Bess Tuggle's Memoirs of Surviving Children: Cherishing New Memories in the New Normal

Covid-19. Covid-19. Covid19. That’s -all- you ever hear about anymore. Sheltering in place might be a pain in the arse, but it brings back memories and is creating some new, often hilarious, ones for me.

My youngest, Thing 4 (for those that don’t know or remember, I never mention names; I call them “Things,” in birth order, with thanks to Dr. Seuss’ “Cat in the Hat”) has been a foodie since he was born. This child is -serious- about his food! He could make his own grits, and let me sleep in, by the time he was three. I’d put 1 tablespoon of grits in a bowl, put the tablespoon next to the bowl and leave it on the kitchen counter. He -knew- the number 3, his age (and how I remember it). Three tablespoons of water in the bowl. Mix it up. Drag out the step-stool, put his bowl in the micro, and hit the “3” button on the front. He got his grits and he was -happy-! And so was I. It was a rare occasion I got to sleep in back then.

As he got older, he got better – and worse. His nickname became “Hoover.” This child didn’t eat his food, he -inhaled- it! He also couldn’t keep his fingers out of a bowl or pot while I was cooking. Just so you know, that doesn’t cut it in my kitchen and by then he was too big to spank.

The older he got, the worse he got. When he’s home, we don’t feed him (or my step-son) steak. It’s not tasted, savored or enjoyed. It’s inhaled! Chicken ‘n dumplins? His favorite. Try to cook a pot while he’s sneaking the chicken as I roll out the dumplins. Brownies, cookies – same thing. He -has- to have his fingers in the bowl. A good one is pecan pie. It’s one of his favorites. When I bake them I always make two out of necessity. He is -going- to grab one and lick it! That’s his way of insuring that’s “his” pie! All his, only his.

Now that he’s stationed in Okinawa, the fun, and food, continues. The child -loves- sushi. LOVES it! He’s told me it’s much better, and cheaper, than state-side. He can eat his weight in sushi every single day. He’s 6’2” and -all- muscle. That’s a LOT of sushi!

But, with the “sheltering in place” he has to spend more time at home – with his wife and daughters. They’re there with him. I love the pictures of him playing on the playground with his girls. The smile on his face is -priceless-! What I really laugh about is his wife, Thingette 4. Bless her heart…

My daughter-in-law has decided to learn how to bake. I applaud her for it! Especially learning with two little girls (a 2 year old and a 6 month old) to care for. She’s enjoying it, too! I’m more than willing to share recipes with her and looking forward to them coming back state-side so we can bake together. But, aside from the girls, she’s learning to bake with her husband, my youngest monster, in the house. He still can’t keep his fingers out of a bowl or pot. She’s gone deeper into baking than I’ve ever thought about. Can make a good pecan pie, too! I sent the recipe. How she made it with the monster in the house is beyond me.

I suggested locking the kitchen door, but that won’t work. Two entrances to the kitchen. Only one has a door (ours has two entrances and -no- doors). I think she could use a paddle, but he’s twice her size. Even if she can -keep- him out of the kitchen, that doesn’t mean he won’t “thunder” through the house. He’s a bull in a china shop. Anyone that’s ever had a cake fall from “stomping” through the kitchen will understand this frustration.

I could go on and on… LOVE the snippets I get from Japan.

All this to say: New memories are being made. Enjoy them. It’s been a time to re-connect, even if it’s at a distance. Cherish it. Learn more about friends that you’ve never met in person… Maybe it -was- about time for a re-set. Looking forward to the world on the other side of it. I have to believe it’ll be much kinder and gentler.

- Bess Tuggle 

[Fred Wheeler] - Let's Not Make a Habit of This

Hi,

Americans generally believe our governmental system embraces certain characteristics such as individual liberty, freedom of speech and association, the rule of law, a market economy, etc. However, during times of stress (usually at times of war) our government has strayed from these customs. Thankfully these departures have been few and, for the most part, not habitual.

When the ink on the U.S. Constitution was hardly dry, Congress, fearing an impending war with France, passed the Alien and Sedition Act which forbade criticism of the government. Among others, a congressman was found guilty and was forced to run for re-election from a prison cell.

Prior to the Civil War Lincoln had the members of the Maryland legislature arrested and jailed to prevent them from voting to secede. During the war he suspended Habeas corpus and closed down over 300 newspapers.

Following our entrance into  World War 1, Congress passed the Espionage Act under which over 2,000 people were imprisoned. One of these was a candidate for president, Eugene Debs. This law (amended) is still on the books.

