SEVERAL “Saks boys” reunited at Shoney’s the other night to reminisce a bit. It coincided with our class 30- year class reunion. We talked about life, memories, an era we wish to reclaim and, of course, Jack Stewart. With another football season here before us, this one will seem to “lack the luster” due to his untimely death last October.
For me, he was my “dad,” and listening between sips of sweet tea and lemonade, he was “their” dad, too. Office door always open to his players, you felt a “specialness” when invited there.
Moms and dads gladly loaned their boys to “Coach,” and a few days later out stepped a man. We knew the fundamentals of football rehearsed multitudes of times perfection or “nearly” expected. Coach looked through an oval shaped mass of leather and pointed us to the age we are now. He saw better than we ... good coaches have that knack. Teamwork was the ultimate goal... if you had a red jersey on a brisk autumn night, to him you were special, and superstar along with “scrub” had an important place to fill.
Sure wish “your” place was still filled, coach Stewart. We miss you a bunch!
Phil Murphy
Anniston
Blacksmith days
PAS I sit here reminiscing of days gone by, I can clearly see my Dad toiling over the heat of the blacksmith’s furnace where he hammered out metal.
As I grew older, I would turn the blower that would make the fire more intense. Later my Dad began to falter. The many years of hard work showed on his frail body. He developed an ulcer of the stomach (and later died of cancer).
As a teen-ager, I was taught the trade that his father taught him; but I knew I did not want to be a toiling “smitty” all my life.
As time does, everyone grew up and moved away. I was the last to leave my parents, at age 21. I still am happy, although we are not free from problems. My wife is homebound as a result of a stroke, requiring my care, and I have suffered a heart attack and had surgery on my leg. But we still trust God and will take one day at a time. May God bless.
Charles Cole
Anniston
Our fort
We should keep in mind that Fort McClellan is ours, the unexploded ordnance in the thousands of “trashed” range acres is “ours” and the chemical weapons and poisonous gases are “ours.”
“Our” ordnance which trashed “our” acres of ranges was used in the training of past generations of “us” that enabled “us” to ward off enemies intent on denying “us” the freedoms that “we” enjoy today.
Mr. Editor, those are “our” chemical weapons. “We” developed them, “we” built them, “we” brought them here, stuck them in “our” own face and said, “breathe this and like it, Anniston.”
Thank God this pittance of “destruction” over which we agonize is the extent of Anniston’s WWII, Korea, Vietnam, et al. wars’ battle damage. In the name of the folks at Arlington and Normandy and Omaha, I’m ashamed to hear some of this REAL trash.
Armond “Si” Simmons
Pell City
