I wrote this song for Billy and his cigar smoking friends in Arizona.
This song can be sung to the tunes of, I walk the Line, He’s an Old Hippy, and Grandmagot run over by a Reindeer. I was going to try to put it all together, but I don’t have a year.
Smoke one for Dad, Billy – here is the chorus.
Error
This video doesn’t exist
No Cigar
If you didn’t see him enter
but you knew that he was here
If you see a ring of smoke around his beer
If he catches your eye and heads your way to say hi
and you hope the smoke will make him disappear
He’s doing fine so far, but no cigar He can belly up to the bar but no cigar.
Cigar smoking buddies are elite and they don’t drink a drink unless it’s neat
He can stick around and listen
to their stories and repeats
if he never mentions one of his own feats
Cigar smokers are precocious…often braggadocios
but they don’t identify with athletes
He’s doing fine so far, but no cigar He can belly up to the bar but no cigar
Cigar smoking buddies are elite and they don’t drink a drink that isn’t neat
If he was born in the forties,
smoked cigars since he was two
and says he much prefers to smoke a Louixs
He opens his cigar box, and they know they have been outfoxed
when he says here’s a Liouxs for each of you
He’s doing fine so far, but no cigar He can belly up to the bar but no cigar
Cigar smoking buddies are elite and they don’t drink a drink that isn’t neat
The cigar smoking buddies
hesitate and then debate ….maybe they should re-evaluate
They say, sit down over here… let us buy you a beer
We almost made a terrible mistake
They’ll all belly up to the bar and smoke cigars
They’ll talk about when they were football stars
They’ll chase elite, neat drinks down with a beer
and invite the new guy back each time he’s here
They’ll recall the lazy days of way back when
Their buddies were cool cats, and nerds were finks
Hey MG readers! I’m almost finished with my project and I will most likely post it this evening. In the meantime, here is another rerun. I hope I’m not the only one who gets a chuckle out of the Brick House campaign for Next Pres, stories.
I’ve been all over the place haven’t I? I’ve written a couple of Murdo/History/camera stories, Beastertown, Pearl, and of course tiny home updates. We’re only a few weeks away from occupying our new tiny mansion, so updates will be forthcoming. You will love it! Maybe I will be able to stay more focused once we are all settled in. Thank you for your enduring patience!
The following has been edited. Who says you can’t rewrite the past?
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It’s Saturday night at the Coyote County Convention. The keynote speaker is Lav Yekcel. Head for the platform Lav and make your anytime minutes count.
Remember not too long ago when Kip and I were making plans to pilot a new show for HGTV. Sherri Miller suggested we call it “Tiny Tippers”, which was a good idea. Since we aren’t going to buy a new tiny home every week, the premise will be for us to give helpful tips on the ins and outs of getting a tiny home from conception to completion. The new word for tips, is actually hacks, but “Tiny Hackers,” reminds me too much of the cold I just recovered from.
Anyway, we will eventually complete our pilot, but we’re at a standstill right now, so we came up with something to keep us busy and still be able to use the ingenious name, “Tiny Tippers.” Here’s how we came up with the alternate usage.
We currently live in an RV Park right on Main Street in Gun Barrel City. We have to walk our dogs several times a day which gives us…shall we say, “opportunities” to notice what people are doing. Unless we know them, we really don’t care what they’re doing so we only spy on…not really spy…what is a good word that means something like spy, but not offensive? Anyway, we only detect and make note of what people we know are doing.
Today, for instance, we happened to be walking over by East Texas Medical Center. We saw a lady who looked like Helen P. hop out of her car and jump into a man’s car. Kip yelled, “Hey! What are you doing?”
Helen turned around and said, “We’re going to get a hot dog, and then we’re going to come back here and walk.”
While Kip had Helen distracted, I took the dogs and walked over to the other side of the car so I could identify the man Helen was apparently rendezvousing with in the parking lot… in broad daylight, no less.
Well, it was Gary P, Helen P’s husband, which is beside the point entirely. It could have been someone we didn’t know, in which case, we wouldn’t have paid any attention to him unless, of course, Helen wanted to introduce us.
Tip: No matter what you suspect, always drill down until you get to the truth.
Later, we saw Don R running into ETMC. He was carrying a suspicious looking bag. We were quite a distance away and the dogs were getting too tired to move fast. Hence, we weren’t able to get Don R’s attention, so we went on to complete our walk. When we came back through the ETMC parking lot, Kip said, “Hey look! There is Don R’s car and it’s parked all crooked. What do you suppose that means?”
I had an idea!!
“Don’t you remember how fast he was running to get into the building with his little bag? The way he was hanging on to it, I’m sure it was probably full of money. Maybe Gary and Helen P are blackmailing him and he was rushing into the gym where they were going to walk after they had their hot dog.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Kip said. “There is Mary Ann R ‘s car parked next to her husband, Don R’s car. Man, they are taking up three parking spaces, and they’re good ones too!”
