The Words of Angelou

Famed poet Dr. Maya Angelou must be one of the most quotable people on the planet. Here are two of her responses from a recent interview.

Q. What is the best advice you could give us?

A. "That we could all, every morning, put down ignorance like an object and leave it behind as we enter the day."

Q. What would you most wish for others?

A. "Courage – because without it, we can practice none of the other virtues."

The Brolin Connection

Mike and I watched the Academy Awards last night. We watch all the award shows. When Josh Brolin took the stage as a presenter, Mike immediately made two observations:
(1) Josh now looks just like his dad, and
(2) he’d changed a lot since Mike had last seen him.

You recall that Mike used to play with Tony Joe White – Polk Salad Annie, Rainy Night in Georgia, and so forth. The next step in this seven degrees (or less) of separation is that Tony Joe owned a ranch and rode Appaloosa horses. James Brolin also owned Appaloosa horses. That’s how Tony Joe and Brolin became friends.

This was back in the day when Brolin was extremely popular as young Dr. Kiley on the Marcus Welby tv show. As it happens with many actors, Brolin decided that he wanted to cut a record, and he called on his friend Tony Joe to bring his band and meet with him to pursue the subject.

And that’s how Mike came to hang out for a few days at James Brolin’s house in the Hollywood Hills. The large property featured a big, lovely home, stables and space for his Appaloosas to romp. Brolin’s birthday fell during the visit, so Tony Joe brought him a ping-pong table. Mike remembers all of them putting the table together and playing several games over the next few days. On the first night, they were Brolin’s guests for dinner at his home, and the cook prepared a tasty Mexican dinner. They basically just hung out together for the next few days. Mike remembers a basketball game played behind some recording studio.

Brolin was a great guy and very down to earth. In fact, when Brolin took the group to the airport on the day they left, Mike noticed that, as usual, folks were snapping photos. He presumed they were just taking note of Tony. Then he remembered – oh yeah, Jim’s famous. Josh, who was four or five at the time, was a typical, rambunctious kid having a super time running around the house and yard.

Brolin ultimately came to Memphis for a recording session using Mike and the rest of Tony’s band, but nothing came of it. Brolin is an excellent actor, handsome guy, and reportedly a fine husband to Barbra Streisand. A singer? Not so much.

Wining Streak Interrupted

It's a sad night in River City.

The final score of the biggest basketball game in Tennessee history was 66 - 62 in the Vols' favor. It was an exciting although disappointing, game and everyone got their money's worth -- including the guy who paid $5,000 for his seat in the Tigers' house.

Each team was seven points up at times in the game, and, at others, each edged ahead by only one point. It was a rough game with injuries on both sides. Both teams played their hearts out but, in the end, UT took home the prize. Commentators described the Memphis crowd as "stunned."

The only good news is that this wasn't a conference game. The bad news is that we owe my East TN cousin and his wife a big dinner. I wonder if they like the Golden Arches.

Go Tigers!

If you're not a basketball fan, you may not know that the roundball game of the century is taking place tomorrow (Saturday) night in Memphis.

The U/Mem Tigers are unbeaten and ranked #1 in the nation. Way to the east side of the state, you'll find the UT Vols -- ranked #2 nationally. How completely exciting it is to have the two top-ranked teams from Tennessee.

And tomorrow night, they meet here at the FedEx Forum for a big stakes, high emotion game. I heard that there may be two vacant hotel rooms left in the metro area. Restaurant and club owners on Beale St. (a short walk from the Forum) are licking their lips. They expect tomorrow night to be equivalent to a New Year's Eve in revenues.

Last year, we played the Vols on their home court and they beat us by double digits. They're good, but we're even better this year. Our Coach Cal has been trying to keep the public's expectations in check for the last couple of games. He says, "The boys aren't machines. We'll probably lose one or two games before the end of the season."

We don't want this to be the one. There was always rivalry between the two schools, but this year it's multiplied by infinity.

