One Night In Viet Nam

I actually went to college to play football so it was no surprise to me that after football season ended my freshman year I received a letter from the dean stating that I was placed on Academic probation and would have to set the next semester out. As it turned out the next semester contained the next years football season so my interest in college went from low to zero. I did the only illogical thing an 18 year old macho man would do I joined the Marine Corps. I reported to the Marine Recruit depot at San Diego. We disembarked from the bus and stood on the famous foot prints, and received the first outpouring of screaming and taunting from the three Drill instructors. We marched poorly and heard the Hippity hop mob Stop ,and were at the barbershop .We of course, had our hair cut off. After standing in line for It seemed like forever, we received our utilities ,boots, covers, and everything else that would be our sole possessions for the next eight weeks. After being awake almost all night we marched or a semblance of a march to our hutches, which would be our home . Feverously we tried to put everything away in its proper place We heard, company on the road and scrambled to put on our coats ,I grabbed my gloves as it was December, and even in San Diego it was chilly, ran out the door and lined up along the asphalt at attention. One of our Drill Instructors was sergeant Joy, 150 pounds of Black evil. He walked down the line of us inspecting us and giving every recruit a hard time, and then he came to me. About two inches from my face he yelled slime, what do you have in your field jacket pockets? I responded that I had my gloves. Sergeant Joy then ordered everyone else back in the hootches and when we were the only ones outside, he told me to give him the gloves and when I did he took them and slapped me in the face with them. Then yelling attention, he ordered me in to my hootch. I ran into the hootch and one of the other drill instructors had explained to everyone else the proper placement of Boots and shower shoes under the bunk and on each side of the foot locker. I hurriedly asked which way they went and then placed mine, when sergeant Joy yelled attention and we all came to attention next to our bunks. The Black drill instructor made his rounds inspecting everyone’s bunks and placements when he came to my bunk he yelled everyone out on the road ,then grabbed me and told me to stay. My buddy whom I had asked the proper placement of boots and shower shoes, had told me wrong. When everyone was outside, the drill instructor picked up my shower shoes and while I was standing next to my bunk at attention, he slapped me in the face with the shower shoes. I grabbed him by his shirt, picked him up and threw him against the wall. He yelled attention. I came to attention. He positioned his face inches from mine and said” If you ever touch me again I will Kill You.” I believed every word he spoke. My learning curve began to straighten out after a while as I figured out the best way to avoid confrontation was to become invisible. On the drill field I daydreamed as we marched ,and seeing a new Camero,in the parking lot I was happily visualizing myself running it through the gears as the drill instructor crept up beside me and grabbed my rifle and proceeded to slam the receiver against my head .He screamed for me to report to him at his duty hut when we got back to our hootches.By this time I was becoming quite tired of being his whipping boy so I decided that if I went I would get a beating and if I didn’t I might and maybe might not . Sure enough he forgot all about it until a few days later. He said private, weren’t you suppose to report to me the other day? I said yes sir the private was told but the private forgot. He laughed and that was the end of it. When we finally progressed to the week of the rife range I was ecstatic. I grew up on a farm along the Mississippi river, and My dad was an excellent shot and had taught me to shoot a rifle when I was about eight years old. I hunted our woods ,and always had squirrel and rabbit for my Mother to cook up. As I expected I was a star on the rifle range. Each recruit had a coach and the coach would help you adjust your sites for different distances and wind conditions. Up a click, two clicks to the left etc, until you were shooting predictable. I was shooting better than predictable, I was dead on. The day of qualification, we rode to the range in the cattle cars, which were semi trailers with seats made to haul troops around camp Pendelton.disembarked and made our way down the firing line to our assigned spot, I looked around for my coach and he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Sergeant Joy walked down the line --stopped and told me that my coach was given another assignment for that day and that he would be my spotter coach. I got a sick feeling in my stomach, as I imagined what was coming. We started at 100 yards I adjusted my sites, first shot in the bulls eye in the lower right, I adjusted one click to the left , next shot center of bulls eye, on the bottom, I adjusted one click up, from then on a group right in the center. We then moved on to three hundred yards I adjusted up a few clicks, and shot in the bulls eye, a little high and again on the right, I adjusted one click down and one click to the left and filled the target with a group in the center of the bulls eye. We moved to the 500 yard and I was shooting expert, I was bound for sniper school or recon which was what I wanted. Sergeant joy then said let me see your rifle, I handed it to him and he spun the sight adjustments then threw it down in the dirt, Telling me that my rifle was filthy, as the order went out to lock and load for the final targets at 500 yards. I got down in prone position with the rifle strap wrapped tightly around my upper arm, and around my wrist, so that in the prone position the rifle would be as steady as possible. In theory when in the prone position your right elbow should be in a direct line with your left elbow. I have wide shoulders and for me that is impossible, but in Sargent joys mind he saw an infraction that needed to be corrected, so as I was lying in the prone position he walked up and jumped on my rifle .I screamed in pain, while being screamed at what a worthless puke I was that didn’t deserve to qualify, and should be sent back and made to start all over in another platoon. Sergeant Joy then told me to assume the prone position and qualify .In Pain I placed the target in my sights, exhaled then as I was slowly inhaling squeezed the trigger, Maggies drawers, meaning that I completely missed the target, I was in a Panic and asked Sergeant joy witch way the bullet hit and he said he didn’t see it shoot again, My second shot missed the target again, and this time sergeant Joy gave me the blessing of telling me that it was in the dirt to the right, I adjusted my sights five clicks up and three clicks left, I was lost because sergeant Joy had spun the adjustment and I did not know where I was. Next shot I hit the target low right, my next shot I aimed at the upper left of the target and hit in the bull’s-eye Now this is called shooting with Kentucky windage and is frowned upon, I finished my qualification by aiming not at the bulls eye but at the top left corner of the target, and ended up qualifying not as expert , but two tiers down at Marksman, eroding my dreams of Sniper school.Seargent Joy looked at me and asked did you qualify using Kentucky windage? I lied and said well, No sir, Kentucky windage is not allowed. After qualifying at the rifle range we returned to basic training, and I soon discovered that when trying to perform an order arms where you hold the rifle out and hold with your left hand and open the bolt with the right, I could not hold the rifle, I had torn ligaments in my left arm from Sergeant Joys jumping on my rifle, Sargent Joy put me on the weak squad. In spite of Sargent Joy I managed to graduate from boot camp, and went to Pendelton for Infantry training, as every marine is number one a rifleman. It was like the weight of the world was lifted off me, no Sergeant Joy. After ITR I was given a MOS of 3500 truck driver, I stayed at Pendleton for truck driving school. I was a natural, having grown up on a farm and driving twin stick Macks for Bremco mills in the summer before I enlisted. I breezed through schools battalion. Home for a two week leave my orders were to report to Staging Battalion for assignment in Viet Nam. The two weeks went fast, I reported for Staging battalion, and Met Wieakki. Wieakki was a full blooded apache Indian, going to Nam for his fourth tour, We instantly hit it