Friday, December 13, 2013
Our best Christmas ever was painted by a runaway white and black “Commander” setter that Carl Duffield Jr. gave me. His name was “Nip”. Carl and I had a long, hilarious friendship that began when he brought George Evans to Frobisher one August. He made fun of my boots and I made fun of his hat. And, occasionally of his shags. I was especially fond of Nip, who ran off every time Carl ran him. Nothing that Lonnie Tuck or Carl’s pro polisher John Francis Brown could think of would corral Nip. Only occasionally would he point, and never would it be the release quail at the Texas Championship. Nip preferred wild quail exclusively, and he went every which away to look for them. Carl was through with the “big ol’ mass of flag” when I began to cater to him. I started with raw weenies, and after a while, I slipped him a chicken liver or gizzard. He definitely got to know who “Bill” was and would cock his ears forward when he heard my name, and then, my voice. I’m pretty sure it was at Palestine in those red clay arroyos where the main attraction was Tiny Wahoo and Dr. P. T. Kilman with Texas’ Ernest Allen and Roy Maroney dragging Tiny around the course for him that Carl got really mad while both of us were under the influence. “You so dam SMART,” he growled, “YOU run him an hour. If you finish him under judgment, you can HAVE him!!! I’ll sign him over to you.” Well I did. And he did. Not without a lot of help. Lonnie never was better. John Francis used his pickup deftly, as never before…and I have never mentioned Roy and Ernest as complicit…until now. You can guess at the motives, and there is no imagination to encompass that wild hour of delight. No game contact that we KNEW of, but I picked Nip up under judgment. Now what was I going to do with a bolting setter in the wilds of the Chattahoochee National Forest, where I lived and hunted grouse; where my best “home dogs” were a three-legged Brittany spaniel and a miniature Poodle? Clem was the Brittany and he was arsenic on grouse. Jacque was the perfect dead bird finder and retriever. Except for a gunshy pointer bitch I hunted over on the Gillis lands in the Ocmulgee valley, Jacque was the nonpareil retriever I ever saw. Sadly, we never had a Lab. Anyway the Christmas story began when Nip and Jacque adopted one another. I was plumb silly about taking wild bird dogs in the house, and that is where this slashing setter and the black poodle made up hide and seek games and wallowed together. I took Nip quail hunting one time when Lake Chatuge almost dried up and went away one November. He was gone a long time, and Clem found him and backed him on a nine bird covey. If he had not found those birds, we may not have ever seen him again. He was as handsome as his grandsire, Commander’s Hightone Beau, tail rigid and flag follicles waving everywhere. It was the best I had ever seen Nip. Jacque, a natural backer, (and smarter than any of us) looked on almost diffidently, but went to work, beating Clem and Nip to the two birds we shot. It was the beginning of Christmas week that year when a large pack of dogs following a female July hound in season came close enough to our mountaintop to attract Nip’s attention. He was in his pen that morning, but he was not at the supper dish. The next morning, Jacque was gone, obviously in search of him. Clem and Sam the Beagle were immediately chaperoned and hawkeyed constantly. Neither had ever been leashed except for post-puppy training, “whoa-sit-heel-stay”. Our mountaintop was near the north Towns County line. It was about 300 yards steeply down to U.S. 76 that led out of the county north, and back south through Hiawassee to the head of the lake where Nip had found his quail—about four miles away with either a long two-lane bridge to cross in traffic, or another three miles of still-to-market macadam through sparse settlement. For three days, the pack of dogs were seen all over this part of the county. The pack contained huge “warbeard” and “German Poh-leece” males and others numbering about 18. We saw the pack twice, two days apart and at sites two miles apart. U.S. 76 was heavily traveled by 18-wheelers, bound for Knoxville, Asheville, Chattanooga and the Greenville mill country. Less than a minute elapsed, day or night between rigs. After a week of No Jacque (He was the most important non-human in the Galaxy to Betts, her Mom Lucy, Mike, Keith, Vic and me) gloom descended. And Nip, whose reputation and past proclivities did not bode well for a return under the best of circumstances, was also heavy on my mind. A scattering of snow—just enough to cover some of the leaves— was exciting to others, but not to our home. We had not heard of a sighting in a day and a half. We scoured the countryside without unearthing a hint or clue. Christmas even night, not sipping, but gulping eggnog (with lots of “nog”) I was mournful and tearful in my chair backed against the door no one EVER used except in summertime. The television was wall-to-wall carols. Perry Como, Bing, Rosemary Clooney… Then a skretch…scrahhtrch…rattle… The door was moving against the latch-hole…skeeeereatch! I remember now how I had chills all over me, and how I was shaking all over when I opened that rarely used portal. It was stuck at the top. I SNATCHED at the knob, twisted and…and… There, his head encased in cockleburrs, his chin on the doorsill, paw improbably reaching to scratch again…was Jacque! I blubbered and shouted and Betts said I screamed “like a pig impaled”. I rolled around with my black burden on the front porch, laughing and crying and four other people trying to take him away from me…and I bumped into Nip, poor, bedraggled, soiled Nip, who was also there, returned. Neither of the animals could walk