The Land Of Almost Right

When we take time to look back over our lives, we are often able to identify moments which influence the remainder of our time on this earth.  Having spent a considerable amount of time in the military, I was exposed to a variety of body art in the form of tattoos.  Even a couple of my children have gotten small and tasteful tattoos at various times over the years.  I figure they are all adults(chronologically at least) and if they can handle getting poked with needles thousands of times to be able to display their personal idea of art...power to them.

On occasion, usually while sitting and having something cool to drink, and finalizing solutions for all the world's problems, I am asked if I ever contemplated getting some body art of my own.  Surely, during all those years spent in the service, I had to have contemplated a tattoo to commemorate my exploits on foreign shores.  I will respond that, yes, I toyed with the idea of a tattoo occasionally, but was never able to decide what it would be or where it would be located that wouldn't cause terminal embarassment when displayed.  Then all thoughts of a tattoo came to a sudden halt while spending a year in Korea, known affectionately by the chamber of commerce as "The Land Of the Morning Calm".

Korea is, even today, a remote or unaccompanied tour for most soldiers.  This means being left to your own devices when it comes to finding entertainment, without the minimal supervision of family and friends.  Sitting in the Yongson video arcade one evening, I noticed a very sheepish soldier getting ribbed unmercifully by a couple of his buddies.  I finally asked why they were being so rough on him, and they laughingly told him to show me.  He gingerly raised his sleeve to reveal a very tender, fresh image of the seal of the United States Army.  The eagle was resplendent in the still bright colors, and it took a second look to see that emblazoned over the eagle was the caption;   

"U.S. AMRY"

Yankee Chili & other Abominations

One of the great things about being in the Army or one of the other services, is that you get to move around this great country of ours and see how differently people live.  When my Lovely Bride and I first joined up, we stayed in San Antonio for the first three years, and the only thing different was the direction I drove to work.  So it was with some anticipation we made our first PCS move, with our first assignment outside Texas being to Fort Knox in Kentucky.  I had always heard of Kentucky being a Southern state, and in my naive mind imagined it would be much like East Texas.  After studying a highway atlas, I discovered that Kentucky was farther north than even Oklahoma, and that Fort Knox was just down the Ohio River from Cincinnati! 

After arriving and starting the settling in process, we drove up Dixie Highway to Louisville to scout out the lay of the land, and explore shopping opportunities.  While there we decided to try out a Mexican restaurant which had been highly recommended by my new co-workers.  In the past, I had occasionally encountered confused souls who claimed to not like Mexican food, and I had never understood them.  After all, how could anyone not like the greasy, spicy, cheesy delights of enchiladas, tamales and tacos?  After sampling what was described to us as the best Louisville had to offer, it became all too clear.  We learned to stock up whenever we made a trip south of the Red River, and the LB learned to scrounge for ingredients in the post comissary and to cook her own Tex-Mex.

My next gastronomic upset came soon after reporting to work in the post hospital.  There was a snack bar in the basement which had a pretty extensive short-order menu, and most of us ate there each day.  One day I walked in and noticed a new sign on the wall advertising Chili Dogs.  That sounded like just the thing to me and so ordered one.  I paid the cashier for lunch while the counter man was getting my order, and I glanced up just as he was ladling the chili onto the dog.  Only it looked like no chili I had ever seen in my life.  It had spaghetti noodles hanging off my hot dog for chrissakes!  I truly learned that day I was not in Texas anymore.  Later, I found that noodles was only one of many unnatural substances with which chili was adulterated in that region...cinnamon, cloves, cardomom and chocolate were routinely used as seasonings.  This was pretty unsettling for me, since I had only recently come to accept the possibility that beans could be added to chili and still be called chili.

 We discovered that each new duty station brought the opportunity to experience new foods and cultures, and happily, most of them were much better than that spurious chili.  In Korea - chop chae, kimbop, and yakimandoo became favorites which we still sample when the opportunity arises.  Raw ahi, shredded dried squid, charsiu bao, and lumpia all bring back fond memories of other assignments.  But please...no clove flavored spaghetti sauce on my hot dog!

Our First Christmas Tree

Christmas is one of those times of the year which is guaranteed to cause old memories to resurface.  We remember those we loved who are no longer with us, and if we are lucky, we remember the happy times we shared while they were here.  It is also a time to look back at years past and remember those moments which we have carried into the present with us and incorporated into our lives and celebrations. 

This year my Lovely Bride and I are again preparing to celebrate Christmas.  We will have a couple of the girls and their significant others over, as well as my mother-in-law, for Christmas Day.  So far, decorations have been limited to a few outside lights and a tree.  A new artificial, pre-lighted tree has taken center stage, but as I sit and look at it twinkling, I can't help but think of the first tree we shared back before we ever talked about getting married.

