Today is the anniversary of the last day of the Battle of New Orleans. At the Camp Thomas McGuire  SCV meeting, Ted Brode, our presenter, told us of the battle. Fascinating! This is a battle that our ancestors knew by heart, but like so many other important points in history, has been neglected by the new historians. One of the most fascinating points of his lecture concerned the fact that some of the American units fighting the British were comprised of Blacks, Choctaws, Creoles, Tennesseans, and even a unit of lawyers. There is also a group who reenact this battle. I’ll post more information on them at a later time.

This site, (worth reading in its entirety)  http://lsm.crt.state.la.us/cabildo/cab6.htm, says this of the battle:

Finally, on January 8, the day commemorated today as the victory day in the Battle of New Orleans, two British generals, including Major General Pakenham, were killed in battle, with a third severely wounded. Soldiers described battlefield action as confused and haphazard in the dark hours of that foggy morning. Britain suffered over 2,000 casualties in that decisive battle, whereas Jackson lost only 71 men. The British forces withdrew through Lake Borgne and into the Gulf, firing on Fort St. Philip for over a week before sailing out to sea for good.

Here are the lyrics of the ballad that celebrates our victory. I found the lyrics here: http://www.cowboylyrics.com/lyrics/classic-country/battle-of-new-orleans—johnny-horton-14929.html

“Battle of New Orleans”  by Johnny Horton

In 1814 we took a little trip
Along with Colonel Jackson down the mighty Mississip.
We took a little bacon and we took a little beans
And we caught the bloody British in the town of New Orleans.

[Chorus:]
We fired our guns and the British kept a’comin.
There wasn’t nigh as many as there was a while ago.
We fired once more and they began to runnin’ on
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.

We looked down the river and we see’d the British come.
And there must have been a hundred of’em beatin’ on the drum.
They stepped so high and they made the bugles ring.
We stood by our cotton bales and didn’t say a thing.

[Chorus]

Old Hickory said we could take ’em by surprise
If we didn’t fire our muskets ’til we looked ’em in the eye
We held our fire ’til we see’d their faces well.
Then we opened up with squirrel guns and really gave ’em … well

[Chorus]

Yeah, they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles
And they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn’t go.
They ran so fast that the hounds couldn’t catch ’em
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.**

We fired our cannon ’til the barrel melted down.
So we grabbed an alligator and we fought another round.
We filled his head with cannon balls, and powdered his behind
And when we touched the powder off, the gator lost his mind.

[Chorus]

Yeah, they ran through the briars and they ran through the brambles
And they ran through the bushes where a rabbit couldn’t go.
They ran so fast that the hounds couldn’t catch ’em
Down the Mississippi to the Gulf of Mexico.**

During one of my recent author journeys to Texas, I met Ray Ivey, Director of Administration for the Azle Independent School District in Azle, Texas. He had served in Vietnam as a helicopter pilot, the first I’ve ever met personally, though I’ve had many friends who had served in Vietnam. He served in Vietnam from April 1969-April 1970 with the 189th Assault Helicopter Company, Ghost Riders, 52nd Aviation Battalion, 17th Aviation Group. As we talked, I concluded that he is one of the most genuine and personable administrators I’ve ever met. School districts that employ administrators like him are sure to do well and serve both students and community.

Mr. Ivey gave me a book entitled, Reach Out Your Hand: Touching People with the Love of Jesus. The stories in the book were compiled by Lewis F. Shaffer, a well-known local historian and author. The book contained a story he wrote, “Aircraft Down,” a true account, that I wanted to share with you in today’s blog entry. Ivey’s story in its entirety is lifted from pp. 108-111 of Shaffer’s book.

AIRCRAFT DOWN

We got the call “aircraft down.” The recovery team scrambled and launched in our recovery helicopter within minutes. We were well trained for this mission, but this one had a new twist. We would have to go into the crash site on wire rope ladders. The training we had was in route to the site–about a thirty-minute flight.

Once over the downed aircraft, our bird hovered and we rolled out the ladders. As team leader, I went down first, swinging and swaying until I was on top of the downed aircraft. The trees, where the aircraft crashed were too high to allow our aircraft to hover any lower. With all my weight, I held down on the ladder so it would not swing as much, and down came my team members.

