http://jobsearch.usajobs.gov/search.aspx?q=BPA+10-1&where=&brd=3876&vw=b&FedEmp=N&FedPub=Y&x=90&y=16

Jones County, Mississippi has a low unemployment rate, around 8.9%.  There are jobs available here too. It’s a good place to live. Still, a Government Job seems appealing at the wage earner level, not so much administration.

A Government Job came to my attention today, and it seems a good one.  Read about it below:

 Dear Community Leader,

 I would like to take this opportunity to share with you and your organization career opportunities now available with the Department of Homeland Security’s border security agency, U.S. Customs and Border Protection (CBP).   

We are actively hiring Border Patrol Agents to serve and protect our nation’s borders against terrorism and illegal immigration.  As the largest uniformed law enforcement agency in the country, we are fully committed to recruiting a highly diverse workforce in support of CBP’s mission.   

The vacancy announcement will remain open from July 14 to September 30, 2010, or on the day that the first 100,000 eligible applications are received.   We ask you to distribute this information to your membership or constituents and recommend that applicants register and test as soon as possible in order to receive early consideration. 

How to apply:

 Apply online at the federal jobs website at www.USAjobs.gov or go directly to the Border Patrol Agent vacancy announcement at the following link: 

 Four things a Border Patrol recruit can expect:

1.                                          Border Patrol recruits earn between $38,000 and $49,000 in their first year, with the potential of earning up to $70,000 per year within three years of service.

2.                                          Benefits include federal health insurance, life insurance and retirement, and up to 25 percent additional pay in overtime opportunities.

3.                                          Paid training is provided.

4.                                          Border Patrol Agent positions are located in the Southwest border states (Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, or California).

We are highly interested in providing your organization with this great opportunity as we strengthen our workforce and our ability to protect this country.   We look forward to your support by encouraging your members to explore the possibly of a career as a Border Patrol Agent. 

 For additional information about this agency and other CBP career opportunities, please visit our website at www.cbp.gov.

 Sincerely,

I think that was a sincere letter.  Our government must need border patrol people, all kinds, no discrimination whatsoever. Being 62, perhaps a career change would be fun and I good idea, especially for the Gov’t Health Insurance? There is a lot of talk about that these days.

Imagine one like this…..living in beautiful New Mexico down near the border where the cactus grow tall. Every day, driving around looking for Aliens, remember NM has all kinds and I love SciFi. 

So many chances to see the desert flora and fauna.  A springtime job would really be perfect.  My Holly would love making really good tacos and burritos with green chili sauce just for me, the Boreder Patrol man.  Not many people know much about a doyenne of American painting and a leader, Georgia O’Keeffe, who with her husband, Alfred Stieglitz, lived nearby in some lost valley. There must be more such lost places, maybe even ones that attract ALIENS. I could work from home. Holy cow, it coming together. 

Chris the BP man.  I even dreamed up a hot logo.

Wanna come along?

Some years ago the itch to travel Downunder found its way into this old folk singer’s “swag”.  The Guitar Case, long been replaced with a Golf bag, the entire itch was scratched to a bleed by an Aussie, with whom friendship came easy.  Met him in Ireland one morning playing Royal Port Rush. The connection he and his traveling buddy with me and mine built fast was founded in the golfer’s test of character, “don’t tee it up in the rough, add ‘em all up, go to the next  hole, and drink together a pint when it’s over”.

As for the reason to go play golf in Australia in particular, check out this Golf Blog, well placed online by some fellow peripatetic’ing his way around the planet playing the world’s best 100 courses. It is well done, and clearly indicates to one who loves true linksland golf why Downunder is absolutely a place one must chase the dimpled ball.

 http://top100golf.blogspot.com/

 This website is proof that, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the decision I made four years ago to ABSOLUTELY go Downunder for golf was the correct one.  Quite frankly, the travelogue “In A SunBurned Country” took the vision beyond golf.

It has taken some time to arrange business commitment dates and assuage my strong desire to be home most every night with my Bride of a few years to be free of guilt about the long holiday. After 38 years of building a Commercial Real Estate business in Laurel, Mississippi, and holding a family close while doing it, it’s hard to just take off.  Yet the “Swagman” within me lives on.  I am very lucky that She keeps the light on.

