WenSure All

I promised you a little bit about me, so here it is. I was born in a little shack in Greenville TX in 1942. My Dad was in France at the time trying? to teach Germans to respect Texans, and I wasn’t doing much ? just kinda laying? around and goofin? off. ?Course, that is what you do from 0 to 2 years old. I went to live with my grand parents at the age of three. We lived in a little cabin my Grand Dad built. It was kinda secluded ? about a mile back down in the woods. I was 8 years old before I lived in a house with electricity or indoor plumbing.

We were share croppers. Now for you folks that have no idea what a share cropper is, let me enlighten you. The share cropper strikes a deal with the land owner. The land owner furnishes the land to plant on, and the share cropper furnishes everything else. The seed, the farming equipment, all the labor, gasoline plus anything else that might be needed we furnished. When the crop was harvested, we took it to market, sold it, and the land owner got half the money. Great deal ay? That half of what was raised on 40 acres had to last ?till next year at harvest time. Oh, ?bout 800 to 1100 dollars a year.

You ever try to stretch that kinda money out for 12 or 13 months? You learn to save money. When I graduated from high school in 1962, my Grandad worked at the College as a grounds keeper bringing? in $162.00 per month, paid once a month. Ya gotta really stretch it to make it from payday to payday. Yep, I got me some experience! Now my Gramma lived by a very strict set of rules. You never say anything unkind or harsh to anyone. She had a term she used tho, that was so very useful in a lot of situations. Well bless your heart!? That phrase had so many uses. When I came in and told her I had gotten a speeding ticket, she said, “Don’t drive to fast, and they won’t give you no tickets!”

The next time I got a speeding ticket, she just looked at me in that way she had, and said, Yep, ?Well, bless your heart!? which meant ?Ya Moron, I told you to slow down!? Being a very gentle lady, she would have never said that. It would have been rude. Now, if you go out and get burned on some get rich quick scheme or by some foreign company (You know all them folks on the internet ain’t from around these parts, don?t ya), then I?ll feel plumb sorry for ya ? the first time. But, if, after I’ve warned you and you do it again, Well, bless your heart! As ya go through this site, you might just notice that the language is a bit different than yer used to. That’s on purpose, Friends. A very nice gentleman was kind enough to do a review on my web site. He said that, quite frankly, the language irritated him. He did say, however, that he was English.

I told him, “Well now, see. There ya go. You’re operating on the mistaken idea that we in Texas speak English! We speak Texican.” Now Texican is somewhat similar to English, and folks who speak English can understand most of what we say, but it’s a whole different language. Stick with me pardner. Why before you know it, you’ll be speaking Texican as a second language! Ya might even pursue a career as an interpreter fer the Newninted Nations! For a number of years, I was on the road as a Native American artist, flute maker, and recording artist. I?m semi-retired now.

I only work about 60 hours a week. A lot of that time is in research to help my family, (that be you), save some money. Helping each other is a tribal thing that is ingrained in the Native American traditions. Working together is the only way we could stay alive during the hard times. We know that if we work together, we can make it. Welcome home cousin. Take off ya coat, and sit a spell. Stumble It!