Wind and noise were detractors, but there was no sign of the enemy and having no enemy fire was a welcome relief in a touchy recovery operation. The area was secured by South Vietnamese soldiers in a security perimeter around the site.

One on the ground, we rigged the aircraft to allow a larger aircraft to pick up the damaged one as it hung below a larger aircraft, it would be flown as a dangling mass of metal to an airfield for repair.

We radioed that we were ready for the “big bird” to come in and pick up its payload. the call was answered, “Negative, Caretaker 6. No big birds available. we are coming in to pick you up. Aircraft pickup set for tomorrow.”

“Negative to tomorrow,” I said over the radio. “If we leave it here, Charlie will be ready for us tomorrow. Let’s reset some priorities and get the big bird out today.”

“Negative on today, Caretaker; the sun is setting soon and we’re coming in for you. The ARVN (Army of the Republic of Vietnam) will secure the area.”

“That’s crazy,” I said. “Charlie will zero his mortars and artillery for the pickup tomorrow; we put ourselves at risk; we put the aircraft at risk; we have to go now!” I shouted. “I am telling you . . .”

“Break, break, this is Ghost Rider 6. Cease and desist. Get on the aircraft and get your team out of there! Do you read me?”

“Roger. Caretaker 6; out.”

The pickup Huey was over us in seconds. Down came the wire rope ladders. As we stood on top of the downed aircraft, one by one the team climbed up as we held the bottom of the rope ladder to keep it taught. Then there was me, and I began to climb, but no one was there to hold the rope ladder taut. It began to swing and sway and was very difficult to climb. As the bottom rungs swung around, they caught on a piece of the downed aircraft,a nd I felt the ladder go taut and looked to see why. I could see the ladder start to slip, and I laced my arms and legs through the rungs and braced for the inevitable snap that could pop me off the ladder. It came and I held on but was totally drained of energy. Then sporadic enemy fire erupted and grew as Charlie took the chance to shoot down another Huey. The ARVN returned fire. Our recovery bird opened up with suppressive fire from their M-60 machine guns as our aircraft hung in the air like a sitting duck.

I motioned for them to fly, but they kept shaking their heads no ande waving me up, up, The battalion had lost a Recovery Officer in the past few weeks in a similar situation. Too tired to hang on to the rope ladder, he had dropped to his death as the aircraft tried to get him to safety.

But we were under fire. “Go! Go!” I screamed. heads were shaking “no” aned yelling for me to climb.

I climbed to within a few rungs beneath the skids of the Huey, but was totally drained and feared that without the strength to grip I would indeed fall the 150 feet to the ground. I once again locked my arms and legs around the rungs and screamed, “Get out of here! Go! Go!” as the exchange of fire increased. “We are all going down if they don’t fly,” I though to myself.

Heads kept shaking “no.”

SSG Getchy, my NCOIC, climbed out on the skids, knelt down as his one arm was held by team members in the aircraft, he extended his other arm to me. We overlapped arms and he gripped and began to drag me up, up and then pushed; I was in the aircraft. Away we flew.

I had swurvived that day due to the commitment of a few who willingly risked their lives to save me.

Don’t we have “people down” today in need of saving? I think that we are the ones in the aircraft looking down. We ahve the option to fly away to save ourselves or to choose to do some risky work, expend some of our resources, and reach out to life another life up. Will we do that? We are answering that question each day as an individual, as a community, as a state, and as a nation.
Will we overpower people with political, economic or military controlling forces? Or will we take the great blessing of God and overwhelm people with the sacrificial giving of Jesus Christ? Will we risk our lives for another? Christ did. He stretched out His hand and died to save me.

Join your church or the caring center in your community, or other groups that act in the name of Jesuis to reach out a hand in the spirit that Jesus was speaking of in Matthew 25:35-40 (NIV):

“For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me. Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord when did we see you ungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’ The King will reply, ‘I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me.’ ”

Prayer: Thank You Father for what YOu ahve given me of Yours and the hope I have in You. Please strengthen me to override my needs for security in this earthen vessel in which I travel and give that which You have blessed me with to another who is in need. In Jesus’ Name, amen.

