Friday, July 17, 2009

Important things in Texas

Double dipped on the BBQ today; Stubbs for lunch and The Salt Lick for supper. I may not eat for a week (unless I happen to drive by Big Bob Gibson's tomorrow or the next day.

I am fuller than you.

We also went to the Round Rock Express game tonight and happened on former USC star Justin Smoak playing for Oklahoma City. Cool. Game!

Saturday, July 11, 2009

Important things in Vegas

Just got back from Lotus of Siam. Drunken Noodle Sea Bass, Braised short ribs with Panang, sticky rice with mango, and coconut ice cream. All kinds of awesome.

Thursday, July 09, 2009

On the Road















Saturday, June 06, 2009

Overlord


Reprinted from last year with a few corrections.


I wonder if Uncle John Lloyd is in any of those photos you see of Ike visiting the paratroops the eve before D-Day. I wonder why he volunteered to switch companies and jump, as his unit was not scheduled to. Was he embarrassed he had been stricken with appendicitis soon after jumping into Sicily? He had already been through about the most rigorous training the Army had to offer. He had nothing to prove to anyone but himself I suppose. I wonder how my Dad felt on the day the Western Union man came to the door, fifteen years old and losing his favorite brother so soon after losing his Dad in a train accident. How did Granny handle it? I know she turned to prayer and belief in God's will. Is that the time Dad lost his faith?

John Lloyd had not been home since he had left over two years before. I suppose he wrote letters as that is what you always see in the old movies. Today, the troops are able to keep in touch through blogs and cell phones. Imagine someone having to call home from the belly of a C-47, "No, I can talk. The light is still red. Yeah. We're about to jump. Don't worry. It's what we've been trained to do. I said don't worry. Alright, every body's standing up, I've got to go. Yes. Yes. Yes. I have it all. Kiss the kids. The light's green. I love you."

I wonder about the last time my Dad spoke with him. What did John Lloyd tell him when he left? To take care of their Mother? Uncle Monk was joined up and gone by then. Uncle George was blind. Two of the three girls were already grown and out of the home. The young teen was going to be the only sighted male in the house for awhile.

My youngest Aunt was seventeen and was too busy to go to the prayer meeting at Ebenezer Church on June 5, 1944. She went out with her friends instead. To this day, she feels ashamed she was not there to pray for the troops and her brother. It's silly to think that way of course, but she still speaks bitterly of herself when she remembers that day sixty four years ago.

He was first buried in a temporary grave as most were. The family had a choice to bring his body home later as so many did. They decided to allow him to remain where he fell, a solemn marble cross marking his final resting place alongside thousands of others. Granny never saw his grave. I don't know if she ever flew in her life. Her faith told her she would see her boy again. Whole. Healthy. Shining that sly smile that runs in that side of the family. The smile I see on my oldest already. There are photos of the temporary grave. Uncle Monk must have been able to find it during his time there. In the Ardennes, he ran into member's of John Lloyd's unit. They spoke fondly of their fallen comrade, but there was other work still to do. The other children made the trip over the years, some more than once, finding tangible proof of their family's sacrifice noted in a peaceful field overlooking the Channel. One day I will make that journey. I plan to sit and talk to him. I expect my children will ask, "Mommy, why is Daddy crying?" She'll have a good answer. She usually does. Then, I'll probably pull them all close to me and hug them fiercely, as I am sure Granny did with John Lloyd when he left Florence County for the last time in 1942. As I am sure she would have given almost anything to do so again every day for the next thirty-six years.

From The State Newspaper

John Lloyd Johnson Jr., of Florence, was a sergeant in the 505th Parachute Infantry Regiment. His brother, W.W. Johnson, of West Columbia, visited his grave at Normandy for the first time on Memorial Day last year.

“It affected me more than I expected that it would,” he said. “I was 15 when he died. He was my older brother, and he was my hero.”




John L. Johnson, Jr.

