Posts Tagged ‘Laurie’

How My Family Makes The News

01 Nov


How About Shoelacebooks?


Date: Mon Nov 1, 1999 12:40:17 PM

...and I don't know how to shake either of their trees for fruit.

I LOVE your natural ability to use analogies. What happened to my natural ability? I've had to struggle at everything I attempted to do. Not complaining, just "statin' the facts" as I see 'em.

But back to your site. You would need a domain name, or at least I'd recommend it. Have you hit on anything you like yet?

I plan to use a company name of: The Scholar's Press. What do you think about that? But as for a domain name, nothing yet. I have used the word "obviously" 3 previous times in this one post. When Steven tells me that something is "obvious", it always sounds SO VERY "smartie pants". I must find another word to use! Now, on to the family news....

Charlie appeared at my house Saturday. He will be moving in with Daddy in the apt. on Clyde and Meri's property in around 7-8 weeks. With Mother moving to Chicago, Dad will move in the apt. and Clyde will be renting his house on Lenora Church Rd to Joel, who works for him. He is selling his Mossey Creek house.

Later dude,


Two Forks In The Road

14 Jan


"Ballad of the Fork & Spoon" by G.Thy


Gabriel, hope that I answer the questions you had in mind—but the Europe trip report will have to wait—today another rush to leave by noon for Jax to catch a flight to Miami. Of course to see KK but she won't be home tonight, so we will go on to Ft. Lauderdale to see a boat David put a contract on yesterday—sight unseen. Then we will stay with Karen and Gary on Friday and maybe Sat nights.

Chip's boat that was Gary and Karen's sold that first week for $25,000. So sorry that I did not get back with that information. Don't worry, David will have other boats in and out and I'm sure one will most likely be just right for you. What price range do you have in mind?

You are right about your Granddaddy and steaks. One of my favorite memories is having steak and eggs for breakfast (any steak left over usually from Fri or Sat night splurge at the grocery store on payday). Oddly enough, I am reminded of this every time I have traveled to Europe, mainly because steak and eggs are a regular breakfast in most of the places we go, and people in Europe hold their fork and knife in the familiar way that Daddy ate—fork in the left hand, never putting the knife down from the right. In fact I will tell you about a gift I had put aside to give you in September, but the time was never just right for the occasion.  The night you came to dinner was my plan but somehow when Tina did not return to the table, it threw me off track.  It is one of two forks Daddy ALWAYS ate with, we had five smaller forks, one for each girls and Mama and two dinner size forks that we DADDY's only.  I gave Karen one last summer and always planned to give the other to you at some special moment (the way we are traveling, I should not wait for the "right" time, although Karen has been aware that the matching fork to hers is for you and would see that you get it).  I'm also giving you the extra place for Sue to use as MaaMaa's fork.

I hope you'll be pleased—after all it is only befitting that a man once named Spalding should have it (Karen's middle name is Kenan). I love you dear nephew and hope you know you were the "apple of your Granddaddy's eye " too, not to leave out that you certainly were the darling of MaaMaa! There were never any spoons or knives to "match" these forks by the way, just odd pieces that were always there ever since I can remember. Mardis may have given them to Mama and Daddy. One thing Evey was always known for is been generous with strings attached!  Well I do request one small favor—that one day you or Sue see to it that Daddy's big fork along with the token of Mama get to another of the clan with one of his names, named for him.  Thanks, and forgive me for asking because I think that you and Sue would do that anywayMuch love to you, David is here now so I must leave with this unfinished letter.

Laurie's book, I can't wait! I tried to buy a painting of John's through Peggy, told her I'd spend $300-$500 sight unseen at his or her choice but I never got anything or even a response from your brother John.

Love to you my sweet,


Thurs. January 14, 1999

Or Long Parallax Mapping the Unknown Wink And Nod

12 Oct


Loss is loss...


