The Impulsive Texan

"Texas Is Heaven"

2016-06-28T12:10:00.001-05:00

When I was stationed in Southern California in the early '90's and the people there found out I was from Texas, the question that always came up is "Why are Texan's SO dang proud"? It got me to thinking and I wrote down a few reasons. See if y'all can relate to any of this...

"TEXAS IS HEAVEN"

West of Louisiana and South of OK City is the place that I call home.
"Bob" wire fences and longhorn cattle is the life I've always known.
After growin' up and Texas and bein a part of this land, there's no way for me to hide
How I feel about the place I was born and the place that I'll surely die.

Folks from other parts just don't understand when I talk about the land I love.
It's more than just her wide open spaces and the clear blue skies above.
It's a locust buzzin' in the top of a mesquite OR a scissor-tail dancin' on the wind.
Or a horny toad scootin' 'cross a caliche road, these are Texas thangs y'all wouldn't understand.

October swelters 'cause of indian summers but there'll soon be a wintry breeze.
So takin' a swim in your best friends tank is just the thang to cool the Lone Star heat.
It's true the weather here can sure be a mystery and most times you just can't tell.
This mornin' the weather man said "No chance of rain", this afternoon, four inches fell.

A coyote yelps in the midnight hour, oh what a lonely sound.
A young 'un is under a China Berry tree diggin' doodle bugs out of the ground.
A pickup bounces down a dusty road carryin' a cowboy home.
He spent the whole day mendin' fences, in case the cows got the urge to roam.

Faded ol' Wranglers and worn out boots is usually what you'll see us wear.
And Saturday night dances in old honky-tonks is how we let down our hair.
Families here still get on their knees and still go to church together.
And cool Friday nights are all about football and it'll prob'ly be that way forever.

It ain't 'cause we're that much different than folks from other parts.
We're just a whole lot prouder than regular folks, 'cause Texas lives in our hearts.
We give thanks each and every day for this land that the good Lord has given,
and we lay down at night with a smile on our face 'cause here on earth

"Texas is Heaven"....

Stephan Dueboay
(c) 1999

Friday Night Lights... again

2015-08-28T23:07:00.001-05:00

I stepped out of the front door tonight and headed to my pickup. I had to make a quick trip to town to pick a few things up for the evening. As I neared my truck, I could hear a muffled crowd in the distance let out a yell. I wondered for just a fraction of a second, because that's the exact amount of time I needed to remember... it was Friday Night in Texas and football season had begun. But Friday nights in Texas are much more than just football.

As I drove to town, a sentiment settled over me and my mind returned to the fall of 1975. Our Friday night ritual was to leave home early and to go have a burger at Greg's Bakery or Dairy Queen. Four or five of us would squeeze in to the less than accommodating booths that filled the restaurant and we'd gorge ourselves with burgers, onion rings and gallons of soda or sweet tea. Afterwards we'd pile into our hotrods and head to the stadium where we'd cheer on the home team in hopes of a victory.

Suddenly I was snapped back to my senses as my truck bottomed out in a pot hole the size of my grandmothers 3-ring washtub. Realizing I was almost to the store, I pulled onto the "main drag" in town. As I made my way to the store, I just kept on driving... past the store, past the bank, past the square where the courthouse sat and east out of town. My body was in 2015, but my mind was following somewhere forty years behind me. I slowly drove the "drag" and turned left into the parking lot by the car wash just like I'd done 1,000 times before in my youth.

I headed back to town and as I reached the square, the nights I had spent sitting there with friends talking about cars, school, growing up and girls seemed so recent. Some nights, I'd go up there and sit by myself for hours, silently watching the passersby headed east toward Dallas or west toward the "heart of Texas". I can't recall exactly what I would think about as I sat there all alone, but I'd like to think I pondered life and love and my future as an adult.

I pointed my truck toward the entrance of the square and pulled it right into my "spot" where I had parked that old Pontiac so many times before as a teenager. I sat there and watched the traffic go by for a few minutes, trying to mimic my youth and recapture those old feelings from yesterday.

I turned on the radio and cruised through the radio channels and as I did, the sounds of the old Friday Nights filled the cab of my truck. Announcers were giving the scores of all the local games and they were fielding calls from disgruntled fans as well as happy fans that had just watched their team pull a win off, on this, the first Friday Night Lights celebration of Texas High School Football, 2015. I'm convinced it was the very same announcers, they just changed their names.

I sat there on the square for another 10 - 15 minutes reliving old times in my mind. In a nostalgic kind of way, I actually felt a twinge of disappointment that none of the "guys" pulled in beside me and rolled their window down and relayed an anxious "what's up"? Just for old times sake, I tuned the radio to a classic rock station and listened to several of the songs that I thought would probably be playing as I cruised up and down and back again, so long ago. It was almost like the deejay knew I'd be out there and he was playing that music just for me at that moment. Back then, "Band On The Run", "Smoke On The Water" and "Black Water" would blare through the speakers as we stood outside of our vehicles spending time and wasting our youth. Man oh man, what good times those were.

It was getting late, so I started up the old truck, backed out of my "spot" and pointed it toward home. I've always been a bit of a romantic and a dreamer and I do have a soft spot in my heart for "the old times". Many friends have reminded me over the years that the past can haunt you and that it may not be a good place to visit too often. But there are times when I hear something, see something or smell something and I'm reminded of a care-free life not so long ago, when times were slower, friends were truer, living was cheaper and boredom wasn't in our vocabulary. And one very important thing I've learned, sometimes going back there isn't a choice we make.

I pulled into the driveway thinking of the unplanned, but pleasant time I just spent over the last hour or so. I sat there in the driveway for just a minute and allowed my emotions and state of mind to settle in before I opened the truck door. As I headed to the house, from over my shoulder, a sound was riding in and out off of the warm evening breeze. I could just make out the sounds of my high school song beginning to play. I paused for a second, enjoying the moment when it dawned on me, I had made it back home twice in one evening.

The Impulsive Texan

Watch out California, Texas is coming again!

2015-07-28T20:05:00.000-05:00

Texas has always been known as a cutting edge, edge of the saddle, cowboy mentality kind of place. It's gotten that way by trying new things, taking chances and well, there's that big ol' pride thing. Yes, we Texans are very proud of where we're from, what we've done and football. And by the way, yes, Dez did catch the ball.

Something relatively new to the Great State of Texas is the presence of the wine drinking crowd, that is until now. A new wine region in America is starting to get noticed world-wide and is coming alive down in the Texas Hill Country area around Fredricksburg, Texas. Fredricksburg is a tiny little hamlet about an hour and a half from either Austin or San Antonio. Not only there, wineries are beginning to dot the landscape all over the State of Texas. Even in the little town I live in there is a very nice winery that gives the area a whole different feeling than the normal farming, dairy and ranching region that it truly is.

Wine connoisseurs around the world are starting to take notice of the Texas Wine County that some are referring to as the "New Napa". Although it's not likely going to overtake that premier wine region in California, you may just want to keep your eyes open, because no one thought that Texas would become the leader in wind energy just a few short years ago either... it could happen.

The Huffington Post's Travel Canada author and blogger, Ayngelina Brogan, dubbed the "Traveler/Food Hunter", has published a nice article giving reverence to the fastest growing wine region in the county. I've added a link to the story below. It's a nice read and gives you an idea of what's going on down in the "New Napa" of Fredricksburg, Texas.

Thanks for dropping by the Impulsive Texan.

http://www.huffingtonpost.ca/ayngelina-brogan/texas-wine-region_b_7867550.html

The Abilities of Jessica Zeller

2015-03-28T21:42:00.002-05:00

As the husband of a woman that has close ties to the Miss Texas Scholarship Foundation Pageant, I've had the privilege of meeting and becoming friends with some very smart, beautiful and inspirational young ladies over the years. Each year there are literally hundreds competing in local pageant events all over the State of Texas, with the dream of "taking home the crown" in the Miss Texas event that is held later on in the year. Winners of this event not only represent The State of Texas at the annual Miss America event, they also win thousands of dollars that can pay for a college education.

These young ladies all come from very diverse backgrounds. They are the daughters of ranchers, teachers, athletes, doctors, lawyers, law enforcement professionals or any of a whole host of other careers. Their drive, vision and ambition are second to none. Although they are all vivacious, outgoing and beautiful, from time to time, one usually crosses your path that just displays a determination that few of us will ever know or will ever realize and she changes your life forever. One such young lady crossed my path recently.

A few weeks ago, my granddaughter competed in one of the local scholarship pageants that was being held in Waco, Texas. The local events are where it's determined who will go on to compete in the annual Miss Texas Scholarship Foundation Pageant. And if they are fortunate enough to win the coveted Miss Texas event or the Miss Texas Outstanding Teen event, they automatically qualify for the granddaddy pageant event of the year, the Miss America Scholarship Pageant.

As my family and I were enjoying breakfast early on that Saturday morning, the hotel restaurant was abuzz with contestants milling around in their interview outfits making new friends, renewing old acquaintances or just spending time making small talk with their families. I noticed a young lady, sitting just a few feet away, speaking with two people that were obviously her family. She had deep, dark eyes that were framed with a pair of glasses in the latest fashion. Her hair was jet black and styled fashionably, revealing the olive complexion of her face. Just like all of the other young ladies in the room, this young lady was regal, happy and seemed very outgoing. She was also one of the most beautiful young ladies I had ever seen. Her dignity, poise, humbleness, confidence and the way she handled herself in this room filled with the other distinguished young ladies was impressive.