We were both in college; she was studying Food Science at Sam Houston State, and I was deep in clinicals at HBU.  I was living in a ramshackle apartment building in Montrose, existing on 'mater and onion sandwiches since money was pretty tight.  She would come down to Houston on weekends to type my papers and cook real food for me.  Even then, she was taking care of me.  One weekend in December she arrived, finding me sitting staring at the walls in a funk.  She decided I needed to have some sort of Christmas decorations to help cheer me up, and keep me from focusing solely on my upcoming mid-terms.  There was no money for a tree, but I had an old stand and a few decorations.  We loaded up in my '69 Dodge Dart and headed for the country.

I had grown up northwest of Houston on a remote farm which was still in the family.  A decade or so before, I had helped my father plant a thousand or so pine seedlings to try to control erosion.  Most had survived and young trees had sprung up amongst the more mature trees.  These small trees were the perfect size, and price, for us.  The pasture was pretty soggy from recent rains, so we walked the 1/4 mile or so to look for the perfect tree.  Looking back, the only thing which was perfect was the pricetag!  They were the wrong kind of trees, had never been shaped, and each had a multitude of bugs living in them.  But it was what we could afford.

We eventually picked out and cut a tree, and started dragging it across the pasture to the car.  As we got closer, cold drops of rain starting falling, causing us to drop the tree and duck into the hay barn.  We sat in the doorway watching the rain, and immediately every cow on the place headed towards us.  After all, the only time that door was opened was when it was feeding time.  My LB-to-be was fascinated by the cows milling about just inches away.  For a city girl, she got to experience a lot of firsts that day, yet never panicked.  She learned why you wear boots when you work around cows, and I think her love affair with living in the country started at that point.

I don't remember what that tree looked like after it was decorated, and no pictures exist.  I couldn't tell you what I received for Christmas that year.  Thirty five years later, what I do remember is us going together to pick it out, and in the process, learning more about each other and about ourselves together.

Greetings from Ponca City.

Greetings from Ponca City. The Lovely Bride and I are gradually making our way homeward towards Naruna. While visiting our first-born and her family outside of Omaha, we learned there was to be a book signing in Ponca City by Ree Drummond to help promote her newly released cookbook, The Pioneer Woman Cooks. If you are not familiar with her, a visit to her website is in order. 


She is a former ballet dancer and vegetarian who found true love in the prairies of northern Oklahoma with a homegrown cowboy. She now lives on a humongous ranch populated by cows, wild horses, cowboys and wild children. Renouncing her vegan ways after discovering the glories of beef, she has gone on to start a food-oriented blog where she posts some of the most wonderful recipes known to man. My personal favorites are her Creamed Spinach and Apple Dumplings, although pretty much everything the LB has tried on me has been wonderful. In her spare time, she home schools her four kids, produces some professional quality photography, and takes care of all the usual chores of a ranch wife.

After following her life via the web for the past couple of years, a chance to meet her face-to-face could not be passed up.  Although we had never stopped in Ponca City, it is close to the route we usually take.  We drove from Omaha and found a room for the night.  We then went exploring the wonders of dining out in northern Oklahoma on a Friday night, finding some delightful looking, yet curiously under-seasoned Italian food.

The next morning found us at the bookstore where the signing was to occur. We picked up our line tickets, assuring us a place in the first group of signees. A few minutes before the appointed hour hordes of eager fans began to gather, waiting for their first glimpse of Ree. Sure enough, she walked in right on time accompanied by her oldest daughter, and started greeting her public and autographing books. The LB and I got to chat with them for a couple of minutes and pose for a picture before the line moved us along and out the door to our waiting chariot. All in all, a pleasant encounter. So I was taken by surprise when the LB proclaimed she was disappointed. When I asked why, she revealed she had really been hoping to see Ree’s husband, the infamous Marlboro Man, to see if he was as cute in person as online!

Have I mentioned before that being married to a woman for 34 years doesn’t mean you ever get to understand her?

A child again...

What is it about certain places or activities which cause us to revert to those simpler ways of our youth?  Zoos are some of the places we visit which make us all feel like kids again.  When I was little and my parents first took me to the Houston Zoo, they expected me to focus in on the lions and tigers and bears (Oh my!).  If not the large carnivores, then they were sure I would be taken by the monkeys and their antics.  Instead, I apparently spent the entire day chasing pigeons, much to their amusement.

Fast forward fifty years and it is still the simpler side of zoos which bring out the kid in us all.  While visiting our grandkids and their parents who recently moved to a suburb of Omaha, we visited the Henry Doorly Zoo.  This is a really neat place, having some tremendous new venues for viewing animals in natural settings.  There is a Desert Dome, which actually contains biospheres from several different parts of the world, an IMAX theater, and new large cat and ape buildings. 

While strolling the grounds after seeing most of the exhibits, we happened up on a covered bridge leading back toward the exit.  The grandkids kept scampering back and forth across the picturesque structure, while the grandparents stopped in the middle to rest up a little.  The Lovely Bride discovered there were fish food dispensers, and sure enough, swarms of brightly colored koi in the waters below.  The adults spent 20 minutes watching over-fed carp climbing over each other in an attempt to grab the morsels falling from above.

