Morning Mississippi

This is the morning haze and frost of Fulton, MS, small town about 30 miles east of Tupelo near the Alabama state line. Frost almost looks like snow.

It's a Dog's Life

This is my aunt's dog, Sheba. Sheba is the happiest dog yet she seems to have not that much to be happy about. It's about 34 degrees in this photo and probably the eve prior it got down to the upper 20's. She's an outside dog and never is permited inside(country dogs are NOT allowed inside for any reason, some would think it like letting your cows in the house,...not my way of thinking, but it exists). Yet look how blurry her tail is. That's because it's wagging,...and she does her version of smiling too,....alot. More than I do and I know I have a much better lifestyle. Maybe I could learn a valuable lesson from Sheba and wag my tail and smile more often, even when I think I've got a dog's life. Merry Christmas Sheba!

Christmas Memories Already

This was a family photo from our Christmas in Texas prior to hittin' the road for Alabama Monday, 12/19. We were blessed to have Eleanor and Michael Walker spend some holiday moments with us. The other two are Amy and Holden. You can use your imagination to move me from behind the camera to the composition, if you wish(maybe over Michael's right shoulder would provide some balance for the photo). Merry Christmas! Attend a church on Christmas Sunday that isn't closed in honor of Jesus's birth!(my little pet peeve that I will not go in to).

Merry Christmas to you and yours! This is one of my favorite songs of the season. We have it on cd and prior to cd's we had it on tape, both renditions from the King's College Cambridge Choir,...in England. Wouldn't be Christmas without it!

The Infant King
Words: Sabine Baring-Gould
Music: Basque Carol

1. Sing lullaby!Lullaby baby, now reclining,Sing lullaby!Hush, do not wake the Infant King.Angels are watching, stars are shiningOver the place where he is lying.Sing lullaby!
2. Sing lullaby!Lullaby baby, now a-sleeping,Sing lullaby!Hush, do not wake the Infant King.Soon will come sorrow with the morning,Soon will come bitter grief and weeping:Sing lullaby!
3. Sing lullaby!Lullaby baby, now a-dozing,Sing lullaby!Hush, do not wake the Infant King.Soon comes the cross, the nails, the piercing,Then in the grave at last reposing:Sing lullaby!
4. Sing lullaby!Lullaby! is the babe a-waking?Sing lullaby!Hush, do not stir the Infant King.Dreaming of Easter, gladsome morning,Conquering Death, its bondage breaking:Sing lullaby!

New Englander

Well, I have been in New England now since Tuesday(Boston and New York). Nice place to visit(in Boston on business, in NYC visiting my brother). These are much more beautiful than the state within which I now reside. Incredible amounts of significant history,...not that Texas history is insignificant,...it's just that you can't compare the founding fathers to the Alamo crew,...and not that that was a less important or somewhat of a second class act of patriotism,...it's just that you couldn't have the second without the presidence set by the first. I had clam chowder and lobster and lobster bisque and last, but certainly not least, Boston creme pie. The first two were good, the third was too salty, and the fourth was worth the trip to Boston independent of anything else. Took the train from Boston to NYC, to visit my brother. Tons of snow this am(Friday),...but it melted off. Saw Matt, Katie and Al as I stood in the huge flakes of snow getting drenched as it kept collecting on the ledges of my coat as it draped on my body. I would occasionally dust it off,...but to no avail. It was coming down that hard. I was so soaked, I had to take the NBC studio tour and saw the SNL set and the Conan O' Brian Show set(really smaller than they appear, amazing). NYC is fun, but I will definitely have to go back to Boston. So much history, so little time. I was only able to take a couple of steps on the Freedom Trail. Still have a day and a portion(Sunday) left here. Drank a martini(or two) in the Algonquin Hotel(photo of lobby bar above) in Manhattan, where several famous patrons drank them, including author, Dorothy Parker, whose quote graces their cocktail napkins, "I love a martini - but two at the most, Three I'm under the table; Four, I'm under the host." Hope she had someone to pay for those four martini's. I think the $14 included a surcharge for atmosphere. You can't feel that atmosphere like you can feel a martini.

Racoon in the Rafters,...
Bats in the Belfry, Cats in the Cradle, Man in the Moon

Our house is a funky 1959 home with exposed beams throughout the structure. This morning at 5:50 AM as I was heading for the gym, I walked out to get the paper and my motion sensor lights came on(normal). I happened to glance back at my car,...and noticed a furry tail in the rafters above the storage area, above my car. It was black and grey striped. I moved in for a closer look. It was a racoon! He was just lounging on the beam, probably just settling in for a long winters nap(it's chilly this morning). He seemed to have the same expression, staring into the bright flood lights, that my son has when I first turn the lights on in his room on a school day morning. But he must have known the light cycle, that they would go off in 10 minutes,...cause he wasn't moving. He didn't seem afraid of me,...and for good reason. Actually for two good reasons,....1. sharp teeth and 2. sharp claws that racoons are not afraid to use, especially if they are awakened from a sound sleep by a bright light. The photo is dim due to inadequate light(which is why he chose that spot for sleeping in the day,...they are nocturnal you know). But this morning he was "lit up" with my two 150 watt flood lights, which well illuminated the subject. He looked friendly, cute and cuddly,...but I know better. I even spoke to him(first I checked to see if I had any early rising neighbors to judge me looney) . I just spoke two words,...."kill rats!",...seems we have had a dry summer and the rat population has increased("we haven't had rain in months!", cried Minnie, then with passion in her eyes she grabbed Micky by the lapels and lustily whispered, "take me now you big rat, you!"). Then I went to the gym, after my work out I picked up the kids at 7:15 to take to school. I relayed the story to them and they wanted to stop and see if he/she/it was still there(our house is on the way),..and it was still snoozing, facing away from the light. One carpooler is a 5th grade boy and a big hunter, said he could exterminate it for me. I said no thanks,...the racoon may be exterminating for me("kill rats!"). He was still out there when I returned from the school run at 8. I don't think he's moving until evening(they are nocturnal, you know). Sleep well little racoon and appreciate my peaceful and gentle hand, for surely my ancestors would have knocked you in the head with a shovel and thrown you in the oven with some taters.

Thanksgiving for One

Well,...the big experiment is over,...and I have survived being alone at Thanksgiving. Though I had multiple invitations for Thanksgiving Dinner(wouldn't want anyone to think I smell bad or don't have any friends,...I smell good and have plenty of friends, it was "dealer's choice"). I cooked breakfast and watched a little pre-parade,...then turned to Turner Classic Movies for the rest of the day. Kind of just kept that on all day. Didn't switch to football or even channel surf prior to deciding on TCM. Couldn't really tell you the movies I watched,...it was almost like background music. I kind of cleaned up the house and vacumed and washed some clothes(they're still in the dryer). I actually walked out of my house only three times: to get the newspaper, to put something in my car and to fire up the grill for hot dogs(no turkey for me yesterday, but that's okay). Thought about going to a movie, but decided no. Thought about getting some cat litter and then I decided that I would do that on my way back from work on Friday. I didn't even read the newspaper I brought in,...nor did I look at the sale flyers for the day after Thanksgiving sales. I didn't do much of anything. I baked an apple pie,...from scratch,...I even made the crust! It was okay,...nothing to write home about. I spent most of the afternoon working on the crust mostly but the pie was out of the oven by 3:45. I am glad I did it,...but the results didn't warrant the effort to do it again. Making crust from scratch is a dying art,...kind of like drinking buttermilk. That desire for a cold glass of buttermilk was handed down to my mother, but stopped on a dime right there. The stuff hasn't touched my lips in it's raw state. Waffles or biscuits couldn't be better with buttermilk,...but that's the only way I will take it. If I could have worked it into my apple pie recipe,...that would have been okay,...but then maybe not, cause that would have meant that I would have had to go further than 10 steps from my door on Thanksgiving,...and wasn't gonna happen. Thanksgiving alone. I didn't overeat,...I didn't have to listen to listen to stories I didn't want to hear, I didn't have to do anything, except what I wanted. Thanksgiving for one,...ain't so bad.

