It’s the Little Things, Man

No one can say the word “man” like Dennis Hopper. He’s the quintessential biker hippie 70’s freak dude and when he uses the word “man’ in a movie or commercial, he says it with all the peace-love-dope inflection I remember the word deserved in its time. He said it the way I said it.

Yesterday I was hiking up to the top of a giant reactor structure. It was hot and there was little wind. To set the scenario, it was a slow weekend day with nothing to do, so I decided I would see if I could break my personal record of five back to back climbs of 326 steps. On my sixth and last ascent, I was noticeably tired and quite hot and realized the wind had ceased to blow. This particular ascent was cooking me. As I neared the top, I muttered a plea to the good Lord for a breeze and within seconds a light wind came up. It was little, but it was enough.

I’ve been working non-stop since my son’s funeral, clocking in just shy of fifty days in a row with one exception on May 20th. It’s been doable and it’s helped occupy my mind and pay expenses, but the scenery hasn’t changed and that is something I miss. Opening my lunchbox the other day I found a small love letter from my bride. My lunch tasted extra good that day.

At the Byrd Sanctuary out Dayton way, my family gathered for a crawfish festival, one of many gatherings my sister and brother-in-law stage for friends and family at their place. As we talked, laughed and ate, an American swallow-tailed kite flew over their property. This giant predatory bird with a four-foot wingspan caused all of us to stop and stare as it performed its beautiful aerial ballet. We are still talking about it days later.

Last night my folks came by for a visit and as we sat on the patio, we were delighted to see a pair of black-bellied whistling ducks fly over Chaparral Village. I was happy we were there at that moment to witness this display. It was a little thing and I enjoy life in bite-sized form.

I recently combined two passions: Sriracha hot sauce and bean, cheese and jalapeno tamales from Los Torito’s on N. Main. I drove in from work about 4:15pm and was greeted by the owner, Llyda Martinez. I told her about my new addiction (Sriracha hot sauce) and how I was anxious to try it on her made in Baytown scrumptious tamales. She said she was familiar with the potent Am-Viet concoction and even though her seasoning of Chile de Arbol peppers is perfect, the Sriracha is calling my name right now. Needless to say I scalded my innards and the already delicious tamales with Sriracha as soon as I got home. It’s a small delight, but it has big satisfaction.

My neighbors Barbara and Craig Pugh cooked us up a mess of pork ribs and dropped them off for no other reason than they are good and generous people. Small acts of kindness weigh in big at our house. Baytown has a lot of folks like this and that’s why I call it home.

My point is simple; it’s the small things, man, that make the world spin right for us, not winning the Lotto, or driving that Hummer H2 that gets our eye. Of course, those would be nice too.

Black Duck Bay Trail System dead in the water

I talked with Neely Nelson today and due to the new Federal security guidelines and the TWIC requirements, ExxonMobil has denied all public access to this area (Black Duck Bay roads/trails area), so my proposal to open it for jogging and bike riding is now officially closed.

Below are the 2 blogs and website documenting the proposal:

http://baytownbert.blogspot.com/2008/07/black-duck-bay-trail-system.html

http://baytownbert.blogspot.com/2008/08/black-duck-bay-trail-system.html

http://www.ourbaytown.com/black_duck_bay.htm

Here is Ms. Nelson's contact information:

Neely Nelson
ExxonMobil Baytown Public Affairs Manager
5000 Bayway
CORP-CAB-E-221
Baytown, TX
(281) 834-7340
(281) 834-2261 fax

All This is Well and Good…But

The city has established a wonderful way to get the word out to citizens by implementing the phone and email Connect-CTY system. “Connect-CTY can send thousands of messages in a matter of minutes; messages that warn of weather related hazards, shelter in place notices, or any other event that would affect the health and safety of Baytown’s citizens”.

All this is well and good and I subscribe to it… however, this is only as good as our ability to receive it, especially after the disaster has wiped out the phone lines, Internet availability and cell phone towers. To me, that is just as or more important than advance warning.