I bet you don’t realize just how BIG Australia really is.  Well, it’s big, bigger than the lower 48. It’s also empty, parts still unexplored, almost.  97% of the people live within 30 miles of the sea. All that came from details gleaned from the Travelogue mentioned above.  It made me wonder where else Downunder the dusty roads might lead me.  Having convinced myself that the tour was appropriate, it seems reasonable to stretch out and enlarge the “golfabout” into a “walkabout”.  

For the next few months the trip will be planned.  A C Clark’s script dialogue on the last “Space Odyssey” movie is a favorite quote that spurs me on some days. Dave asked “What’s gonna happen?”  The PC replied, “Something wonderful.”  

A bit ago, a dedicated County Supervisor’s newsletter mentioned that his County Budget included a significant amount of money for Mosquito control.  He suggested that all the citizens of his Beat patrol their yards and neighborhoods and turn over any container that held water so as to help keep down proliferation of the terrible pests.  I hope they acted on his suggestion.  Not only will expenses in his Beat decrease, but perhaps we’ll have fewer cases of plagues and fevers than in years past.  I was reminded of a man, his mule, and his big heart. He was once my neighbor, Mr. Ollie Deloach. 

Upon coming back to Laurel in 1974, I moved out on Bush Dairy Road to a place my Dad left me.  It was a cabin about ½ mile off the road down a little road named Standing Red, a Choctaw Indian name for Tallahoma.  An elderly gentleman who had for many, many years been close to my father came calling.  His name was Mr. Ollie Deloach, and I had known him since I was a little boy.  Uncle Ollie, as he had always told me to address him, was so kind, always smiling through his long, white, unkempt beard.  So clear to me now are the eyes sparkling under that hat, dusty around the crooked brim.

That day I was digging a small garden in the yard, and he insisted upon going home and coming back with his mule to properly plow the vegetable patch.  He did, and in the end there lay eight perfect, straight rows.  I tried plowing, failed beyond imagination.  His skill was more than strength, it was creative and kind, more about partnering with the mule, his friend and collaborator.

Anyway, Uncle Ollie lived across the road on a hill top on Section 16 School land.  His home, set 200 feet, or so, off the gravel trail that wound up the hill past his little church, was of unpainted wood siding built some 3 feet off the ground on sandstone piers.  This front yard was littered (wait not littered, covered) with junk, well, junk to me.  There were old plumbing fixtures, bicycles, lamps, household appliances, used vehicle tires, old lawn mowers, on and on was just more ‘stuff’.  This was all his stuff, and his stuff was set aside to fix other stuff around the neighborhood.  Some child’s bicycle sprocket would break, and Uncle Ollie would find and install the replacement after searching the yard for a matching one.  Mrs. Barnett’s washing machine would quit, and here would come Uncle Ollie with some tools and a few parts sure the make the fix. His big ole fingers, a screw driver and a pair of pliers made many neighbors smile when got finished.

Twisting through this “parts warehouse” of stuff was a little dusty foot path worn smooth by his bare feet. Oh, I left out the part about his usually being barefoot.  That garden day, he plowed barefoot.  I later had the notion that it was to feel the cool, fresh dirt; some unnoticed sense assuring him that the rows were up to the standards demanded by his partner.  Regardless, midway along the path, there was a widening, a round-about, and in the center was a 55 gallon drum open at the top.  

One day early that summer, much like today, I took some new potatoes that I had dug with a fork from the garden that he had given me. I drove my VW up the hill to his house and stepped out at the entrance to the little path.  There in the widening, acrid smoke, thick and black rose from the drum.  In the drum was burning tire rubber.  Sitting on a stool before the drum was Uncle Ollie hard at work on some project or another. Down the path I went and was invited to have a seat. There we sat talking over times, mules, gardens, weather, and projects; and new potatoes.  No mosquitoes, no flies, no gnats anywhere in sight.

Ok, so the cure might have been worse than the disease.  Still, the picture of that wonderful man hard at work, surrounded by his stuff and so full of good will and good friendship, will never fade away.  Thank goodness that the tire smoke did.  I have said here before, “Some people never die”. They are the ones who live snuggly in our hearts.  I know he lives on in the hearts of his children.  It’s in their eyes too.

By the way, did you know that the water you use to first boil new potatoes needs to be thrown out?  Uncle Ollie said it contained some stomach upset bug.  I don’t know if it is true, but I believe it. Do you?

