Month: February 2018

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

A man could live in any kind of a house, so long as it kept the rain off of his head. But he couldn’t expect a woman to live that way, not if he had any real feeling for her.”
–Elmer Kelton (After the Bugles)

“This explains why a man leaves his father and mother and is joined to his wife, and the two are united into one.”
Genesis 2:24 (NLT)
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Here we go, Valentine’s Day. The day of diamonds (forbid), chocolate, and flowers. It’s not a day that I go overboard with to celebrate. I have always wondered about this day along with “cupids.” I figure that it should not be just one day a year, but it should be a lifestyle to be practiced.
Romantic? Sure, but that should be the norm. Perhaps at my age, maybe more nostalgic, but then what is romance? Is it that gushy, mushy feeling or is it something that is solid and stable? I was looking through some of my files for something that I could put on here for Valentine’s Day and came across the following.

“Some cowboys sat around a table
in a café close to here
jawin’ about the weather
and a horse that had not fear.

when one old puncher’s voice
broke in to recollect
how his wife set a table
and it made them all reflect.

on tablecloths and silverware,
fresh flowers in a vase
food prepared with loving care
n’ maybe saying grace.

Arturos’ wife could doctor cattle
then cook with little muss
Sam could see his wife fix stew
and how she made a fuss.

Bill could see his wife as her
hands placed fork and spoon
then in her sly way
asking, “Fixing coffee soon?”

Each thought of a special woman,
helping hold life together
a partner full of strength who
was gentle as a feather.

and how each day was special
at the beginning or the end
cause they could sit and eat,
and talk with their best friend.”
–Steve Dirksen

So I sit here and ponder some what makes my Valentine so special. I guess it’s being with her on a daily basis for almost 48 years. If I was with those cowboys at that café, I would have to bring up the wonder of her pies, how she enjoys doing things for others, like making me biscuits ‘n’ gravy or the way she prepares my eggs to get me ready for the day. But those last two verses are what all of us should be able to agree upon. My Valentine is what helps hold life together, full of strength. I think some of the special times were traveling with her as “shotgun,” or around a campfire, or just sitting any where together enjoying coffee.
Maybe I should throw in something mushy so I’ll close with the old song sang by Gene Autry and written by Scott Wiseman.

“Have I told you lately that I love you
Could I tell you once again somehow
Have I told, with all my heart an soul how I adore you?
Well, darlin’ I’m tellin’ you now.

My heart would break in two if I should lose you
It’s no good without you anyhow.
Have I told you lately that I love you?
Well, darlin’, I’m tellin’ you now.”

The Saga of Miles Forrest

by Ira Paine, Posted on

Denton was sitting at the desk when we drug the man I cold-cocked in. “Open a cell,” I ordered.
“Wha, what are you doing? You can’t bring him in here!”
“He murdered a man and I’m puttin’ him in a cell until he gains consciousness. Now, open a cell! I won’t say it again!” I commanded.
We laid the gunman on the bed and locked the cell. “Thanks, Jimbo. You must be tired from all that runnin’ back and forth. Here,” I reached in my pocket for a dollar. “Go get yourself a steak.”
He smiled and nodded his thanks. After he left I saw Billy standing, looking at the man on the bed. “He would have shot me,” he said matter-of-factly then an awareness came to his face. “Did you kill his friends?”
“Now why would I do that? They did nothing to break the law, and I far as I know they’re not wanted,” I was watching him squirm. “‘Course they might want come to the jail to check on their friend.”
He put his hand on his gun and started to lift it. “Billy, what do you think you’re doin’?”
“I can’t have the town thinkin’ I back down,” he was almost whimpering.
“Too late for that, the town already knows.”
I was at the door ready to walk out when bursting through it came Councilman Billington. He glanced at me, then Billy, then looked at the man lying on the bed. “He dead?”
“Nope, but he’ll need some lookin’ after and reckon he will have a mild headache,” I replied and started out again when this time Doc Jones walked in.
“I hear there may be need for my services,” he stated.
“Billy, let the Doc see the prisoner.”
“You just can’t open that cell, he’s dangerous!” screamed Billington.
Looking at the Councilman with disgust, I said, “Billy, let the Doc examine the prisoner.”
Billington looked at me. “Did you kill the other two men?”
“You’re the second person to ask me that. What did they do? Are they wanted?”
“You have to!”
“Listen, I don’t have to do anything. There’s your marshal over there who ran from the scene,” I paused and then put my finger in Billington’s chest, “same as you! I brought this man into custody because he killed someone.”
I looked up the street and saw his two companions head the direction of the jail. I smiled and then went over to the corner to sit. “Speakin’ of his friends, here they come.”
“I’m unarmed!” screamed Billington. “Go arrest them, Marshal.”
Billy looked confused and uncertain. It looked at if he wanted to run out of the office, but it was too late, the two toughs were in the doorway.
“Marshal, we want to see our friend!” ordered one.
He sort of stuttered, but didn’t reply. Then they looked at Billington. “Hey, fancy-britches, can your marshal hear?”
“Get out of here immediately!” blustered Billington.
Laughing the men looked at him. One in a dirty fur-hat looked at him and said, “Well, throw us out.”
“Marshal, arrest those men,” yelled Billington. He was worse than a young gal who had come face-to-face with a rattlesnake.
“On what charge?” asked fur-hat and he put his hand on his gun. If it went any further I would have to intervene.
At that time Denton threw his badge on the desk where it bounced and skipped off the edge onto the floor. Bumping into the men he ran out into the street looking for his horse.
The other tough stooped to pick up the badge and held it close to his chest. “How’s it look on me Mr. Fancy-Britches?”
That was enough. “Put it on the desk,” I ordered. “I won’t have you tarnishing a badge of the law.”
They hadn’t seen me over in the corner and when I spoke they jumped. Then they heard me cocking the Greener.
“Hope your head is harder than your friend’s for the barrel of this shotgun is right ready to see.”
He put the badge on the desk, and said, “We just wanted to check on our friend. You hit him right hard.”
“How is he Doc?”
“He’ll have a headache for a while, but the skull isn’t cracked. He should make it long enough to hang.”
When he said that the room became quiet and tension began to rise when…

