DUKE: Part IV (final)

Let's review for a moment: I returned to my home state in May, 1988, having lived and worked in Florida for 24 years. While visiting in Alabam the year before, I purchased acreage next door to where I grew up. I had to purchase more acreage than I wanted in order to get the frontage I desired. In June, 1988 I employed a builder to construct my house. (My brother and his wife, who lived on the "home place" next door let me stay with them until I moved into my own new house on last day of Septeber, 1988, It was not completely finished but enough so it was livable. All the time, Duke watched every move the builders and I made...he didn't miss anything. He liked living in the country and enjoyed being outdoors during the day, but was indoor dog at night. Duke continued to dislike the policeman (See prior blog) who was a friend of my brother but since we no longer stayed at my brother's house, I don't think Duke ever saw this man again, who, by the way, was a very nice person. One day when I was checking out at a local builder's supply store, the cashier said to another employee who was standing nearby: "Did you see what that dog did out there in that Dodge Ram truck? He blew the horn." "I said, yes, he wants to go" (Again, I think he was swatting at a bee or something that had gotten into the cab. It was now hot, the windows were down at the truck was not air conditioned, but I let people believe what they wanted to) Well, so much for Duke blowing the horn. Later, in the Summer, when it got real hot, two dogs from the neighborhood (Princess and Jake) would come about 10:00 am in the morning and Duke would escort them down the hill to a creek. One day, I followed them in order to see exactly what was going on. Well, they were having the biggest time you can ever imagine running up and down the creek chasing each other. It was very amusing to watch them play and cool off in the creek......they kept this up all Summer until it got colder. (Several years later, I learned that Princess had been adopted and was no a house dog, and I could not find out what happed to Jake who was larger and of a mixed breed. A couple of yers later, Duke became ill. I took him to the local Vet. After much testing and trying different medications, the Vet told me that Duke had prostate cancer and was not responding to any medications, and he felt I should not be spending more money on him. So, sadly it came to the point I had to have Duke put to sleep as he was suffering so. I will never forget that moment when the Vet took him into another room. I did not look back for I knew if I did I would squall. I thought, well, I will never find another Rhodesian Ridgeway that would bd as fine as Duke, so the time being I put it aside................However, later, I saw an ad in the Birmingham paper where a couple living about 45 miles away had one to give away to a nice home. So, I called them, and on a Sunday I had an appointment when they returned from church. I did see the dog that was in an outdoor pen with another dog of some sort, but its hair did not look healthy to me. However, I decided I would wait for their return form church services......but they never came back, and finally I had to leave. (Later, I wondered if that dog was ill and they were just looking for somebody to care for it in its final days; who knows?) So, I stopped looking for another Rhodesian Ridgeway, aka African Lion Hound. Oddly, I too, several years later was diagnosed with prostate cancer and went on Lupron Depot injections for several years. Later, my PSA readings remained so very low, the dr and I decided to stay off the injections...that now as 2 or 3 years ago. My PSA remains low but slowly increasing. I have it checked twice a year. It may be in the future I will have to go back on the injections. (I tell you all of this for so many men have this problem and may find it of interest) But in June, 2004, something happended when I returned home from the grocery store being the first time to drive after having 4 bypasses. Yes, I closed my retail store in Oneonta, called "Eureka Shop" opened in 1994, at the end of this October...may reopen at another location, if able and with help, in early March 2014. I wanted to finish my Duke story tonight as I will be admitted to a Bham hospital, for the 4th time this year, tomorrow but it is a same day procedure but the surgeon told me he would keep me for a day or so for observation, etc. It is a drainage problem from prior surgery in Oct of this year.........so, hopefully, I will be back with you soon and tell you what unexpected event occured in June 2004 when I returned from the local grocery storey. Bye, now, Fred.

