The Heart of a Tyler Rose

In my hometown, just a few years after my hubby played football and graduated from one of the local high schools, a large young man with a heart that exceeded his size played spectacular football at that same school. Earl Campbell led his team to the State 4A Championship and went on to win the Heisman Trohpy in college.  Nicknamed the Tyler Rose, his professional career earned him the widely accepted and deserved reputation of one of the best power backs in NFL history.

With the Superbowl looming, I found myself thinking of Earl. Now, I wouldn't try to kid you and say that I'm a huge football fan.  I have to concentrate hard to follow, I don't know all the complicated rules of the game. When they fake, I'm usually stupidly hunting for the ball as they charge down the field and make the big play. I seem to need a more personal connection to a player or team to stay interested. Such as watching my young and agile future husband hustle up and down the field, so many years ago...I never took my eyes off him.  Or even the newer pro players that have ties to my town, Matt Flynn and Johnny Manziel. 

But, it was much more than football that brought Earl Campbell to my mind. The character and courage of the man makes him someone that I truly admire.  I was disappointed  a year or so ago when I wasn't in town for a visit he made home. A street was being named for him. When I read the story I realized how much I would have enjoyed meeting him and getting his autograph. At my age, I've become so aware that persons that you can truly respect seem to be increasingly rare.

When Earl was inducted into the Pro Football Hall of Fame, one of his favorite coaches introduced him. Bum Phillips said, "I want to thank Earl's mother for raising a man that knows how to live right, on and off the football field."  I believe that is a very accurate description.  Earl loved his mother and family.  He played the game with all his heart and his strong and powerful body paid a huge price for his relentless dedication.  Even from the wheelchair that he mostly is in these days, and even through the pain that his battered body dishes out to him, that beautiful and gracious smile shines. He is a man of integrity, a man that I believe any person would be proud to know. 

Unfortunately, we live in times where celebrity is often extreme and obscene.  Merely being a sports super star, a movie star, a religious leader or even the president of our great country does not seem to require a person of fine character. It's a great disappointment to me, not that people are human, that they are not perfect but that people who are given great opportunities don't seem to value the qualities of honesty and courage and personal accountability. 

This Sunday, we're having a few friends over. It will be a fun evening of food and football watching. I've decided that during that over hyped extravaganza, I'm going to remember Earl Campbell.  Not just his hard rolling mighty performance on the football field, but the man who worked hard to achieve, handled adversity with bravery and has earned my admiration.

Where is Your Head?

Did you know that an ostrich's eye is bigger than it's brain? No surprise that even though it's head is buried in the sand (for whatever true purpose it has), the lion that it doesn't see coming will still chew it's ass off.  Just "saying" that something isn't so, unfortunately doesn't make it not so.  We seem to have a whole new species of humans worldwide, the Ostrichians.

Up until quite recently, I had friends and acquaintances who insisted that Mexico is safe, it's just fine where I go. Confident that the promise of a cheap fancy handbag was worth a little risky roaming across the border. Lately, most have changed their attitude. Folks, Mexico is dangerous. 

The mayor of Paris is all insulted and outraged, there are no No-Go Zones in her city environs. Is that so?  I've not yet seen the videos and pictures of her or the ultra fashionably dressed French or tourist women strolling around, sans a head cover in those not no-go zones.  There are high populations of Muslims across Europe and whether you want to see them coming or not, a high number are radical terrorist whose sole purpose is to annihilate the infidels of the world. You can get your nose all out of joint about a terminology, but Europe is dangerous.

America is far from immune from this growing threat.  We have our own areas that are as close to No-Go Zones as you can get. I'm also just sick to death of the Ostrichian persistant line that all this stewing evil in the world isn't about religion or radicalism, it's our own fault...brought on by the spoiled have-it-all's of the world. It's about poverty and racism is their loud theme song.  As I heard it very eloquently said recently, "that's the biggest pile of bovine excrement, I've ever heard."

I was quite poor growing up. My parents were not what you called responsible and they created most of their own problems.  Still, they were not racists, they didn't steal or sell drugs, they didn't spend their days rioting, protesting or waiting in the welfare line.  We were just poor. Thousands of folks are and you don't have to be afraid to walk up in their yard.  Poverty, whether your own fault or not, is no excuse for low character and despicable behavior.

No amount of  political correctness or sticking a head in the sand is going to change the cold hard facts of today. These growing extremist populations are not just people who look different from yourself, not just people who have some different religious beliefs or cultural habits. They are hate filled, vicious radicals.  These are groups who want to rip the fabric of peaceful society to shreds and remake it into their own cloak of twisted ideology.  These are groups who have no desire for peace or harmonious existence among the residents of the earth. They either wish to hold on to all past injustices and be sure that all, not of their kind continue to pay for those injustices or they wish to eradicate all, not of their kind and rule.

My old brain is not the size of an ostrich and I know, these people are dangerous and the world has become very dangerous. Don't lie to me for the sake of political correctness or to save your tourist's dollars.  The leaders of the world and the news media can regurgitate their version of the truth endlessly.  Only you can take your head out, look and listen and decide what you believe to be true.

Cure for Cabin Fever

Ironically, in my case, the cure for my cabin fever is a trip to the cabin. Further good medicine is a little Texas Bar-b-que.

Since the hubby and I aren't the toughest of road warriors, it's a two day drive for us to travel from our East Texas home to the little home in Colorado. We delayed our leaving an extra day, due to predictions of significant snow in the high country and we made plans to alter our route to avoid Raton Pass.

