Good "News" , for a change..

See?  News ain't all bad.....

Another Calendar Page To Tear....

It is just about time to tear off the last calendar page for the year.  I want to thank everyone for their kind comments and their hospitality in letting me browse their thoughts by reading your blog posts throughout the past year. My wish is that everyone to be as fortunate as I have been over the years and perhaps years to come.  In this fortune, you all have been an added ingredient. I wish to each and all a happy, merry, fun, and fortunate "this time of year", but for me, to all of you.  (Ya'll),,,

   Merry Christmas

Write With Pictures - Prompt

Write with picture is a great Blog-Site.  I enjoy it because of the group or team participation.  No FanFare here, just jump over and particpate.

http://writewithpictures.blogspot.com/ 

Ms. Kelli works hard and does an exceptional job but she could use more folks to make it "funner". 
This is my Quick Write for the picture prompt for Tuesday.

Photo by Dan

San Antone Rose

Deep within my heart…lies a meellll ohh deee


A song of old San Annnn-tonnne.


The stone bridge arches across the San Antonio River the same since the WPA days. As kids, my sister and I would play down on the River Walk just before dark and watch all the couples walk hand in hand along the shallow waterway. History has a way of adding to the flavor of new beginnings. The mating dances were hardly notice by us two youngsters, more interested with catching frogs.

Where in dreams I liiiiiivvee with a meeem –ooh-riii


Beneath the stars all alone.


Future trips while visiting my Aunt’s brought greater insight and pages of the calendar. The river stayed the same but the participants were more of the equation. There seemed to be less interest in catching frogs, and fireflies. Glances and subtle waves were too much of a distraction.

It was there I found beside the Al-a-mo


En-chant-ment strange as the blue up above.


A moon-lit pass that only she would know,


Still hears my broken song of love.

But weekend visits pass quickly and the mist of memory can grow thin. Thoughts of next summer faded until time drew nearer for the next journey of another visit. The old saying “Take you eye of the prize, it will disappear” has a lot of truth to it. Standing alone silently under the stone arch peering to the far bank of the river, a Texas Swing Band was sashshaying through the Bob Wills hit of 1944.

Moon in all you splendor, know only my heart;


Call back Rose, Rose of San An-tone.


Lips so sweet and tender, like petals falling apart


Speak once a-again of my looovee, my own.


A broken-song, empty words I know

Still live in my heart all a-lone.


For the moon-lit pass by the Aall-a mo,


And Rose, my Rose of San Annn-tone.



Italicized Words and Music by Bob Wills 1944



 

Fun Challenge from "The Literary Lab"

Domey for over at "The Literary Lab", sent out an invite for a One Sentence Story UN-challenge. 

http://literarylab.blogspot.com/2010/12/charlies-one-sentence-story-uncontest.html

This is a fun site if you haven't visited.  I thought what the heck and sent in my one sentence novel. lol

photo credit from

http://www.farmerswife.blogspot.com/

http://athomewiththefarmerswife.blogspot.com/

 

The slap of the rickety screen door, like a starting pistol, signaled the race for life as he left the old farm house for the last time.

Thanks I think I Needed That

I would like to thank Ms. Suzyhazye over at "Tales of Extraordinary Ordinariness" for coming back with her recipes. (and her other writings). 

http://www.suzyhayze.blogspot.com/

Ya see I am wayyyy tooo bigggg a fan of homemade bread.  This was my second attempt at her "Beer Bread Recipe", although the first one turned out ok too.  It is so simple even an ole caveman codger like me can do it.  I won't repost the "how to's" but it is only a short hop over to her site and see the post if you missed it.  I used Dundee's Honey Brown Beer and it gave it a "sweet whang", which was just ok with me.  The only thing I changed is that I used mini-loaf pans, which made two small loaves.  I bought these pans because my little grandson luvvvvvssss bread and i wanted him to have his very own. Give it a try..

I SA-idd It Wuz the Guv'ner

I Said It Was The Guv’ner

Being vocal is an understatement when referring an older sister who is the youngest of three girls. But to tell the truth, it sort of runs in the whole family. From here on and in other cases you will know her as “Momma Lou”. That’s what her herd of grand-young’uns call her. She likes to do, what we pronounce down here as “arr-gee”. She’s gonna do her dangdest to have the last word, but this story is only partially about Momma Lou.

“No, Momma Lou, it didn’t happen that way. I was not even there that night.” Convincing her is like trying to talk a frog out of his croaking.

“Yes, dadgum (my word, not hers) it you were. You and Toodlums were there picking your guitars when I got there.”

“No, that was the party that ya’ll throwed over at the Scout Hut when ‘Snag’ Larson told everyone his family was being transferred and everyone put together a going away party.” He made the whole thing up because it was customary for the students to give parties in honor of those whose families got transferred. The oil patch was playing out and getting transferred was a common thing. ‘Snag’ hoodwinked the whole bunch with that one.

“Well, it did happen that way.”

“Nope, did not”

“Did too, Glenn Bert.”

Shaking my head from side to side, “Did not.”

“Shut up ‘fore I slap the shit out of you, I SA-IDD it was the Guv’ner.” Spit spewed with a fine mist as the word “Guvner” came out as we both busted out laughing. I knew I had convinced her of her error but she will never admit to it.

Several other members of the family, sitting around the table, busted out squealing and laughing and hee-hawing. The Boss has been around my family since about the time she grew out of her diaper age and started to school. She laughed with everyone else because it really was a funny, or at least amusing, sight. I caught her eye and I figured out pretty quick she didn’t “get it” and reckon you don’t either.

One of the countless Sundays all three sisters and brother-in-laws were at our house for eating one meal or the other. The main munching had pretty much run its course and we were talking and telling tales with about thirteen conversations going on. That week a representative from the governor’s office had addressed some part of the student body at a neighboring university. It seems to be big local news. The TV news and newspapers had just about worn the story “see through” thin. Whatever his speech had been about was not important. It was the fact that a state official would come so close to where we were. Actually they did that all the time but somehow this was different.

My mother, from here on in this story and future reference, and because all the grand kids call her by this title, will be referred to as Grannie. Grannie always sat at the end of the table and at the adjoing corner Paw Paw took his place. Paw Paw was still finishing his helping of “Arish Stew” and Grannie had pretty much finished up.

“D’jall hear ‘bout the guv’ner coming down to the college this week?” She was picking at a cup of peach cobbler.

PawPaw had just shoveled in a big tablespoon full of stew and chewed several times. “Maw, it wuddent the guv’ner it was one of his men.” That’s what he called her most of the time; Maw. He continued with another spoonful.

“It wuz too the guv’ner. That’s what they been saying for several days up at the Court House Café.” Grannie had worked several years there and knew quite a few people that talked about these type things. “I guess they oughta know what they’re talking about.”

“Well Maw,,,,it waddunt the guv’ner. It was somebody he sent up here to talk for him.” Paw Paw seldom got rilled and was not anywhere close to being where he actually gave a flip one way or another. Now, you take Grannie, she had sort of a temper at times. You could gauge the level of that temperament by the swinging of her leg back and forth crossed over one or the other knee. The swinging was now pretty “peurt”. That was a word from Paw Paw. I never really knew the origin but it means fairly fast or quick: peurt.