DUKE: Part III

Woooooo hold on here a minute: I recall there were three other things involving Duke before I moved back to Alabama in May of 1988 tht I have not told you about. So, here goes: (1) One day I was out in my front yard and a man came running across the street from a house over there, saying he was visiting from Tallahssee and he was surprised to see a Rhodesian Ridgeback there in Lake City. He told me he had a female Rhodesian that he wanted to get bred so he was greatly disappointed when he learned Duke had been neutered in his doghood. We exchanged some dog stories about our dogs. By the way, since I don't have a pictue to post, if you will go to Google...click on Image...and type in Rhodesian Ridgeback look at the nicest one and that is what Duke looked like. (2) Now, for the second event that happened before I moved back to Alabama: I made several trips hauling "stuff" back to Alabama in my Dodge Ram and one time I decided instead of going up I-75, I would go West on I-10 and take US-231 northward, after all that highway went directly through my countryside. After going several miles, I came to a rest area, so I pulled in, got a candy bar and a cold drink and stood not far from the truck consuming it. Near me, a tourist had the hood of his vehicle raised and another tourist was trying tohelp him find out what his trouble was. All of a sudden, the latter said to the other one: Did you see what that dog did? It blew the horn of that truck there. I walked up and said,"Yes, and I have to be careful not to leave the keys in the truck also...and I drove off. (Best I could resolve this issue unto myself was that the windows being down, a bee or some flying insect got in the cab and his trying to swat it accidentally caused the horn to blow. This was the scond time that this had occurred and as you will see later, not the last time it is to happen. (3) Here is the third thing that happened before I moved back: About a year before that, I decided to take a trip, but I needed somewhere to leave Duke as I would be gone for maybe a couple of weeks. So, my brother agree to take care of the dog while I was away so I left Duke and the truck with him, which was next door to the land I had purchased to build on. When I got back, my brother told me that Duke could not tolerate his friend who occasionaly dropped by and that when he came they had to lock Duke up in the truck as Duke would try to tear into him. This man was a police officer, but I don't think he would have been in uniform at the time. Anyway, Duke must have sensed something about him that set him on fire. (I am trying to do paragraphs, but I don't think it works...must not be doing the right think) So, I arrived , to stay, in Alabama in May of 1988. I had a house built and moved into it on the last day of September of that year. You know what, you guessed it, there is so much to tell about Duke after I moved back, there going to have to do a Part IV and I guarantee that will be the end. So hang in there with me. I am feeling better now after having had the heart valve replaced in early October I think I can get Part IV posted in a short time....

DUKE: Part II

If you have not read Part I (the first installment), please do so now. I have told you when Duke appeared upon the scene. Where might he have come from? Well, several people told me that sometimes when Gator students left Gainesville, (FL)..about 45 miles SE of Lake City where I lived...for one reason or another...they could not take their pet with them, so they just turned them loose. I retired in Feb., 1986 at age 60 and thought then that I would probably just remain in Lake City or move to some other place in that State; however about 15 months later I decided to return to Blount County, AL...this was in May, 1988. Guess the hills were calling me home, and, too, I still had several relatives living there. Well, if you count distant cousines, I was probably kin to most everybod. Having collected a lot of "treasures" (????) during the latter part of my living down there, I decided to haul a lot of it to AL in my DODGE Ram (covered). Duke got upset when he saw me loading the truck and would get up in the back of it. To pacify him, I let him sit up front in the cab. So, Duke and I made several trips hauling "stuff" to AL. He loved it. He particulary enjoyed seeing the animals in fenced in pastures as we went along...maybe he thought they were LIONS. After all, he was an African Lion Hound besides being called Rhodesian Ridgeback. Well, finally after I had made several trips, came the day for the final one I having hired a truck to haul the heavier things that I couldn't lift and take in my truck (I still have that truck,presently "resting" in my yard where it has been broke-down for several months, but there is a promise it will be up and running before the year is over..."Oh, yeah"...hope so anyway. After Duke appeared upon the scene (Jan., 1986) we continued to live there until May 17, 1988..that's the date I oficially again became a resident of the State of Alabama. I had lived long enough in Florida. I tell them its a fun place to visit, but think twice before moving there. Some who visit are so carried away with it, before they realize what they are doing they have sold their house "Up North" and done bought a dream place (oh, yeah) in FL.Several told me that is what had happend to them. Looks like I am getting side tracked so let me get back on-line. In this part, I must tell you one more thing as such act,on Duke's part, appears again and again as time passes. When I was 16-17 years old, I worked in same office at the "Air Depot" near Gadsden,AL. Her husband was in the CB's and when the war (now, which war was that?) was over, they would settle in Plains, Ga., where he grew up. So, in making the trips that I did myself I kept telling myself I must look up Mary & PJ as I might never be that way again and as it turns out, I haven't...so upon nearins Plains, I stop at a conveniece store and inquire as to where they lived. The clerk told me, "You, should have been here earlier as PJ just left here" She told me where they lived...yes, it was on that highway and I had passed their house many time. (Actually, it was next door to President Carter's driveway and they had been friends since childhood) But what I am having a hard time to is this: So, I stopped by. Mary remembered me, but I had never met her husband. They were very cordial and we were sitting there, PJ said to me,"Why, don't you invite your friend in..they would be welcome" I was puzzled as there was no one in the truck, which was not visible from where we were sitting in the family room. He had said what he did because he heard a horn blow. Then I realized Duke blew the horn. I told him I didn't think this "friend" of mine wold be welcome in their house as it was a large dog. We all laughed and were soon on or last trip back to Alabama. I am so glad I stopped to see them as now they are all gone. (Their son was President Carter"s appointment clerk). Oh, my gosh, I have rambled on so there will be a Part III very soon .

