Let's Start at the Beginning

    There is a line from The Sound of Music:

      "Let's start at the very beginning,

       A very good place to start."

   

   207 Tunnel Blvd. Chattanooga, Tennessee

   Telephone 2-3348, then MAdison2-3348 or MA2-3348 or 622-3348, a party line for a little bit, then a straight line. A two-party line I think, and an adventure in itself.

   This house was built in 1931. Nana and Papa were married in 1931, and bought the house in 1934. Just for comparison's sake, the down payment was $1200 and the monthly payments on the loan were $24 a month. 

   I have my parent's budgets for the years 1932 through 1945, meticulously kept by Nana down the the last penny. 

   Nana's expenditures for 1932 totaled $1868.40. Her grocery bill was $245.50 which would be about 2 weeks for Carolyn and I right now.

   The above shot showed my Mom on the front porch with the dog, which I don't remember at all.

   In May of 1936, their first child was born.

   My Dad holding yours truly at 9 weeks.

   My brother David would be born in 1939 and my youngest brother Bill in 1946.

   But this blog will feature my memories about life and growing up, from my 84 year old memory, which can be suspect at times. These particular memories will not be in any particular order chronologically, just as they fall out of my brain.

   As I was looking at old photos, most taken by my Mom, one particular memory jumped out at me. 

   These concrete steps, leading up to the front door, were the focus of many hours of play by a youngster who loved all kinds of sports. Like many others, baseball, became a major fascination, and, lacking a field nearby, and neighbor's kids who were, for the most part female, these steps became my playing field for many games of solo participation.

   The needed accessories were few. An old tennis ball and a baseball glove were all it took to make the game come alive. 

   It unfolded like this:

   The human player took the roles of the defensive team in the field and the steps became the batters. The field of play included the sidewalk to the street in front of the house and all the surrounding territory that a ball thrown against the steps might venture into.

   The pitch was the key. The pitcher, standing on the sidewalk, threw the ball against the steps. Where the ball collided against the concrete determined how the batter hit the pitch. Sometimes it would be fouled back onto the front porch, sometimes a line drive, or a pop up or a ground ball. The pitcher then became a fielder and had to make a play on the ball, either to catch it in the air, or to field it on the ground then throw (again against the steps) to a baseman to get the out. There were no strikeouts or walks. Every batter hit the ball somewhere. 

   The action:

      The pitcher throws.

      The batter hits.

      The fielder catches.

      The fielder throws to a base to get a runner.

      Next batter.....

   Innings were played, score was kept, and a game completed by the one-man team on the sidewalk.

   The field was always ready for play, anytime, and, as long as the pitcher's arm held out, the games could go on, and on, and on.......

   Refreshments were ready in the fridge when hunger or thirst called.

   There is no telling how many hours were spent in play right there.

   And, when at last darkness obscured the flight of the ball, the glove was hung up, a chair pulled up to the edge of the porch, the radio turned on, and the play-by-play of a Chattanooga Lookout's game filled the air with the exploits of real players.

   It was a great time to be alive.

A Nostalgic Tour of Sorts

    Driving home from church the other day, Carolyn and I took a quick jaunt down Tunnel Blvd. , to the neighborhood of my youth. 

   A little backstory on why: 

   Carolyn and I both were born here in Chattanooga in 1936, but our paths never crossed until the early 80s when our families both attended Brainerd Baptist Church. 

   She lived in East Ridge, then near Lovell Field, the Chattanooga airport, then off Lee Highway near the Tennessee Baptist Children's Home, then off Bonny Oaks Drive near Oakwood Baptist Church where she attended after her marriage. She attended Tyner High School.

   On the other hand, I spent my early years on Tunnel Blvd., a couple of blocks from Brainerd Road, then out in the "country" on Hickory Valley Rd. in East Brainerd. I went to McCallie for my high school years.

