly Springs. The Courthouse there, and the small town has Courthouse Square.   Several historical markers dot the square.

 I am back in the Lil City by the Red.   More Photographs to come later with a narrative. 

Sunday Sunday in the Late Afternoon

  Today, in the Afternoon, I leave the Lil' City by the Red to travel to the State Capitol of the Great Magnolia State.  I'm spending tonight and the next few nights till late Thursday giving my opinion to various correctional facilities.   My travels this week take me near the Mississippi/Tennessee line and then downward towards the central-eastern part of the state. Speaking about the demands of accreditation, what value this process is for a facility, and how to accomplish the task. Teaching the art of the process and to what extent it betters the whole institution, both offenders and employees.  Which, in my opinion, provides for a much improved environment for all.

Tis Friday

 Tis Friday ...

End of the work week for me, well, in a tongue-in-cheek way.  Being semi-retired,  I can't say I really work a 40-plus-hour week, to be honest.  It's more about two hours a day, checking counts, offender movements, and answering a few questions about classification or facility operations on a broad scope. 

I am very blessed by the fact that I am maintaining my sobriety, even as I go forward in life, at the age that I am now.  As a colleague of mine often informs me, the  Good Lord is still working with me and through me.  She sees the transformation of a Once  Hard,  solid, stoic Warden of Louisiana,  using his many skills of human interaction to teach the nuances of corrections to another younger generation of corrections personnel.  She often has commented how nicer, and I smile more, laugh more and Not Take My Self So Seriously.

Yesterday, I saw my doctor, who has become a good friend, over the last eight years since I was diagnosed.  He told me, " Your eyes are more responsive, and I can tell your thought processes are back to snapping away."  He said sobriety is working well for me.

For my Lil' Sister that brought me to begin this journey, I count her years as a social worker of the highest professionalism; she gave up drinking some years ago also. (Even tho she doesn't read this blog). She has encouraged me every step of the way on this journey.

From those three examples of encouragement, and to the FELLOW BLOGGERS on here that have commented on this stage in my life. 

I say, THANK YOU !!!!!!!!

Keeping Up with the Joneses

 As a blogger who notes the changes and modifications blogs go through, I have seen many of these.

One of the most defining elements of these modifications in the last seven years or so is the addition of photographs in a personal setting. 

So, in keeping up with the Joneses, I will do the same. 

My shoulder, from an old mountain biking accident, is giving me some awkwardness while typing this morning.  However, please no pity, cause I am trudging onward.

Here are some photographs from inside my lil abode of solitude here on the red brick streets of the Lil' City by the Red.

Here We Sit .... With our Thumbs Up Our Azzz

 As the State of Washington Burns

As the Country of France Burns

As the Drought that is ongoing in the West

As the Colorado River Dries Up

No One is talking about the Coming Catastrophe of our Environment and our Climate.

No, We, are Just Sitting Here With Our Thumbs up our AZZ.

We better wake Up.  He who lives in the Marble and Granite Halls of DC is only worried about making more money for himself.   And  His Minions who are elected to represent us are doing the same thing: making money for themselves.

Friend from the Deep Past

 My journey on the path to sobriety has taken several turns and dips, but (and there is always a but), No Falls. No Relapses.  

One of the hardest things that I occasionally have to do is not let folks in the front or side doors; these are entrances to my home.   I have to open the door, say to them, "Hello, I am on the path of being totally sober.  I wish to remain that way.  I am concerned that if you step into my home, I will not be or remain, so I am asking you to leave my property."

I am upfront and honest; I say that to them in a very kind way, not harsh, not really demanding, bout more educational and letting them know that I need them to try to understand.  

Today was such a day: a friend from my past that I had had a fling with came with another person that I had had a tryst with. So, I said the above, and they both understood. 

I can't say that for some, though; some become inflamed, rude, and nasty. Which, in the end, proves to me that I did make the correct decision.  

Today, it was much harder; they both said they understood. Which leads me to question myself: am I being too difficult?

Sometimes doubts remain with me.

Growing Up, Coming of Age, Making the Correct Steps in Life. .... The Influncers (Part One)

 Some years ago, I wrote about my Momma, and I have noted that my Daddy passed away when I was eight years old.  Daddy was 59 years old when he passed, having been born in 1903.

I haven't written, spoken about, communicated about, etc., about the Men that did a great deal of influencing and helped me form into the person I have become.  

The list is somewhat numerous, but not too large,  so before my memory fades to other thoughts, I wanted to speak about these men, who, in time, began to impart, tell, brought me to acknowledge, sometimes scold, made me happy, made me sad, but (and there is always a but). Formed and became influential in my young years, my teenage years, and to some extent into adulthood.

My early years from the time of Daddy's passing till I was able to drive the farm's 1956  Ford truck, shift on the column, up and down the road, and to the next town 6 miles away.  I was driving at 14.  You have to remember, I was in a very rural farm setting; the town had only two grocery stores, general stores, that is.

 I was taught to hunt and fish by men who lived on the farm with us: Man Hale, Ira Gibson, Little Willie Richardson.  Those men had fished and hunted on the farm all their lives, and they were ingrained in the life of our farm.  I cherished those lessons of early morning hunts, long afternoons in the barrow pits fishing and walking the creek, grabbing for fish.  Dipping that cup in the spring and waiting to see if the spring had a white crawfish in the cisterns from the springs on the farm.  

More to come later:

Up Late Can't Sleep " Roots"

 I just couldn't sleep; I had just stuff rolling around between my ears.  So I decided to come in the office and write a few lines.  One of the thoughts I had while I ordered me a box of AJ Fernandez cigars online was that of an old friend, TJ Bankston, who back in the day was the sole probation officer for two whole parishes here in Louisiana.  TJ has gone on to meet his fellow LSU football teammates from the 1956 LSU football team, 

When I would walk into the Courthouse in St. Francisville or Clinton, La, TJ would be at the table up behind the rail next to the Judge's Bench.  We all sat up there as "Officers of the Court".

Anyway, TJ would look at Judge Kline and say, "Look, Your Honor, here comes Tommy with that root in his mouth."  

The Judge would wheel around from the Bench and say, " Tommy, what brand you got in your mouth today?"

TJ always called my cigars "Roots". As we know, when the hogs are back in the swamp/cypress groves, they root around the forest floor for grubs, roots, etc to eat during the wintertime.  

Thus, memories of my early days as I worked my way through college as a Deputy Sheriff in very rural West Feliciana Parish. Circa 1975. Then later as a Judicial Administrative Officer in the 20th Judicial District, circa 1978.

That's what being up so late and tossing and turning gets me: memories of TJ, the High Court, and no air conditioning in the CourtRoom.