One Hundred and One Days

One hundred and one days ago I learned of my Army Veteran son’s untimely death.

One hundred and one days ago my bride, daughter and loving family had our hearts ripped out and our lives turned upside down. One hundred days have passed and I think we are slowly entering into the final stage of grief, which is Acceptance. I sure hope so. The last stage was a bummer.

One hundred and one days ago we entered the darkest days of our lives.

One hundred and one days ago I learned that my bride, daughter, our loving family and yes, even me are loved so much more deeply than I could have ever imagined. There has truly been a silver lining in the darkest of clouds. It hasn’t all been bad believe me. Our friends have suffered also, but spread their wings of love to comfort us in our time of profound desperation.

One hundred and one days ago my aging Dad, whom I had never seen shed a tear, looked at me, and with eyes over-flowing muttered, “Nick is the first one of us to go” and he is correct – but who could have predicted it, or even prevented his demise. I will not torment myself with conjecture.

Many hundreds of thousands of war veterans live out their lives in silence with untreated depression, taking each day as a challenge to make sense of their lives. Some are even successful in turning it around – some aren’t. I think back on comments my Iraqi Freedom decorated son made leading up to this fateful night and realize a lot of signs were there to be read and I mostly missed them.

The fourth and worst stage is Depression and it has horrors of its own. We are slowly rising above it, each of us at our own pace. My son Nick once looked at me and said point blank “I have trouble with depression”. Another time he said in a monotone “Dad, you don’t know what’s like to be in combat” and then he fell silent. Mostly he was silent and ninety per cent of what we learned about our son’s war-life came from the stories of his friends and fellow soldiers after his funeral.

One of the standout characteristics of depression, I now know well, is the inability to carry on as before. Sufferers row in circles and many times they don’t even care. Untreated, as in Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) can be and many times is fatal.

In my own case, it has been impossible to resume my life pre-funeral. Forgive my ignorance please, but up to this point, I personally had never lost someone close to me, let alone my own child.

I have always been self-sufficient as an adult, never imposing my needs and desires extravagantly on friends, or even my own wife. I attempt to make daily progressions, both physically and mentally, studying constantly to improve myself. I work very hard at what I do. I am also my own worst critic.

One hundred and one days ago I drifted into the doldrums of progression and today I felt a slight breeze. Up until now I was fighting a downhill slide occasionally casting a last-ditch anchor to arrest my descent, but I believe I have now bottomed out. In fact I bottomed out about 2 weeks ago and that’s how I know it’s time to put on my sweats, tennis shoes and make like Rocky training to fight Apollo.

I haven’t slipped deeper in the last two weeks and that’s a good thing. I have a feeling there are more good things in my immediate future. I’m ready. It’s all up from here on out and I feel like climbing.

Folks, I have a piece of advise for you and yours concerning depression from the loss of a loved one. If you are suffering from it, understand this is normal, but not permanent. Then realize it can and does get better, but it takes determination and most of all - time. Time is the great healer. One hundred and one days so far.

Garter Snake Eats Toad 7 25 09

I filmed this today in my yard in Baytown, Texas.

Baytown Bert lets Kahns Bavarian Brand braunschweiger take him down memory lane

Braunschweiger (named after Braunschweig, Germany) is a type of liverwurst (pork liver sausage) which is nearly always smoked and is a heavy favorite of Baytown Bert, as is Dutch Lunch. Kahn's Bararian Brand is my personal favorite.

Geee-ronimo, She Said!

My Bride announced she was going to jump out of a perfectly good airplane and would I like to join her, my brother TJ Bustem and his son, RJ? I felt a moment of panic and controlled the urge to lose my cookies, so to speak. “Do I have to” I whined?

“Of course not” she replied and I immediately began my plan to stand on the ground and watch, video and record the whole episode. I would brave the tarmac. I would stand for seven hours under the brutal sun at the private airport of Skydive Houston near Waller, Texas and not utter a disparaging word. I would be a trooper. My sister-in-law and her other son would also endure this self-abusive and death-defying act by our loved ones. He is LT and he has four jumps under his belt already and since he is under another group of aerial jumpers, he decided to observe his Dad and brother this time instead of jumping.

My Bride also told me she intended to sprinkle a portion of my son’s ashes over the Texas sky, something he would have wanted. My son Nick died suddenly this past April 16th and was a victim of posttraumatic stress disorder associated with his combat missions in Iraq. We had him cremated and I have his ashes in a container in my closet, for lack of making a decision on his final resting place.


The day came July 3rd, 2009 and we made the relative short drive to Skydive Houston near Waller. To my surprise the place was “jumping” with activity. We were instructed to arrive by 9:00 am, but our party didn’t actually board the plane until 3:15 pm. After the obligatory video and safety instruction they were placed in group “Otter seven”. The groups were called “Otters” because the airplane being used, was a DeHavilland Twin Otter (DHC-6).

