Come Back To The Five & Dime, Mike and Tom

Sad news this week. A high school friend and one-time crush of mine died from the Big C. He was the sophomore class favorite and an all round nice guy. Mike played in a band, The Brick Window, through junior and senior high school. Seems like yesterday they were on a high school stage with youthful hopes and aspirations of hitting the big time. I've seen a couple of guys from the band through recent years, Augie and David. But, Mike didn't make it to any of our class reunions and I only heard of his death through emails from some of my classmates. For a while, Mike played with Marshall Chapman and you can see a photo of him on her site taken at The Bottom Line in the late 70's.

Another band member and school chum, Tom, went onto Nashville and still plays the circuit with a fancier last name, Comet. Tom Comet. No wonderdog, Manfred, though. A couple of photos( scroll down the page a little) of Tom found via the web force me to acknowledge the years. He's the dude in the gold lame suit coat. Plays a mean bass guitar. Here's another snap. He is wearing the brown Mad Hatter kind of chapeau in the photos. And you can hear Tom pretty well on some sound clips from the new Webb Wilder's album, "About Time".

They still seem like boys to me.

Vaya Con Dios, Mike. Hope you are playing your guitar and having a rockin' time wherever you are.

The Fool Has Spoken

George over at The Fool answers my meme lob. Go get edumacated and read his answers.

Thanks for playing, George! I am going to try some of your reading suggestions. It always great to see what someone else reads.

The Walrus was Tom

Album is Tom Rush's "Ladies Love Outlaws" album. Songs include: Ladies Love Outlaws, Maggie, Desperados Waiting For The Train, and his signature song - No Regrets.

I found this album at Half Priced Books for $2.98, and it has an original Tom Rush autograph on the back:

"Thanks for listening to 95 FM Tom Rush"

How cool is that?

And Mystery Album No. 2

Mystery Album #2

Okay, Pancho, Lefty is running out of pie dough. I will only let you go so long out o'kindness, I suppose.

This solo artist's album had guest musicians and vocalists by the names of James Taylor, Rupert Holmes, Tim Schmit, Jeff "Skunk" Baxter and Carly Simon.

**UPDATE AND HINTS: "the only man who should be allowed to sing Joni Mitchell's songs".

Just occurred to me that the posted picture looks like Jim Croce, but it ain't him, folks.

Here is a humorous Mystery Artist MP3 ditty. Don't cheat and peek at the URL if you want to just try your ear's ability to guess.

Tomorrow's Trash Day and Time's A'Wastin'

Dang, I missed my evening walk through the neighborhood.

Kman usually tricks me into watching some dumb thing on TV, or encourages me to go check my blog 'bout the same time every Tuesday night. Wednesday is trash day in our neighborhood. Means all the good shit gets put out on the curb at dusk. Now, mind you, I don't attack a curbside pile of boxes like a crazed hungry coon looking for browned apple cores or half-eaten cobs of corn. I am selective. From half a block away, I can spy a possible trove almost glowing in the dark with promise. Slowing my walk down to a more leisurely amble, I stop at the edge of a potential cache and pretend to stretch a hamstring, or tie a tennis shoe lace. "Oh my, did I knock that box over?"

I do draw the line at ripping through black Husky bags. If the discarded prize is not in plain view after a slight re-arranging of the pile, then it goes to the dump with the rest of the garbage. Hey, I don't want real trash, just orphaned treasure that needs a good home or a little creative touch.

I guess I must have inherited a double whammy of the recessive Depression-Era gene. I recycle most everything and find joy in old beat up tin watering cans, or a handful of worn wooden clothespins. To add to this affliction, I can't part with any of it. Kman says my dream of "Pattie's Good Shit Store" is better kept a dream...I would never allow anything to be sold and moved away.

Well, all I know is if the Antique Road Show ever comes to Cowtown, I am ready. There is bound to be that $5000 knick-knack somewhere in my stash. Problem would be what to choose to bring for the professional appraisal: my 70's platform shoes that were worn only once on the disco floor at the SpeakEasy with just a slight bloodstain suffered after a terrible four-inch fall; the little stuffed frogs that play a tiny violin, bass fiddle, and a slide trombone; a bourbon decanter with a picture of Elvis on it or the Coca-Cola Super Bowl V Commemorative bottle; a ticket stub from the Cherry Lane Drive-In for a showing of "The Good, The Bad, & The Ugly; or the Avon replica antique car bottles filled with old cologne that could now take paint off a 1945 Model D John Deere tractor left out in the pasture for eons and leave it smelling faintly of Windjammer? Or, how about that magical little bird that dips his beak down into a glass of water over and over in perpetual thirst?