off an he became my teacher, and buddy. The night of War games we infiltrated behind enemy lines climbed the mountain and walked up to the CO and said bang your dead, he wasn’t amused. He taught me a lot and after we deployed, I never saw him again, but I did check the wall and his name isn’t on it. I arrived by passenger jet at the De Nang airfield, and when we stepped off the plane the 100% humidity and 120 degree temperature hit you in the face and took your breath away. As we disembarked the chain link fence that separated the tarmac from the terminal was lined by short timers waiting for their ride home on the “freedom bird” many of them called out with cat calls and encouraging words like” you are going to die” ha ha ha. I began my tour at headquarters battalion first battalion thirteenth Marines. As I unpacked I pulled out several Hot Rod magazines, and the sargent said you know how to work on cars? I said yes, he said good you are our new mechanic. I worked in the motor pool for the first month .One day a couple trucks came pulling in and they were covered with dust, and the guys were just as filthy, all wearing bush hats . I talked to them and found they were with Kilo 4/13 out at a firebase In An Hua. I requested a transfer the next day. The first day at Kilo The sargent told me to get up on top of a Five ton and with a pickaxe and break the steel bands holding the pallets of 155 howitzer shells together so they could be unloaded , a couple guys from the gun were there to help me at first but then they said fire mission and they took off leaving me on top of the truck swinging that pickaxe. I saw the turret of the gun swing around until it was pointed directly over my head but I was busy and it was hot so I didn’t really pay much attention. I heard Stand by fire . One thing about Kilo battery was that when they had a fire mission all the guns six in all would fire at exactly the same time. It was awesome, however when you are directly in front of the muzzle blast It feels more like the world has come to an end. It blew me clear off the truck ,but other than ,my pride from being so stupid and a severe ringing in my ears I was ok. The guys told me that they had been getting rockets and mortars regularly and I asked what a rocket sounds like, not to confuse with the sounds of the guns, I was told don’t worry you will know. The first morning of a rocket attack, I woke to the sound of a screaming train roaring through the hootch.we grabbed our rifles, bandeliers,helmets flak jackets and headed out towards a bunker ,where I saw a white hot gear like out of a transmission rolling across the ground. It seems they would use anything they could find and use it as shrapnel in the rockets. As it turned out that morning, Pappy from gun six spotted the muzzle flash of the rocket as it was launched from the side of the mountain he contacted FDC and with the lieutenants go ahead; barrel sighted ,and then shot a High explosive round, and took em out. We were at An Hua for a few months and then were told that we were going to move to a place called Fire Base Ross. From Ross we could hit Cambodia to the west and the China Sea to the East. We would send a convoy to LZ Baldy once a day for an ammo run. The road was often mined and went through a village and many rice fields. I was still classified as a driver even though I was in charge of the motor pool as a mechanic and responsible for maintenance on all the trucks. Every so often I would take a truck in the convoy just to break the monotony .One particular day we went to Baldy got loaded , waited for the mine sweep then headed back. We were following an Army convoy Americal Division and as Marines we always made fun of the Doggies.The convoy stopped and all the doggies ran out into the rice paddies setting up a perimeter, we Marines just sat on the hoods of our trucks enjoying the doggies going through what looked like a training exercise’s had with me, a Guy from California named Ferris. Now Ferris like all of us was crazy, so we are sitting in the truck with the windshield open and the doors with flak jackets draped over open and to the right of us all these gooks were passing the convoy on their little Honda 50cc motorcycles. Ferris said hey watch this. He waited until this gook was almost up to the cab and shoved his flak jacket with his foot ,it sailed into the air and cleaned the gook right off that motorcycle. Then Ferris jumped down and ran up to him and started yelling at him about being a VC and trying to steal his flak jacket. Man I had never seen anything like that and I felt bad for the gook but like I said we were all crazy. One day our Navajo Indian named Harjo hit a mine that must have been just c4 with no shrapnel because it lifted the truck off the ground about four foot, and then it came down .Harjo slammed on the brakes jumped out of the truck shouted GET BACK LORETTA then jumped back in the truck without a scratch and came on home to LZ Ross. January eighth 1970 I was on guard duty at 4:30 in the morning. It was raining and I was sitting on the North wall of the bunker looking South and Dillinger was sitting on the South wall. I had placed my flack jacket behind me to act as a diversion for the rain. It started with a load scream as a rocket propelled grenade ripped into the bunker wall just to me right. It knocked me to the floor of the bunker which measured about ten ft by ten ft. I scrambled up and saw Viet Cong Zappers behind up inside our compound. I dove to the floor trying to find my rifle in the dark ,a Chi com grenade landed on the wall of the bunker and went off . I found my rifle and popped up and started shooting at the black pajama wearing sappers, hit one wearing grenades and one of them blew up that finished him, one ran up with a grenade and I got him before he could lob it into our bunker. Seventh guns had a machine gun on the top of a huge rock about twenty foot high and one of the sappers got to it and started shooting at us. So we had the machine gun and several AK’s all trying to take us out. An M79 took out the Machine gun and I spotted one sapper running toward a trailer parked beside the motor pool. I stared shooting at him and he dove under the rear axles of the trailer. By this time the sky was lit up , and morning was breaking. A platoon came down to check on us and I yelled that there was a gook under the trailer as I had been taking pot shots at him most of the night. I would watch and see an arm or a leg and squeeze one off then I wouldn’t see anything for awhile. The Sargent in the platoon had a flashlight and was looking under the trailer where I had told him the gook was hiding ,and saying no nothing there nothing then all of a sudden he yelled out Chu Hoy Mother F--r and emptied his 45 . He didn’t hit anything so we ended up with a prisoner somewhat shot up in the arms and legs. The longest night of my life . In March we received word that we were being withdrawn, Get all the vehicles ready for the ship ride home. I was in Nam when Neil Armstrong walked on the moon I heard good Morning Viet Nam every morning on the radio, and heard the music Run Through the Jungle being blasted from helicopters, I smelled the stench of death in Viet Nam,I survived and many did not. I rode on a LST ship home, with all the six 155 self propelled guns and all the trucks and jeeps in the cargo hold. Of course as luck would have it I was on guard duty when we crossed the international date line, and so I had guard duty two days in a row because it was Wednesday two days in a row. When we arrived in San Diego, there was a small greeting party of a handful of relatives of some of the crew members of the ship, and a small band playing the Marine Corp hymn. After turning over our weapons we received orders for liberty two weeks at home. I flew home and was there when Kent State happened. I just happened to be in Wapakoneta Ohio at A hangout called Minerdings. I was there with some high school buddies when some guys started getting real loud, a couple football jocks from Wapak who were in the National Guard and they were bragging about being all bad and macho for being in on the Kent State shootings. Well I never cared much for Wapak guys anyway so I just walked up and told them that as far as I was concerned they were nothing but pansies and sorry so in so’s for shooting girls. I told them that I was a Marine just back from the Nam and that I was over there fighting for those students at Kent State to insure they had the freedom to protest whatever they wanted to protest. The loudmouths shut up , you could have heard a pin drop , I turned and walked out the door. One thing I have forever; I am a United States Marine.

