Roof Redux....

Not surprisingly with roof repairs, during last weeks heavy rains I discovered one recalcitrant drip in the den, in a spot that had a leak previously. Since the interior plaster already had been ruined, it is no big matter and on the positive side the other major leakages have been stopped cold.

Yesterday I called Frank Shepard whose company did the repairs and he said he'd have the crew out early this morning. And he did, come 7:15 they were on the roof having at it. I left them to their work and when I returned for lunch they were gone, but they must have worked like men possessed as there was dirt, old tar and roofing stones all over the patio. After some lunchtime work it is now clean and spiffy and I welcome the chance of storms today to see if the roof is finally sealed.

In other hometime news of no importance whatsoever, for years I have been trying to find flowering plants that do well in the mottled sunshine in the flower beds of the estate. I have recently had great luck with Lantana in areas that get more sunshine and now at the suggestion of master gardener Burr Williams I am trying Turk's Cap Malvaviscus grandiflorus. It appears to be doing wonderfully and if succesful will soon be my plant of choice [to hell with caladiums]. Turk's Cap provides colorful red blooms, is a luxuriant dark green plant, grows like a weed [actually I think it may be classed officially as such], gains good height and is a perennial. Who could ask for more?

After several bad days late last week the Big Gold Dog is doing better than he has in some time which is great news. In the bad news dog category, D. Daphne Dog has had a lingering, pernicious and malordorous case of gas since I let her in early this morning. As I file this report the assault is unabated so I must abandon the premises.

New Mexico Photography.....

View some of the photos using Flash navigation that I've been working on to print. Hope you enjoy them. New Mexico Photography

Sweet music...

Never in my wildest imagination did I think that the sounds of gravel being scrapped from my roof would be such sweet music to my ears.

Early this morning Mr. Shepard, owner of Shepard Roofing, called to say he was going to "try" and stop by this morning. Mr. Shepard is a fine man and an old fixture in the Midland roofing game, but through the last year I have learned that "try" in the roofing business means less than a 50% shot of something actually happening. But today the odds were in my favor as Mr. Shepard and one of his crew chiefs did make an appearance, though I also learned that in the roofing business making an appearance doesn't necessarily mean action either. But as you can see from the photo above today was a day of action!

The gravel is being scrapped back in preparation for retarring the flat portion of the roof that is leaking. When this is complete and after two seperate one inch plus rains in the last 4 days, I'll get to call my other good friends the DeAnda family plasterers to, once again, come and repair the inside damage. I find that plasterers are people of action, so all should be renewed shortly.

Update: No wonder the roof leaked. The roofers discovered a very long crack in the tar running almost the length of the flat roof directly over where most of the damage has occured inside the house. This was not visible until all the lava rock gravel had been removed.

Dog update.......

How's the Big Gold Dog you ask. Well, considering all, he's doing pretty well. He's still up for trying his morning walk, though some days we don't make it as far as we used to, but he gets an "A" for effort. His eating has slowed down since he's not on steroids anymore, but he does OK in that department too. Mostly he likes the cool comfort of the tile floors in his home with short trips out to the front yard to laze about. Being mostly deaf and very short of sight these days, I think he enjoys the trips out to savor the smells. And because he can't keep track of the world like he used to, he stays close to me. After an excursion to sniff the yard for strange smells he usually comes back to the porch and the glass front door where he can see me. But thankfully, he is doing better than I had expected a month ago and God has blessed him.....and me with more time together.

Blogathon....

My Dos Amigos in Blogville, Jimmy Patterson on the right and Eric Siegmund at left are hanging out this afternoon as part of Blogathon 2006. Both are braving the HEB supermarket lobby in the name of Midland Fair Havens, a very worthy cause. They'll be online today and thru the night. Stop by and make a donation. I've already won a contest....the list of prizes is staggering.

Dinner in jail...

I've started doing something, again, that I had done some years ago. Sponsoring some of the young guys incarcerated in the County Residential Treatment Center, CRTC. The CRTC is a lock up facility that provides substance abuse treatment for, generally, younger men who have done some fairly serious, though not life threatening crime, due to drugs and alcohol. Sponsoring is mentoring, mostly, the guys in the ways of AA and teaching them sober living without crime. A Big Brother for bad kids I suppose. Tonight was graduation night complete with speakers and a nice [for jail] dinner.

I had two of my guys graduating from the phase one program which means that after 3 months of being locked up they are deemed trustworthy enough to be released during the day to work. Both were proud as could be to get their certificate and the younger of the two achieved his GED while locked up. Pretty good for a 23 y.o. who has been a drug dealer since he was 17 y.o. The other is a somewhat older guy, a navy veteran, who let drugs lead him into a life as a methamphetamine producer. He found a good job his very first day out looking.

I hope both these guys get something out of our relationship, but if they don't, I sure do. At a sad point in my life there is nothing like helping a fellow human being out of a life of misery to make me grateful for what I have. The tragic stories of these kids family backgrounds makes me grateful for my more normal upbringing.....as does the sound of the steel door unlocking to let me out!

Special Order..

The first part of my special photo order went out today and after 6+ hours of work on these shots I have to say I'm starting to know how true artists feel when the sell and ship one of their works. After spending so much time with the piece and having it come out well, you rather hate to give it up. But the beauty of photography is that most always you can print more to match the original.

As you may know most all of the work is setting the image up to get ready to print....so many decisions! Each of the larger prints took at least an hour to decide on brightness/contrast, level of clarity, how much "noise" removed looked good or better or removing a powerline here and there. Also on this job I did discover a real printing key for my relatively low pixel camera......the "bicubic resize" function, turning mere 750 Kb digital files into behomth 22 Mb beauties allowing for much larger prints with good results.

And as always I messed around with cropping some photos which, overall, were not too bueno and turned them into unsuspecting surprises. The Ruidoso Downs image is one. Seen here in it's puny web size. The print in a 4"x11" mat looks great.

A lot of work late last night, but it was worth it, the client is a special one.

A cold snap.....

You know that you have been living in West Texas awhile when the temperature on your 5 p.m. afternoon walk is 94° and it feels almost cool. An easterly breeze helped and with the wind whispering through the pines that line the Windlands Park track it could have been the cool mountains of New Mexico. Well, not quite, but 94° felt a whole lot better than 101º.

On another note, I bought a new printer and have had the time lately to put it to good use converting many of my digital images into prints. I had a special request to do some landscapes, but the person who wanted these didn't stop to pickup them up so they were lying on the kitchen counter. I was surprised when someone else saw a couple and wanted them, even paying for the frames and mats I had put them into. Always nice for people to like your shots. I have 3 seperate photo editors and never cease to be amazed at the way small changes in the formating of the image turn out so differently in the prints. Unfortunately I'm generally limited to 5"x7" prints due to the lack of pixel power in my camera, but I've always loved black and white images and these turn out remarkably well. Here's one printed yesterday and gone today of the mountain pass bewtween Mora and Taos New Mexico. The prints look significantly better than this compressed web friendly image. And here's an added shot from the series in color as a comparison, Mora, New Mexico

Airborne School...!

There are those who think that reviving the past in our memories is rather wasted. One should be thinking of the future. But, as we learn, those who forget the past are doomed to make the same mistakes over again. I find also, that when taken in perspective, the hard times of today are nothing as when compared to some in the past. Gratitude in a perverse way.

In the last post I recounted my hot 3 mile walks everyday and while on those walks, miserable as they may be, I often think back to 35 years ago and recall that todays hot three mile walks "ain't shi" squat compared with "hell on earth"....US Army Airborne School. I actually went on to another school after Airborne that was more demanding physically and mentally, but Airborne School was my awakening.

The U.S. Army Airborne School is located at Ft. Benning, Georgia which in the summer is truly hell on earth, even without physical exertion. The daily temperature was in the mid to upper 90's but the humidity was 40% or better. This is one of those army experiences where you had better be in shape when you arrived or it was too late. A drill sergeant later told me their goal was to wash out at least 30% of the class in the first two days. I think they did that and more in my class. Anyway, I had two fraternity brothers who had been to Vietnam already and the only advice they gave was that if you go, brother be in shape. The fat, slow and dumb get killed. I took this to heart, "Fat=Dead" "In shape=Alive". I don't think I've ever completely given that thought up. So, while I was in the relatively sedentary Infantry Officer Basic Course, I had run more than required on my own and was in pretty good shape.

The airborne course is 3 weeks long, the first week being designed to weed the weak sisters out with long, long runs and some basic airborne techniques. The uniform every day was the old army fatiques that were thick as denim, heavy boots and the issue steel helmet that weighs 5 lbs. and is dark colored to absorb heat, with the chin strap to be buckled at all times. This makes it difficult to open ones mouth wide enough to suck in much air at all while running. Shirt sleeves not to be rolled up. The only concession to the heat was that we got to untuck our pants legs from the boots and roll them up to the top of the boot.