These are some notes I made during my book signings this weekend at the French Quarter. I wasn’t able to make many because I was constantly talking to people. From 10 am till 4:30 both days. I had my phone cut off most of the time as I was unable to make many calls. Someone would always walk up to the table as I was talking. I did manage to talk to the Hastings Bookstore in Baton Rouge and the to Books-a-Million in Baton Rouge. The BAM has my books in and I ought to have a good signing there this next Saturday. 6-7 hours may seem like a long time to sit and talk and hustle sales, but for me the time seems to fly by. It’s the 5-6 hour drive back to Monroe afterwards that can seem long.

Journal Entry:

Friday and Saturday: January 4- 5, 2008.

Friday was bitterly cold when I left Monroe. I always like to have my table outside the store in the French Quarter (it doubles sales), so I dressed for cold weather. Friday was quite chilly, but Saturday warmed up nicely till the afternoon and temperatures dropped again. Note to self on weather: I much prefer warmer days here.

LSU Tigers are scheduled to play the Ohio Buckeyes on Monday (today), so the city was FULL of folks wearing either purple and gold or red and white. I’m told tickets were hundreds of dollars (as were many hotel rooms). Do people really have that kind of money? Anyway, the city was packed. This is one game I may break down and watch.

Sounds: I hated the loud pipe organ that played periodically. Sounded too much like a circus. And it was REALLY loud (and therefore quite annoying). A couple of local high school bands performed at the walk near Café Dumond and they were quite good. As I sat outside the Cabildo Bookstore at the Plaza de Armas (Jackson Square), I loved listening to one blues singer and guitarist I heard now and then, his pain and blues-soaked voice wafting through the air like a lost soul. Once in a while, the noise of the city would die down enough for me to hear the sound of leaves or a plastic sack rustling as the wind swept them down the street with its invisible broom.

SIGHTS AND INTERESTING PEOPLE: One never knows what will be seen here. The balloon man at Jackson Square (creating balloon sculptures) who usually wears a top hat, remembered me. (I’m sure you’ve seen him if you’ve been to the French Quarter) When he worked near me, he would say to people who passed him, “Have you met Mr. Pittman yet? World famous author. He’s my youngest son.” I’ve got to think of a comeback to that.

I also saw the gold and silver mime/statue men, some really good street musicians, and some workers at various stores who remembered me. A National Park Ranger for the Jazz Museum on Decatur looked at my book and told me that at national meeting this past November in Wichita (I think Kansas) they discussed Jim Limber and discussed my book. I also made some contacts for programs to do in the future at school. These contacts are really the most valuable part of my book signings. The amount of money an author makes on royalties is hardly worth the gas expense (especially these days). The really valuable commodity of book signings is the people you meet and the contacts they provide (as well as writing ideas). This is assuming you have a knack for gab. Store managers tell me that authors who don’t interact and talk to people don’t sell many books at signings. Sometimes they don’t sell any! You never know how these things will turn out. I do know that when you’re working hard and trying to make things happen, serendipity will come your way. I did manage to make enough personal sales to at least pay my gas expense for the trip.

Resolution #1: Next trip to the French Quarter, I’ll remember to take my camera and create a memory/photo album upon my return.

Holt Collier: I sold one Jim Limber book to a man who actually knew of Holt Collier. He recommended a book I need to obtain. What a story! You can read more about Holt Collier, famous black hunter and Yankee killer here: http://www.onward-store.com/bear_hunt.html

Here’s two plaques dedicated to Holt Collier. I found this at http://www.onward-store.com/bear_hunt.html

Ach! I’ve been gone too long. Behind a couple of days on my posting. Here’s the scoop:

Wednesday and Thursday were spent mostly doing paperwork for some online college courses I hope to teach this next year. I’m still behind on it. Now that we’re in 2008, I’ve also got tax preparation to start thinking about. That’s about two days of work, just to get everything ready for my CPA .

BOOK SIGNING NEWS:

Friday and Saturday: I left Monroe EARLY at 5:00 am to arrive at the New Orleans French Quarter by 9:45 a.m. I had very successful signings at the Friends of the Cabildo Bookstore (Jackson Square) and A-Tisket-a-Tasket (Decatur) both days, the Cabildo in the mornings and Tisket in the afternoons. As usual, I made many contacts, and I am now proud to say, my photograph (an 8 x 10) has joined those of other authors (some quite famous) who have signed at A-Tisket-a-Tasket in the French Quarter. This trip I was signing both of my books: Jim Limber Davis: A Black Orphan in the Confederate White House and Stories of the Confederate South.