Leg swinging stopped: “It wuuuzz the guv’ner.”

“Naw it wuddnet , Maw.” Leaning over his bowl so he wouldn’t drip taking in another spoonful of stew. The thirteen conversations stopped to none. It was kind of like watching a checkers game. Who’s going to move where, next?

“I am going to,,,,slap you,,,,right,, square-daabb ,,,,in,,,the mouth,,,,,,,I saaaiiid,,,,,it,,,,wuuzzz,,,,tha GUV’NER!” Finger pointing and peering down her nose.

It sounded like the Fighting Red Devils had just scored the winning touchdown in the last two seconds of the game. We could not hold it back.

Stifling a laugh and settling for a smirky smile, Paw Paw looked down the table to where I was sitting, swallowed his mouthful of stew and surrendered.

“Well, eye God, Maw, I guess it wuuzzz the Guv,ner then.” The roar of the crowd erupted again.



“Yep. Momma Lou, eye God, you are right. I suppose it wuuzzz the Guv’ner.”

Lost and Found ,, Beck's Father's Coat

In sticking with my promise to myself to NOT post political junk on this site, I would like to make a disclaimeer here.. This is  NOT a Political Post, but it is a segment from Glen Beck's TV show.  The subject is about a young single mother and her story about finding Glen Beck's father's coat.

..

"Open That Jar of Pickles"?

Open That Jar of Pickles


“Let me open that jar of pickles for you”.

Twirling around , hopping, in the kitchen must have been part of a magical dance to somehow help herself loosen the lid atop the jar of Mt. Olive dill pickles.

“I want to do it myself”.

With this kind of determination, always called for wrinkled eyebrows in sort of a “pout” and the heightened concentration by sticking her tongue out. With this, she had not changed since she was old enough to walk.

“Daddy, Daddy, come look. I can do it”.

At first I felt a bit of a shock. A parent can instantly see signs of pain in the face of their children. I had been occupied all morning building a storage shed in the back yard to put extra boxes that we had yet to unpack. Dust and dirt covered her little five year old face. Each cheek sported horizontal “clean” streaks resembling cartoon war paint. It was easy to recognize the knuckle smears where the backs of her hands had wiped the tears, and the dirt, from her eyes and cheeks over and over again.

“I can do it. I can ride my bicycle”.

By accident, we had moved a small 12” child’s bike that had belonged to a friend, when we moved to South Carolina from Texas. I remembered distinctively that it was not equipped with training wheels.

“Come watch me. I can ride it”.

Little, short, running strides could barely keep up with my normal walking gait. The bicycle had about as many scratches as she did. The knees of her blue jeans were almost worn throw and her tennis shoes were on their last leg. Snatching the frame upright on to its two wheels, she stood on her left tip-toes in order to throw her right leg over the seat.

“Don’t bite your tongue off”.

That was the only instruction that I had to offer. She was forever sticking her tongue out when she was wrestling with some type of obstacle, whether animate or mental. I stepped back to watch. Pushing off, she started down the driveway. Wiggle, wiggle, and then with speed, the travel line began to straighten. I positioned myself at the end of the driveway so I could stop her before she rode into the main street. I was a slight incline going toward the street. There had been no need. Applying the kick back brake, the rear tire locked up and place another signature along with the other black I can do it skid streaks.

Snap, a grunt, and a twist and the aroma of pickles filled the kitchen. The cartoon war streaks were not there but I still got to see that smile and determination.

“I told you I could do it”.

“Yep, you did, along with forty eleven dozen thing along the way”

We finished with our song…

(All my girls and grandkids had their own little song that we sing. This one was a pee-wee cheerleader so we developed hers into sort of a “yell”. This will stay up only a short time because,, well, that is just the way I am,,) I start, she picks up, I cut in, she pick back up ‘til after the clap and then sometimes finish in unison.

With a cadence:

Cortney Wortney, she’s my honey,

She is cuter than the Easter Bunny.

And, Like Brear Rabbit, who love the thicket,,

I lubbbbb my Cortney, (clap and stomp) Now that’s The Ticket.


Now, you have heard about the "whole bunch"  and a few have asked about pic.  This will be up for a short time only, but now you know who my baby girls are and Yep, The Boss.. lol

"Net"

As an Old Country Codger, who is also a parent, you wonder sometimes what you might have taught your young’uns. Yesterday I didn’t wonder. I relaxed. Not for myself but my youngest Baby Girl. She received the news that she passed her BAR EXAM.


We hear a lot about “net” these days. I don’t mean the kind you catch something in but where one bunch is compared to another bunch and compare which bunch is the biggest. That difference is the “net” of something.

I have “net’ed” a lot more “taught” than I dispensed. My Middle Daughter called “The Boss” yesterday after she got the news from the younger, and asked “How does it feel to be the parents of a new lawyer”. I haven’t had that conversation with the Middle one yet but it gave me a lot of thinking opportunities. It feels like happiness and humongeous pride for the youngest one’s accomplishment. She worked herself to a frazzle during college and her internship with the State Department,, just like the Middle One did while she worked herself through school, internship with the Center for Disease Control, set up her own business, with two kids 3 and 2, Big Paw’s Baby Girl and Baby Boy( Big Paw’s baby boy being brought from Russia), and the Oldest worked herself through college, who now is in the midst of raising Big Paw’s Big Boy-9 years old, (who was born 3 months early and weighed 1 ½,, yep one and one half pounds at birth, three months in intensive care in the hospital) while she teaches school and helps her husband with their business. – all one sentence?,,I know.

Through all of their adventures, they supported each other as well. One looks out for the other and we all look out for each other. A tiny blog post cannot even touch what I could write, so I think it all come down to strength. Comparing “net” strength or “net” taught, with them and this old 6’2, 275 lb. Old Codger, look in the dictionary under “Short End of the Stick”, and you will see my picture.

Through it all “The Boss” molded and shaped when the situation needed “molding and shaping” and I take bragging rights kind of shyly – but I take them, so sue me. I got a great lawyer

Congratulations to my Baby Girl.

Has Anyone Signed Up?

Has anyone signed up for the NaNoWriMo thingy?  Did anyone participate last year?,,and how much time did you have to devote to it.. Seems like a survey don't it?

Writer's Litmus Test

This is one of the most “amazing” things, to me, and I have never seen it. Well, I see this picture just as you do and it is still amazing, but to see it “live” could only be a guess at its magnificence. I wonder sometimes that what we think we see is not what we are looking at.

Nope, this is not a travel post. It is a writing post. OK, I will try to unravel my direction here. I was sitting in Barnes and Noble (one of my favorite places) and while I was sitting in one of the three available reading chairs, thumbing through a “writing” book. I looked up and thought: “Look at all these books”. What must have been going through the minds of all these people? Somebody had to write each and every one of those books. I wonder how many authors had “hands on” experience with each topic written about in thousands, perhaps millions, of words on all the pages in that building.

One of my worries about writing is having the correct information and background. That you have to be an expert about everything you write. That it is the truth. Maybe not completely but at least be authentic and true to the history of the article. I don’t think I am alone in this thought or there wouldn’t be so many “how to“ reference books on the market. My true nature, I think, is to not just make shit up but sometimes I get enjoyment out of doing just that. I am a great fan of the old TV series Twilight Zone so I know how important it is that a person be careful to keep the distinction between fact and fantasy clear in their mind.

