Gotta See Uncle Willie

About the time the firework stands start popping up at the county line, I begin to get excited about sitting in the devilish summer heat slathered in sunscreen and sweating profusely whilst Uncle Willie lights into the first notes of "Whiskey River." Today we will be sitting in that summer heat once again. Uncle Willie will be headlining the Outlaw Music Festival, which is still Willie's Picnic to me, and Martina and I will be a part of the red, white, and blue bedecked throngs.

In anticipation of the event, I had Willie's new LP, Last Man Standing, sent to me through the magic of two-click modern convenience. Here is the title track. 

Dumb Things Done: The Formative Years

In my formative years, I did many dumb things. One time a built a seesaw above a four-foot concrete dropoff between my house and that of my neighbors. I then placed a garbage can on one end of the seesaw, climbed into the trash can, and turned the lid upside down so that I could hold it in place. I then asked some neighbor kids to jump on the other end of the seesaw in order to catapult my primitive ejection capsule into the air. The kids jumped in unison, and I flew into the air and crashed into the side of my house. After clattering around on the pavement for a few seconds, I climbed out of the garbage can with my bell rung. The sheer lack of logic still eludes me.

Adobe Walls

In 1874, the Second Battle of Adobe Walls took place in the Texas Panhandle. Approximately 700 Comanche, Kiowa, and Cheyenne attacked a camp of around 30 buffalo hunters and laid siege for several days. According to the Texas State Historical Association, the main significance of the battle was that it caused the Red River War, which ended in the relocation of the Southern Plains Indians to what is now Oklahoma.

Here is a song by Fort Worth's Cody Jinks from his Adobe Sessions album.

Big Times in Little D

On the weekend we headed up to Denton to visit the Patterson-Appleton Arts Center, where we saw the work of Texas Woman's University professor Colby Parsons. We found his work, which he describes on his website as "the intersection between physicality and immateriality," to be quite intriguing. His use of light, shadow, and ceramics in this exhibition, which is called Structured Light, is both unique and innovative.

After leaving the gallery, we headed to Recycled Books on the square where I acquired an old Folkways Records LP of Woody Guthrie playing with Leadbelly, Cisco Houston, and others, which I am currently enjoying whilst typing these words. It is always a fine time when we head to Little D.

Here is a short video of Colby Parsons' work that was displayed on Navy Pier in Chicago.

A Fire to Light Our Tongues

This week I was absolutely thrilled to learn that my story, "A Frontier's Passing," will be included in a new anthology titled A Fire to Light Our Tongues. The anthology, edited by Donna Walker-Nixon, Rachel Crawford, and Elizabeth Dell, "explores the intersections among writing, spirituality, and the landscapes and cityscapes of Texas." I am extremely grateful to have my work included in this project. I truly feel blessed.

"Poetry [is] more necessary than ever as a fire to light our tongues."

-Naomi Shihab Nye

Our Lady of Loreto Chapel at Presidio La Bahia in Goliad

A Picture Show View

This evening while flipping through pictures on my magical thinking machine, I came across some photos taken on this date three years ago. I was pleased to see that on June 20, 2015, I was in Archer City, Texas, visiting Larry McMurtry's bookstore. Here is a picture taken that day. The last picture show is in the background. 

Every Rabbit is Named Ferda

My wife Martina calls every rabbit "Ferda," which is the short form of Ferdinand in Czech. Granted, Ferda is a fine name for a rabbit, but it can make things a trifle confusing considering the sheer number of rabbits living in our neighborhood. Martina does, however, make a distinction with baby rabbits. A baby rabbit is called "Ferdíček," which is the diminutive form of the name. When Ferda or Ferdíček is in our backyard or on our porch, we jiggle the doorknob a little to give him a head start before the dogs run out.

This is clearly a photograph of Ferdíček.

This is Ferda.

You guessed it. The little guy by the rock is another Ferda.

Here is a song called "Rabbit" by Ray Wylie Hubbard that I can't seem to get out of my head.