During War War II Roosevelt interred over 120,000 Japanese- Americans in concentration camps. One of the worst parts of this action was that before the people were herded into the camps they were given just 48 hours to dispose of their homes and businesses. It obviously was a buyers' market.

Less than two months after 9/11 Congress passed the Patriot Act. We still are finding out what mischief the NSA and FBI can commit  under it.

Now, we are under the arbitrary provisions of Shelter in Place. It depends on what state you live in, but people are being arrested for walking their dog, going to church, playing pitch with their daughters. In Michigan you can go to the store, but you can't buy paint, plants or seeds.

Once this is over we will have an opportunity to look back and reassess what should have been done and, most importantly, what should not have been done. Perhaps we won't be so quick to suspend so many of our cherished core values next time.

- Fred Wheeler

A Letter to the Editor by Bess Tuggle

LETTER TO THE EDITOR

Sent to...

Dear Editor:

You owe my doctor a call. He’s apparently finally got my blood-pressure medicine tweaked just right. If not, I would have -blown- a gasket after reading your Sunday post! I -LOVE- my TPC!!!

Glad you’re getting your head screwed back on right. Don’t back down! Scum always settles back to the bottom of the pond if you don’t give it anything to feed on.

Lost my news outlets when my identity got stolen, but slowly getting back on top of it. I should be able to write my weekly review -and- my regular kiddo piece for next week. I’m coming back! If you don’t like ‘em, scroll on by. I miss writing.

While I deleted my Easter piece (you owe my husband an apology – he had to put up with a bummed-out wife for a day), this Covid-19 is providing ALL kinds of new material for writing about my children, and life in general. Schools are shut down, day care is shut down.. and -they- actually have to raise their kids! What a -shock-! They’re learning to -cook- too! From my end it’s hilarious! They’re finally starting to appreciate what their Mama, and most of us old folk, lived. I think they’re starting to enjoy it, too.

You have no idea of the relief I felt when I read that TPC will continue on. I still plan to kick you in the knee next time I see you.

Bess 😊

PS: I got a suggestion from a friend for when homeschooling resumes (shelter in place has shut us down for the moment). We will start each “school” day with the Pledge of Allegiance. I hope other parents/grandparents do the same!

- Bess Tuggle 

TPC Chief Staff Writer, Correspondent & Contributing Writer 

Bess Tuggle

A jack of all trades, Ms. Tuggle has been a Covington resident since the late 70’s. She's been a K-Mart cashier, cabinet builder, vet tech, office manager for a beef cattle ranch and water well company (where she was able to hold benefits for D.A.R.E. and Scouts), a court reporter, business manager, assistant at a private investigation firm, legal assistant, convenience store clerk, landscaper and elementary school substitute teacher.  Her greatest pleasure is being a wife, mother and grandmother.  Her stories are all real, and all names will be withheld to protect the innocent, and also maybe the guilty, depending on the crime & the Statute of Limitations.  

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Click here to read a sampling of Bess's columns 

The Piedmont Chronicles

Your Source for the REAL Story

[Perrin Lovett] - It Was Bound To Happen (Again)

Hey! Did ya hear about the dead guy they pulled out of the harbor? He’d been shot twenty-seven times, hanged, burned, and dragged behind a car before being encased in concrete and tossed in the water. Dr. Fauci said it was the worst case of Corona he’s seen yet...

Ah! It was Sunday morning. Easter Sunday and Tournament Sunday! I woke up happy. Outside the window, the sun was shining and all the little birds and lizards were carrying on as if nothing was amiss. Therefore, I discounted as a bad dream what I thought had befallen me on Saturday. 

In my dream, wanting to do a little writing amidst a different setting, I had driven to the local Starbucks. But, it was closed. So, I went to the public library, only to find it also closed. Next, I ventured over to the old cigar shop. It too was closed. I tried the bar. Closed. The other bar. Closed. The gym. Closed. Bookstore. Closed. As I drove around, I noticed that just about every single business was shuttered. There were few souls about. Disheartened as I wondered how any of these essential businesses could possibly survive, I wanted some comfort food. The grocery store was open! But, at the front door, standing beside a roped-off queue, was a manager in a hazmat suit. When I approached, he yelled something about “one more!” into a walkie-talkie. Peering inside, I saw a host of sullen, frightened, mask-wearing zombies shuffling around like cattle while trying to follow arrows taped to the floor. The intercom screeched about “saaaaaaaafety.” I left.