Friday night, I visited my friends in Assumption Parish. At the home of Michele Aucoin, we had quite a soirée. Along with three super-talented guitarists/singers and just genuinely good guys–Krushev, Chuck, and Lynn–I played music till nearly midnight–classics, folk, country, and some ballads I haven’t played or heard in years and some other songs that are hard to classify. Michele prepared a wonderful spread of food (those Cajuns in South Lousiana ALWAYS have good food). Also present were of course, Michele, and her friends, Lisa, Gail, and Carla, four beautiful and witty women.

MASON’S BIRTHDAY: While I was in New Orleans, my grandson turned three Saturday, Jan. 5. He calls me Popi, though spellings in the family have varied from poppy to poppie or poppi. I may be the first popi in our family!

Here’s a description of the parade he attended for his birthday. I talked to him on the phone and he was so excited about it. I obtained this quote from http://www.al.com/mardigras/

“Mardi Gras comes early this year. On Jan. 5 at 1 p.m., the Krewe de la Dauphine kicks off Mardi Gras festivities for Mobile on Dauphin Island with a family-friendly parade themed “Hooray for the Holidays” a fitting title as the parade begins only four days from New Year’s Day. The procession will include a St. Patrick’s Day float, Halloween float, Christmas float and, naturally, a Mardi Gras float.”

Here is a poem I wrote for Mason’s third birthday:

Mason’s Third Birthday: January 5, 2008

Our little man celebrated
His third birthday at school,
Miss Mary, his teacher,
Giving his class cupcakes and ice cream.
(Cupcakes pronounced with t’s)
The next day, to Dauphin Island, Alabama,
The birthplace of Mardi Gras,
Seeing a Mardi Gras parade with
Bands and musicians that
Made him hop with excitement,
His Popi wished he could have seen him,
Catching beads, laughing at the crowds,
Seeing the shrimp boats in the distance,
Holding his mother’s or father’s hand at moments,
Holding as tightly as he’s always
Held his Popi’s heart.

Well, enough for now. Tomorrow, I’ll post some notes I made on my experience in the French Quarter. Be sure and check back.

I enjoy reading those books and articles that tell you what happened on a particular day in history. For example, I receive a Civil War Teacher newsletter produced by Jennifer Rosenberry and from the newsletter I learned what happened yesterday and today. I also included   Jan. 6, as the event of this day was new to me, and it reveals the complexity of the politics of the Civil War. Rosenberry’s source of the information is The Civil War Day By Day, by E.B. Long, a book I must absolutely possess some day.

Jan. 1, 1863: Shortly after noon, Lincoln signed the final Emancipation
Proclamation.
www.thelincolnmuseum.org/new/research/emancipation.html

Jan. 2, 1863: Second day of the Battle of Murfreesboro/ Stone’s River

Jan. 6, 1861: In New York, Mayor Fernando Wood suggested that New York
should become a free city, trading with both North and South.
www.adena.com/adena/USA/cw/cw268.htm
I also found a poem I wrote on this day in my own history. It needs revision, but I think it has possibilities, and has given me a story idea.

Origami

Your kisses are the crease line,
I fold you into myself
Like a man creating origami,
Tool of teaching and therapy,
Developing one’s attention,
Memory and imagination.
Like these tiny pieces of paper,
You are a work of art,
Folds of life, beauty, and truth,
Molded and shaped by an artist’s hands,
Our art started impulsively,
Using scrap pages of our life,
Then we moved on to costly sheets,
Finer, as strong as washi,
Decorated with complex
Patterns of emotions and haiku,
A lover’s geometry, as with
Gentle creases of delicate paper,
Together we create simple elegant
Beauty from our studious repetition,
Each tryst and kiss possessing a new,
Fundamental, expressive beauty.

