A proud symbol of a great nation.

    On Super Bowl Sunday around 2 o'clock I heard a loud and boisterous racket in my back yard. It sounded like the usual suspects, crows cawing their irritating cry at the top of their lungs. We have them often and I frequently step on to the back deck and clap my hands to run them out of my back yard. But Sunday was different because they weren't in the yard, but high in tree behind my neighbors yard. I started to make some noise and run them off when I suddenly discovered what they were squawking about. They were actually fussing at a very large bird perched steadfastly at the top of the tree. He had his back to me so I couldn't identify him at first. We have turkey vultures occasionally but this bird seemed even larger and I couldn't see his head.

   The crows kept up their vicious and irritating cacophony and even flying all around the giant bird steadfastly perched in the tree. I knew it had to be a vulture or a large raptor so I went back into the house and grabbed my camera and long lens so I could take a picture and identify who was causing all the problems. He turned his head just as I snapped my first pic and when I looked at the picture I realized that it was a raptor indeed, an American Bald Eagle. My heart jumped for joy, for I had never seen one this close and certainly I didn't expect to find it right behind my house. I started taking multiple shots of the great bird and his annoying entourage and finally decided to walk around to the opposite side and get a frontal  view. I had to walk around my neighbors homes and I'm sure they were curious as I stood in front of their homes and saw me aiming my camera above their houses to get my shots. As those of you who photograph wildlife know, you never really know what you captured until you see the image on your computer.

   I finished my walk around and thought it curious that he remained firmly perched in the tree. I went back into the house and quickly looked at some of the pictures. Cheryl popped in and I told her about my sighting and invited her to join me to see if he was still there. We walked onto the deck and discovered that he had not moved. She went to the neighbor's fence and said, "Why don't we go into his back yard and get a better view?" She led the way and I kept the camera at the ready. The closer we got to his tree, the more he kept his eyes on us. Finally, we reached the danger zone and he leapt from his perch. His pesky crows followed as he flew over the neighbors houses toward the street. Cheryl kept him in sight and sure enough he alighted atop an electrical pole on the corner of my street. We approached him again and as we crossed the street he again leapt from his perch. This time he landed on another limb of a nearby tree. We again approached the new perch and finally he jumped off and started a long soaring flight that took him far above the range of the crows and us. After a few minutes, he descended and again he was joined by the pesky crows. He continued soaring in high circles and eventually disappeared from our sight.

   I didn't discover the reason for his stubborn behavior until I viewed one of the shots I had taken through a canopy of limbs and enlarged with my photo app. He firmly held a fairly large rodent in his beak, that had been fully dressed and readied for consumption. Obviously, this is what attracted the frenzied entourage of cawing crows. It also explains why the eagle didn't attempt to run them off, as he wasn't about to let go of his prey. I would like to think it was the squirrel who has been raiding my bird feeders on my deck. I wonder if you can train eagles to get rid of your squirrel problems? Forget it, Cheryl wouldn't let me do it anyway.

  


Giving me the "eagle eye"

 

Pesky crows won't leave him alone



I think I look majestic, don't you?

They are getting too close, time to go



Looking for another perch



It's a little open up here



I'll find a better place to perch

Much better

I'm tired of these crows and that guy down there looks suspicious



Come on crows, see if you can fly like me



Lets do a little soaring



Nice try

Good-bye crow bait

I am the symbol of a mighty nation, I am strong, I am majestic, I am invincible.
 God Bless the United States of America for which I stand!



Another Memorable Fall Season

   Every year Cheryl and I go to some favorite spots to check out the color in the neighborhood. Last year was not a good year for color but this year produced some beautiful views that we would like to share with you. They say that 'wet' years are not as colorful as 'dry' years and I would have to agree with that, as this year has been 'dry' and last year was 'wet'. Most of these were taken on Veterans Day but some are earlier, the peak was probably 10 days later this year than last. I still have a golden maple in my back yard that has not even started changing yet.
   We look on this season as a gift from God, a colorful interlude before the harshness of winter sets in. The North Carolina piedmont produces pale yellows to bright vivid yellows to deep goldens to orange to red-orange to bright red to deep reds to purple. Combined with the blues in the sky, we are treated to a rainbow of  pleasant hues to color our palates in our mind's eye.  We are grateful and thankful that we live in an area that provides so much rich natural beauty.

