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Houston ißaily
SATURDAY,
JANUARY 6, 2007
Greetings
from mile
marker 26
The writing of this col
umn is once again in
humid, sunny, warm
southern Florida - 26 miles
from mile marker 0, Key
West.
The wildlife of this area is
a sight to behold - pelicans,
frigate birds, ospreys and
several variety of gulls, circle
overhead - while heron, ibis
and egrets wander up and
down the canal wall look-
ing for a
handout.
One
great blue
heron
(who I
affection
ately call
Hank
Heron)
actually
comes
close
Jane Winston
The Left Rail
enough while staring deep
into my eyes that I think it
would actually eat out of my
hand if I were interested!
I have finally learned how
to distinguish between her
ons and egrets - herons have
light-color/yellow legs and
egrets dark legs.
I am eager to get home
and figure out if I have been
seeing egrets or herons on
the ponds in Eagle Springs.
The plant life is breath
taking - Christmas palms,
cabbage palms, royal palms,
Norfolk Island pines, but
tonwood bushes, oleander,
hibiscus, gardenias, aspara
gus fern, and other bloom
ing bushes and plants I can’t
begin to identify are in great
abundance in this tropical
climate.
Humidity ensconces me
-my hair is a wreck, my
bicycle (the one I attached
to the back of my car and
brought with me) has begun
to rust, and all of my joints
let me know they aren’t
accustomed to such humid
ity.
41 definitions for the word
key on dictionary.com; I
went there in search of an
understanding of the word
Key as in Cudjoe Key, Pine
Key, Summerland Key...all
communities on the water
prior to arrival in Key West.
And key led me to cay,
which is used seemingly
interchangeably for key, and
discovered that Keys/cays
are low islands composed
primarily of coral.
As a result, sand beaches
are not in abundance in this
particular area, so I do my
walking on asphalt roads
and my swimming in a pool.
And if I gave myself at F+
in looks at the beginning of
the jaunt, it is now reduced
to an F-, albeit a very tan
F-, as the food here is to die
for!
The fried oysters top my
list of yummies; lobster tails
come in a close second; grou
per sandwiches are awesome
most places and then there
is Key Lime Pie made right
in Key West at the Key West
Pie Factory.
I have also discovered a
slice of key lime pie on a
stick covered with chocolate,
which has to be the best
thing I have ever eaten in
my entire life!!!
Our table won the New
Year’s Eve table-decorating
contest.
We called it Winter
Wonderland and everything
was white and silver; all 11
of us dressed in white.
To all of my military wife
friends, the entire exercise
reminded me so much of our
days in the Air Force when
we were seemingly tasked
with decorating everything
and anything that was
standing still.
What fun those days
were!
Till next week
“I know I am getting bet
ter at golf because I am
hitting fewer spectators.”
Gerald Ford
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Journal Nancy Hawk
Angela Veal, resident of Warner Robins has been playing about five years. A skilled
player, she has 225 games spread out before her.
Classic game proves timeless
fun for local residents
By Nancy Hawk
Journal Staff Writer
B-I-N-G-O! The luck
is flying and the players
1 are electrified by the word
- even when they’re not
the winners. It is a spiri
tual punch that fires them
up to purchase another set
of cards, ready the dabber
and get ready for the next
game.
Bingo Director Sharon
Gant and volunteer work
er Carolyn Hagan are the
main members who over
see Bingo operations for
VFW Post 6605. and the
game keeps them busy.
The day begins around
12:30 p.m. which is not
too much of a problem
unless you have to walk
the floor all those hours,
smile politely and keep on
trucking. Quitting time is
at 4:30 p.m.
When the Bingo session
begins for the ladies, the
hall is set, the Bingo video
screens are turned on and
the inventory and paper
work begin. It is a lot of
work physically and with
plenty of paperwork.
Unlike many states,
Georgia adds sales tax to
each item you buy at the
Bingo room. At seven per
cent, it isn’t much, but it
still is an accounting point
that has to be taken seri
ously.
Making sure that this is
done correctly is a chal
lenge. After all, this small
business is only in opera
tion once a week.
The Bingo session at the
post has 10 games, each
named for the winning pat
tern, such as “kite,” “hat
pin,” or “letter X.”
If only 39 players are
Lifestyle
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Journal Nancy Hawk
Mary Grover, Warner Robins resident of 26 years, loves
her Bingo.
playing the final Bingo is
worth SSOO but with 50 or
more players play, the pot
jumps to SI,OOO.
1 pack of cards is sls, but
through the game you get
to buy more cards.
Angel Veal is a woman
of great talents. She plays
25 games at once, which
equals approximately 225
possible placements at one
time. That is skill.
Each of the workers and
the directors have gone
through the GBI process
and been bonded to handle
the money. Anyone who
works at the Bingo must be
bonded.
Mary Grover loves her
Bingo.
How long has Mary been
playing Bingo?
She stops puzzles and
replies “26 years.” A resi
dent of Warner Robins,
Grover has enjoyed coming
to the post to play bingo.
She hopes more people will
join in with these people.
It would make for a bigger
end cash prize.”
This VFW Post has long
been Bingo sponsors, in
efforts to support the many
charitable operations they
assist throughout the com
munity of Warner Robbins.
The ladies have a posi
tive outlook despite all the
rules and regulations hand
ed down by the state.
The efforts of the aux
iliary assist the Veterans
Administration and the
work they do in Dublin.