Sister forwarded me this untidy question. Wrote back telling her not to worry. Hoax, isn't it, she asked. Sister and husband, hardcore fundamentalists, emphasis on hardcore and fundamentalists. Amazing Mark was worshipping inside RFK Stadium last weekend. Half million strong masculine Promise Keepers rally. Reportage, parallax crew, Channel 9. Didn't hear from Amazing Mark, not even cheap ring, although sister e-mailed that I might if he must. Reside a mere two and one-half blocks away, but floating decimal point crime zone is deterrent to uninitiated. Turns out church crew turned in. Bussed out immediately with zero time for extenuating family wink and nod, driving back to Atlanta overnight to arrive just in time for sunrise Sunday service. Anywaze, proxy hoaxes are enough to sweep this observer back into typewriter and rotary telephone age, given dynamics it took for trinity branch to go wired in first place. Hicks, neither Amazing Mark nor sister attached personal commentary to fast forward hoax interrogatory.

No hoax attached to entry level politeness. Can't recall from memory what mapping she wanted to clarify. Seems data points got lost in shuffle of years and data dump of March 21, 2003. Date will live lifestyle of infamy—for would be same observer's first and only attempt in hacking Terminal, yes, already infamous Bitterzone Terminal, made manifest at 318.63 feet above sea level...

When I realized what had happened, experienced quietly, a surreal moment. No red flags, no anger, no bitterness, no crisis, no panic. You've heard many times of an event so overwhelming, so complete, it knocks breath and anxiety right out of you, like exploding powder into the remaining spill. So was as if great weight lifted, put on shelf life, an established life of average to near genius, recycled, overcooked canned goods which saved a generation. Stunned was this observer this happened right before my own spoiled eyes. They have seen the glory. The coming of the sword. Had to rely on muscles not machines. Pick and shovel, steam shocks and accumulative error.

File recovery utility used to grab bundle of files packed into digital equivalent of file cabinet full of papers and folders dredged from river basin in black scoop of mud and water. This note, evidence of subterranean recovery. My bulging body of correspondence with Steve, Lynn, Richard, Jennifer, Tom, and other fine feathers suffered the most, although my 900 page novel untitled vanished, lost to progress.
Confident, prepared myself for successful hack, MacBible turned to page where one mere line of code seemed simple enough, even for terminal virgin. Need for ginning up guts to enter terminal also simple enough. For weeks voice recognition application squatted desktop fated for trash can. App just couldn't nail my accent. Was doing no harm, but taunting me, for it knew I was known to keep clutter-free desktop. MacBible, aware that rogue icons occasionally refused to go away quietly in early version of OS X software, provided solution in quantum burst of few words and kinetic characters.

Fired up terminal, navigated successfully to proper node, typing in string of code to dispose of rogue icon. Poof, watched little bugger disappear. Then reached with right hand across keyboard to grab tall glass of iced water kept on flat desk environment. Flash message, gone too quick to read. Next. Massive screen flutter. After second or two, screen activity ceases until quarter minute later message appears stating all user's personal data was erased.

No undo possible.

Sigh. Note date. Confirm Sue—chief engineer of die Librahausen—out of town. Impeccably. Always seems to be when I commit colossal zig when should have zagged. Don't think reach across keyboard wrong. But to this day, years later, don't know why ten years of data, emails, artwork, other personal files were zapped. Simply walked away. Massive weight of creative loss transmuted to an unbearable lightness of being not felt in better part of two decades. Would retrieve some restitution from webserver. File recovery utility used to grab bundle of files packed into digital equivalent of file cabinet full of papers and folders dredged from river basin in black scoop of mud and water...

This note, evidence of subterranean recovery.

My bulging body of correspondence with Steve, Lynn, Richard, Jennifer, Tom, and other fine feathers suffered the most, although my 900 page novel untitled vanished, lost to progress. Cared less about that monstrosity than intimate sentiment fellow writers offered...



"Ignorance and virtue suck on the same straw. Souls grow on bones, but die beneath bankers' hours.""