The Wedding(s) Blog #1 (Getting Ducks in a Row)

       Wedding season is in full swing and this year, Teresa and I are in full "I Do" mode. No, we're not renewing our vows. We're traveling approximately 2,200 miles for weddings in Baton Rouge, Louisiana and Nashville, Tennessee.

Jack and Allison

         The answer(s) to the obvious question(s) is/are: My nephew Zachary Richmond is marrying Nadia Kelley in Baton Rouge June 10th. Then, my son, Jack is marrying Allison Grant June 23rd in Nashville.

Nadia and Zach

        We thought there's no point driving all the way to Baton Rouge, driving back to Snyder and then driving all the way to Nashville and then back to Snyder. So, we're making a wedding(s) road trip. We'll be in one vehicle. My younger sister, Julia, and my mom, Marianne, will be in another vehicle. The jury's still out whether this road trip is a good idea. I'll keep you posted along the way.

     Right now, we're near the end of the 'getting our ducks in a row' phase of taking such a long road trip. There is light at the end of the tunnel, but no doubt about it.... it's been a tunnel.

     It's not like we just found out about these back to back weddings, separated by 589 miles (B-R to N'ville. The longest drive is from Snyder to just about anywhere.) We've known since this time last year. But as the weeks and days before leaving decreased, the 'what in the world' factor exponentially increased.

     We have our outfits, our new shoes, our bills paid and arrangements made to take care of things while are on the road. But getting to this point, cost a friggin' fortune!! I'm NOT complaining. I'm just addressing the Elephant in the Living Room. That's all I'm going to say on that subject.

     We had to do a lot of out of town shopping. Sorry Snyder, but that's the curse of a small town. I probably shouldn't list our itinerary for security reasons. But thankfully, we live in Snyder. That's the blessing of a small town. 

      We blast off 'caravan style' for a two day drive to Baton Rouge, the city where my brother, sisters and I grew up. Only my older sister, Laura, stayed in the area to raise her family. Now, it's her oldest getting married. 

     The service will be at White Oak Plantation, between B-R and New Orleans but closer to Baton Rouge. I think we're all hoping for an inside event considering south Louisiana between February and December is usually like a sauna set on 'miserable.'

     

     From Baton Rouge, we're on the road to Nashville. Julia and mom have a slight detour planned while Teresa and I hope to be in Music City in time to help with any last minute errands leading up to the big day.

      This service will be at Allison's home church followed by a reception in downtown Nashville.  I'm told the reception includes a mashed potato bar. By this point, I hope a real bar is pretty close.

      Stay tuned. 

Bill Robertson, Father and Uncle of the groom(s).

                                       

     
     

   

     Is it just me or has anyone else noticed there are certain things that are going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible..... Or, nearly the worst time possible?
     Usually, it's man-made stuff that goes on the fritz at the worst time. But sometimes, it can be other things too... but in my experience, it's usually the man-made stuff. If I didn't know better, I'd think it was a conspiracy.

     For this post's purposes, I have a personal example, a friend's example and a third example that affects more people than you might think in this part of the world.

May in Snyder

   
     Take one look at the picture on the left. Snyder at 72. No big deal. But then look at the high temps for the rest of the week.
     I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count as to what man-made device is NOT working very well at our house.

     You guessed it. Our air conditioning's struggling and not doing a very good job at that!
      Our situation I think is a perfect example of my lead sentence.... Has anyone else noticed there are certain things that are going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible.

     Thank goodness for fans and A LOT of deodorant!

   

Memorial Day Water Leak

         The next example of bad luck, poor timing and a general pain in the fanny situation comes via a friend. We passed by his office today and spotted his truck.
        Our brief text conversation sums up the surprise and unwelcome situation.

Our Text Talk

     This is perfect instance of 'if something completely unexpected and most certainly unwanted' is going to happen somehow it seems to happen at the worst time possible.
     
     Ben and Rod, who are referenced in this text, aren't holiday workers. They pull plenty of long hours more than their fair share days of the year to take off on the holidays.

