Remembering Kathy Ward~

When I was in high school I thought Kathy Ward was very pretty so I asked her out and she said she would go.

Saturday came and as luck would have it, I was having trouble with my car. I worked on it almost all day in frustration trying to get ready for my date. I thought I had it fixed, but the battery was so dead I had to push start it. 1950 was the last year Ford made cars with glass tail lights and that seemingly insignificant fact would have dire consequences for me.

I was pushing my car in the rain down Brookmeade Street, trying to get up enough speed for me to run to the driver's seat and pop the clutch. All of a sudden my hand slipped down the rear fender and I cut it on the taillight. I cut it deeply, all the way to the joint, but I was very lucky. While I laid the meat of the palm on my thumb wide open, I did not cut into the membrane covering my thumb joint. I cut my hand all the way from the tip of my thumb to the wrist. That was bad enough, but in the rain it looked worse. There was blood everywhere. I ran to the house and the front door was locked.

Mom didn't like it too much when we went in and out of the house too often, so to prevent this, she would simply lock us out. This time was even more important to her that we didn't come and go too often as she had some company. If we wanted in, we had to knock... and then we had better have a good reason for coming in (being too hot or too cold, or wanting a drink, was not considered a good reason.)

I knocked and got no answer. Usually when that happened, if it were not too important (like having to go to the bathroom) we would just give up and try again later. This time, however, I wasn't going to stop bleeding any time soon and I was agitated, so when I knocked again I banged on the door.

"What do you want?", Mom yelled when she came to the door. Then her eyes widened when she saw all the blood. 

"Don't come in," she shouted. "You'll get blood on the carpet."

So I waited a little longer, feeling a little less important than the new carpet (we got it as part of the insurance settlement when Hurricane Carla damaged the house. We also got a new roof and sheetrock too.) Mom came back with a towel and told me to wrap it around my hand.

I had been a Boy Scout for over five years and I thought I knew enough to know that just covering up a major gash on an appendage wasn't the thing to do. Hiding the wound with a towel wasn't going to make it go away or make it better. To my surprise, however, it did. I wrapped my hand tightly with the towel and we went to the emergency room.

All the time I was there I kept looking at my watch. I still didn't have my car running and this injury was wasting precious time. Mom finally asked me why I was so anxious about the time and I told her I needed to get ready for my date.

"You’re not going on a date with your hand like that!" Mom said. I told her I was and I wasn't going to let my hand bother me. She asked me how I could drive and I explained I never used my right hand for driving when I was dating anyway.

Finally we reached a compromise. Mom said I could go if she would drive us. At first I objected. I didn't want to be chauffeured like I was in junior high school, but Mom suggested that Kathy and I go to the Village. That way we could eat and take in a movie, and when we were done, Mom would come and get us. That sounded okay to me (as bad as all else seemed to be going). I sure didn't want to miss my date with Kathy, so I was willing to put up with this. I just hoped Kathy didn't think it was too weird.

We (Mom and I) picked Kathy up at twilight and Mom and Kathy both made my situation as pleasant as it could possibly be under the circumstances. Mom dropped us off and we had time to walk around and talk a little before the movie started. This was turning out well.

I can't remember what we saw, but after the movie we went to the One's-A-Meal just down University Blvd. All the buildings that housed those places are gone now as time marches on. I guess we had hamburgers but I all I remember is I was enjoying the company. Kathy looked great and was very pleasant to talk to. We sat and talked long after we finished eating but too soon it was getting time to get her home.

The problem was that there were four guys in the back booth by the telephone. I waited for a while, hoping they would leave, but the hour was getting desperately late and it was becoming obvious that these guys weren't leaving soon. So I had to make the call in the midst of them. It wasn't pleasant.

"Mom, you can come get us now," I said as softly as I could, but it wasn't soft enough.

"Mom, you can come get us now!” one of them mocked, and the rest broke out in exaggerated laughter. It was as bad as I imagined it might be - for a couple of seconds.

Then Kathy rose from the booth and came back to the phone, took me by the arm, and looked at me admiringly. I walked back to our booth feeling like a king! Yep, these guys could laugh all they wanted, but they were alone on a Saturday night and I had a class act at my side. I will always appreciate Kathy for what she did. She turned what could have been one of life's more embarrassing moments into one of my most memorable.

Dick Dowling

Richard William (Dick) Dowling was born in Knockballyvisteal, Milltown, near Tuam (pronounced Too-am), Country Galway, Ireland in 1838, the second of eight children, born to Patrick and Bridget Qualter Dowling. He emigrated with his parents and six siblings to New Orleanss in the United States in 1846.In 1853, a yellow fever outbreak in New Orleans took the lives of his parents and four of his siblings. Orphaned, Dowling settled in Houston where he established a successful chain of saloons starting in 1857. Dowling was described as a likable red-headed Irishman and wore a large mustache.