DUKE

     

         While working for SSA in Florida, mainly in Lake City (Columbia), I was a sucker for taking in stray dogs.  I had a fenced in area in backyard  where my dog "Digger" stayed when not digging out.  She would do this evey few weeks, but always returned.
          On Jan 28th 1986 she returned from a few days out, and brought with her a dog I had never seen.  (These dogs never have any ID on them). I had never seen such a dog before.  This dog had 2 or 3 open sores on each side of the body, was weak and in dire need of some attention.  I immediately gave it some food....it was very hungry and thirsty).  That night it stayed on my open porch  on front of house. 
          The next morning, it was still there.....naturaly...  so, I fed it right away (Chigger is back in her fenced in pen).........I can always recall the date this strange looking dog appeared as it was on Jan 28th, 1986...the date space ship CHALLENGER exploded.
           Needing dire medical attention, I took it to a Vet., which I recall was just 2 of 3 blocks up the highway (US 44l--South Marion Street).  When upon seeing the dog, the Veternarian said, "Oh, my gosh, where did you get that Rhodesian Ridgeback?  I have never treated that one but I have treated several that live in this area"  He told me also that it was know as an African Lion Hound.  Upon researching the history the dog, I learned that some Boers,  who I think were from Germay-Belgium area, had setteled in Southern African (Rhodesia) and had bred it with a native dog there so they would have a hunting dog that could go longer periods without water, and mainly a strong dog to keep the lions at bay until the hunters arrived.
          Well, unfortunately this dog did not respond to theVet's medication.  A local lady that I had worked with (I had retired the year before), told me to take it to this other Vet in the area as there as a Negro man who worked there who could cure about any dog problem with "medical baths".  So,I did and left it overnight as required.  When I picked it up the next day, he told me it had acquired "bad things" from fleas and he thought it would be OK in a few days.  Bring it back  it back next year if it happend again.  (Fortunately it never happended again).
          It gets its name, in part, from the ridge on its back, and the fact it was bred in the country known then as Rhodesia.  Nice looking dog, stought, intelligent, obedient, so I named it:  DUKE
          But what happened to DUKE???  Read my next installment and find out.  (As one follower remarked a previous 2-part story:  "Your stories are  like soap operas, leave you hanging"  Well, how else I am going to back for the secon part?"

ECUDORIAN Dog Story

     In 2010 I spent six weeks in the mountanious region of  Ecuador.  This was unusual for me as I am not a traveler and I was 83 at the time.  The central part of Ecuador, from North to South, is very mountanious.  My main destination was the village of Bilcabamba in the southern part of that country.  My first stop down there was at a B&B named Hosteria Izhcayluma, a very outstanding facility up on the side of a mountain 2km from the village of Bilcabamba.  (It cost $1.00 to go from there into the village, so it was not far).  This facility was built and operated by two German brothers.  Best I recall now, it cost $25.00 per night for a unit in a 4 bedroom building (two up and two down)...there were several types of accomodations.  The dining room in the main building was open air on 3 sides.  Your cost also included a good free breakfast; other meals you paid for and were very GOOD and very reasonably priced.  So to get along with the story, one day I was having lunch and noticed the dog that lived over the dining room with the owners was sitting outside keeping watch of something below.  All of a sudden it came running through the dining room and went upstairs.  Then immediately it came running down the stairs with a young dog with it that looked exactly like it:  off-white with a lot of reddish brown spots.  So the big dog, named Kafu, resumed its position with the younger one beside it.  Shortly thereafter there appered this woman, who was the wife of one of the owners, appeared having walked up the hill from below.  They accompanied her through the dining area and went upstairs.  This act really touched me.  A day or so later, as I was having supper in the dining room, Kafu comes up to me, put its two front feet up on my thigh, and then all of a sudden it gives me a kiss on the right side of my face...it was a big slurp from bottom of cheek upwards.  I was surprised.  Not knowing what it might next do, I gently pushed it back and it left.  There were two girls sitting at a nearby table and I heard one say to the othere, "Did you see what that dog did to that man?"  (After telling this to a relative recently, she told me that her daughter had a dog that would put its paws up on your thighs when sitting and it wanted to be petted, then it would go to the next seated person to get more petting)  Did Kafu want to be petted, or did he want me to go play chess with him/her?  I never knew as I did not say anything to the owners about this.  For curosity sake, I should have found out.  (Later I want you to go to:  www.izhcayluma.de/ , click on Photos then double click on the pic showing Kafu playing chess.  Look at all the other pics also and you will see what an outstanding facility this is).........I regret that I did not see nor inquire about Kafu playing chess.   So, a day or so later, the day I was leaving, I was having brekfast in the dining room and saw some children placing flowers on a fresh grave on the sloping hillside in the yard.  I inquired as to what this was about and was told that Kafu was chasing a strange dog off the yard and was struck by a car and died instantly.  (There are no speed laws down there except during school hours, I was told).  I could have cried.   (From now on, my stories will be posted as I compose them and not scheduled for release at a specified time.  It may be a couple of weeks, or so, before anymore as I am entering a hospital in Birminghm this coming Thursday for two special "procedures", bye, Fred.)