We were finished with our meal and were sitting at our table, taking in the activity in the room when the young lady stood up to leave. I immediately noticed something was amiss. As she made her way out of the room, I couldn't help but notice she had difficulty walking. Later on in the evening and after the show was over, I found out from her dad that she lives with Cerebral Palsy.

From that moment I could not get her out of my mind. My thoughts about her were sporadic and impulsive. I was elated at her obvious drive but simultaneously I wondered about her ability to perform. But mostly, I was sad that such an amazing young lady in the twilight of her youth had to go through each day navigating life with such a hindrance. It didn't matter to me, I decided at that moment I was rooting for this young lady. If she could do well, it would send a clear message to people, young and old alike, that you could live with physical difficulties and that life is not over, not over by a long shot. Would it be harder? Sure, but don't we all live with our own difficulties, whether physical, psychological or otherwise. And it seems to be harnessed around our neck and make our lives just a bit more difficult too.

As we arrived at the venue we made sure we were close to the front. I wanted to be front and center for my granddaughter, who was competing in the Teen Division of the show and of course for my new-found hero in the Miss Division. At this point, I didn't even know her name. As the show began, each contestant made their way to the front of the stage and introduced themselves. The young lady I had been waiting for made her way to the microphone and proudly exclaimed "Hello, my name is Jessica Zeller"! I was thrilled at her introduction. She sounded very happy and confident.

The show began and continued on for several hours over the course of the evening. In the competition each contestant was required to answer an on-stage question, model a swimsuit and an evening gown and perform a talent. As each segment of the competition was completed, my pride and profound respect for Jessica began to build. Finally it was her turn to perform her talent. She would be singing a selection called "The Prayer". If you know this song, you know the raw emotion it can reign all over you.

Her voice was pure, clear and bright. The emotion she evoked into every note she sang, coupled with her story, became overwhelming to me. Tears came to my eyes as she continued to sing. For those few minutes, the audience was hers. She had us by the soul and for that moment she was an entertainer, singing to her fans and everything was perfect in her world. Her performance, coupled with the emotions that had been building within me all through the day for this amazing young lady, had my heart flying and tears of joy for her in my eyes. I began to wonder how well she had done. Would it be enough to be considered for the coveted prize? Her entire performance over the course of the evening was emotional. It pulled you in. It grabbed you by the heart and wouldn't let go.

I was hoping I wasn't the only one in the auditorium that felt that way and I soon found out I wasn't. As she sang the final note, a roar from the crowd rose quickly and a standing ovation ensued. It wasn't because she was "different", they stood because she was good, really good. I was smiling, I was blubbering like a child and I was dealing with emotions I hadn't felt since I was in a similar situation years earlier with a young gentlemen by the name of Colby Bannister that lives with Down Syndrome. I could not take my mind off of Jessica Zeller. I've always been an advocate for the "underdog" and I made a solemn vow to myself right then and there, I was going to meet this dynamic young lady.

The competition ended and the big moment came. The emcee announced the winners of the fitness, the talent and a few other categories and it finally came down to who was going to represent Waco at the Miss Texas event. The announcer's voice came over the auditorium and she said "First Runner Up"... a short, dramatic pause floated in the air that seemed like forever. The voice suddenly announced "Jessica Zeller"! The crowd was elated. I was elated! But I was also disappointed, because lady to lady, competitor to competior and performance to performance, Jessica gave the winner a good run for her money. But in the end, it wasn't meant for Jessica to take home the Ms. Waco crown. Nonetheless Jessica Zeller had became my new hero that night.

After the show was over, the lights came up and the crowd started to hurriedly go and meet their contestants. I saw the parents of Jessica on the other side of the auditorium, so I told my wife I was going to go over and introduce myself. I had already made my mind up that I was going to write about her. As I approached her and her family, I reached out and placed my hand on her dad's shoulder. The mountain of a man turned and greeted me with a very outgoing and cordial smile.

I told her father who I was and that I'd like to write a short blog story on Jessica. I suppose the emotion had overcome him, too, because his reply wasn't "sure" or "yes", "no" or "let's ask her", it was a tear-filled "She's our miracle"! I almost lost it too, seeing this gentle giant so overcome with true, heartfelt emotion for his baby. I composed myself and spoke with him for a minute or two and I asked him if it would be ok to write a story about her. He said she'd be delighted. He gently touched her on the elbow and told her that someone wanted to meet her. I introduced myself and she politely introduced herself. I asked if it would be ok if I wrote a story about her and just as her dad had said, she said she'd be delighted. I told her, "I know you're in high demand right now, so I won't keep you long, but I would love to take a picture with you". She smiled and said "Of course". I traded information with her dad, thanked them for their hospitality and went on to find my family.

It's been several weeks now and the same emotions I felt for this beautiful and talented young lady on that evening are still very close to the surface. As I write these final words, I still have those feelings stirring around inside me that were so present on that evening.

I'm going to go ahead and admit it, right here, right now. I'm guilty, yes, guilty. I'm guilty of judging a book by its cover. I'm guilty of trying to determine the outcome of a situation, with a faulty thinking process. A man of my age should know by now that more often than not, making judgmental assumptions based on what I see instead of what I know, normally turns out to be dead wrong. And once again, I was wrong for what I let my mind tell me. When I saw Jessica walk away earlier that morning, I remember thinking "Does she really have a chance in this competition"? In retrospect, I was wrong to ever let that thought enter my mind. Jessica Zeller has a physical difficulty, yes, but she's far from being "disabled". Jessica Zeller possesses many, many more amazing, God-given abilities and she is a much braver soul than I could ever hope to be.

It was a profound privilege to meet such an outstanding and inspirational young lady. I'm forever thankful for that night and for the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to meet such a dynamic and driven soul. A soul that has opened my eyes wider than they've been in a long time. It's been said that "people come into your life for a reason, a season or a lifetime". I'm hoping this is a lifetime meeting.

Congratulations on a job well done, Jessica Zeller, you are a model of inspiration and you have a brand new, lifelong fan.

Me and Jessica Zeller

The Impulsive Texan

"Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it"

FOOD! Gringo Stir Fry...

2014-11-19T13:29:00.002-06:00

Hello friends, neighbors, in-laws and outlaws, Texans in Texas, those not in Texas, those about to be in Texas, or those of you that appreciate anything that is the Lone Star State. Today’s topic is one that is near and dear to my heart, oh yeah and to my stomach. It's turning colder and when it's cold, my taste buds start asking for things that are a bit more spicy.

I love to eat and as much as I love to eat, I love sharing the recipes I run across. Today’s is a wonderfully delicious and spicy plate. This is a sort of basic, normal everyday stir-fry, with a bit of a Southwestern or Texas twist to it. Ok, here we go...

Gringo Stir Fry

Ingredients

1 - large potato, diced into 1/2" cubes
1 - package of your favorite link sausage, cut into 1/4" coins
1 - large onion, cut into 1/4" "fajita" strips
5 - large jalapeno peppers or any chili pepper of your choice, cleaned, deveined and cut into 1/4" "fajita" strips. If you like your food really spicy, leave the veins and seeds
1 - large green bell pepper, cut into 1/4" "fajita" strips
1 - large yellow bell pepper, cut into 1/4" fajita" strips
1/2 - bunch cilantro, cut into small pieces

Cooking

- Ensure ingredients are ready to cook and by the stove and ready to go

- Heat a small skillet on medium high, with 2 – 3 tablespoons of olive or vegetable oil until oil is hot and almost smoking

- Stir fry the potatoes for 1 ½ to 2 minutes, or until they are halfway done

- Add the onions, all peppers and sausage to the pan, stir fry until the sausage starts getting a dark, almost black crust around the edges

- About 15 - 20 seconds before the dish is done, toss in the cilantro and mix well into the other ingredients- Remove from heat and serve immediately, hot

(This takes about 10 minutes of prep time, once the ingredients are ready to go and will feed one hungry Texan or 3 - 4 regular folks.

Now, EAT!

Folks, you can use your imagination on this dish and add any additional ingredients that you want. This is just my rendition. Other tasty additions to the dish are fresh squash, black-eyed peas, hominy, whole kernel corn... the sky’s the limit with how you can build this dish!

Enjoy your Gringo Stir Fry and have a super Blessed Thanksgiving Holiday.

Keep eatin' and remember, God Blessed Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

A Texas Tornado is closing in!!!

2014-09-27T18:59:00.002-05:00

If this doesn't get your feet to tapping, reach down and check your pulse! God Bless Texas Music and God Bless the Texas Tornados!

The Impulsive Texan

"Reasons that Texas is Texas"

2014-09-26T12:52:00.001-05:00

There are many schools of thought on just what makes Texas, Texas. While some indications are unique in nature and some aren’t, there are many things that Texas has and does and believes, that make it like no other place on earth. There’s a valid point to the advertising slogan “Texas, it’s like a whole other country”. Amen.

After pondering on this very subject for the better part of my life, I’ve come up with a list of things that I feel make the Great State of Texas, the one and only Lone Star that shines like no other.

