TERRY'S CHRONICLES ...
Terry ... I hope you will share all of your wonder stories here where we can read them and comment!
Thanks ... LadyJ
Thanks ... LadyJ
about 1 month ago
Thank you so much, I am leaving for Tenn this morning back Thurs night. Will be near Galtlinburg
about 1 month ago
Happy vacationing Terry! We look forward to your work when you return!!
about 1 month ago
Hey Terry ... Tennessee is my neck of the woods!!!
Enjoy your vacation and then ... I hope to be reading a lot of your work!!!
Enjoy your vacation and then ... I hope to be reading a lot of your work!!!
about 1 month ago
I am so very flattered you would consider putting my stories in Terry's Chronicles. It is really an honor that you would do that. I am also fascinated at how will you do that?
about 1 month ago
All you need to do is just write in the response screen ... which I'm sure you knew that :-)
Put your very, very interesting tidbits here and then anytime we want to be informed we just go directly to your chronicles :-)
Put your very, very interesting tidbits here and then anytime we want to be informed we just go directly to your chronicles :-)
about 1 month ago
I REMEMBER
I am writing this not because I am famous, or have lived an exceptional life. I want someone to know I walked the earth, I lived, I breathed, I existed. To say life is short is easy, to realize it; well, not so easy. Time steals so much from us. What difference have we made, will we be missed, or will we be forgotten? I have no illusions I am writing the great American novel.
I am writing this as memories that hopefully will be read by my Grandchildren and their children and on down the line. So where do I start?
I am typing this on a word processor, which is an amazing development, but accepted today as old technology. I however, learned to type on the old manual typewriters, as a lark in High School for credit toward graduation. I had already finished the required subjects, so I figured typing would be an easy course, and more than an even bet the class would be full of girls. Seems like a lifetime ago, well 1953/54 was a lifetime ago.
Those skills on the old typewriter stayed with me, so while I’m not particularly fast I am relatively competent. And I was right; the class was full of girls.
I was born in Halifax Hospital in Daytona Beach on Feb.15, 1937. Not many old folks around originally from Daytona it seems. Daytona in the 40’s and 50’s like everywhere else I guess, was a different place. It used to be a nice place to live. Ridgewood Ave was 2 lanes, malls were not even a thought, and going downtown was special, I grew up in an area called Kingston. It was just a small section in Daytona a few blocks square, running from about North St on the south to the Holly Hill line at 2nd street and from Beach St west to Canal Rd, now Nova Rd. The area now is a seedy, run down area frequented by prostitutes and drug dealers.
A lot of streets were unpaved and kids could play safely in the streets and in the neighborhoods. People were different then as was the pace of life. The teachers controlled schools, and respect was just a way of life. Grownups were referred to as Mr. or Mrs., and discipline was either self imposed or imposed upon you. A wise mouth was not tolerated in school or by parents, aunts or uncles or grownups in general.
I remember catching a train with a coal burning steam engine to go to Atlanta to visit my grandparents. The Daytona train station was at Magnolia Ave and Marion Street in Daytona. I remember sitting on the wooden benches at the Depot and seeing the porters, or Redcaps, pulling green wooden sided wagons full of passenger’s luggage in preparation for the train.
I remember seeing the water fountains and bathrooms with signs that said “ White” and “ Colored”. The waiting rooms were divided into “ White” and “Colored”, the station was divided with the ticket booth in the middle and waiting rooms on either side. Integration and equal rights were a long way off.
I remember the black smoke coming from the stack on the engine billowing out and later when we were underway rolling past the windows. I remember the steam puffing out near the wheels as the Engineer applied the brakes, the sound of the steam whistle and the big pistons that cranked the wheels slowing as the train came to a stop. Even while sitting there waiting, the engine continued to steam like it was breathing. You could smell the smoke, and the escaping steam would make clouds on the platform.
I remember the Conductor, wearing a black suit with a cap with a shiny Florida East Coast Railroad emblem putting out a step for passengers to step up to the steps of the passenger car. I remember the Conductor blowing a whistle and calling “ ALLLLLL ABOOOAAAARRRD, when it was time to leave the station
Mom had packed a lunch for us on the train and it was exciting to see the countryside roll by and the train sway on the rails. Train travel so common then, so very rare today. Locally all we see are the freight trains. A strike between Fla. East Coast Railroad and the Union over the need for a Fireman, to shovel coal into the firebox on the train engine, now run by large diesel engines killed the Railroad. I remember seeing men walking a picket line next to the railroad tracks at each crossing. Ed Ball ran Fla East Coast and said, ‘ I will shut down the railroad before I give in”, and he did.
