Hacked once again....

I have been more than a little ill. I took off five working days and emailed nobody. Yet, several of my friends received emails from me that contained a virus. Folks, I have been bedridden. I have had a bad case of strep-throat, and it has been compounded by a case of the flu. This whole electronic media thing is getting out of hand, but, ya cannot live with it, and you cannot live without it. I hope you all have a blessed holiday season.

PEACE!

CHRISTMAS at the Gas Station

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through. Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger "I see you're busy, I'll just go." "Not without something hot in your belly." George said. He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh." Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front.. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead. "You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away. "But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good." George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought. George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on. "Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway. As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me." George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease. "Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance." The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio. He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area." George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain." George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked. "None for me," said the officer.. "Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time. The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before. "That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer. "Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt." The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!" The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now." He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away." George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week." George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can." He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things" George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out." The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer." "Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said. George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer. "Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?" "GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man. Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran." George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other. "That guy work here?" the wounded cop continued. "Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job." The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?" Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything." "Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems." George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day." The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you." "And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need." George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours." The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier. "And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family." The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good." "Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after." George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?" "I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?" "Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby." The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor. The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man." George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man. "Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again." The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned." George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room. "You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas." George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus" This story is better than any greeting card.MERRY CHRISTMAS AND GOD BLESS!

More grandbabies......OH MY

The beautiful girl to the left is my grand-daughter Aurora, the boy in the center is Cheyenne, the young woman to his left is his mommy, Crystal, and his daddy, Nick, is in the back ground. The two youngsters and their brother Ashton were at the park last Autumn playing at the Monkey Tree. This was the beginning of their mommy and daddy starting to get along better during their divorce. Things are much calmer now.

PEACE!

Ashton owns his Paw Paw!

This kid owns me, as does his brother, and sister. He is more than a handful, but he is well worth the effort.

PEACE!

My Paw Paw

Very few people have had the influence on me in my life as did Virgil Lance. Even though he is responsible for my being able to play guitar like I do, more importantly, he is responsible for my sense of right and wrong. My grand father was not just a good man, he was a great man, and yes, he and my grandmother, Artie Mae Lance (the best woman to ever draw breath) are in Heaven right now preparing a place for me and my family. I miss them so much.

Peace!

Don't send thanks, send money.......

My three year old grandson, Ashton, has been very sick. He would not eat anything yesterday, just sat around, drank a bit of water, and sported a high fever. Today, he was a bit better. He actually hummed a bit, and snuck up behind Paw Paw (me) and stole my popcorn. I was sitting at this desk, dabbling with this computer, and he took most of my popcorn. Not only that, he took most of Nanna's (his grandmother) popcorn too. Well, I went ahead and asked his daddy, my son Nick, to bring me some cheese and mustard to go with the crackers that had mysteriously been left on my desk. Hey, don't knock it, if it works for my cousin Billy Bob in his movie Slingblade (I like mustard with mah taters) then it works okay for me.

While sitting here eating cheese on top of crackers, with a dab of mustard on top of the cheese, I got to reflecting how pretty it is here in the Arbuckle Mountains. I then remembered the only good photo I took out of about three hundred, and there it is, at the top of this page. So the next time you are sitting there eating mustard on cheese on crackers, and get that warm glow inside from remembering this public service I performed for you, DON'T SEND THANKS, SEND MONEY.....

PEACE OUT Y'ALL !

Word pictures.....

I am probably gonna catch some hell from our local Sheriff's Office over this post. You see, it started last evening. My ex-daughter in-law, (who is still like one of my own children) got stopped by one of the local reserve deputies. Heavy emphasis on "reserve", like in no CLEET certification. Petite, blond, female deputy follows my daughter inlaw from the corner of Highway 177 and Main street in Sulphur, to the Sonic Drive In at Sulphur, gets out of her car, and then walks up behind Sissy's car, and stands there for a few minutes and then walks up to the driver side window on Sissy's car. She claimed to have stopped my daughter in-law and three grand kids for not having a current tag on the 1980 Thunderbird my daughter in-law, it expired two months ago. The big problem with the deputy's claim as to the reason for the stop is, I went and looked at the tag, you cannot make out the year of the tag due to the way it is placed on the back of the car, under the bumper. The deputy stopped the car because it is old, and then called in a big, fat, good ol' boy deputy to back her up. They harassed my daughter in-law a bit more, threatened to put her in jail, and then told her the only reason they would not put her in jail is because she had her children with her.

Here is the rub...I spent the better part of my adult life as a cop. I worked traffic for a couple of decades. In Oklahoma, you can impound a vehicle for failure to pay all taxes due the state, but you cannot put the driver in jail for an expired tag. I am so damned tired of a bunch of thugs hiding behind a badge and a gun thinking they can just run rough shod over who actually pays their wages.

Well, I have to get up at four in the morning for a couple of days, to keep Sissy from driving her car to work. She gets paid on Tuesday, and then will get her car tagged properly. Am I angry with Sissy? Hell no, I am very proud of her. She has worked hard at turning her life around and making something of herself. Am I mad at the deputies? Hey, they will be looking for a job in another ten months......

PEACE OUT Y'ALL !

This is a gentle reminder that we are still a movie company, here at Ghost Shield. Right now we are producing two audio albums, (one music, one comedy) and possibly a video for one of the singles on the upcoming music album. The initial performer on the album is me. Yes, I actually do sing, even though I claim I do not. On our radio show, our numerous listeners got to hear some of my guitar work. Well, a lot more of that is coming your way, as soon as we are finished setting up the recording studio. Lots to do, and no real time to do it. We are having to catch time when we can. We have so many projects in the works, that the old adage, "Too many cooks spoils the broth", almost applies. Well, I will try not to be gone from my blog for another three weeks. I need to post on here daily, but......

PEACE OUT Y'ALL!