A Christmas I will always remember...

One of the problems with writing and telling stories is that often times one tends to lose touch with what is fiction and what is reality.....I know when growing up my Mom always would remind me of the adage " Tommy, if you cry wolf too many times, no one will believe you"....but I always wanted to tell stories.....granted, as a young Skeeter boy the stories I made up were to keep me from getting into trouble....but I would enjoy going to my special head brain place where I could be whomever I wanted to be and make up stories and retell them to my friends....a true Walter Mitty

So now ....I have to confess.....maybe the previous Thanksgiving and Christmas stories on this blog were embellished a little......ok....maybe they were embellished a lot....BUT... this next story is all fact....and I have a newspaper clipping to go along with it.

It was a Christmas story I'll always remember and one I enjoy telling.

Forty seven years ago tomorrow, December 11,  our house on Sandhurst Drive in Dayton, Ohio burned. 

 I was a senior in high school and had been down at the Univ. of Cincinnati for the day with a couple of friends who were going to enroll there the following Fall.  We had just pulled up to the house and I saw my home in flames. The fire trucks had just arrived and my Dad and his friend were trying to back some cars that had caught fire out of the driveway .

 Dad and his friend had bought this ambulance/hearse and were torch-cutting the rear end off of it in hopes of making it a camper...I still don't know why...Dad never went camping....I guess it was just another of his projects.

He and his friend somehow ignited some gasoline on fire and the heat and flames from the torch set the Cadillac hearse on fire....then the gas tank exploded followed by the oxygen tanks for the cutting torch...it was hot!.....um....yes, alcohol was involved.

 My brother, Rick, who was home for Christmas from Ohio Univ., heroically, saved Dad from going back into the flames. 
                                                                                                 Click here for an enlarged picture
                                                                                  

I watched as the flames subsided after thousands of gallons of water  poured down on the only home I had ever known and I wondered what Christmas would be like in the coming weeks and more importantly, where on earth would we celebrate it.

It was a depressing thought.... All the presents that had been under the tree were water or smoke damaged....Hell, the only clothes I had were the ones on my back. My aunt who lived just up the street immediately said we would move in with her. 

So, I got Mom's credit card to Elder Beerman's and got a set of clothes for the night ....I went to my aunt's house and showered and went out later.

When Christmas came, we celebrated as always (I didn't sing the Ave Maria that year) all of us packed in tight in my aunt's small white clapboard home and tried to be as positive as we could be under the conditions.

But you know what.....it was actually one of the best Christmas's that I can remember. ...We had our family.  We had each other....Everything that was lost in the fire could be replaced and we would eventually move back in to our home in the Spring......We learned that Christmas isn't about the gifts...it's about your faith, your friends and your family. 

Merry Christmas you' all

A Kender Family Christmas Tradition

One of the earliest Christmas traditions in the Kender household that I can vaguely remember was the singing of Ave Maria right before we would open presents on Christmas Eve.

This all started in my youngest of days, when our family would visit the various Hungarian Gypsy tribes that populated the West End of Dayton, Ohio. My Dad, would seek out the elders of the camps and attempt to citify them by bringing them text books and hiring them to work in his machine shop on West 4th St. 

I would wander around the camp fires and watch the gypsy women twirl in their dresses with scarves wrapped around their bodies, sometimes showing a little thigh when the dresses would spin way up high. You can imagine me as a little Skeeter boy staring at those white, fleshy legs, albeit unshaven, but at least it was exciting.

Sometimes Dad would invite members of the tribe or clan, to visit our home. He always asked that they come after dark so as not to alarm the neighbors thinking they might be there to kidnap any young children in the neighborhood.

Dad had converted the basement into a combination dance hall/root garden. He and mom would teach Hungarian folk songs and dances and Mom used the root cellar to store all of the needed vegetables to make our weekly Hungarian dishes.

My two older brothers, David and Ricky, I think both named after the Ozzie and Harriet children, didn't participate much in the singing and dancing. Dave, the genius of the family,  was always inventin' things and readin' school books. He would later go on to attend the University of Chicago and later graduate summa cum laude from Miami University. Ricky, on the other hand was more into the social scene. His good looks and taste for expensive clothes, made him quite the catch for the catholic girls in the neighborhood.

I was fortunate to inherit not only the genius head brain characteristics, but the looks and charm as well. So it was only natural that I was always on hand to sing and dance and entertain everyone...especially at Christmas.

Back to that tradition of singing Ave Maria.    It was my Dad's favorite song. And one day, after getting kicked accidentally in the testicles by my friend, "The Jer"...my voice suddenly changed and what had been a normally young boy's voice....had now reached soprano level....but the odd thing was it only happened when I sang....So here I was joining my family and some other Hungarian friends singing Ave Maria and I was hitting high "C". 

