End Of Watch: Officer Garrett Hull, Fort Worth Police - September 14, 2018

The latest Texas Peace Officer to give his life in the line of duty is Officer Garrett Hull, Forth Worth PD.

Officer Garrett and his colleagues, members of the Criminal Intelligence Unit, had developed information leading to the identification of three subjects who, as a team, had robbed several bars and other businesses over the past few weeks.

On September 13, 2018 the CI Unit were engaged in surveillance of the three men when they committed a robbery in a local bar.  The CI Unit approached the bar as the men fled, and a foot pursuit began.  During the pursuit one of the subjects fired at pursing officers, the bullet striking Officer Garrett in the head.  In the exchange of gunfire that followed, the robber was killed.

Officer Garrett was rushed to a nearby hospital, where medical staff worked through the night and into the following day to save the wounded officer, while many of his colleagues gathered in the hallways and the waiting room to stand vigil.  Unfortunately Officer Garrett died from his injuries the following afternoon.

Officer Garrett left behind his wife, two daughters, his family, and his colleagues at the Forth Worth Police Department.  The officer had served seventeen years as a police officer.  I am proud to honor Officer Garrett here, but saddened at the event that gives rise to this memorial.

I pray for the Good Shepherd's comforting arms for this officers loved ones and friends, and for the safety of all peace officers across the nation and the world.

Meerkats, or The Wonders Of "Autocorrect"

It has been said (by someone) that we learn something new every day.  Well, here is one thing I learned today.

It turns out that if you write a text while still in bed, very groggy from just waking up, and not wearing glasses because they just fell off the nightstand and to the floor, and you misspell the word "meetings" so that the the typo is "meerings" (the "r" IS right beside "t," in my defense) autocorrect saves the day by correcting "meerings" for you.

Here is an actual text message exchange between my lovely bride and me just after noon today:

Bride (all wide awake at work): Want to take me to lunch? Sleeping still?

Me (very groggy from just waking up, and not wearing glasses because they just fell off the night stand): I am awake. I need to just wet my head and dress. Do you have meerkats at 1:00? If not, I will get dressed and be right there.

(Long pause, audible even in the text world, then finally)

Bride: Meerkats?

(Second long pause, audible even in the text world, followed by the realization that I had misspelled "meetings" but, once again, autocorrect SAVED THE DAY...or at least the message)

Me (now sheepishly picking up my glasses):Oh, I think that must be an autocorrect, I was typing "meetings." That is pretty funny.

Bride: I was thinking you still had to be asleep.

Me: And no glasses!

Bride: Ha ha ha (she laughed, sure, but possibly called the local sheriff's mental health task force as well)

So I learned today that if one types "meerings" instead of "meetings" the autocorrect will default to "meerkats."                       

As I pondered this new factoid, I also put on my running shoes and tied them tightly, just in case the Midland County Mental Health deputies REALLY ARE on the way to my house! I am thinking this would be a great time to go to Wally World.

Sometimes Life Can Be A Blog-Stopper

I like to think that sometimes life is too hectic to allow time for blogging.  That makes it NOT my fault that I have not made a new post since July 29.  I like to think that so much is going on, what with the new grandson and all, that I "just don't have the time" to write a post.  But then I hear someone say everyone has enough time to do the things they want to do (at least up to a point).  "Your priorities are not in line," someone else says, or you would blog without fail, if you want to be a blogger.

That is true for whatever it is a person WANTS to do, but ends up not doing.  Life happens.  I guess the question is "does one let life be a stopper of any kind, even a blog-stopper?"  I have to confess (well, since everyone can see it, I might as well) that I did let all the things going on in my life, at my job, and in the lives of my friends, become a blog-stopper.  The reality is that I let blogging fall down my list of priorities.  It turns out, in fact, that there are still twenty-four hours in a day, and seven days in a week.  Yes, different things may be happening, but all these things still happen within the same twenty-four hours I have always had between sunrise one morning and sunrise the next morning.  I am sure, looking back, that I could have found time to write at least one blog in the past week, but what a roller coaster ride the past few days have been!

Only a few weeks ago my second grandchild come into this world, and this time with much less drama and danger than did my sweet Baby Baby (my granddaughter).  I have not been able to spend as much time with my new little boy as I wanted, but that is only because so many other people want to spend time with him, too, including (believe it or not!) his parents.  Baby Baby has had to adjust, but she loves her little brother, especially after having decided that he cannot "go back into Mommy's tummy."  So I have double the grand kids I had just a few days ago.  And what a handsome guy he is.

But life is a roller coaster ride, and sometimes it is not such a fun ride.  Just a few days after my grandson was born, I learned that a friend of mine was facing the death of his older brother.  My friend had been caring for his older brother and spending as much time with him as possible because it had become apparent that this man had only days to live, if not hours.  My friend left his brother for the night, but before he had could reach his home, my friend received a call informing him that his daughter had just been killed in a traffic accident.  Still reeling from this devastating news the next morning, this friend received a call that his brother had passed away.  My friend had to bear this double-cross of losing two of his closest loved ones in less than a twenty-four hour span.  But he was both strong and had the loving support of his family and friends to help through this terrible time.

During this same weekend I myself received word of the passing of one of my favorite uncles.  He was a member of the family by marriage, but was loved by our family as if he had been born into it.  The funeral was planned for the middle of the coming week, and I was determined to be there.  I left work the evening before the funeral, packed, and drove the three hundred or so miles to my mother's house.  The next morning she and I gathered with our family to say a final goodbye to this good man.  This was also my mother's birthday, so there was an intense mixture of sadness and joy all wrapped into a single evening and half the next day.  I had a late lunch with Mom and my brother and sister, then it was time to get back on the road, a flash trip back to West Texas.

Back at work the next day, I learned that a new employee I desperately needed would not be coming to work after all, and I would still be short staffed.  Not a tragedy on the magnitude anywhere approaching the loss of a loved one, of course, but it made for a nervous time.  I would have to cover a lot of time for the empty position, as well as continually juggle the schedule so that either I or one of the workers would be available twenty-four seven.  Basically, if I was not sleeping I was at work.  And of if not one of those two, then with the grandchildren.

Even with all of the busy -ness and the emotional upheaval, the days still contained twenty-four hours.  I found time to distract my mind, but not time to put together a string of thoughts to make a blog post.  Staring at a computer all day and a flat screen television at night until I could not hold my eyes open was certainly not conducive to any kind of "real" thinking or creativity.  But the past few days I found writing a blog to be quite challenging when I could just "chill" into the night.  I remember one of my writing "heroes," Louis L'Amour,  said " I could sit in the middle of Sunset Boulevard and write with my typewriter on my knees. Temperamental I am not."  Not so for me.  I have to be in "the zone" for my creative juices to flow.

Now I am back into a sort of regular routine again, but really, it should not matter whether I am in a routine or not, blogging, or writing anything, should come natural to me and should be a high priority activity.  There are so many interesting things, people, activities, events, historical or scientific points of interest, so many wonderful things happening in the world, that topics are inexhaustible.  But one has to keep his priorities in mind, and choose to do things each day that he wants to do.  There may never be a more perfect time each day to write, or whatever one enjoys doing, than to just do it right now.  Yes, life will always keep coming, and will always throw a curve.  The roller coaster will always be an up and down, twisting turning adventure of a ride...but hopefully life will not always be a blog-stopper for me.  In fact it occurs to me...life's roller coaster ride should not stop the blog...it should fuel the blog and fire the story into life...

So to paraphrase...I will keep calm...and blog on...
 

What Can Happen In Just A Week? or "Life Has Its Little Ups and Downs"

Have you ever deliberately sat down and cataloged all (at least all that you remember or that was significant to you in one way or another) that happened in just a week, all that you have gone through, things that have happened to your friends or loved ones, events across the nation or around the world that were significant to you?  Have you ever considered the great "roller coaster ride" that we can experience in just one week?  I have to say that the past week was just such a roller coaster for me, for many of my loved ones, and for people I do not even, some of whom have never crossed paths with me.

This past week I experienced one of the most blessed events a person can have, shared in the pain of a friend who lost his daughter in tragic car accident, and learned of the death of my own loved one.  Those were just some of the highlights.  There were some things that happened that did not directly involve me at all, but had an impact on me and on many others as well.  One of those events, one that did not involve me, but had an impact on me and many others, a tragedy, is one that I will write about soon but I did not want to write about it today, on what is the first blog I have posted in several days. With the highs and lows, ups and downs, I suspect that my week was just about like yours, and all of us have stories to tell about last week, just one week out of one month, out of one year of our lives.

Years ago the late Charlie Rich ("Behind Closed Doors," "Rolling With The Flow," et al) sang a song that contained the line "Life has it's little ups and downs, like ponies on a merry-go-round."  If we just look at one week of our own lives, we see that that simple line above applies very much to those seven short days, as well as to a lifetime.  First, whether we are talking about a week or a lifetime, there are ups and downs, whether or not we choose to look at them as "little."  There are sad things, happy things, in-between things, but they can all happen in just those seven short days.  But the second truth is this: our week - and our life - goes on, or turns, if you will, just like that merry-go-round, in spite of all the ups and downs.

