But then, my mom never has had the creative turn of mind I do.  And, actually, the only resemblance I see is of the right side of the house with the attached single car garage at the back right turned at a 90% angle, facing the front.  Even that resemblance is slight because our house was white stucco and our double garage stood alone a bit beyond the small bedroom that was in the 90% angular turn.

We had an old windmill like the painting, although by the time we moved there in 1954 when I was nine, there had long been indoor plumbing and heating in the house.  My grandparents were among the first of their neighbors to put in electricity after beginning the South Plains Electric Coop in Lubbock that ran power lines out to the Abernathy house in the fall of 1937.

We did not have endless meadows filled with wildflowers sprawled beyond our yard full of day lilies and crepe myrtles like the painting either.  Or hazy blue mountains in the distance.  Our yard had tall Chinese elms standing guard around the perimeter – windbreaks they call them out there where the wind always blows.  Two massive cedars reigned outside the windows on the left side – the west side – of the house.  The bigger one scratched against my bedroom window at night, scaring me.  But, I left  the high window open, anyway, to listen to the sounds of the night.  The deep green cedars did look like the ones in my painting.  They are just placed on the wrong side of the house.  But, that is of minor detail to me.  I think what my painting most brings to my thoughts are memories; not precise recollection – memories.

My earliest memories of my grandparents’ house, before it was ours, are of early morning smells and sounds.  Coffee percolating.  Bacon frying.  My grandma’s soft voice and my uncle Oliver’s, mingled with the deep voice of my granddad talking with my mom and dad.  I cannot even recall where we all slept – and there were six in our family alone.  But, I do remember watching them all through the glass paned French doors that were closed between the living room and dining room beyond, with the small kitchen behind that, even.

An old upright piano stood in the living room to the left of the doors where I would later spend many hours practicing, hating every moment of it until it was too late to turn any latent talent into playing much more than simple arrangements for pleasure.  I deferred becoming accomplished to my sister, with her pianist’s hands and discipline.

When I look at my painting – and I do many times a day, as it hangs on the sea glass colored wall next to our bed – I see Texas in its glory.  I see times past when I was raised so naively innocent that I did not learn of some of the fundamental elements for really living until I was well into my thirties.  Innocence lost can be a sad state to live in, but then again it can be cherished for allowing diversity and depth to increase.  I am a better woman for having lived both lives.

My painting most reminds me of home.  It reminds me that I grew up in a good home, a solid home, a place where all that was evil lay somewhere else.  I keep those memories close to my heart, for I want my home now to be a safe haven and harbor to all shattered souls who would seek shelter herein.  I have been one of them, and am no more.  I am, and I want all who come here to be, at home.

Tom & I have been very disappointed by the coverage and lack thereof we’ve seen on television, the main source for many of us for these very visual stories.  Today, a good journalist friend of ours sent us a link to the Hollywood Reporter online, of all places, which has an excellent editorial about the pitiful cable and network news coverage of the events in Japan and I want to share it with you here.

It’s a piece written by Tim Goodwin.  It won’t take you long to read and I’m sure will raise many thoughts and comments among you.  It sure did me.

“Analysis:  TV Cable of Japan Crisis is Lacking.”

I’ll try really hard to be back a little later here with my latest in Tom stories.  He’s gone sailing this afternoon, so I have some “free” time. ha!  Dee

In George Washington’s days, there were no cameras. One’s image was either sculpted or painted. Some paintings of George Washington showed him standing behind a desk with one arm behind his back while others showed both legs and both arms. Prices charged by painters were not based on how many people were to be painted, but by how many limbs were to be painted. Arms and legs are ‘limbs,’ therefore painting them would cost the buyer more. Hence the expression, ‘Okay, but it’ll cost you an arm and a leg.’ (Artists know hands and arms are more difficult to paint)

*******
As incredible as it sounds, men and women took baths only twice a year (May and October) Women kept their hair covered, while men shaved their heads (because of lice and bugs) and wore wigs. Wealthy men could afford good wigs made from wool. They couldn’t wash the wigs, so to clean them they would carve out a loaf of bread, put the wig in the shell, and bake it for 30 minutes. The heat would make the wig big and fluffy, hence the term ‘big wig.’ Today we often use the term ‘here comes the Big Wig’ because someone appears to be or is powerful and wealthy.

