Lucky

I got my first horse for my first birthday. That is a fact, and it is a story that I have enjoyed telling - particularly to folks from out-of-state who had unrealistic ideas about Texas and Texans.

The horse was a four month old Shetland pony we named Lucky, and although we sold him when I was five years old, I do have several vivid memories of life with Lucky. 

For example, Lucky once got into a bin full of sweet potatoes and ate his fill.  He almost died - blew up like a weather balloon, had trouble breathing and could hardly stand.  Watching my dad give my pony an enema with a garden hose is a scene that nobody is likely to ever forget.

I don’t actually remember the best Lucky story, but I’ve heard it often. Here’s what happened: 

Shortly after Lucky arrived, our next door neighbor stopped by.  He said that his milk cow had suddenly gone dry, but only on her left side – the teats on her right side were still functioning normally.  He asked my dad if he had ever heard of such a thing, and of course, he said that he had not.

The mystery was solved a few days later when my mom saw the neighbor’s cow standing at the property line allowing Lucky to nurse through the barbed wire fence.

Middle Child

Over the years, psychologists have written reams of reports about middle child syndrome, and the problems of growing up with older and younger siblings.  My problem was a little different.

A couple years before I was born, and after several miscarriages, my mother gave birth to a beautiful baby girl.  I’ve seen pictures, and beautiful is not an understatement – she was one of the prettiest babies I’ve ever seen.  They named her Dana Lynne.

Everybody and his brother came to see them in the hospital, and someone gave her a cold, which developed into pneumonia.  She died before she ever left the hospital.

When I came along, I was loved and cherished and spoiled rotten, but my mother always continued to mourn that perfect little girl.  It’s hard to compete with someone who died before they ever had a chance to do anything wrong.

Paid Patriotism

A report just released by Arizona’s two US Senators reveals that many of those patriotic displays we see at professional sports events were actually bought and paid for by the Military. 

The figures – for fiscal year 2013 – show the Houston Astros got $25,000 from the Texas National Guard and the Dynamo got $15,000 for allowing Guardsmen to act as color guards at some of their home games.  During the same time period, the Atlanta Hawks raked in $230,000!

The 6.8 million dollars they quote may be a drop in the bucket in the overall military budget, but I think it is reprehensible. 

I know that professional sports is a business - and the business of business is to make money - but Patriotism should never be for sale or rent.

Happy Birthday

I am, and I treasure every day we have together. 

Happy birthday, Honey.  You truly are the love of my life.

Another 2nd Monday

Groveton

No, my parents were not related, but they met when they both went to visit a mutual cousin. Her name was Mildred, and I guess she would be my double second cousin.  Her parents were my mother’s father’s brother and my dad’s mother’s sister, and they lived in Groveton, Texas.  I don’t know if it was an actual case of love at first sight, but  dad is supposed to have told mom that summer that he was going to marry her when she grew up.

Both of my maternal grandparents grew up in that area, and years ago, while traveling through Groveton, I talked to an old man who knew them both when they were young.  I had stopped at a gas station to buy a coke to drink with my lunch, and struck up a conversation with an old-timer who was sitting in a cane-bottom rocker outside.

He told me that my grandmother and her twin sister (fraternal twins that didn’t look a thing alike) were the prettiest girls in the town.  I asked about my grand-dad and his brothers, saying “I’ve heard those Boyd boys were pretty rowdy.”

He thought for a minute, then replied, “Well, them Boyd boys was what you might call noticeable.”

The Mob

Well, the weather cooperated and our neighborhood hay ride went off without a hitch.  The rain (we had 5-plus inches overnight) stopped just before noon, and the trailer-loads of goblins showed up at our place a little after five o'clock. 

I left the house to go grocery shopping at noon – thinking that many would still be waiting for the water to recede, and I would beat the crowds.  Boy, was I wrong!

I drove through high water – never more than two or three inches – a dozen times or more on the way to the store, only to arrive to find the HEB parking lot totally full and only about a half dozen shopping carts available.  I have never seen the store so full – not even when folks were stocking up for a hurricane. 

I guess everyone was going stir-crazy, and got out of the house as soon as they could. The good news was that everyone was in good spirits and they were all friendly and courteous.