Bob Neal

“Roots”. We generally think of roots in terms of salad fixens except for beets. Wouldn’t touch one. Besides, they’ll stain your white shirt. Perhaps we’ve all had the occasion to “pull out our roots”, joyfully paid megabucks for a root canal, or simply use it in discussions pertaining to music, mathematics, material relationships, etc. Of most significance are the “Roots” of our existence and their impact of our presence today. I’ve been encouraged to write on this but will focus only on the visual.

For the first nine months of my life, I lived an extremely sheltered and loved life. And then it happened. My mom told me it was time to face the world and took me to New Hampshire where in short time, some guy grabbed me by the ankles, gave me a whack resulting in my screaming and sobs. No sooner had this guy said welcome to the land of “Live Free or Die” than I was thrown in a basket and taken south of the border to Pepperell Massachusetts. In short time, I found the enjoyment of living in a large farmhouse surrounded by mountains of Sugar Maples, a covered bridge crossing the stream next to our property, many new friends and lots and lots of snow in the winters. It was and still is beautiful.

Within in four years we moved to Houston on Broadway Blvd. I believe there’s a parts store now where our house used to stand. Shortly it was off to Park Place Elementary. On the first day we learned how to color a stop light, eat crosscut buns and take a nap. After 65 years, I’ve pretty much regressed to that level again. I don’t remember the teacher’s names but if any of you guys were in my 1st or 2nd grade class you may remember at recess how we would go gown the hill behind the school amidst piles of rubble and have rock fights. Good times. Started getting established in Park Place, Cub Scouts and fishing at Clear Lake.

Unfortunately, during the 2nd grade, my father died and we moved to Speedway Indiana.
Life during the 3rd and 4th grade took on major changes. Lived a few blocks from the Indy 500, which gave me an exciting place to run around. And then it happened. I discovered girls! A blue-eyed blonde named Sally Kern. What a knockout. She asked me out and scared me to death. I also discovered discrimination. During the summer I’d take the city bus to Indianapolis to play billiards and go swimming at the YMCA. To swim, we’d go to the locker room, strip and jump in naked. Never thought a thing about it till my mom and sister took me to my sisters swimming meet at the YWCA. Talk about excitement. When the girls came in, they had on swimsuits. What a bummer!

Having survived winters blue blizzards of ’52 and ’53 we moved backed to Houston to Pecan Park. Attended Southmayd in Blankship’s 5th grade and Patterson’s 6th grade. New people, new territory and new friends. As I read our Blog, a number of names have come back to mind. Moved to Mason Park while in the 9th grade at Deady. I won’t bore you with my escalades at Milby but to say that I overcame Sally and rediscovered girls. I also discovered NoDose. I along with several other guys from school worked from 9pm to ~4am Wednesday and Saturday nights at the Houston Post. Thursday at school was a wipe out. Following graduation, relationships with strong friendships were severed through their deaths at a very young age or their relocation.

Not having the money or scholarships to attend college, I joined the Coast Guard. For the next four years, I was overseas soaking up some of the greatest experiences in my life. For the first two years I was out at sea, primarily in Antarctica and making multiple visits to New Zealand and Australia with additional travel to locations in the Pacific, Indian, Atlantic and Mediterranean.

Following a short time in Boston, I was asked if I wanted to go to Puerto Rico at the time of the Cuban Missile Crisis. For two years, I answered the call and snorkeled the beaches of Puerto Rico, lived in Old San Juan and forgot about the life and cold winters on the mainland.

Subsequently, I returned to Houston and obtained a couple of degrees at UH while concurrently working at Delta. After having taught for five years at the new Clear Lake HS, teaching Drivers Ed after school and during summers, having three children and bouncing checks each month, I saw the need to find an income which was better than the allowances some of my students were receiving in high school. Yup, another move.

I moved to Oak Ridge Tenn. and for 27 years worked in what was one time a secret city. The original Atomic Bombs were made for the Manhattan Project in Oak Ridge. Nuclear weapons materials are still manufactured and stored at our nations Nuclear Weapons Complex in these facilities. Most of what I did is either sensitive or classified but processes were meaningful, challenging and provided development of relationships domestically and internationally.