Well, 2007, with its heartbreaks, nightmares, and yet its paradoxically beautiful and benchmark moments, has come and gone. Looking back through my files, I realized I had written a good amount of poetry this time last year. In fact, in contrast to this year, most of the writing I did last year was poetry. Now, 2008 is upon me, and there has been a shift to writing more fiction and nonfiction and to more music. I kept a reading diary, and I read 37 books last year, 3 less than 2006. My New Year’s Resolutions for 2008 are:

1. To read 52 books

2. To cut my current debt in half

3. T0 have eight books either published or under signed contract.

4. To obtain a literary agent.

I’ll probably think of some other resolutions, but I believe these should get me started. I do believe this will be MY year, the best year of my life, and I wish the same for you.

New Jed Marum Release: Lone Star Stout

My friend and favorite Irish/Confederate balladeer, Jed Marum, has a new CD. The LONESTAR STOUT song list is a collection of Irish favorites, plus a couple of the Americanized versions of some old Irish songs. The album is a No Frills, “Live-in-the-Studio” recording of simple arrangements. In addition to vocals, instruments used are guitar, octave mandolin, mandolin, banjo or banjola. Songs include:

1. Back Home in Derry

2 Risin’ of the Moon

3 Grace

4 Foggy Dew

5 Bard of Armaugh

6 Streets of Laredo

7 Saint James Infirmary

8 Red River Valley

9 Black Velvet Band

10 Wild Colonial Boy

11 Spancil Hill

12 Goodbye Mick

You can check out Jed’s CD and listen to samples of his music at this link. Do yourself a favor and get some of his music. http://cdbaby.com/cd/jedmarum7.

Ah, once again I stand on the eve of a New Year. I’ll likely spend the evening in thought and celebration and reading Olen Steinhauer’s second novel entitled, The Confession. I am greatly enjoying it. The Washington Post Book World says of this novel, “A wonderfully taut tale that is part police procedural, part political thriller, part love story . . . Steinhauer has created a vivid world in a lost time. His Eastern Europe has the ring of truth.” This is quite an endorsement!

Book Signing News:

Today, I finished editing Jeffrey Webber’s fine book on technology and retirement. Last Saturday, my signing at the Sherman Books-A-Million went very well. Once again I was filmed and interviewed by Channel 12 News there. Here is a photo of Randi, a 6th grade student from Honey Grove, Texas. I had presented a program at her middle school earlier in the year and she and her mother remembered me. Her mother was gracious enough to take our photo. Randi said she enjoyed my book and that because of me she decided to learn to play guitar. I believe she received one for Christmas. She is a bright and talented young scholar.

I just returned from Oklahoma, from working and from visiting my parents. I have many notes on my trip that I want to post, but they’ll have to wait for another post. Today, while driving back from Oklahoma, I cut my phone off and listened to the last half of a wonderful novel by Robert Crais, entitled, The Last Detective.  It was a wonderful read and made the driving time pass so fast. The ONLY disappointing part of the novel related to the plot, which seemed very close to another favorite novel of mine, Man on Fire. However, as a writer, I realize the uncanny ability of writers to come up with similar plots and story ideas, so I know the similarity was only by coincidence. Ah, if only we writers understood how the Muses worked.  The best chapter to me was on the first CD (there were seven in the set) and dealt with Pike’s (one of the principal characters) hunt/encounter with the Alaskan Brown Bear. Absolutely horrifying. I’ve never had a fondness for grizzlies or other bears and after reading this resolved that I will never camp in country where the bears are big and mean enough to eat you!  With a height that reaches ten feet, weight of up to 2,500 pounds, claws over six inches long, running speed of up to 35 mph, this is not an animal that I wish to meet in the wild.

I was impressed with this novel and would recommend it. The writing is solid  and well-crafted. You will learn much about forensics, the military, Viet Nam, and many other topics. My kind of book. Anyway, you can learn more about Robert Crais and his fine writing here: http://www.robertcrais.com/

Book News:

In just a few minutes, I’m leaving my motel in Grapevine to drive to my signing at the Books-A-Million in Sherman, Texas. Other than its name, Sherman is a really cool city. It’s growing too. I’ll spend the night with my parents in their cellphone-dead and Internet void zone and be home in Monroe sometime Sunday. This nomad writing life is giving me tons of ideas for stories. The driving time is giving me time to think, to plan, to listen to music or books on CD. For today’s post, since I’m near the Red River, I thought I’d post a short story I wrote. It’s still a work in progress.

