Keith Markley, my best friend from Law School, served as a Special Assistant to Lt. Governor Preston Smith. He achieved this position much sooner than I due to his hard work, stellar personality, and a smile that just wouldn’t stop! Keith was smart as a whip, and full of great ambition.
Keith wanted to become a State Legislator so he set out to campaign, but was overwhelmed by the expertise and financial backing of a seasoned political opponent.
I know Keith walked every block of his legislative district introducing himself to the Refugio community, but hard work and shoe leather were not enough. Keith lost the election, but he earned my undying respect.
I owe so much to Keith Markley. He helped me advance in the Senate, he always watched my back, and he genuinely cared about my wellbeing.
When Keith went to work at the new Regional Council of Government, an institution he helped create, we worked projects together. When I needed to find a home, he located one just half a block from his home. An Air Force Chaplain was being transferred and needed to sell this great two-story home in just two weeks. Keith knew the man, so we got the deal of a life time, which included appliances. There was one big drawback: the carpet was fuchsia red!
Most importantly, when I got drafted, Keith helped me get into the Air Force. The United States was deep into the Viet Nam War in 1969. My graduate school roommates and I had low draft lottery numbers; we were all drafted! Virgil went to the Army and became a Second Lieutenant in the Infantry. He was shot in the back by his own men, became a paraplegic, and returned home a bitter, broken man. He later committed suicide by driving his vehicle into the gasoline pumps at an Austin Texaco Gas Station and blowing himself up.
A second roommate was already a Navy Lieutenant. All he ever wanted was to “drive” his 15’ inboard/outboard boat on Lake Travis. We made a good team: I’d drive the boat and John would water ski! We always laughed that I only ran him into a partially submerged fence once!
John found himself piloting another 15’ boat on the Mekong River in Viet Nam. His boat hit a mine. They never found his body. My third roommate Frank became a Marine. They never found his body either.
This was the troubled time in which I lived! I was now married. What was going to happen to me? Would I end up being counted among the war dead? But then there was Keith. He had heard the Commander of the Texas Air National Guard wanted a promotion, and that the Lt. Governor could be instrumental in securing that promotion.
Keith prevailed on the Lieutenant Governor to call the National Guard Bureau to “hurry-up” the General’s promotion. In return, the soon-to-be General would award me a slot in his Headquarters Unit of the Texas Air National Guard. This was huge! Only two slots were available. Keith made it possible for me to get one.
The Texas Air National Guard Commander was now a General! He drove to the Capitol to pick me up for lunch and to share his enthusiasm for having another “trophy” in his Headquarters Unit. The Lieutenant Governor was happy that I was in a good place; the General was happy with his promotion; my new wife could breathe a bit easier.
Having said all this, I have suffered greatly over the years with “survivor guilt.” Why should I survive when these three bright, wonderful, talented young men would pay the ultimate price for their country. This has haunted me, but I made the decision that I would try to live the best life I could, and try to help as many people who crossed my path. This would be done in honor of Virgil, John, and Frank. I’ve tried to hold true to this, but every Memorial Day haunts me. So many tears shed every year.
Of course, Keith’s and my friendship worked both ways. I was able to find a reasonably priced home for Keith and his wife Jackie. When his family needed additional resources, I gave Jackie a job in my newly formed Executive Services Inc., a legislative research service. But more importantly, Keith and I were great friends until he passed away from cancer. He died at a very early age before he could complete his dreams.
Both Keith Markley and David Vinson (Best Man) left this world too early in their thirties. Now, they have been gone for over forty years. It’s hard making new “best friends” because fear of losing them has made me stand-offish. Having said this, I have discovered a few new wonderful friendships with William, Chris, and Fred.
Headed to Basic Training
Joy put me on a bus in Austin as I rode off to Lackland Air Force Base for Basic Training and active duty. I was so grieved to leave her, but Uncle Sam said I needed another adventure. I arrived in San Antonio and was quickly ushered to my assigned Air Force Flight under the command of Sergeant Toefury. This was a barrel-chested guy about 5’8” who seemed set on killing the 40 men in his unit! He told us he was going to break us down, and rebuild us into men!