At that point, we had to go back to the RV because the dogs wanted water.
We are left with one unanswered question. Why the heck do all these husbands and wives take separate cars to the ETMC gym? Look at all the time they have caused the “Tiny Tippers” to waste!
Later, we left to meet our Tuesday night dinner group in Athens. We both rode over in Kip’s truck. On the way there, we agreed to keep the events of the day to ourselves. We don’t think it’s necessary to “tip” people off. We will only talk about any given incident if there is dirt involved, if you know what I mean.
Anyway, if we don’t get some dirt soon, we’re going have to go out there and meet some people who aren’t so stoic. There is no money in spying on stoic people.
We went to a Chinese food restaurant tonight. You will not believe what I found when I opened up my fortune cookie.
It really inspired me.
Below, is the little girl who once swam at the swimming dam east of Murdo, SD. Pink Sandy taught me how to swim. His grandson, Wayne Esmay, shared this picture with me today.
I’ve grownup so much. I was the only kid in this picture who was still wearing a life belt. I no longer wear one, and I don’t hold my nose when I go under anymore, either.
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We can’t afford any cards yet, but if you require “Tiny Tippers’ ” services you can contact us at the ##### RV Park, space ### in Gun Barrel City. We’re in the RV with the busted up door. It’s been that way since the other night when we accidentally got locked out and the police had to come and show us how to break the door in. (Our dogs bite and the door is well barricaded.)
Tiny Tippers…If we don’t find dirt, no one gets hurt…We’re not bored, we’re just broke.
**Kip sat by Barbara S tonight and I sat next to Sara H. We got nothing. I probably could have gotten something on Bear J who sat across from us, but I passed on it because he’s going to help me back-up the dirt on my computer on Monday.**
Tomorrow is another day. I’m going to a painting place with some friends where we will eat and paint. I can’t paint, so I’ll try to overeavesdrop some dirt or at least a light dusting.
Several months ago, I began writing a sequel to the children’s book I published last year right before Easter. We Shall See what We Shall See is a story about having faith in things you cannot see. The inspiration for the book was a memory of a story I told my dad when I was a little girl. It was about a character I made up. I called him The Beasterhop.
Since Beastertown, USA is far from being ready to publish, I decided to share some of what I have written with you. I’m hoping you will want to share the stories about the townspeople with the little ones in your life. This is just the beginning of Beastertown, USA.
Welcome to Beastertown
We are the shining crown
Of rabbit cities everywhere. None other can quite compare.
We treat others with respect and go beyond what they expect.
When it rains, we see the sun, and rainbows surround everyone.
Promises are never broken, and unkind words are never spoken.
When you speak, we will hear. There’s nothing in our town to fear.
What is right, is never wrong. In Beastertown we get along.
We try hard to break bad habits, but remember… we’re all rabbits.
Perfection is not expected. Most mistakes can be corrected.
We might say, “For Heaven’s sake, learn from the mistakes you make.”
Come and see us everyone. We promise you’ll have lots of fun.
The Beasterhop has much to do, and many families to answer to.
He’s the Mayor of our growing town..The city with the shining crown.
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Golden Rule School
In Beastertown bunnies go to school and learn about the Golden Rule.
Before you say what you’ll regret, to someone who won’t soon forget, ask what would happen if you put.. the same shoe on the other foot.
Think about how you would feel.. if others said what was not real, but made -up stories that did not flatter. Would you say, “It doesn’t matter?”
Could you be a friend to one, who caused harm to… anyone, because they told tales out of school and didn’t follow the golden rule?
The Beasterhop comes here every day, and listens to what the children say.
They all know how much he cares. Yes… no one else quite compares
to the Beasterhop
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Murdo Girl reading We Shall See what We Shall See, by Mary Francis McNinch to the children attending story hour at the Seven Points Library. The book is available on amazon.
I really, really need a help yourself, self-help course. I have thought about it long enough and it is now time to help myself to things… other than candy and cookies and giving voice to strange thoughts. I have been the ring leader, in fact, the inspiration of the idea that the Whiteboard House can reinvent itself. Clever of me, wasn’t it? What else could be done to re-purpose an old grade school building full of small desks and smaller cartons of milk? I am no pioneer. I am a starter rather than a finisher, but this time, I am going to hang in there until I have seen this awesome juice plan fizzle out completely.
My mantra:
Ask not what you can do to help yourself. Ask what you can do to self-help everybody else in your life. It’s called focusing on something you can’t change…other people. Remember…if you are pointing your finger at someone else, there are three more fingers pointing at the people behind you. That’s a lot of people to set straight. Let us take action, now!!!
Hitchiking is fun, Pearl the dog…We just can’t stay in Murdo and watch this,,,
The first of several meetings planned to help us see the good in trashing other people. MG is sharing and chairing.
MG: Thank you so much for attending this groundbreaking meeting of the partial minds. We don’t want to give this our all, my friends. That would be a grievous mistake. We have nothing to gain, so please give it all the seriousness it deserves. I’m a blank slate, so I will open the meeting up for discussion. Lav, you look like you might be having a congruent thought. How does that feel?
Lav: It’s such a challenge, MG. How do I decide who to talk crap about first? BTW…it’s not much fun unloading my opinions when the objects of my denigrating remarks spoken in a soft, syrupy, lilting voice, are sitting there looking at me.
MG: Zackly! Who would you like to ask to leave, Lav?
Lav: Huh?
MG: No one word answers, please.
Lav: Do I look stupid, MG? If I asked you to leave, then I would be the only one here. Where is everybody? I am helpless and helping myself is not an option. Why do you think I come to Murdo and hang out with you? If I wanted change in my life, I would stay home.
There is a ringing sound occurring in MG’s ears. That is a hard call to answer, but thankfully, that won’t be necessary. The gang is here.
Carol: If you don’t mind, MG, we would like to start off this groundbreaking meeting of the partial minds with a medley of one appropriate tune. I will start.
My Way
Carol the singer
And now, the end is near
And so you face the final curtain
Next Pres MG, I’ll say it clear
I’ll state your case, of which I’m certain
you’ve been a Queen south of sixteen
You’ve traveled one big deadened highway
But more, much more than this…
Grab the mic, Presho Girl…
Regrets, you’ve had a few
But your mistakes were pretty many.
You did what you wanted to
And we saw it through without a penny.
We had some parties…fit for Queens and we never once wore Mom jeans. (Plus, we funded them all with beans,)
sing it sister, TC
You planned our chartered course
And each mis-step along the byway
And more, much more than this
You did it your way…
Yes, there were times, I’m sure you knew
When I bit off more cheese than I could chew
But through it all, when there was doubt
I ate it up and spit it out…yuck
(MG blurts out)
You faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way!!
Oh, sorry…who is next? Aggressive Informant?
I can’t sing. I’m wearing sunglasses.
You are not wearing sunglasses, …I am.
Jerry and Treason try a duet…
You’ve loved, you’ve laughed and cried
You’ve had your fill your share of losing
And now, as tears subside
We find it all so amusing
Hahahaha
Pico and Dm come dancing in. They have to dance the two step because they are both recovering from knee replacement surgery, therefore, out of four feet, only two can dance.
And now,…
To think you did all that
And may we say – not in a shy way
Oh no, not you
You stepped on some toes and did it your way…
Lav and MG bring it to a painful end.
For what is a Queen ? What has she got
If not herself, then she has naught.
To say the things she truly feels
And not the words of thoughtless heels
The record shows we took the bows
And did it our way…
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Yes, it was myyy..yua waaaay..
We had no idea, Billy…And all because we accidentally dropped her on her head when she was little and cute and a royal pain.
Rerun…feeling a lot better, but couldn’t get the new story completed, today. Love you all and thanks for hanging in there with me. I often miss the Brick House gang, anyway.
It’s Monday morning at the Brick House. Next Pres Murdo Girl is in the Oblong Office diligently working on her crossword puzzle. Let’s see. What is a 19 letter (two words) for spy _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ . “Easy one,” she says out loud. “Aggressive Informant, Yes! I can’t believe how smart I’m getting. I’m almost ready to go from beginner to intermediate!”
She is also getting pretty good at hearing someone coming up the stairs to her office. She hears footsteps now and hastily shoves her puzzle into the drawer stuffed with Bing candy bars, nail polish, and a newspaper. She looks up…
I want you to know that I take my job as the self-appointed tiny home queen of Mabank, TX very seriously. It’s mucho work, but the pilot we are taping will surely win us that coveted slot on HGTV soon to be vacated by Chip and Jo.
Ch’kip and Mo’Q are destined to be the next HGTV sensations. We will make it happen or I don’t have a big crown on my head. What time is their show on, anyway? I hope it’s over by nine.
I’ve started to emulate Jo on “Fixer Upper.” Our tiny home is not a fixer upper, but Ch’kip is. We will have to study and shop and be very creative. I will have people make things for me like Jo does.
We won’t do one thing I’ve noticed the Gaines do. They tell people it’s going to cost them $150,235.24, which is always right at the top of the budget. Then a few days later, they say, “Uh oh, we ran into wood rot so you’ll have to cough up another three grand.” The people can’t complain, because they’re on TV. We’ll just dry it out with a fan and burn a candle to get rid of the musty smell.
We’re in the process of readying our tiny Camelot for the viewing, unveiling, or whatever you call it. I worked all day on my sketches, so I hope you’ll appreciate them…a lot.
Back of house
Facing street
Here, I fooled around with some different ideas…We were going to use re-purposed pantyhose to make the rug, but the hose wouldn’t take the dye, so we just bought the rug at Target. I might take it back and try weaving a rug from colorful tights. Now that winter is almost over, I can probably get some on sale. I can re-purpose the rug next fall by taking it apart and wearing the tights.
To give it that 70’s look, I brought out an ashtray.
This is a bathroom. It doesn’t really look much like ours, but I was trying to decide on a stack-able washer and dryer. This set is on sale through tomorrow. This isn’t where it goes.
Full disclosure, here. None of these pictures are of our tiny house. This is a model home we spotted that looks a little bit like our house will when it’s built. The outside is pretty similar except the steps to the deck are on the short side which will be the front of the house. That 2 x 4 has to go. Ch’kip might be able to whittle something out of it…possibly a set of venetian blinds.
We don’t have anything on the walls yet, but we have thirty minutes before the showing, right Ch’kip?
This is too much! Wake me when it’s over…Moke, or Joke, or, Mo’Q… (MoQueen?) Whatever you call yourself…
Thornton-Pickard was established in 1888 in Manchester. After the death of one of the owners, and the resignation of another, the company ceased to exist in 1939.
(Found..the lens and the maker)
Thornton Pickard MCC No.6 Projector with brass lens ‘The Hatton’, fitted for an electric lamp..
I saw her at the depot and photographed her without her knowledge. As I looked at her lovely countenance, I tried to imagine why she traveled here. She was impeccably dressed and seemed so full of self assurance. I would guess she was highly intelligent and her life must be, or must have been, a big life. This kind of woman had family and friends who adored her. Did she arrive alone?
I was orphaned at the age of eleven. My mother and my father, a physician, died from a terrible illness. It was an epidemic that overcame so many. In some cases, entire families died. I was destined to live and I intended to lead a life I could be proud of.
I didn’t come here alone. I arrived with my husband. He was a handsome young man who was in the business of owning and operating hardware stores.
My granddaughter wrote this poem about my life here. Little did I know that some of my best years would be lived above the Murdo Depot. I raised my family there.
Constance Francis Bowers
She lived before me, her years were few, this woman who I never knew.
I didn’t know her, but knew of her, Constance was my father’s mother.
I’ve seen her pictures from way back then, and letters that she sometimes penned.
Her husband died and went to heaven. My Father William was only seven.
Son Charles was two, John only ten. These boys were hers alone to tend.
She owned a hardware store in Murdo, and tried her best to make it go.
No time to grieve, she worked long hours. Then Constance Francis wed William Bowers.
Bill Bowers was 55 and Connie was 38 when they married.
William had lost his children’s mother, and until Connie, had loved no other.
By all accounts they got along. Their’s was a union described as strong.
Dad Bowers and Connie, six kids in tow, lived fifteen years above the Depot.
The Murdo Depot
Life was good, but there were fears, for these were the depression years.
The small rooms above the railroad station, had no plumbing for the duration.
The heat was from two old coal stoves. They carried water to wash their clothes.
The years went by, the children grew, and then they were faced with World War II.
Most of the six stayed way out west, after the war, they thought it best.
Charles the youngest, Connie’s pride, got a furlough when Dad Bowers died.
It was 1943, it seemed California was the place to be.
In 46, after the war, Connie sold Francis hardware store.
To California she made her way, where son Charles attended UCLA
She made a home for Charles and his friends, but far too soon her story ends
She made plans for a trip to Murdo, but became too ill and couldn’t go.
1948 was the year she died. Her son Charles was by her side.
She died at the age of fifty-nine. I am one of her family, and she was one of mine.
Bill Francis, an Army Engineer, later chose a plumbing career.
He married Loretta and settled down, they raised two children in their hometown.
John stayed out west on a whim and Margaret left teaching in Murdo to marry him.
John chose teaching as his career path; moved to Pasadena, and taught High School Math.
Bob, Bev, and Margarete, were the nicest people you could ever meet.
In California they made good lives. Happy to be where winter never arrives.
Charles married Barbara and moved to New York. The depression was over. He would eat no more salt pork. Yes, Chuck, the youngest of all, had an amazing career and raised Abby and Paul.
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All of us are God’s creations. Our families span the generations.
Some come to us by birth, others arrive magically. Some carry our blood or bring us life after tragedy. Yes, remember them well right from the start and let them live forever, deep in your heart.
Lav…
I was orphaned at the age of eleven. My mother and my father, a physician, died from a terrible illness. It was an epidemic that overcame so many. In some cases, entire families died. I was destined to live and I intended to lead a life I could be proud of.
Those 70ish Girls 