From time to time, in this blog, I introduce you readers to common, everyday people who have touched my life in one way or another. Sometime the person is part of my family and sometimes they are just folks whose life-path interceted my own at one time or another.

Tonight I would like to introduce you to Anthony Tuchek. Anthony...or as he liked to be called...Tony, came from Wisconsin and I first met him while in Boot Camp in San Diego, California.

Tony was a natural born clown...he loved to make people laugh and was the well-spring of endless practical jokes. At six foot three inches tall and two hundred and twenty pounds, Tony rarely had to worry about reprisals from people who got angry when they found themselves on the recieving end of one of his jokes but even though he was a big man he never threw his weight around...he was a good natured giant with a ready grin for one and all.

The other thing about Tony was his talent for getting into trouble and along with himself...anyone dumb enough to be standing close by at the time. Let me give you some examples of the "Trials of Tony"......

Graduation day at Boot camp. This is the biggest day of our so far very short military career. It was bright and sunny on the giant parade ground and the stands were full of family of the recruits and also, unfortunately, a large contigent of local girls to whom Navy Boot Camp Graduation was a form of entertainment. See it was great fun, back then, for the ladies to come to the graduation dressed in skimpy little short skirts and nothing on underneith!

They knew that down there on the parade ground was maybe 1000 guys who had been locked away from anything FEMALE for about three months and they knew what effect they would have on these poor guys. The girls would sit up there in those grandstands and as the recruits would march by them, all the girls would spread their legs and flash the poor guys...the object of this exercise was to see if they could cause the perfectly marching men to lose step or do a double take or in some way mess up the grand "Passing in Review".

Well enter Recuit Company 87 and Tony Tuchek. Tony was marching next to me, on my right, the grandstands were on my left as I remember it. As we neared the end of the grandstands (we had already passed the reviewing stands with the admirals and stuff on it) Tuchek spotted the girls and out of the corner of my eye I saw this silly grin spread itself on his face and I knew we were in for trouble.

Company 87 reached the penultimant spot...the girls on the left...where we were supposed to execute a sharp right turn, in unison. There were three companies in front of us and one behind us...the command was given...five companies of 60 men each, 300 men..."RIGHT TURN, HUT!"

Unfortunately 298 went right....Tuchek went LEFT TOWARD THE STANDS...still grinning like a crazy fool and he went right over the top of me, knocking me to the ground and totally disrupting the whole company's turn!

The little hippy girls in the stands were besides themselves with glee. They had finally managed to totally disrupt a graduation! Unfortunately for Tuchek, the Shore Patrol officers intercepted him before he could reach the stands and dragged him away.

The next day he and I were in front of the base commander getting a tongue lashing...The commander did not want to believe that I was an innocent victim...dang! I got trampled by half the company AND got a nasty note in my personl file. Yes, knowing Tuchek was anything but boring. Maybe I will tell you some more of his exploits in the coming days...he might have been a pain in the ass but he made sure I never had a dull moment.
 

Yeah, I know, its almost one o'clock in the afternoon and I should be on the downhill side of my work day. Unfortunately work was out of the question today.

You see, yesterday my cart pusher let me down. Bless his heart, I can't blame him too much though, we were overrun with people. We had a solid stream of humanity flowing through the front doors...mostly panicked males looking for Valentines Day goodies....and we were all being overworked.

My cart bin, which stands to my left side, is capable of holding about 125 carts at one time and these are pushed in from a folding door to the outside by our cart pushers. When the business is a brisk as it was yesterday those 125 carts last about 20 minutes.

Well the cart pusher had managed to keep up for a few hours but finally the pace took its toll and he fell behind. My cart bin emptied and I was standing there with a growing mob of customers clamoring for carts.

Nothing to do but open the outside door and go out and grab the carts myself and fill up the bin. BAD MOVE!

Now, it really isn't that big a deal, I have done it many times when we get really busy but this time I paid the price. I grabbed a line of 20 carts and began to push them through the folding door when I felt something give in my back and a pain shot down my left leg that almost put me on the ground.

I must have twisted wrong...who knows. Maybe age has just taken its natural toll on me. Whatever the reason, I seem to have strained a muscle in my back. The pain was intense and I was forced to go home early yesterday. This morning it took me and Mel both to get my pants on....gawd.

I was going to try to make it to work anyway and I would have too, had it not been for my sneaky wife. She hid my car keys and refused to tell me where they were. She then informed me that I WOULD BE TAKING THE DAY OFF TO REST MY BACK!

I knew I was beat....there is nothing in this world as stubborn than a Yankee woman....I might as well have been arguing with a wall.

So here I sit....still in pain...feeling totally useless by missing work, I hate doint that. The up side of all of this is I had plenty of time this morning to read PlannerDan 's new short story and I can not stress enough how important it is for everyone to read this story. If you love the short story format and enjoy a well told tale, this story is a must-read.

