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