Subject: My summer with Nat

It was the summer of 1949 and I was eleven years old. Baton Rouge, La had a population of 110,000.
I lived on the south side of the city where you could ride your bicycle for just a few miles and be
in total wilderness.

Early in June of that year I hopped on my bicycle and started riding south down Perkins Rd. further than at any time before. I reached a point about 10 miles out where the pavement ended and the small dirt road began. It was  called Essen Lane and is now an area of upper middle class homes.

Riding further a couple of miles I saw a slow moving slough on the left side of the road and a skinny coal black kid sitting on a old fallen log right next to the slough.

He had on a pair of torn old dungaree overalls that he had out grown and the cuffs barely reached the top of his ankles. He had no shirt on and his carbon black skin glistened with sweat. He held a short pole of about 6 feet with a string tied to it that entered the water. I saw him pull up a crawfish which hung on a piece of bacon he had tied the string to.

I got of my bicycle and walked the short distance to him and asked, "Wacha doin.?" He replied, "I'm catching sumpen to eat."  

I sat there with Nat for an hour or so and he let me catch a few with his pole. After he had 15 or so of real big beautiful orange crawfish, he built a small fire and put the crawfish in a large quart can and boiled them with the same water from the slough. He shared his feast with me and that began a one summer friendship with Nat.

Nat lived with his mother and a younger sister in one of those tiny Southern shotgun clapboard house with a small front porch. There were about 10 of those same houses side by side and obviously were built by a farmer to house his workers in many years ago when this land was farmed for cotton, but had grown to be nothing but woods with huge hardwood trees.

I would bring my BB gun to Nat's house and we would take off in the woods shooting everything from birds, snakes to rats. I would let him share my BB gun. We would also do a lot of craw fishing as well as fishing in a small lake nearby catching a mess of bream which his mother would prepare for us.

Most days, his mother would feed us cheese and saltine crackers at the small table in the house. It was a sharp cheddar like cheese which she would slice off from a medium size block. It was the best cheese I've ever eaten and to this day, one of the treats I give
myself on a rare occasion is to buy the sharpest cheddar cheese I can find and go to town on it with saltine crackers.

When I do this, my memories come vividly galloping back of sitting at the table with Nat and his mother enjoying that feast.

I spent most days of the week riding my bicycle to play with Nat. He and I were summer buddies. Every now and then I would steal a dollar bill from my mother's purse and give it to Nat so he and his mother could buy some candy or whatever.

Back in 1949 in Louisiana, a white boy and a black boy cavorting together was a big no no and I took a chance doing this because if my father ever found out he would have whipped the dickens out of me.

I was almost caught when my dad found a "will" I had written declaring that if I die my bicycle, BB gun and anything I owned was to go to Nat. He asked me who Nat was and I told him it was just a friend of mine in school.

I believe it was the next year when I attended a boarding school called Gulf Coast Military Academy. I went for a year and the summer after  GCMA I went out to see Nat, but he was gone. His mother told me he left home to look for a job

That fall, my family moved to Albuquerque, NM and we stayed there for two years before my Dad decided he wanted to return to Louisiana.

I was 15 when we returned and one Xmas at my maternal Granpa Mulina's home in Franklinton, La where everyone was supposed to be in a Xmas family reunion and happy, I got into an argument with my Dad because I told him that I didn't think it was right for blacks to have to sit in the back of public busses. Dad had been drinking and the argument went downhill and he jumped on me and began beating me with his fists while he was on top of me. He beat me up really bad---broken nose and two black eyes. One of my uncles told my wife Carmen a few years ago before he died that he had never seen a boy beaten up that bad.

After he had finished with me I told him, crying like hell, that he would have to do this a hundred times as I would always feel the same about blacks  having to sit in the rear of the bus. Well, he didn't beat me up again over this. We had an uneasy truce afterwards. Later on as an adult, I forgave him because he didn't know any better just like 99% of the white people and they were just a victim of the Southern culture we lived in.

Why was I different. I've asked myself that question a thousand times. I've come to the conclusion there are people like me who were born with some innate sense of right and wrong and a keen sense of injustice when you see it. It's like I was always pulling for the underdog. I would go into a rage when I saw a high school fight where the victor would began to kick the vanquished on the ground. I would charge through the crowd and grab the kicking guy and vanquish him. Of all the guys I've detested are the ones who in a verbal argument sucker punch the other guy. I consider them immoral with no sense of fair play. I felt the same way about bullies.

