March 6, 2010 - Linda sent along this link to a great powerpoint on Galveston. Check it out, and relive some fond memories. It may take a moment to load, but is well worth the wait. When it asks, click to OPEN, and then at upper middle of screen click on "slide show". Next, on far left/top click on "from beginning". (YES, you CAN do this! I teach this stuff to teachers, and I am no techie!!!) Be sure your speakers are on. AND... I think the tree was planted in 1875, not 1975. Thanks Linda! KD Download Galveston_Island
In response to my request of Laura McNeil Burns (who lives in Galveston), she sent this photo of her lovely 97 year old home, and the following message that relates to items in the powerpoint. "The Borden Oak survived Ike, I am glad to say, although many trees did not. My friend's tree that was listed in the Handbook of Texas as the largest magnolia in Texas did not survive the storm. Also, the trolleys are not running again yet, thanks to Ike also. Here is my house, which is an L-shaped folk Victorian. L-shaped Victorians are usually (though obviously not always) one-story. Laura" KD
November 30, 2008
KD here - We haven’t heard from Linda for a while and I have missed her e-voice on the blog. Now I know the reason why. She writes: “I have been in Louisiana visiting my mother and checking on my place back home. Twenty trees are down but thank goodness none on the house. No computer in Louisiana, so it is good to catch up on all the recent news on the blog.
Karla, I thought I would send you my Christmas/Veteran’s Day story. Altho the Depression hit in 1929, in rural Louisiana it still seemed to be around during World War II in 1942 when I was born. The young went to war as boys and returned as men. Life was simple and we ate what we produced. "Light bread" was rare; we got to eat it when my grandfather went on fishing trips as he would only eat biscuits. "Sticks to your ribs" as he would say.
Thank God for Red Star syrup and Sawmill gravy because as a child I would not drink "cow" milk or eat yard eggs. As the oldest grandchild I got to sit on the bench next to my grandfather during mealtime. At 12 noon hearing Paul Harvey on the radio and eating garden peas, sliced tomatoes, fried okra, cornbread and water for me to drink is a memory I will never forget. The old home place still stands. My mother is eighty-five and keeps the place up. Strange, many a roof went this year when Ike hit at seventy-five miles an hour, but the old tin roof stayed intact. Even now as I walk to the mailbox there is a pine tree and I break off some of the pine needles and twist them and smell that familiar smell that takes me back to my childhood."
Linda's Christmas / Veteran's Day story can be found by clicking here.
Scroll to the bottom to read an article about Linda's husband as he remembers his work as an ATF agent.
Linda's original biographical comments follow:
I'm now living on Wilmington Island, Savannah, Georgia. The Atlantic Ocean is 10 minutes away and I love the beach.
1942 is my birth year so I am one of the 65 + 10 months persons awaiting retirement for Social Security. I'm a Psychiatric nurse, making lots of plans for retirement, hope I don't have to use the tools of my trade on myself (I use my husband as my homework). Looking forward to my tenth grandchild in April.
In my memories I hear your laughter and see your smiling faces as we walked the halls of Milby. Bought a shirt the other day with buffalos on it, thought it would be great for our next reunion.
Be sure to read the post, "The Teacher Who Influenced Me". This post was Linda's suggestion and she has written a beautiful and meaningful piece about the influence Mr. McWhirter had on her life, and through her in the lives of her children and patients.
But wait, there is more. Linda's latest achievement is the birth of her grandson, Thomas James. Here's her account of first "waiting for baby's arrival", and then "the big event", followed by photos of the precious little fella.