A little Colombian side trip

Bernarda had called the night before to make the accommodations and arrangements. I had checked the long range weather forecast and it called for rain all week in Medellin. We were going to a place called ECO PARQUE EL GAITERO ,in Santa Fe de Antioquia. About fifty miles from downtown Medellin. In my visits to Colombia this was going to be my first opportunity to get out of town, and see some countryside.
We took a taxi from the condo to the metro Poblado terminal, there we met the bus that would take us to the park. The bus was the large van type that was very similar to the bus we rode in at the Methodist mission in Costa Rica. Ten passengers plus the driver, who looked to be in his early twentys,pulled out and started our journey , it was sprinkling rain. We wound out of the city and at last we were driving through the mountainous countryside.Approxamately twenty miles out we came to a tunnel. I have been through many tunnels in the US but never one three and a half miles long. They could hold a 5k race in the tunnel and the runners would never see the light of day. We stopped at a small restaurant fuel stop in the town of Saint Jeronimo called the Bomba Texaco. We had some hot chocolate and some very tasty made on site rolls Called almojabana pandequesos
.Everyone loaded back up in the bus ,It was still sprinkling off and on, we resumed our journey. Roughly twenty more miles and we turned of the paved road onto a gravel narrow road that would take us around and down the mountain to our destination. Some beautiful sites but with the rain on the windows of the bus it did not make for good picture taking. As soon as we pulled into the parking lot the rain stopped and the sun came out ;beautiful. We headed for the restaurant and had a cup of coffee, then walked down to the lake and picked up a couple cane poles and some bait .We walked to a spot that looked good and tried our luck. These poles had a couple pegs that the line wound around and If you were an expert like Bernarda you could make that cane pole act very similar to a fly rod and cast with it.Bernarda said just one moment, and walked back to the pavilion coming back with a bucket for the fish we were going to catch---optimist. We fished for awhile watching others reel in fish after fish but for us it was looking like we were only to be fish feeders and not fish catchers. After awhile we picked up our gear and headed to one of the other lakes as this one had become extremely crowded. We walked back the growing lake where the smaller ones were protected and no fishing was allowed, A worker was manually removing algae that was floating on the lake as we walked by. Approaching the next lake we saw an area that looked like it would suit us fine .No other people close and a nice shade tree. We soon found out why no-one else has captured our spot as the journey traversing around to it, was very slippery and treacherous. We soon claimed our spot and began fishing .I had my bait stolen a couple of times and then I had one, It looked like what we call a brim. Soon Bernarda had a fish on her line and It was a small mouth bass. I caught another ,then Bernarda caught a really nice Talapia.We fished for a while longer but it had warmed up and I think the fish that we were fishing for all went to the bottom in the middle of the lake. We were visited by five long eared Brahma crossed cows that were curious to see what we were doing but as I talked to them and approached they scattered and wanted no part in us. We took our fish to the fishing pavilion and they gutted them and weighed them and we paid 9100 pesos for our fish.(about $4.00)
It was time for lunch so we headed to the restaurant and had some very good chicken and rice with salad and beans. With a citrus mango drink. After we ate Bernarda checked on a guided horseback tour of part of the park and we had a half hour to kill so we walked and watched people, always an entertaining thing to do.
It was time for our horse back tour so we walked on over to the stables. I was reminded of my cousin Allen who lived on my home farm (where I was raised).Allen had several Arabian horses all beautiful and some more spirited than others. The first time Allen talked me into riding ,he had a young gelding named Riaad An Arabic name not sure of the spelling. Allen Saddled him up and then told me that he would ride him across the dike and back to get him calmed down a bit then I could ride him. As soon as Allen cleared the saddle Riaad took off like he was chasing the wind. They galloped to the other side of the dike ,Allen turned him and they blistered back across the dike, and up the hill skidding to a stop as Allen jumped off and said ok Your turn. Allen and I grew up together and he knew that I was one half fool hardy and the other half crazy, So of course he knew that I would hop right on. With Riaads eyes doing a little dance going around in circles, I hoisted my leg almost halfway over the saddle when he took off at a full gallop. My legs never did get in the stirrups so I just wrapped them around his neck and held on. We soon were at the other end of the dike, Riaad whirled around and without missing hardly a beat we were once again at a full gallop across the dike, up the hill ,past Allen, as I was pulling back on the reins yelling whoa---whoa across the yard ,across the driveway and under the clothes; line. Needless to say we both did not fit .
With those thoughts in my head we walked to the stables. The wrangler brought a horse around for Bernarda and held the horse while Bernarda effortlessly sprang into the saddle. He then brought My horse around and I eyed it suspiciously. He held it I threw my leg over the saddle no problem, We eased out of the stables and started down the trail It was plain that my horse liked to be in the lead so I just gave it rein and let it pick its own way through the rocks and down the trail . I came to the conclusion that the horse knew where to go so I let it. As it turned out we had a wonderful ride ,lots of fun and many pictures. We got back to the stables and Bernarda got off her horse and jokingly said ouch
Ouch lol.
We walked from the stables to the main area and headed for the changing rooms to put on swimming suits. After a nice leisurely time in the pool it was time for us to get our things together and load up in the bus.
I did get some pictures coming back out as we climbed and rewound around the mountain but the road was so rough it was tough to get clear ones. When we got to the main road A Young guy came up to the bus, obviously knowing the driver, he asked for the driver to pick up two ladies in Saint Jeronimo and the driver said ok. We headed back and when we arrived in Saint Jeronimo. We pulled off the side of the road and called. He then received directions and we drove through the little town passing many people carrying small crosses. We drove through town stopped and asked directions once ---turned around --sat outside a house and honked the horn. We started back into town ,the phone rang and the driver turned the bus around again drove back to where we had turned around--and there were the ladies now waiting alongside the road. We picked them up the started back into town but only got to the edge when all traffic was stopped. The priest carrying a long staff, with all his parishioners and a small band were parading through the main street of town from the Church to ?. It began sprinkling rain as we crept along behind the precession , they turned and once again we were on our way. A short stop at the Bomba Texaco and the rain started falling heavily. It was dark now and the rain and darkness made visibility poor. We came around a corner and just in time the driver hit the brakes and we then moved slowly through mud and rocks from a mudslide. We traveled along where once the water was actually running across the road ,and a couple places where rocks the size of a large grapefruit were strewn across the highway. Once we arrived at the tunnel and went thru the weather improved and the rain slowed. We arrived in the outskirts of Medellin when a large bus the size of a Greyhound bus pulled into the road in front of us and forced us to stop. I had been extremely proud of our driver up to this point.
Our driver decided that he would make known to the driver of the large bus his displeasure so at the first opportunity he sped in front of the bus and then hit his brakes. Apparently the driver of the large bus not to be outdone then when we were beside started moving over until our driver had to hit his brakes to avoid hitting the bus or the inside curb. We were now on a four lane road ,Our driver sped around the bus --got in front and then at the next light waited until it turned green and just sat there. We then drove on the large bus turned off and the excitement was over. Like something out of an action movie--ha--only in Colombia. We were dropped of at metro terminal then took the metro to Poblado terminal, caught a cab to the apartment, Put the fish in the freezer, turned on the TV, and Chilled.

An Imagination is a terrible thing to waste

When I was growing up on the farm, I had two sisters .Linda and Luan.Since Sisters did not always see the true greatness in their brothers Ideas most of the time, I was left to my own amusement quite a bit.
We had a large dairy barn, built by my Uncle Estile Baker and his brother who together owned Baker lumber company. In this barn I found adventure mystery and constant strife as I fought off Indian attacks in the hay mow, while hiding from roving bands of outlaws, As it seems they were always just on the other side of the wall, Looking for a hideout after their latest bank job.
The hay in the haymow, when strategically stacked and moved around formed tunnels that I hid in as I fought the Nazis on my hit and run missions with the Farm country underground.
Off to the west of the barn just past the open field of Brome grass lay a small wooded area, just crammed full of Rabbits squirrels, and Sioux who would chaise me as I ran down the cow paths to safety. If you went out of the woods to the double ponds, there was a culvert that ran clear under the dyke, under the gravel road to a ravine, this culvert was my escape tunnel, from the concentration camp as long as I kept quiet and made sure I was unseen. Luck have it there happened to be a mulberry tree right there along the escape route to provide sustenance for someone like myself who had been let to starve in the camp. The ravine led to other woods which if you followed the cattle trails down, and down and down you ended up at Jenkins creek, And you know there were river pirates, that came right off the Mississippi up bear creak to Jenkins creek, and that is where they hid the treasure. In addition, along the waters edge some of the rocks and gravel looked suspiciously like gold and silver, probably what was left of the Army Payroll taken by the James gang, and then given to the local people to help them through the hard times after the war?
Along the creek was a rock wall that in the winter would form huge Icesicles some 30 ft tall, My Dad would caution us to not get too close as if one broke off it would crush you. However ---If you looked real close you could see hidden passageways behind the ice that led to countless hidden rooms and hideouts for all the notorious gangsters that were coming down from Chicago.
We had one Farm actually between the river and the levee; we called the river farm, on the river farm an old cabin stood, undoubtedly one of the hideouts for Jesse and Frank James. When the corn was high in the summer, no one would ever find them. Bear creek made a horseshoe right there at the cabin, and along the banks was a cherry tree, knowing how The James family loved Cherry pie, it only made sense they would hide out here.
Fifty years pass, The Barn was sold to a company in Louisiana that dismantled it, moved it down close to the red river and re constructed it using it as an upscale antique store. The Cabin was burned down years ago, they never really found out who set it on fire, Speculation was vagrants building a campfire on the wood floor and just burning the whole place to the ground. But in the back of my mind---Someone was covering up, and did away with the evidence LOL

Tracy’s 120MPH Beauty Scar

My mother and father in law enjoyed coming out to our farm with friends and camping around our man made two and a half acre lake. Karen and her Mom had made supper, Fresh green beans cooked over the campfire in a big ole pot held over the fire by a tri pod This particular summer evening as we all lazed around after supper, The girls were all playing down at the campsite and Their uncle Rickie was hitting stone with an old axe handle into the lake. The Dogs Buffy and Sissy were both watching and trying to run and fetch the rocks only to stop at the edge of the lake as they were batted in. I was up at the house carrying something or other down the hill to the campsite, When I saw the turn of events unfold as though in slow motion.
I saw Uncle Rickie throw a rock into the air,---at the same time Tracy, my three year old ran up to him from behind. I yelled out but it was too late as the axe handle swung with terrific force into my little girls face. I ran down the hill and swooped Tracy into my arms, and ran with her up to the house. She was bleeding badly, and Karen applied pressure with some clean towels, It was determined that we would make an emergency run to the Hospital. My Dad had just bought a new Buick 225, and instead of trading his old 225 in, he had given it to us. I helped Karen who was holding Tracy in her lap, into the back seat ,and I fired the Buick up and backed around ,and headed down the driveway throwing gravel all the way out to the main road. The hospital was approximately Thirty miles away and we made it in fifteen minutes. I had always been notorious as a teenager for my fast cars and fast driving, what I can say is that night, all the fast driving experience paid off. When we pulled into the hospital they were waiting as my Mother in Law had called ahead, so they met us with stretchers just like on Mash. Of coarse, I would not leave Karen or my little girl’s side, and It tore my heart apart when the doctor was stitching her face up and she kept crying out for her Daddy.
Her Mom passed away when she was eight; it was a real journey as all three girls grew up to be fine young women. Therefore, even though it has been very difficult at times, I have always tried to be there for her and her sisters during the roughest times.
Today Tracy is the Mom of Three Boys who definitely had their share of cuts, bruises and broken bones. I am still involved somewhat in each of the three girls lives, Sometimes not as much as I would have hoped, and sometimes a little too close for comfort ,As life goes on. Ironically Tracy now works for an orthopedic surgeon, scheduling surgeries for her boss. I hope that so Dads do not have to make 120+ MPH runs to the emergency room.