 

 

 

 

Searching for a Silver Bullet

  

   We both lay on our backs looking up into that vast Texas summer sky which appeared as a sea of darkness, sprinkled with specks of planets and twinkling stars. The shimmering landscape below was lit by a fully waxed moon. At almost thirteen years old, neither of us had been to an ocean, but the unrestricted panorama that colored the palates of our minds eyes easily brought visions that must have fascinated every seaman since Noah. The old quilts we lay on were just soft enough to blend with the sand that lay beneath us. The day's heat had been unbearable, and since we had no real air conditioners in our houses we opted to camp out in the back yard; and perhaps even stay up all night. Charlie was the quiet type and often just smiled when you expected him to say something. It wasn't that he didn't have anything of value to say, he was simply the careful type who thought before he spoke. That was one of the things I liked about him.

   We met in the sixth grade; I was new to the school and he had been there since the first grade. We became friends because we both walked the same route home; his house was a long block before you got to my home. We discovered that we both loved baseball and football and we both loved to watch old horror movies on television. Charlie became my very best friend and we thoroughly enjoyed hanging out together. My mother was ill with cancer and Charlie would come in and visit with her; telling her humorous stories that made her laugh. His Mom was a cheerful lady with a heart of gold. Her name was Lily and she was one of those folks who chose to be happy in spite of any circumstance. She had two sons, and though Charlie was the pensive type, his older brother was a rachet-jawed purveyor of hateful dialogue who spread dissention everywhere he went. They were a typical dysfunctional family and Charlie was destined to be the most successful of the bunch. Neither of us were straight A students that year, but we both made better than average grades.
   "What do you want to do when you grow up?, he asked.
   I stared deep into the great vastness of the unending sky and realized that I had no idea what I wanted to be. College was out of the question; Dad struggled to pay the doctor bills and I wasn't going to qualify for any kind of scholarship.
   "I don't know, but I know that I don't want to be a bricklayer like Dad; he has to work too hard and he has to travel to find work." I finally said.
   Charlie's Dad was a city bus driver who had made a career of civil service and earned just enough to keep his family fed and clothed. The city bus line ran next to his home, so he rode the bus to work everyday. Like my family, they had a modest home and a television and they struggled to make ends meet. Our Mom's and Dad's loved us and sacrificed to provide all our needs; it was the mid-1950's and our needs were not great.
   "I'd like to go to Texas A&M and join the Aggie Corp of cadets." He said.
   "I don't know how, but I'd really like to go and learn to be a veterinarian, I like animals and I'd like to learn to be a Vet."
   Now I was a TCU Horned Frog fan and I hated the Aggies, but Charlie was my best friend, so I said, "I hope you can go there, if I ever get a dog, I'll bring him to you when he is sick." I then rolled my eyes back to the heavens and thought, 'I'm not smart enough to go to college and my folks can't afford it, and his can't either, but boy wouldn't that be wonderful.'
   We then switched to talking about girls that we liked and about football teams and players that we followed at TCU, and Texas A&M, and in the Southwest Conference.
The stars were rolling across ever so slowly as we talked and pondered the unfathomable questions of the universe. Who would win the World Series this year? When would our families be able to afford a color TV? When would we be able to get our driver's license? Why were the Dodger's going to Los Angeles? How many stars were in the sky? How far can you see? What exactly was it like to kiss a girl?
   After serious discussion on each of these issues we checked our watches and discovered that it was nearly four o'clock, and we were suddenly feeling a wee bit tired.
In fact, we were exhausted and by four-thirty we were both sound asleep. The universal questions were unanswered and the silent universe slowly kept on rolling above our heads. A brilliant Texas morning sun rudely pried open my eyes and I could feel the intensity of it's heat before I fully awoke. I pulled my quilt underneath the large leaves of the nearby sycamore tree and managed to get a few more moments of sleep, until the blue jay landed overhead and began squawking at the top of his lungs. We got up and managed to wake up enough to eat a bowl of Cheerios before Charlie had to go home. I managed to get several naps during the day to make up for the loss of sleep.