Sergeant, U.S. Army

505th Parachute Infantry Regt, 82nd Airborne Division

Entered the Service from: South Carolina
Died: 6-Jun-44
Buried at: Plot F Row 21 Grave 28
Normandy American Cemetery
Colleville-sur-Mer, France
Awards: Purple Heart


Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force!
You are about to embark upon the Great Crusade, toward
which we have striven these many months. The eyes of
the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty loving
people everywhere march with you. In company with
our brave Allies and brothers-in-arms on other Fronts,
you will bring about the destruction of the German war
machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed
peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free
world.
Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is
well trained, well equipped and battle-hardened.
He will fight savagely.
But this is the year I944 ! Much has happened since the
Nazi triumphs of I940-4I. The United Nations have inflicted
upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle,
man-to-man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced
their strength in the air and their capacity to wage
overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of
war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained
fighting men. The tide has turned ! The free men of
the world are marching together to Victory !
I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to
duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less
than full Victory !
Good Luck ! And let us beseech the blessing of Almighty
God upon this great and noble undertaking.

Monday, May 11, 2009

Race Weekend

I think I was sick more in April than I was well. I got well enough to make it to Darlington over the weekend for the only race that matters. We got there on Friday and camped out for the first time, watching both races.





The walk into the main gate.










Before the rubbing starts. They put a fresh coat of paint on after the Nationwide race the night before.





Ready to go green.




South Carolina sky. We get this almost every night.






And Michael gets confused and goes the wrong way.





The "stripe" doesn't care where you are from.





Or how young you are.




Tried to get a shot of Mrs. Harvick. Yow.




Going to need a new paint job before next year.





Tried to take a photo of the post-race fireworks and couldn't hold the camera still. Look at the eerie # 5s in the photo though. Mark Martin was everywhere.

Tuesday, April 07, 2009

National Anthem--Oh Say Can You Sing?

This is Cyndi who works in my office. She is hoping to sing the National Anthem on flag Day in Washington D.C. Please take a moment to comment at Youtube if you can.

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Well, I got a flash for ya, joy-boy.

On the way to work this morning, I saw a sign for the Midlands Church for the Deaf. The Baptist Church sitting directly in front of the Church for the Deaf had a Marquee that read, "SONGS OF JOY" This Sunday. Mean old Baptists.

I feel as though I am cheating on my regular restaurant. TO be perfectly frank, the other place has better pancakes of which I can get three of, two eggs, and sausage for $3.50 Coffee adds .95 On Saturday, that translates to about a $15.00 savings when I take the whole family. Things are tough all over.


At the Wednesday night game, the small game has moved into our room to play. It is the only room in the building that allows smoking so now I have to put up with twice as much of that. A definite positive though, is there is a player in the little game that sounds exactly like Phillip Baker Hall. I am going to ask him to read the Bookman solioquy from Seinfeld. I don't think I would be able to stand it.

BOOKMAN: Well, let me tell you something, funny boy. Y'know that little stamp,
the one that says "New York Public Library"? Well that may not mean
anything to you, but that means a lot to me. One whole hell of a lot.
Sure, go ahead, laugh if you want to. I've seen your type before:
Flashy, making the scene, flaunting convention. Yeah, I know what you're
thinking. What's this guy making such a big stink about old library
books? Well, let me give you a hint, junior. Maybe we can live without
libraries, people like you and me. Maybe. Sure, we're too old to change
the world, but what about that kid, sitting down, opening a book, right
now, in a branch at the local library and finding drawings of pee-pees
and wee-wees on the Cat in the Hat and the Five Chinese Brothers?
Doesn't HE deserve better? Look. If you think this is about overdue
fines and missing books, you'd better think again. This is about that
kid's right to read a book without getting his mind warped! Or: maybe
that turns you on, Seinfeld; maybe that's how y'get your kicks. You and
your good-time buddies. Well I got a flash for ya, joy-boy: Party time
is over. Y'got seven days, Seinfeld. That is one week!


Get your brackets in. Two words: Wake Forest.