WAITING FOR BABY'S ARRIVAL #1 , a comment under "On Becoming the Parent of Your Parents" on 03/18/08
Today I am in Ky., like ''Gone With The Wind'', I don't know nothing about birthing babies, but I am reading real fast and watching every move my daughter makes. Due date is MARCH 21. My cousin called from Louisiana and told me to watch for the first full moon. My son-in-law is a pilot and will not be back till Thursday, he had better hurry home. I attended the breast feeding class last night with my daughter and now know the importance of ''latching on''. When she told me she was having the baby natural I nearly fainted. I wonder how long it will be before she screams, '' GIVE ME DRUGS!'' Will let you know later. Linda
WAITING FOR BABY'S ARRIVAL #2 , a comment under Current Events on 03/24/08
Having a baby isn't what it used to be! This is an update from my last blog message. We were expecting my daughter's first baby last Fri. or Sat., the doctor saw her in the office last night at 8:30 and stripped her membrane, pulled the plug, gave my daughter and her husband a bottle of Mr. Pikante (taste very hot) told them to go home and eat and I will not tell you what else. Today she has dilated four - we need to get to ten before delivery time. After seeing the doctor this AM walking was encouraged, like a trip to Target. While my son-in-law's mother and I awaited their call to come to the hospital, the kids stopped at the grocery store and called us. With the contractions six minutes apart, the aid of the grocery cart to grip when a pain occured was a great help. I had visions of her delivering on the conveyor belt at the grocery store. At the present moment the kids are home with grocery items put away. My daughter is crawling around on all fours in the den, the dog is licking her face, the son-in-law is cleaning and moving things around wearing a T shirt that says JUST DO IT, the other grandmother is reading a book, and I am thinking about having a Miller Lite.
THE BIG EVENT , a comment under Current Events on 03/27/08
The water broke at 2:30 PM, Monday. The doctor came to the house and stated, ''it is time to go to the hospital''. As my son-in-law drove to the hospital I could see my daughter's hands grasp the roof of the car. As we drove to the front of the hospital she stated, "I want all the drugs they will give me''. The labor lasted seventeen hours. As my daughter has a production business she wanted the event on film with two of her photographers in the labor room and everyone giving comfort and assisting with breath one, two... and so on to ten - it was like a three ring circus. The doctor sat at the end of the table and if I hear the words ''good job!'', again I will scream. We ran into trouble when the baby was ''Sunny side up''(FACE UP). Near the end a C Section was about to be done, but the doctor managed to get the baby out with salad tongs. Thomas James arrived at 1:15 AM, weight 7.5 pounds, 22 inches long, with all his fingers and toes. We were so happy to get to meet this sweet baby boy. I love being a grandma.
Said Linda in the e-mail that accompanied the photos, "The beauty of God can be seen in a baby". Amen to that!!!
Please take the time now to make a comment in response to Linda's biography. You will also enjoy reading the comments that others have left.
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"Moonshine and Revenuers"...
Linda says of the 5th picture in this article: "Thought the guys in our group would like to see how the liquor was loaded and the car/truck used to haul. And, like I told you in my last E-Mail thought Sonny looked cute in his white socks , high water jeans and sunglasses. I can remember when our classmates looked like that, maybe from the Elvis era? Sonny went rabbit hunting with Elvis, when he was in Mississippi, was sad he never got any pictures.
Whiskey Rebellion
By Jacob Cottingham
Published in “The South” Magazine
April/May 2008
Sneaking around in the woods like a redneck ninja, death defying car chases and busting good ol’ boys and dirty sheriffs composes a particularly Southern way of enforcing the law. Everyone knows that the South is much more than ladies in their finery, elegant calling cards, and dashing young gents with ‘product’ in their hair. Much of the South is filled with lunatics, drunks of every stripe, women who will knock a man down for looking at them funny, and other untamables. These are the kind of folks who keep the independent spirit of moonshine alive and well.
White Lightning has a history that stretches back much further than a Burt Reynolds flick—most people even know that the now living-room-safe sport of NASCAR has its roots in the maniac drivers of the Prohibition era.
