Little Birds

Hush, little baby, don't say a word,
Mama's gonna buy you a mockingbird.

If that mockingbird won't sing,
Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring

The mockingbird mama built two nests in Mrs. Phred's bicycle basket so I destroyed them and then finally removed the basket. While we were gone she built a third nest in the sprocket and laid three blue specked eggs.

So now we're stuck here until the eggs hatch and the little birds fly away. Mockingbirds tend to build nests 3-10 feet off the ground. Once the eggs hatch they will attack you if you get too close. I figure about the middle of August....but a lot can go wrong....

Squirrels or cats could eat the eggs or the baby birds or even the adults....If you build a stupid nest, maybe it's best that you don't contribute to the gene pool?

Born to be wild....

There's a man who leads a life of danger....

Boat name is Ratty Bastard...Capacity 18 adults...

Wearing our new "Blow S**t Up!" shirts...

4th of July

Jason at rest.

Try anything once?

Kilroy was here

Mountain Home, Arkansas

During WWII, this particular graffiti began to appear wherever the American G.I. advanced in Africa, Europe and the Pacific. Although it was not known originally where the phrase came from, one explanation was provided by James J. Kilroy, a New England shipyard welding inspector. According to Kilroy, The shipyard riveters at that time were paid by the rivet. At the end of the day they marked the last rivet installed with chalk. Less ethical workers might erase the chalk mark of the previous worker to be paid more. To counter this, Kilroy would write "Kilroy was here" on each chalk mark. These markings were subsequently discovered in many ships and landing craft when sealed compartments were accessed for maintenance. The inaccessible locations and ubiquitous frequency  of the markings lent an almost supernatural air to them, and soon the icon (borrowed from a 1938 British cartoon) and phrase was everywhere that the army went.

Our friends have invited us to stay in an extra house in they own in the woods in Mountain Home, Arkansas. It feels odd and a little confusing to be rambling around in a 3 bedroom, 2 bath home after nine years of living in a 300 square foot motor home.

 This weekend we went down to Conway to help their son-in-law Jason and daughter Caroline a little in the new home they bought. It has six acres and about 4,000 square feet of space with a pool and a tennis court. It was a sadly neglected short sale and another casualty of the great recession.  We worked on the kitchen rebuild and ate some good burgers, watermelon and key lime pie.

They are gutting the old kitchen, putting in a tile floor, new ceiling and lighting as well as installing new cabinets and appliances.

Like everything else, the tennis court is going to need a little work to bring it back.

The neighbors had called the pool "the black lagoon"...They pumped it out, scraped up a lot of black stuff with snow shovels and pressure-washed it...

I got to take about a six mile walk early Sunday morning....it went past the University of Arkansas School of Business...their mascot is the razor-back hog, I think...

I had my own graffiti during my travels in support of Vietnam in the Pacific Rim. It was on a rubber stamp and green ink pad that I carried in my flight suit....the stamp was meant to be ironic...it said

KILL A COMMIE

 FOR CHRIST.

 Perfect for restroom stalls in officer's latrines...Perhaps there is a god...if so, One still wonders how it would feel about the general human practice of making war in its name?

Memphis: William's Bar-B-Q

I'm running weeks behind on the blog. Since I quit smoking on December 4th (for the flight to Bangkok), a strange lassitude has descended upon me. I no longer care much about the blog and don't even ask about my Facebook page because, unfortunately,  I don't have one.

So let's start at the beginning and try to get at least one day closer to current. The current situation is that we have a bent front axle on the RV and can't get it fixed for seven days. We're stuck in Nashville. More about Nashville on a future blog. Right now let's discuss the Memphis Blues.

We stayed at a really nice place called the Tom Sawyer Mississippi River RV park. It's in West Memphis on the west side of the river in Arkansas. It an easy ten minute drive to Beale Street in Memphis to hear the Memphis Blues again.

