Wright Writes
Last Update: 08/30/2010
Introduction Christmas Plate Christmas 2009 American History Terrorist in Tadmor This is who I am
Thank you for being a friend Remember Frank Robinson Valentines Day 2010 Lucky the Horse Currys Store
Texas Independence Day 2010 Southern Hospitality Nanotechnology Health Care Downtown Houston and the Rice Hotel
Spider Webs Duty Honor Country Muehlebach Beer Glen Rose 2010 Separation of Church and State White One
Sherron Benton Simmons Wright General Store Sylva North Carolina HPD Reunion 2010 Question and Answer
Front Porch 209 Main MyFace Sgt Esterhaus Times are Changin'
December 7, 2009
I suppose you have noticed that this is a new column in the Houston County Courier. My occasional Letters to the Editor initiated emails from “fans.” One person said she enjoyed my "writes" and right after that I received a communiqué from the Courier’s Editor. She had already named the column, so here we are.
There is a bit of irony in all this as I think back to the sixties when other interests seemed to come between me and Senior English. You see back then I didn’t make the grade so today my certificate of G.E.D. from the State of Texas is in a manila folder, properly, organized, tucked away in my file cabinet. Mrs. Vanderburg who taught at Silsbee High School is no longer with us but I hope that somehow, after all of these years, I am vindicated.
And finally another interesting twist which involves my son and daughter-in-law who live in Kennard. A week or so ago the Houston County Courier took down their old sign and put up a new one. April happened to see the old sign, stopped in and asked if she could have it. A phone call was made to Lloyd and now the black and white, somewhat tattered, sixteen foot long Courier sign is in April and Lloyd’s house. You would have to seen their house to understand, but theirs may be the only house in Houston County which could accommodate such a sign.
Now let me see, where did I put that G.E.D.?
THE CHRISTMAS PLATE FROM M.D. ANDERSON
I pay regular visits to the M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston. I have been going there at least once a month since 2005. A few weeks ago I made medical history when I became the first patient to receive a heart catheterization in M.D. Anderson’s brand new Cardiac Catheterization Unit. But before we went up the elevator we noticed that in the lobby of the main building the volunteers had recently set up their Christmas store.
Of course the chief items for sale there are the cards designed by the children of M.D. Anderson. However, as I entered the store an oversized blue plate caught my eye. Margaret and I spent some time perusing through the beautiful cards, men’s ties, aprons, book bags and more, but I kept going back to the blue plate. We finally agreed upon a box of cards which pictured a simple watercolor design of the three wise men.
Through the pens and brushes of a child the greatest story ever told was conveyed. But I kept thinking of the plate, so Margaret told me to go ahead and get it. The plate was dark royal blue with stars scattered about. Around the border were rows of brightly colored buildings. Now I have been to Bethlehem on two occasions and the plate reminds me of the pictures of the area which live in my mind’s eye. The greatest event in the history of mankind occurred on the slopes of that valley just under the little town of Bethlehem.
The plate is a beautiful work of art which I will cherish. The artwork was created by a 14 year old boy from Houston named Carlo. Merry Christmas and God bless Carlo and all the kids who use their talents to raise money which will help cancer patients all over the world.
Merry Christmas. These two words express a traditional greeting which has been used by millions of people in the United States and all over the world for centuries. Christmas is a time of worship and celebration of the birth of Jesus as told in the Gospels. For most, the greeting brings a degree of happiness, hope, expectation and evokes many poignant memories. Family, friends, places, good food, a tree, lights, Santa Claus, gifts, children, faith and celebrations instantly come to mind. The greeting can bring a smile or a tear. My family and I cherish this season as we celebrate the birth of our Creator and Savior.
We also celebrate Santa Claus. Yes, I have heard it all – pagan time of year, pagan rituals, commercialism and the fact that Jesus wasn’t really born in December. While many thought that “Xmas” was taking Christ out of Christmas, the spelling does have ancient merit. For me personally, I would prefer to read ”Xmas” as opposed to hearing “Happy Holidays.” We rejoice in the words of Luke, “And this shall be a sign unto you; ye shall find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes, lying in a manger.”
And finally, in 1897 a letter to the editor of the New York Sun brought about this familiar response, “Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.” Merry Christmas.
Andy Griffith once told Opie and his friends about a gun so loud, the shot could be heard all around the world. You see, Andy was using his wisdom to get the boys to learn more about history. If you know the episode, you will remember that Andy was also trying to get himself out of hot water with Miss Crump, Opie’s school teacher. Now even if you have never heard of Andy, Opie, Aunt Bea or Barney, you may still get the point of this article.
For a moment let’s think of American history. The following questions can apply to all ages. Can you say more than a sentence about George Washington? What about Jefferson and Franklin? Did you know that a peace officer who stops you for speeding has to obey the laws set forth in our Constitution? Juneteenth is celebrated here in Houston County. How much do you know about it? Did you know that there were seven Presidents before George Washington? They were Presidents under the Articles of Confederation; Washington was the first under the Constitution. Have you ever read the Emancipation Proclamation, another noteworthy episode on the Andy Griffith show? It may surprise you.
One good source of ancient history is the Bible. Learn to use and enjoy the resources found in our public library. The internet is wonderful, however be sure you are on trusted sites. I hope this article stimulates interest in our history. Maybe it could be a New Year’s resolution. It is a lot easier than losing weight. And the old cliché, “They didn’t teach us that in school” is not a valid excuse. As I understand it, schools these days are teaching to the test and it may not be on the test. Maybe you can start by purchasing all of the old black and white episodes of the Andy Griffith Show.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Andy_Griffith_Show
So what’s the deal with these folks who want to blow us up here in the United States? I have lived in Loeb (now Lumberton), Bellaire (Houston), and Kennard, Texas. So far I don’t believe that I have met anyone that would make someone from Nigeria so mad that they would be willing to fly to America, rent a car and drive to Kennard just to engage in a fist fight. So how could the young man be so mad that he would stuff his underwear full of explosives and blow himself and everyone else up before they even touched down on American soil. I wouldn’t think that the fellow would even know how to get to Haggervile or Tadmor. Right now I think that I only personally know one person from Nigeria and she is one of my nurses at M.D. Anderson. I am just wondering if they are watching “I Love Lucy” or “Sanford and Son” reruns and that’s what is really making them mad.
Then I watch Fox News and wonder what Janet Napolitano is all about? I think I could get some guys from Houston County together and resolve some of these “terrorist” problems. It seems sometimes our leaders may be concentrating their efforts in the wrong direction. I once visited a church in Houston and learned that some senior adult ladies on a tour bus had been stopped while trying to cross Galveston Bay on the ferry. They had to get off the bus while it was being checked and they were all interrogated. Now they may be mad at the minister of music at their church for playing the music too loud during the worship service but I don’t think they would go so far as to blow up Galveston or what is left of Crystal Beach.
And let me ask you this, have you ever heard of a problem concerning security with El Al, the national airline of Israel? I remember traveling on one of their flights in 1973. I was standing in line when a uniformed man approached me. He was carrying a short automatic weapon over his shoulder. He asked me to follow him. I was then instructed to go into a little room and remove everything but my underwear. After experiencing that, “failed technology” seems to be a mute point.
When you read this I hope that I am comfortably recovering after having a valve replacement performed on my heart. Dr. Ott at St Luke’s Texas Heart Institute in Houston is my surgeon. So, I would like to take this opportunity to tell you who I am. First of all, this weekly article in the Courier is just a way of bringing to you a bit of praise, something interesting, a little humor or a challenge.
