Turkey, Dressing, Archery.......

For Thanksgiving 2004, the Rhodes clan spent a couple of days at the tree farm. After batting around several ideas for a camp house at the farm, Melvin acquired an older mobile home and had recently completed a major overhaul of its interior. He was very proud of how it had turned out, and he wanted to move the holiday activities out there so that the family could utilize it as a group for the first time. I also think that he knew that the only way to get me out there was to take the food there.

Melvin had recently bought a bow, and had a shooting area set up so that everyone could try out their skills. I had never touched a bow & arrow before, and Melvin had very little reason to think that I would perform very well in the arena, as I have never had any interest in athletics, hunting, guns, etc. But, I stepped up to take a turn, and after the proper instruction from Melvin, took aim and let the arrow fly. I wish that I had a photo of the look of absolute shock on Melvin's face when the arrow not only landed in the target circle, but was placed very well in the target. Assuming that I had just gotten lucky, he wanted me to do it again. This time, I got even closer to the bullseye. He announced that I obviously had a natural gift for archery. I shot many arrows that afternoon. The next morning, my entire forearm was black & blue from bruising due to the bow string hitting it.

While we were there for the weekend, we learned of the sudden death of acclaimed Mississippi writer, Larry Brown. He had suffered a sudden heart attack at his home near Oxford. I had been a fan from the beginning of his writing career, and have signed copies of all of his books, so I was very shocked by his passing. Now, it seems very strange that three years later Melvin would also die of a sudden heart attack not 200 yards from where I was standing when I learned of Larry's death.

Marcus

Cars only blow-up in movies...

Dad gave us a lot of advice about cars. How to drive them, how to crash them if you had to, and how to repair them. And he always shook his head at scenes with cars that crashed and burst into flames on screen. He said that only happened in the movies

Well, that may be true, most of the time. But not always. Not when it is my car, at least.

Dad dabbled in used car sales from time to time. The peak of his car sales coincided with my coming-of-age as a driver. Most people fantasize about their first car. I had so many first cars I can't even remember them all. There was a step-side Ford pick-up, and a gorgeous purple '53 Chevrolet (we called it a "Ziggy car" because it was rounded like the cartoon character) with a tube-type radio that still worked, and several others that for one reason or another were bought and sold before I ever got my license.

But then, there was my real first car - a white, 1979 Chrysler Cordoba. I hated (and dearly loved) that car. Dad and I had a deal: if I made a certain score on a certain standardized college entrance exam, he would buy me a new car. Well, I blew it. I missed the magic score by one point. When I found out my score, I lost it altogether right there in the guidance counselor's office. Never mind that the score was high enough for college, I wasn't getting a new car. I was inconsolable. I cried all the way back to my dorm. Then, I called Dad. I was sobbing by the time I told him my score - and he couldn't stop laughing. You see, he explained, he was always going to buy me a new car, but he wanted me to have a goal - he wanted me to try my best. So he had picked a number he thought I didn't have a chance of making - as motivation. I was furious for about 10 seconds, and then I realized I was getting a new car.

Dad took his time finding the perfect car, and just before my senior year, he bought it. It was beautiful, it was perfect, it was half the size of my Cordoba. The only repair it needed was a new headliner. So, I followed behind the car from Dad's Tire Shop to Columbus, to a rather seedy-looking shop that was supposed to do a good job - when they came to work at all. No one answered the door that day at the shop. I was not about to leave my precious car there unattended. One of Dad's all-time favorite "Grease Monkeys" had driven the car to Columbus, and now we started our caravan home. Not long after we got onto the highway, the car started overheating. He slowed down, rolled down the windows, and turned on the heater. The car continued overheating. We pulled off the highway. Dad's mechanic took a look under the hood, and we decided to leave the car on the side of the road and go get what we needed to tow it back to town.

I saw Dad come out the front doors of the shop as we pulled into the turn lane. Dad was shaking his head. I was out of the truck before it was in park.

"Daddy, we've got a problem."

"Yeah, we do."

"No, Daddy. Listen. The guys didn't answer the door at the upholstery shop, and I was just going to take it back some other time, but the car started to overheat, and we tried everything we knew to do, and we looked under the hood, but we decided just to leave it on the side of the road..."

"I know."

"Huh? Daddy, how could you know?"

"Tiff, if you didn't like the car, why didn't you just tell me?" By this point, he was struggling to maintain his composure.

"Daddy?! What are you talking about? I love that car."

