Moormanism #30, 10-12-72, From McLeansboro Times Leader; McLeansboro,Illinois #Moormanisms

He used one of his causes again and also showed concern whether what he was doing was being accepted. This, I felt, was unusual because Hank, at face value, didn’t care how people looked at him.

MOORMANISM #30, 10-12-72
A man told me he couldn’t remember anything he read or heard anymore. He should count his blessings.
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There’s one thing for sure that I don’t know, and that’s how much I don’t know.
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When I was going to college we had a Queen for everything and a King for nothing.
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When I cuss someone I know they ain’t much worse than I.
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I have been cleaning moss out of a pond by hand, and an old bass surfaced yesterday and said, “Did you lose your home and move in?” 
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Let’s clean up McLeansboro Lake. Let’s rake the moss out with motor boats and a make-shift rake, if necessary. Let’s do something about it besides talk. McLeansboro Lake is an example of our thinking, “moss and weeds”. 
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There’s this woman I know, I’m going to do her a favor. I’m going to write a plastic surgeon in St. Louis to see if he can make her a nose a foot long. Then she can get into everybody’s business.
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The deepest hurt I have is that life is swiftly passing me by and I would like before I go to leave some good.
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This “bull-only” that I write..... Why not write the editor and tell him what you think. Do you or do you not want it discontinued.
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The rats had a big time in my house at night. I think they play football. Twice I have broken up the game by shooting through the ceiling. I’ll say one thing for them, they sure score a lot of touchdowns. 

MOORMANISM #33, 11-23-72, From McLeansboro TimesLeader;McLeansboro,Illinois #Moormanisms

 Sometime ago I was alongside the Skillet Fork River. That river is incomplete. It needs a knife and spoon.

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We shouldn’t destroy any more woods in Southern Illinois. What’s it going to be like in the 90’s? What’s it like now? In most cases, money is of less importance than the trees. I feel people of our age need to leave some good behind and destroying trees is contrary to the need. Of course, forest management is something else. Why destroy whole wood lots?
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Once, Dad and I had an argument. He stated animals couldn’t think and I said they could. He stated animals act by instinct and I said my observations told me different. Dad said, “Come and talk to me again in five years when you have learned to think.” At least he gave me credit for being a human, if a slow one.
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In life there are things one must or should know. In life there are things nice to know. In life there are things not worth knowing. What do you need to know?
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I went into a bank in another city and wanted a loan to pay for my pond. The banker said, “If I were you I wouldn’t have any more ponds dug.” I replied, “I wanted those ponds, and if I were you I’d just take care of this bank.”
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Not long ago a pretty kid came up the street wearing shorts shorter than shorts. I said to the fellow sitting with me, “What pretty legs!” I meant for her to hear. A few days later I saw her wearing a dress like Tecumsah’s wigwam.
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At the market I purchased a peach pie. I cooked the pie and it was good except they forgot to put the peaches in it. Note I said peaches, not peach. 

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I have some turkeys. They gripe, moan, and groan even more than people. 

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Actually you shouldn’t talk about anyone because you might say a thing against a hidden friend. This hidden friend might do something for you someday. When you die he might come to your funeral.
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A few days ago I put some cornbread in my oven at 9 a.m. When I checked on it at 12 noon the next day, it was done.

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I was digging into an old well when this thought came to me. Mistakes as well as guilt are made to be buried and forgotten and never brought to mind. If anyone reminds you more than once of a mistake you made, forget him.

MOORMANISM #32, 11-9-72, From McLeansboro Times Leader; McLeansboro,Illinois #Moormanisms

On my dad’s side the Moormans in name are all gone except me. And with me, that’s the same as all gone.
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I was asked if I caught any water for my ponds. I thought the ponds were doing well enough without me, therefore I didn’t help.
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We must be living in precarious times. Several have told me lately to “Be careful”. 
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A man told a woman he would get the door for her. That one stops me. 
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I made some home brew and a man told me to feed it to my rats. I do not want to be in a house with drunken rats.
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A bartender told a customer, “We only have two deadheads in here,” and the place was crowded. Actually, he didn’t even know me. 
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The real cause of such things as murder or other hideous acts may never be known by anyone. How many times have we stated that this caused this and think we are correct.
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Gray foxes are older than red foxes because they are gray foxes.
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The one about murder is classic Hank. He is taking a stab at those experts who think they know all the whys and wherefores. I think that if he were living today, he would be shaking his head. Every time you turn the TV on there is someone analyzing every act of violence or every political strategy. There are so many different slants on every issue, and each expert thinks he or she is right.
I also wonder what he would think about all the so-called scientific studies about exercise and everything we eat. It seems that every food that has been proven beneficial is also found to be bad for us. Hank would probably say that life is terminal and why worry and spend money for all these fancy studies. Things happen; living and dying go on. 

Moormanism #29, 9-28-72, From The McLeansboro Times Leader,McLeansboro, Illinois #Moormanisms

Hank was good at seeing through people, at getting to the point, and to seeing what was important. Some of his writings are about people in need and how hard it is to cure an obsession or addiction.

MOORMANISM #29, 9-28-72
When a father drinks and/or gambles, his kids pay in more ways than one usually. 
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A man told me he had sense he had never used. He needs to use it. 
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A human in adversity needs more than a donation. 
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When one has an obsession, to change it in most cases would be like trying to put a drain in the bottom of the Pacific Ocean.
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I went to the Eagles and won a frying pan. A gal said, “Now you can cook up a storm.” I wondered where that last one came from.
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There are two songs in particular that make me see red. One is “Everybody’s Got One”. I should hope so. The other is that the “Candy Man Makes the World Taste Good”. It makes me sick at my stomach. 

