Life's Lessons

Who farted?

Like my contemporary's, I, have some fairly stodgy opinions. And I, like my peers, count myself patient when each offers up his or her strongly felt opinion that differs with my own. At least I have not been unfriended a lot yet. What I can do however, is appreciate the humor of the event each time I spew out a loaded opinion. It's as if someone farted at the Dinner table. The silence is deafening just before the Crickets start chirping. Anywhoo

 Recent comments and events involving lifelong friends have given me pause for reflection. A lot of reflection. Like Salmon, when the kid's are grown, we consider it our time, but nature deems it something else. Like "mission accomplished" biologically speaking.  Then it's just luck of the DNA draw.  Well we are just biological alarm clocks after all. But I have a given bit of curiosity and wonder about the trip to "here". The events, people and places I have attempted to go over about my life with my own somewhat dim mind and it's a little tough to specifically name the actors that I feel live up to that precise expectation. Obviously there are the majors. Getting married, birth of my children; career etc. Also one has to figure in the influence one's family had as well. The town he/she grew up in, but now I am getting even more minute.  From time to time I think I'll talk about it here.

 I am not even sure that this qualifies but while taking a walk to freshen my mind tonight, and thinking about this, these memories  kept rising to the surface. They also came with a smile so I suspect other's might enjoy the tale so I will relate it here on my little piece of the Internet.   I guess in my youth I was a rumble tumble enough kind of kid but I didn't really have anything that put me above the average or less average in my mind. (And in keeping with the tome of this little diddy, I have to mention names of folks.) I wasn't, if I have to admit it all that good at the conventional sports in high school so no glory there. Grades were ahem. Wasn't all that social and I needed a win so to speak. But one thing that kind of rose to the surface for me was Boxing. I found that I had a little bit of knack for the sweet sport. See myself and several friends got involved with a Boxing Club in Twin Falls, Idaho when we were, oh 15 or so. Actually a pretty good sport for the lot of us given the number of well, other rough and tumble guys that lived in that little town. K, I'm not mentioning names because they are probably not assholes any more and maybe it was a perspective thing anyway. But the club was Probably run by one of the best Boxing coaches in the state and at the time boasted alumni that had been serious olympic hopefuls and national ranked type guys. In the Seventies, Boxing was the shitz. Not like how it is perceived  now.   And even the Amateurs.  Who doesn't recall Greg Page and Teofilo Stephenson, Sugar Ray Leonard and Ron Lyle in the mid seventies. Anyway, myself, Glenn Murray, Mike Stoddard and this really tough Hispanic guy, Jr. were the serious guys who spent alot of time in that gym getting some amazing coaching while getting to spar, and coming out alive, with those national standout guys I was talking about. We also had the added bonus of getting to knock the crap out of each other several times a year. And as well, the outcome was expected. We each had a few fights, lost interest but the lessons learned.... well, just kidding. We survived. Stayed out of jail more or less most of us, but yeah, we also learned to throw a few punches correctly as well as take a few. Which I might add came in fairly handy growing up in a town with, you know those "guys". 

I Didn't think much more about it until a couple of years later while living at the Dorm at Boise State University, I met this tall, kind of angular guy, Matt Croner who looked like a basketball player more than a boxer. Well, thats cuz he was a basketball player.  A very thoughtful, insightful kind of guy with an amazing sense of humor.  We kind of struck a friendship right away. But our conversation eventually got around to boxing. Of course I had to brag.  And when I mentioned that I had dabbled, his face lit up and before you know it, Boxing gloves appeared and we were squared off in the community room of that dormitory floor. My expectations given the hundreds of rounds that I had sparred with all those guys that I was going to have to be careful not to hurt him. You see I considered myself top dog in this sport, well, except a couple times when I got whacked pretty good by Glenn. And the several times my mouth piece had been knocked out by Mike and Jr. But anyway. His expectations were, I can only think because I had no idea of his history. I didn't know that his father had been a ranked pro in the "olden days" and that Matt and his brother had grown up fighting since like, One.  And frankly, after getting to know Matt, I think his expectations were after our conversation, well he was gonna make something hurt a little bit just to pop my balloon a little. And he did. I tried to outsmart him by leading with my face, but nosir, he didn't fall for it and popped right away at it. But the real WTF moment came when he, in the middle of an exchange turned his head. Aha my turn I thought, a split second before I got whacked on the side of the head. Really? who throws a punch behind their back? A damn basketball player that's who. 

