Monday Meanderings - 12.31.2018

New Year's Eve.

Traditionally, folks who write blogs and post items on social media and publish news articles and the such, reflect on the year coming to a close. The good, the bad and the ugly.

I'm not real big on reflection; never been much on omphaloskepsis.  I'll save you the effort of looking it up. "Contemplation of one's navel as an aid to meditation." Didn't believe me, did you? You just had to check.

But it has been an interesting year. 

We started it standing on the beach near Monterrey Bay, watching the sun set in the Pacific. In early May, we proudly watched Jericho graduate from Lipscomb, prepared to go out and change the world. We're confident he will.

In April, the local Learning Ally studio transitioned to a "Virtual Community," and I no longer made the twice-weekly trek to the studio (much to Barb's dismay). However, I was spending a lot of time shut up in my "recording studio."

In late May, we went to Lubbock, by way of Abilene. Abilene holds no interest to us these days; we normally skirt around it coming and going to Lubbock. This trip, we spent the night there going, and passed by the ACU campus on the way back - on our way to Breckenridge and the Lake Cabin. Last time we were in Breck was in the Fall of 2009 for my 50th High School Reunion. Like us, the town is aging.

In June, my first "serious" audioboook - about the Battle of Vicksburg - went to retail on Audible.com

In July, Barb lost her brother. And the day after the funeral, we set sail on a long-ago-booked cruise to Alaska that included a train trip to the interior and Denali National Park. Lows and Highs. Literally.

In September, we went to the Lake for Labor day, resuming a long-standing tradition that was rudely interrupted the previous year by hurricane Harvey.

In November, my "most ambitious" audioboook - about the Alaskan Inner Passage - went to retail on Audible.com


Watched Grace play in a tennis tournament at the Newcombe Tennis Ranch in Mew Braunfels, and the following week gathered the clan for Thanksgiving. Our house runneth over.

Strewn liberally throughout the calendar, bracketing these major events, were days filled - and I do mean filled - with doctor appointments, ESL and Citizenship lessons, sound system events and the mundane notations of things to do and places to be. 

Phew!

Planning a quiet (neighbors permitting) New Year's Eve.  Alexa! Wake me up when it's 2019!

Happy New Year.

Monday Meanderings - 12.24.2018

And a very merry Christmas Eve to all of you. Mamma may not be in her 'kerchief, nor I in my cap, but settling down for a long winter's nap sounds like a great idea.

Speaking of Mamma, this past week Barb had the notion to Google all of the addresses of houses we have lived in. Google Street View, and sites like Zillow provide a virtual time machine. You (sometimes) can go home again.

The summer Barb and I got married, I was temporarily working in Dallas. We rented an apartment in a complex on Mt. Rainer Street near (but not in) the posh River Oaks section, in southwest Dallas. The complex (and River Oaks) has aged a bit, but so have we. That's our first-ever home right there in the front. Apartment 101.

Before school started, my company moved us back to Abilene ahead of schedule and housed us in a motel for a couple of weeks while we waited for an apartment behind J. W. and Delno Roberts house to become available. The motel hardly counts, and the apartment, just off the campus, is now a parking lot - so no pictures -  but it was our first official residence in Abilene. Our neighbors were former roommate and future brother-in-law Thayne Cuevas and almost Cuevas family member Ronny Feike.

After my graduation, we moved away from the campus to a furnished duplex on High Street. Our landlords were a couple from Highland who had several rental properties. Our neighbors were Barb's cousin Nell and new husband Dalton Ford.

My boss told us about a house across the street from him in the north-western section of town that was available and priced to sell quickly. The owner was the former football coach for Hardin-Simmons University. He was former, because H-SU had folded the football program, thus the need for a quick sale. We bought the house for $9,000, which included major appliances and an extra-long couch with re-enforced springs. The coach was a BIG man.

Interestingly, the Google Street View currently shows an empty lot to the north of that house. My recollection was there was an adjacent house - but it was on the corner. This is the house we lived in when our children were born.

Perhaps the most frightening day of my life was the day we came to Austin to house-hunt and found out what it was going to cost to live in this town. A realtor we worked with spelled it out rather plainly and parked us in a small unfurnished rental house on Kamar Drive, off Highway 183 in what was then north Austin. The best thing I can say about that house was that there was a huge open space behind it that was a great place for flying kites. That space is now Charles Maund Toyota.

Shortly after we moved in, the owner informed us that he was putting the house up for sale. We were not interested and we soon had to deal with realtors bringing people by to see the house. We got in a bit of revenge, however. One potential buyer was examining the in-wall panel heater and asked if it kept the house warm. Sweet little Rob spoke up and said, "No. It gets really, really cold in my room." Yesss!!

When Barb looked this house up, she saw that it was on the market again. There were pictures and descriptions of recent remodeling (with central heat and A/C now) and a property value of a third of a million dollars!

We went looking for a place not for sale, and moved to a very nice duplex on Dryfield, on the eastern side of 183. It had a fireplace, tile floors, and older neighbors who were never home. The couple in "A" traveled. A lot. As I recall he was a sales rep in the jewelry business, always on the road, and she went with him.

Glen Neans was a local home-builder who attended Brentwood, and he assured us that he could get us into a home of our own - and he did, though his Superintendent stopped returning our calls at some point in the process. And in March of 1973 we moved into our 2nd, and probably final, house. It cost us 3 times the one we bought from the Hardin-Simmons coach, and it was at least 3 times scarier to sign those papers, but we're still here, so I guess it worked out well. And yes, we have grass and shrubs and trees and such now.

And here's a challenge. Can you locate all of your residences?

Monday Meanderings - 12.10.2018

Your hometown probably does not have to be a major metropolis to suffer from the scooter syndrome.  You know, when there are battery powered "dockless" scooters scattered on every downtown corner. Or, in the case of college towns, they are also scattered on every campus corner, and all roads leading to the campus. And if you live in Austin, you may find them scattered far from the city core and far from the University as well.

We live more than 8 miles from the center of the UT campus and more than 10 miles from the 6th and Congress intersection, but scooters have made it as far out as Braker Lane - and further.

The other day, I started north on the I-35 access road only to encounter a long line of cars led by a police vehicle with flashing lights. Thinking that I had joined the end of a funeral procession, I settled in for a slow journey. Then I noticed that cars were cautiously passing the police vehicle, obeying the emergency lights that were flashing to indicate to move to the left lane.

When I drew even with the police car, I saw that the officer was tailing a dude on a scooter, who was cruising, slowly, northward on the access road. Evidently the scooterist was proceeding legally; the officer was merely providing safe escort, not pulling him over. The dude turned right on Yeager, heading toward Gold's Gym, and the officer bid him a safe journey, and we all continued north.

According to people who keep up with these things, there are more than 8,000 scooters strewn on the highways and byways of Austin, and more on the way with Lyft's announcement that they are adding another 500 Lyft-branded scooters to the mix. Recent estimates indicate that the number of trips has reached 100,000 per month. Prices vary, but at a typical $1.00 per rental and 15 cents a minute, the revenue makes this a very lucrative industry.

