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Archive for May 2012

120315 Cousin Corene Smith lived 92 years in Henry County, Tennessee. Cousin Corene, who had given birth to 12 children, has died.

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I didn’t even know Corene was a cousin until well after Joe Frankie, her husband’s nephew, had married my sister Peggy. Man, I’d be dumb as hell without my genealogy and another cousin’s husband, Jim Forsythe, to help me fill up the coal buckets with stories and histories and proof and this and that to show the world that we Moodys were not (for the most part, any, aliens.

Puryear TN. July 10, 2004. Corene Hudson Smith. Her husband was D. L. Smith, brother of my sister’s husband. (flefoto. taken by fle in Puryear at Peggy (my sister) and Joe Frankie’s 50th wedding anniversary.

(Paris Post-Intelligencer – Paris TN – March 16, 2012) — Retired Holley carburetor plant employee Corene Smith, 92, of Paris, died Thursday, March 15, 2012, at Henry County Medical Center.

Her funeral will be at 2pm Saturday at Ridgeway Funeral Home,

Steve Gallimore will officiate. Burial will follow in Hillcrest Memorial Park.

Chosen as pallbearers are Mike, Clint and Philip Smith, Danny Valentine, Ryan and Frank Planchart, Marty Thurman and Jeremy Hart.

Honorary pallbearers will be Stevie, David, Scottie, Stacy, Tony,, Rickie and Glen Smith.

Visitation will be 4-8pm today and after 11am on Saturday.

Born in Paris on September 29, 1919, she was a daughter of the late Harry T. and Carrie Jarman Hudson.

She was married on November 25, 1936 to James Loyd “D.L.” Smith, who died February 22, 1997.

Smith was a member of New Bethel Baptist Church. She was also employed at Salant & Salant  shirt factory. She enjoyed sewing, quilting and being with her family.

She leaves two daughters: Sherron (Lester) and Sue Hopper, both of Paris, six sons: James L. Smith and special friend Mary Ann Grace, Dale (Brenda) Smith and Jeff (Kelly) Smith, all of Paris. Rex (Verla) Smith of Puryear, Jerry (Patricia) Smith, of Romeo, MI, and Jacky (Geralda) Smith of Shelbyville, KY;

One sister: Claudine Hudson of Paris, 29 grandchildren; 50 great-grandchildren and several great-great-grandchildren.

She was also preceded in death by two daughters: Phyllis Ann Planchart and Carolyn “Tee” Valentine; two sons: Ronnie and Terry Gene Smith; one sister; one sister Virginia Hastings; one brother Harold Hudson and three grandchildren.

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May 29, 2012 at 4:12 pm

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120202 Lunchbunch wilflebobcee. Golden Corral. Dayton O. Intrepid quartet uncovers remarkable method of food production, thanks to Asaac Asimov.

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I looked at the pictures; I looked at the blog; I looked here; I looked there; I touched greasy, slushy, smelly stuff in dark corners until – voila – I found the residue of our Lunch at the Golden Corral in Kettering OH. Although, as a rule we don’t go to chain restaurants, since I’ve been fairly severely limited in my movements, we go where they say we can play the rest of the day after lunch the game that brought us together.

SCRABBLE

criptographics. Feb 2, 2012. Bob! Look at Bob! Golden Corral in Kettering has upset him so much because it refuses to give him ammunition to fireback with. “No fair having half-ass decent food, he says. No fair at all.” And so as he plays Scrabble afterward he cannot resist the temptation: he bangs the table, shilly-shallies the window curtains and ….. and … I forget what all.

Golden Corral. Now serving. Here Piggy Piggy. Be nice. No smacking of your lips and no violent movements of your hips. Criptrographics

Feb 2, 1202. Here comes Kelley, tap tap tapping her way through the crowd, desperately seeking her way to our table where she can once again offer us much need iced tea sweet, iced tea unsweet, diet coke no ice without which we would surely collapse inward upon our own selves. Looky, looky, at my yule bib; see how proudly I wear it; see how gladly I bear the cheap cloth that promises to protect me from spillages of all sorts.

Criptographics. 120202 None of us believe another of us when it comes to Scrabble (copyright til you die) words. Thankfully, Wee Willie the Wistful one is equipped for almost-instant analysis.

One of Golden Corral’s biggest boosters if CB, especially on hamburger night or steak night or beef or pork roast night. Wearing my Scrabble (copyright til you die) throw. Criptographics.