BUSTER: The Wonderful Dog, Part II (Conclusion)

     (I am trying again; mybe it will work this time).........So my sister Glads and her husband lived on Pea Ridge and had this dog named Buster.   They inivited her Aunt, Maude (she was not my Aunt as Glads and I had different Mothers, but I called her Aunt Maude also, with her permission) to come spend the day.  Later that morning Jesse asked Aunt Maude if she would like a fried squirrel for lunch, and she said, "Where on earth are you going to get a squirrel...its almost lunch time now?"  Jesse told her he would send Buster after one.  So he told Buster to go get a squirrel.  Aunt Maude said, "Jesse, you know that dog can't understand you".  Jesse replied,"Just give her fifteen minutes, Aunt Maude and she will be back with a squirrel".  Well, a few minutes passed and Aunt Maude said, "Where's that squirrel, Jesse?"   Jesse said,"Well, now you wait a minute its only been ten minutes"  About two minutes later here comes Buster up on the front porch with a live squirrel in its mouth.  Aunt Maude was astonished.  The woods were full of squirrels and other 4 legged creatures.  Well, Jesse dressed the squirrel and Glads parboiled it, and then rolled in flour and fried it and made the most delicioius gravy to go along with the hot biscuit she had just baked in that iron wooden stove.  So that was lunch, and Buster got some too.  This is a true story, and for many years later Glads and Jesse loved to tell this story.  I had fried squirrel there too.  Maybe Buster knew we were living during the Depression era and she needed to help out.               (Will try to do the Ecudorian dog story soon if I can get this computer to work...Norton has told me the cookies have been fixed...we will see.)

ALL ABOUT BUSTER...the wonderful dog

    My sister Glads--well, her real name was Gladys, but I always called her Glads, and best I recall now (I am 86 and may not always recall things exactly right), everybody else called her Glads also.  I thnk she liked that name because she liked flowers, especially gladiouli.  (Later in life, she became a floral designer in a florist).
     Glads was much older than I as we had different Mothers.  At the time I am referring to, I was 8 or 9 and she, well, she had already been married several years and lived on PEA RIDGE with her husband, Jesse.
     They owned a ten-acre plot on a poor, rocky, yet treeed  (how do U like that word?)  ridge, as I said, called Pea Ridge.  I don't know now if that was the real name on that ridge or just a descriptive word somebody attached to it.  Years later, I asked somebody why it was called that and was told,"That land was so po hit wouldn't grow nuthin but peas!!!!", but Jesse always had a prolific garden.  I suppose there were a number of rocky ridges called Pea Ridge in most every State
    Jesse went to work in a nearby coal mine and latere in life drew Black Lung benefits...(I gotta stop this colored background as it is going to use all my ink).
     Jesse, relatives and friends bult their small wooden house.  The corner of it that you first approached was an open covered porch as it was part of the house.  On the left side of the porch was a door to the living room  In it there was an open fireplace with a large, flat rock hearth.  Then you went in to the dining area and to the right of that (no divider) was the kithen, and in the corner was a large iron cookstove.  Out of a sheet of sandpaper, Glads had cut out the shape of a cat.  It was mounted on the wall by the stove, and on it read:  " Scratch my Back".  I thought that was so clever...but then I was awfully gullible...or is it gullable??...just remembeer, "mesobumb".  (Many years later, I ran across a letter addressed to Glads from the "Home Extension Service." which was anotice of their next meeting, dated in mid-30's.)
     In those days, there was no electricity, no telephone, few paved roads, no indoor plumbing.  They had a well but it did not furnish sufficient water so they caught rainwater which was funneled into the well.
     Oh, I nearly forgot...yes, they  had a dog named BUSTER.  Next Monday, I will tell you why he was such a wonderful dog.
     (PS:  I have another GOOD dog story that I met in  Ecuador, but, first, I have to do some research on it..thanks for your patience.)

