Bill Lee

A few days ago, I saw a post on Facebook about a friend that had an encounter with a rooster during which the rooster had attacked him and caused an injury to his hand. When I saw the post, it reminded me of a time when I was growing up and about a rooster we had at the farm that would also attack you given the chance.

This short story is a remembrance about the rooster, my Uncle Homer and an encounter they had one afternoon. Hope you all enjoy.

Way back when I was a growing lad on the farm, my grandmother, Della Lee, otherwise known as Ma to all of us, made sure we had chickens at all times to insure a steady supply of eggs for our daily diets as well as for a ready source of meat for other meals such as fried chicken or chicken and dumplings. These chickens would be of various types such as game chickens, bantams or Leghorns. But her favorite type of chickens was Rhode Island Reds which were good layers and were not prone to much disease or illnesses.

Many times, we would get a batch of biddies in the late winter or early spring and care for these little chicks until they reached maturity and began laying eggs. Included with these new chicks would often be a baby rooster, maybe several that would also be cared for until reaching maturity. However, the fate that awaited these roosters was a trip to the frying pan or dumpling pot. But, as every chicken farmer knows, chickens need a rooster in the pen or chicken coop with the hens to have good egg production. So it was that sometimes one of these roosters lucked out and was allowed to live and become the “He Man” of the chicken coop. This story is about one of these lucky ones.

Now this particular rooster that lucked out and become the “Foghorn Leghorn” of the Lee family chicken coop was a large Rhode Island Red that I nicknamed Big Red. As he aged, he grew bigger and bigger and eventually became a huge rooster. Along with growing larger and larger, this rooster also became more and more aggressive when anyone would enter the chicken pen to gather the eggs, fill the troughs with chicken feed or laying mash, check the water stations or clean out the hen houses.

If you were not careful, upon entering the pen, Big Red would start to circle around behind you and when he caught you not paying attention, he would attack you, doing his best to inflict injury upon you with his more than ample spurs. Many times, I was chased around the pen by Big Red with him doing his dang best to flog me. Though he never actually did any injury to me, it was not for lack of him trying because he did.

But one day, Big Red made a serious mistake when trying to flog someone who entered the pen. On this day, my Uncle Home was with me during the time I was feeding the chickens and gathering the eggs. Aa matter of fact, he had the feed bucket in his hands and was doing the feeding while I was checking the water and getting ready to go inside the hen house to gather the eggs. We were standing several feet apart as each of us went about our individual tasks. 

All of a sudden, out of the corner of my eyes, I saw it going down. Bid Red and Uncle Homer were doing some rendition of a Texas Two-Step or a maybe a version of the Barn Yard Shuffle. Big Red was doing his best to flog Uncle Homer, coming at him high and hard. Uncle Homer was doing his best to stay out of harms way, all the while going around and around to keep from getting spurred. Suddenly, like George Forman in the famous bout with Joe Frazier when George knocked Joe out and Howard Cossell was screaming, “Down Goes Frazier! Down Goes Frazier!”, Uncle Homer swung the feed bucket in his hand at Big Red and caught him dead behind the head with a thunderous blow.

 “Down Goes Big Red! Down Goes Big Red!” Uncle Homer had knocked that rooster clean out! He fell flat on his face and I honestly thought he was grave-yard dead. But after a few moments, I saw a little movement, then Bid Red began to wiggle about and finally, he wobbled up to his feet. He was staggering around the chicken pen like Otis Campbell on a two-week drunk on the Andy Griffith Show. He slowly made his way to the very back of the pen, well out of reach of Uncle Homer and his feed bucket.

Anyway, after this day, if I was in the pen by myself, Big Red would still try to get me, though I must admit with not nearly as much malice in his heart as before getting cold cocked by Uncle Homer. If I happened to have a feed bucket in my hand, he tended to leave me alone. But, if Uncle Homer was with me, Big Red was nowhere near to either of us. He stayed far out of reach and let us go about our business without any threats or attempts to flog us.