Dad was so excited that from then on....every Christmas Eve...I was asked to sing for the family and friends. Although it's been 43 years now since I have spent Christmas with my brothers....I still sing Ave Maria here in Dallas and of course...I can still do it in my soprano voice.....and I thought I would share it with you.....Merry Christmas everyone.

 

A Thanksgiving Memory

One of the wonderful memories I have of Thanksgiving as a young kid growing up in Dayton, Ohio is when my Dad sent me and my two friends Eddie and "The Jer", downtown to buy a live turkey.

 

It was kind of a passed down tradition I guess... My two older brothers, Dave and Ricky,  always got the dreaded chore of picking out the live turkey...and they seemed to hate it....but when it came my time..I couldn't wait.....I looked forward to the day when I would have a chance to ride the bus downtown, go to the Arcade and look at all of the plump birds and decide which one would feed our family on Thanksgiving.

 

The year was 1958 and I had just turned ten years old. It wasn't any big deal back then riding the bus from my house into downtown Dayton. The neat part was it stopped right in front of my house and sometimes the driver would sit there for a few minutes to either take a smoke break or adjust his schedule if he was runnin' ahead of time.

 

I called Eddie and "The Jer" and told them, "Today is the day...we're going turkey huntin".

 

About 10 minutes later, I heard the familiar sound outside my window  of what sounded like a hoot owl......it was "The Jers" way of signalin' me that he was outside and waitin' on me....We both would do it at each other's houses...3 loud Hoo Hoo Hoos...followed by  another phrase...."Oh Skeeter" or "Oh Jerry"..dependin' on who was callin' who.

 

"The Jer" never really liked comin' in my house....although he was always welcomed....my brothers would kinda stare at him and wonder why he was so odd....Ricky would do the fake punch-like thing  and make "The Jer" flinch and then laugh at him.

 

 

We went outside and just then Eddie showed up on his Schwinn bike that had been put together with spare parts...Eddie was limpin' a little when he got off the bike from a slight injury he had the previous day when he got his pant leg caught in the bicycle chain and it flipped him over the handlebars and he scraped his leg.

 

We were in luck and didn't have to wait long for the bus......a lot of people from the neighborhood would walk to our house and stand there and wait on the bus...in the summertime, it was a great place to sell Kool Aid for ten cents....but a lot of the little girls in the neighborhood, particularly a little Asian girl from two blocks away,  were forbidden to walk near "The Kender Boy's House"....in case one of us was out there throwin' water balloons or in some cases...shootin' a moon....but for the most part it was a safe neighborhood.

 

We climbed on what we referred to the electric bus as the "yellow banana" and proceeded to walk to the rear...Back then, we never had a problem about going to the rear of the bus...heck, it was where you could do stuff and not get caught. "The Jer" started to look around for any loose change and Eddie stared out the window lookin' for that little Asian girl.

 

Around Helena Street, a couple of greasers got on board  and walked back our way....one of them, with his duck tail haircut all slicked down, gave us one of the fake punch things and made us jump...and he laughed with his yellow teeth showin and then did it two more times. His buddy proceeded to carve his initials with his switchblade in the back of the bus seat metal brace and we kinda kept our heads down and didn't watch..but I saw "The Jer" lookin and I could tell he was wantin' to do the same thing.

 

We got off the bus, just before we got downtown...and right before the bus crossed the Little Miami River. This river was one of several in the Dayton area that some how, some way, found it's waters eventually pouring into the great Ohio River...we always dreamed about takin a raft down the Little Miami but that day the only thing on our mind was gettin' that turkey.

 

After we got off the bus, we walked to the bridge...it was kind of a routine we had always done....we got off the bus...crossed halfway over the bridge and stood there and spit for about 10 minutes. "The Jer" was real good at spittin' and he also could let his spit hang down for almost a foot and then let it go....sometimes he would even suck it back into his mouth and we would all just about gag watchin' him.

 

We crossed the river and headed down Main Street...It was Saturday morning and as usual  Jack Wymer from WING, a local radio station, was doin his Saturday morning, "Man on the Street Show".....we stood there and watched and made some loud bird noises in hopes that we could disrupt the show...."The Jer" even tried to make fart sounds with his hand in his armpit  and see if the microphone could pick up the sound....the assistant ran us off after a few minutes.

 

A few blocks later, we got to the Arcade....the giant tall glass doors reflected our images as we walked in and we all made faces at ourselves.....The Arcade was host for a number of businesses including the best soft pretzels in the world....Also, it was the first place I ever had a hot pastrami on an onion roll which today still is my favorite sandwich. We looked all around , eatin' free samples and would stop to watch as the butcher would chop off the heads of big glassy eyed fish with one whack of his cleaver.

