Mama Rusty opened the back door and let a couple local urchins in. "These girls want their HEY RANGER! book." "Cain't have it." "And why not?" "My camera's upstairs." "Go get it." I hobbled barefooted across the breezeway and up the stairs. My return trip had me startled to be looking at a pair of alabaster legs ending in white bunny house slippers. Blogger Julie declared, "I knew you were goin' to get that xx camera."
Here's Jadyn & Janaya with a book which they can't read. Julie piped up, "Mama's gonna read it to 'em."

D'y'all have your firewood in and all your tender vegetation wrapped up like a sore toe? What's your method(s) for keeping warm in the house, turn the thermostat up to roast? The old house we were raised in had a gas heater in the folks' room, in two bathrooms and one by the fireplace. In later years the fireplace was closed off and a wood burning King Heater took over. Lots more heat stayed in the house rather than going up the chimney. Electric blankets never saw my room until I left home.
What're some of your winter time stories?

Monday evening Rusty was tipped off."Casey wants to say the Thanksgiving prayer. He's been practicing one he made up."

Half of us had sat down to the table when we asked, "Casey, do you want to say the prayer?" "Yes, everybody has to sit down first and hold hands. Mama and grandma come sit down." In the quietest voice we heard in four days his watching turkey hunting on TV showed up. Part of the prayer sort of went like this, "..thank you for the woods where the turkeys live. Thank you for the turkeys that live in the woods, and thank you for the bullets to shoot 'em."

On Wednesday Rusty, his son Courtney and his son Casey were heading to Port Lavaca for flounders and shrimp for Thanksgiving dinner. Along the south side of the Formosa Plastics plant on highway 35 it hit me. "Hey, do you know what we forgot to bring? Ice Chests. That means we can't stop at Walmart on the way back." Court said, "I meant to get ours right by the back door and I plumb forgot it."
"Hey, wait a minute. Pull over at that little filling station while I call Billy." They said "Come on by we have lots of them."
"See, it pays to have great blog readers. Thank ya Lord."

Can you give the official and common names for this plant? Can you tell us the unique feature about it?

Five year old g'son Casey (the shark man) crushed a lot of soft drink cans for us

It's obvious the pic shows drag marks? What do you think was being dragged?

MAYBE SOME OF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS. Tuesday, 25 April 2006, 3:28 a.m.

WYOMING SHERIFFS PUT FEDERAL OFFICERS ON CHOKE-CHAINS

County sheriffs in Wyoming are insisting that all federal law
enforcement officers and personnel from federal regulatory agencies
must
clear all their activities in a Wyoming county with the Sheriff's
Office. Speaking at a press conference following the recent US District Court decision (case No 2:96-cv-099-J) Bighorn County Sheriff Dave Mattis stated that all federal officials are forbidden to enter his county without his prior approval.

"If a sheriff doesn't want the Feds in his county he has the
constitutional power and right to keep them out or ask them to leave or retain them in custody."

The court decision came about after Mattis & other members of the Wyoming Sheriffs' Association brought a suit against both the BATF and the IRS in the Wyoming federal court district
seeking restoration of the protections enshrined in the United States Constitution and the Wyoming Constitution. The District Court ruled in favor of the sheriffs, stating that,

"Wyoming is a sovereign state and
the duly elected sheriff of a county is the highest law enforcement official within a county and has law enforcement powers exceeding that of any other state or federal official."

The Wyoming sheriffs are demanding access to all BATF files to verify
that the agency is not violating provisions of Wyoming law that prohibit the registration of firearms or the keeping of a registry of firearm owners. The sheriffs are also demanding that federal agencies immediately cease the seizure of private property and the impoundment of private bank accounts without regard to due process in state courts.

Sheriff Mattis stated:

"I am reacting to the actions of federal employees who have attempted to deprive citizens of my county of their privacy, their liberty, and their property without regard to constitutional safeguards. I hope that more sheriffs all across America
will join us in protecting their citizens from the illegal activities of the IRS, EPA, BATF, FBI, or any other federal agency that is operating outside the confines of constitutional law. Employees of the IRS and the
EPA are no longer welcome in Bighorn County unless they intend to operate in conformance to constitutional law."

This case is evidence that the Tenth Amendment is not yet dead in the United States. It may also be interpreted to mean that political
subdivisions of a State are included within the meaning of the
amendment, or that the powers exercised by a sheriff are an extension of those common law powers which the Tenth Amendment explicitly reserves to
the People, if they are not granted to the federal government and
specifically prohibited to the States.

http://www.freerepublic.com...

