“With a heavy heart,” as Lyndon Johnson oft began his messages from the White House, I’m big enough to admit that I have been derelict in reporting the life and times of my younger brother.

Little Benny Wayne joined our clan on December 18th of 1939, and my dad Hugh opined that three time losers are sometimes loathe to fess up to their errant ways.  To mama Thel’s way of thinking, one more try at a daughter might pay off, but looking over her crop of boys she admitted that it was high time to drop out of the game.

At the time I was thirteen, John Franklin was ten and a glance would yield the cold hard truth that the line was not improving the human race.  Secretly I was of the opinion that they should have called it quits on November 22, 1929, which was my birth date.  I’ve seen several anniversaries of that day—but you should realize that your birthday occurs but once.

Anyways, what was done was done and Hugh and Thel had ample time to repent.  I’m sure they did.  When Little Benny Wayne was enjoying the antics of Dick, Jane and Spot, I was busily employed at Camp Chaffee Arkansas.  Hugh had shattered my Blue Willow plate and Garret Snuff tea glass, and had sawed my end of the bench off and utilized it as kindling for the cook stove.  It was a moving ceremony, but John Franklin and Little Benny Wayne chortled with glee and instructed me to bring them a surprise when I departed home and hearth to become a solider.

I had occasion to visit with Mr. C.M. Caraway just lately and learned that he served time with Little Benny Wayne in the De Leon Educational Facilities.

            “Sacre Bleu!” I expostulated.  “On August 9 your class will celebrate your graduation day back in 1948.”  I hurried home and conducted a full scale investigation into the adventures of Little Benny Wayne.

During the months of July and August I will chronicle the highlights of the celebrants of fifty long years which began back yonder in 1958.

Should any of that austere group be willing to share the golden moments which occurred around their date of destiny I would be much obliged to any recall they are willing to share.  My interest, of course, is whetted by an ambition to amass information relevant to that crop.

I am a veritable blotter when it comes to this compilation, and my telephone is ever listed on my weekly column.  Your accounts shall be faithfully recorded and presented in my inimitable fashion.

“All the news that’s fit to print” has served as my credo for the last sixth-two years, and I’m too set in my ways to not make sport of the faux pas of my fellow human beings—especially those of Little Benny Wayne.

Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis.

Let me hear from you.

My phone number is 254-893-5063.

My postal address is 333 W. Ayers, De Leon TX 76444.

You can e-mail me at Charles@CharlesChupp.com.

By Charles Chupp, Copyright ©2008 Charles Chupp