CLEAN NETS

Ever since Indian Territory days, my family has fished this Red River. Mama says there ain’t no call for us to be ashamed of it neither. She says the first apostles were fishermen, and that if fishermen are good enough for Jesus, then the rest of the world will just have to accept us too.

When they finished the Lake Texoma dam in 1944, the river changed, and our family had to change with it. Now, most of our fishing time is spent on the lake. We also started guiding some, helping those tourists with more money than sense to catch sandbass or stripers, or get them to some ducks and geese in hunting season. They’re surprised we ain’t got no fish sonar or duck radar or fancy gear like that. We just know where the fish are and where the ducks like to go. Ain’t much to it really if’n a man pays attention.

But even though I got to go out to the lake from time to time, I still love that damned old Red River. She’s toned down some since the dam was finished, but she’s still got a mind of her own. She don’t flood much no more, like she did when she devoured the town of Karma, north of Bonham where my grandma had a store. Grandma told me how she and my grandpa just watched the river warsh the whole town away. Weren’t nothin’ they could do bout it. And there ain’t nothin’ lives there now. She must not have liked that town much.

The river used to have a bunch of logjams, but they’re pretty much all gone now. Daddy said that in his day the logs were so thick you could walk across the river and never get your feet wet. The river’s still got quicksand, even though it ain’t as bad as it was. I don’t know where it went to, but only a few spots are bad to have it now. People who don’t know about quicksand or can’t spot it are in bad shape if they get caught in it alone. It must be horrible for someone to get drownded in mud, being sucked down to the river’s bottom. I only got in quicksand once. Daddy hauled me out and told me how the last person he pulled out of quicksand was a woman, and he had to reach down and pull her out by the hair. She was real dead, he said. And then he whipped my little ass with a willow switch real good so I’d remember not to do it again. I learnt right then what quicksand looked like and I ain’t stepped into it since.
When the water’s high enough, I load up the kids and take the johnboat or airboat down it, explaining to them all they need to know bout the river nowadays. When the water’s too low for a boat, I walk its banks on Sundays. That’s the only day our family’s ever took off from work. I find stuff–old bottles, lots of trash that I guess came down from the dam, cause I sure don’t see no people around to leave it there. Sometimes I think the river’s got a mind of her own and just puts things where she wants when she’s tired of playing with it.

Mama says the river used to be haunted. Gave some people some kind of fever that made them start killing folks. Ever time some good ole boy goes on a killin rampage, Mama says that the fever’s come back to the Red River Valley. “If’n you ever see someone who don’t belong down there, you be real careful,” she says. “Look at their eyes. The ones with the fever got the same look as a wild dog that ain’t afraid of humans no more.”

“How do people get well from this fever, Mama?” I asked.
“Ain’t but one cure,” she said. “They got to be put down, just like they’s a rabid dog.”
The life of a fisherman ain’t as simple as it used to be. Now I gotta fool with getting all kinds of permits. Daddy still cain’t read, so I have to read each year’s new rules to him. The state says we gotta count and measure fish, and throw back the game fish if they get tangled up in my nets or traps or get on my trotlines. Gotta throw them back even if they’re gonna die. Seems like a waste of good fish. Sometimes I keep them anyway and take them over to Hendrix and give them away to the colored people there. I guess that’s okay, long as I don’t sell them. Sometimes I wonder what these bureaucrats are thinking. If they’d just talk to a fisherman, they’d get lots of ideas. But I reckon they don’t care for talking to someone who knows how to do something they are passing laws for.

We make most of our money off the catfish we sell, but it’s getting harder to sell fish. People are getting attached to that pond-raised catfish, or lately, that catfish that comes frozen all the way from China. But they don’t taste the same as river fish. Anyone raised on river fish can tell you that.

But we got all kinds of good fish here, not just catfish. There’s brim, largemouth bass, crappie, gar, drum, buffalo, carp, black bass, sand bass, stripers, hybrids (I reckon that’s caused when a sand bass gets to know a striper real well), and spoonbill catfish that we snag down by the dam when the rabbit rangers ain’t around. We eat’em all too.

