On The Way Home

Life as I know it has been a whirlwind since I last found time to talk to myself. I have been in a state reminiscent of the opening scene from the "Wizard of Oz" when Dorothy awakens in a daze to see all sorts of things 'flying' by the open window of her house being tossed around in the eye of a tornado. Dorothy and her little dog, Toto, were 'on the way home' as the tornado was fast approaching. In the chaos, she failed to find shelter from the storm alongside her family and friends.

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

Newport State of Mind

It has been a hot summer in Arkansas, a really hot summer. The heat has a dizzying effect. My thoughts are a scrambled mix of today and yesterday. It may be the heat, but it is more like a 'Newport state of mind.'



Earlier this month I wandered back down stream to Newport for a special occasion...the third annual Newport High School Hall of Fame banquet. The 2011 honorees included my good friend Dr. Jabez Jackson, Jr. (NHS '59), Steve Stephens (NHS '48), David Belva (NHS '79), Billy Warren (NHS '82), and Lt. Lynn Michael Travis (NHS '59). Each of these individuals has left a legacy of good works and career accomplishments that yield a clear reflection of their personal commitments and the influence of family, friends, teachers, coaches, and other mentors prominent in their lives. Also, each of the honorees has left an everlasting mark on the hearts of loved ones and the community of Newport.



I am most fortunate to have been able to attend this year's NHS Hall of Fame banquet as well as the two previous ones. These banquets are indeed a homecoming. Many former classmates of the honorees are in attendance along with townspeople and school leaders. Perhaps the finest acceptance speech I have ever witnessed at such an event was delivered at this year's banquet by my life long friend and NHS Class of 1970 'littermate' Freeman Travis. Freeman represented his sisters Molly Travis McGonigal and Becky Travis McCartney and the family of their brother Lt. Lynn Michael "Mike" Travis who was being honored posthumously. Effectively, Freeman made a few personal comments from the perspective of a younger brother who was only seven years old when his 'big' brother graduated from high school and left home. But then he allowed Mike to 'speak' for himself through a couple of letters written home to their parents at critical times in his life. One came in the aftermath of the Cuban missile crisis when Mike was a Midshipmen at the U. S. Naval Academy and the other came while on deployment in Vietnam just weeks after the birth of his first child, a son he would never meet. Mike lost his life on a reconnaissance flight off the Vietnam coast a short time after he penned the second letter from which Freeman read. The letters spoke with a mature voice, a patriot's voice, laced with care, commitment, and love for family and country. Of course, Freeman's delivery was impeccable. His strong, 'radio voice' and 'spot on' inflection brought 'life' to Mike's words and tears to my eyes. And the Gold Star he wore on his lapel honored his brother's sacrifice. The Doris and Buddy Travis family has been a shining star in Newport's universe for decades and Mike Travis is the first 'real hero' I ever knew.



While sitting at the banquet and listening to the antics of dear friend and emcee John Pennington (NHS '69) in addition to the remembrances of the honorees and those who inducted them into the Hall of Fame, I was captured by this 'magic moment' and lapsed into a Newport state of mind.



Billy Joel wrote a song, "New York State of Mind," in 1976 about a return trip to his 'home town' of New York City after an extended absence. Newport and New York City are similar only in the hearts of 'home town' boys. I listen to Billy Joel's lyrics with a Greyhound (a nice summer drink to beat the heat...a 'salty dog' without the salt) in my hand and the Greyhounds in my heart. The lyrics aren't exactly as he wrote them, but they are what I 'hear'...maybe it's the heat.

Some folks like to get away

Take a holiday from the neighborhood

Hop a flight to Miami Beach

Or to Hollywood

But I'm taking a Greyhound

On the White River Line

I'm in a Newport state of mind

Some folks do "get away" from Newport. Some of those honored as Newport High School Hall of Fame inductees have been recognized for merits made after they got away from 'home' and traveled to bigger cities with brighter prospects, at least 'brighter' in the innocent eyes of a teenager. But one does not have to "get away" in order to take significant strides on life's crooked pathway or to make their marks on the heart of a community. The NHS Hall of Fame certainly recognizes the importance of good leadership returning home. Several of the early inductees into the NHS Hall of Fame returned to Newport after extending their education beyond high school. They have spent their adult lives giving back through time and talent in effort to enhance the quality of life for all in the town...Kaneaster Hodges, Jr. (NHS '56 and NHS HOF 2009), John Mullins (NHS '40 and NHS HOF 2010), John Minor (NHS '52 and NHS HOF 2010), Bill Keedy, Jr. (NHS '63 and NHS HOF 2010), and Jabez Jackson, Jr. (NHS '59 and NHS HOF 2011) are among them. Many who have left the city limits yearn to return to Newport, if just for a short stay. I often get on that imaginary Greyhound bus and travel through time to the Newport of my youth. Back to Billy Joel's thoughts...