Repeatedly, I was asked if I would like to jump and I answered as candidly as possible and said, “No, I’m scared”. I figured this was as close to the truth as I could make it. I’ve done plenty of stupid and dangerous things in my life to prove myself (to me) without adding jumping out of a moving airplane while flying at 14,000 feet. One of many possible examples was walking down an overgrown jungle path in the Cobra Triangle of Central Thailand, because it was closer to my destination than taking a bus – by myself – at night – without a flashlight. In my feeble logic, this seems like skydiving would be a welcome exchange of bravery – or stupidity.


We watched the Otter taxi away and since this was the seventh group of skydivers, we knew the fly pattern. About eleven minutes later I watched as the chutes began to magically appear high above us. We had questioned each member of our group as to what color of chute each had and my Bride’s was blue with one large red stripe on the end. Within a minute or two they were all on the ground safely, smiling and showing no signs of wear other than a sweat shine.

We bought the video. Buy the video and if you can get Stacey as your videographer, she will do you right, I promise. My Bride's tandem instructor was named Aaron and he couldn't of been better.

I asked my Bride how it all went and she told me she had successfully released our son’s ashes and she felt a sense of relief.

As we left the airfield, I noticed all three skydivers were slipping off into a state of relaxation. I was simply hungry. Will they do it again? Who knows, but I will remain grounded, if I have my wishes.

Goose Creek and the Bayland Marina

I live in Baytown by choice. I work in Deer Park slash La Porte, but Baytown is my adopted home of thirty-five years and it’s not likely I will move, even after retirement. I said all that to say this; it does matter to me what our city and area looks like – to me and many others who share a common idea of a hometown’s appearance.

When I want to know what our city leaders are thinking and planning, I make every attempt to ask them personally and they have yet to ignore or misdirect me and that’s just one reason I put the stamp of approval on Mayor DonCarlos, Garry Brumback, Bob Leiper and Scott Johnson. Kevin Troller (Assistant City Manager) hasn’t got my vote of confidence yet, as I haven’t had the pleasure of his acquaintance. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time though.

This past week two exchanges of information took place while I was trying to get information on the future of the city. One involved the marina, which I will get to in a bit and the other is a group of old tanks on Goose Creek close to SH-146 and West Main. These tanks are across Goose Creek from the sewage treatment facility and are a real eyesore to others and me.

Back in June of 1992 Congress and the EPA came up with what is now known as "Brownfield" land, which are by definition on Wikipedia as "abandoned or underused industrial and commercial facilities available for re-use" and some qualify for Federal monies to clean them up, et al.

I asked the Mayor and City Manager if the property with the old chemical tanks qualifies as Brownfield property. Mr. Brumback told me they were making attempts to contact the owner(s) and get permission to have a scrap dealer haul it all away. I suggested a boat ramp be built on this peninsula and maybe accommodations for fishing, the likes of which is on Goose Lake closer to Bayland Park. It’s possible the land could be donated to the city for a small park also.

Mayor DonCarlos told me "You have hit on one of my second term goals-to get all the old pilings, power poles, and assorted oil field debris out of Goose Creek, as well as to try to get the old well heads capped below ground and the surface equipment (tanks, etc.) removed. Pete Alfaro fiddled with the idea in the 90’s, but couldn’t find anyone to fund it. Garry and I have discussed attempting to get Brownfield funding, and I intend to approach the Railroad Commission for help-I understand they might have some funding for this sort of cleanup".

Mr. Brumback promised "I will keep you posted on our progress" and I in turn will keep those who follow my writing informed also.

Now, onto the subject of the Marina at Bayland Park and what the boat owners are thinking the city is doing. For the longest time I’ve wondered about this place and why it wasn’t covered with big beautiful palm trees to make it look appealing. I was contacted by Martin Tidswell, owner of the sailing vessel "Turtle" the other day and was asked to get some answers, so I took it directly to the Mayor. There is a terrific amount of misunderstanding, hard feelings and confusion evidentially, between the boat owners and the city and in Mr. Tidswell’s words, they feel like they have been "scattered to the wind and now don't even have the small voice we once might have had".

The Mayor responded immediately: "The insurance monies paid covered only the untangling of the docks and boats and the cost of a marine surveyor to supervise that giant "pixie sticks" pile cleanup. We have applied for Ike recovery funds to rebuild; although it should be covered, and we think will be, we haven't seen a dime of the FEMA replacement money for it yet. Oddly enough, I have had two discussions this morning on the subject of the marina. Another possibility is a possible sale/lease of the entire island to a private developer/operator. We have been contacted by several developers, but would only consider this avenue with tight restrictions on what could be built on the island".