1. Friday Night High School Football – Of all the movies on high school football, Friday Night Lights, defined the essence of the sport of football in the State of Texas, like no other State in America. In Texas, newspapers allow entire sections just for the scores, hightlight’s and stories on the most favorite game in Texas.

2. Texas Dry Rub BBQ – Often imitated, but never duplicated, the art of dry rub BBQ is uniquely Texan. The Texas Hill Country is truly, BBQ Mecca. Franklins, Mueller, Coopers, Blacks, City Market and the Salt Lick are shrines to the art of Texas Hill Country BBQ. Copious amounts of salt, pepper, Oak, Mesquite or Pecan smoke, low and slow heat and the magic of time, create a BBQ experience like no other place. No utensils, served on brown butcher paper and sauce on the side, please.

3. Small Town Salutation – If you ever get the privilege of driving on the back roads around Small Town, Texas, you’ll see something that might cause you to wonder. I’m guilty of it, my friends are guilty of it, but it’s a guilt that is a pleasure. I’m talking about the courtesy of waving at the vehicles passing you going in the opposite direction. Makes no difference if you know them or not, wave. It’ll do one of two things; make them smile or make them wonder, “Do I know that person?” Doesn’t matter if you do or you don’t, that’s Texas.

4. Texas Pride – There is no one school of thought, that I’ve heard, that will explain the extreme level of state pride that Texas has. My own personal opinion is that is goes back to the days of the fight for independence from Mexico. The original founding states of the nation all had each other to back the fight for independence from England. Texas had the settlers that moved there when it was a Mexican state and a 185 rag tag fighters from Tennessee, Virginia and a few other states as their fighting force. The story is told that a request for help in the fight to the United States was sent out and that the request was turned down. So, with a small, unorganized and untrained army, the quickly formed militia waged war against the mighty Mexican General Santa Anna and defeated him, sealing the victory from the country of Mexico… by itself, with no help from any other state in the United States, except for those few, brave volunteers that came to Texas to fight for the idea of Texas. Now that’s just my own opinion, as wrong or right as it may be. But it’s the only explanation that I personally can come up with for our deep, abiding faith, in the Great State of Texas.

5. Texas Music – The medium of music in Texas is as far and wide as the distance from Amarillo to Brownsville. From classical music in the metropolitan areas, to the sounds of country in the honky-tonks and dance halls that dot the back roads, Texas music has something for everyone. Pop, Metal, Classical, Country, Folk, Bluegrass, Tejano, Conjunto, Reggae, Jazz, Gospel, Contemporary Christian… well, the list goes on and on.

6. Tex-Mex Food – It’s not too often that a state wrangles a style of food and morphs it into their own. But Texas did just that with Tex-Mex. Most of the food in the United States is of the Tex-Mex variety. Nachos, chimichanga’s and fajita’s are all the creation of someone north of the border in Texas. Traditional Mexican faire’ is more of a comfort food, rather than the deep-fried, or sizzling style Texas has created.

7. Big, everything – The old saying “Everything’s big in Texas” may be a bit of a stretch, but Texas is known for Big Oil, Big Money, Big Sports and in some cases, Big Mouth’s. Make no mistake, if a Texan dreams it up, the chances are, he’s going to make the effort “Big Time”.

8. Size means everything – In the continental United States, Texas is the largest with 268,581 square miles of desert, mountains, prairies, plains, hills and pine trees. To put that in prospective, you could put 28 states of Vermont and New Hampshire, almost two New York States and four and one-half Illinois’. Oh, one last comparison. You can locate 163 states of Rhode Island with the borders of Texas. Yep, that puts it into perspective.

9. Farm and Ranch land – Every state in the United States has farm and ranch land and Texas leads the way with 130.2 million acres. It also leads the nation in production of cotton, beef, goats and mohair production.

So, there you have it mi amigos, some of my top reasons why Texas is Texas. Again, each one of these might be something that each state has or does, but this is a handful of things that makes the Great State of Texas as great as it truly is.

Blessings on a wonderful day, God bless y’all and God Bless Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

"The Fig Tree"

2014-09-20T13:36:00.001-05:00

You know, there are so many things can bring joy to your life, whether it be sporting events, spending time with family, camping, cooking, being active in your church or some humanitarian activity. Those are some pretty grand things to bring a smile to your face.

But you know, little things can do the same thing. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a smile from a loved one or sleeping in on a lazy Saturday morning could be just the thing to make your entire day. For me, it's the little things that count the most.

But my serious weakness, one thing that will always put a big smile on my face and remove the rumble from my gut, is food. Any food, I don't care... fast food, not so fast food, food I cook, food my wife cooks, food someone else cooks, which is the best food of all, spicy food, mild food, not so mild food and pizza. I've had sushi and shrimp and oysters, raw and in a po-boy, shark and rabbit, squid and calamari, I've eaten bear meat, (once... no more for me thank you) I've had alligator and rattlesnake, boiled crawfish and crabs, elk meat and buffalo, pheasant and quail, dove and venison, wild boar and head-on catfish in a Mexican border town, but I did not drink the water. But I have my limitations too. Do not set a dish in front of me that is made from an animal organ. Nope, just.can't.do.it...Gizzards? wretch... Liver? hurl... Gut soup? I need an air bag, please and hurry, thank you...

My wife is NOT as adventurous with her palate as I am, but overall we are serious amateur foodies and for the most part, we have the same desires in food. We watch every cooking show on television, we try to mimic the recipes they share and we have gone so far as to visit a few of the places that the spike-haired, bleach blonde California celebrity chef on the Cooking Channel has made wildly popular on his weekly show.

But all that aside, from time to time, I crave, seriously crave a nice, ripe, purple fig. Yep, I hate to disappoint you, but I'm not a graduate of Cardamum Blue and if I were in the food industry professionally, I'd prefer not to be called a chef. But yes, figs. Why figs you ask? Well, most of us form our likes and dislikes, habits, beliefs and personality early on in life, and generally between the ages of 9 and 14.

At the age of 12, I developed a love for those nice, ripe, giant, Texas figs. It began innocently enough on my walk after school to my families small engine repair shop. My brother and I would help out there after work and the walk home took us down a sleepy, narrow street. On that street was a massive old fig tree, with a big limb that hanged over the fence and into the street. It seemed as if it reached the sky. That may have been due to my relative close proximity to the ground and the tree's amazing height above the ground. Oh, and age. Have you noticed how things you remember as a child seem so much smaller in adulthood? Each day, my brother and I would stroll leisurely down that shady street, our gait slow because of the knowledge of what awaited us at the dirty, greasy and noisy shop... and figs.

We had been partaking in the sweet, juicy bounty of the figs for the better part of the season with never a problem. We'd only enjoy one or two on the way home after a long and arduous day at school, choosing to leave more of the fruit for the next days visit. The first time I heard her voice, I thought they were shooting a scene of "Attack of the Killer Banshees". "Get away from my figs you young hooligans!" were the first words I ever heard out of her mouth. She scowled those words with a level of anger that I'd never heard from an elderly woman, or man for that matter. The initial introduction scared me beyond belief. I dropped my handful of figs and sprinted down the sidewalk, not stopping until I had reached the safety of the family workshop. But those juicy, sweet orbs, that were just waiting to be devoured always drew me back to the scene of the feast.

After that day, my brother and I had to develop a strategy to get at the figs. She was always using a walking cane and neither of us wanted to be the first to see if she could actually fulfill her threat of "splitting our skull with this walker". Yeah, she had me convinced she could. We tried reasoning with her, saying that we were only taking the fruit that was on the limb that was hanging in the street. But no way was she going to reason. "Those are my figs, no matter where the limbs grow!" She would scream that same warning and message every day while she tried to keep from stepping in the level pile of rotting fruit that lay in her yard, under that tree. She didn't want them but she didn't want anyone else having them either.

So the strategy that my brother and I developed was this; while one of us tried, from a distance of course, to keep her occupied on one end of the block, the other would run down the sidewalk like we were leaving. While she made her way to the one that stayed behind on the other end of the block, absorbing her verbal abuse, the other would sneak back up the sidewalk and grab a double handful of the figs. The strategy worked like a charm. For weeks and weeks of each season, we'd enjoy the bounty that the tree had to offer. It seems like a hundred years away. But childhood, like time, passes way too quickly.

I had totally forgotten about those moments way back in my childhood. But a few weeks ago, neither my wife and I were up for cooking. So I jumped in the truck and headed to the local chicken place. I'm not sure why, but on the way back, I came a totally different way than I normally would have. As I headed West on Grand Street, I passed Cole Street, the street the old fig tree was on. Suddenly, like a flood, memories of the cranky old lady, the heavy-fruited fig tree hanging low over Cole Street, came rushing back to me. I remembered those times vividly... the heat in the air, the smell of the warm, sunny day and the rushing "swoosh" of vehicles and the whine of their tires on the highway, just two blocks away.

I slowed my truck down and moved over to the side of the street, ensuring the street was clear behind me. I made a U-turn, drove back down and took a left on Cole street. The road was more lit up than I remembered in my memory. Most of the low-hanging trees had gotten taller or were gone completely. The road was much narrower than I remembered too. Up ahead on the right, I saw the old, decorative wire fence that separated the cranky old lady from my brother and I as we walked, or ran, down the sidewalk.

