Monday Meanderings - 4.29.2013

Had a coffee crisis at our house this past week. After preparing everything for my evening coffee, I pressed the "Brew" button and the coffeemaker just sat there a moment, then beeped a couple of times like it was all through. Which, technically, it was because it had done everything it was going to do. I pushed, prodded, poked, plugged and re-plugged, but that coffeemaker had brewed its last. No coffee tonight, in my sugar.

I guess I passed some kind of addiction test, because I didn't head out immediately that evening for a new maker, though it was very, very tempting. I was able to calm my nerves sufficiently 'till the next morning; then, after several cups of extra-strong at Fran's, I headed over to Walmart to choose a new coffeemaker.

You may not be aware, but the current offering of coffeemakers is either the high-dollar, do-everything brewmeister machine, or the underpowered Mr. Coffees. Either that or the one-cuppers. I know that there's a strong following for that form of coffee communion, but I'm firmly in the multi-cup fellowship. So what to do?

I finally chose a mid-range Mr Coffee. It's more awkward to use than my old maker, but it brews a nice cup and that's what counts. Who knew coffee technology was so hard?

Speaking of Fran's, while I was there a car-hop from the Sonic drive-in next door came in to pick up an order, and yes, she was on skates. It was strange enough to see her skate out the door, but I cannot imagine how hard it was to navigate the rough, pot-hole-filled parking lot between the two establishments, Not to mention a high curb to hop over. I didn't see the spilled remains of a breakfast order when I left, so I guess she made it.

I noticed in the news that a gun manufacturer was leaving the mounting restrictions of an Eastern state to relocate... in my old home town of Breckenridge. I guess Governor Goodhair's ad campaign to people in the gun business is working. I have no trouble visualizing a warm welcome to a fire-arms manufacturer from the folks in Breck.

Saw a fellow panhandling the other day while wearing a Darth Vader mask. I'm not sure he thought that through - he wasn't getting any business. In fact, most, like me, were rolling up the car windows and locking the doors.

I have a question.

Just what is "traffic calming?" Are they going to play soothing music along the route? Plant a series of lovely flower beds? Put up works of art to peruse? IMWTK.

Old movie night

We watched an old movie the other night. An old Western movie. An old John Wayne Western movie. Barb went to the Public Library ( the poor man's Netflix) and checked out "The Searchers." Filmed in 1956 in the brand-new VistaVision format, the movie has become perhaps the penultimate John Wayne Western. Entertainment Weekly voted the film both the 13th Greatest Film of all time and the Greatest Western of all time. Maybe.

In case you didn't catch it in the theaters in the late 50's (or late nite on the movie channel), the movie's theme was suggested by the real-life kidnapping of nine-year-old Cynthia Ann Parker way back in 1836, the search by her family for her (particularly her uncle James Parker), and her reluctant restoration to "civilization" some twenty-four years later. It was only a suggestion.

But let me back up and set some groundwork here. Every Texas schoolchild and most history buffs know the Cynthia Ann Parker story and the subsequent saga of her renegade-turned-politician Comanche Chief son, Quanah Parker. Never mind that most of what we know is wrong, it is a basic Texas legend.

In 1954, a man named Frank LeMay published a serialized story in the Saturday Evening Post called "The Avenging Texans" and then published the story in a book named "The Searchers." LeMay's story was somewhat inspired by the Cynthia Ann Parker story and the book was well received. The movie rights eventually ended up with Cornelius Vanderbilt Whitney, a playboy businessman who wanted to be in the movies. Whitney immediately signed John Ford, a legendary director of that era, to make "his" movie (nobody ever told Whitney that Ford never, ever, shared his movies).

Ford immediately called up his repertory of actors, writers and technicians and set out for Monument Valley, where he made most of his westerns. So that's why, after the opening credit says, "Texas - 1868" the door opens to a vista never seen in the Lone Star State.

