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BBQ and the Fourth of July-Happy Father's Day

2009-06-21T18:10:00.002-05:00

One day in May or June during the sixties my dad brought home a 50 gallon drum that had been cut in half. The next Saturday we sat on the front porch just outside the carport with a host of screws, washers, nuts, and two hinges. That day I learned how to screw –how to hold the screw steady with a screw driver and turn the nut with a wrench or vice versa, whichever was easier, failure to work the two in tandem resulted in a lot of twisting and no tightening.

We hinged one part of that cut drum to the other in such a way that it opened liked a BBQ pit. We cut a little door on one end and fashioned a latch. This would serve as a damper. We then took some metal duct work and formed a stove pipe that we bolted to the top half. We found a can left over from supper and used as a damper. We fashioned a handle out of something I don’t remember. Perhaps it was wood or a piece of metal pipe or Ila Jane’s old baton. Either one would serve to lift the lid. We used the grates from and old frig for the grill. We fashioned a metal support to the bottom half in the front and the backside of the barrel to support the grill.

We attached the whole barrel to some sort of support that my dad had saved from the garbage man. I do not recall the support, but the BBQ barrel I recall quite well. I have seen similar BBQ contraptions all through the south and even in Gary.

On the Fourth of July that summer we invited the whole neighborhood over for a party. That homemade BBQ was filled with Royal Oak –the only kind of charcoal the old man would use. (I’m a Kingsford man myself unless I find Royal Oak then I’m tempted to switch).

My dad would use the door on the side opposite the stove pipe and the tin can on top to control the temperature of coals. On the grill he placed halves of chicken. As the chickens cooked he would baste them with his on special sauce. A sauce made with ketchup, mustard, tarragon vinegar and a quarter cup of whiskey added after the sauce boiled.

The chickens took some time so in the interim the kids were able to shoot off firecrackers. Mostly red fingers –not very powerful- but a few black cats if you were good. My dad kept the firecrackers in a coffee can and us kids had to go to him to get our supply. We had strict instructions to place the fire crackers on a brick or something else. Light them and run away. It was permissible to twist several firecrackers together and place them under a Maxwell House coffee can and see how high it would go. I put one in my mom’s gourd bird house and guess what…. It blew the bird house up.

We lived in the city limits of Little Rock and it was against the law to shoot off fireworks. So before the chickens were done we had a little visit from the Little Rock Police. They instructed us that we could not shoot off fireworks. All of us kids felt like we were in trouble and we better eat and go home quick. The policeman eventually wished us a happy fourth and left the backyard. He got in his car and turned around in the cul-de-sac then headed up the hill. As he headed up the hill my dad dropped his cigarette in the coffee can and all hell broke loose. The adults were jumping up and knocking over their lawn chairs and running for cover! The kids were scattering and swearing that the cops would be back. I am certain that was accident rather than an act of defiance. One thing’s for sure that chicken sure was good and my mom was more irritated at my dad than at me for blowing up her gourd.

Happy Father’s Day, Joe.

Johnny Cash; Dyess, Arkansas and Grandma's Guest Room

2009-06-03T20:23:00.003-05:00

Recently our paper ran an article on a Sunday about the Legacy of Johnny Cash and a town's future. That town would be Dyess, Arkansas. I read the article and immediately turned to my book, Cash by the editors of Rolling Stone to compare the stories. Then I tried to reconcile the facts with tales of my grandma and my dad about how Johnny Cash grew up in Kingsland, Arkansas and slept in the guest room of the house in Rison.

The Rolling Stone book says, Johnny Cash remembered the first house he lived in which was near Kingsland, Arkansas. He was just a boy back then.

I have been to Kingsland and I was just boy then too. It was a little town at the end of gravel road we took south out of the bottoms near Bob and Neely's. That would be the Saline River bottoms. There were a few houses or shacks might be a better word. I think I even saw something that looked like a high school. Okay, it was the sixties and it was Arkansas so anything out of brick with more than one story, a patch of grass and goal posts would pass for a high school!

I pictured that was where Johnny Cash went to school and he probably came to Rison on Friday night for football. Afterwards he and the boys from Kingsland probably got in a fight with my dad and the Rison Tigers. Afterwards, Johnny Cash stayed the night in Grandma's guest room lickin his wounds from the lickin he took.

Well I don't think it happened that way and then again it may not have happened at all.

The paper said Dyess was a town developed by the Federal Emergency Relief Administration which farmers like the Cashes who were ruined by the Depression could resettle on land the government had bought. You could buy twenty acres of land with no money down, and a house, a barn and they would give you a mule and a cow. They would even furnish groceries through the first year. When your crop came in you could pay it back. The paper referred to it as a socialistic experiment.

Johnny Cash's brother died there after an accident in the community saw mill. Johnny went fishing on that day and his daddy never forgot it. Johnny Cash graduated from high school there in Dyess. (Guess that blows that childhood fantasy.) Johnny left Dyess to join the air force and eventually fell in love with June Carter, greatest love story told 'cept me and gawilli!

In the Rolling Stone book it says that Cash remembers it took them two days to travel the gravel roads from Kingsland to Dyess. That would be from southeast Arkansas to northeast Arkansas. They had to stop overnight by the roadside in the truck the government had sent for them. I bet that was when Johnny Cash slept in my grandma's guest room. I bet she and JW seen 'em on the side of the road and said, "Why don't ya'll come to our house over here to Rison where you'll be more comfortable."

Oh well, may be not. Knowing my family they probably just made that story up because they knew that had a gullible grandson. But if that ain't a great spin on the story you can always settle for the greatness of the tale of socialism in America. You know that dirty little thang that saved us from the Depression and the Dust Bowl that latter came to be something that would keep you from teaching school in Indiana, but that's another story!

-willi

Security

2009-05-21T20:42:00.010-05:00

It’s been eight years since 911 and more since Columbine. I hear that the security folks want to check around and make sure we ain’t forgot. I remember how we all rallied and set up procedures, locked the front door to the school house and buzzed everyone in. Recently I was in an urban area in another state where they had assessed the risk differently –their school house front doors were open ALL DAY! And this location was not far from one of our foreign borders, the liberal one to be exact.

Dick Cheney was on the news today testifying to the merits of water boarding, and what not, about how it kept us safe. Because you know every purported threat was deterred. And there is no compromise to terrorism.

Now Dick and Homeland may be correct, but three years ago was the last time I flew. I did not feel any safer then than I did in 1978 when I could smoke in the cabin and no one checked my backpack for the Coleman fuel I was transporting for my hiking stove.

I don’t fly any more. Mostly because I don’t have the patience to ride an hour in the traffic only to wait an hour for the plane –sitting on the runway, then only to wait another hour on the runway upon landing and an hour to get the luggage. All for a two hour flight to a location that I could have driven to in ten. Not to mention all the scenery I would see and the possible stay over night in a motel with a “cement pond”, damn!

The other reason I don’t fly is I can’t seem to get my cowboy boots off and on without missing the flight.

My point is not to take a side on the issue because I like being safe, but it is to recall a conversation many years before, one that occurred in 1977 and feuded by PBR and prediction. Yep, my engineering buddy, that would civil engineering buddy. They called me the construction paper engineering buddy since I was an elementary education major. He stated that Americans would gladly elect the first dictator if that dictator kept them safe.

The first test of this premise that I recall was the seat belt law. Mind you I have never driven a vehicle without wearing a seat belt. It always made since to me, especially when I was riding in Mr. Tenney’s open air jeep. I mean one fast turn and your were rolling out that baby.!

They said that not wearing a seat belt would cause our insurance claims to go up. So we passed this law cuz it made sense. My car insurance rate has not gone down, has yours? Instead the police have this click or ticket program that seems to be a good reason to pull people over and see what else is going on.

As stated before, I really don’t want to take a side on this, but it does sometimes to go too far. I mean it is out of control when you take a boot jack away from an 80 year old man trying to go through security at the airport.! For gawd sakes he knew he would have to take his cowboy boots off. He was just trying to do so with a little ease and comfort.

Fishin Dawg

2009-05-10T09:44:00.004-05:00

Friday night we were invited to a friend's house on a lake just outside of town. Beautiful setting and a wonderful evening. Their were three dogs there, two black labs and a short legged, barreled belly "little dog". One of the labs was in the water and when the other lab tried to get in the water the "little dog" would run at him and bark. I think he was the life guard, "one dog in the water at a time!"

One of the labs, I'll just call him the black lab, kept running parallel to the shore. He was looking down in the water as he ran. He was running and looking with real intent. Apparently he was fishing. Imagine that! A fishing dog. He would run over to one dock, then turn and run past his dock to the next dock. All the while looking down for fish.

I think his strategy was to spot the fish and run at them. Of course I'm sure the fish could hear him coming and scattered like school letting out. Maybe this dog should spend a weekend on the shore watching the Herons. He might learn to walk the water quietly and wait for the fish to come to him. He might even learn to pick up a feather or piece of cloth and drop it on the water to attract the fish. But then he is just a dog and I am sure it is not his nature to go after what he wants without running for it. Besides, anything a dog picks up with his mouth usually ends up coming out the back end. He was a cool dog all the same and a real hoot to watch!

Derby Day

2009-05-02T08:54:00.003-05:00

It is the day of the oldest sporting event, the greatest few minutes in sports, the Kentucky Derby!

I love this day! I was up at 7:00 putting ribs on the smoker and reading the Briefing Book on the Courier Journal, one of the remaining fine newspapers in the USofA. I must add a disclaimer. I have never been to the horse races, nor have I bet on a horse race. I have ridden horses before (see Where's Willi at Back in the Day) and I have done chores on an Arabian horse farm. As for wagering I've shot craps with my dad on the living room floor and worked a week of chores paying my debts -saved by my mom and I've done my citizenship duty of pulling the one arm bandit to support the kids in school. But horse racing is in my blood from when I was a kid.

Picture this: An eight year old boy sitting on the front porch playing with betting cards -win, place, and show and pretending to call a horse race. All of this while waiting for his dad to pull into the driveway returning from Oaklawn Racetrack.

So I follow the Triple Crown races on the television because I inherited the sport -so to speak. The Kentucky Derby is the king of them all. I plan my day around it and match my meal to it. So today it is smoked, dry rubbed ribs. I pick out a big classy cigar and fire that baby up before the race. I sit anxiously by waiting for the trumpet call. Then just before the bell I raise a shot glass of whiskey and salute my dear old dad and cheer for my horse.

My picks are: Dunkirk - he is a gray, he's a Todd Pletcher horse. Friesan Fire - won the Arkansas Derby, a Larry Jones from Hopkinsville Kentucky horse. And my long shot is General Quarters -a horse that may be good on mud, a one man show by a former Louisville biology teacher and high school principal. Wished I could retire like that!

What are your picks?

I'll meet you at the sound of the bell, Dad.....

Reintroduction

2009-05-02T08:50:00.002-05:00

Reintroduction:
Am I back??? Who knows? This blog thang got to be big combined with work so I blew it off. Now I have discovered this Facebook deal -got in to it so I could see pictures of family and friends. You can link to your blog (gawilli will show me this later). So I gonna give this a go again. No committments, I have too many of those.

Boyhood stories

2007-11-18T20:03:00.000-06:00

Over at Back in the Day gawilli is posting about childhood stories. It set me to thinking about some of my own childhood stories. They might be described as legends but, most likely they are just lies told by old men in front of impressionable boys.

I grew up hunting in the Saline River bottoms of south central Arkansas. Bob and Nelly lived some ten miles off the nearest gravel road smack in the center of the bottoms. Their house sat on stumps that were at least five feet tall. It was a two room shack with screend porches stretching the length of both sides. Bob raised hogs sort of free range style -the hogs wandered through the bottoms and Bob had "corrals" in various spot that he would use to butcher them. Nelly raised turkeys. I would crawl under the house in play in the sandy dirt -watching for snake and being careful that not turkey scratched just as Miss Nelly warned me.

The land was owned by Paul Finkbiner of the Capital Pride meat packing company. Bob and Nelly lived there in exchange for hosting Paul's deer hunting club of which my dad was a member. We went to Bob and Nelly's most weekends. Sometimes we had to hike in because the road was too muddy to pass without four wheel drive.

Of the childhood stories to tell many of them blend together. There was the "legend" of injun joe who wander off into the bottoms and never came back. Most likely he died in the bottoms from too many mosquito bites and exposure. But as a kid hunting in those bottoms alone I always wondered if I would come across him.

There was also a tale my dad and the hunters loved to tell about 'coon huntin. Bob and Paul and Auto, his brother along with Ed Salter and my dad were out 'coon huntin one night. They hunted with a dog that had run off and left them in the dark. They wondered around aimlessly trying to find their way. Finally, Paul or at least I think it was him, claimed they wuz walkin in circles.....

He took his bandana off and laid at a the base of tree. They all proceeded in the direction thay had chosen only to come across Paul's bandana at the base of that tree! Sure enough they had been walking in circles.

Those times were fun. We would always end our hunts at the pipeline which was where the gravel road ended. The pipeline was a cut through the woods where a natural gas line was laid from Louisana (I think). The pipleline was a major benchmark for wondering the bottoms as was the whiteline. The whiteline was were the Union Pacific Paper company had gone through the bottoms painting the trees with white paint. They used that to delineate where they were going to cut trees that would be trucked to the Pinebluff paper mill.

Our hunts end with a ritual. We would all gather in a circle men and boys. We would throw a dollar each in the middle. My dad would take out his dice and we would shoot craps for the pot. The men would pass a bottle of whiskey -Old Taylor to be exact. Each would take a snort and then we would head for home.

-willi

Baseball in the 21st Century

2007-10-04T20:46:00.000-05:00

Last night was the first game of the National League baseball playoff. The Cubs were playing the Diamond Backs. That would be the Diamond Backs of the Mountain Time Zone. Of course the game started at a reasonable time for people to get off work and have dinner before the game if they lived in Arizona. If you were a Cub fan in Chicago the game did not start until 9:00. Now if you are an old fart like myself that is 30 minutes before your bedtime -I made it through the third inning!

This baseball thing sucks now-a-days. There should be a National start time for the playoffs. One that is carefully calculated to ensure that all Americans would be awake to see at least the last three innings.