ID: 1071083   (Rated: ASR) From the Early Morning Mist  History woven into an early morning mist. by PlannerDan

Subject: Time

Thought: I'm starting to understand how my buddy PlannerDan feels sometimes.

Time seems to be squeezing in on me and I have no idea what to do about it. Until someone smarter than me comes up with a formula that places about five more hours in the day I am afraid I will remain "squeezed".

My time, each day, begins about 5:30 a.m. I get out of bed stagger into the bathroom and do my morning rituals needed to get ready to face the workday. From there my next stop is the computer where Mel has my coffee waiting for me. I then spend about thirty five or forty minutes checking out blogs written while I slept.

I rarely have time to do comments then, I usually have to wait until I get home for that. Then its time for me to head out to work....eight hours of retail hell not for the faint of heart.

Finally its time to go home....I usually get home about 3:30 and I come in the house, kiss my wife and sit down at the computer....check mail, answer mail, read favorite bloggers and reply to some. Lately I have had to cut back on replies to give me more time to read NEW bloggers.

I eat dinner sitting here at the computer. Before I know it most of the afternoon is done and I still haven't done a blog myself...I do my blog....then read some more blogs.

Then its bed time......then I have to do it all over again the next morning. See how time squeezes me? I guess I need to do some serious time managment but I have never been good at that. Add to all that other stuff the fact that I have to get the newsletter done each weekend and you can see how I stay behind all the time.

I don't review anymore...no time. I haven't written a new story in a long time but a lot of that is because of a wicked block that has been on me for months.

So how do I make changes and what changes would be best? I need some serious suggestions here. Anyone out there good at Time Managment? I need your input NOW!

I need some extra hours in the day or some way to do all that I need to do and still have some time for some semblance of life away from the computer.

Okay....I think I will shut up now and wait to see what you guys have to say about it....HELP!
 

All of us here at WDC have one thing in common....we love to write. Writing frees something in our souls and lets us soar unfettered from everyday life.

It doesn't matter what we write, wither its short stories, novels, poetry....its words and the words hold the magic for each of us.

To be totally honest, there are very few of us in here who will ever be famous for our writing. Only a select few will ever read what we write, but that's okay too. Most of knew from the beginning that fame and fortune at our craft was not really in the cards....but still we write.

Every name you see displayed on the Blog Page has this in common and sometimes we need to remember that. No matter how different someone seems, when you read their blog and no matter how much we might disagree with some things they write....they are just like the rest of us...writers who love to write.

There are times...like today...when I find it necessary to remind myself of these things. writing our stories and our poetry is our foundation...blogging/journaling is just a part of it but an important part nonetheless.

I found, today, that I needed to remind myself of all of this when I sat down to do a blog.....I discovered I really had nothing witty or informative or insightful to say. Maybe I need to recharge my battery, who knows. All I do know for sure is that doing this Blog is important. It is important to all of us for one reason or another and hopefully the next time I try to do one, I will actually have something to say.

You folks have a wonderful day.....and keep writing...its what we do.

 

This is my normal Friday evening status alert. The latest issue of The Blogville Weekly News is now ready in case anyone wants to read it.

"Invalid Entry"  Hope you all enjoy it.
 

Back in the dim past...about 1980....I did what I always do when the world closes in on me and "stuff" threatens to overwhelm me...I got away.

The sorid events leading up to my personal withdrawal from the modern world are, at this late date, rather unimportant. Suffice it to say...I had reached a point where I needed a break.

You see, that is what I had always done when things got to an overload point with me. I would always escape back into the only world I have ever felt totally at home in....the natural world. This was the first thing I did when I came home from the service. I took my shattered mind and weakened body out into the forest and I lived for two months, running trap lines, hunting and fishing and staying completely away from other humans....it worked, Mother Nature drew me to her bosom and slowly healed me.

So, here I was, 31 years old and still in need of that special healing. I had come up with the idea of a float trip on the Trinity River, not the way one would do it in the modern world, but the way it was done by the trappers and mountain men of the early 19th century. The trip would begin close to the head-waters of the Trinity River and progress down to Lake Livingston, some 250 miles to the south. I took only what a trapper would have carried back in the 1800's. I had salt, some dried meat, fishing line and hooks, my gun and a small dog who was a squirrel hunter of the first order.

My boat was a small flat-bottomed craft with no motor. I would either float with the current or paddle the entire trip. I took no tent and only the crudest of bedrolls, no warm sleeping bag.

