So much information, so little history

I was chatting with a young lady in Seattle while we were trying to set up my appointment to see a local chiropractor. The VA allows for this when it's not practical to make the 30 mile drive into Houston for what can be done locally.

She asked me how the weather was in "Texas" and I immediately figured correctly that she envisioned a steaming desert with saguaro cactus springing up around the rocky terrain, replete with rattle-moccasins. For just an evil second, I almost went off in that direction, but I told her it was raining here on the Gulf Coast and about 80 degrees.

"It's raining there?" were her surprised words. I told her, "I am in beautiful Baytown". She'd never heard of it. I asked if she had heard of Exxon-Mobil and she said he had. I told her that is here. "We are near it and our west side is the Houston Ship Channel."  She had never heard of it. "It's very close to Houston."

"Oh, Houston, the hurricane place!" By this time I can tell she has pulled it up on her computer because she comments that "You are indeed on the water!" She tells me the chiropractor I will be scheduled to see is on Massey Tompkins and she gets that right, but when she says "San Jacinto Chiropractic", she butchers it badly. I explained how it is pronounced and tell her it is like the Battle of San Jacinto, where Sam Houston defeated General Santa Anna.

It is dead quiet on the other end and I ask her if she has heard of these men. "No. I have not." I explain that Sam Houston beat the Mexican army nearby to secure Texas independence in 1836 and the city of Houston is named after him. "Of course you remember the Alamo, right?"  There is total silence on the other end. I couldn't help myself at this point, and I hope my readers forgive me, but I all but screamed, "Didn't you ever watch Pee-wee's Big Adventure where he went to the Alamo to look for his stolen bike?" 

"Nope, never heard of it." I wanted to tell her there is no basement in the Alamo, but let it go.

"Yea, the Alamo where Davy Crockett died?" She giggled and I almost swallowed my tongue.

"Who?" At this point I stopped asking questions because my blood pressure felt like Dandy Don's Grand National doing a 40-yard burnout. I backed off as she was no longer a person to question, but a victim of our American history instructors. I told her to grab a pencil, which I knew would be a pen, right? "Write this down.  Alamo, Houston Ship Channel, Battle of San Jacinto, Davy Crocket, Sam Houston..." and then I told her to Google "Baytown Bert" just for grins. Note: I told her I am a famous highly respected writer. Why not, right?

We finished our conversation and I gave her my email addy and told her to let me know what she'd learned and she thanked me and said she actually really hungers for knowledge. I respect that. The only reasons people don't learn is they think they can't, have inept teachers, incorrect material, or simply don't want to.

I watched a number of videos on YouTube where college students were asked simple history questions, like "Who won the civil war?" and believe it or not, most of them had never heard of it. What? I would think a more realistic question that might stump people would be, "Name one of the years that the civil war was fought?" The answer is 1861-1865 by the way, but these college students did not recall it... period. Try something like this on students and you may get a correct answer. Give me the question to this answer: Executive, Legislative, Judicial. Answer: What are the 3 branches of government?

They may get that one right, but what is the old curse concerning history? "Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it." General George Patton was so effective as a strategist because he studied all the ancient battles and understood the hardships of the terrain, along with why a general failed or succeeded. On the other hand, we have a lot of George Custer's in the land who rush in where they shouldn't, because they have forgot history. "Uh, who is George Patton?"

I hope my short brush with this young lady spurs her on to a greater understanding of our country's history. We watch the news every day and see the signs that many have no clue where we came from.

As a final little note, I want to acknowledge that Tom Petty died and I have always been a big fan.  RIP Tom Petty (and the Heartbreakers). He is a big part of Southern rock history.

The seasons, they are a changin’

Bob Dylan - The times they are a changin'

It was 68 degrees outside this morning when I stepped out to let my doggies do their morning ablutions. I looked at the stars and breathed in the cool nostril pleasing air. I guess Summer is finally over and it’s been a hot one. Hunting season is right around the corner and in times past I would already have my license.