This strange little bird sat on its nest in the gravel parking lot for the four days we were there. It sat there during a tremendous night time downpour and thunder storm. Mrs. Phred wanted to take the little bird an umbrella but I restrained her. Nature's reproductive schemes are sometimes exceedingly strange.

The only downside of the park (also an upside) is the 24/7 river traffic. I woke up every morning at 4AM to the pounding roar of big diesel tugboat engines. If you get to West Memphis, go to William's BarBQue on 14th street.

The man is a true American culinary genius...who else other than William could have considered combining slow cooked pork with coleslaw in a single fat, sloppy, delicious sandwich?

 So anyway...this is getting to be a very long blog and we haven't even gotten to the Lorraine Hotel and East Memphis...more later?

Lake Norfork

Mountain Home, Arkansas

We spend 10 nights on the shore of Lake Norfork. It's another Army Corps of Engineers campground, so it's nicely designed as always.

We play tennis and visit a little with old friends who live here.

We look at some houses again. The seem extraordinarily inexpensive to us, but we can't even begin to think about pulling the trigger on a home purchase here. Centrality for future RV travel would be a plus, but it's a long way to the nearest halfway serious airport.

We'll head for Memphis next to hear some blues....

Goodbye Mountain Home....

Meeting Online Friends

Petite Jean State Park, Arkansas

Mrs. Phred has been spending a lot of time online with a social networking site called "The Woman's RV Forum". We have pushed the RV down this way for a GTG (Get together) with her online friends..Wiki has the following information about the legend of Petite Jean:

According to legend Petit Jean was actually a young French woman. When she discovered that her fiancee had signed on with De Soto to explore the area, she cut her hair, disguised herself as a boy and managed to find a position as a cabin boy. She survived the voyage and the expedition began their exploration. Once they had reached the area of the mountain, the young woman became ill, on her deathbed she revealed herself to her fiancee, and was buried on the mountain, not under her own name, but under the name she had been known by on the ship "Little John". The grave of "Petit Jean" atop Petit Jean mountain.

 

There are many versions of the legend of Mt. Petit Jean, but the legend told on the mountain itself and featured on the plaque at Petit Jean's grave is much different from Dr. Woodard's. Dr. Lee W. Woodard has written a book entitled, "Petit Jean's Mountain: The Origin of the Legend." He provides many historical evidences that suggest that the old glamorized oral legends about "Petit Jean" (an assumed or nickname) are traceable to known historical records about the drowning of a young French Noble variously called De Marne or De Marle.

This youth drowned while bathing on Saint Jean Baptiste Day, June 24, 1687, while fleeing with six other survivors of horrendous assassinations and murders involved with Robert Cavelier De La Salle's tragic French Colonization attempt during 1684-1687. This young French noble's death and burial were described by two French companions, Father Anastase Douay (who was an officiate at the burial) and a French soldier named Henri Joutel.

We're only about 70 miles from Little Rock. One of our objectives is visiting every Presidential Library. I wonder what Bill Clinton's library will have to say about Monica Lewinski? I wonder if the dress will be on display? Probably not....

Maybe there will be some other Little Rock museums...We'll find out Wednesday...The ladies on the RV forum refer to their male companions ( if they have one) as DH (Dear Husbands). after learning what this means,  I insist on being referred on her forum to as tGM (the Great Man)...Mrs. Phred humors me in this regard...

Arkansas State Hillbilly Chili Cook-Off

Bull Shoals State Park, Arkansas

Bull Shoals lake was created to tame the White River. The lake is even bigger than Lake Norfork. We drive up on 9/11 to sample the chili in the annual Arkansas Chili Cook-Off.



The admission is $3 a head. You get a ticket for the admission price that you can use to vote for the "peoples choice" best chili. We also buy 20 tickets for 50 cents each that can be used for chili samples, funnel cakes. water, hot dogs or whatever.

The band playing is a lot better than I expected. They play some things that sound a lot like Mississippi Delta blues, some Eric Clapton and other things that are not very hillbilly..

