"Hold My Hand"

Sometimes I feel like I was never a child.

My earliest memories include somehow feeling responsible for taking care of my parents and my sisters. I don't mean this in a regretful way, its just the way I have always felt inside.

My Dad was a kind loving person, my best friend ever, and as giving as anyone I have ever known. He also suffered from alcoholism and often displayed the rage that only the family of alcoholics can know. I don't want to think about the number of times that as a small boy, I stood between him and my Mother and my sisters and did what I could to blunt his actions and words.

As I grew older, my feelings of being responsible for others began to include my extended family. At age 14, I got my driver's license (normal age in Texas at the time). Soon after, my mother's sister (Donna) contracted a serious disease and was hospitalized in Dallas. The family obviously wanted to be with her as she had no other support there. I didn't understand it at the time, but I now know that I was the only one with a driver's license (plus I could read, as in street signs, maps, etc.)(my Dad and my Mom's Dad were illiterate) Thus began a summer of driving various family members from the Wright City area to Dallas and back because they needed me.

As I grew to manhood and started my lifelong career as a cop, there were never a shortage of opportunities to "help" family with various problems, many of which were legal difficulties. I remember the night my Dad had his first heart attack. He was in the Henderson Hospital and I was understandably concerned for his future. About midnight I get a call on my cell phone from Dad's brother, Buddy, with the plea, "Since you are in town, could you come to the Kilgore jail and bond me out?" (I did). On numerous occasions I would be called in the middle of the night from some jail by Dad's brother Curtis asking for the same service. (I NEVER did)

Finally one day my Dad called to ask me to come visit him. Dad had been arrested for what was to be his last DWI offense. Due to his previous arrests, he was terrified that he would be put in jail for an extended period and that was something he feared worse than death. He ask that I go to court with him, plead his case and (oh yeah, pay the fine). I told Dad that my job was to put drunk drivers in jail, not get them out. Dad got tears in his eyes and said, "Son, please hold my hand and get me thru this".

You have to know that my Dad was by any standard you choose, one of the toughest men who have ever walked the face of this earth. For him to make that statement told me that even the strongest among us have to have someone to cling to at times (and I didn't let him down).

If you are the "someone to cling to", always remember to "hold their hands" and be their strength until it is your time to need someone and you will know that the hand holding yours is truly God's own blessing.

A DADDY'S LOVE

For reasons I can't begin to fathom, I have spent a lot of time lately thinking about how incredibly fortunate I have been in my life to experience wonderful family, interesting challenges, and a sense of accomplishment.

It hasn't all been a "bed of roses". I have disappointed myself and all who love me more times than I would ever care to recall, but through it all, I have retained my sense of self worth and tried to maintain true values. Trying to do the right thing for the right reasons at the right time, every damn time.

Some times I wish I could start over with the knowledge of life that I now have based on inevitable mistakes, poor decisions and just plain dumass. Cain't be done.

I just have to go on with life, warts-guts-and feathers, and forgive myself as my Lord Jesus forgives me (He is likely more forgiving than I as I tend to be pretty hard on myself?)

Regardless, as my family, just know that your love and life is the complete and total focus of my existence at this point and that your lives have made my brief visit in this world completely justified.

All my love to my children and my dear sweet loving wife.

OK, gang. On January 2, 2008, I confessed to 198 pounds as my new all time blubber butt record.

I also pledged to provide public acknowledgement of my dietary progress, if any, in order to give myself extra incentive to be healthier.

193 pounds this morning so down FIVE!

Not anything earth shattering, but encouraging to say the least.

How about we set a goal? I'm thinking 170-175 by June 2008.

Don't hold your breath because this may take a while?

Ya'll stay purty.

The Bucket List

There is a new movie out with Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman that everyone should watch that is called, "The Bucket List" (referring to things to do before you kick the bucket or die).

Being my day of birth celebration, I figgered I might try my hand at such a list to include matters of the heart as well as the grandiose, trivial, and sublime (in no particular order of importance):

1. At a time of their choosing, talk through and resolve any and all issues, concerns, wounds, warts, or feathers that might exist between me and my children in order to work toward the best possible paternal relationship.

