"airplane building stuff"

If you are interested, I have another blog entitled Building the BD-4.

It is located here: http://building-the-bdfour.blogspot.com/

This is a finished BD-4.

I ran across this amazing picture of a guy trying to restart his airplane by hand-propping it!  FYI, a lot of smaller airplanes don't have starters or even batteries sometimes. Amazing....

Grave Records (Hicks side of the family)

My grandparents, Lorie Ted Hicks and Anna Lee Hicks (Offutt was her maiden name; one distant relative on this side of the family had Offutt Air Force Base named after him, by the way) are buried at Smith-Morgan Cemetery a few miles away from Ebenezer Cemetery where the Smith relatives are buried.  It is named for Washington B. Smith, a wealthy landowner (with 7000+ acres of land pre-Civil War and also a slave owner) who was a relative but NOT on the Smith side but rather the Hicks side.

There are lots of Offutts buried in Smith-Morgan.  Here is the headstone of my grandmother's brother Hughie and his wife; he was killed in a car wreck before my time. Mama (our name for Grandmother Hicks) told me about it once and she was still very sad in the retelling of it.

<<Click on the pictures to enlarge and see more detail>>

 Here are a couple of headstones of relatives I know nothing about; one was a 3 year old child and the other a veteran of World War II:

Gina, Kristie, Mother and I took a trip to Arkansas in 2008 to visit the cemeteries  Here is Mother looking on the grave of her parents....she didn't know the pictures were taken.  She was battling lung cancer when this was taken; remarkably, she recovered from it.

My grandparents were both very remarkable people. "Ted", as we called him, was a very gentle, kind and intelligent man who loved music and composed some that he sent to the then-popular Tennessee Ernie Ford radio show (this was way before television).  Ted also was an inventor who developed some sort of mechanism that held up a single bottom plow so that the man who walked behind it didn't have to fight it to keep it upright.  When money was needed, he would make one or two of them and go to town where he could sell them for a few dollars cash---hard to come by on little farms in south Arkansas during the depression era.  He was also a carpenter and built a beautiful walnut table out of a walnut free he chopped down in the woods; after hitching the log to a mule team, he dragged it to an old steam powered sawmill who cut it into lumber for him.  The table is hand carved and pegged together with hand-whittled pegs.  I remember crawling around under that table when I was a toddler as it sat in Mama and Ted's front little room of their two room apartment in Pine Bluff.  He also made a "crooked leg table" as Mama called it by taking a crooked limb off of a tree and somehow splitting it into four identical legs which he then arranged around a circular top--it is a very unusual and interesting old piece which I still have.  One of my strongest memories of Ted was of him sitting in a rocking chair reading his Bible.  He did this very often and I can picture it vividly today.  As I said, he was a kind and easy-going man with a personality much like my own mother's.

Mama (or "Old Mama" as we called her once my own children Jeff and Dan were alive) was VERY MUCH LIKE "Granny" off the Beverly Hillbillies TV show.  She was very similar in size and was very healthy and spry into her 80's.  Mama had a germ phobia and believe me, her house was always extremely clean.  She would climb up in a chair and knock any spiderwebs down out of the corners from the 10 foot ceilings in their old apartment!  She was a simple woman who dipped snuff (a common habit of women from that time and place!) and who really loved me.  She would often "brag" about me, about how good looking or smart I was; what she was really doing was simply building me up so to speak, a kind and loving thing to do. When Ted had a series of strokes and essentially became almost a vegetable, she sat by his bed everyday for 4 years or so until he died.  She was terrified of lightning storms, even until her own death at 90 plus years of age.

This stone is that of her parents:

I vaguely remember her father ("Papa", she called him).  He lived on a small farm in south Arkansas and was very tall, slender and dignified.  I remember him sitting in front of an old open hearth fireplace at the farmhouse in a rocking chair, quietly looking at the fire.  At this time, he would have been at least 90 and I was a little kid....

There are some really big trees down there in south Arkansas.  Here is one near their graves.

In this same cemetery, there is a very sad thing.  To your left as you walk in, there are several graves in a row, of varying ages but the date of death is very close to being the same.  These graves are those of many of the victims of Ronald Gene Simmons who essentially murdered his entire family and several other people--16 all together-- over several days around Christmas in 1987.  The whole awful story is here:


Just before Christmas 1987, Russellville, Arkansas, Ronald Gene Simmons made a conscious decision to kill all the members of his family. On the morning of 22 December he first bludgeoned and shot his son Gene and his long-suffering wife Rebecca; then he strangled his three-year-old daughter Barbara. After having a beer, Simmons dumped the bodies in the cesspit he had made his children dig. Now Simmons sat back and awaited the return of his other children. When they arrived off the bus he said he had presents for them but wanted to give them one at a time. First to receive her ‘gift’ was eldest daughter, seventeen-year-old Loretta, who Simmons strangled and held under the water in the rain barrel. The three other children, Eddy, Marianne and Becky were dispatched in a similarly callous manner.
Around midday on 26 December, the remaining members of the family arrived for their planned Christmas visit; it was to be their last Christmas. The first to die was Simmons’ son Billy and daughter-in-law Renata, both shot dead; then his grandson Trae was strangled and drowned; then daughter Sheila and her husband Dennis McNulty were shot. Ronald Simmons’ child by his own daughter, christened Sylvia Gail, was strangled, and finally grandson Michael. Simmons laid the bodies of his whole family in neat rows in the lounge. All the corpses were covered with coats except that of Sheila, who was laid in state covered by Mrs Simmons’ best tablecloth. The bodies of the two grandsons were wrapped in plastic sheeting and left in abandoned cars at the end of the lane. After popping out for a drink in a local bar Simmons returned to the house and, apparently oblivious of the corpses lined up around him, spent the next two nights and the Sunday drinking beer and watching television.
On the Monday morning Ronald Simmons drove into Russellville and at a law office shot dead a young woman named Kathy Kendrick, who for some reason he blamed for many of his problems. Next stop on his murderous tour was an oil company office where Simmons shot dead a man named J.D Chaffin and wounded the owner. He then drove on to a store where he shot and wounded two more people. Now on to another office where he shot and wounded a woman. And that was the end of his killing spree. Simmons simply sat in the office and chatted to one of the secretaries while waiting for the police. When they arrived he handed over his gun and surrendered without any resistance.
Simmons was charged with sixteen counts of murder, found guilty and sentenced to death. On 31 May Arkansas governor (later president) Bill Clinton signed Simmons execution warrant, and on 25 June 1990 he died, as he had chosen to do, by lethal injection.

If anyone doubts the presence of total and Satanic evil in this world, consider what Simmons wrote:

"You have destroyed me, and you have destroyed my trust in you . . . I will see you in Hell." (Taken from a letter written to his daughter after she reported him for molesting her.)


It is a bitter thing to stand by those graves.


Outside the cemetery, there is a little open area with several large pine trees where family reunions were held that I remember attending as a child.  They were pot-luck affairs with lots of food and mostly a lot of adults who I really didn't know very well.  It seems like nearly all of them would come up to me and say, "Well, you are little Jay!  How much you have grown!!"  It is a pleasant memory.  It is though provoking to consider that nearly all of the folks that would have been at those reunions have passed into the next life by now. On our visit there in 2008 with Mother, , Gina, and Kristie, I saw one of those old trees, now cut down, with new life springing out of it.  It seems a fitting way to end this post:

An extensive family history from Kristie on the "Hicks Side"

In discussing some of the information in the "Graves" post in this blog, Kristie shared this fascinating family history on the other (Hicks) side of the family.  Much of this was received from John Offutt......I colored some of the more interesting infomration.


Mary Louise Hicks b 3 Nov 1918 in New Edinburg Ar; m Sebern Joseph Smith Jr, known as S.J,  b 20 May 1917 in Fordyce Ar. S.J. was the son of Sebern Joseph Smith b1876 d1935 and Thyra Gray Smith b 1880 (to Elisha Gray 1851-1902 and Susan Ann Gray 1860-1894); d 1962. Sebern Joseph was the son of William Joseph Smith b11 Oct 1838 in Montgomery Al, d 11 Sept 1902 and Mary Rosa Sutton wife was alsoMartha Dean Aug 5 1847- May 8 1898--2nd wife?). William Joseph Smith was a Civil War veteran.  S.J. died 1 Nov 1989 and is buried in Ebenezer Cemetery, near Fordyce Ar. S.J. and Mary had five children: Sebern Joseph III (Joe), Larry Olson, Sharon Ann, Jay Everett, and Kristie Lynn. 
Mary is the daughter of:
.
Anna Lee Offutt b 28 Jan 1893 near New Edinburg Ar, d 28 Aug 1983, buried in Smith-Morgan Cemetery;  m 8 Feb 1917 to Lorie Ted Hicks b 28 May 1890 near Mt Lebanon Ar, d 1 Dec 1972, buried in Smith Morgan Cemetery. As a young woman Annie played the fiddle in a washtub band and Ted was known as a talented carpenter and inventor. Ted was born to Louis and Nina Hicks, buried in Mt Lebanan Cemetery. Louis, who considered himself a "lay doctor", gave Nina, who suffered from migraines, too much medication one day and she died. His second wife was a widow with five daughters, --Cox. Three of Louis' sons married three of her daughters. Ted and Annie had three children: Mary Louise, Barbara Nell, and Harold Ted. 
Annie was the daughter of:

