It Is What It Is

New Direction

2010-10-02T12:14:00.003-05:00

Now hear this.

There's a new web page in town...make that online.

It Is What It Is Jake.com

Had an offer I couldn't refuse and put a little something together to make it easier and not so confining as this here blogspot thingy.

Just for your information... the new web page...

It Is What It Is Jake.com

...will be where all my concentration will be. I hope you will page on over and give it a try. The web page is bit more friendly and still will have all my archives for your favorite stories you love so much....

...the new web page will have an easier user friendly comment section for you to use...so please make use of it..and let me know if anything in there puts a smile on your big ol mugg and brings happiness to those around you...

thanks for hanging in there with me, but please head on over to the new place where I will be a putting words into reading.

It Is What It Is Jake.com

It's only been 21 years...

2010-09-11T10:06:00.006-05:00

Finally, the day has arrived.

Our local university once again has football on its list of sports that fields a team.

Twenty-one years. Wow. A freaking lifetime it seems.

What has changed in your life in the past 21 years? Family, work, bought a new vehicle, discovered a new love or hobby?

The buzz that has been created with the bringing back of collegiate football to our local higher education campus is running rampant like a California wildfire.

Big Red mania is touching just about everyone and everything. Thinking back to the last college game I attended, I remember sitting close to the band in the sun soaked bleachers on the east side. The year, was probably circa 1974-75.

Tonight marks Lamar University's first home game in 21 years.

My oldest brother originally attended Lamar when it was known as Lamar Tech. Way back in the day. I remember him making it as a cheerleader for Lamar.

Now that I think about it, he had a pretty good thing going on...considering the benefits of jumping up and down with the female version of a college cheerleader....

The game is sold out. Standing room only. All the parking lots in close proximity to the stadium are sealed up with tail-gaters and LU supporters.

The stadium has been re-furbished...top to bottom. New field house. Newly designed Big Red mascot, snazzy new uniforms, the marching band is back, local football players with a chance to perform at the college level in front of hometown fans.

I bought season tickets. Got plans to take in as much of the festivities as I can and still find my seat. Weather looks good, I'll have my red on and watch from my second level vantage point.

Let's Go Big Red.

The only down side to today... my son has been smitten with the hormone bug. Seems he has opted for a 'party' of a school mate that happens to be celebrating the magical Sweet Sixteen tonight.

Once again, the mystery of the female lure to a growing young man has surfaced. He and his mother even went as far to purchase the 'perfect' shirt for this gala event.

I completely understand.

I succumbed to the lure almost 30 years ago myself; but I DO have the 3 seats ALL to myself, to spread out on to enjoy the first home game tonight.

Support your local sporting venues...and the freedoms we enjoy as Americans.

Go Big Red.

9-11

2010-09-11T09:48:00.004-05:00

9-11

Remember that day!

I am not asking you IF you remember the morning, it's more of a reminder to you to simply not ever forget that day.

Our lives, our nation was changed in an instant. Our security had been threatened and yet, our American neighbors, our American family became closer on that day.

All barriers became non-existent at that moment and continued for a short while. Barriers of our own making.

Economic.

Religion.

Race.

Ethnic.

Politics.

People lined up together in donor lines for giving of their blood.

People had a new found patriotism and joined our military.

People prayed to God.

And as history tells us, the American society has come together and are rebuilding their lives. Rebuilding our nation in particular, at Ground Zero there in New York. It looks to be a tribute to America and our stamina and intestinal fortitude.

Remember 9-11 as you wish.

It's a freedom you can enjoy. Say a prayer, remember the moment you heard the news, the way you felt, something you heard someone say that has burned into your memory.

Remember 9-11

Counting it a Blessing

2010-09-06T17:53:00.005-05:00

Call it what you want, I will call it a blessing.

One of many divine interventions I have received that has provided for my family over the course of my married life and career.

A recent offer from another business unit at the plant site that I have worked at for the last 20 plus years will allow me the opportunity to finish my career with the same company.

A blessing from God to me and my family. Plain and simple.

It really has been a tumultuous ride since the announcement of the decision to 'exit' the business last year.

Some of the men I worked with, managed to find positions with a 'sister' plant in a neighboring county, while others secured new employment with a new employer and refinery. Only a couple actually will take retirement after the wrecking ball finishes its job of dismantlement.

All the while, I was thinking of taking the severance package and going on to quite possibly another field altogether. I have two good friends who are in real estate and I tossed the idea around to get into that field.

Or even going back to my roots of working in the electrical construction industry... but the more I watched my friends drift away to their jobs, I began to wonder and allow that emotion of doubt to filter in.

What if...

What about...

How will you manage that...

The rumor mill had it that the last standing business unit at the Beaumont Works site would be needing specific skill based individuals by years end.

Did you see the second word in that sentence above....'rumor'.

Finally one day, in an informational meeting I was in, the announcement was shared that the other business unit would in deed want to talk to any employees of specific skill sets (electricians, maintenance mechanics, & operators) for consideration in furthering their careers.

Furthering my career....all I need is another 4-1/2 years to finish to reach the magic number to get the 100% of retirement.

As it was, the other business unit had an immediate opening of... count 'em.. 1 electrician...and it just so happened that I was the last standing electrician that was in need of a position after the wrecking ball finished wrecking my existing unit.

Sounds simple right? Still the interview process and the nerves and stress until you finally get the official offer. This took a total of about 2 months..maybe less.

Any one of the guys that I mentioned earlier would of loved to have the opportunity to take that position, but they had to respond to what was in front of them at the time.

Divine intervention..? That's my take on it.

When I look back and see all of the times that God has put things together to provide for me and my family. I simply sit in awe of His power and His grace.

Reckon I am just a work in progress with Him...or maybe it's someone I've yet to meet and be a part of their life or for them to influence my life someway.

Thank you God for all that You have done for me. For getting my attention without the flaming bush or the parting of lake Sam Rayburn like you did the Red Sea a few years back.

Thanks for putting up with me and my weak attempts at being a child of yours. I will try to do better, but, You know that don't you....yeah, You know everything.

Not only do You know our needs, you know them before we do...

Sir..Excuse me but...

2010-08-30T19:51:00.005-05:00

Justification.

I found it in the parking lot of our local Lowe's Home Center here in Beaumont. Wasn't even sure when I pulled up to the parking space that was about as in between the entrance and the exit as humanly possible, that I was gonna run smack dab, squared up, and eyeball to eyeball with justice, but I did.

Think back to the last time you were confronted with the guy at the intersection of Have and Have Not. You know who I'm talking about, the man with the sign informing you of his situation, only needing $20 to get back home, or his water pump is busted, or will work for food which usually gets him cash instead of food.

Most of us keep cash or change in our truck consoles or the ash tray, but never is there a spare hamburger or chicken basket in the passenger seat when you really need one.

Back in June of this year, I stopped on the way home from work to buy a replacement ice cream freezer. Upon exiting the store and finding my truck, I was confronted by an individual with these words..

"Sir...excuse me but could you help me?"

The man didn't mind getting up and into my personal space with his request which was short and to the point.

Seems he had car trouble. The water pump had gone out and it was gonna take $75 to get a replacement. He had his wife and their 12 year old son with him and were from out of town.

No kidding, out of town. Actually he said they were from a little town northwest of Houston called Tomball, Texas.

Beaumont is 88 miles east of Houston. The story was a good one but there was that doubt creeping in.

Being the good guy that I am, I dug into my front pocket and gave him all my change that I had. Nothing but coins which probably totaled up to about $3 or $4 dollars.

On my trip home, I kept thinking about his plight and wondered if I had done enough.

Don't you hate it when your conscience kicks in and makes you feel like you know you could of and should of done more. I almost turned around to go back and give him some of my hard earned folding money, but I didn't.

Fast forward to today. Lowe's Home Center parking lot. Me and my son are making a few runs across town, picking up stuff we need. Dog food and dog bones from the pet store. Checked out a couple of items at Academy, then over to Lowe's for the wife's light bulbs she needs for her bathroom.

Pulling up to the chosen parking space, I notice a thin and aggravated looking woman leaning up against the metal catch pen for Lowe's shopping carts.

Man, did she look out of place. We no sooner got out of our truck, than this guy walks right up to us and says...

"Sir..excuse me, we're from out of town...that's my wife who is 5 months pregnant over there and we need some help getting back home. We live in Tomball...a little town northwest of Houston and our car is broken down...."

Hold it right there mister...that's the same story you told me a couple of months ago across town at the other hardware store. Where's your son today?

Me? I don't have a son. We're from Tomball...

Stop the lies buddy. You came up to me 2 months ago with the same story, only your water pump was busted and you needed $75 to get a new one.

Me? No sir, that had to be someone else. I swear to God it wasn't me....

You swear to God...? I don't think so pal. Do you need some help getting out of my way right now and finding your car to head back to Tomball which is northwest of Houston??

Instant justification. The look on his face said it all and put it right back on him in about as quick a time as it takes to answer the question...

Hi, how are you?

Fine, and you?

In a nutshell. I had scored a direct hit. He began to backtrack and gather himself and his 5 month pregnant wife.
Do you remember me saying how 'thin' she looked leaning against the cart storage pen, texting away on her blue berry wireless thingy?

When we exited the store, we made a quick scan to see if they were still around but didn't see any gathering of folks anywhere around.

Score one for the good guys today.

I found justification and loved it. Sure made up for it being a rainy day Monday as we drove away with his words echoing in my head...

I swear to God, it wasn't me.....swear to God.

Relaxin'

2010-08-14T21:08:00.004-05:00

Just relax will you?

Well, I am trying to..really I am. Seems like I just about forgot how to really relax. But with a few more days like today, the total memory recall should kick in shortly.

This has only been my second weekend off that I didn't have to lead into with taking vacation since early this year.

Yeah, I know, I should be thankful to be employed, and I am. I give God thanks everyday for providing for my family through HIS blessings that include our health, our home, our friends, my job that provides so many benefits, and last but not least a Native Texan.

I have found that every Saturday in August, cable TV's American Movie Classic channel plays John Wayne movies all day and night....and in between movies I have seen, I get to watch the Little League playoffs for next weekend's schedule of the Little League World Series. Talk about some good baseball...take a look see and become a fan of tomorrow's big league stars.

I have almost become one with the couch through the course of the day. Relaxing while watching the Duke, baseball, and even finding time to give you a little posting.

I hope to be a bit more diligent in my writing in the coming weeks as my work situation calms down and isn't quite so intense for another month or so. We shall see shant we?

Have an interview next Tuesday for an opening with another unit at my plant site. It's been years since I have been stressed over doing a job interview so I will let you know how it goes as soon as I know something.

There is a possibility I may be upgrading to my own web page in the near future. One of my nieces is getting married in the near future and her husband to be is an IT tech and offered to help me get my own web page....which would offer a lot more to do with a personal page than this type I have now.

Will let you know as it gets closer.

Take care folks, I appreciate your being here, whether it be by complete mistake OR you actually punched in the address to see in fact....

....it is what it is.

Memory Triggers

2010-07-18T20:32:00.008-05:00

How many times do you hear a phrase that takes you back to a specific event?

Do you have any catch phrases that secretly mean something to only a few of your closest friends or family? Do you remember specific details and how this phrase or single word came to be that triggering mechanism of your memory?

One single word comes to mind that quickly takes me and my wife back to an occurrence while on a belated honeymoon to Florida.

In our attempt to find the interstate highway that would take us to our next destination, we passed a roadside vendor selling peaches. Not just any peaches mind you, these were being hailed as genuine Georgia peaches.

The sign that stated this proclamation read with a southern accent that matched the deep southern twang of the old country boy that was in charge of selling these here same genuine Georgia peaches.

To this day I am not certain just how close we were to the state line of Georgia, so we just took it for the truth and pulled over to see about getting our hands on some of them peaches.

Within just a matter of minutes we had made our selection, paid the man in cash money as was requested and stated on another sign that simply read 'Cash Only', and then we were ready to get on down the road.

Seems like there may have been some banjo music in the background but I wasn't certain.. but then never mind.

The man insisted on carrying the peaches to the car for us to complete the sale and being the good salesman he was, noticed our Texas license plates on our recently purchased, brand new, very first 'newlyweds' car; a 1981 Buick Regal with dark blue crushed velour interior that was highlighted by the then popular landau vinyl roof.

"So y'all from Texas are ya..?" he asked.

"Yes we are." And without missing a beat he replied to us,

"You know, I'd trade all my peach trees for just a one your oil wells...yes sir, every single one of my trees...for a single oil well."

"Well, if I had one to trade you, we might be able to work out a deal..." I replied.

As I was opening the passenger side door, he kind of stopped when I said that, but then quickly continued to placing the two small baskets of peaches on the floor mat behind the front passenger's seat when he remarked to us:

"You know, that's some mighty fine upholstery you got in that there car of yourn, yes sirree, mighty fine it is....well, I thank ya, thank ya kindly now."

We thanked him for his help and told him we would be thinking about his offer and we just might be back one day.

Upholstery. That's our trigger word right there, yes sirree, and a good one too. Clean up to today, some 29 years later. But you gotta say it with emphasis on the first syllable, UP-hole-stree...say it out loud now...UP-hole-stree, Georgia style.

Thought I heard something behind me

2010-06-21T20:09:00.005-05:00

Are you scared of the dark?

Do you like to watch scary movies? Does your imagination play tricks on you when you are alone? Have you ever heard noises that defy common sense?

Are you alone right now reading this...? Are you sure you're alone....? Is the door locked?

Was that a strange car sitting in front of the neighbors a couple of doors down...?

There was a time when my imagination would run rampant and bring the eerie sounds to my ear. Like the time I was preparing for a hunting trip. It was opening weekend of deer season here in East Texas and I had my checklist of items that would be necessary to make it as comfortable as possible for the next couple of nights.

As those nights would be spent in a tent there in the piney woods of East Texas. Not minding having to rough it, I welcomed the challenge...how bad could it be.

The night before I left for the weekend, I was talked into watching the movie, and some of you will remember this one...

The Blair Witch Project.

Talk about a really bad idea. Talk about a wild freaking imagination. I heard voices all night long. Even having my loaded shotgun laying next to me wasn't enough to allow sleep to come. I am sure I heard the scratching on the nylon walls several times during the night.

Thought I heard something behind me....

Then there was the time I borrowed my brother in law's pop up camper. Finally off the ground....and safe from the boogie man.

Yeah right. Those style campers have slide out beds that are covered by mere canvas. The boogie man can slice right thru that stuff and get you quick. That night I dreamed the canvas had collapsed on top of me and I couldn't even scream for help.

Fine shape I would of been in if the boogie man and his buddies had shown up. Seems like I was packing my shotgun and my grandpa's old pistol he bought way back when he was running for constable, but that didn't help much against the imagination that was having its way with my mind.

Walking to the deer stand one morning, I thought I heard something behind me... oh crap.

Did I load my rifle? Did I put a round in the chamber? What the hell was that noise..?

Sounded like footsteps behind me...as I spin around, the noise comes from the direction I was just heading....double crap...there's more than one.

I just freeze and hold my breath, figuring dawn is about an hour away and I won't be missed until at least 10 A.M. My entire body would be ... could be ... that noise again is at my feet.

Then I realize that the noise is the small leafless twigs of an indigenous plant that was rubbing against my insulated overalls.

I knew it all along. Yeah right, imagine that.

Then on the walk back to the camp after not seeing anything pass by your stand, you notice just off the path your taking, a rather large collection of animal droppings....and some really big paw prints...as in a big cat with big paws that leave big droppings ... and your mind tells you that all cats cover their stuff with dirt so it won't be seen....OR do they?

I thought I heard something behind me the other day, as I was coming in thru the garage... but I realized it was only my rear end that was dragging behind me. These extended hours I am working are taking a toll on me. A two day weekend is just enough to make me want to sleep with a loaded weapon, but the voices keep telling me differently. Hit the snooze button, it's gonna be okay.

Did you hear something just now...? Is the patio door locked? Was that something outside your window?

Must of been the wind.

....or was it?

Amazed...simply amazed

2010-06-17T18:50:00.006-05:00

This afternoon finds me chilling under a ceiling fan, watching Wheel of Fortune game show, checking my Facebook page, reading emails, and looking to see how many if any new visitors there have been to this old blog.

Again, I stand...make that... sit before you amazed. Simply amazed. Either you folks have an amazingly docile life like mine, have minimum outside interests, OR just love reading about someone who has it worse off than yourself.

Now hang on a second...don't go and click out of here... that right there was a touch of humor. I really do appreciate your taking the time to come in and check in. My little visitor meter keeps a tally on where you folks are from and that really amazes me. I go on about this fact simply because of the ease that our world comes together.

Really a small world we live in, unless of course you walk everywhere you have to go. I was cleaning out stuff in my office the other day...stuff that my former boss left behind. What a treat I found. Try and follow me with this.

It was a framed collection of post cards, photos, and a program from a museum in Poland. All of these items were pasted on top of a map of Poland and set under glass suitable for hanging.

Curiosity got the best of me with the one envelope facing backwards. There had to be an address on the other side, so I went to work at opening the framed work of Polish heritage.

Amazing enough, the name and address was in English and was actually a local person that lived in my home town of Beaumont, Texas.

Turns out the online service of Google helped with a few of the Polish words and told me the arrangement was about beekeeping. That's right beekeeping and their beehives.

Seems the lady's name was listed in our phone book and from a quick conversation with her husband, she was a certified beekeeper and had traveled all over the world working with bees.

At the plant site where I work, this lady had kept several beehives and had maintained access to the bees for several years with the chemical units springing up around the compound.

Just a heads up, I understand that I will be getting a digital recorder for Father's Day this weekend....you know one of those things that help with taking notes without having to write it down, so I plan on contacting the woman next week, and see about getting a story from her about the bees and the collection of Polish beehives and the style of hives common to Poland.

You can bet that I will putting this story together for you kind folks that keep coming back for more. You know who you are, all of you...or as we say here in Texas.... all y'all. Which is in the plural tense. Singular tense would just be..... y'all.

So you peeps from Mississippi, Michigan, Minnesota, Missouri, Arizona, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Texas, New York, Delaware, California, Louisiana take a listen right here....we got real life foreigners making their presence known.

There's been a couple of folks from the Ukraine and Leeds, U.K. How sweet is that?

Take care girls and boys, come on back and I promise to have a decent beekeeping story up and running soon.

What a ride this has been...

2010-06-03T20:55:00.005-05:00

Hey Gang...bet you're wondering where the heck has ol Jake been huh?

To still a line from an old Mel Brooks film, it's simply been busy...

"Work work work work work.....work work work work.......work work.."

Current status has me working 7 days a week and putting in 10 hour days. By the time I get up and get to work, take care of business which now includes the duties of a detail foreman, since my boss has taken an 'early' retirement, I moved up a notch...do a little bit of paperwork, smooth all the wrinkles out for one work group, hold the hand and tell my electrical engineer that all will be OK, leave for home and maybe even get something to eat, I pretty much don't care to sit in front of a computer like I am doing right now.

But I stumbled back to this here ol blog after paying a few bills that were screaming at me for attention and thought I might give you an update.

Not sure how much longer these crazy hours will continue, but as one friend refers to the overtime....keep making the long green for as long as you can, then worry about getting some rest.

Just in case you missed the big announcement on Facebook, I now...make that WE now have a brand new 'lake-house' on wheels a-sitting in the driveway. Yep, we went and bought us a brand new travel trailer for those close encounters with them slimy green fish up at the lake. It's always fun to get plum bone tired from a day of chasing them critters around Big Sam, my favorite Texas impoundment...and then retiring to a shower and a bed only a couple of blocks from the boat ramp so we can do it again the next day.

But for now, the camper just sits and waits for the maiden voyage to the north country. It sits and waits just across the driveway from the boat that will float me and my stress related woes...the woes from working so dang many hours....float them woes right down to the level of those bottom dwelling, mud and sand creeping, itty-bitty thangs that we don't hardly got names for...that survive without sunshine and fresh air.

Glad you stopped by, I've been checking in on you regular visitors that keep a-coming back for whatever it is you get by reading my writing. Makes me feel all warm and fuzzy kind of...almost like Charlie Brown once said about peeing yourself in your dark pants.

" It gives you a warm feeling but nobody notices you...what you did."

Later Tater... see ya in the funny papers.

An Irish Blessing

2010-05-10T20:28:00.010-05:00

Had the opportunity to take part in an after school activity with my son last week. Some of you that are fortunate enough to live here in our little corner of Texas may have seen the local news reporting on this story, but you missed out on the best part.

James T. O'Brien, better known as Mr.O'Brien to the huddled mass of students at West Brook High School here in Beaumont, Texas; is what is known and described as a 'permanent substitute' teacher.

That in itself is a new phrase to me. A permanent substitute 'anything' rings of an oxymoron; several of which we have in our world today.

Take for instance the couple of examples I have here.

Jumbo shrimp. Calling someone a shrimp usually refers to the smaller stature of the individual. Putting jumbo in front of shrimp, are they now extra small?

What about a near miss. C'mon folks...a near miss is just wrong. If you nearly miss something, did you not actually hit it?

Getting back on track and as I understand it, our story's subject today has a new challenge in his life. Mr.O'Brien has been diagnosed with stage 4 kidney cancer. Quite honestly, the news made a stir among the student body and resulted in a form of benefit for their favorite permanent substitute.

The idea of a t-shirt sale highlighting one of many traits that Mr.O'Brien shares daily with the students. At the start of every class he subs for, he gives the class an Irish blessing in writing on the chalk board or dry erase board, whatever they use nowadays. Now mind you these blessings are written in the traditional Gaelic language and widely unknown are the definitions of each blessing. As does every t-shirt that was sold, each has a specific blessing emblazoned across the chest.

Last week on a Wednesday, all the students that had purchased a t-shirt were asked to wear them to class so that a group picture could be taken for the yearbook. Well over a hundred students were prepared for the event which also was covered by a local television station that was aired later that day on the 2 nightly news casts.

