sermonette....

Debbie and I sat with Julie and David for a little while last night. As older people do (and I never thought I would be guilty of), we began to share information about different medicines we all take for various ailments. Of course Julie came out the big winner, but aside from recovering from major surgery her list didn't hold a candle to Debbie's or mine. As we talked one of us would say "I didn't know you had that (ailment)!" I said it about Julie. She said it about me....after a few minutes of silence Julie said, "You know, we really ought to talk more often!" Glenn and I have both felt that way for a long time. The other day he said he doesn't think anyone realizes he and Vicki have moved back home! They still don't know anything going on with the family. I told him  I rarely know anything either...and I stayed right here in Hurst the past 40 years instead of traveling all over the world like he did. None of us have anyone to blame but ourselves of course. Momma and Daddy live less than four miles away and it isn't uncommon for me to go 4 or 5 weeks without seeing them. I tell myself, "Hey, that road runs both ways" but they are in their 80's after all. If I wanted to feel sorry for myself, which I do when one of my particular prescriptions runs out, I would think about the 2, yes, I said TWO guest rooms we have which are never used by anyone except the grandkids....and occasionally by Debbie as she flees from my snoring during the night. We tend to think we are going to be around forever and there is plenty of time for visiting "when things slow down". The truth is things are never going to slow down. We will eventually lose loved ones we didn't expect to lose so soon. We'll all wish we had spent more time with those we've lost....and we will keep on not having time for each other. Well, I would say more but it's time to go take my medicine...then I need to fix the shower, clean up the leaves, wash Debbie's car, trim the Texas lilacs out back, work on my lesson for tomorrow, have another cup of coffee, check with the office to make sure everything is going okay there, get some exercise.............

Licorice and other disgusting topics...

Those of us lucky enough to grow up in the 50's were blessed with a cornucopia filled with TV westerns. (Notice how I used the word 'cornucopia' to tie in today's holiday with my story?!) We watched Gunsmoke, Rawhide, The Rifleman, and the list could go on. In all of these the story would occasionally lead to the main character standing around the general store talking to the wise and sage-looking store owner. Try to remember and you'll agree that in every situation one or two boys would wander in and be given a stick or two of licorice. As soon as they had the licorice in their hands they would bolt from the store and we would assume those boys were stuffing that licorice into their mouths and loving every minute of it. In The Rifleman, Luke would always ride into town to kill some bad guy. In these cases, because he was a good and loving father, he would leave his son, Mark, back at the ranch where he wouldn't have to witness such mayhem. When he returned, Mark would always run up yelling, "Pa, Pa!" You would think Luke would realize at some point his son really worried about him going into town to kill bad guys. Anyway, Luke would climb off his horse and toss Mark a bag of licorice. Mark would thank him and immediately run off to the barn. We assumed Mark wanted to gobble down that licorice in privacy. Good stories...good memories....however, after watching this story repeated several times, I was convinced licorice must be the best thing to ever be allowed by law. I think I was eight the first time I had a chance to taste this stuff. Momma had given me dollar or so to ride my bike down to the Worth Food Store on old highway 183 in "downtown" Hurst. She needed milk and bread and told me if there was at least a nickel left I could have it. There was exactly one nickel left after picking out the milk and bread so I grabbed up a package of licorice. I couldn't wait to get home to taste that glorious stuff....and I was afraid if I waited to get home with it I would have to share, so I opened it up to eat on my way home. I remember I took a tiny little taste and chewed on it as I rode down the sidewalk past the Woolsworth and Myers department store. I couldn't figure out what all the excitement was about so I figured I better take a bigger bite. As I went around the corner and past White's Auto, my whole world came apart. I have never in my life experienced a more awful taste. It was kind of like scooping up a mouthful of melted tar off the road on a hot summer day and sticking in your mouth. By the time I made it to the next corner of the block I was spitting and coughing. I threw the rest of my nickel prize in the weeds next to a street lamp and rode on home nauseous and disappointed. Now the rest of the story is this: I made that same trip to Worth Food Store for my Momma for several years. Every time I rode past that street lamp, I would stop and dig around in the weeds until I found that licorice. It always looked exactly the same...never eaten, melted, or dissolved. I think it must have been road tar. I've thought about this a few times when I've gone past that street lamp in my old pickup. I wanted to stop and dig around in the weeds but I figured the neighbors would call the police about an old fat man acting strangely outside their windows. Now that I'm older and wiser, I am very watchful about what I eat. If it isn't absolutely filled with fat and sugar I avoid it. In deference to Debbie's pleas and the doctor's warnings, I am trying to eat more healthy food. This morning I looked through the kitchen to find something light and sugar free. I found plain yogurt, bran, and prunes. I mixed the three together and had one bite. Fortunately, I'm way to mature to start spitting all over the place. I calmly walked to the bathroom. Thank goodness for mouthwash. Happy Thanksgiving everyone! The Lord has blessed us all.

crystal rock found

I am Andy. Well today we found a crystal rock at a site where an old house was torn down. I am going to give it to my Daddy.The crystal was blue.

Thanks for that great story Andy. Don't be messing around on my computer anymore!!! Love, Papa

THE END

Cloudy with a chance of cotton candy....

This is the title to my grandson, Andy's, first book. I read it today for the first time at Grandparents' Day at Fort Worth Christian School. Andy is in the first grade there and the day was perfect. We saw Andy's classroom, met his teacher and promised to pray for her, ate a nutritional breakfast of homemade cinnamon rolls with coffee, and were entertained by some very sweet and talented students. My favorite part of the whole day was reading Andy's story. As I've mentioned many times before, I'm the richest guy in the whole world. I've had a story written for me by three of my grandchildren before and I treasure it.



This story by Andy isn't just for me. He wrote it for all four of his grandparents. They are "the BEST" in Andy's own words: PapaG, GuGu, Mammy, and Papa. I'm Papa. Okay, I'm going to type as Andy reads his story to me:

Once upon a time there was a city called Fun Town. All the houses were made of stale cotton candy. For breakfast, the wind blew in all flavors of Starburst candy. It poured down yummy orange juice. For lunch, cotton candy floated down from the sky. It looked like fog. For dinner, it poured down hot chocolate and melted the cotton candy. But then, all the people decided to sail to another continent. The end.

This story was also colorfully illustrated by Andy. Quite a talented boy. I may not let the other grandparents have the book. I want to keep it with my other story!!



I have a wonderful life. Right now I have a grandson sitting here next to me telling me every time I misspell a word. What would I do without my grandkids?!!?

One more thing. On our way home from Grandparents' Day we asked Andy a few questions about all he has learned so far this year. The subject of Thanksgiving came up and Debbie started asking him historical questions. "Andy, who started Thanksgiving?" "The pilgrims and Indians." "Who were the pilgrims?" "They were the people who came over from the other side of the ocean." "What was the name of the ship they came over on?" "The Mayflower." "What country did they come from?" "Indiana."

"night night, sweet dreams"...

How many of us heard this in our early years and then recited it to our own when they were little? It was a ritual that had to be completed before we felt completely tucked in for the night. Somehow this short blessing stuck with me because I've been blessed with a long life of sweet dreams. I love to dream because my dreams are almost always either funny or very relaxing. None of that scary stuff for me. I sometimes wake up laughing..not out loud of course...that would be crazy...but to myself. I like to tell Debbie my dreams the next morning and sometimes she rewards me with a good laugh. Sometimes she recommends I seek professional help. Last week I dreamed of my cousins in Missouri. It was a good dream. I'll tell you about it as best as I can remember, and in regard to my reputation of making things up I have to say, this one is as remembered. I didn't have to dress it up at all.
I got a letter from my cousin Cecil, asking us to make a trip to Missouri to see one of our cousins one more time before we died. This cousin had not come to either of our two reunions so we hadn't seen him in over 40 years. He was missing us and wanted to see us before we all died off. I'm not sure what they knew about the cousins in Texas but it was a bit discomforting. What did they know that we didn't about us dying off?? Anyway, I talked to my parents, my brother, and all my sisters and we agreed to make the trip. I volunteered to rent a 12 passenger van to make the trip easier. On an early Friday morning everyone gathered at our house to leave. As we began to board the van I started getting grief for the poor quality of the vehicle. I told them I had found a great deal so back off and enjoy the ride. As we pulled out of the driveway everyone started screaming to let them off. They all wanted to take their own cars. They were upset because the van I rented didn't have a steering wheel. I guided it with two leather straps like we used to see on the stagecoaches on cowboy shows. It wasn't easy to steer but it was sure fun! After everyone got off and headed for their cars I told Debbie we were taking the van because I had already paid for it....off we went in our 12 passenger van with me playing like Gabby Hayes and Debbie sulking. My Mom and Dad followed in their car with Glenn riding in back. Cindy, Julie, and Debbie rode in Cindy's car following my folks. Debbie lectured me all the way to Missouri to not run off and leave everyone behind because they were following me and didn't know the way. I didn't know the way either but that didn't appear important in the dream. We avoided the interstate because it was a toll road all the way to Missouri and we didn't want to pay those awful 30 cent tolls every hour or so. The back roads led us into winding mountains, down into dusty valleys, and across a couple of dry river beds. Yes sir, I felt like a stagecoach driver all the way there. Eventually we reached the turnoff, for the turnoff, which led to the road to the Brassfields' house. I was so proud of myself for memorizing the turns so I would know to turn just opposite on the way out. We made it to the house around sunset (amazing time for that distance) and got the warmest welcome from all the cousins...even the cousin we came to see...cousin Chirp. Cousin Chirp had a condition which didn't allow him to leave the house he was born in. I think the official term is called crazy but I'm not sure. Anyway, five years after the family sold the house he was born in he was convinced to leave and let the new owners have his bedroom for their son. He moved in with Cecil and was happy as a clam. Chirp had a million dollar smile. That's all he did was smile. He never spoke, never even left his chair, but boy oh boy that guy had a great smile. He must have spent all his spare time brushing his teeth. The visit went well and we headed back to Texas around dark the next day...I don't know why we left so late...must have had something to do with this being a dream and not reality. Anyway, the wind was blowing and the dust was heavy in the air. We couldn't wait to get back to Texas where everything was green and pretty. The dust was so thick when it came time to turn I could barely see the road but I managed and I remembered to turn opposite from our drive in. After a while Deb looked back and noticed no one had followed us at the first intersection. We were all alone. She gave me the lecture of my life for leaving everyone behind but it wasn't my fault. The dust was so thick they probably didn't see me turn. We turned around, which was no small feat with those pesky leather straps. My arms were getting tired and the novelty of driving without a steering wheel was quickly wearing off. We headed back to the road we had turned off of and decided we better head the opposite direction in case they had passed the turn and continued heading north. We drove that old van as fast as it would go. We drove so fast in that dust I completely drove through the first town we came to and I had to make another U-turn. Oh man, I was hating those stinking straps. We pulled up to the local saloon and asked this lady walking out if she had seen an old gray Buick followed by a white Chevy pass through lately. Oddly enough, this lady was my cousin Kitty from North Dakota. I sure hope we hadn't driven that far north but who knew... She told us she had seen them and told them to go back to the interstate. We thanked her and took off for the interstate. In the process we thought we saw them two or three times and each time I had to do another U-turn to chase the cars down. I hated those straps....stupid, stupid, stupid. Finally we came back to the interstate and I parked that van. I wasn't going another foot in that thing until all three vehicles were safely headed home, ON THE INTERSTATE!! I'll pay the cotton-picking tolls. I told Debbie to call Cindy on her cell phone...another mystery of dreams...why didn't we do that from the start..and I leaned the seat back to take a nap...then I woke up.
To your good fortune I usually forget my dreams within an hour or so. You shouldn't have to go through this again. Have a good weekend.

