Literature Network Forums - Blogs - Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia by Pendragon

Literature Network Forums - Blogs - Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia by Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?6613-Ramblings-from-the-Blue-Ridge-Mountains-of-Virginia The largest classic literature discussion forum on the Internet. Read Write Teach Share. en Thu, 04 Jun 2026 12:45:27 GMT vBulletin 10 https://www.online-literature.com/forums/images/misc/rss.jpg Literature Network Forums - Blogs - Ramblings from the Blue Ridge Mountains of Virginia by Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/blog.php?6613-Ramblings-from-the-Blue-Ridge-Mountains-of-Virginia Mom https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?13211-Mom Fri, 13 Dec 2013 12:29:35 GMT Sunday, my mother lost her battle with illness and passed away peacefully in her sleep. I thought I was prepared as we knew three months ago that she... Sunday, my mother lost her battle with illness and passed away peacefully in her sleep. I thought I was prepared as we knew three months ago that she was on her deathbed, but I am just coping barely. She was really the only parent I had as my father had nothing to do with us from the time I was eight. His death meant little as he was my father but not my daddy, a marked difference.

Thanks to all of you who have been here for me, who have put up with my illness flaring up, who have encouraged me and made me think about a lot of things,

God Bless you one and all

Dale L Harris
(Pendragon, or to many of you, Uncle Pen) ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?13211-Mom Musings https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?13014-Musings Fri, 14 Jun 2013 10:54:57 GMT John.18

[38] Pilate saith unto him, What is truth?

Funny thing about truth. Most people don't want to hear it. It is not found in popular opinion. people would rather have their own sweet delusions than to be forced to accept that it is what it is. Everyone has their own version, and most steadfastly refuse to upgrade. Lies are repeated twenty million times more than the truth. Take facebook for an example:

You may have heard that it is best not to discuss religion or politics. True, but sometimes it is best to not discuss anything. If you take the time, research a stated problem and post the truth it will never change popular opinion. People have selective memories cherished opinions, and cling to them like a wad of cleever vines. It does no good to site any authority, for their will be another authority with the extreme opposite view whom those who disagree can point to as well.

There was a movie out some time ago that I read about in which a man who specialized in lying, ( I think it was Liar, Liar staring Jim Carey) is suddenly forced to tell the truth no matter what. If that happened to most of us, very likely all of us, it would destroy society as we know it. An old quote is: "You can't handle the truth!"

It's not that we can't, it's that we don't want to have to accept it.

I am a member of several forums where we discuss various ideas and subjects that can have a an infinity of possibilities. One rule of them all is: If you cannot accept criticism, don't post. For times when we might want to discuss something with an individual member, there are private messages. No public trash talking is allowed under penalty of being dismissed from the forum.

Think about that the next time you see a post with which you disagree. You may be ready to fire off a rapid response belittling the other person. You may immediately want to block the post, delete it, or unfriend the person. But ask yourself: Is it because I am offended or could it be that I cannot accept criticism, I will not accept any opinion that is contrary to my own, or that I think calling the person names like "liar" will somehow build me up?

The truth will set you free. Meantime, i think things are fairly snared up down here on planet earth!

God Bless

Pen ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?13014-Musings New Granddad in Town https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?12647-New-Granddad-in-Town Fri, 09 Nov 2012 02:33:48 GMT Announcing the birth of my Grandson, Logan Michael Kohari, born 11/6/2012 at Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville. My wife and I were there at... Announcing the birth of my Grandson, Logan Michael Kohari, born 11/6/2012 at Vanderbilt University Hospital in Nashville. My wife and I were there at the hospital when they wheeled him over to Premmie Care. He was at 31 weeks. Still he weighed 3 pound, 11 ounces and was 15 inches long. He can breathe on his own and is beginning to take milk. My daughter Summer will breast feed him. He is expected out of the hospital possibly before thanksgiving, at least by Christmas! I can't wait! :drool5::drool5::drool5: ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?12647-New-Granddad-in-Town The snitch https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9245-The-snitch Tue, 10 Nov 2009 20:24:42 GMT *THE SNITCH Every hunter or fisherman is after the same thing—a trophy. The hunter wants a deer/elk/moose/pronghorn that will make Boone and... THE SNITCH

Every hunter or fisherman is after the same thing—a trophy. The hunter wants a deer/elk/moose/pronghorn that will make Boone and Crocket. The fisherman is after a bass/walleye/trout that he or she can hang on the wall to make others envious. That is where the snitch comes in.

I’m not speaking here of human snitches, although heaven knows that they are bad enough. The human snitch is one who gives out bad information in order to make others fail in their quest to gain their trophies.

I’ve heard it all before. The hunter will say something along these lines: “Well, you can’t eat antlers!” They say this with a straight face, usually while relaxing in their easy chair right under a mounted deer head, or surrounded by mounted racks. They give advice in reams about exactly where you can get that trophy buck. If you have the slightest common sense, you will ignore this as it is certain to make you fail.

Likewise if a fisherman offers to allow you to fish that fishing hole that always produces fish, find another hole. If there were trophy fish there, they’d be fishing the hole themselves.

Contrary to what non-hunters think, a hunter doesn’t just jump up and decide to take off hunting. No. They have a long amount of preparation. If they are hunting this season, the preparation will have begun at the end of last season. They will be out scouting game trails, examining tracks, and looking for peeled saplings. By the time the actual hunt takes place they will have a detailed map of where they plan to hunt stored away in the vast reaches of their mind.

Likewise, fishermen will be scouting fishing holes, scouring the lakes with state of the art fish finders, and examining every dead insect along the banks of their favorite cheek. Their mind is obsessed with actually tying in to a big fish, and no detail is small enough to be simply ignored.

Now comes the snitch. It goes something like this: You have by careful analysis determined the optimum hunting area. You get in before the crack of dawn using every trick in a hunter’s arsenal to ward against betraying your presence to the game you are seeking. This includes camouflage, scents, deer stand, etc. You set up shop and wait for that trophy buck. Then the crows take off chattering all the way.