I've seen all the movie stars

In their fancy cars and their limousines

Been high in the Rockies under the evergreen

But I know what I'm needing

And I don't want to waste more time

I'm in a Newport state of mind

I certainly haven't rubbed elbows with "all the movie stars" as Billy Joel has, but I have been lucky enough to travel around a bit and fortunate enough to realize that I need the embrace of the home folks from time to time. Reuniting with people who have White River water running in their veins lifts my spirit. On the evening of the Hall of Fame banquet I felt the hugs of many I hold dear. Sissy Hurley Sanborn and Bobbie Hurley Harper were there. Miss Bobbie came in from California and attended the banquet to support her NHS classmate and honoree Steve Stephens. (I always enjoy my conversations with Miss Bobbie and Sissy, mother and aunt of my littermate David Sibley.) Fellow NHS Class of '48 mate Bobby Newell was also in the crowd supporting Steve. Steve was introduced by another classmate, Sonny Burgess, who is sure to join him in the NHS Hall of Fame some day. After all, Sonny is already in the Rockabilly Hall of Fame and the Rock in Roll Hall of Fame of Europe. In accepting the night's honor, Steve Stephens recalled the beginnings of his long radio and television career at KNBY and noted his first interview with Carl Perkins at the Silver Moon.

Several members of the NHS classes of 1959, 1979 and 1982 were in attendance at the banquet cheering on their fellow classmates for honors received. It was a fun evening. Sandra Belva, one of my former teachers at NHS, was beaming with pride as her son, David, accepted the Hall of Fame tag. After a distinguished military career, David currently serves as director of information technology for the Defense Threat Reduction Agency, which is a first line of defense in safeguarding America and our allies from weapons of mass destruction.

Billy Warren is perhaps the finest football running back to ever wear the Orange and Black. Today he is a senior administrator for building operations in Fulton County, Georgia. Billy was introduced by his junior high school coach Stan McKee. Charles Balentine (NHS '81 and NHS HOF 2009), a former Greyhound teammate was in the audience along with Billy's wife and daughter. Cheers for Billy on this night were as joyous as they were on Friday nights in the early 1980's.

Jabez Jackson, Jr. has practiced medicine in Newport for over 35 years and delivered thousands of babies to Newport's playgrounds. He cares about his family, he cares about his patients, he cares about Newport. I served on the Newport School Board with Jabez in the late '80s and early '90s and witnessed his commitment to education. Over the years, Newport has been blessed with many fine doctors. Jabez Jackson, Jr. is among the finest. In his acceptance remarks, Jabez not only gave credence to his family and teachers for his success, but he also heaped accolades upon his peers, the boys he grew up alongside in his Newport neighborhood.

It was so easy living day by day
Out of touch with the rhythm and blues

But now I need a little give and take

The Newport Independent, a bit of daily news

It is really easy to let the "day by day" work routine soak up your time and distance you from the happenings along the Rock 'n Roll Highway where the "rhythm and blues" of our youth plays on in our hearts. The Newport Independent is no longer a 'daily,' but it still brings me the news surrounding the lives of people important to me. Despite the 'good news' like the recent Hall of Fame announcement of honorees, often times my initial instinct is to turn to the obituary page. In recent months, several of my friends have experienced the loss of a parent as I did earlier this year. "To everything there is a season." I remember Elouise Grimes, mother of littermate Jan Grimes Ott; Norma Nelson, mother of littermate Billie Jean Nelson Rice; Lola Mae Baker, mother of littermate Scott Baker; Sonny Bullard, father of littermate Dinny Bullard; James Hopkins, father of littermate Jamie Hopkins Block; Henry Lake, father of littermate Robert Lake; Bette Phillips, mother of friends Bill Phillips (NHS '69) and Mary Lou Phillips Delcase (NHS '72); Jonita Reid Darling (NHS '63), mother of friend Jamie Darling (NHS '90). I also wish to pay respects to Cathren McCartney, a 'forever youngster' and teacher to generations of Newport students who recently dusted her chalkboard erasers for the final time in this life at age 98, and to James Logan Morgan (NHS '58), possibly Jackson County's finest historian, who departed this life in the past week leaving us to discover the mysteries of the past on our own.

I did not have to rely on the Newport Independent to deliver the 'news' of my long time pal and littermate Marion "Cotton" Mullins' death on July 15, just four days prior to his 59th birthday. Coincidentally, I was in Newport for the annual Invitational golf tournament at the Newport Country Club at the time of Marion's sudden death. Such a kind and thoughtful man he was. My heart breaks for his family and his wide circle of friends. The NHS Class of 1970 will sorely miss Marion's presence in our lives, yet he will remain forever in our broken hearts.