normally. How they made it from the foot of our mountain up to the porch I could not divine. Jacque’s hind legs were caught and trapped against his chest and forelegs by burrs and briars. He just relaxed and lapsed into immobility until we freed him, with many scissor cuts and electric clipper prods and strokes. Then when we could see our Jacque as a mere wraith of his past presence, it was Nip’s turn. It was easier to liberate him. He was not so strapped and unable to ambulate. He lost a lot of flair and flag. We fed them and they went to sleep pretty soon. We sang, toasted, then gave solemn thanks for what we then declare that up until then, was the Christmas of all Christmases. Maybe in a lifetime one has one such celebration of deliverance, answered prayer, unaccountable fortune and undeserved, surprising Joy. Two things I have thought about now for nearly 50 years. Who was the “leader” that found the way “Home”??? Nip was larger, stronger, and had proven stamina. But Jacque gave a primary clue to the answer when he limped and dragged his frail, hungry, exhausted body to make noise at the only door where he could have possibly been heard on Christmas Eve.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
Wednesday, November 27, 2013
The dog poem that made Johnny Carson cry . Plucked from the TV archives: Watch as actor Jimmy Stewart shares a poem about his beloved dog, Beau. By Michael Graham Richard Fri, May 10 2013 at 12:56 PM 48 Jimmy Stewart (left) reads his poem on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson Jimmy Stewart (left) reads his poem about his dog, Beau, on 'The Tonight Show' in 1981. (Photo: johnnycarson/YouTube) Back in 1981, legendary actor James “Jimmy” Stewart, the star of “It's a Wonderful Life” and too many other classics to list here, went on “The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson” to share his hobby: poetry. The piece that he read was titled "I’ll Never Forget a Dog Named Beau" about Stewart’s golden retriever. At first, the poem made Johnny and the audience laugh, but it had a very different effect in the end. Describing it can’t do it justice; it’s something you have to see — and feel — for yourself, so check out the video and read the text below. Here’s the text of the poem: He never came to me when I would call Unless I had a tennis ball, Or he felt like it, But mostly he didn't come at all. When he was young He never learned to heel Or sit or stay, He did things his way. Discipline was not his bag But when you were with him things sure didn't drag. He'd dig up a rosebush just to spite me, And when I'd grab him, he'd turn and bite me. He bit lots of folks from day to day, The delivery boy was his favorite prey. The gas man wouldn't read our meter, He said we owned a real man-eater. He set the house on fire But the story's long to tell. Suffice it to say that he survived And the house survived as well. On the evening walks, and Gloria took him, He was always first out the door. The Old One and I brought up the rear Because our bones were sore. He would charge up the street with Mom hanging on, What a beautiful pair they were! And if it was still light and the tourists were out, They created a bit of a stir. But every once in a while, he would stop in his tracks And with a frown on his face look around. It was just to make sure that the Old One was there And would follow him where he was bound. We are early-to-bedders at our house -- I guess I'm the first to retire. And as I'd leave the room he'd look at me And get up from his place by the fire. He knew where the tennis balls were upstairs, And I'd give him one for a while. He would push it under the bed with his nose And I'd fish it out with a smile. And before very long He'd tire of the ball And be asleep in his corner In no time at all. And there were nights when I'd feel him Climb upon our bed And lie between us, And I'd pat his head. And there were nights when I'd feel this stare And I'd wake up and he'd be sitting there And I reach out my hand and stroke his hair. And sometimes I'd feel him sigh and I think I know the reason why. He would wake up at night And he would have this fear Of the dark, of life, of lots of things, And he'd be glad to have me near. And now he's dead. And there are nights when I think I feel him Climb upon our bed and lie between us, And I pat his head. And there are nights when I think I feel that stare And I reach out my hand to stroke his hair, But he's not there. Oh, how I wish that wasn't so, I'll always love a dog named Beau. ********************************************** A book titled “Why We Love the Dogs We Do: How to Find the Dog That Matches Your Personality” published in 2000 contains some information on what happened to Beau, Stewart’s beloved dog. Sadly, the poem isn’t fiction. Wikipedia summarizes it: “While shooting a movie in Arizona, Stewart received a phone call from Dr. Keagy, his veterinarian, who informed him that Beau was terminally ill, and that Gloria sought his permission to perform euthanasia. Stewart declined to give a reply over the phone, and told Keagy to ‘keep him alive and I'll be there.’ Stewart requested several days' leave, which allowed him to spend some time with Beau before granting the doctor permission to euthanize the sick dog. Following the procedure, Stewart sat in his car for ten minutes to clear his eyes of tears. Stewart later remembered: ‘After [Beau] died there were a lot of nights when I was certain that I could feel him get into bed beside me and I would reach out and pat his head. The feeling was so real that I wrote a poem about it and how much it hurt to realize that he wasn’t going to be there any more.’” I’m sure all you dog lovers out there know exactly how that must have felt.