Cursing the crows, you pray that they haven’t given your position away. You could save that thought, it is far too late. The snitch has been alerted.

About a mile away your trophy buck raises his head, thanking his good friends the crows. He sidles up to a little button buck.

“Pst! Hey, bud. Yes, you. You know, I’m really sorry I teased you about your rack.” He lowers his head to stifle his snort of laughter. “I’m gonna make it up to you, what say? You like apples, right? Well, there’s a good apple tree about a mile over that way.” He gestures with his outstanding rack. “They’re all yours. Bon apatite!”

The button buck falls all over himself thanking the big buck. “Gosh! I thought you didn’t like me! You’re a pal, man!” The button buck dashes off while the trophy buck snickers. The button buck comes right up to you, looking around in vain for the promised apples. The trophy buck cocks his head, listening for the shot. Dang! You passed on the button buck.

Now he goes over to a nice spike buck and repeats his story, using acorns this time, as he knows the spike to love them. The spike offers the excuse that he’s standing ankle deep in acorns at the moment. The trophy pooh-poohs the spike’s answer.

“The acorns down there are much better. If I didn’t have to watch these does, I’d be eating them myself. Then I thought of you. No sense wasting good acorns, is there?” The spike dashes your way, and the trophy listens again for the shot. Blast it! You passed on the spike as well, although it was tempting.

Now the trophy glances around. There is that four-pointer that he thrashed the other day for making eyes at his does. Perfect patsy! He comes up with a new story.

“Pst! Hey, bud! You know that little doe you liked? I saw her go down that way a little while ago. Why don’t you go down and make yourself better acquainted? Yeah, I know I beat you up, but I’m making amends, guy. I’m sorry. She’s waiting down that game trail, about a mile, OK?”

The four-pointer, hormones ablaze, dashes off down the trail. This time, you decide that that’s a pretty good rack and after all, you can’t eat antlers. So you take the shot. The trophy buck fairly dances with glee. Snitching worked, and now he can go about his business in peace. Of course, that’s when your buddy kills him.

Later back in camp, your buddy offers to give you advice on hunting, pointing out that you were only a mile away.

His story of the hunt will always include that fact. “When I got this here trophy buck, ol’ Bob, (if that happens to be your name), was only a mile away. Bob had to settle for a four-pointer while I got this baby! Made Boone and Crocket, don’t ya know?”

Ah, I do believe that it is a felony to shoot hunting partners, even if they insist on telling the same story over and over unless your name happens to be Dick Cheney. But I digress.

Thoroughly disgusted, you grab rod and reel and head off to your favorite fishing hole licking your wounds. A good fishing trip should sooth your frayed nerves. Meanwhile, a trophy bass is sidling up to a mere fingerling and saying:

“Pst! Hey, bud!”

:lol: :lol:
]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?9245-The-snitch Black Thursday… https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8933-Black-Thursday… Sun, 20 Sep 2009 15:01:31 GMT *Black Thursday… Perhaps I would feel much better if I get this all written down, step by step as it occurred. Perhaps it will serve to show how,... Black Thursday…

Perhaps I would feel much better if I get this all written down, step by step as it occurred. Perhaps it will serve to show how, for people like myself, an ordinary day can go to hell in a hand basket before you can blink. I dunno, but here goes.

I got up Thursday morning, as is my wont, and went to the lake fishing at first light. Now I was having a wonderful time, pulling one fish in after another, when I caught the biggest fish I’ve caught this year, a monstrous carp. That’s when things began to go downhill.

First of all, although I landed the fish, it snapped my pole about 1/3 of the way down. This aggravated me to no end, but what was worse is I had to throw it back. There’s a regulation at the lake that says you cannot keep grass carp. However, I don’t know the difference between grass carp and other carp. And from what I have been told, neither do the rangers. Strike two.

I came home very much miffed, fixed my breakfast, and began to plan the rest of the day. I had an appointment with my counselor at 11:00, so I figured I’d swing by Walmart and get a new pole, then go to my appointment. My truck decided not to start. Strike three.

A neighbor was kind enough to help me work on my wayward vehicle, and I made it to my meeting. For once, I decided that we were never going to work on my issues unless I was honest and forthright. Everyone has heard the old saying, “Honesty is the best policy.” I beg to differ. Sometimes it’s best just to lie your *** off.

I told her that I knew I wasn’t out of the woods yet. I told her that I thought I had been released from the hospital too soon. I told her that I fear suicide. There’s another three strikes.

I was asked to take a new appointment with Dr. I, which I refused, saying I might not be there then. What I didn’t say was that I have an appointment with my new doctor on the 25th, because if it doesn’t work out, I am forced to continue with my current physician.
Now I am many things, but a fool isn’t one of them. I knew from their body language and facial expressions that they were not gonna just let it alone. So I took my sweet time in leaving, taking extra time in the bathroom, standing on the porch smoking a cigarette, and waiting outside my truck for the call to come talk with crisis. No dice.

I came home, fixed lunch, walked the dog, watched a movie, and then decided to go fishing again. Now remember, my original appointment was at 11:00, and I left around 20 minutes after twelve. It is around 4:00 that I, while placidly fishing (and catching fish), was approached by two policemen with a temporary custody order. For what, I asked. I was just fishing, no danger to myself or others, but to make a long story short, I had to go with them.

Looked like they had over half the force there, plus a State Trooper and a Game Warden… I was asked to turn over anything dangerous in my pockets, such as my fishing knife, and still was searched three times by three different people.

I got my first double take when I got in the police car. The Officer I was riding with watched me pull on my seat belt. “Just between you and me, Mr. Harris,” he said, “You don’t have to wear that SOB if you don’t want to. I hate them, and I never wear mine.” I told him I was in the habit of obeying the law, and seat belts were the law. He grinned and put his own belt on.

I was taken to the local jail, where I had to wait endlessly for the Mental Health worker to show up. I commented that if they had taken all the trouble to get a manhunt out after me, the MH Worker could have been there when I arrived. One Deputy snorted. “Ain’t that the truth! I was supposed to be off shift around 20 minutes ago!”

