It Snowed today in Texas, but THAT has nothing to do with the Picture.....

"Hank, what the hell is all that?"  Billy Ray's face could not hide the distrust and uneasiness that he was feeling.

I Challenge YOU !

I like to talk. I wish I were a story teller, but don‘t consider myself to be such. I do talk a lot while being a quiet, reserved person. Does any of that make any sense? I guess that why the “shrink” business is so good. I have never been to a “shrink”. I think The Boss thinks that might be a mistake.


Here in lies the meat of this post. I have a CALLENGE for you nice folks out there. Everyone of you. It is easy and within the grasp of each individual. I will explain the challenge at the END of this post.

I have stressed on many occasions, “I am the most fortunate person I know.” One of those fortunes is that I am lucky to still be acquainted with quite a few of lifelong friends. I am talking about from second grade, in school, forward. Kids have been born. A number have been added along the way and these “new comers” are most often subjected to the reenacted episodes that we “old timers” have experienced along the way.

Every March, for the past ten years or so, a small group of us go to a cabin on a river in the piney woods of Texas for a weekend. Several years ago, out of the blue, one of the cast of characters presented a “Letter” that was given to him by a patient of his. It had to do with the location of our campsite. There is an old railroad trestle that crosses the river about a hundred yards downriver from our camp site. All of us had know him since childhood. One of my running buddies has two boy and they have been coming along every year. They were spooked as youngster and still are wary today. We were all amazed at the “letter’. I will post at a later date.

This past year, it was my turn. I remember a tale that my Daddy had told at this very spot many years earlier concerning a Dumb Bull. The early Dumb Bulls were made with an old wooden nail keg or a hollow log. A rawhide was stretched over one end and a string or piece of leather was threaded through it. Pinching the string in your finger and pulling it through the fist will make an awful amplified sound. It has been said that Ben Jameson’s cows broke out the lot when his brother in law set one off down the in the river bottom. I built a modern day dumb bull with a metal bucket. The banjo picker buddy furnished me with the banjo hide for the head of the dumb bull.

The scene needed to be properly set. I went to Barnes and Noble, my favorite store, and bought a leather bound writing journal. I conjured up a story based loosely on a legend of “The Black Panther” that roams the woods throughout the river bottom. I hand wrote into the journal or I would repost, but I have the one that I wrote in my Grandson’s book. I will try to post it later also. After a supper feast of fried catfish, fried taters, red beans and rice, sausage and light bread, followed with a few swallers of partaking liquid., we all settled around the campfire.

I started in telling about the traveling peddler that made his yearly rounds through Bug Skuffle, a crossroads community, then on through “Dog Neck”, an agrarian community before coming into the railroad town of Sacul, which was named after Mr. Lucas. (That’s Lucas spelled backwards ). The peddler sold a chamber pot to Old Man Jamerson. Well when he got it home his wife discovered that it was defective. She made the old man take off to get his money back from the peddler. I hate Reader’s Digest versions, but there ain’t no way around it. Old man Jameson found the peddler’s wagon in the river but all he found of the peddler was his skull with staring eyeballs lodged in the forks of a sweetgum tree where “The Black Panther” had been interrupted from his supper. He could not see the panther but he could hear the squalling screeches. The End - of the fireside chat.

It took me a pretty good while to read the whole thing. I embellished it much more than the version that you just got. The banjo picker played a background dirge all the while. I haven’t mentioned it but that banjo picker is the most liberal person I have ever run across. More than ,,,well anyhow,, but, I have written a law that we can’t talk politics or religion down on the river. We will never agree on politics, and we all probably gonna get that camp out together in that hot spot anyway ,,,, sooo the point is, it was then and there I decided that I would start a blog and here we are. If I have any readers left, that is.

One of the side effects of riverside partaking of the firewater is that you have to “check on the dogs” sometimes during the night.

Everyone finally settled in for the night. The banjo pickers two boys, 20 and 22, along with his son-in-law took the tent. The picker and I took the cabin. The night was absolutely picture book perfect. The air was cool and the fog was lifting up from the warm water of the river. The moon was about three quarters full and after your eyes adjusted, you could see throughout the river bottom with ease. A full chorus of life was singing, echoing off the water and trees. I thought that I could actually hear a water snake swimming its zig zag path toward the far river bank.

