–Elmer Kelton  (Other Men’s Horses)

 

     Mornin’ to yuh, Pard, glad yuh were able to stop by.  Got to have yurself some good coffee.  Pard, the thought jist came to my mind.  What kind of coffee do yuh drink durin’ the week?  Do yuh make it yur ownself, or does the missus, or do yuh go out to some coffee shop?  I reckon for sure, that if’n yuh don’t make it yurself, it’s sorta diluted some.  No matter, always glad to have yuh come ’round.

     I read somewhere or heard someone say, that “Coffee is like a journey through time:  with a single sip, I can relive distant memories and create new experiences.”  My mercy, ain’t that the truth, ‘specially now at my age.  Why I sits in my chair a-lookin’ out the window at the woods and ponder all sorts of memories.  Ol’ Kelton brought one to my mind.  I remember the first backpackin’ trip Annie and I took.  It was up in the Indian Peaks Wilderness, and that was back before passes, and reservations, and no cookin’ over campfires, and all that nonsense that has come about because folks don’t know what they’re a-doin’ in the woods.  We camped jist below Blue Lake right at timberline.  Plenty of wood there.

     We only had time to spend a couple of nights, but I recall the marmots yippin’ in the evenin’, and the rush of the stream by our camp that came out from under a snowbank.  Water, oh my, it was cold, but it shor did make good coffee.  Chilly nights even though it was summertime because of the elevation.  The area shore has changed since that hike back in 1974.  Whooeee, that’s a long time ago, amigo.  Annie still insists that I put the iron skillet in her pack.  🤠  

     I wrote the grandkids the other day in a mornin’ note I send them, that the Lord had given them another day to be writin’ their life story.  Yuh realize that we all do that, one day at a time, one hour at a time.  When we get to the end of our time here on earth, most of us will have quite a book.  Some of yuhs, could write a best seller with yur life.  All I know is that the Lord has been faithful and good to us, that I had a wonderful travelin’ pardner through most of it.  Yep, Pard, it could’ve been better, but I’ll take what the Lord has handed out and allowed.

     Ahhh, shor is mighty tasty this mornin’.  Maybe the missus will be up in a bit, an’ she’ll get the biscuits a-goin’ and some gravy.  That’s the normal Saturday breakfast.  If’n we drink the whole pot, I’ll get another one started right away.

     Bein’ tryin’ to stay away from all those liars and woke media folk, and politicians.  Yet, I like to know what’s goin’ on, but it’s hard to tell the truth or the lie.  Yuh want to believe the news, but half the time they’re a-lyin’ jist like the others.  Yuh see a liar, yuh know where they’re from–the ol’ devil himself!  Some of the stuff happenin’ is atrocious.  Injustice, pseudo-justice, mockery of the law and the truth.  Pard, some of it jist jerks my jaws.  Why I read where this one gal said that the Native Americans and blacks were the original inhabitants of this country?  Did she make it past second grade history?  “Nough of that, I’m not gonna get my gizzard riled this mornin’ as I want to be all settled for breakfast.

     Yuh be havin’ a good day, an’ a good week.  Remember, yur writin’ yur life story, so make it a goodun.  Keep lookin’ where yur a-steppin’, I don’t want no root or one of the devil’s snares trippin’ yuh up.  Ride with a smile, knowing that the good Lord is with yuh, and for mercy’s sakes, be a-checkin’ yur cinch.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Lynette Bonner (Honey From the Rock)

 

Mornin’ Pard, jist take a looksee at the calendar.  The year’s most half over, and the longest day of the year is approaching.  My, what has taken place already in this year.  The world is in turmoil, jist a-waitin’ for the man of lawlessness to appear.  I find myself lookin’ up waitin’ for the trumpet sound.  Well, let’s be grabbin’ yuh a mug, and I’ll be pourin’ yuh a cup.

     Have yuh been noticin’ how so many angry folk there seem to be out there?  Yep, plenty of hostility, that’s for sure.  Yuh know, if folks would jist accept the message of Jesus this ol’ world would sure be a lot better.  Yuh know, I’ve heard, of course the media stirs, that some folk say that Islam is a peaceful religion.  My, my, are they duped.  They don’t know the teachin’s of Islam or its history or they wouldn’t be sayin’ such things.