"Well, Girl, I've got some bad news." Dad proceeded to break the news to me that moments (possibly even seconds - I've always wondered if we would have seen it if we looked back) after we pulled away from the car - it burst into flames. Burned up. To a crisp. Toast. The Highway Patrol was able to read most of the VIN, and they contacted the manufacturer of the car - in Detroit (DEE-troit to hear Dad say it). They provided the original purchaser's name, and the highway patrol was able to reach the original owner's son - who happened to be the friend from whom Dad had just bought the car. Dad's friend provided the officer with Dad's phone number, and the officer informed Dad of the events which transpired after I left the car. And, I might add, all of this took place in well less than 20 minutes. (Remember, this was 1989 - they did all of this without the internet, or even cell phones!)

To add insult to my injury, my Foreign Language teacher was driving by and took pictures of my burning car (she didn't know it was mine at the time) which ran on the news that night and maybe even in the paper the next day.

I couldn't believe it. Dad couldn't either. He had searched for and found the perfect car, and it was gone. And he couldn't believe that we didn't notice that the car was about to be engulfed in flames before we left it. He was fishing for an explanation for what had happened - grasping at straws, really. He asked if there was any possibility that someone had been smoking in the car and that this whole fiasco was the result of a carelessly discarded cigarette. I was indignant. I think I even raised my voice when I explained that no - no one had been smoking, and for that matter there was emergency phone money in the ashtray, and if I had known that the car was about to burn up, I would not have left those two quarters!

End of discussion. Dad was convinced. He knew it was the truth. I would not have left money (even fifty cents) in the car unless I intended to be back for it.

And, though we'll never know now, I suspect that Dad was the one who put the two quarters there in the first place - just in case.

A Perfect Head...

Dad's hair, or the lack thereof, has been the subject of quite a few laughs in our family.

• When Aly was about three, she found a solution to Dad's hair loss (not that he was ever looking for one). Aly noticed that there was always hair in the bathtub drain. And she knew that Dad took at least one, and often two showers a day. So, she told Daddy that he needed to stop taking showers because the water spraying down onto his head was making his hair fall out. (We laughed.)
  
• A couple of years later, Dad was serving as a pall bearer. Mom and I were attending the funeral, and were seated several rows behind Dad. Funerals are never fun, and Dad's day had already been complicated by finding a pair of little girl's jelly shoes in his coat pocket. Just before the service, I said (apparently a lot louder than I thought), "Mama, look - Daddy's the youngest and the baldest." (We laughed - later.)
• Christmas 1991: Dad unwraps a smooth piece of wood, shaped like a paddle. Enclosed in the package are instructions for using the "Bald-Headed Man's Brush". (See photo.)

Dad was bald - and he didn't mind saying so. He was one of those guys who could actually say, "God made only a few perfect heads...and the rest he covered with hair," with a smile.

Memories from Marcus, continued.

Instead of adding to my previous post, I thought I would just start a new one.
(And I thought I would add my own insights to my husband's memories...tlm)

1. It must have been the fall of 1991 or the summer of 1992. Lorraine & I were not married, and hadn't even considered the idea. The "Wonders" series of international exhibitions was going strong in Memphis, and the Rhodes clan had attended the previous blockbuster, "Catherine the Great." So, they invited me along to see the "Ottoman Sultans." This was when they had that great Toyota van, with the engine basically underneath the driver & front passenger. The middle-row seats rotated all the way around, so the back of the car could have a little party along the way. Somehow, I got voted to drive...... the entire Rhodes family in my charge..... all the way to Memphis and into downtown to the Convention center. I was scared to death, as I had never before been to Memphis, and now was about to drive all around it. But Melvin sat up in the passenger seat, never seemed worried at all, and actually took a good bit of pleasure at my discomfort. It was a great trip.

2. In August of 1991, just before Jan's father died, I was invited to tag along with the Rhodes family to the balloon races in Corinth, MS. I had never seen a hot air balloon, much less been close to one, and it was a tremendous treat that instilled a desire to one day have my own balloon. That day will come later on. At some point on the trip, we landed at the "mall" in Corinth. This was a rather sad place, as most of the stores had gone out of business. For some reason that escapes me now, all of the girls & I began speaking with an exaggerated Southern drawl and referred to Melvin as "Colonel Daddy." Melvin got quite a kick out of it, and played right along. This carried right on into the local Wal-Mart, where some back-to-school shopping had to be done, as school was beginning the next week. The looks on some of the folk's faces was priceless.
(Not only did Daddy play along, he began calling us the most Southern-sounding names imaginable: Magnolia Blossom, Camellia Bloom, and Sweet Pea. He even called Marcus "Junior". In addition to all of that, Colonel Daddy also walked with a limp...)