 Anyway over the next couple of years my interest was rekindled and I "kind of" got back in the gym. Motivated by following Matt's exploits in the sport. Matt was the kind of guy that he would buy a ticket to watch some Amateur fights. Somebody wouldn't show up and Matt would get invited to fight. And with little forethought or trepidation, hopped right up if he had brought his trunks or somebody else had some to spare. I wonder now if he got reimbursed. Anyway, little did I know that he had become the main sparring partner to a guy by the name of Joe keene. And one day I was invited to go a round or two with Joe. I knew little of him other than he was good but on this occasion my turn came right after Matt had gone a few rounds with Joe. Matt explained a few things to me how I might survive the round as my turn came. But I wasn't paying attention apparently. I remember being troubled by the blood all over Matt's mouth piece. So anyway, I didn't survive the round. I actually got one in early though. Dropped a right "boom" , and smugly asked this guy with over a hundred fights and several titles "if he was "all right?" And that folks, is when I learned what they meant by "protect yourself at all times". Okay, I didn't learn it for several minutes until the oxygen returned to my brain and I stopped closely studying my shoelaces.  Joe was gracious enough to let me go another round after I recovered.  I basically let him pound away at my face because, Damn I couldn't take another body shot like that. 

 A longer story shorter, during this period of my life, I kind of followed Matt into this sport and got the wins that I had shorted myself because of his help. I actually quit smoking for ever the most brief period of time and won the state Golden Gloves in the late seventies. His wife Janet made me a robe that I own to this day. But it wasn't on my own and never would have happened had I not met Matt during those years. I find some of my values influenced even today by our friendship.. Matt later on went on to some could say considerable success family and business. Training other young fighters and even becoming a Mayor for a period. And our contact gradually dwindled. Like I say, a man of integrity and honesty, but some might say a bit underhanded in the ring. "Damn Basketball player". Borrowed the Pic from your FB. Hope you don't mind bud. And by the way, Thanks.

Johnny Cash........

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test 2

Today Pan in USA
Placa De Catalunya, Barcelona, Spain in

Sinton, Texas You gotta love it.

So, lisa and I are travelling through Sinton, Texas, (I learned later). One of the many tiny towns that we have affectionately nicknamed "Speed Traps".  And as I am driving through town  trying to look "Natural". Lisa suddenly exclaims "Blogworth Blogworthy" and says "pullover" cuz she wants to take pictures. Shit. So I pull over keeping my head down hissing "hurry up, Jesus". And these are the pics she

 takes.

 A big smile comes over my face and all of this kinds of "Peaks my Interest" as my old Buddy Ellery used to say.  And I thought there has got to be some kind of story here.  My first thought was to call the Convenience Store across the street cause there is no better source than a Conveniance Store clerk as everybody knows.  Truly. Then I did a simple Internet search. And this is what I came up with.

Sinton Sign Captures Dispute Between Sheriff and Resident

Posted: Apr 29, 2014 5:23 PM MDTUpdated: May 05, 2014 5:52 PM MDT

 

 

 

 

SINTON (Kiii News) -A Sinton man is trying to send a message to the community about San Patricio County Sheriff Leroy Moody. He lives in an old movie theater, and is using the marquee to display his expletive filled message.

The sign reads, "George pack your s*** and get the h*** out of dodge, April 17, 2014, by Sheriff Moody."

George Sosa, 61, said he put the sign up to let people know just what the sheriff told him. When the attention the sign has been getting was pointed out to him, he said, "I would hope so. I hope it goes national. International. I hope he loses his damn job."

The sign is located on Sinton Street. You can't miss it if you're driving through town. Sosa said he has been living in the old movie theater for the past three years, and on April 17, he had an exchange with Sheriff Moody at the local La Tapatia Taqueria, just a few streets away.

Sheriff Moody said he was upset with Sosa because he felt he wasn't dressed appropriately for eating at the taqueria. This is how Sheriff Moody recounted their exchange.

