Pondering in the porch swing today. It’s warmer outside than in my house. The sky is overcast in melted vanilla ice cream, swirled with blues and cigar smoke grays. The sun is doing her best to peek through the cloud covers. I’m watching eight pair of cardinals on the bird feeders. The squirrels are scampering around making noise and setting off “Frank” alarms from the magnolias across the street. Got the mail out of the box when I was walking Penelope and looking at the Subway coupons made me think of a funny story about my husband, Chief. The man was very intelligent, had 26 sets of encyclopedias he read like novels, but he did not have one ounce of common sense. You might remember this blog I wrote on Chief back in November of 2023…

Many years ago we were in Roanoke for the weekend. We came every two weeks back then to spend the weekend and check on the house. I have a Christmas decoration addiction and usually started decorating the last weekend in October so I could have the house fully decorated by our McMurray family Christmas dinner. Chief was in the sun room (I call it the lady den now) which he called the writing room. He was working on his history of Alabama’s county courthouses when I hear him say, “Mama, let’s get a suburban.” I’m up on a ten foot ladder, holding on by my toenails, hanging a Christmas garland, and I’m thinking where is this new car fever coming from him so I remind him we already talked about getting a new car in August.

He says, “No, one of those suburban things you eat!” I’m thinking he’s having a stroke or something and it dawns on me he means a Subway sandwich. So I say, laughing, “You mean a subway?” He laughs, too, and says, “Yes, that’s what I meant.” So we gather up Penelope and off we go to Subway. He loved to go in and order the sandwiches so he asked me twice what kind I want and off he goes. He comes back with the sandwiches and says, “Mama, I forgot what kind you wanted so I got you a baloney Subway.” Y’all I am starving, looking at him like he’s lost his mind, thinking who even knew Subway had a bologna sandwich. Seriously, he forgot what I wanted and with all the choices he chose bologna! I was trying so hard to not say anything unkind, thinking he is the only husband in the world who would buy their wife a bologna sandwich. And I’m probably the only wife who would eat it! I do eat a bologna sandwich at home but who would order that with all the choices available? So I say, “That’s great. I know you’ll love it so I’ll share half with you!” We cut our sandwiches in half and shared them.

The man had no common sense and would get himself into scrapes when he was’t thinking. I came home one afternoon from work and he meets me at the car and says, “Mama, I think I plowed my glasses up in the garden.” He hadn’t had them long and the thought of having to buy new ones depressed me but I said, “Let me look and see if I can find them.” He was working on a little parcel of ground for a turnip green patch. He had little gardens all around in the woods near our house. The sheriff’s department’s drug helicopter landed once in his sister’s back yard thinking all the little patches were marijuana gardens. His sister was babysitting our children that day and she fussed at the sheriff deputies for scaring the children, for thinking her brother was growing drugs. Made a good tale that afternoon when I got home.

But back to the glasses. I looked all over that little garden and lectured him for putting them on a tree limb to start with. He could have easily put them in the wheelbarrow where he had put his t-shirt when he got hot. We looked forever and finally gave up. I go out there one more time around sunset and a ray of sun struck them right when I got to the little garden. They weren’t even bent just covered in red dirt. He was so proud I found them. I think he said I was a “wonder,” whatever that is.

Once I came home from town and my youngest said, “Daddy cut his finger with the bow saw and it’s dripping blood. He put masking tape on it ‘cause you never buy us any bandaids! I think he might need to go to the Emergency Room.” I go check on him and sure enough the blood is running down his finger dripping on the saw blade. As usual, he’s not even concerned, he’s just happily sawing up firewood in the afternoon sun. “Chief,” I say, “Get in the car so we can go to the Emergency Room and get your finger sewed up.” He says, “No, it’s fine. I poured Listerine on it and covered it with masking tape. To go out there will cost a thousand dollars.” Oh my God, I thought.

We get to the Emergency Room and the nurse asks me if we had put anything on it. “Well,” I said. “He poured Listerine on it.” The nurse starts lecturing me for letting him pour Listerine on the cut. Keeps on lecturing me as she tries to get the masking tape off the wound. Chief keeps saying, “Listerine is an antiseptic.” The nurse is all tore up with our stupidity. “Now, we’ll have to boil the Listerine out before we can even look at the cut to see if it needs stitches!” she says. She was very, very grouchy. She goes on and on lecturing us and when she’s through I tell her I wasn’t at home when it happened and I give her my best Southern “bless your heart” look! Three bowls of peroxide later the doctor comes in, cleans the cut, and just puts a bandaid on it. Only cost $2200 for the bandaid but insurance covered it!

I miss this man and our adventures more and more everyday!

“Your love is the light that brightens my darkest days. I am forever grateful for you.” — Anonymous