   Interesting to me is the fact that all of this growing up time took place east of Missionary Ridge in the Brainerd Section of the city, but we never met. We could have possibly been in a lot of the same places, maybe even at the same time, but never knew it.

   As an aside, when Mayre and I moved back to Chattanooga from Knoxville in the early 60s, we lived in Lakeshore Estates, which is less than a mile as the crow flies from the property she and Bruce owned in Harrison, and where they built in 1971. 

   After we married in 2019, we have had a lot of time to reminisce, and it has been fun to relive our separate lives.

   

   My plan for this journey into the past is to begin here on Tunnel Blvd., in this house built back in 1931, and share things that come to my mind.

   Come join me in the attempt to remember my early life, the people and places that impacted me, and, in general, how we lived back in that "before TV and plastic" era.

  Stay tuned.

Perhaps a Visitor

    "I need you to look at something".

   A plaintive cry from the kitchen area this morning.

   I was in the living room, reading, when this urgent request came to my ears.

   I looked out the screen porch to the walkway that led to the garden shed. 

   At first look, through the binoculars, I thought I saw some movement. On closer inspection, it appeared to have the same coloring of our resident hawk, and I wondered if we had a baby hawk or a juvenile.

   Or something else!

   Only thing to do was to get dressed and find out.

   Just last summer we had a visit from a coyote. I wondered if some critter had come our way and left a calling card. He or she did just that.

   Someone had enjoyed a good meal, not only that but had to take time to rid his intestines of some previous food. A ham bone that still had a bit of meat on it. The coming sunrise might have scared the animal away.

   It would take a fairly large animal to carry or drag this from somewhere not on our property. 

   But whose bone?

   From whence did it come? 

   And most puzzling of all, what kind of creature did this deed?

   We may never know. The bone is now in the garbage, and tomorrow will be in a landfill somewhere.

   And some visitor will be disappointed that his interrupted meal will not be there waiting for him tonight.

   And all the other four legged beasties will be ragging him/her this evening after arriving from afar in response to an invitation to share a banquet. Several may be disappointed, but the one with the shamefully red face could be a tad angry.

   Such is life.

Walking In History

 

   I remember this site from the many times we flew into, or out of, Lovell Field in Chattanooga. We were low enough on approach, or takeoff, to see a wooded section of land just north and east of the airport. In any season of the year, but especially winter, when the leaves were off the trees, we could trace roads through the forest, and branching off from the main roads were a lot of small and short roadways leading  into the woods. 

   I had fancied being able to walk those roads and see where the little offshoots ended. 

   A short history: Back in 1942, at the beginning of WWII, the federal government purchased 8,000 acres, more or less, and proceeded to put up the VAAP (Volunteer Army Ammunition Plant). The mission of the project was to produce TNT for munitions in the war effort. 

   The explosive material, after manufacture, was stored in bunkers which were scattered over the wooded site. These bunkers were built, covered with earth, and, when the trees sprung up, they would be invisible to any enemy bombers. 

   Of course, the planes of the Axis powers never became a threat, but early in the war, no one really knew how the war years would unfold.

   The plant and the accompanying bunkers were phased out after use in the Korean and Vietnam Wars, the buildings either demolished or left to deteriorate, the bunkers emptied, and the area left fenced off from the general public.

   I won't go into the minutia of historical progress, but the county purchased the land for an industrial park.

   Today it is home to, among other businesses, a Volkswagen assembly plant, and an Amazon Distribution Center.

   The area, called Enterprise South, is also home to a nature park, filled with hiking and biking trails. These paths were constructed using some of the interior roadways of the TNT plant, and containing 100 of these storage bunkers.

   Carolyn and I found these roads and walking trails in the opening days of our courting. We wanted to do things together, but were not too keen on being too public a couple. It was a perfect spot.

   It still is....  

   

   This has become a very popular spot for mountain bikers, hikers, families on a stroll and dog walkers There are separate trails for bikes and hikes so congestion is held in check.

