I Thought That He Walked On Water (Happy Father's Day)

Randy Travis has a very distinctive voice.  Last night we rode into town to the Rocket Drive In and had burgers and root beer frosties. On the ride back home, we listened to Classic Country and sang along.  Good Food, good music - a good Saturday night.  Randy Travis sang a remarkable song called, "I thought that he walked on water."

If you click the red arrow below, you can watch the video of that song, and I've cut & pasted the lyrics to the song below.  Then below that I have a few thoughts regarding that song and what it means to me.

He wore starched white shirts buttoned at the neck,

And he'd sit in the shade and watch the chickens peck

And his teeth were gone, but what the heck,

I thought that he walked on water

He said he was a cowboy when he was young

He could handle a rope and he was good with a gun

And my mama's daddy was his oldest son,

And I thought that he walked on water

If the story was told, only heaven knows

But his hat seemed to me like an old halo

And although his wings, they were never seen

I thought that he walked on water

Then he tied a cord to the end of a mop,

And said, "son, here's a pony, keep her at a trot"

And I'd ride in circles while he laughed a lot

Then I'd flop down beside him

And he was ninety years old in sixty-three

And I loved him and he loved me

And lord, I cried the day he died,

'Cause I thought that he walked on water

If the story was told, only heaven knows

But his hat seemed to me like an old halo

And though his wings, they were never seen

I thought that he walked on water

Yeah, I thought that he walked on water

The song is a touching one about a boy singing about his great-grandpa and how he looked up to him.  As I sit here this evening on Father's Day, I realize that I have a lot to be thankful for and have a fifty years of great memories of my grandfathers and my Dad. I think that they walk(ed) on water.

My grandfather on my mother's side was a good man.  He was a selfless individual who cared about his family, his friends, and his community.  I remember there was a man in town named Mr. Charles.  Mr. Charles had a disability that rendered him unable to walk or talk.  My grandfather (we called him "Poppy") would pick him up in his Ford Bronco and take Mr. Charles to church on Sundays.  My grandfather taught me to compost.  I can remember him telling me how many years it takes to create an inch of topsoil.  He served in the WWII European theater and loved his country.  Most of all, he loved us deeply and sincerely.

My grandfather on my dad's side instilled in me the love of agriculture.  He wore a white Stetson straw hat and cover-alls.  He took time out of his schedule to spend with me, teaching me to work the soil and plant vegetables and and experience the miracle of seeds popping up out of the ground and yielding a bountiful harvest.  He taught me to fish.  He enjoyed watching me get involved in 4-H and showing livestock.  In his later years, he got involved with raising beef cattle and that, in turn, got me interested in doing the same.

My dad sought out and married a wonderful woman in my mom and they continue to be great parents to this day.  My dad taught me the value of hard work, of persistence, of virtue.  He made sure that I was in church on Sunday and disciplined us so that we had a keen understanding of the difference between right and wrong. Don't misunderstand that he is a hard man - he isn't.  He is patient and kind and understanding even when we didn't deserve it.  I had an opportunity to work alongside him farming and I still consider those years some of the best of my life. He taught me to be a man and modeled to me how to be a husband and a father to my own kids.

My Dad's shoes, and those of my grandfathers, are impossible to fill.  While they are (were) not perfect, they are (were) giants in my eyes.  They say we stand on the shoulders of those who precede us, and I think that is true.  I am who I am today because of what I learned from my grandfathers and my dad.  I thank God for them. I wish my grandfathers were still alive to tell them Happy Father's Day. Fortunately, I can still wish my Dad a Happy Father's Day.  Happy Father's Day, Dad!

Jump!

A trampoline has long been a fixture at our house.  We're actually on our second trampoline as a hurricane turned the first one into a twisted mass of steel about 15 years ago.  We purchased another and it has stood the test of time; however, we did have to replace the mat this past fall.

The trampoline originally came with certain safety features like foam padding that covered up the springs, designed to keep you from falling through.  Those are long gone now, disintegrated by age and wear.  It also originally came with padded posts around the perimeter that held up a net enclosure that kept you from bouncing out when doing flips. The net got ripped and eventually dry rotted a couple of years ago. I took the posts off and re-purposed them.  The posts are now the anchor points in the garden for a trellis that supports my birdhouse gourds and luffa gourds.

