That's Life

The days around Thanksgiving may just be my favorite time of each year. It is a time of reflection. Thanksgiving reminds me to look within my heart, which allows me to 'see' more clearly the impact of my surroundings and the marks left by others.

Thank you, I'm OK I guess
I just need a little rest
I'll catch up on my sleep tonight
I ain't complainin', that's life

On his latest album, "Pimps and Preachers," Paul Thorn includes a song entitled "That's Life" with lyrics taken from words spoken to him in conversations with his mother. I imagine that the first verse is a familiar paraphrase of a reply made in those instances when you have said something to your mother like "I hope you are feeling all right." I know such a retort from my mother would be fairly typical in an exchange of words described. Much like any of your mothers, my mother, Lawana Meacham Miles, was seemingly always at work, neglecting her rest, yet never complaining about the trials of life (my wife, Kathryn, is much the same way). Mother celebrated her 83rd birthday on Thanksgiving Day. No longer is she that vibrant, tireless bundle of energy I remember so well from years past. While she is receiving excellent, loving care from my angelic sister, Lana, and caregivers with home hospice in Las Vegas, her health is in serious decline.

Thoughts of my mother, both near and far from the present, calmly rest in my heart. My prayer is that she live in comfort, be without pain, and is able to catch "a little rest." She worked hard and long. Upon her arrival in Newport in 1948, she went to work at Harris Hospital as a receptionist. Later she assisted customers in several of Newport's retail shops...Kent's Dress Shop, Eva Graham Shoppe, B & B, High Strung, the Gizmo. On the side, she was a wedding planner doing business under the most appropriate name, Lawana's Touch. Indeed, she touched a lot of lives in Newport throughout the years she called it home. In addition to her 'day jobs,' she volunteered much time to her work at the First United Methodist Church planning and overseeing gatherings of all sorts. She also loaned her time to the Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts, the PTA, Beta Sigma Phi, and the Newport Service League, among other community endeavors. Her varied interests and penchant to 'get involved' influenced and inspired me to be an active participant in civic affairs. I am thankful for the 'example' she so ably set forth for my sister and me.

I've got blueberries in the yard
I bought a hundred Mason jars
I'm gonna pick them
When they're ripe
Another season, that's life

I spent part of every summer at my grandmother's farm at Center Hill in White County west of Searcy. My grandmother, Mattie Starr Miles, managed a small dairy operation with assistance from her grandsons and a couple of hired hands for more than thirty years after my grandfather's death. My grandfather passed from this life three years prior to my birth. Granny Miles was a hard working, feisty woman and quite the taskmaster. She got to work early and stayed late and she expected the same effort from those around her. Being her youngest grandson, I think she may have cut me some slack. However, the workday on a dairy farm starts before sunrise and ends when you give out. In addition to milking duties, there was sloppin' the hogs, gatherin' eggs from the chicken coop, shuckin' corn out in the crib, and hullin' peas. One of my favored tasks in late summer was picking blackberries down the field below the cow pond (there may have been some blueberries growing in this part of Arkansas, but I don't recall seeing any). Picking blackberries is a work of art with the finished piece being the patterns of dark purple stains on face and hands with touches of red the result of blood stains rendered from the cuts and scratches on one's fingers and hands. No matter how careful my attempts to avoid the prickly briers on the blackberry bushes, my hands and forearms always looked as if I just came out on the losing end of a knife fight. But the milk bucket full of sweet blackberries yielded fine reward in the form of a delicious blackberry cobbler made up by Granny topped with some home made ice cream. I am thankful for such memories. Granny Miles departed this life in 1982 at the age of 93. I deeply appreciate her work ethic and the time spent with her.

There's a touch of fall in the wind
Can't wait til you come back again
You're the brightest star in my sky
I wish you could stay, that's life

I know it's time for you to go
Here's a sandwich for the road
It's always hard to say goodbye
Ain't that the truth, that's life

Fond memories of my mother and grandmother conjure up those times when we would depart one another's company. As a young boy, such a time was leaving my grandmother's Center Hill farm to return home after a summer's stay. As a college student, such a time was returning to school after a weekend visit with my parents. In those days I failed to have much appreciation for their compassionate hearts bidding farewell to me in those instances. Perhaps it was my need to establish my independence and the desire to be with friends that clouded my consideration for their heartfelt yearning for a loved one to stay just a little bit longer. Today, all these years later, I can 'see' more clearly the glistening of my mother's and grandmother's moist eyes each time we said, "Goodbye." And I can still 'hear' them asking if I would like "a sandwich for the road." Now I understand. Now it is my eyes that moisten when my children and grandchildren get ready to leave after a brief visit. It is my heart that aches when a loved one leaves. That's life.

A tinge of fall lingers in the air here in the Ozarks. The autumn leaves are letting go from the limbs of their hardwood hosts to drift in the restless breeze. As I watch this, my mind seems to let go of the present and drifts back to family gatherings and times spent in the company of good friends. Thanksgiving Day football games between Newport and Batesville. Duck hunts on the Cache River. Drive-in movies at the Skylark. Dances at the Legion Hut. A game or two of nine-ball at Fortune's Pool Hall. Sunday evenings at Methodist Youth Fellowship (MYF). Cruisin' Malcolm Avenue. The faces in the crowds at those memorable moments bring a smile. Yes, some of those faces have changed a bit with age; some are no longer visible to me in this life. These faces are the "brightest stars in my sky." I am thankful for my family and the friendships I have known.

In preparing for the move into our new home, Kathryn and I have been boxing up personal belongings and dragging things from the attic that haven't been seen for a while. Over the course of the years I have discovered that moving from one house to another is like a treasure hunt. Just the other day I opened a box containing pictures and old Christmas cards from the late '50s. It was a delight to jump back in time through the portal offered by these aging photos. One that stood out was a picture of three little boys playing with an array of toy soldiers (a Christmas gift left by Santa) in the floor of an apartment at 412 Hazel in Newport, circa 1957. Those boys pictured are Mike Fortune, Donnie Washam and I. Another from the same time frame was of Donnie Washam and me standing alongside a snowman out in front of the Silver Moon. Wonderful friendships, wonderful memories, for which I am truly thankful.

In another box I ran upon the script to our Junior Class play at Newport High School, "Rally 'Round the Flag Boys." I had forgotten just how much fun it was to participate in this play until recently when I chose to play a part in a local dinner theatre production for the Ozarks Regional Arts Council entitled "Sundown for Dollar." I played the role of Will Cheatum, a conniving gambler. I reckon that was a fairly appropriate role for me and I enjoyed the laughter. All of the actors were rank amateurs keeping the rehearsals and the performance comically charged. I had flashbacks of being on stage in high school with John Sink, Eddie Crawford, Kenny "Pablo" Taylor and Drew Stewart. I am thankful for the performing arts. I am thankful for the laughter.

Over the past few weeks, Kathryn and I have been gradually moving into our new home. The house is not completely finished, but we wanted to get in before the holiday season to discover the kinks. Kathryn's sister, Bonnie, came up from Dallas to visit us Thanksgiving week. Daughter Lynli and our two grandsons, Oliver and Julian, joined us for a few days.

We look forward to more visits to our new home by family and friends. Our door stands open to you all. The setting is picturesque as the house sits high upon a bluff overlooking the White River just north of the confluence of the White with the North Fork River. God paints a different piece of artwork every day for our enjoyment and sketches in various characters to personalize each scene. Yesterday morning I watched a young buck prance through the back yard. Kathryn recently watched two bald eagles soar near the rear deck and alight in one of the tall pines. We have seen a young black bear and a handsome red fox in the neighborhood. Blessings abound! Beauty surrounds! Color me thankful!

Observing the eagles, the deer, the bear, the fox leisurely roaming the countryside captures the essence of freedom. I am thankful for the men and women on active duty with our armed services for their commitment and dedication to protecting the freedoms we all enjoy. I am thankful for the veterans who fought to defend our freedoms in conflicts past.

The week before Thanksgiving Kathryn received a phone call from a reporter with the Dallas Morning News seeking input for a story he was preparing on the 47th anniversary of President Kennedy's assassination. I have mentioned previously in the Miles' Files that Kathryn and her daddy, Temple F. "Tom" Bowley, were among the first to arrive upon the scene of the fallen Dallas police officer, J. D. Tippit, who also had been shot and killed by Kennedy's assassin, Lee Harvey Oswald. Mr. Bowley quickly used Officer Tippit's radio in his police car to alert Dallas police headquarters of the situation. After all these years, the Dallas Police Department presented Kathryn's daddy with a Citizen's Certificate of Merit in recognition of his actions leading to the swift apprehension of Oswald at a nearby movie theatre before he could leave the area of the Tippit murder. Farris Rookstool, a former FBI analyst and Kennedy assassination expert, calls the Tippit murder the "Rosetta Stone" in tying Oswald to the Kennedy assassination and Mr. Bowley's actions "huge" in getting the Dallas Police Department's forces into the Oak Cliff area promptly allowing them to quickly capture Oswald. My father-in-law has been reluctant to discuss his role in the capture of Oswald over the years. In one aspect he is a particularly modest man thinking that anyone could have and would have taken similar action on that fateful day. In another aspect, he held concern that his previous association with Jack Ruby, the man who two days later would kill Lee Harvey Oswald as he was being escorted by law enforcement officers to a court hearing, could have led some to cast a suspicious eye on him. As a young man, Mr. Bowley had worked as a doorman in one of Jack Ruby's nightclubs. On behalf of his family, I am grateful for this well deserved recognition bestowed upon Mr. Tom Bowley.

My most vivid memory of the days surrounding the Kennedy assassination is watching the funeral procession on television with my mother on her birthday, November 25, 1963. The iconic picture of John Kennedy, Jr. saluting his father's casket carried upon a caisson followed by a riderless horse remains clear in my mind. That November day was also the birthday of John Kennedy, Jr. He was three years old. As I watched the moments of that historical week unfold through the television screen, my wife and father-in-law were cast as two people playing a part in the story and living history. I think that's cool. I think that's life.

Family and friends are the key ingredients to a life fulfilled. My life is full. Those family members and friends who have passed from this life's stage continue to play a leading role in my memory show. I 'see' their smiles. I 'hear' their laughter. I miss the presence of those dear to me who are beyond a hug at this time of year when families and friends typically gather together, but I hold them close in my heart always. I am thankful for the gift of love, for the gift of friendship.

