Rainy Day Ponderings

It has been my intention to start writing again for a very long time. Just put pen to paper or in this case finger to keyboard. That’s the problem though. I have ideas racing through my head, ninety to nothing, but I abhor the process of writing, the “labor” portion of it. So, I think I’ll start doing what my 9th grade English teacher told me oh so long ago and what many people do all around the world. Just write.

So here you go. I just sat out on the patio for the last 45 minutes watching storms roll in from nowhere. The temperature dropped about 20 degrees really quick and the winds kicked up to high gusts blowing dirt and dust everywhere. I had to bring in the pansies and tomato plants so they wouldn’t get destroyed. It wasn’t until about 30 minutes into the display that the rain finally started coming down.

I love this kind of weather. Don’t know why, I just always have. I remember when I was a kid and the storms would roll in, my brothers and I would stay out in it as long as we could. With the thunder and lightning crashing above, I fancied myself a wizard commanding the elements. All kids love playing in the rain. I think it’s a primal thing. It just brings us down to our base selves where there is nothing else but the pure enjoyment of the moment. While I sat watching, a neighbor boy could be seen racing back and forth down the street in the deluge with wild abandon. Sometimes we forget how to enjoy simple things like this.

Photo by Zach Reiner on Unsplash

Inspiration from the Ukrainian People and How to Help

I've been watching the news that comes out of Ukraine. It's hard to watch. Basically, it's your neighbor breaking in to your house all because he wants your stuff. It's all done in broad daylight while the rest of the neighborhood watches. It turns my stomach.

But many heartening stories are coming out of the country that gives me hope for them. At the borders, women and children are lined up exiting into surrounding countries, while their husbands, brothers, and fathers say good-bye, turn and head back to fight.

Being prior military, I get a swell in my chest hearing about the "Ghost of Kyiv." Look him up. The first Ace of the 21st century. Just a matter of time before his legend arrives in air combat video games! And if it turns out that he truly is a ghost, the story still serves a purpose of inspiring and rallying the country's people.

And lastly, there is Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky fighting alongside his people in the streets. When asked if he wanted to be airlifted out, he says “The fight is here. I need ammunition, not a ride.” That's how you lead a country! As I watch with bated breath, I can only say to the people of Ukraine - Give Russia Hell!

If you're feeling inspired to help, here are two articles that list organizations that are working in and around Ukraine. Time - Here's What You Can Do to Help People in Ukraine Right Now

NPR - Want to support the people in Ukraine? Here's how you can help

#giverussiahell

Growing Up and Growing Old - Reflections On My Navy Experience

On this date, 35 years ago, I entered into a contract with the United States to serve in the United States Navy. It's not something that I regret. I have often said that I would do it again, if given the choice, and I've never attempted to talk a young person out of serving, though I'm honest with them about what that service will ask of them.

I remember boarding a Greyhound bus from Monroe, Louisiana on a Sunday afternoon. My Dad took me and waited with me for the bus to arrive. He gave me his old wallet, since I didn't have one, though they would eventually make me send it back to him. You didn't bring in any unnecessary things; the military provides for you. I've only seen my Dad cry a few times in his life and that day was one of them.

I took the bus from Monroe to Shreveport, stayed the night at a hotel, went to the MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station) at 5AM Monday morning and eventually boarded a plane bound for Orlando with a slight layover in Dallas. That bed I woke up in on Monday would be the last bed I would see until I was introduced to a rack in our barracks on late Tuesday night. Yep, about 42 hours before we were allowed to sleep, and then it was wake up at 4:30AM.

Our company commanders, or CCs, were Chief Roland and Chief Livingston. Chief Roland loved to fish and Chief Livingston liked to chase me around the grinder (big parking lot like exercise area) until I puked. Eight weeks of torture, but there was a reason for it. It's better to break in boot camp than out at sea. The first morning of processing, we were waiting in the chow line and we witnessed the first drop. Two chiefs carrying a recruit between them, screaming his lungs out. Kind of scared us, but also made us resolve not to be that guy.

Oh, and they would push you. Like I said, Livingston liked to run behind me (yeah, I was the slow one) yelling for me to give up and go home. I kept my nose clean, but even that didn't get you out of anything. They have a certain event, I can't remember the cutesy name for it, that they would have where all the screw-ups would go for intense physical training. Two hours of push-ups, sit-ups, planks, etc. One night the chiefs came in with smiles on their faces and asked "Okay! Who hasn't been yet?" Yep, I got to experience it and it wasn't fun.

For all of the pain we went through, we learned a lot. We learned what our limits were, we learned how to push ourselves, and we learned above all things, responsibility and accountability. Something I can't say that I would have learned at home. And I would be lying if I said that I took it all in stride with a smile on my face. No, there were nights that I went to sleep crying wondering what I had gotten myself into and then crying when I woke up because I was still there.