A Botanical Chandelier

While taking a stroll near a small lake recently, I happened across a tree that had what appeared to be little chandeliers of seed pods hanging from its branches. While I stood there marveling, I imagined Mr. Possum and Miss Armadillo having a little iced tea party at a table just below the seed pod chandelier.

Upon arriving home, I searched the internet trying to identify the tree, and I also consulted my Trees of Texas Field Guide, but I still don't know exactly what tree this is. My guess is a kind of mesquite or acacia. If you happen to have this piece of botanical knowledge between your auricles, please be kind enough to let your digits do the talking and share. 

The Father of Western Swing

This Father's Day, I would like to celebrate Milton Brown, the Father of Western Swing. Brown, who was originally a part of the Wills Fiddle Band, was the first to introduce electric steel guitar and piano to the genre. According to the Texas State Historical Association, Milton Brown was also instrumental in making Fort Worth become known as the "Cradle of Western Swing."

Click below to hear "Easy Ridin' Papa" by Milton Brown and His Musical Brownies. Watch for the great photographs of Fort Worth's Crystal Springs Dance Pavilion.

Here is the link for a short TSHA article about Milton Brown.

https://tshaonline.org/handbook/online/articles/xgm01

A Song for Ol' Hoss

This morning while checking out my Instagram account, I saw that country artist Chris Wall had posted a picture of himself and Waylon Jennings taken in Austin in 1993. Today would have been Hoss' 81st birthday, and Chris posted the photograph in honor of that honkytonk hero.

Here is "An Outlaw's Blues," a song Chris Wall wrote about the passing of Waylon Jennings in 2002.

A Leaner with American Short Fiction

I recently learned that my 999 word short story called "Porkchop" was a semi-finalist for American Short Fiction's Short(er) Fiction Prize. Only two finalists were announced, so "Porkchop" was definitely in the short stack. Although I didn't get a ringer, I at least scored a leaner. I'll take a leaner any day. Congratulations to the two writers who scored those ringers. To learn more about their winning stories, please click the link below.

http://americanshortfiction.org/2018/05/15/the-2018-american-shorter-fiction-prize-winners/

Side note: When I lived in Yellowstone, a tourist really did ask about the little orange dogs they saw by the buffalo.

Riders of the Purple Thistle

Growing up, I wasn't wild about purple thistle. It was sharp to the touch, hard to get around, and sometimes taller than I was. These days I am at one with purple thistle. I like the fact that it feeds goldfinches and painted lady butterfly larvae and that it makes bumblebees happy as well. The other day I saw some while on a walk and decided to take a picture.

The Outlaw Mockingbird

Wildlife has been scarce around our house since that screech owl came a calling, but yesterday evening I was pleased to come eye to eye with a young mockingbird perched upon the stockade fence. The mocker cocked his head and glared at me like a pugilist, and I grinned and cocked my head, too. He kind of reminded me of the protagonist in Steve Earle's "Tom Ames' Prayer," who sure ain't scared of no one. Sit back, relax, and listen to the song, and you'll see what I mean.

 

A Hat on the Bed

The other day when Martina and I were packing up to go to Fredericksburg, she tossed my ball cap on the bed. Although I never said a word, I gently picked up the hat and put it on the nightstand. Somehow, after all of these years, I still carry the old superstition about putting a hat on the bed within me. 

When I was a little boy, I remember a story about someone blaming the death of a family member on a cowboy hat being place on a bed. After hearing that, I never intentionally allowed one of my hats to be on a bed, and especially not a cowboy hat, for it could not just bring bad luck but actual calamity. Today, of course, keeping hats off the bed is more of an old custom than an actual superstition, but then, maybe somewhere in the back of my mind, that old irrational worry has never left.

Here is Jason Boland, who I once had the pleasure of seeing open for Merle Haggard at John T. Floore's Country Store, talking about hats on the bed and singing about luck.

