Over the past 72 hours we've all likely seen a lot of footage and heard lots of information about the tragedy associated with Hurricane Katrina. It's hard to believe that so much pain and suffering could exist so close to home (New Orleans used to be a 5 hour drive from the Houston area).
I saw on CNN an interview with a man who recounted how he lost his wife in rising waters. From what I could understand, the roof they were standing on to get out of the water suddenly split apart causing his wife to fall in. He reached for her and was trying to pull her out but could not. The house was literally coming apart around them. His wife told him to get their children and grandchildren out and save himself. He escaped with 3 children and the clothes on his back. The reporter seems to be in tears. You can see it along with other footage and stories here.
The issue of pain and suffering is not new to the human race. We each have faced some sort of pain and or suffering in the course of our lives. In times like these, questions like "where is God in this?" or "how could God allow this?" seem endless. I know I can't answer such questions. I'm barely able to grapple with them myself. My brother-in-law Aaron has a blog of his own and he's been knocking that subject around. He has some good things to say that might make some sense of what is going on in front of our eyes. Click here to read Aaron's blog.
My intent however isn't to discuss the matter of pain. There's a lot more writers out there who frame the argument quite nicely. I like to think I'm well acquainted with pain. I know I will most likely live with a limp, a bad shoulder and neck problems for the rest of my life. It's small potatoes to what some folks endure. Take the folks from New Orleans. How can anyone get past that?
Instead, I'm concerned about how we, who have watched this event unfold from a distance, have been impacted. Have we been moved by what we've seen? Is this human tragedy little more than reality TV that we watch along with our evening meal? Do we feel compassion in the face of such grief and loss? I've been asking myself as I've scoured the internet for the latest update on the aftermath of the storm. Covering this story has been a shot in the arm for cable and TV news stations. Is this just another story or TV show? Or does this hit us in the chest and cause a lump to form in our throats?
It should. It could have been us who suddenly lost everything and is now at the mercy of the elements. It could have been us, fighting to survive and being forced to steal. Please understand, I'm not advocating looting or those who have been participating in it. Stealing is wrong on several different moral levels. But, what would we do in the face of hunger, pestilence and despair? Notice that most of these folks weren't stealing "valuables." They were going after essentials: food, water, clothing. What else is left?
So I ask, in the face of the horror that is the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, have you been moved by what you've seen? Does it grip your heart when you see a child crying because his grandmother was lost to "storm surge?" Do you offer a prayer for those who tell their harrowing stories of how they survived "the perfect storm" and don't know what they will do next? We haven't begun to know the extent of damage or how much has been lost. We're going to have to fight apathy and lethargy and be moved by this tragedy. Afterall, wouldn't we want someone else to do the same for us?
Wednesday, August 31, 2005
Friday, August 26, 2005
Time Marches On
Last week was an important milestone in the Knox family. All three of the Knox children started public school. Big deal you might say. Read on...
7- 1/2 years ago, my wife and I picked up everything we owned and moved our family to the big city of Spring, Texas. When we arrived, we had been contemplating teaching our children at home. My wife had been an early childhood education major in college and was a year from graduation when we started our family. She had taught in the day school in our town before we moved and even had our son in her class. She had done research on home schooling and felt it was something she would like to try with our children. The motivation wasn't to seclude or insulate our children from the world. My wife just wanted to be able to spend time with our kids in their early, developmental years. In the fall of that same year, we started our experiment with our oldest, Christopher. He was 5 years old.
Now, 7-1/2 years later, we sensed the winds of change and after a lot of prayer and consideration, we enrolled our children in the Conroe School District. For the first time in their lives, our children would be spending the day away from us and each other. Each would be attending different schools in different parts of town. We were very concerned about how the children would adapt to the social climate as well as the structure and schedule. We were also concerned about the kids having to ride the bus to school. Each child would be riding different buses. How would our kids adjust to the double whammy of attending public school AND riding the bus?
After a week and a half, despite our misgivings and conerns, I'm pleased to report that our transition seems to have been a success.
Christopher, our oldest, started 7th grade and went out for football. He's 5' 9" and 220 lbs. and appears to have made the B team squad. He has practice at 7AM every day. He would prefer not to have to get up so early, but is enjoying Jr. Hi at the moment. He really likes football, too. His first game is September 6. Chris enjoys his Texas History class.
Jessica, our oldest daughter, started 5th grade at the newest school facility in town. Her primary teacher is a first year teacher and Jessica likes her. Jessica decided that she would like to be in the school band and wants to play the trumpet. Her grandfather and I both played the trumpet in school bands and we're letting her pick which of our horns she wants to play. She hasn't decided which class she likes best. She's just having fun.
