Category Archives: story

A Graceful Dance

It was a Daddy Daughter Dance.  Unfortunately for my son, he had to work out of town.  Fortunately for me, I was the second-string back up for Grace, who is 6 years old, and in first grade.

The school dance was for elementary girls, grades one through six, at our local university Grand Ballroom. My only concern was that it was from 6 to 9 PM.  Having two left feet and the coordination of a one-legged giraffe, how in the world could I fake dancing that long?!  In the end, it didn’t matter.

What did matter was that my granddaughter had a good time. She was dressed in a light blue dress covered with tulle. (For the ladies, aren’t you impressed I know what “tulle” is, and for us guys, it’s said “tool”, but not spelled that way, so it’s not a skirt covered in crescent wrenches like I thought.)

Continue reading A Graceful Dance

Chief Katura

The little boogers were back in the woods behind our house.   7, 8 and 9 year old grandsons would never admit it, but their expressions said they almost got lost. 

To implant a little raise the eyebrow caution in them, I whipped up a story of half-truth, half-lie, fabricated, made up, tall tale, umm, creative license story.

“Did y’all see any signs of Chief Katura in the woods?”

Like fishing for hungry perch with a worm, they snapped at the bait!   “Who’s that?”

“Chief Katura?”

I paused to look them in the eye for emphasis.

“Now, I’m not saying I believe it, but folks around here say Chief Katura was the bravest Caddo Indian to ever live! Even braver than Chief Nacogdoches, who the oldest town in Texas (where we live), is named after.  A lot of folks around here say the spirit of Chief Katura still roams these woods looking for his bow and arrow.”

They didn’t just take the bait.  They swallowed the hook! 

I robbed some local fore from ghost stories from the town I grew up in and went on.  

Continue reading Chief Katura

Hurricane Rest

As I sit and peck on my iPad, the wind is beginning to blow, and the rain just started playing pitter pat on the windows.  Hurricane Laura makes landfall tonight.

We’re 3 1/2 hours drive from the beach, but hurricanes are non-discriminatory storms, especially the wind.  We’re lucky though. We’re west of the hurricane’s eye, the less destructive side.

Even so, trees will come down. Electricity will flicker, then fail.

Tomorrow afternoon the rain will wane, the wind will pucker out, and everyone will get on with things. Continue reading Hurricane Rest

Dreamtown to Awakeville

It was a crazy dream!

I was zonked asleep, which is important, because sometimes I daydream.  In fact, sometimes blogging is like daydreaming, except with words.

Anyway, I was asleep dreaming.

My dreams are usually weird — near sighted blonde unicorns with measles playing frisbee golf while carrying spittoons for their chewing tobacco weird.  Unless you’re deranged, my dreams seldom make sense!

I dreamed about being in an open country field with rolling hills and tall grass as a contestant in a show similar to Wipe Out.  The next task in the show was to ride a merry-go-round for children. Continue reading Dreamtown to Awakeville

Throw Momma From The ‘Plane’

Last week we flew to Rapid City, South Dakota to start a six state vacation tour. There’s always a variety of people on airline flights.  I catch myself evaluating everyone, particularly the men, just in case I have to fight.

Don’t call me paranoid. Call me, I don’t know, prudent. Maybe paranoid.  Mainly, prudent.

This flight though, I was more worried about a flight attendant than anything else! At first, I wasn’t completely sure if he was a she, or she was a he. It was she.

I’m figuring she could’ve retired in 1972, but has held on to working as long as she can. The airline must have great benefits! Hair styling, Botox and charm school, however, aren’t among them.

Her gruff, don’t make me slap you, matter of fact, I smoke three packs of cigarettes a day for lifer voice seemed disturbingly familiar. She even looked familiar, but patting my chin with my finger, I couldn’t figure out from where…

Then my mind started churning….a movie, maybe?

That’s it! That’s who the stewardess looks like!  She looked like mama from the 1987 movie, Throw Momma From the Train!  It was uncanny!!  Twilight Zone music started playing it was so eerie!! Continue reading Throw Momma From The ‘Plane’

A Thought To Remember

One of my sons, Todd, told me a story that still lingers several years later.

He had several jobs at once in college, but quit them all to work in a college intern. He continued to work, however, for a gentleman in his 80’s he’d met a couple of years before.  The man was in great shape, but hired Todd to do heavy labor work around his farm.

As Todd got to know the man and his wife, he really liked them, a lot.

Unfortunately, she had Alzheimer’s, and was getting progressively worse in the short time he’d known them.

One day sitting in the gentleman’s pickup, he told Todd he would need him to work more to help look after the place.

