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.

One week after my son was born, my grandfather passed away. I wanted them to know each other, but time did not cooperate. I wrote this introduction of Holden to my grandfather.(excuse the sap,...it was a sappy time)

An Introduction

I would like to tell you of
a new friend I've grown to love,
a special kind of friend in many ways.

He favors you, no doubt,
has that long, flat, Tucker mouth,
he's someone with whom you'd like to spend the day.
(I think you'd like him)

When I'm down, he'll come around,
with a smile or sometimes a frown,
but either way he brings me joy with every word.

He's just like you, that way
and he likes to be out all day.
And if he can't he throws the worst fit ever heard.
(I think you'd like him)

So innocent and small,
but he looks like he's going to be tall,
his speech gets plainer every passing minute.

He loves music and he sings
loud enough to make the rafters ring.
You know, I can't recall my life when he wasn't in it.
(I think you'd like him)

He's courteous at times and sweet.
Never a stranger does he meet,
a real talker, yet another characteristic of you.

He likes to pet all the dogs
is afraid of snakes and frogs,
but his mother is also, and he's bound to be like her too.
(I think you'd like him)

If you were here with us now,
to "go over the fence" or to plow,
you'd have one more buddy walking by your side.

He'd hold a finger of your hand
as you gave him "the lay of the land"
and I'd tag along with a smile and a feeling of pride.
(I think you'd like him)

He knows you by your face,
but a picture just can't replace
rocking beside you, listening to your stories.

But, photographs will have to do,...
that, and hearing my memories of you,
Until we see you walking in those fields of glory.
(I think he'll like you.)

Mine's just plain blue.
I'm Whistling that Tune!

The King is Dead from GAS PAINS!

One of my Addictions

Created in 1963, Cap’n Horatio Crunch is a fun-loving sea captain. He was born and raised on Crunch Island, which is located in the Milk Sea. He wears a blue captain’s uniform, and a large blue captain’s hat. His ships is the SS Guppy, which he sails with his first mate, Seadog(1963), and his crew of four kids. Their mission is to keep the cargo hold of cereal from falling into the hand of Jean La Foote the Barefoot Pirate(1968).
Daws Butler, the voice of Yogi Bear and Huckleberry Hound for Hanna Barbera, and literally dozens of characters in the Fractured Fairy Tales segments for Ward, was the original vice of the Cap’n. June Foray(Rocky the Flying Squirrel, Little Nell, Witch Hazel)played all the female characters as well as two of the kids on the Guppy’s crew. Paul Frees(Boris Badenov, Inspector Fenwick, and most of the pirate voices in "Pirates of the Caribbean" at the Disney theme parks)was the narrator.
Other characters(and cereals)associated with them: Harry S. Hippo(Punch Crunch), Jean Lafoote the Barefoot Pirate(Cinnamon Crunch), Wilma the Winsome White Whale and Seadog(Vanilla Crunch), Chockle the Blob, a shape-shifting blob of chocolate chip cooke dough(Choco Crunch), Crunchberry Beast(Crunch Berries), Smedley the Elephant(Peanut Butter Crunch), Cap’n Crunch as Santa Claus(Christmas Crunch), Tugboat Granny(Cap’n Crunch’s Instant Hot Cereal), Shark and Turtle(Deep Sea Crunch), Magnolia Bulkhead and Otis, The Soggies and Jean Lafoote’s son.
Cap’n Crunch Ship Shake(1969/1970) came in three flavors: Chocolate Malt, Chocolate, and Strawberry. It was "as good for your as a bowl of oatmeal".
Cap’n Crunch’s Airhead Berries(2003)was basically a box of Crunch Berries shaped like balloons in 4 berry flavors. They also included a package of Airheads inside the box.

My 2001 Terror Attack

Until Katrina, there has been no terror struck in the hearts of Americans like 9/11/01. Obviously, one was an act of nature the other was an act of idiots, a glaring difference. So, though Americans experienced terror with both of these tragic events, we processed them differently. I believe with Katrina America probably felt violated or attacked or vulnerable, just like we did with the events of 9/11, but different because because 9/11 was man-made.