Without a doubt, the highlight of the past week was the bringing into this world our second grandchild, by his mother, our own second child.  There were so many things that could have gone wrong with this pregnancy, a high-risk pregnancy for several reasons.  Of course we were concerned for months about this day, but it was coming no matter the risks.  Life has its little ups and downs, like ponies on a merry-go-round.  The birth of Derek Weston and the health of the mother both during and after the birth were both such great "ups" that the "downs" were overshadowed, though not unfelt at all.

Baby Derek came into the world to his waiting, loving parents and his "big" sister (and his large extended family) on July 26th.  Unlike many newborns (just being honest here, not being grandfatherish) Derek was a beautiful newborn right from the start.  Yes, all babies are cute after a couple of days, but many look like little space creatures at hour one!  But Baby Derek came out looking good right from the start, and looks even better now. 

Our first grandchild, Leah (Baby Baby to me) was a little unsure, at first, about what the new little being meant for her.  She knew she would be getting a baby brother, but I think she was not prepared for that baby brother to be a pink little crying thing all wrapped in a blanket.  I believe she was disappointed to find that her little brother could not jump up and play with her right off the bat!  But is appears that in the days that have passed since Baby Derek was born, Baby Baby has (at least tentatively) come to accept him as the newest member of the family.  And no doubt he will play with her some day.  I am sure on that day there will be a huge fight because "those are Weeyah's toys!"

Like all the rest of the family, I took my turn holding Baby Derek, and just like it was for Leah from her day one, my heart is so full of love for this little bundle that it ached.  Really, it almost burst, because it is the same heart that is so full of love for Baby Baby, and now it is twice as full.  It is so amazing that such a little soul, with such perfect little tiny hands and feet, will one day be child, then a teen, then a grown man, and all in such a short span of time.  It truly is a short time.  It seems like only a few days ago that we brought our own children home from the hospital.  Older and wiser people told me this would all pass so quickly, and I thought they were crazy.  Now I find those crazy people were right.  The time has truly flown.  Baby Baby is now over three years old, and not really a baby any more.  My own Child A and B, and our new son Child B+1, are now grown and productive members of society.  But that cliche...it seems like only yesterday!...is so true.

Yes, this past week was surely a week of ups and downs, although by far the ups outweighed the downs.  I actually hope for a week filled with somewhat FEWER ups and downs than was the week past, but whether or not that is the case, the coming week will be filled with life's little "ups and downs, like ponies on a merry-go-round."  That merry-go-round would be such a bland ride if the ponies did not go up and down as they turned...ita quoque vita

The "Good Old Days" or Terror In A Small Town In Mississippi

Have you ever heard someone say, "How I miss the "good old days," or "I wish we could go back to the "good old days"?  Maybe you've said it yourself, and I know that there have been times I have wished for the simpler times of "the good old days."  But what could it mean to return to the "good old days"?  Would turning back the clock and somehow living in the "good old days" be "good" for everyone?  Or said another way, the "good old days" were not the same, were not necessarily "good," for everyone.

Case in point.  I attended a party with my lovely bride the other night, a gathering of good friends and some who would become good friends as the night went on.  It turned out that a gentleman I met at the party was a history major (as well as an attorney) and was the newly hired director of nearby museum.  He and I of course had much to talk about.  As we talked about Texas, the Southwest, the relationship of the neighboring states, and so on, evidently some item of conversation reminded the hostess of the party of something she remembered that happened to her uncle several decades before "the turn of the century."  This incident (actually several incidents) occurred in the late fifties or early sixties.

The hostess's uncle ran a drug store in Mississippi during the "good old days" when Black Americans were still not allowed to have their full measure of freedom and civil rights by a large portion of the White population, even though various constitutional amendments had passed which guaranteed everyone equality under the law.  The Civil War was over a hundred years in the past, and many a Black American had fought and died during World War II, while thousands of others survived the war along with "the Greatest Generation" in America.  Yes, all Black soldiers gave some, and some of them gave ALL in the cause of stopping the world takeover attempted by Hitler, Hirohito, and Mussolini.  But when the war was over, the Black soldiers returned to an America that quickly forgot their bravery and sacrifice.  It was clear that they were not a part of this Greatest Generation.

My friend's uncle, unlike many of the White residents of Mississippi at the time, decided to do what was right and what his conscience dictated.  He opened his store to local Black citizens.  They did not have to use the "back" entrance, could sit at the counter, and could depend on being served  courteously and treated fairly.  Well, this was still the "good old days."  Word soon got around that a certain drug store was open to Black Americans in a small town in Mississippi where most of the other business establishments still openly discriminated against Black people.  The Black people were happy; many of the White people were not.  And the local "chapter" of a certain organization was most unhappy.

Within a day or two of opening his store to Black residents, the White owner became the victim of a campaign of terror orchestrated by the still active and powerful Ku Klux Klan.  At first persons unknown hurled rocks or bottles through the front windows at night.  Soon these acts of vandalism began happening in broad daylight.  Shortly afterwards this honest and conscientious man began receiving death threats over the telephone and "Molotov cocktails" in his front yard.  After he received several calls threatening the lives of his family, my friend's uncle called his sister in Oklahoma, who made a quick trip to Mississippi to pick up her sister-in-law and the children.  The store owner continued to serve Black customers in spite of all the mayhem.  I am not sure how long it went on, but he and the store survived the threats and vandalism.  At some point his family was able to return. And also at some point, Black Americans were able to shop or secure services at businesses in that little Mississippi town without discrimination (open discrimination, at least).

This was a most interesting account to me.  I realized that while times were great, or at least good, for most Americans back in the "good old days," and many people might want to return to those good, simpler times, not everyone would want to return to the "good old days" as they were in the America of the 1950's or 1960's.  For some, the "good old days" were a quieter, simpler time.  For others the "good old days" were times of meager living and jobs that paid very little for a hard day's work.  But for others, the "good old days" were days of struggle, uncertainty, and yes, days of grave danger.

I realize that when most people say "How I wish for the good old days," they are speaking of good times, of friends or loved ones who have gone from this world, of the small towns or familiar neighborhoods that have given way to the lifestyle of the 21st Century.  Very few people want to return to the prejudice and discrimination that was a part of a by-gone era.  But when we wish for the "good old days" or reminisce on our pleasant memories, it is good to remember that the good old days were not the same for everyone.  I think it is also good to recall the heroes, especially the ordinary people like this store owner, probably not a hero in his own eyes, who helped in some small way to put "real" good into the "good old days."

May God bless the South - AND the North
May God bless Texas

And of course

God Bless America

She Shared Her Ice Cream With Poppee

This past Saturday my daughter (Child B) was given a baby shower in anticipation of the arrival of our Grandchild #2, debuting sometime in July.  The baby shower was attended by many, and was a great success, but alas, it lasted for some time longer than Baby Baby's attention span.  As the games and festivities came to an end, and the young couple began open gifts (yes, apparently MEN can now go to these affairs...but I digress) Baby Baby (our first grandchild) reached the end of her attention span.

At this point my lovely bride suggested that I find Baby Baby some "juice," which is the baby's code word for almost any liquid, except water, which she must be coerced to drink.  So I searched the location of the baby shower but failed to find any "juice" except for some water, which of course Baby Baby will not drink except when stranded in the Sahara for a couple of weeks.  Having found no "juice" in this locale, I took Baby Baby across the street to get a small root beer for her at a nearby fast food place. 

Since this was a fairly busy road, I carried Baby Baby across the street while instructing her to look both ways for cars.  But Baby Baby instantly recognized a red oval sign with two large white letters and yelled, "We're at the ICE CREAM STORE, Poppee!"  I said, 'Yes, Baby, we ARE at the ice cream store!"  Baby Baby said, " I want 'nilla!"  I assured her that we would indeed get some "nilla" ice cream.  Baby Baby said, "We can share 'nilla, Poppee!"  I said, "Sweetie, you can have your OWN ice cream, and Poppee can have ice cream."  Baby Baby said, "NO, Poppee!  You share LEAH'S ice cream!"  I asked if she wanted her own dish of ice cream and she again said, "NO! Leah share with Poppee!"

It was a touching moment, a near tear-jerking moment.  My little Baby Baby wanted to share HER ice cream with her Poppee.  So we went to the counter and ordered one small root beer and one medium dish of ice cream, um...with TWO spoons.  We had one of the best times together in her short life as we shared ice cream, bite for bite.  Then Baby Baby said, "Let's go to the park!"  At first I thought she meant that she wanted to go play at the park, but I soon learned differently. 

Baby Baby finished a bite of ice cream then "walked" her spoon across the table and to the half wall that separated the sections of the restaurant.  Then she walked her spoon up the wall and to the top.  Once at the top. Baby Baby let the spoon "slide" down the wall.  "I am SLIDING," shouted Baby Baby, "You slide TOO, Poppee!" 

