"The Caile Cemetery Angel..."

Annie Laura

Wife of W.W. Johnson

October 10, 1865 

December 20, 1919

Not too far from where I live, there is an old cemetery that has been there as long as I can remember... and this beautiful angel stands guard over a grave.

Regardless of the weather, she was always standing there... she became a landmark that I would look for...

The other day, I stopped to see her... and take these images of her...

  

The statuary looks older than the headstone on which she is mounted.  I wonder what the story is?  Did the original headstone break or have some flaw in it??  The headstone says she is the wife of W. W. Johnson... yet he isn't buried there...

What great loves did Annie Laura experience in her life time? What great heartbreaks?? What happiness... what sadness???

It doesn't matter now, I guess...

She has a wonderful guardian.

~shoes~

"Lonesome Dove..."

Are any of you familiar with this mini-series? ... and the book??

It's a story about a relationship between two men... Augustus McCrae and Woodrow Call... who had worked together... lived together... served as Texas Rangers together...  they shared a lifetime of experiences... and for one last adventure, they set out for Montana with a herd of cattle.

Before reaching Montana, Gus is wounded while fighting Indians... and eventually dies from his wounds.  The entire story is a somewhat fictionalized account of a cattle drive that was headed by Charles Goodnight and Oliver Loving.  In particular, Loving (Gus) was attacked by Indians, and died several weeks later of blood poisoning with Goodnight (Call) at his side. Goodnight honored Loving's dying request to be taken back to Texas for burial.

Read HERE about Charles Goodnight 

and HERE about Oliver Loving.

In 'Lonesome Dove,' after the death of Gus, Call continues the drive to Montana with the cattle and to establish a ranch.  Afterwards, Call returns for Gus' body... and begins the journey back to San Antonio to fulfill Gus' burial wishes.

Scooter would come to visit me in my office... and we would spend time screwing off discussing the hot topics of the day.  He had noticed my photos of Monument Valley that I have framed and on my walls.  He always wanted to go... and I told him that if he ever got well enough, that I would take him.

In the meantime, Scooter, had heart surgery... things didn't go well... and he was sent home, under hospice care, to die.  In planning for Larry's demise, decisions were made... and one was for him to be cremated.

I wound up getting a text message from one of Larry's sisters... stating that he had a request...   He wanted to know if I would take his ashes to Monument Valley and scatter them among some buttes...  I feel so honored by this request...

So... some time this May... after classes are over, Scooter and I WILL make that trip westward together...

Much like the trip of Woodrow Call and Gus McCrae...

He's my friend...

It's the least I can do...

~shoes~

"Windsor Ruins..."

(my photo)

South of Vicksburg, MS are two cities that are rich in antebellum (before the war) architecture,  Port Gibson and Natchez.  One can find  magnificent homes here... from back once upon a time when cotton was king. The topic of this post is "Windsor"... or more specifically, "Windsor Ruins"... the remains of a magnificent home that was built between these two cities.

"Windsor" was built by Smith Coffee Daniell II, a wealthy landowner. Construction began in 1859 and was completed in 1861.  Windsor was the largest antebellum home in Mississippi and sat on a 2,600-acre plantation in Claiborne County. The house cost about $175,000 ($3.5 Million in today's dollars) to build.  It was grand... it was opulent.  Mark Twain is said to have visited here many times... 

And as so many stories like this go, Smith Daniell only lived in the house for several weeks before he died at the age of 34.  So it goes, huh?

The image above is a drawing completed by  Henry Otis Dwight, a Union officer with the 20th Ohio Infantry, as to what the house looked like. This is the only depiction of the house created by someone who actually saw the home.  During the Civil War, the house was occupied by Confederate military, and then later, by General U.S. Grant and members of his military detachment.  The house was also used by Union forces as a hospital... and is cited as being one of the reasons that Grant didn't burn the house to the ground.

This is another artist's rendition of 'Windsor'...  there is a slight variation from the above drawing, in that this one shows steps on the two sides that the viewer can see... the prior drawing shows steps only at the front of the house.  It may be that the above drawing was a suggestion for what the house could look like, as opposed to what was actually built.  

Front Steps At Windsor

These front steps have since been removed from the ruin, and donated to Alcorn State University, in Lorman, MS...

Current Installation

of  steps at

Alcorn State University

The wealth of the family was devastated during the war... it is estimated that Grant's forces burned over 31,000 bales of cotton that belonged to the family.  Since the American South supplied England with over 75% of the cotton they needed, the destruction of the cotton grown and processed by the South put a great crimp in the Confederate economy as well as that of England.

Stories have it that a Union soldier was killed on the steps shown above... other stories say that wounded Union soldiers died while being cared for at this site... and are buried on the grounds.

