Back in July, just after I'd had a close call with an internal bleeding problem, I vowed to get at least one book in print by September. I made it . . . but barely, and I worked my butt off getting it done. October and November were also busy months, and I ended up getting another six books published. Then I hit the wall, stopped working on books, and it isn't because I wanted to. Although there's no rush at this stage of the game, I'm disappointed.
Getting books in print offers some rewards and some disappointments. I should be excited, but I'm not, and that means the disappointments outnumber the rewards. I'm satisfied with most of the books now in print, but they're not my best work. A number of unused manuscripts had piled up around here, and since I hate to see time and effort wasted, the decision was made to go with them first. Some of those books had been written nearly 30 years ago, and reworking them, getting them in decent shape for publication, was difficult for several reasons. I've changed over the years, and what I thought was a good story then didn't measure up to my expectations as of late . . . and making changes can be dangerous business for a writer. In some ways, I was a better writer back then because I was excited about the work. My muse was singing to me, urging me to be creative. She still comes around from time to time, but not like when I was younger and full of ideas . . . and energy.
Zeus supposedly had nine daughers the Greeks called Muses. Creative people owe their inspiration to whatever muse attends them, and I'm sure one of them found me. I still do good work from time to time when it comes to composing stories, but the hard work of refining that work, making it fit for publications, needs more than inspiration; it needs determination and attention to detail. Is there a muse for that? If so, mine took a hike, went on vacation. And without the muse, you're just wasting time trying to write.
I feel some stirrings, however - just a faint and distant voice urging me to go back to work. I'm 90 percent finished with what is perhaps my best work as an author, a trilogy called Madrone. All three books are written, have been submitted for printing but lack proofing and final approval from me. And I can't pull the trigger. These are new stories, recent creations, and they are a departure from the writings I've produced in the past. Maybe that's what troubles me, makes me less confident about them. But I know they're good work, and I don't want to mess them up with poor proofing and last minute changes. I need my muse. Sing, baby, sing!
Monday, December 30, 2013
Sunday, December 29, 2013
SUNDAY IS DUMBDAY
For millions of American Sunday is a church day, and for others, it's a day of rest and recreation. People who have jobs that require concentration and a critical thought process may look at Sunday as dumbday, a day that requires nothing mentally taxing. That's the way I've always seen Sundays, as dumbday. And today is my day to do little or no thinking. Maybe that's why they play professional footabll on Sundays.
I used to be a big time football fan, but those days are long gone. Watching a football game from start to finish is something I haven't done in a long time. Professional football is too systematic, too refined and machine like . . . and boring. It's good background sound to sleep to. But there are other things that require even less thought process than watching football. Thank God soccer isn't all that popular here in the U.S. The only thing exciting about a soccer match is the announcer. I could watch golf, but that's sort of like watching paint dry. I used to play golf, but I hate watching it. That puts it in the same category with masturbation - fun to do, no fun to watch.
And because today is dumbday, it's a perfect day for a dumb blog, which this one surely is.
I used to be a big time football fan, but those days are long gone. Watching a football game from start to finish is something I haven't done in a long time. Professional football is too systematic, too refined and machine like . . . and boring. It's good background sound to sleep to. But there are other things that require even less thought process than watching football. Thank God soccer isn't all that popular here in the U.S. The only thing exciting about a soccer match is the announcer. I could watch golf, but that's sort of like watching paint dry. I used to play golf, but I hate watching it. That puts it in the same category with masturbation - fun to do, no fun to watch.
And because today is dumbday, it's a perfect day for a dumb blog, which this one surely is.
Rousseau Got It RIght . . . Almost
I majored in political science in undergraduate school (double major with history), then went to graduate school at three different universities. I picked out areas of emphasis that would get me jobs as a professor - public administration, American government, comparative governments, foreign relations, etc. And because they made me, I took quite a few courses in political theory, and that's what touched off a love for philosophy. That was a sideline thing, something I never specialized in or taught during my years as a professor . . . but I love it. One of my farorite political theorists is Rousseau, and I particularly like what he had to say about how government originated.
Rousseau would have liked government with limited powers, but he lived in a time when just the reverse was true. One of his comments that caught my attention was a lament. He said the first person who erected a fence or dug a ditch around a spot of land and then had the audacity to call it his own was the originator of civil government. We would've been better off had that man been told to fill in the ditch, tear down the fence, because he was the cause of lots of suffering . . . and that's because he forced upon all of us the necessity for government.
In this day and age Rousseau's words still carry weight. He was right, but only to a degree. Government has become mankind's best friend, and our worst enemy. Big Brother is bipolar, and that wears hard on all of us. He gives us liberty, then takes it away. He plows the ground for us to plant seed, and then he burdens us with tax and regulation on what grows from our labors. He can hold us like a babe in arms at times, but he also slaps us around when we don't behave according to his mandates. Big Brother is sometimes a saint, sometimes the devil . . . and sometimes the mean-spirited side of him blinds us to the good he does. I don't like Big Brother. I'd like to send him off to treatment, subject him to a complete overhaul, make him into something we could look up to and be proud of all the time. But is that possible? Probably not, but that doesn't mean we have to like him the way he is.
The first of every year brings about a new tax season. By April, income tax is due, and even before that (at least here in Texas), there's property tax to pay. Some taxes, like sales tax, aren't seasonal, but they're still a bother. I don't mind income tax because it's proportional, based on the ability to pay. I detest sales tax and property tax. If you build it, they will come . . . and tax the crap out of it. And that's not Big Brother doing it because he's not into the property tax business like the state and local governments are. Little Brother is now a bigger problem than Big Brother when it comes to taxation, and most people fail to see that. And even if they do see it, they like it better because it's tax money that home folks take from you for schools, etc. I pay a lot more tax dollars to state and local government than to the federal government . . . a lot more, like at least twice as much. I wouldn't even mind that so much if it weren't so inequitable, but that's another story, and I'm about done with this little rant.
In fact, I am done.
Rousseau would have liked government with limited powers, but he lived in a time when just the reverse was true. One of his comments that caught my attention was a lament. He said the first person who erected a fence or dug a ditch around a spot of land and then had the audacity to call it his own was the originator of civil government. We would've been better off had that man been told to fill in the ditch, tear down the fence, because he was the cause of lots of suffering . . . and that's because he forced upon all of us the necessity for government.
In this day and age Rousseau's words still carry weight. He was right, but only to a degree. Government has become mankind's best friend, and our worst enemy. Big Brother is bipolar, and that wears hard on all of us. He gives us liberty, then takes it away. He plows the ground for us to plant seed, and then he burdens us with tax and regulation on what grows from our labors. He can hold us like a babe in arms at times, but he also slaps us around when we don't behave according to his mandates. Big Brother is sometimes a saint, sometimes the devil . . . and sometimes the mean-spirited side of him blinds us to the good he does. I don't like Big Brother. I'd like to send him off to treatment, subject him to a complete overhaul, make him into something we could look up to and be proud of all the time. But is that possible? Probably not, but that doesn't mean we have to like him the way he is.
The first of every year brings about a new tax season. By April, income tax is due, and even before that (at least here in Texas), there's property tax to pay. Some taxes, like sales tax, aren't seasonal, but they're still a bother. I don't mind income tax because it's proportional, based on the ability to pay. I detest sales tax and property tax. If you build it, they will come . . . and tax the crap out of it. And that's not Big Brother doing it because he's not into the property tax business like the state and local governments are. Little Brother is now a bigger problem than Big Brother when it comes to taxation, and most people fail to see that. And even if they do see it, they like it better because it's tax money that home folks take from you for schools, etc. I pay a lot more tax dollars to state and local government than to the federal government . . . a lot more, like at least twice as much. I wouldn't even mind that so much if it weren't so inequitable, but that's another story, and I'm about done with this little rant.
In fact, I am done.
Saturday, December 28, 2013
GETTING READY FOR 2014
I'm not much of a planner, and there's no way I'm going to strap myself with resolutions for the new year . . . but, we all need to have some purpose in life. Instead of resolving to do something (or avoid doing something), and without making definite plans to do anything in particular (or avoid doing anything), I'll work toward some goals. Here's my list.
1) Work harder, and I'm talking physical labor here. That means yardwork, repairs on the house, fix-ups at the shop, etc.
2) Work on books, but in a more relaxed way than I went about it the last half of 2013. I usually make less mistakes when I slow down.
3) Get new computer equipment. This is a must do thing, since the ones I have now are old and grumpy . . . like me.
4) Spent more time with my friends, something I haven't done the past few years.
5) Take a vacation, haven't done that in a long time.
6) Save money (ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha).
7) Be nicer to my wife (this is mostly her idea). Also a must do.
8) Build at least a half dozen guitars.
9) Watch less television, play with my toys more (cameras, vintage stereo equipment, guitars, fiddles, mandolins, accordions)
10) Get back to songwriting and poetry.
11) Get my teeth fixed.
12) Make more money. I'll have to do this to get the teeth fixed.
OK, I'm getting depressed now, so I'll quit.
1) Work harder, and I'm talking physical labor here. That means yardwork, repairs on the house, fix-ups at the shop, etc.
2) Work on books, but in a more relaxed way than I went about it the last half of 2013. I usually make less mistakes when I slow down.
3) Get new computer equipment. This is a must do thing, since the ones I have now are old and grumpy . . . like me.
4) Spent more time with my friends, something I haven't done the past few years.
5) Take a vacation, haven't done that in a long time.
6) Save money (ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha).
7) Be nicer to my wife (this is mostly her idea). Also a must do.
8) Build at least a half dozen guitars.
9) Watch less television, play with my toys more (cameras, vintage stereo equipment, guitars, fiddles, mandolins, accordions)
10) Get back to songwriting and poetry.
11) Get my teeth fixed.
12) Make more money. I'll have to do this to get the teeth fixed.
OK, I'm getting depressed now, so I'll quit.
Friday, December 27, 2013
BLOGS: HOW ARE WE DOING?
I started using this site to blog about 3 months ago, and I knew going in that it takes a while to acquire an audience. I'm not new at this, got big into blogs years ago, then got bored with it and quit. Until recently, I haven't done much blogging, and that now includes sites here at Blogger and at Wordpress . . . and several less used sites at Weebly. This one gets the most views, about 1,700 since I started back in early October, and some 940 this past month. Nearly half the views come from Malaysia, and that surprises me. A few are coming from Europe. On the other sites I maintain, almost all the views are from the U.S. Overall, my blogs have had about 1,500 views this month (all sites), and that's only about fifty a day . . . not many. Still, Blogger is my best site, the one I like using the best. My attention span is short, meaning I get bored easily, but we'll stick with it a while and see what happens.
I'm not disappointed because I don't write blogs intended for mainstream readers, like those catchy things about politics or social issues, etc. I'll do one now and then, but mine are usually little lighthearted things, nothing of great importance. I write about books I've written or those I'm working on. I write about rural life, small town living, cats, and hobbies or crafts I pursue. And I write about life as an old guy, something a lot of folks don't even want to think about. Yeah, I'm old, and I can't do anything about that . . . other than write about it.
Over at Weebly, I maintain sites called Clowder Country (about cats), Hiram's Cove (about old people in a retirement village, based on a book I'm writing), and Philip Martin Cawlfield's Blogs, which is mostly about Texas (with pictures). Here at Blogger, I'm D. Paz Dalton, same as my site at Wordpress. Just thought I'd mention that, in case you'd like to check 'em out. If not, you know where to find me here. And, thanks for looking in.
I'm not disappointed because I don't write blogs intended for mainstream readers, like those catchy things about politics or social issues, etc. I'll do one now and then, but mine are usually little lighthearted things, nothing of great importance. I write about books I've written or those I'm working on. I write about rural life, small town living, cats, and hobbies or crafts I pursue. And I write about life as an old guy, something a lot of folks don't even want to think about. Yeah, I'm old, and I can't do anything about that . . . other than write about it.