My family’s found several dead bodies on the river or in the lake through the years. Drownins mostly. Some of them could swim, but they underestimated the strength of the current and the temperamental nature of the river. Sometimes I think she just don’t care for people thrashing around in her and gets riled up and pulls them down. Some of the others I just don’t know how they got there cause they still got their shoes and fancy city clothes on. You can tell they didn’t fall off no boat.

My house ain’t far from the Carpenter’s Bluff Bridge. We see folks down there in summer swimming and diving off the bridge. They go there at night too and build fires and drink and all. I couldn’t sleep one night and I floated down river, sittin’ in the front of the boat just sculling along, and I saw a bunch of folks underneath the bridge. They was sitting in the light of a campfire and I heard them carrying on. Sounded like they were having a big time. When she’s a mind to, the river knows how to make folks real happy and feel like they belong there. Only difference between them and me about that is I belong there all the time.

My wife Sophie and I had us a bunch of kids, and all of them know how to fish. The littlest ones we teach to get bait. They seine crawfish out of ponds and ditches, dig worms, seine minners out of the creek and sell them too so they can have some spending money. But I only got one out of the bunch that’s taken to fishing enough that I know he’ll be a fisherman all his life. When he ain’t in school, he’s with me. Elvin’s a tough one–you can tell by his callused little hands. Doesn’t cry when he gets wet or cold. He don’t mind getting his face blistered by the wind or sun. He works right beside me until the fish are all cleaned and we get everything ready for the next day.

One day we was warshin and mending our nets and he says, “You must have the cleanest nets in the river, Daddy. Why you warsh them so much?”

“Dirty nets don’t catch no fish, boy.” Then I tell him what my daddy always told me. “When Jesus called them first apostles, They was warshing nets when he found them. So right away he called them to follow him, cause he knew they were good fishermen. They kept fishing too, only from then on they fished for men. A man’s got to keep his nets clean in life, boy, if’n he wants anything in them but trash.”

We was on the river one afternoon and my boy was walking the sandbars and stepped into some quicksand. I hauled him out of it and whipped his little butt with a willow switch. A good thrashing always helps the memory. And I explained to him how the river, she don’t cotton to a man bein careless. He got to pay attention all the time. I told him how the river’s different now, and how she’ll be different when he’s growed up too. Maybe then she won’t have no quicksand at all, but she does now, and he cain’t go messin’ around in it.

I don’t know why my family likes fishing so. I guess we were just meant to do it. But I know when I feel that tug on my line, and I feel that life there, it feels real good. And when I can sell a pickup load of iced down catfish to the grocers, and go back home with money, it makes me feel good to buy my family things they need. Good fishing goes in spells, so I don’t always catch as much as I want. Sometimes the river pushes the fish away from us just to see if we love her enough to stick with her. She ain’t run us off yet. Hell, we ain’t goin’ nowhere.

Book Signing News: 

I spent Thursday with my parents in Kemp, Oklahoma, a small town in Indian Territory  with a rich history that I touched on in my novel, Red River Fever. I spent the day reading, writing an article a publisher requested, and editing a fascinating novel by Shane Lester. Then I began editing a wonderful book by Jeffrey Webber on the topic of how technology can enrich the lives of the retired. This book is needed and seems to be practical and an easy guide to follow.

This morning I set up a signing at the Hastings bookstore in Sherman, Texas for Saturday, Feb. 9.  I met with the manager of the Books-A-Million in Sherman also and made preparations for my signing at his store, tomorrow (Saturday, Dec. 29). I’m also scheduled to play my guitar for the kids that come to the store on Saturday morning. It should be a blast. I do know that I’ve sold out of my books every time I’ve done a signing there; consequently, it’s a store that will be on my permanent cycle of stores.  Then I drove to Grapevine and met with the Books-A-Million manager in Grapevine. His store is in the Grapevine Mills Mall. My signing there will be Sat. Feb. 2. I also met with the public librarians in Grapevine, Texas and scheduled two children’s events and one adult reading/signing this next year.  They have a fantastic facility.  I can tell that Grapevine is a VERY prosperous area, at least compared to my part of Louisiana. (Why do I keep saying statements like that?) In short,  I’ve had a very busy, but very productive day.