The moon had winched its way toward far side of the river and was peeking through the tiny first buds of spring from the elm trees. It was three AM and the dogs needed to be checked on. The crisp night air cut sharply through my cotton jogging pants. Socked feet made little sound stepping onto the wooden porch, but the creaking of pulling gravity emitted tiny squeeking grunts from the aging boards as I was careful to step lightly, not to make excessive noise. I had used my fiddle rosin to double coat the leather string that was the vocal cord of my new Dumb Bull. Never, do I believe, that I had witness such peacefulness.

“Ahhhhhh, ain’t this great?” I then took holt of the leather string and pinched.

EEEEEEEAAAAAOOOOOOOOOOAAGGGGGGGGGG!!!!! The high frequencies mellowed and finished into a deep roaring bass as my grip reached the tip of the leather cord.

EEEEEEAAAOOOAAAGGGGG!!! A faster zip changed the vocal tone to a more frenzied yelp.

Frogs, crickets and all river creatures went nuts. The echoes bouncing off the trees finally reached the old trestle and disappeared around the river bend just as the second volley escaped from the throat of the monster.

“Son of a Bitch!” The tent came to life. “What the…?” “What’s that racket?”

Search lights erupted sending illuminated circles dancing a jig across the fabric of the bright orange tent.

“Bert, what the hell is that?” The picker grinning in the moonlight

“Danged if I know!” pinching the cord and giving a pull.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAWWWWOOOOOOOOOWWWWW,, ENENENNNNNAAAAOOOWWWWW,, - two pulls in a row

“Shoot that thang”, me looking at the picker with a grin and a nod

“Where ‘bouts?”

“It don’t matter, just shoot out there everywhere.”

Blam, Bang, Blam-Blam

The tent had turned into a vegamatic on steriods. Good thing I had already checked on the dogs. Tent flap zippers were a zinging, flash lights a’flashing. It looked like searchlights at a Kung Fu world premier opening. Easing back inside the cabin, I slid my new friend under my cot and covered it with a spare blanket.

“What the hell was that?” was asked more times than I could count.
The picker and I did our durnest to keep our sober and concerned face so as to mask our hysteria.

“The Panther”, one of the boys finally said softly. A nervous chucked as he spoke didn’t totally convince himself or the others that he was just kidding.

Me nor the picker ever divulged the true secret and they may have figured it out. I am sure they have decided on some logical answer, but I would bet the farm that if any of you, as strangers, asked them, they would definitely remember it vividly and each differently.

MY CHALLEMGE to you: Take time to make a special effort to “talk” to someone. Tell a story. Write it down. I challenged everyone at the camp to add a story to the journal. Everyone was giddy with excitement at the thought and opportunity. The picker has it now. I am going to call his liberal ass and push him to get it done. I read a lot and I read a lot before I knew about blogging and I can tell you this,,I have read better stuff from you folks than what I have paid money for. Any questions?

Is It Lost, or just Misplaced?

For awhile, at least the seventh grade, science was my favorite subject. Well, at least the gadgets were my favorite. Our school district was right in the middle of the oil field and property taxes on all the equipment and oil holdings gave our schools a good budget without everyone’s property taxes being through the roof. We didn’t have gold toilet fixtures or anything like that but we had “gadgets” for seventh grade science.


The steam engine was pretty close to the top of the list. It was kind of a rip off because you plugged it in like a clothes iron. It needed water in its boiler but “Ready Kilowatt”, the little cartoon man that advertised for the electrical co-op, churned up the heat to make the boiler steam. From here on out, the contraption worked like an old fashion steam engine. You could hook up a series of belts and pulley to run other do-dads for experiments.

The skeleton was a close runner up. It wasn’t read bone and it was only about quarter size, but we had to wire all the pieces together in their proper places. It wasn’t spooky or anything like that, but once it was together, that was that. You couldn’t dance with it or anything, although it was attempted once or twice.

I could go on down the list of all the science toys we had but you would get bored. I am about to see it in your faces now. The thing ,that as a whole, which caught the attention of everyone in the class was a box of short triangular pieces of crystal or Plexiglas or some substance. They didn’t do anything. There were lectures about light refraction, light bending, wave distortion. I am making most of this up as I go. What we did was look through them. Everyone would laugh and make fun while looking at each other and stumble around trying to walk while holding one across your eyes.