The City of Austin is scrambling to figure out how to deal with this phenomenon; it's clear that the scooters are popular, and based on the growing numbers, well used. There are problems, however, such as when scooters end up in piles of pedestrian-threatening obstacles. And there is the small matter of falling off and breaking something.

The potential for injury has caught the attention of the CDC, and they have announced that they will be conducting its first study of the health risks of dockless scooters by looking at the incidents and injuries that occurred in Austin over a 60-day period this fall, from September 5 to November 4. It will be the first study of its kind, focusing “on 37 EMS calls and 68 scooter injuries."

I confess that every time I see someone cruising down the street on one of these things, I think, "Where were these scooters when I was young enough to ride one?"  And then I remember the injuries and EMS calls, and know that I would end up a statistic in a CDC report if I tried.

Sigh.

Monday Meanderings - 12.3.2018

You may have seen an earlier Facebook post about my running gag where I would yell, “Alexa, what is.....” and pose some question to Amazon's ubiquitous Echo assistant. Problem was, of course, I didn't have such a device installed. I then would then complete the shtick by grumbling about what a poor helper Alexa was.

While assembled at our house over the Thanksgiving Holidays, my devious children installed an Echo device for real one night after I went to bed. And yes, I did call out, “Alexa, what is the temperature?” the next morning. And to my enormous surprise, she answered me!!

So now we have a new member of the family. Whenever we want to hear the weather forecast, or a joke, or the day's headlines, Alexa is quick to deliver. So far she's hooked up with her neighbor the Nest thermostat, and she's made herself at home in my calendar. Pretty sure she's checked out the Ring doorbell - but has declined to be friends because of age differences. I know the TV is  on her agenda, and with a little assistance she's keen on talking to the garage door opener. Such an an alert and active member of our family!

And she's so polite and helpful, one must say, "Thank You" after her response - but she must be of a younger generation. She never says "You're welcome."

And, she's actually a little too alert. We have learned that - as with most young children - sometimes it's necessary to spell things in her presence. Specifically, her name - else she merrily joins in the conversation unbidden, or speaks when not spoken to.

Plus, she has friends in high places. It seems I get daily reminders from Amazon headquarters, with lists of topics Alexa is eager to discuss with us. Such as:

• "Alexa, where's the nearest bank?"
• "Alexa, what's on my shopping list?"
• "Alexa, what can I make with chicken and spinach?"
• "Alexa, what are my reminders this weekend?"
• "Alexa, what's up?"
• "Alexa, what were yesterday's scores?"
• "Alexa, play the radio."
• "Alexa, what's the date?"

  And, of course, there's, "Alexa, order the new Sheriff Longmire book for my Kindle."

Please don't tell my wife about that one.

Monday Meanderings - 11.19.2018

The decline and fall of Sears Roebuck and company has been a long time in the making. Store closings, product lines sold off, strange business alliances and stranger business decisions. The company is officially in bankruptcy, with little chance of coming out. There are no more Sears stores in Austin.

Frankly, I have not shopped at Sears for a number of years. Evidently I am not alone. Over the years, though, Sears played a significant role in the commerce of my life, beginning with those wonderful catalogues. I doubt if my grandchildren can conceive of receiving a 300+ page catalog in the mail and referring to it for the essentials needed for almost every aspect of your life; appliances, furnishings, clothing and auto.

The big book was more than just a way to order what you needed - it was an education. Helpful notes about how to order, what to choose, tools you would need, parts descriptions. And over the years the spectrum of goods offered was staggering - from autos to houses, and anything else one might want.

And the Christmas Wish book. How many hours were spent poring over the pages, making and re-making the Christmas list?

I was a Sears customer long before I married - tires, batteries, dorm hot plates and the such. Barb and I bought our bedroom suite from Sears when we moved into our first apartment. We still have it. We bought refrigerators, washers and dryers over the years. Mattresses for the bed, clothing for our kids, tires and batteries for the car. Tools and hardware for the house, the treadmill we still (occasionally) walk on, the chest freezer presently out in the bonus room.

So why did we stop shopping at Sears? All of the factors that eventually brought it down. High prices, diminishing product lines, heavy competition - but mostly it was unprofessional sales staff, and poor customer service. The Home Depot on the other end of the shopping center was always "no problem." Sears always seemed to say "we can't do that."

So farewell Sears. We will miss the old you.

Monday Meanderings - 11.12.2018

Watching the election unfold this week reminded me of my small contribution to the process - way, way back when I was a paperboy in Breckenridge Texas.

Whenever a major election took place, the election headquarters for Stephens County was in the County Courthouse, fittingly enough. But the newspaper office - several blocks away - had the teletype machines and connections to the State headquarters in Austin.

So on election nights, the Breckenridge American called in all the paperboys and we couriered the latest counts from the courthouse to the paper office, and carried State news to the folks in the courthouse. It was a high-priority, don't-stop-for-anything process, and we competed fiercely for the shortest elapsed time covering the distance, skidding our bikes right up to the paper office door, hopping off to hand the latest count (which was tabulated by court-house staff hand counting paper ballots). Crowds would gather on the street in front of the paper office to see the numbers change on the blackboard (borrowed from the high school) which was positioned in front of the building.

Inside, the counts would get forwarded electronically (if the teletype line was up, which was not always guaranteed) to Austin. And sometimes, the publisher just picked up the phone and called Austin. It was a lot faster. And state-wide results would come back the same way, and the available paper boy would take this information to the courthouse - at a much more leisurely rate - and hang around until they had counted another batch of local ballots.

In Stephens County, it didn't take long to count the ballots. Breckenridge was, and still is, the only incorporated town in the county, and the folks in communities like Caddo, Gunsight and Necessity came into town to vote, if they cared. So it the excitement generally ended early, which is okay, because it was a school night.

The one exception to that was the year Jack Cox, a local boy who had gone off to Houston to be in the oil business ran against Price Daniel for governor of Texas. Everyone hung around for a while to see how that came out state-wide. I was in college by then, but came back to town with my journalism-major roommate to watch democracy in action. Jack lost handily, and we went off to the Dairy Delight to check out the girls. So much for politics.

Monday Meanderings -

Happy Election Day eve - or as I prefer to call it - The National IQ Test. Choose wisely.

Where did all the pecans go? Earlier this year the branches were laden and drooping - so much so, I was concerned about limbs breaking, as they are want to do. But the season is drawing to a close and the total crop is but a small grocery sack full at this point. Of course, the Vietnamese lady has gathered some, but I've been pretty proactive with the gathering.

Saw the other day that the lady who invented the green bean casserole passed away.  I was astounded to learn that that dish was invented in the Campbell Soup test kitchen. I thought it was part of the Creation Story in Genesis. You know, "Then God said, Let us make mankind in our image, and whip up some green bean casserole to go with those tasty chickens we created the other day." Really. Who knew?