Pittsburg Moonshine is often called ‘the second oldest profession’, and although it’s a bit more involved than the oldest profession, it’s a fairly simple process. Essentially, corn often in the form of animal feed is put into a vat with sugar and a bit of yeast with water where it’s left to ferment into mash. The mash is then heated and the steam is pushed through distinctive copper coils. The coils are cooled, almost always by the cold waters of a local stream, and then condensed. Once the steam is condensed, it is a potent concoction of almost pure alcohol – moonshine is generally 150-200 proof.
Moonshine was, and still is, more popular in the South mostly because the region is less populated but still accessible by many. Back in the ’50s and ’60s, the rural landscape of the South offered the distinct advantage of being distanced from neighbors or trespassers that might gawk and report what went on to the authorities. Liquor often left here and would be shipped up North. According to Homer Jenkins, retired Chief Enforcement Officer of the State of Georgia ATF,"weather also had something to do with it, and the time it takes to manufacture.” Jenkins was working the Savannah region of the state agency from 1957 to 1995 and said in the area at that time there were only three notable moonshining families. Asked about the different local blends Jenkins says, “Shine was shine. [There were] no blends, bourbon or anything like that.”
Making liquor is against the tax laws of the federal and state governments, and prosecutors often worked with the Department of Revenue. Sonny Strickland worked for the ATF on both the federal and state level, as well as putting in a brief stint with the Federal Bureau of Narcotics (a forerunner to the DEA) and the CIA all between 1952 and 1983.
“Seven states in the Southeast region and every dang agent, up until the ’80s was working moonshine, 24/7.” Strickland, “Bootleggers were generally honorable – they went to church and supported their family. The only thing that was against the law was [there was] no tax on it. [Moonshine] was non-tax paid liquor—it was a tax issue.” Jenkins rattles off the nomenclature: “Illegal whiskey, non-tax paid liquor. NPW. Unregistered distilleries and no taxes paid.”
Frank Lee worked for the ATF in Savannah from 1966 to 1991, and agrees with the good-natured side of some moonshiners. He says, “I’d have guys who I’d be after and they’d see me pulled over on the side of the road with a problem, and they’d help me out. They knew I was after them and they’d just laugh and say, ‘You ain’t caught me yet.’ I’d just tell ’em that they only had to mess up once before I did."
A local woman, and a longtime resident who declined to be named, elaborates, “Shine runners, the violent people, were like the meth folks. They were in it for the money and if you drank their shine you were likely to die. Whereas the families that did it for themselves and the people in the neighborhood just on the sideline—they really cared for their product and that was some smooth stuff. Aged even. Rushing the batch can mess it up. These folks would put it in a croc and age it and put sassafras in it.” Other notable ways to soften the liquor and add a twist to it include mixing some brown sugar in with the booze.
This writer managed to procure some moonshine with muscadine flavor from a guy in Tennessee. He got into shine because he was a hog farmer and had leftover feed when he sold his pigs in the winter. Instead of trashing the excess feed, he used it to make liquor. My 10-ounce free sample came in a sweet pepper jar, and was a darker color reminiscent of bourbon. Drinking the shine over rocks, it’s not the burner that I was expecting. There’s a potent smell, but it tastes a bit like cheap scotch. There is still some kick to it and the second glass doesn’t go down as smooth. My companion emits a half-bark after two glasses and by the third we both feel roughly half-drunk.
Irving Bond was a bootleg driver for a brief period in his youthful days in the mid-sixties. “Some of the older guys who actually had the hands-on thing—like my uncle, dead 10 years ago—he knew all the nuances, [and would] make 10-15 gallons of pure alcohol and put it in a barrel with some parched apples. The majority of shine is clear, cut with a little bit of water, and it’s 200 percent alcohol.” Bond describes this cutting process as almost necessary in the face of a potent glass of pure moonshine. “You’ll go insane drinking that stuff, a lot people will cut it in half where it’s around 100 or 120 proof.”
Before large liquor companies could regroup after the Prohibition era, it was often cheaper for people to buy unregulated booze to avoid the taxes, and get an extra kick. The wholesale production of moonshine was like the distribution of any other controlled substance – there were those who manufactured the product, then it was distributed through various runners to local sellers who each had their regular haunts.
