Mr. Briggs was contracted to paint the S.H Kress store on main st. in Houston--He did the work after hours-and me being the bottom senority asst. mgr, I was elected to stay in the evenings while the painting was being done.
Mr. Briggs was a great guy--a white haired gentleman in his 50's I guess.He told me he had a place smack dab in the middle of the National forest near Huntsville Texas--50 acres--with a house and a stocked pond and three deer blinds that he didn't even use.He asked if I hunted and I said yes and he said your welcome to come up to my place on opening day--he said --we got plenty of deer--cause when those fools start blasting in the forrest--they come through my place.
I was totally excited and went to Oshmans the next day and bought a 30/30 Marlin lever action,some camo clothing and mosquito repellent and some boots.
Mr. Briggs had written me a map--and also a layout for his property showing where the blinds were also a key for the padlocks to unlock the hatch going up into the tree stands which were little houses with fold out windows--the three stands were placed around the big half moon shaped field-spaced evenly so three people could hunt.
Opening day came and I got up really early cause I had to make the drive from Houston and find his farm and get to the blind before sunup.
I arrived at the gate to his place lit by a light on a telephone pole and shut off my camaro--I got my stuff together and decided to try to find the deer stand in the middle of the property--I walked about 300 feet and the light by the car wasn't much help anymore--it was pitch black---and I realized I had forgotten one really important thing----a flashlight--oh well- I could see about 6 feet in front of me--I figured I could find the stand--a walked a bit farther and I couldn't see my hand in front of my face--when all at once--a blood curdling scream nearly damaged my eardrum---a mountain lion or puma or whatever big cat it was must have been thinkin about having me for breakfast--ya know--when something happens like that --having a gun is like the last thing on your mind--whatever that animal was--he could see me--and I couldn't see him--and he sounded really close to me.I could see the light in the distance where my car was and I made a b-line to it as fast as my legs would go--it was uphill slightly but I know I ran faster than I have ever run before and felt so good to get to my car--then I felt like an idiot--for waiting till the sun started to come up before I went to the blind. I didn't get a deer that day nor any day I went there--oh I had chances but fate stepped in each time--one time a horse ran the buck out of the pasteur--another time I fired but the deer was 150 yards out of range-I tried to compensate but kicked up dirt at his feet.
I have never gotten a deer--and it was one of the things I set as a goal for my hunting and fishing--goals--I caught the sailfish--no buck yet. later the Codger

No not the western guy--the northern one, my Uncle Bill from Pontiac Michigan.My moms youngest sisters husband!
He arrived on the scene with my aunt to visit us in Edgewater Maryland driving a yellow convertible pulling a beautiful wooden ski boat called a yellow jacket---First of all Bill looked like a movie star--or Elvis--with his thick coal black hair --He always wore the hip cloths and shoes and shirts and was full of life everytime you saw him-he always asked me questions I couldn't answer--He would get me off to the side and whisper hey Ricky-ya gettin any--I didn't know what any meant so I said sure Bill and he would say --good boy!
Bill didn't have a care in the world--spend money and have fun was his credo--He was the adopted son of a wonderful couple who had built a chain of meat stores around Michigan-or at least Pontiac and loved their adopted son to death and gave him anything he wanted--he was newly married to my Aunt and their wedding present was a new split level house fully furnished with all bills paid. Bill worked a bit in the family business--but mainly had fun.The two of them were involved in water ski competition-and were doing really well.
Bill said that he came there to teach me how to water ski---but first he gave us a ride in the Yellow Jacket and would it fly!!He said now I'm really going to show ya something--he went back to the stern and adusted something on each side of the motor--aluminum scoops---when he put the throttle forward and built up speed--they created arches of water that went behind the boat 200 feet on each side of the transom--it was a sight to see--but that was Bill--a fun and gun kinda guy--not to be confused by Steve Spurriers fun and gun offense at Florida--although both were exciteing.
We went down to the cove and Bill and my Aunt gave me water ski lessons---verbally--now it was time to do it for real----fast forward--I fell 5 times--got up on the 6th try and on wobley legs made it from the cove by our house just past the curve-before falling---then the next time I made it clean out to the South River---I could ski!!! Yeah-I was 11 years old--it was a milestone memory--brought me by Uncle Bill and Aunt Bonnie--there would be others.---later The Codger

Hero

The following story was sent me by a cousin and genealogy researcher,it was research for a book that Perry's Great Aunt Sadie Jones Allen,was working on before her death (more closet research)
The manuscript was called Potpurri---this story involves our GG Grandfather Benjamin Perry Jones---the Story is called Hero.