That little light tap on the head by Uncle Homer made a lasting impression on Big Red. I guess you could say even if they are not really smart, chickens can be taught. Or at least the one I called Big Red learned a lesson from Uncle Homer that he never forgot.

Beginning on the very first Christmas with the birth of Christ more than 2,000 years ago, the season has always been a time of many events being celebrated for the first time. According to biblical accounts of the birth of Christ, the wise men, all of the heavenly hosts, angels, and of course, the family of Jesus celebrated the blessed event of the first appearance of the holy child of God. And so, the celebration of firsts continues today in many ways during the Christmas season.

One of these continues to be the celebrations of families on the first Christmas after a new baby comes into a family through birth or adoption. We recognize the new additions to families by dressing the babies in bright and festive clothing with pictures of Santa Claus, reindeer, Christmas trees or perhaps other symbols of the Christmas season. Then, to make sure we capture these precious events for future memories, we take countless pictures of the new addition and share these far and wide through every available outlet including modern methods of sharing such as Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram and other forms of social media. We place the pictures on family Christmas cards and send them out with family, friends and loved ones.

We continue the celebration by having a special ornament made with the new baby’s name on it along with the inscription First Christmas and a date to indicate the year. These new ornaments become a part of the family history and are included each and every year as a part of the tree decorations for many years to come.

Some family friends recently experienced one of these new additions to their family by adopting another child. They posted pictures of the new baby for all to see while being held by the new parents, siblings and of course, the grandparents. The smiles on all the faces told the whole world how this new addition to the family would be celebrated during this Christmas season. As an adoptive parent myself, I can feel their joy as they celebrate the newest family member.

Along with celebration of new family additions by birth or adoption is another one that is just as important and is in fact, the manner by which families continue to prosper and expand. This celebration of a first Christmas is when one of the family members gets married during a year and the new spouse becomes a part of the family to which he or she has been joined through matrimony. During the first Christmas after a person enters a family through marriage, they begin the process of understanding how their new family celebrates the Christmas season. They begin to experience the traditions of their new families and share with the new families the traditions of how their birth families celebrate the season.

Gradually over the years, as these marriages produce children of their own, they develop their own traditions of celebrating Christmas. These may incorporate elements from both the families from which the partners come, or they may begin entirely new traditions that are developed based on their own interests, likes, or life circumstances. Either way, these family units begin their own celebrations of firsts during the Christmas season.

In my family, one of our traditions is decorating the house, tree, and outside of my home on the day after Thanksgiving each year. I do not remember exactly how long we have been doing this traditional day of decorating, but it has been going on since our oldest child was a baby. This tradition now has many of the older grandchildren joining in the process of helping to decorate the home and outside each year while the younger grandchildren watch the process in wide-eyed wonder and amazement in anticipation of Santa coming soon.

This day of decoration has evolved over the years to a much more intense activity with the addition each year of more and more stuff to be put out on display. At one time, we had over 150 Santa Claus figures and over 100 snowmen of various types that we put out each year. This is in addition to the other Christmas displays including a beautiful nativity scene that has a special place in our living room every year. Thankfully over the last couple of years, I have begun to downsize a little and have been giving some of the decorations to my children and their families for them to take to their homes and use for building their own traditions.

Another of the most wonderful and joyous firsts of any Christmas season is the opening of the gifts. Who can ever forget when they got that special gift under the tree or from Santa? I still remember vividly the morning I got my first BB gun at the age of 7 under the Christmas tree from Santa and going immediately out onto the back porch and shooting the gun towards the grape vine arbor that was located in our back yard. For me now, watching the grandchildren open gifts has long replaced the joy I felt when opening my own presents. I love to see the sparkle in their eyes, hear the excitement in their voices and see the joy in them as they show the gifts to those close by when opening the presents.

While these and many other firsts of the Christmas season are happy events, there are some other firsts that are not joyous at all. I include this only because life is indeed a journey along a road with both happiness and sadness. While the happy times are easy to write about, the sad times are much more difficult to share.

