The Wedding(s) Blog #4 (A Snake, A Beaver & An Old Favorite)

     Our 2018 Wedding(s) Road Trip has begun. In fact, one wedding is already in the books. I'll have much more on that coming up. But first, how we got here is one part fun, one part, tiring and one part potentially life changing. I'll start with the latter of the three.

     Before we ever got out of Snyder, America, in fact the night before we left west Texas, we had possibly one of the top five worst things that can happen inside a house.
     I was already in bed. Teresa was turning off some lights. My house were closed. Then this is what happened....

     "Bill! There's a SNAKE!!!"
     "What? Where?"
     "IN THE HOUSE."

     Yep. Enough said. I didn't see it. T said it was the diameter of her thumb and the length of her forearm. It disappeared under the refrigerator. We slept on the couch at the ranch that night. Suffice it to say, we didn't exactly rest too easily that last night before blast off for the weddings.

     The abbreviated version of the road trip is: Two cars, nephew's wedding in Baton Rouge, son's wedding later in Nashville, first night Shreveport, next few nights New Orleans & then on the road to Nashville.

     The drive from Snyder to Shreveport was nothing out of the ordinary. We made it through the metroplex, got to Shreveport, stayed the night & left for New Orleans. Besides the SNAKE scare, the meat of this blog began Thursday morning.

     First stop, the home of maybe the most famous beaver I know... Buc-ee's in Terrell, Texas about 45 minutes east of Dallas.

      Next stop after overnighting in Shreveport, Lea's Lunchroom in LaCompte, LA. Growing up in Baton Rouge, driving to Lea's for their pies was apparently commonplace. Personally, I never did it but I can't count how many times friends would say "mommas going to Leas for pies."

Lea's Lunchroom/LaCompte, La

     About 10-miles off Interstate 55, LaCompte is a lot like most little towns in Anywhere, USA. The city's named after a quasi-famous Bayou State racehorse, but it's famous for Lea's and their pies.
     So when in Rome... We ate pie. We bought Pie. We browsed and we got back on the road.
     Now after all those years, I understand why all those 'mommas' drove from Baton Rouge to LaCompte.


    We didn't eat lunch at Lea's because we were bound for Baton Rouge and one of my long ago favorite places for lunch.

George's/Baton Rouge

          A lot of things have changed, most things have changed since my Baton Rouge/South Louisiana days, but not George's. It's under I-10 on Perkins Road, you still can't find a place to park, and it's still a grungy, dark place with arguably the worst restrooms in town. But without question, George's still serves a fantastic cheeseburger with a single order of fries or onion rings that's enough to feed four and still have leftovers.
     The inside is kind of pie shaped. The bar's packed with eaters and drinkers. The little tables seat two, but regularly accommodate four or five or even six.
     There are no waiters, just bartenders and cooks. You write your own order get your own drink (non alcoholic,) and stack your empty plates but it's worth every penny. And that's practically what you paid, because it's still cheap, cheap, cheap!
     So by 1:30 on this day, we'd had pie, burgers, fries and onion rings.... in that order. Oh yeah, we had a giant but only mediocre breakfast at our Shreveport hotel.

      We got out B.R. much easier and quicker than we got into B.R. By 5:00pm, we were checked-in to our home away from home in New Orleans (NOLA.) We didn't have too many hiccups in that leg of the drive, but like getting around any real city at rush hour, it wasn't quick or easy.

     Next time, Fun in The Big Easy, Karaoke Cab and Wedding #1 at The White Oak Plantation.

Weddings Blog #3 (Africanized Bees)

     Our Wedding(s) Road Trip 2018 is one day closer, but first how about a not so accidental dangerous dose of battling Africanized bees? It's not so accidental because we brought in professionals to deal with the colony/hive or whatever the poisonous pests call themselves.

      I was zoomed in taking this video from about 50-feet away when less than a few seconds after I hit STOP.... Zap, Bang, Zing.... OUCH! I got stung on the back of the leg. Then, I felt something moving in my hair. That's when I took off for cover in the ranch Big House. Long story short is, I ended my three prong cleaning of Shop-Vac, Dry Swiffer and Wet Swiffer in my underwear and flip flops because I felt more unfamiliar movement in my clothes.