To make matters worse when I read the newspaper this morning it said the game ended too late for press time. I had to log on to the internet to see the score before going to work. Now I am okay with change and the internet (I used to have blog that I posted on regularly), but it ain't baseball if you don't read about it in the paper.

Finally, to really frost ya! The game is broadcast on TBS, a cable channel. If you don't have cable or satellite T.V. you can't even see America's past time! Gawilli tells me that everyone has one or the other, but there was a time -and probably this is the case some where, maybe a nursing home in Wyoming- when people only had the networks. That would be the free networks that arrived in the comfort of your home via the airwaves.

Gone is network T.V. broadcasting the baseball playoffs. I think I know why. Ever since they banned cigarette commercials and product testing like those ladies dipping their hands in the Palmolive soap at the beauty salon the networks can't compete. They have moved on to advertising those drugs that we can only ask our doctors to buy. So why should a regular company pay for big advertising on the networks. I think only the rich doctors watch those shows. Funny I remember when even the doctors were baseball fans.

-jswilli

Rubbers for my Cowboy Boots

2007-05-10T20:21:00.000-05:00

Ever since I was a kid I loved the west and cowboys. I always had boots. Why my dad took me to Shoe City for some Easter shoes and we came home with a pair of red cowboy boots. It sent my mom into a tail spin, but she spun out of it.

I wear cowboy boots everyday. I don't even own a pair of shoes, except for gym shoes. In the winter with the snow and ice and all the salt it presents a problem. The leather soles of the Noconas soak through and your feet can be uncomfortable. I usually wear a pair of rubber shoes or boots and change when I get to work.

On the way back from a work trip I stopped at a western store in Warsaw, Indiana. Along with some boot and hat care chemicals I bought a pair of rubbers for my cowboy boots. I got that winter thing licked now!

The whole experience set me to thinking.... When I was in school we learned to read with the Ginn Reading series featuring Tom, Dick and Jane. Oh yea, and Spot, the dog. I was not the best of the readers. I think it was because I couldn't relate to Tom, Dick and Jane. I mean their families were so "white bread" compared to mine. I even remember reading about Tom, Dick and Jane putting their rubbers on. I had to ask Ila Jane about it. She said they put them on their shoes so they wouldn't get wet. I wondered why they just didn't wear their hunting boots to school like I did.

The whole "rubbers for my cowboy boots" experience set me to thinking:

1962 I went to school

Tom, Dick and Jane

was the rule.

Reading was a struggle

Them Ginn kids weren't the same as me.

They had a spotted dog

I had a blue tick hound,

The neighbor a black and tan

with a gold tooth.

Them Ginn kids weren't the same.

Their Daddy worked,

Their momma stayed at home.

Both my parents worked.

Weren't nothing in the book

about paying bills.

Them Ginn kids weren't the same.

They worried about their

rubbers when it rained,

Ila Jane had to explain.

They put them on their shoes - boy!

Them Ginn kids weren't the same.

They played games and

They played nice.

I played dominos, learned my math facts fast.

"Play Damn it!" Grand Dad said.

Them Ginn kids weren't the same.

I seen Dick and I seen Jane,

Run Spot run,

but it ain't the same.

Cowboys and Injuns,

The Blue and the Gray,

Crafts and engines

I did learn to read

when I had the need.

B.S.E., M.S.E. and a whole lot more

without them Ginn Kids

I did a whole lot more.

Fifty years later,

I get it now.

Got that rubber thing down.

Even got 'em for my cowboy boots!

-Willi

Derby Day

2007-05-05T12:10:00.000-05:00

"Well they fell in love in holding tank

The first Friday in May.

It was their first offense so they got out in time

To whoop it up on Derby Day."

-Tim Krekel

Folks it is the first Saturday in May and that means it is Derby Day! One of the greatest sporting events around and cultural happening. Or at least as far as I am concerned.

I am not one of those who bets the horse. I have not even been to a track. But I grew up with horseracing in my family. My dad would go to Oaklawn race track every Saturday during racing season. I would sit on the from porch and play games with the betting cards. Why sometimes I even called a race in my imagination. Win, place, or show! I was into it cuz my daddy was.

Derby Day is an event for gawilli and I. We watch the Derby and follow the winner through all the Triple Crown races. We even make crab cakes when they run the Preakness.

We woke up this morning and check all the contenders on the Kentucky Derby web site. I usually favor the winner of the Arkansas Derby. This year that would be Curlin who not only won the Arkansas Derby but the Rebel as well. He is the Derby favorite. Hard Spun and Street Sense I like too. Hard Spun has run well in the mud and it's likely to be muddy. I also like NoBiz Like ShoBiz and Tiago primarily because I saw them run in the Wood Memorial and the Santa Anita, on tv or course.

My Dad always like the gray horses and so does gawilli. She also likes the ones that have a heart gripping story. For gawilli it is Storm in May. She says the horse runs well on a wet track, finished second in the Arkansas Derby (no match for Curlin) and is blind in one eye. There's the story. Read all about this gray, one eyed, second place Arkansas Derby finisher that runs well on a wet track over at Back in the Day.

The other thing about Derby Day that I like is that I always remember my dad and those cultural things he shared. So come post time when they blow the horns I be in front of my tv with cowboy hat on smoking a big cigar. I raize my annual shot of whiskey and salute the horses and my dad.

Hope you enjoy the Kentucky Derby as much as gawilli and I.

--willi

Gun Control, Gun Elimination, and 60 Minutes

2007-04-30T21:10:00.000-05:00

On Sunday night I was watching Sixty Minutes when they were doing a report on gun control. This topic has been popular as of late because of the Virginia Tech tragedy. I've read editorials about gun control and letters to the editor about gun elimination. I have also read a few opinions that the Virginia Tech tragedy was more about mental health than gun control. Over at Thinking About the debate about mental health and gun control or gun elimination got quite heated.

For me I could understand both sides. The tragedy did seem to have a lot to do with the status of mental health care in our country. Of course when I heard someone say that "weirdos" should be kicked off campus I did get a little panicked. Only because I reckon on any given day I might be declared a "weirdo" by some!

The gun control side of the debate I could also relate to. Not that I believe that owning guns is a bad thing. I grew up in a hunting family in south Arkansas. That meant deer huntin' -guns, dawgs, dice and whiskey-pretty much in that order. The dice and whiskey came at the end of the hunt when we would stand in a circle throw some dollars in the middle, shoot craps and the men would have a "snort". I must confess in all of my hunting days I saw a wide variety of guns, but never did anyone find the need to use a fully automatic assault weapon!

The gun control that appeals to me is that which seeks to limit hand guns. Hand guns seem to be for killing. Or as some would say protection, which equates to killing before you get killed.

While gun elimination seems like a peaceable thing to do I would have some worries. Without people going out with their shotguns to shoot clay pigeons I am certain that our world would be so overpopulated with clay pigeons that it would somehow throw off the ecology!

I have always thought that the right to bare arms had more to do with making sure that people could "flip the bird" to the government, only if the government got too big for its breeches. Now days our sporting guns have very little power when it comes to this sort of civil liberty. That power has been replaced by our Dells, HP, IBMs, and even Apples.

Sixty Minutes on the other hand seem to be right on target. Apparently the Brady Bill, which is law, contains provisions that prevent the mentally ill from purchasing guns. However, without funding to back it up many states do not report to the federal database used for background checks. Beefing up the Brady Bill to ensure such reporting is opposed by some, but not the NRA. A spokesperson for the NRA said no mentally ill person should be allowed to purchase guns. The opposition comes from a mental health association that seeks to protect the privacy of those who have received treatment for mental illness.

This whole thing lit me up! We have a law that actually does much of what needs to be done to protect us from tragedies like Virginia Tech. The law is ineffective because it does not get fully funded and no penalities are provided for nonreporting. Then factor in that the opposition to such a gun control law is coming from a sector that is not the NRA!

Just goes to show you, living safely in the goodle USA is a crap shoot.

-willi

In God We Trust - The License Plate

2007-04-01T17:36:00.000-05:00

Indiana has always offered alternate license plates. They did this long before other states because they held a competition for license plates that often resulted in a "butt ugly" plate. So people always chose something different when given the opportunity. Consider these:

When the "Wander Indiana" plate was issued the environmental plate became popular. Twenty five dollars goes to support the Indiana Heritage Trust dedicated to securing more lands for conservation, recreation and preservation purposes-like state parks and such. Fifteen dollars goes to administrative fees. So for forty bucks you can adorn your vehicle with this beauty instead of one of the "butt uglies".

Soon after, the "Kids First" plate became equally popular. Twenty five dollars goes to the Indiana Kids Trust fund towards programs for the prevention of child abuse and neglect. Not only is it a worthy cause, but the plate is cool as can be!

This was followed in popularity by the "Education" plate with a cute picture of Garfield. Jim Davis, the Garfield creator, is a Hoosier. The proceeds of this plate go to school corporations, as us Hoosiers call our school districts. The money is to be used to recognize students. Both the "Kids First" and the "Education" plate carry a fifteen dollar administrative fee.

You can even get a plate to support your college. Of course you must pay the fifteen dollar administrative fee. Here are a few notable ones.

This is our current plate, known as the "regular" plate.

Last year the state came up with an alternate plate, the "In God We Trust" plate. Perhaps it was as a result of the controversy over the prayer said before the General Assembly begins work for the day. Someone sued that it endorsed religion. The Speaker of the House continued to recognize God and "in the name of our Savior" during the debate of the law suit. But they won and I think now the Speaker has to be a little more politically correct. Why I even think he had a rabbi say a prayer this year. Here is the "In God We Trust" plate.

Interesting enough there is no administrative fee for this plate, nor do the proceeds go to any cause. This year because of Rep. Woody Burton of Greenville you may have this plate for free! It is your choice. You can get a sticker for the "regular" green plate or you can have this red, white, and blue beauty for free. Yep! The taxpayers are footing the bill at the cost of $3.89 a plate for a total of $1 million dollars towards road upkeep lost. That's right, free plate and crummy roads!

This is Indiana and if we are going to charge fifteen dollars administrative fees for donating twenty-five dollars to a Hoosier tradition like the one to the right, why would give a break to Francis Scott Key? (The phrase "In God We Trust" started with his last verse of "The Star Spangled Banner" before it was hammered into our coins.)

Of course some people are preferring the plate below this year. The proceeds go to supporting the Indiana Stadium and Convention Building Authority (ISCBA) to help defray the costs of the Lucas Oil Stadium and Convention Center expansion project.
I like the Colts plate myself. But, I would prefer a different look for it. It should be a blue plate with a white Colts helmet. The blue horseshoe should be prominent. Instead of "Go Colts" it should say:

"In Peyton We Trust"

-willi

Boats to Build

2007-03-04T18:52:00.000-06:00

Over the holidays gawilli and I went by to see Mjd and Daddy D, sing a little carol, and drop off some Peanut Brittle. That's it. In fact the caroling part was pretty spur of the moment. Much to my surprise, they asked us to step inside for just a second to gift us with the beautiful creation you see below made by Daddy D.

Daddy D thought it quite appropriate for someone who had a blog entitled Boats to Build. Of course he knew the meaning behind the name, and it was a metaphor he found fitting for many other causes.

When I was a kid or a least a younger kid than I am now, I marveled at the idea of a ship in a bottle. Like, who could make one of these and how could they do it? Well, now I know someone who can make one and I do believe he has more patience to build his boat than I.

According to Daddy D, no one knows who first put a ship in a bottle. The craft maybe no older than a couple of hundred years; the article I read said some time in the 1830's when bottle glass became clear instead of the dark and opaque. Daddy D explains it this way:

"Sailors may have gotten the idea in the Orient, where they would see intricate carving of pagodas in bottles. Sailors may have made some extra money selling their SIBs after time at sea.

I however, got it from a book by Donald Hubbard, " Ships-In-Bottles" in 1971. That book gives plans that are the right size as they are printed. The one that you have is of the kind that sailed in the mid-1800s. It is a Gloucester Schooner. The ship's job was to fish and then race back to port before others to obtain the best prices for their catch. It was a fast and seaworthy vessel. A ship of that type is the Bluenose. The Canadian ten cent piece shows such a ship. The real ships were probably not with a red hull. I did that for contrast with the dark blue sea of putty. That was just an art choice thing."

He's very artsy gentleman, precise and always pays attention to detail. This says nothing about his ability to put a scientific spin on almost anything. Makes me scratch my head in wonderment!

Daddy D said he thought of making and selling these. He made some inquiries and found the market was not there because so many were made overseas on the cheap. Probably a sweat shop full of very little people who climb in the bottles with glue guns.

Gawilli and I are honored to have such a gem. I am quite honored to have it connected with the name of my blog the way Daddy D has.

I'm gonna build me a boat

with these two hands

it'll be a fair curve from a noble plan

let the chips fall where they will

cause I've got boats to build

Thanks Daddy D. -willi

The Willi Mocha Latte

2007-02-25T18:00:00.000-06:00

Note: Willi recommends listening to the Kate Campbell featured song, New South (see side bar) while reading this entry.

The willi latte had its origin from a Krups espresso maker that had sat dormant in the cupboard from the beginning of the union known as jsgawilli. During the Christmas Holidays I set a goal to learn how this coffee maker worked.

Perhaps it was a competitive thing or one that resulted from teasing. You see they opened a Starbucks between home and my work place and I had become a frequent visitor. I was suffering much teasing from gawilli about having a Starbucks jones. She even chided me about writing the Starbucks Shuffle and then selling out to the "save the world with the arabica bean".

Well, after a couple of tries I figured the Krups out and before long gawilli had a latte jones of her own to deal with. Many of you have read about this problem and seen photographs of the fall out. So here is the willi mocha latte recipe.

This recipe is for preparation before leaving for work. It begins with a bib apron -can't get coffee or chocolate stains on a Jerry Garcia tie!

Start with fresh water in the espresso maker and your favorite bean, we prefer a dark roast. Currently we are using a Trader Joe's dark roast. Any dark roast bean should work; why you could even use a Starbucks bean. Doing so would support numerous liberal causes and contribute to the stock dividends of many investors.

I grind said beans in an electric grinder. I usually grind more than I need. I then use the doubleshot filter. The single shot filter is for wimps. Of course I would prefer that they made a triple shot filter but then, but then, but then! Well it might be a little too much caffeine.

After filling the double shot filter and installing in the espresso maker I retain the excess in a ramekin dish. This allows me to make the next day's mocha latte without a grind.