Over at Weebly, I maintain sites called Clowder Country (about cats), Hiram's Cove (about old people in a retirement village, based on a book I'm writing), and Philip Martin Cawlfield's Blogs, which is mostly about Texas (with pictures). Here at Blogger, I'm D. Paz Dalton, same as my site at Wordpress. Just thought I'd mention that, in case you'd like to check 'em out. If not, you know where to find me here. And, thanks for looking in.
THIS IS FICTION. SHOULD I HAVE TO SAY THAT?
Someone recently read one of my books, then called me on the telephone wanting to know if the central character in the book was OK. The book didn't have an unhappy ending, but the reader was still concerned about what happened to him. Is he still alive? Did he go home and marry the woman he met in the story I'd written? What about the little boy? At first, I thought he didn't understand the story, but after a few moments it dawned on me that he thought the story was about a real life event. "It's fiction," I said. "I just made it up."
He was disappointed, and perhaps it shouldn't have, but that pleased me. He bought into my characters to the point they became real to him. The story was so real to him that he thought it really happened, and that left me wondering if I should point out right up front that the story is pure fiction. Would that spoil the story for the reader, make it less interesting for them? I just assumed that the reader would automatically know that, but what this particular reader said started me thinking about some things relating to fiction literature. My books are fiction, yes, but they are usually not highly fantastic. I write them with reality in mind. It's like I'm saying, "This didn't happen, but it sure could have."
The story in question here is called The Christmas Cowboy, and it's about an ageing saddle bronc rider making his last trip to the National Finals Rodeo. He's been a world champion in the past, but his best days are behind him and he comes to the finals nursing a bad leg. And then he meets a small child at a burn center, a remarkable little boy, and that changes him. It's not a novel story. In fact, I crafted the story back in the mid 1980s from a real life situation about a baseball player who connected with a youngster battling cancer. I saw him on television talking about how working with the kid changed him, made him realize that what he did as a baseball player was insignificant compared to what the child was up against. We've all been inspired by things like that . . . not that profound, perhaps, but at some level.
The man who called to ask about this book character, thinking he was real, is one of those inspirational characters himself. He's in a wheelchair due to a sniper's bullet back during the Vietnam war, and I've been witness to his struggle with that for the past ten years. He's a good craftsman, makes hunting knives, but he doesn't read much. His wife bought my book as a Christmas present for him, thinking he'd read it simply because I wrote it. He's listened to some of my rodeo stories before because we've had long conversations in the past. I'm delighted that he's reading the book, and I've got some presents for him myself. I don't know why I didn't think about him earlier, but in a week or two I'll drop by to see him with an armload of books. And we'll talk about fiction literature some, and I'll point out to him that even if the story is fiction, it's still real. It becomes real when you read something you connect with, and people connect with stories for different reasons. My friend knows what it's like to overcome difficult circumstances, and I've written a number of stories about situations like that. Maybe the characters in my stories are fictitious, but the situations there are most definitely real things in the lives of many people.
He was disappointed, and perhaps it shouldn't have, but that pleased me. He bought into my characters to the point they became real to him. The story was so real to him that he thought it really happened, and that left me wondering if I should point out right up front that the story is pure fiction. Would that spoil the story for the reader, make it less interesting for them? I just assumed that the reader would automatically know that, but what this particular reader said started me thinking about some things relating to fiction literature. My books are fiction, yes, but they are usually not highly fantastic. I write them with reality in mind. It's like I'm saying, "This didn't happen, but it sure could have."
The story in question here is called The Christmas Cowboy, and it's about an ageing saddle bronc rider making his last trip to the National Finals Rodeo. He's been a world champion in the past, but his best days are behind him and he comes to the finals nursing a bad leg. And then he meets a small child at a burn center, a remarkable little boy, and that changes him. It's not a novel story. In fact, I crafted the story back in the mid 1980s from a real life situation about a baseball player who connected with a youngster battling cancer. I saw him on television talking about how working with the kid changed him, made him realize that what he did as a baseball player was insignificant compared to what the child was up against. We've all been inspired by things like that . . . not that profound, perhaps, but at some level.
The man who called to ask about this book character, thinking he was real, is one of those inspirational characters himself. He's in a wheelchair due to a sniper's bullet back during the Vietnam war, and I've been witness to his struggle with that for the past ten years. He's a good craftsman, makes hunting knives, but he doesn't read much. His wife bought my book as a Christmas present for him, thinking he'd read it simply because I wrote it. He's listened to some of my rodeo stories before because we've had long conversations in the past. I'm delighted that he's reading the book, and I've got some presents for him myself. I don't know why I didn't think about him earlier, but in a week or two I'll drop by to see him with an armload of books. And we'll talk about fiction literature some, and I'll point out to him that even if the story is fiction, it's still real. It becomes real when you read something you connect with, and people connect with stories for different reasons. My friend knows what it's like to overcome difficult circumstances, and I've written a number of stories about situations like that. Maybe the characters in my stories are fictitious, but the situations there are most definitely real things in the lives of many people.
Thursday, December 26, 2013
SOME SECRETS SHOULDN'T BE KEPT
"So, how long have you been writing books? Why didn't I know about this?" she asked, holding one of my recently published books in her hand. "Oh, about 30 years," I said. She was surprised, even more surprised to learn that I have seven books in print. She's known me since Kindergarten when she became my daughter's best friend, and they're still close, like sisters. This woman spent so much time around my house that I've always thought of her as family, an adopted daugther. She's known me in that way, and also as a teacher, coach, and supporter. Now a high school teacher, she's raising two adopted daughters . . . little girls her younger sister gave up due to drug addiction. She grew up on a small ranch, has been pretty much a cowgirl her entire life . . . and now she's finding out that I write stories about contemporary cowboys. Some of my stories are about cowgirls too, and she took one of the books home with her last night.
I've never talked much about my work as a writer. I had other fish to fry back when I started trying to be an author, kept my little secret about the stories until just recently. And then I suddenly realized that I'm old, time is short, and if I ever wanted to see my stories in print, now's the time. The good thing about my long kept secret is that I built up a supply of manuscripts. The books I put in print first were stories I'd written some time back. Getting them in shape for publication took some rewrites, corrections, editing, and proof reading, a slow process. But now they're out there, and I'm starting to get some feedback. That encourages me to do more, and I'm looking forward to a busy 2014.
I'm learning something about being a published author that I didn't expect. What you put in print brings you back together with people you haven't seen in a while, and it brings you closer to people you spend a lot of time with. I got a call yesterday from a friend who lives on a farm some fifteen miles from here. He's a disabled Vietnam vet, and he seldom reads. His wife bought one of my books as a Christmas present for him, and he called to say how much he's been enjoying it. "I have a hard time reading 'cause I don't understand a lot of what I read, have to go over it several times, and don't like doing that. But I understand what you write." I didn't explain to him that I know why that is. He knows me. We've had lots of conversations, so he knows how I talk. And since he knows me, he's interested in reading what I write. Reading comprehension often hinges on the interest you have in what you read . . . and he's learning that. And I'm pleased. Maybe in our previous conversations I should've mentioned that I'm a writer.
. . . And maybe some secrets shouldn't be kept. A cat is always happier once it's out of the bag.
I've never talked much about my work as a writer. I had other fish to fry back when I started trying to be an author, kept my little secret about the stories until just recently. And then I suddenly realized that I'm old, time is short, and if I ever wanted to see my stories in print, now's the time. The good thing about my long kept secret is that I built up a supply of manuscripts. The books I put in print first were stories I'd written some time back. Getting them in shape for publication took some rewrites, corrections, editing, and proof reading, a slow process. But now they're out there, and I'm starting to get some feedback. That encourages me to do more, and I'm looking forward to a busy 2014.
I'm learning something about being a published author that I didn't expect. What you put in print brings you back together with people you haven't seen in a while, and it brings you closer to people you spend a lot of time with. I got a call yesterday from a friend who lives on a farm some fifteen miles from here. He's a disabled Vietnam vet, and he seldom reads. His wife bought one of my books as a Christmas present for him, and he called to say how much he's been enjoying it. "I have a hard time reading 'cause I don't understand a lot of what I read, have to go over it several times, and don't like doing that. But I understand what you write." I didn't explain to him that I know why that is. He knows me. We've had lots of conversations, so he knows how I talk. And since he knows me, he's interested in reading what I write. Reading comprehension often hinges on the interest you have in what you read . . . and he's learning that. And I'm pleased. Maybe in our previous conversations I should've mentioned that I'm a writer.
. . . And maybe some secrets shouldn't be kept. A cat is always happier once it's out of the bag.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
IT'S HERE! IT'S HERE!
Another Christmas is here, and I'm up early waiting to do chores so we can load up and head to a place where family with gather. Around here, it's sure not a typical Christmas. No tree, no lights, and no food preparations in store. But there are presents to be gathered up and loaded, and then it will seem more like Christmas. I don't like to travel on Christmas, have had bad experiences with it. I had to make an emergency trip one Christmas in bad weather, barely made it home late in the day, just in time to save a little of the day. My trip today will be short, just a few hours of easy driving.
Here at home, we have the animal family that must be taken care of first - the cats and dogs. They're our kids these days, those little critters that keep life interesting . . . and busy. We even have a Tiny Tim with us this Christmas, a starving kitten that showed up about a month ago. He's a birth defect kitten, partly lame and very small . . . but he's a delight.
I always loved that little kid in the famous book and traditional Christmas movie shown each year. Everyone did, and he even got through to the bad guy in the end. My point here is simple: Don't overlook the little things this Christmas. They're important.
Here at home, we have the animal family that must be taken care of first - the cats and dogs. They're our kids these days, those little critters that keep life interesting . . . and busy. We even have a Tiny Tim with us this Christmas, a starving kitten that showed up about a month ago. He's a birth defect kitten, partly lame and very small . . . but he's a delight.
I always loved that little kid in the famous book and traditional Christmas movie shown each year. Everyone did, and he even got through to the bad guy in the end. My point here is simple: Don't overlook the little things this Christmas. They're important.
Tuesday, December 24, 2013
THE UGLY AMERICAN LOOKS BETTER UP CLOSE
The image of America around the world has been somewhat tarnished for a long time, and that's due mostly to our meddling in foreign affairs and the way we do business abroad. Some of the complaints against us are legitimate, at least in my view. I don't like the way some businesses conduct themselves here at home, and I can only imagine what they must be like in other countries. I don't like some of our ill-conceived military actions in other countries, but I don't see them as altogether unwarranted. And I don't travel abroad, so I don't see what our tourists act like in other countries. But most American tourists don't leave this country at all, stay right here to spend their vacation money, and I get a chance to see that on occasions. I couldn't work in the tourist industry, but I'm glad some people can. It's big business, and Americans are a large part of it because they have money to spend . . . and everybody likes money.
I read the book The Ugly American years ago and remember thinking then that it was too critical of us. Yeah, we can be a pain in the ass at times, but American dollars do a lot of good in the world. And I think we look better up close, and for a number of reasons that don't have anything to do with the big bucks we've got to spend. All Americans aren't the same, that's for sure. Travel around in this country and you'll find folks who don't behave at all like they do in other places. I live in Texas, and we take pride in being the friendliest state in the union. Texans are for the most part friendly and easy to get along with, but all Texans aren't the same. Rural Texans aren't the same as cityslicker Texans, and each city seems to have its own character. I like the way Austin behaves, for instance, and I'm not fond of Dallas. Houston makes me irritable, and San Antonio is too busy. And you wonder: Do those people act the same when they leave town and go somewhere else?
I live in small town Texas, and quite a few local residents travel abroad from time to time. I'd be willing to bet that any stranger who meets them will not think of them as an ugly American. Texans think big, and they sometimes act big, but that's not always offensive. I'll give you an example, just one. My buddy up in Ft. Worth and his wife travel all over the world, take several big vacations a year. They've been everywhere, have spent millions of dollars on travel abroad. And you can't find anyone easier to get along with than these two people. I can just hear some Frenchman saying, "You know, I met these people from Texas the other day, and they weren't at all like I expected them to be. They were very nice, and they told us all about Texas." That's the kind of representation we need abroad.