The Dentist Office

When I was fourteen years old I volunteered to ride along with my Mom one evening, to go to the High school and pick up my older sister from GAA volleyball practice. At first this really doesn’t sound like it has anything to do with the dentist, but hang on the story really takes a turn.
We picked up my sister and one of her friends who lived in Ursa, Illinois. It was drizzling rain, and the windshield wipers of our 1961 Olds eighty eight, seemed to be tapping out a beat, and the radio was on WLS, A.M. in Chicago.....we were not aware of the life changing events that were just about to take place.
On our way home we watched the oncoming headlights approaching in the drizzling rain. In an instantaneous moment we saw the approaching headlights suddenly go from straight ahead, to shooting straight up in the air, almost as if the vehicle was doing a wheelie. Then suddenly a car shot out from behind the seemingly “star seeking” headlights, and came directly into our path.
There was a tremendous crash….I heard my Mom cry out in pain….I was hurled forward into the dashboard and then the windshield.....silence.....then groans…..I struggled to adjust and tried to focus on where I was and what had just happened......we had been involved in a terrible four car accident!
I checked on Mom to see if she was alright.......her leg was badly hurt.....my sisters were okay. I struggled to crawl out the window so I could flag down an oncoming car. I then ran back behind our car where I saw a pickup truck......the one who's headlights had shot up into the air just before our crash. To my horror I saw that it was embedded in the front end of a Corvair that contained three girls from our high school. I was to later find out that only one of the girls would survive. One of the girls that died was my sister Linda's best friend. The other was a cheerleader at our school......she and I always flirted with each other.....their necks were broken.
I had flagged down the first car that came upon the scene and blurted out the obvious (that there had been an accident)....it was unknown to me at the time, but I was completely covered with blood, having a broken arm, and my four upper front teeth knocked completely out, and my bottom jaw was broken, and one tooth was sticking out through a hole in my chin. I then ran back from the Corvair and pickup, to our car so I could check on my Mom again.
One of our neighbors recognized our car and called my Dad at home.....he beat the ambulance there.......I was confided in later, when I asked my Dad how fast he was driving his Buick Electra (since he got there so quick).....he said that he wasn’t really sure how fast he was driving, that he hadn’t even looked......he only knew that he was driving the car as fast as it would go.....and that was pretty fast!!
We were taken to Blessing hospital by ambulance, where it was found My Mom had a crushed kneecap. My Older sister Linda had a broken nose, and I of course, was missing my upper four front teeth, and my lower four teeth were laying flat in my mouth, because of my broken jaw. They didn't realize until the next morning, when my arm started swelling and hurting so bad, that I also had a broken arm.
That morning will always stand out in my memory for many reasons......that was the day President Kennedy was assassinated in Dallas, Texas.....I can still remember the nurses crying when his assassination was announced on the radio. Soooooo, I'll always remember where I was on the day President Kennedy was assassinated.
That was just the beginning of many, many Dentist appointments for me. One dentist I was very thankful for was Dr. Quad, in Quincy, Ill. I was told, many years later, that Dr. Quad had done an outstanding job on my teeth. He made a mold and a partial plate for my missing upper teeth. Of course this all took a long time, because we had to wait for swelling to go down. It was a long time after Christmas before I got my partial plate.
I remember flirting with girls at basketball games and not having any front teeth.....of course I also remember I didn´t have much luck with the girls either! Later, when I played football at Heidelberg college, I would wear my mouthpiece upside down, revealing a large gap where my teeth used to be......I called it my air scoop. My teammates started calling me "Happy Tooth", because as I was always smiling.....toothless or not!
The dentist did root canals on my four bottom teeth, and he inserted silver pins. He told me at that time, that later in life, these four teeth would eventually turn black......and quite a few years ago, they did.
Through the years I’ve had a varity of dentist….even a couple who were a little strange….like the dentist in New Knoxville, Ohio. He would have me all stretched out in the chair, half upside down, and put his knee on my chest, then he would holler, “steady as she goes”! Some time after my appointment with him, I found out that he later underwent some highly supervised clinical counciling……I may have been one of his patients which pushed him over the edge…..I don’t know…..hummm?
Jackie had been doing her research and found Costa Rica doctors to be very educated, and many interned at Baylor...which for Jackie spells “Texas”, which then of course spells, “the best”! Well, anyway the credentials were there, and the price was about one third of what It would cost in Florida…..Hey, Costa Rica, here we come!
So here I am in Escazu, Costa Rica….at the dentist office…. in the waiting room….waiting…….just waiting for Jackie to get her two root canals. I’ve already had five extractions and one root canal, and Im still smiling ---go figure. I’ll leave Costa Rica with my upper and lower teeth replaced permanently---FINANLLY---AFTER ALL THESE YEARS!!!

Cowboy Real Estate The Bailout and the Peach Tree

Back in 1998 -2004 My wife and I owned a Dairy farm in Missouri
Our milk house was a three on a side /side open gate type parlor, and I milked the cows on one side and my wife the other , That is when she wasn’t line dancing to the country music we always had playing on the radio. We had developed quite a system to save energy, electrical and our own, as any fresh cows (that is a cow who had as recently as the last three days had given birth to a baby calf)that still had colostrium(milk that contains natural antibodys,for the baby calf) would be milked last after all the others. In doing it this way we could just pull the pipe that the milk ran through in to the milk tank from the milkers, out of the tank and into a bucket that we would use then as calves milk. Then when finished we would flush the lines, and wash them as usual at the end of milking.
I always kept the new mommas in a corner stall of the big barn which was about fifteen yards from the milkhouse,but on the opposite end from the holding area.
Dairy cows like to be milked. For one it takes the pressure away from a swollen udder and makes them feel good, and as an added bonus we would give them grain in the milk house as they were being milked so that always insured they would be lined up at the door ready and anxious to come in.
This particular night we had finished milking and all that was left was Katie. She was a cow that had just given birth to a beautiful registered Jersey heifer calf two days ago. The rule is you keep the new milk separate from your regular milk for the first three days so we had Katie and her calf in the main barn and I went out to bring her around and down the fenced alley into the holding pen and then into the milk house.
This particular night It was pitch black out side, and as I opened the gate Katie instead of going straight and down the alley like she had the last five milkings ,turned left, through an opening between the gate and the alleyway and headed out into an open field.
Keeping in mind the fact that I played college football, and also the fact that I was in excellent shape from carrying buckets of grain into the milk house every morning and night for the last couple years. I took off after Katie to head her off and had two steps at a full sprint when I ran flat out into a 20”around Peach tree. On that pitch black night I saw stars. Well Katie after seeing she had gone the wrong way just turned around by herself and headed down the alley into the holding pen, and through the back door into a stall and when I stumbled into the milk house she was munching ground corn and my wife was milking her and looked at me standing there with blood running down my face, and said “What in the world happened to you?”
With this bailout I’m wondering if maybe running out into the darkness, might not be the prudent thing to do, that it could be the market will see it’s going the wrong way and turn around by itself. Even though it seems like the thing that needs to be done at the moment, I certainly wouldn’t advise running without knowing for sure what’s in front of you. It could be a Peach tree.