He asked if anyone had any military experience. My hand shot up followed by my announcing I had taken Air Force ROTC in college, followed by groans from the other members of my unit. Toefury named me “guidon bearer,” the person who carries the unit’s flag and leads the unit in marching.
I soon discovered the other 39 members of my unit were from upstate New York and Polish! It didn’t take me long to realize that my “Aggie jokes” were too easily translated into “Polish jokes,” so I kept my mouth shut. Every one of these young, enthusiastic kids was great! Most of them just turned eighteen years of age; I was twenty-five. I soon found myself the de facto leader of this group because I had better stories to tell. This probably happened because I had better “sense.”
Being the guidon was not always a great job. I remember getting a bad case of shin-splints from running too many miles on concrete. The Drill Sergeant sent me to the base infirmary where the doctor prescribed Darvon. Unfortunately, I would learn that Darvon would make me drunk!
I can hear Sergeant Toefury yelling “Fall Out” (of the barracks). “We are headed for the drill field.” I took my position as guidon, but I was “drunk-as-a-skunk”. We marched about 50 yards punctuated with the Sergeant yelling: “Beetle-eyes, (that’s me with glasses) what are you doing?” In actuality, I was wandering all over the road. The poor airmen behind me were trying to follow my drunken movements. My buddies told me later that my attempting to march was hysterical, but the Sergeant was not amused.
Toefury raced up to me, grabbed me with both hands, and shook me until my glasses fell off. I laughed in his face. He asked what the heck was wrong with me. I don’t really remember what I said, but it must have been sufficient for him to send me back to the barracks.
On arrival at the barracks, I had to walk up two flights of stairs to get to my floor. This proved to be much harder than anyone might think. I would make it up a few steps, and fall backwards catching myself on the hand rail. After much effort, I finally made it to the top of the stairs, took my hand off the rail, and fell all the way back to the first floor and passed out. The barracks guard told me he never saw anyone bounce down the stairs just using their head!
I remember waking up with the Sergeant holding me by the collar, shaking me again, and yelling: “Don’t you dare die on me Beetle-eyes.”
After that day, I determined that I was going to get back at the Drill Sergeant by never doing the Obstacle Course. My Polish friends loved the idea! Trainees were required to successfully complete the obstacle course twice during basic training.
On my first attempt, I arranged with two buddies to help me fall into the river. The first obstacle was walking across a river using two ropes: one for your hands; one for your feet. I got the two tallest guys to go before and after me on the ropes. They were to raise the ropes midway across the river thereby causing me to fall into the river. It worked great!
Sergeant Toefury screamed that I was the dumbest SOB that ever walked the Earth and that no one had ever failed to cross the river. He sent me back to the barracks in disgust! My plan worked. The whole unit laughed about this for days!
On the second round of the obstacle course, the Training Commander decided our unit would first proceed through tear gas training and then move on to the regular obstacle course. The tear gas testing area was a small room on the edge of the course that would test our skills to properly put on and wear a gas mask. They would flood the room with tear gas and we would endure a few moments of discomfort when commanded to remove the masks. They wanted us to know what it felt like.
When it came time for me to remove my mask, Sergeant Toefury decided to “enhance” my experience! He grabbed my mask as if to rip it off my face. Dodging the Sergeant’s grabbing motion made me lose my balance! I reached out for his shoulder for stability. My hand missed his shoulder coming to rest on the side of his mask. When he ripped off my mask, I fell backwards still holding onto his mask.
I remember the snapping sound as his mask slammed back slightly off his face. He was engulfed with tear gas and gasping for air. What followed was a chain of expletives that would have made the Devil grimace. Between tear gas tears and sobs, Sergeant Toefuy screamed something about my heritage, and that I was to return to the barracks. He said he would discipline me later.
It ended up that I never ran the obstacle course nor received any disciplinary action.
A young Air Force Lieutenant was going through the gas chamber protocol with us, and observed the Sergeant’s inappropriate actions. I received no more harsh treatment from Sergeant Toefury. Did he make me into a better man? Yes, I think he did, because he taught me a great deal about patience.