U/Mem is my alma matter. I'll probably have to wear blue & gray to work tomorrow. I have a cousin over in the mountains of East TN who's a UT grad. I emailed him a couple of days ago with a friendly wager, but I haven't heard from him. Hmmmm

Everybody in Memphis is psyched for this -- even Graceland, Elvis' home. It was announced today that the bulbs of the more than 100 outdoor spotlights have been replaced with blue bulbs in honor of the Tigers. They will go on at 7 p.m. tonight and stay on through tomorrow night. The Graceland folks are calling it Operation Blue Suede Shoes.

Life as Lucy Ricardo - 'Elementary' Math

Substitute teaching at the elementary school down the road from us in an Atlanta suburb was pretty easy. The teachers were well organized, and there was always a roll book and lesson plan within easy reach. The day’s schedule was outlined, and I just had to check these important documents and glide through the day with what was usually a great group of kidletts.

So early one morning when I got a call for yet another fourth grade assignment that day, I didn’t hesitate. I jumped up, dressed, and drove down to the school. After taking roll, our first task was to check the previous night’s math homework. No biggie. I asked the children to exchange papers with a neighbor, then I reached for the answer book. But it wasn’t there. It wasn’t anywhere in the desk. The kids were waiting, and I was having a panic attack.

For those who don’t know me well, I need to pause and explain that I’m seriously math deficient. My eyes glaze over when number stuff comes up. And I don’t even care any more. I know how to operate a calculator. So there.

On that day, however, looking at the “new math” assignment the children had completed, I knew I’d never figure out the answers on my own, and yet all those sweet, expectant faces were gazing up at me. I also knew that fourth graders are savvy enough about subs that they can spot a chink in your armor from a mile away. And then they attack and devour you. Nothing left but a mangled hall pass. I had to do something fast before they could see me sweat.

In a move that was either genius or desperation, I announced that we would be putting the homework problems on the board. I called up three children at a time to put the same problem on the board. If they’d all done it the same way – and with the same answer – I could confidently proclaim that to be the proper answer. When there was a variance in the three problems, I turned to class participation, otherwise known as voting. Is that your final answer?

“And who believes that this is the correct way to solve the problem?” Another benefit of that approach is that I quickly spotted a little girl on the front row (it’s always those front-row kids) who was obviously good at math. In a split vote, I went with her opinion. I wonder if she knew that she was teaching the class.

I may write a survival guide for substitutes.

Client Revisit

Since we’re deep in the heart of taxes and many of you were not readers at this time last year, I’ve decided to do a rerun. It’s sort of like the Jay Leno Show during the writers’ strike. Here you have The Clients.

I've always associated John Grisham with Oxford, Ms. You know -- Ole Miss, antebellum homes, etc. Well it turns out that one of his first law offices was right here in Southaven -- in the building that now houses our insurance agency. Mike says that, to honor the author, they have some Grisham movie posters on the walls. So, with no offense to Mr. Grisham and with names eliminated to protect absolutely everyone -- I present The Clients.

One of our recent tax clients was a fellow Mike says is legendary and has played with "everyone" including Rita Coolidge and for 15-20 years with Kris Kristofferson. He appeared in several Kristofferson movies including Honeysuckle Rose.

Speaking of movies, the former guitar player with Mike's band used to play in a jazz trio. They were hired back in the ‘90s to play in the rooftop party scene in The Firm, filmed here in Memphis. They were supposed to play three tunes so, being smart musician fellows, they sat down and wrote three songs which they used in the movie. Result -- they're still making a little money off that gig.

And speaking of movies again, there's our friend the seven-foot tall painter. Even with my vision, I always recognize him when he walks in the office door. He's the only client who has to duck. When Mike first hired him to do some office painting years ago, Mike looked around at the equipment and asked about the absence of ladders. Our friend explained that on indoor jobs, he just doesn't need them.

Anyway, when Grisham's Painted House was being filmed in Arkansas, our client's name came up and he was hired to paint sets (based on skill, not height). As a result, he's frequently hired by movie companies that are filming in the South.

