Great Guns and Little Pistols! I have decided.
On a more serious note, a new Ozzie post is in the works.
“No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that is in the right and keeps on a-comin’.” Captain Bill McDonald, Texas Ranger.
Good guys wear white hats. And they never run out of bullets.
On a more serious note, a new Ozzie post is in the works.
Maybe I should go with the one of these.
The young man was wearing a knit cap. He also sported a nose ring. Not the bling bling type. He was wearing a full size hog ring between his nostrils. He said he was looking for a job that was close to his house so he could, “walk or unicycle to work.”
The man behind the counter gave him an application. Then the young man walked away into the night.
This begs the question: Was he really a unicyclist or a unicyclist impersonator? I don’t know which is worse.
This is why we can’t take ourselves too seriously. My grand father always says, “If you can’t laugh at yourself, then you can’t laugh at all these other clowns.” And who doesn’t laugh at clowns on unicycles?
Not all turkeys are this pretty. Some look better than others. Some taste better than others. A few thanksgivings back, Echotig cooked an ugly turkey. It was pale. It looked undercooked. To add insult to injury it had a large piece of torn skin across the breast, where the cooking bag stuck to it.
Echo is a good cook. She takes pride in the turkeys she cooks for thanksgiving. She took this way too hard. My cousin popped off and said it was ugly. He pops of a lot so nobody really paid attention, except Echo. She was hurt. Nobody wanted to eat her turkey.
There were many at this gathering. And there were four turkeys. It was a beautiful sight. My cousin Mike led us in prayer, then we lined up at the tables to fix our plates. My father took his place cutting the ugly turkey. I of course was going to eat nothing else. We were determined to make Echo feel better. Only three partook of this bird: Dad, Echo and Me. Nobody else wanted the ugly turkey.
Only three ate of the bird. Only three finished the whole thing. You see we have not been able to replicate this. This was one of those rare amazing accidents. This was indeed the best turkey I have ever tasted. On my first bite, I started to extol the natural wonder that was the ugly turkey. My father put his hand over my mouth and gave me the shut up look. The three of us ate with a feeling of mischief. Echo even told someone that it was no good. Normally I save a lot of room for desert. Not this year.
For many reasons, that will always be my favorite thanksgiving. And I will never neglect to sample the ugly turkeys.
We all have some people we look up to. I wanted to post about the one at the top of my list. You see there are some folks that a man looks up to and there are some folks that go beyond that. This is one man that I try hard to copy. It is wonderful when people recognize the characteristics in you that you strive for. It is good when you seem to be like the people you put on a pedestal. I have been called many things. Some of them good. Some of them bad. I have been called a straight shooter. I have been called colorful. Some of you have even called me "the genuine article." I must admit that any truth, any color or substance in me comes directly from the man I try to mimic. Even wearing the big white hat comes from him. This man is the genuine article. I am only a pretender.
This is Ozzie, my Grandfather. The baby is my mother. I know to the pride he is feeling here. These pictures mean much more when you have shared the experience. No Jimbo, the ’29 Ford is no longer around. I’m sure he was elated. Having a new baby in the house is a special kind of paradise for man. I’m glad he experienced this before going to the Pacific to fight a war.
Ozzie is a fantastic character. His way with words, his good judgment, his wisdom, and his mettle are exactly what I strive for. Some folks have goals for what they want to achieve. I have goals for who I want to be. My goal is to be like him. If only I could be half of what this man is, then I will be more of man than most.
This is the first of at least three posts on my Grandfather. Each of these will feature specific roles he has played in my life. These posts may or may not be sequential. My cousin (1st once removed) Rich, has posted about him here. We can attest that he has been a fantastic man for both of our generations.
The other day I put away the straw hat and donned the felt hat. Almost nothing feels as good as a felt hat. Today, I partook of another rite of passage. The picture shows my felt hat atop the stub that was a banana tree. A frost is likely tonight. Bananas trees don’t like frost much. Preparing them for cool weather is a rite of passage for me.