Cowboy Real Estate the Squeeze Chute

When working cattle one of my jobs was usually running the squeeze chute. You pen the cattle first then usually(If the pens were built right, )You worked the cattle counter clock wise around in to smaller and smaller pens until you are at an alley way leading to bright sunlight for the cow ---but really they have to get through the squeeze chute first. The reason they see all this light like at the end of a tunnel is that you have the squeeze chute gate open for them to look through. Once they have their horns through you have to slam the gate shut quick or they will bust right on through. You can’t be day dreaming if you are running the chute. If a cow would bust through the chute it doesn’t get worked --as to say we wouldn’t be able to give it the preventative medicines and fly control we give them for their own good and health. So actually even though the cow doesn’t understand --Getting caught up in the chute is a good thing for the cow.
I was watching the commercial expired list right before the forth of July and saw a ten thousand sq. ft. warehouse listed for 1.1mil had expired. A lady in my office had told me that she had a buyer for exactly that so I sent the owners of record a letter.
The July fourth weekend came around and I went up to Rainbow River and floated the river with my kids and just kicked back. Bright and early on Monday morning I drove over to the warehouse to walk around it and see where in the world it sat. That is to say where it sat in relation to the world outside .Just something I do on land Was Taught that years ago .
I saw a sign on the front door saying where the prior occupants had moved and low and behold it was the same name as the owning company, so I headed on over to their new location to see what I could find out.
I walked into the showroom counter sales area and stood patiently in line and when the person behind the counter asked me if he could help me, I responded that yes I was going to be easy ,Who do I need to talk to concerning your old warehouse, I am in Commercial Real Estate. He told me the asst manager would be the one who could help me, and walked me over to an office door. The asst manager was on the phone so I stood outside the door and waited for him to hang up. I introduced myself and told him why I was there and asked him for a contact name and phone number at the main office of the decision maker. He gladly obliged and commented that It was over priced and that the owner of the building they were in presently had made an offer considerably less than the listing price. I thanked him gave him my card and asked him to pass it along to anyone he cared about that might need some real Estate help, and headed home.
When I got home I called the number and got a recording, so I left my number and said I would be calling again before the day was through. I called again later in the afternoon and got a lady who was not sure if the property had been relisted but promised to find out and call me back.
The next morning I called and left a message .Later in the morning a gentleman from that company called me and said “I know we have spoken before and I thought you were sending a listing proposal to me” I not thinking said Oh no I don’t believe we have spoken before but I would be glad to send you a listing proposal. He then told me that they were listing it with one of my competitors(MY Guess the company that apparently was day dreaming). I thanked him and then said By the way what price are you listing it at? He told me and it was 325thousand less than what it was listed at before I thanked him and hung up.Immediately redialing and getting the receptionist “What is your fax number?” I wrote up a listing agreement, at the price it was lowered to and faxed it off. I guess you could say I slammed shut the chute.-------I am showing it Monday morning at 10:00.---

Cowboy Real Estate--Step back and Take a look at your Resources

Back in the early nineties the Real Estate market was just rolling along at an even keel not much happening, not much fluctuation. I went along with another Broker to a listing appointment, as It was closer to my home than the listing Broker, and It was a Horse farm.
I am not an authority on Horses by any means. In fact, rather than use horses the old traditional way to gather up cattle I used the low stress approach, of a feed sack, and as long as the cattle were familiar with me, it worked pretty good. To me even though I defiantly qualify as a real cowboy, as far as I was concerned you can leave the horses over in the next county on a horse farm, as that way I won’t get kicked, bit, or run under a clothes line , but that was all in the past and a different story and I’m getting off the subject.
We pulled in the driveway and Bob, the Broker who was taking the listing started telling me the background story of the place. Seems as though a divorce was involved and the wife was selling the place to move into town.
We pulled up to the house and a nice lady came out to greet us .As introductions were made, we went into the house to look at it and find out a little more about what the motivation for the sale truly was. It seems that this place was her lifelong dream, and it was just tearing her apart to part with it. She went on to tell us about her background, in equine husbandry(that’s taking care of horses to you city people)and I was impressed of her knowledge and experience. We then walked out to the stables where she explained how a new buyer could rent the stables and charge fee’s for the feeding, grooming and exercising of over twenty horses. We walked behind the stables where she had a new exercise ring built, and she explained its operation. All and all I was so impressed, with the facilities, and the well thought out business plan she laid out for the buyer to enable them to cash flow the farm that When I had a moment to confer with Bob the listing broker in private ---I said why doesn’t she implement her own plans for herself? He said simply, she can’t picture herself in her own mind doing what she so plainly see’s someone else doing.
Sometimes it is easier for us to look at someone else’s problems. Someone else’s financial,challenges,and someone elses,family disfunctions,because when looking at someone else we aren’t emotionally blinded, to the obvious.
So I hope that I can somehow remember. when pondering an issue , when trying to make the right decision, When feeling somewhat overwhelmed.---Just take two steps back,and get under whelmed. Let go, and take a good look at the big picture. Opening my eyes to realize all the possibilities and resources I have at my disposal .
Then picture myself Implementing the corrective measures needed to keep moving ahead towards the completion of my goals.

I Wonder if the Bucs are Hiring

Some people make it a career ,others get to live the life for several years ,most only a few, and some never at all. I’m talking about playing the game of football.
I started playing when I was probably eight years old with my older first cousin ,Allen and anyone else we could get to play.
My cousin Allen was three years older than me and considering the fact that I really didn’t start growing until my freshman year of high school, I was very small compared to everyone else. This mandated the necessity of becoming fast quick, elusive and mean, I excelled.
There was a game we played at our grade school that by today's standards would probably be deemed politically incorrect, as it pitted the mob against one. The name of the game was politically incorrect as it was called Black man. The game started out with one person (it )and in the center .Our playground had a fence on each side so the fences were base. The object was to run from one base to the base on the other side of the play ground without being tagged(or tackled if we were playing tackle).As each person was tagged(or tackled) they too would be the hunters till at the end you had a mob all trying to get one person. That person was usually me as this type of game honed my running back moves survival instinct ,and technique.
When I started my Freshman year in high school I finally got to play the game .Even though I could outrun all the running backs I was so fast explosive and mean that the coach put me on the line as Strong side guard on offence and weak side guard on defense. I quickly developed a preference to defense ;as on defense I got to go after the quarterback. One memorable play the strong side guard pulled to block for the halfback .As soon as the ball was snapped I shot across and of course the guy I usually hit wasn’t there he was pulling to the right behind the line preparing to block for the halfback who was running on the other side of the quarterback with the intentions of pitching to the halfback who was running around the right end. The play book somehow forgot to take into consideration a little farm kid who grew up playing football with all the older kids and was fast and meaner than …well you know.
I shot through the hole left by their guard, I grabbed the quarterback’s shoulder pads with one hand and half jumped half catapulted myself over him and slammed that halfback into the ground for a loss. The whole time the coach was screaming ,(That’s what you! are suppose to do)to everybody on the sidelines. I became particularly fond of playing kickoff and return special teams as I got more than my share of tackles. I played both offense and defense on the freshman team some games with only a couple plays on the sidelines before coach would put me back in, I hated the sidelines as I wanted to be in there. We were undefeated and I played the rest of the Jr varsity schedule and was one of only four freshman the coach let dress for the last varsity game of the season. Ironically the last varsity game The coach pulled my cousin who was a senior out of the game and put me in as his replacement. I forgot to mention the fact that as a freshman I weighted 120 pounds, and was only five foot two. Allen to this day says that it was a proud moment for him .
The same team I played with as a freshman, won the state football championship as seniors, but I was not with them.
My dad because of several reasons two which were farm commodity prices, and an opportunity to ease into retirement, took a job which took me away from my beloved river bottom farm, my cousins which I had grown up with and football, which for me was the most important thing on this earth. We moved over the summer to a small town in Ohio that did not offer football. I would find a ride to St Marys on Friday nights to watch them play football, On Sunday afternoons I found a that a bunch played tackle on the football field So yes I was there playing tackle football with no pads. The good thing was that no one could catch me. We usually played until someone was bleeding I made some lifelong friends out there beating each other up on Sunday afternoons out behind the High school.
I excelled at track and cross country, having some records that have stood even until my daughters were in high school ,however my main goal through all the track and all the running in cross county was to stay in shape for football college style.
I was accepted to Heidelberg college in Tiffin Ohio, and upon arriving went straight to the athletic department to introduce myself.. And they said who? From where? Never heard of you are you sure you are in the right building? I said yes I wanted to play football, and the coach told me that all the football players were there on scholarship, so you know they would be playing the chances of me playing were not good ,But they had no Idea the desire they were looking at.
\I Picked up all my equipment and practice uniforms and put everything in my assigned locker, then showed up for practice. I can imagine what all the other players thought .
At Heidelberg The way the varsity practices for its opponent each week is by running against the offence of he team we were playing that week from the films the scouts had brought back .The assistant coaches (One of which was coach Gruden--Jon Gruden of the Bucs Dad)would have us (the slaughter squad)Run the plays of the opposing team and the Varsity would try to stop us --Well all well and good except a halfback like me If I blew through the line for a huge gain the coach would say run that play again A) they know where I’m going coach B) That’s why they called it the slaughter squad.
I ended up catching the eye of the varsity coach because of my hard hitting and ended up playing special teams and backup halfback behind a guy names Simone who was an all state halfback from Niles McKinley high school In Cleveland.
We were getting ready to play Whittenberg and so we were running their plays . The coach called a play where I got the ball and ran between the guard and the tackle well I blasted through and ended up breaking through for a touchdown. The coach blew the whistle and started yelling at the Line backers then said run it again. When I hit the hole I had run through the play before I was met by zippy a 280 lb 6’4”defensive end and all the rest of the defense. Zippy hit me so hard that I ended up straight up and down with just my feet sticking out of the top of the pile and Zippy with a bloody nose where his face guard has cut his nose. Head coach Malmusar yelled Shriver if you can run the next play I’m starting you next year, I ran the next play but by next year I was on my way to south East Asia and Viet Nam I had joined the Marine corps.
I guess for most people that would be the end of the story but for circumstance it would be for me also.
Thirty years pass and My wife and I are milking sixty head of Jersey dairy cows on two hundred twenty acres in Missouri. We (After a successful Real Estate career in Florida) had sold our properties in Florida and basically moved to the Missouri Ozarks to raise cattle and retire. Our milk house had a large grain tank outside but was missing the flex auger that was originally there So I improvised with three large garbage cans in the pit that we scooped grain a scoop at a time for them when they were actually being milked. I carried grain in to fill The garbage cans every morning and evening in two five gallon buckets in the milk house ,down five steps into the parlor pit empty the buckets then back for more until the garbage cans were all full. This was my daily workout so needless to say I was in good shape. One of my neighbors came over as I was preparing to milk one afternoon and watched me as I carried those buckets trip after trip ,carrying those heavy buckets down the steps over and over, I just looked at him as he was shaking his head and I said to him--- I’m not Amish, I’m just poor.---
We were at the local high school football homecoming game when a friend of my wife’s nephew named Garrett Paulette looked over at me and said hey are you going to play in the alumni game tomorrow? I said why I didn’t Graduate from here ,and he said that they were short on players and asked me to come play he said his uncle was playing and he was almost as old as I was so I said sure. Turns out his uncle was playing but his uncle was in his thirties and I was fifty.
I was there the next morning at the high school locker room, signed the waver, paid my twenty dollars for insurance, and was issues my equipment full pads ,helmet, been a long time lets see where do all these pads go?
I played, and I hit hard ,I lined up across from Garretts uncle and he lasted about two plays then moved to the other side of the line .I found out that most of the guys that played had graduated only a couple years ago, and they really hit hard. I was able to get rid of a lot of pent up aggression and frustration that day ,I had such a great time I actually played two more years until the last year I had a couple ribs get broken as I got clipped, and that was the end of my football career. Well maybe,---who knows ,Maybe Jon Gruden will read this and want to use me for one play. Yeah that’s it I’m only fifty nine I bet I can still run one more play.

