I like my music "old" just like me....

I'm a big fan of what's commonly referred to as "Mississippi Delta Blues". There's something about hearing the simple lyrics combined with the complex guitar picking that captures my attention and draws me to drop what I'm doing and listen closely to the masters of this music genre.

I have no musical training and absolutely no musical talent, so perhaps it's my inability to create music that drives my fascination with anyone who is able to get so much feeling from a six string guitar.  When I was young we had a big old acoustic guitar around the house and my dad would sometimes do a little "finger pick'n" on it. I can still hear the strains of Wildwood Flower and other old standards that were his favorites. Sitting in the front room of our little house, cigarette hanging from his lips, and the occasional grimace when his fingers would pluck the wrong string are strong memories for me.

My dad was not a patient man, and that could easily be classified as an understatement.  He was quick to find fault, quick to anger, and quick to forgive.  It was just his nature, and the times he tried to teach me a few chords quickly brought about frustration for both of us.  He couldn't understand what was so difficult about it, and why none of it made any sense to me.  My grandpa played the fiddle, my uncle played the banjo, and my dad and another uncle played the guitar.....how could his son be such a musical klutz? Oh well, that's the way it was and I soon accepted that fact, although I'm not sure my dad ever did.

Regardless, I still appreciate those people who can write, play, and sing music. It's been quite awhile since any of the "new" music has stirred any of my emotions, so I often find myself searching for music that can truly stir one's soul.  Delta Blues does it for me, although there are a few other artists that elicit great memories from my younger days, Bob Seger, John Prine, and a few others.  Of course, the soul music of Wilson Pickett, Otis Redding, Aretha Franklin, and The Supremes will never die.

But, if you're in the mood for the smoothest, most gentlemanly presentation of the blues , you can do no better than Mississippi John Hurt. He was a classic gentleman that emanated warmth and a genteel nature that has long passed from many musical artists.  Sadly, what sometimes passes for music today would cause people like John Hurt and others to turn their heads in shame.

Artists like Mr. Hurt had it much tougher than almost anyone in the business today, but somehow their music expressed it without the anger boiling to the top.  I call it having a lot of class....but what do I know.

I've been told it's physically impossible....

Every summer there are places around the country that have what they call "rattlesnake round-ups".  Why in the world anyone would want to go out and round the darn things up is beyond me....I try to stay as far away from those critters as possible.

Some of you may remember the infamous encounter I had last year with a rattlesnake I found a little too close to where we live. You know, with grand kids running around a guy can't be too careful. That particular encounter didn't turn out as expected, for me nor Mr. Rattler.  After trying to run over him a couple of times with the FJ without success, I resorted to my trusty .357 revolver.....snub nosed.....police special.....five shots....needed six!  After the fifth shot, I had accomplished nothing more than making him very mad, and I was suddenly unarmed.  Could've thrown the gun at 'em like they do in all of the old gunfights on TV, but I had already proven my lack of accuracy.  Time to move on.

Aah, but that wasn't my first encounter with one of those slithery, venomous, creatures.  Shortly after I moved to this part of the country I was meeting with a female client who had plans to renovate a beautiful old barn into a business venue. It was a great place, but as we were walking the perimeter something grabbed my arm with the grip of a lumberjack.....man she was strong.....and could she scream....and did!  There, lying on a rock ledge was another one of those gosh darn snakes.  What to do, what to do, especially since I was incapacitated by the lack of blood flow in my left arm.  Fortunately, I'm right handed and was able to smack it with a stick I found lying on the ground.....Sure wish I would have had a stick instead of that darn revolver...

With that little interruption taken care of, we were able to continue our tour, and a few months later our community was blessed with the opening of a great place for weddings, reunions, business meetings, etc. I guess rattlesnakes don't deter a determined business woman.  Well, this seems like a good place to end my story about rattlesnakes, but I would be remiss to leave out this one last episode....my first encounter.

Seventeen years old, working on a pipeline crew in Texas.....never before had I come in contact with a rattlesnake.  Here in Texas there were many, and they seemed to enjoy crawling into the joints of pipe at night so they could slither out and greet us in the morning light. "Better watch where you stick your hand, son".  All of us became quite "aware" of their presence.

