1970 Miami Warriors

(click for larger view)



Coach would always tell us: "Practice like you play, men."

We did. We photographed the same way, too.

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Welcome to all visiting who have found this post via AOL or Google search.

You *may* be interested in video of the '71 Regional Championship game.

Milk Break

The darker cows give chocolate milk.

South of Miami, Texas

Big Black Bull

Not a great photo, but couldn't let the alliteration go by.

Took several of him after this one; he was starting to flex his muscles and at first I thought he was just showing off for the camera. Instead, he soon dropped "something" to show me what he thought of me and my photos.

At least he's honest, huh?

I'll spare you those photos.

South of Miami, Texas

Wasps After W.A.S.P.

Here's a cropped part of an acccidental photo I took at my home town's cemetery. I had stopped by the grave of an old friend; he was younger than me, but we rode the bus together for years. His mom and mine were friends, we lived only a few miles apart.

He had no flowers on his stone, so I decided to take some of the extras I had brought along and place on his grave. I usually also pull a few weeds around the stones and there was a particularly stubborn clump of goatheads just under a beautiful praying cherub statue. I moved the statue over and transferred my camera from one hand to the other so I could get my pocketknife out to cut the roots of that horrible sticker-producing weed.

(I hate those things, they're all over, the stickers get on your pants and shoes and when you get out of your car and cut across your lawn you've just started your own goathead patch. We had so many of the ******* things on our football field, the coaches would make us pull them up during our water breaks, we called it "Goathead Bowl" )

About that time, a swarm of yellowjackets/wasps came boiling out of the hole visible at the bottom left of statue in the following picture:

(click for larger view)



We Texans are prone to exaggerate, but I swear there were several thousand extremely angry wasps in the surrounding air in one second. Ok, ok, maybe a hundred, but they WERE P.O.'d.

The rest of the photo is blurred, as are the little yellow bits that are the wasps. Their wings were going ninety miles an hour, but if I'd have had the camera tilted a little bit more, you'd have seen a blurry pic of my fat butt going 100mph, heading in the other direction.

I've been stung before as a youth, by all sorts of bees, scorpions, spiders and such and came out fine. My dad, though, as he got older, became deathly allergic to them. Pop passed on the baldness gene and an often petulant nature to me so I'm just figurin' I should prob. stay away from wasps now that I've gone past the half-century mark.

And momma, if you're reading this from heaven, this is one of those cases a person SHOULD run with a knife in their hand. I'm no cherub, not even close to being a mature angel, but I looked like that (praying) when I got in my pickup and rolled up the windows. I also put 14 slashes in my dashboard with that knife, too, rolling up the window.

Calling All Cows

In case you've forgotten (or more likely, never knew), the National Cowcalling Contest in Miami, Texas is this weekend. (always the first weekend in June). The festivities will kick off tonight with the Frontier Follies ( a show put on by locals), with a barbeque and the cowcalling tomorrow.

Since I last attended, they've added more events, such as a Texas Hold'em tournament, a steak cook-off and several others. It's also when many class reunions are held and my big sister and I went to mine a few years back. (the good thing about reunions is that you get to see many people you haven't seen in years; conversely, the bad thing is you have to see many people you never wanted to see again)

You can read more about it at the official town website.

From the site:

Miami's main event, the National Cow Calling Championships, began in 1949 at the suggestion of "Old Tack" - otherwise known as humorist, columnist, publisher, and conservationist Gene Howe of Amarillo.

Let cow calling introduce you to the prettiest town in Texas. If you think the Panhandle is flat, you're in for a very pleasant surprise. Our canyons, mesas, and tree-lined roads are unforgettable!

My favorite part of the entire weekend was always the Follies; sometimes it was a chore sitting through certain portions of it, but it was always a pleasure to hear a classmate's mother sing; she had a voice like a combination of Patsy Cline and Peggy Lee.

My least favorite part was the Saturday night dance. Oh, I suppose if women with big hair-do's, drunken cowboys and fistfights are your thing.... I used to get a buzz just from all of the excess testosterone in the air, along with copious amounts of hairspray and perfume, never needed any beer.