The airborne day got started at 5 a.m. with the order, "fall in on the cables". The cables being just that, long orderly rows of wire cables on which one put the toe of his boot to form ranks. Being an officer I lived in seperate quarters from the enlisted swine, so I always got to the area at about 4:50 a.m. having eaten just enough breakfast so I knew that it would be digested by the time the barfing started an hour later. After roll call the daily orders were dispensed through WWII era loud speakers placed all over the company areas. We later agreed that all we ever heard was, "Attention in the 49th company area....". All after that was garbled gibberish, the announcer being so enthusiastic that he yelled so loudly into the microphone that it caused static throughout the entire system. An occasional word of English slipped thru, but the announcer might as well have been speaking Mandarin Chinese, we didn't understand a word. Nor, did we have to, we had no latitude in what was going to happen to us that day anyway.

From the first formation we moved to "physical training" or PT, aka sanctioned torture. About an hour of calisthentics followed by our first run of the day, a three miler around a circuitous asphalt path, running in boots, the heavy fatiques and those damned helmets. Since the sun was now up, it was already hot. The army's solution to overheating was to have overhanging showers along the track about every mile which sprayed down upon the formation whether you wanted to get soaked or not. It felt pretty good, until your soaking pants started cutting rashes into your crotch. This is when I first learned not to wear underwear in some situations. There was another 2 mile run after lunch, so those who had not barfed enough in the morning could have another shot. I can't describe the feeling of all that sweat pouring thru heavy cloths, crotch rash burning and with the helmet on, no way to wipe the drips from your forehead as they ran into the eyes.

In the first week there were a few hours of instruction in the afternoon covering things like how to put the parachute on and how to properly land after jumping. The army uses a "5 points of contact" method when your body comes crashing to earth so we worked on this for days. It involves landing on the balls of the feet, rolling to the calf, the thigh, the side of the butt and then the curve of the back. We practiced this off of 4 and 6 foot walls into pits of sand, dirt and sawdust. All of these materials stick like clue to sweating bodies and increase the misery of the heat dramatically. With 400 or so people practicing in a group, the wait in the sun for your turn to be critqued was long. Good fun waiting for a 2 second experience only to be told by the instructor, "no good, do it again". The instructors, by the way, were the cream of the crop in the army, were good, demanding and could and would curse like.....well drill instructors. Mostly spitting right into your face from a foot away while doing so. The only concession to me as an officer was that after their cursing tirade they'd have to add a "sir" usually with a big, fake grin.

The second week was filled with many fun filled apparatii designed to simulate aiborne operations. Here are a few in pictures...

The "suspended harness" apparatus shown above is used to give trainees the feel of hanging in the parachute harness and work on manuevering the chute thru the "risers" coming off the harness. New jumpers need pay special attention to rigging up their harness as the main support straps go thru the legs on either side of some delicate male property. If the trainee gets it wrong he'll know it when the instructors raise him 4 ft. off the floor.

The "swing landing trainer" above is the most dreaded device of airborne school. It is used to show trainees what it is like to be coming down near the ground in a chute while drifting in one direction and at the same time swinging like a pendulum. The trainee steps off of a 12 ft. platform and is swung, and towed ahead while an instructor lowers the man nearer the ground with a pulley. Whenever the instructor is ready, he releases the pulley rope and down goes the jumper. The job description for instructors here requires some knowledge of sadism, as most of the time they will release the poor trainee when he is highest in his upswing sometimes many feet off the ground. I usually landed very hard on my helmeted head, more than once knocking me dizzy.

Moving on from the more static training aids, the new jumper confronts his first real test with heights...the 34 ft. tower. As you can see above it simulates an aircraft which the jumper practices exiting. He then drops about 8 ft. before the harness catches him and he slides down a long cable to make a practice 5 point landing. Actually rather fun after you've done it several times, but the wait on the stairs for the 50 guys ahead of you wasn't. One of my favorite personages, ever, in the army ran this device. SFC Dudley, was a black veteran who looked and sounded exactly like Jeffrey Holder, who did the 7-Up "uncola" ads years ago. SFC. Dudley would laugh just like the uncola man as he whacked you on the ass and shoved you out the door. Honestly I came home many a night with his hand print on my butt.

At the end of the 2nd week of training the day of reckoning occured, being dropped from the 250 ft. tower. Shown above is the tower itself and some poor soul being towed up. The towers dominate the training base and remind you that you too will have to face this demon. The jumper is strapped to an open parachute which is attached to a round frame with a stout nylon web strap going around the whole frame. A cable is attached to the center of the chute and up you go, and up and up. For those not used to open heights, it is frankly scary, yet exciting. Up and up with nothing to look down upon but your boots and the specks below which are people. Getting to the top you hang there for what seems an eternity. You must, yourself, pull the nylon safety strap out and when that falls away, the center cable is released and down you go. The wind was always an important factor, for if it switched directions during your descent you had the good possiblity of being blown into the tower superstructure, there to hang until a brave soul climbed up and got you free. I saw this happen, luckily after my turn, it would have scared me to death. The other possibility is that the wind would gain strength suddenly and carry you where you weren't intending to go. Like through the window of a mess hall. This too happened while I was there.

The final 3 days of Airborne School are devoted to actually jumping from a C-130 aircraft. Many people will tell you that after the 2 weeks of the hell period, the jumping is anti-climatic. Not really but you are just glad to get it over with. It is a lot of waiting and soul searching. Will I do OK, will I be a "no go" and chicken out. Some did, most jumped, the kid behind me was crying, I couldn't I was an officer. The experience is exhilirating, particularly when the open the door at 120 knots. The training pays off, the green light comes on and you go. I ended up making close to 100 jumps in my army career, many at night. I was never injured seriously and frankly after all that training I don't think that I ever made one of those "5 point landings". Mine all seemed to be 2 point landings. Feet and butt.

Hot stuff.....

Since the old Memorial Stadium track is closed for upgrades I've had to move my daily walking location to Windlands Park. Around 5 p.m. it's been perfect walking weather, about 102° with no shade. Most assuredly hotter on the dark asphalt trail. The park does have several advantages as it is a bit more interesting than walking around a track 12 times to get 3 miles in and is less crowded with activities; there just don't seem to be many Midlanders interested in 102° walking. With virtually no one else on the trail and with my weight down to a "svelte" 190 lbs. I've also been able to take my shirt off and get a tan like I haven't had in ages, even with 6 o'clock sun. If you are not from these parts, at 6 o'clock we still have almost 3 hours of daylight left this time of year and with not a cloud in the sky, an evening tanning opportunity is available.

I have to say that at about the 2.5 mile mark I do often wonder if I'm going to make it. My thought is that either it will really toughen me up or kill me. If I don't report in here for several days, come out to Windlands Park and look for a mumified, really tan old guy by the side of the trail.

Viewers choice.....

Olé it's the dancer!

Bravo the red chair!

Medical wrap up...

As I've gotten several emails from folks, here's one last post on the medical condition of the Big Gold Dog. Unless something drastic happens. I do get tired of talking about people's or dog's medical conditions. Sometimes it seems like the only topic of conversation. There is my Dad, who although doing well on a daily basis, could have something dire happen at anytime. My Mom has recently been through back problems and "other" complaints that she won't talk about because if we "only knew" how bad they were, we would worry about her. She prefers to do all the worrying. Then there is my cardiac condition. Feeling great, walking 3+ miles a day, down to 190 lbs. but if you've ever had major surgery there is always that remote fear lurking that although the Docs say you are doing marvelously, they really aren't telling you the whole story. All these medical concerns and the other major stress ongoing in my life does make for an extra level of worry about my ticker and makes me want to talk of other things.

But, as to the Big Gold Dog. He started on his oncological medication today, which is a human anti-inflammatory agent that he will take every other day for a month, at which time he will be re-evaluated. The hope is that the medication will keep the tumor at bay or perhaps even shrink it a little. One improvement in the last day is that I no longer notice blood in his urine which has been a worry. He actually is feeling quite well thanks mostly to the steroid compound that he is on which has increased his ability to move his old bones around and eat more than he has in quite a while. We still go on our several block walk each morning and he still loves to sit in the front yard and watch the world go by.

Thanks for your prayers and good wishes.....

Ultrasound diagnosis....

The Big Gold Dog enjoyed the 40 mile round trip to the vet's in Gardendale for his ultrasound scan and he liked meeting new friends and his visit with Dr. Evans. The ultrasound proceedure is simple, short and painless but I wish I had better news, although it was not unexpected. The ultrasound confirmed Dr. Adkins suspicion that a tumor is present in the bladder. The extensive bleeding of last Thursday was caused by a tear in the tumor which was evident in the scan. Tres is urinating without problems now but there is evidence of blood as he finishes up his squating. This, explained Dr. Evans, is caused by the bladder pressing in on the tumor as it is evacuated.

But there is hope. Dr. Evans has consulted with Dr. Adkins about a fairly new medication developed by a veterinary oncologist in Houston that has shown good results in slowing bladder tumor growth. An anti-immflamatory drug, it may even help Tres feel better in his old age. More aggresive treatments are, of course, available but come with "quality of life" issues that would be unacceptable at this stage in The Big Gold Dogs life.

Thanks for all the concern in comments and emails.

Home at last....