Not a movie -- yet. A nice couple saw our ad in the paper and came in -- Hurricane Katrina survivors. They made it a point that they're not from The City, but from the bayou country. . . which was obvious from their familiar, heavy accents. They'd been on their own after the storm for several days when they made it to the airport. She told me that "they" kept putting the couple in different lines, and they never knew what the line was for anyway. After enough lines, they finally were able to board a plane. They'd gotten out with only the clothes they were wearing and didn't know where the plane was taking them. As it turned out, they were headed to East Tennessee and Al Gore was on board.

They eventually got themselves to the Memphis area where she had a relative, but they want desperately to go home. She said that it's too cold here and she can't find the food she wants in the grocery stores. He was a commercial fisherman and now works as a forklift driver in a warehouse. She said that 12 hours a day cooped up inside is driving him crazy. They're saving their money and hoping to get back down to the coast.

(note: We haven’t heard from them yet this year. I’m hoping that they’re back in bayou country.)

And finally. I promise this is true. There was a visit from clients Mary and Joseph. Mike figured their taxes and the refund came to $666. He said to himself, "No way." Refigured, changed some numbers and came up with a much more divine refund for the two.

postscript: In addition to the blues and rock and jazz musicians and songwriters and casino employees and even clowns, last year we added our first rap artist. His stage name is Lil Wyte and he’s associated with Three 6 Mafia, a Memphis group with a national following. Patrick impressed us as an extremely nice, polite young man.

Bonnie & Clyde - Up Close & Personal

You just never know what you’re going to find out when relatives read your blog. Cousin Grace called a few days ago to check on us after the tornadoes and, as we continued chatting, she mentioned that she’s a regular reader and had enjoyed the “Not Exactly Bonnie & Clyde” recent post.

We chatted on, and Grace said, “You know, mother met Bonnie Parker.”

Now she had my complete attention.

Grace is the youngest child of my mother’s older sister. Our mothers and the rest of their family lived in Shawnee, Oklahoma from about 1928-1931 when mother was a tiny tot. Aunt Mary was 10 years older so she would have been entering her teens.

The way Aunt Mary told the story, there was a lady who lived nearby in Shawnee and who my aunt liked to visit. One day my aunt went to see her friend and was surprised to be rebuffed. The lady looked a little nervous and told Aunt Mary that she couldn’t invite her in – that she had company. About that time, a younger woman came to the door, spoke briefly with my aunt and excused her.

The next time my aunt went calling, the neighbor lady explained that she had not been able to invite her in because of her daughter’s visit -- -- and that her daughter was Bonnie Parker of Bonnie & Clyde notoriety. The lady appeared to be afraid of her daughter – or maybe of people finding out who they were.

It’s a fascinating story. Falling back on my reporter training, I wanted to substantiate that Emma Parker had lived in Shawnee, but I was unable to. Bonnie met Clyde (not to be confused with when Harry met Sally) in 1930 when Bonnie was living with her mother in the west Dallas community called Cement City. When Bonnie & Clyde were killed in 1934, Emma Parker was notified at her Cement City home.

Shortly after the Romeo & Juliet of crime met, Clyde was sent to jail and broke out with a gun that Bonnie had smuggled in. I didn’t determine where he was jailed, so perhaps being out of state was related to that and would have been in the right time frame. If the Shawneee event occurred in ’31 – when the crime spree had begun – the Shawnee encounter might have been related to one of the “picnics” arranged so B&C could see their families. It’s possible that Emma was there for a longer visit waiting for her daughter to arrive.

Now we have a mystery. If anybody has ideas or info, please send them this way.

Storms Revisited

A friend sent us the above photo of the actual tornado that sat down one mile from our tax office. Once again I will say that we're very grateful to have gone untouched.

It's a Teeny World After All

We have an associate in the tax office this year. When Mike and Eric were chatting about the possibility of his being in our office, Eric described the client base he’d bring and that, among it, was a substantial number of Moroccans from the surprisingly large Moroccan community in north MS.

