Figured it out!

I Facebooked Jimmy (Phipps) on Tuesday to see if he wanted to ride over to Bryan/College Station with me on Wednesday afternoon to attend the SFA Class of ’65 monthly dinner—my wife calls it my night out with the girls and, YES, I do know that Facebooked is probably not a real word—so what, get over it!

I should have known better but went ahead and invited Jimmy to ride over with me. Having know Jimmy since shortly after I arrived in Bryan way back in August of 1954 and entered the 2^nd grade (Mrs. Miller’s room at Crockett Elementary); I know how he likes to talk. You see, I’m a story teller and enjoy that lip exercise myself—maybe just a little more than I probably should have. Jimmy and I had gone our separate ways after graduating from Texas A&M University (Class of ’69) and entering into the service of our nation in the United States Army. We finally reconnected again when he moved here to Austin early last year.

That's me on the top left right beside Mrs. Miller (I think I was her favorite) and there's Jimmy at the other end of the row sorta next to Mr. Nabors (probably been in trouble earlier in the day)

The net result is that we have a gathered boo-koo of stories neither has heard from the other. So, as one might say: “There’s a target rich environment here that needs to be exercised.

Be that as it may, I can’t really say that I got my fair share of story-telling time yesterday.

Jimmy showed up at the house an hour early—actually, I was about to call him anyway and tell him to come on over and we could catch-up a bit before driving over to BCS. I was still cleaning up and had to return back upstairs for a short time and when I came down Jimmy was sitting in the kitchen with both my pups, Little Gus and Otis, sitting attentively at or near his feet while he went on and on about some war story from Germany. He has already started to get ahead of me and I wasn’t even in the room.

Little Gus looked up as I came in the room and with his eyes tried to communicate: “Can we go outside; I think we’ve heard this one?” I rescued them (again) and put them outside in their 40X40 run and Jimmy and I went into the living room to talk more before departing. Talk is sorta singular in this instance.

After topping of the Explorer, we were finally on the road—Jimmy in fine fashion once again! His memory of “stories told” is a little out of kilter—I know I have heard most of the ones he told on the way over, but it passed the time.

I managed to sit at the other end of the table arrangement at the Outback and wasn’t subject to any of his tales during the meal. Although, I will say that Lana Reed has as many stories as Jimmy has—she seems to know every movement that takes place in Bryan and most of what happens in College Station as well—I got very little relief during dinner.

After dinner, I got some air while waiting on Jimmy to make a stop by the little boy’s room and finally we were once again side-by-side on our way back to Austin. We spent a little time bashing those that didn’t show for the meal and pretty quickly, Jimmy was back into his “war story mode.”

Every-once-in-a-while I would stutter to start a story of my own, but couldn’t get a word in edge wise. I began to study the situation—having no real luck at deciphering the code for the first fifty miles or so.

All of a sudden, something must have distracted him, maybe the light in Caldwell or something else. I had my chance and I started right in with a goodun’. I got two or three sentences into it and took a breath—big mistake! Before I could inhale and exhale, Jimmy was into another story. It was no way nearly related to my story and I could tell by the look on his face, it really didn’t matter.

That’s when I figured it out. I knew right away that I had uncovered the answer. Now, what could I do about it?

What did I notice you might ask?

Well, I’ll tell you. When Jimmy goes into “story telling mode”, he doesn’t breath! My guess is that it’s an evolutionary development that he has worked on over the 40+ years we were apart and he has mastered it, believe you me.

This morning I started practicing not breathing while telling stories. I know I have to work up to at least fifteen minutes or I don’t stand a chance with someone who has a forty year head start; but I’m atryin’. I keep you advised of my progress.

Austin City Counsel Districts - Redistricting Commission Notes

Fixing the woes of the Austin City Counsel is a mountain of a task, but the work has begun. I’ve just returned from a lunch hosted by the Austinites for Geographical Representation (AGR), the League of Women Voters, and the Austin Area Research Organization to introduce prospective commission members to Angelo Ancheta, “a distinguished law professor who also serves on the Citizens Redistricting Commission for the State of California.”

( http://law.scu.edu/faculty/profile/ancheta-angelo.cfm )

Wait! Before you run off half cocked; I realize that those guys out there don’t always do things like the rest of the country. Maybe, we can learn from their struggle and try to it better here in Austin. After all, “Mr. Ancheta is coming to Austin to share his personal experience serving on the first citizens redistricting commission in California, a system upon which Austin's 10-1 was modeled.”

The luncheon was held at Threadgill’s today and the room was packed. Evidentially, there are some 400+ people signed up as volunteers to do the commission work. This number has to be whittled down to fourteen—a pretty big task in itself. A task force is at work currently doing just this.

