My Continuing Education

My Continuing Education Last Saturday I went to the Southern Festival of Books at the Legislative Plaza to wander around the stacks of reading materials just to see what jumped out at me. I was hoping to see Terri Merriman who co-wrote a terrific book based on the former High Sheriff in Wilson County Terry Ashe, . http://www.amazon.com/Ashes-Bluebird-Sheriff-Terry-Ashe/dp/1937763390 I found what I was looking for and sat down to enjoy the live music. As the singer from South Carolina was wrapping up her set I got a tap on my shoulder. There stood a fellow whom I guessed was about my age, but less ‘robust than I’ He pulled up a chair and told me a complicated sob story about his car being towed and the loss of his credit card along with the burden of paying the towage fee. When I heard all the story I was thinking, “you can’t make this stuff up!” Then he asked me to “Trust him for $12.50.” I was agreeable and gave him $15.00. He took my mailing info down so he could repay my, and we parted ways. When I began my trek toward home it crossed my mind that it was certainly possible to make up such a convoluted story! So here it is a week later and “my good friend” has probably lost my mailing information, since I have yet to hear from him. So the story of my life goes on and my education continues. Life is a roller coaster ride with bumps along the way. Fifteen Dollars is a relatively small price to pay. It will be difficult to avoid making this same mistake in the future since it is against my nature not to help someone who appears to be in need. I just wonder how many other well intentioned attendees at the book festival heard his spiel.

Odd Life Experiencces

I have had some odd encounters during my days: most of them appear in this blog site. They have made my existence unique to say the least. If I ever had a best friend when I needed one is was Bill Moore. Bill was my classmate through our elementary, secondary schools in Carthage, Tennessee. We were college roommates at Tennessee Polytechnic Institute from 1958 through 1962: learning to become band directors.

I needed a summer job after my freshman year at TPI and Bill assisted me in joining the survey crews working out of the Tennessee Department of Highways. We traveled all over the state each summer performing surveys on how much traffic certain roads received, discerning the probable exits and entrances for the interstate highway system yet to be constructed and weighing trucks to monitor their use and need for repair for existing highways. We did the data collection and smarter folks interpreted the data. It was this period of time that inspired me to develop this anecdote.

Our first two summers were spent conducting surveys and counting cars on rural roads in West Tennessee. We worked the gravel roads way out in the boonies. And once in a while we worked in the larger towns such as Hornbeck, Sharon and Gleason. At least these streets were paved. One memorable encounter came when I was recording traffic flow in Huntingdon.

I was sitting on the steps of a Baptist church when a curious young lady joined me wondering what I was up to. Most of the shifts counting traffic flow were totally boring, to say the least, so I was glad for her interest. We discussed the usual things such as what I was doing and her rendition of what kind of town Huntingdon was.

I was in the habit of getting the Memphis morning paper to break the monotony of counting cars. The more we talked and the more I looked at my companion, I felt that I had seen her or had seen her picture somewhere. As it turned out her picture had been in the Memphis Commercial Appeal about two weeks prior.

She relayed the following story.
She was getting out of her shower when she heard a strange noise and sensed that there was someone in the kitchen. She toweled off somewhat and hearing more movement she retrieved the double barreled shot gun from behind the bathroom door.
The door crashed open and she had the shotgun up and ready to fire when the intruder came through the door wielding a butcher knife from her kitchen. She aimed at the intruder and pulled the triggers: nothing happened. The hammers were not retracted all the way back to the firing position.

She was in a fight for her life dodging the knife when she could and trying to break his grip on the shotgun. He viciously stabbed her and she dodged and ducked until he had stabbed her twenty–two times. There was blood everywhere and she was failing fast when a neighbor came in having heard the commotion and the assailant decided to run for his life while her life force was ebbing.

An ambulance and the authorities were called, and she was sped to the hospital where she recovered. The intruder was caught later that day by an enraged sheriff along with his staff. The assailant was literally treed. He was tracked by the county bloodhounds and was trying to conceal himself by climbing a tree. I don’t recall what transpired, but if my memory is sound he was known as a notorious violent offender and still in possession of the kitchen knife making threats to the sheriff. He would not surrender and was summarily dispatched.

She showed me a few of the scars that she was destined to live with. She had been stabbed in her arms, shoulders and in the scalp. Evidently she had been agile enough that her internal organs were undamaged. I didn’t need to see any others. She had recovered very well and was going on with her life when we met. I admired her fortitude. And I wonder if she remembers telling me her story on that warm day in Huntingdon.