I must mention the passing from this life of another man I have never met personally, but I know him through his music. Jerry Leiber died this week at the age of 78 after writing a myriad of iconic songs for my generation. Some of the better known songs he brought to the jukeboxes and the airwaves in collaboration with Mike Stoller are "Kansas City," "On Broadway,", Yakety Yak," "Young Blood," "Hound Dog," and "Stand By Me." I would venture to call "Stand By Me" my personal anthem. Thank you, Jerry Leiber! Godspeed!

It comes down to reality

And it's fine with me 'cause I've let it slide

Don't care if it's Remmel Park or down by the river's side

I don't have any reasons

Cause I've left them all behind

I'm in a Newport state of mind

Did I mention it's been hot in Arkansas this summer? That is the "reality" of the situation. I worked in the yard Saturday and to catch a breather I slipped indoors and tuned in the Little League World Series national championship game between California and Montana on the television. I had been alerted to the determination of the 'little big men' from the Big Sky country of Montana by Jack Payne (NHS '64), a Newport transplant to Montana and fine friend in Facebookland. Facebook is not Newport, but it serves as a fun gathering place for 'old' friends to reminisce, cuss, and discuss the events of the day. Being the baseball fan that I am, I really appreciate Jack scattering the word about the Big Sky Little Leaguers (his grandson plays in the local Billings league). The 'underdog' Montana team lost to the California nine that came to the championship game with some really hot bats. Watching these enthusiastic, young ball players took me back to summers in Newport in the early '60s. To have played on a national stage in the Little League World Series would have been a grand experience at the age of 12, but the times spent on the baseball diamonds with my friends growing up produced a lot of fun memories.

A couple of patient men who coached me on the youth league baseball fields of Newport were among those gathered at the NHS Hall of Fame banquet. I have already mentioned Sonny Burgess' introduction of honoree Steve Stephens. Sonny is not only a top notch Rock 'n Roller, he was a really good ball player. He was often at the ball field volunteering his time to teach the kids the fundamentals of the game when I was a boy. My other former coach present that night is Dale Harrison (NHS '59). Dale introduced the crowd to Mike Travis by remembering their days together as boys. Dale coached baseball in the Newport in the '60s and often called me "Bounce" after he experimented with moving me from second base to third base. As a youngster, my arm wasn't particularly strong and my throws from third to first were often on one hop. I was lucky to have someone like Mickey Doyle playing first base then. Mickey was a good fielder and saved many of my errant throws.

My 'young' baseball buddy, good friend, and littermate Mickey Doyle was present at the NHS Hall of Fame banquet. He was there with his wife, Tinker, in support of honoree Dr. Jabez Jackson, Jr. Tinker works on Jabez's staff. While Mickey and I were visiting, he mentioned our days of playing ball together. Mickey and I made up the right side of the infield (Mickey at first base and I at second) for several Little League and Babe Ruth League teams and played some Legion ball together...from little boys to bigger little boys. But it wasn't the 'organized' ball Mickey was remembering as it was the neighborhood 'pick up' games we played with so many others on the south side of town back when we were 'little boys.'

We had a couple of reliable 'fields' we played upon...vacant lots. The one most often used was in the southern most block of Walnut Street across the alley from my house and next door to littermate Ann Gardner's home. Mickey challenged me to recall the boys who so often joined us in these 'pick up' games. Most times there would only be enough boys to play 6 or 7 on a team, but there were those days when we had enough to field two complete nine man teams with some waiting to get in the game. Those were the days! At the risk of leaving someone out, I will venture to remember some of the 'regular' players in those early days of baseball on South Walnut Street. In addition to Mickey and me, there was Donny Appleton, David Sibley, Jim Reid Holden, Jerry Ashley, Mack Adams, Billy Joe Adams, Buddy Conner, Coy Womble, Doug Lambert, George Rogers, Billy Goss, Bobby Goss, Edward Kinney, Tim McDowell, Bobby Fife, George Causey, Bobby Alcorn, Billy Alcorn, Lee Conditt...Some of these 'boys' are three or so years older than I and some three or so years younger, so all would not have been at the 'sandlot' at the same time. I'm confident I have omitted someone who played 'regularly,' but it is hot outside and I'm a bit dizzy...I'm sure it's the heat, can't be the drink in my hand. If you remember playing ball with the South Walnut Street gang, drop me a line and jog my memory.

Baseball on a hot summer's day...nothing like it. As former major leaguer Roy Campanella once said, "to be good at this game, you gotta have a lot of little boy in you." In recognition of those 'little boys,' California defeated Japan Sunday in the finals of the Little League World Series 2-1.

And I tip my hat to Graham Godfrey, the son of my college gal pal Vicki Gray Godfrey, for climbing the stairway from Little League to the major leagues. Graham made his major league debut earlier this year as a pitcher for the Oakland A's.

Thoughts of Little League past and the dreams of major league play take me to the time when Newport hosted the Regional American Legion tournament in 1961, I think it was 1961. I was a Little Leaguer and 'worked' the tournament as a bat boy. I'm thinking two future major leaguers played in that tournament (or maybe it's just my imagination...or the heat)...I believe Rusty Staub played on the Lousiana team and Phil Gagliano played for the Tennessee team from Memphis.