Saturday evening one of his Moroccan clients plus American wife and children came into the office for an appointment. Here’s how that conversation went.

ME: I’m really glad to meet you. One of my nieces has been living in Morocco for the past two years.

HIM: No kidding. Does she like it?

ME: Oh yes. Of course, their environment has changed since they moved. First they were in Ajadir and now they’re in Casablanca.

HIM: Really! I’m from Ajadir.

ME: Really! Well, that’s a coincidence.

HIM: Yeah, as a matter of fact when we were returning from a visit home in ’06 we met a couple of American girls who were on the same flights we were. (turning to his wife) They were teachers, weren’t they?

ME: My niece and her girlfriend are teachers.

HIM: I think they were from Arkansas.

ME: Omigod, that’s where they’re from. That’s them. They told me about traveling with a nice family.

And that’s just how teeny-tiny the world is between our tax office and Morocco. What do you suppose the odds are for this happening?

Bonnie & Clyde II -- Bloody Shiloh

After managing to stay out of the small-town pokey (see Bonnie & Clyde below), the getaway, middle-Tennessee weekend was peaceful and entertaining.
The lake and grounds at Pickwick Dam were well worth the trip. The dam was dramatic, and the water level was really high. The attention-getter of the weekend, however, was Shiloh National Military Park – better known as Bloody Shiloh.

A historian wrote: “No soldier who took part in the two day’s engagement at Shiloh ever spoiled for a fight again,” recalled one Union veteran. “We wanted a square, stand-up fight [and] got all we wanted of it.”

The two days at Shiloh became the bloodiest battle in US history to that time.

The battle was fought on April 6 and 7, 1862. At the end of the first day, Southern troops had killed or captured thousands of Union soldiers and acquired substantial quantities of Yankee supplies. So confident of an impending victory were the Rebs that on the night of the 6th, Gen. P.G.T. Beauregard sent a telegram to Confederate President Jeff Davis declaring “A Complete Victory!” Events changed that night and subsequently changed not only the course of the Shiloh battle, but perhaps the outcome of the war.

Southern Gen. Sidney Johnston received a serious injury in the day’s fight and bled to death later in the afternoon. There are many who believe that his command staff was thrown into confusion due to his loss and delayed pursuing the confrontation until morning. Those experts believe that, had Johnston lived, he would have continued the fight and that the South would have prevailed at Shiloh. Had there been a decisive Southern win at that point in the war . . . well, the end result might have been quite different.

Additionally, unknown to Beauregard, thousands of troops under the command of Maj. Gen. Don Carlos Buell were arriving under the cloak of darkness to reinforce Gen. Ulysses S. Grant’s army. Grant’s combined armies now totaled 45,000. On the other side of the field, having lost more than 8,000 men to death or injury on the 6th and experiencing some desertions in the tumultuous night that followed, the Southern troop count was down to nearly 20,000.

The night of the 6th was threaded with the rising and falling, never-ending screams and moans of the dying soldiers of both armies strewn across the fields between the two encampments. Union gunboats on the Tennessee River lighted the skies and assaulted the ears as they bombarded the battlefields until dawn. As if the scene needed more drama, a thunderstorm raged throughout the night signaling the upheaval which would come with the new day.

At first light, confident Beauregard launched an attack not knowing that he was vastly outnumbered.

The horrendous battle raged all day. As Mike and I gazed at the peaceful pool of water a little more than 100 years later, it was hard to imagine the scene on the day it was named Bloody Pond. Wounded in both blue and gray uniforms painfully crawled to the pool to get relief for their parched throats and to cool their fevers. So many came to the water and so many died there that the pool was stained crimson with their heroes’ blood.

It was a tragic day for both sides of the battle lines. Lives were lost. Men were maimed. Grant’s army won the day.

Photos above: Mike at the Tennessee River; me at Bloody Pond

We're OK

Many of you have heard or read about the horrible line of storms that plowed through this area yesterday afternoon and night, and I’ve had a few inquiries about our safety. Fortunately, our home, office and family are fine. That almost sounds like bragging in the face of the devastation, injuries and deaths in our immediate area. Whether it is or not, we’re grateful.

