Probably not the nicest thing I ever did....

It was just after dinner time at our house. The time of the evening when my dad would settle comfortably into his easy chair, pick up the latest Mickey Spillane thriller he happened to be reading, and make it known that for a few hours he expected to have a little peace and quiet. The constant squabbling of my younger sister and me, plus dealing with a seventeen year old daughter who pretty much knew everything, made peace and quiet an impossible request.

The time would have been in the early sixties and I was eleven years old.  A time of political unrest, and a time when racial tension was beginning to grip the nation. For the most part our little community, and our little family, was insulated from most of it, although it was apparent from the six o'clock news stories that it was becoming an issue that would eventually affect us all.

But, here in our little home, all was well....

We didn't have a doorbell so  most people who came calling would open the screen door and rap on the flimsy wooden door to get our attention. Bam, bam, bam.....Dad laid down his book and looked around the room to see who would answer the knock at the door. I glanced out the window and knew it was trouble, but my little sister was already opening the door.  "I'm here to talk to Rocky Marciano". It was my sixth grade teacher, Mr. Grundy, and  though my parents didn't, I knew exactly why he was here.

Earlier that day, there had been an "incident" at school, and I was, shall we say, involved. Ronnie and I had been at each other for a few days, nothing major, just an occasional shove or poke when no one was looking. During morning classes I was walking to the front of the room when Ronnie stuck out a foot to trip me. I saw it in time to avoid the obstacle, but took the opportunity to step on his foot.....Probably not the nicest thing I ever did, and the stage was set.

School let out at noon and everyone headed for the door. We barely made it outside before the fists began to fly, but like most grade school fights, there was little damage done before Mr. Grundy pulled us apart. We had had our spat, shook hands and were friends again. No harm, no foul, except Ronnie was black and I was white. Fortunately, no one made a big deal out of it, but my parents had to be informed, and of course that resulted in further punishment at home.

There was nothing racial about our little scuffle.  It was just two boys trying to prove their manhood. Our school was integrated, and all of us played, yelled, tussled, and made-up on a regular basis. Just kids being kids. I still have very good friends from those days, and color doesn't seem to be the discerning factor.

Those years helped shape us into the people we are today and I like to think we all learned a little from, and about, each other. No doubt we had some trying times, but we also created some great memories. Of course my perspective is skewed, as is the perspective of my black friends. It's my belief that different perspectives shouldn't build walls, they should instead, be bridges to understanding....but again, what the heck do I know.

Little Jack or Big Jack....

"Hello"

"May I speak with Jack please?"

"Little Jack or Big Jack?"

This would have been a common telephone conversation, starting when I was about thirteen years old.  Prior to then it was fairly easy to discern when my friends were calling, or when the call was for my dad. But, as young boys' voices began to change, it became more difficult to determine the age of the callers, therefor, the "Little Jack" or "Big Jack" designation became common identifiers. Thank goodness no one in our house came up with the dreaded "Junior" as my identity!

This went on for several years, and in fact, many years later, at my dad's funeral, one of my dear friends commented that "Big Jack couldn't have ordered a better day for us to be here".  It was a beautiful  February day, and my friend's comment was in response to a flock of geese flying over as we gathered at the cemetery.

There is no doubt that this same friend had very fond memories of Big Jack. You see, as we got to be teenagers, acquired cars, and seemed to always be getting ourselves into compromising situations, Big Jack was the "go to" guy.  He was the adult that they could call at any time and find a sympathetic ear and a helping hand.  He was the guy my friends would call knowing he would keep their latest misfortune in strict confidence, especially where their parents were concerned. He understood the adage, boys will be boys!

My mom answered the call at about 2:30am, and I heard her muffled voice as she roused Big Jack. I couldn't hear the conversation, but shortly my dad walked down the hall and said, "Get up, we've got to go rescue Randy".  No ranting or raving, nor any apparent anger at being rousted out of bed in the middle of the night. Actually I sensed a smile crossing his lips as I struggled out of my nice warm bed and into my clothes. Just wait until I get my hands on my so called friend.

A few minutes later we were on our way across town, where Randy had managed to get his brother's corvette stuck on a railroad crossing. Exiting a well known "parking" spot, he had missed the edge of the road and the car was sitting squarely on the tracks with one wheel dropped in a hole. Big Jack surveyed the situation, had a good laugh as he glimpsed Randy's girlfriend in the front seat, and proceeded to pull the car out as we joked about the possibility of an oncoming train. No train appeared and the whole event was soon forgotten.


A year or so later, another friend was driving his father's pride and joy. It was a brand new, mist green, Buick Electra, and Jim had borrowed it for a special date.  You would have thought the story of Randy's exploits would have discouraged others from attempting the same maneuver, but as I mentioned, that event was long forgotten. Jim ended up in the very same predicament.....stuck on the tracks.

I'll never know if Jim was on his way to give Big Jack a call.  As he trudged to the nearest gas station, a light appeared down the tracks.....