By age 16, Bond had already been busted for running shine. Ironically, his introduction into the whiskey business was the result of another man’s misfortune. “One of the neighbors had a driver who got arrested, and couldn’t make the run anymore,” he recounts. “So I was approached with money in hand and [the supplier] furnished the vehicle.” Bond’s route took him from Ideal, Georgia, to Atlanta,
Asked whether it was a fast car, Bond gets excited, “Oh yeah man! It was a ’67 Chevy with a little hopped up engine. How do you think NASCAR got started?” Usually Bond transported the whiskey in brown, glass Clorox jugs, due to the relative rarity of plastic at the time. Sometimes folks would use small barrels, but Clorox was easy to come by. The danger of being caught was always present—and cops would keep an eye out for any suspicious vehicles riding a bit too low.
Sonny Strickland possesses one such watchful eye. In his era, he sat behind the wheel of a ’46 Ford Coup with a Cadillac engine, watching cars from all angles. “A lot of times [we’d] sit at an intersection and if [the runners] got 300 gallons of whiskey on a car, them tires will go flex when they run over the railroad tracks and all. Whiskey weighs about six to eight pounds a gallon.” The flex of the tires would clue the watchful agents into the fact that they may be carrying more than half a ton of liquor. Sometimes, wily bootleggers would install hidden compartments in doors, trunks and gas tanks to stash the illegal booze.
When the bootleggers were caught, they generally made a break for it. Strickland appropriately described these chases as “Balls to the wall. They run you double or nothing.” Jenkins says it’s part of the job, and every bit as exciting as you’d imagine. “[Dang] adrenaline running on both ends, theirs and yours too,” he surmises. The chases went “anywhere and everywhere.” He tells of the most memorable chase he had—in pursuit of Travis Bashler.
“I jumped him, [and] he had a hundred gallons on it. Weren’t but two roads then, 17 and 80, but 80 was a ways to go. We was in and out of dang traffic. That s.o.b. turned the curb there, jumped out and jumped in that s--t canal. All the sewage went right there and that s.o.b. jumped right in.” Jenkins is referring to the old canal by
Strickland’s car was one of the fastest vehicles that law enforcement had, able to exceed 120 mph. He was only outrun twice. The first, when he was driving a police Interceptor that wasn’t his usual ride, he got stuck behind a vehicle blocking him on the downhill slope of a windy mountain road.
“Another time, I jumped Crash himself,” he says, referring to the legendary bootlegger and racer, Guy “Crash” Waller from Dawsonville, Georgia. “He just flat out-drove me. He was an old race car driver and he just flat ass out-drove me. I got wild just following his skid marks. He got so far ahead of me. In fact, he got so far ahead he went on to downtown Atlanta, gassed up and took off again before the cops could find him.” Strickland pauses for a moment, perhaps recalling those days of skid outs and banditry. Acknowledging a worthy adversary, Strickland says, “He was a hell of a driver.”
Eventually Crash would end up in prison, but not before a federal officer, Roy Shields, got killed while pursuing him. Strickland tells of the two officers in a vehicle chasing the bootlegger. “They come to a “T” at a road and Crash jumped the ditch, and the two in pursuit wrecked into a tree and killed the federal agent.” Crash went to the pen in the ’50s, and “The Dukes of Hazard” would end up basing six seasons of television off that one story.
No bootlegging story is complete without the infamous corrupt sheriff. Bond thinks that the second time he was busted the sheriff was probably involved. He was caught in a backyard with a still operator. He explains, “[The] local sheriff had been sheriff for 30 years. Evidently the ol’ boy [the moonshiner] hadn’t given him his cut of the money or something like that and caused a little bit of bad blood. We all got arrested.” Strickland busted his fair share of fellow lawmen—taking down a total of five sheriffs. However, he defended the sheriff Bond speaks of in Macon county. “That Sheriff in that county was not dirty during that time he’s talking about because I worked that county. [The sheriff] had a nursing home on the side. I was in Ideal in ’67 and I left in ’74 to come back to Savannah." Strickland says, “We knew the sheriffs that were dirty.”
