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