Now having written the above, I have to confess that at times I conformed with my friends about their hate for blacks growing up in the south. Not overtly, but failing to disagree with them when maybe I should have. I conformed because if I would begin telling them that I thought segregation was wrong and immoral, hell, I wouldn't have had any friends. So, I would keep my mouth shut and let them rant.

As a kid, I had many black encounters where we were friends. I remember the black grocery store delivery boy who let me ride the store's  Cushman motor scooter at times. I remember well the elderly black man who worked on my motorbike at his shotgun house. He would be sitting on a pail with the ever present stogie in his mouth and we would talk about all kinds of things while he was working. He showed me how to pull the flywheel off and set the points and replace the condenser. He never charged me more than 2 dollars. I remember fishing many summers in the LSU lake side by side with a big black mammy or some older black guy where we would talk about everything under the sun.

My sister and I were practically raised by a black lady named Mabel Broussard. Mabel was a live in Nanny during the week because both my parents worked. My sister and I loved Mabel and she was like my second mother. I still remember sitting on her lap and her telling us stories about Voodoo occurrences.
In her shotgun house she had snakes, frogs and spiders in jars filled with alcohol. She used them in her voodoo religous rites. When she died when I was about 10 years old I cried my heart out. She never spanked us as that was forbidden. But, I deserved spanking believe you me. When we were out in the
yard, I would turn the water hose on her when she wanted me to come back in the house.

Way down on Chartres St. in the black area of New Orleans there was a nightclub with a small red light announcing it. It had no name.  It was owned by a big fat Cuban black lady and she had nothing but Cuban music on the jukebox. I was 25 years old and the only white guy in this place which would fill up on the weekends. I would dance with many black women and I never ever once had a problem or a
bad encounter. They knew I loved Cuban music and love to dance it. (I don't know as I would do that now though)

In any case, I guess I was born without prejudice and accepted those who treated me decently. Yes, there have been blacks I didn't like. Yes, there have been Southern rednecks I didn't like. Yes, there have been Yankees I didn't like and yes there have been Latin Americans I didn't like. But, the dislike has always been determined in how they treated me.

I wanted to write this and get it off my chest as early in the morning I was watching a PBS documentary about Mark Twain's Huckleberry Finn and how he caught so much hate writing about a white boy with a black guy named Jim going down the Mississippi river on a raft. His book was censured in many
libraries.

Mark Twain wrote that he was going to end the book by having Huck Finn reveal the location of Jim to Jim's slave owner. But, in worrying about this ending for days, he decided not reveal Jim's location and Twain said to himself, I'll just go to hell for ending the book that way..

Twain's book is famous for revealing the first time that a Negro was a thinking and hurting individual who was capable of deep emotion and not some field slave who could not feel.

Incidentally, Mark Twain was an atheist like myself. I love his answer to a reporter who asked him if he, being an atheist, was worried where he was going after he died. He answered, "Not at all. I was there millions of years before I was born."

Bob White
August 4th, 2014

You've Come a Long Way Babe

Yeah, you've come a long way babe!

Since, August 26th is fast approaching, I thought it would be entirely right to write an article on Women and their struggle for equal rights.

Their struggle has been extremely hard and long going back for thousands of years. I'm pushing 72 years old and have a daughter and

would like her to have every benefit and right that I enjoyed in my lifetime.

It has been only 90 years since the 19th Amendment was passed on August 16, 1920. Neither of my grandmothers could vote until then.

It's amazing when you realize how recent it has been since women obtained this simple right to vote in the U.S.

Some of you younger women do not know the fight that women have waged over the years for women's rights. You are the beneficiary of their

hard won gains against men who they had to fight and claw every inch of the way.

Women's deference to man has been imbedded in religion and culture for thousands of years and is still embedded in this day and age as

witness the latest Papal encyclical equating condemning pedofilia with condemning ordination of women priests in the same papal pronouncement thus

putting them on the same sin level. The Pope has received a lot of blow back from this by women's rights groups and rightly so.

Even today Mormons practise polygamy in many towns out west even though the church condemned it in order to become a state. The US government

would not annex Utah until the church renounced this practise. If you go to towns such as Logan, Utah where I've been, you'll discover that

most of the local political leaders such as mayor and sheriff openly practise polygamy. This is true all in small towns all over Utah, Wyoming and Idaho.