We passed in review on December 27, 1986 in eighty degree weather, in dress blues, called crackerjacks after the little boy on a Crackerjack box, that were made out of wool. Great material for cold weather, but not in the heat. We had a few boys pass out.

Even though we had graduated, Chief Livingston stayed in character. Standing in a line outside our barracks with our seabags packed, Chief cracked jokes and smiled with everyone, but told me that I would never make it in his Navy. Six years later when I would get discharged, I thought of him as I walked down the brow (or gangway), and wished he was there so that I could tell him that I had made it in his Navy. That's not to say that I hated him or anything. In the end, I knew that he was probably trying to motivate me to keep going.

I do miss my shipmates and have a Facebook page where we connect and yes, I'd do it again, if I had the chance. But now I'm older and not in the best of shape, though I think that might be from some of the stupid stuff I did when I was in the service. But I am thankful every day for what the Navy made of me. Bravo Zulu to that experience!

This photo was taken in boot camp. My mother remarked that she started crying when she saw it because the look on my face made her think that they were torturing me. I laughed and told her that we were told to look "stoic" for our photos. I think I did a good job.

Dealing With Loss

I've posted here before about Joey Feek's passing in 2016 and how I watched how her husband Rory dealt with it and the raising of a little girl by himself. So many comparisons in mine and his life.

Recently he had to deal with the loss of her Dad and penned this blog post talking about dealing with the death of a loved one and he touches on the effect that it might have on his daughter. The link to the post is here (https://www.roryfeek.com/post/happy-sad) and my comment to him is below.

So sorry to hear this. My situation is similar to yours. In fact, it was after the loss of my wife in 2013 and my little brother in 2014 that I heard about Joey and and started following your stories. I cried along with you, as so many others did, when Joey passed. My daughter was only 3 when we lost Carroll. We lost her Dad the previous year, and then along the way, every year seemed to take so many more in our family. Just in the first month of this year I lost both of my grandmothers and last year two uncles within a month. My daughter has learned to deal with death at such an early age and that will make her a stronger person down the road, as will it make Indie, but you wish that your children didn't have to learn that. Watching you deal with life has given me strength in my daily trials and I thank you for that. Much love and blessings on your household as you deal with this.

Though it is said that the Lord will not give you more trials than you can handle, I've often wished that he didn't have so much faith in me. And much love to all of those that are dealing with their own trials.

Mexican Gold and Captain Stout

Stout, Texas. Google pulls it up on a map, but it's only an intersection in the middle of East Texas. A few houses, pastures and plenty of woods. But at one time it was a small community named after a pretty interesting fellow.

It was brought to my attention one night while out singing karaoke. A friend had mentioned reading some of my other stuff and loved the idea of rambling around East Texas, but she loved hearing long lost stories about the people that populated this area two centuries or so back. And one of those stories was about Stout and the rumor of Mexican gold.

There isn't a lot of info about the gold heist. All that I can find is that a group of Americans stole a mule train load of payroll from the Mexican Army. As they made their way through the area, the Mexicans were hot on their trail and so they buried it as quickly as they could somewhere south of Stout. Though some folks have made to look for it, no one has found it and it remains hidden. I did a little figuring and using some really fuzzy math figured that those mules were probably carrying just under a million dollars worth back then, but it would be almost seventy-five million today. That's enough to make me wanna break out some shovels and a metal detector. Again, not enough info to make a real go of it, but it did introduce me to a very colorful local gentleman by the name of Captain Henry B. Stout.

Captain Henry B. Stout was from Tennessee and came with his wife and a newborn to settle in Texas back in the early 1800's. After reading some of the news articles from over the years about him, they could make a movie about this man. He was an explorer, adventurer, settler, bear hunter and much more. He was a Texas Ranger at one time, the first sheriff of Wood County, veteran of the Texas Revolution and the Confederacy, and served in the Texas House of Representatives. It's not known if he actually built the community of Stout, but he did live nearby with a grist mill and freight hauling company that he ran between Wood County and Jefferson. There are several stories of him fighting bear with only a knife. He even rode with David Crockett hunting buffalo and even helped plan Crockett's last route to the Alamo. This is one man that I wish I could have met.

With all of this info, me and The Kid loaded up in the car shortly after the blizzard started thawing out and we made our trip south on 312 out of Winnsboro. We came to the intersection of 312 and 4640 and aside from a few houses, there's not much that says "Hey, this was a settlement at one time." 

We continued our journey another three miles or so down to 2088 and hung a left headed to Perryville. Just a mile further and on the right is a little park with the Stout Family cemetery on a hill overlooking it. With a chill in the air and the ground a little soggy from all of the snow and rain, we made our way up and into the fenced in site. There is a historical marker at the end near the road. It's a beautiful little overlook and if I were to want a place to settle my weary bones when it was all over, this would be a nice spot. Many descendants are buried here, but if you walk to the center of the cemetery, you'll come across Captain Stout's grave marker. It's new, and some of the others that haven't been replaced are so weather-worn that it's hard to read them. Some markers are nothing but flat stones set on end in the dirt.

