Pensacola, in the late spring of 1960, is an overlooked and undiscovered paradise in Northwestern Florida. Squeaking between hominid toes, as if fresher than sun dried linen; crystalline white powdery sands are confronted by sun sparkling emerald translucent seas, washing ashore in soothing and rhythmic motions. Blowing the smell of sun dried seaweed amongst rustling sea oats; the crisp winds paint ever winding patterns of black shadows upon the brilliant white beaches and dunes.
First place city of the new world, settled by Tristan DE Luna, previously occupied by the Seminoles, who named the city; which, can be translated from the Choctaw dialect as "hair + people". Curious.
Connecting the beaches and the mainland is Escambia Bay which is fed by the Escambia River, finally pouring to the East and the West, along the inter-coastal waterway; and into the Gulf of Mexico. The quartz crystalline sands having eroded from the Appalachians over the millennium; and, deposited as beaches, by the currents and eddies of the gulf.
At the base of the river and the bay is my little Shangri-La. Ten acres carved out of the towering pines, which fostered lumber industries of a century past. The entrance is on us Hwy 98; where and old stone fence, stands at the bottom of a small flight of concrete stairs. The fence curves upward to decorative concrete globes on each end; connected in the middle by foreboding black wrought iron gate. The gate, stands as a a facade; as the stone fence stretches merely 20 feet in either direction of the path; and, anyone can simply walk around the pretentious structure. The stones of the fence stand in stark contrast to the indigenous beauty of the plantation. A path leads downward along pristine oaks, camellias, azaleas, and shady Catawba's to a glimmering creek, which is spanned by a wooden walkway. The path then leads upward to the top of a hill, crowned with a proud and dignified home of antebellum glory. Massive columns present themselves in front of huge doorways, set amongst a porch covered by ceilings 20 feet above. Standing in defiance of hurricane winds and the once ravished and war torn south; it is as if the very arms of atlas are holding together the fortress against all odds; the only thing more massive being the ego inside. Being two to four; Mom and Dad, who lavish love and attention; and, my two brothers and two sisters, Kathleen, Billy, Suzy, and Jerry, who will just as soon sell me to the slave traders. So, I'd say call me Joseph, but my name is David.
Yes, your poor little narrator, brilliant, a prodigy, compassionate, caring, truthful, trustworthy, beyond reproach, and angel, a saint and most of all modest :-).
What terrors will be beset on the innocence of my poor little being? The worst being the cage of psychological terrors, terror inflicted for purposes of control. A prodigy tied as Gulliver; fearful of his own destiny; his own mind. Rewarded and chastised at the same time.
Afraid to communicate curious pulses of insight for fear of humiliation. No one likes a kid who is always right! Especially, when he exposes you as a fraud. Better to keep this thing quiet and brooding... but oh does the truth come out be the actions of fate and the consequences thereof...
One night I am making my way to the kitchen via the living room; and, off to my right I see the most ominous and curious phenomena of my existence. Three luminescent blue orbs circling the dining room table. They are slowly drifting, glowing in the darkness. Upon seeing the orbs, I fall to the floor and I cannot move! The orbs are in a pyramid pattern pointing down. After three revolutions, the orbs stop circling, and slowly advance toward me.
The last thing I remember is laying on the floor; totally unable to move in sheer terror, as these orbs float right over my chest. Next, I awaken in my bed upstairs.
The bedroom is almost as frightening as the living room, since there is a reptile in my closet. I call him the alligator man, but no one believes me. My mother once opens the closet and shows me that he is not there; but, he is there, only at night. I can see him when the closet is open directly in front of my bed. Not only can I see him. I can feel him.
He stands in the closet and stares; while, the more frightened I become; the more energized and sated he becomes. I always ask my brother to close the closet before going to bed, when I have the nerve to sleep in this room.
The alien has a scaly body, webbed hands, stands on two legs; and, he has those serious, cruel, and determined slit like pupils. He never leaves the closet; he just stands there, as if he is feeding upon my fear and youthful life energy. At first I am terrified by the monster; and, I won't sleep without covering my head in the sheets. I hit the bathroom as fast as I can at night and quickly jump back into the bed and the sanctuary of the covers. After a few weeks without incident; I begin to lose my fear of him; until he no longer keeps residence; as far as I am aware.