So who am I: I am a third generation Texan and Southerner since our people came from England, Scotland and Ireland. I also have just a touch of American Indian blood in my veins. I have a sense of humor, am a bit of a rebel, and play music with my family. I am a Christian and belong to a Southern Baptist Church. I consider myself a conservative but more liberal than some liberals that I know. I have a G.E.D. and am retired from the Navy Reserves and Houston Police Department. I own many guns but don’t hunt. I have a Phlegmatic personality which makes me pretty much consistent, relaxed, rational, curious, and observant. I tried smoking cigarettes, cigars and pipes but didn’t like them. I never drank a beer and can’t stand the taste of wine. I never drank a cup of coffee. Two my favorite movies are “To Kill a Mockingbird” and “The Wind and the Lion.” I have cancer and my mother, father and brother died of cancer. I am a Caucasian male but since my mother died when I was about three, I was raised by a black lady. She was there when I joined the Navy at age 19 and she was there when I came home four years later. I was born in 1947 and lived my early years in Loeb, Texas. My wife and I built our own log house near Kennard. I started and continue to run a major music festival in Palestine, Texas. In March the festival will be in its ninth year. My wife and I have run a jam session and open mic at the old Wooden Nickel and currently at the Camp Street Café since 1997. I have never been without a job since age 16 when I started out as an apprentice butcher at the Calder Big Star in Beaumont, Texas. I watch Fox News. When I was 27 I married Margaret Gardner Wright from Charleston, South Carolina. My youngest son was the Mountain Dulcimer National Champion in 2000. My oldest son has been a full time volunteer at public school since 2000. He currently works with Coach Denman at the Kennard School. I am an ordained deacon, donated a couple of gallons of blood over the years and love trees but don’t hug them. I have been shot at and have shot back. I am on FaceBook and not a member of AARP. I have been to Israel twice and in the “Summer of Love” I was standing at the intersection of Haight and Ashbury. I ran for Justice of the Peace once and lost. I am a bad speller and talk with a Southeast Texas accent. I lost a dear friend to AIDS who was a repented homosexual. I taught myself Visual Basic. I am proud of my Navy medals with the most important, the Navy Commendation Metal. Well, that’s about who the person who writes this article is. I hope that I am up walking around when this article is printed in the Courier.
Thank you for being a friend. A true close friend is a very important person in our life. Be honest and name your close friends. Keep in mind that an acquaintance, a neighbor or a person in the work place may not be a close friend. If you move or change jobs, will that true friendship follow you.
Friends of our youth may not remain friends since our interests and goals are developing and changing. Career paths and life styles will diminish a relationship with a high school friend. However, I have noticed that friendships may be rekindled later on in life through class reunions and such.
A true friend is a person you can talk to about good things and bad. They probably have the same religious and political beliefs but that is not always the case. A friend is willing to go out of their way to help. That type of friendship has to be developed over time.
Thank you for being a friend – The following was written by Andrew Gold: “Traveled down the road and back again - your heart is true you're a pal and a confidant. I'm not ashamed to say - I hope it always will stay this way - My hat is off, won't you stand up and take a bow. And if you threw a party - Invited everyone you knew - You would see, the biggest gift would be for me - and the card attached would say, Thank you for being a friend.”
Remember . . . Remember the Alamo! Remember the Maine! In this article the word “remember” is used as in to remember an event, person or situation. Are there readers who remember when the trees on Hwy 7 between Beria and Kennard were so thick and close to the road that you would drive through a tunnel because the limbs from either side would touch in the middle? Does anyone remember when the county jail in Houston County was on top of the courthouse? How about Westerman’s Store in Kennard? Do you remember Poll Tax? Do you remember hunting deer with dogs?
Some will remember when Channel 9 out of Lufkin was our only choice of TV viewing on the East side of Houston County. Some will remember Saturday mornings with Mighty Mouse, Fury, Sky King and Rin Tin Tin. I remember when at certain times during the day, I could hear bells playing hymns coming from a church in Kennard.
I dreamed of having a Schwinn Cruiser with the battery operated headlights and horn. Remember curb feelers, the big fluffy dice hanging from the rear view mirror, naugahyde, roll and pleat, and the wrist breaker that we would attach to the steering wheel. Mine had a yellow rose in it. Did you eat your Wheaties or did you really enjoy a bowl of Malt-O-Meal? Did you ever wear a boat neck shirt or think of yourself as a Beatnik? Do you remember being at Woodstock or know anyone that thinks they were? I loved my penny loafers and enjoyed peanuts in my Coke. Do you remember the term “span” in the game of marbles or play Jacks with the girls. “Red rover, red rover let Ronny come over” or “ashes, ashes we all fall down” were words we used in the games we played at recess. Do you remember picking up the phone and hearing two people have a conversation or hearing the phone ring and it rang two shorts, a long and a short?
Then we have memorials that help us remember events of which we were not a part. We have memorials in Washington D.C. and on courthouse squares. Even the historical markers on the side of our highways are important memorials. I am aware of a little known memorial in Houston which commemorates an important event of the time. The memorial is a small plaque on the ground next to the sidewalk on Beechnut in the Meyerland Plaza area. Gary Herod was a Texas Air National Guard pilot. When the plane failed, Herod could have ejected safely but chose to stay with the plane to avoid populated areas in then-rural sections of southwest Houston. Now there is a Gary L. Herod Elementary School in nearby Maplewood.
I guess that I am still thinking of entering the New Year and wondering what it will reveal. Parents, tell the family stories to your children so they can pass them down. Read a few history books. And by the way, the USS Maine was a battleship moored in the Havana Harbor on February 15, 1898. During the night there was an explosion and the Maine sank. Two hundred and sixty six sailors went to the bottom with her. That event opened the way for the Spanish American War.
Guy and Pipp Gillette first introduced me to Frank Robinson. Right off I was so impressed with the man and his music. I felt that I was privileged to know someone only known by a few. I was learning about a man in the present that was so connected to the past. At the same time I was experiencing a void. You see I knew little about the Blues or the people that played it. Most of my knowledge is in Appalachian fiddle tunes also known as Old Time. The music world has many venues and with each, the names, places and styles change drastically.
Every New Year’s Eve Margaret and I host the entertainment, jam sessions and open mic at the Camp Street Café. I had the idea to invite Frank Robinson. I found where he lived and went by his house. He met me at the door. Even after explaining to him who I was and what I wanted he was still a bit hesitant to say yes. In the end I left it up to him if he wanted to come or not. Sure enough on New Year’s Eve I saw him coming through the door with his guitar. That evening I introduced him the best I could and asked him to do whatever he wanted for thirty or forty minutes. The café lights were lowered and Frank started. Frank was very comfortable with his guitar and as his fingers brushed across the strings it was apparent we were hearing the Blues. The words were there, a story was told. The subject of the song may be centered on a woman named Pearly Mae or something like that. It seemed everyone in the audience just sit there in awe as Frank sang his songs back to back.
Frank came to the Camp Street Café on several New Year’s events after that first year. Folks would ask me if that Blues man was coming back. Frank was always quiet at our events unless you asked him questions and then he would start talking. I am sorry that I didn’t document some of the information. I do know that he did some recording in Holland.
Actually I am not qualified to write about Frank Robinson or anything about the Blues but I do know that I have been privileged to hear Frank and allow him to open the window to our musical heritage – a part of Americana.
This is a day to make rhythm and rhyme
So the obvious would be for the word valentine.
A word that conjures up love and more
An ancient thought of tradition and lore.
Most commonly it is between a girl and a boy
This includes planning and scheming along with great ploy.
But love - it’s between the young and old
Whose names may be known and stories have been told.
There was the story of Bonnie and Clyde
They had love for each other but from the law they would ride.
In the days of Octavian was the love of Antony and Cleopatra
It was the bite of the asp that sent her to the hereafter.
The words of Shakespeare brought Romeo and Juliet alive
But it was the poison and knife, they would not survive.
Frankie and Johnny were lovers, no one would ever deny
But Frankie shot Johnny for making love to Nellie Bly.
Samson slew the enemy with the jawbone of an ass
And Delila found the secret to Sampson’s strength alas.
And don’t forget Rhett and Scarlett, she was no lamb
Yet in the end Rhett said, "Frankly my dear, I don't give a damn."
For all you lovers – have a great Valentine’s Day.