 An old saying goes like this:  “If you look around your family, and you can’t find one who is crazy, then it’s you.”  Last week, I looked around, and we all were crazy- crazy happy.  We had a wonderful celebration upon the Graduation of our daughter and her husband, Brett Harris, from the Candler School of Divinity.  They were so happy.  So we all joined in -  a family dinner at the best Pizza Shop in Atlanta.  This place is crazy good.  “Antico”, a Pizza Napoletana.  Most of this Blog Edition will be a Picture Book of our Celebration.  The place was fantastic.  The Experience even better.

 Here is a happy daughter 

 Brett is happy too. 

Another graduate, Kerr, is happy- his bride Palmer indulges.  These two couples are close friends, and so K & P get included in our family.   

OK, so the Celebration began.  Don’t you love props?

We gathered around the Chef’s table, all grins and giggles.  Watch the video…..       What do you think?              miafamilia

We ordered Pizza specialties, the Pizza Master got to work.

 The master works his dough, builds a pie, and “prossimo godere”

 The 3 ovens at Antico reach 1000° F, and the pizza was ready in less than 2 minutes.  No wonder he can put out 750 in one night. Once they hit the table, there is not even enough time to take a picture, besides, my fingers were good eats too.

The Pizza was so good.  The ingredients all authentic, straight from Italy. The flour sacks, the cans of peppers, the oils.. all out to see.  We ate and we ate, the pizzas gone in minutes.  

I found the Chef taking a break, the building a bit clearer.  He joined us for a glass of Celebration, and began to talk about Naples and Pizza and dreams.  His hospitality was warm- thankful that we were happy in his Pizzeria.  The wine was rich and fun. 

 A Celebration……. Happy-Animated-Handy-Full

Some perhaps more than others…. 

 A video to prove         miafamilia1

End the end, the Host, the Chef, the Owner…..he was happy too.

What a great night of Celebration it was for a happy family at a rich table covered something really good to eat.

I ask again, “Who says Thanksgiving comes only in November?”

 

I liked my fishing buddy’s NO HURRY attitude.  He knew the fish were there, the place was beautiful, & the day perfect.  He was hoping that I would catch some.  He was more interested in my success than his.  It was a great present he was planning to give. 

It was only a moment before the boat slipped into the lake effortlessly. The morning calm with the water so smooth, one would think we glided upon a mirror with orange coming over the edge.  The sun, of course, was rising, and it lit that mirror, barely steaming with a mist from the warm water into the cool air.  Not clouded, just mysterious with a fish here, a turtle rolling there.  Quiet, truly quiet. 

Some fish wanted to bite, others not.  Truthfully, the joy was (in Einstein’s metaphysics) in the time and the space- to enjoy being there that morning.  

Spring is so wonderful.  The greatest part of the Easter story is to me about a celebration of new life.  That story was all around us and such was the fishing experience that morning.  Thanksgiving comes not only in November.

Oh, want to guess what’s on the menu at the Bullet Proof Cafe?

This past weekend, I drove up into the Mississippi Delta where I met my friend at his fine cabin along the levee.  Over the levee, there is some woodsland that crawls with wildlife.  The land involved is a strip of woods 40 acres wide (1/4 mile) by 2 miles deep reaching to the River. The River is high, having crested last week, so a boat was needed to cross a river chute to get to an area deep in the woods where there remains a huge stand of cottonwood and sycamore.

In the dark, the crossing was tense, suspicious noises from the water teeming with the creatures of the muddy water. The sky calming, so black, the stars reassuring in their constancy, a waning moon on the horizon. Life goes on in the night.

Springtime green, those colors particular to late March and April couldn’t be seen at 5 AM.  Around 5:30, from night quiet, a sudden awakening brought noises of all the life around me.  As I sat against a tree deep in the woods early Saturday morning alone with the noises, my eyes keen for movement, “The Awakening” was almost startling.  In one moment the day began, more reassurance that Life goes on.

It was not long before an owl hoot awoke a turkey, who decided to gobble his waddle off.  I just listened for a while, tried to call to him to get him close enough to see (I don’t shoot them); however, he went the other way, hearing a far more romantic prospect in that direction.  The sun brought the colors, oh, what colors.   My goodness, what a fine morning! 

Golf is a game of enigmas, dicotamys, contradictions, frustrations, rewards, failure, and above all honor.  Here are some fun ‘truisms’ for the days of our lives.

1 Never try to keep more than 300 separate thoughts in your mind during your swing.  

2 If you’re afraid a full shot might reach the green while the foursome ahead of you is still putting out, you have two options: you can immediately shank a lay-up or you can wait until the green is clear and top a ball halfway there.