As I recall, it made the front page of the local newspaper, "Teens escape unscathed".  Okay, I made up the headline, but I bet Jim remembers it very clearly.  Yes, very clearly indeed, but what do I know. 

"Dad" is waiting patiently....

To be awakened from a sound sleep by the jangling of the telephone is rarely a good thing, and so it was early yesterday morning at our house. Elizabeth looked at the Caller ID and said "It's the nursing home".  Her mother has resided there since February, the consequence of a stroke that left her with the inability to care for herself and live at home. What now?

"Mom's had another stroke and is non-responsive" was the whispered response to my questioning look.  While not a complete surprise, it was never the less very sad news for us.

Just this past weekend Elizabeth and her sister, Donna, had taken their mom out for pizza and a drive in the country. It was questionable whether she knew either of them, but she enjoyed the outing anyway. Her mind has been slowly shutting down in the months since her first stroke, and it was becoming increasingly difficult for her to recognize people and perform even the simplest of tasks. A truly sad progression for a woman who had been feisty and fun for all of the time I'd known her.  She often referred to me as her "favorite son-in-law", knowing full well I was her "only" one. Our relationship was special.

If there is a silver lining to this tragedy, it's the compassion with which God has enveloped and protected her from the loss of her husband who passed away earlier this year.  She had said for as long as I can remember, "I don't know what I would do without Dad".  God heard that plea, and her first stroke occurred shortly before "Dad" died.  She has no recollection of his passing, and would sometimes still speak of him in the present tense.

Today, she is lying in the hospital while all of us await the inevitable. Whether our wait is short or long is in God's hands, and we simply pray for a peaceful transition when the time comes.

While her voice has been silenced, she knows, as do the rest of us, that "Dad" is waiting patiently for her to join him for their eternal journey together. Life goes on, not only for those who are still earthbound, but for all those who shall have everlasting life.

EPILOGUE: Doris and George are now together again.  "Mom" passed away quietly at home on September 13, 2011. 

Ah, day after day of seventy degree temps.

Here it is, another hot weekend in August. This summer has been one of brutal, unbearable heat, and today the prediction is for triple-digit temperatures yet again. I've lost count of the number of days that the high temperature has exceeded one hundred degrees, but suffice it to say, that it has simply been "too many".

Over the past several years we've invested a fair amount of work, time, and money in landscaping the grounds around the ranch. The house is situated on about four acres, and we try very hard to keep that area mowed, trimmed, and looking presentable.  In a typical summer we nurture an abundance of annuals, perennials, ornamental grasses, wild flowers, and decorative plantings in the gardens around the house.....This, however, has not been a typical summer.  The Hostas have crispy leaves, the Coral Belles have no color at all, and the Rain Lilies need rain.

Hot and dry.  I'm so tired of hearing that forecast that I've just quit watching the weather. Heck, I can learn that same information by watching the slow, wilting death of everything in the yard that's supposed to be providing vibrant colors and deep green foliage. There just isn't enough water in the well to provide for all the needs this summer, and given the choice, the needs of the residents of the house take precedent. Sorry plants, but you finish a distant second when it comes to meeting your needs or mine.

Of course, it's not only the lack of water causing the gardening issues, it's also a lack of motivation and energy.  When facing day after day of oppressive heat, I find it difficult to get these old bones outside to pull weeds, trim dead blooms,  or rake the mulch back in place......basically, I find it much easier to sit inside, cold drink in hand, and enjoy the air conditioned comfort. 

A few weeks ago, we decided that this summer's gardening is a lost cause. On one hand I hate to just give up, but on the other hand I'm somewhat relieved. Next spring will be here before you know it, and we will start afresh with new plants and new ideas. 

In my mind I can see it all now......day after day of seventy degree temps, with just the right amount of rainfall, and no pesky moles or armadillos.  Yes, life will be good next spring......for life "springs" eternal.....but once again, what do I know?

For the most part, life is good....

I guess you could say this past week was a milestone of sorts, that is, if you call attaining the ripe old age of sixty a milestone.  But, that's exactly what happened to me.  Sixty years old, how can that possibly be? Why, it was just a few short years ago that I graduated from high school, and just a few years after that when Miss Elizabeth and I were wed.  Oh yeah, that was the other part of this milestone week....the celebration of forty years of marriage occurred last week as well.

So, I've now been married for two-thirds of my life.....the old 40-60 ratio has arrived. I vividly remember when I would look at those old-timers who had reached this point in their lives and wonder how it was they were still able to carry on full, productive lives.  My, how one's perspective changes over time.  I don't feel old, except for the occasional ache or pain that makes it difficult to get out of bed in the morning, or to rise after sitting for too long in one position. For the most part, however, life is good. 

We have two sons who are grown and have families of their own, which of course makes us grandparents.  Oh yes, life is good when you are a grandparent!  What a delight it is to see that youthful exuberance as the grand kids experience everything that is new to them, and allows us to experience again, the things we sometimes forget to enjoy. Things like sitting on the fence and rubbing the soft nose of the horse, or picking wild flowers for grandma to add to her ever expanding collection. Is there anything better than that?