During the past 10 years I have used ample vacation, my abilities and a desire to lead mission teams in multiple areas of Mexico, Costa Rica, Alaska, Panama and lead Disaster Relief work following Hurricane Hugo, Andrew, Ivan and most recently throughout the coastline of Mississippi.

Each of these experiences has been a building block and all draw on the value of having good educational instructors, curriculum, peers and an acceptance of educational development at the time. However, what is missing is the significance of deep roots. So often I try to think how life might have been different if I was like some of the people I’ve worked with who have lived in the same hollow or gap all their life. At the same time, I have been blessed with opportunities to see people and places of a different environment and been touched by each of them. What I have written is long yet is only a snapshot and by no means unique.

The 1960 Blog is extremely meaningful to me. It fills in many of the blanks, brings back some of the forgotten memories, and yes, a dream to have had some of the same type of roots as you. If you have taken the time to read through this, get a life. If you have had a good life, join others by noting it in this Blog of history.
>
>
Bob's writing often reveals a great sense of humor. I THINK it is in that humorous vein that he submitted the follow recipe for your holiday cooking (or for your reading pleasure, if you prefer). But he has a serious message, too. Be sure to read past the recipe to that message re "the Big C".
>
>
I am pleased to provide a recipe for fresh kill I prepare during the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays or any other time fresh meat is available. I find that smoking adds flavor and texture somewhat different than the traditional methods of roasting or frying. I hope that it is digestible and pleasing to your unique taste and disposition. I have noted some steps in preparing a fowl bird. If you intend to serve this at a dinner, dependent on the character of your guests, you may elect not to tell them what you are serving, or take the liberty of changing your dinner plans including the entrée and/or your guests… or decide to serve pizza instead.

Smoked Turkey

Meat Find a good selection of fresh road kill. It is exciting to drive about and select the best. If the good stuff is out of season and hard to find, you might lower your standards and buy one of those frozen naked bodies stuffed with neck(s), wire/plastic and a bag of treats for the four legged scavengers prowling around at night outside the door. Take this critter and de-fur, de-feather or de-frost. Scrub down outside and inside, throw out parts not attached and cut off any appendages looking at you. Massage the beast (this adds little effect on the meat but is good for circulation in your hands) with melted butter, liquid smoke, olive oil, tung oil, peanut oil or whatever conditioning is under the sink.

Season Prepare an odiferous mixture of black pepper, salt, garlic powder, red pepper, hickory smoke, paprika, Cajun seasoning and chili peppers. Other dried seeds, flowers, bug and beetles, minerals and peppers may be added for taste. Dust liberally over all areas of your kill, the counter, your clothes and the kitchen floor. This mixture is also a good sneeze stimulate when the pollen count and weeds are not in season.

Stuff If you have previously removed the innards from the carcass, I suggest you stuff it to maintain shape. Throw in apple quarters (preferable fresh, I’ve never tried dried apples) a leg or rib of celery, an onion (any color I guess) and if you want to get adventuresome and add an unmistakable taste, throw in some ramps and garlic.

Smoke Select one of many ways to smoke this animal, i.e. inverted washtub with a hole in the side and top, a fabricated box (cardboard has a short life span and leaves ash - not recommended), drum, old boiler, hole in the ground or go to WalMart or Home Depot and they will gleefully give you one in trade for some plastic.

Torch Set on fire a pile of combustible materials that will both provide smoke, heat and a concern from the neighbors that your house is on fire. If you are of a more delicate nature, don’t use railway ties which contain creosote or old lumber that may have been coated with a lead based paint. Pre-fabricated wood made by Kingsford is ideal. For an aromatic smoke and flavor, add chunks of trees such as hickory, apple, balsa, or pecan. Do not use rubber or pine. A bucket of algae free water should be used in small smokers to maintain a level of moisture during the smoking process.

Time Smoking time depends on how long the smoke smokes and any number of other conditions. It is best to smoke the meat until it is done. Generally 8-12 hrs for a 10-14 pounder, and 12-16 hrs for 14 to 20 pounds. If the creature has stopped breathing and is in a stable solid condition and weighs >18 lbs, I suggest you whack it in half.

