Mr. Dick Cheatham passed away Wednesday at the age of 80. I met his son Richard in the first grade at Roscoe Wilson and we grew to be best friends. Richard is the fourth of five children born to Dick and his wife Joyce. They lived on 25th Street, just two doors from Roscoe Wilson, and all through elementary school, I spent as much time at their house as I did at my own. Once we matriculated to Hutchinson Jr. Hi, where I lived two houses away, Richard reciprocated at our house. Mr. Cheatham served in the Army in WWII and Korea and taught at Texas Tech for some time. That is not what I remembered about him.
Dick was an artist. That's all I ever knew to call him. His house was a strange and magical place, filled with artistic objects of all types. Dick worked with watercolor, oil, wood and bronze. He had a kiln in the back yard, guarded by his yellow lab Gunny, and on a lucky day, you would catch him casting sculpture. When he wasn't creating works of art in paint and bronze, he was creating them with feathers and string, as he tied some of the most fantastic fishing flys you had ever seen. I remember him coming to my house once to teach watercolor to a bunch of snot nosed Cub Scouts. He told us..."If you can feel, you can be an artist." Sadly, my sense of feeling must have been buried at birth, as I never developed any artistic abilities of my own. Dick gave me a watercolor for High School graduation and he drew a personal cartoon for my graduation from A&M. Both are proudly displayed in my office. I also have one of his watercolors, a wedding gift, in my living room.
Mr. Cheatham died Wednesday in that same house on 25th Street, after a long battle with Parkinson's. His funeral was yesterday, and was attended by so many people, they had to set up chairs in the entryway. The tables at the reception were adorned with dozens of carved wooden birds. Birds Dick had carved over the years. At one point, Mrs. Cheatham asked for everyone's attention. She announced that we were all welcome to take any of the birds we liked. She then pointed out two huge boxes in the back of the room, filled with even more birds. It was an unbelievable selection.
I selected a couple that struck my eye, made my way to give Mrs. Cheatham a hug and wish her the best. I then turned to find Richard, one of my oldest friends. Now, I am not one who cares much for the "man hug". But, in this case, it seemed appropriate. Afterwards, we stepped back, and he made some comment about my bald head, and I reminded him even without hair, I was still smarter and better looking than him. That seemed to get us back on the right footing.
Farewell, Mr. Cheatham. Scratch old Gunny behind the ears for me.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
Storm Chasers...Blow Me!!!
Well, it's tornado season again...otherwise known in West Texas as Spring. Having grown up here, and witnessing 49 tornado seasons, I have to say I am annoyed at the annual influx of legal aliens chasing storms. Returning to the home on Maniacal Lane after having acquired a Blake's Round Hot Dog and tater tots from Christaki's tonight, I was slowed dramatically on the Interstate by an antenna laden vehicle, as they checked their mobile computin' machines and the closed circuit TV cameras searching for the next great storm to strike.
As I passed, I politely informed them it was just another storm cloud, and if they would only wait a few minutes, another one would come along directly. Admittedly, it may have actually come out as, "Get the fuck out of the way, you goddamn yankees, my cholesterol bomb is getting cold!"
Every year about this time, storms come and storms go. The local weathermen interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to tell us storms are coming, and storms are going. Call me jaded if you want, but I really don't give a shit about the comings and goings of storms, unless they have the potential to affect the comings and goings of an 8:30 tee time on Saturday morning.
It's the weather folks...and it has been around for several centuries. In the words of the late, great Clayton Williams, "...there ain't a damn thing you can do about it, might as well lie back and enjoy it."
As I passed, I politely informed them it was just another storm cloud, and if they would only wait a few minutes, another one would come along directly. Admittedly, it may have actually come out as, "Get the fuck out of the way, you goddamn yankees, my cholesterol bomb is getting cold!"
Every year about this time, storms come and storms go. The local weathermen interrupt our regularly scheduled programming to tell us storms are coming, and storms are going. Call me jaded if you want, but I really don't give a shit about the comings and goings of storms, unless they have the potential to affect the comings and goings of an 8:30 tee time on Saturday morning.
It's the weather folks...and it has been around for several centuries. In the words of the late, great Clayton Williams, "...there ain't a damn thing you can do about it, might as well lie back and enjoy it."
Friday, April 25, 2008
Earth Week...Enough Already!!!
If I hear one more so called celebrity pontificate about what I should do to save the earth, I might be forced to go out and drain my oil directly into the ground in the alley. I have had my fill of Earth Week.