What you didn't see was the well organized cross-town trek of about 40 or 50 students, all clad in their green t-shirts to pay an unexpected visit to Mr.O'Brien's home. The intent was to show their love and respect for the man as a mentor and to present him with the proceeds from the t-shirt sale.

Now this cross-town trek would cover maybe 10 miles or so. We would be faced with several different obstacles like traffic lights, getting caught by a train, 5 o'clock traffic, and a line of twenty or so cars and trucks trying to stay in a single line so as not to get lost. My son and I brought up the end of the line and to my best guess as we witnessed the caravan snaking across town, there were probably at least one or as many as sixteen different traffic violations committed but the end result, we all arrived safe and sound at the designated point.

Upon arrival at the LZ (landing zone) the group was instructed as to just how and what they would do from this point on.

When was the last time you saw 40 something teenagers together and actually listened to the instructions and were talking just above a whisper? Yeah, thought so..it's been a while.

Being the only parent in the vicinity, I tagged along the right flank of the group, not realizing that I was about to witness an historic event. From a close distance (oxymoron) across the street I watched the group as they crossed the parking lot, enter into the street all along walking quietly, and into the yard of Mr.O'Brien.

The leader while walking backwards held up a few fingers in a muted countdown to the group and on key began shouting out the mantra to draw out their target of the day...

"O'Brien, O'Brien, O'Brien" The normally 2 syllable pronounced name became at least 3 and sounded like they were saying... oh-bry-enn, oh-bry-enn.

Shortly after about the fourth or fifth shout, Mr.O'Brien appeared at the door of his patio. The meeting would last about an hour which only an innocent bystander would have noted.

There were one on one conversations, laughter, and probably a few tears, oh wait, those might have been mine due to watching our youth of today, taking time out of their afternoon to exhibit the love from the student body to an individual who happened to have chosen a career so many years ago to reach out and make a difference in the lives of children.

As time elapsed, each one of the students were sent off with yet another Irish blessing written across the shoulders of their personal O'Brien t-shirt. Only to be told, that upon each student's graduation, would they learn the meaning of the phrase, no make that the definition of the blessing Mr.O'Brien gave each one.

I am not sure who received the blessing that day, the students, Mr.O'Brien, or myself.

Section, Row, Seat

2010-04-25T10:23:00.014-05:00

My brother-in-law offered us his tickets to Friday night's game between the Houston Astros and the Pittsburgh Pirates. Being as I was not planning on working the weekend, I jumped at the offer and had a great night of baseball with just the boys, me and my son Russ.

Since Cindy, my wife & Russ' mom decided not to go, we had the choice of all four seats. Called a good friend of mine that had recently moved just north of Houston, but he and his wife couldn't make it. Maybe another time.

Figured we could spread out if we wanted to just in case there was some big guy sitting in front of us and we needed the angle...which worked out good, since there was a couple of big guys sitting in front of us.

Which leads me to the seat sizes. Now these seats were field seats, yet in the outfield. The area is known as the Bullpen...so in real terms not the Field Level seating but the Bullpen. I guess the seats in the Bullpen area are about 4 inches more narrow than those in the 'real' Field Level seating area because I had to hold my cell phone in my hand all night due to the fact that my body mass wouldn't allow the cell phone to remain. No, my shirt didn't have any pockets either.

Speaking of body mass. I recently had an appointment with the specialist doctor that would determine the permanent impairment to my shoulder from the injury I experienced last May. The good doctor did analyze and project me to be 1% permanently impaired. Reckon I will have to live with the pain in the shoulder and the slap in the face description he alluded to in his summary, and I quote:

"I examined Mr. Chambers, a 56 year old white male who appears to be fully developed and well nourished...."

Fully developed AND well nourished?? What are you trying to say doc...just spit it out. Geeze.

After finding our seats in Section 154, Row 6, Seats 19-20-21-22 and finishing watching the visiting team take batting practice, which is always fun since it's almost as good as watching the home run derby prior to the All-Star games, we knew it was going to be a good night.

Section 154 is a pretty good area to catch a fly ball during batting practice we soon found out.

Weather was perfect in Houston last Friday. They began to open the roof in preparation of the evening's game which always is followed by Friday Night fireworks, especially if it's Friday and weather permits.

Incidentally, lots of folks from other areas of the stadium, found their way to Section 154 after the game to get the good seats that were emptied for the fireworks.

But now I must tell you about the guy behind us.

The guy in Section 154, Row 7, Seat 24.

The aisle seat...with a microphone.

Do you have a stereo system in your car or truck that adjusts automatically with the road noise as you drive? Then you will understand this part of the story.

This individual proceeded to drown out all the other noises of the game within a radius of about 42.5 feet. Literally, the couple of big guys sitting in front of us, reacted to the sound of his voice.

Now it may have been the fact that in order to talk to his buddy next to him, he had his sound projection orifice or pie hole...pointed in our general direction.

Which is probably a good thing, because if he was looking the other direction, I am certain the Astros pitching staff would of had the guy removed due to the obnoxious level of sound emitting from this guy. The Astros bullpen was just a few feet away and I am sure the echo of his voice would of been deafening like yelling into a canyon or towards a mountain range...had he been facing that direction.

He was obviously a fan of the game. Everyone around us knew that he was involved in a fantasy baseball league and had been for years and in essence kept the same group of 'team owners' in their group to keep it interesting and most of the group was from his work and only a few from outside of work and that he without sounding like a know it all had won at LEAST 60% or 65% of all his games which is the best by far to date....

Then he started talking about the NFL draft that was happening this weekend and how all the players and teams were going to benefit from the choices while in between the short gasps of oxygen he needed to continue his self proclaimed position of color analyst he was giving a play by play of what was happening on the field of the game we were all trying to watch.

Man oh man what I would give for the mute button...

It was almost comical listening to this guy talk and pound his chest in sharing his knowledge of the game while expounding on the strengths and weaknesses of each player.

I was thinking of getting him some popcorn to see if he could eat and talk at the same time, but then it wouldn't have been fair to the lady that was sitting right in front of him and his sound booth. To have the smaller particles of uneaten popcorn spewing into her hair and her adult beverage as he would have surely choked on with the speed of singular conversing that was taking place.

But he did have the matching seat.

Row 7 Seat 24. He must of thought it meant being able to talk 24 / 7 about sports in general.

Fortunate for us and the rest of the peanut gallery, he and his buddy left to go somewhere else. They were gone for at least 2 or 3 innings.

Totally pleasant it was. Then they returned. With a vengeance.

Russ was sensing my ire and asked to go get something to eat around the 7th inning stretch. Gladly my boy, gladly. Let us walk until we find the finest personal pizza we can discover at the ballpark and we did.

Upon our return, the sound machine was gone and hoping against hope, never to return. We re-captured our seats and watched the end of the game.

Pirates 3
Astros 4

The Friday night fireworks show was worth the price of admission.

Even with the talk show we experienced, we Americans still are able to enjoy the freedom of speech. I just need to have access to the mute button every once in a while.

Thanks to my brother-in-law for the tickets and the wonderful seats. It was a night to remember.

A Quiet Passing

2010-04-20T10:09:00.008-05:00

A quick check of the folks that frequent my blog...IIWII ( It Is What It Is) always amazes me of the fact that our world seems to be getting smaller as we become closer through technology. The world events can and do effect everyone of us as humans.

Take the volcano in Iceland. It has touched lives from probably every continent on the face of the earth. A gentle reminder that we are simply guests here on this earth and the Creator, GOD Almighty will and can cause us to have an opportunity to examine our emotions and priorities.

It ain't all about us any way....is it?

Just an update to my list of IIWII blog visitors for your casual reading. Some of you are becoming regular readers...OR you're bored to tears and have no life....and I welcome you and your comments anytime. Drum roll please.......(make the drum sound in your head now)

Netherlands, Amersfoort Utrecht
Netherlands, Ten Boer Groningen
Russian Federation, Moscow Moscow City
Paris, France
Worcester, Worcestershire UK

Mountain View, California
Brattleboro, Vermont
Tyler, Texas
Flower Mound, Texas
Flushing, New York

There are others, but I won't completely bore you out of your skull. Actually, I find the visits from the Netherlands a connection to my story today. A small town that sits just south of my hometown of Beaumont, TX is a settlement by the Dutch. It has great heritage to the Netherlands and even boasts of its own windmill in their downtown area. The town, it's called Nederland. (with a long EE sound at the front end)

The chemical plant I have been employed at for over 20 years is closing the doors. Or to put it in corporate terms..."we have decided to exit the business." I give to you my sentiments entitled:

A Quiet Passing

I would wager a guess that most of the residents that pass by the numerous area industrial sites have no clue as to what is actually being produced inside the fences. Oh sure, the refineries make the fuels and lubricants that touch our lives, but what about those smaller facilities that are hidden by a stand of Chinese tallow trees and the entrances marked by overhead signage that eventually goes unnoticed.

There's one chemical plant that takes several different types of solution, solvents, and a base polyethylene to make a product that has touched virtually everyone that ventures by.
As a matter of fact, this single unit has been the primary site that supplied the entire world and has been safely located inside the same set of fences for over 52 years. The product is called HYPALON®.

The DuPont unit between Beaumont and Nederland has quietly been making great strides in the elastomers industry for years and for your information, the product has probably touched every one's life that is reading this. Oh really, you say. Let's do a quick checklist of a few items. Automotive belts, hoses, spark plug wiring insulation. Today's popular athletic style footwear finds our product being used in the adhesives. Inflatable boats, roofing, water treatment facility holding pond liners, snow shoe bindings, and fishing rod grips.

Have I named an application that touched your life? Surprised? Well that's okay too. Just so you will know our corporate management has made the decision to 'exit' the business and production has now ceased and the last bag of product has been boxed. Yes, another local business is quietly passing by and I wanted you to know that we were actually here.

Thanks neighbor, for allowing us to use the small two block area inside the DuPont Beaumont Works Industrial Park.

It's been a good run.

Over the history of HYPALON®, this small unit has produced well over 1.9 Billion pounds of product. It began in 1957 at the flagship facility in Beaumont, Texas. The very name of HYPALON® rings of quality and characteristics as a benchmark for the competition. HYPALON® has proven over time to resist the effects of ozone, heat, chemicals, and also its unique ability to withstand the elements of weather to maintain its coloring.

It is my humble and personal opinion, that the product is still viable and useful in our world, but other factors obviously figured in to the decision of DuPont to simply...exit the business.

Over the tenure of HYPALON®, the team dedicated to operations peaked at 160 employees. Today, just on the edge of extinction, that number stands at 81. Some whose careers will cease with the 'exit' of HYPALON® while others will continue in new directions.

The end is near

2010-04-19T14:24:00.004-05:00

Here it is almost the end of April and I have posted just one time this month. Sorry about that, I have been a bit busy...working every day since before Easter...yes, seven days a week. Either days or nights, the whole month has run together.

I only worked 4 hours today and start nights tomorrow. It's really a wild ride out at work. Today actually marks the last day of production and then the product will be bagged and boxed for some customer across the globe.

More than fifty-two years of a run for this little unit near my hometown of Beaumont, and I will have close to 21 years with them by the time we turn the lights out later this year. Maybe in tomorrow's post I will tell you about the little article(s) I penned for the end of the run my management asked me to write.

One thing that keeps passing through my head is the last time I badge out of work, enter into and complete the final rotation of the turnstile leaving work...not sure how that may feel to me. We have been knowing that the 'end' was coming since May 7th, 2009...and here it is almost a year later, and we are still kicking and breathing.

First it was the end of June...no, better make that September...oops, we still have customers that need product. Absolutely and no way in hell will anyone be here past the end of 2009...

HELLO..??!

It's April, 2010...who the heck is in charge here anyway? Talk about having your emotions jerked around like a rubber ball attached to a paddle. Geeze Louise.

Stay tuned, I will tell you a bit more about the wonderful little product that existed and provided for most everyone reading this post...yep... everyone.

....you're coming back again ....yeah...thought so.

If I could ...

2010-04-01T13:21:00.015-05:00

I never know where my next idea for a posting is likely to come from. This one is from a comment I added to a column I read regularly on a bass fishing web page I frequent.

Ken Duke, Senior Editor with B.A.S.S. posed the simple question to one of the many audio-video technicians working for B.A.S.S. while having lunch one day.

If you could watch any sporting event in history, what would it be? The technician responded with the first Super Bowl between Green Bay and Kansas City. I guess the fact that the individual was/is a die hard Packers fan may have swayed his decision.

One of the few times, Ken was caught off guard as he was asked the same question in conversation.

Being the avid bass fisherman that Ken is, he kept his selection to a top 3, with the number 1 slot going to the day that George Perry caught the world record bass in Georgia. A record that has stood for better than 77 years since Mr.Perry boated the 22 pound 4 ounce bass in June of 1932.

As I scanned my memory of an event in history and keeping to the lines of my favorite past time of bass fishing, I stumbled upon a slightly different event.

Not one of actual fishing, but the beginning of a historical landmark.

Sam Rayburn Dam & Reservoir.

Or as I like to refer to it as simply, Big Sam.

Lake Sam Rayburn is the largest man-made lake that is situated completely inside the boundaries of the great State of Texas. Named after the political giant known through his tenure as Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives, Samuel T. Rayburn.

My dad moved us to Jasper, TX in the early part of 1965 as I was finishing 5th grade. Little did I know of the event taking place a few short miles northwest of Jasper and the role it would play in the shaping of my life.

Going back to the main topic of this article, I would have loved to seen and document the Angelina River creeping along, leaving its banks and laying claim to the surrounding rural area. Timberland, hay fields, roadbeds, creeks, and homesteads to name a few. To visualize the humps and drop offs the flooding would produce along the miles of shoreline.

There are several places around Big Sam that anglers refer to as landmarks. One that comes to mind is a set of 40 plus year old concrete steps that led up to and inside an old country church. We call this place simply, 'church steps', and depending upon the lake level at the time of any given day, will it be determined if Big Sam will let you see the actual steps of long ago.

I can only imagine the white clap board building, standing on the top of the rising knoll as the faithful members made their way to congregate and celebrate their Easter Sunday sunrise services of so many years ago, because today, the sunrise from this point looking east...is just fabulous. From the front of the church the landscape was a rolling valley down to the river and up to the now far side of the lake itself.

The actual 'deliberate impoundment' of water began in March, 1965 and initially reached the full pool level sometime the next year in 1966.

Big Sam has a mystical draw on me still today. The sights and sounds are truly nature at its finest.

I have seen deer playing near the waters edge. Caught glimpses of otters playing along the shallow water near their home. Photographed alligators sunning themselves on a hump of dry ground in the secluded backwaters of coves.

Watching our National Bird stand watch over his feeding ground. The bald eagle is a treasure in itself. Strong and unmatched in beauty. Majestic and proud. An American symbol of liberty and freedom.

Being able to have and enjoy the freedom of catching the early morning sunrise over the pines as the sun's rays stretch to reach the smooth as glass lake surface, as you clear the end of your cove to turn your boat towards your favorite morning fishing hole.

An osprey dives to take his breakfast from the lake.

The fishing has begun, and I think back to the morning in 1965 that my brother and I drove along the unpaved surface of the earthen levee that runs over 17,000 feet along the south end of the lake...looking out over what level of water there was to see. Not quite knowing the effect the lake would have on me and how life would bring me back to Big Sam.

Yeah, that would of been something to see, don't you think?

Murphy was right

2010-03-27T09:00:00.018-05:00

It's been a long seven months since my surgery.

Last Monday was the day of release without any restrictions. Back to full duty at work and play.

Dr. Shoulder Fixer Upper did a fantastic job doing what it is that he does so easily and using those big words while describing the procedure makes it even more profound. Especially since it was MY shoulder and MY bicep tendon that was being re-attached.

Then somewhere along the line, I met up with Murphy.

Everyone has met Murphy at least once or twice in their lives. Some possibly more than others. For me, it's been a lifelong relationship. We are old friends.

Changing gears. Aluminum. The lightweight alloy that touches every one's life in some form. Be it aluminum foil, aluminum cans with adult beverages, aircraft aluminum for the planes we fly in, or even aluminum conduit from the electrical industry from which I consider myself to be reasonably knowledgeable of.

The biggest and simplest trick with working with aluminum products that make contact with other aluminum pieces is simply... lubrication.

You learn this real quick when you run aluminum conduit in the electrical trade.

The ten foot lengths of conduit screw together to make a raceway for wiring which runs from the power source to the field device (night light) so you can turn it on when you're scared at night because your spousal unit is at the lake fishing for the weekend.

Are you following me here? Even the smallest devices made from aluminum need to be kept oiled up while in storage to eliminate end of service of such devices from the galling effect.

Case in point: spare boat plug

Greatest invention known to mankind: WD-40 spray lubricant.

And from what I have learned about WD-40...there were 39 attempts at the right combination and the 40th one worked best....thus the name. Cannot tell you what he WD stands for though.

Now mind you after a long lay off from any fishing, all your gear needs some type of attention. Re-spool your reels with fresh line, charge the boat batteries, run the big outboard with water hose attached in the drive-way (so you don't over heat the big motor) to see if it will even crank, gather all the new lures you got for Christmas, buy your license, check the weather a week ahead of desired day of choice, take vacation if necessary to coincide with the son's spring break, and promise the wife you want let the boy fall out of the boat while running at break neck speeds across the lake to your favorite spot while the sun is just beginning to make a crack at becoming a picture perfect day of a fishing sunrise of a dawn.

We saw the beginning of the sunrise from the parking lot of the boat launch.

The morning couldn't have started any better. Left on time, traffic was minimal, and unknowingly, we picked up an extra passenger when we stopped to get ice.

Say hello to Murphy. He rode along real quiet like with us to Caney Creek Park last Wednesday morning. Never knew he was there until the pre-launch check list was pressed into service.

Case in point: boat plug was found to be 'faulty'...leave it at that. Go to little storage box where the 'spare' is kept. Attempt to install in boat. Note to reader and refer to word.....attempt.

Spare boat plug is/was a model that is manufactured from aluminum. No lubrication and just sitting it the storage box allowed the surfaces to become 'one' with each other.

I am now holding 2 boat plugs that are worthless. Not 30 yards from the water. Almost two hours of driving, after 7 months of anticipation, and no boat plug.

Head to nearest town....

Thinking to myself on the way..how much are you willing to pay for another boat plug. The amount of $20 came and went without a lot of discussion. Amazingly enough, the first store we came to in little Zavalla, Texas had two or three plugs on the shelf...and for less than $4 bucks, we were headed back to Caney Creek Park on Sam Rayburn.

Now....

Picture this, boat on trailer, trailer on boat ramp, surrounded by water, and I do not hear any sound of the big outboard running. Get out and ask my son what the heck is going on?

In his attempt to start the outboard, the 'kill' switch had been activated and the motor will not run under any circumstances with this switch in the OFF position. What it will allow you to do is run the battery down and flood the motor with fuel...creating a lot of smoke upon final internal combustion.

Had to jump start the outboard motor battery from the trolling motor battery to get the outboard cranked to get the boat off of the trailer.

Did I mention that I ripped my jeans while stepping from the truck tailgate to the boat...? Murphy!

Remember the sunrise on a picture perfect morning reference earlier...? Not sure what the sunrise actually looked like, since it came up while we were driving to town for a new boat plug.

Instead of the break neck speeds across the lake, we idled to allow the big motor battery to charge a bit, which incidentally didn't give us an ounce of trouble the rest of the day.

Hey Murphy, where's your life jacket?

Somewhere around noon thirty, the trolling motor battery gave it up. High speed on the trolling motor was like low speed. The two real life occupants of the boat made a corporate decision to leave and head back home. Murphy didn't get a vote.

No fish in the boat. Not one stinking battle. No lost lures, only Russ got a couple of 'swirls' at his top water offering.

2010 Status: Fish - 1 / Team Chambers - 0

Murphy was sitting back there on the motor cowling just a laughing away at us. You remember Murphy now right? He's the one most noted as the law of the world...at least in my world.

I now have a new compliment of boat batteries. Sorry Russ, looks like your college fund will take the hit for these and the next time we are at Academy, we will most likely pick up a couple more boat plugs and some WD-40 in the small handy dandy storage box size.

Murphy's Law. If it can go wrong, it probably will.

Murphy was right.

Because I Said So

2010-03-09T11:38:00.006-06:00

NO! Not today.

Remember hearing that answer from your mom or dad when you were a kid?

The answer could have resulted from a quickly mounted onslaught of reasons as to why you couldn't live without the new yo-yo, the latest style of sneakers, the new release of your favorite song on 45 rpm record single, or that fixed blade hunting knife on display at the hardware store. But no matter the excuse you presented as to the need for the item which was just a waste of hard earned money in your parents eyes, the answer remained a resounding no.

NO. Not today. Well, when then?

These moments in our upbringing could be considered as character building blocks. Couldn't tell me then, that I would learn from the situation and grow to a better understanding of not getting something on a whim.

This is the general idea and feeling I get when I hear about the special interest groups wanting to ban my recreational fishing.

No. Not today.

Who are you to take away a freedom that every American can enjoy today, simply because you and a few friends think it is hurting the fish when you hook one. There are lots of causes in the world other than the one you choose to attack, assaulting me and millions of other American citizens, who love the fact that we can go fishing whenever we want to.

So you ask...just how bad can it be? You're not a weekend angler you say. Let's look at it this way. Someone out of nowhere decides to try and ban your interest for no better reason other than it just doesn't make sense to them.

Favorite hobbies will now demand purchasing a state license. Sports will require monthly dues being paid to a national organization linked to the environment.

Making quilts, collecting salt & pepper shakers, stamps, rare coins, glass insulators from electrical power lines, or sewing thimbles to name a few will be outlawed.

Reasons...quilts require goose down. Geese are protected now. The other items could be suspect for containing lead.