I was at home to be here for Alex’s arrival from his clubhouse program. Mike was still at the office. He had just completed a client’s taxes – while tornado sirens started blaring – and she left to try to get home. Bad idea. She got a half block away when she noticed something just ahead that looked like a fire. Suddenly she realized that it was swirling debris and that it was a tornado. She made a fast U-turn and sped back to our office. Mike said she pulled into the parking lot fast and parked sideways, jumping out of her car and running to the front door. Mike, the client and the afternoon secretary went into the office’s central hall and stayed there til the danger passed. Some time during the excitement the power went off. That always ramps up the anxiety level.

The tornado spotted by the client landed just a mile east of our office and did tremendous damage. A few miles of the office’s street are blocked off today for clean up. There were injuries at that strike, but thankfully no fatalities as there were elsewhere in Memphis.

Meanwhile, Alex and I were at the house, tornado sirens wailing – and with no electricity. Before the power went off, I had moved us into the laundry room which is in the center of the house. Mike and I called each other on cell phones to check on each other. As Alex and I sat there in the dark, listening to the wind and sirens, he turned to me and asked, “Do you know what we’re having for dinner?”

Some people just have their priorities firmly in order.

The photo above was taken by our niece Lisa.

Not Exactly Bonnie & Clyde

Not long after Mike and I were married the first time, we decided to take a long weekend trip to Savannah, TN on the Tennessee River. It’s in the lovely middle Tennessee area of rolling, green hills and only a short hop to Pickwick lake and dam as well as Shiloh National Military Park. Nice prospects for a quiet weekend.

We planned to get away at a decent time and arrive before dark. We were going to take our chances on finding a place to stay, but didn’t anticipate any problem. Since life frequently fails to proceed as planned, we didn’t get out of Memphis on schedule, and it was late when we drove into the little town of Savannah. Streets were deserted and it looked like the whole town was shut down.

Seems like we had seen a billboard out on the highway about an old-fashioned tourist court in town, so Mike was squinting for street names (not that there were many). We were driving very slowly. That was about when Mike noticed that we were being followed. And that made us both very nervous. At about the same time, Mike realized that we were a block off from the street we should be on, and he saw an alley where we could cut through to the next block.

He made a quick turn into the alley and checked the rearview mirror as he did, hoping to throw off the stalker as well. The car behind us turned sharply into the alley, too. Our fear factor shot up another defcom level. And then the vehicle behind us started flashing its rooftop blue, bubblegum lights. Busted.

I should take a moment to describe what the nice officer saw when he spotted us. I looked pretty straight, but had the popular long hair of the day. Mike had the bushy hair and long mustache of the rock ‘n roll musician that he was. And, of course, there was the car we were driving: a blue, ‘66 Chevelle SS with a 396 engine, four speed and racing slicks. And the final sin – a Memphis (translation: big city) license plate.

By the way, I had nothing to do with buying that car. Mike said it was a good deal on the used car. Miss Know-Nothing About Cars didn’t know we had a “rod.” Currently, Mike doesn’t even know what possessed him to buy it.

What I expect the nice lawman saw was a couple of big-city, longhaired kids in a souped-up car acting mighty suspicious in his little town. And that’s when he pulled us over.

He shined his light into the car, asked for ID on both of us, and asked Mike a thousand questions. He naturally thought we had zipped into the alley to elude him, and I can understand that. Mike tried to explain “lost.” Through the entire process, I sat in the car picturing myself behind bars. But Mike and the truth prevailed. The officer gave us directions to the little motel. And then followed us to make sure we went there. By the time Mike went inside to check in, he was so rattled that he had to sign the register three times before he got it right. No, that wasn’t suspicious, was it?

The remainder of the weekend was crime-free. We spotted no undercover agents following us. The smell of freedom was sweet.

To be continued . . .