"HillBilly Junction"

I don't really like our county road numbering system. When I am visiting with Tami's family, invariably, the talk turns to emergency services and what's been happening county wide. The conversation is in code. "Did you hear about the 1094 out at 9730?" I am completely clueless. Now, if they had said someone was drag racing at Rouintree Corner, I would be in the know.

I like for things to be named. County Road 6070 can't hold a candle to "Sanders Corner Route". And I would much rather use "The Myatt Road" instead of "County Road 9230". But we must have "progress" I guess... Because I am name oriented, when I give directions to someone traveling to West Plains from Springfield, I have to remember to "direct" in "correct" terminology.

For many years, there was a restaurant and gift shop near the intersection of  U.S. Highways 60 and 63 called "HillBilly Junction."

It was a pretty nice place to eat and was a good "stopping place" for folks traveling through the Ozarks. My typical directions would be "just follow 60 until you come to HillBilly Junction and come south on 63 to West Plains." When they put the four-lane in and made the interchange at 60-63, they cut off direct access to HillBilly Junction. After that, you had to exit off and then take the service road. The establishment continued for a few years but it seems that this caused the decline and final closing of Hillbilly Junction. So...if I ever give you directions and mention HillBilly Junction in those directions, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about!

One little story... In the early eighties, before I was married and was working at Schnurbusch Land Services, HillBilly Junction had a seafood buffet on Friday night. I had ate there several times with my family and it was a wonderful buffet with several kinds of "fishy" items. On a few occasions, I had made my brag to some of my coworkers about how much I could eat. One coworker, Stan Mundwiller, a former college football player and rugged outdoorsman, had the audacity to challenge me to an eating contest.

On the Friday of the big showdown, I ate my regular lunch but Stan just had a snack, saving his appitite for the evening meal. He commented that I shouldn't have ate so much because now, I was SURE to lose. He didn't know that I had a plan! We had a wood stove and Dad had bought several rank of wood that needed to be split. I took off early from work and spent most of the afternoon splitting wood! By the time evening rolled around, I was STARVING!

My brother Ralph, his wife Lisa, Stan, myself and another coworker, Doug Young all met at HillBilly Junction. We laid down the rules of the contest which were very simple... The one that eats the most platefuls, wins.

Stan and I heaped up the first plate, sat down and polished it off pretty fast. The second plateful...not as fast but we worked our way through catfish, shrimp, froglegs, hushpuppies and sundry other delicacies. The third plateful?... Yes...the third plateful. We heaped them up, sat down and started in. It was slow going but we kept at it. About halfway through his plate, Stan started to falter and moan and groan. Of course the others were laughing at us and we couldn't laugh which made it that much worse. I finally finished my plate but Stan had a few more pieces to go. After a few minutes and a valiant attempt to force down the rest, Stan conceded! I was the (stuffed) Winner!

Poke Greens and Fried Spam

While my brother Ralph and I were out working today, I took the opportunity to pick some poke greens. For all ya'all that don't know what poke greens look like, here are some in the fence row behind my house.

You only pick the very top of the poke weed so it takes quite a few plants to make a "mess" of poke. I picked a Wal-Mart bag almost full and after I got them washed they all fit in a two-quart pot.

I boiled them for 15 minutes, drained the (green) water off, boiled them again for 15 minutes and drained the water off. This gets rid of the Vitamin A which can be toxic.

Then I "fried" the drained poke in bacon grease with just a little salt until it was real tender. Some folks like to fry it with onions, green onions, wild onions and eggs but I just like'em plain!

I pepper and salt the fried poke to taste and add a little hot pepper vinegar sauce. Some people just use plain cider vinegar.

The Spam...It has to be sliced just like Tami is slicing it below or...well it's just wrong....

You coat the slices in cornmeal and fry in oil until the outside is real crispy.

The fried Spam is best when it is made into a sandwich with just mustard. Tami had fixed baked potatoes to go with the poke and Spam.

The only caution about eating poke greens? Moderation... Eat too many of them and you'll get a fine case of the "Back-door trots"!

When A Flag Bearer Faints...

Isaiah 10:18 ...and they shall be as when a standardbearer (flag bearer) fainteth.

I know I am taking this verse somewhat out of context, but a "Flag Bearer" has fallen. On Sunday morning, April 17, 2016, the Reverend Joey Hight, laid down the Ensign of the Independent Holiness Pentecostal Movement and stepped into the Eternal Eden.

Thanks to Bob Aborn for the use of this picture of Brother Joey Hight

I remember the first time I really "met" Brother Joey. He preached the May Fellowship Meeting at the Calvary Pentecostal Tabernacle in 1986. After the meeting closed, our pastor, Rev. Leon Farley asked him to come for a few nights of revival at the Junction Hill Pentecostal Church. It was in this revival that I had my first experience of "running the aisles" in church.

Now, if you've not been around old-time Pentecostal church services, I might need to explain. As Pentecostals, we believe and teach that the outpouring of the Holy Ghost was not restricted to the 120 believers in the upper room as recounted by Luke in Acts Chapter 2. I have seen and experienced many of the "acts" that occurred on the Day of Pentecost... from the speaking in other tongues to people acting like drunken men.

On this particular night, after Brother Joey had preached a message titled "All The Way To Bethcar", I felt moved on to take a lap around the aisles of our church. I did pretty well...until I came down the home stretch and tripped... and fell... and burned a hole in the knee of my dress slacks! I just got up and took another lap! Everyone else was having such a good time, I don't think anyone really noticed!