Among the most difficult of firsts during the Christmas season is that first Christmas when people we love dearly are no longer present with us. These absences of being there can be brought about by many different circumstances.

For example, people that we love dearly may be living away from the home area that prevents them from being able to come home for Christmas because of a job or perhaps, a loved one is in the military and stationed far away from home or overseas in another country. My heart goes out each and every year to those people who are deployed overseas and send their greetings home via short video chats on television to their loved ones.  The very worst of these has to be parents who are missing being with their children and spouses while deployed. But, because of the service of these many thousands of individuals, you and I get to enjoy the freedoms of living in our great nation while celebrating the Christmas season.

Just this past Sunday, I heard one of these stories about a young man serving his country and being away from home for the first time. In Sunday school, the father of the young man shared with us that his son had left home that very morning headed to his new assignment overseas to Europe and possibly the war zones in Afghanistan or Iraq.  As he shared this with the class, I could hear the sadness and concern in his voice as he stated this would be the first time that his sone would not be with the family at Christmas since he had been born. We said a prayer for him and spoke words of encouragement to the man but knowing that his heart was breaking because of this life event.

Without doubt, the saddest first of any Christmas is the one after the passing away of a loved one. While Christmas is a time for joy for most people, the first holiday season after the death of a spouse, parent, child, other family member, or close friend, can be one of many periods of sadness and sorrow. Our minds take us back to much happier times of celebration with these loved ones and cause our hearts to long for them to be present with us once again though we know this is not possible. With the passage of time and years, these painful moments become easier to bear though the memories of our loved ones remain with us forever.

But, even in these moments of sadness and sorrow, we can learn to celebrate because of the gift to the world on that first Christmas long ago. For as believers, we know the birth of Christ on that first Christmas provides a way for all of us to be together again someday. On that Holy Night of long ago, God made a way for all humanity to receive the ultimate gift of eternal life.

So, in closing, I hope all of you have many happy and glorious firsts during this Christmas season of 2019. I hope your first present is just what you wanted. I hope you get to see the joy and happiness in a child’s face as they open presents and proudly show them to you and others. I hope the first time being with your family after a long trip home is wonderful. I hope you get to hug your loved ones and hold them tightly as you embrace on that first time together. I hope you get to eat a delicious Christmas meal with family and friends. I hope you can regain some joy even if you lost a loved one during the previous year by recalling precious memories of them and knowing you will see them again someday.

Merry Christmas!  Hope all of your have a great Christmas season with many wonderful firsts.

Hope you all have a great Thursday.  Sharing a funny story this morning about living with someone who is directionally challenged. Hope you all enjoy this story from a few years back.

Bill, Where Am I?

So, the title to the story is exactly what I heard several years ago when I was awakened by a telephone call at about 1:00 in the morning from a dead sleep by my wife, Frances “Mike” Lee.  Not a “Hello” or “Bill, this is Mike.” Or even a “Bill, sorry to call and wake you up but I need some help.”  Nope none of these. Just the words coming out of the telephone, “Bill, where am I?”

Well, as my mind struggled to get the cobwebs out of it, I tried to get a handle on the question. The reason for my momentary confusion was because as far as I knew, Mike and her sister Cindy Mitchell were supposed to be in Hattiesburg, MS visiting with our daughter Anna. But given the question asked, my quick response was, “Well, I give up. I don’t know where you are?“

Now, to fully understand this, you have to know that Mike and her sister were both, shall we say, severely directionally challenged. As in Mike could get lost going to places we had been to several times before and not have a clue as to how to get there. She even got lost one time coming home from a family reunion that had been held at the same place for years and to which she had driven from home that morning, ending up driving about 20 miles out of her way because she made a wrong turn to the left when she should have turned right. And, Cindy is a just about as bad when in places with which she is not totally familiar.

Anyway, when I told her I had no idea where she was, the real story began to emerge. So what had happened was this.