After hurricane Ike, many of us good Baytonians didn't have cell phone coverage or landline phones for days. Our chief means of information was AM radio and that came out of Houston and that was very sporadic and frustrating. Is it just me, or is Baytown often slighted as an unwanted step-child by Houston?

Time and time again, I heard local folks say they wish they could hear just Baytown stuff. When I did hear from the city management, it was welcomed and I knew they were out there, hip deep trying to solve our problems, but I needed to hear more – a lot more. Rumors were flying and since we were told repeatedly to “shelter in place”, we felt like mushrooms (kept in the dark and fed, well, we silently and obediently waited).

The city operates a website located here: http://www.oembaytown.org/prepared.asp

On the Be Prepared page it tells us in five places to make sure we have a radio, a battery operated radio, listen to the radio, keep tuned to the radio or TV (after the hurricane) and again listen to the radio or TV. Is there a radio channel that goes along with this advice?

Moving over to the Greater Baytown Area Local Emergency Planning Committee website, I began shuffling through the pages to find out what I could find for advice on usage of my AM radio information gizmo. http://www.baytownlepc.org/

Under Tools and Emergency Supplies, I found “battery operated radio” and the words at the bottom of the page: “listen to AM 740 or AM 1610”. Reading more on the LEPC website, I found this nugget: “During non-emergency periods, these radio stations air community and school district news, and re-broadcast reports from the National Weather Service. During a chemical release, these stations will continuously repeat instructions about how to Shelter In Place and provide more information as it's available. Because these low-power AM stations operate at only 10 watts, you may need a more powerful radio or outside antenna to hear these broadcasts”.

Okay, folks, here is the solution: what this city needs is an old fashion Radio Truck like they used in the 60's for civil defense. I've emailed the Mayor and City Manager about it, but I don't think it has been given a whole lot of serious consideration. The truck could tie into the emergency horn system and broadcast instructions, pod locations, water advisories, gas station availability, etc. I think a potential mistake in futuristic planning for disasters is making it all complicated and expensive.

I can't see any reason to follow some answer-all disaster complicated paradigm, just because other cities are doing it, when a simple radio truck could be a major line of communication and an easy solution. Does everything have to be complicated these days? Does the solution have to be super high tech? I say no. Do most folks here have an AM radio? I say yes.

I see it as a must have communication link and HAM operators, civic volunteers, and emergency response trained people...whatever, could staff it as their own situation improved. The Mayor, city council and city management could set up a portable tent/building beside it and direct this town personally during any emergency instead of attempting to get broadcast time on KTRH. It is a simple solution folks, so let’s get cracking and make it happen.

The location of the truck could be broadcasted and if volunteer groups wanted to help someone, they could get the message to the truck for broadcast. We Texans love to help needy people, but we have to know where the need is. Warm food, chainsaws, tarps to cover roofs, water, and gas.

I believe this is the answer to the point that I am going to start lobbying for it to be implemented. I might even become a nuisance for the benefit of my fellow confused storm survivors. If there is one thing I learned from Ike, it was how frustrating it was trying to find out what I needed to do in BAYTOWN and I don’t think any of us want to be left in the info-dark the next time and there will be a next time.

BB’s doin’ the Sriracha Cha cha

I have stumbled upon the best hot sauce in the whole wide world! Seriously. I wasn’t even looking for the best hot sauce at the time; I just wanted to bump up my beans a bit and bump them I did. In fact, I did the bumpitty bump. The stuff made me strut like a rooster and I’m not sure, but I think my testosterone level went up, like seven points also.

I say I stumbled upon this (come to find out) well-known bright red volcanic liquid, because no one handed me a bottle and admonished me to try it. To be humble and honest, I stole some of it out of the reefer at work and after nuking my homemade secret recipe pinto bean mélange; I squirted what has always been my normal and palate-safe copious amount of heat-producing culinary elixir hot sauce on top of my ultra-delicious steaming beans and squirted a bit more for “the effect”.

