"Thank God And Greyhound"

After 43 years of marriage the day finally came. The day my wife announced that she was moving back to her mother’s house…going home to mother...moving out…leaving… and I was OK with that.

It wasn’t like Roy Clark’s “Thank God And Greyhound she’s gone”. While I am pleased that she is leaving it’s for an entirely different reason. Her almost one hundred and four year old mother needs her. Almost blind and almost deaf she still lives at home but someone needs to be there and I am pleased it can be my wife.

Thank you, Lord Jesus, for a loving mother-in-law and her daughter.
For such a wonderful and undeserved gift is not fodder.
I will miss her…and it’s only a pittance to pay for the hereafter.
Thank you, Roy Clark, for making me chuckle and all of the laughter.

12/23/10… Happy 43rd Anniversary… Mary Owen…I love you.

The Shortest Day

On the shortest day of the year…the winter solstice…I pedaled into a strong headwind and struggled to make the 6 AM Mass. It was T-shirt weather and the brisk breeze carried off the heat and sweat generated by the vigorous turning of the crank. After the readings I was able to catch my breath and listen to what Monsignor Harold said. “Christmas makes no sense…nothing about Christmas makes any sense,” says he. Finally someone admitted what I had been thinking for a long time. Christ coming into the world the way he did is not what I would expect God to do. If I were God I would have flown in on Air Force ONE, had a big limousine and a bunch of Secret Service men waiting to take me to a four star hotel. But God chose to come as a baby…born to an unwed mother in some retched barn full of stinky animals.

What do I know? I do not understand why, but I am glad He did it. I am glad he came for the poorest of the poor, for the lowest of the low…for me.

I’ve decided that it does not have to make sense. I am comfortable being the most foolish of the foolish…the fool of fools…a fool for Christ.

God’s nonsense makes more sense than the wisdom of the wisest men.

As usual, my preparing for Christmas was limited to eating lots of Christmas cookies and Christmas candy. So again this year you will not receive a Christmas card or gift from me.

Merry Christmas to all

Some Things Never Change

As I sat on my tailgate…I lifted the tab to the rim and pulled back slowly…per the instructions on the can of Van Camp’s Pork and Beans which had spent the morning on the dash of my truck warming in the December sun. I wiped off my spoon with the clean underside of my shirttails and dug in. The taste of that first spoonful took me back to my childhood…just as if it were yesterday…the memories flooded back…memories of a blissful time when all was right with the world. It was a simpler time before fast foods…before TV…a time when the family all ate dinner together. Those pork ‘n beans found their way on to our table with amazing frequency and I loved them. They were especially good on the family vacations when Mother would put the can in the back window of the car…by noon we would find a roadside table and enjoy that wonderfully warm tomato sauce and pork flavored bean. My dad referred to those beans, as “the musical fruit” and he would recite his favorite limerick. “Beans, beans the musical fruit…the more you eat the more you toot.” What great times. Our caring parents kept us kids on a short leash and well sheltered from an ugly outside world. Life was not so messy back then. As a “grown up” I tend to do what I want to do…and that’s what gets me in trouble.

Well…some things never change…our Father’s love and Van Camp’s pork ’n beans.

Dear Father God…give me the wisdom to stay on that short leash, listen to your words, follow your rules and enjoy this blissful life as a child. Amen

Burr...

The Weather Channel reported thirty-three degrees Fahrenheit, calm winds and a clear sky. So I jumpstarted my day with a bicycle ride to morning Mass. It was a wonderfully refreshing morning with a heaven full of stars. I was able to locate the “Big Dipper” high in the northern sky…inverted with its outer rim pointing down toward an indistinguishable North Star…supposedly lower down in the haze toward the horizon. I couldn’t help but wonder how the old sailing ships ever got to their destination without a Tom-Tom, Garmin or Magellan. Fortunately I knew the way to church and then on to the “W” for breakfast…breakfast with the old men who sit around drinking coffee and discussing the world’s problems (myself not old enough to drink coffee).

