Roadtrip: Myrtle Beach '09, Part I

Fiance Diane and I journeyed from the Boro on Sunday afternoon to Myrtle Beach, for the South Carolina Public Defenders' annual convention.



Robert checks us in to the Beach Cove Resort on Sunday Afternoon. He promised us "endless fun".






See? It's right there on his sleeve.










...and on the shampoo and soap. They better not let that stuff run out.







Endless fun? That's a lot of pressure. I guess we'd better get started. Mostly, we were hungry. Weren't sure what we wanted, so we settled for Mexican. That ought to be fun.




Our only standard for the evening libations, was that our drinks be at least the size of our heads. It wasn't easy, but we drained out tankards.













The view from my room on Monday morning was gorgeous.









Limping into the convention center, I craved a cup of Java. What? No coffee? Geez, Louise. What kind of seminar is this?


I've been to, like, a bazillion criminal defense, trial attorney, and government C.L.E. (continuing legal education) classes. Not a lot of surprises.

The keynote speaker, Sister Helen Prejean, at least, was quite good. She wrote "Dead Man Walking", about an inmate on death row. The book was nominated for a Pulitzer Prize, and was adapted into a movie starring Susan Sarandon and Sean Penn. I told her that, because of her speech, I'd do a better job on my death penalty case. She seemed pleased. I neglected to mention that my mom was also a nun. 'Course, she's a Catholic nun and mom was an Episcopal nun.

Sister Helen Prejean, author of Dead Man Walking and our keynote speaker, signs my copy of her newest book, Death of Innocents. She was awesome.


Part II, to follow.

I'll post something tomorrow.

She's Got Legs.

Time to Get a Run.

Ran eight yesterday with the Walterboro Running Club. Twelve on Sunday. Hope to run 15 on Saturday. The WRC remains a rag-tag group. Some, but not all, of the gang were pictured at left in a "Walterboro Press and Standard" newspaper article. The big guy in the back is me. Michael Hughes and Kevin Campbell join me in the back row. Christin Mock, Melanie Hughes and Audra Hudson grace the front row. Tom and Katie, Tim, and the rest of the Round O Rowdies, aren't in the picture, and neither are WRC regulars Eric, Erica, Coleman and Jennifer. Still, it was a nice article.

The "O" Word.

I saw the ad at left in Sunday's paper and remembered a trip to see mom in California a few years ago. We were in Chinatown in San Fransisco and I think I said I wanted some "Oriental" food. Mom "tsk"ed me and told me that I should say "Asian" because "Oriental" was offensive- akin to using the "N" word to describe African-Americans. I certainly hadn't intended it that way. A few minutes after that chastisement, I pointed to an "Oriental Goods" sign that appeared to by run by Asian-Americans. Didn't matter. Words mean what the mass of society decides they mean, a few renegades to the contrary notwithstanding. It doesn't matter if I think a term OUGHT to be offensive; if a term is offensive to someone, there are plenty other words that probably describe the same thing that aren't. Doesn't cost a nickle to be courteous. Hey, reminds of a scene from the old Steve Martin movie "Dead Men Don't Wear Plaid".

Ch-ch-ch-Changes.

Internet friend Tam pointed out that I have let you down. I posted my relationship status change on FaceBook before posting it here. I got engaged to my lovely girlfriend, Diane, and killed an alligator on the same day. I posted the one event, but didn't think I could do justice to the other. I also figured that I've mentioned Diane in so many treacly posts already that you were all going to go into diabetic shock. I'll post something at some point.

Pug Nation.

Neighbor's dog Elmo. I never can tell what he's thinking. But I'm pretty sure he wouldn't turn down a cheeseburger.

Childhood of the Travelling Pants.

This episode of "Zits" hit pretty close to home. As I struggle trying to inculcate my brood into the "real world", I'm reminded of the daunting job Sister Mom had. Borrowed credit cards and pants figured prominently. As a seventeen year old getting ready for Grad Night, I informed mom that the pants I had were wholly inadequate for the occasion. Might she purchase a new pair for her oldest child? With great reluctance she handed me her credit card. "Don't lose it, and don't spend too much". She might ought've defined "too much". Some slick salesman at one of the mall haberdasheries sold me the most expensive pair the store sold. The tally came to about fifty 1978 dollars. Correcting for inflation, in 2009 dollars that'd be... well, it was a lot of money, particularly for a single mother of two working as a community college librarian. To say that mom was upset would be an understatement.