But would anyone want to hear all that? I don’t know. I do. Maybe. There are a lot of other rules. Another post yesterday alluded to maybe rules are just guidelines anyway. I like that and maybe fact from fiction is just a guideline too. I suppose the reader will eventually let you know, I guess everyday is a survey for response within its self. Everyone has their own aspirations whether it is writing or reading or ‘rithmetic and how they apply to society and an audience is varied as there are number of personalities.

I bought that book. During one of the segments, the author was listing a few guidelines or hints that would indicate the readers’ interest or aptitude for being a writer. One of the things he mentioned that a writer, as a youngster, as having the characteristics of a storyteller. I am not sure I am a storyteller so I changed the interpretation of what he was saying to someone, as a youngster, enjoyed to “play-like”. Did you ever use the phrase; I am going to “play-like” I am a pirate, or let’s play school and I will be the teacher. Some of you may have read a past post of mine, Oh Me,,No Wii , where Davy Crockett and I were great partners in adventure. Suddenly I remembered, I had been to the Grand Canyon, but it was in Nacogdoches county, close to a small community called Traywick. Which incidentally, is where Hank and Billy Ray (Pork Chops and Collard Greens) used to play ( refered to as Satersville ) when they were little boys at the pulp wood yard. Back to the Grand Canyon story. This was the REAL Grand Canyon. It had to be. It was a deep gully and had a small stream running down the middle of it, and I had a miner’s pan, which was actually the top of an old fashion coffee can, and I sifted through tons of ore panning out the golden nuggets that were going to make me rich and I would buy a horse, no,, a whole western town, and I would trade it all for a new Roy Rogers guitar with an authentic rope strap and real plastic guitar pick with a picture of Roy and Dale on it.

While at the bookstore, I looked and looked for a book on “Writer’s Litmus Test”. I didn’t find one so I made up one of my own. I took it twice to see what it would tell me. I passed so from that I decided: I am gonna be a writer…

Not really just “play-like”.

Newspapers,,Times are a'changin'

Newspapers convey to us words from around the blind corner: from places we can’t see or hear. News. I suppose that is where they got their name.


The evening newspaper. The end of an uneventful day. Time to read about events and people he didn’t experience while going about his daily activities. He didn’t see me seeing him as he sat down on the park bench. A folded newspaper clutched under his left arm. His right steadied a walking cane propped against the armrest of the bench.

Inside the folds of the cheap print paper tales of intrigue and current events waited patiently to spring forth and enlightened the gentleman. The evening sun added golden highlights to the silver mane that had been neatly combed even though time could be nearing for a barber’s tool. A brightly colored automobile stopped for the red light, one of those new “hybrids” he had heard and read about. Pedestrians waiting for the “walk” light to indicate “go” for the foot traffic. A countdown clock,,4,3,2,1, and tiny LED lights formed an outline of a walking man gave the signal to “walk”.

“My goodness, times have changed”, his words heard only by one of Shorty’s descendents. Shorty had been the park mascot, a small fox squirrel that had been adopted by the park visitors a few years earlier. A squirrel can be easily bought with a steady supply of peanuts.

“I wonder what the stock market did today”? The bank across the street once had a “ticker tape” billboard on the front façade, but now long gone. He rarely let a day go by that he had not charted the up and down graphs in his mind as he spoke to his broker by phone that actually had a coiled wire hooking the receiver to the body of the telephone. “Oh well, things worked out OK”. The stock market had been a minor hobby of his. The sales and marketing opportunities had allowed for his family to be sheltered in a modest home and all his sons and daughter had gone to and graduated from college. He made a mental note to check and see how they were getting along. Getting them through college was his major goal and worry as they grew to adulthood. He often worried that their opportunity would not be as fertile as when he got out of college.

“Shorty Junior, do you have lots of ‘hickornuts’ stashed away for the winter?, might be a long hard one.” Shorty junior didn’t to seem to care much as he reached and took the peanut from the silver haired gentleman. A sudden click and buzzing sound of a starting street lamp sent Shorty Junior scurrying into the hedge bushes. The wind stirred with a dry chillness as the smiling gentle spoke to no one . “Guess it is too late to read about the weather”. Remembering the newspaper under his arm brought another chuckle without an audience.

“Yep, times are a’changing, but I hope they don’t stop printing newspapers. I sure hope it don’t rain”. The unfolding rustle of the newspaper as he spread it to cover himself from the night dew, echoed against the bank’s brick wall.

Post "POST",, After the first two comments, I see that I have missed the mark on this one.  I suppose this might need further explaination.  lol.. There was a local news story about the downtown area making a fuss about the homeless in the park.  This was meant to be a different view in the fact that we never know what the history of these visitors is.  The "man" is ok with his situation because he has done what he had set out to do before this period in time.  I supposed I interjected my worry of getting my girls out of college into the story and it landed soundly out of place.  Both he and I are "fine" with the children situation. lol. You folks sure are great.. lol

When Ya Get Old..

When you get old your Saturday's are "different".  You have read the story about "The Boss" and me going to Greenville and then on to Denton where we lived when we first got "hitched".  Spur of the moment.  Well, we do movies that way too.  We have breakfast around lunch time, (This week it was at the EGG and I,,maybe I will get a complimentary ticket for that plug) and then we could think of no place to run off to so we decided on a movie.  Saturday tickets are at a discount.  Six dollars each.  That makes twelve dollars for entry fee, but I always outsmart "The Boss".  I drop her off at the ticket booth and go park the van.  See, that way she is tricked into buying the tickets.  I park and we enter the gate and she runs off to the "powder room" while I get refreshments.  They are a bargain at our movie house.  Two Icee's, a box of Milk Duds and a sack of popcorn only came to twenty two dollars and sixy three cents.  Good thing they were out of bottled water, it is only 5.25, but it is a pretty good sized bottle. I wonder who out-smatz who on this deal. reckon?

Anyhow, by not doing a lot of researech on the movie hunt, the movie we choose may not always be as entertaining as we had hoped.  This week we ventured into see RED.
"Retired and Extremely Dangerous".  I have posted a link so I won't go into all the characters that are involved, I will keep this short.

This was fun.  Pure and simple.  Not a whole lot of "cussing" and no neckedness, just fun.  The best I would describe it if I was down at the feed store would be that it is a cross between "Die Hard" ( It does have Bruce Willis in it ) and the "Pink Panther".  Neither of these movies were a big draw to me but the combination made me laugh a little.

If you don't like going to the movies, I doubt it will be too long before this thing is available on Netflix or DVD.  I am not much of a movie critic, but I am hard to please with plot and acting.  It doesn't much matter here, because the fun was laced through out, in my Old Codger opinion.

 http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1810143371/info

      click to view trailer

Could this be portrait of an "Old Codger"

Have you ever been walking or perhaps driving, and think, "What was that"?
Doing a "double" take (look) ? Watching a movie? Or, perhaps even reading a passage in a book and you have to go back a page and re-read.

