A Problem With our Alma Mater?

While listening to the names of my classmates being called to receive their diplomas at my graduation ceremony yesterday, I got to thinking about my school's alma mater. The lyrics were printed in the back of our programs, and the school chorus sang it beautifully at the start of the ceremony. There was something about that alma mater that just will not fit with the school anymore - Something that will need to be changed in the very near future.

First, a little background information about my school.

My high school sits in the vast pine flatwoods of north Florida on what used to be a small road named after a portion of my family. The only things to be seen outside of my school's campus are pine trees...And lots of them. It really is a peaceful place when there are not 2,700 raucous teenagers rampaging about the campus.
Recently, though, that road has been widened to four lanes, extended farther south to connect with another highway, and renamed to "******** Parkway." This new "Parkway" is only a small part of a huge development that is slated to completely envelop my school's campus within just a few years. Now, here comes the predicament for my school.

The first two lines of our school's alma mater are:

"Oh, **************, our alma mater,
Set around the mighty pines..."

What is my school to do when those "mighty pines" are torn down to make way for more and more homes? I guess those pines aren't so mighty, after all! But, really, this will be a problem. It will be no longer relevant to have those lyrics in our alma mater when there are no more "mighty pines" surrounding the school. So what is to be done?
I suggest re-tooling the lyrics to something like this:

"Oh, *******, our alma mater,
Set around the mighty developments."

...or even better...

"Oh, ********, our alma mater,
Set around the urban sprawl."

As sarcastic as it may sound, this will become a real predicament for my school in the future. What do yall reckon will happen to our alma mater?

Next Chapter

The waiting is over, Paintsmh.

Click on the logo of my future ;-)

Stepping back in time

Anybody that has read my blog at all knows that I try to spend the majority of my time away from modern society. The Florida Folk Festival, while filled with many modern comforts, is a place where I sometimes go back in time

At first glance it seems that these pictures could have been taken 50 or 60 years ago. Sitting underneath our ancient tent looking out over this spectacle and listening to people square dance in the distance, I can imagine being back in old Florida. Back in a simpler time. Back when people had a sense of identity and a sense of place. Back when Floridians didn't have to put a disclaimer on our heritage.
This feeling overcomes me even more while at the annual Battle of Olustee reenactment. Dressed in gingham and wool and warming my hands near a fire in the middle of an ancient longleaf pine forest, I can hear "Dixie" and the yells of people joyously dancing echoing through Old Florida. For a time, I have an inkling what life may have been like for my great, great, great grandfather.

Standing in the middle of a tick-infested battlefield sweating by the gallon while being rocked by cannon and musket fire all around me, the sulfurous smell of black powder thick in the air, the screams of men giving orders, the screams of men falling around me. I can, for a moment, feel the terror, the confusion, the treachery that my ancestors experienced while fighting in battle. I am humbled as I fully realize the courage of the men in that war, Southern and Northern, who stood honorably in defense of their families and country while their boyhood friends died in agony around them.

We don't need time machines to bring us back in time. All we need to do is seek out places like the Florida Folk Festival and the Battle of Olustee reenactment, and we can imagine what it was like to live years ago.

Have you ever experienced something that brought you back in time?

Florida Folk Artists

In my first post about the Florida Folk Festival I stated that the friendships and connections I make with other people are some of the most valuable results of the time I spend there.

Last year I met an older man who made an impression on me with his outstanding performance and honest advice. Carl Sharp, "Florida's Cracker Cowboy Poet," recites his original, humorous poetry about life as a cowboy so expertly that all of his poems seem to blend together into one big story.

Last year I asked Mr. Sharp to critique the poem I then called "adirolF" and told him, "Be honest." He was honest, and pointed out all of the errors in meter and poetic agreement that needed to be changed. He caught some sharp words from Uncle Stu due to his seemingly harsh criticism of some parts of my poem, but that is the way artists critique each other...Telling me "It's good" does not help. I later posted an edited form of that poem on this blog under the original title. Since then, however, I have changed the name to "The Cry of a Cracker" and changed the wording and verse in multiple areas of the poem. In Mr. Sharp's own words, I "Douched it."

