–C.J. Petit  (South of Denver)

 

Mornin’ to yuh, Pard.  Don’t yuh be frettin’ none, I wouldn’t offer yuh no day’s old coffee.  Nope, mine is directly off’n the stove, hot, strong and ready to swallow.  Now, I didn’t bother with listenin’ to no jawin’ and lyin’ the other night.  Didn’t figure my gizzard could take it, and no amount of coffee would be able to wash it away.

     I’m speakin’ of the State of the Union.  I’m sorry Pard, I read where David wouldn’t take a hand against Saul, but this fellow portrayin’ our President just riles up my innards something fierce.  Yuh want to talk about the state of the Union, well, come along with me to the grocery.  Just let yur eyes gander at the price of a steak.  Why a week ago, I posted that the missus and I both had filet mignon for five dollars.  Now they couldn’t even sell a piece of gristlely meat for that price.  I know, I know, that was a few years back, but even so, Pard, the economy is in poor shape.

     It isn’t that it looks bad, unless yuh check yur wallet or glance in yur bank account.  It’s goin’ up in every direction.  I was just checkin’ my house insurance, up three hundred dollars from last year.  I happened to be gettin’ the steel mount some work done on it, and just glimpsed at a set of tires–$1300.  Instead of a steel belt, they must have some gold mixed in with it.  Sooner or later somethin’ has to bust wide open.  Yep, we still have the goods, at least for now, but can we afford it.

     That ol’ crooner, Eddy Arnold used to sing, “I don’t have a dime in this old worn out jeans, so I’ll stop eatin’ steak and go back to beans…”  That’s not sayin’ that steak is a regular fare for the supper table, but yuh know what I’m a-sayin’.  Pard, go ‘head and drink, don’t be lettin’ by jabberin’ cause yur coffee to get cold.  That would be like listenin’ to that speech all over again.  Speakin’ of that, and that we’re all doin’ well, I heard that there’s a new definition for the “status quo”–that’s you and me, Pard.  Today’s meanin’ speaks of the state of the union, the status quo is now defined as “the mess we’re in!”

     I keep tellin’ yuh, more and more we best be trustin’ in the Lord.  Ain’t no man gonna get us out of this mess.  He won’t have us eatin’ no feathers, and if need be He might even send some of that manna down from above.  He’ll see us through, don’t yuh be forgettin’ that!  Yuh pack yur gun, be wary of yur surroundin’s, stay away from cinos, and check yur cinch, and yu’ll make it through another week–Lord willin’.

        Vaya con Dios.

                    –Lou Bradshaw  (Palouse)

 

Get in here, Pard.  Don’t let the wind blow yuh away!  I don’t see the trees swayin’ so I reckon yur safe this mornin’, but yuh never know, one of them mighty gusts could come up at any time and then yuh’d be in a fix.  Hmmm, course lookin’ at yur girth yuh might only weave a bit.  March, the windy month.  Whooeee, that wind can blow.  We was in Wyomin’ once and low and behold, the wind didn’t blow.  First an’ only time I was ever in Wyomin’ without some kind of wind.  Yuh see, Granny was with us, and she didn’t like the wind, not even a breeze, for some reason it bothered her physically and the good Lord saw fit not to have the wind blowin’ that day.

       Pard, the coffee’s strong this mornin’.  Can yuh smell it?  Ahhh, it’ll get yuh goin’, those innards of yurs will be singin’ happy tunes.  I was thinkin’ Pard, I do that once in a while, that there are all sorts of things brought in by the wind.  There are winds of glad tidin’s and winds that speak of bad omens.  There are winds that will blow yuh off yur feet, and not necessarily the natural type.  There are winds of adversity, and winds that bring the dust a flyin’.  There are those massive tornadoes, then there are the little dust devils that twirl round and round.  There are howlin’ winds, and there are the soft gentle breezes that sure lighten up the soul.  Then there are those blue northers that can sweep through and worry on the bones, but just as quickly there can follow a warm Chinook.  Yep, Pard, yuh just be ready, for this is March, the month of the winds.

       Ahhh, coffee sure hits the spot this mornin’.  I saw a photo recently:  “hot cakes and coffee–10 cents.”  It was not that long ago–1949.  I can remember when coffee came with a meal, it was part of the bargain.  Another little piece of nostalgia, when I was in college we’d go once in a while to the Sycamore Inn to get a cinnamon roll and coffee.  I think it came to 50 cents or 75 cents.  I would always drink enough coffee, it was a dime, to pay for my roll.

       Drink up Pard, I’ve one more story to tell.  I wrote one day last week about work, how important it is, and that we are sore in need of good, quality workers today.  My Grandpa Jones owned a small, yet busy cafe on the corner of Arapaho and 14th Street, next to the Boulder High School.  Back in the spring of 1950, my Mom who was normally a waitress became one of the cooks as Grandpa wouldn’t let her wait tables ’cause she was pregnant with me.  The day before I was born, she fried up 150 hamburgers.  Hmm, imagine that in today’s society.  Yuh know, that’s probably the reason I like hamburgers so much.  Oh, and Grandpa’s nickname was “Wimpy.”  Some of you ol’ timers will understand.