Unbeknown to me, the alligator man; being of Nephalim origin, one of the progeny of a fallen angel and human wife, is cursed to roam the earth for all eternity. Having been once a giant of great renown in the art of war;
Enlil, now, sits here and watches the four year old, whose presence from the seventh dimension has an unusually strong life force. Those that travel from other dimensions, usually find their way back, but they must go through even tougher initiations and trials than in previous incarnations. Occasionally, one of the dimensional travelers succumbs to darkness; only to repeat the incarnation, until his lessons are learned. The final destination is the same; however, the trials of darkness are filled with torment and suffering. Enlil is to be one of the principalities of the left in the karmic cycle of young Joseph. Such Nephalim spirits can materialize into serpentine form; but usually exist just outside the frequencies of human perception. "...each man's work will become manifest; for the Day will disclose it. It will be revealed with fire and the fire will test what sort of work each has done. If the work which any man has built on the foundation survives, he will receive a reward. If any man's work is burned up, he will suffer loss - though he himself will be saved - but only through fire." (I Corinthians 3:13-15)
As far as the history of the house, there is a story of three beautiful sisters who lived here, whom once lured a young man into the nearby woods; had sex with him and then castrated him on a stump. From the strange artifacts we find; it is an obvious site for ritual. In the late 1950's the house is still quite rural and hidden from society.
At this point, beliefs are fostering. There are some pretty odd things brewing, defying a world of rational parents and vigilant siblings. The orbs are seeding a furtive imagination, while the reptile insures that I am grounded by fear.
My sister Suzy is eight years older me, she already knows that she will be a teacher and marry a doctor, just like dear old dad.
She tries out her skills on me and teaches me to read. Somewhere around the house I find an anthology of Greek legends. I cannot put it down. About this time I am starting to realize that there is something different about me.
I become fascinated with Superman comics. One day, I am upstairs and get Suzy to pin a towel around my neck for a cape. Suzy wonders downstairs. I open the door to my room which sits directly in front of the stairway. I know I can fly. I know that if it does not work, that I am not thinking positive enough. I clear the twenty foot runway and off I go into the space above the stairwell. I land about three quarters of the way down the stairs and tuck my head and roll with the stairs in somersaults until I hit the wall on the bottom. Up, I rebound and as I start to climb the stairs again, my mom comes roaring up the stairwell like a bull seeing red. Uh oh! She grabs me and I do fly all the way back down to
the ground attached to her pissed and clenched hand, wrapped around my arm. Oh boy! Suzy gets an earful too! First she wants to know that I am OK. I answer of course. Many times I have rolled down the stairs in somersaults, only this time I tried from a little higher. Next she tells me to never, never, never try that again. Suzy is told to never, never, never let her eyes off of me. But, gee mom, "I CAN fly."
No one understands. Someday I will fly. Poor mom, she did not deserve this. She was told that if she had any more children after my brother Jerry, that it would most likely kill her. Nonetheless, she has me at 38 years of age in an uncomplicated pregnancy. So, I am unplanned and really not needed. It certainly was not an immaculate conception, because later in life once I tell her that I had not asked to be born. She tells me that if she would have had a pill, that I would not have been. Then she rubs it in by telling me that I am nothing but 5 minutes of pure pleasure. So, here I am stuck with the complexities of the world, just so Mom and Dad can have a little fun. Guess, I'll get back to that mythology book; was it Daedalus who made the wings of wax? Also, I wonder if there might be some kryptonite around. This will explain it. This night as I drift off to sleep, I soar past the rings of Saturn, searching the heavens for home.
Additionally, I have learned to count. As I sit in the grass patch next to my oldest brother Billy's cottage, I watch some mocking birds getting high on china berries. I realize that I have turned too many times clockwise in my life; and, that I need to go 248 revolutions counterclockwise to be even again. Happily, I spin and spin and spin; laughing as
I become dizzy and start mocking the mocking
birds. My, my, my, what a beautiful day! Life is great.
