A Lost Link Recovered

I am indebted to my dear friend Anne.

Yesterday, I apologized on Facebook to folks for posting an incorrect link to access my book, “Bitter or Better”. The book was initially printed by Tate Publishing Company in Mustang, OK in 2015.

I initially reached out to Tate Publishing Company to inquire if they’d have an interest in my book “More Than Enough”.

I was disappointed to find that most new writers finance the publication of their books until they create a following of several thousand people who create a demand for their writing. Since I didn’t have a following, there was no demand.

After submitting my book proposal to Tate Publishing Company, I talked on the phone to Richard Tate, the founder of the company.

I ask a favor of him. Would you read the book from cover to cover and let me know if you think the book is worthy of publishing?

When I went to visit him in person, he was very complimentary of my writing ability. I’m certain that being complimentary was part of the job requirement and he excelled.

He told me exactly what I wanted to hear. His kind words put me on a level playing field with a hummingbird discovering nectar for the first time. I was eager for my books to be published.

In fact, not only did I pay to have “More Than Enough” published, I also chose to have Tate publish “Bitter or Better” as well.

My experience fell short of my expectations. Long story short, they promised much and provided little.

I placed several book orders with the company for copies of my books. Would you believe, at one point, I waited over nine months for books to be delivered?

Of course, they were in the middle of a mess at the time and I didn’t know it.

Within two years of my beginning the publishing process with Tate Publishing, Richard (founder) and Ryan Tate (CEO) were charged with several felony counts related to fraudulent business practices while operating Tate Publishing.

In December 2019, both father and son, the former founder and CEO, pleaded no contest to 44 criminal charges, including embezzlement, attempted extortion, conspiracy, and, racketeering.

Obviously, with the publishing company closed, I was out of the book business.

Anne Boykin, who was a friend of Ronnie’s while he was at Texas A&M, came to the rescue. She knows her way around the world of books and suggested I self-publish through Amazon.

I have the skill set to turn a computer on and off, but that is the extent of my knowledge. Getting a book ready for printing was beyond my skill set.

However, I do have the gift of gab. I won’t suggest that I came across like Tom Sawyer charging his friends for the privilege of painting his aunt’s fence, but Anne did come to my rescue. Out of a heart filled with kindness, she republished both of my books through Amazon.

Somehow in the process of Tate Publishing having also made my books available through Amazon when they were still in business, soon after getting set up on Amazon, the new publications didn’t appear in searches for persons wanting my books.

So, Anne has now come to my rescue a second time. She provided me the link to access Bitter or Better. I am grateful.

The link is: https://a.co/haMRzeJ

All My Best

Don

The Importance of Family

It has been several weeks since I’ve had an opportunity to visit my mother’s youngest sister. She is the only remaining member of my mother’s birth family.

Her need for 24-hour awake care and supervision to ensure safety and well-being necessitated her need for placement in a memory care facility. I was a little anxious concerning the visit.

The first time I visited my mother in a similar setting for the same reasons, she didn’t remember me. I’ll never forget how painfully awkward it felt when Mother seemingly had no awareness of my identity.

At some level, I feared the same might be true with my aunt. Much to my relief, when I entered the open living area where she was seated, she called me by name and expressed how good it was to see me.

She is receiving care in a small facility, and seemingly most of the residents were present in the open living area. The lady in charge suggested that our visit might be more enjoyable if we went to the second living area. There was no one else in that room.

The visit with my aunt Trula was delightful because we talked non-stop about the enjoyment we’ve experienced across the years from being part of a closeknit loving family.

During our visit yesterday, my aunt asked several times how my parents were doing? I told her they were having a wonderful time in Heaven visiting with my brother and other family members.

She was good with that. I reminded her that she and I were the only older people from our family still on this side of eternity, but that we both still needed to be here because we had many more enjoyable times ahead.

