Sunday afternoon, Kimball had already told me the outcome of the Kansas City/Vikings football game but I was watching the recording after she got home from taking a photo of the Miss Merry Christmas candidates. She was not in the room when a fantastic play occurred. Later in the game, when she returned to within ear shot, I told her about it and spent about 15 minutes finding it for her. It was when the Chief’s Running Back Damien Williams got free for a 91 yard TD sprint, None of the Vikings even got close to catching him. Then here came the Chief’s Tyreek Hill (nicknamed Cheeta). He caught Williams and even put his hand on his shoulder before they both crossed the goal line.
Kimball saw on the internet Monday that someone calculated Hill’s speed at 22.6 mph, the sixth fastest of any NFL football player this year. And it didn’t look like Hill was even trying that hard.
I’m glad I finally found it for her to watch. A lot of times, I’m just the scout. I find something interesting on TV when I’m up in the middle of the night drinking some hot milk with Swiss Miss in it so I can go back to sleep, then I show Kimball during daylight hours.
– Talked to Adrian this morning. All is well at her house. Both boys have the sniffles. Van at two is putting words together like, “Daddy’s home.” He refers to Snider as “Baby.” He shows no animosity toward Baby, who will be two months old on the 9th, but occasionally steals his feeding pillow saying, “Mine.”
-Some time back, Adrian suggested that I ask you for stories. She said she always enjoyed hearing Grandpa’s stories from when he was growing up. She thought people had lots of fights back then. I guess a peaceful day working, hunting or fishing doesn’t make a memorable story.
So, if you have any stories from yesteryear, please share them.
I know I have almost total recall of turkey hunts where the turkey won and not so much where I got the bird.
I do remember well the night in a supermarket on North Market in Shreveport when Kimball asked me, “Has anyone every asked you to marry them in a grocery store.” I finally managed to choke out a weak, “No.”
The next day, out in my boat way back in Brewster’s Pocket on Cross Lake, I said, “I’ve got something to ask you.”
Kimball squinched her eyes and said in a strained voice, “Don’t do it.”
I asked, “Why not?
She said in the same strained voice, “Because I’ll say yes.”
So I proceeded, “Will you marry me?”
Like she warned me, she said, “Yes.”
That was the spot where I caught my first alligator on rod and reel and told Kimball about when we first met in the Bossier Press office. And I had caught many big bass in the channel right under where the boat was siting when I proposed where the natural channel and the channel Mr. Brewster dug meet.
Never caught another fish at that spot, but I caught a wife for the next 44 years or vice versa, so far. We call it Engagement Point.
Our anniversary was Halloween night. Her choice so I wouldn’t forget, I guess. It worked. The only other event in Shreveport that night was Bob Hope. KL