      And I know everyone included in this water leak fiasco is a family person and at least two or more have incredible appetites for good beef.
     
     So on this holiday, that so many use as a 'family grilling get together' opportunity, this water leak would definitely qualify for the bad timing, rotten luck, really frustrating type of  unexpected and unwanted interruption.

     There is one more example of a bad timing, rotten luck interruption that's not man-made, but affects so many in west Texas.
       It's the call from the sheriff's office that sounds something like the following:

The Dreaded Cow Call

       The phone rings. The caller I-D shows SCSO.
 
       "Hello."
       "Mr. Robertson?"
       "Yes." Of course, anytime anyone calls me Mister or William it's not going to end well.
       "This is Deputy Jones with the Scurry County Sheriff's Office. You have cows out."
       It's not a question. It's a statement.
       "I do? Where? How many?"

      You get the point. The call's completely unexpected and usually at the wrong time. I can't think of a single time that we got that call that it wasn't at the very least inconvenient if not absolutely the worst timing possible.

     Cows are funny. They don't get through a fence Monday through Friday during regular business hours. And when they get out at night, not only are they usually Black Angus cows, they usually escape their pastoral prison with superior bad timing.

      Once, I got the SCSO call while we were hosting a Christmas dinner party for 75 people. I left, got the cow back in the pasture and fixed the fence before dessert.
      Another time, a big red bull got out and dodged capture for about an hour in a driving rain and hail storm.

     So, the question; why are certain things going to go wrong and usually at the worst time possible issue crosses the man-made vs. natural line. I suppose we can't do anything about it other than acknowledge the issue with a rhetorical question. Of course, why wouldn't you break or get out at any other time.?

Bill Robertson, Once my water froze when I had a house full of company expecting/hoping for their morning showers.
   

Mother's Day: Flower Power & County Roads

     There are a lot of good things in life, but one of the GREAT things is putting a smile on someone's face. T & I owe a giant debt to our friends Theresa and Rodney Dupree who own and operate The Blossom Bucket in Snyder. For the second year, they asked us to help deliver flowers for Mother's Day.  Mother's Day isn't their Super Bowl, but it's darn close.

Rodney & Theresa Dupree

     Mother's Day of course is on a Sunday. It's always on a Sunday. In a bit, I'll explain the "dumbass charge" I think Rod & Theresa should implement. But first, more about our day(s) of delivering in the "Bucket."

"The Bucket"

     Our delivering began on the Wednesday before Mother's Day. We're veterans so we get assigned the "Bucket," very possibly the roughest riding mode of transportation since the covered wagon. I mean if we hit a pebble, it sounded like a gunshot. If we were in a big city, I'd think someone was trying to 'pop a cap' in us. Still, the "Bucket" is fast and very well air conditioned.
     The way it works is: Customers call or come in to place their orders. We literally walk in and out the back door and very rarely venture beyond the backroom.

Flower Power Team

      The 'middle' room looks like the picture to the right. Theresa and a team of flower artists have a station. They have more knives, scissors and assorted trimming tools than Meredith Grey.
     Rodney generally takes all the orders and somehow the paperwork gets to a station and then VIOLA! Theresa and the flower artists knock out dozens and dozens of arrangements.      We simply walk in, pick 'em up and head off in the "Bucket."
     The turnaround's usually pretty darn quick. We walk in and we walk out with usually four to eight deliveries per trip,,,, depending on where we're going. And where we're going can many times prove very interesting.

Ready for Delivery

     Theresa (Dupree) has a sweet policy. They'll deliver only within the city limits for Valentine's Day, but county wide for Mother's Day. Theresa's reason is simple. Too many moms live in the county and simply can't drive into town to pick up their yellow, purple, red or rose' arrangement. So, we, the deliverers, put some serious mileage on the "Bucket."
      Granted Snyder's a small town and Scurry county's sparsely populated, but.... that doesn't mean we know where we're going all the time.
       If a delivery's in town, Teresa (Robertson) usually knows the people because most times she taught them or their children in the fifth grade. If the delivery's out in the county, that's where Rodney is Mr. Direction. I suspect he's never, ever been lost in Scurry county. If you ever need directions, give him a call. His cell is 555-Not-Lost.