Well, I grabbed my spoon and "walked" it to the wall, climbed the wall, and "slid" down.  Leah yelled, "Yea, Poppee! Now I go again!"  When Baby Baby slid down the wall one more time, she announced that it was once again time for ice cream.  We took a couple of bites, then Baby Baby yelled, "SLIDE, Poppee!!"  SO we walked our spoons to the park, climbed the slide, and then went for ice cream.  We repeated this action several times, then, lo and behold, the ice cream was gone.

I said, "Look Baby Baby, we are all out of ice cream!"  Leah said, "It was fun sharing ice cream with Poppee, and we played at the park."  I gave my little sweetie a BIG hug.  I told her, "I am so glad you shared your ice cream with me, Baby Baby, and I am glad we got to go to the park!"  At this point Leah announced that she wanted her "juice," the root beer.  I let her have a few drinks of root beer, but then the telephone rang.  We were wanted back at the Dojo, my daughter's and son-in-law's mix-martial arts school.  We walked back across the street and into the Dojo.

By this time the festivities were over and everyone soon went his or her separate ways.  As I drove home with my lovely bride, I was so full of joy and happiness.  My little Baby Baby WANTED to share her ice cream with me.  Her little angel face had such a beautiful smile all the way through our dining experience.  She was so proud to have shared her ice cream with me.  I think it was the high point of her day, and I know it was such a special time for me.

Baby Baby, as all babies do, will soon grow out of her childhood, will soon be a school girl, then a teen, then all grown and out in her own world.  That is why these kinds of moments are so special.  People always told me that my babies would be grown "before I knew it."  Well, that was certainly the case, and now, I tell Child B and my new son that their babies will be grown in such a short time, such a very short time.  I am not trying to scare them, only tell them of my own experience.  Special moments, like sharing ice cream with a small little girl, will be such fleeting moments, and soon gone...but the sweet, precious memories will remain.

I love my little Baby Baby, and her sweet parents.  And I love my little Baby Derrick already.  I can't wait for him to get here!!

Justify and Michael Smith: 2018 Triple Crown Winners

Some of my favorite sports events are the three horse races that make up the Triple Crown: the Kentucky Derby, the Preakness Stakes, and the Belmont Stakes.  I like these events even more when one horse wins the first two races, which means that there will be a chance for a Triple Crown!  So, Justify was that horse, and the Preakness was that race.  By the time Justify had taken the posts I was hyped for the possibility that Justify would win the Triple Crown.  The three or so weeks between the Preakness and the Belmont Stakes could not pass fast enough!

As the time for the Preakness drew nearer and nearer, the talking heads began their nay-saying, right on schedule.  First, there was Justify.  He had proven himself in the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness, as a horse that could run a fast race in the rain, and as a sprinting horse.  BUT...the Preakness was a long race, in fact the longest in the Triple Crown, at a mile and a half.  Sure, Justify could run fast, and could keep his footing in terrible conditions...but, could he pace himself for a long race, not burn out before the finish, yet not fall behind so far that he could not catch up at the end?  And the general consensus was that Justify would run himself out at the 1 3/4 mile mark.  Well, okay...

Then there was the jockey.  Michael Smith, who had ridden Justify in both the Kentucky Derby and the Preakness, was 52 years old.  As one reporter put it, Smith was in his "twilight years" as a jockey.  Michael Smith, however, was not just any jockey.  He had ridden other Crown Jewel winners and was, in fact, a member of the jockeys' hall of fame.  Nonetheless, the talking heads declared Michael Smith was too old to ride, at least, too old to ride well enough to win the Belmont Stakes.  There were so many much younger men in the race, younger men who had more stamina to endure this, the longest race in the Triple Crown.  Apparently Smith's resume and experience were not enough to counter the man's age; at least that's what the talking heads would have us believe.  

Yes, the talking heads were persuaded that the Justify/Smith duo had basically a fifty-fifty chance at the Belmont Stakes.  But when the gates opened, Justify was the first horse out, got a length ahead, and never looked back.  The first quarter mile was fast by Belmont standards, but Justify had a lead and Smith let him settle into a Secretariat-like stride for the next half of a mile.  The field behind Justify was very dynamic, as riders jockeyed in and out, battling for second place...because, first place was never in question.  In the last half mile only one horse closed to just a few feet behind Justify, but that is when Michael Smith let Justify have his head, and Justify really kicked in the after-burner!  The race was over at that point - Justify crossed the line with a clear lead and plenty of power to spare.  What a race!

Justify, ridden by a jockey in his "twilight years," was the newest Triple Crown winner, the first since 2015, when American Pharaoh won all three races.  Incidentally Justify and American Pharaoh were both trained by the same person, Bob Baffert.  With today's Triple Crown win, Baffert becomes the only trainer to have TWO Triple Crown winners in his curricula vitae.  

Congratulations to Bob Baffert, Michael Smith, and most of all, to Justify, for bringing in the Triple Crown!  Although it was only three years between American Pharaoh's Triple Crown and Justify's win of the Triple Crown today, there was a drought of THIRTY-SEVEN YEARS from the previous Triple Crown win by Affirmed. Will there be a Triple Crown winner in 2019?  That stats say that's not likely.  But today, what a great race!  And I am already geared up for next year's Triple Crown of horse racing!

May God bless all of you

And God bless America

After Santa Fe, More Gun Control Is Needed NOW!!

The terrible mass-shooting at Santa Fe High School points out the need for more and better gun control.  Not for more debate and more laws - MORE/BETTER gun control AT HOME!

That's right...I don't believe more laws are needed, that stronger gun control statues with "more teeth" are needed.  What is needed is more responsible control of guns at home.  The weapons used by Santa Fe shooter were "average weapons," not the much maligned "assault rifle," yet this teenager still managed to produce at least twenty casualties, including ten dead.

As expected, the talking heads on both sides are yelling about "More Gun Control" or "Guns Don't Kill People, PEOPLE Kill People." Both of these arguments are tired and so over-used, and (as the news says) "revived" at every mass shooting.  But the discussion that often "slips between the cracks" is the "how."  If the shooter obtained weapons either legally, or by circumventing all the laws on the books, then again, it is clear that no new laws are needed. We already have them!

The Santa Fe shooter broke several laws when he obtained, possessed, and carried his weapons with him.  First, he was under age.  The law limiting the age at which a person can by a gun is already "on the books."  He was too young to possess ammunition, ANOTHER law already on the books.  The shotgun he carried was "sawed off," or illegally shortened.  Yet ANOTHER law on the books that was violated, and probably not only by the shooter.  Most likely the shotgun was shortened by the owner or some other person who was "of age" to own the weapon, and chose to break the law as to barrel length.  So, it is clear beyond any further debate that no more gun laws are needed.  We HAVE THEM NOW!

What IS needed is GUN CONTROL.  No, I don't mean the illegal "damn the Second Amendment" type of gun control advocated by so many. I mean the common-sense gun control that falls squarely on the shoulders of each gun owner.  No amount of legislation can force people to use good judgment when storing their weapons, unfortunately.  But the many incidents of underage persons taking guns to school could certainly by reduced if true gun control were exercised by gun owners, many of whom I am sure are at this very moment are still decrying the atrocity committed at Santa Fe High.

It is so very simple to secure all of one's weapons at home.  There are devices and gun safes of many varieties and price ranges, so there is literally NO REASON that gun control in the home (or even in one's  business) cannot be practiced at all times.  I remember as a youngster being taught by my father, my uncle, and my grandfather, not to touch or handle the weapons that were located in our home and the relatives' homes as we were growing up.  I am not sure what was different then, or if maybe there was simply less coverage of accidental shootings then, but in any case, none of us children handled the guns without permission.  That does not seem to be the case anymore.  Also, not so long ago, many people carried rifles or shotguns in gun racks mounted inside their pickup trucks.  Again, people did not seem to trifle with such weapons in years past.

Be that as it may, however, the safe and common-sense approach is to have all your guns unloaded and locked away.  Not everyone has a gun safe, but everyone can MAKE their gun SAFE!  By the way, storing a gun in a vehicle (except if you utilize a secured rack of some kind) is not a good idea, either.  Guns left unsecured in a vehicle are presents for car burglars.  Guess what...anywhere in your car that you can think of to hide your weapon has already been thought of by the gun thief.

Back to guns in the home, it is abundantly clear that guns in the home need to be secured, now more than ever.  But wait!! What if someone breaks in while I am in my house?!  First, you need to secure your guns and ammunition the right way, THEN you can plan for what may never happen, although I and you know it does happen fairly often.  Here is a good plan for both keeping your guns secure and your family safe from attack in your own home.  First (and AGAIN) secure all your weapons.  Daytime burglaries are far more common than nighttime home invasions.  So, while you are at work and the kids are at school, you do not need access to weapons at your home...and neither do the BURGLARS.  Have all your weapons secured, even if that means chaining them to plumbing.  Second, when you are preparing for bed and feel that you need a gun close at hand and ready for action, you should remove ONLY the weapon that you would use in home defense to be ready and at close reach.  By the way, I do not advocate sleeping with a gun under your pillow.  There are just too many things that could go wrong.  But, I do advocate having the chosen weapon in a safe place near to hand, along with a very bright flashlight.  Both will be necessary if it should really come down to needing to defend your family.