The Big Gold Dog is home at last after a very stressful two days for us both. Quite frankly, yesterday morning I had thought that he just might not make it. As he lay in a large pool of blood on the front porch, a permanently imprinted vision of a young man dying in a pool of blood 35 years ago came back to me. Just as 35 years ago, help might come to late, I was going

to have to accept the fact that this is how it would end between my best buddy and me. But as you may have read in the last several posts, God would bless us this time and we were able to get to help in time. Tres is on several different medications, will have an ultrasound scan on Monday and will have to be watched closely, but seems to be feeling well. A trooper of an old dog, he came right in after we got home, got a treat, a big drink of water and went outside directly to the spot of so much tension yesterday and went to sleep under the watchful eye of Daphne.

Some people might not understand, but after some heartbreaking events in my life, to me it just doesn't get any better than to have your best buddy alive and back home.

So the reader does not wonder about Daphne, well she's never had it so good. She's gotten more attention of late than she's ever had, has a new bed, a new collar and will go in for her check up soon. She's also being walked every day and has finally started displaying less neurotic behavior on the leash. She's a good dog.

[and I have to add a special thanks to all the people at Shannon Animal Clinic who also love The Big Gold Dog and took such wonderful care of him. They're the best]

From the Sick Bay...
Just returned from the morning visit with the Big Gold Dog. With the help of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory medication he's feeling great. I took him for a short walk down the kennel corridor, where he urinated normally and with only a slight amount of blood still visible. He felt like eating almost a quarter of a box of small dog treats and didn't want to get back into his hospital bed. Nosiree, he's ready to go home. After a bath, he'll be good to go at about 3 o'clock this afternoon. Daphne and I will be ready for the Big Gold Dog to be back where he belongs. This is good news. On the side of reality, Dr. Adkins has x-rayed him again and feels that the cause of the problem is most likely a tumor. He recommends that we do an ultrasound scan next week to see if we can see more definitively what's going on and make a decision as to the course of action from there. Frankly, there may be nothing that can be done, except to pray, make him comfortable and accept God's plan for us. Acceptance is the key to my serenity today.

Big Gold Dog..
Say a little prayer if you kindly would for Tres, The Big Gold Dog. He's resting now at Shannon Animal Hospital under the magnificent care of our friend and saint, Dr. Greg Adkins. This morning I had trouble rousing Tres to go outside. When I heard him get up and start for the door I walked from the kitchen into the living room and was horrified to see a large pool of blood where he stood. He went outside and immediately collapsed onto the front porch, where I could see yet more blood appearing. At this hour of the morning I had to wait for Greg to get to the clinic and then worry that Tres would even have the energy to get into the car, being far too large to lift by myself. Trooper that he is, however, he finally struggled into the car and we raced to the hospital.

Greg saw us immediatley and determined that the blood was coming not from his rear end as I had supposed but through his urinary tract. The large amount of blood I had seen was actually largely urine with blood in it. Not good none the less. Greg gave Tres intervenous fluids and analyzed the urine/blood sample, finding the white blood cell count to be good, which does not negate a tumor but makes it less likely. As things are now, Greg knows that there is a blockage but the cause could be an infection, a calcium deposit, a broken blood vessel or perhaps a tumor. Greg will be taking X-Rays and doing some other tests while I'm gone.

I'm going to check on the Big Guy at noon. I'll update when we know something more....thanks.

4:15 PM: The signs for Tres are encouraging later this afternoon. He is eating treats and drinking water and wanted to walk around. Good signs. Greg has X-Rayed him and saw nothing major, but noted a spot he could not identify. He's going to re x-ray and possibly keep Tres overnight.

7:15 PM: I spent an hour with the patient tonight. He's feeling better...if eating a can of dog food in 4 bites means anything. He'll stay overnight to see if he still has blood in his urine, and Dr. Greg still thinks he sees some sort of "lump" in his bladder. He'll do another x-ray tomorrow and possibly ultrasound. But Tres is definetly ready to come home. It broke my heart to leave him behind when I left.

Independence Day.....

Friend Gayle Dodson leads the big parade!.

Nothing says the Fourth of July like scary clowns.

..or guys in funky hats who are old enough to know better.

..or barbeque at the Bad Boyz AA group. Bad Boyz is composed of bikers and those with a more "colorful" past than most.

Memorable 4th's......

As holidays go, the 4th of July is one of my favorites. I was thinking today of some of the more memorable ones.

1969: Ft. Sill, Oklahoma. I was at ROTC summer camp, living on a dusty plain in a tent for 6 weeks in 100° heat. We actually got the 4th off and were treated to a stupendous live fire power demonstration by virtually every weapons system in the army. Wow!

1974: Kauai, Hawaii. I had started an Army outrigger canoe team and paddled with them two years. When it was ordered folded I was asked to join a "local" team. I was the only haole [not local] guy on the team. We were racing at Hanalei, Kauai for the 4th. After the race our team had a luau on the beach. Not one of the touristy kind either. Several people were speaking in Hawaiian, something not everyone gets to hear. Magical.


1976: Midland. After being away in the Army for virtually every holiday, birthday, wedding, funeral and from family and friends for six years I was finally home in time for the National Bi-Centennial. I can't describe the feeling.

1986: Midland. The Centennial celebration of the City of Midland. We came out and had a rousing good time with all the old timers I've ever known. They had calf roping in front of the Petroleum Bldg. and Tommy Lee Jones was the grand marshall of the parade. The highlight for me was the 40 mile bike race half way to Rankin and back. Here I am in a rarely seen archival photo. 20 years later and I still look exactly like this.....except 20 older and somehow my biceps now seemed to have shriveled up.

The Butane Yard...

Occasionally at this hot time of the year I recall the summer of 1965 when I worked in the Eddins-Walcher butane yard in Odessa.

My Dad, who had started working outside the home at age 12, was a firm believer that if one of his sons was old enough to drive an automobile [he actually still called them "automobiles" back in '65] then said son was old enough to drive himself to work. Way back then we could legally drive at age 14, which is a tremedously scary thought now, so in 1964 I started driving the 1957 VW beetle to work as a bag boy at the Furrs' Supermarket on Illinois street near the Village. The building is still there but is now the Eagle Academy or somesuch thing. I'm proud to say that by the end of the summer I'd worked my way up to bag boy/stocker. Being a "stocker", if even part time, was a grand accomplishment for a man on his way up and meant that I could get away from the sniggling old ladies who always complained about the bag job. But it was the promise of higher pay and a more "manly" job that caught my attention the next summer.

My Dad was the V.P. and general manager of Eddins-Walcher Butane Co. which had become a rather large regional concern by 1965. E-W had fuel and transportation "yards", supply centers and service stations all over West Texas and Eastern New Mexico. Several summers later I ended up painting their service stations in such locales as Andrews, Kermit, Midland and Hobbs NM. But the first summer I was in my Dad's employ, my assignment was to paint butane tanks of all sizes at the Odessa storage facility. Somewhat naively I assumed that this must be a plum job if the bosses son was sent to do it. As you may discern this was not to be the case and, in fact, I was somewhat deflated when I learned that I was not to be the only privelaged employee that summer. The company owner, Jack Walcher, had also procured a job for his son Dan. Even though I was outranked in the progeny hierarchy, I was a year or so older than Dan, so things rather evened out and we got along famously.

My brother and I shared a car at the time, so since Dan had his own vehicle he agreed to drive all summer with me helping with gas money. And what a vehicle he had. A real classic of the gas guzzler era, a 1963 Pontiac Grand Prix. This was when the Grand Prix was a real car a "wide track", approximately 120 ft. long and the rear bench seat could fit 12 people comfortably. It is now a collectors item. I imagine the rougher working crowd in the part of Odessa where the yard was located thought it quite amusing to see two smallish white color kids arriving at our blue collar jobs in this immense car. As I remember Dan could barely see over the wheel.

The "butane yard" in Odessa was the main storage area for a massive amount of butane tanks of all sizes and was the central truck hub for the company; it was probably 10 acres all told. The smaller tanks were used for residential applications and the huge tanks, 30 ft. long and about 10 ft. tall, were used in the oil fields. Our job was to scrape and repaint each tank in the yard as well as the ones that were coming back in after hard use. We painted them white, in 100 degree heat, with no shade and the tanks were located on crushed caliche, which is a whitish limestone rock known for it's propensity to reflect the sun. We painted with ordinary paint rollers which, when working quickly, threw off a fine white spray. The reflection from all this white was immense and as I recall I went thru a pair of cheap sunglasses every other day. The glasses becoming useless as the paint spray slowly covered the lenses. I had a great tan, though rather dappled as ones body would tend to become sprayed over also. We carried our own water and weren't allowed to come back inside to the "shop" until lunchtime or we were about to pass out....whichever came first.

Our chief source of amusement was "flash freezing" anything we could find. Butane is stored at extremely high pressure to keep it a gas. The result of this is that if the small valve on the tank is opened, the outflowing gas is released at a temperature of about -100 degrees. This would quickly turn lizards, ants and other life forms [including fingers if not careful] into solidly frozen chunks of matter. You could hit a frozen lizard with a rock and it would break apart like an ice cube. We learned also that you could do a fast cleanup of paint rollers using this technique, knocking the frozen paint off like broken glass.