Wipe that tear out of your eye
Behind the clouds the sun still shines
You're in my prayers every night
Enjoy the journey, that's life

May magical moments greet you with the dawning of each day. May good health and happiness be loyal companions on life's pathway. I'm still on the journey. I'm still Miles from Nowhere...and about 100 miles upstream from Newport.

Happy Holidays!
joe

To Be Friends

The Newport High School Class of 1970 got together for a 40th class reunion on September 25, 2010 at the Newport Country Club, just steps away from the old gymnasium on campus where our graduation ceremony was held. Much time has passed on the calendar since that day in May, 1970, when we last embraced as classmates. Yet it seems as if a simple few weeks have gone by since we sat side by side in cap and gown anticipating the future that is now. We have changed and we haven’t changed. We have experienced life’s challenges, opportunities, successes, failures, rebounds. We are now parents and grandparents. There was much to talk about among those present for the reunion.

For those who have not seen one another for many years, this short time together was precious. Conversations about children and grandchildren were center stage, closely followed by discussions about personal aches and pains. Being a grandparent myself, I was able to participate in a few bragging contests during the course of the evening.

On the topic of grandchildren, I find that our two older ones, Oliver (4 years old) and Claire (2 years old), yearn to be outdoors just as I recall wanting to play outside all the time as a youngster. Their desires have delivered opportunity for me to return to playgrounds and parks once again, activities that have lain dormant since the days our children were between the toddler stage and grade school age. When not outside, the grandkids have their toys to occupy their time indoors. And then there are the cartoons of the day for them to watch on television. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

One of Oliver’s and Claire’s favorite cartoons is "Curious George" based on the children’s books from the 1940s and ‘50s. In addition to the cartoon series, an animated feature film "Curious George" was released in 2006. The soundtrack from that movie entitled "Sing-A-Longs and Lullabies for the Film Curious George" includes the song "We Are Going to be Friends" performed by Jack Johnson. Johnson’s version of the song is a cover of the original released in 2002 by the White Stripes.

Fall is here, hear the yell
Back to school, ring the bell
Brand new shoes, walking blues
Climb the fence, books and pens
I can tell that we are going to be friends

There were about 40 classmates at the reunion accompanied by spouses and guests bringing the total in attendance to 70 or so. The planning committee put together a memorable evening. Class Vice President Clay Wright welcomed us and the Planning Committee Chairperson Billie Jean Nelson presented some light hearted awards. Jan Grimes was selected as "least changed" and the selection committee was spot on in that choice. Apparently Jan has been caught in some kind of time warp in that she is the same cute and modest girl I have known since grade school. If it really has been forty years since my littermates and I finished high school, it has been fifty-two years since we entered the first grade, a time when many of us first became friends. To be friends for more than fifty years is a heart-warming experience.

Walk with me Suzy Lee
Through the park and by the tree
We can rest upon the ground
And look at all the bugs we’ve found
Safely walk to school without a sound
We safely walk to school without a sound

The "Suzy Lee" in my life was Mary Wynne Parker. Mary Wynne and I are twelve days apart in age and we lived one block apart on Hazel Street (she at 510 Hazel and I at 412 Hazel) for the first seven years of our lives. Our homes were on either side of Miss Martha’s Kindergarten where we first began our formal education. Our families attended the First Methodist Church together and Mary Wynne and I often teased one another about holding hands in the Sunday School nursery before we were fully aware of our surroundings. Mary Wynne Parker and Mike Stephens, who lived on Laurel Street across the alley from the apartments where I lived, are the earliest friendships within my memory. For the three of us, the circumstances of being the same age, living in the same neighborhood, and attending the same church brought us together. The life-long friendship we have shared was born out of spending time together in our back yards, on the playgrounds of the Walnut Street School and Remmel Park, and in Sunday School at First Methodist Church. Mary Wynne, Mike and I often met at the corner of Hazel and Fifth Streets to walk the remaining half block to Walnut Street School during our first grade year. Our mothers could watch us all the way to the doors of the school. We were joined at times by Margaret Ann Gillihan and Freeman Travis who became close friends early on from romping together in the neighborhood.

Freeman attended Sunday School at First Methodist with Mary Wynne, Mike and me along with other fast friends Gail Thaxton, Cherry Lou Smith, Clay Wright, Jim Reid Holden, Kenny Thaxton, Jeanne Rogers, Susan Page, Lou Lindsey, and Ricky Wiggins. I’m thinking Cherry Lou, Jeanne, Susan and Ricky all lived on the east side of town and went to East Newport School. All the rest of my earliest neighborhood and Sunday School friends ended up together in Mrs. Helen Shoffner’s first grade class at Walnut Street School. My other wonderful life-long friendships established in that first grade class include Donny Appleton, David Sibley, Gene Bennett, Joy Stanfield, Ann Gardner, Jenetta Ashley, Betsy McCall, Greer Guinn, Eddie Jones, Coy Thompson, Billy Matthews, and Martha Miller.

There’s dirt on our uniforms
From chasing all the ants and worms
We clean up and now it’s time to learn
We clean up and now it’s time to learn

We didn’t wear uniforms in the Newport schools in the late ‘50s, but we did get plenty dirty during our daily routines. We were the typical group of kids in small town Arkansas eager to go to school and learn alongside our playmates It was very clear from the point of beginning that "we’re going to be friends."

We made other friendships along the way after those earliest, most innocent years. After those days at Walnut Street School, we came together with others at Gibbs-Albright Elementary, Newport Junior High, and Newport High School. Then came relationships beyond our school days…….college pals, sports teammates, fraternity brothers and sorority sisters, business associates, community partners, friends of friends……the small intimate circle expanded, love grew.

Numbers, letters, learn to spell
Nouns and books and show and tell
Play time, we will throw the ball
Then back to class, through the hall
The teacher marks our height against the wall
The teacher marks our height against the wall

Walking through the halls of Newport schools together has morphed into racing through life. "Show and tell" time is now an important business presentation. Those pencil markings on the walls symbolizing our growth have surely faded away, but those "wonder years" together are imbedded in our hearts.

During our reunion last month, our littermates who are no longer running through life’s hallways were remembered. Our departed classmates include Betty Barber, Larry Binning, Raymond Cameron, Becky Cathey, Eddie Crawford, Glenn Gay, Rex Grigsby, Greer Guinn, Keith Huey, Kathy Looney, Bobby Ruddell, Marsha Scott, Becky Scroggs, Frank Simmons, Kenny Taylor. Coy Thompson read a poem entitled "Friendship" written by classmate Linda Gail Burris as a memorial. Coy noted that Danny Ray (NHS ’71), a fun loving littermate, passed from this life on the eve of our reunion just three days before his 58th birthday.

The name of my sweet forever friend, Mary Wynne Parker, was added to this list of departed littermates last Sunday, October 24, 2010. Mary Wynne had been diagnosed with Stage IV ovarian cancer in July, 2000, a month following our 30th high school reunion. She valiantly battled the disease for more than ten years. Her husband, the Reverend Grady Perryman, called Mary Wynne his "Champ."

In recognition of her determined fight and her steadfast faith, I lift up Mary Wynne’s fisted glove in victory. Mary Wynne Parker Perryman is survived by her husband, Grady; her son, David, and his wife, Victoria; her daughter, Melissa; and her sister, Kaki Parker Kinard (NHS ’67) and her husband, Jim. In magical coincidence, classmate Jerry "Pud" Wooldridge was in North Carolina on business on the day of Mary Wynne’s memorial service. I have been told that ‘coincidence’ is God’s way of remaining anonymous. The result in this ‘coincidence’ is that Pud was able to drive the short distance from Charlotte to Southern Pines to represent our NHS Class of 1970 at the service in proper fashion. I am truly grateful to Pud for being there on our behalf. I know each of you join me in holding Mary Wynne’s family close in your hearts.

In a twist of fate, Mary Wynne’s niece and Kaki’s daughter, Jennifer Wynne Johnson, was diagnosed with breast cancer within months of Mary Wynne’s cancer diagnosis. At the time of her diagnosis, Jennifer was 27 years of age and pregnant. Today she is cancer free and serves as the executive director of the Young Survival Coalition in Kansas City. Jennifer’s story is featured in the October issue of Better Homes and Gardens magazine. I know Mary Wynne was extremely proud of Jennifer.

I also ask that you lift up in prayer lifelong friend Betsy McCall. Betsy continues to struggle against ALS (Lou Gehrig’s disease) and her daughter, Katie Compton Presley, informs me that Betsy’s health is in serious decline. Today, Halloween Day, is Betsy’s birthday. I wish you love, dear Betsy. Happy Birthday! A playful Betsy McCall alongside happy go lucky Gene Bennett graces the introductory page for our senior class in the 1970 Lakeside yearbook. Betsy’s winsome smile and amiable personality fill up my heart.

In July I sought your collective prayers for Mr. Bob Guthrie, our junior high school principal and my former scoutmaster. Mr. Guthrie passed from this life earlier this month. I ask that you hold his wife, VaRue, close in thought and prayer. Mr. Guthrie provided many of us a guiding hand during those impressionable junior high years. After my family moved from Hazel Street to South Main, Mr. and Mrs. Guthrie became my neighbor and our friendship developed. Mr. Guthrie left Newport in 1967, but he never left my heart. Another twist of fate…..with the Guthrie’s move, a new friend entered. Beloved friend and classmate Kathy Spann’s family moved into the Guthrie’s old home and made it their own. Excellent neighbors, wonderful friends. To be friends!

Angela Rutledge has informed me that Karon Adcox (NHS ’68) recently departed this life. Karon had been living and working in Las Vegas. Karen was a jovial soul with penchant for mischief. Her presence will be sorely missed by all who knew and loved her.

Throughout this evening we have had a steady stream of youthful ghouls and goblins knocking on our door and greeting us with ‘trick or treat.’ It is Halloween, a time that rekindles memories of days gone by. My thoughts travel back to times with childhood friends as we dressed in Halloween costume and walked the neighborhoods of our youth seeking to fill bags with goodies. I also remember those times when the Methodist Youth Fellowship would Trick or Treat for UNICEF, an organized effort to raise monies on behalf of the United Nations Children’s Fund. This year marks the sixtieth anniversary of the Trick or Treat for UNICEF initiative, which has become a Halloween tradition for youth around the nation. To be with friends playing and working for the common good creates fond memories.