Ryno Pest Control

    Our battle of the bees has been a long time coming. I figured it wouldn't be easy. I didn't figure it'd be so dangerous.
      The fellas in the white suits are Ryan and Cody from Ryno Pest Control in Snyder. They told me that they're wearing white because bees can't see white. This was their first bee call of the season.
       Once they had all their gear on and their equipment up to speed, they quickly went to work. I stood inside taking pictures until the powdered fog they use began coming through the cracks in the building. That's when I thought it'd be a good idea to take pictures from outside the building.

Ryno Pest Control

      So here we are, thinking we're getting all our ducks in a row to go on this 2,200 mile road trip for Zach's wedding and then Jack's wedding and I've got two guys dressed in space gear with tools that look like "Dirt Devils" outside our ranch window.

      At this point, I'm really thinking this is no big deal. These guys will do their thing and we'll be good to go.... good to go on with our 'Caravan of Joy' to Baton Rouge and then Nashville.

     Oh my, I was wrong. The bees covered these guys like the time I wore too much after shave to a golf tournament in Ottumwa, Iowa. I was like "Pig Pen" from THE PEANUTS.

     Earlier, I wrote I escaped to the ranch "Big House." It wasn't long after that, I looked out the front door and spotted the pest control professionals speeding off to the east. Even they had had enough! We texted. It looked like this.. 

Ryan & I Texting Minutes after the Fog

     I'm inside.. practically naked, but feeling pretty safe until the professional tells me he's about to turn around to check on me.

     About this time, I thought... "Okay, stay naked and stay inside."

     

     True to his word, Ryan did come back and still in full gear. I stuck my head out the door.

      "Where are your keys? In your truck,?" he asked.

      "Yeah. Whatcha gonna do?"

      "I'm gonna move it closer so you can get out."

      "I'll be okay."

      "You might think about that."

      "Okay. Will ya move it here?"

       The old red truck got moved. Ryan and Cody left. I continued cleaning in my skivvies and eventually and very quietly made my way back to my truck.

       All the while, Teresa's back at home. I'm telling her not to come over to the ranch because it's not safe. I'm literally whispering to myself all the while trying to grab anything we might need. Then bless her heart, Teresa asks a few favors... like...

Teresa & I Texting Today

     

     I'm dressed at this point. I've finished my three prong cleaning (Shop-Vac, Dry Swiffer & Wet Swiffer) of both the Big and Little Houses. I'm planning/hoping to quietly sneak into my truck, which has been moved by the professional away from the seriously dangerous and poisonous Africanized bees and then.... 'Bring my purse, the book (an autobiography of Katherine Graham) and the phone charger.'

      I've got these deadly bees within feet of me. I've got a burning sting on my leg... but by golly... we do indeed need our phone chargers.

      So as quietly as a church mouse, I get out. I close my door like I used to do when I was sneaking out of the house in high school. I watch where I'm stepping so as not to break a twig. I enter the pavilion. I think I'm holding my breath. I unplug the phone charger which has a pane of glass separating me from the killer bees. I retreat back to the old red truck. I close the door like when I was returning from sneaking out in high school and I hit the gas!!!

     By gosh, our phones are damn sure charged at this writing.

     The unexpected chaos is now over. We're back at the ranch at this writing. We're practically done with all our 'expected' chores before leaving for Wedding(s) Road Trip 2018. Now, it's time to clean the toilets. 

Bill Robertson, I had a dream about snakes last night. If they show up, I'm gonna blast 'em.

 

     

The Wedding(s) Blog #2 (Shop-Vacs, Swiffers & Sneaky Mice)

Baton Rouge to Nashville

     Our wedding(s) road trip 2018 is around the corner. We're now counting the hours more than counting the days.