She's coming home!!!!

Debbie has been gone since last Saturday. She went on a cruise with a bunch of loose, wild women and left me home to fend for myself. She woke me up with a phone call from the port of Galveston this morning. The ship was pulling into port and she expects to be here around four this afternoon. It was the best news I've had since Nancy Pilosi lost her gig in the House. I was also glad to get the call from Deb because this will give me about four hours to clean house before she gets home. If I didn't have to teach a class at church this morning I would be tempted to miss and give myself an extra three hours. I need every minute of it. Of course that's the devil tempting me and if he doesn't stop it I'm going to make him clean the bathrooms. We are out of food. I'm out of clothes. I have no idea if I've paid the utility bills or not because Debbie is our bookkeeper and she has everything set up in mysterious electronic ways I don't understand. I've spent way too much money on emergencies like Halloween candy, eating out, and buying a really cool watch I didn't need but felt I should buy because I was left home by myself. I had no idea how much Deb does around here. This is the first time in nearly 40 years of marriage we've been apart for so long. If you haven't already figured this out, I really, really love my beautiful wife....and I sure hope she has a chance to read this before she sees the house...especially the kitchen. I can't figure out how the kitchen got this way since I don't know how to cook.

Shame, shame, shame.....

...I have been preaching for months to anyone listening that we need to all get out and vote those rascals out of office. My schedule to vote was 7 a.m. this morning, just like always...none of that absentee voting stuff for me! I got a call from my boss asking me to meet him a little before work to discuss inventory. Not a problem, I've voted during lunch break before. Not a problem at all though it was a bit crowded. Then after work I drove to my parents home for a great dinner and visit. Great time....I should do it more often. Got home to the empty house because my wife, Debbie, is basking in the sun somewhere in the Caribbean with all the "girls". I get to watch anything I want on TV and it's a shame there aren't more Gunsmoke reruns available during primetime. I clicked over to the networks to check the early results on the election and then the shame hit me. I glanced down and saw something in my shirt pocket. It was my voter's registration card. The mind is a wonderful thing and works in mysterious ways. Just seeing that card led me back to voting during lunch...which led to the crowded parking lot....which led to deciding to go eat before voting....which led to trying to remember where I ate...which led to that greasy little pizza buffet too far away from work...which led to the crazed drive back to work...which led to....yes, it led to....I forgot to vote.....I am sooooo sorry....

Oh sure....

...we're all busy. We all think we're busier than anyone else however, I'm busier than any of you....yes really! Let's just take for example all the days that have passed since I last visited this site. I had to drive all the way to Waxahachie to see my newest grand-nephew. My nephew and his beautiful wife from Boston have worked together to create a precious little fellow who has brought all kinds of joy to them, their families, and me as I watch the light in my sister's eye as she holds her first grandchild. He should be called Jack. There, I said it. Of course all that family time took away from my serious work. Next, my Dad's side of the family decided we needed to have a reunion. Good grief! We saw them just 28 years ago. That required me to drive all the way to the next county....a good 40 minute drive in rush hour traffic. All any of them had to do was drive down from Missouri, Kansas, New Mexico, and other assorted states. I don't know why they couldn't have picked something closer to my house. A whole weekend was used up visiting with people I had come close to not knowing any more. Had it not been for all their efforts I'm pretty sure I would never have seen them again because I'm just too busy to plan a trip out their way. The weekend was one of the most wonderful experiences I can remember. Why in the world would I allow myself to not see these precious souls more often. We're planning to get together again in two years. I sure hope I don't have anything going on that weekend. The following weekend Debbie and I took her Mom to Memphis, Tennessee, to see our nephew Jordan marry a beautiful young lady named Sarah. We were happy we were able to do this because we were the only family to show up on the groom's side...except of course for his mom, dad, and sister who managed to get here from China. All in all, it was a pretty lousy weekend. Not because of our nephew's wedding of course...it was 'vere nice' as they say in France. Our trip to DFW airport took about 20 minutes. We sailed through check-in and security despite my mother-in-law's metal hip, and had a leisurely hour wait at the gate for our flight. The flight to Memphis took just over an hour and I managed to squeeze in a short nap. We got our rental car without incident even though Deb was convinced I had no idea what I was doing and we began our drive to the hotel, just a short six miles from the airport. It took us over two hours to get there. My loving brother-in-law had given us step by step directions which were about as accurate as a $4 watch. I had also rented a GPS, hoping to make a quick run over to see Elvis if time permitted (which it didn't). I made the mistake of trying to use the GPS along with the written directions. I swear the lady on the GPS got mad at me more than once. If I ever hear "recalculating route" again I think I may go postal. I won't go over all the other fun stuff that happened over this long weekend except to say when we finally dragged back into DFW late Saturday night the battery in our car was dead...oh yeah, and I had to prepare for a colonoscopy the next day. So, do you see why I am so busy. I should have more time to reflect, watch the birds in the yard, feel the fresh cool air coming in from the north, and get plenty of sleep like everyone else, right?! Let me know your thoughts....and for those who have wanted to comment but can't seem to, I'm sorry. I got completely out and signed in again this morning. It just ain't that hard!! I did get up an hour earlier to do this however and it took every minute of it.

what a beautiful day....

have you ever wondered what an e-mail or text message would look like if all your fingers were one key off, either to the right or left....I just found out. my title looked like this: ejsy s nrsiyogi; fsu//// seriously...I don't look at the screen much when I type and I rarely look at the keyboard. Sometimes I look at the painting hanging over my desk of Hill Country bluebonnets painted by my baby sister, Debbie. Sometimes I watch cartoons with the grandkids if they are visiting Mammy's House. Sometimes I just close my eyes and start writing. Some of my favorite stories have come about that way. I do have to spend a lot of time editing my work but the joy of running my fingers over the keyboard as fast as I can is satisfying to say the least. I wish I could type as fast as thoughts pass through my mind. My brain, in comparison to some, is like Rhode Island compared to Texas....mine being Rhode Island of course. It doesn't take long for a thought to pass from border to border and then be gone forever. I wake up some mornings with so many story ideas I am tempted to take the day off so I can write. Sadly, by the time the world has used me for nine or ten hours I don't feel much like writing. I always think I'll get around to it tomorrow.....do you see my problem? All I meant to write was a few lines about how beautiful the day was and off I went on another tangent. I think I'm probably clinically crazy...is that a scientific term?? The day ended as so many do this time of year. The sun has a certain glow as it goes down on an autumn day. I love to sit out on the swing or on the tailgate of my truck just to enjoy watching the shadows change as the day ends. The air is crisp and clean after a summer of heat and humidity. This is the best time of year. If you disagree you are welcome to your opinion....despite how wrong you are. One more thing about this time of year and I will go back to doing what I do best...nothing. I was turning my compost pile Tuesday afternoon. No one showed up to turn it for me all summer so it didn't get turned too often. Deb assumed it was ruined. It was so good I turned parts of it twice. The mulch is so dark brown it's almost black. It's soft and smells good enough to eat. I wouldn't do that though. Along the west perimeter of the pile I dug up something small and very dead. I think it was the mole I tried to kill earlier in the summer...mission accomplished. I turned that spot again really fast. A memorial service is scheduled for Saturday at 9 a.m. Bring donuts. Take care and jsbr s hppf errlrmf@@

Happy Ten Fourth!!!