I appreciate Jack Payne and Mickey Doyle circling the bases with me as we stay in touch with baseball past and present. I invite you to join us on the playgrounds of Facebookland. Facebook really is a fun place to gather and share life's triumphs and trials. Sure there are a few 'goofy' pals who will go on and on griping about something or telling us what they had for breakfast, but you can ignore that banter on Facebook as simply as you did when you were face to face with the same 'goofy' friend at Headlee's Drug Store after the ball game back on those hot summer days in the early '60s.

I'm just taking a Greyhound on the White River Line

'Cause I'm in a Newport state of mind

I'm hanging out by the river just a few miles upstream from my boyhood dreams. I wish to acknowledge the dedication of those men and women serving our nation in the armed forces. It is their sacrifices that have allowed me the freedom to pursue those boyhood dreams. As we stand on the threshold of the tenth anniversary of the September 11, 2001 terrorist attack on U. S. soil, let us remember those who perished that day and all who have had their lives taken from them in valiant effort to preserve the freedoms we enjoy.

I'm in a Newport state of mind........

joe

Mother and Child Reunion

Paul Simon released a song in 1972 that captured the hearts of many listeners and jumped to the top of the Billboard charts. Over the years the meaning behind the lyrics has been the topic of conversation after conversation. Regardless of the circumstances that inspired Simon to pen this popular tune, I suggest the true meaning lies in the heart and mind of each individual subject to its spell.

No I would not give you false hope
On this strange and mournful day
But the mother and child reunion
Is only a motion away

I have been reflecting on my mother’s life during the past few weeks. My mother, Anna Lawana Meacham Miles, passed from this life on February 19, 2011. While that date coincides with my sister Lana’s birthday, I see no coincidence in mother’s death falling on that date. Her death was a gift, her final earthly gift to my sister. I choose to believe that mother’s death effectively gifted life back to Lana. Lana’s devotion to mother in a caretaker’s role during the last seven years restricted her social being. And for those who know Lana, you are well aware of her fun loving, free spirited, friendly approach to life in our social world. As diminished as mother’s mental vitality had become in her struggle with Alzheimer’s, I’m confident she was aware of the different world into which she had gradually moved. It was a place where she did not wish to reside. So she began knocking on Heaven’s door...even pounding at times. Her knocking was persistent and determined. Amidst the noise, God’s doorkeeper finally answered her knock…Reunion!

February 19 was an appropriate day, perhaps a “strange” day, for a “mother and child reunion.” And, yes, it was a “mournful day” for those who knew and loved Mother. Let me share a bit about my mother...

Anna Lawana Meacham Miles was the eighth of fourteen children born to Rossie Belle Rodgers Meacham and Charles Monroe Meacham. Three of her older brothers had died as toddlers sometime after the influenza pandemic of 1918-1920. At the time of her birth on November 25, 1927, Lawana had two older brothers and two older sisters living in the household. The family resided in Cave City, Arkansas; however, mother was born in Oklahoma City, Oklahoma where her father was working a job as a steeplejack. Her name, Lawana, honored a Cherokee mid-wife who assisted with her birth. The Meachams returned to Cave City shortly after mother's arrival. She was the only one of the fourteen Meacham children born outside Arkansas. Now I want to say that some of my ‘facts’ may not be facts at all. I only know some of what I know through the tales of others passed along as folklore.

The Meacham family was Independence County pioneers who had settled in Arkansas territory prior to statehood. They were a determined and loyal lot with my mother seemingly hardwired with these qualities. About the time mother was seven years of age, the family moved to Mississippi County, Arkansas near the small town of Manila. If you have read John Grisham’s novel, “A Painted House,” you can clearly envision the lifestyle of mother’s family in post-Depression northeast Arkansas. Like many others born of this era, mother recognized that a good education could be her ticket to a ‘better life.’ She would be the first in her family to finish high school, but that diploma was not easily earned. Choppin' and pickin' cotton took precedent over school days at times. But she was determined. Lawana Meacham graduated from Manila High School in 1948. She was twenty years old. Interestingly, among the small number of her fellow graduates at Manila was Neal Webster, the father of my Newport High School classmate, Doug Webster.

With high school diploma in hand, she purchased a bus ticket to Newport, Arkansas, where she moved in with her aunt and uncle, Ann Meacham Gray and Dr. Cyrus R. Gray. She started work at Dr. Gray’s Hospital (now Harris Hospital) as a receptionist with designs set on becoming a lab technician. Her ambitions were detoured when she met Vernon “Little Red” Miles, eight years her senior, on a blind double date at the coffee shop in the old Hazel Hotel next door to the hospital. At that initial meeting they did not have a date with each other, but were respectively paired with the other two individuals in the foursome. A phone call following that first meeting led to a formal date…Reunion.