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In the late 1700′s, many houses consisted of a large room with only one chair. Commonly, a long wide board folded down from the wall, and was used for dining. The ‘head of the household’ always sat in the chair while everyone else ate sitting on the floor. Occasionally a guest, who was usually a man, would be invited to sit in this chair during a meal. To sit in the chair meant you were important and in charge. They called the one sitting in the chair the ‘chair                                  man.’ Today in business, we use the expression or title ‘Chairman’ or ‘Chairman of the Board..’

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Personal hygiene left much room for improvement. As a result, many women and men had developed acne scars by adulthood. The women would spread bee’s wax over their facial skin to smooth out their complexions. When they were speaking to each other, if a woman began to stare at another woman’s face she was told, ‘mind your own bee’s wax.’ Should the woman smile, the wax would crack, hence the term ‘crack a smile’. In addition, when they sat too close to the fire, the wax would melt . . . Therefore, the expression ‘losing face.’

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Ladies wore corsets, which would lace up in the front. A proper and dignified woman, as in ‘straight laced’. . Wore a tightly tied lace.

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Common entertainment included playing cards. However, there was a tax levied when purchasing playing cards but only applicable to the ‘Ace of Spades.’ To avoid paying the tax, people would purchase 51 cards instead. Yet, since most games require 52 cards, these people were thought to be stupid or dumb because they weren’t ‘playing with a full deck.’

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Early politicians required feedback from the public to determine what the people considered important. Since there were no telephones, TV’s or radios, the politicians sent their assistants to local taverns, pubs, and bars. They were told to ‘go sip some ale’ and listen to people’s conversations and political concerns.. Many assistants were dispatched at different times. ‘You go sip here’ and ‘You go sip there.’ The two words ‘go sip’ were eventually combined when referring to the local opinion and, thus we have the term ‘gossip.’

*******
At local taverns, pubs, and bars, people drank from pint and quart-sized containers. A bar maid’s job was to keep an eye on the customers and keep the drinks coming. She had to pay close attention and remember who was drinking in ‘pints’ and who was drinking in ‘quarts,’ hence the term minding your ‘P’s and ‘Q’s

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One more and betting you didn’t know this!

In the heyday of sailing ships, all war ships and many freighters carried iron cannons. Those cannons fired round iron cannon balls. It was necessary to keep a good supply near the cannon. However, how to prevent them from rolling about the deck? The best storage method devised was a square-based pyramid with one ball on top, resting on four resting on nine, which rested on sixteen. Thus, a supply of 30 cannon balls could be stacked in a small area right next to the cannon. There was only one problem…how to prevent the bottom layer from sliding or rolling from under the others. The solution was a metal plate called a ‘Monkey’ with 16 round indentations.

However, if this plate were made of iron, the iron balls would quickly rust to it. The solution to the rusting problem was to make ‘Brass Monkeys.’ Few landlubbers realize that brass contracts much more and much faster than iron when chilled.

Consequently, when the temperature dropped too far, the brass indentations would shrink so much that the iron cannonballs would come right off the monkey. Thus, it was quite literally, ‘Cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey.’ (All this time, you thought that was an improper expression, didn’t you.)

If you don’t send this fabulous bit of historic knowledge to any and all your unsuspecting friends, your floppy is going to fall off your hard drive and kill your mouse.

Forgiving isn’t forgetting. It is letting go of the hurt.

Comments made in the year 1955!
(That’s 55 years ago!)

‘I’ll tell you one thing, if things keep going the way
they are, it’s going to be impossible
To buy a week’s groceries for $20.00.

‘Have you seen the new cars coming out next year?
It won’t be long before $2,000.00 will only buy a
used one.

‘If cigarettes keep going up in price,
I’m going to quit.
A quarter a pack is ridiculous.

‘Did you hear the post office is thinking about
charging a dime just to mail a letter?

‘If they raise the minimum wage to $1.00,
Nobody will be able to hire outside help at the store. ‘

‘When I first started driving,
Who would have thought gas would someday cost 29 cents a gallon..
Guess we’d be better off leaving the car in the garage.

‘I’m afraid to send my kids to the movies any more..
Ever since they let Clark Gable get by with saying
DAMN in GONE WITH THE WIND,
It seems every new movie has either HELL or DAMN in it.

‘I read the other day where some scientist thinks
it’s possible to put a man on the moon by the
end of the century.
They even have some fellows they call astronauts
preparing for it down in  Texas  .