I wasn't sure so I walked all the way back into the kitchen to check the calendar and yep, I was right. Today is National Good Buddy Day....you know..."ten four good buddy"...hello? Is anyone out there?? I guess you had to be alive and conscious in the mid-seventies when CB radios enjoyed their 15 minutes of fame. Everyone had a CB antenna wagging in the air off their rear bumper. Some really creepy people had three or four antennas waving around as they drove the highways. My brother Glenn had a CB and it did make sense for him to have one. He was in the Air Force and constantly on the road. What didn't make sense was for him to create the handle "Greenie Weenie" for himself in honor of his brand new, mint green, Chevrolet Vega. He could never get anyone to respond to him on the airwaves.

Before long cell phones came along and hammered the final nail into the CB radio coffin. Cell phones back then were huge. Instead of an antenna hanging off the bumper of your car, you could now have an antenna sticking off this huge boxlike thing hanging off your shoulder. Cell phones have evolved from big and unreliable to tiny and unreliable. Everyone has a cell phone. It's mandatory...and just like the CB days, I'm the rebel. People look at me like I'm an alien when I tell them I don't own a cell phone and don't see that changing in this lifetime. This is a silly assumption because no bonafide alien would ever leave home without a cell phone hanging off his belt.

I sit in church on Sundays and if I'm not real careful my mind starts to wander. Several times I've noticed all the cell phones attached to the sides of guys passing communion. Everyone has a cell phone....EVERYONE!! It reminds me of watching cowboy shows when I was a kid and wondering why everyone was wearing a gun right in the middle of town. Of course the ladies weren't wearing guns. They carried them in their purses.

Y'all have a good day. Ten-four good buddies.

been missing....

Sorry I haven't posted in so long. I know all six of my loyal readers have been anxiously waiting for another entry. You ARE still out there, aren't you??!!

I haven't been feeling well for the past few weeks and when I don't feel well I get cranky. I didn't want to expose my cranky personality online so I just didn't write anything. Now I feel like writing but I don't have a single thing to say....yes, Mike, I understand that has never stopped me before. I only have a couple of minutes and then I have to leave for yet another doctor's appointment. One of these days they are going to figure out what's wrong with me. It will probably be the pathologist but at least we will know.

This is the very best time of the year. Cool weather, college football, shorter days...I love it all. Most of all I love not having to mow so often. I bought a new mower a few weeks ago and have used it twice. The first time didn't count because the yard didn't need mowing. I won't have to use it again this weekend but don't tell Debbie. She thinks I'm going to mow the backyard. I keep thinking I'll get too old to mow and my sons will tell me to stop. For now, one of them just shakes his head and wonders why I don't hire a yardman like he did.

I have much more useless things to write but Debbie is pacing the floor wanting to use the computer. I will go now. Everyone have a great day!

The reel deal...

I've been thinking about buying an old-fashioned reel mower to use in my front yard...thinking and thinking, studying and shopping, and thinking some more. I finally broke down and ordered one off the internet last week. It came in a couple of days ago. It stayed in the box on my workbench until this afternoon. The reason I bought it was so I could mow my front yard early in the mornings without bothering my neighbors. I probably wouldn't have bought for that reason alone but during my research I ran across an article written by one of those all natural, environmentally friendly nuts about the peace found in using a reel mower. I thought that sounded nice. My gas mower blows dirt, clippings, and exhaust in my face the whole time I'm using it and the noise is beginning to bother me. I couldn't use the new mower this morning because it had been three weeks since I last mowed. I know, that doesn't sound like me but I've been sick. Anyway, I put the completely US MADE mower together an hour ago and used good old American tools instead of those cotton-picking foreign metric things which have been forced on us. The mower is bright red with gray handles. It just looks like something my dad and uncles would have used back when men were men....REEL men...I set the height 3/4 inch lower than I had mowed earlier in the day and mowed my entire front and side yards in about 20 minutes. Totally quiet, totally refreshing to walk around my yard in the shade listening to the sound of 5 really sharp blades cut the grass rather than tearing it off. When I finished I knew I had made the right decision. I wore my sandals and took it easy. I probably could have sipped on a mint julep if I had any idea what a mint julep is. I walked into the house totally at peace with the world...and that's when the fight started. I did not think of this, and it's possible you didn't either, that when using a reel mower the grass clippings flow out the back of the mower rather than to the side. It's also now a proven fact that bare feet on sandals collect grass clippings very efficiently. I walked blissfully from the garage to the shower, removing sandals and other outdoor wear as I went. When I came out of the shower I met Satan, dressed up to look like my dear wife Debbie. Satan had spent the day cleaning house. He had done a darn good job too. He was not at all happy about my little green path from garage to shower...no sir, he was not happy at all. I sure hope he leaves and Debbie gets back soon from wherever she went.

The summer of '68...

I have to say the first 18 years of my life were about as good as it gets. I hope my beautiful wife, Debbie, doesn’t read that first sentence and think, “hey wait a minute! He met me shortly after that!” The last 40 years have been mighty fine too. When I turned 18 all the innocence of childhood was officially set aside to concentrate on the real world around me. Young men had been going to Vietnam for several years already and as the body count grew the darn war never seemed to end. At 18, I was officially a candidate for cannon fodder on that scary soil.

The Vietnam War stripped many young men and women of the carefree years. There was no thinking about just taking off for a year and working at odd jobs while trying to figure out the future. If a guy didn’t step out of the high school class directly into college he would soon find himself jumping out of a helicopter into Vietnamese jungle. My cousin, Mike, and I planned to go to college in Austin and then get jobs on a freighter to either Australia or Alaska. That darn war just kept looming over us though so we stayed right there....the university for Mike and junior college for me.

There were some really good times during those days of course. There was the night Mike and I went out running around with Hal and Fred. We ran into James while he was showing off his brand new Dodge Charger. He was drunk for some reason. I can’t imagine that of James, good soul that he was. Mike convinced James he shouldn’t be driving in his condition. He should let Mike drive instead. James got to feeling really bad after that. He decided he didn’t deserve to have a new car and caring friends who watched out for him. He insisted Mike stop so he could get out of the car. Being the caring friend Mike was he immediately pulled over and let James out. None of us had a clue where we were at the time. As we drove off into the night James wandered the streets trying to sober up enough to find his way home.

After a good long ride in James’ car we got to feeling a little guilty about leaving him behind like that. We drove back to where we thought we had left him. He wasn’t there. He wasn’t anywhere. We must have used up half a tank of gas looking for him. We finally found him wandering down a dark street. Mike pulled up and rolled down his window. He asked James if he wanted a ride home. James was so moved by this he got tears in his eyes. He climbed in the back seat and went on and on about Mike’s great looking car. Mike told him the car didn’t belong to just him. It belonged to Mike, Hal, Fred, and Rusty. He also told him if he really liked it so much he would sell it to him for $20. Five for each of us. We agreed that was a fair price so James paid us for our car. We drove him home like the good friends we were. We told him he could take possession of his new car the next morning when he was feeling better. He thanked us and went in to hit the sack. Mike gave him the car back the next morning. We kept the money.

We had lots of good times running around with those guys. Every time we got together though the conversation always came around to the war. We all knew we wouldn’t live to see 21. As it turned out two of us didn’t live that long. Hal was killed in a plane crash shortly after Fred died from cancer. James lives in Arlington, Mike in Azle, and I’m sitting here in Hurst where I’ve always been. All three of us are proud grandpas.

The summer of 1968 was pretty darn good for the most part. I had a great job working in the hat shop at Six Flags. The girls were pretty and friendly, my friends in the shop were all crazy, and life seemed good. Early one beautiful morning I got a phone call from the main hat shop. Muriel, the owner’s wife, told me I needed to call home right away. I went to a pay phone and called. My dad answered crying. He told me my cousin Jamie had been killed in Vietnam. I have never heard words more sad. Jamie was full of life. It had to be a mistake. I went back to the shop completely numb. Muriel came down to check on me and told me to go home. I didn’t want to go home. I knew how much my parents loved Jamie. I didn’t want to see them heartbroken so I stayed at work. I cried until I thought I couldn’t cry anymore while Muriel held me and patted me on the back.

When I had the time to think about it I decided there must be some mistake. Jamie couldn’t have been killed. I knew in my heart we would get news saying it was a mistake. I made myself believe that until the day of his funeral. The casket was open but sealed with plexiglass. When I saw him laying in that casket in his dress blues I lost all hope in life. I can’t explain how I felt to see my cousin there never to speak or laugh or tell a joke again. I still can’t describe the feeling, or maybe I should say the loss of feeling I experienced at that moment. I cried so hard and long for Jamie all feeling left me after a while. I realized after a few years that I hadn’t cried since Jamie’s death.

I remember the first time I cried after the summer of 1968. It was when a good friend, David O., lost his dad. I went to the funeral and watched as one of my best friends said goodbye to his father. He had been a good man but I wasn’t that close to him. I had lost several distant relatives...no tears. I was sad but no tears. I had received so much in blessings but I couldn’t feel anything. I wanted to cry at times but I couldn’t. Then as I sat at Mr. O’s funeral I began to think of what was gone. My childhood was gone. My cousin Jamie had been blown apart in a distant jungle for no reason and was forever gone. All the fun times I had with David in high school were long gone. And I began to cry. I cried for Mrs. O. I cried for David. I cried for Jamie. I cried for myself. I cried all the way home. When I walked in the door to see Debbie and those precious little boys of mine I cried again. I thanked God for giving me the time I had lived. If it ended the next day I couldn’t complain.

It didn’t end the next day. Have I mentioned my grandchildren?

It was a dark and stormy night....