It's amazing how much information is hiding in that little dash between the birth and death date. Thankfully books have been preserved and stories have made it to the internet for reading, because truly these are adventures that need to be remembered. And this is why The Kid and I like to ramble, to find these stories and see the evidence that is left behind.

Remembering Lost Ones

Today was the fifth anniversary of the death of Joey Feek. Joey and her husband Rory Feek were country musicians and very talented. Joey was diagnosed with cervical cancer and though fought it off once, it relapsed and eventually she passed.

I found a lot in common with Rory. Our wives had only turned forty when struck with cancer and we were both left to take care of our small daughters. And to this day he feels that he is still a husband to his late wife as I do. I admire him for his faith and his strength and would love to meet him one day just to shake his hand and thank him for giving me someone to take lessons from.

If you get a chance, he's got a show called This Life I Live that you can watch on RFD-TV or on Youtube. It's also a book. He still makes music and the latest one is a beautiful ode to his wife even though it was written long before her passing.

Hug and Kiss your loved ones.

The Freezening 2021

The view from my patio sums it up just fine. Lots of snow, considering it's Texas, and low temps makes me want to hibernate like a bear. I step out on to my patio like a king would man his parapets to survey his domain. "Yep, that's snow. And it's cold." Okay, domain is still there, I'm going back inside to get warm. I do all of this bundled up in sweatpants, tshirt, long sleeve shirt, housecoat and slippers. I've decided it's not worth the risk of a slip or fall to go out and partake in snow activities.

The Kid is already learning to judge patches of seemingly "safe" snow and has quit running higgledy-piggledy all over creation. She's figured that busting her behind several times is lesson enough and is demonstrating caution when playing.

If I had a big truck like most other Texans, I might decide to get out and hit a few backroads. Alas, my little Nissan Versa does not instill me with confidence, so I sit in the comfort of my apartment and cruise Facebook looking at other folks' photos.

At the time of this writing, we've got one more little patch of bad weather coming and I'm not so much worried for me, but others who have already suffered with rolling black outs or just downright lost power. Some of my friends back in Dallas are still waiting on power after twenty-four hours without. I've lowered my thermostat and put on a few layers of clothing, but haven't had any outages yet.

That could be coming though. The apartment complex I live in is weird about it's electricity distribution. I noticed during a power outage last year, shortly after moving here, that one half of the complex got power back a full fifteen minutes before our half. I jokingly assumed that folks on that half maybe paid more rent for that luxury. Same thing happened last week, with power going out for about an hour early in the morning, but the other side of the complex didn't even blink. I wouldn't have probably known about it except for two things. One, I'm that guy that sleeps with fans on. That sudden onslaught of silence wakes me every time. Two, I have a c-pap machine for sleep apnea. Basically, I wear a mask that helps me breath at night. When power goes off, that mask becomes a face hugger from Aliens and I come up out of a dead sleep clawing at my face! Anyway, the other side of the complex lost their power this morning for a few hours, but we are doing fine on this side. Here's hoping they forget about us.

As I sit here and read posts from other areas of Texas, I wonder how folks in our neck of the woods are handling things? Do towns like Winnsboro, Quitman and Mineola have buildings that can be used as warming stations for folks that have lost power or are maybe suffering other problems? Granted, these are unprecedented times, but it's something that should be considered. It really doesn't need a lot of planning, or at least I wouldn't think so as I'm not an emergency planner even on a personal scale. I tend to react as it happens. It doesn't always end well, but those are stories for another day.

Long story short is no, I'm not getting out in this stuff, I hope that for those that are having difficulties it gets better soon, and if you have neighbors that you can check on, do so. In the meantime, stay safe, stay warm and it'll be over soon. At least the weather folks say it will be and we can trust them, right?

A Good Place to Put Down Roots

We recently celebrated our first year of living in Wood County, specifically Winnsboro. It's funny how when we met new people, their first question was always "why?" 

Why Winnsboro? I didn't really know how to answer them except to tell them the truth. It looked like a cool little place to live.

I'll back up a little. My name is James Pickering, and I'm a widower with an eleven year old daughter. I've been many things over my lifetime. I've served in the Navy during Desert Shield/Desert Storm. I was a disc jockey. I've done everything from repair appliances to selling the parts to fix them. I've even owned my own comic book shop and have plans to open a small book store one day.

But the toughest job I've ever had was being a husband to a wife who would one day not be with us. My wife was diagnosed with a stage IV brain tumor six months after giving birth to our daughter. Nothing prepares you for news like that, but after a few moments of crying, cussing, screaming and then eventually laughing, we chin-upped and faced it together as a family.