And we don’t notice any time pass
Because we don’t notice anything
And we sit side by side in every class
The teacher thinks that I sound funny
But she likes it when you sing
Tonight I’ll dream in my bed
While silly thoughts run through my head
Of the bugs and alphabet
And when I wake tomorrow I’ll bet
That you and I will walk together again
Because I can tell that we are going to be friends
I can tell that we are going to be friends

When we first met as toddlers it was a given that we were going to be friends. Friends for life. Friends forever. I am certain that "I will walk together again" with my dear friend Mary Wynne Parker and our other littermates who stepped away from life’s path months and years before, just as we walked together on graduation day more than forty years ago. I extend thanks to Billie Jean Nelson, Buddy Rutledge, Jamie Hopkins and others on the reunion planning committee for putting together such a meaningful event. While the time together was short, the memories created will endure. I enjoyed visits with some old friends not seen for quite a while, years in some instances….Drew Stewart, Rue Luter, Victor Proffitt, Bobby Joe Forrester, Mickey Doyle, Rickey Harris, Cledy Pollard, Lynda Matthews, Marion Mullins, Rick Dobson, Tommy Long, Clifton Morgan, Rick Riley, Mike Tinsley, Mary Lynn Fortenberry, Madonna Stroud, Sandra Huey, Ruth Johnston, Mary Sullins, Sharon Haigwood, and the Smart twins, Betty and Billie Jean. I even got to dance with Kristine Artymowski. To be friends!

Following the reunion, Kathryn and I wandered down to Front Street in downtown Newport to take in the final hours of Depot Days and capture the opportunity to see other ‘old’ friends. We enjoyed a nice visit with Charlie and Peggy Gardner Watson (NHS ’57) and Sonny Burgess. Please keep the Watson family close in prayer as Charlie’s and Peggy’s son, Charles, recovers from receiving a liver transplant. My visit with Sonny was short since he had just come in from Austria where he and the Pacers had been on tour. We caught Ronnie McDowell’s performance with D. J. Fontana accompanying him on drums. Fontana was the drummer for Elvis Presley in the early years. Nothing like a little rock n’ roll music on the streets of Newport on a fall evening. Now that is a stroll down the proverbial Memory Lane, that ‘street’ where all my childhood pals reside today. I knock on a door of a house on Memory Lane. The door opens, a child speaks, "I can tell that we are going to be friends."

I am Miles from Nowhere…………..guess I’ll take my time.

joe

PS – The White Stripes will be the first musical guests when Conan O’Brien’s new show, "Conan," airs on November 8 on TBS.

Goin' Back

You all know that music has the power to transport you back in time. A certain song can virtually rekindle thoughts of a favored place or spark remembrances of a sweet embrace…..and time is not a factor.

A few days ago Kathryn and I were driving the back roads of Baxter County and listening to the Spectrum (Sirius/XM channel 45) on satellite radio. I’m not sure the strongest of AM radio station signals could have been picked up in this remote area back in the 1960s. But in this day I heard the DJ introduce a new Phil Collins song. I’m not much of a Phil Collins fan, but my wife likes his music…so I didn’t change the channel. The lyrics to the song caught my ear and instantly took me back in time. I realized that this ‘new’ Phil Collins song was a cover of an old Byrds tune entitled “Goin’ Back” released as a single in October, 1967. The song was included on the Byrds 1968 album “The Notorious Byrd Brothers.”

I think I’m goin’ back

To the things I learned so well in my youth

I think I’m returning to

Those days when I was young enough to know the truth

I really want to think that I am still “young enough to know the truth,” although I must admit that it is often difficult to discern the truth when attempting to follow the heightened political debate in any given election cycle. I spent a portion of last week in Washington, DC on a regular visit associated with banking lobby matters and as a result my present perspective is a bit suspicious.

Back to the music…”Goin’ Back’ was written by Carole King and Gerry Goffin and it had actually been first recorded by Dusty Springfield in 1966 when it rose to the top ten on the United Kingdom song charts. I’ve never heard that version. What is interesting to me is that Phil Collins chose this song as the title track on his yet to be released album “Going Back.” Collins’ album “Going Back” is scheduled for release in the United States later this month and the entire song list is dedicated to covers of Motown and soul standards of the 1960s with the exception of “Going Back.” (I guess since Collins is English he was compelled to properly spell out “Going” in his release rather than maintaining the abbreviated “Goin’” in the song and album title.) Why this lone reflective ballad sits amongst the soul classics on this album is a mystery to me. Just as the Byrds released “Goin’ Back” in advance of their album “The Notorious Byrd Brothers,” Phil Collins has chosen to follow suit in releasing “Going Back” as a single in advance of his album of the same title. I’m eager to hear his renditions of the classic Motown sounds I loved as a youth. Who knows, I may become a Phil Collins fan with the release of this ‘new’ music. His version of “Goin’ Back” captured my ear and my heart. It took me to a time and place I enjoy visiting……Newport, Arkansas in ‘60s.

Shortly after the last time I sat down to talk to myself on the pages of Miles from Newport, I was made aware that two people I had fondly remembered in that mind game had departed this life. Jack Payne informed me that his brother, Mike (NHS ’67), succumbed to his battle with cancer just weeks after my last writing. I had just reconnected with Mike in the months prior to his death through correspondence with his brother, Jack. I am grateful for the brief visits and memories we shared on the streets of Facebookland where we could ‘talk’ under the vapor lights of Remmel Park and in the dugout of old Memorial Field as if we had never left those hallowed places of youthful days. And Becky Travis informed me that Mr. Billy Hobbs, my junior high science teacher and assistant scoutmaster, had passed from this life just days before I had scribbled out my thoughts in the “Just Us Kids” piece. While a science teacher, Mr. Hobbs was an exceptional artist. He was also well versed in outdoor life as evidenced by his skills in setting up campouts for our scout troop. In retrospect, Mr. Hobbs probably was the first true ‘Renaissance Man’ I ever knew. I regret that our paths did not cross after my school day experiences in Newport. Thoughts of Mike Payne and Mr. Billy Hobbs take me back…..

In saying “goodbye” to Mike and Mr. Hobbs, I say “hello” to Julian Thomas Carlin, grandchild number three and second son of our daughter Lynli and her husband Tony. Julian was born July 21, 2010. As many of you know, grandchildren are such a joy. Julian joins his four year old brother, Oliver, and soon to be two year old cousin Claire Wade (daughter of our daughter Evelyn and her husband Nick Wade) in brightening our personal world. I enjoy reading about the grandchildren of my friends and former classmates on their Facebook sites. Lifetime friend and littermate Freeman Travis is expecting his first grandchild to arrive any moment. I ran across Freeman’s path last week in Newport and the excitement was in his smile.

Letting thoughts roll from the mind onto the page offers ample opportunity for mental lapse. Writing the Miles’ Files is indeed a therapeutic mind game for me and I seek therapy at times when I stumble on life’s pathway. I was remembering the lively group that gathered at Edward “Ash” Kinney’s gravesite last March in the previous Miles’ Files posting and referred to Beverly Morehead as Beverly Washam. Yes, an error easily explained since Don Washam was Beverly’s stepfather, but I know better. I will also say that gathering for Edward’s funeral was a mind blowing experience, but the faces in the crowd that day took me back to “those days when I was young enough to know the truth.” When my memory is sharp and on target I take full credit for playing the mind game well. In those instances when the old memory falters, I blame the cheap scotch that is at my side. I’m thinking I need to upgrade my inventory of excellent single malts that are sure to improve the mind. Now what is the name of that therapist….Balvenie or Glenlivet???

Now there are no games

To only pass the time

No more electric trains

No more trees to climb

But thinking young and growing older is no sin

And I can play the game of life to win

Playing this mind game I so enjoy is similar to playing golf….some days are better than others. Golf games are opportunities for “goin’ back” to Newport and basking in the laughter shared with old friends. Twice this summer have I been back to Newport to visit with friends with a golf game being my excuse to return. The annual Newport Country Club Invitational Tournament in July had me “goin’ back” in the company of a new partner for the first time in fifteen years. Former partner Greg Hubbard had an opportunity to play with his son, Luke, this year, which was a real treat for the Hubbard boys. So I partnered with and played in the shadow of long time pal Rodney Landes from El Dorado. Rodney works with my life-long friend Jerry Bullard (NHS ’71). We are all bankers and laugh the same language. Jerry is not Rodney’s only Newport connection. Rodney and Edward Kinney were SAE pledge brothers at the University of Arkansas. We had a blast on the golf course in the best golf tournament in the state of Arkansas. As fate would have it, Rodney and I had the same two day score as Luke and Greg Hubbard, which placed us in the same flight and paired us together for the final day of the tournament. Let’s just say Luke gave the rest of us a lesson that day pushing Rodney and me out of the money. Oh to be young again. I’m “goin’ back”…….