Generation 1    John Craven Offutt, Jr, b 18 May 1870 in Chulahoma, Ms d 24 Jun 1962, buried in Smith-Morgan Cemetery; m in 1892 to Sallie Louise Mosley b 18 Nov 1868 in New Edinburg Ar, d 17 Feb 1947; buried at Smith- Morgan Cemetery. They had six children: Annie, Hughie (killed in a car wreck in the 1930s) , Maude, Olsen, Johnnie Mae, and Paul. There was also a set of twins, DOB unknown, who died and were buried in their back yard. Sallie was the daughter of Washington Nathaniel (Nat) Mosley, known as "Gran'pa Mosley", b 21 Sept 1840, d 22 Oct 1913, and Martha Smith, b 20 Jan 1839, d 2 Apr 1915, daughter of Washington B Smith (1802-1865) and Fanny Reeves (1806-1847). Martha was the first white baby born in what is now Cleveland County, Arkansas. Washington B Smith at one time owned 7,040 acres in the area, which included the site of the Smith-Morgan Cemetery. His two-story log home was used as a Confederate hospital during a part of the Civil War. The Mosley household had extensive land holdings as well. Both Gran'pa Mosley and Washington B Smith owned slaves. Sallie M Offutt had a nervous breakdown in middle age and spent most of the rest of her life "lying sideways in bed, taking Nervine".John was the son of:

Generation 2    John Craven Offutt b c1819 in Montgomery County Md, d 29 Jan 1917 in New Edinburg Ar, buried at Smith-Morgan; m c1864 Sarah Abigail Gill b 28 Jun 1844 in Alabama to William Gill and Sarah Woolly; d 20 Mar 1909, buried at Smith-Morgan. John served in the Confederate Army during the Civil War from 27 Mar 1861--31 Mar 1862. They had seven children. 
John was the son of:

Generation 3    Thomas Wooton Offutt b 1784, eldest of nine children, near Great Falls, Md, d 1830 in Montgomery County, Md; m 12 Mar 1811 in Montgomery County to Elizabeth Luckett Offutt b 1789 in Charles County Md, d c1834. Elizabeth was the daughter of Osgood Offutt, who was the son of William Offutt (1729-1810), who was the son of James Offutt (c1703-1750), who was the son of William Offutt and Mary Brock, daughter of Capt Edward Brock-(Generation 8).  The elder William Offutt was born c1673, and immigrated to Maryland from England. He died in 1734. Thomas Wooton Offutt and Elizabeth had six children. They lived on a plantation consisting of 128 acres, and owned a number of slaves. They also were first cousins once removed. 
Thomas Wooton was the son of:

Generation 4    Thomas Offutt b 1730?, d 1800 in Frederick County Md. He m c1761 Elizabeth Luckett b 1721, d bef 1799; buried in Frederick County Md. They had nine children, the first three of whom were all named Thomas. 
Elizabeth was the daughter of:

Generation 5    (Colonel) William Luckett b c1711 in Charles County Md, d 17 Jan 1783 in Montgomery County Md. He m in 1740 Charity Middleton b 1717, d bef 27 Jun 1781, dau of John Middleton and Mary Wheeler. They had ten children. Colonel Luckett served was a magistrate of Frederick County, and was one of twelve justices that helped repudiate the Stamp Act of 1765. The local chapter of the DAR  placed a plaque in the courthouse to commemorate that event. During the American Revolution, he was actively engaged at the battle of Germantown, and a company leader of the Tom's Creek Hundred's Game Cock Company, which assisted to some degree in the capture of British General Cornwallis and the seige of Yorktown. 
He was the son of:

Generation 6    Samuel Luckett Jr, b 10 Oct 1685 in St Charles County Md, d 1724; m bef 1712 to Ann(e) Smoot b c1687 d c 1750. They had four sons. 
Samuel was the son of:

Generation 7    Samuel Luckett b 1650 in Kent County England, d 1705 in St Charles County Md. He m 24 Nov 1683 Elizabeth Hussey b c1667, d c 1747 in St Charles County Md. They had four sons, with Samuel Jr the eldest. 
Elizabeth was the daughter of:

Generation 8    Thomas Hussey b c1636 d  1700; married 15 Nov 1665 in Charles County Md to Johanna Porter Neville, a REAL CHARACTER, google her name!**? b c1627 d betw 1678-80. Johanna was involved in numerous legal actions both as plaintiff and as defendant. In one jury trial for defamation**??(1663***?), Thomas Hussey is listed as one of the jurors. There were at least two incidents of fights with other women, including one of scratching and hair-pulling, which had to be broken up by men who were nearby. Johanna bore an illegitimate daughter named Rachel in 1658, father unknown. She married Thomas Hussey in 1665.  
Thomas was the son of:

Generation 9    (Rev) John Hussey b c1594 in Harby, Lincolnshire England, d aft 1656 m c1635 to unk. 
He was the son of:

Generation 10     John Hussey b c 1543 in Paines, Cockfield, Sussex, and buried 27 May 1600 at same. He married c1572 Mary Wroth, daughter of Sir Thomas Wroth and Mary Rich (generation 11), who was the daughter of Baron Richard Rich of Leez ( Leighs?) and Elizabeth Jenkyns**(***??). Baron Rich was an aide and friend to King Henry VIII, and as solicitor-general, was called to prosecute those who denied the validity of the King's marriage to Anne Boleyn. He was given Leez Manor as a gift from the King (photo). He was personally involved in the torture and burning of heretics, and also in the harsh treatment of Princess Mary (later known as Bloody Mary) during her time of exile. His services to some extent were retained by Queen Elizabeth I, Mary's half-sister. The British Broadcasting Company compiled a list of the ten worst Britons of the past 1000 years and named Baron Rich in that list (attached). Baron Rich was the 13th great grandfather of both HRH Prince Charles and Lady Diana, and the 11th great grandfather of PM Winston Churchill--which would make him our 14th cousin once removed.
John Hussey was the son of:

Generation 11    John Hussey b c 1512 in Slinfold, Sussex, d 6 Mar 1571 or 72; m c1542 to Margaret Apsley. 
She was the daughter of:

Generation 12    William Apsley of Thackenham, m Jane Ashburnham b bef 1507. The name Ashburnham originated from a combination of Ashburn, the name of a small stream near Sussex, and the word "hamlet".
Jane was the daughter of:

Generation 13    William Ashburnham, Esq, b bef 1491, m Anne Hawley b bef 1491, daughter of Henry Hawley of Ore. 
William was the son of:

Generation 14     John Ashburnham b bef 1474, d 1491, m Elizabeth Peckham b bef 1475, daughter of --- Peckham of Kent. He is buried in the chapel of St James of Ashburnham.  
John was the son of:

Generation 15     Thomas Ashburnham, Esq, b bef 1416, d aft 1434; m Sarah Wauncy, daughter of Henry Wauncy, son of Sir Nicholas de Wauncy, who was sheriff of Surrey and Sussex. They had three sons. 
Thomas was the son of:

Generation 16     John Ashburnham of Ashburnham, b bef 1384, d aft 1416; m Elizabeth Finch . He was sheriff of the counties of Surrey and Sussex. 
John was the son of:

Generation 17     John Esburnham or Ashburnham b bef 1368, d aft 1396; m Mary Isley dau of ---Isley of Sundridge in Kent. 
John was the son of:

Generation 18    Sir John Esburnham or Ashburnham b bef 1299, d aft 1352; m Joan Covert b bef 1352, daughter of Richard Covert of Sullington and ---Norwood. Sir John was summoned  to attend King Edward I at London, "...with horse and arms, to go with him beyond the seas, for his own honour, and the profit of the realm". (source**)
Sir John was the son of:

Generation 19     Sir Richard Esburnham b c1247 in Ashbornham, Battle, Sussex; m Isabel Morville b c1250, daughterof Sir Thomas Morville b c1222. 
Sir Richard was the son of:

Generation 20     Sir Hamond de Esburnham ("of the Esburn hamlet") b c1225 in Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex; m Maud Elton b c1230 in Elton in Bury, Petworth, Sussex, daughter of Thomas Elton of Elton. 
Sir Hamond was the son of:

Generation 21      Sir Richard de Esburnham b c1200 in Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex, d aft 1254; m Katherine Peverell b c1200 in Barnwell, Isle of Ely, Cambridgeshire, daughter of Sir Richard Peverell. 
Sir Richard was the son of:

Generation 22      Sir Richard de Esburnham, b c1170 at Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex; m Margaret Maltravers b c1178 in Lytchett Matravers, Poole, Dorset, daughter of Sir John Maltravers of Wellcomb, son of *** son of *** son of ** .Sir John Maltravers was also possibly the 18th great grandfather of George Washington (fabpedigree.com). (if true, would make GW our 19th cousin 4x removed?)
Sir Richard was the son of:

Generation 23      Stephen de Ashburnham b c1140 in Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex, d in Dudwell Valley, Burwash, Sussex, date unk. 
Stephen was the son of:

Generation 24      Reginald de Ashburnham b c1100 in Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex; d aft 1166 in Hooe, Hailsham, Sussex. Ashburnham Place was acquired during his lifetime (photo). 
Reginald was the son of:

Generation 25      Philip de Ashburnham b bef 1066 in Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex, m unk.
 Philip was the son of:

Generation 26       Bertram de Ashburnham, constable of Dover Castle and Baron of Kent,  b c1036 in Ashburnham Battle, Sussex. Bertram was killed in Oct 1066 at the hand of William the Conquerer, who beheaded him after he had valiantly defended Dover Castle against William's invasion. Bertram had served King Harold II who had fallen into the hands of William after being shipwrecked in 1064. 
Bertram was the son of:

Generation 27      Anchitel de Ashburnham b c1008 in Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex, m unk, d unk.
Anchitel was the son of:

Generation 28       Piers de Ashburnham b c980 in Ashburnham, Battle, Sussex, m unk, d unk.

Grave Records (Smith side of the family)

My father is buried in Ebenezer Cemetery outside Fordyce, Arkansas in the same cemetery as his parents (but not his grandfather; see below). When I was young, there was an old white frame church there.  In those days, there was a pot-luck reunion every year that we attended.  I would like to be buried in this same plot when my time comes and my sister Kristie has said she would like to be buried there as well..  There are many relatives in this cemetery.  I visited this cemetery many times as a child with Daddy (he visited the cemetery at least 3-4 times a year during my childhood). Sometimes he would tell me stories about many of the people buried there--I sure wish my memory was better.  In one area, there is a husband and wife and several children who lived briefly and then died.  Daddy lived most of his adult life with little to no interest in the things of God but when he was stricken with leukemia and knew he was dying, he was witnessed to by a black man who was from his childhood and he re-committed his life to God.  As he lay dying, he often asked Mother to read him the 23rd Psalm; thus the inscription "The Lord is my Shepherd" on the stone.