‘Did you see where some baseball player just signed a
contract for $75,000 a year just to play ball?
It wouldn’t surprise me if someday they’ll be
making more than the President.

‘I never thought I’d see the day all our kitchen
appliances would be electric.
They are even making electric typewriters now.

‘It’s too bad things are so tough nowadays..
I see where a few married women are having to work
to make ends meet.

‘It won’t be long before young couples are going to
have to hire someone
To watch their kids so they can both work.

‘I’m afraid the Volkswagen car is going to open the
door to a whole lot of foreign business.

‘Thank goodness I won’t live to see the day when the
Government takes half our income in taxes.
I sometimes wonder if we are electing the best
people to congress.

‘The drive-in restaurant is convenient in nice weather,
But I seriously doubt they will ever catch on.

‘There is no sense going to Lincoln
or Omaha anymore for a weekend,
It costs nearly $15.00 a night to stay in a hotel.

‘No one can afford to be sick anymore,
At $35.00 a day in the hospital it’s too rich for
my blood.’

‘If they think I’ll pay 50 cents for a hair cut, forget it.’

Y’all have a great day, hear?!  Many blessings to each of you!  Cheers!  Dee

Many of us are making “holiday” plans for this three day weekend starting tomorrow, including our president – our erstwhile “Commander in Chief” – who is going off for enjoyment, rather than going over to Arlington National Cemetery to lay wreaths among the fallen soldiers of this great land of ours.  I don’t know about you, but that really bothers me.  A lot.

I mean – we have plans, too, but quiet ones.  Nothing ostentatious or celebratory by any means.  In fact, in looking for a photo to place here on this post while ago, I found several images that had superimposed over them the words “Happy Memorial Day.”  I find that offensive.  Since when is a day of remembrance of men and women of valor who died for the cause of their country to be a “happy” day?  I think not:  in any way, shape or form.

Tom & I just finished watching the 10 part HBO series “The Pacific,” about our fathers and other elderly relatives, fewer every day who remain living, who fought in the Pacific Theater of World War II.  It was horrific, both in presentation on TV, and even more so in reality.  They talked with aged veterans at the beginning of each episode and the interviews were hard, even now, for some of them to do, all these many years later.

By the time the series closed; when we got to the 10th and last episode, I could barely stand it and cried most of the way through the hour for these men who came home changed forever.  The series had followed the lives of real soldiers who fought real battles, who had families they left behind, who had plans and dreams for the future.  Some of them didn’t make it home at all.  For many of those who did, it took a long time – if not a life time – to get over the nightmares of their experiences.

What made me cry the most is that their story has been so long in being told.  Some of the guys in the group had written books about their lives in war.  Others kept journals.  They were part of one company, so knew each other in real life.  But, most of these real life soldiers have already died.  Some as long as 20 or 30 years ago.  Just a couple of them remain alive today, and both are very elderly.  The majority did not live to see the respect and tribute that some among us so wanted to give them, including Steven Spielburg and actor, Tom Hanks, who produced the movie.

Nearby in New Orleans resides the National WWII Museum, which is magnificently done!  Tom Hanks had a lot to do with it, as well.  It began as the National D-Day Museum (exactly 10 years ago next week – June 6), a dream of author (now deceased) Steven Ambrose, who wrote of WWII in several books.  The museum was so well done that people flocked to New Orleans to come experience that important time in our history.  Thus, they expanded it to cover all of WWII, not just the European fronts.

I urge you all – any of you who can – to come to New Orleans and go there.  You will be forever changed by the experience, which includes listening to and watching oral histories of every day people who lived through it here in America, as well as soldiers who went overseas.

This is my “sermon” for the day.  For the weekend.  I hope to participate in remembrance activities on Monday and to stop and reflect on all who have served and fallen from the very beginning of this country of ours.  May we ever seek God’s favor and grace on us as we live as Christians in the freest land in the world, at least from its inception up until now.  And, may we NEVER forget.

God bless you all today, and God Bless America.  Dee

You will note, when you squeeze your eyes really hard to read the sign, that you are not only “welcome,” but that they want you to drive safely.  You will also note in the photo, if you look hard enough, that there is a green sign to the left of the welcome sign that says “Shawnee Town Branch.”  That is (so you’ll be in the know) the town branch of the Shawnee River.  I suppose, although there were no tour guidebooks to inform us, that the “other” or the rest of the branches of the Shawnee River are out in the country around, rather in town.  Although, I would imagine that in the beginning when (again I suppose not having a guidebook) the Shawnee Indians named the creek/river, there was no town, so alas, I know not whence the name came.  From a bunch of white men wanting to settle the area, I imagine, and saying, “Look.  Here’s a nice creek we can put our town around and not have to worry about where our sewage runs off to,” or some such.  Just imagining.