By 1860, Dowling owned three saloons. His most successful saloon was named the Bank of Bacchus, located on Courthouse Square in downtown Houston. "The Bank" as it was known locally became Houston's most popular social gathering place in the 1860s and was renowned for its hospitality. Dowling had previous experience as a barkeeper in the Continental Coffeehouse in New Orleans and in Houston opened a saloon known as "The Shades". Quickly establishing himself, Dowling courted publicity from local newspapers and also made a number of property investments. He was also involved in setting up Houston's first gaslight company, and was first to have it installed in his home and "The Bank". Dowling was a founding member of Houston's Hook and Ladder Company Number One fire department and was also involved in running the city's first streetcar compan^y.

At the outbreak of the Civil War Dowling enlisted in a Texas unit composed primarily of Irish dockworkers and known as the Jefferson Davis Guards. He participated in the Battle of Galveston and in 1863 now-Lieutenant Dowling along with a company of 44 men, almost all Irish, known as the Davis guards, was assigned to an earthen artillery post on the Sabine River named Fort Griffin. Known for his skilled artillery work, Dowling spent his time at the remote outpost instructing his men in artillery targeting drills across the Sabine River's two channels, which the fort guarded. He implemented an innovative idea, placing colored poles in the river marking the distance and elevation for his artillery crews.

On September 8, 1863 a Union navy flotilla of 5,000 men attempted to enter the channel. Dowling's artillery drills paid off as the Confederates scored several direct hits on the flotilla, forcing its retreat and leading to the capture of 350 prisoners and a large quantity of supplies, thwarting a Union invasion of Texas.

The 1992 Campaign

As we rush headlong into the summer of 2012 and find ourselves deep into the mud and mire that it will undeniably bring along with it, I am reminded of the 1992 campaign between William Jefferson Clinton and George Herbert Walker Bush. As hard as it is to comprehend, that was twenty tears ago so I realize there may be some who do not remember it well.

My son worked in helping carry off the Republican Convention in Houston. It preceded the Democratic Convention and that would play right into their (the Democrats') hands.

As the convention unfolded, Leftists of every special interest flocked to Houston to to protest and become part of the pageant, and the media was more than happy to accommodate them. Instead of focusing on what was actually happening among united Republicans in the convention, the media highlighted the intentionally created disruptive circus outside and commented that this convention was in turmoil and disarray (which it was not).

I didn't worry too much about it. The media had tried this tactic before with minimal success. But this time I should have worried.

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On the other hand, the convention that was truly in disarray was about to be steered by the capable albeit threatening hands of people like James Carville and Dick Morris. They took the bitter losing Democratic candidates into back rooms and warned them that, because of the huge surprising success of Ross Perot's third party campaign, Clinton had a better than even chance of winning. Because of that, the losing candidates had better hush and present a unified front on the campaign floor or they could kiss good-bye to any future they might hope for in the Democratic Party.

Now the DNC coordinated and orchestrated media presented a picture of unified sweetness and light. There were no protests. Bill and Hillary were so totally in love and this was going to be Camelot all over again, just like it was with JFK and Jackie.

As I think about that now, I have to smile. This time, in many ways, they were right. It was exactly like the Camelot JFK and Jackie had, and just as fictional.

But this time the media's spaghetti stuck to the wall, and Bill Clinton was elected with a plurality of the votes.

The Gods of the Copybook Headings

In a recent program Glenn Beck made me aware of a poem I had forgotten since I studied it in high school. That is probably because when I was in high school I was blissfully unaware of the world at large. I had too many trivial things in mind.

I really became aware of the genius of Rudyard Kipling due to another poem, "Recessional" that subsequently put into a hymn, "God of our Fathers, Whose Almighty Hand".

Recessional was one of those poems written for Queen Victoria's jubilee. It was a stunner, because after all that was written celebrating her reign and the grandeur of the British Empire at that moment, Kipling reminds the people that their seemingly unconquerable realm was "one with Nineveh and Tyre".

Now, on re-examining Rudyard's other poem it strikes me that it could be retitled "The Spin Doctors" and people would understand better what it is saying.

Check it out, and see if I actually know what I am talking about.

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The Gods of the Copybook Headings

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AS I PASS through my incarnations in every age and race,
I make my proper prostrations to the Gods of the Market Place.
Peering through reverent fingers I watch them flourish and fall,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings, I notice, outlast them all.

We were living in trees when they met us. They showed us each in turn
That Water would certainly wet us, as Fire would certainly burn:
But we found them lacking in Uplift, Vision and Breadth of Mind,
So we left them to teach the Gorillas while we followed the March of Mankind.

We moved as the Spirit listed. They never altered their pace,
Being neither cloud nor wind-borne like the Gods of the Market Place,
But they always caught up with our progress, and presently word would come
That a tribe had been wiped off its icefield, or the lights had gone out in Rome.

With the Hopes that our World is built on they were utterly out of touch,
They denied that the Moon was Stilton; they denied she was even Dutch;
They denied that Wishes were Horses; they denied that a Pig had Wings;
So we worshipped the Gods of the Market Who promised these beautiful things.