"He said there was a police car last night that was coming by the funeral home, and coming around there by the flag, the Jackson Square, what we call that. He said they didn't have any lights on. He said, 'What were they doing?' And I said, 'Well I don't know George, but it wasn't none of your damn business whatever it was.' I said, 'You know, why don't you just pack your s*** and move to Dallas.' And that's just the way I said it."

Sheriff Moody said he believes that Sosa is violating a city ordinance by living in the theater, but the sheriff also said he is not going to be pressing any charges. He also said this is America, and people have the right to express themselves.

The police chief said he has asked his city attorney and city secretary to look into whether Sosa is violating any city 

ordinances with the sign, and by living in

 the theater.

by Taboola

Promoted Links

And here is a link to their Facebook page

Sinton Facebook Political Page

Ok, all I gotta say is does this old vet 

deserve a little bit of love?  Hell yeah. 

(Old Vet described as anyone over 60, 

you know, the new 40 )

drive through that little town in my 2004 

Dodge Ram Pickup

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Farewell to a Best Friend

I got the FB message on Thursday night. Thought it was from you but it wasn't. It was from Steve. Jeremy found you. No other details other than the word "Dead". Not hurt, in an accident or even in the Hospital as has happened before. No, it was the word that signified it was all over. The fat lady had already sung. The Crows had already roosted at home. The curtain had fallen. It was just over. I was mulling over in my head not fifteen minutes earlier calling you. I had some points I wanted to discuss, OK argue because I was in the mood. Now, not only could this not happen, it was never going to happen again. I had to deal with this massive hole that was forming in my gut and then I realized, it wasn't my gut but my life this hole was forming in. None of this was on my Radar. I was dumb struck. Thank God for Lisa. She immediately said we were heading to Idaho. She contacted the Boss and arranged somebody to fill in while I just sat there. Dumbstruck. Forty years is a long time and rarely did we go for more than a week without calling to find out the what's up. The myriad of emotions washed over me. Yeah, I usually don't but the tears came. I just couldn't believe it. It took two days to get to Boise and we learned a little more. Steve had already arrived and was accepting the responsiblility he never in his wildest imagination thought he would be doing. He probably thought he would be going first. You were kind of a dumbass bud.  You didn't have a will or anybody else attached to your stuff. But Steve, with the help of Deborah and Jeremy is sorting it out. Oh yeah, they were a mess too. I talked briefly with Rob and heard Ginger had been told. Brian wasn't there but I had talked with him earlier. I got a lot of stuff out of my system 
previously man. I could watch more detached. You would have been proud of them. Steve is the top dog and he is doing you right. On Facebook you are getting a lot of Love bud. Oh I got my Raft and Frame and stole some tie downs. Suck it bud you owed me. Deborah doesn't think she can go on the trip to Greece that you just paid for next month but I told her you would have wanted her to go. I told her to drink Ouzo, with your other ex Ginger and to leave your pic on the beach. I figured you would like that. Who the hell knew you had Heart Disease. Jesus, no smoking, no drinking the past several years. WTF. 


 There was a public viewing. Bastards did an Autopsy. I skipped it. I had gotten used to your looks. And frankly, I don't think the plastic surgery would do you any favors. And here is the hard part. We got so much History man. When we were a couple of early twenty somethings assigned as room mates that summer in 75. I walked into the room, you were sleeping. I sat on my bunk on the other side of the room and thought "Jesus he smells bad". You woke up and there is something in Nature. Big guys just seem to like each other. We feel each others pain. There are countless stories that some little guy who went up to "the biggest guy in the Bar" and did something stupid to get his ass kicked. But this crap usually ruins the big guy's night too. There is just some kind of automatic trust. But dude, the times, the good beer and the never ending laughter. We started out as all twenty somethings do, by proving over and over "who was the better man" Boxing, Wrestling Rafting, Arm Wrestling, Thumb Wrestling, over and over and over until we got old and it hurt too much. Then we got noisy and started to argue about stuff. God, I was a Novice on that one.  I got better You would take an obviously extreme opposite position just to piss me off and get the action going. Good times.