Polygamy was justified by Mormon's founder Joseph Smith on authority from the Bible, namely the old Testament where many of the ancient figures

in it had multiple wives. This is the same as many modern Muslims being in accordance with the Koran in having multiple wives.

Basically, religion treated women as property.

The three monotheistic religions of Christianity, Islam and Judaism which arose from the same Book of Abraham(The First Testament) have

enshrined in them women's deference to man. Since our citizens are primarily Christians, I'll confine my words to them. We know how fundamental Muslims

treat their women. They are about 500 years behind us such as in our time in Europe's middle ages where superstition, ignorance and terror were the norm.

We're all familiar with Witches of Salem occurring in the US in the late 1600's. Religious extremest men would deem women whom they deemed to

practice witchcraft. So if a women suffered from dementia, epilepsy etc, they would be accused of being infected by the devil and would be burned

at the stake. Yes, it happened on US soil. However, this was a carryover from the European middle ages where burning witches at the stake

was common in all European countries for 300 years and thousands of innocent women suffered this fate.

When I was a kid and would go spend the summer with my grandparents in the small town of Franklinton, Louisiana I witnessed how the fundamental

Christians treated their women. The women would have their hair in a bun, no make up , head covered with long dresses. These were Pentecostals or

as my grandpa would call them "Bible Thumpers." The women would always walk behind the men. My grandfather was sheriff and on Saturday on

the courthouse lawn, he would listen people who had gripes or needed his help. As a 12 year old I noticed the man would talk and the women would

stand back. When my grandfather would ask the wife for more explanation that her husband had told my grandfather, the women would look at

her husband in askance and he would nod yes or no for permission to speak. This was not unique to Louisiana. It was common in the rural south.

Why were women treated this way. Simple, they were religious Christians who followed the Bible.

The First Testament is clear on the subject:

Wives must submit to their husbands "in every thing" as though they were Christ. "For the husband is the head of the wife." Persians:22-

"Men are superior to women since Adam was made before, and sinned after, Eve. But even though women are inferior to men, they shouldn't be discouraged because they shall "be saved in childbearing." Timothy2:14-15

"Let the woman learn in silence with all subjection. But I suffer not a woman to teach, nor to usurp authority over the man, but to be in silence."Timothy 2:11-12

Women are to dress modestly, "with shamefacedness" -- "not with braided hair, or gold, or pearls, or costly array." Timothy 2:9

But I would have you know, that the head of every man is Christ; and the head of the woman is the man; and the head of Christ is God.Corinthians 11:3

But every woman that prayeth or prophesieth with her head uncovered dishonoureth her head: for that is even all one as if she were shaven. Corinthians 11:5

For if the woman be not covered, let her also be shorn: but if it be a shame for a woman to be shorn or shaven, let her be covered.Corinthians 11:6

In the last days, "silly women" who are "ever learning" will be "led away with divers lusts." 3:6-7 Timothy

Only 144,000 celibate men will be saved. (Those who were not "defiled with women.") 14:1-4 Revelations

Throughout all parts of the Bible, you can find passages replete with treating women badly due to them being essentially evil, causing men to become lustful,

tempting them, being untrustworthy and conniving(ie Samson and Delilah. The Bible treats them as baby makers.

This ethos has not left modern culture entirely. It is hidden to some degree except for the last month's decree of the Catholic Church re ordination of

women priests and the Mormon Polygamy situation.

But, it is part of our culture which has been influenced by religion and has been very difficult to overcome.

Smart and agressive women have been fighting to overcome this for many years culminating with Susan B. Anthony and her friends getting the 19th amendment

passed.

Well, that was a start. Then modern feminist like Betty Friedan pushed for being treated more equally with her book "The Feminist Mystique."

People like Gloria Steinem who pushed extremely hard for equal rights at every opportunity which earned her the name of a "FemNazi" by Rush Limbaugh.

There are to many smart and aggressive women to mention who in the last century have brought about a sea change in women's rights and every single

one of you females owes them a great debt.

Conservative men and a few conservative women have fought equal rights. But the fight has not been successful because as America has morphed into

modernity, culture changes. As the Muslim countries march into modernity, they will change also. There are Arab Muslim feminist talking out as we speak.

In conclusion, I decided to pen this writing due to the fact that the notion hit me that this month of August celebrates two happenings re women's rights.

