Angels Among Us

May of 1969 proved to be one of the more interesting months of my life. I had officially been away from home for one year and had been in the initial phase of training for the Physical Science Laboratory at NMSU for five months. The laboratory had a contract with NASA to supply support data from a variety of tracking stations around the globe for the satellites that our country had in orbit and to also operate support launch and research stations at Vandenberg Air Force Base in California and Cape Kennedy in Florida. As a part of the program, the laboratory operated a co-op program for engineering and mathematics students where for two semesters you would work at one of the various sites and then return to campus to attend school on a full-time basis for two semesters. During the break between the fall semester and the summer session, I went on a quick trip with my parents to attend my sister’s graduation from Oregon State University. Records were set on the ground covered between Las Cruces, NM, and Corvallis, OR especially when my mother took command of the vehicle in Nevada where they did not have a speed limit. Linda was graduating with a degree in Mathematics from Oregon State University. The unusual thing about that is that she did not take any math classes there because she had completed all the requirements for a degree in Mathematics at Oregon State University during her first two college years at New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology.

We arrived mid-day in Corvallis and the graduation followed the next day. Then we took off for Portland where Dad negotiated the purchase of Linda’s first car and then to the airport so I could fly back to El Paso. One of the significant parts of this story is that I had NEVER flown in any kind of plane but that is only the beginning of the story. Unlike today, check in was fairly simple and easy. I was scheduled to fly from Portland to Los Angeles, switch planes and continue on to El Paso where I would be met by friends, followed by a side cultural trip to Juarez, Mexico, and then back to campus. At this point in my life, I hate to say that I was assigned a seat next to an OLDER woman in her 50’s. She apparently noticed that I was gripping the armrests so hard that my knuckles were turning white, so she asked if this was my first flight. I told her that it was and in a reassuring voice, she said she would get me through it. Everything went well during the flight. Each time this plane made an unusual noize my traveling companion would explain what it meant and assured me that this was a “smooth” flight. Little did I know at the time but, I flew over the general area I would be living in a few short months. As we began landing at the LA airport the plane started making sounds like it was falling apart but she calmly told me that it was simply the brakes. I thanked her for being my aeronautical Mrs. Robinson but I had to get to my connecting flight. Prior to Portland, OR the biggest airport that I had ever been in was in Amarillo, Texas. A whole new world met me as I departed the plane. People with shaved heads and orange robes chanting, conversations in every language of the world and the largest piece of real estate I had ever been in. I had assumed when I made the reservation that 45 minutes would give me adequate time to go all the way across the airport. Wrong is only one word that describes the outcome. When I finally made it to the next boarding area, the flight to El Paso was halfway across California. I asked the clerk if I could simply get on the next plane to El Paso? She told me that I certainly could but I would need to get another ticket and the plane didn’t leave until the next morning. I can’t remember the exact amount of money that I needed to get the ticket. I think it was around $100.00 and they only way I could pay for it was in a checkbook currently flying to El Paso. The clerk said maybe I could get someone to wire me the money but all of the banking facilities were closed until tomorrow morning and after they opened the flight I needed would be long gone but, I could get the flight I had missed. I must have looked like a sick puppy because she said that she had never done this before but she would loan me the money I needed and she included the plea for me not to prevent her from ever doing this again. I promised to send her a check immediately. If she hadn’t done enough already, I asked her what I could do about the people who would be heading to the airport in El Paso from Las Cruces? She said that she would immediately contact her counterpart in El Paso to page the people looking for me and explain that I would be arriving in the morning instead of this evening.

When I say that I spent the night in the LA airport one would assume that I could tell some wild stories about the place. The truth is that everyone except me and the janitorial staff went home. So I slept for a few hours in the departure area until I boarded the plane in the morning. With the time changes, I arrived in El Paso several hours after I left Los Angeles. My friends upon getting the news at the airport decided to make the cultural trip to Juarez that night and showed up at the airport ready for me to drive them to Las Cruces. I did send the check immediately so that my Airport Angel could pass it on to another traveler. She was one of many I have encountered at the right place and the right time in this life.

Thanksgiving 2018

Thanksgiving is just around the corner and every year we are saying that our blessings are too numerous to count. As it turns out, that is so true. So while the list I am publishing is true, it is not the complete one. The true one would go into the thousands.

Thanksgiving Blessing: #20 I am thankful for a roof over my head.

Thanksgiving Blessing: #19 I am thankful that I have the means to transport myself from one place to the other and live in a country that allows me to do that generally without restriction.

Thanksgiving Blessing #18 I am thankful that I live in a country that proclaims that I am free to worship or not to worship God as I deem proper.

Thanksgiving Blessing#17 I am thankful that I live in a time when people who have difficulty breathing can have a fairly normal life through medical and mechanical assistance.

Thanksgiving Blessing #16 I am thankful for all the encouragement, help and support that we have received over the last few years. The number of people is amazing and almost impossible to count!

Thanksgiving Blessing #15 I am thankful for all the connections with old and new friends on Facebook. To the old, it is so awesome that we have been able to renew our relationship even though it has been, in some cases, decades since our last contact. To the new, welcome to a new adventure!

Thanksgiving Blessing #14 I am thankful for the people who work in Companion Healthcare Hospice. They offer exceptional service, medical directions, encouragement, and emotional support. I have grown to love each of them I encounter.

Thanksgiving Blessing #13 I am thankful for The Real Estate community of Oklahoma City Metro. When we moved to the Oklahoma City Metro in 1992 with a new concept for the real estate business we were welcomed with open arms immediately forming business associations and friendships that have lasted through all of the years.