My Grandfathers military career was not a brilliant one.His stories of the Civil War were not the usual ones and I was quite a big girl before it dawned on me that it wasn't necessarily modesty which accounted for the non-heroic roles he seemed to play in them.
Grandpa was a slight,stooped,bearded man when I knew him.His beard was white,as was what remained of his hair.He was an extraordinary good business man and when I was born into the family,quite a wealthy one.But first of all he was a family man.He sired a large family and till the day of his death,at 86,he was the true patriarch.
He grew up just before the Civil War started.His father had died and left a widow with several children when he was a small boy.They were not of the wealthy southern aristocrats of literature,who sat on the galleries of southern mansions and dipped mint julips.Instead they lived a hard life,one jump ahead of starvation and worked from sunup till sundown to keep body and soul together.Grandpa had little education:he had a shrewd mind and at an early age spent much of his time figuring how he could outsmart fate,make a good living,and avoid as much manual labor as possible.He married young and when he and his Betty had produced two sons,the Confederate States of America was created.Fort Sumpter was fired on,and the country was involved in the Civil War.
Grandpa wasn't too excited about the situation,he owned no slaves and he had been pretty satisfied with the status quo.However,though reluctant to leave his family,he finally decided that it was his duty to enlist in the Confederate Army.
After a year in service he had by one means or another acquired little cash. He was eager to go home and see about Betty and the children,so he hired a substitute to take his place.While he was gone the substitute was killed. So offically,my Grandfather was killed in the Civil War-a hero who gave his life for the Confederacy.Years later he enjoyed telling of it as he sat surrounded by many children and Grandchildren who had appeared on the scene during the years after the war ended.
One day when I was a small girl,I ask my Grandfather,"How many Yankees did you kill in the war?"He thoughtfully stroked his beard and with a twinkle in his blue eyes,said"Well,I killed as many of them as they did of me!"

Back in the early 60's we were on one of our many early evening fishing trips to Lake Berry--in Winter Park Florida--My dad his first cousin Bubber and me.
We saw the lights flash on Bubbers car and knew they were there to pick us up.
There was no boat ramp on Lake Berry, we just slid our 18 ft. river Batou into the lake and hauled it back up the bank when we were finished fishing.
We arrived back at shore and were suprised that Bubbers mother, my Aunt Louise were there waiting for us-along with Aggie, Bubbers wife. Aunt Louise was a pistol-she was old even then--and would eventually live to see her 100th birthday in the year 2000.
We got out of the boat and Aunt Louise had everyone picking grapefruit off the trees by the lake--she even sampled some and said UMMM Good. We had fished that lake a long time but never bothered the mans fruit--not Aunt Louise--she was down from Ga. for a visit and that grapefruit looked really tempting.
The trunk of Bubbers Oldsmobile was filling up fast when a voice came out of the darkeness--are yall enjoying stealing my fruit?
That shook everyone up a bit--and the man spoke again and we honed in on where the voice was coming from--there sat the owner of the property --sittin on a tree stump--he had watched the whole thing and no one saw him.Aunt Louise walked over to the man introduced herself and said--Honey stolen fruit is by far the sweetest. I don't know if he was disarmed by her deep southern accent or what but he said yall just take it with my blessings--and Aunt Louise got his address and said she would send him some Pecan Divinity that she makes. The Codger

My father actually learned how to fly an airplane when he was a little boy--but didn't have a license--so when we moved to Maryland around 1952--he decided to take care of that and get all his different flying licenses--private-instrument-rating--commercial-instructor-and seaplane and multi-engine---to accomplish all this he had to take a second job for Sealtest Dairy repairing their refrigeration equipment--so by day he was foreman of GreenSpring dairy and by night Sealtest---and there was one great advantage with Sealtest--they gave him an 8 hole icecream feezer and he kept it stocked with all the favorite icecream creations--you don't think our house was popular in the neighborhood!!
My dad not only got all his licenses he became wing commander for Civil Air Patrol--and was always involved in search and rescue--one night we got a call at home that a small jet was having engine trouble and might not make the lighted field it was trying for--The airstrip near our house was not a lighted field--but dad said he had flare pots in the storage building of CAP for emergency--and I got to go with my dad and line the field and light these flare pots to give the pilot an alternate emergency place to land--he didn't have to land there but it looked good and I feel he could have set down there safely.I was proud as a little kid to assist my dad that night.
thats a wrap tonight--later Gator