At the funeral of my grandfather on Mother's side (Lorie Ted Hicks, buried in Smith Chapel Cemetery a few miles away from Ebenezer, near Kingsland, Arkansas), Daddy commented to Joe, Larry and me that he did not want to be buried in a "hole of water" when his time came.  The water table in that part of Arkansas is often not very far beneath the surface and holes would sometimes fill with water right as they were being dug.  Pap's grave was dry when he was buried---I checked.

<<Click on a picture to enlarge for more detail>>

When Mother passes, she will be buried here as well.

Thyra and S.J were my grandparents; he died way before I was born in 1935.  There is a "Woodmen of the World" insignia on his headstone in the Ebenezer Cemetery outside Fordyce, Arkansas.  S.J was a prominent businessman who built roads (with mule drawn equipment); he also owned a mule barn where they were bought and sold.   He eventually became a severe alcoholic; Daddy on more than one occasion had to take a wagon and mule and go to town and get him and on at least one occasion found him drunk in a ditch. He died of TB.  I have an old 1800's rolltop oak desk that belonged to him and then to my own father.  Thyra was the eldest of about a dozen children; her mother died in childbirth and she took over raising the family as an early teenager.  Her maiden name was "Gray", shown on her headstone.  I visited the log cabin where all of her early days occurred before it collapsed.  It was about 18 X 20 ft in size and down the road a couple of miles from the cemetery where she is buried by her husband S.J.  The old farmhouse where she lived (and where all of her own children, including Daddy were born that I visited as a child did not have an indoor toilet or even running water but there was a well not far from the back door.  She was a large woman, pleasant enough...I really don't remember her that well as I was 9 when she died.  

Next to Thyra and S.J is my Aunt Pauline's grave.  She was a very special person to me who never had children of her own so she sometimes took me on excusrsions which were always interesting and fun.  She really loved to go places and do things!  She had three husbands, all died so she was a widow three times.  Pauline was a registered nurse and I have wonderful memories of her.  She had a mobile home/trailer on a lake in Fordyce as a getaway and I stayed there in the summer with her many times, fishing and just hanging out there.  She was usually very upbeat, laughing often.  During those summer times at the lake, my uncle and aunt Floyd and Clara (also buried nearby) would come out to the lake in the evenings and playing cards or dominoes....I can vividly remember hearing laughter coming out of the trailer while light streamed out the windows on a summer evening when I stayed outside down on the little boat dock she had nearby.

Pauline died of colon cancer  As she was dying, Daddy went to sit with her every day for months.  He told me once that he wanted to be there when she died and I gathered that she had asked him to be as they were always very close.   He instructed the staff at the nursing home where she was to let him know immediately if she took a turn for the worse but due to a mixup of some kind, Aunt Pauline died alone and Daddy really grieved doubly because of her loss and because he had not been there.

Daddy had three brothers (Hugh, Floyd, and Don) and one sister (Pauline).  Don was a very refined man who looked amazingly like Daddy and was about the same size which was 6'4" and about 260 lbs.  His daughter, June (my cousin although several years older) attended Julliard Music Conservatory and married an orchestra conductor.  Don was an engineer and designed bridges and enjoyed oil painting. Don, in his last years, had a stroke and suffered paralysis and lost the ability to speak although it seemed as if his mind was still sharp.   Hugh, the eldest, was County Commissioner of Dallas County and was very respected.  Early one Monday morning, a worker called in sick; he was to drive to Hampton, AR to get a full load of hot asphalt for a road building project.  Hugh knew that several men would have nothing to do and that the project would be delayed so he got out of bed about 4 AM, got the asphalt truck, and drove to get the asphalt himself.  On the way back, a car driving behind him stated that they saw something "drop down" below the truck.  The something they saw turned out to be part of the steering apparatus of the truck.  The truck veered off the road and struck a bridge abutment.  The bridge didn't move and the tons of hot asphalt crushed the cab and Uncle Hugh.

He survived long enough for both of his broken legs to be set but after a transfusion--he had bled profusely, as his blood pressure began to come up, it was apparent that he had massive internal injuries and he died not long afterward.   Mother, Aunt Pauline, Kristie and I were in Louisiana on one of Pauline's famous excursions.  We received the phone call at the hotel still early that morning-- it was March 27, 1963, my 10th birthday--and I remember how upset Pauline was as we all quickly jumped in the car to return to Fordyce.  When we got there, we learned he was dead.   The funeral was huge, an incredible number of people showed up and there were more flowers than they had ever seen at a funeral there, they said at the time.

An interesting side note:  Hugh's wife was also named Mary, just like my mother.  After many years as a widow, she eventually rekindled a romance with a boy friend from her teenage years who had become a widower by this time and they were married and lived out their years in Fordyce.

