Come to think of it, this one could have been titled "Throwing horseshoes at the moon".
Today's Advocate obituaries, triggered a flashback of sorts for me. I noted the passing of one James Rudd from Seadrift. Rest in peace Mr. Rudd. He's in my dad's class - Born in the East Texas woods - a refinery retiree - lived all his life in Texas, save for the service and Korea. Good man, and father to a friend of mine, Lynda Amason wife of an old dear friend Paul, another colorful character to be sure. Someday, when I'm sure the statute of limitations have all expired, there will be stories here or somewhere, of my times with Paul........ But back to Jimmy Rudd, a couple of incidents come to mind, but one of which is etched in my mind kind of like when I was at the Fannin Jr. High Auditorium, assembled to listen to radio coverage of the Kennedy(John) assassination. First, I do remember a night shortly after I had gotten my driver's license and was tooling around like a human yoyo on wheels, from one end of town to the other, looking for girls that weren't there, or burning rubber in my dad's old turquoise '60 Ford Galaxie, to impress my friends. On one of the loops, I noticed a ruckus outside Skinny's beer joint. Seems old Jimmy and my dad weren't seeing eye to eye on the outcome of a game of moon or forty two, or shuffleboard or who knows what, and had taken it to the parking lot for further review. Mostly what went on was a lot of chest beating and neck hairs standing up on the both of them. It went on I guess, until the last couple of Jax or Falstaffs wore down to the point that they either resolved it or just agreed to disagree. I doubt either of them ever knew I was pulled over, watching the whole silly fuss.

But the other time was one of those moments a lot of us will relate to. Might have been the last time I saw Mr. Rudd, come to think of it. I sat, gathered around an old TV, with Mr. & Mrs. Rudd and Paul, Lynda, Jimmy, Mike and Gayle, watching in awe on July 20, 1969, as Neil Armstrong stepped from the lunar lander, onto the surface of the moon.......or onto a soundstage somewhere in the high desert in Area 51, depending on who you believe, huh?

Jimmy, I might not be there to see you off tomorrow, but I promise you'll be on my list of folks to visit when I make my sojourns on my bicycle out to the quiet little green patch out on Cemetery Road to talk to my old friends.
R.I.P.,
M.A.