The yard and shops had two full time employees. Jeff McSpadden was the yard foreman and Alan was the mechanic who worked on the large fleet of trucks required of the business. Courtesy of these two I learned that, indeed, there was another side of life other than the comfortable upbringing I had been used to at that point. Jeff, was a decent hard working man who alternately treated us as if we were either full fledged adults or children getting in his way. He had no compunction against using language fit for a sailor in our midst and this was often directed at Dan and Me.

If we did not go to lunch at the What-a-Burger [one of the first by the way] on the Andrews Hwy. we were allowed to eat our sack lunches on the work bench inside the shop. Until the day which I will remember forever. After lunch this particular day, Jeff called us back in from the yard to lay a tirade of epic proportions upon us. The topic was "piss ants". Jeff made us come close to the bench to inspect the "piss ant" infestation which he blamed on our eating habits. "You little Sons ** *****s are such sloppy little Ass*****s that you've got my work bench full of piss ants. You know I'm going to get bit by piss ants everytime I'm at the workbench. You know how hard it is to get rid of piss ants?" I had no idea but from his tone I suspected it must be very hard. We were forever banned from eating at the work bench again, and to this day piss ants still make me nervous, though I'm not fully sure that I even know what a piss ant is.

Alan, the mechanic, however was the real piece of work. Whereas Jeff had his good points, Alan had no discernable skills at being a human being at all. Looking back on it he must have been a good candidate for AA, at least his actions make me suspect. I suppose he was a good mechanic and he did seem overworked, but if ever there was a candidate for the looney bin he was it. Dan and I dreaded the times that he needed our assistance on some mechanical project, like holding a nut while he tightened something. We could never do even the smallest jobs to suit him and I don't recall a single time that he didn't end up cursing us and telling us to get out of his F****** shop. Alan also had a bent for throwing tools....hard, at anything he didn't like so it was better to stick close by his side during these psychotic episodes. He couldn't hit you if you were next to him.

On more than one occasion even from far out in the yard, you could hear his cursing and screaming then the sound of tools hitting the metal shop wall. Within a flash he'd be in his old pickup roaring out of the yard spinning caliche stones behind him. Several hours later he would return as if nothing had ever happened, having probaby imbided a couple of cold beverages to calm himself down. Even Jeff left Alan alone mostly.

Dan and I survived that summer and as I know now, it was a good learning experience as most difficult things in life are. It made my desire to go to college grow intensely so I wouldn't have to end up working forever in a butane yard. For some reason I remembered that Jeff grew up in Rankin and in one of life's coincidences, just several years ago in AA, I met a McSpadden from Rankin. It was Jeff's cousin who told me that Jeff had retired to Rankin and had lived a good comfortable life there....hopefully "piss ant" free until his death. Eddins-Walcher Fuels was eventually sold to Franks Fuels and is now a huge business. Jack Walcher is still alive and well into his mid 80's and I see he and his wife often at church.

The next summer, of 1966, and on Saturdays during the school year I graduated to working in one of the company service stations on Wall St. There I had to adjust myself to working with other mechanics and to waiting on the ungrateful public while wearing a blue workshirt emblazened with the Amoco logo, my name and a bowtie just like in those quaint old commercials you see. I even mastered the standard, "Welcome to Amoco, may I fill 'er up?" I did this with a smile even though I suspect it may have started me on the road to strong drink.

Marketing 101....

One of the oldest and best marketing tricks on the planet...tell the consumer a favorite product is gone, then bring it back and watch them flock in! Think "Coke" to "New Coke" and back to "Classic Coke". Now think the newly redesigned and scaled down Yellow Bug News!

"Sam".....

I love Alcoholics Anonymous. It has literally saved my physical and emotional life. I usually go once every week, but of late have been much more often and not because I'm worried that I might start swilling vodka again. My propensity to drink alcohol was lifted over 12 years ago. My propensity for immature self-centered thinking was not. As one newcomer said in a meeting on Saturday, "you know, I always thought that AA was only about quitting alcohol and drugs, it's really about living, everyone I know should come to these meetings to learn about life". Well said.

Tonight when I was in the throes of obsessive thinking and self righteous indignation, I met "Sam". "Sam" is an Hispanic/Indian fellow, quiet and soft spoken, neatly dressed and about the same age as I am. As we spoke in our small group "Sam" described his life in terms that I could relate to. People coming and going in his life, mistakes he had made and small victories won. His description of his life reminded me that all in AA have some things in common incuding the desire to do better by recognizing our defects and working small steady steps to improve ourselves even if we are imperfect and that ultimately not only are we powerless over alcohol but also people. "Sam", his story and his lessons learned could have been mine.

Except that "Sam" has spent most of his adult life in prison, having just been released after serving a 20 year sentence. He kicked heroin 15 years ago while in prison, learned that in AA we depend only on ourselves and the maintenance of our spiritual progam for our success and that by helping others we relieve ourselves of the "bondage of self".

I know of few other places than AA that God would put a person like "Sam" before me when I needed to be reminded of what is important.

The Robin....

Although I have a good sprinkler system, I usually spend 15 minutes or so each evening watering a few things, because the Big Gold Dog likes to lie in the front yard and watch the world go by. He seems to enjoy my company. Four or five days ago I heard a faint chirping from amongst the ivy and discovered a fledgling

robin chick. The young bird apparently had tried his first flight from the nest and failed as he could make it no more than a few feet in the air. I thought seriously about "rescuing" the bird, but my better instincts told me that nature would take it's course. I was thinking that with several neighborhood cats around that the end would not be a good one.

I didn't see the young bird for a day or so but was amazed to see him on the other side of the yard several days later. When I tried to get close enough to take the picture above, the mother robin, who I had thought had long ago abandoned her chick, swooped down and threatened me. Apparently she had been watching over him all the time. And as I watched, indeed, she returned with some bird morsel in her beak and fed the chick.

Hopefully he'll be flying soon and go on his way. There is lesson here I suppose, if we humans could only count on those we care about as much as the birds seem to do we would all be so much the better off.

My Dad....

Once again recent events prove that my Dad is one of only a handful of people I can trust with my soul. He has always been there through good times and bad, better or worse and has loved me no matter the circumstances. He has seen me at my best and at my lowest depths, but his feelings for me, his trust in my outcome and his unwavering love has been constant. He has believed in my dreams and pulled me back up when they failed. He has never waivered in what he sees as his responsibility to his family and he has never considered giving up on us.

The picture above is one he had made in England shortly before he came home from the war after 3 years of training, fighting in Italy and recovering in England from feet frozen in the Italian Alps. He married my Mom shortly after arriving home and they have been married ever since. Not an easy task with my Mom sometimes, or with us kids, but he would never consider giving up and he'll tell you today that it was all worth it. I love you Dad.

Smooth Jazz...

I've been a fan of Tom Braxton ever since I listened to his first album. He's a world class saxophonist, smooth jazz artist and a very nice and intelligent guy to boot.

Last night at the Hilton was another of those occasions when I wonder where are all the people in Midland who say there is nothing to do. There were 20 people in the crowd. Embarassing, but great for the "crowd" as we got to participate in the show, throw out requests [mine: some Antonio Carlos Jobim, done wonderfully] and I got to take some great photos here and here which Tom graciously took the time to help me compose.

A great night, a late night and a great time.

Man's best friend....

Rotors over Midland....

By popular demand, here are some more pictures taken during our recent most exciting adventure flying over Midland. Huey over Midland

[around here one request is considered popular demand].

Flying high...

What a day, I'd forgotten how much fun it is flying in a Huey helicopter with the doors open. When no one is shooting at you of course. With your legs dangling out the door and being able to look straight down, it's the closest thing to being a bird that you can experience. With the slower speed of the chopper, if you are careful you can lean way out the door and take some pretty interesting pictures. Here's one shot as we approached the Midland Airport.

My friend Gregg Baiano owns his on helicopter fleet consisting of 4 Hueys and a newly purchased Cobra [recently seen in the film Mission Impossible III] and he invited us to go flying this morning. With my friend, author, Joe Galloway in town Gregg knew that we would enjoy a trip around town in the old Vietnam workhorse. Actually a trip above town. So Joe and I along with several other friends loaded up and pulled pitch this morning for an hour flight before we set down at the Permian Basin Vietnam Memorial where Joe made an appearance. It was a rather an emotional trip for a load of ex Vietnam Vets most of whom were ex Huey and Cobra pilots along with an ex infantry officer [me] and the most famous journalist of the Vietnam War. We all have so many memories of times good and bad flying into landing zones like we hit this morning.

But today we were greeted by people we know well.....brother veterans. As I said an emotional trip back in time.

Memorial Day.....

My friend Joe Galloway [L], author of We Were Soldiers Once and Young, along with Vietnam helicopter pilot Chuck Oualline, in town to remember our fallen comrades for Memorial Day. Hope you'll take some time to do the same.......

Freedom is not Free!

60 Years today...

May 24th is my parents wedding anniversary. 60 years ago today they tied the knot in Webster Groves Missouri, shortly after my Dad got back from his almost 4 years overseas in Europe.

