This Southern Life - Ingenuity at it's Finest

One of the things which sets Suthunahs aside from the rest of the world is the CAN DO spirit. It's the idea that we can do what we want, regardless of convention or accepted standards. If I want to go to town by using my riding lawn mower, then I'll see you on the highway. If I want to wear overalls to dinner, then by golly that's what you'll see. And there's this guy who, for some strange reason, decided that he needed to go camping in the middle of the city in which he lives.



Now, that is not the real interesting part of this photo. The most important part is that although he wanted to camp out, he didn't want to put up with all that humidity. So, he ran a long extension cord and plugged in small air conditioning unit. Positioned up on top of a cooler there at the back of the tent, I can imagine that this good 0l' boy was sleeping soundly - and cooly - all night.

Ingenuity. Makes the South great.

Now wait a min. Let's take a closer look at this picture. I'm also noting that there at the front (?) of the tent is most assuredly a cigarette disposal container like we have in front of our office. What on earth is that doing there? Could it be that this guy borrowed the tent from his sister who asked that he not smoke in the tent? Ok, that's possible, but why not just get an ashtray? or a coffee can? He goes out and gets an expensive container capable of holding several HUNDRED cigarette butts. Now THAT's a nice guy!

No matter how long I live here in the South, I love seeing stuff like this. It proves that the South is just a bit better than the rest of the world.

This Dog Won't Hunt - Hunting from The Marvinator's Perspective.

I have a great respect for hunters. Much as I have a great respect for Fishermen, too. They can do something which, no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to do. Regular readers will remember me writing about my friend, James - The Catman. A better more consistent fisherman does not exist. His wife, Bev, hunts.

Not too long ago, I inherited the perfect hunting rifle from my father in law. It's a 7mm Browning with a fine powerful Bushnell scope. Kept in a padded case, it's a lot like that chain saw I got, in that my testosterone goes up just hefting it. Many years ago I owned a Smith and Wesson hand gun (a dual action semi automatic 9mm with a brushed alumimun look that had 'Bond, James Bond' written all over it's sleek grip!) That experience was very enlightening. There is something inherently macho about owning a gun, or a rifle. But I don't (read: can't) hunt with either one. I took the gun to the range dutifully several times and got to where I could group all my shots the way the professionals say. But get in the out of doors and hunt? No way!

It's not the gun, and it's not the idea of killing defenseless animals that keeps me from being able to put meat on the table. It's talent, or rather, lack there of. I couldn't shoot fish in a barrel. This is even worse of a statement for me when Bev learns that I now own a gorgeous Hunting Rifle and will probably invite me along next deer season. Oh I'm so looking forward to that (NOT). Leaving at Oh-dark-thirty to sit in the cold forest covered in Doe Juice...oh you don't know what doe juice is? Basically, it's DOE URINE or something which SMELLS like Doe Urine and will draw the big bucks to you. Yeah, I just am itching to get out in the woods and be covered in Doe Piss. THAT would really get my targeting skills up. I've seen Bev in action. Or rather, I've seen the fruits of her hunting labors. She dresses in the camo gear, carries a big gun much like the one I have in the closet, and she always comes home ever time with a big buck. I would not do well in her company. Suthun men would look askance at me.

When I was a kid, we spent our summers up on a farm in the Rockies. We stayed with an old friend of my mother's and her husband, Vernon. Vernon was also a consummate hunter. He would sit in one spot for hours waiting for the right shot. I still remember seeing that buck with his eyes shot out -straight through- and Vernon explaining that by taking out the eyes (with a single shot), the deer cannot run as far as easily. In addition, the bust is more usable (to sell to tourists, he wouldn't have one in the house) the skin is entirely without holes and every cut of meat is unblemished, and usable. Not trying to gross you out, just pointing out how he would wait for the shot that would take the deer out and down. No tracking for hours on end through the woods. I can still see that deer hanging in the barn while they skinned it.

