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Present-day Actions, Future Consequences

6 Apr

Present-day Choices and Future Consequences

 

– Calvin Bowden Mar. 30, 2015

 

Upon reading about, and viewing, the senseless violence being committed against humans by humans, acts prompted by man’s unbridled greed and lust, and the acceptance and promotion of human behavior that violates the laws of nature and moral rules for living taught by all religions, I’m reminded of the old popular song composed by Charles K. Harris, “After the Ball”.

The song explores the fate of people who have reached the heights of human exhilaration and joy at an event, but following the party, must face the consequences of some bad choices they have made. The last time I heard the song was in a re-run of the movie, “Lillian Russell”.

As I have witnessed the changes in laws governing human behavior being forced upon us by new statutes and court rulings, I’m reminded of something else: the adage that reads, “The squeaking wheel always gets the grease.”.

In our haste to be politically correct, however, the marchers, protesters and politicians who can be frightened by a straw’s shadow, seem to have forgotten that people are not made of steel. They apparently have also chosen not to believe that some basic rules for living should not be ignored, lest we find ourselves falling to our demise off a high cliff like a herd of wild buffalos being chased by hungry people who love buffalo steaks. But as we are not steel, we also are not buffalos, although the herd mentality seems to be in high fashion in recent decades.

No man or woman who has lived through lots of winters, and has worked so many years at a job that makes him, or her, imminently aware of the complexities of human behavior, can forget or deny what he has witnessed first hand. Nor can he, or she, refuse to anticipate the possible consequences of bad choices and defiance of basic rules of acceptable behavior. But the thundering sounds of frightened buffalos are drowning out all appeals of those who dare challenge the madding crowd. No one with the power and influence to restore wisdom and tranquility to the governing process dares interfere, or forecast the possible social consequences of out runaway reformation.

 

 

 

 

Present-day Choices and Future Consequences

 

– Calvin Bowden Mar. 30, 2015

 

Upon reading about, and viewing, the senseless violence being committed against humans by humans, acts prompted by man’s unbridled greed and lust, and the acceptance and promotion of human behavior that violates the laws of nature and moral rules for living taught by all religions, I’m reminded of the old popular song composed by Charles K. Harris, “After the Ball”.

The song explores the fate of people who have reached the heights of human exhilaration and joy at an event, but following the party, must face the consequences of some bad choices they have made. The last time I heard the song was in a re-run of the movie, “Lillian Russell”.

As I have witnessed the changes in laws governing human behavior being forced upon us by new statutes and court rulings, I’m reminded of something else: the adage that reads, “The squeaking wheel always gets the grease.”.

In our haste to be politically correct, however, the marchers, protesters and politicians who can be frightened by a straw’s shadow, seem to have forgotten that people are not made of steel. They apparently have also chosen not to believe that some basic rules for living should not be ignored, lest we find ourselves falling to our demise off a high cliff like a herd of wild buffalos being chased by hungry people who love buffalo steaks. But as we are not steel, we also are not buffalos, although the herd mentality seems to be in high fashion in recent decades.

No man or woman who has lived through lots of winters, and has worked so many years at a job that makes him, or her, imminently aware of the complexities of human behavior, can forget or deny what he has witnessed first hand. Nor can he, or she, refuse to anticipate the possible consequences of bad choices and defiance of basic rules of acceptable behavior. But the thundering sounds of frightened buffalos are drowning out all appeals of those who dare challenge the madding crowd. No one with the power and influence to restore wisdom and tranquility to the governing process dares interfere, or forecast the possible social consequences of out runaway reformation.

 

 

 

 

Present-day Choices and Future Consequences

 

– Calvin Bowden Mar. 30, 2015

 

Upon reading about, and viewing, the senseless violence being committed against humans by humans, acts prompted by man’s unbridled greed and lust, and the acceptance and promotion of human behavior that violates the laws of nature and moral rules for living taught by all religions, I’m reminded of the old popular song composed by Charles K. Harris, “After the Ball”.

The song explores the fate of people who have reached the heights of human exhilaration and joy at an event, but following the party, must face the consequences of some bad choices they have made. The last time I heard the song was in a re-run of the movie, “Lillian Russell”.

As I have witnessed the changes in laws governing human behavior being forced upon us by new statutes and court rulings, I’m reminded of something else: the adage that reads, “The squeaking wheel always gets the grease.”.