It's a strange idea, but as I got older this year the thought occured to me....wow, that's longer than I've been alive! Thankfully. Carol and Wally have had their ups and downs, good times and some very bad ones [some attributable to me] but have weathered all storms and come out still loving one another. That's really all we can hope for. So thanks, Mom and Dad for being there thru thick and thin. What a pleasure, it is to be able to reside so close to them and to be able to now help them out when they need it.

We had a not so big party at The Wall Street Bar and Grill, went to their house with for some snapshots of the happy couple with flowers the kids sent and that was that. But the memory of their help and guidance never fades..... Here's Carol and Wally.

The Artiste......

It was four years ago this weekend that the bride and I had our second date. Our first had been to the ballgame the night before and we decided to try it again, this time to the Celebration of the Arts. I'm glad we did because we agreed that my friend, local artist Helen Pogue, was one of our joint favorites. We bought a large oil painting that day that still adorns our large den fireplace. I'm glad also that we had a second date because, well.....we ending up getting married.

So we have been back each year since and bought works from Helen each time. Most years two at a time. Helen is a premier and well known local artist who has exhibited in galleries in Santa Fe and New York. Unfortunately in the last 10 years she had a stroke which at first slowed her work down and recently forced her to call a halt to all painting.

Last year she announced to our chagrin that 2005 would be her last show so we bought our usual allotment. In the galleries Helen's works command premier prices, but because she is a friend she always makes some excuse as to why she can sell us her art for ridiculously low prices. "Oh I never really liked that one" or "I've had this a long time and I'm tired of looking at it". Sometimes I think that the gold frames are worth more than she is charging us.

So Saturday as I walked into the convention center I was overjoyed to see Helen in her usual spot in a high traffic corner. We joked about her continuous "going out of business sale" but she said that this year she had cleaned out her storage area and the works hanging were indeed her last. I started out to purchase one oil and then couldn't let my second choice go....nor my third choice. I bought them all. Helen has many eclectic styles but the one we like the most and is the theme throughout our home is her impressionistic views of New Mexico. Vibrant in color and in the main simple in composition they go wonderfully with our decor.

It will not be the same going to the Art Show with Helen not there....but we're hoping that she will do some "on commission" work for us. Her hand is not as steady as before which is the reason we think she doesn't want to do public works anymore. But her heart is still in the work. Here is one of today's purchases.

Addendum: I forgot to add that one of the brighter spots of the day was when I was "carded" to prove my age for the Senior Citizens discount. Thank you young woman at the gate!

Illegals & High Gas Prices...

My mailbox is being flooded with mail concerning gas prices and
all of the illegal immigrants. To boycott oil companies or not;
to provide amnesty to illegal immigrants or not, etc.

Since I have become jaded to the various solutions proposed by
the Republicans, Democrats, Sierra Club, ACLU, etc., I elected
to solve the problems as they affect me. It solves both my gas
and illegal immigrant problems.

I have hired illegal immigrants to push my car.
They're plentiful and cheaper than buying gas.

GOD BLESS AMERICA !!!

Tonight's story.....

I'll begin tonight's story with the conclusion of events. It's about 10 pm. and Raoul, the city water department night emergency man just left the estate moments ago.

Homeowners everywhere cringe at those words, water department night emergency man. Raoul had to come out to help me locate the emergency water shut off valve. I knew where the meter was in the alley, but the valve was in an odd position and buried under dirt so it was difficult to find.

It's strange how I can trace tonight's final calamity directly back through a series of seemingly inconsequential steps. That's the way the world works, one small step for man, one broken water system for mankind.

Several months ago, I was putzing around in the storage shed where the sprinkler system controls are housed and I decided after all these years to finally take the time to program the sprinklers to do exactly as I wished. No easy task as we have 12 different stations in the system. But with persistance and some computer skills I got the task completed, or so I thought. I could never get the first station to come on, either manually or automatically, so with some previous sprinkler management experiece under my belt I decided that a valve must be stuck. A diagnosis that was confirmed tonight when I saw a large pool of water under the huge Afghan Pine in the front yard. A valve not only stuck, but now apparently broken.

This discovery led me to the next stage on the road to further troubles. This is the second law of homeownership, I have found. Once a problem is discovered, at least one more major problem will arise out of the first. And so it was to be. Having found the large pool of water I decided to run the sprinklers once more for the night and then shut off the water to the entire sprinler system using the master cut off valve in the back yard. I have done this many times with no problem....until tonight. As I turned the valve inward a fine spray of water from the valve stem quickly turned into a major spray, the more I turned, the greater the volume of water. Trying to mitigate the damage I backed the valve back out to open where it had been, at which point the whole valve and gasket assembly basically fell apart, sending out a massive spray. The only good side of this was that on a hot night it felt pretty good to be soaked.

With some experimentation I turned the valve to a point where the spray was somewhat manageable and then I found time to curse....a lot. This is the point that I decided I'd better figure out how to turn the water to the estate off and found that the valve was not to be seen. Knowing when one is in trouble is the first step towards recovery so I phoned the City of Midland night emergency operator.

And this is how Raoul came to be at the estate. I have to humbly say that I apologize for all the times I've cursed the City Water Department because Raoul came quickly, was very pleasant and calmed my fears about leaving the spray running all night. Apparently he's seen a lot worse and we both agreed that since the spraying valve is in amongst the trees, they could use the water.

So tomorrow I must find a sprinkler repairman and be prepared to shell out significant dough for above and underground valves. But that's tomorrow.....Fiddle Dee Dee.

PS: what is the first law of homeownership? It is...."just when everything seems to be running smoothly......it won't be for long".

The next day...., it is now Friday morning, the birds are chirping, the water is shut off and Henry [seen above] is busily fixing the main sprinkler cut off valve. All is well, almost, at the estate. However early this morning as I drove to a V.A. doctors appointment in Odessa while searching the yellow pages and calling 2 or 3 sprinkler companies I thought I was in trouble. I thought I was in for more "roofer" type treatment. All very nice but the earliest they could get to my urgent problem was, "sometime next week". Until I finally called Alldredge Gardens. They are not the biggest in town for no reason....they found time to send someone out, that would be Henry. I will pay a little more for their services, but it's worth it to have good prompt service.

Glo-ball-ization......

Today was the day I made the decision to switch my office ISP from T3Wireless to Clearwire. Both wireless providers [perhaps you could tell by the names!] but Clearwire is $20/month cheaper, provides faster service and if I should move office locales again all I need do is to cart the free standing modem along with me..or if I want to put my PC out in the front yard, it would work there too.

The other pretty nifty deal in getting Clearwire now is that I got a buy one/get one free airline ticket anywhere in the U.S. on any air carrier. Not bad! But what I wanted to highlight is perhaps the worst example I've seen of political correctness and globalization run amok. The Clearwire folks have in their offices, a display highlighting the free airline ticket deal. The display has a sandfilled pool surrounded by beach toys. One of which was a beach ball. Just a plain old beach ball like any child would play with at a pool or actual beach. Except, take a moment to look at the photograph of the side of the ball.

WARNING: USE ONLY UNDER COMPETENT SUPERVISION!

This is a stinkin' soft beach ball we're talking about here. Unless it's somehow been loaded with high explosives I think that probably we could trust the kiddies to be OK with this plaything. And this dire warning is then copied into every language invented by God since the Tower of Babel. What's this world coming too? Don't answer that.....I think we know. The last line tells all: Hecho en China.

Serenity.....

Today in the Picture of the Day, I bring you the picture of serenity a lone fisherman all to himself on the Colorado River near Bend, Texas. This photo is from last March and my Let's Go Fishing annual excursion with my frat brothers. The fisherman is actually Terry McCarty of Boerne, one of our group. Terry was the star running back at Trinity University in the mid 60's. Just look at him now! How far we've come. Perhaps I should entitle this photo, "Picture of Senility".

A Kinky link.....

Thanks to academy award nominated screenwriter, famed mystery novelist and power blogger Roger L. Simon for taking an interest in the story of his fellow mystery writer Kinky Friedman. The guy in the photo with Kinky looks familiar but I just can't place him.....

A Kinky story....

Thanks to our pal Jimmy Patterson I was able to spend an hour or so with notable Texan and gubernatorial candidate Kinky Friedman this morning. Jimmie was kind enough to let me sit in on his live webcast interview with Kinky and to photograph the proceedings.

I enjoyed meeting the Kinkster up close and personally and found him to be extremely interesting, intelligent, knowledgable about issues and dead serious about becoming the next governor of the great State of Texas. Not to mention utterly hilarious! His interview with Jimmy had it's humerous moments but Kinky answered questions in a serious and responsible tone and in fact, had some great and very straightforward solutions to the challenges that face Texas today. You can learn more about how Kinky would govern Texas by visiting his website. And if you didn't catch the half an hour interview with Kinky you can see it archived at My West Texas.

Thanks again Jimmy for this photo op, what a blast.

More Clouds......?

Yes, more photos of storm clouds. They're so beautiful and magnificent I can't help myself. But the week is supposed to be hot and clear so this should be it for awhile and I've put varied pictures up on their own page so you can get your fill.

Tomorrow, if all things go as planned, I'll be exhibiting some celebrity shots.

Oil pricing and you....

