Love and War in Texas

Love and War in Texas isn't just a good restaurant in Plano or a Rusty Wier song, it's a pretty good description of what's happening around here these days. Everyday people and businesses love Texas and the economic and social environment it provides. The Obama administration, however, has all but declared war. Texas occupies a large part of this blog and my life. It is my home and my heritage and when someone attacks, it pisses me off, just like it would anyone when their home is threatened. Thank God and the U.S. Constitution that there's an election next year.

Twenty-five million people live in Texas and the population is predicted to grow anywhere from 9 to 18 million in the next 20 years, a pretty good indicator that it's a good place to live. The rest of the country is probably sick of hearing about jobs in Texas so quoting the statistics probably isn't helpful. What most people are not aware of is that Texas (the cheap bastards), despite what you've heard, is actually pretty darn good at public education and improving the environment. More interesting than any of this is why.

Yes, Texas has benefitted from increased oil prices, but they don't control the market. And yes, Texas managed the housing bust better than most because of better lending (and regulation) and realistic valuations. It's not just a lucky coincidence, though; the environment needs to be right for good things to happen. Individuals need the freedom to make decisions in their own best interest. That includes families and businesses, too. Texas is far from perfect, but based on how it is surviving economically and future prospects, it must be doing something right. Among the things Texas gets right ...

• it's a right-to-Work state with marginal political influence from labor unions
• operating costs are low, taxes are reasonable and regulation is relatively fair
• there is a generally pro-business attitude 
• housing and the cost of living are relatively low and fair
• the industrial base is diverse
• there is a culture of independence, self-sufficiency, competition and personal responsibility

There are quite a few states with these characteristics, and I would be happy to live in any of them, though Texas will always be home. Some states, however, don't look like this and I would not live in them because I like living in America. If I wanted to live in Europe, I'd move to the real place, not some Democrat euro-wannabe fantasy-land facsimile.

This is where the conflict begins. Obama proclaimed he wanted to fundamentally change America, and it appears he is attempting to do it by taking down Texas, a great example of what America can do. The Obama administration has clearly demonstrated what he meant by "fundamental change" and it is actually worse than I feared. If he doesn't believe in Texas, if he somehow thinks Texas is wrong or an outlier or the enemy, then he doesn't believe in America. To borrow a phrase from Mark Levin, "That's right. I said it."

Texans voted against Obama in 2008, as everyone, including Obama, knew they would. No one would have expected, however, that Texas would get targeted for punishment by the new president especially considering that Travis County, home of the liberal bastion Austin, had the second largest amount of contributions by county to the Obama campaign, second only to Cook County, Illinois. Is "targeted" too strong? It certainly doesn't seem too strong from here in sunny North Texas.

Google "obama texas vindictive" and you'll get nearly a million hits so obviously the idea of Texas being a target is not new or original. There are plenty of news items describing how this administration treats Texas. Let me save you some trouble. None of the items describe this treatment as fair or equitable. When you connect the dots all lines point to Obama, his statist ideology and his obvious dislike of my home.

• Obama gives a shout-out while the nation mourns ... let's not jump to conclusions though, it's Texas, it's probably some right wing nut job.
• Obama ignores Governor Perry's personal letter on immigration issues and has him hand it to Valerie "Slumlord" Jarrett.
• New York gets a retired space shuttle, but not Houston, home of the program
• Feds withhold Education Money for Texas and when it is finally, rightfully sent Democrats claim that Texas isn't doing that great because it accepts federal aid.
• The sagebrush lizard becomes the Texas version of California's delta smelt
• Thanks to your intimately close friends at the TSA, the feds threaten to shut down Texas airports
• Feds threaten to withold funds if Texas excludes Planned Parenthood from its Women's Health Program
• Texas given token financial support for wildfires by federal government
• $3 billion contract moved from Texas to Wisconsin
• Feds withhold grant money to Texas bus service due to Union dispute
• EPA rejects a successful Texas' flexible air quality permitting program
• Obama's offshore drilling permit moratorium costs Texas jobs 

Some would say these things are simply a return to 'normal' after the (highly debatable  and supposed) advantages Texas received under the Bush administration. Others argue that these things are deserved punishment for non-compliance rather than political retribution. Admittedly, Texas has always been a non-compliant kind of place. And some, of course, simply applaud and say "Well played, Obama!" To a Texan these stories are the poke, poke, poke in your chest from a school yard bully. Will the bully cross the line? Will the persecuted finally bow up ?

If the latest poke doesn't do it, it should.

The EPA has decided to include Texas in a new rule regulating sulfur dioxide emissions. Texas will be included despite the fact that the EPA's own studies showed that Texas was not contributing to higher SO2 levels in 'downwind' states. This was an 11th hour change, with no notification, no scientific justification and no opportunity to participate in the legally required public review and comment process. In short, the EPA, which is without question under the immediate and close direction of the Obama Administration, has chosen to arbitrarily enforce a puntive and undeserved regulation on Texas.

You may think, "What's the big deal? It's just another regulation." This one, however, is especially pernicious. It directly affects several key aspects of Texas' economic success. The significant details of its impact are described here and here, but the short version is that this new mandate will ...

• increase electricty rates by $1 billion per year
• significantly reduce electricity production capacity, hamstringing economic growth
• cost 14,000 jobs in coal and related industries inside Texas
• reduce state revenue
• increase the cost of living
• further destroy the line between state authority and federal demands

Call me part of the vast right wing conspiracy, but here's how I read it. Texas has demonstrated economic success with policies that are the anti-thesis of the Obama administration's. Obama does not tolerate alternative ideas or having his policies and ideology questioned. He is not going to win Texas regardless of what he does between now and the general election. The only way he can reduce the impact that 'The Texas Way' narrative will have in the 2012 campaign, which could be crucial in swing states and with independent (mainstream media, unthinking) voters, is to take the legs out from under the Texas economy, force it to stumble in time for the election. This under cutting can't be too obvious, there's no sense in creating a public dust-up on something major that might grab headlines, so why not use the minions at the EPA to provide distance and cover? It can be implemented quickly (an 11th hour change), without discussion or coverage (no public review and comment) and few outside of Texas will be aware of it (the technical and scientific issues are too daunting for the typical 30 second story on the CBS Evening News ... as if).

Is my reading far-fetched? Perhaps, but here's another nugget of information regarding this supposedly objective EPA decision. Just as Texas was added to the mandate at the last minute several other states were dropped, including Connecticut, Delaware, Florida, Louisiana, Massachusetts and the District of Columbia, despite all of them being part of the initial reports and plans and despite them collectively contributing much more to the problem. Four blue and two swing. Imagine that. An unexpected turn of events, don't you think?

Am I too cynical, too paranoid? Maybe. Are there any blue states that have received treatment similar to Texas under this administration? If so, that still doesn't justify Obama's treatment of Texas, and it would only prove that Texas has not been singled out, that there is more than one target in his undeclared war. These incidents, and my interpretation of them, prove nothing except for the fact that Texas has and will suffer under this administration. Given this fact, I can see only a few possible explanations for Obama's actions.

• The suffering is entirely unintentional, an unforeseen consequence of policies that were truly intended to be a benefit. If that is the case, Obama is incompetent.
• The suffering is entirely intentional and the punishment is deserved. If that is the case, Obama is a ruler, not a leader of free people, enforcing his will through bureaucracy and executive order, ignoring the people, eroding the republic and denying our God-given rights.
• Some of the punishment is intentional, some is incidental. If that is the case, Obama is simply arrogant and petty. Arrogant because he is unconcerned about the incidental suffering, and petty because he, like every bully, builds himself up by keeping someone else down.

My Texas sensitivities obviously affect my perspective. Putting those aside it's easy to see that Texas is not the only target. Israel, Rush Limbaugh, small business owners, non-union workers, women, the unborn, the insurance industry, doctors, Fox News, Great Britain, the Cambridge police, Republicans, corpsmen, Sarah Palin, clingers, minority students in DC, citizens living on the border, double income families, those who like their health insurance, those who believe marriage is between one man and one woman, tax payers, Supreme Court Justices, Las Vegas, white voters in Philadelphia, market proven energy companies, those affected by the individual mandate, medicare and medicaid recipients, those counting on Social Security, children and grand-children ... all of these and more have been in Obama's cross-hairs  The question is, do they know it and are they willing to win this war by voting him out of office.

A True Story

Nearly 30 years ago I went to a gun show at Dallas Market Hall. It was around Thanksgiving and I bought a very clean Weatherby 12 gauge pump shotgun for myself as an early Christmas present. I paid around $180 for it, and I still have it. In the front corner of the hall, where individuals rented tables to sell their personal collections, was a small table covered with pamphlets. It was staffed by a passionate, middle-aged man wearing a white dress shirt, a bolo tie, and two pieces, the vest and slacks, of his Sunday church suit. He wore a pocket watch with a chain which was tucked into the vest pocket and from the chain dangled a prominent enameled Texas flag. There must have been a dozen different pamphlets with titles like 'Federal Overreach and You!' and 'Missing the Mark: The Founding Father's Vision' and 'Who Really Owns Your Home: Property Taxes & Eminent Domain Explained.' He was soliciting signatures for a petition. I didn't read it or sign it but I knew it was about secession, specifically about making Texas an independent nation again. That was the first time I remember hearing about Texas independence. I immediately labeled it crazy-talk.

It's not sounding quite so crazy these days.