Uncle Floyd, next in the birth order, was a very kind man who also took an interest in me during my visits to Fordyce in the summer.  Floyd took me fishing several times and also on road trips out in the Arkansas woods just to look around.  He always called me "Lad" as if that was my name.  His wife, Clara, was notorious for her hospitality.  On virtually every occasion when we drove up to the sprawling old 1800's house they lived in, she would ALWAYS say, "Have you eaten, let me get you something to eat!"

No, no, we would say.  "Here, I have some pecan pie I just made and some ham, let me make you a sandwich!" she would say as she opened the fridge and started pulling out the ham.

No, no, NO, we would say. "Well, how about some scrambled eggs and bacon, it won't take but a few minutes..."   No, NO, we don't want anything, we would say.  "Here, you have to eat some of this pecan pie and I'll make a fresh pot of coffee..."  NO, please Clara, we just stopped in to say hi..."Now here, I know you want some of this pie and it won't take but a bit to make coffee.....................

Well, as I recall, we pretty much always wound up eating until SHE let us leave.  She was a loving and pleasant person and hospitable to a fault.   Floyd was very interested in trees and always had interesting "experiments" going on in which he grafted pecan trees onto hickory nut trees or five different kinds of apples onto one tree or apricots onto peach trees.  I think sometimes he went out into the woods and grafted some of those trees and he would go back every year or so and check them to see how they were doing!

In the front room of their home, a murder happened prior to their buying the house.  A World War I veteran, back from the war, apparently was really struggling with post traumatic stress and had awful dreams and flashbacks going back to the war.  One night, he grabbed a rifle and shot his wife and killed her.

William Joseph was the father of the first Sebern J Smith and therefore my great grandfather.  He moved from Alabama to Arkansas and served in the Civil War.  The last time I visited his grave there was an iron cross indicating that he served in the Confederate States of America.  Some people steal these and sell them on Ebay, believe it or not.  I've thought about going out there someday and somehow setting it in concrete but that would mean digging in the cemetery and that would probably get me arrested.  I hope it is still there.

This is the plot in Fordyce, Arkansas in Oakland Cemetery.

Pap's best stories

My father was a big man, six foot four and 260 lbs or so, he wore size 14 shoes and had to buy clothes from the "big and tall" mail order people (the Internet wasn't around during his life).

He grew up in Fordyce, Arkansas and played football for the Fordyce High School Redbugs only a couple of years later than another famous FHS alum--Paul W. Bryant.  The Bryant family lived down the road from the Smith farm and Paul's parents and a brother are buried in the same cemetery as many of my relatives.  He is a blood relative on my mother's side, by the way.

Paul went on to gain the nickname "Bear" and eventually became the University of Alabama head football coach and would win six national championships but that is another story.

As a young man, big and strong, Daddy was hired by the highway department to drive a gravel truck.  In the 1930's, these trucks were not the huge trucks on the road now  but smaller, holding only a few tons of gravel.  And--get this-- they were usually HAND LOADED with a shovel so the highway department only hired big boys who could load the truck several times a day.

On one occasion, a man in a nice car drove into the gravel pit and approached Daddy and said, "Son, if I bet some money on you that you can load this truck faster than Oscar (apparently a noted brute that worked fiendishly), I'll pay you a day's wages.  Think you can win"?  Daddy said that for a full day's wage that would only take 30 minutes or so to win, he would sure try.

Well, the contest happened with several onlookers, all hooting for their favorite to win and, sure enough, daddy won the bet.

Another time, he drove an old car down to a local fishing hole and it was really muddy.  The car got stuck in the mud, and adding insult to injury, the car was downhill from the road.  Daddy took a "come-along" and a chain, waded out in the bog and crawled under it in to wrap the chain around the axle, crawled out, and began to haul.  The car began to inch out but, boy, it sure was turning into more work than one might think!

He pulled and pulled then pulled some work and slowly the car was dragged to the top of the hill. Completely worn out, daddy removed the chain and stowed away the come-along and climbed into the car, covered with mud and sweat where he discovered that the parking brake was set!  He really had dragged it up the hill, wheels locked.

Oddly enough, I had my own experience getting one stuck near Fordyce the same way--a friend named Ken Turner and I snuck off one Saturday (we were in high school) to go fishing in Daddy's 1951 Chevy truck and danged if we didn't slide that truck into a mudhole. Really, it was more like a swamp.  We spent most of the day trying to get it out without success; eventually, covered with mud and exhausted, we walked down the muddy road to the highway and flagged down a log truck.  Log truck were really common down there in south Arkansas' timber country and this one was driven by a black man and a co-worker who were gruff with us but agreed to pull us out with the hundreds of feet of cable the truck was equipped with for dragging logs out of the woods if we would pay them.

