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Howard’s ‘Heaven’
There was an overflow crowd at Howard Pinkston’s funeral Monday night. The church was full of flowers and the morning newspaper was full of eulogies honoring the plainspoken County Commissioner and South Knoxville political leader who was known to his friends by his childhood nickname, “Nookie.” Clearly, he will be missed by many.
And probably nobody will miss him more than the constant companion of his last days, Lucky, who was adopted into the family a few years ago when Nookie rescued her from the weedy vacant lot where she and her siblings were born.
This was back in the days when Nookie and his brother, Paul, were running Pinkston Motors on Chapman Highway, dispensing good deals and political advice from the office of their car lot. Everybody has heard the stories about Fred Thompson starting his senatorial campaign at Pinkston’s, and most everybody who was running for something in these parts knew to pay the Pinkstons a call. Not as many people knew about the feral mutt the Pinkstons called Blackie who took up residence in the field behind the car lot. Blackie wouldn’t let anybody near her, but Nookie made sure she had food (sometimes dispatching anyone he could to Hardee’s for burgers for her) and shelter from bad weather. He ran off the dogcatcher a time or two, and when she had a litter of pups, he gathered them up and found them homes. He took one of them home to his wife, Libby.
His close friend Ray Hill recalls that Lucky was Libby’s dog until the Pinkston brothers retired and closed down the car lot, “... Then she sort of betrayed Libby and took up with Nookie.”
Lucky, who is exceptionally bright, was right by his side as Nookie Pinkston battled lung cancer. She’d sit at the window and watch for him when he’d go to the doctor. She’d lie by his side on the couch and eat licorice with him as they watched TV.
Hill, who is also a dog lover, often swapped dog stories with Pinkston, and he recalls a time when they were talking about the death of a friend’s beloved Scottie. Hill wondered whether pets and people would be reunited in the Hereafter.
“I’ll never forget what he said then,” Hill said. “He just laughed and said ‘Why hell yes, there are dogs there. Otherwise, how could it be heaven?’”
Vocabulary Malfunction
Sunday’s women’s basketball game between Tennessee and Vanderbilt was a hard-fought grudge match on the Vandy home court that saw the lead seesaw back and forth before the Lady Vols finally took control in the second half and won 94-88. The series has always been a lopsided affair (Tennessee leads Vanderbilt 42-6), so it’s probably understandable if there’s more passion among the Commodore faithful than that which is displayed by their orange-bedecked counterparts.
Sunday’s game provided some clear evidence of that passion when the camera panned the Vandy student section at Memorial Gymnasium and settled in on a group of “Maniacs” who evidently attempt to imitate the antics of Duke U.’s Cameron Crazies. Attired in school colors—gold fright wigs and black T-shirts bearing “Beat the Vols” messages, they were a happy, zany-looking bunch. As the camera zoomed in Sunday, the student cut-ups were ready for their close-up. They obliged the TV guys and started to chant
“F**k UT! F**k UT.”
Whatever happened to “Hi, Mom!” over there in the Athens of the South?
February 19, 2004 • Vol. 14, No. 8
© 2004 Metro Pulse
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