“Without the Bingo mon
ies the Auxiliary unit cer
tainly would not have been
able to purchase four Chemo
Chairs for the Veterans at
Dublin,” Carolyn Hagan
State Hospital and VA
Hospital Chairperson said.
“Often an ailing veteran
can be made more comfort
able by this simple chair.
Small toiletries and a nice
washing cloth are so appre
ciated, but the veterans
may not have money for
these things.” Hagan
See BINGO, page 4C
A love letter and
a special goodbye
His handprints are
all over my heart.
He held it for years
in an uneasy, complicated
grasp that I could never
escape. Though I tried. Lord
knows I tried mightily.
“You’re going to marry
Ronnie Calhoun one day,”
predicted friends and fam
ily, both mine and his, for
years.
“No, I’m not,” I said firm
ly sometimes angrily for no
two more stubborn people
ever tried to form a union.
It was constant debate, dis
agreement and sometimes
argument. He’d drive me
crazy during dinner con
versation then shake his
gorgeous head, those beau
tiful teeth as white as fresh
bleached cotton flashing
brilliantly, and laugh at
my aggravation. He always
laughed. And that made me
madder.
“You drive me up the
wall,” I’d storm out at him.
A smirk would slide across
his face. “Now, is that the
Christian way to be?”
But no man has ever
been a more intricate part
of my life and now I see
that he wormed his way
through my heart down to
the soul of my being. We
were childhood combatants,
he the torment of visits to
my grandmother’s since
he lived nearby and came
to play with my cousins
and me. Mischief sprang
constantly from his dark
brown eyes and streaked
across his freckles. I was
his chief victim. When I
was 8, he blacked my eye
with a baseball bat, suppos
edly accidentally, during a
yard. game.
Beginning at 9 and con
tinuing until I was 12, he
After-Christmas blues
I always used to love it
when the kids had a
vacation from school.
We’d make crafts and go
to the playground. We’d
take walks and ride bikes.
There was always some
thing to do.
Now, it seems like I don’t
have as much time for
those things so, of course,
that means they are bored.
When my siblings and I
were kids, we didn’t seem
to need our parents to show
us how to have fun. In
fact, we left the house in
the morning and didn’t see
them except for lunch and
dinner. Maybe that was
because every time we saw
our parents, they’d put us
to work. They were pretty
smart, weren’t they?
Now, there seems to be
a need for “quality time”
otherwise your kids will be
totally screwed up. That
quality time was definitely
absent in my childhood but
I turned out alright, didn’t
I? (Don’t answer that.)
Things are a lot differ
ent now. When I look at
all the toys kids get for
Christmas these days, I’m a
little jealous. I used to get
one or two toys and a turtle
neck sweater, a bathrobe,
school supplies and those
knitted socks that grandma
made every year for us. My
pair always got snagged on
a loose nail that stuck up
between the living room
and kitchen. So I had to try
to make do without a pair
of knitted socks until next
Christmas. I told grandma
just how much I was going
to miss those socks, while
praying that the loose nail
would never be fixed. Then
she started knitting mit
tens.
These days, however, the
kids get all these electronic
gizmos and baby dolls that
do everything but toss their
cookies. The latest fads
are advertised every two
SECTION
c
diligently sought to drown
me in the swimming hole
every summer. One Sunday
afternoon, to his absolute
delight, he almost succeed
ed, throwing back his head
and laughing uproariously.
No remorse. Ever.
I was
sure I
would
hate him
for the
rest of
my life.
Then
in the
su m -
mer of
my 15th
year
|p|l|iSßn:
Ronda Rich
Columnist
when he was 18, every
thing changed. He took
me home from church one
nigh, then there on the
front porch under the beam
of full August moon while
the pounding of my heart
drowned out the crickets’
serenade, Ronnie Calhoun
became the first boy to kiss
me. Long, sweet, gentle and
dizzying. So much so that
I have spent years chas
ing the magic of that kiss
and trying to duplicate that
moment. No girl could ask
for a sweeter first kiss.
I was sure I would love
him for the rest of my life.
That began three decades
where on and off, we chased
romance together. We’d
give in to the difficulty of
it each time but we could
never give up completely.
We always came back to try
again, even though some
times it was years between
attempts.
When the call came to
my New Orleans hotel
room, my world crumbled.
Pancreatic cancer, mama
See RICH, page 4C
minutes on the children’s
TV stations so that by the
time Christmas comes, they
are salivating over a pair
a moon shoes and if they
don’t receive a pair, the
world will stop turning.
So poor Santa leaves a
pair under the tree, all the
while knowing that the
child will
use them
a grand
total of
twice
and then
they will
be added
to the
constant
clutter
of an
already
over-
apt
Laura Snyder
Laura on
Life
stuffed house. The elec
tronic gizmos run out of
batteries and since, after
Christmas, everyone is
broke and can’t afford new
batteries, they are also rel
egated to the Useless Junk
pile in their closets.
The puzzles, Tinkertoys,
Lincoln logs and rag dolls
that used to be cherished
by the kids in my genera
tion are all but scoffed at
and put aside never to be
played with again.
We used to get a box of
Legos and use our imagina
tions to make just about
anything we wanted. Now,
Legos come in kits where
they tell you what to build
and just exactly how to
build it. The kids build it
once, put it on a shelf and
it stays there until little
brother knocks it down and
it smashes into a million
pieces. Since the instruc
tions for making that Star
Wars rocket ship or the
Hogwart’s School have been
thrown away, that Legos set
is now useless because they
don’t know how to make
anything else with it.
I needed to clean the
See LA URA , page 4C