Books

I did not grow up a reader. I can only remember a few books, one or two, that I read as a child in school. I grew up in a normal school and home setting for the most part, but I don’t remember being a family that read. I had friends along the way that I noticed devoured books and I envied them.

Danny was one of those friends. His parents were well read and they were smart. They talked about politics and things going on in the world. They also read the bible. To this day Danny reads every night before he goes to sleep.

Somewhere along the way, in my mid twenties, I began to read. I think it was Danny who inspired me to read again and the first books I chose. I started reading the James Clavel series Shogun, Taipan and the others. Then I read a couple huge books on mergers and corporate takeovers rolling straight into a series of business biographies. These were all long reads and each time I completed one it became a special trophy, an accomplishment I was very proud of.
When I had my birthday recently I got a book from my wife, Wilderness Challenge by William G. Collins. I read that book over the weekend and loved it. It is now on my favorites list. Another favorite is Waiting for White Horses by Nathan Jorgenson. Both these books took me on an adventure, moved me to thought and emotion. Those are the things I look for in a book. Interestingly these were both first book for the authors.

Reading is a lost art to many. I have a friend, Ben Raider, who is an author. He has written a series of really funny books built around a game warden and his adventures. The problem that he and I have talked about many times is that it is hard to get the guys who would enjoy his books to read them. Outdoor guys are good on magazines, but not necessarily books. I remember once at an event we had tons of kids coming by our booths. He had books, I had stickers and pencils. The kids avoided him and flocked to the free stuff we had. By the end of the weekend we were laughing as he tried to coax kids in to see some literature. A book. They were confused and all but interested. Sad but true.

My kids have been read to almost every night since they were small. They are now good readers. I give that credit to my wife. Her consistency has paid off in dividends that will give to them for life. I love it when they read and tell me about their books. I will buy them almost any book they want to read. I actually have found a used book online is a great buy and I buy them a lot.

I could always read more. I should read more. When I read a book I love to feel it, to laugh and cry and be excited to get back to it. I love the feeling of not wanting to be interrupted or rushing back to it after a day of work or a distraction.

Coming from a high school drop-out background Satan always tries to convince me I am not worthy or smart, but he is wrong. The Lord has blessed me with the ability to read, the gift of emotion and a world of books, including His. I can read the bible everyday and understand something new.

Now I wear reading glasses and they can be a hassle. I have electronic distractions everywhere; I carry one on my side (Blackberry phone). But there is nothing like a book, a story on paper that takes you somewhere, teaches you something or just makes you feel good. So remember what my good buddy Ben Raider says, “Hey kids look, literature – it’s OK”.

Take a minute, enjoy that quiet time. Enjoy the adventure of a book.

The Cowboy Way

I love stories of strong willed resolute people. I hear these tales many times when I talk to our older generations. I hear stories of kids who woke up early to milk the cows then off to school all day then home to work till dark each night. I hear of long days at the office where men built businesses and careers from nothing. I hear of time spent reading, writing (with a pencil) and talking. People set forth to accomplish things and they would not look up until they were complete. Change their lives, change their living conditions just change what needed to be changed.

Today it seems we are getting soft around the waste and in how much we can handle. Society as a whole seems to look for the easy way out. Don’t hear me wrong because I know many who work their fingers to the bone, who love with all their hearts and set their minds to get things done and do. There are those who want everyone to have it easy and comfortable even if they do not do their part, they want others to pick up the slack and make it all better.

Winn McClure grew up ranching and living the “cowboy way”. McClure lives in West Texas and to this day works his cattle ranch, he is 80-years-old. He lives each day with droughts and fences, cattle feed and coyotes, fresh air and quiet time away from everything. When I sat and talked with him recently we talked about God, morals and habits. At one point our conversation turned to smoking. McClure had smoked the old brands of cigarettes that were filter-less and pure nicotine. Four packs a day at his peak. Now anything you do that many times a day then add in an addictive chemical element over many years will hook you.

McClure had a wonderful spin on how he quit cigarettes that got me to thinking about how tough we are and determined as a society today. “Back in 1959,” was how he started his story. “Back then we lived in Odessa and one cold winter afternoon I ran out of smokes.” His wife was in the kitchen making Christmas candy when McClure announced he was out of cigarettes. “Well go to town and get some and get me some raw peanuts for the candy,” she said matter of factly. So he headed into town.

When McClure got to the store they were out of raw peanuts. “I asked for my regular carton of smokes and they told me that would be $3. Three dollars, I told him he was crazy, I would never pay that much for a carton of cigarettes. Then he told me my wife had been paying that for years. I didn’t know cause I never did the grocery shopping. That was it – I told them right then and there if they were gonna cost that much I would just quit.”

That day McClure quit smoking and never started back. I have quit a few unhealthy habits but I don’t think I ever just quit something with that much resolve. I usually squirm and whine as I suffer through it. I just thought what he did was so classic, hard-nosed, set in their ways old timer tough. I have heard ranchers and country folks tell me all types of stories like his. Stories of strong willed individualism and determination for good.

As Americans I don’t think we will ever lose our drive and will to push ahead, not everyone. There will always be mavericks and innovators, winners and losers. No matter where we go as a society we will have men and women who will not fit the mold or settle for less.

The bible tells us stories of those who lived and died because they made a decision and would not waiver. They were convicted of their faith and determined to share that with others. While facing certain death, sitting in prison and even Jesus as he was beaten and crucified stood for what he believed, made the choice to stand in the gap, speak out, to die for what is right. Mr. McClure quit smoking and that was that, done. I pray I can teach my kids to reach for the brass ring, to stretch, to strive to be a winner. I pray my kids are not afraid to share their faith with others and make hard choices. To this day I believe there is something to be said for “the cowboy way.”

By By Blackie

You know there are always things that just seem to become a fixture in your life. Some people have an old shirt, some it’s a chair or a car – things. I have a couple t-shirts that I just cannot give up and they are more comfortable than ever. I don’t wear them in public.

I had a jacket I got after my dad died that I loved. The jacket was leather and it looked a lot like the one worn by Indiana Jones. I actually bought a hat and wore Kaki pants with it every Halloween. One day my bride was clearing out the closet of coats to donate to Coats for Kids and the coat went away. I was so upset. I went that night to the coats warehouse and sifted through thousands of coats to find it and never could. To this day we just don’t talk about it. She didn’t realize what it meant to me and I guess God wanted to bless someone else with it.

One of the first things I did when I moved to Austin was to buy a fishing boat. It was a new, sleek bass boat and I ordered it to match my truck perfectly. My oldest son Cody and I spent years on that ole boat fishing, cruising, hanging out. We got in all kinds of trouble when I would pull him out of school to fish. We laughed when we would get in trouble for him missing a school day or come in late off the water because we just didn’t want to come in. I remember after a long day the drive was quiet and he would ask me if he could rest his eyes. He never wanted to “sleep” if he was with me, just rest his eyes. He would fall asleep in a flash.

One Christmas I bought Cody a pony. Cody was maybe 8 and I hid the pony in the garage, it was a cool Christmas. Blackie was a stubborn little fat black pony. We had a saddle and all the gear. Cody and the kids in the neighborhood would ride him everywhere. It was a little boys dream come true. I forget now all the hassles that came along with him, just the good memories. It was a sad day when we had to finally sell him and the folks drove off down the street with him in their trailer.

That ole bass boat was black. We kept in the garage and took very good care of it. I bought it in 1987. The last few years’ life being what it is I had not gone out in it much. Cody, now 25, began fishing bass tournaments and bought his own home. I gave him the boat. He has used it the last few years to hone his fishing skills and is now a very good tournament bass angler.

Time being what it is, a robber of newness and mechanical health we decided it was maybe time to sell the boat and move on. Last night Cody called and said, “Dad, Blackie is gone. Remember when we watched Blackie (the pony) drive down the street? That is how I feel right now.” I knew what he was feeling.

Cody needs a different boat and I was proud he took such good care of her while he had her. He sold the boat to a nice young man and we hope it serves him well. Things don’t mean much in the end. The memories made on that boat are precious and bonded us close. Thanks Lord for Blackie and the bass boat. Thanks Lord for Cody. Thanks Cody for being a great son. I love you.

Frig in' Dog Thieves

She called my cell from the posting I put on Craigslist looking for information. The story she told me made me really mad. This lady and her young daughter lost their small dog, a Chihuahua I think, just a couple weeks before she called me. The small dog squeezed out of the fenced backyard just moments after he was let out to go to the bathroom. They worked hard putting up posters and posting online, going to the pound every other day. Finally after a week or so she took a new batch of flyer's out and this time she stopped at the large pet retailer in the strip center not far from her home. Here is where I get mad, as she was asking the clerk for permission and telling her story, describing the dog, the clerk next to her perked up and shared about a recent customer she had.

The new customer was a middle age white lady. She came to the register with a cart full of everything you need to make a new dog comfy. A cute bed, food bowls, food, toys, blankets even little sweaters and booties. She talked all about her new dog and how cute he was. She told how she found the little booger walking alone down the road and she saved him. That was it, she rescued him and decided he was hers for the keeping.

Ranger and Lilly were our dogs since my kids were little. Lilly was a wonderful female black lab we got one Easter in the parking lot of a local grocery. The family giving away the puppies assured me she came from a long bloodline of great hunting dogs, sold me. She was as sweet as any dog could be. Ranger was a Father’s Day gift from my wife and kids after I had to put down Bud. Ranger was a full blood Sheppard with all the brains of a turnip but a heart the size of a watermelon. He was, is, however a compulsive fetcher of anything that is not bolted down.

We live next to a park and on occasion the dogs would find their way out, always returning filthy and tired, sometimes covered with skunk or porcupine. They were, are, good dogs and we have been trying to find them since 9/11/2008 when they got out. We have posted on Craigslist, at the pound, and still to this day put out huge posters all over. We still have hope.

Not long ago I got a call just minutes after putting up a poster on near our home. A guy and his kids just picked up two dogs and were taking them to their house. I turned around and rushed to a parking lot to meet them. They were not our dogs, they were big, cute pups, maybe a year or so. The guy said in passing “well I guess I will take them home.” His kids were overly excited about “their “ new dogs. I asked him to please post on Craigslist and call the pound. He said he did not know about any Craigslist and said he would try to find the owners, I have my doubts.

One bright spot from this whole thing was all the loving and kind calls from folks who thought they found Lilly and Ranger, saw them or just giving us tips. It is amazing how many folks care for pets that are not their own. God has a special place for these folks who through their kindness have lifted our family up and cared.

I know someone has Ranger and Lilly. I know the people who have them have not gone to the pound to see if anyone lost them and they have not posted or looked on Craigslist. I guess now, after almost 7 months we have to think about moving on. I pray that our dogs have found a good home and are loved as much as we loved them. I pray that people who find dogs or other lost pets are convicted to try to find an owner. I pray my kids and wife do OK as we work through this time. Thanks to everyone who cares or helps in times like these. Our dogs were, are, family and it is a loss we will not soon get over.

Little Turns and Lessons

I was pretty nervous as I prepared to speak at the wild game dinner. I am not usually uptight about speaking in public and most often jump at the chance. This time however I really wanted to convey a good message and relate a point. It had to include a lot about my childhood experiences and growing up. This is a topic I can talk on for hours.

My concern that I would get off topic kept me on I task. I spent days handwriting, typing, editing, reading and re-reading the speech. The versions changed each time I wrote it and when I finally read it to my wife and pastor they shredded it. It was good they were honest and open with me and I was surprisingly open to their critiques.

From the ashes of reflection into my childhood I learned some things about myself that were wonderful as I wrote. My childhood was not a perfect white picket fence, apple pie, tucked in bed story of love and caring. It was one of trials and challenges, disappointment and struggles, not always, but a lot.

The amazing thing I realized as I was writing them down was that each piece had a part in making me who I am today. There are many amazing and wonderful things, things I would have never imagined, but are now common and every day, like this blog.

In the midst of all the craziness of my childhood during elementary school I wrote a story. I was in the fifth grade and it won a “best in school” honor. It was read in front of the whole school and I received $5 cash.

I remember camping trips from the family station wagon and catching my first fish. The adventure, bears, streams, smells, mountains and the dirt of the outdoors.

I remember as a young teenager being on my own and walking through fields of tall grass in the middle of the night searching for a place to be. I remember one night I was walking along the interstate as I hitchhiked. I was again a young teen and I was cold, tired and hungry, to top that off it started to sprinkle. I remember seeing a farmhouse in the distance and wishing I could be there, inside where it was warm, and I was loved and cared for.

As I reflected on these storylines of my life I realized each one of those trials and struggles were God’s way of preparing me for who I am today. I am not and do not complain about my childhood. I don’t live in a constant reflective and remorseful time of lost boy or childhood opportunities. But I can see now how God took each moment, each lesson and is using it for His good.

I am an award winning outdoor writer and communicator. I am not the best or most skilled, but it is who I am in my life today. The confidence from that one story and knowing I might could actually have a talent or gift. That $5 sealed a deal that lay dormant for many years.

That lost little boy wandering the country gave me the ability to know how a lost boy feels. The drug and alcohol problems gave me insight from a firsthand position to understand those struggles in boys and men. These combined with the outdoors birthed the Kids Outdoor Zone youth ministry in my life.

God used all these struggles, these challenges to create who I am today. I believe we all have these pieces in our life experience that if we stop, be still and reflect, we will see. The gifts and tools that we uniquely have like finger prints. My story is my story. Yours can be exactly opposite but you still have things in your life that He can and will use if you let Him.

Take some time to think how best you can serve the One who gave up his only Son for you. What an outstanding chance to give a little back. You have talents and gifts, ask Him to help you know them and use them. You are amazing!

Boys Need To Be Boys

Jon Michael is my youngest at 10. He has two best friends, Kyle and Darius, who often come to our house to hang out, eat from the fridge, play video games, you know all the current boys things. But they also come to see me, to hang and talk and ask me questions. They try to lure me into taking them fishing or hunting, shooting or riding on the four wheeler, cool, dirty guy stuff.
I can’t always break away from what I am doing to hang with the three musketeers’ but I usually help instigate outdoor activities. I make sure they have plenty of bb’s, flashlights or something to cook over the small fire pit out back.

A month or two ago the boys were over and decided they wanted to camp out in the back yard. It was going to be warm enough and I thought it a good idea. We dug out the cots and some sleeping bags, lit the fire pit and gave them the makings for hot dogs and smores. The perfect evening in so many ways.

That night my wife and I retired to bed around midnight. The boys had sat watching the fire embers burn down and made it to their cots about the same time, talking, laughing, telling stories.

It was about 1AM when I heard the first attack. The quiet of the night was broken by whoops and yells, bangs from rocks hitting the old wooden fence. Shouts of “get him,”“there he goes,” “watch out”- it was loud and crazy. My wife pushed my shoulder, I was already awake. “Get up and tell them to be quiet, to go to bed, egad,” she does not like to be woken at night.

I was laughing, laughing hard and deep down. “No,” I told her, “No I think we’ll let them be boys a while, they are safe.” They had spotted a possum and chased him across the back yard. He barely escaped they treachery and they were basking in their bravery and skill when I looked out back. For me, it was awesome!

It was maybe an hour later and it all erupted again only this time I joined in. I went out the front door and made the wide sweep around the porch meeting the possum on the drive with the boys on hot pursuit behind. I cornered the stinky looking possum, snatched him up and took him to the field across the street. I think the boys wanted to eat him or something, they were pretty bummed I let him go. I was just wanting to go to sleep now and I was close to being put outside myself for not reining them in. The boys headed back to their cots back-slapping and for the close throws and fast running each one provided to the “hunt”.

It got quiet again and I decided, now at about 3AM, to get up and check out back. I wanted to check on the fire pit and the boys. To my surprise one of the boys, Darius, was up on his cot in a kneeling position with a flashlight and a stick in his hand. The other boys were fast asleep.