How does this different, common-sense gun control apply to the Santa Fe shooting, or other shootings, for that matter?  Well, because in several of these shootings, including Santa Fe, the shooter took weapons from the "family armory" presumably without permission of the responsible adult (s) in the home.  Surely the parents did not hand the shooter the shotgun and revolver and tell him to take the guns to school.  Of course not.  But did they have the weapons locked away, or was the shotgun leaning in the corner of a closet, the revolver in a box on the top closet rack?  Unfortunately, these kinds of arrangements constitute "gun control" in many homes.

True gun control begins in the home, and the gun owner is ultimately responsible for the security of his or her weapons.  This is even more important when a child in the home is known by the parents to be depressed or to have some other emotional or mental issue.  I realize that parents can not know everything their children think or do, but parents DO in fact know, by the time a child is nearly fully grown, that the child has some mental or emotional issue and should never have access to weapons that are kept in the home. So please, secure your weapons.  Go to a gun shop or sports center and take a look at all the options, or view them online.  Then, BUY THEM AND USE THEM!  Please do not let your weapon fall into the wrong hands.  The life you save might be your own, your children, a police officer, or even a school full of innocent children.

May God bless you all, and God bless America

This Is America - I Refuse To Be Bound By The Laws Of The European Union - Even Just To Blog

I found the following notice pinned to my blog a few days ago:


European Union laws require you to give European Union visitors information about cookies used and data collected on your blog. In many cases, these laws also require you to obtain consent. 

As a courtesy, we have added a notice on your blog to explain Google's use of certain Blogger and Google cookies, including use of Google Analytics and AdSense cookies, and other data collected by Google. 

You are responsible for confirming this notice actually works for your blog, and that it displays. If you employ other cookies, for example by adding third party features, this notice may not work for you. If you include functionality from other providers there may be extra information collected from your users.



I reflected on the above statement for several days, and in that time I did not add any new posts to my blog.  But I am now back to post blogs until "B Blogger" takes my little (but THREATENING, apparently) blog off its website.  If that happens, I will just find a new launching point for my blogs.  Why do I feel this way?  Let's look at the B Blogger statement above.

The very first words are offensive and intolerable beyond description. "European Union laws require...."
Those first four words render the entire statement moot as far as I am concerned, and even more so on the eve of Memorial Day, a day when we honor the millions of fallen soldiers, sailors, and airmen who fought and died for OUR freedom.  The American heroes died so that AMERICANS could be free.  Yes, they died liberating our brothers and sisters across the oceans from Nazi and Japanese empirical intentions, but the ultimate aim of helping our allies defeat the Central Powers was so that the American way of life could continue.

So I find those first four words to be disgraceful.  We (you and I in the United States) are NOT under the laws of the European Union.  I understand that if I visit a member nation of the European Union (or ANY nation) that I am bound by the laws of those nations for the duration of my visit.  But how dare the hosts of B Blogger tell me that I am bound by the laws of the European Union if I choose to blog.  Readers of my blog are mostly in the United States, but some are from nations ranging from England to Indonesia.  You and I in the United States are citizens of the UNITED STATES, and therefore bound only by those laws passed by United States legislative bodies.

The B Blogger statement goes on to say that it is my responsibility to notify people in the European Union of any cookies that may be attached to my blog.  Well, attention European Union...I do not attach cookies to my blog.  If Blogger, Google, or any third party advertiser attaches cookies to this blog, I would have no way of knowing such.

Then the statement says that cookies from third party advertisers using this site may collect even more information than the blogger (me, in this case) knows is being collected by the cookie.  Well, since I don't know what information a cookie is collecting, and I may not even be aware of these cookies, I am pretty sure I could not give an educated answer as to what cookies have been embedded in this blog, and what information those cookies are collecting. 

But the main point is, the European Union has no authority over me as long as I am in the United States.  Would B Blogger have even posted the same notice if it were "required" by Russia or China?  I think we know the answer to that question.  I am sure any person would be enraged to hear that we were bound by the laws of those two nations, and the same goes for the European Union, as far as I am concerned.  

So, on the eve of Memorial Day, the day we choose to honor our dead soldiers, I choose to honor those soldiers by ignoring the statement from B Blogger.  I am NOT going to attempt to find out what cookies are embedded in this blog, nor will I attempt to find out what information such cookies are collecting.  I blog from the United States; therefore I will make no attempt to comply with laws of any other nation.  Of course I know that this blog can be seen by anyone around the world who follows it, or accidentally stumbles across it.  Of course I know (now, at least) that someone is attaching cookies to my blog, as my "payment" for using the B Blogger platform.  But here is one other thing I know, and believe.  If my blog, or the website that I blog on, is offensive to, or in violation of, a nation's laws, it is up to that nation to censor my blog or the website responsible for allowing such offensive blogs as mine access to the Internet.  

I am thankful and grateful for the sacrifices made by our American heroes, 

and may God bless America.

PS: I will continue to blog until B Blogger cuts me off.  I appreciate everyone of you who read my blogs.  If this blog goes away, I will eventually find another and be back on the net again.

J.J. Watt Opens His Heart To The People Of Santa Fe

Another mass shooting at a school, this time at the high school at Santa Fe, Texas.  Fortunately, this time the evacuation of the students got most of them out of harm's way, while a quick and effective response by multiple law enforcement agencies resulted in the quick capture of the shooter.  Tragically the shooter killed ten people before police were able to arrest him.  Several students and a couple of police officers were injured.

Another mass shooting...

I find I really don't have much to say about it, nothing to add, that hasn't already been said about these killings.  I certainly don't have anything that could provide insight on how a man, really a teenager, can just wake up and decide to kill a bunch of people.  I wonder even if we as a society knew why a person would do this thing, would then be able to predict when and where the next massacre would happen, and which possible shooter would commit it.

Another mass shooting...

I find that no words I, or anyone, could say will really comfort the survivors and the loved ones.  Only the Good Shepherd can do that, and only with time.  There have been so many mass shootings that words of sympathy are so inadequate anymore.  It will be weeks or months before those that lost their children, their loved ones, will even begin to heal.

Another mass shooting...

Sadness, anger, outrage, just as with all the others, but then...a glimmer of light in the darkness.  Out of the blue, Houston Texan football player J.J. Watt felt a calling.  He has offered to pay for the funerals of the ten victims.  No, this won't bring back the dead or undo the lasting pain, but...a gesture of love and compassion in the midst of all the pain and sorrow.  The cost of ten funerals could easily reach over $100,000, yet J.J. Watt stands ready to do what he can with what he has to come to the aid of people, fellow Texans, whom he most likely does not know.  But what an act of kindness, Mr. Watt.

No, I have nothing to add to this sad thing, but I do want to honor J.J. Watt for what he is doing for these hurting families.  Yes, there are and will continue to be monsters out there who are able to kill others, even their fellow students, but there are also people out there like J.J. Watt, who demonstrate the best in humanity right in the ashes and rubble of the worst in humanity.

May the Good Shepherd comfort the people of Santa Fe, especially the families that lost their children, and those that lost their adult loved ones.  May the Lord bless J.J. Watt for what he is doing for those hurting families in Santa Fe.

Peace Officer's Memorial

It seems like the years fly by, and now Peace Officer's Memorial Day (and National Peace Officer's Week) has arrived once again.  At this point in the year, not even halfway through, fifty-four police officers have perished in the line of duty.  Last year at about this same time, forty-nine officers had died in the line of duty.  Unfortunately it appears officer deaths this year will closely mirror last year's numbers.

The late winter and spring months of 2018 proved to be double-digit months, as far as deaths were concerned.  Gunfire has been the most common cause of police officer death up to May 15.  The second most frequent cause of death for officers this year has proven to be traffic accidents, not including deaths resulting in accidents related to police pursuits.  Three officers have died this year of complications from illnesses caused by 9-11 related duties.

Police deaths are not just numbers on the Officer Down Memorial Page.  Each officer who is memorialized was a person who had loved ones, relatives, friends, and colleagues.  Not only that, but each officer who perished in the line of duty was mourned by fellow officers both known and unknown to him.  And I know that many people across the nation are saddened as well to read of fallen officers they never knew.