Mr. Ancheta came to Austin, on his own dime we were lead to believe (no reason to think otherwise) to share his experiences as a member of the California state redistricting commission. Austin is merely redistricting some 850,000 citizens—California, some 38,000,000.

The Professor will also be speaking this evening at Bass Auditorium on the tu campus in an event sponsored by the University of Texas School of Law, LBJ School's Center for Politics and Governance and AGR.

Lots of good information came out of the noon luncheon—along with making the acquaintance of other commission candidates—and I look forward to getting even more info this evening at the lecture and Q&A session.

This has been a long time coming to Austin and still has an uphill battle to be successful. It is high time that the strings to the governance of our city be taken out of the hands of that small group that has strangled the city since the 1970s.

There’s a lot of work left, but still the major task to be overcome is the voter apathy and lack of participation. Let’s hope we turn that corner with this effort.

Dave Barry – “Insane City”

Seth Weinstein is in Miami to get married. His fiancée, Tina, is the elder daughter of the rich and powerful Mike and Marcia Clark. Everything, but everything has got to be perfect for Tina’s wedding. This is not in the cards for Seth.

Given a chance to meet anyone in Miami and the surrounding area, Seth will encounter trouble. The Groom Posse, Big Steve, Marty and Kevin will make nothing easy and manage to screw up at every turn.

Even Tina’s sister, Meghan, gets into trouble assisting Seth in his efforts to do the right thing: assisting a Haitian mother of two illegally make her way to join her sister in a new country.

The plot even includes a barely working orangutan, Trevor, who emotionally attaches himself to the nearest good looking woman and is wounded in a gun battle with Daddy Clark’s hooligans trying to intercede in the Haitian affair.

Some of the book is much funnier than other parts, but a good read overall. I will say the hour I spent listening to Dave Barry at his local book signing was the funniest hour I have spent in a long time. In person, the man is knock down funny.

I saw Jackie play!

I did. I saw Jackie play! Of the multitude that might take the trouble to read this, I am probably in the minority that actually saw Jackie Robinson play baseball for the Brooklyn Dodgers. I’ll get back to that later—there’s a few things I want to discuss first. The 14^th of April, 1947, some 66 years ago today was a big day in Baseball. If one puts their mind to it and discounts the fact that it was a sporting event, the single act of playing a baseball game that day is as BIG as only a ever dwindling few alive can imagine.

Jackie Robinson – 18 Apr 48

 

John Jorgensen – Pee Wee Reese – Eddie Stanky – Jackie Robinson – 15 Apr 47 (Day #2)

At the time the NFL and the NBA were still fringe elements in the culture of the United States of America—Baseball was king. All other sports were also runs.

Let me ask you this: What momentous events in history stick out in your mind when you think back? 9/11 is  probably the most notable for most. T an ever decreasing few, the answer to the question centers around World War II: December the 7^th, D-Day, Victory over Japan and big events like those. The next few generations probably recall watching the landing and walking on the moon—a momentous step, to say the least.

Keeping in mind the steps taken on the beaches and the moon; now, I would ask you a followup question: Was the first step on the moon a bigger step in the cultural history of the United States than the step taken by Jackie Robinson (backed by Branch Rickey) when he left the dugout that afternoon into the previously all-white realm of Major League Baseball? That step, arguably, was the shot heard ‘round the world in advance of the civil rights movement of the 50s, the 60s and decades to come.

The event came much earlier than I and my first memory of big events—but not much earlier in a life that has seen many biggies transpire.

Stealing Home – Ebbits Field 22 Aug 48

Pee Wee Reese – Jackie Robinson – Preacher Roe - 1952

*****

In the summer of 1951, life found my family residing in our 40X8 foot trailer in the small mid-state Illinois town of Taylorville—real small town of Taylorville. My dad worked for the oil exploration company Geotech and we moved around a great deal. We lived there for only a few months, but looking back those were fairly active months. Dad and Mom always wanted us, my brother and I, to experience as much as possible of the notable spots our traveling gave us the advantage of proximity. One weekend we spent in the Illinois capitol of Springfield—the first city of which I have memories.

The next available weekend, we traveled to St Louis, Missouri. I was as excited as my dad. We were going to take in the Cardinal game. My dad was the biggest baseball fan in the world—as far as I knew at the time. I thought I was the second. We never missed a Cardinal game on the radio. You might recall that the Cardinals were the farthest west team in the major leagues at the time and actually they were all you could get on the radio. Still that was OK with me—they were my favorite.

I was on my way to see Stan The Man Musial (6), Country Enos Slaughter (9) and Red Schoendienst (2). The cards also had such names on their roster as backup catcher Joe Garaoligo, Harry Walker and Peanuts Lowery. Sportsman Park, here we come!