October is one of my favorite months here on the Gulf Coast. I love the sunny dry days where I can go outside and not be covered in sweat. Come Springtime, May is like that.  There is a correlation between the changing seasons and the social environment which has devolved. Yea, I said devolved, because that is the way I see it and I can safely say others feel the same. In many ways our social interaction with strangers has taken a step backwards.

Whereas I welcome the changing of the seasons and the cooler air, I don’t necessarily feel the same way about some trends in our country. One of them is the erroneous sense of privilege that seems to be cancerously growing. Rude manners or no manners at all are becoming so common; no one even expects anything else. When someone waits to hold a door, 15 strangers rush through like rabid linebackers. I witnessed this at El Toro’s, not too long ago. 

In fact, I was the one holding the door.

In my front yard are thousands of little pine cone chips scattered on the sidewalk and street. In case you haven’t noticed, we have a bumper crop of tree rats. Our only hope of keeping these litterbugs in control is their bizarre propensity to run under a moving car. At one time I would sit in the woods and try to harvest as many of these tasty animals as I could. Now, I only clean up after them. They don’t even notice the mess they are making or the work it takes to make the ground clean.

A month or so ago, I was parked on the side of Sjolander Road repairing a geocache I have there close to the historic marker. There is no road shoulder, so I was very close to the edge of the road at the back of my Jeep. A car came by slowly and stopped in front of my vehicle. Hanging out the window on a leash was a white pit-bull weighing about 40 pounds.

A man came around the front of the car and angrily threw the dog back inside, cursing in Spanish at the jaw-snapping carnivore. “Your dog jumped out the window?” I beckoned. He looked at me and said something that made my short hair stand up.

“No, he was jumping to get you!” He didn’t apologize, but drove off and I stood in shock.  I would have had no chance against this dog, as my handgun was in my Jeep. Never mind that the guy didn’t care about my safety. Never mind that he didn’t roll up the window. Never mind that I was that close to being mauled or killed. I doubt he even thought about it.

On a regular basis I pick up trash. As a geocacher, it is something most all of us do in this high-tech game. We visit a sight where a geocache is hidden and we pick up trash as we leave. Collectively, this is tens of thousands of tons of trash picked up all over the world. Yes, uncaring people throw stuff out the windows of their cars and trucks and it doesn’t matter to them who sees it. Prior to about 1970, this was a common practice. What has happened that people feel free to do it again?

I often wonder what their reaction would be if a couple bags of trash were scattered across their property on a weekly basis. It would probably be the same reaction a thief gets when someone steals from them, which of course is anger. I watch how people drive every time I get in my Jeep and my bride tells me I should simply ignore their poor driving habits. Maybe so, but it appears that anyone can get a license these days. The only people I see who have an excuse of sorts are the elderly.

I am looking forward to those cool nights when camping is enjoyable and plan to camp in about a week. Like last year, I’ll most likely deer hunt in the Hill Country and like last year, I’ll most likely watch many deer pass in front of me, aim, and not shoot. I’ve killed enough animals for a lifetime and I have enough money to buy processed food. I’ll leave these animals to those who still enjoy taking game.

The changing of the seasons is a good thing, but when it comes to society, we need to proceed with extreme caution. Unlike the predictability of our seasons, too many changes too quickly cannot possibly be a good thing. I’m fearful many of the changes we’ve experienced in the last 6-7 years will be our undoing.

.

It’s Been a Hot One!

“It’s hotter than fusion” was a favored saying of my late father-in-law, Willard Reneau and this year he would have said it often. I don’t have research material handy on this year’s summer temperatures, but it seems like it has been hotter than what has been normal. Normal. What does that even mean in Baytown and the Texas Gulf Coast?

One of my brothers, TJ Bustem, has finally had enough and has openly declared that he “ain’t doing anything more outside” until this dadgum heat falls off to something bearable. It’s been hot and humid and since it hasn’t been raining like normal, where is all this humidity coming from anyway? I reckon it’s the Gulf. TJ Bustem is one of those rare people who ride a bike a hundred miles and is a ride Marshal for the MS-150 and when he says it’s too hot to ride, it’s too hot.