King of the Smoothies

I have been self drubbed with this title. For years our poor blender has sat in a corner, unrecognized for its abilities and therefore, underused, neglected. At one point, we needed the counter space and decided to place it in a closet or in a cabinet. Well, that's all changed. I have put it throught its paces for the past three months. I decided my fruit intake could be better, and found the blender to be an essential part of the equation to assist me in accomplishing my new, healthy and attainable goal. This morning I saw my banana purchase was a little overkill and there were some getting ripe beyond use,...so instead of making banana pudding or banana bread, I chose an easier much more healthy two-banana smoothie. I usually have a medley of both fresh and frozen fruit(the frozen fruit chills and thickens)but you can vary your blend to accomodate rapidly ripening fruit. I have found that I can drink 4 fruit servings in a smoothie in the morning. I think an ideal intake is 5 servings of fruits or vegetables in a day.

I have contemplated diversifying,...maybe in the evenings adding an adult beverage of choice. I think that would make me the daquari king. Next I may try tomatoes or carrots. Then it's a natural progression to meats and other vegetables. That reminds me of some documentary I saw about Native Americans and how the Navajo women would chew food for their babies, kind of like certain birds regurgitating for their little ones.

I might look at this as preparation for old age. I heard when you get to the nursing home or without your teeth(or both), it all goes in a blender. You will drink your breakfast, lunch and dinner through a straw. Better get a better blender or a bigger straw.

Pixelized Poetry

I was scanning Holden's "Smaug"poem from The Hobbit, trying to make it available for this blog, without typing it(I'm lazy). However, this is the product that I pulled from my scanner, but it is not what was on the glass. These were words, black on white paper as normal. Strange,...this bit of a technical difficulty reminds me of the famous cubist painting of "Nude Descending a Staircase". Oh!, I see her now. There she is in the upper right corner. See her? Va va va voom! Huba, huba! Woooooooeeeeee! Amazing detail of that ribbon draped ever so delicately across her bosom.

Politicians Royale

By accusing their critics of playing politics,...our President and Vice President have played politics. By saying that those who do not agree with the war in Iraq and question the reasoning behind it should NOT SPEAK, they have made the most unamerican statement. Our country was founded on several basic freedoms, one of which was freedom to be critical of government officials without having our heads lopped off physically or rhetorically. They would rather those who disagree with their lack of strategy to exit Iraq keep their mouths shut. They say some of the critics were the ones who voted to go,....well, isn't there a time to regroup and rethink,....or do we just continue to headlong into a war where real American kids are really dying with no end in sight. It's as though we have given Bush and Cheney and the Iraqi people a blank check on our children's lives and they will fill in the number later. The time has come to look at our strategy and reassess. Bush claimed victory in Iraq long ago,...obviously too early,....yet we are still there. And we are supposed to just let that happen without some accountability? Now's the time to be accountable for the reason we got into the war and the intelligence utilized to support the action and for a sooner-to-be-implemented-than-later exit strategy and for the reason you didn't plan that before jumping into Iraq with both feet. If Bush claims his critics language against the war to be reprehensible, then his critics can call his language to get us into Iraq reprehensible as well. I guarantee his reprehensible language has cost us more lives that the reprehensible language of his detractors. Please don't misunderstand. I DO support our troops, I just don't support the guy who put them there or why he put them there(there are plenty of tyrants even with nuclear capabilities, yet we aren't rushing into war with them). I support our troops so much that I want them to respected and honored for fighting for MY freedom, not Iraq's( I will never believe that Iraq's freedom is MY freedom anymore than I will believe that their economy is our economy). I support our troops so much that I want them to live and come back to their families alive and whole and well. We must believe that our government leaders(Republicans and Democrats alike) are fallable humans who can and do make poor decisions,...otherwise we are only deceiving ourselves into a false sense of security. We the people have every right to voice our concerns and to hold ANY public servant accountable,...for every word spoken and for every action taken.

Holden's Psycho-delic

Just in Time!

Well,...it seems that winter has arrived before fall here in Texas. Oh,...I'm sure we have a couple of 80 degree days still out there somewhere. It was freezing in some areas last night, but who knows,....tomorrow we could be at the swimming pool. I brought in my three plants that I care about,...one was a gift for my birthday, the other two were on sale at Home Depot for $5. My basil I left on the porch and just covered them with a garbage bag. It seems to be on its last leg.

We had a blustery day Tuesday when this cold front blew in. At 6AM my car thermometer said 75 and at 715 AM, it had dropped to 55. The wind was strong, it seemed colder. I noticed my pine and my pecan trees had some loose limbs that had been dislodged by the wind and fell to the ground after being suspended from other limbs all summer long.

We had very little rain this summer. I gave up on my grass in the past couple months and stopped watering. My neighbor's yard with the auto sprinklers is lush and green,....an oasis compared to my Mojave wanna-be yard. I am sure my grass prays for a breeze to blow some of the mist from the auto sprinklers its way. I still have a strong stand of St. Augustine in the front, which is what I care about. I can now turn my attention toward next year and buy a big bag of Scott's Bonus S, the fertilizer made especially for St. Augustine. Maybe this year I will be self disciplined and improve my yard attitude and apply it twice, as the bag recommends.

The sans rain situation was so bad this summer that we have one less tree in the front. One of the ornamental large leafed evergreens croaked and I cut it down. It seemed like a small tree, until I started cutting it down. I always wondered why people hired men to take out trees in their yard, much bigger than the little one I removed. Now I know why. Well, maybe it will feel like Thanksgiving next week instead of Major League Baseball's Opening Day(though one year it was quite brisk on Opening Day). Here's hoping cool weather is here to stay for a while. (photo is from winter two years ago)

Smaug

Holden had to write a poem based on The Hobbit. He was able to illustrate a scene for extra credit and this was his illustration. He got a 110. I personally think this is worth more than 10 extra points, but I'm his Dad and who am I to question the grading system? I particularly like his stylized fire. I'm not sure where he gleaned that, but I think it's cool. I give him 200!

Pleasing my Dad

You never get so old that you don't want to please your dad. I still do and I'm 44 years old and at least 10 hours away. Maybe it's not so much pleasing him, but letting him know that you learned something from him and that you can do some of the same stuff he did while you were growing up,.....fixing stuff. It's sad, but if I need help on a household project I will call him and get his opinion. And if I am successful at one of those projects,...he's the first guy I call. To sort of brag. Like once our clothes dryer would spin but only blow cool air. I think I called him to diagnose the situation, which he said was the heater coil,...and sure enough, when I opened it up I saw the obvious break in the coil. I quickly looked up the nearest Sears parts store and called them and ran down and picked up a new coil and installed it. I think it was like $36.00. When I turned the dryer on and felt the wave of heat I was shocked. It had seemed so easy. I usually run into at least three snags in my pursuit of fixdom! So I celebrated like I had become a father again! And guess what I did next,....yep, made a call to Birmingham, AL to not only brag to Dad that I fixed the dryer in what seemed like record time, but to also discuss the considerable savings I had just made by completing the task myself and not hiring someone to fix it for me. The timeliness was also discussed, cause I guarantee I would not have been able to get someone out to the house before a couple of days. Yeah, Dad's the guy I want to impress, however, just looking at his record of fix-it victories, I don't know if he really is impressed or could be. My record is a little league record when compared to his major league record. But he still expresses his big league pride in me at 44,....just like he did years ago in little league,...over my trivial success,...but maybe just my call is his Big League success. Love you Dad.