Next I pour the milk into the cute little metal pitcher that comes with the espresso maker. I fill it about halfway which corresponds to a number of tablespoons that aren't worth measuring. Then comes the mocha. In my case I use a chunk broken from a bar of dark chocolate. Using a miniature box shredder and the smallest shred holes I shred dark chocolate into the cute little pitcher until it covers the exposed surface.

In order to ensure that the final mix is hot I first melt the chocolate by placing the pitcher under the steamer. I have found that if you let the steam hit the surface first before submerging the spigot the chocolate melts better. After submerging I leave the cute little pitcher under the spigot until the chocolate is melted.

Next I switch the lever to the espresso mode. I have a little espresso cup into which I let the coffee flow until it is half full. Then I switch back to the steam mode and finish steaming the milk. If you raise the spigot to the surface you get a little foam.

I pour the espresso into a "to go" cup and then add the steamed chocolate milk. I squirt a little or a lot of whipped cream on top. Finally, I shred chocolate flakes on top using the large shred holes. These flakes fall like chocolate snowfalkes onto the whipped cream.

I hand the willi mocha latte to gawilli, receive a kiss for the work and remove the apron. The Garcia tie is clean and the wife and I are smiling like we ripped off Starbucks and got away with it.

-willi

Rock and Roll USA

2007-01-10T20:59:00.000-06:00

Monday, January 8th was Elvis Presley's birthday. In today's Post Tribune an article ran about a freshman representative's first speech. The headline said, "Rep gets all shook up in Congress". Naturally this caught my eye.

As I read, "Thank you, Mr. Speaker. Yesterday, Jan 8, was the 72nd anniversary of the birth of the King of Rock 'n' Roll, Elvis Presley. Elvis was a Memphian, a U.S. Army veteran, and an ambassador of goodwill throughout the world through his music and movies. I'm here to tell you that Elvis is still alive today....." I panicked!

Have the people of Tennessee elected a representative that has seen Elvis at the 7/11?

Upon further reading I relaxed, .... "in spirit and as relevant as ever."

Rep. Steve Cohen, D-Tenn. went on to talk enthusiastically about the Democratic 100 hours. He used Elvis metaphors that not only made me line up behind the effort, but also left me all shook up. Consider: "it's now or never' that we make changes America needs". Or responding to why the Democrats should make the 100 hour push, "because we will do the people's will so we will not be 'returned to sender.'

The article ended with the following quote, "And we won't be cruel to those who are being paid the minimum wage."

I stood up at the breakfast table and gyrated, but only from the waist up. I sure hope the Democrats are successful or we may all be in the "heartbreak hotel".

--Willi

WWC: What's Missing

2007-01-07T17:15:00.000-06:00

When I was a kid in the sixties getting doughnuts was a treat. We often had them when my grandfather was in town. He always had a warning for us before we would start feasting on the warm doughnuts, "Be careful not to eat the hole."

I would try to out fox him by eating all of the outside of the doughnut about halfway. This would leave a hole. Of course now days you don't worry about eating the holes. Instead you just buy a box of holes without the doughnuts.

Courtesy of Odd Mix, the words are Missing and Mystery.

Missing:

Mystery:

Proof:

Christmas Tales Remembered

2007-01-04T20:01:00.000-06:00

I have been reading a few Christmas blogs over the recently past season. It set me to thinking of what I might share -that was a week ago- what the hay, so I'm a little slow!

My dad was quite the prankster. Sometimes people would find his pranks funny and sometimes not so funny. We had this old double barrel shotgun, a Nitro shooter from St.Louis circa late 1800's or early 1900's. It was in the Strait family and prized amongst the sons of Janie. My dad had retrieved it from a distant cousin, Ralph and then after my dad passed my uncle had it. I retrieved it from him. Back to the story....

Every Christmas when I was a kid my dad would go to E.G.'s house cause he reloaded shotgun shells and get a couple of 12 guage empty shells. He would throw them into the chambers of the old "Strait" double barrel and pull the hammers back. Then he would announce that he was staying up late and was gonna shoot Santa Claus. Got us kids in hysterics! Woke up the next morning and Santa Claus had come, but he made a mess of setting up the Fort Apache.

The above story when retold has been labeled not so funny. But, it did not warp me as a kid and in fact I got hoot out of it. Nothing matches the hoot we all still get out of a story that most would call funny.

My dad always had a habit of announcing that he was going to hang his stocking, a burlap sack, on the mailbox and see what Santa would bring him. (Why would a round bearded man who had been threatened with empty shotgun shells from an antique gun want to leave this loony tune anything escapes us all.)

Every Christmas morning my dad went to the mailbox and returned to the living room to empty his stocking. Of course nothing came out. He would announce that it appeared that he had been naughty, not nice. We all knew that anyway.

One Christmas my uncle and aunt from my mom's side of the family were living in Little Rock. They came over on Christmas Eve with my cousins. At the end of the evening my dad made his "stocking hanging proclamation" then proceeded to march to the mailbox.

The next morning my dad went to fetch his stocking. He returned to the living room with a puzzled look on his face. Then he poured out a mess of produce (I recall potatoes. My mom recalls onions. So we will refer to it as produce for accuaracy.)

Guess my uncle figured he would pull his own prank!

-willi

Pinochet and Me

2006-12-19T21:35:00.000-06:00

On Monday, December 11, 2006 Chilean ex-dictator Pinochet died. Pinochet overthrew the democratically elected Chilean President Salvador Allende, a “socialist” or at least that is what the U.S. in the middle of the Cold War thought. Upon taking control of the government Pinochet shocked the world by filling the soccer stadium in Santiago with political prisoners who were tortured, shot, disappeared or forced into exile.

On a live album released in the late seventies Peter Seeger and Arlo Guthrie told a story about a particular poet, Violeta Parra. and those “leftist” who were led to their execution in the stadium.

“Forced into exile” is an interesting choice of words for the A.P. When I lived in Bolivia I met a Chilean family. The father of the family had been an organizer for Allende in the northern town of Arrica. After Pinochet he could not find work of any kind. He was sort of “blacklisted” as a result of those activities. So he moved to Santa Cruz and started a shoe making business. The family always talked of Chile and how there were no young males in the 20’s to 30’s because they had been forced out of the country or worse yet, just disappeared.

When I traveled to Chile with the youngest daughter of the family I found that to be the case. I was in my early twenties and there were not too many males older than me who weren’t 40 something. I was also taken with the presence of the military. Now military presence was common in South America in the late seventies. The only democratic country at the time was Venezuela. But, the similarities between these troops and Nazi storm troopers were too overwhelming for this Combat television show fan.

I recall getting lost in Santiago and going up to one of these troopers who had a “submachine gun” on his shoulder and asking for directions. He was polite and began to tell me directions. He was even kind enough to gesture and point so I would be sure to understand. As he pointed left, then right the machine gun’s barrel followed his body tracing a path across my mid section. That was all I could think about. I quickly decided I would be better off consulting someone else who was a little less armed.

I also remember finding a restaurant that featured folk music. As we listened to the traditional songs of Chile and drank excellent red wine my traveling companion began to talk with the artist. Turned out he was Violeta Parra’s Uncle. Soon the restaurant was empty except for us; at that point he began to sing songs that had been banned.

When we left the restaurant we were filled with excitement and surprised at the empty streets. Then we were worried because there were no taxis. We proceeded to walk quite a distance through the empty streets to our hotel. The walk was uneventful except for the thrill of the music we had heard and its connection to the “revolution”. Turns out the streets were empty because there was a curfew.

Jay Bakker on CNN.com

2006-12-15T22:27:00.000-06:00

A story earlier this week appeared on CNN.com, Bakker, Brown: What the hell happened to Christianity? Bakker would be Jim Bakker PTL leader's son, Jay. In the article Jay Bakker and Marc Brown allege that people nowadays are not drawn to Christianity because they view it as judgmental and hypocritical. They blame the Christian right and its political agenda. They also acknowledge that the root of the problem may go back to Rome's Christian Emperor Constantine who set laws that limited the rights of non-Christian Romans.

Whether one agrees with the premise that the Christian right's political agenda is the cause of the alienation or it was all Constantine's fault seems to be elementary. Without Constantine there might not be a religious right political movement. Constantine wrote the book on using religion to promote government. Much of what "established" creedal Christianity was established by the "great" Emperor, or is that "benevolent oppressor"?

While I tend to agree with Bakker and Brown -gag! I can not believe that I could agree with anyone remotely related to Jim Bakker- but guess I do. Some questions did come to mind....

If people are not drawn to Christianity because of the political positions of the Christian right how come I know so many people who describe themselves as Evangelical Christians? And why do so many of these people seem to agree with the political positions? Now I'm not talking about my football watching buddies, but people that I meet through work and stuff. It is almost like a fad. You know everybody's doing it, so I am too. It's cool and I want to be cool.

The article ends with the idea that Christianity is about loving one another, more about inclusion than some kind of morality code. The video segment that goes along with the article talks about how Jesus hung with the tax collectors, lepers, and ladies of the evening. I wonder if all the folks I know who think it's cool to be Evangelical agree with Jesus on these matters of inclusion.

Friday's Feast

2006-11-17T20:39:00.000-06:00

I did this once and haven't done it in awhile. Gawilli said I should try again. So here it is.

Appetizer: Do you believe there is intelligent life on other planets?
When I meet a being from another planet then I will determined if they are intelligent or not. Until that time it doesn’t seem to matter that much to me. It is sort of like if a tree falls in the forest and no one hears does it make a sound. Well sure, but who cares, no one heard it.

Soup: What is one thing you said you'd never do, but you eventually did?
When I was hiking in South American I swore I would never drink water without sterilizing it first. Then I ran out of water on the side of a mountain and found a spring. The rest is history! I took my fill and worried no more. After that I broke every “never will do” while in South America such as: eating things sold on the street. Before leaving I was a big fan of beef and potato cooked on hibachis. I even drank those peach juices in the glasses washed in the buckets without soap. I never had the runs or hepatitis while I was there thanks to that spring water.

Salad: Who is the teacher that influenced you the most in school?
Limiting it to one is difficult. Not because I have had so many excellent teachers, but because I have been a perpetual student.

In high school Mrs. Hightower influenced me more than I realized. Primarily, because she told us that Martin Luther King was the greatest public speaker because he always spoke in the language of his audience, never above them or below them. But, then there was Mrs. Roger who challenged me to read Grapes of Wrath even though I refused. I quickly turned into a Woody Guthrie socialist or Mrs. Sheets who just plain cared about people.

Later in graduate school, there was Dr. Swan at outdoor ed. camp who loved teaching so much that he never hesitated to throw together an ecology lesson on a moments notice and hike out in the field with a group of fifth graders when a graduate student failed to show up for a lesson.

Main Course: If you could trade places with anyone for one day, who would it be and why?
I would be a cowboy in the 1800’s. Those guys were their own man. Ridin’, ropin’, shootin’ and humpin. No seriously, I can’t answer these types of questions. I am truly Popeye the sailor man –I am what I am. I just can’t imagine trading places with anyone. Life always appears to be greener on the other side until you get there and then it’s the same old crap you left.

Dessert: What is your favorite dish to prepare?
A slow smoked (15 hours minimum), dry rubbed beef brisket. It’s work and it’s fun. Of course I like grilling anything or for that matter cooking anything that makes people smile. I also like playing with fire and sharp objects like butcher knives. But, the brisket is particularly naughty because everyone loves it and you see it in their eyes that they enjoy it and that their cardiologist is probably going to make bundle off of them for eating it. Of course deep frying turkey is pretty much the ultimate too. I mean it has fire, it’s somewhat dangerous and you might have a beer while you’re doing it. Then again, beer can chicken is lots of fun too. Those chickens look so cool sitting upright on the can. But then, you can’t beat Fat Tuesday at our house when we cook oyster poorboys and crawfish and bake King Cake. It’s a party for two days with the Subdudes playing loudly on the iPod.

Lost in the Ozone

2006-11-15T20:02:00.000-06:00

So where has willi been? Lost in the Ozone is a pretty good description. That would be the ozone of wireless router connections.

We began to experience some difficulty staying connected to our wireless router. Gawilli had a serious blogger need that I managed to meet by running a 50 foot network cable up the stairs to her desktop computer. I continued to connect briefly and read your blogs and proceded to get disconnected while trying to reply. Gawilli began to get irritated at me for not commenting on her posts. Of course I did point out that I had come upstairs to tell her how wonderful her post was, but I think she prefers the cyber connection that we had.

After two weeks of trying to reason this trouble out I finally went to Linksys.com and downloaded linksys advisor. I proceeded to setup the entire network. It worked fine. I thought I was one cool techno dude, then I lost the wireless connection again.

Gawilli returned from birthday shopping with Saraviola and they proceeded to show me their purchases. I was interested until they got to the shoes, then I vanished. I hit the linksys site one more time. This time I went to the question and answer section and typed in my problem -"my wireless connection will not stay connected".

I selected the choice about interference from your neighbors wireless network. I had been seeing new available secured networks, so I figured that might be relevant. Besides at this point I was so frustrated I could settle with blaming all my troubles on my neighbors.

Sure enough the "advisor" told me how to enter the IP address and change the channel of my router. It even gave me the default channel numbers and 2 other preferred numbers. Since I figured all of this trouble was the "default" of the neighbors I selected one of the other 2 numbers. Now, I would tell you what number I selected, but then if you moved up by me we might have "wireless" conflict. So, I will keep that to myself.

I fired up my wireless connection in the basement and it was rock solid -did not disconnect all night. The next day I clipped Gawilli 's wire and made her wireless connection and it too was rock solid. Since solving this high tech problem has made me feel like IT Gawilli and I have not stopped talking to each other through cyberspace! Do not fear we still have coffee in the mornings at the dining room table and read the paper out loud to each other.

Starbuck's Shuffle-WWC

2006-10-29T16:10:00.000-06:00

When we go to Nashville we stay on Music Row and go to get coffee at the Starbuck’s on the Vanderbilt campus. Vanderbilt is a private university with a long history of capitalism. The Commodores were well heeled industrialists and probably a few planters thrown in just to make it southern. This particular Starbuck’s is filled with the upper class and everywhere you can see evidence of the Starbuck’s effort to change the world. While there last year I was inspired to write:

The Starbuck’s Shuffle

Gonna stop in at Starbuck’s, get a specialty blend
I’ll have it to go – I like it that way.
The place is crowded with beautiful people.
They’re styled and liberal – that’s what I say.
Wearing Abercrombie and Lauren,
Birkenstocks and Dock
Sippin latte – checking their stocks.