We smoked and swapped fishing stories, and then I got my second double take. One Officer leaned over and told me that for a man in my position, i.e., wound tight as a drum, a little marijuana would really help acting as a relaxant. This from the same people that would arrest me if I even had the smell of pot on me! OK. Maybe file that away for the future. Or maybe it’s best to forget I ever heard it.

Finally the worker arrived. Of course, I had to explain and defend every single word I had said that day. I was asked leading questions (I believe that is illegal in a court of law, but, hey, I don’t have any rights!), she attempted to trip me with my own words, (forget that, I have an excellent memory and a high IQ), she blustered and tried to make me angry. I was prepared for all the mud she could sling, as I had anticipated this move, (but not after a good four hours, for God’s sake! Had I been intending to commit suicide, I had ample time. Hey, do you know the number for 9-1-1? You think someone needs help, they need it immediately, if not sooner.)

I told her that I had expected to have to talk to crisis, and described my actions upon leaving the clinic. I even saw the two nurses whom I trust explicitly, come out and thought they were coming to talk to me and actually took a step or two in their direction, but they suddenly turned as though they had forgotten something and leisurely walked back inside. The MH Worker agreed it could and should have been handled better.

Finally, she said she was going to let me go home, and not be aggravated about the matter. Too little, too late for that one. I was furious! Totally ruin my day, embarrass me in front of other people, drag me off to jail (I narrowly escaped handcuffs and the “cage” in the back of a patrol car as if I were some dangerous fugitive! Heck, I didn’t get that when I came down after my suicide attempt!)

So let me wind up by saying this: Never say a day is so bad that it cannot get worse. Yes, it absolutely can, faster that you could ever expect it to snowball! I assure you that I am living proof of that! ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8933-Black-Thursday… I Fish, Therefore I Am…….Crazy https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8910-I-Fish-Therefore-I-Am……-Crazy Mon, 14 Sep 2009 18:28:06 GMT * I am an avid fisherman. Almost every morning finds me on the lakeshore somewhere. I have a choice between several fine lakes in the area, so there...
I am an avid fisherman. Almost every morning finds me on the lakeshore somewhere. I have a choice between several fine lakes in the area, so there is no chance of me being bored.

Let me state for the record, however, that I think fishermen everywhere to be slightly demented. I mean we exaggerate the size of fish caught, the amount of fish caught, how we managed to entice them so that we could catch them in the first place, and brag about the “one that got away.” (I find that particularly disturbing. I mean why would we brag about losing a big fish? It makes no sense whatsoever.)

I also find that fishermen are some of the most opinionated people on the planet. Nor are they adverse to loudly sharing such opinions. Take my fishing experiences, for example.

The loudmouths usually start with my fishing pole. OK, so I don’t own a rod and reel that cost me more than $15. I don’t go down to the nearest Bass Pro Shop and blow over $100 on a fancy fishing pole. I’m not after marlin, here in these lakes. The largest fish might be a striped bass, a catfish, or maybe a pike. I usually catch catfish, large and small mouth bass, bluegill, sun perch, red-eyes (rock bass), etc. My pole handles them just fine, thank you. Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

Then it is the way I rig my pole. I use only a weighted foam bobber, and a size 6 hook. I am always told that nobody ever caught fish like that, you need a sinker. Also a smaller or larger hook is advised, depending on the other fisherman. Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

My tying on of hooks really gets them going. “Don’t you know how to tie a fishermen’s knot? That hook will come right off!” Yes, I do. I learned about 10 years before you were born. But I’m nearing the big 5-0, and my eyesight isn’t what it was, and I generally forget my glasses. But my hooks will stay on, you bet that! Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

Then they go on and on because I use surgical scissors to cut my Nightcrawlers (earthworms) into smaller pieces rather than tear them with my fingers. That is, if they don’t tell me I’m using the wrong bait. And I keep a wet rag around to clean my hands, which also seems to be a source of amusement for other fishermen. So my way is less messy, and do you mind if I reel in this fish?

The time of day I fish is always wrong with other fishermen. I start just before or right at sunup. That’s too early, the water will be too cold—that’s what they say. If I go in the evening, just before sundown, or night fish, that seems to be a problem as well. “The only things that will bite are the mosquitoes!” If I go in the middle of the day, they say the fish will see my shadow and not bite. I’m reminded of a quote that I would credit the author if I remembered who it was. “Twilight: That time that separates the period when the fish don’t bite because they can see the line from the period when the fish don’t bite because they can’t see the lure!” Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

Actually catching fish is another good way to entice comment. So I don’t pull the line for every small nibble. A group of teenagers called me “an f*****g retard” over this recently. Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

And when I do set the hook I am unfavorablely compared to Master Bass Fisher Roland Martin. Old Roland had a TV show, (might still have, I dunno, I don’t own a TV), and his standard move was to yank like he was trying to pull out a mired up car, and say in a grunt: “Uh, Son, that’s a big one!” My kids fish with me and comment “That was an ‘uh, son’ dad!” Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

Places I go to fish also cause comment. “You won’t catch fish in there, too much snag-ups!” Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

“Hey, you aren’t gonna have any luck there, no cover in which the fish can hide!” Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

My catch and release brings up comment as well. I fish often below the spillway at the Hungry Mother Park dam. They have a nice concrete walk there, wide enough for my camp chair and gear. But I release all the fish I don’t keep downstream, not back into the hole. I have a really good reason for this. As a teenager, I fished every inch of that creek from where it enters the lake to where it exits into the river down on the golf course. Now I know other kids are doing the same thing, so I’m sending them some fish to catch. Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

Fish that I keep can keep other fishermen going on ad infinitum. I never saw a catfish or red-eye too small to keep. I also eat carp, which others claim are inedible. Maybe they should learn to cook, yeah? Do you mind if I reel in this fish?