...and I was driving home from Debbie Tatom's house. It was about this time of year and a short forty years ago. I was engaged to this wonderful woman and wanted to spend every spare minute with her. I didn't get much sleep in those days because I worked all day, went to UTA at night, and drove straight to Debbie's after my last class. I was so tired on this particular night that Debbie's mom made me go home to get some rest. I drove down Redbud from Melbourne and got about half way through the woods when I had to stop. I could not keep my eyes open. I got out of my car hoping the cool air would wake me up some. A storm was rolling in from the north, kind of like it is tonight, and the beauty of it was something to see. I stretched out on the trunk lid of my car to watch it for a while. I had drifted off to sleep when a clap of thunder just about made me wet my pants...I didn't of course. I'm not like my little brother(you had to see that coming Glenn). The storm had come in and there was thunder and lightning all around me. The wind was blowing and I could smell and hear the rain coming through the woods. About the time my feet hit the pavement the rain hit me. I was soaked before I got to the car door. I drove home wide awake! I still think about the peace of that night. It was totally quiet. The storm clouds were lighting up with the bolts of lightning behind them. A gentle rumble of thunder more felt than heard passed through the woods. There was no one else on the road....in fact, most people didn't know the road had been cut through the woods. I was young, skinny, driving a shiny 1967 Pontiac Tempest, and in love with the most beautiful girl in the world.
We drove home from that part of town tonight and watched the storm coming in north of us. We had taken my folks out to see Cody and Cayce's new house and then dropped them off. Memories kept flooding my mind of the simpler days. Would I go back? Not for all the money in the world. Am I glad I have the memories? Absolutely. I wouldn't change one single thing about my past because my present is too precious. Could I carry on a conversation with myself by asking these questions all night? Obviously. Do you find me interesting? Without a doubt I find you quite amusing. Well, thank you very much. We should do this again...I'm not sure but I think the cough medicine I took a few minutes ago is beginning to work....I feel kind of weird....good night all.

Old age...

Well...here it is. I officially joined the ranks of the hopelessly old. Today's my 60th birthday. I didn't really think turning 60 would make me old all of a sudden but it seems everyone who knows I've reached this milestone wants to know how it feels to be old. Bless their cotton-pickin' little hearts. I'm trying to handle this in a mature way (get it? MATURE?), because I have a younger cousin, Mike, who I've always tried to mentor to and be a good example. Someday he will turn 60 too and I want him to handle it with all the grace and style I'm showing today. Learn well Mike. You only have 3 more days. My life so far has been absolutely wonderful. I wouldn't change anything at all. It's as near to perfect as we're allowed on this planet. I hope the next 60 years will be as great as the first. For the second half of my life I'm thinking about getting some exercise and maybe lose some weight...I crack myself up sometimes. Thank you all for the kind comments, cards, and reassurances that I don't look a day over 59. I love you all...let's go eat cake!!

The trappers....

Debbie decided something other than a squirrel was messing around on our patio at night. The bird bath being turned over in the flowerbed pretty much confirmed it for me so last night we set a trap. It was exciting until I got sleepy at 9 and went to bed. This morning I looked out and found we had a possum. I was disappointed because I was hoping for a raccoon. I've wanted to make a coon skin cap ever since I saw the Davy Crockett movie on TV when I was six. After looking this critter over I pretty much decided I did not want to make a possum skin cap....and Debbie refused to even consider looking up recipes for possum stew. She made me call animal control. They took our catch away before 8 this morning and I didn't even get a chance to say goodbye. Debbie did get a few pictures for the family album though so he won't be forgotten. I have the trap set again for tonight. Hopefully I'll get my coon.

The Wealthy...

Grandpas are the wealthiest guys in the world. If you two or three readers take the time to look at the comments on this site you will know what I'm saying. My cousin, Mike, posted about his grandson adding Mike and Nancy's house to his prayers at night. A couple of weeks ago Gracie asked me to be sure to never change anything about our house (known to all as Mammy's House) because it is perfect just like it is now. I'm not sure but I think she plans on inheriting the place someday and doesn't want me messing it up before then. As you can see though, Mike and I, as grandpas, live in mansions and our wealth is beyond measure.

Another story about my grandchildren...They all love to hear my stories. It's getting to be difficult to make the stories interesting to all because of the age range but I'm still hanging in there as the "best storyteller ever" in the minds of these five precious little souls. To honor me on Father's Day three of my grandkids wrote a story for me and put it on a bookmark I will carry for the rest of my life. Jennifer allowed each of the three to give her one sentence each in order by age. They repeated this until the story was complete. I'll share it with you now:

A Story for Papa
Written by Grace, Nathan, and Sam
June 2010

There was once a man named Papa. He liked to eat ice cream, cake, and a big huge cake. One day Papa went to outer space. He opened his rocket door and saw an alien. He liked it. The alien hypnotized him and made Papa laugh by sticking out his tongue and making funny faces...kind of like a clown. And then Papa laughed so hard that he fell back into the rocket. Inside the rocket, he got very cold. He became frozen. He floated into the rocket shower, bumped into the hot water knob and thawed out. He decided it was time to come back to home. When he got back home, he had a wife named Mammy and they hugged and kissed. After they hugged and kissed, Papa had to put on deodorant (because the rocket ship was a little stinky). He decided to go outside and he saw a ghost. It was big! But then he looked closer and realized it was Mammy. He found out that Mammy was tricking him so he stomped inside, went to the refrigerator and got some pie! He ate so much pie that he got a fever. And his tummy started feeling bad. Papa then heard a big boom! He opened his eyes and realized it was all a gigantic dream. The end.

How many of you have had a story written for and about you?!

Have a great day.

good morning...

I haven't been as active on blog as I thought I would. I love to talk....I just hate sitting in front of a computer. I would much rather sit down with a cup of coffee and maybe a dozen donuts or so and visit face to face. We have had a lot of little visitors here over the summer. There's a grandchild sitting on the floor real often when I get home from work. I've loved every minute of it and hope it lasts forever. Of course it won't. Nothing ever does so I plan to soak up every visit from one of these special little souls. Last week Gracie was spending a couple of days. She asked me one night to make sure I never, ever change anything about this house. It's just perfect the way it is. What a sweetheart....of course she may have other reasons for not wanting drastic changes. She thinks she's going to inherit the place someday. Our latest visitor was Andy. Andy doesn't think of it as visiting when he comes here. This is just another of his homes. He knows what's his...everything! He and Gracie may have words over the final disposition of this place when we're gone. Y'all have a great day.

Payback...

I'm about to leave to have an all night study done of my sleep habits. Can you imagine a more boring job?? I feel like I'm a bit of an expert when it comes to sleep. I guess others want to study me to see how it's done properly. Before I go I wanted to tell you about how my cousin Mike paid me back for the double date I fixed up for him in the last story. Later in the week I want to brag about my grandchildren so don't let me forget.

Here's what happened...


There were so many times growing up when I wished I could just close my eyes for a minute and when I opened them everything would be okay. It never happened of course but there were situations when I squeezed my eyes shut so tight I gave myself a headache. One of those situations came along at a Friday night football game in 1967.
When the Hurst-Euless-Bedford School District was still growing larger and the Castleberry School District was beginning to shrink there were a few years where Bell High School, my alma mater, was in direct football competition with Castleberry High School, where my cousin Mike graced the halls.
On one football night, Bell was the visitor to Castleberry’s Homecoming game. Mike had called earlier and asked if I wanted to stay over and go out with a couple of girls after the game. Just because I’m a nice guy I agreed to sacrifice in such a way. I sat with my friends on the visitor’s side and watched Bell beat the heck out of Castleberry during the first half. Then the halftime show came on and I have to say right here and now there is nothing worse to a visitor than watching the backs of everyone on the field during a homecoming halftime show. Well, I take it back. There is one thing worse. Watching said show without the benefit of glasses is worse. All I could see were the fuzzy backs of the people on the field.
After halftime we figured the crowd had thinned around the concession stand so we wandered down for cokes and popcorn. I ran into Mike with his band buddies. He was all excited because the girl he had fixed me up with for the night had won band sweetheart! I got all excited too and thought about how great it would have been if I had actually seen her instead of something fuzzy wandering around out there.
When the game was over I started looking for Mike and my date! I found him easy enough because there were about forty band members standing around with Mike in the middle. As I walked up the crowd opened up just like they were expecting me. I should have run for Hurst as fast as I could because it was an obvious ambush I was walking into. Mike saw me and grabbed me by the arm. He reminded me I had a date with the Castleberry band sweetheart and then he grinned so big I got scared. Before I had a chance to bolt and run this husky young lady walked up and Mike introduced her. “I would LOVE for you to meet Thelma Thunderthighs, Band Sweetheart for 1967.” This girl was big. She was surpassed in her hugeness by genuine ugly. She made Fido from a few months before seem pretty darn good-looking. As I stared in amazement at Bertha and tried to formulate a reason why she would be the band sweetheart Mike came to my aid. He told me everyone had stuffed the ballot box. Thelma bragged that she had helped. I did not doubt her for a moment.
I have to say I took it like a man. I asked Thelma where she preferred to graze and she picked a pizza hangout in River Oaks. It seems this was pre-planned too because we got a standing ovation when we walked in. Thelma knew how to put that pizza away. I think I got one slice that night but to be honest, I didn’t have much of an appetite. We hung around the dark pizza place all evening with the band crowd (thank goodness) and then I offered to haul her home. When we got to her house I walked her to the door just like my dad had taught me and waited for her to unlock the door. Then she turned to me and said, “how’s about a little goodnight kiss?” I ran.

Double dates....

