bigwhitehat

jeff

2006-07-09T18:12:00.000-05:00

some az pictures

2006-06-19T08:29:00.000-05:00

flowers

2006-06-03T08:23:00.000-05:00

zoe easter

2006-04-17T10:11:00.000-05:00

Staight Shooter Certificate.

2006-04-14T12:09:00.000-05:00

treetrunk

2006-04-11T22:02:00.000-05:00

Assumption of Control

2006-04-06T09:01:00.000-05:00

Big white has now moved to http://bigwhitehat.com I have assumed control of this blog. Why you ask? Because I can. I am Glenn Reynolds.

Pulled pork is the only real Bar B Que. Brisket? Indeed.

Moving my blog: updated

2006-04-04T00:37:00.000-05:00

I’m glad I’m moving my blog.

Blogger just sent me an email and a notice on my dashboard. It says my blog will be taken from me because it is a blight on the blogging community. They will be seizing my blog under eminent subdomain. They did not say how long I have.

My new Blog will be http://bigwhitehat.com
It has a few problems right now. But should be up and running well very soon.

Truth or Consequences

2006-04-02T23:11:00.000-05:00

Ok. I'm sorry that this is not about the game show or Bob Barker. It is about character and conscience.

From the time I was a small child, my parents taught me about right and wrong. At first they taught me using consequences. If I did wrong I had to deal with the consequences. Sometimes this was discipline sometimes it was dealing with my own mess. That is effective for a while. But that kind of parenting has an expiration date. If that is the only plan then children grow up to be as mischievous as they can get away with being.

There comes a time when one has to do what is right because it is right. A man of virtue loves virtue. Making decisions based on what is right, not what is allowed, is the earmark of virtue. So, am I a man of virtue? Will my children love virtue?

I think loving virtue and passing that love to my children is the very essence of being a father. Every person has some sense of right and wrong. Every person has a conscience. Not every conscience is armed with the weapons to combat temptation. My parents saw to it that my conscience had a full arsenal. My job is to do the same.

Apathy and cowardice are the natural consequence of not having that arsenal. It is easy to rationalize away the right thing because one’s conscience doesn’t have the ammunition to deal with a situation. This arsenal should be filled with sound teaching about right, wrong and why. Right and wrong can be rationalized away unless one has a foundation for why something is right or wrong. Our consciences are easily dismissed without that moral compass.

Lord God Almighty, bless me as I do what is right. Discipline me when I chose evil. Give me the strength to do right when it his hard to do. Fill my heart with fervor for righteousness. Bless my teaching to my children. May my example be good. Blind them to my weaknesses and accentuate my strengths. May my children have the wisdom and the desire to do what is right no matter what. Your teaching is perfect and revives the soul. May they love your precepts even more than I do.

Alternative Lyrics

2006-03-31T15:41:00.000-06:00

My sincere appologies to the Eagles.

Look at us baby, out all night
At th' karaoke bar
Aren't we the same two people who sang
Along in the car?
Ahh...
Every time I try to hit the highs
My cracklin' voice makes me realize
That I can't sing this high
I can't sing this high
I can't sing this high

When we get goin',
they just ain't right,
those notes out of my range

You know that I worry
This song aint tight
'Cause I sound strange

This song writer is killin' me
He made it harder than it had to be
and I can't sing this high
no, baby, I can't sing this high
I can't sing this high
No, no, baby, I can't sing this high
I can't sing this high
I can't sing this high

Jeff is Moonlighting.

2006-03-30T10:06:00.000-06:00

We have all known for some time that Jeff frequently, secretly wishes he was a Texan. But now we know which Texan. Jeff is sneaking around moonlighting as a Willie Nelson impersonator. Here he is singing Willie’s new hit, "Cowboys Are Frequently, Secretly (Fond of Each Other)". Man that Jeff can sing.

Meet a couple of new bloggers.

2006-03-28T22:25:00.000-06:00

In the midst of all the protests, I want to talk about something different. Yes we have trouble here at home but our fellas in Iraq, Afghanistan and elsewhere deal with bigger problems than these. So I would rather post about some of them.

I have become acquainted with two new bloggers in Iraq. Craig and Sean are both people with positive attitudes and superior character.

Craig is a contractor with KBR. His blog, “A Real Man,” is largely faith and character oriented. Naturally, I like that. I can’t admire people like him enough.

Sean is an NCO in the US Army in Tikrit. His blog, “i’m and idiot and these are my blitherings,” is about what ever crosses his mind. It has little glimpses into life in Tikrit and big insights on all types of stuff.

Neck Check

2006-03-27T22:23:00.000-06:00

Today I made several trips to the, “residential waste disposal.” My town is too classy to call it a dump. It is very interesting. My town’s landfill is in another town. So, the residential waste disposal is just a station where we take the items. Then they are sorted and disposed of appropriately by, “professional material specialists.”

First off, they did a thorough background check to make sure I was indeed who I said I was. And that I did actually reside in said municipality. Then I was allowed to dump my old mattresses, washing machine and other too big for normal pick up items. Some imposters were there trying to dump there, pretending to be from my town. They were promptly arrested and prosecuted for fraud.

Over all it was a pleasant experience. I’m surprised they don’t provide coffee and strudel.

All was well until it happened. I gave in to temptation and took the plunge into ultimate red neck status. I brought something back from the dump.

I couldn’t help it. There they were. Four perfect pot stands and matching terra cotta pots. I’m weak. I just couldn’t resist.

So now I have four spiffy planters lining the side of my front porch. Tomorrow I will fill them with some nice vincas. No doubt they will impress any annoying door knockers that will visit my home.

Valerie, do I need therapy?

I need a Mechanic

2006-03-26T23:46:00.000-06:00

The Preacher got to me this morning. He has a talent for doing just that.

Some preachers spend time, “staying up to date.” They cover the, “issues of the day.” I can respect that. But my preacher does something that I have learned to value more than that. He is a back to the basics kind of person. He likes to cover the basics of character.

Anger and violence are big part of my sordid past. Too often they are a part of my sordid present. I don’t want to share the details. Trust me. You don’t want to know anyway. Suffice it to say that it is a problem.

This morning the preacher talked about the check engine light on his car. He compared it to angry outburst. Anger is like a check engine light for the heart. That is what gets me.

I have been driving around with my indicator lights on for some time. I spend a lot of time trying to fix my own problems. That doesn’t always work our very well. Things I am willing to live with can be more destructive than I recognize. When the indicators lights come on, I have to go to the Soul Mechanic. I don’t have the training, equipment or the knowledge to fix it myself.

Create in me a clean heart O God. Fix these things in my soul before I blow a gasket. Remove my resentment as I forgive. Let the evil in me die and make me New. Live in me.

Buck

2006-03-26T03:04:00.000-06:00

Another one of the great American song writers is gone. I am really going to miss Buck. I’m not a big Hee Haw fan. But, Buck Owens' music was outstanding. Few poets can rival his wit. I tip the big white hat to the man.

Jason Finally Gets His Big White Hat Award

2006-03-20T05:08:00.000-06:00

I have been emailed countless times regarding Jason McElwain. Some of the emails come from other parents with autistic children. Some come from folks that don’t have autistic children but know that my Tiger is autistic. Some have come from folks that just loved the story and have no idea that I have an autistic child.

Many of you have asked what I think about this boy and what he did. I have been reluctant to post about it because of my mixed emotions. Revka posted about him and his meeting with the president. Because of our autistic children Revka has a special relationship with Echo and me. She did a fantastic job on that post.

I have mixed emotions because this boy did something special but there is too much pity tied up in the story. The main reason this affected so many is that pity. Pity is natural and I have learned not to resent it. After young Jason met with the president I realized how I shouldn’t worry about that pity. I shouldn’t worry about it because this young man’s actions fly in the face of that pity.

First the coach let Jason play out of pity. He wouldn’t have done it if it were not the last chance Jason had to play and the fact that the team had a very comfortable lead. Jason answered that pity with a 20 point demonstration of how he should not be underestimated.

I think Jason’s autism helped him in that game. If it weren’t for the real effort he put into learning to talk, he would not have the confidence he needed to shoot 6-3 point shots. If it weren’t for the difficulties he has behaving in a way that is unnatural to him to assimilate with all of us neurotypical folks, he would not have overcome his height disadvantage in that game.

Jason is an admirable young man. I admire his attitude. I would still admire his attitude autism or no autism. I admire his shooting skills and his ability to get open and shoot quickly.

I would never expect Jason to compete daily with most high school basketball players. He is too short to do that without Spud Webb talent. I do however expect him to have a happy productive life that contributes richly to our world. All of us have our place in this world. Jason has the mettle and determination to find his. I won’t dare underestimate him.

I think Jason meeting with President Bush is poetic. Both of them are underestimated all the time. That doesn’t bother either of them. Jason’s accomplishments are a testimony to his unrecognized ability. It moved me to see him with the fella that coined the phrase, “…soft bigotry of low expectations.”

So yes indeed Jason gets a Big White Hat award. Not because he is autistic. Not because he made the news. Not because played so well. He gets it because he is going to continue to manage the team in the post season. He is not eligible to play in the post season because he was underestimated during the season. He was underestimated by everybody maybe even himself. But his attitude keeps him from being angry about that. He just wants to help his team win. He will act like that all of his life. And that will get many a job done. I want him on my team. I wish I were more like him.

Hands

2006-03-18T09:54:00.000-06:00

As I sat with my daughter in my lap, one hand cradled the book. The other hand pointed out the words as I read. Memories raced through my mind in moments like those. I wandered to a simpler time and place. Not long ago I was in the lap of my father. His hands were doing the same thing.

His hands were huge to me then. I looked at them seeing the missing segment of his middle finger. The piece from the first knuckle to the tip was gone and his palm was very scarred. I asked him, “Daddy what happened to your hand?” He chuckled softly, “Somebody threw a fire cracker in my car. I thought I could throw it back.”

My father’s hands have done many things. He is one of the handiest people I know. Those hands are always up to something. Those hands swung hammers to build rooms and they swung belts to build character. Those hands squeezed pliers and they also squeezed tickle buttons. Those hands made a living and some of the things that make life worth living.

It is not at all unusual for me to reach out with my hand. On my hand would be a golden ring he crafted. My hand might grab a piece of candy he made with pecans he shelled after he picked them up off the ground. That candy might sit on a dish that he poured, cleaned, fired and finished. That dish might sit on a French provincial table he carved. You see he is quite handy.

My father’s hands don’t hoard the knowledge. They taught me to use a pencil, a hammer, a torch, a square, a spatula and just about anything else. He used to teach wood shop, jewelry and ceramics. He taught me so much about my own hands.

When my son brought me the remains of an irreparable toy, I told him I could not fix it. He said he would take it to my father, “He can fix anything.”

His hands are warm and friendly, steady and strong. I value that now more than ever. I have spent a great deal of time clinching my fists. I have put a lot of energy in learning to use my hands to fight. Now I need to use them for something different. My hands must be creative. My hands must be productive. My hands must become more like my father’s hands.

Thank You Lord for blessing me through my father’s hands. Bless my hands that they might serve you too.

Blogger is having Trouble

2006-03-17T08:46:00.000-06:00

This is on behalf of Clew and Espella Humanzee.

Their blogs are inaccessible right now. Both return either an under construction message or a 403 forbidden on this server message. This trouble is happening all over the blogspot domain.

I have just about outgrown blogger, myself. I have retained the services of The Mighty and Powerful Ogre. He is designing bigwhitehat.com. I don’t know when I will move but feel free to check out how it looks. I understand some folks using older versions Internet explorer are currently getting a messed up page. I would like your input on how it looks. Please remember it is far from finished. Ogre still has some work to do then I will have to make the move including moving my posts and blogrolls. Then setting up my categories and the like.

Help me chose my new Profile Picture.

2006-03-14T17:58:00.000-06:00

I need a new profile picture. Here are a couple I'm looking at. Do you like either of them? If so, which one? Why?

Email from Iraq.

2006-03-13T14:51:00.000-06:00

I love getting e-mail from Iraq. The folks over there have such a fantastic attitude. Their dedication to freedom is only surpassed by their love for others.

This morning I exchanged a couple of e-mails from someone in Iraq that reads this blog and Darlene’s blog. He asked me to pray for a couple of specific things. First, he asked me to pray for the convoys. Most of the war injuries are related to transporting goods and people. Second he asked me to pray for the wives of men in Iraq. Many of them flake out under the pressure of having a husband in a distant war zone. Some desert their husbands prior to their return, especially when he is returning injured. I for one don’t think they do this solely from a lack of character. I think some of them crack up under the stress.

I know for certain that God will intervene and provide comfort and peace to these ladies if we ask Him. God also watches over people in harms way. He likes to hear from us. He likes it when we are concerned for these folks.

Later I will post a prayer or two about these things.

For now, I’m happy to be getting e-mail from the Middle East.

Bored

2006-03-12T18:23:00.000-06:00

As many of you know. I have been posting stuff just to frustrate, irritate and enflame certain trolls. It was fun while it lasted but now I am bored of them.

I didn’t start blogging to toy with trolls. I started blogging because I had some things to say that I think folks actually want to read. I have continued blogging because I like it when folks are moved by something I wrote.

I figure there are certain things people come here looking to find. Lately they haven’t been able to find it here. No laughter, no tears and no joy to be found. That simply won’t do. Sure I will still get ornery from time to time but I’m bored of it now.

