Category: Reflective Journal

The Vogue & the Uptown in Louisville

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I hadn’t thought of the Uptown Theatre in many years.  I lived in Louisville from abThe Uptown Theatre (c1979)out August of 1981 until about January of 1983 while attending the Southern Seminary there.  I recall sitting in this giant theatre, counting the seating (which I surmised was at least 900, but later found was 1,100) capacity.  I watched “An American Werewolf in London,” and recall several young children sitting down below me making a running commentary during the movie.  There was one part where they all said, “Don’t open the door.”  To which the actor on the screen, opened the door to hideous Nazi monsters who proceeded to enter the home and machine-gun the entire family.

I don’t recall what movie(s) I may have watched at the Vogue, but do recall once looking up and around the old theatre.  It was obvious that it had been a “showplace” at one time, but the plaster had fallen in several places by the time I was there.

[REMINDER 03/06/23]: There was an old restaurant that we seminary students would eat at sometimes. I think it was called LUMS, but I don’t think it was a chain. May have been Jewish. But you would walk through the front, and I think through part of their kitchen, and into a back dining room (with no windows). Seems like I recall heavy hamburgers.

Re-Gifting… Well, Re-Gift Bagging.

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For Christmas, my friend, Deborah, gave me a present of 12 year old Balsamic vinegar. The vinegar came from Green Gate Olive Oils in Pinehurst, NC. The bottle was smaller than a wine bottle, but shaped similarly, and the glass was dark brown. This was inserted into a red textured paper gift bag that had a fancy green artificial olive & olive leaf sprig secured to the bag. Green gift paper lined the bag.

The vinegar was delicious, and I kept the gift bag because I thought I might find some gift that would fit it in the future. However, the bag was too small for inserting a wine bottle.

I found a purpose to reuse the gift bag this morning, but more on that later.

I couldn’t remember the name of the shop where Deborah had bought the vinegar so I googled on “olive oil, Pinehurst” and quickly found the name and their home web site: Green Gate Olive Oils http://www.greengateoliveoils.com/the_home.cfm I was hoping to find a picture of the red gift bag displayed somewhere to include in this post, but not so.

As I scrolled through their site, I came across an cooking event which included Asparagus Soup with Parmesan Cheese. This sounded delicious and since I currently have a bunch of asparagus in my refrigerator (going bad), I googled to find “asparagus parmesan soup”. The first recipe I looked at sounded like what I was looking for http://www.care2.com/greenliving/asparagus-soup-parmesan-sprinkle.html

Asparagus Soup with Parmesan Sprinkle (2005).

INGREDIENTS

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
1 small onion, chopped
1 garlic clove, minced
2 1/2 pounds asparagus, tough ends snapped off, and cut into 1 1/2-inch lengths
4 cups good-quality vegetable broth
4 teaspoons freshly-grated Parmesan cheese
Salt and freshly-ground pepper, to taste

—-

Looking at some other recipes, I realized that adding a thickener to the pureed soup might be preferable, but “white flour” wouldn’t be the choice for a diabetic. I googled on “soluble fiber as soup thickener”. Actually, I googled on “soulble…”, but was corrected by Google.
That brought me to the following: http://www.konjacfoods.com/product/1.htm According to their site, “Konjac Glucomannan Powder” is an excellent soup thickener as well as ingestible soluble fiber.

I had my initial visit to Fayetteville Gastroenterology yesterday in preparation for my colorectal exam on April 26. The visit went well, although I had not thought that they would want to prod any further than I had initially thought. I did not realize that the operation would require me to be anesthetized and have someone to drive me home, or that I would have to give more blood and return a stool sample.

The nurse gave me two plastic bags with a total of 4 plastic, capped vials. Three of the containers contained some type of liquid and the fourth container was completely empty. I was told that if I was not able to return the sample, in the empty container, within a day, that I should freeze it. The bag had the reminder to “FREEZE” MICRO on the outside in large letters.

Well, I’m not sure how long ago I had to produce a stool sample, but I had little idea about how I was going to go about getting it in a pristine form. Fortunately, I had asked the nurse and she had offered several suggestions which guided me in the right direction.