Do you watch NASCAR racing, baseball, soccer, golf, football. In order to watch these on the weekends or Monday nights, you must go to the local outlet and purchase a one time use special chip to allow the signal to pass thru to your television or satellite.

We have freedoms people. Our veterans have fought for the very freedom of speech I enjoy while you read this. Freedoms many citizens of this world do not even get to experience. To walk across their cities and towns without the fear of car bombs. To cross state lines without check points and to return to our homes at night.

The special interest groups are out there, walking to and fro among us, looking for the next objective, and their next choice just might affect you and your interests. You will have to make a stand for yourself and your friends and tell them...

No. Not today.

Stop the Nonsense

2010-03-08T11:01:00.008-06:00

It has come to my attention that some basic freedoms that not only I, but many of you also have...are under attack.

Your God given rights are being threatened.

God given that is, providing that you believe as I do, that the Holy Bible is the sacred Word of God and is to be used as our instruction book for life. And most of my family and friends are members of that congregation...Bible believers.

There is a movement taking place in this great nation that just absolutely astounds me and the fact that people will use their position to further the beliefs of a few, no matter how slanted it may seem or how many it will effect.

I know, you're thinking what is this old country boy rambling on about now. Let's cut to the chase okay?

Animal rights activists.

Not you few tree huggers out there, just the animal rights activists.

Let me clarify that I do not condone animal cruelty. No way, no how, that is just wrong. As a matter of fact, one of our dogs came from the local Humane Society Shelter and I appreciate what job those folks do to in assisting in the care and protection for dogs, cats, horses, and any other domesticated animal we humans decide to try and care for.

However, when it gets to the point that a group of celebrities, tells me that my recreational angling is causing pain and suffering to the fish I manage to catch, is wrong and should be banned; I have to draw the line.

Stop the nonsense. Your ideas give me a head ache...not to mention a few other aches in some well defined areas.

Are you listening to what you are saying? Do you fully understand the effect a 'ban' like this would have on our economy, not to mention the number of jobs alone that are supported by the fishing industry?

Believe it or not, our right to fish was granted to mankind way back. Way, way back. Well before either one of us had the opportunity to participate...and it's documented as well.

As a matter of fact, He had it recorded by Moses in the first chapter of His book...you've heard of His book haven't you...the Holy Bible..and just in case you don't have one handy, here are a couple of the verses I refer to:

Genesis 1:26 Then God said, "Let Us make man in Our image, according to Our likeness; and let them rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky and over the cattle and over all the earth, and every creeping thing that creeps on the earth."

Genesis 1:28 And God blessed them; and God said to them, "Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth, and subdue it; and rule over the fish of the sea and over the birds of the sky, and over every living thing that moves on the earth."

Now these verses are from the New American Standard version. My research shows a different wording He used in the original King James Version...and it is as follows:

Genesis 1:26 And God said , Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over the cattle, and over all the earth, and over every creeping thing that creepeth upon the earth.

Genesis 1:28 And God blessed them, and God said unto them, Be fruitful , and multiply , and replenish the earth, and subdue it : and have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.

Isn't it obvious that our Creator has it all under control? Who are we to question His authority and His decision to allow ourselves the right to provide for our family with the food He has provided for us from day 'SIX' of His creation.

See, I told you this went way, way back. Day 'SIX' mind you. So stop the nonsense and let's just get along okay? Besides, when was the last time you visited one of your anti-fishing web pages? Did you realize the google ads on there were all slanted towards fishing?

Yes, you read correctly. Go ahead and go to Peta or google up anti fishing, click on their websites and have a laugh. Those little google ads that pop up along the site content or along the borders, will take you to fishing charter businesses, lake fishing lodges, or something along the line that SUPPORTS the fishing industry

As for me, I will support the likes of recreational angling by going to the lake and spending my money on gas, lures, licenses, food, fish cleaning supplies, sun screen, freezer bags, and ice. Oh and I plan on teaching all of this to my son and each and every grand kid too.

Met my Dad through a friend...

2010-03-01T19:39:00.007-06:00

While sitting and reading my backlog of emails, I experienced a sort of epiphany. No, it wasn't of the spiritual type, more like something that makes you say, "ah-ha".

Can't really explain why the subject entered into my mind and thought process, but it did and I figured I would capture it on paper before I got busy and lost it among the sloughed off brain cells lying scattered all around the floor of my cranium.

Just one of those times when you remember something without trying or being prompted to fire up a search engine to search the stored memory sticks of your past.

Strange to say the least.

But there I was and suddenly I realized that there was a person, a co-worker actually from in my immediate circle of friends that reminded me of my dad. This particular friend I can claim as a GFFN...(good friend for now) until he probably sees this and realizes that he reminds me of my dad...but he honestly has a lot of the personality traits that parallel my father's.

Having not 'known' my dad as a friend, simply because I was always busy doing kid's stuff and staying out of sight, out of mind, and he was doing what dads do. Providing clothing, shelter, food, guidance, and a pretty fair meat cutter when it came time to cut up what ever it was that was on my plate that needed to be a smaller bite size for me.

My father was a kind and generous man almost to a fault. One of the strongest Christian men I was blessed to have watching over me. He taught the knuckle headed teenagers at our little Baptist church in the south end of Beaumont for years. Emmanuel Baptist Church on Terrell Street, just off of South 6Th Street, if memory serves me correct.

It was here at EBC that I made my decision when I was about 8 years old, to accept Christ as my Savior and began the journey as a child of God and the ever watchful eye of my dad.

Dad worked several different jobs to keep all the things a family needed coming in. A few of the jobs I remember him working as were a butcher, cookie route salesman, gas station owner, newspaper delivery (entire area in and around Woodville, Texas), not to mention with him being the oldest of his siblings, he began driving a truck for his dad, the Old Man Himself at Roy's Trucking Company in Alvin, Texas.

One of my older brothers went as far as to define Dad as meek. Not timid, just a non-confrontational individual that took care of his business the best way he knew how. With the skills that God had given him to handle the challenges of life that he faced, day in and day out.

Dad was loyal, compassionate, and a friend to all. Unless you messed up and crossed him at some time or another, then he would maneuver around you, avoiding having to deal with you and your spiteful ways.

These are some of the same traits that my friend at work has as well. He is loyal, one of the most compassionate men I have ever met, and a good friend to all. He often ends up being the butt of a joke, only to have a good laugh at himself, along with all the others that may have been in on it from the beginning. He has had his share of knocks and punches that life throws at us, with more landing solidly, like on an opponent of the great Sugar Ray Leonard, the boxer. Any yet, he maintains an even keel so to speak and his ship is usually upright.

Reckon it's true about nice guys finishing last, but isn't 'finishing', a big part of the race of life as we know it? Having to make decisions with nothing but the current information in front of you and with your personal gut feelings you have grown to trust.

Isn't remembering the fact that an individual was in the race at all, something to revel in and celebrate when you recall the adventure? Now don't go thinking the race is over. It is far from being over. This leg of the relay race is currently rounding turn number 3 and heading towards the finish line. There are lots more races to be run, and my GFFN will be in the race of his choice, shoulder to shoulder with his buddies, awaiting the sound of the starter's pistol.

I suppose what I am trying to get across here is this.

I just realized that this good friend of mine portrays the same traits and personality of my dad. A side of my dad that I never got to know while growing up or at least took time to notice and recognized as a friend.

Dad's can be friends too, right?

In fact, if my dad was anything like my friend is, and you have opted not to claim him as a friend, you're totally missing out. And to think that God allowed me to have a chance at recognizing both of their friendly characters.

Personally, I thank God for friends like him every day and the blessings they bring into my stumbles on and along life's speed bumps and S-turns.

Cost of Free Speech

2010-02-23T11:05:00.007-06:00

Like most people, there are some topics I am more passionate about than others.

Discussions around the lunch table at work will cover politics, religion, golf, fishing, weather, marriage, kids and grand kids, and immediate news stories. Sounds a little familiar doesn't it?

I suppose that the list above could be a general list of topics at most any workplace, but what is it that makes an individual so driven as to the relentless discussion of 'their' thoughts and 'their' beliefs as the "only" right way for the general populace to adhere to?

The fact that the individual has pored over documentation and studied the writings and testaments of a few other 'like' thinkers would / could be a reason for their present day position.

Does it really make it right? Not if you choose to disagree.

Do you stand up for your beliefs and confront the issue of the minute...or do you just listen and realize that the situation is bigger than the both of you and basically there is nothing you can do about it.

I have just finished reading a book I received for my birthday and I realized that towards the end of the book, feelings I hold near and dear to me had surfaced once again. True stories will do that to me, especially when the subject matter is so 'in your face' with today's media.

How do you feel about the race that lives just below the surface of politics and the ultimate election day for the candidates? What race am I speaking of?

The media race to be first. The first news network to report the winner, no... make that, the projected winner of the selected political race.

Who actually cares if one network lists the winner before another network does? How many channels can you watch at one time during an election coverage? Can the outcome be changed by projecting blue or red states? Eventually the votes will be counted and the winner announced and sworn into office. Period.

The media can drive public opinion in any direction the network chooses to go.

The book I alluded to earlier was a testament to just that. The fear of the media back home would crucify the team members of their actions to protect themselves and the mission; IF they chose to eliminate the immediate threat of being discovered.

In the end, three members of the four man Navy SEAL team were killed in action due to their decision.

The option to not eliminate the threat of the Afghan goat herders that had stumbled onto their position, would lead to the largest loss of life in Navy SEAL history.

Simply stated, the rules of engagement set down by our politicians and the fear of what a media blitz would do to their military careers, the option cost American military lives.

In my humble opinion, the American people have forgotten the feelings we all felt on September 11, 2001. That Tuesday morning when the innocent killings of friends and family took place in front of us, changed our way of thinking for only a short time. All in the name of religious beliefs so very different than the beliefs this great nation was founded on.

We must not forget our history. We must support our military and let them do what they are trained to do. The rules of engagement today, shadows the history of engagement known to our veterans of Viet Nam.

Get the book. Read the book. Then let me hear from you.

"Lone Survivor" by Marcus Luttrell. It's a #1 National Bestseller.

It Is What It Is.

Don't pay the ransom...

2010-02-21T21:09:00.010-06:00

Controlled chaos.

That's the best description I can give you with any clarity at all concerning the past month of my life.

So just in case you were putting together a ransom for my release, never mind, I have escaped. Save the money for future needs or give it to the Red Cross.

My neighbors are probably wondering just what the heck is going on with my schedule. Seems the powers that be have decided to put all of the maintenance personnel on a rotating 12-hour shift to assist our production folks with minimum down time. And the best way to do that is put everyone on shift.

I would like to go on record and say....I pretty much hate the night shift.

With a passion. Hate it.

Cannot sleep during the day. Sunlight equates with being up and around, doing things that require natural illumination that comes from the sun.

Sleeping ain't one of the things I do naturally during broad daylight.

The saving grace with the shift assignment is this. It's temporary since the business is soon to cease operations and become a parking lot for no one to use.

Bittersweet? In a way. I have now celebrated 20 years with the chemical industry giant and will move along down the road to the next assignment. Not sure exactly what it might be, I am leaving that selection to the process that supersedes all understanding.

I was blessed with the opportunity of a 2-week call through my local union hall referral system a little over twenty four years ago which developed into a permanent hiring situation that carried me to the celebration just last Friday. February 19, 2010. The Good Lord guided me down the path and had me where I needed to be to get the job then, and I reckon He can do it again. The least I can do is put it all in His hands again...cause I will just mess it up if I try and help.

Twenty four years I have been driving the 13 mile distance. From my driveway to the plant site. Seen lots of knuckleheads who drive way worse than others. Saw one guy reading his newspaper while driving one morning. He had the paper folded just right and laying on the steering wheel with the dome light just a shining away for him. Stayed in front of him for the duration of the trip.

Not sure when the last day will be for me and my little chemical plant. We haven't been told exactly other than the final day of production is slated for March 31st, this year. But there is still the task to clear up and de-energize the unit for demolition. No one currently working with us has ever...EVER been associated with an adventure like this, so the learning curve is just that, to be learned.

You may wonder what it is that we make out there behind the chain link fence...and then you might not care. I figure if you have read this far, there's a chance you probably are a little bit teensy weensy interested. Am I right?

You ever wore sneakers? That brand that has a 'swish' on the side? Our product went into the soles of those shoes. How about snowshoes? The bindings on your snowshoes is made from our special blend.

Spark plug wires on your car or truck...got the insulation mixed up with our stuff. Hoses and belts on your vehicles are blended with our little touch of magic. Roofing materials. That stuff that keeps your head dry when it rains, that's our stuff.

The tourist center at the Space Center near Houston, Texas...has a roof made from our product. It really is a pretty versatile combination of stuff...and it's only been around for about 52 years.

But the time has come for our company to 'exit' the business and cease operations. Putting about 80 some odd folks out of work. Actually, some of the people are a bit more 'odd' than others, but I won't go there just now. I still have to work with some of 'them'.

Like always, I thank you folks for stopping by. Would love to hear what you think about my rants and ravings, or even how you found this spot in the first place. Take care and may the Good Lord take a liking to you.

Just Wondering

2010-01-30T15:18:00.004-06:00

Trying to keep it interesting in here with what ever I can come up with to talk about, sometimes.. aw heck, most of the time makes me wonder what is it exactly that causes you faithful readers out there to keep coming back.

I sure appreciate all of you making the trip across the Internet, coming all the way to my house to check in on what's happening in my little corner of Texas and my life.

I just did a quick check to see where exactly it is that some of you folks call home or were positioned when you opted to type in all them letters to get yourself here.

For the record, I am honored that you paid me a visit. Like I have said before, this Internet connection is really amazing. Here I sit at my little ol computer station in the extra bedroom of our simple home in the Great State of Texas...pounding out whatever it is that comes to mind, and hope that someone comes along and takes the time to stop and take a look see.

There have been a couple of other posts where I have mentioned the locations of my loyal readers and this is going to be another one. So sit back and check out a few, not all by any means, some of the recent global connections that have had my rantings on their screen.

As for the several states area:

TEXAS: Austin, Beaumont, Chandler, Houston
LOUISIANA: Crawley
ALABAMA: Birmingham, Madison
MISSISSIPPI: Byram
ARIZONA: Oatman
NORTH CAROLINA: Charolette
VIRGINIA: Alexandria
CALIFORNIA: Mountain View
CONNECTICUT: Farmington

The most recent connections on an international level:

Moscow, Moscow City
Paris, France

Thanks for your time however short or long the duration was. If you stumbled across it by accident, I hope you stay awhile and check it out....but if you're in a hurry, get on down the Internet, but come back another time...if you so choose. Just remember...

It is what it is....

What's Next...

2010-01-28T13:43:00.003-06:00

Picking patterns for the interior design of our home falls directly on my wife. She has more taste and style than me and most of my friends all rolled up into one.

But some patterns are easier to pick out after you've been bashed with them a few times.

For instance this global company I still work for today...which probably should remain nameless for now, has always had a knack for letting out just enough information about corporate changes that will take place, whether it is welcomed or not.

One time it was decided about how the employees would be paid. No more weekly paychecks. It would be either monthly or bi-monthly, depending upon your level of importance.

No more weekly checks? You could look up the phrase...'living paycheck to paycheck' and see my picture pasted alongside the description.

But over time, we have adjusted to the twice a month payday. Not saying I like it anymore today than when it was announced a few years ago, but I do appreciate the paycheck.

Just recently, the announcement to close our facility that just so happens to be the only one in the world that makes 'our' specific type of product, was announced. Then the shutdown date was changed because it wasn't the right way to treat our customers. Regrouping and new decisions were optioned and a brand new timeline was presented.

We, the employees were asked to continue working at our assigned tasks and information would be shared as soon as it was available, regarding our employment.

This all started back around May 7, 2009.... it was a Thursday morning as I remember. The BIG announcement was thought to be possible shorter hours due to the economy. We couldn't have been further from the truth.

In the struggle to maintain the facility, the focus on producing the amount of product that our customers needed to make a transition to replacement began. As of today, the final production date has been decided that we will not...NOT run into the second quarter. At least that's the understanding as of today...Thursday, January 28, 2010.

To enforce the effort, our little crew of electricians has been placed on a rotating 12 hour shift to cover any emergency that may arise which could hinder the production of this unique blend of ingredients that touches just about all of our lives.

Snowshoe bindings, drinking water reservoirs, automotive components, soles of sneakers that cushion our feet, and not to mention the insulation for wire in the electrical industry.

The very mention of forcing our group onto shift coverage, surfaced just about two weeks ago. I knew when I heard the rumor, that it was inevitable....and today, I find myself just 2 hours out of bed from working a set of 12 hour nights, only to go back for my last night a little later today.

From working straight days for over 20 years to a rotating 12 hour shift, takes a bit of adjustment and not just for me, my entire family suffers.

Don't go thinking I don't appreciate my job, I truly do. It's really tough to remain focused on the tasks we are charged with and not wonder about the future. There are certain aspects of the process that we are not hearing about. We are expected to maintain the professional level of support, but in reality are the typical mushrooms in the basement. Kept in the dark and fed the approved daily amount of corporate BS to sustain.

Will we possibly run past the second quarter? No way, but then again, maybe, maybe not. The cost to extend the permits would be to much to bear...or bare. We were told that this shift work, would only go until the end of March...hopefully it's March 2010.

It is what it is...

Eight fingers typing...

2010-01-25T19:51:00.003-06:00

Thinking back to typing class in high school, there were maybe 3 guys in a classroom of at least 25 individuals of the female persuasion. For a sophomore in high school, this was a dream class until it became evident that the teacher really expected you to learn how to type without looking at your keyboard...sorry, there was no keyboard back then...not sure I remember what you call the area where all the keys were located on those new fangled 'lectric typewriters.

I am sure glad that I managed to conquer a good portion of the skill set needed to pass typing class. Much to my surprise, after I transferred from the old and now vacant South Park High School in Beaumont and got myself enrolled in Kountze High School, a small wide spot in the road just about 20 miles north of Beaumont, and in a Typing II class, all due to the fact there was a vacancy and I had already had one year of typing and was considered worthy.

My teacher in that typing class was Mrs. Faye Robertson. Between myself and one of my running buddies, we pretty much had the focus on us and what we were trying to pull off by taking up a couple of her typing stations. As I remember, I never got any faster than 30-33 words a minute.

Smokin'.....

Thanks Mrs. Robertson, for your kindness and your patience during my senior year at KHS.

The Class of 1972. The same year that we lost a fellow classmate, Ricky Johnson.

I think back to the emptiness I felt when Ricky didn't show up for first period class the next day. I still remember him begging me to swap seats with him so he could sit behind his heart-throb and varsity cheerleader, Lynn Elmer. I guess I looked and expected Ricky to show up most any day after the accident...probably for about a month or so.

Later on in my working career, I had the unexpected opportunity to work with Ricky's younger brother a short while. Funny how the world comes back around and messes with your mind. Throwing memories out at you from all angles.

That running buddy of mine from typing class, has basically fallen off the face of the earth. I reckon he will show up one day and surprise me.

B. I. Jordan. Known as Brill by many of his friends....me? I called him Biggun.

Hey Biggun...where you at nowadays? I'm still here in Beaumont, wondering just how the world you're doing. Ain't seen you in a coon's age....better make that 2 or 3 coons ages.

Anybody out there know the whereabouts of a one Brill Jordan, originally from Kountze, Texas, let me know. I will pay upwards of three or four American dollars.

Well, let me go for now... that's more rambling than I have done in a while..take care and keep your feet dry...until next time.....

it is what it is.

Losing track of time

2010-01-21T21:12:00.004-06:00

I suppose everyone of us has lost our concentration during the course of a day, while watching our favorite television program, or during those 'important' weekly business meetings.

With all the distractions that are available at any given moment during our daily lives, it comes as a welcome change the natural occurring incidents among co-workers and their offering to share their stories at the cost of personal humiliation.

The group of people that I work with are a constant source of material for me, most of which can be cleaned up and shared here with you.

Tommy is one of our more 'experienced' valve technicians and is our 'go-to' old timer for the occasional history lesson that involves the past 30 years of employees or the overall changes of the surrounding municipalities.

Having spent so many years working at the same chemical complex here in Southeast Texas, habits become second nature and becoming a morning person is easy to do with a steady job.

Tommy has shared on numerous occasions about his waking up before the alarm clock goes off, getting up, getting dressed thinking that he had over slept and tears around preparing to leave for work only to realize that he had been asleep for about 2 hours.

Just the other day...make that the other night, he woke up, dressed and left his house heading to the plant. Listening to the radio, the deejay gave the current time and temperature. Not believing the clock radio, he pulled his cell phone out for confirmation that in fact it was just after midnight.

He turned around and went back home and back to bed.

Just this past weekend, Tommy turned another year older. This birthday was a milestone for him as he was turning 70 years old. I have to tell you that Tommy is one of those active 70 year old individuals that still lead a very productive life.

One of our unique ways we celebrate our birthdays at work is by bringing something for the crew to enjoy during the day. Monday morning, Tommy arrived with one of those infamous Great American Cookies....and led off with a confession in front of the crew.

He had figured wrong and was not...had not turned 70. His wife had informed him the day before that he was in fact; only 69 years of age.

His argument was that he had been born a year before the attack on Pearl Harbor. Well almost a year, what's a few weeks right? December to January was closer to about 5 weeks short of exactly a year before the attack.

As a matter of fact, Tommy was born just 11 months before Pearl Harbor and had stated it so many times, he had himself believing that he was born in 1940. See what a difference a few weeks will make...it can actually take a year off of your life.

Happy 69th Birthday Tommy.

It just so happens, that my wedding anniversary falls on Tommy's birthday. Cindy and I celebrated 29 years of wedded bliss this past weekend.

For the record, I gave her the same card for the fourth straight year this year...and yes I bought a new card each year. Maybe I will tell you about that tradition in another posting.