Three legged Cat

Three nights ago we were filling my wife's van up with gas,....$2.19 per gallon. I was pumping gas when my wife comes around the corner with tears in her eyes asking if I had seen the poor three legged cat that was looking for food. She pointed me in the direction of a ditch into which the cat had darted. I went over caught a glimpse and it shot like a rocket across the ditch to a business adjacent to the gas station. I started down the steep slope to cross over the ditch to where ole tripod was,....and he dashed even further away toward a car dealer that was next to the business, that was next to the gas station. I still had compassion on the poor creature, thinking of my two cats, fat and sassy, probably picking their teeth in a lounge chair in front of the TV,...so I decided to break into their new bag of food I had just purchased and share the wealth with ole prong. As much as I could make of him/her(?)was it was a calico missing its right hind leg below the thigh. It didn't slow him down much. I grabbed two large handfuls of "IAMS for indoor cats"(hope it's not poison to an outdoor cat)out of the new 10 lb bag and started down the steep slope to place the food on a concrete sidewalk in front of the business next door to the station. It was steep, as I mentioned, but I made it across without much trouble,....mostly applying the breaks as I went down, but letting off enough to have enough speed to coast up the other side of the ditch to the sidewalk. A little awkward, but no problems, no dry cat food losses on my journey. I placed the food in a neat pile on the corner and looked toward the used car dealer, where I had last seen ole stump, but saw no sign of her/him. I looked at the pile of food and thought it didn't look like much. I wanted to get more, but needed to check on my gas pump,...it had probably kicked off because it was full. So I made it down the other side of the ditch, headed back, toward the steeper side, but I didn't have enough speed, so halfway up the steep side of the ditch, I stalled and began to notice that it was a little slick and muddy and I didn't want to put my hands down(though they had just been holding cat food). I started to lose my balance, but thought I could recover without putting my hands down. I felt my face flushed red with the realization that I could possibly be falling when my foot slipped out of the clogs I was wearing and began turning over, further throwing off my balance. There was a black guy sitting by the pay phone at the edge of the gas station lot in a beat up pinto watching the whole charade,...and I'm praying that it's not Alan Funt in disguise with his video camera. It was like everything was in slow motion, like in the action movies like The Matrix when the director wants us to see every blow of the fight. My arms were flailing trying to assist me in regaining my balance to make it the rest of the way up the steep side of the ditch without putting my hands down in the semi mud(in hind sight, I don't really know why keeping sanitary hands was such an uncompromisable position). Well, it seemed like 5 minutes, but was probably more like a split second, but I finally gained some footing and made a couple of steps forward and one more back and then the rest of the way up the steep slope and without getting my hands muddy. I had escaped a fall and injury,.....or so I thought. The next day, my back had a slight twinge of pain,...two days later it was more severe, three days later it was difficult to get out of bed without shouting expletives,....but I did(without shouting expletives). So, I took three ibuprofen(a miracle drug in my opinion) and the pain subsided greatly. I love Advil! So much so that I'm searching for an Advil t-shirt or baseball cap, bumper sticker, to proudly sport as this drugs biggest fan. I hope ole Hop-a-long enjoyed his lite snack,...I will probably look him up the next time I buy gas there, but I will definitley stay on this side of the ditch.

The Lone Turkey

Wife and son will be flying to Bama for Thanksgiving, but I will be staying here. I am saving my vacation for our trip to England this summer,...plus they are coming back on Friday, so I would only be there three days, not worth the large sum to fly for that short time,...and it seems like I have been driving since I got my car, a year ago Thanksgiving(well two days post), so I don't want to drive. I think I will just hang out with the cats,...in the air conditioning comfort of my home in 80 degree Texas Thanksgiving weather. Not do a thing. Cook a little turkey,...get a little can of cranberry sauce,...watch football if I want or a classic movie or a bawdy comedy or just lay on the couch and doze without someone reading off our schedule for the day. Last year we had Thanksgiving at home, just the three of us,...Ellie(our British boarder who has been with us three years,...she was family after the first month) was with her fiancee's family and will be again this year. The only thing I can't do is throw the football by myself. If you think you should invite a poor lonely guy for Thanksgiving, go ahead, only don't be surprized if he says, thank you , but I have plans. And don't be surprized if he turns around and invites you over later to throw the football.(Photo of my lovely smoked turkey from last Thanksgiving)

Fall has fell

Tearing Down a Wall

It's been my week to drive the carpool. I have two 7th graders and a 5th grader(one 7th grader is a girl,...just so you get the complete picture). Well, my son, the other 7th grader, sits in the front seat beside me. I think his main job is to select music on the multi-disc CD changer that I don't want to hear. He started to put in Nirvana this morning at 7 AM and tho I don't dislike the band,...it's got to be against some city ordinance to play music that even hints of a grinding guitar before 10 AM. Well, maybe that's a little paraphrased from the ordinance,.....okay, paraphrased a lot,.....okay, okay,...I just made it up! For Nirvana's sake as well as mine(it is a disrespectful to play Nirvana as a low volume level, it's like spitting on Kurt Cobain's grave). I relax the made-up rule when my son happens to choose something from my CD wallet. He has recently chosen Pink Floyd's THE WALL from my book. I can easily turn my head,...or a deaf ear, as it were, to the grinding guitar solos(which should not be compared to Nirvana, I know) from Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb(not the most grinding) since I remain in a college flashback throughout our journey to school while it plays. This morning the 5th grader began to comment about and actually sing along with "Crazy,...toys in the attic, he is crazy,...". He said it was kind of scary sounding. I could not disagree with him, since I bought it a year ago around this time and actually played it at Halloween as scary background/mood setting music. I then thought,...I wonder if he talks to his dad about what we listen to on the way to school? I wonder if he may someday hear a muzak version in an elevator and say,...."Hey, that's 'Brick in the Wall'!". So maybe my week to drive is a version of a music appreciation lesson. Maybe by listening to The Wall, I am helping tear down a wall revealing music history these kids may have otherwise never been exposed to? or maybe it's just good music that all generations gravitate toward, no matter their date of birth? (the photo is Pink Floyd's The Wall album cover rendered with Legos). Link to an analysis of The Wall: http://home.mchsi.com/~ttint/

My Life is a Blank Page

I just realized that I have a collection of blank journals in a variety of sizes. One of them is well used,...the others are not. I don't know why I feel the need to collect them, if I'm not going to use them. Kinda silly. Maybe there's some psychosis linked to this collecting. For the record, it's not obsessive/compulsive behavior,....I don't have a closest stacked to the ceiling with blank journals or diaries. I do have four in my office. I just brought a new one from home today. What's this fascination? Am I trying to achieve a look? Am I trying to be something that I'm not? Do I think that if I surround myself with these empty pages that I will possibly be inspired to write something brilliant,....or for that matter write at all or maybe sketch something? You know, I think I am afraid to write in them. Maybe if I make a mark in each of them that will suffice in "priming the pump" and I will begin to utilize them.