Then there are the stupid remarks to which I will add my own snappy replies, (Thanks, Al Jeffee, of Mad Magazine, father of Snappy Answers to Stupid Questions!)

“Well, there’s fish in there!” Really? And here I thought I had found a good place to waste my time!

“Look, dude, you’re getting a bite!” Oh, is that why my bobber is going down! Silly me, I thought it was a good day for gravity!

“Well, they’ll hit Nightcrawlers!” Yeah? Where would a fish get a taste for worms, at a restaurant under the lake where it is “The Catch of the Day?”

“Wonder how deep it is right there?” Deep? No, it’s shallow water. Won’t hardly get your feet wet, assuming you stay where you are. Do you know how to swim well?

“Ya got to leave the bait there and wait on the fish.” No joke. I thought I could make them bite…

“What you need is a boat.” On my to-get list, as soon as my rich Uncle gets out of the poorhouse… (a Southwest Virginia saying.)

“Whooo-eee! I can see the fish in there! There goes a nice ‘un!” So shut up and fish, moron! Ya wanna borrow my glasses so you can see ‘um better? Sheesh!

“Now, them catfish will sting the living daylights out of you!” Is that a fact? You know, in nearly 40 years of fishing, you’d just think that I would have learned that by now!

"Now, what you gotta do is…” All right, already! Shut the [insert bad word here] up and leave me the [insert bad word here] alone you misbegotten [serious bad word here]! Find yourself another hole before I throw you in!

Good Lord! There’s only so much a person can stand!
]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8910-I-Fish-Therefore-I-Am……-Crazy Friends https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8870-Friends Fri, 11 Sep 2009 00:44:52 GMT I've had good reason lately to think about the meaning of the term "friend". You see, when I attempted suicide the other Sunday, the man who talked me out of it stated that we had been friends for 30 years.

I thought about that long and hard over the next days. I appreciate what he did for me, but was he truly a "friend"?

Did he ever write in thirty years? No.
Has he ever called in thirty years? No.
Did we visit each other, did our kids play together (outside of school, they went there together, and graduated together.) No.
E-mail? No.

Friends write, even a quick note.
Friends call, when they know your number, and especially when they live in the same town.
Friends visit together, go places together if at all possible.
Friends e-mail you, even if it is just a forward to some funny or touching chain-mail.

So where are my true friends? Here on this forum. You leave me notes and poems. You PM me, even to ask advice. You give me feedback on my own poetry and stories, and you hold me in prayers, good vibes, kind thoughts and real concerns.

So I will come out of hiding, and let you contact me anyway you want: (I talked to Rich on the phone not too long ago, [sorry, Rich, I couldn't find your number when I needed you, and still can't])

Anyway:

Phone: 276-782-2193

E-mail: darkendale@gmail.com
Address: Dale Harris
406 Stone Way
Atkins, VA 24311
USA

Personal visit? Virgina Interstate 81
Exit 50
Call me from the gas station, it's actually within walking distance from where I live.

If I could, I would love to visit you all, but a fixed income only goes just so far...

Love you each and every one, my true support group and dearest friends... :nod::nod::nod: ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8870-Friends <![CDATA[Mr. Howard's Day of Reckoning]]> https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8475-Mr-Howard-s-Day-of-Reckoning Thu, 02 Jul 2009 13:29:18 GMT *I had this story in the contest and removed it at my own request. You see, it is historical fiction, and we deal with the world on this site. I... I had this story in the contest and removed it at my own request. You see, it is historical fiction, and we deal with the world on this site. I couldn’t expect people to know facts that I myself have researched over a number of years.

I have dug through newspapers of the time, read biography after biography, and even read some of the gangs memoirs, such as Cole Younger’s, available on Project Gutenberg.

I also needed to rewrite part of the story.

So here are the facts and then the story. Enjoy.

Pendragon

PS

I posted this before, only to have it deleted. I may not agree with the monitors, but I respect their wishes.

Facts on Jesse James murder

Jesse James gang had been decimated after the disastrous Northfield, Minnesota raid. After one last train robbery, even his brother Frank had quit and moved away. Jesse was left to pick up gang members wherever he could.

Charley Ford was a member of the gang and talked Jesse into taking in his younger brother Bob.

Robert Woodson "Wood" Hite, Jesse’s cousin, was shot to death thus: In January 1882, two James Gang members -- Wood Hite and Dick Liddel, on the run from the law, took refuge in the home of Martha Bolton, Bob Ford's widowed sister.

One day at breakfast, Hite and Liddel began to argue while the Fords sat by watching. The dispute soon accelerated with the feuding pair drawing their guns. The sound of four rapid shots from Hite's gun soon echoed through the room, one of which struck Liddel in the leg.

Falling to the floor, Dick returned the fire, hitting Hite in the arm. In the meantime, Bob Ford drew his own gun and, being Liddel's close friend, fired one shot, hitting Hite in the head. Collapsing to the floor, Wood Hite died just a few minutes later.

Ford then wrapped the corpse in a blanket, carried it outside and placing it on a mule, took it into the woods, where he buried Hite in a shallow, unmarked grave.

Great trouble was gone to in order to hide this from Jesse James, who undoubtedly would have taken revenge. Ford also seemingly betrayed gang member Dick Liddel, who often hid with other gang members at the same house of Martha Bolton.

In actuality, Ford was arrested along with Liddel, who gave himself up. Liddel made a deal with the governor for his freedom, and gave a written confession. Eventually Ford did stand trial for Hite's murder and was found guilty, though he was later pardoned. Bob Ford had his own agenda.

Finally, Jesse was down to two members, the Ford brothers. The Ford Brothers had been asked to move in with Jesse and his family at their house at 1318 Lafayette, in St. Joseph, Missouri. James was passing under the name of Thomas Howard. Jesse was always gentle with his children, and never let them know he was an outlaw.

But Bob Ford was in secret negotiations with the Governor to bring in the famous outlaw. On April 3, 1882, after eating breakfast, the Fords and James prepared for departure for another robbery, going in and out of the house to ready the horses. It was an unusually hot day, so James removed his coat, and then incredibly declared that he should remove his firearms as well, lest he look suspicious.