Monday, November 25, 2013
Tuesday, November 5, 2013
Saturday, November 2, 2013
OCTOBER 2013 Rita Moreno Chris Rock Acceptance Speech
Tuesday, October 29, 2013
On Monday October 28th we went to John & Stephanie's home for a gathering called The Gender Reveal Among Family and Friends we were informed that the new baby due in April 2014 will be a Boy ! It was a fun gathering and shared the Surprising news together when the big box was opened by Stephanie, John and Lyla when a Huge Bouquet of BLUE Balloons ascended over their home. Joyful Noise and Laughter among Tears of joy.
Sunday, October 20, 2013
One of the most successful British Invasion bands of the Sixties, The Dave Clark Five topped the UK charts in 1965 with their iconic pop song Glad All Over. Thundering production set the DC5 apart. Their slick melodic sensibility masked their boom factor: The DC5 were the loudest group in the U.K. until the advent of The Who. Drummer, songwriter and manager Dave Clark provided a perfect foundation for Mike Smiths soulful vocals. Reaching the Top Forty 17 times in just three years, with more appearances on the Ed Sullivan show than the Beatles or the Rolling Stones, the DC5 were an enormous pop phenomenon before disbanding in 1970. The Dave Clark Five have sold more than 50 million records worldwide to date. http://rockhall.com/inductees/the-dav...
Teenager Ethan Metzger tells the Bronx Youth Poetry Slam what he responded when told his parents brainwashed him. The first Annual Bronx Youth Poetry Slam, a competition at which poets read or recite original work, took place in May 2013 at the Kingsbridge Library in the Bronx, NY. It was curated by Community Board 8 Youth Committee Chairman Lamont Parker and 'Advocate of Wordz'. "Ethan Metzger did not advance to the second round, but this poem was my favorite one from the evening," said 'Advocate Of Wordz'.
Wednesday, October 16, 2013
WEDNESDAY Oct 16, 2013 Fox & Friends this AM http://video.foxnews.com/v/2746871892001/obamas-political-rhetoric-normal-or-nuts/
Tuesday, September 24, 2013
Sunday Sept 22, 2013 Anthony's Pizza & Pasta Atlanta Blues Challenge Abe Lincoln and the Log Lawyers perform at the Atlanta Blues Challenge, September 22, 2013. L-R: Logan Brammer - guitar, Jonathan Yaeger - drums, and Dashiell Wakeman - bass. Michael Allen
If you look closely as the camera pans left at about 1:45 to 2:00 minutes in you will see yours truly ! For me, it was an experience of a Lifetime. Michael Allen
Saturday, August 10, 2013
http://youtu.be/XHPZBXYHmyg Eugene Talmadge was elected to a third term in 1946, but died before taking office. Ellis Arnall, governor at the time, claimed the office, as did Lieutenant Governor Melvin E. Thompson. The state legislature chose Eugene Talmadge's son, Herman Talmadge, to be governor, but the state supreme court declared this unconstitutional and declared Thompson rightful governor, and Talmadge stepped down after 67 days. Talmadge later defeated Thompson in a special election. Bill Allen was a newspaper reporter and covered this story and all matters from the State Capitol. He became a speech writer for Ellis Arnall. While remaining friends with M.E. Thompson and Herman Talmadge.
Sunday, August 4, 2013
John H. Allen Officer with The Alpharetta Police Department is now the Community Affairs Officer He is in charge of the National Night Out August 6th 3013 this year in Alpharetta. He is doing a series of PR pieces for the Community and Promoting this big event. https://www.facebook.com/AlpharettaPublicSafety NATIONAL NIGHT OUT National Night Out will be at Wills Park Equestrian Center on August 6th 2013 from 6pm-9pm. We will be uniting with Milton Police Department again to provide a fun filled evening. We will have free food that was donated by Target, Costco, Chick-Fil-A and Dairy Queen. There will be exciting demonstrations from your local public safety members and many vehicles on display. Bring your friends and family it will be a great time for everyone. https://sphotos-a-mia.xx.fbcdn.net/hphotos-prn1/p480x480/17750_623394757700050_1328514404_n.jpg
Sunday, May 26, 2013
by David Greenfield SULTAN KNISH I wish I had written this ! This Blog Linked From Here The Web This Blog Linked From Here The Web Saturday, May 25, 2013 The Warrior's Tale Posted by Daniel Greenfield @ the Sultan Knish blog 14 Comments The warrior's tale is a simple enough thing. Strong as steel, but fragile as chance. It is the wind in his soul and the wall we build around ourselves to tell us who we are. Before there were cities or nations, and railways and airports, computers and telephones-- the tale was told around campfires. Acted out in pantomime, dressed up in animal furs and cave paintings. But the tale was the same. The people were confronted with a threat and they called upon the best and strongest of their men to go out and fight it. These were their warriors. What they did in the face of that threat is the tale. The tale has many variations. Sometimes there are many warriors, sometimes only a handful. They march into the village of the enemy in triumph, or they make a last stand on a rocky outcropping, spending the last of their heart's blood to buy time they will never know. There is the weak man who becomes strong, the strong man who becomes weak, the woman who mourns the man who will never return, and the man who goes off to battle with nothing to lose. These tales have been told countless times in the ages of men, and they will be told again for as long as men endure. It is not only the warriors who need the tale, or those left behind. Future generation learn who they are from this tale. "We are the people who died for this land," is the unseen moral of each tale. "We bled for it. Now it is yours to bleed and die for." The warrior's tale tells each generation that they stand on the wall against a hostile world. And that the wall is made not of stones, but of their virtues. Their courage, their integrity and their craft. Theirs is the wall and they are the wall-- and if they should fail, then it will fail. And the land and the people will be swept away. What happens to a people who forget the warrior's tale and stop telling it around their campfires? Worse , what of a people who are taught to despise the figure of the warrior and what he represents? They will not lose their courage, not all of it. But they will lose the direction of that courage. It will become a sudden unexplained virtue that rises to them out of the depths of danger. And their wall will fail. It is the warrior's tale that makes walls. That says this is the land that we have fought for, and we will go on fighting for it. It