The only thing I ever owned that could have fetched a college fund windfall was a humongous set of Beatles bubble gum trading cards, over 100 of them spanning two years of ripped out fillings and untold allowance squandering. Years ago, my mama threw them away and they were filched from our curbside garbage in the dark of night.

Somewhere today there is a TCU freshman who owes his education to John, Paul, George and Ringo and should thank his lucky stars for a mom who can spot treasure half a block away...

I Stole Eric's Blog

(And no, it isn't the missing verse to "I Shot The Sheriff")

I am a wanton hussy. After visiting the Fireant Gazette this evening, I couldn't help but steal this little jewel of a fun game:


*WARNING: GAME NOT SUITABLE FOR ANYONE UNDER THE AGE OF 45 UNLESS YOU HAVE AN OLD FART FRAME OF MIND (begging Miss Crabby's pardon, but I do mean it affectionately)

NAME THIS ALBUM


Album Cover 1

I couldn't come up with the answer at Erics's. But, I think MY clue picture is a dead giveaway.

Awww, c'mon, you know you wanna play! Okay, okay. You don't have to be over 45.

Texas Trivia Answers

1. Pancho Villa, Columbia, New Mexico in 1916.
2. Sam Houston
3. Bobby Fuller Four, El Paso
4. Cacti names
5. Dr. Pepper
6. XIT in the Panhandle ( Ten for Texas)
7. Friendship
8. Red = Courage, White = liberty, and Blue = loyalty
9. Stanley Marsh 3
10. Hondo Crouch

(See quiz questions in previous post)

Company Is Like Fish...And Other Reunion Tales

The following is a post from last year, but the reunion season can't be far away as evidenced this weekend by the spotting of a tee-shirt imprinted with a Tree of Life and the words "Suggs Family Reunion 2005" emblazoned on the chest. As the days heat up and summer approaches, the spectacle of family gatherings under picnic tables at the lake are not far away.

Why is it most family reunions in Texas must be in the middle of the furnace-blasting month of July or August? Is it some law that was carved in stone millenniums ago: "Thou Shalt Gather Together and Swelter"? I suppose the original theory must have been to include all the precious little rugrats during summer break, but the supreme foolhardiness of this seems to be lost on the minions.

Seems there is always an Aunt Zoetta attending who has the smartest, best-lookin' and most achieving children of the whole dang gene pool. Goes without saying that she is a bigwig on the PTA, listed as a must-have for every committee in the Womens Auxillary Club, and personally knows Laura Bush. If you are unfortunate enough to stand too long in her vicinity, you will be subjected to a barrage of pictures of Desiree in her Good Ship Lollipop costume, tapping her little heart away on a stage at Mayfest. She has a separate, cutesy little cloth covered album for each child. Try to avoid asking what is in the patriotic-looking album, the one with the red, white and blue ribbons. This album is reserved for The Perfect Son, Junior. Surely you know he was selected for Who Who's of the Presidential Council on Youth, and leads the Young Republican Party in Cowtown? The kid looks like a enrollee at the Lumpy Rutherford School for Overachievers. Oh, and the photo album with the pug puppies on it...don't even glance that way. Run like hell if it is within reach or else be prepared to ooh and ahh over four-legged children.

WARNING: DO NOT BRING VCR'S TO A REUNION WHICH INCLUDES RELATIVES OF THE ABOVE PERSUASION. BAN ALL ELECTRONIC DEVICES OTHER THAN UNCLE EARL'S PACEMAKER.

And without fail there is the third cousin from Dallas who proudly bears the title of Miss Skin Tight Capris Pants. It is customary for these to be lime green with little pink flamingos on them, and a matching pink tube top. Miss Skin Tight obviously has the O'Hara gene, and goes straight for all the menfolk. I always insist on adding extra BBQ sauce to her brisket, which is guaranteed to leak through the cheap paper plates and onto the hideous pink birds on her britches. This woman put the H in Harlot, the W in Warpaint, and is on a first-name basis with her plastic surgeon. Add a pair of tacky Candie sandals with clear acrylic heels, and you have a Sight For Sore Eyes. Yep, this is the official description. If your eyes weren't sore before her entrance, just watch her prance for about 10 minutes. You'll be reaching for the Visine, or a really dark pair of sunglasses to cut the brassy glare off her Miss Clairol hair.

