Category: Fun

Hang in with me, folks. I have a good story for you.

 

About three weeks ago, I pulled our car in front of the University of Tennessee Medical Center as Helen came through the front door in a wheelchair. She had hip replacement surgery the day before and was now released to go home and continue her recovery. All had gone exceptionally well, but she was still a bit loopy from the pain medication. Nevertheless, I asked for one favor.

 

“Honey, I said, I need to make one stop at a remote broadcast of WNML (Sports Radio).

 

“Why?”

 

“Well, they’re giving away an RV, and I want to put my name in the hopper.”

 

“We already have an RV,” she says through her loopy-ness.

 

“I know, but this way we will have his and hers RVs. Besides, we’re not going to win anyway.”

 

She relented, then dozed off as I drove to Image Matters, a printing and copying business, and the site of the remote broadcast. I entered the lobby and found the announcers in the conference room. They continued their radio show while I filled out two entry slips—one for me and one for my loopy cutie in the car. As we drove home, I heard Eric Ainge, former Tennessee quarterback turned sports radio host, tell the audience that he was about to pull one name from the entry box and that the person who’s named he called would qualify for a reverse raffle on September 28 to win The Ultimate Tailgate Camper. Eric pulled out an entry slip with my name on it and announced it over the radio. I was in!

 

Being an avid sports fan in general, and a Tennessee football fan in particular, I listen to WNML, known as the “Sports Animal” almost every day. And, nearly every day, I would hear the names of additional qualifiers announced for the same drawing. About a week before the reverse raffle, I received a call from a producer at the radio station telling me that I needed to arrive at Buddy Gregg RV before 11:00 am on the 28th to register for the drawing. I asked how many entrants qualified for the raffle. He told me they expected about 225. No way would I ever get through that gauntlet.

 

On that Saturday morning, I let Helen know I was leaving. She said she wanted to come but was moving a little slow and would arrive later. “Ok,” I said, then picked up the keys to Butch, the truck we use to pull our fifth-wheel trailer. Before I drove away, I had the thought that maybe I should take our trailer hitch with me. At first, I felt that by taking the hitch, I would jinx the deal, but I threw it in the truck bed—we weren’t going to win anyway, but let’s think positive.

 

I arrived at Buddy Gregg RV around 10:15. The registration line was long and snaked around The Ultimate Tailgate Camper wrapped with pictures depicting game day activities for Tennessee football and logos for the sponsors—Buddy Gregg RV, WNML, and Hound Dogs, a very popular retailer of Tennessee clothing and merchandise. Finally, I reached the registration table where a lady from the station pulled a pre-printed slip with my name on it to place in a capsule. Just before she closed the capsule, she dropped the slip. 

 

“Uh-Oh, I said, that’s not a great sign.”

 

“I don’t know; it may be a good one, she replied, that’s the only one I’ve dropped so far.”

 

While I waited for the drawing to begin at 11:00, I stuck my head in The Ultimate Tailgate Camper to get a feel for it. It is a 2020 Heartland Prowler 180rb, measuring 22 feet long with dual wheels, a plus. There is a queen bed in the front, a very nice refrigerator, microwave, and a large oven by camper standards. A bathroom, complete with a tub shower and plenty of storage filled the rear of the trailer. The entire camper has excellent storage. The dinette is roomy and has a custom-made table-top that many former football players have personally autographed. Also, the winner would receive Tennessee tailgate gear such as pop-up shelters, tables, chairs, cornhole games, serving dishes, stadium cushions, stadium blankets, and $400 worth of gift certificates—all from Hound Dogs! I walked away, very impressed. The value of the camper and the goodies totaled well over $20,000!

 

Finally, the time for the drawing arrived at about the same time Helen walked onto the lot. Jeff Jarnagin, a long-time Knoxville radio personality and PA announcer for Tennessee football games, gave an overview of the process. One hundred and sixty-three contestants had shown up to register that morning. Every name called is no longer eligible to win the camper, Jeff said, until we get to the last two contestants. Then, they would pull those two capsules and announce only one name—the winner.

 

If you’re getting bored by now, bear with me a little bit longer.

 

Jeff, and fellow announcers Heather Harrington and Josh Ward, read the names one at a time. Groans, mumbles, and other forms of disappointment filled the air with each name called, and the unsuccessful entrants came forward to receive a “Goody Bag” as a consolation prize. At one point, Josh told the crowd that forty names remained and, a few minutes later, twenty. Heather asked the remaining contestants to move closer. Helen and I looked at each other somewhat stunned because we were among that group of twenty. We’re both pretty superstitious, and neither of us wanted to move from our lucky spots. We had no choice and inched closer to the hopper bearing the last twenty names. Suddenly we’re down to ten, and we haven’t been asked to leave yet.