So, I think I should do the last Ozzie post. I think I should start posting about some women who have changed my life. I think I should do a nice tribute to my folks. I think I should make fun of my teen age daughter. I think I need to get back to puppy dogs, windmills and sunsets.

What do you think?

I miss the music.

2006-03-09T09:07:00.000-06:00

Dallas needs a Classic Country station. Given the size of this market, the heritage and demographics of this place, I can’t figure out why we don’t have one.

When we took our road trip we tuned into a station having a classic country weekend. We were using the scan button and stopped when I heard Conway Twitty. Then it happened. Somebody knew what I wanted to hear. Everything That Glitters started to play.

I have grown to love much of the music that I once took for granted. Among the most under appreciated artists is Dan Seals. He is a true wordsmith and a fantastic songwriter.

When I was a kid listening to more Metal than Country my favorite song of his was Addicted. It sort of described the way I felt about my own love life. Big Wheels in the Moonlight appealed to the wanderlust in all of us country fans or not. My Daddy’s favorite was always My Baby’s Got Good Timing. I think everyone reading knows enough words to One Friend to sing along. I listen to You Still Move Me and it still does.

One little song can send me back to my Daddy’s shop in Odessa Texas in 1985. Those days are gone. But, I am going to download a bunch of old songs. I hope I have money in the bank if ever come across a 1983 Oldsmobile Delta 88. I don’t think I could resist buying a time machine. Each time I travel back I get Love On Arrival.

The Exception/ Accomplice

2006-03-08T21:01:00.000-06:00

This is not actually my neighbor’s cat. But it looks just like him. The neighbors cat is the exception to the rule with my dogs. This cat can not only enter the yard but eat, sleep and play with the dogs.

One might think that a cat like this must have gained this status by winning a fight with the dogs. Not so. They liked each other from day one.

This cat is huge. I’ll bet he weighs at least twenty pounds. The reason I don’t have an authentic picture is that he is camera shy. If I have no camera he will rub against my calves. If I take out a camera he is gone in a flash.

You might think that he is all cuddles. You would be wrong. He is also a skilled hunter. He is sure death to any mice, squirrels or baby possums that might be in the area. But it gets worse. He is also a skilled fighter. He sends other tomcats running away within seconds of seeing them. He has a more sinister streak than this.

The first two times I found dead cats in the yard, he stood on the fence looking. The last time when I actually saw the kill he was also watching. Prior to this I was in the front yard pulling weeds from the Callas. I heard a cat fight then the dogs barking. I ran back to see the trouble and I saw the end of a fluffy cat. There he was, watching. I have no doubt that he chased the poor creature into the yard. When I called the dogs off and picked up the poor thing, big boy ran away as if he was guilty.

I guess this is a rough neighborhood.

Duo of Death

2006-03-07T09:01:00.000-06:00

These are our dogs.

Summer.

Clifford. No, we did not name him. He is a second hand dog.

They look adorable. They act adorable. But my family knows the truth. These cute little canines put up quite the front. These little doggies appear to be harmless but God help the cat or squirrel that makes it into the back yard. This is highly skilled hunting duo.

Clifford runs interference while Summer gives chase. The intruders meet their doom in a couple of different ways. I saw one of the cats come to an abrupt end when it went for the fence. Clifford blocked its other egress. Summer pulled it right off the fence. One quick shake and it was all over but the crying.

The squirels are even more interesting. Summer will chase the squirrel up the slanted willow tree in our back yard. Clifford climbs the slanted trunk barking as a mighty hound. By the time the squirrel is three feet from the ground, chomp!

Looks can be deceiving.

Road Trip

2006-03-05T15:02:00.000-06:00

We planned to go to see my Mother in Law in Kentucky. That didn’t pan out. Sometimes a change in plans is quite the blessing. We had one fantastic day.

Echo and I decided to go to Waco. Most Americans hear Waco and think of David Koresh. But, Waco is far more than that. Waco is a fantastic spectacle of Texas History. It is the quintessential Old West town. Even though parts of it look like anywhere else, a theme of winning the west is ever present.

We started off at the Texas Ranger Museum and Hall of Fame. I grew up on stories about Frank Hamer and Manuel T Gonzaullas so this is pretty special to me. I have decided to make this trip without the children sometime so I can truly soak it in.

We pulled into the parking lot and I went into the visitor’s center because we did not know where to go eat. The lady pointed me to the typical stuff we could get anywhere. I asked, “Don’t you know of something unique and local that I can’t find 50 of in Dallas?” Her face lit up and she drew directions on a map with a highlighter, “You will love this place.”

We then all stretched our legs and made our way to the entrance. We were greeted in the lawn by a statue of George B. Erath. Then, we made our way inside. The outstanding thing about this museum is the character of these men. At the crux of their character is a quote from Capt. Bill McDonald, “No man in the wrong can stand up against a fellow that is in the right and keeps on a-comin’.”

After the museum we went to eat at a little place called Buzzard Billy’s. The food was good but the company was better. There is nothing like getting the family away from the house.

Echo posted about our afternoon. Suffice it for me to say, Dr Pepper is a wonderful legacy of the Old West too.

We left in the late afternoon to join my parents, grandparents, great nephew, aunt and uncle a few miles away. My Aunt and Uncle have a Hill Country hideaway that I saw for the first time. It is spectacular.

We had an amazing day.

Adorable Little Vermin

2006-03-03T23:57:00.000-06:00

A few years back we were living in Winters Texas. When you live in Winters, you typically shop in Abilene. We would all load up and head to town. No as you can imagine, a bunch of small children and Wal-Mart are a bad combination. So we came up with this solution: drop me and the children off at the park while Echo does the shopping.

Abilene has some fine parks. The one we chose was pretty nice. It had a top notch playground and was quite large. It also had a fantastic feature: a two foot tall concrete wall that encompassed a prairie dog village. This kept the little critters out of places where they would be a nuisance and made a nice little spectacle.

Now I love March. I love it because I am and have always been a kite flyer. I like two string kites so I can control them. At this time I had a dandy. A black and purple Beetle with a high wind package. So the children were on the playground and I was steps away flying the Beetle. I was flying it close to the prairie dog village.

No surprise. The kids forsook the slides and swings to come to see the show. As long as the kite stayed high in the sky, the villagers were contently going about their busy little lives. But with every swoop, came utter mayhem. As soon as they all resurfaced, swoop! All of the children, mine and the rest, came to laugh in sheer schadenfreude. Now that’s entertainment.

P.S. Check out Stacy's new job.

Texas

2006-03-03T08:33:00.000-06:00

I missed posting this on time. In honor of the Great Lone Star State, here is the declaration of Texas' independence. As you can see the spirit is older than the republic. Enjoy and God Bless Texas.

When a government has ceased to protect the lives, liberty and property of the people, from whom its legitimate powers are derived, and for the advancement of whose happiness it was instituted, and so far from being a guarantee for the enjoyment of those inestimable and inalienable rights, becomes an instrument in the hands of evil rulers for their oppression.

When the Federal Republican Constitution of their country, which they have sworn to support, no longer has a substantial existence, and the whole nature of their government has been forcibly changed, without their consent, from a restricted federative republic, composed of sovereign states, to a consolidated central military despotism, in which every interest is disregarded but that of the army and the priesthood, both the eternal enemies of civil liberty, the everready minions of power, and the usual instruments of tyrants.

When, long after the spirit of the constitution has departed, moderation is at length so far lost by those in power, that even the semblance of freedom is removed, and the forms themselves of the constitution discontinued, and so far from their petitions and remonstrances being regarded, the agents who bear them are thrown into dungeons, and mercenary armies sent forth to force a new government upon them at the point of the bayonet.

When, in consequence of such acts of malfeasance and abdication on the part of the government, anarchy prevails, and civil society is dissolved into its original elements. In such a crisis, the first law of nature, the right of self-preservation, the inherent and inalienable rights of the people to appeal to first principles, and take their political affairs into their own hands in extreme cases, enjoins it as a right towards themselves, and a sacred obligation to their posterity, to abolish such government, and create another in its stead, calculated to rescue them from impending dangers, and to secure their future welfare and happiness.

Nations, as well as individuals, are amenable for their acts to the public opinion of mankind. A statement of a part of our grievances is therefore submitted to an impartial world, in justification of the hazardous but unavoidable step now taken, of severing our political connection with the Mexican people, and assuming an independent attitude among the nations of the earth.

The Mexican government, by its colonization laws, invited and induced the Anglo-American population of Texas to colonize its wilderness under the pledged faith of a written constitution, that they should continue to enjoy that constitutional liberty and republican government to which they had been habituated in the land of their birth, the United States of America.

In this expectation they have been cruelly disappointed, inasmuch as the Mexican nation has acquiesced in the late changes made in the government by General Antonio Lopez de Santa Anna, who having overturned the constitution of his country, now offers us the cruel alternative, either to abandon our homes, acquired by so many privations, or submit to the most intolerable of all tyranny, the combined despotism of the sword and the priesthood.

It has sacrificed our welfare to the state of Coahuila, by which our interests have been continually depressed through a jealous and partial course of legislation, carried on at a far distant seat of government, by a hostile majority, in an unknown tongue, and this too, notwithstanding we have petitioned in the humblest terms for the establishment of a separate state government, and have, in accordance with the provisions of the national constitution, presented to the general Congress a republican constitution, which was, without just cause, contemptuously rejected.

It incarcerated in a dungeon, for a long time, one of our citizens, for no other cause but a zealous endeavor to procure the acceptance of our constitution, and the establishment of a state government.

It has failed and refused to secure, on a firm basis, the right of trial by jury, that palladium of civil liberty, and only safe guarantee for the life, liberty, and property of the citizen.

It has failed to establish any public system of education, although possessed of almost boundless resources, (the public domain,) and although it is an axiom in political science, that unless a people are educated and enlightened, it is idle to expect the continuance of civil liberty, or the capacity for self government.

It has suffered the military commandants, stationed among us, to exercise arbitrary acts of oppression and tyrrany, thus trampling upon the most sacred rights of the citizens, and rendering the military superior to the civil power.

It has dissolved, by force of arms, the state Congress of Coahuila and Texas, and obliged our representatives to fly for their lives from the seat of government, thus depriving us of the fundamental political right of representation.

It has demanded the surrender of a number of our citizens, and ordered military detachments to seize and carry them into the Interior for trial, in contempt of the civil authorities, and in defiance of the laws and the constitution.

It has made piratical attacks upon our commerce, by commissioning foreign desperadoes, and authorizing them to seize our vessels, and convey the property of our citizens to far distant ports for confiscation.

It denies us the right of worshipping the Almighty according to the dictates of our own conscience, by the support of a national religion, calculated to promote the temporal interest of its human functionaries, rather than the glory of the true and living God.

It has demanded us to deliver up our arms, which are essential to our defence, the rightful property of freemen, and formidable only to tyrannical governments.

It has invaded our country both by sea and by land, with intent to lay waste our territory, and drive us from our homes; and has now a large mercenary army advancing, to carry on against us a war of extermination.

It has, through its emissaries, incited the merciless savage, with the tomahawk and scalping knife, to massacre the inhabitants of our defenseless frontiers.

It hath been, during the whole time of our connection with it, the contemptible sport and victim of successive military revolutions, and hath continually exhibited every characteristic of a weak, corrupt, and tyrranical government.

These, and other grievances, were patiently borne by the people of Texas, untill they reached that point at which forbearance ceases to be a virtue. We then took up arms in defence of the national constitution. We appealed to our Mexican brethren for assistance. Our appeal has been made in vain. Though months have elapsed, no sympathetic response has yet been heard from the Interior. We are, therefore, forced to the melancholy conclusion, that the Mexican people have acquiesced in the destruction of their liberty, and the substitution therfor of a military government; that they are unfit to be free, and incapable of self government.

The necessity of self-preservation, therefore, now decrees our eternal political separation.

We, therefore, the delegates with plenary powers of the people of Texas, in solemn convention assembled, appealing to a candid world for the necessities of our condition, do hereby resolve and declare, that our political connection with the Mexican nation has forever ended, and that the people of Texas do now constitute a free, Sovereign, and independent republic, and are fully invested with all the rights and attributes which properly belong to independent nations; and, conscious of the rectitude of our intentions, we fearlessly and confidently commit the issue to the decision of the Supreme arbiter of the destinies of nations.

Spayed or Neutered

2006-02-28T22:31:00.000-06:00

"I am not only uninterested in having children. I am opposed to having children. Having a purebred human baby is like having a purebred dog; it is nothing but vanity, human vanity." Ingrid Newkirk founder of PeTA

I thank God Almighty that this woman has removed herself from the gene pool.

Gruffest Billygoat Update

2006-02-28T13:50:00.001-06:00

The IP ban list has grown a little. If you can ban IP addresses from commenting but have not, I assure you these IPs belong to nasty little Trolls that you don't want in your comment threads. If you can and do ban IPs, take a look and help yourself. If you have Blogger comments you still have the trash can button and comment moderation to help you out. Be vigilant because there is just no telling what will crawl out from under the bridge.

65.110.230.200

24.9.243.169

70.92.127.65

69.231.187.51

24.126.246.190

207.200.116

69.144.158.58

172.194.72.188

12.110.14.162

70.110.105.191

69.231.127.60

24.126.254.45

Time for a Big White Hat Award

2006-02-26T12:52:00.000-06:00

This one is long over due. When a person moves to Texas they need to spruce up a little. Ted Nugent is now a Lone Star Treasure. Texas is glad to have him. Though his signature camo cowboy hat looks good, here is a Big White for him. He deserves it.

