Granger McDaniel – HampoLand

green Dear Granger, I’ve been thinking about you a lot.

Today Alex and I repainted an old doghouse that the dog absolutely refuses to enter. But it’s too big to move. At least it looks better.

I was winding up an electrical extension chord in the yard and discovered a big animal had pooped on it. Pretty gross but I guess that’s why they make soap.

Mary in in Indianapolis working at a super inner city Boys and Girls Club. Good Lord the stories she calls with all the time. You’d be so in love and proud of her . She’s unspeakably gorgeous and silly.

Sandor is thirteen now and off riding his dirt bike. Last night he stayed with a friend. His brother got a fish hook caught in his face so that was the big story for the night. He’s selling some kind of meat sticks this week so he can go to band camp. I’m sorry your not here to help with the cause.

Jack called this morning. He went to see John Prine last night. Fifth row at the Ryman in Nashville. We are working on a screenplay together about Dad. I know you’re glad to hear that.

Last night Alex made me chicken picata and Lexo stopped by the house for a little while. She’s so beautiful now, you’d be astonished. She brought her guitar too and played. I wish she wasn’t such a good song writer so I could discourage her. She and Alex put on Leprechaun garb and I laughed till I had to pee. You would have loved the chicken and the two of them. Every time you called on the phone you always asked what Alex was fixing for dinner.

It’s been a pretty good weekend here on planet earth. I had a dream last night that I died and when I got to heaven you were all there. But I missed the kids so much that it wasn’t heaven at all, so I asked you all to send me back.

Tomorrow will be a good day too because I have my family. Tomorrow is also March 15th, The Ides of March. Remember? that was the day Mom killed herself. She left me that note on the door that said, “Beware of the ides of March.” She was nuts! Who does that? It’ll be a good day.

I love you and miss you. You’d be proud.

Love Pooh

A Boy In Love

class My parents fell in love in third grade, during the Great Depression.

On bright fall afternoon, my father, Granger McDaniel, squatted next to Whittington Creek. Patiently, he jiggled a piece of string. There was a tiny piece of bacon attached. He knew most of the crawdads were gone this time of year but he had a feeling. Finally, Granger watched as a crawdad approached the bacon and snapped his claw onto the meat.

“Gotcha!” he said as he raised the string up and removed the crawdad. He looked closely at the crawdads face and bulging eyeballs. “I’m keeping you for the baby! He’ll think you’re really funny, I bet.”

He shoved the string, bacon and crawdad into his deep front pocket then without hesitation or thought, started running, into the woods and up West Mountain.

There wasn’t a visible trail but Granger knew exactly where he was going. He expected every rock and log. He knew each fork and tree. He’d run this game trail up and over West Mountain so many times he didn’t really have to think as he ran.

West Mountain was steep, but not terribly tall. Granger reached the summit in less than fifteen minutes. Grinning, stopped to take in the view for a moment and get his bearings. Then as quickly as he stopped he bolted down the mountain, sliding and skidding, sometimes sling shotting around thin trees to slow himself down.

Exploding out of the tree line, Granger stopped completely to catch his breath. He whipped off his hat, licked his dirty hand and smoothed his dark shaggy hair.

He was standing on the edge of a manicured lawn. A beautiful white colonial house with dark green shutters and trim loomed in front of him. After dusting off his pants with his hat, he suddenly sprinted to the back door and knocked twice.

He saw Louella, in her white uniform peek out the window at him before she opened the door.

“Hi Miss Louella, can Ann play today?”

“No, Dr. Stell said she needs to practice her piano.” She handed him a small plate with two cookies and a glass of milk. “Eat up and leave the plate on the table.”

“Can I take one of the cookies to my baby brother?”

“It’s your cookie, do what you want.” She watched him for a moment then said. “Tie your shoe before you leave so you don’t trip running down the mountain.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said as he shoved an entire cookie in his mouth then slugged down the little glass of milk.

Louella closed the door as Granger dropped the extra cookie into his deep front pocket with the crawdad. He squatted down and tied the lace on his ragged shoe, pulled his cap down tight on his head and started running.

Before my dad died, when he was fifty one, he told us to pour his ashes on West Mountain, because he’d always be running to his girl.

It’s always been said, my mom and dad fell in love in third grade. It wasn’t always easy.

Vic Lives On…Forever

Strange things happen.

My first husband was a man named Vic Latham and he lived in Key West. He was a huge, legendary kind of man who takes up too much space in the room. He drank, ate, snorted and smoked more than five men on a full moon night. If they made a movie about Vic they would have to dig up Cecil D Demille to direct the damn thing. That’s how big he was.

He was more than twenty years older than I and I was his fifth wife. (I was young and didn’t think four previous wives was a bad sign for a marriage.) vic and I had two “first meetings”.

The second introduction occurred when my brother, Granger was getting ready to go to prison. I had to take care of some shady business in the Florida Keys, for him while he was away. I was in college at the time, semi innocent and dedicated, no, devoted, to my brother Granger. He introduced me to Vic, who was one of the owners of a famous late night bar called the Full Moon Saloon (aka The Full Spoon Saloon). He asked Vic to ‘keep an eye on me” while he was behind bars.

Vic fell in love with me. Hard. I fell in love with Key West, the famous people who hung out at his house, the appearance of money and a rambunctious wildness, I fell in love with his charm, his stories and being completely adored.

After Vic and I had been dating for six months or so I suddenly remembered a picture, from a vacation my mom, dad and I took when I was a very little girl. I called my mom and asked her to dig up the artifact. And she did. And it was so spooky I was nearly speechless for an hour.

My mother, father and I had visited Key West when I was eight years old. We ate lunch at a elegant bistro called Louies’ Backyard. It was a beautiful old house on the ocean. In the picture I’m wearing a blue Holly Hobbit smock shirt and eating steak tartar. My daddy is next to me with a bloody mary and smoking a cigarette. The manager of Louies’ Backyard is standing between us staring directly at the camera with black eyes and a black goatee He’s very tall, handsome and dangerous looking. And he’s the only one looking at the camera. It was Vic. He’d taken care of us that afternoon and he posed when my mother asked to take our picture.

For years Vic joked my father would have shot him right there had he known what would happen years later.

Obviously Vic and I were meant to be together. Fate was busy orchestrating our meeting and marriage because Jack and Mary were born, two of the most inexplicably magical, talented and extraordinary people on the planet. They are so much like Vic and so much like me. And they will change the world.

Vic died yesterday, Easter. But he lives on.