I particularly thought that I could see brighter while holding it just right. The light was more crisp. Colors were bright and vivid. Everything was in sharp focus. The most amazing thing was that even on a cloudy day you could make it project a rainbow. It was just refreshing.

I mentioned there was a box of them. There were enough that each student could take one home and keep it. This was to promote interest in doing experiments on our own. I kept mine on my dresser right beside my combination coin bank that I got when I was too young to remember. Any time I wanted, I could just snatch that thing up and see more brightly and make rainbows.

Pretty soon the experiment worked. I didn’t even have to have the magic piece of glass to see rainbows. They were pretty much everywhere I went. I remembered the teacher explaining that for it to work its best, it needed to be unobstructed so that it had its own clear vision of input so that its output would be crisp. She was right. Good clear input and with adjust and alignment, good clear project was a snap.

Now days I worry about the input the magic glass is having to filter. What I see being projected is not what I have been used to. Someone seems to have borrowed my looking glass and has painted a counterfeit rainbow on it. Trying to mislead. It has only succeeded in obscuring the real rainbow. I think I must have misplace my prism. The elementary laws of science are not in evidence. It is not you. Maybe it is just me. Maybe not.

Happy Thanksgiving To All You Nice Folks

Words can hardly carry the load sometimes, but I want to wish all of you nice folks a Happy Thanksgiving.  Glenn

What did I do this past weekend?

"Big Paw, can I watch Nemo again?" (5342 nd time)
anyone wanna guess what the my answer was?  :)

Babysitting

Tomorrow, I am going to take a day of vacation.  Yep, sleep late, kick back,   YANNNNNNZKZZKZKKKKKK,,, Not!!!!!!
I am going to baby-sit my little red headed Grand Daughter and my "Little Sputnic" Grand Son.  Yep, have already made the trip to more than one toy store, grocery store Target and other's, so it is like getting ready for a vacation.  It will be a vacation.  Roller coaster rides, horse rides, magic shows, bath room breaks, fit throwing, ( Little Red Head is MAJOR Drama Queen). On her last visit, I open the refrigerator to get her milk for her and she stepped in front of me and was looking around.  I finally said,

 " XXXXXXX, step back, Big Paw needs to shut the door."  You would have thought that I shut the door on her HEAD.  She threw her head back, opened her mouth until she could have swallowed a grapefruit and commenced to yell loud enough to set off the smoke alarms.  Big old crockadile tears streaming.  Her momma, my middle Baby, came running.

"What's the matter, Daddy?"

"I told XXXXXXXX that I needed to shut the fridge door." With a quirky smile.

"You should of heard her in Target the other day when I said that it was time to leave."  She just shook her head and left the kitchen.

Any "pointers"?  I would be glad to hear you comments..

"Thanks Coach, I needed that."

Yes, I am still up and around, for the one or two people that still check this site. It seems something is in the air. No really. Dust everywhere I just finished with the vacuum cleaner, trying to straighten this nasty office a little, and it (the vacuum cleaner) spits more dust in the air than it traps. I know, I know, who cares? Ok, me neither. Just trying to explain why I am not working and taking a short break.


What I really am getting at is,, it seems that more and more people are getting tired and discouraged. Maybe it is just me, but it seems that I am reading that the people that I “follow” are putting up the “I am going to stop and take a break” sign”. I did this a short while back. My posted reason may have been a little vague and that is just the way I am, but, I recharge my energy from reading all ya’ll’s posts.

I wonder, if it is not something else. I wonder if, we as a whole, are losing our optimism. Not within ourselves but as a team.( ie, nation) There is a lot of disagreement out in the world. It seems that more effort is being put into the DIS than the AGREE. I have played on a vast number of sport teams and other team organizations. When the “glue” starts to turn loose, optimism goes with it. I somehow have that “feeling”. This morning, I was thinking about one of my favorite teachers and coaches.

Without giving you the long version, we were struggling with team performance. I was in the tenth grade and was on the varsity football team. After one of our many pep talks, he took a piece of poster board and a magic maker and made a sign. He taped it to the wall in the locker room. As far as I know, it may still be there. It was simple. It was to the point. It was true. It was not “deeply mental”. It simply said….

                 “A vicious block on the wrong man is better than a timid block on the right man.”

Translated, to me at least,-- it does not have to be perfect, just do it full steam ahead.--regardless of what it is. I must pay better attention.. Thanks coach.