This past Friday I returned to the scene of that fun filled July golf outing in Newport for the second annual Beverly Tapp Memorial Scholarship Tournament hosted by Beverly’s sons, Doug and Jeff Tapp, who are ably assisted by Beverly’s NHS Class of 1962 mates and shepherded by their father, Jody. The tournament raises scholarship monies for education students attending Arkansas State University, Beverly’s alma mater. It is a bittersweet event in memory of one of Newport’s finest teachers and a dear friend. Nothing but fun is allowed on the course and when you are playing with Coach Butch Duncan it is easy to have a good time. Laughter abounds! This event is a four person scramble format. Our other two team members are Butch’s brother Tommy and Butch’s son Blake. Thank goodness Blake is one fine golfer. In the inaugural tournament last year we had a lot of fun. This year we had a lot of fun accompanied by Blake’s great round of golf. Actually Butch chipped in from just off the green for eagle on 17 and Tommy contributed a couple of long birdie putts to compliment Blake’s booming drives and accurate approach shots. I drove Butch around the course and laughed a lot. At the end of the day the scorecard reflected 3 pars, 14 birdies, an eagle, and first place in the championship flight. More importantly I was able to visit old friends Jody Tapp, John Pennington, Mike Brand, Rodger Brand, Joey Treadway, Jimmy Appleton, and many of Beverly’s 1962 classmates, among others. That 1962 group of Hounds is a loving and caring pack. I must add that Beverly’s sons both have strong connections to my NHS of 1970 mates. Jeff’s wife, April, is the daughter of littermates Martha Miller Slayton and Gary Slayton. Doug’s wife, Catherine, is the niece of littermate Linda Grady. The Tapp brothers have established a wonderful tribute in memory of their mother. I’m “goin’ back”……

I view these golf tournaments not as “games to only pass the time,” but as opportunities to visit with friends and reminisce about those tree climbing days we shared. “Thinking young and growing older” are key ingredients in playing “the game of life to win.” Newport has produced its fair share of ‘winners’ in the “game of life.” The Newport School District Charitable Foundation established a NHS Alumni Hall of Fame last year to acknowledge those old Hounds that have succeeded in the “game of life.” The annual Hall of Fame banquet is a good reason for “goin’ back” home to Newport. The 2010 inductees are John W. Mullins (NHS ’40 and former superintendent in the Newport School District); John Minor, Sr. (NHS ’52); Bill Keedy, Jr. (NHS ’63); Martha Johnston (NHS ’64); and Major General James Eddie Simmons (NHS ’69). Kathryn and I were delighted to be seated at the banquet with Newport’s new superintendent Larry Bennett and school board president Doug Cash and their wives. All in attendance witnessed Newport at its finest with such a heartwarming get together in honor of those selected to the NHS Alumni Hall of Fame. Arkansas Governor Mike Beebe (NHS ’64 and a 2009 NHS Hall of Fame inductee) presented Mr. Mullins and Bill Keedy. Dr. Patti Mullins accepted the honor on behalf of her late father. 1970 littermate Ruth Johnston introduced her sister Martha while John Pennington and Rodger Brand (both NHS ’69) presented John Minor and James Eddie Simmons, respectively. James Eddie’s recounting his life as a soldier was inspiring. Of course there was mention of the 1968 undefeated Greyhound football season with James Eddie, John Pennington, and Rodger Brand all being members of that team. But in remembering their high school exploits, James Eddie was quick to quote one of his fellow generals in saying, “nothing spoils a good war story like an eyewitness.” Having been an eyewitness to many of that group’s antics in high school, I believe those words are spot on. Therefore, no old school days stories will be spoiled here. We will let your imagination romp whenever your thoughts retreat back in time to those days when we were not only “thinking young,” but acting young. Congratulations to the 2010 NHS Hall of Fame class!

I can recall a time

When I wasn’t ashamed to reach out to a friend

Now I think I’ve got

A lot more than just my toys to lend

Now there’s more to do

Than watch my sailboat glide

But every day can be

A magic carpet ride

A little bit of courage is all we lack

So catch me if you can, I’m goin’ back

Life is busy. The pace is quick. I’ve never been “ashamed to reach out to a friend.” With all that is “more to do” in this work a day world we are in, devoting one’s time to nurturing friendships is a challenge, a challenge with great reward when the reaching out is met with open arms. Next weekend the NHS Class of 1970 will gather together in loving friendship to acknowledge the fortieth anniversary of our graduation onto life’s stage and to remember those friends who no longer walk alongside us. Just last week on the threshold of our fortieth reunion, littermate Bobby Ruddell knocked on Heaven’s door. The knock was answered, the door opened, and Bobby entered. We will miss his quiet and gentle presence at future gatherings, but his spirit will always be in our hearts. I truly appreciate the love that has been poured into preparing for this upcoming reunion by Billie Jean Nelson, Jamie Hopkins, Buddy Rutledge and other classmates. I’m looking forward to sharing memories. I’m looking forward to the laughter. As a reminder, kennel gates open at 6:00pm on Saturday, September 25, 2010 onto the ballroom of the Newport Country Club, the site of many high school dances and events when we were school mates. As I look through “my back pages” from the stories of our youth I’m reminded that “we were so much older then, we’re younger than that now.” So it’s time to catch up with one another………..”I’m goin’ back” to Newport to see old friends. See you there!

I’m Miles from Nowhere…………..and about 100 miles upstream from Newport. Guess I’ll take my time…………..

joe

Leaving a Trail

I'm Joe Miles, a small town Arkansas 'kid' and a 1970 graduate of Newport High School. My daughters fashioned this blog site as a forum for my scribbled thoughts about Newport and its people, then and now. Newport is located in northeastern Arkansas on the White River. Many of Newport's young folk move to other locales after their high school experience. My writings were initiated in early 2000 in efforts to encourage my classmates to return to Newport for our 30th high school reunion that year with no intention of continuing them after that event. However, others' encouraging me to keep on writing reminiscent stories of youthful experience drives me to spill my thoughts out onto a blank page allowing those thoughts to talk back to me. This exercise is therapeutic for me. One of my former classmates dubbed these stories the Miles' Files. For the past ten years I have been sending the Miles' Files to a growing list of family and friends on an irregular time frame. My daughters have posted my remembrances of Newport and its townspeople along with some writings related to my work in Arkansas banking to this site to create the Miles from Newport blog. I am hopeful all readers will see reflections of their own 'coming of age' stories in my writings. The mascot of Newport High School is the Greyhound. I often refer to my classmates as my 'littermates.' Followers of the Miles from Newport blog are recognized as the 'Pack and Pups.' If you have left paw prints in Newport, Arkansas or if you have befriended a 'stray pup' from Newport on your life's journey, I invite you to join the pack and follow along. If you are a fellow blogger with Newport ties or a blogger who has adopted a Newport 'pup,' please leave your blog address behind so that I may follow your trail as you make your way to and from the kennel. I appreciate the friendship that we share.

Just Us Kids...July 7, 2010

Last evening while sitting on the deck of our unfinished home overlooking the White River near Norfork just as the sun was setting over the Ozarks, my wife Kathryn asked if I ever thought of wanting time to stand still. I paused. In that moment time seemed to stutter a bit. Lightning bugs glittered as darkness approached. A hazy mist rose up from the river below the bluffs. My mind drifted downstream toward Newport.

Forty years ago this past May the Newport High School class of 1970 cleaned out our lockers, bid farewell to the hallowed halls of NHS, and scampered away from Remmel Park. We closed the book on our time together as high school classmates. On graduation day, each of us clutched our diploma in one hand and held tightly to our personal ambitions in the other. The future was sitting in front of us much like a strong drink, a mixture of uncertainty and excitement. I was ready to gulp it down. Just like many kids, I was eager to step away from the limits of a small town.What did I know? I was eighteen. But the thoughts of escaping the small town life had been brewing since junior high as I watched the older 'kids' step out beyond the Newport city limits to pursue life.

James McMurtry penned a song about small town kids yearning to strike out on their own and searching for success entitled "Just Us Kids" released in 2009. McMurtry is the son of novelist Larry McMurtry of "Lonesome Dove" fame. If you aren't familiar with James McMurtry's music, I think you have a hole in your world that needs filling. I will share a few lines from
"Just Us Kids."

It's just us kids hangin' round the park at night
Hangin' round 'neath the vapor light
We got no drugs and we got no guns
Not even botherin' anyone

Hanging out in the shadows of the street lights in and around Remmel Park was a favorite pastime of Newport boys in the '60s before we were driving age. Of course, most of us were driving before we were 'driving age,' but that is beside the point. We gathered as kids in the dim light near the Legion Hut to dream and scheme. Typically there would be a little beer or cheap whiskey consumed that 'improved' our knowledge of things. As an early teen the 'drug culture' was something I had only read about going on in the far away sideshows of Haight-Asbury and Greenwich Village. As far as firearms were concerned I was toting my Daisy BB gun round about then. More of James McMurtry's lyrics makes me wonder if he were listening in on some
of those Remmel Park conversations............

Oh knock it off Johnny
Man, you're livin' in your head
You ain't even got a car
And those chicks don't believe a word ya said

I didn't have a car in high school. My parents were very generous in allowing use of the family car, but more often than not I was a passenger in the Pennington boys' 1957 Chevrolet. Our soundtrack was the night's playlist on WLS, the clear channel AM radio station in Chicago. And we always had Ben E. King's "Stand by Me" playing on the eight track. If not with the Pennington boys I was often hitching a ride with Mike Brand, Jim Reid Holden, Donny Appleton, John Brownd or Mike Fortune. Just us kids cruisin' around town, circlin' our favorite haunts, lookin' for the usual suspects, wantin' to see and be seen. We were pretty good kids, yet we were also pretty good at creating a bit of mischief. It was our own Arkansas brand of "American Graffiti," the 1973 George Lucas 'coming of age' film set in early 1960's California. In my mind it is difficult to grasp that such days are forty plus years removed from today. But then I'm one of those kids who spends a fair amount of time 'livin' in my head.' Songwriters like James McMurtry add color to my visions. Their words bring form to my abstract imagination. Their music brings clarity to my clouded memory. I'm thankful for the talented songwriters and musicians who bring happiness to my heart. I'm thankful for my many friends who took me with them on benign car rides around town as we were 'coming of age.' As for the 'chicks,' they still don't believe much I have to say.

After high school we scattered. Yeah, our paths would crisscross on occasion. But then time and distance extended the separation for many and contacts were few and far between. We developed new relationships, new circles of friends. We settled down in new places, pursued careers. Some married, families unfolded. We were following dreams. Some dreams were realized. Some dreams shattered.

