When the dream came
I held my breath with my eyes closed
I went insane
Like a smoke ring day when the wind blows
Similar to Dorothy's 'dream' in the aftermath of the Kansas tornado that altered her world, my dreams are some times laced with familiar faces in different roles. The song "On the Way Home" was written by Neil Young and released by Buffalo Springfield a few months after this talented group had disbanded in May 1968. Buffalo Springfield played together for a short two years in a stormy existence. I have previously admitted that Buffalo Springfield's music soothes my soul. I saw them in Memphis just weeks before they 'broke up' on the occasion of my 16th birthday in April 1968. Since then I continue to enjoy the music of their past time together and have watched them move on as individuals into different roles with different bands. The result...more good music.
On a calm, quiet day a smoke ring can maintain its shape and float endlessly through the air. The wind kicks up and the smoke ring quickly loses its identity and scatters about in all directions. Don't know about you, but I need both "smoke ring days" and those when the "wind blows." Differing environs and conditions balance my life. It is the unpredictable nature of the 'wind' that can move the needle from 'normal' to 'crazy.' Yeah, I know that weathermen have been better of late in predicting coming storms, but their warnings are not always in sync with my expectations. Even though you may be aware that a loved one is on death's doorstep, or that a marriage is on the rocks, or that a job is in jeopardy...even then are you seldom fully prepared for the stormy moments of life. Uncertainty fuels insanity. Yet uncertainty is the normal order of things. Change is bound to occur whether or not we desire change. Change is not always better or worse than what was, it is invariably and often simply different.
Now I won't be back til later on
If I do come back at all
But you know me
And I miss you now
In recent months, my hometown of Newport, Arkansas has been under a persistent 'stormy weather' alert. Several sons of this river town have paddled their boats out in front of us and around the bend, no longer in our sight. Those with whom I had personal relationship number more than the imaginable.
I remember...Scooter Coe, husband to long time friend Jan Pratt, brother of dear friend Janie Steen and my childhood pal Joey, and son to treasured family friends, Angela and Joe Coe. I remember...James Logan Morgan, brother to friends Coy and Sammie, and one of Jackson County's most significant historians. I remember...Paul Tinsley, father to classmate Mike Tinsley and dear friend Becky Mooney, and a first class businessman. I remember...Gerald Balch, my friend and former baseball teammate. I remember...David Hout, son of friends Phil and Donna Gene, stepson to friend Ann, brother to fabulous friends Kim Hout Ellis (Godmother to my youngest daughter Elizabeth) and Pam Hout Wallace. When I was a lifeguard at the Newport Country Club in the late '60s, I recall David being one of the 'tadpoles' always hanging around the lifeguard stand. What a fun loving kid! I remember...David Dillinger, childhood friend and son of Ottie who went on to have a long career with the Arkansas State Police. I remember Joe Taylor...a resourceful businessman and a friend to Newport. I remember...Johnny Coffey, long time family friend and brother to dear friend Mary Eaves. I remember Alex Miller...son of friend and teacher Lynette Miller and good pal Al Miller. I remember Joe Nosari, long gone from Newport, but an excellent baseball coach of mine on Newport's ball field in the mid '60s. Joe recently departed this life in Tallahassee, Florida at the end of a distinguished career in service to Florida State University as teacher and administrator.
