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!
Wednesday, September 29, 2010
Saturday, September 18, 2010
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.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
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?
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?
Thursday, September 2, 2010
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.
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.
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