We in Midland had the rare opportunity to hear one of the world's premier oil analysts live and in person last night. As some of us in the crowd joked, one explosive device would have wiped out the Permian Basin oil business, such were the numbers of people in attendance.

Matt Simmons has been an energy investment banker since 1973 and over time has gained great stature as one of the leading thinkers on the subject of oil, gas and energy in general. He has recently written a book entitled, "Twilight in the Desert: The Coming Saudi Oil Shock and the World Economy." His research, started many years ago before the present price crunch, led him to believe that the capacity and life of the Saudi oil fields was being vastly overstated and overrated. These fields, he believes, are in a state of decline and in fact no new large fields have been found in Saudi Arabia since the 1970's.

This is crucial because for decades economists and analysts have thought of Saudi oil like a central bank, stepping in to shore up supply shortages and keeping the price of oil fairly moderate. A decline in production means that in reality this is not possible for the Saudi's anymore.

While not predicting future price scenario's Mr. Simmons believes oil is still very cheap at $70/bbl. This bears some truth to me if one compares oil, our lifeblood, to other common products. With oil at $70/bbl. the price of a gallon of it is 60 cents, translating into, roughly, $3 a gallon gasoline. At this price consumers are outraged, towns boycott Exxon and the senate passes an anti-gouging bill aimed at Big Oil. Yet the outraged consumers don't seem to be sellng their SUV's nor driving less nor to be so strapped that they have to stop buying their bottled Dasani Lemon Water for $1 a pint.....which is $4 a gallon. Hmmm? Water costing six times what a gallon of oil costs. It would seem that oil has a long way to go on the upside to achieve full value.

In a nutshell, this was Mr. Simmons concluding point. Ever since modern man has used fossil fuels to power his world, he has been used to cheap, much too cheap, fuel. Simmons is quick to point out that we are not running out of oil, but we are running out of easy to find, high grade....and cheap oil, so the recent high prices are probably not an abberation, but a harbinger of things to come.

My synopsis is thus: big changes are in the wind in the world of energy and since energy powers our economy and lifestyle, big changes are in store for Americans. Mr. Simmons thinks sooner rather than later.

Read more here on Mr. Simmons thesis

Immigrants Day....

Welcome to Immigration Day, the day when the poor downtrodden immigrants have spontaneously arisen to show their support for the American ideals of freedom and a better job. Well actually, it's "illegal immigration day" but let's not let technicalities spoil the fun. And truth be known, the spontaneous outpouring of support for immigration felons is not so grassroots but has been orchestrated by International ANSWER, which is a socialist organization. We used to know them as communists. Did you stop and think about why the spontaneous demonstrations were planned for May 1st? Remember those biggest of parades they used to have through the Kremlin in Moscow? It was called the May Day celebration, held on May 1st.

Separated at birth.....?

First of all let me say that we in Midland are proud of our homegrown talent, Eric Winston, who was taken in the 3rd round of the NFL draft by the Houston Texans. After a stellar career at Lee High School and the University of Miami it will be nice to see someone we are familiar with playing in the pro ranks. The Bride and Jack know Eric's little brother from various sporting events.

But did Eric's picture in today's sports section of the MRT remind anyone else of some other familiar characters?

An added benefit...

As far as volunteer activism goes I've never lived in a city where so many people give of their time, energy and assets as they do in Midland. I try to follow the example set by such friends as Pat and Joan Baskin and the late Dean Stoltz as well as my parents in giving something back. The people who give freely do it for several reasons I think. Foremost, they want to participate in something that may help someone else, they enjoy what they do and they enjoy the company of other like minded citizens. This truly is enough, but it does feel good to be noticed and honored with an award occasionally, even if one feels somewhat undeserving.

It was a day...

I don't feel like writing a long expose of the day today, perhaps some details later. But it was a busy and interesting day. I attended events at two organizations I love and support, the Sibley Nature Center and the Commemorative Air Force. An open house for patrons at The Sibley and a seminar at the CAF to hear Col. Joe Kittinger speak. I had dinner with the Colonel at a small affair last night, found him quite personable and didn't want to miss his talk today.

OK, so I'm going to write more than I intended but you'll want to know that Joe was the guy who tested most all of the high altitude ejection systems used to this day by NASA and modern military pilots. To do this he made many trips in balloons over the New Mexico desert in the late 50's and early 60's. No ordinary trips, most were over 75,000 ft. where Joe parachuted out until he hit 18,000 ft. were his main parachute opened. His most historic flight took him to the edge of space at an amazing altitude of 102,800 ft. where Joe bailed out in -100° temperatures. Because of the very limited air at this altitude he hit speeds approaching 700 mph, becoming the only person ever to break the sound barrier without a powered vehicle. His altitude and speed record still stands after 46 years. Use the link above to see the remarkable photo of Joe exiting the balloon on his final and highest jump. Joe joked that his commanders were very proud that he hit his ground targets within a quarter of a mile on most jumps. Joe says that this really didn't matter to him. His personal target was "anywhere in New Mexico, Earth".

As if this wasn't enough of a career, Joe later when on to fly threee combat tours in Vietnam, where on his last tour he shot down a MIG-21 and then sometime later he was shot down himself, landing in the infamous Hanoi Hilton for two years. Later Joe became the first man to solo a balloon across the Atlantic, going from Maine to Italy.

And remind me to relate to you at a later date the details of one of the funniest war stories I've ever heard. The one where Joe loaded up half a years supply of empty Pearl longneck beer bottles, over 10,000 by his count, into the bomb bay of his A-26 bomber, took off at night and flew over North Vietnam. Finding the biggest road he could locate he dropped down to under 100 ft. and opened the bomb doors. Having so much fun with this he did it 4 more times. He has always wondered what the hell the North Vietnamese must have thought, finding about a half mile of broken Pearl longnecks on their road.

And if this wasn't excitement enough for the day, when I arrived home from the CAF, there in my email box were not one, but two personal emails from Peter Noone. For those of younger ages, that is none other than Herman of Herman's Hermits. More on this later.....

What...the pond again?

One of the things I love about West Texas is the vastness of the interplay between the sky and land. Land of the High Sky is our old motto. And last night the sky was wide, high, vast and beautiful with thunderclouds made more beautiful by the setting sun. I'm a sucker for big thunderhead photos and since we live in a treescaped neighborhood I usually have to run down to the duck pond to capture the full sky in a photograph.

So.....please bear with me today's Picture of the Day is yet another view of clouds over the duck pond. And this time the limitations of my digital camera are evident, to me anyway. Being dusk I had to bring up the brightness and contrast thus losing some of the sharp clarity of the cloud features. I should have taken one of my 35mm cameras with the panoramic lenses.

Cheetah lives.....!

While browsing the blog of my web friend Neo-NeoCon, I was amazed to see that the original chimp star of the old 30's Tarzan films, Cheetah, is still alive at the age of 74! Not only alive but apparently doing quite well with an art career to boot! If you're like me you haven't thought of Cheetah in a very, very long time and one would have to assume that the chimp star would have died many decades ago. Finding and seeing the picture of Cheetah again was like finding an old friend.

Easter.....

Whether you are a devout Christian or just a person trying to do the best he can in life, Easter is a good time to reflect on becoming a better and more useful citizen of humanity. For some reason this morning as I thought about the day, some of the old sayings and proverbs that have meaning started to come back to me. Some from the Bible, some from Alcoholics Anonymous. Here are a variety in no particular order:

Gratitude is an attitude

First things first

Where there is hatred, let me sow love

Let go and let God

Yesterday is a cancelled cheque, tomorrow is a promissory note, only today is cash in the bank.

Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy

Grant that I may not so much seek to be understood as to understand

It is in giving that we receive

Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.

This too shall pass

Acceptance is the key to my serenity

If you desire many things, many things will be seem but a few

And from Mark Twain these gems....

Let us not be too particular; it is better to have old secondhand diamonds than none at all.

The best way to cheer yourself up is to try to cheer somebody else up.

If you pick up a starving dog and make him prosperous, he will not bite you. This is the principal difference between a dog and a man.

Wildflowers...

Today's picture of the day reflects Spring in West Texas. I have been intending to photograph this spectacular field of wildflowers every time I am at the Sibley Nature Center on business but have not had my camera with me when there. Today I made a special trip just to get the shot. Not entirely what I want as one day last week there was a beautiful thundercloud to the south which would have added a wonderful backdrop to the image, but the photographers life is never idyllic so I will settle on this early morning shot for now.

It is always nice when a family returns to Midland to visit their old home, a home were they lived as a young family just starting out on life's journey. Nice for the family and especially nice for the community when the family includes two Presidents of the United States and two state governors [don't forget Jeb].

President George H.W. Bush, wife Barbara and First Lady Laura Bush were all in attendance this afternoon when their newly restored home on Ohio St. in Midland was officially dedicated as The Bush Childhood Home. The Bush home has been restored to look much like it did in the later 1950's when they lived there for several years while President Dubya Bush was in elementary school. Much work and even more money has gone into refurbishing the home through funds raised privately within the community to honor not only the current President but also the senior Bush's for their service to community and country.