In the past I have just cut the whole tree down about ankle high. Then when Almost Summer rolls around I cut the rotten end off and the Tree starts growing again. One of my compadres cut off the leaves and wrapped his last year. This year he had 8’ trees by mid March. So now the broad leaves are cut. I used the leaves and feed sacks to wrap the trunks. I hope I get the same results my friend did.
The weather changes as time marches on. The clock ticks down on the game. I am far from the fourth quarter. But also far from a comfortable lead. I have to keep my head in the game. I must defend well and run up the score. Folks are relying on me. I don’t want to disappoint them. It aint bad though. I love this game.
Post Script: That good post I promised is still on the way. It is about someone special. He is alive and kicking so I want to get it just right. I need to digitize some pictures and shorten it a little. Adios.
Brian Jackson sported his big white hat with heroism. He was slain in a gunfight by Juan Lizcano (a scumbag that by all rights should have been in a Mexican jail). Brian was a Dallas Police Officer. Now Mr. Lizcano will have to face a
This is another example of how
I tip my hat in memory of Brian. He will find good company among the other heros in God's cavalry.
True friends come to the rescue. They give you what you need when you need it. They buy your groceries when you’re broke. They bail you out of jail (thanks Kevin). They take your keys away. They get where you need to be with their frequent flyer miles (thanks Brad & Alex). They mow your lawn when you can't (thanks Luciano). They help you pay the child support that you had no idea you owed (thanks
I don’t know about you but I need true friends to come to the rescue.
Sometimes acquaintances turn out to be true friends. Sunday morning this happened. I have been attending Church with Paul and his family for a while. We have never been close. But Sunday morning he scored a big white hat award.
We have decided to take Tiger back to church. The first week went well. This week was another story. He would not be quiet. I’m not talking about a few tics either. He was furious that I wouldn’t let him run wild. This meant serious fit throwing. I was taking him out of the auditorium during these fits. I went to a large hall, called the centrum, across the corridor. His fit could still be heard in worship. He was quite disturbing. I could not move him or leave him unattended. I could not stop the noise.
Just as I am on the brink of frustration, I hear click, click. The centrum doors are closing. What a relief! I look at the last door and Paul is closing it. I tell him thank you and he nods, winks and smiles. He knew just what to do.Thank you Lord, for true friends. You send them into our lives. They deliver your blessings like prophets of good will. Bless my friends God. They serve you well. Use me to give them what they need. Your humble servant in the big white hat.
Many of you who have been blogging with me for months have probably noticed some new names in comments. One of these is Little Miss Chatterbox. She typically does political stuff but made a thoughtful heartfelt value of life post.
I have some good stuff on the way this week. So, stop by from time to time.
My Grandfather says, “When you go to thinkin’, you weaken the ball club.” Yet lately I can’t help myself. I have been contemplating the pros and cons of finding my blood parents. I just can’t stop thinking.
Many adoptees feel incomplete. They look for their “real” parents to fill in a void. That isn’t me. I feel complete. My life is full. My real parents are the ones that made a man out of me. I am content with the family I have. I belong.
My motivation is different. I have something tugging on my heart. There is a stirring in me. It is strong. It hasn’t been there long but it is overwhelmingly strong. I can’t help but wonder if this is God’s Spirit leading me. Could it be that this is not about me at all? Could this be an undeniable calling? It sure feels like it. I don’t want to fill a void. I want to take this load off.
So why do a struggle with this? My life is full of troubles and I don’t want to add to them. I wonder if I am about to open up a can of worms. Would this put another strain on my family?
If this is a calling, I guess nothing else really matters. I’m not going to shirk my duty and hop a ship to Tarshish.
Lord, when I do your will, I am invincible. When I don’t, I’m a toddler walking through a war zone with a cap gun. So make it clear to me. What do you want me to do? Make me brave, strong, wise and pure. Bless me with your greatness because I am just a little fella in a big white hat.
You aren't really much of your own person, but everyone around
you wishes you'd go away, so you might as well be independent. You're
sort of loud-mouthed and abrasive, but you do have a fair amount of power. You like big trucks, big cattle, and big oil rigs. And sometimes you really smell. But it's not all bad, you're big enough to have some soft spots somewhere in all that redneck madness.
Sandy did this over at his place. It looked fun. Sort of mean though.