–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.

               

 

Well, here we are, Pard, on the downward slope of the season.  Yep, I know summer’s just begun, but with that, the days will be gettin’ shorter.  For a while, shorter and hotter.  So far not so bad here, a couple of days in the lower nineties.  Go ‘head, grab yur cup, the coffee’s comin’ right up.  What’s the Good Book say, As long as the earth endures the seasons will come and go as will night and day, uh, that’s a little paraphrase, if’n yuh want to go look it up it’s in Genesis right after the flood.

     Ahhh, that coffee sure fits the bill this mornin’.  Plum tickles the ol’ gizzard, sure ‘nough good way to start the day.  Pard, I heard somethin’ that sorta frightened me.  Nah, not scared me as to want to pull out my gun, but it brought new light to this feeble ol’ fence post of a mind of mine.  I was on social media, when somethin’ popped up.  Now, I usually don’t pay no ‘ttention to such things, but this one just caught my eye.  A woman was a talkin’, “Just leave us alone.  That’s all we want to be left alone and go to hell.  That’s where I wanna go anyway…”  My, my, all I could do was shake my head.  That poor gal don’t know what she’s a-talkin’ about.

     Now, in my days, I’ve heard smart remarks, most said in foolishness and jest, such as, “I want to go to hell, that’s where all my friends are,” or “we’ll have a grand ol’ time partyin’ down there.”  The Lord tells us that if we have ears, then listen:  it ain’t gonna be no party.  Yuh don’t want to be settin’ yur sights on goin’ there.  It’s a place of torment where the worm dieth not.  It’s darkness and gnashing of teeth.  Why, Pard, it’s darker than that there coffee yura drinkin’.  

     Ol’ slewfoot has sure deceived that woman.  She’s done exchanged the truth of God for a lie.  Now I don’t know if she’s at the point where she believes the lie.  I read that durin’ the Tribulation, the Lord will send a powerful delusion so that people will believe the lie, but not sure if that’s for today or not.  Either way, the woman has indeed believed Satan and is not in her right mind.  If’n she was she would be seekin’ grace and mercy from the Lord, not flauntin’ her lifestyle at Him.

     My mercy, Pard, the pot’s empty.  Where has the time gone?  Seems like it gets shorter and shorter, or perhaps I’m just noticin’ it more.  Summer is upon us, the days should be long and lingerin’, but it seems they pass more quickly now.  We seem to empty the pot faster than before.  Well, the Lord willin’ and yuh don’t forget to check yur cinch and fall on yur noggin’ I’ll see yuh next week.  Sit tall in the saddle, keep yur weapons near yuh and be diligent as yuh travel through this world in the comin’ week.

     Vaya con Dios.

                    –A.K. Vyas  (Dodge City)

 

Mornin’, Pard.  Yuh know if’n it ain’t one thing it’s the other.  Least wise my coffee ain’t horrid; it’s more delectable.  Makes yur taste buds howl in delight an’ yur ol’ gizzard starts to growl.  Hope yur doin’ well this Saturday.  

     Ahhh, this is good.  Finished the first rounds of appointments with the sawbones.  Round one went well.  My mercy, it seems that I almost find myself comin’ and goin’ to the doc’s office.  Least, I’m able to come and go, better than some folks I know.  I reckon I’m in pretty good shape for the shape I’m in, and that’s a fact.

     Gonna be celebratin’ Fathers’ Day today.  Some roastin’ ears, throw some steaks on the grill, an’ I think that Annie is makin’ a coconut cream pie.  Now, yuh put the three together and that’s a reason to be shoutin’ over.  I didn’t mention greens, but most likely some will show up.  Whooeee, I remember that day well, back in April of ’74 when I became a father.  The thought process changed for sure.  It became a solemn obligation before the Lord to raise her up right.  Now that, Pard, is a real responsibility.