As for me, I look good at home . . . writing books and being glad to be in a small town.
I read the book The Ugly American years ago and remember thinking then that it was too critical of us. Yeah, we can be a pain in the ass at times, but American dollars do a lot of good in the world. And I think we look better up close, and for a number of reasons that don't have anything to do with the big bucks we've got to spend. All Americans aren't the same, that's for sure. Travel around in this country and you'll find folks who don't behave at all like they do in other places. I live in Texas, and we take pride in being the friendliest state in the union. Texans are for the most part friendly and easy to get along with, but all Texans aren't the same. Rural Texans aren't the same as cityslicker Texans, and each city seems to have its own character. I like the way Austin behaves, for instance, and I'm not fond of Dallas. Houston makes me irritable, and San Antonio is too busy. And you wonder: Do those people act the same when they leave town and go somewhere else?
I live in small town Texas, and quite a few local residents travel abroad from time to time. I'd be willing to bet that any stranger who meets them will not think of them as an ugly American. Texans think big, and they sometimes act big, but that's not always offensive. I'll give you an example, just one. My buddy up in Ft. Worth and his wife travel all over the world, take several big vacations a year. They've been everywhere, have spent millions of dollars on travel abroad. And you can't find anyone easier to get along with than these two people. I can just hear some Frenchman saying, "You know, I met these people from Texas the other day, and they weren't at all like I expected them to be. They were very nice, and they told us all about Texas." That's the kind of representation we need abroad.
As for me, I look good at home . . . writing books and being glad to be in a small town.
Monday, December 23, 2013
LOOKING BACK ON A BAD YEAR THAT COULD'VE BEEN WORSE
I won't bore you with details of a year that wasn't one of my best. In fact, it has been the worst year in quite some time, and I sure won't be sorry to see it gone and done with. I usually don't sit up until midnight and wait on the new year to come in, but I will this year. I might even drink a no alcohol beer and sing silly songs along with a bunch of party hounds on television. I've had some wild New Year's Eve nights in my day, but that's all behind me now. Sitting up until midnight is wild for me these days.
My year could've been worse, but that's a lame excuse for not giving 2013 the blame it deserves. I'm smart enough to know that time has nothing to do with bad luck . . . but timing does. Was I just at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe I was at the right place at the wrong time, or the wrong place at the right time. Regardless, I was here in Brady, Texas, and I didn't have much choice about that. And my bad year didn't have anything to do with where I was; it had to do with what I was doing. I didn't have a lot of choices about that either. Bad luck was part of it, and maybe that's what threw my timing off.
I worked harder this past year than I have in some time, but it seemed like all that went to waste because nothing much worthwhile got done. I've been hospitalized twice, but that turned out to be a good thing. I've lost some friends, but at my age you have to expect that. Old folks die, you know. That's just part of life, so I can't blame that on the year. It just seems that 2013 brought around more bad news than I needed or was able to process. I'm ending the year tired and grumpy . . . and disappointed. I know there's still a rough road ahead of me in 2014. There's more unpleasantness to deal with.
Well, you know the old saying about lemons. When life gives you lemons, make lemon pie, or maybe a whiskey sour. 2013 has been a lemon year, a bumper crop of them, and I'm sick of lemons. I've got seven new books on the market now, and I put in a lot of work into getting them out there . . . and most of them are lemons. I expected to be thrilled at seeing my books in print, but I'm not. They're nice enough books, good stories, and worth the effort I put into them . . . but they fall far short of meeting my expectations as a writer. I'm sure I'll feel better about them as time passes. And if I don't, so be it. I'll write something new this coming year, and at least the books that come out won't have the date 2013 on them . . . and that's a helluva big improvement in itself.
Bye, bye, 2013 . . . and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!
My year could've been worse, but that's a lame excuse for not giving 2013 the blame it deserves. I'm smart enough to know that time has nothing to do with bad luck . . . but timing does. Was I just at the wrong place at the wrong time? Or maybe I was at the right place at the wrong time, or the wrong place at the right time. Regardless, I was here in Brady, Texas, and I didn't have much choice about that. And my bad year didn't have anything to do with where I was; it had to do with what I was doing. I didn't have a lot of choices about that either. Bad luck was part of it, and maybe that's what threw my timing off.
I worked harder this past year than I have in some time, but it seemed like all that went to waste because nothing much worthwhile got done. I've been hospitalized twice, but that turned out to be a good thing. I've lost some friends, but at my age you have to expect that. Old folks die, you know. That's just part of life, so I can't blame that on the year. It just seems that 2013 brought around more bad news than I needed or was able to process. I'm ending the year tired and grumpy . . . and disappointed. I know there's still a rough road ahead of me in 2014. There's more unpleasantness to deal with.
Well, you know the old saying about lemons. When life gives you lemons, make lemon pie, or maybe a whiskey sour. 2013 has been a lemon year, a bumper crop of them, and I'm sick of lemons. I've got seven new books on the market now, and I put in a lot of work into getting them out there . . . and most of them are lemons. I expected to be thrilled at seeing my books in print, but I'm not. They're nice enough books, good stories, and worth the effort I put into them . . . but they fall far short of meeting my expectations as a writer. I'm sure I'll feel better about them as time passes. And if I don't, so be it. I'll write something new this coming year, and at least the books that come out won't have the date 2013 on them . . . and that's a helluva big improvement in itself.
Bye, bye, 2013 . . . and don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out!
Sunday, December 22, 2013
HOW OLD ARE YOU?
Can you remember a time when you weren't old enough to do something, like buy tiobacco or beer at the store? Maybe you're still there and don't know it. There's always an age you must attain before you can do something, or at least it seems that way. I never thought I'd look forward to being old enough to draw social security, but I did. Now I'm a little confused about how old I must be to consider myself a senior citizen. When will I officially become elderly? I'm not sure, but maybe I'm already there. I shouldn't worry about any official cutoffs or qualifications or anything like that. It's the unofficial things that should worry me, and some of them do.
I saw a shopping cart in the parking lot at Walmart yesterday and started pushing it toward the entrance. Then I heard a voice behind me say, "Too late. Some old man took it." I turned and saw a woman in her sixties standing there. Sixty and she's calling me old? I took the cart back to her, and she thanked me. My wife grinned. She's in her sixties too, and she also thinks I'm old. I push shopping carts around even when I don't need one because they act as a crutch for me. My right leg gives me fits these days, so I limp badly. I've had a limp for a long time, since I was a kid actually. Broke a leg that left me slightly gimpy, but it got worse as I got older. I don't think much about it, but I see people staring at me, and I feel like telling them, "It's an old injury; it's not age."
You are as old as you feel, so goes the old saying, but that's wrong. You are as old as the calendar says you are. I was born in 1941, and nothing changes that. But how you live sure determines how you feel when you get old. My active and reckless lifestyle left me with some infirmities that got worse with age, but at the same time, it left me with a strong body and constitution for an old fart. All those years of working out, walking, hiking, working at hard jobs from time to time . . . that paid off. Doctors tell me I'm in decent shape, except I need to get a hip fixed. Some things wear out with age, and there's not much you can do about that except deal with it when it comes. And you deal with the things that slow you down some . . . and go on. Don't give in. Douglas McArthur said something to the effect that age wrinkles the body, but quitting wrinkles the soul. Good advice.
I saw a shopping cart in the parking lot at Walmart yesterday and started pushing it toward the entrance. Then I heard a voice behind me say, "Too late. Some old man took it." I turned and saw a woman in her sixties standing there. Sixty and she's calling me old? I took the cart back to her, and she thanked me. My wife grinned. She's in her sixties too, and she also thinks I'm old. I push shopping carts around even when I don't need one because they act as a crutch for me. My right leg gives me fits these days, so I limp badly. I've had a limp for a long time, since I was a kid actually. Broke a leg that left me slightly gimpy, but it got worse as I got older. I don't think much about it, but I see people staring at me, and I feel like telling them, "It's an old injury; it's not age."
You are as old as you feel, so goes the old saying, but that's wrong. You are as old as the calendar says you are. I was born in 1941, and nothing changes that. But how you live sure determines how you feel when you get old. My active and reckless lifestyle left me with some infirmities that got worse with age, but at the same time, it left me with a strong body and constitution for an old fart. All those years of working out, walking, hiking, working at hard jobs from time to time . . . that paid off. Doctors tell me I'm in decent shape, except I need to get a hip fixed. Some things wear out with age, and there's not much you can do about that except deal with it when it comes. And you deal with the things that slow you down some . . . and go on. Don't give in. Douglas McArthur said something to the effect that age wrinkles the body, but quitting wrinkles the soul. Good advice.
Friday, December 20, 2013
CAN YOU TOOT YOUR OWN HORN?
Self-publishing books is teaching me a lot about promotion, something I've always been lousy at doing. I'm learning that you can't promote a books you've written without promoting yourself. In other words, you've got to toot your own horn, and I don't like doing that. That comes from being witness to others doing it, and I know how that went over with me. It's better to get somebody else to promote you and your book, but if you don't have that at your disposal, that just leaves you. And so, when invited to be interviewed on a local radio show about interesting people, I took a shot at it. Did that this morning, and it went fairly well.
The two guys who do that show are good at asking the right questions, and that's important in an interview where you're promoting something. I did well enough this morning that I've been asked to come back in a week or two, after they've had a chance to read one of my books. They want to do a book review, have me answer questions about how I developed the book, etc. I can do that with ease. What I have trouble with is touting myself as an author. What is your background as a writer? What have you done other than write books? In other words, who are you and why do you think people would be interested in reading what you write? My responses are often too much along the line of, "Aw shucks! I'm just a guy with a big imagination who likes to tell stories." And that won't cut it.
Whether or not I like it, the author of a book should learn how to market himself. I don't write nonfiction, but even a fiction writer needs to convince readers that they know what they're doing. You need to be able to present yourself as someone who has the background, the history and education, for what he writes about. You need to be more than a dreamer with a great imagination, or someone who can write well, or someone with a specific agenda for what points they want to make. It takes some showmanship in presenting yourself as a qualified author. I'm confident that I have those qualities as an author, but I'm a lot less confident when it comes to tooting my own horn.
But . . . I'm working on it.
The two guys who do that show are good at asking the right questions, and that's important in an interview where you're promoting something. I did well enough this morning that I've been asked to come back in a week or two, after they've had a chance to read one of my books. They want to do a book review, have me answer questions about how I developed the book, etc. I can do that with ease. What I have trouble with is touting myself as an author. What is your background as a writer? What have you done other than write books? In other words, who are you and why do you think people would be interested in reading what you write? My responses are often too much along the line of, "Aw shucks! I'm just a guy with a big imagination who likes to tell stories." And that won't cut it.
Whether or not I like it, the author of a book should learn how to market himself. I don't write nonfiction, but even a fiction writer needs to convince readers that they know what they're doing. You need to be able to present yourself as someone who has the background, the history and education, for what he writes about. You need to be more than a dreamer with a great imagination, or someone who can write well, or someone with a specific agenda for what points they want to make. It takes some showmanship in presenting yourself as a qualified author. I'm confident that I have those qualities as an author, but I'm a lot less confident when it comes to tooting my own horn.
But . . . I'm working on it.
Thursday, December 19, 2013
COME ON, PHIL. YOU CAN'T SAY THAT!
Phil Robertson, a star on the redneck television show Duck Dynasty, shot his mouth off in an interview about gays (likened them to terrorists and drunks), and got dumped from his own show for it. The network that carries the reality series said he was suspended indefinitely. Phil also said that gays could never make it to Heaven. Here's what bugs me about it: Just what the hell did you expect from him? He is what he is, and that's been making the network tons of money . . . and now he's suddenly a liability. Ask almost any man from Louisiana what he thinks of gays, and you'll get the same line of crap from him. I don't like what Phil said, don't agree with him, but I'm thinking the network might've just screwed up big time in taking him off the show.
