Number 11 - December 10, 2013 - by Stan Paregien Sr - Bradenton, Florida

NOTE: The Paradise Report is a free, occasional publication in which Stan Paregien, Sr reports on

life in Paradise -- otherwise known as Florida. Stan and Peggy moved from Edmond, Oklahoma to

Bradenton, Florida on June 24, 2013. This issue contains info and photos about the 117-year old "Beth

Salem" house now for sale, info about the 33rd St. Coffee House, info and photos of some of the

members of the Plantation Grove MHP's "Red Hat Society," photos of Peggy's afternoon fishing trip

with Mike and Shirley Cook, four of my poems, "My Banker Ain't No Friend of Mine," "A Pint-sized

Storyteller," "Happy Birthday to Mike Cook" and "Snuff Dipping Sweethearts: An Ode to Mike &

Shirley Cook," and "A Christmas Poem in Honor of Our Military."

Howdy from Paradise:

Ouch. Our friends and family who live somewhere other than south Florida

have really been hit hard by snow, ice and frigid temperatures during the last

week or so.

Peggy and I had some wonderful times in that cold, snowy stuff back when we

lived out in the countryside north of Stroud, Oklahoma. We often pulled the kids

on a sled out on the deserted county road in front of our house, sometimes using

one of our horses and sometimes the company car I had at the time. Then we

would gather up some snow, carefully making sure there was no "yellow" snow

in the mix, and Peggy would treat us all to some delicious snow ice cream and

some hot chocolate. Yummy.

However, that was then and this is now. And we don't miss those frequent

Oklahoma ice storms, the paralizing knee-deep snow storms or the aggravation

of having to clear our windshields and sidewalks of ice and/or snow.

On December 24th, it will be six months since we moved from Edmond,

Oklahoma to Bradenton, Florida. There have been a few negative aspects we

had not anticipated, but overall it was a very good move for us at this time in our

lives. And we thank our new friends here at Plantation Grove Mobile Home

Park, at the Central Church of Christ in Sarasota and in the larger community

for making us feel at home.

Actually, I did find appears to be not only honest but friendly and quite

knowledgable. He runs Mike Hamilton's Performance Automotive, 4005 301

Blvd. East, Bradenton, FL 34203. Phone 755-7035. And he had the above

cartoon up on his wall. The air conditioner in our van stopped working--not a

good thing, in Florida--so I took it to our local brand-name car dealer. He

charged me over $300 just to diagnosis the problem and wanted $1,200 to

actually fix it. Since he sucker-punched me once, I wasn't in the mood to have

him do it, again. So I asked around and took our van to Mike Hamilton's

Performance Automotive. Mike diagnosed it and fixed it for a total of just over

$600 and, after two months or so, it is still running fine. Thanks, Mike.

My Banker Ain’t No

Friend of Mine

By Stan Paregien Sr Copyrighted July 2, 2012

NOTE: Bankers, bless their greedy hearts, have long been targets of

poets and songwriters and storytellers. I recommend you listen

to “Jolly Banker” by Woody Guthrie for more on this theme,

and can find it by searching YouTube.

1

I was out on the lake with a few of my buddies,

Enjoying a ride in my brand new bass boat.

When I roared past my banker on his big yacht,

He stared at my boat with a vampire-like gloat.

The very next day the repo man took my boat away,

‘Cause my bank note on it was 30 days over due.

The very next time I drove by the lake I saw my banker

Drivin’ my bass boat while romancing my gal Sue.

2

Well, boys, I was driving in town and passed by the bank,

In my six-month old, bright red Silverado pickup truck.

That’s when I saw my banker drooling at my Silverado

With a big grin that told me I was just about out of luck.

Sure ‘nuff, two days later that very same repo man came and

Picked up my new truck right there where I worked.

Then to add insult to injury as I was hitch-hiking home,

My banker drove my truck by me and laughed and smirked.

3

About two weeks later I was outside mowing down my grass

When my banker drove by and gave my house the evil eye.

I’ll tell you, neighbors, that man squeezes a dollar bill so tight

You can see George Washington squirming and about to cry.

Next day the county sheriff came to my mortgaged house

And showed me a paper which said “We’re evicting you.”

So my banker repossessed my house and land on the spot,

Then the sheriff said, “We gotta take your furniture, too.”

4

As time went by my banker got lots richer and I got more poor.

I was sleeping in the park and eating out of trash bins.

Wouldn’t you know it, one day my banker bumped into me

And that sucker walked right up close and at me grins.

He said he'd seen me walking with the sole of one shoe flopping,

And brought out a wad of money wrapped by a rubber band.

My eyes got real big as I thought he had changed his game,

But he gave the rubber band to me, his idea of a helping hand.

5

Well, Jesse James robbed people with a six-gun

But my banker robs people with legal documents.