For a tumor that by statistics' standards should have taken her in six weeks, she lasted two and a half years. My wife said that if there was ever a silver lining to be found with her diagnosis, it was the fact that she got to be home with her little girl and witness all of her firsts. Though my wife put up one heck of a fight, it eventually took her from us shortly after our daughter's third birthday.

I took about a year to figure out what to do with myself, and though everyone thought I was nuts, I started a business. For five years, I owned a comic book shop and built a community meeting place for readers and gamers and people who just needed a place to belong. And it was good.

We eventually closed it in 2019 with a bad 2018 holiday season, neighborhood changes, changes in the comic publishing industry and new landlords with other ideas for my space. I got out pretty much unscathed, plenty of folks singing our praises and was glad for it when Covid hit.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. During those five years, health issues arose. I almost died due to blood clots in my lungs. These were thanks to a bad diet, sleep apnea and a mostly sedentary lifestyle. Seems that all of that work I did running a shop wasn't considered exercise enough to keep me healthy. When I closed the store, I started reassessing life. I decided I needed to get away to a quieter lifestyle.

My Dad lives in Emory, my mom lives in Perryville and our favorite route to see her was down Hwy 11 to Winnsboro and hang a right on 852. But it was as we drove through Winnsboro that I would slow down and look and imagine living here. There seemed to always be something going on in Winnsboro from the month-long Autumn Trails events to parades and shows at the Winnsboro Center for the Arts and more.

I started to play with the numbers and found that I could save so much money by moving here. I found that the local schools were top notch, my rent was almost half of what I was paying in Garland and the other utilities and bills were equally as low. It was kind of a no-brainer to move here and get away from the constant noise of the metroplex. The trains that roll thru are a perfect testament to how I feel. The first time I got hung up as one came through town, I thought to myself that this was a traffic jam that I didn't mind. And that horn at night might occasionally wake me up, but it just as quickly put me back to sleep.

We signed a lease on an apartment just off of downtown and were moved in the first week of February 2020 and haven't looked back. My daughter has made friends at school. She's quick to throw up a hand and wave at strangers which she never did before. On top of all of that, has already expressed an interest in barrel racing. I'll seriously consider it as soon as I can find a spot in the apartment to put a horse. 

A big plus about living out here is that I get to satisfy my urge to ramble the roads. It's a habit that I picked up from my dad. It wasn't anything to load up the truck on a Saturday and head out to the Georgia-Pacific Wildlife Management Area, or the game reserve as we called it, back home around Bastrop, Louisiana, where I grew up. There were several gravel roads that we'd ride that were straight as an arrow. One of my favorites was called Long Lonesome and it ran for over 10 miles with over half of that like someone had laid a ruler down to line it out. 

We don't load up a truck nowadays, but we go get our cold drinks and find a road that we haven't been down before and see where it takes us. It takes me back to when I was a kid and I know that I'm connecting with her and making memories, and I know that she's loving it especially when she says "Daddy, can we take the back roads home."

How Deep Is the Ocean?

I'm fascinated by the scale of things. I remember a video back in high school that they showed during science class that demonstrated the scale of the universe. It started with a couple having a picnic in the park and the camera backed away to eventually end up at the edge of the known universe. Then the camera fell back down to the starting point and went microscopic to show the nucleus of an atom. I've seen updated versions but none as impactful as that one seen by a very young me. Now this comes along to show how deep the oceans are and it's pretty cool too. Enjoy!

Recollections of Challenger 35 Years Later

I don't know why I happened to be at home that day. It was my senior year and didn't have enough classes to go all day, I was usually home later in the afternoon. On this particular day, I had just gotten out of the shower and ran to the living room wearing only a towel to see the remains of a the fireball and wondered what had happened.

My love of space was kindled at an early age. I was born towards the end of the space race, just a year prior to the moon landing. In my first years I watched many an Apollo launch, the rise and fall of Skylab and the designing, testing and eventual launch of the first shuttle, Columbia, in April of 1981. Every article that my small town newspaper could publish found it's way into a scrapbook. I still have my original copy of THE SPACE SHUTTLE OPERATOR'S MANUAL published in October 1982, though it has definitely seen better days.

The space shuttle was my generation's spaceship. My love of the stars joined with the shuttle program and I made plans. I was going to join the Navy's Nuclear Power Program and get my degree in nuclear engineering and then go work for NASA building rocket engines. To me, there was nothing else. But after joining, plans changed over time and I lost sight of that dream.

Going back to that fateful day, though, I remember standing there, still damp from the shower and just staring at the TV. Just like millions around the world. Wondering what just happened. Surely, they're okay. Surely, we'll hear their voices in just a second. But those voices were never heard again. I don't think I got dressed until some time later. I don't remember a lot about the rest of that day, all I could remember was how that rope-like cloud of smoke just abruptly ended in a blue sky.