 

We headed over to the live turkey and chicken area. The place kinda had the birds outside because the poop smell was so horrible...you would look around at which bird you wanted being careful not to let one peck at you or get his spurs in you. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a big ole Tom and I thought.."Yep, that's the one".

 

The shopkeeper grabbed him by his neck and said..."Do you want me to dress him here?".....Well, "The Jer" he just started laughin and almost spittin his one fake false tooth out and me and Eddie stared in bewilderment not knowin what in the heck the guy meant....I mean was he gonna put clothes on this turkey? ...He just stared at us and said "$2.00" and began helping the next customer.

 

I grabbed the turkey by the legs and stuffed him in a gunny sack that I had thought to bring with me. I had never gone with my brothers, but at least I knew I had to carry him somehow. He was a floppin all around and makin' kind of a racket and "The Jer" banged the sack on the cement floor and he kinda quieted down. 

 

After payin' for the turkey, our bus fare (10 cents each) down, and allowing for 30 cents to get back home....I had enough money to buy a bag of popcorn that we all shared and a coke with 3 straws.

 

We went out of the Arcade and got on the east side of Main Street and waited for the next bus that said "Redwood" in the sign on top. The ole Tom started flappin again when we got on the bus and the driver gave us a eagle-eye glare and asked what was in the bag......"The Jer", who was always quick on his feet with a good lie, said...."Oh, it's my accordion, I think I forgot to turn it off".....we headed to the back of the bus and on our way home with "The Jer" lookin for more loose change and Eddie and I starin out the window and wonderin' if the gum underneath the seat had been any of ours from the trip down......not that we would eat it or nuthin'.

 

After we got home...Eddie got on his bike, but first strappin' his pants to his leg and dreadin' the pump up Wampler Drive, one of the steepest hills in the world....."The Jer" came inside and we used the bathroom together tryin to cross our pee streams and at the same time tryin' to sink my Dad's cigarette butts that he had flipped in there. "The Jer headed home after Ricky gave him a fake-punch and made him flinch again and I went in and watched television on our little yellow screen Zenith.

 

A little while later Dad hollered..."Tommy, where's that turkey I sent you to get?".......I had left it outside cuz it was startin' to smell read bad from all of the turkey poop it was makin.

 

I hollered back "He's in the garage"......Dad came in and said..."Why in the world didn't you put him in the refrigerator?..."

I laughed and said "He woulda pecked me to pieces"

Dad said, "Is he alive?"

I said, "Well, he was last time I checked"

Dad shook his head and said something about him needin to go to confession for the cuss words he was thinkin'

Mom came in and tried to console me and said..."Tommy, I think when your Dad sent you for the live turkey, he wanted you to get it dressed afterwards"..."Didn't the butcher ask you that?"........I looked bewildered again and she just smiled......that was Mom. 

I looked at her and said......."Dang it Mom...how come growin' up is so hard."

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.

Are you, your brother's keeper?

 Editor's note: My neighbor, Adolph Enthoven,  has since passed away. ( UT Dallas Mourns Accounting Expert ) He died on  Mar. 15 as a result of complications from his fall and UTD will have a memorial service for him on Apr. 24th. I've been asked to say a few words since I was his neighbor. As I wrote last year in the below blog, I guess I wasn't much of a neighbor...but perhaps it's a way for Adolph to continue teaching certain lessons even in the afterlife....

Today I had a message on the recorder from a woman at nearby University of Texas at Dallas (UTD). There was some anxiety in her voice yet she was determined to find some needed help. She said she was the assistant to a professor who happens to be a neighbor of mine....She was concerned about his well being and asked if I could help her.

Adolph, my neighbor, has lived in his home for over 25 years. He does in fact teach at UTD, but I couldn't tell you what subject. He has been our neighbor on two different occasions. but I couldn't tell you his last name  I've known the man for some time...and yet, as I said, I am ashamed to say I knew very little about him. .Previously, we lived two doors away from him  and since then,  we have moved back to the neighborhood. .... now he lives only 7 or 8 doors away.  Adolph is part of the 28 home owner membership in our Home Owner's Association. He is quiet but friendly. He is distant, yet gracious. In all of these years, I have never seen any visitors at his home. He minds his own business and we mind ours.

Anyone who has been around me actually knows that I know too much about their lives. It's not that I'm being nosy, I guess it just goes back to my newspaperin' days...Get the facts.....Yet, I know little of Adolph

But today, I had to enter into his world.

For years, I would see him push a manual lawn mower, the old kind without an engine as he labored to mow his lawn. I remember when we were two doors down I had offered to mow his yard but he was content with his method. A month or two ago, some workers in the neighborhood found Adolph slumped in his yard. They alerted a neighbor and the firemen came and revived him. The firemen also finished mowing his yard.