Bellying up to the lunch trough/table, elbows firmly planted in the on-your-mark-get-set...go! position, I dug in with mucho gusto. My first indication that Sriracha (pronounced Sir-rotch-ah) was a tad different than say, Louisiana hot sauce, or Tabasco, was the inordinate amount of gasping, coughing and throat grabbing I found myself involved in. Then to my utter amazement, the lava effect went away almost as fast as it started and I found myself getting a warm feeling throughout my whole body. My toes even twitched, but it was a good twitch.

I cautiously took another bite and danged if it didn’t happen all over again, including the heat up and let down. From that moment on, I was addicted. Everyone I talked to said the same thing “Oh, yea. That rooster sauce is killer, man (dude, fella, fool). Where have I been that I didn’t know about this reddish chili concoction that has seven layers of flavor, including at least two which bring you to the point of asphyxiation and euphoria?

After about three more bites, I experienced an involuntary psychomotor reflex from my tongue to my feet, or what is commonly referred to as “happy feet”. Truth be told, I came this close to breaking into a Texas version of the cha-cha, but seeing how I was in the breakroom at work, I had to settle for heavy toe-twitching inside my steel-toed boots.

I’ve been calling it Vietnamese hot sauce, for lack of education on the subject, but come to find out it is more American than Asian. It’s made and distributed by Huy Fong Foods out L.A. California way and is officially named Tuong Ot Sriracha or Sriracha Chile Sauce. David Tran, a Vietnamese immigrant brought the family recipe with him when he fled South Vietnam during the last days of it’s independence back in 1975 and set up shop here in the USA.

Since I’ve become a fan of Los Toritos tamales on N. Main Street, in historic Baytown, I can’t wait to tump a dab of this delicious concoction on my tamales! In fact, I can’t wait to try this sauce in my homemade BB's Texican chili, which is a work in progress and destined to be a perpetual winner at the family get-togethers at the Byrd Sanctuary out Dayton way. I humbly submit the fact that I won last year in the best traditional category with 2 awards – one of which I gave myself. Like I said, it’s a work in progress and with my new secret rooster–brand weapon, I can say with confidence the future is looking pretty molten and red.

Speaking of chili, I like mine with lots of 1015 onion, or Vidalia if the 1015 is not available. I always throw a handful of pickled jalapenos in the pot too for color and zesty goodness. I like to keep it real. Some well-intentioned folk’s claim that Texas chili should be devoid of beans, but dang it all, I like beans in mine. I like em so much I put red, pinto and black beans in my chili. Call me a rebel if you will, but that’s why I call it BB’s Texican chili. I like to have Fritos handy too and shredded cheese and I might even add crispy bacon as a side dish this next time...and a squirt bottle of Tuong Ot Sriracha aka “the Rooster” so folks can reach Nirvana, or whatever place they are wont to go when food heaven is reached. I might even lay out dancing shoes.

One Long Month Later

One month ago today my world plunged into a place of hellish turmoil. It took twenty-eight days to climb back to the land of the living. Yesterday, I put a gardenia bloom to my nose and it smelled sweeter and more fragrant than it ever did in the past.

Experiencing the king of ironies, one month ago today, I sat in the office of my unit superintendent and finally unloaded my burden for my son’s anguish, his problems concerning post traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and the reason I had taken four weeks of emergency vacation in the first four months of the year. Little did I know that as I talked to my boss, my son was already dead and I would never talk to him again, except in my prayers and memories.

Today, one month later I’ve experienced five nights without constant dreams of Nick and I must say, that that has been a good thing. Although I have avoided feelings of guilt, as I truly believe I did my level best to do and say the right thing to him, some guilt must be shouldered for I missed key trigger points that should have warned me that things were dangerously wrong.

Going back to the year 1972 when I got orders for Vietnam and my World War II Veteran father admonished me to “not do anything over there that I would regret for the rest of my life” and was the exact phrase I repeated to my son before he went to South Korea, then Kuwait and finally Iraq. Just a few days before his demise Nick signed back up for the Infantry in the US Army and repeated “the admonishment” to me, but added this: “Dad, remember what you told me? Well, this time, I’m going to kill them”.