I awoke about 4am and got up. I was a man on a mission. My first goal was to remove the water from the toilet bowl. This was so I could place a container in the bottom of the bowl. I took the lid off the water reservoir and tried to figure out how to make the refill “bobber” stop from refilling the bowl. I finally decided that I didn’t need to stop the refill process. I would just scoop out the water from the bowl and place my chosen receptacle at the bottom.

I went looking for a suitable receptacle. I passed by a cabinet with dishes, but thought that I would never be able to eat off of “that plate” no matter how many times I washed it. *I guess if I shuffled the plates after cleaning, and didn’t know the specific plate maybe that would have sufficed. However, I looked over to another shelf and saw a doggie bowl. I don’t have a dog. I haven’t had a dog since I was a young boy. I’ve had many cats as pets through the years. I had bought this doggie bowl because it had, I think, cartoon “dogs & cats” pictured around the outside. I was probably going to use it as a themed dinner vessel, for a dinner that never occurred.

So, I washed the bowl out and dried it, and took it to the bathroom. I placed the bowl at the bottom of the toilet bowl and it fit just fine.

Okay, so when I defecate, I usually urinate. That’s natural. Isn’t it? I urinated in anticipation of the “big event”. I then placed the seat down and turned around and sat down, scooting to the back of the seat and hoping that I wouldn’t need target practice. *Oh, what a mess that would have been. But, let me say, “Everything came out okay… and even right where it needed to go…

I opened the first vial. They were marked with a black highlighter pen as to the height they needed to be filled. The actual quantity of feces for each container was relatively small (thank God). Soon, I had all four containers filled and tightly screwed shut. I took the bag with the 3 vials in it to my front door. *I didn’t want to forget them. I then took the single vial and put that bag into my freezer.

I watched some TV, showered and dressed. But, while I was showering, I began to think about what I was going to say when I brought my baggies into the doctors’ office. I’m sure they have heard all the clichés. It was then that I thought I might say, “I’ve brought you some gifts,” and hand the receptionist the containers. As my mind works, I then thought that if you are giving someone a gift, you normally should wrap it nicely. No reusing a plastic grocery bag. This was something special. Then the thought came to me, “Why not see if the vials would fit in that fancy red gift bag that Deborah had given me.”

I finished showering, laughing several times in the shower, and once with the towel giftbag-olivebranchover my face as I dried my hair. I dressed and went looking for the gift bag. I found it. It was narrow, but if I removed the green gift wrapping paper, it might be possible. Sure enough, all four vials fit easily into the bag. I snipped the tag from the bag. The tag included a personal note from Deborah. [Imagine the illustrated bag being red.]

I walked out the door carrying my little red gift bag, and smiling to myself. Fayetteville Gastro is just a few minutes from where I live. I pass it quite often going to and from breakfast, and never knew it existed.

It was about 7am when I drove into the parking lot. There were no vehicles at any of the other businesses, and only about 10 right around FG. I saw lights on inside and walked in. As I came to the counter I saw that there was a nurse, on her knees, doing something behind the counter. She looked up and asked if I was there for an appointment. I said, “No. I’ve brought you some gifts.” “Some gifts,” she said as she looked at the little red bag. I said, “Well, there actually samples.” I think she realized what gifts I was leaving and she said, “I’ll just leave them over here on the counter.” I turned and said, “that’s fine, thank you,” and walked out.

I just recounted this event during Christmas dinner last (2025) and I mentioned that it was not my intention to embarrass or “make a fool of” the nurse.  I just hadn’t thought through the possibilities, and after I saw how excited she had been at first, and then how disappointed she was when she realized “gift” was not quite the correct term, no I didn’t mean that to be a result of my creativity.