But as I pulled up to the fence, I noticed that something was amiss, something wasn't right, something just wasn't normal. Suddenly it hit me. The fig tree, the old, cranky lady and her home, were all gone. An uneasy, melancholy sort of mood settled in over me, sort of like I'd been socked in the gut, or I had just seen the wind drop to calm and leave all traces from a ships sail. An important, yet to a degree unsettling part of my youth, was gone. All traces of it, nothing left but the fence and the sidewalk and the memory of a cranky old lady and a tree that brought so much satisfaction to the hunger of a young boy.

I drove slowly home, running those memories through my mind, over and over and over again. Why was that memory so important to me? Was a dirty old street with a not so special tree and a lady that ruled with iron fist over it, that important? Yes, in a way it was. Then I realized, it wasn't the memory of the tree and the joy it brought, or the old, cranky lady that I made life miserable for, a few minutes a day, during the fig season. The reason it hit me so hard was that I realized, things are here today and gone tomorrow. Just like life. One day someone you love is here and the next they're gone. One day a fig tree is here, the next it's gone.

Looking back, had I made an effort to befriend the old lady, I may have made a friend for life. But now, she and her tree are gone, forever, except for being tucked away neatly in my mind. At the time I thought they were bad memories, the reality is, that was part of making me who I am today.

So take it from me, never, ever look at something like it has no meaning or effect on your life at all. For me, a simple fig tree and the memories it holds, has had a profound effect on me and an indescribable joy that I didn't even realize until that day. As long as I'm blessed to live here on this earth, I will never quite look at a big, old purple Texas fig quite the same, ever again.

'Workin' cows"...

2014-05-19T13:21:00.001-05:00

Forty years ago, this summer, was the last time I "worked cows". I did it for extra money back in high school, when I thought I was ten foot tall and bulletproof. For those friends and acquaintances of mine that don't quite understand what working cows is, I'll explain.

As you can imagine, sort of like kids, a healthy cattle herd requires daily maintenance of feeding, watering, giving shots, applying medicines and so forth. You get the picture.

So a friend recently asked for my help today in applying tags to a dozen or so new bull and heifer calves. This is where you attach a numbered identification tag to the animals ear... with an industrial strength rivet gun, basically. Keep that in the back of your mind.

I show up, eager to help out a friend in need and needless to say, it went straight down hill from there. First of all there is no horse available to rope the beasts. So we have three grown men, in fairly un-good shape and a strapping young man of about 20, chasing calves around the pen for a half hour. Que the Keystone Cops music.

Someone gets the bright idea to "let Steve have a chance" at roping one of these terrified SCUD missiles on-the-hoof. I reluctantly take the rope and start stalking a calf around the pen... one throw... miss... two throws... not even remotely close... one last try and I actually came close... to roping a fence post.

Ok, next man... he finally gets one...and gives ME the end of the rope. I'm like, "what do I do with this"???. He lets go and just like at Six Flags, the amusement ride begins... immediately. Picture this...a 56 year old man, at full sprint, in boots, behind a furious and terrified 250 pound bull calf, headed toward a steel gate at passing lane speed, with a nylon rope in my hands, and this is where I suddenly remember... I have no gloves.

I am headed straight for a steel pole sticking up out of the ground! Not sure how, but I have the presence of mind to try and wrap the flaming rope around the pole between visions of gruesome injuries, thoughts of funeral plans my wife is about to begin and maintaining some level of dignity while trying not to look like some whimpering sissy with her skirt on fire. It worked! The calf stopped dead in its tracks! The other three wrestled the calf to the ground and applied the tag. One down...

Now I'm not one to whine about helping a friend out, but as we stared at the remaining, much bigger calves that were staring back at us, someone said, "there has to be a better way to do this, and without batting an eye, I said "outsource the job to cowboys"! After an hour and a half and four calves tagged, we were through "working cows" for the day. We fired up the grill and put about ten pounds of one of those calves cousins on the grill in the manner of burgers, sausage and hot dogs. We relaxed under a tree for the rest of the afternoon, sipping water and sweet tea, while reminiscing about all the "work" we'd just done...

So friends, as easy as cowboys make this sort of stuff look on TV, do not be fooled, there's more to being a real ranch hand than riding horses and slowly punchin' dogies and singing trail ride songs as you ride off into the West Texas sunset. "Hey honey, where's the Bengay"???

God bless all y'all and keep it Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

From Europe to Texas, halfway there...

2014-04-10T15:28:00.000-05:00

Frank Vandenbogaerdi and The Impulsive Texan

Being here in the center of the nation, we get to see a lot of interesting things and to meet some very interesting folks. We're on a busy state/national highway, here in Central Texas and we get a lot of travelers from all over passing through. So yesterday, a friend called me and asked if we had camping spaces available anywhere in Comanche. I told him we had camping spots available in the City Park, but it was going to start filling up on Thursday, so one day would be relatively quiet should he choose to stay. He relayed the message to the man and at about 4:45 he showed up at City Hall. And then an amazing story began to unfold.

Frank Vandenbogaerdi is a teacher from Belgium and he is taking a bike trip across America. He began his journey in Miami, Florida in early March and was passing through Comanche on his way to San Francisco, California, on his bicycle!

After he arrived at City Hall and we set him up with a spot at the Park, he began to tell the story of his adventures and his trip across the USA. He spoke for 30 minutes on some of the things he had done and how enjoyable his trip had been so far. I asked him "why are you doing this Frank. Is there a charity, or event that your riding for"? He told me that since he was a young teenager, he had dreamed of riding a bicycle across the United States. So he was basically fulfilling an item on his "bucket list".

What is making this trip so special, is that at the end of his journey, his wife will join him in San Francisco to help celebrate his three month journey and to spend some time together on a tour of California and the west coast, before heading back home to Belgium.

I asked one final question before he took off to spend the night at the park. "Frank, what is the one thing that you will take back to Belgium as being one of the most memorable aspects of the trip"?. Without hesitation he said "the incredible generosity of every person he came in contact with is what has been most memorable. He went on to say, "Americans are a kind, gentle and very giving people. So without a doubt it was the way the people treated me so generously and kind, that I will always remember". The heart of the old Implusive Texan swelled up with American pride.

I left work with a very high respect for people like Frank. I also have a bucket list that has twenty-five or so items on it, but only a few have been "ticked" off. Frank is about to fulfill yet another of his bucket list items in June when he completes the cross country tour of America. What a driven man he is and one that I am proud to have met.

I've heard it said before, "People come into your life for one of three reasons...a reason, a season or a lifetime". I like to think he came into my life to try and motivate a tired, old Texan into reaching out and fulfilling more of those "bucket list" items, that are sitting, incomplete on a pad of paper, on my desk. I actually feel a bit of a spark burning inside right now.

Safe travels and God-speed Frank and welcome to Texas, USA!

"Texas, my Texas"...

2013-11-19T20:35:00.001-06:00

Well folks, it's been a while since I've posted here on the Impulsive Texan. But my life took a 180 degree turn on September 4th. I'm settled in now and I'm glad to be back writing.

It was 37 years ago, this past July, I left the small Texas town I grew up in. As with most younger folks from Small Town, USA, I couldn't wait to get out. Well, I did just that and spent 23 years serving my country with the U.S. Navy. After that I ended up working for three cities in Texas...Fort Worth, Arlington and Midlothian.

Well, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for a position came open back in my hometown back in August and at first I wasn't interested. But over the past three decades that I had been gone, my mind started remembering my home, my childhood and my life in my little hometown. So, I put in for the job and by the grace of God, I was chosen over eight others.

I've been down here now for about 90 days and it's been quite easy to ease back into the "small town life". Things move a lot slower here and that is the one thing that has taken the longest to get used to.

And something else has blossomed to a greater extent since I've came back home... my Texanism. I have rediscovered how cool Texas is, since I've moved away from the metro-mess of North Texas. People wave at you driving down the street, they leave their front doors unlocked when they leave their house and they will stop and say "howdy" whenever they greet you in town.

Some years ago, I was missing me some Texas quite fiercely. I was stationed in Southern California, a magnificently beautiful place, but it wasn't my Texas. So after having to listen to me go on about the wonders of my Texas, one old boy from Illinois asked me, "So Tex, why is Texas so special to you"? I thought about it for a second and couldn't tell him one singular thing that made Texas so special. So I told him, give me a few days and I'll get back with you. As a writer, my mind went into overdrive about the wonderful things of Texas. But instead of putting them down in a list, I ended up writing a poem, called "Texas Is Heaven". When I gave it to him, he looked at me with a wondering gaze and said, "well, I still don't get the overly zealous attitude you and all other Texans carry for your state, but this poem has made me realize the place is very special".

And since I've gotten back home in Central Texas, on the northern edge of the Hill Country, the "Texas" in me has been bubbling out all over the place. So I thought I'd share the poem with you that I wrote way back in the '90's as a tribute to my Texas. I hope you enjoy it.

Texas Is Heaven

West of Louisiana and south of O.K. City, is the place that I call home,

"Bob" wire fences and longhorn cattle is the life I've always known.

