We went the cancer center this afternoon for Jimmy to get an infusion of Zometa, and while we were there, they did a CBC to check his blood counts. As we suspected, his red blood count is very low: it's up slightly from when we were at Emory ten days ago, but still so low his energy level is nil. He was so weak and pale today that I was afraid he was going to pass out. He's just going to have to forego his peanut and coke diet for a while, and choke down a steak or two. It's a shame he hates liver.

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Yesterday I went by to see my niece, Elizabeth Burns, my brother Mac's older daughter. Elizabeth and her husband Jonathan have two darling children: a son, Howell, who will be four in February, and a daughter, Berkley, about twenty months old.

Howell is friendly, outgoing, and very precocious, with a vocabulary that has been astounding us all since he was quite young. When he was not much over two years old, and barely potty trained, he was with his grandfather Mac one day. When Mac said, "Peuw! Howell! Have you messed up your pants?" Howell looked disdainful and answered, "Well, apparently so."

Mac was telling me today about Howell's recent conversation with a lady whom he had just met. She asked him if he was a hunter, and Howell replied that he was. "What do you hunt?" "Last week I got ten deer, twelve turkeys, and four astronauts!" Howell told her proudly. "FOUR ASTRONAUTS?" "Oh yes," sighed Howell, "only four. It was SO exasperating."

My computer has continued to misbehave. The computer guys at Jimmy's office have been working on it, and Robert came to the house this morning to make sure the problems aren't with the connections here. So far so good.

We found out Monday that grandbaby #3 is a GIRL!!! We've all been hoping for a girl so badly that we'd almost convinced ourselves that it was another boy. Not so with three year old William: all along he has steadfastly pointed to his mother's tummy and proclaimed, "Baby girl." This makes two boys and a girl for Rosey and Pat; now they just need to even it out with one more girl after this one.

We talked with Dr. Lonial on Monday: he had received the results of last week's tests, and we were very relieved that the protein levels are holding steady at 1.6, which means that the cancer is stable. This drug we've been waiting so long for is called AMD3100; Dr. Lonial says he has five other patients who are sitting on ready, just like we are, and he thinks we are very, very close to having it approved.

The plan right now is for us to go to Atlanta in the next couple of weeks and do the stem cell mobilization, which should take ten days or so. With that accomplished, we can be home for Christmas, and do the transplant the first of the year.

Jimmy's doing OK. The last few weeks have been hard for him, and he says he's sick and tired of being sick and tired all the time. He has a little fuzzy-wuzzy hair growing on his head now. He's also begun to experience a common chemo side effect that has not bothered him until lately: everything tastes bad to him. He says it's an unpleasant medicinal metallic sort of taste. The only things he likes are real Coca Cola and boiled peanuts - not exactly your well-balanced diet.

1AM We drove to Atlanta and back today for Jimmy to have some blood tests done. We talked with Dr. Lonial yesterday afternoon, and he wanted these tests, to make sure the cancer is being held at bay while we are STILL waiting for that confounded medicine. We could have had the tests done in Valdosta, but they send it off, and it takes longer to get the results, and results can vary from one lab to another. It just made more sense to get it done at Emory, so that we will be comparing apples to apples.

We left early this morning, and it was an easy drive up: it was a beautiful day, the traffic was light, and Jimmy was in good spirits. We were not at the hospital much more than an hour, and headed home. We had discussed whether or not to spend the night in the apartment and come home Wednesday morning, but we quickly dismissed that plan, as the traffic tomorrow will probably be horrendous.

The trip home was a bit more wearing. Traffic had increased considerably, and there were several episodes of crawling along at a snail's pace for miles and miles. Predictably, these occurred around the Eagle's Landing exit in McDonough, near Cordele, and in Cook County. We got home a little before seven; it was a very long day for Jimmy, but we're glad we did it. Now we have to pray for good results, which we should get by next week.

My computer at home is ailing, so I'm borrowing Jimmy's at his office.

We're in Valdosta, everything still maddeningly on hold. The waiting has become excruciating. Jimmy is doing well, but continues to suffer from the ill effects of the cytoxan, primarily fatigue. His typical schedule has been to get up at 10 or 11AM, go to lunch and to the office for a few hours, come home and take a nap, get up and eat supper, nap and watch television for a little while, then go to bed. He has adopted the sleeping habits of your average four-month-old baby.

