Increasing the Radius

By William R. Boone

Let me tell you just a little about this book. It will not be a best seller. I
am only publishing enough copies so each of you will have one as well as
a few other individuals. I hope this will give you some insight into your
background and why you do some of the things that you do. This is your
chance to blame it on your father/grandfather and have proof that it was
his fault and not yours.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Aug 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477203361

Book preview

© 2012 by William R. Boone. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 07/30/2012

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0335-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0337-8 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-0336-1 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012908272

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

Preface

Childhood Memories

Advice From Dad

Because You Were Not Sue

Biscuits Versus Asphalt

Chicken Feed

Dod

It’s Pretty Like Calligraphy, But You Cannot Read It

Stomping Graveyards

The 1959 Ph.D.

Influential People That I Have Known

Heroes

Dedication To Dad

Dad’s Poultry Science Obituary,

Mom

Grandparents

James H. Bywaters, ,

Richard A. Carmichael

Brank Fulton

Ned Gingerich

William Makali,

Esther Lee Finley Threlkeld,

Religion

Being In Partnership With God

Booneism

Introducing My Family To The Congregation

An Episcopalian In A Non-Pomp And Circumstance Church

I Saw A Miracle Today

Tithing

Death

Where Does Life Begin; Where Does Life End

Philosophy

The Beauty Of Philosophy

First Impressions

Getl: An Administrative Philosophy

Hate

How This Book Got Its Name

Life Is Like Cutting Paper

Making Lemonade Out Of Lemons— The Dyslexia Story

The Bonnie Jane

Miscellaneous Topics

April’s Fawn

Birth Of A Cleanroom

Bling

Chores

Dad’s Favorite Sayings And Responses

Heights I

Heights Ii

Heights Iii

Heights Iv

I Had Everything Under Control Until Those Darn Trumpets Blew.

It Sounded Like A Good Idea At The Time

Jd

Leaders

My Favorites

Perforations In The Ceiling

Please Have Someone Rewrite It In English

Report Card For The Boone School Of Travel

Savoring The Spices Of Life

Secrecy, Setbacks, And Stubbornness—The Making Of A Fraternity

Shiny Shoes

Sports = Fear

The Bomb

The Christmas Gift

The Gondola Ride

The Greatest Invention

The Town Whose Name Had A Color In It

The Wedding Of The Century

The Windsor Knot

The World’s Largest

Travelling With The Hubers

Where Were You When…

The Life And Times Of Bill And Edna Boone

PREFACE

To my children and grandchildren,

Let me tell you just a little about this book. It will not be a best seller. I am only publishing enough copies so each of you will have one as well as a few other individuals. I hope this will give you some insight into your background and why you do some of the things that you do. This is your chance to blame it on your father/grandfather and have proof that it was his fault and not yours.

My dad thought it was important to document history so that it would not get lost. For example, he thought the Boone family genealogy was so important that he wrote two books that dealt with our relatives.[1], [2] With the thought that he would write a book about the history of the Beta Zeta Chapter of Alpha Gamma Rho which he founded, he saved all of his notes and documents for over 30 years. (As you know, your grandmother/great grandmother and I finished this book for him.)

I guess this passion has spilled over to me and so I write this book for you about some of my thoughts and experiences—some humorous, some sad. I started thinking about this book after reading God-Talk[3] by Ed Nelson (yes, this is Boyce and Laura Nelson’s dad) and realizing that a book could have many short chapters that were not necessarily tied together. If you pay attention to the date in which the chapter was written, you will see that I have had the concept of writing this book for some time (one of my first entries came from information I collected while lying in bed after my back surgery in 1983 [Perforations in the Ceiling]).

Now about the layout of the book: it is just a series of random thoughts, and because they are just random, they often appear in no particular order. There is no story more important than the other. You may have to take note of the date the chapter was written in order to understand the story. Finally, I wrote the stories as I remembered them; if you remembered them differently, write your own darn book.

Finally I would like to thank three individuals that assisted with the completion of this book. First, is your mother/Mimi that took the time to read this book very carefully and edit my memory of events. Second, is Dr. Nancy D. Taylor, who has her doctorate in English, and who, with her deft editorial hand and suggestions over the last fifteen years has taught me more English grammar than anyone else I know. Thirdly, is your sister/aunt, Dr. Becky J. Boone, for her assistance with the design of the cover of this book.

Love,

DOD/GF

1 February 2004

Revised 9 March 2012

[1] Boone MA. Descendants of Henry Harrison Boon, Including Partial Histories on Curtner and Burgess Families. Privately published. 1971.

[2] Boone MA. Descendants of Henry L. Burgess. Privately published. 1992.

[3] Nelson, EB. God-Talk. Vantage Press, Atlanta, GA.1980.

Childhood Memories

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ADVICE FROM DAD

Dad used to say that everything needed to be signed and dated. While I never quite understood, I tried to follow his lead. I finally understood why he said this when I started to write 113 Calhoun Street: The Early Years of the Beta Zeta Chapter of Alpha Gamma Rho. Without dates and names of authors, the problem of verifying facts was greatly magnified and the compilation of such a book became almost impossible. I suspect Dad ran across this problem when he tried to write his two books, Descendants of Henry Harrison Boon[1], Including Partial Histories on Curtner and Burgess Families[2] and Descendants of Henry L. Burgess[3].