You can call me Cap'n

In the movie Lonesome Dove A scene involving Cap’n Call the trail boss and retired Texas Ranger played by Tommy Lee Jones, His Son Newt, Played by Rickey Schroeder, and a US Calvary unit, captured my imagination the first time I saw it and continued to make an impression, there after.
In the scene the army officer confronts one of the cowboys at the livery stable in town, and wants to requisition his horse. The cowboy tells the army officer the horse isn’t for sale and the officer, wanting to show his authority, infers that to refuse the army that particular horse would be treason, and proceeded to try to take the horse by force. When the cowboy is knocked down “Newt” grabs the reins and reiterates that the horse is not for sale. The Army scout at that time begins flogging Newt with his crop as the “Cap’n” is walking out of the store down the street. The Cap’n drops the sacks of corn meal he was carrying as he see’s his Son being flogged by the Army scout, jumps on his horse and at full gallope down the street and crashes into the Army scouts horse throwing the scout to the ground. What followed was one of the most intense and brutal exibititions of pure rage I had ever seen as the Cap’n first beat the scout with a branding iron then ran him head first into an Anvil. He then picked up a pair if tongs with deadly intent only to be roped by his friend Gus and after some rather fast talking and a lot of yelling to bring the Cap’n back to earth so to speak, the capt’n settled down checked Newt and everyone on his crew to make sure they were all right ,Mounted his horse and then calmly said to the startled onlookers” I hate rude behavior in a man,--------- I won’t tolerate it”.

So I was a Marine .Well shouldn’t say was you know once a Marine always a Marine anyway,when I came home from “ITR”(Infantry Training Regiment) for my leave right before going over To Viet Nam. My sister picked me up from the airport with a stranger in tow ,whom she introduced as her Fiancé. She proudly and innocently added that Rich was also in the service. If you know anything about Marines you know that they scorn all the other branches of the service and especially loath the lax, undisciplined, anybody can be one Air Force.
So I took one look at her brand new fiancé’s and said whats he in the Air Force ? She very apologetically said Yeeeeees. So we drive home and as soon as we walk in the house this new guy calls my Dad Dad. My blood boiled.
Keep in mind that I grew up on a farm where I was the only son. I had worked side by side with my Dad ever since I was six years old. I had weeded beans, in the hot August sun in the gumbo river bottoms, I had plowed and disced the fields from early morning till after dark, I had paid the price, over and over, for years, Where was this guy coming from where He thought that he had any right to call MY DAD Dad.
Years after that, I relayed the story to my daughters and apparently that story made an impression because at my oldest daughter Tracy’s wedding after my new Son In Law had kissed the bride and I offered my hand to shake he said well Dad and my daughter said -real hush hush, -Oh No you don’t want to call him that So he looked at me and said “well what do you want me to call you?” I looked him straight in the eyes and said You can call me cap’n.
The story doesn’t stop there, Fourteen years later, I am at my daughter and Son In Laws house and my middle daughter brings her new boy friend over to meet the family. In the course of the evening, while playing darts Kristy’s boyfriend calls me Cap’n.I guess when my Son in-law picked him up and threw him on top of the bicycles on the other side of the garage He found out the hard way that he hadn’t earned the right. Hmmm I guess my Son in law felt the same way I did all those years ago, and I understood. Of course that guy that happened to make that innocent mistake---well he never came around anymore go figure.

The Grow House

As Vice Pres, acquisition for Flag development My first assignment was to find developable Florida real Estate to invest approximately thirty million dollars. Of course that was the fun part of my job.
One of my responsibilities with Flag development ,after we had all The land bought, was interim use. Coming from an agricultural background ,that was a pleasant job for the most part, however there were snags from time to time.
We had 560 acres in West Palm Beach, which I would travel down and pretty much just make sure no one dumped trash on it.
The two thousand acre Orlando site I had a hunt club ,and a cattle lease going on it making sure we received an ag exemption so holding cost were kept as low as possible.
The Lakeland property I had the previous owner lease back for cattle, did some sod harvesting and also some timber.
The headache as it turned out was the Brown Ranch ,Halfway between Zephyrhills and I-75,as it had the only house on all the land we bought.
I had a cattle lease worked out on the land and the previous owner, had one of his employee’s in the house, and then the guy moved out. I was informed by our insurance company that sitting empty the house liability insurance would triple so----I ran some adds.
I had a call from a guy saying he was interested in renting the house and made arrangements to meet him. When he pulled in I could see he brought the whole family. It was he ,his wife and three small children, they were driving an older Cadillac Eldorado,the car was clean inside and out that can tell you sometimes how they take care of there house. They liked the house and we came to an agreement on rent and they were to move in the next day. Problem solved or so I thought. A few weeks went by and we received the Electric bill and it seems they had never had it switched over to their names ,so My wife drove over to the house to give them the bill and to tell them to get it switched over pronto. When she pulled in she could see that no-one was home .She went to the back door and saw that someone had covered the glass with black plastic on the inside. She had a key, so she unlocked the door to investigate and was met with a strong Odor. Stepping in the house she saw no furniture and the upstairs was completely blocked off with black plastic around the stair well. She pulled the plastic aside and was almost blinded with bright light coming from the upstairs and as she made her way to the top of the stairs she was greeted by the sight of pot after pot of pot with drip hoses going into each one, and huge stadium lights acting as the artificial sun on this indoor growing field. She made her way quickly downstairs, now fearful they might come back and find her there. She went back out side to her car and called the Sheriff on her cell phone.
When the Sheriff got there they removed over 50 plants. No arrests were ever made as the real nice guy with the nice family I rented the house to, said he sublet it to someone else and he of course was no-where to be found.
This all happened in the late 80’s so they were pioneers, I know that it is a lot more prevalent now. So if you have rentals might want to watch for tell tale clues, high electric bills, no-one ever home, lack of furniture, because over and above the legality issue, a grow house is high heat and super high humidity and will wreck your property.