Lawana Meacham and “Little Red” Miles were married on Sunday, May 14, 1950, in the chapel of the First Methodist Church in Searcy, Arkansas. It was Mother’s Day. This union produced three children. I am the eldest of the three. Dr. Jabez Jackson, Sr. delivered me to my parents' care on April 14, 1952. April 14 has been referred to, by some, as “Ruination Day” in its association with two particularly disastrous events, the assassination of President Abraham Lincoln and the sinking of the Titanic. My father used to greet me annually on my birthday with these words, “Son, on this day, Lincoln met a bullet, the Titanic met an iceberg, and I met you…what a day!” I had two younger sisters. Lana was born February 19, 1954 and Ann Marie was born May 17, 1958.

My mother would know the heartache of losing a child, just as her mother had known that same empty feeling. Mother and child…Reunion. My youngest sister, Ann Marie, was born with spina bifida and died only days old. Ann Marie’s funeral remains a vivid and everlasting memory as I accompanied my father and other family members to a quiet graveside service in Center Hill outside Searcy near my dad’s birthplace. My mother was still in the hospital in Newport at Ann Marie’s burial. Mother and child…Separation in body, but always united in spirit. With Mother's every thought of her child...Reunion.

Upon their marriage, my parents moved into a small apartment at 412 Hazel Street in Newport, just two blocks down the street from where mother worked at the hospital and two blocks from one of two service stations my dad managed at the time. These two service stations were a Lion Station located at the corner of Third and Laurel Streets and a Citi Service Station located at the corner of Third and Beech Streets. Mother attended church at First Methodist directly across Third Street from the Lion Station managed by my father. Family, church, and work were neatly bundled up in four square blocks. School would be folded into that neat little bundle of existence when I started first grade at the Walnut Street School with 412 Hazel being just a half block up Fifth Street from the school.

Toward the end of my first grade year in the spring of 1959, we moved from 412 Hazel to 1100 South Main Street in Newport. The first thing I recall Mother doing at the new house was her planting a redbud tree in memory of Ann Marie in the front yard, appropriate I think being as Ann Marie was a redhead. That tree represents a “mother and child reunion” and it flourishes today. Mother would reside at 1100 South Main until moving to Las Vegas to live with my sister, Lana, in the fall of 2003.

Mother had a strong work ethic. She immersed herself in the activities of her children. She took on volunteer leadership positions in the PTA as well as Boy Scouts and Girl Scouts. I read recently that the most influential person in the achievement of Eagle Scout recognition is the scout's mother. I am a testament to that statement. Mother actually went on a camping excursion with our troop as the cooking merit badge counselor to assure that all seeking that merit badge successfully completed the requirements. I must admit that 'earning' a cooking merit badge does not translate into being a good cook. That I am not. But mother warranted me worthy of a passing grade and rewarded me with a merit badge of accomplishment.

Mother was diligent in her volunteer duties with the Newport Service League, Beta Sigma Phi, the Jackson County Historical Society, Portfest, and her church, especially her church. Similar to many other working mothers, she crammed her various volunteer activities into and around her jobs. Despite the inference, mother was not an “all work, no play” person. She genuinely had fun in every endeavor she pursued. Even when the work was of serious nature, she could find joy in its midst. She found personal satisfaction as president of the Newport Service League leading the organization in pursuit of its mission to provide support services for children less privileged. To fund its initiatives, the Service League sponsored the annual Follies, a fun-filled 'vaudeville' show displaying the talent of many Jackson County citizens. I can 'see' her practicing the 'Can-Can' as a member of the Follies' chorus line one year. She loved it!

While it may not have been her first choice for career path, Mother thrived in the retail environment. She had done well in her Home Economics courses in high school and had become a very good seamstress, which may have sparked her interest in fashion. I believe her first retail sales job was at Kent's Dress Shop located on Front Street in Newport and owned by her good friend, Jane Kent. It is likely she took on this job as an avenue to discounts on apparel rather than for a paycheck. Mother was most always 'dressed to the nines.' Her signature appearance was a snappy, tailored look with just the right accessories to capture attention. Her collection of shoes would have rivaled that of Imelda Marcos. While she favored a tailored style, I don't think her personal preference influenced her suggestions to her customers. She was keenly aware of the appropriate attire for any and every occasion. She was a first class salesperson.

Sometime after Jane Kent moved to the gulf coast of southern Mississippi in the mid '60s, Mother went to work at the Eva Graham Shoppe. Later she would work for B & B Ltd., High Strung, Van-Atkins, Ima's, and the Gizmo Shop. Her forty plus years in sales were complimented by a side business of her own.