Ok, enough of that. I'd like to be a hunter, just like I'd like to be considered a Suthunah. But, let's face it. Until they make a gadget for the big rifle which aims it more accurately than I can, well I guess I'll just carry the chain saw out to the back yard and chop me down a few defenseless trees. Yeahhhhhhhh....

The Suthun Way with Fireworks!

Here it is July 5th. The day after and I'm musing over the celebration last night. I'm not exactly sure why, but there is something which draws the Suthuna to fireworks. Well, I mean, come on, what's not to love? Fire..gunpowder..explosions!

Here in Tennessee, fireworks are legal year round. There are fireworks stores here the size of Walmart. You can pick up a grocery type cart and find near professional grade fireworks on long tables and shelves (hey, is that a freezer section over there?) And because they are so easy to get, fireworks play a big part of every celebration. Wedding Anniversary? Get some Fireworks! Kids Graduation? Get some Fireworks. Sun came up? Get some Fireworks!

The only problem for those of us who DON'T need fireworks for every family gathering is that come Saturday night about midnight is that we can't get to sleep since the neighbors are still shooting off fireworks over our house. Sunday morning, bleary eyed due to loss of sleep, I have to go out and pick burned out bottle rockets and bits of unburned cardboard out of the lawn and out of the pool. This may be one of the reasons I no longer set fire to them myself. That and all the kids have moved out. Not that you need kids to build the excitement.

Many years ago, we had a friend who threw a big party every July 4th. He would rent out the top floor of a hotel in downtown Nashville where a bar had closed several years before. We would all bring our own drinks, someone would provide music and we'd party until the fireworks. Then we'd go out on the big deck while the professionals set off huge explosions that sparkled overhead. After, while the rest of the city fought to get their sleeping children into the car and navigate the traffic jam to get home, we were still partying. We'd usually get a room so that we wouldn't have to drive home after drinking and Sunday morning we'd all have breakfast together.

So, with the remembrance of fireworks overhead from many years past, it really is nice to have big fireworks to watch before bed. Now, if we could just get them all done before midnight.

This Southern Life - Weekly versus Biweekly

I'm considering making this a weekly blog rather than bi-weekly as it has been. I want to keep the quality of the writing high and fear that with other constraints, I won't be able to give it the effort it requires. So, if you're here looking for Wacky Wednesday, just reset your alarm clock to Monday morning.

Love The One You're With

Someone commented recently on my blog. It was posted anonymously (I guess they weren't as proud of it as I am of my blog...but I digress) and the main gist of the comment was "If you hate the South so much, why don't you go back where you came from?" (Don't go looking for the comment, I never let it get published. comments like that don't get published.)

Obviously this person is misreading my posts or I need to be more broad with my humor. (I humbly suggest it's a bit of both!) But let's be sure: I love the South, ok? I love a lot about the South, which is why I try so hard in fitting in. You can't just move into the South and be considered a Southerner (Suthunah). The South is friendly, but it's also a close community. (The 'Good-ol-boy' network is alive and well!) The South is a place, but it's also a frame of mind. It's laid back and it's backward (in a good way). It embraces the new technology without losing it's roots in the past. What's not to love?

What I try to do in my little space on the net, is to draw attention to those few individuals and to those parts of the South that show us the difference between the South and the Rest of the world. The unique ability to look 'You can't do that' in the eye and prove them wrong...usually..mostly...ok, so at least they TRY. (Another of my jokes, did you all get that?) I poke fun at them because I love them. Sort of like the way you poke fun at a sibling, but in reality there's love there. Yes, I do love the South.