 

Snyder to Baton Rouge

      To review; My nephew Zach is marrying Nadia in Baton Rouge. Then, my son Jack is marrying Allison less than two weeks later in Nashville.
     Teresa, my sister Julia, mom and I are taking two cars and traveling to each before returning to Snyder.
     I put pencil to paper. According to my math, we'll cover about 2,200 miles of interstate and asphalt in our big circle that'll take us east out of Texas, south through Louisiana, then north through a minimal amount of Mississippi, a lot of Alabama, up and across in Tennessee, southeast through the rough roads of Arkansas and then west, back across Texas.

     So with time running out before we blast off, we're still wrapping up some loose ends, putting ducks in a row, pushing rope uphill and herding cats. We've conquered the multitude of 'little things.' Now, we're tackling the bigger, more sweat worthy tasks.

     That means we're cleaning house. I don't know about you, but T and I do not like to come home from anywhere at anytime to a dirty house. It's a great philosophy until it actually comes time to clean one's house... but we're up to the task and we are armed with a collection of cleaners... and presented with a couple of surprises.

My Tool of Choice

     My tool of choice is our Shop-Vac. I call it our most helpful but cumbersome domestic engineering device. It'll suck up everything but moving around furniture, across rugs, around corners tests my patience.
     If the cord's not long enough, then the extension cord gets trapped. It's like the sucker hose has a mind of its own. It has wheels, but they might as well be blocks. And, if you're trying to pull it behind you... you better go in a straight line and make only right angle turns. Otherwise, it gets stopped by the tiniest of corners and curves. Still, the Shop-Vac's my go to in my three prong attack on west Texas dirt.

Pistachios in the Couch

        
      My job is taking care of the floors, wiping down the furniture... the big stuff. Sometimes, that includes running across a few surprises like we did this morning.
      Teresa said, "Ewww, that couch needs a good dusting."
      So, I went to work with Huggies Baby Wipes... the best dusting tool ever!
      Within seconds I asked, "Who's been eating pistachios on the couch?" I was both surprised and really surprised. First, I love pistachios. But they're expensive so I'd never waste so many. Secondly, I haven't bought any in a long time.
       "What," Teresa asked because neither one of us can hear squat.
       "Who's been eating pistachios on the couch?"
       "The mouse."
       "What," I asked because like I said... neither one of us can hear squat.

      What's really kinda sad about this whole conversation is that neither of us was particularly alarmed that a mouse was hording pistachios in our couch. And maybe even more sad is, neither of us ever noticed a pistachio eating mouse in our house. I did wonder long ago,,, "where are all my pistachios." Suffice it to say, my Shop-Vac took care of the mystery nuts and we probably have one very hungry and angry mouse.    

     Teresa is Olive Oyl to my Bluto of house cleaning. She's the nook and cranny girl. Her tools of choice include just about everything on aisle 10 at our local grocery store.

Teresa's Cleaning Tools

     
     Each bottle, spray and wipe has a specific purpose. Earlier, I mentioned the value of Huggies wipes. Teresa's a firm believer in that a top shelf wipe is a top performer in the great game of dusting.
      Thanks to those sprays, bottles, wipes and more, dust is doomed at our house.
       You have to know I clean my ears by jabbing a cotton swab in my ear. Teresa meticulously twists a baby wipe and gently and deftly releases if not all, most of an adult woman's ear debris.
      And, that's the way she cleans house. While I on the other hand.... slam, bang and smash my way through the 'damnit, let's get this done in a couple hours' process.

Love me some Swiffer!

                                                         
     Another great tool of the trade is the Swiffer. I'm SWIFFER MAN! This stuff is like fire, the wheel and sliced bread. While T's dusting the sound holes in the telephone, I'm doing my best impersonation of a sailor swabbing the deck.
      First, the dry Swiffer to get up any dust missed by my trusty, but clumsy Shop-Vac. Then, the glorious, glossy wet Swiffer.
     By now, you probably figured that we're wood floors type of folks and the Swiffer is da' bom. It completes our three prong attack on the west Texas dirt that settles daily like plaque on teeth.

