Kenneth Avery is a Southern humorist with well over a thousand fans. The charm and wit in his writing span a nearly a decade.
If You Really Want to Label Someone
then why don't we label the late Bob Ross, master painter and star of PBS, not just once, but on several stations. Ross was good. He was a good as the man himself. I know. I read his background and he was so slouch. Although when he first debuted on TV, that trimmed-beard and afro hairstyle might have labeled him as an old hippy. I say nay to these fools who would eve think such. Bob loved his painting. He loved his family and friends passionately. He grieved deeply when his brother passed away. Ross was sensitive through and through.
Ross was not what you call another "Sam Beckett," of "Quantum Leap," who designed this amazing super-computer and figured-out how to travel back into time to right wrongs that happened to the innocent as to make life smoother. Some leaping worked to a tee. Some backfired. QL's writers were very intelligent as they were talented. Bob Ross did not have to tell people that he was a sensitive man. He lived it.
When Ross dropped-out of school, he went to work helping his dad who was a carpenter. A good carpenter. 'Good' evidently ran in the Ross' blood. I say that because it sounded good and right, but my speaking and writing will not and cannot build a marble statue on the public court square for people to show their awe for Bob Ross. Fact is, he hated self-glorification. And it showed each time I watched his painting episodes--and would be watching one right now, but I'm busy telling you all about Bob Ross, which is far and away, not a bad gig.
The One Main Thing About Bob Ross
is very interesting. It has all and everything to do of why Ross always speaks in a low, almost-whispering voice. When Ross was in the drill sergeant, he was responsible for a number of employees who he had to order here and there--sometimes in a loud voice. But when Ross left the Air Force, after twenty years of service, he made a personal vow that he would ever raise his voice again. And I believe that he honored that vow.
How did our friend, Bob Ross pass away? He died from lymphoma at age of 52, on July 4, 1995, in New Smyrna Beach, Fla. A lot of art experts say that Ross' time in the Air Force is responsible for the influences he put in some of his paintings. I have tried to find people who did not like his paintings, but failed.
Do You Remember My Headline
about being "The Self-Proclaimed King of Pain?" Well, it's both comical and dramatic. I cannot discern which is which. I hope that you can when you read the following highlights
My "reign" began at age 11, when upon a beautiful summer day, my parents had to carry me to our family doctor for a check-up. Right off, I knew something was up, because when parents try to cover-up a doctor's visit on a summer day and when you are not sick, something is up. And that 'something' would put me into bed for at least two and a half weeks.
The Big Red Measles was the culprit of my early sickness. Did this childhood ailment hurt? Sure. What a stupid question! I was sick and could not hold any food down. For me, this was being very sick. But in time, God's mercy allowed me to recover from these painful, red blotches on my body and carry-on with school and life as it came.
(Here is a Short List of My Personal Accidents That Did Cause me Pain). ......
In Aug. 1961, I began (what was formerly called) grade school. New Home School was more like an area where Norman Rockwell would have loved, and lived there if given the chance. With it's two rooms, the school building was so humble and friendly because we were all farm children, so class didn't matter. Okay. On the first day of school in the first grade, I played in my first baseball game and was knocked cold by the big end of the bat when I played catcher for yes, the first time. Little did I realize that this accident was only the first of many needless accidents and thank God, I lived to share them with you.
At Hamilton Grammar School, In Nov. 1962, I was playing the game of chase and I was leading my captors. That was for that one instant when I glanced back to check my lead and I suddenly hit blue, yellow, and red stars. I had hit the edge of this huge marble door step decoration and my lady principal had to take me home because my folks worked for a living and did not have a telephone. This was round two.
Again, at Hamilton Grammar School, In Feb. 1963, I was having fun on our playground playing a rousing game of football when I took a hand-off and thought that I was going to score a TD, but a much-bigger kid saw me and put my back-end flat on the ground, but with this collision, I didn't see any stars in my head.
(Skip Ahead to Nov. 1969 at Hamilton High School)'.......
I was in the ninth-grade and I was given a day off because my mid-term scores were good enough for time served. So I, with the help of my good buddies, Gary, Glenn, and James Childers, who lived next door to me, got a good game of football going in their front yard. I was playing cornerback and saw James launch the perfect spiral headed to Gary who was almost in front of me---when I zoomed up and intercepted the ball and then Gary and I hit each other in the head and fell to the ground. The results: Gary suffered no sign from the accident. Me, I had hit Gary with my left eye and yes, it was swelled and turned a nasty blue for weeks. There is a truth about black eyes is that no one believes that a black eye was not from a fist-fight.e
In the same year, 1969, November, my pet black and tan dog bit me because he was sleeping very deeply and I just called him to get up and go with me. He growled, but I did not pay attention. Before I knew it, I saw his teeth sink into my left arm. I thought, you are only a pup, and why are you already hating me?
These Are Only a Small Example
of the accidents that I have had over the years mentioned above. They were all dangerous and I could have suffered a lot more than I did. Thank God for helping me live through my close-call's with danger.
So I am to compare my life with the late Bob Ross? I will not stoop that low to insult his good memory. I think that I will hand Ross the crown because the close scrapes that he has encountered, made mine look menial.
Just hand me the crown. I am (the) "Self-Proclaimed King of Pain."
And you have the nerve to call my mistakes accidents "happy?"
May 02, 2021______________________________________________
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