ADDENDUM:  Okay, so I found the image of a bag that was much like the red one I had received.  http://wholesale.oliveoilsource.com/ Now that I look at this site, it makes Green Gate Olive Oils appear much less “unique” than I might have supposed.  Seems like this wholesale site is where you can go if you want to make a quaint little shop for selling olive oil, etc.  *But, I still enjoyed the Balsamic vinegar… and appreciate the gift;-)

Doing the “Freddy”

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I’m not sure if it was 1964 or 1965 when our class presented a show on the auditorium stage for the rest of the school.  I don’t recall much about it except for the following:

The song, “King of the Road” by Roger Miller was popular at the time, and I wanted to be a part of the group of boys that performed it, but at some point, I was put into a secondary group that was to do “the Freddy,” a dance, that went along with the song, “I’m Telling You Now” by Freddy and the Dreamers.   The moves of the dance were sort of like flapping your arms & legs like wings (you’ll see by the video).  Well, part way through the song, I noticed that people on the front row were beginning to point and laugh.  It was then that I looked down and found that my zipper was down.  I guess my two options would have been to reach down and zip it up, or turn around and zip it up… or (only two choices?), just keep dancing… which is what I did.

This was the Swansboro Elementary Cafeteria when I was in 1st through 5th Grades.  At the center, toward the back of this photo, there is a window.  This is where we took our food trays, dirty plates, and other garbage when we were through eating.  One day we had sauerkraut with our meal.  I didn’t like sauerkraut, so I didn’t eat that, and I didn’t finish the pint of Maola milk either.  I noticed that some boys were stuffing their empty milk cartons with their sauerkraut.  This was because there was one or more teachers standing where you took your tray to make sure we had eaten all our food.

I normally would not be bold enough to try this, but this day, I stuffed the sauerkraut into my half empty milk carton and walked up toward the window.  Apparently, the sharp eyed teacher had seen me.  She looked at my tray, and then lifted my milk carton, saying something to the effect, “Oh, you need to go back and finish your milk.”  Now, I believe that she knew exactly what she was doing.

I returned to the table and tried to swallow the sauerkraut and milk mixture, but after several attempts I went back to the window and left my tray.  I still do not like sauerkraut.  I like milk… but not sauerkraut!

Motivated by a Fraction.

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I read the following article, Final Lesson: You Don’t Get an A for Just Showing Up from the Faculty Focus web site, and it reminded me of something in my college past.

Many years ago, I took a class in which there were only 13 students. I don’t recall, but it might have been a Real Estate course. The instructor was Col. Joseph Dunn. My heart wasn’t in the course, and when the first test was handed back, that was revealed to me. Col. Dunn gave three grades for each test: a number grade .e.g. 83, 78, 92, etc.; a matching letter grade e.g. A+, B-, etc., and he also gave a fractional grade e.g. 2/13, 5/13, etc. I had never seen a fractional grade before, but this is what it represented. At first there were 13 students in the course, and that became the denominator. The numerator was how you ranked in taking that particular test, with number 1 being the best.

So, on the first test I received two grades that didn’t actually matter much. A letter grade and it’s matching number grade. But, the fractional grade I received was 12/13. Talk about having to deal with self-image, how cruel to actually know where you stood in relation to the rest of the class. But, this wonderful means of grading was just what I needed.

The student that received the 13/13ths fractional grade, on the first test, dropped the course shortly thereafter. But, when the second test came around I received a 2/12ths, and surprisingly the same grade on my final exam. I needed that motivator, and am thankful for it.

—

I came to UNC-W in the summer of 1975, took four courses and my grades were then good enough to attend there.  I had Col. Dunn for several classes, and then I graduated in the summer of 1976 after taking several courses.

Col. Dunn had white hair, not silver-gray, and it was cut in a way that reminded me of the Roman statues (just the head and bust).  I think most of us feared taking his classes because he would “bull-dog” you for answers, and might not even stop his questions when you said in exasperation, “I just don’t know.”  Does that sound like personal experience?-)  But, I recall that when he talked about how the moon looked over Three Rivers Stadium, he would say, “It was bootiful, simply bootiful.”