When Reagan spoke later that afternoon, I was still in a daze but the one thing that brought me out of it was towards the end of his speech. His speech writer was a lady named Peggy Noonan and in the speech she included an excerpt from a poem she remembered from seventh grade. Reagan's speech went like this - “We will never forget them, nor the last time we saw them, this morning, as they prepared for their journey and waved goodbye and ‘slipped the surly bonds of earth’ to ‘touch the face of God.'” The poem "High Flight" that gave this sentence life was written by a 19 year old John Gillespie Magee who died in a mid-air collision during WWII. 

Oh! I have slipped the surly bonds of earth,
And danced the skies on laughter-silvered wings;
Sunward I’ve climbed, and joined the tumbling mirth
Of sun-split clouds — and done a hundred things
You have not dreamed of … 

I still get misty-eyed when I read this or the speech excerpt. I still get misty-eyed every year when I recall this event. It affected not only America, but the world. These were explorers and adventurers expanding our knowledge of the world and universe around us. Michael Smith, Dick Scobee, Judith Resnik, Ronald McNair, Ellison Onizuka, Gregory Jarvis and Christa McAuliffe.

Weekends were made for adventures

I got my love for road running from my Dad. It was nothing to pile up in the pick-up, back when you could ride in the back and not get side-eye from someone. He'd take us out towards Long Lonesome, a road that traversed through the Georgia Pacific Wildlife Management Area northwest of Bastrop, Louisiana, my hometown. A little over ten miles of gravel road that ran straight as an arrow for a good portion of it. We'd go just to see what wild life we could see and listen to the quiet of those pine trees.

My wife had a bit of the wanderlust, also. She ran with a group of folks that called themselves the We Be Trippin' group and they would all load up in Carroll's little Ford Explorer and go to the Jazz Fest in South Louisiana or anywhere they could pop a tent. Our thing was to take the roadmap and just hang a turn on whatever small road seemed to lead to nowhere. This once lead us to a fox hunt, though we were told that since it was in Texas, they were chasing coyotes.

And now, we continue the tradition with me and my daughter. Since we've moved to Winnsboro, which will be a year ago in just a week, she has learned the joy of riding the roads. Her favorite request when we are going anywhere is "Daddy, can we take the back roads?" She has also picked up the lost art of being neighborly by waving at passerbys whether they instigated it or not.

One of our most recent jaunts started out as just us getting lunch and enjoying it at a roadside park. An order of tamales from the lady over at the parts place and a cold drink had us sitting at the little roadside park north of town on Hwy 37. Though she and I had passed it many times, we never knew it's place in history. Our local librarian had brought our attention to it after she had stopped to check it out the month before.

Built in the thirties Texas started scattering these parks throughout the state to the tune of 674 by 1938.Today only 41 survive. The Texas Highway Department tasked the National Youth Association with building these little respites to meet the possible throng of people traveling for the 1936 Texas Centennial. Lyndon B. Johnson was the director of the NYA from 1935 to 1937.

This little park north of town is one of only a few that has a natural spring supplying fresh cold clear water. An old stone picnic table and bench are there and I assume are original. The area is also covered with dark green moss and just begs to be enjoyed. I have a feeling we'll be enjoying more lunches there as the years go by.

You can read more about the parks in the link below. 

Have you visited this park? What are your memories of this special place?

Depression-era Roadside Parks by Bob Bowman

Happy New Year 2021

As I peruse my Facebook memories from previous New Year's Eves, I look to writing this one in the time of Covid. I think back on the past months and look for a little perspective and I search for the silver lining.

But in the end, 2020 sucked. It took from us people who still had a future ahead of them. It took from us our freedom. It took from us our time and energy. I am ready for it to go. See ya, don't let the door hit ya where the Good Lord split ya!

So, for 2021, I wish you health and happiness. We are all stronger for having gone through 2020 and yes, we are still struggling, but the new day and new year is another opportunity to try again. Stand up, dust off the dirt, and put up your dukes. Remember you life is in your control. Make good decisions. Make informed decisions. Live your life!

Most folks go out and make a long list of resolutions. You know what? Just pick one thing that will make you happy and knock it out of the park. Even if that thing is going to get a good hamburger from your favorite restaurant. Small happies make a happy life. It's cliche' but it's true, it's the little things. Happy New Year to you and yours and much love from me and the Kid.

May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness. I hope you read some fine books and kiss someone who thinks you’re wonderful, and don’t forget to make some art – Write or draw or build or sing or live as only you can. And I hope, somewhere in the next year, you surprise yourself. ~Neil Gaiman

Wreaths by Nicole Makes a Great Gift for a Service Member

I was just watching the news and saw this clip on a young woman who is making a craft that is a great idea for service members. Texas Air Force Staff Sergeant Nicole Pompei takes old uniforms and makes wreaths out of them. She has received such fanfare from folks after the video showed that she now has a one year waiting list. Here is her Facebook page and the clip that ran on CBS News.

Facebook - Wreaths by Nicole

What New Year's Traditions Do You Celebrate?