In our haste to be politically correct, however, the marchers, protesters and politicians who can be frightened by a straw’s shadow, seem to have forgotten that people are not made of steel. They apparently have also chosen not to believe that some basic rules for living should not be ignored, lest we find ourselves falling to our demise off a high cliff like a herd of wild buffalos being chased by hungry people who love buffalo steaks. But as we are not steel, we also are not buffalos, although the herd mentality seems to be in high fashion in recent decades.

No man or woman who has lived through lots of winters, and has worked so many years at a job that makes him, or her, imminently aware of the complexities of human behavior, can forget or deny what he has witnessed first hand. Nor can he, or she, refuse to anticipate the possible consequences of bad choices and defiance of basic rules of acceptable behavior. But the thundering sounds of frightened buffalos are drowning out all appeals of those who dare challenge the madding crowd. No one with the power and influence to restore wisdom and tranquility to the governing process dares interfere, or forecast the possible social consequences of out runaway reformation.

 

 

 

 

Present-day Choices and Future Consequences

– Calvin Bowden Mar. 30, 2015

Upon reading about, and viewing, the senseless violence being committed against humans by humans, acts prompted by man’s unbridled greed and lust, and the acceptance and promotion of human behavior that violates the laws of nature and moral rules for living taught by all religions, I’m reminded of the old popular song composed by Charles K. Harris, “After the Ball”.
The song explores the fate of people who have reached the heights of human exhilaration and joy at an event, but following the party, must face the consequences of some bad choices they have made. The last time I heard the song was in a re-run of the movie, “Lillian Russell”.
As I have witnessed the changes in laws governing human behavior being forced upon us by new statutes and court rulings, I’m reminded of something else: the adage that reads, “The squeaking wheel always gets the grease.”.
In our haste to be politically correct, however, the marchers, protesters and politicians who can be frightened by a straw’s shadow, seem to have forgotten that people are not made of steel. They apparently have also chosen not to believe that some basic rules for living should not be ignored, lest we find ourselves falling to our demise off a high cliff like a herd of wild buffalos being chased by hungry people who love buffalo steaks. But as we are not steel, we also are not buffalos, although the herd mentality seems to be in high fashion in recent decades.
No man or woman who has lived through lots of winters, and has worked so many years at a job that makes him, or her, imminently aware of the complexities of human behavior, can forget or deny what he has witnessed first hand. Nor can he, or she, refuse to anticipate the possible consequences of bad choices and defiance of basic rules of acceptable behavior. But the thundering sounds of frightened buffalos are drowning out all appeals of those who dare challenge the madding crowd. No one with the power and influence to restore wisdom and tranquility to the governing process dares interfere, or forecast the possible social consequences of out runaway reformation.

Present-day Choices and Future Consequences

– Calvin Bowden Mar. 30, 2015

Upon reading about, and viewing, the senseless violence being committed against humans by humans, acts prompted by man’s unbridled greed and lust, and the acceptance and promotion of human behavior that violates the laws of nature and moral rules for living taught by all religions, I’m reminded of the old popular song composed by Charles K. Harris, “After the Ball”.
The song explores the fate of people who have reached the heights of human exhilaration and joy at an event, but following the party, must face the consequences of some bad choices they have made. The last time I heard the song was in a re-run of the movie, “Lillian Russell”.
As I have witnessed the changes in laws governing human behavior being forced upon us by new statutes and court rulings, I’m reminded of something else: the adage that reads, “The squeaking wheel always gets the grease.”.
In our haste to be politically correct, however, the marchers, protesters and politicians who can be frightened by a straw’s shadow, seem to have forgotten that people are not made of steel. They apparently have also chosen not to believe that some basic rules for living should not be ignored, lest we find ourselves falling to our demise off a high cliff like a herd of wild buffalos being chased by hungry people who love buffalo steaks. But as we are not steel, we also are not buffalos, although the herd mentality seems to be in high fashion in recent decades.
No man or woman who has lived through lots of winters, and has worked so many years at a job that makes him, or her, imminently aware of the complexities of human behavior, can forget or deny what he has witnessed first hand. Nor can he, or she, refuse to anticipate the possible consequences of bad choices and defiance of basic rules of acceptable behavior. But the thundering sounds of frightened buffalo are drowning out all appeals of those who dare challenge the madding crowd. No one with the power and influence to restore wisdom and tranquility to the governing process dares interfere, or forecast the possible social consequences of out runaway reformation.