This man goes on safari in Africa and stops to teach local tribal people how to hunt so that they don’t have to starve. He uses his celebrity and his personality to preach against drug abuse. He reminds hunters that conservation is our God given duty. He entertains our warriors by doing USO shows.

I also respect him for doing what he loves. He turned playing a Gibson Birdland into a multi million dollar business. It seems he has always done what he loves. What a fantastic character.

Hungry?

2006-02-24T23:52:00.000-06:00

Since I am blogging on my lunch hour, I’ll blog about food. There used to be a Chicago style Hot Dog place in my neighborhood. It closed down. It has been a while. Many of you don't know anything about these hot dogs. Many of you look at the picture and think, "Yuck! A hotdog is not supposed to have tomatoes and peppers!" Many of you need to try it. The Chicago style Hot Dog is a treat to be enjoyed as it comes. Don't custom order it. Don't get anything on the side. The hot dog was invented in Chicago. They do it right. What West Texas has done for Fajitas, Chicago has done for the hot dog. You can't improve on perfection.

It starts with a poppy seed bun. Then add an all beef sausage (Vienna Beef is the traditional brand). Next, Mustard, PickleWedge, relish, Tomato Wedges and Sport Peppers. The Peppers are the key. Finally top with Season Salt (Celery salt is also traditional).

Hat Tip to Rush for the idea.
Hat Tip to Allen Brothers Steaks for the picture.

Available Light

2006-02-20T21:38:00.000-06:00

No. I am not selling a Jeep Cherokee. However, this picture has some personal significance. A few days ago I promised Alex (my 9 year old) that we would go take some pictures. So today I put a digital point and shoot in his hand. We went to an old park. He likes cars and took several pictures of them. I was impressed that he composed so well. I looked on the view screen and remarked, “You did a good job son.” He said, “I wanted the jeep to fill up the whole picture.”

He then had me pose in front of an old electric commuter train. “Stand there and turn your head to me. Got it!” He really seemed to have a grasp of what to do.

After a while we walked across the parking lot to the train station. He was anxious to take pictures of a bronze horse sculpture. He was terribly interested in the little bronze fly.

He peered up to the big bronze face. He thought it would be funny to get a tail shot. He was terribly disappointed when he missed the mocking bird that was only two feet away.

A camera can bring things out of a person. It can bring out the wonder of world around you. It can exegete the creativity that has been buried. We have photoshop. We have fancy studios. We have our wild imaginations. But nothing can compare with what we find naturally. Nothing beats viewing this world in the available light. Especially when the light comes from the spirit of a child spending a little one on one time with Daddy.

I am convinced that the wonders of this world are there for a reason. I’m not talking about Giza or the Colossus of Rhodes. I’m talking about the fantastic design of a snowflake. I’m talking about the humbling Pacific winds on the Oregon Coast. I’m talking about the breath taking sunsets of West Texas. I am convicted that God Almighty put things on this earth for my personal enjoyment. One of those things is the look on my son’s face as he comes to the same conviction.

A big white hat tip to Mountain Mama.

Like Steve says, God is Good.

Trolls, Treasure Trolls and how to deal with them.

2006-02-18T09:37:00.000-06:00

Most of us have dealt with trolls. They find us by using search engines, hopping links or chasing back comments we have made. Most of them have no blog to call their own. Some do. Most of us delete their comments. Some of us block their IP addresses from our comments.

I have come into contact with a type of troll which is new to me. These are not the semi anonymous non-blogging variety. These are not the anti-something liberal stoppers by who think they can pick a fight and win. This species is special. I call them treasure trolls.

Treasure trolls can have many identities, even multiple parody blogs. They are ruthless in their commenting. These treasure trolls think they have us all figured out. They try so hard to get into our heads. The sad thing is it seldom works.

My latest encounter is Bettie Jo. I am pretty sure that Bettie Jo is also Philbert and Esperanto Manimal. I picked up this one from my buddy Espella Humanzee. The multiple personalities make this one a real treasure. The Esperanto personality is really good. It is a full fledged parody of Espella. I personally feel this is flattery. It may not be as good as the Texas Monthly Bum Steer Awards. But it is good flattery none the less. Fools insults are always good flattery.

These days trolls have taken to changing IPs on a regular basis. Many are college students with access to many computers. This being the case, I have adopted new tactics. I have started to edit their comments very creatively. Also I will post comments under their identities. These comments are typically calculated to infuriate them. Upon seeing this happen the trolls go away in a big hurry.

I must point out that the comment threads on my blog belong to me. They exist for my own pleasure and I can do what I want with them. The comment threads on your blog belong to you. You may also do whatever you please with them.

Posting IPs is also a big help to other bloggers. I know many of you want to comment here freely without fear of picking up trolls. Here are some IPs you may want to ban:

65.110.230.200

24.9.243.169

70.92.127.65

69.231.187.51

24.126.246.190

207.200.116.

12.110.14.

69.144.158.58

172.194.72.188

12.110.14.162

24.9.243.169

71.246.178.186

69.231.118.241

If you are a troll, don't think you're guaranteed a link. These trolls are special.

For Marriage and Freedom

2006-02-14T00:28:00.000-06:00

I don’t really know the truth. History and antiquity are fairly vague. So, I will share with you the story I was told as a child.

During the reign of Claudius II, a decree was issued by the emperor. No young men of military eligibility and no single soldiers could marry. Claudius felt that single soldiers were better soldiers and he had little respect for the institution of marriage. More than that, Claudius II held the philosophy that the empire existed for the purpose of bringing him prestige and wealth.

Valentine was a Christian who thought that the emperor’s prestige and wealth existed for the purpose of giving peace, order and freedom to Romans. He married soldiers and their brides according to Christian rites in defiance of the emperor. He felt in this case, it was more important to follow God than men. Valentine rejected the notion that the emperor was deity. He saw the emperor as a servant of God not a god himself. He saw marriage as an institution established by God. Marriage was above the control of a little man in a toga with leaves on his head.

For this Valentine was jailed and sentenced to death. His own wife had died years before. He fell in love with the jailer’s daughter who brought him food and company. Knowing his doom was certain, he wrote a letter to be given to the young lady after his execution. The signature read, “from your Valentine.”

Valentine is a hero of old lore. I don’t know if the story is myth or fact. Pope Gelasius declared February 14 the day, the date of his execution, to honor this man. In 1969 the Roman Catholic Church dismissed it as an official holiday.

What is more romantic than the story of a faithful idealist who died in love and for marriage and freedom? Happy Valentine’s Day, my friend. May God bless your life with love and your marriage with romance.

Mi Trabajo

2006-02-12T19:50:00.000-06:00

The most satisfied people in the world are the ones that do what they love. How fantastic would it be to actually make your life’s work, your work? If you can’t find a sense of purpose in your day, are you leading that life of quiet desperation Thoreau warned us about? How do we come to realize the value of our work? Is our work truly valuable?

Friend, we write these posts because we wish to express ourselves. We get pleasure when folks express appreciation for what we say. We get upset when folks say something hurtful about what we say. We say. We share. That is why we are here.

I have determined that some of us have more to say than others. Some folks blog a little then quit. That is fine. They said all they cared to. We have to be content to enjoy what they offered and move on. Others are never spent. They write post after post or book after book. They paint picture after picture. They give speech after speech.

From an early age I talked too much. I drew too much. I wrote too much. I still do. I think I always will.

I like my job. I accomplish things there. But, it is not what I want to do. I want to express myself. Right now I fix equipment. I want to write things people want to read. Now, I write comments about how I fixed the equipment. I want to create. I currently maintain. I want to find interesting people. I currently hunt down contaminants. I want to get up early in the morning. Right now I go to bed late in the morning.

So step by step I am changing what I do. I am going to make the creative outlets pay off. Today’s step: I’m buying a camera. I’m getting a mid priced camera that is suitable for personal and professional use. For me, this is better than paintbrush or a chisel. I love photography. I’ll be working with the best light expert in the business. He has been doing this work since DAY ONE. He is really creative. This is all of course, contingent on my wife letting me have the camera for a minute or two.

Unicyclist Update

2006-02-10T16:14:00.000-06:00

Back in November I posted a unicyclist story.

The question was, "Is this a unicyclist or a unicyclist impersonator?"

I have an update. Wednesday evening Jason approached me at work. He had a wild look in his eye. I asked what kind of mischief we were about to get into.

He said, “I’ve seen him.”

“Whom?” (Yes, I actually use the third person inquisitive.)

“The Unicyclist!”

“The one with the face like a fishing lure?”

“It is more like a tackle box.”

“So was he……?”

“I was driving in to work and I saw him out of the corner of my eye. He was peddling away on that contraption. He really is a unicyclist.”

“I wonder if he has a job yet. Maybe he is still looking.”

I told Echo about it. She looked at me with a shocked countenance. “I saw him here in Plano with the unicycle in his hand. He was applying for a job at target.”

We have dubbed him, Tackleface. I will be lurking around to get pictures soon. I want Tackleface to run for mayor. This dude could be to Dallas, what Leslie is to Austin (just not in drag).

The Music Died

2006-02-08T07:57:00.000-06:00

I know rants are not my forte. Today I have to rant. What happened to country music? How did we go from Keith Whitley to Honkytonk Badonkadonk?

I was a teen in the eighties, I listened to more metal than country. But, I can remember being able to tune into a country station and hear something decent. Now I can choose any country station on the dial and give up before they play a song worth my time. Most of the songs sound like a parody making fun of me. Little of it appeals to me in the least.

The clever lyrics and smooth melodies have given way to Top 40 with a twang. Even accomplished artists have gone the way side. I heard a song from Merle Haggard that was so political and antiwar that I think he has become one of the hippies he used to despise.

So until somebody starts classic country stations in Dallas I am confined to my own collection. Shame. A little part of America seems to have died.

Shhhhhh

2006-02-06T20:02:00.000-06:00

I am particularly ornery tired and mean this evening. I want quiet. I don’t want to listen to anything. I am not merely disgusted with noise. No, I have a distain for words.

I want to have a quiet evening. I want this more and more lately. Quiet.

I don’t want it as a lifestyle. I just want one quiet moment. I want quiet time with God and my wife. The beautiful thing is we don’t even have to speak. We can communicate without making a sound.

So excuse me. A quiet place is only three bedtimes away.

A little work week fun.

2006-02-02T16:23:00.000-06:00

I had a little fun with some visitors today. I went to sleep as soon as I got home this morning. About eleven o’clock the doorbell rang. I got up and stumbled to the door. I crack open the door and look outside. Two very attractive Hispanic ladies are standing outside wearing Sunday dresses.

I say hello. They say that they are Jehovah’s Witnesses and ask if there are any Spanish speakers in the house. Somehow in my stupor pure comedy comes right out, “Nadie habla español aquí.” They looked at each other in total confusion, then thanked me and let me go back to sleep.

Last night Jason, my coworker, had some more fun with Roxxanne.

I get a text page reading, “BWH, when you see me, will you please tell me what ‘bull way’ and ‘up dog’ mean. Jason keeps asking me about them and I don’t know what they mean. He said to ask you. Roxxanne.”

Later Roxxanne comes over to where I’m working. Jason is lurking and watching. “BWH, what’s up dog?” I reply, “Not much dog. What’s up with you?” She gets that one and scowls a bit. “Ok, what’s bull way?” “A bull typically weighs at least a thousand pounds.” “A thousand pounds of what?” “Beef, Roxxanne. Beef.” “ Uh, I still don’t get it.”

Before it is all said and done, Roxxanne will get as mean as we are. She's probably going to leave me a nasty comment.

A LittleTaste of What I'm Cooking.

2006-01-31T12:01:00.000-06:00

I know my posts have been a little inferior lately. It is because I have been preoccupied.
Here is a very rough draft of chapter one.

Most people call me Butch. I don’t know why. I don’t know who started calling me Butch. My mother named me Shannon. I don’t care for that name. I’m not a girl. I don’t like that girly name. So Butch is fine.

I’m not like Butch on the li’l rascals. I’m not that tough. I used to think I was but I’m not. My daddy says a man has to know his limitations. Boy, is he right.

My daddy works a lot. He works for Norton Drilling Company. They sponsor my football and baseball teams. He has a company pickup. It is a 1979 Chevy Silverado. I still don’t understand how it can be a 1979 model since it is still 1978. I hate riding in the bed. He has to haul Wooly Booger grease in the bed. Man, is it nasty back there.

We live in a trailer house behind my Uncle David and Aunt Lilly. We all live close to the road. Grandpa William on the other hand lives in the middle of the farm in the old homestead house. People call him Dub. Our trailer is nice but it is next to the stables. Sometimes the horses get noisy at night. It could drive a man to drinking.

Daddy was out working on a rig for three weeks. I was in the kitchen eating some raisin bran. Aunt Lilly was coming up to make sure I was up and getting ready for school. Our back porches face each other. There is a gazebo with a barbecue pit in the middle of the yard. That gazebo is pretty tall but, Aunt Lilly’s head is easily seen across it. She is very tall. But she doesn’t seem to like that. Uncle David says she is five foot thirteen inches. She poked her head in the screen door.

“Butch honey, do you have clean clothes to wear?”

“Yes ma’am. But, I need to do some laundry tonight.”

“Honey, I’ll wash you clothes tonight. Right now I just want you ready for school.”

“Don’t you think I can do it myself?”

“I know you can baby. I’ll just watch to make sure you don’t mess up.”