 The kids jump and whenever their friends come over, they jump.  The kids find new and creative ways to add to the "trampoline experience."  They pulled the basketball goal next to the trampoline and fly through the air, dunking the ball. What fun!

It sits underneath sprawling live oak and pecan trees that keep you in constant shade.  Tricia calls this area the "grove" and it is the perfect place for jumping on the trampoline.

Big Boy, our Great Pyrenees, take great pleasure in the trampoline as well.  He digs monstrous craters underneath the trampoline and reclines in the cool dirt in the shade. The only problem is that when it rains, his craters fill with water and he has to dig new craters. He will jump up on the trampoline from time to time.  I wish he'd stay up there rather than excavate our yard, because when it rains, all his loose dirt washes away and goes down the bayou.  He's causing quite the erosion problem.

The other day, the neighborhood kids came over and asked if they could jump. "Sure," I said.  When I walked outside, they had pulled the trampoline right next to the cattle trailer. "Watch this, Mr. Kyle," they would yell.  Then they would bounce real high and jump on top of the cattle trailer and then jump off and back onto the trampoline.  You'd be surprised how high you can jump.  Gravity is a powerful force. I walked away thinking that is exactly some of the things my brother and I did as kids growing up.

A few days later, however, I was getting competitive pricing on homeowner's insurance to try to get some lower rates.  One question that every insurance company asked was, "Do you have a trampoline?"  When my answer was "Yes," the follow-up question was, "Does it have protective netting and padding?"  When my answer was, "No," I think I heard a cash register in the background at the insurance company go" cha-ching."  Needless to say, we're staying where we are with insurance for the time being since this new policy would be quite a JUMP up from the current one.  I don't have the heart to get rid of the trampoline.

A Crawfish Boil for Russ

When Russ graduated from LSU back in May, he wanted to have a crawfish boil in the backyard and celebrate with family.  That's just what we decided to do.  My Dad was able to get a few sacks of crawfish from the farm and we washed them up real good in a washtub in the backyard.  The weather was absolutely perfect for a boil.

The crawfish were perfect, too.  They were clean and a nice size.  We started up the fire on the burner and waited for the water to come to a boil.

While waiting we seasoned the water, cut up lemons, gathered onions, potatoes, corn, and garlic and visited.

The boys got out the Marlin .22 and set up a target and began sighting it in.  Pretty soon, though, the smell of Zatarain's Crawfish Boil seasoning wafted through the air beckoning hungry target shooters to eat.

My sister, who is a professional cake baker, made purple and gold cupcakes for the graduate.  They looked good and tasted good, too.

The crawfish were boiling in the heavily seasoned water and it didn't take long for them to be ready.

We spread out newspaper on the table and poured the hot, boiled crawfish on the table.  Everyone rolled up their sleeves and began peeling crawfish and eating until their bellies were full.

The crawfish were delicious.  We enjoyed each other's company.  Russ wasn't fired up about us singing, "For he's a jolly, good fellow," though.

We actually had some left over that we couldn't eat.  No worries.  We gathered around the island inside (because the mosquitoes started really bothering us) and peeled the rest of the crawfish, packing the tail meat into quart-size Zip loc bags.

We had quite a few bags when we were done.  Some got given away, some got frozen.  In a few days, Tricia thawed out one of the bags and made a big, delicious casserole baking dish of CRAWFISH FETTUCCINE!

What an enjoyable evening!  We celebrated the graduate with good food and family togetherness.  Let the good times roll!

Rat Killers

It has been almost 3 complete years since our two cats died.  Sheltie and Christie were sisters and were 13 years old when the last of their 9 lives expired.  We've missed having cats around. We've also missed their ferocious desire to hunt out and kill rats, birds and the occasional squirrel.