Toward late August/early September in 2001, I got this strange feeling in my gut. Not an emotional feeling, but a physical one. It seemed familiar, yet not. One evening, I awoke to what felt like the worst gas pains one could ever have. I got up I rolled on the floor because it was all I could think to do to try to stop the pain. Finally relief came and I was able to go to sleep. But before I went to sleep I remember thinking about Conway Tweety. For some reason, I remembered how he died and I wondered if I was experiencing what he had experienced in the early 90's that had claimed his life in a hospital Springfield, MO; a ruptured appendix. I knew that my body still didn't feel right. In the following week I noticed I was sweating a lot(even started carrying a towel), had the chills, didn't feel like doing anything, walked bent over and had no appetite, looked bad in . I went to the doctor, he saw blood in my urine and said it was probably a kidney stone. I asked if it could be my appendix. He didn't answer. The next week I made another appointment because I was no better. Again, he had me pee in a cup. And told me to hang in there, ordered a CT scan. Two weeks from that date was as soon as I could get on the schedule. I spoke candidly with a physician I was recruiting for the health system for which I work and he told me to demand an anti-biotic from my physician because it sounded like I had some kind of infection going on. I got my perscription that day and took it that evening and then next day went for a morning CT scan of my gut. The technician made me drink three big cups of this nasty white stuff and I only gagged once. She asked me if I was allergic to shellfish and I asked if that was what we were having for lunch(I didn't see, but I'm sure she rolled her eyes and thought hardee har har, the world's full of unoriginal comedians). I usually am quesy with needles, but was not this day. After that, I headed to Love Field to pick up a doc and his spouse who were interviewing with one of my hospital administrators(he was the same guy who got me to demand an antibiotic) I drove he and his wife to their appointment outside of Fort Worth, and waited on them. I really felt good that day. I remember thinking that maybe I had turned a corner, namely because I had an appetite again. I ate lunch at a local eatery in this small town and as I was paying, got a call on my cell phone from my doctor telling me to go to the emergency room that someone would be there to meet me. That my appendix was rupturing. In fact, it had ruptured,...three weeks prior to that call. God saved my life. I can't think or write about this without crying. At first I thought why did this happen to me,...then I thought why didn't I die like people who normally experience this,...why did God cause a membrane to wall off the infection so it would not spread to the rest of my body. That same evening, on September 18, Doctor Lance Smith removed my appendix and a few feet of my intestine that was gangrenous. He also took off three moles I had the presence of mind to ask about before I went under. He clicked his bic and circled them. Post surgery was no cake walk(it hurt to walk but when I walked I looked like a 90 year old man). I then thought of all the things I had done while carrying this time bomb within me,....cut the yard a few times, drove to Austin and back to attend a conference, worked every day, wore a Clifford the Dog costume for a book fair at our son's school. In the Clifford suite, I sweated profusely. Later I found out it was because of the infection, but then, I just thought it was the costume. I often thought what I would have looked like being wheeled into the ER dressed like a big red dog. "Get that dog outa here! The vet's two blocks east!" Thank you God for getting me through this time of terror. I felt Your peace and I don't know why. And thank you that I didn't have to endure wearing the Clifford suit into the ER.

Holden using that big head.
The only one in 7th grade with a black varsity helmet, due to the extreme size of his noggin.
Good luck, son! You're my all time favorite football player!

SUPERMAN

I just watched this movie again. Though some may label it corney, I have seen it several times and it still makes me a little damp around the eyes. The whole 50's styling of this non computer animated movie is right up my alley. I think I was born late; out of time. There are many good messages here and yet they didn't forget to entertain. The overwhelming message that Hogarth teaches the iron giant(adapted for screen from the book, The Iron Man by Ted Hughes) is that "You don't have to be bad(like Atomo the evil comic book character). You can choose who you want to be". The iron giant wants and chooses to be like the comic book hero who only uses his powers for good, Superman. There's also Hogarth's touching description of what happens when something dies. It's religion(gasp!). But don't take my feeble word for it. I realize I am failing miserably at providing appropriate inspiration, to the level of this quality film. So, just see the movie. And if you have seen it before, watch it again. With your parents if possible. No matter their age or yours, but especially if the 50's was their era.