(I blame country and western dances for depleting the ozone layer)

(To be honest, the first time I ever got drunk was at a Cowcalling, back when I was about 13. Long story, but I didn't drink anything else until I was 18 or so. It still makes me nauseous to think about that night. Did you know you can drink a pint of whiskey and a six pack of beer and then vomit five gallons? One gallon went down the gutter in front of my big sister's house and four gallons went onto her carpet)

The cowcalling part was always a little bit of an embarrassment to me, namely that I was embarrassed for some of the callers. All of the callers, actually. But, if it didn't bother them....

Anyone can call cows...if you can go "Whooooooooooo" as loud and as long as you can, then you too can call cows. (Back when I helped feed cattle, I always just used the truck horn to get them to come feed, but usually not even having to do that. Cows are dumb, but they ain't stupid. They're usually at the gate before you can get it open. I'm the same way when I'M hungry)

Did I ever get up there and participate? Well, no, I'm not that stupid brave. The event is held just after noon, and I never have drank anything before around six in the afternoon.

Actually, I'm fairly sure there's not enough booze in the world to make me get up there.

Arrington Ranch House

Recognize this sign, specifically the angel wings?

If you're a movie buff you've probably recognized it from Cast Away, the 2000 release starring Tom Hanks and Helen Hunt. Hanks plays a FedEx globetrotting troubleshooter who, after a plane crash, is stranded on a small island.

The angel wing motif was the trademark of the artist character who lived at this ranch and who sent and received pkgs. from FedEx. She was a metal sculptor and her husband was in Russia, their relationship a very tiny but interesting detail of the plot.

This is another shot of the gate and the barn where she worked on her pieces.

The house was featured again near the end of the movie, in the scene where Tom Hanks stood on the porch and knocked on the door. When no one answered, he left the package--which had the angel wings on it, and which also was featured throughout another large part of the movie-- and a note saying the package had saved his life.

I don't think anyone was there; it's now a bed and breakfast but there were no cars or other vehicles other than the farm trucks and tractor in front of the barn.

I did take a photo of this new marker:

Why is it that Texas signs look like Texas belt buckles (or vice versa) and are as big, bright and shiny as our womenfolk's hair-dos? Just like the stars, deep in the heart, I guess. I took two shots of this new sign and both had the reflection of a big doofus in them, I haven't yet figured out just what causes that.

At the IMDB Cast Away listing, there are quite a few message threads about this movie; some, like far too many one sees on the 'net, are full of inane comments, but there are other posts that speak of how profoundly the movie affected them (as it did me) or asking questions about the movie such as "where was the island?" as well as "where is the farm house?"

One guy who posted on the IMDB site has a website with some very nice photos including many I did not get, such as the interior of the house, a close-up shot of the note Hanks' character leaves at the end and autographed later by the actor. The note is on Arrington Ranch stationery, by-the-way.

(the site loads slow, even for me with a fairly fast connection; it's also in a "turn the page" style slideshow, a little tricky at first. It's a great site, though, sure worth a look if you're interested in seeing more of this particular bit of movie trivia)

I didn't go on to the intersection where Hanks' character was standing at the end of the film, but I stood in the middle of the dirt road in front of the house and took a couple of shots. The next shot is looking North, back the way I had come from Hwy 60, the turn off being 12 miles or so east of Miami in Hemphill County, another dozen or so miles to the northeast lies the larger town of Canadian.

This is looking South, showing a bit of how the terrain is at that particular spot, gentle rolling hills, great pasture land. We've had twice the normal amount of rain and the fields are fairly green and lush but this day was so hot the moisture was being sucked out of every living thing, including myself.

I'm not for sure what the attraction would be to stay out there; the road is fairly busy, what with a fair amount of oil field activity and even though I'm "oil field trash" and know you have to break some eggs to make an omelet, the unsightly scars left on this beautiful landscape by the fresh caliche roads and well locations, tank batteries and other production equipment pretty much spoils the view and beauty. I could make out the tops of three drilling rigs from the next hill over, so at least this area is benefitting from a robust economy.