1 February 2004

BECAUSE YOU WERE NOT SUE

My family is interested in genealogy. I knew that my brother’s name, Donald Thomas (Mike) Boone, came from my two uncles—Donald Darbee Rogers and Harold Thomas Boone. The name Mike came from a friend of my mother’s family, Mike Lynch. Knowing the source of my brother’s name begged me to ask my mother, How did I get the name ‘Bill’? My mother answered, Because you were not ‘Sue.’ End of story.

11 November 2002

BISCUITS VERSUS ASPHALT

Ever since I can remember, my mother was an experimenter in the kitchen. As a matter of fact, about every other month the family would undergo Experimental Week. During this week, Mom would try all kinds of new recipes—some good, some bad. What you must understand is my mother never wrote down a recipe; she went by taste—does it need more salt; how about a dash of basil?

Mom tried numerous recipes over her lifetime, but biscuits were not her forté. We used to kid her about her biscuits because they were so hard. More than once, my brother, Mike, and I took biscuits after supper, stood on our side porch nearest the road and threw them towards the highway. If they reached the highway, they just bounced; they did not break apart, they just bounced. We would tell Mom the biscuits were so hard they would take divots out of the asphalt.

1 February 2004

CHICKEN FEED

He was the strongest man I knew, next to Mr. James B. Cooper. He stood six feet four inches tall, but never weighted any more than 165 pounds. This Herculean man was my father.

In 1957, my family raised chickens in our barn to earn some extra money.[4] What I remember most about raising chickens was how the chicken feed was moved from the top of the barn to the basement of the barn. Feed came in 100 pound burlap bags; some of the bags were still in the barn, or at least they were when my niece, Susan, and I were there last.

In order to get the feed from the top of the barn, where it was stored, to the basement of the barn, where the chickens were housed, required physical labor. My Dad would lift one 100-pound feed bag and put it over his right shoulder and then lift a second 100-pound feed bag and tuck it between his left arm and his hip and walk with them around the outside of the barn, down to the north basement door. Once at the door, he would set the left bag down, slide the door open, pick the left bag back up, and carry it into the barn! Even when I thought I was invincible, I could not have performed that feat.

It is one thing to pump 200 pounds while you lift weights; it is an entirely different thing to pick up two separate 100-pound items and carry them 50 yards down an incline, while the contents shift inside the container.

9 November 2008

DOD

I plagiarized this three-letter acronym from my father. He was the first one I ever saw use it, and I thought it was a great idea. You know what they say about copying someone: It is the best form of flattery. The initials DOD stand for Dear Ole Dad.

1 February 2004

IT’S PRETTY LIKE CALLIGRAPHY,

BUT YOU CANNOT READ IT

When mother attended elementary school, children were expected to learn a particular writing style. The style required the whole arm to move to form letters, not just fingers or wrist and fingers. However, Mom did not like this writing style, so she only used it when the teacher was looking.

Mom did not like the way some letters were formed, so she sometimes developed her own style of letters. For example, she did not like the way the D looked, so she made her own D.

To this day, her penmanship is pretty; but unfortunately, no one can read it. If you do not believe me, ask Nuke. Who is Nuke? you ask. Nuke is my brother. When we were small, Mom wrote to the company that published the children’s magazine titled Jack and Jill and had the publication come in our names. When the magazine came, it was addressed to Nuke and Bell Boone. The people at the publishing company could not differentiate between Mike and Nuke or between Bill and Bell.

1 February 2004

Here is an example:

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STOMPING GRAVEYARDS

Have you ever spent much time in a graveyard? I have. I did this in my early teenage years. I did this with one of my idols—my dad. We did a lot of this in Obion County, Tennessee, and other places because that is where clues to the mystery took us. The mystery, of course, was whether or not we were related to Daniel Boone.

As you might expect, however, when you get back into the early 1800s, it becomes hard to trace your ancestors. Back then, records were kept in family Bibles, which often got lost or burned. In addition, formal records were kept in churches and courthouse, both of which were wood structures and were often destroyed, along with the contents inside.

Because of this lack of information, we were relegated to stomping graveyards in search of family members. We could only hope family members were buried together and would have some history etched into their tombstones. Unfortunately, even if we found a family member’s gravestone, it was often so worn little information could be retrieved.

However, memories of filling in the blanks of our genealogy with my father are not forgotten. Old courthouse record books that were available are still memorable. Copying pages from these books in hopes of using the information to find a link with our past was always exciting. To me, the trips were more valuable than the information.

5 February 2004

THE 1959 Ph.D.

It was 1959 when Dad started leaving us about 6:30 on Monday morning and reappearing sometime on Friday. He would go to the Law Dorm where many of the advanced-degree students lived. That was all I knew, besides the fact his roommates would have funny names because they were from foreign countries like India. But for me, it started about 1960.

My dad and I would get up early on a Saturday morning, climb into the 1952 black Studebaker Champion, rocket across Highway 76 east to Wildhog Road, onto what is now Interstate 85, cross the Seneca River and enter Georgia. From