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Things Husbands Shouldn’t Do

20 Jan

Things Husbands Should Not Do

 

 

After partially recovering from the hazards of accompanying my wife on a recent “brief” grocery shopping trip and giving much thought to the matter, I’m convinced there should be a law forbidding husbands from going grocery shopping with their spouses. This conclusion is based on facts which I believe no reasonable man will challenge.

Number one on the list of reasons is the fact that shopping habits of men and women are totally different, and to impose those of either upon the other causes considerable damage to nerves and ability to be patient, a desirable commodity rarely found in husbands under the most favorable circumstances. Rating second, in my view, is that the practice causes an erosion of beautiful, romantic notions that may have survived those years of struggle following a happy honeymoon. Beauty of any kind at any age makes life better. (Esc use my being idealistic and practical in the same essay; the two are seldom compatible)

Have you ever waited outside in a car on a hot August day while your wife went on “short” shipping trip into a grocery store? A “short” trip takes at least one to one and on-half hours. Heaven forbid if you have to wait on her while she goes on her “regular” grocery shopping tour, because they last for about three hours, and often interfere with the husband’s bathroom habits. The birds might be singing in a tree on the parking lot, but cannot be heard above the screaming calls of nature. Whether it’s hot enough to fry eggs on the hood of your car, or cold enough to form icicles on your nose, it’s out of your control, because your wife took the car keys with her because the store’s discount card is on the key chain.

The t temperature during the wait, however, is not the main hindrance. It’s the wear and tear on a man’s nerves and   his efforts to be patient in all his husbandly functions. But how long does it take to pick up a dozen grocery items, check out and return the car? It took Columbus only three weeks to sail half way around the world in a small, leaky boat. Waiting places a terrible strain on any relationship into which any man sail his boat.

Loving wives, however, are not only pleasant and desirous of pleasing most of the time, but are blessed with the patience of Job. That admirable character trait is said to be the main reason they can stay married to a man for so many years. I don’t know why that thought came to mind when I’m writing about wives’ shopping habits, but it just tumbled out. Perhaps it’s because, deep down, I believe the patient gene is a factor in their prolonged shopping habits.

You husbands have probably noticed that your ladies like to move unhurried through a store to look, touch and think. It’s called “shopping”. No matter if they don’t need any of the items they look at and examine. They will, of course, eventually pick up what they need and saunter over to the checkout line. A man, on the other hand, knows what he wants, so grabs it and dashes to the checkout counter. Zip, boom, gone. Such a thing is foreign to a lady’s nature, and the sooner a husband accepts this as fact, the sooner he’ll minimize the threats to his physical and mental health and add years to his life expectancy.

So now you know what a man should not do in addition to working off ladders and not using chain saws.

Thanks & Questions for Taxpayers

12 Dec

Thanks and Questions for Taxpayers,essay, Dec. ’14

Porch Therapy

5 Jun

 

                        Porch Therapy

                 

 

            Last week, while you were basking in a shower of pine pollen, I was undergoing back porch therapy in  South Texas deer country in an effort to overcome the incessant word bombardment of TV commentators and other “experts” who appear to be dedicated to the downfall of all previously held views having to do with moral values and adherence to the natural order of things. If you’ve been around as many winters as I have, you too may have an aversion to being pushed into believing that anything a large number of people want to do should be accepted by all, and all of us, when squirted from the social formatting  machine should be the same, lie peas in a pod.

            Back porch therapy  is most effective, rating as high as sitting on a screened-in back porch watching it rain. You might want to try it sometime if  you can tear  yourself away from the boob tube.

            This type of therapy  involved my sitting in a comfortable chair drinking coffee on the back porch of our daughter’s and son in law’s ranch home while watching wild turkeys stroll leisurely across the yard,  occasionally stopping to eat grain that had fallen from Diana’s bird feeders. There were other turkeys just beyond the yard fence, as well as white tail deer witch were most likely to appear early and late. Both the deer and the turkeys appear without enticement, but the corn scattered on the tank road  no doubt contributes to their daily visits in such large numbers.

            The toms’ source of masculine pride, their  beards, hung within two inches of the ground, but their beauty was best displayed by heir wide, colorful fan-like tail feathers when they spread them, which they often did with an accompanying loud gobble. They usually moved about in small groups of four to six, separate from the hens this time of year. The younger jakes were present as well, but their short beards didn’t give them bragging rights. And I don’t recall seeing one spreading its tail feathers like the toms.  Both, however, like the hens, could boast of the effervescent quality of their feathers when struck by the sun’s rays.

