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Sister Kim, Cap'n Nate and The Tribe made the seven hour (snow storm) journey from KC to join us in our Thanksgiving Celebration. We all had many things to be thankful for this year, not the least of which is Cap'n Nate's safe return from Iraq and other various war zones around the globe. We're also very thankful for our children and our families. Please take a few moments in the near future (hey, why not now) and literally count your blessings. You will be quite surprised at their number.
All the family converged on Tampa this week for a moving memorial service for our beloved Grandpa. Sister Kim (The Classical Singer) sang two songs. It was powerful and moving. Her voice completely filled the room and I thought that glass would break. But more importantly, it was beautiful, inspiring and yet, mournful. Brother Adam said a few words that were comforting and reassuring. The highlight of his comments were when he told of recently sharing Jesus with Grandpa and spending time praying with him. I also had a few words which are here. It was a very nice service and is just what Grandma wanted. We miss Grandpa dearly and we pray for Grandma.
A great man died this week. Richard, Dick, Dad, Pops, Grandpa, Flash. That is how he was known. He was a loving husband, father and grandfather. He was a man of great probity. He was always jocose and droll--but not fatuous. He was ever complaisant and amiable. He had neither a truculent nor recalcitrant bone in his body. He remained, even in his latter years, both sagacious and perspicacious. And though he had a prodigious lexicon, he was neither prolix nor garrulous. Nor would he have had to look up all those words, as did I. He lived a long and properous life and he made the world a better place by having visited here. His legacy lives on and we shall dearly miss him. God Bless your soul Grandpa.
All the cheerleaders were gathered and honored this week at the annual sports assembly. They all received the "08" and a megaphone for their letter jackets. Individual awards were given to each cheerleader. L.D. received the Strongest Stunter Award. She is a fairly sturdy chick, but really. Couldn't they come up with a more favorable award? How about Loveliest or Most Precious? Those would be my suggestions. But, after thinking about it a bit, who would you rather have with you if you get a flat tire or run out of gas? Couldn't have Most Precious changing the tire or pushing the car. Better to go with sturdiest.
Last weekend, it was back to Wichita Falls for the second time in a month--this time for a wedding. Our niece, Dr. Mandy, got married...to a doctor. It was a beautiful (and fun) wedding but, alas, I forgot my camera. I brought the camera to W.F., but I forgot it at the house the night of the wedding. At least I managed to get some pictures of L.W., BoyHead and Lovely Daughter in their finery. And I did get some pictures Friday night at the rehearsal dinner--so I'm not a total stooge.
It's not often that my whole tribe is looking good at the same time (for some of us, it's a fairly rare event), so I thought I'd take advantage of it. Please indulge me.
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Lovely Wife's father, W.C., regaled BoyHead with tales of the early days in the oilfield. It actually started in the Navy where he played some poker and made enough money to get his start in the business. W.C. and his father paid some guy to build them a drilling rig and they spent the next few years drilling--mostly dry holes. Soon, though, they began to strike oil and the rest, as they say, is history. W.C. has been an independent oil producer in Texas for many years and has some really interesting stories to tell. One, which is fascinating to me, is how they knew where to drill. In the early days, there wasn't all this fancy machinery and remote sensing. But there was the Doodlebug. W.C. was never really sold on it, but his father was a Doodlebug afficionado (sp?). It's essentially a divining rod made from metal cables and with a cylinder at the intersection. The cylinder was filled with the appropriate type of oil that they were searching for. W.C.'s dad would walk the field and map out where the oil was. It worked with the regularity of a stopped clock--even when W.C. replaced the oil in the cylinder with Coke.
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BoyHead and I also found a little time to play. L.W.'s brother, Randy, took us out for hamburgers and then to shoot some skeet early Saturday afternoon. Lot's of fun. Thank you Randy.