I remember going to my uncle’s in Fitzgerald Ga and they had a black lady for a cook. Everyone thought the world of her and called her Aunt Hattie. She made the most delicious biscuits, and when she put them out to cool. I would try to sneak up and grab one. She would laugh and shake a wooden spoon at me, and tell me I had to wait “ til its time to sit for dinner”.
When we were there her children were playing in the yard and I was out there playing with them. When dinner was ready and all of us were seated at the table, those kids were still outside. I remember asking why didn’t they come in and eat dinner. I was told to be quiet that they were not supposed to eat with us. I kept looking out of the window, wondering why?
I remember going to the “picture show” which is what they called movies in those days, to see “Gone with the Wind”. The movie premier was in Atlanta on Dec. 19, 1939.
When we went, the movie had just come out, so was that the premier we went to, I don’t know. It was perhaps one of the most memorable movies of all time. Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh, Leslie Howard, and Olivia De Havilland. It is still a classic. I can still remember the servant girl “ Prissy “ played by Butterfly McQueen, who said while helping Scarlett O’Hara giving birth, “ I don’t know nothing bout birthing no babies”.
The movie broke new ground as far as the censors were concerned at the time. Rhett Butler, played by Clark Gable, upon leaving Scarlett O’ Hara at the plantation “ Tara “, said as he walked out the door, “ Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn”. Wow unheard of dialog in 1939
I remember on that trip going to the “Cyclorama” which was a circular panorama of the battle of Atlanta in the Civil War. The circular mural was enhanced by mannequins on the floor, showing the wounded and dead, the battle scenes with period costumes, rifles, and artillery pieces were so very real looking at that time.
I remember so much more but this is probably a good place to stop. I wouldn’t want you to hit your head on the keyboard as you fall asleep.
I am writing this not because I am famous, or have lived an exceptional life. I want someone to know I walked the earth, I lived, I breathed, I existed. To say life is short is easy, to realize it; well, not so easy. Time steals so much from us. What difference have we made, will we be missed, or will we be forgotten? I have no illusions I am writing the great American novel.
I am writing this as memories that hopefully will be read by my Grandchildren and their children and on down the line. So where do I start?
I am typing this on a word processor, which is an amazing development, but accepted today as old technology. I however, learned to type on the old manual typewriters, as a lark in High School for credit toward graduation. I had already finished the required subjects, so I figured typing would be an easy course, and more than an even bet the class would be full of girls. Seems like a lifetime ago, well 1953/54 was a lifetime ago.
Those skills on the old typewriter stayed with me, so while I’m not particularly fast I am relatively competent. And I was right; the class was full of girls.
I was born in Halifax Hospital in Daytona Beach on Feb.15, 1937. Not many old folks around originally from Daytona it seems. Daytona in the 40’s and 50’s like everywhere else I guess, was a different place. It used to be a nice place to live. Ridgewood Ave was 2 lanes, malls were not even a thought, and going downtown was special, I grew up in an area called Kingston. It was just a small section in Daytona a few blocks square, running from about North St on the south to the Holly Hill line at 2nd street and from Beach St west to Canal Rd, now Nova Rd. The area now is a seedy, run down area frequented by prostitutes and drug dealers.
A lot of streets were unpaved and kids could play safely in the streets and in the neighborhoods. People were different then as was the pace of life. The teachers controlled schools, and respect was just a way of life. Grownups were referred to as Mr. or Mrs., and discipline was either self imposed or imposed upon you. A wise mouth was not tolerated in school or by parents, aunts or uncles or grownups in general.
I remember catching a train with a coal burning steam engine to go to Atlanta to visit my grandparents. The Daytona train station was at Magnolia Ave and Marion Street in Daytona. I remember sitting on the wooden benches at the Depot and seeing the porters, or Redcaps, pulling green wooden sided wagons full of passenger’s luggage in preparation for the train.
I remember seeing the water fountains and bathrooms with signs that said “ White” and “ Colored”. The waiting rooms were divided into “ White” and “Colored”, the station was divided with the ticket booth in the middle and waiting rooms on either side. Integration and equal rights were a long way off.
I remember the black smoke coming from the stack on the engine billowing out and later when we were underway rolling past the windows. I remember the steam puffing out near the wheels as the Engineer applied the brakes, the sound of the steam whistle and the big pistons that cranked the wheels slowing as the train came to a stop. Even while sitting there waiting, the engine continued to steam like it was breathing. You could smell the smoke, and the escaping steam would make clouds on the platform.