She Love Me

     I think it's safe to say that I see more of Scurry County when we're delivering for The Blossom Bucket than I see at any other time of the year.
      By now, maybe you've seen my Facebook post of my pretty cow. I've decided to call her Gladys.
      We came across Gladys, and I mean really came across Gladys because she wouldn't get out of the driveway, while delivering to a home north of Snyder.... pretty far north.
      Gladys finally moved and gave me this come hither look as we were leaving. You can't really tell from my picture, but Gladys is quite 'with child.' I wonder if Gladys was giving me a 'what about me' kind of look.
      Not all deliveries are a jump out, drop-off and get back in the "Bucket" scenario.

Rodney in the "Bucket"

     Rodney and Theresa can't turn down other business. In this weekend's case, they had all the Mother's Day deliveries and two funerals.
     Funerals come with big arrangements. Usually, we can drop the roses, violas, irises in a styrofoam holder in the back of the van.  But when it comes to the big stuff, that calls for a Plan B & that's when Rodney becomes "Cargo Man."
      In the picture, Rodney is bracing about four large arrangements plus the three or four other arrangements braced on tripods. I'm just glad he chose to ride in the back and didn't ask me to hold everything while he drove.
     The funny thing is, the whole while we were delivering with Rodney holding on for dear life, we were talking politics, the future of Snyder and telling stories. Then, he rode back to the shop in the back. His fanny had to hurt.
      Now to my "dumbass" suggestion.  President Woodrow Wilson signed a proclamation in 1914 making Mother's Day the second Sunday in May.  My math is bad, but I think that was 104 years ago that Mother's Day has been held on the second Sunday in May. 104 years!!!
      But..... and this is big..... You'd be surprised by the volume of people (not only men,) who wait til the last few hours to buy anything for Mother's Day.
     So, I suggested a "dumbass" fee to Rodney and Theresa. Of course, they'd never do it, but here's how I see it happening.

     It's the Friday afternoon or later before Mother's Day Sunday and a customer walks into The Blossom Bucket or really any other flower shop. The conversation might look like this....

     "Hi! Can we help you?" asks the business owner.
     "Uh... yeah. I need something for Mother's Day."
     "Okay. Great. We can help you. We have this, this and this."
     "Uh, how much are these?"
     "$49.99 and we can deliver them if you'd like."
     "Ok. I'll take them and yes. I'd like them delivered."
     "Great. That'll be $84.99."
     "Uh... ok... I thought you said $49.99. Is it extra for delivery?"
     "I did and no. We charge a $25 dollar dumbass fee."
     "What?"
     "Yeah. This isn't the first Mother's Day. In fact Mother's Day has been around on the same weekend for 104 years."
     "So, you're charging me for waiting til the last minute?"
     "Yes because you're a dumbass."
     "Okay. I'll take 'em. Can I borrow a pen to fill out the card?"

     Theresa and Rodney would never do this. In fact, they let us leave around 6:00 pm on the Saturday before Mother's Day. But I'm pretty sure they fired up the "Bucket" to make some late deliveries. That's how they roll. They know that the flower arrangement is $49.99, but the smile is worth a MILLION DOLLARS.

     Good job. FLOWER POWER!!

Bill Robertson, Just because people say they live in Hermleigh--they really don't.

Graduation, Late Bartenders and an Active Shooter

     We came to Tennessee for my baby boy's college graduation, but first we got freakishly close to an active shooting scenario.

     The easiest way to tell this story is in chronological order, but to address the lead sentence... There was a deadly active shooter situation at the Opry Mills Mall in Nashville, less than half a mile from our accommodations and in the exact location where we were walking less than 28 hours ago.

