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....