(Comment: Constitutionally the sheriff is the highest and only elected law-enforcement officer in the state. Also, agencies that are part of the executive branch do not have jurisdiction outside DC. To its everlasting disgrace the Legislature of Mass. has abolished the Sheriffs in the state that gave us Lexington, Boston and Concord! This was totally unconstitutional and never should have happened! Without the
Sheriff you have no elected law enforcement office! The State Troopers are an arm of the governor's office and have no constitutional standing.)

"Wyoming is a sovereign state and the duly elected sheriff is the
highest law enforcement official and has law enforcement powers
exceeding that of any other state or federal official."

http://uscivilflags.org

WHAT'S YOUR GUESS? Is it maybe the AFTERBIRTH of a chupacabras? Of a Canadian wrinkled horn goat? Of a gorilla? Of a Patagonian Panther? Of a musk ox?
#1.
#2.
#3.
#4.
#5.
#6.

********

Does anyone know the name of this critter? Is it as poisonous as it looks?
#7 TWO IMAGES

A SOLDIER’S LAST LETTER HOME WRITTEN BY GENE WRIGHT Carrolton, GA Used by special permission by Rusty

Rusty’s note: As batboy for the Ray Maxwell Agency American Legion baseball team I only knew Harlow’s first name as “Dick”. In my memory, he was a friendly, good-looking, well-mannered baseball player on the same team as my brother Val. It was a sad day when we all received word of his death in Korea.
It was only recently that I learned of the following story written by Gene Wright one of their teammates. Gene is well acquainted with adversity. His mother, Goldie, was left with four kids to raise by herself. A talented athlete, Gene, a pitcher, was released from a major local sandlot baseball team by an apologetic coach. Mr. Stewart told him, “Gene, I had nothing to do with this. Here you won seven games for us and the guys upstairs (in the organization) want to make room for some of their hotshots.”
Gene progressed to professional baseball and somehow sustained a career ending injury. He returned home and married his high school sweetheart Ollie Lucas. They were living in an apartment behind my parent’s house when she came down with TB. Their separation during her convalescence was rough on the young couple. Now, after a successful career, he’s spending nearly every waking minute caring for Ollie during a heartbreaking period of dementia. The basic part of the following story appeared in a Georgia newspaper many years ago. While this is a departure from my usual outdoor related columns, it seems appropriate during this agonizing time of our readers losing military sons & daughters, mamas and daddies, spouses and lovers. May the rest of you be spared that heartache. Rusty
********

It was a small, smoky, V.F.W. club in a little dusty town that straddled Route 66 out in Western Oklahoma. We were four high school seniors picking up fifty bucks plus a few tips and all we could eat for playing a dance at the club on New Year’s Eve, 1950.

We called our band The Emerald Valley Boys. Woodie Harlow was on steel guitar, Roger Russell played lead guitar, Junior Munson played fiddle, I sang and pretended I could play rhythm guitar. There wasn’t a large crowd there that night. Fewer than thirty, mostly middle aged couples. We began with several up tempo numbers like “I’m Moving On" “If You’ve Got The Money, I’ve Got The Time,” and “ Poor Ole Kaliga”.

We’d played the club once before back in the spring. Apparently, they liked us well enough to invite us back. But that night, the crowd didn’t seem to be having a good time. Oh, they were pleasant enough and they applauded out of courtesy after each number, but they were quiet and only a few couples ventured out onto the dance floor.

Woodie suggested we slow the tempo down a mite, so we tried some old standards like, “When My Blue Moon Turns To Gold Again” and “The Tennessee Waltz”. It didn’t help. The party was still dragging.

You have to understand this wasn’t the best of times to be performing in a V.F.W. club-New Year’s Eve, or no. The country was barely out of World War II, and now we were up to our necks in the so-called police action in Korea. The Chinese were pouring across the Yalu River like someone dumped over a bushel basket of fire ants. Our guys were catching hell from one side of Korea to the other.

Woodie and I were both in the National Guard, the 45th Division, which was being activated. We both could be called up after graduation. Looking back on it, there wasn’t a whole lot to be partying about.

Regardless, it was our job to liven things up. We fell back on some old reliable tearjerkers like, “Honky Tonk Angel”, “You Don’t Have To Be a Baby to Cry”, and “Little Angel With a Dirty Face”. But that didn’t seem to help.