Since their demise, the rats have grown in number.  As they say, "When the cat's away, the mice play." We've seen the population of rats in the barn skyrocket and have even seen a few in the garage.   It was high time that we restored order around here.  We began looking around for kittens and found a couple of kittens from a friend on Tricia's facebook.  The kittens were sisters.  A few days ago they brought over a laundry basket of kittens and Russ and Benjamin each picked out one.

Russ' kitten is the one on the left and Benjamin's is the one on the right.  They are living in the garage for now, but we'll introduce them to the barn at some point.

At first we were a little concerned about how they would fare with Big Boy, our Great Pyrenees dog.  Big Boy makes sport of chasing down and violently killing possums, rabbits and other varmints.  We were thinking that Big Boy may enjoy eating our new kittens, so we kept the kittens in a kennel for a few days.  Then we released them while we kept a close eye on Big Boy so he wouldn't snack on the kittens.  Believe it or not, Big Boy wasn't interested.

How could you eat a kitten in a Croc?  Really...

For some reason they like sitting in my Crocs.

I have made a personal note to make sure I check the Crocs before putting my feet in them.  The kittens show lackluster skills in using a litterbox that the boys set out in the garage and I don't want to find a 'surprise' when I slip my feet into the Crocs.

Although I'm not a cat person, I have to admit that they are kind of cute.  They need to grow up quickly though.  Some of the rats on the property are much bigger than them.  The cats will have to earn their keep around here by putting a dent in the rat population.  We'll be anxious to see how our new Rat Killers perform.

Tomatoes Are About to Finish up

The Spring 2017 Tomato Crop is tapering off now.  The onslaught of the heat and humidity coupled with platoons of stink bugs have the tomato plants waving white flags of surrender.  I've learned a trick that extends the harvest a bit.  The trick involves picking the fruit when you see the first tinge of pink.

I then bring the "just-barely" pink fruit indoors where it can ripen without bug, bird, and squirrel competition.  We have a staging area made up of three platters. Here is an example:  On day 1, you can see the fruit I picked today, mostly green, but with a hint of pink.

Overnight they ripen somewhat on the tray and by the morning, the tomatoes are sporting a reddish color

By day 3 the tomatoes have turned from mostly green to red or blackish-color, depending on the variety.  We grow a number of varieties

Once they are ripe we'll begin to consume them.  Tricia likes to make an Italian tomato salad that she enjoys eating.  It has fresh homegrown purple onions mixed with tomatoes and olive oil and basil

And who can forget about fresh homemade Pico de Gallo.  We can absolutely kill a bag of tortilla chips and a 2 quart container of this stuff.  It has chopped tomatoes, onions, jalapeno peppers, cilantro and the juice of limes with some salt and pepper.

We also slice tomatoes and eat them, dehydrate tomatoes, and can a bunch of them. Here we have quarts of salsa.  In the center, you can see some jars of green tomato sauce.  This came about when we had a hard freeze that popped my Fall crop of tomatoes.  Green tomato sauce is very good, believe it or not!

Then we stewed twenty-something jars of chopped tomatoes that we'll use for cooking when we no longer have fresh ones at our disposal.  Notice the jar of stewed yellow tomatoes below.

We'll still have tomatoes coming in from the garden for a while, but we are stocking up on the inventory of tomatoes in various forms.  Believe it or not, it is only a couple of months before we'll start our fall tomato plants from seeds.  Aside from the summer, we have tomatoes going in some form or fashion.

Demo Of the Chicken Tractor

So now that we have a new chicken tractor built, the old chicken tractors out on the pasture need to be demolished.  It wasn't tops on the priority list, but needed to be done. The old chicken tractors are falling apart and are definitely eyesores.  If we lived in an area with a Homeowner's Association, we'd be fined or kicked out of the neighborhood for sure.  For this and other reasons.

I brought a hammer, a crowbar, and a drill and began taking one of the two apart.  I saved the nails and screws as I didn't want the cows or goats stepping on them or ingesting them. I don't want to experience hardware disease.  I stacked the tin on top of the other old chicken tractor that will be torn down later.  We can re-use the tin.  As far as the lumber is concerned, some of it is rotten, while some can still be used.  The rotten wood goes on the burn pile, but the good lumber goes in a stack to be reused.