I should have recognized this for what it was, but I blew it off as just…anger. It was anger all right, but the wrong kind. It was the kind that shows a much deeper problem - one that screams out for counseling. I should have recognized the cycle of self-destruction sooner. But, my son had a whole lot of his Dad in him and I guess it’s a Marshall trait also, that we don’t seek counseling – we give it. We are an internalizing group, who suck it up when things don’t go the way we think they should, remaining self-reliant and guess what? It’s not always good for us, or those we love.

Two days ago I finally had a release of pent-up emotion that cleansed and later comforted me. It came over me so suddenly that I just surrendered to it. It was time. I have this crazy notion that grief on my part is selfish and blatant self-pity and I avoided it like the plague. I had the stupid thought that all I’m doing is feeling sorry for myself, like a big baby. It’s stupid and self-destructive and if all of this has taught me anything, it’s that I don’t know anything and grieving is okay. Besides others are grieving and I think their grief is normal.

One month ago I told my wife the same thing I’ve said many times: “I don’t have a single close friend, I just have acquaintances”. My God in heaven was I ever wrong. I have a whole lot of friends, close friends. Friends, who have sacrificed for me and mine. Oh, to go through life and not know what a friend is would be a miserable existence indeed. It’s another thing I didn’t recognize.

One month ago I started to live all over again and it was a painful entry, but now after a month has gone by, the flower blooms smell sweet again and I am surrounded with family and friends that are dearer and more a part of my life than my wildest imagination could have predicted.

Another scam to watch for in Baytown?

I want to alert my fellow Baytonians about an alarming trend I’ve noticed at convenience stores and twice I’ve witnessed it here in town. Beware of any convenience store that does not scan your purchase, but punches in the keys. Know what the basic amount of your purchase items are before you approach the counter, or you can easily be over-charged. Ask for a receipt every time.

On two occasions I questioned the total and both times was asked what the item cost. Both times the counter person refunded the overage with no show of emotion, or objection, leading me to believe this is common practice.

Both stores are now on my do not enter list incidentally, but because it may have been an isolated incident, I will not name the Baytown stores, however, the Shell gas station on S. Hwy 225 past Miller Cutoff Road needs to be watched very closely. The Exxon station on the corner of Massey Tompkins and N. Main always scans every item, so they will continue to get my business.

If anyone has had similar experiences, please email me at baytownbert at gmail.com and I will try to press a formal complaint. Please be as specific as possible.

Incidentally, one of the Baytown stores where this happened is also a Shell gas station. Am I saying that there may be a brotherhood of rip-off artists at Shell stations? No, but consumers need to realize that just because a person is working the counter at a 7-11 or fast food joint, doesn't make them honest. Get that receipt!

April Wasn’t My Best Month

Coming into April 2009, I had no idea what I would be facing, or I would have dug my heels in and did my best to stop the clock. Not that that would have been possible. We field the ball as it’s hit to us and truth be known, if I would have been warned it would be a bad month, I most likely would have girded myself up and took it on the chin; my usual modus operandi.

I see myself as a realist who accepts the world as it literally is and deals with it accordingly. So, all things considered I have to accept April 2009 for what it is both good and bad, sad and happy, awful in it’s wounding of spirit and soul, but beautiful in the incredible support, compassion and love shown to me and mine in this desperate time of mourning and loss over our son’s untimely demise.

Coming to grips with the loss of Nicholas has been the hardest mountain I’ve ever climbed, but climb I must. My own survival depends on it and the lanyard that dangles from my harness allows my bride, daughter, brothers, and sister, Mom and Dad, along with many friends and loved ones to get a grip and the traction they need to make the climb with me.

I am “the Dad” and by definition must lead, regardless of the amount of hardship inflicted upon my family. I am allowed and encouraged to mourn and the incredible volume of loving support has been beyond my deepest imagination, but in the end I must climb and climb I will.