One of these years, I hope to be crowned the official Geneology Queen at my family reunion. I have worked hard on our ancestral tree. Dodging all those nuts ain't easy, it's downright detrimental to good mental health. Everyone wants to know if we are kin to anyone famous, and all I have been able to come up with is a very faint link to Jimmy Carter, which does not please Aunt Zoetta in the slightest.

Wanna know the one good thing about family reunions? I said the ONE good thing about these mandatory mass consumptions of deviled eggs and potato salad and the atrociously bad manners? Sprinkled in amongst all the craziness is the underlying pride of family, and enough genuine affection to bring you back next year.

Pattie's 15 Minutes of Fame

This morning I was a guest of Jim Lago on his Corpus Christi radio program. It was great fun and Jim was a most gracious host. Didn't stump the history buff, except for question #9.

Here is the quiz again for everyone:

Just fer grins (no prizes, just count enlightenment as an added bonus):

1. Prior to 9/11, what person(s) led the only enemy mainland invasion during the 20th century of the US and when?
2. Name the man who has been a governor of Tennesee, Govenor of Texas and President of Texas.
3. What Texas Band were one-hit wonders with the tune “I Shot The Law", and extra points for naming their home base.
4. What do all the following have in common: cow’s tongue, red goblet, flapjack, twisted rib, and horse crippler?
5. First mixed up by Charles Alderton, a Waco Pharmacist. Name that concoction.
6. What ranch once covered 3,050, 000 acres when first established?
7. What is the Texas State Motto?
8. What do the colors of the state flag stand for?
9. Who lives at Toad Hall?
10. Who is the Crown Prince of Luckenbach?

This was originally posted at Texas Blogs, and don't read the comments at that site if you want to try your own Texas history skills.

As Jim pointed out, I have not posted answers to the above, but I promise to do so by this evening. So, if you wanna play, let's rock and roll!

Belly Laughing

Just a couple of days ago, I did the meme from Eric about what profession I'd want to be. For a bellyaching laugh, go read Old Horsetail Snake's answers.

I've added some new blogs to the sidebar as well. Stop by and introduce yourselves to some wonderful bloggers:

Pancho, who hails from Midland, Texas

Bunker Mulligan, a Corpus Christi, Texas blogger

Bill, a Cowtown blogger, like Pattie!

Go on over and say a big "Howdy" and tell 'em Pattie sent ya...

Cowtown KICKapoo Joy Juice

(yes, for longtime readers, this is a repeat. Sorry!)

My dad was an alcoholic. When sober, the nicest, funniest man you'd ever meet, but his personality took on a sinister tone when drinking. His father was an alcoholic as well. A mean, abusive drunk. Never knew my grandfather, he died when I was 6 and I have no recollection of him. My dad's two brothers were also afflicted with the family curse. Luckily, I seemed to have escaped the cycle of addiction. In his golden years, Dad stopped drinking. Maybe more to do with the fact that he could no longer drive (due to another family curse - premature macular degeneration) than a real zealous wish to recover, but I was glad of the positive change. The following tale is funny, but bittersweet at the same time for me to recall Dad's drinking years:

Dad used to work for Coca Cola Bottling Company. Thus, he had access to lots of empty bottles, a bottle-capper and other useful items good for the making of wine or home brew. He only worked there for a couple of years before getting hired on at the bomber plant, but by then, he was well supplied with the tools of the trade. Dad considered himself a Connoisseur of Beverage Brewing. He loved to cook, and he loved beer and wine. What better combination for making hooch?

Now, for the uninitiated, homemade beer and wine STINK. Fermentation is not a pretty process. Involves lots of crocks and hoses, and cheesecloth, and yeast, and constant attention. In the summertime, gnats were a lovely byproduct. I watched the brewmeister (aka Dad) with fascination. Who in their right mind would ever put this stuff in their mouth? In the evenings, he would check the progress of the bubbly elixir by drawing a few sips from the siphon hose. Then, deeming it needful of either sugar or yeast or whatever the heck else he put in the stuff, he would smack his lips and declare it was the best batch yet. Looking back, I had this ingrained fear that the Feds would come and incarcerate the whole famn damily if we told anyone of the little brewery in the den. An oath of secrecy added all the more mystery to my dad's hobby. Oh yeah, like no one could smell the stuff three blocks away?