The remaining chicken tractor will likely come down this week, weather permitting. I want to show you something up close, if you can see the photo below clearly. Right in the center is a big hole in the chicken wire.

You know what caused that?  Goats!  Mischievous goats are always getting into trouble. They always try to get where they are not allowed.  Seeing this, it accentuates the need to make sure that before I roll the new chicken tractor in the pasture, I have it protected.  I don't want the goats to break through the wire on the new chicken tractor trying to get to the chicken feed or trying to get in out of the rain.

With some roofing nails, some hardware cloth, and the salvageable lumber from the first chicken tractor we tore down, I was able to build a nifty drying apparatus for our onions. Things just keep being re-used around here until it can't be used for anything else.

Once the onions have cured, I'll take the onion drying rack apart and roll up the hardware cloth and we'll use it again later on.

KFC and the American Dream

Image Credit

I read an Alaska Dispatch News Article that made me smile and proud to live in America - the land of opportunity, where, believe it or not, one can still live the American Dream. I'll cut and paste some excerpts from the article below written by Charles Wohlforth, but I really recommend you clicking on the hyperlink above to read the whole thing.

Tuoi Yungbauer escaped Saigon days before the city fell to the North Vietnamese army in 1975. A year later, she got a job at the Kentucky Fried Chicken restaurant at Northern Lights Boulevard and C Street (in Anchorage).  She still works there.

I went to meet Yungbauer because I had never heard of anyone working 41 years at a fast-food counter. But instead of getting a story about an oddity, I learned about strength, perseverance and the promise of America.  Yungbauer can't help smiling. I watched at the end of a long shift as she greeted each customer with wide-eyed excitement. Her co-workers said she fires them up too.

Yungbauer bought a house in the 1980s, after the economy crashed and empty homes dotted Anchorage.  She had saved $20,000 from 10 years of fast-food wages. So she bought a $20,000 house. (Her pay started at $3.65 an hour; now she makes $10.50.) 

But at first she couldn't live in her cottage in Mountain View. The inside was wrecked, without insulation, needing a complete remodel.  Yungbauer borrowed a book about framing, drywall and roofing. She bought lumber one piece at a time and brought it home on her bicycle.  She figured out, with her small size, how to get heavy sheets of drywall to the ceiling. She textured it with a rainbow pattern.

Tuoi bought a 20-year-old Pontiac because Anchorage's bus system didn't run during some of her work hours. She paid $200 for the car and loves it.  She eats rice and homegrown vegetables. She still sews clothes. She has gone back to Vietnam for dental work and an eye operation to save money.

But while she and Albert don't have enough money to do anything for fun, they are fun. They laugh and tease. Albert has red hair, and Tuoi calls him "the volcano."

This is my favorite part:

Anchorage is home now. She became an American citizen in 1978. When she goes back to Vietnam, people tell her she speaks the language with an American accent.  She said most people in Anchorage are friendly, but she sometimes runs into bigots.
"They say, 'Why don't you go back home?' And I say, 'Hey, wait a minute, I didn't ask you for anything. I worked for my money,' " she said.  I told her that story made me angry. She said, "I think they're very insecure for themselves."
I grew up in Anchorage with every advantage. America gave me incredible opportunities and asked for next to nothing in return.

Tuoi is quite a hero!  I love reading stories like this about people who are small in stature (the article states she is 4'8"), but are actually larger than life.  A couple of years ago I was at an LSU football game and there was a large group of Vietnamese LSU Alumni that were tailgating next to us.  They invited us over to eat with them and we ate all sorts of delicious food.  They told us stories similar to Tuoi's about how they came over to the United States after the fall of Saigon.

They told us about how their families settled in South Louisiana and worked on shrimp boats and restaurants and how they went to LSU and got educated.  They introduced us to brothers, cousins and uncles who were now doctors, dentists, lawyers, and engineers. They LOVE America and the opportunity they were given to become successful.  I admire the work ethic, the dedication, and drive these wonderful Americans have.

I don't know who to attribute this saying to, but I think it holds true:

Hard times make strong men.

Strong men create good times.

Good times create weak men.

Weak men create hard times.