Donna, the assistant, was concerned because she had not heard from Adolph. for two days. He had gone home sick on Tuesday and said he would call on Wednesday and let her know how he was doing. He never called. Today, Thursday, she tried to call him again like she had done the day before....nothing.....no emails, no phone calls. She became very concerned and yet as we had discussed on the phone, she knows he is a very private person and although she has worked for him for 15 years, she knew which lines she could and couldn't cross. But as I said, she was determined.

Apparently Adolph had our phone number either as an emergency contact, although we barely know him or it could be the assistant had our number since Pattye, my wife,  is president of the HOA. Regardless, I returned the call. She asked if I could go and check on him.

I have to be honest.....I knew what I would find. I knew I would find his body and I would be frightened.I knew I would do whatever had to be done if he was still alive...but I was scared as hell.

I saw two newspapers in the driveway. I saw a mailbox full of mail..I knew what I would find next. I was ashamed I hadn't noticed these things earlier.

I knocked and then banged on the door..I hollered his name. I checked the windows....I noticed the AC wasn't running and yet it was 94 degrees. Adolph is known to be frugal... I prayed that he hadn't suffered a heat stroke by not keeping his house cool.

I knew I had to call the police and get in the house. They came as soon as they could and after several minutes of questions and phone calls...they broke open the door.

Adolph was in there. He was on the floor upstairs where he had lain for 2 days..... .But he was breathing. Paramedics arrived immediately and Adolph was taken to the local hospital..... I'll see him tomorrow.

I felt some shame because I hadn't been a better neighbor. I hadn't noticed the papers in his driveway. I felt blessed that I had been asked to check on him and was able to help in some little way to save his life. Although I had failed miserably at being my brother's keeper, I resolved to do better in the future.

If you've gotten to this point in this story, then I'll ask you to do one thing for me...for your neighbors sake, take a little time and check on them....none of us have such a busy day or a crowded schedule that we can't just call a neighbor, knock on a door and see how they are doing.

Growing up this was just the norm. We knew our neighbors. We took care of each other. We were our brother's keeper. Now our 8-foot fences separate our homes. Our lives have become private. We ask for nothing, we expect nothing. That's not right...Sometimes people need our care and watchful eye.

Thanks for listening.

A Sunday morning memory........people who influence your life

What was the moment in time that changed your life, or at the least,  opened your eyes and caused you to be where you are today? Was it a single event?  Was it an individual, .... perhaps a teacher who inspired you to follow in that profession?  Or did you feel like you never had a choice in the matter...or never wanted to choose?

Some of my early academic successes at Our Lady of Mercy

When the stars crossed and my  turn arrived to take a crack at the world, the event happened over the midwestern city of Dayton, Ohio. which was my birthplace, my hometown, .. and I guess it was written in the big book eons ago that this is where I would sort out the decisions I had to make, no one knows. ...you just took the ticket and got on board.

I was fortunate enough to attend a parochial grade school that gave me a solid foundation, and even after my repeated attempts to derail my train of life, I still managed to get out of there with all ten fingers and most of my knuckles still in working order. And then onward,  my attempts to what would be the continuation of my academic successes in life, my high school days at Fairview High School.  I have hundred of stories of those days that I share often, but back to the persons or events that helped make me who I am today. 

It was a high school Journalism teacher from Northridge High School, in Dayton Ohio. He was the manager of the Jewish Community Center during the summer, and I worked there each summer, from '66 through '69,  upon my return to Dayton from the University of Oklahoma. Ben Campbell, shared thoughts and ideas all day long and he told me in so many words, while his walrus-like moustache moved up and down as he spoke, "Life is going to throw you a whole lot of pitches...some fast balls, some curve balls and some right down the middle of the strike zone....just keep your eye on the ball and you'll know which one to hit.....swing at it like there's no tomorrow and you'll hit a home run".

I took Ben's advice and even though I struck out a few times and even occasionally got hit by the ball I've managed to find what I was searching for....I found that purpose.......I'm a story teller and that ain't half bad........and I think Ben would have liked that.

A Broken Wing and a Broken Heart

I live each day...just a day at a time....I live my life with the firm belief that things happen for a reason.....It's the only way I could have lived all of these years, if I wasn't supposed to be here for a reason......and dang it, it happened again today.

As luck would have it, there was a beautiful mottled pigeon kinda walkin' around the front yard with what appeared to be a broken wing. I didn't bother with it at first , hoping that maybe it would just go away and I wouldn't have to do anything...but I knew before the end of the day, we'd be dropping him off at a bird clinic somewhere.......and we did.

That was all and good...but the rest of the story is what breaks my heart.....we took the bird to the Richardson Animal Shelter after Pattye had checked around the Internet to see where we could get some assistance......I must tell you...this is a first class facility......it made me proud to be a citizen of Richardson, Tx. after seeing what a clean, orderly, friendly place that houses lost and abandoned pets.......