My change in attitude is not the result of some specific event that crossed some line and flipped my

switch, though there have been many such things over these past 30 years. To take one example, I remove my shoes at the airport like everyone else. Some see this requirement for what it is, a violation of the 4th Amendment, an erosion of liberty, and trading rights for the appearance of security. Those who don't see it that way can only argue that it is a trivial, inconsequential thing, a standard refrain when rights are trimmed away, but that does not refute the argument. Our liberties have been eroded over decades; it is a sneaky process. It is so subtle it is hard to see when the line has been crossed because the line, you see, keeps being moved. There was not some epiphanic event that sent me to shouting "SECESSION!" As frustrating as the news is each and every day, my attitude change on Texas independence was not based solely on emotion, though it does play a part.

The engineer in me would love to be able to explain the details of how Texas Independence might work, providing specific examples in areas like trade and tax and transportation. I'd like to say "See! This is better!" But I know that plans and people are not perfect; there are no guarantees. We can attempt to tune the economic and social dials, to synchronize the inputs and moderate the outputs, but some things, especially the large important things, are beyond our abilities of macro-control and require the fine adjustments of millions of fathers and mothers and teachers and owners to move the compass to an appropriate direction. Those who argue for smaller government and local control have one powerful argument, that smaller is easier to manage, but our lives, both our social and our private lives, are not intended to be managed, monitored and measured. They are intended to be lived. We fool ourselves into thinking that if only we had a more controllable system, something smaller, something restricted, something manageable, that it would be "better." Texas Independence may be a logical solution, but logic and efficiency and practicality by themselves are not sufficient to let me endorse such a drastic change. In less than 200 years a perfectly rational system of government, designed to thwart tyranny, has itself become tyrannical, though we hesitate to name it that. The next thing we try must be more than logical.

It would be impossible, in the course of these few paragraphs, to assemble the evidence and lay out my case for how Texas Independence is not crazy-talk. It is not an open and shut case. The evidence for and against is compelling, and it shifts based on prejudice and perspective. Some might say the winning argument is obvious based on logic and emotion, but the other side is making the exact same case. This is how trials work. Both sides present their case, the judge defines the legal boundaries for the jury, and a jury decides guilt on the preponderance of evidence. In this case, there are no legal boundaries, or if there are they are without question set up in favor of the present legal authorities. When you challenge the legal authorities your case needs to be made in an extra-legal manner, appealing to higher, incorruptible judgment. There is no legal case to be made. The case for Texas Independence should be about truth, not the definitions and nuances of truth that are distilled and framed and simplified for a jury.

And so, what are we left with to make the case, win the argument and convince people that Texas Independence is not just crazy-talk?  We have all of the above, emotion and reason and evidence, and we have the story.

The power of the story can be illustrated by the popular TV show 'American Pickers.' In it two guys, Mike and Frank, with an antique store in Iowa, drive around the country and attempt to buy interesting items, antiques, and collectibles from other collectors and hoarders and junk dealers. Sometimes Mike and Frank find an item and have an emotional connection to it. Maybe it's unique and they haven't seen one before, or maybe they connect personally, or maybe it simply has some quality that draws them to it. They become emotionally invested in it and do their best to acquire it. Other times, they find an item that fits a need, or will be perfect for an existing client, or will complete some project. Acquiring these kind of items is a practicality, a logical necessity. Sometimes neither emotion or logic are involved. Sometimes it is simply business and they have to weigh the pros and cons of acquiring the item. They consider all of the evidence ... the price, the potential selling price, what their customers like, how it can best be presented ... and then they must decide to buy or pass.

If we put ourselves in Mike and Frank's place, would we pay the price for Texas Independence? Most Texans are emotionally connected to being Texan, to living here, to the swagger and the independence and even the landscape, the wide open spaces. We can also understand the logical arguments, the value of local control and the relief from federal interference in our lives. We would struggle with legal arguments, with evaluating all the evidence and reconciling our obligation to current legal authorities. Texas Independence would impact many aspects of our lives and there would be good arguments, indeed there would be too many arguments, on both sides, for people to make a fully informed decision. Though emotion and logic can be powerful arguments, the real strength in the idea of Texas Independence is in the story that supports it, and what the story says about us, about Texans.

Mike and Frank, regardless of their feelings or thinking, always buy the item with a good story. Who owned it? How did they use it? Where did it come from? What significance did it have in the owners life or in the community or in the historical context? The story sells it, not only to Mike and Frank, but from Mike and Frank to their customers. The caveat, however, is that the story must be true. If it is not, all the value disappears and there is no reason for further consideration. No one wants to pay the price for an original and end up with a reproduction.

Texas Independence may be emotionally appealing to some and be logical to others. Those in favor or against should be able to make a strong case for their position based strictly on evidence and legal definitions, but their argument must be true to win the case. The phrase "beyond a shadow of a doubt" is often used to describe the conviction that a jury member should have before voting "guilty." It is an unrealistic standard that can never be truly met. We all doubt. The intent of the phrase is to show that "guilty" is a vote for truth. Facts are impartial. Evidence is not. Evidence is presented and speculated on and seeded with doubt from one side or the other. It is the jury's job to decide which story regarding the evidence is true.

This writing began as an exercise in trying to understand and explain to myself, and others, why I

have come to the conclusion that Texas Independence is a viable, non-crazy solution to the crazy, and dangerous, political climate in today's United States. The emotional argument, rooted in simply paying attention to the daily news, is not sufficient by itself. Having Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump as our presidential nominees certainly makes me angry and sad, but using that argument alone makes shouting "SECESSION!" seem like the predictable "I'm moving to Canada!" threats seen during every presidential election. The logical argument, trading the unsustainable federal spending and debt for a solvent Texas and any other number of similar situations, though reasonable, doesn't work for many people because they want to believe the spending can be curtailed and the debt can be retired. They believe that the current situation can be fixed, either by electing the right people or promoting an appropriate hashtag. The legal approach of presenting evidence and allowing the public, as jury, to decide is not reliable. The current system is obviously biased against getting rid of itself, and it would be difficult to trust the evidence as presented by either the media or current political leaders, both of which are notoriously dishonest. And so we are left to decide where the truth resides without any available trustworthy thing.

Should we stay, or should we go?

When a jury is charged with identifying the truth of one side or the other they have much to consider. First they have to determine which version of the evidence presented is most reasonable. Then they have to try to discern from the testimony of others, and by observing the defendant and witnesses, which statements are true or false. Finally, they must understand the legal parameters and what they are allowed to consider. No matter how the case evolves there is one thing that will definitively shift their vote and that is truth or, importantly, the absence of truth. My contention, and the reason I think that Texas Independence is no longer just crazy-talk, is that we now know the American story, the United States story, is no longer true and the falsification of that means the other story, Texas Independence, is more true until proven otherwise. If one story is provably false, the other should win.

I believe the American story, at one time, was true. Drastic measures, like a Convention of States, might help reclaim some of that truth, but we are currently not living in the environment envisioned by our founders and by the Constitution which theoretically binds us. We are now Americans in name only and our options, at this point, are to reclaim the truth of the American vision through an Article V convention, or strike out on our own and establish a new true story for Texas. I side with striking out on our own, if only because the current system is corrupt and untrustworthy. I support both an Article V Convention of States, in an attempt to preserve the great American experiment, and Texas Independence, in an attempt to reclaim lost liberty, re-establish the idea of God-given rights and to be a part of a true story, or at least the attempt to create one.

Gone To Texas

The Next Great Adventure: A True Story

Gone To Texas!

Mom, me, Neil, Cindy, Jennifer

My annual performance review at Kraft in 1984 was nothing but good news, or so Harry, the Accounting Center Manager, informed me. I graded out as the top accounting center supervisor, I received the highest percentage raise possible (3%!), and if I went back to school to get an MBA I could be eligible for a promotion in 5 or 8 years, by which time he was sure there would be some retirements to make room for me. Harry didn't really understand me. The review did nothing for my enthusiasm towards the corporate world. I wanted to learn and conquer new things. It seemed more like a prison sentence than an "attaboy."

I couldn't let myself look for another job; that wouldn't have been the practical, grown-up thing to do, especially since I thought my role was to be the career person in the family. There was no internet to search for jobs back in Texas, and though Cindy was making friends, enjoying her job, and keeping us busy socially, I knew she wanted to be closer to home. Fortunately, my friend and mentor, the man who taught me everything practical about managing people, David Johnson, called from Texas. Jerry Hancock and David were planning on opening some Grandy's franchises in South Texas, starting in Victoria, and he called to ask if I was interested in being part of the launch.

It took me about a nanosecond to decide ... we would be back in Texas, I would be working for David, doing much more tangible work than shuffling papers, and it would be an adventure. It took me a little more time to sell Cindy on the idea. She had reservations. Though we would be in Texas, it's a six hour drive from Victoria to Rowlett, and was there even a shopping mall in Victoria? Neither of us had ever heard of it. She actually agreed pretty easily and her project management skills came quickly in to play to get us moved back.

We lived with Darvis and Frances for several weeks while I completed management training. Cindy

Early Grandy's crew

took a trip or two to Victoria to find an apartment and get the lay of the land. Before we knew it we were settling in to the Villa Chateau apartments on Miori Lane, directly across the street from Victoria High School, Home of the Stingarees. We later learned that the marching band practiced pretty early in the morning, and since the stadium was across the street, too, Friday nights would generate the nearest thing to a traffic jam in Victoria around our apartment. It was a great apartment. The only thing Cindy didn't like was the squirrel that harassed her from the courtyard fence, and the avocado green counter tops and harvest gold appliances.