 


That summer after we met, I thought Hell, we will get a job with the Rail Road. A hundred degrees and we drove the hell out to the middle of nowhere, where we heard an " Extra Gang" was working. A hundred guys shoveling gravel and pounding spikes. Ten hour days. You got hired first, due I guess to your superior gift of gab. But I was hired a couple of hours later. We worked two days before we had two days off and needed it. Talk about work. Anyway, that summer was kind of a blur of drinking beer, driving the thirty miles back and forth to work in a Corvette, a Corvette mind you that had been frankensteined and geared so low fifty miles and hour was too fast. It was a convertible whose Windshield covered us up to about chest high and the rest exposed like a motorcycle. Usually that summer I was so exhausted or hung over I didn't even mind the bugs that were collecting in my teeth as I snoozed to and from work every day where we worked our asses off. After that experience I guess kind of bonded us. We did a lot of stuff together after that. Inseparable friends.  hikes where we would go on death marches to high mountain lakes in early june taking only the ingredients necessary to cook the food which we intended to catch. After slogging through waist high snow in the high country. Did I mention it was early June? About Nine or Ten that evening one of us caught a small fish and then, did I mention how hard it was to start the fire in the cold and wet. But that fish did get eaten. You know now folks run the Payette with fancy equipment. Quality stuff. Aire and Miravia Rafts. Folks running the South Fork alot of them wearing helmets. In high water, I have seen them sneak down the side of Staircase rapids. You know they describe this rapid as the "biggest and meanest of them all" Few people know how we became rafting enthusiasts. When we were mid twenty somethings I bought that "Mighty Udisca" supposedly six, but more like three, man raft. That had those cheapo four foot aluminum oars that fit in cheap plastic oar locks. The raft had no seats, or "Thwarts" and no structural support. More like a rubber doughnut. But it was fine running the Boise River through town. Where we learned the craft of running rivers. "Buuuurrrp". Hey, there was one little riffle in there. Anyway one day we decided to try the Main Payette. We had driven by and seen various rafts floating there. I guess we thought it was just a more wilderness version of the lazy Boise float. So we packed up "Mighty Udisca" a cooler of beer, Suntan lotion, you know, for the Sun. And a bunch of snacks. We hopped in at the put in point and it wasn't fifty yards and we knew we were in trouble. We collided with a larger raft in the first rapid and flipped. Those cheap life jackets, you know the kind they put on little kids and cost about five bucks? Well we had just bought a couple of them on the way up, you know, to be responsible rafters. Well they saved our ass that day. Jeff rode out the rapid hanging onto the boat and the guys who had flipped us pulled me into their boat. We lost everything but those cheesy oars. Somehow we managed to get to the take out that day and were forever hooked. I studied Staircase, and I suspect few have done what we did. Before the Summer was over, we stuck a Truck tire inner tube into the center of "Mighty Udisca" and ran that Class IV rapid. We smacked some rocks hard and that little raft filled with water but we were still alive at the end. Jeff injured his leg and suffered for months. Since then we have both run that rapid many times and swam it during mishaps, myself twice. I will never run that section again and count mself lucky to be alive. Remember "Pair o Dice" sitting on the front of the Cataraft's pontoons. Paddling while Gale Oared on the Milner run. I couldn't sleep the night before but I wouldn't change it for the world. We held each other to this high masculine standard though. The Testosterone Zone. We would have faired better with a little less of that and a little more of the Estrogen. Few know that you were a Cheer Leader  at BSU.   OK, I was never convinced that that was the manly thing to do.  It didn't work out and that following spring, you walked on the BSU football team.  I know that you redeemed yourself.  It didn't work out but you weren't cut from the team.  They just changed your position.  I could have kicked your ass when you did that.  You would have been a starter.  Not a doubt in my mind.  