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 |  I've maxed out. Closed this blog. |
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This is a way of making myself write something coherent and grammatically correct almost every day. I'm opinionated and need an outlet. I'm also prone to flights of fancy. Thanks for stopping by. |
| I love my family. But when I'm on vacation, I want to be on vacation. I don't want to be cleaning after them and cooking and feeding them. It's not a vacation if I have to shop for them, and spend all day cooking, putting it on the table at different times, cleaning up snack dishes, picking up toys, and sweeping, constantly sweeping from all the coming and going. And then there's the dish washing. Occasionally, someone will put away left over food, and carry dishes to the sink. But heaven forbid that someone should rinse the dishes and load the dishwasher or actually dip their hands into dishwater in the sink. Then there's prepping the bedroom for overnight guests, and doing laundry after they're gone. And while they're there, you have to restock toilet paper, empty the trash, and wait for access to your own bathroom! And if there's a preschooler, you can't watch TV, or if a fussy baby is in the house, you can't have the lights on or make any noise while they try to put the baby down for the night. I need a vacation to recover from my vacation. Going back to work and getting back into my own little rut of a routine is more relaxing. |
| I know we all think gravity is essential to us. However, I want to let you know that if you are over 40, gravity is not your friend. And the older you get, the less friendly gravity gets. If you doubt me, just look in your mirror. Those eyelids that used to be so perfect are drooping just a little, aren't they? And when you get near 50, it looks like your face is starting to slide down off your head. There's "stuff" under your chin that didn't use to be there (that's Southern talk, friends, for that wasn't there once), Your ears are slightly longer, so I'm told, especially if you wear heavy earrings. And a lot of other things are closer to the ground. For women, your chest hangs lower, and eventually slides around to the side a little. I'm told men have a similar problem with other areas, but I've never done a personal survey. I'll take their word for it. Even knees seem to have an overhang. Then there are wrinkles around the ankles. Both men and women tend to get a little shorter, even without osteoporosis. The vertebrae just sort of settle, Hair falls to the floor for both sexes, as what remains on our heads grows thinner. And it must be gravity that grows more hair in the ears and nose as less grows on the head, more so in men. And hair grows on male backs and arms now that it has slowed or stopped growing on top the head. If you still doubt me, hold a regular mirror out in front of you about waist high. Now lean over and look. You'll see for yourself why you should never be on top in the daylight. So turn off the lights. If you're both over 40, and it's daylight, just close your eyes or wait until later. |
| Once returned to human kind, Pecos Bill wanted to be the best at everything. He could draw a gun faster than anyone else. He could lift the most weight and run the fastest. And he could ride anything, almost. He rode a mountain lion. He could ride the wildest mustangs or meanest bulls. Once he tried to ride a tornado. He used his giant snake, named Shake, to lasso the tornado and then hopped on; but the tornado threw him--the only thing ever to throw him off. In fact his own horse was so wild, it was named Widow Maker. He didn't like anyone but Bill, so anyone else who got on him died, therefore, the name. Besides his lasso snake Shake, he had another snake he used as a whip. His favorite girlfriend, Slue Foot Sue, and eventually his wife, had her own big animals. She was known for riding down the Rio Grande on a giant catfish. Eventually, Pecos Bill settled down and proposed to Slue Foot Sue. Depending on where you heard the story, before the ceremony, during the ceremony, or during the reception, Sue wanted to ride Widow Maker. Widow Maker didn't like that. Sue didn't take off her bustle when getting on Widow Maker, so when he bucked her off, she bounced off her bustle up to the moon, hit her head and bounced back. After a day or two of bouncing, Bill realized he was going to have to do something, but everything he tried failed. He even used his snake Shake to try to catch her. One legend has it that she finally settled on earth but was so mad at Bill that she ran off and forgot him. He got depressed and went back to the coyotes. The other version is that she landed on the moon and stayed, so Bill got depressed and went back to the coyotes. The coyotes would sit and howl at the moon every night in sympathy for Bill's loss. That wasn't the end. One day, he went back to town near people. It so happened a fancy lawyer from Boston had arrived and thought he'd be a good cowboy. He bought a ten gallon hat, a big shiny, brass buckle, fancy lizard skin boots, spurs, the best cowboy pants, a western shirt with embroidery, a suede vest with fringe, and a silk scarf for his neck. Pecos Bill saw him sashaying into the saloon and started laughing. Bill lay down on the sidewalk and just died laughing. And that was the end of Pecos Bill. |