3 The less skilled the player, the more likely he is to share his ideas about the golf swing.

4 No matter how bad you are playing, it is always possible to play worse.  

5 It is surprisingly easy to hole a thirty foot putt. For a 10.

6 Counting on your opponent to inform you when he breaks a rule is like expecting him to make fun of his own haircut.  

7 Nonchalant putts count the same as chalant putts

8 To calculate the speed of a player’s downswing, multiply the speed of his back-swing by his handicap; i.e., back-swing 20 mph, handicap 15, downswing = 300 mph.

9 One of my personal favorites:
There are two things you can learn by stopping your back-swing at the top and checking the position of your hands: how many hands you have, and which one is wearing the glove.

10 A good drive on the 18th hole has stopped many a golfer from giving up the game.

11 A good golf partner is one who’s always slightly worse than you are…. that’s why I get so many calls to play with friends. 

If you interpret these to fit your day, you’ll understand why the game is so amazing.  Ever tried it?

Great live popular music performed for those untrustable ones of us over 30 is alive & well in Mississippi.  It exists in Meridian lately.  A tall well dressed character wearing a Roy Rogers style cowboy hat named Jacky Jack White provides the opportunity in one of the great music venues left anywhere in Mississippi.  The show is called the “Sucarnochee Review” and is rooted in the agricultural region lying North and East of Meridian in the black lands of old Mississippi and Alabama. 

This past Friday night I took the hours drive to Meridian, first stopping out on MS Highway 19 North to grab a quick slice of the best Pizza in Mississippi.  Nick and Al’s Ny Style Pizzeria-.  It’s the place & offers a chance to taste someone’s grandfather’s recipes.

From there a quick ride down 8^th Street took me to the front door of the old Temple Theatre. 

Parking garage across the street was more expensive than the ticket to the show.  Yeah, it’s true.

The Temple is fantastic- original, tired, full of history.  So much detail in the building construction that in its day made the place spectacular. Some of the world’s great performers have worked there.   This Friday night, some others entertained a crowd of people, maybe 500, whose ages averaged somewhere around 60. Sit back and enjoy.

Think “Grand ole Opry”- Ten or so performers playing two tunes apiece. Another in the long line of Laurel’s great musicians was there performing with a partner in a duo known in Nashville circles as the Fedora Brothers.  Gene Bush can play.  He was the reason I was there in the first place. He played a strong muscled acoustic guitar and an acoustic dobro.  I could have listened to him and his partner all night.  Gene Bush is Dr. Eugene Bush’s oldest son.  A Laurel High graduate he maintains ties with home because his two brothers still live here.  CP and Phillip are friends for many years.

The rest of the show was gravy.  One guy played a favorite Jimmie Rogers tune so well.  His guitar style so clean, never a note was missed. His solo left him nowhere to hide.  He was out there one note at the time singing that  wide range tune without a hitch.  He was good.

The show was over around 9:30, plenty of time to run by Weidman’s, Meridian’s finest dining spot to climb upstairs to the bar and have the fun of hearing my good buddy, Ronnie Goss, play with a fine pickup rock band.

So far these Blogging efforts have not made much progress in the Music category.  A Passion for Music was included because through so much of my life, my mind is full of it, music that is.  The guitar became the instrument of choice when my mother, recognizing that there was music in me, purchased one for Christmas.  It did not take long for her to realize that I was committed to learning which resulted in my first plane ride.  My dear Aunt Leta picked me up at the airport in Memphis & took me immediately to Melody Music Store where I chose a Gibson J-50.  Oh, how it rang. 

My Aunt Leta was my Dad’s younger sister.  There were ten children in that family. As a side note and perhaps another story one day, their mother was a Knight, of the Jones County Knights.  Two were amazing musicians.  I bet others had it in them, but never had the drive to work at it. One has to work to gain the skills of Hilda and Sam.

Hilda- oh, how her fingers trilled the keyboard.  The danced, sometimes hammering, sometimes tasting the surface, but always with a touch of a person whose emotions were tied to the song.  She would play for the family, always a performance, a show.  She would play alone for me, trying to get me interested in learning. 