Within an hour of pushing off from shore, nature began to work its magic upon my soul. I quickly fell into a different reality. Because of the high bluff banks of the river, most of the modern world was blocked from my view and my world quickly became the softly flowing current of the river. My days soon became hostage to the slow, quiet solitude of the river. I would spend most of the daylight hours floating on the water then, just before sunset I would pull over to shore and make camp. My little squirrel dog, Trouble, would sit in the front of the boat all day long scanning the banks of the river, on the lookout for game. When he spotted a squirrel or rabbit he would start to bark and I would pull over and let him out to do his thing. That evening both of us would relax around a campfire and feast on whatever game we had managed to kill.

Some days I would find a particularly nice section of water where the fish abounded and I would make a more permanent camp and spend a few days fishing and enjoying myself, I was in no hurry.

Slowly but surely, the River healed me as I knew it would. I spent my nights sitting by the fire and talking to Trouble, telling him of all the garbage that had driven me to make the trip and he would sit across from me with his little head cocked to one side as if considering what he was being told and mulling over the best advise he should give. I would then spend blessed nights with no nightmares and wake up the next morning just a little better than the night before.

Solitude can almost be a narcotic sometimes. Once you enter that cocoon of silence and aloneness it is hard to give it up. At one point, near the end of my journey, I rounded a bend in the river and was faced with other people. I was close to a town and the river was full of boats, from bank to bank. People were taking advantage of the annual White Bass run. When I saw them I was filled with a cold dread....there they were in their expensive bass boats and their LL Bean outdoor wear, drinking beer, laughing and talking, throwing their trash overboard to float on the current. They sounded, for all the world like a flock of black birds, cawing and crowing and making a general uproar and their noise assaulted my ears.

I silently threaded my way through the throng of large power boats, looking neither left or right and finally rounded another bend in the river which hid the sight of them from my eyes.

I knew then that the trip was almost over. I was fast coming to my final destination....the world.

When I pulled up to my appointed spot to leave the river I hesitated...was I ready? Did I really want to come back?

Yes.

Nature had done its job well and my mind was once more at peace...I could return to the world now, but a part of me would forever remain on the river. It is there today...a part of me. I don't know if I will ever return, at least for the reason I made the first trip. Nowadays I have something even better to calm my wounded soul. Now, if ever I need that solace again, I have it right here at home....my wife.

** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **




this was me at the beginning of the trip. Don't laugh but the hat was actually a replica of a real hat worn by mountain men of the era.
 

I woke up this morning to find some exciting news in my WDC inbox. The Best Public Journal contest had been judged and the winners were announced.

I was delighted to see that First and Second place was judged just the way I would have judged them. First place went to Rasputin and second place was awarded to sentimente.

Both of these bloggers richly deserve recognition for their wonderful blogs and if any of you have not yet read entries by these two guys, then do yourself a favor and START NOW, you will not be dissappointed.

Here is the link in case you would like to see more of the contest....

ID: 1059827 Invalid Item  This item number is not valid. by Not Available.

I am about to head out to work but I wanted to make a small entry today, mostly to thank some very special people.

Thank you, Sarah ,Scarlett and susanL For the great Merit Badges. Having a birthday does have an up-side after all!

I also want to thank Scarlett for the nice awardicon she gave me for The Blogville Weekly News.

Oh and thank you so much Schipperke for the beautiful Birthday C-Note.

You guys are simply the best!
 

Blog Warning: It's all about me today so anyone not wanting to read self-indulgent ramblings...stop now!

I saw an old man today. That, in and of itself is not big news nor all that noteworthy but this was different.

I was standing at my door, shortly after lunch and there was a steady flow of people coming and going. I was fairly busy, directing customers to where they can find certain items, marking returns and checking outgoing reciepts.

I was marking a customer's return items when the old man came tottering through the door. I'm not sure what made me look up, maybe some sixth sense that a special man was nearing my position, I don't know.

I looked up just as he made his way unsteadily through the inner door and into the store. I quickly finished what I was doing then turned my attention to the man.

He was over eighty if he was a day. His body was bent with age and his face was weathered from the years of wind and sun. He walked in short, shuffling steps, helped along by a cane and his head was bent with the effort of moving.

In spite of all this, there was something about the man. I was sure of it when he neared me and looked up at me. It was his eyes. There was a fire there and he gave off a sense of a certain hardness...not of body anylonger but of spirit. I could see a core in the man of pure steel.

Maybe it is the writer in me that caused me to see these things, maybe it is a certain shared experience the man and I had.

Just with this glance I could see this was an old warrior. He was one of a vanishing breed of man, one who had answered the call some sixty odd years ago and had marched off to battle the greatest evil ever to threaten the world up to that date.

Sixty years ago this shell of a man I saw before me had been a strong, brave young man who had eagerily left all he loved behind him and joined the fight to free Europe from a Monster.

This old man, like so many of his generation, gave all they had to free the world from the Nazi scrouge and he came home, wounded but not broken. He then quietly took up his life as if nothing had happened and raised a family and work. But still he had been a warrior and that warrior still lived somewhere deep inside the wasted body....I could see it.