2. Maximize my time with my grandchildren so that we can know each other as well as possible.

3. Become the best possible husband to my beautiful bride.

4. Build and rejoice in a house on the Tin Star Ranch.

5. Acquire a gasoline engine welding outfit and learn to use it proficiently.

6. Start fishing again (dang I used to love fishing like nothing else).

7. Make a wooden rocking chair that is strong, comfortable and aesthetically pleasing.

8. Own and drive a 1953 Chevy pickup like my Dad had for so long.

9. Build a bar b que pit and learn to cook awesome pork ribs.

10. Find the most peaceful, relaxing place ever imagined, sit back and get in rhythm with that place, and take pleasure in the soothing comfort for as long as possible.

11. In some manner, figger out how to repay an enormous debt of gratitude to my Lord and Savior for the awesome life I have been privileged to live to date.

It Really Is Just a Number

The psychological perspective of birthdays changes significantly with the passage of time.

I remember as a kid that Mom always tried to make my birthdays as special as possible within the limits of a near poverty income level. I always got to pick the menu for my birthday supper. I didn't get to improvise, but I was allowed to choose from our normal fare of fried baloney, fried spam, fried salt pork (or whatever). This was complimented by our daily "beans and taters" (and I could choose how the taters were fixed as long as it was fried or mashed)!

I feel sure I received a wrapped "gift", but I truly do not remember? The real treat was that Mom would bake a cake (I always chose chocolate), smear icing on it about an inch thick, buy a sugar based "Happy Birthday" to put on top, and finish it out with the appropriated number of candles. Birthday party?? As far as anyone outside my immediate family attending, never happened, but hey, it was good.

All great memories.

I don't remember many teen years birthdays, except 16. I somehow got it in my head that my 16th year of life was going to be magically special in unknown ways? Big disappointment. Not that it was a bad year in my life, it was just that not much changed and I didn't feel any different?

I remember year 18 because I had to register for the military draft (remember Viet Nam) and I graduated high school.

Birthday 20 was celebrated by receiving on that day a telegram from DPS confirming my appointment to attend Highway Patrol school in Austin.

21 was legal drinking age, but not a big deal from that perspective. The irony was that I could, after a year as a Trooper, finally buy my own pistol ammunition!

30 kinda got my attention for a few minutes, but I thought, "What the Hell, I'm only as old as I feel and I feel great"!

40 and 50 was the same reaction: no big deal, just a number, and it felt great to be alive and productive.

TOMORROW I TURN 58.

There are a few more aches, pains and twinges now than I can remember from the past. Plus, more each day I feel I am turning into my Dad. I start thinking about going to bed around dark. I wake up about 2:30 each morning thinking about getting up and starting the day (wishing my back, hips, whatever would stop complaining?).

My productive working career days are waning. Next month I will have been a police officer for 38 consecutive years. I started as a street cop working where the rubber meets the road and I am ending my career the same way by working daily on cases involving armed robberies, sexual assaults, or whatever the day brings (and I am loving every minute of it).

I sincerely look forward to what ever number of future birthdays may remain (please Lord let me draw some of that social security "mail box" money that Dad used to brag about). I love my Lord and Savior, I love my family, and I love life and all it has to offer.

Happy Birthday to me!

Full Circle

In 1970, my father-in-law (Bob Parsons) took me to Knippa, Texas where I was allowed for the first time in my life to deer hunt. From that experience came an absolute passion for deer hunting that lasted until about 15 years ago.

During the 80's, I was on a deer lease at Fredericksburg for 11 years. The last year I was on the lease, I realized before daylight on the opening day of the season that I was hoping I didn't see a deer because I just had no interest in it. That was such a shock to me that I decided to let the lease go the next year to see if I would miss hunting. Never over the next many years did I have the least urge to again do something that had once thrilled me immensely.

For the last 4 deer seasons I have owned Tin Star Ranch. The first three seasons I hunted, but I would see a deer, look at the gun leaning in the corner of the deer stand, and just go back to watching the deer with no interest otherwise.

For reasons I can't quite explain, this year I psychologically came "full circle". I spent the entire deer hunting season, which just ended, as excited about hunting as I was that long ago day in Knipppa. Every bit of spare time I had was spent hunting and every time I saw a deer my heart would commence a familiar pounding due to excitement.