During our first break, Sergeant Marsden, the post commander who’d booked us, came over where we were having a Coke and overheard us discussing how we could liven things up. No performer likes to bomb, not even four high school kids playing a dance in Elk City, Oklahoma.

“You boys don’t get discouraged,” he said. “They like your music just fine. They just don’t seem to be in a dancin’ mood tonight.”

After our break, we decided to try a new song we’d only rehearsed a couple of times called “A Soldier’s Last Letter Home.” It’s been nearly fifty years since I sang the song. I haven’t heard it, or sung it, since that night. But, I recall the words as though it were yesterday. It went like this: When the postman delivered a letter, it filled the mother’s heart with joy, Because she didn’t know ‘til she read the inside, it was the last from her darling boy. “Dear Mom, was the way it started, ‘I miss so much’ it went on, “Mom I didn’t know that I loved you so, but I’ll prove it when this war is won. I’m writing this down in a trench, Mom, so don’t scold me if it isn’t so neat, you know as you did when I was a kid, and I came home with mud on my feet. The captain just gave us our orders, And, Mom, we’ll carry them through, I’ll finish this letter as soon as I can, but for now I’ll just say I love you.”

I think there may have been another verse or two, but, like I said, it’s been fifty years or so. Somewhere along about the second verse, a lone middle-aged couple made their way out onto the dance floor. Every pair of eyes in the hall was fixed upon them as they tenderly embraced and somewhat awkwardly began to dance.

When we finished the number there was no applause, not a sound. The couple turned and walked hand in hand up to the bandstand. Tears were streaming down both their faces as the man reached into his back pocket and took out his billfold. He removed a picture and handed it to me. It was of a young man in a Marine Corps uniform.
“That’s our boy,” he said proudly. Then he removed a folded piece of yellow paper and handed it to me. I unfolded it and read it. It was a telegram dated December 2, 1950, advising the couple of the death of their son in Korea.

I never felt a stronger desire to be somewhere else-anywhere but there facing that distraught couple. But then the lady smiled warmly and asked, “Would you please play that song again? For us?”
As we began to play, every last couple in the hall made their way quietly onto the floor to join them.

Well. That kinda broke the ice. Folks seemed to loosen up a bit. After that, we played mostly waltzes and the dance floor was pretty crowded the rest of the night. It wasn’t your run of the mill New Year’s Eve party, I’ll grant you that. We played way on into the New Year. And, it was our best night ever for tips. The crowd even gave us a standing ovation after our closing number. But then, if you’ve ever heard a four piece western band play “God Bless America,” I don’t have to tell you it wasn’t the Emerald Valley Boys they were applauding. No, I think they were clapping for themselves, and for each other and for all of us there that night and for those who weren’t and would never be again.

Afterward, we were invited to the couple’s little white frame home where the lady brewed us a pot of coffee.
Sitting there in her tiny kitchen, surrounded by framed portraits of their son, she asked if I’d sing “the song” once more. I tried, but I couldn’t finish it without breaking up. I still can’t.
Woodrow Wilson Harlow was killed in that forgotten war in Korea, November 12, 1952. How about a big round of applause for Woodie Harlow on the steel guitar?

Garon sent this. Even if you never were on a color guard or drill team you'll still probably appreciate this. Rusty was on an ROTC drill team but had to work and missed a practice. During the Queen Anne's Salute he dropped his rifle and it had grass sticking out the muzzle. That would never do. Enjoy
http://www.whc.net/rjones/U... target='_blank'>HERE

For the whole email, including the picture of a G.I. holding this little girl Contact Rusty.

This, my friends, is what we need to remember...not Madonna and the child she adopted in Africa for publicity!
A tough, but heartwarming story and a picture of John Gebhardt in Iraq . For those that did not know John, he was our former Med Group Chief, Dave Nordel replaced him. Anyway, his wife talked with mine last evening and sent this picture. Mindy related that this little girl's entire family was executed. They intended to execute her also and shot her in the head but they failed to kill her. She was cared for by John's hospital and is healing, but has been crying and moaning. The nurses said John is the only one she seems to calm down with, so John has spent the last four nights holding her while they both slept in that chair. The girl is coming along with her healing.

He's a real star..and a fine American.

NEWS FLASH. Rusty's great nephew Zaczary Trillis Guy, 12, sent this so we'll share with you.