I decided to test my theory about this man. As he walked in front of my position I straightened up to attention and snapped off a sharp salute.

"Good afternoon, Sir." I called out loudly.

The old man gave me a small, wintery, ghost of a smile and returned the salute with some sharpness.

"Carry on, son." he answered me in a voice almost a whisper but he straightened noticably, walked a bit surer and leaned less on the cane than he had a moment before.....

Yeah, he was one of the old warriors. One of the men we all owe so much to, one of the men we will never be able to repay adaquately, a man who wants nothing from us but our respect. We lose hundreds of these old warriors to old age every day, we lose our history with them.

Next time you see one of these old warriors give them a salute and maybe a thank-you...they earned it.
 

Today I am going to attempt to shed a little light upon the somewhat sorid past of one of our members.

As many of you might be aware, CCstring (Mr. Blink,Blink) went into my buddy,PlannerDan 's blog and started throwing about the insults. He cast verbal abuse upon my friend's scrawny leg parts. He insinuated that the dog was only there because of a porkchop (the dog was stuffed, you nit-wit!).

He did all of this because, in his words, it was way to quiet at the moment on the blog page and he needed to get some stuff started.

So, of course my buddy Dan got quite incensed and flung some name calling at ole CC who then did what he does best of all in the whole world....He started running in circles, squeeling like an old woman and begging the wimmen to help him cause the bullies were beating up on him!

This whole scenerio is not new to me, I have seen it played out in many variations over the past five years or so. Unfortunately I am usually the one who is the target of Mr. Blink,Blink's games.

So today I thought I would share some of Mr. Blink,Blink's sorid past with you all and let you SEE what kind of sick puppy you are jumping to aid.

Today I would like to share with you the saga of Bucky, the Abused Monkey.

You see, a long time ago, in a chat room far, far away Mr. Blink,Blink (then known as CCstring) use to come in and brag about his pet. Now that in it self is not unusual, we all talked about our pets, but CC, not to be outdone, talked instead about his pet monkey, Buckey who he kept in his shed.

He was constantly spouting off about Buckey did this and buckey and him did that.....

Well we were all starting to wonder about this mystery monkey that CC kept in his shed. CC refused to show us a picture of said simian so we started to worry that maybe CC had something to hide...maybe he was mistreating this sad little animal..who knows.

So, as it would happen, one night he was in the chat room, regaling the wimmen in there with his stories of Buckey. I was there and soon I began to field some conserned "whispers" from chatters wondering what was up with the whole monkey thing. I told them I would, in my capacity as a manager, try to get to the bottom of the story.

So, in the open room I typed:CC, there is some consern amoung our members that you might be abusing that poor monkey. Tell me, is it true; Do you STILL spank your monkey?

Well, you could have heard a pin drop. Nobody typed anything for a moment then suddenly CC came to life.

CC typed: NO! I mean YES....I mean NOOOOO. I WANT MY MOMMY!!!!

I had him. Whatever he answered could be taken wrong and he knew it!

Needless to say, CC left the chatroom with his tail between his legs. It was shortly thereafter when I personally led a rescue mission and busted poor Buckey out of that dreaded shed. He came to Houston and spent that Christmas with Mel and I and he had a wonderful time.

After awhile though Buckey became restless. He had spent his whole life in that cramped, dirty shed and now that he had his freedom he wanted to see some of the world.

We bid a sad farewell to Buckey who set off to travel across the country making new friends. The last I heard of Buckey he was living with a female undertaker near Miami Beach, spending his days drinking fruity drinks with little umbrellas in them and checking out the hot babes on the beach.

Now I know that many of you will doubt this tale I have told you and that's okay, I expect a bit of doubt from those whom CC has duped in the past.

So, I have decided, over the next few days, to post proof in the form of PICTURES. I am sure, after seeing all the evidence, you will change your mind about Mr. Blink,Blink and join Dan, Hubby and myself in fighting the REAL DARK LORD!
 

It is Saturday. Life is good, the grass is green, the birds are singing and pollyana's the world over are skipping through meadows, picking wild flowers and singing the Happy Song.

Damn the noise anyway! Why can't they just shut up and let me grump the day away in relative peace.

Yeah, yeah, I know...I need to count my blessings. Well pardon me; I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. Actually I was AWAKENED and rather rudely, I might add, by Mel's furry alarm clock!

I mean, really, ITS SATRUDAY, I DIDN'T HAVE TO GET UP SO EARLY! But unfortunately, Mel had other ideas so at the crack of dawn (9:00 a.m.) she opened the bedroom door and yelled to Molly: "GO GET HIM UP GIRL!"

That's all it took for me to be instantly struck amidship by a 90lb furry torpedo, intent on licking me back into the waking world.