       So, Pard, head on out into the wind.  Pull yur hat down tight, check yur cinch, be trustin’ in the Lord, and ride safe.

        Vaya con Dios.

                    –C. Wayne Winkle  (Frank Bannon–The Fixer)

 

Watch out, Pard!  I’m comin’ through with two cups of freshly brewed, very hot coffee.  Grab yur chair, and get situated.  Ahhh, good coffee, hot, strong, and black, just the thing t’ get yuh goin’.  

     Pard, let me tell yuh, I was some riled yesterday.  Someone broke into the coffee shop in downtown Coldspring.  Good folks own that place and someone did them evil.  The Lord knows and will take care of things in the long run, but it just irks me somethin’ fierce when good folk are done wrong like that.  Hope they catch that guy; he needs to be taken behind the barn and slapped silly.  Cruel and unusual?  Nah, it fits his stupidity and tryin’ to take something that ain’t his.  ‘Course most likely that wouldn’t do him any good.  Very little rehabilitation or reform…that is, unless they find the Lord.

     Sure was a busy week.  Lots of errands needed to be run, chores around the homestead.  Also pressin’ news that I won’t go into, but life hits hard sometimes.  Nah, don’t be a-worryin’, none of the pressin’ news hit us directly, but it shor does make a body wonder what’s happenin’.  But in spite of all the business, we are here now, and, oh Pard, I didn’t mean for yur cup to go dry.  Don’t want that fine brew to go to waste…  hmmm, good thing coffee ain’t fattenin’, that is unless yuh start to fancyin’ it all up, addin’ frills to it.

     Like I was a-sayin’, it was a busy week, but the missus and I did our civic duty.  We got out an’ voted.  Listen, and I mean listen tight!  Yuh best be votin’!  This election is one of the most crucial in our history.  Lots at stake, part of it is the soul of America.  There’s plenty of evil out there that want to tear the heart from this great country.  Whether they realize it or not, they’re doin’ the devil’s biddin’.  Ahh, but Pard, we know what the eternal result’s gonna be.

     I see yuh’ve drunk yur fill, ’cause the pot’s empty.  Makes me smile to know that I’ve helped yuh get a good start to yur day.  Now mount up, check yur cinch first, and get on yur way.  Oh, Pard–don’t forget to vote!

      Vaya con Dios.

                    –C. Wayne Winkle  (Yancey’s Ride)

 

Mediocrity!  I hate that word, always have.  When I was in the military one of the slogans was, “Close enough for government work.”  But no, close enough doesn’t make it, Pard.  Think of those packin’ parachutes–close enough.  Or ammunition, the powder is close enough to bein’ a full load, or puttin’ fuel in a vehicle or plane, that’s close enough, it’s almost full.  

     Sorry for my rantin’ this early, Pard.  Let’s get to the important stuff–a cup of hot, steamin’, black coffee.  Just right to make the ol’ gizzard light up.  Perhaps I was just raised to do a good job, and add to that the words of that ol’ Apostle, “do all as unto the Lord.”  Let me back up, soon as I take a deep swaller of this elixir.  Ahhh…  The missus and I had to drive an hour away to get labs done for our doctor’s appointments next week.  When we got into the lab, we were told by the technician that the doctor had not sent in the request.  An hour’s drive, an appointment comin’ up, and no request for blood work.  It almost jerked my jaws, but to what use?  

     Maybe, but I doubt it, that those in the doctor’s office responsible for sending in the lab request aren’t considered professionals.  But still, they represent the doctor, and what about their responsibility?  I know there are good doctors out there, and they do marvelous things, but they depend almost solely on lab reports.  They don’t even listen to yur heart to see if it’s still tickin’ or on beat.  What happens if yur havin’ local surgery, say like I did a couple of years ago with the removal of cataracts and the doctor says “Oops” or “close enough for medical work.”

     I need another cup before goin’ on.  Reminds me of the old story, “for want of a nail.”  A  farrier tried to save on nails and slighted the shoe one, it came off on a very important mission and for want of a nail the kingdom was lost.  Mediocrity, half-heartedness, ho-hum attitude–that’s part of what’s plaguin’ our country.  Don’t bother me with the details, just give me my paycheck.

     One more cup and the pot will be nigh empty.  Time for one more spiel b’for yuh have to leave.  I’m sure glad the Lord yelled out, “It is finished!” on the cross.  He hung on despite the pain and ridicule to take on the sins of mankind.  He faced the greatest spiritual battle anyone could face.  It wasn’t half-hearted; it wasn’t just “good enough,” but it was finished, done right, complete.  Makes me want to clog in the kitchen.  

     We drank that pot dry in a hurry, I had more to say, but reckon it’ll wait for another time.  Yuh best be on yur way.  Go ahead an’ waddle to yur hoss, yeah, I noticed it, too many chocolates for Valentines.  That bein’ said, yuh gotta make sure yuh check that cinch.  That extry weight yur carryin’ might do yuh in.

        Vaya con Dios.