A women named Kagan has been appointed to the Supreme Court and will become the third woman on the court and it was 90 years ago that

women acquired the right to vote. You have to thank President Reagan for the first women named and President Obama who named two within

a year.

Just think Sandra Day O'Connor was the first female appointed and this was in 1981. So your numbers have risen to three in just 29 years.

Yeah, you've come a long way babe and don't forget to give thanks to the feminist (some men also) who worked over the years for gender equality.

Below is a timeline I researched this Saturday afternoon reflecting the various laws enacted in acquiring gender equity.

I hope everyone enjoys this article and has learned a little about the situation.

Bob White

August 7, 2010

19th Amendment passed in August 26, 1920 "The right of citizens of the United States to vote shall not be denied or abridged by the United States or by any state on account of sex."

1937 The U.S. Supreme Court upholds Washington state’s minimum wage laws for women.

The Equal Pay Act of 1963 required equal wages for men and women doing equal work

In 1964 Congress passed Public Law 82-352 (78 Stat. 241). The provisions of this civil rights act forbade discrimination on the basis of sex as well as race in hiring, promoting, and firing

1971 Phillips v. Martin Marietta Corporation, 400 U.S. 542 (1971): The U.S. Supreme Court outlaws the practice of private employers refusing to hire women with pre-school children.

Supreme Court gave women power over their own bodies with Roe vrs. Wade decision in 1973.

1974 Housing discrimination on the basis of sex and credit discrimination against women are outlawed by Congress

1975 Taylor v. Louisiana, 419 U.S. 522 (1975), denies states the right to exclude women from juries.

1978 The Pregnancy Discrimination Act bans employment discrimination against pregnant women.

1981 The U.S. Supreme Court rules that excluding women from the draft is constitutional.

Kirchberg v. Feenstra, 450 U.S. 455, 459-60 (1981), overturns state laws designating a husband “head and master” with unilateral control of property owned jointly with his wife.

1984 In Roberts v. U.S. Jaycees, 468 U.S. 609 (1984), sex discrimination in membership policies of organizations, such as the Jaycees, is forbidden by the Supreme Court, opening many previously all-male organizations (Jaycees, Kiwanis, Rotary, Lions) to women.

Hishon v. King and Spaulding, 467 U.S. 69 (1984): The U.S. Supreme Court rules that law firms may not discriminate on the basis of sex in promoting lawyers to partnership positions.

1994--The Violence Against Women Act funds services for victims of rape and domestic violence, allows women to seek civil rights remedies for gender-related crimes, provides training to increase police and court officials’ sensitivity and a national 24-hour hotline for battered women.

1996 United States v. Virginia, 518 U.S. 515 (1996), affirms that the male-only admissions policy of the state-supported Virginia Military Institute violates the Fourteenth Amendment.

1997 Elaborating on Title IX, the Supreme Court rules that college athletics programs must actively involve roughly equal numbers of men and women to qualify for federal support.

My Servi-Cycle

I traded my Doodlebug motorscooter and a few dollars that I gleaned from helping an older guy deliver newspapers in his Cushman

motorscooter with a side car for a Servi-cycle. I would help in folding the newspapers and later I would ride in the sidecar throwing out the newspapers and he would pay me about 25% of the gross that he earned. I don't think they fold newspapers in a triangle anymore.

Anyway, I acquired the Servi-cycle. It was the direct drive model and had no clutch. In other words the belt ran directly from the drive shaft

to the rear wheels. To start it, there was a compression release lever mounted on the handle bars. You had to run with it holding the

compression release and when it began to fire you had to jump on it. Yes, my friends. Each and every damn stop you made you had

to repeat that procedure. If you were out of shape, you were screwed.

I've often thought about the Simplex Company who made this dinosaur. Hey, we're talking about ancient technology in the fifties.

It was a simple vertical two cycle one cylinder engine with a flywheel. No battery was required as it ran off a magneto. The tank held two gallons

of gas and as a rule of thumb we mixed a six ounce coke bottle with oil and added it to the gas.

This company was stuck in 1920's engine technology. It never progressed and eventually bit the dust.

Mine was constantly breaking down and I would bring it to an elderly black man who always had a stub of a cigar

in his mouth. The gentleman was located in that part of Baton Rouge termed "Nigger Town." That's just the

way it was in the later forties and early fifties. He always managed to get me up and running and would charge me

a buck or two. The points and condenser were located behind the flywheel and that was a job in of itself to remove.

