Papa and St. Nick

Happy Birthday To My Daddy

I had the GRANDgirls and my niece and nephew with me the week before Father's Day.

We were staying in St. Augustine which is about 30 miles from where my parents live.

It was fun to go over one night and take Daddy and Mama to dinner and celebrate Father's Day a few days early.
p.s. I love that daddy has on one of the Sweetheart's Griffis Steel Co. work shirts. He gets a lot of hand me downs, :)

These are his GRANDchildren and the only 2 GREAT-GRANDchildren.

Amelia and Max are my brother's oldest and youngest children. The middle child was at Boy Scout camp.

Maxwell is Papa's youngest GRANDson.

Amelia Arlene with Papa.

Shelby wanted her picture with Papa too.

And Ms Reagan was all smiles.

And not to be left out they all got their pictures with GRANDmother.

And of course I needed a picture with my mama too.

We really had a nice evening and the children had a great time.

When they got back to the house Papa let the three youngest play his harmonicas.

If that wasn't a sight to behold and to hear I don't know what was!!

We are headed back down to Florida after church today to celebrate his birthday.

Best Daddy and Papa in the whole wide world!

Love you much!

Happy birthday today!

Tasty Tuesday

My Daddy makes better Banana Pudding than your Daddy!!

And he enjoys making it and takes great care in making it so perfect.

I finally took the time to take some pictures of him making

it for our Crenshaw Family Reunion this past weekend.

See that cute smile, he was grinning at me for taking his picture.

He's having some health problems and is having some tests run today

could you please keep him in your prayers?

Thanks.

This is an email he sent us a few weeks ago about the said Banana Pudding:
Dear ones,
Last night I went to General Priesthood meeting at the Stake Center. Our Stake President, Gene Patch, was making his way around the chapel greeting and shaking hands with all the brethren, when he got to the Palatka bunch he came down the row shaking hands and when he got to me he said, "Hi Bro.Crenshaw, oh by the way, a few days ago, Elder Gonzales of the Seventy was in our home for dinner and my wife fix your recipe for your banana pudding and it was delicious and Elder Gonzales said so too. He continued and said to tell Bro. Crenshaw it was great. So we gave you the credit for the recipe."

Last year when we had Ward Conference and dinner afterwards I fix two pudding so most would have some. Well, the Stake Presidency and wives were there and they got some of my banana pudding and they told me the really liked it. Around the first of the this year President Patch and Sister Patch was here for a Scout Court honor. I spoke to them she ask if I would give her my recipe for my banana pudding and I said if you'll give me your e-mail I'll send it to you. So she did and then I did.

Didn't hear anymore about it until last night when he told me the above information. It tickled me and I laughed and laughed. What a moment, just had to share that with y'all.

Y'all be good.
Keep the Faith,
I love you all,
Papa, Billy

I just thought that was so sweet and wanted to share it with yall along with the recipe again!

Papa's Banana Pudding

Ingredients:

4-6 ripe bananas, mellow, not mushy

1 box of vanilla wafers

small can 8 oz of crushed pineapple

2 cups of cold milk, skimmed

1 large box INSTANT VANILLA pudding mix

1 tub of cool whip topping

Directions:

Make sure cool whip topping is thoroughly thawed. Place cut up bananas and wafers in layers in serving bowl. Save about 12-15 wafers and crumbs to decorate the topping. Mix together the crushed pineapple and its juice, 2 cups of cold milk and slowly stir in the instant vanilla mix, remember the box calls for 3 cups of milk but you are substituting 8 oz of pineapple & juice for one cup of milk. Then shake or beat with electric beater as directed on package, at least one and a half minutes, then pour evenly over the wafers and bananas. When the liquid has settled, spread the topping over the mixture. Add the saved wafers and add them in your own design and sprinkle on the crumbs. Best when chilled a few hours or over night in the fridge. Enjoy the taste and the compliments. Guaranteed!

Try it you'll like it, I promise!

True Love!

HAPPY 54th ANNIVERSARY
to my sweet mama and daddy!
Love yall with all my heart!

My Daddy's Daddy

This is my daddy and the following is what he

wrote about his daddy, my GRAND~pappy.

REMEMBERING OUR DADDY
By: Billy Sanford Crenshaw

Our daddy, Jessie Edward Crenshaw, or “Mr. Ellis” as most people knew him was born in Pulaski County, Georgia November 13, 1894 to Meredith Sanford Crenshaw and Nicey Lucretia Nancy Ann Cornelia Dixon.
On 10 October 1915, he borrowed a horse & buggy and drove to the Barlow farm and picked up Lola Barlow, daughter of William Right Barlow and Prezzie Lizzie Alva Rhetta Wynne Barlow. They drove to Cochran, in Bleckley County and the two were wed. Lola had turned 15 on April 29th of that year.

The two had the following issue: --5 sons and 2 daughters:
First born was a baby boy who lived five days and died. He was not given a name as was the custom in those days. So the family afterwards always just called him ‘Baby Brother’.
Second child was Thelma Louise, then Hazel Cleo, William Meredith, James Edward, Billy Sanford and the baby of the family, Samuel Leon.

Daddy was a hard worker, he had to be to provide for the large family that he and mother had brought into the world. Daddy was a righteous man, a Christian man who was well thought of by those who knew him. He was honest and respected and lived a good life. He was a Gentleman and a Gentle-man, always treating our dear mother with love and respect. Daddy read his Bible often and prayed daily. I remember daddy being called on to pray in church and it was his manner to kneel at the pew where our family sat to offer that prayer. He also served as the ‘Song Leader’ at church as we were growing up.

I never knew our daddy to say a cuss word. Nor did I ever know daddy to lay a hand in anger toward our mother, in all their 58 plus years of marriage. Sure, I heard them argue and fuss but never fight that I know of.

Although money was meager, daddy always had change enough in his overall pockets to ‘loan’ us .50 cents to go to the picture show, though he himself never went. And I don’t ever remember paying back those ‘loans’.

Daddy and mother really loved to go fishing together, to the creek, or river, or lake. He was one of the best, but our mother could out fish him. They would take us boys with them if we weren’t off somewhere playing in a ball game.
Daddy and mother did not have tackle boxes. Mother would sew together a cloth knap sack with a strap to go across their shoulder. In that knap sack they carried fishing line, hooks, lead sinkers, floats, a knife, pliers and a can of worms and anything else they thought they might need.

I mentioned a knife. Daddy always carried a pocket knife for what ever he might need it for. I can remember asking daddy to sharpen my pencil and he could put the best point on a lead pencil, as good as the sharpeners in our class rooms.

Daddy wasn’t a mean person, but he believed that we boys should behave ourselves and if we got too rowdy or misbehaved he would whip us with his belt or most of the time he would threaten us with the phrase, “Boy I’m going to get your jacket.” That saying was usually enough to settle us down. Now if we acted up around mother, her saying was, ”Boy I’m going to get a switch and cut the blood out of you.” I know that sounds terrible but a good switching was needed sometimes for hard headed boys. The switches were thin and strong and would leave streaks on us, hurt like the dickens, but do no lasting harm.

Daddy was a neighborly person, always speaking or chatting with folks passing our home. There would come a “Howdy Mr. Ellis, how you doing”? Most always, the reply would be, “Oh just tollable(tolerable), how you doing”? Then they would chat a while before the person went on toward the store or into town. I can still see daddy and his next door friend sitting on our porch swinging and talking, probably about what was going on in the Cotton Mill. Mr. Bob Lee was the friend and was a supervisor at the mill and daddy was a ‘fixer’, meaning that if something broke down, they would say “Go get Mr. Ellis, sometimes in the middle of the night they would come knocking on our door for daddy to come to the mill to fix a machine that had broken down.

In conversation, another word that daddy would use was ‘pshaw’, which is used to express irritation, disapproval, contempt, or disbelief. But when daddy said it, it came out as “shaaaa, I don’t belief that happened.” In fact one of the things that he did not believe happened was when the USA landed a man on the moon. Shaaaa, that didn’t happen, they made all that up in a movie studio somewhere was the way he would think.

Daddy had some peculiar ways about him, some were kind of funny. We sometimes get a chuckle when thinking about how he thought he could save a little gas by switching off the old truck at the top of a long down hill slope and just coast down to the bottom of the hill, then switching it back on and popping the clutch to make it catch up again. I have also known him to try burning kerosene in that old truck be cause it was a few cents cheaper. Can you believe that and gas was only 19 to 21 cents a gallon back then?

Daddy sure loved mothers cooking. I can remember her cooking a large pot of butter beans and putting a big chunk of fat back in the pot with them. He would dip out a plate full and cut off a big piece of the fat back to eat along with it, with some of mothers good old cornbread. There would always be some kind of dessert which he would always indulge in. Then he would go back to the fat back for a chunk of that and say, “I got to get that sweet of my mouth.”

Yes, our daddy was a good Christian man, a God-fearing man. I know he loved the Lord and the Lord loved him. May he rest in peace until the second coming of the Lord, then we shall all raise up and daddy will say “Let us all sing ‘Shall we gather at the river'.”

Happy Father's Day!

How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?

My Mama and Daddy used to sing this song to me and my siblings.

It's always been a favorite of mine.

And when I hear it I can sing most all the words.

I've been singing it to the GRAND~girls lately.

I picked up the oldest one from school today and

from the back seat she had a request.

"Gigi will you sing me the doggie in the window, please?"

Well, when you say please!

And by all means it has to be Patti Page singing!

Practicing

Reagan can't say her "C's" and "R's".

We were practicing.

Papa Crenshaw and Grandmother Crenshaw are my parents.

I love the way she says or tries to say their names.

This ones for yall, daddy and mama.

Love you.

The Week Started Off Sad

You know at some time we all get

those phone calls.

The ones with sad news.

You know they are coming but

they are still hard to hear.

This is my Aunt Thelma and her youngest daughter.

She is my daddy's oldest sister.

This picture was taken a year ago mothers day.

She passed away yesterday at 4:30 pm.

It's sad but a blessing to her and her family.

She has suffered with Alzheimer's the

last few years and it has been so hard.

We'll go to her funeral later in the week.

She lived up in middle GA. about a

4 hour ride from here.

Every year when I was growing up

she sent me a birthday card with a

stick of Juicy Fruit gum in it.
That was always fun to look forward to.

The last time I saw her she didn't

know me but still gave me the biggest hug.

Then I get a tearful phone call from Christon last night around 8:30.

Very distraught, the family dog, Copper was found dead last night when Harrison went out to feed him. He was fine when she came home from work at 5:30 and at 8:00pm he was dead. He was a great dog for the GRAND~girls. They loved him and will be very upset when they find out this afternoon. They were already asleep last night so didn't have to go through the drama last night.

*

Just a part of life but still sad.

Tasty Tuesday

I decided on a Pound Cake for daddy's birthday last Friday.

He and Mama were taking the Royal Nephews to the beach after our dinner.

The cake was going with him and since the temperatures have been close to 100* I didn't want a cake with icing that would melt.

So I went with Pound cake.

Why I didn't use my own wonderful recipe I have no idea.

I used Paula Dean's recipe instead.
Not a good idea.

It was on the dry side.

You can click here for Paula Deans Grandmother

Paul’s Sour Cream Pound Cake

But I'm giving you mine instead, It is much better. There are very small differences, but those differences make all the difference in the world.

Sour Cream Pound Cake

2 teaspoon vanilla
1/4 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder
6 large eggs yolks

6 egg whites
3 cup flour
1 cup sour cream
3 cup sugar
1/2 lb (2 sticks) butter
Directions
Preheat oven to 325 degrees.

In a large mixing bowl, combine and cream the butter and sugar together.

Add one egg yolk at a time beating after each one.

Add the sour cream and beat again.

Sift the baking soda and flour together.

Add the sifted flour to the creamed mixture one cup at a time.

Add the vanilla and beat.

Now add all the egg whites at one time and beat until well blended. Pour the mixture into a greased and floured tube/bunt pan. Bake for 1 hour 20 minutes or and hour and a half. Do not over cook.

Yield: 8 to 10 servings
Preparation time: 25 minutes
Cooking time: 1 hour 20/30 minutes
Ease of preparation: easy

NO! Not Another Shirt?

HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

Did you get your dad another shirt?

What about a new tie?

My Daddy

I know that all of you think that you have the best daddy in the world but you are wrong, because I do! And all of us children think that we are daddy's favorite child, but again, I know that I am his favorite :)

I wonder if I get my self assured~ness from him?

I love you daddy with all my heart.

The Daddy of my Boys

The Daddy of my

children's daddy.

(my FIL)

The Daddy of my

GRAND~girls.



HAPPY FATHER'S DAY

to all the wonderful fathers in my life.

I was suppose to go to church with my daddy today in Jacksonville, FL. He was singing in the choir at Stake Conference. Today was a special day in that they were dividing two Stakes into 3 stakes. I'm so sorry I missed hearing my daddy sing and witnessing history in the making. We got home last night around 8:30 pm from being gone 8 days. Sweetheart got out of the truck not feeling well and then started running a fever about an hour later. I'm not sure what is wrong but it could be accumulation of many things. He was only a little better this morning so we didn't drive the hour and a half. My sister and brother 's family got to be there and hear daddy sing with the choir.

I'm jealous but wouldn't leave Harry.

We vacationed with the GRAND~girls and their parents as well as Christon's mom and dad. We went to Branson, MO. We had a lot of fun but it was a long ride. All total around 2100 miles driven in the extreme heat. Again, glad to be home.

Hope you enjoy your Sunday.

Tasty Tuesday

Papa's Banana Pudding

Ingredients:

4-6 ripe bananas, mellow, not mushy

1 box of vanilla wafers

small can 8 oz of crushed pineapple

2 cups of cold milk, skimmed

1 large box INSTANT VANILLA pudding mix

1 tub of cool whip topping

Directions:

Make sure cool whip topping is thoroughly thawed. Place cut up bananas and wafers in layers in serving bowl. Save about 12-15 wafers and crumbs to decorate the topping. Mix together the crushed pineapple and its juice, 2 cups of cold milk and slowly stir in the instant vanilla mix, remember the box calls for 3 cups of milk but you are substituting 8 oz of pineapple & juice for one cup of milk. Then shake or beat with electric beater as directed on package, at least one and a half minutes, then pour evenly over the wafers and bananas. When the liquid has settled, spread the topping over the mixture. Add the saved wafers and add them in your own design and sprinkle on the crumbs. Best when chilled a few hours or over night in the fridge. Enjoy the taste and the compliments. Guaranteed!

Kathrine over at Smokey Mountain Cafe posted the most wonderful over the top Banana Pudding Recipe yesterday that I just couldn't believe. You've gotta check it out, so click here to do so. That started me thinking about my daddy's recipe for banana pudding. It's a family favorite and we all look forward to him bringing his to any family eating meeting!

Yum!

52 and counting!

HAPPY 52nd ANNIVERSARY!

Mama and Daddy

Thank you for your great example of enduring love.

By the way who do yall think I look

like, my mama or my daddy?

The Good Samaritan

I thought it was time for another one of my Daddy's stories !!

Many years ago I decided to take the three oldest girls to Georgia to visit Grandmother and Grandpappy Crenshaw for the weekend. Gigi was about 8, Sissy was about 7 and Carla was about 5. We had the old '65 Ford Falcon station wagon, the only new car we have ever bought. That car was just right for our growing little family. I could let down the back seat, throw in a single bed mattress and off we'd go, on trips, to the beach, and many evenings to the drive-in movie. Whenever we said we were going to Georgia for a visit or to a re-union, the kids would ask a hundred times, "Are we in Georgia yet?"

On this trip to see Grandmother and Grandpappy, we had a wonderful time visiting them, plenty of something good to eat like biscuits and Grandmothers yummy teacakes. I know they were good, Sam and I loved them growing up. They were so good we would even eat the raw dough.

When it became time for us to leave to go back to Florida, Grandmother always packed us some goodies to take along on the trip. As we pulled away out of the driveway Grandmother always started to cry, she did that with any of her children or grandchildren when they were leaving.

I drove over to Interstate 75 and headed south toward home. In a little while it started to rain, lightly at first then it poured down, hard enough that I began to use precaution and slowed down quite a bit. All of a sudden there was this woman standing in the median, soaking wet from the rain and waving for someone to stop and help her. All other cars were flying like crazy passed her so I slowed down and pulled over on the shoulder of the road and backed up. I rolled down the window and asked what was wrong. She said she had hit a puddle of water and her car skidded off the road. Well I couldn't even see a car because it was a deep ravine she had skidded into.

So I instructed the kids, who were all craning their necks to see what was going on and where her car was, to just stay in the car and NOT get out and I would go see if I could help her.

Sure enough it was a deep gully with a cement ditch going down to the bottom where the rainwater would drain into the sewer. She said her mother was in the car but they were both okay, just shook up a little. The place where the car sat was like a cement box and the car only had a couple of scratches on it.

I began to try to figure out how was the best way to get that car out. So I decided the Highway Patrol should come and investigate the accident before I moved that car. I knew there was a Patrol station about five miles back north so I climbed the hill to the north bound lane and flagged down a road department crew and asked them to send down a Patrolman.

I went back to the bottom of the ditch to think on the situation a little while longer. I got the idea that I could drive that car out of that ravine if she wanted me to. So I asked her what she thought of me trying to drive it out. She said yes, it would be all right. So when the Highway Patrolman finished his investigation, his suggestion was to call a wrecker. I told him that I thought I could drive it out and he said go ahead he didn't care.

So I got in the car and started it. I had enough room to back up a few inches and pull forward a few inches. After awhile I maneuvered around in that cement box to get the front end headed upward with the wheels on the left side of the car in the cement ditch for traction and sure enough I drove right the top of that ravine. When the traffic was clear I whipped out across the interstate and off the road.

When the Patrolman got all the info he needed, she got in the car and took off south on 75. Never even said thank you. The Patrolman told me it wasn't her car but a company car where her husband worked and she was not really supposed to be driving it and was worried about the trouble she and her husband would be in.

Well anyway, I had done my good deed for the day, so I climbed back in the old falcon and in about twenty minutes we crossed the state line and were in the State of Florida, with the kids asking, " when are we going to get home daddy?”

1965 Ford Falcon

My Daddy taught me to drive. We had a white 1965 Ford Falcon station wagon. It was the only new car my parents ever bought. It was a standard shift, 3 on the column. I loved that car! (White Fords must be in my blood because I drive a white Ford vehicle now.) That car would hold a lot of friends and sisters and brother. Only thing, the gas gage didn't work. So daddy taught me to figure out how many miles it would get to the gallon and then keep a check on the odometer and when it got close to those miles I would know to fill it up again. More than once I ran out of gas and daddy had to bring me some more. Those were the days when we didn't have cell phones. So running out of gas wasn't that convenient. But I had so much fun in that car. When I was growing up my parents would let down the back seat, throw in a single bed mattress and off we'd go, on trips, to the beach, and many evenings to the drive-in movie. Daddy would back into the parking spot and then he'd let down the tail gate and all 5 of us kids would lay there on our tummies and watch the movie. Mama and daddy would get out and sit in lawn chairs. I love drive in movies. They still have one in Jesup GA. and Harry and I've talked about going soon as they show something worth seeing.

Happy Father's Day

Happy Father's Day to my daddy!

What a wonderful example you have

always been in my life and the lives

of my children. You are truly loved

beyond measure and words can say.

and Happy Father's day to the

daddy of my children and

my sweetheart forever!

"WHOOPS"

Instead of delivering mail my dad now delivers flowers. This is a story he wrote about a little situation he got his self into. Enjoy!

I work part-time delivering flowers a couple of days a week. One day recently, I had a delivery to an area about 16 miles round trip. When it's far out, in an outlying area we call and make sure someone will be home. I called the phone number listed and could tell it was an elderly lady that answered. I identified myself and told her that I had flowers for her and asked for directions to her home. She told me she lived at 106 Cedar Street and told me how to get there. "It's right where those yellow barrels are beside the road. Turn right there on Cedar St. and come down to my house". I asked if her house number was where I could see it? "Yes." was her reply. As I approached the area, I easily spied the yellow barrels and the street sign. I turned right and drove down a dirt lane. The sign 106 was posted on the big oak tree . I turned in the driveway and pulled up in front of a trailer. There is a pickup truck in the yard and she had told me she had a little dog, but he would not bite. I could see a little dog sitting behind a plexi-glass door. Flowers in hand, I went to the door and knocked. The little dog just sat there and looked at me, no barking, just watching me. Not receiving a reply, I knocked two or three more times. Still no reply. I went back to my van, and dialed up the lady on my cell phone, and got a busy signal. I thought to myself, she must be way back in the back of the trailer on the phone and can't hear me. So I went back to the door and knocked very hard. The little dog just sat there and continued looking at me. Checking the screen door, I found it unlocked, so I stuck my head inside and call out, "Florist with your flowers." Still no one came. In all the waiting, I notice the coffee table, is only two steps from the door, so I eased in, placed the flowers on the table and eased out. As I was driving out the dirt lane, I called her on my cell phone to let her know I had left the flowers. When the phone rang, she answered right away and I told her I had left the flowers on her coffee table. She says, "I don't see any flowers". I asked her, "You do live at 106, don't you?" She said, "No I live at 105 Cedar St." OOPS! I quickly put the van in reverse and returned to the trailer where I had left her flowers. At the door, the little dog again watched me. I knocked, open the door and stuck my head in, still no one answered, so I eased in, retrieved the flowers and eased out, worried all the while, that the little pooch will run out the door. Relieved that I have the flowers back, I drive across the street to 105, where the little old lady and her little spotted dog are waiting on me. She was walking with the aid of a walker, so she ask me to sit them on 'her' coffee table, which I did, while trying to keep an eye on her little dog. He was all over the place, bouncing off chairs and sofa and barking like crazy. I apologized for the delay and told her what happened and everything is just fine. Mission accomplished, at last. Driving back to the shop, I began thinking what had just transpired, and reality kicks in, as I realize I could have been shot as a prowler for trespassing. But in this great nation of ours, a lot of people still feel free enough to leave their doors unlocked. Life is very interesting at times.

Billy S. Crenshaw

The Late Arriving Letter

Memories of a Letter Carrier

During the Vietnam war years I was delivering mail in our town, and on a regular occurrence I saw many letters that went off to our boys from their families and saw many coming back to families that I served on my mail route. I could immediately recognize those letters by the red stripes on the border around the envelope.

Many of our men and boys went off to fight in that war in the jungles of that far away Asian country that many of us had never heard of. The letters that went both ways were so important to both soldiers and their families.
There were also those sad times that military officers would come to the doors of homes to report that a son or husband or father had died in the service of their country.

One of our young boys by the name of William who had been to college. He'd trained in ROTC and enlisted in the army in support of our country in the fight for freedom. He was commissioned to a lieutenant in the army and sent off to war.

The letters started to come in from him and go out from the families. After a time, his parents were notified that he had been killed in action in those jungles. His body was returned to his hometown and buried with honors.

A few days after the funeral, I was delivering the family's mail and I was shocked to see I was delivering a letter to his parents that he had written before he had lost his life. I couldn't imagine how that mother and father felt as they opened that envelope and read their son's last letter to them. Every time I would deliver to that house at 826 So. 13th Street I would think about that letter. Even to this day I can't pass that house without thinking about "The Late Arriving Letter."
Written by mail carrier Billy S. Crenshaw, my daddy.

4 Brothers.

These Bricks are in the Pulaski County Veterans Memorial Park in Hawkinsville, Georgia. The top left one is for my daddy. The others are his brothers. They all are living except James E. Crenshaw, whom we called Uncle Jamie who died in an automobile accident. They all proudly served our country in the U.S Military.

Blackie The Mail Dog

“Blackie” or “Rex”, which ever you preferred to call him, was as faithful on Palatka’s City Route #1 as the blue clad mail carrier he followed for several years.“Blackie, as I called him, was just a plain mongrel, but seemed to have as much sense as some humans I’ve known.“Blackie” didn’t really belong to the regular carrier on that route, Mr. Max Musgrove, whom he followed year after year. His ownership was questionable at times, especially when it was learned that the police were looking for him, for at times “Blackie” did get into mischief.The Letter Carriers at the Palatka, Florida Post Office had been told that the dog origionally belonged to an old black woman, but at the time we knew him best, it was understood that he belonged to a white man who lived a few blocks from the Post Office.Though Mr. Musgrove claimed no ownership of “Blackie”, he probably gave him the better care that anyone else . For instance, each day as Max ate his lunch at a little grocery on his route, “Blackie” got his usual can of dog food, and some where along the way for a snack he was sure to get an ice cream bar.For all this generosity from Max. “Blackie” would perform as an exellent body-guard and dogs along the route, who had the idea of putting the ‘nip’ on the mail man, were quickly discouraged by faithful ole “Blackie”He also liked to have a little fun on his daily trek around the route with Max and as dogs will be dogs, he had a dislike for cats. As soon as they saw him coming you would see them scampering up a tree or scooting under a house. This dislike for the FELINE species was what almost got him ‘put away’, before his time. We never knew who reported him. It must have been some sweet little lady who treasured her cats dearly. Anyway, it seems that one of the lady’s cats was disposed of and “Blackie” got the blame. &nbs p; On hearing that the police were on the look out for “Blackie”, someone who loved him, got him out of town until the heat was off!!!But not much time had passed before “Blackie” was back on the job. Every morning , “Blackie” would plop himself down right in front of the entrance to the Post Office, for that is where he always waited for Max , rain or shine. He was a familiar sight to patrons calling for their early morning mail. They had to either walk around him or step over him to get in the door. And, the amazing thing about this is, that no matter how many people came in or went out the door, “Blackie” never followed anyone else away. Other mail carriers used the same door, but he only gave them a wag of his tail as if to say ‘Good morning’ and would immediately train his head back on the door where his daily friend would soon be coming out.When Max finally did come out the door heading out on his route, “Blackies” ears would perk up, and his tail would wag like a palm frond in a Florida hurricane. Then, you’d see a greeting between friends that looked as it they had not seen each other in months. After the greeting, off they would go on their daily trek, Max carrying his load of letters, magazines and such, and “Blackie” at his job of keeping the dogs at bay and the cats up a tree.Not that he was lazy by any means, “Blackie” was a very smart canine, for he knew how to get his rest and conserve energy along the route. At certain relay boxes, he would lie and relax underneath in the shade and wait while Max would deliver the mail up one side of the street and back down the other side, resting all the while, with one eye opened and one ear cocked, for any action he might have to take. Then as Max proceeded on to another street, up “Blackie” would hop and follow along.After years of carring a “foot route”, Max transferred to a mounted route and said good bye to “Blackie” as he would be delivering mail on the other side of town. Sadly he willed his good canine friend to his successor to City Route 1, Mr. Dave Broadway, but Max never lost is love and interest in “Blackie”Right away Dave and “Blackie” became good friends also, for Dave was no stranger to “Blackie”, having ‘subbed’ for Max on the route for some two years. It might well be said here that “Blackie was as faithful to the ‘subs’ on the route as he was to Max. When he was sure Max wasn’t coming out, he would catch up with whoever was making the rounds that day and take up his duties.After several months of companionship with Dave, the sad day came. We had missed seeing “Blackie” for about two weeks. A plea was published in the paper as to his where-a-bouts. But nothing came of it until I myself, was subbing on that route one day and was approached by an elderly black lady who had been fishing down on the river bank o f the St, Johns River. She inquired if we had located “Blackie” yet, and I said no that he was nowhere to be found. It was rather shocking at first and I didn’t really want to hear what she was about to tell me. She said that she was pretty sure she had seen the ‘remains’ of “Blackie” down on the banks of the river.After working my way around the route, I went down to the river to see for myself… It was true!! I had no doubt, there before me lay the tired old bones and collar of our friend “Blackie”. How he met his death will probably remain a mystery, for this life at least. His last known owner was notified and the rites for "Blackie” the Mail Dog”were taken care of there on the banks of the St. Johns River, only a few feet from where for years he had started his daily rounds with Max, Dave, and others that carried the mail on City Route 1.
Written in the 1970’s By mail carrier Billy S. Crenshaw

Let's don't and Say We Did!

"Let's don't and Say We Did!"

Now what kind of statement is that to tell your children?! But my parents, especially my silly daddy use to tell us that all the time! When ever we would ask to do something or asked to go somewhere he'd say,

"Let's don't and say we did!"

Well we got a little smart and after a while we realized that it works both ways and we would say back to them, "Let's Do and Say We Didn't!"

You know I've found that I also said that to my children and now I say the same things to my grandchildren. But when you think about it what kind of thing is that to say to a kid??

Here's another Mailman story that my daddy wrote.

It's a pretty funny one!

THE LONG LOST BASKETBALL

Did I ever tell y'all about the long lost basketball that Santa brought Sandy for Christmas one year? After opening his gift we took a perminate marker and wrote on it "Billy Sanford Crenshaw, Jr" on it two or three times. After a year or two it was never seen around the house anymore. One day while delivering mail on my route on Little Acre's Drive, I pull up to a mail box, put the mail in the box and notice a basketball on the ground outside a fenced yard. Something looked very familiar about it. After further examination of it, I could make out the name "Billy Sanford Crenshaw, Jr" on it. I said to myself, Well I'll be doggone, it's Sandy's basketball so I just toss it back into the mail truck and go on my way. Little did I know the lady of the house was watching me so when I got back to the post office that afternoon there was a note on my desk from the Post Master that said "See Me". We always cringed when we saw such a message. So I walk in 'on the Carpet' and he tells me that a women on my route called in and said the mailcarrier 'Stole' her son's basketball. I tried to explain that it had my son's name all over it. He said "Well you better go see her and straigten it out. So I go see the lady and she tells me she had bought the basketball at a yard sale for 50 cents. I asked her where the yard sale was and she said it was at the Gould's residents, around on Green Drive, a coule of blocks away(O.K. now I get it. Richy Gould was Sandy's best buddy). Well I offered to give her back the basketball or buy her son a new one, she was mad and would not have either.I asked Sandy about it and he said he had given the ball for the yard sale.I knew the lady, not real personal but when I saw her. She was a cashier at Publix where I usely shopped. One day, years later, I was going through her line and I asked her if she remembered the basketball incident and she laughed and said yes and we both got a good laugh from it. So maybe she forgave me for 'stealing' her son's basketball. Another of one of my many funny experiences or stories. Billy S. Crenshaw, 3/17/2008

"The Vanishing Mail Truck"One day on the mailroute I stopped at the very first house on the route. The mailbox was on the house next to the door and no more than 15 feet from the curb. I dismounted the with mail and walked up to the house, when I turned to go back to the truck, it was not there, vanished, capute, gone. I say to myself, "What the hey, where's my mailtruck?" I look to the left, nothing, to the right and there it was in the yard of the next house, stopped by a huge oak tree. Some how it had jumped out of 'Park' into gear and rolled off. I walk over inspect it and the front right bumper was bent back almost to the tire. Since it was not touching tire, I continued on my route till I got to this service station. I asked the guy if he had a sledge hammer, yes, he said in the garage. With seven or eight good shots I had it back to almost perfect. I thank the guy and went on my way, no harm done, not even to the oak tree. Just another day in the life of our U.S.Postal Carriers.Love Y'all,Papa