He’s the jolly banker who calls in people’s loans,

To bust folks down where they don’t have two red cents.

My banker’s most jolly when his debtors are in pain,

He has a financial orgaism when they go bust.

So as you go along life’s long winding, uncertain way,

Remember this, friends, in God only should you trust.

6

A year or two later I had medical bills way up to my elbows,

So, reluctantly, I went to my banker and asked for a loan.

I told him about my time in the hospital and the doctor bills,

And I had cut my other spending right down to the bone.

He smiled and said, “Son, few folks know I have a glass eye.

“If you can tell me which one it is, you can have the dough.”

To his surprise I correctly guessed his glass eye as the right.

I said, “It’s the one with a bit of compassion, don’t you know?”

7

Oh, my heartless banker ain’t no friend of mine.

There’s no love lost between me and that gent.

No, my heartless banker ain’t no friend of mine.

He ain’t broke me yet, but man I am badly bent.

He can just stick his money where the sun don’t shine,

‘Cause my heartless banker ain’t no friend of mine.

This poem, #271, was written on July 2, 2012. This poem

may be shared by email or other correspondence between

individuals. Otherwise, this poem may not be reprinted or

distributed in any form, including public performances and

any commercial use, without the express written permission

of the author.

Hey, Dennis, it is "retirement" -- and

some of us take it seriously.

Hmmm, hits kinda close to home, doesn't it?

This was "cruel and unusual punishment," right?

The Pint-sized Storyteller

by Stan Paregien Sr

Copyrighted 2011

Cassie was already a real corker at the

Ripe old age of well past three.

Never bashful, she was as rambunctious

And full of life as she could be.

The fact is, she loved to make up tales

And share them with one and all.

She learned how to turn her small stories

Into epics stretching long and tall.

Her father, mother and siblings very soon

Grew impatient with her constant chatter.

But Cassie was caught up in her stories

And their sighs just didn't much matter.

Cassie really liked to shine when friends

Or even strangers came to the door.

“Do you want to hear a story, please?”

She'd smile as she skipped across the floor.

“Why, sure I would,” the uninitiated person

Would say with a great big grin.

And that was all she needed to take a breath

And an extended story she'd begin.

Her father usually made it a point to rescue

Cassie's trapped listener at ten minutes or so.

For if he didn’t, his cute pint-sized storyteller

Was so wound up she would just go and go.

One evening her elderly Uncle Henry came by

And Cassie began a story with no apparent end.

Her father tried to stop her after about ten minutes,

But she was on stage before her attentive friend.

“Oh, shucks, you go right ahead my dear,”

Uncle Henry said with unbridled delight.

“I'll sit right here and listen to all your story,

Cassie, even if it takes you all night.”

And so it was on that evening so long ago

Uncle Henry accepted Cassie's gift so small.

And her parents now regret that teenage Cassie

Rarely shares that gift with them at all.

Often we forget some gifts are time sensitive

And must be received when offered or not at all.

So let's examine our hearts and always be ready

To receive such gifts from folks both little and tall.

__________

Based on an article by Jason Thompson about his small daughter. “A Little

Storyteller's Gift,” in Lifetime of Harmony Newsletter (Integris Hospital, Vol. 5,

Number 12, Dec., 2011).

Manasota Burial Park is just a mile or so from our house in Bradenton, Florida.

Among those buried there is one of the famous Ringling Brothers of "Ringling

Brothers Circus" fame. Charles was buried in the impressive crypt shown

below, but I don't know whether there are other family members in there, too.

This group, of which Peggy is a member, had a picnic on Oct. 16, 2013 at

Coquina Beach about seven miles due west of our mobile home park.

Oh, hey, did I mention Mike's middle name is "Big Foot"?

Sunset photo by Peggy Paregien on Little Gasparilla Island,

Florida in August.

On the left are two of our very dear friends from Edmond, Oklahoma. We

showed them the local sites here and in Sarasota, then we rode with them down

to the southern-most point in the United States -- Key West, Florida, just 90

miles as the seagull flies from Cuba. The highlight for me was touring author

Ernest Hemmingway's estate and seeing his study/workroom in a detached

upper room of an old carriage house.

Here are the four of us -- Glenda, James, Stan & Peggy -- enjoying a great meal,

a delightfully warm evening and wonderful fellowship with Christian friends.

Pier 22 Restaurant on the Riverwalk at Bradenton, FL.

Music & Manna

Just read where there is a fun, family-oriented place to go on Saturday nights.

That would be "33rd Street Coffee House" at 5817 33rd St. East, in Bradenton.

No admission charge, but donations are appreciated. It is run by the Community

of Christ Church (same address; Ginger Robertson, pastor) and is open from

6:30 pm to 9:30 pm each Saturday night. Carey Chaney, a lay minister who is

also one of the performers, is the coordinator of the event. Any proceeds go to

the Food Bank of Manatee County. For more information, call: 941-751-5441.