I don't have to wear a necktie
I don't have to punch a clock
I started up a dot com company
And man it rocks
Won't you come with me down to Mexico
In the winter with some friends?
My divorce will be final
Along about then

We were a little out in front of the 'dot com' era, so I don't know anyone who actually "started up a dot com company." However, I do know several who invested in some 'start ups.' How did that work out for you? But back to us....... McMurtry's lyrics depict a time leading up to a ten year or twenty year high school reunion, bragging a little about being one's own boss, but still needing the support of friends when personal troubles loom. Each of us has encountered the peaks and valleys of life experience. The ride on life's roller coaster is a personal journey. I've been in the banking business for 34 years now working and living in the likes of Little Rock, Newport, Arkadelphia, Russellville, and Mountain Home. I have wonderful and reliable relationships all over Arkansas as a result of this vagabond experience. "I don't have to wear a necktie," although I do much of the time. I find it easier to dress up than it is to dress down. Early in my career I was expected to wear a coat and tie every day to work, but that was then and this is now. Never have had to "punch a clock," but I do like the orderliness of a defined work day and typically observe the 'eight to five' regimen. My dreams did not include banking as a career path, but I needed a job upon finishing college and banking had a 'help wanted' sign hanging on an open door. When I was "hangin' round 'neath the vapor light" in Remmel Park as a youngster, I thought I would be an architect or a professional baseball player. My dreams failed to recognize the talent quotient required for such pursuits. And yes, 'my divorce' that capped my first marriage was final about fifteen years ago. In the midst of rebuilding life after divorce, I discovered that love is friendship caught afire. Kathryn and I recently celebrated our thirteenth wedding anniversary. Her influence in my life inspires me to reach beyond that within my grasp. It is the challenge of living that lights my fire and Kathryn that keeps it burning.

Much like the river we grew up alongside, life is rich in the many tributaries that feed it. Often we find much more pleasure in the tiny streams flowing into the main channel than we do in the mainstream itself. Recognizing that every job, every endeavor, every individual is important to
the well being of all is a key ingredient to being happy with one's self. Picture me happy!

Just us kids in the parking lot
Out here givin' it all we got
We don't want to get old and die
And there ain't nothing we wouldn't try

When we were teens hangin' out "in the parking lot" of Jack's Dairy Cup, Shelby's, Dog 'N Suds, or in our personal 'parking' lots on the 'other side of the levee' or out near Gamble Lake, I'm confident growing old never entered anyone's mind. Many of us lived on a dare. Testing the limits is in the DNA of a teenager. We were never aware of all the risks in any risk taking venture. Not all of us survived to witness the world forty years after graduation date. I really miss those friends now beyond the reach of a phone call, an email message, or a Facebook posting.

In my last writing about six months ago, I mentioned Edward "Ash" Kinney's passing from this life. A few weeks after that notice of Edward's death, family and friends gathered to remember his life. In addition to his sister, Karen, and brother, Frank, several dear friends stood in the Batesville cemetery near the final resting place of Edward's parents to commemorate his journey. Alannette Hare, Cynthia Keedy, Becky Travis, Beverly Brownd, Carolyn Wright, Betty Umsted, Beverly Washam, David McIntosh, Mick Umsted, Gay Lacy, Junior Baker, Justin Rutledge, John Brownd, and I jumped into our time machine and landed somewhere between 1961 and 1967. What a trip! From the cemetery we wandered over to Josie's Steakhouse on the banks of the White River where Karen shared photo albums and a slide presentation of pictures from the past. Edward was there with us in our hearts. Several recounted stories of precious days long gone. My earliest encounter with Edward was when I moved to South Main Street in 1959, just a block from the levee on the south side of town. The Kinney family lived on Park Place just a short distance from where the levee turned back east to run alongside Highway 14. The 'other side of the levee' was the personal playground for all the kids on that side of town, but the older boys ruled the domain. At times when the pace got a little fast for me as one of the younger pups, I remember Edward always being there to make sure I didn't fall behind. We had a favored hollowed out tree that was our resting place in that enchanted forest. Not long before his death, I received an email message from Edward recalling that favorite spot on the 'other side of the levee' and the adventurous times we shared in that place as young boys. Underneath his cool image and behind the dark glasses was a compassionate heart and perceptive eyes. The last message I received from Edward in Facebookland remains in my inbox. It arrived the day before I learned of his death. I miss those reminiscent 'conversations' with a caring friend.
Edward did not "get old and die," he remains 'forever young' in my heart and mind.

Another who did not "get old and die" is my dear friend Margaret Van Dyke. She departed this life in February at 104 years of age, but she never did "get old." Margaret knew nothing of a 'generation gap.' Her jovial attitude was contagious and she infected each and every soul fortunate enough to visit her world. Love and laughter burst forth in her presence. Our trips to St. Louis to watch the Cardinals play baseball are now cherished memories. She will be remembered as one of Newport's genuine treasures. Her passion for life and her unique style can't be copied, they can only be admired. Margaret carved her initials into my heart long ago. My memories of times with Margaret are mine and they are everlasting.

In remembering those who influenced the direction of my life's pathway, the name of Ima Jean Paige rings loud and clear. Mrs. Paige was my typing teacher and my bookkeeping teacher. These are skills polished under her watchful eye that I use repeatedly in the work a day world forty plus years after she first insisted that I type the phrase, "the quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog" over and over again. Mrs. Paige set high standards for her students and expected them to surpass those standards. Her 'firm but fair' approach to managing the classroom can be recognized in my management style. While demanding discipline, Mrs. Paige maintained an engaging wit. She cared about her students and her caring was very evident. I remind you that she and her husband owned and operated Jack's Dairy Cup, one of the favored after school 'hang-outs' for 'us kids.' She was always watching our every move both in and out of school. She left NHS following my senior year. She left this life just weeks ago. Thank you Mrs. Paige for watching over me and pointing me in the right direction.

I also note the passing from this life of Mary Lynn Pinkett (NHS '71) and Dena Nicholson (NHS '68). Their lives have been extinguished, but their smiles burn brightly in our hearts. And I reflect on the life of Sina Robinson, the mother of Bob (NHS '60) and Bee (NHS '64), who was my mother's dear friend and co-worker as well as a genuine sweetheart. I express sincere appreciation to Suellen Hare (NHS '71), Joe Peters (NHS '68), and Jane Roberts (NHS '64) for making me aware of these Newport souls who have taken the step into the realm of life everlasting.

We are growing older, but in my youthful mind we will always be just kids. This world in which we live is fraught with peril on many fronts......physical, environmental, financial. As kids we lived in the era of the Cold War and its threat of atomic bombings and nuclear fallout, we experienced the unrest of the Civil Rights movement, we were exposed to the debates about air and water pollution. Our country was being financially challenged with costs associated with an expanding space program, the advent of social programs like Medicare and food stamps, and an escalating war effort in Vietnam. Similar issues remain in the headlines of today's news sites. The looming risks to our well being are persistent.

Some dear to us face personal battles with illness, job loss, marital strife, and other life issues. At this moment two of our littermates from the NHS Class of 1970 can use the power of collective prayer. Just today I learned that childhood friend and playmate Mary Wynne Parker had an unexpected surgery Sunday to address abdominal blockage caused by recurrence of cancer. Her husband, Grady, reports that her surgery went well and following recovery they will readdress chemo treatments to continue the fight against the cancer. Sweet and gentle friend Betsy McCall is struggling with ALS (Lou Gehrig's disease) and dementia. Betsy's sister Bridget (NHS '69) has created a blog at http://www.betsyblog57.blogspot.com/ to heighten awareness to Betsy's progress. Mary Wynne and Betsy were two of the kids in my first grade class at Walnut Street School under the tutelage of Mrs. Helen Shoffner. I'm also aware that Mike Payne (NHS '67) is valiantly fighting cancer in the same determined fashion as he battled opponents on the football field or baseball diamond. I know there are others boldly facing health challenges, so I ask that we lift up in prayer those known and unknown enduring the hardships of living.

One other person in need of prayer is my former junior high principal and scoutmaster, Bob Guthrie. Mr. Guthrie recently entered Pioneer Nursing and Rehab Center in Melbourne. He has vigorously fought Parkinson's disease for many years. I visited him last weekend and reminisced about camping trips of days gone by. He introduced me to fly fishing on Sylamore Creek. I recalled us watching a deer swim the White River near Guion. He used to entertain us on campouts with his fiddle and harmonica. Remembering those times together, Mr. Guthrie asked if I would hand him the harmonica lying on his bedside table. He played a few bars and tears welled up in the corners of my eyes. We talked a bit about fellow scouts and the other troop leaders, Van Manning and Bill Hobbs. Not only was Mr. Guthrie my school principal and scoutmaster, he was my neighbor on South Main Street. He and his family moved from Newport in 1967 and eventually settled in Melbourne. I know he would appreciate a card or letter from former students and scouts. You can reach him at Pioneer Nursing and Rehab Center, 1114 East Main St., Melbourne, AR 72556.

Growing older has its challenges, but it also has its rewards. Children and grandchildren embody both the challenges and the rewards of aging gracefully.

Ya know we could really have it all
Our kid's gonna graduate next fall
I could take retirement in ten years
It's a damn short movie
How'd we ever get here?

Life is indeed a "short movie." It's drama, comedy, fantasy, action packed. We mark our time in significant life events......graduation (our own and that of our children and grandchildren), employment, marriage, childbirth, retirement. Getting from point A on life's timeline to point B is somewhat of a mystery, even to the time traveler himself. That question, "How'd we ever get here?" is a great question with a myriad of answers. I would enjoy pondering over your answers to that question.

The opening credits of our life's movie began to roll forty years ago upon our graduation from Newport High School. I feel as if I got up to go to the concession stand and just returned to my seat in the theatre today wondering what I missed in such a short period of time. Can retirement actually be on the horizon? With the kids out of school and married, how many grandchildren will be introduced to the world's magic as well as to its perils?

I now have two grandchildren....one year old Claire and four year old Oliver. And Oliver is expecting a baby brother later this month bringing the grandchild count to three. How did I ever get here? Not totally sure, but I do know that each of you accompanied me on part of my trip to this point. I began scribbling these reminiscent messages, dubbed the Miles' Files by Mama Hound Cherry Lou Smith, ten years ago as a means to encourage you, my littermates, to attend our thirtieth class reunion. It was not my intention to continue the writings following that reunion. But many of you encouraged me to keep on keeping on and ten years after (Ten Years After, now there is a great English rock band of our time) here we are. These 'short stories made long' about my hometown of Newport and its people have proven good therapy for me. I appreciate you tagging along with me whenever you can.