In my years with the Waco Police Department we were relatively lucky.  Although from 1981 to 1990 several officers were wounded, injured, or criminally assaulted, only one officer was killed in the line of duty.  Sergeant Bobby Vicha was murdered in his own home by his brother-in-law, who had just murdered Sergeant Vicha's elderly parents as well.  The animal that committed those three murders has been on Death Row since 1989, and UNBELIEVABLE as it is to me, this animal lost another appeal in 2018!  There are several cases on Death Row in which evidence may be questionable, but this is NOT one of them.  Instead, what is questionable is WHY this animal is still breathing some twenty-eight years later!  The only positive to this situation that I can see is that this animal was held and never allowed to leave prison, thus not able to kill anyone else.  Sergeant Vicha was well-liked by those officers who knew him, and the pain of his loss has only been compounded by the justice system's lack of power to put down an animal so that he could never hurt anyone again.

In the winter of 1994, just over two years after I left the Lamesa Police Department, a friend and fellow law officer was killed in Big Spring, about fifty miles south of Lamesa.  Trooper Troy Hogue was killed by a DWI suspect after responding to a traffic accident on I-20 in Howard County.  The suspected drunk driver was seated in a patrol car but apparently had not been searched by officers at the scene.  After Trooper Hogue spoke with Howard County officers, he approached the suspect, who fired a single shot from an undiscovered handgun, killing the trooper.  Trooper Hogue was one of those officers that police officers admiringly call "an officers's officer."  This was a way saying that Trooper Hogue constantly went above and beyond what was expected of DPS troopers as far as assisting and advising city and county officers, and jumping in to help whenever he was needed.  As tragic as his death was, it was even more so because it was most likely a preventable death.  A too-oft repeated scenario occurred that night in Big Spring.  Officers who first arrived on the scene and knew that the suspect would be arrested failed to exercise even basic crime scene security, and committed the nearly unforgivable omission of failing to search a suspect.  Unfortunately, time and time again the officer or officers who make the mistake are spared, and an officer arriving later on the scene pays the ultimate price for other officers' failures.

I was working as a security surveillance officer at a certain West Texas hospital on October 9, 2014 when I saw Sergeant Mike Naylor, Midland County Sheriff's Office, walk into the hospital emergency room.  Sergeant Naylor headed the local mental health police task force, made up of both city and county officers.  In this position, Sergeant Naylor had created a mental health task force that truly protected and served the mentally ill in the county, using minimum force to restrain and detain these persons, and doing all possible to calm and assure these people that no one was going to hurt them, that help was being provided to them.  Sergeant Naylor truly excelled in this position, and took pride in this service, yet, he was foremost a police officer.  When the call came in that afternoon that a sexual predator (wanted on a felony warrant) was barricaded in a residence in the county, Sergeant Naylor never hesitated.  Within seconds he was out the door.  The last thing I and several others said to him was, "Be careful, Mike.  We'll see you later."

Less than an hour later Sergeant Naylor was back in the emergency room, this time as a critically injured patient.  The suspect had suddenly drawn a concealed weapon and fired one time, striking Sergeant Naylor in the head.  He never regained consciousness.  Doctors and nurses worked feverishly to save their friend, but the damage was too great, and Sergeant Naylor succumbed to his wounds within a few minutes.  Like Trooper Hogue, Sergeant Naylor was one of those officers who was routinely called "a cop's cop."  After shooting Sergeant Naylor, the wanted man, a couple of hours later, meekly surrendered to other officers on the scene.  The killer eventually plead guilty to Sergeant Naylor's murder and is currently serving two life terms.

Three men I knew, three men who were not just numbers on a page of statistics.  And since these men were killed, so many more officers have died in the line of duty.  Cops ambushed at public demonstrations or at service stations while fueling their cars, cops killed while stopping traffic violators, or while trying to prevent family violence, or even while working accidents or directing traffic.  Regardless of what the officers were doing at the time of their deaths, they were doing their job, neither backing down nor refusing to act in dangerous or hazardous situations.

I was proud to serve with Bobby Vicha and Troy Hogue, and was blessed to have known and worked with Mike Naylor in a different circumstance.  These men were not "just numbers," and neither were the many men and women who gave their lives as peace officers, both before and after these men.  All of these officers were men and women who were loved by someone, who were both parents and children, who mattered so much to their loved ones, their relatives, their friends...and of course to the fellow officers who were left behind to carry the badge another day.

I am proud to have been a police officer, and I am honored to lift up the men and women of law enforcement on this simple page, and in this simple way.

May God bless and watch over all peace officers everywhere...

And may God bless America.

End of Watch: April 27, 2018 - Officer Charles Whites, Round Rock Police Dept., Round Rock, TX

Officer Charles Whites, Round Rock PD, died yesterday of injuries, and complications of those injuries, he received when he was struck by a drunk driver while working a fatal accident scene on February 25th.  The driver was arrested and charged with intoxication manslaughter.

Officer Whites suffered severe head injuries and numerous broken bones.  He remained mostly unconscious and unresponsive in the days after his injuries although at times signs of improvement were noted.  Nonetheless, the officer eventually succumbed to his injuries.

My personal observation as an one-time peace officer, and as a private citizen later, is that somehow traffic accidents seem to attract drunk drivers almost in the same vein that flame and light bulbs attract moths.  I never understood if it was the flashing red and blue lights that seemed to draw drunk drivers right into the accident scene, or just the confusion of having to maneuver through a street or highway obstructed by one or more disabled vehicles.  Once I read a study that showed that patrol cars, fire trucks, etc., that were equipped with bright, flashing yellow lights to the rear were not struck as often as those equipped only with red, or with red and blue lights.  Apparently yellow lights actually cause a drunk driver to (TRY to) exercise caution, and to fear police attention more than do red and blue lights.

Regardless of the reasons drunk drivers seem attracted to road side hazards, driving drunk is both illegal and  STUPID.  The deaths and injuries drunk drivers cause is senseless and so needless.  Police officers are endangered by drunk drivers, but then so are all others who are on (or even NEAR) the road when drunk drivers pass.  Not only that, but anyone who chooses to ride with a drunk driver is also tempting fate.

Just two nights ago out on a highway just northwest of Midland, a drunk driver managed to hit not one, but THREE bicyclists who were, as usual, riding on the shoulder, NOT in the road.  Two of the cyclists were dead at the scene, one is still alive and in a local hospital.  These two deaths were just the latest in a constant stream of fatal "accidents" caused by drunk drivers in the West Texas area.  And deaths at the hands of drunk drivers continue unabated across the state and the nation.

Officer Whites was taken from his wife and family, and his friends, needlessly, in what was one of the most preventable tragedies of all.  One person, a fifty-five year old man in this case, could have made the decision not to drink and drive.  The decision not to drink and drive has to be made BEFORE one gets intoxicated, because once a person is "ten feet tall and bullet proof," that person can easily drive a car, right?  What's the big deal?!  Everything is alright, until a drunk driver causes a wreck and kills someone or injures someone.  The drunk driver is rarely killed or injured in the wreck he causes.  I have personally witnessed a wreck in which the drunk driver did not even know why his car would not "work."  He had no idea he had caused a wreck and killed a man...not until he woke up in jail the next morning.

Officer Whites gave his life in the line of duty, not trying to catch a murderer or bank robber, but while directing traffic around an accident that involved, ironically, a fatality, a person who was walking along the shoulder of the roadway and a car, probably operated by a drunk driver, swerved onto the shoulder and knocked the man out into the grass.

Officer Whites' death is particularly tragic because it appeared, at least for awhile, that the officer was improving from his injuries, and might have had a long and hard, but successful recovery.

My prayers for Officer Whites' family and friends, not only in his death, but also in the long, hard road they all traveled while hoping for this officer's recovery.

And may God bless us all.

End of Watch: April 25, 2018 - Patrolman Rogelio Santander, Dallas Police Department, Dallas, TX

On Wednesday, April 25, Officer Rogelio Santander, a patrolman with the Dallas Police Department, Dallas, Texas died as result of being shot in the line of duty on Tuesday.  Officer Crystal Almeida was also shot, along with loss prevention officer Scott Painter, who works for Home Depot, the location where the shooting took place.

On Tuesday, Officers Santander and Almeida responded to the Home Depot in northwest Dallas, where an off-duty Dallas officer and the store’s loss prevention officer were holding Luis Juarez, who had been arrested by the private officer and the off-duty police officer after leaving the store with items for which he had not paid.  Juarez was brought back into the security office at Home Depot and on-duty Dallas officers were called to transport Juarez to jail.

At some point, the off-duty officer left the security office, leaving Juarez in care of Officers Santander and Almeida.  The off-duty officer went to out to one of the Dallas patrol cars to confirm whether Juarez had an outstanding felony warrant for his arrest, which in fact proved to be the case.  When the officers attempted to handcuff Juarez, he retrieved a pistol from inside his pants and shot Officers Santander and Almeida, and the Home Depot loss prevention officer. The off-duty officer heard the shots fired call over the police radio and returned to the Home Depot security office but Juarez was no longer there.  Juarez was captured later that night after a high-speed chase through Dallas.

My prayers and deepest sympathy to the family of Patrolman Rogelio Santander and to his colleagues at the Dallas Police Department.  Also my prayers for the swift recovery of Officer Almeida and the Home Depot loss prevention officer, Scott Painter.