She doesn’t think I can do anything on my own. She thinks I’m a little kid. She walked into the kitchen. “You look very nice today Butch. And your dressed and ready early. I’m so proud of you. Bless your heart.” She has been blessing my heart in every conversation we have had since Mama left. I’m not sure how much blessing a heart can take. Daddy says she loves me like her own and I just have to live with that.

I poured my milk into Trigger’s bowl. Trigger is the best cow dog on the farm. He may well be the best one in the county. He is a red heeler. One eye is brown. The other eye is blue on one side and green on the other. You should see him work. He is my dog but he works for my Uncle David and Grandpa William. Trigger has his own ramp onto our porch. It goes down under the trailer. I tell folks he lives downstairs.

I put on my working boots and went to the stables. Uncle David was already there. He pushed up his hat and spoke, “You’re running late. Give ‘em all some sweet feed then change shoes and get on to school.” I was giving each horse a scoop of sweet feed and saw Paul getting on the bus.

My cousin Paul is in seventh grade. He’s not just cool. He’s Fonzie cool. He is also pretty smart. I wish I could say the same for his little sisters.

Aunt Lilly and the girls were running behind as usual. They ran out to the car as if that was saving any real amount of time. The problem is that Misti and Christi are so prissy that it takes them forever to get ready. They are the prissiest girls in the third grade. They may well be the prissiest girls in town. I don’t know how two farm girls can get that way but, they are.

That Oldsmobile can sure kick up some dust. One long caliche cloud followed us to the highway. Then we started making real time. I know for certain, one of these days Aunt Lilly is going to get a ticket. Driving like this is why Uncle David and Daddy call her lead foot Lilly.

It never fails. No matter how late we leave, we get to school on time. The girls go to meet their class at the back of the gym. I sit with my class at the front. Aunt Lilly goes directly to her classroom. She doesn’t stop to talk with the other teachers. She says most of them are a bunch of gossips. I believe her.

I’m sick of school these days. I’m sick of the teachers looking at me and whispering. I’m sick of them constantly asking if I’m ok. The worst one is my teacher, Mrs. Abernathy. She is always hugging and kissing on me. She is always telling me things will be ok even when nothing is wrong.

Mrs. Abernathy is the opposite of my aunt. Lilly has long blonde hair and Mrs. Abernathy has short black hair. Lilly wears dresses but my teacher wears pant suits. Lilly barely wears make up. She says she likes the little freckles on her nose. My teacher cakes on bunches of make up to cover up her freckles. The weird thing is how much they like each other. They have been best friends since kindergarten. They sit together in church. They eat lunch together too. Mrs. Abernathy’s name is Dorothy. They call each other Dot and Slats.

It is kind of funny. How so many people have nicknames. I’m Butch. Grandpa is Dub. And my aunt and teacher are Dot and Slats. There is a kid in my class with a nickname too.

His name is Ysidro. We all call him Punch. That is his nickname because that is what he likes to do. Man, he loves to fight.

Punch was in my class but his older brother Jaime was in fifth grade. Jaime was thirteen. He flunked twice. Punch always knew that Jaime would beat up anybody that beat him in a fight. So Punch thought he could say or do anything he wanted.

Daddy tells me that nobody can push people around too long. He says there is always somebody meaner than the meanest man you know. He told me this to explain some songs. Daddy and Uncle David like Jim Croce music. We sit on the porch sing and play sometimes when Daddy is home. Daddy and Uncle David play their guitars. They like Jim Croce music. Their favorites are Bad Bad Leroy Brown and Don’t Mess around with Jim.

So I knew all along that somebody would give Punch a real whippin’ one day. I just had no idea who it would be.

At lunch time we get to go play as soon as we finish eating. Today we were playing soccer. We chose teams. While we were choosing I saw punch looking across at me. I knew he was going to cover me. He started calling us names. At first the names were innocent enough. Then he called me by name, “Butch, tu ma es ……” I didn’t let him finish. You can call me what you want but leave my mama out of it. I punched him in the nose while he was still talking. I watched him fight a hundred times. He always does the same thing first. He pushes both shoulders then punches to the face. As soon as he came to push me my father’s voice rang in my head. “Back Stance!” I turned sideways. Punch moved forward but didn’t have anywhere to push me. “Push and Shoot!” My front hand flew into his throat. I held on and moved forward to grab his knee. Punch fell with a thud. “Mount him!” I jumped on to him straddling his chest. I started punching. I could not believe I was winning. Then up I flew.

Coach Stuart had grabbed me from behind. He lifted me up with one hand and I hung limp like a ragdoll. He grabbed Punch with the other hand and carried us dangling from his hands. He put us on the stairs and said, “Go to the office!”

The walk down the hall was long. I looked at Punch. His mouth and nose were bleeding. I felt sort of guilty. I tried to say I was sorry but sorry didn’t come out. All that came out was, “Don’t talk about my Mama.”

The nurse came out into the hall and pulled Punch into her office. I just kept walking to the principal’s office. When I got there a first grader was sitting on the bench ahead of me. Some parents were in with the principal and they were arguing. I knew this would take a while. I decided to have a little fun with the kid.

I asked him, “What did you do?”
He answered, “I said the S word.”
“Oh. That may merit the electric paddle. It really hurts. I cried for three days straight when he used it on me.”

The door opened. Principal Watkins walked out with his arms around a couple I do not know. They smiled and said thank you. Then he turned to the little guy and said come with me. I didn’t hear a paddle but the door opened in no time. The little fella had peed his pants. Now I feel sorry for him. Nothing is more humiliating than peeing your pants at school. The nurse came in and traded Punch for the little fella. Punch had an icepack on his face. He went in first. It did not take long. Three smacking noises came from behind the door. I knew what was in store for me. The kid who starts the fight always gets five licks. Punch had already made up Mr. Watkins’ mind. Punch came out and returned to class.

“Butch, come in here.” I walked into the office. “Have a seat.” “Why did you beat up Punch?” I told him about what punch said. He paddled me five times and sent me into the little room next to his office. It has two desks. I knew I wasn’t going back to class.

Mrs. Abernathy brought my work down. I finished it pretty quick in that quiet little room. The day lasted forever. I knew I would get spanked again by Uncle David. I was not looking forward to it.

School let out. I was going to stay for an hour after. Aunt Lilly had work to do. If you get in trouble at school, you can’t go to football practice. So I walked out to the fence that divides the playground from the Middle School practice field. Paul and the other seventh graders looked good. I hope I can run like Paul when I am in seventh grade.

There was a hand on my shoulder. It was Jaime. He spun me around and started punching. I couldn’t even get my hands up. He just kept punching. Suddenly he was on top of me. He still kept punching. Then he stopped. I heard the click of his belt scabbard unsnapping. Then I heard the familiar click of a knife locking.

SMACK! Jaime fell off to one side. There was Paul in all his pads. He hit Jaime with his helmet. “Pick on somebody your own size.” Punch ran at Paul. One swift kick between the legs bent Punch in half.

The whole seventh grade team was standing around us. I could hear Coach Espinosa holler at them as he got there. “Ten laps for all of you except Paul and Troy.” Before the team started running, one of them exclaimed, “Butch whizzed his pants!” It was true. Coach Espinosa barked to Troy, “Go get Principal Watkins. Tell the secretary to call the police.” Troy ran to the office. I stood there pants wet and bleeding from my mouth. The coach wouldn’t let us go. I started checking my teeth with my tongue.

We were going nowhere for quite some time. I knew each time the team ran by they would see my wet britches. The only reason they weren’t saying it was because of Coach Espinosa. I was sure I would never live it down.

Mr. Watkins, Aunt Lilly, Coach Espinosa, Chief Dean and some woman I never met talked to us all and talked to each other. Punch and Jaime left with the woman.

Daddy drove up with a pair of pants for me. He sent me to the truck to change. “Butch, wait in the truck for me. We are going to have a little talk.” Daddy was talking to the chief. I changed my pants. I threw my wet ones in the bed. I sat in the truck, put my head in my hands and started to cry. When Daddy got to the pick up, he didn’t try to stop me. He started driving and talked as I cried. “I’ll have to go back to the location in the morning. You and Paul are playing hookie for a couple of days. You get it out. We have all night to talk.”

Daddy is always right. A man does have to know his limitations. I think I walked right over mine.

West Texas Blues

2006-01-29T21:39:00.000-06:00

Once upon a time, there was a rowdy bar in Juarez called the Lobby. As you might imagine, the place was completely populated by Texans. One of them was swinging from the rafters while he played his Stratocaster. Let me introduce you to a real live West Texas Legend.

My first encounter with Long John Hunter was at the Ector county fair. My parents let me play hookie on the opening day of the fair so I could help set up the booth. It was early and I was the only kid around. I was ten years old and he was playing that evening. I walked up to a radio station booth. He was sitting in the shade under the awning with the strat in his lap and a smile on his face. He motioned for me to come over. “Boy, do you know your chords?” I nodded and said, “Some.” He smiled, put my hand on the neck and said, “Show me G.” I held the chord while he strummed and riffed down in the high frets.

Echo saw him first on my college campus. I remember the looks of amazement and joy on her face. Watching somebody discover live blues is a truly fantastic experience. Long John was fantastic that night. I took some wonderful photos. I’ll publish them once I have digitized them.

Buy Long John Hunter Music.

Choice Lyrics from Ride with Me.

I think I’ll ride on into Dallas
Just get my carburetor clean
Oh yes, I’ll ride on into Dallas
Just to get my carburetor clean
‘Cause you Fort Worth women
You dirty up my gasoline

I think I’ll ride on down to Houston
To Galveston the sea shore town
Oh yes, I’ll ride on down to Houston
To Galveston the sea shore town
Or maybe stay out here in West Texas
Where the BIG LEG women can be found

I wonder if he makes Fuente Cigars

2006-01-25T10:16:00.000-06:00

I have a reader from the Dominican Republic. He never comments. I know little about him. This makes me wonder. Could this reader be a Master? Could he be a Conocedor or a Tabaquero? Could he be one of the people who put painstaking efforts into giving me a moment of pleasure that goes up in smoke?

If you do not smoke cigars, I must explain. A fine cigar is not truly a product. It is a masterpiece. It is a special creation. It is crafted with the same type of effort a great chef puts into a special meal. It takes years to prepare. It starts as one of the worlds tiniest seeds. The preparations seem endless. Every step is considered to be of utmost importance. Many masters give much time to making a moment of my life an amazing experience.

To learn about cigars, please look at this page by master cigar maker Carlos Fuente or watch this video.

Also, read this fantastic poetry on spiritualism and smoking by Ralph Erskine.

I don’t know who you are amigo. If you do make cigars, thank you. Thank you for making life more amazing.

Steve Sporre

2006-01-24T09:03:00.000-06:00

Becoming who God wants you to be is never easy. It is harder for some than others. Some folks must overcome great obstacles. Some folks are faced with the impossible. Those are the folks that have to rely on God the most. When the Beasts are too mighty to slay, the warrior depends on help.

Facing one’s own sin is tough. Defeating it is tougher. But armed with faith a little boy can down a mighty giant. He doesn’t rely on his own power. He doesn’t have to.

I enjoy the Christian testimonies of folks who had to come from behind. Often these stories are rough. But, that makes them special.

Steve Sporre has been reading my blog since the third post. This is good because it turned me on to his blog early. He has recently recorded his testimony in the book Into the Mirror. This book is not yet published. It is available as a blog at http://stevesporre.blogspot.com.

I must warn you that this story is rough. It is often ugly. Steve uses the appropriate obscene language to describe his thoughts being an addict in treatment. If you can’t handle that language, then his story is not for you. If a few words that you would normally hear in the real world are not a deterrent, then I highly endorse reading Steve’s story before some editor ruins it prior to print.

Steve blesses the lives of all kinds of folks. He definitely blesses the lives of bloggers.

I’ll end this post the way he ends all of his.

God is good.

Carpe Diem

2006-01-22T18:12:00.000-06:00

Over the past few months I frequently see that folks will take some time off from blogging. We have to take care of the things in our lives that are more important. I have also seen folks reevaluate their lives and blog about it. I was really disappointed when Stacy from Not a Desperate Housewife pretty much quit. But I totally understand why she did.

Blogging can take up a lot of time. I eat up copious portions of my own time just reading and commenting. It is easy to do. You folks are interesting. Comment threads can be a lot of fun. I really don’t invest a bunch of time in posting but commenting can kill a day fast.

I say all of this in the context wanting to make the most of my life. Today’s sermon got under my skin. It was over being productive with our lives. My days are spent. Completely spent. They are spent making money and spending it. They are spent taking care of the family. They are spent taking care of business. They are spent in front of this monitor too. I have to look at the time God gives me and evaluate my own performance. I have to judge how worthwhile my activities are.

I think I am a poor steward of my talents and my time. I am not happy with what I have accomplished. I don’t love what I do. I don’t think God does either. So, I have made some decisions. Today is a day of repentance. Today I have changed my mind.

I have decided to spend more time on what really matters and feel better at the end of each day. This will affect my Job, my days off and my blogging.

I am more determined now to work my way out of my job. I want to work toward two things. I will own a business and I will write children’s novels. If those two things are related, great. If they aren’t, great.

I will become involved in ministry. I am going to correspond with folks in other countries. Some need the Gospel. Some need encouragement and discipleship. Some need me.