If ten years have passed since I first jotted down some memories of times past in Newport, then another grand get together must be upon us. It is wonderful to know that we have leaders on the ground back home setting the stage for our fortieth Greyhound reunion. Littermates Billie Jean Nelson, Jamie Hopkins, and Buddy Rutledge are the master planners for the main event scheduled for September 25, 2010 at the Newport Country Club. The kennel gates will swing open at 6:00pm. The price to participate in the fun and games is $25.00 solo or $40.00 to bring a mate. Please send your entry fee to Buddy Rutledge, c/o Rutledge Electric, P. O. Box 36, Newport, AR 72112. RSVP by August 20, 2010. For those of you who did not take Mrs. Artymowski's French class, RSVP is an acronym for a fancy French phrase meaning "please reply." In other words, let Buddy know if you will be or won't be in Newport attending the reunion on September 25. Come as you are. After all, it will be 'just us kids' and a pack of old Hound dogs hangin' out.

I have some news................

My daughters have collaborated to establish a blog site for me as a platform to continue my remembrances and to offer my perspective on life then and now. The site is still under construction, but you can now access it at http://www.miles-from-newport.blogspot.com/.

Keeping up with changing email addresses for the many recipients of the Miles' Files has become a big challenge for me. The blog site will ease the delivery of my scribbled thoughts. All of the 'stories' from the past ten years will be available on the blog as well as some additional writings.
The Miles' Files will also continue to be posted on the NHS alumni site at http://www.nhsalumni.net/.

Following the distribution of this missive I will not be mass emailing future 'stories.' I am indebted to my daughters for the time they have devoted to putting the Miles from Newport site together. Thanks to them for facilitating this next chapter in the annals of the Miles' Files. Also I appreciate friends Janie Blagg (NHS '69) and Pat Dallas (NHS '73) for their encouragement in adopting the blog concept. I invite you to drop in for 'conversation' in the Miles from Newport forum at any time you so desire. I truly depend on you to keep me informed of happenings in our collective lives that we all hold dear, so I'm hopeful that all of you will choose to follow my blog and leave comments and personal news on my door step. The door to my blog will always be unlocked. Come on in. Stay a while. In the event you don't find me at home when you come callin', you may find me wandering the streets of Facebookland.

Just us kids hangin' out today
Watchin' our long hair turnin' gray
Not so skinny maybe not so free
Not so many as we used to be

Yeah, it is very apparent that "our long hair" from the early '70s is a bit shorter and is indeed "turnin' gray." Likewise, most of us aren't as skinny as we used to be. And it is true that our freedom has been challenged from that time forty years ago when dogs ran free in Remmel Park.

Individually, the responsibilities of family and work captures a lot of the 'free time' we took for granted when we were high school students. As a nation, the repercussions of September 11, 2001 have infringed upon certain freedoms we once enjoyed without much thought. This past Sunday was the Fourth of July, Independence Day, a day when we celebrate the freedoms our forefathers fought to achieve. Today there are young soldiers continuing the fight for freedom on battlegrounds in Iraq and Afghanistan. I thank them for their service and their sacrifices and I share concern for their safety alongside their parents, grandparents, and other loved ones.

So here we are. "Not so many as we used to be."

In contemplating a response to Kathryn's question posed last night about my ever wanting time to stand still, I answered with silence. In certain instances I'm tempted to say "yes." But if time were to stand still at some definite point, I might not be where I am today. And I like where I am.

I'm Miles from Nowhere, and just about 100 Miles from Newport....................guess I'll take my time.

joe

As Tears Go By...January 16, 2010

Hound Dogs everywhere . . . and those unaware,

I have been made aware that long time friend Edward “Ash” Kinney (NHS ’67) passed from this life in the first week of this new year 2010. Just days before receiving this news I had received correspondence from Edward through Facebook. He was reminiscing about days gone by in Newport and reflecting on shared memories of friends and family members. What a treat that ‘conversation’ was for me.

Being a freshman in high school at Newport in the ’66-’67 school year brought me into daily contact with the upper classmen that I emulated. And the fact that several seniors from that year ‘took me under wing’ was reassuring to a young pup trying to find his way. Don Kersey, Buddy Summers, Bobby Fife and Edward Kinney quickly come to mind when thinking about that year and the ‘crazy characters’ I had the good fortune to know. It was a time of ‘coming of age’ for me and these ‘older kids’ played an important role in that sense. I had played baseball with many of these older boys in Little League days….boys like Billy Goss, Anson Clark, Donny Combs, and Paul McGinnis appear in the shadows of my mind. Then there are the ‘leaders’ of my Boy Scout troop….names like Larry McAllister, Andy Gray, George Rogers, and Johnny Heard ‘pop up.’ Fun loving guys like Doug Adams, Junior Cathey, Larry Doyle, Terry Wooldridge, and Mick Umsted can’t be forgotten. Greyhound football ‘heroes’ like Bill Hubbard, Jimmy Don Nicholson, Michael Payne and Robert Runyan are remembered with adoration. All of these guys were ‘cool.’ And then there are the girls from that NHS class that still occupy my dreams…..Connie Cross, Alannette Hare, Linda McGee, Shari Stuart. Smiles I can’t forget belonging to Kaki Parker, Becky Travis, Pam Dean, Kaye Duncan, Cynthia Keedy, Carolyn Walker, Maurine Heard and Martha Hipp light up the memories of those days. What a class! What class they possessed!

I remember . . .

Edward Kinney was the ‘coolest of the cool.’ I’m confident that he didn’t think that, but I did. In recent years Edward had been living in Ft. Worth, TX. It is my understanding that the remains of his earthly existence have been laid to rest near his those of his parents in Batesville. I will miss receiving the occasional message from Edward that would so often take me back to a carefree time. I know you all will join me in bidding farewell to a good and caring friend. Memories of Edward have been carved into my heart. I ask that you keep his siblings, Karen (NHS ’61) and Franky (NHS ’64), and all other family members close in thought and prayer.

Edward is not the only one of those just remembered that has stepped away from life’s path. Billy Goss, Larry McAllister, Andy Gray and Johnny Heard wandered from the path some time ago. Faith assures me that all of our paths will cross again . . .

It is the evening of the day

I sit and watch the children play

Doin’ things I used to do

They think are new

I sit and watch

As tears go by

I’m Miles from Nowhere . . .

joe

May You Always...December 27, 2009

Just how fast can Life’s wristwatch run? When last I sat down to visit with you in these pages it was early July, hot and humid as the days of summer in Arkansas are. It seems a short moment ago. As I gather my thoughts today it is Christmas, a dusting of snow on the ground here in the Ozarks. I ponder events of days passed and days to come.

We are in the last week of 2009 in quick step to the last year of the first decade of the 21st century, a time that was the setting for many science fiction stories we read as youngsters. Funny to me that we are now characters in that “fictional” setting about which we read all those years ago. The implausible hand held communication and tracking devices we saw in the “Star Trek” television shows of the ‘60s are in wide use by the masses in present day. Gosh, we can even watch television in the palm of our hands now.

Fifty years ago I often found myself sitting cross legged in the floor in front of a sturdy piece of cherry wood furniture that was nothing more than a Zenith radio and record player. A matching cabinet housed the television set. In those “growing up” years I was more inclined to listen to music on the record player than to tune in the radio or watch the television. Programming was limited and watching television was not much fun for a kid. First there was no remote control, but then there were only three television channels. And those three channels didn’t provide much of interest to children, plus getting the rooftop antenna perfectly situated for the best picture was work requiring an abundance of patience of which I had little. My mother was the greatest influence over the records purchased for our listening pleasure. Her taste in music was a bit eclectic for which I am most grateful since it exposed me to a wide variety of musical genre including show tunes, pop, and early rock ‘n roll.

Given that 2009 is in its final days ... I reflect. I have heard many lament this past year and express relief that 2009 is almost over. I must admit that 2009 has been a time of discontent on many fronts. Now I have been warned that wishing time away to get to an uncertain future is of no value, but recalling past times to better appreciate the present and to assist in setting course for the future is enlightening. I return to my place on the floor in front of that old Zenith radio/record player. My mother is taking down the Christmas tree and its trimmings, my sister is playing with her brand new Barbie doll that was all the rage in 1959, and I’m engaged in a recreation of a Civil War battle with toy soldiers from that era that I received from Santa. For those of you wondering about my father, I can imagine that he is sitting at a poker table at the Silver Moon playing his own game of skill and luck in effort to pay off Christmas. Anyway, back at home a record by the McGuire Sisters was on the turntable . . .

May you always walk in sunshine

Slumber warm when night winds blow

May you always live with laughter

For a smile becomes you so

“May You Always” climbed the charts in 1959 alongside songs by rockers Elvis Presley, Buddy Holly, Little Richard and pop stars Bobby Darin, Johnny Mathis, and the Platters. More important than its place on the charts fifty years ago is its uplifting lyrics and the message it delivers today. These last ten years from 2000 through 2009 have been trying times for many people; maybe not as socially turbulent as the ‘60s, but events of this decade have tested our emotional stability making a smile tough to come by. The song itself ‘smiles,’ and I can still ‘see’ the young and beautiful McGuire Sisters smiling as they sing it.

In the midst of the tumultuous 1960’s a New York DJ, Harry Harrison, redrafted “May You Always” with his own words and narrated this version as a holiday greeting to his listeners. I’m sure you advancing “baby boomers” heard this version, which made the Billboard charts in 1965, on the radio during Christmas seasons long ago.

May good fortune find your doorway

May the bluebird sing your song

May no trouble travel your way

May no worry stay too long

The ongoing wars in Iraq and Afghanistan sandwiched between the terrorist attacks on U. S. soil on September 11, 2001 and the lingering “Great Recession” of the past two years have rendered this decade heartbreaking and gut wrenching. Fortunes have been lost, the bluebird’s song is often silent, and ‘Worry’ is the constant companion of many with family members away from home at war defending our freedoms. Such things have altered our way of life in some respect, but faith, hope and love still abide in the hearts and souls of the American people I know.

We regularly turn to entertainment in coping with tough times. Music, theatre, movies, television, sports events . . . all good diversions. The AM radio, record player and television limitations of our youth have seen their boundaries expanded beyond measure. Satellite radio and television options seem limitless with the number of channels available. And now we have things like Pandora, a personalized internet radio medium, and YouTube, a video sharing website where we can create our own television, at our fingertips wherever we may be. “Everyday people” can be stars in the myriad of ‘reality TV’ shows you can find on the air today. In that light, “good fortune” did find the doorway of two Arkansans in the latest 2009 seasons of “American Idol” and “Survivor.” I tip my hat to Kris Allen and Natalie White for their personal victories in these ‘real world’ challenges. For those experiencing troubled times, I’m confident the bluebird will sing again.