I can still see myself sitting on a large paint can next to him as he was working on the engine and smelling the cigar he

always had in his mouth. If I had to guess his age now, I would say he would be around 70 at that time.

My Servi-cycle would do only about 30 mph. There were some of my friends who could do 45 mph on their. I often thought

that it was my dad who talked to the old black man to fix it so I couldn't do more than 30 mph. Who knows? It would really

piss me off that a little Cushman Highlander could out run me on the straightaways. But, I could make it up on the curves as

I knew no fear and they would slow down and I kept going wide open.

I witness this all the time even today. Just last summer, Carmen and I were leaving a town in South Dakota on my Harley.

I was cruising along about 80 mph on cruise control on the straights. This guy buzzed by us and at each and every turn in the highway

he would slow down and I would catch him and pass him and so on. I never altered speed, but he was afraid of curves

and would slow down. In my years of riding this is not uncommon. Most riders are brave on the straights but scared

like hell on the curves. This is especially true in the mountains.

I vividly remember riding in a group of Servi-cycles and Cushmans when we were about 12 years old. It was a thrill

when about five of us were tearing through the streets of Baton Rouge late at night. We were the wild ones long before

Marlon Brando.

I had it a couple of years and later acquired a Harley 125cc two stroke.

That's another story.

bob

PS Just going through the history of my bikes. Below is the history of the damn Servicycle.

HISTORY

Information source: Simplex Servi-Cycle: America's Premier Lightweight Motorcycle, by Gary L. Wollard
Simplex was the brainchild of J. Paul Treen, a Harley Davidson dealer in Baton Rouge, Louisiana in the early 1930's who recognized a need for a small, lightweight motorcycle. After developing several prototypes, Treen started production in 1935, producing twelve to fifteen units a week. Over the years Simplex added more space and air-conditioned the entire production facility in 1944, making it one of the most up-to-date manufacturing concerns of the time. Music was broadcast at short intervals during the work day. Several articles have been published regarding Treen's ability to prove the South a viable production location.

The basic Simplex design changed little over its twenty five year life span. The first models were "direct drive", with a belt running from the end of the crankshaft directly to the rear wheel. Starting was accomplished by straddling the machine and taking a few brisk steps. The motion of the rear wheel turned the motor over, and you were on your way. A rocker clutch pedal was added in 1941, and the Automatic model was introduced in 1953. Along the way, other upgrades were incorporated, including a kick starter, magneto-driven lighting, and more. There were also several three-wheel trucks, used mostly by delivery services. The company stopped building the Servi-Cycle style models in 1960, and later produced scooters, go karts, and lawn mowers, powered by proprietary engines rather than their own.

More detailed history on each model can be found on the Model History pages.

My Doodlebug Motorscooter

I, from a very early age, dreamed about a Doodlebug motor scooter.

There was never a night or day that I didn't fantasize about it.

My dad owned a bar named Bob White Silver Dollar Bar on

N. Boulevard in Baton Rouge. A couple of blocks down the street

was the Jolly Inn Bar owned by Sicilian Immigrants named the

Jolly Inn Bar. Russell Barcelona was the son and he was my age.

His parents had bought him one. I would ride my bicycle down there

and Russell would let me ride his Doodlebug. I was in heaven.

When I would go to City Park swimming pool, I would see Russell

there with his scooter. All the kids would be gathered around he and

his scooter as if he was a rock star. Hey, I'm talking 10 to 12 years

old.

I bugged my Dad incessantly about buying me a Doodlebug.

Finally he did. It was a used one without breaks and he paid

$60. I will never forget the night the seller brought it over to our home.

I hopped on it and was transported to another world. I remember the seller

said that there was a wire running to the carburetor that if you

pull it, it will give you a little more speed. He was right.

The normal top speed was 20 mph but the wire pulling would

get it up to 25 mph.

Since it didn't have breaks as the drums were worn out, I used

the kill switch and my feet to stop it. Naturally, you developed

anticipation of what you had to do long before you had to

do it.

I rode that Doodlebug all over Baton Rouge. In those times, you

didn't need a license plate or headlights , etc. Day and night I rode

it.

I clearly remember leaving my friend James Robertson's house on

Cloverdale Ave. and the front axle breaking causing me to go over

the scooter and rolling front to back. Thank goodness I learned to

protect myself from so many rough games in grammar school. I

was scraped up from arms to legs and bleeding like a pig.