   And, if you care to look and think, there is history everywhere in this nature spot.

   The sound of making things and the voices of workers still whisper on the winds as we walk amidst these relics of a bygone era.

   An area used for the storage of explosives, once filled with the sounds of preparations for war, is quiet in the peace that came after. 

   A great place to remember the past and be grateful to be living in that peace that the war produced.

   And carry that gratitude with us as we use these roads and trails, and look on those remnants of storage, and thank God that we can.   

 

Christmas Time 2020

    Nothing seems the same this year, not even Christmas. 

   We all want to be with family at this time of the season.

      Donna and her flock are hunkered down in Arkansas playing board games and waiting for Santa to land on their rooftop.

      Dwayne and Karen are in their new condo on Lake Norman entertaining Sydney who is working remotely in NC even though she is based in San Francisco.

      Sawyer is working on a new job in San Francisco lending his computer insights to a new start up company that he hopes might be the new Amazon.

   And we have been blessed with a visit over the past few days from our Virginia people who made a rest stop in Chattanooga on the way to a beach vacation in Destin, and Christmas in Pensacola with Dawn's family.

   Doug and his family arrived in two vehicles, with 5 kids, and Roxie, ready for food and games.

L to R David, Doug, Laken, Lucy, Caroline, Drew, and Dawn

Roxie's favorite activity

   Since the weather did not cooperate, we spent our time indoors playing table games, watching Virginia Tech Football (beating Virginia AGAIN), and watching the tree being decorated by the grands. As an aside, Carolyn and I found the simple solution to decorating for Christmas...Getting the tree set up, bringing the ornament box to the living room, and letting the kiddos put their skill to work making it festive. It is the only way to go! And they loved it..

   Too soon, the visit was over. We had been blessed and the hope that is a staple of Christmas, the love of family, had been played out in our house.

   As I read back over what I had written, my thoughts centered around that little four letter word HOPE.

   Too often I had heard someone say "2020 has been such a crazy year, I sure hope that 2021 will be easier to deal with.

   Or, "I hope this COVID stuff goes away, that the vaccine works, and that we can live normally again."

   Then I look toward the Christmas tree and the manger scene that fills the coffee table. There is a hope that we can more than just wish for, a hope that surrounds us with God's love. That is portrayed on the table with shepherds and wise men, just waiting for us to claim the promises of God that are contained therein.

   This HOPE is the sure thing, the real deal, and it is available for each of us. Jesus, the Babe in the manger, lived on this earth, was crucified on a wooden cross, dying a death that bought our everlasting life.

   We don't have to be trapped in hopping for outcomes in the days ahead that we have no control over. Believe what the Bible tells us about Christmas accept the sacrifice for you,  and have a secure hope in your future.

   Merry Christmas

   and may the fudge tin always stay filled.

Tea Time in Talking Rock

 

                                                           North Georgia in the Fall

   We had a errand to take care of down in Calhoun, so, on a beautiful Fall November Friday, after doing our business, we decided the Jasper area was calling our names. Carolyn had lately been in a texting conversation with a niece in a small town in that area, Talking Rock, and another driving adventure seemed our lot.

   The niece was not going to be home that day, but we went anyway. We were intrigued by the name of the town, and it just sounded like fun.

   The town made us welcome.

   The City Park was open, and a swing near the creek (Talking Rock Creek) was just right.

   Wikipedia said the town took its name from the creek, and the residents that we spoke with thought that sounded right although they were not sure. Carolyn said the rocks spoke to her as the water flowed over them. Decide for yourself...

   The town was incorporated in 1883 when the railroad came through, and the 1890 census showed 141 folks.

   How many churches does a town need when the 2010 census reported that 64 people lived there?

   A sign in town pointed the way to the First Baptist Church of Talking Rock, so we went. Church was constructed in 1974, but the sign revealed that the church was founded in 1839.

   Was there an older building around?