Well, I apolgize for last week's depressing outburst. It must have had something to do with that five dollar pizza I ate for a snack that night. Anyway, Debbie told me if I couldn't play nice I couldn't play. She grounded me from the computer for a week. I feel much better now and will get back to remembering the good stuff. My cousin Mike and I helped each other out through our formative years. The following story is true. I didn't have to color it up at all...

     I like to sit. I know it’s not a great hobby but I can’t help myself. I found something I’m good at so I work at it every chance I get. Used to be I couldn’t stand sitting. I had to be busy doing something but now I find sitting to be very satisfying.

     When I was a teenager with no place to go on a Friday or Saturday night I was miserable. The thought of sitting home with the family and watching television was as bad as the thought of getting drafted. I generally had my plans for the weekend made by Monday night at the latest.
     I have to admit I never had trouble finding a date. I learned early in life that Karen M. was never going to acknowledge my existence so I moved on. It seems a good portion of the female population at Bell High School found me to be acceptable, or maybe they were all half blind. I don’t know and I don’t care. If they said they were willing to go out with me that was okay. I did worry though if they actually said yes that there must be some type of problem with them. I generally went out with girls who would go out with me only one time. I figured they must be losers to date me….until I met Debbie anyway. I figured she was just too young to know better.
     I had a date with Susan S. one Friday night…planned a week in advance of course. This girl called me around Thursday to see if I could find a date for her dearest friend, Attila the Hun. I didn’t want to not go out because of this. After all, Susan was pretty darn good looking. Because of this I decided to ask my cousin Mike if he would go with Susan, me, and Fido to the bowling alley the next night. He agreed because he didn’t have anything going on that particular night.
     Mike arrived early on Friday afternoon and we changed into our killer date clothes, blue jeans, plaid shirts, and brown loafers. We hopped into my 1959 Chevy Impala and drove to Susan’s house. When Mike saw Susan he got pretty excited. Did I mention she was darn good looking? We walked part ways through the front door when Lassie came into the room. Mike actually tried to run. I had to grab him by the arm to keep him from running all the way back to River Oaks. We made our introductions and wiped the slobber off Rover’s chin then headed out to the car. I whispered to Susan that her friend kind of scared me. I wanted to make sure she had gotten all her shots at the vet before wandering around without a leash. That particular comment did nothing to improve the situation. By the time we got to the bowling alley Mike was staring at me with thoughts of revenge. He said staring at me was easier than looking at Rin Tin Tin but I knew he was planning on a serious reprisal. After we got our rented bowling shoes on Mike managed to throw up all over the place. I don’t know how he worked up such a good barf but he did a marvelous job. The evening was officially over. We loaded Mike up in the back seat while Susan and Elsie the cow rode in front with me. I walked them to the door apologizing as hard as I could. Then I went back to the car and headed for my house. A few seconds into the drive I looked in my rearview mirror to see Mike sitting up and smiling. He said, “Hey, you wanna go see Rosanna?”*.
    
*One of my former dates, which Mike had highly approved of.

Holiday??

Is it just me? I didn't feel like we celebrated the birth of our nation much yesterday. I personally took a nap and thought about taking a second one (depression always makes me sleepy)...Debbie changed my mind on that second nap. I worry that if there aren't some severe personnel changes in our nation's capitol during the next round of elections there won't be much to celebrate on the 4th of July anymore. Seriously, it's almost over here in the United States. 'Doom and gloom' wasn't supposed to be a part of this blog but I can't seem to get it off my mind. Please start preaching to your friends and neighbors about the need to look closely at our nation's leaders. Stop thinking "Republican" or "Democrat" and start looking at the person behind the party button. There are some real dumb people running our country. There are also some really bad people running our country. The Constitution is still the will of the majority of the people. Congress, and others, are trying to take that Constitution away from us. Why are we letting them do that?? I cry when I see old news reels of the men hitting the beaches of Normandy. I cry when I see the thousands of headstones for fallen soldiers...those who fought and gave their lives for our freedom...freedom we are lazily watching disappear by the hands of selfish, uneducated, or downright immoral "leaders".

Sorry to be so negative....on a more positive note, the Lord God is in control now and forever. Praise God!

Suit up and Shut up...

This is a phrase I learned in a Lifeline Chaplaincy training seminar I took awhile back. The idea is to take our visits to the sick and hurting seriously enough to dress up for the occasion and while there to listen to them instead of talking the whole time. I broke both of those rules on Tuesday night but I felt justified because of the situation. I was going to visit an old friend whom Debbie and I love dearly. He is in an extended care facility due to advanced Alzheimers (wild guess on that spelling). I called his wife in advance to see if there was anything in particular I could do for him. She recommended a gift of ice cream, the only thing he will eat, and the gift of gab....'just talk to him about anything even though he probably won't respond'. Since this was my only visit for the night I left the house dressed as I was, which is sloppy. I stopped at a drive-through for a milk shake and made my way to see my friend. I found this dear old man sitting on the edge of his bed with his hands folded in his lap staring at the floor. He looked up and grabbed my hand as if he had been waiting for me! This encouraged me since I didn't know what to expect....then he told me how sorry he was to hear of the death of my wife....to any who don't know, my wife is alive, well, and currently softly snoring in our bed. After he gave his condolences, he folded his hands in his lap and resumed looking at the floor. I tried everything I learned during my pastoral training to get through to him but nothing I did caused eye contact. He never looked up, even when I offered to sing!!! Finally, I thought of the only thing I know how to do somewhat effectively. I told him a story. It was a good story too. I laughed at it myself....I was the only one laughing. There was no response from my friend. After a while I shut up and just sat with him. I love this man and his wife and all I could do for them was to sit quietly. Ten minutes or so passed when there was a scream from the room across the hall. The patient decided she didn't want any care from her nurse and told her in no uncertain terms to "GET THE XXXX OUT OF MY ROOM AND LEAVE ME ALONE!". My friend slowly looked up, pointed across the hall, then pointed at me....I got the message....hey, at least we communicated.

The woods...

Long before the Methodist church made a parking lot out of it there was a great park at the end of our street. Before the city made a park out of it there was a really cool stand of woods with a creek running through it at the end of our street. We were absolutely forbidden to go anywhere near these woods for fear we would fall in the creek, be eaten by a bear, or possibly have more fun than was legal in 1956. For these very reasons we spent every waking moment planning a trip to the woods, sneaking off to the woods, or running and playing with total abandon in the woods.


The day was a perfectly beautiful spring day when Glenn and I felt the urge to make a trip to the woods. It may have been okay if we had bothered to tell Momma where we were going….of course if we had told her we would have been forbidden to go. It makes perfect sense to both of us even today that our reasoning was sound in sneaking off. We scooted out of the house with no problem. When there are five kids in the house it’s barely noticeable when two go missing. We made it to the woods and were having the time of our lives within a few short minutes.

Had we known this would be our last trip to the woods we would have soaked it in with every breath. Too many times in life the things we love are taken from us with no warning. After less than an hour Momma came looking for us. She found us. She had a switch in her hand and a mean look in her eye. Glenn was able to run because his feet were actually on the ground. He was only four though and never gave running a thought. He decided his best approach was to hide behind a weed. He was spotted in a very short second.

If I had been on the ground I would have run halfway to Bedford before I stopped. Unfortunately I was mid-swing over the creek on one of the grapevines hanging from the oak trees. And, I was swinging toward a very irate Momma. I thought about letting go and falling into the creek. I would have survived with only a couple of broken bones. In the end though I landed right in front of her and took the first bite of that switch right across my skinny legs like a man. Being a man was short-lived however. I was squealing like a girl after the second or third hit. Glenn wet his pants while I was whipped so he got a couple extra licks for that. The walk home was rough. We were still getting an occasional swat as we worked our way up the hill toward home. We had never counted the kids we knew on the block until that day. There must have been a hundred of them. They were all outside as we went by. They were all watching. They were all whispering, “there but by the grace of….” or something of that sort.

We kept our distance from the woods while the wounds to our legs and pride healed. It must have been at least a week before we ventured down there again. To our shock and sadness there were bulldozers tearing those woods down to make way for a new city park. Our hearts were broken. We vowed we would never step foot in that park. Then we ran home as fast as we could before we were missed.

What to do...What to do...

Reflecting back over the past few weeks I've decided dieting makes me a real grump. I'm a much happier fat guy. I think I should give up this idea of losing weight and enjoy my days with all these wonderful people around me. In fact, I was convinced this is a great idea and should be implemented immediately....then on Saturday Andy climbed up in my lap, rubbed my belly, and whispered, "Papa, you REALLY need to get some exercise!"....SIGH.....

Sleep tips...

I felt really good when I woke up this morning. I actually woke before the alarm went off. I mean I REALLY slept well.


I have found the secret to a good night’s sleep and I’ll share it with you if you’re interested. The first step to a great night of sleep is to stand in front of the mirror and stare at your body until you have convinced yourself you do indeed still look sexy without any clothes on. During this time of positive thinking, take several pills from the cabinet and swallow them with a minimal amount of water. Don’t be concerned about what the pills are for. If you didn’t need them they wouldn’t have been prescribed. If you swallow them with too much water you will be awakened during the night with an uncontrollable urge to pee. This is not helpful to sound sleep.

The second really important thing to do is prepare for sleep. I try to not watch a bunch of dramatic shows on television before I go to bed. I recommend reading for a few minutes or playing on the computer to unwind. If you’re so inclined and possess the talent, as I do, you may choose to strum the guitar. This has been found to sooth your mate into a sound sleep as well. My wife immediately covers her head with a pillow and doesn’t move. She must be soundly asleep.