I forget to mention that my first Drill Sergeant-Grunt experience happened my first night in the barracks. At precisely 1:00 AM, Toefury strolled into the barracks and discovered a shoe lace peaking-out of my boot. Apparently, he grabbed me by my underwear and hurled me across the room into the opposing wall. I awoke falling down from that wall. The whole Air Force flight had to go outside and march for an hour. This was not the way to start Basic Training, but it did teach us the nature of our Drill Sergeant!
Having a Baby
One bright spot during Basic Training was a phone call I received from my wife. She informed me we were going to have a baby! Here I was, maybe going off to war, and my beautiful wife was going to have to deal with all the issues associated with moving from Austin back to Memphis, and then having a baby.
I told Joy we were scheduled to have a half-day’s leave in a week, and would it be possible for her to visit me in San Antonio. She did, and this made such a huge difference!
When Joy arrived, my heart soared! It was like being a part of civilization again. We headed off to see the Ringling Brothers Barnum & Bailey Circus Parade! What fun, except that a llama (from the parade) stepped on my highly polished shoes leaving an unfixable cut mark all across the face of my shoe. I tried to explain the problem to the Drill Sergeant but he was heartless. He just kept saying demerits, demerits, demerits.
I had a degree in Chemistry, Zoology, and Law. Surely I could figure out how to fix a cut mark on my shoe. Yes, it was deep, but there must be something I could do. Buffing wouldn’t work; dying the mark seemed useless. Then one of my Polish friends said: “Why don’t you just melt down some shoe polish, fill the groove with the polish, and then add more polish on top!”
It worked! You couldn’t tell that I had any mark on the shoe until one hot San Antonio day when my shoe melted during a big inspection. The Inspecting Officer asked why I had a puddle of what appeared to be black wax next to my foot. He was so amazed at my lengthy but interesting story that he just saluted and walked away!
I successfully completed Basic Training and was now off to Keesler Air Force Base near Biloxi, Mississippi. All the members of my flight had their special assignments, but I was going to Administration School. I stayed in-touch with many of these guys for years!
Arriving at Keesler AFB, I found my room to be a disgusting World War II barracks. The rooms were so hot and the “john” so nasty that I would flee to the air conditioned base movie house to rest, cool off, and use their facilities! “Gone with the Wind” was playing. I saw the film more than forty times, but loved every minute sleeping on the back row in the “cool.”
My Keesler sergeant informed me I was to get a three-day pass! I decided I had just enough time to get to Houston to see Mom and Dad due to the length of the bus trip. I begged a ride off the base to the Biloxi bus station. Apparently, the stories were true: townsfolk did not like the military!
I heard stories about airmen getting hassled, but now it was my turn. I learned earlier in life that it was crucial to avoid fights since “smaller-than-tall” people generally didn’t win. Luckily, I was able to avoid any real confrontation by jumping behind the bus station’s ticket counter and offering to help unload baggage. The old gentleman selling tickets saw my problem and was more than willing to accept my help. The town bullies soon lost interest, and I departed Biloxi without a scratch.
Dad met me at the downtown bus station! I was so glad to see him! He told me Mom wanted us to go to a dinner theater that night and enjoy a big dose of happiness. I don’t remember the name of the play performed that night, but I was just grateful to be with family and have a decent meal.
I Was Dying
The next morning I awoke relatively early. My eyes opened, but I didn’t move. I couldn’t move. I was filled with fear! I couldn’t move my body. I was paralyzed. I could only slightly move my head. I started screaming for Dad! He would later reflect that he awoke to the most blood-curdling screams. I could hear my parents running to my room. I remember telling them they needed to notify the Red Cross, and that they would get in-touch with my Base Commander. I think I lost consciousness. I have no idea how they got me to the hospital.
The next thing I knew, I was in an intensive care isolation unit at Houston’s Methodist Hospital. Doctors and nurses were wearing full protective clothing and treating me like I was “typhoid Mary.”
The first thing I remember is waking up and seeing a distinguished looking gray-haired doctor. This was Dr. Cummings, a specialist in Internal Medicine and a teacher at the Baylor College of Medicine located nearby. He told me to call him “Hatch” and that I was very ill.
I asked Dr. Cummings what was wrong. He told me they didn’t know what the problem was, but that it was shutting down my systems. He added that I had an unusually large liver, and continued to probe it like it was a new toy!