The best way to start off the New Year has many examples. Growing up in Louisiana, we always ate turnip greens, cabbage and black-eyed peas for good luck. If you throw a little pork in with any of them, it would increase your luck throughout the year. Mix it together in different combinations and you have Hoppin' John. The greens and cabbage, of course, represent green money and the black-eyed peas represent coins, and you can't go wrong with a little 'golden' cornbread.  Folks with deeper Louisiana roots had King Cake baked with a little baby in it. If you got the piece with the baby, you were assured luck for the new year. And let's not forget about some tamales celebrated in Hispanic culture and beyond!

Hoppin' John - Brent Hofacker/Shutterstock

There are plenty of food related traditions such as eating twelve grapes, one for each month of the year. You can't go wrong with food, though I had never heard of not eating lobster or chicken. According to the tradition, lobsters walk backwards thus reversing your luck and chickens have wings and your luck will fly away. I guess if you can believe in the greens and peas, you might as well believe in this, huh?

I've been halfway around the world but only experienced New Year's Eve in one foreign city and that was Naples, Italy. When I was their in the late 80's, we were warned to be off the streets at midnight as Italians believed in "out with the old." Amongst the sound of fireworks could be heard the thunder of furniture and appliances hitting the streets as the items were tossed off balconies and out doorways. What a way to celebrate though I've read that it's not as celebrated as it was then.

Below are links to some of the more prominent traditions around the world. Do you celebrate a tradition that isn't quite as mainstream?

Country Living - 15 Best New Years Superstitions That Could Bring You Good Luck in 2021

Good Housekeeping - 15 New Year's Good Luck Traditions From Around the World to Borrow for Your Celebration

Atlas Travel - New Years Traditions For Good Luck

CNN - They eat what? New Year's food traditions around the world

Are you sleeping enough?

Someone on my Facebook page asked how much sleep everyone usually got. The answers ranged from enough to not enough. You know, the general consensus you would expect.

I have to wrangle my sleep patterns to get enough. I feel like Dr. Frankenstein when it comes to piecing habits together to make sure that I get enough.

There are several things that contribute to my lack of healthy sleep. Some I've always had and some are brought on with weight gain and old age. I never lack of reasons.

According to the Sleep Foundation, my kid requires more sleep than I do and I can see that. She expends more energy in her day than I do. But, she also doesn't have any of the problems that I exhibit, so when she get 9-10 hours of sleep, it's a good 9-10 hours. I, on the other hand, according to the Foundation, only require 7-9, but that requires me to sleep a full 10 just to get it. Here's all of the factors that affect me.

Image by No-longer-here from Pixabay 

Night owl - I have always been a night owl. From the earliest recollections, I've always been more wound up at night. That may have come from my father being a shift worker and me and my brothers staying up late for when he came home. It might also have been just a natural biorhythm that puts me out of sync with a majority of the world. I've never been a morning person. A good day for me is sleeping until 11am and then getting up and going by 1pm. I really hit my stride late in the afternoon and could stay up until 2am or 3am easily. This worked fine for the years that I was a club DJ, but doesn't work so well when you have a kid.

Caffeine - I've always drank colas, starting at a very early age. I know, I know. The damage is done, no need to point fingers at my parents. It was I that continued to harm myself. I've tried curtailing my use and I've done pretty good, but if I drink anything with caffeine, it better be before 3 or 4pm or I'm up all night.

Sleep apnea - In 2017 I was put in the hospital for pulmonary embolisms, blood clots in both my lungs. I was told that if I had waited another 24 hours, I wouldn't be here. It was found that one of the culprits was sleep apnea. As I began to put on weight about my late 20's early 30's, sleep apnea affected not only the amount of sleep I was getting, but how much oxygen my body was getting. This worked hand in hand with other factors to give me blood clots which almost killed me. I did a sleep study shortly after my leaving the hospital and found that I was waking up 113 times an hour. Yep, I was impressed too. So, now I use a cpap and get much better sleep, but not the way I'd like as you'll find in the next paragraph.

Medication - I am on numerous medicines, one of which makes me go to the bathroom. A lot! It's for blood pressure and it's called Furosemide and it's a beast. I was contemplating a few months back about how I could get better sleep and then I wandered down the path of "what" was keeping me up. Though the VA put me on a cpap to help me sleep better, they gave me medicine that made me NOT sleep better. I researched my drugs and found that though they had me taking it once in the morning and once at bedtime, bedtime was not a good time to take it. Through online research and speaking with a neighbor who is a nurse, I found that I could take it at least six hours after the first dose, preferably in the afternoon and it should be out of my system by bedtime. This has worked to some degree. Since some of my drugs have to be taken with food, I tend to eat earlier in the evening between 4 and 5. At least I try. And then there is the remembering to take the medicine at this time, when I've been taking it at bedtime for almost three years. Working on those new habits.