Duck Dynasty isn't worth watching to start with. No redneck show is worth a tinker's dam, unless you're a redneck, and there's lots of those folks running around out there. Do you think all those folks who tune in to Duck Dynasty are going to be mad at Phil for what he said? I figure his standing with them just jumped up a bunch. Stupid is as stupid does, so goes the old saying, and at first glance it would appear that Phil Robertson ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Well, maybe, but he just became a true hero to lots of bible toting, borderline stupid rednecks. Could it be that ole Phil knew that before he shot his mouth off?
So, what comes next? Will Duck Dynasty go down the tubes without Phil? Will he disappoint all his fans by mealy/mouthing around and making some lame apology about what he said? Damn, I hope not. I don't agree with him, but he's got a right to shoot his mouth off. My guess is the world's not full of gays who watch the show to start with, so I'm having trouble seeing any real damage to the fan base there. And for A&E to suddenly get indignant about it (like they didn't know how Phil felt about gays), is outright lame. If there's a real act of stupidity here, it's on their part. So, hang in there Phil! It's gonna be a rough ride 'cause the world is full of two-faced promoters. Hire yourself a ghost writer and get a book out there. I've even got a title for you. How about, I'm Not Light in the Loafers 'Cause I Don't Wear 'Em.
Duck Dynasty isn't worth watching to start with. No redneck show is worth a tinker's dam, unless you're a redneck, and there's lots of those folks running around out there. Do you think all those folks who tune in to Duck Dynasty are going to be mad at Phil for what he said? I figure his standing with them just jumped up a bunch. Stupid is as stupid does, so goes the old saying, and at first glance it would appear that Phil Robertson ain't the sharpest knife in the drawer. Well, maybe, but he just became a true hero to lots of bible toting, borderline stupid rednecks. Could it be that ole Phil knew that before he shot his mouth off?
So, what comes next? Will Duck Dynasty go down the tubes without Phil? Will he disappoint all his fans by mealy/mouthing around and making some lame apology about what he said? Damn, I hope not. I don't agree with him, but he's got a right to shoot his mouth off. My guess is the world's not full of gays who watch the show to start with, so I'm having trouble seeing any real damage to the fan base there. And for A&E to suddenly get indignant about it (like they didn't know how Phil felt about gays), is outright lame. If there's a real act of stupidity here, it's on their part. So, hang in there Phil! It's gonna be a rough ride 'cause the world is full of two-faced promoters. Hire yourself a ghost writer and get a book out there. I've even got a title for you. How about, I'm Not Light in the Loafers 'Cause I Don't Wear 'Em.
Tuesday, December 17, 2013
HAVE IT YOUR WAY . . . AND PAY, AND PAY, AND PAY
This is a blog for all the morons out there who are fighting any change in our current health care system in America. Sometimes you get exactly what you deserve. I can remember a time when people fought seat belt laws, or laws that required motorcycle helmets, or any number of moves the government made to make us all safer. And thousands upon thousands of people have been killed because their seat belts weren't employed. God only knows how many people have been killed for not wearing headgear for cycles. If you lose your life for stupid reasons, you at the very least contributed to your own demise. No one deserves to die, not even for being stupid, but it happens.
The United States' health care system ranks low among nations who have the money to afford good care, and most of those nations that outrank us have socialized medicine. I'm not talking about some diddly/squat, watered down measure like the Obamacare legislation. I'm talking real, one payer system, socialized medicine. France, for instance, makes us look bad in when it comes to health care. We're even well behind countries much smaller than we are. The reason for our low standing is simple - our system doesn't cover enough people. Most Americans are on their own when it comes to health care, and if they're not covered by some company group policy, a recent survey showed that the average American family paying its own way shucked out about $1,400 a month for health insurance. Some people are forced to stay in jobs they don't like because group coverage is the only way they can go, and some 40 percent of Americans have no health insurance at all.
OK, here are the big questions: Do you like that? Do you want to continue a system that allows insurance companies to treat you about any way they want to? Can you afford it? Are you totally nuts? And I can feel this way about you because I'm covered. Yeah, I'm an old fart with medicare and supplementary insurance, and if you think paying the big premiums and trusting private insurance is better, then I could care less what happens to you. I paid into my federal medicare system for a lot of years, so what I get isn't exactly a freebie. I was forced to do it, wasn't given a choice about that big deduction every month from my paycheck . . . and that worked to my benefit in the long run. But what about all the folks who aren't old enough to take advantage of that? Why are you fighting change? Obamacare is a tiny step in the right direction, but you have to start somewhere. My advice to you is simple. WISE UP!!
The United States' health care system ranks low among nations who have the money to afford good care, and most of those nations that outrank us have socialized medicine. I'm not talking about some diddly/squat, watered down measure like the Obamacare legislation. I'm talking real, one payer system, socialized medicine. France, for instance, makes us look bad in when it comes to health care. We're even well behind countries much smaller than we are. The reason for our low standing is simple - our system doesn't cover enough people. Most Americans are on their own when it comes to health care, and if they're not covered by some company group policy, a recent survey showed that the average American family paying its own way shucked out about $1,400 a month for health insurance. Some people are forced to stay in jobs they don't like because group coverage is the only way they can go, and some 40 percent of Americans have no health insurance at all.
OK, here are the big questions: Do you like that? Do you want to continue a system that allows insurance companies to treat you about any way they want to? Can you afford it? Are you totally nuts? And I can feel this way about you because I'm covered. Yeah, I'm an old fart with medicare and supplementary insurance, and if you think paying the big premiums and trusting private insurance is better, then I could care less what happens to you. I paid into my federal medicare system for a lot of years, so what I get isn't exactly a freebie. I was forced to do it, wasn't given a choice about that big deduction every month from my paycheck . . . and that worked to my benefit in the long run. But what about all the folks who aren't old enough to take advantage of that? Why are you fighting change? Obamacare is a tiny step in the right direction, but you have to start somewhere. My advice to you is simple. WISE UP!!
Sunday, December 15, 2013
WHAT IS DISSOCIATIVE FUGUE?
My son told me about a real life event that unfolded in the city where he lives, Austin, Texas - about a man who disappeared was wasn't found for months. He was a man of some means, came from a good family and had a job and family and all that. But he simply walked away from it, and that touched off a search that went on for months. Police couldn't find him (surprise, surprise), but a private detective finally did. The guy was living in an abandoned motel in a bad section of town, and he'd taken on the persona of a street person - new name, an invented history, and no memory at all of who he'd been before the disappearance.
"So where have you been?" My son asked the guy when he finally reappeared. "They call it dissociative fugue. I forgot who I was, just walked away and became somebody else," he said. Then he went on to tell about how the private detectives found him, about his therapy to recover his memory of his former life, his real life. This guy was fortunate to have had relatives who could afford to track him down.
Hearing that story set off all sorts in bells in my head. As a writer, I'm always looking for a good story, so I started doing research about dissociative fugue. It's a very real thing, and although rare, there are some interesting stories out there about people who've gone through it. Researchers don't know a lot about it, but they've put together some interesting facts. A victim of dissociative fugue often creates an elaborate history of the new character they assume. They don't remember a thing about their former lives, and once found and rehabilitated, they can't remember their fugue state. Stress is the most common cause for this disorder. A person can get so stressed, so unhappy with their existence, that they simply walk away from it. In other words, put a person under enough pressure, make them disenchanted enough, and dissociative fugue can take place.
I'd been going through a tough period when I heard this story. A major heart attack had put me in a hospital's ICU ward for a week. My hospital and doctor bills were enormous, and my high dollar health care insurance turned out to be bogus. They paid a fraction of the costs, then announced they'd pay no more. I hired a lawyer to sue them (that didn't work out), and then I hired another lawyer to get me out of the mess. Bill collectors were unrelenting, vicious, and I nearly folded under the pressure. I hated my life, got depressed . . . and then I got pissed off and fought back. And I won. But I never stopped thinking about what could've happened to me, and so I wrote about it. Writing that book was good therapy for me. It made me study the rotten health care system we have in this country, and it made me do a lot of research about how to deal with stressful situations.
The book ended up being called The Blue House on Sterling, and I called upon my down to earth, common sense voice Cletus Duhon to write it. I wanted to take all the highly technical and difficult to understand stuff and turn it over to someone who could break it down to where the average person could understand it. I wanted to point out the flaws in our health care system, and I wanted to show how to deal with them . . . and I think I did that. Is it easy reading? Not exactly, but it is factual and not difficult to understand. Is it interesting, engaging? Yes, I think it is because the book introduces some unusual characters. It is a story of discovery. It's about how a man was rescued from a dissociative fugue state and how he recovered.
I started the book in 2005 and am now in the final stages of proof reading it. Once that's done, it will be published. Although I never expect immediate success with a book, The Blue House on Sterling is perhaps my best work as an author and it will do well . . . when people start to discover it. If you like to read books that are different, filled with adventure in route to discovery, you'll like this one.
"So where have you been?" My son asked the guy when he finally reappeared. "They call it dissociative fugue. I forgot who I was, just walked away and became somebody else," he said. Then he went on to tell about how the private detectives found him, about his therapy to recover his memory of his former life, his real life. This guy was fortunate to have had relatives who could afford to track him down.
Hearing that story set off all sorts in bells in my head. As a writer, I'm always looking for a good story, so I started doing research about dissociative fugue. It's a very real thing, and although rare, there are some interesting stories out there about people who've gone through it. Researchers don't know a lot about it, but they've put together some interesting facts. A victim of dissociative fugue often creates an elaborate history of the new character they assume. They don't remember a thing about their former lives, and once found and rehabilitated, they can't remember their fugue state. Stress is the most common cause for this disorder. A person can get so stressed, so unhappy with their existence, that they simply walk away from it. In other words, put a person under enough pressure, make them disenchanted enough, and dissociative fugue can take place.
I'd been going through a tough period when I heard this story. A major heart attack had put me in a hospital's ICU ward for a week. My hospital and doctor bills were enormous, and my high dollar health care insurance turned out to be bogus. They paid a fraction of the costs, then announced they'd pay no more. I hired a lawyer to sue them (that didn't work out), and then I hired another lawyer to get me out of the mess. Bill collectors were unrelenting, vicious, and I nearly folded under the pressure. I hated my life, got depressed . . . and then I got pissed off and fought back. And I won. But I never stopped thinking about what could've happened to me, and so I wrote about it. Writing that book was good therapy for me. It made me study the rotten health care system we have in this country, and it made me do a lot of research about how to deal with stressful situations.
The book ended up being called The Blue House on Sterling, and I called upon my down to earth, common sense voice Cletus Duhon to write it. I wanted to take all the highly technical and difficult to understand stuff and turn it over to someone who could break it down to where the average person could understand it. I wanted to point out the flaws in our health care system, and I wanted to show how to deal with them . . . and I think I did that. Is it easy reading? Not exactly, but it is factual and not difficult to understand. Is it interesting, engaging? Yes, I think it is because the book introduces some unusual characters. It is a story of discovery. It's about how a man was rescued from a dissociative fugue state and how he recovered.
I started the book in 2005 and am now in the final stages of proof reading it. Once that's done, it will be published. Although I never expect immediate success with a book, The Blue House on Sterling is perhaps my best work as an author and it will do well . . . when people start to discover it. If you like to read books that are different, filled with adventure in route to discovery, you'll like this one.
Saturday, December 14, 2013
THE BLOG INTERNATIONAL AUDIENCE
I don't remember what it was called, but I used to belong to a pen pal site that allowed me to exchange letters with people from other countries. That amused me for a while, even taught me a little about foreign languages. The site had a language translator so I could send emails they could at least break down and understand . . . and the pen pal did the same with me. I visited with a guy in Portugal, one from Chile, and another from Argentina . . . but that was some time ago. Moli came along, and I got a site there and started blogging. That turned up big for me because I got lots of reads, and I was amazed to see that most of them came from other countries. Too bad, but Moli went down the tubes, and that put an end to my blogging for a while.