There are many more beautiful sights up this mountain path for us to see and enjoy and I aim to see them with my friends and family at my side. Nick had many friends, many of which are estranged from their parent(s), or missing one or both through like tragedies. I want to be there to help guide them when they need someone.

In April 2009 I became painfully aware of how many people are silently suffering due to personal loss. Many friends and yes, strangers told me stories of loved ones passing and I then realized how common it is for people to carry this awful weight on their shoulders.

When personal loss intrudes into our life, the thought will cross your mind that it is peculiar to you and yours and those immediately impacted – alone, but this is so far from the truth, I can’t even comprehend it. “No man is an island…” is part of a quote by John Donne, an English clergyman back in the 1500’s and one I often quoted to my Army son, who incidentally silently and privately suffered from PTSD – Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from the combat he was involved in, in Iraq.

I didn’t understand his aversion to crowds and often attempted to get him to mingle. I would tell him he owed it to everyone to share his life, but he would withdraw and often disappear from gatherings and I would shake my head. It wasn’t until after his death that I realized it was a behavior pattern he had learned from me.

I should have been preaching to myself, as I was actually the guilty party. When over 600 people came to his funeral I saw for the first time how truly important people are and how we are all part of something greater than ourselves. No one is an island and our friends and family reflect everything we do and say and when they hurt from personal loss, their friends and family hurt also. It starts a rippling effect that can last for years and often does.

No, April 2009 wasn’t all bad and I reckon as time moves on, I’ll see it as more of a spiritual awakening and blessing than I can realize while I’m in its wake.

I am endorsing Mayor Stephen DonCarlos for reelection in Baytown May 9th.

Veterans Day 2008 - Mayor Stephen DonCarlos
I am endorsing Mayor Stephen DonCarlos for reelection in Baytown May 9th. My reasons are actually quite simple. He is amicable, approachable, even tempered and whenever I attend a function or event in this great city, Mayor DonCarlos is there. He has an open door policy and the many times I’ve brought civic concerns to him, he has responded immediately.

Memory Walk Pilot Club 10-14-06 - Mayor Stephen DonCarlos

If I was a Newspaper Publisher

If I published a newspaper, I would be very nervous. I would be more than nervous; I would be scared. Scared that the parent company of my paper would shut down my effort, as well intentioned as it may be and send me packing - literally. Scared that my advertisers would find other options or venues to sell their wares. Scared that subscribers would cancel their subscriptions and move permanently to the Internet, or TV for their news.

How could this happen to our beloved print edition news form? How is it possible that folks would rather look at a boob-tube or monitor instead of holding the classic tried and proven newsprint in their hands? How can a publisher get a handle on this situation and get the word out that the newspaper is still something the future should hold dear? Read on dear reader.

Personally, I love printed material. Personally, I am educated just enough to realize the fantastic mental exercise reading print does to promote a healthy brain. Of course reading is reading, but the printed version, whether it is newsprint, books or magazines are so much more convenient, than say, the Kindle, Amazon.com’s version of an electronic book reader, which incidentally allows owner/subscribers Wikipedia’s many online encyclopedias free at anytime anywhere and is a wonderful resource, but I do not see it as a replacement for the printed newspaper.

Many of us love to sit on the couch in the morning, read the paper quietly with a hot “cuppa Joe” and not be bombarded to buy sandwiches from a guy with a Styrofoam head or car insurance from a stack of money with eyeballs.

How about the millions of American readers who sit on the throne each day and peruse a magazine, inspiration of the day, or John’s Bathroom Reader? Somehow, I can’t fathom a person blurting out “Hurry! Where’s my Kindle? I got to hit the can stat!”. No, we grab that mag or bathroom reader from the bookrack on the floor and perform flawlessly and at our leisure.

As a Publisher of a local newspaper I realize the lifeblood of any community is reflected in the local print and that print is the newspaper and the newspapers future depends on new readers. The more new readers the paper has, the greater its chance of long term stability and this will be reflected in eager advertisement placement by sellers.