James seemed to notice a dusty picture on the wall and stood on a chair to clean it. Bob Ford took advantage of the opportunity and shot James in the back of the head.

Some say that James, who seemed to have a sixth sense and know things he couldn’t have pre-known, was worn out by his on-going bout with dementia. Thus he removed his guns and in essence, committed suicide via Bob Ford, expecting to be killed.

The Fords were originally charged with first degree murder, and sentenced to hang. Then Governor Thomas T. Crittenden quickly pardoned the brothers, setting off rumors that he conspired with the Ford Brothers to kill James, never intending to bring him in. Despite the deal that was made with Governor Crittenden, the Ford brothers did not receive the money they were originally promised, only a partial reward. This can be construed that Crittenden wished to distance himself from rumors that a public servant conspired to kill a private citizen. Wishing to be hailed as a hero, Bob found himself known as “the dirty little coward who shot Mr. Howard.”

Bob sold pictures of himself posing with the gun. Charley Ford committed suicide on May 6, 1884 in Richmond, Missouri. He had tuberculosis, and was by now a morphine addict. His nerves had never gotten over the two murders he witnessed his brother commit.

The play Bob Ford wrote starred himself as himself. He was very careful to omit the fact that he shot Jesse James in the back. Whoever else it starred is lost in the mists of time. It was performed to booing audiences, and never a success, so Bob Ford returned to the west to Creede, Colorado, set up as a dancehall owner. The hall burned down with a good part of the town before it opened. Bob open a tent salon as he waited to rebuild.

It was there that he was shot down on June 8, 1892 by Edward O’Kelly.
Oddly enough, Kelly did spend prison time for the murder of Bob Ford, but was later pardoned due to health reasons.

Note: The propellant in blank cartridges does indeed throw powder and paper, to give the resemblance of a shot being fired.

Mr. Howard’s Reckoning

The three men occupying the suite in a nice Manhattan hotel were having a ferocious argument.

“By God, Charley, you and old Useless there need to pick up your acting! We have a full house tonight, and I’ve even arranged for a photographer to record the play. Are you deaf or something, Useless? I’m talking to you!”

Eustis Latimer turned around. “Well if I am, Bob Ford, it’s small thanks to you, popping that damned gun in my ear every night for the past three months! Come over here, you and Charley and have a look.”

Bob and his brother crossed the room to where Eustis stood and looked where he pointed behind his right ear. There were little pits and holes, some fresh and some healed or partially healed. Charley Ford nervously ran his fingers behind his own right ear. The pits there were all healed, but they were the reason he had talked his brother Bob into changing the play a bit and hiring Eustis. He had been deathly afraid that one night Bob might decide on total realism and use a real bullet.

“God, Useless, you got ear mites or what?” Bob asked

“No, it’s those dammed blank cartridges you use. They spit gunpowder and little pieces of paper or something. Depends on how close you stand as to how deep they go. Can’t you aim a little to the right or something?”

“Look guys, the name of the play is How I Killed Jesse James, by Bob Ford. We get enough catcalls and jeers as it is. The play has to be more realistic to keep the houses full. It pays your wages you know.

“OK, Useless, I’ll give you a two dollar a play raise for danger pay and ear damage. You got something to say, Charley?”

Charley Ford shook a bit from his nerves. “You shouldn’t have done it, Bob. And this play just does the deed over and over again. People are calling you ‘a dirty little coward’”

“Look, Charley, everybody has a day of reckoning. He’d have killed us with no more conscious that if he were shooting rats in the yard. That day was Mr. Howard’s Day of Reckoning. No reason why we shouldn’t make money off of it.” Bob snorted.

“Dirty little coward.” The voice seemed to be in the room.

“Blast it, Useless! Now don’t you start!” Bob growled.

Eustis Latimer shook his head. “Ain’t said a word. Didn’t hear nothing either. What’s the matter with you, Bob?”

“Never mind. It’s five hours until curtain. I think I’ll find me a little female company. You two do what you want but you better be able and ready to act your best at 7:00.”

Bob left and Charley stared at Eustis. “I’m going to the bar. You coming?”

Charley had been spending most of his money on quack medicine and alcohol. His nerves seemed to get worse every day. He was suffering terribly from tuberculosis. He had placed a loaded, cocked pistol to his chest three times now, but failed to have the courage to pull the trigger.

“Naw.” Eustis replied. “I’m bushed. I’m gonna catch up on some sleep.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The play was nearing its dramatic climax. Eustis Latimer, dressed as Jesse James, stood with a newspaper in the door that lead ostentatiously into another room.

“Hello, what’s this? The arrest and confession of Dick Liddil! Says he was taken at your sister’s place. What about that, Charley?”

Charley Ford’s voice came from off-stage: “I ain’t been at my sister’s for the last year, remember. How would I know about it?”

“It was about the time you were out there, Shrimp. What you got to say, hey?”

Bob Ford’s voice was a bit indignant: “I must not have been home. You know how it is Jesse. I’m the youngest, like you. They don’t tell us everything. In fact, most of the time they don’t tell us anything!”

Bob Ford came brushing by Eustis, and came and sat at a table near the front of the stage. He bit his fingernails. In a few minutes, Charley joined him, running nervous fingers through his hair.

He said in a loud stage whisper: “He knows, Bob. Now he’s gonna kill us both!”

Bob stage whispered back: “All I need is just one chance, but he never takes those guns off.”

Eustis appeared in the door. “Aw, it's all right, I guess, Bob. You fellows about ready to go pull that little job?”

Charley Ford jumped up and headed for a door stage left. “I can be ready in about 10 minutes.” Bob merely nodded, not moving.

Eustis walked over to a window stage right and appeared to be studying something outside.

Off-stage a little girl’s voice could be heard singing little rhymes. Eustis turned and gave Bob a hard look.