In April of 1991, Brother Joey and Sister Trish Hight came to pastor our neighboring church, the Calvary Pentecostal Tabernacle. I still didn't know Brother Joey very well but I must have impressed him to some small degree. In the fall of 1992, in a pastor's meeting, he nominated me (in absentia) to be the Youth Rally Leader for the Ozarks Holiness Fellowship. A couple of years later, he asked me to lead the youth services at the Annual May Fellowship Meeting. I have continued in these roles ever since, all because a great man took a chance on me.

I have racked my brain to think of any other minister that has had more influence on our Holiness movement than Brother Joey Hight. His unique style of preaching, using illustrations, has endeared him to thousands... with a few naysayers to keep him from getting the "big-head". Who can forget ringing the bells at the Bristow Campmeeting? His message titles?..."Land Birds and Branches With Berries On It". How about his "wild" neckties? All of these things were "Joey Hight". He didn't apologize or waver from his course, he just said to Sister Trish, "Honey, go start the truck!" He touched the young, the old, the simple, the smart... When you got "high and lifted up", he could bring you down... When you were "down" he knew the words to say to lift you up again. From coast to coast and border to border, among the Holiness people, the name of "Hight" was instantly recognizable and revered. He was "A Man Of The People".

Myself and Brother Lloyd Shuecraft standing on a pew, making Brother Joey feel short(er)!

Since I'm telling this from my perspective, I'll just say that most of my telephone conversations with him were short, to the point, and I always hung up laughing. This is an example of when he wanted me to preach for him on one of his regular church nights.

Me: Hello?
Joey: (in his gravelly, rough voice) My place...Sunday night.
Me: OK, I'll be there.
Joey: Don't bring Tami...she'll just kill the service.
Me: (laughing) OK
Joey: Her mother's bad enough...
Me: (still laughing) Sounds pretty rough!
Joey: See ya buddy!
Me: (Still laughing) See ya man!

These are some of my final thoughts about Brother Joey...

He was a man that forged his own place among the Holiness people. He has many imitators but no equals.

He was willing to risk his "reputational clout" and do something completely out of the norm just to reach another soul for Christ.

I have told my wife many times, "If I ever get into trouble, I want to have Joey in my corner."

He was one of two preachers that I (feel)felt comfortable calling by his first name, without the title "Brother" "Reverend" or "Pastor".

Finally...
My sympathy goes out first to Sister Trish. The days ahead will not be easy and I pray that Jesus will wrap His arms around her during this time and especially so, when of necessity, she has to walk alone.

Brother Joey's family, immediate and extended, and in-laws will also need God's grace in this grieving period.

The Calvary Pentecostal Tabernacle... These precious folks (including my in-laws) will need the comfort, wisdom, and guidance of the Holy Ghost in the days and weeks ahead.

Aesop In The Ozarks

The fables of Aesop have been told and retold for millennia. "The Ant and the Grasshopper", "The Tortoise and the Hare", "The Lion and the Mouse" are some that you should remember from your childhood. These fables, aside from their sheer pleasure in hearing or reading, usually had a moral lesson or point of instruction.

My Grandpa, Elmer Riggs, was the general contractor when the West Main Plaza was built. This was in the mid to late 60's and he had a crew of about ten men that were working for him. My Dad, Leamon Riggs, was part of the crew and was my Grandpa's right-hand-man.

My Dad and another feller, (I've forgotten his name) were hanging supports for drop ceilings in the large various offices in the Plaza. They were on a rolling scaffold and during the course of the day, the scaffold needed to be moved to a new work area. So, instead of climbing down, moving the scaffold and then climbing back up to work; they would just get the attention of a couple of men to come and move it while they just "rode".

Toward the end of a particularly long day, my Dad and his scaffold mate found themselves at the very back of a large office area. They got the attention of a couple of men and told them they needed to be moved all the way to the front of the office by the door. Now, the path to the door was blocked by all kinds of equipment, materials and scrap. The two men worked moving stuff, pushing the scaffold a little way, moving more stuff, moving the scaffold... In the meantime, Dad and his partner in crime, laid back on the scaffold platform and just rode and rested.

When the "movers" finally reached the area near the door, they stopped and asked if they were close to the next work area. Dad assured them that it was OK. Then he and his scaffold mate collected their tools, climbed down from the scaffold, thanked the two "movers" and walked out the door to go home!

As you might expect, Dad and his partner thought this was a pretty good joke but the "movers" didn't really make a big deal of it. However, it so happened that sometime during the next few days, they needed their scaffold moved (no fooling!) When they called for someone to help, it just happened to be one of the "movers" that was closest and got the call for "help".

As related by my Dad...the feller came over and looked up at Dad and his cohort sitting on the scaffold, and said "Let me tell you a little story". Dad said that he proceeded to tell the entire Aesop Fable of "The Little Boy That Cried Wolf." How the little shepherd boy was lonesome out with the sheep so he cried "Wolf! Wolf!" and all the villagers would run from the village and help the little boy but...Alas...there was not a wolf. Just the laughter of the little boy. This was done repeatedly until a real wolf appeared! This time when the little boy cried "Wolf!" all the villagers just ignored him and the wolf attacked the sheep because nobody believed the little boy anymore.

When "Mr. Mover" finished the story (which according to my Dad was quite lengthy) he looked up at the two pranksters peeking over scaffold platform and said "MOVE YOUR OWN $%@$#@* SCAFFOLDING!!!" and walked off!