   The following night was Saturday night and the local TV station had a regularly scheduled horror show that lasted till after midnight. We always watched it at his home because we didn't want to disturb my Mother so late. The walk to his home was a very long block that equated to two regular city blocks, but there was a sidewalk all the way from my corner down to the front of his house. I went down early enough to eat supper because Lily always had a hearty meal prepared. We had meatloaf and mashed potatoes and green peas along with a  slice of delicious lemon meringue pie. Charlie had a rabbit hutch out behind his house so we went out after supper and fed his pet rabbits and then played with them in the grass. It was the first time I had ever seen a lop-eared rabbit. Afterwards, we gathered around the TV and watched the Perry Como show and Red Skelton and then at ten-thirty the horror feature began. Lily popped some popcorn on the stove in a pan and then gave each of us a bowl of our own to munch on as we watched the feature. That night the original 'Wolfman' was showing and both Lon Chaney and Bela Lugosi were featured. Before the age of CGI, we actualized the horror in our minds and we were literally scared out of our wits. Our popcorn had been devoured and both of us sat wide-eyed as the movie ended shortly after midnight. As I wondered where I might find a silver bullet to keep around, I realized that I now had to walk home alone. I said,
   "Uhh, Charlie, why don't you walk with me and we can talk about our plans for tomorrow."
   "Uhh, sure but you could uh, you could just call me tomorrow." He responded.
   "But I've got some things to talk about now, while I've got them on my mind. Come on; just walk with me half-way at least."
   "O.K. I'll go half-way with you." He said with bravado.
   He was my friend and though he too was terrified, he would do his part. We started out briskly and stayed close as we walked silently down the long sidewalk. The walk seemed unusually long that night and the air seemed cooler than the previous night. The moon was behind a cloud and there were no streetlights; it was as pitch black as the previous night had been brilliantly lit. Just as we reached the half-way point, the full moon lurched from behind the clouds and as if on cue a neighbor's dog simultaneously cut loose a blood-curdling howl that made our hair stand on end. We looked into each other's saucer-sized eyes and without a word, one and the other made the same decision. The two of us broke into a sprint in opposite directions and the last thing I heard was Charlie's voice trailing back over his shoulder,
   "I'LL   call    you     tomorrooowww !"
   We were close for several years and then we drifted apart in High School as he played football and I played in the band. We had a few classes together in high school, but somehow we were never the same as we had been earlier. Charlie realized his dream and went to Texas A&M University where he was a part of the Corp.  He didn't become a Vet, but he got a good job after attending there. I got a job that reimbursed my tuition, so I attended TCU Evening College for a few years and acquired a two year Management Certificate. Over the next few years I attended TWC in Ft Worth and Regis College in Denver; and eventually, I graduated from Amber University in Dallas. Neither of us thought we would ever have the chance to attend college, but we took advantage of the opportunities we had. We remain friends until this day, but we seldom see each other. He still lives in Texas and I live in North Carolina. Both of our parents have passed on and we are both married with families of our own. He was a true friend and I regret that our paths took such divergent directions. The last time I saw him, he was the same gentle spirit as when we were boys, still careful to speak and considerate of others. He is a true Texas gentleman and a great childhood friend.

   In the ensuing years, I have learned the answer to most of our questions from that summer night.
1. The Milwaukee Braves beat the Yankees in the '57 World Series.
2. My folks never could afford a color TV, I bought one for myself in 1968.
3. I got my driver's license in 1961.
4. The Dodgers moved because the City of Brooklyn wouldn't build Walter O'Mally a new stadium.
5. I still don't know how many stars are in the sky.
6. I don't have a clue how far you can see.
7. Karen Westernhagen helped me figure out that kissing thing the following year.
8. I'm still searching for that silver bullet.

