Who’s in Charge Here?

My old Uncle Mort, easily East Texas’ most ancient denizen, never throws anything away. Stuff is stored here and there, including such unlikely items as S&H Green Stamps, “in case they ever come back,” he says. There also are “I Like Ike” buttons and newspaper clippings from the late 1800s.

A while back, he told me of a newspaper item about one of his late nephews who drove a tour bus through Civil War battlefields, pointing out only the sites where the Rebels prevailed. Finally, one lady on board — from Rhode Island — interrupted: “Didn’t the Union troops win any battles in the Civil War?”

“Not while I’m driving this bus they didn’t,” he fumed.

Anyways, Mort recently recalled a note received 40 years ago from yet another nephew, this one still alive. Now 45, one Jon Benton Newbury wrote it when a five-year-old kindergartner. Scrawled on a Big Chief tablet, it was to-the-point, its print in huge letters and sent in an envelope bearing a twenty-two cent stamp.

Crackling with laughter at almost every punctuation mark, Mort insisted on reading it to me, and I’m glad he did!

“Dear Uncle Mort: I have sat at this desk for almost a year, and am not sure I have learned very much. Every day when I get home from school, my parents ask me what I had learned at school that day. When enough was enough, I told ‘em the truth. The teacher told us to ‘line up and shut up, and we did.’”

Reckon that Jon Benton’s assessment of that day’s learning was precursor to mandates heard so often today? They come from power brokers in Austin and Washington, D. C.

It is becoming increasingly and alarmingly obvious that decisions — minor and major — are being made by a handful of major players, who expect the rest of us to “line up and shut up.”

“Whatever happened to referendums to determine what common people think about major issues?” Mort wonders. He has long believed in establishing term limits for office holders in both capitals. The way things are going, term limits are making more and more sense, even if highly unlikely to ever happen. An axiom commonly heard during the American Revolution is recalled: “Taxation without representation is tyranny.” If they could see us now, they’d get a good look at what it’s like with representation.

My uncle has a like-minded friend who lines up with him on many issues. His name is Mickey Eddins, board chairman of Sulphur Springs’ M&F Western Accessories and widely known as a leader in the field. Recently at the 60th anniversary party of Cavender’s Western Wear, it was discovered that Mickey is the firm’s only living original salesman/distributor.

In the early years, he traversed hundreds of thousands of miles in East Texas and Louisiana selling western accessories.

He took great pride in discovering good eating places where locals dine.

Now, years later, he and Linda — his wife of 65 years — enjoy driving the back roads, mostly to ignite memories and to see which “mom and pop” places remain in operation.

A while back, they checked into a Lafayette hotel — on Pinhook Street, alongside the Vermilion River. They asked the desk clerk to suggest a good local place for a hearty breakfast. “Go to T-Coon’s,” he advised. (In French, this means “little raccoons.”)

For three straight days, they loved eating there — repeatedly ordering typical breakfast items, but taking a particular shine to the grits. “Probably some Cajun recipe,” Mickey figured, his analytical mind spinning.

He didn’t want his first bike any more than he yearned for that grits recipe, but he figured it might be hard to come by. “Reckon the chef would share the grits recipe?” Mickey coyly asked the server, flashing a toothy smile.

“I don’t know; I’ll check,” she answered. A few minutes later, she returned. “He said the recipe is printed on the box of Quaker Instant Grits.”.

Dr. Newbury, a speaker in the Metroplex, may be reached at 817-447-3872; email: newbury@speakerdoc.com. Column audio version at www.speakerdoc.com.