And I remember Terry "T" Scoggins, loving husband of sweet friend Lee McNew Scoggins, father to Mary Julian Young and Will Scoggins, brother to good friend and T's twin Eddy, and son to admired and respected friends Ann and Ed Scoggins. What can I say? T was one of those friends who basked in the "smoke ring day." His laid back, fun infused approach to life left a lasting impression on all who knew and loved him. We spent much time together as boys and teenagers run amuck. Our days in scouting peaked when Terry and Eddy, Clay Wright and I received our Eagle Scout badges on the same day in June 1968, just a few short weeks after I had watched Buffalo Springfield in concert. That time in my life seems to be as endless in memory as that 'perfect' smoke ring lifting from a campfire on a calm, care free, windless day. I was accompanied "on the way home" to T's funeral service by my daughter Emily. Emily and Mary Julian have been fast friends since their earliest days in Newport together which was interrupted with our family's move to Arkadelphia when the girls were in the third grade. I think their friendship has endured times apart due in large measure to Terry's influence as a parent. Emily shared several sweet memories of Terry on our ride to Newport to celebrate his life. His funeral service was a testament to the influence he had on the lives of many. The intimate St. Paul's Episcopal Church was overflowing with friends of all ages and stages in life. The crowd seemed to grow as we gathered at Walnut Grove Cemetery to share laughter from the past and tears in the present. Toward the end of the graveside farewell, I stood on the fringe of the cemetery boundary alongside cherished friends Carl Cross, Dinny Bullard, Lawson Anderson, Ann Gardner Hearn, and Lee Gardner Elkins overcome with emotion and fond memories. The faces in the crowd reminded me of joyous times together in high school surrounded by friends and knowing that the watchful eyes of caring and loving parents, parents like Ann and Ed Scoggins, were upon us. Looking back, we experienced and enjoyed a life spiked with controlled mischief. Yes, there were those moments when the control element was lost, but those moments remain in a secret file. As I slowly walked away from the cemetery, I encountered and embraced Will Scoggins. Upon his lapel were a couple of scout badges. His father smiled. A light rain began to fall. "On the way home" Terry Scoggins had found shelter from the storm.
In a strange game
I saw myself as you knew me
When the change came
And you had a chance to see through me
Though the other side is just the same
You can tell my dream is real
Because I love you
Can you see me now
During Terry's funeral I saw myself as he knew me, a fun loving teenager surrounded by fun loving friends. As "the change came," and we grew older and more transparent, I 'feel' "just the same." Is my dream real? I believe dreams are realized in our relationships, the everlasting friendships. They live on in our children's relationships, the friendships we have watched them develop. Seeing young friends of Terry Scoggins' children serve as pallbearers at his funeral service and recognizing them as the children of several of my long time friends lifted my spirit. What a day for a day dream!
Carl Cross and I reminisced at some length during our time together at Terry's funeral service. Some of our memories sparked laughter allowing us to briefly escape the somber reality of the moment. Carl shared an emotional coincidence...as he was departing Little Rock in a rental car to drive to Newport that morning, he turned on the satellite radio and unexpectedly heard the intro to Elton John's "Funeral for a Friend." As crazy as that seems, I had a very similar experience on the Saturday before as I was driving to Hot Springs to attend the funeral for another friend, Eddie Tarpley. It was on that drive and while that song was resonating from the airwaves that I received a text message from my daughter Elizabeth informing me of Terry's death. "Funeral for a Friend" is the first track on Elton John's album "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" released in 1973, a time when we were young and foolish. Life is a "strange game."
Though we rush ahead to save our time
We are only what we feel
And I love you
Can you feel it now
I have been in such a frenzy of late that even one of life's greatest joys has gone unreported in the Miles' Files. On October 18, 2011, daughter Emily and her husband Josh Richardson welcomed Annabel Ruth Richardson into the family fold. Grandchild number four for Kathryn and me yields more opportunity for excitement. We love it when one or more of them visit. Oliver is now 5 years old, Claire is 3 years old, Julian is 20 months old, and Annabel is 5 months old. Laughter abounds!
It seems that Kathryn and I have been constantly on the go since I last scribbled upon these pages. I concluded a three year term on the Government Relations Administrative Council for the American Bankers Association with a trip to Washington, DC in September. I always appreciate the opportunity to immerse myself in the historical corners of our nation's Capitol. Kathryn and I followed the DC experience up with a visit to Hawaii in November. We toured Pearl Harbor on Oahu for the first time prior to jumping over to Maui for a banking conference. Then in December we traveled to Dallas for the wedding of Kathryn's niece with ample time to visit with family. In early January we crawled on the Arkansas State University bandwagon for a trip to Mobile, Alabama to watch the Red Wolves play in the GoDaddy.com Bowl. On the way to the bowl game we enjoyed an overnight stay in Tupelo, Mississippi. Had dinner with long time friends Peggy and Charlie Watson and toured the Elvis Presley Birthplace as well as Charlie's private club with pictures galore of 1950's Newport and the "honky tonk" scene. Great friends...great memories! We put icing on the cake with a trip to Memphis in February to see the "Million Dollar Quartet" at the Orpheum. Peggy and Charlie's young friend, Cody Slaughter, made his stage debut as Elvis Presley in this fabulous production. Cody is from Harrison, Arkansas. True to form, Jerry Lee Lewis failed to appear after it was widely anticipated he would be present for the show in Memphis. In his absence, Chuck Mead of the group BR 549, joined the cast for an encore performance of Billy Lee Riley's "Red Hot." It brought down the house in real Rockabilly style and made a Newport boy proud of his "Rock 'n Roll Highway" roots.