Third, I always hook up my breathing machine. I love my breathing machine. I no longer suffer from sleep apnea and my wife no longer suffers from my snoring. I highly recommend everyone get his or her own breathing machine.

The fourth step to a good night’s sleep is to make sure the TMJ jaw splint is firmly in place. Of course you can’t talk after this is installed so be sure and whisper those sweet nothings to your loved one before installing it. I have found the jaw splint to be very helpful in stopping my tongue gnawing. That is very painful and not an inducement to sound sleep.

Be sure you never miss step five in my list of sleep aid instructions. This step involves firmly placing those nylon wrist supports to both wrists. This keeps you from bending your hands in uncomfortable positions creating pain and possible carpel tunnel damage. If you have supports for your knees put them on as well. The look is quite stunning and will invite welcoming comments from your spouse.

After all this I recommend you give your spouse “The Look”. You know the look. Even if the splint is already in your mouth and the breathing mask covers your face, do not fail to give your mate the look. Say something sexy like, “hmmphf hoffwluf”. This will give your mate the chance to say something back to you concerning the weather conditions in hell. After this response you can go restfully to sleep without wondering if you passed up a good chance for some fooling around.

If you have other questions, please feel free to give me a call. Call before 8 pm.

Just stuff....

I feel like writing tonight but I just don't have anything on my mind....of course I've been told that hasn't stopped me before. It's hot outside and everything on TV is a rerun or stupid...usually both. I can't get into this book I've been trying to read and for some reason Debbie doesn't like for me to play my ukelele real often.....so-o-o-o, there just isn't much going on to write about.

Our dad turned 87 this week. He didn't seem particularly excited about the event even though Debbie and I took him out to eat at one of the finer fast food places in the neighborhood. I guess when I turn 87 I won't be too excited either....it's not like turning 100.  Now that's exciting! I can barely wait to see how things are going in the world when I turn 100. Oh sure, I'll still be looking for a job and I'll probably have gained another 50 pounds or so but I doubt much else will have changed. We have a stable economy, great leadership in Washington and Austin, and morality seems to be at an all time high so I expect things will be about the same 40 years from now.

I really need a pitch fork to turn my compost pile. Anyone have a spare one out there? Do you mind loaning it to me? Do you mind turning my compost pile? I'll give you a bag next spring....come on, it's hot out there.

Nathan and Andy both graduated from kindergarten this past month. I asked Andy what he was going to do with his life now that he had finished school. He said, "Huh?". I asked if he was really smart enough to have graduated and he let me know real quick he was. So I figured I better test him. I asked him how much was 10 minus 5. He said 5. I asked him how much was 5 plus 5 and he said 10. I said "okay, if you had 10 apples and gave 3 to Mammy, I stole 2 while you weren't looking and ate 1 but gave the other one back, and you lost 3, how many apples would you have?" He looked at me for the longest time and finally answered, "it was just kindergarten Papa".

I know, this one is just stuff...kind of boring really. To be honest, and this is between just us, Debbie thinks I'm in here searching the web for a job....let's not tell her anything different, okay?

Have a good evening!

Life with Debbie...

I try to record things I find funny in life. That way I can laugh at them more than once. The following conversation happened between Debbie and me a few years ago when I was working in South Arlington. She was going to Arlington to see the grandkids...

1. This is an actual phone conversation I had with Debbie earlier this morning as she drove toward Arlington from Hurst :



R "Hey it's me. Don't go south on 820 to I-20. I-20 is shut down due to a bad accident."


D "So how should I come?"


R " Take Precinct Line Rd past Hwy 10, cross the railroad tracks, and turn left at the light. Follow that road all the way around to Green Oaks, turn right on Green Oaks and follow it all the way here."


D "I think I've come that way before but I went straight at the light and hit Green Oaks."


R "No, if you go straight you will run into Randol Mill Rd which takes you right back to 820. Turn left at the light and you will run into Green Oaks."


D "Are you sure I can't go straight and run into Green Oaks?" I'm almost positive I will run into Green Oaks if I go straight at the light."


R "Okay fine. Why don't you just go straight at the light then."


D "Okay, if I go straight through the light I will run into Green Oaks?"


R "No, if you go straight at the light you will run into Randol Mill which will take you to 820."


D "So if I won't run into Green Oaks when I go straight why would you tell me to go that way??"


Later in the morning she called me and told me she was lost somewhere and sitting in the parking lot at Big Daddy's Liquor Store. I told her to look for the sun. If she was looking at the sun she should get right back onto the road and stay on it. If the sun was to her back she should get back on the road to the left and stay on it. She got to Jamie and Jennifer's a little while ago.

SHHH!!

This is a secret. I'm starting a diet today. DON'T TELL ANYONE!!!! Wish me luck because I need to lose a whole person. I hope to lose the fat guy.

Have a good day.

Mike's story...

The family I come from is large and interesting. You already know about my uncle Frog and aunt Crickett. You probably think I'm exaggerating when I tell about them...and I am, but all the stories are based on my memory of things that really happened. Here's a chance for you to read about the past from the eyes of another family member. Mike is my cousin. His memory is better than mine and he is constantly pointing out errors in my stories to which I am not the least bit interested. He's a great storyteller. Here's one of his memories he sent to me yesterday.

I am cleaning files off my work computer because they say I am going to get a new one and I guess they have a narrow minded view of personal files. I found this childhood story I wrote for someone, I can't remember who. It is true:


We were visiting our Uncle Bill and Aunt Adelaide once. Uncle Bill had made some Souse, which I believe is hog's head lunch meat. At my mother's urging, I atypically ate some.

That evening I went to the movies with my cousin, Roy Lynn. He was a few years older than I and had a car. He took me to the Lantex Theater on the town square of Llano in his 1960 Ford Falcon.

I had traveled with Roy and his sister Lynda Ray (Sissy) before in this car. He would drive it as fast as he could down hill so it would have enough momentum to crest the next hill.

The feature at the Lantex Theater was a Hammer Production zombie movie. Remember Hammer Productions? They were British horror movies of the late fifties through the early seventies designed to scare the bejeebers out of you. They typically starred Peter Cushing and/or Christopher Lee.

We settle down in the theater and some girls come by and Roy leaves me to sit with them. He was cursed with teenaged hormones, while I wasn't. So I was watching the movie alone.

The opening scene was a 19th century English village evening foggy funeral. A bunch of men were carrying a coffin from the church to the cemetery and they managed to drop it. The coffin broke open and there was this terrible looking green tinted guy in it. The gathered him all up and closed him back into the coffin and continued the procession and burial.

Later in the movie, there was a scene where a beautiful peasant girl was walking home and decided to take a short cut through the cemetery because it was getting late. She became terrified because she felt someone was following her. She is running faster and faster through the cemetery until suddenly the same dead green guy jumps out from behind a tombstone.

I feel my hair go straight up in the air and then I start feeling hot and sick. I wander out into the lobby and start drinking from the water fountain. The next thing I know I'm passed out on the floor and Roy is trying to wake me so he can take me back to his house. We make it out to his Falcon and he drives me back to his house, but during the trip I throw up all over the inside of his car.

This was the last time Roy and I went to the movies.

And.........I never ate Souse again.

I've gotta lose weight...

I am getting so fat I feel disgusted with myself. I can't get out of a chair or bend over to pick something up off the floor without grunting like a well fed porker about to leave for market. My little granddaughter Gracie told me one time my tummy looked just like her mommy. That would have been fine if Jennifer hadn't been nine months pregnant. Sometimes Gracie's little brother, Sam, will climb up in my lap and slowly rub my belly. His commentary is always the same: "O-o-o-o-o, dat big tummy Papa!". Cayce's prayer life has definitely improved since marrying Cody. Everytime she sees me she prays, "Oh Lord, please don't let Cody turn out like that". Debbie is more direct with her assessment. She calls me Fatboy.....she used to call me "Honey"...but that would make me hungry and I would head for the kitchen. I've just got to lose some weight.

A Thoughtful Frog...

Have you ever wondered how boring life would be if it weren’t for all the weird relatives? For example, I have an Uncle Frog. Frog is one of my favorite people in the world. He is very educated. In fact, Frog is so smart he felt it more prudent to drop out of school after attending the fourth grade three times. He figured by that point he knew more than the teacher so any further attempts at education would be a waste of everyone’s time.


After excusing himself from the fourth grade Uncle Frog pursued a career in the exciting world of concrete form building. His talents took him to jobsites all over the North Texas area. There were many more professionals in this particular trade that took an instant liking to my Uncle Frog. On one occasion Frog invited some of his co-workers over for the night. It having been a long day at work and an even longer stay at a Jacksboro Highway bar, Frog thought it best to invite his guests to stay the night. Upon waking that bright summer morning I wandered in to Frog’s room to visit with him. I noticed immediately four sets of feet sticking out of the covers of his bed. Frog was a generous sort and wouldn’t allow any of his friends to sleep on the floor. Even though it was crowded Frog and his three friends found a way to fit into the bed that night. Snoring was quite pronounced so I wandered on down the hall into the kitchen and mentioned to my mother, Frog’s older sister, that I had counted 8 feet sticking out of Frog’s bed. I don’t know why she was so quick to get down the hall but I do know she pulled Frog out by the ear and had a long conversation with him in the kitchen with the door closed. Moments later Frog went back to his room and announced, “Boys, I’d forget about breakfast if I were you.”

Quick Memory Quiz...