We dropped off the pigeon that I had captured and left it with the gentleman at the front desk after being reassured it would be taken care of......and then....and then...we should have just left...but we didn't......I asked if it was okay to look at the dogs.......

 

As I said the facility is spotless, the dogs have a "run" inside and outside, little nylon beds to get them up off the floor and plenty of room to exercise....they looked healthy and well taken care of despite the fact they were lost or abandon.

We've been dogless for over 12 years now ever since our English Springer Spaniel had to be put down. I have to admit, it's comfortable not having to worry about getting home to let the dog out or finding some way to have her cared for when we travel....but even still...it's nice to have that feeling of a dog at your feet at night.

So we walked the aisles several times looking at each dog, commenting on each one, wondering why they were in there...perhaps  lost or abused or who knows. Some were skittish, some were scared, some were hungry for love...each one kinda sayin "pick me, pick me".

Well, I saw a mixed kinda shepherd maybe, kinda spaniel...and she just was desperate to be petted. she's the black one near the end of the video that I spend a little time with. Actually, she's the farthest thing from what I have been looking for...I'm trying to find just a good ole' yeller dog that just kinda lays around...My days of runnin' and exercising and trainin' a dog are kinda over...I'm tired...I just want to put my hand down, have it licked and that's about it....but Dang it, "Molly", (we named her already) just wanted to be loved.....

We took her outside and walked her around...she was wanting to run and was pretty high strung but as I talked to her she calmed down and just waited for her next command while her ole tongue hung out the side of her mouth. We talked about if we were making the right choice living such a long time dogless and quite honestly, Patttye was more onboard with this than I was.

We went back inside and decided to adopt her......Richardson had discounted the fee to only $3.00 in conjunction with this weekend's Wildflower Festival and we discussed it some more....

At that point, I decided I just wasn't sure if Molly would be the calm dog I was looking for. I just wasn't sure. My plans were to have her with me all day long, riding in the cab of my truck....bein' at my feet at home...but I was a little concerned how she would be when left alone at certain times of the day..........

I took her back to her cage......rubbed her ears and told her, "Molly. you'll find a good home"....she looked at me and said "What did I do wrong?"

Tonight, I'm blogging ...both to pass the time and to tell you my story..........I wish Molly was at my feet.......I might just go there tomorrow and bring her home.

A Mothers Day Message

Hi Mom. 

Happy Mother's Day...I know. I know....I don't call enough....I'm sorry....Yes, I know you like hearing from me and yes, I agree, calling you on Mother's Day is like going to church once a year on Easter.

Dave. Me, Mom and Ricky

So...how are you feeling?.....I know you don't have any pain any more and for that I'm happy. And, I know you get to see Dad everyday now. I'm sure he's enjoyin' himself and probably reading and taking naps whenever he wants to. 

I'm sure you and Ruth Dilts talk everyday now, just like you did for practically every day of your lives.  I can't believe you find new things to talk about each day.

Things are okay in Dallas, but I hear and read the landscape is changing in Dayton.....Fairview and Colonel White are now gone and they're tearing down Julienne as well. Loos is gone too but Our Lady of Mercy is still there....Shawen Acres is soon to be nothing but rubble. We did save the stained glass windows at Fairview High School  that you commented on one time. I guess I never noticed them at the time while going to school.

Dave's feeling a lot better ever since his what he likes to refer to as a heart  "incident" and Ricky finally has that little grandbaby he has always wanted and  I know he'll be a great grandpa. I know he misses Ann, but I know you are taking care of her there with you.

I still take it a day at a time and I finally went to the doctor and got a pretty good report. I finally gave up smoking after 50 some years and I kinda watch what I eat.

I'm working hard to finish my book......yes, I know some of the stories are a little embarrassing...but heck, I think people will enjoy them.

Say "Hi" to "The Jer" for me and Eddie. Eddie reminds me each day of some of the crazy things we did growing up and I know you prayed every night I would come home safe. I guess God heard your prayers. 

I miss you and think of you daily. Several of my friends have been joining you these past few years and I know you watch out for them. 

I'm stayin' out of trouble for the most part and I kinda try to be a good person like you taught me to do. 

I love you, Mom,

Tommy

Shawen Acres. a piece of history, awaits its fate...

And once again, another piece of history awaits its destruction.

True, I'm partly a sentimentalist. But that's okay. It means I have feelings and compassion.

True, I'm partly a realist. It means I accept the way things are and adjust to the situation.

True, I'm partly a pragmatist. I want what's best and practical for the people.

But where does it stop. Who finally stands up and says, "No more".

