However, that same day, oil and tar balls began to show up in the water of the lake in Slidell.  Undaunted, he still thinks he can get in some good sailing before the mess is too much.  I told him I didn’t think that was such a great idea.  For one thing, the boat has those brand new blue coats of paint on the bottom of it, up to the water line and a little above, with a second blue line trim running around the boat above that.

The other big thing (in my book, however I guess I’m no longer a true sailor) is that if he gets a tar ball caught up in his motor, that will be the end of the outboard motor and I said, “we are not getting a new boat motor.”  “Period.”  “Forget it.”  “No way.”

Sometimes one must stand her ground, and this is the spot I’ve chosen to stand on.

So, he came come up with an alternate plan, which went like this:

(1) He wanted to put in a long gravel driveway down on the lower end of the front of our property so he could put the boat and trailer on it, instead of having it on the grass next to the garage.  Having the boat on the trailer on the grass up close is not only unsightly, but is also killing the grass beneath it.

The last two reasons above earned him enough permission from me to call our builder/contractor to come give him an estimate.

Tom described the gravel he thought would look nice that one of our wealthy neighbors has in his side yard.  Turns out to be a “special” gray gravel that is twice as expensive as regular gravel.  I couldn’t believe it.

Well, yes I could, knowing Tom and how he always gravitates, as if by magic, to the most expensive whatever it is he wants to purchase.  Again, I stood my ground and said “forget it.”  I was against the whole gravel driveway scenario to begin with, but was beginning to wear down.

Then he decided it would be nice to have cross ties along each side and a shed at the end, as a place where he could store all of his boat extra parts and pieces when the boat wasn’t in the water.  The shed could also hold all of his paraphernalia from Mardi Gras and Jazz Fest that now clutters the garage so that it is nearly impossible to get in and out of the cars.

Our builder came out and Tom got a price.  Then, Tom decided to add to the equation a concrete foundation upon which to place the now metal shed we were going to have to buy, so that the shed could be bolted down.

So, now we were up to a “regular” gravel driveway, cross ties all along each side, pouring a concrete foundation, buying a metal shed to place on said foundation, a culvert at the street’s edge, and, oh yeah – it seems a tree that is in the way is going to have to come down.

All of this is so that we can place the boat and trailer on it (along with its monthly liability insurance) since Tom can’t put it in the water anywhere around here due to the oil spill.

I got to thinking about all of this and came up with what I thought was an even better solution.  SELL THE BOAT!

I mean, he can no longer handle it himself, there’s no place to sail within hours of driving and it costs a whole lot of boat dollars just to have it to look at, much less sail.

But, he’s not to be deterred.  So, now I’m thinking that maybe the thing to do is (1) let him do all of the above additions to the property, which hopefully will be considered assets, (2) get a small window unit air conditioner for one of the two shed windows, (3) let  him put the two old furry bean bags out there that he won’t allow me to part with, (4) and have him go out there with his brand new cell phone (remember the other fairly new one got salt water in it and died trying to get the boat out of the water), where he can watch the NFL channel on his phone.

He was all excited because his “new” new phone has the NFL channel with all Sunday and Thursday night games.  I figure this will present the perfect opportunity for him to take advantage of those games, while he sits there in his bean bags looking out the other little shed window at his sailboat in front of him.  What more could a guy want, ya know?

Me . . . I’m going to sit in the house watching football on the 60″ HDTV and pretend Tom’s gone sailing.

I haven’t written about “THE BOAT” lately.  Oversight on my part.  Although, you have to admit there’s been a whole lot of other activity going on in our lives.  Like Tom’s 5 heart-bypasses March 31 and recovery.  My 1,750 mile trip to Texas and back.  Etc, etc.

But, believe me, boat happenings have been ongoing this entire time.

Some of you will remember me discussing das boot last summer when I briefly went back through our “boat history” up until he purchased the present one.  Last August I talked about his purchase of some expensive marine plywood to make a new “door” down into the tiny cabin.  I called them “Men Don’t Measure” and “Men Don’t Measure – Conclusion” for obvious reasons, when you read the posts. (Here and here – the photos are gone, but the links still there, so you’ll “get” the picture.  ha!)

He’s had the boat for two and one half years, so this was to be his third summer of sailing fun in the sun, blowing with the breezes, leaving all of the cares and worries of the world behind.  He had gotten the boat “all fixed up,” which is interpreted “everything he could think of to load the boat up with that I would be willing to go along with and pay for, if only he could convince me the items were all dire necessities to keep him alive and relatively safe out on the water alone.”

