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Thursday, February 10, 2011

How different my nights use to be....

Uncle Ezra in the middle of niece Carolyn and baby sister Kathryn
My Uncle Ezra is now in hospice care. He is 97 and some would say that is a long time to live. It is for most but as Uncle Ezra told me a few weeks ago, his drivers license doesn't expire until he is 100. He expected to live that long but it does not see like he will.


My Uncle Ezra always has a funny story to tell you or something to pick on you about. When I was a kid he would tell me and my cousins what pretty little boys we were and the boy cousins would of course be good looking girls. He would tickled you if you walked by him or snatch at you if he could just to see you squeal and run away from him. He would check your oil and look at your tires when you became a teenager and started to drive and continued doing so even after you were an adult. He loved throwing a ball with the little kids and watching them run after it and catch it and he amused himself by walking around and talking to people about the weather and what it was going to do that day or night. For the past several years he has had a steady diet of ritz crackers with peanut butter spread on them and chocolate ensure to drink. He watched Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy every night except for Sunday. Anytime a Braves ballgame was on or any ballgame for that matter you better believe he was watching it.

I moved back to Georgia in 2005 and lived in the basement of my Great Aunt Kathryn's house. It is a fully furnished and finished basement complete with kitchenette. My Uncle Ezra would yell down at me every night before he went to bed to make sure I locked that door with access to the outside. Of course it was still daylight but I assured him anyway and rattled the lock in case he could actually hear the noise to satisfy him that I had checked it. My Uncle always put the house in "lock down mode" around 5 unless I was working late or going to look at houses to buy after work. Then he would call me on his cell phone (he had one with a camera years before alot of us younger generations got one and knew how to use it) to find out what my plans were and would sit up and wait until I came home. Often times he would be waiting for both Granny (AKA: Aunt Kathryn - his baby sister) and me. We were late night party girls as far as he was concerned with our comings and goings after dark. One night Granny and I headed out after dark to a Farm Bureau meeting and didn't come home until 8! We were wild but Uncle Ezra kept us in check.

For a month after I had moved out and was living an hour away in Warner Robins he called me. Each night he wanted to see if I had gotten home safe and sound from work. He would want to know the weather and how my boys were. Then one night he said that he reckoned that I knew how to get home by myself and I would be okay since I always locked my door and let down the garage door before I went to bed. He didn't call me anymore in the evenings but would call me on the weekends to see how the weather was holding up down there and ask if the boys were growing and what they were doing.

Ezra Price Sr. of Locust Grove
As I watch him here in the hospice I realize that they don't make men like him anymore. Then men of my generation will barely open a door for you much less call to check to make sure you made it home okay. I will miss him when he is gone and so will my cousins Kathryn and Francis who can regale everyone with many funny Uncle "E" stories. His grandkids will miss him, the kids that lived next door to Granny's will miss him, and anyone that knew him will miss him.
He had his stories, he had his routine, and how different his nights use to be.

                                                         Love your great-niece Holly

Daily Inspiration!!

One of my favorite poems by my favorite General!


THROUGH A GLASS, DARKLY
by Gen. George S. Patton, Jr.

Through the travail of the ages, Midst the pomp and toil of war, Have I fought and strove and perished Countless times upon this star.

In the form of many people In all panoplies of time Have I seen the luring vision Of the Victory Maid, sublime.

I have battled for fresh mammoth, I have warred for pastures new, I have listed to the whispers When the race trek instinct grew.

I have known the call to battle In each changeless changing shape From the high souled voice of conscience To the beastly lust for rape.

I have sinned and I have suffered, Played the hero and the knave; Fought for belly, shame, or country, And for each have found a grave.

I cannot name my battles For the visions are not clear, Yet, I see the twisted faces And I feel the rending spear.

Perhaps I stabbed our Savior In His sacred helpless side. Yet, I've called His name in blessing When after times I died.

In the dimness of the shadows Where we hairy heathens warred, I can taste in thought the lifeblood; We used teeth before the sword.

While in later clearer vision I can sense the coppery sweat, Feel the pikes grow wet and slippery When our Phalanx, Cyrus met.

Hear the rattle of the harness Where the Persian darts bounced clear, See their chariots wheel in panic From the Hoplite's leveled spear.

See the goal grow monthly longer, Reaching for the walls of Tyre. Hear the crash of tons of granite, Smell the quenchless eastern fire.

Still more clearly as a Roman, Can I see the Legion close, As our third rank moved in forward And the short sword found our foes.

Once again I feel the anguish Of that blistering treeless plain When the Parthian showered death bolts, And our discipline was in vain.

I remember all the suffering Of those arrows in my neck. Yet, I stabbed a grinning savage As I died upon my back.

Once again I smell the heat sparks When my Flemish plate gave way And the lance ripped through my entrails As on Crecy's field I lay.

In the windless, blinding stillness Of the glittering tropic sea I can see the bubbles rising Where we set the captives free.

Midst the spume of half a tempest I have heard the bulwarks go When the crashing, point blank round shot Sent destruction to our foe.

I have fought with gun and cutlass On the red and slippery deck With all Hell aflame within me And a rope around my neck.

And still later as a General Have I galloped with Murat When we laughed at death and numbers Trusting in the Emperor's Star.

Till at last our star faded, And we shouted to our doom Where the sunken road of Ohein Closed us in it's quivering gloom.

So but now with Tanks a'clatter Have I waddled on the foe Belching death at twenty paces, By the star shell's ghastly glow.

So as through a glass, and darkly The age long strife I see Where I fought in many guises, Many names, but always me.

And I see not in my blindness What the objects were I wrought, But as God rules o'er our bickerings It was through His will I fought.

So forever in the future, Shall I battle as of yore, Dying to be born a fighter, But to die again, once more.

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