 

With four names remaining, I would not look up and into the eye of anyone pulling names. I just held on to my cane (bad knee) to keep from falling over. Now, we’re down to two—a gentleman named Virgil and me. Heather and Josh prolonged the suspense, and I shook Virgil’s hand, wishing him luck.

 

There was another pause in the activity until the radio broadcast returned from a break and prepare for the winner’s name to be announced on the air. Jeff walked over and introduced himself to Virgil, then turned to Helen and me to ask which of us had our name in the hopper. I replied that I was the entrant and I had brought my good luck charm with me. Helen got a hug, and I got good luck wishes from Jeff.

 

Finally, Josh reached for the last two capsules and pulled a name from one of them, then looked at Virgil. My heart sank. He announced the winner’s name.

 

Virgil got sent home, and I was the last man standing.

 

During the next half hour, Helen’s faced almost cracked; she smiled so broadly. We completed a stack of paperwork and tax forms. I had time to give The Ultimate Tailgate Camper a new name…Smokey, in honor of the Tennessee mascot, a Blue Tick hound of the same name. I pulled out the trailer hitch I thought I wouldn’t need and hooked up the camper to Butch. Smokey followed me home. By now, I was whistling a chorus of Rocky Top, and joyfully, Easin’ Along.

About two weeks ago, I received an email from a longtime friend and classmate that several members from our college fraternity planned to gather in Sandestin, Florida for a long weekend of fun and fellowship. I very much wanted to join them, but my attendance depended on Helen’s recovery from her recent hip replacement surgery. Several days before the date of the event, Helen walked a mile through the streets of our neighborhood. I applauded her remarkable progress, gave her a big hug, and immediately began packing. Helen agreed that she could spare her full-time nurse for a few days.

I became a member of Sigma Alpha Epsilon (SAE) in 1966 during my freshman year at the University of Tennessee. Our pledge class had 68 members, one of the largest classes in the history of the Tennessee chapter. All of us were baby boomers and members of a very large freshman class.  There were some great guys in that pledge class, and I made many friends and have remained in contact with a number of them over the years, but this gathering would be the first opportunity I would have to see some of these fellows in nearly 50 years.

After graduation about eight or ten, perhaps more, of our fraternity brothers gathered every other year, usually during a big football weekend in Knoxville to attend the game and spend time together. Several years ago, they acknowledged that no one was getting any younger and decided to have the event every year going forward, and, since about five of them have homes in the Sandestin area, the Florida resort town became a convenient place to bring everyone together. I felt fortunate to be able to join them for this gathering.

I arrived at the home of my friends Thursday mid-morning. Rob, a member of our pledge class and his wife Becky have a home in Sandestin and offered me a place to stay. Their home, right on the Bay, is lovely and has a great view of the water. Another couple from college days, Mal and Nancy, also were staying there.  After a short run into the town of Sandestin for lunch and a few hours of catch-up conversation, it was time to go to the first of three gatherings planned for the weekend. I was hopeful that all of the names would come back to me.

Except for red hair that was now white, and the addition of about 30 pounds, I didn’t think my appearance had changed much and, to my surprise, their’s hadn’t either.  Every name came back to me except for one.  I struggled to recall the name of a dentist from Nashville and avoided him until his name finally crawled out from deep crevices in my memory bank. There was one more gentleman from my pledge class who had changed completely—short hair now long (and dark), and the loss of a significant amount of weight.  Fortunately, he introduced himself before I had to ask.

Several factors worth mentioning distinguish this group. As mentioned above, we are all baby boomers, children of the Greatest Generation, people who had lived through a Great Depression and a World War and wanted a better life for their children. A better life called for a college degree.  Our generation lived under the shadow of the Viet Nam War…and the draft. That meant that we either stayed in school or stood in line for a pair of combat boots. Therefore, we took our education seriously for the most part and studied hard during the week. We partied just as hard on the weekend. Those days were a lot of fun (I remember most of them).

Over the next two nights in Sandestin, I worked diligently to catch up on the last 50 years in the lives of these men. I didn’t make it around to all of them, but I learned enough to know that each of them represented our generation in an exemplary manner. Included in this group was a Navy pilot who traded in his uniform for a long career in a Federal Express jet. There were professionals in the fields of medicine and engineering. Business professionals included those involved in large scale real estate development, insurance, finance, transportation, travel, retail, manufacturing, and management consulting. The conversations were fascinating and lasted long into the evening (or at least as long as we could stay awake). I’m proud to say I know them.