Still, the house IS picturesque and has quite a bit of interesting history. It wouldn't be hard to imagine living there a hundred years ago. This shot doesn't do justice to the beautiful southwestern sky as it filled up with enormous thunderheads with tops reaching up to 30-40,000 feet. The rain would be welcome sight, but tornados often come during these exact same conditions and from this direction. I'm sure they have a basement or storm cellar and back when it was built it probably had a root cellar or some underground, cool place to store canned items and smoked and/or salted meat. You couldn't miss it, turn right at the outhouse.

I'm not sure what there would be to DO out there, either. (I kept thinking that getting to sit on the front porch in the shade and snap green beans might have been the highlight of a day back then) I hadn't been out there in a long time, not since I was helping to drill wells back in the late 70's and early 80's, but even without the ugly signs of progress, there's not much to see out there, just those rolling hills broken by some gullies and wash-outs that collectively don't quite deserve the name "canyon". If you wanted to brave the rattlesnakes, you could probably find some wild plums to pick, but I can't think of any other recreation out there unless it would be stealing oil field equipment or rustling cattle.

(Edit to add: I shouldn't be so harsh about there being "nothing to do" out there. To be honest, there's all sorts of wildlife to see such as antelope, deer, raccoons, many species of birds, etc. You'd still need to keep the rattlesnakes in mind if you go traipsin' off down in those gullies )

There's certainly no 7-11's within a dozen miles nor is there cable TV and I'm not so sure about land line phone service. The closest place to buy a beer would be just across the state line in Oklahoma, probably another 30 miles, or back to Pampa, over 30 miles back the other direction.

What one did while staying there would depend upon whom one was staying there with, I suppose. That's probably also the reason, that being not much to do, that old ranch families had so many children.

You can read more about the B&B on the Arrington Ranch website. The Trip Advisor website has a review on the lodgings.

(back when I was roughnecking around the area, I worked with some local boys named "Farrington" and they were always going around adding an "F" to all the Arrington signs. That's been years and years...and years and years ago, the statute of limitations has run out)

The sky was threatening some severe weather, so I headed back into Miami. Not too far out of town a van got right on my tail and wouldn't back off. The speed limits drop severely as you drive into Miami and I certainly wasn't going to get a ticket being the first one in a close convoy not of my making just to satisfy someone's impatience.

He stayed almost on my bumper right into town, right into the 35mph limit and first chance I got I grabbed my camera to take a photograph; I had to turn it around and look at the LCD window in my rear view mirror and still try to keep an eye on the road.

Seeing my camera, he eased off; guess he thought I was doing it to turn him in, and I would've if he'd been more aggressive and not backed off, but I took it because I couldn't believe what sort of truck it was...and you'll prob. have to click the pic. in order to make out the company logo on the front of the delivery van:

If you can't make it out, here's a cropped bit of the original photo above, at the highest resolution.

Yup, was a FedEx truck.

Wonder if that was Tom Hanks driving?

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For those of you who have found this post via a Google search, you *may* be interested in a followup post on the intersection that leads to the ranch house. It was shown at the first of the movie, and a longer scene at the crossroads ended the film.

Cast Away Crossroads

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1/12/09

Interesting article about the history of the house, plus some photos of it and the intersection

In PDF format

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09/16/09

Added a new post about the locations

Cast Away Locations in Google Maps

'71 8-Man Regional Championship

There has been such a demand for me to post the video of the game, I decided I'd cut the excess out, divide the file in half (ten minute limit on uploaded vids) and let the entire world see how good we were.

Well, there's been ONE person wanting it, anyway.

"Good" is subjective, I suppose. It's like that old hound dog my pop used to own; the more years since it died, the better the dog got.

Joegate

No, not a scandal, but a gate my friend Joe made for the entrance to his dad's place.

Old Combine at Sunset

South of Miami, Texas

Cow #189

At my friend's dad's place, just south of Miami.

Old Truck

This is an old Chevy truck parked out on some land my friend's dad leases and on which he runs a small cow/calf operation. Other than the peeling paint, the old truck looks to be in good shape, with most of the windows intact.

A little metal work, a dab of putty, do what you could w/ the chrome bits, and a heckuva lot of sanding and it'd be ready to paint...

