Tidbits August 4
























  I’ve become a regular beach bum.




  In a month’s time I’ve made three trips to and from the beach, putting over 1200 miles on my vehicles. I could have drive from New York to Miami!




  Getting all the family together like we used to has become almost impossible, with all the commitments, children, etc.




  We chose the third week in July this year, because that was the only time our Parris relatives could go.




  My Uncle Keith Parris and his son Kevin played golf in Spartanburg on a Tuesday about six weeks ago. Keith had his regular check-up on Wednesday and had heart by-pass surgery on Friday.




  Keith is doing fine. He said he asked his doctor, since it took him 82-years to develop heart artery blockages, did the operation make him good for another 82 years?




  Keith was at the beach, but Kevin and I did not have the opportunity to get beat by an octogenarian on the golf course, as happens each year




  Kevin and I played Eastport Sunday and I was so bad, I didn’t even putt on the last three holes. I forfeited.




  I drove home Sunday, and before I left the beach I asked my nephew Morgan Jones if he wanted me to bring his golf clubs back (he didn’t have room in the car to bring them when he came down Saturday). He said, "Yes."




  After getting the paper out Monday and Tuesday morning, I returned to the beach.




  Wednesday, Morgan joined Kevin and me as we played Eagle’s Nest.




  Tuesday afternoon Dibbie, Morgan and I set out antiqueing. Two of our regular antique shops, however, were closed .. for good.




  We stopped by Dick’s Pawn Shop and found its antique shop was closed, too.




  While in the building, Morgan found a barrel filled with golf clubs with a sign carrying the message, "Make us an offer."




  Morgan picked out two fairway woods and made an offer of $4.00 each.




  "Congratulations," the salesman said. "We have people that come up and offer us $25 for a club, and we take it, but we really take whatever people offer."




  Morgan used his $4.00 clubs to easily win the day’s match on Wednesday.




  The highlight came when my layup shot on a hole went into the water.




  I was surprised when I got to the water hazard and saw there was no water where my ball was sitting. I had a clear shot to the green.




  Because I was standing surrounded by beautiful cypress trees, I told Morgan to video my shot. Cypress trees are usually in the water.




  I took aim, swung and my golf ball hit not one, not two, but three trees and the ball headed backwards, directly at Morgan!




  It was an "America’s Greatest Home Video" moment. Morgan posted the video on Facebook and Instagram, and it generated a lot of laughs, needless to say.




  After missing Morgan with that shot, I actually hit him with a ball on the next hole!




  Midway through my second round, I figured out what I was doing wrong, and actually played better the rest of the way. I hit a monster drive on one hole (playing from the golds), and actually got a par, something I only did one more time during the week.




  If I played more than three times a year, I might play better, but by the time I play again, I’ll probably forget what I was doing wrong.




  Along with beating his elder relatives, taking a hilarious video, getting hit by my ball, Morgan, for the first time in his life, did not lose a golf ball.




  To put that into perspective, I lost ten on Sunday.




  Morgan loves to eat, and takes off by himself for supper at the beach.




  While I was home he took in a sushi buffet. As I’ve said before, I don’t even like cooked fish, so raw fish is not for me. I have eaten sushi, and it was not awful.




  One night, Morgan asked me if I wanted to go with him to a German restaurant.




  I’m 65-years-old and I had never been to German restaurant, even though I am at least three-eighths German.




  When we got to the restaurant, the accordion players was playing "Danny Boy," one of the greatest Irish songs ever. He eventually played "Edelweiss," which I believe is Austrian.




  I ordered Bratwurst, which I’ve had before. Sides included German potato salad, marinated cucumbers, mashed potatoes and sauerkraut.




  Morgan ordered a "wurst" variety. We discovered one of the sausages was a big hot dog wiener. All the food was great, and we vowed to return next year.




  Dibbie and Mayson planned the color scheme of the annual dress in similar colors beach photograph.




  One Tuesday a few weeks ago, Dibbie came by and showed me a picture of the dress she, Mayson and Mayson’s one-year-old daughter Emoree were wearing. It had coral, white and gray horizontal stripes.




  I told Dibbie that earlier in the afternoon, I bought a coral and white shirt with horizontal stripes. When I unfolded the shirt, I discovered it had a third color - gray! I bought a matching shirt before I knew what I had to match!




  We had fun. Trying to get Deacon, 6, Madden, 4, and Emoree, 1, to smile at the same time was challenge. Dibbie, Mayson, Jason, Morgan and the children all ran into the ocean after the photos were taken.




  As photographer I missed out on that fun.




  My sister Elizabeth came down for a few days. We were at Cherry Grove, and her son Jacob, his wife Tamara and their daughter Willow were in Garden City, but they all decided they were too far apart to get together. Now, that’s what traffic does.




  I had lunch with Ryan Metts the Friday before I left for the beach and he showed me what the Pokemon Go craze was all about. Naturally, I downloaded the app. Ryan has a way of getting me to watch TV shows, read books, etc., and I get hooked, then he quits watching the TV shows and reading the books.




  When I got to the beach, I quickly learned Deacon was a Pokemon expert. I learned what a Pokestop was and by the end of the week, I was loading up on Pokeballs.




  When I got home Saturday, this old man circled the block when I found out St. Paul UMC was a Pokestop. I hear the Courthouse is a hot spot, too. I am so juvenile, and proud of it!




  During the week, I read "Extreme Prey," by John Sandford. This makes the 26th straight vacation, I read one of Sandford’s "Prey" books.




  I picked a good day to miss the beach when I came home on   Monday. Deacon and Emoree developed ear infections, and both threw up for most of the day.




  I’m one of those people that if I see someone throw up, I feel obligated to throw up, too.




  I enjoyed the week at the beach with the Donlon, Jones, Shealy , Turner crowd in one house and Keith, Louise, Kevin, Melissa, Katie and Sarah Parris at the other house two blocks away.




  As usual, the Monday following vacation was not fun!














  It been a sad few weeks at Emory Church.




  We’ve seen the deaths of Pat Rodgers, whose grandparents are buried there, Donald Winn, and this week we lost Harold "Mack" Matthews, who grew up in the church.




  He was four years older, but we had some good times in our youth.




  One Sunday, my first cousin Johnny Shealy arranged for Harold to lead us on a tour of the Bonham Cemetery.




  Harold’s’ family owned Flat Grove, or the Bonham House, as we know it today.




  Bonham Smonham. As a child, I called it Aunt Anna’s house. Anna Matthews was not my aunt (we were distant cousins, and part of why Johnny said he was his own seventh cousin), but she was my first cousins Johnny and Thomas’ aunt, so I called her Aunt Anna, too.




  Harold lived across the road from the big house and was very familiar with the cemetery.




  I was 12-years-old old and was in awe to see in the middle of a Saluda Couny farm pasture the graves of the parents of an Alamo hero and a governor of South Carolina.




  It may have been on that hike that Jamie screamed as we waded in the creek.




  I asked him what was going on, and he said a snake just swam between my legs.




  I thank the Lord to this day that I didn’t see that snake.




  Johnny documented everything. He took pictures and typed up a story of what we did that day, and put them in a folder. I asked Thomas at church Sunday to see if he could find it.




  That was a special day in my youth.




  Years later, Harold’s brother Carl donated the Bonham House to the Saluda County Historical Society. I knew the house’s significance by then.




  I was an adult when I heard someone mentioned Mack Matthews and I said, "Who?"




  I’d never heard Harold called "Mack."




  No matter his name, he was a fine man with a great personality, who was a friend to so many in Saluda County.




  He will be greatly missed.