Dear Uncle Abe,
I wanted to tell you about my first hunting trip. I sent you an email from my email address, but I guess it didn't work, so here it goes again!
I went on my first hunt with my cousin, Dyllan, and my Poppa Harry. We went to a hunting lease owned by my Poppa's friend in Mississippi. When we first arrived we took the golf cart out to scout the area. We got about 2 miles out and one of the tires busted so consequently we had to hike back to the campsite and get the truck. We used it to go collect the golf cart.
Our "campsite" was an old garage with concrete flooring and some sort of styro-foam garage type door. Dyllan and I slept in our sleeping bags on a small cot. The next morning we woke up, got dressed in our camo and got our
guns and headed out to the main gate. We were about 5 minutes out when we got another flat tire! So we just left the cart there and hiked the trail until we found a tree we liked and we set up and waited and watched.
It was freezing that morning. Dyllan and I thought our fingers and toes would fall off! While we were waiting we heard something behind us. Poppa cocked his gun and whatever it was took off. Right after that we saw a squirrel in the tree, we tried to move around to keep an eye on it, but we lost it anyway. Then I spotted another squirrel about 30 yards away. We made our way over to it, got set, took aim and fired... we missed it.
Shortly after we saw another squirrel. We got set, took aim and fired and this time... BAM! We got it! Unfortunately, that was the only squirrel we got. Poppa then wanted us to do some target shooting. He gave us a challenge... whoever could hit the old piece of metal didn't have to hike
back and get the Fix-A-Flat for the golf cart. I got the first turn...
Dyllan didn't even get to make a shot! I nailed it on the first try!! We finally made it back to camp and skinned the squirrel. We kept the meat and we're going to use it in a gumbo at Thanksgiving.
Oh, and my dad took us fishing in my PaPaw Guy's pond about a month ago! We caught 2 bass and about 8 brim. When we got home we cleaned and fileted the fish and fried them up and ate them. They were pretty good. Hopefully one day you and I will have an opportunity to go fishing together. That'd be pretty cool!
Thanks for emailing my mom that story about Grandpa Trillis. It helps me to feel closer to him the more I learn and know about him.
I love you. Love, Zachary Trillis
****
ZAC: Thanks a million (your namesake used to say that or "much abliged")for sharing your story with us. Always remember to respect the owner of the lease or property who allows you to enjoy the great outdoors the Good Lord provided us. Remember to obey the game laws and take only what you need, don't be a game hog. Be an ethical hunter because your actions might influence what non-hunters think of us and limit our future outdoor enjoyment.
Zac, I'd love to go fishing with you. Send us more stories. Uncle Abe
*****
Dear readers: Your kiddoes are welcome to send us their stories and digital photos. Rusty

#1. Mike Austin sent me an email with some gorgeous outdoor pix in it. Top rec eive it send your email addy via the Contact Rusty link.
#2. Our Lighthouse 2911 youth recovery projects are in dire need of three powerful new laptop computers by late December. Contact Paul Beard at 361-293-1350 or pmbeard@hotmail.com.
#3. A DIFFERENT CHRISTMAS POEM was sent by Terry “Hillbilly” Campbell from around Rogersville, MO, a Viet Nam vet suffering from Agent Orange. Not many of his “sprayed” buddies are still alive. Thanks, Terry and all you other Vets from whatever theater.

A Different Christmas Poem

The embers glowed softly, and in their dim light,
I gazed round the room and I cherished the sight.
My wife was asleep, her head on my chest,
My daughter beside me, angelic in rest.
Outside the snow fell, a blanket of white,
Transforming the yard to a winter delight.
The sparkling lights in the tree I believe,
Completed the magic that was Christmas Eve.
My eyelids were heavy, my breathing was deep,
Secure and surrounded by love I would sleep.
In perfect contentment, or so it would seem,
So I slumbered, perhaps I started to dream.

The sound wasn't loud, and it wasn't too near,
But I opened my eyes when it tickled my ear.
Perhaps just a cough, I didn't quite know, Then the
sure sound of footsteps outside in the snow.
My soul gave a tremble, I struggled to hear,
And I crept to the door ju st to see who was near.
Standing out in the cold and the dark of the night,
A lone figure stood, his face weary and tight.

A soldier, I puzzled, some twenty years old,
Perhaps a Marine, huddled here in the cold.
Alone in the dark, he looked up and smiled,
Standing watch over me, and my wife and my child.
"What are you doing?" I asked without fear,
"Come in this moment, it's freezing out here!
Put down your pack, brush the snow from your sleeve,
You should be at home on a cold Christmas Eve!"

