Stirring the lingering coals of the campfire soon produced a flame large enough to boil the coffee. He walked to the stream and got the water, then placed the coffee pot on the fire and dropped a handful of ground coffee into the pot.”
–Cliff Hudgins (Viejo and the Lost Child)
Howdy there, Pard, coffee’s hot. Don’t be drinkin’ too fast or slurpin’ it or yuh might burn all the hair off’n yur tongue. That’s ‘most as bad as havin’ yur bacon curled. Sure hope yuh had a good week. Sure wishin’ I could get out in the wilds again, do some fishin’ up in the high country and wander about some on the high lonesome. Ahh, the cascadin’ water and fillin’ the pot from it while lookin’ at the camp jays eyein’ the campsite. Pard, I’m a-thinkin’ those days are pretty much gone.
Did I watch it? Don’t reckon I know what yur talkin’ about. Debates? Ah, nah, too much mumblin’ and at my age I want to be able to hear someone say something that I can understand. ‘Course most of it is gobbledygook anyhow. Pard, we’re in a sad shape. I can hear the voice of my Grandma, “Lord, help us through the jungles!”
For the life of me, I can’t figure out what’s happened to the work ethic. Hold on, that’s not true, I can. If’n I think about it long enough I could cite several reasons. Molly-coddling among them. Poor little babies, we daren’t hurt their fragile self-esteem. Give them some candy and a ribbon for their efforts. Bah! I was just readin’ yesterday ’bout what the complainers wantin’ to do to the land of milk an’ honey. Trouble is, they didn’t want to put forth the effort, just like so many of folks today. “Thar are giants in the land!” they cried and boohooed, all but two. Yep, Pard, yuh remember their names: Joshua and Caleb. Tell me the names of the other ten that went to search out the land.
Two men, that’s probably ’bout the percent we have willin’ to put in a honest day’s work. The percentage of those who still hold a vestige of the Protestant Work Ethic. See, Pard, folks don’t realize that if yuh want milk there’s cows to be a-milkin’. Plus all the feedin’ and care of them bovines. And fear has to be put aside, for them bees have a nasty little stinger. Yep, the land was there waitin’ for them, but they murmured, whined, complained, and moaned “we can’t do it.” Well, my mercy me…Lord, help us through the jungles.
Good thing we can sit in the mornin’, enjoy our coffee, read the Bible, and converse with our Lord. Then go out an’ get the chores done. Oh, an’ let me mention one thing before we finish up the pot. I was talkin’ to one of them fellars that work down there along the Rio Grande. He was a-tellin’ me that it would be easy to put a stop to this whole illegal immigration thing; he said it was nothin’ but political. Won’t happen, he was a-sayin’ as long as the limp-noodled brains of the left have control. Say, wait a minute, what party controls the House? Hmmm, see what I mean? Lord, help us through the jungles.
And Pard, part of the work we have to do is stay firm and stable our ownselves, check our cinch, ride with gun oiled and loaded, and be a obeying the Good Book. Yuh take care this comin’ fourth, don’t be blowin’ the tips of yur fingers off with any of them firecrackers.
Vaya con Dios.