The wife even indicated she was going to buy some of those annoying canvas bags for groceries. I beseeched her, if she insisted on doing it, to do it for the right reason. That being that we are being buried on Maniacal Lane under those damn plastic bags since the cats died. Try as they may, the dogs just can't produce the level of excrement necessary to keep up with the infusion of Wal-Mart and United bags. Please do not buy them under the misguided notion that it will help the environment.
First, let me go on the record as one who believes Man has little to no influence on the earth's climate. Send all of the knee jerk propaganda you want about greenhouse gasses and the evils of fossil fuels. Man just ain't Man enough to fuck with Mother Nature. The Earth will do what she will do, and there ain't a damn thing Man can do about it. I predict in the 20's, high school students will be holding theme parties parodying the "hippie" like antics of environmental reactionaries of the Naught's. Hell, I saw the same thing in the '70's.
For 40 plus years there have been dire predictions about the "end world" actions taken by Man. The actual score is: Earth - 5 billion years...Modern Man - 10,000 years. By those numbers, the Earth has not even realized we are here. We cannot destroy the planet...we can only destroy ourselves...and eventually, we will. I, for one, am not going to lose any sleep over it.
I read this week where food riots have begun around the world, and there is a perceived rice shortage in the US. RICE shortage???? Who gives a shit? A rice shortage will not lead to riots in this country. Now...a donut shortage will be a different thing.
Come to think of it...a food shortage could be the best thing to happen to this country. We are currently in the middle of an obesity epidemic. Yes, I said "obesity epidemic". We are actually afflicted with too much food in this country. If food shortages eventually lead to rioting, the country can only become healthier. Everyone will be eating less, and exercising more.
Honor Earth Week...plant a tree...you may be forced to eat the damn thing.
The wife even indicated she was going to buy some of those annoying canvas bags for groceries. I beseeched her, if she insisted on doing it, to do it for the right reason. That being that we are being buried on Maniacal Lane under those damn plastic bags since the cats died. Try as they may, the dogs just can't produce the level of excrement necessary to keep up with the infusion of Wal-Mart and United bags. Please do not buy them under the misguided notion that it will help the environment.
First, let me go on the record as one who believes Man has little to no influence on the earth's climate. Send all of the knee jerk propaganda you want about greenhouse gasses and the evils of fossil fuels. Man just ain't Man enough to fuck with Mother Nature. The Earth will do what she will do, and there ain't a damn thing Man can do about it. I predict in the 20's, high school students will be holding theme parties parodying the "hippie" like antics of environmental reactionaries of the Naught's. Hell, I saw the same thing in the '70's.
For 40 plus years there have been dire predictions about the "end world" actions taken by Man. The actual score is: Earth - 5 billion years...Modern Man - 10,000 years. By those numbers, the Earth has not even realized we are here. We cannot destroy the planet...we can only destroy ourselves...and eventually, we will. I, for one, am not going to lose any sleep over it.
I read this week where food riots have begun around the world, and there is a perceived rice shortage in the US. RICE shortage???? Who gives a shit? A rice shortage will not lead to riots in this country. Now...a donut shortage will be a different thing.
Come to think of it...a food shortage could be the best thing to happen to this country. We are currently in the middle of an obesity epidemic. Yes, I said "obesity epidemic". We are actually afflicted with too much food in this country. If food shortages eventually lead to rioting, the country can only become healthier. Everyone will be eating less, and exercising more.
Honor Earth Week...plant a tree...you may be forced to eat the damn thing.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Spring Fun Tournament
We teed off at 9:00 a.m. for the annual Spring Fun Tournament. This is a 4 man tournament, that calls on each participant to step up and do his part. As illuminated by Al earlier today, I shan't bore you with the minute details. Today's format was a select drive, low ball. This means all four tee off, you pick the best drive and everyone plays in from there. I performed poorly on the front nine (43) and exceptionally on the back (35). As a team, we played very well and shot 17 under par for a current standing of second place.
Tomorrow's format is two 2-man scrambles. This means you split your team into two man teams and each team plays from the best shot of that two man team each time. You then combine the two scores on each hole for the total team score. I will be teaming up with Bryan, who can hit the ball a mile and a half, but you don't know where it will come down. My primary job tomorrow is to put my drives into the fairway and in play, then let Bryan unleash the beast and knock the crap out of his driver.
As I will be flying to Austin tomorrow evening, I don't know if I will know the results of our performance until I return on Wednesday. Stayed tuned if you give a shit...otherwise, have a nice day.
Tomorrow's format is two 2-man scrambles. This means you split your team into two man teams and each team plays from the best shot of that two man team each time. You then combine the two scores on each hole for the total team score. I will be teaming up with Bryan, who can hit the ball a mile and a half, but you don't know where it will come down. My primary job tomorrow is to put my drives into the fairway and in play, then let Bryan unleash the beast and knock the crap out of his driver.