     Our next chores before take off range from talking to our banker to picking up my seersucker suit and Teresa's rehearsal dress from the cleaners, plus gobs of laundry. Meantime, DON'T WALK ON THE FLOOR!!!

Bill Robertson, I wonder where that mouse is now. He better not be eyeing my chips.

   




   

The Wedding(s) Blog #1 (Getting Ducks in a Row)

       Wedding season is in full swing and this year, Teresa and I are in full "I Do" mode. No, we're not renewing our vows. We're traveling approximately 2,200 miles for weddings in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and Nashville, Tennessee.

Jack and Allison

         The answer(s) to the obvious question(s) is/are: My nephew Zachary Richmond is marrying Nadia Kelley in Baton Rouge June 10th. Then, my son, Jack is marrying Allison Grant June 23rd in Nashville.

Nadia and Zach

        We thought there's no point driving all the way to Baton Rouge, driving back to Snyder and then driving all the way to Nashville and then back to Snyder. So, we're making a wedding(s) road trip. We'll be in one vehicle. My younger sister, Julia, and my mom, Marianne, will be in another vehicle. The jury's still out whether this road trip is a good idea. I'll keep you posted along the way.

     Right now, we're near the end of the 'getting our ducks in a row' phase of taking such a long road trip. There is light at the end of the tunnel, but no doubt about it.... it's been a tunnel.

     It's not like we just found out about these back to back weddings, separated by 589 miles (B-R to N'ville. The longest drive is from Snyder to just about anywhere.) We've known since this time last year. But as the weeks and days before leaving decreased, the 'what in the world' factor exponentially increased.

     We have our outfits, our new shoes, our bills paid and arrangements made to take care of things while are on the road. But getting to this point, cost a friggin' fortune!! I'm NOT complaining. I'm just addressing the Elephant in the Living Room. That's all I'm going to say on that subject.

     We had to do a lot of out of town shopping. Sorry Snyder, but that's the curse of a small town. I probably shouldn't list our itinerary for security reasons. But thankfully, we live in Snyder. That's the blessing of a small town. 

      We blast off 'caravan style' for a two day drive to Baton Rouge, the city where my brother, sisters and I grew up. Only my older sister, Laura, stayed in the area to raise her family. Now, it's her oldest getting married. 

     The service will be at White Oak Plantation, between B-R and New Orleans but closer to Baton Rouge. I think we're all hoping for an inside event considering south Louisiana between February and December is usually like a sauna set on 'miserable.'

     

     From Baton Rouge, we're on the road to Nashville. Julia and mom have a slight detour planned while Teresa and I hope to be in Music City in time to help with any last minute errands leading up to the big day.

      This service will be at Allison's home church followed by a reception in downtown Nashville.  I'm told the reception includes a mashed potato bar. By this point, I hope a real bar is pretty close.

      Stay tuned. 

Bill Robertson, Father and Uncle of the groom(s).

                                       

     
     

   

     Is it just me or has anyone else noticed there are certain things that are going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible..... Or, nearly the worst time possible?
     Usually, it's man-made stuff that goes on the fritz at the worst time. But sometimes, it can be other things too... but in my experience, it's usually the man-made stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a conspiracy.

     For this post's purposes, I have a personal example, a friend's example and a third example that affects more people than you might think in this part of the world.

May in Snyder

   
     Take one look at the picture on the left. Snyder at 72. No big deal. But then look at the high temps for the rest of the week.
     I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count as to what man-made device is NOT working very well at our house.

     You guessed it. Our air conditioning's struggling and not doing a very good job at that!
      Our situation I think is a perfect example of my lead sentence.... Has anyone else noticed there are certain things that are going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible.

     Thank goodness for fans and A LOT of deodorant!

   

Memorial Day Water Leak

         The next example of bad luck, poor timing and a general pain in the fanny situation comes via a friend. We passed by his office today and spotted his truck.
        Our brief text conversation sums up the surprise and unwelcome situation.