It seems that my liver was to become a “cause celebre.” Before it was over, every medical student at Baylor Medical School was brought to my room to probe my liver! I didn’t particularly mind the company, but everyone came in wearing bio-hazard suits yet trying to remain light-hearted for my sake.
Movement slowly began to creep back into my body as the weeks passed. I thought I was “on-the-mend” until Dr. Cummings came in and quietly told me that my liver was failing, and that I would have only a few more days of life. He suggested I contact my wife and get her to Houston as quickly as possible!
I wasn’t particularly afraid of dying; I was horrified about the predicament that faced my wife! Should I tell her I might only have a few more days to live, or should I just let the doctors handle it? What do I tell my parents who looked at me every day through a 1” thick glass pane. Isolation gave me time to help find the words.
One Baylor Medical student came to see me almost every day. I told him about the events at Tulane Medical School that caused me to become a lawyer. We would both laugh at the Dean’s comments, but it meant a great deal to have someone willing to put on the protective clothing and just come in and talk.
Joy arrived, and although being very pregnant, she crawled into bed next to me. I thought the nurses were going to have a “fit” because they still didn’t know what was causing my medical condition. They were afraid she would catch the “bug.”
For a few blushing moments, it was almost like we were home in Austin. We had many laughs in our first apartment.
Our First Apartment in Austin
Shortly after we got back from the honeymoon, we moved into our first apartment located just two blocks east of the University of Texas Stadium. It was a great one bedroom at the Hillside Village Apartments. This was perfect for a senior law student and a teacher launching into her career at Govalle Elementary School in Austin.
Then, one Saturday morning, while Joy and I were both still asleep I, a mysterious power saw came cutting through the wall! We couldn’t believe our eyes. The air seemed saturated with sawdust. Grinding sounds emanated from the Apartment Manager’s Office next door.
It seems the Apartment Manager, Blanch Moberg, had decided to begin a project to enlarge her office that Saturday morning. We knew this was going to happen and planned to move upstairs, but there was no notice it would take place that Saturday morning. You can’t believe how fast two people can run as they try to protect their dignity from an invading carpenter!
The door was cut into our bedroom in less than 15 minutes. We barely had enough time to get out of the way. Having said this, the Mobergs, were wonderful people and always went out of their way to help us.
Never Told Joy
I never told Joy that I had only a few more days to live. She already seemed to have enough problems on her shoulders with the pregnancy and having to move back to Memphis for the summer. I always knew she had the strength to face any crisis.
As it turns out, I lived! I was so happy I had not put my wife through the anguish of anticipating my death! My liver seemed to endure whatever was wrong, and I started to improve.
I was walking now, and was moved out of isolation, but still restricted to the intensive care unit. Each morning and afternoon was filled with dozens of new medical students coming to probe my liver. There seemed to be an unending line of lab technicians drawing blood four times a day. I would show them where best to draw their blood; they were usually successful!
Everyone looked very professional, but no one ever gave me a definitive diagnosis. I don’t think anyone ever reached a conclusion about the cause of my infection, but after two months, I was discharged from the hospital!
I always wondered about what kind of “bug” I picked up during Basic Training. Maybe I picked it up sitting next to an old lady during the bus ride from Austin to San Antonio’s Lackland Air Force Base. I remember she kept coughing and spitting into the same old Kleenex.
The end result of this horrible illness would be that I would have reduced immunities throughout my life, followed by innumerable infections.
My Return to Keesler AFB
Now, I was on a flight back to Keesler AFB to rejoin my unit. My training in Administration had barely started when I took this fateful 3-day leave/weekend to Houston. Apparently, the Red Cross had not properly informed the Air Force of my whereabouts. There were all kinds of questions about what happened to me!
All of these questions were soon resolved when I pulled out the Medical Bill from Methodist Hospital. I had accrued almost a half a million dollars in medical expenses which seemed proof enough that I had a legitimate reason to be in Houston. All was made right, and I was quickly returned to the Administrative Training track.
Class re-started for me the next day. I finished the written work in record time and headed to the typing test. It seems I finished the assignment so quickly that I earned the Air Force Record for speed typing. Of course, that was typing on an old manual typewriter.