Let's face it folks, no matter where you live, your version of Winter will come along in January and February. After the holidays, it seems to just slow down to a dreary, cold and grey condition. It leaves me and probably you, bored, restless and depressed. And Spring? well,  that's weeks and weeks away. We're generally summer residents at our cabin, have actually never been there in the Winter. The fever of confinement and long time marriage made he and I say, "Oh my lord! We've got to get out of here." The plan, right or wrong,  was made for our tiny adventure of going to the mountains in January.

On our regular trips back and forth to the cabin, we glide pass the "quaint" Bar-b-que café in the small town of Nocona, Texas. Always surrounded by cars, it just never seems to be the right time for us to stop and eat.  On the first day of our trip, the scent of meat smoking drifted in with the warm air of the heater and smelled so good, as we rolled through a north Texas town.  "We could make it to Nocona and try the café." We were in perfect agreement.  A situation that had not existed at all in recent history.

We exited the car in a blustering and refrigerated wind and made our way into the former gas station that was now a café.  Atmosphere? this place reeked of it, a certain down home redneck ambience filled the rustic establishment. A life size poster of John Wayne and various entertaining signs and wonderful aromas permeated everything. A heater glowed on one wall but the patrons never took off their coats. The locals chattered loudly of their work, the cold and other small town gossip.  We ordered one plate, brisket, sausage, potato salad, coleslaw, toast and plastic forks and knives... knowing that it would be enough for at least two and staked out a small wooden table.

While awaiting the food that smelled so good, it had your stomach tight in anticipation, I took the key that was attached to the real horseshoe from the hook by the front door. Out into the cold, I hustled under the roof that had once sheltered cars pumping gas and down a long and very skinny hall. Sort of reminded me of scenes in many horror movies, dim bulb flickering above.  Surprise! inside the restroom that was as clean as a facility of the age and design can be, a little old heater blazed away and it was toasty warm. Only one ceramic grate was lit by the blue flames, the other two broken and non functioning, it was doing a fantastic job. I could've lived in there for a while.

The welcome and food was great and there was a nice feeling of sharing a warm haven and meal in familiar surroundings. A great break in the day. We were laughing and chatting with strangers that didn't feel so strange, the heavy Winter clouds didn't look nearly as threatening, the wind banged around the tin roof but it felt safe and comforting inside. We kind of liked each other.  Up ahead, by the next afternoon, those gorgeous white capped mountains rose into view in a cold blue haze and we would arrive at the cabin by mid afternoon. We would be opened up and warmed up in less than two hours.

A change of scenery and a change of attitude. It is truly medicine for the soul. Just because you've never tasted it, doesn't mean you won't like it. It just might be the best thing you ever tried.  Go ahead, take a bite.

Who Said Murphy Could Make a Law!

I did some research, looked for this Murphy guy. Seems that he is more of a conglomeration of identities and yet he made this damnable law; If anything can happen...it will. Mr. Murphy may come from undetermined origins, but the law is dead on and I do believe it.  Stuff is going to happen and change will occur. 

Are you prepared for change?  It's actually what "Prepping" is all about. You can bet your bottom on stuff and change.  Being prepared for things that might happen and for your world to change will insure that you can weather Mr. Murphy's certainty of calamity. You better prepare physically and mentally because change, for good or bad is inevitable.

In these years that have stacked up on me, I've found some truths. The acceptance of these facts makes me a much happier person:

                       *Your body will age. No matter how many magic creams you use, no matter how much you might nip and tuck, cover and conceal...the gray hair is there in reality, the wrinkles and pull of gravity are not an option.  You're not special and time will not spare you that change. You may look more beautifully preserved in your casket but you will be just as dead as I am in mine.

                      *Genes and chance are not controllable. There is no option, not a box to check when genes are distributed. You get what you get. You would be foolish to not give a thought to lifestyle or avail yourself of modern medicine. However, who hasn't known someone that was an extreme health "nut", the person who ate right, exercised, everything in moderation, was smart and careful...yet, they dropped dead of a heart attack, got cancer, got ran over by a bus, went to have a tooth pulled and never came back home again.  You shouldn't give up everything in life that brings you pleasure and punish yourself with every new piece of advice on living a long life that is touted because chance doesn't care if you ate your vegetables.

                    *Moderation. One of the hardest truths to accept in our world of excess. A little of a lot of things is plenty.  A little butter on your toast (a little toast) won't be the death of you, a couple of alcoholic drinks smooth out the rough edges and calm the tense and worried mind, a little walk is better than sitting in the chair and a little patience makes living your life in the close company of another human being a lot more enjoyable.  A "little" will get you a long way.

                   *Children and puppies do not stay cute and cuddly. But, it's too late, you've already become extremely attached and they bring immeasurable joy to your life. They also remind you of the stuff that can happen and the change that will come.

                   *Change. Life and the world changes with every breath that is taken and every day that dawns.  In a flash, in the next moment, the flowing disruption in the pattern of our existence never ceases.

This mysterious Murphy, he had it right.  Preparing for the sure change, the best I can, gives me peace.  I'm aging, it's okay. Often quite enjoyable.  "I y'am what I y'am," said Popeye. I'll try in moderation to balance those genes that I inherited.  There has been a conscious decision to not adopt any more puppies but my children, love of them and from them is a positive constant.  None of us knows what will happen ahead, but we can know how we will face it.