Eat Eat it right off the smoker for as long as it lasts. If you are of a different sort and don’t like the taste, return it to the highway. Fresh smoked kill on the highway is hard to find and does not last for long.
>
>
In a previous comment by Bob Neal in the "Current Events" post he told of his confrontation with the "C" word. That narrative now follows:
>
>
The “C” word. A topic lacking the hilarity of memorable events when we were young and spirited although familiar to some us at that time and all of us at this stage of our lives. I have paid insurance premiums since I was 18 and never had a need to experience the care of a physician. No illnesses, broken bones, or significant hangnails. Unfortunately heartbreak and trauma were not covered by my policy. When I was 58, I decided to get a physical, which amounted to little more that what happens to having your car tuned up now days. Except, my PSA was high and further test revealed my Gleason rating was high. I had Prostate Cancer and was advised that of all the types of treatments available, waiting was not an alternative. I chose radical surgery since that appeared to be a sure fire way to eliminate the problem. Subsequent to surgery, the PSA was on the rise again and the following year I recieved radiation treatments. Based on 1998 statistics, I am considered a survivor by now.

Why bring up this topic? I have talked to a number of men our age and am astonished that many appear unaware of their Prostate, screening and the FACT that all men will have Prostate Cancer if they don’t succumb to some other ailimate first. If Prostate Cancer is not detected, it will jump from the Prostate to the bone. In this case, it is sometimes referred to as bone cancer. If caught in time,one of several treatment types can stall or eliminate the cancer. Research has come a long way since 1998 and there are methods today not available 10 years ago.

Again, I bring this up to you men, wives and daughters as an area of concern that has missed the radar in a number of families. Prostate Cancer is silent. Internal and external indicators don’t exist until it is to late. Therefore, encourage your family members to discuss with all male members by their early forties.

The physician who preformed my health checkup easily sensed my alarm at what little the physical covered but on the follow-up visit he let me know that at least the checkup showed one thing. I had cancer!

The American Cancer Society has a great web site and will load you down with excellent free literature. I hope to see you at our 50th reunion.
>
>

Please take the time now to make a comment in response to Bob's biography. You will also enjoy reading the comments that others have left.

CLICK HERE to return to the top of the main section after reading comments below, and/or making your own comment.

Comments

[Charles Simmons]

Hello Bob from your old band buddy Charles Simmons. Your writings or both superb and humorous. I would love to get with you and catch up on old times. My mother (86) sends her greetings. If we can't meet again in this life, I certainly know where we'll spend eternity!

Blessings,
Charles

[Gladys M. (Payne) Bohac]

Hey Bob, you probably don't remember me, but I think we were in Homeroom together at Deady & Milby. I really enjoyed your bio, very interesting and humorous. I love the way you write and tell all of your life experiences. Thanks for sharing your life with us.
See you in 2010.

Gladys Payne Bohac

[Gladys Payne Bohac]

Hey Bob, sorry you missed the reunion this year, it was fantastic. I too was in Mr. McWhirter's homeroom and remember the fun we had in his class. It would have been great seeing you again along with the others that were in our homeroom.

Gladys Payne Bohac

[John Heard]

Bob,

Good to hear from you and to read your terrific bio.
You've had some great adventures and, I suspect, there are more to come. It would be fun to get together to chew, chat and chill sometime. A couple of times a year I drive up the I-75 corridor, through the Knoxville/Oak Ridge area, so I'll resolve to get in touch sometime before one of those journeys. Although I went to Deady for a semester, had to transfer to the newly constructed Hartman Jr. High through the ninth grade. On arriving at Milby I was blown away by the privilege of being in a band with LOW BRASS - - we had only a single trombone at Hartman, nothing else. In any case, I remember being especially impressed when the Milby band had FIVE sousaphones (don't know if all five could play) which, on placing letters over the bells, spelled MILBY! Wow! Then Milby went to Galena Park for a football game and the Galena Park band spelled GALENA PARK with their sousaphones. At least we didn't have quite the same challenge to correctly spell the school name. All that aside, I keenly remember thoroughly enjoying the spirit and exuberance of your playing. Those days with the Milby band were indeed memorable.