I left Kessler in a few days and returned to Austin where I would spend a few days in the Headquarters Unit, and then it was off to my active duty station at Ellington Air Force Base located southeast of Houston. I performed administrative duties for Brigadier General Walter Staudt, Base Commander. It was great to be located so close to my family.
After Active Duty
I always liked Air Guard Weekends at Ellington AFB because I got to see so many interesting people. One of our regular guests was the son of Congressman H.W. Bush. He, too, had a special “invitee” into the Air National Guard, but fulfilled his flight training and was a qualified pilot. I enjoyed talking to him because George Bush was a man’s man. He just liked to “chew-the-fat” with everyone. He was not really good with names, so he had a nickname for everyone!
After finishing active duty, I returned to Austin transferring into the Texas Air National Guard Headquarters Unit at Camp Mabry. I was assigned to work in General James Rose’s Office, Commander of the TANG.
During Guard Summer Duty, I enjoyed meeting the cream of Austin’s young politicians and lobbyists that inhabited the Headquarters Unit. I also had the wonderful opportunity to meet Harold Taft, the head of the Weather Unit for the Texas Air National Guard. I spent many hours with Harold learning about meteorology and forecasting. This was to have a major influence on my life in the 1980’s, and would lead to new friendships at KXAS-TV in Fort Worth, Harold’s home television station.
Joy returned to Austin. We moved into our new townhouse, followed shortly by the birth of our daughter, Deborah Elizabeth, on October 8, 1969. Deb was born with a massive amount of dark hair. She was beautiful!
Meteorologist at KDFW
Ten years later, I would have the opportunity to work with some friends at Dallas’ KDFW-TV, the CBS affiliate at that time. Even though I was teaching, I provided supplemental materials . . . . or as they would say today . . . added “color” to the weather forecasts. The News Director took a real liking to me and offered me a job being the weekend weather man! I snapped it up and practiced forecasting with mentors Mike Burger and Ron Jackson. These seasoned Channel 4 weather experts helped me understand DFW Weather. Mike and Ron were wonderful guys, and willing to help me learn “the weather business.”
Then, I had my big chance! I was given the opportunity to broadcast the weather for an entire weekend by myself. I went in to the station early that Saturday morning, pulled up the weather data from the 1980’s computer, and immediately crashed the program. I called everyone for help, but there was no one who could resolve the issues until Monday. I was left having to provide weather forecasts without a supporting computer system for data or graphics. This was the CBS weather forecast in the nation’s fifth largest media market!
My first broadcast was at the noon news hour. I rushed out and found maps of Texas and the Metroplex. I pinned these up on the studio wall, and with a black marker, I drew the weather and prepared weather data (Highs, Lows, Barometric Pressure, Humidity, etc.) on poster boards. It was makeshift but accurate.
Noon came and the floor director gave the count down for the live broadcast. I acted like nothing was wrong. At the end of the broadcast, I explained to the viewing audience that this was the way weather forecasts were rendered many years before. I pointed out how weather forecasts had advanced with sophisticated data gathering manipulated by the latest computers.
The News Director called me as soon as I got “Off Air.” He asked me what happened.
I told him that I screwed up and crashed the weather computer that morning, but that I was determined to put on a good weather broadcast. He laughed like a wild man on the other end of the phone. He just couldn’t believe I was that creative, and offered me a contract over the phone! He said this was exactly what he was looking for! He told me I reminded him of his high school science teacher. Of course, I was a high school science teacher!
Well, it seems I was not what FOX was looking for. KDFW, the CBS outlet, was soon to be purchased by FOX. All the contracts still pending, including mine, were discarded. FOX brought in lots of new people. Those that remained are pretty much still there today!
I felt bad about losing this weather forecasting opportunity, but looking back on that time, I realize this was a major crossroad in my life. If I had kept the weekend weatherman job, I would never have started building solar cars, nor organized the Solar Car Challenge!
Working for General Rose
I liked working for General James Rose. He was a wonderful friend and true gentleman. He always promised me that he would let me go to Officer Candidate School and become a pilot. This never happened. He was always too pleased with my work running his office. He knew I was a “facilitator.” If he needed something, I would arrange it.
