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Fowler "Pappy" Boppy Stanton - story from a student
Saturday, March 06 2010 @ 10:40 CST Contributed by: patclem
Today at Boppy's funeral, we met many people, some Donna, Sonata and the rest of the family knew, others were from life before our crew. We heard many stories. From Mindi Mercer via email to Donna, This story was never verbalized since his death, but quite special and easy to share with you.
Pappy, You Will Be Missed
It was a little band room on the outer edge of a small middle school in rural Jackson County Tennessee, furnished with old metal folding chairs and even older music stands, and filled with students from fifth grade through high school, all of whom it took to make a roster for the band an entire county shared. There weren't enough kids for the schools to each have their own. Still, when the new band director walked in, a little short and with full eyebrows, he seemed bigger than life in his tiny surroundings. His name? Fowler Stanton, but we all called him "Pappy".
We knew he'd been in the service, but it was his demeanor and passion for music that made it evident right away that his actual age belied the strength of heart and mind under that mop of silver hair. He didn't seem to notice or care that we were just a rag tag bunch of kids from the middle of nowhere that knew nothing about what an actual band should look or sound like. He never seemed to consider that our options or potential were as limited as our experiences or funding. He just assumed we could do what we set out to, and then so did we.
None of us knew what we were doing. We were mostly just looking for something else to do in a town with very few options, but he didn't care. He hauled us to band camp at nearby Tennessee Tech, his alma mater, anyway, and hauled our behinds out of bed at the most ungodly hours to march around the field and practice in various rooms around campus all week. There were more than a few grumbles on our parts and a little astonishment that the schedule that was wearing our young selves out didn't even seem to phase this man that was decades older than even our oldest members.
He wasn't one to take any nonsense, but he hardly ruled his band like his military background might imply. He was tough, but always fair, and he was interested in more than what we could do or be for the band itself. He wanted us carry the new found confidence and can do attitude he instilled into everything we did. Thankfully many of us did. He also didn't put much stock in traditions, at least ones that no longer needed to apply, and made his decisions based only on a persons ability alone instead of their circumstances.
A few months after he came, he decided we would reorganize the positions within the band. There I was, as a 5th grader one of the youngest in the band, and so pretty low on the totem pole. As I held my own trumpet I looked up the row to the boy who was first trumpet and a high school senior. Even knowing how Pappy was, I thought surely even he wouldn't elevate a lowly 5th grader to a position of authority, no matter how minor, over a senior in high school. He did though. Not only did he make me first trumpet, he made me leader of the brass section as well. He then proceeded to teach me the trombone, baritone, and french horn as well, and had me assist with beginning band even though my age would've placed me in that same category, regardless of ability, in most programs.
It may seem like a small thing, in a small place no one has heard of and most will likely never see, but it meant the world to me. From then on, I looked at every situation with a "Why not?" attitude that has opened so many doors in life. Every single day I use that "Who says I can't?" lesson I learned so many years ago to chase my dreams, dreams I may not have had without him giving me faith that I could do anything I set my mind to, regardless of my situation or the status quo.
Obviously, I adored Pappy. He was like a surrogate grandfather, and so his good opinion held great weight with me. I will never forget the day I thought I had lost it. A few of us had been at school after hours doing something for the band, and we got bored and did something silly. It wasn't horrendous, but it was irresponsible and immature, which is often the case with kids. As is also often the case with kids, we were clueless and were found out. He knew what we had done, but not who had done it. That afternoon, as he stood there in front of the entire group, letting us know that he knew and he was disappointed, I felt my stomach drop and then churn with that unbearable queasiness of guilt. I went home and cried myself to sleep that night, feeling just horrible. I had let him down after all he'd done and had violated the trust he had placed in me when no one else would've given me the chance to do half the things he knew I could do. I had to make things right.
