Hoppers and Yankees

 In 2012, the extended Hopper family spent New Year’s Eve celebrating our Christmas.  This year it was my turn to host the extravaganza because there are five of us, we all take turns hosting Christmas. This year I decided to host it at our home in Chilton County rather than in Linden. 

There were a couple of reasons for the location change.  One is that we all have homes in the Chilton/Bibb county area even though one brother lives in Robertsdale and I in Linden.

Second, I did not know if Marengo County or the City of Linden could endure more than three Hoppers.  Third, my home/farm has enough room for frying fish, shrimp, and oysters, riding four wheelers, shooting fireworks, and parking cars.

It is hard to imagine that Mom and Dad started what has become a large extended family.  I watched in wonder as my nephew’s little boy Mason explored my backyard.  The wonder was not his exploration, but his importance.  Mason is the first male Hopper great grandchild.  He is not the first great grandchild or the first great grandchild male, but he is the first Hopper male.  As I held Mason in my arms, it was a defining moment.  The oldest male Hopper, holding the heir to the Hopper name.  A baby of the 1950’s was holding a new millennium baby.  The new replacing the old.  The thought of one who is in the final stages of his time is now holding the one who has yet to make a complete sentence.  What made the whole episode special was as I held Mason he wanted a drink of my root beer.  I gave him a sip and he confiscated my whole cup.  He teased me by giving it back only to want another sip.  As I put him down, he walked away with my root beer.

That is the way of life, new replacing the old.  With that thought, I can’t help but think of a humorous incident that happened on Tuesday before New Year Eve.

We had a rendezvous with friends from Llano, Texas at Gulf shores after Christmas.  Our rendezvous point was the Waffle House in Gulf Shores.  I don’t particularly care for the Gulf, but winter makes it nice.  It’s not too hot, the shore is deserted, and the restaurants are very available.

It is always terrific to see our friends, so we gathered at the tables beside the high bar.  For those who do not know, booths are not made for real men.  Every restaurant where we went in Gulf Shores, I requested a table.  I want to be conformable when I eat.  I usually eat at the high bar at Waffle House, but when with more than three friends, I try to eat at a table for collective talking.

While there, Waffle House began to fill with snowbirds, which are Yankees or people from “Up North.”  I do not know why, but for some reason people from “Up North” enjoy Southern hospitality, but they have never acquired any for themselves.

After enjoying a wonderful breakfast and catching up how everybody was doing and the adventures of traveling, I decided to pay the bill for breakfast.  I learned a long time ago in Union work that the meal to buy everyone is breakfast.  Dinner and supper are more expensive.

Everyone continued to share old times and drink coffee, water, or orange juice.  As I waited for the waitress, I noticed that a snowbird roosted in my sit.  Now mind you, I was not finished with my coffee.  The snowbird sat down between my son Aaron and our friend Ruby.  Mrs. Ruby, my dear friend from Llano, did not know that I had gone to pay the bill.  From the corner of her eye, she saw a glass of water sliding toward her plate.  She was startled when she turned to see a strange snowbird in my place.  To Aaron’s right, a female snowbird sat in an empty seat.  Another snowbird, with his hands on the back of the chair, stood over Aaron.  You talk about an awkward moment.  I have had some very interesting visits to the Waffle House, but his one takes the cake, or I guess you could say takes the waffle.  I am glad that Aaron is a gentle giant and has a soft spot for people “who don’t know no better” or there may have been an injured snowbird in the Waffle House.

As Aaron looked up at the snowbird, the snowbird asked if the seat was warm.  I know snowbirds come South to escape harsh winters, but taking a young man’s, and his dad’s, seat is RUDE.  Scaring an eighty-year-old woman from Llano is dim-witted.  The moral of the story is that there is always someone waiting to take your place whether you are finished or not.  If we live long enough we will see many more New Years.

 Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new (Second Corinthians 5:17 KJV).

. And he that sat upon the throne said, Behold, I make all things new (Revelation 21:5 KJV).

Since 2012 Mason has been joined by a brother Gavin, a cousin Clark, and a cousin coming in the spring named Jesse James Hopper.  Long live the Hoppers.  We do have cousins in Illinois and my brother David was born in Wisconsin.

Spring Break

Since it is Spring Break, many will be headed to exotic destinations.  A majority of High school and college students will head to the beach.  The beach is attractive, but I do not care for it.  I do meet friends each year at Gulf Shores, Alabama for Christmas.  On one occasion, I observed “Snow Birds” enjoying the beach and I was inspired to write the following poem.

FLEEING THE TEMPTER

A seagull chases a killdee* up and down, round and round.

As long as the killdee flees, the seagull cannot catch it.

So, in its illusiveness they race just inches above the crashing and roaring waves.

Children play in the sand, some tiptoe to the edge of the sea’s invitation to dive into its threshold.  In innocence, they laugh as incoming waves chase them away from the sea.

Guardians along the shore keep watch over the naïve younglings.

Seagulls stand guard and await the seas invitation to dine upon its continual supply of refuse, trash, and skeletons of creatures fallen in the sea. 

The temptation is too great for them and they feast. 

Unnoticed, people walk by the seagulls that focus on the sea’s roar calling to dine.

Some walk along the waters edge slowly seduced by the hypnotic voice of the deep.

Quickly escaping the tempter’s snare, they flee the cold chill of the rushing waves.

Briskly they saunter along the shore with no destination in mind.

Leaving their footprints upon the sands of time, troubled waves wash them quickly away.  Slowly they fade way leaving no evidence that have resisted the seas continual seduction.

The older generation sits and reflects upon the repeated temptation of the sea as it vacillates.

It reminds them of life’s continual restlessness that will continue long after they are gone. 

They reminisce of childhood sand castles that vanished long ago with the shifting sand. 

They think of romantic yesterdays as they watch two lovers embrace as the waves crash to shore.  They think of past passions as the sun is seduced and slowly enters into the sea. 

In the seduction, the sun loses its brilliant glow and blushes as it kisses the sea.

Only moments before, the sun’s flame had made the sky crystal clear, pure, and virgin blue.

It sparkled like a diamond in the cold winter air penetrating the air with a warm embrace. 

The sand that glistened as a bride dressed in white meeting her groom, now besmirched.

Suddenly, the seagull stops his pursuit of flirting killdee.

Temptation to dine overcomes the seagull as it dives into the sea for its prey.

Resist the devil, and he will flee from you (James 4:7b KJV).

*Killdee is a small bird that runs along the beach.