The Stylings of Elvis!by Holden

Twenty Years Ago

“Suzanne Vega” (1985)

“One of the 100 Greatest Albums of the 80’s” “…Vega's intimate first album proved to be a significant milestone in this decade” - Rolling Stone Magazine

"…Vega's self-titled debut album proved to be one of the decade's seminal releases.”- Alan Jackson, Vox

“…Vega's philosophical, quiet, but confident approach would open the door for a second generation of female singer-songwriters like Dar Williams and Shawn Colvin. Her debut remains an unassuming sleeper for one of the '80s best folk or pop albums.”-Roy Francis Kasten

Twenty years ago, I graduated from college, got a new car, moved from my hometown of Memphis and took a slightly higher than minimum wage job. On my day off, I was looking for new music that would not strain my budget and found a nostalgic record store on the south side of Birmingham, AL, called Charlemaine's. I had seen the signs for this shop, had walked by the place a couple of times. It was above a restaurant, so there was a door at street level behind which was a dark set of stairs leading to a one bare bulb lit door at the top. I had heard many stories about people travelling dark staircases that led mostly DOWN to bad consequences,...not as many leading UP to bad consequences(I was sheltered as a child and had seen too many mob movies with dark staircases). So after I ran my wildly imagined "dark stair gauntlet", the rest of the experience was pretty normal and non-threatening. When I walked in, the clerk was playing a new recording of a new artist, Suzanne Vega. He spoke highly of her as a new folk artist. I knew folk music a little. My father had some albums of The Weavers, with Pete Seegar, The New Christy Minstrels, The Hootenannies, so I knew I liked that folk jangle and the stories their ballads told. I looked at the the jacket of the album, no great shakes there, just some black and white photos. Interesting, but not a big purchase hook for me. I happened to be cash poor that day, so I walked out of the store without it. This was the pre-compact disc era,...and I didn't have a turntable, but had an AM/FM cassette player in my new '84 Honda Civic. I liked what I heard while in Charlemaine's and as I was about to leave the clerk told me that she was coming to the University of Alabama at Birmingham(UAB) in a couple of weeks. He gave me a postcard/handbill with all the pertinent information included. I was always looking for something different to do, so I asked my, then, girlfriend(now wife of 18 years)if she would like to go with me. She didn't know Suzanne Vega either, but we went. We were even able to purchase the tickets at the door the evening of the concert, so this wasn't considered a "hot ticket" in Birmingham. She played a small, out of the way theatre on campus, more like a room. There was a local warm-up folk singer. He was pretty good, but not memorable. Attending this concert was sort of like betting a maiden horse race,(first race for new horses; no track record/history to help anyone beat the odds; it's any horse's race; unpredictable) so not many people were betting on Suzanne's talent that night. Suzanne came from behind the curtain, sat on a tall stool,...just her and her guitar. I soon found that she really didn't need music behind her words,...they were musical by themselves; without accompaniment. The words she chose and the way she arranged them were worthy art. But her music was like a shot of Bailey's in your coffee,...just adding an extra zip, skilled guitar accompaniment and complex melodies were a complementary flavor for her lyrics. They were haunting, intoxicating and addictive. This concert proved to be one of those rare moments when you instantly love something and know it is destined to be a favorite of yours. The very next day, cash poor or not, I went back to Charlemaine's and picked up the cassette(none of the chain record shops had it) and played it for years. Two years ago, I finally decided that I needed to replace my cassette with a CD. I think I have worn grooves in that disc, so much so that we could probably play it on my turntable. In early August, a month ago,...I went to see Suzanne Vega perform in Dallas. It was my second time to see her. A twenty year cycle had brought me back to see Suzanne Vega and had brought her back to touring with just her guitar. I drove there in my new car. The second new car I have ever owned. Another 20 year cycle event.

Suzanne Vega

Small Blue Thing

Today I am
A small blue thing
Like a marble
Or an eye
With my knees against my mouth
I am perfectly round
I am watching you
I am cold against your skin
You are perfectly reflected
I am lost inside your pocket
I am lost against

Your fingers
I am falling down the stairs
I am skipping on the sidewalk
I am thrown against the sky
I am raining down in pieces
I am scattering like light
Scattering like light
Scattering like light
Today I am
A small blue thing
Made of china
Made of glass
I am cool and smooth and curious
I never blink
I am turning in your hand
Turning in your hand
Small blue thing