The next day, I felt the dread of what I had to do all day long. The clock would alternate from flying and drawing me closer to the moment of truth, to moving like molasses and dragging out that awful feeling of not knowing. Likewise, my mind flipped from wanting to hurry up and get it over with to mentally trying to will time to slow down and put it off just a little longer. When the time finally came, band was over and everyone was gone from the band room. I walked up to Pappy, teary eyed and with a trembling lip, and muttered "It was me. I'm sorry." while half holding my breath for his response. Then he did something I found remarkable at the time.
He didn't yell, or grill me for the names of my cohorts, or even lecture me for letting him down. He said "It's okay. Thank you for telling me the truth." and patted my shoulder. He even smiled to let me know it would be alright. Looking back, I think he must've seen it on my face from the first that I was guilty. I think instead of forcing me to fess up then and there, he gave me a chance to do the right thing on my own. By doing that, he taught me a life lesson about stepping up and taking responsibility, and with his response, he taught me how to be gracious when someone else lets you down.
As you can see, while he might have been there to teach us to read music and to play the instrument of our choice, he taught us so much more. I'm ashamed to say I didn't stick with playing, and that after he moved on to another school that I only wrote him one letter of thanks while in high school. I wish there had been many more. I will always be thankful, however, that the life lessons stuck, as did the love of music in all forms that he helped nurture.
In short, I will always be grateful that he walked into that little room and into all of our lives. Now that he has moved on to a better place, I can only marvel at the man and the vast number of people who were better for knowing him in his eighty-eight years on this earth. I think it is safe to say that while we have lost an angel, heaven has most assuredly gained one.
Most Recent Post: 06/24 03:57 by Anonymous [ Views:: 139 ]
Fowler Stanton, Amadeus and the Sea Monster
Thursday, March 04 2010 @ 02:11 CST Contributed by: patclem
Last week on the evening of February 25, 2010, our family lost Fowler Stanton (Boppy.) He was Donna's stepdad and the man that raised her. He was always up to something crazy or poetic. The story below is one we found while going through his wishes.
A little background: Boppy was raised on a farm in Buffalo Valley, Tennessee. Most people know it as an exit to go fly fishing on the Caney. It was a bustling area back in the early 20th century. Boppy had many stories of good times, and mystery and intrigue. I remember him telling stories of singing and music, ghost stories, firefox, cream separators, the old barn! The story below is one he wrote about him and Amadeus' (aka Joe Dog) adventure
We'll all miss him very much. I look forward to all the stories at his "visitation" on March 5. There will be plenty of good ones.
Fowler G. Stanton
646 Lakeview Drive
Smithville, TN 37166
To The Editor:
Amadeus, my treasured Golden Retriever and faithful companion, and I recently took an autumn pilgrimage as we always do this time of the year down by the countryside of my heritage. Amadeus, being the superior canine that he is, is usually the “trail boss” and I just follow his lead. However on this journey I was a little concerned because of the route he had chosen. This happened to be the “ Valley of Trouble Winds”; a valley where few men have dared to trod. According to legend, those certain men never returned. So with some anxiety I followed Amadeus’ lead and strolled along with him. I rely on the fact that Amadeus’ resilience can take care of any thing that crosses our path.
I take pride in also knowing that my faithful pet and I have a wonderful ability to communicate. He barks in certain tones that lets me know when he is answering to the call of the wild or if he just feels like saying hello. He growls when there is danger, and has a quiet murmur when the moon is full and suspicion is in the air.
Upon entering this certain valley, we saw two trails, one was heavily trodden, and clean with deer tracks. The other was laden with lichens and moss. Amadeus being no fool, chose the clean track. We had not traveled far when Amadeus started to growl and ended with a murmur. I quickly inspected his direction and noticed a footprint. However this just wasn’t some foot of a deer or mountain lion, this was a huge human-like footprint! It was the size of a washtub! Up above and beyond we caught a quick glimpse of a figure about eight feet tall, with a wardrobe of long hair and beetle eyes. After a quiet conference with Amadeus, we elected to take the trail less traveled.
Soon we had reached the end of our joumey where there was a pond of mystery. This small indention of water had become quite infamous over the years, and it didn’t take me long to recognize where we were. We lingered a while since there was enough light to look into this dark lake of sorts to notice some fish were “belly-up”. Puzzled I leaned against an old beaver stump and studied the surface of the water. Soon the night creatures began declaring their thousand “knowledges”.