Once again, Cindy got a job via a temporary agency, with the idea that she could do the "temp-to-perm" thing like she did in Atlanta. It didn't quite work out that way. She was placed at the Dupont chemical plant outside of town as an Accounts Payable clerk. Dupont wouldn't hire her as a full time employee, but they did hire her as a contract worker through the temp agency. At some point the Cain Chemical Company bought out a portion of the Dupont plant. Cindy had an opportunity to leave the contract and go to work directly for Cain in 1987, which she did. Less than a year after Cindy was hired, Cain sold out to Occidental Chemicals, and Cindy began her career with Oxy.

Cindy, Kathy P. & Vickie
Dupont Santa volunteers

I was working at a restaurant so my schedule varied. David always did his best to make sure I had either Sunday or Saturday off, because those were Cindy's days off, and if I had to work those days I usually worked breakfast shift Saturday or night shift on Sunday, which meant I either came home early or left for work late. Cindy, of course, was not one to sit idly at home. She started going to Victoria Community College, taking classes to earn her real estate license and at one point taking a golf class with her buddies. She never finished the real estate classes, though she did make some great friends. Even though she learned to swing a club and play a little golf, the major outcome of that class was that I started playing golf. I would go to the driving range to watch her practice and think, "I can do that." When I couldn't, it made me determined to master that frustrating sport, which I still haven't accomplished.

The real estate education prompted Cindy to start looking for a house to buy. I was not keen on the idea. It seemed like it would be an enormous amount of debt, not to mention the effort and expense involved in maintaining a house, but Cindy was determined. I was fairly confident that she wouldn't find anything. Our credit was mediocre, we didn't really have any sort of money for a down payment, and frankly, the economy was pretty terrible at the time. Oil and gas had taken a big hit, which consequently had a big impact on the restaurant expansion plans, which were now on hold. I couldn't imagine anyone loaning us money to buy a house.

Well, of course, Cindy found a house. It was a neat little 1300 square foot house on Suzanne Lane

The house on Suzanne today
according to Google

and we got the house by assuming the mortgage. The owners couldn't afford the payments and the bank was willing to let us assume the loan. It cost us about $700 to close and we were suddenly home owners. It was a gamble, one that we worried about the following year when the interest rate went up on the loan. We wrote the bank and told them we needed to renegotiate the rate or we wouldn't be able to make the payments. They apparently already owned too many houses so they worked with us and actually lowered the rate.

Many of the Dupont employees who went to work for Cain were given or purchased equity in the company. Unfortunately, equity was only available to employees if they had transferred from Dupont or if they had worked for Cain for more than a year. It turned out that of all the Cain employees in Victoria only Cindy and one other person were not eligible to share in any of the profit from the buyout. The owners decided to give Cindy and the other person a bonus equivalent to one year's salary. The impact on our financial situation was tremendous. Aside from the mortgage we were able to get out of debt from credit cards and car loans. Without those payments we were able to actually start saving a little. This was a major turning point for us in several ways.

Cindy had always been a high performing employee. When she went to work for Oxy she began to envision a career instead of just a job. The idea that someone thought enough of her work to give a year's salary as a bonus shifted her self-perception and her future plans. She was already making more money than me, and had better benefits in terms of insurance and retirement plans. She was good at her job, she enjoyed it, and she was appreciated.

A rare ice event wrecks the exit sign

It was the 80's. The accepted wisdom of the day was that women needed to find satisfaction in a career in order to be happy, that being a wife and mother were no longer enough. Cindy actually struggled with that. She would get frustrated with me when I didn't appreciate her homemaking skills. I thought she was doing those things because she wanted to. I certainly didn't expect her to do cooking, cleaning, etc on her own. I'd been doing those things since I was a kid. My Mom certainly made it clear that housework was not her task alone. My only problem was that my homemaking efforts were rarely up to Cindy's standards.

Both of us were in uncertain territory. Cindy felt like she should be homemaker first and career person second. I felt like I should be contributing more financially and have an actual career instead of just a job, or at least a plan for a career. I worked an odd schedule and Cindy always had work and social activities going on. We basically lived separate lives throughout the work week; she was often asleep when I got home, and I was asleep when she left. She would make plans for our time off together, but rarely for just the two of us.

There were times when she seemed to be upset that I didn't demand more of her time and attention, like it would have been simpler for her if I was a husband who demanded dinner on the table at 6PM sharp, and I know there were times that I was jealous of her time at work or with friends, but we never kept score. We just focused on things in front of us, looking forward to the next adventure.

We learned to be independent partners. There were some clear lines of responsibility. Cindy always did the finances because I didn't want to and she did. I always did home maintenance, car repair and whatever she told me to do on weekends. That's not a complaint. I didn't truly mind doing what she wanted to do. I just wanted to spend time with her. The exception was church. Cindy joined a Lutheran church that her friend Vickie attended, but I wasn't willing to go that far to be with her.

There was one planned weekend activity that had long term repercussions. It was my 30th birthday and Cindy decided that it was a big enough milestone to plan a party, despite my protests. She thought the way around it would be to plan a party in conjunction with Vickie's birthday, who was turning 40 around the same time, sort of a share-the-spotlight thing. She and some friends planned a joint "70th Birthday Party" for us, because 30 + 40 = 70 or something. They rented a pavilion at Coleto Creek Reservoir and there was barbecue and a couple of kegs and a bunch of people.

I was miserable. I looked around the party and realized that every single person there was from Cindy and Vickie's friends and family. All of "my" friends were working at the restaurant. I endured endless questions about all variety of things from these people that didn't know me. Yes, I'm a restaurant manager. Yes, I have a college degree. No, it's not in restaurant management. Yes, Cindy is amazing. No, we aren't planning children anytime soon. No, I don't think Cindy will become a stay-at-home Mom someday. No, I don't belong to a church. It was absolute torture and I let Cindy know it. She never planned another birthday party for me again, and I remain grateful for that.

Katy's 60th Birthday Party

We were back in Texas and took full advantage of the proximity to family. We would go to Pampa or Rowlett for Thanksgiving and Christmas, though they were often abbreviated trips due to the demands of restaurant scheduling. We would drive up US-59 to Jefferson and "camp out" with the Calhouns for vacations at Lake O' the Pines. I only recall one trip when I drove directly to Pampa from Victoria, which was about a 10 hour drive.

Cindy's family came down fairly regularly, too. We had a birthday party for Aunt Katy in the Chateau Villa apartment, and everyone came down to help us move into the house on Suzanne Lane. My father-in-law Darvis bought a truck from the Chevy dealer in Cuero, and Steve, Rodney, Darvis and I all went fishing on the Wharf Cat out of Port Aransas in 8 foot seas (never again). My father even made it down for a visit. He never knew Cindy, only meeting her briefly before we got married. While I was working Dad was home with Cindy, who doted on him and let him tell her stories. For supper one night she made lasagna and Dad, who would regularly refuse to eat pasta of any sort, ate it without complaint. I told Cindy that was a sure sign that he liked her, and he did. A lot. He often told me "She's too purty for you, you better watch your step."

Breckenridge ski trip - very 80s

Though the birthday party was torture, we made many good friends in Victoria and at some point I no longer considered them "Cindy's friends." There was Vickie, who taught me to waltz properly, and her husband Glenn, who loved our Dalmatians, Pearl and Cosmo ... getting a dog was a pre-requisite for me agreeing to buy the house. Cindy's carpool buddies (along with Vickie) were Jeanette and Kathy, who taught Cindy it was okay to stop for beers in paper bags on the way home on Friday evenings. Jay and Kathy Page were our party buddies, everything from trips to Wurstfest in New Braunfels to all day & all night cook outs in their backyard. We vacationed with a wide range of engineers from Cain and Oxy in Breckenridge for skiing and for our first trip to Las Vegas. Connie Filley, who Cindy met via the real estate classes, and her husband George, who was the District Attorney at the time, were good friends. We went to Stingaree football games in Corpus Christi with them, and George found Cindy a snub-nose .38 Special S&W to carry when she was driving back and forth to Houston for work. I still have it.

You know they're true friends when they'll board your dogs, feed you, buy you beers, plan vacations with you, and arm you when they think it's appropriate.


So much more happened in those years. There were so many opportunities to grow and learn about each other and simply learn how to be married. We had so many positive role models for marriage. David and Barbara. Jerry and Nancy. Jim and Kim, who were our peers as a young married couple, but had a different and very "in this together" partnership model compared to our more independent one. All the couples mentioned above. Glen and Vicky. Leroy and Jeanette. Garry and Kathy. Jay and Kathy. Joe and Evelyn Laza, Vickie's parents. If Atlanta was the honeymoon, Victoria was the proving grounds where we learned to work together and become true partners, even as we learned to become the individuals we were meant to be.

At some point in the late 80's Cindy forced me to go to the dermatologist. And I mean forced because she said "I've made the appointment. Be there." It turned out that I had a mole on my chest that was malignant, most likely caused by too many summer sunburns as a kid. They biopsied the mole on Thursday and said the results would be back Monday. We spent the weekend agonizing over what a bad result might mean. On Monday I called the dermatologist, Dr. Cox, during my morning break. When the nurse said, "Oh hello Mr. Turner, let me get those results" and then returned to the call and said "Uh, the doctor will call you back shortly," I knew it was bad news.