Recently I was told of a lady in Galveston who found a toy horse in a dumpster. The horse was just a small part of the mountains of debris created by Hurricane Ike. The horse was about two and a half feet tall and had mechanical features that allowed the horse to move its head and mouth. Fake horse hair covered the toy animal. When removed from the dumpster the hair was soiled and matted and the battery operated mechanics were basically destroyed. The lady who rescued the toy had it professionally cleaned and its fuzzy coat restored and then named the horse Lucky. The story continues, but to keep it short enough for this article, Lucky was given to a man who had a daughter who had expressed interest in the toy horse. Then one day the lady who had first rescued Lucky once again found the toy horse in a dumpster. As before, Lucky was saved, restored and soon the little horse entered the life of yet another little girl. A man from up north was in Galveston for work and Lucky was sent to his daughter back home. I am happy to report that Lucky is now cared for, brushed daily and sometime has to wear clothes a little out of character for the pony but tasteful and fun for a 10 year old girl.
From time to time we may encounter a man or woman in the “dumpster.” Possibly a storm like Katrina has placed the person there. Many different circumstances may cause a person to wake up in a dumpster. Some could be from their own doing. Drugs and alcohol seem to play a major part in person’s life being thrown away. A life time having spent as a law enforcement officer, I have come in contact with many situations involving those problems as well as many others. But whatever the reason we have a duty to help that person out of the dumpster.
Deu 15:7 If there be among you a poor man of one of thy brethren within any of thy gates in thy land which the LORD thy God giveth thee, thou shalt not harden thine heart, nor shut thine hand from thy poor brother:
Lucky was a victim of a storm and then at the mercy of his owner. Lucky had no say so in his trip to the dumpster. As with some men, Lucky ended up in the dumpster twice yet ultimately saved.
CURRY'S STORE IN KENNARD, TEXAS
Living in small town USA sometimes brings challenges. Places to obtain goods and services are usually a number of miles away. But if you are fortunate there will be a general store in town. In our case there is such a store. In regard to food, we normally only purchase emergency food items there, however, there is one exception. On certain days our favorite ice cream goes on sale.
The store also sells hardware, tools, car parts, tires and a line of equipment for home, garden and ranch needs. Sometimes I will go to the store and say to the owner, “I need a thing about this long with a bend right here that fits on this thing.” Now my weakness and desire is the line of equipment of a certain color. There are chain saws, blowers and limb saws. There are all kinds of mowers and tillers.
They can help you with plumbing needs, nails, roach poison, dog food. And when I go back to have the mower fixed I see the owner – not some kid that I have never seen before and only knows how to help me with paperwork that goes with the repair.
So in regard to some things, we have the big city beat. The local store is a good place to go because you see friends and catch up on news. The UPS man comes in the store to ask directions to someone’s house. And if you are a bit hungry you can asked the lady behind the register for a slice of cheese to go with your crackers and soft drink. To quote the late Bob Murphy of Nacogdoches, “For the guys that don’t have anything to do, that is where they go to do it.”
Sometimes we go to our general store when we have injuries. One day I cut my head and didn’t have anyone to take a look at it – so I went to our general store. You just don’t get treatment like that at the big stores in the city. Thanks Mike and Judy.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ogpKqOg7Jns
I woke up this morning and realized that it was March 2nd which is an important date in Texas history. It is Texas Independence Day. Texas is a most interesting and colorful state. Even the unique shape of the state makes it stand out and recognizable. The people who paved the way for Texas to become a republic were larger than life. Even the badge of the Texas Ranger is distinguished and distinctive.
Mexico claimed the land known as Texas
but was not doing anything with it. Though Texas was Spanish territory at the
time of the purchase, Thomas Jefferson and his government deemed the Red River
watershed, which drained directly into the Mississippi, to be part of the
natural boundaries of the Louisiana Purchase. The people who lived on the land
wanted to make it their home and had a vision to make Texas great. Because
of that, the land drew people from all over. One theory purports that the
American settlers wanted to attach their land claims to an American territory
rather than a Spanish one
to gain more American-held land. “GTT” was written on doors and various places
to represent their statement concerning the future for their lives. “Gone To
Texas” became a statement known throughout the United States. The lure of Texas
got the attention of men like Houston, Crockett, Fannin, Bowie, Austin and
Travis. Many others were involved in the transition as Texas became a
republic. Tradition tells us of Emily Morgan, “the sweetest rose of color.”
She became the Yellow Rose of Texas. In the very beginning, when Moses Austin
first crossed into Texas, his companion was a Negro slave. His name was
Richmond. Lorenzo de Zavala was born in Yucatan. At the very moment Santa Anna
was at the Alamo, Zavala was helping the Texans prepare for their independence.
Delegates at Washington-on-the-Brazos elected him vice-president of Texas.
On April 19, 1836 the Texans crossed Buffalo Bayou to maintain possession of the road to the Lynchburg ferry. Then history was truly made on April 21 at 3:00pm. In the next twenty minutes a makeshift, ill armed, undisciplined bunch of farmers met a larger, well-led military force and completely overwhelmed it. Fleeing Mexican became mired in a nearby marsh and the pursuing Texans leaped in to finish them off. The soldiers in Santa Anna’s army were pleading, “Me no Alamo! Me no Goliad!”
Sometimes as I travel around the state I run across people that know nothing about our history. They may know a few names like Davy Crockett and Sam Houston but have no idea about happened at Goliad, San Felipe or Gonzales. But those are all part of how the great State of Texas came into existence. What a history! Even our flag stands out – oh speaking of flags, just remember – blood flows down. That means the white is on the top and the red at the bottom. Also look at the 5 point star and think of a man. Too many times I have seen the red flowing upward and the little man standing on his head. If you are going to fly the Texas flag, please be sure to fly it correctly and proudly.
Southern Hospitality; yes, it is real and yes, it still exists. Does it come naturally? It may for some. I would say that mine was passed down to me from my ancestors. I am 3rd generation Texan and from there my roots even go back to several southern states. They came to America in the early 1700s. Through passing of time and space I believe family attributes are acquired. My folks were faith based people with strong senses of honor, staunchly protecting their name and reputation. There were strict dress codes that required ladies to wear gloves on visits to town. Men wore hats, but never inside.
House guests were always offered something to drink and/or eat. Meals were a special occasion and table manners were observed. Margaret and I visited with friends in upper state South Carolina. For breakfast our friend made some biscuits and I commented on how delicious they were. In a smooth voice that is common to that area she responded, “Yes, aren’t they good?” Now the “good” took a long time to say. It was “G U O O O D.” A beautiful accent.
More than once people have said to Margaret or me, “I have always heard of Southern Hospitality and now I know what it is.” This Southern way has been passed down through the genes of our ancestors and also strongly by example. Now I am aware that times change and traditions are modified. Even though we may not always adhere to our traditions, I still believe that ladies go first, then men and finally the children. No one should begin eating until the hostess starts hers.
It seems our world today is trying to destroy our family values. I believe as goes our family so goes our nation. Southern Hospitality is something to be proud of and an attempt should be made to keep it alive. So, “Come on in and sit down. Can I offer you anything?”
This past weekend I was talking to a young man who was attending LSU in Baton Rouge. I asked him what he was studying. It only took him about four sentences to get so far over my head that I was completely out of the conversation. Then I asked a few basic questions and we worked from there.
He is studying nanotechnology. The students there are working in a world of miniature where everything is measured on the nanoscale. Nanotech is the study of controlling matter on molecular and atomic scale. To put in our terms, a nano is about one billionth of a yard stick. Now think about that. So the students are looking at structures of 100 nanometers or smaller. To put that scale in another context, the comparative size of a nanometer to a meter is the same as that of a marble to the size of the earth.
On December 29, 1959 Richard Feynman described a process by which the ability to manipulate individual atoms and molecules might be developed, using one set of precise tools to build and operate another proportionally smaller set, and so on down to the needed scale.
Future implications of nanotechnology have the potential to create many new materials and devices with a vast range of applications, such as in medicine, electronics and energy production.
So what is the purpose of this article? Just think of the size of our planet compared to the size of the universe. Now think of the size of material measured in nanometers. What if there is another size even smaller than a nanometer? Now consider the “big bang” theory, OK just wondering if you think it all came into existence by accident or maybe there is a “creator” involved? Just something to think about.