So now I have this blog site on Blogger, and it tells me where views come from. Yesterday I posted a couple of blogs and the site got 85 views, and most of them were from Malaysa. A few came from Germany. D. Paz Dalton pops up a lot if you google the name, so I understand how foreigners can find me. No one comments on the blog views I get from international viewers, and that tells me they don't actually read them. They view the site, but my stats gizmo shows few actual reads. Makes me wonder if maybe I'm just wasting my time. I usually get bored with blogging, take long layoffs from time to time. Once I get back to working on books, this will slow down a lot. And that's why I do it. If I don't write, I get stale, and a stale writer produces stale books . . . or blogs, sort of like this one.
So now I have this blog site on Blogger, and it tells me where views come from. Yesterday I posted a couple of blogs and the site got 85 views, and most of them were from Malaysa. A few came from Germany. D. Paz Dalton pops up a lot if you google the name, so I understand how foreigners can find me. No one comments on the blog views I get from international viewers, and that tells me they don't actually read them. They view the site, but my stats gizmo shows few actual reads. Makes me wonder if maybe I'm just wasting my time. I usually get bored with blogging, take long layoffs from time to time. Once I get back to working on books, this will slow down a lot. And that's why I do it. If I don't write, I get stale, and a stale writer produces stale books . . . or blogs, sort of like this one.
Friday, December 13, 2013
AW, GO FRACK YOURSELF!
Oil companies are greedy when it comes to water, and one reason for that is the fracking process. Lots of talk goes around these days about it, but government is doing nothing to stop it . . . and we'll all end up paying for that in the future. Like with anything else in a society like ours, we won't do anything about it until we're in real trouble. Until we're nearly bled dry, we won't do anything to stop the bleeding. I don't know what we'll do when the time comes, but I can promise you the time is coming when we're going to be dealing with some major water shortages. We already out of water in some parts of the country, but that will spread to other parts, and that time is not far away.
Picture your town with no car wash places, dead lawns in residential areas (even golf courses and football fields), dry rivers and lakes, and bottled water that costs more than beer. Maybe you already live in a town like that. We have several of them here in Texas, and the problem can't be totally blamed on oil companies and their fracking practices. We're all to blame because we're water wasteful, and water is like gold when it comes to your survival. You can't live without it. And when the time comes that you don't have enough of it, when you're living under strict water rationing plans mandated by government entities, make sure you get angry at the right source. Be mad at yourself first, and then blame government for allowing it to happen.
Why blame government? It's simple - most of us aren't responsible enough to fix problems like that. We're the users of the water, but mankind has never been good at regulating things related to survival. History is rife with accounts of the demise of societies that failed to see problems coming. They used up their resources, then died off. And here we are doing the same thing. Our government seems to be no smarter than past governments, at least not here in America. I think we're probably better at taking care of our environment than most countries, but what others do changes things for us. South of us in South American the forests are fast disappearing, and that changes rain patters in this country . . . and that changes our water situation. Chop down trees in Honduras or Brazil, chop down water supply in America. We can deal with all that, if we prepare for it. But we're not.
Picture your town with no car wash places, dead lawns in residential areas (even golf courses and football fields), dry rivers and lakes, and bottled water that costs more than beer. Maybe you already live in a town like that. We have several of them here in Texas, and the problem can't be totally blamed on oil companies and their fracking practices. We're all to blame because we're water wasteful, and water is like gold when it comes to your survival. You can't live without it. And when the time comes that you don't have enough of it, when you're living under strict water rationing plans mandated by government entities, make sure you get angry at the right source. Be mad at yourself first, and then blame government for allowing it to happen.
Why blame government? It's simple - most of us aren't responsible enough to fix problems like that. We're the users of the water, but mankind has never been good at regulating things related to survival. History is rife with accounts of the demise of societies that failed to see problems coming. They used up their resources, then died off. And here we are doing the same thing. Our government seems to be no smarter than past governments, at least not here in America. I think we're probably better at taking care of our environment than most countries, but what others do changes things for us. South of us in South American the forests are fast disappearing, and that changes rain patters in this country . . . and that changes our water situation. Chop down trees in Honduras or Brazil, chop down water supply in America. We can deal with all that, if we prepare for it. But we're not.
FRIDAY 13TH IS JUST ANOTHER DAY
I'm a little superstitious about numbers. Seven is lucky, thirteen is unlucky, and nine is not to be trusted. I won't carry 13 dollars in my wallet, don't allow the gas pump to stop on 13 either. And here it is, Friday 13th, and it's going to last until midnight tonight. I woke up with a toothache. The household animals are on a tear. The wife got up grumpy (that's really nothing new), and I've got some unpleasant chores facing me today. It's clean-up day, time to get the house looking and smelling better. Got chores to do at the shop. And its Friday the 13th. Did I say that already?
My wife will buy lottery tickets today because she always does that on Friday 13th. That's the only day of the year she buys them. I'll do normal things because I know that this day is really no different from any other day. Numbers mean nothing, other than that the fall in place where they belong. You can count on that. Two comes after one, three after two, four after three, and so forth. And you can't skip a number and make things come out right. I've been in buildings that had no 13th floor. There was a 12th floor, and then you went to the 14th floor, and if you do that, all you've done is rename thirteen. It's still the 13th floor, and that makes what you've named fourteen unlucky. Right?
Quit screwing around with 13. It is what it is, and you can't change that. Would I skip today if allowed to do so? No. I don't want to miss any day, not at my age. And deep down I know that today is no different from the others, except it is Friday, and that's always been my favorite day of the week. I refuse to let the number 13 ruin that for me. But I won't be walking under any ladders today.
My wife will buy lottery tickets today because she always does that on Friday 13th. That's the only day of the year she buys them. I'll do normal things because I know that this day is really no different from any other day. Numbers mean nothing, other than that the fall in place where they belong. You can count on that. Two comes after one, three after two, four after three, and so forth. And you can't skip a number and make things come out right. I've been in buildings that had no 13th floor. There was a 12th floor, and then you went to the 14th floor, and if you do that, all you've done is rename thirteen. It's still the 13th floor, and that makes what you've named fourteen unlucky. Right?
Quit screwing around with 13. It is what it is, and you can't change that. Would I skip today if allowed to do so? No. I don't want to miss any day, not at my age. And deep down I know that today is no different from the others, except it is Friday, and that's always been my favorite day of the week. I refuse to let the number 13 ruin that for me. But I won't be walking under any ladders today.
Thursday, December 12, 2013
ARE YOU NUTS, OR WHUT?
Sam Kenison used to do this routine about starving people in Africa. He was a screamer, if you remember him, and his solution to the problem of starvation was (and he would scream this out) - MOVE WHERE THE FOOD IS? You can't expect to have food if you live where it won't grow, like in the middle of the desert. I feel like screaming the same thing at people who pay upwards of a million bucks for a diddly/squat litte house in some overpriced market like L.A., or Boston. Are house buyers there nuts, or whut?
I watch the shows on television about house shoppers, and I saw one not long ago about a young couple trying to buy a house in a big city back east. Everything they looked at was old, needing lots of updating and repairs, and was at least a half million bucks. I live in a house in central Texas that's not old, isn't outdated, and is big, and for a third of what a piddling little house was going to cost these folks. And I'm wondering why they'd do that. I know their reasoning behind buying in a grossly overpriced market, but I think it's absolutely stupid. What it comes down it is just how bad you want to live in a particular area. If Boston is the only place I'll be satisfied, then it's bite the bullet time when it comes to housing. If I've just got to be in L.A., same deal. I just don't get that, but I'm not an urbanite, don't have a cityslicker's outlook on life, and I hate almost everything that comes from living around a lot of people.
Yeah, I know, that makes me different, but it also makes me lucky. I watch these shoppers who expect to pay upwards of a million bucks for a house like I live in wondering what they do for a living to be able to afford such an expense. A million bucks gets me a mansion almost anywhere in Texas. For a million bucks, I can live in Austin - in a house on a lovely lake, with anything anyone could want in a house. But I live in a small town two hours from there . . . in a big house that would cost at least $400,000 even in Austin. If I could pick my house up and move it to L.A. (in the right neighborhoos), we're talking well over a million bucks for it.
First off, you could in no way entice me to move to L.A., or to Boston, or to any other big city. I would live in Austin, but I can't afford the lifestyle there that I can afford here in the small town. If I want something the city has to offer, I get in a vehicle and drive to the city . . . and in a nice SUV I wouldn't be able to afford if I was shucking out big payments for a house. Second, even if I could afford the high dollar house in the city, I wouldn't buy it. "But my job is in the city. I don't have a choice about where I live," I'm told. "Yeah? But why did you take a job there? Why not take a job in a town where housing is affordable? Even if you make half as much in salary, you're better off financially to go smaller town and smaller market."
So, I'm going to shout it at you. If you want a nice house, MOVE WHERE THE HOUSES ARE AFFORDABLE! Cities are to housing what the desert is to food. But it's your life and your money, and you can live anywhere you want to. You can live there in that small, overpriced house . . . and I'll be here in central Texas living in my big, inexpensive house. If you're happy, I've got no problem with that. Besides, if all you cityslickers loved country living, or small town living, you'd come out here and screw up everything for us country bumpkins. I've got a feeling that wherever you go, the high prices are going to be close behind.
I watch the shows on television about house shoppers, and I saw one not long ago about a young couple trying to buy a house in a big city back east. Everything they looked at was old, needing lots of updating and repairs, and was at least a half million bucks. I live in a house in central Texas that's not old, isn't outdated, and is big, and for a third of what a piddling little house was going to cost these folks. And I'm wondering why they'd do that. I know their reasoning behind buying in a grossly overpriced market, but I think it's absolutely stupid. What it comes down it is just how bad you want to live in a particular area. If Boston is the only place I'll be satisfied, then it's bite the bullet time when it comes to housing. If I've just got to be in L.A., same deal. I just don't get that, but I'm not an urbanite, don't have a cityslicker's outlook on life, and I hate almost everything that comes from living around a lot of people.
Yeah, I know, that makes me different, but it also makes me lucky. I watch these shoppers who expect to pay upwards of a million bucks for a house like I live in wondering what they do for a living to be able to afford such an expense. A million bucks gets me a mansion almost anywhere in Texas. For a million bucks, I can live in Austin - in a house on a lovely lake, with anything anyone could want in a house. But I live in a small town two hours from there . . . in a big house that would cost at least $400,000 even in Austin. If I could pick my house up and move it to L.A. (in the right neighborhoos), we're talking well over a million bucks for it.
First off, you could in no way entice me to move to L.A., or to Boston, or to any other big city. I would live in Austin, but I can't afford the lifestyle there that I can afford here in the small town. If I want something the city has to offer, I get in a vehicle and drive to the city . . . and in a nice SUV I wouldn't be able to afford if I was shucking out big payments for a house. Second, even if I could afford the high dollar house in the city, I wouldn't buy it. "But my job is in the city. I don't have a choice about where I live," I'm told. "Yeah? But why did you take a job there? Why not take a job in a town where housing is affordable? Even if you make half as much in salary, you're better off financially to go smaller town and smaller market."
So, I'm going to shout it at you. If you want a nice house, MOVE WHERE THE HOUSES ARE AFFORDABLE! Cities are to housing what the desert is to food. But it's your life and your money, and you can live anywhere you want to. You can live there in that small, overpriced house . . . and I'll be here in central Texas living in my big, inexpensive house. If you're happy, I've got no problem with that. Besides, if all you cityslickers loved country living, or small town living, you'd come out here and screw up everything for us country bumpkins. I've got a feeling that wherever you go, the high prices are going to be close behind.
Wednesday, December 11, 2013
DON'T GET LOST IN THE MOMENT
Feeling sorry for a football coach who gets the boot because he didn't win enough is foolish for a number of reasons. He's paid far too much money to start with, and firing is as much a part of the game as is hiring. What a coach does between those two events is what should be remembered, but unfortunately most people just remember how it ends. Not all coaches end up being fired. They have long and successful careers and retire as sports heroes, but most coaches aren't that lucky. Mack Brown has had a 16 year career at Texas and is being pushed out because his teams have lost 20 games over the past 4 years. If you do that at Texas, you can forget about all those years he won ten or more games. This season his team is 8-4, not good enough at Texas.