CAT-DOG

Simon is a dog trapped in a cat's body. He lounges on the cool hard tile floor under the fans like a big dog. He runs to greet me when he hears me come through the front door(but no newspaper or house slippers in tow, if he was that "dog-like" I would be seeking a vet to do a "species change" operation). He follows me around the house looking for attention, even into the bathroom while I shave and shower. I think he may be part lab because he is facinated with water to the point of getting in the running shower at times. Simon is always seeking attention, like a "Rover". He wants to be noticed, to be the center of attention, the house, the universe(well that last one is a cat attribute). He likes to rough house like a dog. He even eats and drinks like a dog. When his food hits the bowl, he's there waiting to chow down like hound. Oh, he has his charCATeristics, too. But he drapes across our furniture like a panther and stalks our other cat like feline. He doesn't bark, but has a whimpy cat meow, which seems unfitting for his manly testosterone filled demeanor(tho he's actually neutered). He purrs like a diesel truck. We are working on fetching,...but that will be when his cat personality will kick in and he will simply shoot me a, "Get it yourself" look/attitude. And I will get it myself.

Little Buddy

Whether as Maynard G. Krebs or as Gilligan, Bob Denver was a huge icon. Just in those two shows alone, his image is so huge that I can't really think of any other television shows or movies in which he starred. Maybe there were none? I watched Gilligan's Island every afternoon when I got home from school. You would think the magic would have worn off, but until a couple of years ago, when TVLAND decided to go West at noontime, I spent my lunches in the tropics with the crew and passengers of the SS Minnow. Now at lunch, it's peanut butter & jelly(coincidentally the same after school snack I had when I sat down to watch Gilligan re-runs in the afternoons years ago,....when we only had three channels!) and back to back Gunsmoke and Bonanza. No comparison. I guess all that remains of the cast now is the professor(who never had a real name?), Mary Ann and Ginger. The Skipper, Mr. and Mrs. Howell and now Gilligan have taken that final three hour tour to that big tropical island in the sky. Bob Denver was his real name, but he will always be Gilligan to us(more so than the "black and white" era Maynard). And he was only 70. I wonder if eating those radioactive vegetables in that one episode might have had an adverse effect on his health?

Two Separate Parts of a Country Song

They say talks cheap
And neither of us is poor
Yet we don’t often speak

If non-verbal communication
Makes up 80% of the message,…
What are you not saying to me?

jgf1998

The Eye of Tiger is upon you,.....Eerie! Move around the room and notice how her eye follows you,...........Psych!

Wake up and smell the coffee

"I have given up decaffeinated",...usually it's the other way around,..."I've given up caffeine", was my previous motto,...now I'm officially off that wagon. But, in my defense, coffee and diet coke with lime are the only two beverages I consume that contain caffeine. Moderation. Through personal experimentation,...I have found that caffeine is like ginko biloba for my system. It not only enhances my energy, slightly,...but aids my memory as well. But no more than two cups. Caffeinated coffee has the same rule for my body as martini's,...and my pal, Jay gave me the crutch martini rule,....he said he heard martini's are like breasts,...."one is too few and three is too many". As I said that rule also applies to me for caffeinated coffee. One is okay,...two is just right but three cups makes me jittery and by noon I crash hard and am face down in a puddle of drool under my desk. I am not ashamed to say Krispy Kreme is my preferred coffee beverage. Yes, the image is all wrong. As a matter of fact, there is no image,....well, there's the overweight image that comes with their main product line,...but I am about to be 44, and I don't care. The coffee is as good as Starbuck's and they have several choices to select from, including decaffeinated. I prefer the smooth blend, with two cremes and one equal,....though I am man enough to drink it black. I usually go to the "drive-up-to" window, and the staff at my Krispy Kreme even administer the creme and the equal for me! Now, that makes you feel important! That's customer service!(I once was served by an apparent dislexic who put in one creme and two equals, but then who has zero defects?). And another positive about KK coffee is that's not only is the brew as good/or better than the big name coffeeterier(?), but the price point is 10 cents cheaper. Now, that may not sound like much, but how many of us in this $3 per gallon day, would drive 25 miles to fill up our cars with gasoline at an out of the way little fast food mart selling fuel 10 cents cheaper than everyone else?

Just a couple other features about Krispy coffee,...they sell a "to go" brew box for $9.99, which is great for class at church or business meetings, and they now sell the "fru fru" iced/blended dessert cappaccino drinks.