Which makes me think of church pot-lucks, which are largely a thing of the past. Not when I was growing up, though. I have especially fond memories of the church ladies in Breckenridge who would gather regularly for quilting bees - though I'm not sure they used that term. But the quilts (in their frames) were suspended from the ceiling in a couple of the class rooms in the church basement, and they would gather to quilt, and visit, and eat lunch together.

The Junior High was just a few blocks down the hill, and on those days I would walk up for my share of chicken and green bean casserole, announcing my presence with a hearty, "Hello, you lucky people."

I don't know what they did with the quilts. Gave them to needy people, I guess. Sent them to missionaries. Maybe with left-over green bean casserole.

Monday Meanderings - 10.29.2018

I'm going to stop blogging about weather and such. It seems whatever I mention jumps up and bites us - like cold, and rain and Boil Water declarations.

Yes, A Boil Water mandate. Sunday night we went to bed hydrated and Monday morning we woke to find Austin plunged into widespread and prolonged mild inconvenience.

Here's a rough time line of events this week:

Monday, October 22 - 6:00am -- City holds press conference, announces immediate mandatory Boil Water declaration. Really? 6AM in the morning??

Monday, October 22 - 7:00am -- Social Media begins showing pictures of bare grocery store shelves; proclaims that there is no bottled water to be had. I take comfort that I filled the coffee pot last night, so my morning coffee is pre-ban, and therefore safe.

Monday, October 22 - 8:00am -- HEB says, "We got this. Give us a few hours to get the trucks on the way.

Monday, October 22 - 9:00am -- Next Door member rats out corner Texaco station charging $30 for 12-pack of bottled water,

Monday, October 22 - 10:00am -- Attorney General Up_for_Re-election files price gouging suit against corner Texaco. $20,000 fine. Per instance. Bring your receipts, folks.

Monday, October 22 - 11:00am -- We have boiled and set aside about 5 gallons of water. As has every other Austin Water utility customer.

Monday, October 22 - 11:15am -- Social Media: "Attention Aggies. You need to let the water COOL before you drink it!"

Monday, October 22 - 11:30am -- Social Media: Most Starbucks are closing. "Sorry, can't deal with this."

Monday, October 22 - 12:00pm --  Chuy's: "Of course we are open. We know how to boil water. You want queso to go with that burrito?"

Monday, October 22 - 4:00pm -- City of Austin: "Stop! You are using too much water! We can't keep up!" Well, duh! Every water customer just drew out about 5 extra gallons of water! What did you think was going to happen?

Tuesday, October 23 - 9:00am -- City of Austin: Press briefing explains that problem is "that our water source has had millions of gallons of silt and debris-laden water dumped into it from upstream, and the treatment plants are struggling with water that is 400% 'dirtier' than usual and falling way behind." No indication that water is actually not safe to drink. "Matter of overabundant caution."

Tuesday, October 23 - 9:00am -- HEB: "Y'all need to come get this water. These pallets are in our way."

Tuesday, October 23 - 12:00pm -- City of Pflugerville: "Hey, we don't have a water problem and ALL our restaurants are open."

Tuesday, October 23 - 3:00pm -- LCRA spokesperson: "This may last 'till Halloween."

Tuesday, October 23 - 3:01pm -- Mayor Up_for_Re-election: "No, no. This is only going to last a handful of days."

Tuesday, October 23 - 3:02pm -- Social Media: "How many is a handful?"

Tuesday, October 23 - 3:03pm -- City Water Chief: "Uh, not so fast, Mayor Up_for_Re-election."

Tuesday, October 23 - 4:00pm -- Water Chief: "Okay, we are now treating water faster than we are using it." Mayor did not attend briefing.

Wednesday, October 24 - 9:00am -- Ross' Cafe, our Wednesday breakfast stop: All good except for ice maker. Your choice if you want ice or not. Most restaurants and cafes are business as usual, just selling canned drinks and serving everything as take-out. No dish-washing.

Wednesday, October 24 - 4:00pm -- Press briefing: "No bacterial problem with water, but doesn't pass state 'turbidity' standard. Required by law to declare Boil Water."  Mayor nowhere in sight.

Thursday, October 25 - 9:00am -- City of Austin: Announces various locations to obtain free water.

 Thursday, October 25 - 9:30am -- Social Media: Traffic jams at all free water locations.

Thursday, October 25 - 10:00am -- HEB: "Y'all - we're only charging 79 cents a gallon for water! You'll spend more idling your car in line. Seriously."

Thursday, October 25 - 12:00pm -- White House: "It's the Democrat's fault."

Thursday, October 25 - 2:00pm -- White House: "It's the Media's fault."

Thursday, October 25 - 2:30pm --  Mayor Up_for_Re-election: Signed a disaster declaration, allowing the city to request reimbursement for expenses related to weather emergencies.

Thursday, October 25 - throughout the day -- Social Media, Next Door members weigh in:
     "Don't forget your pets. Be sure you use boiled water for your dog."
     "Are you kidding? My dog drinks out of the toilet!"
     "OMG! I forgot and brushed my teeth with tap water! What to do?"
     "Rinse your mouth with some Purell."
     "Everybody should move to Manor."
     "Can't. Have to wash dishes before I can sell my house."
     "Can you get giardia geeardia jiardia stomach bug
            from drinking non-boiled water?

Friday, October 26 - 10:00am -- Statesman: Blame Game begins. Mayor Up_for_Re-election and City Council passes resolution requiring complete and thorough investigation of Austin's BoilWaterGate crisis.

Friday, October 26 - 10:30am -- Water Chief responds to City Council: "Have you looked out the front door of City Hall at the color of the water in the river? #NotOurFault

Friday, October 26 - 10:30am -- Politicos who voted for 4th water treatment plant 2 years ago: "See! We told you that we needed that plant!"

Friday, October 26 - 10:32am -- Politicos who voted against 4th water treatment plant 2 years ago: "See! We told you that that plant was a waste of money!"

Friday, October 26 - 2:30pm --  Water Chief: "Sunday afternoon/evening is ‘operating target’ for lifting boil-water order."

Friday, October 26 - 3:00pm -- White House: "Calling out National Guard."

Saturday, October 27 - throughout the day -- Social Media: Ho hum.

Sunday, October 28 - 3:30pm -- City of Austin: "Crisis is over! Drink up!"

Sunday, October 28 - 4:00pm --Various local vendors: "I Survived BoilWaterGate! tee shirts and coffee mugs now on sale. Get yours while supplies last."

Monday Meanderings - 10.22.2018

I may have miss-spoken about Fall not showing up. Sometime between the time I wrote last week's blog and the time I got up on Monday morning, someone turned on the cold. You may have seen the memes that pointed out that the temperature range in Texas was low 30's in the Panhandle and mid-90's in the Valley. On the same day. Austin, in the middle, was 44 degrees most of last Monday.

And then it started raining.

Yesterday was a beautiful day, a much-needed respite from the rain, but floodgates are open all up and down the Highland Lakes, dumping millions of gallons of water hourly - which must eventually pass through Austin. And the rains will resume this week.

