Part II: A Long Time Coming

First of all, a little follow-up from the last post. I noticed after reading through my ramblings that my artist's concept had an error in it. The drawing showed the lime green section on the bottom floor, when I believe it was actually on the top floor. I mean, a lime green bottom floor! How crazy would that have been?

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I like to think my family has quite a few notable members. I have a great-aunt who was a long-time college history professor. My dad's aunts and uncle wrote a Louisiana history text which we used in 7th grade. Some distant cousin somewhere was head basketball coach at Southeastern Louisiana, while I've got some other relative who teaches mathematics at the University of Kentucky.

My mom's dad was a surveyor and engineer, and designed a pretty sizeable bridge in central Louisiana. His son (my uncle) later worked on the design of the replacement bridge, which means my family OWNS that freaking river!! My great-grandparents had 9 children in poor, post-Depression Louisiana, and yet they managed to make sure every one of their kids attended college. I've got one sister who's a nurse, the other's in school right now, and my brother has played music for the Pope. That's right ... the Pope! The freaking Pope!!

So, all that to say that we've managed to carve out a couple of minor accomplishments here and there. Nothing, however, compares to Billy!

Both of my mom's grandmothers lived well into their 80's (actually, I think one made it to her 90's). Well, when my mom's maternal grandmother, Big Mama, eventually passed away, I went back down south for the funeral.

(That's right ... we called her Big Mama! We called my other great-grandmother Murtool (instead of Myrtle), and I've got an uncle EVERYONE calls Nootsie (instead of Ralph, Jr.)! Cajuns are weird - what's new there?)

During the visitation, distant family and friends poured in from all over. Of particular interest to me, however, was an affable gentleman appearing to be in his 70's or so. He had white hair but certainly appeared to be in pretty good shape. I saw him talk to everyone, including my mother, pay his respects, and so on. I had never met this guy before, so I eventually asked my mom about him. It turns out that his name was Billy, and he was my great-grandmother's younger brother. He still lived in Marksville, had a slew of kids, etc., etc. Apparently in his younger days, though, Billy had been a professional wrestler, touring around the South during that great period when crappy, regional wrestling events were still shown on regular TV.

Oh, did I mention Billy is a MIDGET!

That's right, boys and girls, I'm related to Billy the Kid, and not the cheesy gun-toting punk. No, this Billy the Kid tore it up during the '70s, as he appeared at the same events as Ric Flair and Jimmy Hart. Just check out this awesome picture from back in the day. Cajun Power, indeed! Now, unless your father invented Bat Shark Repellant or something, you're going to be hard-pressed to convince me you've got something better than that in the family tree!

Apparently, there's also a couple of DVD's out there featuring Billy. This first one looks like it's a pretty homemade operation, but it's got a clip of a tag team match of Billy with some guy named Little Jamaica as they battled Sky Low Low & Little Brutus. According to the seller, "Billy finally pinned Sky after whipping him into Brutus. The offbeat shenanigans continued after the bell." So not only did Billy get the pin, but there were freaking SHENANIGANS going on!

The second video is even more off the chain, as Billy was in a tag-team match with a regular size dude. Not only that, his partner was freakin' Jimmy Hart! Jimmy Hart used to wrestle with Andy Kaufman, for goodness sake! One of these days, I need to splurge and get one of these for my own viewing pleasure.

Check out this roster for Mid-Atlantic Championship Wrestling. Not only is Ric Flair on that roster, but they had guys named Mighty Igor, "Professor" Boris Malenko, and even the infamous Masked Superstar. I won't lie and say I'm a huge wrestling fan or anything, but that just seems SO COOL!!

Well, that's it ... there's my tie to greatness. Not only did I rub elbows with a wrestling bad-ass, but I actually have some kick-ass in my bloodline. Really, I don't know why I didn't come out of the womb doing a reverse pile-driver on the doctor ... maybe it's a recessive gene or something.



Until next time,
The Jim

Bask in my Glory, People!