DO THIS:

The rules:
1. Delve into your blog archive.
2. Find your 23rd post (or closest to).
3. Find the fifth sentence (or closest to).
4. Post the text of the sentence in your blog along with these instructions. Ponder it for meaning, subtext or hidden agendas…
5. Tag five people to do the same.

My 23rd post was about the irony of my son's football team's mascot being the cardinals and playing a catholic team:

"I instantly laughed and thought of a great t-shirt design that I'm sure would NOT be school sanctioned."

I guess I am a jovial person who is very visual and enjoys good design. I would like for those around me to be happy, so I share my laughter, maybe too broadly, possibly with people who don't care or want to laugh. I am also overly concerned about authority and what other people may think.

One HOT Poem!

I SHALL SEEK AND FIND YOU...

I SHALL TAKE YOU TO BED AND HAVE MY WAY WITH YOU...

I WILL MAKE YOU ACHE, SHAKE AND SWEAT UNTIL YOU MOAN AND GROAN...

I WILL MAKE YOU BEG FOR MERCY...

BEG FOR ME TO STOP...

I WILL EXHAUST YOU TO THE POINT THAT YOU WILL BE RELIEVED WHEN I'M FINISHED WITH YOU...

AND YOU WILL BE WEAK FOR DAYS...

ALL MY LOVE,


THE FLU

Now get your mind out of the gutter.............. and,...

GO GET YOUR FLU SHOT !

Baby's Gone

Conway Twitty sang a song about signs which indicated that his relationship with his wife or girlfriend was over called Baby's Gone(certainly there have been other similar themed songs in the country genre, but this is the standard by which all other Baby's Gone knock-offs are measured) I can't help but recall those words when I look at our 7th grade son and see signs of him maturing. Baby's Gone. In my thoughts those words don't express the same sentiment that Conway sang in front of a backdrop of crying steel guitar(my relationship with Holden is evolving but I think it's still in tact), but they just seem to fit as I see our 13 year old baby growing up and gettin gone. And there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Oh, this is no surprise to me(I'm not in TOTAL denial of reality) since I have regularly seen him reaching milestones in his life. But the reason it's such a fresh topic with me is that Holden just came upon another milestone on Friday. Probably not a major one(somehow they all seem major), but certainly another indicator that Baby's Gone. Holden had a friend over and they spent most of Friday evening and the next day talking to girls on AIM!!!!, an instant messaging center for AOL(hope it's not costing me anything, I'm not an AOL guy). In addition to that change is a bi-product annoyance: Where once I had a peaceful reign over our computer,...now, just since Friday, I have been demanded, begged and bribed off the computer just so he can see who's online. Peace has turned into a scheduling nightmare for time on the computer. I can see a second one in our near future. But this was just like every other milestone in his life. A flip of the switch. One day he's wearing diapers, the next he's potty trained. One day the training wheels on his little bike were rattling, the next they're off he was pulling away from my hand under his own power and control on two wheels. Thursday, he showed little interest in instant messaging, but with a flip of a switch, and Friday he's obsessed with it. Baby's Gone. I guess the training wheels of life have been taken off. Now I should, with a sense of pride and a prayer for his guidance, lovingly watch as he peddles away. Can he stay on, will he know how to turn, does he understand braking, how will he take the spots with bumps and loose gravel? All are questions, worries, concerns. Baby's Gone. It's bittersweet. But there's no reason that I can't ride along side/with him. Okay, I need to stop this sappy stuff or I'm going to be a mess. I have tears, but I am happy, too. I can see how his acceptance of new responsibilities at school have matured him just over the past 9 weeks. I am very proud of him and think he has adapted to the changes in his life well, with some minor bumps(I know this is just the beginning, but I'm a sensitive new age guy). Holden has been thrown into a new school at a difficult age and has had to make new friends. He has had to adjust to a new schedule with more school and personal responsibilities. And with some hard work, he has all A's and one B(again this is just the beginning, I know,...I hope he does too). He is playing football, which is yet another step on his own. But, I can't really help him much there. I only played basketball. Holden's growing up, which is the only acceptable alternative. Baby's Gone,...so please watch him like a hawk, God.

Your Silent Face
by New Order
A thought that never changes
Remains a stupid lie
It's never been quite the same
No hearing or breathing
No movement, no colors
Just silence

Rise and fall of shame
A search that shall remain
We asked you what you'd seen
You said you didn't care

Sound formed in a vacuum
May seem a waste of time
It's always been just the same
No hearing or breathing
No movement no lyrics
Just nothing

The sign that leads the way
The path we can not take
You've caught me at a bad time
So why don't you piss off

THE OIL SHORTAGE
A lot of folks can't understand how we came to have an oil shortage here in America. ~~~ Well, there's a very simple answer. ~~~ Nobody bothered to check the oil. ~~~ We just didn't know we were getting low. ~~~ The reason for that is purely geographical. ~~~ Our OIL is located in ~~~ Alaska ~~~ California ~~~ Oklahoma and TEXAS ~~~ Our DIPSTICKS are located in Washington DC!

A Unicef poster in France targeted at children with the message that "war is bad". Has Bush seen this? He might just get it presented in this format, on this level. I heard the U.S. version depicted the Smurfs bombing Gargamell delivering the message to our children that "war is good". When we need to, we can spin and counter-spin with the best of them.

SUCCESS:
At age 4 success is . . . . not peeing in your pants.
At age 12 success is . . . having friends.
At age 16 success is . . . having a drivers license.
At age 35 success is . . . having money.
At age 50 success is . . . having money.
At age 70 success is . . . having a drivers license.
At age 75 success is . . . having friends.
At age 80 success is . . . not peeing in your pants.

Politicians or Patriots?

Thomas Paine, revolutionist, writer, orator stated in his pamphlet, Common Sense on January 10, 1776, "We have it in our power to begin the World over again!", speaking of the convening of the second continental congress to change the way things had been done and to seek independence from Great Britain. In general, it seems that our leaders(and citizens as well) have lost that patriotic spirit: “to make things new again”. It is also true of every session of Congress today, that they have the opportunity, through their words and actions, to, in a sense, "begin the world over again", as Thomas Paine suggested in his publication prior to our independence. Yet, our leaders seem fearful now. Not afraid of losing their lives or placing at risk the lives of their families or fellow citizens through espousing radical ideas of government, as the patriots of 1776 did, but our politicians fear making a statement which, though right, may be unpopular, and may therefore jeopardize their political careers. And though their goals may not be completely wrong for our country, they are not devoid of personal or self serving gain. Their goals seem focused on securing public office and holding to that office as long as possible, by any means necessary, rather than fulfilling their roles as public servants. They have conveniently rewritten their job descriptions to include the tasks of getting re-elected and raising funds for their friends to be elected. And those tasks are not small. They seem to taint every decision they make, if not plainly impede the completion of their elected duties. It seems that they are working for their party rather than working for our country, the people who "sign their paychecks". And those two are NOT synonymous. Our lawmakers seem bound by their pride and their greed, bound by their desire for prestige, money and power, the very things actors moving to Hollywood could be accused of pursuing. Our elected officials seem more interested in maintaining a privileged lifestyle by pleasing campaign contributors than boldly stepping out for what’s right for our nation. They are all about preserving their careers rather than serving the public. I would fear what our country would look like if our founding fathers had had the attitudes of our government officials today. We all have the power within us to "begin the world over again" with every sunrise. It's not just the responsibility of our elected officials, for by their job descriptions, as I recall them being outlined by Coach Ivy in my 9th grade civics class, they are chosen by us to only do our bidding, to represent us, "we the people". It is also our responsibility, the common man, to not just pursue our personal goals to the detriment of our fellow citizens, but to view the common good as supreme. That is living in community. That is true patriotism.

