Betty’s Week

By Betty Shearer


  Was up early last Wednesday morning, excited to be meeting Jim in Memphis later that afternoon. First it was paper delivery, which I did in record time. I was back in the office about seven—half an hour off the usual time. Did all the paper work and waited on customers.
    I had a call from David telling us that equipment was being delivered at the new brewery. Jack didn’t show up. Then a member of the plant management came by, told him I was sure Jack would be along shortly—Jack still didn’t come. Phone rang again and it was Jack. On his way to work he saw the activity at the plant, stopped to see what was happening and called to tell me he’d be late because he was making pictures.
    You really don’t have to tell Jack what to do—he’s always on top of the story. I left town shortly after this conversation, so I’ve not seen the pictures. We’ll all get to see what’s going on in this weeks paper.
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  I was off to Mom’s where Jimmie and I cooked desserts to take up to the Count Bastie Porkstra BBQ Team, participating in the Memphis in May Patio Division. Jim’s instruction was to bring a couple of pies.
    Jimmie and I reasoned that they’d be there for four days and would have lots of family and friends dropping by, so we’d better cook more. We cooked all Mom’s little stove would do on Wednesday and when we arrived at Memphis that night, we were glad we had.
    A gang had gathered and we discovered that ours were the only desserts. Did bake two chocolate pies and got the most unusual compliment (and the best) I’ve ever gotten on my pies. Tom Clarey said they were like eating chocolate angels. Now, isn’t that sweet.
  We also got to babysit Grand Caroline and this little doll is growing so fast. She’s such a good baby that you can still get all your work done while caring for her.
  Michael picked Caroline up at four and we met Bill at the shop—he went with us.
  We parked in the last parking spot before going into the south end of the park. In past years it’s been awful—looked like it was decorated for Halloween. You actually had to plow you way through cobwebs overhead and debris on the floor and there was very little light. I was afraid of spiders, other bugs, snakes and probably my dreaded lizards. We prepared Bill for the worst all the way up, telling him it was park here or else walk an extra mile. He thought if we could manage it, he rather not walk. Were we surprised when we found it all cleaned up, with lights and everything.
  Jim has a new phone—which he’d not yet completely learned to use. We’d been instructed to just call his cell when we had parked and he’d meet us at the gate with tickets. On family and friends night you can’t buy a ticket to get in. If you don’t have one you’re stuck outside. Jim had our tickets. He didn’t answer his phone.
    We walked on and about halfway to the gate Jimmie called again—still no answer. Got to the gate, called again, still no reply. A few minutes later the phone rang—it was Jim. He says I’m glad I checked my mail box, was wondering where you guys were?  He arrived in a few minutes and we were admitted. Had a great time. Ate ribs, pulled pork, baked beans, coleslaw, potato salad and Bill got to eat Jim’s barbecued shrimp—Jimmie and I are both allergic. Team Leader Tom Clarey is the grillmaster and does the ribs. All three of us vote his No. 1. They did come in 3rd and that  great for a patio team. The team also was No, 3 Overall and Jim says patio teams, who don’t want to move into the big league, really don’t want to win. If you win in the patio division you have to move into the big division, get corporate sponsors and all that stuff.
    The Count Bastie gang just want to go and have fun and come in a good second or third. Their chicken took third place, also. Jim’s shrimp was down from last year, but he was still happy.
  Food and fellowship was wonderful. Jim said he hadn’t planned to come back next year, but since they did so well, he’d probably be here. Jimmie and I are always ready for this event.
    Rance and Ginny expressed a desire for tickets, and probably more of the family will be going if he does come back.
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  Jim will be here until Friday morning. When he arrived at Mom’s late yesterday (Sunday) he said I don’t want any food for the rest of my stay. Shortly he was in the kitchen eating corn, peas, butterbeans, fried okra and cornbread. Then before we came on home last night, he had plans to eat with Ginny and Rance one night, Jimmie and Bill one night, and Bo was cooking him deer steak one night. He then remarked, “That leaves one night, what are we going to do?” I assured him we’d brought enough left overs to tide him over.
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  Attended the memorial service for Bobby Suratt and it was a very meaningful service. Rev. Harold Spraberry, pastor of First Presbyterian Church, was the principal speaker. Some of Bobby’s favorite scriptures and songs were also included on the program. Then friends, classmates and several members of the Rock and Roll Band, “Uncle Sam,” that Bobby helped organize and played with during its entire existence, gave tributes. Some were serious, some humorous, but all attested to the love, helpfulness, and concern Bobby had for everyone. We all knew that he loved everyone, always had a smile, and a was available to do anything for anyone—and he could. When Bobby and I visited in person or via phone our conversations ended with his ‘love ya and my I love you too. Each one paying tribute reported the same conclusions to Bobby’s visits. He did love us all.
  We’re all going to miss him so much, and condolences are offered to Daughter Tempe, the grands, and all the family.
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  Jim is here this week and he is doing some teaching. This is amazing. He can sit here in the Valley and teach summer school for New Mexico State, via the internet.
  What can be done electronically now is mind boggling and the age which this technology is learned is even more amazing. Sixteen month-old Briley can take his mom’s iPad, turn it on find his cartoons and games and play them. He can take her camera and make pictures. Bo says the other night he had the phone and was just snapping pictures of the car roof. He took the phone and turned it off. Gave it back to Briley and in a few seconds he heard click, click—making pictures again. In that short time Briley had found the button to turn the phone back on and was busy making him some more pictures.
    I don’t even know how to turn a phone on. Maybe Briley will teach me.

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