Saturday’s schedule called for a barbeque luncheon during the televised Tennessee-Florida football game, but I had to head back to Knoxville.  My drive was longer than most, and I wanted to get back to Helen before she took off to play pickleball on her new hip, or decided to leave me for a better offer. Nevertheless, I brought home some memories of a great time with some great guys who had taken life by the horns, made the best of it, and made the Greatest Generation proud.

I’ll leave you with a picture from a boat ride in the Bay at Sandestin.  Then I’ll be Easin’ Along.

 

In 1979, Helen and I were planning an end of summer vacation to Pawleys Island, SC, a cozy little beach community that she visited with her parents from the time she was about six years old. I learned to love Pawleys Island while stationed at nearby Ft. Jackson, SC during my Army days. Although much has changed about Pawleys Island since those days, the best description I can give for the town at that time is that there was nothing to do there but relax, swim, work on our tan, and cook seafood.

We rented a small, two-bedroom house for that vacation and decided to ask our dear friends, John and Debbie if they would like to share the house with us. Neither of them had been to Pawleys before and this would be a great way to celebrate John’s 30^th birthday in the middle of the week. So, with our very young children parked at the grandparents, we took off for some fun in the sun, oblivious to Hurricane David roiling the Atlantic off to our south and moving in the direction of the South Carolina coast.

During the middle of the week, on John’s birthday, we were forced to evacuate the island.  Fortunately, we were smart enough to call ahead and obtain a reservation for the last room available in a Florence, SC motel. Fortunately because room seekers filled the lobby of the motel when we arrived and we could only smile at them as we worked our way through the crowd to pick up the last key from a frazzled desk clerk. We spent John’s birthday eating Kentucky Fried Chicken in a musty motel room while the winds of Hurricane David blew rainwater under our door.

That experience did nothing to discourage us from returning to Pawleys Island. For many years after that, we returned with our children and summer vacations at Pawleys became a tradition until the children gave us grandchildren and we could no longer find a house big enough to hold us. I treasure those days and still smile every time we tell the story of our that first trip.

Fast-forward forty years…

Our children are grown and scattered across the country. Helen and I spend much of our retirement traveling in our RV. John and Debbie, two hard-working professionals, remain beach lovers and now own a lovely vacation home in one of South Carolina’s premier beachside communities which they have shared with us many times. Our schedules and time with our families don’t allow us as much time to get together as we once did, but when they invited us down for Labor Day weekend, they didn’t have to ask twice. We would also celebrate John’s 70^th birthday.

The invitation was an opportunity to visit our son and his family in Charleston, and there is no way we can pass up time and hugs with our grandchildren. Coincidentally, our son would also celebrate a birthday this month and Helen teamed up with the girls to bake a cake for him. Charleston was experiencing King Tide at this time so, while the cake baked, we sat on the dock behind the house and watched the tide fill the marsh. The still water gave no clue that another hurricane was in our future.

We arrived at the resort on Friday before Labor Day. John and Debbie’s oldest son and his family joined us for the weekend.  John made reservations at the Royal Tern, a restaurant near Charleston operated by the son of a friend and fraternity brother of ours from college days. It turned out that our friend, Jack was in the restaurant that night and we were able to catch up over an awesome seafood dinner, topped off by an amazing 30-layer tiramisu that was almost too pretty to eat.

The next day, a clear sky remained overhead and we spent a delightful day at the beach and the pool. Hurricane warnings filled the news but we chose to ignore them, thinking that there was no way that history would repeat itself.

Nevertheless, you can’t mess with Mother Nature. After leaving the Bahamas, Hurricane Dorian turned westward and was predicted to parallel the east coast and cut short another vacation.

We weren’t deterred however from a birthday celebration that evening as we gathered at a local spot for an incredible seafood dinner that was as good as any I’ve ever had. At the end of our meal, a surprise dessert arrived for John and we had the pleasure of embarrassing him with a loud rendition of Happy Birthday to the delight of restaurant patrons. Our meal contrasted sharply with the Kentucky Fried Chicken of forty years ago, and gave us one more good laugh.

Sunday, a looming hurricane gave us a rainy day on the coast.  We helped John and Debbie pack a few things away for safekeeping and said our goodbyes.  The South Carolina governor had converted all of the interstate lanes away from the coast and there was a rush to evacuate. We joined the long line of Labor Day traffic and sped away with no regrets.  Not even another hurricane can spoil friendship and fun.

We’re blessed and we’re still Easin’ Along.