"It's an orangeade sky,...."

LIVE BY THE SWORD?

No one should be surprised by the indictments leveed against Tom "the Hammer" Delay, including him. Is it a partisan political game? You betcha! I can't help but think of the words of Jesus,..."if you live by the sword, you die by the sword",....Jesus told Peter that while miraculously putting a man's ear back on that Peter had just sliced off in the garden of Gethsemane, before Jesus was taken to trial and ultimately crucified. Tom you will be tried but you may only feel like you have been crucified(consult your former political opponents to inquire as to how this will feel since many of them experienced this same feeling by your hand). Jesus also said earlier in his ministry, something like this, "the way that you judge others is the way that you will be judged."(I would think that the Republicans, especially Texas Republicans, in this Bush era should know these quotes from the most influential person in our President's life). Tom Delay plays the political game and "hammers" his opponents,...he has even been known to take measures so his defeated opponents can't get jobs as lobbyists after he is elected. Is this part of his duties as an elected official? I don't think any elected official has any responsibilities surrounding outplacement coordination much less impeding the employment of former political foes. It's malicious, petty and a waste of our tax dollars in paying you for doing something that is not in your job description. This man seems to be a huge player in the partisan political game and expects his opponents not to play the game by the same rules with which he plays? Come on Tom! On top of that, your smuggness endears you to no one. Not even to my conservative Republican parents! They think you appear guilty as sin, and in politics how one appears is essential, so much so that reality sometimes becomes secondary. My parents believe the Republicans have more honest seeming and less smarmy appearing Republicans to choose from lead the House. They see you as a haughty man with a condescending aire that makes them and everyone else think that you believe you're above the law. Again,....who cares what the facts are?! Just the way you come off,...the way you carry yourself, makes you unpalatable for the Republicans and definitely for the Democrats. Like a tough piece of gristly beef,....everybody wants spit you out. Nobody wants you on their plate. Take a bit of advice from a common man, now that you are kissing the canvas, don't bother to get up to try and go another round, even if you stop seeing those stars. Your opponents are forming a line and beginning to take numbers. Your corner is emptying of your supporters. Now, all the bets are against you. Now that you are a blight, no one wants you. Stay down. Even your coach is about to throw in the towel on you. You're fighting injured, your eyes are swollen shut and you can't see anything. You are damaged goods. Your career as a fighter is over. You have traded blows with your opponents and have had some KO's,...but I believe that you have met your match on this one, son. You have drawn a huge target on your back by your ruthless character in politics,....now everyone in politics that you have affronted with your no holds barred attitude is aiming for you,....ruthlessly. It doesn't matter what side you are on, pal,....everyone's lining up to take you on. Soon both parties will start taking cracks at you. So, don't delay,....do yourself and our country a favor,.....get out of government now! Retire to the ranch. But be confident that on the list of things you have accomplished, you may leave the box checked that says, "crooked politician" you may also leave the one checked "successful politician",....sadly in our country, those seem to go hand in hand.

Papaw and Holden on the Farm All

walking after winter rain

ACTION JACKSON!

LET'S EAT!!!

The incandescent barometric pressure of Lima, Peru
I have been nervous about going into the 7th grade at Tarville Junior High. It seems so, well,...I don’t know,...ummm, big and threatening. Here are all of these kids whose hormones are already raging or on the verge of raging and who are taken from a nurturing, safe environment of their elementary years and thrown into a self sufficient atmosphere in a totally different school with totally different students from consolidating elementary schools across the district,....well, I don’t have to tell you that the anxiety barometric pressure was high and the climate was right for and adolescent electrical storm. All of those elements of junior high make for quite a volatile concoction, not to mention all the new faces and the searching for your place in the junior high pecking order. And they really shouldn’t allow smoking in the boys room because just one strike of a match at the wrong time and,...KABOOM! Pent up emotions and sex and drugs and rock n roll and lots of testosterone everywhere! Really, seventh grade doesn’t seem all that different from elementary school, just a few more classes, a few more classroom changes in a day and more kids and more peer pressure and more homework and more responsibility,....I know,...other than that Mrs. Lincoln,...how was the play?

Well, that’s not all,...on top of all of that it seems that we have a project due at the end of the first six weeks. Mercy Knox has been the 7th grade World Geography teacher for as long as the school has been here. Some say she was the primary teacher in the 40's when there was just a one room brick school and I believe it. I knew this assignment was coming. Miss Knox is known for having no warm up or introductory period to 7th grade. She says a few welcoming remarks and then it starts. Work, work, work. We call her "Merciless" Knox. And everyone knows that topic of the first paper of the year will always be Lima, Peru. People say she was a missionary in Peru after she completed her college education from a big Baptist college in Arkansas. They said that she was a missionary for the Baptist church in Candessant, Peru, a small town about 90 miles south of Lima. It was named Candessant because this was the first village in those parts to have an incandessant light bulb(prior to the name change it was a foot long word that even Peruvians had difficulty saying,.....it’s plain to see that they were just itching for a reason to change the name of their village). Another missionary had been called to preach in that remote village,...but was NOT called to give up electricity,...so having an engineering education from Georgia Tech,....he put his education to use and built a generator,...mostly with things he could find around the village and when he would venture into other villages and towns. Mercy was one of the first female Baptist missionaries, and especially in that part of the world. The story is that the work of God was not going so well for Mercy in the male dominant society within the small Peruvian village. When this happened, well, she kind of got depressed and felt powerless, which is not a common feeling for the Knox family. Her Dad was a big, wealthy overseer at one of the biggest sock mills in Tarville, Sock Capital of the World. She kind of "let her guard down" and fell in love with an electrician from Lima who was putting in power poles with a crew that was running the first electrical lines to the small village of Candessant. His dark Peruvian hair and complexion kind of over-powered her. She was weakened and she succumbed to his exotic Peruvian charms and the next thing you know Miss Knox was back in town with a dark haired and dark complected daughter she had named Grace.

That was another first for Miss Knox. Usually the girls who get pregnant outside of marriage run away from Tarville to get married to their premarital sex partners(as I have overheard them being described by my mother to one of her friends as they gossiped in the vestibule of the church house)and to have their "out of wedlock" babies(they won’t say bastard outside the church, so I know they won’t say it in the church). Miss Mercy Knox ran to Tarville,....and without the Peruvian power pole guy, the father of Grace. All of this I know from that one short gossip session in the church foyer between my Mom and Miss Beulah Burke. Little children have big ears, but only when good stuff like this is being discussed in church.

So Lima, Peru is the subject and we must choose one aspect of the country to explore and write a report on,....2000 words or less. I think less is definitely going to be my focus. I haven’t quite decided but I think I will write a report about the obvious,...I hope no one else thinks about reporting on the major export, but they probably will and when you don’t have a uniqueness about you, you kind of get lost in the crowd and lose your identity. Oh, I’m sure someone else will write about Lima’s number one export, lima beans. I guess I better prepare an alternative topic so as to keep my individuality about me. Hey, I know,...this might not be too exciting, but maybe I should write about the guy who came up with the word "peruse" or "to look into". Not many know but he was from a suburb of Lima, Peru. That would be unique! See Peru is up high on a mountain and "looks into"(peruses) a large valley, which is very fertile because it is part of the Peruvian River Basin. When the monsoon season comes, the Peruvian River moves beyond its banks and brings life giving water to the rest of the valley, making the conditions of the soil just right for growing lima beans.