The more local information, news stories and commentary/columnists a paper has, the more valuable and informative it is to the local reader. Sidestep this with AP newswire stories and regional/state or federal columns and you basically insult the local guy or gal who wants to know about the parade or car show on Texas Avenue and degrade the paper’s credibility as a local source of information.

So what is the answer Mr. Know it all, says Sherman the pupil?

The solution is to visit every junior school in GCCISD and recruit sixth, seventh and eighth grade reporters for a one day a week extra edition of who is who and what they are thinking. Follow this first set of students through graduation and even college, and at the bottom end, replace the sixth graders as they move up.

Who cares if no other paper in the country is doing this? Who cares if it’s different than anything our city has seen? One thing is for sure, it will breathe new and fresh air into the paper and if one column per teen reporter per month is assigned to cover a particular aspect of the city and it’s resources, so much the better.

So, when do we start?

Picking Up the Pieces and Moving On

On April 16th, my 25 year old son was found dead at a friend’s house, the victim of self-medication directly related to a year of combat in Iraq, 82 combat missions and exposure to 15 IED detonations, one of which wounded him. It’s been the hardest and most difficult time for my wife, daughter, family and friends we have ever experienced.

We knew of his hardship, but were basically helpless to prevent his demise. His battle buddy Sgt. Kenny Horna urged him to seek counsel and anti-depressant medication, but my son felt he could overcome it. This is a wake up call to every parent and wife/husband of a returning combat Vet.

One week has passed and we have decided the best course of action and the only way to get closure and healing is to move on. We are celebrating his life and are looking forward to many beautiful days in our future and I want to thank the hundreds of people who have comforted us in this tragic time.

His military funeral was so beautiful with over 600 people in attendance. The Patriot Guard, the U.S. Army honor detail and VFW Post 912 all contributed and made us proud of his service and even prouder to be called an American.

It has become my mission to help his many young friends through life, many of which are alone, or have suffered terrible hardships themselves.

So, with this said, we are moving on and his memory will live on through his many friends and family members. Nick, we love you Son.

Baytown Bert & Jared see a "sick" sight

Bacon-Wrapped delight with no negatives!

Baytown Bert eats the wickedly taboo and supposedly sinful bacon-wrapped green bean and brown sugar coated delight - with no shame or side-effects, whatsoever! No animals were hurt making this video, but someone killed a pig...thank heaven!

Comments?

Pirates with U.S. hostage vow to fight if attacked?

“Here’s what we should do”, a phrase I am known for. Negotiate, negotiate and negotiate with these Somali pirates and secure the release of the American ship Captain. We have no other safe choice but to meet their demands and it is the right thing to do.

Next, after securing the release of the illegally captured American ship captain, we should blow these people to whatever paradise they believe in with all the cameras rolling. No apologies needed or warranted and we shouldn’t even make a statement – but if one is required, it should be this:

“We do not negotiate or tolerate pirates”. Ahoy?

While I am on the political decision policy stump, I will add my two cents on the shoe-throwing incident concerning our last President, George W. Bush, which incidentally would be my exact reaction if it happened to our current President.

The President of the United States after ducking the shoes, should have walked back to this fellow and knocked his eyeballs so deep into his head, he would have had to have a pair of binoculars to see his watch.

Looking up, he should have remarked, “Oops, I thought protocol was out the window. My bad” and never issue an apology, nope, not one.

Last, but not least, someone needs to remind the President of the United States (current) that whoever is paying the bills calls the shots, whether the recipients like it or not. It’s called a benevolent dictatorship in case his forgetter is getting in the way of making right decisions.

We the people are paying the bills, so quit walking around Europe apologizing for we U. S. Citizens and remind them that we provide the billions of dollars worth of security they enjoy at our expense, since twice in the last century we pulled their bacon out of the fire.

The President of the United States never bows to any potentate or foreign head of state, period.

