B00GIE WITH TRIGG AND Supper With Trigg

Link to The Poor Boys courtesy of Richard Porter
Time Is A Funny Thing
DARRELL K ROYAL and Me, plus, Schlemeyer Back To Pass
Ninth Grade Football (1957)
Teen-ager's Sockhops
A Very Good Year
Fabled Fords
B00GIE WITH TRIGG AND Supper With Trigg
Wings Over Notrees
Tribute to Vance Phillips (ANOTHER new story)
The Monahans Sandhills Wagon Train Mystery--TRUTH OR HOAX?
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One of  the most amazing things I ever saw in those Best Ever Days happened one day at Tommy’s probably in the year 1960  in front of my sky blue 1955 Chevrolet, the one powered by a 1958 Corvette engine; you know, the one I loved the most.  I was parked there with some buddies in the next to the last parking place in the outside row before you had to turn left and head toward the exit.  Anyway, I remember it was a comfortable day weather wise, the place was at its peak of activity after school on a week-day, and things just felt charged up because a lot of people were out of their cars milling around, sipping their soda flavored drinks and being highly social because it was the year a new high school opened (PHS) and those students the year before were all together in one school and to meet again at the end of the school day at Tommy’s Drive-in, just seemed to be the thing to do.  It made those days special. 

 What was the center of attention, though, to me and some others nearby were Carlton Trigg and Boogie Childers.  Boogie had parked his black Chevy Impala in front of me on the other side of the drive way, and he and Carlton Trigg were betting money on the flip of a coin, to the amusement of us all.  It all happened right in front of my car.  One of them had the coin and would flip it up into the air and why it was up; the other one would call out heads or tails.  Trigg was obviously not getting the best of it and it showed on his expressive face.  I think he was the only guy his age in town that had huge smile and huge frown wrinkles on his face, and bless his competitive little heart, he went bi-polar trying to beat Boogie on those coin flips and for some reason Boogie just seemed to be on a roll and Boogie seemed to know it. 

At one point Trigg got frustrated and calmed down like he was about to quit and Boogie reacted like it was all over, but then Trigg set his jaw and radiated his eyes and neutralized those wrinkles  into a determined frantic state and then announced he wanted some more action, and  then it happened. 

These guys were right by my left front fender, less than five feet away and I nearly fainted when I realized this time, Boogie was calling HEADS on every flip and he amazingly won for about 12 times in a row.  Trigg was absolutely devastated at losing that many times in a row, and Boogie just stood there with a big determined grin on his face enjoying the luck and enjoying his best buddy getting unbelievably frustrated.  A small group of their friends stood by wide eyed and amused.  Trigg, baffled and furious now finally just sputtered some more expletives and then quit and walked away to his car totally dejected.  He left the premises.  Boogie just continued to grin and he shook his head as though he too wondered how the heck that could happen.

I had an uncle one time who met Boogie through his oldest son, Ronnie Moore, and that uncle once said of Boogie, “I bet that guy even has a good time at a funeral.” 

Boogie was always so upbeat that he even attracted good luck, seemingly on demand.  Was he our Harry Potter? I always thought he spread that good time into the air and made people around him grin, and just wonder what the heck he or Trigg would do next when they were FTOGETHERtHOSE WERE SUCH FUN DAYS.  mlmoore mAY 2014THER

Lord, Thank you for this food and for this day, and for all our many blessings! Amen!

Those are the words my family used to bless the meal we all shared with Carlton Trigg the first day we ever met him.

Some stories just linger there and never get out unless I make myself realize that the story does not get told because it might be a bit embarrassing, and then I realize just how silly such a thought like that can be. Then again, I hesitate to tell another Carlton Trigg story on this site because I question if someone might think I was just too envious of him and his lifestyle, and that might be true in some remote ways. What I did envy the most about Carlton, though, is how much fun he seemed to always have.

How can anyone not envy that? However, I did NOT envy the limits he sometimes pushed, no matter how much fun he seemed to have; I guess I was born a mite too conservative to have had all the fun he had.

For instance, I will never forget when he first started to come by our house every now and then.  He was a long-time friend of Carl Goetz, and Carl was a new friend of my older brother, and that meant I was sometimes around to catch some of their action. The magnet that attracted Carlton to our home was that Carl and my older brother had the mechanics’ skills, and tools, and at times our house had an empty garage stall they used to work on their own cars and their friend’s cars; and Carlton wanted his 1957 Chevy worked on by people who he thought knew what they were doing. That is how I came to first know him.

I remember that it was a summer day, probably the summer of 1958 or 1959. Carl and my brother had installed a set of two four-barrelled carbuerators on Carlton’s beautiful car, the one I coveted so much with red-hot envy. It was a job that had taken most of the afternoon, but they were finally finished, and it was nearing suppertime.  Carl Goetz had just left in his black Ford Convertible.

My mother, a tolerant person who always welcomed company, naturally assumed Carlton would accept her invitation to stay for what we always called supper, and he did, so mom set the table for the five family members, and Carlton.

As could be predicted in those days, there was always on the table ample pinto beans, fried potatoes, cream gravy, sliced onions, and fried chicken, iced tea and white bread. There was no need for anything else, in my opinion. I remember we ate in the breakfast area of the large kitchen, even though there was a formal dining room just a few steps away. I vividly remember Carlton enthusiastically accepting the invitation and even sitting just to my mother’s right at that round maple table. He was never an awkward guest. He felt at home wherever he was. I see now that whenever Carlton was around anywhere, the atmosphere seemed charged like a building summer storm. You just knew anything could happen.

I don’t remember what was said, but we were well into the meal when Carlton thought something my older brother said was very funny, and with a mouth full of cornbread and beans he laughed out loud, and in doing so, he accidentally spit food out across the table, right toward my older brother.

Of course the rest of us thought that was funny. After all, you didn’t see first-time company do that sort of thing very often, and we all started uproariously laughing, except for big brother. Big brother quietly picked up some food out of his own plate and threw it at Carlton.

The fight was on. I couldn’t believe it!  In response, Carlton dug into his plate and let his handful of potatoes fly at brother Butch!  My mother got caught up in it and threw part of her food back at her oldest son. Well, if they could throw food, my sisters and I could throw food, and suddenly the mess was flying everywhere, and all of us were dying laughing.

Finally, all of us sobered down to amazement and rib hurting mirthful laughter as we started to run out of ammunition. To end it, Mother stood up, shook her head and rolled her eyes and announced that all of us had to help clean up the kitchen. And we did, Carlton included. It didn’t take too long to scrub the beans and ketchup off the dining room wallpaper and off the tiled floor.

Never before and not since have I seen or heard of anything like that with people and a guest who hardly knew one another, and none of us ever forgot the first and last meal we ever shared with Carlton Trigg.