Everything we did was geared for quantity. Young guys gulping up the world. We competed for women, We rode motorcycles, we climbed mountains, we lifted weights, we fought. We did everything together for many years. During college and after college. We followed the same career track. Initially working as bartender's and then into the field of Corrections after graduating from college. We even freaking retired on the same day seven years ago. You had my back and I had yours. You were the first person I called when I learned that I was to become a father, each time. You were also my Best Man. When your troubled younger brother came to live with us, it was as if he were my own. When you lost Kevin and your Mom. I shared your pain. We always had two distinct points of view, but wielded great influence over each other. One thing I could count on. Whenever, I mean whenever something came up in my life, you took my side unquestionably. I could go on. We took a trip in the late seventies. Hopping into a car to see where it would lead us. First time yours, the second mine. Taking a turn in the middle of the night into a grassy pasture on the side of a hill to throw out a sleeping bag. Illegal in California I suspect. When I awoke it was stormy and the Ocean was right there. My first picture, one that is indelibly etched into my brain was a school of whales swimming not two hundred yards from shore. Sitting in the wind in our sleeping bags on that grassy hill looking at the Whales in that stormy Ocean. Something I had never seen. When we were room mates, both of us accumulating so many parking tickets that were in the shape of envelopes that you were supposed to put money in. Well they carpeted our car floors. It was a civil fine so who cared. It wasn't as if it was important or anything. They'll get paid. Until they changed the law and they started issuing warrants for them. I recall waking up and hearing you tell the County Officer's downstairs that I did not live there and you had no idea who I was. Later, I would do the same for you. That took some clearing up. Because you changed vehicles so often, sometimes without bothering to wait for the title. Or the title would be in two previous owner's names, they most often were either fast, sporty, and old pieces of crap. When my Dad offered to sell you a more sedate reliable vehicle for a hundred bucks, you turned it down. Choosing instead to buy an old Camaro that burned four quarts of Oil going from Pocatello to Boise. You sold it to Ernie Weatherly who shortly thereafter was driving it and the front wheel came off almost taking out a Blimpies crowd. You, with your corny "Howdy" greeting to everybody, sought not to harm others and you had a mostly live and let live attitude. But when somebody messed with your family, you became this very scary relentless machine of vengeance.  Whew. Nuff said on that point you scary Bastard. Times changed in later years. And in my mind I contrast those old cars that you wheeled and dealed and chewing gummed together with the craftmanship you showed me in that fence you painstakingly built by hand a year or so ago. The influence of the master craftsman that was your older brother, the martial artist, the craft brews, the gun collections and the limitless desire to build something with old style craftsmanship. These new traits in your later life, I always attributed to the influences of your older brother. And then we climbed Mt Borah in 1994. Not once but twice. With your brother Steve, his wife Barb and your nephew Bill. The second time with Rob. Thats how many times it took to reache the top. And always the banter. The battle of wits, for wits that in my little peabrain smug mind I always thought I won. But somewhere, I guess in the mid eighties you learned this whimsical thing that always set you to giggling thinking "you was the man". If I said I was tired, hungry, thirsty or in any manner offered up some descriptive statement of myself, you would always add "and ugly too". And in your pea size smug little brain you always thought that that gave you the upper hand. Really, I mean really? "Ugly too". Somewhere along the way I think you sensed rather than knew something was amiss. Jeremy, who was a son to you had returned to live with you. I could tell that made you happy. You also seemed to all of a sudden reach out to those who were important to you. The only thing I can think of is to maybe say good bye. Just the ones I know but I suspect you contacted everyone. Just recently you travelled out to Portland to spend time with Steve. And then to Deborah's, who you had not slept under the same roof for many years. She was always significant to you and an important part of your life. Even after you broke up with her nearly twenty years ago. Because I was kind of ruthless I joked about your life BD (Before Deborah) and AD (After Deborah) because of the influence she had on your life.  And after that, Joe and Tanda's accident. A tragedy almost  like this, you were completely unprepared for. And just like you, every day was spent at the Hospital. I could tell Tanda's death completely tore your heart out. Jeff you had such a strong personality and one of the most opinionated SOBs I know. But that big Heart of yours, it wasn't just a disease. And when you reached out to me in that way that you do, Jesus Christ you picked the dumbest thing we have ever argued about. But I always felt good after talking with you. I should have sensed something myself.. And I guess the timing here almost looks, I don't know, maybe a plan. Well, if it is benevolent, I think it is good and you should be there. But if it is not, and their is evil. Well, you know what to do.