     Here's how we got to this point. Teresa and I are in Tennessee for my youngest son, Joe's, college graduation from Tennessee Tech University. For the first time in many times to visit, we flew. We had a 5:50am flight out of Lubbock through Dallas Love Field to Nashville.

     We decided to spend the night in Lubbock before our flight. I'm cheap. So we picked the lowest priced full service hotel. Big mistake! Suffice it to say, the lost reservation, the overly cheery check-in lady and then the late bartender were NOT a good start to our expedition to Tennessee.
      Things improved with a great Club Sandwich and perfect onion rings, but when they didn't give us our wake-up call and we found leftover coffee and coffee grounds in our in-room coffee maker the next morning... that pretty much crossed them off our list for any future visits.

     We flew Southwest. I pretty much closed my eyes till we landed in Nashville. But everything was fine. We rented a car. It's a 2019 Jeep Cherokee and for whatever reason it turns itself off at every stop. The car's great, but that turning off to presumably save fuel's gotta go!

     Fast forward to our connection to this shooting at Nashville's Opry Mills Mall. Just yesterday, we had lunch at Chuey's and then took a walk inside the mall while waiting for our room to be ready.
     We walked by the exact location of the shooting. We even pointed out to ourselves the exact stores where the shooting happened.... Old Navy and Annie's Pretzels.

     Okay if you've read this far and want to know more, here are some more precise details and conversations that we experienced within the last couple hours.
     The day began with a short drive from Nashville to Cookeville for lunch with Joe and his longtime girlfriend Sharon. Great visit. Not so good lunch. The lesson is and probably has been for many years is: Don't expect much when your college aged child recommends any place for a meal.

     Our drive back to Nashville was uneventful until our exit. First, there was a road sign saying "Exit 11 North closed at Briley Pkwy." Then, cop car after cop car after cop car. All with their sirens blaring. I didn't know where Exit 11 was but we were headed that way.

     As it just so happened, T wanted to get her toes done. I wanted to stop at the grocery store for supper tonight with Jack back at our accommodations. T got into "Snappy Nails." I parked and walked toward the next door grocery store.

     While I'm smoking outside, as I can't smoke in the car that kills itself at every stop, I notice a young couple pacing outside the store.
     "Sir," I heard a thickly accented man's voice say.
     "Sir."
     I can tell from his accent he's from out of town. The young woman with him isn't saying anything. She's just kind of hanging out behind him.
      "Sir, can I have a cigarette? She's upset."
      "Uh, yeah."
      "Got a light?"
      I gave him my lighter. He fired up while the woman still hung back. His accent was thick but understandable. He was dark skinned with dark hair. She was light skinned but not in an American, freckled kind of way. She also wore a lot of jewelry including a Star of David around her neck.
      "We just ran and got a ride to here."
      "What?"
      "We ran from the shooting at the mall."
      "You were there?"
      "Yes, we left everything. My wallet, my keys, everything."
      "What happened."
      "It was gang related. There were only three shots. It wasn't terrorism. We're from Israel."
      "You know it wasn't terrorism because you're from Israel."
      "Yes, we've had experience with terrorism."
      "You work at the mall?"
      "Yes."
       "Where, at one of the kiosks? What do you sell?"
      "Flat irons."

     I gave the man a couple more cigarettes and went into the store. By this time, the mall shooting's big news inside. Meantime, I can hear the sirens still blaring even through the closed, sliding doors.

      Time passed as I wondered the aisles waiting for T as "Snappy Nail." After that, the trick was (and still is) getting back to our accommodations. At this writing, Exit 11's still closed. The road to our place is blocked by police cruisers. The good news for us was/is, we found a back way to our room. But even getting into our compound, we had to prove our identity to security. In fact, Jack was supposed to come over for supper but due to the chaos we've decided it's better that we re-schedule for another day.

      Although the situation's much calmer now, the hard truth is a 22 year old is dead and another 22 year old is in police custody.

Bill Robertson
   
     

A One Armed DCOS

     I am writing in response and opposition to an editorial in The Snyder Daily News dated Saturday, April 28, 2018 by publisher Bill Crist. The title of the editorial was "Let the economic development begin."