I waited before calling Cindy, because I knew she would want to know the plan. They scheduled me to take even more tissue on Thursday that week. For two weeks we walked on eggshells, waiting for the second biopsy result, not knowing what might happen. In the end it was all fine. The cancer had not spread, but we learned what a cancer diagnosis looked like, and it served as a reality check for both of us. Nothing is promised in this life, no matter how badly you want it.

There is one other story that must be told from our time in Victoria, because it was a fork in the road where a choice was made that changed the course of our life together. It's remarkable how much clarity there is in hindsight, isn't it?

Cindy had been asked to serve on a high-profile project team to implement a new accounting related computer system. As part of the kick-off for the project she had to travel to San Francisco for a week long planning meeting with the vendor and the Oxy team. She left on Sunday and planned to fly back on Friday night. On Thursday morning she called and said she would be coming home that night and she would tell me about the trip when she got home. I thought the project had been cancelled.

It turned out that in the meeting on Thursday morning, in an Oxy only meeting, some man stood up, pointed to Cindy and said "I just want to know who she has been sleeping with to get put on this team." Cindy was the only woman on the team. There was, apparently, some concern from some wives that a woman was on the team. She was shocked. Hurt. Confused. She said nothing, packed her stuff up, went to the hotel, checked out, called me, and came home. When we finally had a chance to talk about it we had a long talk about careers and jobs and goals and our expectations for each other. I told her that I only wanted her to be happy, to do whatever she wanted and to come home to me. She said she only wanted me to let her try, and to trust her. She wanted to prove that she deserved to be on that team, which she did, for the next 30 years.

In Victoria we made the decision, though not in specific terms, that Cindy would pursue a career, and I would support and encourage her. It was an important inflection point. I had no responsibility to become the primary bread-winner and career oriented partner, though I've always worked hard and honestly. She had no duty to be the wife/homemaker, though she managed to do that to her high standards, which were above my expectations.

We moved forward, eyes open, understanding the choice we had made. I had moved us from Texas to Atlanta and back to Texas in pursuit of my nebulous career goals. I now knew that future moves would be driven by Cindy, and I was okay with that, truly. I just wanted her to be happy. She got so much satisfaction and validation from work, in ways that I could never provide, that I knew it was the right thing to do, though I did have to learn to share her with work. It was an unspoken agreement made with the best of intentions, and for the most part, it worked out well.

Texas politics & head rattling

The "just talking to hear your head rattle"* line that my Dad often used had various meanings. Sometimes it meant that the case had been overstated, much like Shakespeare's lady that protests too much . Sometimes it simply meant that the comment served no purpose, the sin of wasted effort. Most often it meant that the comment had no value because it was repetitious, extraneous or nonsensical.

The point of bringing this up is to state my intention to keep this blog from being just another head rattle. Just remember, intentions are not guarantees.

I'm also going to take an opportunity to point you to a political debate that, believe it or not, had no rattling that I could hear.

I don't live in Midland, or in Texas House district 82 for that matter, but a high school classmate of mine, Bill Dingus , is running for State Representative out there, and I spent a little time watching the online replay of his debate with Texas Speaker of the House Tom Craddick. I was impressed with both candidates, though I have to admit I could still see some smart-assery from Bill that I remembered from dear old Pampa High School, and which I still admire.

In the interest of full disclosure, I haven't seen or talked to Bill in at least 20 years, so it's not like we are close pals. I just heard about the race in the news because Bill's name caught my eye and because Speaker Craddick is, shall we say, "newsworthy". I also have to admit that yes, I was one of those people "outside the district" that was discussed in the debate who contributed to Bill's campaign. I know, I know ... he's a Democrat, but what can I say? I believe his slogan that he's "One of the Good Guys."

I was a little concerned about the "change" theme I heard from Bill in the debate. I thought he might be trying to tag along with the Obama mantra, or that the main reason for needing change was simply because Mr. Craddick had been there too long. That's more valid than the Obama thing because politicians in the same office for such a long time tend to get entrenched and obligated (not to mention a pension in excess of $100K per year and $1,000 toilets), but it could be seen simply as change for change sake, which is not always the right thing to do.

But here's the difference maker for me. Obama talks about "fundamental change", but his version undermines American values ... he wants to "spread the wealth" and give labor unions the right to intimidate which I don't believe reflect our values. He says, essentially, that we, meaning our values and moral premises, are broken and need to be fixed. I don't believe that.

Bill, on the other hand, is seeking change that restores American values ... that says we can do better like electing representatives that are responsible to their constituents instead of special interests , and voting out representatives that don't reflect democratic ideals.

If only I could vote in the District 82 election ... anyone know of an ACORN office in Midland?

The opinions expressed here are my own.



* The Joe Biden bobble-head doll ... I hope they remember to make the head rattle.

Listen to the Music

Here's a snippet from an email sent out by the Republican Party of Texas this evening:

Texas is home to three of these so-called Blue Dog Democrats who are caving to the radical leftwing Democrats. They are Rep. Chet Edwards (D-Waco), Rep. Gene Green (D-Houston) and Rep. Ciro Rodriguez (D-San Antonio). These Blue Dogs should not be Pelosi's lap dogs. They need to hear from Texans that enough is enough, and a vote for the Democrats’ government-run health care system will be the end of their political careers. Please follow the links and call them, now.

Here's a snippet from an email that Barack sent out about 1PM today:

It’s time to fix our unsustainable insurance system and create a new foundation for health care security. That means guaranteeing your health care security and stability with eight basic consumer protections:

* No discrimination for pre-existing conditions
* No exorbitant out-of-pocket expenses, deductibles or co-pays
* No cost-sharing for preventive care
* No dropping of coverage if you become seriously ill
* No gender discrimination
* No annual or lifetime caps on coverage
* Extended coverage for young adults
* Guaranteed insurance renewal so long as premiums are paid

Over the next month there is going to be an avalanche of misinformation and scare tactics from those seeking to perpetuate the status quo. But we know the cost of doing nothing is too high. Health care costs will double over the next decade, millions more will become uninsured, and state and local governments will go bankrupt.

No doubt some smart person on some well respected blog could dissect either email, pinpoint the lies and fabrications and deliver some unassailable commentary about the respective truthfulness of these missives. This is not that blog. This is just arguing with a fencepost, and this is what the fencepost hears from me.

On the one hand you have an aggressive, purely political call to action that names names and details consequences. The Republican Party of Texas makes no bones about it. They write the labels in bold letters ... "leftwing radicals", "lap dogs", "government-run healthcare" ... and the call to action is quite clear.

On the other you have the broad 'we're gonna fix it' brush covering over every nagging healthcare problem, with "new foundations" and "guarantees." Instead of naming names, it insinuates that any information that doesn't support 'doing something' is just "misinformation and scare tactics" and then it immediately tries to scare the crap out of you with "costs will double" and "uninsured" and "bankrupt."

No reading between the lines or parsing the phrasing is really necessary, is it? Just read it and get a feel for it ... the tone ... the manipulation* ... the agenda. The conclusion I came to was this:

If bullshit was music, Barack would be a brass band.**




* it reminds me of Mr. Mainway's attempt to market the Bag O' Glass

** based on a Paddy Crosbie quote

Remembering Bessie

I was scanning some photos when I came across this faded one of my first car, a 1956 Chevy. No, it wasn't the V8 Bel-Air model, it was a straight 6, 2 door, three on the tree, Model 210. The picture was taken in 1975, at Hobart Street Park in Pampa, Texas shortly after a new paint job. It wasn't a particularly fine paint job, but it was affordable. I called her Bessie.

I thought that I should scan the photo, save it, before it completely faded away.

Bessie had a semi-interesting history. Uncle Lonzo, my Dad's older brother, Marion Lonzo, bought the car for his daughter, my cousin Sue. Sue lived in California and though I'm not completely sure of the history, at some point M.L., which is what the adults called Uncle Lonzo, drove the car from California back to Texas. Through some brotherly dealings, and probably because it had several mechanical problems, Dad ended up with the car and drove it as his 'work car', as opposed to the 'family car' which was usually the newest model sedan in the fleet, though that didn't necessarily mean it was any more mechanically sound than the others. 'Work car' simply meant that it was safe to throw a transmission in the trunk or haul livestock in the back seat when necessary.

The car eventually ended up on blocks (meaning cinder blocks for those of you unfamiliar with the practice) in our back yard, behind the garage. At 15 I had an unquenchable lust for independent transportation so I started bugging my parents for a car, particularly my Dad because I knew he had a weakness for buying automobiles. Dad generously "gave" me the 56 Chevy, and thinking that might be my only shot at having a car of my own, I took it.

Aside from battery, tires, belts, hoses, muffler and assorted fluids, the car also needed a steering column, suspension bits, a shift linkage and U-joints. It probably needed an engine overhaul, too, but that was beyond my expertise and finances. At the time I took ownership I had no idea of the extensive repairs needed because the first order of business was to remove the four foot weeds growing up through the front grill and de-flea the trunk that had served as a dog house and nursery for some recent batch of puppies.

By the time I got my license, and with some mechanical assistance from Dad and friends, Bessie had come to life. Later, with financial assistance from Mom, came the paint job and a new vinyl interior. Bessie had been transformed from a back yard junker to, if not exactly stylish and enviable, at least unique transportation in an eclectic sort of way. I was 16. Eclectic was cool.