is sacrifice that makes mere possession sacrosanct. It is blood that turns right to duty. It is the seal that is above law, deeper still to heritage. Anyone can hold a thing, but it is sacrifice that elevates it beyond possessiveness. And it is that tale which elevates a people from possessors of a land, to the people of the land. Universalism discards the warrior's tale as abomination. A division in the family of man. Their tale is of an unselfish world where there are no more divisions or distinctions. Where everyone is the same in their own way. But this tale is a myth, a religious idea perverted into totalitarian politics. It is a promise that cannot be kept and a poison disguised with dollops of sugar. It lures the people into tearing down their wall and driving out their warriors. And what follows is what always does when there is no wall. The invaders come, the women scream, the children are taken captive and the men sit with folded hands and drugged smiles dreaming of a better world. The warrior's tale explains why we fight in terms of our own history. The Great Swamp Fight. The Shot Heard Round the World. The Battle of New Orleans. Gettysburg, San Juan Hill, Belleau Wood, Pearl Harbor, Heartbreak Ridge, the Tet Offensive, Kandahar, and Fallujah. Generations of sacrifices must be defended. And those who wage war on us must be made to pay. Universalism demands that war must answer to universal aims and objectives. That there is a universal law higher than war. But this is a children's story. The laws of men derive from their own interests. Those who can rule by force or coalition make their laws to serve their own ends. This is the way of the world. Those who pretend to live by universalism will still fall to the law of steel. Rhetoric is no defense against fire and lead, and international codes have no defense against those who will break them. The talk may go on, but it is the warriors who will end it. It is still the warrior's tale to tell, even if all others have forgotten it. The warrior's tale is no happy thing. It is bitter as bile and dark as death. But it is also a grand and glorious thing. For even in its full naked truth, it is the story of perseverance in the face of every agony and betrayal. It is the tale of how we live and why we die. Even when all others forget their tale, the warriors remember. Even when they are called peacekeepers and turned into an army of clowns for the satisfaction of their political masters. The armies may decay, but warriors still remain in their cracks, on their edges-- men who are not wanted, but are needed because they are the only ones who can do the grim work and do it well. They may only be a hundredth of an army, or a thousandth. A fraction of a fraction. But without them there is no army, only empty uniforms. When the warrior's tale is forgotten, then they become shadows. Dangerous men despised and feared. Thought of as killers, dismissed as monsters and stared at like beasts in a cage. But the society cannot deny them. It cannot deny that part of them. When the warrior diminishes, the energy is directed elsewhere. Sport becomes an obsession and matches end in bloody violence. Crime increases. Prisons fill up. So do police forces. As the external war fades, the internal one begins. Barbarians come from without. Buildings burn, mobs rage and there is a savagery in the air. No law can protect a society that has forgotten the warrior's tale. It will turn outward, and adopt the warriors tales of outsiders. The samurai will replace the cowboy. The sports star will be an outsider. Its heroes will become foreigners. Men who will do understand the virtue of violence and will do what their own have been forbidden. Who have the vital energy that a society without a warrior's tale lacks. When a people give up their own warrior's tale for that of others, they lose the ability to resist them. For each people's warrior's tale says that we are people, and they are enemies. We are warriors and they are murderers. When a people have no other warrior's tale but that of their enemies, they will come to believe that they are monsters. And that their enemies are brave warriors. The day will come when they are asked who they are, and they will not know. They will point to their possessions and the names of their streets and cities. They will speak of higher ideals and cringe for not living up to them. They will be asked why they fight, and they will say that they do not want to fight. That all they want is peace at any price. Even the most powerful of civilizations with the mightiest of cities becomes prey when it forgets the warrior's tale. It takes more than weapons to defend a city, it demands the knowledge of the rightness of their use. It is no use dressing men in uniforms and arming them, if they are not taught the warrior's tale. And it is nearly as little use, sending them off to watch and keep, if the men above them discard the warrior's tale as violent and primitive gibberish. An army of millions is worth little, without the warrior's tale. Strategy is technique, firepower is capacity, both begin and end with the human mind. "Why do we fight," is the question that the warrior's tale answers far better than any politician could. "We fight because this is ours. It is our honor, our duty and our war. We have been fighting for hundreds and thousands of years. This is what makes us who we are." We are the people, says the warrior's tale. But we are every people, says the universalist's tale. All is one. There is no difference between us and them. And we will prove it by bringing them here. Then the walls fall and it falls to the warriors to make their last stand. To tell another warrior's tale with their lives. This is the quiet war between the philosopher merchants who want trade and empire, and the warriors who know that they will be called upon to secure the empire, and then die fighting the enemy at home. It is how the long tale that begins with campfires and ends with burning cities goes. The story that begins with cave paintings and ends with YouTube videos. Whose pen is iron, lead and steel. And whose ink is always blood. We have been here before. Told and retold the old stories. The forest, the swamp, the hill and the valley. And behind them the lie, the maneuver and the betrayal. The war that becomes unreasoning and the people who forget why they fight. And one by one the warriors slip away. Some to the long sleep in the desert. Others to secluded green places. And still others into the forgetfulness of a people's memory. The hole in the heart of a people who forget themselves and become nothing.