I remember going to the sixth grade class and coming up real fast

in front of a lot of students and sliding the scooter up to where I

I parked it. I felt like a rock star. No one else had a motorized

conveyance in grammar school.

Later on, I traded the Doodlebug for a Servicycle which is

another story.

Below is a photo of an exact replica of my Doodlebug.

It was my first love and left an indelible imprint on my mind.

Bob

Reasons to Write

Just thinking again.

There are other reasons to write besides wealth, fame or political activism. Writing as a medium of exploration and inquiry has its own reason for existing, its own rewards. Surely a writer needs readers and cannot forever write in a vacuum only for himself. But the exercise of language as a medium of thinking and experience exists for its own sake and does not require rewards of a material nature. The pursuit of truth is its own reward as the practice of any art can be its own reward. Instead of accepting the limits of the fishbowl of thought, one can allow thought to take wing and follow it anywhere it may go. And though one's body may be imprisoned, one's spirit may soar.

So there is writing as a means of financial security and recognition, writing as a force for social change, and there is the pursuit of the exercise for the sake of the art, for the exploration of the human spirit. The latter does not mean writing only for oneself. The act of writing presumes a reader, though it may be far removed in time and place from the writer. But like a sculptor or a painter or an athlete, a writer can draw great pleasure from the exercise of the medium itself, from the practice of the art.

I refuse to give up the integrity of my own mind and march in lockstep with the mediated masses and will always
attempt to view the vox populi from all angles, distances, color, shapes, hues

Let whoever wants to read what I write and what I've written and to delete if they so please.  It's the act of
writing that I'm really interested in. It forces me to actually think and since I'm basically lazy, writing is a form of
exercise to counter my laziness.

bob

Idle Thoughts on the Well Trained Consumer

Ya know, I've been thinkin'.  I'm a thinkin' man ya know.

Just a few thoughts on our no money down culture.

Hey, what a country we live in. Why you don't need money or good credit to indulge yourself
by shopping till you drop. We are a country of well trained consumers and now you don't
need to have any money to do it.

"No-money-down furniture, no payment for three years!" Yeah, three years later you owe
$30,000 on $7,000 worth of furniture. Don't worry, the finance company will let you pay
it off at 24% interest in a 4% inflationary economy.

No money down for big screen TVs, cars, boats etc. Yeah, no money down on a car that
your finance for 72 months. Hell, after 3 years of payments , you owe more money
on the car than it's worth. Even though you would have to come up with money to
sell it to a private buyer, don't worry because you can trade it in and get the finance company
to finance your negative equity plus get a new car.  Isn't that grand?

I've figured out that people with no money will buy anything. They are so well trained
to buy stuff they don't need with money they don't have. These well trained buyers are becoming
bipolar. When they buy the stuff, they're happy for a week or two. Then the monthly bill comes
in and the become unhappy. Then , in order to be happy again, they go out and buy again and so
goes the cycle of mental ups and downs.  Truly bipolar.

Don't you just love the way the credit card companies suck the dumb downed in on their scam.
You go out and charge $2,000 and at the end of the month they say you owe the minimal payment
of $19. The idiot doesn't realize that even if he never charged again on his card, the amount he
owes will increase astronomically with 18 to 24 percent these robber barons charge.

Which brings me to the present problem of sub-prime loans. The inarticulate, uneducated,
dumb person without a job, bad credit and no money has been able to buy a home and furnish
it at the same time with a liar loan that some crooked mortgage broker filled in the application
because the idiot couldn't fill out or understand a loan application.  The closing costs were even
included in the loan for the home that was worth a lot more than it really was due to a dishonest
appraiser on the payroll of the home builder and whom the home builder had a relationship
with Slippery Sam's Mortgage Company.

Then these loans were packaged and the brilliant Wall Street executives who are and were
making millions in salaries and commissions while heading up Hedge Funds
bought these packages. Now the whole scam has come crashing down but everyone
along this sad tale of transactions got their piece of the pie in commissions and kickbacks
and the poor sucker who acquired the home had a chance to enjoy the wonder American
experience of living in a nice home before it was foreclosed on and now our tax money
or rather our borrowed money from China, Germany, Russia, Japan, etc is now bailing
out the last ones to hold the debt.