May God bless and protect all police officers as they do their jobs every day in spite of all the dangers involved.

The Good Shepherd's Story: The Rich Man And Lazarus

In the New Testament, in the Gospel of Luke, Chapter 16, starting at verse 19, we are told by the Good Shepherd himself the story of "certain rich man" and a beggar "named Lazarus."  My own "un-religious schooled" opinion is that this story is not necessarily a "parable."  I believe that there was indeed a certain rich man living in Jerusalem, or parts nearby, at the very time that Jesus, the Good Shepherd, left his father's occupation as a carpenter and began his ministry.  I also believe that there was a poor man, a beggar, also alive at that time, and Jesus literally KNEW Lazarus.  Some more knowledgeable than me might argue the points just mentioned, but that is not the point of this post, so I will move on.

Lazarus, the beggar that the Good Shepherd knew by name, had lain at the gates of this certain rich man's property for a good amount of time, possibly for years!  The rich man was so wealthy that he "dressed in purple and in silk" and passed by Lazarus, who was "covered in sores, longing to eat what fell from the rich man's table."  Furthermore, Lazarus apparently had few or no human friends, and his only comfort were the dogs who came to him and licked his sores.  One thing that Jesus tells us by his silence on the matter, in my opinion, is that the rich man never gave Lazarus a single crumb from his "daily feasts."  As my preacher pointed out, this certain rich man had a "Thanksgiving feast" every single day, thus he pretty much ceased to be thankful for all his blessings, if he ever was.

As we know, a time came when the rich man died, "and was buried," and Lazarus died also.  Did you notice, though, that the Good Shepherd did not say that Lazarus was buried.  It was possible that he was found dead, maybe by one of the rich man's servants, and was simply carried out of town and dumped in a ditch or ravine, since he obviously could not afford a funeral.  I am sort of going out on a limb with this opinion, but remember, the Lord said outright that the rich man was buried.  He could have easily added that Lazarus was buried as well, but he did not.  Nonetheless, both men died at about the same time.

When next the rich man is conscious, we find that he is in some sort of spiritual "holding area" or maybe hell itself, I am not certain, but we are told by the Good Shepherd that the rich man, now in  burning agony, can see across a "great chasm" Abraham, the patriarch.  Lying in Abraham's bosom, who should the rich man see but Lazarus, whom the rich man recognized immediately!  How do I know this?  I know because the rich man, now so very poor and in torment, begged Abraham (whom he somehow recognized as well) to send "Lazarus" to dip his finger in water and cool the rich man's tongue.  The rich man knew exactly who Lazarus was.  He could see that Lazarus was being comforted by the great patriarch himself, after a life of receiving nothing but bad in the world, especially receiving nothing, no help at all, from the rich man who passed by him, maybe stepped OVER him as he came and went through his gate.  He had every opportunity to help Lazarus, but chose not to do so.

Realizing that the chasm divided him and the place of torment from the place of comfort and rest in Abraham's bosom, the rich man made what to me seems a very strange request.  He asked Abraham to send Lazarus back to the rich man's home to warn his five brothers of the torment that might be waiting for them as well.  Apparently NOT ONE of the rich man's brothers had lifted a finger to help Lazarus.  But the rich man believed that if Lazarus went back from the dead and told the brothers what awaited them, his brothers would perhaps change, maybe start doing good by sharing their riches.  But Abraham told the rich man a truth, one that you and I should heed and understand.

"But Abraham replied, 'They have Moses and the Prophets; let them listen to them."

The rich man made one more attempt to save his brothers. "No, Father Abraham, but if someone from the dead goes to them, they will repent." 

Yes, I am fairly sure that the remaining brothers were not the least bit more generous than their lately departed brother.  Else, why would they need to change?  But Abraham said, "If they will not listen to Moses and the Prophets, they will not be convinced even if someone rises from the dead!"

The Bible tells us in both the Old and the New Testaments that we will always have poor people with us.  Many times the poor exist right beside the rich, the "blessed" if you want to call it that.  Jesus knew that there were poor people throughout the world in His day, and that there would be poor people in our world today.  I am not talking about people who are too lazy to work, even though they have the ability to do so.  I am talking about those, like Lazarus, who are not able to work either because of physical disabilities, mental problems, or for other reasons are not able to, and cannot be expected to, get and hold jobs to provide for themselves. 

The story of the rich man and Lazarus is challenging to me personally, and maybe to you as well.  For one thing, I know that the Creator, and the Good Shepherd, had and have the power to end poverty or to otherwise create a situation where no one would ever have to be poor, except through the poor choice of not working for a living.  But God and Jesus did not do so.  Not only that, but I did not receive that wisdom it takes to know for sure whether some person who appears to be a beggar is actually a "con artist."  Oh, sometimes I can pick out a poor con artist (by that I mine a person who is a poor actor, not monetarily poor) but most of the time I do not know WHY a person who is on a street corner begging is poor or homeless. 

Have I ever been "ripped off" when I helped someone? Probably, because I know that there are some good con artists out there.  But have I ever FAILED TO BE BLESSED when I helped someone?  No, I have not.  First, in my ignorance of not knowing for certain whether or not a person to whom I gave money or food was actually "in need" I still had the satisfaction of believing I had helped someone, that is I had acted as the Lord's hands.  Second, I invariably received a blessing of one kind or another after I helped some poor person.  Not that I help with the intention of "getting paid back," but that I received some unexpected blessing shortly after helping a person in need; a blessing that I did not expect and did not ask for. 

But the point of the story (the TRUE ACCOUNT OF AN ACTUAL HAPPENING, in my opinion) is that you and I should take every opportunity to help people in need.  And there is a somewhat sobering, in not downright frightening, aspect of this story, that is that we who have the means should help in accordance with our means.  Even a "poor" Christian has enough that he may share with someone less fortunate.  How much more should the wealthy share with those in dire need.  And how frightening is the prospect for those who indeed step over poor people every day and never lift a finger to help, never share a scrap.  The rich man that Jesus spoke of fed his animals MUCH better than he fed Lazarus, whom he apparently never fed at all!  My own opinion is that Lazarus, had he been given a few left-overs from the rich man's table, would have generously shared his food with his only companions, the dogs who licked his sores.

Is this story directed mostly at "the rich?"  I don't believe so, but I could be wrong.  I believe the Good Shepherd wants all of us to help others, especially the poor, as much as we are able, but even more so if we have been blessed to the point that we are "rich."  Unfortunately, when a person becomes "rich" (that is has lots of money and possessions) it is very easy for that person to become somewhat arrogant, to forget from where the wealth actually came.  Yes, the rich man probably was a shrewd businessman, or maybe he inherited his fortune.  But somewhere along the way he began to believe that he alone, or maybe with some help from his equally selfish brothers, had become a "self-made man" who owed nothing to anyone, even to God.  And that was his undoing.

Don't let a lack of generosity and sharing be your undoing,  Yes, I think there are times when it is apparent that a "beggar" is actually a con artist, but if you worry about this possibility, you may NEVER help anyone!  Better to share, and occasionally be "taken in" than to never take the risk, and the OPPORTUNITY OF DOING THE LORD'S WORK.  I think one of the easiest ways we have of doing the Lord's will is simply sharing what we have with those who do not have as much.  But be warned, it is also easy to ignore the beggar, to step over him, and go about your business.  In so doing, you may well one day find yourself in that place of torment with the (not so) rich man, while you see the poor there with Lazarus, in the comfort of Abraham's bosom.

Take the Good Shepherd's words to heart...

And may God Bless you all...

A Day At Home...In THE TWILIGHT ZONE!

It is 3:30 in the afternoon, this being Tuesday.  I find myself with the gift, the blessing today, of being able to sit outside in a lawn chair and enjoy the day for awhile.  I am recovering, well pretty much RECOVERED, from a couple of medical procedures, but still not quite up to full par yet, but that is a blessing, in disguise.  It is a beautiful West Texas day, a little windy (surprise! - not) but the sky is that beautiful, deep blue that I have not found in other part of my beloved Texas.  West Texas, at least the stretch they call the Permian Basin, does not have a lot of "beauty" to offer, but the West Texas sky is certainly a point of beauty way out here.

I have spent most of the day watching/listening to Season One of "The Twilight Zone," believe it or not!  I had watched many episodes of the Twilight Zone in the past, but perhaps I was too young then to really perceive the depth, the social questions, that Rod Serling examined in many of these programs.  By the way, I am also listening to "spa music" as I sit here typing.  Back when I first watched the Twilight Zone I surely would not have sat around listening to "elevator music!"  I guess both my social awareness and my musical taste have changed over the years.  Not all of the (shh...a Blue Jay has just landed in the branches just over my head!) Twilight Zone episodes are in-depth examinations of social questions, however.  Some are ironical, whether in a lighthearted, whimsical way, or a "Karma in YOUR FACE!" kind of way (rats! the Blue Jay just departed my presence.  Even the short visit was its own blessing to me).