I quietly walked out back and asked him why he was still up when the other boys were asleep. Through sleepy little brown eyes he said he was watching for the possum. I read it as a scared.
I convinced him the excitement was over and the possum and he was gone, we laid out his cot and sleeping bag and he laid down. I sat down in a chair between him and the yard, he was out fast. I hung out a few minutes reflecting on the night, morning, and to make sure he was asleep.

One more time, up at 4AM just to double check, I was having a hard time sleeping now. There sitting next to the fire pit poking at a small flame that had erupted was Jon-Michael. Again I made my way to the back of the yard and asked him why he was up. A cheerful little face looked up at me and said “isn’t it about time to get up, isn’t it almost morning?” “No,” it is not I told him, it is the middle of the night so get back in bed. He made his way to his cot and that was that. I went inside.

The adventures I remember as a young boy include a lot of adrenaline. They were times of exploration and discovery. Catching my first fish, seeing bear at our campsite, building things that rolled or slid or tumbled. I also remember the times I was scared at times I also remember feeling lost, alone and cold.

I want to make sure that I am always keen to those feelings in my kids or the ones I have charge over. I never want to miss the opportunity to offer comfort or council to the young guys I mentor. For me, today, I live for late nights chasing possum and the quiet times by the fire pit. Good, dirty, wholesome guy stuff.

Kidsoutdoorzone.com

You Never Know Who is Sitting Next to You

I was the third person at the tire store that morning. It was 20 minutes before they opened and I wanted to get in and out quickly. As it got closer to the opening time others began to show up and I was forced to get out of the truck and stand in an impromptu line. Minutes before there were eight or nine folks in line and no one was talking. I had already dissected the lives of several and how they were not going to have the manners to allow those who were there first their rightful place at the counter when the doors opened.

I have been at this exact place and had a woman come up, cut in line and then barge to the counter ahead of all those who had waited outside patiently. I said something to her, as many might have wanted to, but she shrugged it off and took care of herself.

I am guilty of selective judgment and taking someones inventory for nothing more than how they look. I have to say some of the problem does lye on the shoulders of the person who is representing themselves by their fashion choices. I know business owners who were interviewing for a specific job and had applicants come in sloppy dressed, slouching in the chair, not answering with a yes sir or mam. They come in with little attitude or look of true desire to work, or at least it appears that way.

I have talked with distraught young adults and men who complained about how they were treated in an interview or meeting. When we dissect the situation they had to reflect on their part of the problem.

But I digress; we were talking about me and my prejudgment of folks I don’t know. So the fact is I do on many occasions. A lot of times you are what you look like and it is a fact that people will decide who you are the first few seconds they see you.

So back to the story from this morning, there was a young man with an old truck who was dressed in baggy jeans and a black hoody pulled over his head. He got right in the semi structured line and ahead of several folks. I decided he was a kid with little manners and probably a trouble maker or not very motivated.

I was the first one through the door and pointed to the first two guys that were there ahead of me, they came forward and made their way to the counter. I was next and then I lost track of how it went from there. I made my way to the waiting area and found a chair in the sun. I pulled out my laptop and prepared to write this blog – but that is when God wanted to teach me, again, His way.

The young man asked me, “are you in wildlife management?” The logo’s on my truck says Texas Outdoor Zone, Wildlife Management Harvest Unit 1. I told him I was an outdoor writer and worked with kids to get them outdoors. That lead us into a conversation about him, his love for quail hunting, his father’s influence and how he ran the family business and a second year student in college.

What an amazing young man. He was very well spoken and wanted to volunteer to help with the boys if he could. He cuts firewood everyday for the family wood business. His father does not get out and hunt much any more but he loves to bird hunt and the dogs.

I am so sorry Lord I looked at one of your children and judged them. I am guilty of it many times. I am sorry to my new friend and I pray I can make it up one day, even though you don’t know it, I am truly sorry, you’re a great young man from what I know now.

Yes, it matters how you present yourself. Humans will be human and thus flawed. But again the Lord will allow us grace to learn and grow closer. I, again, am so glad I met this young man and who knows where God will take the relationship. He may be a key to the leadership of the whole Kids Outdoor Zone program or maybe we won’t ever see each other again. But I got the message Lord, sorry -