the second mate
heard steps on the creosote pier
it was six bells on
what would have been the midwatch
on the ketch;
all hands were on liberty;
 the mate was the only soul on board;
the steps continued up the gangway,
across the quarterdeck
to the hatch of the mate’s stateroom;
there were several knocks on the hatch;
the mate did not go to the hatch;
the mate didn’t open it:
“you can’t come in;
“i’m not ready to go;
i have things yet to do,
places to see,
people to meet,
and
i must sail several more seas.
the mate heard steps again
but
they were fading across the deck;
the mate heard them leaving,
walking down the gangway
and
off the pier.
the mate breathed a sigh of relief:
in a fortnight, the ketch
would go to sea again.

No, this isn’t about this old man. It’s a really old joke, one of my favorites. i do not recall who told it to me, but i’m pretty sure it was on my first ship, the USS Hawkins. i have this dim recollection of it being told to me in the most aft port stateroom in after officer’s quarters, which i shared with two other officers.

Charlie was in his late thirties when he began to have terrible migraine headaches. When they became more frequent and lasted longer, he went to see his doctor. The doc tried several prescriptions and recommended several routines, but over a couple of months, nothing worked. The migraines continued.

The doc finally told Charlie that the only thing they could do to get rid of the headaches was to castrate him. Charlie was shocked and refused. But he went home and the headaches became unbearable after a few weeks. He went back and agreed to be castrated.

After the procedure, Charlie’s migraines were completely gone. He was elated. But several weeks after the castration, he began to be depressed, deep depression.

After several weeks of this, his wife Louise told him that she often became depressed at that time of her month, and it always cheered her up to go shopping for new clothes. She suggested Charlie try it.

So, Charlie found a good men’s store in the phone book and went there to shop. The clothes salesman greeted him as he came through the entrance.

“What can I do for you?” he asked politely.

“I want a complete new outfit, suit, hat, shirt, shoes, etc.,” Charlie replied, and added, “Where do you want me to stand to get measured?”

“Well, sir,’ the salesman responded, “I’ve been doing this for quite a while, and I have become pretty decent as sizing men for clothing. For example, you should wear a size 40 regular jacket with a 36 inch waist and an inseam of 32 inches.”

“Wow,” Charlie responded, “That’s remarkable. It’s exactly what i wear.”

The salesman nodded. “As for shoes, you should wear a size 10, medium width, which would mean you need size 10 socks.”

“Right again,” Charlie said, amazed at the guy.

The salesman continued, “You should wear a dress shirt with a 15-inch neck and sleeve length of 34 inches. How about a hat?”

“Sure, the stunned Charlie stuttered.

“That would be a size 7 1/8. How about underwear?”

Charlie nodded agreement.

“Your undershirt should be a medium and your underpants should be 36-inches.”

“Aha, I caught you,” Charlie said excitedly, “You finally got something wrong. I’ve worn size 34 underwear since i grew up.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t, the salesman exclaimed with alarm.

“If you wear 34-inch underwear, it will squeeze your balls and cause migraine headaches!”

The process of going through old photos is frustrating and without end. But i’m trying. Here are some more:

i’m guessing this was 1943. i could be off a year either way. It’s taken on the steps to fellowship hall next to the sanctuary at the First United Methodist Church when it was on East Main Street between the post office and Hankins and Smith Motor Company. My cousins were visiting from Red Bank. First row: cousin Johnny Orr, goofy kid, Sally Ann Eskew, Marilyn Smith, Deanie Martin, Harry Vickers; second row: Rose Major, Roberta Padgett, cousin Nancy Orr, (?) Lore (?) (i can’t read my mother’s handwriting on this one). and Bobby Hesson.

My best friend from somewhere around first grade when his family returned from New Mexico until now and beyond. i think it’s his sophomore class photo at LHS. Again, i may be a year off. George Henry Harding, V.

The Jewell family men at breakfast in their homestead on Castle Heights Avenue, circa 1994. This was where we ate from 1956 when we added on to the house until the siblings began to leave beginning with me permanently in 1967.

That’s all this morning. i have some real work to do.

Every once in while, as i rummage through piles of stuff i continue to try and organize, label, and toss, i find amazement.

Amazement rolled all over me Saturday afternoon. i was straightening up my “Briar Patch” in the garage and moving some boxes of photos in order to put some reasoning into when i actually get to going through them for real.

i opened up one of the boxes to pull negatives and put them in a separate box. Near the bottom, i found it. i don’t know how it got in that box as i have a separate place for my Aunt Naomi Jewell Martin’s memorabilia my cousin Maxwell gave to my father who subsequently passed them to me.

i have posted photos of several earlier.

This one lives in unknown history:

i am pretty sure the man on the left is my great grandfather, Hiram Carpenter “Buddy” Jewell. i am reasonably sure the man on the right is Barbee Carpenter Jewell, Buddy’s older brother. i did not know either played fiddles. They both were born and lived in Statesville, Tennessee.

It struck me fiddle playing ran in the family. My cousin, Graham Williamson, who recorded several bluegrass records and occasionally played the fiddle in Roy Acuff’s band at the Grand Ole Opry.

The red marks on the photograph come from the glass plate back of the black piece of paper, which backs the image itself on a transparent film. Without the black paper and glass behind it, the image is barely discernible. The red is from a date written on the glass. It was taken in 1866.

i am far from an expert in old photographs, especially ones that old. i think it is an Ambrotype. From Google’s AI explanation: “Popular in the 1850s–1860s, these are wet-collodion negatives on glass that look like positive images when placed against a black background. They are usually found in protective cases.”

That pretty well describes tis photograph of Buddy and Barbee. Regardless of what type of photo it is, i wish i had met them and wish i could have heard them play those fiddles.