As I will be flying to Austin tomorrow evening, I don't know if I will know the results of our performance until I return on Wednesday. Stayed tuned if you give a shit...otherwise, have a nice day.
Thursday, April 10, 2008
The Seven Plagues
As you may recall, a couple of weeks ago, I ripped the shit out of my thumb. There was some question about the possibility of tetanus at that time. I now, must Google tetanus for symptoms.
About the time I thought all was coming along nicely with the healing, I came down with some type of respiratory ailment. After coughing up a lung and a half, breathing had become quite labored. This was followed by an affliction of the nether regions which only Preparation H can relieve.
Last weekend, fever and stuffy head symptoms made their arrival, complementing my favorite activity of arising at the crack of dawn to make it to the airport at 6:30 Monday morning for a day trip to Austin and back. For your future use, nothing will assure you three seats to yourself on a Southwest flight quite like drooling down your shirt, and coughing up huge balls of phlegm into your palm, all the while shifting to and fro on your butt cheeks to relieve the painful itching and swelling down south.
After surviving the trip to Austin and back, I was greeted at the door with the news the iPhone had arrived. All I had to do was activiate it for the wife. I had been assured this was an easy and painless task, and would only take a few minutes. The instructions were very simple..."Log onto iTunes, connect the iPhone, and follow the on-screen directions."
I made it to Step 2.2 before the ever expected snag set in. Message..."No SIM card installed." Huh??? I did what any good Luddite would do. I checked the ATT site for details and was told all iPhones were shipped with a SIM card pre-installed. So, I looked the sleek surface of the new fangled device up and down, searching for a place where a SIM card might be. Nothing stood out. I checked the exhausitng volumes of instructions again. In total, they said..."Log onto iTunes, connect the iPhone, and follow the on-screen directions." I broke the bad news to the wife, that we had received the only iPhone in existence shipped without a pre-installed SIM card. Luckily, the following day, I paid a visit to the local ATT store, was issued a SIM card, and told where to put it, and a few clicks later the iPhone was up and running. All seemed well, and the sun would come out, and birds would be singing.
This morning, I woke up with massive cold sores breaking out all around my nose and mouth. For a guy who lives a clean, healthy, optimistic life, I was beginning to think someone up there does not like me. I look forward to the swarm of locusts in the yard tomorrow morning.
About the time I thought all was coming along nicely with the healing, I came down with some type of respiratory ailment. After coughing up a lung and a half, breathing had become quite labored. This was followed by an affliction of the nether regions which only Preparation H can relieve.
Last weekend, fever and stuffy head symptoms made their arrival, complementing my favorite activity of arising at the crack of dawn to make it to the airport at 6:30 Monday morning for a day trip to Austin and back. For your future use, nothing will assure you three seats to yourself on a Southwest flight quite like drooling down your shirt, and coughing up huge balls of phlegm into your palm, all the while shifting to and fro on your butt cheeks to relieve the painful itching and swelling down south.
After surviving the trip to Austin and back, I was greeted at the door with the news the iPhone had arrived. All I had to do was activiate it for the wife. I had been assured this was an easy and painless task, and would only take a few minutes. The instructions were very simple..."Log onto iTunes, connect the iPhone, and follow the on-screen directions."
I made it to Step 2.2 before the ever expected snag set in. Message..."No SIM card installed." Huh??? I did what any good Luddite would do. I checked the ATT site for details and was told all iPhones were shipped with a SIM card pre-installed. So, I looked the sleek surface of the new fangled device up and down, searching for a place where a SIM card might be. Nothing stood out. I checked the exhausitng volumes of instructions again. In total, they said..."Log onto iTunes, connect the iPhone, and follow the on-screen directions." I broke the bad news to the wife, that we had received the only iPhone in existence shipped without a pre-installed SIM card. Luckily, the following day, I paid a visit to the local ATT store, was issued a SIM card, and told where to put it, and a few clicks later the iPhone was up and running. All seemed well, and the sun would come out, and birds would be singing.
This morning, I woke up with massive cold sores breaking out all around my nose and mouth. For a guy who lives a clean, healthy, optimistic life, I was beginning to think someone up there does not like me. I look forward to the swarm of locusts in the yard tomorrow morning.
Monday, March 24, 2008
I-Phone or Blackberry
As the wife informed me a new washer and dryer is not a suitable gift for her birthday, I am resigned to moving her into the era of the smart phone.