May your heartaches be forgotten

May no tears be spilled

May old acquaintance be remembered

And your cup of kindness be filled

At Christmas time it is difficult to forget the heartaches we all suffer while traveling life’s pathway. Tears are going to be spilled along the way. Only the heartless can avoid the aches and pains of living. The holiday season at year’s end is a catalyst for remembering the kind and joyous people who have influenced our personal journeys. During the last few months of 2009 my littermate and childhood friend Greer Guinn (NHS ’70) let go of my hand and left my field of sight. I will always remember Greer’s happy heart and mischievous demeanor. Also, Walter Bellingrath (NHS ’71), the boy with the Cheshire Cat grin, passed from this life in late summer.

Carolyn Thaxton (mother of littermate Gail ‘70, Becky ‘69 and Mart ‘73), Alcorn Minor (father of Al ‘72, Leigh ‘75 and Clay ‘79), and Scott Elphingstone, Sr. (father of Scott ‘72) all ended life’s dance in the latter part of 2009. And just today I received news of the passing of Donnie Thompson, mother of classmate Coy. These four were the parents of childhood friends and Newport community leaders as I was growing up there. Ms. Carolyn Thaxton was an ever present and reliable guiding light in my life. I remember Ms. Donnie Thompson as a kind and caring mom. Alcorn Minor and Scott Elphingstone provided good direction for a prosperous Newport in the 1960’s.

Another spirited Newport soul who must be remembered is Billy Lee Riley. Just as the stretch of road from Newport to Pocahontas, Billy Lee’s birthplace, was officially being crowned “the Rock ‘N Roll Highway” in honor of those who gave birth to the “rockabilly” sound in the roadhouses up and down U.S. Highway 67, Billy Lee Riley belted out the final lyrics of his Sun Records hit, “Red Hot.” He died in August of this year. Billy Lee, your memory will forever burn “red hot” in our hearts.

Being a banker I remember two men, unknown to most of you with Newport ties, who provided much support along my career path. Both passed away in recent months. First, Bob Pratt from Mountain Home was a board member of my bank, First National Bank & Trust in Mountain Home. I met Bob early in my banking career at an Arkansas Bankers Association event and we developed a mutual respect. His son, Jim, was on campus at ASU in Jonesboro with me in the early ‘70s. I learned much about banking and friendship from knowing Bob. And then there was Wayne Hartsfield from Searcy who was the former president of First National Bank in Searcy and a former Chairman of the Arkansas Bankers Association as well as a former Chairman of the Arkansas State University Board of Trustees. In addition to those achievements, Wayne was my father’s family banker in Searcy. I will never forget Wayne standing alongside my dad’s boyhood friend, Ed Lightle, awaiting the arrival of my dad’s funeral procession at its final destination of a tiny graveyard in Center Hill, outside Searcy, that day in the fall of 1983. Wayne was always ready with needed advice and was a loyal family friend. I miss the sage advice.

Several really ‘famous’ people known worldwide have passed from this life during the last half of 2009, Ted Kennedy, Walter Cronkite, Michael Jackson just to name a few. The others I have just remembered are known within their own circle of friends and influence, but maybe not much beyond that. However, from my perspective they are all ‘famous.’ For an apt description of these fine people I will borrow the name of an Arkansas blues group, The Famous Unknowns, which was led by the late Mark Sallings. I first met Mark as a high school student at a Newport Legion Hut dance one weekend. Mark was from McCrory and was a fabulous musician. He briefly attended ASU in Jonesboro in the early ‘70s where our paths frequently crossed. I last saw him a few years back at a club in Hot Springs. I loved his music! Mark died in an auto accident outside Memphis early this year.

May you always be a dreamer

May your wildest dream come true

May you find someone to love

As much as I love you

Yes, this initial decade of the 21st century has been a bit nightmarish at times. If one dreams a lot, the occasional nightmare can be expected. I consider myself fortunate in that I seem to be able to tuck the nightmares away and let the dreams run wild. In the midst of these chaotic times in the banking business and the trials of everyday living, I have experienced a few ‘dreamy’ moments in 2009.

My wife, Kathryn, and I took a trip to New York City this summer especially to see Matt Cavenaugh star in the revival of “West Side Story” on Broadway. Matt is the son of childhood friend Margaret Duncan Cavenaugh (NHS ’72). He is a super talent and the performance was magnificent. After the show Matt invited us backstage in the historic Palace Theatre and guided us on a personal tour. He was a gracious host and delightful young man. In addition to “West Side Story,” we also attended performances of “9 to 5,” “Hair,” “Next to Normal,” and “Mary Stuart.” Following the “Next to Normal” show we had an opportunity to visit with Kyle Massey who has a leading role in this wonderful musical. Kyle is the son of Dean Massey, a classmate of mine at ASU. Both Matt and Kyle grew up in Jonesboro, two Arkansas lads doing well on the “Great White Way.” A couple of other highlights from this ‘dream’ of a trip were chance meetings with two celebrities. We met Dr. Ruth Westheimer prior to the “Mary Stuart” play outside the theatre. I didn’t seek out any sexual advice from her, but Kathryn snapped a photo of us and I am really tall compared to Dr. Ruth. And while walking the streets near Central Park one day we met George Takei who played Captain Sulu in the “Star Trek” television series. When he asked where we were from and we replied “Arkansas,” he informed us that he considered himself an Arkansan following his experience of spending much of his childhood in Rohwer, Arkansas in a Japanese internment camp during World War II. He is a most pleasant man and very generous with his time. May you always discover the joy in the happenstances of life.

On August 4 the Newport High School Charitable Foundation honored six NHS alumni with induction into a newly established Hall of Fame. Five of the six honorees are exceptionally deserving. They are husband and wife Doyle (NHS ’37) and Raye Jackson (NHS ’39) Rogers, who are iconic figures in Arkansas business and philanthropy; former U. S. Senator Kaneaster Hodges (NHS ’56), Arkansas Governor Mike Beebe (NHS ’64), and Greyhound and Arkansas Razorback basketball star Charles Balentine (NHS ’81). The qualifications of the sixth honoree remain suspect in my mind since that individual is me. I am overwhelmed with the genuine honor of being recognized among this group of men and women, all of whom I admire. May you always appreciate the teachers of life’s lessons such as those I had in Newport schools.

A couple of months ago Kathryn and I started building a house on a bluff overlooking the White River just above the confluence with the North Fork River. The site provides a beautiful view of the White as it flows downstream toward my beloved hometown of Newport. Along the river’s edge and directly below our home site is the railroad track that runs south to Newport. Kathryn designed the house and visits the site almost daily as this ‘dream’ of ours takes shape. She frequently reminds me that the ‘dream’ is in the view and not the house itself. We eagerly await the day that we can fully occupy the ‘dream’ of living there each day. The real magic of this new home place is that the waterway, the railway and the highway right outside my door all directly lead to Newport, a place that I love and cherish, a place that I will always know as ‘home,’ a place where my earliest ‘dreams’ were envisioned. Wild and crazy dreams do come true when you find some place and someone to love just as I love you, my friends. May you always realize that home is where the heart is.

My mother gently lifts the turntable’s arm from the record and the voices of the Maguire Sisters fade away. I pick up my toy soldiers and the last page on the 1959 calendar quickly changes to 2009.

I will leave you with the opening lines from Harry Harrison’s version of “May You Always”. . .

As the holiday bells ring out the old year, and sweethearts kiss,

And cold hands touch and warm each other against the year ahead,

May I wish you not the biggest and best of life,

But the small pleasures that make living worthwhile

I’m Miles from Nowhere . . . Happy New Year!!!

joe

Hound Call - With Sadness...July 23, 2009

NHS Classmates of 1970 and friends from other points in time,

With sadness I inform you of the passing from this life of our littermate Greer Guinn. Greer’s flickering flame went dark earlier this week. While time and distance have been barriers, our friendship remains firmly rooted in childhood and teenaged memories. Greer and his father, Pete, took my dad and me to my very first Arkansas Razorbacks football game in Little Rock in the fall of 1960. It was a less than memorable game in that the Hogs won 3-0. Not much to cheer about except for the excitement of two little 8 year old boys sharing a Razorbacks victory at War Memorial Stadium in the company of their dads. Of course Greer and I shared many other moments in life creating fond memories, but that game and the laughter we shared will forever be held in my heart.

I know all of you will join me in holding Greer’s family close in thought and prayer.

Greer knocked on Heaven’s door and it was opened to him . . .

Beyond the door

There's peace I'm sure.

And I know there'll be no more . . .

Tears in heaven

“Tears in Heaven,” Eric Clapton, 1992

With love,
joe

Maybe It's Only Yesterday...July 10, 2009

Excuse me for a moment while I wipe away the cobwebs from my computer monitor and blow the dust off the keyboard. Now what were we “talking” about???

I been one poor correspondent, and I been too, too hard to find

But it doesn’t mean you ain’t been on my mind

“Sister Golden Hair,” America, 1975

So many moons have passed the night sky since we last sat together in these pages. As a banker I have been distracted by the happenings in the world’s financial circles, especially the convulsions in the banking sector over the past year. Also, periodic travels often had me questioning my own whereabouts. During this time I have been a “poor correspondent,” but thoughts of valued friendships are always in my embrace. My term as chairman of the Arkansas Bankers Association came to a close in early May and I’m catching my breath after that whirlwind experience. I passed the helm to friend Reynie Rutledge of Searcy (husband of Ann Van Hook, NHS ’69) and I am confident Reynie will enjoy good success steering the Arkansas bankers’ flagship through these turbulent economic straits. In any event way too much time has slipped away between visits with my Newport littermates. I enjoy your company.

The recent death of Michael Jackson, the indisputable “King of Pop,” caused me to flip the pages of my life’s calendar back to our senior year in high school. It was that year that the Jackson 5 burst upon the music scene. Forty years ago this summer Michael Jackson and his four older brothers strolled into the Motown recording studios for the first time just as we prepared to walk into Newport High School for our last hurrah. The first four singles released by the Jackson 5 all shot to number one on the record charts between January of 1970 and October of that same year. I was 17 and trying to find my way in the world. Michael Jackson was 11 and appeared on top of that world I found so mysterious and confusing. Their music transitioned the time of my personal declaration of independence.

