What a Nice Bunch of People...

Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo there +-) hadn't had a bad cold for quite a while and I guess she missed it some so she heard her sister in San Francisco had one so she went to SF and her sister willingly and lovingly shared hers with Donna; and Donna brought it home. Frankly, I didn't think she really needed a bad cold right now but, you know women. When they really want something, you may as well accept it.

Anyhow, to make a long story short, she wasn't in very good condition when she got here and we were supposed to play a gig at Frontier Hall in Anderson the next morning for an hour and a half. Well, (again) guess what? We were committed to do the job and there wasn't time to cancel so I decided to do it without Donna.

I loaded up my equipment and went to the hall and started setting it up. I was hoping the folks wouldn't notice Donna not being there but, right away, one of the younger folks (a seventy four year old lady) saw I was alone and axed about Donna so I had to tell them Donna was sick and couldn't make it. They oooohhhed and aaahhhed some and offered condolences and stuff so I got started as quickly as I could.

I used my harmonizer with some of the songs and the gig went pretty well.

When I was finished, I went to a table to have the lunch they offered me and, as I started to put it away, a lady came over to me and handed me a card with the name, "Donna Lee," on it. I thanked her for what I thought would be a, 'Sorry you're sick,' card.
When I got home, I gave it to Mi Espousa (a bit more Mex lingo here) and she opened it. To our surprise and pleasure, it was, indeed, a get well card (ain't it cute!)and it had been signed by all thirty or so people at the hall, with a condolence wish from most of them! How sweet and thoughtful!
Well, even though the job is for charity, the appreciation shown by the old folks there makes it well worth doing!

Janey, the manager come over and assured me that the job would be there for us in a month when we get back from our 'Trek to Texas' (with stopovers at Albuquerque, New Mexico, Omaha Nebraska and Sioux City, Iowa) vacation. We appreciate folks who are thoughtful as are these folks and we enjoy entertaining them. (And we enjoy the eight or ten bucks in tips)

Later...

Well...

It's happening again. Bummer. Oh, well, that's the way it goes. Mi Espousa, La Donna d'el Nebraska (a little Mex lingo here)is gone.

No, no! She ain't dead! She's gone to San Francisco to visit her sister, Janice! Boy, now there's a pair to draw to, if there ever was one!

She goes there from time to time to see her sister, a woman about as ringy as she is. Janice used to be a street woman, pushing her cart around the city streets, collecting things to take to her 'Hooch,' as she called her cardboard and sheet tin house.

She used to live on the beach but she had to move because she got too tired having to move her 'hooch' every time the tide came in! Go figure!
Now Janice lives in a really nice little apartment on Treasure Island, thanks to Californias' understanding welfare system.

I guess I'll spend my time writing songs and trying to figure out how this harmonizer works. It's a machine that puts in harmony to my voice when I sing into it.

However, it could sound better; much better! Except, when I decided to edit some pre-set programs, I found around 16, 000 different settings I would need to adjust. I lost it at three! Go figure!

But, I won't give up. Donna will be gone several days and, except for watching the San Francisco Forty Niners and the Oakland Raiders get beat playing football, (oops, that was last year) I'll use that time to figure this thing out. My big brother is coming over tomorrow to watch the football games with me. That'll be nice.

I tell ya', it sure gets long here alone. I used to have Chico the Wonder Dog to 'look' at when Mi Espousa was gone but now it's just me and I don't have all those witty things to say to entertain myself.

I used to think the things Chico the Wonder Dog said (looked) were just idle conversation. But now I realize his witticisms were purposely molded to entertain me while Donna was gone. What a dog!

Later...

9/11...We Will Never Forget...

The image of the three New York City firemen hoisting the American flag at Ground Zero just hours after the worst-ever attack on U.S. territory...

For their sake and all the people who died, killed by the Muslim Cowards, remember who our Enemy is!

Later...

'Oops'..Did It Again...

Well, I did it again,-read some in my journal; the story of my life. Each time I do this, I am tempted to post an adventure in my blog,-and I usually succumb to that temptation. So, here it is, a little bit of my past!

”…Mother took me to register for the first grade in Galen Clark Grammar School in the autumn of 1940. The school officials said I had to be five years old to start so Mother took me back in January of 1941 and enrolled me in the first grade. I finished the first grade that year and advanced to the second grade when I was still five years old.

The following year just before school started, Mother took me to the school cafeteria to get my shots. I don’t remember what the shot was for but I know it must have been terrible because every kid there was whimpering or crying out loud in anticipation of the shot. Mom and I got in line and I didn’t have enough sense to be scared so I just went along with line until I reached the nurse who was giving the shots. She smiled at me and told me to roll up my sleeve and I did. She gave me the shot and it stung a little but I didn’t flinch or cry. She looked up at my mother and said,” My, what a brave little Man!” Mom said,” Yes he is.”

Floyd Bue, who would later be my stepbrother, also went to Galen Clark School. Floyd had a high squeaky voice and, although he was a tall boy for his age and as physical as he should be for his height, he was timid and afraid of just about anyone who wanted to terrorize him.

There were a lot of Mexicans enrolled in school and three of them liked to wait for Floyd and pick at him as he was walking home from school.

The last time they made him cry, he told them that his brother was going to start school soon and they had better watch out. I started awhile later and sure enough, on the way home that first day, the Mexican kids were waiting for him. Floyd was taller than I was but I was fatter than he was and that made me seem bigger.

Floyd told me ahead of time about the boys and we were ready for them. When they approached us, one of them said,” Is that your brother?” and Floyd said it was and he is tough. The boy walked over to me and asked how tough I was and I punched him in the mouth. He started running away from us and the other two followed him. They never bothered us again.

Floyd and I spent a lot of time together and we never bothered anyone and, after that incident, no one bothered us again.

I vaguely remember a water tower we climbed. I don’t remember what we did on it; I think just looked around. I thought up most of the things Floyd and I did together and he usually just went along with them.”

Boy, for those good old days of innocence! They pass too swiftly and are not enjoyed to their fullest until the wheel of life has almost rolled all the way over! Thank God for a healthy old age and an excellent memory!

Later…