But, it was all a dream, I thought. So, I ate breakfast and headed over to Saint Mary’s for Easter Mass. However, I found the front (and side) doors locked. Posted conspicuously was a sign which informed me that no services would be held “for the duration.” It instructed that none were permitted inside and that I was to “seek shelter immediately,” although I was free to drop a monetary offering through the mail slot. The sign also encouraged me to join, via the fake reality of television, “pope” Bergoglio for a fake mass complete with fake communion. 

Desiring something real, something orthodox, I drove down the street to Saint Ignatius Melkite Church. The real deal, I thought! Their door was unlocked, but when I tried to enter, I was met by a Deacon wearing a gas mask. He bore me backward with a Lexan police shield and ordered me off: “Join us on Facebook!” he invited - if one could call it that. I heard the door lock from inside as I staggered sideways toward the street.

Sensing that something was definitely wrong, I decided to try one of the churches in protest. Alas, each - Methodist, Baptist, Lutheran, Episcopal, even the rock ‘n roll warehouse joint - were closed down. A few allegedly offered something online. All, it seemed, were still willing to accept cash in-person - the cash, but not the person. I’d heard that in other states, they were arresting and hunting Christians (well, the few they could find anymore) so I assumed this absence was defensive if overly reactionary. But downtown, I finally found a working preacher, or what I mistook for one. It turned out he was just a crazy homeless character, ranting away on a corner. His “sermon” centered around little green men trying to take his bottle. He, too, was accepting of fiscal donation.

I took matters into my own hands and simply said a prayer. As if in answer, the notion came immediately to my brain that I could head to the National and get a better parking space. I knew that I couldn’t purchase a beer until after noontime, but I figured I could watch practice chips and wander through the gift shop while I waited. So, off I went, excitedly wondering if Tiger could pull it off again.

It was eerie. The only traffic I passed, coming off the Calhoun Expressway onto Washington Road, was a tumbleweed. I indeed found the very best parking space, the one immediately adjacent to the main patron gate. It was me and me alone in the vast, grassy parking lot under the pines. And, like the churches, the gate was closed and locked. I was reading a sign that said something about “try us in November, if any of us survive,” when a loud, tinny voice spoke from behind at a distance. It was a Sheriff’s deputy barking disjointedly into his car’s loudspeaker. He said something about “shelter in place” or, it might have been “save yourself,” and then he departed at a high rate of speed as if the virus itself was after him. 

Bewildered, I went home. After lunch, I decided to put out a few signs of my own. With colorful chalk, uh, donated by the kids next door, I set about leaving inspirational messages on the sidewalk for my fellows. I wrote, “It’s A Hoax!” I was in the process of scribbling out, “COVID is Chinese for Big Lie,” when it started raining. All my work was washed away.

Anthony Fauci is the Chicken Little of epidemiology though I think he actually believes some of his own hysteria. Well, really, he’s a chicken little with the guns of a police state behind him. But anyway, he does bring to mind Mencken’s warning: “The urge to save humanity is almost always only a false-face for the urge to rule it.” You’ve probably thought this through, already, and if so, you’re right. The odds that the government which hasn’t told the truth about anything in 150 years is finally telling the truth about a cold bug are somewhere between zero and absolute zero. They literally label homicide victims, terminal cancer cases, suicides, and heart attacks as Corona “related” deaths. And they still can't get the numbers high enough. Meanwhile, the Monopoly money flows and the economy burns.

Yet and still, for whatever reason, the masses have fallen for the predictable lunacy once again. The elites aren’t just covering for the monetary mess they made; they’re angling for total control of the population. Two hundred years ago, the population would have, by now, strung them all from lampposts. Today, the people play along, even getting ahead of the “leaders” in a mad rush to impose solitary confinement on themselves and to sacrifice any remaining vestiges of liberty. 

Mencken, again: “The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed (and hence clamorous to be led to safety) by menacing it with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary.” The man said, “Boo!” so get to clamoring, cattle. As Jerome Adams might say, “do it fo yo pop-pop!” The alert is extreme! See:

Moments before my heat vision incinerated the phone. Picture © by Perrin Lovett. 

Patrick Henry said something about forgetting God and forging chains. Sam Adams hoped the chains would set lightly upon the would-be slaves. I’d just as soon see the chains used as whips to drive our “elites” far, far away. (I’ll likely sooner see the green man who stole Preacher’s bottle). So, this is what a late-stage Empire in terminal decline looks like during its very last days. Cool! I’ll have national affairs to write about forever, or until such time as I make like the yinshi. 