Designing with heart - timesfreepress.com

Designing with heart - timesfreepress.com

Judy Butler Science Scholarships

Judy Butler was an award winning educator, naturalist, artist, and journal writer. She served in leadership roles at Williamson County Schools and as president of Dragonfly Enterprises. She raised millions of dollars in grant funding for science education especially for students who are not traditionally found in these careers. In the last weeks of her life as she faced ovarian cancer she helped to organize two college scholarship funds as her legacy. Please send your tax-deductible scholarship contributions to honor and continue Judy’s passionate dedication to education for all students. 100% of your donation goes directly into the scholarship funds for these future scientists.

a. Judy Butler Scholarship for STEM at TSU
Two $500 scholarships will be awarded each year to students majoring in STEM areas at Tennessee State University. Preference will be given SEMAA graduates. The NASA Science Engineering Mathematics and Aerospace Academy, or SEMAA, is a national, innovative project designed to increase participation and retention of historically underrepresented K-12 youth in the fields of science, technology, engineering and mathematics, or STEM.

Contributions may be mailed to:
Tennessee State University Foundation
3500 John A. Merit Boulevard
Campus Box 9542
Nashville, TN 37209
Att: Betsy Jackson

Make check payable to TSU Foundation with Judy Butler Scholarship in the memo line or donate online at www.tnstate.edu/contributions at the Judy Butler Scholarship link.

b. UM-NARL Judy Butler Student Scholarship
One $1,000 scholarship will be awarded each year to a student for research training at the University of Montana Native American Research Lab (NARL) who has demonstrated interest in pursuing an advanced degree and research in Astrobiology or other space-related sciences with a dedication to Native American science education. The mission of the Native American Research Laboratories at The University of Montana is provide American Indian undergraduate students and graduate students with “hands-on” research opportunities in basic sciences and biomedical sciences in a culturally-relevant cross-disciplinary and cross-cultural environment.

Contributions may be mailed to:
University of Montana Foundation
P.O. Box 7159
600 Connell Avenue
Missoula, MT 59807-7159
Att: Kelley Willett
Make check payable to University of Montana Foundation with Judy Butler Scholarship in the memo line.

For more information about these scholarships contact:
Todd Gary at TSU tgary@coe.tsuniv.edu
Michael Ceballos at UM rmichael.ceballos@umontana.edu
Susan Kuner skuner@gmail.com

Thank you for supporting the Judy Butler Scholarships

God's Speed Judy Pie

IF I COULD TALK, I’d tell about the redhead sitting in the second row of the 1970 summer institute. I had just been hired by The Southern Regional Media Center for The Deaf at UT Knoxville. We hosted fifty teachers of hearing impaired students for a six-week, immersion experience into the technologies then available.

That Thursday I was giving a presentation on photography when I noticed the cute redhead in the second row. I didn’t give her much more thought until on Saturday, I found her seated at the picnic table at KFC. I sauntered over with my lunch to visit.

I ate the chicken and she ate the bones!

We struck up a cautious conversation and I suggested showing her around. I found that she was from New Orleans and most recently from Baton Rouge. We rode down to the overlook at Loudon Dam. Sitting on the hill above the dam I leaned back to give her a good once-over and the thought came to me: This girl is not like anyone I have ever encountered.

SHE COULD BE BIG TROUBLE!

The institute continued and we found each other’s company agreeable, so we became a couple. Then the day came when the institute ended and we all parted ways with many “well-done's” and “see you around:” etc. I thought, Oh Well. Back to the new job and then who knows what?

Three weeks later, who rings my doorbell but Julia Alta Faye Graythen, announcing that she had enrolled in the Master’s program at UT in Deaf Education! I was amazed, but thought little of it. (Oh how stupid I was!)

A year later we were wed in a glorious ceremony. It was a splendid affair: we received the license and went to the Halls Methodist Church for the nuptials with the preacher, his wife and the church secretary in attendance. Then we went to Big Ridge State Park to grill a steak and have some wine. Our honeymoon consisted of a ride on the Octopus at the Anderson County Fair.

Our wedding song came on the radio on our trip back to Knoxville: it is

“I just want to celebrate another day of living!”
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Judy began the UT Master’s program, and given her abilities, pretty soon she was selected as a faculty person in the Department of Special Education and Rehabilitation.

Two years later Judy and I returned to Indiana University: I, to complete my Education Specialists program , and Judy to start a doctorate in Hearing and Speech. Then we had a major distraction!