I want to let you people in on a little secret … I am descended from greatness! Now, before I get a reputation for self-aggrandizement, let me say that I’m fully aware how pretentious that sounds. I will, however, prove unequivocally that my ancestry shall put all others to shame, except perhaps for these guys. (Even I’m not cooler than the coolest cats in Cook County!)

The first part of my tale takes us to a simpler time – an age of reason, class, and distinction. Of course, I speak of the late 1970’s, when Wink Martindale unveiled the greatest game show of all time, a scrawny scientist taught us we wouldn't like it when we got him angry, and Empire was still a glint in George Lucas’s eye. Back then, I was a young lad living in Natchitoches, Louisiana. Natchitoches is a small town in the central part of the state best known for being the oldest continuous settlement in the Louisiana Purchase, serving as the setting for the greatest diabetes-themed chick flick ever made, and originating the finest deep-fried, meat-filled pastries known to man. I'm not sure why we lived there - I'm sure it had something to do with Dad's job.

Our first house there was a relatively new abode on a single street on the outskirts of town. I believe it was supposed to be the start of a new neighborhood, but I never saw any additional development going on during our stay there. Our backyard abutted an expansive pasture, which was a fantastic place for flying kites. I distinctly remember the day we bought a 4-foot deep above-ground pool, and I stayed outside in it for approximately 12 hours straight. My sunburn from that day resulted in every inch of my skin peeling off ... I essentially molted that summer!

I also remember the time my dad took the sawed-off ends of 2 x 4’s and made a model of Sesame Street for me. I "drew" different characters on old pieces of wood, and then ... well, I'm not sure what I did then. I guess I played Sesame Street, although that sounds an awful lot like playing with dolls. Maybe it's best that we just move on ...

Right now, you may be saying to yourself, “Jim, that doesn’t sound all that much like greatness to me.” Allow me to retort by saying:

1) You apparently can’t envision how awesome that Big Bird was.
2) I can’t hear you, genius! This is a written medium.
3) Be patient ... I'm getting to the good stuff.

Anyway, we had this massive pasture behind the house. The grass would get pretty tall, making it an ideal place to run around and hide or whatever (as dumb kids tend to do). One day, I noticed a lot of construction going on all the way on the other side of the pasture. I didn't walk over there, as I was just as lazy back then as I am now; however, I watched as a new, two-story house was being constructed. This wasn't any ordinary house, though. It had a wood siding and white trim. The bottom story was some form of purple, but the top story was lime green. Perhaps your mind can't conceive of such a color scheme. In that eventuality, please take a glance at the following conceptual drawing:



Now, a kid my age got his sense of style from The Super Friends, so this house didn't seem abnormal. Apparently, though, this multi-chromatic dwelling raised a few inquiries around the area. Eventually, my Dad let me know that he learned the identity of the newest neighbor: Mr. Sylvester Ritter. Of course, you may know him better as THIS GUY:



That’s right, True Believers ... we lived next to the freaking Junkyard Dog! The J-Y-freakin'-D! This man, this bastion of greatness, this prince among men lived mere minutes away from my lowly home.

Now, I'm aware the uninformed or uneducated amongst you may see him as just some dude wearing a chain and spandex; however, those of us with class and sophistication know the JYD was truly one of the greatest men of our age. Hell, he even made it onto Hulk Hogan’s Saturday morning cartoon! Have any of you ever been depicted in a cartoon? I didn’t think so!



I never met the Dog, and 8 to 12 months later, his house burned down. (I have no idea why, but I like to think it spontaneously combusted from sheer bad-assitude!) We moved away, and that was that ... but for that brief time, I was living next to a true American Treasure. How many of you punks can say as much?

Well, after all that, I know it seems like I fell a little short, huh? That rambling tale of wrestling celebrities and their atrocious color choices just doesn't seem to match up with my claim of greatness. But see, I only told you that story to tell you the NEXT tale. Our next saga will provide such hard-hitting evidence as to the very greatness within my genes that even you, my harshest critics, will understand that the Mantle of Greatness truly is mine to bear.

And we'll get to that in a little something I like to call ... Part II!

(OK, maybe I need to work on the title a little, but it's still going to be good!)

Until next time,
The Jim