One Thing I Miss About East Texas

Hard to believe that almost six years have passed since I packed up my things and moved to Dallas, hoping to break free.

I viewed East Texas as a snow globe—you know those glass globes with a scenery and snow that when shaken gives the illusion of a snowfall.  I felt trapped in an area where only certain thoughts and philosophies were tolerated.  On the outside everything seemed quaint and peaceful, but then you realize things aren’t what they seem. I felt that certain religious institutions created this fully-fabricated, “Truman Show-like” world, trapping the minds of its inhabitants.  I knew more existed and I decided to break free from the globe.

Since moving to Dallas, I have prospered. I met the married the woman of my dreams. I’ve realized two of my childhood dreams (to work in a downtown Dallas office building and to live in the Park Cities). I make five times more than I did when I lived in East Texas. I’ve even made some great connections which afford me opportunities many would envy. Simply put, life’s been good to me.

The view from my first apartment in Dallas.

I love the hustle & bustle of the city. I like the fact that running in my neighborhood I have skyline views. I love all of the cultural, financial and entertainment opportunities living in the city afford, but some days I look around and see things that are missing.

Yesterday marked the official start of Fall. In spite of some afternoon heat and humidity, signs of Fall are everywhere–shorter days, (somewhat) cooler nights, the start of football season. It’s at this point of the year, that I miss East Texas the most.

Indeed, there is something endearing about the region during this season.

It starts with the pageantry of high school football. Stop in any East Texas town on a Friday morning, walk into any place of business and the employees will be decked out in the schools colors. Drive down Main Street and you’re bound to see flags and signs, cheering the home-town team on and unifying the community. Around 3 p.m., head to the local high school and experience school spirit at its finest. After that, watch as the entire town shuts down to attend the night’s game.

Sometime in October, you’ll get your first “cool snap.” The winds shift; the air feels crisp and clean. The sun gently rises above the majestic pine trees, before  rising to the top of the clear blue sky. To truly take in the beauty, I recommend driving down Texas 135 in between Jacksonville and Kilgore, as the highway snakes through beautiful pine hills and forgotten boom towns, you’ll know what I’m talking about. Once the sun goes down, the temperature drops and there’s no better way to stay warm than to build a bonfire and call your friends up for a party.

The view from Love's Lookout, just outside Jacksonvile, Texas, on a beautiful Fall afternoon.

You know that the first Sunday in November will be one of the few Sundays of the year that churches aren’t filled to capacity, as hunters throughout the region remain camped out at their deer leases, hoping to be the first to bag the season’s “big one” or to at least create a story about how the “big one” got away.  By now, the high school playoffs have arrived, energizing small towns even more–the younger generation hoping to write the next chapter in their programs’ history and the older generation comparing the team to those of the past.

By Thanksgiving, leaves on the ground outnumber those in the trees. You gather together with family, play backyard football, eat, watch the Cowboys, play more backyard football, and then cap the night off with even more football or venture out into town and watch East Texas become a wonderland of lights. Even the smallest communities hang lights on every structure in town to mark the the beginning of the holiday season.

Fall is when East Texas comes alive!

The weather changes here as well. Football games become increasingly more important and the holiday season brings a certain energy to the stale city. But the air is not as crisp, the foliage not as magnificent and with the exception of a few more days off of work, city life really isn’t much different in the Fall than any other season.

I’m not ready to move back to East Texas just yet. The city affords me too many opportunities to simply pack it up for a quarter of the year. But as I sit at my desk, stuck in the grind, I often reflect on memories of Fall in East Texas and I’m reminded it’s not as bad as I made it out to be.

What’s the matter in East Texas?

My good friend, Brian Cuban, recently penned an article for his blog regarding the “death of small town America.” In the piece, Cuban opens with details of his recent trip to celebrate Thanksgiving in East Texas and laments the condition of one specific town, Atlanta, Texas, but extends the content of his post to small towns all over our country, where the downtown area is full of vacant buildings and the economy is dead.