A part of my hunting rejuvenation was due to my good friend Lynn and his 12 year old son hunting with me. The boy, James, killed a doe this season as his first deer. Seeing the excitement in his eyes and hearing him tell and retell the story meant a lot to me. Sharing the hunting experience with my friend had the same effect. Another important factor was sitting in the deer stands and seeing the moon and stars before dawn or watching the turkey, foxes, hawks, etc. that came near my location. And just as well, actually doing the hunting on "my land" for "my deer" finally made a difference for me.

Was the deer taken (one buck and one doe) a great success story - NO- but the experience was such that I am already thinking about preparation and strategy for next year and can't wait for the 2008 season to arrive.

Lardasses and Legends

I graduated from West Rusk County High School in 1968 at a lean, mean 150 pounds total body weight.

During those years, I steady worked on gaining as much weight as possible in that I played offensive center and defensive tackle on the football team (where weight mattered). I ate absolutely everything I could get close to, but could not gain an ounce?

You know the rest of the story. Over the years I ballooned up to as much as 190 pounds, but from time to time managed to work it off and get back to about 160.

Here's the deal: I got on them dang lyin' butt scales this morning and hit 198 (a new personal record).

(Try to guess what ole fat boy's New Year Resolution just became?)

I know this ain't exciting or interesting "blog stuff", but I'm hoping that public confession and ongoing blog reporting of my "progress" with this resolution might help me to "stay on the wagon" and get back down to something below "roly poly".

Stay tuned.

Oh, the "legend" part (YAWN, more history for my kids): at 150 pounds I played against boys 50 to 100 pounds bigger, but managed to be named to the All District and All East Texas football teams and was offered a scholarship to play for Kilgore Junior College after my senior year. You young'uns need to always remember that it ain't so much the size of the dog in the fight as it is the size of the fight in the dog!

THE UNSUNG HERO

I just read in a state retirees' publication that the Texas Public Employees Association is looking for nominations for the 2008 "Unsung Hero". I am thinking about nominating yours truly.

When I was a Highway Patrolman, I knew that Sergeants could fire you with no justification and that Captains were at the right hand of God. (I didn't know the role of Lieutenants?) One day I was promoted to Lieutenant and likely perceived that some degree of recognition would occur.

I ended up in the state headquarters office working for Gladys (the Highway Patrol Chief's secretary). Gladys had a phrase that I hear in my sleep at times, "That's Lt. work" (some menial distasteful task that was beneath the dignity of the janitors?) So much for fame and glory in the lieutenant ranks?

I arrived at HQ July 1982. Come December, I was given the task of coordinating the DPS HQ Christmas Program (a joy, no doubt)? You would need to know that the Colonel at the time would announce the day before that all employees were dismissed at noon on the day before the Xmas break. It is also pertinent that the DPS Xmas show was at 1PM (guess how many showed up?).

The "old pros" told me that attendance was dismal, in part due to the "DPS Choir" singing endless songs at the program????? Being proactive (in my case often meaning "dumass") Iasked the 30 year choir director (a low paid clerk named Clara) to limit the number of songs sung in order to increase attendance. Bottom line, I unwittingly insulted Clara (the Xmas program was her one time per year to be a "honcho" at DPS) and she mounted a campaign for no one to attend the program due the "baby" Lt. obviously not wanting any Christmas spirit at DPS.

On the day of the program, there were as many chairs in the HQ cafeteria as it would hold. Those chairs were filled by the headquarters Highway Patrol command staff (laughing their butts off), the Colonel/Asst. Colonel, me and the now deceased public information officer, David Wells (AND NO ONE ELSE). There were likely 300 vacant chairs (with the new Lt. feeling like a total "dork".) The only "program" presented was a brief oration of the Christmas story. David Wells (the emcee) opened the program by acknowledging those present and thanking the coordinator (me).

To this day, I remember (in my shame and embarassment) David introducing me (with a tongue in cheek reference to ending the 30 year choir tradition) as the "UNSUNG HERO". I don't deserve the 2008 TPEA reward, but obviouslythey should name the award after me????????

(Always remember that humility can be a virtue, no matter how painful the experience may be)