Texas beat Oklahoma this year 38-20, a sound drubbing. Bob Stoops at OU is headed off to a bowl match against Alabama, where Nick Saban coaches. Rumor has it that Saban might bail out at Alabama and go to Texas. Texas football fanatics are sure working that deal at the moment, but what if Saban's team loses to Stoop's OU team? What then? Is that going to kick off a frenzy of discussion about Stoops moving to Texas? When you hot, you're hot, and when you're not, you're not. It seems that football fanatics live in the moment, and they've got short memories when it comes to winning. If Stoop's fortunes at OU tour sour for a few years, his supporters there will turn on him like a pack of starving wolves. You can count on it.
What we too often remember about almost anything is how it ends, and that's sad. If you look at the overall picture, you see something else quite different for the ending. We get lost in the moment - the wrong moment. I don't care about football, not really, and I'm not concerned about what happens to coaches and teams and schools that support them. If I had my way, football would get put on the back burner of college affairs. Any idiot can be a football fan; not everyone can be a college graduate. I spent over 30 years of my life being a college professor, and I was a college coach for a while. That's over now, and fortunately I don't think about how it ended. All things end, don't get bogged down in it. And when you stop to think hard about it, almost all endings are good endings - maybe not happy, but good. All's well that ends.
Death is the only ending I know of that's final, or at least we think of it as final. As far as most of us know for sure, death is definite . . . but we can't know that for sure. All other things that end can actually be viewed as a beginning. OK, so my career as a coach is over, so what's next? Perhaps another career awaits, or even if it's just retirement, that's another phase of life to go through. I've been a much more content man since I retired from my chosen profession back in 2000. It wasn't a happy ending, just an ending, but I look back on that retirement as the best thing to happen to me in a long time. I struggled for a while finding something else to do with my life, but I adjusted. I live in the moment, but I don't get lost in it.
Texas beat Oklahoma this year 38-20, a sound drubbing. Bob Stoops at OU is headed off to a bowl match against Alabama, where Nick Saban coaches. Rumor has it that Saban might bail out at Alabama and go to Texas. Texas football fanatics are sure working that deal at the moment, but what if Saban's team loses to Stoop's OU team? What then? Is that going to kick off a frenzy of discussion about Stoops moving to Texas? When you hot, you're hot, and when you're not, you're not. It seems that football fanatics live in the moment, and they've got short memories when it comes to winning. If Stoop's fortunes at OU tour sour for a few years, his supporters there will turn on him like a pack of starving wolves. You can count on it.
What we too often remember about almost anything is how it ends, and that's sad. If you look at the overall picture, you see something else quite different for the ending. We get lost in the moment - the wrong moment. I don't care about football, not really, and I'm not concerned about what happens to coaches and teams and schools that support them. If I had my way, football would get put on the back burner of college affairs. Any idiot can be a football fan; not everyone can be a college graduate. I spent over 30 years of my life being a college professor, and I was a college coach for a while. That's over now, and fortunately I don't think about how it ended. All things end, don't get bogged down in it. And when you stop to think hard about it, almost all endings are good endings - maybe not happy, but good. All's well that ends.
Death is the only ending I know of that's final, or at least we think of it as final. As far as most of us know for sure, death is definite . . . but we can't know that for sure. All other things that end can actually be viewed as a beginning. OK, so my career as a coach is over, so what's next? Perhaps another career awaits, or even if it's just retirement, that's another phase of life to go through. I've been a much more content man since I retired from my chosen profession back in 2000. It wasn't a happy ending, just an ending, but I look back on that retirement as the best thing to happen to me in a long time. I struggled for a while finding something else to do with my life, but I adjusted. I live in the moment, but I don't get lost in it.
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
WHAT NEXT?
2014 is just around the corner, and starting a new year always leaves me wondering what's next. I'm not much of a planner, at least not for the long haul. Maybe short term planning is a product of old age, but that's foolish because you should never let time slip up on you. I didn't plan on being old. My lifestyle was such that a guy like me shouldn't plan on being eighty, and I'm still not planning on being here that long. But you never know. That's not really my choice to make, so about the best I can do is wonder what I'll be doing should I last a few more years.
One nice thing about being old is that you're under no obligation to do anything spectacular. With few demands and expectations on me, life is pretty much a go with the flow thing. I don't have an action plan, in other words. When it gets right down to it, life is more about how we react to what goes on around us. I can't control what other people do, what happens in the world or even in my community, so all that's left to me is to react to what happens. I didn't plan on having emergency surgery back in early June, but I did . . . and then a month later, I went back to the hospital with a bleeding problem. I reacted by doing what they told me to do. My life has changed some, and I'm a little wiser.
I enjoy work, staying busy doing something, and that's sometimes a problem when you're the boss. I work around the house some, and I spend time in my shop across town, and I write books. 2013 was a good year in that regard. Seven of my books are now in print, and there's more to come. I'll go into 2014 expecting to double that number before the year is out. I'll finish old projects and start new ones. I'll do a better job of taking care of myself. And most of all, I'll try to enjoy life.
One nice thing about being old is that you're under no obligation to do anything spectacular. With few demands and expectations on me, life is pretty much a go with the flow thing. I don't have an action plan, in other words. When it gets right down to it, life is more about how we react to what goes on around us. I can't control what other people do, what happens in the world or even in my community, so all that's left to me is to react to what happens. I didn't plan on having emergency surgery back in early June, but I did . . . and then a month later, I went back to the hospital with a bleeding problem. I reacted by doing what they told me to do. My life has changed some, and I'm a little wiser.
I enjoy work, staying busy doing something, and that's sometimes a problem when you're the boss. I work around the house some, and I spend time in my shop across town, and I write books. 2013 was a good year in that regard. Seven of my books are now in print, and there's more to come. I'll go into 2014 expecting to double that number before the year is out. I'll finish old projects and start new ones. I'll do a better job of taking care of myself. And most of all, I'll try to enjoy life.
Monday, December 9, 2013
MY CRIMINAL RECORD IS RESEARCHABLE. REALLY?
According to one internet site, my criminal record is researchable. That's D. Paz Dalton's criminal record, of course, and I find that amusing because I don't exist in real life. I'm a voice, a pseudonmyn, a pen name used by Philip Matin Cawlfield to write stories about the borderlands between Texas and Mexico. I'm about 6 years old. He first used me to blog on Moli, and that was back about 2007 or thereabouts. D. Paz Dalton is the pen name used to write Redrocks Chronicles: Stories from the Borderlands. But I have a criminal record that's researchable?
Philip Martin Cawlfield was my father's given name, but he changed his name later in life to Basil Philip Martin. You can find him on the internet too under Dr. B. Philip Martin, which is a burial notice when he passed away. And you can find his father, my grandfather, also - John Owen Cawlfield . . . and he died in 1920. I didn't know the man, but I do know the story about his death. My father was 13 years old when his dad died of the same disease he contacted while nursing his son back to health. My dad survived, the father passed away. My father didn't say much about it, probably because he carried some guilt about it. He always spoke highly of his father, but he had difficulties with his mother. I was about 4 years old when she died, but I remember being frightened because my father wept. I'd never seen him cry.
I grew up as Philip Haight Martin. My middle name came from a distinguished professor my father much admired, Dr. E.F. Haight. Most people know me as just Phil Martin, not a good name for an author. I use my father's name for that, Philip Martin Cawlfield. He would approve. I also write under the pen name Cletus Duhon, and he too has a researchable criminal record. I suppose the criminal records of D. Paz and Cletus belong to me, so here's the skinny on that. Except for an arrest for DWI back when I was 21 years old, I've never been in jail. I've never been accused or charged with a crime, other than a few speeding tickets. In short, I'm clean.
And that in itself is somewhat of a miracle.
Philip Martin Cawlfield was my father's given name, but he changed his name later in life to Basil Philip Martin. You can find him on the internet too under Dr. B. Philip Martin, which is a burial notice when he passed away. And you can find his father, my grandfather, also - John Owen Cawlfield . . . and he died in 1920. I didn't know the man, but I do know the story about his death. My father was 13 years old when his dad died of the same disease he contacted while nursing his son back to health. My dad survived, the father passed away. My father didn't say much about it, probably because he carried some guilt about it. He always spoke highly of his father, but he had difficulties with his mother. I was about 4 years old when she died, but I remember being frightened because my father wept. I'd never seen him cry.
I grew up as Philip Haight Martin. My middle name came from a distinguished professor my father much admired, Dr. E.F. Haight. Most people know me as just Phil Martin, not a good name for an author. I use my father's name for that, Philip Martin Cawlfield. He would approve. I also write under the pen name Cletus Duhon, and he too has a researchable criminal record. I suppose the criminal records of D. Paz and Cletus belong to me, so here's the skinny on that. Except for an arrest for DWI back when I was 21 years old, I've never been in jail. I've never been accused or charged with a crime, other than a few speeding tickets. In short, I'm clean.
And that in itself is somewhat of a miracle.
BOWLS ARE FOR THE BIRDS
I just read through the list of bowls, some three dozen of them, with some disgust and dismay. I realize sponsorship is important, but the names of bowls turn me off. Whatever happened to bowls named after flowers and fruits? Now they're named after the sponsor, the money men, the backers. In my opinion, bowls are for the birds. I suggest we change the name of all bowls to bird names. The one that decides the national champion should be the Eagle Bowl, for instance. And we could have names for lesser bowls like the Sparrow Bowl, or Hummingbird Bowl.
We could have a Buzzard Bowl for teams who usually stink up the place, or maybe a Duck Bowl for redneck viewers. What about a Parrot Bowl, or a Stork Bowl? Maybe a Bluejay Bowl, or Red Bird Bowl? Yeah, I know, it sounds stupid, but it beats hell out of calling a bowl something like the Viagra Bowl, or the Kotex Bowl. On second thought, maybe a bowl called the Viagra Bowl would be a good idea, pit two football teams against each another who have a hard time getting up for games.
I'm going to be old fashioned and just watch the bowl games with traditional names, like the Rose Bowl and the Cotton Bowl and the Orange Bowl. And I don't even care what teams are playing in them.
We could have a Buzzard Bowl for teams who usually stink up the place, or maybe a Duck Bowl for redneck viewers. What about a Parrot Bowl, or a Stork Bowl? Maybe a Bluejay Bowl, or Red Bird Bowl? Yeah, I know, it sounds stupid, but it beats hell out of calling a bowl something like the Viagra Bowl, or the Kotex Bowl. On second thought, maybe a bowl called the Viagra Bowl would be a good idea, pit two football teams against each another who have a hard time getting up for games.
I'm going to be old fashioned and just watch the bowl games with traditional names, like the Rose Bowl and the Cotton Bowl and the Orange Bowl. And I don't even care what teams are playing in them.
Sunday, December 8, 2013
NO FAN OF KINDLE
My wife is a Kindle lover, keeps one in her lap all the time. Even reads and listens to the television, which makes no sense to me. I have a Kindle but have never used it much, and I know what spoiled it for me. When you spend as much time as I do peering at a computer screen, seeing words in digital display gets old. I like books, real books, the kind with words on paper, and I'm not likely to change much. Most of my books are available from Amazon in Kindle form, but my wife is responsible for that. She's the computer guru around here, and that's a good thing for me. I'm a digital retard . . . and proud of it.
Back in the sixties when the stereo craze kicked into high gear, I bought a system and enjoyed it. But I couldn't buy the really good stuff back then because I was a poor college professor just getting started. I loved photography too, but I didn't get a decent camera until the 1980s. When I closed in the two car garage and turned it into a big sewing room for my wife, I saved a small space there for my camera collection. Some of my collected vintage cameras are still at the shop across town, but I've got about 200 of them on display in my stereo room. Yeah, a room packed full of stuff I couldn't afford to buy back in the old days - big speakers, nice receivers, tape decks, and a really nice turntable. And there's one little CD player, the only thing back there that's digital.