            Some might not think of the turkey as being one of the most intelligent members of the animal world, but they have been seeing doing one thing that proves that they are not stupid either. They do this by moving under the corn distributor attached to the bumper or Jack’s truck and jumping up to peck the corn release lever. The continue doing this until they get all the corn they want. They also posses a keen eyesight and ability to run faster than a dog when they choose running over flying. But watching them watching me brought a question to mind that some of you turkey experts might be able to answer. When a turkey turns his head sideways to give me a close look, does he close its other eye so it won’t see two images? 

            In spite of questions prompted by the behavior of nature’s critters and remembrances of man’s folly regarding rules to live by, I found porch therapy well worth the long drive.

                

Life Ai’t no Saturday Night Counry Musical

4 Mar

Life Ain’t no Saturday Night Country Musical*   There are times in a man’s life after the shadows have grown long, when he discovers life is not all wine, women and song, but more like walking barefooted under a chinquapin tree. This is made more apparent when he sees the growing number of empty chairs at morning coffees and his Sunday school class. Excuse my poor grammar in the title of this offering, but some words just don’t ring the bell n that tells those on the playing field that recess is over and time to think about something besides fun and frolic. Using correct English is best for most occasions, but if it is too proper, it’s about as effective in getting people’s attention as throwing a pair of rolled-up socks at the school bell. No man, however unimportant he may be to political power brokers and bankers, wants to be ignored if he believes he has something to say that’s a wee bit more important than dry water well in Death Valley. When a man discovers the winters have piled up on him, he’s likely to also find out that his priorities have changed. It is at that time when it appears the events in his life are running past him faster than boards in a picket fence when he drives by them. And adding to his problems is the fact that there are no brakes on his golden carriage and no side exits. Where once he thought time was passing so slowly he would never be old enough to get his driver’s license, he now finds himself wishing he could nail the calendar to the wall and stop the clock. Where did the time go? How did he get here so fast? Why did he spend so much time doing dumb things? Why didn’t he tell his mother and dad and all the old folks that he loved them? But the dye has been cast, the end product turned out, impossible to change. In too many cases, nothing can be undone or re-done.  The ship has sailed, the wind is strong, and there’s no anchor. If he’s lucky, a little voice might say in his ear, “Don’t be so morbid. Do you think you’re the only person in the boat you’re in? Cheer up! Think of the only alternative to getting old. Remember all the good, happy things you’ve been a part of. Most of all, think of your loving family, those healthy, happy children who would not have been here had it not been for you (and your loving wife). The poorest of men are made whole by that accomplishment alone. “Think of those who were not so fortunate to have lived so long, their lives cut short by illness, senseless wars or a drunken driver on the highway. Perhaps there’s no physical proof about what happens to a man, other than returning to dust when his choo-choo jumps the rail and falls into that bottomless pit; h; but there is always hope that there is more to come. No man is so tough that he should be ashamed to admit he has faith in there being something beyond his capacity to understand or explain. Things are too well made to have come about by accident, or to have been made by mere man.” If buoyed up by such positive thoughts, a man who has crossed many bridges might decide it’s is no time to mope and moan. Didn’t he do the best he could with the know-how and resources he had at any given time? It’s time now to celebrate still being here, and for doing so many things right. So, strike up the band! Ring the bells and let the good times roll! Pt the sausage on the grill and your favorite beverages in the cooler! Shout Happy New Year! Merry Christmas! Happy Valentine’s Day and all the other days not named! And most of all, Happy next Birthday, Mr. Lucky! *Title from dialog in Bowden’s novel, Voices from a Far Field

Run for Cover

20 Jan

Run for Cover

For a town that’s supposed to have everything, I’d like to respectfully mention a couple of items the promoters forgot, one of which poses a serious challenge to a Texas tradition: the wearing of hats. In years past, no self-respecting Texan would step outside his house without putting on one. If the man of the house heard a cougar scream in his front yard, he’d put on his hat before grabbing his gun on his way to the door. As we would not go outside our homes without shoes, we likewise would not step out without head cover.

Someone smarter than I will have to do the research that would explain the origin of the custom. I really don’t care to know the why of it. Knowing that’s the way is, and being comfortable with it sufficient. It might have something to do with the fact that our heads contain our brains, that part of our bodies that responsible individuals use occasionally for the betterment of themselves and all humanity.