Our Text Talk

     This is perfect instance of 'if something completely unexpected and most certainly unwanted' is going to happen somehow it seems to happen at the worst time possible.
     
     Ben and Rod, who are referenced in this text, aren't holiday workers. They pull plenty of long hours more than their fair share days of the year to take off on the holidays.

      And I know everyone included in this water leak fiasco is a family person and at least two or more have incredible appetites for good beef.
     
     So on this holiday, that so many use as a 'family grilling get together' opportunity, this water leak would definitely qualify for the bad timing, rotten luck, really frustrating type of  unexpected and unwanted interruption.

     There is one more example of a bad timing, rotten luck interruption that's not man-made, but affects so many in west Texas.
       It's the call from the sheriff's office that sounds something like the following:

The Dreaded Cow Call

       The phone rings. The caller I-D shows SCSO.
 
       "Hello."
       "Mr. Robertson?"
       "Yes." Of course, anytime anyone calls me Mister or William it's not going to end well.
       "This is Deputy Jones with the Scurry County Sheriff's Office. You have cows out."
       It's not a question. It's a statement.
       "I do? Where? How many?"

      You get the point. The call's completely unexpected and usually at the wrong time. I can't think of a single time that we got that call that it wasn't at the very least inconvenient if not absolutely the worst timing possible.

     Cows are funny. They don't get through a fence Monday through Friday during regular business hours. And when they get out at night, not only are they usually Black Angus cows, they usually escape their pastoral prison with superior bad timing.

      Once, I got the SCSO call while we were hosting a Christmas dinner party for 75 people. I left, got the cow back in the pasture and fixed the fence before dessert.
      Another time, a big red bull got out and dodged capture for about an hour in a driving rain and hail storm.

     So, the question; why are certain things going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible issue crosses the man-made vs. natural line. I suppose we can't do anything about it other than acknowledge the issue with a rhetorical question. Of course, why wouldn't you break or get out at any other time.?

Bill Robertson, Once my water froze when I had a house full of company expecting/hoping for their morning showers.
   

Mother's Day: Flower Power & County Roads

     There are a lot of good things in life, but one of the GREAT things is putting a smile on someone's face. T & I owe a giant debt to our friends Theresa and Rodney Dupree who own and operate The Blossom Bucket in Snyder. For the second year, they asked us to help deliver flowers for Mother's Day.  Mother's Day isn't their Super Bowl, but it's darn close.

Rodney & Theresa Dupree

     Mother's Day of course is on a Sunday. It's always on a Sunday. In a bit, I'll explain the "dumbass charge" I think Rod & Theresa should implement. But first, more about our day(s) of delivering in the "Bucket."

"The Bucket"

     Our delivering began on the Wednesday before Mother's Day. We're veterans so we get assigned the "Bucket," very possibly the roughest riding mode of transportation since the covered wagon. I mean if we hit a pebble, it sounded like a gunshot. If we were in a big city, I'd think someone was trying to 'pop a cap' in us. Still, the "Bucket" is fast and very well air conditioned.
     The way it works is: Customers call or come in to place their orders. We literally walk in and out the back door and very rarely venture beyond the backroom.

Flower Power Team

      The 'middle' room looks like the picture to the right. Theresa and a team of flower artists have a station. They have more knives, scissors and assorted trimming tools than Meredith Grey.
     Rodney generally takes all the orders and somehow the paperwork gets to a station and then VIOLA! Theresa and the flower artists knock out dozens and dozens of arrangements.      We simply walk in, pick 'em up and head off in the "Bucket."
     The turnaround's usually pretty darn quick. We walk in and we walk out with usually four to eight deliveries per trip,,,, depending on where we're going. And where we're going can many times prove very interesting.