But there is also a lot to dislike in the South, or to change in the South. It's hot, humid and the bugs will eat you alive. Bigotry runs rampant even in the 21st Century. (And Bigotry runs both ways!) There's that constant memory of 19th century slavery which cannot (and should not) be forgotten along with a history of violence and a reputation for being backward (in a bad way). It's working for The State where the Governor considers spending $19 Million at his residence for an Underground Ballroom (nicknamed "The Bunker") and hasn't approved a raise for his state employees larger than 3% in the last TEN YEARS. That's not even keeping abreast of the cost of living! If you work for the State (and I do) then your income goes up but your buying power does NOT.

But rather than harp on that, it's much more interesting (and more fun) to see what marvels of invention, what incredible twisted thoughts and skewed foresight the South gives forth. No, I don't hate the South. I hate people who can't take a joke.

Southern Life - Forward thinking...

This picture was taken just a few blocks from my house. It's the front yard of a house which sits on the corner of two streets. I'm taking the photo from the street, looking up along the side of the house, which sits at an angle, facing into the intersection. Built in the early 60's, this is a great neighborhood. You can see that this house has it's own flag pole, and yes....right there in the front yard.....a horse shoe pit.

Now, I've played horseshoes, and I've played that new thing called "ring toss" (or rings, or washers, or something like that) which is similar but with large metal washers in place of the horse shoes. Both games require TWO pits for ease of use. You stand at one end and toss to the other. Looking here you can see this layout with a bit of study.

What caught my attention is the 'Suthun Placement' of the horse shoe pit. Not only is it in the FRONT yard, and on a hill to boot, but it's also placed next to the driveway and you can see Bubba's new Pick-em-up Truck. Is that truck there to catch the stray shoe as it bounces out of the pit? To stop it before it runs amok into the neighbors front lawn killing that yappy little chihuahua that they refuse to pen up?

Now, I hear you. The guy would move the truck to play horse shoes. Ok, but that means that when Bubba here has a party, NO ONE can park in the drive way, because of the guys playing horse shoes. And even with the truck moved, I'm still a bit worried about those windows in the neighbors house. I mean, let's face it, no one in the south plays horse shoes without one hand ahold of a nice cold non-light beer...which would affect one's aim, too I imagine.

I think my house down the street might also be in danger in such cases....

The Suthun Man's Swimming Pool

Here in the south people make do with whatever is handy. If something can be made to do 'double duty' then it's fair game to the owner as to what it can be used for. In this case, a large trash dumpster is remade into a small swimming pool for a couple of suthun kids.

Take special note that this guy went to the expense and time of putting in a pump and filter to keep the water clean. It's even got a tarp to keep out debris and a nice set up of redwood steps for entering the "pool". The fresh freckled faces of the kids seem to say that this 'swimmin hole' is the best.

Which means that it's a darned sight better than this guy did:



For people like this, I think a "No Diving" sign would be not only appropriate, but necessary.

We went the whole route of the above ground pool. Imagine a giant metal cylinder about 24 feet across and 4.5 feet deep. It's lined with a big vinyl liner and the liner looks like tile. (That's to fool everyone and make them think you actually TILED your above ground pool...) The big problem with our pool is that it is surrounded by trees. That means that during the winter the cover gets filled with leaves and water...a terrible combination...which ends up smelling like the hippo enclosure at the zoo which hasn't been cleaned in...ever... Yech.

This last year our cover broke, so all that muck ended up IN the pool. Now, add to that the fact that the pool sprung a leak and I was looking at about 6 inches of water full of muck and green slime in the bottom of my pool this spring.

So, for the last 4 weekends, I've battled against the green algae by running the pump ($$$) and using the chemicals (on credit: $$$) to where it now resembles an above ground POND, light green in color but with a mild chlorine smell almost masking the hippo enclosure stench. It's not bad, really, just not usable. I keep working even after work, and the real problem only comes in a) it's still not usable and b) I keep dropping things into the murky depths and have to go wadding in order to retrieve them.

I've finally got the pool to the point where I can see murky fuzzy blotches of color differences on the bottom and this is a good thing. It gives me hope. Now, if I can only stop dropping things, I'll do fine.