While Mike and Cindy were in Hattiesburg visiting with Anna, the two of them decided to go down to Biloxi and spend a little time playing the slots in some of the casinos there. The distance from Hattiesburg to Biloxi is about 50 miles or so. To get there, one only has to take one road from there down to the coast and make one turn to get onto the main road in Biloxi, US Highway 98. As it turned out, they had made it to Biloxi with no problems, played the games for a few hours and were in the process of trying to find their way back to Hattiesburg. At the time of the call, they were on a road with not a clue as to which way to go, thus the telephone call to me.

After, I got the sleep out of my head and found out they were somewhere in Biloxi with not a clue as to which way they were going or what road they were on, I finally got Mike to just stop. I even had her hand the telephone to Cindy so I could talk to her without Mike having to try and listen to directions while also driving the car. As I was talking to Cindy, I asked her what road they were on. She did not know but I got her to start looking for road signs and eventually got them onto US 98. Once this was done, I got her to find out if they were heading east on 98 or west on 98. All the time, she is talking to Mike and helping her to get turned around, change lanes, make the right turns and so on. Of course, all this time, I am hearing them talk to one another and it was like listening to a 3 ring circus with all 3 rings going at the same time. It was a real comedy listening to Cindy trying to give directions to Mike and Mike hollering about missing the roads, missing turns, or being in the wrong lane.

Anyway, while this circus is going on, I am trying to find out from Cindy if they even remember the road number that they are supposed to take to get back to Hattiesburg. She thinks maybe she does but is not sure and does not know if the road they need to take is to the east or west from where they were on US 98.

About this time, my mind finally cleared up enough to start thinking a little bit. So, I then asked, “Cindy, are you all driving our vehicle?”  She said, “Yes, we are in your car.”  I then said, “Cindy, is the Tom-Tom electronic directional device up there on the windshield turned on?”  She said, “No.”  I said, “Cindy, reach up there and turn the damn thing on!”

She turned the Tom-Tom on and said, “Now what do I need to do?” I said, “Now that it is on, hit the little highlighted line that says Anna’s Apartment and y’all follow the damn directions on that until you get back to Hattiesburg!”  By now, she was laughing as was I.

I hung up the telephone, turned over and went back to sleep. I did not hear from them anymore so I guessed they were able to follow the directions on the Tom-Tom without further assistance. When they got back to Bonifay form the trip, we all laughed heartily at the adventure of the directionally challenged sisters.

Needless to say the fact that we had a Ton-Tom was of much help on several occasions over the next few years when Mike and Cindy would go off together.

Saw a couple of former students tonight at the world famous Holiday Restaurant and in talking to them, I recalled an incident from many years ago that happened at school one fine day.  As I relate this story, I will not use the names of the students involved to protect the guilty. However, if any of these “gentlemen” decide to name it and claim it that will be up to them. I may get to tell this one of these days at a class reunion now that they are all adults. Just another day in life at school as a principal.

The incident started when it came to my attention in some manner that a young man was seen by a faculty member in the possession of a cold bottle of what had been beer though at the time, there was no beer left in the bottle. So, therein began the case of the evaporating beer.

As I retell this tale, bear in mind that rule number 1 for principals is that children will lie when they are in trouble. Rule number 2 for administrators, like good detectives, is to always, always, always, speak to any and all witnesses by themselves when possible to prevent said witnesses from hearing what the other witnesses might be saying. When following rule number 2, it can get downright funny to interview various members of the guilty and watch them try to match up lies when they have not had the chance to get their stories straight.

To start the investigation, I had the young man who had possession of the empty beer bottle brought down to the office to begin the process of tracking down the source of the beer. I will call this young man Boy #4. After some intense questioning of Boy #4, he stated that he had received the beer from Boy #3, whom he identified. He told me when he got the bottle it only had a few suds left in the bottom of the bottle, he was scared he was going to get in trouble and just emptied the few suds left out on the ground.

I then sent for Boy #3 and had Boy #4 wait in another room out of the sight of Boy #3.

When Boy #3 arrived, we again engaged in a rather lengthy discussion of how he had come to be in possession of said beer. Finally, he revealed that he had received the beer from Boy #2, whom he reluctantly identified. But, he also claimed that when he had received the bottle from #2, it was about 2/3s empty. He also claimed that he had barely touched it to his lips and had not even taken a swallow before passing it on to #4, again because he was scared of getting caught.