Another side effect is that he's cold all the time. Last night he had the heat cranked up to 76 degrees, was wearing a cashmere sweater, and had a throw tucked around him. He was still shivering, even while drinking hot coffee, and I was sweltering.

His hair is trying to grow back. He's gotten a little fuzz on top, that looks a little like a military crew cut. You hear stories about a person's hair having a different color and texture after chemo, so maybe he'll have a head full of dark curls in a few months. There's never a dull moment with my Jimmy.

A Day in the Life

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Everybody's favorite perfectionist, Henry Powell, is like the calvary, always ready to come to the rescue of his faithful following, saving the day by solving many a design dilemma. His impeccable taste, his sense of style, his flair for the dramatic, and his keen eye for detail all contribute to making working with him such a joy.

Happy 60th Birthday, Stuart

Stuart with his daughter, Ellen Frances

Stuart Mullis is one of those larger than life people you sometimes have the good fortune to meet. Physically he's a big guy: he was an All American football player, playing lineman, tackle, and defensive end. He played for the Valdosta Wildcats, then at Fort Scott Community College in Kansas, and later for the Seminoles at FSU. He is still plagued by problems with his knees, the result of injuries sustained from all those hits he took on the playing field.

He has a big personality. When you think of Stuart, the first thing that comes to mind is his awesome wit. It doesn't matter if he's at a dinner party, or if he's the emcee at a charity auction, or if he's on the golf course, he dominates the scene with his charm and with his charisma. And invariably he has everybody laughing.

It's because of this impact of the obvious that one might not immediately notice his most outstanding characteristic: his big heart. In this world of givers and takers, Stuart is a Giver with a capital G. He loves his wife, he loves his children, his mother, his family, his friends, his community, and most of all, his God and his country. His generosity is boundless, as is his joy in giving.

Even his work is all about doing for others: he works tirelessly as the executive director for the Valdosta Habitat for Humanity. (One cannot fail to mention that Stuart owned and operated the legendary restaurant, J.P. Mulldoon's, for years, that gave everybody so much enjoyment, and that we all sorely miss to this day.)

Tomorrow, November 7, is Stuart's 60th birthday, so please, whether you know Stuart a little or a lot, or not at all, send him an email and wish him a happy birthday. He's one great guy. His email address is mullis@mchsi.com or smullis@valdostahabitat.org

Jake Kerns

Posing by the portrait I painted of him when we were thirteen years old is my friend Ed Hanahan. We met when we were six years old, when the Mackey clan moved into the house across the street from the Hanahans. The bond between us was instantaneous, and after fifty-two years, shows no sign of weakening. Ed has traveled and lived all over the world, and when he retired from American Airlines after thirty years, and moved back to Valdosta last year, his sister Eve (Renfro) and I were ecstatic. It's been wonderful having him home again.

This is Ed again, standing by the portrait I did of him in the early seventies, when we were in college. I called this his John Denver look.

When we were in grammar school, we were always coming up with schemes to make money to supplement our meager allowances. There was always the obligatory lemonade stand, but we sold Kool-Ade , because it was cheaper and easier to make.

We had a neighborhood newspaper, but we didn't sell too many issues, because pre-Xerox, we had to write every copy by hand. Daddy always bought one, and Mama saved them in a scrapbook, so I still have them. The newspaper was called The Teeny Tiny Times by the Itty Bitty Writers; Ed was the editor and I was the roving reporter.

One of our more innovative plots evolved after we found a pile of old bricks behind the Brights' garage. We dug a hole in the Hanahans front yard, and built a wall around it , calling it a wishing well. Then we sold wishes, one for a nickel, three for a dime.

If only life was still this simple.

The last twenty-four hours haven't been too pleasant for Jimmy; the cumulative effects of all his recent chemo have been building. He watched Georgia defeat Troy State this afternoon, and the fact that not a single peep was heard out of him during the entire game is an indication of how badly he felt. He even dozed off during the fourth quarter.

Andy seemed to know that Jimmy didn't feel so hot, and was worried about him. He has stuck to him like glue all day.