The Boogey Man

I was laying on my stomach on top of the levee In the darkness, watching ,waiting, Because we knew they were coming.
Phil Schultz and I had volunteered to go on a more or less recon mission . I had the only bike ,and It was my families farm. Actually it was what we called it the River farm, as It laid between the levee and the Mississippi river. All in all it consisted of around 600 acres of the best soil Iowa could send down the river. Every spring and sometimes in the late fall the river would come up and deposit some more silt or top soil on our land. Sometimes in the spring we got the crops in late sometimes not at all, but when It worked out to our advantage weather and river wise we had killer corn and soybean yields.
But we weren’t down there working the farm this night. We were a part of the junior youth group at Calvary Baptist Church in Quincy, and the rumor was the senior youth group led by a notorious prankster, who was rumored to have been a professional wrestler called the masked marvel, Was going to bring his band of cut throats( the senior youth group)Down to terrorize us and we were bound and determined to be ready. His real name was Buster Mcfeters and he was the leader of the senior youth group.
Phil and I had made our way from the cabin to the only way in or out. A dirt road lined on each side by huge fields of towering corn. It was just turning dark and the late October wind made the seven to eight foot tall corn sway and crackle. I thought we would see headlights as the river bottoms stretched totally flat for twelve miles until it reached the towering bluffs. Well we waited for about a half an hour, and no headlights coming down that single flat gravel road--they must not be coming. Time to head back to the cabin where everyone else was and maybe have a couple hot dogs or something this recon work can make a guy hungry.
I hopped on my bike and Phil got on the back and we headed back down the dirt road toward the cabin. The road went straight from the levee for about an eighth of a mile and then it turned a ninety degree angle and went on up to the cabin .We had just made the turn and were only fifty yards from the cabin when all of a sudden someone ran out from the cornfield right next to me screaming.
I jumped over the handlebars of that bike and hit the road running. I left poor ole Phil right there on that bike and he was too scared to pedal. I sprinted the fifty yards to the cabin ,yanked the screen door open just as a water balloon burst through the screen, and a cherry bomb exploded behind me. I jumped inside the cabin just as a cherry bomb exploded inside the wood stove. They had gotten on the roof and dropped it down the chimney.
The preachers son Dave Bower had his bb gun as did a couple others so they grabbed them and out the door we went running for the cover of a small woods just about fifty yards from the cabin. As we headed for the cover we were chased by countless bottle rockets, cherry bombs going off and terrifying war hoops.
There were five of us all laying still in the tall grass at the edge of the woods, waiting for the attack to be over. Finally our leader along with the group of boys that were still up by the cabin made a formal surrender, and it was over.
We sat out there for about another hour until we thought they all had left, then started around the edge of the woods. As we went past a shadow a form stood up and waved his arms., David Bower opened up with his bb gun and the others did too. The figure was making groaning noises, and they kept shooting it with bb’s just shooting and cocking shooting and cocking, finally the figure stumbled back into the woods and we all took off running back to the cabin.
Back at the cabin ,all the angels of terror were gone and we talked and laughed about the whole night.
We found out later that none of the guys that came down with the senior youth group were anywhere near the woods nor had anyone been shot at with bb guns.

The Baby Calf

One Sunday I went for a walk back into my cattle pasture behind the house ,just watching the cows as they munched on grass, and just slowly making their way around . The baby calves were either playing ,(They like to play tag,) or just lying in the sun taking a snooze, always close to their momma. I had a pond about a quarter of a mile back from the house so I ended up there. I sat down on the ground just watching the water bugs dart around, pretty soon I just laid back in the soft grass and fell asleep.
I awoke to a hot rough tongue licking my face --As I jumped up startled the baby calf took off at a run, headed for its momma. I laughed and wished I hadn’t scared the baby because what it had done was so sweet. Coming up to me so inquisitive and innocent.
Makes me wish sometimes in my own relationships I could just open one eye and relish the moment.

I Should have been a Doctor

Back when I was growing up we lived about a mile and a half from my first cousin Allen so I really didn’t have anyone my age to play with until my dad hired a new Hired man named Mr. Bradbury .Mr. Bradbury had four sons and one daughter, and they lived in the old house that my dad grew up in. All the kids were older than me but Earl, and he was about three years younger than me and a late life baby if you know what I mean? Since I didn’t want to hang out with my sisters all the time sometimes I would go over to Brads house and ask Earls mom Bessie if Earl could come along so I had somebody to do stuff with.
One day I went over and got Earl and we walked down the gravel road toward the bluff there was a hedge tree down in front of Schnelles that always had a bunch of hedge apples laying on the ground that You could hit with a stick like a baseball. We did that for awhile than I said “Hey I know where there is a mulberry tree and we can go eat Mulberries, Ole Earl always liked any Idea that I would come up with, so we headed up the road a little further and came to the Mulberry tree, climbed it and sat up there in the tree munching on Mulberries.That got old pretty quick so I said hey lets go cut through the woods and go down by the big pond and check the Apple tree out . Of course Earl was all in favor of getting out of the tree so we headed through the woods. We went on through the woods playing like we were shooting at each other, and crossed the hay field to the barn. Once to the barn, It was a really cool place to play even though I do believe my Dad had told me not to play in the barn ---In we went. We were jumping from the manger thru an open window when Earl hit his head on the top of the window opening. He was bleeding pretty bad (as head wounds do) so I remembered my first aid class in
4-H taught us to clean the wound. Off to the cow tank we went. I chased all the fly’s away (the sorghum lick was right next to the concrete cow tank) and so the water had kind of a sweet sour smell. We got his head all cleaned off with cow tank water and I said lets go get us some apples. As always Ray liked my ideas so we headed down past the hog house and down past the Chicken house to the little orchard down by the big pond. It seems the apples would never get red ripe before the birds would get to them, so we picked a bunch of green ones --so sour and good we ate a bunch.
It was about time for me to go home so we walked up to Rays house and I dropped him off at his yard and headed on home myself.
Later that night Bessie(Earls Mom) sent word over to my Mom asking what in the world we two boys did today, Earl is sick as a dog.
I was just fine must be a bug going round.

A Day in Commercial Real Estate

I was watching the commercial expired list right before the forth of July and saw a ten thousand sq. ft. warehouse listed for 1.1mil had expired. A lady in my office had told me that she had a buyer for exactly that so I sent the owners of record a letter.
The July fourth weekend came around and I went up to Rainbow River and floated the river with my kids and just kicked back. Bright and early on Monday morning I drove over to the warehouse to walk around it and see where in the world it sat. That is to say where it sat in relation to the world outside .Just something I do on land Was Taught that years ago .
I saw a sign on the front door saying where the prior occupants had moved and low and behold it was the same name as the owning company, so I headed on over to their new location to see what I could find out.
I walked into the showroom counter sales area and stood patiently in line and when the person behind the counter asked me if he could help me, I responded that yes I was going to be easy ,Who do I need to talk to concerning your old warehouse, I am in Commercial Real Estate. He told me the asst manager would be the one who could help me, and walked me over to an office door. The asst manager was on the phone so I stood outside the door and waited for him to hang up. I introduced myself and told him why I was there and asked him for a contact name and phone number at the main office of the decision maker. He gladly obliged and commented that It was over priced and that the owner of the building they were in presently had made an offer considerably less than the listing price. I thanked him gave him my card and asked him to pass it along to anyone he cared about that might need some real Estate help, and headed home.
WhenI got home I called the number and got a recording, so I left my number and said I would be calling again before the day was through. I called again later in the afternoon and got a lady who was not sure if the property had been relisted but promised to find out and call me back.
The next morning I called and left a message .Later in the morning a gentleman from that company called me and said “I know we have spoken before and I thought you were sending a listing proposal to me” I not thinking said Oh no I don’t believe we have spoken before but I would be glad to send you a listing proposal. He then told me that they were listing it with one of my competitors(MY Guess the company that had it before). I thanked him and then said By the way what price are you listing it at? He told me and it was 325thousand less than what it was listed at before I thanked him and hung up.Immediately redialing and getting the receptionist “What is your fax number?” I wrote up a listing agreement, at the price it was lowered to and faxed it off.Ill tell you tomorrow if I get a signed listing back.

Short Sales: Should We Ban Them?