Then in early 2013, Glenn Frankel, the director of the School of Journalism at the University of Texas, published a book about the writing of LeMay's book, and the making of Ford's movie from that book, and for good measure included a meticulously-researched telling of the real Cynthia Ann and Quanah Parker story. Titled "The Searchers - the Making of an American Legend," the book entertains at many levels; as a history book, as a Hollywood Insider story,as  a biopic of Ford and Wayne and their complicated relationship, and as an interesting observation of  the ambiguities surrounding race, sexuality and violence in movies of that era.

And that's why we ended up watching a John Wayne Western the other night!

Monday Meanderings - 4.22.2013

Not ashamed to admit that we put the blanket back on the bed this past week. The weather has been wacky; the other day the heat came on in the early morning and the A/C kicked in that afternoon. Go figure. Altogether, it has been great weather for coffee on the patio.

Which is where I have been observing a little bit of drama, nature-wise. It is no surprise that the squirrels start barking whenever the neighbor's cats stroll into the yard; that's a pretty normal adversarial relationship. The jays don't care for the cats, either, and they really got noisy when the (very) occasional owl took up residence at the owl motel. Understandable. But what I can't figure out is what the doves have done to upset a little woodpecker!

The doves are sort of the cows of the bird world in our back yard. They are big, slow, and I'm convinced not too bright. By and large they just graze under the feeders, content to gather up the seed that gets scattered. Occasionally (and this is the not-too-bright part) they try to fly up to the feeders and cut out the middlemen, but they are too big to gain any kind of foothold, and their weight closes off the openings, besides. So by and large they graze in the grass, and then sit on a limb and chew their cuds, ignored by all the other birds. Until the woodpecker moved into the neighborhood, intent on running all the doves out.

They don't seem to have a problem with the redbirds, or the jays, or the finches, but then those birds don't hang around; they feed a few seconds and then fly off. Is there a nearby nest? Could be - I can't find it, though. It's an interesting little drama.

Barb and I sometimes stop by a little burger joint, and the other day we took a table next to a couple of aging hippies (takes one to know one), and soon realized they were having a heated argument - - about the children of Israel wandering 40 years in the wilderness! We weren't getting all the conversation, but it seems that one of them was dubious about the logistics of that many people on the move for that long, while the other one seemed to be taking the "them's the facts, jack" approach. When the conversation turned to Sodom and Gomorrah, we finished up and left.

Came across something interesting the other day. This bill is for 3 1/2 days, plus some extras.

 This bill is for half a day - outpatient. No extras.

Do not go gentle into that good night - Part 3 - Stories from the Family Tree

This is the third and final post in a series on notable deaths of ancestors in the Family Tree. The first post is here; the second post here.

Larkin Bramblett is a mystery ancestor. If he is who we think he is, then I can trace my mother's Bramblett line all the way back to England. The problem is, I cannot, at this time, prove that Larkin was actually my great-great grandfather. But his story is interesting, nevertheless.

Here is a transcript of a Coroner's Inquest, held on June 8, 1838, upon the occasion of the death of Larkin. I have attempted to add sufficient punctuation and spell correction to make it more readable, but it remains a lengthy and quaint document. Especially the first sentence:

"An inquisition taken at the House of Newton Bramblett in the district aforesaid on the 8th day of June in the year 1838 before me, Thomas Wright, a Justice of Quorum for said District, upon view of the body of Larkin Bramblett, late of the said District then and there lying dead; upon the oaths of Joseph Brown Esqr., Thos. M. Young, William Holbert, Abner Night, Charner Night, Jas. Meador, Alvin Meador, Larkin Stapp, Thos. Stapp, Thos. Hilton, Absolom Harris & George Bryant, good and lawful men of the said District, who being charged and sworn to inquire for the state when, where, how, and after what manner the said Larkin Bramblett came to his death, do say upon their oaths that Hiram Holcombe of the state and District aforesaid on yesterday evening the 7th inst. between sundown & dark did feloniously, voluntarily, and of his own malice aforethought with a certain shot gun shoot and wound the said Larkin Bramblett in the breast, neck, and head of which said mortal wounds the aforesaid Larkin Bramblett then and there instantly died; and so the said Hiram Holcombe then and there feloniously killed and murdered the said Larkin Bramblett against the peace of this state.