Sometimes, things just ain't what they seem..reckon? :)

http://empathicperspectives.blogspot.com/2009/05/more-optical-illusions-to-test-your.html

Photo borrowed from above blogsite. Check it out.  Fun visit

What do you see, or see at first glance?  Then What did you see? Hummm...

I knowww It is a day Early,,,,,,

No story today. To borrow a phrase from SGT. Joe Friday, “just the facts Ma’um, just the facts”.


Exactly three month ago today, yep count ‘em, on July 21, 2010 an event fell toward my favor. I was a “non-Winner” in a contest. Usually when I have been a non-Winner, I have not fared quite so fortunate. Unless you fell off the turnip truck last night, you have moseyed on over a time or two to “Middle Passages”. I don’t know how I first stumbled into such luck, but if you haven’t visited this site, you need to.

    http://middlepassages-lcs.blogspot.com/ 

Don’t just go on my word, Go ahead Click on link and see for yourself.

I have two items to touch on, today. One is the prize that I won, “The Faith of a Writer”, by Joyce Carol Oates. You think you might have thought you have read all you need to know about writing, but this is information to supplement what genius you already have. (That was meant to be HaHa funnie). Page sixty three, second paragraph, first sentence is my favorite line.

The most important things I want to cover is my apology to Ms. Liza in that I haven’t thanked her publicly for this prize. My Daddy always said that “Egg on your face” ( for waiting so long to say “thank you” ) has no expiration date so Ms. Liza I thank you for bestowing this winning on me. The real prize is your daily posting.

Back to the book. To me, this was more of an inspirational book than textbook so I did not take “how to” notes for future reference. The book is in good condition, no major coffee stains and no pages missing.

Item number two: With Ms. Liza’s permission, I would like to offer this book to anyone who would like to read it. Just send me your address in comment, ( I will not publish, and I WILL delete for security reasons), and I will mail the book to you.

Thirdly, ( I know I only said I had two things to note ), but “ Thank You” to all you who drop by, even if you don’t say hello. The visits make for a more fun time.

you can still comment your "Where To" thoughts on previous post. publish comments sometime tomorrow..thanks

Where To?

Does anyone notice their own stride? Suddenly the feel of the sidewalk moving as steps became familiar to the thought process of walking. Same route, same surroundings, only different. Unseasonably cool and damp, not aligned to correspond with the calendar page. Not uncomfortable, but yet still a distance to the destination. Familiar but actually unnoticed on a normal routine, the sound of brakes interrupted the steady gait. Bus Stop. The once bright reflective lettering was now weather beaten by the tick tock of time and elements.

The swoosh of the opening doors allowed warm dry air to spill forward in a beckoning invitation. Aching knees stepped forward with little effort. The fluorescent glare enhanced the uplifting atmosphere as passengers danced in their intertwined conversations. The welcome sight of an empty seat ..

so what do you think is next?  You are invited to "comment" what happens next,,reckon?
I FORGOT TO MENTION, I AM WAITING FOR ALL COMMENTS AND POSTING AT ONE TIME..

Could It Have Been Me?

I like visiting places that I have never been before. This was right in line with an exercise from a new book that I picked up on “writing”. The point of the exercise was to go to a place, building, house, park, or anywhere that you had never been – someplace out of the ordinary for yourself, but not putting yourself in any real danger. Spend at least thirty minutes in this strange environment and make note either mentally or on a note pad. Use judgment in not drawing unwanted attention to yourself. This new knowledge would be new fodder for a future story.


Passing by on numerous occasions, I had never paid any great attention to the outer facade. Entering the main door, I was greeted by a uniformed gentleman.

“How are you today?”

Friendly enough it seemed. “I am doing ok, and you? My name is (you know what it is)

“Hello, they call me Webster.”

“I am doing a writing exercise for a class and part of the experiment calls for me to observe a place or situation that was new to me”. (Ok, “a class” can be just one person, can’t it?) “I should be finished within thirty minutes”.

“That’s fine. I will leave you at it then”.

I took a seat in one of the several nondescript vinyl upholstered stools. The room was brightly lit and with no windows. There could hardly be any differentiation between day and night. Eggshell colored walls enclosed the room towering upward three times the height of normal. The number of people was sparse. No conversation indicated that anyone was familiar with the other. A monotonous stare affixed to each as if they were unaware of the person in close proximity. Do they know or feel as if they are being held prisoner. Do they even have the will power to live and thrive outside these walls, or has the routine welded itself into their being so that what was once an individual is following the same motions as the gang. Minutes, for me, seemed like hours. How did they feel about time? A large clock fastened high on the south wall might as well not been there. No one seemed to check for the time of day. My upbeat mood was shot for the day. I didn’t like this place. How had I missed all this? Could I have just as easily been part of this bunch? Each one is a decent human being and I in no way draw a conclusion as to what is right or wrong. What would I do?

My sentence ended after what seemed much longer than thirty minutes. I had the option and ability to get up and walk out. I did.

“Thanks you Mister Webster. Time for me to be getting on down the road. I appreciate your hospitality.” He opened the door ahead of me and I couldn’t pass through quick enough.

“Come back anytime”. Mr. Webster’s grin had no indication of true intent.

“Sure thing”. I touched the visor of my cap.

The roar of my truck’s diesel engine eased a soothing effect over my fading anxiety. I was leaving. I wondered when their stay would be ending. The power steering belt gave a whining screech as I turned to leave the parking area and I glanced up at the stark sign marking the location. Casino

Well, what do YOU, think ? :)

"Outside of a dog, a book is a man's best friend;  inside of a dog, it is just too dark to read"!

Groucho Marx

pic credit http://s226.photobucket.com/home/sulisaeris

Redirect

“Shawn, what the hell is the matter with this computer?”


Total frustration had caused me to throw the styrofoam cup across my office. Fortunately, only a few drops of cold coffee splattered against the eggshell wall. The fifth refill was almost completely finished after a morning of “boot and re-boot”.

“Throw your coffee cup. That always seems to fix the problem.” His friendly sarcasm reverberated from the adjoining office. “I’m having to tinker with mine this morning too. I will give yours a look in a couple of minutes.”

Every time I would google “Granger Supply”, “Apartment Finder in Your City” would pop up. Backspace and start over and “Cheapest Airfares” would cover the screen. Each time the search would redirect to another site. A minor stumbling block each time would follow with the proper searched site. No big deal.

“I will be in there in a minute, my danged computer keeps redirecting my web search.”

“Virus”. My first thought was immediate. Where could I have picked this up? I haven’t been into any “neeckeed” picture sites..today. Ok, just “Norton” my files and things will be fine. An hour and a half later, same routine. Redirect. The usual check of any changes show nothing new being amended in any file anywhere. Restoring the computer to an earlier date brought no fix. After finally getting several searches to work properly, no articles were posted about a fix, although numerous people were reporting the same problems. One particular article was quite informative and I decided to go back and print it to see if I could find any clues. It would not “search” this title a second time. I eventually gave up that search and tried a generic search again. Redirect, redirect, redirect.

“Shawn”!

“You’re on your own, dude. My computer keeps redirecting me when I do a search”. No sarcasm this time, only frustration was in his voice.