—

The following has nothing to do with Col. Dunn and the class, except that one time there were four of us (students) sitting in the back of the classroom talking.  It must have been before class started, and we had turned our desks so that we were all facing each other (as if we could have played cards).  Well, one of the other guys told a joke.  I actually think the guy was the one that received the 13/13 grade on the first test.  For most of my life, I was quick to get a quip or a joke.  Literally, if it took more than a fraction of a second, then something was wrong.  So when the joke was told, I didn’t “get it,” but I laughed anyway.  A girl said, “You didn’t get that did you,” to which I finally agreed, “no, I didn’t”.   The others just repeated the joke, with no other explanation, and no matter how many times they told it, I still didn’t get the joke.  Class started, and we all moved to our seats nearer the front of the room.

A week later, I was sitting in the back of the class, by myself as Col. Dunn was teaching, and all of a sudden I had a flash of insight.  I got the joke, that had been told a week before, and I laughed out loud.  The class turned around and looked at me quizzically, to which I just waved them off with my hands and mumbled something about getting the joke.

The joke?  Well, that’s difficult to write, because it was a play on the way the words sound, but here goes.  It came in the form of a question.  “Did you hear about the queer bear that laid his paw on the table?”  That’s it.  That is all there was to it, and yet it was so funny to think that my mind had to process it for a whole week before I understood it.

About the old home place…

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Here is the old two story, white house that I grew up in until about the 7th or 8th Grade.  Shown here, it is located on Queens Creek Road, directly across the street from the current Swansboro High School.  Until about the 1970s, the house was located at the corner of Queens Creek Road and Hwy. 24.  Shown below is the Swansboro Burger King.  The old white house was located about where the children’s play area is located, and facing Hwy. 24.  Sitting in the Swansboro Burger KingThe kitchen would have been about where the drive thru is located.

There were several tall old oak trees in theSwansboro Burger King at the corner of Hwy. 24 and Queens Creek Road front yard, which either by rot or other damage were eventually cut down.  There was a Gardenia bush that grew by the front steps.

There was a ditch that ran along the back of the house, just off from the kitchen.  It ran under Queens Creek Road in one direction and angled back to Hwy. 24 in the other.  There was a large vegetable garden about where GoGas is currently located.

NOTE [ 11/20/23 ]:  I’ve mentioned it elsewhere, but along the ditch that ran behind the house, off from the kitchen, there were several items planted.  There was a rose colored, flowering Crepe Myrtle tree.  The bark is soft and peels from the tree.  Next to it was what we called a “Mock Orange” plant, but many years later I found that wasn’t what it was actually called (a Trifoliate Orange) which had many long intertwined thorns and little, hard fruit about the size of a golf ball.  Then there was some space and there was a tall narrow Pomegranate bush/tree and beside this tree was a wooden plank which crossed the ditch in order to walk over to the pasture area and on to the “pack” house.  The ditch was deep and I dreaded crossing this narrow, bowed plank bridge, but I don’t think I ever fell into the ditch.  The ditch could be almost dry at times, and at other times, after a good, few days rain, it could be filled almost to the brim with clay colored rushing water.  At times, in the warm summer, the water would be low, but clear and trickling and many water plants growing just beneath the surface.  And when the water was just low enough, and when it was a warm summer day, I might get down in the ditch to bother one of the local crayfish, a freshwater crustacean.  The entrance to their lair would be a clay pillar along the side of the ditch bank.   And some of the clay, would be a beautiful smooth light gray color, which I would form into a small cannon ball.  Set on a shelf somewhere, the clay would eventually harden and become almost rock like.

There is a picture of me, taken by Mary Ann a week or so after my birthday, listed as “February 1960.”  I’m standing on the back porch, by the kitchen, on my bicycle with the limp bicycle chain, the mule across the ditch, behind my head, Lyde’s little “lumber jack” house, the old car and the Wisteria bush vines.

Lyde was one of several in the family that had Tuberculosis and needed to “live apart.”  There is another photo of Sis, smiling, sitting on the front steps of the McCain Sanitarium near Aberdeen, NC when she was recovering from TB.  I think the story is that Buddy (mom’s brother, a Merchant Marine) died grotesquely on the back porch, spitting up loads of lung and blood.  Mom having to get towels to soak up the mess.  I think the story goes that someone drove the dead brother up to the hospital in Jacksonville, maybe stopping by Sis’s house in Hubert along the way.  *I may have confused Buddy’s death with someone else’s, but in the story the dead man’s feet are sticking out the back of the station wagon he is being transported in.

