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Number of posts: 8
Email address: email
By Donnie Register:
modern bank robbery
After reading some of the articles on wide ranging topics at the Dew – and realizing their small budget – I decided to make a modest contribution. I told their “staff” as much and aimed for my next payday… for the following month. I would mail a check, I said, because I don’t trust debit and credit card info being used on the internet. But something happened. Instead of explaining it to the management of the Dew, I decided it would make a pretty good tale to share. It might benefit somebody else, so here it is.
nipping at my curiosity
Every town has its own history and attractions; some well-known and some not very. Haunted houses, churches and other buildings are always interesting. Court houses and old jails, too. Sometimes small towns are more appealing and accessible than the bigger ones. Fewer people with less interest in what you’re looking for. The locals have sometimes lost interest in their own little treasures; that leaves more room for you and me us to touch, shake and sniff …
By the fourth or fifth grade I knew I wanted to be a school teacher. Before then I had known only women teachers and the thought hadn’t yet taken shape. But after having Mr. Phelps and Mr. Taylor as role models – although nobody was calling them that back then – I was pretty much convinced. They could make English and history seem happy. Besides, I was finally planning to do what had been predicted for me earlier by my kinfolk. I was born a school house; they said I was marked to teach. Predestined, I guess.
The Captain would do it. He’d leave two notes — to his parents and to his wife. He had even thought about the wording but dismissed it. When the time came so would the words. He had tried before but backed out. But this time felt different. Unless something happened he would really do it.
His Colt .45 was in the leather holster on his web belt. He thumbed every round out of the clip except one; put the other seven into the ammo pouch on the belt, and the clip back into the pistol.
killing of jimmy dixon
“First, about the sharecropper,” he had begun “The only few years for which I can say much about it was in the 1940s. It was a tough life at our house. A world of make-do, hand-me-downs, and home-made clothing mom put together on a foot-powered sewing machine. A Mason Rotary that her mom — my grandmother — had owned before she died, when mom was just sixteen.
“Our two mules, Doll and Kate, were coarse and creative, and always unrepentant bullies. And the equipment — plows and cultivators, among other things — were worn-out and unreliable. Then there was the weather…
reality came charging
Jesse and Peetsy had seen them a few weeks before, on a Sunday, in front of the town’s only theater. They had walked by while the boys were checking out the posters in front. It was always closed on Sunday; the preachers had seen to it. The whole town seemed desolate. No one else was even walking around in the two blocks that shared the traffic light. No cars were parked on the streets and only an accidental one would pass through…
how you play the game
It’s been a long time but memorable in the eyes and mind of the then-young man who went to his first baseball game. Some of the small details are foggy. And he’s not exact about the team names. But the important stuff is still there, as if it were yesterday. But let him tell it:
There weren’t many organized sports activities at the grammar school I went to, first thru fourth grades. Ambrose, in Coffee County…
the best medicine
I can’t keep up with the new medications because their names all sound alike. I woke up this morning with a runny nose and phoned my doctor – Dr. Bram – to call in a prescription for me. I thought I had an allergy.
“Runny nose? Does it run clear—or nasty looking?”
“Uh…Clear.” I had a sore throat, too, but didn’t mention it. He’d want me to go by his office so he could charge me.
“Okay, but you don’t need a prescription. Just buy some Allegra: a-l-l-e-g-r-a. It’s OTC.”