You know, I have no idea about the accuracy of the facts that I have been spouting about Lima, Peru. They are probably about as true as most of that stuff about Miss Knox I heard from Mom and Miss Burkee. I’m a fiction writer, for Pete’s sake! And my Mom is into fiction too, so, I guess I get it honest. Maybe I’ll spice up the class and turn in a story about, "Early Female Missionaries in Candessant, Peru". Or I could just go with something like, "The Barometric Pressure in Candessant, just outside Lima, Peru". I don’t know. Which one would you rather read? Gf 9/27/03

Half a Dragon by Holden 1999

Would you believe,......he's gone?

It seems like all of my "re-run after school heros", or more recently my TVLAND buddies, are all "buying the farm". I would have never imagined Don Adams to be 82,...but then again, I really didn't think about it that much. I am beginning feel the need to not take these yesterday's stars(and seeming friends) for granted anymore.

I remember passing the opportunity to see Roy Orbison in concert in the late 80's/early 90's. He was playing a small club in downtown Scottsdale, AZ, near our home. Twice he played there and twice I failed to capitalize on the close proximity of a concert of a, then, living legend in Rock n Roll history. Then he died. I told my wife I would NOT pass up an opportunity to see a legend again. If some artist was touring through and looked as though they were not living a healthy life style and they looked like ripe candidates for the Grim Reaper, then we were buying tickets. BB King was coming through town; we bought tickets. My thought process was like this: he's a little over weight and could have a heart attack and he does have diabetes, which can compound one's medical problems and contribute to a rapid decline and death. I was very close to asking any living legend candidates to submit their recent health records in order for me to run them through my matrix to assist in making my decisions about concert ticket purchases.

Well, I never had an option to see Don Adams in concert, but I watched Get Smart and Tennessee Tuxedo and Inspector Gadget quite often. Though, he won a couple of Emmys for Get Smart,...my 13 year old would only know him as the voice of Inspector Gadget. But to his family and friends, I'm sure he was more than just a voice.

Don Adams passed away September 25, 2005 from a lung infection.

MISTER ROGER'S MUSIC MAN

Johnny Costa was the Mozart of jazz piano. Jazz legend Art Tatum, called Costa "the white Tatum." Costa, one of the world's greatest pianists, is best known for his work as the musical director of "Mister Rogers' Neighborhood," a PBS television program now in its 35th year. But Costa was much more than a pianist for children. A musician's musician, his work was applauded by jazz masters Benny Carter, Dave Brubeck, Tommy Dorsey, Dizzy Gillespie, Marion McPartland, Peter Nero, Andre Previn, Buddy Rich, Mel Torme and Art Tatum, Costa's most significant influence.

Costa's first recording was "The Amazing Johnny Costa," a Savoy LP released in 1955. It was reissued on CD in 1989 as "Neighborhood." In the 1950s, Costa cut short a career that would have brought him international recognition as a pianist and recording artist. Long road trips and concerts from home, although lucrative, did not compensate for the loss of companionship of his friends and family, the latter which included his wife, daughter and son (Helen, Debbie and John Junior). Costa stopped traveling, ended a promising recording career, gave up the job as the first musical director of the "Mike Douglas Show" and returned to Pittsburgh, never again venturing far from its city limits.

Graduating with two degrees in music from Carnegie-Mellon University, Costa began work as a musician on a Pittsburgh television station on the day he graduated. He provided piano and organ music for many programs, eventually teaming with Fred Rogers to create the most successful children's program on television. Even after his death in 1996, Costa's piano still resounds throughout Neighborhood programs.

TUSK: A Review; 25 years late

I loved "Desert Island Classics" surveys in The Rolling Stone magazine. If you are not "hip" to what those are, they are lists of classic recordings that various people(stars, politicians, public figures) would see as essential if they were going to be stranded on an island. Besides Mary Ann(not Ginger),....Fleetwood Mac's "Tusk" would be one of my choices for a "Desert Island Classic". I think it was early 80's,....my college roomate, Jay, bought this double album that didn't have a fold out jacket with a side for each individual disc,...which was unusual. It did have two plastic sleeves, but they fit into the one compartment. Now that we are through the technical jargon, let me say that I was a Fleetwood Mac buyer prior to this having purchase Rhiannon and Rumors,...but I didn't feel the urge to purchase this album. But at school, I heard Jay's album and it grew to be a favorite. At first, I didn't necessarily care for the cut "Tusk", the song for which the album was titled, but I started digging the African beat and their improvised Swahili gibberish. I just enjoyed the overall rollercoaster effect the variety of music tempos gave. I would never have thought anyone would start an album with a slow ballad "Over and over",...but I think it appropriately set the general unpredictable tone for this effort. Now, don't get me wrong, there are some songs that are quite jumpy that are interspersed amongst the nice mellow love songs. They work as well as the tunes that are hypnotic and relaxing. I think a few could possibly qualify for spa music because they are so slow and steady and beautiful. The whole thing could be broken into three categories. The "Down Tempo" or most mellow songs: Over and Over, Storms, Brown Eyes, Never make Me Cry, Beautiful Child. The "Up Tempo" or most energetic songs: The Ledge, What makes you think, Sisters of the Moon, That's Enough for Me, Angel, I know I'm Not Wrong, Never Forget. The "Pseudo Trance" or "Hypnotic" or those songs that are somewhere in the middle of the previous two categories: Save Me a Place, Sara, That's All for Everyone, Honey Hi, Walk a Thin Line. I think Hypnotic is the pervasive feeling I get when I listen to this music, more than any other music,....Even the "up tempo" songs I could easily describe as hypnotic,...For me(maybe I need someone to delve deep into my psyche to figure out if there are other "issues" revolving around TUSK). I can simply go into a different world when listening to "Walk a Thin Line",...Which may not be too good while driving to Dallas in traffic at rush hour on I-30. Tusk is musical canes for me. It can take me through the continuum of emotions in three songs. It's lit and airy, it's passionate and somber, it's reflective. With such a range it takes a while for me to take this CD out of my car. Thank goodness people reproduced this on CD,....I don't think Jay would be too crazy about loaning his album to me as he did in college(since I am hundreds of miles away),....and then I would have to rig my turntable in my car,....and my needle arm is pretty sensitive to bumps, and just forget about the toll the heat would take on his vinyl. Tusk is where it's at,....Dude.(see,..."Walk a Thin Line" just came on and I instantly slipped back in time,....OH NO!,.....looks like I"VE BEEN HIP-MO-TIZED!)

• 1826 Sealy, Galveston, Texas; Sonnentheil House, 1886-87. Built by Jacob Sonnentheil, this fine "carpenter" Gothic residence was possibly designed by Nicholas J. Clayton. Clues such as a floor plan similar to other Clayton-designed residences lead to this conclusion. Unique balustrades and numerous woodworking details are outstanding features.

This is the home of friends who completely renovated it back to its original state and beauty. Certainly life is irreplaceable and we pray Rita is not successful in taking that, but we also pray she is not able to take this man-made wonder that has survived 4 other hurricanes, including the 1900 hurricane that devastated the island and "turned the tide" in city growth diverting the population to Houston instead of the, then, largest city in Texas, Galveston. God save 1826 Sealy!