Well I stumbled out of bed, growling and grumbling and the very first thing I had to do, according to Mel, was go in the spare room and check on the newest member of our family......yeah...she did it again.

Someone at school had a dang hampster they were going to dispose of so of course the animal kingdom's answer to Mother Theresa just HAD to intervine.

Our newest family member is now happily encounced in the spare room, in his brand new cage. Oh yeah, before I forget....his name is Harrison L. Hampster. I voted that we call him "Prince Harry" simply because a hampster seems to me to be about as useful as a member of a royal family anyway. I was "outvoted".

Now I have this three ounce ball of fur that stands on his hindlegs and waves at me.....WONDERFUL.

I tried to get Mel to let him play with the cats....she was not amused.

So, here I sit in a living room that, as I look around just now, I realize is strangely quiet....what's going on...let me go check this out....

Okay, I'm back and now I know why the living room is so quiet and I also know why Mel wanted me up outta bed so early. As I type this, Mel, the four cats and Molly are all happily aboard the good ship, "Tor's Bed" with the covers up to their chin and watching TV.

I wonder if Harry has any room for me in the spare bedroom? Happy Saturday folks!

Btw..."Invalid Entry"  is ready, in case you want to check it out.
 

This is a Newsletter alert. THE BLOGVILLE WEEKLY NEWS, LATEST ISSUE IS NOW READY FOR YOUR READING PLEASURE! "Invalid Entry"  Please go check out not only our talented guest editor this week, Cassie Reynolds but also check out the cool new format which she also developed for the Newsletter.
 

Author's note: Since most of my favorite bloggers have written wonderful entries based on their memories of their youth I have finally decided to give it a try...well, kinda. Is this where the disclaimer goes... WHAT YOU READ HERE IS NOT NECESSARILY WHAT REALLY HAPPENED...SO DON'T SUE ME!

********************************

I WAS BORN, DAMNIT!

I mean, really, it wasn't my idea to come out of my "safe place". I was perfectly content, floating there in that nice, quiet, dark womb. I was happy spending my days contemplating mom's eating habits and sucking my little thumb.

Ever notice how time flys when you are having fun? That's the way it happened with me. Who knew nine months would pass so damn fast. It seemed like one minute I was entertaining myself bouncing on mom's bladder, making her run to the bathroom and the next minute I was on this downward spiriling roller-coaster, headed out into the big, bad world.

I still remember the doctor slapping my little hands to make me turn loose of the sides and slide on out.

"OHHHH GOD, NOOOOOOOO!"

PLOP.

And there I was, being held by some giant female in green scrubs making these God awful cooing noises at me and all the time my poor little body is being subjected to all this terrible LIGHT and NOISE!

I gotta tell ya...those first few days were the most traumatic times of my life. Gone was all that comfortable silence, now I was surrounded by PEOPLE...gawd they are all so freaking BIG!

However, I soon found a new hobby: Training Big People.

It truely was fun. I discovered that all I had to do was lay there on my back, in my crib and let out a loud wail...ALL THE BIG PEOPLE WOULD COME RUNNING!

Then all I had to do was continue to cry until they did what I required, though sometimes I really didn't need anything at all. I would just cry to see how fast they could run. Now that's a hoot!

The most fun was my big brother. He was nine when I was kidnapped from the womb and I guess being out in the world for nine years had dumbed him down considerably. Sometimes he would attempt to change my diaper and that would always afford me the opportunity to practice my marksmanship.

Once he had my diaper off he was fair game. I would take careful aim with my little "pee-shooter" and SPLAT! He would recieve a face full of my personal liquid. I got so good at my aim that I would wait until his mouth was partially open...consentrating on the task at hand...and I would deliver a shot right between his open lips!

Oh man, the resultant gasping and spitting and choking would afford me hours of pleasure.

Well that's about the extent of how I spent my first months...fun but still not as nice as my former home. But what's a baby to do.

 

TIME!

I woke up this morning knowing that I would not have to leave for work until 2p.m. Plenty of time to read my favorite blogs and write my own blog entry. I read a few blogs and even made some comments. Then Mel wanted on to read HER favs. I let her online, no problem I HAD PLENTY OF TIME.

She finished and I jumped back online about 11 a.m. and discovered my server had suddenly went down!

TIME! I STILL WASN'T WORRIED...I STILL HAD TIME.

This has happened before...never lasts longer than an hour at the most.

2 p.m.......TIME TO GO TO WORK....STILL NO INTERNET!!

TIME HAS SUDDENLY BEGUN TO SQUEEZE ME BY THE SHORT HAIRS!

WDC goes by EASTERN STANDARD TIME! I live in CENTRAL STANDARD TIME...when it is midnight on the east coast...it is only 11 pm where I live!

WHAT AM I GONNA DO? I GET OFF WORK AT 11!!!