“That’s all right. I am going to post about what my computer is doing on my blog and see if anyone else is having this problem”.

……………………..

Under normal circumstances, no one would notice the empty store front with the “For Lease” sign propped up in the front window. The blinds were drawn and the building lay between a Payless shoe store and an ancient Baskin Robbins ice cream parlor. There was no sign out front designating what the prior business had been. The city of Newark had almost forgotten about this once family oriented neighborhood. The twin black Yukons, parked out front, should seem out of place, but no one noticed. The three banks of computer servers, neatly arranged in the back store room, were completely out of sight.

“It still has a few bugs in it, but the initial setup is working toward what we had hoped. It is well hidden and doesn’t cause enough problems that people will expend a lot of effort trying to find the cause and hunt for a correction to the aggravation.”

“But, does it proceed with the intent of allowing the use of individual computers to be manipulated”?

“Oh, absolutely. All that is needed is the Czar Committee to put pressure on the major browser companies and they will understand that we actually control them, just as the Chinese did with Google. It will be just a matter of changing a few commands in the root program. Any information distribution the Information Czar Committee wants to put forth or “redirect” will be simplified. The individual will be limited on exchanging their own ideas and thoughts. Any use of the internet can be rerouted through a tracking program. The Tax Czar Committee has been searching for a consistent method to tax usage of the internet. This is a sure fix. The possibilities are only limited by the various Czar Committee’s imagination“.

“I am seeing an indication of an incoming inquiry. It looks like some sort of a trace exercise. I need to see where the signal is coming from”.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“Shawn, have you figured this thing out yet”?

“Not yet”.

“ I’m trying to run down any incoming changes that have been automatically downloaded to my laptop”.

“Ok, fine, but pick up line one. I think it is one of your redneck buddies. He said he’s from the Homeland Security Czar Committee. You need to find some new friends”.

“Ok, tell him I will be right there as soon as I finis

Boop De Do De - DA DA

.
.
“Know where the FedEx place is?” The Boss asked off handedly.

“There are fifteen in town, which one?” (Actually about 3, maybe 4)

“Well, I need to pick up something. They tried to deliver it and we weren’t home.”

“What wuz it?”

“Somethin’.”

Two things here. (I have learned to read between a few lines over the last fortyumpteen years.) Well kinda one, with a couple of subplots. It was something that we didn’t really need or it was a surprise for me, which I probably didn’t need because I have about everything I need already.

“Why can’t we wait ‘till tomorrow?”

“Cause, I said.”

“Well then, I guess that settles it.” It is usually settled before I get to put in my suggestions anyhow. Reckon?

A couple of clicks on The Boss’s I-Phone and we had the correct location in the crosshairs. Only waiting an unreasonable period of time, we were handed a cardboard box with a label that had more inscription than the Magna Carta, but we were off. One step outside the door the boss handed me the box.

“Here, happy birthday.”

“It ain’t my birthday yet.”

“If you don’t take this, you may not make it.”

I gingerly took the box and saw the word Apple on the label in various places. I will have to admit, I sorta, kinda figured out what was in the box. I was, for real, excited. I opened the box and inside was a special edition, candy apple red I-Pod with my name inscribed on the back. I was, for real, excited. I know I said that already. I am really hard to buy for, according to my girls and The Boss, but this hit the target. I wore out a Zune so this was a great surprise. I don’t download a lot of songs, but I am a big fan of podcasts and especially old radio shows. Mysteries and Orson Wells classics are great to listen to. I have found that by listening to these old programs, it can generate ideas for writing and scene setting. Some are pretty “hooky pooky”, but fun just the same. There are several websites that offer these to download for free or a donation of some amount.

Another new adventure came in the form of a credit card looking piece of plastic. It was what ya’ll already know about as an I-Tune card. I actually learned how to “redeem” its value and trade it for real music. Now ain’t that somethin’? I am still a traditionalist and I like to have the CD or album on hand, but this does seem pretty easy. During my first year of school we had what we called and “assembly program”. The student body had the opportunity to watch a movie in the auditorium. The movie starred Jimmy Stewart in “The Glenn Miller Story”. Even today if it comes on TV I am glued to watching it again.

One day last week I was wrestling with a bunch of junk at the office and I took a break and ordered some Glenn Miller tunes with that I-tune bunch of folks. Now that is “slicker that greased owl…”, well never mind, but it was easy. In a matter of not time, I was tapping my foot and in a much better mood. Those songs never get old to me. You might not have the tune handy so I went out on the YouTube and found this old clip from the real Glenn Miller and if you have a few minutes give it a listen. I bet you can help yourself from tapping your foot and singing along.

Boop De Doo De Daa Daa
.
. 

Texas Tea,, or Yummm

As a writing exercise, i have expanded on the "One Minute Writer" blog's idea. (please visit that site).  Look close at hand and pick an object and use a 7 minute span to write a short essay.  The few extra minutes, to me, seems to help relax the experiment.  It was hot and I stopped in at Star Bucks, and,,,,,,


Texas humidity and ice cold tea: Quite a recipe. Unsweetened, to me, is preferred. I suppose I am a traditionalist in a sense. I don’t think most things need a lot of “phizzazz” added in order for their true nature to be appreciated.


A classic smooth crystal glass holding just the right of amount of pure, clean perfectly formed ice cubes; hidden from the heat, but condensing vapors, a hint of treasure. Golden chestnut color liquid cascading down over the dancing heat diffusers, creates a minute stirring of the ingredients. Light rays expose tiny ripples of current, changes in the mixed ingredients slowly realigning their positions. Tiny molecules of moisture attach themselves to the outer layer of the shimmering crystal container and as if holding hands grab each other, growing into larger droplets of atmospheric droplets. Weight finally pulls them into miniature streams of sweat devouring the shell of the mixture’s universe. Only at the right moment can the experience of the mixture be realized. Small sips, each being wholly appreciated and then, only then, can the enjoyment be shared.

The amazing thing about iced tea is that a true tea drinker never tires of the experience. He always looks forward to the next “refreshing”, visualizing in his imagination, the previous wonderment of quenching and awaiting his next thirst.

In A Bit....

There is nothing like the glowing warmth of a campfire. Snapping and popping, the oak logs piled high with the yellow and orange flames squirting upward through the tightly stacked cracks from the bark still on the wooden fuel.


Too large to be intended for the fire, cut sections of trees    served as resting stools for more than one annual trip to the familiar river bottom. Without confirmation, each has in intended occupant. Time has a way of etching routine without formality. The unceremonious act of who takes their place in cadence is stamped in time.

It seems one always has “one more thing” to sort out and put in its place. The last to take his place in line. The last to turn out the lantern. Beyond the reach of the campfires shine clattering of assorted gear indicates the restlessness. All, except this one, have gathered at their appointed places amongst the bark covered thrones.

“What are you doing out there? You gonna come on or what? We ain’t gonna wait all night.”

The strings are tuned and the whistles are wet. We wait momentarily.

“Well, are ya coming?”

From the darkness and damp, with clarity comes a chuckle and reply.

“In a bit, perhaps, you old codger, In a bit.”

The usual banter and ribbing of “always late” and “it’s gonna be daylight soon" offers a familiarity to the situation. We know we are going to have to wait. A round with flask and a dirge of song pushes the hour past.