"That salesman should be ashamed of himself", she offered. I doubted he was. "You need to march right back into that mall and take these pants back". Now, if you know anything about guys- particularly guys whose pride is stinging a little- you know that we don't take stuff back. I objected. "I like them, Mom". This was not, strictly speaking, true. I'm no fashion maven. I needed new pants because, well, it was Grad night, but pretty much my only requirement for pants, then and now, was that my ankles not show. "I like them, and I'm not taking them back". "David, they're way too expensive. You must take them back". I hunkered down. I also acted like a jerk. "Nope. I'm not doing it". I got a jar of change (maybe four or five bucks' worth) and pushed it at her. "This is all the money I have. Take it. And I'll tell you what: my 18th birthday is coming up in a couple of weeks. Just don't get me anything". "Fine", she said.

Grad Night was not that great. I'd stayed out all day with my buddy Russ harvesting oysters in Tampa Bay, and I was way sunburned. But I wore the pants. For my birthday, from mom I got what I'd asked for (and what I deserved): nothing. At least, that's how I remember it.

It is meat and right, so to do.

Picked up the gator meat from the processor just outside of Monck's Corner yesterday. I got the idea that this wasn't a familiar haunt for Diane (truth be told, I even felt a little like I was checking into the Bates Hotel). Sampled the sausage there. I'll let you know if the tail's worth telling.

Decisions, decisions.

Life is filled with choices. Which mug will Tom take?









Attaboy.

Gator Hunt.

High School buddy, Phil Walters- now known as Captain Phil- spent many years following our graduation from A.P. Leto H.S. as a wine salesman. Phil managed okay in the corporate world, but civilization never completely agreed with him. He liked to romp around in the woods hunting things like wild boar. He found he had a talent for bagging large reptiles- alligators, specifically- and he ultimately shed his coat and tie to hunt gators professionally. He's become a leader in the gator guide business across the Southeast. I'm no sportsman, but Phil offered me and the Lads a grand opportunity to take us on a gator hunt, if only I could procure a gator tag. I did. The season opened yesterday, and so the adventure began. Phil rolled in late Friday night, after guiding a client to the capture of a near-record in excess of thirteen footer in Georgia. Saturday morning, after breakfast, he ran through the rules with me and the Lads, and had them practice harpoon throwing with some of his gatorsticks (Phil makes gator gear, including harpoons). The Boro is very near the ACE Basin, a confluence of the Ashepoo, Combahee and Edisto Rivers, and home to lots of wetlands and more than a few alligators. Me, Taylor, Captain Phil, and Tyler put in on the Combahee River, only a twenty minute drive from the Boro. It was a truly gorgeous day, whether we caught anything or not. Sunset on the Combahee. CAUTION: The following gets a little bloody. If this sort of thing offends you, you probably ought not to read it. The easiest way to find gators at night, is by the reflection of their eyes. Phil's been doing his thing professionally for more than ten years, and he can get a good idea of the size of an alligator from the reflection of their eyes. We saw maybe thirty or so gators on our trek, but many were too small- or too wary- for us to get a good chance to catch. At about Ten p.m., Phil caught a glimmer just off the bank of the river. He hit the gas in his airboat, and cut sharply toward the little red reflection. Moving deftly as he sped toward the beast, Phil flung his harpoon fifteen feet away and into the water: a direct hit! I knelt at the bow of the airboat, and scooped up the line that was attached to the "dart". I reeled it in, and finally pulled the gator up near the surface. He splashed and swam and twisted, but we had him. Taylor put another harpoon in him. Then Tyler put a third dart into him. The Lads named him "Grant", after an unfortunate school-mate. Poor Grant was having a bad day. Phil gaffed him. Taylor taped his mouth shut, and the Lads hauled him into the boat. Gator Grant was dispatched with a knife to the base of his skull. We got back to the landing at around Eleven; received by a trio of hunters from the Upstate, who clearly coveted our catch. I regarded them warily, as they took pictures of our nine-and-a-half foot gator. "Grant" was no trophy, but was well over the four foot minimum, and a respectible catch.I videoed a little of the business.

Baines, of her Existence.

Gertrude Baines died. She made it 115 years, and enjoyed crispy bacon, fried chicken and ice cream. Okay, so maybe fried food and fat'll kill you. But it took a hunnerd years to kill Gertrude. Now, that's something I can live with.

Something Fishy.

Diane prepares another wonderful meal. This time it's pan-fried tilapia, fresh asparagus with grated parmesian cheese and a baked sweet potato. And it's healthy. Who knew?


Double Dog Dare wine. Opined the Chef, "Not a bad bottle of Chardonay for six bucks".

Signs, 10

Seen at the airport. "Excuse me, Miss. Will that be pedophile or non-pedophile seating?"

Ode to a Monster.

Tales abound of battles epic, but one battle's got me most dyspeptic. Aliens and Predators don't bug me much; another beast's a more sinister touch. Cat has from the Manor left; but of her vermin, we are not bereft. Kitty's gone, but her fleas remain. The itching's driving me insane.