As a Blackberry user for the past couple of years, I must say I have been very happy with it. I have tried to use the I-phone, but the overwhelming technological power of it gives me the creeps. Also, I discovered I cannot type on the damn thing. I tried the old line "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog", but never got past "The qu..." The keys were so sensitive, I kept picking up letters without trying. Then, somehow I e-mailed the test message to myself. Smart phone, my ass.
Not to mention, the Blackberry will not set me back $400-$500 to start. I must admit, that appeals to my "frugal" side.
Any opinions out there?
As a Blackberry user for the past couple of years, I must say I have been very happy with it. I have tried to use the I-phone, but the overwhelming technological power of it gives me the creeps. Also, I discovered I cannot type on the damn thing. I tried the old line "The quick brown fox jumped over the lazy dog", but never got past "The qu..." The keys were so sensitive, I kept picking up letters without trying. Then, somehow I e-mailed the test message to myself. Smart phone, my ass.
Not to mention, the Blackberry will not set me back $400-$500 to start. I must admit, that appeals to my "frugal" side.
Any opinions out there?
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Bang the Thumb Slowly...
Most weekends, after a round of golf, the pro will ask me how things went. I usually respond with the trite expression..."I should have stayed home, and pounded my thumb with a hammer." We all laugh, and I go on my way.
However, Sunday, after the second round of the Mud Ball Open, and another disappointing performance, I apparently let my subconscious mind take over, where my conscious mind should have been in charge.
I got home...eager to try out the new plug aerator I had bought to manage the estate on Maniacal Lane. Now, for the agronomically challenged, a plug aerator is a device consisting of a series of spiked wheels. It is designed to be towed behind a riding mower, and the wheels penetrate the ground as they roll, bringing up a "plug" of soil, and leaving a hole. These holes allow water and nutrients to penetrate into the lawn to promote a healthy lawn. To accomplish this, one must place a considerable amount of weight on the aerator to help the spikes penetrate into the winter hardened soil. In my case, I chose five full sized cinder blocks and four 5X9concrete flat stones.
Plenty of weight, as it turned out. The problem came after I had finished, and decided to remove the aerator in question from my mower. Keep in mind, I have a Masters Degree in Civil Engineering. Forgetting my physics classes, I disconnected the aerator from the mower, and the enormous weight of the concrete blocks immediately flipped the aerator backwards, "pounding my thumb with the hammer" of the tongue of the aerator underneath the back edge of the mower. A nickel sized chunk of flesh was removed from my thumb, and my regularly scheduled, one pint blood donation was accomplished in the flash of a piece of yard equipment. On the positive side, I did manage to teach the neighborhood kids a few new words. The good news is, the injury was high enough up on my thumb I don't think it will prevent me from pursuing my passion again this weekend.
When I told the folks at work about it, they asked when was the last time I had a teatnus shot. I explained that I injure myself more than "Tim, the Tool Man", so the wife has me on an annual vaccination schedule. Sometime, I will show you my tags.
However, Sunday, after the second round of the Mud Ball Open, and another disappointing performance, I apparently let my subconscious mind take over, where my conscious mind should have been in charge.
I got home...eager to try out the new plug aerator I had bought to manage the estate on Maniacal Lane. Now, for the agronomically challenged, a plug aerator is a device consisting of a series of spiked wheels. It is designed to be towed behind a riding mower, and the wheels penetrate the ground as they roll, bringing up a "plug" of soil, and leaving a hole. These holes allow water and nutrients to penetrate into the lawn to promote a healthy lawn. To accomplish this, one must place a considerable amount of weight on the aerator to help the spikes penetrate into the winter hardened soil. In my case, I chose five full sized cinder blocks and four 5X9concrete flat stones.
Plenty of weight, as it turned out. The problem came after I had finished, and decided to remove the aerator in question from my mower. Keep in mind, I have a Masters Degree in Civil Engineering. Forgetting my physics classes, I disconnected the aerator from the mower, and the enormous weight of the concrete blocks immediately flipped the aerator backwards, "pounding my thumb with the hammer" of the tongue of the aerator underneath the back edge of the mower. A nickel sized chunk of flesh was removed from my thumb, and my regularly scheduled, one pint blood donation was accomplished in the flash of a piece of yard equipment. On the positive side, I did manage to teach the neighborhood kids a few new words. The good news is, the injury was high enough up on my thumb I don't think it will prevent me from pursuing my passion again this weekend.
When I told the folks at work about it, they asked when was the last time I had a teatnus shot. I explained that I injure myself more than "Tim, the Tool Man", so the wife has me on an annual vaccination schedule. Sometime, I will show you my tags.
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