Interestingly, an over-abundance of water often creates problems for city municipal water delivery. A number of cities along the flooded areas have been having issues getting safe water to users. Boil notices and shortages are common, and even though Lake Travis - where Austin gets its drinking water - is at 147% of capacity, Austin Water has issued urgent pleas to curtail usage. All the silt and debris in the lake is severely taxing the filtration process, it seems

On the bright side, the current joke is that Cruise Lines are now offering departures from Port Austin. Excursions include Bald Eagle viewing along the Llano River.

But still no fallen pecans to speak of, though that doesn't deter the little Vietnamese Lady. She comes by daily to check. It has motivated us to be properly dressed of a morning before opening the blinds. She really likes to prowl along the drip-line in the front flower bed, where the pecans that roll off the roof land. Surprise!

Vui lòng đi chỗ khác.

Monday Meanderings - 10.15.2018

motivation

noun

mo·ti·va·tion | \ˌmō-tə-ˈvā-shən\

Definition of motivation 

1 : the act or process of motivating. Some bloggers need motivation to help them write a post.

Okay, I made up that part about bloggers. Merriam-Webster had a more general definition, but mine fits the situation better. I need some motivation - and good material - to get back in the blogging groove. To be fair, there have been 1,242 posts in this blog so far. This is number 1,243, and in the 11 years of this blog's existence, I have written down almost everything I know, and most things that I have done (there are some notable exceptions and that's all I have to say about that).

And I have been busy. I have been trying to wrap up the marathon audio recording project known as "the (expletive deleted) Alaska book." It came in at 14 hours and 40 minutes of narration. I don't keep records of how much time I spend producing a book; industry guidelines suggest a 6-to-1 ratio (6 hours work for every finished hour - or in this case, about 88 hours) is a good goal. Hah! I spent more than 88 hours trying to find the pronunciation of words like "promyshleniki" and "Revillagigedo" and "Kwakwaka’wakw." For the record, it's pronounced  "kwalk-walk-yah-walk."

Interesting story about the pronunciations. Early on I had raised a flag for help with the publisher. My contact finally got me in touch with the author, and I sent him a long list of words I could not find. After some prodding, he did respond, and said, "I don't have a clue. I never heard them pronounced. I just copied them out of the source material."

But this past week I clicked on the "I Am Done" button and put the finished product in the publisher's hands. Barring major problems, it should be available for sale in a few weeks.

It's trying to be Fall here - but not very hard. True, there are no more really, really hot days, but it hasn't exactly cooled down, either. There's a "cold" front coming this week that may make a difference. Maybe that will also shake some pecans loose. The trees are loaded, but very few nuts are actually making it to the ground, and those that do are much smaller in size than normal.

That hasn't stopped the little old Vietnamese lady; she checks regularly, and thanks to our motion-sensing doorbell, we know every time she comes around. She's hard to run off, so if I want some pecans, I'm going to have to be diligent. Assuming they ever fall out of the trees. At least no limbs have broken off (yet) this year.

 

Monday Meanderings - 9.24.2018

Last week I posted about a couple of small books with family significance. This week I'm going big. Big, as in 9"x12"x2.5" and weighing in at 6.5 pounds!

The tome labeled "Johnson County History" is exactly that. An amalgamation of facts, photos, historical events, newspaper clippings, biographies and sketches of Johnson County, it's communities and citizens from inception to publication date, about 1958, The book is still listed on Amazon, available from other sellers for about $130.

Johnson County, measuring 734 square miles in size, is just south of Fort Worth (Tarrant County) and is included in the Dallas-Fort Worth-Arlington, TX Metropolitan Statistical Area. It is named for Middleton Johnson, a Texas Ranger, soldier, and early politician. And it is "home" for my family.

My parents were born in Johnson County, and they are buried there. Their parents, and some of their grandparents lived there and are buried there. Countless uncles, aunts, cousins, in-laws (and outlaws) that make up the Anderson/Bramblett family lines lived there. Numerous family members still do, along with folks named Boyd, Doss, Elliott, Hagler and Basham, to name a few.

Cleburne is the county seat, and in the early years was the dominant community in the county, in terms of population and commerce. But there were dozens of small communities scattered about that pop up regularly in the genealogical record; places like Bono, Cresson, Godley, Grandview, Rio Vista, Sand Flat, Watts Chapel and Stubblefield. In some cases, the community - or remnants of it - is still there, In other cases, there may only be an old cemetery, now on private property.

One such community was Stubblefield, located in eastern Johnson County. The Handbook of Texas History provides the brief history of the community:

"Stubblefield was initially settled by the John B. Westbrook family in 1857. Westbrook built the first steam mills in the county, which he eventually sold to John Stubblefield, for whom the community was named. In 1868 Stubblefield contracted with Christian Hudzietz, a German immigrant, to operate a sawmill and gristmill at the Westbrook site. A distillery was added later by Reavis and Files, Distillers, but was sold at public auction in 1876 to satisfy overdue taxes. The United States government leased the distilling operation in 1877. A post office was established in 1877, discontinued in 1889, reestablished in 1892, and discontinued permanently in 1900. At one time the community included-in addition to the mills and distillery-several stores, three churches, a physician, and a telephone exchange."

My mother and her 7 brothers and sisters were all born in Stubblefield, The telephone exchange mentioned above was located in the front parlor of the family home.

Most rural communities decline gradually as founding families age and children leave for the big cities, such as Fort Worth. Stubblefield went out with a bang, however. Literally.  The distillery exploded in the early 1890s, killing two men and burning several nearby buildings, Including the general store. Stubblefield never recovered and by the time my mother started school about 1912, the community no longer existed.

Monday Meanderings - 9.17.2018

The School Book Mysteries

My sister recently bequeathed (a big word that means 'from her closet to mine') to me two school text books that have family history.

They are small books - one just over 4 by 5 inches; the other a mere inch longer. I don't know the type point size, but I certainly can't read either book without some assistance. The smaller book, with the almost-illegible title "Selected Poems" and "McMillan's Pocket Classics" embossed on its tattered cover was published in 1922 (a puzzling date, given the inscriptions), with a listed price of .48 cents.

The other book, in somewhat better condition, is labeled "The Return Of The Native" - Thomas Hardy's sixth and most controversial novel and was published in 1917. There is a penciled "1.00" on the flyleaf.  No family names are written in this book. Possession alone makes it a family heirloom.

However, family history is clearly evident on the fly-leaf of the "Selected Poems" book.

It might require the skill of an archivist to enhance all the names and scribbles on these pages, but you can clearly see our mother's name in the upper corner:

Cora Bramblett  

Barton H 

CHS "20"

Mid-page is an aunt:

Ina Bramblett

214 W. Brown Street

Cleburne Texas

C.H.S,

"22"

 And below that Uncle

Erwin Bramblett

502 South Douglas

Cleburne Texas

J.H.S.