Staring out the front windshield, he spoke quietly, as if thinking out loud. He said his wife’s memory lapses were becoming longer, and more frequent.

Occasionally, she would snap out of it and be back to herself instead of the confused, absent minded stranger.  He was was forced to move her to a nursing home for proper care. Continue reading A Thought To Remember

Welcome to the Bee Box

It started as a wild hair.  I moved a swarm of bees at work to keep them away from some employees who are deathly allergic.

Besides, bees are important to the environment, so you don’t want to kill them.  I learned along the way how to get a swarm to relocate them.  At first, it was a fiasco, but after moving a few over a couple of years, I got better.

Not to be a braggart, although it’s bragging, but not a prideful bragging, just an accomplishment bragging….OK, so I’m tooting my horn with a fog horn beecause I did it beeuatifully!

And, (brag, brag) I’ve only been stung once a couple of years ago when one got under my hard hat.  That bee kamikazed its stinger right in the bald spot!  Yeah. It hurt! Big red lump on the bald spot for a week!

The wild hair (no pun intended) has turned into an interest.  I bought a bee box from a feed store and waited. Patiently. Continue reading Welcome to the Bee Box

Slave, What Is Your Name?

(A reblog of an accidentally deleted post from 2-4-19)

Movie.

Gladiator.

Scene.

Maximus had been taken into slavery and became a Gladiator. He is ultimately taken to Rome to fight in the great Coliseum and wins the hearts of the blood thirsty mob for his valor and fighting skill.

The evil emperor, Commodus, thought Maximus was dead and forgotten. He goes to the Coliseum floor before the throngs to meet the great Gladiator, Maximus, whose face is always covered by his helmet. The ensuing conversation moves me to my core…

Commodus: “Why doesn’t the hero reveal himself and tell us his real name? You do have a name?”

Maximus: “My name is Gladiator.” (Turns and starts to walk away.)

“How dare you show your back to me! Slave! You will remove your helmet and tell me your name!”

Maximus takes off his helmet, turns and faces the evil Commodus.  In quiet, determined words, he tells his name, his TRUE identity:

“My name is Maximus Decimus Meridius. Commander of the armies of the north. General of the Felix legions. Loyal servant to the true Emperor, Marcus Aurelius. Father to a murdered son. Husband to a murdered wife. And I will have my vengeance, in this life, or the next.”

Utterly shocked to find Maximus alive, Commodus’ words falter. His troops draw swords to slay the Gladiators, but the Coliseum erupts in unison, “Live, live, live…”

The devious, scheming Commodus realizes he is politically and ethically trapped in the eyes of Rome, at least for the moment, so he reluctantly turns his thumb up to show the gladiator will live to fight another day.

Commodus walks from the arena while the Coliseum explodes in cheers, not for the evil emperor, but the gladiator slave as the chant begins…”Maximus, Maximus, Maximus!” Continue reading Slave, What Is Your Name?

The Baby Dies

When my oldest son was 4 years old, we were on our way to “Life Chain”, a pro-life activity where everyone stood silently holding signs along the business route in support of life.  There were hundreds of people participating and the silence was, in and of itself, peaceful.

What I remember the most, however, was the drive.  Blake sat next to me and asked where we were going.  Thinking a short answer would suffice, I told him it was to support babies who hadn’t been born.  As kids will do, he filled his logic train by peppering me with, “Why?” over and over.

Honestly, I didn’t want him to know about abortion, but after answering a couple of questions vaguely, I let the word “abortion” slip out. He zeroed in like a heat seeking missile. Continue reading The Baby Dies

Pull Up Your Pants

I shouldn’t have done it.  Really.  It wasn’t the brightest thing for sure.  I rarely ever snap, but this was a clean break!  I don’t even know why.  Maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe it does.

I ran into a drug store for a bottle of benadryl and started the rat like maze walk up and down every store aisle to find it.  At the end of one aisle I almost walked over a little 8 or 9 year old girl who rounded a corner opposite of her mother.  The mother apologized for her daughter and pulled her to her side of the aisle.

I smiled and said the customary, “Scuse me” and continued my search.  I turned up the next aisle and a big, no … a huge, muscular defensive lineman guy about 24 or 25 years old was halfway up the aisle with his back to me.

All I could see, besides his highly defined arm muscles, was his sweat pants halfway down showing his underwear.  They weren’t boxers either. They were whitey tighties that showed the distinct impression of what should’ve been covered up.  Knowing the mother and child were one aisle over, I just reacted, nuclear reactor style. Continue reading Pull Up Your Pants