Did I mention the pond? There is a murky brown pond, surrounding its very own island, only a few meters offshore of the glasshouse. Frogs galore. OMG. Where did all these frogs come from? Big ole bullfrogs. Jerry likes to eat frog legs, so he gathers up a crab net and scoops up a whole mess of them frogs. These frogs are like locusts. Actually, I can't sleep this night for all the frogs and critters out there. It's like all of these guys start croaking at the same time; a monotonous cacophony. Then all of the sudden the crickets get to chirping in wavering harmony. A few seconds later and the frogs jump in again--all at once. I give up and give in to the
concert. The old Hunter ceiling fan is grinding away creaky whole note rhythms,
while the high pitched crickets are grinding
away in eighth notes; and, the monotonous bull frogs are in alto, knocking out half notes. I let my mind wander and I can almost hear a melody over the raucous.
On a perfect beat, all the frogs and the crickets stop mid performance. The instant and abrupt silence pounds out throbs of pulsating fear, within the deafening silence; while the atmosphere is so thick that you can hang a needle in thin air. Hairs on our German shepherd, Bea; raise along her spine, as she stares right through the walls; while, starting her low pitched rumble. She is following something. All of the screened windows are open, since it is a hot steamy Florida night. Her intently focused eyes move to the window. And now the dog and I stare at the same space in wonderment at what is not here. We watch the nothing drift over to the closet, as a wave of cool air fills the room.
Next thing I remember is awakening fully under the covers at the foot of the bed. I am completely hidden; and, I am not coming out. I hear my mother calling me from below, but I remain silent. Next, I hear her footsteps coming up the stairs and into the room. She does not see me, as I am so small and wrapped up in the sheets in such a way as to not be noticeable.
She calls my name, worriedly now; and, still I remain silent. About an hour passes and I hear a man clanking around the room. A hand presses down on the bed right by my head as the man looks under the bed. I hear him wondering through our rooms and closets; and, then I hear him make his way downstairs, while saying, "Not up here, ma'am". Now my curiosity is piqued; I get out of the bed and look outside the window facing the pond. Policemen are wandering around the yard! Whatever it is,
I jump back into the bed and retake my position. About fifteen minutes later, my mother enters the room and she walks over to my bed and sits down--on my head. She does not know that she is suffocating me; while these horrendous sobs start pouring out of her, she is sobbing so loudly, "please God, not my baby" "please God." "No
oh oh oh oh oh". Like a sponge I am soaking it up; I too begin to cry. Poor mom. Next, the sheets are ripped from the bed; and, she grabs me up onto her lap, still crying, now joyful tears, hugging me so hard, I am afraid that I might break.
"My baby, my baby, oh thank you God, thank you!" I have never felt more loved or so much like a chameleonic lizard.
This continues, and life is relatively normal for a few months, until this night, when Suzy decides that I need to grow up and stay in my own bed. She locks me out. There is a bathroom between our bedrooms with a sink and an iron claw footed bathtub. I become quite a brat and keep knocking on her door to let me in. The more I knock the angrier she becomes. So, now I am in a dilemma. I can continue to be a spoiled brat; or, I can go and brave the room. I want so bad to be safe and comfortable that the anger on the other side of the door does not matter. I keep pounding and crying like a little baby. The door swings open and I learn that I am a little spoiled brat. I always get whatever I want. It is time that I find out what it is like to not get my way. Boy, am I miserable. This night I sleep in the bathtub- with the lights on!
The following weekend, things are back to normal and I have a safe spot with my big sister; however, she reveals to me a secret that leaves me quite perplexed. She tells me that she is really not my sister; instead, she is a spy from Venus. Her room has wallpaper with red roses imprinted all over. She shows me which rose she pushes to communicate with the home base. Here comes my world tumbling down. Nothing is real. I am so perplexed. All this strange stuff happening and my own sister, is not really my sister and she is on her way back to Venus soon. Oh, my world is getting a little complex. Being a Venetian is OK, but I cannot stand the idea of her going away.