-sigh- Who am I kidding?

Pretty old truck, though.



I wouldn't want to go traipsin' off around there in a another month or so.

That looks snakey as hell to me.

Whomping Willow

Not for sure what sort of tree this is, but it reminded me of the Whomping Willow in the Harry Potter movies/books.

I want to go back down there at a different time of day and take some more photos; the sun was just too low on the horizon to get good detail.

Hay! (it's cheaper than corn)

A couple of the cows on my friend's place. They look to be some sort of Hereford-Charolais cross with maybe some Simmental in them, too.




The hay was in those huge round bales and my friend's dad has some "corrals" to put around the hay in order to keep the cattle (and horse) from trampling on it.His dad uses these corrals most of the time, but rolls out a bail now and then along the ground.

I commented on it, wondering why he was putting one bale in the enclosure, but putting another on the ground.

He said his pop does that because the little calves like to lie on the hay.

Out to Pasture

Went down to Miami to watch the Pro Bowl w/ my pal and we went to put out some hay for his dad's cows and their calves. This is his dad's old work horse, now retired. (as is his dad)

Friendly old thing, he let me rub on him and he sniffed out the sugar cube in my pocket.

He sure enjoyed the hay we put out for him. (and the cows and calves)

Ford Frontal Photo

Ford, the Mustang

Ford, the Mustang

I'm sure the millions thousands hundreds dozens of several people who read this blog will remember this horse in my nonsensical post "Horse Laughs".

I drove back down to Miami yesterday, visited with some old friends while waiting on another one to get home from work. I was wanting to ask him who owned this horse, which was, at the time of my first photos, pastured across the road from his house. I pulled into his driveway, and saw this horse in what I knew to be my friend's pasture.

My old friend drove up just then, and was glad to see me, and loved the photos of his horse I had taken and printed off. I fed him (the horse) some sugar cubes and some lettuce I had brought down just for him and my friend told me the story behind the animal.

He had bought the horse for $650 from a friend of a friend, and showed me some documentation that came with the purchase. The wild mustang (hence the name "Ford") was about three years old when he was captured in Idaho on federal land by the BLM and then was taken to the Kansas state penitentiary and "broken" by inmates, then put up for adoption. He's a gelding, but is "proud cut". (Google that, I don't wanna explain it) He's now six years old.

I'm sorry I didn't get more details to the horse's story, but for some reason the Chinese beer I was drinking didn't allow for much information retention. It also got dark before I realized I hadn't taken any new photos. I also thought it was VERY dark down there, much darker than it is usually, then I realized I still had my sunglasses on.

The Great Flood of '76

Red Deer Creek, circa 1976.

Horse Laughs

I had been driving for a couple of hours and had consumed about two liters of water. Do I need to draw you a picture? Something had to be done. Quickly.

I went down a deserted road on the outskirts of town and pulled off behind a small stand of mesquite trees and got out. I had no more got started when I heard a deep voice say:

"Y'know, if you were in the city limits that'd be indecent exposure, I'm only eight years old...yuk yuk yuk."

I turned around and saw THIS!



Frightened, I staggered backwards against my truck.

"Better zip 'er up there, Wilbur." said the horse with an insultive nicker.



"Uh, wasn't quite done here, pal." I retorted.

Quicker than you could flick your tail came the rejoinder:

"Potty blush?" smirked the wise-cracking horse.

"OK Bashful...I'll turn my head, water that yucca while yer at it."



We chatted a while, then I told him I wanted to take some photos of him for my friend Barb who loves horses. He agreed, but then did some bad accents "N' Ham-shya", some snide cracks about Yankee liberals being the real horse's as...well, let's just say he was smarmy. Totally uncalled for.

He then started out on some darned life history thing, frankly it was quite boring and really unbelieveable, some blathering boasts about "Apaloosa/Arabian blood", quarterhorse this, quarterhorse that and some BS about a great great great grandfather coming in second at the Preakness, but you know... I've heard it all on the 'net, and besides, I know how Texans are about braggin', especially when he started talkin' smack about being bigger/ better/stronger/faster and much much prettier than Trigger or Silver.