Health care seems to be the big issue these days. I have to admit that I know nothing about the subject since the heart of the matter is insurance. I have paid into some type of insurance for as long as I remember. I have auto insurance, insurance for my house and property but it is all a great mystery to me. I have been offered the option to purchase additional policies for cancer, flood, burial and many others that I can’t even remember right now. Don’t get me wrong, I have the insurance because I want it but in another day and time I saw insurance in a different way. I compared it to gambling. I realized that I was betting that I would need to use the insurance and the companies were betting that I wouldn’t. I was betting that my house would flood. I no longer have flood insurance here in Kennard but I did feel I needed it when living in Bellaire only inches above sea level.
In regard to the flood insurance, time would prove that the provider had the winning hand. I paid the premiums and my house never flooded. On the other hand, in 2005 I had the winning hand when I found out I had cancer. Since then I have had a couple of major procedures, two major surgeries, monthly and quarterly tests and a monthly injection. The injections alone cost about $7,000 each and I have had over 50. I truly believe that I am being treated by some of the best doctors at the best facilities in the world. For those monthly premiums the doctors are keeping me alive.
I am also enjoying good health. But guess what? It isn’t as simple as that. The insurance company has to make a profit or why should they continue to do it? Also I am thinking that when I get the $7,000 shot I am spending some of my money from past premiums but also premiums of many other folks. It is all a very complicated business to me.
Now I have family and friends who have no insurance and I am not sure what would happen to them if they received the same news that I did in 2005. I have been hearing that health care is a right, but I’m not so sure about that. Governments can hand out rights just as fast as they cancel them. Our government is no exception. Ever since grade school, I believed that our rights were addressed in the Declaration of Independence. It begins like this. “We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That to secure these rights, governments are instituted among men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” Take the time to read it all. Then there is a document called the Bill of Rights. You may want to read it also.
Just the other day I was paying bills and watching Fox News. The phone rang and it was a telemarketer. While trying to get off of the phone I think I heard the following on TV.
QUESTION: You are a friend of Chicken Little; do you believe the sky is falling?
ANSWER: Well uh, uh, first I want to point out that the men and women serving our country are doing an excellent job of keeping our country safe. Congress spends endless hours making sure that adequate funds are available to supply our military with the equipment needed to keep our borders safe.
Now let me just comment on a related subject right now. I know a lot has been mentioned concerning laws passed in Arizona. I suggest that this should be looked at very closely and the states should work closer with the federal government. Now I am not going to talk anymore about that because committees are meeting right now addressing this issue.
Also along those same lines, a person could attempt to cause an incident but we really don’t know what was in that person’s mind. Terror may or may not have been his intention and of course we really don’t know if the intended victims were actually terrorized or simply shocked that someone would have the state of mind to cause such an event. I really don’t want to comment on any relationship or effect that the tea parties and conservative talk shows may have had on these home-grown shockers. I think we should be very slow at making reckless comments concerning certain matters.
Now to clarify my answer to your question a little better, legal issues concerning public domain can become very convoluted and my stand on the oil spill in the Gulf is quite clear. Any other questions?
DOWNTOWN HOUSTON AND THE RICE HOTEL
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Margaret and I had a music festival to take care of in Palestine this past weekend. Actually we started the festival nine years ago. There was no time to write an article. Then Sunday was a day of rest. Now here it is Monday and we are in Houston. I spent the day doing my regularly scheduled tests at M.D. Anderson. Tomorrow I will see the doctor and find out how I am doing. Since we are spending the night, we found a nice hotel in downtown Houston. This afternoon we went for a walk on Main Street and from that walk I discovered two interesting topics I would like to share. We were walking south on Main and when we got to Main and Texas I suddenly realized where we were. We were standing on the spot where the capitol building of the nation of Texas once stood. It was built by the Allen brothers in 1839. Later the capitol was moved to Waterloo which is now Austin. Eventually a hotel was built on the same spot. It was the Rice Hotel. I reminded Margaret that I stayed in the Rice in 1967. After spending the night, the next morning I was on a train for San Diego, California. That started my career in the United States Navy. Now as my mind wandered back in time, I started to imagine what all had occurred at the corner of Main and Texas, I realized that I was standing in a very important place, a place that was once the center of the government of a new nation. Then I came back to 2010 when I saw a homeless guy walk by and a couple of guys with oxygen and acetylene bottles. They couldn’t care less! The other thing we noticed was when Margaret spotted a saying inscribed on the front of the old State National Bank located at 412 Main. The building appeared to have been built in the same time period as the others in the area – many were built in the 1880’s. This is the saying, “Frugality is the Mother of the Virtues.” Now think about that. Someone was so dedicated to being frugal that they wanted that written on the front of their new building. Shouldn’t that apply today?
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In the book of Deuteronomy it is written: “Yet the Lord hath not given you an heart to perceive, and eyes to see, and ears to hear, unto this day.” The Israelites of the exodus and wilderness wanderings saw the physical, but did not comprehend the spiritual dimension of YHWH’s actions. Margaret and I were recently reminded of this truth in a little different way.
We live in the woods just north of Kennard. As we were driving out of our driveway early one morning we both commented on the spider webs that we noticed on the ground. At first our eyes only saw a few but as we commented on the few we suddenly realized there were hundreds and then thousands. To our amazement we eventually realized that the woods were full of the airy little structures. They were on the ground and low growing bushes. They were approximately 6 to 8 inches in diameter with an arched design in the center.
We have never witnessed this wonderful part of nature before. I would imagine that the spiders and their webs have been there all along but we didn’t have eyes to see. But on this day the conditions were right as moisture formed on the webs and picked up the light from the morning sun.
How often do we pass by a neighbor with a need and miss an opportunity to help. Or it could be our own child crying out for our love and attention. Thank God for those special times and events that open our eyes so we can see clearly.
I hope that I can remember the lesson that I learned from the spiders for a long time to come.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Muehlebach_Brewing_Company
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This is the way I remember it several years ago in the Third Judicial District courtroom in Houston County. The Honorable R.W. Lawrence was presiding judge. I was the bailiff. I don’t remember who was representing the State. Donald J. Gordon was the District Attorney but since this was a change of venue hearing for an inmate at Eastham, the Special Prison Prosecutor’s Unit out of Huntsville may have been representing the State. Representing the Defendant was my friend, Attorney Eugene M. McElyea. The Defendant was claiming that he could not receive a fair trial here in Houston County. I testified for the State and my position was that he could in fact receive a fair trial. I have witnessed many civil and criminal trials and I know that for the most part jurors take their job very seriously. Mr. McElyea testified for the Defense stating that the inmate could in no way receive a fair trial in Houston County. Mr. McElyea had completed his testimony and was about to step down when Judge Lawrence stopped him. McElyea remained in the witness chair. The judge was to his right with the twelve jurors to his left. Also in the courtroom were various witnesses, inmates, attorneys, Eastham guards, law enforcement officers and other parties awaiting their cases to be heard. In a slow deliberate move Judge Lawrence looked to his left and down at the witness chair where Mr. McElyea was seated. In his uniquely calm and distinguished voice Judge Lawrence began the questioning. “Mr. McElyea I believe that you testified earlier before this court that your name is Eugene M. McElyea. Is that correct?” “That is correct,” McElyea replied. “Well, Mr. McElyea,” the judge continued, “this court would like to know what the M. stands for.” At this moment Mr. McElyea seized the moment. Everything was in place. There were many people in the courtroom and he had the chair. Being a story teller the conditions were perfect for him to take center stage with full permission from the court to go forward with a good yarn. “Well Judge,” he began, “my mother’s family name was Muehlebach and they were from St. Louis.” Judge Lawrence did not interrupt as he was going to see this hand played to the end. “The Muehlebachs had a brewery there in St. Louis.” Mr. McElyea took a little time to explain the better points of taste and quality of the beer. “But then one day, Your Honor, the family decided to have the beer tested,” McElyea explained. He continued, “After a reasonable period of time the results came back and the report concluded that the horse had sugar diabetes.” Judge Lawrence then excused Mr. McElyea from the witness stand and the inmate’s trial continued in Third Judicial District Court in Houston County. |
I recently learned that George Washington really didn’t want to be President of the United Stated. He did eventually accept the position out of duty. As General Douglas MacArthur gave his farewell speech to the West Point Military Academy his reoccurring line was “Duty, Honor and Country.” When a fire fighter enters a burning building, whether paid or volunteer, it is because of the sense of duty. When an employee strives to arrive at work on time it is probably because of duty.