Something was lost when the world went digital, especially in regard to audio equipment. Digital is much easier to work with, turns out fine music, and it's more affordable than the vintage stuff was when it was new. And, it's sterile. It's too clean, too perfect, if you get my drift, which means it lost its personality and character. Music that is great despite some imperfections is much better than music that's too close to perfect. I'm sure that claim doesn't make sense to the modern generation, but lots of music lovers will tell you the same thing. The same is true concerning literature. Kindle is great if you're a digihead, but it's an abomination to a real book lover. It has no character, or at least not nearly the character a book has. I own thousands of books, and just one Kindle Fire. I can download many times more books on that gadget than my house would hold in books. That's progress, an advancement in technology . . . but it's not my thing. And I won't apologize for it.
Back in the sixties when the stereo craze kicked into high gear, I bought a system and enjoyed it. But I couldn't buy the really good stuff back then because I was a poor college professor just getting started. I loved photography too, but I didn't get a decent camera until the 1980s. When I closed in the two car garage and turned it into a big sewing room for my wife, I saved a small space there for my camera collection. Some of my collected vintage cameras are still at the shop across town, but I've got about 200 of them on display in my stereo room. Yeah, a room packed full of stuff I couldn't afford to buy back in the old days - big speakers, nice receivers, tape decks, and a really nice turntable. And there's one little CD player, the only thing back there that's digital.
Something was lost when the world went digital, especially in regard to audio equipment. Digital is much easier to work with, turns out fine music, and it's more affordable than the vintage stuff was when it was new. And, it's sterile. It's too clean, too perfect, if you get my drift, which means it lost its personality and character. Music that is great despite some imperfections is much better than music that's too close to perfect. I'm sure that claim doesn't make sense to the modern generation, but lots of music lovers will tell you the same thing. The same is true concerning literature. Kindle is great if you're a digihead, but it's an abomination to a real book lover. It has no character, or at least not nearly the character a book has. I own thousands of books, and just one Kindle Fire. I can download many times more books on that gadget than my house would hold in books. That's progress, an advancement in technology . . . but it's not my thing. And I won't apologize for it.
Saturday, December 7, 2013
WHO PAYS ATTENTION TO WEATHER?
So, who pays attention to weather? Do you keep up with weather predictions for one reason or another? Most people do, but it seems to me that older people pay more attention than do younger folks. That's easy to understand since young people are a lot more self-absorbed with doing their own thing and sometimes don't pay close attention to weather. I've even had youngsters tell me, "Why bother? It's gonna happen one way or another, so why worry about it?" I can answer that lots of ways, but I'm not about to go through a lengthy listing.
If my job is an outside job, like perhaps a commercial fisherman, I'll watch the weather. As a truck driver, I'd do the same. Farmers observe weather closely, and so do winter sports advocates. But some people like to challenge bad weather. I headed home toward the Oklahoma panhandle once after spending Christmas with parents down in Mississippi with a warning. "You'll likely hit some bad weather. Be careful," my mom said. She was a dedicated weather watcher. I just smiled and said I would, confident that a little snow or ice wouldn't slow me down much. That night, I barely made it to the Oklahoma line before a massive snow storm shut me down - me and thousands of other motorists. We spent the night sleeping on the floor of the breakfast nook in a Holiday Inn, along with lots of other stranded travelers. A state trooper told me every church in town was full of people, that rescue teams were working hard to get stranded motorists out of cars out on the interstate I didn't get home until two days later.
I've got lots of snow stories to tell because I've been caught out on the road by blizzards before. Sometimes I knew they were coming, expected them, and took the chance anyway. Sometimes, though, I got caught by surprise. I'm a good snow and ice driver due to experience with it, and I've owned 4-wheel drive vehicles for a long time. I drove from Flagstaff to Albuquerque once on the worse black ice I've ever seen, and 4-wheel drive isn't a lot of help on pure ice. I don't recall ever doing that again.
Today the nation is gripped by cold, dangerous weather. Even here in central Texas, it's bad. More freezing rain and sleet predicted, more extreme cold tonight . . . but a friend up in the Oklahoma panhandle said it didn't get above 13 degrees there yesterday. And in Oklahoma City, they're socked in with ice and snow. Oklahoma State and OU play football today in that weather, and I'm sure the stands will be full of people. Young people can handle the cold better than old farts like me. I'll get out just long enough today to check on my shop across town, and that's it. Yeah, I'm old . . . and smarter . . . and with nothing of real importance to do. And I'll worry some about the people who can't stay inside today, like those brave folks who risk life and limb to get stranded motorists out of disabled vehicles. I'll worry for the troopers, wrecker drivers, truckers, firemen, snowplow operators, or anyone else trying to help people in trouble due to weather. Yeah, I btecha they watch the weather reports. Good luck, guys.
If my job is an outside job, like perhaps a commercial fisherman, I'll watch the weather. As a truck driver, I'd do the same. Farmers observe weather closely, and so do winter sports advocates. But some people like to challenge bad weather. I headed home toward the Oklahoma panhandle once after spending Christmas with parents down in Mississippi with a warning. "You'll likely hit some bad weather. Be careful," my mom said. She was a dedicated weather watcher. I just smiled and said I would, confident that a little snow or ice wouldn't slow me down much. That night, I barely made it to the Oklahoma line before a massive snow storm shut me down - me and thousands of other motorists. We spent the night sleeping on the floor of the breakfast nook in a Holiday Inn, along with lots of other stranded travelers. A state trooper told me every church in town was full of people, that rescue teams were working hard to get stranded motorists out of cars out on the interstate I didn't get home until two days later.
I've got lots of snow stories to tell because I've been caught out on the road by blizzards before. Sometimes I knew they were coming, expected them, and took the chance anyway. Sometimes, though, I got caught by surprise. I'm a good snow and ice driver due to experience with it, and I've owned 4-wheel drive vehicles for a long time. I drove from Flagstaff to Albuquerque once on the worse black ice I've ever seen, and 4-wheel drive isn't a lot of help on pure ice. I don't recall ever doing that again.
Today the nation is gripped by cold, dangerous weather. Even here in central Texas, it's bad. More freezing rain and sleet predicted, more extreme cold tonight . . . but a friend up in the Oklahoma panhandle said it didn't get above 13 degrees there yesterday. And in Oklahoma City, they're socked in with ice and snow. Oklahoma State and OU play football today in that weather, and I'm sure the stands will be full of people. Young people can handle the cold better than old farts like me. I'll get out just long enough today to check on my shop across town, and that's it. Yeah, I'm old . . . and smarter . . . and with nothing of real importance to do. And I'll worry some about the people who can't stay inside today, like those brave folks who risk life and limb to get stranded motorists out of disabled vehicles. I'll worry for the troopers, wrecker drivers, truckers, firemen, snowplow operators, or anyone else trying to help people in trouble due to weather. Yeah, I btecha they watch the weather reports. Good luck, guys.
Friday, December 6, 2013
SUPERSTITIOUS? YEAH, ME TOO
I'm superstitious about a lot of things, especially numbers. I avoid the number 13 if at all possible. Should a hotel clerk assign me a room with 13 in it, I'd reject it and ask for another. I won't carry 13 dollars in my wallet, and I won't stop the gas pump at any dollar amount involving that number. I don't like the number 9 either, but I feel good about 7.
Do you carry a good luck item around with you? Old time cowboy superstition says you should never carry a fifty cent piece in your pocket. Don't wear yellow, and never put your hat on a bed. I don't do those things, just in case they're right. Do you avoid stepping on cracks in a sidewalk? I'll have to admit to not worrying about cracks in sidewalks. And then there's the thing about black cats. I'm not superstitious about that, but I will admit to backing up and going around the block to keep from crossing a black cat's path that just ran across the street in front of me. I love cats, though - even black ones.
There's some scientific evidence to show that some superstitions hold up, like the one about full moon nights being bad. Ask a cop and see what he says about it, and you'll find that many of them dread full moon nights. But most superstitions are bunk, just a bunch of nonsense. Dan Moreno wore the number 13 when he played professional football, and he ended up being one of the most productive quarterbacks to ever play the game. I could go on and on about how numbers mean nothing at all, but I can't help myself when it comes to 13.
2013 has been a crappy year for me. It's been tough financially, demanding in terms of my work load as a writer, and difficult in other ways. Two trips to the hospital due to health problems, one that damn near got me . . . that's been my year. But . . . it's also been a lucky year. I didn't die, or at least I've survived to date, and a few good things happened. I won't be sorry to see it end. Writing checks the first few months of each year is always hard for me 'cause I usually screw up the date . . . but that's not likely to happen this time around. 2014 can't come to soon for me.
By the way, Moreno never played on a team that won a Super Bowl.
Do you carry a good luck item around with you? Old time cowboy superstition says you should never carry a fifty cent piece in your pocket. Don't wear yellow, and never put your hat on a bed. I don't do those things, just in case they're right. Do you avoid stepping on cracks in a sidewalk? I'll have to admit to not worrying about cracks in sidewalks. And then there's the thing about black cats. I'm not superstitious about that, but I will admit to backing up and going around the block to keep from crossing a black cat's path that just ran across the street in front of me. I love cats, though - even black ones.
There's some scientific evidence to show that some superstitions hold up, like the one about full moon nights being bad. Ask a cop and see what he says about it, and you'll find that many of them dread full moon nights. But most superstitions are bunk, just a bunch of nonsense. Dan Moreno wore the number 13 when he played professional football, and he ended up being one of the most productive quarterbacks to ever play the game. I could go on and on about how numbers mean nothing at all, but I can't help myself when it comes to 13.
2013 has been a crappy year for me. It's been tough financially, demanding in terms of my work load as a writer, and difficult in other ways. Two trips to the hospital due to health problems, one that damn near got me . . . that's been my year. But . . . it's also been a lucky year. I didn't die, or at least I've survived to date, and a few good things happened. I won't be sorry to see it end. Writing checks the first few months of each year is always hard for me 'cause I usually screw up the date . . . but that's not likely to happen this time around. 2014 can't come to soon for me.
By the way, Moreno never played on a team that won a Super Bowl.
Thursday, December 5, 2013
DON'T MAKE TOO MUCH OUT OF CHRISTMAS
I grew up in a home where commercialism was kept in check come Christmas time. Santa was always good to us on Christmas morning, and the house was a great place to be on that day. But both my parents had seminary degrees. My dad was a Baptist minister, and our Christmases were more about church related things - socials, the sharing of gifts, the big music presentation, and delivery of food and toys to families down on their luck. It was a good time, one I remember fondly.
Some people take Christmas to the extreme when it comes to decoration and celebration and all that, and that's fine up to a point. We sometimes drive around town to look at Christmas decorations, and I'm always amazed at how much effort some people put into it. Once while visiting a friend in Yukon, Oklahoma, we drove around his neighborhood looking at decorations. One house had an extraordinary display of lights and all sorts of things. Elaborate won't cover what this guy had done with his house and yard. I got a good laugh out of his next door neighbor's decoration because it consisted of just one thing - a lighted arrow across the top of his roof pointing toward the eleborate display next door.
I don't do much in the way of outdoor decoration these days, and we don't spend as much money on gifts now. The grandkids are older, and some years we spend Christmas pretty much alone. Even if the kids come, it's for just a short time. We don't bother to put up a fancy Christmas tree most years now, but there's still plenty of Christmas cheer around here . . . and I don't mean the kind that involves alcohol. I spent my last Christmas with a hangover well over thirty years ago. Nobody drinks around my place on Christmas. In fact, I think it's a low class thing to do. Why would you want to celebrate Christ's birthday with booze? I did at one time, but that was then, and back then I was a dumbass most of the year, not just on Christmas. These days, I celebrate the right way, and that's the Christian way.
I'm not a church person these days, haven't been for a long time, but I'm smart enough to remember what Christmas should be about. I spoiled a lot of Christmases past and don't have good memories of them. That's the price I pay for doing it the wrong way. I'm not much of a Christian either, but I'm of the opinion that Christmas actually belongs to them. Like the old saying: Jesus is the reason for the season. Celebrate Christmas any way you like, that's your right . . . but don't spoil it for the people who celebrate it for what it really is. Perhaps one of these days I'll face an accounting for things I did down here on earth, and if that happens I'm likely to be asked, "Did you really show up at your mama's house drunk on Christmas? Did you do that, brother Phil?" I really hate to answer that question.