With the instant access to news sources available, I make it a point each day to read the on-line newspaper of my childhood hometown, Dayton, Ohio. The news there is not much different from news in any other Midwest town or city, nor for that matter,  no different than what I read in the Dallas papers. Crimes, successes  new openings and yes, closings all permeate the stories as I look for familiar names or places to help me have a thought or two about a period of my life that was fun and peaceful. It seems though like there are more closings than I would hope for.

Of course, schools and other buildings have a life expectancy and we shouldn't want them to live out their declining years on a respirator while we pump hundreds of thousand of dollars trying to keep them alive simply for sentimental reasons. But that doesn't mean we can't find a way to pay our respects to what they stood for, both literally and figuratively.

One of the cottages that was home to hundreds of kids

I saw yesterday that Shawen Acres, in Dayton, was soon to meet it's maker with the removal of the remaining crumbling buildings that once served as an orphanage in my neighborhood. It served that purpose for half a century and as the system found new ways to house young children through foster homes, it no longer served its intended purpose.

I grew up with several kids who called Shawen Acres their home. I practiced football on the grounds while a student at a nearby catholic school. There were good kids and not so good kids that lived there....the same as any neighborhood. And now, unless a last minute reprieve is offered to relocate one of the stucco cottages with tile roofs to possibly Carillon Park....the memories, albeit some good and some bad, will disappear with the buildings.

Another institution that will now soon be all dust and rubble, was Julienne High School and of course, if you read this blog regularly, you will know Fairview High School  met it's demise earlier this year. Thousands of students went to these schools over the years and now only their faded memories will be left. And of course, Fairview High School was where I learned to become a man.

I'm not trying to live in the past by keeping these now relics breathing at the taxpayer's expense. But, doesn't anyone in Dayton have the forethought to plan for a way for our future generations to know our past. Why do the powers that be suddenly walk into a building that has stood the test of time, but has had absolutely no care-taking provided in the last years, and expect to find something more than just crumbling waste.

Shame on you,  city fathers and mothers. Are you simply trying to erase the past because it was an uncomfortable time for you during this period?. Or are you simply unresponsive to your citizens wants and desires. Find some way to remember your past...without it you have no compass to find your future.

Finally, I have video and audio of a "Close Encounter"

First of all, I'm not twisting your arm to read this. You came here on you own volition. I only present the facts.

Next:

Yes, this is my 4th "Encounter".

No., I haven't had a drink in over a decade.

Yes,  I smoked a little doobey back in the 60's but I never got into "hard drugs".

No, I am not insane, crazy, or confused. Although I do have a fascination with head brains. If I was younger I would go back to school and become a head-brain surgeon.

Yes, I have considered doin' a self-lobotomy, but well....I just don't have all of the equipment I need yet. Also, I have on my bucket list to go visit the frozen remains of Ted Williams at the Alcor Life Extension Foundation in Scottsdale, Ariz. Also I want to go see the kind of crazy rock formation, "Devil's Tower",  in Wyoming, where they filmed "Close Encounters of a 3rd Kind"

!st Encounter:

I remember it vividly, well that's not the word I used when I told my friends about it. I was only 7 at the time. But, I remember it well. My friend, "The Jer", and I were walking home after watching a sci-fi movie up at Loos School during a warm summer evening where they held Summer Recreation programs. Once or twice a year, the counselors would show a 16mm movie up against the wall and all of the kids and some parents would come and watch it. "The Jer"  and I sat in the grass in the front row and watched the movie as we occasionally made hand puppets that would appear on the wall. After the movie, we walked home, and while ambling down Wampler Avenue, we felt the presence of a giant round object hovering above us. We looked up and saw some images with giant round heads, a single eye in the front and red and green flashing lights. We then  ran like hell to our respective homes and never said another word about it. We swore each other to secrecy.  "The Jer" has since passed on, I think, so he can't really corroborate this story, but I will admit, we discussed numerous times the idea of "faking" our demise, so he could in fact stil be around.

2nd Encounter:

I don't like to discuss this much.... the basics are as follows. I was going through a rough period in my life. I was consuming a lot of alcohol. I saw an image  levitating horizontally  in a field. He had a long beard, was wearing robes and smiling.. He raised his hand as kind of a way to like maybe bless me (any catholics would interpret that as making a sign of the cross)...but instead he flashed me the peace sign and said, "Right on, brother".I just get a little leery talking any more about this.