The opponent that Saturday was the Brooklyn Dodgers. Some legendary names were on that roster as well. Our excitement level was as high as a kite. Tickets were purchased and we were making our way to our seats. As luck would have it, our trek took us right in front of the visitors locker room just as they filed out to make their way to the dugout tunnel—there they were right in front of me, the Brooklyn Dodgers—I coulda reached out and touched them.

One by one, as they made their way to the dugout tunnel my dad would point out and name each one as they passed. He recognized them from pictures in the newspaper, the only visual media at the time—long before TV was widely affordable and available. Still now, I can close my eyes, lean back and see them as they walked right there in front of me: Roy Campanella (39), Pee Wee Reese (1), Jackie Robinson (42), Duke Snider (4).A few other Dodgers present that day that my generation will remember: Don Newcombe, Ralph Branca (he who threw the other shot heard ‘round the world that allowed the Giants into the 1951 World Series), Preacher Roe, Gil Hodges, Eddie Stanky, Carl Furillo, Dick Williams (rookie in ’51, but the A’s manager in ’72 & ’73 World Series), Wayne Terwillger (34), and Carl Erskine (17).

That’s enough with the name dropping—but, they were all there.

Scorecard – Dodgers lineup – Aug 1951

Scorecard – Cardinal lineup – Aug 1951

Count them up: Cardinals—Stan Musial (6), Enos Slaughter (9) and Red Schoendienst (2) and Dodgers—Roy Campanella (39), Pee Wee Reese (1), Jackie Robinson (42), Duke Snider (4) and Dick Williams (38); all future Hall of Fame members; eight in that single game in 1951. You’d be lucky to find two future Hall of Famers on the same field in today’s game.

The Cardinals won that day by-the-way.

Here’s my point: without that day in April, 1947, three of the eight above may not be in the Hall of Fame. Those three and many more to come owe a great deal of gratitude to the suffering and courage that Jack Roosevelt Jackie Robinson underwent sixty-six years ago. Most don’t realize it, but Jackie’s #42 was the first uniform number to be universally retired throughout  all of Major League Baseball—this had never been done before.

Jackie Robinson was a great athlete and a great man. I saw Jackie play! I, for one, think he is due more!

A Few Topics Off the Top of My Head – Guns, North Korea & Welfare Payments

I’m kinda fed up with a few of the hot topics being bantered around in the news these days. So I wanta get a few things off my chest.

Let’s start with the Gun Control hot topic. I am thoroughly fed up with the GUILT TRIP the President and the media is trying to lay on us. I feel very sad about the loss of life that took place in each of these events. But, having stated that, I do not feel an ounce of guilt over there events. We are experiencing an inordinate amount of throat shoving by both the President and the news media. I don’t like it a bit.

My feeling toward this matter is: “one of the big reasons for the split in Red/Blue America is due to the pushing back and forth by the patricians playing their game of politics. I am not a member of the NRA and see zero need to become one. This organization has only the power that we the public grant them. I liked what one of the two Senators said about pushing the compromise bill through: (my summation) He couldn’t get behind what was happening and didn’t want to get caught up in legislation he couldn’t support. His answer was to get behind legislation he could support. I hope we get somewhere that we all can live with.

Then there’s that little snot from North Korea! What is gonna happen here is anybody’s guess. If he intends to excite a war, he just might do so. I don’t believe, at this point, that the US has anything to worry about. We do have troops that are in harm’s way should he decide to cross the 38^th. Make no mistake, this will get bad if that happens. Right where China stands on this matter is the larger question that only China can answer. The US can handle the little snot and his military very well, but early on, there will be a huge price to pay. Does anyone believe the people of North Korea are behind this guy?

Here in Texas, we once again, have the legislation pushing forward wit a bill that will require all (or most, I’m not real sure at this point) welfare recipients to go pee in a cup—drug testing. There hasn’t been any validation of a need for this action. Here, again, we have some patrician legislators pushing an agenda where there just might not be a problem. Somebody will have to pay for all this getting there, peeing, getting back from there  and the testing—you can darn well bet, it’s gonna be you and me. I’m not real sure how they are proposing the work-around to get needed funds to the children of the failure group—they say they have a way. But, doesn’t it sound like an increase in government (both people and funds) for a problem that may not even exist?

Woodpeckers are back in the park

Woodpeckers are showing up in the park almost daily now. It’s a real treat to hear these guys and then track them down as the navigate their way from tree to tree to pole.

.Their call is so distinctive that there is no guessing who it is that’s trying to get your attention. Finding them after the call is the real challenge. But this week, this task hasn’t been much of a challenge. My challenge has been to remember to take my camera with me. The cell phone just isn’t sufficient.

 

Once found, my second challenge is getting Little Gus and Otis to stand still enough and long enough for me to get a decent shot.