One day, a couple of us were riding down the right-of-way on the back of a flat bed truck, jumping down every 50 yards or so to pick up skids, and throw them on the truck.  Typically, one would lay your hand on the bed of the truck and swing down to the ground......where this time was lying another of those #@&*# rattlesnakes.

I've been told that it's physically impossible to reverse one's direction once your feet have left the safety of the truck bed.....Not true.  I've got witnesses.  It can be done....feet never touched the ground.and I was sitting comfortably back on the truck.....I swear it's true, but yet again, what do I know.

Hello, is anyone listening.....

When was the last time your were absolutely blown away with a company's customer service?  Especially when you were calling to lodge a complaint, or to report a problem with a product not living up to your expectations.  Unfortunately, I bet the odds are 10-1 in favor of a disappointing outcome to your call.

Why is that?  What is so doggone difficult about taking care of your customers? After all, the customer purchased your product in good faith, and in most cases just wants the darn thing to perform as advertised.

Some companies are pretty good at resolving issues, but rarely does the customer come away with the feeling that it was done without hesitation, or without demanding an ounce of flesh first. If you live long enough, however, and buy enough "stuff" you will have multiple opportunities to uncover a few companies that have outstanding customer service.

Last summer I purchased an inflatable pontoon boat from Cabela's.  It arrived shortly before a planned float trip to Arkansas, but when I finished assembly, one of the pontoons wouldn't hold air. It was leaking around the valve stem, and I couldn't get it fixed......I was not happy.....I called Cabela's.

"Hello, how can I help you?" 

A real live person answered, no automated answering service, no transfer to another department, and most of all, an attentive, friendly person listened patiently to my dilemma. That's a great start to getting in my good graces. 

"We'll send you a new boat, and pay to ship that one back.  Is that okay?" 

Yes, that would be great, but I needed it for a float trip the next week, and besides, all I really needed was a new valve, not the whole boat.  Still, I was impressed as the associate tried to help me get a boat on the river. She then volunteered to get the boat manufacturer on the line to see how quickly we could get a new valve delivered.  Wow, I'm pretty pleased with the effort so far.

"Classic Accessories, this is Nicki, how may I help you?"

What were the chances of getting another real live person answering the phone?  Again, no question that they were most interested in resolving my problem. "Will it work for you if we ship it to you overnight? And, I'm going to send you a new pontoon just in case it's not the valve that's the problem." At this point, I'm pretty well blown away with both Cabela's and Classic Accessories. Every company should put forth this type of effort to please its customers.

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to contact Classic Accessories again. This time I sent an email to request information about buying a replacement oar.  We had just returned from floating the river and I had damaged one of the oars.  When the person found that it had been just a year ago that I had bought the boat, he volunteered to send a new oar under the one-year warranty.  Once again, what a great company.  Then, when the package arrived a few days later, I opened it to find not a single oar, but a set of two brand new oars. Wow!

I advise my clients that they should always strive to astonish the customer, not just satisfy their needs. Needless to say, Cabela's and Classic Accessories have set the bar pretty darn high in my book. 

Someday I'll write about a quite different experience that my daughter-in-law had with Sears this week. I suspect she would say they failed to even step over the bar as it laid on the ground.  You might say they have a lot of room for improvement , but once again, what do I know.

My kind of place....

A couple of weeks ago I received a recall notice in the mail.  It was nothing major, just a simple repair to my Stihl weed trimmer.  It seems as though the ethanol blended gasoline that is sold in many of the stations today, is causing some issues with the gas tanks.  Again, nothing to worry about......unless the gasoline leaking from the faulty gas cap ignites when it hits the hot exhaust of the machine cradled in my hands!

I've been mightily pleased with Stihl power equipment for a long time; chain saws, weed trimmers, you name it this company puts out a fine product.  The first trimmer I bought lasted nearly twenty years, then I gave it to my son who continued to use it.  Now that's a testament to quality, because I used the heck out of that thing. So, I purchased another one....the current model which has now been recalled.  I've had this one seven years, and have abused it for that same amount of time. I just never expected anything to go wrong with it.

Regardless, I threw it in the back of the truck this morning, and made the short trip to town to get it fixed at one of my favorite Mom and Pop shops.  You know the ones, where Dad greets you with a smile when you walk in the door, and while he may not remember your name, he can remember the model of the trimmer you bought seven years ago. Then, while he visits with you, his son grabs the trimmer from your hands to fix it, and Mom takes care of the paperwork.....I love those types of shops.