In testimony, whereof as well I, the said justice of Quorum, as the jurors aforesaid to this inquisition have interchangeably put our hands and seals the day and year first above written Joseph Brown, Thos. M. Young, William Halbert, Abner Knight, Charner H. Knight, Jas. W. Meador, Alvin Meador, Larken Stapp, Ths. Stapp, Ths. Hilton, A. W. Harris, Geo. Bryant, Thos. Wright.

Evidence taken by the jury of Inquest held over the body of Larkin Bramblet late of Laurens District:

An examination of the body shewed that it had been shot with small shot such as are commonly used for killing squirrels. There were twenty-six or more shots which entered the body in his breast, neck and head, two of which were above his eyes There was no other appearance of violence upon the body.

Spilsby C. Brown was sworn, and on his oath says that yesterday evening the 7th June 1838, Larkin Bramblett, the deceased, came to this deponent and requested him to go and help him get some hogs out of his field; that he went and found a number of hogs in the field that they run or drove out some ten or twelve head. They caught one, the last they saw, near Hiram Holcomb's fence, which is a dividing fence between the said Holcombe and Bramblett; that they dragged the hog to the fence near the corner of the field in the low grounds of the creek where the bushes and briars are very thick outside of the field they laid down a few rails for the purpose of putting the hog into Hiram Holcomb's corn field.

Just as they raised up with the hog, Larkin Bramblett, having hold of the head and this deponent of the hinder part of the hog, a gun was fired near to them and in front of where Bramblett stood, who fell back with a groan and never spoke. This deponent spoke and said, “In the name of God, who had done this?” and cast his eyes in the direction of where the report of the gun came from and saw the smoke rising but saw no person, the bushes being quite thick in that direction. He stepped a few steps around the corner of the field and saw Hiram Holcombe standing near a tree in the act of loading his gun in great haste. He says it was between sundown and dusk but entirely light enough for him to see distinctly that it was Hiram Holcombe, whom he has lived near all of his life and is well acquainted with, and that he could not be mistaken in the man.

This deponent, believing that Holcombe was loading his gun to shoot him also, he ran off as fast as he could and never spoke to Holcombe nor Holcombe to him. He says it was about fifteen steps from where he and the deceased were standing to where he saw the smoke rise but that Holcombe, when he saw him, was some ten or twelve steps further off. He also says that it was Hiram Holcomb's hogs that were in Larkin Bramblet's field and which they were putting out. The deponent has no hesitation in saying that it was Hiram Holcombe, of Laurens District in the State of South Carolina, who shot the gun which killed Larkin Bramblett of the same place.

Taken the 8th day of June 1838 by me, Thos. Wright, J.Q."

Monday Meandering - 4.15.2013

Happy Tax day! What? You haven't started? Good luck with that.

I'm pleased to report that the big pecan out front leafed out this past week. I attribute it fully to the earnest conversations we had daily.  When the first leaves sprang forth, there was applause. Well done.

There are a number of small electronic signs around town that convey city-related messages, much like the big TxDot signs do for the highway. This week they all say, "Don't drink, then walk, drive or bike." I guess all that's left is to run. "Why yes, officer, I am jogging drunkenly down the street. It's the only option left available to me."

Went to the coast this past week. I'm pretty certain that by now you understand that I enjoy being AT the coast, but really dislike GOING to the coast! Wildflowers were less abundant this trip than they have been on other Spring trips. The roadsides below Lockhart, down to about Kenedy had a good representation, but nothing out in the fields. The only area that had a wide-spread blanketing of flowers was along the toll road; delightful swaths of bluebonnets. Of course, at 85mph, they tend to be a blur.