What a great way to do business. Only in America.

Remember the ads: No money no problem, bankruptcy OK, credit shot OK, zero down
no payment for 12 months. etc

The average American has forgotten how to get ahead in life.

There used to be a stigma for taking bankruptcy. You took pride in your signature. You took pride
in keeping a good credit score. You never incurred credit card debt because you paid
all you charged at the end of the month and you only used the card to the extent that you
could pay if off each month.

Generally you didn't buy "toys" unless you could pay cash that you had saved up for.
You always tried to save and invest at least 10% of your income each year. You always have a
rainy day fund. But the most important trait of people who get ahead in life is
they defer gratification.

Would it be too much for the average Joe and Mary to ask themselves the most important
financial question , "Do I really need that stuff that the ad bombardment is saying
I need?"

I'm through thinkin' now.

Bob

Rememberances of My Youth

My Moments of Remembrances From Age 6 to 14 during Springtime and Summer in South Louisiana

The smell of jasmine, orange blossoms, magnolias and honeysuckle. It was aroma therapy for sure.

Seeing the big breasted Robins return.

Going barefooted for 5 months causing the soles of your feet to harden and you could run barefoot over a gravel road.

Swimming in the crystal clear Bogue Chitto river naked with both whites and blacks.

Stealing flares from parked railroad cars. I was caught and brought before the Juvenile authorities who only warned me.

Always sleeping by an open window with the attic fan drawing in air.

Listening after school to Inner Sanctum, The Fat Man, Sky King.

Catching green back turtles and selling them to the Post cereal guy who came around every Friday.

Rising at dawn to go to the lake a block away and cast my arm off using a jitterbug lure and occasionally catching a bass.

Setting my 3 muskrat traps at the lake's edge and never catching one.

Getting a dollar every Saturday from my parents. Catching the bus downtown for 5 cents each way. Going to the movies for 15 cents.
Eating a candy bar in the movies for 5 cents. Afterward, going to Sip and Nip cafe and having a hamburger and malted milk 40 cents.
Afterward, going by the newsstand and buying a comic book for 10 cents. When I got home, I still had 25 cents left over.

Riding on my Doodlebug motor scooter and later my Servi-Cycle.

Big bream and Sac a Lait(crappie) would bed in the early spring and I would catch a mess with a cane pole using worms or crickets.

Running all over the lake with my 14 ft. Thompson boat and five hp Royal outboard.

Using my boat to go to the island in the lake and camping out.

Taking my 22 rifle on the crossbars of my bike and riding to the swamps below the lake spillway and shooting anything that moved.

When the lake rose from the rains, going to the spillway and catching large shad with my hands like a bear catches salmon.

Shooting gar fish from the bridge over the spillway with my 22 rifle. They would come up to roll.

Riding my bike for miles and miles exploring.

Riding my bike 10 miles down Perkins road to my black friend Nat's little wooden shack where his mother would feed us cheese and crackers.

Catching crawfish with a piece of bacon tied to a string. Boiling the crawfish right there in a soup can and eating them.

Riding my bike over every inch and cranny of the large LSU campus and especially loving the building that housed the fossil displays.

Selling soft drinks in the stands of LSU football games, basketball and Boxing. I made good money.

Killing more birds than I care to remember with my Red Rider BB gun.

Building tree houses. How I never fell is beyond me.

Washing glasses and opening oysters in my Dad's Silver Dollar Bar and Lounge.

Watching people lose their paychecks in the slot and pinball machines in my Dad's bar. Due to that, I never put a dime into a slot machine.

No TV and no air conditioning. We didn't sit for long and were always active outdoors.

Catching flying squirrels in a trap and domesticating them to be friendly pets.

Catching baby raccoons and doing the same. I had one I named Bill that followed me around.

Spending two weeks every summer at Camp Cherokee or Camp Windywood swimming, horseback riding and just having fun.

Oh yes, I got a 20 gauge single shot Harrington and Richardson shot gun for my 12th birthday. No animal or bird life was safe from me.

My parents pretty much left me to my own devices and I was really free to enjoy a Huckleberry Finn type of youth.
I wish more kids today could have enjoyed a childhood like mine. Not any more with Helicopter parents watching over them.
It's hard to imagine parents letting their kids having this freedom much less letting them run around with a rifle or a shotgun.

Contrasting that with today and it was two different worlds completely.

Bob White