He refers to the sheriff in Darlington, where the racetrack was. “We arrested that sheriff, three deputies and a probate judge for being in the whiskey business. Yes sir, [in] that case, a state senator represented the sheriff…. All of the racecar drivers and bootleggers testified against him. They were all paying him.” Despite this episode and other busts, Strickland still insists sheriffs were, “not generally crooked.”
Once a suspect was pinpointed, usually through the use of informants, it was a matter of tracking the resources used to make the shine. Usually, this meant watching sugar purchases. Jenkins tells of his biggest bust, over by Claxton, an operation that was making 30,000 gallons of mash. “[We] followed the sugar from old Tacky Corellas,” he says, and the trail led all the way to the still. Strickland says timing the operation to follow different sections of the trail on different nights was key. “Some of these bootleggers you don’t follow especially if we’re out there at night—silence goes a long way at night….”
To aid in tracking, the ATF used a squad of surveillance planes out of Atlanta,
Laughs Strickland, “He wanted a dang watermelon! So I got up on the truck and threw one down and busted it.” The trooper said, “You s.o.b., I’m going to write you a ticket now!” Strickland changed his attitude. “You get all the watermelons you want,” he told the trooper. To this day it makes the undercover officer laugh. “He wanted a watermelon and there were 4,000 gallons of whiskey rolling!"
Sometimes, says Strickland, agents might not want to catch the moonshiners in the act. “What you’re trying to do,” Strickland says, “is cripple them financially. So that means you catch the cars and the whiskey after they made it. Bleed ’em.”
Strickland says the blazing shootouts of lore were more or less over by mid-century. However, his father, one of the original revenuers from the Prohibition era and material enough for his own story, did kill a man on Hwy 17, roughly where Sam’s Club is now. Jenkins had a gun pulled on him, and in those days the coppers didn’t have bulletproof vests. “You talk about scared, I was scared,” recalls Jenkins. Shamefully he admits, “It was my fault too….I should have handcuffed him.” While escorting the nabbed moonshiner away from the still, he grabbed Jenkins’ gun. “I didn’t know what the hell to do, so I tussled him down and he stuck it [in my belly] and said, ‘If you don’t move, I’m gon’ pull the trigger.’ Well, I knew I had hollow points in there and I hollered like hell [but] two state agents and five federal agents couldn’t even hear a dang thing….” His shouts couldn’t be heard over the furnace blasts heating the vats of mash, which often were gas fueled and created a bit of a racket. Jenkins valued his life over his pride and let the moonshiner scamper off.
Revenuers and lawmen were also known to camp out for several weeks, waiting for suspects to arrive at a still location. Frank Lee says his favorite part of the job involved these solitary stints in the forest that would test his mental toughness. “[I’d] camp out in the woods for days without making any noise.”
Sneaking around in the woods like a redneck ninja, death defying car chases, and busting good ol’ boys and dirty sheriffs composes a particularly Southern way of enforcing the law. Strickland says, “We have a convention that meets every year of retired federal agents, called PATBAR, and all the agents from up north, they don’t have any war stories. I mean, their war stories [are] having a blowout on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. Our war stories are like what you’re hearing now.” And those stories are only prelude to a certain destruction. When an operation concluded, the state mandated that the materials used to make the moonshine be destroyed.
Unlike the fancy pants forensic investigations of television crime drama that catalogue every microscopic detail of a crime, revenuers and federal agents would collect some evidence, snap a few photos and blow the sucker sky high. Most of the time, agents used ditch dynamite, but Strickland was able to get a little more bang for his buck, "In Americus, we'd go over to Fort Benning and draw military explosives. They used TNT and something called Gelamite. We’d draw plastique explosives, C3 and C4."