These are the places the big box stores just can't begin to match when it comes to customer service, and the loyal customers who frequent these small shops know it.  How much longer will they be able to last....who knows?  When the old man retires, if ever, will his son take over, or will it just fade away like so many others have done?  I hope not, and I intend to do everything I can to help them stick around.

I can buy Stihl equipment in a lot of different stores, but I elect to frequent the places that are locally owned and where the customers are treated like they're really appreciated. Like today.  I was there just long enough to have a pleasant conversation with the owner and his wife before I was handed my trimmer, which had been fixed while we talked.  My kind of place....and I'll go back as soon as I need a replacement.  Heck, it could be another twenty years before this one wears out, and I'm counting on the shop to be there, but what do I know?

That's just a bunch of bull....

Well, I've got this young bull currently roaming the pasture, doing his darn best to spread "joy" to my small herd of cows. He thinks he's quite the man, but this is his first job and like most trainees, he still has a few things to learn about the trade. He has all the makings of being a top-notch performer, great pedigree, great physique, and a nice calm demeanor. But, alas, he has a few things left to learn.

It's been about a month since 007 (yes, that's his ear tag number) arrived on the scene.  Since that time he's had it pretty easy....no competition, willing partners, and someone catering to his every need. He's scheduled to be "on the job" for about seventy-five days before he makes his exit, and of course, we're hopeful that he will leave behind cows that will give birth to great calves next spring.

All that being said, I fear that he's recently had his ego severely bruised, if not completely destroyed.  I can only hope that he's able to recover.

Last weekend, I was rotating the cows from the south pasture where I have an abundance of cool weather grasses, to the north pasture which is primarily native grass. It's not much of a chore, just drive the Ranger to the vicinity of the gate, and they all come running. Pavlov's Theory is alive and well....see or hear the red Ranger.... run to see the nice man who drives it.....get rewarded with feed.  It works like a charm and they follow it wherever I want them to go. Part of the chore is to make sure all cows, calves, and 007 make the trek before the gate swings shut.  Where's 007?  Nowhere to be found....not a good sign.

My neighbor has a cows in an adjoining pasture and I figured it to be a pretty good bet that one of those wanton ladies had lead poor 007 astray.  It happens, and when I found the fence compromised by a fallen limb, I was 99% sure where he was.  First, fix the fence then go round him up.

The first thing I noticed as I surveyed the pasture was a really good looking bull standing guard over "his" cows.  As I got closer it was apparent that it was not 007.  This guy was much bigger....a massive hulk of a bull....with an attitude!  When he saw me approaching he immediately positioned himself between me and the cows and dropped his head......I retreated....no sense in seeing who's boss.

A few minutes later I found 007......standing all alone under a scraggly oak tree....if he was a dog his tail would have been tucked between his legs, but bulls apparently don't use that maneuver. We opened the gate, gave him a little encouragement, and he happily retreated to his home turf.

I'm not sure this story has a moral other than, as in the immortal words of Jim Croce, "Leroy learned a lesson 'bout a messin' with the wife of a jealous man"....Definitely a subject to which I can answer, what do I know?

Yogi says, "Baseball is 90% mental, and the other half is physical"....

It's a lazy Sunday afternoon here at the ranch.  Last night we had a nice little thunderstorm which brought some much needed rain, and today the sky has been filled with ominous gray clouds that have given me all the encouragement I need to stay inside and watch a little college baseball on television.  I love baseball, and I suppose that maybe I look for "opportunities" like today. 

This year the games have been interrupted periodically with some of the same storms that brought last night's rain to us.  Rain delays are a part of baseball, and if you've ever been involved with the game, you've lived through the experience of not only the delays, but playing through the occasional shower at the ballpark.

I coached youth baseball for many years and loved every minute.....even those times when the rain and cold made for miserable playing conditions. Those were "teachable moments" as I used to call them.  The times that helped mold the minds of young athletes, and to teach them that playing through adversity was just a part of being a complete player.