Uh – back to our trip.

The photo above was taken from the front yard of the aforementioned Legion Hall, which is a log cabin, you’ll note.  (I’ll post it again here.)

Looking straight on at this photo, the Town Branch of the Shawnee River/Creek is to the left.  We stopped here and spent some time because (1) there was a nice big area for parking, (2) the “boys” all wanted to go down by the creek next to the cabin and pick up rocks as souvenirs of their trip back to this place (some people are more easily satisfied with simple remembrances than others and they all thought rocks might be just the thing to bring home), (3) they wanted to throw some rocks, as well, and (4) the main reason we stopped here – this is where their dad’s movie theater was.  I know.  The rest of us were really surprised.  And, it was even the Legion Hall back then.  Mr. Andrews leased the building to run his theater/movies two nights a week there in town.

There is a small “add on” at the back of the building (about the size of the “throne room” in the back of the Flippin jail, but a bit deeper) where the projection booth was.  They sold concessions and everything there.  This part of Yellville I thought was most quaint.

The next photo I’m going to show you (and the next story) has to do with the little cafe right across the creek on the other side of where the log cabin was and the town sign.

The cafe was in that building behind the H&R Block sign on the “town” side of the Shawnee Creek with the theater in the background.  Dickie told us there was a big scuffle and shoot out there one time in which the police chief intervened.  Several people were shot, including the police chief, and he never was the same again.  Messed him up in the head, Dickie said.  I don’t know whether that was from being shot in the head or from the trauma of having a shoot out in the local cafe in such a small place as Yellville.  Hard to say.

Another big story Dickie & Jimmy both told had to do with either the bank or the post office over on the other side of the big courthouse (look back up at the Welcome to Yellville sign photo and you will see the tall courthouse through the trees in the background.  Either Bonnie & Clyde robbed the bank – or the post office – or the film “Bonnie & Clyde” was filmed in one of those buildings portraying their “real” robbery years before at either/or establishment.  As usual, Dickie & Jimmy had vastly different “facts” to support their individual stories and the rest of us (nor you, I would imagine) could ever get it all straight.

But the two old, historic buildings were very interesting and beautiful, actually, and if you tried hard enough, you could imagine Bonnie & Clyde on the sideboards of their fast car making an even faster getaway from whichever one they robbed, the bank or the post office.  Or, you might even imagine a movie set being there in downtown Yellville.  Made me want to go back and watch Bonnie & Clyde the movie again just to see if I could recognize Yellville in it.  Or not.

Moving on – we drove around to where the boys thought they “might have” lived there.  It was either a duplex or like one, with the Andrews family living on one side and the Jollys (Tom’s mother’s sister & husband & son, Oliver) living on the other.  Times had obviously gotten hard by then as the place looked really run down, except for some bright blue paint.

We had now been to the four little towns the boys had most wanted to visit.  Gassville, Cotter, Flippin and Yellville.  Now we went in search of more touristy things to see.  We couldn’t go anywhere around, though, without seeing references to trains, as they were such a large part of the communities there back then.  On our way back over to the Bull Shoals Lake and Dam we passed these train cars and the guys just had to stop.

Oliver especially loves trains and just had to explore these old cars.  He & Tom went over to see all they could while we sat in the van with the doors open enjoying a little quiet time.  Oliver has a huge train track/trains set up in his home, or at least did at one time.  He loves trains.  Here he is thinking back to how it used to be in those days when people rode the train a lot.

Tom talks a lot about raining trains when he was a little boy, starting as young as five, by himself.  He apparently wasn’t scared or afraid at all to ride the trains from where they lived here and later in south Arkansas over to Memphis to see and stay with his dad.  Amazes me.  Completely.  Scares me to death to even think about putting a five year old little boy on a train by himself to ride several hours to Memphis from whatever little Arkansas town he started in.  But, that would have been 1949 or 1950 and times were way different.

Sometimes, Tom says, his dad was late to pick him up at the train station, so little Tommy would go inside and find someone nice there who worked there (traveler’s aid, or something) to give him something to drink and/or eat while he waited for his dad.  I wonder if I would have been so grown up feeling and so brave.  Do you think you would have been?