Ready for Delivery

     Theresa (Dupree) has a sweet policy. They'll deliver only within the city limits for Valentine's Day, but county wide for Mother's Day. Theresa's reason is simple. Too many moms live in the county and simply can't drive into town to pick up their yellow, purple, red or rose' arrangement. So, we, the deliverers, put some serious mileage on the "Bucket."
      Granted Snyder's a small town and Scurry county's sparsely populated, but.... that doesn't mean we know where we're going all the time.
       If a delivery's in town, Teresa (Robertson) usually knows the people because most times she taught them or their children in the fifth grade. If the delivery's out in the county, that's where Rodney is Mr. Direction. I suspect he's never, ever been lost in Scurry county. If you ever need directions, give him a call. His cell is 555-Not-Lost.

She Love Me

     I think it's safe to say that I see more of Scurry County when we're delivering for The Blossom Bucket than I see at any other time of the year.
      By now, maybe you've seen my Facebook post of my pretty cow. I've decided to call her Gladys.
      We came across Gladys, and I mean really came across Gladys because she wouldn't get out of the driveway, while delivering to a home north of Snyder.... pretty far north.
      Gladys finally moved and gave me this come hither look as we were leaving. You can't really tell from my picture, but Gladys is quite 'with child.' I wonder if Gladys was giving me a 'what about me' kind of look.
      Not all deliveries are a jump out, drop-off and get back in the "Bucket" scenario.

Rodney in the "Bucket"

     Rodney and Theresa can't turn down other business. In this weekend's case, they had all the Mother's Day deliveries and two funerals.
     Funerals come with big arrangements. Usually, we can drop the roses, violas, irises in a styrofoam holder in the back of the van.  But when it comes to the big stuff, that calls for a Plan B & that's when Rodney becomes "Cargo Man."
      In the picture, Rodney is bracing about four large arrangements plus the three or four other arrangements braced on tripods. I'm just glad he chose to ride in the back and didn't ask me to hold everything while he drove.
     The funny thing is, the whole while we were delivering with Rodney holding on for dear life, we were talking politics, the future of Snyder and telling stories. Then, he rode back to the shop in the back. His fanny had to hurt.
      Now to my "dumbass" suggestion.  President Woodrow Wilson signed a proclamation in 1914 making Mother's Day the second Sunday in May.  My math is bad, but I think that was 104 years ago that Mother's Day has been held on the second Sunday in May. 104 years!!!
      But..... and this is big..... You'd be surprised by the volume of people (not only men,) who wait til the last few hours to buy anything for Mother's Day.
     So, I suggested a "dumbass" fee to Rodney and Theresa. Of course, they'd never do it, but here's how I see it happening.

     It's the Friday afternoon or later before Mother's Day Sunday and a customer walks into The Blossom Bucket or really any other flower shop. The conversation might look like this....

     "Hi! Can we help you?" asks the business owner.
     "Uh... yeah. I need something for Mother's Day."
     "Okay. Great. We can help you. We have this, this and this."
     "Uh, how much are these?"
     "$49.99 and we can deliver them if you'd like."
     "Ok. I'll take them and yes. I'd like them delivered."
     "Great. That'll be $84.99."
     "Uh... ok... I thought you said $49.99. Is it extra for delivery?"
     "I did and no. We charge a $25 dollar dumbass fee."
     "What?"
     "Yeah. This isn't the first Mother's Day. In fact Mother's Day has been around on the same weekend for 104 years."
     "So, you're charging me for waiting til the last minute?"
     "Yes because you're a dumbass."
     "Okay. I'll take 'em. Can I borrow a pen to fill out the card?"

     Theresa and Rodney would never do this. In fact, they let us leave around 6:00 pm on the Saturday before Mother's Day. But I'm pretty sure they fired up the "Bucket" to make some late deliveries. That's how they roll. They know that the flower arrangement is $49.99, but the smile is worth a MILLION DOLLARS.

     Good job. FLOWER POWER!!

Bill Robertson, Just because people say they live in Hermleigh--they really don't.

Graduation, Late Bartenders and an Active Shooter

     We came to Tennessee for my baby boy's college graduation, but first we got freakishly close to an active shooting scenario.

     The easiest way to tell this story is in chronological order, but to address the lead sentence... There was a deadly active shooter situation at the Opry Mills Mall in Nashville, less than half a mile from our accommodations and in the exact location where we were walking less than 28 hours ago.