There was no light but that of the stars. Night had fallen. The corona borealis was near its zenith, and Venus was dominant in the south. Orion was riding the dark ridge behind me. Amadeus started making sounds and moans that were new to me. All of the sudden there was a BOOM!!! In the center of the lake, I first noticed small bubbles, then followed by an undescribable creature. It was about the size of a Volkswagen Bug! It curved at the neck which was about six feet long and had the head of a reptile!
At the first glimpse of Amadeus and me, it snorted a streak of tire and slowly started approaching us. I said to my inquisitive dog, “How in the he@! did that thing get HERE all the way from Scotland?!?”
So, with this gigantic creature on our trail, we cut our own path out of the valley. He was charging at us and up ahead stood the hairy giant waiting!! The hills on either side were so steep we didn’t make in time until the webbed feet monster had his knife and fork ready for dinner. I knew Amadeus could whoop them, so I wasn’t that scared. Before I knew it, my faithful companion grabbed the creature by the leg and “Big Foot” by another body part that apparently did the trick. With one unfailed swoop, the creatures yelped back into their posts with their “tails” between their legs, so to speak. I was yelling and running toward Amadeus to thank him and hug him for being such a hero.
Before I knew it, I was being shook and grabbed at. My eyes opened where my wife stood over me asking what in the world was going on. I immediately asked where was my favored dog, she said, “he is laying right beside the bed”. I asked Amadeus, “Did you have the same dream Ijust had?” he sat his head in my lap, looked up and moaned, “AAAAAAOOOOOOOOHHHHHHEEEEEE”.
Happy Halloween!
Fowler Stanton
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Riding My Bike to Work
Tuesday, June 02 2009 @ 08:30 CDT Contributed by: patclem
A friend of mine sent me this cartoon. I hope it's not gonna get me a cease and desist or something because of copyrights. I'll take it off if someone has a problem I guess. But, Pat = Jeff.
Rode my bike to work today. For as much as I spout off advocacy stuff, I don't practice what I preach nearly as often as I should. I should ride my bike to work every day.
Took off at 6:30am this morning. It's 12 miles towards the lousy side of town - Antioch. I only say the lousy side of town because the area is populated with middle class "working" people, and the area is generally forgotten about when it comes to improvements like bike lanes, sidewalks, etc. I'll write about the Antioch sidewalk problems another time. Needless to say, my bike commute is fraught with challenges. So what's it like to ride your bike to work? I'll try to explain some of the sights, sounds, and general experiences on my commute. Hopefully I can make it as interesting as I can.
Early in the morning, I share the road with very few cars, drivers usually polite because they've left early enough to make their commute a low-stress activity. It's great to share the road with these early morning folks (I wish everyone trapped in their box would leave a little earlier.) I also share it with folks out walking their dogs. They say if your dog is too fat, you're not getting enough exercise. Refer to the cartoon above!
Ah, the smells. Things come and go into bloom. On a bicycle, you can breathe that sweet scented air. Sometimes it makes me sneeze, but no big deal. I can usually smell other things - cologne if someone drives by me with their window open. Remember, it's early and it's all fresh. I can also smell people smoking. Marlboro Light - reminds me of some parties, night clubs, playing pool. That was the brand my friends used to smoke (and probably still do.) I'm so glad I never started smoking. When it's really hot and I stop by a smoker in a car at a light, no good memories there. I feel sorry for them - stuck in their car with their addiction ruling a small part of their life. I guess our addiction to cars can be just as bad. Refer to the cartoon above! (you couldn't understand the connection, could you?)
I rode down Thompson. Most of it has really nice bike lanes. The thermo-something decals are pulling up. I heard they're $800 each, and I think Nashville or Tennessee should get their money back. It reminds me every time about an email conversation with the state Bike/Ped coordinator about them. I was hoping they'd be fixed by now.