Mother did business as a wedding and event planner under the most appropriate name of Lawana's Touch. She had a knack for personalizing each reception, but you knew immediately if Lawana had 'touched' it. The hand written notes she left behind offer strong evidence that her planning process was meticulous and her attention to detail sharp. And she possessed tireless energy from the initial visit with a prospective bride to the last dance at the reception. Mother’s creative flair was magical. Her ‘hands on’ approach to the finished setting often astonished me. Seeing her sew tiny dresses for dolls that adorned reception tables to replicate the wedding party intrigued me. Watching her carefully iron table cloths with perfect creases made me tired. She was her own taskmaster.

I have no idea the number of weddings Mother oversaw throughout the years she was in business. But I do know that the 'touch' she brought to the many wedding receptions, rehearsal dinners, church socials, and community events was genuinely appreciated by the participants from the numerous thank you notes, cards, and letters I have uncovered in going through personal belongings in recent weeks.

I can't for the life of me
Remember a sadder day
I know they say let it be
But it just don't work out that way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

In addition to her work a day world, Lawana Miles was a devoted daughter, sister, wife, mother, grandmother, and friend to many. She was loyal to her family and 'worked' to gather them together at annual reunions for many years from the '50s through the mid '80s when my generation of cousins scattered well beyond the boundaries of Arkansas making such gatherings more difficult. Mother 'worked' equally as hard to include Lana's and my friends in every aspect of family. She looked upon our friends as her own and treated them as such. Family and friends were synonymous in our house.

The relationships with family and friends are, indeed, “the course of a lifetime.” Fathers are often looked upon as 'captains of the ship,' but mothers are the navigators. Mothers set the 'course' for most of us and provide guidance as we maneuver the peaks and valleys of the lifetime. Even though it is the natural order of things for a parent to walk off the end of life's pathway ahead of the child, it is heart wrenching to lose sight of them. In those instances when it is the child who runs out of sight of the parent on life’s winding road, it is heart breaking. To “let it be” runs contrary to the ways of the heart. Yet there is a smile among the tears in believing that Mother is in 'reunion' with loved ones who have passed on before her...her husband, her mother, her daughter...in the latter two instances, Mother and Child...Reunion.

Mentioning ‘reunion’ with my father, reminds me of my parents’ relationship. Mother was advised by her uncle, Dr. C. R. Gray, not to marry my dad. The advice was offered due to a congenital heart defect my father had that pointed toward a very short life expectancy. Mother listened, but set her own course. After a stay at Johns Hopkins Hospital in Baltimore in early 1958, my dad returned home with news that the medical staff was of opinion he only had months to live. Mother, with two young children at her side and pregnant with a third, experienced a fragile moment, but proved resilient in the long term. I recall my dad often saying, “I’m not going to die simply because a doctor tells me so.” He lived another 25 years after that verdict at Johns Hopkins. There were challenges with my father’s health throughout my parents 33 years of marriage and Mother proved a steadfast caretaker. I am so very grateful to my sister, Lana, for returning that favor to my mom in her time of need.

I just can't believe it's so
And though it seems strange to say
I never been laid so low
In such a mysterious way
And the course of a lifetime runs
Over and over again

“Over and over again,” generation after generation, mothers set “the course of a lifetime.” Their eyes are trained upon a place “over the rainbow” where the “dreams that you dare to dream really do come true.” Just as “The Wizard of Oz” magically changes from a black and white film into glorious Technicolor, a mother’s dream bursts into the colors of the rainbow when faith, hope, and love collide. Isn’t it ironic that for the rainbow to come into full view, both sunshine and rain are required…smiles and tears. Faith, hope, and love are the key ingredients of a ‘mother and child reunion.’

In setting life’s course, a mother's 'true north' is hope. Hope that her children will know happiness and meet success on life's crooked pathway. Most know from their own experiences that there is no straight path to happiness and success. But most mothers are determined, and hopeful, in establishing that 'straight path,' knowing full well that the curious child is likely to stray. In the end, each generation cuts its own path. Mother certainly made her own way.

“No I would not give you false hope” must be a thought in every mother's mind as she dreams of the future for her children. Even in death I’m sure my mother is clinging to high hopes for Lana, her grandchildren, great grandchildren, and me. She was our biggest fan. Her style, simple yet elegant, will always grace my memory. Her radiant smile will forever illumine my heart.

Oh the mother and child reunion
Is only a moment away

A memorial service in honor and celebration of Mother’s life will be held on Monday, April 18, 2011 in the sanctuary of her beloved First United Methodist Church in Newport, Arkansas. The service (open to all) will begin at 1:00pm with a visitation immediately following in Fellowship Hall at the church. This event will mark Lawana’s final ‘party’ here on Earth. A reunion of her family and friends “is only a moment away.” All who ever knew her ‘touch’ is encouraged to be present. The redbuds and dogwoods are in full flower. “Hope springs eternal.”

Thank you, Mother, for pointing me in a good direction and allowing me to set my own course. You have always been my guiding light…even when I’m Miles from Nowhere.