Anna, our youngest, started 3rd grade. She is the most out-going of our children and loves the opportunity to make new friends. Interestingly enough, 60 or 70% of Anna's class is hispanic. She's hoping to learn spanish along with other things this year. Her favorite class is PE.
Our goal when we started teaching our kids at home was to make sure - above everything else - that we raised decent people. At this stage, we feel we've been successful in that enterprise. If the last week and a half is any indication, it looks like they're going to be just fine.
7- 1/2 years ago, my wife and I picked up everything we owned and moved our family to the big city of Spring, Texas. When we arrived, we had been contemplating teaching our children at home. My wife had been an early childhood education major in college and was a year from graduation when we started our family. She had taught in the day school in our town before we moved and even had our son in her class. She had done research on home schooling and felt it was something she would like to try with our children. The motivation wasn't to seclude or insulate our children from the world. My wife just wanted to be able to spend time with our kids in their early, developmental years. In the fall of that same year, we started our experiment with our oldest, Christopher. He was 5 years old.
Now, 7-1/2 years later, we sensed the winds of change and after a lot of prayer and consideration, we enrolled our children in the Conroe School District. For the first time in their lives, our children would be spending the day away from us and each other. Each would be attending different schools in different parts of town. We were very concerned about how the children would adapt to the social climate as well as the structure and schedule. We were also concerned about the kids having to ride the bus to school. Each child would be riding different buses. How would our kids adjust to the double whammy of attending public school AND riding the bus?
After a week and a half, despite our misgivings and conerns, I'm pleased to report that our transition seems to have been a success.
Christopher, our oldest, started 7th grade and went out for football. He's 5' 9" and 220 lbs. and appears to have made the B team squad. He has practice at 7AM every day. He would prefer not to have to get up so early, but is enjoying Jr. Hi at the moment. He really likes football, too. His first game is September 6. Chris enjoys his Texas History class.
Jessica, our oldest daughter, started 5th grade at the newest school facility in town. Her primary teacher is a first year teacher and Jessica likes her. Jessica decided that she would like to be in the school band and wants to play the trumpet. Her grandfather and I both played the trumpet in school bands and we're letting her pick which of our horns she wants to play. She hasn't decided which class she likes best. She's just having fun.
Anna, our youngest, started 3rd grade. She is the most out-going of our children and loves the opportunity to make new friends. Interestingly enough, 60 or 70% of Anna's class is hispanic. She's hoping to learn spanish along with other things this year. Her favorite class is PE.
Our goal when we started teaching our kids at home was to make sure - above everything else - that we raised decent people. At this stage, we feel we've been successful in that enterprise. If the last week and a half is any indication, it looks like they're going to be just fine.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Update - Good News for Wrecks
Wrecks Bell wins a partial decision over Starbucks on the day the Acoustic Cafe reopens. Wrecks closed the bar indefinitely when his wife Leanne passed away in June.
David vs. Goliath
I suppose everyone has heard the story. A little guy takes on a real big one and wins. It has served as inspiration for little guys everywhere to stand up for what they believe in. Sometimes the little guy gets the stuffing beaten out of them. But, every so often the little guy might get lucky, or get some help - like David did.
The reason I bring this up is something I saw mentioned on the Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe's web site (see sidebar for link). I mentioned in my previous blog the name Starbock. It is the name of Wrecks Bell's own brew, which is said to be a combination of Shiner Bock and Lone Star beers, thus the name Starbock. I don't know Wrecks' motivation in naming his beer, but it drew the attention of Starbucks Coffee which led to a pretty big lawsuit - at least by small business standards. There's been no decision in the case at this point, but it seems that court opinion is in Wrecks' favor.
It sure would be nice to see little David send Goliath back to the northwest with a black eye. Hang in there, Wrecks.
The reason I bring this up is something I saw mentioned on the Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe's web site (see sidebar for link). I mentioned in my previous blog the name Starbock. It is the name of Wrecks Bell's own brew, which is said to be a combination of Shiner Bock and Lone Star beers, thus the name Starbock. I don't know Wrecks' motivation in naming his beer, but it drew the attention of Starbucks Coffee which led to a pretty big lawsuit - at least by small business standards. There's been no decision in the case at this point, but it seems that court opinion is in Wrecks' favor.
It sure would be nice to see little David send Goliath back to the northwest with a black eye. Hang in there, Wrecks.
Local Music
The past 5 years has been a sort of renaissance for me. That's what I'll call it anyway. Other folks may think something else. One area that has been directly affected has been the music I listen to. Most of my life, I've tried to avoid country/bluegrass music and embrace pop/rock styles including some of the more progressive and extreme expressions.
In the past handfull of years however something changed. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think it started when I first visited Wrecks Bell's musical wonderland the Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe (see the link in the sidebar) in Galveston, Texas. I've told the story hundreds of times. My wife and I visited thinking it was a coffee house. We couldn't have been more wrong. It was a plain old Texas bar. All they served was beer and screw-cap wine, served from the refrigerator in the back room (which has since moved behind the bar). I quickly found out that the Acoustic Cafe is not about the drinks. It's about the music. Wrecks' motto is "lyrics count." One visit and you'll understand.
Despite my suprise (until then, I had only been in a couple other bars in my life) I came to love the place. It may not look like much - outside or inside - but it's easily my favorite place on earth. I discovered Townes Van Zandt, Lucky Boyd, Sweet Mama Cotton and others there in the Old Quarter. It wasn't just country music, in the sense that someone was singing a song with an exaggerated twang. The folks wrote and played real songs expressing who they were. It made quite an impression on me. I knew music was in my blood, but I realized that this music was in my veins. That's when my renaissance began.
Since that time, I've discovered other artists much like the ones at the Old Quarter. One group of note is the Sidehill Gougers. Some of the nicest, most talented people you'll ever meet. Another is Hayes Carll. Hayes is a local boy - that is from Montgomery County, where I currently live. One of the better known artists I've discovered is Jimmy LaFave (see his link in the sidebar). Jimmy hails from Wills Point, Texas, a former tri-county rival of my home town. Jimmy has written some of the most beautiful ballads ever put to music. He is definitely one of Texas' best kept secrets.
Speaking of secrets, Wrecks is another to mention. Wrecks traveled with both Townes Van Zandt, mentioned above, and Texas blues legend Lightnin' Hopkins. I hear that he's written a few songs over the years. His favorite ones are those written by his good friend, Townes. Occasionally he will treat the crowd to his own pickin' and grinnin'. He's no slouch. It brings to mind an old saying in Texas bars. It goes like this: "When you're on stage, shut up and play. The guy who owns the bar can play better than you. If you can't shut up, he won't just show you up, he'll kick your ass." Wrecks isn't as young as he used to be, but I'm sure he can hold his own.
So, if you're ever in Galveston, see if you can find the Old Quarter. It's just off the historic Strand. Stop in and have a Starbock and soak up the atmosphere. There's no place like it on earth.
In the past handfull of years however something changed. I can't quite put my finger on it, but I think it started when I first visited Wrecks Bell's musical wonderland the Old Quarter Acoustic Cafe (see the link in the sidebar) in Galveston, Texas. I've told the story hundreds of times. My wife and I visited thinking it was a coffee house. We couldn't have been more wrong. It was a plain old Texas bar. All they served was beer and screw-cap wine, served from the refrigerator in the back room (which has since moved behind the bar). I quickly found out that the Acoustic Cafe is not about the drinks. It's about the music. Wrecks' motto is "lyrics count." One visit and you'll understand.
Despite my suprise (until then, I had only been in a couple other bars in my life) I came to love the place. It may not look like much - outside or inside - but it's easily my favorite place on earth. I discovered Townes Van Zandt, Lucky Boyd, Sweet Mama Cotton and others there in the Old Quarter. It wasn't just country music, in the sense that someone was singing a song with an exaggerated twang. The folks wrote and played real songs expressing who they were. It made quite an impression on me. I knew music was in my blood, but I realized that this music was in my veins. That's when my renaissance began.
Since that time, I've discovered other artists much like the ones at the Old Quarter. One group of note is the Sidehill Gougers. Some of the nicest, most talented people you'll ever meet. Another is Hayes Carll. Hayes is a local boy - that is from Montgomery County, where I currently live. One of the better known artists I've discovered is Jimmy LaFave (see his link in the sidebar). Jimmy hails from Wills Point, Texas, a former tri-county rival of my home town. Jimmy has written some of the most beautiful ballads ever put to music. He is definitely one of Texas' best kept secrets.
Speaking of secrets, Wrecks is another to mention. Wrecks traveled with both Townes Van Zandt, mentioned above, and Texas blues legend Lightnin' Hopkins. I hear that he's written a few songs over the years. His favorite ones are those written by his good friend, Townes. Occasionally he will treat the crowd to his own pickin' and grinnin'. He's no slouch. It brings to mind an old saying in Texas bars. It goes like this: "When you're on stage, shut up and play. The guy who owns the bar can play better than you. If you can't shut up, he won't just show you up, he'll kick your ass." Wrecks isn't as young as he used to be, but I'm sure he can hold his own.
So, if you're ever in Galveston, see if you can find the Old Quarter. It's just off the historic Strand. Stop in and have a Starbock and soak up the atmosphere. There's no place like it on earth.
Thursday, August 18, 2005
Speaking of DeKalb...