When the Cambrian measures were forming, They promised perpetual peace.
They swore, if we gave them our weapons, that the wars of the tribes would cease.
But when we disarmed They sold us and delivered us bound to our foe,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "Stick to the Devil you know."

On the first Feminian Sandstones we were promised the Fuller Life
(Which started by loving our neighbour and ended by loving his wife)
Till our women had no more children and the men lost reason and faith,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "The Wages of Sin is Death."

In the Carboniferous Epoch we were promised abundance for all,
By robbing selected Peter to pay for collective Paul;
But, though we had plenty of money, there was nothing our money could buy,
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings said: "If you don't work you die."

Then the Gods of the Market tumbled, and their smooth-tongued wizards withdrew
And the hearts of the meanest were humbled and began to believe it was true
That All is not Gold that Glitters, and Two and Two make Four
And the Gods of the Copybook Headings limped up to explain it once more.

As it will be in the future, it was at the birth of Man
There are only four things certain since Social Progress began.
That the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool's bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;

And that after this is accomplished, and the brave new world begins
When all men are paid for existing and no man must pay for his sins,
As surely as Water will wet us, as surely as Fire will burn,
The Gods of the Copybook Headings with terror and slaughter return!

Our Amazing World

When I was a little boy all we had were 78 rpm records (monaural and one song per side). I remember when the 45s came out and we were amazed.

Now I have 2000 songs (the 26 minute long Beethoven's 6th being one of them) stored on a microchip in my cell phone with room for more than twice that. They are on a memory card the size of my little finger nail - INCREDIBLE!!!!!

 

 The memory card is the small one.

It needs an adaptor to fit in most devices

(or to keep from getting lost)

In Harm's Way

An oft used phrase and the title of a great John Wayne Movie about the Navy in World War II. The original comes from a famous naval hero of the American Revolution.

I wish to have no connection with any ship that does not sail fast; for I intend to go in harm's way.... John Paul Jones

Guy Clark - Texas Songwriter

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pNmnzwGT4Ic

Guy Clark songs touch my soul like few others. He hits either a nostalgic nerve or one that rings of true philosophy. "Texas 1947", "L.A. Freeway", "A Nickel for the Fiddler", "Virginia's Reel", and "Stuff That Works" are just a few examples.

Some of his songs have wonderful lines.

"This living on the edge of the waters of the world,
Demands the dignity of whooping cranes and the likes of Gilbert Roland.".... South Coast of Texas

Colman's mama said, "Somebody's gotta do it!"
"There wouldn't be no Kentucky if you didn't stick to it." ....New Cut Road

Below are the lyrics of one of his newest. The word hearken back to an earlier time in my life.

SOUTH TEXAS GIRL

Written by Guy Clark
Performed by Lyle Lovett

We're three in the front seat and they sat on each side.
That green-and-white '58 Fairlane would glide,
Down farm roads past open fields, seeming like no big deal,
As it was happening. I never felt a thing.

But now looking back, it seems like it was everything.
Singing with mom just so we could hear ourselves sing.
Stealing a drink from the cold can in daddy's lap,
Protected by only a small thin brown paper sack.

And the wind blew the echoes of long-faded voices,
And they'd sing me a song that the old cowboys sang.
And I didn't know what the words meant or anything.
I was just singing because I was supposed to.

Saint Mother Maria, watch over us please,
As we wonder around in this dangerous world.
Thank Mother Maria, there's nothing so sweet,
As the undying love of a South Texas girl.

And with the windows wide open, it felt hot to us anyway.
Three bound together on a day just like any day.
They told me and taught me, and showed me and bought me,
Whatever I wanted from the corner U-tote-M.

They said the name Corpus Christi means the body of Jesus.
Pronounce it Ref-fury-oh 'cause city folks they don't know.
It looks like Palacios but sounds like Pah-lashus.
Just listen the next time you're watchin' Sid Lasher.

And the wind blew the echoes of long-faded voices,
And they would sing me a song that the old cowboys sang.
And I didn't know what the words meant or anything.
I was just singing.

Saint Mother Maria, watch over us please,
As we wonder around in this dangerous world.
Thank Mother Maria, there's nothing so sweet,
As the undying love of a South Texas girl.

And I didn't know what the words meant or anything.
I was just singing.

And these days with car seats and open container laws,
Social correctness leaves no room for Santa Claus.
Sitting right next to me, she looks like that "used to be"
Song that they sang for me.

And with the windows wide open it feels hot to us anyway,
Two bound together on a day just like any day.

And the wind blows the echoes of long-faded voices,
And they sing us a song that the old cowboys sang.
And now that I know what the words mean and everything,
I am still singing.

Saint Mother Maria, watch over us please,
As we wonder around in this dangerous world.
Thank Mother Maria, there's nothing so sweet,
As the undying love of a South Texas girl.

Saint Mother Maria, watch over us please,
As we stumble around in this dangerous world.
Thank Mother Maria, there's nothing so sweet,
As the undying love of a South Texas girl.

As the undying love of a South Texas girl.