I am a work in progress

2010-01-11T20:45:00.003-06:00

God's Redemptive Project

Your flourishing is never just about you. It is a "so that" kind of condition. God designed you to flourish "so that" you could be part of his redemptive project in ways that you otherwise could not. He wants you to flourish "so that" people can be encouraged, gardens can be planted, music can be written, sick people can be helped, or companies can thrive in ways they otherwise would not. When you fail to become the person God designed, all the rest of us miss out on the gift you were made to give.
Jesus once said that with God, all things are possible, and the great thing about life with God is that your next step is always possible. That step toward God is always waiting, no matter what you have done or how you have messed up your life. Jesus was hanging on a cross with a thief hanging next to him, and Jesus turned to him and said, "Today you will be with me in paradise."

I received this today and realized after reading it, I am a work in progress. Understanding this small portion of life, I have to agree with author Rick Warren when he explained in one of his books so clearly, even I got it.

The statement simply stated: It ain't all about you.

Boy howdy, ain't that the truth. Folks that think the universe revolves around them are in for a rude awakening one day. The short paragraph that started this posting is an excerpt from a book by John Ortberg, 'ME, The Me I Want to Be'.

All those casual encounters with people throughout your life, not to mention those that are still to happen even as early as tomorrow, were meant to be. You were destined to be a part of their life...OR maybe, bringing it down a notch and looking at it from right to left, that stranger you meet may just have been guided by our angels to intercept you along your path.

It could be their life is the cog in your gears to keep you going, "so that" you can grow and reach the level of importance that God has planned for you.

Just another slant on how small we really are in the grand scheme of things...but some day, you could mean the world to someone, the difference in how a person responds to a situation.

Thanks for stopping by.

They keep telling him no....

2010-01-09T18:26:00.004-06:00

They keep telling him no. I am sure that after spending over half of his life in the 'system', the answer is not a surprising one.

Javier is his name. His friends call him Javi.

The system is known as DCF and is governed by the State of Connecticut. DCF stands for the Department of Children and Families.

Javi is one child of many who long for a family to take him in. His Christmas wish of 2008 was simply:

"I'd like a family who likes fishing...pretty much any kind of fishing."

Another unique piece of the puzzle has Javi belonging to the Permanency Unit, which plainly states that these are the ones;

The kids who are not going home. Their parents have given them up. Period.

Javi is like any other 13 year old kid you could meet. He likes math, not so much on reading. Not a big video gamer and prefers to be outside. Loves the game of baseball and loves the Yankees. His favorite player is Derek Jeter. Oh, and he has a strong passion for fishing.

I am telling you about Javi because his situation tugs at my heart. The story is repeated more than we can imagine across our nation and someone out there just may take the time to read this and know of someone, some family out there that would be perfect for Javi.

I look at my own son who is now 14 years old and realize just how much some family, some couple out there is missing out on the blessing of having a void filled in their lives.

Don't just read what I have written here about Javi and his situation, do yourself a favor and go to the website where you can read about Javi and his being 'severed' from the world by his parents.

Please, take a few moments and go to donbaroneoutdoors.com and check out the story; Christmas for Javier.

It is our prayers and hope for Javi to find happiness in the near future but realize that we are but a few that care. The task is in no way unobtainable and know that sometimes, just getting the information out there...could possibly make a difference.

Thanks for stopping by and taking the time to check my blog out, because ... it is what it is.

Out with the old...

2009-12-30T10:17:00.006-06:00

Out with the old and in with the new.

There is some of the old that will be kept and will share space with the new.

This past year has been a journey in itself. Parts of which will bleed over into next year like a red sock in with your t-shirts and underwear.

Like most folks, I will make a resolution or two here in a couple of days, and forget about them in about a month. Me? I got no will power when it comes to keeping resolutions.

For 2010, let's say I will try and do better with any resolutions I may make.

Things that will bleed over:

* This blog of mine. I hope to improve my freelance writing skills.

* My current job will end in the next few months...future not quite known but have a couple of leads.

* Garage that needs cleaning....talk about bleed over, there's stuff in there from years ago.

* Go fishing. I have lures that have never seen the water. Will change their status.

* Get more exercise. I have a perfectly good neighborhood with paved streets and lighting that beckons me to try and wear it down. Here's to going for a walk.

* Try to eat out less. The convenience just ain't worth it.

* Support my writing buddies and buddy-ettes more through their efforts with comments and feedback.

* When I see someone that looks familiar or I might know and haven't talked to in a while, stop and say hello. By the way, this drives my wife up the wall...but it also offers material for the blog.

So let's say good bye to most of 2009 and welcome with open arms and minds the new year of 2010. A new decade to embrace. New friends out there to meet and old ones to grow older with. And if you continue to come back and visit this blog spot, I will do my best to give you something to talk about, even if it is just my meager life.

Here's wishing you a Happy and a Healthy New Year.

What's in a name?

2009-12-22T08:33:00.003-06:00

I know I am talking to a few of you out there that beat me to the experience of being a grandparent, but still, there is so much material to write about I just have to.

Once our granddaughter, ABBY arrived; all 8 pounds and 8 ounces of her almost 20 months ago, the topic of conversation concerning what she would call her grandparents surfaced.

Oh yeah, we all had our preferences and expectations, but never actually realized that we, our desires would never figure into the equation.

In our family there has been nieces and a nephew that had to discern between two grandfathers of the same name...Harry. That situation was diffused with them being called Little Grandpa Harry and Big Grandpa Harry. The kids worked it out themselves I guess. I may have to ask them who actually came up with it as they are now all grown.

When we venture out to my mother in laws home, to explain it to Abby, we just tell her we are going to "other grandma's..." and she is perfectly happy getting out and into the car for an adventure.

Deep down, you just hope your grandchild takes a liking to you for whatever the reason. The fact that my wife is keeping our granddaughter during the day while our daughter works, gives us the 'home field' advantage. Abby is training us as best she can and wrapping us around the smallest of pinkie fingers known to mankind.

Oh sure, our daughter had ideas as to what she thought ABBY should call the grandparents, but believe me you...that didn't quite work out. (is that one of them regional phrases??? believe me you..?? kind of like, 'fixin to'..?? fixin to eat, fixin to leave, fixin to start getting ready?)

Well, the idea was for Abby to call us, Grandma and Grandpa. In her mind and she is a quick study on the 'stuff' in her world; when she needs either one of us, she just calls out...

Na-Maw.. or Pee-Poe, depending on how big the need is.

To capture the effect of 'things' in her world today, we have the vacuum cleaner standing guard over the Christmas tree and making sure she doesn't venture too far into the ornaments that are proclaimed...'low hanging fruit' for her inspection.

She helps me push on the oak tree in the front yard. Something that is only understood between granddaughters and their grandpa. We have to keep it growing in one direction right?

I haven't bought her a fishing rod yet...YET I said, but it will not be too much longer. Getting her near the water without a U.S. Coast Guard certified rope tether to the nearest pine tree will likely be in the top ten list of precautions prior to a fishing trip...but that's another story.

In my mind's eye

2009-12-18T22:31:00.007-06:00

What was it that first caught your attention?

Was it something in the wind or actually the wings of an angel brushing the air around you?

It's right about now that you are able to focus on the booming reverberation of the distant words that find your ear.

You search the area near you, making a scan of the horizon knowing you will find the source of the words demanding your focus, but there is nothing.

The air is completely filled with familiar words. So many that you wonder how can it be that you are perfectly positioned to understand and comprehend each and every word.

It's surround sound in its prime, yet you are outdoors with no obvious generating source for the ever increasing din of this supernatural event.

Suddenly and without any introduction you recognize the message from days past, years of your youth, years involving your basic foundation.

"Our Father who art in Heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name."

There is something different about the prayer this time. It's not really a prayer, but more of a proclamation. An announcement to all within earshot of what has been forgotten.

"Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven."

A reminder of our teachings from days gone by. Basics that we opted not to keep in front of us.

"Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our debts, as we forgive our debtors."

Giving thanks for the blessings we have and for the blessings we are still to receive, and the protection from our enemies.

"And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Keeping our focus on what is real and not of the flesh that will only hinder our journey.

"For Thine is the Kingdom, and the Power, and the Glory, forever and ever. Amen and Amen."

As the quiet settles over our being, our existence, the realization becomes evident that we have just witnessed the obvious. Where we have turned away from our Creator, the actual creation has had to respond in our stead and cried out in our behalf.

"And she will bear a Son; and you shall call His name Jesus, for it is He who will save His people from their sins."

Remembering the Reason for the Season, giving thanks in all things.

Catching Up

2009-12-15T21:22:00.003-06:00

Gosh...it's been almost 2 weeks since I last posted. Reckon some of you may be wondering where the heck I have been or what's the deal.

Wish I had a good story to tell you other than it's been a wee bit hectic around the Chambers' household of late. To steal a line from Mel Brooks he had in one of his movies....

"Work work work work work..!"

I haven't had a full day off since the Friday after Thanksgiving. So this coming weekend is looking might enticing with it leading into the final two weeks of 2009 and me getting the final 16 days off before heading back to the grind.

The grind is simply writing procedures to turn a chemical plant into a parking lot.

Weird sort of stuff at work it is. Our corporate office made the decision back in May to shut our little production unit down....using the words to describe the move as... "exiting the business". And the catch phrase from our CEO who does a pretty good mimic of Katherine Hepburn, kept telling us that this over and over again.... "It is what it is..."

And yes, that is where I came up with the name for this blog...trying to be a straight-shooter with the way I see things leads me to say...it is what it is folks.

I talked recently about a good friend that is also a writer and has his own blog on a national web page...and it got me to thinking about these cyber world friendships we develop. Everything and everyone is so reachable and available now due to the amazing Internet.

Remember way back when you had a pen-pal and you actually wrote letters to each other and having to wait on the U.S. Snail Mail for your correspondence? This caused me to think about those folks that were into HAM radios. Having friends all over the world and tethered together by the microphone of your radio set.

Today, its the keyboard and flat screen monitor that allows us to maintain the global friendships we take for granted. Just let the system get hung up with a virus or lose your hard drive and you are just about helpless. Helpless to the point where you have to dial your cell phone if want to talk ear to ear to your friends.

My friend lives in Virginia. We hope one day to meet up and share some time on the water chasing the elusive little green fish we have come to love and hate at the same time. The little green slimy fish that thousands of anglers chase with a fevered intensity only to be angered to the maximum effect by a cold blooded creature that is unknowingly adept to creating such turmoil and chaos in a human beings world.

Pick any of the species of the bass. Largemouth, smallmouth, or the spotted bass. Each one can deliver you a boat load of grief on any given day, which is usually the outcome for most of us. But we continue on with our quest and we even write about our ordeal with the wily bass.

Simply stated and often heard around these parts, it's something in the water. Yes, I believe it is at least that....it is something in the water and it is what it is.

Let's try and get together a little more in the future okay? You folks take care now and have yourself a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and may the Good Lord take a liking to you.

Unexpected Trouble

2009-12-02T22:09:00.008-06:00

A good friend of mine writes for a national magazine's website.

Big surprise here, it's a fishing web page. Even more of a surprise, it's a bass fishing web page. Imagine that...me having a friend....a writing friend at that.

Jaison has been writing his column for about 2 years now, and even though we have never met in person, we have talked on the phone, swapped comments back and forth, and even found some time to talk about bass fishing, and our writing.

The column Jaison shared this week was one of a close call. His chosen title was ... if I remember it correctly .... "Life Is Too Precious for Stupid".

My buddy lives in Virginia...one of the many states that experience actual seasons and all that comes with the different seasons. Cold weather that comes and sticks around for a while type of seasons.

Seems that Jaison and one of his fishing buddies hit the lake recently. Seeing as it was a cold day, all the precautions were taken to ward off the cold as best a person could and still be able to move around in the boat. The usual layering of clothing was the standard attire, topping off with a good parka over big overalls.

If you are a regular boater, you may see where I am headed with this...if not, just read on in the next paragraph.

Finding a desirable spot to fish, the big motor was stopped and Jaison found his way to the front deck of his boat, sitting on the pedestal seat to work the trolling motor. This all being pretty standard operating procedures among bass fishermen.

As the story goes, Jaison remembers reaching for something, but ends up looking up at the boat from the outside of the boat in the inside of the lake. The cold lake that is.

To answer your next question....No, Jaison had taken off the (his words) bulky life jacket when he sat down on the pedestal seat.

Efforts between Jaison and his buddy were fruitless in getting him back into the boat. The extra clothing was dragging him down. My guess is right about now, Jaison was at least 2 or 3 minutes from meeting our Creator face to face.

Through sheer refusal to quit the fight, a grip on the side of the boat was managed and his buddy got the motor cranked and idled towards the shore where Jaison finally was able to touch solid ground and make his way from the lake.

I haven't talked to Jaison other than a couple of emails where I relayed to him my concern for him and grateful that he survived the ordeal. Not making light of the situation, he did recall in his column about making a deal with God. Probably not much more than any one of us would have done had it been us in his shoes....let's make that...his water-soaked bib overalls and winter parka.

I did ask Jaison if he remembered to mark the coordinates of the 'hump' they were fishing, so he could go back another day to try again....but then, that's my jab at him for now.

Glad you're OK Jaison and thanks for sharing your story.

Folks, if you want to read his story in his words, go to BASSMASTER.com and look for Jaison's story under The Reel World.

http://sports.espn.go.com/outdoors/bassmaster/news/story?page=b_blog_annarino_2009

Humor Me

2009-12-02T21:15:00.005-06:00

It was just one of those opportune times where the guy on the other end of the phone had set himself up perfectly for one of my patented retorts...and feeling generous, I gave him just what I thought he deserved.

Coming home from my monthly appointment with my shoulder doctor, I got broad sided by a Texas sized hunger pang or pain....your preference here, kind of like poe-tay-toe or puh-tah-toe...but back to being hungry and wanting a pizza with everything on it...and the story unfolded like this.

Found the number for this particular pizza shop who in my honest opinion makes the best pizza this side of the Louisiana border here in Texas and dialed them up.

Ring. Ring.

PIZZA GUY: Hello, this is Dave and thank you for calling your favorite pizza making place. Would you like to try one of our special large all meat pizzas for the low low price of....

ME: No, not today thanks, what I want is one of your large with everything on it pizzas...

PIZZA GUY: OK sir, you gonna want that with jalapenos?

ME: No, no jalapenos...just everything else.

PIZZA GUY: What type of crust you want on your pizza? regular, thin, pan ......

ME: Regular...just make it regular please.

PIZZA GUY: Will you be wanting any dips, drinks, or bread sticks with your order today?

ME: No, just the large pizza with everything on it.

PIZZA GUY: OK sir, we have one large pizza with the works, regular crust and no extra dips, drinks, or bread sticks...will that complete your order?

ME: Yes, that's it.

PIZZA GUY: ...and how will you be paying for your order? Cash?

ME: No, I will paying with my debit card...

PIZZA GUY: .....and what type of card is it?

here it comes....now mind you this guy has a manner of speaking, his voice was so clear and concise..great enunciation, things were rolling right along, but when he asked me what type of card it was....my first response was simply...

ME: It's plastic..... (even my wife cringed on that reply......) oh you mean the type...Visa.

his silence pretty much let me know either or eye-ther, he didn't get the humor or wasn't in the mood for me and my hunger quenching quest of word play.

PIZZA GUY: Can I have the number please?

ME: No......., I will give it to you when I get there.

PIZZA GUY: ......sooo you're gonna pick this up?

Don't you think he would of asked .....Pick up or delivery.... way back when we first began this conversation about the type of pizza and the crust? He even had asked for my phone number and with all the caller-ID programs there are out there, he even knew who I was, where I lived, and probably the history of all the pizzas we had purchased in years past.....

I fully intended on apologizing to Dave when I got to the pizza place, but he was waist deep with another phone order when I got there with my plastic Visa debit card....

..trying to find a discount for the large pizza order that was coming in...the rolling of his eyes, the grip on the phone, and the body language told me to think again...after all he still had my large, regular crust pizza with everything on it well within his reach.........his humor-less, having to deal with public phone ordering, minimum pay, if you wanted a cheap pizza why don't you call the cheap pizza store....... reach.

Dave won that round today and I can only imagine the eye roll he gave me, when I laid the 'plastic' answer on him.....glad he wasn't the one making my pizza.

Can I Get Any Bonus Points?

2009-11-22T19:44:00.000-06:00

Yeah, I remember...way back when kids would come up with those thought provoking questions and the better part of an afternoon would be gone before you knew it.

And I would be willing to bet that most of you reading this will have at least one time, had the conversation when you were younger....and I bet also after hearing some of the other answers, you probably changed your first answer.

....if I was to die...I would come back as a ________.

I know I know, but remember, these are kids we're talking about and the realm of eternity doesn't fit into the afternoon...and the issue of reincarnation is at hand.

What would you come back as? If you could.

I always seem to pick some sort of bird. A hawk or an eagle. I wanted to be able to fly and just soar on the wind currents....not to mention the keen eyesight these critters have.

Well my son posed that question to me the other afternoon. I immediately went into the matter of fact mode and reminded him that we do not believe in reincarnation...and he quickly assured me that he understood, but didn't have another word for this time honored discussion among kids.

The conversation soon filled the cab of my truck with "what-ifs" and it started to get interesting.

How many times have you heard stories about someone dying and then contacting a loved one still here on this big old rock we call Earth?

Do you think only certain folks get this type of privilege?

Or is it a special grade of angel that takes the information down and gets the message to the left behind chosen earthling?

How come only certain people get to 'hear' from grandma or a brother after they have passed?

My grandfather had promised a watermelon just for the two of us when he got back from the hospital....I never got that promise filled and maybe that's why I don't care for any types of melons today.

What kind of signal would you want to have to prove that the message was Heaven sent?

Would it be a thought of something you had long forgot about? Maybe an old photograph and for the first time in years, you spot an item in the background you had never noticed before that prompted your quick trip down memory lane....an old friend on Facebook?

Are there bonus points in heaven?

I wouldn't think so....besides, why would you need any other bonuses...you're in heaven.

But a snowfall in August here in Southeast Texas would sure cause me to wonder....

Let me hear from you and any heavenly connections you want to share.....

Veterans Day - Thank You Veterans

2009-11-11T13:29:00.006-06:00

November 11, 2009.

Another Veterans Day to pay honor to our veterans.

If you are reading this in English, please take time to thank a veteran. We owe a world of thanks to our veterans for this privilege and the freedom to speak our mind.

There is a fine line being crossed today and many won't even recognize the transgression.

Well, it's not exactly an act of aggression or the breaking of any law or statute. It is simply a misunderstanding of a practice that has been handed down over the years.

What is this poor old country boy rambling on about now you ask? Reckon I am just a stickler for details....and like a t-shirt I often wear, it usually will get a decent discussion moving.

The t-shirt..nothing special...it just reads: 'I get enough exercise....just pushing my luck'.

The Internet is filled with the subject of today's holiday.

Veterans Day. To be celebrated every November 11th, on the Eleventh of November, no matter which day of the week it happens to be on....right here in the United States of America.

Other nations call it Remembrance Day and will include the fallen heroes of past wars.

Originally, Veterans Day here in America was designed to honor all our living veterans. Thus the name....Veterans Day.

We have somehow managed to merge a large chunk of Memorial Day into this day. If memory serves me correctly, Memorial Day is tucked away back at the start of summer, right there at the end of May. I think even the government got involved on this one and we are subject to celebrating Memorial Day on a rotating Monday...which gives many a three day weekend. (give me your comments on this down there where comments are asked for...OK?)

Honoring our veterans for their service to our nation. Answering the call to duty during times of war, standing in the gap defending our way of life here in America, and also being at the ready during times of peace.

Acknowledging all veterans who served honorably without regard to the price they were prepared to pay with their lives, for the blessings of being called an American.

I probably will step on some toes with this one, but if we already have a holiday remembering our fallen veterans back in the month of May, why do it twice in a year?

Enough already.

Veterans. I salute you and thank you for your service to our great nation. Thank you for your being the one that stood for me and my family, defending our way of life. Giving us the freedom of choosing where to live, what church to attend, the freedom to drive across our states at our own discretion, and the fact that here in America, we stand proud because of the uniforms you have worn or still wear today, support our Stars and Stripes here and around the world.

Thank you Veterans. Thank You.

If A Tree Falls....

2009-11-07T19:54:00.028-06:00

Think back about your very first paying job.

What do you remember about it? The low pay. The working conditions. The people you worked with.

There's a good chance your first boss is likely to be mixed in there somewhere.

I can see this man, but I cannot recall his name....maybe as this story comes out and I share it with you, I will remember his name, however... I do remember he had a daughter that was...well let's just say....she was easy to look at.

Seems like we were always finding an excuse to go by his house with some sort of problem to get some guidance on.....

Well since I can't wait around for you to answer the question, I will tell you about mine. So sit back and get comfortable for this short journey with me back to Jasper, Texas and my first job. Where I learned the ins and outs, the ups and downs, and the make you or break you mentality of being the paperboy.

There was about six or seven of us boys that managed to secure the residential routes in and around Jasper. The major portion of my route bordered two sides of the school property where the local junior high and high schools were located.

There was one street in particular; Olive Street, that had a vertical rise on it and it was 'THE' hill to challenge every kid with a bike....to see if they could make it to the top without jumping off and walking the bike to the top.......I beat it one time and one time only.

Getting back to the subject of this story, the Beaumont Enterprise and the Beaumont Journal were the obvious choices of local newspapers and to have these delivered to your home or business would require the human touch.

To assist in the delivery of the newspapers, someone came up with the idea to paint a series of letters on the road in front of each subscribers house that would indicate as to which paper to drop off. Seems simple enough right...?

Don't forget we are dealing with teenage boys, the weather, early morning hours, and the ever present customer that is innocent of any wrong doing other than expecting home delivery of their newspaper.

To get our supply of papers for our customers, we would meet at the local fast food establishment.
Now mind you at the time, we didn't have a clue as to what a fast food restaurant really was, but looking back, the Dixie Queen would have to be on the list.