As I pedaled home the sun’s rays pierced a crystal clear blue sky and glistened off of the snow white frost covered roofs. I took a deep breath of cold morning air and thought…this is a day the Lord has made.

You’re the star and guiding light
You’re the one who lights the night.
Thank you Lord for this day
It is You that shows the way.

Amen

Mental Health Days

Monday I decided to take a mental health day. It seems that if I go to work too much…I start taking everything too seriously and get all bogged down in stuff that isn’t even my concern…and that diminishes my productivity. So I was going to hang out at home and work on my writing…hone my skills as a serious writer. After several hours of staring at a blank page, sharpening every pencil I owned and making multiple trips to the fridge to look in…I decided I could never be a real writer. Fortunately the phone rang and a customer called with an emergency…so I gathered up my tools and spent the day doing stuff I was more comfortable with.
Today is Friday and my wife wanted to know how many mental health days I was going to take. Well…that’s the beauty of being self-employed…working for yourself. You can make your own rules about mental health days. As long as my belly button is not touching my backbone I can take as many days as I want.

You are the one, who answers my plea,
Thank you Lord Jesus, for taking care of me;
Back in the day, when I had not even a clue,
Now I realize that it was you.

For all of the times when things were fine,
For all of the times when I was blind;
Thru all of the trials and all of the test,
Now I realize you’re the best.

Amen

Alpine Art Walk

As I sat on the steps of the Brewster County Courthouse whittling away at my time, the autumn breeze rustled the golden yellow leaves of the Cottonwoods and dispatched the fragrance of outdoor cuisine quaffing up from the street vendor’s booths. A parade of art cars that you wouldn’t find on exhibit at “du Louvre” meandered down the main drag amidst the “oohs” and “aahs” of the crowd (my favorite was the giant “cockroach” car). The streets filled with the music of Matt Skinner’s Walk’n, Talk’n, Fingerpick’n …while Ray Wylie Hubbard had us “up against the wall”. It was a weekend of smelling the leather at the Big Bend Saddlery, ingesting burgers at Alicia’s Burrito Palace and stargazing at the McDonald Observatory. It was the Marfa lights, the blown-out tires, the adobe Church at Ruidosa on the Rio Grande and the drive down Pinto Canyon Road. I am now confident that my wife’s new Camry and I are ready for the Paris-Dakar 2011 Rally. The moonset at sunrise in Lajitas, the home-make music and the austere beauty of the Big Bend Park was magnificent. The fact that it was all enjoyed with friends will not soon be forgotten.
Thanks to our hosts, the tall lanky cowboy and his stunning wife…their hospitality would make any outsider fit right in. Thank you for inviting us, taking us into your home and feeding us; a rowdy bunch of college kids on the verge of retirement.

There is no place like Alpine
The air is fresh, the weather fine
The mountain views they are sublime
I hope to visit one more time.

Up and down the city sidewalk
Cluttered with drawings of charcoal and chalk
Photos and paintings are the big squawk
November is the time for the Alpine Art-Walk.

And so I am blessed with all of the best
But having good friends is the test
Then there is no need for all of the rest
And so it is...out there in the West.

Amen

Tofurkey Day?

Thanksgiving is a one of my favorite holidays. I totally enjoy the family gathering together for a meal…a meal at my mother-in-law’s house. She has become the focal point. At the age of 103 she still lives at home…her house is the gathering place for the entire family and any homeless folks you might care to invite…all are welcome. Most everyone brings a dish, a dessert or a delectable treat. While I am not a professional eater, I do feel like an “Olympic class” amateur who is constantly training for just such an event. My strategy is to start with the pies first…making sure I test each and every one…I would not want to hurt anyone’s feelings. Then on to the main course…again making sure to try all the different entrées and side dishes. This year a “Tofurkey” stuffed with wild rice in the most attractive presentation found it’s way onto the menu. While I’ve never had any vegan tendencies…my curiosity peeked at the thought of anything made from tofu tasting like food. I feel that I have matured a bit in my eating habits…it no longer bothers me that the peas touch the mash potatoes… I’ve decided it is all going to the same place. But the Tofurkey…what can I say…to put it politely there was no need to go back for seconds. I’m quite sure I will never be a vegetarian. While I enjoy many vegetables I can’t see banning all foods that have or have had eyes from my diet. Bacon, burgers, butter and bread, especially white bread, are essentials and a necessary food group.