I will change my blogging habits. Some folks are too longwinded. So I may just look at some post and say, “No.” I may give up on the legal blogs altogether except for STACLU. I only want to read the stuff that encourages me. I will become even more of a drive by commenter. I have sucked up too much space on comment threads for too long. Sorry Clew, this means I can’t be your comment stalker anymore.

So, excuse me. I have some planning to do. I've been playing by ear too long.

Jump to Your Own Conclusions

2006-01-20T08:58:00.000-06:00

I work with a young lady named Roxxanne. Yes, she spells it like that. She is from a neighboring state that will remain unnamed to protect the competent. We had the following conversation last night.

Roxxanne: “BWH, you’re old.”

BWH: “Roxxanne, I’m 11 years older than you.”

Roxxanne: “Oh my……..You’re as old as my mom!”

Anticipation

2006-01-18T16:54:00.000-06:00

Today we made a change in Tiger’s treatment. He is now being cared for by one of the countries top Psychiatrists. For the first time, Tiger’s doctor has a plan for medication that makes sense.

Not every doctor shares what they are doing with us. I think it is because so many doctors don’t really have a plan. This guy has a plan and is good at dealing with contingencies.

I am a little exited and a little anxious. I really feel like there will be some improvement. I’m glad to get this doctor on our team. Nothing like a seasoned veteran to ease the fear of the unknown.

Instabandit

2006-01-16T01:45:00.000-06:00

Well I have to tell you about my day in court.

Glenn Reynolds showed up 15minutes late. The judge looked at me and said, “This man has been wearing that hat for 12 years and he has the receipt. I don’t know what you teach in tennesee, but here you have to buy a hat to own it.”

Reynolds left the court and drove quickly to Sonny Bryan’s Smokehouse. He ordered a pulled pork sandwich. They brought him a pound of brisket on a bun. He devoured several of these before realizing we would catch him eating real barbecue. He left quickly and stiffed the waiter.

Not wanting to leave Texas without a hat, Reynolds visited Western Warehouse. He pulled out a patch with an image of a lightening stricken oil derrick. He declared that it was a radio tower on the patch and told them to sew it onto a black Resistol. He donned the size 10 and adjourned to the dressing room with a pair of jeans.

That was the last we have seen of the infamous Instabandit. There were rumors of a man fitting this description driving a gremlin loaded with brisket down Interstate 30 toward Little Rock.

I must admit that I have enjoyed pulled pork sandwiches. But, a fella has to know what he is getting into. Every educated Texan knows pork is tennessean for Road Kill. That has been the code name for road kill since a group of Tennesseans came to Texas wearing porkskin hats. This was last time in recorded history that tennesseans did anything useful. Don’t get me wrong I love the Tennesseans that live here now. They eat Beef.

To all offended Tennesseans other than Glenn Reynolds, the insults hurled in this tale were in direct response to the BBQ Blasphemy of Glenn Reynolds. In no way shape or form does the man in the big white hat hold any malice toward Tennesseans other than the Evil Glenn. BigWhiteHat loves Tennesseans and will eat gladly eat delicious road kill with them at any time.

Dustin' Off

2006-01-15T13:13:00.000-06:00

My last post was kind of a downer. I started reading the comments and wondered why are these folks trying to console me. I read back over the post. I didn’t mean for it to be a poor me piece. But, I guess it was. Thank you all for caring.

I have to set some stuff straight. Autism is tough. It is tough on parents. It is tougher on Autisitcs. I get impatient. I get frustrated. But my struggle doesn’t even compare to Tiger’s. Autism is tough on him.

Autism is tough but it aint the end of the world. Autism does not equal doom. It doesn’t even have to be bad. It does have to be different.

Some parents with autistic children fall into the doldrums. Their despair is more crippling than the autism. They frequently grasp at straws. They give credence to treatments and diets that are just plain ridiculous. They like to lay blame. They like to blame medications, doctors, or even the environment.

No matter why, Tiger is autistic. That is his struggle. I have prayed that God Almighty would take this cup from him. God said no. So that being the case, I’m going to call His Providence and Grace sufficient to handle the struggle. Tiger is good with that. I’m the one with the problem.

The hard thing about waiting is my own impatience. My weakness gives me the fits. I have asked God Almighty for strength, mettle, patience and perseverance. So far he has been telling me yes. The troubles of my past prepared me for this. The troubles I have now prepare me for my future.

I am not the sharpest tool in the shed. But, I think I might get that way. With every scorch of the torch, with every pound of the hammer, with every stroke of the file God makes me stronger, more tempered, and sharper. I have no doubt that I am being conditioned.

When I was young, I was a fighter. My Sinsei, put me through grueling conditioning. It was more intense than what some other fighters endured. It was why I could take more of a beating. It is why I did not get tired.

So I ask you all to forgive my whimpering. I lost my focus. I quit thinking about the prize. I was engaging in Stinkin’ Thinkin’. I have been thrown. Excuse me while I dust off a bit.

I put the hat back on. I have counted my blessings. I know things will get better. I know things will get better than better. Things will be outstanding.

Waiting

2006-01-14T00:25:00.000-06:00

Patience is difficult thing to me. It seems I have no choice though. Some things are beyond my control. It is pretty silly to worry about things beyond my control. So I wait.

I wait for the day that I will actually hear this boy say what he wants. I wait for the day when he will actually say what he means. I wait for the day when he will actually say how he feels. I wait for the day that he will say anything at all.

Some things are worth the wait. I’m pretty sure this will be one of them. I see the gears turning in his mind. I know that there are terribly interesting things going on in there. I want to know him better.

Things have been tough for us lately. He has been hurting himself. He has been hurting the ones he loves. He can’t tell us why. Maybe God will use this to motivate him to speak.

Raising Tiger is like casting my line on the water. I do it over and over again with no results. The only key is to keep casting until something bites. So I cast and I reel in my hope over and over again.

The first music I ever bought was “Hard Promises” from Tom Petty. Some of the lyrics ring in my brain.

The waiting is the hardest part
Every day you see one more card
You take it on faith, you take it to the heart
The waiting is the hardest part.

One day my boy will speak to me. He has overcome so much so far. I can only expect him to keep going. That is what he does.

Admiration

2006-01-12T09:49:00.000-06:00

I don’t have time for a heartfelt post right now. I don’t have time for good humor either. So I would like to introduce you to an author/philosopher whom I greatly admire. Natan Sharansky is a cut above the other authors of our time.

I hope you will enjoy these articles:

And think about reading these titles:

Blog War

2006-01-10T13:19:00.001-06:00

I can no longer sit idly by and let Glenn Reynolds run roughshod all over the ‘sphere. I was ok until he filed a writ of hateus corpus demanding custody of my Stetson. Now this means war! I have since joined the Alliance of Free Blogs. Frank J. is now my attorney.

We have recently been granted a change in jurisdiction to Dallas County Texas. Let’s see how Prof. Reynolds likes coming to court down here.

Some stuff just disappears.

2006-01-09T22:09:00.000-06:00

Echotig wants a treadmill. I think we need that and some weights for squats. I have come to a shocking revelation about my physique. My waistline is getting tighter but my seat is getting looser.

I can feel the bagginess. I am suffering early onset posterior depletion. For me this is worse than the spare tire. To get rid of gut a fella can lose weight. But when the hiney disappears, what is a fella to do? I mean come on. I aint even 40 yet.

I think I'm going to go get that treadmill. And I'll pick up some suspenders while I'm out.

Jeff and Self Improvement.

2006-01-09T11:43:00.000-06:00

My buddy Jeff has recently been on a self improvement kick. He wanted me to see how I could improve my appearance. Thanks Jeff.

He has taken this seriously. He has been getting into shape. The impetus of motivation was preparing for a recent Louisville parade. Doesn’t he look…..Festive?

Hmmm. What to do about these MeMes?

2006-01-07T23:59:00.000-06:00

Some time ago, Jeff relieved me of all meme obligations. Lately both Rebecca and Shannon have tagged me. I have decided to exercise my meme immunity. Yet I really like Rebecca and Shannon so I want to do something.

Here is my idea. I will list a few meme type things, tag no one and call it all good.

First this was the meme that Jeff thought was too much.

Now let us move on to a few things about the little fella in the big white hat:

Yes, I do have a Texas flag hanging over my headboard.

It is a Stetson Ruidoso. The Straw hat (above) is a Morcon.

I listen to many kinds of music. Rush was my favorite band growing up.

I have not had a favorite color in years.

The best TV show ever was “Have Gun Will Travel”

I haven’t read fiction in years.

The cut of steak depends on the steak house. I always order Medium Rare.

Chicken Fajitas are not really Fajitas. “Fajitas” means skirt steak.

The most beautiful sight I ever saw was my Wife in a denim dress.

The sunset you see from the highway between Odessa and Andrews Texas is the crowning glory of God’s green Earth.

I have read everything known to be written by Shakespeare, Twain and Kipling.

I use the New American Standard far more than other versions of the Bible.

The only Blog I read every day without fail is Think Sink.

Help Wanted

2006-01-03T12:37:00.000-06:00

I am putting some posts together on the condition of our language. I need to find some younger than 17 bloggers who do a good job. Please leave links or URLs in comments.

This year aint so good so far.

2006-01-02T13:54:00.000-06:00

Lost.

No Flying Tortillas today.

Now my only hope is a team I detest. Today I'm a Longhorn fan. I probably won't be tomorrow but, I am today.

Resolved

2006-01-01T13:12:00.000-06:00

I thought for a while about this. I came up with laundry list of objectives that I could call resolutions. Some of them were even clever. But they just weren’t right.

Today the preacher quit preaching and went to meddling. He really put me through the ringer. He made me think. Even more, he made me resolve.

Resolved: By January 1, 2007, I will be a better man than I am today.

I know that sounds like a platitude. I know that is broad and nonspecific. I made it that way deliberately. You see I don’t know the specifics. I don’t know what this year has in store for me. However, I do know how I plan to deal with it.

I really don’t think anything short of a fundamental change in my character will do. I’m expected to be more than who I am. God expects it and so do I.

Long Line of Love

2005-12-30T08:24:00.000-06:00

Twenty years ago, I boarded a school bus. I had been naughty and was not allowed to drive. I felt ashamed. The bus was loaded with freshmen from the Junior High School once attended. At the very back was a cutie sitting with her boyfriend.

I tried not to be rude. I didn’t want to insult the fella she was with. But could not help but sneak peeks at her. Every single time she was already looking at me. I had no idea what was in store.

The next year we met. We dated on and off until I left town for college. After that we stayed apart. We each became parents. Then one day we rediscovered each other.

Ten years ago today we submitted to each other in holy matrimony. I love her more now than I ever have. When I look at my folks and my grandparents I understand that I will love her even more in the coming days.

Over the past ten years, we have had more than our fair share of troubles. Statistically speaking, we should have hung it up a long time ago. But there is something about us that doesn’t apply to those statistics. We truly love each other. So even though life is often cruel to us, we stick together. I actually think the rough stuff has made us stronger.

One of the great American songwriters is Michael Martin Murphey. He sang a song called Long Line of Love. He was talking about folks like us. What he said sums up how I feel today.

I Bought A Beautiful Diamond Ring

I offered it to the Sweetest Thing I Know She Said She Would Take It.

We Started Making Some Wedding Plans

She Came To Me and She Took My Hand and said

Are You Sure We Can Make It

I Said My Grand dad's Still In Love with My Grandma

I Said My Dad Still Thinks My Moms the Sweetest Thing He Ever Saw

I Come From A Long Line of Love

When the Times Get Hard, I Don't Give Up

Forever Is In My Heart and In My Blood

You See I Come From A Long Line of Love

Well the Years went by and we had A Son

Now He Thinks He Found Someone for Him

They're planning A Wedding

He Called Me up On the Phone Today

Just To See What I Had To Say to Him

Did I Think He Was Ready

I Said What His Grandfather Used To Say To Me-Its Been Handed Down For Ages It

Runs In Our Family

You Come From A Long Line Of Love

When The Times Get Hard, You Won't Give Up

Forever Is In Your Heart and In Your Blood

Son You Come From A Long Line of Love

We Both Come From A Long Line of Love.

I love my wife more than any thing I will ever love on Earth. I just strive and pray to be worthy of her. I don’t succeed at that much. So far that hasn’t bothered her. Even though my hiney grew big and my head grew bald, she still looks at me like I just walked on the school bus. God bless her and God bless the next ten years.

Just for Me

2005-12-26T20:57:00.000-06:00

Christmas was fantastic. I hope yours was too.

I didn’t get the car. I don’t think I got a thing on my list. But, what I did get was better.

I saw my Wife’s face light up when I gave her a present. My children were grateful and received their gifts with gratitude. I was reminded that my family is amazing. I enjoyed the chocolate cake that I was looking forward to.

This is no ordinary chocolate cake. It is special.

When I was a little boy, one of my grandfathers was a roughneck. He would stay at my house during the week because I lived in Odessa (where most of the oil wells were). When he came on Sunday evening, he would bring a chocolate cake baked just for me. My Grandma Gwen baked it for my personal enjoyment. She knew I loved that cake. I don’t doubt she thought about me when she made it.

She passed away years ago. Now my Mama Dell (Grandmother) and Aunt Valda will make it. Mama Dell made it just for me this Christmas.

This cake may not win any awards but it is my favorite. When she made it she was thinking of me. She wanted to make me happy. She did just that.

It is one of those special blessings you have to take personally. It is the same sentiment I feel when Echo makes fresh tortillas. It is being called by name in a very special way.

