If you’re looking for a way to escape the burdens of today, or maybe you just want a chance to remember what it was like back then, grab a copy and get lost in the stories of friends, Henry, Oris, donkeys, a bull, my neighbor, Elmer and that rickety old mule rescue lady down the road.
If you don’t have a copy of my book, click the link on the right and buy one. It’ll make me a happier mule writer!
No, folks, he ain’t pushing up daisies and his tail isn’t tucked between his legs. I spoke to him twice yesterday and once the day before. He’s even sitting up now and then to take a little nutrition and gets some exercise when the dog takes him for a walk.
We’ve discussed it and decided he might survive the process of moving from one day to the next if he just keeps waking up every morning. He’s developed an extreme aversion to keyboards and we’re trying to help him overcome his fear of the mouse, so he can go back to writing now and then…
I did mention that if this problem continues, we’ll all insist he hire a typist and start putting his words on a tape recorder so we can read something HE wrote for a change, instead of stuff I wrote about him. Of course, I could get a little more serious about this and start telling y’all stories about him.
Like the time he got caught drinking his bathwater and picking his nose in public… I’m sure Henry would like to hear THAT story, too.
So, shy guy… Shall I keep writing for you?
Oris didn’t tell this… Of that, I’m certain, because I’d lay you odds if Oris George told this, there’d have been a goat, a donkey and Henry involved.
Little Johnny lived in the country. They had to use an outhouse, and Little Johnny hated it because it was hot in the summer and cold in the winter and stank all the time. Read more »
All are welcome there.
This morning I found a small box in the back of the storeroom. On the back of a piece of wallpaper I found this note from my great Aunt Zilpha. The advice was good then and still good today:Some people are too tired to give a smile. Give them one of yours, as no one needs a smile so much as he has none to give.
Wednesday I took a jackrabbit furlough and drove to the town where I grew up and went to school. I visited some of the places where my friends and I rode donkeys, mules and horses, swam, played and got into good clean mischief.
The huge old and knarled cottonwood tree that stood by the swimming hole is no longer there. I sat in my car. Again, I saw that tree with the rope fastened to a limb that branched out over the swimming hole. I heard again the laughter as my friends and I swung from the rope and dropped into the water dunking each other calling names and good natured insults, and making all kinds of noise. I saw again the beautiful young girl on her horse watching as Henry and I frolicked in the water. Forever etched in my memory is the picture of a pretty girl sitting on her gray Arabian mare laughing at us. It was close to lunch time. We had decided to go home for lunch. We scrambled up the slick and muddy bank. There we stood naked as the day we were born. Only to see a girl setting her horse, laughing at us and making fun of our nakedness. So much for skinny dipping on a summer day.
My friend Henry and I were almost 7 the first time we rode ol’ Red, my mule, and stopped at the swimming hole and went skinny dipping. We tied Red to a crooked cedar fence post and piled our clothes in a neat pile, then jumped in the water. Henry looked up and hollered, “Your stupid dog has run off with some of our clothes!” Sure enough, down the road the dog went with Henry’s pants clamped in his mouth and flopping in the wind.
The years went by, and we tied other mules and donkeys to that same post. The post is gone. Pleasant memories are filed away in my bank of memories. The old tree is gone, some of my friends are gone.
I am now writing another book. Like my currant book, Along the Back Roads of Yesterday, it is filled with stories of dogs, mules, donkeys, and boys growing up in rural America during the late 1930’s and 1940’s. Memories are as fresh in my mind as the day we lived them. I’m having fun writing them and should be finished with the book by next spring.
At least that’s what the Doctor said when they did a Cat Scan – his Lab Work is taking longer though. He refused to see the Black Lab, so they went to find a Yellow Lab and he turned out to be a Golden Retriever, shook his head sadly and said, “I’ve met this nut before… Not a thing in there to retrieve.”So, Oris, wasn’t behaving himself and ended up visiting the ER last weekend. We could tell he was misbehaving because he had that glint in his eye again. You know, the one that says, “Yup, I got away with it that time.”
So, the Doctor checked him out, reattached his leash and gave Patsy a tighter reign on the choke strap, so she could keep him behaving himself. Guess they’re gonna have to kick the tires and check the fluids a little more often. One nurse said, “Well, O, once you get this many miles on a body, you expect it to put out a little more gas, creak and grown a little more on the corners, and run a little slower when you’re traveling the Back Roads. Just be sure to stop a little more often in the shade for a break now and then, you’ll be fine.”
So, now about that Cat Scan… I wonder if anyone has found ole “Ripper” yet. After that scan he left the hospital so fast he left his mouse behind.
So, that’s what Elmer said when I arrived at the George place out on the Arkansas River. Elmer Coyote has a big butt and he cannot lie, according to the Mag Pies in the wood pile. The Meadow Lark and Starlings keeping up a steady rhythm of chirps and cries from the light pole out front indicated there was a snake in the wood pile though, so I wasn’t sure whether to listen to the Mag Pies or tell them to go hunt down the snake.
Elmer and I sat or Oris’ new back porch and chatted up a storm. It blew in from the west like a herd of bawling hungry cattle, until the lightning flashed and the thunder started. Elmer chattered about how bad they need rain in the valley, how the weeds are drying up and looking like the dead of winter, and it ain’t even August yet. Those dog days of summer are still yet to come, and the dogs are already here. Waiting for rain.
I said, “So what has Oris been doin’?”
Elmer said, “You know, I don’t know what he does with his time. He keeps that ole red truck hummin’ down the road, always looks like he’s goin’ somewhere important. But, with O, you never know.”
Well, that said… I been thinking about helping Oris edit his book. I might have to go spend me a whole week on the river and just read over his shoulder. It’s about time for him to get another one out, already. His buddy, Bill Clarke from over at ACE Writers has a book just out… Ditch. It’s available on Amazon.com for anyone who wants to read it.
Guess I’ll stop by again…. Hope I can catch Ole Oris home the next time, that coyote’s gettin’ a little mangy and old looking. Maybe Oris will put out some water and food for him before I come again?
He traveled a good many miles to find out what happened to the old mule writer. He says he’s been to the door several times recently, posted notes and Oris isn’t even reading them anymore. He said, Oris isn’t at the computer much these days either. He asked if I knew what the old mule writer was up to these days and how come he isn’t keeping the world abreast of what’s happening around the George mansion.
He indicated that Oris has been out and about ignoring all the good accomplishments he’s done and hasn’t been reporting them like he’s supposed to. In fact, he said, “If ole Oris doesn’t get his toe in gear and start reporting on the activities around the woodpile, Mr. Magpie and his brother are seriously considering hiring up a new writer for the job.”
Now, I don’t know about anybody else, but I’d say ole Elmer is seriously in need of some press and attention.
What’s up with the mule writer not posting his notes anymore?