He needs to look himself in the mirror, then at a map of the United States and remember whom he represents. Semper fidelis U.S.A.

Trail, Road and Sky

Well, it’s been an active three days. Friday, my bride and I traveled to Brazos Bend State Park and hiked the many trails for four hours. It’s only the second time this year we’ve hiked together and it was very pleasant and fulfilling for both of us, at least it was for me.

When two people have been married for thirty-two years, it would appear walking a trail together would be status quo, but truth be told, many folks grow apart over the years and pursue their own agendas apart from their mate. My bride and I have walked many a mile together over the years, but seldom on long hikes, so this is new and exciting territory for us.

I’m pleased to say this was the second successful hike in the last two weeks for us and more are planned. In fact, I hope we hike many more miles in Brazos Bend SP in the next month so we can witness the American Alligator in rut. They are very active at this time and I am hoping we see a big male rumble and ripple the water as it calls females. If I can video it, I will be very pleased indeed.

My Lady is with me on this hiking business, as she knows it is a good thing. I am about three years from sixty and she is approaching fifty. What could be a better decision than walking the trails, looking at nature and getting exercise to boot? Speaking of boots, I ordered her a pair of Columbia Coremic Ridge hiker boots. The temerity! She reminded me this was very personal and I reminded her I knew it was.

I want my Bride to have all the comfort she can get on the trail, so I ordered her three pair of merino wool hiking socks also. Call it cheek if you like, but I call it protective compassion. Banging your feet on the trail bothers the feet and can ruin a hike and it doesn’t matter who you are or what skill level you have. Having good socks and boots makes a big difference in how long you can walk comfortably.

Saturday rolled around and I went down to Texas Avenue for the Bayshore Fine Rides car show in time to watch Mean Gene Kelton and his Diehard band. I had a good chat with former council member Sam Mahan and a couple of other folks, but the best visit was with Ken “the dauber” Pridgeon. Ken’s a local artist and a mover and shaker in the Baytown Art League. He was sitting at a table in front of the old Brunson Theater drumming up signatures to save the old building. Of course, I signed.

Sunday morning, I skipped Sunday School (again! – Lord forgive me!) and geared up for a ride out Beach City way. In my defense, this area is very hostile to cyclists, as there is very little shoulder on the roads and even less tolerance from cars drivers. It’s so bad out there that riding a bicycle is flat-out dangerous. The only safe time to take a long distance ride is on Sunday morning.

I left the house about 9am and made my way down the south side of Business 146 to Kilgore road. Old Kilgore is now new Kilgore and awesome cement. You would have to see it to appreciate how improved this road is. Passing Roseland Park on Texas Avenue, I peddled to Spur 55/Hwy 99 and crossed over Cedar Bayou, stopping to appreciate the view and look to see what changes have been made concerning the proposed Barge Terminal.

On West Bay road, I turned and rode towards the dump, which believe it or not is odorless and actually not a bad ride. Since it was Sunday, there was little traffic and I had the road to myself. The open road and big sky got me to thinking how much I liked wide open spaces. Trail, road and sky…and me. Just the way I like it.

I usually ride straight out Fisher Road to Tri-Cities Beach Road, but the wind was picking up and I knew I was going to be riding into it one way or the other and that long stretch out by Trinity Bay can be murder, so I elected to ride the opposite direction and have most of this wind at my back and then fight the head wind on the return down the five miles of Fisher Road.

What I experienced though was a bad crosswind on Tri-Cities and total frontage on Fisher. By the time I got to the Wesley Riggs Memorial on TriCities, I was pooped. I always stop and pay my respects to the fallen local hero PFC Wesley Riggs. He and his family payed the ultimate price in Iraqi Freedom and deserves a few minutes of reflection.

Needless to say, that ride into the 10-15 mph wind on Fisher road turned me into a grunting 56 year old man and I finally wheeled down my own street exhausted and once again fulfilled. I’ll do it again, but next time I’ll check the wind report, but the sum of all this is I got off the couch and did something outdoors.