I cut out early...I got home by 10:30pm....I HAD INTERNET!!

I PUNCHED THE "BLOG PAGE" AND THEN PULLED UP MY BLOG..

I STILL HAD TIME!!!!

It is now 10:45 my time...I have 15 mins. I have made it! I slid in right under the wire! MY DAY IS BLUE!!

DAYUUUMMM!! I am exhausted! I need a drink and my recliner! This dang blogging stuff is hard work!

GOOD NIGHT FOLKS!
 

This is a throw-away entry. I usually suffer a black day on Wednesdays because of my work schedule..not enough time before work to get into a real blog subject and not enough time after work because of the time limits here on WDC before they change to the next day's date. So I usually just let it go "black" with no entry.

This being the first day of the month, I really didn't want to start out with a missed day so I will just slap this in here.....

I have noticed, lately, that many bloggers are writing
memoiries. I am not brave enough to do that. Oh I will share little glimpses of my youth and stuff like that but to chronicle my personal history....I guess I am just too private a person to be able to do that.

My hat's off to all of you who have chosen to write these things...you are much braver than I am and I read every one of them even though I rarely comment on them. After all, what can I say...it is your story and it happened to you. What I have seen is a wonderful collection of writing expertise. You have all done a wonderful job telling your life story and I love the entries.

I spoke of "bravery" up there, well let me clearify that a bit. It takes a certain amount of courage just to blog in general. Especially if you blog on topical subjects from time to time. You are putting your beliefs and ideas out there for the general public and allowing all to read them and comment. That takes courage because there will always be those who disagree and you open yourself up to opposing points of view. Open honest debate is a good thing but it can be daunting sometimes. Each of you show courage by putting yourself out there for EVERYONE even though it would be easy to remain private and only share with like minded friends. You who show this courage have my admiration....you are a great bunch of folks who, even if I don't agree with some of your ideas, I applaud your courage for sharing them with the world....Bloggers here are a very special breed of people...I love them!
 

Do you know how hard it is to keep a fire burning? You have to continually feed it material to burn every time the flames die down and threaten to go out...it is a constant job.

Now picture yourself out in the cold forest with the wind whipping and everything covered with wet snow. You are commited to keeping that fire burning...it is your life-line, it keeps you safe and it keeps you warm. You give that fire your full attention don't you.

The same can be said of marriage. Oh its easy to get the fire going...at first. I mean that old flame will soar high and burn bright and hot...at first. Then time passes, the flame of romance burns low while all around you a cold wind blows and threatens to extinguish the fire completely, leaving you in the cold. You must make the decision and the commitment to keep the fire burning.

Like I said...Love is easy....A stable marriage is hard work. For those of you out there who are young and have yet to be married, please don't go into marriage, when you reach that point, saying: "I want a partner who will share the marriage with me 50/50."

I hate to tell you this but 50/50 won't get it done. When you are married and you are commited to making the marriage the best you can make it, you and your partner will need to give 100/100!

That's right, it takes 100% effort by BOTH people to make a marriage work. Just as if both of you were tending that campfire....it takes 100% effort from both of you to make it burn brightly.

Taking that vow to keep the flame of your marriage burning brightly is not something to be entered into lightly and by the same token, it is not to be cast aside easily either. It all takes 100%

Now I know all this to be true through my own experiences. For too long I gave less than 100% and it almost cost me the gentle fire I needed to survive. Now I take special effort to do my hundred precent and help my dear wife to tend the flame.

As to my own shortcomings in tending the flame, I will not go into here. Not because I am hesitant to air my mistakes, but because I have written this without first consulting my beloved partner. If she ever gave me the okay to go into that subject or if she wrote about it herself, then maybe I would be inclined to share with you. Just believe me when I say I have been there and experienced what I write about.
********************************

I really didn't mean to preach at you today....I just felt I needed to share my ideas, somewhat, about marriage. I have been blessed with a damn good one, through nothing I personally did to earn it. I want everyone to know the joy and the hard work entailed in living the peaceful life of a strong marriage with someone whom you love and RESPECT.


Okay...I'm shutting up now!
 

I have never hidden the fact that, at heart, I am nothing more than a country boy...a Bubba of the first order. Even if I had not told you this over and over, most of you could have picked up on the fact just by reading my simi-literate ramblings in here.

Well the other day a I read something on our local, town message board that brought back to me my childhood in a way. It was a list of "country" sayings and pithy little gems of wisdom meant to cause a laugh...and it did, but it also made me remember my past...with a smile. I found, as I read the list, that most of them I had heard before. I had heard them from my dad, my uncles and my granddad. They had passed many of these on to me, not for ammusment but to educate me as to the way of the world and how I should comport myself as a member of the human race.

Here is the list and I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed revisiting many of my family's words of advise.
*************************************

An Old Farmer's Advice:

1. Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight, and bull-strong.