When I was a senior, Dad found a deal on a 1971 Chevy Monte Carlo at a used car lot in Booker, TX. It had a 350 V8, air conditioning, an automatic transmission, forest green metallic paint, rally wheels and a black vinyl roof. I was in love. My friend Don White rode up to Booker with me and Dad to pick it up one night in March. Don and I took it for a test drive while Dad negotiated. It had little or no gas in it so we put $5 worth in it at the Allsup's. Dad's comment was if we were going to spend that much on gas we might as well buy it. We drove it back in a dust storm. Bessie was parked again, but at least this time in the relative shelter of a tin garage.

In 1983, not long after I got married, I wrecked a 1974 Monte Carlo that had replaced the '71. I had no insurance and ended up selling the '74 to help pay for the damage on the other people's cars. We were living in Atlanta so I called my brother Bill, probably collect, and asked him to do what was necessary to get Bessie drivable. Cindy and I flew to Amarillo and drove Bessie from Pampa to Atlanta in the middle of summer. Cindy learned the value of a Kool-Cushion before we made it to U.S. 287.

Soon after we moved back to Texas, to Victoria, Bessie was again put into storage. After keeping her in the garage for a couple of years, with all the best intentions of doing a proper restoration*, I finally gave up the dream and sold her for $1200 to a high school kid who was lusting for some transportation.

So now, Bessie's memory, and photo, are preserved and though I may be the only person that cares, it is done.

Previously I mentioned Mr. Nooncaster, my senior English teacher at Pampa High School. One of his standard assignments was the infamous "Thursday Paper." We would show up in class, a topic would be written on the board, and we had the class period to write an essay related to it. When we returned to class on Friday he would have picked out exactly two papers to read to the class as examples of good compositions. The reason I bring this up here is because the only one of my Thursday compositions he ever read was one I wrote about my car, Bessie. I just remembered that fact. And I also remember the topic which was something like "details a casual observer might miss."

A lot of my life has, unintentionally I think, been devoted to preserving memories. I try to teach my son the things I was taught about family and community and country and God. I tell stories, not because they are historically important ... who cares about the old cars I have owned ... but because regardless of the topic, stories are more than preserved facts. We all read between the lines to assess ourselves and to understand the author. I worry about details a casual reader might not get, but I trust a careful reader will. I remember that Mr. Nooncaster chose my essay, and I remember the topic, and I wonder what I have done that will be remembered.

* example of a proper restoration

1901

Have you seen the commercial for the 2010 Cadillac SRX ... "the Cadillac of Crossovers?"  It features a song by a band named Phoenix.  The song title is 1901 .. nineteen zero one.  The front man for the band, Thomas Mars, explains the meaning of the song as, "It’s a song about Paris. Paris in 1901 was better than what it is now. It’s still nice, but 1901 was better. This is a fantasy about Paris." Phoenix is not from Arizona, or even East Texas.  They are French.

I actually like the song.  It's catchy, though the chorus sounds like "fallin'" instead of "folded" and lyrically its confusing as hell.  They're French, I'm from Texas, misunderstandings are to be expected, but it's a nice, simple, catchy pop song and who knows, it may actually help sell Cadillacs.  It struck me as something bigger than a good song for car commercial, not because it has any particular artistic significance, but because of what it indicates to me in a marketing sense.

Several years ago, when Elvis and Johnny Cash and The Rolling Stones and The Beatles songs first started appearing in jingles old hippies everywhere must have been cringing with disgust at the crass commercialism of it all.  Even anti-establishment icons like Neil Young, Joan Baez and Bob Dylan have gotten airplay in advertising.  Elton John, Lionel Ritchie, Sting, U2 and KISS were obvious choices as pop artists for advertising; they always seemed as much interested in commerce as art.  Today, a relatively unknown band (Phoenix has never had a Top 40 hit) is actually selling music based on being in a Cadillac commercial.  Surely this says something about the intersection of art and advertising and culture, but damned if I know what that might be.

I can tell you what it means to me.  It means that tail end baby boomers like me are nearing the end of their demographic power.  It wasn't that long ago that every commercial resonated with me, and though I would deny it if asked, Mick Jagger wailing about "can't get no satisfaction" at the very least caught my attention and at the very most made me think the product being advertised was gloriously cool.  And more importantly, they were pitching to me and my peers.  Now? ... not so much.

Having been at the center of the advertising demographic target for the past 20 some-odd years, and recognizing the end of my run as a prime target, I can speak with some authority about how being catered to skews your perspective.  It's all a bit shocking when the "new thing" makes no sense and you realize that the advertiser isn't talking to you anymore.  It seems that when generations slip from the center they start grabbing for the foundations of their life, and principles become more important than fashion.

My time as the center of attention seems wasted; I should have gotten more out of it.  That is probably how most people and most generations feel about it, because things seem to have changed without reason.  One day your lusting after an Oldsmobile 454 then boom, you're shopping for cars and comparing the miles per gallon.  It's sobering to think that your individual purchasing decisions have influenced, however minutely, the direction of something as vast as the automobile market.  It's hard to connect the dots from muscle car to turbo diesel, but they are there.

Having a perspective from outside the target zone, after so long in the crosshairs, is somewhat refreshing.  Drifting from the center of attention makes it easier to recognize the loss of power and be more objective about things.  Decisions in retrospect are much easier to categorize as rational or emotional, practical or extravagant, honest or expedient.  Looking back also leads to "old timer's syndrome," when memories of the past make the present seem shoddy ... like Paris today compared to 1901.


Many people associate "old timer's syndrome" with conservativism, that unless we return to 1955 we are doomed, but that's just a word game that liberals play ... liberals are progressive and therefore conservatives must be regressive.  Conservatism is about keeping what works, discarding what doesn't and being open to new things that do not destroy what is already proven.  I wonder if the young Frenchmen in Phoenix realize that a band from Texas called The Light Crust Doughboys paved the way for them?

Oh, Atlanta!

The Next Great Adventure: A True Story

Oh, Atlanta!

We were married on a Saturday night, and spent that night in a hotel we could afford in Denton, Texas. The next morning we drove to Rowlett, loaded a small U-Haul trailer with a few pieces of furniture, and various housewares and clothes, and hitched it the back of Cindy's Buick Regal. After lunch with her family, we headed to Atlanta. The plan was to drive until we were tired of driving and check into a hotel along the way.

We couldn't go very fast towing the trailer. Before we got out of Texas I noticed a funny smell. We stopped to get gas and while checking things out I noticed the transmission fluid was low and the dipstick seemed warmer than it should be. I bought fluid, topped it off and decided it would be better to drive slower. That seemed to help, but 55 MPH was miserably slow. We took turns driving, but Cindy definitely preferred driving to riding. We had decided to postpone the honeymoon until we had the funds to actually take one, and I had to be at work on Tuesday. We ended up spending the night on the east side the Mississippi River, in Vicksburg, and with a leisurely pace rolled in to Atlanta in the late afternoon Monday.

Atlanta is in the foothills of the Appalachian Mountains, on the Eastern Continental Divide. Arriving from the west on I-20 there are curves and hills and trees blocking your view as you approach, which is quite different from the open spaces of North Texas. Nearing Atlanta the sky was overcast; it was looking quite grey to the east. We top a hill, round a curve and there before us in the distance is the city. We can see the tall buildings from the city center. I pointed it out and Cindy started crying. She explained that seeing the city in the distance made her realize how far away she was from the only home she had ever known.

This was my first inkling that Cindy and I were opposites. She wanted her home and family close, and I just wanted to be somewhere else, someplace of my own making and choosing.

I told the story at Cindy's memorial of her screaming and crying when I accidentally scared her with a kitchen knife. What I didn't tell was the reason behind her reaction, which she shared with me later that evening.

One time when Cindy was babysitting, I believe it was the summer before her junior year in high school, a group of men broke in to the house where she was babysitting. It was in Rockwall. She was upstairs in the master bedroom, on the phone with Ricky, and the baby was down the hall in another room, asleep in the crib. She thought she heard a noise downstairs and the next thing she knew, there was a man standing in the doorway of the bedroom. He had a knit cap on and a bushy beard. She screamed and dropped the phone. Other men came into the room. They pulled the phone out from the wall and tied her up on the bed. They left quickly, assuming that whoever was on the phone called the police.

The police eventually arrested the group responsible and Cindy, as a key witness, was asked to testify. This was very traumatic. She would see men in knit caps or with bushy beards and have a panic attack in the grocery store, at the mall, while driving. She had terrible tension headaches. This went on for months, causing her to miss a lot of school. She worked with a psychologist who taught her relaxation techniques to get the panic attacks and headaches under control. Part of the training was to go through the relaxation exercise while staring at a green dot, so I finally learned why she had a green dot sticker on her rearview mirror; it was her relaxation trigger.

She didn't like to tell the story, another difference between us, but it explained a lot.  Whenever we

moved to a new apartment or house it would take her a few weeks to get acclimated. During that time whenever we came home we would have to look in every room and closet and under every bed. She did not like to be home alone and would often delay leaving work to be sure I would be home when she arrived. She was always easily surprised and for all the time I knew her someone appearing unexpectedly in a doorway would nearly cause her to faint.

For me this was all very unexpected. Cindy was smart, strong, independent, capable. I never expected this kind of vulnerability. Seeing this side of Cindy became very important to me. I recognized a need I could fill. I knew I needed her, and I knew she would be an ideal partner for me, but I struggled with what I could do for her, and how or why she loved me. Over the next 35 years it was both the simplest and the hardest thing for me to do ... just to be there when she needed me.