   We found a white church just a stone's throw away on another road. Check the sign above the front door.

   Now compare that to the cornerstone on the brick church. Same founding date, but now the newer church had added First to its name. 

   Sounded like a church split to us. When we went back down the hill, we stopped by one of the three antique stores in that little village and asked. The lady proprietor told us it was a split, but she didn't know what caused it. How many worshipped in the new church and how many were left at the older? Information needed for sure on that.

   But we did get another town story from a man who sorta attached himself to us as we walked the 3 store town. He pointed to a big rock at the corner of the intersection of Route 136.

   He told us that a girl grew up in the house we were standing in front of. She loved to go down to the creek which ran over by the railroad track across the street, and sunbathe on this big rock. The boy that lived across the side street from her home, also like to go down to the creek and fish. In time they married.  

   The year was 1958.

   For an anniversary present, this boy, now man, got a friend to help him make a road down to the creek, dig up that rock, haul it back to town, had a monument company chisel an inscription on it. It was their 40th anniversary, and the wording is:

      "Talking Rock

        incorporated 1883

        This rock removed from creek

        and placed here Augusr 23, 1998"

   I'm left wondering how she liked her unique gift?

   When we visit older towns, we like to walk through cemeteries that sit next to old church buildings. Thinking and trying to piece together the lives of those resting there. 

   There seemed to be so many small kids buried in that place. One family plot had two smaller stones, one for each child that had died on their first day in this world. 

   Another plot held the remains of a man and wife along with 6 stones, designating the 6 children in their family that had died, each before reaching 2 years of age. Times were hard for the Keel family.

   By the time we had finished the cemetery, it was way past lunch. Back to town, 3 stores all antique, no food anywhere, except the bag lunches carried by a few in the city park.

   Our lunch was a bottle of water and...

   Nevertheless, it was a good day. We had perfect weather, heard some stories from the locals, saw pretty fall foliage, and..

   We did not leave any money in the antique stores. 

   We had looked forward to Tea Time in Talking Rock, but had to wait till Arby's in Dalton. The M&Ms barely held out till we got there.

   What a Day

   

   

One Christian's Conscience

    I cannot speak for all people who attach the name "Christian" to their profile, I can only speak for one, me.

   This coming election has had me tied up in knots about how to cast my ballot in this race for President. Even when I went to vote the other day at the Election Commission, I knew how I was going to vote, but I was not altogether comfortable doing it.

   How do you make a choice?

      The Republican was a man who had a grating personality, an attitude of a bully, a life history that included many things that I did not agree with. But, on the other hand, had championed the life of the unborn, had promised and delivered on the whole idea of judicial appointments that would restore constitutional government on the basis of the Constitution, and had rejected the moral claims of the Left on many issues the country is struggling with right now.

      The Democrat was a man who seemed blown about with every wind of outrage coming from the left in his party. Not all the party, but the part that he needed to get the nomination. He evolved from many of the ideas he had sponsored coming up through the ranks. He seemed unprincipled in many of the areas that I held as important. How could I vote for a man, and a party, whose answer to a question about what he would do as president, said "I'll tell you after the election".

   There is always the option of voting for one of the several third-party candidates, but it is a vote that will not count in the election.

   So, what to do?

      Vote for the man whose twitter style is obnoxious to say the least, but who has demonstrated some actions that have done a lot of good in the past 4 years.

      Vote for a man who won't tell the public what kind of president he will be, but wants us to trust him to do the right thing.

      And then I recall the fact that both of these men, flawed as both may be, are not spring chickens. Not as old as the writer of this, but old nevertheless. Who would I like to succeed them in the office if something happened to either? 

      Harris or Pence?

      Mike Pence, hands down. 

   I believe that God does not cede any of His control to any electorate, and that His will will be done in our country. His reasons are unchangeable and His Word is our guide.

   The thoughts of one believer may not be altogether right, but I do believe that ...

   The purpose of The Lord will stand.