2. Keep skunks and bankers and lawyers at a distance.

3. Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.

4. A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.

5. Words that soak into your ears are whispered...not yelled.

6. Meanness don't jes' happen overnight.

7.Forgive your enemies. It messes up their heads.

8. Do not corner something that you know is meaner than you.

9. It don't take a very big person to carry a grudge.

10. You cannot unsay a cruel word
.
11. Every path has a few puddles.

12. When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

13. The best sermons are lived, not preached.

14. Most of the stuff people worry about ain't never gonna happen, anyway.

15. Don't judge folks by their relatives.

16. Remember that silence is sometimes the best answer.

17. Live a good, honorable life.? Then when you get older and think back, you'll enjoy it a second time.

18. Don't interfere with somethin' that ain't botherin' you none.

19. Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

20. If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin'.

21. Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

22. The biggest troublemaker you'll probably ever have to deal with, watches you from the mirror every mornin'.

23. Always drink upstream from the herd.

24. Good judgment comes from experience, and a lotta that comes from bad judgment.

25. Lettin' the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin' it back in.

26. If you get to thinkin' you're a person of some influence, try orderin' somebody else's dog around.

27. Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.
********************************

Uh...I would like to add that if there are any bankers or lawyers out there...No offense meant!


 

Off Topic: I just want to let you all know that sometime yesterday evening my blog views passed 10,000 and I would like to thank each and every one of you who have read my blog in the past...wither or not you agreed with what I wrote, you still read and for that I am eternally grateful.

******************************************

Some baggage should be left behind with the passing years. Some worries that plagued us as young adults should, by rights, be left in the past in order for us to enjoy our "golden" years in relative peace...but that is not always the case.

The past few weeks Mel has not been her normal cheerful self, hell she even snapped at Molly and the cats a few times. Of course, me being the sensitive male type person that I am, just chalked it up to her being a cranky old woman and didn't give it another thought.

Well today, when I came home from work she met me at the door all smiles. There was evidence of the old bounce in her step and she was downright "Playfull".

Here again, me being the sensitive male type guy that I am, I had to ask her: "Okay, what gives? Did you increase my life insurance or sumptin?"

She just smiled and gave me a little peck on the cheek and said: "No, silly man. The test was NEGATIVE."

"WHAT, what test? Hell this is Sunday, the doctor's office is closed and besides...WHAT TEST DID YOU TAKE?"

I was starting to panic. Was she sick and didn't even tell me about it? A thousand things were flying through my head.

Then she smiled at me, her face mirroring her relief, and said: "The Pregnacy Test I got at the store the other day. I took it and its negative!"

"Oh", I said. Then her words finally sunk into my thick brain..... "PREGNACY TEST!" I yelled, my voice breaking like a little girl's. "YOU BOUGHT A PREGNACY TEST AT MY STORE AND THEN TOOK IT???"

"Yes, sweetie. But don't worry, it turned out negative, like I told you."

At that moment I felt as though someone had just walked across my grave. I felt the wind from the passing of the huge bullet which I had just dodged as it flew past my THICK HEAD. I was suddenly quite faint and I crawled over to my recliner and collapsed.

"You mean to tell me," I muttered, "that there was a CHANCE that you could have been pregnate?"

"But...but..but...YOU'RE 53 YEARS OLD!"

"Well, silly," she said, "what did you expect? I am still having periods afterall...there is a chance."

"THEN WHY THE HELL HAVN'T YOU BEEN TAKING THE PILL?" I managed to yell.

"Because the doctor told me that I had as much chance of getting pregnate as a woman who is on the pill, so I figured, why worry. Besides it saves us money."

"You do know," I said sharply, "that women get pregnate on the pill every day."

"Yes but not many of them are my age," She answered.

Well that tears it....Now I'm gonna make an appointment to get fixed...uh...if, that is, I can find someone who does microsurgery!!!

People our age should not have to worry about this stuff. We should be able to finally enjoy a little unprotected fun and games without that particular sword hanging over our heads.

Besides all that...SHE BOUGHT THE DANG TEST AT MY STORE! Oh I know I'm gonna hear about this....all the cashiers KNOW her. They know she is my wife!

I know...I'm gonna tell them she's been messing around with some YOUNG guy!


 

It has been awhile since I have embarrassed myself by telling tales from my past so I figured...why not!

So, come on along with me. Let's jump in the Way Back Machine with Peabody and Sherman and set the date for July 9, 1961.

What, you ask, is the significance of this date? Well it has absolutely no significance, historically but to a group of five young boys from the age of 13 to 16 this date will forever stand out in their memory as the night they all learned that Man was not necessarily the top of the food chain.