May magical moments come your way. I wish you love and laughter…lots and lots of laughter!

joe

Precious Time

The year 2010 has come to its end. In these first few weeks of 2011, television anchors have been recounting the significant news stories of the year. Disc jockeys are cueing up the top songs of the year. Critics are preparing lists of the year’s best and worst movies. Newspapers have listings of the year’s notable deaths. It is time to pack up the memories constructed throughout the year and store them away.

Memories are pieces of time stitched together in a patchwork style, much like that of my grandmother’s quilts. There is no real pattern to most of my grandmother’s quilts, just remnants of cloth sewn together to create something useful out of scrap. Some of these old quilts have lost their luster over time. The brightly colored fabric has faded and regular use as bed coverings has yielded tears in the patches with the cotton batting exposed. Yet these old quilts are priceless works of art to me and many 'faded' memories come into brilliant focus when I look at them.

Reflecting on times past is a journey each of us travels alone. Even when we are reminiscing with old friends and reliving old times together, every remembrance has a personal slant. The importance of a single same event experienced by many is measured only from the vantage point of each individual engaged in remembering. And the ‘trigger’ for each recollection of a past moment is unique to the person holding the memory of that particular moment being recalled. Whether a happening from days gone by is considered ‘happy’ or ‘sad’ depends on personal perspective. We spend much time reflecting in the end…the end of a year, the end of school, the end of a job, the end of a love affair, the end of life.

Most often I look back in time through my ears. I’m confident that is true for many of you. A song comes on the radio. It immediately transports you to a distant time, an old familiar place.

It doesn’t matter what route you take
Sooner or later my heart’s gonna break
No rhyme or reason, no master plan
No nirvana, no promised land

I’ve been a Van Morrison fan since I first heard his music in the early ‘60s when he was the lead singer for the group Them. Songs like “Gloria” and “Baby Please Don’t Go” won’t let you forget them. His first solo chart topper, “Brown Eyed Girl,” released in 1967 remains a classic hit today. Van the Man’s songs pierce my heart and move my feet. Time passes freely when listening to Van Morrison’s music…and it passes swiftly. His song “Precious Time” released about a decade ago addresses the realities of living. My foot taps to its beat.

Regardless of the “route you take” on life’s pathway, I’m confident you will encounter love. Along the way, heartaches are sure to occur and even broken hearts will be experienced with “no rhyme or reason” attached. The cause and the cure for matters of the heart are in the same ‘potion.’ That ‘potion’ is love with all of its magical ingredients and its undefined properties reacting in unexplainable ways.

The peaks and valleys of life’s terrain are usually tied to relationships with loved ones and the happenings in their lives. A loved one is happy, your heart pounds with pride and lifts. A loved one experiences disappointment, your heart shakes and sinks. Simple. When one’s heart is broken, hope dissipates, visions of a “promised land” fade. When love repairs the broken heart, faith gains strength, you smile within.

In my life, 2010 was not unlike the other years I have known. In some respects, the twists and turns on the road of life were a bit sharper. Some of the ravines were a little deeper. Laughter and tears occasionally shared the same stage.

Uplifting gests during the year include welcoming a new grandchild into the world and watching his personality shine, moving into a new home and seeing the elation in my wife’s smile (it is her design that has come to life in the construction), having all four of our girls and their families present with us for Christmas (what a gift!), attending the 40th reunion of the Newport High School Class of 1970 with many aging littermates gathered together to celebrate lasting friendships and to remember times past.

Heart breaking moments were centered in the notices received when persons dear to me departed this life. While I like a good martini shaken, not stirred as inspired by the fictional James Bond, I prefer my heart to be stirred, not shaken by life’s events. Some deaths in 2010 shook my heart in seismic scale. Most notably, the passing from this life of my sweet forever friend and littermate Mary Wynne Parker Perryman, my fun loving and ageless Newport neighbor Margaret Van Dyke, and my devoted scout leader and mentor Bob Guthrie truly saddened my soul. My heart hurts for the families of classmate Bobby Ruddell, fun loving friends Edward Kinney and Mike Payne, former teachers Ima Jean Paige and Billy Hobbs, and NHS Class of 1971 pals Mary Lynn Pinkett, Danny Ray, and Calvin Roberts. Just in the last month of 2010, classmates Billy Matthews and John Sink lost their fathers, Mr. Wayne Matthews and Mr. Ralph Ford Sink, in death. And littermate Cherry Lou Smith Johnson’s beloved aunt, Mary Kunkel, departed this life. Mrs. Kunkel worked in the office of Newport High School for many years and was a loyal member of First United Methodist Church. She, along with the late Natalie Madison (mother of good friends Phil and David Madison), were the gatekeepers to the principal’s office during my school years and both served as ‘guardian angels’ for me and many others at church and school during those years.