The shifting of logs and flicker of flame, upward the embers struggle to rise. The glow still strong but not quite as bright, the warmth still surrounds us all. The sweetgum stump, awaits in quiet with sounds from just beyond. It seems the clatter is not intense as it was some time earlier.

“The music is old and bellies are full, if you’re coming on, then ya gonna have to do it soon. Not sure of the duration with this routine of fun.”

A chorus of laughter votes in favor of wit, but certainty not at all certain. Waiting for a reply I sit suddenly quiet as I listen for anticipated answer.

“In a bit, perhaps, when I finish. In a bit.”

The campfire out, the reminding ashes, what’s left of the mighty oak, a reminder that dawn is near. The river fog cloaks the forest near and water still between the banks flows. The cold ashes swirl about and, with a grin, I answer the wind’s invitation ; “are you coming”.

“In a bit, perhaps, you old codger, In a bit.”

..

"Todlums" aka Carlus Wayne Morgan

If any of you read the "Boat Fishing Story"...... you know "Todlums"

When I first started blogging, I wrote this for "Sixty second Writer", but never put it on my blog. Well, here it is.....

The prompt "Trust"

Reminiscing is a common past time when the beard turns gray and “The Bark of The Dogwoods” becomes brittle and shallow. Old men sometimes tire of playing checkers and other highly active games and they resort to other less strenuous exercises such as games of “Remember When”.

“ Bet I got something of yore’n that you have forgotten about”.

Smoke curled from his freshly lit corncob pipe. It was bobbing up and down. He kinda looked like Popeye except he didn’t have the massive ham hock forearms. I swiveled around on my stool and looked around the barn trying to see what might be out of place or missing. Hell, who could tell anyways? It had been longer than yesterday since I had straightened up the sundry of tools that I had collected over the past forty some odd years.

“Hell, I don’t know”. “You better not drag this out too long, we both are on borrowed time and best I remember you’re older than me”

Somehow we both thought that was funny. Hearty laughter just seems to make the joints move a little smoother.

“Need any money”? The growl sounded more like a a directive than a question.

“Nope, still got some beer in the fridge”

He slowly fished around in the back pocket of his old overalls and fished out his old weather worn wallet. He had his head all crook-ed and sideways. His eyes all squenced shut from the over abundance of smoke. He finally fumbled around until he pulled out of stack of folded receipts and other junk. He shuffled them around until he pulled out a folded piece of currency.

“Yonta take a peek at that”? Still another directive.

I unfolded the wrinkled bill and recognized it to be a two dollar bill. Instantly my smile could no longer be suppressed. I guess the smoke was in my eyes too.

“I don’t need it yet”, I replied as I gently handed it back to him.

“Didja thank that I had lost it”?

“Nope”

“Well that day while we were out at the old Sinclair plant a dranking hot beer, you handed me that two dollar bill and told me to hold onto it ‘till you might need it so if you don’t need it, I figure you trust me to hold onto it ‘till you do”
.
Today nineteen sixty seven doesn’t seem like such a long time ago.I spit on the ground and finally spoke again,

“ Give me another beer and put that danged ole pipe out, that smoke is making my eyes water".

July 24, 1949 - August 9, 2010

June 6, 2009 2:05 PM

Value?

“Reckon it will stop, Boy”? With a grin, The Daddy parked the 1949 Cheverolet pickup in front of the Hale Motor Company. Only one wheel had any brakes left on it.

Earlier in the day, the blue ‘59 Apache pickup had been sitting in front of the show room. He had never bought a new pickup and this one was not new either, but as close as he would ever come to buying one. He was not impressed by things. The young boy, at this moment, was. He knew the magnitude of the event. It was more a symbol of hard work and loyalty than prestige. Something that did not come easy. Either one of them. The Daddy with pride took the keys without fanfare. The young boy of twelve would eventually take his driving test in that pick up.

Going down the interstate using his watch and mile markers , the young boy, now a daddy, kept a 60 mile per hour pace on the way to their new home in another state. Seven years later the return routine. The Daddy did grin when the blue truck returned to its home state.

“Well, I will give you five hundred dollars under what you are asking.”

“Man, I am sorry you ruint your whole day by driving down here, but I will pull it out in front of the house and make a flower bed out of it before I will do that.” The older “young” boy turned to walk away. .

“No, no, your son in law told my you “lible” just walk off and leave me standing here. It’s a deal,, your deal. How will I get it on my trailer? I will come back Wednesday to get it” .

“Put a battery on it. Crake the sum’bitch up and drive it up on the trailer”. The older “young” boy grinned and then he did turn and walk away. “Only reason you’re getting it, ‘cause I know you will treat it right. Maybe you will get another 40 years out of it.”

IF NOT the WHOLE movie, Please, At Least the TRAILER

I rented this movie the other day. If you only watch one movie this year. This should be it. I thought I had better come back and put a disclaimer here:

This movie is VERY GRAPHIC

Truthfully I am a little sick to my stomach just thinking about this.

Click here to Go directly to YOUTUBE for trailer and other videos:
http:// www.youtube.com/watch?v=uWbdn5YfMJs

Is THIS Happening to Anyone Else?

Is anyone else have trouble "Posing" a new post on your blogsite?  This one worked, but another site I have all I get is the "calculating" flower going round and round...
  Any help....

"I Do Hereby Proclaim, I have found It"

He was “all wet” all right, but not in the Fountain of Youth discovery. Juan Ponce de Leon hop-scotched over from Puerto Rico and has been given credit for discovering what he thought or hoped was the fountain of youth at St. Augustine, Florida in the 16th century. It ain’t so. Or at least in my opinion.

The fountain of Youth is in Luckenbach, Texas. No one probably noticed but I have been absent a day or two. I took a couple of days off from the office while The Boss and I took a short vacation to Fredricksburg, Texas. Six million, eight thousand, three hundred and six , (that is where I stopped counting), motorcycles decided to do the same thing. On Saturday, on our way back home, we “cut through” to stop in on Luckenbach, Texas. The motor cycle riders decided to do that too. Most of you know I am a frustrated wanna be git-tar picker and If you had a radio and only listened to one country song, around ’78-’80,you have heard , “Let’s go to Luckenback, Texas, with Willie Waylon and the Boys”. Sooo, that is what I did.

Everyone must have thought this was the fountain of youth because most of us there had more wrinkles in ourselves than our jeans. After sass-shaying around the grounds and in and out of the “fountain” part of the party, I did feel a little better. See there? I told you. It was hot so I go me another bottle of youth and plopped down in an empty chair and just stared at all the people. Everyone seemed to feel younger than their gray hair indicated. I did. How come that is, reckon?

It was just like Ole’ Ponce. He felt better when he splashed off in what he thought was the fountain of youth just because he “thought” he felt better. Me too, ‘cept I didn’t splash off in anything, I just had a good time reminissin’. I know I felt better than that dude that was walking so bow-legged that his steps were wider than they were long. He had had a long trail ride and the last half of that ride was coming up. All I had to look forward to was air conditioning, cruise control and power steering. Besides, we only had about twenty miles until we got to the next bed and breakfast at which we were going to stay.