To add to this, dad has noticed my reading and counting skills; he brings me home a new toy. It's a doctor's bag; complete with a new plastic stethoscope and an array of band aids. I'm not much into playing with it; as I like the fun stuff, like bows and arrows and
Davy Crocket coonskin hats. Anyway, I leave the medicine kit outside; he sees it strewn
about in the yard. I can feel his disappointment; while , mom even says something about it. I run around the house and get the bag, bringing it inside to let him watch me play doctor.
Thing is. For some reason, I will not take medicine. I am deathly afraid of needles and shots.
Dad always finds a way to trick me into a shot, but the pills I pretend to swallow and then I spit them out. At the dentist's office, I will not let the doctor give me Novocain -no way. My brat self will not allow the needle, so after much bickering between parents and dentist; they let him go ahead-- without the Novocain. I close my eyes and endure the torture. Somehow, I feel the dentist is really enjoying this.
Dad cannot understand. I do not want any medicine--not even baby aspirin. However; the
miracle drug penicillin saves me from a bought of pneumonia.
The idea of medical procedures makes me very animated and rebellious; why is it that silvery metallic objects strike fear within me upon sight? What nefarious undertakings might be taking place in the missing hours and blurred memories? Why is it that my brother Jerry occupies the same room, but most of the time I do not remember him
being there? So much confusion
One fine day, I wonder down to the creek and find dad standing on the small wooden bridge. He stands there with the most pensive look in his eyes as he gazes downward at the shimmering creek. It is as if all those years of medical training; a stint in WWII; and ten formidable years in private practice were culminating in this moment. I approach him; while following his gaze into the oracle of the waters. Sitting on the bed of the creek are several gelatin capsules, which are beginning to dissolve.
Here he is; casting the wares of his trade upon the waters of life. The excitement within me grows to his level as he explains that the new and improved drug will turn the water in the creek red; and then the pond; and then river; and then the vastness of the oceans. Totally fascinated, we stare at the magic beans until they completely dissolve; and, to his apparent chagrin; the faint color of red washes away completely. I am saddened to see that dad's attempt to turn the world red has faltered I tell him that maybe he has a bad batch. He agrees; we make a pact to try again, with a new batch.
We have two gardens. One was just a cotton patch by the driveway. The other is about a half-acre of new potatoes, tomatoes, snap beans, pole beans, cucumbers and various squash. Lining the middle of the vegetable garden is a row of scuppernong grapes. Why we grow the cotton, I haven't a clue, but mom makes the best preserves from the scuppernongs. Also, we have chickens and roosters, ducks, guineas, peacocks, two German shepherds, Suzy's horse Fargo, and my cat collection. I have 28 of them.
There is a chicken pen, from which I often gather fresh eggs for mom. I'm on my way to the chicken pen, when I notice both of my brothers in the chicken yard, laughing and cutting up. What is it with the chickens? My brothers have discovered a remarkable feat of magic. Jerry shows me. He catches one of the chickens. Then he holds the chicken's beak into the sand. Taking a stick; and, starting right at the chicken's beak, he begins drawing a line in the sand. The chicken becomes cross eyed. When Jerry releases its head; it sits there hypnotized with its beak in the sand not moving; just stuck, staring at the line in the sand.
I am aroused with great delight over this; and, by the afternoon I have chickens pointing in various angles from east to west and north to south. Both of the shepherds are watching intently from behind the fence.
There are about two dozen ducks residing at the pond. All of them are mallards. The males have green heads; while the hens are gray. Whenever, we have stale bread; I make my way down to the pond and cast the bread out there upon the waters, for the ducks. They come
screaming and quacking, while beating heavily with their wings, scuttling from whatever part of the pond they are flocking in. They are so happy to get this stale bread;
and, each one greedily gobbles all the bread they can as quickly as they can before another duck gets it. There is much excitement as they frenzy through the waters, each one swirling counter clockwise and clockwise in place like a compass gone crazy; and, then darting in spurts for the bread.
Now this is important. After feeding the ducks on a regular basis in the same spot; the brim in the pond start gathering here to get the leftover bread that sinks into their habitat. I have this cane pole which I made myself; and, now whenever I put a piece of stale bread on the hook, I can catch as many brim as I want. Yep, all the brim I want, even more than I need.