1930

In the fall of 1920, mother was 13 years old. I'm not sure how the elementary/middle/high school divisions were made back then, but in today's terms, that would be the 7th grade. Middle School. Or maybe it was called Junior High then, as it was in my school career. So the "CHS" - Cleburne High School - is a bit puzzling. However, the "Barton H" indicates that she was in Barton House. Here's an explanation I found that clarifies that term"

"At that time Cleburne High School was set up on a “House” system. Instead of having a “home room” you had your house to meet in each morning for roll call and each evening for dismissal. The houses were large and probably held 200 students each or more.

There were three houses each for the boys and girls. The boy’s houses were Edison, Riley, and Wilson. The girl’s houses were Barton, Willard, and Addams."

Or, just think of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin.

In the fall of 1922, Aunt Ina would have been 13 as well. However, in 1930, Uncle Erwin was 15 years old and nominally should have been in the 9th grade - a freshman in High School by our present reckoning, yet he inscribes "J.H.S.," which one initially assumes to indicate "Junior High School."

 A couple of other possibilities come to mind. Erwin might have been held back. Several times. Doubtful, because as an adult he was a capable and prosperous businessman, with multiple patents issued in his name. Or, perhaps "J.H.S." stands for Joshua High School, just over 8 miles north of 502 South Douglas and easily accessible by the "Interurban" trolley car which was in operation between Cleburne and Fort Worth at that time.

Our mother's high school tenure was short-lived. She did not complete her schooling, and it is possible the school year of "20" was her 1st and only year. She never discussed her abbreviated school career, only mentioning at one point that "her nerves" were not up to the task.

Personally, I think it was because they made you read books with teeny, tiny type.

Monday Meanderings - 9.10.2018

My new friend Jack

I mentioned last post that I was narrating an audio book about early tourism along the Inside Passage on the Southwest coast of Alaska - a subject and place that resonates with me.

But the book is proving somewhat of a challenge in that it is full of words that I don't know how to pronounce. - many of them Alaskan Native names and phrases - primarily Tlingit, one of the many First Nation tribes that inhabited Alaska thousands of years before the white man showed up to "discover" Alaska.

My usual methodology for finding pronunciations is to check out some (or all) of the 30 pronouncing dictionaries I have bookmarked, then use a couple of specialized search engines, then finally just Google the term, hoping to find a discussion or better yet a YouTube video with the proper pronunciation.

Failing these methods, I start calling Libraries and Chambers of Commerce, or commercial establishments, or in this case Native Alaskan Association offices and talking to people. That's how I acquired my new best friend Jack. Jack turned out to be a 30-year resident of Alaska and wrote "local interest" items for a newspaper in Juneau, Alaska. He wrote about many of the same people and incidents that are in my book, and I kept running across these articles in my searches, so I set out to find Jack to see if he might be a good resource for the proper pronunciation of " Kwakwaka’wakw" or " Tatshenshin," among other things.

After a few tries, I found Jack. Or rather he found me. I got his first call while Barb and I were out shopping, and I did manage to keep that conversation under 30 minutes. The next call, I was not so lucky. Jack is a lonely man. Jack wanted to talk. And talk he did - for almost an hour. He sprinkled just enough responses to the list of words that I had sent him to keep me from trying the old "zzzzttt!!! sssppppttt!! You're kkkkrree breaking up, Jac...sssspppttt!! call crrrrrsh back...." trick, but even so, Barb finally came and pantomimed, "Do I need to rescue you?" about 45 minutes into this conversation.

Next Jack began an email campaign of articles that he thought I might be interested in. And they are somewhat interesting, but do nothing to further my quest for correct pronunciations, and they just heightened my concern for what I had gotten myself into.

But last week I got a short (!) email from Jack that said he had run out of resources and couldn't find any more pronunciations.

I thanked him for his help, and I might have mentioned that I would be in Antarctica for a year or so, so he might not be able to reach me by phone for a long, long while.
 
Be careful what you ask for. Or, who you ask!

Monday Meanderings - 8.27.2016

One final post regarding Alaska - from a sort of a backward approach.

I'm narrating an audio book entitled "In Darkest Alaska." Strange title, but it deals extensively (!) with the earliest days of tourism along the Inside Passage - that nearly 1,000 mile-long sea lane that weaves up the coast from Puget Sound to Icy Strait and has been a sight-seeing attraction since shortly after the Alaska Purchase in 1867.

In the early days, the steam ships departed from ports ranging from San Francisco to Vancouver - same as now - and made stops at Fort Wrangell, then Juneau, Glacier Bay and finally Sitka. Over the years, those ports have changed somewhat; Fort Wrangell was decommissioned, so Ketchikan was added. Gold was discovered in the Yukon and Skagway became a major destination, but the one constant has been Glacier Bay.

The naturalist John Muir is given credit for "discovering" Glacier Bay in 1879. Never mind that a Tlingit Indian guided him to it, and there were native seal hunters living in a half-dozen permanent communities within the arm of the bay at the time. As tribute, the largest of the nineteen-some-odd glaciers in the bay at the time was named in honor of him, and thousands made the journey to see the Muir Glacier in Glacier Bay.

"The grandest glacier in the bay was the Muir Glacier. Imagine a glacier three miles wide and 300 feet thick at its mouth. Think of Niagara Falls frozen stiff, add thirty-six feet to its height, and you have a slight idea of the terminus of Muir Glacier."

I'm puzzled by this, because it was the Marguerite Glacier - not the Muir Glacier - that our cruise ship parked in front of and we spent the afternoon marveling at.  And, according to the friendly park ranger aboard ship, the width of the glacier is about 1 mile  - not 3, and the visible height at its terminus is "only" about 250 feet. So is the first description simply hyperbole? And did they change the name in the meantime?

 A quick check with Google and the mystery is solved. This photo and the one that follows were taken from the same location on the west shoreline of Muir Inlet in Glacier Bay, and show the changes that have occurred to Muir Glacier during the 113 years between September 1892 and August 2005.

The 1892 photograph shows the more than 328 feet high, more than 2.5 miles wide tidewater terminus of the glacier. Some icebergs, evidence of recent calving, can be seen floating in Muir Inlet

In the 2005 photograph, Muir Glacier is no longer visible, as it has retreated more than 31 miles from its former position. During the 113 years between photographs, Muir Glacier ceased to have a tidewater terminus (no longer touches water in the bay). There is no floating ice and the vegetation is abundant.

So, it's still in the Park, but Cruise Ships can't handle the 31 miles of dry land to reach it. 

Interestingly, when John Muir and his Indian guide "discovered" the bay, the glacier that bears his name was the end of navigable waters, 48 miles into the bay (middle arrow). The ice wall has since retreated some 65 miles from the mouth of the bay (top) and is only a remnant of the massive glacier that filled the entire bay. When George Vancouver mapped the coast in 1790, there was no visible bay - just a huge ice field over the entire area.

Monday Meanderings - 8.20.2018

Jobs in Alaska.

We were already aware that many of the bus drivers and tour guides that we encountered in our Alaska excursions were college kids working a summer job. Some live there year-round - like the bus driver who had a tip jar labeled "Because winter is coming!!" - but most often you ran into summer hires.