I had to interrupt my viewing of the Twilight Zone a couple of times, twice for chores around the house, once for yet another trip to the dentist (luckily everything was okay and I left the dentist without having to pay anything out-of-pocket...another blessing!).  After the dental visitation, I also had the pleasure (and the great and infrequent blessing) of having lunch with Child A.  He (luckily) inherited his mother's "brains;" therefore he is not only very smart, but is a brilliant conversationalist as well.  Lunch with him involves subjects as varied as current politics to why some people today feel the need to eat laundry products to feel socially accepted.  Child A's brain is powerful as some computers, and his intellectual take on both common and exotic subjects is always amazing to me.  I myself am a "plain and simple, ordinary man," so I am in an excellent position to appreciate Child A's intelligence and insights (Ahhh...now I am in the company of a red-winged blackbird. I never imagined that this bird would be a denizen of the semi-desert, liking water holes as much as they do).


I apologize for the brief interruption, but the lawn chair I was boasting about earlier suddenly and spontaneously split right down the middle of the back.  Hmmm....I hope this is not some cosmic remark about my current weight!  The chair did not break completely, thus I was not injured...but I lost my train of thought.  Oh yes, the Twilight Zone.  One of my favorite, more or less lightheartedly ironic, episodes stars Burgess Meredith (best known as "The Penguin" in the old Adam West Batman show) as a little, unimportant guy who works as a bank teller, but can't do his job well  because of his almost obsessive desire to read; to read ANYTHING, but especially classic literature.  He cannot read at home because his wife constantly throws away his books and magazines, and constantly demands household chores from him.  At work, our hero reads his books while trying to make change and keep accurate accounts at his bank teller's window.  He is eventually called into the bank manager's office and given a final warning: if he is caught reading on the job ONE MORE TIME he will be fired!  So, at lunch time he sneaks into the bank vault, locks the great vault door, and settles in for an hour of unadulterated, uninterrupted reading.  Alas, while he is in the vault, War War III occurs, is over within the lunch hour, and the city (presumably the entire world!) is reduced to rubble, with almost no one surviving all the nuclear explosions.

After the bombing is over, Burgess Meredith leaves the vault and discovers that he is the only living being in the entire city.  At first he begins running desperately for his apartment, calling out his (less than) beloved wife's name.  Soon he realizes that he can't find his apartment.  Nothing looks the same.  The streets are covered in the shattered remains of the tall buildings, and no landmarks are to be found that could have led him home.  Suddenly he stumbles across what once was a large public library.  The building is nearly completely destroyed, but many hundreds of books survived the explosions and destruction.  Hundreds of books!!  Our hero is in heaven!

Forgetting all about the end of the world, forgetting even about  his more-than-likely dead wife, Burgess Meredith excitedly runs from pile to pile of books, exclaiming with delight at his great fortune.  He finally has time to read ALL the books he ever wanted to, and without any interruptions, without anyone telling him to do his job, and above all, without any nagging from his wife.  Nothing matters now...because he can READ!  He then spends a couple of hours stacking books into separate batches, one for each month of the next two years.  Finally, after getting his books arranged just so, he sits down on some concrete steps and wipes his brow.  In so doing, he discovers a classic piece of literature laying just out of his reach in the rubble.  He quickly leans over to retrieve the book, dislodging his glasses from his nose as he does so.  Unfortunately, the glasses...though they survived Armageddon, alas, could not survive the two foot drop to the floor of rubble.  Both lenses shattered to smithereens!  Our hero cries out in anguish and disbelief!

Ah, the irony.  So much time to read now, so MANY books to read, no possible interruptions (discounting radiation poisoning, I suppose) and he broke his glasses!  For, you see, our little man is BLIND AS A BAT without his glasses.  And yes, not a single optometrist survived the nuclear attack.  But...could you expect anything DIFFERENT...when you are in The Twilight Zone???

Thanks for your kindness, your blessing to me in reading this post...

And may God bless you all...

The Austin Bomber: Case Dismissed

The Austin Bomber investigation seems to have died as suddenly as did the identified suspect, Mark Anthony Conditt.  After Conditt blew himself up (very nearly killing a SWAT police officer as well) the police were left with the job of determining what Conditt's motive might have been, as well as whether or not Conditt had left additional explosive devices around the Austin area.

The last current news about the Austin Bomber was published around March 25th or so.  I waited vainly for more information, but none was forthcoming.  No new information, just speculation based on the 25-minute "confession" that did not answer a lot of questions.  I realize that police agencies will not open investigation files to the public, but all of the agencies involved in the Conditt investigation have left the public in the blind.

The most recent news concerning the Austin Bomber investigation was actually published on April 9th, but was apparently not considered a big news event.  Also, I suppose, the Syrian government's (alleged) use of chemical weapons on its citizens overshadowed the news from Austin.  It turns out that on April 9th the US Attorney's Office in Austin dismissed a federal complaint against Conditt which had charged him with possession and transportation of explosives in violation of federal law.  The dismissal was a formality since Conditt was already dead, but additional details were contained in the federal affidavits that led to Conditt being charged.  Instead, such additional "details" were redacted, so that reporters received no more information than they already had, and you and I, the People, are left in the dark just as before.

Here are the words of Christopher Combs, Special Agent-In-Charge of the Conditt investigation:

We are concerned it could inspire other people to do other acts.  The subject in the audio confession says a number of statements that concern us, and we just don't want that to live forever on the Internet.

So we see that the FBI is protecting us from a "copycat" bomber.  I don't know about you, but I am not interested in a word-for-word diagram, with pictures, about how the bombs were made.  I am more interested in a couple of troubling aspects of this situation, that were never explored fully in the media, which for the most part seemed eager to publish only a strict narrative as provided by "the Bureau."

For one thing, there were numerous surplus electronic parts and chemicals in the Conditt home, found after the home was searched, but little information about whether or not the police believe that more explosive devices were assembled.  A second question is the choice of targets.  Many agencies were involved in the investigation, yet little information was discovered as to motive, or at least we were given little information.  Finally, the two roommates.  Two other men lived in the Conditt home AT THE TIME Conditt assembled his bombs.  Both men were interrogated by the police, but nothing of what the police learned from these two was released.  Did the police learn something important from their interrogation?  Did they learn nothing?  Either way, Agent Combs and his colleagues chose not to even briefly summarize the interrogations to the public.

So many unanswered questions beside the ones I raised.  Did the police find evidence of a method of targeting, a reason for targeting those who he did? Was Conditt either a member of, or inspired by, some political group or hate group? How did this young man know how to make and transport these devices without blowing up himself?  One officer speculated that Conditt may have "practiced" by detonating his home-made bombs "out in the field."  Apparently far enough out in the field that no one heard or saw anything unusual, I suppose.  But, before exploding his bombs, Conditt had to learn how to assemble the working electronics, yet do so, again, without blowing himself up in the process.  In other words, the bombs that blew up in Austin were probably NOT the first bombs Conditt had made. 

I am thankful that Conditt's reign of terror ended so quickly, and I praise the police for doing some good police work in putting the pieces together to zero in on Conditt.  But I believe that the people, especially the people of Austin, need more answers.  One of the most important things the people need to know is that the many law enforcement agencies involved in this investigation followed all leads and are reasonably certain that no one else is out there to carry on with Conditt's work.  No, the police do not need to release any dangerous details of the investigation, but neither do the people deserve complete official secrecy.  But it would appear that with the dismissal of the charges against Conditt, law enforcement has dismissed itself from any continuing investigation into this most disturbing and tragic story.

The Good Shepherd's Hands

It is sometimes difficult for me to understand how life can interfere so much with things I want to do, like daily blogging.  I have always thought that if a person really had enough desire to do a thing, the person would never fail to do that thing.  I have found that some things slow me down or at least I LET these things slow me down.  My lovely bride, on the other hand, managed to knock out, I mean, EARN a doctorate degree in nursing.  For me, having to work twelve-hour days while doing my job and the job of training a new employee, then immediately training another employee, was all it took to derail my "daily" blogging.

There is another "demon" that occasionally hinders my blogging, and that is, why is what I have to say important to anyone, or even just entertaining to anyone?  We have all had life-experiences that others would like to hear about, maybe learn from.  But why mine?  I am not a movie star, a politician, or even a local "big fish in a small pond."  Nothing that I have done in my life is really "stand out."  As one my favorite songs says, "I'm just a plain and simple, ordinary man." (RIP Dale McBride)

Having said all that, I once again start pounding the keyboard...

One of my dear friends (an actual friend, not just a Facebook friend) had a terrible experience today, but she was able to step in and render aid in a very critical situation, possibly saving a person's life.  It may be that my friend will never know whether the person to whom she rendered aid lived or died after she was taken away in that ambulance.  But I commend my sweet friend for doing what was needed when she could have stood by in shock and helplessness like several others gathered at the scene of the accident.