He half-heartedly worked on staining his marine lumber doors for the boat throughout the winter months.  The boat sat in the yard next to the driveway up to the garage with a blue tarp over it.  Staining went slowly, then ground to a halt about thanksgiving, with winter not yet completely upon us.  But days were short, nights were long and there was an abundance of football games and other major TV entertainment attractions to keep him from having to even think about that second, then third, coat of varnish each side of all three pieces of lumber needed.

He  decided to wait until early spring to regain his enthusiasm for boat “work,” as opposed to boat “play,” and kept napping in his recliner.  But I told myself, at least he’s not out spending “boat dollars” (Greg & Patrick, you will remember that this is somewhat equivalent to “guitar dollars,” an amount that boggles an average wife’s mind, especially one not given to piles of shoes).

Early spring arrived.  Cool sailing days were just around the corner.  Tom didn’t feel well.  After a trip to the ER turned into a two day stay, with needed heart by-passes set for a week later, Tom’s visions of sailing on the breezes faded a bit from his mind.  Staying alive moved to the number one place in his thought processes and stayed there for another two months as he endured complications and setbacks with his health before he could even return to work.

About that time, I left town for a while, so he thought that might bring a good opportunity for him to, at last, get back out on the water.  But, he didn’t have the strength to put the boat in the water on the coast, get the mast up and the sails all alone.  So, he had to muster help.  That would take a little planning, but could be managed.

However, heavy, on-going rains didn’t cooperate, so the minutes, hours and days tick-tocked away what would have been excellent sailing days while Tom and his helpers watched helplessly.

Then, total disaster struck.  The oil well in the gulf blew and now not only Tom, who sails in the gulf of Mexico inside the barrier islands of Mississippi, but the entire gulf coast region had a nightmare on their hands.

Tom was not to be deterred, though.  A true sailor and captain persists in even the very worst of conditions, most of which were about to happen to him . . .

To Be Concluded next time, so stay tuned . . .

(Cheers, Greg!)  Dee

I am spending my time, whether doing other tasks or not, in deep prayer and supplication to the Lord, requesting wisdom in knowing how to counsel with those around me and how to receive the best counsel in my own heart to bear these load, myself.

My deep faith sustains and guides me.  I seek forgiveness from those I may have wronged in my past, although I’ve always tried to do the best I knew to do at the time I was acting.

I do not like to write publicly in such a frame of mind, yet I do not turn from trying to be honest and open with the struggles in my heart with all who will bear with me.  I regret in my younger years having been judgmental toward many around me when, instead, I should have listened more carefully to their hearts and found that they were just like me.  We all seek the same thing deep down inside – to be truly loved and accepted for who and what we are.

I have long since learned better, having found true love and acceptance from this man to whom I am married.  Because of his great love for me, I came to know and understand – to really feel and believe – the unquenchable, eternal love of God, our Father, and Jesus Christ, our Savior.  Although he was God’s Son, he came here to earth to live as a man – as we live – to be one of us in all ways – and die, in his perfection, so that we might be redeemed by grace.  We are living, breathing souls and as God’s children, we are already living in eternity, never to face death, except in this physical, bodily form.  We have been saved by grace through our faith and in following after God to share His love to all around us.

We are the embodiment of Christ’s body – the church – upon this earth.  We are to exemplify Jesus in all our ways with each other and even with strangers and enemies.  May God help me live this out from now on, the remainder of my human days.

To God be the glory, and may we each recognize that Jesus loves  us.  Each of us.  You.  Me.  He will not forsake us or let us down, so matter how much we stumble or grow weary and weak.  “Jesus loves me, this I know.”

Please pray with me today, y’all, and know I pray for you, too.  Dee

Can any of you identify?

So . . . I’ve . . . been . . . stressed.

But, at the same time I’ve been reminded this week by others (thanks, Heather, for reminding me that dial-up internet on a rickity laptop is better than none at all!), in some cases, to be mindful of the little things in life that make our lives better.  I need to be “shook up” sometimes to appreciate all I have.  Me – the one who just wrote about “The Girl in the Woods” last time (this past Monday, that now seems eons ago) to remind us all to look around and really observe what we see.