And you know I hounded you to give up those crap jobs you were working after you retired and get on with it.  You had just started and you were headed to Greece next month.  You had plans to get the Sailing certification next year down in Florida, but well it looks like there were other plans for you.  And really Jeff, can you look at yourself in the mirror and honestly say this man has not had a full life.  Rafting the Colorado, flying through the Grand Canyon, Scuba Diving, Skiing. exotic tropical vacations with Deborah.  Hell, even I took you to Tijuana twice.  Hawaii once.   The Steelhead trips, the hikes.  Even those weeklong conventions we used to go to. And thats just all I can remember. You had it all.  Adventure, career, family, good friends and love. What else is there? They are going to intern you next to Kevin.  I know you will like that.

I told Steve and Barb that I had closed.  I lied.  Probably never will.  I had to get some alone time to bang this out.  I needed to honor you man, the best way I could think of.  I am going to really miss you Brother. The talks, the laughter, yeah even the Martini's and the Beer. I am heading back to Texas now,  out in the Mesquite and I guess they call it Puckerbrush there in Oil country, where I will be working nights again.  I'll look up at that night sky,  see the stars and I'll probably think about you more than some would guess.  And maybe we'll even have a few more conversations.  RIP 

"Death leaves a Heartache no one can heal.  Love leaves a memory no one can steal"

From a Headstone in Ireland

Everybody Hurts.  REM

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Emergency Algadones

Were Baaaackk

Lisa started having tooth pain a few weeks ago but until last Friday the problem just didn't worry too much.  She woke up that morning with the entire side of her face swollen and sore.  We thought the problem worrisome enough to see if she could get an emergency visit to a local Dentist.  This, for some problem seemed impossible.  By self diagnosis, she had decided to just request a Dentist pull a back molar and figured that would solve the problem.  Not only could she not get into a Dentist for a few weeks, virtually everybody she talked to told her they would not just pull a tooth upon request.

So we called the Doc in Los Algadones.  He asked when could we get there.  We  left Monday, and by Thursday after about eight hours in a Dentists chair, Lisa had three Root Canals and sported three Crowns.  XRays taken by the Doc showed three infected or impacted teeth.  And though we thought three Crowns along with three Root Canals excessive, he would not budge on the treatment plan.  So 1400 bucks later, Lisa is fixed though swollen.  He squeezed me in for a filling in between.  We learned a few things about the Doc while we were there.  First, though he is a small one man operation that he runs by himself with the help of one English speaking Assistant, he has been garnering a reputation and is becoming more and more popular.  His Office is nowhere near the entrance where the bigger Operators are located.  As Dentists go, he is  very meticulous and thorough.  Another patient who had driven from Phoenix told me.  "He doesn't seem to be just in this for the money". "He does a really good job." After negotiating the price for all the Root Canals and Crowns, and mind you my last root canal in the states was 1100 bucks, I half joking  demanded a free filling .  He said I deserved a  good customer discount and we wound up trading the filling for a Coke.  In spanish, and through and Interpreter he told me this memorable Joke

"Bill Clinton wanted to get Osama Bin Laden before George Bush.  So he left the White House and went to get Bin Laden.  A few days later Clinton called ahead and said I got him. But clear the way cause he's driving the Airplane."

So if you can stand the Corn, I can't tell you how much I am impressed with the work of  Dr Ceballo.  This is our fourth visit.  The Bridge I had a year ago is perfect.  At this point this guy is our Dentist.

Another little item we have solved in our four visits here.  (In all types of situations.  Last time driving from Idaho taking fifteen hours)  This trip we learned the Yuma City Bus will take you there and bring you back for two dollars each way.  Beats the fifty dollar cab ride or the couple of hundred Car rental fees.  Just go to the Best Western or any of the other Motels with shuttles.  Take the Hotel Shuttle to the corner of Gila and 2nd street.  This is the actual terminal but does not look like it.  It is the Del Sol Hotel, (or something like that)  Catch the Blue Line Route 5 and hola, 45 minutes later you are dropped off at the entrance.  He comes back every two hours until 646PM.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Another Note.  Unlike the states when you go to a Dentist for a Root Canal and over a period of two, maybe three visits one is completed.  Mexican Dentists are accomplished in completing a lot of work in a short amount of time.  They do not spare the Novacaine but just the shear volume of work accomplished, well she is still swollen and a little miserable.  

From Johnny Cash

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