Does anyone (excluding my cousin Mike who remembers everything in vivid detail and also still has the first dollar he ever made in his life) remember the year and model of the CHASE car in "Bullit"? Did I spell Bullit right Mike? If you have to rent the movie, or pull it from the dusty archives of your old VHS collection, to get the answer it doesn't count. The winner will receive.....hmm....absolutely nothing...other than bragging rights...if you can find anyone who cares...

I have no idea why this is bothering me. I should worry about the economy, the war, the degradation of our government and country as a whole. I can't do a thing in the world about these problems so I choose not to worry...just pray A LOT....and that is the last political, spiritual, or serious writing you will ever see on this blog.

Have a good day!!

The Dollar Store...

I love to go to the dollar store. Debbie will need to pick up some greeting cards or something and I'm always ready to go with her. I can walk the aisles and find things I didn't know I needed. I need lots of things when they only cost a buck.

I enjoy taking the grandkids to the dollar store. For just a little money I can walk out of there looking like Daddy Warbucks (if you don't know who that is ask your momma).

Debbie and I were walking through the store one evening and I found something I really, really needed. It was a six-pack of .5mm lead for my mechanical pencil. Now, my employer is more than happy to supply my lead since the only time I use this pencil is at work. But for one lousy dollar I could buy SIX individual packages of lead which typically costs $3 each from the office supply. For those who are math challenged that is a $17 savings on lead!!! Since I am a company man I spent my own dollar for this lead. I know, it is commendable but I hate to take too much credit.

I took the lead home and promptly forgot all about it. A couple of days ago I ran across it lying in a desk drawer. I took one of the six packets to work with me and loaded up my pencil. You cannot imagine how proud of myself I am because of my cost cutting techniques. Oh sure, the cost of safety goggles for me and anyone sitting within 15' of my desk was a bit much and the emergency trip to the hospital for Scott, who failed to get his goggles on in time, was more than expected, but doggone it, that lead was CHEAP!!!

Oh, I forgot to mention the cost of a new mechanical pencil. I had to replace it for some reason. Every time I tried to use it after loading it with my great find the lead would break off and sail off through the air. Eventually the pencil got to where it wouldn't turn as I tried to advance more lead. There was a weird grinding noise coming out of it. Finally a powder similar to graphite got all over my hands and shirt (did I mention the cost of a new shirt?) and I decided my mechanical pencil was defective. I had to throw it away and get a new one. It came with two pieces of lead so I better remember to bring another pack from home.

So, in summary:
Safety goggles... 4 pair $20.00
Trip to hospital... $570.00
New Shirt... $34.00
New mechanical pencil... $20.00
Finding a deal at the dollar store that saved $17.00 on the cost of lead... PRICELESS

The Bird Sanctuary...

Debbie has done a wonderful job transforming a once barren and boring backyard into a beautiful, peaceful garden. It would be a joy to sit out in the mornings, sipping coffee and watching the sun rise. I say "would be" because we can't do that in the mornings. I tried once again last Tuesday morning. After five minutes I had to come back inside so those stinking mother birds could feed their stinking, selfish, self-centered, spoiled babies. Springtime is the perfect time of year for sitting out in the mornings but we have to stay inside so the birds (who pay absolutely NO rent) will have free reign of the backyard to...sanctuate.

Yesterday morning I was sitting inside reading and enjoying my morning coffee when I was disrupted by a couple of crows. You know crows, black motorcycle jackets, slicked-back hair, attitude. They wander through occasionally to scare the birds for laughs but yesterday they stayed and made so much noise I decided to walk out and show them who's really boss around here. They flew to a low hanging limb and stared at me staring at them. In my mind I looked a lot like John Wayne standing there but in their minds I was just a fat guy in baggy jammies standing on the patio. I stared at them until I got bored and as I started to go back inside I saw what they were after. A tiny gray cat was hiding under one of the Texas Lilacs. He (or she) was trying to get away from those crows. I acted like I was throwing a rock at him (or her) so she (or he) would run off while she (or he) had a chance. I would NEVER actually throw a rock at a cat of course. He (or She) took the bait and darted under the fence and away. I hope the crows didn't notice but you know how shifty they are. I can't believe I let my coffee get cold while I was defending a cat.

The Golf Ball Caper...

I don’t know why all the good memories happened in the summertime. When you’re a kid summertime is absolutely it. Nothing compares with summer, except for maybe Christmas….and then only if you get really neat stuff.


It was yet another golden summer day in Hurst. Aunt Cricket, Bruce, Glenn, and I were cruising around the area checking out fruit and vegetable stands for free samples. I mentioned I knew a place where it was easy to find golf balls. No one had mentioned golf balls but I felt uncomfortable with no conversation. Any topic in a moment of silence was my motto.

Bruce and Glenn perked right up at the mention of golf balls. Golf balls were so much more interesting than free samples of watermelon at the fruit and vegetable stands. You have to remember these were the “good old days”. The Super Ball was yet to be invented so to the three of us nothing bounced higher and faster than a good old golf ball. With a minimum of effort we convinced Cricket to turn that Cadillac around and head for the city park.

Hurst used to have a wonderful park. Before it was a park it was a wonderful pasture with a creek surrounded by woods. We were absolutely forbidden to enter this area because “it was dangerous”. It was our favorite place to play. After the city turned it into a park and built the ballpark we swore we would never go there again. Then they built the swimming pool and all was forgiven. But let's get back to the story.

We talked Aunt Cricket into driving us over to the area of the park where I had found golf balls earlier. She parked the car in the gravel lot and told us we had fifteen minutes to find any balls we could. We took off at a run and started looking as hard as we could. At first we found nothing. Then all of a sudden Bruce yelled, “I got one!” The party was on. Glenn found the next one and I immediately found three more. It seemed they were popping up out of nowhere. After a minute or two we had found close to a dozen balls. That’s when I saw one move. I grabbed it and was stuffing it into my pocket when my shallow little brain processed the information that the ball was moving when I first saw it. I looked up and saw a middle aged guy with a club waving at us. He obviously thought we were shagging the balls for him. We obviously had no idea what “shagging balls” meant. When we saw him we started running for Cricket’s Caddy as fast as we could. When we got close enough to the car Bruce yelled out, “start the car momma. Start it NOW!” For some reason, and this is why I loved her so much, Cricket started the car and leaned over and opened the doors so we could hop in. She peeled out of that lot so fast the middle-aged guy with the club was peppered with gravel as he raced after his balls.

We were probably two blocks away when Cricket finally asked why that ugly man was chasing us. We told her we had no idea as we counted our golf balls for the third time. One minute he was hitting golf balls and the next he was screaming and chasing us. She shook her head and admitted the world was going to hell in a hand basket.

I will love my Aunt Cricket till the day I die.

Family...

Most folks have family. I know I do. My family is better than your family. Oh yes, it is. I love my family more than you love your family because my family is more loveable than your's. Saturday afternoon we met at Jamie and Jennifer's to celebrate an early Mother's Day for Debbie. Jamie worked the grille making some wonderful burgers. Meanwhile, Jennifer worked even harder preparing the meal to go with the burgers. Jennifer is a good cook. I always make myself sick when I eat over there. She made a cream pie from scratch...she even made it without a recipe. It could have turned out horrible since she decided on the ingredients as she made it. It could have turned up horrible but it didn't. It turned out wonderful. I was doing okay until I ate Debbie's pie along with mine. That's when the nausea started. But it went away soon and I was wishing I had stolen Cayce's pie when I took Debbie's.

Jamie and Jennifer are wonderful parents....so far. The four grandchildren living under that roof may do them in before its time but for now they are wonderful parents. Grace is an adorable eight year old. Nathan is a quiet, reserved boy. Sam is hilarious. If we ever figure out what he's saying during his long monologs he'll probably be even funnier. Lily is an angel. I am not making this up just because they are my grandchildren. Everything I said is true. Whenever Mammy is in the house the reaction is similar to a shot of pure sugar into the veins of these precious little souls. Debbie and I think this is just fine. The louder the room, the better the entertainment. Cody and Cayce seemed a little shell-shocked when they left. I'm not sure we will be able to count on them for an additional four grandchildren. That's okay. Three will be fine as long as at least two of them are girls.

We took my Mom and Dad out to eat tonight. We had catfish at Catfish and Company. They specialize in catfish if you were wondering. It was good. I ate too much and had to turn down the lemon pound cake offered to me when we took them home. I did think far ahead enough to bring a large slice home with me.

My parents are in their mid-eighties. They celebrated their 63rd wedding anniversary last month. They raised all of us well enough that we've been successful, happy, and out of prison. They are usually happy and fun to be around but tonight they seemed a little down. My Dad isn't feeling well and had some trouble with his balance when we left the restuarant. I'm always a little clumsy so the two of us looked like a couple of drunks as we made our way to the car. After taking them home we sat and visited for a while. They perked up a little but not a lot. I worry about them. I tell them not to worry about things....enjoy each day and don't give a thought to anything worrisome. I tell them that and then I come home and worry about all those things plus some I make up along the way.

I love my family.

darn....

I KNOW how to spell my daughter-in-laws' names for crying out loud. I just got a message from Cody telling me how to spell Cayce. Good grief...do I look like an idiot? Oh sure...I've been waiting all this time for someone to comment and now EVERYBODY wants to comment.

I've spelled Cayce's name wrong every time I've typed it since starting this blog. I don't know why. I KNOW how to spell Cayce. Debbie said I can go back and fix all the misspellings. I think its easier to just admit I messed up and let the 'Casey' in the previous notes stay. I'm sorry Cayce. I'm old....

I'm sure glad I haven't made that mistake with Jeniffer. She woulda whupped me.

Fun with a Crickett...

