A lesson in Geriatrics 101

******

Riding Toward a Lynching
on a Southbound Train

Barring last minute revelations, illness, or death I will NOT be moving from New Bern, North Carolina to Huntsville, Alabama -- to be closer to my daughter Kara.

Sorry, Hank, I will not be joining you in your native 'Bama.

It is important to stay independent while still alive -- to have plenty of fun and games in North Carolina.





So I will just have to enjoy from a distance that musical genius Hank Williams, poet of the heart, master of the Honky Tonk.

Waylon Jennings; Hank Williams, Jr.:
"The Conversation"

Hank William as inspiration to Waylon Jennings.

(With whom I have a certain kinship since I once dated his former girl friend, a former bartender then on public assistance, a part native American, former Hippy whose husband was eaten in Somoa by a shark) .

With this well seasoned lady, I traveled to Petersburg, Virginia -- to complete the research for: "Lessons From the Crater: the Road to Cold Mountain."

As I say, dating can be fun.

Miranda James at the entrance to the Petersburg, Virgina
tunnel used to plant the horrendous explosion
at "The Crater," July 1864


The author: amidst ghosts of the past

"The Crater" blows

Are You Sure Hank Done It This A Way?

Hank, thin as a rail, suffering from the lonely pain of lifelong spinal bifida, until his death at 29.

Under appreciated in the North - a cultural giant of my times.

Saint? Northern Liberal?

No. Just a creative soul up from grim poverty in the shadow of the Great Depression and World War II.






So now in North Carolina it's time to party.

Bring on the Honky Tonk.

It's the only way to die.

And yes:

"Hank would have done it this a way."

Hank Williams: a modern touch

"I'm Alabama Bound"--
but still living in North Carolina

A time for keeping alive Easter day anger

*****

The Wreck on the Highway

A week ago a most comely 24 year old uninsured waitress/student careened through a redlight and took out my Hyundai Tucscon.

She managed to knock out $5100 worth of damages on the most expensive, least vital front left area of fender, light, bumper, and engine hood.

She was lovely to talk with -- a shapely sight to appreciatively behold -- and kind enough to leave me uninjured.

Fortunately I have insurance for uninsured motorists.

No sweat -- when you consider the below, this "picture of life's other side."

*****

Easter Day in the Waffle House -- where I do much of my reporting -- there sits next to me a greying 51 year old man with his ten year old grandson.

"If I catch that damn woman on my block speeding again, I'll run her right off the road into a ditch," he says, his voice rising with anger.

"I've called the police chief...If he doesn't take care of her, I'll watch for her speeding and run her off the road."

My Waffle House neighbor repairs transmissions for a living.

His 30 year old daugher lives with him, with her ten year old son.

"Are you married?" I ask him.

"My wife has been death three years," he replies.

"It took her three months to die as a quadraplegic," he continues, with growing anger.

*****

"This is all I have -- my daughter and my grandson."

"A speeding car rammed my wife's car...Our grandson was riding in the car with her. She steered to dodge so she was hit instead of our grandson. She gave her life to save him."

"I don't want nothing to happen to that boy," he adds.

"If I catch that damn woman on my block speeding again, I'll run her right off the road into a ditch," he says once more -- his voice careening with anger.

"Sure I speed up to 75, sometimes more -- but I always look both ways. I know what I'm doing."

No, the speeder on his block is not the one who killed his wife.

Does it matter?

That's "a picture of life's other side."

The Crash on the Highway