A Mosquito by the River

This morning while reading the poetry of West Texas native Christian Wiman on the porch, a mosquito landed on the corner of the book. The pages moved slightly in my hands, with the angle of the read-pages' plane causing the mosquito's shadow to lengthen or shorten with what seemed my every breath. 

Texas Pecan Coffee and a Sufi Poet

This morning I sat on the porch reading Rumi, a thirteenth century Sufi poet who knew a whole lot about living and life. The sun shone through the red yucca blooms in the yard, making them almost seem translucent, and the wind swayed the desert willow in the background. I just sat there drinking Texas pecan coffee and contemplating the words of a wiseman from another place and time.

Yet I am not the only Texas writer who enjoys this particular poet. A few years ago I read an interview with Robert Earl Keen, and he talked about reading Rumi at his Scriptorium. For your listening pleasure, here is a song by that venerable Texas songwriter.

   

An Afternoon in Fred

While in Fredericksburg recently, we stopped by the place formerly known as Choo Choo Trolley, a fine purveyor of pots, yart, and ceramics. I've always liked the place because of the live music on weekend afternoons. A few years ago, I even sat in with Gale, commonly known as Galevis, who had a regular gig there. Although we did not purchase a ten foot metal armadillo with a Texas flag on its back to hang above our mantle, Martina did buy a funky little ceramic lizard to go in one of the cactus pots on our back porch.

Picking Peaches at Nanner Manor

Through some odd morphing of nicknames over the years, my uncle has come to be known in certain circles as "Nanner." His dwelling place, of course, is called "Nanner Manor." At Nanner Manor, my aunt and uncle have peach trees. We visited their house on the weekend, and Uncle Nanner of Nanner Manor gave us a couple of burgeoning bags of those Parker County peaches. Martina then turned many of those peaches into a fine Czech-Tex cobbler.

Here is an action shot of Uncle Nanner on a ladder picking peaches at Nanner Manor.

  

A Raptor on the Roof

This evening our neighbor sent me a photograph that solved a mystery around our house. Martina and I had been wondering why we had not seen many birds in our backyard lately. We had not seen mockingbirds, purple finches, or even sparrows around the house. We had, however, seen a fair number of rabbits, though their numbers had seemed to have thinned out as of late.

When I first looked at the picture, which was of my neighbor's garage taken at two in the morning, there was a car in the driveway, and I figured my neighbor had sent me a picture of a creep stalking the neighborhood. However, when I called and he pointed out the owl on top of his roof, everything made sense.

Here is a cropped version of the picture my neighbor took. Even though the photo now appears grainy like the ones of Bigfoot and the Loch Ness Monster, I still used The Cornell Lab's Merlin birding app to try to identify the owl. According to the app, this nocturnal visitor was most likely an Eastern Screech-Owl.   

Texas Student Wins the National Spelling Bee

A young Texan proved victorious at the Scripps National Spelling Bee this year, his victory secured on the word "koinonia," which, according to Merriam-Webster, means "the Christian fellowship or body of believers." The winner, fourteen-year-old Karthik Nemmani of McKinney, made it to the competition as a wild card. This is truly a testament to the spelling prowess of North Texans, who, according to the Dallas Morning News, took the first three places in the national bee this year. Congratulations to Karthik and all of the other youthful Texans who made it to the finals!

My own spelling bee story is hardly as illustrious as the one above. Although I won the school spelling bee in the fourth grade, I crashed and burned in the sixth grade spelling bee. Though I studied hard and could spell pretty much any word in the book, I got knocked out in the first round by the word "abut," which I apparently had been mispronouncing. Upon misspelling the word, I hollered a rather mild FCC-approved vulgarism into the microphone. 

The auditorium burst into laughter, and my teacher met me at the edge of the stage absolutely hot under the collar. She said that if I thought that I was cute or funny I was dead wrong. I replied that I did not think either of those things. The word had simply slipped out because I got disqualified in the first round. It was merely the agony of defeat.

But enough with my crash and burn. Hurray for McKinney's Karthik Nemmani and the power spellers of North Texas!