AN 1896 FAMILY INCIDENT

My Father was the eldest of eleven children. They lived on a small farm in Bount County, Alabama. He was born in 1875. Eeking out a living on a small farm in those days was a laborious chore. The incident I am going to tell you was not told to me by my Father nor by any relative. I told it to a cousin, who I look upon as our clan's family historian, but she said she had never heard of such a thing either. I was wondering if it were a common practice to do this back in those olden days. It was told to me several years ago by a non-related eldery man. I believe it to be true, but it is odd that I had never heard of it before. In February 1896...here we go now...my Father turned age 21 and he was still living at home. His Father told him you are 21 now and time for you to leave home. To help him on his way, his father told him he could have $50.00 cash or a mule and ten acres. My Father chose the $50.00. He spent the day and left the next morning after breakfast. His Father gave him some money. He (my Father) counted it, and it only came to $47.50. He inquired of his father, "Where is the rest of it?" His father replied, "Well, you ate supper, that's .75 cents, you had a night's lodging, that's $1.25, and you ate breakfast, thats .50 cents" So my Father took the money and departed for Waxahachie, Texas--the county seat of Ellis County, Texas, located just South of Dallas. I have heard that several families from Blount County, AL. migrated there back in latter 1800s when cheap land here was no longer available. They liked the area as it was hilly, similar to Blount County, I am told. My Dad stayed there at least one year, if not longer, I am not sure. He attended a school there and worked on the side. He returned to Blount County and lived there for the remainder of his life. He was a Teacher-Principal in rural elementary schools, often being only one or two rooms..maybe three or four sometimes. Have you ever heard of a similar incident?

GUAYASAMIN: Ecuador's Picasso

The plane left Miami 1 1/2 hours late due to "having to fix a broken part". It was a four hour flight to Quito arriving at the airport there about 10:00 pm. There was a light rain. When we started descending my seatmate, a native of Guayaquil (the largest city in Ecuador) told me not to get frightened because we had to go in between two mountains and make a sharp turn to the left...we did and all of a sudden you could see all the lights of the runways. Quito now has a large new modern airport about 35 miles from the city. So I check out through Customs, get a taxi and head for the Magic Bean Hostil in downtown Quito where I have a reservation. The entrance gate was locked, but a guard came immediately and opened it. This building was an old colonial-type house with a restaurant (a very good one) on the ground floor with rooms and dormatories on the first floor....yes, what we call the second floor is the FIRST floor down there...I have a bedroom with bath and also a kitchenette. I was tired and retired right away after having noticed some framed prints on the wall of the bedroom. The next morning I looked at them and saw all were done by someone named Guayasamin. Little, at that time, did I know what a great abstract artist he had been. I felt somewhat ashamed not already knowing who he was having taken a couple of courses in Art History at the University, but after all that was 50+ years ago. So, on Friday I take a bus to Otavalo, about 40 miles North of Quito. That alone was an experience. There are no speed laws down there except, I was told, during school hours. So here we go up and down hills and mountains at a high rate of speed. The highway was excellent being part of the international highway system. (About now my brother would have said, "Well, get on with the story") A day or two later, while having stopped to listen to a flute player at the edge of the hugh Arts & Crafts Market, I asked someone standing near me for the directions to a Travel Company that I had written on a piece of paper and he said, "But there is one much closer and a lady there speaks English also. It was located at the other end of the market. He said it was the one he used. He kindly escorted me there where I made a reservation on the TAME Airline from Quito to Loja being en route by bus to Vilcabamba. This gentleman who spoke five languages happended to be a retired college professor. He invited me join him for lunch at what he said was the best restaurant in Otavalo located at the North end of the big Market. He said he ate lunch there everyday as one could get a discount by buying a month-long meal ticket. The food was good. There were cloth tablecloths with fresh flowers on each table. The men waiters wore white jackets. So, to get along with the story a day or so later he escorted me to the Peguche Waterfall telling me that on way back from the waterfall he wanted me to see "the music museum". So we stop part way down the hill and go down the walkway to this building, which serves also as a house. Their garden was a corn patch and seemed that and other vegetables were grown in some of the yards. Anyway, it was obvious he knew the man who greeted us, then a couple of elderly women came out to greet him also. So while he was talking to them, I wandered down this dimly lit hallway where there was more light at the end. When I got there I saw three large framed watercolor paintings..........and, what do you know, they were all three signed by who else but GUAYASAMIN. They each had glass over them, so I got to touch each one. But, what on earth were these very, very valuable original paintings doing here? About this time, my newly acquainted friend came up and I inquired of him about it. He said Guayasamin gave them to a friend who later died, and he being a friend, or was it a relative, to these people that lived inherited them. (I later learned that these works of art were each valued from $75,000.00 - $100,000.00 each) What a coincidence that after having first becoming acquainted with Guayasamin by seeing the prints at the Magic Bean Hostel, I later see three of his original paintings. (There was a Guayasamin Museum in Quito, and I regret deeply that I did not go there). So, this is my Guayasamin story and I am so glad it happened. (PS: I forgot to say that the only music related item I recall seeing there was a CD by some well known Ecuadorian Organist. My friend handed it to me, but I told him, no thanks, I would buy it if it were by a local playing their national instrument, the flute. Well, maybe there was one old instrument on display. On the way to the Waterfall, where the taxi could not go any further because the road stopped, this friend said, "Wait, here I want to talk to this lady in the Gift Shop" It appeared to me from my viewpoint, there was nothing in the Shop to sell. I mention these things because it seems some of these folks quietly and tactfully are trying to get you to buy things to help the local economy. I didn't mind that because I knew most of them were so poor. On more than one occasion, the first thing a taxi driver asked you, when you had hired his service, was "Did you come to buy land"? If so, I am sure he had connections with local real estate dealers. The second question some asked was, "Where youse wife?"...well, I always had a good answer so that ended that line of questioning. I was there during the rainy season but I saw very little rain. Most tourists visit during the "dry" season, which, I think begins in June and last about 6 months.