Jenkins reminisces, “That’s part of history now, moonshine. The older people that dealt with it and drank it, they’re dead just about.” Bond, the old bootlegger, does provide a measure of hope for those still looking to sip on some forbidden liquor. “If you’re from the area [and] in the good ol’ boy network, then you’ll find some.”
CLICK HERE to return to the top of the main section after reading comments below, and/or making your own comment.
Linda, or anyone else do you remember a little girl getting run over by a dump truck on Manchester in front of Hall's grocery? It would have been in the early '50s and I believe she lost a leg and returned to school with a prosthesis. I can't remember her name, someone give me a hint.
Posted by: John Echoff | December 14, 2007 at 01:13 AM
John, I do not remember about the child being killed. I lived on the edge of Pasadena in a little community called Allendale. Maybe some of the Manchester bunch might remember. Linda
Posted by: Linda Little Strickland | December 16, 2007 at 12:38 PM
After you read this article (above) about Linda's husband, THE REVENUER, be sure to check out Ann Herman Beatty's piece (on her bio page) about her Father-in-Law's recollections of similar topics. Both make for fascinating reading of events "back in the day". Karla
Posted by: Moonshine Related Pieces | June 13, 2008 at 11:33 AM
Thank you, Linda, for the kind words. It took me a long time to hunker down and write my bio. After I started looking through old photos, ideas kept popping up in my head. I figured I'd better get down to business while the nostalgia was flowing. For months now, I'd been promising Karla I'd get it done. I've enjoyed reading other postings, too.
What a precious baby, Thomas James. His eyes were open so soon. Olivia didn't open her eyes for at least a week. Of course, she was also two weeks late and would have happily stayed in her comfortable home had it not been for the inducement. You've had quiet a life, yourself. And your husband! My goodness, you should write a book. Take care, Jody
Posted by: Jody Bugg | June 29, 2008 at 09:26 PM
Hi Linda,
Gosh, I've loved reading the things you've written - both here and in response to comments. Your comments about the mental patients: well, thank you for the work you did to help them. They need it!
My ancestors also traveled over from Meridian, Mississippi, after the Civil War. My maternal great-great grandfather, George Reed Beard, and at least one of his sons, fought in that conflict. Then during Reconstruction they moved to Texas, intending to settle in central Texas. However, one of my great-grandmother's daughters died in San Augustine County and that's where they stayed as she couldn't bear to go on and leave her child there "alone." My dad's family came over, too, from Mississippi, but they lingered for awhile in Louisiana and had been in Alabama before that. They were in the Civil War as Texas volunteers.
Posted by: Glenda Burns Minniece | August 06, 2008 at 07:13 AM
Glenda,
Sounds like you have a lot of Civil War history in your family. I can understand why you like the books and have made plans to visit the places of history.
I too love the history of the Civil War. The fight we are in at the present time is like the Civil War in a way...I read some where it was said by our enemy, "wound them, don't try to kill them, it will slow them down". The State of Mississippi spent a large percent of their money on artifcial arms and legs for their soldiers upon return from The War.
I recently bought a Mourning Brooch from Victorian Trading Co. mag. because of my love of Civil War history. "A haunting beautiful pin conjures moody sentiment of soldiers lost in the Civil War. The cross depicts one's belief that their loved one has reached their heavenly reward".
People have told me that standing at the places of battle is an humbling experience, in awe of the amount dead in one battle. We want to hear all about your trip!
Savannah has the history also. As I sit in my car at a red light on Victory Drive, palm trees down the center divide, beautiful flowers among the palm trees, I can see the Northern soldiers under Sherman's command on their March to The Sea. Sherman gave Savannah as a Christmas present to President Lincoln. We were not destroyed like Atlanta or the rest of Georgia....crops, livestock, homes burned; women, old folks and children left to starve. Yes, it was quite a history.. I still have my flag , pride in the South....."I will think about this tomorrow".