Ken and I had about $2 between us and the men said that wasn't enough, what else did we have?  Frantic, we started trying to offer what we had, which was nothing but two fishing poles and a bucket of minnows.  They weren't interested in the poles, but with our $2 AND the minnows, bucket included, they would give it a try!  That big old log truck slipped and slid and tore up the muddy road, and to borrow an expression my father used, I don't mean maybe!  Since this was NOT on land that belonged to us, we began to feel increasing desire to get the heck out of there before the landowner showed up.

It worked!  They dragged us out and happily drove off with our $2 and minnow bucket but now a new problem arose:  Ken was supposed to be at work at Safeway, we never anticipated this little fishing trip would turn into an all day deal.  Ken was not happy as we drove that old Chevy truck about as fast as it would go (which still wasn't very fast for a vehicle of 1951 vintage) back the 40 miles to Pine Bluff.  That old motor was howling and I don't mean maybe.

My favorite story of Daddy's was about working on the railroad in his first couple of weeks.  He had just hired on, World War II was going on and he was exempt from serving in the military if working in an industry critical to the war effort and since he had a wife and 3 small children, the job with the railroad was a Godsend.

So here they go on a giant steam locomotive one night on a trip known in RR lingo as a "local", meaning they were going to various industrial locations centered around Pine Bluff but somewhat out in the country picking up loaded boxcars and dropping off empty ones to be filled again.  Daddy was with a grizzled old engineer and another young pup who had just hired on and off they went.  Some where along the way, a brake line blew which caused the train to stop---not an unusual occurrence so they had spare brake hose on hand.
The engineer pulled out his pocket watch and after looking at it a moment said,  "Boys,  there be an IC back yonder so one of you take this hose and get back there and change that hose quick as you can while whoever can run the fastest needs to run back there and make sure we're clear of the IC"!  What is an IC, the boys wanted to know?  "Dang boys, we ain't got no time to be LOLLYGAGGIN around here cause THERE IS A TRAIN headed up that other line and he gone KNOCK THE BACK OF THIS-HERE TRAIN plumb to HELL if we be past the IC!"  Well, turns out that the IC was in intersection, like an X between two different railroads, so Daddy, opining that he could run pretty fast, was instructed to run back there and if the last boxcar wasn't clear of the IC, to KEEP ON RUNNING as fast and as far as he could down the other railroad line to flag down the oncoming freight train who would be moving fast.  Jumping off the locomotive, down beside the train, in the dark not really able to see where was going so he fell repeatedly, scrambling up to keep on SPRINTING down beside the dark hulking train beside him on the sloped gravel rail bed.

Beat up from the falling and completely winded, he arrived at the back of the train, and wouldn't you know it, there they were, straddling that intersection so now the problem really became urgent!  A speeding freight train takes a LONG distance to stop and there was one right now, at an unknown distance hurtling unknowingly toward them...so with renewed vigor he now began sprinting off into the darkness, this time between the rails so he was able to really fly without falling.  After running what seemed like a long way and completely exhausted, he saw the headlight down the track which gave him yet another rush of adrenaline so with his third or fourth wind, he kept up the sprint until he figured they might be able so see him, wildly waving his arms and screaming (as if they could hear that on a locomotive!).  Well, they saw him alright and threw their train into emergency braking so thousands of tons of steel were now sliding down the track, all of the wheels fully locked.

Daddy stood helplessly, gasping for air as the fright train gradually slowed, slowed, slowed, and finally, just before stopping, he heard an enormous BOOM!  Off he ran, back toward the scene of the crash.

When he got there, he found that his counterpart had gotten the hose changed and the old engineer hat started the train moving forward and when the LAST boxcar was almost clear of the IC, the locomotive just clipped the back of it, tearing a ladder off the front of the engine.  A hot discussion was in progress between the two engineers as they stood in the glaring light of the engine looking at the damage.  Eventually, as the excitement wore off, everyone involved began to cool down and see that it COULD have been much worse, so Daddy, the engineer, and the brake-hose-changer all began walking back down the track to their engine where they resumed their trip---pretty much in silence the rest of the evening; no doubt, each man with his own thoughts.

Once they arrived back at the railroad yard with their work completed and as they were disembarking from the engine, the brake hose changer erupted to Daddy saying excitedly and emphatically that..."by <blankedy-blank>, this <blankedy-blank> railroad can <blankedy-blank> go straight to <blankedy-blank> and HE was NOT going to work ANOTHER <blankedy-blank> minute for them and that Daddy was a <blankedy-blank> <blankedy-blank> fool if he didn't walk the <blankedy-blank> off too!

Shocked, the old engineer and Daddy stood there as the brake changer guy stormed off down the tracks. After a long moment with both of them just standing there, the engineer said in a soothing voice, "Son, now don't go off a-feeling like that! We've done had ourselves a unusual kind of danged old bad luck tonight, and I grant you that it was scary, but heck, don't let one little old thing like this scare you away...heck , I've worked here a long time and, well son, it could be a long time before something ever happens like this to you again, I mean, maybe even two or three weeks!"

Daddy really needed the job.....

Washing machines, airplane propellers, and babies....

I'm building an airplane.  It's not a model, and someday I hope to fly in it to far away places like Kansas City and Los Angeles.  to see my kids and their kids, my grandkids.