"I'll pick you up and pinch off your head; I'll bring you all the way to dead". I hunt and pluck and pinch and squeeze, but still there are too many fleas.







No luck with locks and stocks and pillories; I'm bringing heavy artilleries. I'll bomb the little biting beasts. No longer will my legs be feasts.

And so with poison I lace the place. Noxious odors invade my face. Aha, but many fleas are dead! I've beat these monsters, as I said.

Or so I believed the truth to be. Two weeks later, I see a flea. I see a flea, then I see three. Then four, and more and more.

Oh foul, bloodsucking, awful flea! You'll surely be the death of me.

Baby Got Back, Three.

Court last week; Court this week. A trip to Panama City in between. This doodle is from last week's term of General Sessions. Ah, the glorious view from the Public Defender's table.

Goodbye, Coach; Goodbye "Dad".

Paul Leo Baggett died yesterday in his hometown in Panama City, Florida. Leo was a football player, and a husband. He had three children, my best friend Russ, Sarah, and Anne, with his college sweetheart, Frandy. Leo was my pee wee league football coach when I was a lad growing up in Tampa, and it took me years to get used to calling him Leo. The Baggetts were my "second" family when I was growing up, and they provided a measure of normalcy and stability to me and my brother when things weren't going so great at home. It's difficult to imagine I could ever repay Leo for all the food he bought (and Frandy prepared) which I consumed over the years. Lots of nights while Frandy was feeding and listening to the neighborhood kids, Leo would fall asleep in front of the t.v. in the family room. Daughter Sarah would shake him when he'd start to snore. He'd scold us when we we acted up. Sometimes he didn't say much. It didn't matter. He was always there. You could count on it. Like me and so many other kids of "broken homes" that the Baggetts took care of, that meant a lot. I love you, Leo, and I'll miss you.

Supersize me.

Man, we're big. I've posted a couple of times about a family that used to live a few houses down from me. The Baggetts were like my second family. My "second Dad", Leo Baggett, played major college football in the mid to late 1950's. As a major college football team, these guys were pretty big, back in the day. But they weren't anywhere near as big as the kids are today. Don't believe me? Let's see. Average weight of the Seminoles' interior lineman (Centers, guards and tackles) in 1955: 196.26 pounds. FSU had two players that weighed more than 220 pounds.

My 14 year old identical twin boys play freshman ball at Beaufort High School. Average weight of interior lineman at Beaufort High School in 2009: 232.24 pounds. The Eagles have 11 players that weigh more than 220 pounds.

Here's Florida State's roster from 1955:


1955 Roster - By Name
From the Florida Times Union, September 9, 1955, page 25
L
T PY
R No Name Pos Hgt Wgt Cl Ltr Hometown (Prior School)
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
43 Emil Abood FB 5-9 170 So Jacksonville (Bishop Kenney)
51 Hobo Ackerman C 5-11 190 So Hopewell, NY
* 60 Leo Baggett G 5-9 195 So * Panama City
* 75 Bob Barber T 5-11 207 Jr ** Belle Glade
* 52 Troy Barnes C 6-2 206 So * Chickasaw, AL
* 29 Carmen Battaglia HB 5-8 180 So Niagara Falls, NY
* 81 Hamilton Bisbee E 6-1 175 So * Sanford
* Bill Brown T 5-11 191 Fr-R Orlando (Edgewater)
* 20 Lee Corso HB 5-10 165 Jr ** Miami (Jackson)
* 27 Gene Cox HB 5-10 175 Sr Lake City (Columbia/Vanderbilt/South Georgia JC)
* 78 John Craig T 6-1 200 So * Orlando
* 50 Bob Crenshaw C 5-9 165 Sr *** Miami
Hal Cummings HB 5-9 179 So Clermont
88 Peter Curry E 6-1 185 Jr Medford, MA
28 Stephen Dean HB 5-10 173 So Oxford, NC
89 Bob Douglas E 6-1 196 Fr Dayton, OH (Fairmont)
* 67 Robert Elliott G 5-11 185 Jr Saint Petersburg
* 85 Tom Feamster E 6-7 250 Sr * Warwick, VA (Warwick/William and Mary)
83 Bob Fountain E 6-2 190 Fr Crestview
74 Willie Gardner T 6-0 220 So Tampa
* 65 Vince Gibson G 5-10 190 Sr * Birmingham, AL (Howard)
* 42 John Griner FB 5-10 175 Sr *** Jacksonville (Lee)
* 23 Jerry Henderson HB 5-11 160 So Pensacola
* 40 Joe Holt FB 5-10 176 Jr ** Graham, NC
* 61 Jerry Jacobs G 6-1 200 Sr *** South Bend, IN
* Eddie Johnson FB 5-10 205 So-R * Charleston, WV
84 David Keene E 6-3 200 Fr Bethlehem, PA
71 Charles Kicklighter T 6-1 211 Sr Savannah, GA (South Georgia JC)
* 44 Bud Leonard FB 5-11 200 Jr ** Ocala
54 Leonard Little C 6-3 203 Fr Nitro, WV
* 22 Buck Metts HB 5-10 168 Jr ** Sanford (Seminole)
Bill Musselman T 5-11 215 So * Lynchburg, VA
15 George Norman QB 5-10 185 Jr Tallahassee (Newnan)
* 21 Billy Odom HB 5-8 165 Jr * Mount Dora
86 Norman Olson E 5-7 171 Jr Chicago, IL
82 Jonah Overton E 6-1 180 Jr Chicago, IL
* 66 Al Pacifico G 5-7 203 Jr ** Altoona, PA
53 Leonard Philion C 5-11 176 Fr Highland Park, MI
* 70 Don Powell T 6-0 205 Sr *** Birmingham, AL
* 10 Vic Prinzi QB 6-0 175 So * Waverly, NY
* 77 William Lee Proctor T 6-4 235 Sr Winter Park (Florida/Rollins)
Bobby Renn HB 5-11 170 So Henderson, NC (Henderson/Davidson College)
25 Burt "Buddy" Reynolds HB 5-10 180 So * West Palm Beach (Palm Beach)
* 69 Ted Rodrigue QB-G 5-11 187 So * Lynn, MA
* 80 Ron Schomburger E 6-1 190 So * Pittsburgh, PA
* 76 Ray Staab T 5-11 205 Jr * Charleston, WV
* 12 Len Swantic QB 5-11 180 Jr ** Columbus, GA
87 William Swilley E 6-1 185 So Albany, GA
Herb Taylor E Fr
64 Bob Thomas G 6-0 180 Fr Mansfield, OH
* 13 Pat Versprille QB 6-2 190 So Norfolk, VA
* 26 Billy Weaver HB 6-0 180 So Miami
/////////////////////