Send in the clowns? They're already here!
A couple of paint by number paintings that my brother did long ago . Any resemblence to the two guys below in the fishing photo is merely conincidental. Check out the Smithsonian's address of this popular pastime from the 50's at their website below: http://americanhistory.si.edu/paint/

A President and a Sportsman!

DEEP THOUGHTS by Jack Handey

I'd like to see a nature film where an eagle swoops down and pulls a fish out of a lake, and then maybe he's flying along, low to the ground, and the fish pulls a worm out of the ground. Now that's a documentary. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

I wish outer space guys would conquer the Earth and make people their pets, because I'd like to have one of those little beds with my name on it. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

Sometimes I think you have to march right in and demand your rights, even if you don't know what your rights are, or who the person is you're talking to. Then on the way out, slam the door. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

If you're a cowboy and you're dragging a guy behind your horse, I bet it would really make you mad if you looked back and the guy was reading a magazine. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

As a young boy, when you get splashed by a mud puddle on the way to school, you wonder if you should go home and change, but be late for school, or go to school the way you are; dirty and soaking wet. Well, while he tried to decide, I drove by and splashed him again. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

If your friend is already dead, and being eaten by vultures, I think it's okay to feed some bits of your friend to one of the vultures, to teach him to do some tricks. But only if you're serious about adopting the vulture. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

Broken promises don't upset me. I just think, why did they believe me? - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

I hope that someday we will be able to put away our fears and prejudices and just laugh at people. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

If you ever crawl inside an old hollow log and go to sleep, and while you're in there some guys come and seal up both ends and then put it on a truck and take it to another city, boy, I don't know what to tell you. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

One thing vampire children have to be taught early on is, don't run with a wooden stake. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

If you go to a costume party at your boss's house, wouldn't you think a good costume would be to dress up like the boss's wife? Trust me, it's not. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

There's nothing so tragic as seeing a family pulled apart by something as simple as a pack of wolves. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

Consider the daffodil. And while you're doing that, I'll be over here, looking through your stuff. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

For mad scientists who keep brains in jars, here's a tip: why not add a slice of lemon to each jar, for freshness? - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

If I was the head of a country that lost a war, and I had to sign a peace treaty, just as I was signing, I'd glance over the treaty and then suddenly act surprised. "Wait a minute! I thought we won!" - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

Somebody told me how frightening it was how much topsoil we are losing each year, but I told that story around the campfire and nobody got scared. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

I wish I had a dollar for every time I spent a dollar, because then, Yahoo!, I'd have all my money back. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

I think people tend to forget that trees are living creatures. They're sort of like dogs. Huge, quiet, motionless dogs, with bark instead of fur. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

Instead of studying for finals, what about just going to the Bahamas and catching some rays? Maybe you'll flunk, but you might have flunked anyway; that's my point. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

I bet for an Indian, shooting an old fat pioneer woman in the back with an arrow, and she fires her shotgun into the ground as she falls over, is like the top thing you can do. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

Perhaps, if I am very lucky, the feeble efforts of my lifetime will someday be noticed, and maybe, in some small way, they will be acknowledged as the greatest works of genius ever created by Man. - Jack Handey (aka Jack Handy)

Holden's rendition of Good Charlotte

Alligator boots and a Toboggan Sled

Hemaroids and cowboys boots,....some people say that sooner or later every asshole gets 'em. I decided that since I really wasn’t a cowboy, I should refrain from wearing cowboy gear. In certain parts of Texas, you run the risk of someone snatching you up to rope a stray steer or join a cattle drive to move a herd of longhorns from Fort Worth to Kansas City or ride with a posse to bring a horse thief to swift justice. Being a transplant from the southeast has seemingly made this whole cowboy notion a forbidden fruit of sorts. I struggled deeply with who I really was before I made a choice to purchase a piece of cowboy attire. Funny that such a trival venture could nearly put you on the couch of your favorite psychotherapist to find out whether your subdued Tex Ritter side could overpower and send your rockabilly Elvis roots into the far and remote recesses of your psyche, to remain dormant the rest of your natural life.

It was more than just a pair of boots, though. These looked like they were top of the line, even though they were dusty, aged and worn looking sitting on the shelf in a turn of the century boot repair shop just off the square in downtown Comanche. There they were, a pair of mystical alligator boots, sitting on the shelf with other unclaimed boots which had been repaired but never paid for and picked up. It seems this boot repair shop had been a fixture in this small ranching town, two hours southwest of downtown Fort Worth, for several generations. Handed down from father to son since the mid 1800's, but the latest twist was that in the last of the Van Buren family, there were no sons produced, therefore, in 2000, the new millineum ushered in a new era and a feminine side of boot repair, with Vera Van Buren(she was bold enough in the 70's to tell her husband she intended to keep her original and proud name, and he was not man enough to protest the decision).

Vera saw the look of intrigue in my eye as I perused her shelf of abandoned boots, and she was even perceptive enough to see my pupils dilate when they caught a glance of those cayman narrow toed ropers from the swamps of Louisiana. They looked big enough, but I just didn’t know, my eyes had deceived me before. I didn’t want to get my hopes up that they were 12's(the width variance I could just deal with)and then they disappointingly turn out to be 11.5's. Almost 12, but just a half size off,...enough to cause the most severe discomfort. Now most boots that fit perfectly are somehow always uncomfortable, though most people(men) will lie and tell you they are the most comfortable shoes they own. They are just so head over heels about them because they took out a home equity loan to purchase them! But boots that don’t fit could be easily classified as hell on earth. The purchaser is too proud to admit his mistake(a male problem only, women never wear uncomfortable shoes, they either take them back or they park them and wear every pair but those, ignoring them until they become just like a bad dream)and will never take them back, for fear of having to admit he bought them without trying them on, or worse, tried them on and talked himself out of the pain in order to have the look. In other words their eyes were too big.

Vera was sitting back at her cobbler bench sipping on a bowl of chicken noodle soup, it being lunch time. She wasn’t in the most prone position to see a buying eye, yet growing up in the boot repair business had made her senses so keen that she could pick up on the slightest buyers symptoms, a subtle double take, a brief rubbing of the dry lips(dry from all moisture going to keep up with the over production of saliva triggered by the lust for cowboy boots), tentatively tapping the counter while softly whistling the theme from The Magnificent Seven,...Vera recognized them all and could spot them from great distances. She didn't even need to make eye contact to sense a "buy cue" and start making her sales pitch. Vera would love to be able to unload any pair of those stranded boots just to get her investment of time and leather for the repairs. If she could do that and bump the price up for a little profit, she felt like she had a good business day and would close early to go to the tastee freeze to treat herself to a peanut butter blueberry shake, maybe even buy a round for the house. One of her biggest marketing strategies was to liquidate the leftover repaired boots. Doesn’t sound like much of an aggressive business plan, but she already had a corner on the boot repair market and the added revenue from erasing her bad debt would be enough to buy a new magnetic sign advertising the repair shop to place on her 78 F-150,...another marketing strategy to bring in additional business from the county. Vera was planning on going to the county fair everyday getting there early in the morning to get a good front parking spot near the horse arena. Her magnetic sign would surely get some recognition there. Next year she is contemplating putting an on-site repair shop there, but that would require her to hire an additional employee to watch the shop, at least part time.
I thought I was hiding my interest in the alligator boots, my lust for leather. Vera barked from the back when she saw my lips drying out, "Not a big price for you to walk out with gators on your dogs. All I want’s what I got in em." She took a quick sip of soup, hopped off the stool and strolled toward the wayward boot shelf, picked up the pair I had thought I was not so conspicuously looking at. She looked at the sole, heel, and said the repairs she saw were minor, and should only be about $60,...a small price to pay for alligator, no matter how aged these looked. Then she turned to the inside of the boot. She let out a short grunt and stuck her hand in the boot and pulled out a small piece of paper which seemed to have been stuck to the insole at the heel. Vera looked at the note and said, seems these have been here for a while, came from the panhandle in early 60's seems a Mr. Jim Dean was passing through and dropped them off for repair. He said that he would pay for them now and telephone back to give the address where to forward them. He never called back with the address.