Cuban contends that Wal-Mart is to blame for the demise of Atlanta and other small towns all across the land. While Wal-Mart definitely played in a role in the death of small town America, other factors contributed and deserve a full and open discussion.

In full disclosure, my family’s roots in the Atlanta area go back through at least the mid point of the nineteenth century.  Though I don’t live there now, this area will always be “home.”  I know the land and the people and understand all too well the political and economic forces that make the community, and others like it, tick.

What’s happened in Atlanta in has been going on for centuries.

Consider the fact that immediately following the Civil War, as most of the state lay barren and uninhabited, the bustling river port of Jefferson (@ 30 miles south of Atlanta) had a population of around 30,000. This might not sound like a lot by today’s standards, but in the 1860′s and 1870′s only Houston and Austin had a larger population in the state. Legend has it that railroad tycoon, Jay Gould, cursed the city for their refusal to allow him to put his railroad through the town. Historians will tell you it was the Corps of Engineers ability to finally remove the Great Raft from the Red River, resulting in dropping water levels in Big Cypress Bayou making it no longer navigable, that brought around the eventual demise of Jefferson. Whatever the case may be, Jefferson now has a population of around 2,000 and an economy that’s not much better than Atlanta’s. It’s worth noting, there is no Wal-Mart in Jefferson.

Brian and I had Thanksgiving in Kilgore, Texas, an East Texas city with a similar history to Jefferson. In the 1930′s, oil was discovered in Kilgore and other East Texas communities like New London and Joinerville. Soon boom towns sprung up all over the area. The population and economy in the area soared. At one time, over 1,200 oil wells pumped inside the city limits of Kilgore alone.  While oil still means a lot to the economy in Kilgore, the boom long subsided and downtown Kilgore continues to struggle. I lived in Kilgore for a couple of years and residents continually refused to build a Super Wal-Mart for fear of what it would do to the local economy. Finally, after I moved in 2002, Kilgore gave in and they now have a Super Wal-Mart. The economy seems to be as stagnant as it was  before, but no worse than the pre-Supe Wal-Mart days.

The reason that these East Texas communities continue to struggle is not because a large corporation chose to build a discount super store, but rather the absence of real capital.  In the 1860′s and 1870′s, Jeffersonians made the most of their capital–their bustling river port. Once it dried up, many of the investors that contributed to the growth of the city left, leaving those who could not afford to leave to rot in the economic decay. Similarly, the discovery of oil led to an influx of capital from every major oil company in the world into the East Texas region. Once the oil became harder to find, the investors began to pull out, leaving behind a work force largely unqualified to do anything else except work in the oil fields.

The problem becomes worse when people in my generation leave to get an education, establish themselves professionally and then don’t return to the area. It’s similar to the cause of urban decay, where the “have’s” escape to the suburbs, leaving the “have not’s” in the urban core.

In spite of all this, the people of East Texas are persistent as the native pine trees, roots planted firmly in the ground, capable of withstanding all that life may throw their way. Neither the Corps of Engineers, nor “big oil”, nor Wal-Mart will destroy these towns. It would help if the Federal government got off the backs of these good people and loosen regulations on the two industries that this region depends on more than any others–timber and oil–but it’s not in the East Texan’s nature to complain, but rather to deal with life deals them. Just like they have in the past, East Texans will survive this current economic storm and come out better for the most part than their urban counterparts.

—————-
Now playing: Graham Nash/David Crosby – Immigration Man
via FoxyTunes

Top 5 Sports Moments from Weekend

I realize that I’ve been on a top 5 kick lately, but it’s just the mood I’m in. Let’s keep it rolling with the Top 5 moments from a busy sports weekend:

1.) SMU Becomes Bowl Eligible – For whatever reason, I’ve been a SMU fan from my earliest days. I have never attended school there and they haven’t had the on field success that elicits t-shirt fans, but I’m a fan of the Pony Express. I went to several SMU games as a kid, pre-death penalty, and I was at the first post-death penalty game, a win over UConn. To see this team rise from the depths, become bowl eligible and sit in the driver seats for the Conference USA title is great indeed.