I love these blessings. Sometimes the blessing is cake or tortillas. Sometimes it is the West Texas sunset. Sometimes it is the cool wind from the Pacific blowing in my face while I stand on the Oregon coast. Some times it is a father and son walk with Alex down by the creek. Every time, it is a blessing given for my own personal enjoyment. I love the things that are just for me.

From the creator of a cake to the Creator of Heaven and Earth, my personal enjoyment was considered. I like being remembered. I like being loved. I like the things that were made just for me.

Just in case you wanted to know:

Texas Sheet Cake
INGREDIENTS:

2 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups sugar
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
2 eggs
1/2 cup buttermilk or sour milk
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla
.
Chocolate Frosting:
1/4 cup butter
3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa
3 tablespoons buttermilk
2 1/4 cups sifted confectioners' sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup chopped Texas Burket pecans

PREPARATION:

Cake
Grease a 13X9X2-inch baking pan; set aside. In a large bowl, combine flour, sugar, baking soda, and salt; set aside.

In a medium saucepan combine 1 cup butter, 1/3 cup cocoa, and 1 cup of water.

Bring mixture to a boil, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. With an electric hand-held mixer on medium speed, beat chocolate mixture into the dry mixture until thoroughly blended. Add eggs, buttermilk, and vanilla. Beat for 1 minute (batter will be thin). Pour batter into the prepared pan.

Bake in a 350° oven about 35 minutes or until a tooth pick inserted in center comes out clean.

Pour warm chocolate frosting over the warm cake, spreading evenly. Place cake in pan on a wire rack; cool thoroughly before cutting.
Makes 24 servings.
Frosting:
In a medium saucepan combine 1/4 cup butter or margarine, 3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder, and 3 tablespoons buttermilk. Bring to a boil. Remove from heat; add 2 1/4 cups sifted confectioners' sugar and 1/2 teaspoon vanilla. Beat until smooth. Stir in 1/2 cup coarsely chopped pecans.

Sparring : Huddie is pretty in pink

2005-12-23T10:54:00.000-06:00

There once was a man from think sink.
Whose pictures are fun. Don't you think?
His humorous ways
make me laugh through my days.
Now don't he look pretty in pink?

Super Huddie, you are a comedic genius.

My Chrismas wish List

2005-12-20T21:15:00.000-06:00

Echotig made Santa lists for herself and the children. I think I will play along. Some of these are normal and some are pretty fantastic.

You can't go wrong with a bone in Ribeye.

Double Chateau Fuente, not the fanciest cigar in the world. But definitlely my favorite.

I am pleased to anounce that Stetson has resumed production of the Ruidoso, the finest hat I know.

A Canon Rebel XT with a good lens. That will get me back in the game. 10 years away and I still have the shutter bug.

CF Martin & Company, an American icon, I'd like one with a Texas flag top but I couldn't find the picture.

Benelli 1873 .45 Colt Sporting Rifle and a classic Peacemaker. .45 ACP another American Icon.

Auburn Boattail Speedster, if your going to dream then dream big.

All of these things are spectacular. I would love to have any of them. What I really want is peace, quiet and a few kind words. I want a piece of chocolate cake. I want time with the family.

I want some time alone with Echo. A few years back, I walked her out to a windmill, knelt in the soft soil and gave her a ring. She said yes. That was a really good Christmas.

It's in the way that you use it.

2005-12-19T22:21:00.000-06:00

Robin titled a post with a song title the other day. It stuck in my head. So I hope this does the same to her.

Now we go to crux of the matter.

I spent today with a sick son. Alex was home today with a stuffy head and an earache. He had mixed feelings about that. He says he likes skipping school. He doesn’t really mean it. He would rather be there. I drove Echo into work and of course he went too. I tried to keep him quiet. Being quiet is tough for him. I just listened a while.

He talked himself mute. After the Benadryl set in, he nodded off. As I watched him sleep, I contemplated how quickly he is growing up. Soon we will be all out of sick days together. Soon we will simply be out of days. Yesterday I held him in my hands. Tomorrow he will be riding into the sunset. He dreams of wearing a little tan beret. He just might one day. And I won’t be able to take care of him anymore.

So I will savor the moments. Parents don’t get much time. But I don’t think it takes more time. We have enough. It’s up to us to make the most of it.

A Little Dream

2005-12-16T10:31:00.000-06:00

It feels good to get away from the city. Confusion and depression drove me away. I’m moving down an old familiar highway. I pull over, get out and walk up to an H-post. As I lean, I’m careful not to snag my shirt on the barbed wire.

There it is. I came to see this masterpiece. The sun slowly moves behind the earth. Red, yellow, orange, purple, green, pink and gold dance all over the sky. God is so good. I am so small. I’m so happy that He does this just for me.

Well, I saw this fella walking up way off to the North. I guess we can load up and I can take him to Odessa. Man I’m halfway to Andrews. I can’t believe he made it this far in this heat. “Friend, you are out of your mind. It is too hot to be doing this. Where are you going at this hour.” “ I’m here to see you.”

“Who are you?” “Don’t you want to know why I’m here first? I’m here to cheer you up. God sent me. He doesn’t like it when your down in the mouth.” “So you’re an angel?” “You aint a prophet.” “Are you some sort of spirit guide?” “You aint Quanah Parker either. I’m a character.” “You’re right about that!” “I come to your dreams to cheer you up.”

He turns toward the sun. The glare lights up his brim. “Come on, we need to walk.” I turn forward to see where he is looking. The fence and the sunset have been replaced by a small town street. The thick dark branches of pecan trees give me shade. The road itself is quite ugly. Some places it is brick and others it is asphalt. We walk up the steps of that old white craftsman from my past. He opens the door. The house smells like fresh tortillas. Our stuff is laid out ready to pack. The boys drum the floors as they play. My baby girl is sleeping on a blanket on the floor.

This doesn’t help at all. Why did he bring me here? All this does is make me homesick for simplicity.

“Do you remember it all?” “What?” “Do you remember how depressed you were then?” “All my memories are good. I don’t remember being depressed.” “Hoss you were tied up in court and up to your neck in debt. You drove a car on its last leg. Your wife hated living here. You just found out Tiger is Autistic. And your job wasn’t working out.” “Yea, your right. So how is this supposed to cheer me up?” “Don’t you remember?” “Remember what?” “Exactly. You don’t remember because it wasn’t important. You made it through and you will make it through again. Your troubles are no match for your mettle. God has delivered you over and over. So get out of bed and go make a difference.”

A little Ghost from Chritmas past.

2005-12-16T10:28:00.000-06:00

I have Arrived

2005-12-13T14:27:00.000-06:00

I have been honored with a membership to an ultra exclusive club. I started reading Beast7 before I even started my own blog. One of my goals was to make it on to his blogroll without asking. His comments have been rare in both senses of the word. He doesn’t comment much but it is really good when he does. Thanks Beast7.

If you aren’t acquainted with Beast7 you ought to be. He is an American Warrior, a good political commentator and he has a unique perspective.

Discipline: Ozzie part 3

2005-12-11T14:04:00.000-06:00

Sometimes you take immediate action. Sometimes you let it roll for a while. I’m talking about discipline. I’m talking about children. Sometimes they need a spanking. Other times they need a hug. Some times they need encouragement. Sometimes they need reproof.

One morning I woke up in the old farm house. It isn’t there anymore. A tornado saw to that. I woke up late then walked up to the television. The line up was familiar to me: reruns of The Jeffersons and Alice. I just laid there on the couch watching junk television. I could here the lawn mower running outside of the window. I was hoping he would hurry up so we could go have some fun.

After the programs were over he came in to find me on his couch and in my underwear. “What is wrong with you boy? It is twelve o’clock and you aint done a thing all day! I’m disappointed in you!” He walked out of the room and left me alone with my laziness. I don’t think I have felt that way since. I know I don’t want to. This was new to me. This was a whole new kind of spanking. He didn’t use a paddle, a belt or an open hand. He used my conscience. I’ve been spanked with many things but my conscience causes the most pain.

When you grow up, you suddenly become thankful for the spankings. If you haven’t, you still need to grow up. The making of ladies and gentlemen from children is a tough business. It is often but not always fun. Children need to be directed. As my Grandfather, Ozzie had the God given duty to direct me. I don’t think he ever took that duty lightly. He was good at it. He seemed to handle this discipline with skill. I am so grateful for this moment. I never want to disappoint him.

The day comes when nobody blows a bugle for you. You have to start on your own. If you don’t, the world will pass you by and you will just miss out.

Time passed. The house was replaced. The boy in jeans was now seventeen years old with stuff in his hair. Snooks, my first cousin 3 times removed, was over. Snooks was a yellow dog democrat and I was far from that. I was spunky. I said, “Sir, I mean no disrespect but you don’t make any sense.” I don’t remember the rest of the conversation. After Snooks left we retired to snap peas. My grandfather told me, “Zeener, I’m proud of you. You were respectful and kept him laughin’ the whole time. “Now that’s the way you do it.” The words all sons and grandsons want to here: I’m proud of you.

From discipline to encouragement, he has the bases covered. Now that’s the way you do it.

The picture at the top is from my favorite artist, Kyle Polzin. It is titled "Granpa's Gear you can purchase this masterpeice at the Windberg Gallery.

Sam Johnson gets a BigWhiteHat Award

2005-12-09T09:48:00.000-06:00

I don't have the time to devote to a great post on this. That does not matter because my buddy Beast7 did a terrific job with a speech transcript. Please go read it when your done here.

I’m breaking my own rules here. I’m giving away my location and going political. Don’t get used to it.

My congressman is Sam Johnson. He is a war hero and former POW. When John McCain is casting his honor to the wind, his former cell mate Sam Johnson is showing us what a real hero is made of. Too many former heros like Murtha and Kerry are selling their souls and selling out our warriors. Sam Johnson shows real support for our armed forces. Hats off and high in the air for a true Texan.

INFAMY!

2005-12-07T07:30:00.000-06:00

Never forget that brave men fought so we could live free.

What about Santa?

2005-12-05T23:00:00.000-06:00

Cheryl recently posed a question on her blog. She asked, “If I spilled the beans about Santa, would that make me a bad parent??” What fantastic subject matter!

When I was a young parent I really had to give this careful consideration. Early on as a young know it all parent, I felt that fantasy was not a good thing. I didn’t want to tell my children that Santa was real then change later. I felt this gave me a credibility problem when it came to teaching that God is real.

My mother prolonged the fantasy for as long as it could last. I caught my parents when I was 7 but kept up the charade until they wouldn’t buy it anymore. So I guess we all put on an act for years. And, why not? It was fun.

So my parents think fantasy is important for children. They feel not having the fantasy is bad for the kids. I typically follow their example. But this is a little different. Starting with Alex we gradually let the children know more about the legend and where it came from. I think Alex still enjoys the fantasy knowing that it is fantasy. Zoe thinks Santa is absolutely real. Tiger doesn’t talk so we don’t have any idea what he thinks. This is all just fine with me.

Over the years, God sees fit to impart wisdom right across my hiney. It hurts but, I do get a little smarter as we go. A few of these spankings have led me to get closer to Santa. I teach my children about Nicolas of Antioch and the legendary Santa too. You see I completely believe in the reality of Santa Claus.

Santa may not actually fly in a sleigh but, he works overtime to afford a Rapunzell Barbie that cost too much and gets abused. Santa helps his children get the grandchildren gifts that young parents can’t afford. Santa stocks the shelves amid the madness. Santa puts together toys and clothes for poor children all over a small West Texas town. Santa sends truckloads of presents to children in the Rio Grande Valley Colonias who are experiencing their first American Christmas. Santa sends shoe box presents to Turkish children who lost their whole world in an earthquake. From my perspective, Santa does a good job.

Santa doesn’t ask for a thank you. He does his magic and skips out of town faster than the lone ranger. Santa is the purest giver. He gives never expecting gratitude.

Do I believe in Santa Clause? I don’t just believe. I happen to know him personally.

Heirlooms: Ozzie part 2

2005-12-01T20:50:00.000-06:00

It is strange. The details of life are often profound. Little things that many seldom notice can symbolize so much. My grand father stands here on the beach in San Diego a few weeks before departing for the South Pacific. He is wearing stacy adams shoes and a grey piped Stetson. That same Stetson topped his head for years. It became a symbol of great value to me.

To him a grey piped Stetson was simply a good looking hat. To me that hat symbolizes what is good and right in a man. It means telling the truth. It means treating people right. It means stepping up and doing the right thing even when that is hard to do.

There are so many times that this man stopped me and made me listen. Sometimes we would walk around the farm with cold guns just to make me listen. Sometimes we would drive away together just to make me listen. He has a knack for getting me alone and encouraging me to do the right thing. He has a talent for cutting away the distractions and concentrating on what really matters. He has the ability to remind me that I am accountable to my God and my conscience. He has me all figured out.

I seriously doubt that he even remembers the moments that have made a difference. I doubt he associates golf balls, cane poles and shotgun shells with profound turning points in my life. But I do. These are the symbols of the times when his encouragement helped make me who I am.

Do you treasure your heirlooms? I know I do.

Great Guns and Little Pistols! I have decided.

2005-11-30T09:45:00.000-06:00

Last night I decided on the default gravatar. It will be Don, Fuzzy, Dale, a prairie dog sporting a white hat, a peacemaker side arm and a few other items. It will change infrequently and without warning. Although this is not what I originally planned, it is more fun for me.

On a more serious note, a new Ozzie post is in the works.