We also have a duck who thinks he is a chicken. The duck always finds a way to get in the pen and roost with the chickens. Here comes the proud mother chicken; waltzing at the front of the parade of following chicks;
while that baby duck is right in line. Many times I grab the duckling and throw it into the waters of the pond; but, that old duck won't even swim. It scurries across the waters; running on top of the water with its webbed paddles; back to the shore; and, high speed waddles all the way back to the chicken coop.
For some reason I feel for that duck. Why does it feel like I am the duck and that everyone else is like a chicken obtusely focused on lines drawn in the sand? As I am playing in my garden of quartz rocks; a jet airplane crashes the sonic barrier with a loud and resounding boom, sending shock and awe throughout the land.
I really like Mom and Dad's room. They have an air conditioner and brand new Zenith color TV with remote control. I love playing with the remote. It works by sound. You mash the button on the space commander and the knob on the TV turns itself. We all get together for Disney's Wonderful World of Color. Davey Crockett is my favorite movie. I also like the zip pity do dah song with that black man singing while all the birds are flying around. So, I love playing Davey Crocket and singing Zip pity Do Dah.
We're all in the bedroom watching TV, when there is a loud knock at the front door. Dad goes to the door and I peek from behind the bedroom door. It is a policeman and he has a flashlight and a cowboy hat on. Dad talks to the policeman for a while; and, then both of them walk over to the bedroom. An escaped convict has been seen on our property; and, he wants to look around! The policeman looks in my parent's closets and goes through the house. He just wants to make sure that the convict isn't hiding anywhere or had anybody
hostage. The policemen doesn't find him in the house, so he thanks us and goes about his way. We lock the house up good and tight tonight; and, mom and dad get the keys out of their cars. I'm scared, so I stay on the couch in mom and dad's room tonight.
The next night Suzy and I are watching TV, when she explains to me what is happening. She tells me that the evil clown has escaped from prison; and he is a notorious child eater. He likes to eat four year olds just like me. I am feeling so lucky, that he had not gotten in. she decides she wants an apple from the kitchen. I hate going to the kitchen at night. This is where I had seen the blue orbs; and, I am afraid of the dining room at night. She is so persuasive though, that I usually get to the kitchen running as fast as I can and then run back. OK, so it's dark, and
I am getting ready to dash into the kitchen, when the lights come on and a CLOWN jumps on me! Oh the horror. I am screaming at the top of my lungs and this clown is on top of me. I can't move. This evil clown is laughing; and,
I see my oldest brother and Suzy laughing! Why won't they help? Then the clown starts tickling me! The clown jumps off amidst my tears--and it is only my brother Jerry dressed up like a clown. I hate them I hate them all.
I lay on the floor gasping. This is like your worst nightmare coming true.
Jerry is always getting in trouble, he is so bad. Suzy is always laughing at him in front of me for all of his mischievous deeds. He is always coming home with a black eye for fighting. One day he lets a stink bug loose on the bus! Another time they ask him to do the school prayer and he comes up with, "up the wall and down the wall, I hope to God I eat it all!" he's always getting spanked!
Jerry comes running into the house. He's shot himself in the arm with his BB gun. Dad looks at it and he now has a BB in his arm. He gets a big lecture about gun safety and he has to put his gun up in the closet by the fireplace. I run off giggling as he gets whooped!
Everybody's in school; and, it's just me, mom, and the maid who are home today; except for a plumber, who is working on a ladder by the side of the house. I'm Davey Crocket today, and I try talking to him.
Nothing happens.
"Hello"
Nothing happens.
"Hi, I am Davey, who are you."
And the man ignores me completely, after trying to get his attention for quite long enough. I remember the BB gun. I go and find the gun in the closet, but I don't have any
BBs. I search and search all over the carpet and I finally find one BB. Now in Davey Crockett style, I am ready. I take position behind the man.
"Hey mister, if you don't talk to me, I am going to shoot you!" still nothing, so I fire! Missed!
I run back into the house and finally I find another BB. I regain my position.