The history of hats, however, is not the point I want to emphasize. I merely want to point out the fact that there are no places in many of our town’s businesses to hang a hat. In this age of affluence, it is a puzzling development.

Why do you think there are no hat racks or hooks in local businesses? Granted, not as many men wear noggin covers these days, no matter how cold it is or how hot the sun. Could it be because most of those who wear hats or caps eat with their hats on? Shameful.  Perhaps it’s due to the chicken and egg thing: Which came first, the absence of hat racks, or the custom of not wearing hats?

Excuse me for not being up to date with new social fads, but I’m not comfortable eating with my hat on. It stirs an inner revulsion, born of teachings during my early life about manners and appreciation for food, before people had enough of every thing to throw some of it away.  Do any of you remember ever going to the table with your hat on, and what happened if you did? Forbidding the practice is just another one of those moral inhibitions that have kept most of us on the straight and narrow, so don’t knock it.

Aside from early teachings and modern custom, many men might not have a sound reason for not wearing a hat or cap (a cap is not a hat) in the hot sun or on frigid winter days, but I have one, I’m sorry to say. I am deprived of the wooly turf with which the young are blessed. So, even if I didn’t have other reasons, I would be compelled to wear a hat. Not for vanity’s sake, but for comfort and protection. If vanity played a part in the practice, I would hide my baldness in public places. If I did that, there would be less discomfort to fellow patrons who otherwise have to suffer the glare of house lights off my senior light reflector. Perhaps that’s why some business patrons wear sun glasses indoors. I offer my sincere apologies to all those who suffer such a cruel fate.

While I’m writing about something I have found lacking in the public places we have patronized, I’d like to mention one more thing I have not found. It is such a common thing; some might not consider it worth mentioning. It is the peanut, parched and warm, snugly packed into a little brown paper sack. Spanish peanuts like tone ones East Texas farmers grew for food and profit. During the hard, Great Depression years they were sold for a nickel a sack on the red brick streets of our town. No more, but I don’t know why. Those canned goobers available in stores are not the same. And that’s not nostalgia talking; it’s a true statement based on hard facts.

If I haven’t ventured out from my comfort zone long enough to discover these things I have missed, I offer my apologies to those I may have offended by my shortcoming. But I still like parched peanuts, and I prefer hanging my hat on a hook to placing it on the floor.

Deer Country for Fun and Meditation

5 Nov

Deer Country for Fun and Meditation

Sunset at deer blind 2006

Some writer once said you can’t go home again. He didn’t say you can’t go back to deer country. It’s the place where I’ve spent many hours over the years in my No Owls Inn with binoculars and scoped .243 Remington, thinking, listening and watching. And since comfort has become dominant in my senior years, I placed a comfortable, folding boat seat in my blind, mounting it on a revolving metal post attached to two crossed two by fours with rollers. And since no respectable throne for shooting would be complete without a gun rest, I attached one to the wall next to my boat seat. It’s nothing but a hinged 2 X 2 which swings up and held in a horizontal position by a diagonal brace resting on a small block on the plywood wall. On the end of the horizontal rest I place padding to eliminate noise and prevent light reflection. A workable ct do -it-yourself butt rest.

On some occasions in the past while perched on that soft seat, I merely sat and silently observed nature’s display through windows. There were does and small deer, buzzing bees, low-flying hawks, crows and other birds, an occasional coyote and, less often, a red fox. Hogs seldom venture out during daylight hours, so I never spotted one. Ranch rules require hunters to kill all hogs. That’s because they are so many, and they do severe damage to pasture lands. The highlight of my vigil during my no-shooting hunts, was watching the setting sun. The lower it sank, the easier it was to look at it, causing me to again wonder why one can look at it when setting, but not while it is overhead when, theoretically,  it’s the same distance from the viewer.

The lower it sank the redder it became and the faster it fell. One can almost see it move. Viewing such a powerful and vital thing to life is always a memorable awesome experience.

When the top of the sun sank to the tops of the trees on the distant horizon, it was time to climb out and down and head out for the house where I would be greeted by loving faces, exciting tales about everybody’s hunt, cold beverages and a supper of Mexican food or grilled brisket.

The day’s hunt was over, and no one had any concerns about the sun not rising anew the next morning when everyone would again be perched in their blinds, waiting and hoping. The sun’s return to create a new day is one of nature’s creations critical to life for all, both the good and the bad. Viewing the miracle might make one wonder how anyone can doubt the presence of a supreme, universal power that holds sway over all things, the naming of which is your choice.