Still not Settled

2005-11-29T08:02:00.000-06:00

Well my wife can be very persuasive. She thinks that representing some of you ladies with one of these ugly dudes is a bad idea.

So then what? She likes Ronaldus Magnus but he isn't really a sidekick. Gabby aint any better than fuzzy. Tonto is named Tonto (an insult where I grew up). So then are there any straight shooting, white hat wearing sidekicks I could use? You bet.

I could use the ultimate sidekick. She was a white hat wearing, straight shooting bombshell that stuck with her fella after the movies were over. The mighty DALE!

The big question is, "which picture should I use?" Clearly this one is doesn't fit the motif here. There are a million great pictures of her. It is really hard to decide.

My favorite is this one. She even holds her .32 like a lady. But this won't look right when it shrunk down to size.

Maybe I should go with the one of these.

Default Gravatar

2005-11-28T11:01:00.000-06:00

I have wanted a default gravatar for a while. I put up a stunning picture of the comedic genius Don Knotts. Jeff thinks this is a bad idea. I want the epitome of a straight shooter. I have narrowed it down to two characters that are worthy of our respect. Give me a little input here.

Should it be Don or Fuzzy?

Finding Good Help

2005-11-26T04:39:00.000-06:00

One of my co-workers was in a 7-11 the other day. Standing at the counter was a young man seeking employment. Dallas has a low unemployment rate so convenience stores will take some rough characters.

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?

The Good, The Better & The Ugly

2005-11-23T16:04:00.000-06:00

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.

Oh Yes! I'm the Great Pretender. Ozzie part 1

2005-11-22T10:21:00.000-06:00

This proved to be too much for one post. So I will write a few.

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 (1^st once removed) Rich, has posted about him here. We can attest that he has been a fantastic man for both of our generations.

The Four Seasons

2005-11-15T10:56:00.000-06:00

An old Texism states Texas has four seasons: Almost Summer, Summer, Still Summer and Christmas. Today marks the end of Still Summer. Tis the season.

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.

A Sad Day and an Empty Hat

2005-11-14T23:40:00.000-06:00

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 Dallas jury on a death penalty charge. His appointment with old drippy can't come soon enough. I am willing to cut Lizcano some slack. I sincerely hope he makes his peace with God before he meets Him.

This is another example of how Texas and the USA are soft on illegal immigration. Criminals should never make it into this country none the less build a rap sheet here. There is no good reason for Lizcano to have ever been allowed in Texas. We have to get our act together.

I tip my hat in memory of Brian. He will find good company among the other heros in God's cavalry.

Mountain Mama has the solution.

2005-11-14T09:57:00.000-06:00

I have a good post on the way. For now go see Mountain Mama's solution.

EVEN

2005-11-13T20:28:00.000-06:00

Remember when Echotig posted my senior picture. Well, it is way past time to get even. As you can see it was easy to fall in love. Big White Hat, Big 80s Hair.

Thank You

2005-11-11T09:46:00.000-06:00

To all of you that have ever fought for my freedom, I thank you. I hold those who have bled for me in the highest esteem. Heros get the front seats here.

I posted a prayer for the American warrior a while back. Here is the permalink.
http://bigwhitehat.blogspot.com/2005/08/god-bless-military.html

True Friends

2005-11-07T20:08:00.000-06:00

Some people do the most perfect things. One time when my family was in dire straits, I called my friend JD to help me get bread milk and prescriptions. He did. The next day his wife Stacy came by and handed me a grocery store gift card. We were in need so I went to use it and found that it had a $500 balance. I thank God for JD and Stacy all the time.

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 Gary). They build you up when you’re down and slap you back into reality when you’re stupid (thanks Wes).

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.

linkery

2005-11-07T08:23:00.000-06:00

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.

Dee found me by way of BloZep and Mahndisa. These two host mostly political blogs that I can’t leave alone. If you do political stuff give them a look.

I have some good stuff on the way this week. So, stop by from time to time.

Lord help me. I've gone to thinkin'.

2005-11-04T09:40:00.000-06:00

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.

I'm Texas. Imagine That!

2005-11-02T10:22:00.000-06:00

You're Texas!

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.

Take the Country Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid

The Game

2005-10-30T00:24:00.000-05:00

Echotig’s uncle Donald is the greatest gift giver ever. He gave me a Roy Williams jersey. He is a true Dallas Cowboys fan. He works at the Texas stadium gift shop. He has more memorabilia than anyone else I know. He even has a cowboys pickup.

He was showing me his most prized items. His favorite player was Bob Lilly. He has a signed ball and a number 74 jersey with his own name on the back.

My favorite present day player is Roy Williams. I love hard hitting defenders. Bob Lilly, Lee Roy Jordan and Randy White are on my favorites list.

I have noticed all of these gents sometimes go to the games and watch. The legends of the game are out there rooting, no doubt, for Roy Williams. Their time on the field has passed. Their greatness has not. So now they look on as the young cowboys struggle and sweat. Bob Lilly looks down from the sky box on young defenders. There is no doubt in my mind that he stands up and cheers from time to time.

Consider this Scripture:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. (Hebrews 12:1 NIV)

So our loved ones who go to heaven look down on us like retired players in the stands. We know they watch us run our race. It is up to us to make them stand up and cheer.

Finding a Place

2005-10-24T23:30:00.000-05:00

I frequently use some phrases. Some are more colorful than others. One of the phrases lately comes from a song. The phrase is: my place in this world.

You see having a child with a disability changes your thinking. You understand with certainty that you and this child may not share the same goals. Things parents dream of for their children may not be possible. Sometimes these dreams just aren’t the same and really don’t become the child’s own desires.

Two years ago, some teachers asked me about a short term goal for Tiger. I said that I want to play catch with him. The ugly truth is he wasn’t interested in playing catch.

So now I look at things differently. I try to consider his desires more. What matters to me is helping him find his place in this world. I realize that I don’t control what that place will be. The big challenge is finding the desires of his heart.

If I can only figure out what he truly desires then I can help him achieve his own goals. Thoreau was so right; most men do lead lives of quiet desperation. Those who live deliberately seem to have clearly defined desires. They strive after the longing of their hearts. Those who do not strive for their wants still want. It is all about simplicity.

I want my children to do more than long for their goals. I want them to achieve their goals. This will never happen if I obsess on projecting my own agenda on their lives.

My children are far too independent to be molded. I can’t force them to be what I want them to be. Perhaps I should start leading them instead. Tiger’s autism only accentuates the truth. God makes children. Parents just raise them.

My deepest desire is that all of my children discover what they are chosen to be. They all have a place in this world. Maybe I can help them find their place. Or, maybe they can find it without any help.

Real Men look good in Big White Hats

2005-10-21T09:41:00.000-05:00

It doesn’t matter if you are president of the USA or if you work for Texas Instruments.

It doesn’t matter if you are out on the town or if you are clearing brush.

Big White Hats are the ultimate fashion statement.

Thanks for the picture Leatherneck.

CHOSEN

2005-10-15T18:13:00.000-05:00

Have you ever been the odd man out? Rejection is reality. It happens to us all. It happens all the time. For every evil in the world there is an unequal and opposite good. I say unequal because the good is far greater.

The greatest desire of both God and man is to be chosen.

Chosen. I like to be chosen.

All that is good and right in my life is because I am chosen.

It all started with an irresponsible pair of college students in Lubbock Texas. Wise beyond her years, my birth mother wanted more for me than what she thought she could offer. She checked herself into a home for pregnant women. She knew it would be better for me to be chosen.

Two local kids and their young son were making a go of life in Amarillo. They knew something was missing. So my parents and my brother stood before a judge and I was chosen. They took me to Odessa Texas and never let me forget that I was chosen.

When I was 16, my behavior merited a separation from my car. I rode the bus home one day. At the back of the bus was a young looker sitting with her boyfriend. She looked right through the crowd and zeroed in on me. I did not know it yet but I was chosen.

When I was 17 my good friend informed me that a really good looking girl wanted to meet me. Then I met the girl from the bus. I have never stopped loving her. It is good to be chosen.

Years later, I had made a real mess of my life. The only thing that kept me hanging on was the realization that I was chosen. My loving parents and my friends at a Church across from the park in Odessa Texas wouldn’t let me forget that I was chosen.

One day I was talking to my father. He told me someone had called asking about me. That girl from the bus was back in town. She was back in town to find me. I guess she never really stopped loving me either. Once again I was chosen.

As I ponder my children, I wonder,” Why me?” How could I be the one chosen to turn them into responsible adults? Each of them has their own strengths and needs. I don’t always understand how to do this. But, I know who must do it. Once again I have been chosen.

I try to live my life deliberately. I have my own place in this world. I have a fate, a destiny, a purpose. I am chosen.

When I count my blessings on Earth and when I look forward to my treasures in heaven, I take joy that I am chosen.

I like to be chosen.

State Fair

2005-10-10T22:27:00.000-05:00

We enjoyed the Texas State Fair today. It was a beautiful October evening, cloudy and cool. We have done this twice now as a family and I think I have it figured out.

First, buy the wife a Margarita on the first stop. I have yet to do this correctly but there is always next year.

The livestock is always a big kick for me. We went to the pig pen. It made the kids go, “eeew!” It made Echo homesick. We saw some fine Brahmas. I love to touch the cows at show. Their hair feels so smooth and clean. Alex is amazed by the hump on a Brahma. The stables at Fair Park include the police stables. The Dallas cops love mixed horses. They are usually some mammoth mix like Belgian and Quarter. One of them looked to be 18 hands high.

Echo and Alex rode the Texas Star. It is a huge ferris wheel.

Then of course came the food. We all had Fletcher’s Corny Dogs. Mine was jalapeño and cheese. Fantastic. If that was not enough fried food, Echo and I shared a piece of fried cheesecake. I also had a slice of chocolate covered key lime pie on a stick. Tasty.

Tiger spent a lot of time trying to get away from me. Zoe hit her head on a light pole. Alex came through unscathed. It rained on us a little. Everybody complained about the rain but I really enjoyed it. Of course I was wearing a hat and they weren’t.

Sorry but Echo controlled the camera so I didn’t get any pictures of her.

I really enjoy the state fair but it leaves me nostalgic for the Ector County Fair back home. We were usually exhibitors there. My folks would work the booth while I was able to go all over. Being there every day meant I watched the entire battle of the bands every year. It meant I was able to eat every thing that I cared to. It meant I was able to spend a lot of time with people I knew better. It was pretty special. I just don’t thing anything could be that good again.

So today I went to the state fair. It was great. But tonight I’m going back home. And I will be 13 years old again. I will eat mesquite cooked fajitas and funnel cakes. And I will listen to my brother’s rock and roll band play. Then when I wake up, I’ll get back to loving life in the present.

The Party is Over The Cops are Here.

2005-10-05T23:37:00.000-05:00

Well don’t fret. It is a pity party that is over. Echotig and I have been perusing Autism blogs more specifically the blogs of Autistic adults. It is fascinating. I love hearing what they have to say.

These wonderful people are sick and tired of not being treated well. They do not have a victim mentality. Yet, groups that claim to benefit autistics frequently pity and belittle them. They are making an effort to remove the stigma.

When we first discovered that Tiger was autistic I thought Rain Man. I thought this was something terrible, degenerative and beyond all control. Even my college Psychology classes did not inform me very well. I prayed, “God why!!?” The tragedy was overwhelming.

Now that I am better informed, the pity party is over. You see Tiger is a great kid. He is Tiger not Autism. Autism has delayed his speech. Autism gives him sensory aggravation. But autism does not define him. Tiger is no victim.

My desires for Tiger are simple. I want him to be independent and happy. Other stuff just is not worth the anxiety. Neither me nor my family wants pity.

This world is large and autistics have a place in it. There is no reason for them not to find that place and live independently and happily.

I rode the train with some students one day. They were teenagers with special needs: one blind boy and two autistic boys. These boys are special people of superior character. None of the three of them will be able to operate an automobile. So they were learning to use public transportation. I asked them what else they do. All of them had jobs and hobbies. None of these boys were victims. None of them needed pity. They were all going to be fine. Their attitude is admirable. They blessed my day with their presence.

In a world full of people who want the government to run their lives, there exist a group of folks who don’t want assistance. The very people we could easily dismiss to subsistence on the doll strive to achieve and succeed. These people see their sensory problems as less serious than my bad spelling.

The party is over. The cops have hauled my pessimism to jail. It is time to go home.

Too Big for my Britches.

2005-10-04T14:07:00.000-05:00

I’m no Mr. Mom.

I am home with the children this week. What an adventure.

Being Mr. Fix It, I often tell myself, or worse tell my wife, if I were here things would be better. Well if I were home all the time things might get a little better after a while. But thinking I could walk in and make it all good in a hurry was so wrong.

The only thing that improved quickly was the children’s behavior. That is mostly because they fear me. In the words of Alex, “Zoe don’t! He’ll paddle us again!”

I have wasted enough time. I better get back to work.

Judgement Calls

2005-10-03T09:48:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I don’t follow my better judgment. That can be a good thing.

A few years ago I was changing jobs. The employer I was leaving called me on the phone to tell me not to finish my two weeks. So on the Saturday after I resigned, I had to make a trip to the plant to pick up my belongings. Changing jobs can be bittersweet. The excitement of better opportunities is offset by the love you have for the folks that you are leaving.

So I was headed south out of Abilene going back to Winters where I lived at the time. Just outside of town I saw somebody walking along the highway. He was about 6’7” and black with tattoos all over. I knew nobody was going to help this fella if I didn’t. He was just too scary looking for most folks.