I then sent for Boy #2 and had Boy #3 wait in another room out of the sight of Boy #4 and Boy #2 who was about to enter the office.

When Boy #2 arrived at the office, I engaged him in a pointed conversation about the beer, asking him where he had gotten it from and to whom had he passed it. After some time, he finally gave up the name of the person who had given him the beer and the name of the person to whom he had passed it which was in fact, Boy #3. However, once again, his story about the beer was a little suspect as he reported that he had not drank even one swallow of the beer after he got it from Boy #1.  He told me that he only sniffed the bottle, which according to him was a little more than half full when he received it from Boy #1 and before he passed it on to Boy #3.

When I had determined that I had about as much information as I was going to get from Boy #2, I moved him to another room away from #3 and #4 and sent for Boy #1.

When Boy #1 got to the office, I began to question him pretty good about the source of the beer. At this time, I had no idea how many boys were really involved as I had simply backtracked from the one who had it last. I did not know if there were others or if this was the end of the line. As I engaged Boy #1 in conversation about the beer, his first story to me was that somebody that he did not know had driven by on the street close to the gym in a car with Dokken Rocks written on the side of the car and had handed the beer out the window to him before he even knew what was happening and sped off leaving him holding said beer in his hands.

Upon hearing this tall tale, I was very suspicious this was not the truth. How many people just happen to ride by a school in an old car with Dokken Rocks written on the side, holler at some kid that they don’t know standing by the road, roll down the window, hand them a cold beer and take off with nothing said in the middle of the morning?  I was pretty sure that I was witnessing a clear and present example of Rule #1.

After much effort and explaining to Boy #1 the absurdity of the story he had spun, he finally admitted that he had grabbed the beer from dad’s supply at home and had brought it to school with him that morning. But, like the other 3 boys, he claimed that he had not partaken of the fruits of the bottle. His story was that he had opened the bottle, started to take a swallow, got scared after it barely touched his lips and had handed it off to Boy #2.

Now this is where it was getting pretty funny to me. I had 4 eighth grade boys and a single beer. It was brought to school full, had been passed down several times with none of the boys admitting to having drank any of the contents and yet the bottle was now completely empty.

About this time, I decided it was time to get all of the boys together to talk. When I got them into my office, I retold each of their stories as they had relayed it to me earlier with all the candor that I could muster including the absolute denial of all of them to having drank any of the beer.

According to their stories, Boy #1 had opened the beer and handed it to Boy #2 without drinking any. Boy #2 had only sniffed the beer and had given it to Boy #3 who had barely touched it to his lips and had given it to Boy #4 who had reported the bottle only had suds in it when he received it and poured the suds out on the ground.

During this interview, I even told them that I had apparently witnessed a miracle that morning because there had been a full bottle of beer which none of them had admitted to drinking  that  was now empty. I told them based on what they had reported,the only explanation that I could come up with was the beer had totally and completely evaporated within the span of just a few minutes.

After a few minutes, a few sideways glances at one another, and some good old fashioned questioning techniques, they finally admitted to the fact that all of them had partaken of the brew in about equal quantities.

That beer did not evaporate after all unless you count the aroma on the breaths of Boys #1, #2, #3 and #4 after they had consumed the contents.

In the 22 years I was a principal, I had several incidents at various places related to school in which students were caught with some amount of alcohol in their possession or were caught with “whiskey on their breath” so to speak. However, this was one of the more humorous times because of the tales spun by these boys in an effort to keep from paying the price of admission to the party.

The Bible speaks about the passage of time in several different places including references to a day being as a thousand years and a thousand years as a day. It also speaks about how humans plan to use their time when in fact none of us are guaranteed any more time on the earth than the present moment. Proverbs 27:1 says, “Do not boast about tomorrow, for you do not know what a day may bring forth.”  Also, in James 4:13-14 is this – “Now listen you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow.” What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes.” In chapter 3 of Ecclesiastes, there is a lengthy discussion of time in which references are made to many aspects of life for which there is a time including a time to be born and a time to die, a time to laugh and a time to cry, a time to sow and a time to reap that which was sown and several others. These are just a few samples of many places in the scriptures that reference some aspect of time.