Some people take Christmas to the extreme when it comes to decoration and celebration and all that, and that's fine up to a point. We sometimes drive around town to look at Christmas decorations, and I'm always amazed at how much effort some people put into it. Once while visiting a friend in Yukon, Oklahoma, we drove around his neighborhood looking at decorations. One house had an extraordinary display of lights and all sorts of things. Elaborate won't cover what this guy had done with his house and yard. I got a good laugh out of his next door neighbor's decoration because it consisted of just one thing - a lighted arrow across the top of his roof pointing toward the eleborate display next door.
I don't do much in the way of outdoor decoration these days, and we don't spend as much money on gifts now. The grandkids are older, and some years we spend Christmas pretty much alone. Even if the kids come, it's for just a short time. We don't bother to put up a fancy Christmas tree most years now, but there's still plenty of Christmas cheer around here . . . and I don't mean the kind that involves alcohol. I spent my last Christmas with a hangover well over thirty years ago. Nobody drinks around my place on Christmas. In fact, I think it's a low class thing to do. Why would you want to celebrate Christ's birthday with booze? I did at one time, but that was then, and back then I was a dumbass most of the year, not just on Christmas. These days, I celebrate the right way, and that's the Christian way.
I'm not a church person these days, haven't been for a long time, but I'm smart enough to remember what Christmas should be about. I spoiled a lot of Christmases past and don't have good memories of them. That's the price I pay for doing it the wrong way. I'm not much of a Christian either, but I'm of the opinion that Christmas actually belongs to them. Like the old saying: Jesus is the reason for the season. Celebrate Christmas any way you like, that's your right . . . but don't spoil it for the people who celebrate it for what it really is. Perhaps one of these days I'll face an accounting for things I did down here on earth, and if that happens I'm likely to be asked, "Did you really show up at your mama's house drunk on Christmas? Did you do that, brother Phil?" I really hate to answer that question.
Wednesday, December 4, 2013
PHIL AND FONZE'S FRUIT CAKES
Last year about this time I was talking with my buddy Alphonse Dotson, and the subject of fruitcakes came up. I admitted that I liked fruitcakes, and he agreed, saying he missed having them around during the holidays. Well, one thing led to another, and before long we'd hatched a plan to make our own fruitcakes. Right. Two old guys whose claim to fame as cooks is Alphonse's famous collard greens and my southern cornbread. We've shared those two things on several occasions. But fruitcakes?
So, we spent a couple of days in the kitchen here at the house looking up recipes on the internet. We went shopping and bought the ingredients we needed, then started making cakes. The first one was a bust because we overcooked it. The second one was better, and after tinkering with the recipe a little and adjusting the oven heat, we came up with a good fruitcake. We did one with wine and several with whiskey, and since I don't like booze in my food, some plain fruitcakes for me. With each of armed with four or five cakes of our very own, we proceeded to inflict them upon anybody who got close to us. I had less success than he did in getting people to try my fruitcakes. Alphonse is a former defensive lineman for the Oakland Raiders, so he can be a little more persuasive than me.
Yesterday morning, Alphonse came by to make more fruitcakes. We ended up getting four done, and they came out pretty well . . . or at least it seems that way. Fruitcakes need to age some, aren't really good until they've been sitting for a few days in the frig. Fonze took his cakes home to doctor them with brandy and whiskey, so we won't know for a week what we've got. The problem with two old dudes like us cooking is that both of us have this big is better attitude. If the recipe says one tablespoon of vanilla, two is better. If it says one cup of wine, a half bottle is better. If it says one cup of pecans, three cups are better. Our one cake recipe turns out to make two cakes, but that's understandable.
The acid test comes when Aphonse's mother, who is 96 years old, give 'em the taste test in a few weeks. She loved last year's crop of fruitcakes, and I think she'll like this year's as well. And, you know, if you can please mama, that's second best to pleasing your wife. My wife, by the way, tasted the fresh fruitcake last night and said, "Not bad." That means B plus in wife talk.
So, we spent a couple of days in the kitchen here at the house looking up recipes on the internet. We went shopping and bought the ingredients we needed, then started making cakes. The first one was a bust because we overcooked it. The second one was better, and after tinkering with the recipe a little and adjusting the oven heat, we came up with a good fruitcake. We did one with wine and several with whiskey, and since I don't like booze in my food, some plain fruitcakes for me. With each of armed with four or five cakes of our very own, we proceeded to inflict them upon anybody who got close to us. I had less success than he did in getting people to try my fruitcakes. Alphonse is a former defensive lineman for the Oakland Raiders, so he can be a little more persuasive than me.
Yesterday morning, Alphonse came by to make more fruitcakes. We ended up getting four done, and they came out pretty well . . . or at least it seems that way. Fruitcakes need to age some, aren't really good until they've been sitting for a few days in the frig. Fonze took his cakes home to doctor them with brandy and whiskey, so we won't know for a week what we've got. The problem with two old dudes like us cooking is that both of us have this big is better attitude. If the recipe says one tablespoon of vanilla, two is better. If it says one cup of wine, a half bottle is better. If it says one cup of pecans, three cups are better. Our one cake recipe turns out to make two cakes, but that's understandable.
The acid test comes when Aphonse's mother, who is 96 years old, give 'em the taste test in a few weeks. She loved last year's crop of fruitcakes, and I think she'll like this year's as well. And, you know, if you can please mama, that's second best to pleasing your wife. My wife, by the way, tasted the fresh fruitcake last night and said, "Not bad." That means B plus in wife talk.
WHERE'S THE DELETE BUTTON?
If you want to really piss off your wife, point the remote control clicker at her when she's talking. It's a joke, right? Well, yeah . . . sort of. There's even a move out there about that, a man with a magic clicker. I'm more fascinated with the potential uses of a delete button. The most used key on my computer board is the delete button, and that's because I make a lot of mistakes. Wouldn't it be great if we all came with a delete button?
On second thought, no. Life for me would sure be short if I had one. And it might not be that I'd use it all that much because if my wife ever found out where my delete button was, she'd wear it out. It's a good thing women don't have a clicker to control the men in her life. If men had a clicker for women, it would have only three buttons - food, sex, shut up. If a woman had a clicker for a man, it would have multiple keys, probably too many to get on a hand held device. I won't even go there.
How often have you said something that should've been deleted? Did you ever count your little screw-ups in a day? I had one of those days yesterday where nothing went right. About the only thing I did right was go to bed early, which is why I'm up before daylight writing blogs. If I had a delete button, my day yesterday would've been short, like maybe an hour. All the rest went to the trash. That reminds me of another disadvantage of a delete button. What if I delete something and then want it back later when I discover that I really needed it after all? You know, maybe I really do have a delete button. Maybe that's why I can never remember where my car keys are, or my checkbook, or my glasses, or that cup of coffee I just poured. Damn! I better start looking for it.
On second thought, no. Life for me would sure be short if I had one. And it might not be that I'd use it all that much because if my wife ever found out where my delete button was, she'd wear it out. It's a good thing women don't have a clicker to control the men in her life. If men had a clicker for women, it would have only three buttons - food, sex, shut up. If a woman had a clicker for a man, it would have multiple keys, probably too many to get on a hand held device. I won't even go there.
How often have you said something that should've been deleted? Did you ever count your little screw-ups in a day? I had one of those days yesterday where nothing went right. About the only thing I did right was go to bed early, which is why I'm up before daylight writing blogs. If I had a delete button, my day yesterday would've been short, like maybe an hour. All the rest went to the trash. That reminds me of another disadvantage of a delete button. What if I delete something and then want it back later when I discover that I really needed it after all? You know, maybe I really do have a delete button. Maybe that's why I can never remember where my car keys are, or my checkbook, or my glasses, or that cup of coffee I just poured. Damn! I better start looking for it.
Tuesday, December 3, 2013
DEMOCRACY IS A FAILURE
I taught political science at the university level for over 30 years, and I chose public administration as my major field when in grad school. That qualifies me as a bit more of a critic than most but still leaves me short when it comes to saying that democracy in America has completely failed. We haven't reached the point of total failure, but we're headed in that direction. I'm not the first to be bold enough to say that. Even basic textbooks for American Government have essentially said the same . . . but with a little less outright boldness. I'll stick with my claim. Our system of government is a failure, and that means democracy has failed too.
Establishing a federal system where the central government shared power with the states is partly responsible for the failure. States' rights aren't equal to that of the federal government, but they are strong enough to cause some major problems when it comes to implementing policy. Obamacare is just one example of how federalism causes us to fail. But there's more to it than that, much more. If the central government could lay claim to really being a big brother, one that takes care of the heavy stuff, they'd have more justification for mandating policy states had no choice but to go along with. But their track record is poor, and people don't trust them. In fact, we seem to trust our local governments, and that includes state governments, more than we do the federal government.
We have three branches of government at federal level - legislative, executive, and judicial. We elect the Congress, composed of the House of Representatives and the Senate. Congress is our only true democratic branch, the one subject to the election process. It's the most democratic, but it's also our most worthless. The biggest branch, the executive branch, has only two elected officials, that being the President and Vice-President. All the others are appointed, and the same is true of the judicial branch. But at the state level, we do far more electing of public officials. Some states even elect judges, and that's not good.
An agrument could be made that the real blame for lousy government rests in the hands of the voter. We're the ones who put the politicians who run for office in positions of power, and that leaves us with a big management problem. No politician is automarically a competent manager for a simple reason - they don't have the training. When you train managers to do specific tasks, you end up with a more efficient government . . . and we just don't do enough of that. And that's the bottom line when it comes to good government - you've got to have better managers.
What I'm saying in a roundabout way is that the problem isn't our structure as much as it is our system of administration. We nead to streamline the structure some, but we'll never be an efficient system until we get politicans out of the managing business. Let them make broad policy, then turn the administration, the implementation, over to people who know what they're doing. The American voter isn't likely to get any smarter and won't be sending better people to elected office. It's almost like the dancing puppet kids love without even seeing who pulls the strings. Maybe we need some of that - managers we never see or know, but are people who can make the puppet dance well.
Establishing a federal system where the central government shared power with the states is partly responsible for the failure. States' rights aren't equal to that of the federal government, but they are strong enough to cause some major problems when it comes to implementing policy. Obamacare is just one example of how federalism causes us to fail. But there's more to it than that, much more. If the central government could lay claim to really being a big brother, one that takes care of the heavy stuff, they'd have more justification for mandating policy states had no choice but to go along with. But their track record is poor, and people don't trust them. In fact, we seem to trust our local governments, and that includes state governments, more than we do the federal government.
We have three branches of government at federal level - legislative, executive, and judicial. We elect the Congress, composed of the House of Representatives and the Senate. Congress is our only true democratic branch, the one subject to the election process. It's the most democratic, but it's also our most worthless. The biggest branch, the executive branch, has only two elected officials, that being the President and Vice-President. All the others are appointed, and the same is true of the judicial branch. But at the state level, we do far more electing of public officials. Some states even elect judges, and that's not good.
An agrument could be made that the real blame for lousy government rests in the hands of the voter. We're the ones who put the politicians who run for office in positions of power, and that leaves us with a big management problem. No politician is automarically a competent manager for a simple reason - they don't have the training. When you train managers to do specific tasks, you end up with a more efficient government . . . and we just don't do enough of that. And that's the bottom line when it comes to good government - you've got to have better managers.
What I'm saying in a roundabout way is that the problem isn't our structure as much as it is our system of administration. We nead to streamline the structure some, but we'll never be an efficient system until we get politicans out of the managing business. Let them make broad policy, then turn the administration, the implementation, over to people who know what they're doing. The American voter isn't likely to get any smarter and won't be sending better people to elected office. It's almost like the dancing puppet kids love without even seeing who pulls the strings. Maybe we need some of that - managers we never see or know, but are people who can make the puppet dance well.
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