     First let me say that I agree, DCOS funds should not be used for throwing parties being organized as fundraisers. In fact, I don't think any group receiving tax dollars should release that money for parties as fundraisers because the formula simply does not work. But that's a topic for a later discussion.

    My opposition to Mr. Crist's editorial, and we've amicably debated the issue many times, is he and many others feel the current charter of the DCOS should remain as its mission. That is a charter that focuses almost exclusively on enticing industrial and manufacturing to Snyder for job creation and economic diversity.

     Mr. Crist wrote, "it (DCOS) was created by the voters to increase the number of jobs here." He also wrote, "For the DCOS to take its eye off that prize would be a mistake." It's that opinion that prompted my response.

     The current DCOS charter is like sending a boxer into the ring with one hand tied behind his back. What harm would it do to change to a Type B or Municipal Development District corporation? I realize that takes an election and that takes taxpayer dollars. But isn't that a small price to pay to potentially grow and diversify Snyder's currently overwhelmingly narrow economic base?  

     Leaving the DCOS to operate with its current, narrow charter and to expect different results is a very reactive approach to take for our community's future and one proven not to work exceptionally well. Want more jobs? Want more diversity? Want more economic growth? Try something new, I say. What can it hurt to untie the boxer's arm to give him a fighting chance in the ring of potential progress?

Bill Robertson
   

   

My First Time

     I had a new first this past weekend. We've all had a 'first time.' We've had the kind you can talk about and we've had the kind we can't or shouldn't talk about.

     I think this 'first' is safe to talk about. I went to church this past Sunday with Teresa and I wore shorts. I never dreamt I'd ever wear shorts to church. I've seen people wear shorts to church, but didn't think I'd ever go sans pants.

     Before I post anymore, I must say that I wore nice shorts and a nice shirt and pretty decent shoes... with socks!
     I don't know what has kept me from wearing shorts to church. I guess it's because I'm 55 years old and I was raised back in the day when dads wore suits and little boys wore clip-on ties. Of course, those were also the days when church was absolutely no fun.

     Boy, do I remember hating to go to church. I have a very clear memory of living in San Antonio. We went to church ever Sunday and I remember EVERY Sunday hoping my mom and dad would forget to wake me up.
     Not only did they wake me up, we also were the family that stopped at Dunkin' Donuts for donut holes for their Sunday school class. We went to church and I don't think I was ever excited about it. I did like the donut holes as I remember.

    I also remember when I asked my dad to show me Jesus. I don't remember what church, but it was after the service. We were standing outside... visiting. Really, mom and dad were visiting. I was probably fidgeting. Anyway, I asked dad. He took me into the sanctuary and pointed to the stained glass above the alter, you know... the 1970s church with the back wall always with the stained glass.        "There's Jesus," he said as he pointed to the glass.
     "Where?"
     "There."
     "Oh," I think I said but didn't really get it.

     So, that was church as I remember it; Coat and tie, boring, not fun, and really confusing. The really hard part for me is/was, it really never changed for me over the years.
     I went to an Episcopal school with chapel once a week. I can recite the Nicene Creed by rote. We attended an Episcopal church on the corner, :Later when I married, we even became deacons in a Presbyterian church. But the cold truth for me was, I was all dressed up, but walking away empty handed.

     Many years later, I somehow crossed the border at a church that still wasn't as loose as wearing shorts but gripping, entertaining, informative, enlightening, helpful and educational.
     We had friends who kept inviting us to their big, mega church. I wasn't about to go and sit with a bunch of hand waving fanatics. So, I constantly and consistently said no, but all the while taking my family to our calm, collected, coat and tie wearing Methodist church in Franklin, Tennessee. And then one New Year's eve, I said: "Ok, we'll meet you at your church this Sunday."

     Here's what happened. My family arrived. Our friends were already in their seats... down front... waving to us. "Oh crap," I'm pretty sure I said to myself but probably loud enough for others to hear. Our friends waved us down and we sat... my friend who invited us to my right. My oldest son, Jeff who was about 14 at the time, to my left.
     "Hey," I said to my friend.
     "Hey."
     "Big crowd."
     "Yeah. They're here early because that's when they bring out the snakes."
     "What!!!!"
     He just laughed.
     "You ready for the snakes," Jeff added.
     "Shut up."

     The unquestionable bottom line is: The church, The People's Church in Franklin, TN., and my friend's insistence to try it changed my life. I finally liked going to church. And because I liked going to church, I actually listened. I received the message. I began to understand.

     Since then, my church life's been inconsistent at best. But it was my time at The People's Church that brought me to our Lord and Savior. Somehow, this church had the formula for me. I suspect based on the size of the congregation, this church had the formula for many people.

     I've found a few similar inspiring, enlightening churches like The People Church. Two of my favorites are The Heights Church in Prescott, AZ and my little sister's church Trinity at the Marketplace in Albuquerque.

     I note these because while The People's Church in Tennessee awakened me, The Heights and Trinity liberated me, but simultaneously kept the lamp on the nightstand versus under the blanket.
     The Heights is a lot like The People's Church, but more laid back. Trinity is more hardcore in that the congregation is more diverse, subsequently or presumably more staid, but infinitesimally more casual.
      The good news, at least for me and hopefully others, is the message these three churches deliver gets gladly delivered to all walks of life, no matter the attire. And because of that casualness, the 'want' to go to church is revived, whether you get a chance to go to those churches or you don't.... you still want to go to church vs the old days when... you felt you 'had' to go to church.

     So, I wore shorts to church but I wanted to go to church. I still would've gone, but I felt comfortable going in shorts.
     I think in my dad's very, always very quiet, way with me that he was explaining that while I can't see or hear Jesus, he's right there and he can see and hear me. So maybe his point was, as long as I/we believe in Jesus... It doesn't matter what I/we wear to church.

Bill Robertson, Romans 14:11
   
   

   

Healthy Lifestyle or Diet

     I'm eating more vegetables than I've ever eaten in life! Healthy eating involves a lot of chewing and it's expensive.
     Teresa and I aren't necessarily on a diet, but I will confirm that we are taking a decidedly heathier approach to our eating habits.
 
     Before I write more, I got to tell you that I'm a CRAVER. I have been for as long as I remember. I go to the store everyday after I've had my craving. Unfortunately now, my cravings for chili dogs, cheeseburgers, meatloaf with mashed potatoes, Chinese, Mexican, steak, bar-b-que and the like are off the table. Now, we're ignoring the cravings and shopping for healthier fare.

     The truth is there are a lot of healthy recipes out there. But, the hard truth is they just don't have that 'Mmmm, I want seconds taste.' For example, cauliflower rice just isn't the same as sticky rice no matter how much soy sauce I want to add.

     And what really strikes me is, we're told by just about every expert on earth that we should eat veggies, fruits, lean meats and avoid processed foods. That's fine, but how come I can buy enough 'fun food' for a week and it costs the same as healthy food for one night?

     Did I ever tell you that I once paid $2.99 for one orange! For that price, I could've bought a bag of crunchy Cheetos that would have lasted me two or three roast beef sandwiches on rye lathered with mustard and mayonnaise.

     Still, we're trying. So far, I've eaten a lot of fish, a lot of chicken, a lot of cauliflower, a lot of broccoli, a lot spinach and a lot of other chewy stuff. It's all decent.

     Tonight's menu is Taco SALAD. The caps on the salad part of the menu. I'm anticipating lots of chewing.
     If I could, I'd have hot n' sour soup, crab Rangoon, Beef and broccoli with a side of steamed dumplings or a big, fat cheeseburger with a side of onion rings and a spicey 'come back sauce' or meatloaf with bleu cheese mashed potatoes or a country breakfast with more meat and gravy than any vein can take.

Bill Robertson,  gotta admit the healthy stuff does come with a good night's sleep.