Then there was Sam, a funny, nice little man. I say little because he was always inhibited, quiet around me, not the over sized persona other of his siblings exhibited in public. He was tall, as I remember- sharp featured face & very kind with the same warm, toothy Knight smile.  I didn’t know him well, my fault. He tried to get me interested in his passion, offered me lessons, that I know my Mom had encouraged with her surreptitious skills.  They did not work, kick the can was more important!   His piano skill came from digging deep into the core of music. He was trained, Julliard and Cincinnati Conservatory.  Another side note, once he got a Thank You note from a former roommate at Julliard for some flowers Sam sent on the occasion of this friend’s great success in a music competition.  The note came from Van Cliburn, a tall, angular Texan, who 50 years ago gave a piano performance in Moscow that won the first Tchaikovsky International Piano Competition. The Russians were not amused.  I tell you Sam was trained and connected.  His quiet style kept him home, where his eldest sisters kept him close.

All this tumble down my memory comes because last week, FaceBook opened to another wonderful connection.  My High School classmate Sheryl Flynt sent this note. 

“Chris, I’ve found Sam’s piano books. I have two. The First one is Piano Pieces. It was copyrighted in 1960 by Schroeder and Gunther, NY. It is so of that era! Water gun is on page 2 and is the piece about Mark that I sang to you at Christmas. My sister Jodee inherited it after me and has colored in the illustrations, but Sam would allow you to color the pieces after you mastered the piece, so it is part of how wonderful he was. He signed it with his characteristic Stork S signature on the last page and dated it. Jodee (errrrrrrr…..) colored his Stork. Mark loved Jodee so she is forgiven. The second book is published by Century Music in NY. in 1961 copyright Samuel Wilson. The first is stamped with the Clinton Harrington Piano company stamp from Central Ave. (the old piano store). I can’t tell you how much I loved Sam and Mark and how much they both added to my childhood in Laurel. Sam must have been incredible. He was so larger than life to this little girl on Wansley Road that biked over to his house to play piano. I noticed that he signed my book completed on my 10th birthday. What a Birthday that must have been.”

That is a nice message.  To me it comes from a time when the hand & the heart were more connected to paper and pen.  Her words are warm & I can feel her love for that true musician, a man who played & taught for the joy of it.  As it happens, “Mark” was my cousin. Mark was our H S Classmate & very close to Sam since he lived next door.

It was such fun for Sheryl to send her note & this summer when we all get together for our upcoming Class Reunion, she will get a big hug from me.  Thank you Sheryl for bring these thoughts into my mind & helping me better get my arms around this Passion.

“A day in the life of some people is more interesting than a month in the life of others.”  I know one whose life is interesting like that, since her mind twists differently from the clock work of most others.  She sees things from angles so diverse.

I am sure that this hypothesis is true.  Pictured here is a wonderful Laurel icon that was, for many years, the focus of attention for anyone between the ages of 15 to 19.   Most all just drove around & around because that proved that we had a driver’s license & Dad’s car.  Mostly, we wanted to see who else was driving round & round.  Can you name the place?

Here is a hint:  One bought great food there, the kind of food someone with a new driver’s license & the need to drive around & around in circles likes to eat.  The menu was advertised on a board at the window.  My favorite, the one listed first was, & still is, the “#1”.  Hummm.. It’s the perfect hamburger, in my opinion.  Soft, warm bun, small flavorful patty with accompaniments limited to Mustard, Ketchup, Pickle, & Onion. Never more, never less!   These accessories were listed under the menu item on the board in abbreviated format to conserve on the little letters it takes to make up the sign; each one different from the other.  Here is first and last: 

#1

MuKePiOn

#6

ChiCheMuKePiOn

Do you get that?  Ok, add chili & cheese.  That is my wife’s favorite, the #6; just so you know, but she’s the spicey kind.

Like I said, some people see different things.  The particular person in this story, well, she’s really different from the rest of us.  Even her siblings think she might be from Mars, maybe Heidelberg.  She’s too young to remember the hay day of this “Place du Cuisine Popular”. I don’t even know if they let her drive early, but that is departing from the story.

We told her of the place & the magical quality of the food.  We told her about the # 1 and #4 too.  We went on & on about the place, the food, & fun of being there with our buddies in the old days & how the place remains good, yet more obscure in these days of “Burger City”.

One day she decided to take a friend on an adventure to this off the beaten path food capital.  They pulled up to the drive-in window, parked, and turned to the menu board.   There she saw the  #1, MuKePiOn.

“Oh No!”, she cried, “The place had changed to a Chinese restaurant.” 

See what I mean?  I do love the oblique views.

Most likely some of you have a memory of something that happened here.  Tell us about it.