Each summer this group made it a point to spend each weekend that they could all get free of jobs and chores at a deer-camp deep in the East Texas woods. The camp belonged to my father and uncle. It consisted of a ramshackle old one room cabin which set in a small clearing in the middle of 700 acres of forest land that my dad and uncle had leased for hunting.

The cabin served as the hunting headquarters during deer season, in the fall and winter but in the summer it was never used....except by myself and my group of buddies. The cabin consisted of one large room, with cots set up at one end and a small kitchen at the opposite end. There was no running water, electricty or plumbing. We loved that place!

The weekend in question we all met up at my house Friday afternoon and loaded into my dad's old 57 chevy truck..three in the front and two sitting in the back....for the ten mile trip, over country backroads (the only place I was allowed to drive without a license)to the hunting camp.

We had big plans for this particular weekend. Besides the normal Baccanial pleasures of eating weenies and beans cooked over an open fire (dad insisted we not cook in the cabin)and consuming a case of beer which my buddy, Jimmy Holden had managed to get an older brother to buy for us, we were going to hunt COUGAR!

Friday night was given over to the pleasures listed above and an all night poker game played with matches since none of us had more than two dollars to our name. The next day, Saturday, we all were forced to sleep in late due to the debilitating effects of beer upon young bodies. We spent the afternoon swimming and fishing in the small lake just north of the cabin.

As evening approached and the sun dipped below the horizon, we all begin to quietly, seriously, ready ourselves for the adventure ahead. We cleaned and loaded our wide assortment of weapons which consisted of everything from .22 rifles to small 20 gauge single-shot shotguns.

Excitement ran through the camp like a current of electricity. After all, none of us had ever hunted such a dangerous animal before...of course it never dawned on any of us "great white hunters" that none of our weapons were actually BIG enough to kill a cougar.

All we knew was that a couple of weeks prior, word had spread through the local farms and ranches that cougar tracks had been found near a slaughtered cow and the alarm had been raised! Now, according to my dad, cougar were extremely rare in our part of Texas, but not unheard of. Of course me and my buddies immediately vowed to bring down this terrible monster and become the local heros of Polk County! Since our hunting camp was very close by to where the cougar tracks and the slaughtered cow was found, we figured we stood a good chance of sucess.

As night fell we gathered up our weapons and flashlights and headed off into the dark and foreboding forest to stalk our prey.

About three hours into the hunt our group found itself in a dry creek bed with high, bluff banks on either side of us. My buddy, Donald Rosecrans and I were walking at the head of the single file of hunters mainly because we were the only two who had the slightest idea what "tracking" was all about. It was Donald who first spotted the cat's track in the creek bed.

We froze in amazement when his light played over the huge track. It was then that I suddenly realized that this was a totally differnt breed of critter than I was use to tracking. I had never in my life seen a CAT track that damn big. For some reason all I could picture in my mind was not the American cougar, but the giant, African lion!

What if.....

Would he.....

All these dire thoughts were running through my head as we gathered around the track in the darkness, Donald's light shining on the big, wicked looking track.

A few of the others began to mumble something about maybe returning to camp and waiting for daylight and we all started looking about us, trying to penetrate the dark landscape outside the sphere of our lights.

I was just about to launch into my morale boosting speech about how "we can do this!" and "It ain't nothing but a dang cat, for God's sake", when the silence of the night was shattered by an ear-splitting roar/growl/scream (about the best I can descirbe the cougars sound).

The beams of five flashlights went up, in unison, held by shaking hands. The combined lights lit up the top of one high bank of the creek bed and the large form of a full grown cougar standing there looking down at us puny humans with anger and distain!

Everything seemed to happen at once then. I reacted purely by instinct and fired my 20 gauge shotgun from the hip, with the barrel more or less aimed upward in the general direction of the cat. The load struck about halfway up the creek bank and a good four feet UNDER the cougar and in the process, the pellets blew off Donalds hat! How I kept from shooting him in the head is still a mystery.

Donald, feeling his hat blow off and deafened by the blast of my gun decided that the cougar had jumped on him and he ran off into the darkness squealing like a stuck pig. The rest of us, being made of sterner stuff, lasted another three seconds before we all threw down our useless guns and ran right along behind him!

We didn't stop until we were safely back at the cabin, inside, with the door locked! At first we were afraid that the cougar had, in fact, taken one of our number because Jimmy had not made it back with the rest of us. Our fears were eased when he showed up a full twenty minutes behind the rest of us. Seems he had found running difficult after having a rather smelly accident in his pants when the cougar screamed.

That was the end of the Great Cougar Safari. Jimmy threw away his pants after changing into a spare pair he had luckily brought along and we all made a scared pact never to reveal what had happened that week-end.

We kept that pact until this day....Okay, shows over. Everyone please make your way into the Way Back Machine and let's see if Prof. Peabody and Sherman can get us back to the present day, shall we...oh and I better not catch any of you telling ANYONE about this!