I pulled over and asked him if he needed help. He was apprehensive but really needed the help. We had to come to a quick understanding. He was scary looking and I guess I was too. From his point of view, a bald goateed white fella in a big white hat could be kind of threatening. I smiled and all signs of angst disappeared from his face.

He followed me back to the car and I told him I could get him where he needed to be. I did not know where that was yet. He was an airman who got himself into trouble. He and his buddies were off base when their care was stolen. He had already walked about 60 miles when I picked him up. He was AWOL at this point and needed to get back to Goodfellow AFB in San Angelo. I asked him why he did not go to Dyess AFB in Abilene and explain what was going on there. He did not even know Abilene had a base.

I explained that San Angelo was a long trip. It was more than twice as far as I needed to go. But if I stopped by the house and explained where I was then this would be no problem.

We had and interesting conversation of the way. He was making some serious decisions of a moral and spiritual nature. I told him what I thought made the most sense and told him what the bible says about the matter. My answers surprised and intrigued him. He new what he had been engaging in was wrong but never stopped to consider the consequences of his actions. He was so interested that he told me he would seek a little coaching from his Chaplain.

He seemed to get far more than a ride home. And I received more satisfaction from helping him than I can describe. The bible says that many of us have entertained angels without even knowing it. I don’t really know who the messenger of God was this time. I may have quoted scripture and horse sense, but his genuine gratitude blessed me beyond what I contributed.

I don’t want to sound lone ranger here but, I refused his thanks. I told him that I did not want his appreciation. I asked him to thank God instead. I know that he did. I thanked him for fighting for my freedom. And then I rode away. On the way home I prayed for him. I prayed that he would do the right thing. I may be naïve but, I think he did talk to that Chaplain.

So I know a bunch of you are going to scold me for doing this sort of thing. I know you can point out the dangers of picking up strangers. I don’t know why I did it. But danger or not I’m glad I did. I know he must have eventually ended his junket with the 17^th training group. He was probably called combat recently. Airmen fight all over the world for us each day. This one has paid me back many times over.

Change in comments

2005-10-01T00:48:00.000-05:00

Many of you that read me are not bloggers. Many that are my friends and family have asked me how to post comments. I had to disallow anonymous comments a while back. So in order to accommodate the non-bloggers that would like to comment I have switched to halo scan. This will allow me to block undesirables while the rest of you can fire freely. I am sorry that the old comments no longer appear.

Missing Grandad

2005-09-27T09:32:00.000-05:00

Cheryl made me reminisce today. I read her why I named my blog post. It got me to thinking about my own childhood. In some round about way this made me think of a special man.

I owe a great debt of gratitude to certain people who shaped my character as I grew up. The one I will talk about today is my paternal grandfather.

Burgess was a mountain of a man to me. He was only 6’3” but that seems huge when you’re a child. He was a roughneck by trade and I seldom recall seeing him outside of black work clothes. He was dark haired and tan. His hands were rough and his smile was sincere. He smoked King Edward cigars on the back porch usually with a radio earpiece so he could hear the ballgame.

I remember being attacked by our bantam rooster when I was very young. He walked over from where he was smoking and kicked it over the roof. That bird was kind of tough, barely edible.

His work kept him in Odessa though he lived in Brownfield. This meant that he always had a room in my house. Most of the oilfield work was based out of Odessa. When he drove up on Sunday afternoons he always brought a chocolate cake that my grandmother had baked for me. We would finish it by Friday so he could take the pan back home.

He always kept a garden at my house and one at his own. He loved the garden. That is where he lived and where he died. The days of my childhood were spent in the garden too. I remember the feeling of the soft sandy soil on my bare feet. I would catch horny toads and he would help me pick the grass burs from my feet. I would climb up the windmill just so he could catch me. I think all children love to jump and fall. I could play forever in his shadow as he hoed the rows.

I now know he was up to more than growing tomatoes. He was growing a man. God bless him for that.

When he died I was sad but not shattered. He did a better job with me than that. In fact I think that was his final lesson for me. We talked on the phone the day before. I was away at school and he wanted me to come see him. I had made plans to do so. I even bought the plane ticket. I ended up using that ticket to go to his funeral. This proved to be a major rite of passage.

When the graveside service ended something happened on my way to the car. My cousin Karen needed to see me. Our grandfather was a major father figure to both of us but, even more so for her. Karen never knew her father. He was killed in Vietnam when she was a baby. She approached me quickly then buried her head in my chest. I held her pretty little head as she sobbed profusely. You see there was no one else in the world that would do at that moment. For the first time in my recollection, somebody needed me. She needed me specifically not any body but me. Her tears watered something in my soul like my grandfather watering the rows. I am forever changed and I cannot be the same again.

That day in that cemetery my purpose and calling broke through the surface of the earth. That day I realized being a man is more than what you do on the field of play, plowing fields or the battle field. Being a man is about what you do for those you love not just what you do. There comes a time when folks need the strength and understanding that no one on earth can provide but you. There are callings that only one person can answer. And on many occasions I am that man. It is incumbent on me not to flee for Tarshish but to stand up and say, “Here I am Lord send me!”

Many days have passed since then. I have held many crying heads. I have hoed a few rows of my own. I know that I can do anything I am called to do. That confidence doesn’t come easy. It only comes from the successes we experience. Those successes are hard earned and hard fought. Nobody picks the grass burs from my feet anymore. But somebody continues to water my life even from the grave.

Thank You Lord, for giving me Burgess. Thank You Lord, for blessing my life.

Naked Football

2005-09-25T19:05:00.000-05:00

My work week was long. I still haven’t slept. So I’ll come up with a good post tomorrow. Right now I have mitigated joy on the mind. You see I am an incurable Dallas Cowboy fan.

We won today. Barely.

Barely is the appropriate word. Because our defense is laid bare. Naked. Nude.

It happened on the season opener. Dallas defeated a superior team. But in doing so they showed the whole world all the strengths and weaknesses of their new defense. Don’t get me wrong, I love the improvements. But when you try new things you get new problems. The whole world knows how to split our secondary.

Last Monday we were defeated by an inferior team due in part to our defensive nudity. Today another inferior team came close to doing the same.

This is much like my own life. I’m no poker player. I’m no actor. My face is as easy to read as a children’s book. It is pretty easy to know what I will do next.

So what is the strategy for winning with an open playbook? Simple. Run up the score. Some times the best defense is a good offense. Oh, and uh fix the weaknesses too.

Blogging Art and Addictive Hobbies

2005-09-21T07:32:00.000-05:00

When Echotig convinced me to blog, I had no idea that it would be this addictive. I had no idea I would enjoy it this much. I had no idea that it would start so many friendships. I had no idea.

My first online friendship started in 1988 when email was still in its infancy. I had a pen pal in Singapore who sysopped a bulletin board as did I. We were both attending nerd schools on different sides of the world. To our amazement and the amazement of others, we corresponded daily. In 1988 few believed that was possible.

Things have improved since then. Blogging gives me an outlet. I need creative outlets and this one only requires as much time as I give it. It also can be kept up with short sessions. But I have felt for a while now that I wanted it to be better than it is.

So I started playing around with dreamweaver trying to come up with a new skin. It did not take me long to the discover this is a project that takes real skill. I don’t want to wait until I have developed that skill. So I started looking at blog stuff on the web. I decided I should pay a graphic designer to do this.

As you all can imagine, the first person I thought of was Darlene. I am concerned however. Most of the stuff I have seen her do is too feminine for me. So I figured if she has to macho it up, I should give her some good material.

I thought I should use some art. Not just any art but, art that screams TEXAS! Immediately I thought of my favorite artists: Dalhart Windberg and Kyle Polzin.

My parent’s and grandparent’s homes were always filled with Windberg’s work. We had prints of his stuff since I could walk. I grew up finding the wildlife hidden in his landscapes. My own home has all I could steal from my folks. When I have the opportunity, I go to signings to talk to the man. About 10 years ago, in Odessa Texas, he talked with me for two hours about my own photography. He may not know me but I love this fella.

One of the other artists in his Gallery is the young up and comer Kyle Polzin. He is definitely from the same school of thought and a master in his own right. His land and seascapes remind me of Windberg but he shows his own style. Look out for Kyle. He has the stuff!

I’m no sycophant. I doubt these artists will ever look at this blog or read this post. I’m just that big of a fan.

Hopefully the artists and the Gallery will let me use their art on the new blog skin. I’m also going to purchase bigwhitehat.com. I hope Darlene doesn’t think that I’m too big of a headache and charge me large amounts of cash. I hope I can get more traffic without getting political. I hope.

Creativity is a plant. Either it is growing or it is dying. I’m going to keep watering.

I was tagged. Here is my meme.

2005-09-20T08:46:00.000-05:00

Jeff tagged me. Yes it is a silly little game. But I’m happy to be picked so let’s get this over with.

5 Things I Plan to Do Before I Die

* Take Echo on a just the two of us trip to Hawaii.
* Build the home I’ve been contemplating for the last 20 years.
* Take Echo on a trip to Germany.
* Ride the train from Manhattan to Saratoga and wander around at every stop.
* Smoke Cigars with Rush Limbaugh.

5 Things I Can Do

* Make folks laugh.
* Make folks cry.
* Make folks angry.
* Make a fool of myself.
* Laugh, cry, and get angry at myself for being such a
fool.

5 Things I Cannot Do

* Tie a cherry stem in my mouth.
* Roll my R. (Spanish)
* Sing along at the Opera.
* Move away from Texas unless God makes me.
* Eat collard greens.

5 Things that Attract Me to the Opposite Sex

* Those, “Walk yourself right over here” looks.
* The anticipation of long warm kisses that blow the big
white hat right off my head and into the sunset.
* The anticipation of intense sexual experiences that
send me to my knees thanking God Almighty for the
miracle that is my wife. (Yes. She is that hot.)
* Soft touches that melt my flesh.
* The glorious aroma of her cooking.

5 Things I Say Most Often

* NO!
* Stop!
* Get down from there!
* Don’t make me spank you!
* I told you not to make me spank you. Now BEHAVE!

5 Celebrity Crushes

* Paulina Porizkova
* Joan Jett
* Sophia Loren
* Rachel Ward
* Raquel Welch

5 People I Want to Do This Next

* Echotig (Sorry babe.)
* Stacy (I’m dying to hear this.)
* Admin Worm (This should be funny.)
* Darlene (This seems like something you would do.)
* Diison (It is about time you posted something.)

Rangers Lead The Way

2005-09-18T15:51:00.000-05:00

To paraphrase scripture, “Children are like ammo. Blessed is he whose dope bag is full.” Let me introduce you to one of my bullets. His name is Alexander. He is Great.

When he was a toddler, I would ask him what he planned to do for the day. He would respond, “I’m going to fight the evil!” That seems to be his calling.

Alex currently wants to grow up to be a Ranger. Not a Texas Ranger but an Army Ranger. This started when watching football on TV. We were watching one of the many Pat Tillman tributes during a game. He asked so I told him Tillman’s story. Since then he wants to be a Ranger.

I use this as a motivator. If he doesn’t follow directions in class, I ask him, “If you won’t follow orders, how will you lead the way?” If something is too hard, I challenge him by saying Rangers can do it. It seems to work pretty well. He’s shaping up into good man.

He inspires me. You see he thinks about his heroes. He can be motivated by thinking about what his heroes do. He picks good ones too: Jason (king of Iolcus), Davy Crockett, Aragorn, the Rangers et cetera. I wish I could do that as consistently as he does. I often get distracted by feeling sorry for myself. I’m glad I can see Alex’s character and mettle. He snaps me out of my pity party pretty fast.

Rangers lead the Way! Lead the way little Ranger! Lead the Way!

It Is Time

2005-09-13T09:04:00.000-05:00

This morning I was driving to my prayer group. It’s really a support group but since guys don’t like admitting that we call it other things. Basically we are a group of fellas trying to get by and we show up at a diner on Tuesday mornings to offer each other some support.

So I’m driving along going to this noble clean cut Christian thing when some dude almost hits me with his pick up. He is clearly late and in a hurry to get on the freeway. He lays on the horn and shoots me the finger for daring to be in his way. I promptly shout, “@#%**#%^$#.” I catch up to him at the next light. He gets one look at me and decides to avoid eye contact after that. As he speeds off, I see a Christian radio bumper sticker and an ichthus (see right).

I can see it in the paper, “Road rage Fight Between Good Christian Men.”

I’m thinking this is a sign from God just for me. It is time to clean up my act. I’m really not angry about the other fella’s behavior. That is his headache not mine. I’m worried about me. You see my use of expletives was only an example. I am Christian man who struggles to live the Christian life style. My language at work and home leave something to be desired. I get violent and have fits of rage from time to time. And that is about all I want to share. There is much more but I don’t care to air it out.

It is time for me to clean it up. To get myself and my life together again. It is time to devote myself to becoming God’s man again. It is time to get the things done that I have been neglecting. It is time to carry my load at church. It is time to only have eyes for Echo. It is time to devote the attention to my children that they want so much. It is time to get back on the diet. It is time to be more productive at work. It is time to get out of these doldrums and start living again.

I did make it to the diner. It is also time to finish study we have been doing. This time the subject matter is lust. Christianese to English translation: all men (including Christian men) struggle with porn, watching pretty women (too closely) and not paying enough sexual attention to our wives. As you could imagine, this study has been good for all of us. I’m just wondering if the next study should be on controlling my temper. After all, it is time.