I was excited that the repair had been paid for. It seemed that I would be able to get these for a song, maybe $10 or $20. How much for them, I asked Vera. Then Vera said "Hmm?,...not quite sure, but it seems something else goes with these puppies. She said This is grandad’s handwriting, but I’m not sure if I know what he’s talking about here." Grandad had passed away a few years ago, but Vera never heard him mention this pair of boots or the note inside." She asked me to follow her out back to the barn, I wondered what could possibly be there that would be connected to the boots. We went into the barn and climbed up the ladder to the loft. I had only been in a barn loft one other time in high school under much different circumstances, never to be associated or similar to this trip, so I didn’t know quite what to expect. She went to the back and peaked behind several bales of hay and started to push them over, onto the floor of the loft. Slowly she uncovered a canvas tarp covering a large object. Vera was saying all along that those boots were tied to this object under the canvas. She said that the owner of the boots had not only left his boots for repair, but grandad Van Buren seemed to have agreed to repair something other than boots. Vera finally got to the edge of the tarp and began to uncover this large boxy item. It looked glossy and red, quite a dichotomy compared to the other dull and listless objects in the barn. As she uncovered the hidden treasure, I couldn’t believe my eyes. This part of the country was no place for this gear,.....a tobbagan sled?! What on earth?! What in Texas?! Why in Texas?! Vera said that if I bought the boots that I would have to take the tobaggan sled also, the piece of paper said that I would and grandad had written it, so I guess that was the final word. Grandad had listed that he had repaired one of the runners with some ultra lite, yet durable wood he had shipped from some European country where sledding was more popular. I was ready to take the boots and the sled, when Vera looked inside the cockpit of the sled and found another note and a photo. The note turned out to be a sales slip from LL Bean and was signed James Dean. The photo was a winter shot taken on the set of Giant, filmed in the panhandle. There in glossy black and white was James, Rock and Elizabeth with the sled. We quickly put together that James, the adventurer, had taken them to sled in the Colorado Rockies while on a break from filming Giant. Quickly the price of the boots skyrocketed and Vera, as quickly, saw easy retirement years come into focus. I made her a bid on the boots, but Vera was nice, not nuts. She said that she would make me a deal on another pair of gators she had on the "stepchild" shelf. I chalked the whole afternoon in the shop to a brush with greatness, a story that would last a lifetime. I now had an eternal conversation starter, and a reasonably priced pair of alligators to boot. jgf 2003

Wallace and Gromit in

The Curse of the Were-Rabbit

This is nice British humor. It's not just for kids, they will probably miss most of the dialogue anyway, kind of like we did when we watched The Rocky and Bullwinkle Show. There are three previous Wallace and Gromit movies on DVD and VHS, Grand Day Out, The Wrong Trousers, and A Close Shave.

It has been a while since I saw this film. I liked it well enough to remember the title, which is a big challenge for me these days. May be difficult to find. In 2001, Andrew Lloyd Webber opened a big musical based on the novel and the film, however, his musical was set in Louisiana instead of outside of London. I don't think it ran very long. This may be a difficult film to find, but easier than catching it on TMC or another vintage movie channel. I think it is only in VHS format. Not the best movie I had ever seen, but touching and I liked the symbolism,....or what I perceived to be symbolism.


Whistle Down the Wind
1962 - UK - Religious Drama/Childhood DramaReviewed by Bosley Crowther

Type: FeaturesDistributor: J. Arthur Rank Productions Rating: NR Running Time: 98 minutes Starring: Alan Bates, Norman Bird, Diane Clare, Patricia Heneghan, Bernard Lee, Hayley Mills, Elsie WagstaffeDirected by: Bryan Forbes
PLOT DESCRIPTIONBryan Forbes' first directorial effort is set in a rugged Lancashire farm community. Three impressionable children, played by Hayley Mills, Diane Holgate, and Alan Barnes, come across a bearded vagrant named Arthur Blakey (Alan Bates) sleeping in their barn. Upon awakening, the ill-tempered bum takes a look at the white-eyed kids and mutters the imprecation "Jesus Christ!" In their innocence, the children assume that Arthur is Jesus Christ, and they spread the word to their friends. In truth, he is an escaped killer. But when the authorities come around looking for him, the kids, remembering Christ's persecution, do their best to protect their far-from-deserving new friend. Though the material, based on a novel by Mary Hayley Bell (Hayley Mills's mother) could have been mawkish and obvious in other hands, Forbes handles the situation and the characters realistically; even the blatant New Testament symbolism is logically incorporated into the proceedings. ~ Hal Erickson, All Movie Guide

GO CARDINALS!

BEAT THE CHRISTIANS!

I don't have photoshop or I would have put some numbers on them, maybe some real football helmets(the helmets they have on don't look too protective). My son's school mascot is the cardinal. While looking for photos for his blog, I noticed my son had pulled up this image when he googled "cardinals". His blog is: http://fightingcards.blogspot.com . I instantly laughed and thought of a great t-shirt design that I'm sure would NOT be school sanctioned. So I put it here. The headlines should be "Beat Prestonwood Christian Lions", but it's not quite as funny,...so I am kind of milking it for a laugh, a little. Should the Cardinals trounce the Lions in tonights homecoming game, would the sports page story headlines read, "Cardinals Beat the Hell Out of the Christians!"? We beat Nolan, the parochial school. I bet "Cardinals beat the Catholics" would have won some friends and influenced some people. Probably not, but you must admit that the play on words and the imagery linked with this photo is pretty good. The Fighting Cardinals! That's almost as good as Wake Forest University(Baptist college) having "The Demon Deacons" as their mascot. I guess in the history of the world some cardinals have fought. I think a nun was teaching boys to fight in an old black and white film with Bing Crosby, "Boys Town"(not sure about the title). And I guess there have been some demon deacons in this world and some Catholics and Christians who have needed the hell beat out of them, by Cardinals or Deacons,....or both. I've got to get this design to a t-shirt screener,...maybe not for tonight, but for next year. Epilogue: 9/16 - Christians beat the hell out of the cardinals.

Vintage Postcard of the Flatiron Building in NYC
Vintage postcard of the Flatiron Building in Fort Worth, Texas

By today's standards the triangle-shaped, seven story Flatiron Building wouldn't rate as a skyscraper but when built in 1907 by Dr. Bacon Saunders it was the tallest building in North Texas. Dr. Saunders, a well-traveled physician with a knack for business, got the idea for the novel office building on a trip to New York, where he saw the original Flatiron Building at 23rd Street and Fifth Avenue.

Flatiron Buildings were built around the turn of the century to make use of the grid corners created by the street planning of that era. Today such structures are revered as historic landmarks. Outstanding restored Flatirons can be found in New York City, Chicago, San Francisco, Chattanooga and Atlanta, as well as Toronto and Vancouver. Fort Worth has the distinction of having the only Flatiron Building in Texas.