Intro

Maybe this is my mid-life crisis thing. Hell, I'm feeling lucky to have one.

I have talked about doing something to reflect my heritage for years. It's difficult to take a life and put all the people, situations, scenery, and everything else in words and pictures, etc.

Most of the time I get to talking about one thing and then I go off on something else, then something else, and so on. Kinda' like going on You Tube looking for a video on how to (whatever) and end up watching a fat cat trying to get through a pet door. Two hours Later!!!

I guess the best place to start this journey is with speech. That seems to be where I stand out in a crowd. After having married a Yankee woman (born and raised in Chicago), it has been pointed out that I have an "accent". We have always sparred back and forth about how things are said. More so since I have to deal with people in my line of work from around the world. I have been told that, "You don't talk alot, but when you do, it's a work of art." Please...I think they're patronizing. I've seen a lot of bad art.

See, I have digressed already. I will try and chronicle the words and phrases I have heard, and used, throughout my life to reflect the southern vocabulary. And yes, it is a vernacular that is world-reknowned.

Born in L.A.

I was born a poor white child. (cliche', in case you didn't know. Extra points for the movie it references)

My parents lived in Monticello, Arkansas. I can remember my Dad was in the boat-building business as long as I knew. I did hear he was a cop for awhile. He was born in the Fendley community, outside of Alpine, Arkansas. We'll get into that more later.

My Mom was 16 when she got pregnant. She had me on March 4, 1964. She was raised in Curtis, Arkansas, outside of Arkadelphia. We'll get into that more later.

I was trouble from the start. When Mom went into labor they were in Monticello. They wanted to have me in Arkadelphia, where the families were. They struck down the road and had a flat. Figures. I have that impact on folks. To hear the story, my Dad flagged down a ride. Some man they didn't know. After hearing my Dad's story, he agreed to drive them to Arkadelphia. I have that impact on folks, too. Even before birth. Or maybe it was a karma that I inherited. I like to think that.

Ok, that's the groundwork. My kids have been on me for awhile to write this stuff down. I have had so much to tell, for way too long. I feel like now is the time.

I won't use your real name. Not to protect you. Because you're not innocent! Except my girls. I'll make you sing tenor if you hurt them.

I don't want this to be some sappy-ass crap. That's not me. Let's get this straight, I don't give a damn about a box of chocolates. You get what you chew.

I will entertain you with pics, links, videos to help tell the story. Not just me rambling.

If I shock or offend you, well it's probably because your butthole is made of plastic.

Stay tuned...