I told you, I am going to shoot you, if you don't say something to me!" still he ignores me; and, this time when I shoot, I hit him right on the butt! He yells "ouch", as he quickly grabs the right side of his butt, comes down the ladder, doesn't even look at me, and goes and gets mom. There, that ought to teach him.
Now mom isn't real happy and she comes out there and snatches that gun from me and locks it up with a key. At dinner I get to hear mom tell dad the story.
"The plumber came to the door. He told me that Joseph wanted to talk to him, but that he didn't pay any attention to him, so Davey shot him in the ass! Next he tells me, "Ma'am I don't know your son, but I can tell you one thing, if he ever wants to talk to me in the future, I am damned sure going to say hello." And everybody starts laughing; and, I slide by.
Dad has this ford station wagon; and, he takes us out on adventures. Today, he is taking us to the beach. The wind is blowing everything in the yard around. There is a hurricane in the gulf. We get to go right out to the beach. On the way we get to drive over the bay, which has waves in it as large as they usually are on the beach. I can't keep my eyes out of the windows. The signs on the bridge are shaking back and forth. Everybody is really excited. We pass the bridge to the beach and we don't have to pay a toll, because the man is gone. When we get to the beach, there's nobody there; and, dad drives past the city part to the good part, where you can walk right out to the beach. The sky is gray and black. When we get out of the car, the sound of those waves and the wind is so strong, you can't hear anything else. We get out of the wagon by pushing hard against the wind. Then we have to fight that wind to get to the top of the sand dunes where we see the waves coming all the way to our feet. These waves are higher than our house.
You have never seen anything like this. These big waves come rolling over across the beach; and, the water comes shooting up the beach; and, then it runs all the way back to the foot of another big wave. These waves sound just like thunder at your feet; while the wind almost pushes you over, while howling in your ears. We are out there. The rain hits us so hard that we have to run back to the wagon. I love the storm and hate to leave. The next day, we go back out there and find all kinds of sea shells, just sitting up on the beach. We also find a sea cucumber, which is just like a cucumber, but it grows in the ocean. Mom really likes driftwood and she is happy to find so much.
I turn 5 this summer. Dad likes investing in oil wells, so we get to go to Mississippi and Louisiana, so, dad can inspect his oil wells that he got from the wheeler dealers. Jerry and I love to get fireworks, cherry bombs, TNTs, bottle rockets, and lots of firecrackers. I am too young for the cherry bombs, but I get to light firecrackers when I am with Jerry. we get back from the trip; and, we are sitting here on a picnic table; each with our bagful of treasures.
Jerry is laying on top of the table and I am sitting on the end. I light one of my firecrackers; and, somehow I drop it--and it lands in Jerry's bag! boy, I have never seen a clown jump off a table so fast; as all the bottle rockets start fizzing off into the air; while the firecrackers unravel themselves and explode everywhere; and, a whole box of cherry bombs goes off--in a big bang--a huge barroom! I was able to save my bag.
Then there are my cats. There was this one wild cat that stayed in the barn. We have a whole milk dispenser, like they have in restaurants, for all the kids. Every day, I fill up a bowl and take it up to the barn for the cat. The cat is very scared of me, so I am extra careful not to spook it. Finally, that cat becomes tame; and, starts coming all the way to the house for milk. We find some
kittens, so I name my cat momma cat. Then the kittens start having kittens, so momma cat ends up being great, great, great grandma cat; and, at the height of my collection-- have 28 cats! When we first moved into the house, the window in the kitchen is at ground level; and these herds of rats would run by. Now that we have the cats, the rats have vanished.