3rd Encounter:

This was about 15 years ago. Both Pattye and I saw it. It was around 3 AM in the morning. She was the District Manager for Circulation for the Richardson, Texas area of the Dallas Morning News and we were out checking on her employees. The "Mother Ship"  hovered over us for approximately  3 minutes. It was about the size of the mother ship you may have seen in "Close Encounters of the 3rd Kind". Speaking of which, and this has absolutely NOTHING to do with my encounter last night. But last night  I was watching "Close Encounters" for the 78th time on Turner Classic Movies. (Close Encounters and Apollo 13 are 2 of my top ten movies).. Anyway, we used CB radios back then and her employees started calling and saying "Did anyone see that??...There were a lot of oohs and ahhs on the airwaves. Then we saw lights streaking across the entire sky. We turned on the radio and heard reports for the rest of the night on a "talk show " that had sightings from Oklahoma to New Mexico. The next day, there was simply a little blurb in the newspaper, "Space debris falls to earth"...Yeah right.

4th Encounter:

Last night I was suddenly awakened with the noise of unknown sources. I saw lights flashing. I heard strange sounds. And I stared at the sky for over 3 minutes...right there in my undies on a cool Spring night.... but the best part is I took video and audio. No doubt some of you nay-sayers will say it was simply a plane or a helicopter or me making something up. It doesn't matter. I saw it. I filmed it. I think....not for any special reason....I think I might  just be someone "they" are interested in.....  Please do not call me on the phone, you never know who might be listening. Emails are OK. 

Searchin' for a lost and lonely dog

Discussin' the search plans

Tia

Teamin' Up

 








I like dogs…. well, actually I love dogs… I mean, how could anyone not love a dog…the irony is I don’t have one…. I haven’t had a doggy around the house for more than 10 years because I just...well, I just still can’t get over the loss of my English Springer Spaniel, Sugar.  So, I surprised even myself when the call went out on Friday night for volunteers to help find a lost doggy, and I accepted that challenge.

I’m not even a very good finder of anything, let alone a dog. Last month I lost my partial dental plate and didn’t find it until a day later layin' in a parking lot at the Richardson library, but I’ll save that story for later. I also lost my grocery cart the other day and looked for it for over 20 minutes walkin’ up and down the aisles and giving people my “crazy stare” cuz I thought they stole it, but I'll save that story for later also.

Apparently a previously rescued greyhound had gotten loose from her foster family and had taken off for a densely wooded area in the far north part of Dallas. One might think that Dallas is strictly a heavy populated city packed with millions of people. Well, it is, but there are still many areas that lay undeveloped and are home to coyotes,  cougars ( the four legged kind) and I guess a lonely greyhound.

As I had said, the plea went out for people willing to search through the briers and brambles and a place where a rabbit wouldn't go and with rain in the forecast, it was suggested searchers dress appropriately. We gathered at the VCA Preston Park Animal Hospital at 10 A.M. and Joe Hoiles had maps and fliers to post and was explaining the situation. I asked if "Tia", the lost dog, would come to us if we found her and he highly doubted it. Regardless, the clinic was kind enough to donate leashes should we come across the greyhound.

The area we were looking and searching lies in a flood plain and I can remember from years ago what a gorgeous setting it was, with woods, and pastures and a winding creek with 30 foot high shale walls. Now there were homes on each side of the creek though it still was rugged.

Since I was smart enough to wear my tall rubber boots and "dressed accordingly" I offered to search the creek bed for any sign of Tia. I knew any snakes were still hibernatin' despite the warmer weather we have been havin' but I dang sure didn't want to surprise any bobcat or anything I couldn't outrun.

There were about 20 volunteers, all shapes, sizes and ages. Some dressed appropriately, some not. I did meet a charming lady, a Susie McQuade, who, along with her husband John, are the founding members of the Greyhound Adoption League of Texas. The world needs more people like Susie, who has a compassion for animals that I have rarely seen.

I haven't walked as much as I did today, in a long, long time...and it wasn't a nice leisurely walk either. I got tangled up so many times in the bramble and got scratched and snagged and poked and stuck...but all I had on my mind was finding that doggy. It rained some, and I got wet...it was cold  but I was okay ...but that dang doggy was probably cold and wet too. I whistled for her  and I looked...and I was praying she was ok.

After a couple of hours, all of the targeted areas  had been covered and I retraced my steps looking in the creek bed for tracks, and looking under thorny bushes but to no avail.

Sometimes our prayers are not answered the way we want them answered. Sometimes we don't have the answers we seek. But I want to believe we made a gallant effort to find a lost dog. A beautiful animal who had lived a tough life before a group like Susie and her husband rescued her from the pain and suffering of dog racing.

 I think Tia may have been found by some Good Samaritan and is probably sittin' by a warm fireplace wondering what all of the commotion was about. 

For me, well, it did me good to kinda remember what it was like having the wonderful moments when Sugar and I would walk in pastures and traipse through wooded areas and she would stare into my eyes just wanting to please me. And it reminded me how there are still good people in this world who are willing to give up their Saturday mornings and search for a lonely lost dog..