Double mocha café – decaf, extra froth
Write it on my cup.
Doing the Starbuck’s Shuffle, looking tight – feeling right.
Drinking cappuccino – checking the palm pilot
Tapping the keys on the laptop.
Takes several G’s to do the Starbuck’s Shuffle.
Doing it right – looking real tight.

It’s a green place with conservative conservationists
Napkins are smaller out of recycled paper
just below the third world campaign
Gonna save the world with my Arabica Bean
I’m going to Starbuck’s just to be seen.

It seems that now I am accused by gawilli of having a Starbuck’s jones. Dean White, the local billionaire entrepreneur in Northwest Indiana, has opened a Starbuck’s. It just so happens that this Starbuck’s is on my way to school. I stopped right after it opened and found this little booklet on Starbuck’s lingo. Now I stop for a “triple shot cappuccino in a personal cup”. It gets me through the day. It also consumes me to the point that I confuse lame and late with lame and latte.

Courtesy of Odd Mix, the words are Lame and Late.

Lame: It's lame to go to a fabric store with your wife on a Saturday even if it is to shop for “gold lame”.Late: Don't be late for work because you stopped for a latte.

The Starbuck’s Shuffle was influenced by Kate Campbell’s “New South”. She writes:

“Friday morning I was down at the Starbucks
Sippin’ on a latte with the fat left out
I had a bagel and a sudden revelation
I’m finally living in the new south.”
-Kate Campbell from the CD Monuments

Rolled Oysters at Mazzoni's

2006-10-27T20:26:00.000-05:00

"A rolled oyster consists of three raw oysters rolled in pastinga (a batter-like mixture) and deep fried. As the outside seals and becomes golden brown, the oysters inside steam and burst. the liquour (juice) from the oysters gives the breading an oyster-like flavor."

The quote above is from the menu of Mazzoni's Cafe in Louisville, Kentucky. Mazzoni's is next door to Air Devil's Inn on Taylorsville Road and one of the places we ate on our recent vacation.

The menu tells the Mazzoni story: The Mazzoni brothers arrived in Louisville from Genoa, Italy in 1884. The home of the original rolled oyster was Phillip Mazzoni's cafe on Third and Market. The Mazzoni restaurant is now in its fifth generation and continues to serve the rolled oyster.

We love oysters. I first became familiar with them on the half shell sometime after college. I attempted to interest gawilli in the prospect of oysters on the half shell with no luck at all. Then we visited New Orleans where she tried the gulf coast variety at the French Market. She was hooked. We also like fried oysters. The fried oyster poor boy is our annual staple for Fat Tuesday, a family cuisine holiday around our house.

When we ventured into Mazzoni's Cafe on our recent vacation we did so with raw oysters on our mind. Mazzoni's did not have them on the half shell but, they did have delicious oyster cocktail consisting of several raw oysters in a glass served with cocktail sauce. Our order caught the attention of another Mazzoni's dinner who swore he would try that on his next visit.

For dinner we both tried the rolled oyster. What a treat! The breading was deep fried with oyster flavor just as the menu describes. The oysters in the middle while steamed were more like raw oysters than the steamed oysters in the shell that you can get at Hooters. A very enjoyable and interesting dish.

If you are ever in Louisville drive out to Taylorsville Road and give Mazzoni's a try. If you like oysters you will find the rolled oyster a very interesting and tasty treat.

Air Devils Inn - Louisville, Kentucky and WWC

2006-10-22T20:31:00.000-05:00

We just returned from our annual Fall Recess trip to Louisville and a good time was had by all. Louisville, Kentucky became “the place to go” for gawilli and I after our first trip to Nashville in 1999. We were “newbies” to the Americana scene and planned a trip to the Bluebird Café for a songwriters in the round. The show we saw featured John Scott Sherrill, Alan Rhody and Tim Krekel. The only one of the three that we were remotely familiar with was John Scott Sherrill who had co-written a song with Jim Lauderdale that was on a CD we bought when we saw Lucinda Williams in Chicago.

“In the round” shows involve songwriters taking turns sharing a song. We noticed right off that Tim Krekel always played along with the other writers’ songs, providing some guitar work that even the songwriters commented on. He played one of his own songs that really stuck with us. It was a little ballad that ended with a girl going through her jeans and finding a winning Kentucky Lottery ticket, -“now they’re driving down 65 to Panama City Beach Florida in a brand new S10 pick up truck”- and began:

“Well they fell in love in the holding tank
The first Friday in May
It was their first offense so they got out in time
To whoop it up on Derby Day”
-Here Ever After by Tim Krekel

We bought one of Tim’s CDs and had him sign it. On the way home we put in the player and…. What a record! This new found artist could rock and wrote a great song. One of those great songs was “Cry on the Shoulder of the Road”, a hit for Martina McBride. We planned a trip to Louisville to see Tim Krekel and his band. The show was fantastic and we have been going back to Louisville to see Tim perform ever since.

When you see artists in small venues you often have an opportunity to meet and talk with them. We had that opportunity the first time we saw Tim and we found him to be a “regular guy” interested in why we would drive from Chicagoland just to hear him play. He always remembers us as “the people he sees once a year”. Since that time we have always felt that we knew someone in Louisville.

One of our favorite places to see Tim and the band play is Air Devils Inn. The place breathes rock and roll music when they play there (see WWC). The crowd dances wildly all night and gawilli and I stay out much later than usual. This weekend’s show was no exception. He even played “Fell Down in Memphis” twice.

“Fell down in Memphis
Tripped over my own tied shoes.
Face down on Beale Street
But, I’m alright now, I’m just a little bruised”
-Tim Krekel, Fell Down in Memphis

If you listen to Cross Country, Channel 12 on XM radio you may have heard Tim Krekel. They played many cuts from “Happy Town” which came out in 2002.

“Happy town
Nothin’ gets started til the sun goes down
Happy town
Sweat-stained smoke-filled lost and found
Happy town”
-Tim Krekel

If you ever get to Louisville, Kentucky be sure visit Tim’s site before you go. He usually has more than one show in a week. Quite often one of the shows will be acoustic, Tim Krekel and friends. We saw one of these at the Blue Grass Brewing Company on our trip. He played some tunes off “Word Keeps Turnin”. You can find this CD on iTunes and of course Amazon.com has the rest.

“The sun talks about blue sky, the clouds talk about rain,
Red bird sits on a telephone line singing his sweet refrain.
And the world keeps on turning. Yea the world keeps turning round.
Just doing what comes naturally, like gravity tethered to the ground.”
–Tim Krekel

Our trips to Louisville are like going home. Neither of us is from there, but we sure love the place. Listening to Tim Krekel and seeing the folks that follow him make it even more like home. When we said goodbye to Tim and his wife at the end of the show it was like telling a friend, “we’ll see you next time we’re in town”. It is an inspiring experience that you don’t forget easily.

Me and you and a Coup de ville.
Take a ride down to Louisville
Hear our friend Tim Krekel pick that guitar,
Ride around in our rag top car.
Goin’ to Louisville, Goin’ to Louisville
That’s the way I feel.
Goin’ to Louisville, Goin’ to Louisville
-J. Strait Willi

Courtesy of Odd Mix, the words are Delicate and Intense.

Delicate: The changing of the seasons is a delicate transition. This photo was taken at the Falls of the Ohio.

Intense: The dancing at Air Devils Inn in Louisville is intense.

WWC

2006-10-15T18:35:00.000-05:00

Courtesy of Odd Mix, the words are Hello and Goodbye.

Hello: We have a new borders in our local mall that opened this week. Gawilli and I love Borders. A visit to Borders used to mean a drive two or three suburbs over but, now it's in our own backyard! We went today and walked away with three Solomon Burke CD's. I've been twisting and shouting like a soul man since we've been home!

Goodbye: The Bluechip Casino is definitely a place where some of us would say, "Goodbye to all our hard earned cash." Of course for gawilli and I Borders would be both Hello and Goodbye. You see, we don't gamble, but we got a CD jones that would leave the baby shoeless.

Immigration Quickly

2006-10-11T20:34:00.000-05:00

One of our newspapers has a "What do you really think?" feature called Quickly. Readers telephone or e-mail comments anonymously. Today one quickly read:

"I own a company that does landscaping. When I can't find people to work, I hire illegal aliens. Listen I didn't let 'em in here. You can thank President Bush for all that. So if they want to work, I'm gonna let 'em work. If they wanna help build America, then let them help build America."

I found this comment very interesting and had several questions for the anonymous employer. First, as much as I do not care for Bush I would not hold him responsible for letting illegal aliens into the United States. The illegal immigration problem existed long before he was president.

Second, what type of wage does this business owner pay? The inability to find workers may be a direct result of the low wage the business pays. If that is the case the business owner is using illegal aliens to improve his bottom line and take jobs from legal Americans. I believe that is one of the reasons that hiring illegal aliens is against the law and subject to penalty.

Third, is this business owner admitting to willingly breaking the laws regarding the employment of illegals? He must pay them cash and therefore reports no taxes or social security. It would seem to me that the owner is taking money away from the government. This would be the government money that provides services and infrastructure to the rest of us citizens.

Kinky Friedman who is an independent candidate for governor in Texas plans to impose fines of $25,000 and $50,000 on companies that hire illegal immigrants. Bet that landscape business owner is glad he doesn't live in Texas if Kinky is elected.

Finally, I do not believe that this business owner is acting in the best interest of anyone but himself. Sure illegal aliens need to make some money in order to survive, but I do not believe that is this owner's real interest. Then again, maybe it is benevolent greed.

-Willi

Friday's Feast Number One Hundred and Fourteen

2006-10-06T22:50:00.000-05:00

Feed your mind with thought-provoking, mind-stimulating questions…
visit Friday's Feast: a buffet for your brain.

Appetizer
Name a song you know by heart.
"Keep on the sunnyside, Keep on the sunnyside, Keep on the sunnyside of life.
It will help you all the way it brighten everyday, If you keep on the sunnyside of life."
A Carter Family radio X opener and my favorite song from Will the Circle Be Unbroken, the breakthrough Nitty Gritty Dirt Band album of the seventies that launched a bluegrass revolution, at least for me.

Soup
What will you absolutely not do in front of another person?
Not much! Anything goes!

Salad
How often do you use mouthwash and what kind do you like?
I like any of the Listerene products anytime. No pain, no gain!

Main Course
Finish this sentence: I am embarrassed when...
When I get home from work and find that my fly is open. I mean, wonder if it was open all day!

Dessert
What was the last food you craved?
Oysters on the half shell. Couple of dozen with cold beer.

Superior Maturity and Behavior

2006-10-02T21:13:00.000-05:00

Today I went to the mailbox and found a progress report from my kids’ high school. My kids live with their mom rather than with gawilli and me. One is in college and the other two are in high school, freshman and junior.

My daughter’s progress report was a good one –A’s and B’s in subjects such as: English, Spanish, Algebra I, Biology, Foods and Health. The computerized report has a comment code or “personal development marks” as they are called.

X = Indicates Superior Maturity and Behavior
Y = Indicates Normal Maturity and Behavior
Z = Indicates Improvement is Needed

I understand the behavior part of this indication, but I always question when educators make judgments about maturity. I mean, I have an important job; I manage my money pretty well and take care of my house and home (terminology courtesy of Bob Dylan).

“What kind of house is this,” he said,
“Where I have come to roam?”
“It’s not a house,” said Judas Priest,
“It’s not a house….. it’s a home.”
-The Ballad of Frankie Lee and Judas Priest
from John Wesley Harding

I would consider it all of the above, except maybe the Dylan quote, to be a sign of maturity for a fifty year old male. But, if you factor in that I always crack a little smile and sneak a little laugh when I let a fart in the presence of gawilli, usually followed by some comment on its musical quality such as tone or sustain, that would definitely be immaturity.

So I figure maturity and immaturity is pretty much a judgment call. For that matter behavior is too, but it is a lot easier to understand.

My daughter had a Y which equals normal maturity and behavior in every class but one. In that class she had an X indicating superior maturity and behavior. Now if you read about Brisket Fest you know that around our house and home we love to cook and eat. When the kids come it is always a time for “breaking bread”. My daughter loves to join us in the kitchen and help with the preparation.

So in which class did she demonstrate superior maturity and behavior? That’s right, Foods. Of course I will have to remind her not to include any of her father’s nutritional wisdom in a short answer question. I don’t think her teacher would like reading “fat is where is at.”

-Willi

Weekend Word Challenge

2006-10-01T21:02:00.000-05:00

Provide: "Coats for Kids" provides a winter coat to kids and families that need them.

Restore: At one time this cabinet was a piece of junk in the laundry room. It had been salvaged from another basement by gawilli's dad. I had this idea for a fiesta cabinet when we remodeled the kitchen with a fiestaware theme. Now it has been restored into one of her favorite pieces of furniture.

Holding Up the Military

2006-09-26T21:44:00.000-05:00

In the paper today was a headline, "Hastert threatens to stop defense bill, Speaker wants action on immigration, court security". I read on to find out that House Speaker, Dennis Hastert(R) from Illinois had decided that a defense bill should have some unrelated measures attached. One of the unrelated measures was a bill to allow judges to carry a concealed weapon. The other was legislation already passed by the house which would make it easier to detain and deport illegal and criminal immigrants in a bid to curb gang violence. The Senate has already passed a broad immigration measure that also included such provisions.

The bill that Hastert and House leaders are holding up as they attempt to make these attachments deals with provisions that effect the military. Notable among those provisions would be pay raises and weapons spending. Now I am not a gungho support the military industurial complex kind of guy, but really picture this:

You are soldier in Iraq. You wake every morning wondering if this is the day when you and your buddies get caught by some terrorist bomb or if this is the day that you witness a bunch of Iraqs get blown up by their fellow country men. Toss in a few worries about your weapon failing and few thoughts of home such as how is the family making out finacially?

You fire up your laptop and read the some news from stateside. You discover that you may not get a pay raise for this job that no "fortunate son" wants to do and that the budget for your weapons might fail. All because the U.S. has to keep them immigrants out and let the judge hide a pistol in his rob.