     With the Lord’s help and plenty from my wife, both the girls have grown up to be stalwart in their walk with the Lord.  That’s always the main thing!  This day, there is so much evil around seekin’ to devour the souls of the younguns.  A father and mother have to constantly guard, and not get wearisome in their doin’ so the minds and actions of their kids.  Why Pard, an’ take a deep swaller ‘fore I tell yuh this.  Ready?  This is a quotation, “Disney’s latest Star Wars show ‘The Acolyte! features black lesbian space witches creating babies using the Force.”  Sick, depraved–yuh add that along with the drag queens readin’ to kids in schools and libraries–well, Pard, just how much will the Lord stand for?

     I’ll be lettin’ yuh go Pard.  I’ve got to get the wood ready, an’ then the fire started.  Always like to use a wood fire to cook steaks over if possible.  I like that edge seared and the steak medium rare.  Say, I ought to be a-closin’ with that poem on steaks, by Vance Wampler.

               Here’s to that steak

               Thick and juicy and sizzlin’

               Cooked in the camp tent

               When the weather was drizzlin’

               With scaldin’ black coffee

               Ate that steak with my knife.

               Now…what’s better in life?

Dad’s yuh be havin’ a good day.  An’ don’t forget the advice from this ol’ fence post–check yur cinch.  That’s includes raisin’ yur kids right–cinch them up.

          Vaya con Dios.

                    –Elmer Kelton  (Six-Bits A Day)

 

“From this valley they say…” come in this kitchen, Pard, I was just hummin’ up a mournful tune ’bout a gal leavin’ the country.  Those ol’ cowpokes sure had a lonely life out there herdin’ them bovines.  ‘Course, loneliness comes in all sorts of ways.  Why I’ve known folk to be lonely in New York City with all them people a movin’ ’bout.  “Course yuh can’t talk to none of them, they might think yuh were gonna rob them or at the least harass them.  Hmpf, some of them need some harassin’ that’s for plumb sure.

     Here yuh go, Pard.  I know that’s why yuh came by for this cup of pure deeelight.  Watch it for it’s mighty hot, but blow on it a bit and when yuh go to swaller it yur ol’ gizzard will be plumb tickled.  It’ll help yuh see yur way through all the foolishness that’s a-goin’ on ’round us.  Why, listen to this that happened just a week ago.  A police chaplain ended his prayer “in Jesus’ name.”  Quite fittin’ for a preacher don’t yuh think?  

     Well, the powers that be, wrote the chaplain a letter rebukin’ him, an’ tellin’ him to never do that again.  Here we have a preacher of the gospel of Jesus Christ bein’ warned not to use the name of Jesus in his prayers.  Now is that absurd or not?  Take a deep lingerin’ sip for what comes next we’ll get yuh riles if’n yur not prepared.  This here chaplain was informed that utterin’ the name of Jesus was, an’ I’m goin’ quote direct, so hold on.  It would be “considered harassment, created a hostile work environment, and lifted one religion above another.”  Now how ’bout them apples?  They were told they could pray using any other name for God, but the “specific use of ‘Jesus’ would not be permitted going forward.”

     If’n that don’t cause the gall to rise up in yur stomach!  In the name of Allah would be alright, or in the name of Buddha, or in the name of Hoo-Doo, but oh no, not in the name above all names–Jesus!  Took place in, yuh guessed it, California.  But it could happen most anywheres.  Folks ain’t fearin’ the Lord no more.  An’ I’m talkin’ ’bout a healthy fear, not no shakin’ fear, but that’s probably what’s needs to happen.  The Lord just grabbin’ them by the scruff of the neck and givin’ them a good shake tellin’ them to now listen here…

     Haven’t hear nothin’ else ’bout the matter, but it sure is something to be sure.  Pard, I think that ol’ city manager has done fell on his noggin’ too many times.  There ain’t a lick of sense left.  Let’s finish this pot, for there’s plenty to be done the rest of the day.  Glad yuh stopped by…an’ I know I don’t have to be a-tellin’ yuh–check yur cinch or yuh might end up with nothin’ left in yur noggin’ like that feller.

       Vaya con Dios.