We settled in and Cindy immediately started looking for a job. She had been told that she could work at Kraft Foodservice because I worked in the Retail division, but we both thought it would be good for her to do something other than Kraft. She starting doing temp work with an agency named Adia, and got placed in a 90 day assignment as an HR clerk for Ciba Vision. The now familiar pattern began to play out. She quickly became a favorite of managers for the quality and quantity of her work, and she began making friends and social plans.

Not long after she began working there, the FDA approved some sort of colored soft contact lenses that Ciba had developed. Business boomed and they hired her full time. She had the added perk of getting free non-prescription contact lenses and so choosing her eye color became part of her getting ready routine. My favorites were the green ones.

We grocery shopped carefully, carrying a calculator with us to be sure we didn't overdraw the checking account. We would go out with her friends from Ciba on Friday or Saturday night to comedy clubs and concerts when we had the money, or simply have dinner at their houses if we didn't. It wasn't long before I was tagging along on company outings, like rafting through Atlanta on the Chattahoochee, or taking in the laser light show at Stone Mountain. On weekends we would go exploring, heading up to the mountains north of Atlanta for community festivals and scenery, or finding new restaurants to try in Buckhead or downtown Atlanta.

Only a few weeks after the wedding I had a car wreck. It was my fault and, much to Cindy's surprise, I didn't have any insurance. We got a loan and took up payments on repairing the other driver's cars, and I drove the wrecked Monte Carlo for several months, getting in and out of the passenger door. In the summer we flew to Amarillo and drove back in my high school car, a 1956 Chevy named Bessie, which my brother Bill worked on to get running for us. As we were leaving Dad offered Cindy a dusty old 'Cool Cushion' from his truck, to help with vinyl seats in the summer. She declined, but I took it. About 60 miles into the trip she began to appreciate the wonders of the Cool Cushion and we stopped at an auto parts store to get her a new, clean one.

Darvis and Frances came for a visit, I think in the fall, and Frances tolerated me enough to let me

push her up a paved mountain trail. At one point we made an unplanned trip back to Dallas when Cindy's grandmother, Darvis' mother Rosa, died. Road trips to Texas typically involved leaving after work and driving all night, taking turns driving and talking to keep each other awake. One of my favorite things to do was discuss baby names. I'd swear that we would have to name our first son Rufus or some such and she would try to talk me out of it. I told her all my stories and she patiently listened, only occasionally reminding me that she'd heard that one before.

I distinctly remember being in our apartment for our first Christmas together. One of the things I learned that first year was that Christmas was soon to become a big deal - not necessarily for presents, but for all of the social, decorating and entertaining opportunities it offered. That first Christmas she gave me a list of things she would like to get as her present. I wrapped up several things that I had found for her in one big box for Christmas morning. Included in the box was her list. I bought none of those things, but instead wrote a note that said "Don't give me a list. I'm not a shopping service and besides, I might come up with something better!" She never gave me a gift list again, but always requested one from me.

The break-in story explained Cindy's ability to compartmentalize things and not carry things emotionally, which is both a strength and a weakness. It helped her to move forward in the most challenging of times, and to remain calm and confident as she did. She learned how to do that. It also prevented her from digging too deeply into anything, because doing so could make it harder to keep it in its place when necessary.

I learned a lot about and from Cindy in that first year plus in Atlanta. Looking back, living 'on our own' was one of the smarter, or perhaps luckier, things that happened. We built a healthy dependency on each other for managing a home and our lives, and we simply learned about each other directly, without the input of family and well-known friends. I became her confidant and someone she could depend on. She became my voice of reason and my proof and understanding of giving and receiving love.

In a strange way there is a lot of symmetry in how we began our marriage and how it ended. We were 'on our own' in Sugar Land, no friends or family around, for a little over a year. This past year plus has been all about moving forward in challenging times, shifting dependencies, taking time for honest discussions and most of all, continuing to learn about and try to understand each other while incorporating 35 years of shared experience.

It's how I knew not to share the cancer survival statistics when I researched triple negative breast cancer. I knew she wouldn't want to know. It's how she knew that sleeping in the recliner, sleeping separately for the first time in our married lives, would allow me some peace and practice at sleeping alone. When she wouldn't eat grilled cheese and tomato soup, I knew she was beyond miserable and her appetite was gone. When I got silent and sullen she knew when to leave me be, and when to draw me out for a talk.

In a strange way we had been preparing for this end for 35 years. I miss her terribly. I ache for her head on my shoulder, and the simplest peck of her lips. Those are gone, but I take great comfort in knowing that we loved each other and that we did our best. As imperfect as our actions might have been at times, because despite what the grief tells you no relationship is perfect, the love itself was true. What a gift. What a blessing. My prayer for you is that you experience truthful love in some way.

The Gift of Family Influences

As a teenager I spent a lot of time in my bedroom. I doodled. I read books. I rarely studied. I always listened to music. Sometimes on a cassette player that my sister Jennifer had given me for Christmas. Sometimes it was on a radio built to look like an old Rolls Royce. Jennifer probably gave that to me as a gift, too. At night I could pick up WBAP in Ft. Worth and WOAI in San Antonio. Sometimes it was on a "portable" record player, the kind where you stacked LPs or 45s on a spindle that dropped and played them. I'm pretty sure I inherited the record player, it seems like it was JCPenney or 'Monkey Wards' brand, from my brother Billy.


As for what kind of music, well, it depended. Albums and 45s cost money so if we had one around the house, it was most likely someone's property and you had to be careful about borrowing it. I was too cheap to splurge for albums so those were mostly my older siblings or occasionally Mom's, though I could only take so much of Floyd Cramer, Ferrante and Teicher, or Jim Nabors. I did spend money on singles, which cost about a dollar if I remember correctly. My musical tastes weren't very sophisticated ... I recall owning 'Snoopy vs. The Red Baron' by the Royal Guardsmen, 'Sugar, Sugar' by the Archies, 'The Night Chicago Died' by Paper Lace and 'Cherry Hill Park' by Billy Joe Royal. I'm guessing my Mother didn't pay much attention to Billy Joe Royal's lyrics or the record would have been tossed. Top 40 or Country was the only music available on the radio in the Panhandle, which probably accounts for the lack of taste in my 45 purchases.

I would like to claim some musical taste credit for The Beatles 'Hey Jude' that I bought off the 45RPM rack at Woolworth's (the B side was 'Revolution'), but the truth is I never heard the song before buying it. It was a Beatles single, so I assumed it was pretty cool, plus, the big, green apple on the label really grabbed my attention.

I was the only one in the house with the technology to play cassette tapes, and they were more expensive than albums. Blank cassette tapes were pretty cheap though, so I would buy them, record songs I liked from the radio and play them back later. The quality was terrible, though I didn't have much concept of audio quality at the time.

For Christmas this year the boy, who is 17, received a Tivoli Audio Music System. It's a high-quality, compact radio/CD/bluetooth music system and, as a bonus, it serves as an alarm clock. The purchase decision began with an initial question to myself, 'When I was 17, what would I have wished for at Christmas?' My son is much more musical than I ever was; he can play the saxophone and read music. My best (and only) musical instrument is the stereo. I thought it would be a good gift, but after I got it I began to worry that something was missing.

Growing up I remember fighting for control of the radio in the car with my sisters, who preferred pop songs, and my Mother, who preferred it off. I was the one who would not stick to a station. I'd punch out on the first notes of a song I disliked, bouncing around the dial to find something likable and familiar. I've confessed my early poor musical taste already, but even if it was bad, they were my choices and I spent a lot of time and energy listening to music and building opinions ... The Doors were too trippy, The Rolling Stones were too scary, The Monkees, though a secret pleasure, were much too popular to be publicly embraced. The boy doesn't seem to do that, though it's likely I'm just another clueless parent when it come to my son's habits. It's not that he doesn't know what's going on in the popular music scene, he just doesn't embrace it like I did, so after I bought the music system I wondered if he would really appreciate it.

Over the years I've often forced the boy to watch movies like 'Airplane' and 'The Outlaw Josey Wales' and 'The Godfather,' always claiming that he needed to see them for his cultural edification. I've spent a fair amount of time forcing him to listen to classic rock stations and asking 'who sings this?' He has three default answers ... ZZ Top if it's bluesy with a strong guitar, Tom Petty if it's lyrical and balanced, The Beatles if it sounds remotely like the singer could be British ... but I can tell his heart isn't in it. I've just about decided you can't force feed culture and frankly, I'm tired of classic rock; it makes me feel old. Nevertheless, it is incumbent upon me as a parent to provide some sort of cultural reference points and so, along with the Tivoli Audio Music System, I have compiled a set of two dozen or so CD's with the help of his aunts and uncles.

Below are the 'liner notes' I put together for him. It may have been a wasted effort, you can lead a horse to water and all that, but it was fun putting it together and they are all in my digital library now ... no more sneaking LPs from Nelda and Billy, yeah! The set consists of 5 CDs of songs from various artists that I remember hearing as a kid. I've divided them up by which one of my family members was responsible for introducing me to the music. The next 20+ CDs were recommendations from aunts and uncles who responded to the question 'What artist or album do you remember listening to when you were 18ish years old?' Some aunts and uncles ( Nelda, Neil ) could not follow instructions and gave me several suggestions, which is why there are 20+ CDs instead of 10 or so, but no matter, it's all good, and the exercise of compiling it all, making those family + music connections, was spiritually uplifting, convincing me, for the moment, that families are a gift (one that is sometimes difficult to accept, I admit!) and more than a happy (or unhappy) accident.