That’s it for today.  Next time we’ll take a scenic tour of the Bull Shoals Dam/Lake area and see exactly how the dam was built back then beginning in 1947.  Interesting stuff and gorgeous country.

Cheers!  And many blessings to each of you today!  Dee

Dickie, Jimmy, “Tommy,” Debbie and cousin, Oliver looked bright and happy.  The day was gorgeous and they were ready to go.

We had had such a great buffet brunch the morning before nearby that we decided to go there again to take Oliver.  However, fate had other plans because when we arrived at the Gaston Resort near Bull Shoals Lake on the White River, the electricity had been out for 45 minutes.  We were totally bummed out and tried to figure out where we could get a good breakfast on a Monday morning among the small towns around.  Turned out to be nowhere, so we headed back over to Mountain Home, the largest town around, to see what was cookin’.

Found a great little local cafe and chowed down, one of our favorite things to do, although somehow the whole four days we managed only two meals a day, the days being so full of sightseeing with no places around at all to eat.

(Left to right, Steve (Debbie’s husband), Oliver, Tom, me, Jimmy, Arlinda, Dickie, Joyce and Debbie.)

Now we were on our way, once again.  And, once again, we had to take the “old highway” over to Flippin, which meant going through Cotter again.  When we got there it was late morning but not much was going on.  It looked rather deserted.

It also didn’t look like much of a town.  It lacked the quaintness and charm of Cotter and we’d been to so many of these small places in search of old theaters and houses that I decided all of these Flippin towns looked alike.    In fact, we couldn’t find where the theater had been in Flippin, so went in search of where the boys had lived.  This was the only little house they remembered there and Oliver couldn’t remember where he had lived, although he knew it was nearby.

We were about ready to go on through town when we saw an interesting sign, so turned down the street there to see what it was.  This is what we found.  What’a ya think?

We couldn’t believe it, but Dickie & Jimmy said that the city jail in Cotter had been nearly identical in size and construction.  It was tiny, y’all.  And really intimidating to me, who is terribly claustrophobic.  It was creepy and scary.  Then Dickie told us that when they lived in Cotter, a feeble minded man who worked for their dad at the Paradise Theater was jailed one night in the Cotter jail, down near the White River, after some kind of altercation.  During the night a fire broke out and the man was killed in the jail.

All of this, of course, prompted Tom & Oliver & Steve to get out of the van to go peek in the barred door of the jail.  They nearly had heart attacks on the spot when they peered into the inky blackness inside.  Literally.

Here’s what they saw, except this was taken with a flash on the camera and not in the pitch black.

They thought it was a real man in there when they peeked in.  Scared them all three.  Pretty grim jail, if you ask me!  And, right in the middle of a neighborhood, not “downtown,” such as it was.  Although, back in 1928 when it was built, there probably wasn’t anything around it at all for a long ways.  (If you look closely, you can see the “throne” seat at the back.  From the outside back you see where it just would have drained down on the ground.  Not very sanitary to say the least, but then, I suppose it was the “modern” thing at the time.  Indoors, anyway.  Of a sort.  My goodness!

That stop abruptly ended our Flippin tour, so we headed on over to Yellville, where we’ll pick up next time.  I leave you with one more photo to ponder and a question (of course) to think about and comment on.  What was the deal with the Legion Hall below in Yellville and the Andrews/Jolly clan do you suppose?  Let’s hear it.

Be back Monday!  Cheers & have a great and blessed weekend y’all!  Dee

We all thought it was funny and couldn’t quite figure it all out.  Maybe Greg would like to enlighten us as to why a furniture store and embalming company would occupy the same building and why there was just an embalming company to begin with, rather than a full fledged funeral home.  Care to do so Greg?  Enquiring minds want to know.  I sure do, anyway.

When we left downtown Cotter, we went down by the White River.  It was a really interesting spot, and we spent some time there that late Sunday afternoon.

We took a lot of photos, three of which I’ll show you today, but more next time.  This first one is of the three Andrews brothers congregated to share stories about climbing the steep mountain just across the river from where we were on the west side.

Tom, as you can see, “borrowed” my old scooter that Dickie used on the trip as they had a quiet moment together.

However, as was the case the entire trip, in the next photo we see Dickie & Jimmy in a heated discussion – with constantly differing opinions – about where something or other occurred.  More about that next time, along the river side.