The summer I learned to mow marked the end of my freedom. I found myself working every spare moment to make a couple of extra dollars. I have no idea where all that money went but I sure remember all the hours behind that mower.


The summer before I learned to mow was my last toss at the simplicity of childhood. That was the summer my Aunt Cricket and Uncle Wayne moved to Hurst from Tyler. Their baby boy, Bruce, was Glenn’s age and we rode our bikes over to visit every time we could sneak off. It wasn’t so much the fact that Bruce was lot’s of fun to play with. He was in fact a bit boring. The real fun person was Aunt Cricket.

Cricket liked to get out and explore the countryside in her shiny black Cadillac. We felt it prudent to accompany her on her meanderings because they nearly always included a stop at the Dairy Queen for a nickel ice cream cone. One day she decided it would be a good idea for each of us boys to build a soapbox derby racecar. They lived on a steep hill which would be perfect for racing as long as there wasn’t a real car going through the intersection at the bottom of the hill at the same time the race was nearing completion.

We drove to the city dump that morning because Cricket figured we could find everything we needed to build those cars for free….as long as we didn’t mind digging through the city’s trash. Of course we didn’t mind…good grief. We found so many old wheels off of broken down toys we wondered who could these people be who threw away perfectly good stuff. We also found pieces of 2 x 4 boards, plywood, and enough old nails to straighten that we were in business in no time.

Later in the day, after minutes and minutes of meticulous production, the three cars were ready for the race. Unfortunately, it was about five in the afternoon so Cricket decided it would be best to let all those crazy working people get home without having to dodge us. The race was rescheduled for 9 o’clock the following morning.

It was a beautiful race day at the corner of Irwin and Cheryl Lane in Hurst that morning. The sun was shining bright, Cricket had fed us donuts and chocolate milk until we shook, and Momma, Cindy, Julie, and little Debbie were sitting on the curb in eager anticipation of the race.

The three of us towed our racers to the top of the hill. The air was filled with the electric thrill of competition. We lined up on Cheryl Lane. We glared at each other as we waited for Cricket to drop the checkered table napkin she held in her hand. The napkin dropped, we released our brakes (took our feet off the ground), and plummeted to the bottom of the hill with a speed that would have made smaller boys cry. We were moving so fast it scared us. It scared Cricket too because she was at the bottom of the hill and she was the first to see the flimsy rope we were using for steerage snap off of Glenn’s car. She ran for the house a bit faster than we were moving so she wasn’t a part of the pile up. Glenn plowed into the side of my car, which immediately lost the whole front 2 x 4…I mean axle. I hit Bruce and sent him into a spin. With the nose of my car grinding into the asphalt and Glenn’s broken machine coming apart next to me, we both became airborne. Glenn didn’t go far. He landed on the back of my car, which was slowly coming to a stop. I completely cleared the front of my car and finished the race on my chin. It doesn’t hurt now unless the weather changes real fast. Boring Bruce sailed across the finish line like a blur with three wheels still attached. It was amazing how close the insurance salesman’s car came to hitting him. That salesman had reflexes to write home about let me tell you! Bruce continued down Cheryl Lane and the salesman came to a clean stop in Cricket’s front yard. Both Bruce and the salesman had to go home and change their underwear but it was worth it to see the jubilation in Bruce’s freaky winner’s dance.

Tomorrow I’ll tell you about the golf ball caper that happened later in the summer. Cricket figured she better sell the Caddy after that little disaster.

Golden moments...

I was wandering around the foyor at church last night trying to figure out which class I wanted to attend. I heard a loud "HEY PAPA" and turned just in time to catch Andy who was running toward me at full speed. Casey walked up behind him and gave me a warm hug. We talked for just a minute when Andy found a little caterpiller struggling on the floor. He showed it to Casey. She got down to Andy's level and picked the caterpiller up. While holding it in her hand she talked to Andy about the wonder of butterflies. Then they walked, hand in hand, outside to find a new home for the little caterpiller.

The caterpiller and I are both glad Casey was there. I would have squished it....

Good days...good nights

I found out yesterday afternoon we had an overnight guest. Debbie called around 3:30 to tell me one of our grandsons, Andy, was spending the night. Andy took the phone from her to tell me to come home RIGHT NOW! I made it through the rest of the day but hurried home as soon as possible. I got home to pancakes made in letters. There were four cakes for A-N-D-Y; four for P-A-P-A; and twenty-three for   D-E-A-R  S-W-E-E-T  B-E-A-U-T-I-F-U-L  M-A-M-M-Y. That Mammy can really eat.

After dinner Andy and I took his metal detector to our front yard to look for treasure. We found seven cents...but one of the pennies was from 1942 so that was pretty exciting. After a movie and random snacks we got Andy to bed and we quickly followed.

This evening we finally got a chance to celebrate Jennifer's 40th birthday....did I say 40?! I'm sorry, I meant to say 37th...it's so close to 40 I get confused. We sat down at our table with the entire family seated around one table. Have I mentioned I'm the richest guy in the world. I felt so blessed I was afraid I would start to cry while saying the blessing. Luckily Cody suggested Sam, our youngest grandson, say the prayer. Sam says a good prayer...it's long....really long and it's kind of hard to understand everything he has to say but the family and the food were both very well blessed.

We all ate too much. Well, actually Cody didn't eat too much. Casey made sure he stuck to one helping and then let him have only one scoop of ice cream with his cake. Casey takes good care of her man. Jennifer takes good care of her man too. Debbie lets me eat anything I want whenever I want. Does this present a message of some kind.....nah....

Well, its been a long day and I only had time for two short naps. I guess I'll sign off and go to bed...by the way, the time is off on this blog. It's actually 9:23. That is 23 minutes past my bedtime.

Sleep well!

Oatmeal broke my toe...

There are lots of  "Thou shall nots" in the Bible. Ten I know of right off the top of my head...."Thou shall not murder, Thou shall not steal, Thou shall not covet thy neighbor's wife"....that last one isn't a problem at all in this neighborhood. No where in the Bible does it say "Thou shall not kick the kitchen cabinet barefooted"....but it should.

In my ongoing effort to eat more healthy food I may have broken my toe this morning. Those stupid round oatmeal boxes are HARD to open for the first time. I pulled on that plastic lid for all I was worth this morning. It finally came off with a pop. Oatmeal went everywhere.  My first thought led to my hurting toe of course. My second thought was "better on the floor than in my mouth". I'm going to stop off at McDonald's for a breakfast burrito.

Elm Street

We were so cotton-picking rich growing up we felt sorry for most of our friends. Our house had real brick on the front of it and it was the biggest house we could ever imagine. It had to be at least 900 square feet. It was huge I’m telling you! Friends and neighbors described our house as the one on the street with the trees. My dad loved planting trees. Every time he saw a sale on trees another one was planted in our front yard. Of course no two trees were alike. That would have been boring. Mowing the lawn in our yard was a unique experience. We felt sorry for the poor neighbors around us who walked back and forth with their mowers cutting grass in the hot sun. We never went more than a few feet in a line before getting to go around a tree. The yard was always shady. We were so darn rich.


My dad worked three jobs to make sure we had everything we needed growing up. He was an electrician at the defense plant. He also sacked groceries at the Worth Food Store and cleaned floors and toilets at the Glenview Community Hospital. We felt sorry for our friends whose dads only had one job. We couldn’t figure out how grown men could be so lazy to quit working at 5 in the afternoon. If my dad got home before 10 at night we worried that he wasn’t feeling well.

One day in June, I believe it was in 1956, my dad came home with the station wagon loaded down with something. We knew it was Glenn’s birthday so we figured, “hey, the favorite son is getting a real treat this year!” As it turned out dad had been shopping for Glenn’s birthday but the White’s Auto Store wouldn’t let him charge a toy wheelbarrow and shovel so he went ahead and charged new bicycles for Cindy and me. That way the wheelbarrow and shovel would be a high enough amount to warrant setting up an account. That was one of our favorite birthdays!

Lessons from a Frog

I had to share my Uncle Frog with several ornery cousins. They all seemed to think he was their uncle too. Fortunately for Glenn and me, Frog preferred living at our house over anyone else’s and many good memories exist because of his good taste in accommodations.




One of the cousins who tried to horn in on my time with Uncle Frog was Mike. Mike and I are the same age within three days. I’m the older of course so much more experienced in the ways of the world.



The second time Frog lived with us we were living on Sam Calloway Rd. in Fort Worth. One of the things I remember most about living in this house is Frog teaching Mike and me to smoke. We were appreciative of this opportunity because neither of our dads thought we were old enough. We were four and time was wasting. I still remember that day as if it were yesterday. Frog was sitting on the couch enjoying a good cigarette break. Mike and I wandered in from fighting Indians and bad guys and climbed up on the couch on either side of him. Purely out of a sense of discovery we asked Frog what cigarettes tasted like. He said he couldn’t explain it. We would just have to find out for ourselves. I thought that would be the end of it because I knew Frog to be very attached to his cigarettes. Mike had a more inquisitive nature and continued to pester him for a valid answer. It never took much to wear Frog down. In about three minutes he produced a cigarette out of his pack for each of us and kindly lit them up before handing them over. The three of us had barely settled in for a good smoke when Frog’s older sister, my momma, walked into the room. You would have thought we were doing something dangerous the way she reacted. I don’t know if my Aunt Ramona ever knew that Mike got a spanking from my momma. I do know both of us got a severe beating and Frog would have got one too had he not been just a shade faster than momma getting to the front door.



Mike and I gave up smoking after that. We saw no sense in getting beat for doing something that made us want to throw up.