It's been a huge learning process, this building an airplane, even for a builder/tinkerer like me. 

Take the propeller, for example.  My propeller weighs over 60 pounds and is 82" in diameter; it came off a Cessna 182 and new cost thousands of dollars although I found one that was a "deal".  In order to spin correctly, without wobble or excessive vibration, it has to be VERY balanced.  Balancing a prop is an extensive procedure, and even the tiniest difference in weight from one blade to the other is magnified exponentially when it is spinning 2500 times a minute.  Props that are out of balance have been known to shake airplanes apart!  Not good if you are 4000' feet above ground level when it happens. 

They are like washing machines that get out of balance and wobble, worse and worse until the machine starts sliding across the floor or turns itself off while that annoying buzzer screams, except that washing machines have a one-third horsepower motor in them while my airplane will have 230 horsepower.

Airplane engines will literally tear themselves out of the airframe in a split second if a blade is lost from one side of the propeller or if a piece happened to be shot away like in World War II.  Nobody survives when this stuff happens, it is instant and total destruction...one, second "all is well" and then it is "all over".

It struck me a few days ago just how fantastic it is that the EARTH, millions and millions of tons of dirt and rock and water spins on it's axis with the outside circumference spinning MILLIONS of times faster than that propeller, all the while travelling in an orbit around the sun, delicately balanced with all the other planets in our solar system, themselves spinning on their own axis......talk about precision!  In the vastness of space, all of this is going on, with a predicatability that is literally unfathomable.

Now think of this: The largest thing we can see (the solar system) is the same model as the smallest thing we can conceive, the atom.  Wow.

Inside of my daughter in law, RIGHT NOW, there are cells rapidly dividing at an inconceiveable (sorry, bad pun!), changing from essentially one into BILLIONS of cells...and at a speed of light rate, some are becoming skin cells, some are becoming cells of organs and eyes and some are multiplying making a tiny brain...all complete with jillions of other cells that are not only becoming nerves and blood vessels and capillaries BUT ALL OF THIS is networked together in a symphony that is breathtaking to consider!

All of that is going on RIGHT NOW.

But there is more!  Somehow, programmed into those cells are vastly complex instructions about WHAT THEY ARE TO DO.....a pancreas, connected to the brain and wired through the digestive circuits will produce insulin which will do it's own VASTLY complex work when this child drinks it's milk, driving the very nutrition out of that milk into still growing cells AT THE ATOMIC LEVEL.  Somehow, the simple and underated stomach and digestive system will be able to take milk and some crackers and Gerber Strained Carrots and remove (at the atomic level again) all sorts of minerals and other things and TURN THEM INTO ENERGY and more highly specific cells as needed, all of this working together.  WOW.  This child's body KNOWS how to take this stuff and turn some of it into fingernail cells, some of it into eyeball cells, and some of it into brain chemicals like norepinephrine and serotonin and BALANCE them in the proper quantities.

But there is more!

This child will be like her mother and father in many ways, and yet be her own self.  She (well, maybe he) will have genetic programming that not only builds her body FROM ATOMS (!) but will contain programming in her brain that is beyond description.  She will have INSTINCTS to be afraid of some things, she will be curious about others.....she will have emotions.....joys....sorrows.......all emanating from inside of atoms that were once milk, crackers, and Gerber Strained Carrots.  She will have her mother's eyes, or maybe her father's....she will have bits and peices of their temperaments and personalities, their likes and dislikes and yet contain her own things as well, different from each of them.  Incredible!

But there is still more!

She will be LOVED by her parents and grandparents, beyond words!  She will nurtured and protected and taught; she will grow and learn and bring all of those who love her joys and pleasures that are the very essence of the human soul.  She will be fragile and vulnerable, even when she is grown and seems sometimes to not be so.

Wow.

A few days ago, when we learned about this little miracle-in-the-making, when we watched her parents (my son and his wife) walk away after we said our goodbyes and began to travel back to our own cities, I was suddenly struck with a lump in the throat, tears in the eyes moment as my son turned to walk away....the love and fear I felt for him, the realization of his (and their) vulnerability in this world we live in hit me with words I can't express.  And then, in the midst of that unspeakable love and concern, something else hit me.  It was like, deep inside my mind, a very quiet voice said....."that is how I feel about you, my son".  And the voice was from God.

It makes me tear up now to recall this.  The "religion" I grew up with was really pretty much worthless, teaching things that were not right.  I really didn't know about a truly loving God, even though those words were mixed in with the other mixed messages of a "religion" that contains more of human reasoning and folly than divine truth.  But in this time of my life, having returned to God armed with some truth, I am learning all kinds of new lessons while learning to let go of many things that I will not understand on this side of Heaven.

I pray for these three several times each day, sometimes not knowing how or what to pray but God knows.



The Apostle Paul wrote in I Timothy 1:13 these words that apply to me if modified only slightly:  "Even though I was once a blasphemer and a persecutor and a violent man, I was shown mercy because I acted in ignoroance and unbelief".  The very next verse says..."Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners".