–Charles Portis  (True Grit)

 

Back in the ol’ days that might have happened to me.  Back in the days when I used to tromp through the woods, I might have a drop or two of coffee hanging from a hair of my moustache, but most likely not as I don’t like to waste a drop.  Once in a while Annie will poke at my moustache saying that I need to wipe it.  See, it’s mostly gray, but there is one spot with a little brown left in it.  

       Speakin’ of coffee, I’ve sure been enjoyin’ the gifts I receive every month.  The youngest daughter enrolled me in a coffee club from which I receive a bag of coffee from a different country every month.  This here that yur drinkin’ is from Nicaragua.  Good stuff.  Go ahead yuh can nod yur head.  Now, I’m not one of them conissewers…I can’t taste the intricate flavors.  I have one that says there is a hint of honey, butter, and yellow raisin.  When I taste it, I taste coffee.  Guess I wouldn’t make a good taster.  All I want for mine is to be black, strong, and preferably smooth–something that makes my innards all comfortable.

       So, Pard, taste anythin’?  That there Nicaragua coffee is supposed to give yuh a hint of caramel, custard, and banana.  What d’ya taste?  Can’t taste it ’cause yuh burnt yur tongue?  My mercy Pard…  Yuh sip it first to check how hot it is.  Sometimes Pard yuh just make me shake my head.

        I see there’s an uproar as the snowflakes and twinkies might be gettin’ their student loans removed.  Listen yuh fools, nothin’s free.  Somebody’ll have to pay for yur loan, that money can’t just disappear, but ‘course yuh don’t care as long as yuh get a free ride.  One day, I’m givin’ yuh a warnin’ there will be an accountin’.

       But I don’t want to spoil the mornin’ talkin’ ’bout the stupidity of dismissin’ debt that is rightly owed.  I want to get back to tastin’.  A Scripture that has been flittin’ through my noggin’ is that one that tells us to “taste and see that the Lord is good.”  I think it is there in Psalm 34.  Now, how does one go about tastin’ the Lord?  Yuh for sure don’t go up and lick Him.  But there are other ways to taste.  For example, when there’s bakin’ goin’ on in Annie’s kitchen, yuh can not only smell the aroma, but yuh can’t actually get a taste of that pie or bread or cookies.  Why Pard, yuh could taste the coffee this mornin’, it made yuh comfortable.  Nah, the Lord don’t taste like banana, or carmel, or custard, but there is a comfort when yur with Him.  There is a special flavor about His presence that can for sure be identified–yuh know when He’s present with yuh…yuh can taste Him.

       See that verse goes on to tell of His blessin’s.  That’s the way we taste the Lord…through His blessin’s.  Why Pard yuh know He blessed yuh today ’cause I noticed yur cinch is loose and yuh didn’t fall on yur coconut and split it open.  That’s a blessin’, not get it cinched tight and yuh can think of tastin’ the Lord this week.

         Vaya con Dios.

                         –D. C. Adkisson  (Winter of the Wolves)

 

What do you mean, what am I doin’?  What’s it look like?  I just finished cleanin’ the Greener, and now I’m almost done with the ol’ Winchester .44-40.  Always keep my revolver cleaned, oiled, and ready for use.  Sit on down, I’ll put this away and pour us some coffee.  Have to be gettin’ on down the trail to San Antone.  Another good one has crossed over the Great Divide and the missus and me are goin’ to pay our last respects to his family.

       Go ahead, take a swaller, but remember it’s hot, and I’ll tell yuh why I’m cleanin’ up the heavy firepower.  Yuh may remember, I know it was before yur time, when ol’ Bill rode the range.  There was an abundance of wolves and they were a murderous lot.  Now, Bill wasn’t much on huntin’ down wolves, he was more into killin’ the buffalo to feed the workers on the railroad, but it was durin’ his time.  The ranchers were havin’ a fit over the wolves.  

       I told yuh it was hot, now it’s drippin’ down off yur chin from where yuh slopped it.  Take it slow, don’t be a coffee guzzler.  But back to the wolves.  Finally, they got the wolves under control and then back here in the last few decades the do-gooders and peace-niks wanted to reintroduce them.  Never did figure that out.  These folk are against predators, yet they want one the most notorious and vicious predators back on the loose.  And they are–out there runnin’ wild.  

       But, what I’ve also noticed is that the wolves, the two-legged kind, are multiplyin’ as well.  They’re vicious and will tear at yur soul.  Many of them were put away for a while but in the last decade they’ve been sneakin’ in and out of the churches.  They’ve been hidin’ themselves pretty well with sheep clothin’, but now they’re gettin’ more and more hungry.  They are snarlin’, droolin’ ready to devour anyone–baby, young, old, weak, lame.  They’ve started comin’ out of hidin’ and usin’ a new name–Progressive.

       So Pard, I’m gettin’ ready for them.  It’s not my last roundup yet, so I’m ready should they attack.  Yuh know they go for the innards first.  They’ll try to bring yuh down by slashing with their vicious teeth to tear yur liver or heart right out of yuh.  Sure hope yuh are watchin’ as yuh right hither and yon.  They’re out there, ready to pounce and rip at yuh.  That’s one reason yuh have to check that cinch.  Yuh could be ridin’ along and one of them wolves spring at yuh.  A nudge from yur spur will get ol’ Highball a goin’ and rarin’ and then…they cinch lets go and yur at the mercy of those ravenous wolves.  

       Vaya con Dios.

                         –D.C. Adkisson  (Trouble at Gregory Gulch)

 

Cup’s on the table, sit yurself down and I’ll get the pot and pour yuh some.  I know Pard, yur like me in that way, yuh seldom turn down a cup of coffee.  Why I’ve even been known to drink Starbucks if given to me, but this ol’ fence post won’t be buyin’ any from that company.  No siree, not with their outspoken liberal ways, not to mention the price.  

       Pard, I’ve had some bad tastin’ stuff that people pawn off as coffee and I’m not talkin’ ’bout the cinos either.  Church coffee, for instance.  Most church coffee is like flavored water.  It may be hotter than the dickens, but it’s so weak why if I didn’t know better I’d think they just dipped some beans in, stirred it around, then took them out.  Now I do have to give some credit to ol’ Mike in San Antonio.  He made some good church coffee, ‘course he spent many years in the military.

       Like the thought written above, I reckon that when yur out on the trail and yuh don’t know what yur drinkin’ if the coffee’s hot enough and strong enough it’ll kill most of the bugs that might have gotten into it, includin’ those invisible ones.  Yuh better look close at it though what you thought was an unground coffee bean that came out the spout might have been a roach.

       Take a deep swaller–ahh, good and satisfyin’ ain’t it.  “Oh, taste and see that the Lord is good,” that’s what good coffee reminds me of.  There may be counterfeits and weak Christians running hither and thither, but give me the satisfying Word of the Lord.  Some want it watered down and I reckon it’s ’cause they have a weak constitution with no gumption or fortitude.  What happens to those weaklin’s when the hard times really hit?  Some wander all around, tastin’ here and tastin’ there and are never satisfied.  That’s ’cause there is no taste or little of it.  They are “social drinkers,” walking around, noddin’ their heads and greetin’ folk with a cup of see-through coffee in their hand or, Lord forbid, a cino.

       Well, Pard, yuh be havin’ a good week.  Don’t drink any weak coffee nor take any wooden nickels.  Be wary of yur surrounds and sit tall in the saddle.  Oh, and don’t be forgettin’ to check yur cinch before mountin’.

       Vaya con Dios.

                    –D.C. Adkisson  (Mal de Ojo)

 

Come on in, the coffee’s strong and hot and ready for guzzlin’, or if yuh prefer sippin’.  Ahh, blacker than the deepest canyon, and mighty tasty.  Shore does make the ol’ gizzard smile.  Pard, did yuh hear?  They’re at it again.  That’s right warnin’ us that the virus will be hittin’ its peak right soon.  Better be gettin’ jabbed, they’re sayin’.  Ptui–power hungry, greedy, control freaks is what they are.  Why all the folk I know that have taken the virus have been vaccinated.  Live in fear is what they want, but for shore that’s something this ol’ fence post ain’t a gonna do.  Oh, but it is election year and with the scare of the virus and the price of gas bein’ lowered–well, what did yuh expect?

       On top of that they’re sayin’ that this here “monkeypox” is a national health threat.  Well, what did they expect?  Go against God’s moral laws and somethin’ is ‘bound to happen.  Foolishness in the mind of man is what is causin’ this along with unfettered lust and mockery of God’s word.  Go ahead, oh thou great man and do what yuh want and then see what will happen.  Then yuh will want someone to fix it or pay for it all the time leavin’ God out.  

       Ahhh, that is shore good coffee this mornin’.  Say, Pard, the granddaughter knows me.  She went on a mission trip to California up near Mt. Whitney.  She brought back to me a nice wooden pen and coffee roasted right there in ol’ Californy.  Good coffee it was too.  Notice, I said was, for there ain’t none left or I’d have perked it up this mornin’.  Oh, and while I speakin’ of coffee, I went to a new little coffee shop yesterday mornin’.  I asked for a cup of coffee and they said they didn’t have any.  I questioned them askin’ if this wasn’t a coffee shop, and received the reply that they didn’t have that kind of coffee–regular coffee, that is.  My, my, what is this world comin’ to and this is rural Texas????

       Well, Pard, yuh better stop now and again to wipe the sweat off yur brow.  It’s hot, but then it is Texas.  The thing is that we need some rain.  Lord, send us some that refreshin’ rain.  Be on yur way, and have a good week.  Don’t forget to remember that the good Lord is smilin’ down on yuh and watchin’ yur step.  With that in mind He is also watchin’ to see if yuh remember to check yur cinch.

             Vaya con Dios.