For barely a moment I saw his eyes shift,
Away from the cold and the snow blown in drifts..
To the window that danced with a warm fire's light
Then he sighed and he said "Its really all right,
I'm out here by choice. I'm here every night." "It's my duty to stand at the front of the line,
That separates you from the darkest of times.
No one had to ask or beg or implore me,
I'm proud to stand here like my fathers before me.
My Gram p s died at 'Pearl on a day in December,"
Then he sighed, "That's a Christmas 'Gram always remembers."
My dad stood his watch in the jungles of 'Nam',
And now it is my turn and so, here I am.
I've not seen my own son in more than a while,
But my wife sends me pictures, he's sure got her smile.

Then he bent and he carefully pulled from his bag,
The red, white, and blue... an American flag.
I can live through the cold and the being alone,
Away from my family, my house and my home.
I can stand at my post through the rain and the sleet,
I can sleep in a foxhole with little to eat.
I can carry the weight of killing another,
Or lay down my life with my sister and brother..
Who stand at the front against any and all,
To ensure for all time that this flag will not fall."

"So go back inside," he said, "harbor no fright,
Your family is waiting and I'll be all right."
"But isn't there something I can do, at the least,
"Give you mo ney," I asked, "or prepare you a feast?
It seems all too little for all that you've done,
For being away from your wife and your son."
Then his eye welled a tear that held no regret,
"Just tell us you love us, and never forget.
To fight for our rights back at home while we're gone,
To stand your own watch, no matter how long.
For when we come home, either standing or dead,
To know you remember we fought and we bled.
Is payment enough, and with that we will trust,
That we mattered to you as you mattered to us."

Hillbilly

LAKE TEXANA STATE PARK SCENES
November 11, 2006 - Posted at 12:50 pm
Searching for places at Lake Texana State Park to install wood duck nesting boxes. #1. Nesting boxes with predator guards.


#2 Nice


#3. WAY BACK



#4 .FLOP EAR




Sugar Magnolia had this to say
November 11, 2006 - Posted at 8:19 pm Gorgeous pix, Rusty. Are you going to be installing those boxes? Are they for mating/hatching/protection? Would like to learn a little more.

SUG: Thanks for your kind words. The boxes serve as nests where wood ducks hatch and raise the ducklings until the little ones are ready to "fly the coop" so to speak. Installing the boxes over water greatly enhances the survival of the ducklings. Around here, raccoons respect the alligators enough not to try to swim out to the nests.

My part, besides being a big dreamer,is that as developement director I'm trying to raise money for building the boxes. My dream is for the Jackson County chapter of Lighthouse 2911 youth recovery project in Edna to build and install some of the boxes. David Lopez, the head park ranger, showed me where we could place at least 20 new boxes. There are some needed trail improvements and unwanted brush removal our youth can help with.
Another dream is to teach these 10 to 17 year olds, who are remanded by the court to our program, how to fish with trotlines, limblines and juglines. If not all, then 95%, of these youngsters come from single parent homes. We hope they catch enough fish to give to needy neighbors as well as their own families.
The name of the organization comes from the fact that our lives are to be lighthouses to our fellow travelers through life. In the bible, in Jeremiah 29:11 God tells us, Rusty's version, "For I know the thoughts I have for you, not to hurt you but to give you hope and a future and to prosper you."
Those people who apply themselves in the program learn that God loves them and so do we. Once they learn to respect themselves and others, there's no limit to what they can do.
Rusty Abe had this to say
November 12, 2006 - Posted at 1:28 am
Thanks Sug. It is my hope that my scribbles will be uplifting, informative, make one think, useful, or give a chuckle or two. Delete Comment
Sugar Magnolia had this to say
November 12, 2006 - Posted at 12:00 am
Wow Rusty between the beautiful Christmas story above and the spirit behind this project you just explained, I feel pretty darn warm and fuzzy inside. What a wonderful way to touch these youths who need guidance and a chance to learn by doing for others. I think your ideas are just what they need. Thank you for taking the time to give. And thank you for helping me to remember what this time of year is all about. Delete Comment
Sugar Magnolia had this to say
November 11, 2006 - Posted at 8:19 pm
Gorgeous pix, Rusty. Are you going to be installing those boxes? Are they for mating/hatching/protection? Would like to learn a little more. Delete Comment

Rusty's rather disappointed that we only had two readers enter the drawing for the books. Blogger Jeannie entered first so her name was put at zero and Blogger Julie's girls Jadyn and Janaya's names were put at ten. Rusty called an impartial helper and asked, "Please pick a number between Zero and Ten." "8". Julie's hobgobblins take this one. We had no entries for Birding Babylon so will rerun it until midnight Saturday November 25.