     All sorts of anger, an’ folks will use anything to vent it.  Right now the hot term is “racism.”  My word, I read where someone said that serving milk (white milk) in school cafeterias is racist.  That one made me scratch my head.  Pard, in this time of turmoil yuh need to be stayin’ close to the Lord.  See, you and I’s a-knowin’ that real peace is in Jesus, not in what the world offers.  Why, that’s one of the reasons why I have yuh over.  Sit down, Pard, drink some coffee.  It’s like an antidote one of them high-cost doctors would be offerin’ yuh, but I give it for free.  Take a seat–the coffee is perkin’.  Things will be alright, have a cup, and let’s talk about more pleasant things.

     Ahhh, but that’s good coffee this mornin’.  Speakin’ of hatred, we all know where that comes from.  Yep, yuh got it Pard, from the depths of the Pit.  It’s from ol’ slewfoot himself projectin’ his hatred of the heavenly Father onto man.  If’n he can’t get a person to be hatin’ God, he’ll get them to hatin’ God’s great creation of man.  What is it the Bible says, “Hate stirs up conflict, but love covers over all wrongs.” I’m a-thinkin’ that’s found in Proverbs the tenth chapter.

     Try to be neighborly as yuh can.  I know the days are gone when yuh can leave the pot a simmerin’ on the stove and go help yurself.  Yep, it might be strong, but it’s the purpose and thought that counts.  Grandma always had a pot brewin’ jist in case someone might stop by.  Neighborly, friendly…

     But that don’t be meanin’ yuh should go off half-cocked.  Yuh be movin’ about waryly ’cause there is evil out there.  Yuh never know where it might be lurkin’ so yuh gots to be prepared and ready.  Gun’s oiled and loaded, I assume.  Prayed up, an’s while yur a-doin’ that keep yur eyes on the eastern skies, I’m a-reckonin’ that the Lord might jist be comin’ right soon.  Don’t be fallin’ off’n yur hoss ’cause yuh didn’t check yur cinch, and always be ridin’ with the Spirit.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Elmer Kelton  (The Good Old Boys)

 

Come on in, Pard.  What’s the ol’ sayin’, “another day, another dollar”?  Well, here we are, let me look yuh over.  Yur sure not wallowin’ in the money, so I reckon, it’ll be more like “another week, another dollar in the hole.”  Be that as it may, the coffee’s on and it’s sure ‘nough hot.  Plenty strong too, yul be a-likin’ it.  

     Pard, I was thinkin’ of the above that ol’ Elmer wrote.  I wonder, over the years, jist how many times, my wife poured and brought me a cup of coffee.  My mercy goodness, I can’t begin to count, not ‘nough fingers and toes.  Sure have been blessed!

     I don’t know whether yuh’ve noticed or not, but there are plenty of confused folk.  Some of the things that spew from their mouths, an’ some of them are supposed to be learned people.  If’n a person don’t know whether they’re a male or female, they’re downright confused, delusion has set in.  Whenever I see folks so profoundedly confused, I think of what the ol’ Apostle wrote, about God is not the author of confusion ; it’s His nemesis the ol’ devil.  An’ let me be tellin’ yuh Pard, a little bit of confusion can go a long ways.  Why some preacher, Presbyterian in name, said, “Blessed are those who end pregnancies, for they will be known for their lovingkindness.”  Murder is lovingkindness?  Confusion–demonic is what it is.

     Pard, I won’t ever try to be confusin’ yuh.  Tellin’ lies, and worse–believin’ yur own lies, that’s what some of these folks are doin’, they’re bein’ led like a bull with a nose-ring.  Jerk on that thing, an’ they’ll move right along.  Another preacher from a Lutheran church said, that gay sex is holy.  Now, I’m not goin’ to get into that subject, except to say, that no it’s not holy–it’s an abomination to God.  Seems to me that we’re jist a-beggin’ for the wrath of God to come down on us.