I've mentioned that it is good to be in the oil bidness - especially in the region over the Eagle Ford Shale in South Texas.  If you are not in the oil play, you can get rich renting travel trailers and modular housing! Or space to park them!

We got a free upgrade at the beach condo where we stay; moved up to the 4th floor. It's just like the 1st and 2nd floors - our normal rental range - but you can see more of the ocean since you are above all the neighboring properties. This unit was just a tad fancier than the ones we normally stay in, as well.

I did not win any points with Barb on this trip. While looking over the accommodations, she said, "I wish we could find a place with a king-size bed - and recliners." I said, "I know of just such a place. Home."

Saw this on a vehicle at Port A. I need me one of these signs!

Do not go gentle into that good night, Part 2 - Stories from the Family Tree

In Part 1 of this series, I touched on a number of ancestors who died in some military conflict. Sometimes, the victims were non-combatants. Take, for example, the fate of Gerard Munson, Barb's great-great grandfather.

Late in the evening of March 22, 1864, Gerard was riding on his horse in the woodland pasture of the family plantation, when he was shot in the head and killed. His body was not found until the next morning, and his horse was found tied to a tree about one-half mile from his body, which had been very carefully arranged. Camp Wharton, [Texas] a Confederate Army camp, was located about four miles from Oakland Plantation and soldiers from that camp regularly shot and stole hogs from the plantation. Apparently, Gerard came upon just such activity.

Colonel J. Bates, commander of  the Confederate forces in that area, immediately began an investigation of the murder, and affidavits taken accused a soldier named Joseph Pankey (who had suspiciously deserted camp) of being the man who fired the fatal shot.

Colonel Bates sent Gerard's brother George, a Private in the Confederate army (home on leave at the time), and an unnamed Lieutenant in pursuit of Mr Pankey. Evidently they were successful. Sarah Munson, wife of Mordello, brother to George and Gerard, wrote in her diary on 18 October 1864, "George is here. He came over yesterday with those men who killed Pankey."

Sometimes the perpetrator is not found however, and the death remains a mystery:

Thomas Starnes, grandfather of my grandmother Anderson, went to the barn to see about the livestock one night. The next morning, he was found hanging from a tree limb. Grandmother said, "He was to testify in court the next day against a man. Others have different opinions, but I never heard them."

Or there is the family story about John Abraham Wade - a very distant relative. He was murdered in 1925 and his killer never apprehended. Many years later, his son-in-law, Wayne Cartwright, received an anonymous phone call from the killer, expressing regret. Cartwright never told his wife, Wade's daughter, about the phone call, revealing that information to the family only after her death.

There are no Hatfields and no McCoys in either of our families, but I do have the Smiths and the Durdens. In 1870, Scion Smith married into the Boyd family, most likely in South Carolina. After some time, Nancy and Scion moved a few miles east into Georgia, where Scion became involved in a feud with some members of the Durden family. A Durden was killed and that family placed the blame squarely on Mr. Smith. Threatened by the Durdins, Smith kept at least one of his children with him all of the time. However, one day when the child had gone to the house, a shot was heard and Smith was found dead in his field. A breastwork of brush had been built in a fence corner, and the murderer hid there.

It wasn't too long after that before another of the Durden's met an untimely death. Wylie, the oldest son of Scion and Nancy, was accused and the threats were so severe that the Smith family moved back to Laurens County in South Carolina until things quietened down. Wylie married there and settled down, but it wasn't too long before a detective came to Laurens County.

The family narrative is that the officer concealed his identity by pretending to be deaf and dumb, and wandered around over the community working up the case. Just how he did that and maintain this cover is up for conjecture, but he left and in about two weeks officers came to Wylie's house and arrested him. He was carried back to Georgia to stand trial, a lengthy process, but was finally exonerated and lost no time leaving Georgia - and the Durdens - behind..

And then of course, there was the relative who died in a shoot-out with the police - Charles Arthur "Pretty Boy" Floyd. I told his story in "Skeleton in the closet."