2.) TCU Sends a Message – There are two legitimate national title contenders in Texas–the one in Austin everyone expected and then the one in Fort Worth that’s been battling for national respect for a decade.  While it will still take a miracle for TCU to earn a spot in the BCS National Championship Game, if they run the table and win their BCS bowl game they will provide yet another example of how the BCS is the biggest fraud in all of sports.

3.) Mavs Continue to Play Strong – In spite of a recent rash of injuries and illnesses, the Dallas Mavericks continue to play as well as anyone in the NBA. Over the weekend, they took games at Minnesota and Detroit and tonight won on a last second, OT buzzer beater in Milwaukee. While this may not be the Lakers, Celtics & Cavaliers, three straight road wins is always a feat in the NBA. Plus, the Mavs got these 3 wins without Josh Howard, Tim Thomas, Erick Dampier and Shaw Marion.

4.) Colts beat the Patriots – I’ve always said, every time the Patriots win, somewhere a little puppy dies. To see the look of failure and utter dejection on the face of Bill Belichick walking off the field last night actually helped ease the pain of the Cowboys loss (see #5).

5.) Wade Phillips is one step closer to being fired – In the “desperately-seeking-a-rainbow-after-the-storm” category, the Cowboys loss to Green Bay on Sunday means this franchise is one step closer to ridding itself of its final obstacle in the race to win a Super Bowl–Wade Phillips. I’m convinced that if this team does not make it to the NFC Championship game this year, Jerry Jones will fire Wade. While I will always support fellow Texans, Wade is just not the right fit in Dallas. In keeping with the “support my fellow Texans” theme, I’m also glad that the Packers win ensures that their GM, and former Atlanta Rabbit great, Ted Thompson’s job is safe for at least another week.

November Spawned a Monster

I just recently purchased a new laptop and I’m the process of transferring all of my files from my old laptop to an external hard drive for easier access. I found some of my old poetry I hadn’t read in a while, especially a poem I’ve had a couple of requests for….

Looking back, it’s clearly a cheap attempt at “Howl” and I realize that I fell well short of that mark, but it still carries a lot of emotional value for me. Feel free to comment and/or critique:

“November Spawned a Monster”

Cold blue smoke floats on a Wednesday afternoon
angst, the breakfast of champions, fuels me to
press on through the monotony of life.
Trapped in the glass globe of “southern living.”
Malnourished! Left to starve and choke on the
recycled Puritanical lies they
feed me.  People shuffle in and out, blind
to the rape which is occurring daily.
They rape me too, for years violated
by their calls for hate, while they paint it love.
Like a scared turtle I took shelter from
my fears in them, a product of my guilt.
Guilt, the crutch they use to beat dissenters.
No longer can I follow their trademark
recipe for hate.  Free thought my only
vehicle out of this holy shit-hole.
A 21st century digital
boy, a 21st century gad fly
America my Athens, but will my
idle words pack a sting or will hemlock
be my next entrée.  Pop radio the death
of life, sadly I silently hide the fact
I know the words, the headlines read the same
another nazi in Austin a pawn
to King George, a cog in the machine that’s
becoming the new evil empire
nicotine my friend on this bittersweet
morning.  A peace settles in as I am
reminded of words I read many years
ago, the only thing constant is change.
But what has changed? An epic sense of hate
and fear disguised in an artificial
sense of nationalism—Bush-leaguers—
black blood blinds bastard men obligated
to contractual obligations and
the divine sovereignty of Enron.
Rummy, The Cardiac Kid and Bushels
the cowboy clown bravely leading us on the
imperialistic charge through Babylon.
Illegitimacy abounds in an
illegitimate government. They
hate Mohamed—Mohamed sure loves them.
They remind us of that “Day”—a day I
remember all too well.
The incessant drone of the alarm clock
I tunneled in my sheets; sunlight seeped in
A confused voice stirred me, I sat up
“What are the chances this is an accident?”
I ran to the TV…Explosion #2!
I drive to work…Explosion #3!
Work, how can I work at a time like this?
I walked outside and lit a cigarette
the sun vibrantly shone casting shadows
upon the corridor I walked.
I heard the clanking of the flagpoles blowing in the distance
I reached for my phone; hoping for a connection out there
Busy.  I looked up, clear blue sky not a single cloud.
I walk on, heading towards a skyscraper.
Again, I dialed a number, hoping for a voice
Line down.  I looked up, how and why
I sat alone on the curve, lighting another cigarette
the nicotine my only comforter.
“Three down and one aloof”
What the fuck was happening?
It’s 9:30 A.M. and single yellow cab pulls into the bus station
$59 or less to anywhere?  How far is anywhere?
Not far enough.
I look down College, the city bus putts along as
Though it too has been affected.
My phone rings, I answer
Static. God Damnit, it might have been her
I look up, a family of pigeons dives towards our building
Never before had this scared me
Men with purple hearts, Carry silver guns hidden behind their sports coat
They stand on the street corners and watch.
I walk out of the shadows and into the sun.
Fall is approaching and a crisp breeze begins to blow down the street
I look around and all is at peace.
Does nature know something I don’t?
One more cigarette before Reba kills me
“Imagine there’s no heaven”
You got that right John.
No countries, no wars, and no religion
Right on, the words ring through my head
As if someone is positioned on the Bank of America building
Blaring the song throughout all of downtown.
All I ever need to know I learned from the Beatles
And Dylan, Dylan was good to
They warned us…they all warned us
Hell Sophocles and Aeschlyus warned us
But did we listen, too much fucking hubris for that.
Now 4,000 gone and counting
Will we learn now?
Or are we all still black and white?
Gay and straight?  Christian and Muslim?
When will we see that it’s all shit? We are merely human.
What’s she doing?  I bet she can see the shit from her window?
Better than Brokaw, better than Rather
She’s got the birdeyes view.  If I could only reach her.
Suddenly, I am once again paralyzed by the words of Lennon
Perhaps this will help us do away with the Puritanical myths
Maybe, we can live as one.
Teary eyed women come out of the building
And my dream is soon crushed.
I hear their rhetoric but I don’t comprehend
What is a “towel head”?
And how are they all responsible for this?
It’s a chance for the cowboy president
To gallop in the sunset
Showing that he is not just a daddies boy
Come on W give me direction
A lady from the TV station next door
Sticks her microphone in my face
Like some modern day phallic symbol
She asks me how it feels to be American
The only reply I can muster is:
“I am HUMAN and I need to be loved
Just like everyone else does.”
This monster was spawned in November
Our Supreme Court nurtured it
Our voters robbed…American voices muted
The legacy lives on.
Commercialism
Capitalism
Montheism—only if his name is Jesus though
These are the drugs that get pricks high.
Not in our names, the victims say
Fuck the victims our monster says.
Our generation, sold out
to the lies of AOL-Time Warner
To Viacom
To Turner Broadcasting
To Rupert Murdock
We gather together to discuss our
favorite Fox Anchor.
Our generation, desperately searching
We are the muted generation
Silenced by lusts, lies, lunacy
We desperately search for our voice
For our Ginsberg
For our Kerouac
For our Burroughs
I have no Carl Solomon to dedicate my words to,
Though I have seen “the best minds of my generation
Destroyed by madness, starving, hysterical, naked.”
American boys bleeding in Baghdad
I see it every night
It’s the worlds greatest reality TV show
Who needs Simon…who needs Trista?
We only need War!
We only need Peter Arnette and Geraldo.
Aren’t these GI’s the ultimate American Idols?
Isn’t this the ultimate Fear Factor?
Survivor:Baghdad; churning out more widows
To replace Trista on the Bacherlotte
ABC must be thrilled
Reality for a reality starved nation
Reality void in our schools, our government
Our culture, our country
Somehow I know there’s more than a flag and a crown.
My dissent indicts me, fettered by the chains of fascism
Repressed
Oppressed
And Suppressed!
I press on, searching for an end to the apathetic, plastic smiles
Bitchy, little Bible beaters, beating down your back.
Fear and insecurity drive these animals
To make a misery out of humans life.
My soul polluted by their racist, homophobic, misogynic manifesto
The theatre, my sanctuary…I go there to cleanse myself
To expunge the evils they have tainted me with
They tell me of the American Dream
Even more lies to complicate a convoluted life
Fables of success and prosperity
Promised as inherent, intrinsic rewards
For those who devote their life to hard work, liberty, justice and ever important pursuit of happiness
Happiness?  HA!
What do they know of happiness?
Happiness is not obedience
But now, thanks to the November’s monster
These people control my life
Filling our court’s, our congress
Their pockets
We live in an age where progress is equated with evil
Regression is the goal of our generals
They tell us not to forget
And we won’t
For just as November spawned the monster
November can slay it as well.

This cheered me up…

Today was a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day. It’s the type of day when you search for any sort of news story that will bring a smile to your face. I stumbled upon this story on the Tyler Morning Telegraph’s website. Initially, I was struck by the by-line that mentioned something about a homeowner holding a robber at gun point with his pants around his ankles. Once I got into the story, I learned that it was actually members of Earl Campbell’s family. I applaud the Campbell family for their heroic stand against this criminal low life.

The Cosmic Cafe

I’m thinking about music today, specifically live music. Wherever I have lived, I’ve always been drawn to the local music scene. I’ve never been able to get into the Dallas scene, at least not since living here. In college, I spent many weekends traveling to various music venues in Deep Ellum, catching great local bands.

However, Dallas has changed and even the bands I followed as a college student seem to have sold out or disbanded all together.  There are days I long for the East Texas music scene. While they may lack the number of venues and bands as Dallas, when you dig deep, when you step into the underground, true treasures await.

Nestled deep within the majestic pine forests of East Texas, down a one-lane black-top county road, sits a lonely cabin. To be certain, these forests contain many cabins, but none as magical as the one in question here. I remember the first time a musician friend invited me to the cabin to hear “some cosmic American music.” At the time, punk dominated my playlists and I had very limited exposure to “cosmic American music,” but my friend promised fun, so I decided to tag-along.

We drove out a lonely Farm to Market road, past the county jail, turning onto a dark county road that created a snaking black vein through the lush pine thicket.  The further we drove, the road narrowed, giving way to the brush and over-growth.  Tree roots protruded out from the road and all was pitch black. Finally, we pulled onto a dirt drive and I caught my first glimpse of the Cosmic Cafe.

There was a clearing directly in front of the cabin and I noticed a make-shift pen, which on closer inspection contained two full grown Clydesdales.  We walk towards the cabin, which was actually two conjoined cabins: a spherical cabin of the geometric variety and a traditional wood cabin you would find on any lake or on any deer lease.  We entered through a door in the spherical shaped building and I was greeted with the smell of patchouli and cannabis.

Once inside the cabin, I noticd a large chandalier, which resembled an old wagon wheel, suspended from the ceiling. On top of the the chandalier were several mason jars, each one containing a dimly lit bulb. Hanging from the mason jars were assorted pieces of women’s lingerie, in ever shape, size and color imaginable.

To our right, was the main stage, where three men and lady, all in their 50′s and all dressed in vintage Western wear, gathered together.  To our left, a wide open space, wihch led into the other cabin. Tucked against the wall were two couches straight out of the 1970′s. A wall, with twin doors, had been constructed in between the two cabins and a few feet in front of the door way sat the sound board. Pops, a tall, lanky gentleman with long gray hair and a thick gray beard sat the helm.  A small group of ten or twelve people huddled around Pops. I knew a few of them from other local scenes, so I stopped to exchange pleasantries, before heading into the second cabin.

It appeared that this section served as the cantina, with two large folding tables, containing various wines and spirts, pressed against the wall on the left. Underneath the two tables, there were two coolers full of beer–Miller Lite, Shiner Bock, and Lone Star.  Two breakfast table sat in the middle of the room and each table featured an intense game of dominoes.  We grabbed a Shiner and were headed towards a door at the back of the cabin when we heard the first chord followed by a booming voice:

“Good evening! Welcome to the Cosmic Cafe.”

The band launched into a rendition of Gram Parson’s “In My Hour of Darkness,” and we decided to head back towards the stage. The lights were even more dim and another ten people had showed up. The stage was so dark, we couldn’t even see the drummer’s face. The lady sat at keyboard on the right side of the stage. On lead and vocals, appeared to be the oldest member of the outfit. He chained smoked throughout the entire set, holding a lit cigarette in between his ring finer and pinky on his right hand as he strummed the strings–true talent. Though not the best vocalist in the world, he did a terrific job not butchering Parson’s work.  The bassist was huge, at least 6’8, and had jet black hair and a jet black beard. This gave way to a cover of Grateful Dead’s “Franklin’s Tower,” which rolled into “Desperado,” into “Ripple.” The set ran about 45 mintues. Somewhere along the way, the band launched into CCR’s “Lodi.” It was the only time the female sang lead vocals and the only truly awkward moment of the set. They ended with an electric version of “Woodstock” (CSN&Y style), thanked the audience and invited “Pablo” to the stage.

Pablo, who doesn’t resemble a Pablo, took the stage with two other younger guys.  The three launched into an acoustic set that really engaged those present. By night’s end, Pops and I were the only two in the crowd not to take the state at some point.

When the music ended, my friend and I made our way the back door to a deck for a cigarette. We walked to the side railing and once again caught a glimpse of the pen with the Clydesdales.  What a weird place for Clydesdales. All of a sudden, I heard a deep booming voice.

“You want one of those horses?”

I wasn’t sure how to answer the question, so I simply stared at the man. It was the bassist from the first band–the giant. He told me he had recently “won” the Clydesdales in game a poker on a “whiskey night,” and had since sworn off whiskey. It turns out he owned the Cosmic Cafe and the land it set on, also a prize in a poker game.

Over the next few months, I made a few more visits to the Cosmic Cafe and found it be one hell of a venue. Normally, I was the only non-musician present. It truly was a locale for musicians to jam with other musicians. There were no set lists to speak of, no cover charge, no merchandise, just a bunch of people who loved good music getting together and jamming. Some nights the music leaned more towards rock, some night it leaned country, some nights indie and yes, there was always “cosmic American music” to be heard.

—————-
Now playing: Grateful Dead – Eyes of the World
via FoxyTunes

Smoaky resigns from KTBB

Our East Texas bureau reports that David Smoak has resigned as “Sports Director and Talk Host at KTBB radio.” A trip to Smoaky.com confrimed this report.  It appears that Smoak will continue to maintain his site, a haven of heated discussions on all-things sports, especially high school football.

Texans love their high school football and the Piney Woods house some of the sports’ most passionate fans. Smoaky understands this passion and he developed a successful media strategy that provided East Texans with informative and entertaining coverage of high school football for over 20 years.  While media personalities in larger markets look down their nose at high school football, Smoaky devoted a majority of his to time to the it, earning him the reputation of being one of the state’s foremost experts on the sport.

Growing up in East Texas, I have fond memories of watching David Smoak as the sports anchor for a local television station. His high school football scoreboard was a must see every Friday night. As a college student in Tyler, I rediscovered how great Smoaky was when I found his sports talk radio program on the AM side of the dial.  Later on, I would have the opportunity to work with Smoaky on several different occassions while working for TexasPrepXtra.com. He was willing to do whatever it took to help young, aspiring journlists get the experience they needed.

It remains to be seen whether or not this signals the end of Smoaky’s career.  I’ve found a couple of different statements regarding his move on his website and both of them are deliberately worded, leading me to believe there some contractual issues yet to be answered. I tend to believe that Smoaky will continue doing what he loves, covering sports. I’m just no sure in what capacity.

If this does signal the end of his media career, it’s a sad day for East Texas sports fans. Smoaky’s work went far beyond high school football. He was the first local reporter in East Texas to begin live coverage from Cowboys’ training camp.  When Smoaky traveled to camp, he always brought along a huge smoaker and would provide food for the entire media contingent. Through his food and his professionalism, Smoaky developed many contacts throughout the state, friends who would often drop in on his program. No other media program has his connections and they will find it hard to book the types of guests his fans have grown accustomed to.

Heres to a very short stint off the air for David Smoak! East Texas sports fans need him.

Rangers Frustration!

As a Rangers’ fan, I should be accustomed to being frustrated. This team did a great job of teasing us all earlier this season, but now reality is beginning to set in.  We might hold on to first place for another night, but it won’t be long.  The weaknesses of this team have been exposed and until they are addressed, the team will continue to struggle and slide down the standings.

I spent a majority of the day listening to local talk radio dissect this Rangers team. The general consensus among the talking heads was that this team woes begin and end with the offense, especially one particular player.

Let’s be realistic, this Rangers team is a mess right now. No one person is to blame.  The main problem with this team is much bigger than the offense; it’s the philosophy that if they continue to play the game the same way, they will get different results. This is foolish, and dangerous, thinking.

Their “balls to the walls,” “swing for the fences” offensive mentality has a place in the baseball world. When your pitching staff has an ERA in the 5′s, you have no choice but to play big offensively. If you have hot sticks in your line-up, by all means, ramp up your offensive attack. However, this is a ball club that’s getting decent production out of their starting pitching and bullpen. By Arlington standards, this pitching staff is phenomenal.

On the flip side, this is a team that is struggling at the plate and its’ not all Chris Davis. From Ian Kinsler in the lead-off position, right down through the heart of the order, and down to the batting cellar with Salty and Davis, with the exception of Michael Young, there is no offensive consistency on this ball club. Potential ? Yes. Production? Hell no!

Some out there seem to think that by sending Davis down to the minors, the Rangers’ offensive woes will magically disappear. They seem to believe that Davis possesses some freakish power that not only drains his athletic prowess, but also that of his teammates.  I’ll be the first to admit that sending Davis down is a great idea. I’m a native East Texan and I love to see East Texans succeed, but keeping Davis in the majors is bad news for both the Rangers and Davis. However, that move alone will not resurrect this team.

What this team needs more than anything is a return to the basics of baseball, especially offensively.  It sounds so cliche, but be patient at the plate, take the first pitch, work the count, make the opposing pitcher throw strikes. There’s nothing wrong with a walk, but if you see a pitch you like on a 2-1 count swing, make contact and “hit it where they ain’t.”

The home run is not the only scoring option in this great game, especially if you know how to play “small ball.” Personally, I don’t know how you can make it to the majors and not know how to bunt, but from what I understand there are several players in the Rangers’ line-up who cannot bunt effectively. University of Texas head baseball coach Augie Garrido, a master of small ball, has said that he would bunt Babe Ruth in certain situations. The Rangers would be well served to adopt this philosopy, especially with their current struggles. Work a walk to lead off an inning, lay down a bunt, move the runner to second, instruct the next hitter to not swing until the pitcher has thrown a strike and then to make contact.

Of course offensive fundamentals mean absolutely nothing if you play with such poor defensive fundamentals that your catcher can’t even return the ball to the pitcher without an overthrow.