3. While Lorraine & I were at Walt Disney World, Melvin & Jan drove down twice during the four months to visit.

On the second trip, as we were nearing the end of our time there, they drove back Lorraine's car and a lot of our stuff. There was a cast-member only store at the Magic Kingdom that sold merchandise at drastically reduced prices. At some point while we were there, they had a life-size Mickey & Minnie that became available. Lorraine bought them. They  took up the entire back seat of Lorraine's car on the way home. Melvin loved the looks from people on the road as he would pass them and they would realize that Mickey & Minnie were in the car. (Daddy reported that he did his best Disney wave to everyone he saw along the road.)

4. Melvin & I did not do very much by ourselves, but he & I both wanted to see the movie "Castaway" when it came out. So, we loaded up and headed to the theater. I loved it, but he only found it to be mediocre. (Not surprising that a man who lived in a house with a wife and three daughters wouldn't be too impressed by a movie with almost no dialogue - it was probably the longest "quiet time" he had ever had.)

5. For Christmas of 2000, the Rhodes clan took a big family trip to Gatlinburg, TN. We stayed in a fabulous chalet up on top of the mountain. Jan & Melvin got there several hours before the Moseley's arrived, but the met us at the bottom of the mountain to lead us up. It was very cold that week, never getting above freezing. There was snow on the ground, and we were somewhat nervous about heading up those narrow winding roads in the dark. Melvin took off like a bat out of hell, and we had no choice but to keep up. The road had no shoulder, and you had the choice of colliding with a sheer wall of mountain, or an immediate drop of hundreds of feet off the side of the mountain. There were literally cars in the trees on the side of the road that had missed a curve and gone off the mountain. It was more than a little nerve-wracking, but we made it. (Seriously: there were cars suspended in mid-air on trees and utility poles. At least one of the girls was in tears before we were halfway up, and I didn't blame her one bit!)

War Rations.

I am thankful that I know very little about "war rations."

One of the things that I do know is that it was a boon for Dad's family that he was born on the 14th day of the month. Since he born that day, they got extra rations for the month of July. Had he been born any later in the month, they would not have received rations for him until August.

So, they had enough sugar to make a cake.

I cannot imagine the world they were living in, but I am deeply grateful to all of the veterans who have served this country to make the world we live in possible.

On this day in 1945...

Dad had his first visit with a doctor sixty-two years ago today.

Dad was born in a house on Louisville Street. My grandparents did not live in Starkville, but my grandmother's sister and her family did. Dad was born at their house. I don't know the details of the story, but the important point is that my grandmother intended to give birth there.

However, Dad was born on the 14th, and today is the 17th. When Dad was three days old, a long-time Starkville doctor, Feddy Eckford, stopped by and checked him.

The story goes that Dad was a little yellow (jaundiced), and the doctor advised that they put him in the sunlight for an hour every morning and evening.

They followed Dr. Feddy's advice, and Dad turned out just fine.

A little short on car repairs...

About a decade ago, we left Starkville one hot, summer Saturday headed to a friend's wedding in Waynesboro. We never made it. My beloved yellow Volvo wagon started misbehaving on the road, but we were able to coax it along until Lauderdale, and then it died. Despite my best efforts and a phone consult with Dad, I could not get it started again. So, realizing we (me, Marcus, the girls, and a friend who was riding with us) were stranded, Dad came to our rescue. He was in Eupora when I called, but he left immediately. By the time he arrived (some three hours later), we were hungry, thirsty, and grumpy. Between the three adults, we had only enough cash to buy a snack for the girls. It is hard to imagine now, but the only gas station within walking distance of our dead-as-a-stick car was having a computer problem and could only take cash that afternoon.

Thank heavens for Daddy's pockets! He arrived with enough cash to buy a round of cokes and ice cream for everyone. And apparently, the old Volvo just wanted to see him. It cranked right up and drove us all the way home, without missing a beat.

 

I guess I'll be a AAA gold member for the rest of my life. But even though they've got great service, they don't trouble-shoot over the phone, and even when they do come to pick up the car, they don't buy snacks and drive you home!

A few months later, I got this personalized Valentine's day card from Daddy.

Independence Day

Dad loved the Fourth of July.
He celebrated our country.
He honored our veterans.
He flew our flag proudly.