"FREE" Hospital in Vilcabamba, Ecuador

Yes, there is a free hospital in Vilcabamba, Ecuador. It was built with public funds years ago. A Japanese man gave an electrocardigram machine to the hospital that is said to have been valued at $40,000.00...so, they named the hospital after him: KAKCHI-OTANI. It is operated by the Catholics. It is a simple block building near downtown. It has private rooms and wards. It is kept immaculately clean. A young man came into the room at about 5 am and swept it, mopped it, and then went over it with some kind of disinfectant on another mop. The food was OK but I usually didn't know what it was that I was eating. OK, so why was I a patient there? It really started about two weeks earlier when I was visiting in Otavalo, a town north of Quito...well, at least in my opinion, that is when my problem began. One day an acquaintance I met invited me to go see the Peguche Waterfalls near the village of Peguche which is located about 10 or 12 miles North of Otavalo. You can go nearly all the way by taxi, which is inexpensive, but you have to walk then through a very old eucalyptus forest.I could not keep up with him so I lagged behind huffing and puffing. (I did not tell him I would get short of breath if I hurried...so I had to stop and rest a couple of minutes several times before I got to the bridge overlooking the falls.) Then I had to walk back to where we had kept a taxi waiting. A day or so later, I then went to Vilcabamba. There I started coughing and thought I had just caught a bad cold. About a week later, one day I was having lunch at a natural food restaurant (a large bowl of soup, which was VERY good), but all of a sudden I got very nauseated, There was no other customers at that point in the room (most people ate outside). I saw a door and thought it might be a restroom but it was locked. I went back to my seat, and about that time a woman came in to pick up a take out order. That's when I could hold it no longer, and let loose right in the bowl of that delicious soup. She came over and put her arm around my should telling me she had cared for her late husband for two years before he expired and she could help me. She had them to bring a wet towel from the kitchen and she wiped my forehead and they brought me a glass of orange juice from the kitchen. A man wearing a long leather coat appeared on the scene from nowhere and he told em, "He just got low on sugar and was going to pass out" I had happen to notice him earlier walking in the vicinity of the Catholic Church on one side of the central square and the thought came to me that he was probably a Monk or some religious figure, but I later heard he was a truck driver from Oregon down for the big natural food gathering that was going on in that area. (OK, Fred, get to the point. This is what my brother used to tell me if I drug on too long it telling an event, but I think it is important here for you to know the background of what I think it was all about)..So, this kind woman told me that she had a friend from the States who lived nearby and usually came into town over the week-end and that if I cared to tell her where I was staying she would have her check on me, saying she had noticed that I had been coughing a lot. I told her, and the nurse came to see me a couple of days later. She said, "Come on, we are going to the hospital" So, we got a taxi and went to the nearby free hospital (the only hospital of any kind in this town). No one there spoke English and my Spanish is rather limited. After listening to me breathe, the nurse there said, "Bronchial pneumonia, three days, hospital; stay?" So, I said, Si, stay. I was there for 2 1/2 days and the nurse who took me came to check on me on Wed (I was admitted on Monday am), she had talked with the doctor (She spoke fluent Spanish), and both he and she thought I should go to a larger hospital in Loja since the X-Ray machine here was broken and a patient diagnosed with pneumonia should have their lungs x-rayed. So, she and a taxi driver acquaintance took me to a large hospital in Loja about 40 miles North. I was there until Sun at noon when I was discharged. The bill there was $900.00. It was a very modern hospital, good food, private room, huge TV, etc. I knew that Medicare would not pay outside USA but then when I got home I remembered I had a supplemental policy that might pay some on it. I was surprised about 10 days after filing a claim that I received a check for $900.00 Some way to make money in Ecuador as I didn't have to pay for food and living accomodations for a week but I wouldn't want to repeat it. (I did have to buy my own medication at the free hospital, but everything else was free). Two other interesting things developed out of that trip to the falls; I will tell later.