Growin' up in Texas and bein' part of this land, there's no way for me to hide,

how I feel about where I was born and the place that I'll surely die.

Folks from other parts just don't understand when I talk 'bout the land I love.

It's more than just her wide open spaces or the clear blue skies above.

A locust buzzin' in the top of a mesquite or a scissor tail hangin' on the wind,

a horny toad scoots 'cross a caliche road, it's a Texas thang y'all wouldn't understand.

October swelters 'cause of the Indian Summer, but soon there'll be a wint'ry breeze.

So takin' a swim in your best friends tank is the way to cool the Lone Star heat.

It's true the weather here can be a mystery and most times you just can't tell.

This mornin' the weather man said "no chance of rain", this afternoon, four inches fell.

A coyote yelps at the midnight hour, oh what a lonely sound.

A young 'un is under a China Berry Tree diggin' doodle bugs outta the ground.

A pickup bounces down a dusty road, carryin' a cowboy home.

He spent the day mendin' fences, in case the cows got the urge to roam.

Faded ole' Wranglers and worn out boots is what you'll see us wear.

And Saturday night dances in old honky-tonks is where we let down our hair.

Families here still git on their knees and still go to church together.

And cool Friday nights are all about football and it'll be that way forever.

It ain't cause we're that much different than folks from other parts.

We're just a little bit prouder than your average folks, 'cause Texas lives in our hearts.

We give thanks each and every day for this land the Good Lord has given,

and we lay down at night with a smile on our face, 'cause here on earth,

Texas is our Heaven...

God bless all y'all and God bless Texas...

The Impulsive Texan

“You Can’t Go Home Again”...

2013-08-30T10:12:00.001-05:00

In the novel “You Can’t Go Home Again”, Thomas Wolfe wrote of how difficult it is to return to a life you knew when you were younger in the place where your childhood took place, especially if you have contributed to the atmosphere of change in that place. Adult eyes see things that a child’s eyes never can. Buildings are bigger, streets are narrower and the people you once knew so well, have changed also. On a recent visit to my home town, I pulled into the yard of my brother and his first words to me were “Welcome home”.

Beginning next week, I am returning home. I have accepted a new position as the City Administrator for my hometown of Comanche, Texas. As I drive through the city now, the hometown I grew up in seems to have shrunk to a much smaller version of what I remember. My grandmother and grandfathers house that once seemed like a mansion on a hill, is in reality a tiny, two bedroom structure sitting on top of rise on the northeast side of town. I used to roll bois d’ arc apples down the hill right beside it as a past time. That road once seemed a mile or more long and again, in reality, its span is only a half a block. I also chased horned toads in their backyard.

But this new venture is actually taking me full circle. I began my working life in that town. I spent time unloading trucks, putting out fresh produce and stocking the shelves of a long-gone grocery store and in its place is a new, modern convenience store with eight or ten gas pumps. And there isn’t a sign of the old grocery around. I also ran the projectors for the Majestic Theater that was razed by a fire years and years ago. It was an old, Austin Limestone structure, that barely held 50 – 60 people, but in the eye of my youth, it was a grand theater with hundreds and hundreds of seats.

Even though I realize I am not returning to the town I knew then, I am returning to the place of my roots. I went all through school and graduated there. I learned to drive an old 1967 Chevrolet pickup with a “three on the tree” that was missing first gear. I learned the finer points of courtesy from my mother and my grandmother, the family matriarch that introduced me to church and to the deliciousness of a frosty Dr Pepper float. She would be waiting for me every afternoon with that float in her hand as I walked up that same little rise from the elementary school just across the street. I recall her blue and white calico dress, neatly adorned with her frilly apron and her clunky shoes with big heels and her hair neatly pinned up in a bun on top of her head. It's amazing at the things we remember from 45 years ago and how easily it is to forget what you had for supper the night before.

With every new position that I was fortunate to have received throughout my life, the responsibility and importance rose too. And with this new position of running a city, the responsibility is of vast importance. Thousands of people are counting on me to keep their little hamlet running smoothly. The Council and the Mayor have placed great trust in their selection of me as they welcome back a wayward son that left so long ago.

Even though the town is small, the lifestyle is laid back and the people are friendly and outgoing, I am beginning to feel the raw emotion of nerves because of the level of responsibility that has been bestowed upon me. If I fail, I not only let my family and friends down, but I will also let down the little town that had such a big impact on me in my youth.

Yes, it’s true, I won’t be able to go back to the home I knew long go. It’s a small, distant memory somewhere in the back of my mind. But I can arrive and walk hand in hand with those memories and hope those still living there, will walk with me. It’s still a fantastic town and with a bit of luck and hard work, I may complete my working circle embraced in its continuous charm. It’s good to be home, even if it’s not the one I left.

The Impulsive Texan

Wild Texas skies...whatn'uh heck was that?

2013-07-25T13:11:00.001-05:00

Alright all of you amateur, semi pro and full time weather guessers out there, located somewhere on this big ole rock we call Earth, help me out if you can. I was driving to work earlier this week and noticed a wall cloud approaching me from the Northeast, halfway between Alvarado and Venus, by golly, Texas. I saw in this cloud, a strange formation I'd never seen before.

If you look closely at the "hump", in the middle of the cloud, there are three circular formations to its right. And to the left is one that is just breaking up.

Has anyone ever seen anything like this formation of clouds before? And if so, whatn'uh heck is it?

God bless y'all and God bless Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

"I may not get much done, but I sure am slow"...

New Post from the "Handbook for new Texans"... This weeks post...Courtesy

2013-07-17T12:39:00.001-05:00

Hey y'all, welcome to The Impulsive Texan Blog and another post!

Folks raised in Texas, for the most part, were taught to mind their manners and be courteous to others. So when you git here, you may see things you've never seen or hear things you've never heard. Like "thank you sir" or "your welcome ma'am". That's especially true for Texans from my generation of the '50's, '60's and '70's.

So if someone is genuinely being nice to you, take it for what it is, courtesy. Because most Texans don't take courtesy lightly.

This weeks post is another excerpt straight out of my "Handbook for New Texans" and is about courtesy and what you might receive from someone in Texas.

Courtesy

Folks in Texas tend to be friendly and outgoing, especially in the rural areas. So, if you’re taking a leisurely drive on a back road on Sunday afternoon, don’t drive off in the ditch and through someone’s fence if a person throws up their hand and waves at you as they pass you going in the opposite direction. It is normal and recommended. A Texas backroad-code, if you will.

Men here open doors for ladies. If you notice someone open the door for the lady or ladies you happen to be with, don’t be afraid, he’s just being nice. His intentions are true and in some cases, his mother may be watching to ensure he’s being a gentleman.

If a cow or horse gits out of a pasture, it's not uncommon to see a half-dozen trucks stopped on the side of the road helping out the poor cowboy or rancher, whose steed or bovine took to flight. That's the cowboy code and what we Texans do for one another.

God Blessed Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

Texas recipes...Cowboy Caviar

2013-07-10T12:39:00.003-05:00

From time to time, I post a new recipe that I enjoy or that catches my eye. Although I've not tried this one yet, I know I'm going to love it because I love it's cousin, "Texas Caviar" or a variation of the recipe "Hopping John" that is so popular in the other parts of the United States.

But this one encompasses everything I love about Texas and southwestern cooking. Corn, onions, black beans, tomatoes, cilantro and onions...mmm, mmm, mmm.

I hope you enjoy this recipe, like I know I'm going to.

Cowboy Caviar

Minutes to prepare - 10

Number of servings - 24

Ingredients

2 - 15 oz cans black beans, rinsed

1 - 17 oz can whole kernel corn, drained

2 - large tomatoes, chopped

1 - large avacodo, diced

1/2 - red onion, chopped

1/4 - cup chopped fresh cilantro

OPTIONAL INGREDIENT

1 - large jalapeno', chopped

Dressing

1 - tbsp red wine vinegar

3 - 4 tbsp lime juice

2 - tbsp olive oil

1 - tbsp salt

1/2 - tsp black pepper

Directions

1. Combine all ingredients in a large bowl

2. Cover and chill for at least an hour

3. Garnish with avocado slices and cilantro

4. Serve with tortilla chips.

Texas Tales..."I Found Summer Today"...

2013-06-28T10:42:00.000-05:00

I found summer today. I knew it was here, but to me, it just wasn’t official yet because the official announcement hadn’t been made by the unofficial icon of summer. But today and literally out of the blue, summer made its official announcement and simultaneously took me back to my long, gone childhood. I walked outside at around 2:00 and the sun was directly overhead. It was blazing hot and a low-hanging, heavy haze filled the sky. Suddenly, there it was. Can you hear it? Can you hear the ratchety-cadence of summer? A Cicada, or as we called them as a kids, a “locust” was buzzin’ the “cicada serenade” in the top of a tree across the street. Yep, it's official now, summer is here. Welcome to Texas, Summer.

As a child, summer was the most welcome time of the year for me. The heat didn’t affect me at all and to this day I still love summer the best. Late sunny evenings, day fishing trips, long bike rides all over the county and swimming were the activities that awaited us as the last school bell of the year peeled out announcing our three-month stay from the doldrums of education. And almost in harmony, the cicadas would begin singing and buzzing their song of summer.