The General loved to fly, but he just didn’t seem to be able to work this into his schedule. He called upon me to “facilitate” this, so I would ask pilots if they would let the General fly their mission. The pilots always got something great in return, and I kept the General happy. On one of the missions, we were flying into Randolph Air Force Base. The pilot was sitting in the back of the plane with me. I felt his hand creep on top of my arm and heard him say: “We’re coming in short of the runway.”
We landed bouncing around about 100 yards short of the runway. I looked down realizing I had just peed my pants, but we were safe and little damage was done. The cockpit door slammed open showing the General in all his glory. He walked up to me, put his arm around my shoulder and said: “Well, son, we cheated death again!”
This was not my first crash. The General arranged for me to learn how to fly through one of his friends doing special training at Keesler AFB. We were flying a T-38, and coming in for a landing when a pilot-trainee decided to fly low over the base. He was flying perpendicular to the runway! To avoid hitting this trainee’s plane, I rolled my wings to the right. Unfortunately out plane was too close to the ground. I cart-wheeled the length of the runway. When we finally came to a stop, the plane had no tail and the wings had been sheared off. We walked away with a few bruises and scratches, but we were alive.
Of course, there was the problem about the crashed T-38, but great effort was made to hush everything up to protect all the parties involved.
Townhouse on Manor Road
Joy and I set up housekeeping in a new Town House located on Manor Drive in Austin, Texas. These were the Walnut Creek Apartments. We had a great two story condo with two bedrooms and a private patio. The baby would arrive soon and we would be ready.
I was disappointed our little private patio had no plants! The town house needed some color . . . . some pizzazz! Of course, there was another new set of apartments going up across the street, and the nursery had just delivered a fresh order of plants. I decided Joy and I needed to “borrow” a few of these plants for our patio. She was not thrilled with the idea, but I convinced her we would take good care of them, and they would brighten our life. We, of course, couldn’t afford to buy plants!
The sight of a very pregnant woman crossing the road carrying plants must have been something to behold. We definitely stopped traffic. I am not so very proud that we did this, but the adventure was great! We now had beautiful purple-blooming sage bushes in our little patio.
Then, we received the surprise of a lifetime: Dave Vinson, my Best Man, sent us a pure bred cocker spaniel. We named him W.P. Buffington of Walnut Creek. The W.P was for wet penis which was an apt description for the dog; the “Walnut Creek” title was based on our living along Walnut Creek. That was to be his official registered name.
Buffy often took care of his business in our little enclosed patio, particularly at night. I remember letting him out about 1:00 AM and heard this horrible yelping. I stepped into the patio to find the dog cornered by a skunk. Yelling at the skunk did little to interrupt the scene until I got a broom and started pushing the skunk away, at which point it turned and sprayed me!
Leaving poor Buffy outside, I ducked into the town house and called the Police. They wouldn’t help! The fire department wouldn’t help! I finally was able to get in-touch with the apartment security officer who nonchalantly sent over two security guards. Neither of these guys had any interest in going out there to face the skunk.
I finally “encouraged” one of them to go outside. He threatened to shoot the skunk with his 45-calibre weapon. I stopped him because the apartment building’s air conditioning intake was located off our small patio. I knew a destroyed scent gland would send its foul smell into the building. The officer asked if I had another weapon. I brought out my 22-calibre rifle.
The security guard was trying to get close to the skunk, while at the same time trying to sight down the long barrel of the rifle. He wasn’t paying attention to the skunk which turned and gave him a “royal squirt” of skunk perfume! The security guard seemed to waver in the air, then crashed to the ground in a faint. I got the other security guard to drag the first officer into the apartment. I held off the skunk with my broom while getting squirted again.
The remaining officer was bubbling-over mad at the skunk. He threw open the sliding glass door, aimed his 45-calibre weapon, pulled the trigger, and made mincemeat out of the skunk. The gas bladder ruptured sending the smell into the air conditioning intake. You could see lights coming on throughout the building as the skunk stench reached each apartment!
It was almost dawn now, and my parents were going to be arriving later that morning. The house and everything in it . . . . the drapes . . . . the sofa . . . .the chairs . . . . just about everything was tainted with skunk odor.