I remember one morning the juke box was still turned on and one of the guys who will remain nameless, inserted a coin or two and we listened to the music while we folded our papers....mind you it was around 3:30 A.M., so I am certain the neighbors really appreciated us that morning.

Remember me telling you about the schools being in close proximity to my route? Did I happen to mention the rumor of the high school also being haunted along with the local movie theater?

Funny how information like that never comes to mind while you're across town and folding papers. But you just wait until you get on out on your route, tossing papers at the porches of your customers in the wee hours of the morning...a warm summer morning that just begs for a short break.

Using my new 1967 Honda Trail 90 motorcycle as my main mode of transportation for the deliveries, I pull up under a street light and remove my helmet for a well deserved breather. Sitting there thinking about almost being through with the morning run, my mind relaxes and I realize I am sitting about a full city block from ...........the haunted high school.

With all this eerie information spinning in my head, the next event of the morning could be classified as my encounter of the scariest kind. Fighting against the forces of evil that hide under the cover of darkness and invade young minds was more than I was ready for.

While finishing my short break, the next several minutes would etch upon my memory and quite possibly be the single reason my hair began to turn gray while I was still in junior high school.

I never realized that so many human senses, emotions, and reflexes could be called to order in such a short fashion. All due to the power of the mind...and I was absolutely certain that my very existence would soon be nothing more than a faint vapor on the streets of Jasper.

Beginning as quickly as it had ended, the shriek was as intense from its start to its finish. Precise and clear. There was no lead in, no warning, no sound of the tree that fell on the woman that morning as it she lay trapped and screamed a single time for her life.

The siren splitting the summer air, reaching my ears, causing the activation of self preservation to kick in.......or was that me on the kick start of my motorcycle...yeah must have been.

I would find out later that the murder I had only witnessed with my ears was in fact, a simple yet innocent chance meeting with nature but would certainly not be my last encounter with the common screech owl.

Oh yeah, due to the movement of several layers of brain cells, I have managed to recover the name of my boss from the Jasper paper route.

Here's to you Mr.Graham and the memory of tossing newspapers.

East Texas Back Roads

2009-11-01T20:30:00.004-06:00

Seems so long ago now.

That right of passage from two wheel transport up to the family car.

Gaining the trust of my parents to prove that I was responsible enough and worthy of learning to drive. To take the only mode of modern day transportation my parents owned and take it out on the open road.

The first new car my parents ever owned was a 1972 Mercury Comet. Up to that point, every car we called ours was at least a second or third hand used model.

Come to think about it, that '72 Comet was the only new car that ever graced a driveway where the Chambers' resided.

Most of my driving skills were learned on a paper route; during the darkness of early morning hours, running the back roads, city streets, and highways between the east Texas towns of Woodville and Jasper.

Mind you the cars I speak of rarely ever had an automatic transmission. I loved the shifting of gears and figuring out how 'not' to jerk the car around by dumping the clutch when shifting gears.

One of my favorite cars we came across was a 1958 Chevy. You remember the body style...the area just above the tail lights were horizontal fins. Kind of reminded me of a whales tail fin but sort of swollen.

It had four doors, was turquoise and white. A six-cylinder engine, with standard shift on the column. Originally owned my dad's brother, but driven mostly by my Aunt 'Tiny'. Can't remember what her given name was right now...but that's what we called her. She was a little bitty lady and loved doing stuff out of doors.

My aunt and uncle lived in Alvin, TX. Remember the story about my dad growing up in Alvin...well his brother kept his family there until they moved to the Texas hill country out around Junction, TX., but that's another story.

By living in Alvin, the commute to Galveston for my aunt to spend a day of fishing and crabbing was easily accomplished.

There's no telling how many trips she had under her belt, but I can tell you this...every time it rained, the trunk would take on a bit of water due to the rust holes around the back window...(standard options of the early Chevrolet models) ....and the mix of fresh rainwater with the remnants of sand, crabs, and saltwater would allow an aroma familiar only to the gulf coast would emanate out and find the nearest and untested set of nasal orifices, resulting in the usual response from the unsuspecting victim...

"What the heck is that smell.....?"

It got better....or weaker with time and more frequent rainfall.

Going back to the paper route my parents were responsible for, at one time we had the entire distributorship of the Beaumont Enterprise and the Beaumont Journal for the entire town of Woodville, Texas and its outlying areas. I perfected my driving skills while dodging potholes and throwing rolled up newspapers at the end of subscribers driveways.

No big deal you say. How about if I tell you that I wasn't even out of junior high school when all this was 'happening'? Thinking back, it probably wasn't all that odd learning how to drive at the young tender age of 13 or 14 years old.

Reckon you could say I had earned the trust of my parents. I remember my dad dozing off during parts of the route, leaving me to drive and make the tosses that had to be made. Reckon he felt pretty good about me and my driving ability.

Have you ever heard a song on the radio and either the song or the words would transport you back to a time in your life that just made you smile and maybe laugh at the memory?

Just last week, the country and western song by Alan Jackson; "DRIVE" came on and caused me to make that trip down memory lane.

...and I would press that clutch,

and I would keep it right,

and he'd say, 'a little slower son you're doing just fine,

just an old dirt road with trash on each side,

but I was Mario Andretti,

when daddy let me drive....

I remember several different events while driving the paper route. The nocturnal life of the native critters in our corner of the world, snowflakes as big as fifty cent pieces, and the best place to get a grilled cheese at 4 A.M.

Every time my travels take me through that part of Texas, I look for specific landmarks and re-visit that time in my childhood and smile....because,

...I was high on a mountain,

when daddy let me drive.

Going Home

2009-10-25T18:26:00.010-05:00

Going home is not as easy as it sounds.

My dad wanted to move back to his hometown of Alvin, Texas. It was soon after my mom had died and he felt the need to go home.

So we moved him into a nice apartment complex there in the heart of Alvin where he and his siblings were all raised and attended school. As a matter of fact, you could say that my dad and baseball Hall of Fame pitcher, Nolan Ryan went to the same school....even if it was 3 decades difference in time. This move lasted only about a year or so, until he realized that 'home' was back here in Beaumont.

I guess it was about ten or twelve years ago when several years of graduating classes from the 1930's began having shared reunions and I had the honor of taking my dad so he could attend and reminisce. That was neat being able to sit in and listen to him and his classmates talk of their stories from ....'back in the day'.

One of the last reunions was scheduled around the last formal public viewing and visitation of the old high school before it was to be demolished for a new school. Let me tell you something; the folks that made the trip to Alvin for that final public visit were amazing.

You could see it in their eyes and their smiles. You could hear it in their voices as well as sense it in their presence. That common bond between Alvin High School Yellowjackets.

There were tears and laughter all being shared openly. Memories were filling the halls and classrooms where the different years of classes were gathered.

Then there was the lull in conversation when a name would be mentioned and for whatever reason, that individual had passed on ahead of them...then almost at a predetermined time....the silence would be broken with the familiar phrase: "Hey, do you remember the time that...."

I am certain that many memories were revisited that day; the simple stirrings of first loves; the friendly competitions between team mates, and the banding together to pull out a victory on the field of play....were only a few that I noted hearing while trying to blend into the background and listening to the shared stories.

My dad as was many of his classmates were surviving members of the notable group of people called the Greatest Generation that had also survived the great depression and had fought in the war to end all wars.

These people had managed to go home for a visit of the old high school and came away with a different set of memories.

I suppose these folks had never been told that you can't go home...my guess is that they probably wouldn't have cared if they had either.

Call me sentimental....but I was hoping Nolan Ryan was gonna show up and top off the day for me.

Reckon you can go home after all...if you really want to go there...

Cookie Crumbs and Ethics

2009-10-19T19:07:00.012-05:00

My dad was a traveling salesman.

His wares of choice were common everyday items that most everyone could enjoy having at their ready. I will dare say that a few sold better during specific seasons simply due to the way each was manufactured.

Now mind you the seasons here in Texas are as follows: Hot and not quite as hot.

The biggest difference in the two are like night and day....kinda like when the sun goes down...it's not quite as hot. But still, the heat of the seasons did play a part into the success of whether or not my dad had decent sales or not.

My dad was a route salesman for a couple of different cookie companies...and he traveled the country roads of East and Southeast Texas for many, many years.

Just to clear up the seasonal sales statement, chocolate covered cookies didn't do really well in the hotter months, so these were obviously a 'hot' item come the fall and winter months...and the fact that we didn't make many night time runs to stock the stores shelves will support this.

Mrs. Shelby's Cookies and Little Brownie Cookies are the brands that brought me through my childhood. You could say that I was raised on stale cookies....probably more than I like to admit.

My dad would use me and my brothers as his own personal "in house" test survey to determine if a new product was going to sell or not. He would soon know whether or not to push the new 'taste' to his customers.

It was late 1964 when we left Beaumont and headed north to Jasper, Texas. The Little Brownie Cookie company wanted to expand into the area where a new Corp of Engineers project was in its final stages of completion.

Hello Lake Sam Rayburn reservoir.

The largest man-made reservoir inside the boundaries of the great state of Texas. Little did I know then, what type of impact this body of water would have on me and my life this far down life's highway. (you did read about me and my love of bass fishing didn't you...?)

I rode with my dad in his cookie truck through many summers. Making the so called stops at the hundreds of Mom & Pop stores to restock the shelves. Taking in the memories of the screen doors emblazoned with the popular Rainbo Bread logo or the infamous Triple 'XXX' Root Beer that called out to a young boy thirsting for refreshment.

My dad's route covered so many little roadside stores, I still find myself wondering when I pass by an abandoned building along the many miles of familiar roads; if it in fact once housed a set of shelves where a mild mannered father would place his offerings of treats for the public...while his son would go in search of and find the owners old hound dog to pet, or pay a lay-away installment on his first .22 caliber single shot rifle that he still has today, or actually help in rotating the stock of cookies with the freshest in the back, or question where we were gonna eat lunch that day.

Yes I spent a lot of time on the old step-van cookie truck, having to ride sideways on the motor cover and try not to stare at the ever disappearing white stripes on the roadway...double checking with my dad to see what set of license plate numbers we were looking for next.

This was a game he played endlessly to keep his mind occupied. Always looking for a triple set of numbers on the license plates of the thousands of automobiles either coming or going....111 , 222, 333, BUT you had to go in proper order and keep your own list.

This must be where I first learned of and about ethical behavior.

Hey thanks Dad. Thanks for the little things.

A Driving Force

2009-10-15T12:44:00.007-05:00

It is often times misunderstood; which would support why I am not even sure if it actually exists in the first place.

Oh I know that it really does exist, but what happens when the 'drive' goes away? Is it like the transmission on a car? If it's not in gear, you're not going to move very far.

The driving force behind getting something done. The reason for, the need to, the gotta have, the will to endure to reach a goal.

Sometimes it's as simple as ... just because it's what I want.

The part of nature that kicks in and causes different amounts of gray matter and body mass to be put into motion that ultimately give us room to perform and reach that plateau or level of acceptance among our peers.

I witnessed a bit of the phenomena earlier this week when report cards were issued. These were the first for my son in high school.....

Mind you I wasn't expecting the next brief exchange with my son, but was pleasantly surprised. He had received passing grades in all but one class.

The conversation immediately went into the common tennis court theme. Just like players who volley to see who gets to serve first...thooomp..thooomp...thooomp.

To my surprise his counter reply with..."I am simply going to have to hunker down, study, and try harder for the next grading period..."

The driving force for my son is that he wants to try out for the freshman baseball team come next semester and like any good and decent parent, I seized the opportunity to remind him of this.

This is that 'something' he wants...his driving force.

That 'gotta-have' that is fueling his desire to play high school baseball.

Isn't it good to see the 'want-to' in your kids lives actually work with the rotation of the earth? The natural balance of the systems are within factory specifications and working together for the good of life in the Chambers' home for now.

Last week I took my son to the batting cages for the first time in about 3 years. He has been away from organized baseball for that long and understands that he will have to work harder than others that have continued playing.

His attitude is much different this time around. Not sure exactly why, but thankful for the fresh wind that is blowing in from outfield.

That wind blowing in could be the result of the many new and unfamiliar eye catching smiles that crowd the halls and classrooms of his school or even discovering his older sister's Letterman's jacket from her four years of being a cheerleader in school...which prompted the question...

"How do you get one of these jackets?"

We will have to wait and see.

Sincere Thanks To You

2009-10-10T10:05:00.006-05:00

How many different ways is there to say thank you? Probably about as many as there are languages and dialects of those foreign lines of communication.

I owe each and everyone of you a special heartfelt thanks for spending time here.

Where here is exactly is what you're looking at. Inside my blog. You could be any other place in our cyber world, but you chose to exit off the cyber-hiway and cool your fingers and space bar pounding opposing thumb for a few minutes....you're looking at your thumb resting on the space bar there on your keyboard aren't you..?

In setting up my blog a friend of mine suggested hooking up with an online device that tracks all the visitors to this site. I wasn't sure if I really wanted to see the list of 5 or 6 friends who frequent my new obsession of randomly captured adventures from my life or not.

Just this week, I stumbled across a few extra visits from some of you folks out there and wanted to acknowledge your part in boosting my morale. The discovery came on a day that was just really lousy for me. Almost to the level of lousiness..(is that a word?) when the Dallas Cowboys lost their opening game to the New York Giants at the new billion dollar facility.

Goes to show you, spending money on your house and not your foundation, which in this case in my humble opinion...foundation is the QB...tony romo...does not...I repeat....Does Not guarantee you a win.

...sorry about that. Let's get back to the issue. My cyber friends out there who give of your valuable personal time to visit my blog. Just for grins, I am gonna list a few of the places where you have checked in from...be it all a mistake or on purpose that you came in here, I can deal with it.

Here we go now. We have on the list in no particular order the following locations:

Connecticut
California
Delaware
North Carolina
Virginia
Illinois
Texas
Canada - Regina, Saskatchewan
New Zealand - Wellington
Philippines - Manila

Like I opened this post with the numerous ways to say thank you being way more than any one person can list. Being a simple old country boy at heart, let me try it this way....

Hey thanks y'all, I really do appreciate your making time to visit. Hope to see the list of locations grow in the near future. Tell your friends.

It Is What It Is ..... y'all.

Can't Get There From Here

2009-10-09T22:16:00.001-05:00

It's only a moment in time but usually is noted by some type of occurrence.

Oprah refers to this as an ... "Ah-ha" moment.

Many others of less notoriety will pass it off with a mention of ..... 'Well now, don't that just knock your hat in the creek?'

Most of my moments will be parallel to some type of utterance of swear words usually not fit for printing here....and more than likely there are a minimum number of witnesses to the specific point in time.

This time of year used to always have me planning on being in the woods chasing the elusive white tail deer. Having to find my small pack of essentials that go with me into the wild outdoors is one of the first items I check to see is still intact. Mainly the stuff that will assist in getting me into and out of the woods.

One particular year, I was hunting on a parcel of land near my home. Driving less than an hour is considered local for me so this place was really close.

This property is better known as the Big Thicket and is made up of several different tracts of land that total right at 100,000 acres. The acreage of this section was near about 25,000 acres, but I was only interested in a small part that consisted of lets say 1/2 mile square.

I knew the road that I drive in on ran north and south...cause that's what my compass told me.

Never argue with your compass.

Venturing off the road heading west to the small creek that wound through the thicket was my intent for this days hunt. Packing in my folding stool for sitting along the creek, hoping to see some type of native game that lives here. Every time I make a day hunt, I always try to discover a little bit more of the area so that I can say I hunted smart. This day would prove to be an eventful day.

As I skirted an area that looked really 'deer-ish' to me, I stumbled upon an old tree stand. Made a mental note to where it was and continued on with it to my left. About an hour later, I spotted another old tree stand just to the right of my line of sight.

My ah-ha moment was moving towards the idea that this area must be a great place to sit and wait for the deer to cross. Looking for a game trail to focus on, that the deer use to travel from point A to point B on, made sense to me.

While searching for a game trail, I was drawn closer to the second tree stand...only to realize that this was the SAME stand I had found an hour earlier.

You guessed it. I had walked in a circle for an hour. I made a mental note to have my legs measured when I got back home...to eliminate this the next time. Obviously, one of my legs is lazy and doesn't keep up the same pace as the other....

"Oh crap!" ... that's my ah-ha moment. I am freaking lost....I ain't never walked in a circle before, not without wanting to....

Remember earlier when I said to never...NEVER argue with your compass. I had never actually gotten to the point where I was confused and doubting my location...until that day. This was before the handheld GPS units were affordable.

If I remember right, it was even before the home computer craze took off.

It was right about now, I took a reading, heading east to the road. Hopefully, when I find the road, I will not have to flip a coin to see whether to go left or right to find my truck. Trucks are never where you leave them in the Big Thicket....not like you would think they should be.

I should tell you that this area of the Big Thicket is in close proximity to an old straight as an arrow dirt road that many locals refer to as....Ghost Road.

With that knowledge in the back of my mind and my personal experience as a teenager spending many different nights on that ghost road chasing the 'light'.....kind of spurred me to get to the truck before dark.

You ever heard of it being bad luck carrying two compasses....?

Only a Month?

2009-10-07T18:26:00.008-05:00

This week marks a whole month since my surgery. According to my internal calender...it feels like it should be somewhere around the middle of December than just now scratching the early going of October.

Do you remember me mentioning learning a little bit about patience in a recent entry? To be truthful I have discovered that I am not as patient an individual as I once was or at least thought myself to be...or so I have been told. Thank you Cindy.

The term short temper would pretty much cover the overall feeling I have been dealing with in recent weeks.

Along with a few brushes of...deep dark depression...excessive misery....gloom, despair, and agony on me....go ahead, you finish the song...you know it from the old comedy from Cornfield County we watched years ago... HEE HAW.

Today my doctor released me from my immediate restraints. I no longer have to keep the arm in the sling. This in itself was a load off of my mind, my neck and my shoulders.

Just do not use the arm for any type of lifting. Got it..no lifting.

Pretty good trade off as I see it....no sling...no lifting. Can do....or won't do.

My daughter has obviously picked up a smidgen of my sense of humor without me knowing it. In one of our visits a few days ago, she casually asked when I was going to go fishing again.

Re-wind back to me and my arm in a sling. You having a visual yet?

Family sitting around the living room with conversation being wide open to any topic and she hits me with ....

"Hey Dad, when you gonna go fishing again?" ....and as she looks over to me she finds me looking rather intently at her. She never has been able to win a staring contest with me.

Then she realizes what she had just asked me....I pretty much have been dry-docked the entire summer and with the slated recovery time...the fall fishing season is pretty much a wash out as well.

The best I can do for now is to put some fuel stabilizer in the fuel tank of the boat and run the motor while sitting on the front casting deck and dream of front-ending my fishing partner in the back of the boat.... all the while sitting along side of the driveway....keeping a charge on the battery.

The staring contest is still going on.....

My daughter tries to avert the attention of the awkward moment to her latest malady. Her shoulder has been hurting also. Mind you she hasn't had any surgery that we know of, just sleeping on it wrong when she and the granddaughter sleep in on Saturday mornings along with a recent flu shot.

Still staring....maybe even an upgrade to a possible Level-1 glare....

Then it happens.....just about now, she tries to stifle a laugh and fails....she cracks up and so do I. She knows how much I love to fish and is trying to find the lighter side of my dilemma.

The irony of the situation...I made the final payment on my boat with the September payment.

Looks like I will have to give the round to my daughter. Since she scored way more points than I did. Well hey, she does take after her dad....thanks for caring Laci.

Survivor

2009-10-04T21:15:00.010-05:00

I just finished reading the new book that was just released last week by Mackenzie Phillips.

'High on Arrival' is the title to her book.

Wow! What a life she has lived....no let's make that...what a life she has survived.

You remember Mackenzie from the television sitcom One Day at a Time and her first big screen acting job in the movie American Graffiti. She is the daughter of John Phillips of the 60's rock 'n roll group, The Mama's and the Papa's.

To put it bluntly, there is no earthly reason for Mackenzie to be alive today and sharing her story with those of us that enjoyed the music from early in our generation. It is obvious to me that our Creator has a plan for her and will use her in reaching others through her tumultuous childhood and almost lifelong abuse of drugs that nearly took her life.

I picked the book up last weekend and finished it just today.

Even though I basically read it from cover to cover in less than 24 hours, it was easy for me to read simply due to the fact that I enjoy reading true stories and learning about people of my generation. No politics involved, just the music of our youth and the life style that ran parallel with it. The generation of making love and not war.

After finishing the book today, I wanted to share it here with you. Some parts of the book are tough to read and hard to get your mind wrapped around due to the nature of the activities and the lifestyle of the rich and famous in the 1960's.

There has been a lot of controversy from her family pertaining to the 'tell-all' format of the book. After reading the book, I can understand the concern, but I found myself pulling for Mackenzie as the story unwound.

I see it as a form of healing that Mackenzie needed so that she could turn the corner and escape the 'monster' that had taken up residence in her life. The monster was the drug habit she lived with and her daily encounters with her monster will take the reader into places never imagined. Let me warn you that some of the language may not be suitable for tender ears...providing you read out loud...so read it quietly to yourself.

'High on Arrival' pretty much sums up the storyline....but you need to get you a copy and read it for yourself. If the 60's meant anything to you...I'll wager a bet that after reading the story, your opinion of the author will be something you didn't see coming.

Sound OFF...

2009-09-29T12:14:00.003-05:00

This will be simply my opinion...and the only one that matters due to the fact...this is my blog. Feel free to reply with all of your comments..puleeze.

Driving etiquette...or the lack thereof.

In particular the ramps along the freeways of our area. Folks these ramps have specific reasons for being in the places you find them.

For the ease of getting on and off of the freeway and not winding up in Hardin County or heading to Houston.

Plain and simple...getting on the freeway...use the ramp to accellerate to match the flow of traffic already flowing.