Who says you can't recapture your youth?

Finally, a little Fall!

  It has been a busy month around Naruna, finally getting new floors installed and almost immediately having the oldest daughter and the three grand-girls arrive for a week-long visit.  Along with them came family friends & high school chums wanting to have a chance to catch up on all that has happened since Jennifer got married to her Aggie/Cornhusker, left Texas for points north, and got into the baby business. 

  Peace and tranquility has now returned, along with some cooler weather.  September was a rainy month, with Naruna receiving almost 4.3".  This caused everything to turn green, cooled things off, and persuaded the county to drop the burn ban for the time being.  Highs this weekend have been in the mid 70s, so the Lovely Bride and I embarked on a short road trip Saturday. 

  We headed down the highway to Johnson City, home of LBJ, 36th President of the United States, where we tried out a new breakfast spot.  The Silver K Cafe, http://www.silverkcafe.com/menu/index.html , was new to us, and most of what they offered on their breakfast buffet was very good.  Eggs Benedict is not something I expect to find in Hill Country diners, and the Silver K's version was excellent.  The LB tried some blueberry pancakes with walnuts which were light, yet filling.  My only disappointment was when I made a second trip(I'll never learn) through the buffet to try their interpretation of biscuits and gravy.  The biscuits were excellent, but the alleged sausage gravy tasted like none I had ever tried.  Maybe in an attempt to make it "healthy" they used something other than standard pork sausage.  At any rate, it didn't agree with me, and I kept wishing I had gotten another of the wonderful Eggs Benedict instead.  Definitely worth a return trip.

  Heading west on Hwy 290, we passed the Johnson ranch, now a National Park, and motored along enjoying the beautiful day until we came to the Wildseed Farm between Stonewall and Fredericksburg.  http://www.wildseedfarms.com/index.html  This complex is a combination lunch counter, bierstube, and nursery specializing in plants either native to or well adapted to life in central Texas.  Their main claim to fame is that they grow wildflowers of all different persuasions on a grand scale, harvest the seeds, and offer them up for sale to all who want to beautify their corner of the world, wherever that may be.  This was my reason for getting out, and I quickly picked out a couple pounds of the mixtures deemed best for our neck of the woods.  However, the LB was more interested in the multitude of crafts and gift items which were available and so it took awhile before we made good our escape.

  Rather than retracing our steps, we turned west again and cruised down the main drag in Fredericksburg.  This interesting German town has become a huge tourist magnet in recent years, and with the perfect weather, there were no parking spots to be found anywhere.  Not being in the mood for crowds, we turned north and took the winding road toward Llano.  Another festival greeted us there, with the courthouse square being packed with BBQ pits, chuck wagons, and people trying to get close to them.  We slowed down, smelled the aroma of beef being cooked by folks who know what they are doing, and continued on our way. 

  One of the blessings of living where we do, is the abundance of interesting back roads which can be used to reach almost any destination.  So it was that we wandered through the villages of Cherokee, Chappel, Bend and Nix before turning toward Naruna.  Arriving home, I took my newly acquired seeds and went out to sow them in the ditches in front of our house.  Of course, it is impossible to perform any task without having assistance, here in the form of Ruby Jean.  You may remember she is a curious mixture of canine odds 'n ends, which my Lovely Bride and her veterinarians have decided is most likely chihuahua and yorkshire terrier.  The two choices of what to call her are either a "Chorkie" or the slightly more palatable "Yorkiehuahua".  This is the kind of world I get to live in!  At least the orphans the LB continues to drag home seem to be getting smaller.

Meetin' n eatin'

There is something special about small rural churches. Our church in Naruna has been around for more than 137 years, with ups and downs in attendance through the decades. Most of the members belong to the same families who settled the area and still reside on family ranches. There are more than a few state designated "Texas Family Heritage Ranches" in Naruna, meaning they have been in the same family and used in agriculture for more than a hundred years.

A church constant over the years is an overwhelming compulsion to eat anytime a group gets together. I think this is true of most churches, and have seen it over and over again as we moved around the world. Of course this eating compulsion works both ways, since attendance is usually the highest on Sundays when there is a "dinner on the grounds" after church services.

One variation of this at our church is to occasionally host a breakfast before Sunday School. Some of the men get up early and cook bacon, eggs, sausage and pancakes for however many people wander in. For some variety, we'll also fry tortillas, potatoes, peppers, & onions so folks can put together breakfast tacos. This is the kind of gathering popular with families since they don't have to feed the kids...all they have to do is get them up and dressed a little early.

The time spent preparing these breakfasts is some of the most productive in enjoying fellowship and getting church business conducted. Formal meetings have their place, but it's hard to stand on protocol when you are flipping pancakes or frying eggs. Of course, there are some problems that go along with feeding folks before church...will they be able to stay awake until the invitation?