Grandpa Turner's CD:

Although Dad had quite a repertoire of songs for singing while driving, for me, anything and everything Bob Wills pretty much sums it up. I remember hearing a Bob Wills recording when I was in high school and thinking, "He wasn't just making up those songs!"  There are two copies of Milk Cow Blues, my favorite Bob Wills song. I prefer the one with lyrics to the instrumental but they are both true Panhandle white-boy soul.

I've also included a song by Lynn Anderson, (I Never Promised You a) Rose Garden. Dad had one 8-track tape. I think it was stuck in the tape player in one of the old Chevy's we had. When I hear that song I swear I can smell Panhandle dust and if I close my eyes I can see the landscape between Pampa and McLean. Rose Garden has memorable violins. Bob Wills played the fiddle.

track listing:

Milk Cow Blues Bob Wills

Bubbles In My Beer Bob Wills

Faded Love Bob Wills

Cadillac And A Model "A" Bob Wills

New San Antonio Rose Bob Wills

Bob's Breakdown Bob Wills

Time Changes Everything Bob Wills

Cherokee Maiden Bob Wills

Rose Garden Lynn Anderson

I Ain't Got Nobody Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys

Corrine Corrina Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys

Liebestraum Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys

Take Me Back to Tulsa Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys

Roly Poly Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys

Stay a Little Longer Bob Wills & His Texas Playboys

Milk Cow Blues Bob Wills

Grandma Turner's CD:

First and foremost, I learned to appreciate gospel music from Mom. Specifically, a capella gospel music. The two here were some of the most memorable, Love Lifted Me and Holy, Holy, Holy. I still remember Mr. Lusby, our preacher, walking along the outside aisles of the church auditorium and putting his finger to his lips in a polite 'shush' for certain church members who couldn't carry a tune in a bucket, as they say.

I think Mom liked Floyd Cramer and Boots Randolph simply for their playing style and musicianship, though I wouldn't be surprised if she liked them simply because they drove us crazy.

As for Patsy Cline, I think Mom secretly liked her music; I would catch her humming along. But for the record she tended to categorize her as troubled and probably not a good Christian woman. The songs I've included here are quite melancholy and it's the mood more than the lyrics that remind me of Mom.

Just as important as the music she listened to was the music she disapproved. If she didn't like it, I was intrigued. That's part of why I suspect she insisted on acts like Chet Atkins and Ray Coniff to annoy me, because I played music to annoy her. Like the radio, it was just a question of knowing which button to push.

I distinctly remember Mom discussing how The Beach Boys and 'Good Vibrations' was a signal for the beginning of the end for American culture. How we were headed for a society that would be consumed by their own pleasures, instead of by their obligations and responsibilities. I think she nailed that one.

I also remember her not knowing what to make of Norman Greenbaum and 'Spirit in the Sky.' He was a jewish guy with a gospel song, and it was not nearly respectful (traditional?) enough for her tastes, and definitely not a capella. When it came on the radio (KPUR, 1440 AM, Amarillo, TX) I would sing along, and she would quickly turn it off.

Jim Stafford's "Wildwood Weed" was one of those songs where Mom's reaction confused me. It was obviously about marijuana, yet she found it funny and didn't switch the station when it came on. Of course, later, when I was in high school, she asked me if I could ask one of my "druggie friends" for some marijuana seeds to feed her canaries ... she had heard it was good for their libido. Somehow I managed to come up with a tic-tac box full of seeds for her, but I don't think it helped her roosters much.

track listing:

Love Lifted Me Randy Travis

Holy, Holy, Holy No Other Name

Last Date Floyd Cramer

Help Me Make It Through the Night Floyd Cramer

Yakety Sax Boots Randolph

Charlie Brown Boots Randolph

Crazy Patsy Cline

I Fall To Pieces Patsy Cline

Good Vibrations The Beach Boys

Wildwood Weed Jim Stafford

Spirit in the Sky Norman Greenbaum

Aunt Jennifer's CD:

When I was in the 5th grade, Jennifer bought me a cassette tape player/recorder for Christmas. It came with some blank tapes and at some point during her time home at Christmas we went to Gibson's (the 1960's version of Walmart) and she bought me a pre-recorded cassette tape of The Beatles, Magical Mystery Tour. It was, perhaps. the first music of my very own and I wore it out. I loved it.

There are a few other songs I associate with Jennifer. 'Summer in the City' by the Lovin' Spoonful, because I remember hearing it when driving around Ft. Worth in what I thought was the hottest summer ever when visiting her. 'The Candy Man' by Sammy Davis, Jr., because one summer while visiting we could not get in the car without hearing that song. And 'We're Not Gonna Take It' from The Who ... because she used 'Tommy' in one of the high school English classes she taught and I remember thinking how cool it would be to have teachers like her. And 'A Boy Named Sue' by Johnny Cash ... though to be honest, I actually associate it more with Dan, though I'm not sure why.

track listing:

Magical Mystery Tour The Beatles

The Fool On the Hill The Beatles

Flying The Beatles

Blue Jay Way The Beatles

Your Mother Should Know The Beatles

I Am the Walrus The Beatles

Hello, Goodbye The Beatles

Strawberry Fields Forever The Beatles

Penny Lane The Beatles

Baby, You're a Rich Man The Beatles

All You Need Is Love The Beatles

Summer In The City The Lovin' Spoonful

A Boy Named Sue Johnny Cash

The Candy Man Sammy Davis, Jr.

We're Not Gonna Take It The Who

Uncle Billy's CD:

Billy and I shared a room for a while. I slept on the top bunk. He had a record player where you could stack albums on a spindle and they would play one after the other. These are some of the artists and songs I remember:

Johnny Horton (The Battle of New Orleans, Sink the Bismarck) was, I guess, country, but I just liked the stories the songs told.

Shelley Berman and Bill Cosby were my first exposure to traditional 'stand-up' comedy. I listened to these so often I could repeat the gags with perfect timing, which truly helped me appreciate the difficulty of that talent.

Bobby Vinton's 'Blue Velvet' and 'Mr. Lonely' were such sad songs. I often wondered why someone would bother writing a sad song and, of course later, when I got to be a teenager and had some heartbreaks, I understood perfectly.

Lesley Gore (Sunshine, Lollipops And Rainbows) helped me to appreciate the power of a good hook and singable pop ... even though the lyrics were silly. Billy had a white Ford Falcon with an 8-track tape player and this was one of the tapes he had.

The Beach Boys were iconic. Cool dudes. Back then, California was exotic and the ultimate cool place. It was only later that I began to appreciate the musicianship and marketing power of these songs and this group.

The Four Seasons were everywhere. I loved singing along with their Greatest Hits album ... I was probably all of 8 years old and had an awesome falsetto.

I used to sing every song on the Roger Miller's Greatest Hits album. I loved them all. Twangy, funny, catchy.

I distinctly remember Carly Simon singing You're So Vain on the radio as Billy was driving us back from Perryton , from a basketball or football game most likely. It was snowing and Billy made some comment about being careful not to make songwriter girlfriends angry. I wonder if Taylor Swift takes her vengeful song formula from Carly Simon.

The Herb Alpert songs were much later. I remember playing them on his stereo when baby sitting Tami and Cheri.

The first time I heard the Allman Brother's "Ramblin' Man" was on a 45 RPM single that Billy bought. It always seemed so wistful.

I was probably 15 when I heard Steve Miller's "The Joker" for the first time. I loved the song, and was absolutely shocked that my "old" brother had the album. I loved the album cover, too.

track listing:

The Battle Of New Orleans Johnny Horton

Sink The Bismarck Johnny Horton

Cleans And Dirtys Shelley Berman

Shop Bill Cosby

Blue Velvet Bobby Vinton

Mr. Lonely Bobby Vinton

Sunshine, Lollipops And Rainbows Lesley Gore

Little Deuce Coupe The Beach Boys

Help Me, Rhonda The Beach Boys

Walk Like A Man Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

Sherry Frankie Valli & The Four Seasons

King Of The Road Roger Miller

You're So Vain   Carly Simon

Tijuana Taxi Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

Spanish Flea Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

A Taste Of Honey Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass

Ramblin' Man The Allman Brothers Band

The Joker Steve Miller Band

Aunt Nelda's CD:

At some point Mom bought us a record player/radio that was built into a coffee table. We had a few albums and adding to the collection was always something special. We had some TERRIBLE albums like Bloodrock and Zager & Evans (that's what they get for letting the little kid pick the music), but we had some great ones, too. I associate most of these with Nelda, because she was always hogging the stereo, but a couple of these remind me more of Loretta. I don't really have a good reason for it, other than we argued a lot over what to play and a lot of our time growing up consisted of arguing over who got what, from the last soda pop in the fridge to what TV show to watch to whose record got played.

In any case, I associate The Grass Roots, Neil Diamond and Simon & Garfunkel with Nelda. The James Gang and Jefferson Airplane seem more like Loretta songs. It's probably not fair to call these the Aunt Nelda tracks, but I didn't want to break them up separately.

The Stylistics were definitely Nelda songs. I remember her singing along with them, a LOT.