I have a secret source that tells me TJ is still riding, but he’s mad because it’s so hot. I know it’s slowed me down on hiking, biking and trekking. I love being outside and I love the sunshine and believe it or not, I love the hot temperatures, but enough already!

My Shih Tzu doggie doesn’t like it either and my yard looks like a lawn in Mogadishu. Well, like I think a lawn over in Somalia would look like - minus the burned out cars and tires. My water bill has almost hit two hundred bucks as we struggle to keep our landscaping alive and these nightly faux rainstorms are getting on my nerves also. Who do I talk to to get some rain over in Chaparral Village? I have some new trees to grow, thanks to Hurricane Ike and this smattering of rain drops ain’t gonna get it.

After years and years of sacrifice, we put in a beautiful pool last year and thanks to the radiant heat from our nearest star, it has become a giant sauna. I’m thinking of throwing a hundred and forty four eggs in there and boil them cheaply for next Easter. It’s so hot I’m putting an ice cube under each arm before I jump in and replacing them before they melt (in less than five minutes).

For the first summer I can remember, I am switching my car A/C to recirculation, rather than bringing in fresh air. I always bring in fresh air to keep from having a build-up of mold spores and that dreaded smell of mildew, but even though my A/C works like a charm, it is simply not enough to keep the heat down before I get in from work.

Every fiber in me wants to shift blame to that no-good Al Gore for inventing Global Warming, but I am not a vindictive person by nature, so I refuse to give in to the urge to blame that dirt bag, or speak or write anything negative about the lout.

I’m half expecting to have a visitation by an alien predator this summer. They only show up when it’s really hot and this summer easily qualifies.

Oh! We had a Bigfoot scare at the Plant this past week! Talk about a bunch of people in an uproar. I even let out a wee, but quite masculine, scream, as embarrassing it is to admit. Turned out it was a false alarm. One of our “Winnie Boys” had taken off his shirt. My Liberty buddy wanted to throw a saddle on him.

The good news is we are now in Zone 10! We can grow tropical plants and fruits. Forever we were in Zone 9, but thanks to you-know-who, we can now safely grow the good stuff. It’s a silver lining. Okay. Thanks Al Gore. There. I said it. Dagnabbit!

Oak Island post Hurricane Ike

Note: I received this email from one of my brothers and decided it was so timely, I needed to post it for all to read.

Yesterday I rode my bike from Fort Anahuac down to Oak Island and back. It was a real shocker. Oak Island is a small community consisting of about 350 homes, of which Hurricane Ike wiped out about 90%. When FEMA pulled out of here these small communities where left to fend for themselves. I’m thankful for FEMA but like any government run organization, they are going to the high profile places first because that is where the politicians get the most recognition.

Now don’t get me wrong, this was not a bunch of shacks nor was it a bunch of mansions. It was just a nice little mix of working folks living there lives on the bay. They even have their own winery. It was several months before electricity and water was restored there. FEMA has since moved back in to help these folks out and that’s what it’s all about.

I rode over there last year shortly before the storm hit so the view of what it used to look like was still fresh on my mind. What caught my eye first was at the church when you first enter town. A large tent was set up and it was obvious that it there to prepare food. I first thought they were having a bazaar or other activity but it looked a little too permanent.

Now I was kind of apprehensive about riding through here because I knew these people were hit pretty hard and I didn’t want to look like I was there to gawk at their problems. When your house looks like the siding was removed with a large can opener and all your possessions are exposed it is a very humbling experience and I wasn’t about to intrude into their privacy.

I took the first road the headed out of town and made my way back to Anahuac. As soon as I turned the corner I saw a lady exiting a large white trailer. There weren’t any windows on this trailer, only a door on each end with a small set of stairs.

As I got closer I notice the sign that said “Ladies Room and Showers”. There are still numerous signs of destruction and many people lost everything except what they managed to take when they left. There are still people living in tents that are rebuilding their homes and these people are working together to make it through the storm, even though it was eight months ago. TJ Bustem (brother of Baytown Bert)