I remember the Conductor, wearing a black suit with a cap with a shiny Florida East Coast Railroad emblem putting out a step for passengers to step up to the steps of the passenger car. I remember the Conductor blowing a whistle and calling “ ALLLLLL ABOOOAAAARRRD, when it was time to leave the station
Mom had packed a lunch for us on the train and it was exciting to see the countryside roll by and the train sway on the rails. Train travel so common then, so very rare today. Locally all we see are the freight trains. A strike between Fla. East Coast Railroad and the Union over the need for a Fireman, to shovel coal into the firebox on the train engine, now run by large diesel engines killed the Railroad. I remember seeing men walking a picket line next to the railroad tracks at each crossing. Ed Ball ran Fla East Coast and said, ‘ I will shut down the railroad before I give in”, and he did.
I remember going to my uncle’s in Fitzgerald Ga and they had a black lady for a cook. Everyone thought the world of her and called her Aunt Hattie. She made the most delicious biscuits, and when she put them out to cool. I would try to sneak up and grab one. She would laugh and shake a wooden spoon at me, and tell me I had to wait “ til its time to sit for dinner”.
When we were there her children were playing in the yard and I was out there playing with them. When dinner was ready and all of us were seated at the table, those kids were still outside. I remember asking why didn’t they come in and eat dinner. I was told to be quiet that they were not supposed to eat with us. I kept looking out of the window, wondering why?
I remember going to the “picture show” which is what they called movies in those days, to see “Gone with the Wind”. The movie premier was in Atlanta on Dec. 19, 1939.
When we went, the movie had just come out, so was that the premier we went to, I don’t know. It was perhaps one of the most memorable movies of all time. Clark Gable, Vivien Leigh, Leslie Howard, and Olivia De Havilland. It is still a classic. I can still remember the servant girl “ Prissy “ played by Butterfly McQueen, who said while helping Scarlett O’Hara giving birth, “ I don’t know nothing bout birthing no babies”.
The movie broke new ground as far as the censors were concerned at the time. Rhett Butler, played by Clark Gable, upon leaving Scarlett O’ Hara at the plantation “ Tara “, said as he walked out the door, “ Frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn”. Wow unheard of dialog in 1939
I remember on that trip going to the “Cyclorama” which was a circular panorama of the battle of Atlanta in the Civil War. The circular mural was enhanced by mannequins on the floor, showing the wounded and dead, the battle scenes with period costumes, rifles, and artillery pieces were so very real looking at that time.
I remember so much more but this is probably a good place to stop. I wouldn’t want you to hit your head on the keyboard as you fall asleep.
about 1 month ago
Dear Terry you are indeed a historian! The Chronicles that you have presented are a tastee sample of what is to come. Although I am "off" today I couldn't help but sneak a peek at what's cooking in your neck of the woods.
Thanks so much for sharing your rich historical prospective and we are anxiously awaitng further developments :-)
Thanks so much for sharing your rich historical prospective and we are anxiously awaitng further developments :-)
about 1 month ago
Dear Lady you are a glutton for punishment LOL
about 1 month ago
I remember, Chapter Two
My Dad was born in Pineview Ga., a small town where his Father was a Justice of the Peace and his Grandfather was the town Marshal. His Grandfather carried a .44 caliber Colt pistol in his overalls, and those who ran afoul of the law were brought before my Grandfather the Judge.
My Dad told the story of a barber in town who had loaned money to, I suppose a dead beat, and the man did not live up to his agreement and came by the barber shop and told the barber he didn’t have the money to pay him back. The story goes that the barber went to the blacksmith shop and picked up a lot of horseshoe nails that had been pulled from a horse being shod. He took them back to the barbershop and loaded them into shot gun shells and then put the double-barreled shotgun by the door to the shop. The next time the deadbeat came by the barber asked him for the money he had loaned him. The deadbeat laughed and said, “ You can’t get what I ain’t got”. The barber picked up the shotgun and blew most of the guy’s head off. Dad said the procedure was to get a coroner from Hawkinsville to come to the death scene but it was getting dark and no one wanted to ride to Hawkinsville to get him until the next morning. They simply built a fire near the body and a couple of men kept watch until the coroner could be summoned the next morning.
In those days people did not talk to each other the way they do today, not even joking because it could get you killed.
I remember during the war things were in short supply and everything useful was recycled for the war effort.
I remember cutting and flattening tin cans for the war effort with a hatchet, and hitting my thumb with it. Cut it pretty bad and Mom wrapped it in gauze and poured kerosene on it. The scar is there to this day. Dad’s nephew was a tail gunner on a B-17 and was killed on a crash landing after the plane was overloaded. He is buried in the Philippines. I went to the Philippines on maneuvers from Japan in 1957
I remember going to the grocery store and Mom using war ration coupons to buy food, which was rationed during the war. She would buy white oleo, which came with a dry package of food coloring to mix with the oleo to make it the right color. There was a ration sticker on the windshield of the car because gasoline was also rationed. It was a D as far as I can remember, which established the number of gasoline gallons you could buy per week.