I did tell her tongue in cheek, that if she had any family secrets to share, now would be a good time to tell me the rest of the story.

Throughout the visit, there was playful banter between us. Honestly, she was having a cognitively good day.

Together, I followed her lead in traveling down memory lane and recalling so much that has enriched both our lives.

Our family’s primary rule had to do with the importance of loving one another. Nothing ever preempted any of us from doing that.

In fact, my aunt articulated it well yesterday when she said: “Nothing is more important than family. I’m thankful that has always been true of our family. I know many people where that is not the case.”

I am thankful that my aunt was right. Our family is intact with a bond of love.

All The Best!
Don

The gift of friendship

Several years ago, I met Steve Hiller and Linda Gacsko at a National League of Family meeting in Washington, D.C. Both had attended a workshop I conducted on ambiguous grief. Steve mentioned in passing that he and Linda were making a documentary on the MIA issue related to families, and that they would like to interview me in the future.

Steve lives in Highland Park, Illinois, the site of the Fourth of July parade massacre earlier this month. Linda lives in Los Angeles. The two business partners have worked together for years.

This past Sunday, I received a text from Steve on Messenger. He wrote: “Hi..not sure if you got my email…we just finished our interview in DC with Colleen and heading west. We would love to pass through your area and finally make you a part of our film. We are eventually aiming for Los Angeles, but we would be happy to go the southern route if you’re around and available.

I met Colleen Shine through the League of Families several years ago. She was on the committee that initially invited me to lead a workshop on ambiguous grief and subsequently presented me with the same opportunity a couple of other times.

Colleen is the daughter of Lt. Col. Anthony C. Shine, USAF (Missing in Action from 1972-1996) She is one of the most gifted and talented young people that I’ve met.

She comes across as knowledgeable, professional, and committed to the fullest possible accounting of those listed as MIA. In addition, her insight from being the daughter of an MIA adds an important perspective.

Her background includes extensive television experience including the most recognized forums for news across the nation and beyond. She is a seasoned professional and is no stranger to news broadcasting.

It goes without saying, but I’ll include the disclaimer as a courtesy just to keep the record straight. I am not an expert on anything.

So, why would two people drive almost non-stop from Virginia to Austin to interview me for a documentary? What could I possibly share with them that they couldn’t access from any number of other people in closer proximity?

I felt both honored and humbled. I didn’t know what to expect, but the last thing I expected was how skillfully and professionally they made me feel comfortable and at ease in answering their questions.

Linda had invested the time to carefully read Bitter Or Better, A Personal Walk Through Grief. Reportedly, Steve has also done the same since he has recommended the book to others.

My time with them yesterday afternoon was most enjoyable. I felt as though I was visiting with old friends rather than people with whom I only have a surface relationship. Actually, after yesterday, you can scratch the comment about surface relationships. I now think of Steve and Linda as friends and look forward to seeing them again.

Their skill set in gleaning the stories of families whose lives have been abruptly and forever altered by the face of war is outstanding. I applaud their work and am honored to be included.

All My Best!

Don

Family Fun

The VRBO home where we are staying in Broken Bow is quiet this morning. I’m sitting outside wondering how it can be so refreshingly cool following a day when the heat index was dangerously high.

Of course, the younger folks managed to go kayaking yesterday morning and headed elsewhere for an outdoor activity yesterday afternoon. I was invited to both activities but chose to decline. My brother and I managed to get in a long walk early yesterday morning.

Before day’s end, I fell half a mile short of my 5-mile-a-day minimum. Knowing that I was not quite there yet, I had headed out late morning to complete my walk.

I was not yet out of sight5 when I heard the General calling my name with the mandate to “Come here!” She is a no-nonsense kind of person and when she told me to go back inside the house because it was too hot to be out walking, I didn’t offer a rebuttal. I knew she was right. Of course, she’s always right.

Last night a decision was made to return to Broken Bow during the same time frame next year. It is a seven-hour drive for us, but the accommodations are fantastic and there are a lot of activities for grandkids to do in the area.