Judy tested positive to being pregnant! And all our priorities changed! She told the IU folks to take a hike, and she devoted all her days to welcoming Kelly Dee Butler into the world.

Kelly arrived in October & we moved to Nashville in December 1974. We were stuck in an apartment in Hermitage and Judy was experiencing postpartum depression. I went out of town to a convention in Minnesota, and Judy bought a house! This was the second time she had taken upon herself to commit for a house while I was out of town. We have loved our home all these years and we call it the Butlerossa.
After stints at Vanderbilt University and Belmont, Judy launched herself on Williamson County schools.

Judy became the coordinator of the program for gifted students. Judy thought BIG and sought an environmental grant from Saturn. She received a grant to establish the Harpeth River Environmental and Educational Project. That project resulted in over ten thousand students being involved with evaluation of water quality and in almost a million dollars in grants to support the projects in Williamson County.

Judy was recognized as The Environmental Teacher of the year by the Tennessee Conservation League. She received an international award from Project Green as the Teacher of the Year!

Our relationship has been based on moving forward.
Now you and I have to say goodbye to one of the sweetest souls on the planet! She took after her mother in that aspect. Judy was always supportive in helping those around her to achieve greater things. The other day, I told her, “Let’s not wait so long to find each other next time around!”

God’s speed Judy-Pie!

When loyalty was severely tested.

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The three main rascals of Fisher Hill in Carthage in the forty's were Tommy Moss, Sonny Apple and Lewis Butler. These three played, ran, fought and otherwise associated with each other daily. Other male members of the neighborhood were allowed to associate with this unholy trio on occasion, but Tommy, Sonny and Lewis could always be counted on to be at the center of an occurrence of most any kind.

It was either Tommy or Sonny who owned a BB Gun. Lewis was never allowed to have one! His mother always gave the standard answer for not allowing him to have it:, "NO. You'll shoot your eye out!" (The movie, "A Christmas Story" just about says it all on this point.)

At the top of Fisher Hill, Fisher Avenue dead-ends at what was once a circular drive for the Antebellum home at the top of the hill. Fisher Avenue is lined with old Sugar Maple trees that stand 10 feet from the curb on each side, but they are so large that their limbs intertwine above the street. It becomes a fiery, golden tunnel in the fall. In fact Fisher Avenue and Main Street in Carthage in the fall are often spectacular.

On this particular occasion the Trio was seated at the end of the Moss sidewalk, taking pot-shots with the BB gun. Little if anything escaped their attention: the telephone pole, the nearest maple tree, a wandering dog, or a bird perched high above on a power line. It was late in the summer afternoon and the sun had just about set. In the half-light before dark the lightning bugs were beginning to appear and the katydids had begun their songs, when Chicken Mc Clanahan came driving up Fisher and made a turn on-to Cullum away from the seated Trio.

Author’s note: Almost everyone in Carthage in the first half of the century had a nickname. There was Booger Mc Cormick, Slicker Snake Huffines, Rubber Dick Huffines, Hog Liver Key - the Huffines family had all the best nick names, and a hundred others.

Tommy was seated between Sonny and Lewis and at that moment, and Tommy was in possession of the BB Gun. Chicken made the turn away from the group. Tommy raised the gun and glanced a BB off the rear window of Chicken's car. Tommy dropped the BB Gun in front of all three of us and said, "DON'T TELL HIM WHO DID IT!"

Chicken was mad! Livid is probably a more appropriate word. He jumped out of the car and shouted, "WHICH ONE OF YOU BOYS SHOT MY CAR?"


Now this is the point where loyalty was severely tested! Sonny, Tommy and Lewis were not very mature, probably nine and ten years old respectively, but they were smart enough to know that this episode could rapidly turn into a period of substantial and sustained pain if not handled with proper aplomb and decorum.

The Trio knew that Chicken had a temper and it was possible that he had had a "drink". (It is true that you can't trust most men who won't take a drink, but it is also true that you'd better look out for some people when they do take one! Chicken was a member of both categories.)

At the split second, in the blink of an eye, and as quick a hick-up, Sonny pointed right and Lewis pointed left: Tommy was caught between points! The Trio received an appropriate, and well-deserved, tongue-lashing from Chicken which was all quickly forgotten except for the part about their parents would be told if they ever did such a thing again.

The Trio's loyalty had been tested and overcome by expediency!

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Military Man

Some years ago I was playing pool with a friend at The American Legion. He asked, "Were you ever in the military?" Then not long after I got some promotional literature from the same organization asking me to join if I could verify that I'd been in the military for only one day!