I mentioned DeKalb in my last post. It was home to my mother's family. We used to visit my grandmother once a month when she was still alive. DeKalb was the more typical small town in East Texas - nice and slow. It's nestled deep in East Texas. Click here for a concise history of the town. The town museum is another source for town info.
Like most small rural towns DeKalb has seen better days. The train tracks that graced the town for roughly 100 years have been uprooted. Much of cross state traffic has been rerouted from US Hwy 82 to Interstates 20 or 30. A tornado passed through the town in the early 90's and destroyed several buildings and personal property near the downtown area - much of which was never rebuilt. The Red River Army Depot near Texarkana was a major employer for the citizens of DeKalb for several decades. When it closed in the 90's, hundreds of jobs in the immediate area were lost. The town population has dwindled in the time since from approximately 2,000 in the 80's to 1,200 to 1,400 in recent years.
It's sad to have seen the decline of such a place. Unfortunately, the story of DeKalb is similar to many east texas towns. I think people need to hear about these places so that people can visit them to keep the towns alive. It doesn't take much. Perhaps on your next vacation or long road trip, you might consider taking a detour and receive some historical enrichment. The townsfolk will thank you for it.
Like most small rural towns DeKalb has seen better days. The train tracks that graced the town for roughly 100 years have been uprooted. Much of cross state traffic has been rerouted from US Hwy 82 to Interstates 20 or 30. A tornado passed through the town in the early 90's and destroyed several buildings and personal property near the downtown area - much of which was never rebuilt. The Red River Army Depot near Texarkana was a major employer for the citizens of DeKalb for several decades. When it closed in the 90's, hundreds of jobs in the immediate area were lost. The town population has dwindled in the time since from approximately 2,000 in the 80's to 1,200 to 1,400 in recent years.
It's sad to have seen the decline of such a place. Unfortunately, the story of DeKalb is similar to many east texas towns. I think people need to hear about these places so that people can visit them to keep the towns alive. It doesn't take much. Perhaps on your next vacation or long road trip, you might consider taking a detour and receive some historical enrichment. The townsfolk will thank you for it.
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
Where Were You?
Today marks the 28th anniversary of the death of Elvis Presley. I know that Elvis isn't from East Texas. He's not even remotely close to being Texan. But, when the big guy kicked the bucket, it was big news. In fact, I remember EXACTLY where I was when I heard the news. I was in East Texas!
My mother and I had gone to visit my grandmother in DeKalb, Texas. As was our custom, we would stop off to visit my brother and his family who lived in Winfield, which was about half-way between points A & B. This particular day we had stopped off and I was playing with my brother's kids, Johnny (7) and Rendi (4). I was 8. Rendi went into the house and came running out in just a few minutes. "Elvis died and they brought him back to life and he died again!" We thought she was crazy. But sure enough, when we went inside to catch the news (which came from Shreveport, LA), all they were talking about was that Elvis had died. People had begun their pilgrimage to Graceland and were already lining the streets of Elvis Presley Boulevard. It would be the only news story for several weeks on end.
We weren't sure where Rendi got the part about him coming back to life before finally dying. In the years since his death, I've learned that there was all sorts of speculation after he died and all kinds of crazy stories. People were in shock. The King was dead, or was he?
So, where were you when you heard the King was dead? I'd like to hear from you.
Meanwhile, you can find out all kinds of things about Elvis you never thought about by clicking here or here.
Before you go, remember, Elvis is watching you...
My mother and I had gone to visit my grandmother in DeKalb, Texas. As was our custom, we would stop off to visit my brother and his family who lived in Winfield, which was about half-way between points A & B. This particular day we had stopped off and I was playing with my brother's kids, Johnny (7) and Rendi (4). I was 8. Rendi went into the house and came running out in just a few minutes. "Elvis died and they brought him back to life and he died again!" We thought she was crazy. But sure enough, when we went inside to catch the news (which came from Shreveport, LA), all they were talking about was that Elvis had died. People had begun their pilgrimage to Graceland and were already lining the streets of Elvis Presley Boulevard. It would be the only news story for several weeks on end.
We weren't sure where Rendi got the part about him coming back to life before finally dying. In the years since his death, I've learned that there was all sorts of speculation after he died and all kinds of crazy stories. People were in shock. The King was dead, or was he?
So, where were you when you heard the King was dead? I'd like to hear from you.
Meanwhile, you can find out all kinds of things about Elvis you never thought about by clicking here or here.
Before you go, remember, Elvis is watching you...
Ridiculous Stories
Anyone from East Texas isn't worth their salt unless they have a few ridiculous stories to tell. Since this blog pertains to country wine, it needs a good wine story. This one comes from my friend Jackie Hales, from Willis, Texas. It's not East Texas, but it'll do for my purposes.
My brother-in-law pointed out that he bought some muscadine wine once and was told that he needed to let the bottle breathe so that it wouldn't explode. That's with good reason.
Jackie had a brother and the two of them together usually spelled trouble. They were 10 and 11 (though I don't know who was the eldest). The story goes that they came across some ripe plums in their barn. Jackie had an idea to make plum wine. So he and his brother cut them and removed the pits, mashed them and made their wine and put it in a big jug with a cork as the seal. Their father was very strict and was known for disciplining the boys firmly. They didn't want their dad to find out what they had done with the freshly picked plums, so they buried their jug in the ground behind the barn.
It was a warm fall day. Shortly after burying the jug, they went in for supper and forgot about it. Midway through dinner there was an explosion. It had enough concussion that it shook their pier and beam house. Of course, their father was out of the house like a flash to find out what happened. Jackie and his brother were right behind him. They noticed some faint white smoke coming from behind the barn and ran in that direction. When they rounded the barn, there was a gigantic (remember the boys were 10 and 11) hole in ground and everything within 50 feet was the color purple.
Jackie and his brother eventually got a whippin', but not for making wine. It was because they had busted their mother's only big jug.
My brother-in-law pointed out that he bought some muscadine wine once and was told that he needed to let the bottle breathe so that it wouldn't explode. That's with good reason.
Jackie had a brother and the two of them together usually spelled trouble. They were 10 and 11 (though I don't know who was the eldest). The story goes that they came across some ripe plums in their barn. Jackie had an idea to make plum wine. So he and his brother cut them and removed the pits, mashed them and made their wine and put it in a big jug with a cork as the seal. Their father was very strict and was known for disciplining the boys firmly. They didn't want their dad to find out what they had done with the freshly picked plums, so they buried their jug in the ground behind the barn.
It was a warm fall day. Shortly after burying the jug, they went in for supper and forgot about it. Midway through dinner there was an explosion. It had enough concussion that it shook their pier and beam house. Of course, their father was out of the house like a flash to find out what happened. Jackie and his brother were right behind him. They noticed some faint white smoke coming from behind the barn and ran in that direction. When they rounded the barn, there was a gigantic (remember the boys were 10 and 11) hole in ground and everything within 50 feet was the color purple.
Jackie and his brother eventually got a whippin', but not for making wine. It was because they had busted their mother's only big jug.
Thursday, August 11, 2005
Give Me A Home Where The Buffalo Roam...
Recently on a road trip, my wife and I were driving through East Texas and encountered two buffalo on the property of a local cattle company. I've seen buffalo before, but they were behind big game fences at state parks or on display at the zoo. This time, they were out in the open, so we stopped for a closer look and pictures.
The first one didn't want to have anything to do with me and never turned around. Still, he was a fine specimen. I call him Harry. He was the bigger of the two. Here's his picture:
The other buffalo was a little smaller. I call him Ralph. He was intrigued by my presence at the cattle fence, but wasn't in a hurry to acknowledge my being there.
So, I started to whistle and here he came. I'm thinking that I will probably be able to pet this "little" guy. Afterall, I might even give him something to eat (I didn't have anything to give him, but what did he know?). So, after a few more whistles & clucks of the toungue, he finally walked over. Here he is:
There's just one problem with buffalo: they don't like people. Maybe it's due to nearly being exterminated by the indians and cowboys two centuries ago. I'm not sure. I wasn't thinking about any of that. I was this close to a real, live buffalo. I was going to pet him. When I reached over the fence to touch his head, he ducked. He then made a quick move toward the fence and pushed against the barbed wire with his head. I reached and scratched his head. But I noticed that he was snorting and pawing the ground. The wire in the fence started squeaking and the fence posts started "popping." Ralph was trying to get me! That leads to the next picture:
Notice that I snapped the picture to the right of Ralph at this point. I was moving in the general direction of my car. I remembered what I saw on the discovery channel once - buffalo are able to run between 30 and 50 miles per hour. If I stayed around the fence, he'd probably get mad enough to break it or something. I could just see myself being bulldozed and gored by Ralph and then have him turn on my wife in our car and wreck that. If we were fortunate enough to survive the attack, some passerby might report a certain license plate number and tell authorities that I was in the vicinity and was responsible for the beast getting out. It was a good time to just get in the car and continue up the road.
On our way back from our trip, we took a detour through Oklahoma and its indian territory. In one of the towns we passed through, we saw this sign:
I guess that's what happens to bad buffalo. Ralph beware.
The first one didn't want to have anything to do with me and never turned around. Still, he was a fine specimen. I call him Harry. He was the bigger of the two. Here's his picture:
The other buffalo was a little smaller. I call him Ralph. He was intrigued by my presence at the cattle fence, but wasn't in a hurry to acknowledge my being there.
So, I started to whistle and here he came. I'm thinking that I will probably be able to pet this "little" guy. Afterall, I might even give him something to eat (I didn't have anything to give him, but what did he know?). So, after a few more whistles & clucks of the toungue, he finally walked over. Here he is:
There's just one problem with buffalo: they don't like people. Maybe it's due to nearly being exterminated by the indians and cowboys two centuries ago. I'm not sure. I wasn't thinking about any of that. I was this close to a real, live buffalo. I was going to pet him. When I reached over the fence to touch his head, he ducked. He then made a quick move toward the fence and pushed against the barbed wire with his head. I reached and scratched his head. But I noticed that he was snorting and pawing the ground. The wire in the fence started squeaking and the fence posts started "popping." Ralph was trying to get me! That leads to the next picture:
Notice that I snapped the picture to the right of Ralph at this point. I was moving in the general direction of my car. I remembered what I saw on the discovery channel once - buffalo are able to run between 30 and 50 miles per hour. If I stayed around the fence, he'd probably get mad enough to break it or something. I could just see myself being bulldozed and gored by Ralph and then have him turn on my wife in our car and wreck that. If we were fortunate enough to survive the attack, some passerby might report a certain license plate number and tell authorities that I was in the vicinity and was responsible for the beast getting out. It was a good time to just get in the car and continue up the road.
On our way back from our trip, we took a detour through Oklahoma and its indian territory. In one of the towns we passed through, we saw this sign:
I guess that's what happens to bad buffalo. Ralph beware.
Friday, August 05, 2005
I'm from East Texas...
As most folks know, Texans are proud people. We think we have a lot to be proud of. If someone's from East Texas they're not afraid to say so. And why not? It's home for some of the most beautiful country in the entire state of Texas as well as the entire country. But to many, East Texas is a big secret. You might be wondering did anybody famous ever come out of East Texas? I'm glad you asked.
Still there are others. For instance, Lightnin' Hopkins is from Crockett. Sissy Spacek is from Quitman. For a bigger list of notable Texas celebrities, click here or here.
Still there are others. For instance, Lightnin' Hopkins is from Crockett. Sissy Spacek is from Quitman. For a bigger list of notable Texas celebrities, click here or here.
Salmon Lake Bluegrass Festival
Here's a little of what I promised for this blog. There's an upcoming bluegrass festival in Grapeland, Texas a the end of this month. It's called the Salmon Lake Bluegrass Festival. I know there are probably better bluegrass festivals around the country. This one is a little more down home, East Texas style. It's not real big. Everyone is friendly and they seem to return year after year. Also, if anyone might be looking for a business opportunity in the East Texas area, Floyd and Fannie may have one for you.
There are other good ones around. The Red River Valley Spring Bluegrass Festival in Paris, Texas, is a little more well-known festival in the northeast Texas. I understand my cousin Argell and my uncle Charles attended this festival regularly. Argell was playing while Uncle Charles went to camp and hear the music. Another festival that is growing in popularity in my neck of the woods is sponsored by the Bay Area Bluegrass Association. I discovered the Texas Guitar Festival which is in Tyler, Texas recently. This isn't to be confused with a bluegrass festival. It is growing in popularity. According to the festival's founder, Eric Johnson dropped by for the guitar show this year.
I've been looking for links for the Black-Eyed Pea Jamboree and the Old Fiddler's Reunion, two festivals held in Athens, just a few miles from where I grew up. No luck there. However, go here to read about them and the town of Athens.
There are other good ones around. The Red River Valley Spring Bluegrass Festival in Paris, Texas, is a little more well-known festival in the northeast Texas. I understand my cousin Argell and my uncle Charles attended this festival regularly. Argell was playing while Uncle Charles went to camp and hear the music. Another festival that is growing in popularity in my neck of the woods is sponsored by the Bay Area Bluegrass Association. I discovered the Texas Guitar Festival which is in Tyler, Texas recently. This isn't to be confused with a bluegrass festival. It is growing in popularity. According to the festival's founder, Eric Johnson dropped by for the guitar show this year.
I've been looking for links for the Black-Eyed Pea Jamboree and the Old Fiddler's Reunion, two festivals held in Athens, just a few miles from where I grew up. No luck there. However, go here to read about them and the town of Athens.
Thursday, August 04, 2005
Someone Ought To Write A Book About This
2 years ago, while I was visiting my mother, she produced a historical artifact that literally changed my life. She said she received this from her dying cousin, Argell Walker.
Argell, or "Pee Wee" Walker as he was known, was as famous as anyone could be from East Texas I suppose. He had won fiddler's contests all over the country and had played nearly every dive and honky-tonk in the South. When I bought my first "new" car, the salesman told me how he and his then wife would dance all night in their favorite bar with Argell's band playing the night away (I don't know how I got on the subject with a car salesman). It turned out, as we talked, that he wasn't lying to me. It only proved just how famous Argell was. Argell played the East Texas bluegrass circuit probably all of his natural life. He was a fiddler extraordinaire. In the words of Ray Price, a big name in bluegrass, "he was the best fiddle player I ever knew." The word was that Argell had to quit Ray's band in order to care for his ailing wife, Pat. Still, even until his death, when there was an announcement that Argell would be playing anywhere in East Texas, it was standing room only.
But, this story isn't about him. It's about the artifact my mother showed me. It is called a harmonia by the family. It's a crude kind of a hybrid banjo-fiddle thing. It has a fretted fingerboard with the frets spaced out awkwardly along the surface of the neck, not like the measured fretboards on instruments today. It has four strings and tunes like a fiddle or mandolin. The wood on the body is very dark about half an inch thick. It is thought to be either pecan or walnut wood, which for instruments is not the best choice. It's usually brittle and does not allow for good resonation. However, it is a very pretty instrument. But, that's not important to this story.
My grandfather gave the harmonia to my cousin Argell before my grandfather died around 1965 or 1966. He knew that Argell was musically talented and would likely be able to appreciate the instrument, as opposed to others in the family. As the instrument changed hands between my grandfather and my cousin, my grandfather told him the story that surrounds the harmonia. Later in life, Argell's mother, my grandfather's sister, told him the story again so he could write it down and keep it with the harmonia for posterity. Here's the story as it was told by Argell's mother, Delilah Walker:
It was made by a man from Clarksville, Texas (about 1 1/2 hours east-northeast of Dallas) around the turn of the century. He was a very talented man in arts and crafts, but was a lazy laborer. He was given to lavished living which could not be supported by his craft. After being married to a fine lady, he began to dabble with making counterfeit paper money. His wife, being the fine person she was, found out and strongly disapproved of his activities. After warning him to stop making the money, she said she was going to the police. It was said that he killed her either by choking her or beating her to death. Nobody knows for sure. He buried her body in the garden behind their house.
Some time later, the man's father-in-law came by to visit his daughter. The man told him that she had run off and did not say where she was going. Her father knew this was not her way, but he left the man and went on his way. Some time later, the father-in-law returned to the house while the man was away. He noticed onions growing in the garden behind the house. They were growing in the fall, after everything else had been picked. He also noticed a foul smell and some clay mixed with topsoil in the middle of the garden. He went into the garden with a rod and proceeded to poke and prod the ground around the onion plants.
The girl's father uncovered her body and called the police. But, word spread around town that the man had killed his wife and disposed of her in the garden. A mob gathered and set out to find him. They caught him at a neighbor's farm just down the road from his house. The mob beat and whipped the man and hanged him in the Clarksville city square.
The story goes that on the night the man killed his wife, he sat on the porch and played the harmonia throughout the night. Neighbors all around heard the music as he played. For several nights afterward, the man would sit out on his porch and play until it was late.
In the time after the man murdered his wife and before his death, the man fell into debt to my grandfather. The only thing of value the man owned was the harmonia. It was given to my grandfather in trust until the debt could be paid, but never got the opportunity to repay the debt.
The man's name has long since been forgotten. The folks who knew him and what happened have all passed away. The only thing left is the old harmonia and it remains with our family.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Urban Sprawl - What's the Deal?
Change has never been something I have looked forward to or welcomed with much enthusiasm. I understand that some people welcome change and actually look forward to it. My wife, for instance, loves to rearrange the furniture just I as get accustomed to where it is in our house. Not a big thing to most folks. It's pretty big to me - especially when it happens while I'm away from home. I was used to sitting in the chair in that corner, facing that direction while watching TV. But, that's small potatoes.
I've been in the Houston area now for 7 - 1/2 years and have never ceased to be amazed at how large chunks of nature seem to be oblitterated with very little or no warning. I'm not an environmentalist wacko or anything remotely close to that. However, it's very depressing to see an entire section of a 40 or 50 year-old forest get bulldozed and then see the mangled timber burned in large piles of debris. Couldn't the wood be utilized in some way? What's the problem with keeping a few of the trees in the parking lot? I think it would look a lot better with a tree or two around these buildings - as opposed to transplanting pseudo trees to every place a new parking lot is built. Wouldn't it be better with the native trees instead?
And what about all the wild animals that are losing their home? What are they supposed to do? I'm not an animal rights freak either. But, I don't particularly like seeing raccoons and possums roaming around my neighborhood because they have nowhere else to go. It makes that routine visit to the vet more important - knowing the family pet might be exposed to rabies or worse. Can there be some research to see if it's possible to transplant these animals before they lose their home? Nah, that would just cost too much money. I know I wouldn't want to pay for it, but I'm sure someone would. Maybe those same folks wouldn't mind transplanting the possums who live in my neighbor's shed. There's a whole family in there - big ones, small ones and in between. I know if I see another one on top of my fence, I just might have to shoot it. Geez, possums sure are ugly!
I doubt this blog will stop another group of trees from being plowed under or save another animal's abode. That's not my goal here. What I hope is that I can get folks to stop long enough to think about some of the repercussions of new shopping center coming to the neighborhood. Maybe someone might stop to think about what is being wasted and the impact on the wildlife that once lived there. If anything, I hope we'll pause and think about what is being lost. Is all change "good?"
I've been in the Houston area now for 7 - 1/2 years and have never ceased to be amazed at how large chunks of nature seem to be oblitterated with very little or no warning. I'm not an environmentalist wacko or anything remotely close to that. However, it's very depressing to see an entire section of a 40 or 50 year-old forest get bulldozed and then see the mangled timber burned in large piles of debris. Couldn't the wood be utilized in some way? What's the problem with keeping a few of the trees in the parking lot? I think it would look a lot better with a tree or two around these buildings - as opposed to transplanting pseudo trees to every place a new parking lot is built. Wouldn't it be better with the native trees instead?
And what about all the wild animals that are losing their home? What are they supposed to do? I'm not an animal rights freak either. But, I don't particularly like seeing raccoons and possums roaming around my neighborhood because they have nowhere else to go. It makes that routine visit to the vet more important - knowing the family pet might be exposed to rabies or worse. Can there be some research to see if it's possible to transplant these animals before they lose their home? Nah, that would just cost too much money. I know I wouldn't want to pay for it, but I'm sure someone would. Maybe those same folks wouldn't mind transplanting the possums who live in my neighbor's shed. There's a whole family in there - big ones, small ones and in between. I know if I see another one on top of my fence, I just might have to shoot it. Geez, possums sure are ugly!
I doubt this blog will stop another group of trees from being plowed under or save another animal's abode. That's not my goal here. What I hope is that I can get folks to stop long enough to think about some of the repercussions of new shopping center coming to the neighborhood. Maybe someone might stop to think about what is being wasted and the impact on the wildlife that once lived there. If anything, I hope we'll pause and think about what is being lost. Is all change "good?"
Tuesday, August 02, 2005
What is a muscodine?
A muscodine (actually spelled "muscAdine," as mentioned before) is a grape, typically wild, that grows mostly in Southern States within the US. I don't know much about them particularly. I just remember that my grandmother used to pick them off a vine that grew along a fence in her back yard. She would freeze them and my cousins and I would suck on them until they melted. We never bit into them. We were afraid to. By the time the grapes had melted in our mouths, it was time to spit them out. They were the most sour things I can think of - including persimmons. My kids like sour candy. I can assure anyone that a good, ripe muscodine will give sour candy a run for its money - any day. One can only imagine what those sour little suckers can do in a batch of wine. (If somebody knows where I can find a vintage, please let me know.)
Anyway, this site is going to be dedicated to the uniqueness of the things that can be found in the South, more particularly East Texas. Even though I don't live there today, it shaped who I am and has given me a unique perspective on the world. That perspective is what I hope to share and convey here.
Enjoy!
Monday, August 01, 2005
How do you spell muscodine?
I thought when I started this blog that it was spelled muscodine, so I signed up with it like so. Then, I did a google search. To my suprise, it was spelled muscAdine, like this http://images.google.com/images?q=muscodine&hl=en. Oops! so much for the phonics I was taught when I learned to read. I originally changed the name of the blog, but the URL will forever be http://muscodinewine.blogspot.com. So at this site, the reference to that wonderful, sour little grape will be with it spelled MuscOdine. There's a little of that ornery Texas spirit in there!
Actually, I think it is in character with the whole mystique of the fruit and the feeling I want to promote within this blog. It's not the every day variety of fruit. Chances are most people don't have a clue what it is in the first place. So, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter how it's spelled. If somebody has heard of the muscadine grape and they have an affinity for all things East Texan, they've come to the right place.
Actually, I think it is in character with the whole mystique of the fruit and the feeling I want to promote within this blog. It's not the every day variety of fruit. Chances are most people don't have a clue what it is in the first place. So, as far as I'm concerned, it doesn't matter how it's spelled. If somebody has heard of the muscadine grape and they have an affinity for all things East Texan, they've come to the right place.
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