The shrimp boil late yesterday with all the fixings for the evening meal was delicious. Truth be said, all of the meals were exceptional and everything was home-cooked.

More importantly, our extended family enjoys sharing time together and the younger grandkids and the older grandkids have a lot of shared fun together.

Actually, the posted picture was too good to pass up. It actually all was taking place when it appeared to be a Kodak moment. For this picture, we added the two guys on either end.

All My Best!
Don

The Joy Of Shared Time

Yesterday we drove from Cat Spring to Broken Bow, OK, to meet my brother and his family. Craig’s family traveled along with us. In fact, Craig drove our car. I didn’t even have to stay awake, but I did.

This is the third year (we skipped 2020 due to COVID) for a family reunion north of the Red River. It is the only time that our kids and grandkids have an opportunity to visit with Larry’s kid’s and grandkids.

The first reunion took place in Broken Bow in July 2019. We skipped the following year and resumed the family gathering last year.

For the Texas contingent, the only downside to Broken Bow is the distance. That may not be quite right. It is the stress of freeway driving.

This year traveling from Cat Spring worked so much better because it was a backroad’s Texas experience for the vast majority of the way. We were only on an Interstate highway for a few miles. The rest was backroads.

We didn’t visit late into the night yesterday. I went to bed at 10:30; my normal bedtime. My brother and I surfaced in the living area this morning about 6:10 a.m.

Larry is a walking genius. He figured out how to operate the complicated coffee maker. I would have never figured it out without relying on YouTube. We then settled for conversation and coffee drinking in the outdoor living area.

The outdoor setting is picturesque. The same could be said of the entire home. By 7:30 to 8:00, the house was a flurry of activity. While we were enjoying breakfast, Larry looked at me and asked: “Is there a reason you have your shirt on inside-out?”

Before I could answer, Larry’s son-in-law said: “It must be in the dna.”
Recently, Larry went to lunch with him. When they returned to Matt’s office, he told Larry he had his shirt on inside-out. Larry asked: “Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” He said he didn’t want to embarrass him.

Following breakfast this morning, the younger crew headed to the lake for boating. Larry and I were content to go for a walk. Thankfully, this time Larry remained upright. The first year he fell on his face and instantly looked like he had been on the losing end of a bar brawl. He made me promised not to tell that he had fallen.

I gave my word, so I didn’t. Everyone we passed on the trail asked: “Did you fall?” I bit my tongue and refrained from saying, “No, he enjoys beating himself in the head. Of course, he fell.”

By the time we got back to our place of lodging, his fall was my fault. He was keeping up with me and I walk too fast. Today our walk worked out great. We both stayed upright and enjoyed the time together.

Currently, the house is almost filled with the sound of silence. The boating crew is still gone, but soon they will be back. The house will soon be filled with laughter and shared stories from long ago. I’m glad we are sharing this time together.

All My Best,
Don

Church Youth Groups

I’ve been working this week from my son’s home in Cat Spring. It is close to a children’s home I wanted to visit. In addition, today our extended family is headed for a long weekend with my brother’s family in Broken Bow, OK.

Last night the youth group from church came to my son’s for a swimming party. I didn’t crash the party and get in the pool, but I did enjoy the hotdogs.

At one time, I counted 21 kids in the pool. It seemed to be more about water basketball than swimming. The vast majority seemed content just to be in cool water at the end of a very hot day. They were also engaged in conversation.

What I didn’t expect was the memories that surfaced in my head from my adolescence related to youth group activities at church.

My teenage years were a lifetime ago, but seeing the group gathered in the pool was a trigger to recall memories.

Let me say upfront that our youth group never had a pool party. In fact, swimming was on the schedule for every summer youth camp I attended, There was a designated time for boys and a time for girls, but they were always different.

Whether that continues to be the expectation at summer church camp, I don’t know. Personally, I thought the pool party last night that included both boys and girls was very appropriate.

Adolescence, hormones and swimming parties are not the formula for disaster. In looking back on some of the “Don’ts” presented us at church came from well-intentioned people who thought they were looking our for our best interests. That didn’t make them right.

Instead of a pool party, we most often stayed after church on Sunday night to play volleyball in the church parking lot. I always found the time enjoyable even if my prowess in volleyball wasn’t much better than in football, baseball or basketball. Somehow with volleyball, everyone seemed more on a level playing field, and a person’s skillset didn’t matter as long as they kept the ball in the air.

With few exceptions, the kids that I went to church with were also kids I went to school with. Somehow the extra church connection seemed to cement a forever friendship. I have a number of Facebook friends today who also stayed after church to play volleyball.

Memories of my peer group from long ago that surfaced while observing the group from last night made me wish for a moment that I could be a kid again. This morning, not so much.

All My Best!
Don

Tenacity Pays Off

I’ve heard it said that delayed gratification is a sign of maturity. If that’s true, my youngest grandson is an old man in a child’s body. For the past couple of years, he has been fixated on restoring a previously heavily used go-cart. I started to write “junk yard ready,” but that might have gotten me into trouble with Jake or his mother.

There may have been a method to his mother’s madness. She may have known that the chances were slim-to-none that Jake would ever get the thing running. After all, it is improbable that you will get hurt on a go-cart that is primarily a stationary object.

On second thought, I’m sure none of that is true. Jake’s mother is pretty analytical when it comes to repairing washing machines or taking a truck door apart and resetting the electric window device, and getting the window back in the right track.

I’m not making this up. She really did both of those things. Craig has quite an assortment of tools. I’ve often wondered why he has all those tools? Maybe he bought them for Becky and Jake to use.

When it comes to working on his go-cart, Jake has been like a dog chewing on the bone. His resolve may have stemmed from watching any of the four rescue dogs that make a home with them. Dogs like to chew on bones for a whole number of reasons. Reportedly, “They love chewing on them because it provides mental stimulation, cleans plaque from their teeth (while massaging their gums), and it’s a good jaw muscle exercise.

On the fourth of July, Jake was grinning from ear to ear. Even though I am hearing impaired and had forgotten to pack my hearing aids, I could hear the sound of the go-cart circling the track around the pond on their property.

I guess it really is true, if at first you don’t succeed, try try again. I’m really proud of the young grease monkey.

All My Best!
Don

The Importance of Freedom

What is freedom? How would you define it? Fifty-five years ago, Andy Williams recorded the song “Born Free” and the lyrics periodically surface inside my head. Do you remember the words?

“Born Free, as free as the wind blows
As free as the grass grows
Born free to follow your heart

“Live free and beauty surrounds you
The world still astounds you
Each time you look at a star

“Stay free, where no walls divide you
You’re free as the roaring tide
So there’s no need to hide

“Born free, and life is worth living
But only worth living
‘Cause you’re born free”

At some level, freedom is an experience that expresses itself through unlimited opportunity? I don’t know anyone who doesn’t desire freedom. It is a universal need that we all share.

This same is true for our dog Snickers. If you want to disturb a sense of tranquility, try confining Snickers to one room in our home while you are visiting with people in another part of the house. Some of you are thinking, “Why would you want to do that? I won’t bother to answer, but I guarantee you that if Snickers wants out, he will bark incessantly until you give in and open the door.

I’m talking about an old rescue dog that is very much like me. He is blind and mostly can’t hear, but he is loveable. When he first came to live with us a little over three years ago, he didn’t bark for the first several days. I remember breathing a sigh of relief when he finally found his voice and could express himself.

Don’t we all want that? Don’t we all want the ability to articulate our needs and wishes and have a seat at the table? Without that privilege, we don’t have the sense that we belong. Without that freedom, we don’t sense that we are important. Long story short – We don’t have the sense that we matter.

Isn’t the greatest longing of the human heart, a desire to be free?
Isn’t the experience of freedom or the need for freedom a longing that we all share? It is universally true. It is true of my dog. It is true of me.

Let me preface my next comment by acknowledging up front, that I’m mixing apples and oranges here, but on a feeling level what I’m sharing is true for me. It may be true for you as well.

Freedom – How does it feel to forfeit freedom even temporarily?
How does it feel to forfeit freedom even when reportedly it is for your own good?

Early in the pandemic, it was almost with a sense of disbelief that I watched how quickly, in the face of a looming pandemic, our government had the power to shut down schools, close businesses, close churches, close daycare centers, eliminate recreational activities from your calendar, close places to eat and eliminate things to do along with prohibiting any gatherings including more than 10 people. In the space of just three or four days, it was a done deal.

I’m not suggesting that the action wasn’t justified or even needed, but the feelings associated with that experience weren’t feel-good experiences. At least that is true of my perception.

Overnight we became aware of just how quickly governmental officials at the local, county, state, and national levels became health experts and went to great lengths to protect us from ourselves.

Freedom – How does it feel not to have it or to find oneself in harm’s way to defend it or attain it? Perhaps, because I have never been in the midst of war or in a set of circumstances that was potentially life-threatening, I can’t fully comprehend the full range of emotions that war orchestrates.

I know my dad never fully set aside the ghosts from the experiences he endured in WWII. I have a friend whose plane went down in Vietnam. He spent several days in the jungle before he was recovered. His wife tells me that although he won’t talk about the experience, he still has nightmares associated with it. That was well over fifty-five years ago. Interestingly, he has never mentioned it to me.

In his book, Man’s Search for Meaning, Viktor Frankl reflects on his experience as a prisoner in a Nazi war camp. At one point, he tells of the Allies coming to liberate Dachau. When the inmates were released, some of them walked out into the bright sun, blinked hard, looked around nervously, and then turned to re-enter the place of death.

Frankl writes: “So shocking was freedom and so accustomed were they to their bondage, they didn’t know what to do with the capacity of freedom”.

Scripture has a lot to say about freedom. In fact, the reality is that we will never be free until we discover the gift of freedom that only God can provide. Christ said to those following him: “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples and you will know the truth and the truth will make you free.”

Isn’t it true that independence without the guiding hand of God generally gravitates toward vested interest and a “me-first” attitude? You’d have to be cognitively impaired to look at the Scripture highlighting the importance of loving God and loving our neighbor to think vested interest is what God had in mind.

All The Best!
Don

Hate Dresses Well To Please The Buyer

Back in the mid-1980s, our family took a road trip through Arkansas and Missouri. The two things I remember about the trip to Branson were the long lines of vehicles attempting to get through town, and the quality of the evening entertainment.  

At the end of the first night’s performance, someone sang Lee Greenwood’s song: “God Bless the USA.”  Who knows, it may have been Greenwood himself?  I don’t remember.  

What I do remember is the response of the crowd.  It was almost as though a switch had been flipped and a current of patriotic energy and enthusiasm captivated the hearts of everyone present.  The sense of patriotism was contagious.  Long before the song ended, everyone was standing.  It was an electrifying evening.
 
I guess you could say Greenwood’s song carried a double punch.  It is also a song with two names.  It is known both as “God Bless the USA” and “Proud To Be An American”.  Perhaps the two concepts go hand-in-hand.

I suspect that you, like me, long to experience that kind of collective spirit among the people of our nation again.  We live in a day where discord and hostility is found in almost every dimension of our lives.

Many operate on the notion, if your opinion differs from mine, or mine differs from yours, we are at odd purposes. The mantra of our day is simply: “If you disagree with me, you’re wrong.”