Thank you Lord Jesus,
You know how to please us.
For the family and friends,
And all of the grins.

At One hundred and three
She is amazing you see.
For how can it be
Such a blessing to me?

Thank you so much
For your loving touch
For all the malarkey
And even Tofurkey

Amen.

Technically Frustrated

Dear Diary;
I am literarily, metaphorically and technically Frustrated. Wave after wave of the latest technology washes over me as I struggled to catch my breath. I cannot get my antiquated PDA/smart phone to scroll and therefore perform any application. I am awash in a sea of three and four “G” know-how, drowning in a deluge of high tech gadgets that I have no idea how to operate and do not want to learn. I am ready to throw in the towel along with my dingle berry of a Blackberry. Following numerous doctoring of the little mouse ball with alcohol and no success…it appeared the little mouse was sick and would not recover.

Then I remembering what grandson Cameron taught me, I “Googled” it. I typed in "how do I clean my Blackberry mouse ball". Bingo…there it was… instruction illustrated with pictures.

I pried off the retaining ring with my pocketknife and exposed the tiny directional rollers, which were impacted with a six-month supply of belly button fuzz. My wife’s toothbrush was the perfect tool suited to the task. I brushed and cleaned everything until it was shiny new…snapped it back together and “voila”

“Life is good, God is great and people are crazy.”
Amen.

Note to self:
I must remember to put her toothbrush back.

Fall Days

It was another gorgeous fall day, and now the sun was low and the shadows were long as I drug myself, pick axe and shovel back to the house. It had been a physically exhausting day of digging…digging up an electronic probe for a customer’s automatic gate opener. I should have known that I was out of shape…just this morning I had to come up twice for air as I tie my bootlaces. I enjoyed the physical activity for the first few hours but, after not finding “the treasure”, the fun wore off. I commandeered a backhoe and effortlessly dredged up the defective item…in no time.

Thank you, Lord Jesus,

For a beautiful day spent outdoors,
A perfect place to do my chores.
I must admit it underscores,
A sharp contrast to when it pours.

For holes to dig, it never bores,
A few blisters here and muscle sores.
I won't complain or make those roars,
On days like these my spirit soars.

Amen.

White Bread

Yesterday my wife brought home a loaf of white bread. Communications being what they are… I assumed it was to eat and immediately tore into it. Little did I know it was to make little sandwiches…finger sandwiches with the crust cut off...sandwiches for her high tea women’s club meeting.

When I was a child my mother always bought white bread. It was the thing…it was the rage. Maybe it was the only type of store-bought bread available. White flour was what everyone wanted…refined white bread, refined white flour. Who knew the refining process got rid of all the good stuff. I grew up on white bread and loved it…good stuff or not. Bologna on white bread, PB&J on white, pimento cheese on white, whatever on white was the standard of the day. Childhood was great, in spite of all warnings, you could run with a pair of scissors and not put your eye out, fall from tall trees without breaking your neck and eat white bread to your hearts content without dying…those were the days. But now it’s different…we know better. My wife being the kind, caring person she is will not allow me to eat white bread because it’s bad for me. Well, apparently she does not care as much for her “high tea” buddies.


Thank you Lord,
For a caring wife,
Sometime it’s hard,
And full of strife.

But this I know,
About this waif,
When it’s time to go,
You will keep me safe.
Amen.