That picture does not do it justice. Some Florida readers may recognize this work of art by Regina Stahl Briskey from the cover of the book Wiregrass Country by Herb and Muncy Chapman. I had never heard of the book until I talked to Mrs. Briskey and purchased this, which caught my eye as I sifted through a stack of prints of her artwork. It will hang, along with other Florida paintings, in my dorm room this coming year.

Where will that dorm room be? Don't worry, you'll find out soon!

Folkin' it up

How did this teen spend his first weekend of the summer and celebrate the unofficial end of his high school career? He spent it with the best folks in America, of course, at the Florida Folk Festival.

I was disappointed when my Uncle Stuart Pacetti informed me in the end of April that he would not be able to make it this year, as he would be visiting his son in Tennessee. Unfortunately, by that time it was too late for me to sign up as a participant, so I could not set up a little castnet display of my own. Therefore, instead of spending the weekend working on castnets under our usual sprawling live oak tree, I spent the weekend with my dad talking about reenacting with passing spectators. Of course, we had a great time doing that, too.

The Olustee CSO's old tent has seen better days, but that worn look caught the attention of a lot of people. It respectably held its own against Friday morning's driving downpours of rain. Nonetheless, it will probably be replaced soon, and this nice A-frame tent will likely end up in my hands in exchange for a donation to the CSO. Yet another step soon to be taken to become a full-fledged authentic reenactor!



This is a first-person view of how I spent much of my weekend. Shaving down a cow bone for a catnet gauge stick, working on my net in progress, and spinning embellished tales with some old crackers were favorite pasttimes. I really seem to fit in better with these old folks than with people my age. It's not that I'm a loner at school...That's a post for another time.

The 7-foot mullet net, my first, is nearly finished! Two more hours of work, and it's ready for the water! I finished attaching the leadline and eight pounds of sinkers at the festival, and it will be completed as soon as Uncle Stu returns from Tennessee.

The most valuable results of attending events like the Folk Festival, besides the experience of being among kindred spirits, are the connections and friends that one makes. My dad and I happened to be set up next to the Save our Suwannee organization, and I had a good talk with the people there about the river. When one of the members heard that I cast my own sinkers for my castnets (I melt down scrap lead and mold them into sinkers), he came over and informed me that that he had two buckets of lead he needed to get rid of. He used to be a diver and a stained glass artist, both of which required lead, and he had a lot of scrap that he was willing to give to me. I came home with about 40 pounds of good scap lead that will make about 500 sinkers.

In the absence of his father, Sam Pacetti awed the crowds yet again with his amazing fingerstyle guitar picking. I will post some videos of him playing soon, but you can visit his MySpace page and hear his amazing work now if you wish.

I have rambled enough for tonight. More on the Folk Festival will be posted on Tuesday. HurricaneTeen's officially returned for a nice long summer of hopefully blog-worthy events.

FREEDOM!!

My high school years are over, I am afraid. I am overjoyed right now, but I am sure once the realization sets in that I will never return to my school as a student, I will be a little saddened by it. But for now, I have three more exams I need to take next week, and I am finished permanently.

I WILL BE SPENDING ALL THIS WEEKEND AT THE FLORIDA FOLK FESTIVAL IN WHITE SPRINGS, so if any of my Florida friends want to visit me down there I would be happy to see you.

Update

No crackerism today as I run off to school and then work afterward and then to my brother's house and then I'm gone all day.
Just a little update:
Datil peppers are coming in like crazy. Just how many, you wonder? You will find out.
Squash and collards are growing beautifully next to each other! But the collards will be gone soon.
Okra and bush tomato plants are still growing...no flowering yet.
The AP Calculus test went off pretty well. Some of the questions were impossible to even comprehend after three hourse of pure, rigorous math, though.
Yes, I do know where I am going to college. Yes, it is in Florida (i'm sure that comes as a shocker!). Yes, you will find out where soon.
I went to the Sons of Confederate Veterans Florida Division Reunion in Ocala this past weekend, and met one of my heroes. You will find out who in a later post.
I am finished knitting on my castnet, but there's still a good bit of work left to do on it. It is currently hanging with 80 pounds of weight on its bottom outside Stuart Pacetti's garage.
There will be many updates when I am free from school...
10 SCHOOL DAYS LEFT!!

