Buckshots

      My friend and fellow ’68 graduate of Sherman High School, Bobby Ward, and I are the only people I know who have shot themselves in the foot.   It is extremely painful to shoot yourself in the foot and equally embarrassing.          There is simply little pity associated with this type of accident.  Folks assume you were playing around, perhaps doing a “fast draw”, when you blast off a round into your foot.  You then hop around, curse and look rather comical…even though it hurts like blazes.  It is not unlike getting smacked below the belt and dropping to your knees.  The “Funniest Home Videos’ are always showing footage of someone getting hit in the crotch, folding up in pain, while the audience howls with laughter.      I was playing in Sherman’s church softball league one summer and a ball was hit, rocketing off the bat at about 3 feet above the ground, until it connected with my “huevos ...

     I began 9th grade at Piner Jr. High in the fall of ’64, at the old location on King Street.   I had already put in two years at the school and felt I knew the lay of the land.   I got through science in the 8th grade with Mrs. Tocquigny.   I thought she was very nice, even though she did administer her paddle to my precious hiny on numerous occasions.   She always gave me fair warning, didn’t seem to enjoy it and pled with me to keep my yap shut during class as she attempted to mold young minds.      Science in the 9th grade was a totally different experience.  We had a coach as our science instructor.  He brooked no nonsense, nothing normal was funny, he mocked students on a regular basis, had a sadistic streak and did not particularly enjoy teaching or teens.  It appeared he was required to do something in addition to coaching and all the Driver’s Ed. spots were taken.  I felt we had better give...

      I have endured a number of embarrassing moments in my life, usually brought on by myself.   I hit an all-time low point in the early 70’s, when I actually wrote a “hot” check to Dallas Cowboy legend, Don Meredith.       I was attending Austin College in Sherman, Texas, while reading the news on the local NBC affiliate, KXII-TV - Channel 12 in the evenings.   I would also fill in occasionally and assist my old compadre, Commodore Wood, as he broadcast the Sherman High Football games on KRRV radio on Friday nights.   I provided “color” commentary and always enjoyed an opportunity to work with Commodore.          One Friday evening, we were broadcasting from Bearcat Stadium, as the Sherman Bearcat’s were  doing battle with the Highland Park Scots.    Someone came into the booth and said they had just spoken with Don Meredith, who was with friends from Dallas and they were all taking in the g...

I have received a note from my blogger page indicating we have had over 20,000 views of my  little blog.  They suggested I start including advertising.  I hate blog advertising.  As you read a story, an ad pops up… you have to stop, delete it and sometimes get redirected anyway. I thought instead, I would try a trial run with the old style advertising as used in the early days of radio and TV.  This is where the product was actually introduced in the story…such as, with Matt Dillon in the old “Gunsmoke” series.  “You know Chester, we may be up here in these rocks a long time, waiting  for the Ned Logan outlaw gang to return to their hideout.  It’s a good thing we have these flavorful L&M cigarettes with us.  Ah, (inhales) great tobacco taste and all the flavor of the old west.  A real smoke, my smoke, Matt Dillon, U.S. Marshall and loyal L&M cigarette lawman”. If there are a number of viewers, I will bill the mentioned p...

      My bride, Mizz Nancy, and I live near four of our grandchildren in California and get to watch their activities.   We went to our first-grader Bellamy’s assembly at school where she received an award for acceptance.   This child loves everyone and demonstrates God's love to all around her... I am going to run her for mayor.             I looked out over Bellamy’s gym and saw row after row of elementary school boys and had flashbacks to my days in the primary grades.  My teachers would have worked to keep the boys separate, because little boys can be troublesome and nasty.      We had one particular desperado who I recall was named Stanley.  He was in my 2nd grade class in Sherman, Texas and was one of the most confident, self-assured people I have ever met.   Stanley ALWAYS wore cowboy boots.  When it was warm he would wear them with shorts and when it got cold, he would tuck h...

      As we celebrated Christmas throughout my childhood, I spent a lot of time with kinsmen who grew up poor during the depression.   They “tsk- tsked” the relative orgy of gifts we received, while feeling compelled to tell us how rough they had it growing up.   It became a competition to detail how poor they were and how we should pity their plight when they were my age.      Stories abounded about their meager gifts and how glad they were to receive them.   We were told we should be ashamed of ourselves for asking for specific gifts and we should be grateful for what we received.   “Why, when I was your age, all I received for Christmas was a piece of hard candy and new shoelaces.”        OK, that’s pretty rough…but when it did not receive the proper response after the 20th telling, it changed to, “Why, when I was your age, all I received was a strand of barbed wire to use as shoelaces in my work boots.”...

       I have struggled my entire life attempting to embrace and love Santa.      However, ever since I can remember he has seemed arrogant, pompous and intrusive.   “He sees you when you’re sleeping, he knows when you’re awake”?…”He knows if you’ve been bad or good, so be good for   goodness sake”???   Santa struck me as scary as clowns…(I do not trust clowns, the Lone Ranger or anyone who hides their face.)      Even as a little kid, the definition of “good” seemed arbitrary and does this scary pervert see us sleeping and probably in stages of nakedness, as we prepare for bed?  How does one define “good”?   If one is not “good”, he receives no gifts?  By whose interpretation is one good?  I was always told we received gifts from Santa and gifts from our parents, often wrapped in the same paper.  I felt if the “poor” kids in town we were collecting for in class needed help, Santa could ...