That's why it's called an 'ON' ramp...you're getting on the freeway and everybody is moving smoothly until you decide to grace the roadway with your attempt at driving.

I now understand the phrase from NASCAR about..."putting someone into the wall..."

Luckily for you, NASCAR is not the real world...for most folks it's common sense and common courtesy...but then how can it be common when a lot of people don't have it....common sense that is.

The off ramps are the same theory in reverse...BUT don't slow down to the posted speed limit on the service road a half mile before you get to the exit...the ramp is designed for the de-accelleration and blending into that flow of traffic....again common sense here. But I digress with the common sense theory...

Drive safe and read this when you get home ... please.

..must of been the meds

2009-09-17T12:02:00.014-05:00

Saw the doctor yesterday. Basically all good news...even if I do have to keep my arm in a sling for a spell.

There is a time for all seasons, and right about now it appears to be the season for healing of damaged shoulders.

I admit to you.....my few and faithful readers...I am about to learn a little more about patience along this path than I originally thought.

The visit with my doctor enlightened me to the fact that I had almost completely severed my bicep tendon but was still hanging by a few threads. The rotator cuff was ultimately unscathed which left the tendon to be dealt with.

In short, the tendon was re-attached to the humerus ...(which ain't even thinking about being funny) by some modern day, medically named, just what the doctor ordered....screw thingy.

I am also told that within time, the tendon will attach itself to the bone.. and along with those infamous words ringing in the background...be good as new.

Good as new, 'eh? I'll take it!

After the good doctor shared this wonderful news with me, I set about putting my shirt back on along with my new little best friend, the SLINGSHOT2 arm sling. The nurse made a return visit to see what was taking so long with me coming out of the exam room.....

Well hey, I am but one middle-aged man with one good arm and associated factory installed left-hand....trying to button my shirt...give me a second or two.

Upon leaving the doctors office with the stitches removed and feeling good about the prognosis, I waited out front along the drive-thru drop-off area for my soon to be nominated for sainthood loving wife to arrive to take me home.

Soon after returning home, looking at my reflection in my bathroom mirror, I realized that single-handed as I was, I managed to miss-button my shirt...it's no wonder the nurse was stifling a laugh when I so proudly walked out of the exam room and down the hall....my wife almost fell down laughing at the sight of her independent spousal unit standing before her in his lime green fishing shirt all askew....

Well done Mr. Independent-Fluorescent-Lime-Green-Fishing-Shirt-Wearing-Shoulder-Patient Sir...well done.

Now for some ice on my one good hand....CINDY!!!!

Just Holler...

2009-09-11T09:49:00.004-05:00

Recovering from shoulder surgery this past Tuesday...this post may take me a bit longer, but you will never know exactly how long ....will you?

Being a new writer, I am constantly on the 'listen' for a topic.

Sitting in the 'pre-op' cubicle Tuesday morning, not one but two different nurses prepping me for the procedure reminded me upon exiting the curtain framed room...

"If you need anything....just holler."

The second reminder prompted both me and my wife Cindy to a memory of our first born and the passage from diapers to being a big girl and getting 'potty' trained.

We would position her and told her that when she was through....to just holler.

Within a few moments, lost in the program we were watching, we heard her voice from down the hallway...reaching an octave never before believed possible....

"Holll....er!"

Such a smart child she is. She absolutely listened and did just as instructed. She hollered when she was ready for our assistance.

I have been doing my share of hollering around the house since coming home from the day surgery. Cindy has been available for my every request.

She even takes her cell phone to bed with her, just in case I may need her during the night...from the living room where I have taken up residence..I can simply call her.

Truth be known...I haven't called yet...scared to wake her up...but I know she would be there if I did need her.

As she closes the door and turns out the lamps for my attempt to get some sleep in the not so comfortable over stuffed chair....she tells me....

"Just holler...."

Family Time

2009-09-05T23:35:00.007-05:00

Do you ever wonder about the people that come into your life? The planned arrivals are usually predictable and basically surprise free for the most of us...but those unexpected pleasures that just sneak up on you and quietly make their appearance to you. So unassuming they are.

Times like that make me stop and wonder where the hidden camera is.

Who out there is setting me up....and why me.... why today?

I had the pleasure of coaching both Little League Softball for my daughter and Little League Baseball for my son for a total of about 9 years worth of fun and adventure. Some years way more memorable than others when the parents remembered.....IT, meaning the sport...the game was for the kids...not us parents.

I was always amazed at how many of the dads could drop the kids off for practice but never could make it early enough for helping out on the field prep for game days. They would always show up just as the first pitch was made....perfect timing that was.

There was one year that stands out for me. My assistant coach and I were handed the roster of our team and the league president mentioned something about one of our players was new to the league and put him on my team for obvious reasons.

I guess the reasons were many but mostly were simple because I was so good at what I did, had a good rapport with the parents, never created problems, and was one of the older managers in the league that could probably do really well with a new kid.

Hey, these kids were 5 and 6 years old...how tough could it be?

To my surprise, this new kid had a parent that was....how do I say this....well known in the area.

Not just in the area, but pretty much known across the country.....country music that is. The main concern for this situation was that both of the parents wished for the focus to be on their son, and not particularly on the well known parent.

Things worked out pretty well that year. We won a few games. Had the usual team parties during and after the season. Thought it was kinda neat to have a country music entertainer among the parents in the stands...who loved the fact he could come to the games and not get mobbed by the local fans for what he did and take the attention away from the son playing baseball.

During the capping ceremony where all the players are introduced to the entire league, Mark would make it a point to find us where we were lined up prior to the team introduction. Make some small talk with the coaches and then venture off to take advantage of the photo opportunity when his son received his team cap at home plate.

I was not able to acquire Mark's son the next year. The next years level included the draft system and I didn't get the boy on my team. I haggled with the coach for a trade, but he informed me that his wife loved the music that Mark played and was told to hold onto him for her.

Yeah right, he knew that boy was a player....trying to tell me his wife was a country music lover....do I look like I just fell off the turnip truck?

At next years capping ceremony....Mark looked me up on the field again...like friends do. We chatted and he was trying to stifle a laugh. I asked him what was up, and he just mentioned the extra 'T' in the last name on his sons jersey...and we both had a good laugh.

The team mom had mis-spelled the last name.... CHESTNUTT

Hey, stuff even happens on little league fields with big fans of country music stars.

My thanks to Mark Chesnutt for sharing some family time with us.

It is what it is......

You Never Know

2009-08-23T17:46:00.017-05:00

Usually it takes about 2 or 3 days for the doubt to creep in....where it will set up housekeeping in the back of my mind.

I am speaking of what every writer calls .... "writers block".

Writers block is capable of setting the parking brake on the flow of creative juices...much like sunblock will hinder the UV rays of the sun....only better...or worse, depending if you're the writer or the one sitting in the sun.

Trying to decide what to write about that might entertain you folks out there who are kind enough to spend an average of 2 minutes and 44 seconds per visit and keep you coming back for another dose sometimes is like a dog chasing its tail....humorous to watch, about as productive, and leaves you wondering about you and your pets sanity.

Lots of stuff going on in this old East Texas boys life this past week or so...more distractions than
you can shake a stick at with school starting tomorrow and being bitten last week by an undisclosed species of spider...which by the rate of healing....now as been determined NOT to be of the dangerous category.

Just mentioning spiders causes me to shiver a bit. I really don't care for those eight legged creatures that God gave us.

For you hunters out there, if you have spent any amout of time in the woods of East Texas, you all know about the infamous 'banana' spiders that spin their webs across every cow or game trail in the Big Thicket...just waiting for you to walk into and then spend the next several minutes wiping away their sticky old web and then searching for the spider that you can never locate.....and leaves you wondering where the heck it went.....but this may have to be shared with you later so let's get back to this weeks issue of my stumbling and stammering around.....

As I was speaking of earlier, there's writers block to contend with along with all the 'stuff' that finds its way into the daily mix...so you never really know who, what, or where your inspiration will come....but it always does.

I had even thought about maybe this blog thing wasn't gonna fly and flirted with just taking a short time off and away from the keyboard...then BAM...there it is. So unexpected but so obvious.

The credit for this piece goes to my neighbor across the street...Mrs. Arena.

Actually this is the second time she played into my game without her knowing. She was the inspiration behind the story about "Headlights and Tail-lights"....and of all places like the grocery store to run into her, she smiled and greeted me about how much she and some friends of hers were enjoying my blog.

Timing is everything and the fact that our paths crossed as I was entering the store and you were leaving with your purchases proves to me again about being just a small player in this thing called life. Ten or fifteen seconds either way and I would have missed your blessing of encouragement today.

Just so you will know Mrs. Arena....your kind and generous remarks concerning this small space I claim in cyber-space...were well timed and received. That is 'just' what I needed...the old shot in the
arm for keeping on ....."keeping on".

....and I thank you.

You Gotta Wonder

2009-08-12T17:41:00.004-05:00

How's your funny bone doing?

Not the funny bone in your elbow, the funny bone that defines your sense of humor. The part of you that lets you find the funny stuff in your life.

I always say that you gotta laugh to keep from crying these days. Laughter is good for the soul. Which brings about the question...

Do you think that God likes baseball? Of course He does and He even had it documented in His Word.

So you didn't know that baseball is mentioned in the Bible? Yep, it sure is and it must be a favorite sport of our Creator since He had it recorded right there up front of everything else....and you most likely have heard it before too.....

"In the Big-Inning...."

You get it don't you..? in the beginning..God created ... (just checking...)

While sitting in the drive-thru this A.M. at the local McDonalds, my son and I noticed...let's call them mature... a mature couple arriving for their morning coffee and breakfast.

Just as they came to a stop in the parking spot, you could tell that the wife was just a wee bit irritated with her husband of several years....reason we knew this was due to the 'body-language' she had going on with her head and the clear, concise, and complete -who-the-boss-is reply...before they exited the car...

It couldn't have been too terribly bad since he did carry in both of their McDonald's logo loaded coffee mugs for their meal.

I casually asked my son if he wanted to wager a bet as to how long the couple had been blissfully married..and he added that could be or should be changed to....'blisteringly' married.

After witnessing this early morning event, another question surfaced...

If a husband is in the woods and makes a decision, with no wife actually there, is he still just as wrong?

Yeah, I might catch a bit of the business from that remark...but that would mean that whoever gives me the flak, actually went online and read this blog....I'll take that chance.

Our son is beginning to hone his own sense of humor, but this morning, he really got me.

While at the doctor's office to complete his required list of immunizations for the school year, he was carrying around the usual basket of nerves. There were 4 shots that he needed to be ready for the coming year and the doctor was doing his usual banter with the patient and commented how several of his female patients had fainted from the ordeal.

As the fourth and final injection was administered, I watched my son sink to his left...thinking he was checking the sense of humor of the doctor....when he hit the exam table....I suddenly realized ....

He ain't joking! The boy actually fainted dead away. His eyes never closed and was only out for just a few seconds....but it sure was enough to stir the emotions of his dad....yeah buddy.

On the way home, I reminded him of the reason for the additional call buzzer in the examining room...had his mother been the one there, the doctor would of had to deal with both of you....a fainting patient and a hysterical mother....

Tomorrow we ...me and my son, will go and do all the registering for his first year in high school.

Chances are, my sense of humor is about to be tested....I will let you know....wish me luck.

Life at the Front

2009-08-05T19:20:00.019-05:00

You never quite know what circumstances will occur to bring an individuals character to the surface and then when an incident does make its appearance, you may stop and ask yourself....

"How would you have handled that if it had been you...at the Front?"

William Guillory was born and raised in Houston, Texas. He served our nation for 3.5 years while reaching the rank of Staff Sergeant in the Air Force. After which he enrolled in college and secured a degree in mechanical engineering. He came to the Golden Triangle area in 1972 where he worked the area refineries for 24 years.

But something was just not right with his understanding of mathematics and the way the world was unfolding around him.

I am told that the motivation that drives Mr. Guillory comes from the fact that a large percentage of the young black males enrolled in school in the ninth grade will not make it to their senior year of high school.

He wants to make a difference wherever he possibly can.

The numbers he quoted me for both male and female students that would drop out was staggering...but the look in his eyes was enough for me to begin to understand the driving force inside him.

It was earlier this spring while preparing his ninth grade classes for the mandated TAKS testing that his moral fiber was pushed to its tensile strength.

Seems there was a difference of opinion between two female classmates of whom both favored the attention of the same male student, and the discussion was brought into Mr. Guillory's class...which to say the least; turned physical in the blink of an eye.

With an obvious difference in the 'weight-class' of the two contestants, a decision was made to keep the smaller girl from being pummeled. It was during the second attempt to separate the girls that Mr. Guillory received his 'medal' for valor.

The rotator cuff injury would sideline Mr.Guillory for the rest of the season.

What is wrong with this picture? Where do students of today get off thinking that this type of behavior is acceptable?

Mr. Guillory told me that when he returned to his classroom to pick up his things, the substitute teacher had recorded failing grades for the student that was the center of attention that fateful day back in April.

Another statistic? You do the math...

Mr. Guillory will teach his last year of high school math this coming year. Next year he will retire from the 10+year career he truly gave of himself to.

Did I mention to you that his three children all received degrees in other fields, BUT ended up changing over to the rewarding career of teaching themselves?

Imagine that....kinda makes you go hmmmmm doesn't it?

Way to go Mr.G....you can retire to Waco next year....and get yourself away from hurricane alley.

Port Arthur Memorial High School will surely miss you and your passion for teaching. May God bless you as only He can.

Thanks for caring.

Coming Attractions...

2009-08-02T10:30:00.000-05:00

I recently received some constructive criticism about one of my recent articles that is posted here. I have learned while being new to this writing gig, one should listen to all that is said and chew on it a while before responding.

Responding may be the wrong word here...

How about... reflecting on the criticism, that sounds better, a little more thought provoking on my part.

This particular feedback resulted in a volley of emails between myself and the individual whom I greatly respect for his time and words of encouragement.

Like baseball great Dizzy Dean once said: "It ain't bragging if you can back it up..." .....and with the number of years this mentor has under his belt, the respect due him is deserved as well as demanded.

My next piece will concentrate on an individual and not so much as a group. The particular article in question was referred to as 'kinda long' and just 'ran on' a little too long. I have to tighten it up a bit. Write tight as I have been told.

Through the past 6 weeks of my coming and going to physical therapy, I met a new friend that I want to introduce to you soon.

His story is unique in its own.

This man is one of our modern unsung heroes that walks among us virtually unseen.

We all know someone like him, and possibly one or two of you reading this could either be a co-worker or a brother or sister in arms with him.

Mr.G is a high school teacher.

Be sure and come back to read my story on this local hero. One of our local teachers that is leaving his mark on our future.

Honest Scrap Award

2009-08-01T12:35:00.011-05:00

I honestly do not know where the name for this article originated from, but understand the theme....maybe there is an extra 'S' in the middle word....

I am to reveal 8 things, honest things about myself that are absolutely the truth. Thanks to Debra for her consideration of me for this award. I want to thank all the little people, which is most everyone since this diet I am currently on is not exactly working to plan....lose 4 or 5 pounds and then gain them back.

Honest Scrap on me...

1) My real name is Edgar A. Chambers. I was named after the man that stood up with my parents at their wedding. Had I been born a female, my name would have been Evelyn, the name of the wife of the man that stood up at my parents wedding.

2) Jake is simply a nickname. Given to me by a friend from high school. He couldn't remember my real name so he threw out Jake and it has stuck with me for close to 39 years now. I still hear from him every 6 or 8 years. If anyone reading this knows the whereabouts of a Brill Jordan from Kountze, Texas....tell him to call me.

3) I am a native born Texan and proud of it. Another one of the many blessings that God gave me includes being a natural born American citizen. Speaking along the lines of lineage....I am 1/8th Seminole Indian.

4) My three brothers are all actually half brothers. My parents both had children from previous marriages. You wanna talk fuzzy math, try this. My dad had 3 sons and my mom had 2 sons. Add all these up, there are 4 of us boys. That's right...I am number 3 son for my dad and number 2 son for my mom.

5) I love to bass fish....but you knew that huh?

6) I would love to compete in the Amazing Race reality show.

7) One of my first jobs was at the local movie house, the Texas Theater in Jasper, TX back in 1967. I made $15.00 on my weekly check and cleared just over $12.63 each week. I learned to operate the projectors and recently was able to take a guided tour of the projection booth at Tinsel Town Cinema Theaters to see how technology has advanced. WOW! My son was equally impressed with the set-up.

8) I truly love my family. They mean the world to me. Without them, my direction in life would simply be meaningless.

It Is What It Is

Gettin' Physical....Therapy that is

2009-07-20T17:42:00.023-05:00

It hasn't been the 'funnest' thing I have ever done in my life, but I am feeling the benefit of just how having therapy makes things better...the physical type of therapy that is.

The PT group associated with the local bone doctors do a really good job in my opinion. This being the first time to have this level of physical therapy; I must tell you the treatments have been administered in the most professional manner while keeping a casual and friendly atmosphere.

A lot of you may not know about the injury to my shoulder. Back in the middle of May this year, I was pushing on a big old piece of equipment at work and felt something give in my upper chest / shoulder area. Right away I knew that this was not gonna be good.

Just for your information...screaming like a little girl...doesn't make it quit hurting any sooner.

The pain pretty much stayed with me over the weekend and early into the next week until I got to see the local shoulder doctor.

Tests would conclude that I had partial tears in both my rotator cuff and the bicep tendon along with an agitating little bone spur that digs into to stuff that doesn't like being dug into.

Note to all who care...unless you have ever experienced the 'joy' of a shoulder injury, you just don't realize how much you use your arm and shoulder in simple things like opening doors, turning steering wheels, putting your vehicle in gear, and even brushing your teeth. These simple motions will remind you quickly of better days.

So far, there is no surgery scheduled...possibly within the next six weeks we might look at removing the bone spur....but for now it's physical therapy for me and my shoulder.

Spending at least an hour with these folks every other day and listening to them as they go through their tasks while tending to the 'patients', I couldn't help but pick up on some things that I want to share with you.

Top dog in here is Mr. Jim...or Dr. Jim as the tongue depressor reads while you are lying on your back getting stretched out by Jim. Someone drew a little face on the stick and stuck it up along the ceiling tile for you to look at.

Mr. Jim runs the ship....or maybe it's Pauline and Margaret who work the front desk that 'let' Jim run the ship...will check on that and get back to you. Pauline and Margaret will always greet you with a smile as you sign in for your therapy sessions.

P.J. does a great job with chasing down the insurance necessary for those of us with claims. She basically works behind the scene somewhere beyond the single door that leads away from the command cubicle.

Before any therapy is performed on anyone, Mr. Jim will check you over and decide what he thinks is best for your situation and in line with the doctor's orders. This information is then passed on to the able bodied crew of therapists. On a really busy day, I sit in amazement as to how everyone is moving from station to station without knocking someone over...

Although there is more activity on some days than there are other days, the whole operation is pretty much like clockwork. There are plenty of heat packs and ice packs to keep track of during the course of a day. Not to mention the nifty little voltage producing gizmo and the ultra sound treatment thingy the crew uses to manipulate that specific part of your body needing attention.

Speaking of the crew... now I know someone will possibly get their feelings hurt simply because I didn't list them first, got something wrong like the spelling of their name....so here is my disclaimer.

Sorry for your luck...get your own blog.

I am doing this mostly by memory from information I managed to pick up just sitting and listening.

I will start with Katie since she took the initiative to write the names down for me. Katie hopes to one day work in either the college or professional ranks as a physical therapist. I hope she makes it. In talking with her it sounds like she has a good start.

Kristen will soon be leaving the crew and heading to A&M, College Station..... Aggieland. I understand she really wants to go to A&M...and she would like to stay and keep this job also....

My money is on her ending up in Aggieland...

We have at least one military veteran in the mix. Will has served 2 tours in the middle east. Thank you Will for your service to our country and good luck on your summer classes.

Oh yeah, Will is also a University of Texas fan who keeps the rivalries stirred up every chance he gets...."Hook 'Em Horns"

Jessica will be leaving soon heading to Baton Rouge. Talk about rivalry. She claims to like the University of Texas but her fiance is from LSU. Other than politics, college loyalty is the only other factor that can keep the fires of rivalry burning.

The recent college world series was a mixed bag around the therapy room. LSU... National Champs in baseball and football... imagine that.

Ana is always in the background. Kinda quiet but most efficient. Always with a smile...makes me wonder if she is up to something.....you know what they say about the quiet ones.

I believe she told me she is taking classes for radiology and she was the one that first pointed out how the ultrasound treatment will disrupt the radio playing in the corner. The secret is out now Ana....

Amy, Alisa, and Doug come in around the time I am finishing with my round of exercises. Sorry to say I don't have much scoop on them other than...

Alisa says that most folks will call her Alice and she also hopes to work with athletic departments like Katie. Amy reminds me of my niece from Houston who I haven't seen in a few years...and Doug is pretty much safe since I haven't been able to gather much on him...yet.

Janine is one of the other quiet leaders of the group...seems to always be busy with her regulars....but does speak and asks how my day is. Janine is one of the two more experienced therapists who keeps a watchful eye on the younger crew members and will help out when and wherever needed. I hope I got your named spelled correctly...if not, I am gonna blame it on someone else....

The last but certainly not the least member of the crew is Ms. Pat.

Pat always has a word for you...or a name. I have managed to miss a nickname from her so far, but my luck may run out after she sees this. The big thing about Pat is her technique of greeting you.

She "young manned" me just the other day.

A few years ago, I started using the greeting on my older more mature co-workers. Realizing that most of the men I worked with had more experience in our line of work and I hoped to glean as much knowledge as possible from them as I could, so I tried to keep the daily grind of our jobs...light and humorous. I would greet them with:

'Hey young man, how you doing today?'

Well she 'young manned' me just last week.

At the time, all I could do was laugh about it. Pat had got me....and she is passing it along to her co-workers also. I hear that very phrase all over the exercise room when any older and more mature patient arrives.

