Driver Ed

Remember driver ed class?  They taught us all to "see the BIG PICTURE" while behind the wheel.  Look forward, backward , up, down...all around.

It's also good advice for life.

It sure is easy to get all wound up in the minutiae of our lives...like we're the only thing that matters on this spinning, round ball.

When I start feeling just a little too special, I drive down to the highway and watch five million cars, bumper to bumper, inching along to who knows where.  All those people...all their problems...all their working and striving and sweating and crying and earning and spending with just a few moments thrown in each week for some laughter and love.

And then I feel better because it forces me to once again see the BIG PICTURE.

And here it is: life is short.

We blow down the road with the top back and our hair on fire racing toward what we hope will give us happiness.

Here's an idea that will help.  Turn on your blinker.  Exit.  Pull over somewhere shady.  Turn off the motor.  Then take a great big breath.

Now isn't that better?  It's called LIVING.

Peace and love to you.  You deserve it!

Time Flies Like an Arrow (Fruit Flies Like a Banana)

Well, it's only been a year.  Hey, I've been busy!

After 30 years of working for The Man, when you finally get paroled, you tend to take it a little easier.  But in the immortal words of Poncho....Take it easy, but take it!

Here's my pledge to a renewed blog effort.

Much love from my family to your family this Christmas...

11 Days Until Christmas

The holiday season can easily become a stress-filled time with a plethora of problems.  A plethora!  Somebody say amen!

That’s why I choose to live on an island for one month out of each year, always beginning on December 26^th.

We share our island home with family and friends, and by January 26^th we’re usually ready to drive back over the big bridge to the mainland.

Usually.

So, in hopes of helping you to enjoy your holiday season island-style, I want to tell you about the yellow rubber bracelet I wear on my right arm.  Its four letters can become a guide for your life.  You know what I’m talking about…

WWMD.

That’s right.  What Would Marley Do?

Let these simple words from Bob fill you with joy and hope this year:

“Don’t worry… bout a thing…. cause every little thing… gonna be alright.”

You know the song!  Sing it!  Right now!  I don’t care that you’re in an important meeting!  Why are you screwing around on the internet anyway?

Guess what?  You don’t have to worry this year!

Know why?  Because every little thing is going to be alright!

Don’t you feel better already?  It’s 11 days until Christmas, and I haven’t even begun to think about shopping yet.

But my beach reservation is made.  Amen!

Don’t worry about tomorrow.  Today is the tomorrow you worried about yesterday.

The waves were crashing on Padre Island long before I was born.  They’re crashing there today… and they’ll be crashing a long time after I’m gone.

Message for the week: I send you peace, joy, and love this week.  His name is Jesus!

Churn My Buttermilk

In Lonesome Dove, the second-best book ever written, a whore named Lorena is despondent because she’s stuck on a cattle drive, probably somewhere in Oklahoma, when she really wants to be located in San Francisco where it’s cool.

Augustus McCrae, the epitome of cool, wisely states, “Life in San Francisco is still just life.  If you want one thing too much it’s likely to be a disappointment.”  Gus finishes his soliloquy by sharing, “The healthy way is to learn to like the everyday things, like soft beds and buttermilk – and feisty gentlemen.”

Gus, of course, is right.

Here are a few of the things that churn my buttermilk as I watch my beard turning gray:

Standing in a bright patch of sunlight out in the deep woods, letting the warmth heat up my Carhartt and my bones.

A grand-dog sitting as close as she can get, while resting her head on my knee.

Hot, black coffee in a cup… and time to drink it.

Whistling songs to a mockingbird in the top of a sweetgum tree, and smiling as the bird sings back.

Old friends who give long hugs.

Sitting in the cab of my pickup truck, where things are arranged precisely as I wish, and knowing that they’ll stay that way.

Being greeted at my local Wal-Mart by an impossibly happy woman from Jamaica who always flashes a huge smile and says, “Hey, mon!  Have a good day!”

A grandson who stares at me with eyes full of wonder… and then begins to laugh.

Friends who call at 2:00 A.M. just to see what I’m doing.

Sitting with my 89 year-old father by our campfire and listening, once again, to those stories about bombing runs in World War II.

Peace.

 Thought for the week:  "Read you some Bible today, the BEST book ever written."

He's From Oklahoma!

My friend, Walt Wilkins, shared a story with us last night about HIS friend, singer/songwriter Kevin Welch, who recently went out on the road to perform and forgot his boots.   

Walt, a Texas songwriting treasure, said that you always forget SOMETHING when you’re out on the road again.

The only pair of shoes Kevin had that night was his Crocs.  In his effort to “keep it real”, he realized that he would need to apologize to his entire audience before picking a lick.  (I’m so sorry…. I forgot my boots… so I’m going to have to do my whole show tonight while wearing my Crocs.)

So he did.

Walt’s bass player, Bill Small, opined that there were only three ways to be properly shod while playing music in Texas.  You either have to wear boots, flip-flops, or go barefoot.

The question is still unanswered about why Kevin didn’t just kick off his Crocs and throw down.  Who knows?  Maybe it was cold outside. Maybe he has tender feet.  Maybe he’s missing a toe.  

We’ll probably never find out, and it doesn’t really matter because he’s from Oklahoma anyway.

What’s important here, really important, is that Kevin had the integrity to own up to the fact that something was amiss (his boots) and that he was just going to be honest about it.

I love that!  How many truly, real people do you know?

The first time I met Megan she was dancing in the aisle of a Hooters restaurant on the San Antonio Riverwalk wearing nothing but a diaper.  It was cool because she was very upfront about the entire thing, and as hip as any two year-old child could be.

We immediately became friends, and I have marveled as she has grown into a wonderful, young Aggie woman who turns 20 years old today.

In true Texas style, when Megan was chosen homecoming queen, she seemed sort of, well, embarrassed.  She smiled, took the tiara, thanked everyone, and went back to being just Megan… back to being real.

Megan knows about true beauty, and is studying to become a special education teacher.  Isn’t that beautiful?

It’s real.  Like boots.  Like Texas music. Like the Alamo.  Like love.  Like flip flops.  Like true friends.

Real… somebody shout amen!

Thought for the week:  "Get real."