We'll draw for be an autographed copy of The Sierra Club sponsored BIRDING BABYLON book written by Jonathan Trouren-Trend, a member of the medical corps while stationed in Iraq. There are no pictures but Rusty may be able to email some of his digital pix captured from a powerpoint presentation. Send your name and this book name to enter the drawing via the comment feature on this blog. Deadline is midnight Saturday November 25. Check www.sierraclub.org/books for more information.

WOULD YOU RATHER BAMBI'S MAMA STARVE?
November 11, 2006 - Posted at 1:11 pm

The effects of the recent drought is seen in wildlife as well as domestic livestock. There's no way this doe's ribs should be showing at this time of year. There are TOO MANY DEER for the available food this year, in this particular area. Public opinion hollering "SAVE BAMBI'S MAMA" is to blame for much of the overpopulation of deer all across their range. It will take some time for range conditions to rebound after tough years. The only positive Rusty sees, in his opinion, is that does in this condition at breeding time may not produce much of a fawn crop next spring. This is one example of how nature takes care of the lean years. Rusty opines that humans are about the only animals that continue to have offspring in spite of the health of the mothers and whether or not there will be enough food for the babies.

Scanning ALL the roadway and parking spaces might save you some grief.

Sam took me over to deliver a signup list at a Ganado church. Seeing an empty parking space across the road he whipped his rig around right into that spot. When Rusty looked down he was agast to see this right under his feet . Seeing the bottle in front of a church wasn't as alarming as the fact that we just barely missed running over it and ruining a tire. Thanks, Lord.

Rusty can't decide which of these pix he likes best. What to YOU say? Thanks

#1. #35

#2. #37

#3. #42

#4. #43

Sherry Cook has been a good friend to me in the past few years. She included her own "foreword" to the story. Hope you enjoy it and remember the lessons in it. R: This is a nice story. However I want to make a comment about it before sending it on. Some of the things in it ARE something God might do, some are pure fantasy. The thing I don't like about it is that it promotes an idea that's far too prevalent in Christian circles and that's if you give enough God will somehow make you rich. BELIEVE me, I can tell you from the standpoint of someone who has been there and DONE that, it doesn't work that way. God does honor giving, especially tithing. There is a great benefit in health in tithing. However the idea that the man this old man helped would one day make this old man rich is pure fantasy. God showed me a long time ago that Christians need to lay up for their own future and not expect miraculous big chunks of money to appear for them. Some of you who know me will totally understand where I'm coming from with this. It IS a nice story, though, so enjoy.
THIS IS SO EXCELLENT! Worth taking the time to read.

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't Been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just Another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a Reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had Been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when The door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his Customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up.

"Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see You're busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty, "Stew ... Made it myself. When You're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse Me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken."

George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the Cold, the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as He turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to His old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, Opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best Thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into The night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em The truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ........" George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had Gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside
It. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked Slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had Been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't cracked, it Was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," He said to himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the Snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he Wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside A police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left Shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had Received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention."Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had Been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those And duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix Anythin," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease. "Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used For his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave The policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an Ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there Talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had Gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the Officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in The area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to Check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right Through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like thisbefore. "That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"

The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to The cop, "we got one too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pee shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week .."

George handed the gun to the cop. Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee." the cop said.

George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn.

"Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?," the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think

Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw.

"I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said, "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd
you come from? I thought you left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the
bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine
tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by
myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George.
You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry.

The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.

The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists.

The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take

any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the
stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord."

Searching for places at Lake Texana State Park to install wood duck nesting boxes. #1. Nesting boxes with predator guards.


#2 Nice


#3. Downstream spot

#4 WAY BACK

#5FLOP EAR


Sugar Magnolia had this to say
November 11, 2006 - Posted at 8:19 pm Gorgeous pix, Rusty. Are you going to be installing those boxes? Are they for mating/hatching/protection? Would like to learn a little more.

SUG: Thanks for your kind words. The boxes serve as nests where wood ducks hatch and raise the ducklings until the little ones are ready to "fly the coop" so to speak. Installing the boxes over water greatly enhances the survival of the ducklings. Around here, raccoons respect the alligators enough not to try to swim out to the nests.