I want to share with you a couple of photos we have of some beautiful birds who live here in Mississippi.  They are Mississippi Swallow-tail Kites, and Tom saw one flying above him on the way home from work one afternoon.

Isn’t this the most beautiful, graceful bird?

Here’s another one soaring above in the heavens.  Would that I could be such a bird in flight!

My spirit and my soul DO fly high above into the heavens when I remember my God, my creator . . . and I am refreshed and replinished in heart and mind.

Thank you, Father, for such beautiful little things in life that are not so little after all when we set our hearts toward heaven and toward You.  Help us to always have hearts of gratitude for the good you give us in such abundance, even in the little things around us, if we will but look and truly let our eyes SEE.

Give us hearts of compassion to always cast our look and Your love upon all we meet and know.  Give us hearts of forgiveness toward all others as You have forgiven us.  Forgive us when we do wrong, or fail to do good in Your name.  Help us to DO good in Your name at every opportunity; to always have a smile on our face; to always look into others’ eyes straightforwardly to smile at their souls.

We ask all of these things, and thank You for all of these things through Jesus Christ, our Beloved Savior and Your Son, in His Name.  Amen

She was 19 years old and married to a small thin man in his late 30s or early 40s who looked to be twice his age and was crippled up in his left arm from a working accident some years before.  Thus, he was disabled and unable to work any more, at all, although the work he’d done before was just as a laborer.

She had four little girls of her own, although she was just a girl herself.

They were destitute.  They lived in a small shack consisting of three room, with no bathroom, far off the nearest paved road among the tall, matchstick pines.  Being summer, it was swelteringly hot and humid, but they had no air conditioning, of course.  Nor did they have much furniture.  In fact, other than in the kitchen, I recall none.  The three little girls and baby all slept on bare mattresses reeking with the strong odor of urine.  They may have had diapers for the youngest, but the nearest place to do laundry was in town, and that cost money they didn’t have.  Neither did we see any clothes, anywhere.

Their only transportation was an old dilapidated pickup, and it was not there when we arrived.  The doors were wide open, so we went up the flimsy back steps to the kitchen and went in to look around.  We saw a small table with bowls on them, a couple of chairs and some cheap bent spoons.  The small refrigerator’s door did not shut well and it was full of big ants, but very little else.  Ants crawled all across the tiny kitchen, including on the counter, where we found the remains of their pitiful lunch.  Water gravy and water Koolaid, with a bit of sugar in it.  There were no signs of anything else to eat.

We had wanted to see them to visit, but instead we just left the big boxes of food, produce, milk and staples, for them to have when they got home.  We left some small clean clothes, too, for the girls, and took note of what else they needed.  It was a long list, because they needed everything, beginning with a habitable place to live.

We were not only saddened, but sickened at what we saw.  The wretchedness of the place; the poverty.  But, for the moment we had done all we knew to do.

We found out later that the reason they were not “home” was because all of them had driven to nearby Lufkin to the welfare department to try to receive a bit more financial help then what he was getting.  The girl told us that what we saw in their shack was the very last of the food that they had.  The water gravy and Koolaid.  They had nothing else.

When they returned home, completely dejected and hungry, they were overjoyed to find the food we brought.

My friend, a young Christian mother of four, herself, in her 30s, and I – just a married college student, myself, with a little one, David, who was two years old, had driven back into town by then.  I pondered what I had seen and experiences.  I deeply identified with this young girl, as I was expecting a baby soon, and would have two little ones at 21.

We lived in student housing in a small two bedroom apartment that was $67 a month, which we could not afford, either, but we managed the the four married couples’ buildings around our square and that paid our rent.  My husband went to school full time and worked all kinds of odd jobs at night to help with bills, too.  One job, sitting in a chicken house where the incubators were all night long to keep the eggs from burning, paid 33 cents an hour.  It was a miserable job, but we needed the money.

Yet, when I compared my life to hers, and she was a brand new Christian, I felt deeply blessed.

We did not leave them as we found them.  Charlotte, my friend, went back repeatedly to help them and even got the girl a decent paying job in town soon after.  Charlotte made sure she was able to come worship with us and bring her little daughters.  The girl dressed them up as best she could with the hand-me-downs and they looked shiny and sweet.

They are able to move into town and the church helped them greatly.  Their lives improved very much due to the love and care and benevolence of the compassionate Christian community there in Nacogoches.  It was inspiring to me to see true Christianity in action – Jesus love – and the impressions of that girl’s life have stayed with me until now.