Some of the other songs on this set are from a later era, when Nelda was in high school or off to college. The Rod Stewart songs were definitely high school. she used to borrow Billy's green Pontiac Lemans to drive her friends to basketball games and what-not. I remember riding with her and her friends and listening to Maggie May on the 8-track. I also remember having a huge crush on Annette Keeton (?), one of her friends, but that is a topic for another day. The Eagles songs were definitely from her early college days, as were the Willie Nelson, Jerry Jeff Walker and Emmylou Harris songs ... 'outlaw country' was very cool at that time.

track listing:

Midnight Confessions The Grass Roots

Temptation Eyes The Grass Roots

Funk #49 The James Gang

Done Too Soon Neil Diamond

I Am The Lion Neil Diamond

Betcha By Golly, Wow The Stylistics

You Are Everything The Stylistics

Somebody To Love Jefferson Airplane

White Rabbit Jefferson Airplane

Cecilia Simon & Garfunkel

The Boxer Simon & Garfunkel

Maggie May Rod Stewart

(I Know) I'm Losing You Rod Stewart

You Wear It Well Rod Stewart

Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain Willie Nelson

C'est La Vie Emmylou Harris

Two More Bottles Of Wine Emmylou Harris

L.A. Freeway Jerry Jeff Walker

London Homesick Blues Jerry Jeff Walker

The artists and album listing from aunts and uncles were:

The Everly Brothers - 1964 - Aunt Jennifer

I don't recall ever sitting and listening to The Everly Brothers, however, I'm familiar with all of their songs so they must have been part of the cultural sound track. Tight harmonies and manic (acoustic) guitar playing continues to be a formula that works.

Creedence Clearwater Revival - Chronicle 1968-1972 - Uncle Billy

I remember seeing them on variety TV shows. I specifically remember them being Eddie Brown's favorite band in the 7th grade at Pampa Junior High.

Jim Croce - Photographs & Memories - 1975 - Aunt Loretta

One of the first singer/songwriters that I latched on to. I liked the stories, the simple melodies, the hooks, the comedy of the lyrics. One of the more notable early musician deaths while I was growing up.

Steely Dan - Can't Buy a Thrill - 1972 - Aunt Nelda (and me)

Sometime in high school Nelda went on a date with some guy (probably named David - they were all named David). The poor girl had to share a bedroom with her little brother and many times she would come home from a date and tell me the good things, the bad things, what she thought he did that was cool or nice and what he did that was not. On this particular occasion she came home raving about some music he played that she had not heard. It was Steely Dan - Can't Buy A Thrill and she promptly went out and bought the album. I listened to it endlessly and became a Steely Dan fan.

Seals & Crofts - Diamond Girl - 1973 - Aunt Nelda (and me)

I loved this album cover. I thought the songs were too sentimental and I didn't really "get" them, but they were catchy and they had a certain hazy, feel good mood about them. I remember reading the lyrics in the liner notes trying to figure out what the story was behind the songs and finally giving up and just enjoying the light, care-free sort of vibe they put off. I also stole a few of the lyrics and structure for some poetry assignments at school.

Elton John - Greatest Hits - 1974 - Aunt Nelda and Uncle Steve (yes,really.)

I remember thinking it was pretty cocky of Elton John to release a greatest hits album so early in his career ... and then I realized that his music had consistently been played for 5 years straight, with major hit albums each year. I was much more a fan of 'Rocket Man' and 'Daniel' than I was the peppy 'Bennie and the Jets' or 'Saturday Night's Alright for Fighting'. They seemed to be trying too hard ... but it worked.

ZZ Top - Rio Grande Mud - 1972 - me

This album was a major player in my group of friends ( Walter Tyler, Don White, Paul Stewart, James Miller come to mind) in my high school days even though the album
came out well before we were in high school. It was gritty and funky and obscure enough to have missed top 40 air play. The biggest hit on the album, 'Francine', topped out at #69 on the pop charts. Aside from being a major sound track for all our social activities, it also taught me about blues and grit and that there was Texas music beyond country. 

Aerosmith - Toys in The Attic - 1975 - me

I was an early adopter of this album, I'm sure it was one of the '10 tapes for 1 cent!' offer from Columbia Record Club, and I went through two copies of the cassette tape between high school and college. I thought the album flowed well, that the songs led into each other properly and rarely skipped tracks to get to a better song. I thought the album title was genius, too - almost no one knew it was a reference to being crazy. I saw Aerosmith in concert once, and after that, I was no longer a fan. I must have been past the point where showmanship was more important than the music.

Fleetwood Mac - Rumours - 1977 - Your Mom

This album had something for everyone, too. And it seemed to be on the charts forever. It was so popular that I never actually purchased it. I think many people were drawn to the band and the music by the personalities as much as the music. My favorite song on this album was 'The Chain.'

Eagles - Hotel California - 1977 - Uncle Rodney

NOTE: It's 'Eagles' not 'The Eagles.' ;-) This was probably the consensus soundtrack for my senior year in high school. Everyone had it. Everyone loved it. It was compelling, not just because you could depend on the Eagles for great singing and tight musicianship, but because everyone thought the songs were speaking to them and that there must have been some deeper mystical meaning. Not a bad track on the album. My favorite was Victim of Love ("V.O.L. Is Five Piece Live" - google it).

Tom Petty - Damn the Torpedos - 1979 - me

There was a big record store near Preston and LBJ called Sound Warehouse. There was also a Sound Warehouse in Denton but to buy concert tickets we would get up early, drive to Dallas and stand in line at the big store because they had better seats and more tickets. We went to get tickets, I think for the Dan Fogelberg concert (not included here but if you want to check him out his album 'Netherlands' made me a fan). The line for tickets went up and down a few aisles. I saw a poster for the Damn the Torpedos album. A very attractive young lady pointed at the poster and said "this may be the best album of my lifetime." I was sold. She quite possibly could have been right. Loved it. Tom Petty fan for life.

Dire Straits - Dire Straits - 1978 - me

The first hit off this album, Sultans of Swing, really made an impression. I was going to school at UNT (NTSU), surrounded by music majors and had just become exposed to jazz/swing for the first time. This seemed like such a musically serious group and the album fit right in with where I was living. Definitely album rock, not Top 40.

Steely Dan - Aja - 1977 - me

I was already a committed Steely Dan fan long before Aja came out. I bought the cassette tape and loved every track on the first listen. My biggest memory regarding this album was when I was in college at UNT. In the Student Union building there was a 'quiet lounge' called the Avesta Lounge. You could go in there, hand the student at the desk you student ID and 'check out' an album. They would put it on the turntable and hand you a headset and say 'tune to channel 12' or somesuch. They had big cushy chairs, professional playback equipment and an enormous selection. You plugged the headset into a jack near your seat and turned a knob to the appropriate channel. I remember reading and studying in there with Aja playing quite often. Instead of requesting a new album when it ended I would tell the DJ "just let it play."

Kenny Rogers - Number Ones - 1977-1983 - Aunt Melissa

This was an Aunt Melissa suggestion and I have to say that I was never a Kenny Rogers fan. I take that back. I liked him when he was with The First Edition. That's not to say I don't appreciate his success. You don't have that many hits without a whole lot of people liking you. I hesitated on including it because Kenny Rogers was pretty much the opposite of the whole 'outlaw country' stuff that I liked. In a way he's not unlike Eagles or Fleetwood Mac. They were all very mainstream and popular.

Genesis - Genesis - 1983 - Aunt Christina

The first Genesis album I listened to and liked was Abacab; I really liked the title track and 'No Reply At All' which had a nice pop/soul feel. This was Aunt Christina's recommendation so we are creeping out of my era. I liked this album and was a big fan of Phil Collins and earlier Genesis, which included Peter Gabriel, another favorite worth checking out. The songs on this album have a lot of staying power and it had signature 1980's musical production values.

Journey - Frontier - 1983 - Aunt Christina

It would have been simple enough to include a greatest hits album for Journey. They have a ton. Steve Perry might have been the best rock 'n roll lead singer in a couple of generations. What I liked most about his singing was that he didn't sing around the notes, he just hit them. Usually hard. Made for radio hit singles are not easy to do consistently, and these guys did. I never owned this album, but I think it was their best. 

WHAM! - Make It Big - 1984 - Aunt Carol

This was suggested by Aunt Carol, and though it would be easy to give her a hard time about this choice given all the weirdness of George Michael, I don't think there is any question that these guys (?) were influential. There's a place in this world for danceable pop.

David + David - Boomtown - 1986 - Uncle Neil

This was suggested by Uncle Neil and strangely enough, I actually owned this one, too though I wasn't a big music consumer at the time. The title track sold me and I have to admit that I never listened too closely to the rest of the album. I assume Neil did.

World Party - Private Revolution - 1986 - Uncle Neil

You will have to consult Uncle Neil on this one. I remember one song on this album, Ship of Fools, but didn't own it and I'm not familiar.

Dwight Yoakum - Hillbilly Deluxe - 1987 - Uncle Neil

I knew Neil was a big fan. I was, too. I thought this album was perfectly conceived, from the title to the
cover art to the music. I always got the impression that Dwight Yoakum was acting a part and today he is as well known for his acting as his music. Not an easy feat to be successful in two artistic arenas.

INXS - Kick - 1987 - Uncle Neil

I liked this band and this album. I thought they had a unique sound and I liked their energy. Another one of Uncle Neil's recommendations that we agree on.

R.E.M. - Green - 1988 - Uncle Neil

One of the first things I heard about R.E.M. was that they were from Athens, GA, home of of the University of Georgia. After living in Atlanta I was under the impression that Athens only had rednecks and jocks. A very influential band. This album set the stage for a string of top selling albums.

Living Colour - Vivid - 1988 - Uncle Neil

I actually bought this one as well. The band made an impression on me on MTV ... I have to admit I was shocked to see that this band, which sounded much more metal than Motown, consisted of a bunch of black musicians. I was also in awe of their musicianship.