We perhaps did not realize the extent of this part-time work force until we set out to venture inland to Denali. The young man and woman who served as our hosts on the rail car were from Idaho. This was his 8th season as a rail guide, and he had talked his girl-friend-now-fiance into joining up a couple of years ago. The bus driver who met us at the train station and delivered us to the lodge lives in Alaska year-round, teaches school in Fairbanks and works as a summer hire "because that's where the money is."

The Princess Denali Wilderness Lodge (and the other Cruise-line lodges, as well as most of the businesses in Healy) are shut down for the winter, and with the exception of a few maintenance workers, everybody goes home in September.

At the Lodge, we noticed a change in the age of the seasonal employees. There were still plenty of college-age workers - mostly in the food venues - but now we encountered a host of older, retirees. Like the woman who drove the shuttle bus at the Lodge. Her sign said "Carol - Flagstaff AZ" She and her husband drive a camper to Denali each Spring, live in an adjacent RV park, and spend the summer driving shuttle buses. The woman who drove our glorified Park Service school bus on the tour of the Park lives in Maine. She makes the trip by herself every year.

All of the drivers have a spiel. Of course that's part of the job description for the train guides and the Park tour guide, but even the shuttle bus driver is quick to carry on a conversation. In part, because it makes driving the Lodge circuit sixty-six times a day (yes, really) more interesting, and in part because it fosters tips.

All of the motor coaches are equipped with hands-free headsets for the drivers, and they take seriously their role as providers of information. Usually it's abut flora and fauna, but the driver on the McKinley to Anchorage portion of the trip gave us a completer and almost unbiased political history of Sarah Palin as we passed through her former home town of Wasilla.

He also told us about the signboard that operates in the winter that keeps a running total of the number of Moose killed by autos on the highway between Wasilla and Anchorage. Last year, more than 300. There apparently is not a signboard for the number of people killed in these encounters. That may say something about Alaskan values. Just saying,

Then there was Carl, the older gentleman who drove the bus from Denali Wilderness down to McKinley State Park. Carl was originally from Louisiana and when he graduated from LSU, he and his new bride responded to an offer to relocate in Alaska and teach school.  It was unclear from Carl's story just when they learned that his school was going to be a one-room all-grades class on an island in the Bering Sea.  Unlike Sarah Palin's boast that "she could see Russia from her back yard," you really could see Russia from this island. In fact, it was closer than the US. Oh, and by the way, you will need a year's supply of food and necessities, and here's a catalog to order what you will need, and a ship will bring it. Eventually.

The contract was for one year. They stayed six. They returned to the "outside," but it was too late. He and his wife live in Alaska year-round now, in Park Service housing, and he drives a bus and tells old codger stories and bad jokes to tourists. Like:

"My wife and I were at the bank in Anchorage and  a gunman burst in and proceeded to hold everyone at gunpoint and rob the place.The gunman asked the teller if she could identify him. She said yes, so he shot her. He asked the person in front of him the same question, and receiving an affirmative answer, shot him. He then asked my wife if she could, and she quickly answered, "No." But then she pointed at me and said, "But he can.""

And Carl is the one who led the bus in singing, "America The Beautiful." At that moment, in that place, it just seemed like the thing to do.

Monday Meandering - 8.12.2018

Alaska by rail.
 

We extended our Alaska cruise with a train trip from the port of Whittier, Alaska to Denali National Park. It's a distance of about 300 miles, which translates to a 10 hour train trip. I will say that  the glass dome cars provided spectacular views of the countryside - but as Barb put it, "We could have flown to Europe in the same amount of time."

Since on the maps it looked to me like Denali was in the big middle of a lot of empty space, I think I was expecting a Cruise-line owned railroad that went to the Cruise-line owned lodge outside the National Park and we would be rather isolated in the big middle of that empty space.

Turns out the Whittier-Denali route is just a portion of a very busy rail line and the Cruise line just contracts with the Alaska Railroad Company to haul the Cruise-line owned dome cars (specially made by a Colorado company) back and forth between Denali and Whittier, only a portion of the Anchorage to Fairbanks route. Oh, and there's a major highway that parallels the rail route, and the Cruise-line owned lodge is just one of many lodges and commercial establishments in the busy little town of Healy, just outside the Park entrance.

But this blog is about the train.

Like airlines, seating is assigned. Each car accommodates about 60 passengers and there are attendants assigned to each car. One acts primarily as your tour guide; the other is busy with food and drink service. The observation deck is upstairs, there are open-seating benches and tables downstairs, along with restrooms and access to an adjacent dining car and open observation platforms.

Underway, I expected us to head for the wide open spaces, so it was a little startling to first pass through Anchorage, then Wasilla, then Willow before reaching "wilderness." In fact, we passed through small towns and villages along the route on a regular basis. The railroad, of course, attracted this confluence of settlements; you might live out in the boonies, but you had to have a way to get back to civilization.

Perhaps the smallest town consisted of one house - Sherman, Alaska.

You can't see it in the picture but there is a sign that says, "Sherman City Hall" above door of the home where Mr. and Mrs Sherman raised their 5 kids, and where they live after retiring (from the railroad, of course).

Another surprise, after being out of cell phone service for most of the cruise, was to find good phone service along almost the entire route. Once upon a time telegraph lines ran alongside the railroad (there were long stretches of abandoned poles - some with slack wires); now there were cell towers to provide needed communication.

We passed, met, and waited for other trains along the way. At one point we stopped alongside a train headed back to Anchorage and transferred goods and passengers. As mentioned, it is a busy railroad. During the summer months, ARC operates daily "Flag Stop" service. If you live along the route and need to go into Willow, or into Talkeetna, you literally put up a flag at designated spots along the route. There are trains each way that stop when flagged and the passengers pay a per-mile rate to their destination and back.

Next: Summer Hires

Monday Meanderings - 7.30.2018

While most of you were suffering in the heat in the lower 48, Barb and I escaped to the more temperate climes of Alaska, cruising the Inner Passage and taking the observation dome train to Denali. I wish I could muster up more empathy for those of you who sweltered, but I'm having trouble doing so. It was a marvelous trip, and I plan to brag blog about it at length. Sorry.

Observations and Take-Aways on visiting Denali.

It's a big sucker. Too big to get any perspective. In the photo above, we are about 95 miles from the mountain!

I thought, since Denali is more or less out in the middle of nowhere, we would be pretty isolated. Turns out there is a major highway that runs right past the Park, as well as a very busy railway. Princess, Holland America and several other cruise lines have extensive lodges nearby - and there is a pretty good sized village adjacent to the Park as well.

Amazingly, there was decent cellular service for the entire 300 mile inland portion of the trip. So much for the middle of nowhere.

Denali stays shrouded in cloud cover most of the time. In fact, only 30% of visitors to the Park get to see the mountain clearly. If you are among the lucky, you can claim to be one of the 30% club and buy a tee-shirt or souvenir labeled, "I am in the 30% club! Only 10% see the mountain 2 days in a row and fewer then 2% see it 3 days in a row.