This did not happen during the deep Depression of the 1930s.  This happened in 1966, and happens still today in many places all around us here in America, if only we will take the time to really open our eyes and see as Jesus would have us see.

My daughter, who lives in an a far suburb of Dallas told me a few years ago that she did not know any poor people.  (Although she lives out in the country and has trailer homes on both sides of their property.)  I was stunned.  I told her she would find them all around her, even there, if she would just look.  She took my advice, and did.  Since then, she has been involved in ministry with her congregation of Christians and on several mission trips outside this country, even.  We financially supported her in doing those things and have supported her morally and in every way we could to encourage her in her work.

Tom and I live in a very poor area of the south here in Mississippi where people such as the girl in the woods live, as well.  May I ever seek out those I can help in some way – as God’s child – a Christian – and not forget they are all around me too.  To get to our house in the woods, we drive by dozens and dozens of run down trailers and trailer parks that look like junk yards.  They are here.

I hope you will be encouraged today to look more closely around where you live to find someone you can help – in Christ’s name – to show them the love of God and Christ even in their lives!

Many blessings to each of you today.  Dee

Some are family members and some very good friends.  The relationships run together, which is as it “should” be in the life of a Christian, I think.  Don’t you?

I’ve not slept well the past couple of nights after about 2 or 2:30 a.m. or so.  This has been going on for a while about half the time, so I have taken to spending that time until near morning’s first light praying intensely for these ones so dear to me.  Tom and I pray together, as well (in better hours for the both of us!).

God seems to be working mightily in the lives of some of these loved ones I’ve been praying for and for that I am exceedingly happy.  I know, from my own long life, that God DOES answer prayers, and most times, in ways that are beyond my comprehension and “out of the blue” as far as how the details fall together.

One young man who is a dear friend, as if a son, started  a new job today in a place that is brand new to him and different.  I just texted him and told him we pray he is having a good day and that we are thinking of him and praying for him today in his work.  For me, these prayers began about 2 a.m. this morning.

Another dear friend has a big – make that HUGE – weekend coming up this coming weekend and we are praying that God will bless him and show him the way to a better future.

I am – we both – are praying for family members going through strife and difficult circumstances.

Then, there is the world at large, where other Christians we know are suffering from sometimes terrible tragedies, and millions of people hunger and suffer in their daily lives.

How do we pray for these people we do not know personally and come to truly understand their plight?  It seems to me that we do our part by praying for those we know personally and have relationships with and project that to those more distant from us.  God knows our hearts when we turn to Him for answers and in gratitude for the many blessings already received.  As one friend said the other day on his blog, in asking for prayers for he and his family, “God knows the details.”  Yes, my friends, God DOES!!

So, I begin my prayers with gratitude for His love, His Son, His blessings, His goodness, for as I often begin my prayers, all good things in my life – our lives – come from God.

So, for today, if you will – try to remember that one thing.  All good things and goodness in our lives – in this world – come from God and Jesus Christ, His Son.  I think, no matter what is going on in your life, it will be a bit better in remembering this.

Many blessings to each of you today!  Dee

P. S.  Tom is doing better every day and we thank God for this lovely weather we have during his recuperation period.  Yes, God IS good.

I said this and the next two or three posts would be to “wrap up” last November’s Andrews Family Memories Tour of 2009.  This is obviously not one of them.  Question:  There are still some funny stories ahead in the trip as we tried to end it – which almost didn’t happen.  Would you like for me to finish them – and the trip – up before I go on?  Or just move on without sharing the last several stories?  I throw the vote to you.  Were you enjoying the trip enough to hear the rest.  (There are, actually, some of the funniest moments ahead, now that I sit here and think about it.  I’m just wishy-washy at the moment.)

Of course, it’s my decision in the end.  If I can get my mind together.  It’s  just that while I’ve had every intention to do so, March so far has been “Doctor” month so far, with me having already seen four of my specialists, with a couple more still to come.  We started off the month with my birthday/our anniversary, I’ve had several other out-of-town appointments lined up, and then there was the fun visit last Friday over in the Gulfport airport to meet Patrick Mead and Les Ferguson, afterward having dinner with friends.

There have been some other things going on as well that I cannot freely discuss.  Let’s just say that my life has been a bit frazzled!!  Just a BIT!!