“Guess I better take off these guns. Some neighbor might look in the window and get suspicious.” He laid his gun belt on a couch. He looked at a picture on the wall, stage back.

“Now don’t that picture look awful dusty.”

He picked up a duster and walked past Bob, looking at him the whole time. Charley reappeared in the door, his hand on his gun. Eustis moved a chair to stand on, and turned his back. Bob moved instantly, getting into position for the shot.

“Dirty little coward!”

Bob thought the voice came from on stage, but what shook him worse was he thought he recognized the voice: a man dead almost two years.

He raised his gun and the figure on the chair whirled, a pistol aimed right in Bob’s forehead.

“Dirty little coward! Never shoot a man unless you can do it in the back, just like me and Wood Hite!”

Bob shook. What was Eustis playing at? And how did he learn about Wood Hite?

Just then the photographer set off his flash powder. Charley Ford pulled his gun. Unlike Bob’s, Charley’s gun held real bullets. He aimed for the figure on the chair. The figure’s pistol moved to cover him and fired twice. Charley dropped with a thump to the stage.

“I knew I’d have to kill you sooner or later, you sniveling little bastard.

You know, Bob, you were right. Everyone has a day of reckoning. It’s when his sins finally catch up to him, and someone takes revenge. Tonight is Mr. Howard’s day of reckoning.

You killed Wood Hite and me, Jesse James, shooting us in the back. Well, now it’s your turn only you get it up front.”

The female who was playing the part of Zee, Jesse’s wife had rushed out of a doorway screaming at the first shot. She shot both hands to her face and screamed again seeing the body of Charley Ford.

Bob snaked a hand out for Charley’s pistol. A bullet blew it out of his reach. He glanced up into the figure’s face just as two bullets tore through his brain.

Suddenly the figure seemed to whirl again and Eustis Latimer’s unmistakable voice growled. “You gonna fire that dammed gun, Bob? I can’t stand here all night.”

Then as he viewed the carnage he exploded. “What in God’s name has happed here? Bob? Charley?”

A mob swarmed the stage, seizing a confused Eustis Latimer and attending to the actress who was still sobbing. A couple guys checked on Bob and Charley Ford.

“Dead as a doornail. Somebody check that bearded guy for a gun, he’s bound to have one.”

But Eustis Latimer did not have a gun or a weapon of any sort concealed upon himself. The stage was searched diligently by command of the Police Chief, but the only guns were Bob and Charley Ford’s. Bob Ford’s gun held only blanks, while Charley’s hadn’t been fired at all. The Chief looked at Eustis.

“I don’t know how you did it, son, but we got a whole audience here that will swear you did do it. Best come quietly now.”

Eustis sat in his cell trying to wrap his muddled mind around what had happened. All he knew was he was dusting the picture. He never heard a single shot fired. And they were saying he somehow did it, that the whole audience witnessed the murders.

The next day the Chief was on the phone to the Mayor. “No, I don’t think we need to worry about vigilante justice. Most folks think the brothers got what they deserved. And Latimer is a model prisoner. I don’t think he’s figured it out himself yet. And darned if I know either.”

Just then an excited bunch burst into the office. Foremost was the photographer from the newspaper. “You got to see this, Chief! Latimer is innocent. But you won’t believe who’s guilty.”

The Chief stared at the photograph. There were all the actors in place, with Eustis Latimer on the chair dusting away as Bob Ford held a pistol pointed at him. But a shadowy figure stood there also with a gun pointed toward the Ford brothers. The face stood out eerily in the flash from the camera. There was no mistaking the face of Jesse James… ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?8475-Mr-Howard-s-Day-of-Reckoning Locked Up Poem https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7298-Locked-Up-Poem Sun, 25 Jan 2009 14:29:35 GMT As this poem was locked on the thread by the moderators, I place it here, as I am told I can, for comments. This continues my "Presidential Bash" clerihews:

Our new President Barack Obama,
Took Oath of Office and screwed up the formula,
So to be certain that people wouldn't complain--
He screwed up his courage and took it again!

Pendragon

Praying this doesn't offend anyone... ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7298-Locked-Up-Poem Form Poetry Competition https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7156-Form-Poetry-Competition Sun, 11 Jan 2009 12:55:52 GMT Visit thread http://www.online-literature.com/for...&postcount=524
Duplicated below:

I'm going to assign a sestina, which may be a harder form, but I want you to think about it. I won't make it due until Feb. 14th to give plenty of time: Here are your instructions and one of my own for a sample. Play with the form to your hearts desire and read a few famous ones before you write. Good writing to all!

The sestina is a complex form that achieves its often spectacular effects through intricate repetition. The thirty-nine-line form is attributed to Arnaut Daniel, the Provencal troubadour of the twelfth century. The name "troubadour" likely comes from trobar, which means "to invent or compose verse." The troubadours sang their verses accompanied by music and were quite competitive, each trying to top the next in wit, as well as complexity and difficulty of style.

Courtly love often was the theme of the troubadours, and this emphasis continued as the sestina migrated to Italy, where Dante and Petrarch practiced the form with great reverence for Daniel, who, as Petrarch said, was "the first among all others, great master of love."

The sestina follows a strict pattern of the repetition of the initial six end-words of the first stanza through the remaining five six-line stanzas, culminating in a three-line envoi. The lines may be of any length, though in its initial incarnation, the sestina followed a syllabic restriction. The form is as follows, where each numeral indicates the stanza position and the letters represent end-words:

1. ABCDEF
2. FAEBDC
3. CFDABE
4. ECBFAD
5. DEACFB
6. BDFECA
7. (envoi) ECA or ACE

The envoi, sometimes known as the tornada, must also include the remaining three end-words, BDF, in the course of the three lines so that all six recurring words appear in the final three lines. The words usually occur at the middle and end of the lines. In place of a rhyme scheme, the sestina relies on end-word repetition to effect a sort of rhyme.