They were so funny!  I don’t think they agreed on one thing.  Or maybe just one, at the most.

One last photo before I go today.  I know it’s been a long time, so I don’t know if you remember how I started this entire series last November.  (See here.)   (Yikes, Dee Ann, are you that slow and long-winded in your writing?!  Good grief!)  Cotter nowadays refers to itself as the trout fishing capital of the USA, and from what we saw and experienced, it sure enough is!

We were down by the river about an hour or so, I suppose, and watched flat boat after flat boat come in off the river loaded down with fish – Rainbow trout, German trout, speckled trout . . . all kinds of trout.  And all of them had caught their limits within an hour or two!  Honest!  Wow!

There are all kinds of cabins, lodges & cabins, rentals, state parks, on & on around Cotter where even a less than avid fisherman can go stay, rent a boat, catch his/her (I LOVE to fish for trout – when I can catch them) trout limit and then have a guide clean them, cook them and serve you and all your guests for either lunch or dinner, depending on how early you get out on the river.

The White River is stocked regularly, and I don’t feel bad for the fish (very much liking fresh fried Rainbow trout!!).  Tom is not a fisherman at all, but I would really love to go back up there one of these days and partake of such feasts for two or three day.

I’ll close for today by showing one lady I took a photo of as she showed me one of she and her husband’s limit of trout they had caught over just the hour and a half before!!  They came over nearly every weekend, she said, to catch trout to eat back at home fried (and froze the rest).  If we had such in the big creek down behind our house here, I would think that I was in trout heaven!!  Behold:

Mmmmm, Mmmmm!!  Boy, that looks like good eatin’!!

That’s it for today, but there’s plenty more good stuff to come next time, when we resume our Andrews memories tour.

Cheers & many blessings to each of you today!  Have a great, safe weekend!

Dee

P. S.  It just dawned on me.  I think I’ve figured out the answer to my own question for Greg about the embalming company/business.  But I want to wait and hear his comment first, and y’all’s, as well, okay?!

Why do YOU think it was an embalming business without being either a casket company or full fledged funeral home?  Comment!

Dee

I’ve seen it probably 10 times and still cannot keep from bawling my eyes out at the end when . . ..  Nope.  You’ve got to see the movie.

I especially think of Tom when I watch the movie because of the magic of his movies filled boyhood and teen years.  I’ve shared with you before long ago (if you’d like to read or re-read those posts, I’ll give you the links – just comment) about how Tom and his older brother Jim ended up living with their dad in Biloxi actually IN drive-ins and movie theaters!  If you’ve not read them, you might want to do so.  It was more in the times of John Goodman’s movie “Matinee.”  (Seen it yet?  It’s terrifically funny – as were some aspects of Tommy’s and Jimmy’s lives then.)

I left you with a question last time (surprise, surprise), and y’all have some great answers about what two distinct businesses founded in 1905  were housed in the same building we passed around the corner from the Paradise Theater.  But, none of you were correct.

Remember the photo (check the last one in my last post?  There were two plaques in front – one on each side of the double door.   As we looked at the store (now an antiques/gift shop), we saw this one to the left of the door:

Well, guess what?  I’m not yet going to tell you what the sign to the right side said.  You’re going to have to guess, again, for next time, when I promise to reveal the other sign after you’ve guessed some more, now with a big hint(?) – or not.

Remember, I said the two businesses were disparate in nature by a long shot.  Although (another little hint), in some sort of twisted way of thinking, the one – furniture store – could be of use in the other, but not with typical furnishings as we think of furnishings for a business.  Totally perplexed now?  Think out of the box, so to speak.  Or, perhaps I should say “in” the box, for yet another huge clue.

Moving on.

Last time I promised you photos of Tom’s mom and dad and here they are.  His mother, Glenda, was very beautiful.  She was slender and tall – about 5’7″ or 5’8″ – and had reddish blonde hair.  This photo was taken of her not long before she married Tom’s dad:

Tom’s dad, Lewis, was good looking, as well, and according to everyone who ever knew him, a real charmer of the ladies, despite being short (about 5’5″ or so, Tom says, whereas Tom is 6’2/12″) and more “robust”:

Tom calls him more of a vivid character, than anything, with his twinkling blue eyes that sparkle with mischief.  When I was working on his photo yesterday, Tom was here and I couldn’t help but see a strong similarity between them when it comes to the mischievous looks and charming personality.  Tom actually much more strongly resembles and takes after his mom’s family, but still . . . there’s a definite way about him that is very much like Lewis was.