Frazzled is a great word, isn’t it?  I could have said stressed, but frazzled sounds a little lighter than stressed, and I need all of the lightness in my life I can get.

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

I’m thinking once again of writing a book and would like your input on this, too.  I’ve wanted to write a book (and have written several small ones – self-published – along with some published articles and lots of newspaper columns and stories) since I was 21 years old.  The great American novel.  I’ve even had the title and the basic outline for it in my head since 21.  That’s a long time to ruminate on something, but not do it.  Over the years I always wrote, no matter what else I was doing.  I am a writer.

My style actually grew to be what they call “New Journalism,” which is writing non-fiction work about whatever your subject is with great creativity, interjecting/immersing yourself into the “story” as an observer.  Much New Journalism is very witty, satirical, humorous and the kind of reading you can’t put down once you’ve started it.  Hunter S. Thompson.  Tom Wolfe.  Joan Didion.  Gay Talese.  Truman Capote.  Those are some of the masters.

Okay – if I do that, it would have to be the great American New Journalism book, instead of the great American novel.  So . . . my questions are:

(1)  Do you think I should go for it?  Do you think I write well enough and/or in that style for anyone to want to buy my book to read?

(2)  What subject(s) would you like to see me tackle?

Actually, I could (and have thought about this at length over the years, as well) put together a group of my short non-fiction stories to form a book.  An anthology.  That would work well with some of the stories I’ve done here on my blog (i.e., the Arkansas Memories tour doctored up, comes to mind), including the three I had y’all read and vote on a couple of years ago for the local writer’s group contest.  If you remember, I won first place with one of my stories, all three placed and all three were published in the Anthology that year.  (Go to my sidebar and look under Wind Vane stories to find them.  Or email me here or comment if you want me to post the links back to them.  I’m lazy at the moment.  Haven’t gotten used to the time change yet this week.  I’m struggling.  How about you?)

I could (started it, actually) call the book “Finding Direction: The Wind Vane Chronicles.”  You like that?  Or no?

*   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *   *

Time to go.  Tom will be home for lunch in a few minutes, so I need to (want to) go start working on preparing him a good lunch so it will be ready when he gets home.  That way, he can sit and read his book while eating at our kitchen table and watching the birds eating at their feeder out on the back deck.  I sit with him and we talk.  He then lies in his recliner to rest a bit, maybe read a bit more, before going back to work.  It’s a nice break for him during the day, one which he loves much more than he realized he would before we moved out here.

God has richly blessed us with this lovely place we live here on the wooded hill above the creek.  Hardwoods fill our lot, unlike most of the landscape around here which is covered with scrawny pines.  We have dozens of magnolia trees, which are lovely – always filled with their waxy green leaves.  Only a few, though, are female trees that have magnificent blooms come May and June.

Comment and help me out here today.  Like I say, I’ve had a sluggish, but busy week and cannot get my mind together.  (Plus, I had my eyes dilated yesterday when I saw the retinologist and still cannot see worth a flip.  I’m having to put my face up close to the screen here to see to write because my vision is so blurry and my pupils so extended.)

Many blessings to each of you today!!  Dee

Tell you what – if I don’t have, can’t find an answer for you, I’ll do some research to try to do so or pass your question along to someone who does have an answer for you, how about that?

In exchange (to be fair here, you understand), I’ll ask y’all a question.  Just one.  Okay, more than one.  Y’all know I can’t stop at one  question, after all.  There’s too much of a journalist left in me.  I always want to know the who, what, where, when and how (and/or why).

So, enlighten me a bit.  I could use some enlightening this morning, I’m telling ya.

Where are you coming by here from, i.e., what state, town, country, place?  I’m just curious about how you’ve ended up here at Finding Direction, how long you’ve been dropping by and for what reasons.  In other words, tell me a bit about yourself, even if you wish to remain anonymous.

That’s it!

So, let the commenting begin.  If you’ve never commented before, all you have to do is fill in the first box with your name, or pseudonym, or “Anonymous,” and the second box with your email address (which will not show on here, but only verifies to me alone that you’re a “real” person.   The third box, which says URL, is only for those of you who have a website address you wish to post.  If you don’t have a website or don’t wish to reveal it, to comment just leave your/a name and your email address, which comes only to me.  That’s it!  It’s simple.

Can’t wait to hear from you with your questions and revelations about yourselves.

Cheers!  And many blessings to you today!  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