Up with the dawn, chores out of the way and a shiny quarter in our pocket, away we would go. As we rode our bicycles toward the downtown area of the little Texas hamlet I grew up in, our eyes were focused like lasers on the sides of the roads, anxiously looking for that tell-tale, sparkling glint, beaming off of the glass "coke" bottles, lit up by the blazing Texas sun. Just coke bottles you say? Well, as with most folks in Texas will attest, every carbonated beverage sold back then was a "coke". The conversation would go something like. "I'm going to buy a coke, you want one?" "Yeah, I'll take one." "What kind?" "A Pepsi."....

The bottles lay hidden in the Johnson and Bermuda grass that grew in and around the ditches on either side of the road. On a good morning, we could find ten or twelve bottles and at a nickel apiece that would garner another $.50 to $.75 to put in each of our pockets to help fund that days adventure. In 1968 a dollar in the pocket of a ten year old was a heap of money, considering an ice-cold "coke" was only $.15 and a Baby Ruth bar was only $.10.

After we sold our "roadside bounty" at the local grocery store, it was on to the square, where we’d feast on the fresh peaches, watermelons and cantaloupes that were being offered up by the local farmers and ranchers in the shade of the old Fleming Oak Tree. The Fleming Oak is a county treasure from the days of the Cowboys and Indians and a reminder of the squabbles that had to be won to settle the rough and haggard land of Comanche County. The story goes that Old Man Fleming climbed up in that tree and was not letting anyone cut it down when the county decided to clear a spot for the new courthouse. And if they tried, he would not hesitate to use his old “Number Ten” on them. No one was sure if it was the ten gauge shotgun that was laying across his lap, or the heavy leather, sized ten boots he wore on his feet. The folks decided that it just wasn’t worth the time or pain that might be inflicted to find out which of the two it was. So, the tree is still standing proudly as ever on the square.

The Fleming Oak had a special place in Old Flemings heart from his childhood. As a young lad living with his family on the wide-open Texas Prairie, he claimed that this very tree saved his life as he rode desperately to save himself from a blood thirsty party of Comanche Indians. He said he climbed up into the tree and scared his horse away and just in the nick of time, too. The Indians rode right on by and never knew he was up in the tree. I can imagine how many cicadas have made that old tree home over the centuries. Oh if their song could be understood by us, imagine the stories they could tell.

From the square, we’d head south to the lake that sat three or four miles just outside of town. I’m amazed that us kids made it through all of those summers, what, with the sun baking down on us at over 100 degrees most days, riding bikes on those old two-lane country roads dodging cars, trucks, tractors, motorcycles and any other object that flew around every curve and topped every hill. We’d finally make it to the lake and spend another quarter to cool ourselves at the local swimming pool. It was nestled at the edge of and old oak tree line at the southeastern side of the lake and it was surrounded by ancient pecan trees. And there was always a symphony from the cicada choir to keep us company as we swam the summer away.

By the end of the day, we were all starving, worn out and charred by the sun and we still had to make that three mile ride back home on that old Farm to Market road we came in on. But the good part of the ride back is that it was virtually down-hill all the way. So, soaking wet from the afternoon swim we’d fly down that hill back toward home as the cicada’s cheered us on from the worn and gnarled mesquite trees that lined that old road in the dusty cow pastures. And even though it was 100 degrees outside, we’d be shivering for the first few minutes ride, as we were all soaking wet from the afternoon of swimming. But in no time at all, sweat would begin to bead up on us once again. As we rounded the last curve before the city limits sign, we would always draw a sigh of relief. We were almost home, only another mile or so, down FM 16 into town, past the square and a right on Walcott and we were home in ten minutes.

As we coasted into the front yard and threw down our bikes, most Saturday nights would find the smell of fried chicken filling the air. Mama was working her magic in the kitchen and she would always shout out her disapproval of the sunburns we’d received that day. But in the end, she always offered up her prized Aloe Vera plants that she kept on the front porch to cool down the effects of the blazing Texas summer sun. Taking turns, we’d slather one another’s back with the gooey, cool gel that oozed out of the Aloe Vera and always brought immediate relief to our scorched bodies.

With supper over and the night coming to an end, we would all go sit in the old red metal lawn chairs that were in the shadows of the carport. The cool metal always seemed to ease my burning skin and the heat of the day that was still hanging like a wet blanket on to the muggy Texas evening. The cicadas were still full of life and it was the sound of home and summer. We’d all sit and talk over the day, maybe play catch with a baseball for a bit or laugh at a colorful story mama always seemed to have at the ready. And then, one by one, the cicadas would end their daily performance. And almost on que, the lightning bugs would begin to light up the Texas night sky. Yes, summer was finally an official season now, because the cicadas were here and had officially taken over summer with their welcomed buzz. Everything good and right about summer was in place now and life was grand.

Welcome to Texas, Summer…

The Impulsive Texan

West Texas' rugged beauty, through the eyes of Wyman Meinzer's, "West Texas"...

2013-06-21T09:19:00.002-05:00

The rugged beauty of Texas is unparalleled and unforgettable. But none so unforgettable as the region known as West Texas. From the Cap Rock, to the mesa's of far West Texas, there is no other land like it. Mountains, valleys, rivers, boulders and high peaks, this land is as unforgiveable as it is unforgettably beautiful.

Take a trip and see through the eyes of Wyman Meinzer, the State of Texas' Official Photographer, this vast and gorgeous land that we Texans are so proud of.

So sit back with a hot cup of coffee, turn up the speakers and enjoy this unforgettable trip, through West Texas.

God blessed, West Texas...

The Impulsive Texan

New Post...Texas weather, from "Handbook for new Texans"...

2013-06-14T15:15:00.001-05:00

This weeks post is about the weather. Now there's nothing more unpredictable in Texas, than the weather. It can get cold, it can snow, but don't let anyone tell you different, it gets hot in Texas. There are rules about the heat in Texas, in which you'll read about below.

This is an important segment in welcoming our new compadre's from other states, because it just wouldn't be right to not tell our new friends about the balmy weather here in Texas...

Weather

If you’ve watched the news or have lent an ear to a weather report at any time in your adult life, chances are you’ve heard about how hot it is in Texas. Well, heat is relative. The summer heat index has been known to hover above the 115 degree mark in the Texas summertime for days and weeks on end. But the surface of the sun is around a million degrees, so the weather here in Texas is actually quite balmy if you rearrange you thinking.

Our winters seem like they last twenty minutes and are usually from around January 15^th until the first week in February if we’re lucky. The average winter in Texas is shorter than the bow hunting season which lasts from the first weekend in October until the first weekend in November. It has been known to carry on as long as six weeks though, in extreme winter conditions. And there have been stories of snow falling during that time. With the winters in Texas, you don’t even have to put your summer clothes away. Keep ‘em in the closet, the winter will be over before you get them cleaned and stored away.

The heat in Texas makes you rethink your lifestyle once you get here. No longer will you see if you can sneak into the closest parking spot at the mall. Oh no, your priorities will now be to find the closest shade tree or an open shade tree for that matter. And there are two rules in Texas about the heat...if you have a vehicle with leather or faux leather seats, one… ladies, don’t wear short shorts in the summer time and crawl straight into your truck in August. You WILL lose a 20 square inch area of skin on the back of both of your thighs. The seats are like an awaiting oven burner. Always keep a towel spread out over your seat when you leave for more than a minute or so.

And two…use a bandana to open the door to your truck. The average temperature in August in Texas is probably 173 degrees and you will lose a fingerprint or two if you touch the door handle. So think “bandana” before you burn.

Rule of thumb…Spring lasts about as long as a long lunch break. You get to work in the morning and it might be 48 – 50 degrees. But by the time you get off of work and start heading home, the summer has come to stay for the year.

Summer lasts from early February or March until the better parts of late November. And the average temperature during that time is a little warm on average and right at 100 degrees on most summer days.

So, think and don't burn! Keep cool this summer! Welcome to Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

Fathers Day...Texas style...

2013-06-10T13:07:00.001-05:00

Well, I woke up this morning pretty much dead sore from the neck down. Every bone in my body is aching like I hit a brick wall at a full out sprint. My muscles feel like that inch-thick, gelatinous fat cake that forms at the top of the pan above the Christmas ham, after it’s been sitting in the fridge for a day or so. At this point, I would give anything for a full body massage, a wide-open IV drip of a morphine/coffee cocktail and a full body cast. You’d think from this description I would have been involved in a massive wreck, rode a PBR bull named Spike or had gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali. Nope, nothing that dramatic. I was a willing participant in a full-day outing of…golf.

I know what you’re thinking. Golf? Yes, golf. Here’s the thing. My three youngest sons work odd hours that might include nights, days and sometimes the weekends. And with Father’s Day upon us, they wanted to take me to do something memorable.

I’ve loved the game of golf, since I began playing in the late ‘70’s back in my Navy days. Back then, it wasn’t uncommon for me get in a round of golf every afternoon. I played a lot, but I was in a lot better shape. I know round is a shape, but it’s not conducive to physical activity, especially if there is effort involved.

My sons took up golf earlier this year and fell in love with the game like I did so long ago. With this past weekend being the only weekend all three of them had off together for about a month, they sprung the surprise on me. Little did they know they were about to unleash a painful reminder on me of just how out of shape I truly am.