Recently a run-off election was held for the position of Justice of the Peace in Houston County. I was reminded of a time several years ago when I ran for that office. I learned a lot about the political system during the campaign. There were some aspects of that process that I enjoyed and some I didn’t. I was the first candidate to submit my name for the race and I truly did it out of duty. Yes, I wanted the job but I also thought that I would be able to serve Houston County. Duty – when Jonah ran from God, he was running from his duty. When the signers of the Declaration of Independence met, it was out of duty. Many have suffered greatly because of fulfilling their duty. And yet, because of their duty a great nation was born. They were honoring their duty to God and to the freedom seeking people of North America.
I think that many of us are somewhat disappointed in a few of our State and National leaders. I am wondering if some of them understand duty. We should be hearing about what they are doing for our country and not hearing about their social lives.
I am probably repeating an old adage by saying that for many of you I am probably “preaching to the choir.” I believe that most of us in this country understand the word duty. And thanks to all of you who serve. And by the way, I lost that race for JP but a fine man became the Justice of the Peace and served our county well.
From week to week and day to day we are bombarded with negative information. It may come from national or local news or just from the office. Actually everything is not negative but I’m not telling you anything that you don’t already know. The Wright family has just returned from one of those places where we feel safe and everyone is having a good time.
Since 1995 we have attended a music festival in Glen Rose, Texas; you may recognize Glen Rose as the place where you can find the dinosaur footprints in the Paluxy River. The first year we attended the festival Hollis was 16 and Lloyd was 13. The festival is held in a campground so everyone is either in a motor home, travel trailer or tent. Then of course a few stay in nearby motels.
The event is very family oriented so children can move around the campground and everyone is a grandparent. Most campers are in lawn chairs around their camp sites. Just walking down the streets between the rows of RVs and tents can take a very long time since there are so many friends to stop and visit with along the way. If you have an instrument in your hand a jam session may just break out at any place or any time.
Let’s not forget the food. You will see burgers being cooked over a charcoal fire or a cobbler baking in a Dutch oven. Then you really hit the jackpot when you come upon folks having an ice cream party.
Workshops are held during the day on various musical instruments and a class is given on Sacred Harp singing as well. Everyone is welcome to sit in on a concert by a favorite musician since the stage starts at 9:00am and runs all day. A good lawn chair is an essential part of equipment for every person at the festival.
So the festival is like living in a town where you know everyone and all have a common interest. There is fellowship, entertainment, food and maybe even time for a short nap. There is no crime but if you don’t watch out someone may open your cooler if it was outside on the ground like ours. We opened it only to find a quart of milk and some of our favorite ice cream that someone placed there.
We don’t have time to watch TV so for a couple of days we don’t know anything about Washington D.C., Arizona, the Gulf, Iran, Iraq or Greece. It’s always hard to leave.
SEPARATION OF CHURCH AND STATE
I started thinking about “separation of church and state” so I decided to look into it. I found out a couple of years ago that the phrase started with a letter from the Danbury Baptists to Thomas Jefferson. In my reading in the last couple of days I found out so much more. One thing that I have noticed is that because of widespread coupling of “separation of church and state” with the First Amendment, many Americans now believe that the phrase is part of the First Amendment. Read the First Amendment for yourself. Samuel Adams warned: “I mean . . . . to let you know how deeply I am impressed with a sense of the importance of Amendments, that the good people may clearly see the distinction – for there is a distinction – between the federal powers vested in Congress and the sovereign authority belonging to the several states, which the Palladium [protector] of the private and personal rights of the citizens.” (Yes, I had to look up Palladium. It was a statue of Pallas whose preservation was believed to ensure the safety of Troy.)
My search then led me to Everson v. Board of Education, a 1947 landmark decision of the U.S. Supreme Court which applied the religion clauses in the country’s Bill of Rights to state as well as federal law. Many believe the 1947 case was a complete legal cancellation of that Amendment.
So finally I am getting to the Danbury Baptists correspondence with to Jefferson. The letter was dated October 7, 1801. The following is a portion of that letter: “Our sentiments are uniformly on the side of religious liberty: that Religion is at all times and places a matter between God and individuals, that no man ought to suffer in name, person, or effects on account of his religious opinions, [and] that the legitimate power of civil government extends no further than to punish the man who works ill to his neighbor. But sir, our constitution of government is not specific. Our ancient charter, together with the laws made coincident therewith, were adapted as the basis of our government at the time of our revolution. And such has been our laws and usages, and such still are, [so] that Religion is considered as the first object of Legislation, and therefore what religious privileges we enjoy (as a minor part of the State) we enjoy as favors granted, and not as inalienable rights. And these favors we receive at the expense of such degrading acknowledgments, as are inconsistent with the rights of freemen. It is not to be wondered at therefore, if those who seek after power and gain, under the pretense of government and Religion, should reproach their fellow men, [or] should reproach their Chief Magistrate, as an enemy of religion, law, and good order, because he will not, dares not, assume the prerogative of Jehovah and make laws to govern the Kingdom of Christ.” Jefferson in part replied: “Believing with you that religion is a matter which lies solely between man and his God, that he owes account to none other for his faith or his worship, that the legislative powers of government reach actions only, and not opinions, I contemplate with sovereign reverence that act of the whole American people which declared that their legislature would "make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof," thus building a wall of separation between Church and State. Adhering to this expression of the supreme will of the nation in behalf of the rights of conscience, I shall see with sincere satisfaction the progress of those sentiments which tend to restore to man all his natural rights, convinced he has no natural right in opposition to his social duties.” Natural rights? Well that led me down another pig trail.
The Stoics held that no one was a slave by their nature; slavery was an external condition juxtaposed to the internal freedom of the soul. Seneca the Younger wrote: “It is a mistake to imagine that slavery pervades a man's whole being; the better part of him is exempt from it: the body indeed is subjected and in the power of a master, but the mind is independent, and indeed is so free and wild, that it cannot be restrained even by this prison of the body, wherein it is confined.” But what did ol’ Seneca the Younger know. He was later caught up in a plot to kill Nero. He was condemned to death so he sat in a warm tub of water and cut his wrist.
So now do I know any more about “separation of church and state” or am I still just as confused? I guess the bottom line is, why can’t we all just resolve our issues right here in Houston County without Washington D.C. getting involved? I hope this encourages you to do some research on your own. If you discover anything, please email me.
I realize that last week’s article on separation of church and state was a bit convoluted. I guess that is my nature to dig a little deeper and see the unseen. Then there is another side to me. I am a story teller and my stories are factual rather than fiction. Well at least they are, for the most part, factual. Also my phlegmatic temperament allows me to find humor in many situations. So last night at our Sacred Harp Singing in Kennard someone suggested that I just tell you one of my stories this week.
This story happened several years ago when one weekend we were expecting to have many dulcimer players visit at our house in Kennard over the weekend. At about 10:30 that morning Margaret informed me that our refrigerator had gone out. I grabbed the phone book and looked up Knox Furniture in Crockett. After a couple of rings the phone was answered by a very nice person and I asked to speak to someone about a refrigerator. After a few moments I was greeted by, “Can I help you?” I told me man who I was and then began to explain my dilemma. I first asked if I could charge the refrigerator. Since I had purchased several items over the years and my credit was good I was told charging the item would not be a problem. Then I asked the big question, “Do you deliver?” There was a pause on the other end of the phone line. The man then revealed to me, “Well, Mr. Wright we close at noon.” (Maybe I should have told you that it was on a Saturday.) I replied, “It is now 11:00am, can’t you get out and back in an hour?” “But don’t you need to drive into Crockett and take a look at our many selections?” the man asked. My reply was, “Ain’t you got a white one?” Our guests were only interrupted by the delivery of the new “white” refrigerator and the hauling off of the old one. We had a great weekend.