With the numbers I am seeing, I am almost assured of a fairly good pix even if I miss the first 10 or 12.

 

Don’t forget Toby, the number one squirrel in Texas. He’s got his eyes on something!

Sunday Breakfast - Army Style

This past Sunday morning my wife, Patsy, fixed a special breakfast. Actually every breakfast Patsy fixes is special—that woman can cook.

First off, she put the bacon on to fry. Not just any bacon; Peppered Bacon;. While just about any bacon will do—maybe not that maple flavored bacon, but just about any other bacon is OK. I am satisfied with any form of pork fat: ham, bacon or sausage is just fine. But today it was bacon.

While frying the bacon, she pulled some red potatoes out of the fridge and started in on them. Cleaning them up, she had them down to hash brown size in no time at all. Have I told you just how much I like red potatoes? They are the gold standard of potatoes. No potato can match the potato sweet taste of red potatoes, none, nada, zero, zilch! Get the point?

The potatoes are now on the stove-top in their own bacon grease and cooking away.

The bacon finishes, some of the grease is pored off, the bacon is set aside to dry and the eggs are headed for the skillet. Patsy knows just how I like my eggs. Oh ya! One over medium and one a little runny. I never seem to get them this way, but yet, I still get two eggs and they are good enough when they get to the table.

The smells remind me of those days I spent where I was sufficiently close and could take in an Army breakfast. Everybody has heard about the chow in the Army. I must remind you that every single person entering the Army is stripped of all rights of complaint excepting two: (1) the right to complain about the pay and (2) the right to complain about the chow. For these two reasons alone, GIs complain about pay and chow.

Well, from where I stand there is no complaining. I’ve never seen a GI miss morning chow unless he/she was tired to their rack or confined existing solely on bread and water—they will not miss morning chow.

Let me guide you through a visit to a military mess hall from the days that I served.

Entering the room, tent, shade tree—regardless of where it exists, one must sign, show their meal card, or whatever—some proof that you are authorized to subsist at that facility is required. This is not just a regulation, this is law. Congress funds military messing operations and without authorization, you don’t eat. I get into this further in a little while.

Once you have signed in, one heads directly for the chow line. Oh no, you don’t hold back, find a reason to dilly-dally; the aroma will not allow you that privilege.

Using your Army provided mess kit or a tray if you’re lucky enough to be in a garrison facility you start loading up on the fresh fruit. There’s some portion control involved but since everybody has different tastes, the cooks don’t pay much attention unless your tray looks to have the same capacity as a dump truck.

The egg cook is most likely trying to get your attention at this time. His function is to keep the line moving and have your eggs ready when you get to his station. Oh, he keeps pretty good track of who gets what. He does this over and over, day after day, year after year. A good egg cook is treasured by the mess steward, let me tell you.

Full of fruit and your eggs ordered, you turn your attention to the hot cakes, butter and syrup. If you can manage the space, drag yourself out a stack and lather them up.

One of the first items to add to your tray is the potatoes. Yes potatoes. One of the reasons I stayed in the Army as long as I did is because there were potatoes at every meal. Not just once or twice a day, but all three. Midnight snack, if the situation arose just as likely had some potatoes on the side also. Potatoes and more potatoes—bring ‘em on!

Proceeding on now, we try our best to get away with taking three or four slices of bacon, a slice of ham or two and finally three or four sausages. If any of the following is under strict control, go for the sausage. I guarantee you the sausage will be the best—never did I have a bad sausage patty my entire military career.

You have finally made your way to that egg cook I mentioned earlier. Right there he is with just what you ordered—one over medium and one just the slightest bit runny. Boy howdy—can you beat it?

If you still have room on your tray//mess kit, drag a piece or two of toast onto it and cover it with SOS. Yah SOS—that same ole’ shit—an Army staple for several hundred years and it has to be there every morning. No SOS and the troops would really complain!

Because your try//kit is so loaded now, go sit it down and return to the beverage area. Draw off a container of orange juice, two containers of milk and don’t forget a cup of coffee. Return to your consumption area and dig in. You now have sufficient sustenance to make it all the way to lunch.

Returning to the cost and value again. GIs eat free in military mess. Congress budgets for their subsistence but this is not true for the officers. Those guys have to pay their own way. When in the field, they may be taken off their subsistence allowance and eat quasi-free like the GIs but really there is no free meal for the officers.

During most of the time I was serving, the officers drew $47.88 a month. This rate was established during the Big One, WWII, and didn’t change to the mid to late 70s. Try to get by for a full month on $47.88 meal allowance—I dare you!

So when I was signing into the mess facility as an officer and forking over my 25¢ for the breakfast meal, it really ate my sole to have to fork over another dime for the officer’s surcharge. Another 10¢, can you imagine?