The dedication ceremony was nice with the Bush's and a few of their old friends from those days relating stories of the warmth and friendliness that Midland is reknowned for. A pleasant event. However here's a word for the organizers of the dedication. Next time you have an event don't put the raised media platform in front of the entire crowd. No one could see the speakers.

The Bush Childhood Home is only about one half a mile from the Bedford estate so we're hoping a few tourist drop by and notice our new roof repairs which, God willing, will take place next week.

Memories....

I mentioned a month or so ago that through the Internet I had found and contacted the two families who now occupy the homes in St. Louis where my grandparents lived and where my parents grew up. The current owners were nice enough and had promised to send photos of the homes that held so many memories for me. But, people are people, and to date I have received no images from them.

But coincidence does sometimes have a way of helping us along. While on my fraternity fishing trip last month I was reminded that of all things, one of my fishing buddies grew up in Webster Groves, Mo. Webster is the small township in St. Louis where my Mom grew up and is next to Kirkwood, home of my Dad. I asked my buddy if he still knew anyone in Webster who might take a picture or two for me. "No problem", Phil said, his sister Molly still lived there and he would put me in contact with her. And that he did.

Even more coincidentally Molly lives just one block over from the old home of my cousins and is a board member of the Webster Groves historical society. Stranger still she was born in the same hospital as my sister.....in Summit, New Jersey. Molly was more than kind in offering information about Webster Groves and Kirkwood, and was even familiar with my great grandfather's old homestead which is now an exclusive development known as Craig Woods. She said that she would love to take the photos, and that she did.

Here at 35 S. Rock Hill Road is the beautiful old home where my mother spent her high school days. And I suppose the front porch is where my Dad used to show up to take her down the street to the soda fountain. My parents met and started dating in high school. Met through my Dad's cousin Pat, who lived one block over from where Molly lives today. Strange.

Worth the effort.....

Like most photographers, I take pictures just for the pleasure of doing so, or to record moments I don't want to forget. The vast majority of photos never make it beyond my computer, a website or hanging on the walls of our home or my office, but sometimes things happen to make the effort all the more special.

Today I received an email from the secretrary of automotive racing legend Dan Gurney. Legend is a word too often thrown around in sports circles, but is the only word to describe Gurney, who for the last 50 years has driven sports cars, Formula One cars, NASCAR and Indy Cars with great success, in addition to designing and building cars and owning premier racing teams. He remains the only US citizen to win a Grand Prix in a car of his own construction. Dan is the first driver ever to win races in the four major categories of motorsports: Grand Prix, Indy Car, NASCAR and Sports Car. To this day he is one of only two drivers in history (the other being Mario Andretti) who have ever accomplished that.

What Kathy, Mr. Gurney's assistant, wanted to know in her email was whether I would sell them a photograph I had taken of Dan and the other luminary drivers that had attended the Chaparral Museum opening in 2004 here in Midland. A good shot of 7 of the sports premier figures such as Phil Hill and Gil de Ferran seated together on the panel with Gurney honoring Jim Hall. Apparently my Chaparral website had drawn their attention and Kathy got my email address therein.

I had to write back and tell Kathy that I was sorry that I could not sell the photograph to Mr. Gurney but that it would be my great privelage and honor to have one printed to give to him. And indeed it is just that......

History alive......

History came alive again yesterday at the Commemorative Air Force........the CAF. A large crowd was on hand to hear four WW II combat veterans of one of the greatest battles in American History, the Battle of the Philippine Sea, popularly known as the "Great Mariana's Turkey Shoot". This moniker describes what a complete rout was achieved over Japanese Air Power, American aviators shooting down close to 350 Japanese planes in just several days time.

What made yesterdays seminar so interesting was that these four men saw the battle from such different perspectives. One was a young officer on the submarine Cavalla which had screened the Japanese fleet and later singlehandedly sunk a large Jap aircraft carrier. After firing 6 torpedos at the Shokaku which later sank her, the Cavalla was depth charged for more than two hours by Japanese destroyers. Hearing this account from someone who was there was as dramatic as history gets! The Cavalla lives on still as a permanent history display docked in Galveston.

Another of the speakers had been an LSO [landing signal officer] on the carrier Lexington. Some amazing stories here too, like the mistaken attempted night landing by a Japanese Zero fighter plane. The Zero realized his mistake at the last moment and flew off into the night. One of the gentleman was a Naval fighter pilot who shot down several Japanese dive bombers, but his most tearful recounting came when he described his return at night, low on fuel, to his carrier. The order was given to the ships in the fleet to turn on their lights to guide the planes home, something not done in wartime operations. The joy the pilots felt seeing these searchlight beacons was so great that this veteran pilot still gets choked up when he talks about this over 60 years later.

The fourth member of the panel had been a gunner on a SBD dive bomber and got to watch the whole battle unfold while circling in a safe position away from the fleet 30 miles away. Not wanting to risk these planes staying on deck, the order had been given for them to launch and stay away from the action. This gentleman had, on a previous mission, been shot down over Truk Lagoon, was given a two week recuperation pass to Honolulu and then returned to his flying duties.

For one interested in aviation history, a more memorable experience could not be had. For those in Midland, you should try and attend these events, especially featuring these WWII veterans. These men were all in their early to mid 80's. Sadly they won't be around much longer.

In May, my good friend Joe Galloway will be the featured guest for a seminar on Vietnam helicopter aviation and the principal speaker for our Memorial Day program. Hope to see you there.

Act Naturally...

Country music legend Buck Owens is dead at the age of 76. Many people think of Buck first and foremost as the host and star of the corny but highly visible show, Hee Haw, which is sad. Buck was a forerunner of modern country music and originator, along with Merle Haggard, of the upbeat rockabilly Bakersfield sound. In fact Merle played bass in Owens first succesful band. His music influenced many famous recording artists including Emmylou Harris and the Beatles.

So long Buck thanks for the music, go get a Tiger by the Tail!

A picnic would be nice.....

In my younger days I used to relish cold weather. Now, two or three days of cold and gloomy weather like we've been having is about it for me. After my major surgery I find myself much less adaptable to the cold, or maybe the cold and wind. Perhaps too I'm just getting old. Nah, that couldn't be it.

But I do long for some warmer weather to soothe my soul. I can only harken back to today's Picture of the Day and remember the warmth of summer weather and a picnic with loved ones on the green grass of the estate. I too can remember when we had a nice yard with green grass for this picture was taken before D. Daphne Dog moved in. It's amazing how much damage a hyperactive canine can inflict on St. Augustine!

And a note here: I reserve the right to complain about the hot weather come August.

Roof Update:

1:05: I am sitting at home waiting for the representative of the roofing company from whom I got a bid last year. The roofing company who was supposed to be here last Friday afternoon. I called them this morning using my most bright and cheery voice to let them know that their man was a no show. The appointment today was for 1:00 o'clock. It is now 1:05. Dare they stand me up twice? More news later as it breaks.

1:30: Miracle of miracles, Brandon from Nxxxxxxx Roofing called to appologize for being late and is on his way to the estate. Can we dare hope that a solution is at hand for the roof?

1:40: Brandon arrives with no less than the owner of Nxxxxxxx Roofing. The word of my plight must be out. After a half an hour on the roof they descend with the joyful news that not only do we need repairs but really could do with an entirely new roof. Not a surprise to me really, but none the less hard to contemplate. Anyway they gave me a bid for repairs and one for a new roof.

1:45: I suddenly feel the need to go to bed!

My kingdom for a roof...

The last few days have been wonderful and a rarity in West Texas. A slow misting drizzle all day Saturday which is a God send for germinating grass and plants. Even the deluges of last night and again today were bearable for those of us with defective roofs because we know the ecosystem needed the moisture. Defective roofs do, however, take something away from the joy of rain.

Regular readers will be familiar with the travails of our roof here at the estate. A small leak gone malignant and turning the interior plaster in the den to mush. The interior repaired due to January visitors and a massive plastic sheet, sheets acutally, added to the roof to protect the repairs. So far with much alteration and attention this arrangement has worked fairly well, but a new roof without a Beverly Hillbillies effect would be nice. Not to mention cutting down on my worry during middle of the night downpours.

I admit I let the leak go too long without professional repairs but now that we're ready to go on that job, I have just one question. WHAT THE HELL IS THE MATTER WITH ROOFERS IN MIDLAND? I have only been able to get one bid, from a company who told me that they would be the highest, but the best. Fair enough, but prudence requires me to get at least one other estimate.

I did have one small company recommended to me and they came right out and promised to get a bid to me in a week and then do the work when the weather turned cooler. That was 9 months ago. I've called them 4 times since.....and still no bid. I next ran into an employee of the major roofer in town, owned by a friend no less, and this nice young man said he might do the job in "off hours" and he would be out the next day to offer a bid. No show, no bid.

Another company in Odessa was recommended by a neighbor. This company said that they would be in Midland the next week and would stop by to offer a bid. That was 3 weeks ago. So last week, in desperation, I called the original high bidder and said for them to come out and reassess the job and I would be ready to go. The estimator said he would be here last Friday or would call. I'm still waiting by the front door with my phone........