To make matters worse, we’ve come to hold the mindset that since you are wrong, we can no longer be friends. I am both saddened and perplexed at how easily long term meaningful relationships render themselves shattered and forever broken.

I guess you can say that: “Hate dresses well to please the buyer.”  Because of disagreement, people walk away from family and friends who previously were important in their lives.  I’m not making the stuff up – it happens. I’ve seen it even in churches. The message is clear: “I want nothing more to do with you.”

In today’s environment, we no longer live as free men.  We’ve become imprisoned in a sense of indignation and we’ve allowed anger and resentment to become the defining characteristics of our lives.  Consequently, we live without a sense of freedom.

It is true not only of non-Christians, but it is often true and most noticeable for those who claim to have a relationship with God through faith in Jesus Christ.

Somehow we’ve allowed ourselves to be blinded to the things of God.  Let me rephrase that.  I want to ensure that you connect the dots and understand what I’m attempting to communicate. In today’s culture, often the “family of God” – the church, allows ourselves to be blinded to the things of God. 

How often do we opt-out of turning the other cheek or walking the second mile, or loving the unlovely?  We are simply not going to do that as though it were up to us.

Turning the other cheek, walking the second mile, loving the unlovely may not be the kind of Christianity that we want. Yet in reality, that kind of Christianity is the only kind of Christianity that actually exists. Mull that over and give it some thought:

If loving others is too much of a stretch for us under the auspices of God’s leadership, we need to carefully evaluate who we are really following.

It is not my intent to ruffle your feathers, but we can’t live with a total disregard for anyone other than ourselves and find that it reflects God’s love.

The freedom that God intends for our lives has nothing to do with self-righteousness, or being judgmental.  It has more to do with meeting others at the point of need with the love of Christ.

“When he saw the crowds, he had compassion for them, because they were harassed and helpless, like sheep without a shepherd.” [Matthew 9:36 ESV]

All My Best!

Don

Life Lessons Learned

My son and daughter have always had a close relationship. In some respects, they are as different as night and day. There is almost a ten-year difference in their ages and their life experiences differ. Craig graduated from high school in Johnson City. Andrea graduated from Midland High School, in Midland. I reference the school only because I had a friend who included a stipulation in his divorce decree that his children had to attend Midland High School.

Johnson City is pretty laid back and easy-going. Midland is more closely aligned to the fast track and can sometimes seem a little pretentious. Those differences might surface in a different blog.

When my daughter opted to attend the University of Texas, her Aggie brother described it as a delayed adolescent adjustment reaction. Okay, so maybe I’ve influenced both of their thought processes with a background in child welfare services.

Regardless of where you go to school, I’m more of the opinion that author Robert Fulghum wasn’t far off when he wrote: “All I Need To Know, I Learned In Kindergarten”. Probably neither my son nor daughter would agree with that.

Craig’s primer for life was found in the series of Lonesome Dove. He often quotes Capt. Woodrow F Call, and values his ability to think of his feet. After beating an army scout in front of some horrified townspeople, he justified his actions by saying: “I hate rude behavior in a man. I won’t tolerate it.”

Of course, he also often quotes Capt. Augustus McCrae. How’s this for a touch of genius: “I figured out why you and me get along so well. You know more than you say and I say more than I know. That means we’re a perfect match, as long as we don’t hang around one another more than an hour at a stretch.”

All of that’s a little too country for the likes of someone from Midland America. Andrea has a life lessons regarding almost anything from the Seinfeld series.

Earlier in the week, I wrote that I had a dream that I was driving a bus. I have a friend who never makes a public response to anything I share on a blog. However, periodically he will send me a private email referencing something I’ve shared.

I always look forward to his comments even if most often, they present a different frame of reference. I suspect the relationship that we share is can be summed up in the quote from Capt. Gus McCrae.

Thinking of me driving a bus, reminded my friend of a Seinfeld episode. He sent me this link:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmlCAhrAWYw

All My Best!
Don