Suluclac

Today, I will take the biggest exam I have ever taken in my life. It shouldn't be that bad, I don't think, because I did really well on the practice exams. If you condsider scores of 65% good...But there's about a 40 point curve on the test :-D Wish me luck...And only eleven more days of school left!

Frantic and Foregetful Friday Florida Crackerism

AHH, I FORGOT IT WAS FRIDAY! Here's one that leaped from my memory just a minute ago:

"Don't bring a rope into a house that's had a hangin'."

Help!

I'm pretty sure this is some kind of Lupine, but what kind??
Found this nice little specimen in Julington-Durbin Preserve.

Shovel-breaking work & other related rambling

School has a way of preventing me from doing important things that I want to get done...Such as blogging, gardening, READING, WRITING, getting out into the woods, and working. It seems that teachers want me to be in school all day long considering all of the homework I have been assigned this year. By the time I am finished with homework, all daylight has drained away, and, considering most of my life is usually spent outdoors, this seriously limits my leisurely lifestyle, and often leads to my going slightly crazy (as is evident by that last sentence.)

I have been determined this spring break to be as productive as possible and get much of the things done that I have wanted to do for a couple of months now. Many of these things are enjoyable to me, and just knowing the fact that I am getting things done is very pleasing.

Tuesday, after having a delicious breakfast at Huddle House, my mom and I drove the whole length of our county to get to my uncle's/(soon to be) my property. I have been wanting to get some topsoil to load up in 5-gallon "grow bags" in which I will be planting datil pepper plants. We chugged on down through the "Potato Capital of Florida" and pulled up to my uncle's/my 1.25 acres.

I commenced shoveling, and ended up with about 600-800 pounds of wet, mucky, fertile topsoil out of the ditch. Even though this amount is only about half of what I will need to plant all my peppers, I was satisfied with the days' work. Unfortunately, our old shovel fell victim to the heavy dirt, and will bury itself behind the house tomorrow. It has served our household well, and will be sorely missed.

Involuntary Shovelslaughter.

On our way home, we passed through the tiny hamlet of Molasses Junction. If you have ever seen the movie Moving McAllister, you have seen parts of Molasses Junction. Here's one star's account of the town, during an interview with Parade Magazine:

Mila Kunis: I saw some really odd places. We were shooting in spots like Delta, Utah, that no one has ever heard of that were awesome to visit. These little towns are like characters all in their own. We went to Molasses Junction, Fla., It’s right outside of St. Augustine.
Parade: That’s a real name?
MK: Yeah, Molasses Junction, Fla., They were the nicest group of people I’ve ever met. This town maybe had a population of 75. It had one building that was the post office, a restaurant, a grocery store, a convenience store, a pharmacy and a gas station. And it was hunting season. They were like, “We will treat you guys to a dinner.” And we were like, “You realize we’re 150 people.” And they were like, “No problem.”

Molasses Junction Country Store's wall is adorned with newspaper clippings and photographs documenting the shooting of the film, and a picture of the owner, Dave Doan, with Mila Kunis. It is an extremely charming and friendly place, with its old-style southern food and feed/farm store-like feel. I entered the tiny building, my favorite store in the county, to get "lunch" for mom and myself. I picked up a coke and peanuts for my mom (remember this), a sweet tea for myself, and two bags of these:

A bag of Bulls-Hit Ranch's Datil Flavor Bulls Chips getting back to its "roots." For more on these, you can visit Florida Cracker's blog post about them.

I also talked to Dave about selling something in his store this summer.

I got home and unloaded all of the soil into the yard. Hopefully, by sundown tomorrow, I will have 49 transplanted Datil pepper plants.

Why so many? That's for the next post.

Weird

This past Saturday was the first day of spring break. Every high schooler was down at the beach soaking up the warm spring sunshine and making a general commotion. Everybody, that is, except me.

Nope, I spent the day running around like the Energizer Bunny, saving the beachgoing for sometime in the future (Personally, I think a farmer's tan fits my personality perfectly.)