MRS. LESH!

Driving down Ashley Street this afternoon, I was witness to the most bizarre incident. I was in the southbound lane, headed to the cancer center to meet Jimmy, who was getting another little dose of poison, when all of a sudden, the car directly ahead of me started to fishtail back and forth, and sparks and fire and smoke began to spew from the undercarriage. As it swerved into the northbound lanes of oncoming traffic, the front left tire blew thirty feet through the air, then the front right tire blew off, and hubcaps and debris rained all around. I don't know why a car's two front tires would suddenly fly off like that, but it happened, right in front of China Garden Restaurant.

Tires were squealing as drivers in both lanes slammed on their brakes to avoid a collision. The stricken vehicle, an old model BMW, slid to a smoking stop, and several passengers exited the car, apparently unhurt. Police arrived, and traffic was snarled for many minutes.

I drove away thinking, "I wonder if those unfortunate people just bought that car from a used car lot." All I could think about was the old Andy Griffith episode where Barney Fife buys the old clunker from a con artist posing as an elderly lady named Myrt (Hubcaps) Lesh. Mrs. Lesh (played by Ellen Corby, who also played the grandmother on The Waltons), assured Barney that the only time the car had been driven was when she and her dear departed husband Bernard drove it to church.

Could it be that Mrs. Lesh is at it again?


[My son Max just reminded me of one his and Jackie's favorite lines, which came from Barney, reacting to Andy's attempts to talk him out of buying the car: " You smell gas? OF COURSE you smell gas! What do you think it runs on, COAL?"]

This is my cousin Riley Howard with his mother, my aunt Eleanor (my mother's sister), as they greeted guests in the receiving line at a reception and dedication ceremony at the Annette Howell Center for the Arts last night. It's not a good photograph, but it's the only one I have, because people kept stepping in front of the camera. Riley and Eleanor had big smiles on their faces all evening, so I don't know how I caught them looking so serious.

After the end of World War II, Eleanor and her husband Bill were stationed in Germany, where Bill was a pilot during the Berlin Airlift. Bill was tragically killed flying one of those missions, leaving behind his young widow and his nine-month-old son, Riley.

While living in Germany, Bill and Eleanor had fallen in love with German porcelain, and had collected a large number of exquisite pieces, predominately antique Meissen, some dating from the eighteenth century. Eleanor has recently donated her collection to the art center, where it can be enjoyed by our entire community, and a special gallery, named in honor of Bill and Eleanor and Riley has been opened to house it.

Jimmy was not feeling well last night, but I went for a while by myself, and the center was packed with people the entire time I was there.

Jimmy and I drove down to Yustega to have lunch with Gene and Lynan Zamba, who are doing a fabulous job of starting up operations for the hunting lodge. The place looks great, and gourmet chef Lynan fixed us one of her 5-Star menus. Their enthusiasm is infectious, and it helps us keep our minds off of our medical woes.

This is blackmail. Jimmy said that if I didn't put a picture of myself on this thing, he wasn't going to let me take any more pictures of him, ever again, so he turned the camera on me this morning.

Knowing how much Jimmy loves ice cream, Carolyn Eager stopped by our house on her way to work this morning to bring him a carton of a special brand she had found. We were both so happy to see her, and our visit was much too short. There is so much history between all of our families that it's hard to know where to begin. Jimmy lived across the street from Carolyn and her late husband Bill for years, and they were great friends, and raised their children together.Bill's parents, Dottie and Bill Eager, were some of my parents, Dottie and Berkley Mackey's, oldest and dearest friends. Carolyn's sister-in-law Josie and I have been friends forever.

I remember well the first time I met Carolyn. It was the summer of 1966, at the Eager's wonderful old family summer home in Monteagle, Tennessee. I was staying there with Josie and her parents, and Carolyn and Bill, only a few years older than we were, had recently met, and were courting. Josie and I, so silly and still in high school, never gave them a minute's peace. I can see it like it was yesterday, Carolyn and Bill sitting on the porch swing late in the afternoon, trying to have a quiet conversation, with Josie and me spying on them and taunting them incessantly, saying things like, "Love birds, love birds!," and making loud smooching noises. We were insufferable.