By the end of the 1970s the Jackson 5 had splintered and Michael Jackson’s personal star rose to even greater heights in the ‘80s. My daughters were all born in the early to mid ‘80s and they quickly adopted Michael Jackson’s music as their own. Daughter Evelyn even had a life size poster of Michael Jackson on the wall in her room. I had moved my family back to Newport in late 1982 and Jackson’s music links me to that time in my life. I became active in the Jaycees on my return to Newport and one Halloween we sponsored a “Haunted House” event at the old Jackson County jail. In addition to ghostly sound effects, our background music was Jackson’s “Thriller.” The kids loved it. And so did I. Michael Jackson’s music provided a common bond with something of interest to my girls. It remains a common thread in our social DNA.

As is always the case, things change over time. And in thinking about change “I’m starting with the man in the mirror” (“Man in the Mirror,” Michael Jackson, 1988). Most of you who have not seen me in a good while would probably see me as practically unchanged since our high school days (he thought to himself as he muffled a giggle). And such assessment would be pretty accurate relative to the exaggerated changes in Michael Jackson’s appearance over those same forty years. When I look in the mirror the changes I notice “pale” in comparison to Jackson’s makeover (pun intended). But such changes in physical appearance lack importance in the overall scheme of things. It is only important to know that things change and our personal “feelings” about the certain changes going on around us are ours alone. I will miss Michael Jackson’s genius and the future music he may have created. I will miss his amazing dance steps, those I tried so desperately to emulate in my younger days. But his music that has captured my attention for the past forty years is ours for the listening and the dancing. Michael Jackson’s death will not change that. His passing from this life once again heightens my awareness of the fragility of things and the attentive care we should render while things are as they are.

I don’t get back to Newport as often as I would like. It seems that most times my visits are for remembering someone who has slipped silently away from life’s path. Just weeks ago I attended Phil Hout’s (NHS ’56) funeral service at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in Newport and then his interment at Walnut Grove Cemetery. I hold his wife Ann, children Kim, Pam, and David and his grandchildren close in my heart. Phil was a mentor of mine. He provided a guiding hand when I was a young banker in Newport. We shared stories. He was an excellent storyteller. Phil’s stories were often spun from the conversation at hand sparking a memory of distant times. They were told with a “feeling” that could jump from him to you without notice.

When I stepped from my car at Phil’s funeral I felt “a change” come over me. There is something special about stepping onto the ground in Jackson County, the place where I was born and where I spent my formative years. I used to play pick up baseball games on a vacant lot on South Walnut Street where Phil Hout’s parents eventually built a house. Such places are hallowed ground. Whenever I walk across the ground of a familiar place in Newport I feel rich. Maybe it is the richness of the soil you find in the White River bottoms that brings on such feeling. Maybe it is the sweat and the tears that have dried upon the fields after being shed by those who worked hard there to make a living that renders such emotion. Maybe it is the spirit of those gone on before us who assured an improved quality of life for future generations, especially those who fought to defend our freedoms, that lifts me up. Maybe it is the deep and interesting history stamped upon the land by the pioneers, farmers, slaves, soldiers, riverboat captains, merchants, railroaders, and “honky tonkers” who have called Jackson County home that inspires me. Whatever the reason underlying that special “rich” feeling each time I set foot in my hometown, it is ever present and I am thankful for it.

I know the persistent richness of Jackson County lies within the hearts of those who call it home. Even though that persona is constant, the landscape of my hometown has changed over the years. It has not been a Michael Jackson makeover. Some of the differences are subtle ones. But there have been some altering restorations and some necessary demolitions of buildings that are or were vessels of memories. The faces of Newport and Jackson County have changed as well. Some went to war and didn’t return; some moved in from other places; some have grown older; some newborns have arrived, some have stepped away from life’s journey. Yes, changes have taken place, but my love for this place and its people is pure and my memories are sweet.

There are a couple of real “homecoming” events scheduled in Newport that will be excellent opportunities for you to “feel” rich in the embrace of those who call it home. The 51st annual Newport Country Club Invitational Golf Tournament is the weekend of July 17-19. I missed it last year and I don’t plan on that happening again. Even if you don’t play golf you can join in the party. And speaking of party, on September 26 there is Depot Days where you can revisit the “glory days” of Newport after river and rail came together. You can listen to the soundtrack of the Rock ‘n Roll era that reverberated from the honky-tonks and roadhouses up and down U. S. Highway 67, now officially known as the Rock ‘n Roll Highway following proclamation by the Arkansas legislature in this past session. Hats off to Sonny Burgess and Henry Boyce for their roles in making this happen. Headliners at Depot Days are Sonny Burgess and the Pacers and Jason D. Williams. For more information on this fun event you can email depotdays@yahoo.com or visit Depot Days on Facebook. I hope to see you there!

When I do return to Newport I always take a leisurely stroll down “Memory Lane.” It is a must because there are faces once adored that I can no longer see. Newport names that I remember with fondness include Lonnie Bennett (NHS ’53 and father of Dianne and Leanne, ’72); Bess James (mother of Barbie, NHS ’72); Laverne Morgan Long (NHS ’51 and mother of Ginger ’73); Lois Gist Black (NHS ’44 and mother of Buddy ‘68, Kenny ’72 and David ‘74, Greyhounds all); Dorothy Fife (mother of Tommy, NHS ’57, Bobby ’67, and Barbara ’68); Millie McAllister (mother of Cindy, NHS ’69 and littermate Sandy, ’70); Betty Parsley Shelton (NHS ’49 and mother of Donnie, ’73); Laurie Crews Elchin (NHS ’75); Ginger Crum Combs (NHS ’71); Danny Howard and David Sullins (husband and brother, respectively, of littermate Mary Sullins Howard (NHS ’70); Coy Womble (father of childhood and neighborhood pal Coy); and Doris Scott (one of my favorite “church ladies” at First United Methodist Church in Newport). While each of these names has been erased from life’s roll book over the past several months they are forever etched upon my heart and those of many others who knew and loved them.

I also remember Jackson County native son George Kell (Swifton ’39) who departed this life in late March. My father and George met as freshman classmates at Arkansas State College in Jonesboro in the fall of 1939 and remained fast friends until my dad’s death in 1983, the year that George was inducted into the National Baseball Hall of Fame. When I returned to Newport in late ’82 to work for First State Bank, Mr. Kell served on that bank’s board of directors. I hold in my possession today a few cherished baseball mementoes from that time thanks to George Kell’s thoughtfulness and generosity.

Turning to baseball for a moment, the 80th Major League All-Star Game will be played in St. Louis next week. The last time this prestigious game was played in St. Louis was 1966 when the previous Busch Memorial Stadium was brand new. The iconic Gateway Arch had been completed just a few months before and was not yet open to the public. I remember . . . my father took me to that 1966 All-Star game. Doc Hawk and Jimbo Hardin accompanied us to the game. What a thrill that was for a fourteen-year-old kid. It seems like only yesterday . . .

Remembering George Kell as a local lad with national reputation leads me to think of others with celebrity fare that influenced me from afar and have left this life over the past several months. Farrah Fawcett comes to mind. Her famous “pin-up” poster adorned the wall of my apartment when I was in graduate school. She was our generation’s Betty Grable or Rita Hayworth. My favorite actor of all time, Paul Newman, died late last year. Three of his movies rank among the very best I have ever seen. “The Sting,” “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid,” and “Cool Hand Luke” are first class flicks. Another fine actor that came onto the scene a bit before my time, but had staying power was Karl Malden. My two favored Malden movies were “Patton” and “The Cincinnati Kid.” Both are must see cinema. And then there was Ed McMahon, Johnny Carson’s sidekick on “The Tonight Show,” that kept me company many a night during my high school and college years as I pretended to study. Entertainers often fuel my imagination.

Forty years ago this month man first stepped on the moon. For the benefit of some of the younger readers, this man was not Michael Jackson. Jackson’s famous “moonwalk” was introduced to us in the ‘80s and his music had not yet pierced the airwaves when Astronaut Neil Armstrong informed NASA’s mission control that “the Eagle has landed” on the moon’s surface. Armstrong’s initial “moonwalk” on July 20, 1969 was the culmination of a promise made by President John F. Kennedy when I was a young grade school student. A dream had been realized. A bunch of us watched this historic event on television at Drew Stewart’s house on Walnut Street and then ran into the front yard to peer up into the night sky as if we might possibly see the man on the moon from earth. The number one song being played on the radio in the weeks surrounding that first “moonwalk” was one with futuristic lyrics entitled “In the Year 2525.” The one hit wonder group of Zager & Evans brought it to our ears. Its concluding chorus is . . .

Now it’s been ten thousand years, man has cried a billion tears

For what, he never knew, now man’s reign is through

But through eternal night, the twinkling of starlight

So very far away, maybe it’s only yesterday

In the short history of the world I am sure “man has cried a billion tears” or more. Gosh, I may have cried that many by myself. Tears of sorrow, tears of joy, and tears of disbelief have danced upon my face as I have watched life’s newsreel deliver the stories. I am lucky in that my tearful moments have been balanced with lots of laughter. In observing life I am mindful that every story is a personal story and the vantage points are many. Thoughts, opinions, and feelings about certain events are equally varied. But a common denominator is the time frame in which a happening occurs. And as I grow older the boundaries of time seem to blur and it is clear I am losing track. It is evident that time flies whether or not one is having fun. Do you see things as I do? Can it be that forty years have passed since Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin left footprints on the moon, forty years since the Jackson 5 stepped through Motown’s front door, forty years since we last walked the halls as seniors at Newport High School? Was it really forty-two years ago that I felt the excitement of attending the All-Star game in St. Louis with my dad? And are you sure it has been fifty years since Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, and the Big Bopper perished in a plane crash on “the day the music died?” Yesterday’s news? Surely it hasn’t been that long ago. Yes, “maybe it’s only yesterday.”

I’m Miles from Nowhere . . . thinking of you and wishing you love and laughter.

joe