Last week we were blessed to have everyone here to help us celebrate our anniversary, my birthday, and more.....What else you say?  Well, two of our grand children share an August birthday too.  Not only an August birthday, but the same day.....which just happens to coincide with our anniversary. Definitely reason to have a major celebration wouldn't you agree.

Ah, but that was last week, and now the house has returned to its orderly state. Everything is in its proper place, and quiet days have replaced the chaos of a houseful of kids and visitors. I'll never again have a sixtieth birthday, nor a fortieth anniversary, but I will always treasure the memories.  Nothing in the world is better than being surrounded by family and friends who remind you of all that is good with life, but really, what do I know.

The silence is deafening....

One of my favorite hobbies is keeping a watchful eye on all that nature has to offer daily around the ranch.  Of course we're in an area that has an abundance of wildlife, including white tail deer, coyotes, wildcats, squirrels, rabbits, and those pesky armadillos. Then, there's the bird life and birdwatching.  It's something that Miss Elizabeth and I have enjoyed for years, and even keep track of all the different species we've seen in our lifetimes.

We encourage and attract many different birds by providing them with a variety of feeding options, landscaping and housing. A stroll around our yard often yields the chance to view bluebirds popping in and out of the many houses that have been erected specifically for them, goldfinch sampling the thistle seed at their very own finch feeder, and hummingbirds by the dozens hovering around the multitude of nectar feeders, honeysuckle bushes, and flowers.  In the winter we attract woodpeckers and other species to the suet and peanut feeders.  Of course plenty of water is available both summer and winter at several locations.

Currently, we're watching anxiously as this year's bevy of purple martins is preparing to take flight for their long trek to South America for the winter; taking with them the youngsters who have been testing their wings for weeks as they gain strength and stamina for the trip.

Each spring we eagerly anticipate the arrival of the first pair of scouts, followed by pair after pair of adult martins. We prepare by erecting a couple of our four martin houses until the masses arrive, then we put up the others.

It has become a ritual, and the chirping and chattering of these fascinating birds is as much a part of our summer as green grass and the leaves on the trees.  Many mornings and evenings will find us sitting on the back porch watching their aerial acrobatics as they swoop and dive for the many flying insects that lack the foresight to avoid the area.

Last year, at the end of the season, we counted over thirty nests in the vacated houses.  This year I'm pretty sure we'll exceed that number, as each of the four houses has twelve compartments and most of them appear to be occupied, but not for much longer. It's usually early August when we awake to an eerie quietness outside. Sometimes it takes a few minutes to realize what's missing, then the sadness as it dawns on us that they're gone.

So, what does this all mean....another year is nearing an end, and time to start preparation for the fall and winter.

We received our first martin house as a gift from my father-in-law in 1975, and have been attracting purple martins ever since.  He passed away in January, and for the first summer in 37 years he wasn't here to enjoy the birds he so admired. I have no doubt he continues to view them from a far better vantage point now, but we miss his presence.  Very soon the silence from the back yard will be deafening, but in some ways it already is......

Lightning flashed and thunder rolled....

Last night I awakened to the flash of lightning. Then, the thunder cracked and rumbled down the valley. It was quite a show for awhile as the lightning lit up the sky so brightly that I could clearly see my two dogs cowering against the door on the back porch, seeking protection from the torrential rain that was pouring from a sky that for too long had been dry. 

This morning there were still clouds covering the sky, and instead of the oppressive heat, a cool breeze christened the day. It won't last; probably not even through the morning, but it was a welcome break as I headed out to do morning chores. Lately, the mornings have been hot, steamy preludes to what later turned to days that were so hot they defied description.  Temperatures have been consistently above 100 degrees, and in most cases exceeding 105.  It topped out a few days ago at 115......dangerous territory for both man and beast.

I've been concerned about having enough water for the cows and calves as the ponds continue to evaporate at an alarming rate.  I watched yesterday, and commented to Miss Elizabeth that the cows standing in the main pond weren't even getting their bellies wet. The water was hitting them just above the knees, and most of that was mud.  Fortunately, we have two additional ponds that are deeper and seem to be holding up pretty well.

The rain overnight wasn't enough to help refill the ponds, but we're very thankful to get it just the same. I drove the 4-wheeler through the pastures this morning and was gladdened by the way the grass had perked up.  It's always amazing to see how fresh things become after a nice rain, and I thank God everyday for the opportunity to witness His miracles. It was less than an inch of rain, but the impact was significant and immediate.

As I mentioned to someone earlier today, the cows were dancing, the calves were frolicking, and even old Lucky Star, the horse with no home, had a bounce in her step. Heck, even this old cowboy took some time to appreciate the morning "chill". 

As I observe the livestock I think the animals are predicting an end to the heatwave, but then, I'm quite sure that everyone looks at me and says, "What do you know"!