Lyde’s little house was off the end of our kitchen.  It was small and a small, single bed ran from front to back.  I think there may have been a “hot plate” for heating coffee or simple cooking.  After Lyde died, the little house was sold, and went away.

And, because I grew up around people who had Tuberculosis, I test positive for TB each time I’m tested.  Apparently the area they prick you with, gets a little more red and “about the size of a quarter” if you are infected.  **I’m not pursuing the possibility, but I think at some point in my later adult life, I realized that if my health became poor, there was a possibility that the TB might try to take over.  Like something bad that, can be kept in check, but never really goes away.   ***Maybe like the way I feel about my pacemaker.  Yes, it was major surgery.  Well, any time someone operates on my heart, that’s major to me.  But after I healed, I have had no problems with the pacemaker.  It has done it’s job, keeping my heart rate from going too low (and me passing out)… and the drugs keeping my heart from beating too fast.

Some of What Was Beach Music for Me

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Some of this may not technically be considered Beach Music, but for me, growing up a mile from the North Carolina Coast in the 1960s & 70s, these were part of the mix:

Tell me that this wasn’t a surprise.  I always thought that this was a black group.  As I listened to the YouTube video the first time, I thought, “Now these guys could have been from North Carolina,” and then I found that they were from NC.  *”Girl Watcher” may be my No. 1 pick for Carolina “Beach Music,” although “My Girl”, “May I”, or “Up on the Roof”, are all close challengers.

So, this reminded me of WMBL 740 AM radio station from Morehead City, NC.  Craig Webber, Jay Cobb, and Duke Roberts were some of the DJs that I listened to in the late 60’s and early ’70’s.

*I lived in Hubert, NC with my ‘Aunt Sis’ (Carrie Kellum) and attended Swansboro High School (the one on Hwy. 24).  The “love of my life” was Debbie.  She lived in Cape Carteret.  There was just “Cape ‘C’ Shopworth” there at the time.  A convenience store.

I recall on one date, I drove from Hubert to Cape Carteret and picked Debbie up.  We drove all the way back to Jacksonville (which is about the same distance, in the opposite direction from her house) to see what was going on… only to decide to drive to Morehead City and see a movie there.  I’m thinking we might have seen Barbara Striesand in “Funny Girl.”  The movie Old movie theater in Morehead City, NCtheatre was new then, and still exists today, but not as a movie theatre.  *Debbie was a GREAT kisser!”

Bill Explores Fort Macon

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GoAnimate.com: Bill at Fort Macon

When I was growing up, going to Fort Macon, near Morehead City, NC was a real treat.  Mom and I would drive down there and she would let me explore the fort.  There are many dark, dank places to explore.  But, the State has also spent money to fix up some of the living quarters inside the fort, and to create interesting displays of life and weapons as they were then.

There’s Been a Change in the Weather, and a…

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—Addendum to Original Posting—

I didn’t have time to check out my “downgraded” cable services fully yesterday morning, but I might just end up like Br’er Rabbit saying, “Please, oh please.  Don’t throw me into the briar patch,” when in reality that is where I am most comfortable & secure.

I hooked up the coaxial cable directly to my HD TV (returning the HD Cable Box & remote) and started the Channel Search.  Well, when I start to manually surf through the channels, the first thing I find is that 4.1 UNC-TV is in HD.  This is one of my favorite channels and I get it in HD under Broadcast Quality Cable.  Next, I found that 5.1 WRAL was also in HD.  Probably the local channel that I watch the most including both morning & evening news.  Several other local channels are available in HD.  And, I still get SyFy and AMC, but in Low Def.  So, heck, “throw me in the briar patch.”