November was a busy time for us as we flew to San Diego, California and visited

with our granddaughter Jodi Barrow and her two children, Dominic and Bailee.

We even got to see Dominic play in a soccer game.

Dominic, Jodi, Bailee and Peggy in San Diego

Then we flew up to Sacramento and drove to Ione, California. There we visited

with my sister, Robert P. Fournier, and her son Brad Loffswold and his wife

Michelle and children Madlynn (now a senior in high school) and Roland.

Roberta P. Fournier, her grandson Roland Loffswold & Stan in Jackson, CA

Next we flew from there to Austin, Texas. Our daughter, Stacy Magness and

husband John, picked us up and drove us to their home in Snook, Texas (a few

miles southwest of College Station).

Here are our daughter Stacy, our granddaughter

Christal & Peggy

Upon our return, we participated in a surprise 60th birthday party for our

friend Mike Cook of Sarasota, Florida.

Mike was born in Corbin, Kentucky in 1953. That was also the hometown of

none other than "The Colonel" of Kentucky Fried Chicken fame. Mike

graduated from Bradenton, Florida's Manatee High School in 1969. He and wife

Shirley have two sons, Scott and David.

Now ol' Mike, who is known as quite a joker, has had a fixation for several years

on the legend of Big Foot. So when his wife, Shirley, asked me to write a poem

about his life we settled on "Big Foot" as the theme.

The end result was a poem/song which I called, "Happy Birthday to Mike

Cook." I had trouble, though, placing the right melody with it to make it a song.

So I asked our preacher, Rod Myers, if he would give it a try. He finally settled

on Tom T. Hall's song, "The Day that Clayton Delaney Died," for the melody

and agreed to sing it at the party.

So I posted on YouTube my movie of Rod singing it for the party. Hope you get

a kick out of it. You'll find it at: http://youtu.be/zL9NTU634dY

And, folks, just to make sure you've had your full dose of sophisticated poetry

today . . . here is something I read at Mike's party.

A Christmas Poem

In Honor of Our Military --Author Unknown

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,

I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.

My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,

My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.

Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,

Transforming the yard to a winter delight.

The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,

Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.

My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,

Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.

In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,

So slumbered I, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,

But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.

Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know,

Then the sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.

My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,

And I crept to the door just to see who was near.

Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,

A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,

Perhaps a Trooper, huddled here in the cold.

Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,

Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.

"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,

"Come in this moment. It's freezing out here!

Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,

You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,

Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts.

To the window that danced with a warm fire's light

Then he sighed and he said, "It's really all right,

I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night."

"It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,

That separates you from the darkest of times.

No one had to ask or beg or implore me,

I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.

My Gramps died in Europe on a day in December,"

Then he said, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."

I've not seen my own son in more than a while,

But my wife sends me pictures. He's sure got her smile."

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,

The red, white, and Blue American Flag.

"I can live through the cold and the being alone,

Away from my family, my house and my home.

I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,

I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.

I can carry the weight of killing another,

Or lay down my life with my sister and brother.

Who stand at the front against any and all,

To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,

Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."

"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,

"Give you money," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?

It seems all too little for all that you've done,

For being away from your wife and your son."

Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,

"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.

"To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,

"To stand your own watch, no matter how long.

"For when we come home, either standing or dead,

"To know you remember we fought and we bled.

"Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,

"That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

Those who know me well are aware I am "techically

challeged" (or is it "challenged, technically). Anyway, you

catch my drift.

My latest frustration is in trying to use my Gmail's storage

thingy called "My Drive." Yes, I can upload files, photos, etc. ,

to that storage box.

However, I would appreciate some help in exactly (i.e., step by step) how to

share only certain ones with friends without giving them access to everything.

Turning back the clock to 33 years ago. This was our

family in Stroud, Oklahoma at Christmas in 1980

Lord willing, I will post the next "Paradise Report" about January 10th. And

then on about January 25th I will post the next issue of "The Paregien Journal."

Until next time, Merry Christmas and a very Happy New Year to each of you.

--Stan

End

Keywords: Stroud, Oklahoma; Bradenton, Florida; Mike Hamilton; Mike Cope;

Shirley Cope; Big Foot; U.S. Military; Red Hat Society; John Magness; Stacy

Magness; Christal Magness; Jodi Barrow; Dominic Barrow; Bailee Barrow;

Roberta Fournier; Roland Fournier; Stan Paregien; Peggy Paregien; San Diego,

California; Ione, California; Snook, Texas; storyteller; Sarasota, Florida;

Manasota Burial Park; Charles Ringling; Ringling Brothers Circus; doohickey;

James Cotton; Glenda Cotton; Key West, Florida; 33rd Street Coffee House;

Tom T. Hall.