My part, besides being a big dreamer,is that as development director I'm trying to raise money for building the boxes. My dream is for the Jackson County chapter of Lighthouse 2911 youth recovery project in Edna to build and install some of the boxes. David Lopez, the head park ranger, showed me where we could place at least 20 new boxes. There are some needed trail improvements and unwanted brush removal our youth can help with.
Another dream is to teach these 10 to 17 year olds, who are remanded by the court to our program, how to fish with trotlines, limblines and juglines. If not all, then 95%, of these youngsters come from single parent homes. We hope they catch enough fish to give to needy neighbors as well as their own families.
The name of the organization comes from the fact that our lives are to be lighthouses to our fellow travelers through life. In the bible, in Jeremiah 29:11 God tells us, Rusty's version, "For I know the thoughts I have for you, not to hurt you but to give you hope and a future and to prosper you."
Those people who apply themselves in the program learn that God loves them and so do we. Once they learn to respect themselves and others, there's no limit to what they can do.

Garon sent us this. If you'd like the entire email with the pix hit the Contact Rusty button.

It is the VETERAN , not the preacher,
who has given us freedom of religion.

It is the VETERAN , not the reporter,
who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the VETERAN , not the poet,
who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the VETERAN , not the campus organizer,
who has given us freedom to assemble.

It is the VETERAN , not the lawyer,
who has given us the right to a fair trial.

It is the VETERAN , not the politician,
Who has given us the right to vote.

It is the VETERAN ,
who salutes the Flag,

It is the veteran,
who serves under the Flag,

ETERNAL REST GRANT THEM O LORD, AND LET PERPETUAL LIGHT SHINE UPON THEM.
*****
In one parade side photo, the only person standing was the guy in the wheelchair. Some real citizens we have, huh?

Folks: Rusty needs some help here. Please give your ideas and wishes in this matter. Thanks

What do you call a person from:
1. Texas?
2. Alaska?
3. Russia?
4. Germany?
5. Spain?
6. Mexico?

Pete and Suzie got into a flap this week because he mentioned the word Mexican, and not in a derissive manner. Suzie went nuts hollerin', "You're not supposed to use that word. Say Spanish." Peter bristled, "They ain't from Spain. They're from Mexico and I'm sure not going to kiss their backsides just because they come to my country and start demonstratin' and tellin' us what to call'em."

Rusty's questions: 1. WHO says what we're SUPPOSED to and NOT SUPPOSED to say what we call anybody?

Just because one person doesn't want to be called something doesn't mean the whole world has to march to his or her drum. I personnaly have really enjoyed working with people from Mexico.

2. If your ancestors were, or your immidiate family is, from Mexico, what would prefer to be called? Why or why not?

Rusty is seeking information on where to find help for a friend we'll call Wally. Wally suffers from severe anxiety, panic attacks, and depression. He'd like to get well enough to drive to town by himself. He can't work without someone riding to work and back with him.

Helping Hands of Jackson County can give him a voucher to see the doctor in quest of prescriptions. The Wesley Nurse in Edna will see what she can do to get him the meds he needs.

Our question to you is, Is there anyone we can contact to get him financial assistance to get him into the Heritage For Seniors depression therapy program? He doesn't have medicare and a supplement nor any health insurance to pay for the program.

Thank you for any suggestions you may have. This guy SAYS he really needs and wants to get better.
****
THANKS ALL.
AFTER RELAYING ALL THE INFO YOU FOLKS SENT ME I realized this guy wants a magic pill to make him well without him having to do anything for himself. I told him when he's really serious and will make an effort to call me and I'll try to help him. Right now I'm in the process of finding what dosage of this new antidepressant works best for me. I'm in no shape to be playing games with someone who just wants to use me.

Because Rusty wanted to rub it in with blogger Julie today he invited her over to present the boating charts DVDs to Blogger Amber and Mike Terrell. It turned out to be a better deal than anticipated because Tammy Terrell was able to share a lot of her experiences with Julie about disorders like ADD; ADHD; DISLEXIA; BIPOLAR; etc. in regards to school programs for disfunctional students.

Mrs. Rusty made up about a quart of powdered milk the other evening because we ran out of the $3.89/gallon kind. He decided to see how long we can go on the powdered stuff. It was too rich for Rusty so he "thinned it down" a bit too much. Adding more powder helped some. In order to improve the taste, a few drops of the grandson's strawberry milk is added. Some folks might think it looks funny eating cereal or cookies with pink milk. Try it, you might like it.
*****
NEW CONCOCTION. Rusty had bought a bottle of a souped up (with vitamins & minerals) liquid yogurt called NOURICHE (SP?). To him, it wasn't worth the price paid. When the little bottle was empty Rusty filled it with mostly plain yogurt and a few STRONG squirts of strawberry syrup in the powdered milk. That worked so well he bought the bigger containers of H.E.B. yogurt in these flavors: Light strawberry, sweetened plain, peach, and vanilla. Hopefully, this'll give some nourishment for a mad dash out the door.