A tent...a lantern and a stove

A tent, a Coleman lantern and a Coleman stove........yep, that was all you needed to go campin' back in the day...actually you didn't need the stove and I guess the lantern either...well for that matter you didn't need the tent....but who wanted to rough it........I was thinkin of those items while killin' some time before a luncheon as I was browsing through a R.E.I. store.

Don't ask me what R.E.I stands for but all I know is... it is a membership-type store,  it's got everything you need to live outside in the wilderness and you better bring a truck load of cash. It ain't cheap.

As soon as you walk in the place, you have kayaks on the right followed by mountain bikes..it seems like hundreds of them ...I kinda checked out the kayaks and it reminded me of my Stillwater days, but what kind of adventure would it be if your boat stayed afloat all of the time...they were way cool though...Next came the clothing and hiking shoe department.....I guess there could be something said for having the right hikin' boot.... I mean, you might be out there for day after day and you sure don't want any blisters....but come on, they had hiking boots for $300.00 and $400.00. They had day hiking boots and night hiking boots...I know, I know there will be one or two of you hiking aficionados who will tell me $400.00 is a good investment for a dang piece of leather....I mean let's face it Lewis and Clark hiked across the good ole U.S. of A and were probably just wearin' moccasins........they even had simulated rocks you could climb on to test out your boots 

I wandered over to the tents and sleeping bags. Now when I pitched my first tent, it was in the backyard. It was canvas, it had wooden poles, and itchy ropes and metal stakes....it smelled like...um....canvas.....and if you touched it when it was rainin' it supposedly would leak in that area..it didn't matter though..it leaked wherever there was a grommet.....we did a lot of things in that tent in the backyard....some of which ended up in a police report as a result of playin' strip poker as little Skeeter kids.......you can read about that though in my forthcoming book, "Skeeter"......I think the neighbors might have put their house up for sale after that incident.

I was amazed at the tents in R.E.I.....I mean you could compress a tent that could sleep 37 people in it down to a size of a cigar box...and it only weighed a pound or two. The sleeping bags were another story...I mean, they have what I call snuggle comfort even if the temperature got down to minus 80 degrees....trust me, I ain't going campin ANYWHERE where it gets under 50 degrees let alone a minus number...some of those bags cost as much as $700.00.

I had to hurry along cuz it was starting to get close to lunch and I did check out the packaged freeze dried food section...The had all the fixin's to feed 24 people, with a 4 course dinner..including 3 dessert choices and all you had to do was add water....amazing....I remember when a couple of us went camping down to Cumberland Lake and all we took was a can of beans...and about 4 cases of beer....and that canvas tent....we didn't play strip poker...but I do think one of us ended up naked sleepin' on a picnic table.

I guess times have changed a little bit and camping isn't quite the way it used to be....it's nice having the luxuries of home...but I thought that was why you wanted to just get away

It's all about the journey.....

 (this is a condensed story from my forthcoming book,  "Skeeter")

"Headin'  downriver"

When I was a young Skeeter boy growing up in the Midwest...one of the first things we did after the school bell rang for the last time and signaled in the start of Summer, was to head down to the Stillwater River and begin our annual adventure of building the best raft in the world. My friend, "The Jer" and I would make the attempt to circumnavigate the world each year  by launching a homemade vessel constructed from fallen trees that accumulated in the nearby woods along the banks of the river. We would lash the logs together with rope I stole from mom's clothesline and "The Jer" and I would dream of migrating into the Miami River and then the Ohio River and then, ....well, we weren't sure what river came next, but we knew we would make it into some ocean.. 

I was in charge of design. I used the basic Huck Finn plan but added such things as a broken aluminum lawn chair that we nailed to one of the logs to serve as the captain's chair and a piece of plywood nailed to a broken broom handle that we used as a rudder. The rudders were never necessary though, because each year we barely made it more than a 100 feet before the rafts started sinking due to the water-logged,  rotten logs.

This probably was best however, since although  we knew we had our first obstacle in finding a way to keep everything intact once we made it to the Helena Street spillway, we weren't sure what lay ahead in our trek.....we were just happy to be attempting the journey....regardless of what the outcome would be.

And so it was.....it would be my training and basis for the rest of my life......"enjoying the journey and not to worry about failure or success...it was about seizing the moment."

It doesn't always have to be about winning or accumulating things....even Babe Ruth who everyone identified as the homerun king maintained a close race on another record....a record for strikeouts. Twenty four percent of the time "The Babe" made an out, it was because of a strikeout.

I've had a recent setback in my attempt to get these stories into print. but that won't dismay me....heck, if nothing else it gives me strength to find a way down that river of hope where all dreams come true.....but more importantly, I'm enjoying the journey....it's the journey that is the adventure.

So, it's time to find more logs, find some more rope and push off from shore once again and continue the journey.