A gentleman Realtor from my great state of Florida created quite a commotion in the Real Estate community when he encouraged the National Board of Realtors To Ban All Short Sales In the country.A lot of Realtors, frustrated with the whole procedure made all kinds of noise in support.After studying the situation I thought it best to just write a story to put everything in perspective.
Should we ban Short Sales---- Response----
I can understand your frustration. Looks like I need to write another chapter in "Cowboy Real Estate"
We were loading up some registered Bulls that were all destined for the Houston Livestock show. They were young all weighing approximately 400#.My Dr. Friend had made a deal with the officials that be, to take the young bulls to The prison farm in Okeechobee Florida, where the inmates would break them to lead. We had three bulls loaded when one bolted ,Knocked down a panel of our portable pens we had set up and headed for the pasture. I hopped on a 4wheeler and headed out to turn him back . Well, I got him turned around and cornered under some trees in the corner of the pasture, and the plan was to Move the cattle trailer to where we were, grab the portable pens and set them up so that we could coax the bull into the pens, trap him then shoo him on into the trailer.

The bull being a bull didn't listen to the plan apparently and as the trailer came bouncing across the pasture, he made a break for it completely toppling and end over ending an Older gentleman neighbor who just came over to help. As the bull went tearing past I jumped on grabbed him around the neck, twisted his head around and bull dogged him to the ground. I'm laying there with his head all twisted holding him down yelling bring me a rope.

Well I made a halter out of the Lasso, and half chased half drug him onto the trailer.

After all the excitement was over My Doctor friend (Who was born and raised in Texas) asked me what in the world possessed me to jump on that bull. My response was "It just seemed like what needed to be done at the time"

Maybe Short sales are frustrating, maybe they are, ugly, maybe they are difficult. But Maybe that's what needs to be done at the time..
http://shortsaleheadquarters.davidshriver.net

Dancing in the Milk House

In a fit of total insanity I left the Real Estate business in 1998,Sold my 15 acres of paradise took all my equity, and with the help of a $60000.00 Commission check, went up to the Ozarks in Southern Mo right on the Arkansas line, and bought a Dairy Farm.

I had been raising cattle in Florida since the early eighties, and had amassed a herd of around one hundred ole Florida brush cows. And four registered Romognolas,and a couple bulls.

Romanogla’s are a breed from Italy known for their double muscle, temperature tolerance and gentleness. My thoughts were to use the purebred bulls to improve my calves to the point where I had a superior herd.

My wife Margie (an animal lover --especially the babies)was all enthused about the move and so with the help of a semi, and two gooseneck cattle trailers we made the move.

It didn’t take too long to discover that we weren’t in Florida anymore, land of year round green grass, as we started having to buy hay at $30.00 a round bale ,two a day. Cash flow constantly running one way is a problem, so since we had a really nice Dairy barn, We thought; why not put it to work and purchase some milk cows, and that will be the answer to all our problems. Out with one problem in with thirty more LOL.

We decided that we wanted Jerseys, because of their high butterfat milk and their sweet dispositions. After a farm sale auction where we bought eight head, I went to a large Jersey farm cattle auction in Arkansas and bought fifty two more. So we ended up with Sixty head of Jerseys and we were in the milking business.

I took a course at Texas A&M on Artificial Insemination of beef cattle and we were on our way. At one time my Wife had twenty three baby calves all on bottles in the calf barn, she loved that part. Our cattle loved Country music and we had the music playing in the milk house during milking every day.. While in Darby Fl. Every Month we had a dance at the fairgrounds and my wife and youngest daughter Holly became quite the line dancers. So wouldn’t you know it with the cattle swaying to Brooks and Dunn the milking machines making their own music and the vacuum pump roaring in the background, I looked up from putting the milkers on a cow and there she was Dancing in the milk house.

My Little Sister and the Tin Car

When I was four years old :my Mom had my little sister. I guess she was about a year old when I ran over her with my bicycle.My parents couldn't understand why I would do such a thing, and my excuse that I just wanted to see how much of a bump she would be didn't fly. Oh well,No permanent damage that you would notice.Anyway she grew up to be a typical little sister, always the favorite, got away with everything, and was really good at laying on the poor poor me to my Mom and Dad .Then one day the Gods smiled.
I can remember it as if it were yesterday.I had been down along the creek, running like an indian, exploring, pretending I was looking for settlers in a wagon train, when I saw the corner of it over behind a rock where it had apparently floated.
It was a tin car about eight inches long and four inches wide,and just so cool a find.I proudly picked it up wiped some of the dirt off of it and headed home to show my Mom this great toy I had found all by myself.
My Mom was at the back of the house when I got up there, with of course my little sister hanging on to her dress .My Mom was suitably impressed with my find,and I was beaming when all of a sudden my little sister looked up and started screaming,gimmi that, gimmi that, My Mom told me to give her my new found toy and as I handed it over, a spider that was at least three inches across ran out of the insides of the toy car and went right up my little sisters arm, onto her neck.I can still hear the total screams of terror,the jumping, the clawing and more screaming, and I smile. Come to think of it I believe she is still afraid of spiders.

Dead Skunk In The Middle Of The Road

It had to have been in the 1950's when my confusion really started.
You see our family was a very close family where my aunts and uncles,cousins,grandparents would all get together on a regular basis. In the summertime these get together if at my uncle Russ's involve home made ice cream, and if at our house you could count on watermelon. My Dads side of the family consisted of Grandpa and grandma ,one uncle, and three aunts. We farmed with my uncle in partnerships, one aunt lived in Massachusetts, one about one hundred miles away and the other in the neighboring town where her husband owned a lumber company. My dad always liked to take everyone down into the river bottoms to show the crops to everyone, so he bought an old retired school bus, took most of the seats out so he could haul fuel in the back, but left a few rows of seats for out crop tours . Usually on a Sunday afternoon, after Sunday Dinner and Watermelon we would climb into the old Reo School bus and go for a tour of the crops.
We went to church one Sunday morning in August, close to my birthday, had a couple watermelons in the old milk cooler, and company coming for dinner. We got home from church, and my aunt and uncle from town came out my uncle Russ, and Grandpa and Grandma and all my cousins all over for fried chicken and Watermelon. That afternoon before everyone went home my Dad brought the old school bus around we all climbed in and went down into the river bottom to look at how well the crops looked. On the way back I was sitting next to my Dad and as we were almost to our house my dad saw the cause of a faint odor we had been putting up with all day, a dead skunk laying next to the road. My Dad told me that when we got home I should come back and get rid of it.
I had watched my dad on numerous occasion get rid of things like that, so I just followed in his footsteps. Sometime in the past I had been with my Dad in the old Reo School bus on a fuel run down into the bottoms and there would be road kill of one persuasion or another ,and my Dad would take a piece of baling twine, make a loop and loop it around the dead critters foot. He would then tie the baling twine on the back bumper of the old Reo School bus and when we got down to the fields in the bottoms, after about six miles of gravel road, the critter would mysteriously be gone.
I went over to the barn and got a piece of baling twine, by that time it was getting dark, I made my way to where the stinking skunk was and looped a loop around one of its legs. The school bus was sitting in the barnyard no that won't work.
That night my Dad got a call from my uncle thanking him for the present, It seems that when I tied it to the back bumper of their car, it turned out to be a pretty tough ole skunk, cause it was still there when they pulled into their garage

Happy

Happy
Current mood: happy
Category: Goals, Plans, Hopes


My Dictionary defines happy as good fortune, and well being. Of course my dictionary is the same one I had in college, copyrighted 1967 and although the world has changed ,has happy changed?

It seems everyone from Paris to Britney is unhappy ,what's up with that? Isn't happy good fortune, wouldn't you say they both have plenty of that? How about well being,----well ---being---either would just thrill the heck out of most teenagers or young people in general. I do know a couple of things and one of them is. You cannot depend on someone else to make you happy. The only person you can depend on and should depend on in this life to make you happy is yourself. It cannot be done in any other way than from your soul.

I know every day isn't going to be a skippity do dah day but If you wake up and think to yourself that this day is going to be a bad one, it will be. Instead if you start every morning off with a purpose of doing one thing ,new every day to bring happiness to yourself, then maybe you can break the destructive mode we can find ourselves in. Laws of attraction teach us that if we dwell on unhappiness that is what we attract and If we dwell on happiness that is what we will attract. I read the definition of happy that I think is much more in tune with today It said "happy is when your mind is filled with pleasant thoughts most of the time." So everyone controls their own happiness, Its all in how you think, That determines who you are

.A beautiful friend in N FtMyers gave me inspiration and actually a blueprint for this story I want to thank her for being who she is.