What Happened In The Miami International Airport, Miami, FL., when en route to Ecuador

In Nov., 2009,an acqintance told me about his trip the month before to Ecuador,partially on business and as a tourist. It sounded interesting, but at the time I thought who wants to go to Ecuador? Well, in Jan 2010 one evening when I was bored I thought why not Google Ecuador. Well, I did, and that was my mistake. Before I knew it I had discovered an Ecuordian airline that had a special rate on that expired the next night. The airline was LAN, the rate...roundtrip...Miami to Quito, Ecuador, was only $399.00--couldn't be cheaper. Next thing I knew I had made a reservation and paid for the ticket all online. Then I discovered American Airlnes' commuter service called American Eagle was innagurating a flight two weeks before my departure which was April 19th that would take me nonstop from Birmingham to Miami, so I made a roundtrip reservation and paid for the ticket all online. Boy, was I getting brave having never been out of the States...well, except to Tijuana, of course, when I was in the USN in San Diego...oops, I forgot about the tour several years before that to Copper Canyon in Mexico. Anway here I was 83 years old, travelling alone, going to a foreign country...My friends thought I was nuts...maybe I wasn't far from it. The flight from Birmingham to Miami took less than two hours, arriving early in the morning. My flight to Quito was scheduled to leave at 4:30. I realized that I had a long layover but I didn't mind that. So, I found out which gate the LAN jet would depart from and meandered in that direction, which happened to be at the other end of this large airpot and on a lower floor. So, here I go with a tote bag and pulling my roller bag. (This event which is about to take place was after I had been in the airport for a couple of hours or so) I see a sign pointing out a Men's Restroom. Not knowing how far it would be to the next one, I thought maybe I better stop by. I noticed two uniformed policemen near me, each holding on to a guard dog....as I passed by, the dogs lunged at me. I froze in my steps knowing I had nothing on me unless somebody had slipped something in my tote bag. One of the policemen turned around, smiling and greeting me said, "Sir, do you have food in that bag?" I said, "Yes, sir, I have Oreos and Fig Newtons" Then he said, "Go, ahead, that's all right" Boy, was I relieved. The dogs are trained to detect food as smugglers have been known to put drugs inside food. All along there are benches where you can sit and rest. As I was sitting on one, I turned around where you could see a floor below and there was a man sprawled out on the floor. People passed and no one helped him. I got up and viewed him from a slight different angle and then noticed he actually was kneeling....yes, facing the East and saying his prapers...that's why no one stopped to help him......oh, mesodumb....I understand the Muslims pray five times a day, or more if they choose. So I have lunch...a green salad with ham and cheese.......and start out again. Before long I sat on a bench and nearby the tourist were having their bags wrapped with a cellophane wrapping machine.....which I had never seen before. When there was no longer anyone in line, I stepped over and asked the attendant what this was all about.He said these passengers were going to Cuba, and they do this to keep thieves from breaking into their bags. Well, I finally get to the LAN waiting area. The plane was to depart at 4:30. Best I recall it was about 3pm then. The waiting room is filling up...apparently the flight was a sellout. So to pass time, you speak to a few people, and they speak to you, etc. One man from Georgia was going to Ecuador to instigate buying (or renting??) land on which he would raise ferns for the florist business; he already had such a farm in Guatemala....well, before long it was time to load. Then the attendant announced there would be a short delay because, "They have to fix a broken part". Of all things to tell us. ( I would have made up anything except that; but then it wouldn't be telling the truth, would it? ) Well, this went on about every 30 minutes...still fixing the broken part...and then she says..about 20 minutes until 6pm..that if it isn't fixed by 6pm the flight will be cancelled. Then right at 6pm she says, "OK, the part has been fixed, let's start loading" Was I going to get on that plane?????? I think I was about the last one to get up and head towards the loading zone only doing so when I saw no one else was afraid the plane would have another broken part. It took 4 hours to get to Quito. I had a great seatmate who had an insurance business in Miami but was a native of Guayaquil..the largest city in Ecuador...where he also had an insurance business. I must say here that the flight attendants were great, the plane was clean, the food was OK...no complaints whatsoever. I would fly LAN again anytime and they keep sending me these temptations. So, this is what happended in the Miami International Airport when I was en route to Ecuador.