Does the Speaker of the House support our troops? I am sure he does. He just hasn't come to grips with Plantation style working conditions. Once again, the great Bob Wills can be quoted,

Little bee sucks the blossom, big bee gets the honey,
Dark man picks the cotton, White man gets the money.

Perhaps it should be modified a bit. Say,

Little bee gets his butt shot off, big bee gets his bucks
Soldier worries 'bout his firearm, da judge gets his luck

-Willi

iTunes, No Songwriters

2006-09-24T17:32:00.000-05:00

Over the weekend my wife and I were searching iTunes looking for an artist we had heard on XM Crosscountry during the week. We successfully found Solomon Burke and after a little sampling we found the song we had heard, What Good Am I?

I skimmed the part of a review that an iTunes user had written and discovered what I thought to be true. Solomon Burke interprets songs written by others. I wondered who had written What Good Am I? I scrolled through the review and discovered that Bob Dylan had written it. So I searched iTunes some more and found the Bob Dylan version on the album Oh Mercy, one of the few studio Dylan records I do not own.

This experience set me to thinking. Why doesn’t iTunes provide the songwriters for a selection?

My wife informed that not all listeners are as interested in those details as we are. In our family we truly value songwriters. It is our passion to know who wrote a song and it is thrill to find out the song was a traditional song or written by some “old time” songwriter.

It seems to me that showing only the artist leaves the songwriter out of the picture for the listener. Without the songwriter there would be no song for the artist to interpret. For many artists this is not a problem because they are the songwriter.

To illustrate this point consider the song that is the name of the blog, Boats to Build. It was written and recorded by Guy Clark. The song has also been recorded by Jerry Jeff Walker (Cowboy Boots Bathin Suits) available on iTunes and Jimmy Buffett (License to Chill) not available on iTunes. Searching iTunes you can find two other artists that have recorded the song, Gove Scrivenor (Shine On) and a band City Mouse from Minnesota (Long Time No See). The band City Mouse also recorded Guy Clark’s Baton Rouge. No where on iTunes does the songwriter appear.

I figured it was a problem with the Gracenotes Database. If you have ever imported a CD into your iTunes library to put on your iPod you have seen the program access Gracenotes. So I searched Gracenotes. They do not list the songwriter. They also did not have a listing for Gove Scrivenor or City Mouse.

It probably is a difficult proposition to database the songwriters. Of course on some album selections in iTunes you receive an eBook that is essentially the liner notes. But this is not as available as I would like.

I guess I will continue to buy CD’s rather than purchase everything on iTunes. I am just addicted to liner notes and the need to know who wrote the song. As gawilli said, “not everyone is as interested in the songwriter as we are.” What do you blog readers think?

Courtesy of Odd Mix

Objective:

Value:

Equinox Blues

2006-09-20T20:31:00.000-05:00

Wikipedia defines an equinox as the moment when the sun is located right over the equator. Put another way, the equinoxes are the two days each year when the center of the sun spends an equal amount of time above and below the horizon at every location. This occurs twice a year around March 20 and September 23 or this coming Saturday. The fall equinox marks the changing of the seasons and slow “chill down” to winter.

While I love the fall, it’s my favorite time of year with the leaves changing and its wonderful colors, I did discover several years ago a peculiar equinox effect. It began with a nagging little pain in my left shoulder and then it would move to my elbow. I did not think much of it at first because I broke my left arm very seriously when I was a toddler. As a result my elbow has been reconstructed in an unorthodox fashion; the nerve is exposed. Brings new meaning to bumping your funny bone or should I say “cussing bone”. Curiously enough the pain in the shoulder and elbow disappeared after several weeks. Of course it came back at the end of every September.

Then I noticed that the end of September was a time of extreme moodiness for this earthling. I mean sometimes I would almost feel depressed for no reason at all. Nothing seemed to satisfy me and I was stuck in a blue funk.

After autumn was in full swing and all the trees were turning brilliant reds and yellows, my arm would quit hurting and once again I was smiling. I had some dealings with nature and knew about the equinox. I had even read that you can stand an egg on end during the fall equinox. I tried it one time at school and it worked. (mjd seems to imply that this is not real science, yet has not related that eggs can stand on end at other times of the year.) So I theorized that if the equinox could have an effect like standing an egg on end and changing the seasons then maybe it could have an effect on me. One problem, I didn’t have the same trouble with the spring equinox – no aching arm or moodiness at all.

So now I just describe it as the Equinox Blues. I accept that it will pass and I will be my old chipper self in a matter of weeks. I trust that it will not happen in the spring or any other time during the year. I even chose to write a song about it. Of course I managed to loose the lyrics once my arm quit hurting and my mood got better. But, I always remember the chorus:

I got the Equinox Blues
My eggs are standing on end
I got the Equinox Blues
When will it end?
--Willi

What’s Behind the Name?

2006-09-17T18:06:00.000-05:00

Spring of the White Robin writes about how she, and we, all got into blogging. It made me think of a “first blog” that I never wrote. So here it is:

Ever since I heard Bob Dylan I felt drawn to those who put words to music. Growing up near Texas, and going to college during a time that the world was rediscovering Willie Nelson, I came upon lots of Texas songwriters. The one that stood out in my mind, when I sought to rediscover this type of music, was Guy Clark.

When I first heard the song, Boats to Build, it spoke to me in ways I can’t explain. It became my theme song for piecing my life back together at a time when it had fallen all apart.

It's time for a change
I'm tired of that same ol same
the same ol words the same ol lines
the same ol tricks and the same ol rhymes

Days precious days
roll in and out like waves
I got boards to bend I got planks to nail
I got charts to make I got seas to sail

I always felt I had things to accomplish and that I should get on with it. I poured myself into my school work, adopting a reading innovation. I worked with my staff and together our school began to take on a new look. We shared it with the School Board using a slide show of pictures of children reading and teachers working with groups. It was all accompanied by music that described what we had been doing:

I'm gonna build me a boat
with these two hands
it'll be a fair curve from a noble plan
let the chips fall where they will
cause I've got boats to build

We continue to improve our school and the instruction we provide students. Along with work I have found myself moving into other areas with the same type of gusto. I have become involved with a Methodist Church community that is a bit liberal. Liberal in their theology and in their inclusiveness, but very committed to making a difference in how the world treats people.

Sails are just like wings
the wind can make em sing
songs of life songs of hope
songs to keep your dreams afloat

I find myself committed to many causes that I once believed in, but fell away from, sometimes because it felt safe to be silent. Now, I am not so concerned about safety and more concerned about what WE do for each other and how it affects the future.

Shores distant shores
there's where I'm headed for
got the stars to guide my way
sail into the light of day

I met Guy Clark at the Wheatland Folk Festival in Michigan. I sat in on a guitar workshop with he and Verlon Thompson. He signed my Boats to Build CD. My wife says it is the first time she saw me speechless. And speechless I was.

Guy Clark paints pictures with song lyrics. Pictures of old time Texas and folk heroes. He crafts beautiful songs about things we see everyday and might take for granted. He wrote a song called the Randall Knife about a knife his dad once owned “when he went to war to save the world from ruin”. The song was written upon his father’s death. It is a song that touches me in a way that makes me cry every time I hear it. It is a song I love, but do not listen to often.

I’ve tried my hand at songwriting. I’m not too good, but I keep at it because it makes me feel good. I would love to write songs like Guy Clark. The road I travel leads to me to places that need my talents, song writing is not one. I dedicate my life to making a difference as I travel that road and with this blog I try to share a few thoughts that I have. Some of them are just for fun, yet some of them are intended to challenge the reader. Mostly it keeps me focused on trying to make a difference. Because I know:

I'm gonna build me a boat
with these two hands
it'll be a fair curvefrom a noble plan
let the chips fall where they will
cause I've got boats to build

--Guy Clark, Boats to Build

Hear Guy Clark and Verlon Thomas perform Boats to Build.

This is why the blog is called Boats to Build, and that is why I write about the things you find here. Enjoy. --Willi

Courtesy of Odd Mix and by invitation from Jay. This weekend’s words were touch and release.

Touch:

Release:

Noah's Ark, You Pick 'em

2006-09-15T19:48:00.000-05:00
As you all have figured out, rain has been the topic of choice for bloggers in Northwest Indiana. Here's another deluge influenced blog that invites your participation.

God told Noah to make an ark, and to bring with him his wife, and his sons, Shem, am, and Japheth and their wives. Additionally, he was to bring pairs of all living creatures, male and female, and in order to provide sustenance, he was told to bring and store food. –Genesis 6

During the week of endless rain I heard someone say something about building an Ark. I decided that if there was even a remote possibility that someone like a Noah character was going to build an Ark then I was going to make a few requests.

Leave the mosquitoes, roaches, and squirrels off. Leave the mosquitoes because the pesky females bite and the bites itch for days. The roaches should be left off because they are nasty and overly prolific and everyone moves when they show up. As for the squirrels, they just bug me. I mean they are everywhere and you can’t keep them off a bird feeder to save your soul. Besides in suburbia they have no natural predators.

As I continue to think about this Ark thing, other critters come to mind such as chiggers. I have never seen a chigger, yet I am very familiar with them. Growing up in Arkansas I spent much of my childhood as a red polka dotted boy. When I was in college we had this keg party called the Chigger Festival. The theory was that all the alcohol consumed at this one party would deter the chiggers all summer. It never worked, but I always went.

Sea Gulls also come to mind. The “shit hawk” as they are sometimes referred to will grab your sandwich right out of your hand on the beach at Lake Michigan. They also have gatherings on the parking lots of “big box” stores. Sometimes you find some “goof ball” feeding them bread –like these birds need help finding food! I have a tendency to drive my truck fast through a gathering of sea gulls just to watch them fly off. This embarrasses my wife and I usually end up in a little trouble. But, really critters like the “shit hawk” deserve a little slack. After all they keep the White Castle parking clean, free of charge. So maybe they should have a ticket on the Ark.

Just for fun, what critters would leave off the metaphorical Ark?

The Road to Hell

2006-09-13T21:12:00.000-05:00
Earlier in the week while attending a very official meeting of educators I found myself questioning the merits of an age old metaphor. The education discussion of the day led one administrator to comment on how hard work and effort sometimes does not get the desired results. Being the elder member of our firm he drew upon an age old metaphor, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Now I knew what the colleague meant, but I found myself relating to it not from an education point of view, but from a theological one. Now that I have quit listening to what is “right” and started listening to the historical Jesus I believe in universal grace. God comes to everyone and everyone is in God. Some prefer to think of it as God saves everyone.

So I turned to one of my colleagues and said, “I wonder who sent back that information.” I mean, “The road to hell is paved with good intentions,” seems to indicate an admission that someone has done enough wrong to actually go to hell.

I do not believe in hell, especially as some geographical location or even as a torturing of those of us who are allegedly “wrong headed”. So my question is, “Where in the hell was this guy when he thought he was on the road to hell?”

Assuming that this information about what lies beyond the here and now is even partially correct I concluded I will not see this road to hell, nor will anyone else. The grace of god will bring us all home to where we came from and we will be in peace. No one will ever be able to verify the wisdom in the old saying that it is paved with good intentions.

Yes I know this is all a lot of blither about a metaphor. Kind of like that ark thing and the animals two by two or that dude that was swallowed by the whale and thrown up on some beach somewhere. People fight religious wars over these metaphors. I just thought I would fire a warning shot over the bow.

If Noah built an ark and he filled it full of critters
Sail a handmade boat full of dung
I’m a big blue monster with lizard tails for hair

I may not the brightest of the marbles in the bag…..

--Taken out of context with some omissions from Noah’s Ark by Cary Swinney on the album Big Shots.

-Willi

P.S. I am the "guest blogger" on "Speaking Metaphorically" this week.

It's a small world.

2006-09-10T19:28:00.000-05:00
I remember my dad meeting people in downtown Little Rock. They would start talking and low and behold they both new someone who was from Cleveland County. The conversation would end with, “it’s small world.”

We have all experienced it. We meet someone and then it turns out that they used to date someone we dated or their kids played baseball with our kids. In the education world it often plays out as, “I taught his sister, uncle or even his dad!”

There was a point in my life when I had this strategy called the “Three Year Plan”. I was not going to live any place for longer than three years. Kind of like a “stable gypsy”. Well that fell along the wayside when I found myself in the upper Midwest. I was married and having kids and had worked in the same spot for 10 years.

Since that time I have divorced and remarried, had no more kids, but acquired some new ones by other means. Now I find myself having completed another 10 years in the same school. Some kids I taught in previous jobs now have jobs in my school district. And some of my students’ parents had me as a teacher when I was “north of US highway 30”. Now I am south of US 30.

I used to think it was a small world too. But, now I think it is an age thing. You reach a point in life when you’re so old that the odds that you are going to meet someone that knows someone you know or are related to you in some other way increases. I mean the world is the same size it has always been. The only difference is that you have been in it a lot longer. The probability of association with something familiar increases with the number of years that you live. This is even more the case if you remain in the same relative region for some time. Of course the probability also increases as the people in your “old” region get older and move to new regions, say your region.

The other day the professors from the local college that places students in our school for field experiences came to talk with the teachers. There was a new professor who was from Arkansas, an Ouachita Baptist and Henderson State grad. I introduced the new prof. to the faculty my playing the Razorback fight song from one of those Razorback heads that you hit on the table.

Later as I showed the professors around one commented about how one of the teachers had taught their son. Then she made THE comment, “it’s a small world”. I replied, I used to think that too, but now I think it is a result of getting old and the probabilities of meeting someone related to you in some way increases.

Sounds like a negative take on a positive thing, kind of like spoiling someone’s déjà vu. Actually, I don’t think it is THAT bad. I enjoy being old enough to experience these types of connections.

The Swinging Door

2006-09-08T20:28:00.000-05:00
When I was a college student in Fayetteville, Arkansas during the late seventies there was a club called the Swinging Door. It was on the infamous Dickson Street just now from Roger’s Pool Hall, a place of notoriety because it was frequented by sports writers when they came to cover the Razorback games. It was also the establishment that served me my first legal beer. I won a dollar in a domino game played at a real domino table.

The Swinging Door hosted many talented bands of the time. The Cate Brothers who had a radio hit, Union Man, was one of them. Bill and Bonnie Hearne from Texas was another, although not well known. Bill played guitar and Bonnie played piano. If I recall correctly Bonnie was blind.