I also watched another Netflix movie, an old “Alfred Hitchcock Presents” and part of an “Inspector Lewis” (PBS episode).  And… I don’t have to watch a bunch of useless commercials, nor have the Lower Third of the screen have their channel logo, or some other animated advertisement going on while I am trying to stay focused on the show I am wanting to watch.

— Original Posting Below—

Whether the Economy is going to improve or not, I have been spending in key areas which amount to major changes for me.

Just before Christmas, I decided that I would purchase a BluRay DVD player. I had put off getting into this technology since I had not “been into” buying DVDs as I once did. Early into my research I read a posting that said that the PS3 game machine had a excellent BluRay player. I am not into gaming, although I’ve wasted many hours, in the past, playing assorted games on my PC. So, I thought, “Hmmm… a BluRay player and a game machine for just a little more than a player.” I really had not priced low-end BluRay players, so the price of the PS3 sounded reasonable.

I bought one “shoot/kill” game and a BluRay remote for the PS3 when I purchased the PS3 just before Christmas. The game was okay and I enjoyed playing it, but I’m not addicted to them as I have been in the past.

I had told Deb that a BluRay movie would be a good Christmas present for me, “Quantum of Solace,” the sequel James Bond film to “Casino Royal” (Daniel Craig as Bond.). *I really like Craig as Bond. Watching the Bourne movies, I had thought to myself, “Now this is the way Bond should have been portrayed.”

Surprise, Deb got me “Quantum of Solace” on BluRay disk. *I do not see a difference between the HD TV stations and the BluRay movie quality, but the crystal clarity of visual objects is fantastic. I need to get a sound system for my TV again.

Today (maybe yesterday) was the last day of a two year contract with Time-Warner for which I got all three services, Cable, Home Phone, and Internet for about $135 a month. A few days ago, I called the Time-Warner rep and downgraded/changed my service to just “Broadcast” stations (about 25 local) and upped to RoadRunner High Speed (10Mbps). This is supposed to be about $80 a month.

I don’t know if anyone will ever survey me on why I downgraded, but here are some of the reasons:

  • Over 200 channels, including some HD channels, of which I only watch about 20 channels (“Chiller” being the only non-HD channel that I regularly watch.)
  • The increasing invasiveness of the number and length of commercial breaks during movies/shows. Not only are there more commercials played, and played between shorter and shorter content segments, but they play the “same damned commercials over and over again,” often back to back.
    • I managed to get into the habit of muting the TV audio during commercial breaks. This is something that both relatives and friends have been doing for years.
  • The “SciFi” Channel became the “SyFy” Channel… moronic, but okay, until… the majority of weekly content became “ghosts & wrasslers”. What in the Hell does wrestling have to do with Science Fiction? *I know, it’s the audience demographics. I guess they could have added NASCAR racing and really made it a pleasure for me to not watch SyFy.
  • *This is not a reason for dropping Cable, but something that I do:  I “hate” the NC Education Lottery.  It’s just a sleazy process that has tied itself to a worthy cause.  So, when a Lottery commercial comes on WRAL, I automatically change the channel.  I often forget to come back to WRAL, even if I was engrossed in a show or movie.  I’m only one person, but if more did the same, maybe the State would finally get the message, “We don’t want a ‘damned’ lottery in this state!”

So, I had seen that I could play movies directly from my PS3 system. I hadn’t tried it (until last night). A week or so ago, Leo Taylor, a friend, mentor, & former boss, called me up and started telling me I should get Netflix. He was overdosing on watching movies. *Now this was unprompted. I hadn’t told Leo that I was thinking about trying this, and his call was “out of the blue.”

So, last night, I figured that I would see if Netflix movies via PS3 would work on the existing Earthlink High Speed Internet connection I had. I wanted to try it out before switching over the RoadRunner. It worked fine, once I figured out that the login name & password they were asking for (after I clicked on the Netflix icon on the PS3 screen) was a PS3 account (which I had not yet created) and not the Netflix account & password I had created the day before. *I watched “District 9” which was somewhat disappointing. What was the James Caan movie and then spinoff TV series about aliens (humanoid like) who came to Earth much like the aliens in D9? “Sam Francisco” being one of those alien-human appellations. You’ve got to know how to develop characters quickly, so that even though you’ve only seen them on the screen for a few minutes, you can cry when they die as if they were old friends. This rarely happened in D9.

