The Muse is Loose

We were in Harlingen, Texas today to hear the announcement of winners in the Texas Coastal Birding contest. The Roadrunners from Rockport won out again! They bested eight other good teams from cities along the Gulf Coast. They were a proud trio, receiving new Eagle binoculars and some framed bird pictures as prizes. They also received plaudits from some of the best birders in the state. I was so proud of them. One hundred twenty four birds is quite a day for any birder. We are proud of Emily, Savannah, and Olivia for their sharp eyes and hard work.

If you don't have one, or know what one is, the Suburban is that mile-long vehicle you can't see around when backing up at Wal- Mart or HEB. It is that ball team carrier and school van. It can haul dogs and cats and probably a small horse. It is most often steered by a female with a cell phone conveniently wedged into one ear. It becomes home for school papers, whataburger cups, lost pennies, coffee urns, towels, swim suits, parking tickets, and spilled drinks of various flavors.

The Suburban is seventy-five years old. It has come a long way baby, and with baby on board.
The first Suburban had two doors, three rows of seats, and was powered by a six cylinder, 90hp
engine that must have been a terror when loaded down. My 1960 Comet had that much power.

Today there is nothing in similarity to the old one except having four wheels and an engine. It now can be powered by 350 horses. On Star and other navigation systems are available. The ride is smooth and steady. It will tow a 10,000 pound load with ease. I crossed Cottonwood Pass in Colorado in one. That was 12,000 ft elevation. I wasn't driving. Bob Lawrence was.

You need to have a pocket full of money or credit to purchase a new one. A white 03' can be bought as of today's paper for $9,900.00.Low mileage, Garage kept. One owner.

The next time you see a Suburban honk your horn, wave, and yell, "happy birthday". Chances are they will wave back. I can't guarantee how. "Rollin' rollin' rollin!"

Speaking of rolling, we will be doing just that in a little while. Off to Fort Worth to check on son Lee, in the hospital with blood clot problems. Keep him in mind when you talk with the Lord.

You know what I mean. Plan out a " perfect " week ahead of time and see what happens! Chances are it will not be recognizable at the close of that week.

This week's events were not on my calendar. They still aren't. I haven't had a chance to place them there. They are no longer events, but history. It has had it's shaky moments but has turned out good today. Our son, Lee Pogue, was able to go home from the hospital.. He will still be restricted, but it will be better for him and the family. We drove in from Fort Worth late this Saturday. Yesterday we "celebrated" Lee's 46th birthday. Somehow, "Happy Birthday To You" didn't seem appropriate. We did celebrate in the room. There were balloons and flowers, gifts and food. (Maybe that is why he got an early release!)

What do you have on your calendar for next week? Here's wishing all the good things you have there will happen. Save some blank space, however, for life's surprises that can rise up and fill the appointment book.

My calendar has MOTHER'S DAY on it for tomorrow. There is a good chance it won't be cancelled or declared illegal by the Supreme Beings On A Court. Prayer will not be cancelled either by the Supreme Being over all courts. I can talk to God anytime...anyplace. On occasion He has a word or two for me also. That, to me, is the most important prayer time...closet prayer, I call it.

Thank you,thank you for your many voices lifted to God on behalf of Lee. They were heard and He chose to answer in the affirmative. Thank you, God.

We have a long-ago concreted patio. As concrete is known to do, it has cracked a few times over the years. One crack is rather long but very small in width. I would guess four credit cards wide.
Today I noticed a small pile of sand. There are tiny grains. Thousands of them. Working in the sandpile were little ants. They are smaller than fire ants. These tiny critters have brought sand up through an eight inch crack in the concrete. The sand may have come from a much deeper level.These amazing little creatures are building a home down beneath a super thick layer of concrete. The only way to unload their grains of sand is to bring them up to the surface, one grain at a time, and deposit them on the hot patio surface.

I watched this project for several minutes. You wonder who is in charge? Who is calling out to them, "Over there, you dummy! Not over here!". Who tells them, "O.K. guys take a ten-minute
break." When do they know to sleep? It doesn't appear there is a foreman. It doesn't appear there are break times. These tiny creatures of God's creation know only one thing. WORK.

