Texas Archives - Page 24 of 51

May 1, 2013

A visit to the clinic with an art showing on the side

“Lo and behold!” That is what I said this afternoon while awaiting my meds from the pharmacy at our local Veterans Affairs outpatient clinic. No epiphanies usually jump up and slap the heart-worm medicine out of the dog that is my soul. I have been accused of being a sick puppy. If that is so, I would figure the illness which would be dogging me (sorry) might run toward some psychiatric affliction.

I don’t know what the hell I am talking about, in reality. I am not a dog. I don’t have heart-worm. And I don’t have canine psychosis. I have enough on the health end of the spectrum to keep me too busy to sit around making up imaginary dog diseases. Poor sick puppy.

Back to hold and below or whatever. Parked out under the clinic portico was about the coolest car I have seen since my friend Blake drove his father’s Rolls Royce through the bumpy and manure-littered cow pasture road leading to the farmhouse I rented in the East Texas countryside. And that was a while ago.

I don’t know what one would call it. Well, “Honda Accord” for a start. But the toil and trouble put into this plastered and painted auto made it some kind of keen collage of rolling steel. From the “Hot-rod Era” to the 50s sex-kittens such as Monroe, for this “Hollywood Daddy-O” (Sorry, I haven’t mastered my iPhone camera and plus it was a day in which my essential tremors were shakin’ harder than Ol’ Pop down at the corner malt shop.) Even local sights from our fair city’s American Graffiti past were represented, as below.

I have to mention here that the photos (from top to bottom) of the Calder Avenue Pig Stand in Beaumont (Texas), now closed, and the sights from Vidor and Beaumont’s, may be copyrighted. I am sharing these pictures here under the Fair Use Doctrine. Look it up if you so desire. You really should read it if you are going to post pictures online. Oh, sorry for the headlight or whatever that is at the Pig Stand. That’s the photo though.

Studying the exhibition, I linked up with the artist. He turned out to be a 64-year-old Air Force veteran although he looked somewhat younger, even with whitish shoulder-length hair and beard to match. I believe his name was Dave. Sorry, I could just say I have problem remembering names. But I was so taken with his work that the car art overtook any profundity the artist might have exclaimed. It wasn’t a boring conversation, I really enjoyed the talk. But art is where you find it.

I happened to have found it at the VA. And it was free and close up and cool.

April 30, 2013April 30, 2013

Watch out Beaumont, Texas, “Cops” is coming to town

Attention all bad boys: What ya gonna do?

The Beaumont (Texas) City Council silently voted to allow the long-running “reality” TV show, “Cops” to film local police for the next eight weeks.

Yes, “Cops” will follow Beaumont police officers around while exposing a few of the more than several dregs of society the city has to offer. Perhaps the show will get a good shot of police flailing the hell out of a “perp.” In case you don’t know, at least here, a perp is a black or Latino between the age of 18 and 60. No, I’m just kidding most of the cops here don’t do that any more. You know them civil lawsuits get expensive the more times they get filed.

I had some hopes for the Beaumont PD leadership when Chief James Singletary took command in October 2011. I have been personally disappointed about a couple of things the police did to my displeasure, but I will not mention them.

A few things do appear somewhat better though. It seems less wrongful use of force has been called to our attention. At least on the outside this police administration also seems to do a good job connecting with the media and the public. They send out news releases which are the very same ones that the local TV and newspaper receive and rewrite verbatim or make the release sound dramatic, somewhat, on TV. The local media has not, at least in the last several years, made any effort to investigate stories on their own. That is unless it is something that the white, wealthy or semi-wealthy, minority are up in arms over. For instance, we have the case of the black electrician who allegedly stole $3 million — I say allegedly even though he was convicted — from the Beaumont school district. I use the form of alleged because it may be more than that amount which was stolen or he might have a successful appeal.

The asshole who shot and killed an elderly woman from Newton County in March 2012 at the Jefferson County Courthouse, Bartholomew Granger, was convicted just this afternoon in Galveston. He also wounded a couple of others including his daughter, whom he also ran over. Sweet guy. He will probably be executed.

I mention that because that was about the biggest crime story around last year, that I can remember. Of course, “Cops” don’t need a big shootout to film. They can watch the Beaumont police bust some knucklehead, with his pants halfway down his ass, for a chunk of crack — cocaine that is. Or they might film some meth heads, all without shirts, being swept up in a commando-style raid in which the meth guy’s 3-year-old daughter ends up going to Child Protective Services. Sad. Yes, we’ve seen all this before. But we have not seen it in Beaumont on national TV.