Monday, May 20, 2013
http://soa.li/ESUK5ZE Judge Jeanine Pirro RIPS the Obama administration in another fantastic monologue "My Mom could do a better job!" Judge Jeanine Pirro gave another fantastic monologue tonight, ripping the Obama administration for everything from Benghazi to the AP phone records. Published on May 11, 2013 FACT - Collected FACTS -- A Lie is a Lie is a Lie Rep Elijah Cummings (D-MD): Death Is Part Of Life! Benghazi Whistleblowers Explosive Testimony Stuns At Hearing Judge Jeanine Pirro - Obama Admin Lied To America!!- Opening Statement -Benghazi They Denied, People Died See Link Bellow Col David Hunt & Formal Navy Seal Christopher Mark Heben Weigh On Military Assets Around Benghazi Libya! Benghazi Attack Timeline Could Help Have Saved American Lives? - Judge Jeanine Pirro http://youtu.be/-548jVAYxNk Judge Jeanine Pirro, who attended this week's Congressional hearing on Benghazi, says the testimony she witnessed proved President Obama and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton are liars
Monday, April 29, 2013
April 27. 2012 go to this website for original article = http://www.examiner.com/article/review-harmonica-blowout-at-darwin-s-april-27 Below Copied article Pasted here + Related topics •Atlanta blues •Live Music •atlanta live music •Darwin's •harmonica •Music . Saturday night Darwin's Blues Club in Marietta hosted a tremendous Harmonica Blowout, with some of the greatest harp players in the Atlanta area: Carlos Capote, Maurice Nazarro, Stoney Brooks, Joe Lee Bush, Jeff Baker, and Jon Liebman. We only got to hear the first four but that is enough for me to tell you that it was beyond great. The Cazanovas started things out, featuring Maurice Nazarro on harp. In fact, while Maurice handled hosting duties, Danny Vinson, Jacob Holiday and Theron Peterson of The Cazanovas played with Carlos Capote and Stoney Brooks as well, and they never even seemed to get a little bit tired. I have decided that Danny Vinson is my pick for best lead guitar player in a blues band in Atlanta, and Jacob Holliday is not only one of the best bass players but the most fun to watch! View slideshow: Harmonica Blowout at Darwin's April 27, 2013 Then Joe Lee Bush took the stage. He represented the more traditional blues harmonica player extremely well, and did a cool magic trick with some dollar bills, too! . Maurice Nazarro and Danny Vinson of The Cazanovas at Darwin's in Marietta Photo credit: Takesi (Ken) Akamatsu . . Mr. Bush was followed by Stoney Brooks, who played some exciting sounds and got the crowd dancing. Then Carlos Capote took the stage. He, Danny, Jacob and Theron really electrified the place and got the dancers in a frenzy in the tiny space there was for dancing. By that time, it was nearing midnight and we had to leave. Jeff Baker was just taking the stage and I would have stayed if I could have. I'm sure things got even hotter with Baker, Liebman and then the jam. I'll say again what I've said before: when you see that Darwin's is having a special event with more than one act, get out there. You're guaranteed to have a good time!
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Sunday, March 24, 2013
Friday, March 22, 2013
Tuesday, March 19, 2013
Tuesday, March 12, 2013
ROCKY BALBOA Inspirational ********************************************** Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it. You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done! Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody! Cowards do that and that ain't you! You're better than that!