     Here's how we got to this point. Teresa and I are in Tennessee for my youngest son, Joe's, college graduation from Tennessee Tech University. For the first time in many times to visit, we flew. We had a 5:50am flight out of Lubbock through Dallas Love Field to Nashville.

     We decided to spend the night in Lubbock before our flight. I'm cheap. So we picked the lowest priced full service hotel. Big mistake! Suffice it to say, the lost reservation, the overly cheery check-in lady and then the late bartender were NOT a good start to our expedition to Tennessee.
      Things improved with a great Club Sandwich and perfect onion rings, but when they didn't give us our wake-up call and we found leftover coffee and coffee grounds in our in-room coffee maker the next morning... that pretty much crossed them off our list for any future visits.

     We flew Southwest. I pretty much closed my eyes till we landed in Nashville. But everything was fine. We rented a car. It's a 2019 Jeep Cherokee and for whatever reason it turns itself off at every stop. The car's great, but that turning off to presumably save fuel's gotta go!

     Fast forward to our connection to this shooting at Nashville's Opry Mills Mall. Just yesterday, we had lunch at Chuey's and then took a walk inside the mall while waiting for our room to be ready.
     We walked by the exact location of the shooting. We even pointed out to ourselves the exact stores where the shooting happened.... Old Navy and Annie's Pretzels.

     Okay if you've read this far and want to know more, here are some more precise details and conversations that we experienced within the last couple hours.
     The day began with a short drive from Nashville to Cookeville for lunch with Joe and his longtime girlfriend Sharon. Great visit. Not so good lunch. The lesson is and probably has been for many years is: Don't expect much when your college aged child recommends any place for a meal.

     Our drive back to Nashville was uneventful until our exit. First, there was a road sign saying "Exit 11 North closed at Briley Pkwy." Then, cop car after cop car after cop car. All with their sirens blaring. I didn't know where Exit 11 was but we were headed that way.

     As it just so happened, T wanted to get her toes done. I wanted to stop at the grocery store for supper tonight with Jack back at our accommodations. T got into "Snappy Nails." I parked and walked toward the next door grocery store.

     While I'm smoking outside, as I can't smoke in the car that kills itself at every stop, I notice a young couple pacing outside the store.
     "Sir," I heard a thickly accented man's voice say.
     "Sir."
     I can tell from his accent he's from out of town. The young woman with him isn't saying anything. She's just kind of hanging out behind him.
      "Sir, can I have a cigarette? She's upset."
      "Uh, yeah."
      "Got a light?"
      I gave him my lighter. He fired up while the woman still hung back. His accent was thick but understandable. He was dark skinned with dark hair. She was light skinned but not in an American, freckled kind of way. She also wore a lot of jewelry including a Star of David around her neck.
      "We just ran and got a ride to here."
      "What?"
      "We ran from the shooting at the mall."
      "You were there?"
      "Yes, we left everything. My wallet, my keys, everything."
      "What happened."
      "It was gang related. There were only three shots. It wasn't terrorism. We're from Israel."
      "You know it wasn't terrorism because you're from Israel."
      "Yes, we've had experience with terrorism."
      "You work at the mall?"
      "Yes."
       "Where, at one of the kiosks? What do you sell?"
      "Flat irons."

     I gave the man a couple more cigarettes and went into the store. By this time, the mall shooting's big news inside. Meantime, I can hear the sirens still blaring even through the closed, sliding doors.

      Time passed as I wondered the aisles waiting for T as "Snappy Nail." After that, the trick was (and still is) getting back to our accommodations. At this writing, Exit 11's still closed. The road to our place is blocked by police cruisers. The good news for us was/is, we found a back way to our room. But even getting into our compound, we had to prove our identity to security. In fact, Jack was supposed to come over for supper but due to the chaos we've decided it's better that we re-schedule for another day.

      Although the situation's much calmer now, the hard truth is a 22 year old is dead and another 22 year old is in police custody.

Bill Robertson