The Only Time My Father Ever Whipped Me

THE ONLY TIME MY FATHER EVER WHIPPED ME WAS: Because I did not want to be in a picture being taken of relatives in our frontyard, but why? After having thought about this recently, I am now 99.9% sure of why. My maternal grandfather died August 2, 1934. Relatives from WVA came and stayed at our house. They had a son, about age 12, (I was age 7) that had a severe hairlip. I had never seen such before. He wanted to be nice and play with me but he scared the living daylights out of me--I was terrified. I would run and hide to keep out of his sight. (I never told anyone why I did this then or later). I recall, too, that same day I had escaped to the shop building and my brother, seven years older, found me and said, "Come on, Fred, it's time for dinner (lunch)" I understand later this cousin had his lip repaired, earned a college degree in chemistry and worked for years for that big chemical company that is not so popular in the news right now. He, his wife and son are no longer living. As I grew older, I became less frightened of the unknown...guess that's just part of growing up. (PS: The next time there was a picture to be taken guess what: I was the first in line. One whipping lasted a lifetime).

When I Nearly Got Shot By....

Early one evening this past Spring while I was in the living rooom eating supper from a tray, watching TV news and talking with a neighbor with whom I share my evening meals, a gunshot rang out across the room. "Did you see that?" "No, but I heared it", he responded. We were flabbergasted. How dare anyon disturb our evening meal. Well, we looked towards the windows on each side of the fireplace--no holes or cracks there. Then our eyes searched the wall thereabouts with no sign of damage there either--just a cobweb or two....maybe three...Then we inspected the rooms adjoining the living rooom--no one there; followed by going outside to see if anyone lurked thereabouts...nothing. So, we resumed our meal wondering if we were going to be shot at again. I went to bed a little uneasy that night. The next evening while eating alone as my neighbor was out of town , all of a sudden a gunshot came straight towards me. I looked up at the mantel across the room thinking it came from that direction. Slowly I crept over there, and what did I find on the mantel...among other things..three wisteria bean pods that had dispersed their seeds by forming a gas and upon imploding had shot their seed several feet away...after all it was Spring and time for planting.(Later, a friend told me if I didn't clean that room up, those wisteria seed were going to come up and the vines would choke me!)The wisteria bean pod, when maturing in the Fall, is a fuzzy velvety brown color. I had picked several (the first time I had ever seen any) and put them on the mantel forgetting about them. If you care to see what they look like, Google 'em, but none look as interesting as one in your hand. If you were to go out looking for some now, look deeper in and higher up on the vines as they will be among the older, darker leaves...not on this year's growth which is lighter in color. Now, go to my Facebook page and look at the pic I posted yesterday showing two new pods growing.

When, Why & How

In January, 1846, William (Billy) Cornelius of Blount County, Alabama, was notified by authorities inn Manchester, TN that they were holding a Negro slave who said he belonged to said Cornelius. He was told to come up, identify him, and take him back. Mr. Cornelius, a widower, went there, but there was a delay in relasing the person to him (we think he had to send back for his Certificate of Ownership). Meanwhile, he stayed at an Inn operated by a Mr and Mrs. Bostick. The Bostics had a widowed daughter and her five young children living with them. Before it was all over, Mr. Cornelius, a widower, needed a housekeeper, and she needed help in raising the children, were married in Manchester in January, 1846. Mr.Cornelius brought his new family to his farm in Blount County, AL., and raised them well. He did not adopt them, so they kept their Ingram name, being children of Council Brewton Ingram and Sarah Bostic Ingram. The children were: Caroline, Mary, Robert, Rufus and Augustus (latter later known as "Capt Gus"). William (Billy)Cornelius and Sarah had one child by their marriage, William Bostic Cornelius. Here I stop with family history for the time being.....needless to say, now many offspring reside in all four corners of the World........well, the World does have four corners, doesn't it??? "Mesodumb". I am a descendant of Rufus Alexander Ingram. Thanks to the runaway slave for allowing me to be born in good ole Blount County, Alabama!!!