One last photo before we head down the street next time to the White River and famous Rainbow Bridge.  There, we’ll find lots of stories from Cotter “yesterday,” as well as lots more stories about Cotter today.

But first, here we are hanging out on the street corner in Cotter, just down the block from McClain’s Furniture store and ????  It was a gorgeous day and we were having a blast, as you can see.

Cousin Oliver stands at the left, with Dickie’s wife Joyce on the bench behind him.  Jimmy’s wife, Arlinda is next to her.  The three of us standing in the middle of the picture (l to r) are me, Tom’s tall sister, Debbie, and Tom.  Behind him are Jimmy and Dickie on their scooters.   We roamed the empty Sunday afternoon streets soaking in the atmosphere and nostalgia.

Then we drove over to the river, where we’ll begin next time.  (Okay, right after the revelation of the “other” business in that building near by.)

Cheers and many blessings to each of you today!  Dee

For today, we’ll just cover some of the highlights.

Here is the second house in Cotter they remember well.

Dickie remembers this one because he was working with a gun toward the back of the house and shot a bullet through the back side window.  The windows look original and he wanted to go find the hole he shot in the pane, but we were afraid to venture into the strangers’ yard, ya know?  Might still be some gun owners inside.

Things moved a bit downhill from there.  The next place we photographed is one of the other places they lived “downtown.”

They lived in one side of this blue building and their mom ran a cafe in the other side.  She actually worked in cafes all around town at various times and we photographed several of them, all still there, but various other kinds of stores/offices now.

Finally, a year or more after their parents’ divorce, they moved to a small building next door to the Paradise Theater that until recently had been a pharmacy.  That building has now been restored and is named the “White River House.”

This is where the story gets interesting, weaving in pertinent Andrews memories/history as well as connections to today.

Jimmy, who had had polio by then (when he was 10, remember), was a young teen and mostly living in a hospital up in Missouri where he had many, many major surgeries, was home for a short visit.

He began to share with all of us (just what we all needed to know) that their dad, who was traveling all the time, came “home” one night for a visit, as well. A few months later, their mom sent Tommy & Jimmy to live with their dad for a while down in Pass Christian, Mississippi.  Tom even went to school down there while he was there.

When the 10 year old Tommy returned to Cotter to his mom, again, he found she had adopted a baby girl she named Debbie.  She told him she had always wanted a daughter, so adopted Debbie, despite the fact that she was by now 45 years old, divorced with two young sons and very poor.

Tom accepted his mom’s story, not knowing any better, but the years proved that Debbie bore a striking resemblance to their mom and that their dad, who was 66 when Debbie was born,  remained on the sidelines at a distance.

Yep – he was 66 when Debbie was born.  He was 56 when Tom was born, and Tom’s oldest half-brother, Leonard, long deceased, was born about 1915 to their dad’s first very young wife.  Their dad – Tom’s dad – was born about 1989.  (Do you realize that Tom’s dad was the same age as my grandmother, born in 1890?!   Tom has done extensive historical research, but has not been able to ascertain exactly when or where his dad was born.

He knows that it was somewhere in Illinois, that his dad was born the youngest of a second grouping of children, after his dad’s (Tom’s granddad, who was born well before 1850 – I don’t recall the actual date) first wife died and he remarried, and that his dad left home when he was about 14, never to return and totally losing touch with his family.

Tom’s mom was their dad’s third young wife and he was married to her the longest.  Their mom was in her early 20s when she married their dad, who was 20 some years older.  I’ll post photos of them next time when I can get them out of their frames and scan them after I figure out how to use our new printer/scanner, etc.

Tom’s family history is incredibly different from anyone else’s I know.   He and his brothers all think they had the most glorious childhood, ever, despite the fact they were dirt poor and on the verge of being “nomads.”  I’m constantly amazed at how well they all turned out, so steady and true in their ways.  Great family men, all, who’ve raised terrific kids and done very well financially – considering.  But, more about all of that later . . . maybe.  (You interested?)

To end, I leave you with a picture “puzzle” for next time.  Look at the photo below and guess what two historical businesses it housed, both begun in 1905, one on each side.  I’ll reveal the answer next time, which will have a very interesting connotation for one of you readers!

Isn’t this fun?!

Cheers and many bless