FREE OUTDOOR BOOKS FOR RUSTY READERS
October 27, 2006 - Posted at 4:44 pm
Watch this carefully for information on new outdoor books available to our readers. We have to work out details before we post each one. The first we'll draw for will be an autographed copy of The Sierra Club sponsored BIRDING BABYLON written by Jonathan Trouren-Trend, a member of the medical corps while stationed in Iraq. There are no pictures but Rusty may be able to email some of his digital pix captured from a powerpoint presentation. Send your name and this book name to enter the drawing via the comment feature on this blog. Deadline is midnight Saturday November 11. Check www.sierraclub.org/books for more information.


********
Hearing "HEY RANGER!" sometimes makes even veteran National Park Rangers cringe. After 30 years of answering to that call, Jim Burnett gives 34 chapters of the antics observed and questions he heard from the public through the years. HEY RANGER! will keep you in stitches at times and in suspense at others.

One example came from a little old lady contemplating taking the jackass express to the bottom of the Grand Canyon and back. She queried, "Young man, is there a dining car in that mule train?"

One spring word circulated around the East Glacier National Park Ranger Station that a poacher had wounded a grizzley bear. Many of the 300 residents the little town were leary enough they began driving, forget walking, to the two little grocery stores. All trash and garbage was deposited in "bear proof" metal boxes with very heavy lids.

One mild night ranger Jim was ready for his shower when Miss Velma asked, "Honey, would you take out the trash tonight?" Slipping into only his tennies and jeans he grabbed the sack and headed to the trash bin a couple blocks away. Jim put it something like this, "The trick to making deposits was to push that lid up with both hands then reach down with one and grab the package. Just as I lifted the bag a sixth sense told me that I wasn't alone when a breath of hot air hit me in the middle of the bare back. As tall as I am, my companion couldn't possibly be Rocky the Raccoon. With both of my hands raised like in, "I Surrender" there were few options available to me. Maybe with my hands that high and hollering real loud maybe I could convince that critter I was bigger and meaner than he was."
For more information check www.heyranger.com.

Rusty asked for a "not able to be sold at full retail", but fully readable, copy of Hey Ranger! for a drawing prize. Free samples will really eat into an author's income. To enter, give us the name of this book and your name via the comments feature on this blog. Deadline is midnight Saturday November 11. Good luck.

THE pic below shows our blogger Julie (Frazzled Mama) presenting MAPTECH DVDs to Michael Terrell and blogger Amber Bee. Julie was chosen to present the prizes since she didn't win one because SHE DIDN'T ENTER. However when Rusty went to get Amber & Mike's DVDs he found another one. After chiding her for not entering we gave her one for her brother Mike Chanek who works at Kresta's Bosts & Motors in Edna.

We have two winners of our MAPTECH CD U.S. BOATING CHARTS for the ENTIRE U.S. COASTLINE including the Great Lakes and major rivers. Blogger Amber 's reason for entering was to give one to her uncle who fishes the coast and offshore. Michael Terrell, Amber's dad, wanted one for a friend or his father-in-law. Before anyone hollers "fix", be aware that they won by default. They were the only ones to enter. Nobody has any cause to gripe at Rusty for that (unless you wouldn't think it fair to bum a fishing trip from the recipients. HINT-HINT. LOL).
Mike & Amber: We'll expect reports on how they enjoy using the CDs. Fair enough? Thanks for entering.

HERE'S THE CARMEL PECAN PIE RECIPE. Melt 1/4 C of water; 1/4 C butter and 30 UNWRAPPED (seriously, some people forget)KRAFT CARMELS together (A large microwave measuring cup works at our house) and let cool. Heat a nine inch pie crust at 325* 6 to 8 minutes. Let it cool. Mix together two eggs; 3/4 C sugar; vanilla to suit; and a dash of salt. MIX CARMEL MIXTURE with EGG MIXTURE. At our house 1-1/4 to 1-1/2 C chopped pecans are dumped on the crust before all the filling goes in. Bake the pie at 325* for ten minutes and then at 350* for 20-25 minutes until set. Don't put ice cream or cool whip on it until AFTER you take it out of the oven. Let us know how you like it.