Who is Byron Temple

Hey Ya'll,

I'm from the great state of confusion, otherwise known as Kentucky. I live in a small town half-way between Possum Trot and Monkey's Eyebrow (actual names of towns). Some people call me Hillbilly, others call me BriarHopper. I just prefer Redneck, even though the title isn't completely accurate.

I have but one goal in my life and that's to keep on living till I'm dead. Sometimes that's hard enough. But you have to keep on trying, right? Never give up. So they say. Keep on keeping on, etc.

Being a Land Surveyor by trade, I've walked many a mile over these beautiful rolling hills and stood on the banks of the Mighty Ohio River and watched as the Mississippi Queen paddled her way down to New Orleans.

No, I'm not a city slicker. Never wanted to be one. I've been to the city and seen your concrete and steel. I'll just stick to my rivers and streams and the kind of folk you can count on in a pinch.

To get to know me, you have to know where I came from. And where I hail from is the sleepy little town of Kevil, Ky. That's right I'm a Kevil Devil. Not a very feared bunch in these parts, mischief to us was climbing the town water tower and maybe tee-peeing someone's house, but we sure thought we were a bunch of bad-asses growing up.

Growing up in the 60's, I went to the First Baptist Church, pitched baseball on our Little League team and my first car was a '68 Road Runner with a 383 Magnum. Sounds like your typical small town story so far, huh? Yeah, I reckon so. Except for the fact that I'm different from most people. Not in a gay way or anything like that. It's just that I think about things differently than most. And I write about these things and my life and the people I've encountered on this highway called life.

In the months to come I'm going to let you in on some of the adventures of my so called life and maybe you'll get a chuckle or two from it.

Later Dudes and Dudettes,
RedByron

P.S. Did you hear that J.Lo named her twins Max and Emme?

Day 2

Hey Ya'll,
I wanted to elaborate a little more on who I am and where I came from. (I know you're dying to know).

If you're wondering where my moniker (RedByron) came from, it started as the nickname (Red Baron)when I was younger. But when I started marketing on the internet that name, of course had already been taken so I modified it to RedByron. There is another RedByron who is famous. He was the first points leader when Nascar started, but that's another story for another day.

There is another Byron Temple who is famous for making pottery. Again another story.

Personally I was named after the famous poet Lord Byron. I never was crazy about my name because growing up everyone thought when I introduced myself, that I said Brian, Barn, Baron, or Burn. At least that's what they heard and that's usually what they called me, from there on out. Oh, well I've gotten use to it in the last 52 years.

Now, the little town I was raised in was Kevil, as stated earlier. But the town I was born in was Paducah, (half-way between Possum Trot and Monkey's Eyebrow). It's a nice little town named after Chief Paduke (an Indian).

One of the sites to see in Paducah is the Museum of the American Quilter's Society. The museum was founded by Bill and Meredith Schroeder in 1990. It is the home of the American Quilters Society, National Quilt Show week (3rd week in April). People come from all over the world to display and check out hundreds of different varietys of quilts.

You can't find a room for miles around. We always say you have to watch out for all of the "Blue Hairs" (old women), that week, 'cause they come by the bus loads. If you would like to learn more about MAQS go to www.quiltmuseum.org

Day 3

Growing up in western Kentucky was sweet. We lived in the country, me, my mom and dad and 2 brothers. We weren't farmers, though most were, in that neck of the woods. My dad worked at Union Carbide, a gaseous diffusion plant about 5 miles from where we lived. We grew up playing out side with our friends. Riding bikes on gravel roads, shooting our bb guns, playing ball, and exploring the woods behind our house. We got up early every morning and rode the bus to school.

We had a creek that ran behind our Elementary School, that we use to go play in during recess. One day I was playing with some of the older boys (I was in first grade) and I had on a new sweater because it was kind of cool out. I was leaning out over the creek grabbing on to an overhanging limb, when all of a sudden the limb broke and I fell headfirst into the cold creek. I was drenched head to toe. Well, needless to say I was crying like a first grader all the way back to school, where my teacher took me to the janitor's room and had me change into some warm, dry, clothes. I seem to remember that the only underwear available was some girls' panties. Oh well, as I said, they were dry.