| While Billy the Kid was a real person who became a legend, and his exploits were magnified by newspaper editors, Pecos Bill was a mythical cowboy. He was the biggest, the meanest, the fastest, the strongest, and all other superlatives of the wild west. His tales were told by word of mouth, before radio and TV, and were finally published in 1923 by Edward O'Reilly. Pecos Bill was known from Texas to California. His parents were traveling from Texas in the 1830's when he was only a few weeks old. There were 17 children in the family before him, and they needed more land around them. He ate a lot and grew fast. He could talk when he was only 1 month old, and teethed at 4 months on his Daddy's Bowie knife. At times, while his Ma was cooking, he'd slither away and wrestle a bear or other wild animal. When their wagon got close to a stream, baby Bill bounced out and fell into the stream and was carried away to swifter water, and then to the Pecos River. He had to teach himself to swim real fast to keep from drowning. That's where he got the name Pecos Bill. While he was drying off, a coyote came along. She took in the baby and raised him and for the next 15 years he ran with coyotes and howled at the moon. Meanwhile, his ma got sick with grief because he was never found, and she died. On his 16th birthday, his brother was rounding up longhorn cattle and spotted Bill on all fours running about a field. He said, "Aren't you my brother Bill?" "No, I'm a coyote." "How come you don't have a tail like a coyote?" "I don't know. But I have fleas. And I howl at the moon." "That doesn't mean anything. Everyone in Texas has fleas. And sometimes they howl at the moon. But you know how to talk. Coyotes can't talk." Well, that convinced Bill, So he went with his brother back to civilization where he made quite a name for himself. |
| I just discovered an old TV series that I'd never heard of before, The Tall Man, starring Barry Sullivan and Clu Gulager. It was a half hour show about the friendship between Pat Garrett and Billy the Kid. It's all fiction, but has some validity in its story, and is very entertaining. It might be typical of the early 60's. The piano music is almost comical. With only 30 minutes, the story can only be so deep. But the antics of young Billy and the seriousness of Pat are worth watching. If you know some of the history behind it, the show makes a lot of sense. Pat was older and wiser, and was somewhat new to upholding the law. Billy was very likable and younger and looked up to Pat. Pat felt protective of him, although he would have to stand against him someday. No one knows for sure what Billy's name was. He was born to an unwed mother and had the name William Henry McCarty. He took his stepfather's name for a while. He used W. H. Bonney in his later years (he died at age 22). He was a little shorter than most men (the actor was a little tall for Billy), and he was always very thin. So he felt slight compared to the other boys. He learned to use a gun in his attempt to make up for being small. His size in the show is emphasized by placing him next to Pat Garrett who is 6 inches taller. Of course, they can do that with boot heels, too. Some people feel he got the name Billy the "kid" because he was so thin and of average height. But others feel it was an affectionate name because he was so charming and so eager to please others. His manners were always pleasing. The TV show plays this up well, by letting him smile a lot, joke around, and play tricks. He does things that are not historically accurate, but illustrate his jovial nature, and the brotherly connection between the two men. Unfortunately, in real life Billy fell under the influence of some bad men. Garrett had to uphold the vows he had made and live by his moral code and the law. Gulager was too old for the part, but played it well, and still comes across as charming. But he was so cute! (Even to an old woman.) Sullivan is also too old for the part of Garret, but seems fatherly towards the other anyway. And he was very manly for the ladies. More than 50 years later, it's still a good show. |
| I've never written anything about my friend Sadie. Maybe because I was too close to her. She died about 8 or 9 years ago of cancer. I never thought I could hurt so much. I think I cried for a month. I had not realized how dependent I was on her, and in my selfishness, wondered what would become of me? Sadie was my landlady, my Bible study teacher, and confidante. Her son was my age. I actually lived in her sister's house, in a small efficiency apartment, but her sister was ill, so Sadie handled all her affairs. Sadie was well-know in the county. She was a retired nurse, had a zillion relatives in the county, and was very active in our country church. I could mention her name to a stranger on the far side of the county, and they all knew who she was immediately. "Everybody knows that woman." She was active, charitable, and visited everyone who was sick or in trouble. She bailed people out of jail in the middle of the night. She cut grass on the tractor in 100 degrees, drove people to the doctor, and taught any class the pastor gave her. I knew I wouldn't have that energy in my 70's because I didn't have it in my 40's. I went down country roads I didn't know existed, went to funerals of people I had never met, and did a lot of things that I wouldn't have done had Sadie not asked me to help her. She had that extraordinary influence on most people. And I was close at hand. She was one of the main mentors in my life and came to me in my later years. There's a part in Owen Wister's book, The Virginian that discusses the "true religious person". It's a person who makes you want to be a better person, to live on higher ideals. That was Sadie. She touched so many lives. And the truth is she gave us all a good example to follow. I knew many people who were better people because she was around them. She was a true religious person for me in that sense. |
| I was looking at a long list of American folk heroes and noted that one column included cause of death. A few listed "old age". What does that mean? Is that supposed to be some disease or an accident? Do you just fade away like a TV show turns into static? And when does "old age" set in. When can you tell it's killing you? I then made a guess that the true cause of death should be "unknown". One of the people on the list died at age 101 from being thrown off a horse. Doesn't sound like she suffered from "old age" any. People died of heart attacks, TB, cancer, kidney failure, stroke, accident, gunshot wounds, and many other reasons on the list. Those sound reasonable ways to go. If old age kills, then why do some die at 70, and others at 95, or 105? As writers, we need to stop giving old age a bad name. As a culture, we need to make it a little less scary. Old age could just be a stage for trying something new, like Grandma Moses painting. Paul Newman at 94 was still handsome and sexy and racing go-carts in a studio and parking lot. He didn't die of old age; he was still living strong. Old age doesn't kill. And it's not an excuse to just wait for death. |