I was waiting in my office when suddenly the door opened and Margaret invited her in. I was waiting for someone to meet me at my office for an interview. The room was instantly filled with smiles and color. You see, when you are in the presence of Sherron Benton things are going to be joyous with all smiles. In regard to color, today was no exception. Her hair was fixed and she wore a brightly colored blouse that would compete with the view through a kaleidoscope. Sherron’s nails were done just right and then there were the large colorful ear rings. You could say, “Ms. Benton is a colorful person in Kennard.”
She started off by saying, “God had been a Bridge Over Troubled Water” to her. Number 3 is her favorite number. In one sense it stands for her three boys and on the other hand it stands for the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Then again, it could stand for “live, love and laugh.” I think you are starting to understand the person named Sherron Benton. Now she has lived in Kennard all of her life and yet she has travelled through 35 states. Her ex-husband was a truck driver and they logged many miles on the road. Speaking of directions, Ms. Benton says, “I AM G.P.S.” Although she is well travelled she says, “There is no place like home.”
“Here comes Bling, Bling.” That is what the ladies in the salon say when Sherron walks in. Thursday is her day to drive to Lufkin and get the “works.” You see Sherron is very serious about having her nails and hair done. In fact, this being 4:00pm on Thursday, she was getting a little restless to get over there – couldn’t miss a thing like that. But, she did tell me how happy and honored she felt to do this interview.
Believe you me, Ms. Benton has an opinion on many things and she has advice to offer, especially when it comes to the “younger generation” as she says. The advice is, “Education you must have. Don’t settle for a 70 average when there is a 90 degree temperature beating you in the head.” “My motto is if you don’t stand for the right thing, you will fall short to anything.” A quote from Sherron Benton.
Continuing the interview, Sherron told me that her mother drove a Kennard school bus for 25 years. Her mother also once worked for Mrs. Vickers in Kennard. Just today Margaret and I closed the deal on the Vickers house.
Ms. Benton says she was married for 28 years but is now a single mother. She told me about her three sons. I could tell she was very proud. Archie Jr. and Jamieson are both in the military; both did tours in Iraq and Korea and one in Afghanistan. The third son is a student at Kennard School and as a proud mother would, she mentioned that he was on the 10th grade Honor Roll.
She says that life is about choices. Her advice is to make the best of those choices. She told me that she had been on both sides of the track but then she decided to live for God. Now her blessings have “blossomed.” She smiles enormously when she talks about her grand children, family and friends. She continues by giving God the glory for her church and her New Hope Missionary Baptist Church family who are always by her side.
Our hearts were blessed as Margaret and I listened to Sherron Benton’s joyous, engaging and uplifting story. And finally a quote from Sherron, “I am so Happy Being Me!”
We were heading to North Carolina and while travelling along I-59 we spotted a sign that said "Simmons-Wright General Store." The words were printed on a brow
n sign. We knew that a brown sign usually designates something historic or something of importance. We took the exit and headed for a little Mississippi town named Kewanee.After a short drive down a narrow road we spotted the store on the left
. You couldn't miss it; it had "old" written all over it. So we pulled into a small dirt parking lot next to the large, red brick building. There were old faded signs on the outside and in the front were items for sale, most of which seemed to be from my father and grandfather's time.The screen door entrance took
me back to my youth when I used to stay with my grandfather who owned and operated a small general store near San Augustine. I knew that. I was about to enter another world, a 'world of the past. Just opening that screen door was a treat. It came with the same squeaky sound that I remember from those long ago places in my mind.My eyes tried to take in
everything at once as I stepped inside. Of course I first noticed that
distinctive smell of an old building with
its
fragrance old wood and aged inventory. There were several old glass display
cases.
I could see the candy counter and a set of
scales next to the hooped cheese. You may know the kind, bright yellow with a
red wax covering. There was stuff everywhere.
I looked around and didn't see another
soul in the store.
I walked to the right and then spotted a man sitting in a rocking chair reading a newspaper. He sat next to a large wood stove. "Are you the proprietor?" I asked. "I am," was, his reply. I introduced myself as Jerry Wright. That immediately drew his attention and he adjusted his glasses and put the paper down. We then begin comparing notes to see if we could come up with any common relatives.
Then Margaret and I started walking around the store where there were so many things to look at. We found a box of Bon Ami, a bottle of Schafer's ink, old milk bottles and classic 78 records. There was also an old anvil, .cast iron wash pot and tools of every type, and this list barely scratches the surface.
After a while the subject of music came up and we eventually brought in our instruments and played a few tunes. More
family members showed up and other customers dropped in. The owner's daughter then asked if we would like to stay for lunch. You know you are in the Beep South when lunch consists of fresh tomato sandwiches.They wanted us to stay longer but we had to get
. on the road and continue our trip to North Carolina. We knew that we needed to leave but we really wanted to stay because we had almost instantly connected with these folks. Just before we left we discovered that the owner and I were both storytellers. He told two and I told two. We had to force ourselves to leave. Otherwise we would have beenThis United States is a wonderful country and the home of many great people. During our recent travels we met upstanding, fine and interesting people time and time again. Our trip was basically music oriented, but along with that we saw some beautiful country. You see, Margaret and I travel to western North Carolina every year in search of music. To be exact, we are looking for the old mountain fiddle tunes. Finding those tunes is like searching for the end of the Internet.
During our travels a doctor from Columbia, South Carolina offered us his cabin in the mountains for a week. It was in the town of Dillsboro, North Carolina about 12 miles from the Blue Ridge Parkway. On another occasion while passing through Mississippi we stopped at the Simmons – Wright General Store. While we were having a little jam session there, a perfect stranger approached us and gave us her phone number and said she wished we would call and visit with her on our way back to Texas. So we did and became instant friends with a very lovely lady. She had also invited other friends over and we had a wonderful time playing music and telling stories.
While in Sylva, North Carolina, we met a man who when he was born was delivered by Ruth Bell Graham’s father. That doctor happened to be Billy Graham’s father-in-law. We later found ourselves playing in an antique store in Sylva and Marion, the owner, took us out to lunch. There are two restaurants in Sylva that are decorated with Marion’s antiques. We also met a friend and classmate of Andy Griffith there in Marion’s shop. (Look for this story in a later Wright Writes)
I came back to Texas with a prized old anvil purchased from Marion. I don’t call myself a blacksmith but I do beat on a little hot steel from time to time.
We attended the Wayne C. Henderson Guitar Festival at Grayson Highlands State Park in southern Virginia. Wayne is a good friend of ours and comes to the Palestine Old Time Music and Dulcimer Festival held in Palestine each March. Many of the great guitar pickers in the country are at the festival. We also got to spend some time with the man who made Margaret’s guitar.
I could go on, but the point here is this: This is a great country with its beautiful sights, smells and sounds. Standing at 6,000 feet in the Smoky Mountains is breathtaking. There are wonderful, generous and interesting folks all over country. America needs all of us to work to keep it together. Our founding fathers were inspired by the Creator and they knew what they were doing. The evil one is always in the midst and it is up to us and our children and grandchildren to keep this country that we so dearly love. Think about these things on the 4th of July.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sylva,_North_Carolina
RETIRED HOUSTON POLICE OFFICER'S REUNION IN CROCKETT 2010
Margaret and I attended a reunion of Retired Houston Police Officers a couple of Saturdays ago. It was held at the Civic Center in Crockett. For the most part, our heads were either bald or white. There were a lot of hearing aids. But we were all with one thing in common: we had once patrolled the streets of Houston, Texas. Many of us moved on to various other departments and assignments as years passed but I am fairly certain that most, if not all, did some time in patrol.