Yeah, I’s there, too, for the food. for the bonhomie. for the scrabble. for the “get outa the house effectiousnessity”

Written by frankieleeee

May 29, 2012 at 12:38 pm

1950-ca1953 Mansfield TN farm of Uncle Sam where I lived after Jacky and I left Dad’s doghouse in Whitlock

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ca1950-53. Mansfield, TN.They were wrong. When there’s no other place to go, I went to Uncle Sam’s. The house was green when I when I arrived. There’s a little patch to the right of the front yard where Uncle Same made molasses – hoooked a mulled to a kind of mill to squeeze the liquid out of the can, oh so slowly, but it worked!  (flefotot. fle 080711)

u FIrst time I went back after 40 years I was shocked. All the memories were nearly paralyzing. I woke up with polio in this house one day in November 1950. Also learned a little about farming, tending hogs, driving cattle, picking cotton and even watched a hog killing near the hog lot there on the left near the barnyard.

Uncle Sam died. He was living with Grandmother (his mother) in a little house trailer at his brother’s Uncle J’s farm down the road from where we all had failed to function as a family. Grandmother always said it was the war that did Uncle Sam in. Seemed like to me that Aunt Naomi did tried sometimes to make a go of it with there three bean salad every Sunday, but Aunt Naomi died. Way after I’d gone back to Grandmother’s to live. Now only Joel who was just a kid younger than me at the time, Linda, who was born in the same room where I contracted polio, and David who was born years later are still alive and kicking and thrashing their way through the sawgrass of life.

There’s enough material for at least one book here. Man, if I had the time and the drive, I’d push that boulder up the slope.

Last time I saw someone had turned the farm into a horse care facility.

Written by frankieleeee

May 28, 2012 at 8:26 pm

May 24, 2012. Soul Food sold here! We so swear. Here and now. Hand on a bible. Hand on a spoon. Hell, I carry my spoon with me; theirs aren’t big enough!

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Lunchbunch has been to a lot of eateries during the past ten years. Some awful food from some; some tasty vittles from others.  Soul food. My grandmother who was very distantly related to that African woman 25,000 years ago, nonetheless could put on a cheap country meal with change spilling over from a dollars. Cora, who was less distantly related, had some of the best country food, probably even cheaper in Arkansas. Rmember that special food she’d cook for us every August that came down the pike? Bob never went to Helena because Bob didn’t wanna hear about that ole “blues” music. So he never ate any of Cora’s soul food. CB always went with us into Cora’s restaurant but never ate any soul food, although she did pick out a lot of excuses hidden about the cabbage leaves. I should back up and say everybody had a shredded pork bbq sandwich made by Hoss’s own hands, even those who stuck their noses up at what they thought was soul food. Something for everyone. Except me! I didn’t like the beer Cora sold and I didn’t care much for her chili; Anything else, I fight over quality definition.

But it’s 1012. Cora’s dead and I miss her. I’m dying and wonder whether I’ll still miss her and my other friends after the veil lifts/closes, as the case may  be. But I’m hoping I’ll be a dust mote; that’s my ultimate aim, floating f

March 1947. Newspaper article watered down version of our mom’s death by drunken driver near Puryear

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It occurs to me as I face my own demise that I never learned how softly they slapped Sam Garrett’s wrist after he rammed his car into the rear of our pickup, killing Mom in March 1947. Ronald sent me a story from the Paris Post-intellegencer, a very poor piece, if you ask me. I’ve also asked all who might know the final disposition of the case. Henry County ought be ashamed for the waited they treated poor people in those days. No horsewhips allowed, they whined. Mummies be damned!

My mom looking typically World War II in my imagination. I’m told I was her nemesis, defying, sticking my tongue waaay out in defiance.  Poor Mom. (studio photo. date unknown)

March 1947. Ruby Gordon Sutton Moody killed in car crash involving drunk driving.

Written by frankieleeee

May 25, 2012 at 11:24 am

Posted in Family

ca1972 Paris Tennessee, 3rd largest city in West Tennessee, has been alive with excitement; abuzz with titillating conversation; boiling over with essence of alcohol and molasses.

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Richard Shankle and wife Belew (he’s a distant cousin) in Paris. Richard recently retired from Commercial Bank in Paris. Perhaps his most exciting days were back in the sixties when he drove the bus for the Nelson and Nyeal duo piano team around the country. Neal was son of a Paris lawyer; Nelson was his Australian wife. Gerry and I met them once in Port Huron prior to a concert. Richard’s mom is Gerry’s cousin. I remember his father Buddy and he used to commute to New York City until he went home to settle down to driving a bus 24 hours a day … leastwise, must have felt like it, eh Richard? (flefoto. Paris. TN.)

Written by frankieleeee

May 24, 2012 at 11:04 pm

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ca 1968-69 WJBK AM Radio, Detroit. An array of 12 towers which cost a cool million dollars so they could convert to 50,000 wats. (Yea, the engineers used to say) all the way up Woodward to Japan.

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ca1968 WJBK Radio. Detroit MI. Night DJ Tom(?) Dean hired from Toledo. Ratings of mos jocks in cellar. Each jock had a secretary to keep logs, pull records, etc.

Written by frankieleeee

May 24, 2012 at 10:44 pm

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