Kid to school - And the last hurdle to getting good sleep is the fact that I have to wake up at 6:15 AM to make sure that the Kid hasn't overslept. As I said earlier, I'm a night owl and so this isn't really conducive to getting sleep. I have found though that if I go back to bed fairly quickly, I can be up by 9 AM with no repercussions.

My ideal schedule would be to get to the point where I could go to bed at 8 PM and sleep all the way through with maybe one pitstop and wake at 6 AM. Hopefully, this would give me enough energy to work the whole day through.

*** While writing this post, I came across this article that describes how pre-Industrial Europe had two sleeps. Not exactly like naps, mind you. Naps mean you sleep as you normally would and then take a short twenty minute to hour nap after lunch to get your energy back up. In the Navy, we usually skipped lunch and went straight to our rack (bed) and called them Nooners. In two sleeps, you go to bed at dusk, sleep about four hours, wake for two or three, and sleep another four hours. I've read where Thomas Edison, didn't necessarily sleep, he catnapped. He'd sleep an hour or two, work a few hours, sleep a few more hours and so on. But he also was able to flexible with his lifestyle, unlike most in the 21st century.

Or are we inflexible. With Covid showing us how we can work from home, we may be getting back to that ability to do things like second sleep. I might even try this since, aside from the Kid waking at 6 AM, I'm pretty flexible the rest of the day. Now to work on normalizing first breakfast, second breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, dinner, and supper.

Reflections on Veterans Day 2020

I'm a little overdue for getting this out, but it's been busy around here. I had a table at a comic book show the weekend after our little town parade and then boom! Thanksgiving was upon us, but here it goes.

I joined the Navy as a means to an end. I wanted to be a nuclear engineer but didn't have any idea how to accomplish it. Navy recruiters came to school showing a video about the Nuclear-Powered Navy and I was hooked.

I didn't end up getting my degree, but I finished out my six year service. I didn't have any desire to stay in at the time, but as the years went on, I would look back at my service with growing pride. I served in Desert Shield/Desert Storm. I didn't really understand everything that happened until I got back to the states and eventually got discharged in 1992. Even now, it's hard to find information on what we did, but thanks to Facebook groups, I've been able to find more and more info.

As I get older, I realize that though it wasn't my original intention, I did something that less than one half of one percent of Americans choose to do. I don't necessarily believe all conflicts are justified, but the folks that I met from Kuwait and surrounding countries during that time wanted us there. It makes me proud to have served and I support anyone who wants to join the military.

At first, I didn't feel comfortable having someone thank me for my service. I didn't know what to say to something that I didn't feel I deserved. To me, those service members who gave their lives or were in heavier combat than I ever saw were way more deserving than I. But I read an article from someone who put it in perspective. We can't all be on the frontline, but we support them by doing our jobs, like my ship, among a flotilla of ships, setting up warfare ops off the coast of Kuwait and drawing fire for main force attacking from the western desert.

When I heard of our little parade here in Winnsboro, I pulled out the old ball cap with my ship's emblem on it. With Covid, the veterans formed up out in front of the high school and listened to the high school band play the different military songs and afterwards drove off in procession to the other schools. Along the way, we got cheers and "we love you" from the kids and it felt awesome. There were several times when I thought I would tear up. My daughter and her friends were so excited to see us drive by and my heart was full seeing all of the kids.

I love this little town and it's American pride. I know America isn't perfect, but what truly makes America great is the fact that there are so many people working together to make it great. Do we still have racism, poverty, injustice and inequality? Yes, but it's our constant stride together to make it better that makes me proud of America and my service in the military.

Thank you to those that served and are still serving.

Danny Elfman Releases First Single in 36 Years

For the first time in thirty-six years, Danny Elfman releases a single called 'Happy'. More commonly known for being Tim Burton's go-to composer, Danny is responsible for the BATMAN (1989) theme, NIGHTMARE BEFORE CHRISTMAS, THE CORPSE BRIDE, and the theme to THE SIMPSONS. For many of his fans, they will know him from his original band Oingo Boingo who gave us 'Dead Man's Party' and many more.

After signing with Anti-/Epitaph, 'Happy' hits the streets with an ode to 2020 it would seem. Gruesome effects bely the lines that state he is "so happy." It's typical Elfman macabre and I'm glad to see him back. Check out the video below and also "Dead Man's Party."

***Warning*** There is foul language if you are concerned with that.

HAPPY - Danny Elfman

DEAD MAN'S PARTY - Oingo Boingo

Autumn Trails Is Almost Over

Autumn Trails is something that's been happening in Winnsboro for sixty-two years. We visited for the first time last year and enjoyed the fun, but was really won over by the friendliness of the area's inhabitants. This is one of the reasons that we decided to leave the Dallas area and move out here, in addition to my parents both being within 35 miles of town, instead of two hours.