I cut over to Antioch Pike near a church. It's a middle-class neighborhood again. A bicycle really slows you down to take in the sights! Several of the yards are filled with yard art. One has at least a dozen fake deer in the front yard. Do they love deer, do they love to hunt deer, or did their friends "deer graffiti" their yard? My grandmother was "ping flamingo'ed" once. Her front door was surrounded with pink flamingos when she got home. Someone put an old toilet in our landscape, complete with petunias planted in it. Donna was angry, I was completely tickled, and no one has fessed up to the prank yet. Maybe a deer drinking out of the toilet would make a nice presentation.
When I arrive onto Antioch, I pass at least three schools. That section of Antioch is four lanes through a residential neighborhood. On the far end on Nolensville, there's plenty of shopping. Very little traffic occupies the area. A center turn lane, then a "road diet" to add bike lanes would be a great thing for this road, a great thing for the Antioch community, and a great thing for my commuting route! Someone needs to turn those drain grates perpendicular to the bicycle tire. Someone is gonna get hurt, and it might be me?
I finally arrive in the parking lot at work. It's a downhill glide across a huge parking lot, and I pass by where I usually park my car. It's a great feeling. Usually the security guard will unlock the door for me to get in, since my badge is usually tucked away somewhere inconvenient. I get lots of questions too when I see folks in the morning when I'm coming or going. Someone thought my Campy freewheel sounded like I had cards in my spokes. Most common question is how far I ride, and then how long does it take me. I usually return the question in hopes that I can convince them to ride too. (see cartoon above.) Most of them commute 20 or 30 miles from their urban sprawl. I'm going to write some day about why population density is a good thing.
OK, I've been summonsed to the Tivo to see some funny stuff from the first show in the new timeslot. Get out and ride your bike. The more bicyclists out there, the safer it is for bicyclists in general. (see cartoon above.)
Most Recent Post: 06/25 11:12 by Anonymous [ Views:: 617 ]
Taking a Walk
Sunday, April 12 2009 @ 11:36 CDT Contributed by: patclem
Donna and I walked over to her sister's house on Saturday. It's easily less than two miles, but the route travels across I-440 overpass and continues on 21st Avenue. Along the way, we were nearly run over three times, one time I had to jump back because the driver was speeding through a corner, looking back at traffic, and didn't see me until I screamed at him.
It's amazing how drivers are oblivious to bicyclists and especially walkers. Nashvillians believe that people that aren't driving solely have a responsibility to watch out for themselves. I think every bicyclist and pedestrian does have a responsibility to be safe. But by law, it's just the opposite. But somehow in Tennessee, if you get run over, the incident will likely be documented as a terrible unavodable accident. Even Grand Juries tend to pass incidents off as tragic accidents. The only exception is the drunk driver that runs over a pedestrian or bicyclist.
Take David Meek - an experienced cyclist in Chattanooga run down by some truck driver that didn't see him. Didn't see him? that MF that drove that truck should NEVER drive again. I seriously hope David's family sues the driver and the company he drove for into bankruptcy.
http://www.wrcbtv.com/Global/story.asp?S=9959220
This kind of injustice is not uncommon. This kind of behavior infuriates me - Traffic Justice must prevail. Citizens of Tennessee, I call on you to abandon your tolerance for this kind of injustice. I am so ashamed at old fashioned conservative ignorance. We must change the way people think. "Unavoidable accident" should be considered an oxymoron. All accidents are avoidable. Someone MUST be at fault.
Walkers are Bums or Lower Class Citizens - the common stereotype. I believe this is what most people think and I'll explain why. We were walking along 21st and I felt kind of funny - like people might think we didn't have a car, like maybe people thought we were walking because we couldn't afford a car, or we had lost our drivers license because we had a DUI or something. We had bags in our hands, so that probably reinforced the stereotype. Nashvillians think that if you're walking and you don't have exercise clothes on, you're at the bottom of the social food chain - can't afford a car, can't afford a bus ticket, you must have just gotten out of jail. I believe that THIS is the reason people don't walk. This has to change.