The Mayor again: "Finally - I want the marina rebuilt. Its location at a major gateway to the City makes it crucial that we develop the area properly, and I believe the marina is central to the plan. I am glad that there are folks still passionate about it, and I hope we can get going on it soon".

Mr. Tidswell's responded: "The following are some of the boat owners complaints and may be clouded by our interactions with the city players.

We feel the marina failed because the pilings were of a substandard height. No other floating marina in the entire Galveston Bay area floated away. Neither the city nor Mr Hazelwood or any of his staff made the slightest attempt to secure the docks as was suggested in their information packet I received when I leased my slip.

The boat owners were told by Mr. Hazelwood on the Thursday after the storm that he didn't think supplying security was his responsibility. We owners took it upon ourselves to stand 24/7-armed watch on our boats AND the marina property for 23 days until we were supplied a fence and 2 days later a constable. We made fire a constant concern and set rules to prevent it.

We were not allowed to have any input in the choosing of contractors or negotiating rates and were treated poorly/rudely by the cities insurance carrier.

If you have been in Baytown a while I'm sure you know there are a lot of "unusual" political deals done over the years and they are still going on. As usual you will need to follow the money.

I guess the cities concept of "a lot of money" is a bit different than mine but let it stand that Mr. Hazelwood was making a pretty good return on his money.

I too am getting tired of beating this dead horse but having not seen the slightest hint of restoration at the marina I feel its my obligation to at least poke it from time to time".

Mayor DonCarlos answered: "We want these owners to return to the marina, and I will readily acknowledge that the situation after the storm was not a good one-we will try our best to do better next time, and to (hopefully) rebuild in a way that will give greater stability and reliability to the docks (i.e., taller pilings). I well remember the issues with the insurance carrier, and the trials that the owners were put through. All I can promise is that we will listen and try to improve the communications".

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)

Venus, Mars, Mercury and the Whole Cosmos

I went for a walk this morning about a quarter to five in an attempt to distance myself from ambient light. I wanted to star gaze and finding a place where it is dark enough to see clearly, is clearly a problem. Unfortunately I encountered a bank of thin clouds, which negated the light issue.

Besides looking at stars, I was particularly interested in spotting the orbiting International Space Station (ISS) as it passed over. It was scheduled to appear in the WNW sky 31 degrees above the horizon, arch up to 37 degrees and within 2 minutes, disappear in the NNE sky at 19 degrees. All of this at 17,500 miles per hour. The ISS as its known, orbits the earth every 92 minutes.

I couldn’t see it this morning due to the clouds. Rats. Oh well, I saw it last week with a number of friends in attendance. It looks like a very high-flying bright airplane, or jet, but it is easy to recognize that it is way up there and last week we all noted an anomaly. The ISS was on a straight track, when it appeared to make a turn.

I attributed this to gravity’s effect on how light is reflected to, or viewed by our eyes. Ask Albert Einstein, not me because I can’t really explain it; I just think I understand what we saw. The ISS did not turn, as it was orbiting, but because of the way gravity bends light packets…oh well, anyway. It was neat to see.

I did get a very good view of the planets Venus and Mars. Venus is very bright this morning and to the south of the crescent moon, with Mars between it and the moon. Mars, known as the “red planet” does indeed appear to be red to the naked eye, or as I love to say “the naked observer” and sure enough, it was right where it was supposed to be. I thank Edgar Rice Burroughs for introducing me to Science Fiction and the John Carter of Mars/Barsoom series of books.

I read the planet Mercury will also be visible beside the moon just as the sun rises and its dicey whether it can be seen without binoculars. It’s elusive nonetheless and I can’t say I have ever seen it. I want to though, just like when the last three comets were passing by. I made sure I watched them nightly until they were gone from view.

It always amazes me that folks have no interest in seeing a once in a lifetime event, like a comet. They will not walk to their backyard for one minute, but choose to watch “The Closer”, or something equally transient and which has no redeeming or educational value.

The ISS will be visible again tomorrow morning 05:22 for 2 minutes. 10 degrees NW with a max elevation of only 11 degrees and pass from view 2 minutes later in the NNW sky. That’s pretty close to the horizon. I use this site for Baytown, but you can save it for your area with a little adjustment.


This morning, next to the moon on the north side are the Pleiades. The Pleiades (Messier object 45) are an open star cluster in the constellation Taurus. It is among the nearest star clusters to Earth and is the cluster most obvious to the naked eye in the night sky. Read about them on the Internet for more information. The soft cloud layer made this impossible to see, but I still looked.

Get a look while you can, as this group of blue stars is expected to fade in about 250 million years, but why wait?

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.