Just today, I heard Pat give out a 'Hey young lady...' I reckon that just proves the crew treats all their patients the same....yep...I reckon so.

Hey, It Is What It Is.

The One That Didn't Get Away

2009-07-17T07:44:00.012-05:00

Most every bass angler I have the opportunity to meet has a story about the one that got away.

Fact is one of my favorite websites I frequent shares the stories of professional bass anglers and a single fish that got away.

Some of which were the difference in winning or losing the tournament and achieving a personal goal in their careers.

My personal best catch to date was not of the elusive green finned species.

The 'keeper' I hold nearest and dearest to my heart is my wife....and today is her birthday.

Happy Birthday Cindy!

Cindy doesn't like for me to spend money on a card. She would rather me keep it personal and just write her something special, leave it near the coffee maker for her to read as she waits for her first cup to brew.

She will stand at the kitchen window, scan the morning sky, check her flowers she has planted in the window box, and have her few minutes of quiet time before her day really kicks off.

Cindy has a day job that runs more than just 8 hours. She is my Domestic Engineer.

We have a 14 year old son. That in itself is a job for a couple of folks and a subject for another article...and I will leave it at that.

People would ask how did I convince her to marry me.

I tell them simply, she thought I had money.... and could two-step to country music.

Actually I could dance more than I had money.

To be truthful, she had the opportunity to check me out before we ever met. Her brother talked me into playing softball with a group of guys and at the first game, she was in the stands taking notes on the 'new' guy.

I can blame the whole situation on her now. She saw what she was getting into and stayed around so I could get her phone number... so basically, it's all her fault.

Truth be known... I sure am glad she stuck around for me to talk to. That first time we talked, I got hooked on her.

Back to the issue of me buying her cards for special occasions. It was revealed to me earlier this year when I gave her a card for our anniversary.

Again, the card was left near the coffee maker and off to work I go.

Returning home, I discovered that Cindy keeps all the cards she is given.

Laying on the kitchen counter were 3...count 'em THREE identical cards I have given her for our anniversary...and yeah, these were from the two previous years.

We celebrated 28 years of wedded bliss earlier this year. I truly believe that the Good Lord sent her into my life for a reason. Thank you God for bringing this woman into my life. You knew all along I would need someone like Cindy to keep me grounded in the ways of life.

I need a sign to hang in our house that reads something like this:

"A man lives here with the Best Catch of his life"

I Love You Cindy and have a great day today.

Happy Birthday!!

Funny thing happened....

2009-07-12T21:49:00.011-05:00

A funny thing happened this weekend while cleaning out our garage.

Well, it's not a lot of cleaning, more like rearranging stuff....and we got some stuff. Seems like with every re-decorating of a room, the 'extra' winds up in my garage.

My garage runneth over and then someth.

I used to keep my boat in the garage. It became a real handy shelf to set things that didn't have a place in the house or was on its journey from one of our vehicles to inside the house....never quite making it.

Every time I wanted to take the boat out, it would require about 30-45 minutes of removing all the 'non-boating' items just to hook up and pull it out of the garage. I soon tired of this and bought a cover for the boat and now it sits along the drive way and basically is ready to roll within minutes of decision.

My biggest challenge is keeping the neighbors cat out of the boat. Even with the cover, there is enough room for the cat to squeeze between the outboard motor and the custom opening of the cover.

As for you cat lovers reading this, no calls to the authorities please.

This love-hate relationship has been going on for a while. I don't mind cats and cats don't mind me. This one is one of them long haired creatures and leaves enough hair to keep the battle between us raging.

OK, back to the garage. I had about half of my double driveway filled with some of the stuff from the garage. A few boxes were destined for charity while others were being looked at and gleaned of valuables.

Taking a short break, I spotted a car pulling up along the street and the couple along with their little toddler were soon making their way up the driveway.

Now mind you, there was no organization to the way I had our 'stuff' set in the driveway, but was enticing enough for these folks to think it was a garage sale.

I am not sure who was more surprised, me or them. Little did I know that my immediate neighbor was having an impromptu garage sale next door, but I couldn't see the activity due to the big old honking hedge on his property line.

The couple quickly apologized and aimed for the neighbors sale.

Could of been worse I suppose. I remember one garage sale we held years ago before moving into our present home and we were posed with a different situation. There was one lady that asked to use our bathroom.

Said she really wanted to continue 'shopping' but needed to use the facilities.

Hey lady, this ain't Wal-Mart and we don't have public restrooms either.

Sorry for your luck and thanks for stopping by.

Which one are You?

2009-07-10T09:00:00.000-05:00

Listener or Talker.

Which are you? A listener or a talker? Do people seek you out to share their problems with or are you the one that is constantly in need of an ear?

I suppose that we all are a little of both. Everyone needs to vent from time to time and we should be kind enough to lend an ear when needed. That's only fair, don't you think?

Who do you vent to? Your spouse? A co-worker? Close friend or acquaintance. Does it depend on the subject as to whom you want to talk to? Yeah, now we're getting there.

It really depends on who can relate to your situation doesn't it? You sometimes want some feedback or maybe a little guidance and you will bend the ear of that person you feel can assist you in the journey.

But if you are looking for someone to just let it all out on and hear your head rattle, you know who to go to, right? Yeah, I thought so.

We all have those type of people in life. Being parents, we hope that our children will come to us with their troubles, unless of course being the parent IS the problem.

No matter the situation, I have tried to teach my children that any situation can be worked through if you ask. There will always be someone to ask for help. Be it situations at school with friends, classmates, or the neighborhood bully.

I had a revelation once when my son asked me about something and was wondering how he was going to get through it. My reply was something like, well you know, I don't remember ever being faced with this particular situation as a boy, and that he was the learning curve since I had not raised a son through those waters either.

Basically what I learned that day, it's okay to tell your kids that you don't know but will stand with them all the way through it....and the answer was good enough for him.

I also believe that it's okay for your children to see how you handle life's struggles, so that maybe if and when they face their own down the road, they just might remember how mom or dad handled themselves.

Todays world offers a wide variety of challenges. There are new hurdles for us every single day. Many of which are being faced by our friends, neighbors, and family members.

Like being unemployed. Without work. Un-busy at making money.

Our corporate office made the decision to 'exit' the business of the product our small production unit produces.

Fancy arrangement of words to say we are shutting you down.

The shock from the initial annoucement has now worn off, the dust is settling and the final sunset will occur sometime in the next several months.

Questions abound all around and the usual people that hear our queries, now have their own set of questions. Lots of asking, not a lot of answers.

We are expected to continue with our day to day activities here at the job site like the announcement was nothing more than the usual monthly production schedule notice.

As my daughter was preparing for life outside of our home, I kept after her to learn a skill that would support her and not be dependent on another individual. She has made her mother and I so very proud and is currently living comfortably on her own.

Way to go Laci.

Now I face the same challenge with my son who will be a freshman in high school this coming fall. Decisions will need to be made to chart his course in life. Medical field, construction, civil work, or information technology; it's going to be his choice.

I know that things will work out for me, my family, and our immediate future. The Good Lord brought me to this point by allowing me to get started in this direction some 34 years ago.

The main thing is this...I need to quit talking and start listening to Him for the guidance I know He will give me. He knows my needs even before I speak them...

I need to increase my quiet time to hear Him speak.

I must become a listener.

How many angels does it take?

2009-06-27T20:46:00.000-05:00

Timing is everything. Have you ever heard that statement?

If you follow sports of any type, you more than likely have heard that exact statement. The games play-by-play announcers will qualify a running play in a football game as to how the running back 'hit the hole' a second before it collapsed and broke into the secondary gaining enough yardage for a much needed first down.

It's all about timing.

In baseball, bat speed is crucial. Having a small spinning orb hurled toward you that can be moving erratically itself along its path to the catchers mitt. The batter must have good bat speed to execute exact timing in order to make contact putting the ball into play.

Perfect timing...bat hitting the ball.

What about the inconvenient fender bender you happened upon while heading to the mall last weekend. Looks like the one car had run the red light and clipped the rear bumper of the car in the crossing traffic. Just how close was that?

Was timing involved here?

Suppose the driver of the car that had their bumper clipped had dropped their car keys twice while leaving the house or maybe a last minute phone call to delay them. Would that have been enough time to possibly miss the incident entirely?

Come with me into the realm of the spiritual world. Guardian angels to be exact.

Now whether you believe in this style of thinking or not, open your mind just a little and imagine it with me.

I like to believe that we all have at least one guardian angel assigned to each of us and will call for help from the other angels sitting on the bench should the need for spiritual-backup arise.

You have to admit, there are some of us that need more help than others...just look around and think about the folks driving the open road with you. Yeah, you know the ones I'm talking about...the same ones that can't walk and chew gum very well.

There may be the occasion where you never see the results of the actions from our guardian angels, which supports the fact that those type of people go thru life oblivious to the world around them. We could call them 'clueless' or 'information challenged'.

Being 'clueless' is not entirely bad. It becomes a way of life for them and supports the short quotation: "Don't know why they call it common sense, when a lot of folks don't got it".

You've seen these people before. Something happens that is really out of the norm, and the only reaction you get from them is maybe a head shake with a grunt.

The ones that scare me are the ones with the patented 'blank-stare' after a near critical encounter. You can see it in their eyes, the lights are on but nobody's home.

Just this week while traveling to one of my physical therapy appointments, I left work with plenty of time to navigate the mid-day traffic, I encountered one of the events I mentioned above.

The drive is mostly highway traffic and not at all congested. My mind is on the therapy session treating my shoulder and a dental appointment after that.

During the first couple of miles on the highway, I noticed the sound of wind blowing past the doors and windows. For some odd reason, the wind noise seemed a bit more 'pronounced' during this portion of the drive.

I did a quick check of the windows, making sure all were rolled up so not to lose any air conditioning on this HOT afternoon.

So to assist in covering the sound, I turned up the volume of the radio and before long I forgot about the wind noise. It's right about now I realize that I am doing just like my daughter used to do...changing the radio stations.

Cannot stand commercials. Want to hear music and since my CD player quit on me a couple of years ago, I am at the mercy of the local mid afternoon DJ for any type of musical entertainment.

Don't forget to take the EXIT ahead...thinking to myself...you wouldn't want to miss and have to double back. Got to stay in this lane.....

Thoughts while driving cover everything going on in your life. EVERYTHING!

Summer vacation for the kids, situations at work, the family, wanting to be at the lake complaining about it being too hot to fish, the monthly electrical utility bill due to the summer heat, and the next school year being the freshman year for our son in high school....

Don't like that song, changing the station...

It's almost automatic, taking the EXIT and easing along the service road that leads to the underpass where I will take the U-turn and avoid the traffic light and the intersection.

There are no other cars ahead of me in the lane leading into the U-turn...

Along the elevated portion of the freeway, the highway department has planted shrubs to soften the point where the concrete and grass come together.

Something catches my attention in the traffic that is stopped at the intersection and I take my eyes away from the left turn into the U-turn...

As I negotiate the turn, I immediately spot a set of denim clad legs thru the long thin blades of the pampas grass shrub moving across the same feeder road my truck is occupying...what the...

My reflex was automatic, hitting the brakes and swerving to the right...

The anti-lock brakes perform their designed tasks and I can feel and hear the tires digging into the pavement with the familiar chirp-chirp-chirp...

When I came to a stop....the individual was standing even with the driver side door just looking at me thru the window....with 'the look'. A look that just kind of asked where the heck did you come from...?

It looked like he had grunted and shook his head at me all the while wondering why I was in his way not wanting him to cross the road...

I was dumbfounded. Had I not swerved to miss him, the distance from the front of my truck to the drivers door was how far he might have been up rolled up in a heap under my truck or possibly thrown into the large concrete pylons supporting the freeway overpass.

After about a full 5 second eye to eye encounter, the man turned and walked to the rear of my pick-up and proceeded in his direction of choice...across the feeder road and towards the intersection.

You reckon there were any guardian angels involved with this chance meeting? I for one do truly believe in guardian angels with this story as my testament.

Was the sound of wind rushing by my windows actually the sound from the wings of my angels either speeding me up or trying to slow me down? Possibly.

Can you picture a wall of angels standing shoulder to shoulder across the U-turn feeder lane laying down a wall of protection for this man whose life would have been changed?

If it weren't for the guardian angels that afternoon, both of our lives would have been changed dramatically.

Talk about Devine Intervention or Perfect Timing....

I gave a short prayer of thanks for the good ending to what could have been a really bad situation. I experienced a rush of emotions within the next several minutes.

So the next time you drop your keys repeatedly while trying to start your car, or you have to make an extra trip back inside because you forgot the receipt for the gift you're returning, or the phone call while just leaving for the store....it could be your guardian angel doing their job.

Think about this the next time your alarm clock doesn't get you up and you run late for work...just think about your guardian angel and what you may have missed.

Using a closing quote from one of the afternoon DJ's... "Don't drive so fast that your guardian angel can't keep up...."

Jacob Colin Chambers

2009-06-23T11:00:00.002-05:00

Wanting a family is sometimes more than just deciding to start a family. Some couples are destined to struggle with the journey.

My wife and I would be lifetime members of that select group. For what ever the reason, God taught us patience through the ordeal...

I remember it like it was just this morning.

A Sunday morning as I sat looking for a specific verse in my bible. It was the time before morning worship service and I was searching for that 'something special' that morning. Little did I know what was in store for me.

My hands found the verse that would lead me to an answer.

John 14:14 was a pure and simple promise. I read it again...

And then I bowed my head and asked God for a second child and I asked Him for this child in His name.

The sense of assurance was overwhelming. I told the wife when I returned home of what I had received. Her words..."Wow, it must have been a really good sermon."

I replied, "You just wait until next month, the test will be positive!"

What a birthday it would be the coming year. Cindy warned me that if our son was born on my birthday, I basically would be 'forever' taking a back seat to all of the celebrations, and I was cool with that...totally okay with it.

The first year was filled with unknowns. But our faith was steadfast in the fact that Jacob was an answer to a prayer. Within a week after the year long anticipation of surgery, the situation went in a direction we did not expect.

After almost six weeks of time in the hospital, God called Jacob home.

Why us Lord? Why us...?

And He answered,
"Who would you pick to take your place?"

The anguish we felt left us all alone or so we thought until that one night when I dreamed of Him cradling me as I had held my own children...

OR maybe it wasn't a dream after all. Who am I to say what God will do when a child needs comfort. Who better than the parent to console ?

We came to learn that the passing of time really does heal.

This very year of 2009 marks a milestone in our human existence. Jacob would have turned 21 but still in our hearts and minds, he will always be our 'Tonkers'...

Jacob Colin Chambers
'Tonkers'
2/1/88 - 4/12/89

You came to us simply, as an answer to a prayer,
Presented as a blessing, an example of God’s care.
To fill a space in time, we all know as life,
A joy, a thrill, a shining ray of light.

Little did we know the short time we would share,
I can still see you with your perfect head of hair.
The smiles and the tears would show us how much,
A blessing from Heaven, oh you were just such.

Your day of birth was a celebration of sorts,
Life with a beginning, big plans for all kinds of sports.
We had the chance to share the same birthday that year,
I thought..hey why not, let’s do it. It had a nice ring to the ear.

Troubles arose and our feelings exposed,
Fears and doubts were present, normal reactions I suppose.
Would not cast the problems on anyone we knew,
Not really sure why, but we questioned God too.

A blessing from Heaven, a gift from above,
You came and you left, like the flight of a dove.
You touched our lives in many different ways,
And your memory will live with us throughout all our days.

Your name, it was chosen, we knew it from the start,
We would call you Jacob Colin, but ‘Tonkers’ in our heart.
Now you stay busy by playing at God’s feet,
While making friends with the angels, oh that sure sounds neat.

Our time here on earth is numbered for sure,
Which may be up today, tomorrow, or late November.
There's one thing I know, and it’s a sure thing,
We’ll be together again when God calls, and it’s my ring.

Jake Chambers
May - 2001

My First Father's Day

2009-06-19T07:10:00.024-05:00

Happy Father's Day!

Happy Father's Day to those of you that will get the usual Father's Day card along with the opportunity to fire up the grill and cook your own Father's Day meal.

To those fathers that will get the phone call from your children that live across the country and are not able to physically share the day with you, Happy Father's Day.

To those serving our country by being 'in-country' overseas and standing in the gap, defending our many freedoms we enjoy each and every day. Happy Father's Day.

Whether this is your first Father's Day or one of many to come, Happy Father's Day.

This just happens to be my 26th Father's Day.

If you are a stickler for details, you will argue the count by the end of the story...and that's what the comment section is all about. Please feel free to participate.

Twenty-six years ago, on Father's Day, my wife went into labor. Although it was late afternoon while we were visiting her dad, the pains began.

Suffice it to say, somewhere around midnight, we found ourselves at the hospital only to be turned away with instructions to see her doctor the next morning.

The doctor's visit was quick and to the point. Leave right now and go straight to the hospital. Do not pass go, just go straight to the hospital. NOW!

The day would bring us our first child. Our first born.

At the onset of 'our' pregnancy, we optioned for the day of delivery to discover what sex our child was...a boy or a girl.

For you scientists, doctors, engineers, and sticklers for details, that would be male or female.

Kind of like Christmas morning, you wanted to know what you were getting but just having to wait for it made it worthwhile.

We did the la maze classes in preparation of the birth. Got to go on a tour of the hospital maternity ward and delivery rooms as we neared the end of the class. This part was really boring to me, since I was working as an electrician on the expansion project at this very hospital.

The project was adding a whole new wing that included new labor and delivery rooms with an updated neo-natal nursery. The entire floor was dedicated to the delivery and care of our future citizens.

I remember seeing my co-workers from the labor room window. They were measuring off wire for one our major wire pulls for the project. Boy it sure looks hot down there and here I am in the air conditioning hanging around waiting on this special delivery......oh, sorry about that.

Getting back to the birth of our first child. The la maze class would end up being a bust for me. I was sent to the waiting room because fathers were not allowed in the delivery room during surgical procedures.

As I sat there with all my in-laws...waiting for the moment to arrive, the fact that I was about to become a parent got all over me. I was about to be a father. Was I ready? We were no longer going to be a couple.

We are family....(there's a song in there somewhere don't you think?)
....we are fam-ah-lee...i got all my sisters with meee.......

The arrival of my daughter made me a dad.

Our first born was a healthy and beautiful baby girl. All 9 pounds 8 ounces of her. I truly believe the Good Lord had a hand in the size of her because it made it easier for me to hang on to her. Like most first time dads, I didn't have a lot of experience with holding babies.

My wife and I had already picked out the names for our first child. We were ready for either one.

Our baby girl was here and we would name her Laci Renee.

Even though her birthday was the day after Father's Day that year, I still count it as my first Father's Day.

June 20, 1983. My daughters birthday.

'MY' first Father's Day!

Fastforward to June 2009.

This Father's Day I get to celebrate it as a grandfather as well. Being a grandfather is still basically new but I figure it will work itself out.

Grandma still gets top billing around the house...except for this coming Sunday, when it's Grandpa's turn to be 'top dawg'.

Well hopefully this 'top dawg' will get to sit around with family, both of my kids, and the granddaughter. Probably even fire up the grill and cook our Father's Day meal. Enjoy the day in all its glory...and then some.

Here's to all the fathers out there.

May God Bless you as only He can for being the father He wants you to be.

Happy Father's Day

Headlights and Tail-lilghts

2009-06-17T09:00:00.000-05:00

Anticipation.

The word always reminds me of the ketchup commercial and the accompanying song.....

Ann-tis-a-paay-shon....... you're maykin me wait......
(you're singing it to yourself right now aren't you?)

This is one sensation everyone experiences at some point in their lives. It usually builds to a point where your focus is centered around a specific activity and nothing else matters.

The anticipation of the birth of a first child, that first new home or car.

Your first job or your next job. Grandchildren and retirement.

The flood of light onto your living room walls from headlights in the driveway has increased your anticipation level and caused your voice to change to the next higher octave as you shout out to your spouse,

"They're here! They're here! the kids are here!"

Artificial light that spills out in front of the car hides the faces of the occupants from your sight. Your adrenaline is still raging until you hear the familiar voices from the darkness beyond the headlights.

"Grandma! Grandma....Grandpa!" (grandmas always get first billing...)

Happiness all around. The family is here and the anxiousness you were feeling is replaced by the indescribable heart warming sensation we call the 'warm fuzzies'.

The annual visit with family has finally arrived, along with the sharing of old and the making of new memories.

Your kids are home and all is right with the world.

The hours pass by quickly at first as you try to catch up on all that has happened since you were last together. Hoping and wishing that the few days together could stretch out longer for more family time.

The kitchen you used to knock around in by all yourself is now filled to capacity with the kids and grand kids. Baked family favorites cover most all available counter tops as the stories from years past fill the air, mixed with laughter and even a few memorable tears.

But that's okay, you are loving it.

The kids are home.

Tomorrow will dawn different. From out of left field, the strange, no the eerie sense of change and indifference starts to seep in.

You shake this off as just being tired and the stress from all the preparations for the family visit is settling in. All of the activity whirling around you is somehow not what you thought it would be.

Before long you realize that the empty nest syndrome you once wrung your hands over was not the adversary you once thought it to be.

Where had all the peace and quiet gone?

Deep down you are thinking you must be just a bit off your feed as your grandmother used to say.

Yes of course, I'm just tired and not used to this much activity. Again you think that tomorrow will be different.

Besides, the kids are home.

But the new day dawns with new challenges. The grand kids are chasing Alice, your beloved one-eyed, slightly neurotic cat up the 74 year old oak tree behind the house, where she stays until its dark.

The youngest of the grand kids is exploring all the cabinets and book shelves within their reach and asking "What's This?" over and over and over again.

Your normal clean and tidy home suddenly has that 'lived-in' look. A look you realize that you haven't seen in about a year or so...and the anticipation starts to build.

