Tattoo's blog: "Life"

I was sitting on the porch this morning, at about 3:30am, just watching, listening, and thinking, when it hit me: I am so old, and I've been here for so long, that I could, quite literally, walk around this "Little Switzerland of the Ozarks", stop at just about any spot, and tell a story about some funny, crazy, or stupid shit, that happened there. From the horrible Crescent Hotel fire. I watched it from the end of Singleton, where I cried like a baby, because, to me, that was the castle where the Princess lived, who I slayed dragons every day in my Emerald Forest to keep her safe. I felt helpless that day! The wind was blowing from west to east on that bright & sunny afternoon. The valley that North Main/Hway 23 North runs through was solid black smoke. They called all able-bodied men in town to come help put it out. Once it was almost extinguished, the smoke turned almost pure white; to "Sherman's 66", the classiest service station I've ever seen. Their red and white pinstriped uniforms were awesome. Gawd, I wanted one that said "KEVIN" on it so bad! I would have worn it proudly!; to the way the bakery made downtown smell; to sledding down Howell Street on a huge Coca-Cola sign; to Mr. Walker, (Named "Digby"? Maybe?) who owned "Walker Brother's", giving me a ride down to his store and letting me pick out any cowboy hat I wanted, for free. I chose a black one, of course; to earning a nickel a day working at the gas station that is now Tad's; to the day the Arkansas Razorback's mascot (I believe his name was "Tusk", maybe?) broke out of his cage during a parade and terrorized the whole area until he was caught. It was fucking priceless!; to chief of police Leroy Weems, who who was at least 100 stories by himself. Geez, what a piece of work that bag of douche was; to the first murder that I knew of; to "Bus Driver Dan" who, even though I was very young, let me ride out on the Jefferson Lines bus he drove, out to Miles Mountain Musical Museum, while standing at the front, holding the PA mic, and giving the tour out there and back; to mowing lawns all over town for $1.00 each, except for one huge one. I charged him $6.00, and even felt bad about that; to the wonderful Joy Motel and all that worked there; to the police department throwing teargas into the basement of The Auditorium to break up the Barefoot Ball. What a bunch of fucksticks; to all the bikers & hippies, whom the town hated, but I loved so dearly; to Barb & Bev and Manny & Vernon, who taught me how to be a man; to the Sunday morning planer mill fire; to the spot where I got my first kiss; to listening to Billy Gene Billings fire up his lime green #47 Chevrolet Camaro dirt track stock car; to pulling curtain the night my sister won The Ozark Folf Festival Queen Contest, and the mess I cleaned up for her later that, still to this day, no one knows about. It would have broken her heart into a million tiny pieces; to pregame warm-ups at the old Highlander Gymnasium and hearing Roger Greenlee stand up and yell, "DUNK IT, KEVIN!" (Actually, he used my last name), then putting on a show and giving him his money's worth, one handed or two handed, it didn't matter to me, rattling those rims and listening to him squeal and just living to please that big man; to watching them build Harts; to trying to run away from home, only to be caught sitting in the Continental Trailways bus station (The cabin is now down by Chelsea's), holding in my hand a U.S. Army canteen full of water and a one-way ticket to Denver, CO., that later earned me the beating of a lifetime; to good ol' ESHS; to watching them build The Eureka Inn; to sitting in my car at the top of Planer Hill while listening to AC/DC when I found out Bon Scott had died; to watching them build the "Christ of the Ozarks Statue"; to my car wreck and my motorcycle wreck; to Mount Air Lodge cabins becoming The Inn of the Ozarks; to all the basketball scholarships I turned down because of a shitty attitude (My fault. I should have overcome all that fucked up mess) brought on by a shitty homelife and thinking that being street smart was good enough for me. Being a 6'4" knotheaded boy who could jump like a damn deer as well as play every position on the court should have given me a better future, but I just wasn't that interested at the time; to ghosts, ghosts, and many more buttloads of ghosts. I could go on for days, but I have to end this rambling somewhere. I've seen some things, that's for sure! Eureka has definitely changed over the years, but in many ways, it's still the exactly the same as it ever was. (You'll have to know that I wrote the end of that last line using David Byrne's, of Talking Heads, voice!) Sorry, I'm very easily entertained, and at times, I find myself wildly amusing! What can I say? I'm a cheap date. I take myself out on the town as often as possible. As a kid, I would always read the "Reader's Digest" from cover to cover, but my favorite part was "Laughter The Best Medicine" section. That alone should tell you a lot about me. I never really understood what that meant until my accident in 2006. Since that day, making myself giggle-snort-giggle, helps me take my mind off all the pain I feel every second of every day. I do not post stuff on here for anyone, it's just a place where I can "store" things that give me a chuckle or two. If I find something I think is humorous, and I have an extremely warped sense of humor, it goes on Facebook. Try to imagine, if you will, the things I do not post. Yep. I'm a twisted fuck. I earned every bit of it. BUT! If I have ever offended any of you, I sincerely apologize. That wasn't my intention. Trust me. People have the option to unfollow, ignore, delete, or just roll with it. That choice is yours. I've been "me" for 59+ years. I don't know how to be anyone else, and I do not see any changes looming on the horizon. Y'all have a great day. Peace...

Big hugs & Hot coffee. Kevin aka "Tattoo"