My husband Sonny visited the battle sight at Shiloh and stood on the side of a hill and cried. Brothers against brothers, Mason against Mason, American against American, line against line shooting and bayonetting each other with screams of pain and death echoing throughout the battle sight.
As I ponder on history, I hope our government will pull together. America is a great country and it is the people that make it great.
Linda
Posted by: Linda Strickland | August 06, 2008 at 10:37 AM
Very interesting comments about the Civil War, or as my Mother's family referred to it as "The War of Northern Aggression", wonder which side they were for! Actually, I had relatives on both sides, Great Uncles from my Dad's side and a Great Uncle on my Mom's side. One of them died in 1947 and the other in 1949-made for some really interesting family gatherings...
Posted by: John Echoff | August 06, 2008 at 11:35 PM
Hey Linda, you tell Sonny that if a cityfied East End kid like me can do it so can he, recover from heart surgery that is... I underwent a Quad Bypass in December of '87, and a second Quad in Feburary of '07. Doing great, working, traveling and enjoying life! There have been tough days, but it sure beats the alternative, I'm not ready to be listed in the "In Memory" column just yet. If it begins to get him down, depression is to be expected after a traumatic ordeal such as this, tell him to give me a call and we'll swap cop stories, tall tales, or lie about fishing and hunting. I'm usually up by noon (work 9:30pm-05:30am) and my cell phone is the best way to contact me, the #281-914-1086. Don't hesitate to call if he just feels like he needs to talk to someone.
Love your stories, keep 'em coming.
Posted by: John Echoff | August 08, 2008 at 03:32 AM
John,
Thank you for your kind words. Sonny got your number, he will talk your ear off! John you have a way in expressing yourself you crack me up no wonder the herd loves you.
So right about the depression and emotional changes after heart surgery. Many a dollar has been written about the heart. Feelings are expressed and felt like the old song when we were younger,"Zing Went The Strings Of My Heart". It amuses me to hear our classmates talk about their "crushes" while in high school, it was just the strings of their hearts making beautiful happy music and only they could hear and feel it.
My Sonny said after his first heart surgery he would cry if some one had a hangnail after this last surgery he has done better. Wonderful to live in a time of history with the health care we have in our life time.
John I would never have known you have had your heart problems, you are right at our 45th reunion you looked very healthy! Bet that wife of yours has something to do with your glow.
Looking forward to the 50th just know we are going to have a good turnout. Linda
Posted by: Linda Strickland | August 09, 2008 at 11:42 AM
Its great that John and Sonny are
doing fabulous after their heart
problems. Well to bring you up
to date on me, I retired from teaching in May 2007 and now am just running naked thru the woods so to speak - not really, I haven't been able to run for years
2000 since a truck pinned both knees between the bumpers of the vehicles but its fun to walk also.
Maybe I can get on the BLOG more
often now. Got to go for now
Herbert Johns (Herb)
Posted by: Herbert Johns | August 10, 2008 at 03:17 PM
Linda, x-na on the hours, I've been Shanghi'd! Now on the DAY WATCH!!!! Didn't ask, wasn't asked, but here I is... Walked by the elevator lobby and the overhead door for the sallyport was open, almost went blind from the bright light shining thru the door. Tell Sonny he can call anytime, I'm now up at 3:30AM, work from 5:30AM-1:30PM. Been a long time (over 12 yrs) since I was exposed to daylight, 'fraid I might melt or shrivel up, or something horrible like that. And yes, the skin is PALE, REAL PALE - so there!
Posted by: John Echoff | August 17, 2008 at 11:09 AM
Linda has made so many meaningful contributions to the Milby 1960 blog. Here is another - a link to a powerpoint on Galveston Island. Look for it at the top of this page.
This is a great reminder of why Galveston has meant so much to so many of us. Laura McNeil Burns lives in Galveston, in a house that is now almost 100 years old. Maybe she can shed more light on the wonderful old houses featured in the powerpoint. Karla
Posted by: Karla Lofgren Davis | March 07, 2010 at 01:16 PM