Here's what the Beaufort High School varsity roster looks like:

Football - Boys Varsity

1 Brad Gonzales SR 5'9" 170 RB
2 Duane Chisolm SR 6'3" 250 DL
3 Brian Simmons SR 5-9 160 WR
4 Bryan Jenkins SR 5-8 155 DB
5 Jimmy Legree SR 6-0 175 DB
6 Antwan Smalls SR 6-2 175 WR
7 Trey Nichols SR 6-3 205 LB
8 Justin Parker JR 6-2 205 LB
9 Beau Brown SO 6-1 185 QB
10 Thomas Gruel JR 5-9 170 QB
11 Michael Ginn SR 5-11 180 WR
12 Blake Gruel SR 5-10 175 QB
14 Owen Plair SR 5-10 155 K/P
15 Dymonte Gwathney SO 5-11 175 WR
18 Morgan Martinez JR 5'10" 170 WR
20 Alex Simmons SO 5-10 180 RB
21 Marquis Simmons SR 6-0 175 LB
22 Josh McPherson SO 6-1 195 RB
23 Xavier Fields SR 5-8 150 DB
24 Keenan Jackson SO 5-10 170 DB
25 Calvin Atkins JR 5-10 165 DB
27 Arthur Smith SR 5-11 180 DB
33 Antonio Coaxum SR 5-11 190 LB
34 Alex Wierzbicki SR 6-3 203 DL
35 CJ Powell SR 5"8" 155 DB
40 Marcus Heyward SR 5-10 180 LB
41 Kevin Gess SO 5-9 165 LB
42 Demeo Holmes SO 5-9 165 RB
45 Dalvin Broussard SO 6-0 260 DL
50 Sam Venning SR 6-0 215 LB
51 Chris Waters SR 5-11 190 LB
54 Brandon Frazier JR 5-10 185 LB
55 Karl Lyttle JR 5-10 255 OL
56 Mannie Byas JR 6-0 205 DL
57 Alex Amaya JR 5-10 185 TE
60 Patrick Dennis JR 5-10 245 OL
61 Michael Boles SR 5-10 265 OL
62 Jack Ferreri JR 5-10 200 OL
65 Victor Blackburn JR 5-10 205 OL
69 Shane Dwyer SR 5-11 215 OL
71 Ronald Spain JR 5-11 250 OL
72 Zach Trent JR 5-10 245 OL
73 Conrad Alston JR 6-0 235 DL
76 Conner Buss SO 6-1 215 DL
78 Derrell Garry SR 6-0 225 DL
79 Deon Fuller SR 5-10 235 OL
80 Cody Gasque JR 6-0 190 TE
81 Tim Britton JR 5-10 155 K/P
85 Shawn Reed JR 6-0 190 TE
87 David Davenport SR 6-4 180 WR
99 Maurice Jacques JR 6-1 240 DL
///////////////////////