Echoes From the Campfire

by Ira Paine, Posted on

You oughtn’t to hate work. Hard work makes for what I reckon you like in a man, but don’t understand. As I look back over my life…what I remember most an’ feel best over are the hardest jobs I did an’ those that cost the most sweat an’ blood.”
–Zane Grey (The Mysterious Rider)

“I am yours; rescue me! For I have worked hard at obeying your commandments.”
–Psalm 119:94 (NLT)
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I wrote some about those who dream and may have a dream, but that’s as far as it goes. It is one thing to have a dream, even one that God has given, and another thing to work so that it comes to pass. Perhaps that is why I enjoy the Winter Olympics so much. These are individuals who had a “dream” and worked hard, exceptionally hard to try to fulfill that dream. Any of those in the Olympics, whether they win or not have fulfilled that dream, for they made it to the Olympics.
“I miss it a lot. I miss the lifestyle. I miss the constant grind and struggle and I know that sounds kind of wild but there is a real sense of value and purpose when you are training for an Olympic games obviously. It is very specific and your results are given to you on a daily basis.”
–Apolo Ohno
Notice the words, the “constant grind and struggle.” Hard work is required. The purest form of natural joy is fulfillment of a job that took hard work. Yet today, there are so many that shirk away from hard work. Those who have the “give-me” attitude will never know the satisfaction of what it is to earn something.
I hated those assignments when I had to work with those that wanted to sponge off me, or the group. Those that did not want to do their share. Those individuals are perhaps the ones that rate the lowest in my list of people. The Bible calls them shirkers or sluggards; those who want to just get by, those who do not understand the price and value of sacrifice.
Become what the Lord has for you, but realize that it will take hard work. “But the one who endures to the end will be delivered.” (Matthew 24:13, HCSB)
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Ponder This: My personal method to abide in peace, Dave Roever:
1) Stop watching the news on television. Don’t buy the lies.
2) Lighten the work load by working smarter not harder.
3) Enjoy your family time.
4) Worship the Lord and give Him praise.
5) Read the Word of God until it speaks to you!
6) Oh, and laugh! Yes, laugh more and gripe less!

Coffee Percs

by Ira Paine, Posted on

He drank his coffee black. The heat of it jolted him a little, it pulled him out of a deep hole.”
–Ernest Haycox (Trouble Shooter)

Mornin’ to yuh, my friends. Rain again, can’t do anything about it, so might as well just sit a spell an’ enjoy some coffee. Hope the ol’ bug hasn’t hit your house. Sure has done a number with everyone here. Kim has escaped it, good thing, but even Shauna and Garrett were laid low with it. Hopefully, we’re all on the mend.
Did yuh happen to watch any of the openin’ ceremonies to the Olympics? Catch the expression of the North Korean delegate who just happened to be sittin’ behind our Vice President? I wonder, if she were honest with herself, what was going through her mind?
Ahhh, let it rain, the coffee sure is good. Refill? Have you picked up on the theme of many of the commercials? Go for your dream. It’s out there go for it. Give me a break! I don’t have a problem with someone with a legitimate dream, but some folk are just unrealistic. Pard, I reckon what bothers me is that Christian folk will say they have a dream. Okay, I can handle that to an extent. But is it theirs or did it come from the Lord? If it is a legitimate dream, what are they doin’ about it? There’s one thing that must go with a dream–hard work. Now that’s almost an archaic thought.
I’m gettin’ ‘nother cup, want one? Maybe the weather is gettin’ to these ol’ bones. But dreamers have a responsibility to work for their dream to come true. It is not hocus-pocus, or a gift from the government or a boss. There is time, effort, and probably some sweat, blood, and tears that go in the fulfillment of a dream. There’s a lot of talk about “dreamers” today; most of it is wanting a free gift and handout.
My mercy! Cup’s empty ‘long with the pot. That means you’ll be a-headin’ on down the road. Be sure to stay warm an’ dry. Don’t be out there lookin’ for that there “bug.” In this weather, I don’t care if it’s rainin’ or snowin’, you have to check that cinch.