The Swinging Door also hosted several more local bands. Some of these bands made the southwest circuit down to Texas and over to Oklahoma. One of the bands was Cornbread. These guys were sort of bluegrass, Cajun and country all thrown together. I guess in the 21st Century we might say they were like the Gourds. They had this dude that played the washboard and man, he really could rock!

There was another band by the name of Zorro and the Blue Footballs. These guys were a riot. They might be described as a redneck jazz and jump blues band. Their shows were all ways filled with surprises, sometimes on the offensive side. They played Bob Wills’ Big Balls in Cow Town and it did not seem to be a song about dances.

One of the surprises that Zorro and the Blue Footballs seemed to always showcase at the Swinging Door was a streaker. Streaking was a fad back in those days. People would run naked across football fields or through campgrounds as we did on a church camp out to Lake Ouachita during high school.

At the Swinging Door the Zorro streaker would come from the back and run through the club right onto Dickson Street. I always heard that Zorro and the Blue Footballs tried this trick in Dallas and it had the same result that we had when we were in high school. They got arrested. We had our camp out cut short when they took us all home on Saturday. But, we were in church on Sunday just so we could talk about it.

The Swinging Door turned into the Whitewater Tavern in the eighties and continued to host good music. It is probably known by some other name now. But I am certain there is a place in its location on Dickson Street that hosts good music from the southwest circuit.

-Willi

p.s. After doing a little googling I discovered that a member of Zorro and the Blue Footballs, Windy Austin has or had a band in the late nineties called Windy Austin and the Hot House Tomatoes.

Universal Health Care Promoted at Church!

2006-09-07T20:38:00.000-05:00
I have often voiced an opinion about universal health care, most recently in the post, Jesus Christ for President. I have often mentioned the role of grace and question why we do not hear more about health care in our churches. I am pleased to announce that in at least one instance we have.

My friends from church, mjd and daddy d, went to a universal health care town meeting this summer. It was sponsored by the Methodist Church and hosted by North United Methodist Church in Indianapolis. At this town meeting there was much talk about H.R. 676 which seeks to make set up a single payer system. Families would pay not more than $1600 a year for health care. They even had details on how this would be paid for –employers and employees would both pay a small tax like the social security tax that comes from their paychecks. But, everyone would be covered. Money would be saved by eliminating the unnecessary administrative cost and profit now being paid to insurance companies and HMO’s. And business would be able to remain competitive. (See the links on the right for more information)

I was pleased that the church was involved in supporting this effort. I would still like to hear more from churches about universal health care and I would love to see it become a reality.

On a different note…. My doctor added mycardis to my blood pressure meds. The last time I was in he gave me a My Card. This “gem” guarantees that I will never pay more than $20 for a prescription of mycardis.

I went to the pharmacist to fill my prescription and did not have the card. No worries since I was going to pick it up the next day. So I went in the next day to pick it up with the My Card in hand. I gave it to the pharmacist and said, “I don’t know if it will make a difference or not, but if it doesn’t I will be pleased with the job that expensive health insurance is doing.” As it turned out, using the My Card got my prescription filled for half the price that my insurance would fill it. I paid $20 just like the card said. Makes you wonder what you’re paying for or working for in some cases. Definitely gets your blood pressure up!

--Willi

Waffle Stompers

2006-09-02T22:51:00.000-05:00
“Well, these boots are made for walking
And that's just what they'll do”
-Lee Hazlewood

While cleaning out the garage for Brisket Fest 2006 I remembered an old pair of hiking boots that I had refused to throw out. These boots are “waffle stompers” as they came to be known.

The leather of the boots was turned inside out giving them a very rough exterior. They were coated with a water proofing product known as snow seal. The sole of these boots were the infamous Vibram waffle sole. The sole was attached by sewing using a flat welt, although this particular brand sported a modified welt that was not completely flat.

These boots were purchased in Fayetteville, Arkansas in 1976. The boots had hiked the entire stretch of the Ouachita Mountain hiking trail, in the winter at that. They wandered the campus of the University of Arkansas when it snowed, along with my Catahoula hound, Hank Williams
–Wooooo pig soooie!

When I went to LaPaz, Bolivia as a student teacher, the boots went too. The boots were on my feet when I took a bus to some ruins on the altiplano. I missed my return bus and me and the boots had to catch a Chola truck back to LaPaz. We sat in the back of large truck full of Indians and shared a popcorn treat with the Indian kids. I still think of that trip when I hear the Bruce Cockburn song, “Dust and Diesel”.

Dust and diesel
Rise like incense from the road –
Smoke of offering
For the revolution coming

On that particular trip the boots and I teamed up for a hike on an Incan trail from the altiplano to the tropical area known as Las Yungas. According to our former US Aid guide the trail had not been hiked in years. We sorted our gear and I was found lacking a whistle. I had no idea why I needed a whistle until we started our hike. First, there was the land slide on the side of the mountain that we had to climb then there was the great wide open of grass covered steep mountain criss-crossed with trails and a condor soaring over head. I took a trail going down, knowing that we were to follow a river. Then I heard the whistles. I followed them back to the group with the new found appreciation of the signal whistle.

The boots went back with me to live in Bolivia for three years. They traveled to Santiago, Chile where after curfew we listened to banned folk songs sung by the uncle of Violeta Para. She was a popular folk singer during the Allende period that was captured and killed in the soccer stadium when Pinochet took over.

From Santiago it was on to the North and into Peru. The boots were with me when I took photographs of army tanks in the plaza at Arrequipa. They visited Machu Pichu and were on my feet when we saw the curly haired cross of sheep and alpaca (see previous blog entry).

Upon returning to the states the soles were quite worn out. So I visited a cobbler and had them resoled. They continue to serve me through some hard labor. I was a part of a hiking club that built the Ozarks Highlands Trail from the Boston Mountains to the Buffalo River country. They even went with me on my first backpacking trip to the Wind River Mountains in Wyoming. I retired those boots after that trip for a pair of lightweight Nike hikers; these carried me through the Saw tooth Mountains in Idaho. I do not have the Nikes anymore. My wife talked me into putting them in the gleaner’s box. But I just can not seem to part with these, even though they are antiques and I do not wear them anymore.

-Willi

Where oh where has this blogger been?

2006-08-27T17:39:00.000-05:00
The previous post “Minimum Wage” was actually conceived sometime in July when I first read the article. Several other posts were conceived in July yet never posted. So where has this blogger been?

During the months of July and early August this blogger was smoking beef brisket and pork butts in preparation for the annual "back to school" party and a church picnic. Smoking a brisket is a time consuming process. The meat is rubbed with a “not so secret” dry rub and wrapped in plastic then placed in the frig overnight. A charcoal fire is built in the side box of a smoker and piece of hickory is laid on top. The briskets are laid in the smoking chamber and a temperature of 225 degrees is maintained. Every three hours the briskets are turned over using two pig tail food flippers from White Plains, New York, thanks to Ginny. Before flipping they are sprayed with “witches brew” a 3:1 ratio of apple cider vinegar and a can of beer with a shot of whiskey or two. After all it is BBQ and whiskey seems to be a requirement. The briskets are slow cooked for about 15 to 17 hours. When they are removed they smell like something your cardiologist would not recommend consuming. They are once again wrapped and plastic and frozen until the event. When the event arrives the briskets are removed and wrapped in foil then placed in the oven and brought back up to temperature slowly. This allows the BBQ chef to mingle with the party guest until it is time to slice the precious meat.

Of course the above process allows plenty of time for a blog post, but it also takes place during the "back to school" preparations. As a building level administrator this is a very busy time. Schedules must be finalized, books ordered and school improvement plans submitted, all at the end of a summer when no vacation trip has been taken. That was the part that sapped the motivation to blog.

The party is over. Although as Robert Earl Keen says, “The road goes on forever and the party never ends.” At least this portion of the party is over and the road indeed goes on forever. I will once again attempt to fall into the habit of posting at least one blog a week, although I think I may play some "catch up" and post a few more than one a week for a while at least. So, “move it on over, cause the big dog’s movin in”(Hank Williams).

-Willi

Minimum Wage Bill

2006-08-27T17:01:00.000-05:00
Back in July I read a column from the St. Louis Dispatch concerning legislative action towards raising the minimum wage. It appears that a raise in the minimum wage was “tacked” onto a bill that lowered the inheritance tax.

The Republicans have long sought to decrease the inheritance tax. This is legislative action that truly benefits a very small minority. Why! I have heard that it does not even “kick in” to anyone’s benefit unless they make a million dollars. Like, I or rather my family will certainly save a bundle when this educator takes his last breath.

Apparently the Democrats were gearing up to “bash” the GOP for not supporting the minimum wage. Since an election is coming up in November the GOP formulated a cunning strategy. They would write legislation for an inheritance tax cut and attach an increase in the minimum wage. The Democrats would have to support the bill or end up looking like their mascot. The Republicans would get the long sought after break for their “fat cat” buddies and escape any Democrat assault on GOP intolerance for the working man.

In the St. Louis Dispatch column it was said that one GOP legislator was quoted as saying the Republicans had “out foxed” the Democrats on this issue. I am certain that as he returned to his seat the entire Republican side of the house broke out into a Bob Wills tune,

Take Me back to Tulsa

”Little bee sucks the blossom, big bee gets the honey,
Dark man picks the cotton, White man gets the money.”

Remembering Machu Picchu

2006-07-19T17:52:00.000-05:00
Recently my mother came from Waco for a little Hoosier visitation. She had just returned from a cruise with my aunt down the Danube River and through Eastern Europe. My mom is a bit of a world traveler. She has been to Europe on these cruises at least twice and to England, Scotland and Ireland. She has even visited my niece who lives in Palau.

When I was taking her to the airport to return to Waco I commented on all of her “worldliness”. She marveled at how wonderful all of the places were especially Scotland and Ireland. However, she noted that the trip to Machu Picchu was the best. I found this to be very interesting.

She went to Machu Picchu in 1979 when I was living in Bolivia. I had planned quite a trip for her. We flew to Santiago, Chile took a train to Temuco in the south then a bus ride to Arrica, Chile and then flew to Arequipa, Peru and then to Cuzco. In fact the stop at Arequipa was unexpected. We had plane trouble and were forced to land.

Upon arrival in Cuzco we encountered a teachers’ strike. As we walked the streets seeing the highlights in town we were forced to take refuge in a hotel because the police were shooting water cannons at the striking teachers.

Our schedule included a train ride out to Machu Picchu and back to Cuzco. Following Machu Picchu we planned to take a train to Puno, Peru on the banks of Lake Titicaca. There we border a fifty year old steam boat and cross the lake to La Paz, staying overnight on the steam boat.

Machu Picchu was remarkable. The stone work was incredible. Large heavy perfectly shaped stones were stacked upon each other sin mortar. It was definitely one of the wonders of the world. I could understand why she thought it was one of the highlights of her travels. But it also amused me because the rest of the trip did not turn out as wonderfully.

Two days before we were scheduled to take the train to Puno to catch the steamboat that sailed only on Tuesdays there was a transportation strike in Peru. No trains were running. If we did not get to Puno we would be delayed a week in Peru which was not possible since she was to return to the States the next week. So we worried.

Eventually I decided that I would visit a travel agent to see what our options were. The official answer was –no options! I had learned that in South America in the seventies that “no options” was only an official answer. So I asked what if I really, really needed to get there and was willing to pay.

The agent explained the only way would be to find a taxi driver who was willing to break the strike. Taxi drivers at that time were real mavericks. They had to have the money to buy their own automobile and the fares they earned were all theirs, not to mention what they charged. It usually took hailing three or four taxis before you found out what a reasonable price really was. Of course this was the case for Yankees; everyone else knew what the real rate was and would not pay more.

Understanding the Maverick Cab driver as I did, I asked the agent, “Just where would I find a taxi driver who might be interested in breaking the strike?” The agent replied that the cab drivers congregated just off the plaza.

I waited until dusk and left my traveling companions in the hotel. I walked to the plaza and hit the side streets until I found a long row of taxis. I walked up to some drivers and made my inquiry with no success. I surmised that my mistake was that I was asking drivers to break the strike in front of other drivers. So I found a driver who was standing alone by his cab. I explained my situation in Spanish. He seemed agreeable after explaining that we would need to leave very early in the morning and that he could not guarantee safe passage. Oh what the hell! We were up a creek without a paddle so we started talking fare. We agreed on a price. I told him what hotel we were in and he said he would see me at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. We shook hands in the dark and bid each other “hasta luego”.

We were up and ready and waiting. He arrived and we loaded our luggage in the trunk. We were leaving Cuzco in the dark. Transportation strike my ass! I thought. Then a short distance out of town we encountered somewhat of a barricade. Lumber, garbage and glass was strewn in the street. The maverick driver weaved through the obstacle sin problema. Of course he had to repeat that maneuver a number of times until we were away from civilization and out in the campo (country).

The rest of the trip was less eventful. We did stop on the altiplano at a research site where they were cross breeding alpaca and sheep. Boy, were they funny looking beasts! White curly furred llama looking animals.

We arrived in Puno very early and wondered what we would do until time to board. The taxi driver said he had relatives in Puno and he would take us there. They were very hospitable offering us cool lemonade and tea before leaving for the steamboat.

So I wonder just what my “worldly” mother meant when she said the best of her travels was the trip to Machu Picchu.

--Willi

No Americana music, theology or political blither; just a South American adventure for MJD.

Jesus Christ for President

2006-07-12T15:53:00.000-05:00
Yes, as through this world I've wandered
I've seen lots of funny men;
Some will rob you with a six-gun,
And some with a fountain pen.
-Pretty Boy Floyd by Woody Guthrie

Mornings begin with coffee and the newspaper around our house. Usually it includes my wife reading an article from her paper to me and vice a versa. Today I found myself thinking about Woody Guthrie’s line “Some will rob you with a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen.”

On Monday my paper ran an article about the Indiana state candidates laying out their priorities for the new session of the legislature. It stated that the state’s Republican leadership had come under fire for refusing to abolish a deeply discounted health care plan for retired lawmakers.

This was quite interesting since last week’s edition of my wife’s paper ran an article about Indiana Senator Vi Simpson, a member of the Indiana Health Finance Commission. Apparently the legislative council had requested that the commission examine what other states are doing in order to make recommendations for a health care system that can work.