So your next question is, how can you be so sore after playing golf? When I was active duty in the Navy, you had to work out if you wanted to pass the annual physical fitness test and not be put on the “fat boy” program. So, four or five days a week, I’d involve myself in some sort of sport…softball, golf, weights, tennis, touch football or jogging. I was in top shape when I was their age. But, I don’t work out at all now. Let me repeat that. I don’t work out, AT ALL! And I ain’t their age anymore and this morning, that’s painfully obvious.

One promise I made to myself and have kept up faithfully, is that after I retired from the Navy, I’d NEVER work out again. Well by golly, I’ve kept that promise and yesterday proved that aching truth. I’m 55, severely out of shape and wondering where did that svelte, thin, muscular body go to? I mean, I’m ONLY 55. I shouldn’t look or feel like this! When the boys told me we were going to play a golf course in Fort Worth, I was excited and was anxiously awaiting our tee time.

I overlooked the first of what may have been several hints as to how bad of shape I was in, when I pulled the clubs out of storage. I struggled to put the bag on my shoulder, all the while thinking, “What’s in this bag, a body?” No matter, I easily had the bag in the truck after I strained, lifted and grunted for a full minute shoving the bag to the top of the tailgate. Then, I propped it up on my knee and finally in one mighty heave, I lifted it up, it hit the tailgate and crashed to the ground. So I had to start all over. Of course, I had to take a break after that. I didn’t think I was going to have the strength to lift my arms over my head to close and lock the storage building, much less put the bag in the truck. So, better sense prevailed and I lowered the tailgate, lifted the bag and finally had it in the truck. I don’t remember the tailgate ever being that heavy. So, lifting, turning myself around and shoving the tailgate closed with what energy was left in my jello, err, legs, the tailgate successfully closed. So before I even get to the course, I need a muscle relaxer. I met the boys at my youngest son’s house, we piled everything into his truck and took off. How did my bag get into the back of his truck you might ask? Good ole fashioned guilt.

They all pitched in and paid for my green fees and we drove the carts to the back of the truck, where I ingeniously used gravity as my companion to put the bag on the back of the cart. I scooted the bag’s bottom directly above the tray where the bags rest on the cart and kind of dropped it into place. It looked like I meant it that way and no one was the wiser.

The first twelve holes I saw the old magic return. I had three drives in excess of 250 yards and shot a respectable 50 on the front nine. And this is after not having lifted a club for over ten years. But don’t let that impress you too much. The thirteenth hole was waiting.

It was as if my body flipped a switch between twelve and thirteen that brought an immediate shut down of my strength, agility and desire to play this torturous game. The driver that I had swung so freely and powerfully, suddenly was an anvil in my hands. It hurt to put the ball on the tee and I almost paid one of the boys to place it for me. But, my mind thought through the pain and I managed to get the ball on the tee…after I got on my knees and steadied my shaking hand. Twelve holes and I’m reduced to a whining, aching mass of pain. I was suddenly a victim of two kinds of seizure…joint and muscle.

Up to that point, I was schooling the youngsters on the finer aspects of the gentleman’s game of golf. At the thirteen hole, I suddenly had a renaissance, an epiphany of sorts, that made me rearrange my thinking. This game stinks to high Heaven and is for those that have psychotic tendencies.

Well, since I was unable to hit the ball down the fairway at that point, I would throw it on the ground and give it a swift kick down the fairway. My arms felt like broken, numb appendages that were useless and had evolved into lifeless stumps over the course of the last five hours.

Finally, the last putt falls, the flag is back in the hole and we’re all in our carts headed to the parking lot. As I’m falling out of the cart, desperately groping for the tailgate of my sons truck, I hear a conversation developing. The three of them… have decided… for the four of us… we’re going to a nine-hole course and continue this madness! Silly me, I thought they were doing something nice for me today instead, they’re driving me to each hole with the final one being a hole in the ground!

By this time it’s late afternoon and we’re all starving. So we go to the local buffalo wing place and take a seat and start cooling down. They were laughing and cutting up while I was in the corner melting into a puddle of sweaty, exhausted fatigue. The food came and I started downing the cold water as I ravaged my plate. It was like I couldn’t get enough. We sat there for at least an hour and I slowly felt the pain and stiffness subsiding. I’m not sure if it was the twelve wings, half order of pulled pork nachos and the six tenders I ate or the half gallon of water that was bringing me back. I also suspect that half a bottle of Tylenol I ate like plain M & M’s on the way to the restaurant might have helped too. Nonetheless, I was starting to get a second wind. Sort of like an old tomato plant that’s wilted to the ground due to lack of water. Well, my stems were rehydrated, my stomach was full and I was feeling better. But it wasn’t the “run the Boston Marathon” better, but the “I can now walk without getting a charley horse”, better.

By the time we arrived at the second course, I was ready. I was still a bit stiff and had an aching neck, but I silently whimpered through the pain to the first hole. I didn’t want the boys to think I was a washed up has been, complaining old fart, so I jumped up on the tee first and placed the ball on the tee, without effort mind you. I wiggled, waggled and took a swing. A solid connection with the ball and it was in the air headed toward the pin. The ball landed softly on the green, about 10’ – 12’ to the left and pin high! Yay me, I’m back!

We played through the last eight holes and to my amazement I finally worked out the kinks in my swing and in my body and I won the round. I shot a 36 and the boys shot 39, 39 and 41. I was still a bit stiff and sore, but nothing compared to the few hours prior.

As I look back today, I’m reliving the glory and the pain of yesterday, mostly the pain, but it was a fantastic day regardless and I can’t wait to get out there again. If one positive thing has come out of this, it’s that I now realize I’m not 25 anymore and that my body has its limits. I’m definitely not in any shape to partake in continued physical activity that requires walking, swinging your arms and breathing at the same time, without an extended period of warm up. But another plus is that it has made me think, maybe it’s time I re-thought that whole “I’m not working out ever again”.

As I drove to work today, I let my mind at least visit with the idea of starting a new workout routine. Of course I’d have to start slow or the pain would be back with a vengeance. So what should it be? Walking, running, stretching? I’m thinking all three…walking to the fridge instead of hollering at someone to bring me iced tea…running away from exercise instead of just turning my head… and finally, eating absolutely anything I want and stretching the limits of the waist band in my jeans. Sounds like a mighty fine plan to me.

Vaya con Dios mi amigos y amigas! God Bless y’all and God Bless Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

Texas Music...Now on The Impulsive Texan

2013-06-07T16:36:00.002-05:00

It's no secret that Texas has a thriving music scene. From the blues down in Houston to the honky tonks in Ft Worth out to the Red Dirt sounds outside the city limits signs, music is alive and well in Texas.

I'm tickled plum pink to say that Texas Music has landed on The Impulsive Texan Blog. Come visit and connect with "Radio Free Texas" an independent, web-based site that streams your favorite tunes by your favorite Texas artists.

On The Impulsive Texan page, the link to "Radio Free Texas" is in the right column, just under the "DFW Bloggers" link. Click on the link, turn up the volume and kick back and enjoy some good, Texas music. Even our friends around the world can get first hand listening in, to the finest music in all of the land! Who needs Nashville, when you've got Texas Music?

Y'all have a good weekend and remember God blessed Texas and God bless all y'all!

The Impulsive Texan

New Post from the "Handbook for New Texans"...this weeks subject? Hunting...

2013-06-05T13:28:00.001-05:00

There are three activities in Texas that border on obsession:

1. Football
2. Fishing
3. Hunting

Since it's less than 90 days away until the opening weekend of dove season, we're going to cover the subject of hunting this week. You can hunt just about year round here in Texas and you can hunt just about anything that lives and breathes, crawls, runs, jumps or slivers in the great Texas outdoors. The whitetail deer in Texas is king with no other season coming close in popularity. But you can also hunt dove, quail, rabbits, squirrels, hogs and even alligators. To say the least, there is a great variety of hunting choices here in Texas.

It's a right of passage for youngsters, whether boy or girl, to learn to hunt here in Texas. When born, a youngster here in Texas is given a birth certificate, a hospital bill and daddy's rights to his hunting lease. It's been that way forever. A dowry of sorts.

Hunting is an activity that provides food for the freezer, fellowship with other hunters and an excuse to git out to the "Beer-Lease", OH, uhhh, I mean, the "Deer-Lease!" "Oh no mama, we ain't gonna be drinkin' no beer at the lease!"

The most popular Q-sine at the deer camp is chili and beer. Others may git fancy and bring boloney sandwiches, Vienna Sausages, Potted Meat and crackers, but those folks just mess up the efficiency of chili. You can open up 40 or 50 cans and leave it simmerin' over the fire all weekend and you don't have to worry about lunch or supper or breakfast for that matter. It'll feed a camp full of hungry hunters for just pennies a serving. Just scoop up a bowl full, add some crackers and dinner is served!

You know there are going to be rules and suggestions for hunting in order for the new Texan to make a smooth transition into making a better life here in Texas. And with that said, our subject of hunting and the rules to understand begin below.

Hunting

The first weekend in September is the opening day of dove season and is the most anticipated day in Texas each year, because it ushers in yet another time when men and women will be headin' to the woods and fields to harvest the bounty that God has so graciously provided. And the first weekend in October, which is the opening of bow season is another sacred day. From September 1^st until the extended hunting days are over in January, all other activities will cease, except for Friday Night Football, in the case that your favorite team makes the playoffs.