Today marks seven months since my wife passed away in an untimely and unexpected manner so these thoughts about time are heavy on my mind. In the months prior to her passing and especially in the months since her passing, I have come to a deeper understanding and realization of how precious time is and how it should be treasured. Just a few weeks before my wife passed away, my friend and community leader Shay McCormick passed away unexpectedly and one of my lifelong friends lost her child to a battel with cancer. Since Mike’s passing away, I have lost several other friends, co-workers, and loved ones who have passed from this earth much too early including just a couple of days ago a friend who passed away suddenly and without expectation at the age of 53.

The seven months since Mike passed away have often been a blur to me with days coming and going while I was just moving on with life. I have experienced the sadness of days, lonely nights, and had many memories about our lives together and the times we had during our 45 years of marriage. My family has gone through the Thanksgiving and Christmas seasons with many happy times with our remaining family members but also with many moments of reflective sadness in which we recalled how much she loved the holiday season, especially Christmas with all of the grandchildren. Though the grief and sense of loss is getting better, there are still moments of time that are hard.

But the passage of time has helped us to continue to heal from our loss. Along with the times of sadness, we have also been able to recall, enjoy and even laugh about some of the funny memories and crazy things that happened in our family over these years such going on vacations to the mountains, the beach, Disney World, New York and many other places, spending time at the kids activities, eating at lots of places, and going places with friends. These good memories help to ease the pain of loss.

And yet, even in these memories, the essence of time and how precious it is keeps crossing my mind. It seems like yesterday that two young folks, one who had just turned 20 years of age (me) the other one still 19 (Mike) got married on February 24, 1973 and struck out on the journey of life without a doggone clue about what the future would hold. I have often wondered how in the world Francis and Mellie Hays and Quincy and Gertrude Lee let us get married at that time.

In looking back, we were about as prepared to be married as I would be ready to climb Mount Everest today buck naked with no help from the Sherpa guides. I was still going to Chipola College, did not have a job, and she was working at the Florida bank in Chipley making a smooth $300.00 a month. On top of that, Francis went to the bank and co-signed a loan with us to buy the required house trailer that was (and still is I guess) the preferred place for young couples in the Florida panhandle to live. I believe our payment for this lovely piece of tin, tires and particle board was $88.00 a month.

Anyway, the next 45 years flew by like the speed of light. During these years, we lived in 9 different places including 2 different trailers, 2 trailer parks, 3 rental homes and 3 homes we either bought or built. We were blessed to have 3 children that we somehow got raised to adulthood, got them all educated and watched them begin families of their own. While these things were going on, time just kept on flying by. I worked in 4 different school systems, she worked at several banks, owned the daycare center and worked at a school for a couple of years. Heck, we even owned and operated a small restaurant one time.

Then the kids were all gone from home and we started the next phase of life with plans to do things together, travel to places we had wanted to go, and see things we wanted to see. But then unexpected events happened and the things we had planned to do were interrupted.

We did not get to take the trips or see the sights we had talked about. We did not get to eat lobster in Maine or see the beauty of the Grand Canyon together. We did not go to Yellowstone National Park or make it to see the giant redwood trees. We did not go on the Alaskan cruise or take that other trip back to New Orleans to eat the gumbo on Bourbon Street.

We ran out of time.

So, what would I desire for anyone who may read this?  I would hope they would not take the time they are allowed on this earth for granted. I would hope to convey to them the advice to use the time afforded to them wisely – take the trip, visit with loved ones, enjoy good health while you have it. Eat the dessert, smell the flowers, go to the beach. Live life and enjoy it to the fullest extent possible with your family, friends and loved ones.

Do not assume that you always will have more time to do these things. It may not be so.