Taking Chance

Last weekend while Beautiful and I was at the hotel resting, we watched one of the best movies I've seen in a long time. The title was "Taking Chance" starring Kevin Bacon. I won't play spoiler but it was about a Marine officer that escorted a fallen warrior back home. It was based on a true story and was very moving. It makes you even prouder of the men and women that risk everything for people whom take them for granted. An excellent movie, catch it if you can.

Weekend Getaway

Beautiful and I finally got away for a weekend by ourselves. Our adventure took us a whole 90 miles from home, but it seemed like a million.

Our first stop was at our hotel, The Skirven, built back in the 1920's and refurbished in '07. A beautiful lobby with the old art deco restored beautifully. Our room was on the ninth floor, a corner room that looked down this street that the picture was taken. We picked this hotel as it was with walking distance to all the sights we wanted to see. Friday we checked in late and had a late dinner at the hotel. I was going to take a picture of our meals like Beth does at Switched At Birth, but forgot my camera. So I'll just tell you, it was purty and good. Beth would have given her approval. Afterwards, we sat in the lobby outside a piano bar and listened to some gal tickling the ivories.

Saturday we walked over to the OKC Memorial which is where the bombing took place. There are two walls, (like the one in the reflecting pool photo) that have 9:01 and 9:03 engraved in them. The bombing took place at 9:02. Even with a Memorial Day crowd, the grounds were silent, everyone in awe of the inhumanity of a few demented individuals.


The tree is called the Survivor Elm. On that day cars parked around it were burning and even some of its limbs were destroyed. Today it stands as a symbol to the attitude of the people of OKC who lived through this, we will survive and flourish. The building behind it had heavy damage that day. Today the wall stands the same as that day, untouched all these years later. Inside houses the museum. You run the wide range of emotions while going through the museum. I was outraged, saddened to tears, thankful for the response of people around the world, and mad that these events and events of 9-11, seem to mean so little to people now that they are not on the evening news every night. The statue is titled Jesus Wept which says it all.














We next walked the four miles to the Botanical Gardens, I wasn't much inpressed. The grounds were landscaped beautifully, but the old fat boy was getting tired and so the poor impression. Beautiful liked it, and that's all that matters.









That night was spent in Bricktown, I used my camera phone but didn't save the pictures, datgum newfangled thing. So once again I'll have to use words. We walked over, only about five blocks from our hotel, to Bricktown and ate at Jazmo's Bourbon Street Grill, our table was on the canal, as close as you could get without falling in. A cool breeze swept along the canal and dinner once again was outstanding. Appetizer was Crocodile tail bites, Beautiful had a mushroom burger which had more mushrooms than meat. I had Chicken Bon Ton which was a panneed chicken breast topped with a crab and shrimp Alfredo sauce served over dirty rice. I believe I'll have that again. We walked the canal waiting for time to pass before the live music started when a clap of thunder told us to head inside. We landed in Maker's Cigar Bar, and were the only one's there, I got a cigar and we settled down into a nice leather chair and couch and waited until the band started to play. They started at nine was going to play until around 2. We left around 11:30 when a loud mouth blonde came in with about 10 others and we couldn't hear the music any longer. You know you're loud when the band tells you to settle down, which they didn't. We walked back to our hotel, which is a good thing about OKC. It's safe to walk downtown after dark, other places not, but around bricktown they keep the peace. It was a great weekend getaway, I'm going to schedule another one soon.

It's Time

It’s time. Once a year it is time. Time to remember the heroes that have kept us free. From beaches, forest, deserts, mountains, below the sea, from anywhere there is someone or something that threatens freedom, they are there. For those we are remembering this weekend, the fallen heroes, thanks isn’t enough. You didn’t have enough time with your family, you never saw your baby let alone make it to retirement. To those serving around the world, this grateful American proudly thanks you, prays for you, and looks forward to the time you’ll come home.

Life

Life.

What is life but a set amount of time on this earth. When we are born that set amount starts ticking. Each one of us has a set amount of time, and like fingerprints, that amount is different for each of us.

So, if we have a set amount of time in this period that we call life, how are we going to spend it? Being a grouch, complaining because the waitress didn’t get your tea glass filled the minute it was empty. How about that ole gal that’s driving the speed limit and keeping you from rushing to wherever, is it worth bitching at her?

Or how about spending more time with someone. Not only a loved one, that’s easy, but how about at the bedside of someone with HIV. Or talking to the town bum. How about holding your lover’s hand as you cross the street.

Spending time. We’re rich with it when we’re born. We grow poorer each day as we spend our life in our everyday routine. One day, we never know when, we will be bankrupt of time, our life will have been spent, and we’ll go the way of our elders, not another second to make a difference in someone’s life.

I hope each one of us will impact someone, touch someone, help someone, before time is up.

Stormy Weather

“A storm approaches.”
The navigator says.
“Steer into the wind,
Adjust your course.”
Lightening flashes,
Thunder thumps my chest.
Or is it my heart,
Beating, no pounding.
The bow rises,
Waves break.
So do the dishes.
I jump at the sound
And awake
I sit on my bed
In an ocean of sheets

My Dad, The Jokester

I found this among some of my dad's papers. I don't remember him ever telling a joke, his humor was the ribbing and some practical jokes, so this must have struck his funny bone for him to write it down.

Problem:

If a pig drank several whiskey sours before he started,
and ran a mile before he farted,
how far could he run before he shits.

Calculation:

Now in order for me to win this bet
I first must take you to where the first fart was let.
A farmer said he saw the pig pass
With whiskey shooting from his ass.
Now the farmer was a mile away
From where the pig started
And passed the farmer just as he farted.
It was so funny the farmer had to laugh
While the pig nearly ran a mile and half.
Now it seems to me if he could keep his wits
He could run five miles before he shits.


I found this on the day dad died, he helped us laugh and remember the good times we had together. We all could see him laughing along with us. Thanks dad, you helped me through one of the worst times of my life, just like you always did.

My Name

Dierks Bentley has a song that has become my theme song, it is “My Last Name”. If you haven’t heard it, take a time to listen to it sometime. In the mean time I’ll give you the short version, he’s proud of the name his father gave him, and he’s proud of those who bore it before him. That is why it has become my theme song.

A couple of weeks ago my father passed away, he is my example, my inspiration, my hero. Robert G. Walker was born to a poor farm family, he lived through the Stock Market Crash, the Depression, the Dust Bowl, Served during World War 2, the A-bomb, desegregation, the Berlin Wall falling down, man walking on the moon, Cuban Missile crisis, Kennedy’s assassination, the first Black president, among other things. He went from walking and riding horses to driving all over the nation.

A quiet man who spoke only when he had something important, or funny, to say. Had to have meat, bread and gravy at least once a day and loved lemon pie. It would be safe to say that he spent most of his life outdoors, he worked as a pipe liner and he loved to work in his yard. He loved working in his small shop and became a master at the scroll saw, his art work hangs all over his house, and mine.

He taught me how to work hard and to be proud of it. That action speaks louder than words. To be proud of country and stand up for it. To love family. To be a friend to everyone even those you may despise.

The greatest compliment that I received was in a sympathy card from a friend who didn’t know him, she said that considering the caliber of man I have become that my dad must have been a wonderful man, that he was and still is in my heart, and the heart of all who had the privilege to know him.

Love ya dad, and I miss you.