Moormanism #31, 11-2-72, From The McLeansboro Times Leader; McLeansboro, Illinois #Moormanisms

He again took out an ad, maybe to appease the publisher or editor. He still used humor in it.

MOORMANISM #31, 11-2-72

For Sale – One log barn three stories high. One more story and the barn would have been a book. Probably built pre-Civil War. Long hand-hewn beams in excellent condition. Ira E. Moorman, McLeansboro, Ill. 62859. 

Moormanism #28, 9-21-72, from The McLeansboro Times Leader, McLeansboro, Illinois #Moormanisms

Humor, wisdom, and philosophy in short takes:

It’s funny. When one is about ready to live, life’s about over. ... 

A man told me he is going crazy and asked me how to live with it. “Don’t worry,” I told him. “Just look at all those so-called normal people, and you can’t do much worse.”

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Don’t dislike anyone. Some people like to be disliked.

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“Enjoyed your stuff last week,” a man told me. “Thanks,” I replied. “A little fantasy goes a long way sometimes.”

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I have a bird dog. I can cover more ground in a fast walk than that dog. He went on point the other day and it took two chiropractors and 20 teakettles of hot water for him to move again. When Lake McLeansboro freezes over, it should take him about 10 years to skate across it.

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Some people living today think they will never die because they are too important. ..........

I hear people say they’d like to live the good old days again. Consider it. First of all, make a few trips to Mt. Vernon in a buggy. Prepare to lose part of your children to an early death. My grandmother lost five kids in less than two months. Go and plant a hundred acres with a team of horses. Spend a whole week cutting your firewood. How would you like to ‘put up’ with the old method or feed a thrasher for a week? How would you like to walk 20 miles to play a ball game? Don’t forget about scrubbing the clothes all day on a washboard. It’s only a few miles to walk to school and a few miles to walk back. Would you let your child walk that far today? We’d be tougher if we went back to the old days, but would you really trade your easier life and conveniences. The only thing good about the good old days was some of the good old people.

Carl Mauck on Ira Eugene Moorman “Udderwise” known as Hank

The greatest generation produced many unique characters that defended freedom against the Nazis in Europe and the Japs in the South Pacific. My father Walter A. Mauck fought in the Pacific for four years. My Uncle Carl W. Frey fought in the Pacific in the navy. A Jap Kamakazie plane hit his ship. He didn’t come home. The greatest generation produced men like George S. Patton, Dwight Eisenhower, John F. Kennedy, and Ted Williams. Some unforgettable characters were part of this generation. One such character was McLeansboro’s Hank Moorman. He was a shell shocked veteran of W.W. II and Korea who knew my Uncle Carl W. Frey and went to school with him. I guess that’s why I took Hank Moorman to every baseball game and fast-pitch softball game that I played in during Legion Ball and Independent Ball in Southern Illinois.

He would get dressed up every Sunday in his suit and starched shirt and tie. Clean shaven he waited on my Grandma’s back porch until we were finished eating. I always slipped something out to Hank. Christina Frey knew I was doing it but she had a soft spot in her heart for old Hank because he went to school with her son Carl. We would go to the ball game with Moorman singing songs all the way. He would sing Beautiful Katy I’ll Be Waiting at the K-K-K Kitchen Soon, When Those Golden Bells Will Ring for You and Me, church songs, military songs, we sang them all. By the time we got back from the game, Hank’s sleeves were rolled up and the coat was off, tie was loosened and a cigar stuffed into his crew-cut jaw. Even when it was a home game, he still came by for his ride to the game.

Hank loved the game of baseball; he loved the boys that played the game. Dick Auten and Harold Pryer were our official coaches but Hank coached everybody on everything from throwing a knuckle ball to swinging a bat. We went to Chester Prison one Sunday for a softball game. We only had eight players so Hank had to play right field. When the game was over, the prison guard didn’t want to let him go. He had a pair of blue jeans, an old gray shirt, black work shoes, and always a cigar. We finally convinced them he was with us and they turned him loose. He came to Southern Illinois in the fall of 1968 (my senior year). He came to the football office and my football coaches had an interesting afternoon. I walked in for practice and there was Hank entertaining the troops.

He did it all when I was growing up in McLeansboro, Illinois. He shot up the pool hall and the American Legion when the men took some of his money on payday. He drove to Marion on I-57 the wrong way from Benton to Marion. He told me he wanted to enter the ‘Do Not Enter’ sign on the highway. He coached a Little League team to the Summer Championship. He put gasoline on the field and lit it on fire so we could play that night.

He was a poet “I am gonna get that coon and it’s going to be pretty damn soon!” He wrote for the Times Leader. He took Rod Pryer and myself to St. Louis one day for a tryout but the Cardinals were out of town. It took us a while for us to forgive him for that one.

I was playing for the Houston Oilers and after one of our good years, I brought our Hi- Lite film home and got a projector and took it to Hank’s place. He was living in town. He always wanted to know about football. I showed him the hi-lite film and he finally thought that it was ok for me to play football. He told me he had cancer (I already knew) and he showed me the red marks where he had cancer. He told me, “Carl, I am going to beat it.” He told me the town always thought old Hank was dumb but he showed me an insurance policy. He took it out for $100,000 two months before he was diagnosed. He made two payments on the policy before he died. Old Hank was laughing about that when I left the house. He was gone shortly after that day.

There are many people that are gone from those days including Harold Pryer who took us all over Southern Illinois playing baseball. He didn’t say much but he saw a lot, and he was always for us. Those days were special to us, dusty ball fields, uncut grass, old uniforms, playing double headers, legion tournaments, and last but not least the ever presence of Ira Eugene Moorman, otherwise known as Hank.