By rendering aid, I mean that my friend attended a lady who was trapped in a damaged, mangled automobile, keeping her vital functions operating until paramedics arrived.  She also attended two other victims.  I know from personal experience that when a person does his or her best to help victims of traffic accidents, shootings, or other traumatic situations, that person also invests a lot of heart and emotion.  Even if the person who needs help is a complete stranger, the emotional investment in those few awful minutes (that seem like HOURS!!) creates a bond that will last so much longer.  Quite likely my friend will never meet the person she helped so much, or that person's family, but she is bonded with this person, and concerned about the outcome, just the same.

It is now been over five years, but I remember it like yesterday, when my wife and I were involved in a similar event as my friend.  My lovely bride and I were travelling from Surfside Beach to meet my cousin for lunch in Pearland.  As we travelled north on Highway 288 and had just left lack Jackson, I happened to look in my rear-view mirror where I saw a pickup nearly a mile behind our car, weaving dangerously in and out of traffic while travelling at a much higher rate of speed than all the other traffic.  As the pickup quickly overtook us, I moved into the right lane and carefully watched this vehicle, ready to take evasive action if necessary.

The pickup flew past us like a rocket, swiftly changing in and out of the traffic lanes, nearly side-swiping numerous vehicles in the process.  I told my lovely bride that this was not going to end well.  The pickup was gone within seconds, and we momentarily lost sight of the pickup as our view was blocked by the Highway 35 overpass.  But as soon as we passed the bridge we saw a white car literally in the grass to the right of the right land and shoulder.  The car looked like an army tank had run over the back of it.  And we literally saw debris still falling from the sky as the pickup, now on its side, skidded down the shoulder.

Of course we stopped, along with almost all the traffic.  My lovely bride and I went to the car first, arriving just as two off-duty firefighters arrived and opened the passenger door of the car.  There were four people in the car, and a very strong smell of gasoline.  Fuel was seeping out of a broken gas tank.  The person in the front seat, the mother, was not severely injured but was clearly in shock and disoriented.  Two younger kids and a teen-aged girl were in the back.  All three were seriously injured but the teen-aged girl was unconscious and barely clinging to life.  Even a layman like myself could clearly see that she was near death.  My lovely bride took charge of this young lady while the firemen removed the others from the car.  I had found a man lying in the grass and I thought the pickup had hit him, but in fact the man had jumped out of the way as the pickup hit the car.

He was not injured physically, but he was aware that the young girl was badly injured, maybe dying.  I left him briefly and went to the pickup, where a couple of men helped the driver climb out.  He was a young man, only twenty or so.  He asked if he had hit something, and the smell of alcohol flooded him and his vehicle.  Yes, he was so drunk he could barely stand.  I left him in the care of the two men, and about this time the first police officer, a captain with the Brazoria Sheriff's Office, arrived on the scene.  I told him about the driver then went back to stay with the man I had found in the grass.  By now the full reality of the situation had come home, and I held him as he cried.

My lovely bride had never left the young lady's side even though she was trapped in a car that could go up in flames any second.  Firefighters had arrived and were washing away the gasoline, and in the distance I could hear the sound of rotors.  A helicopter was coming for the young lady.  She died, however, before the helicopter landed. The other children were flown away.  Eventually the "scene" was cleared and traffic once again was able to move down the highway.

After I had spoken to one of the officers working the accident, I turned to locate my lovely bride, and found her standing with another nurse who had stopped several minutes after we arrived.  My lovely bride was soaked with water and gasoline.  And when I went to her, she broke down as the emotions she had to restrain while caring for this young girl erupted to the surface.  The traumatic things these people went through, the helplessness as this girl's life literally faded away while my wife held her, the sheer stupidity and senselessness of the man's actions that caused this terrible accident. I am sure all of these things my lovely bride felt were similar to the emotions my friend went through today.

As a police officer I was in this situation many times, and was trained to function even with the emotions and tragedy.  Nurses are much the same, in that they have to continue to function even in the face of emotion and tragedy.  I am always impressed when I see or hear about "civilians" who are able to render aid or do whatever it takes to control a situation, because most people are not "trained" to maintain calm, at least a functional calm, when faced with a horrible situation.  And after the situation is "over," the emotions jump out, and very often there is not a suitable release, other than to just talk about it with someone.  The emotions do not just "leave." People who witness terrible sights and help those who are injured will relive the scene time after time.  And they may be unable to put the emotions behind them because they cannot learn the outcome, the "epilogue" to their experiences and efforts at the scene.

To all who have ever rendered aid, rescued someone, defended a person in danger, even if you never know the actual "outcome" I commend you all for what you have done.  But even more important, those that you helped appreciated it, even if they can never tell you.  You did for them what was needed at the time, and that is a reward in itself...the Good Shepherd said "It is more blessed to give than to receive."  And when you gave all you could, in that traumatic situation, you indeed become the hands of the Good Shepherd.

For Carla

A Visit With Baby Baby, OR, "She'll Be Wearing Paw Patrol When She Comes!"

My lovely bride, myself, and Child A spent a wonderful evening on Tuesday with our granddaughter (Child A's niece).  I have grown to love these nights with Baby Baby.  She has grown from an infant to toddler so quickly that my head is still spinning from that night she came first came into our lives.  I cannot believe she is nearly three years old!  I don't remember Child A and Child B growing up so fast! But it is true, our Baby Baby is not a baby anymore.  She is such a little chatterbox now, and certainly has a personality all her own.

Baby Baby (I know, she has a real name, but I still use my made-up name for her) is such a sweet little soul.  She is so musical now, singing all the little songs children sing, but now ad lib-ing her own version of such classics as "She'll Be Coming Around The Mountain" or "Jack and Jill." We never know what the lyrics will be.  For instance, a new verse to "She'll Be Coming" is "She'll be wearing Paw Patrol when she comes...she'll be wearing Paw Patrol when she comes..." She makes up her own words to "classic" children's tunes, but also makes up her own songs as well.  Now she also makes up dialogue between herself and as many as three or four dolls or animals at a time.  AND she still talks to me or sings during this intricate dialogue!

Perhaps the best blessing for me lately is that she has designated me as her official playmate when she visits us.  As soon as her little feet clear the front door, Baby Baby yells, " Poppee, play in my room?"  She is not asking if she can go play...no, she is demanding that I come to play WITH her.  One of the things she likes to do most is act out "There Were Five In The Bed."  This involves singing the song of the same name while Baby Baby, three designated dolls or stuff animals, and of course, Poppee, all lay in the bed and roll over.  Of course I cannot literally lay on her bed because it only supports seventy-five pounds, so I just lay with my head on the foot of the bed.  Then Baby Baby sings "They all rolled over and one fell out!"  At this point I roll off the bed and "bang" my head on the floor.  I am rewarded with Baby Baby's peals of laughter. 

Tuesday night I was held "captive" in Baby Baby's room for nearly an hour as she and I played different games, played catch, chased each other, and raised a general "ruckus" that kept my lovely bride on egg shells as she wondered which one of us would really "bang" our head on the floor, the wall, a corner of the dresser, etc.  In the end, no one was injured, but I was in need of an oxygen treatment.  But most of all I was blessed by the laughter and the sheer joy that child had as she played in her room with her Poppee. 

Then it all came to an end.  As happens more and more frequently now, Baby Baby announced that it was time to "get in the truck and go find MommyDaddy."  That child seems to sense now when the clock is about to strike "half past Eight."  I am pretty sure that as yet she cannot tell time, but she knows within five minutes when it is time to leave.  She begins saying her goodbyes to Child A and to Honey, gets into her shoes, and heads for the door.  She usually takes a choice toy and some crayons with her (not that the truck is not already loaded down with same) to occupy her hands while she sings, "Jack fell down...OUCH!!...and broke his crown.  And Jill came tumbling after."

I have to admit that taking her back to MommyDaddy is a sad task for me.  Oh, Baby Baby and I sing and talk all the way back to her parents, and it is truly a joyful and fun-filled time.  But then comes the really hard part, for me, anyway.  I have to give her a hug and tell her good-bye for the evening.  Sometimes it really tugs at the old heart-strings after such a great visit.  Imagine, her parents actually think THEY should get to spend time with her, too!  After all, she DOES live with them.  And within seconds of getting her inside the dojo, Baby Baby has hugged both her parents then raced off to play with the other kids who are waiting for their older siblings or parents to finish the mixed-martial arts classes.  She dismisses me with a hug and a kiss, and says, "See you later, Poppee!" then she is gone like a whirlwind.

The ride back home seems so much longer than the ride to the dojo, and no matter how loudly I play the radio, the silence of no granddaughter in the truck is so deafening.  Okay, I admit it...sometimes I am teary-eyed as I head east back toward Midland.  Just then I can see Baby Baby's sweet face and a happy thought crosses my mind...

"She'll be wearing Paw Patrol when she comes!  She'll be wearing Paw Patrol when she comes!"

May God bless you all...

And may we always be thankful for our children...