—————-
Now playing: Public Enemy – By The Time I Get To Arizona
via FoxyTunes

I love Texas ! I’ve lived here my entire life, so I admit to some built-in bias, but this is a pretty damn good state to live in.  Even though I’ve lived here for 30 years, it wasn’t until this past weekend that I made my first trip to West Texas. I must say it was an awesome experience. After spending so much time in the Piney Woods of East Texas, it was amazing to see a competly different landscape in the same state.

Where else can you see this

 

this

 

 

this

 

this

 

this

 

 

and this

 

 

in the same great state.

I definitely think every Texan should make every effort to visit every corner of this state. It is well worth. In the meantime, I plan on workin on a book, “Everything I Needed to Know About Texas I Learned From High School Football.” A look into how, as a child, I learned about different towns and cities in Texas by reading Dave Campbell’s Texas Football magazine, learning the schools in each town, their mascots and their enrollment.

The way health care ought to be…

As Barack Obama gathers the greatest minds in health care together, I thought I would share my personal experiences with the medical community in hopes of helping solve the health care crisis. 

I grew up in rural East Texas, in a town where literally everyone knew your name. I couldn’t wait to get out of there and I’m glad to live in the city now, but there are several aspects of that small town lifestyle that I miss, especially my doctor.  The small medical clinic in town provided health care for three generations of my family. There was no need to take medical histories, the same doctors that treated me had treated my grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles and cousins. There was no need to waste a lot of time feeling out paperwork, as soon as you walked in the door the office staff pulled your file and you were on your way to being treated. 

Once you got inside the examination room, the doctor came by, inquired about the problem and made a diagnosis. Again, there was no need to check any guidelines or recommend any superfluous tests, the doctor made a diagnosis based on the empirical evidence in front of him.  Before you left, the doctor asked about your family and eased any concerns you may have about your visit.

I didn’t realize how unique this situation was until I visited the doctor for the first time in Dallas. 

True story, two years ago I was trying to flush the toilet and broke the plastic handle. The sharp edges sliced my thumb wide open and since it was a Friday evening I decided to go to an urgent care center. I gave the office staff my insurance information. They informed me that since my carrier was closed for the evening I would be responsible for the entire cost of my visit and they would file claim on my behalf later.

An hour later, I was led back to the examination room. A physician assistant examined my wound, gave me a shot and stitched me up. It wasn’t until I got ready to check out that I experienced the most painful moment of the evening. For an examination by a physicians assistant, some stitches and a tetanus shot, I owed the urgent facility well over $500, out of pocket. I knew that I would get reimburshed for a majority of the cost, but I was still appalled that I had to pay the same price to see P.A. that I would to see a M.D. 

So what does this have to do with the current health care problem and what can we learn about the health care I received in my small town?

In my hometown, I was more than just a patient. I had an established relationship with my health care providers, something non-existent in the heavily regulated world of urban medicine. I can only imagine how impersonal health care would be if the Federal government had even more control over it.

What about costs? Obama’s people will tell you that health care costs are outrageous and even I just shared how I get ripped off by an urgent care facility, thankfully I have insurance–crappy insurance, but insurance all the same. When you have a personal relationship with health care provider, money becomes a secondary factor to your care. The clinic that housed my health care providers was very flexible with payments. You and your health care provider figured out what you could pay and how you could pay for it. Again, if and when the Federal government seizes control of the health care industry, they will attempt to destroy this personal relationship with health care providers.

I don’t expect everyone to be able to find health care like I’ve been blessed to have. However, I do think my story illustrates that the health care industry is not as out of control as those on the Left will have you believe. There is very little regulation, in fact many of the health care providers in my hometown violate many of the Federal regulations in place, and the health care I received there is far superior to anything I have received since living in Dallas. If anything, I think it proves that less regulation can lead to a better relationship between patient and health care provider, which in turn will lead to better treatment.