In the next and final part of this series, I want to share an inquest held in June of 1838 by the Justice of the Quorum of Laurens District South Carolina - Mr. Thomas Wright - regarding the body of Larkin Bramblett,  "late of the said District, then and there lying dead."

Monday Meanderings - 4.8.2013

Well, yes, we did take the blanket off the bed a trifle early this year. Should have learned from that cold snap last week that it could still be a bit chilly in April here. However, since the cold front brought about 3 inches of rain over a two-day period, we are not complaining!

We had some business to conduct in one of the downtown glass towers this week. Hadn't been downtown in a long time (and have no desire to go back soon). Had to park in a garage in the adjacent block; then when we left I was completely turned around. Parking garages do that to me. I'm beginning to understand how the "Missing Elderly" notices come about. All it takes is a few circles in a downtown parking garage and the next thing you know you are in Tulsa looking for something familiar.

There was an old newspaper man in Abilene named Frank Grimes who would muse in print about the pending arrival of spring. There might have been every indication that a new season was at hand, but he concluded there was a problem if "The old mesquites ain't out!" Well, the mesquites are out in Austin (unlike West Texas you have to hunt long and hard for a mesquite tree around here). But the pecans are not; at least not my pecans. To be sure, other pecans around the neighborhood are still barren, but I'm ready for my pecan - the big one out front - to leaf out. It had a hard fall, and I worry about it. I'm thinking about dragging a chair out there so I can sit and and keep it company and watch for the first leaves. Will a watched tree leaf?

A news article said someone trashed the DMV driver's license facility. The one on North Lamar. The one nestled up to the state headquarters of the Highway Patrol. You know, where all the State Troopers hang out. One might think that someone would notice. Just saying.

Standing at a CVS checkout counter next to a rack of various gift cards, I noticed that you can load your Starbucks card with as much as $500. I like my coffee, but I'm thinking that might be just a tetch too much.

Do not go gentle into that good night, Part 1 - Stories from the Family Tree

Genealogy, by its very nature, is a record of life – and death. Those of us who compile this stuff are interested in the where and the when and the how of our ancestors; we want to know dates and places and where the bodies are buried. We endlessly comb through the records, looking for missing pieces of the puzzle, and when we find something, we make a new entry in the database. It's the entries labeled Died: that have caught my attention recently, and some are quite compelling.

Since my family tree goes all  the way back to European immigrants, there are a lot of wars and military battles between then and now. Commonly, I find records that state "so-and-so died at Lexington," or Concord, or Bunker Hill. Others might cite Gettysburg, Shiloh, or Vicksburg. Still others New Orleans or York. More than one ancestor lost his (or her) scalp to Indians. I mentioned some of them here.

And of course, there are a great many "Died" dates between the periods of 1914 to 1918 and of 1939 to 1945. You met Virgil Starnes in “Born under a wandering star,” and his wife Marien in “The Moose Story.” Virgil and Marien had two sons, Arley and Jessie. Jessie died in Canada of unknown causes at age 18. A few years later, Arley joined the Canadian Air Force, and in 1942 was dispatched to England for duty with a bomber squadron.

Shortly after his arrival, Arley was assigned to a Hallifax Bomber crew and flew his first and last mission. The bomber crashed close to the small village of Palterton, Derbyshire. Three airmen, including Arley, perished. There is a small memorial in Palterton to honor the men who gave their lives, as well as the two local villagers who were seriously burned in a vain attempt to rescue them from the flaming wreckage.

Many deaths in the family record are the result of accidents; Bertha Starnes, one of the “inmates” in the orphanage in San Dimas (mentioned here), was killed in a motorcycle accident sometime in the 1930s.

John Russell Hall was struck and killed while jogging. Ten years earlier, his father, Dr. Thomas Russell Hall drowned while scuba diving in Possum Kingdom Lake. He was not the first in the family to drown, by the way.

Bad luck seems to run in the Hall family - a prominent line on my mother's side: R. L. Hall, A cousin once removed, died in a small plane crash near Cleburne while on company business. Nineteen years later his brother died in the same manner, outside of Jasper, Texas - again on a business trip in a company plane.