In all of this traveling about, I regret that I was not able to witness good friend and Greyhound hero Bill Keedy's induction into the Arkansas Sports Hall of Fame. This recognition is a well deserved honor. I have seen photos from the ceremony and know that several of Bill's 'old' Greyhound classmates and others from Newport were present to celebrate the moment with him and his family. Congratulations Bill Keedy! Go Hounds!
Perhaps the most fun I had over the past few months was sitting alongside Colleen Fortune Thaxton, Ann Dedman Stephenson, and Carroll Hayden as one of the participants at the Jackson County Historical Association's second annual Story Tellers program last October. Being the youngest 'storyteller' on the program, I was in awe of my fellow presenters. Plus I was on 'pins and needles' anxiously awaiting the birth of my granddaughter Annabel, but the storytelling experience was a real treat. Annabel was born two days later. I would encourage everyone to attend the next Story Telling program. I'm certain many of the stories possess some element of truth.
Another Newport experience I want to encourage readers to attend is the Delta Visual Arts Show sponsored by the Blue Bridge Center for the Delta Arts. Last month's event marked the fourth annual show featuring Delta artists, many with Jackson County roots. This year was the second time Kathryn and I have attended and both times we have walked away with selected pieces we found irresistible.
Too often "we rush ahead to save our time." In the haste of that 'rush,' we are sure to lose some magical moments in the process. In effort to match dreams with reality, managing 'the clock' becomes an issue. This time of year, sports enthusiasts find themselves caught up in "March Madness." In the midst of this 'madness,' many basketball coaches are attempting to manage 'the clock' to achieve a win and to realize a dream of a national championship. Failure to effectively manage the remaining time on 'the clock' can spell the end of life in the tournament for their team. As I remember those friends and family members who are no longer at my beck and call, I don't need to remind myself that the time remaining on life's clock is uncertain.
This past Sunday I was touched by a magical moment. I was sitting out of doors reading the morning paper, when my cell phone rang. On answering, my 'old' Methodist Youth Fellowship counselor and long time family friend John Purdy was on the line. He and his son, Rob, were fishing on the White River just upstream from my home. I looked westward and in the bend of the river saw three boats drifting in my direction casting lines toward the rocky bank. John described their location and I was able to determine which boat they were in. I mosied down to an outcropping of rock on the bluff just below my home and about 200 feet above the river to gain a better vantage point and await their getting closer. As they approached, I caught their attention with a wave and John maneuvered their boat to the center of the stream to have a better view of where I was standing. At that moment, Rob hooked a good size cutthroat trout and you could hear John yell all the way up the bluff. The 'special' aspect of this moment is centered in a message I had received two days before from Cherry Lou Smith Johnson reminiscing about our times together and our Methodist Youth Fellowship experiences under the guidance of Rosanna and John Purdy, Susan and Phil McDonald, and Marian and David Hodges. As John and Rob drifted further downstream toward their takeout point at Norfork and in the direction of Newport, I thought of past times among friends. "Now I won't be back til later on, if I do come back at all..."
May Good Health and Happiness be your loyal sidekicks as you float life's meandering streams. May you find the time to tell stories 'round a campfire among friends on "smoke ring days." May you find shelter from the storms. May you bask in your journey "on the way home"...
I'm Miles from Nowhere....guess I'll take my time.....
joe