This round of anticipation though is paired with another set of emotions. Let's face it. You have become set in your ways and how you step through your days. You realize you want your world back.

Your quiet, your solitude, your empty nest.

Wait a second, these are my kids and grand kids and I love them dearly. Yeah, and you quickly reason that you can love them from a distance also.

And before you know it, the time together is winding down. The kids are loading up for the trip home. The time has flown by these few days.

Hugs and kisses all around. Grandma wipes at a tear, Grandpa tells them to drive safe and to call when they get there.

As you watch the car make its way down the drive to the road, you see the taillights come on and you realize that happiness comes in many forms.

This time it came around in headlights and tail-lights.

The phone rings. You can relax. You can start missing them again.

The kids are HOME.

#2 Son

2009-06-08T20:23:00.002-05:00

The year of 1973 was a beginning in itself. New friends, new hobbies, new challenges, and a definite path for a career was opened up for me.

Little did I know how the decision to apply and being accepted into the IBEW LU479 sanctioned apprenticeship training program would shape my life as it did. The brotherhood spilled over into my personal life with a boat load of new friends.

A family of electricians so to speak. This particular family had roots that ran deep into the local union and its beginning and they accepted me for what I had to offer. Which at the time was very little, but like a stray dog, they kept feeding me and I kept hanging around.

Wesley Holst and his parents soon came to be my 'adoptive' family. These are the people that took me under their wings and taught me how to get outdoors and to find my way home. I'm talking about the hunting and fishing aspect of the outdoors and all that is covered by those activities.

Mom and Pop Holst as I came to call them were patient with me back then, but patience was something they learned with the raising of their son Wesley so it pretty much came second nature to them.

Over the years we have amassed more than 30 years of hunting, fishing, and camping together. You can only imagine some of the stories that have been shared around camp fires, boat docks, and cook outs.

Recent years have brought me another set of memories with the inclusion of my own son into the mix at deer camp, my fishing partner now, or just learning the different types of trees in the woods.

My experiences with the Holst family is being passed along to my son. You've most likely heard the saying..."if you've seen the son you've seen the father", well that goes for Wesley and Pop Holst. As different as individuals can be, the apple didn't fall very far from that tree either. Just make sure you get the rope you borrowed from Pop back to him rolled up like you found it...and Wesley is the same dog-gone way.

Going back to the career, Wesley and I both were accepted into the apprenticeship program the same year. At the time of swearing in the new apprentices, Pop stood with both of us that night. I am not sure if I ever thanked him for that gesture.

Wesley and I both worked our four years of apprenticeship with the same electrical contractor and finished the class in 1979. Through the years, we have always been there for each other through marriages, children, life, and death.

Somewhere along the line, Mom and Pop began referring to me as the #2 son. I wear that badge proudly still today even if we don't get to hunt and fish together as much as we did way back when.

Being #2 is just alright with me.

D.A.'Pop' Holst has gone on over to the other side of paradise now. Mom is hanging out in the old neighborhood...I probably need to call her soon to check in.

Me and Wesley, finally got to go fishing earlier this year. First time in over 20 years. The deer lease made some changes a couple of years ago and I had to drop off, but those memories still abide in the back of my mind.

Thanks to the Holst family for making me and allowing me to be the #2 son.

Jake

It Was a Classic Bassmaster 'Classic'

2009-06-07T20:20:00.009-05:00

Sports. Go ahead and pick one...

What sport comes to your mind with the subject surfaces?

It kind of depends on what time of year it is, right? But then not everyone follows sports, no matter which venue it may be.

My wife might just be onto something about my hobby of bass fishing being a full fledged obsession.

The world series of bass fishing held its championship tournament earlier this year in nearby Shreveport-Bossier City, Louisiana. What an opportunity for any fan of bass fishing to attend 'THE' event. Every year the Classic is held on different bodies of water and this year would be the Red River.

It would have been nice to attend the entire weeks worth of activities, but I opted to make the final day of the tournament. To see the winner take home the $500,000.00 dollar check, the trophy, bragging rights, and not to mention a few other perks that come with simply being the champion.

Take a few moments and read the rest of my story and you might get an idea of what this middle aged kid got to witness that one single day back in February this year.

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

I drove to Shreveport, Louisiana to experience the BASSMASTER 2009 Classic. Even though it was for the final and third day of the tournament, it proved to be a great choice. In fact, since BASS changed the timing of the Classic to the start of the season, it is my opinion that this only stokes the emotional fires of the Elite series anglers.

The BASSMASTER 2009 Classic is now just a memory and one I will visit every time I hear certain Elite angler names. The only regret I have is not being there for the entire week.

While visiting the EXPO, I almost won KVD’s boat from last year that was being given away. The catch was that my entry card along with several thousand other cards did not get picked.

How cool would that have been? Hitching up that wrapped rig and dragging it back home. Man oh man.

Yeah, you also had to be present to win which resulted in that corner of the exhibit hall being jammed packed with more than a few hopefuls. Someone from Morgan City, Louisiana whose name escapes me for now won the boat. After the drawing, the crowd dispersed back into and around the many great exhibits.

With information from connections through my freelance writing, I was able to gain entry to areas normally off-limits to the everyday bass angling fan. Let me tell you the experience was absolutely incredible. For those of you that only get to watch this on TV or on your computer, it’s just like that only BETTER!

Standing on the main floor watching the crowd file in, I noticed the set of banners hanging from the steel of this massive structure. These banners named the winners of each Classic since its inception. Makes you stop and think about how many casts and retrieves these banners actually represent and the winning lures that were lauded at the closing ceremonies.

My next stop would be the boatyard. If you have never been to a BASS event, you may not know that there is a team of people designated to clean each boat and tow vehicle prior to being presented to the public eye. I suppose a classic event would require a classic look. These few people give each rig a Classic Shine.

In writing this, I remember a few years ago when the Elite series visited my home lake of Sam Rayburn, my son and I found Skeet Reese washing his own rig at a local car wash. Yeah, we stopped and asked him if he needed any help, he instead stopped and gave us his autograph. Quite a guy that Skeet Reese, and today you can add 2009 World Champion Bass Angler to his name.

The boatyard itself is a bevy of activity. There were people with note pads, laptops, cameras, and microphones everywhere. This event is not going unnoticed, besides, it is the Classic.

Guys, this is so neat. Being able to pick your target and walk up and talk about their day on the water, snap a picture, and then move on to your next angler. These guys are so approachable and appreciative of the fan base.

Just a few that I got some quality time with are Alton Jones, Shaw Grigsby, Bill Lowen, Brian Schmidt, Bobby Lane, and Kelly Jordon.

Back inside along the edge of the main floor where I waited for the victory lap, I caught some motion out of my right eye. There were a couple of young boys there and they were wearing their custom fitted jersey of their favorite angler. Their choice was Kevin Van Dam.

Then I realized that these boys were twins.

It was right about now that I remembered that Kevin and his wife
Sherry, have a set of twins. You don’t think, maybe, yep, I turned around and checked out the few people behind me, Kevin and the Mrs. were standing there taking in the final moments of the weigh-in.

To me, that just defines the class that this man has and is made up of. Respect for the sport and supporting the very anglers that he battled with for the coveted title of World Champion, OR he may have been stoking his fire for the coming season. Either way, KVD is a force to be reckoned with.

The band of brothers that make up the Elite Series Tournament anglers is way more than what we see on the limited basis we are fed through the media. There is a respect for each other and a spirit that extends beyond the bodies of water that are stirred during each tournament. To see them huddled together in the media room discussing the day, the choices made on the water, or other personal stuff. These guys are truly Elite.

My thanks to Jaison and Ken for your consideration. What a Classic.

Jake

Personal Expressions

2009-06-06T17:39:00.010-05:00

People watching.

Watching people giving in to their personal expressions.

Everyone does it. Admit it. You're at your local mall sitting on one of the benches provided for just that, sitting.

Before you know it, you have sat there long enough while waiting on your spousal unit to finish her 'shopping' from her list of stores and you realize that you have seen that person that just walked by somewhere before.

Then you realize you have just seen what may have been the not so elusive, sensible shoe wearing, fast paced mall walker AND you have been at the mall way longer than you expected.

Your mind begins to wander back to what you would really be doing if you could.

Me? It would include a man-made reservoir and my bass boat.

However, the recent problem with my shoulder has me sidelined from the 'obsession' (as my wife calls it) and I find myself people watching and wondering if it was a conscious decision they made regarding what they are wearing.

I found out yesterday that the injury to my shoulder will require 4 weeks of physical therapy and THEN we will see what the next step will include. Fortunate for me, my rotator cuff was not torn but along with my bicep tendon, both are just scared....I mean they are frayed.

Now I am 'fraid' that I may be spending more time people watching.

If you think that touch of humor was kinda lame, just imagine the thoughts about the shoulder joint that includes a humerus bone. (that spelling probably ain't right but then this is my blog..)

Getting back to the people watching, I saw young divas that will someday be some young mans heart-throb but will most likely send them running for their lives if the t-shirt really defines them..."It's All About ME, Me Me Me.."

Oh, and the twenty-ish guy dressed in all black with a neon lime green tie. Only saw him twice. Maybe he and the young diva will find each other...

Being here in southeast Texas, you would think cowboy boots would be the fashion. I saw one memorable pair on a young lady in shorts. She seemed to be walking just fine also.

Hair color could be the main subject of another article, but will mention two individuals that won my memory award.

One was what I think is normally dark in color but certain portions of the facial hair was bleached the same as certain portions of the hair on their head...didn't quite understand what he was expressing. (saw this one only one time and the next one at least twice)

The runner up candidate was a stab at a Mohawk cut, wider on top above the ears and proceeded to a point above the forehead. The color was as I recall, a greenish purple chartreuse. This color might do pretty good as a deep diving crank bait on Toledo Bend lake....

What is it with the wearing the shorts so low on ones person?

Slabbing is what my son told me ...at least I think that's what they call it.

Long tailed shirts, to allow the secrecy of the brand of underwear they opted for. Shorts worn well below the standard waistline area which leaves about 6-8 inches of the shin showing. Because the new stylin-sneakers and socks take up the space from the floor to the same shin I just mentioned...

My son and I nicknamed a pair of guys dressed just this way...'Shins'. Think we saw them at least 4 times.

Mall walkers come in all shapes, sizes, and ages. Not to mention that when there is a pair of mall walkers, one is always the ALPHA walker. They pick the pace and the path when it comes to a crowd to get through or around.

I ran into a neighbor of ours last week who happens to be a local police officer and was working security for the mall. In our conversation, I asked him how long he had been doing the mall thing and his reply took me by surprise. Every Saturday for fourteen years.

I realized then that I really didn't get to the mall much. Especially on Saturdays.

So as I sit there doing my people watching, I find a familiar face in the crowd heading right to me. If you look really close, you can probably see a smile on my wife's face that is there only because she knows I am with her and not at the lake or on the river enjoying the great outdoors. That is worth everything to me at that moment.

Let me tell you a secret...I love that little woman more today than back in 1980 when I asked her to marry me. She even let me pick the date for our wedding. So I picked January 17, 1981.

You ask why January 17th? A couple of reasons. Seventeen is my lucky number, July 17 is her birthday, and deer season was over.

have yourself a great weekend...and thanks for stopping by.

jake

Junior High Memories

2009-06-04T19:43:00.006-05:00

Self preservation. Whatever it takes.

Kids are survivors. These are kids that survived a school year that was interrupted by Hurricane Ike back in September of 2008. Going back even further in 2005, Hurricane Rita interrupted their 5th grade year as well.

Survival of the fittest. With the fittest being those left standing which includes we parents and the teachers.

Thursday. Today. The next to the last day of school for my son. I come home and find out through casual conversation that tomorrows original scheduled half-day of school was...WAS going to be a 'free-dress' day and not the mandatory school uniform.

Seems an impromptu round of an eighth grade food fight at lunch took that freedom away from the eighth grade class of 2009. I figure if you were to line the kids up and ask them, they would say it was worth it.

I laughed so hard I cried...my visual interpretation of this action took over as I pictured the group of students all scrambling for shelter and hoping to avoid the flying ammunition of beans, milk, dipping sauces, and the obvious chicken nuggets that were witnessed to be soaring overhead.

My son described the first item he recognized from his vantage point at 'ground-zero' lunchroom, a carton of milk resembling a comet with a white billowy spraying tail of vitamin D.

On his quick step journey of ducking, dodging, and looking for cover, he spotted someone (who remains nameless at this writing) who had grabbed a complete tray of assorted lunch and heaved it backwards over their head.

I am happy to report that there were no fatalities among the students, but cannot say for sure about the status of the innocent bystander pair of teachers that were on lunchroom duty.

There was still some final exams to be taken so order had to be restored.

With the years of hands-on experience and in-depth training of organized chaos gone bad in 30 seconds or less, the rowdy crowd of eighth graders were quickly disarmed and aligned along the edge of the lunchroom walls.

Deep down, the teachers might have enjoyed this melee a bit more than the students did. If there were any security cameras available, there just might be some evidence of a quick rub of dipping sauce in an unsuspecting students hair or ketchup down the shirt collar.

Having been around many of these kids during Little League baseball and soccer games for those formative years prior to junior high school, I can assure you, there was no harm intended, just living out their youth like we did. Making memories for themselves. Just their version of stress relief.

The few, the proud, the food fighters.

Have a great summer guys. High School is just around the corner.

Jake

A Day on Lake Sam Rayburn

2009-06-01T10:28:00.019-05:00

Everyone has interests.

Interests that lead to what some may call a hobby or a favorite past time. My wife is bold enough to refer to one of my interests as being a full blown obsession. I am not clear as to how she came to this conclusion but I will allow it for the sake of argument. Besides, it was actually her idea for us (the family) to purchase the boat. A boat that would benefit the family and my obsession.

Bass fishing.

In defense of my obsession, I have to remind my dear little loving wife that this particular boat is the third one for me and that I still have a rod and reel that is older than the number of years we have been married.

After we came to be a happy couple together some 28+ years ago, I put aside my obsession and focused on family and career. Without going into great detail; the decision to purchase our boat involved a family trip to Rayburn a little over 5 years ago. A trip where she was unable to secure an outing in a boat that was available, she made the statement that maybe we should consider possibly getting our own boat.

I wound up with boat #3 in the driveway in four days...well hey, it was HER idea.

Trying to make up for 23 years of lost time on the water, we began looking for deals on fishing gear and boat stuff. It was during one of our excursions to the local Academy sporting outlet in search for new stuff that we stumbled across one of my soon to be newest fishing buds. Enter stage right, Lee Y. Wheeler III.

Lee is a local professional-bass angler that happened to be involved with a fishing expo being held right there in Academy. He was more than helpful with the many different questions we could throw at him. With a few quick queries of his own, Lee enlightened us on some obvious helpful items we would need.

As it turns out, Lake Sam Rayburn is a favorite lake that Lee loves to fish. Needless to say, our friendship quickly developed and lead me to a day of fishing with Lee for some up close and personal schooling on bass fishing. Did you catch the pun there...schooling on bass fishing..?? Boy, this is a tough crowd.

Man oh man, so much has changed since the time of my 14' flat-bottom aluminum boat, 20hp tiller steering outboards, black with yellow tail plastic ring worms from the local Gibson's store, up to today's fully rigged fiberglass bass boats that roam the area lakes and rivers.

I told Lee that I wanted to experience the day as a co-angler that fishes from the back of a professionals rig. The day would hold that and just a bit more than I bargained for.

Lee has 10 years of experience in several different tournament trails. Some of the trails he fishes in include the BFL, TTT, SETX Bass Federation trail, the BASS Open tournaments.

The boat of choice for Lee is a Ranger Z21 powered by a Yamaha 250hp outboard. Did I mention the nifty electronics on the boat? This was way more boat than this old country boy had ever been in, up close to, and seen in color.

Our day began with the required early morning meeting place. Early morning as in before the sun ever thought about making a little crack at dawn...and we head north to Rayburn. Conversation would run from family, faith, military service, and the closer we got to the lake...bass fishing.

Lee pretty much handed it to me that day all day long. I failed to hook up with a single fish, which is what I am used to so please keep your comments to yourself.

It was a day that Lee liked to refer to as a 'fun-fishin' day. No pressure, just out there beating the water to a froth and daring a fish to show an interest in our offerings of lures. I directed Lee to several of my favorite areas that I frequent and wanted to see how he would approach 'my' water.

It was sometime after lunch that our eyes turned towards the darkening clouds to the southwest. Dark clouds and July heat generally bring a different type of excitement to being on an open body of water. Today was not to be forgotten.

The clouds we were eyeing suddenly turned into a very definite 'square' formation which pretty much as soon as the square shape had appeared, a funnel cloud descended below the cloud just long enough to be seen, then disappeared about as quick as it had appeared.

My first question to Lee was simply, "Did you see that?!" and the response he gave still rings with cold chills.

"You better tie down your gear and don't forget to put on your life jacket."

My first experience at the power and speed of a 250hp outboard was more than welcome. The nearest shelter for us was a highway bridge that spanned the lake but was almost a mile north from where we were. We beat the biggest part of the summer storm to the bridge, but the wind and waves that worked us over for at least 40 minutes are etched into my memory bank.

The day ended with Lee teaching me how to fish a type of lure I hardly ever use. The conditions were perfect for us with the passing of the rain leaving the surface of the water slightly rippled. The 'professor' took the opportunity to show me up once more and catch fish in front of me.

All in all, it is time on the water that teaches. I still hear that phrase from Lee today for just about every situation in bass fishing that I quiz him on.

You have to spend time on the water.

I experienced the day as a co-angler. Fishing from the back of a boat, at the mercy of the pro-angler and fishing behind him. It is not as harsh as it sounds. Lee fished my 'water' that day and I learned a little something besides fishing skills. I learned that we are never too old to learn, if you are willing to just listen.

Lee, you can fish from the back of my boat anytime. Just let me know when you want to go. Semper Fi old buddy.

jake

Friends and Family

2009-05-29T10:29:00.006-05:00

Where would we be without our friends and our family? Mostly alone right? Outside of my immediate family, I am fortunate to have a unique set of friends. I got freelance writing friends, fishing friends, co-working friends, casual friends, close friends, and even the occasional family friend.

I am not sure if you can legally name your 'best' friend your BEST friend or even label a friend a 'best' friend. Who else are you going to call on in times of trouble except for a friend?

Not every one of my friends possess the qualities that will cover every situation that I manage to get myself into..and my record stands for itself when it comes to situations like these:

* Bass boats and broken ribs
* deer hunting, game wardens, community service, and God Almighty
* deer blinds, wasps, and woodpeckers

I guess the best kind of friend is one that will laugh with you and at you, at the same time. Seriously...you can't take yourself too serious, why should you, no one else does.

Besides, it's not all about you anyway.

I mean look at yourself, what's up with that hair? Do you have a mirror in the house? You could at least clean up before you come into my blog...good grief already.

Friend quality has to consist of at least but not limited to: humor, honesty, compassion, commmon interests, and a short memory. Well, 4 out of 5 ain't bad. That's what usually bites me first, the ability of my friends to remember those times you wish were never recorded in any shape, form, or fashion.

In defense of those 'memories', I plead guilty. Generally most of those that might have left a mark or two, ended with smiles all around and overall enjoyment by those not involved.

Why do people enjoy other folks misery so much?

We thrive on the mishaps of others and wonder how they made it this far and not being sidelined from the game of life. Reckon that's why we watch those TV shows of funny videos and bloopers.

After all, we are all of the same tribe. The human tribe. Some a little more advanced than others. Some just happy as they can be right where they are in life and couldn't care less or more about what is about to happen next simply because they don't know any better.

You hang in there Buttercup but realize that help ain't coming.

jake

Welcome

2009-05-25T07:55:00.005-05:00

Welcome to my blog. It's so nice of you to take time out of your day and visit...but then, you may have either stumbled across this blog due to a fat-fingered-keystroke-mistake OR you consciously wandered into my world. Eye-ther way, Welcome to my new little blog I entitled,

"IT IS WHAT IT IS".

I came across that phrase last week in a short meeting with my company's CEO. This meeting was a follow-up meeting from a previous meeting 2-weeks earlier. Meetings meetings meetings. We have meetings to select when to have meetings about when we should meet again meetings. It's no wonder now that our business is closing after 52 years of existance and a mere 86 employees locally will be displaced.

It is what it is.

Yeah, it's a sign of the times I suppose. Economic down turn. Global economy struggles. Strictly a business decision. It is what it is.

Oh sure, there will be changes. Possible changes in the name on my paycheck, type of work, place of work, but I am pretty certain that I will be working somewhere. We are still in the early stages of this 'announcement' and the final drop-dead layoff date has yet to be named. Seems we have some customers that need our product and will require a certain amount of our product to get through the tidal surge of this economic tsunami.

Who knows, maybe my freelance writing will take off OR at least the chance to apply more time to my writing will surface through this ordeal.

Do you have any pet peeves? A peeve that really just sets you off like nothing else? Maybe it's just my DNA or genetic makeup...wait they are the same thing right..? I tend to spot things that are just plain wrong.

Clocks with Roman numerals...and the Roman numeral for '4' is and has always been 'IV'. Guess the pre-teens in the sweat-shops in our third world factories never learned this...I am starting to see 'IIII' in place of the 'IV'.

The last pound of coffee you bought was probably only 13 ounces.

Who does the counting of the thread counts in our sheets?

Goin fishin doesn't mean you're gonna catch fish. That's why they call it fishin and not catchin.

Does losing really build character? Losing what? your mind? that extra weight? your keys?

How about the guy that is standing in line behind you at the convienence store at 5AM. You're the only ones in the store and the only other vehicle besides his is your truck with a boat...and he asks the 'question' of the day... "..you goin fishin?" DuH..

Hey, thanks again for stopping by. Remember our fallen veterans today for all our freedoms we enjoy. If you happen to be a veteran, Thank You for all that you have done for me. SALUTE.

jake