What’s next? Let’s see… I think I’m first going with the laughable closure of the failed government schools. There’s a lot going on, theoretically, though very little, educationally. There’s the new normal and all the fun it brings. And, will it be Venezuela, Iran, Russia, China, some other innocent target, or a combination thereof? Time will tell and you’ll read it here.

- Perrin Lovett

[Kayla Leasure] - A Positive PSA

I know lately the ever so changing of these unpredictable times can be frustrating, financially draining, and, well, just plain upsetting; however, I feel that maybe this is the time to reflect on what things we've been taking for granted & perhaps those we've been taking for granted as well.

I know most of us can't afford to take time off but maybe that's exactly what our bodies and minds needed.  We can take this time to finish those long overdue chores, organize the closets, play with our pets, and finally watch that movie you been talking about for months now.

Let's think things through and take a deep breath. It's going to be okay, change can be good.

- Kayla Leasure

A Letter to the Editor by Tom Ironsides: Celebrate Life & Hug Your Children

Dear Mr. McCart:

Greetings. I do not think we have ever met, such are my strange interactions with the "real" world. I was asked to write something for you publication by our mutual friend, Perrin Lovett, whom I have cc'd if for no other reason than to stem his incessant pestering. It is my understanding that he is working on another of his usual columns for next week (and, for that, I am blameless). The attached submission (DOC and PDF) is not what I gather he was interested in. However, as noted in the letter, it kind of sprang into my heart more than my mind. While it is admittedly a little out of my character as some know it, I hope it is sufficiently interesting. If so, then I concluded it with a brief bio, lifted from my college faculty page (my apologies, but the picture would not transfer). The title, while provided by me, is ultimately your call. I ask only that my email address or other direct contact information NOT be included with the letter.

As an aside, Mrs. Tuggle's weekly work is always interesting and delightful. Please pass that message along to her. The rest is certainly ... something. Thank you.

Sincerely,

Tom Ironsides

PS: Go Cavs!

### 

Celebrate Life And Hug Your Children

Dr. Thomas H. Ironsides, II

Dear Mr. McCart and Friends:

My acquaintance and your colleague, Mr. Lovett, asked or begged me to write something regarding late events, both biological and geo-political. Some of my experience and opinion I understand he has recently relayed, and more of which I believe he is currently imagining. Personally, I have just about had it with my house arrest, which to my great credit, I have been breaking on a regular basis. No apologies to Sheriff Hagaman. So, of that, I have little more to say or to think. Instead, as I was instructed to write “from the heart,” I will tell you a story. It’s a little late in coming back to my mind, however, it is perfectly fitting for this Easter Season.

On the afternoon of Friday, February the 14th, I was entertaining myself in the quaint downtown of my adopted Blowing Rock. Happening upon the wonderful Art and History Museum, and having never ventured therein, I decided to peruse the galleries. Immediately, I stumbled upon what I at first took for a community party. Soon, I realized it was a public wake for a local dignitary. Someone informed me that it was not, in fact, a funeral; rather, it was a celebration. And so, I would like to share some of that experience and brave spirit with you.

The woman of the hour, of the day, was a little girl. Her name was Bexley Svana Moffat and she was only a few months into the ripe young age of two years when she unexpectedly succumbed to leukemia. Please read her unusual and heartening obituary, as linked, courtesy of the Austin and Barnes Funeral Home: 

https://austinandbarnesfuneralhome.com/tribute/details/2230/Bexley-Moffatt/obituary.html#tribute-start

According to Saint Jude Children’s Research Hospital, approximately American 3,000 children are diagnosed with leukemia every year. Around ninety percent enter into remission and are effectively cured within ten years of the onset of aggressive treatment. Why is the minority taken by this accursed disease? Most can imagine the horror of losing a precious baby. Some of us, unfortunately, know the shock and lasting pain, first-hand. In dread times such as these, we do well to remember our temporal existence in and on the physical Earth. As hard as it is to fathom, sometimes the little ones are more needed elsewhere. Our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, said, “Let the little children come to Me, and do not hinder them, for the Kingdom of Heaven belongs to such as these.” Matthew 19:14. 

Well, from the very little I know, and as you may readily gather from that infectious photograph, it is a much brighter day in Heaven. That face and especially those big, blue eyes say, “Hello! I’m sweet though a bundle of fun trouble!” The parting message left for us first-person by Bexley, notes that among the things she loved the most were her mommy and daddy, her grandparents, and her puppies. You just know each was the world among the others. 