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
The Facebook posting below dated March 3rd 2013 was postede by my friend and Scouting Volunteer Cathy Gilland. Cathy Davis G In the last two weeks, I have been to 3 Funeral/Memorial Services! Each one as emotional as the first..alll fellow Scouters I have worked with over the last 25 years. I say good bye to Bill Cassen, Joe Latona (both in there 60's) and yesterday I said good bye to my sweet friend Jim Greewisch.(in his 80's)... I went to his Memorial Service yesterday, a wonderful sweet man whom the Pastor referred to as a man who (in the Navy)Servered...served His God, his country, his fellow man, Veterans, his family, his boys in all there activities including over 40 years serving in the BoyScouts of America...his church, , ...I could go on but there was a bunch of veterans at the service...at the end of the service during Amazing Grace, one man accross the isle from me in a wheel chair, Hand Saluted, as tears ran down his cheek! Out side where they gathered, I thanked them for their service...to their country, and the man in the chair..... I hugged! All of these men who passed away are with the Lord, Godly men who made a major impact on my two sons growing up without there Dad....... Each one of them ...and there are so many others still with us, gave of themselves to help make a positive infulence on the boys that looked up to them as Scoutmasters, Asst. Scoutmasters, and Leaders who guided them in healthy, Godly living...to help others, put God, Country first and themselves last! Thank you from the bottom of my heart.................and for those who have gone, I will see you again! &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Linda N Richie Vedsted --- Well said. And you gt me crying, again. I hope I get to see you besides at a funeral sometime, ok? &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Cathy Davis G --- Let me get to feelin better and will make a play date! &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Kristi McDowell Scallin ---- And you will see them again. Lots of love!!! &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Maruta Mang --- Very nice tribute. &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& Michael R. Allen --- Thank you, Cathy. Your expressions here were Perfect. We were and are truly Blessed to have lived among and served such men. &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& ****************************************************************************************************************************************** JOE LATONA - ******************************************************************************************************************************************* JIM GRIEWISCH Michael Allen & Jimmy Griewisch February 2011 - Markham Park , Florida Scoutmasters Camporee 2011 &&&&&&&&&& ********** Joe Latona OBITUARY Joseph "Joe" Latona Obituary Latona, Joseph "Joe", was raised in Cheektowaga, NY (a suburb of Buffalo, NY). He moved to Florida in 1970 after completing his Master of Science in Education. After teaching Industrial Arts at Piper High School, he transitioned into the insurance industry where he completed his career as Senior Vice President - Risk Consulting with Lockton Companies, Inc. The Latona family has lived in Jacksonville and Pensacola before settling in Plantation, FL in 1980. As a registered Certified Safety Professional (CSP) and Certified Hazard Control Manager (CHCM), Joe traveled extensively both domestically and internationally. Locally, he was selected to be the insurance and safety director of the Dade County Metro-Rail Rapid Transit Project in 1980. He also worked for Sedgwick James, Inc. and Marsh & McLennan Companies handling risk control and claims for the insurance companies. In 1998, Joe was awarded the Distinguished Service to Safety Award from the National Safety Council for his many years of service helping organizations improve safety in their workplace. A lifelong Scouter, Joe raised two Eagle Scouts and was an Assistant Scout Master with Troop 111 at Plantation United Methodist Church. He earned the prestigious Silver Beaver award in 1995, the year following his tenure as Chief of the South Florida Council's Scoutmaster Camporee where he was responsible for moving the annual event from Holiday Park to Markham Park (where it is still held today). Joe is survived by his loving wife, Joanne Paschke; his son, Jason Philip; and grandson, Jonathan Patrick of Coconut Creek; his son, Justin Powell of Fort Lauderdale; his parents, John Matthew and Irene Schultz of Oakland Park; and his uncle, Vincent Alphonso Latona of Depew, NY. Memorial services are planned for Saturday, March 2 at 2 p.m. at Plantation United Methodist Church located at 1001 NW 70th Avenue in Plantation, FL. In lieu of flowers, donations are appreciated on behalf of Joe to Boy Scout Troop 111 - please send c/o Plantation United Methodist Church at address above. Funeral arrangements by TM Ralph Funeral Home (954-587-6888). &&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&& ********************* Jim Griewisch OBITUARY James Louis Griewisch Griewisch, James Louis, 87, Plantation, FL, departed this life February 12, 2013. He was born January 10, 1926 to Alfred H. and Selma P Griewisch in Milwaukee, WI. He attended Steuben Junior High, Boys Tech, and U of WI at Milwaukee. In WWII, he served in the Mediterranean and European Theater with the US Navy and for his part with the Normandy Invasion Forces, he received the French Legion of Honor Award. He enjoyed over 60 happy years from a marriage to Eileen Bronk, May 31, 1952. He was employed by Harnischfeger Corp. as a diesel engineer in Port Washington, WI and Crystal Lake, IL. With the State of FL Department of Transportation, he spent over 32 years in traffic study and design. Jim was an active member of the Trinity Lutheran Church, holding multiple offices in the church and school. As a member of Lutheran Education Society, he was a vital force in the establishment of Lutheran High School of South Florida. Jim was involved in the scouting program for over 70 years from the age of 8 Sea Scout in WI to Boy Scouts of America in FL. In recognition of his contribution to scouting, especially in pioneering and leadership skills, He received the Silver Beaver and Lamb Awards. He was Scoutmaster Camporee Chief in 1978 and attended several National Scout Jamborees serving on arena show staff. As an active Veterans of Foreign Wars member, Jim has served as local and District Chaplain for over 15 years, deriving great pleasure helping returning combat veterans ease back into an active personal life in their community. He is a member of Post 2500, Hollywood, FL. Jim is survived by his wife, Eileen Griewisch; sons, Jeff Griewisch of Ft. Lauderdale and Carl Griewisch (Kathy) Banner Elk, NC; granddaughter, Kate Griewisch, Madagascar; and grandson, Kyle Griewisch, Salisbury, NC. His brother, Alfred E. Griewisch, predeceased him as prisoner of war in Germany. Fred Hunter Funeral Home is in charge of arrangements. A memorial service will be held at 2 p.m., March 3, at Trinity Lutheran Church, 11 SW 11th St., Ft Lauderdale. A burial at So. Florida National Cemetery, Lake Worth, FL will be held at a later date. Memorials for Jim can be made to Trinity Lutheran Church or Veterans of Foreign Wars Buddy Poppy Program.