More Info:
http://bikeportland.org/2009/03/11/seeking-a-national-legal-standard-for-cyclists-right-to-the-road/
http://commuteorlando.com/wordpress/2008/11/25/traffic-justice/
http://www.bikewalk.org/tji.php
Most Recent Post: 08/31 08:04 by Anonymous [ Views:: 420 ]
Disappointed - Obama's Dog Choice
Sunday, April 12 2009 @ 08:20 CDT Contributed by: patclem
Oh, the great buzz around the new Water Dog in the Whitehouse! Oh, the new dog has that cute curly hair, he's non-allergenic. What a great thing for the girls! What a horrible sad day for shelter dogs, perhaps all dogs, everywhere in the USA.
The Obama family is tremendously popular. Michelle wears some brand or outfit, thousands run right out looking to mimic her. The Obamas choose a purebred Portugese Water Dog? Thousands, if not hundreds of thousands, head out hunting for one. What's the problem? Well, let me start a list:
Backyard Breeders and Puppy Mills - the United States is in for an explosion of poorly bred dogs - an invention of new genetic defaults from inbreeding and other behaviors. Here are the characteristics we'll see in the dogs of the future, from the AKC site on PWD:
1. Temperament--Shy, vicious, or unsound behavior.
2. Head--Unimpressive; small in overall size; narrow in topskull; snipey in muzzle.
3. Substance--Light or refined in bone; lacking in muscle.
4. Coat--Sparse; naturally short, close-lying hair, partially or over all; wispy or wiry in texture; brittle; double-coated.
5. Tail--Other than as described. Extremely low set. Heavy or droopy in action.
6. Pigment--Any deviation from described pigmen- tation; other than black or various tones of brown eye color; pink or partial pigmentation in nose, lips, eyes, or eye rims.
7. Bite--Overshot or undershot.
Start looking for thousands of PWD's with those seven characteristics. And you'll see the PWD rescue groups cranking up.
Intolerance for Behavior Problems - most dogs in shelters awaiting their death, or chained to a tree in the back corner of the yard are there because their owners have a lack of tolerance for behavior problems. My dogs are not the most obedient calm dogs in the world, but I understand what kind of behavior to expect.
"Oh, I have a Obama Water Dog! I'm so cool! I'm just like the Obama's! I'm showing my support of the pres!"
"Well where is she?"
"Oh, she's out in the pen in the back corner of the yard."
"Why?"
"She kept eating the baby's diapers, chewed my shoes, pee'ed on the floor, had diarrhea from left-overs, barked too much and tended to knock the kids over."
Shelter Dogs Awaiting Death - too many dogs,through no fault of their own, find themselves awaiting death at our county pounds and shelters. Most are there because of nuisance behavior problems that could be solved with some basic techniques, proper socialization when they're puppies or just some exercise (which would also benefit the owner.) Over 4 million dogs are put to death every year in shelters. It's sad that the Obama message couldn't include this. He should buy a Hummer next, to give Americans a role model to follow on energy issues.
In Closing....
I'm amazed at the lack of criticism of the Obamas and their dog choice. Multiple Google searches to see what kind of noise this is generating revealed very little. Is it because Obama is pro-environment, against seal killings, etc. On the positive, he has the opportunity to demonstrate proper dog ownership. There's already talk that the girls will walk the dogs, pick up the poop. I wonder if the dog will be allowed to dig up the vegetable garden and pee on the rug? If problems makes it public, then people will know what it's like to own a dog. I can see Michelle in one of those striking outfits, those arms and shoulders, on her hands and knees with "Nature's Miracle" cleaning up a dog diarrhea stain, with the Whitehouse photographer snapping shots! Ha!
Further Reading:
http://www.peta.org/feat-abc_campaign.asp
http://blog.peta.org/archives/2009/04/joe_biden.php
http://www.angelanimals.net/newobamadog.html
Take David Meek - an experienced cyclist in Chattanooga run down by some truck driver that didn't see him. Didn't see him? that MF that drove that truck should NEVER drive again. I seriously hope David's family sues the driver and the company he drove for into bankruptcy.