My favorite cat I name Rainbow, because she has all the colors of a rainbow. also, I have Blackey, Whitey, Yeller, Orangatang, who is an orange tabby, Prancer, Dancer, Rudolf, Greybeard, Lionus, Wilbur, Scat, Sugar, Leopard, Indigo, Midnight, Summer, Nessy, Spudnik, Albino, Reno, Wolfy, Sneaky, Lightning, Fire, Thunder, and Boss Cat. Boss Cat is the male, who is the king of all the other cats. Also, there are wild dogs in the area. Sometimes they pack up and run through the yard. Usually when this happens, Jerry or
Billy will pop them with their BB guns and they will run back into the woods. I hate seeing the dogs shot, but I am told that it doesn't really hurt them because they are BBs. One day I wake up to some really bad news. The wild dogs have come through and they got a whole bunch of my cats. My brothers will not let me see; and, they do the grizzly work of burying my poor cats. They got Rainbow; and, I am told that she was ripped to shreds and left hanging in an azalea bush. It happened again and they got Boss Cat. I'm sure boss cat put up quite a fight, probably protecting the other cats. So, now I only have about half of my cats, but great, great. great grandma cat is OK and Orangatang is the new king. First we had rats, then we had cats, and then we have wild dogs, I wish that they would start using 22s on those mean old dogs now.
And another catastrophe. Suzy has a
parakeet. I'm feeding the cats by the door to the kitchen. They are all lapping their milk; and, when I open the screen door, old Grandmamma Cat slips in. I run as fast as I can to catch her, but how was I to know that Tweety was flying loose in the living room?
Now the cat is in the living room, me right behind her; and, that parakeet does the dumbest thing I have ever seen. The bird swoops down as if wanting to be friends with mama cat. Grandmamma Cat leaps about four feet in the air; and, puts one claw in Tweety's neck; and, now Tweety is dead. Oh. Suzy cries and cries; and, so do I. there is nothing I can do to make it better and I hang my head in guilt for days. Mean old cat. Poor little bird. Poor Suzy. Poor me. We bury Tweety in a shoe box.
Another thing about Olympus here, is all
the snakes! I hate snakes; and, I am talking about cotton-mouthed, copper headed, rattle tailed coral snakes! One day I am coming down the path from the highway and a huge moccasin lays coiled up right in front of me. I run back up the hill and start screaming and screaming to no avail. No one hears me, but the shepherds. They start jumping against the door like crazy. Mom lets them out and they run all the way down the hill and up to where I am, saving me.
Another time, I am walking up by the chicken coop, when my brothers Billy and Jerry warn me that two moccasins are in front of where I am walking. I look down to the ground and I can see no snakes there! I know these jokers now. Surely, they are just playing another joke on me. I shrug it off and keep walking. Then I look to my left and about two feet away, a snake comes into focus slithering along with me. When I look to the right another is sliding ever so craftily another two feet away. Surely, the serpents must be aware, but they slither on as if I am just another snake. This little brotherhood of snakes welcomes me; while, my own brothers let me walk right up between
These two cottonmouths; and, once again they have a great laugh at my expense as I hightail it out of there.
Another day, I am standing in front of the house, by the pond, when I see an white car stop the side of the road above. Two men get out; one has a large map sized paper; he starts pointing around our property; while the other guy holds the paper, as they both study our property. About three months later, all of the boys are doing yard work on the south side of the property. Suzy rides down to the site,informing us that they are planning to build a new college in town; and, that they want to use our land for it. We wonder if they are going to call it Penscola University, or PU. They are taking the property by eminent domain. My parents fight this to no avail.
Even though my Uncle Charles is the Mayor of Pensacola; the battle is fruitless. This is when I learn that you cannot sue the government. I am heartbroken, as we all are; but this theft of our property, turns me into an iconoclast. We buy a house over by Pensacola Country Club, in a neighborhood called Star Lake. If you were to string lights around the lake, it would look like a five pointed star, from an airplane, with the uppermost point tilted East and then 15 degrees South. There is a small channel leading to Escambia Bay.
When we move, I have to leave all of my leftover cats. I am not happy; but, I have no choice. I get to bring Orangatang, the dominant male. Within a week, Orangatang owns Warrington. One day, I see him chasing
another cat so hard, that when the other cat runs past a pine tree; Orangatang runs 20 feet up and down the tree, as the other cat is still running. This cat is a fighter ; all the neighbors love him. Our neighbor, Mrs. Evans loves cats; I guess she feeds my orange cat well, because I rarely see him anymore. Orangatang is a country cat, once the king of many cats. The city cats are no match for him, as he conquers his new terrain.