It was a rare Saturday morning practice for the eleven year old's who were trying their best to master the art of throwing, catching, and hitting. My role was to control the chaos while teaching the fundamentals to a rowdy group of boys with a very limited attention span.  On the field next to ours a rival team was raucously doing the same thing. They were a good team, with a big kid who was probably the best pitcher in the league. The youngsters on my team were somewhat in awe of his fast ball......

He was a good kid, but lacked discipline, and the least little distraction would often take him out of his game.  Still, I would have loved to have him pitching for us.

About halfway through the practice a light rain started to fall, and everyone scurried for the protection of the dugouts.  Our rivals started packing up their equipment and were headed for home.  My kids expected us to follow suit.....we didn't!  They ended up having the time of their lives, learning to throw a wet baseball, slipping and sliding in the wet grass and mud, and most of all......making fun of those "weenies" who packed it in with the first sprinkle.

Fast forward to the league tournament held at the end of every year.  We had a good team, but not the best team.  That honor would belong to our rivals who were now sitting in the opposing dugout for this semi-final game.  The first few innings were uneventful, and to tell you the truth I can't even remember which team was leading when we felt the first few drops of rain. I do remember that we were at bat, and I was coaching third base when I noticed the wind shift; Then, those little puffs of dust that you see when a big fat drop of rain hits the dusty field.....unbelievable.

The rest is history.  All it took was a few drops of rain, and our kids knew they had the game won. I glanced over at the dugout, and it was pandemonium. Kids were jumping up and down, the rain drops streaking their dusty faces, and smiles beaming everywhere.  What fun!  Of course there were more than a few shouts of derision aimed across the field at our opponents, and suddenly the best pitcher in the league couldn't find the strike zone.

We won that game, and I will never, ever forget that providential moment when the sky opened up and confirmed to a group of eleven year old boys that Yogi was right when he said "It's like deja vu all over again".  I love baseball and I love kids who love baseball.....and yes, this is what I do know.

It was a simple plan....

A very long time ago, a newly married couple ventured from the relative safe haven of their small hometown to see if they could make a life for themselves in the big city.  Married just five months, there were many who said the two of them were foolish to embark on such an adventure. After all, there were no jobs awaiting them, nor had they prepared themselves with a tidy nest egg if things didn't go as planned.  But, the plan was a simple one, move to the city, get jobs, and go to college.

So, on a cold January day all of their worldly possessions were loaded into a 12X60' mobile home, purchased with a loan from the friendly hometown banker, and the whole kit and caboodle was moved 70 miles south to start their new life. At least they would have a cheap place to live.....That is, if they found jobs that paid enough to make the $72 trailer payment, plus $40 for the space to park it. No problem, for like many young couples of the time, they simply had faith in each other and their ability to make it work.

Within a few weeks they were gainfully employed, one working to earn tuition money for school, and the other working to pay the living expenses.  The jobs weren't glamorous, nor were they well paying, but they were a means to an end. Was it easy?  No, but it was the first step toward becoming a self-sufficient family, and learning to work as a team to attain a common goal.

A few short years later it was graduation and time to start a career.  Once again it was a team effort, and ultimately it was a connection made by one spouse that opened the door for the first job opportunity for the other.  Continuing to follow what had proven to be a workable plan the roles were reversed, with the new wage earner paying the expenses, and the other becoming the student.

Along the way, the old mobile home was sold for enough money to make a down payment on a little house, and another milestone was achieved. At age twenty-two they were homeowners.....not easy, but with determination, perseverance, and frugal living, it was a goal that was indeed possible.

Over the years there were different jobs, different houses, and different challenges to be met. Again, sharing the load with a partner of a like mind makes the challenges of life less daunting, but it doesn't make them go away.  There are always challenges to be faced, and the road is not always of the paved variety.

Today, I hear about more and more young adults who move back into their parents' homes because they just can't make it.  Too few jobs, housing is too expensive, college loan debt is too high, and a variety of other excuses......Perhaps it's true.....or perhaps it's the result of unreasonable expectations.

Is it unreasonable to start at the bottom and work your way up?  Is it unreasonable to live in "cheap" housing until you can afford better?  Is it unreasonable to work while you're going to college and pay for it as you go? I don't profess to have the answers, I just pose the questions since what we're doing now doesn't appear to be working all that well.......But, once again, what do I know?