I was in the army for one day, one day only, and that was ENOUGH!

Actually my military career began in college, at Tennessee Polytechnic Institute – later renamed TN Tech University. In 1958 every freshman and sophomore was required to take ROTC, (pronounced "rot'c" which stood for Reserve Officer's Training Corps.) or, he took physical education. The T.P.I. "Corps of Cadets" was a Signal Corps Regiment, Battalion or Group or something: I never learned just which exactly!

Being legally blind in one eye I suspected that I would never be accepted in the military. And none of the guys I knew were in physical education, so we all took ROTC whether we were serious about killing people or not. I haven't had to kill anyone yet, but if I ever do I know the ROTC training I had will serve me well.

Every music major was automatically placed in the ROTC Band. The commander was in cahoots with the band director, and most of us would rather have been in the band than being screamed at by company commanders and platoon leaders: seniors and juniors who were inordinately intent about being in step and "dressing up that line." We band guys knew how to march and stay in line.

The Freshman year was OK: We learned small weapons' maintenance, positioning of a mortar and sighting in the target, but most of all we learned posturing! It was 1958, and there were many upperclassmen who took their R.O.T.C. "Rank" seriously. They had also seen every movie ever produced which showed just how rough it was getting through the military training program. Therefore they tried to emulate the toughest of the Drill Instructors that Hollywood had conjured up. The worst of the lot were the officers in the Pershing Rifles, TPI's award winning drill team.

So on Thursdays, “Drill Day,” between 3:00PM and 5:00PM the "Officers" would attempt to make life a living hell for the underclassmen! During our Sophomore year the R.O.T.C. Band had decided as a group not to attend the Military Ball. To the officers of the Pershing Rifles, this was an unbelievable affront! After all, the proceeds from the Military Ball went directly to the Pershing Rifles! How could we sniveling, trouble makers dare challenge the omnipotent Pershing Rifles?

An inspection of the ROTC Band was demanded and granted by the military faculty. We had been promised that the inspection would be particularly rigorous. The Officers were solemn and strict and dispensed demerits to all concerned. Demerits had to be "worked off" prior to next Thursdays drill: One demerit meant one hour cleaning rifles, sweeping or some other onerous task.

We in the R.O.T.C. Band knew that if you went to the armory to work off a demerit on Friday or Monday or Tuesday the Sergeant Major in charge would make you clean some M1 Rifles, etc. But if you went in a group on Wednesday afternoon about 3:00 there was nothing to do.

So we worked off our demerits late on Wednesday afternoon by one guy pulling down the window shades and the next guy raising the window shades. It took about ten minutes. The Sergeant Major knew all of us and got a great laugh out of our demerit problem.
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Moving ahead four years:
The USA was fervently providing "assistance" to the Republic of Vietnam in 1963. We had had advisers there since the late fifties, but by 1963 we were getting our guys killed! I received my notice to report for my physical exam in the spring of 1963.

Stripped to our underwear with our valuables in a drawstring bag we sat or stood in line to pee in a bottle, and have our hearing, vision and reflexes tested. Being legally blind in one eye, I knew that I was not a candidate for induction. However the "shave-tail" doctors who were administering the tests wouldn't listen and couldn't verify my damaged cornea and optic nerve. Then to top it all off they stamped my papers "Inductee" instead of "Pre-inductee" as they should have been stamped: I was on my way to Fort Polk Louisiana the very next day!

I finally got some older doctor to listen to me and he signed me in for the night to be examined by a "Downtown Doctor" the following day. That evening I and the real inductees were in the United States Army! The evening meal was beans and potatoes: two kinds of beans and two kinds of potatoes. An army travels on its stomach, you know. After supper we were required to police the area. That's Army Talk for pick up trash which in this case was cigarette butts. There didn't seem to be anything to gain from fighting the order, so we went about policing the area.

We were encouraged to hit the sack early. It seemed appropriate since there was absolutely nothing else to do. I was aroused in the middle of the night by someone rummaging through my locker. When I sat up in bed the perpetrator vanished and the bunk of black boy two bunks over was bouncing. I arose and found that my single dollar was still in my wallet. I then spoke a vow to whoever was interested about all manners of physical consequences that would befall anyone who attempted to repeat the deed.

The next morning I was examined by a "real doctor" who spotted the malady. As it turned out he had trained the eye, ear, nose and throat specialist who had played a big part in my personal miracle of not losing my right eye! I returned to Macon County and to band directing without being required to serve another day.