GOOD MORNING, FRIENDS

A Rememberamble for September 25, 2025

"Great gods from At'-lanter (Atlanta), is shore is hot!" That is what my grandpa Peebles would say, and he would have been correct concerning yesterday. It is normal for us to have schizophrenic weather when the season's change approaches. The outgoing season and the incoming one play hopscotch, indian wrassle, pitch pennies, bet whose Coke bottle was bottled the furthest away, and play mumblety peg with big knives over who gets any one particular day in the run-up to the change. It is technically four-seasonal menopause, I "bleebe" science calls it.

By the way, henceforth I might choose to dispense with all of the many sets of quotation marks I use to denote colloquial or personal spellings of words, in order to show that I am not stupid and simply misspelling words. I am weary of both quotation marks as well as commas. I will continue to misuse commas, as always. Be advised that I will dispense with the quotation marks for weird southern-spoken...or misspoken words...words, please tell your friends so they will not overestimate, nor underestimate the level of my "ignernce." Oops, there I go, still "doin" it..."dangit," stop me before I quotation mark again!

I reckon we will belay that new "negatorianess" on the quotation marks, "atter" all, I am too "afeared," that I will "come off as" dumb as I look, and we can't have that. Changing topics, if you know how Pat Dye is doing, please update me and Pat's other friends here in the comments. Something I thought about at supper last night, as I used my pepper grinder to pepper my plate, was why a friend and a few others objected to using black pepper. A lady-friend liked black pepper but had long before sworn it off, because she read that the peppercorns were cellulose and we cannot digest cellulose.

I asked her what that had to do with not enjoying black pepper. She said again, "because we can't digest it." I asked, okay, how is that a bad thing or harmful? She said that she did not know, but assumed it must be, since we can't digest it, that it was best not to consume it. I pointed out that it is 100% totally harmless to eat small amounts of a substance like cellulose (wood fiber), because we eat many things that we cannot digest if not, we would not need an intestinal tract to dispose of those things. You know what I am talking about...doodie, I am speaking of doodie.

She laughed at herself, and I assured her it was safe to return to enjoying some black pepper on her food. Why do I use the word "doodie" so often? It tickles babee Conway, lil Merle just rolls his eyes...sorry, his EYE! By the way, if you see a big, family pack, sack of quotation marks and or commas on sale at the Sims Store, Sears, Roebuck or Woolworth's let me know. I was talking to Matt about biplanes, and my lifetime love of them. I guess you know that in addition to Matt being a television and radio broadcaster, multiple Murrow Award winning journalist, founder of History Worth Saving Podcast, and founder of Warbird Radio.

As well as our current ventures, he is a pilot, airplane owner, and the premier professional air show announcer in all of North America, Australia, and France, not necessarily in that order. I am not joking, our Matt has and is living a life filled with celebrity and major accomplishments. Google him, you will see for yourself. Matt travels the world, makes time for his wife and family, and for us too. He and his wife are amazing. Oh, yeah, I was talking about biplanes, I have loved them since I was a boy. I was afraid of heights then too, one Saturday we were in Columbus visiting our sister and her family.

Daddy decided that he would drive us boys to the airport and see about getting someone to take me up in an airplane. That was about fifty-five years ago, and the airport was a small affair. There was a small single engine airplane, probably a Cessna, and there was a white, not too-shabby 1940s, WWII vintage Stearman open cockpit, two seater biplane sitting beside it. Daddy asked the man if he could take me up for about a half-hour, and he called his pilot buddy over and asked if he minded taking me on my first flight. They settled on the price, and he was glad to he said, we would go up in the newer plane.

I asked excitedly if we could fly in the biplane, and he said yes, and daddy said fine, so I was a happy boy indeed, already my fear was fading. You may not know that in those open cockpit biplanes, although both seats have flight controls, the pilot generally sits in the back seat, as the visibility is better, and critically so when landing. So, a passenger sits in the front seat, just behind the big odd-number cylinder radial engine and prop., It is loud, very loud. I had to wear a parachute, and the pilot strapped me in to the seat, as he strapped himself in after.

The airplane had two sets of controls, consisting of a stick, used to climb or descend, and a left and right pedal that controlled the rudder and used to turn left or right. That was it, and there were three gauges, an altimeter, air speed indicator, and an oil pressure gauge. It had no generator to charge a battery, but it was required to have a radio, so a twelve volt car battery was sitting on the floor with wires running to the radio. They kept the battery charged with a charger, or at least they were supposed to. I was so excited as we started taxiing toward the runway.

The pilot stopped, and turned the plane around, and taxied back to the parking area by the hanger. He told me the battery was dead, and he could not take off without a radio. I was so dejected, so it was back to the sorry, no fun at all, closed cabin, run of the mill, monoplane. Seeing how sad I was, the pilot asked daddy if we could come back in about an hour, when they could have the battery charged, and still fly the biplane. Daddy agreed, and we drove around for a while and came back. After returning, the pilot put my parachute on me, got me buckled into the front seat, and off we went, yes, using that old line, off into the wild blue yonder.

My fear of flying was left lying on the ground. As the pilot, who was a very nice man, loved having fun, and was dedicated to making sure I would truly have a great time, moved his controls mine moved also of course. He let me fly it a little, and that was a true joy, then he asked if I wanted to have some real fun, (communication was not easy, as the noise was intense and the wind in the open cockpits whipped your voice away quickly, but we managed) and I said yes, he took me at my word and we did inside loops, barrel rolls, steep climbs and dives, he evidently was a stunt pilot, and loved it.

Before going back to the airport he flew us over my sister's house on Celia Drive where mama and the women and kids were sitting in the backyard, and actually buzzed the house. When we were back at the airport, he had one more trick up his sleeve, and landed on the grass beside the runway, rather than on it. He yelled for me to tell him if I saw any stumps, he was joking, as he had landed there before. I loved it. Since then I have flown in small planes, a couple of helicopters, and flown airlines a good bit years ago. Since a great friend, Don Braswell Jr., was killed with three others in January of 1995, in a small plane crash.

I have not flown in small aircraft since, only on an airline. My old fear of flying is back to stay I guess. Matt has a fine old restored 1956 De Haviland former Canadian Air Force open cockpit Moth, monoplane, he has two actually but flies one, and flew to my house a few years ago. I was not home, and missed the visit. I will go up with him in it, if he ever gets a chance to take me up. Well, this one ran very long, so let me go, and know we love you.

NUMBERS 6: 24-26 KJV

We boyz three, babee conway, lil merle, & me