Post Op

   I had back surgery three weeks ago. My spinal specialist performed a procedure to add another layer to my existing spinal fusion, so now I have 3 vertebrae fused with clamps and rods in my lumbar region. I believe the procedure was a remarkable success, as all of my pre-surgery issues have been removed. No more sciatica from my lower back to my feet in both legs, no more walking like Quasimodo from the Hunchback of Notre Dame, and no more sharp jabs of pain that buckled my knees when I coughed or sneezed. Modern medical science is truly awesome when applied to your ailments.




   When all is said and done the medical expenses will exceed $100,000. Thank God for my retirement insurance and Medicare Advantage coverage. My sweet wife asked me if I realized that I could have had someone remove the stump from our backyard for about $150 and I could have avoided all the pain and discomfort I have suffered over the past 4-5 months. Yes ma'am and I promise never to do it again. Honest.



The $100,000 glory hole.

 

A deluded 72 year old man who had to prove he could dig out the stump.

   The only redeeming aspect of the whole process is that my kids, my family and many good friends have all stayed in close touch and I have felt their love and support throughout the ordeal. It was a real plus two weeks after the surgery when my son Darren and granddaughter Taylor paid me a visit. I was not in top form but it rallied my spirits to share some time with them and my son David's family in Virginia.

 

 

I really loved that man

I'm a duffer, always have been, always will be. I was attracted to golf at an early age and followed many champions until he came along in the late 50's. As a kid in west Texas, I learned to like golf and the current champion Ben Hogan, but it was the youth and energy that the new star brought to the game that captured my imagination. My Dad was not a golfer and I couldn't afford a set of clubs until I worked a second job at Montgomery Wards in my early twenties. While I was learning the game, my hero was winning tournaments across the country and I became a member of "Arnie's Army". Chi Chi, Lee Trevino, Gary Player  and many more rose in the ranks, but Arnie was always my favorite.

 I followed him all of his active playing time until the mid-nineties when he retired. I loved and adored his playing skills, his style of playing, his dressing style (with the soft sweaters covering a different colored polo underneath) his genuine humility and his generosity toward others. I admire the man's character above his playing skills. He was not just a golfer, he flew his own private jet from match to match because family time mattered, he became a successful business man with his own line of clothing and canned drinks, he designed new golf courses, and  he created charities and a couple of new hospitals to share the blessings he had been given. He was a caring, sharing man.

I kept up with his infrequent appearances on the Senior Tour as I now live in North Carolina. My company had an agreement to furnish the marshals at the Vantage Senior Tournament at Tanglewood in Winston-Salem and I volunteered to be a marshal with my friends. I actually met and spoke to many greats like Lee Trevino, Chi Chi Rodriguiz, and Gary Player, but I always wanted that one chance to exchange pleasantries with the "King of Golf", and it finally came.

I was working on the par 5, fourteenth hole as a marshal at mid-point of the fairway where tee shots land. At the 250-300 yard marker the hole has three fairway bunkers covering a dogleg right on the right side to protect from incoming shots. I was stationed at the right side and charged with spotting the ball for the incoming golfers as they launched their tee shots. I inched out into the fairway and squatted to get a view of the next shot. The X on the map below indicates where I waited for Arnie, and finally his turn came up.

I kept waiting and then one of the marshals hand signaled me to move back. When I did, Arnie hit his tee shot into the middle of the fairway. I awaited my opportunity to see my hero as he drove to his ball. No opportunity to speak, I merely watched the great man, Arnold Palmer, play through.

My friend who was working as marshal on the tee box came running up to my position as Arnie played through.
"Why did you wave me back?" I asked.
He was laughing as he said, "You should have heard what he said about you".
Thinking how fortunate I was that the "king" of golf and my longtime idol had actually noticed me, I responded "What do you mean?".
My friend replied, "He said to tell that 'idiot' to get off the fairway so I can hit my tee shot"
Not what I was hoping for Arnie but, now that you have a better view of things, it was me and I still love you man.