I joined the department in 1972 and there were many men at the reunion that were with the department in the ‘50s. Some of the men were legends to me and it was interesting to see them in the setting of the cool lights of the Civic Center. If only half of the stories that I heard when I was a rookie were true, it would be the makings of a great TV show for AMC. I have heard the stories of various riots in the City. In one of the riots Carl Hampton was shot and killed by our officers. Another man was wounded in the incident and many of you, although you never met him, would know his name if I printed it here.
I heard stories of catching hijackers and burglars and I heard stories of interesting investigations. The streets of Houston have as many stories as there are people. These men and the few veteran women who were present worked before the age of hand held radios, computers in the cars or even at the station. I myself received one of six of the first in car computers in 1982.
Chief Hermann Short pinned on my badge the evening of my graduation ceremony. I remember it well. Our class graduation was held in the old Music Hall in downtown Houston. We weren’t allowed to have bullets in our revolvers until after our badge was pinned on. As soon as the graduation was over, I drove directly to Substation #5 off of Hempstead Hwy and went to work. After I spent a month there, I spent a little time at the Northeast Substation and the Beechnut Substation. Next I went to Central and it was there that I found a home. I spent the next ten years working the 11:00pm to 7:00am shift. My area covered the Fourth Ward, Montrose area, River Oaks and what later became known as Greenway Plaza. That stretch of the Southwest Freeway was ours and in the southwest corner we shared boundaries with the City of West University Place.
I, like so many other officer experienced tragic events during my years of service. My partner and I were the first officers on the scene when Officer Noel was killed while working an extra job at a joint at 316 N. Nagle. Noel was from Huntington just south of Lufkin, and graduated from Zavalla High School. I stood by an officer at the morgue who was killed at Art Wren’s Silver Dollar in about the 600 block of Montrose. Officer Spruill, a Vietnam veteran, was gunned down by three men as they carried on a conversation. A reckless driver ran over my friend, Officer F.E. Wright, as he directed traffic on the Southwest Freeway in August 1975. When Officer Harris was killed in 1982 another officer was shot. A sergeant contacted me by radio to meet him and go with him to the home of Officer Larry Trepagnier. We were to pick up his wife and take her to Ben Taub Hospital. Officer Trepagnier was seriously wounded but survived.
I was on the scene in 1972 after Dr. John Hill was murdered in his driveway in River Oaks. This incident and surrounding story were later described in Thomas Thompson’s novel, Blood and Money.
I was privileged to work in the Homicide Division my last ten years on the Department. There were many sad events, funny tales and rewarding times. These are just a few of my stories. Just imagine if you knew all of the stories of all of the officers who were in the Civic Center in Crockett a couple of Saturdays ago. And you must remember these are not just stories but things that actually happened. They were all wonderful people serving in extraordinary circumstances.
http://www.police-writers.com/nelson_zoch.html
Margaret and I recently purchased the Vickers’ house located at 209 Main in Kennard, Texas. We both instantly had the compelling urge to sit on the front porch of the old house. We knew Mabel and Jack Vickers back in the eighties. Mr. Jack was a veteran of WWI.
As we sat there on the porch for the first time I tried to imagine what it was like in the earlier days. I think maybe the street was not even paved and much narrower. I think that Mr. and Mrs. Vickers could sit out there in the summer and feel the ever so slight cool breeze coming from below the huge oaks and pecans. The conversation was probably concerning the latest news about someone’s new job or some activity at the church. I am sure a familiar face would drive or even walk by from time to time redirecting the subject at hand to something concerning the passerby or his/her family. This particular day could have been Sunday and the Vickers sat there on the porch after a morning in church and after a fine meal. Of course the dishes would have already been washed and put away.
I think they may have been able to hear children playing and running wildly around a neighbor’s house a street over. Then a car would pass and they both would turn to see who it could have been. Didn’t recognize the car, it must have been someone just passing through.
A familiar line reads, “One time Atticus said you never really knew a man until you stood in his shoes and walked around in them; just standin' on the Radley porch was enough. The summer that had begun so long ago had ended, and another summer had taken its place, and a fall, and Boo Radley had come out.”
Yes, summers have come and gone and sitting on the front porch of 209 Main makes us think of Mr. Jack and Mrs. Mabel Vickers.
If you have information concerning Mr. and Mrs. Vickers or the house at 209 Main, we would appreciate hearing from you. Call (936) 655-2945 or email pickinwright@yahoo.com Come by and sit a spell with us sometimes.
After reading the last edition of Wright Writes concerning the porch on the Vickers House, I received an email from a friend. He reminded me that things have a different perspective looking from the front porch than from a car looking at the house as they quickly pass by. In fact, I don’t believe that many even realize they are passing through a small town since they are travelling so fast.
My friend told me that he has attended many estate sales through the years and has observed emotionless people selling all the things that took someone a lifetime to collect. Many of the items for sale once had great value attached to them by the previous owner. Precious stories from special places in the heart are now being sold for pennies.
My friend pointed out to me that as we drive through the country we see so many old abandoned houses and businesses which have long since been discarded.
In some long ago time that place was a part of someone’s fondest hopes and dreams. Silence has replaced the happy excitement of the past.
Just today Margaret and I purchased a dining room set from an estate sale. I hope the previous owners would be pleased to know that the table where they sat for so many years with family and friends is going to the Vickers House at 209 Main. The usefulness of that table will live on as many of our dear friends will have meals and wonderful fellowship around it.
A few days ago we were coming back from a four day mountain dulcimer workshop when we made a rest stop. The place where we stopped sold ice cream. So what should we do? Yes, we got in line for the taste treat. There was a young girl in front of Margaret, maybe the age of an eleventh grader. The young girl asked, “Do you think they charge more for a cup?” Margaret assured her that the cup would not cost more than the cone. Then it was time for the girl to order. Out of her hands she placed the quarters, nickels, dimes and pennies on the counter. She asked the lady behind the counter if it was enough. The lady behind the counter stated that it was. Margaret quickly did the math and it didn’t seem to add up.
The young girl got her cup of ice cream and walked away. Margaret addressed the lady behind the counter and acknowledged that she knew the money did not add up. Margaret offered to pay the difference. The lady behind the counter replied, “Thanks but that is alright. All of the other girls on the team got ice cream and I didn’t want her to not have any.”
The ice cream was sweet but the act of kindness was sweeter.
Is it more than just a piece of cloth? In regard to a flag, just how deep do the symbolic roots go? On January 1, 1776, the Continental Army was under the leadership of George Washington. On that New Year's Day the Continental Army was laying siege to Boston. The city had been taken over by the British Army. Washington ordered a flag hoisted above his base at Prospect Hill. It had 13 alternate red and white stripes and the British Union Jack in the upper left-hand corner.
On April 4, 1818 President Monroe signed an Act which provided for 13 stripes and one star for each state, to be added to the flag on the 4th of July following the admission of each new state.
Joe Rosenthal took a historic photograph on February 23, 1945 of five Marines and a Navy Corpsman raising a U.S. Flag over the Pacific Island of Iwo Jima. It is recorded that Secretary of the Navy, James Forrestal wanted to go ashore and witness the final stage of the fight for Mount Suribachi. A boat carried Secretary Forrestal and General Howlin’ Mad Smith to the shore of the island just after the flag went up. Everyone was looking up. Secretary Forrestal turned to the General and addressed him by his first name. “Holland, the raising of that flag on Suribachi means a Marine Corps for the next five hundred years."
The USS Arizona is no longer in commission yet as a special tribute to the ship and her lost crew, the United States flag flies from the flagpole, which is attached to the severed mainmast of the sunken battleship.
The U.S. flag is a symbol of our country. It invokes pride and emotion. It calls us to duty, not duty to the flag but duty to our country.
I read about a lady, a hospital supervisor, who displayed a three-by-five foot American flag in the office she shares with other supervisors. She did this just before the Memorial Day weekend. When she came to work on Friday she was told she would have to take it down. She learned that one of the other supervisors found it offensive. The person who was complaining had been in the United States for 14 years, having come here from another country.