Monday, March 4, 2013
Saturday, February 23, 2013
Little G Weevil – The Teaser 2.22.13 Chip Eagle | Feb 21, 2013 | Comments 0 If You Enjoyed This Article Please Share It With Your Friends, Thank You! 14 0 0 16 For The Best Video Links In The Blues Follow Us On Twitter! Little G Weevil The Teaser Apic Records BluesWax Rating: 7.5 out of 10 A Great Story and a Great CD Here is a storyline that clearly illustrates the power of blues music: You take a teenage drummer into heavy metal and living in Budapest, Hungary. Then you add an older brother and a John Lee Hooker album that knocks the youthful headbanger’s world off its axis. Soon he is hard at work learning his way around a guitar and eventually begins playing gigs throughout Europe. But Gabor Szucs can’t shake the feeling that something is missing from his version of the blues, so in 2004 he moved to Memphis where his persistence was rewarded with steady gigs and growing acclaim under his stage name, Little G Weevil. And now all of Little G’s sacrifices and hard work were rewarded when he was named the winner in the Solo/Duo category at 2013 International Blues Challenge. While the judges for the Blues Foundation’s competition selected Weevil as the top performer, anyone who had listened to The Teaser already knew that he is a formidable talent as a singer, guitarist, and songwriter. Recorded in Atlanta, the all-original program has Little G backed by a band on eight tracks and performing solo on the other four cuts. He utilizes a Fibenare Jazz electric guitar, plays slide on a Bacon Fat cigar box guitar and handles the solo material on a 1940 Kay Archtop guitar. The band includes Bill Burke on bass, Bob Page on piano and organ, Maurice Nazzaro on harmonica, and John V. McKnight on drums and percussion. When you listen to the solo tracks, you can hear several of Little G’s influences. There is a touch of Lightnin’ Hopkins on “Dad’s Story,” with Weevil’s guitar picking weaving around the insistent rhythm from his tapping foot. “Back Porch” and “Losing Cool” are infused with Hooker’s boogie spirit brought to life by Weevil’s primal vocals. His slide lays down a hypnotic pattern on the joyous, gospel-tinged “Which Way Shall I Go.” Weevil’s guitar trades licks with blasts from Nazzaro’s harp on “Real Men Don’t Dance.” then his thick-toned voice belts a warning to women on the title track, fleshed out with cutting slide phrases on the cigar box guitar. The band sets up a slinky groove on “Big City Life” and Weevil’s guitar spits a gripping solo. “Highway 78” works thanks to a swaggering beat and more of Nazzaro’s fine blowing. “8:47” finds the leader in a defiant mood, manifested in his aggressive guitar playing. Two other highlights occur when the pace slows down to a simmer. Little G delivers his most expressive vocal on “She Use to Call Me Sugar,” and Page, who consistently delights throughout the disc, articulates the song’s anguish on his piano keyboard. “Apple Picker” finds Weevil firing off licks with a burning intensity on another slow-paced lament. It all adds up to a fine recording that served notice that Little G Weevil was a talent to be reckoned with. Now that he has received validation with his selection as the winner of the IBC, you can count on hearing more from Little G Weevil in the near future. In the meantime, grab a copy of this one and enjoy some great blues! Mark Thompson is a contributing writer at BluesWax. Buy this CD The Teaser Little G Weevil (Audi… $12.49 . Filed Under: BluesWax Weekly • Featured • This Week's BluesWax • Weekly CD Reviews
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
The content here is from my sweet cousin, Janie Pierce Kiekl - in Texas Please remember when we put something on the table we are trying with all we are to make it good - it really hurts when it doesn't work out just right ! We feel we let our loved ones down - acceptance helps to show love returned ! Burned Biscuits - A lesson we all should learn. When I was a kid, my Mom liked to make breakfast food for dinner every now and then. I remember one night in particular when she had made breakfast after a long, hard day at work. On that evening so long ago, my Mom placed a plate of eggs, sausage and extremely burned biscuits in front of my dad. I remember waiting to see if anyone noticed! All my dad did was reach for his biscuit, smile at my Mom and ask me how my day was at school. I don't remember what I told him that night, but I do remember watching him smear butter and jelly on that ugly burned biscuit. He ate every bite of that thing...never made a face nor uttered a word about it! When I got up from the table that evening, I remember hearing my Mom apologize to my dad for burning the biscuits. And I'll never forget what he said, "Honey, I love burned biscuits every now and then." Later that night, I went to kiss Daddy good