We couldn't find any 2% club shirts; it must not be cost effective to print them up, but we are proud members of that group! We saw the mountain clearly on the train up, while on a bus tour of a portion the Park itself (it's 6 million acres large) and from the bus ride down to McKinley State Park.

Alas, clouds obscured much of the mountain all the time we were in McKinley State Park, which has the closest vantage point. Even on clear days, the mountain will make it's own weather.

The idyllic picture of clear mountain streams in interior Alaska is seldom the case. Most of the rivers and streams along our route were fed by glacier melt, which results in muddy, silt-laden water. Though not polluted as such, fish cannot survive in these streams.

Everybody who works at Denali - bus drivers, waitstaff, clerks, guides, even rangers - are not from around there. The Park (and town) closes in late September and almost everybody goes home - usually to the "Outside" - the lower 48. Then they all come back in the Spring.

No sitting on the deck and watching the sunset. At this latitude, sunset was about 11:30 at night. And forget sunrise - it was around 3:30 in the morning.

Most early native Alaskans simply referred to the place as "the big mountain" in whatever dialect they spoke. The name Mt McKinley was originally promoted by a gold prospector in 1867 in honor of then-presidential candidate William McKinley (who supported the gold standard, as opposed to candidate William Jennings Bryant, who supported the silver standard). McKinley never visited Alaska, and thus never saw the mountain which bore his name.

A  long series of efforts to change the name to Denali, the Athabascan word for "the Great One" was rebuffed, primarily by congressman Ralph Regula from Ohio - President McKinley's home state. After Regula retired, President Obama officially changed the name in 2015.  In keeping with his goal of reversing every action Obama ever made, Trump originally promised to change it back, but apparently has changed his mind.

Regardless, it will always be "the Great One."

Monday Meanderings - 7.16.2018

I love a mystery.

My friend JimBo Gulley, for reasons unexplained, drives through Breckenridge Texas - my hometown - weekly. Why he does that is a mystery, but not the mystery that is the subject of this blog post.

He said that the signs above the doors on the old YMCA building cause him to chuckle, and he recently stopped and took a photo to share on Facebook, stating, "Well, apparently it’s only a blank wall that separates the boys from the men."

 

You may have to click on the picture to see them clearly,  but above the left-hand door is the legend "Men" and above the right-hand door is "Boys." Some suggested that you go in as Boys and come out as Men.

Speaking from my own personal experience, I said that, "Actually, the right hand door was the entrance to the town library, where we learned about men. The left hand door led to the gymnasium, where at Friday night Teen Canteen, we learned about girls."

Then JimBo wondered if the section in the middle had been boarded up. What was there originally? That's the mystery.

My interaction with these two doors is almost exactly as I stated. The library, behind the door on the right was probably my favorite place in the entire town. Well, there was this bakery I passed in the wee hours of the mornings as I delivered newspapers that had hot-out-of-the-oven pastries, but I digress.

For my entire growing-up years in Breckenridge, Pansy Pace, the local librarian - skillfully guided me through her meager inventory (neither the city of Breckenridge nor Stephens County has ever fully supported the library;  the organization of my era was the brain child of and was created by the Wednesday Study Club).  Nevertheless, she led me through the Bobbsey Twin series, and the Hardy Boys - and dare I say it - the Nancy Drew books, From there we went through biography's of famous and important people - and beyond. Far, far beyond. God Bless You, Pansy Pace.

And the left-hand door that led to the gymnasium, where every Friday night (except for football season) the lights were low and the music wonderful, and the girls were... Well, as Bob Seger puts it, "We were working on mysteries without any clues."

There was a third interaction. If you turned right at the entrance to the gym, you ended up at the swimming pool, which was housed in a structure that looked almost as if it were tacked onto the building, but my understanding is that it was original with the building. That's where I learned to swim.

A man named Woodrow Garrett taught me - and thousands of kids like me - to swim in the YMCA indoor pool. My recollection, perhaps faulty, is that busloads of kids from the local elementary schools would bus over to the Y for classes. How and when we got there may be vague memories, but the swimming lessons were not.  

And now to the mystery of the "third" door. Looks like it was decorative, JimBo. Here's a picture taken by the architect that designed the building in the early 1920's, W. G. Clarkson.

No middle door. 

The fate of this building is a bit dodgy at the moment. It needs repairs, and like so many small town buildings, has been unused for years and the chances of it ever being used again are slim and none. Some benefactors built a new building for the library; the pool was drained decades ago, and I don't know where "mysteries without any clues" are being worked out today in Breckenridge Texas, my hometown. I just know that somewhere there are still doors that you go in as boys and come out as men.

A modest proposal

If you follow this blog you know that I narrate audiobooks. For nearly 12 years I have volunteered as a reader for Learning Ally (formerly Recording for the Blind and Dyslexic). I have logged nearly 2,000 hours in the studio for these good folk, and I plan to continue doing so for as long as they will have me.

In addition to the unknown number of of books I have recorded for Learning Ally, I have done several for Audible.com. The most recent is a non-fiction narrative titled Vicksburg: The Bloody Siege That Turned the Tide of the Civil War, written by Samuel W Mitcham. Here's part of the Publisher's comments about this book:

On July 4, 1863, Confederate Lieutenant General John C. Pemberton surrendered Vicksburg and the Army of Mississippi to Ulysses S. Grant. Pemberton was immediately denounced as a poor general, whose incompetence and indecision cost the South control of the impregnable fortress. Some Southern newspapers were especially harsh, pointing out that Pemberton was a Northerner (he was born in Philadelphia) and suggesting that treachery was behind the fall of "the Confederate Gibraltar." 

Mitcham explores the events leading up to the siege of Vicksburg, as well as the battle itself, and the participants in the action in great detail, approaching the subject from the Southern point of view. You can follow the link above to learn more about the book, and even listen to a sample of me reading the book.  

But I urge you - DON'T BUY THE BOOK!  Let me give you a copy instead.

Audible.com gives me a limited number of promotional codes for this purpose,and I will pass them on to you. BUT before you say, "Oh, goody - a free book!" let me make these points. The book is likely only going to be interesting to you...

IF you are a fan of Civil War history - and I mean a fan - this sucker is 12 hours long!!

IF you are a Southern Sympathizer and believe that the South will Rise Again!

IF you love hearing endless details of troop movement, battle descriptions and casualty counts!

IF you want to know the life history of every Southern officer (and some civilians) involved!

AND you must promise you will not drive while listening to this book (see the parts above about 12 hours of minute details).

Reply in the comments and I'll give away these promotional codes on a first-come basis, with instructions on how to use it for a free copy of this audiobook. You do not have to be a subscriber to Audible.com - your Amazon sign-on will work - but if they do ask you to set up an account, with the code, you do not have to buy anything.

Be sure to include your email address in the comment. I promise I'm not going to put you on a list or even tell you about my next book. This is a one-off deal as far as I'm concerned. Call it a 4th of July observance of an event that happened 153 years ago.

However, you likely will hear from Audible.com again. It is an Amazon company, after all, and there's a reason they give out these codes.