Someone long, long ago also noticed the ant. That person, probably the wise Solomon, said after such an observation; " Go to the ant, you sluggard; consider it's ways and be wise! It has no commander, no overseer or ruler, yet it stores its provisions in summer and gathers its food at harvest. How long will you lie there, you sluggard! When will you get up from your sleep? ". Did he have a lazy son or daughter? Whoever, that message should have rung loud and clear. It still rings clearly today. Take a look at those amazing ants!

The Corpus Christi school board trustees announced that one of their three new schools will be named to honor Brother Harold Branch, retired pastor of St. John Baptist Church in Corpus Christi.I think it was a wonderful choice. This man has given a lifetime of service to kids and adults through his church and community.

I cannot claim him as a close friend, though it would be a privilege to do so. We have crossed trails a few times through the years. He led his church to become one of the first black Baptist churches to be an active part of the Texas Baptist Convention. They were also active in the Corpus Christi Baptist Association.

My best memory with him was a delightful afternoon at Zephyr Baptist Encampment on lake Corpus Christi. We had each planned to spend some free time down on the lake- shore fishing, the old-fashioned way.... cork and worms. When I arrived at the most convenient spot, Brother Branch was already there. We shared bait and growing up. Though from different settings, many of our experiences were the same. He is a man who loved the Lord and preached the Gospel. He also gave tireless energy to improving the welfare and education of those born in challenging circumstances. It is good to see such a man honored in this way.

Men have been harnessing the wind for thousands of years. Sails on boats are a form of wind power. Windmills date back to the BC's. In the early part of this century, on to today, the windmill
is a normal sight at many farms. It is usually used to pump water to the surface for livestock.

In South Texas we are being introduced to a newer form of wind-gathering energy. It is called the Wind Farm. Wind Farms are nothing new. Europe has had them for many years. West Texas brought in Wind Farms a number of years ago. The ones being built in South Texas are up close and personal. They are forever changing the appearance of our flat landscape. They are being mingled into the blackland around Taft with cotton, grain, and corn.

A new Wind Farm is being built as I write. It is within a mile of the city of Taft. Yesterday I saw a load holding the parts for a single turbine. They are huge! A man standing next to one blade was dwarfed by that structure. Giant cranes that could be used to build a ten-story building are in place to hoist this thing into space. They are expensive. They are also good, easy money for the landowner who receives them.

We cannot help but wonder how they will do when the inevitable hurricane, long overdue, comes ripping through this part of Texas. Will the sky be suddenly filled with giant windmills churning about like seagulls? The experts say, "no way". They also said that of the off-shore drilling rigs chances of a major leak.

Wind and winds are mentioned often in the Bible. Jesus had command over the wind. When He said, "be still", it obeyed immediately. On the day of Pentecost "a sound like the blowing of a violent wind came from heaven and filled the whole house" (Acts 2:2). The Psalmist says of it all. "He stirs up his breezes and the waters flow." (Psa. 147:18).

The energy has always been there. We have simply been slow in harnessing it. The same is often true for believers. Power for service is as close as the breeze cooling our faces. We must harness it. however, if it is to produce power.

You have surely received a census card by now. We have received two, plus a visit from a census worker. I assume we will only be counted once.

The taking of a nation-wide census dates back to 1790. A decennial census is mandated by the Constitution. It only requires a head-count. Through the years many more questions were asked. Those early counts were primitive in their approach. The first census office was a temporary one. By the 1880's-1890's information gleaned covered many topics. Permanent offices were opened. As it became more complex President Teddy Roosevelt in 1902 asked the Congress to make the census office a permanent agency. Today it is a statistical "clearinghouse" of information for the Federal Government. It is probably best we do NOT know all the GOVERNMENT knows about us.

Does it bother you any to know that our government has extensive knowledge about you and all your dealings? The computer age makes those bits of information quickly available for whatever agency might need them.

If you think THEY know much about you, brace yourselves! Someone else knows much more! Even more than your mother knows or knew! (And you thought for sure she knew everything about you). Read some of what GOD knows.

"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me. You know when I sit and when I rise; you perceive my thoughts from afar. You discern my going out and my lying down; you are familiar with all my ways. Before a word is on my tongue, you know it completely, O Lord" Psalm 139

The Lord's census is continual. He is updating His vast info about us even before it happens. That ought to concern us far more than the simple questions of a census taker. By the way, his knowledge is 100% accurate. He is able to know what Heaven's population will be when we all, who have reservations, will go there. There will be no over-crowding. In fact, the population will be a bit smaller than our church figures estimate. "Not every one who says to me, "Lord, Lord", will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only he who does the will of my Father who is in heaven. Matthew 7:21.

The big question is HOW we are counted in the BIG census. Are we citizens or aliens?

This red-haired little orphan had quite a run on life. For eighty-five years she refused to grow up. Sandy, her dog, is an incredible 595 years old by human years. (Arf). Annie had her great times along the way. She became a Broadway musical called "Annie". It ran for six years! She was in a film "Little Orphan Annie" in 1932. She was parodied and copied, but survived it all.

Annie was adopted by a wealthy industrialist named Daddy Warbucks. He wore a tux and a diamond in his tie. He was shiny bald. They were constantly separated by events and crooks. She also had a faithful giant, some eight feet tall, named Punjab. He carried a blade that was imposing. Punjab was nice to have around. Another lesser character was the Asp.

The creator of this enjoyable strip was Harold Gray. He has been dead for many years. Annie made Gray as wealthy as Daddy Warbucks. "Leapin' lizards" was her favorite slang expression. Some say the "leapin'" referred to Annie being born in a leap year. That being the case, she is now only twenty-one going on twenty-two.

I first met Annie when I was about her age....then..... She was in a Big Little book. Do you remember those? Punjab was my favorite character, though he rarely had anything to say. I just felt safer for Annie when Punjab was around.

Her last day to appear in a strip will be June 13, my birthday! Had I been born in a leap year I would only be NINETEEN! "Leapin' lizards!!!"

In school days long ago I had to memorize this reading. I have used it several times with kids and grandkids, turning the lights down and getting out my "spooky" voice. Thought I might give it to you to do the same if you have little ones. Don't scare them too badly or they will be in your bed for the night!

THE LITTLE ORPHAN ANNIE
by
James Whitcomb Riley

Little Orphan Annie's come to my house to stay,
To wash the cups and saucers up and brush the crumbs away.
To shoo the chickens from the porch and dust the hearth and sweep,
and make the fire and bake the bread to earn her board and keep,
While all us other children, when the supper things is done,
we sit around the kitchen fire and has the mostest fun,
a listening to the witch tales that Annie tells about
and the goblins will get ya if you don't watch out!

Once there was a little boy who wouldn't say his prayers,
and when he went to bed at night away up stairs,
his mammy heard him holler and his daddy heard him bawl,
and when they turned the covers down he wasn't there at all!
They searched him in the attic room and cubby hole and press
and even in the chimney flu and every wheres, I guess,
but all they ever found of him was just his pants and round-abouts,
and the goblins will get ya if ya don't watch out!

Once there was a little girl who always laughed and grinned
and made fun of everyone, of all her blood and kin,
and once when there was company and old folks was there
she mocked them and she shocked them and said, she didn't care.
And just as she turned on her heels, and to go and run and hide,
there was two great big black things a standing by her side.
They snatched her through the ceiling fore she knew what shes about,
and the goblins will get ya if you don't watch out!

When the night is dark and scary, and the moon is full
and creatures are a flying and the wind goes Whooooo
you better mind your parents and your teachers fond and dear
and cherish them that loves ya, and dry the orphans tears
and help the poor and needy, ones that cluster all about,
or the goblins will get ya, if you don't watch out!

We know about the disasterous explosion and oil leak in the Gulf. There is no way of estimating the damages of this accident.

The one I share with you was on a much smaller scale, so I am still here to tell about it. Country boys are adventurous, to say the least. We lived in a one-store community called Cavanaugh, in Arkansas near Fort Smith. A gas line ran by the front of our house by the gravel road. A friend and I were in the area and smelled gas. We knew there was a leak. There were little bubbles coming to the surface at one spot. We got our shovels and began to dig down to the main pipe. Sure enough, we could see the bubbles and a tiny hole in a rather large pipe. This wasn't the one to our house. It was the one to the neighborhood. You would think we would have hurriedly reported the leak. Ten-year old boys? Nah! Our thoughts were to have our own fire and cooking place. We would put rocks round the pipe so it could hold our cooking utensils (Which we didn't have). We could cook potatoes and rabbits and all kind of stuff on our own "private" stove.

After secretly gathering our food and pans we moved toward the "big event"; lighting our new stove. Matches were secreted out to the ditch. It was lighting time. Who would do it? That took considerable discussion. It was finally decided it was the property "owner's" responsibility. For the first time we mentioned explosion and a fire out of control. This whole thing was getting a bit scary.

I lit a match and tossed it at the leak. Nothing. Again. Nothing. Now I realized I would have to get down by the leak and stick the match into that escaping gas. I did....and with a tiny puff, a small blue flame appeared! It was perfect. We proceeded with our cooking plans. This was really great to have our own outdoor gas stove! It was summer so we didn't need it for warmth.
Cooking was all done and it had gone great. Now it was time to turn off the gas for the day. There was no control! Blow it out? No way. In fact, the flame had gotten higher than when we first started. In the midst of all this my Dad came home from work in Fort Smith. He saw us and knew we were up to something, so he soon came down to the stove. He quickly began to throw dirt and whatever, in to stop the fire. We then found out how we could have possibly gone on a one-way trip to the stars. It was duly reported and OG&E sent a truck out to replace the leaking pipe. Thus ended our short-lived cooking experience on the main gas pipeline.

I wish it were as simple to stop the incredible oil leak in the Gulf of Mexico.

Ann and I watched in amazement this 29 year old with the name Gustavo Dudamel, as he led the Los Angeles Philharmonic orchestra. He is the youngest director of a major orchestra. He is also called the most outstanding. His goals are beyond himself. He wants the music and playing of instruments to get to inner city kids and lift them above their situation. It is happening. I can't describe him adequately. You need to see Gustavo in action. Pull up Los Angeles Philharmonic or maybe even 60 minutes on CBS and you can see it played. I think it will inspire and lift you up a bit to see what a young man is seeking to do with his life.

It is looking like Midlothian, Texas will be the new home for our kids, the Duprie's. James was invited to join the athletic staff at Midlothian High School. He will rejoin his former head coach from Comfort, Lee Wiginton.

Midlothian is in Ellis County, which abuts Dallas County. It's earliest residents were Tonkawa
Indians. In 1883 Midlothian was recognized as the name for the town. Legend has it that a Scottish train engineer thought the countryside looked like Scotland. It was also midway between Dallas and Cleburne and Ennis and Fort Worth. The railroad brought growth and stability. Farming and cattle raising were important. The County became known as one of the nation's leading cotton growers. After World War II Midlothian became an industrial center serving Dallas/Fort Worth as they grew. Little did they know the agricultural soil covered what would become the hope for future growth. Midlothian is atop the Austin Escarpment, a ridge running northeast to southwest. It has an estimated 600 year supply of potential limestone reserves. Limestone makes cement. There are three cement plants, plus a steel and recycling plant , along with related manufacturing plants. It has a diversified economy from blue-collar to corporate headquarters. The area has had growth from persons living there and commuting to Dallas.

Midlothian High School has over 2,200 students. It will become a 5A school in the Fall. There are six elementary schools and two Middle Schools.

They are the Panthers. We are excited for James having the opportunity to progress in his career with a fine coach and a growing program. As a new 5A program they will have quite a challenge. I think they will accept the challenge.

Today in Taft at First Baptist was senior recognition day. We had two. One I will mention, but not by name.

The young woman was born when I was pastor there eighteen years ago. I went to the hospital to visit she and her mom when she was two days old. Amazingly, I am around eighteen years later to be a part of honoring her at church on high school graduation week.

There is more: Her grandfather and grandmother on her mother's side were both town doctors in Taft. Dr. Rose was stricken with Alzheimer's and spent her last years not knowing any of her family and many friends. Her husband, Dr. John, took good care of her through it all. He became mostly deaf. His favorite pastime was working in a woodworking shop behind his house. Bob was a good friend and worked there also. Bob had been the town police chief in earlier years. It was
there in that little workshop that Bob built a giant cradle for our first grandchild, Courtney. It was big and beautiful. We had it shipped to them in Chicago. It cost over a hundred dollars to mail!
This week-end that little girl also graduated from high school in Miami, Oklahoma. It was simply too far a trip for any of us to make. Two little girls, now grown, but who never met.

That's the story. Not too exciting to you perhaps, but kinda' touching for these two aging grandparents down here in Rockport, Texas. This story will never be repeated. Cradles have been replaced by folding beds of all kinds from China. A doctor couple would no longer think of giving their lives in a little cotton-picking town in South Texas. Such is life and it's endless stories of births and deaths and change.

This chain of uninhabited islands lie off the coast of Mississippi, not far from New Orleans. The experts say they are only about 4,000 years old, having been made from soil washing down the Mississippi River. The mouth of the river changed it's location, leaving these pristine islands, until now, as a prime hatchery for marine life and birds. Oil from the massive BP spill began lapping
ashore along this primitive place May 6. It will be a long time before it becomes again the place it was.

I visited there about twenty-five years ago on a fishing trip with Allen Ray Moers, Charles Hogan, Mason Jordan and his brother, and Harry Bruton of Taft. We rode in Harry's motor home to Biloxi and boarded an old but reliable fishing boat that could sleep us all. We spent two nights on the boat with three days of fishing. They fed us well. We paired up and got into smaller boats to go where we pleased during the day. The water was shallow and clear. We could see the surf at times, but mostly fished around the small islands. Sharks cruised where they willed through those shallow waters. It was a fun trip I have always remembered but never repeated.

I fished with Charles Hogan from Monroe, Louisiana. He became the head of a new music program being built at Angelina College in Lufkin. He is a successful insurance man today. Hogan and I bought our first boat as a partnership when we were both "music men" in Lufkin; he at First Baptist and I at Calvary. It was a Ouachita boat with a 9 hp motor. We used it on the newly filled Sam Rayburn lake. In early days the lake was an incredible place for bass fishing.

Today I go to San Antonio to visit my friend, Harry Bruton, who is hospitalized there. We will probably fish a little by memories and swap a few other tales. Hopefully, Harry will be back in Taft real soon.

In the meantime oil is coating those beautiful islands with it's silky sheen. Will it ever stop spewing from that underground geyser? Let's hope so.

Bill Muskopf and wife Ethel, are dear friends of ours through the church. Bill has an unusual occupation. He sells vitamins... for plants! They aren't sold at Wal Mart or Lowes. They are sold on QVC and from his catalog. Bill and Ethel make a spring trip to Philadelphia for several weeks. QVC will assign them a five or seven or maybe even a ten-minute slot to sell their products. From those few minutes come orders for Spray N Grow from everywhere. It is a popular product in England and Germany. It is popular in orchards as well as gardens and flower beds. He has related fertilizer and a neat sprayer.

Bill brought us a new sprayer to use in distributing the vitamins on our plants. I gave it a good workout this morning. It is AMAZING the extra flowers and blooms that follow an application of these vitamins and Bill's perfect fertilizer. We have used Spray N Grow for several years and really believe in it.

Plants need vitamins. So do people. We can easily become deficient with the fast foods and south of the border selections. I take vitamins daily and think they make a difference.

We also need SPIRITUAL vitamins. Unfortunately, many Christians are deficient in the vitamins offered from that box of them on the coffee table. A few doses each day can really make some difference. Try a dosage from Psalms or James or Matthew or even Revelation. (Careful here. It is easy to overdose). Last Sunday I gave our graduates at Taft a devotion book by Max Lucado. Each day features a verse and comments. Never know, it might make a difference for a day...or a lifetime. Have you had your vitamins today?

Still trying to decide where to take the kids on Monday? I have a great idea. Go to Lake Falcon. Some of the largest bass caught in Texas are in that lake. Bird-watching around Falcon can be great. I saw my first and only Brown Jay walking the river below the dam. That was several years ago. There is a state park there. Zapata is an "interesting" border town. So.....

Load up your boat if you have one. Get your heavy tackle and fresh water lures and head....O I forgot....also put in your rifle, shotgun, pistols if available. Take bullet proof vests for the family. Be sure your cell phone is fully charged. Take no credit cards on the lake and little cash. Be sure you have the number for game wardens, deputies, etc. You see....unbelievable.....there are PIRATES
lurking on Falcon Lake. You may or may not know, it extends down into Mexico. There is an imaginary border drawn across the lake. It is 78.300 acres, but it involves two countries.

The heading in Saturday's Caller-Times says: PIRATES THREATEN BOATS ON US-MEXICO BORDER LAKE. The article goes on to say that fishermen have twice been robbed in recent days out on the waters. The Zapata County sheriff calls it "spillover violence" from the Mexican border cities involving drug cartels.

Where is Judge Roy Bean when you need him? O, that's right, he died about a hundred years ago. Were he around he would have the "pirates" brought to his little courthouse/beer joint near the river...give the guys a fair trial...and then hang um'. My neck hurts just thinking about it. On second thought, Rockport's Blue Wave beach might be a better choice.

"Yo Ho Ho! and a bottle of Nestle's Pure Life purified water."

The American Revolution began our 234 year saga of WAR. All those years have brought about 651,030 men and women dying in combat. 1, 431,290 received non lethal wounds in war. We have 17,450,000 living veterans of war. War is a costly business. The ultimate cost is one's life. Most of those were young men and women.

I did not know, however, until this week that the one who is called the first martyr or casualty of a war-like action was a TWELVE YEAR OLD boy named Christopher Snyder. Christopher died two weeks before the Boston massacre. Let me tell you about him.

The British government enacted a series of taxes to pay for the French and Indian war. This was an extremely unpopular tax in the Massachusetts colony. Resistance involved protests and confrontations with tax collectors. 4,000 British troops were sent to maintain order. Soldiers were placed in colonists homes. That made them more angry. A resistance group called The Sons Of Liberty was formed. They harassed the soldiers when they could, snowballing them and getting in fistfights. They then called for a boycott of British taxed goods. One Boston storeowner who was a Loyalist to the King, refused to participate. His name was Ebenezer Richardson. The Patriots placed an effigy of him outside his store to warn others he was a Loyalist. He tried to tear it down and they began to storm his house. He fired several shots at random, wounding some men, but one shot killed young Christopher Snider. Richardson was saved by troops and placed in custody. An elaborate funeral was held for the boy. There were flaming protest speeches. Two weeks later the Boston Massacre would take five lives. That was the start of the Revolution. Those five men were buried in a mass grave with Christopher Snider. His gravestone had this epitaph: "Here lies buried the body of Christopher Snider, Aged 12 years. Killed February 22nd, 1770. The innocent first victim of the struggles between the Colonists and the Crown, which resulted in Independence"

Obviously Christopher was not a soldier as we know them. He was perhaps, a member of the Sons Of Liberty who were our first un-uniformed soldiers of freedom. Ebenezer Richardson was tried and found guilty of murder. After two years he was pardoned by The Royal Governor. I doubt that he re-opened his store in Boston.

War is no respecter of persons. It takes soldiers and civilians, young and old, men and women, children and the infirm and aged. It is a veritable hell on earth at it's worst. Weapons of war have now become bigger and more deadly. I am not sure we can survive any more wars.
In the meantime our hats and hearts are off and open for the ones who paid supreme sacrifices. We must not forget what they have done for us. From a twelve-year old boy in 1770 to the young man who died today in Afghanistan....they are heroes ALL!!