night and I asked him if he really liked his biscuits burned. He wrapped me in his arms and said, "Your Mom put in a hard day at work today and she's real tired. And besides--a little burned biscuit never hurt anyone!" As I've grown older, I've thought about that many times. Life is full of imperfect things and imperfect people. I'm not the best at hardly anything, and I forget birthdays and anniversaries just like everyone else. But what I've learned over the years is that learning to accept each other's faults and choosing to celebrate each other’s differences is one of the most important keys to creating a healthy, growing, and lasting relationship. And that's my prayer for you today...that you will learn to take the good, the bad, and the ugly parts of your life and lay them at the feet of God. Because in the end, He's the only One who will be able to give you a relationship where a burnt biscuit isn't a deal-breaker! We could extend this to any relationship. In fact, understanding is the base of any relationship, be it a husband-wife or parent-child or friendship! "Don't put the key to your happiness in someone else's pocket--keep it in your own." So, please pass me a biscuit, and yes, the burned one will do just fine. And PLEASE pass this along to someone who has enriched your life--I just did! Be kinder than necessary because everyone you meet is fighting some kind of battle. Personal NOTE: I believe that everyone you meet, anywhere is dealing with some problem, fighting some battle or needs a friend.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Monday, February 11, 2013
Saturday, February 9, 2013
Friday, February 8, 2013
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Monday, February 4, 2013
Sunday Night 2/3, 2013 Facebook Little G Weevil Dear Friends, i want to thank you all for all the support and love. It`s been a long journey from Hungary and i could not have done it without my family. I need to address that. All you kind people in Atlanta, Memphis and Alabama - you have always been supportive and made me fee like i belong. I will be forever grateful. Thank you Atlanta Blues Society and everyone from ATL for the outstanding support during IBC. We did this together and i was proud to represent you. You were freaking crazy fantastic. I appreciate you so much. My shout out goes to my dear dear friends the excellent blues band from Atlanta the Cazanovas. In my opinion this band is a road ready band with serious kick ass blues on their plate. To me they made it, too and those who saw them performing would agree 100%. Thanks again everyone 2013 IBC solo top prize goes to Hungary - Atlanta - Alabama and God knows where else.... :-) Love y`all. Like · · 9 hours ago near Atlanta, GA · 160 Likes 33 Comments mra 2/4/2013
Sunday, February 3, 2013
News29th International Blues Challenge Winners Crowned The Blues Foundation's 29th International Blues Challenge concluded Saturday with an afternoon twin bill at the Orpheum Theatre. The solo/duo winner was: Little G Weevil, sponsored by Atlanta Blues Society SECOND Place honors went to the Suitcase Brothers a from the Barcelona Blues Society in Spain. The top prize in the Band competition was awarded to the Selwyn Birchwood Band of the Suncoast Blues Society. Second place honors were earned by Michael van Merwyk and Bluesoul, German Blues Network, and the third spot went to Dan Treanor's Afrosippi Band w/ Erica Brown, hailing from the Colorado Blues Society. A beautiful custom Gibson ES-335 guitar featuring The Blues Foundation's logo and a Category 5 amp was awarded to Selwyn Birchwood as the band finals top guitarist. In the Best Self-Produced CD contest, the judges determined the best to be : Montreal Blues Society Solo Recordings Steve Hill Blues societies all over the world will soon be starting all over again as they begin their own competitions to determine who they will send to the 30th International Blues Challenge, the finals of which will be staged February 1, 2014.
Great Week of Blues from Bands and Solo/Duo Act from around the world !!! The Cazanavas from Atlanta ( Sponsored by Charlotte Blues Society ) Little G Weevil - Atlanta Blues Society The Georgi9a Flood - Atlanta Blues Society - ( McDonough, GA ) Links and info here to follow
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
www.blues.org Memphis, TN The 29th International Blues Challenge is set to begin Tuesday, January 29, 2013 and conclude on Saturday February 2, 2013. The competition will be held in Memphis, TN in the Beale Street entertainment district. We will post the schedule of who plays where by noon Wednesday. Tickets are available online NOW , at the New Daisy Theater Tuesday at the FedEx International Showcase or at Ugly Juanita's on Beale Street beginning Wednesday at noon. I am registered at the Rodeway Inn Linden Ave 2 miles from Beale Street.