One sight you will be sure to see is some good ol’ boy with his big belly hanging out from his wife-beater and as well as hanging a ways over his jeans. This ol’ boy might have two teeth at the most and a southern drawl. But what the hell? It’s good publicity for the department and a morale booster for the police officers, says Singletary.

The city has spent a considerable sum of money to spruce up areas of town. Tourists are coveted here by the local convention and visitors bureau to take in our museums, old houses, Gator Country and the birthplace of the oil industry. “Texas With a Little Extra” is the motto du jour. Or maybe that should be “Texas With a Little Extra Crime.”

April 29, 2013April 29, 2013

Happy 8-0 Willie, no matter what day your birthday may be

Willie Nelson turns the big 8-0 today. Or tomorrow. There apparently is some dispute over what day The Red-Headed Stranger was born. Supposedly, he says today and the state of Texas says tomorrow (April 30, 2013.) Somehow, I think Willie might just light up a big ol’ reefer and say: “Who cares.”

There is no dispute that this extremely talented individual was born in Abbott, Texas, in Hill County. That is about five miles north of West, the small town struck with unimaginable destruction on April 17. In the wake of that devastation was left 15 dead and more than 150 injured.

All of this has to do with Willie in case you asked. Well, not the explosion but the man who seems to perpetually have a twinkle in his eye made his birthday party gig at the Bee Cave near Austin a benefit for the West volunteer firefighters and others who lost so heavily on that day. Some 12 of the 15 dead were first responders.

No matter that Willie Nelson is a “big old star” he is a country boy at his roots. And country people take care of their own. They might know yours and everyone else’s business and be judgmental as Roy Bean. But they take care of their own, by God.

“It’s been rough and rocky travelin’/But I’m finally standing upright on the ground/After takin’ several readings/I’m surprised to find my mind is fairly sound.” — “Me and Paul”

Willie has sang every kind of song, on every kind of stage, in cities big, small and in between. I first saw him, a clean cut replacement for Marty Robbins at a rodeo in Jasper, Texas. Then I saw him in his trademark short, cutoff blue jeans with a pony-tail and scraggly old red beard and hair. The hair was a lot less gray back in Santa Barbara in 1978.

There are so many songs of his I love: “Remember Me,” with his soulful singing, his wandering guitar and Sister Bobbie Nelson’s honky-tonk style piano. “The Red-Headed Stranger,” the concept album on which both the former and the title track may be heard. A hellacious cover version of Bob Wills’ “Stay a Little Longer.” You name it. Willie plays it.

Willie used to party a lot. Now, I understand he is a health-food nut. Yep, probably drinks only the best organic whiskey. He goes running, still I guess. Of course, he also has probably smoked enough ganja in his life to bring Bob Marley back from the dead.

He’s had highs in his life and he’s had lows. When I say “highs” I’m not talking about his well-known pot propensity. But he’s finally standing upright on the ground, just as he sung in the previously quoted tune “Me and Paul.” The “Paul” is Paul English, Willie’s long-time drummer, who is about the same age as Willie. Bobbie is two years older than her brother. Perhaps a bit of meanness is inside me but I would like to see a “Beer Rules” volleyball game between the Nelson clan and the Rolling Stones. Of course, Mick and the boys would probably get teased as “the youngsters.”

At any rate, if Willie Nelson isn’t my favorite musician, then he’s pretty damn close. Hope you have had a Happy Birthday Willie Hugh Nelson! Whenever you want to have it.

April 26, 2013April 26, 2013

Country says goodbye to Ol’ Possum Jones: Virtuoso of honky tonk blues dies at 81

George Jones died early Friday in Nashville at the age of 81. Such a common name for an uncommon man. Still, probably more than most people would know that this was “the greatest male vocalist in country music.” Untold thousands would just as easily recognize his nickname: “Ol’ Possum.”

“I had an album out with a side view of me with a crew cut,” Jones said in a 2009 interview on theBoot.com. “I was very young, and my nose looked more turned up, and I’ve got little beady eyes so I guess I did look like a possum! So they both laid into me and called me ‘Possum,’ and it got everywhere. There was no way I could stop that, so (I thought) I’ll just have to live with that!”

And live with it, he did. Though Jones informally lived with other names such as “The King of Broken Hearts” and “No Show Jones.” Through it all, from childhood to a tormented life of substance abuse, George Jones was a true blue country icon. He was admired by his peers as well as by younger performers of different genres such as the Rolling Stones’ Keith Richards and new wave pioneer Elvis Costello. This long form obituary in today’s Nashville Tennessean explains why those from different styles of music were such devotees of Jones. This is also likely one of the best tributes, warts and all, you will find of Jones on this day of his death.

Jones was born and raised in my part of the world. Some biographical pieces say he was born in a log cabin in Saratoga, Texas. Other bios said he spent his youth in Beaumont, where I now reside, picking and singing on a street corner for change.

The city of Vidor, Texas, also claims Jones as one of its own. Vidor can be found a short nine miles east of Beaumont on Interstate 10. One only has to cross the Neches River bridge, a.k.a. the “Purple Heart Memorial Bridge.” A movement started in the 1990s to name the Neches River Bridge after George Jones. Folks thought it was a good idea. The city council of Beaumont voted for it as did the Jefferson County commissioners. However, the vote had to be unanimous with county commissioners from Orange saying “yea.” The body voted “nay.” Jones said however the sides voted, he was just honored to be considered. But apparently some of Jones exploits must have burned some bridges in Orange County. Or perhaps Jones just wasn’t Holy enough for Orange County, a county in which residents in places such as Vidor have for years tried to live down reputations for being reputed Ku Klux Klan strongholds.

Before Possum set out for the Marines and eventually true stardom, he got his introduction to the record world at radio station KTXJ (1350 AM) in Jasper, 58 miles up the road from Beaumont. Coincidentally, KTXJ was the nearest radio station to where I grew up. Back in the day, it played both kinds of music: country and western. But Possum was long gone from KTXJ before I ever heard a radio broadcast.

Oddly enough, I was never a big George Jones fan. I understand why he is considered such a huge star, he was perhaps the best “song stylist” ever in country music. He also put so much pain in his sad songs that you thought he was going to break into tears and so much energy into his lively songs one might think he would explode. I did like a number of his songs though: “The Race Is On,” “White Lightning,” “She Thinks I Still Care,” among them.

Still, I understood that this man George Jones was a troubled man. Yet, he was a character and one who reminded me of the people I knew who were “known to drinks a bit” when I was growing up. The difference being they were just town drunks and Jones was a star.

So, from near your former haunts from many years past down here in Beaumont, we bid you a “so long” Ol’ Possum. Maybe someday we can name the freeway after you.

April 9, 2013

You really don’t have to smell the roses when you stop

One man’s cliche is another man’s philosophy. Whoa! Maybe that’s two, SMACK, two, SMACK, two cliches in one. Whatever. Maybe that’s a little too heavy for me when all I want to say is I stopped to smell the roses today except the roses weren’t roses but were instead honeysuckle vines.

It’s hard to smell the honeysuckle on a warm, windy, humid day here in Beaumont, Southeast Texas, USA. Especially such is the case since the wind is coming from the direction of most of the petrochemical plants in the area. As I have noted here before, the plants don’t smell as bad as they used to back in the latter part of the 20th century. But odors do become more acute on very humid days. I’m sure there is a scientific reason for that, or maybe it is just baloney. I just know I smelled more chemical plant or refinery on the short walk I took this afternoon to the extent I had to get close up to smell the honeysuckle.

There are three sensory experiences that remind me of my roots in the Pineywoods of East Texas. One is the sound of the wind as it wafts through the trees in a pine forest. Number two is the haunting sound of the lonesome whip-poor-will. Perhaps it is always described as lonesome because it is poor, whipped and has no will? Who knows. And third is the sweet smell of the honeysuckle vine. Well, I suppose I could add a forth: The sound of the morning sawmill whistle blowing. I don’t know if such a noise exists anymore. At least, I doubt it exists anywhere in East Texas to the extent that the whole town can hear it as when I was a child.

A reference to honeysuckle is not to a single vine or vine flower. But I really don’t know the difference between all the different types including the invasive Japanese honeysuckle. Where I grew up a certain type of honeysuckle was actually known as a wild azaleas. An area was set aside by a timber company on which a trail exists for both birding and for checking out the namesake wild azaleas. It is named, appropriately, the Wild Azalea Canyons Trail. The wild azaleas peak blooming is supposedly late March but they may still be blooming well. This is certainly no Grand Canyon but it is a decent walk down and back up.

It doesn’t take a road trip or a vacation, however, to enjoy what’s out there. Often all one has to do is step outside. Sometimes you will see something for the first time that may have been there all along. That is when you know you need to stop to smell the honeysuckle a little more often.