My idea for KK is that they spin-off some small specialty coffee shoppes that may appeal to those not comfortable with the doughnut image(Krispy Koffee?nnnaaaa,...I think it'll have to be some "breakaway" name). I must admit,...just the smell is a source of strong temptation to tack on a dozen glazed to go with my single cup of joe,...but I have resisted thus far,....by staying in the car. If you go in, they always offer a free hot doughnut,...and I am just not that strong. With just one free sample, they can convince me(or I convince myself) that I need to walk out of there with no less than two dozen. My conspiracy theory is that the glaze is laced with crack. I mean, when I go in,...it's all I can do to keep from leaping over the counter and laying on a coushin of fluffy warm doughnuts as the conveyor transports me through the glaze cascade. Well,....last week I touted the wares of Whataburger, so this is my free plug for this week. Krispy Kreme Koffee(but please don't abbreviate).

The Skinny on FATS

It seems Fats Domino, 77, refused to leave his three story home in New Orleans and was unaccounted for for a while in the wake of Hurricane Katrina. His daughter, who lives in NewJersey, was able to identify him in the photo below which was taken Monday night as he was being helped out of a rescue boat. He lived in the 9th Ward, which is said to be littered with dead bodies now. No one knows where he has been taken, nor do they know what became of the other family members who were supposedly with him. This man is a national treasure! And he needs to be cared for in that fashion! I remember listening to my mothers old 45's of Fats singing "Boll Weevil",...man his music is infectious! The image on the cover of my parents' old Fats Domino LP is etched on my brain too,...a color rendering of a more svelt Fats(really flattering image) in a nice suit strolling off the LP jacket. The colors muted purple and gold. Definitely colors for royalty(Wow! I was right! I found a photo of the jacket after I had written the discription of it! Thank goodness my memory is not just a mess of cobwebs and I still remember the important things in life!). All I can say is that he is more than welcome to stay at my house. I have an extra bedroom/bathroom and an old piano and a piano playing son who could richly benefit from a month or two with a rock n' roll hall of famelegend. The good news is, we know Fats is safe, but the bad news is we still don't know where he is. "Ain't That a Shame!"

EAT A PICKLE!

This is the reply I got from a friend when I commented that I needed some gas,...."Eat a pickle"(some say radish or can of pork'n beans). Well, don't we all wish it was as easy as that! Another friend sent me several political cartoons with commentary on the rising prices of fuel. One pictured a service station attendant standing between a cash register with the empty cash drawer open and a gas pump, the attendant was shouting to the customer(not asking), "Fill er up!". Now with the recent catastrophe on the Gulf Coast, gas prices are spiking again. Bush just passed that huge engergy bill and the fat cat oil bidnizmen got fatter,...now with the high demand, they seem to be getting fatter,...it seems they are profiting off Americans who are down and out. That's waaaay more un-American than speaking out against the war in Iraq. We have all seen the humorous gas station signs with "arm" and "leg" and "first born", but today Reuters featured in the "most emailed" photos, a shot of a BP sign in Stockbridge, GA that was selling gas from $5.87 to $6.07! If that's not price gouging,...I don't know what is. And un-American! The energy bill recently passed by Bush will NOT give us relief at the pump, but will relieve the big oil companies' debts and increase their profits. And guess what industry "Dubby's" experience was in? The industry in which he still has many cronies?(and it's not major league baseball). What impetous do the guys in Washington have to stint rising gas prices? They don't pay for their own gas to get to work! We pay for their gas. And they don't drive or ride a bus or train or even share a cab, they have a driver in a limo or government car service pick them up at their homes every day and drive them to work. Well, it's time for them to come down from their ivory towers and stop letting us just eat cake. Alternative fuels are where the investments of our tax dollars need to go, not shoring up oil bidniz buddies. Our country's jonesing for oil all the time. And we need to stop going into bad neighborhoods to pay our criminal dealers who put on a smiling face as they take our money but would rather stabb us in the back with their squiggley knives. It's time we went into alternative fuel rehab to get the oil monkey off our backs. We falsely believe we are independent in the USA,...but really we are co-dependents and need any cheap oil pumping country that can provide us our fix. We need to just say NO to OPEC and the Saudi's, have an intervention or find a habit easier for us to support, maybe something we can "grow" on our own.