I remember Uncle Jim had a 1937 Chevrolet coupe that Dad borrowed for us to go to Fitzgerald to visit family. I remember there was a shelf back of the seat under the rear window and I could lie up there while Dad drove
Uncle Jim was a long time smoker. He rolled his own cigarettes using “ Prince Albert” tobacco. I used to watch him roll them and then lick the edge of the paper to stick it together. He always had a cloth pouch of Prince Albert with a drawstring and a pack of rolling papers in his pocket.
Mom and Dad bought a home in Daytona for $1500.00 in the mid 40’s before I started school. My sister was just a toddler at the time. No Kindergarten back then.
I remember going to an “ Air Show “ at the Daytona airport and we had front row parking at the fence. My little sister was in the back seat of the car as we watched the aerobatics over the airport. One plane did a low pass over the airport and did it upside down. Just as he got in front of us he intended to pull up, however being upside down I don’t know if he pushed the controls the wrong way or what, but the plane just plowed into the runway right in front of us and exploded. It was a huge ball of fire. I remember my sister screaming in the back seat, screaming and screaming.
And now it’s late and I am putting myself to sleep. If you can stand it I can continue
My Dad was born in Pineview Ga., a small town where his Father was a Justice of the Peace and his Grandfather was the town Marshal. His Grandfather carried a .44 caliber Colt pistol in his overalls, and those who ran afoul of the law were brought before my Grandfather the Judge.
My Dad told the story of a barber in town who had loaned money to, I suppose a dead beat, and the man did not live up to his agreement and came by the barber shop and told the barber he didn’t have the money to pay him back. The story goes that the barber went to the blacksmith shop and picked up a lot of horseshoe nails that had been pulled from a horse being shod. He took them back to the barbershop and loaded them into shot gun shells and then put the double-barreled shotgun by the door to the shop. The next time the deadbeat came by the barber asked him for the money he had loaned him. The deadbeat laughed and said, “ You can’t get what I ain’t got”. The barber picked up the shotgun and blew most of the guy’s head off. Dad said the procedure was to get a coroner from Hawkinsville to come to the death scene but it was getting dark and no one wanted to ride to Hawkinsville to get him until the next morning. They simply built a fire near the body and a couple of men kept watch until the coroner could be summoned the next morning.
In those days people did not talk to each other the way they do today, not even joking because it could get you killed.
I remember during the war things were in short supply and everything useful was recycled for the war effort.
I remember cutting and flattening tin cans for the war effort with a hatchet, and hitting my thumb with it. Cut it pretty bad and Mom wrapped it in gauze and poured kerosene on it. The scar is there to this day. Dad’s nephew was a tail gunner on a B-17 and was killed on a crash landing after the plane was overloaded. He is buried in the Philippines. I went to the Philippines on maneuvers from Japan in 1957
I remember going to the grocery store and Mom using war ration coupons to buy food, which was rationed during the war. She would buy white oleo, which came with a dry package of food coloring to mix with the oleo to make it the right color. There was a ration sticker on the windshield of the car because gasoline was also rationed. It was a D as far as I can remember, which established the number of gasoline gallons you could buy per week.
I remember Uncle Jim had a 1937 Chevrolet coupe that Dad borrowed for us to go to Fitzgerald to visit family. I remember there was a shelf back of the seat under the rear window and I could lie up there while Dad drove
Uncle Jim was a long time smoker. He rolled his own cigarettes using “ Prince Albert” tobacco. I used to watch him roll them and then lick the edge of the paper to stick it together. He always had a cloth pouch of Prince Albert with a drawstring and a pack of rolling papers in his pocket.
Mom and Dad bought a home in Daytona for $1500.00 in the mid 40’s before I started school. My sister was just a toddler at the time. No Kindergarten back then.
I remember going to an “ Air Show “ at the Daytona airport and we had front row parking at the fence. My little sister was in the back seat of the car as we watched the aerobatics over the airport. One plane did a low pass over the airport and did it upside down. Just as he got in front of us he intended to pull up, however being upside down I don’t know if he pushed the controls the wrong way or what, but the plane just plowed into the runway right in front of us and exploded. It was a huge ball of fire. I remember my sister screaming in the back seat, screaming and screaming.
And now it’s late and I am putting myself to sleep. If you can stand it I can continue
about 1 month ago