These stories are possibly why the apparition of a Union soldier is often sighted around the ruins.  I wish I had read more about the history of the site... I would have been interested in looking to see if I could have found the 'soldier'... there are also stories of music wafting from the ruins... I do have to admit to having heard music while at the site, but I didn't think it to be from years past... from happier times...

(my photo) 

I also learned after the fact that the family cemetery is close by... covered by brush and such... I  would have looked for it and found it...

Anyway... on the night of February 17, 1890, the house caught fire and burned to the ground.  There are several explanations out there about the cause of the fire... but all include a discarded cigar that found its way either into a trash heap... or next to a curtain that caught fire... and even a pile of sawdust...

All that remains are these 23 columns...

(my photo)

Get out and learn the history of your area... there is so much to learn... so much to see...

~shoes~

"Bone Pickers..."

Dem Bones...

One of the indigenous Indian tribes of Mississippi would be the Choctaw Indians...  they worshiped the Sun as a supreme being... and when a member of the tribe died, his face was painted with a unique design and dressed in his/her best clothing...  so that the Sun would recognize him/her... and the body was laid atop a scaffold... where it would sit for as few as three months or maybe as long as a year.

)

Among the Choctaws was an esteemed position within the tribe called a "bone picker"...  and after the body had been exposed to the elements for the time allowed, they would come in and pick the remaining flesh off of the bones...

I've been helping Scooter's Mom and Sister with the "bone picking"... we have been at his apartment going through stuff... and what to do with it... what goes home with them... what is donated to libraries and such... and what goes into the trash...

So, this is what happens to us... 

So it goes...

~shoes~

"Scooter... One More Time...

Dr. Lawrence Lee Magee

September 4, 1948 – March 4, 2014

I love you, Scooter...

... and will miss you.

~Jim~

"My Letter To Larry..."

Scooter...

(TOO serious...)

Dear Larry...

A week has come and gone since I received the first text message that things were amiss with you and your well being.  Your sister kept me posted and up-to-date on things that were happening... how things were progressing.

After having received the first message, I was prepared to pack a bag and be on my way down to be there with you...  Your family (sister) said it wasn't necessary, that you didn't want company.

I understood that and respected that...

As the week wore on, I decided that I would come down and see you anyway... you are my pal... friends do things like this.  I wanted you to know... I needed you to know that I have valued you and your friendship this much... and our friend, Jerry, made the trip with me...

Never mind that you caused me to un-friend you FOUR times on Facebook...

At times you could be SUCH a dick!!!

Scooter

(More Like The One I Knew At Work...)

... like the time you were so  mean-spirited at Lunch, that I had no other choice but to get up and walk out... You could have such a sharp tongue, and be so mean-spirited with your comments, although you possibly/probably didn't quite mean them that way.

... like the time you corrected a nurse who said she would relay some of your questions to the doctor... and you were quick to point out that you were also a doctor...

Someone had written your name on a dry-erase board in your hospital room, and you managed the  energy and strength to get up, walk to the board, and write 'Dr.' before your name.

But you were also the funny guy who announced to a group of us that you could moonwalk like Michael Jackson...

... and of course you couldn't...

... or the time you told us... insisted to us... 

that you looked like Brad Pitt....

... which of course, you didn't...

But... I am glad that we were able to come down and see you...

I hope that you heard and recognized my voice... when I first got there... and I leaned over and announced in your ear... that 'some people will do ANYTHING to get out of work...'

I think you heard Jerry when he told you that we were going to break you out and take you to Bourbon Street... and find you a whore...  I think you heard that because you actually strung together a few coherent words... something along the line of...

"... that would be fun..."

... the way you seemed to turn your head towards me when I called you, "Scooter"...

I am sure you didn't hear me when I had to go outside from time to time to cry...

I'm not ashamed or embarrassed to cry... I just didn't want you to hear it...

But my heart is so broken...

I miss you so... and will miss you even more so as time passes...

(how I will always remember you...)

I will remember that day you came up with that brilliant observation...

"No one gets to choose his own nickname!"

... and then you set out to disprove it by coming up with names that you always wanted us to call you.  Instead of those 'power names' you wanted, we opted for names such as 'Mageever,'... or 'Scooter,'... or 'Lars'...

I had hope to see that glimmer in your eye when you had something fabulous or funny that you were going to share...

I hope you were able to recognize my voice... and understand my message... when I said those last words to you before I left...

"I love you, buddy..."

~Octopus Prime~

(one of his nicknames he had for me...)

P.S.

I'll be damned..

Upon further reflection, 

you DO look like Brad Pitt!!!