Beer and wine have to reach a certain stage before you can bottle it. Basically, it has to "quit working". As I remember, this was a tricky part of the procedure. If you waited too long, the result was a flat flop, and if you got in a hurry and put it up "green" you were literally making weapons of minor destruction. One particular batch was of a dark beer that was promised to some ale-loving friends who were impatient to wrap their lips around a cold Coke bottle filled with an amber fluid guaranteed to put hitch in your get-along.

My folks were planning a family vacation that was in dire risk of being postponed if this recent connoction didn't hurry up and be ready for bottling before our departure. The friends were no help, they knew naught of bottling the stuff. So, the little ole winemaker decided it would be okay to pour and cap the beer, IF the friends would keep it cool and in a dark place. "Oh, sure! We will just put it in this bottom kitchen cabinet that never gets opened, and the house is cool from the new central air unit, " quipped the silly suds suckers (try saying that really fast). So, about 25 bottles were carefully driven to the new owners and gingerly tucked away in the nice dark confines under the countertop.

We left the next morning for the coast and a fishing trip. Pre-cell phone days. It wasn't until we returned that we heard about the explosion. Seems the brewsky was just not really ready for the bottle, and late one night the whole mess began to blow, one lovely beer after another. Blew the cabinet doors right off their hinges and blasted beer, glass and splintered wood all over the kitchen. At first, the family thought the Russians had finally started dropping bombs on us. Then, it came to them...the beer! The beer! THE BEER!

Many years have past since this escapade, but the story lives on in family gatherings. Moral of the story: Only the Irish drink green beer. Wonder how the heck they keep it in the bottle long enough for a decent swig?

Callin' The Dog

Texas speech in its most common form is full of humorous metaphors. I find it comforting that there is still a an originality in our language, although homogeneity is fast becoming a statewide affliction. Perhaps the media and our fast and vast means of communication is the culprit of the demise of original thought. I hope Texans manage to hang onto the quaint colloquialism that individualizes us. A couple of examples:

Whenever you have a group of old timers playing dominoes or just passing the time of day, you hear of someone "Callin the Dog", a colorful euphemism for telling a bunch of whoppers. Some folks say the phrase came about when a bunch of men were sittin' around telling lies and one of the men had a hound pup which he'd give to the fella that told the biggest lie. They all took their turn, and the last man in the corner allowed "I ain't never told a lie in my life." With that, the man with the dog up and called the hound pup in and handed him over to the man in the corner. "That's the biggest lie ever told, and you gits the dog." Ever since then, if you start tellin' lies in Texas, you are "Callin' the dog".

Come to think of it, Texans use the word "dog" in a lot of our explanations:

This dog'll hunt - It will work, acceptable
That dog won't hunt - to disagree, unacceptable
An egg-suckin' dog - a low down person
Everybody and their dog - All
Got the tail wagging the dog- got something backwards
If you're gonna run with the big dogs, be prepared to hike your leg in tall grass - be prepared, obviously
Once you cut off a hound dog's tail, you can't sew it back - be sure you got it right
Pick of the litter - the best
Ride the dog - go via Greyhound Bus
Clean as a hound's tooth - extra clean
Like a tick to a dog - clinging
Dog foot card - a card in the suit of Clubs
Barking up the wrong tree - confused
Gone to the dogs - deteriorated - to hell or to seed
A hard dog to keep under the porch - a good person
Wet on the fire and call the dogs - time to leave, ended
Bird dog 'em - follow someone
Tight as a tick on a hound dog - frugal
This old dog is done huntin' - gave up
Runnin' with the big dogs - doing well
If he was a dog, someone would a stole him when he was a pup - a good person
Like a small dog with a big bone - as in grinning
Like a dog with two tails - happy
Had to tie a t-bone around his neck to get the dogs to play with him - a homely person
As a dog on ice - independent
Let a sleeping dog lie - ignore, leave alone
If he's a dog, he'll bark and bite - inevitable
Tall dog in the pack - a leader
When the Devil was a pup - long time ago
As a bulldog on a gunpowder diet - mean
Twitchin' and shakin' like a wet dog - nervous
As hairs on a dog's back - numerous, many
Raining cats and dogs - hard rain
Ran with his tail curled up so tight his hind legs were off the ground - scared, frightened
Sick as a poisoned pup - ill
Slow as a hound dog in August - something/someone very slow
As a young pup to a porcupine - surprised
A shy dog don't get no biscuits - to be very timid
Looks that would scare a dog off a gut wagon - ugly
See a man about a dog - use the restroom
Barking at a knot - wasting time

And now, this ole dog is headed for a dry place under the wagon - Goodnight, little dogies.