Before I left for work this morning, I turned on the TV and noted that Time-Warner had already made the requested changes to my service (although I didn’t check the RoadRunner portion yet). I’ll have to hook the cable directly to the TV now and fish out the TV remote instead of using the Cable remote, which along with the HD box, I need to return to TWC this week.

So, I’ve dropped home phone (and let no friends or relatives know yet). On my birthday, I finally got online at Amazon.com and ordered a HTC Hero (Android) phone for 1 cent, with a $69 plan that eventually will probably cost $80 or $90 dollars a month, if I don’t call land lines. This plan gives me unlimited data, which is after all what I use the phone for anyway. *I’m going to see if I can make it easy to re-route my office phone to my cell nightly.

The Saturday before my birthday, I drove down to Lumberton. I was only going to take a test drive, but ended up buying a new white Honda Civic (with sun roof and 6 speaker system). I’m planning to give my Dodge RAM 1500 truck to my sister. Going from a 16 MPG to hopefully 36 MPG vehicle. The truck is larger and supposedly safer, but the little white Honda feels comfortable. Reminds me a little of the MG Midget that I had for a short time in my twenties. That was the lowest to the ground vehicle I’ve ever driven, and a lot of fun (a lot of headaches too).

Glen’s Landing

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I can see that I’m not in the mood to tell the story of Glen’s Landing today, but I wanted to get something down so that I can come back later and rewrite it coherently. I’ve written about it before, because Glen’s Landing was one of those sanctuaries from the world. When visited, there was nothing that could harm you, except perhaps stepping on an oyster shell.

Glen Matthews ran a “fish” house some years ago. My “Aunt Sis” would take me down there when she wanted to get some fish or other type of seafood. You could tell that they were old, good friends that were comfortable with each other and didn’t have to “put on airs.”

cocacolacooler

Sis would ask Glen what type of fish he had and he would start telling her and might even go over to one of the coolers filled with layers of ice and fish to scratch through the ice and pull up perhaps a fat flounder, or a couple of spots or maybe even mullets. *There was a Pepsi cooler with assorted drinks pushed down into the ice. I liked getting a “Chocolate Soldier,” which was a watery chocolate drink. There might be a reformed drink cooler set aside to keep fish cool.

I don’t recall exactly where the shrimp, scallops and oysters were, but those were also delicious options.

This house had been a private residence for several years. This is my first visit in a long time that leads me to believe that the location may once again be open for fishing business. I see the several boats and trucks parked as some might have been back when Glen ran his fish house and had a ramp for “putting in” to Queens Creek.

I can see that the docks are still located in about the same place as they had been when Glen was alive. But, the large A frame house was not what was there. Glen had a little one story A frame house, with a large barn-type door at the front and a smaller door at the back. The back door opened out onto a covered deck which had several weather grayed picnic tables, and off to one side, a raised trough system for scaling and cleaning fish. Glen would start a spigot of water and then start cleaning a fish. The scales and guts of the fish would wash down the trough and eventually make their way to a gutter which allowed the entrails to plop down into Queens Creek. Not sure that would be allowed today, but since it was all bio-degradable, I don’t see why not.

Eels and crabs would congregate at the water’s edge where the “fish guts” became a feast.

Fishermen used Glen’s boat ramp to put their small boats into and remove them from Queens Creek. The Intra-Coastal Waterway was just a short distance from this location. Glen had a gas pump so that the boaters could fill up their little red gas tanks.

There were oyster shells, being bleached by the sun, which formed part of the boat ramp. The ramp then became poured concrete which slipped from view down into the sometimes brownish (rootbeer) creek. *I would often be barefoot during the summer, and in shorts. If it was the start of the summer, just as shoes had come off after the long Winter and school days, and my feet were still tender, I might step across the shells as if walking across something hot. But, after my soles became calloused, walking across the oyster and clam shells was not an obstacle.