It’s fascinating, to me, that I write about this brief encounter, particularly as I consider its context in my life. Why am I still here? For decades, I walked hand-in-hand, as a partner, with death. My own demise could have easily found me a hundred times over and yet it did not. I surmise the Almighty must require bubbly sweethearts more urgently than gruff, stubborn jarheads. (Who could blame Him?) And I could have told you a similar story about Gloria, but after thirty years, my words still fail me. I trust Bexley understands both my ponderings and my discourse.

This adorable little stranger-friend whom I never knew has given me the strength and the joy to look upon otherwise unspeakable tragedy as the celebration of the eternal. For this Miracle, I might deem her Saint Bexley (though I think she is not one for formal pretense).

I leave you with the following thoughts: our days, currently, have about them a bleak disposition. Some of us are sick. Some are scared. Some are unemployed. We lack a certain direction or purpose. Yet, it is all but temporary tribulation. Just as the Mightiest Son rose for us, so the smallest daughter helps us to raise our darkened spirits. So, right now, go on and hug your children - of any age. Leave a social distance between you that you couldn’t slip a piece of paper through. 

Thank you and may God bless you,

Tom Ironsides

[dthi/fac.jpg] Dr. Thomas H. Ironsides, II (Ph.D., Harvard) is Professor of Classics at Saint Thomas of Aquino College. When not teaching Roman philosophy and culture, he is also President of the American Classical Education (ACE) Center. He previously retired as a Paramilitary Operations Officer and Acting Deputy Director of the Special Activities Division, National Clandestine Service, United States Central Intelligence Agency and as a Colonel with the United States Marine Corps. Given his experiences, he is adamantly opposed to gratuitous warfare and attendant international usury. Currently, with an aching back and sore thumbs, he attempts to build by hand a small cabin.

[Fred Wheeler] - Close Enough for Government Work

The first time I heard it was 51 years ago at Ft.Hood, Texas.. Lt. Vaught of B Battery was laying the battery of six 155mm howitzers. He closed up the aiming circle and with some satisfaction said, "That's close enough for government work." I suppose the people who put the models together predicting anywhere from 2 million to 150,000 American deaths from the Wuhan Virus and the people who pay them $millions of dollars for this must think that's close enough. There's a palm reader near Conyers on I-20 who probably could be more precise and she only charges 10 bucks.

The Media gleefully announced Friday that the Virus, at 1,904 per day, is now the leading cause of daily American deaths. They better enjoy it while they can because this phenomenon won't last long. Heart attacks kill 1,774 per day and cancer deaths are 1,641. The CDC is predicting that now the grand total for the Virus is projected to be 61,000. That's far short of the annual totals of 647,457 for heart attacks and 599,108 for cancer. The regular flu total is 55,672.

Some claim that the official tally is under counting the true mortality figures; others counter that they are overstating the numbers. I have a solution. It's somewhat imprecise, but we've already determined that of all the adjectives associated with the Virus (terrible, vicious, tragic, pandemic, apocalyptic) precise is not one of them.

It's reported that people who die at home are not being counted--only those who succumb in the hospital. We also hear that people who are dying in nursing homes and hospitals with underlying conditions are summarily added to the Virus total. They  are reported to get paid more for that--even more if the patient has been on a respirator.

We know that approximately 2,500,000 Americans die each year (this does not include those killed in abortion clinics). As we've said, 647,457 from heart attacks, 599,108 from cancer, 169,936 from accidents, 146,383 from stroke, 55,672 from the flu, 47,173 from suicide, all the way to 800 from getting tangled up in their bed sheets. If you divide 2.5 million by 365 days you get 6,849 per day.

So, excluding the Wuhan Virus, we should expect 6,849 people to die of something daily anyway. Even though we don't know exactly what the causes are, we do have a pretty good idea of the total number of deaths. People are not disposing of the bodies without the authorities knowledge. If all of a sudden we start seeing a diminution in the numbers of deaths attributed to heart attack, cancer, stroke, etc., we probably can assume that these causes are being under counted in favor of the Virus. We are dealing with large numbers, so if the numbers are significant, it will be obvious. We can adjust the figures and subtract from the total and that would approximate the true Virus total.

Likewise,if people actually are dying of the Virus, but their deaths are being chalked up to heart attack, cancer, stroke, bed sheets, etc. we can tell because their daily totals will exceed the 1,774, 1,641, etc. We can adjust them, subtract from the total and add to the figures for the Virus. This won't be exact, but it probably will be just as close as these "adjusted" models. And, a ten year old with a calculator can come up with the figures instead of an expensive logarithm on a university computer. It'll be close enough for government work.

- Fred Wheeler