     So, Pard, what do we do?  Well, first of all, yuh drink yur coffee, don’t want it to be a-wastin’.  Second, we do what we can do where we are with what we’ve got.  Don’t give into lies, don’t give into false prophets, preachers, and gain-sayers.  Smile at someone durin’ the day, they may need it.  Yuh know, the Holy Spirit can work through a smile we give, or a bit of kindness we show.  Doesn’t have to be grandiose, jist, plain, simple, and honest.  Make sure yur kids and grandkids see what’s right, and what’s wrong.  They live in a world that is attackin’ them from all angles, so be a straight-ridin’, straight-talkin’, straight-livin’, Bible-totin’ cowpoke showin’ them younguns how a person is supposed to live. Be sittin’ tall in the saddle, don’t be waverin’ an’ acceptin’ the sort of foolishness and wickedness that is bein’ poured out as truth.

     Coffee was good an’ is gone.  Company was good an’ now yuh have to be gettin’ on down the road.  Be prayin’, be watchin’, be lookin’ up for our redemption is comin’ closer every hour.  Don’t be kickin’ up the dust as yuh ride away, an’ of course yul check yur cinch before yuh mount.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –Lou Bradshaw (Blue Valley)

 

Come on in, Pard, take a deep breath, the aroma of the coffee is fillin’ the kitchen.  I  sure can remember some of those days in the high country fillin’ my lungs with that fresh mountain air.  Put that along with the coffee, add some bacon and bread to the aroma, an’ Pard, yuh’d almost think yur were in heaven.  

     Sometimes the air ain’t so cool, but it’s usually fresh.  Sure does beat breathin’ that city air, but Pard, yuh might want to be wearin’ a mask.  It’s startin’ up, the air soon is goin’ to be filled with the lies from the pit.  Listen to them politicians an’ yuh soon learn whose side they’re on.  The father of lies will be seen.  Why Pard, sorry, go ‘head and start yur slurpin’, I can talk whilst yur a-drinkin’.  But here’s the truth of the matter, there’s one slitherin’ with a slick, forked tongue, twistin’ the Bible, speakin’ contrary to the holy principles of God, an’ callin’ himself a minister, of sorts.  See, Pard, we’re never far from the evil that lurks out there, an’ it’s everywhere.  It goes from the high and lofty, the marble halls of government, all the way down to the slums of the cities.  More and more the fight is upon us, and woe to us if’n we let down our guard for a minute.  Pard, I’ll get yuh a refill when I finish my speechifyin’.  We don’t wrestle with flesh and blood, but against powers of this dark world.  When election time comes closer yul be seein’ what I mean.  I’m jist tryin’ to get yur ready now.

     Now where’s that coffeepot?  I jist had somethin’ on my mind an’ had to be lettin’ it loose.  I understand the need for a good cup of coffee.  See the world wants yuh to compromise, water down the Word of God, live a life of compromise and relative truth.  Why Pard, every mornin’ when I drink my coffee I ponder that over.  That’s why I make it strong and black, to remind myself not to be compromisin’.  Plus I enjoy the taste more than addin’ all those fixin’s that some folks do.

     One good thing from yesterday.  The spring rounds with the ol’ sawbones is over.  No more visits until early fall.  Ha, old, why most of them are kids with a computer who know how to read a lab report.  When I go to the doc I usually feel better cause I look at some of those poor folk in there an’ they’re bad off.  Some of them look like ol’ Bodacious, himself stomped on them.  Others look like they where thrown off into a barbwire fence while others into a large patch of cholla.  I feel sorry for them, for they look bad, I mean it Pard, bad.  So I step a little livelier when I leave the office.

     One more thing I jist have to be a-sayin’ before we part ways.  Pard, know this thing for sure–the Lord is good!  Yuh can sure be depenin’ on that all the way to the grave.  Yuh know we can count on Him to be helpin’ us when we have to be a wrestlin’ with all those evil imps and varmints from the Pit.  

     Well, next time we’re together, the Lord willin’, on a Saturday it’ll be June.  My mercy, time moves along faster than a full-blow’d stampede.  Yuh be takin’ care of yurself, an’ if’n yur close by we’re havin’ dinner on the grounds at church Sunday.  Don’t think Annie’s makin’ a pie, but she’s making bbq sausages, potato salad, an’ some cookies.  But I’m tellin’ yuh, there’ll be some fixin’s.  Have a good Lord’s day, an’ a week knowin’ He’ll be with yuh.  Oh, an’ one more thing.  Check yur cinch.

      Vaya con Dios.