I slept in (by my standards) till 8:00 AM, and made my way down to my Uncle Stu's house. I guess it's weird for a 17-year-old's best friend to be 58 years his elder...But I've never met any other person whom I have more in common with than this cracker-wisdom-loaded cousin of mine.
After tying over 600 knots on my mullet net-in-progress, we headed down to Tommy Allen's Feed Store just a minute down the road.

After parking the truck in the gravel "parking lot," we made our way up the creaky front porch steps, through the wide-open doors, and into the non-air conditioned shack. Saying "hello" to the attendant and explaining our reason for being there, we made our way over to the seed counter. Bags upon bags of seed were strewn everywhere, and after rummaging around for a few minutes, we found what we came for: Yellow straight-neck squash. Uncle Stu measured out his seed on the decades-old scale, put them in an sack, and brought them up to the check-out counter. All measurements are "on your honor.". A business based on the honesty of its customers? That's weird.

Later in the day, I went over to my mom's old high school sweetheart and datil pepper farmer, Randy Haire's, house. I showed up with the intention of buying 15 plants for $15, and ended up leaving with over 100 plants for $0, but not without some objection on my part. We had a very good talk about growing peppers, agriculture in general, and its quick ongoing disappearance in our home county. While we were talking, his daughter, who appeared to be slightly younger than I, approached gripping two painted turtles bound for their front yard swimming hole. She looked at me, and I could read her mind: What's he doing hanging out with my dad? That's weird.

When I finally got home late that afternoon, I mowed the lawn and took out the rest of my turnip greens. Some of them were starting to get that white mold on them, tipping me off that it was just getting too hot and humid for them. I had bush tomatoes to replace them with, anyway. I then spent the entire evening sorting, washing, blanching, and freezing the last of my crop of turnip greens.

As you can see, there was no shortage, and upon offering some to the neighbors across the street, they did not know what I was talking about; they had never heard of eating turnip leaves. That's a weird thing to do.

Yep, instead of spending the day at the beach like everybody else, I spent mine hanging out with old people, talking about old things, planting squash, harvesting turnips, and speaking with an old datil pepper farmer like he's an old friend.

I kind of like being weird.

A Different Kind of "Remote"

I found my television remote yesterday.

It was buried in a drawer full of school papers.

I will need them soon when the time to study for exams comes upon me.

But for today, I can bask in the glory of not having to get out of my comfortable chair to turn the TV channel.

Ahhhh, spring break is FINALLY here!

Writing a Paper

I am currently writing a process essay for my English class, and I am diverting my attention toward it. An update about my very exciting weekend will come hopefully early tomorrow morning or tomorrow afternoon.
I will have nice, long, rambling post coming soon, don't worry.

"What's your essay about?" you ask.
I'll give you a hint. The title is:
How to Castrate a Mature Boar-Hog
I'll explain why I chose this topic in the upcoming post.
Now I'm back to work!

Favorite Famous Floridian Friday Florida Crackerism

The follow crackerism was made famous by one of my favorite famous Floridians of all time.

On this one, I would like two answers:

What does it mean AND who made it famous?

A little research may be in order for non-Floridians :-D

"Tha ol he-coon walks just afore the light a day."

Initiation

"Private HurricaneTeen, front and center!"

The words sent a wave of unexpected confusion over me. They didn't warn me about this, I thought. Vacating my place in the ranks, I marched clumsily to the front, facing the captain.
"Hand me your rifle," said the sergeant at his side.
Promptly, I handed it over.
The captain spoke again.

"Spit in your hands."

As I followed his orders, I could hear my fellow privates jokingly mock me by making snorting sounds with their throats.
"Ah, that ain't enough! Can we get a donation?!"

A couple of my fellow privates eagerly stepped out of rank and, bending over my cupped hands, spit in them.
"Now hand me a cartridge."

Reaching into my black leather cartridge box, I pulled out one of the paper tubes filled with black gunpowder and handed it over to the captain. He took it, ripped off the top, and emptied the contents into my hands.
"Now rub that around. Make a good paste."

I rubbed the concoction vigorously, watching my hands turning a slimy black as the men behind me stifled their snickers.
"Ah, yeah, that's good. Now rub that all over your face. Make yourself a nice beard."