The United States flag is our flag. Let’s always cherish it, fly it proudly, give it honor and defend it. Yes, it is just a symbolic piece of cloth yet it so impressed Secretary Forrestal and General Howlin’ Mad Smith on that momentous day in 1945.
“Gather ‘round people where ever you roam and admit that the waters around you have grown. And accept it that soon you’ll be drenched to the bone if your time to you is worth savin’. Then you better start swimmin’ or you’ll sink like a stone for the times they are a changing.” Those are the words of Bob Dylan in 1964. I listened to those words over and over when I was a teenager. We were a generation who sought after change and felt we held the key to make the world a better place. But at the same time the Vietnam war was going on. Even though I was a part of the 60s generation and felt a part of the philosophies, I was an East Texan with parents and friends. I was also a Christian with strong faith and beliefs. No, I never dreamed of going to Kathmandu. “If you're going to San Francisco, be sure to wear some flowers in your hair... If you're going to San Francisco, You're gonna meet some gentle people there.” Yes, I have a picture of me with a flower in my hair while I was in San Francisco in 1967. Flower Power was coined by Allen Ginsberg who had connections to the communist party so the whole thing was not a good thing. I just liked the flowers, pretty girls, long hair, bell bottom pants and the happy attitude. I did not participate in or accept the ideas of the hippie movement. I didn’t do the drugs, participate in demonstrations or ever wanted to live in a communal community. The hippies embraced this idea of flower power and started painting flowers on everything. During the Vietnam War protest, the hippies passed out flowers to the policemen, press and by-standers. I remember the girl placing a flower in the barrel of a National Guard soldier’s rifle. Larry Schweikart and Michael Allen call it “The Age of Upheaval.” It was an age of generational strife; the baby boomers were coming of age. We were part of a generation of “free love”, “tune in, turn on, and drop out” and rebellion. Yuri Gagarin of the USSR became the first human being to orbit the Earth and John, Bobby and Martin were all assassinated. Congress passed the Civil Rights Act. The EEOC was formed. We became a nation of welfare dependency.
I liked the music of that period even though I never quite understood the meaning of “Mellow Yellow.” Then I would substitute other girls that I knew for “Saffron.” I was mad about her and she was mad about me. “Ma Belle Ami” translates into “My beautiful female friend.” I didn’t understand it back then but I didn’t care – I just liked the way it sounded. I did wonder who exactly was “Uncle Albert” and why did the Beatles sing about “Admiral Halsey?” Jimi Hendrix sang of flying on giant dragonflies and Jim Morrison of the Doors saw himself as the “lizard king.” Pink Floyd, Jefferson Airplane and Iron Butterfly unashamedly wrote music for drug trips. Oh yes, it was indeed the “dawning of the age of Aquarius.”
This article is a continuation from last week. Even though I was part of that generation, I recognized the fact that a lot of the changes were supported by extreme thinking members of my age group and older. Yet in the end, I remained true to my faith, joined the Navy and continued on with a life with a sense of family, freedom, decency. I am glad I lived as a teenager during the 60s and yes, I do remember it. And yes, I am familiar with the subject about which I am writing. During the “summer of love” I was 19 and standing on the corner of Haight and Ashbury in San Francisco with a flower in my hair.
So you see, “change” is not just a current word and campaign slogan. But in reality just how much change do we really need. Generally when one speaks of change, that means one group will gain and one will lose something. Jerry Rubin was one of the leaders of the New Left Yippie movement. He recognized that the essence of the movement was to repel and alienate mainstream American society, setting up radicals as antiestablishment heroes who would have natural appeals to teens and college student seeking to break away from their parents.
Our group is surely making change now. Unfortunately those weirdos who smoked pot all day are now at the age of influence and hold positions of importance. Back then they were followers of socialism, Marx and others. Socialism promotes the idea that man does not need God. They think man is god.
Yes, I made it through the “dawning of the age of Aquarius.” I am a retired Houston Police Officer. I retired from the United States Navy Reserves, I teach a Sunday School Class in a Baptist Church and I didn’t vote for our current President. But guess what? I still listen to the music.
Our son, Hollis, is a full time volunteer at the Kennard School. Earlier in the summer we promised him we would take him to a popular water park in New Braunfels. Our little entourage grew when we invited our friend Bobby and our son and daughter-in-law’s two children. Well we left the park after a long day of splashing, dunking, sliding and bobbing. Since we stayed to the bitter end, we ended up in a line of cars leaving the park. I was driving and the car in front of me stopped so the intersection in front of them would remain open. We were all talking about the rides we had enjoyed when unconsciously I noticed a motorcycle ride up and stop at the stop sign on the cross street. Suddenly the unthinkable happened. I saw the driver of the motorcycle lean forward throttled up. The motorcycle leaped forward and right in front of a car traveling in the opposite direction from us. It was one of those sickening moments. I made an audible sound. Just for a fraction of a second time seemed to stop as I wished the scenario unfolding in front of me was not happening. But it was happening and in that brief period of time I heard the crash as the car struck the motorcycle. The motorcycle was knocked airborne and spinning down the street with pieces flying from it. Likewise the rider went airborne tumbling head over heels through the air about 10 to 12 feet above the ground. I heard Margaret scream. Then it got even worse. I saw the rider hit an electric pole while still in the air. After hitting the pole he immediately fell about 10 feet to the ground. He remained motionless. Margaret was pleading with me to do something – after all, I was the 33 year veteran police officer and I was supposed to know how to handle every situation. The only problem was I couldn’t get my seatbelt off. While I was fumbling with the latch, Bobby jumped out and went to the man’s aid. Then I was out – I ran to where the man was lying face down. I asked Bobby if the man was alive and he was. I then began assisting with the traffic that was starting to back up. The police were there within minutes and then the ambulance. After hanging around for 45 minutes or so and giving a statement to the officer I went back to my vehicle and we continued with our plans to go out for some supper. The attitude in our vehicle was sober. Bobby told us that the rider was conscience when the paramedics picked him up and he was saying that he did not know what happened to him. We discussed how quickly a life can be snuffed out. Just one bad judgment decision and life on this earth is over. As the Sergeant on the TV show “Hill Street Blues” said at the end of each roll call, “And let’s be careful out there.”

Sgt Philip Freemason Esterhaus
Wright Writes September 2, 2010
A friend of mine enticed me to join a certain social networking website about a year ago. Sometimes I refer to it as MyFace. Now I spend a lot of time on my computer with numerous applications but I refuse to spend more than a few minutes on this networking website. Right off the bat, several friends wanted me to get involved with things referred to as Mafia Wars and Farm Ville. That had absolutely no appeal to me. Then I started to see things show up on my computer screen and I was asked to participate in “Best Friend Quiz” and “What country singer tells your story?” I thought that was so ridiculous that I wouldn’t even investigate the matter. From time to time a few of my network “friends” started writing things like where they were going to be or if they had washed their car that day. Then some “friends” took it upon themselves to share with the world their “quote for the day.” One feature that I really like is the ability to find old and lost friends. I was reunited with several high school and military friends because of the website. I basically use the site to alert friends of upcoming music events, since that is where my interest lies.
Having said all that, there is one aspect that I did not foresee. The website gives everyone a platform upon which to voice their opinions and beliefs on politics, justice, religion and other such matters. This is fine as long as all of your friends are in one accord. Margaret and I have music friends all over the country from many various backgrounds. I am a Christian, lean more towards Republican than Democrat and am more conservative than not. Many of my friends in the music world are directly opposite. Of course I already knew this fact but only recently realized their true feelings. In fact, they “hate” people like us and I know this because that is the word they use. I am beginning to think that I am more liberal than a lot of my liberal friends since I don’t hate them for what they believe. I call them friends since I enjoy their company and enjoy playing music with them. I learned a long time ago not to read any stickers on their guitar cases or on their bumpers. Even though my beliefs are strong, I refrain from using bumper stickers and placing too much information on the Internet. I am not saying that you should not participate in expressing your opinions on social websites but just remember, what you write can be read by many others.