While we were still kids, Dad took the family to St. Louis to see our cousins. They were two girls, roughly our age. They had a concrete drive beside their house that ran downhill. Would have been good for skateboarding, although we didn't know what a skateboard was back in those days. It was in the 60's. Dad had bought me a new pair of Florsheim Wingtip shoes. (Dress shoes for those of you born after the 60's). Well my cousins had a red wagon and I was riding in it and steering it with the handle and I was flying down that steep driveway. I would go down, then pull it back up to the top and start all over again. The sad thing was I had been dragging the toes of my new shoes to slow me down before crashing into the chainlink fence. After about 100 trips up and down the drive, you could just about see my toes through my new shoes. Dad wasn't too thrilled about that.

Day 4

I was a "Baseball Hero" in my hometown. I was the pitcher for our Little League Team. We even had jerseys to wear. Some of the local teams had to wear T-shirts. We had the greatest coach. His name was Ed and if some of the kids weren't there when we were ready to play ball, he would drive over and pick them up, no matter how far away. He was the one that always kept the ballpark mowed, too. No one cared about us kids as much as him. He's dead now but I know he earned his way to heaven.
There was an old barn out past right field and every so often I would knock a home run by hitting the ball so hard it would land on that tin roof. That was always a good feeling.

I didn't get a car till I was 17. It was a '68 Road Runner with a 383 Magnum. That car would run like a striped ass ape. Me and my buds had some great times in that old car. It was red, with Crager Mags, air shocks, and a Craig Powerplay stereo. We use to go to town every weekend and cruise the Dairy Queen, the bowling alley, and the park.

I moved out on my own when I was 20 and I bought a brand new 1976 Honda 750 bike. My buddy bought a '80 LowRider Harley. We put a lot of miles on those bikes, cruisin' the coutryside with coolers strapped on the back, full of beer. Times were different back then. Cops didn't mess with you much unless you deserved it.

When I turned 22 I moved to Maryland, about 20 miles from Washington D.C. One of my best friends went with me and we went to work for his Uncle who owned a steak house. He had a bar-b-que pit on the side and that's where we worked. We took turns every morning getting up and starting the fire and cooking the meat. Boneless beef knuckles and pork butts were our specialty. We lived close to the Patuxent River, so we bought a boat. A 22' Thompson with a 350 inboard outboard OMC engine. That's where I learned to water ski.

We had it made. 22 years old, a nice ski boat, free meals out of the bar-b-que pit, and beer at wholesale prices. We lived in the back of the steak house. It use to be an old casino with one arm bandits and an escape door built-in the wall in case the feds came bustin' in, (back in the 40's).
We were skiing one day and one of our buddies girlfriend was trying to learn to ski. She finally got up and when she did her top had come down, exposing one of her boobs. We were yelling at her and motioning for her to stuff it back in, but she didn't know what we were talking about , until she fell. Then she figured it out. She was pretty embarrassed, but we got a good kick out of it.

Day 5

Later when I was about 25 I moved to Houston, Tx. with another buddy of mine. I got a job on an oil rig. I was a worm, (low man on the totem pole). I worked for Haliburton, driving semis' out to the rigs. We hooked up to the wellheads after they were through drilling and we pumped concrete down around the annulus to cement the pipe in the ground. It was a nasty job. 24 hours on call and you might be gone days at a time.
I was an electrician for a while after that and while working on a scaffold one day it collapsed and me and another guy fell about 25 feet to the concrete below. I broke both of my feet, (landed like a cat), and the other guy had internal bleeding, but we both survived. I was engaged at the time and did get married with one cast still on my leg.

After we got married we moved back to Paducah area and I went to work at Wal-Mart as the Sporting Goods manager. It was a brand new store and I got to shake Sam Walton's hand when he came for the Grand opening. He seemed like a down to earth kind of guy. They said he liked to bird hunt and he took his dogs with him on his plane when he'd fly somewhere. His favorite was Old Roy. That's what he named his Wal-Mart brand of dog food.

Years later I went to work for a surveying company in Paducah. The owner's name was Dummer. So most people called us "Dumb & Dumber". We'd say there's other survey companies, but we're Dumber.
Well, I'm at the limit of characters I can use, so I will continue this crazy, freaky, so called story of my life another d

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