One ticket gets you a tasting cup of the competitors chili...six tickets buy a big bowl of standard chili...four for a hot dog. There is no entry fee to compete in the cook-off, but you have to agree to produce at least four gallons of chili for the little tasting cups...

Someone mistakes me for a local celebrity named Gaston who is a big sponsor for the event. Eventually I straighten this out and promise to look for someone who looks like me and convey regards.

Bull Shoals is really small town in Arkansas, maybe 2,000 on the lake. The Bull Shoals police have also sponsored a 5K race today to honor all the New York firefighters and New York police killed nine years ago...It's a small town in mid-America...They're not burning Korans here...

First prize for the best chili is $500. You also get bragging rights for a year until the next contest. The People also pick a winner and that prize is $100.

Lake Norfork

Mountain Home, Arkansas

We're spending a couple of weeks here. Mountain home is not easy to get to, which is one reason I like it. It's in the Ozarks and there are no interstate highways within 200 miles. The signs going into town say that the population is 11,012 but those are the 2000 census numbers.

They have five tennis courts and several movie theaters. They are moving the town library to a new site. There is a meat market that sells excellent steaks. Lake Norfork winds for miles way up into Missouri. We're hoping to catch the Arkansas Chili Cookoff up at Bull Shoals before we leave.


The Wal-Mart is world class. Wal-Mart started here in Arkansas...We have friends here, Paul and Diane. Almost all my friends and all my pets are dead. Paul and Diane have made the cut...it's more about who they are than that they are not dead yet...We used to camp in their compound in the woods, but the new motor home won't negotiate the driveway so we stay on the lake in an Army Corps of Engineers campground. It's only $9 a night with our senior discount.

Paul has given us the key to his pontoon boat, the "Ratty Bastard". We take it out on the lake and swim and float and sleep and read...Someone is siphoning his gas at night...we go out a mile and back and use 8.5 gallons....he's going to put a lock on the tank tank...


This is a place we could stay for a month and watch the leaves change..I play a lot of tennis with Mrs. Phred and have three 6-4 losses....almost my best ever...They are spending stimulus dollars to upgrade the campground...It's somewhat like Roosevelt's CCC program although the workers zoom in and out with big shiny new trucks...

On the One Hand...

Lake Norfork, Arkansas

We're parked on the shore of Lake Norfork. Our campground is provided by the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers. When they build a dam and create a huge recreational lake, they usually throw in a few nicely engineered campgrounds.


You probably read about the incident in California where an old man punched a health care supporter in the nose and had his little finger bitten off in return. It wasn't me. I'm strictly a nose-biter. Sure...it's true I could have put on a pair of adult diapers and driven 30 hours to the California rally. But I didn't...really.


The old guy didn't like the idea of government being involved in health care. One of the biggest worries of this type is that the wrong kind of people might get treated for illnesses or injuries. Then there is also the concern about "death panels" denying treatment to registered Republicans. The irony is that the the old guy got his finger treated with his Medicare card. The doctors couldn't reattach the pinky because of concerns about bacteria. Medicare will cover a tetanus shot.


The lake is lovely. Paul and Diane loaned us their pontoon boat. We go out every day after tennis and read, picnic and swim in a sheltered cove. We used to be boat owners. Due to a long series of expensive disasters, Mrs. Phred and I really appreciate the concept of "other peoples boats" and feel very lucky to have such generous friends.


The boat is called the "ratty bastard". We are a little disappointed that Paul has removed the tiki torches. It's a long boat, with a turning radius similar to an aircraft carrier. As we try to dock it, Mrs. Phred gives me a stream of shouted instructions. I try to turn the helm over to her, but to no avail.

The prime rib at Keller's cove was excellent, as usual. The tattooed waitress tells us that she had her baby since our last visit. They no longer have karaoke, which is an annoyance since I had seriously rehearsed "Billy the Mountain" by Frank Zappa in preparation for the visit.