Senator Simpson wrote that such provisions should include: Cover all citizens, focus on disease prevention and health promotion, provide prescription drug benefits, and vision and dental care options, improve affordability and access to health care, and finally, ensure privacy and choice of medical providers. I would definitely support Senator Simpson in this endeavor.

Less than a week later it appears to me that those in power in the past made certain that they would have access to affordable health care on the backs of those who may not be able to afford the same. -“Some will rob you with a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen.”

Today, July 12th, my wife reads me an editorial column about the minimum wage. This issue is dear to her like the health care issue is to me. No shortage of liberal politics in this household!

The column noted that the last raise in the minimum wage occurred in 1997 and that today it buys less than it did then. It also stated that while the minimum wage has been losing ground to inflation, the members of congress have been raising their own salaries which the columnist stated was $165,200 per year. -“Some will rob you with a six-gun, And some with a fountain pen.”

I am sure that many of these politicos, state and federal, are Christians. Why even some are probably card caring members of the religious right. Of course it is hard to see the grace and compassion in their decision making. Woody Guthrie drawing from the Bible sang it like this:

Jesus Christ was a man who traveled through the land
A hard-working man and brave
He said to the rich, "Give your money to the poor,"
But they laid Jesus Christ in His grave

Perhaps the system that was intended to benefit all Americans is beginning to look like the old domination system that Jesus opposed in the first century.

When Jesus come to town,
all the working folks around
Believed what he did say
But the bankers and the preachers,
they nailed Him on the cross,
And they laid Jesus Christ in his grave.
-Jesus Christ by Woody Guthrie

Sure would be nice if being a Christian politician meant demonstrating grace and compassion. Perhaps if it did we would already have universal access to health care and a minimum wage that kept up with inflation. I suggest that these politicos who think of themselves as Christian remember the words of Woody Guthrie when he wrote Christ for President.

God above our king
With a job and a pension for young and old
We will make hallelujah ring

Every year we waste enough
To feed the ones who starve
We build our civilization up
And we shoot it down with wars

But with the Carpenter on the seat
Way up in the Capital town
The USA would be on the way
Prosperity Bound!

Not a bad idea, Woody. Jesus for President!
-Willi

John Wayne and Jesus

2006-07-01T14:22:00.000-05:00
I met John Wayne and Jesus when I was just a kid
They both had on their cowboy hats just like I pictured them
I stood up at the front of the class waving my American flag
Saying the pledge sang amber waves of grain.
-Pat Green

It is an interesting picture –Jesus in a cowboy hat standing next to John Wayne with all the school kids waving their flags and saying the pledge. That would be the “one nation under God” pledge. Yet on this upcoming Fourth of July (or is it Independence Day?) the picture of John Wayne and Jesus will be acted out all across the country.

We Americans love the idea of a hero that sweeps in and saves us all from ruin. Like John Wayne often did. In the Searchers he looked for his abducted niece for years and prevailed in the end. What a man!

John Wayne was adopted by the establishment of our country and willingly painted an optimistic picture. Consider the Green Berets, released during the Vietnam War. This movie was released to illustrate support for a war that seemed to tear the country apart. It was the last chance to unite the people in the war effort led by the most respected man ever to wear a cowboy hat.

Jesus on the other hand was not adopted by the Jewish establishment. The messiah was supposed to free the first century Jewish population from the domination of the Roman Empire. He was expected to sweep down and lead the masses in an over throw of the evil empire like John Wayne in a cowboy hat. Instead he stirred up trouble for the temple and ultimately the empire.

His message was about loving God and your neighbor. He even said all those other temple rules were okay, but the only rule that mattered was to love God and your neighbor. Why, at one point he even said give Rome what is Rome’s!

He did create a lot of trouble for the Romans. Of course he had Jewish leaders who were in cahoots with the Romans riled up too. His way became the Christian church of today, although sometimes the two do not look the same.

The U.S. government has even adopted Jesus, God and the Bible, in spite of all our claims about freedom of religion. Our government takes Jesus and the Bible and stands them beside John Wayne and proclaims it the American Way. If we fight a war in Iraq we know that John Wayne is on our side along with God. Oh just forget about that love your neighbor stuff. After all John Wayne did not say that and the Old Testament has enough blood and gore to justify about anything we want to try.

The Republican Party was John Wayne’s political affiliation. The Republican Party has coupled the Bible and Jesus with John Wayne and labeled it patriotism. Anyone who does not agree with their platform is considered unpatriotic. In this manner the church has become a part of the denomination system rather than an alternative system of wisdom and together the two can weave a myth that lasts forever.

Consider Universal Health Care. In the seventies there was some discussion of a single pay system similar to Canada and Sweden. This was labeled socialized medicine, a very demonistic term that anyone who considered themselves a patriot must oppose. It was said that the quality of health care would degenerate because doctors would not be able to make money –like doctors are making money at the hands of the insurance companies in these modern times. Then in the eighties Health Care became a concern again and we lived through similar accusations. Now in the 21st Century the Steel Workers Union says that the United States is at a competitive disadvantage because other countries have Universal Health Care. States are even giving up on our federal government and looking for ways to provide universal access to health care (Vermont, Tennessee, etc.) But, good ole George and the GOP hold fast to their position and once again they will parade John Wayne and Jesus to support they claim of what is patriotic.

John Wayne might agree with them, but Jesus with or without a cowboy hat would not go along with it. There is nothing about grace and love for your neighbor in preventing universal access to health care.

Instead of making the Fourth of July a celebration of patriotism with John Wayne and Jesus waiving the flag to support the well established domination system of the 21st Century perhaps we should remember the origin of the holiday. It IS Independence Day. It is the day our country declared independence from England, the domination system of the 1700’s.

Perhaps those states that are growing impatient with the slow progress of the federal government in regards to Universal Access to Health Care are adopting some patriotism of their own. Perhaps the rest of us should look more at the message of Jesus rather than the patriotism of John Wayne. Maybe we should adopt New Hampshire’s state slogan, “Live free or die.” We could declare an end to the war, create Universal Access to Health Care, slap a cowboy hat on Jesus and listen to his song of grace.

-Willi

You Could'a Walked Around the World

2006-06-04T20:10:00.000-05:00
The Studebaker – the Pontiac – Cadillac and Ford
Some will be recycled and some will be restored
But somebody’s got you thinkin’ that the best way to survive
Is just to drive, drive, drive

But I’m here to tell you friends – if things haven’t gone too far
Don’t lay your treasures up in some big shiny car
Cause with less money than you’ve wasted and less time than it took to make it
You could’a walked around the world

These are the opening words of Butch Hancock’s You Could’a Walked Around the World and they seem to have more relevance to my life today than ever before. It occurs to me that there have been times in my adult life when I have been so consumed with making a living that I have forgotten to stop and look around. Of course my chosen profession of education puts me in a position to do something for others, yet at times it has become the extent of my life. I lived “school” at work and at home, often to the point that education IS me.

Recently, I became involved in a church. It seemed to my wife that this was something that we should do. Of course I was content just working at school and home with her –happy as two flies on….

First, it was just a Sunday thing and then we were working the Coats for Kids, the church clean up and walking in Fourth of July Parades. Next, the “whacky” pastor put us on committees and we suddenly became a part of the church community, rather than a couple of butts in a pew. Of course this church thing got pretty interesting along the way. We did some book study and learned about some pretty liberal theologians –Spong, Crossan, and Borg to name a few.

You could’a danced with danger – made good friends outta total strangers
You could’a walked around the world

You could’a learned how to heal instead of makin’ people sick
You could’a walked around the world
You could’a talked with masters ‘stead of arguin’ with fools
You could’a walked around the world

Some of the ideas did seem to hinge on danger if you consider that the message that blood atonement is not the essence of Christianity. But, much of it did seem to make sense. It took me back to a time when I was younger and spent time traveling, hiking, canoeing and thinking about God and the significance of Biblical thought for a modern scientific world. Like when one of my old hippie friends and I talked about the after life and how it could scientifically be real. We reasoned that after death the atoms of your essence or soul would ascend into the universe and hook up with similar atoms. If you had “good” atoms you hooked up to make more good in the world and if you had “bad” atoms…well you can figure that out. It was kinda of karma thang.

You coud’a walked through the jungle and seen Victoria falls
You could’a seen the pyramids and the taj mahal
You could’a seen the holy land – put yourself in Jesus shoes
You could’a walked around the world

You could’a walked around the world
You could’a walked around the world
You could’a seen the holy land – put yourself in Jesus shoes
You could’a walked around the world

I have always been a political person albeit a little “left” leaning. I said to my wife that I was much more passive about my political beliefs before we started going to church. Now I seemed impassioned about making the government demonstrate some grace. This has manifested itself mostly in my compelling interest in universal health care. I mean, it really torques me off that such a large portion of my earnings goes towards health care and others have no health care at all because they have very little earnings. It’s almost like health is for the wealthy and damn the poor. It certainly does not seem to demonstrate any grace. This situation always comes to mind when I think of the mission of the church. I think it should be universal health care. All the churches should unite in a fight to achieve universal health care for all people. Of course this would probably alienate a few church members who worked for insurance companies or were doctors and such, but it does seem to me to be the most important issue that is in need of some grace.

You could’a leaned into the face of four strong winds
‘stead of drivin’ round town collectin’ useless odds and ends
‘stead of goin’ nowhere youd could’a lived a life of destinations
you could’a walked around the world

you could’a climbed the Eiffel tower – seen the lights of gay paris
watched little dogs fight for power up in Washington d c
someday you will remember you’re child of mother earth and
you could’a walked around the world

Since we started this church thing I have found myself taking time from my all too important activities to prepare a meal for the youth with my Sunday school class. And you know it did not do much towards achieving universal health care, but I think it meant a lot to a bunch of kids on a Thursday night. They ate all the chicken and hot dogs like they were really hungry. The Sunday school class enjoyed the fellowship and all things considered I realized that I could have stayed at home, but then again I sure felt good about giving the time.

you could’a walked around the world
you could’a walked around the world
someday you will remember you’re a child of mother earth and
you could’a walked around the world

-Willi with a little help from Butch Hancock’s You Could’a Walked Around the World

The DaVinci Code

2006-05-19T20:44:00.000-05:00
The movie The DaVinci Code opened in theaters today. In my town there were churches that planned to protest the movie. One is led by a pastor who has been interviewed by the media in one of those “debunking the code” features. Everyone seems to think that this book and movie is an affront to Christians. My pastor reminds us that it is fiction!

In a sermon during the Easter season my pastor asked what if archaeologist found a burial “box” with bones that were identified by DNA testing to be the bones of Jesus, somehow suggesting that Jesus was not resurrected but lived to an old age and simply died. Of course he was not suggesting that was the case, but asking us to think about how such a finding, if it were even possible would effect what we believe.

I have thought about this hypothetical question a lot. And I have thought about the DaVinci Code and the premise that Jesus and Mary Magdalene were married and that the blood line continued into the French monarchy. But then how can one avoid thinking about this especially if they watch the History Channel!

I have come to the following conclusions. If Jesus was not resurrected in the sense that the Church believes, then at least the resurrection is true in that his spirit continues to live on in the hearts of many people some 2000 years after his death.

If he was married to Mary Magdalene and his blood line continued on what does it matter? It seems to me that there is plenty of evidence in the Gospel of Mark, the Gospel of Thomas and in Q that there was a historical person known as Jesus who taught an alternative wisdom and was crucified by the Romans most likely because he was creating too much controversy for the empire.

The alternative wisdom taught by Jesus was and is some powerful stuff! The law as it was written in the Torah was not the only way to know God. The most important commandment was to love God and your neighbor. That God loved us regardless of our short comings. Jesus’ message was one of compassion and love. His teachings pointed to God’s grace and that we should try to demonstrate grace as we lived our lives. These points seem to be all through the New Testament, the Gnostic gospels and writings of Paul. We know about this message not only because of the church, but also through archaeology. This message remains constant regardless of a resurrection or an alleged marriage to Mary and the continuation of a bloodline.

In some ways it is a shame that the church has become a system of “right beliefs” and requirements that detract from the message of grace. It seems to me that if the church were more focused on God’s grace and living grace then the DaVinci Code would not only be fiction, but also just another blockbuster.
-Willi

Ray Wylie Hubbard and Marcus Borg with a little Buffett in Between

2006-05-16T20:01:00.000-05:00
When I graduated from high school I left Little Rock for college at the University of Oklahoma. My first weekend in Norman found me attending an outdoor concert. The affair began quite slowly and then the wind picked up. Speaker towers were tumbling and tarps were blowing. The roadies called out for help and help we did. Then it rained. My buddy and I managed to stay around back stage and under stage out of the rain, but blending in. At one point a roadie called for security because an audience member refused to leave the dry refuge under the stage. When security arrived they addressed my buddy and me. The roadie spoke up and said, “No, they work here”. So we tried to make it look like that.

Eventually it cleared and the show went on. We spent our time looking busy and chatting with performers. I will always cherish listening to the late John Hartford tell stories before he went on stage to do a show I had seen from the front on more than one occasion. And then there was the new up and coming songwriter with songs like My Love Lies Waiting Behind Door Number 3 and Pencil thin Mustache who later wrote the great hit Margaritaville. Yes folks, I met Jimmy Buffet in 1974. He was holding a Martin guitar and a fifth of Weller’s Whiskey by the neck. The next day the weather was worse and the show was canceled. But, we were roadies so we went into the city (Oklahoma City that is) for a little private party. I sat down to play spades with a few bearded fellows and boldly said that I would set one who was going for nil. I did! Later I learned I had been playing cards with Rusty Wier and Ray Wylie Hubbard.

Jerry Jeff Walker had a hit at the time called “Up Against the Wall Redneck Mother”. It was sort of an anthem in the cosmic cowboy, outlaw music scene and it was penned by Ray Wylie Hubbard. Time past and apparently it did not go so well for Ray for awhile and then it turned around. He is now known as the guru of the Austin music scene. He is one of those artists who has experienced God’s grace and does not mind sharing it with other musicians though he isn’t the “preachy” type.

