Submitted by Neal Murphy

The Wedding Rings by Neal Murphy

November 13, 2020 - It was Mother's Day afternoon in 1970 and my wife and I were playing with our son and daughter in our front yard. We were tossing a football around, and my wife fell while trying to make a circus catch. It was obvious that her left hand was broken, and medical attention was called for. We prepared for a trip down to the medical center in Houston, Texas, particularly Methodist Hospital, located on Fannin Street.

White Lightning by Neal Murphy

October 30, 2020 - I grew up in the part of Texas that was notorious for its moonshine distillers. In fact, while in college in 1955, my roommate was the son of a family known for their moonshine making. I had never encountered real moonshine until *Jim began bringing a gallon of the stuff to our boarding house every Sunday afternoon. It would last our residents an entire week.

"Chickens, Eggs, And Other Nonsense” by Neal Murphy

October 23, 2020 - The lowly chicken has provoked a number of interesting questions in the past, such as: Why did the chicken cross the road, and which came first – the chicken or the egg? These two questions have been pondered for many years, and every person must come to their own personal conclusion. I have decided that the real reason that the chicken crossed the road was because she wanted to get to the other side. Others have stated that she crossed the road to prove to armadillos that it COULD be done.

The Model Home by Neal Murphy

August 27, 2020 - I need to make this perfectly clear at the outset, I did not play with dolls or doll houses when I was a young boy. However, when I was in the sixth grade at San Augustine, Texas Junior High, our homeroom teacher decided that we needed a class project to work on during the semester. Mrs. Dan Lowe decided that our class should build a doll house, or a model home. So, she drew up some plans, much like an architect would do.

The Ditch Nurse by Neal Murphy

August 18, 2020 - Every neighborhood needs a nurse, a woman who is always there to doctor the kids’ skinned knees, insect bites, minor cuts, and abrasions that are a part of life in the ‘hood’. When our family lived in Houston, Texas in the early 1970s, a Mrs. Whatley performed this activity in the Westbury neighborhood in which we lived. Through this “asphalt jungle” snaked a drainage ditch which attracted kids of all ages. My pre-teen son, Doug, loved to play with his buddies in this drainage ditch.


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