If you don't remember but one thing about hunting, make sure you always follow the golden rule of hunting in Texas… Consume what you harvest, period.

Here are two suggestions for non-hunters to cope with hunting season in Texas:

1. Learn to enjoy hunting yourself, or,

2. Learn to cope, the closing weekend in January ain’t that far off.

Supplies

When packing for the hunting trip, the following items are essential:

1. Chili
2. Beer
3. Camouflage shirts, long sleeve and short sleeve. It might be 90 in October
4. Camouflage pants
5. Cell phone charger for your truck...a good game of Angry Birds can suck your phone dry.
6. Lawn chair
7. A blanket for the bed of your truck, or a tent
8. A sharp hunting knife, for whittlin'
9. Flashlight and batteries, for the midnight nature call
10. Aspirin or Tylenol, whichever you prefer, to help with the hangover
11. Washers or horshoes, depending on which side of the family is there
12. The latest Deer Hunting app loaded onto your I-Phone
13. Sunglasses, to cover your bloodshot eyes
14. Fishing gear...there might be a tank on the property with fish in it.
15. and last but not least, a gun and ammo, 'cause you might actually see a deer.

'Til the season begins, God bless all y'all new Texans and God bless Texas hunting!

The Impulsive Texan

Texas town names...some of these make you wonder what they were thinking!

2013-06-04T12:44:00.002-05:00

I'll be the first to admit, we Texans have a quirky sense of humor. And the following list shows just that. So sit back and read up on some of the strangest names for towns you've ever heard.

Now, this is not an all inclusive list. If I did that, you'd be reading this for days!

Need to be cheered up?

Happy, Texas 79042
Pep, Texas 79353
Smiley, Texas 78159
Paradise, Texas 76073
Rainbow, Texas 76077
Sweet Home, Texas 77987
Comfort, Texas 78013
Friendship, Texas 76530

Love the Sun?

Sun City, Texas 78628
Sunrise, Texas 76661
Sunset, Texas 76270
Sundown, Texas 79372
Sunray, Texas 79086
Sunny Side, Texas 77423

Want something to eat?

Bacon, Texas 76301
Noodle, Texas 79536
Oatmeal, Texas 78605
Turkey, Texas 79261
Trout, Texas 75789
Sugar Land, Texas 77479
Salty, Texas 76567
Rice, Texas 75155

And top it off with:

Sweetwater, Texas 79556

Why travel to other cities? Texas has them all!

Atlanta, Texas 75551
Buffalo, Texas 75831
Detroit, Texas 75436
Colorado City, Texas 79512
Denver City, Texas 79323
Klondike, Texas 75448
Nevada, Texas 75173
Memphis, Texas 79245
Miami, Texas 79059
Boston, Texas 75570
Santa Fe, Texas 77517
Tennessee Colony, Texas 75861
Reno, Texas 75462

Feel like traveling outside the country? Don’t bother buying a plane
ticket!

Athens, Texas 75751
Canadian, Texas 79014
China, Texas 77613
Dublin, Texas 76446
Egypt, Texas 77436
Ireland, Texas 76538
Turkey, Texas 79261
London, Texas 76854
New London, Texas 75682
Paris, Texas 75460

No need to travel to Washington D.C.

Whitehouse, Texas 75791

We even have a city named after our planet!

Earth, Texas 79031

And even another planet:

Venus, Texas 76084

And a city named after our State!

Texas City, Texas 77590

Exhausted?

Energy, Texas 76452

Cold?

Blanket, Texas 76432
Winters, Texas

Like to read about History?

Santa Ana, Texas
Goliad, Texas
Alamo, Texas
Gun Barrel City, Texas
Robert Lee, Texas

Need Office Supplies?

Staples, Texas 78670

You guessed it… it’s on the state line:

Texline, Texas 79087

For the kids…

Kermit, Texas 79745
Elmo, Texas 75118
Nemo, Texas 76070
Tarzan, Texas 79783
Winnie, Texas 77665
Sylvester, Texas 79560

Other city names in Texas to make you smile

Frognot, Texas 75424
Bigfoot, Texas 78005
Hogeye, Texas 75423
Cactus, Te xas 79013
Notrees, Texas 79759
Best, Texas 76932
Veribest, Texas 76886
Kickapoo, Texas 75763
Dime Box, Texas 77853
Old Dime Box, Texas 77853
Telephone, Texas 75488
Telegraph, Texas 76883
Whiteface, Texas 79379
Twitty, Texas 79079

And our favorites…

Cut n Shoot, Texas
Gun Barrell City, Texas
Hoop And Holler, Texas
Ding Dong, Texas
Muleshoe, Texas

Texas traditional country music icon, Ray Price, out of the hospital...

2013-05-30T15:02:00.002-05:00

Texas traditional country music icon, Ray Price, was released from the hospital earlier this week. Ray has been battling cancer since last year and the medicine he was using had left him severely dehydrated.

Ray has been a fixture in the traditional country music scene for decades with hits like, "For The Good Times", "Danny Boy", "Heartaches By The Number", and "Crazy Arms".

With George Jones recent passing, Ray is one of a handful of traditional country music icons left. I hope that his most recent visit to the hospital is the last one for a while.

He is resting comfortably back at his home in Texas now and we look forward to seeing his name on the marquis' around the nation announcing yet another performance by the legendary entertainer.

Welcome Home Ray, it's good to have you up and around again!

I'll leave you with one of his greatest hits, "For The Good Times".

God blessed Texas...with Ray Price!

The Impulsive Texan

New post in the "Handbook for new Texan's" series...

2013-05-29T12:23:00.000-05:00

Ok folks being a hardcore Texianado, I enjoy bringing new knowledge to new Texan's and to the world. This is the third post in a series I'm taking from my "Handbook For New Texans". This weeks post is also taken from the "Texas Vocabulary" section of the handbook.

This word is a staple to Texas and one that Texas takes great pride in. It's a state icon and is the state tree of Texas. My great uncle J.H. Burkett made this nutty little morsel a household name in the early to mid 1900's here in Texas when he successfully grafted a certain strain of this tree. At one point, the Burkett Pecan was the most sought after pecan tree in the market here in Texas. Then, that silly health craze thang took over. I'm talking about the pecan if you haven't figured it out by now. By the way, if you want to read about my uncle's original Burkett Pecan tree, click this "link".

Now some folks in Texas get a wrinkle in their craw when they hear this word mispronounced, because it's been pronounced a certain way here in Texas for centuries. So, here is an exerpt from my "Handbook For New Texans" to read over and study.

Pecan - noun - “Puh-con”

This is the state tree of Texas and it has only one pronunciation. From El Paso to Beaumont and from Lubbock to Brownsville, it's always the same word. It ain’t pronounced “pee-can” because a “pee-can” is the round, white depository device in a bathroom that you sit on. And it’s not “pee-con”, it’s “puh-cahn”, that's it, plain and simple.

I ain't doubting that it may be pronounced "pee-can" or "pee-con" in the east, the west or the north, but in Texas, it's "puh-con". Learning to pronounce this word right is elementary in becoming a Texan in good standing.

So that's this weeks lesson from the "Handbook For New Texans". Y'all have a fantastic day and remember, God blessed Texas!

The Impulsive Texan

"Texas Vocabulary"...a new post from the "Handbook for new Texans"...

2013-05-24T11:48:00.000-05:00

I've heard it all, about how Texans talk. I spent the better part of my life traveling this country with the United States Navy and I've spent time in some pretty strange places. And once I had mentioned that I was from Texas, well, it could git pretty ugly, pretty quick, for sure. I've heard every Texas joke there is and reacted perfectly within reason with an icy stare directed at the one telling the joke. It seems the favorite joke outsided of Texas, always had to do with steers. I guess their must be some class the other 49 states attend to learn the same, tired Texas joke.

But Texans take great pride in their state, their pride and the way the talk. It's like no other place on the globe. Texas vernacular is very defined to this state. You won't hear a Jayhawk from Kansas talking with a Texas twang or using words that Texans use daily. That would be as strange as Clint Eastwood talking like Liberace. I suppose the language peculiarities come from the many flags that have flown over our great state and the pure brilliance of Texans themselves practicing the process of improvement.

So if you're movin' to Texas from nether regions, you need to have a heads up on certain words, phrases and dialects in Texas. So we're gonna start out todays lesson with a word that has been very good to Texas over the years. Here's your first lesson on "Texas Vocabulary".

Business – “bi-niss”

This word is pronounced wrong in 49 states and in certain zip codes in Texas. In Texas, you only prounounce the “esses” at the end of the word. No need to pronounce the middle "ess". The middle “ess'” is unnecessary and not pronounced. And theres a perfectly good explanation as to why. It’s more efficient to pronounce it this way. And “bi-niss”, especially in Texas, is all about efficiency.

Ok, there's your first lesson in Texas Vocabulary. Can you imagine how much time is saved by makin' efficient use of words like we do in Texas? I imagine a good hour of talkin' is cut off each day by Texans trimmin' the fat.

Until next time... God bless you and God bless Texas!

The Impulsive Texan