The many festivities included rodeos, arts & crafts, parades, trail rides and a flea market spread out over the weekends of October. The first weekend hosted barrel racing at the Winnsboro Rodeo Arena. The Kid would love to do this if we only had more room in the apartment for a horse. And barrels. The following weekend saw the Trail Ride parade and mule rodeo. See my previous post about the mule rodeo, which was tons of fun. 

This past weekend was packed with plenty for everyone. There was a Antique Car Parade, trail ride, and classic car show with old cars from just about every decade over the last one hundred years. The Bowery and other streets were blocked off for the Arts & Crafts fair while the Kid and I hosted a spot over at the city park for the Trades Day, Swap Meet, and Flea Market. We missed out on the Chili Cookoff and Pie Baking Contest, but we'll definitely make it next year. We suffered through with a little rain on Friday and cooler temps all weekend, but not enough to not have fun.

There is another event for the last weekend of the month. The Jack Cross Livestock & Dairy Show celebrates 50 years at the Jack Cross Pavilion at City Park Saturday October 31st. Though no where near as big as the Stock Show in Fort Worth, which is canceled by the way, this should entertain young and old alike.

Though not part of Autumn Trails, the downtown area will be hosting a trick or treat event for the kids at all downtown businesses from 4 to 6pm, so be sure and bring the little ones out for that.

Have a happy and safe end to Autumn Trails and a safe and happy Halloween!

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Ever been to a mule rodeo?

We've lived in Winnsboro for eight months now and even though I've known about mule rodeos, I've never actually been to one. Well, tonight was the first and definitely not the last time we go to one.

In the time we've been here, we've become rodeo geeks. We don't ride, but we love to watch and experience rodeo culture. The July 4th Rodeo was really exciting and Lilly was set on wanting to be a barrel racer. After I explained how we lived in an apartment, horses were expensive, etc etc, she quit harping about it.

Then last night she decides that we should get a mule because she thought some of the events looked fun. I have to admit, I think they did too.

Below, you'll see some of the photos and some video that I took. Have you been to a mule rodeo before? If not, and you get the chance, do not miss out on a lot of fun!

                                

                                 

                                 

                                 

                                 

Looking for Bigfoot and Other Haunts in East Texas

I grew up on the Arkansas line in Northeast Louisiana. Too far north to be chased by the Rougarou, we still had our share of haunts, haints, will-o-wisps, Bigfoot and a myriad of other supernatural encounters.

Morehouse Parish, where I lived, is home to the world's longest bayou, Bayou Bartholomew. It wanders 360+ miles through southern Arkansas into Northeast Louisiana to eventually feed into the Ouchita River, right outside of my hometown. Just an hour to an hour and a half east, you start to get into the Mississippi River flood plain that makes the soil great for growing cotton, soybeans and other crops. But the biggest export out of this area up to a decade or so back was lumber and paper products, until they started shutting down the paper mills. Yep, woods for miles and miles and you didn't know what was hiding in them.

In Morehouse Parish, we had reports of a Bigfoot roaming around. In fact, the local paper ran an article about a sighting on April Fool's Day. That didn't slow anyone down from believing it which shows how bad folks wanted it to be real.

In addition to Bigfoot, we had other weird places. One such place was a stretch of road called Girl Scout Road. I don't know where that name came from but there were always the rumors of devil worshippers to an old lady who was said to be a witch living out that way. We used to drive it late at night looking for anything out of the norm and the only time I saw any such malevolence was the night a friend and I took a short cut home from church. We witnessed a very large bonfire but didn't see anyone tending it. Of course that could have been because of the speedy departure when my friend gunned the engine of his '67 Cougar and got us out of there.

One thing that I did witness was in Southeast Arkansas. A girlfriend and I joined a couple that we knew and headed up to a spot that was simply referred to as the Light. The tale that was told is one that has been repeated all over the country. A long time ago, a train conductor was checking the track when he fell and somehow the train rolled over his neck freeing his head from his body. Through supernatural powers his body now walks that track, which has since all but disappeared, waving his lantern to and fro' looking for his head.

The male friend told us of his experience with it along with tales of his family who had seen it. We set up at a spot down the road a bit from where the light was supposed to appear. It was well after dark and nothing could be seen for about an hour. Then one of us noticed what looked less light a lantern but more along the lines of a patch dark that was not quite as dark as the rest of the night. A few more minutes and then, yes, it was a light that resembled the light source that a train conductor would use. Not a flashlight but an old-fashioned kerosene lamp. And it was coming towards us. It eventually died out and did not reappear, but it was enough for me. I will not say for certain that it is that doomed conductor, but something definitely did put on a show that night.

Where I live now in East Texas with the abundance of woodlands really reminds me of where I grew up. This makes me wonder what is roaming those areas, too. So what stories have you heard or actually witnessed yourself? Have you heard the calls of the Sasquatch or have you witnessed the will-o-wisps trying to lead wanderers deeper into the woods? Tell me your story, I'd love to hear it!