I was gonna write a real “sturring” response on the effects of this fountain of youth but I think ya’ll would have a good time doing a little research on your own. There is quite a bit on this part of Texas even though there ain’t much to the place itself. It is all in one’s mind and you will see what I am talking about….maybe. I will post a couple of clicking links ( go ahead and “Google “ – Hondo Crouch )and If I can figure out how to get ‘em in the right places, I will post some pics.



http://www.luckenbachtexas.com/ 

http://www.lone-star.net/mall/literature/hondo.htm

http://good-times.webshots.com/photo/2635408420099034237ZVALZX

These high pixel pics take forty forevers to upload, so I will post more pics later.  One more thought.  I was telling my oldest daughter about Luckenbach and she finally asked,,"You mean, they don't even have a Walmart"?  I 'bout fell out of my chair I stopped my story right there.  :)

It is Prononced "Tatersaaalliiiiiiiiddd"

We’re dropping like flies. Us “Bloggers” that’s who. Me too, but I am going to try to hang in there.

It has been awhile since I posted. A lot of things have been going on around the Ole Casa. Everyone has had a lot to do. Me too, but I sometimes don’t really know if you all enjoy reading what I slap up on the screen or you are just real nice people, about it. I think maybe it could be a little of both. Reckon? What I do know is, I enjoy reading what you folks write. I think what it is, is “Battling Fatigue”. Not battle fatigue, but , well you get the kinda play on words. I could go on about it but I think for me to fight my “battle” of fatigue is to tell you about this barbeque place, "Ribmasters" in this small community that The Boss and I go to quite regularly.

The Boss’s favorite is a plain chopped beef sandwich with lots of barbeque sauce on it. In Texas, beef is pretty much the king of B-B-Q. Pork is the favorite in other parts of the south but Texas has always had an abundance of cows ready to be a participant in this age old range cuisine. Brisket is a part of the cow that if not cooked properly is rather tough to eat, but with slow consistent temperature, it can be mouth watering tender. If any of you read the story about The Boss and me going to Denton and Greenville, well during that time of early life experiences, I worked at a Barbeque place in Denton. It was a bad thing. Oh, no, Not the Barbeque, but the fact that I went from 220 pounds to 275 in short order.

Pork ribs is another specialty that is different than some parts of the south. Beef ribs are popular in other parts and we cook them fairly regular here too but pork ribs reign king as far as I am concerned. They can be found either with the “dry rub” or “glazed”. Dry rub is with a mixture of seasoning rubbed on the slab of ribs before cooking and that is all you do to them. To glaze the slab, seasoning can or cannot be rubbed before cooking, but just before they are “done”, a sauce is put on the ribs and the fire “glazes” them to a tacky consistency. The sauce is often times a sweet and tangy sauce with a little bit of a “fire-ie” punch to it. I guess that is where the term, “season to taste” comes from.

Potato salad is a staple side dish, but a lot of people around here might look at you sideways if you order it that way. “Tatersaaaaaliiid” is the preferred pronunciation in these parts. I ain’t much on tatersallid. It use-lee has un-yunns in it. But, this place also has baked potatoes. I have my own recipe with that. Instead of me going all through the proper grammar and mixin’ procedures, I have posted a picture of a real “Texas BBQ Tater”. It ought to be a secret, but I will share it with you just this one time.

  Wouldn’t ya like to have a bite of this? Yummm

Take a "Look-See"

Ms. Keli at "Septembermom" site has another site that I have mentioned in the past.  Click on the Post Title to go to her site "My Voice, My View".

Write With Pictures 
Click here:  http://writewithpictures.blogspot.com/

There is a daily prompt and it is fun to play for a few minutes.  The more people at the party, the more fun there is.  Jump over and "crash" that party and see how much fun you can have.  This is lead in for my "bragging" about Ms. Keli being nice and picking one of my entries.  I am going to visit often.. How about you.

Prompt: Wednesday Ten ,,

Ten Words Only to "Think" the Picture

Photo by Rebecca http://www.blogger.com/profile/16135537886717771317 

"The present reflected by the unseen depths of the past."

..

Why ??

,
Why? Ever ask yourself that question? I didn’t think so. Me neither. Well, maybe sometime. Today, for instance. Why am I attracted to old movie theatres? I don’t know. I don’t care much if I don’t know exactly why. I think it has to do with “grinning”. No, I don’t prefer comedies or goofy story lines in movies. I am a serious individual.

The Boss and I were eating breakfast at one of our many favorite places we frequent on Saturday mornings. “Frequent” is the right word, trust me. She was sitting there patting her foot waiting for me to finish my cup of coffee. She doesn’t drink coffee.

“Know what?”

“What?”, slurp

"I have been thinking, I wonder what the house Grandmother used to live in looks like?”

Slurp. “Humph.”

“I have thought about it a several times.”

"Ok, Let’s go then.” Coffee cup empty. I had worn out my excuses.

“It’s in Greenville.”

.“I ain’t that senile yet.” I slide my coffee cup to the side.

“And then we could ride on over to Denton and look at the house we moved into when we got married. That is only a little over an hour more”

.

“Did you take your pills this morning?”

.

“Yes, but I need my sunglasses.”

.

At 11:30 am we are leaving the house for the second time that morning. Sunglasses, books, Kindle and cameras. Off to Grandmother’s house we go.
.
In a couple of hours we were driving up and down the remembered street counting the lots of the once sidewalk edged street. Well, things aren’t as big, long, or shinny as we remember growing up. The street was broken and cracked. Weeds lined both sides of the once manicured street.

.“Ok, it is in the next block, slow down.”

I would have never guessed to do that. I coasted to an almost slow crawl.

“We missed it. You have got to turn around.”

I would have never guessed to do that. I turned around right in the middle of the next intersection. There was no traffic. I had to be careful of the Dodge pickup that looked abandoned.

“Ok, don’t go so fast, you will pass it again.”

Do you think I would have ever guessed to do that?

.“It’s gone.”

It was gone. The pier foundation posts were still there.

“What happen to it?"

.

“I don’t know. I guess somebody took it.” I was amused at my wit.

The Boss’s expression revealed to me that not only was I not amusing, but there was more to it than that.

We expect things to stay as we remembered them. Time has passed since I started this story. Time had devoured that small part of her world. I did not feel witty anymore. I made another turnaround and drove back down the street. It was still discouraging.

“Well, let’s go on to Denton and we will have a good time there.” Putting an optimistic spin on the situation, I felt, seemed like a good idea.

“Ok.” Looking out the window, she was searching one last time. I could not see her face.

As we drove out of that neighborhood, I think maybe that street still had its sidewalks bordered with neatly trimmed grass and flowers dotting the adjacent yards. I am pretty sure The Boss saw it

.
* * * * * * * *

Denton, Texas 1970, avenue B. flash to 2010.

“Turn left here.”

.

I don’t think I would have thought of that. How did I ever make it this far, reckon?

.

“The street used to be crushed rock. Remember trying to ride that old bicycle that you painted florescent green on all that gravel. This is much better. I am glad to see good changes for a while.”

.

I slowed to a crawl, I don’t have to be told three times.

.

“It should be right there. But,,It is gone. There are apartments there now.”

