Wendy’s Angel

When I learned that mother was dying 3,000 miles away, I flew to Baton Rouge and went straight to her hospital. The night receptionist told me her room number, and, after I asked, directed me to a room dedicated to prayer and meditation. A few minutes later, I left the small chapel and rode the elevator to Wendy’s room in intensive care.

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Wendy’s Little Angel

Introduction to JipBook

A year before President Kennedy was assassinated, my grandfather, Edward Grady Partin, and Jimmy Hoffa planned to kill the president’s little brother, Bobby Kennedy, in the same way that President John F. Kennedy was shot and killed in November 22, 1963.

In 1962, Bobby Kennedy, whom had been appointed as the US Attorney General, and the FBI task force on organized crime and Hoffa’s Teamsters Union, knew of Hoffa and Partin’s plan. The infamous FBI director, J. Edgar Hoover, even warned J.F. Kennedy a few days before the president’s death that there was a plot to shoot him with a sniper rifle as he rode in his convertible through a southern town, but the president choose to ride through downtown Dallas. He was allegedly shot by Lee Harvey Oswald, who was shot and killed by Jack Ruby on live television two days later. But the files of warnings to Kennedy and the complete content of surveillance of Hoffa and my grandfather remained sealed until 1992, when President Bill Clinton released 30 years of congressional reports on President Kennedy’s assassination and posted them in the National Archive. I don’t know why they were withheld for allost 30 years.

A few years after President Clinton released the files, what was then the newly created internet suddenly allowed anyone in the world to read the official US conclusion on JFK’s 1963 assassination. By that time, relatively few did.

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Edward Grady Partin, 1924-1990

I arrived at my grandfather’s funeral riding a motorcycle and wearing my high school letterman jacket. I turned off the motorcycle and took off my helmet, left it and my jacket on the bike, and walked past a crowd of reporters and the mayor’s police escorts. But I couldn’t get past the crowd of people surrounding a handful of LSU football players who must have showed up just before I did.

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The car

Andrea and I arrived at her parents house and walked in, barely able to squeeze in the living room because of all of her dad’s partially completed projects and her mom’s collection of things that she felt added decor. Her mom waved from the kitchen, where she was feeding the baby. Alice, Andrea’s younger sister and the baby’s mom, was trying to clear away enough dirty dishes to make room for two boxes of Little Ceasar’s pizza, the one that had commercials with a tiny cartoon Caesar, dressed in a toga and chirping “Pizza! Pizza!” I devoured two slices while watching Alice learn to feed her daughter by helping her mom.

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The Emancipation Proclamation

Judge ???? peered down his nose at my paperwork, then looked up at me across the top of his reading glasses. He paused, then looked back down his nose and reread my request. A few seconds later he put down the paperwork, looked up at Wendy, took off his glasses, rested his arms on his desk, and leaned in towards Wendy.

“Miss Partin,” he said. “This is the first time I’ve been asked to emancipate a youth at their request.” Wendy looked up with a sad look on her face, but quickly narrowed her eyes and looked back down.

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Prince Edward’s Island

Some time after I saw Stevie Nicks and single handedly helped deliver phone books to all of Baton Rouge, I stayed with Uncle Bob and Auntie Lo for a while, and they took me to Disneyland to see my grandfather. Not Big Daddy, but Wendy’s dad, they said. He was a cartoonist there.

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Kelly Girls

The weekend after I saw Miss Nicks dance, Debbie and Wendy picked me up at Paw Paw’s and took me for a drive. The new phone books had come out and were piled so deeply in Debbie’s car that I had to sit on Wendy’s lap until we had delivered enough for me to have room in the back seat. It was always fun with them, they laughed and joked and never asked me what I did on my other weekends, so I never had to think hard around them.

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Stevie Nicks is fine

I said goodbye to PawPaw and crawled into my dad’s truck. I was anxious to show him my award from school for having drawn the best art in Baton Rouge for my age. It had been all over the news, but he didn’t have a TV. Even if he did, it’s unlikely he would have been awake at 7AM for the Buckskin Bill Black show that I watched with Paw Paw before school. But I wanted him to know that I had been on television and was famous, just like Big Daddy had been so much lately.

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My favorite Cajun joke about a tree

A construction site boss was interviewing men for a job, when along came Boudreaux. The boss thought to himself, “I’m not hiring that ole lazy cajun…”

He decided to set a test for Boudreaux, hoping he wouldn’t be able to answer the questions, and he’d be able to refuse him the job without any problems.

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