I asked him if he was that rare Polka-Dot breed but he ignored me.

"Say," asked the horse. "Heard any good horse jokes lately?"



I'm clever and quick-witted, too.

"Well..."I said "A horse walks into a bar..."

" 'Why the long face?' " came the rude interruption.

He kept rubbin' it in:

" Yeah, first time I heard THAT one I was a colt, sheesh."

He snickered and stuck out his tongue. Like I said, rude.



"Heard this one?" he asked.

"A cowboy goes into a bar, has a beer, walks outside and finds his horse has been stolen. He walks back into the bar, fires his gun through the ceiling. "Which one of you mothers stole my hoss?" he yells. No one answers. "All right, I’m gonna have one more beer and if my hoss ain’t outside by the time I finish, I’m gonna do what I dun in Texas." He drinks another beer, walks outside, and his horse is back. So he gets on it and gets ready to ride out of town. The bartender walks out of the bar and asks, "Say pardner, what happened in Texas?" The cowboy turns to him, and says, 'I had to walk home.' "

"No." I told him "Wished the hell I hadn't heard it, either."

Nonplussed and with a few shakes of his ears and a swish of his tail to shoo the flies, he went on in rapid fire:



What does it mean if you find a horse shoe?
Some poor horse is walking around in his socks.
*****
What did one horse say to the other horse?
The pace is familiar but I can't remember the mane.
*****
What are the only animals to sleep with their shoes on?
A horse, of course!
*****
How many horses have three legs?
They all do!
*****
What breeds of horses can jump higher than a house?
All breeds. Houses don't jump.
*****
A man rode into town on June 3rd, stayed a week, and rode out on June 3rd. How is this possible?
His horse's name was June 3rd.
*****
How do you make a small fortune in the horse industry?
Start with a large fortune.
*****
What animal has more "hands" than feet?
Why, a horse, of course!
*****
What is the best type of story to tell a runaway horse?
A tale of WHOA!
*****
How long should a horse's legs be?
Long enough to reach the ground.
*****
When do vampires like horse racing?
When it's neck and neck.
*****
Where do horses stay in a hotel?
In the bridle suite.
*****
What did the waiter say to the horse?
I can't take your order. That's not my stable.
*****
What's the quickest way to mail a little horse?
Use the Pony Express.

Seriously, they weren't all that funny to ME, but he sure was laughin' at his own dumb jokes.



"Henny Youngman you ain't." I snorted.

I kept on the attack.

"What's with the peculiar laugh? Or is that your 'braying jackass' imitation?"

"Keep your day job." I advised.

And once again, he was rude.

Sorry, but I just don't get that sort of comedy.

Bucolic Bovine Blog Bonanza

Drove around Miami for a little bit yesterday (Aug 09) and out near the football field I saw some cows and calves trying to rest in the shade. The heat was ferocious and they didn't like me disturbing them.

Some got up and moved away, but I wanted to take a pic of this little guy:



He looked at me warily as I slowly moved closer to get a better shot; I used some optical zoom but managed to cut off a bit of what could've been a pretty decent photograph. I think I cut off a roast, but wished I had cut off a T-Bone. Literally. Mmmmmm...

Just kidding. He was just too cute.



I moved a little closer, and the other two calves that were nearby went back to the one, as if to tell it "C'mon, let's get outta here!"



The two left, but the single stayed behind, scared a little bit, but curious enough to wonder what I was doing.

Curved Cottonwood Copse

(click any pic for larger view)

I've always loved this little stand of cottonwood trees at the "Five-Mile Park" east of Miami; they're bent and bowed, but have managed to remain upright in the soft sandy soil along Red Deer Creek.



These two are like an old married couple; tired of trying to fight the breeze, they've just decided to lean the same way and -ahem- sway together. -grin-

The trees are at an angle where someone--someone much younger than me--could climb their way up to the top.

And here's my ubiquitous, artsy, vertigo-arousing shot:

I call it: "Bark up the long tree"



And, I got another "Sun Through Cottonwoods" shot, very nearly the same as the other.



Both are equally bad, I think.