I ask that you remember these individuals as we strike out into the unknown of future days. I’m sure many of you know of others I have failed to mention whose families need to be held close at heart. When news of Karon Adcox’s (NHS ’68) unexpected death was circulated among dear friends, Mike Dallas (NHS ’66) initiated a memorial guest book for Karon for the posting of condolences and remembrances. Karon’s memorial guest book can be found at www.legacy.com/guestbook/DignityMemorial/guestbook.aspx?n=karon-adcox&pid=146096305. You can also leave personal remembrances for Karon or any other deceased Newport graduate in the Memorial Garden section of the NHS alumni website at www.nhsalumni.net.

Que sera sera, whatever will be
But I keep searching for immortality
She’s so beautiful, but she’s gonna die someday
Everything in life, it just passes away

Our memories remain alive through our conversations whether in person or on network sites like the memorial pages mentioned above. The remembrances expressed by loving hearts among the living are essential elements of “immortality.” As I listen to the lyrics of "Precious Time" on this day I think of my mother and the beautiful person that she is. She has been gently knocking on Heaven's door for several months on end. Heaven's doorkeeper will answer that knock in His own 'precious time.' Yes, "everything in life, it just passes away," but those we love are immortal in our hearts.

Well this world is cruel with its twists and turns
But the fire's still in me and the passion still burns
I'll love her madly til the day I die
Til Hell freezes over, til the rivers run dry

My thoughts resemble one of my grandmother's quilts...no particular pattern...just colorful visages of beautiful people I've known and fascinating places I've seen randomly stitched together in my mind. I'm gathering my thoughts today in the aftermath of the tragic shooting rampage in Arizona at a constituent forum initiated by U. S. Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords and her staff. Six people ranging in age from 9 to 79 lost their lives in a maniacal moment. I knew none of these people, but I think I shared the spirit of freedom with them all. There are those times when "this world is cruel," and this inexplicable instant in time is one of them. Yet this heart-breaking event has not dampened 'the fire' within me that burns with love for my fellow man and the America I call "home." "Home is where the heart is" is an ancient saying that resonates true. I'm sure folks everywhere across this country know the truth in this 'saying' whether they be from Tucson, Arizona or Anywhere, USA. The love that surrounded me as a youngster growing up in Newport, Arkansas influences my heart. Newport and her people inspired a sense of loyalty, provided me a safe haven, enabled me to forgive indiscretions, allowed my own errors in judgment to be forgiven, fostered tolerance amidst intolerable instances. I hold Newport in highest esteem and will "love her madly til the day I die."

A genuine reflection of this Newport 'spirit' can be found in the fictional pages of "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" authored by Newport native Dr. Judson Hout (NHS '53). "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" is a story about a relationship rooted in Jackson County and based on love and respect. For those who grew up in Jackson County in the 1940s, the place names and characters' names referenced in the book will rekindle memories. The experiences depicted ring just as true for those of us who grew up in the area in the 1950s and 1960s. While the Jackson County landscape has seen considerable change over the past 60 to 70 years, the heart and soul of the community remains full. My youngest daughter, Elizabeth, gifted me a copy of "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" at Christmas and I am grateful. Elizabeth really purchased me a ticket for a journey back in time to a place filled with fond memories. I encourage you to grab a copy of the book and take your own journey.

Precious time is slipping away
You know you're only king for a day
It doesn't matter to which God you pray
Because precious time is slipping away

Indeed "precious time is slipping away." In the first few days of this new year, two others, Mildred Holden and Maisie Manning, with whom I enjoyed caring Newport ties, have passed from my line of sight. Mildred is the mother of my childhood friend Carmen Holden (NHS '69) and her brothers Charles and Mike. She and my mother annually celebrated their birthdays together, along with their late friend Margaret Van Dyke, the last week of November each year. What a trio of funny ladies! Maisie is the wife of my former scoutmaster Van Manning and stepmother to friends Susan (NHS '78) and Mark (NHS '75). Maisie had a fun loving attitude true to the spirit of a Razorback cheerleader, which she had been. Both Mildred and Maisie were talented pianists. I'm thinking Heaven's music is being jazzed up a bit since their arrival.

This past weekend I traveled over to Newport to attend a surprise birthday party for long time pal and fraternity brother John Pennington. Friends from far and near gathered at the Depot in downtown Newport to celebrate the occasion. A good time was had by all in attendance. I salute John's wife, Sue, and their children, Lindsay and John Ward, for planning the fun affair and crowning John "king for a day" in honor of his sixtieth birthday. Oh yeah, John's twin brother, Bruce, is also sixty. Boy howdy, this "precious time is slipping away."

Time spent with friends and loved ones is the most "precious time" on the clock's face. With the snow falling outside my window on this cold winter's day, I think I will wrap myself up in a patchwork quilt of memories, relax, and take up "The Ghost of Bud Parrot" for a second reading. I can already feel the smile on my face warming my heart. Enjoy the day!

I'm Miles from Nowhere.... guess I'll take my "precious time"......
joe

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