I would offer names here, but the Internet is a strange thing. With my luck one of these companies would see my mention of their dereliction and we will be blackballed from ever having roofing work done again. I suppose someone will finally make it out and do the job, I know the roofers are enjoying busy times, but I've never seen such shoddy business practices. It reminds me of the drilling business, where in bad times the drillers and service companies will be bringing donuts by the office every week begging for your business. Then when times do get busy, they won't return your calls.

Excuse me now, I hear thunder again so I've got to get up on the roof to check the plastic.

They say it's your birthday....

It's a birthday of sorts round about now. Not my natural birthday nor my AA birthday, but my Blog birthday. Streams is four years old this month. Actually I have been blogging since June of 2001 when I discovered Blogger and tried the format out starting as a place to record some of my dreams but then developing into a daily log for family and friends. Streams came later as the whole blogging culture blossomed and I decided to try my hand at it by building my own template. The rest is history. Some of my scribblings back then I find amusing and interesting now. I see on the Streams archives that four years ago this weekend I was doing exactly the same thing I am doing today. Cleaning up dust and leaves. Life is exciting in the fast lane!

Some fast computin'...

I finally got my new computer built and up and running. To say what a difference is putting it midly. The difference between a 1963 Chevy Nova and a Ferrari.

I had my friend Graylon of AGE Systems build it for me. I had in mind what I wanted, something very heavy into graphics and speedy, but not top of the Intel line speed so I got a 2.8 GHz processor which is fast enough for me. However, as I put in the order Graylon told me I could get a beefed up RAM for only $79 more than the 512 Mb I had envisioned. Beefed up meaning doubled at one full GB or RAM. We're cookin' with gas now.

Graylon was able to transfer all my files into Windows XP without any problems and many of my downloaded programs for which I had no discs. I did have to purchase a couple of my mainstay graphics programs like Paint Shop Pro, but at a discount since I had previously purchased them and this was not so bad a deal as most had been seriously upgraded since I had bought them years ago. The only drawback is that I now don't have the Microsoft office suite as I did have which means I'll have to fork over more dough to Bill Gates for the simple pleasures of Word and Excel©.

The main reason I was finally reconciled to get a new machine was that the old 1950's model Compaq was not really set up for broadband and networking. So, I got the new machine and the Brides networked through a router and we are now enjoying the speed of Grande.Com. Things are working well. I had to download a whole new software and driver bundle for my scanner to work with Win XP. A massive 38 Mb file which took only 10 minutes to receive. On dialup this would have taken all day.

I've been enjoying setting everything up on the new machine, finding nifty multimedia stuff Grayon stuck on for me and especially finding out that I could alter the entire look of the Windows XP system by changing the display to "Windows Classic". I didn't like the bright blue of the toolbars on XP and there is more viewable area using the "Classic". Besides I don't want to move into the 21st century too fast.

The Poultry Professor.....

Professor Robert C. Clark has died at age 84. Prof. Clark has undoubtedly had a profound influence on your life. He invented the chicken nugget and forever changed the landscape of eating habits for Americans, especially those under the age of 12.

Among other poultry based innovations were his invention of the chicken hot dog, a secret chicken barbeque sauce and various poultry cold cuts. Known as the "Edison of the poultry industry" Baker was inducted into the American Poultry Hall of Fame in January 2004 in recognition of his work in the agricultural industry.

Those that knew and worked with Prof. Clark said that alhough he was somewhat hen-pecked at home he was no dumb cluck and all in all he was a good egg.

Let's go fishing.....!

I am recently back from my annual fishing excursion with my fraternity brothers from Trinity University. This was our 31st annual "Let's go fishing" event. It had been since 2004 that I was able to participate. Last year, for the 30th anniversary, the group went to Costa Rica and by the pictures I saw, had a remarkable time. I was unable to go due to the recent surgery I had undergone at just months before the trip, but this year I was back among the fishermen.

I started going in the 80's when the group stayed at some modest little fishing cabins on the Colorado river in Bend Texas. Thankfully I was there only a couple of years before we graduated to accomodations more befitting our group. For the last 20 years we have been staying at the Carpenter Family Ranch on Greenwood Creek as pictured here. Ben Carpenter was a modest businessman in Dallas who owned such things at Southland Life Insurance Company and Las Colinas. He also has a freeway named after him. Greenwood is over 2000 acres on the river and has a gorgeous creek running next to the house. Mr. Carpenter died just weeks ago, so we are unsure of our continued use of his home, this may have been our swan song at Greenwood. It has been a perfect place to have a fishing reunion, centrally located and with serveral boats made available to us in addition to two full time cooks who lay on a mean spread at every meal.

The accomodations aside, it is a remarkable thing for us to have gone on the trip for all these years. The permanent group is comprised of 16 people with others having been in and out over the years. When we started going on the trip, some people had not even married yet and now they have grown children. We've watched each other age gracefully, mainly, but not without going through the trials of life with such things as divorces and alcoholism. Thankfully we now all seem to be on the gentle upward path and enjoying life. The event used to be a time for great revelry and some hard fishing hours, now we seem to enjoy taking hikes and talking. It's a great thing to arrive each year and start off once again like we had not even been apart. We even caught some fish this year!

Concussion C. Remorseful....

No one hates spammers more than I do, but I do wonder about these people. Where are they located and how do they think up the ridiculous names that appear in the "from" box. Perhaps they use this tool. And if you want to go into spamming you can use it too!

My spammer name is Concussion C. Remorseful.

Enter your name to get yours:

Oh Joy.....new tires!

Well I bought a new set of tires [tyres for UK readers] for the "silver bullet" today. I like the tires, they're very nice, but frankly if I'm going to shell out over $450 for something I'd prefer it perhaps not be something so, well utilitarian. You know, you wake up with tires on the car and you go to bed the same day with tires on the car, but suddenly you're out 450 bucks for the privelage.

I'm going on my annual frat brothers fishing trip this weekend, driving about 500 miles to and fro and the old ones were getting a little threadbare. The old models were Goodyear© Eagles and I was disappointed in the mileage that they had before they succumbed. They weren't terribly bad, but needed to be replaced. I know this because most of the time that the Bride and I went anywhere in my car she would point out the bad wear patterns with a look of concern on her face.

My vehicle has fairly wide rims so these tires were probably a little bit more than the average tire and even at that I eschewed the Goodyears in favor of the slightly more inexpensive B.F. Goodrich's. But still, $450. I still think tires ought to cost around $50 each. The salesman laughed.

12 years today...

I have been clean, sober and alcohol free for 12 years today. Such a miracle and another chance at life. There is a passage in the "AA Big Book" which says, "we do not wish to forget the past, neither do we dwell on it". Indeed. There is not a day that goes by that I do not remember what five years in hell is like and with gratitude in my heart I intend not to repeat it.

Thanks to all those who have made a difference over the years.......

Master Mechanic......

I received a call today from friend Jim Edwards at Chaparral Racing saying that they were stumped with a compression problem on one of their Pennzoil Indy cars and would I have a look. So out I went. First I had them strip the body covers and pull the engine. Then it was a simple matter of adjusting the boost level on the dweezle valve with a torque wrench. A piece of cake.

And if you belive that..... Actually I was out at Chaparral Racing for a visit and Jim was dismantling the car for some major maintenance. He asked me about how the work was going on the Bride's Yellow Bug [note: work? what work] and the discussion turned to how hard it is to work on one's own personal vehicle these days. Jim admited that he has to take his own vehicle in to the shop just to have the spark plugs changed. Here's a guy who can completely strip and rebuild an Indy car, but doesn't have the time nor patience to change his own plugs. Something's wrong with that picture. And that would be the amount of crapola that automotive engineers stick in ever smaller engine compartments. Remind me to tell you how they had to take the front end of my car apart just to change the battery. On second though, please don't, it brings back bad memories.

Saturday postscript: amazingly we were notified today that the Bride's Yellow Bug is fixed and ready to be picked up on Monday. I had said I believed that the problem was either a broken oil pump of clogged oil line. It was the later. So, the Bug had bypass surgery and hopefully all is well. At least until we get the bill.

Daily report....

It has been a busy week, not so much productive, as just busy with the realities of life. First, the vaunted Yellow Bug of the Bride developed a problem wherein it has no oil pressure. Fearing the worst if driven I trailed it in to one of the very few local shops that works on VW's where it sits even as I write. We have been sharing my auto or taking turns with it. How people in the prehistoric days of my childhood survived on one family car I can't recall, but it's amazing that there were not more acts of family violence involving cars back then.

Actually the car situation would be worse if not for our other problem of the week, a flu sticken child. Young Jack became very ill last Saturday and for safety sake he has been kept home, which has also kept the Bride home more than usual.

I'm glad to report that Jack is doing better, but was kept home again today because of a bad cough. I knew he was feeling better when I came home for lunch to check on things and found him ironing in his underwear while watching TV. You heard correctly, ironing in his underwear. His Mother's clothes no less. At least he had switched channels after four days of watching ESPN and was watching something educational. The Game Show Channel. We did, however, get to spend some quality time together watching a live car chase in L.A. on CNN.

One more day out of school for Jack, perhaps we'll get the Yellow Bug back and all will be back to abnormal normal.