COLORS

Red is the color of the bubbling blood
that flows in scarlet streams from the slashed skin
of my right forearm. Watching it, I laugh.
It gives me a wonderful sense of release
from the pressures of a weary, tormented mind.
Sylvia Plath would recognized the feeling…

Blue is the color of my mood; the color of my feelings—
feelings too often painted in letters of blood;
the scattered ravings of an oppressed mind
encapsulated in a thin veneer of skin;
a caged animal seeking blessed release.
The imagery alone is enough to make one laugh.

Raven-black is the color of the hopeless laugh;
humor that never reaches the eyes, nor expresses the feelings
of the soul; just a pressure-valve, a release
to prevent total madness. The thin trickle of blood
is never a life-threat; the blade barely breaks the skin.
Any therapeutic aid exists solely in the mind.

Grey, it is said, is the color of the mind;
a twisted mess that resembles worms! What a laugh!
We lavish so much time and attention on our skin
and bones to feed worms! Isn’t THAT a creepy feeling!
One red worm crawls down my arm, a worm of blood,
while the worms that will devour my flesh seek release!

Yellow is the color of Light, of release;
the point of enlightenment that takes place in the mind.
The light engulfs my body, my bones, my blood.
Now, there is genuine mirth in the laugh,
an uplifting of the spirit and the feelings.
Energy pulsates all through this prison of skin.

Pale-white is the color of the skin
in which I live. The spirit struggles for release;
an emotional storm explodes in my feelings,
and a tiny voice (my own) whispers in my mind
things that I find so ridiculous that I laugh.
With a small cloth, I easily stop the flow of blood.

Having stopped the blood, I know a new scar will form on my skin.
But I don’t mind. I never have. I laugh.
If you have never experienced the feelings, you wouldn’t understand the release.

Dale Harris

Please read the instructions carefully and if it still isn't clear how to do the poem, google Sestina, please. I'm hoping for a better turnout than usual for this contest.

Pen ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7156-Form-Poetry-Competition Merry Christmas https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7039-Merry-Christmas Sat, 27 Dec 2008 21:46:44 GMT Belatedly wishing all a Merry Christmas. For me, the holiday was a bit of a mess, but I won't bore you with all the bad stuff. Just hope that all of my friends, my on-line nieces and nephews had a wonderful time. Always enjoy the time you spend with friends and family, you never know exactly when one will be missing the next go-round. God bless you every one.

Pen ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?7039-Merry-Christmas Wild Times at the Shop https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6912-Wild-Times-at-the-Shop Thu, 04 Dec 2008 19:36:46 GMT Wild times hit the old shop yesterday evening. The company cut-up was doing his usual routine of harassing a fellow worker. He delightfully refers to... Wild times hit the old shop yesterday evening. The company cut-up was doing his usual routine of harassing a fellow worker. He delightfully refers to himself as the company smart***. His girlfriend says that is part of his charm.

Bear in mind that this was all being done as a joke.

The co-worker had sold him a 16 gig flash drive, which actually shows as 14.9, which is perfectly normal. But the cut-up told Mr. Touchy that as it wasn’t exactly a 16 gig drive, the co-worker owed him $2.161/2. Whoa! He might as well have lit a fuse under him. Nasty words were exchanged, but the cut-up was still only joking.

Wham! Mr. Touchy first said that the cut-up owed him $1.50. So the cut-up very casually tosses him a dollar, which Mr. Touchy allowed to fall to the floor. Then Mr. Touchy threw a dollar at the cut-up and exploded in a furious rage, calling names and telling him that he had gone too far. Mr. Touchy picked up both dollars, drew back to throw them again, stuck them in his pocket, slapped his head on his head, and left in what could nicely be called “a bad mood.”

We haven’t seen him since, but he came back after we all had left for the night and got part of his stuff.

I’m standing there the whole time, and knew this was all in good fun, so it shocked the heck out of me. The lady who works here kept her head down just staring at the computer she was working on.

And speaking of the lady, the touchy guy walked into the bathroom on her yesterday. That was a quick trip! But as Mr. Touchy usually only takes about 11 seconds anyway, not by much, as I just had to tell him. Maybe I ignited the smoldering flame, who knows…

And me, boy did I pull a boner. Yesterday I spent almost 31/2 hours looking for a driver for the computer I was working on, only to have the boss discover that I had something hooked up wrong and had the driver the whole bloody time. Wow!

The boss just came in and said someone was parked in “the Presidential parking spot.” We park out back when the weather is bad to avoid the idiots on the strip mall parking lot. I’ve almost been hit many times just crossing to my truck. The problem is, the light out back doesn’t work any more, and I had to come back for my flashlight the other night just to see to unlock my truck.

Now the cut-up and the boss are having a mock argument over a pair of missing pliers. We do this all the time, but Mr. Touchy just doesn’t seem to be able to take it. He can dish it out though. Mr. Touchy takes this superior attitude with everyone and it makes him hard to get along with.

To be perfectly honest, when I started working here, I didn’t know how to take the smart***’s jokes. But I settled in by a few months, so Mr. Touchy should have mellowed out as he’s been here much longer. Some people are so tightly wound that they should not be allowed in public without a keeper.

Well, take care for now… I know I will…

PS: Mr. Touchy can always read my blog, as he knows I keep one! :D ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6912-Wild-Times-at-the-Shop Little Shop of....Kids? https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6829-Little-Shop-of-Kids Wed, 19 Nov 2008 22:47:24 GMT I work with a gang here that are very good friends. I will be 48 on Monday, the boss is 45, the other two guys are in their 30’s and 40’s. The lady... I work with a gang here that are very good friends. I will be 48 on Monday, the boss is 45, the other two guys are in their 30’s and 40’s. The lady is 65. Nice bunch of adults, correct? Wrong!:lol:

The way we pick on each other and throw anything from paper to fountain pens, (one guy made a crossbow that fires bamboo skewers!) is way out and wild. Shadow boxing, putting snow down each other’s backs; a million and one pranks in a day.:idea:

And the sweet Lord help the one of us who makes a critical error. Like for example, when I backed my truck into the drainpipe out back of the store. :sick::lol: Or when a co-worker and his girl were catching a kiss in his car during a smoke break. :D:lol::blush: Or when another wears that nice leather coat that looks like it was made for a woman. :D:lol: Or when the boss totally blows a simple computer repair. :crash::lol: Or when the lady got called a “Jezebel” by some woman who thought she was too friendly with a customer. :rolleyes::lol:

Nobody ever gets to really live things down for long. We pick constantly, but all in good fun. An uninitiated person would swear this was a kindergarten however! :p

We of course do not do these things in front of customers. But sometimes the customer gets a good one on us. Today while typing up an order I made so many errors, I finally told him that I was evidently the worst typist in the world. He said “Well, they didn’t have computers when you were in school. Did you take typing?” :blush:

Yeah. I cheated my way to an “A” in the class! Double-red face for me.:blush::blush:

Makes the day go by easier when things are slow. :thumbs_up

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have here a paperwad with my co-worker’s name on it! :D ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6829-Little-Shop-of-Kids More Computer Shop Woes https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6789-More-Computer-Shop-Woes Sat, 15 Nov 2008 17:47:40 GMT Yesterday was billing day for the ISP services. The lady who usually does this had to have major surgery, so two of us were “trained” to do the... Yesterday was billing day for the ISP services. The lady who usually does this had to have major surgery, so two of us were “trained” to do the billing. I was one of the unlucky pair.

It’s funny, years ago this used to be my job, and I knew exactly how to do everything. I had to leave for some years because of my health, and now everything has changed. I still went to work will a will, trying to figure out what in heaven’s name I was doing.

I e-mailed out the bills, and then upon rechecking found I had made about umpteen errors. Some who were billed actually owed nothing being paid ahead. I either deleted their e-mail before they could read it, or in the case of them not being on our email, I called them. Tragedy adverted.

Some didn’t owe quite the full bill, having written checks for over their amount the last time. More deleting from the e-mail server. Again, errors caught and trapped like a rat before they escaped.

Then comes the credit-card customers. I know zip about doing this and must wait until the boss is back in the office. So they will be a tad late, as he is off today.

Then comes my problems with the last computer I am repairing. Suddenly, I am up against something that I either don’t remember them teaching me in collage, or that I just never ran into before. There is a guy here who might know, but he doesn’t like to teach others too well. My nerves begin to fray somewhat.

A phone customer calls at least ten times and finally I must loose patience. I think I may have miffed him a bit, but he will soon soothe his ruffled feathers, because he’ll have another problem and call again. Righto. That was him just calling. He’s gruff but polite and I can solve his problem quickly.

Boredom looms like a foggy elephant, as we are slow for the day. Mr. Porno calls. He’s having a problem with Microsoft Office. Hey, I can solve that one with no problem.

My co-worker decides to hand me the instructions for fixing my problem, printed out so that I can follow step by step. Hey, I love my co-worker! I love everybody! The rain no longer is depressing. OK, here go nothing! ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6789-More-Computer-Shop-Woes Computer Shop Woes https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6776-Computer-Shop-Woes Thu, 13 Nov 2008 15:38:32 GMT Working here at the computer store is an interesting hobby, and for a disabled man like myself, a ray of sunshine in a dark world. I can work here... Working here at the computer store is an interesting hobby, and for a disabled man like myself, a ray of sunshine in a dark world. I can work here and they fully understand my limitations, and then work with me as I endeavor to climb that mountain that all depressed people know so very well. :)

I have my moments when I wonder exactly what is going on with the minds of our customers. We do get our share of the odd and outré. :lol:

Take, for example, our first customer this morning. He brings in a computer that has trouble even coming on. There are nicotine crusts on the case, not just yellow stain, mind you, but actual amber colored deposits as if he had spit tobacco juice on it. Even the cables inside are stain with the stuff. Perhaps this is why he keeps burning up power supplies, an overdose of smoke. I dare not mention his smoking habits; I just smile and install the new power supply. :rolleyes:

Then there are the people who want data transferred when a computer must be totally wiped and reloaded. We charge by a flat rate according to how many gigabytes need to be saved to our backups and replaced. Don’t they realize that we can see what they want transferred, especially when they are not in a folder like “my pictures’ and we must hunt for them? :eek2:

One guy asks for his pictures to be saved and proceeds to have 5.5 gigs of pure porn. I have no desire to see such sickening stuff, and I wish I could say, “Oh, sorry, it was accidentally deleted.” :idea: But I must sigh, and let it go.

Another asks for “family pictures” to be saved, so I am thinking he wants his kid’s pictures, family occasions, etc. When I track down one of the folders he mentioned, there are porno scenes on the cover of the folder. Wow! I now know more about his wife than I needed to know. :blush::blush::blush:

Yesterday, a young lady kept me on the phone for fifteen minutes, loudly insisting that I get her Internet service back up and running. I checked everything, and there should have been no problem. Suddenly she exclaims, “Silly me, my computer isn’t plugged in all the way. I don’t have enough power. Yep! That’s it! Thank you!” :p

Can’t people check their stuff before calling? Can’t they save their own embarrassing pictures before the computer comes to the shop? :blush:

Another says her computer is “slow”. I check it out. I actually pull a soda bottle cap out of the huge dust bunny I find clogging the fans. A computer has to breathe to work properly. Another has cereal inside her computer clogged in the dust of ages. History is passing before my eyes. A good Sherlock Holmes would now know that she has a black dog, and could guess with fair odds at the breed of the animal. :nod:

We had a customer raising the very devil with my boss over a business computer. He brings it to the shop where my boss kindly hits the reset button. The computer works fine. This has been one of the steps my boss went over with the customer on the phone. Sigh. :(

We continue to have calls demanding that we do something that another business is responsible for doing. We are an ISP, but we are not responsible for other ISP services problems. This is something that for some reason people have a hard time grasping. :crash:

You either love my type of job or leave it, and I happened to love it! ]]> Pendragon https://www.online-literature.com/forums/entry.php?6776-Computer-Shop-Woes