The last thing the officers said as they left was that I needed to take the skunk’s body (or what was left of it) to the Austin Health Department and have it tested for rabies. I went out with a dust pan, scraped up what was left of the skunk, and put it in a box. I still remember the view of my wife standing in the front door of the town house with a baby. It was horribly pitiful.
The car just couldn’t go fast enough. I had to drop off the skunk remains and get home as fast as possible to help clean up this horrible situation. People at the Health Department suggested I take a bath in tomato juice.
Of course, while driving home like a mad man, I was pulled over by Austin’s finest. I rolled down my window when the police officer approached the car. I must have been reeking of skunk odor by this time. The officer lowered his head to talk, took one whiff, then turned around sort of gagging, and got back into his car. He immediately drove off.
I headed to the HEB grocery store to buy large cans of tomato juice. I rolled up to the cashier with a cart full of juice. There was a line of three or four people ahead of me. That line just drifted away as people took a whiff of me. I was now immediately opposite the cashier who just took the money and asked me to please leave.
That wonderful town house was not the same for months! We laughed about this many times, but the event has never been forgotten.
Move to Willamette Street
As mentioned earlier, Keith Markley made it possible for us to find a reasonably priced home complete with all the appliances. We moved from our townhouse to our two-story red-carpeted home at 6823 Willamette. It was a huge move up for us!
We were so delighted to have a huge backyard that gradually sloped-down to Walnut Creek. In the Spring, the air would be filled with lightning bugs and the smell of wild onions along the bank of the creek. A huge tree in the backyard provided shade for the kids!
Yes, we were to have another blessed event. Rebecca Leigh would come into this world November 3, 1972. She was a wonderful blessing with a completely different personality than Debbie.
You might say we learned Becca was going to be strong-minded when at the age of three she declared she was going to run away from home. She packed her small suitcase and made her way through the front door. I remember the door closed behind her. We waited for a few anxious minutes, but soon there was a knock at the door. Becca was now telling us she had decided not to leave home.
Wonderful Daughters
I am so proud of my two daughters. They are both strong women who have developed strong values.
As with any children, life was going to be filled with surprises. You sometimes don’t find out about these “surprises” until many years after the event occurred. For instance, I installed an electronic alarm system to both protect my home, and to keep track of my kids!
I now hear wild stories that both daughters were able to defeat the alarm system to go out at night! How could I miss that Becca was even using my car on some of these late night adventures? I guess Fathers always want to think the best of his daughters.
Debbie was a top-notch cheerleader excelling both at Plano Senior High as well as the University of Oklahoma. Her OU Cheer Team won their national cheerleading championship and represented the United States at a competition in Japan.
Debbie is a gifted, creative designer who can take any project and make it spectacular.
She is the Vice-President of Sales & Marketing at Graniti Vicentia. Debbie blossoms with creativity when she gets a chance to install a new Show Room!
Becca is an accomplished Human Resources Specialist who has developed the skills necessary to handle difficult situations at work. She is an HR Manager at Akumin, and is working towards an advanced certification.
Becca also serves as the HR Specialist for the Solar Car Challenge Foundation. She has provided invaluable efforts during team check-in and registration. I have learned to totally rely on her keen sense of responsibility.
Grandson
I have a wonderful grandson who loves video games, basketball, Star Wars, Super Hero movies, and film-making. He is now 17 and has developed into a sensible young man. Events early in his life gave him the opportunity to learn about acting and directing. He even earned the Audience Approval Prize for his leading role in a short film debuted at the NBCUniversal Film Festival.
Parker has enjoyed taking part in the Boy Scouts, and has earned his Eagle Award.
I am very proud of his perseverance to achieve this honor. His participation has helped him grow into a responsible, well-rounded your man.
Parker does have a tendency to break his wrist. His third break occurred at the end of the summer in 2020 resulting in the insertion of pins to stabilize the wrist. Maybe he takes after his Grandpa Daddy (Me) who has broken the following:
- Left Foot – twice
- Left Femur
- Left Clavicle – twice
- Right Clavicle
- Left Arm (broken in three places)
- Back – (four broken bone episodes)
- Ribs (too many to count)
- Concussions
- Groin tear
- MCL and ACL tears – right knee
- Right Hand fingers
- Left Hand small finger