.

I backed the van up. There was no Dodge pickup in the way on the street. “Are you sure it wasn’t the last one, there?”

.

“No, it was next to the last one on the street. It’ gone.”

.

“The E-Z Mart is still back there. We passed it awhile ago. Let’s go get some M&Ms and a Dr Pepper. Remember? We used to do that every time I got paid.” I didn’t want her looking out the window like back in Greenville. I almost felt a little frantic.

.

“Ok, but It’s gone.” Something must have been outside the window.

.

“Let’s ride around the square. I want to take some shots of the old movie theaters. I have been taking pictures in every town I travel to when calling on customers. Those M&Ms are pretty good aren’t they?”

.

Crunch, Crunch, Crunch.

.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

.

In 1971, John Wayne as “Big Jake” came to the silver screen at the Campus Theatre on west Hickory Avenue. We were there. The theatre was still there. I got out of the van and walked up to the front door. The Boss stayed with the air conditioning and her Kindle. I could see someone moving around through the round windows of the lobby doors leading into the main auditorium. I figured that if I messed around looking through the front door long enough he would get curious and ask what the heck I wanted.

I jumped a mile. A nicely dressed young woman came from behind me. “Could I help you?”

“Ah, yes ma’um,,ah my name is (you know what it is), and my wife and I moved to Denton in 1970 and we came to this theater all the time.” I sort of was talking off the cuff.”And I am a famous writer and I got this blog site, and all my friends would just love to hear about how,, this and that.” I could see it in her face. She finally smiled.

“Would you like to peek inside?”

.

“Oh, yes ma’um, that would be wonderful, and if you don’t mind, would it be ok to take a few pictures of the inside, if I can’t, well, I understand and all that.” Envision a “hang-dog” look right here.

A light chuckle. “Sur’uh, but I am running behind and we have a play performance tonight so I have GOT to get some paper work finished. Just take all you want.”

“Yes Ma’um, I will only take a few so I will only be a minute.”

Dirty Rotten Scoundrels played that Saturday night. I did not go to the show, but, you know what? I am going to one in the future. I might go to two of them. The building was refurbished to its original state.

The carpet was manufactured in the original weave and color pattern. The seats were upgraded. professional stage lighting was installed and it looked like the stage area may have been enlarged. Some things I miss. I am a talker not a reporter, but I wanted to share with you why I like old theatres, both renovated and dilapidated. I am attracted to all of them. Why? Well that is how we started today and after studying about it. I think it is because they hold a treasure of universal memories for everyone that has ever had the opportunity to go to one of the single screen, pop corn cooking, shoe sole sticking movie houses. They can fall in on themselves but the mystic is never “gone”. Try to look at one, if you are old enough to remember them, and try to keep that grin off your face.

Larry McMurtry, I hope you are wrong. I hope there will never be “The Last Picture Show”

.

If you want to drop by "The Campus" website just click on the highlight

Say "hello" to Ms. Julie

http://www.dentoncommunitytheatre.com/

**sorry about the spacing and layout, after 1.5 hours of everything jumping around, I gave up. Try you best to read it.. lol

.

Where Ya'll Been?

While taking a minute to check in on all you folks after being kind of "absent", I saw this post over at Ron Paul's "Where Sky Meet Ground.." blog.

http://skymeetsground.blogspot.com/2010/05/true-colors.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+WhereSkyMeetsGround+%28Where+Sky+Meets+Ground%29

I am not going to preface this with a "not gonna be a political post", but it ain't, but if we don't think about what Ron and all the other men and women who protect us and our families from danger, then , hell I can't help it. Please visit his site and if I have inadvertently offended anyone..

ookkkayyy,, i will do better next time,,

Repost for My Niece

Actually this was a combination of one or more happenings, but it was to fit a "prompt" on a writing blog,,and a repost...I don't think my niece (this is her mom,,lol ) has read this and she asked if I had written any stories lately..


"Street, where I grew up"


I love the street where I grew up. Now that might be an overstatement, but I do definitely hold a lot of fondness for the unnamed oil top road that lead out to the main highway.

Well, I guess it had a name but it was always called “First street to the left after you pass Ross’s Affiliated Food Store”, Our house sat almost directly across the street from Grannie and Paw’s house. Both houses are gone now. At least from there. Grannie and Paw’s house now sits in a pasture ten miles toward town. Back to where they moved it from in the first or was it the second place. Anyhow, Daddy’s house was moved thirty miles south to sit next door to one of my sister’s house (the one in this story,,no, sister not the house, well the house too,,just read on). Everyone should rest easy because the street is still there. I saw it just this last Sunday.

I rode over that way intentionally to take a picture for a story that I wrote. I took the picture but decided to not use it for that story, so I will use it for this story. I jump around, a lot, kind of like Grannie and Paw’s house.

Me and my younger sister, (she is still older than me), we stayed into stuff all the time. You remember me telling you about the main highway. Well, we couldn’t ride our J.C. Higgins, Sears Roebuck, store bought bicycles on the main highway, but that was where the filling station was that sold snow cones,- if he ever had ice. There ain’t no need to fill you in on the deciding part of whether or whethern’t we were going. I guess you can say the first leg of the trip was uneventful.

The old codger had a way of intimidating us kids when we ordered our snow cones If you asked for extra syrup, he would stop pouring right then and say, “hee’uh, that’s enough”, and if you didn’t say anything, he liable to just stop anyhow. I can’t remember what she got but I got the coconut. Bright blue. Syrup and ice running down my chin and forearm. Dripping off my elbow onto the sizzling hot oil dirt in front of the old filling station.

Have you ever tried to ride a bicycle while holding onto and eating a snow cone? A bright blue, coconut snow cone? Well she was better at it than I was. I was able to catch up to her at the hill right before you had to turn left, just past Ross’s Affiliated Food Store. It was always a known fact that to get back to, or get to anywhere on a bicycle, there is a race. I had a plan. I was not going to be outsmarted or out bicycled.

I kept a piece of a cane pole stuck behind and through my seat. This was to protect me from dogs. I steadied my left hand, holding half of the bright blue coconut snow cone, on the left handlebar. With my right hand, I reached back and snatched my dog stick from its perch. With one quick motion I won the bicycle battle, but lost the bicycle war. In my mind, it would just slow her down enough so that I could zoom on ahead and have bragging rights to arriving home first. It DID slow her down. My aim was perfect. The cane pole slide between the two spokes just about where the valve stem was. The wheel came around and the cane pole locked against the front wheel support fork.

Here it gets a little fuzzy. From later examination, the fork proved a lot stronger than the spokes. The fork held. Half the spokes didn’t. They vanished. Ass over tea kettle just don’t quiet describe the following event. Luckily the grass at the edge of the street was pretty tall. The dust had not even settled when she jumped up. She was wearing her snow cone mixed with a sundry of other green vegetation. How I held onto that Blue coconut snow cone I can’t even begin to guess, but she gingerly took it from my left hand and soon I was wearing THAT blue snow cone. We didn’t even try to make up a story to tell when we got home. It was our butts! – AAA-ginnn..

Epilogue: This episode was minor. Someday I will tell you about how I had to let her shoot me in the butt with my own BB gun.