Monday Meanderings - 7.2.2018

How did it get to be July already? Though I will admit that it has been fire-cracker hot for some time here in ATX, so maybe I shouldn't be surprised.

Pretty sure I saw an auto repo go down in front of our house the other afternoon/ And no, it was not one of our vehicles.

Barb noticed a pickup parked out front, but there was nobody in it. I thought it might be the tree company guy bringing the bill by for getting us out of the fig tree business, so I was watching out the window, thinking perhaps he had gone around to the side of the house to inspect the job and would be coming to the door in a moment.

Instead I saw a tow truck come down the street and pull in and stop in front of our driveway and lower the hoist mechanism onto the ground. Then a little red car came zipping down the street and drove right up onto the hoist of the tow truck; the driver hopped out as the tow truck driver elevated the front wheels of the red car up, and then took off with the car.

Meanwhile, the driver jumped into the previously-mentioned pickup and took off after the tow truck.

Gone in 60 seconds.

Rob asked if I went out and looked up the street for the person with car-keys in hand, looking around all puzzled, thinking, "I'm sure I parked it right here." And then he reminded me of Gerald, a family acquaintance from long ago.

We became acquainted with Gerald back during our kick-ball and youth soccer era, The Optimists had a smallish sports complex in north Austin, and we went there to play ball. Gerald was active in the Optimist organization, and was a kick-ball umpire of some renown. He brooked no nonsense from players or parents. Especially not parents.

Gerald drove a pickup that had eye-bolts at each of the 4 corners of the bed of the truck, with lengths of heavy wire looped through each eye-bolt. The bolts and wire were there to restrain individuals that might not be initially willing to accompany Gerald when he went to pick them up and return them to the folds of the judicial sysytm from which they had absented themselves. Gerald was a bounty hunter and a repo man, and perhaps a few other things best not mentioned.

 Some of the other Optimists, we learned, often helped Gerald when he needed a hand, such as a fellow I worked with at NPC at the time, named "Blue." According to them, some of the best places to look for individuals needing re-acquaintance with the legal system were the various bars around town. If they waited until closing time, the scofflaws were usually too inebriated to put up much of a fight, but Gerald was an impatient sort, so he and Blue usually just marched in, snagged the guy, and were on their way before his buddies realized what had happened.

But sometimes - say if the guy was buying - they took offense at this interruption. This apparently didn't matter to Gerald. In fact, I think he looked forward to it.

On a more personal note, Gerald had a daughter, Lisa. She was in the Reagan High band and Rob took her on a date to a band banquet once. I've got to hand it to Rob; he knew exactly what Lisa's daddy did for a living and had the courage to ask her for a date. I was out of town at the time, but I'm guessing he had her home exactly on time. Just like her daddy wanted.

Monday Meanderings - 6.25.2018

Fig tree finale.

Shortly after we moved into this house - more than 50 years ago - I planted 3 fig trees, nay, fig saplings, on the north side of the house.

When I mentioned this to a friend, Ross Davis, he commented. "You better hope that 2 of those trees die."

We soon found out why Ross made this comment. Fig saplings quickly turn into fig bushes, and fig bushes quickly grow into fig trees, and fig trees quickly begat more trees, and pretty soon we have more fig saplings/bushes/trees (and figs) than we know what to do with.

The prospect of delicious strawberry/fig preserves was intriguing, and we did harvest and cook and can a quantity of preserves. Once, or maybe twice. It was a lot of work for a few jars of goodness that one could purchase for a very modest sum.

Besides, the trees soon grew taller than the house, and if you wanted the good figs, you had to get on the roof to harvest them and that quickly lost its appeal. I'm pretty sure that Sally, our neighbor, harvested more figs than we did.

Then there was the matter of large fig tree limbs simply falling over. One day they are tall and upright and the next day they are lying in the neighbor's yard. And there was also the matter of over-ripe figs scattered on the ground. And driveway. And on the A/C unit. And everywhere you stepped on the north side of the house.

A number of years ago, one of the 3 trees did, in fact, die. But the remaining 2 simply doubled down in honor of their fallen comrade. Recently I began considering the prospect of a total figectomy. One call to No-Mo-Fig-Trees and  they would be gone. But I procrastinated. Until I went out the other day and noticed that one of the largest limbs was now leaning against the edge of the roof.

So Saturday, No-Mo-Fig-Trees put us out of the fig tree business. Permanently.

I need to call Ross and tell him that I finally took his advice.

Monday Meanderings - 6.18.2018

If this is the 18th of June, I must have had a birthday last week. Again. Mind you, I'm not complaining, just noticing. Barb gave me a card that said, "You're getting old. You were old last year!"

And the 2018 version of the FIFA World Cup started this past week.  They've been going on - in one form or another - since 1930. when the first FIFA-sanctioned tournament was held in.... Uruguay. FIFA had a hard time convincing European teams to make the trip. The USA team defeated Mexico 4-1 in one of the first matches played, and in the final, Uruguay defeated Argentina 4–2 in front of a crowd of 93,000 people in Montevideo, and became the first nation to win the World Cup.

When the 1978 Cup came around, we were settled in Austin and our kids were playing (and I was refereeing) soccer in the local Optimist youth league. If you had cable TV, you would be able to see some of the games on the Spanish-language channel, so we signed up for cable. Barb was studying Spanish with a Colombian-born tutor at the time (with no cable), so we all gathered around the TV to watch host-nation Argentina defeat the Dutch  3–1.

Barb and I actually attended a World Cup quarter-final game when the USA hosted in 1994. Tickets were made available to us common folk by way of a lottery. You signed up, and if you got picked in the draw, you could buy 2 tickets. What you did not have was a choice; whatever game and location they offered, you could buy or pass. I asked Barb what we would do if we got very lucky and drew tickets for the Final in Pasadena? She said, "We would get on a plane and go to the game!" Luckily our game was in Dallas and we saw the eventual winner Brazil defeat the Dutch in the Cotton Bowl.

Four years later, we were in the Czech Republic during the late stages of the cup, which was going on just up the road in France. That was nice, because the games were played in the same time zone - no late-night or 6am matches. An interesting memory of those games is the sound of thousands of people living in the densely-packed high-rise apartment complexes alternately cheering or groaning during match play. You didn't actually need a TV to know when a goal was scored. BTW, host France won the cup by beating Brazil 3–0 in the final.

The women's national teams began formal World Cup competition back in 1991, when the US Women defeated China in China. In 1995, the US women eked out a 3rd place finish - over China, yet again. TV coverage was limited until 1999, when the Cup was held in the US; ESPN covered the final from Pasadena, and while visiting Rob and Jana in Tyler, Texas, we all got to see Brandi Chastain take her shirt off in victory, just like the men did.

That was a watermark moment for soccer in the US. The FIFA Women's World Cup now ranks in the top five for most watched sporting broadcasts in the world. And while the men's team is watching this year's Cup from home, same as me, the women are getting ready to defend their 3 (count 'em)  World Championships in France in 2019.Maybe we should get tickets.