Loren Starnes, youngest brother of my grandmother, was killed at age 20 in a hunting accident. My grandmother said, "Him and a friend was out hunting one morning. His friend said he started to get in the car and he had the gun in his hand some way or 'nother and it slipped, or his foot slipped and the gun went off and shot him in the chest."

James Boyd, an early ancestor in my mother's line met a particularly gruesome fate when he was accidentally killed in his mill while it was in operation.

And Allen Stepp Boyd (there are a lot of Boyds in this tree as well) died in a construction accident – an explosion, no less- while working on the Panama Canal.

Burrough Todd, almost too distant to be called a relative at all, according to the family record did not want to go to school one day, but his parents insisted and put him on the school bus. On the way to school the bus was struck by a railroad train. All perished.

There are more untimely deaths; in part 2, I will focus on some relatives that met their fate at the end of a rope, or maliciously, at the hands of others. Not uncommon in the frontiers of America.

Monday Meandering (on Tuesday) - 4.02.2013

Well, the Re-tire deal didn't work out. When I came out this morning the car had four flat tires. Actually, flat is not descriptive enough; the rims were bare, sitting on four piles of rubber dust! Of course, Pedang didn't answer his phone or text me back, so the deal is off! If you see the little weasel let me know,

Why yes, the weather did turn cold after moving the indoor greenery outdoors and putting out the tomato plants! A couple of days in the direct sun (before I could get the sun shade up) and a couple of nights in the low 30's did some damage, but I think everything will survive.

I mentioned the trend where panhandlers are flying mega-signs. The guy who had the sign that started "All the musicians have come to SXSW to show the world how good they are, but I don't have the time or the $$$ to indulge....." was back the other morning with another lengthy message that started "Okay, this is day 7 of..." and that's all I got. This time I was so intrigued, I circled around and got in the left-hand turn lane in order to be next to where he was working. My plan was to give him a couple of bucks and take a picture of his sign. Alas, traffic fortunes were against me on two attempts to get close; both times I was too far away and a line of cars behind me wouldn't let me stop.

On my way home the other day I stopped to get the car inspected. I debated about it a bit, because I really needed a restroom break, but I didn't want to go all the way home and then come all the way back. The place we go has been really snappy previously, so I stopped. You know where this is going, don't you? New guy. New, chatty guy. New, really, really chatty guy.

News Release

For Immediate Release
April 1, 2013

INNOVATIVE TIRE COMPANY ANNOUNCES BLOG ACQUISITION

The Re-Tired Rubber Reclamation Company (dba Re-Tired) announced today that agreement has been reached to become the new owner and publisher of the wildly popular blog RetiredInAustin. Speaking from corporate headquarters in Buda, Texas, Hugo Pedang, Vice President for Corporate Conglomeration, said that the acquisition was a major step in presenting the unique story of the Re-Tired Rubber Reclamation Company and its innovative process for reclaiming and re-using rubber worn from automobile tires during normal driving.

"Our vacuum trucks will soon be as ubiquitous as the Google Street View cars," said Pedang, "sucking up the millions of pounds of rubber that have been worn down on the nation's streets and highways.  Once reclaimed and reprocessed by our secret and innovative patent-pending process, that previously wasted rubber will be used to recreate new tires, marketed under the "Re-Tired" brand."

"RetiredInAustin, which will soon be rebranded as Re-TiredInAustin, is our first effort in getting the word out to the networked world. We believe social media is the market place of the future, and in short order we plan to have other sites in major markets, such as Re-TiredInDallas and Re-TiredInTulia to help get the word out. Getting Re-Tired is the way to go, wherever you are!"

The previous author and publisher of RetiredInAustin, who wishes to remain anonymous, said, "I figured these guys couldn't be any less interesting than I've been the last couple of years, so why not? Plus, I got a new set of tires out of the deal; if they will get me there, I'm headed to the coast."