| A big topic, but I only want to handle one aspect of it.In view of our increasing violent society, we need to be sure our culture is leaning the value of human life. Between violent games, TV and movies, and the news, we see lots of violence and murder. /but we seldom see much relationship between that violence and pain or loss. We see the glory but not the personal reality.Somehow we separate the action from the results. For instance, an ER doctor, treating a young teenager with a bullet wound, said he told her he didn't know it would hurt so much. It was cool to be in a gang and carry a weapon, but none of the kids had realized the risk to life or limb for themselves or others. How do we as a society teach that link, that risk between action and result? Let's go a step further. People need to know about death and injury, that it hurts physically and emotionally. It hurts not only me or my family, but ALL people. I need to respect the deaf-mute, the foreigners, the other religions, other lifestyles. I don't get to decide who lives or dies, or who gets punished. Yet somehow people are not learning this. They are their own little gods in their own little worlds. Take away their guns and they'll find another way. (Charles Manson's followers didn't use guns.) There is a very basic need in our culture. I don't know how to address it. But we're trying to solve our problems the wrong way. We're not getting to the real issues, the cause of our violent world. We're only hitting the symptoms. |
| Some people seem to think that if we ban all guns we will reduce or eliminate violence. But crazy people will still be crazy. Banning guns is like a band-aid on a gaping wound. It doesn't heal or stop the bleeding. The high rise in homelessness was attributed to mental illness, then swept under the rug. As the rights of the mentally ill became protected, which ideally was a good thing, more people lost their protection and safe-keeping. Families couldn't force an aunt or uncle or grandparent into a "home", so they ended up on the street after losing all their money and possessions. They took up company with the alcoholics and drug addicts who just couldn't hold onto a job or abide by rental rules. Several decades have gone by and their numbers have increased, but we no longer have asylums or "mental hospitals". With more ADD, absentee fathers, over-stimulated children, and more irresponsible parents, we have a new generation of people less than fully functional and unhappy, ready to go on a rampage to release their anger. The population is growing as well, so we have a larger percentage of a larger number of people who can't manage their anger. The only way to reduce violence is to address these more basic problems. Schools are already over burdened trying to cover the basics of learning, but it's the only central place to address a community's needs for moral training, respect for human life and rights, and determine "normal" development. We need less time on sex education and more on parenting, paying bills, and citizenship. The church and the synagogue are failing us here and would reach only a small segment of society anyway. It's not the business owner or manager's job to diagnose illness. This is a bigger problem than I'm qualified to answer. We all need to give some serious thought for the sake of our own future how we address the growing problem of dangerous mental illness (the "I'm okay, you're not okay", and the worse "I'm not okay, and you're not okay either"). |
| I read somewhere that everybody thinks they've got a book in them. Well, everyone does have a story. Some stories are just more exciting or adventurous than others. And some are told better. My father can keep people spellbound with his slow telling of tales from the 1930's and 40's. They're usually funny as well as historic. And you get a good idea of who he is and why he does certain things. Others have traveled a lot, or have been in a lot of military engagements, or have known famous people. Still others have suffered, or lost fortunes, or have been discouraged. They have unique stories. Of course, writers want to record their own stories and others. But we all have the possibility of "writing" our own story by choosing how we live. When we know that we are living a "story", we can choose the theme, the messages, the way we want to be remembered. We have to decide what is important to us and what guides us. For instance, if I want my story to be about financial success, I have to work hard to develop multiple streams of income, take the right amount of risk, save, and invest. If I want to be a rock star, I have to develop musical talent, stage presence, make the right connections. If I want to be a politician, even a low level one, I need to know something about history, law, government, and political science. Most of us aim a little lower. Most of us don't give it much thought, we just try to survive in our own worlds. But if we want to be remembered as good parents, then we should study up on it, not just take our chances. If we want our stories to be friendly, then we need to control our tempers and take relationships more seriously. All I'm saying is the average person needs to give a little more thought to what he or she wants his story to be, no matter who writes it, then actually work towards that goal in every day affairs. You might say we should live conscientiously, not haphazardly. |
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