In the 21st century I find myself reading lots of theological type books. Not because I’ve become one of the “preachy” types, but more because like Ray Wylie Hubbard I am beginning to learn about grace and have found a nice little congregation that is all about grace. Recently we have read Marcus Borg’s Heart of Christianity where he describes the emerging paradigm of Christianity. One of the attributes of the emerging paradigm is embracing pluralism. In short the emerging paradigm does not see Christianity as a system of requirements and rewards -sort of believe in Jesus and get a free pass to heaven. Of course requirements and rewards negate grace. You can not love all and accept all if there are requirements. Either there is grace or there are requirements, not both. As a result the emerging paradigm accepts the validity of other religions. God will save us all.

Ray Wylie Hubbard explains the logic of this in terms that everyman can understand. In a song from Crusades of the Restless Knights called “Conversation with the Devil” he tells the story of a dream in talking blues fashion. He finds himself in hell and bewildered about why he is there.

Now I said, “I made some mistakes but I’m not as bad as those guys.
How can God do this to me can’t you sympathize?”
He said, “You’re wrong about God being cruel and mean
God is the most loving thing that’s never been seen.”
I said, “Well, hot shot, tell me this, which religion is the truest?”
“They’re all about the same” he said, “Buddha was not a Christian,
But Jesus would have made a good Buddhist.”
--Ray Wylie Hubbard
From the memories past and present of Willi.

Derby Day

2006-05-06T21:37:00.000-05:00
The first Saturday in May, Kentucky Derby Day! A day I always enjoy. As a kid I loved horses, as teenager I rode horses and off and on through adulthood the opportunity to ride or be around horses presented itself and I cherished each one.

Growing up in Arkansas I was aware of horse racing a bit. My dad was an avid horse racing fan. During the month of February he spent his Saturdays driving from Little Rock to Hot Spring so he could go to Oak lawn race track. He would return home with a racing form and read the strange sounding names of thorough bred horses that had run that day. He would hand over a deck of betting slips. They were always a pale yellow, green or pink with words like win, place, or show. I quickly learned that you could come in first, second or third or you could win, place or show. I spent many Sundays playing on the front porch with those cards sometimes cheering for an imaginary horse in an imaginary race. And I always won and the horse always paid big.

Later in life I knew someone who raised Arabian horses. I would go to the barn in the afternoons and help with chores. Cleaning the stalls and feeding the horses hay and oats. We would open the barn gate and these wonderful animals would run down the center and into their stalls. I made a connection between horse racing and farming. It seems to be a thing that went deeper than my dad betting on a Saturday.

It has become my personal tradition to watch the Kentucky Derby each year. To smoke a very nice cigar –a Butera, a Jose Maritnez or an Arturo Feunte- a Churchill that would last from “the call to the gate” to end of the race.

My dad always said the best President was Franklin D. Roosevelt. It had a lot to do with the effects of the depression. I think I knew all about the W.P.A. before I entered the third grade. I remember taking my kids camping in Arkansas to Long Pool in the U.S. Forest area where there had been a W.P.A. camp. Yes, of course I attempted to teach them about the W.P.A. and Roosevelt.

This year after the Derby I found myself watching Seabiscuit. There is a scene where they serve the “red headed” jockey soup and it flashes to the soup kitchens of the depression era. The narrator says something to the effect of “it was a time when someone finally cared.” I found myself wondering how the country had changed from programs that expressed care, programs that even conservatives like my dad believed in to programs that people begrudgingly support. Sometimes you hear people talk about how “those” people take advantage of the system. Perhaps the difference is that the depression affected the dominant classes and now our social programs are perceived as benefiting minorities. When confronted with the data that shows this is not true we fall back on the myth that anyone could make it if they just put forth the effort.

We seem to live in a time when gas prices are out of sight and young people can not seem to get started on their own because the minimum wage is so low and the rent is so high. Even in the face of this data some of us cling to the conservative mantra that anyone can make it if they try. So we complain about the government programs of assistance and how it drives up our taxes. We read about the lack of health insurance among working and nonworking people. We complain about the cost of our own health insurance. And we resist any plans for universal health care because someone may take advantage of such a program. Where is the grace in that?

-Willi

Grace for All and Grace Above All

2006-05-03T21:21:00.000-05:00
When I was in Bolivia for three years the government changed six times. With each coupe the government insisted that all persons in the country with a visa report to immigration for an update. Usually this meant reporting to the immigration office and standing in line and then proceeding to a minimum of three desks and receiving three stamps. You were good to go after that.

My final year there -1980 if memory serves me well- there were elections. These elections were preceded by some anti-American sentiment expressed by the dynamiting of the American Consulate and ending with a shoot out! It started in the plaza where the government buildings were located and moved towards the airport, as was the norm for taking a city during a coupe. I lived between the two locations! For protection I removed the mattress from the bed and went into the hallway away from any windows and waited. The next day we had a new government.

Those of us on visas were ordered to update them, but this time the location was near the plaza as opposed to the usual little government office. The line was longer than usual and the wait as well. While in the line, about three people in front of me there was a man a little older than my father. That would be my father, who lied about his age and ate bananas to increase his weight so he could get in the Navy and get out of trouble and fight the Japs in WW II. With nothing to do but watch people I notice that this man had two passports, a “modern day” German passport and a drab green passport with a prominent swastika.

My body seemed to tense and I never really took my eyes off the old guy, but never really looked at him. It was like all those Combat shows I watched on t.v. as a kid were haunting my rationality. I immediately sensed the evil. I mean, this was South America with all the legends about Nazis escaping there at the end of WW II. And one was right in front of me! I could sense that he knew I was onto him and he was uncomfortable. He “stamped out”. Then I “stamped out”. I don’t recall him leaving and do not know if he cared when I left.

Later that year the government needed money so they handed Klaus Barbie over to the French. They had taken him into custody and boarded him on a plane in La Paz. It made Newsweek and Time, both of which we could buy on the newsstands –and I did. Looking at the pictures of Klaus Barbie I realized that the old man I saw in the immigration line was him. I read the article and discovered that he ran a restaurant and recruited young people into a neo Nazi group. The restaurant was one our favorites –good beer and food and lots of jokes about neo Nazis in the Club Bavaria that now were not so funny.

Today I find that experience colliding with my developing theology. I have recently read If Grace is True, Why God Will Save Every Person by Philip Gulley and James Mulholland. They do not believe in hell and believe that God’s grace will save everyone.

Now Hell was an easy one for me. I never really bought into the idea except for when I had to read Dante’s Inferno. I recovered and figured Hell could not possibly be real. The grace for everyone concept seems to “jive” with my belief in God’s love.

But, what about Klaus Barbie! Gulley and Mulholland deal with it in a transforming kind of way. I recently heard them speak with a panel of religious folks. One of the panel described a situation of seeing your life before you as it effected others. Something like Klaus Barbie experienced the evil he had done to others just as they had and this would lead to a transformation. I recall Gulley and Mulholland expressing it in similar fashion.

I believe in universal grace. God will save everyone. We all come home to God. We may not come home in the same fashion that we left. We may realize that our life has not been filled with grace, but God will love us all the same.

If we all realized God’s grace in the present and lived it each and everyday, then the world would be a better place for everyone and the kingdom of God would have begun.

--Willi

Chicha and the Leper Colony

2006-04-22T21:22:00.000-05:00
In the Bible we read how Jesus healed the lepers. And they are everywhere in the Good Book. As a kid this was a curiosity to me. Ila Jane, my older sister, explained that leprosy was a skin disorder that left the individual disfigured and that it was contagious. As I read the Bible I feared that Jesus would catch it!

As a teenager the movie Papillon starring Steve McQueen and a buttlerfly chest tattoo came out. He was escaping from a prison island that it was impossible to escape from. He got a boat from some lepers at a nearby colony. The “chief” leper was smoking a cigar and handed it to Steve McQueen as a test. Steve McQueen took a drag off the leper’s cigar and returned it to which the leper said something about the difference between contagious leprosy and non-contagious leprosy. Something my man Steve knew about just looking into his disfigured face.

According to Wikipedia leprosy is known as Hansen’s disease and it can be treated with antibiotics. “Historically, leprosy was greatly feared because it caused visible disfigurement and disability, was incurable, and was commonly believed to be highly contagious.”

When I was in Bolivia in the seventies the country had a “faith based” initiative for the handicapped and otherwise incapacitated. It appeared to me to work like this:

The man with no legs would ride his “scooter board” to the doors of the Catholic Church. There he would sit all day with a hat or a cup and collect whatever pesos people would drop in there.

The treatment of lepers was a bit more sophisticated since they lived in colonies outside of town.

Another custom in Bolivia was to fly a white flag if you had chicha to share. Chicha is a fermented beverage made from a specific kind of yellow maize. It has a pale straw color and a milky appearance with sour aftertaste. According to Wikipedia it contains a slight amount of alcohol, like 1 -3%.

Wikipedia goes on to tell what I heard about “traditional” chicha when I was in Bolivia:

“In some cultures , in lieu of germination of the maize for release of the starches in the maize, the maize is ground, moistened in the chicha maker's mouth and formed into small balls which are then flattened and laid out to dry. The diastase enzyme in the maker's saliva releases the starch in the maize.”

One Saturday our principal, Bill Fennell, loaded us into the VW microbus and took us along the highway to Cochabamba. We went to see some anicient ruins. The ruins appeared to me to be a type of irrigation system. But according to some popular book at the time it was suspected to be a “landing spot for aliens” or something like that. Along the dirt highway there we passed a place Bill, who had come to Bolivia as a member of the Franciscan Order, said was a leper colony.

On our return, the leper colony was flying a white flag, -that would be the “Chicha Flag”. Bill sugested we stop. We did…

We were served a pitcher of “milky” looking stuff. We sat in the shade of of thatched roofed hut and drank our chicha from small glasses. I couldn’t help but think of Jesus and the lepers. But I had the knowledge of Papillon to ease my mind.

The Chicha that the lepers served seemed to be just “milky” not intoxicating like the tall tales of chicha that I heard. Of course about an hour later it hit…and what a new reality!

I am not sure that Wikipedia is correct about the 1-3% alcohol because I sure was speaking in tongues that night! But, one thing I did learn, Jesus and Steve McQueen were pretty well right about that leprosy thing because even today my wife thinks I’m good looking.

--Willi

The Same Bell Tolls...

2006-04-20T22:43:00.000-05:00

When I graduated from the University of the Razorbacks in the late seventies I had very realistic job aspirations. I sent letters of inquiry to every small school district in western Montana and southern Idaho that I could find. I also applied at all three American schools in Bolivia where I had done some of my student teaching. I ended up in Santa Cruz, Bolivia where I had many adventures.

South America was an interesting place in the late seventies. I lived in Bolivia for three years and lived through at least six different presidencies or dictatorships more accurately. I also traveled some. I went to Chile and north to Peru. This was a trip with many tales to be told later.

In Peru I stayed in Arequipa. I awoke early in the morning to find the plaza filled with tanks and military. Later, I learned that Arequipa was the birth place of the Shinning Path Guerillas. From there I went to Cuzco and took the train to Machu Pichu.

Recently I discovered a Texas songwriter, Sam Baker, who had also traveled to Cuzco. His trip was later in the 80’s, but he took the same train to Machu Pichu and he also encountered the Shinning Path Guerillas. His experience was not a good one.

The train that Sam Baker was riding was blown up by the Shinning Path Guerillas. He was injured very badly and many people died. He writes about the experience in a song, but I think he writes about God as well.

Sam Baker writes:

"Sitting on the train to Machu Pichu
The passenger car explodes
Not enough time to say good bye
Not enough time to know
What’s gone wrong?"

He goes on to say that “smoke rises through the roof and the dead say fare thee well.”

The heart of the song for me, the part that seems to be about God says:

"No one is just an observer
The same bell tolls for the served and the server
For the strong, the weak
For weary and the brave
Everybody ride come judgment day"

Having ridden trains, buses and trucks across the high plains of South America I can imagine what the people that Sam Baker encountered were like. I am certain that some struck him as kind and worthy and others seemed undeserving. Yet, from his experience he writes that the same bell tolls for all and “everybody rides come judgment day”.

He came closer to death than I have come and his song tells about the experience. I tend to agree with the lyrics of his song and take it to mean that God loves everyone and the same bell will toll for each and everyone.

I do not know if that was what Sam Baker really meant to say, but it is what he said to me. This is the same message that Philip Gulley and James Mulholland seem to have in If Grace is True, Why God Will Save Every Person. It makes sense to me and as my friend, Mahlon, says, ‘How could a parent damn their children to hell?” God loves everyone and everyone will ride on judgment day. It’s a little thing called Grace.

--Willi

For more about Sam Baker check the link out on the side bar.

The Easter Bunny’s a Thief…..

2006-04-14T19:02:00.000-05:00
Easter was confusing to me as a kid. I knew too much about biology and not enough about theology.

For me it was all about Easter eggs –hunting and dying. We would dye hard boiled eggs the Saturday before Easter. It was a real family event. We would hide them, find them and crack ‘em on each other’s heads, peel the shells off and eat ‘em. Our family was so notorious for crackin’ those eggs on each other’s heads that Bill Lemon did not suspect a thing.

We boiled all the eggs but one. We dyed them all including the one that was not boiled. I went outside and found Mr. Bill and asked him if I could crack that egg, the one that wasn’t hard boiled, on his head. Unsuspecting he took his huntin’ hat off and CRACK! Yolk was dripping from his head.

But I really could not understand the logic of the pagan tradition. According to Ila Jane, my older sister, the Easter Bunny hid the eggs. With my vast knowledge of biology I knew that rabbits were mammals and therefore gave birth to live young and were good for huntin’.

So where did the Easter Bunny get the eggs? The only way to reconcile this was to conclude that the Bunny stole ‘em.

When I got older we started going to church on days besides Easter Sunday. I learned about the passion of Jesus. I understood that Easter was really about Jesus dying on the cross so I would be forgiven for my sins. I know this now to be blood atonement.

During my college years and sometime after, I was struck by many questions concerning theology. Science took over and I just couldn’t quite accept all of it beyond being tradition.

As I hit the half century mark I have found myself thinking differently about Easter. It seems to me that Jesus was extremely wise about God and saw it all as compassion. He was quite the insurgent talking about the kingdom of God as opposed to the kingdom of Rome. He paid for it. And having been executed, his teachings lived way beyond his time. It is the way that I choose to live, attempting to show compassion for others.

--willi

2006-04-14T17:43:00.000-05:00