I looked up and spotted the disgusted faces of the spectators who had been watching us form up as I rubbed the body fluid of three different people onto my face.
"Now wash the rest of that off."

The captain took his canteen and washed SOME of the powder off of my hands. The sergent handed back my borrowed 1861 Enfield musket.
"Right about face!"

I turned, and a cheer rose from the ranks - a rebel yell.




I am officially a member of the 7th Florida Infantry Volunteer Regiment, Company B of the Confederate States Army; also known as The Straw Hats.

Final February Friday Florida Crackerism

"Even a blind hog finds an acorn sometimes!"

No hints on this one. Sorry.

Punishing Pencils, Camp Commotion, and the fever that results

Due to the fact that last Thursday's post was so rudely cut short by an incorrigible mechanical pencil, I did not get to finish telling you about where I would be this past weekend. The pencil has been relegated to a dark desk drawer until it screams its apologies...It will be there a while, that danged pigheaded writing utensil.
...Now I will continue that post, saying it aloud as I type in order to further frustrate my former friend (the pencil.)

...Ahem...

Every summer for as long as I can remember, I have been volunteering at a camp for people with disabilities...or, to put it the way I prefer to, people with different abilities.
This doesn't make me special or accomplished because volunteering there is not a sacrifice for me, it is a joy. The camp involves pairing up high school and college-aged people who bear (and contribute to) all the problems of this world-"buddies"- with those who are blessed with the joy of God no matter where they go-"campers."
(HINT--------> I'm definitely a buddy :-D)

Just starting this past year, two camps were set up to take place over the weekend during the school year. The first one occurred in October, but I balked at volunteering because I was afraid I would have too much school work, and would not be able to finish it if I was gone all weekend...I didn't have but an hour of homework that weekend.
Feeling bad about that, I decided to volunteer for this weekend, and, of course, I ended up having about 5-6 hours of homework and studying to do this weekend.
Teachers can be unpredicatable and goofy.

Camp was great fun as usual, and the weekend went by very smoothly with the exception of one blip on Saturday night...The details of which I will not share so I don't interfere with anybody's privacy. Everything turned out okay, though.
I would love to post pictures and tell you more about the camper I became friends with, but once again, I don't want to break anybody's privacy.
I'll just end that by saying it was a great time.

Pencil: My weekend was just dandy! ...Sitting in this danged drawer all weekend.
I don't want to hear it unless it's an apology, pencil!
You BETTER hope I don't get out of this drawer!
Shut up, pencil!
*grumble*

Where was I? ...Oh, yes.

I returned from camp Sunday night with the full expectation of studying literally all night. Now I don't do this a lot, only when it is necessary, but I had three energy drinks on standby to help me through the night. I was determined to ace that calculus quiz the next day...

I woke up.

"Dangit, it's already 6:30 (A.M.) and my throat's sore," I thought.
"And, whew, does my body ache!"

So started three days of a continuous 100+ degree fever that I still am carrying right now.
This is my third day straight absent from school...And unless I kick this fever by this evening, it looks like tomorrow will be my fourth.

I don't even want to THINK about all the work I am going to have to make up when I return.
But I still wouldn't trade this past weekend for anything :-D

Calculus: My anti-sleep, anti-time, anti-sanity

Yes, I had a completely amazing time at Olustee this year, and I can't wait to share it with you.
However, I am studying my behind off for a
HUUUUGE math test coming up next week...
On everything we have studied since we returned from Christmas break.

Just a moment ago, I managed to tear a large gash into my hand with the mechanical pencil I have been using to study all day. In an attempt to not bleed on my keyboard, I am going to cut this post short and find a Band-Aid.

Good night!

Froggy Friday Florida Crackerism

I'm off to the Battle of Olustee Reenactment for the weekend. I hope maybe some of my Florida readers can make it and see some lage explosions while learning about the largest battle in Florida during the WBTS! I'll be back Monday morning! For now, today's crackerism is not quite as hard as last week's.

"God a'mighty, what a toad strangler!"

Hint: Meteorology

Have a great weekend!
http://www.olusteefestival.com/