Thanksgiving Blessing #12 I am thankful that I live in the United States of America. I know that the country has problems and frankly, it will always have problems – every country does. The difference is that we have the means and methods to solve the issues. We only need to come together with the intent to resolve rather than magnify any conflicts.

Thanksgiving Blessing #11 I am thankful for the people who, from behind the scenes, actually get the job done. Rarely seeking glory, they do their job day after day and we walk by them without giving credit where credit is due. I am talking about clerks, waitresses, civil servants, the cooks, factory workers, the janitor and so many others that do their jobs without seeking recognition.

Thanksgiving Blessing #10 I am thankful for growing up in Clayton, New Mexico. While I could probably write a book on its rich history, I will defer to “Not So Wild The Old West: A Collection of Facts, Fables, and Fun” 1961 by Clara Toombs Harvey. Instead, I want to express thanks for the general train of thoughts, ethics, and expectations that were simply a part of Clayton. 2nd place was not okay when you expect to deserve the best at whatever you do.

Thanksgiving Blessing #9 I am thankful for my church family at Yukon Church. Never before have I met a group of Christians more dedicated to not only talk the talk but walk the walk. Eternal friendships have been formed with a common belief in the Love and Grace of Christ.

Thanksgiving Blessing #8 I am thankful for my pastor­­­, Keith Henson. If you would ever like to meet a person who puts God first, then you need to connect with Keith. Likewise, I know who will answer and respond to my call at 2 o’clock in the morning!

Thanksgiving Blessing #7 I am thankful for my in-laws. I know it rarely happens, but it was admiration and respect from day one with Don and Betty Potter. While they played the “in-law” role they became best friends. Perhaps the most touching attribute is that the last thing they did in life was for me. Don and Betty had flown their plane to Albuquerque to celebrate my birthday. Upon their return, a wind shear crashed the plane and they flew away.

Thanksgiving Blessing #6 I am thankful for my sister, Linda. Linda was a hard act to follow. She is three years older than me and we have in one way or the other been in competition with each other since my arrival on the scene. However, since our father’s passing in August of 1993, we have maintained at least one phone call each week to remain a part of each other’s life together. We laugh, cry and share our lives. We are now over 1,250 calls.

Thanksgiving Blessing #5 I am thankful for my parents. Mom and Dad were believers in the world of absolutes. By that I mean what they did for one child they then took extraordinary steps to assure that the other child was treated fairly. They were frugal, family oriented and community servers. In many ways they were opposites. Dad was outgoing, a true extrovert. Mom always preferred to sit on the back row even though she did teach 1st grade Sunday School. Dad had a degree in Electrical Engineering even though his dream was to be a medical doctor and had attended OU Medical School until the financial woes of the depression re-charted his life course.

Thanksgiving Blessing #4 I am thankful for all of my six grandchildren. Talk about unique personalities. If God’s intention was to provide variety in life then He can mark this one down as a success! Four girls and two boys. Elizabeth, Jerry, Claire, Abbie, Riley, and Gabe are each in their own world and bring a unique flavor of spice to my life.

Thanksgiving Blessing #3 I am thankful for my sons and their wives. Both David and Bo in their own way have tested out as geniuses. Likewise, both of the boys married (David/Carrie and Bo/Alicia) women of intellectual equality who are idolized by their husbands.

Thanksgiving Blessing #2 I am thankful for my wife, Nikki. Yes, love, at first sight, is possible and true. The day that I met Nikki I knew that she was the one. Circumstances got in the way of us having more than our one and only date because it just preceded a most horrific accident that I had in my new Porsche. After daily phone calls for the next two months, I finally convinced her that since I had broken my coffee pot and she had a new one we should get married.  Not wanting to waste time, we made an appointment with my Dad, Judge Sharp, to perform the ceremony 2 days later on December 29, 1979. I think it is going to last!

Thanksgiving Blessing #1 I am thankful for my Salvation. There are so many words that can be used to describe the act of Salvation by the Lord through Jesus Christ. Scripture expresses it best in Philippians 4:7(NIV) And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Over the past three years when my life has been held in balance several times, I do not recall fear or regret but the peace that whatever happened was for His Glory.

Tom's Stories and Memories: The Wonders of a Big City

Tom's Stories and Memories: The Wonders of a Big City: Everything is completely relative. During my early childhood, I grew up in a town that you could literally walk across without the need...

The Wonders of a Big City

Everything is completely relative. During my early childhood, I grew up in a town that you could literally walk across without the need to pack a lunch for the trip. We lived on the east side of the tracks but I could never find anyone who could tell me which one was the wrong side. Virtually all of the neighborhoods were mixed with the rich, the poor, and the middle class. Likewise, there was almost an equal division between those of Hispanic heritage and anglos. In our earlier years, we did not notice the difference between the various people, that would be learned later.

We seemed to have an obsession with two’s in my hometown. We had two stop lights, two movie theaters, two bars, two buildings with elevators, two major highways, and two elementary schools. As time went by some of those would be reduced to one but once a building had established a name, it remained attached to it forever. For example, the Bronco Movie Theatre has had many occupants but they are all in the Bronco building. The significance of this is that when we would travel to what seemed to be the biggest city in the world, Amarillo, Texas, everything was blown out of proportion. Typically upon arrival in Amarillo, we would drop in for a surprise visit with Uncle Clyde and Aunt Bonnie. Since they had created the concept of hoarding, we would only stand in their living room for about 15 minutes before we politely excused ourselves for the next stop. More often than not we would go to the downtown area of Amarillo. Since this was before parking garages had been introduced, we had to be prepared to be back by the car at least every two hours so that we could feed the parking meter. Likewise, there were buildings that were unbelievably tall. In fact, they made the Farmers and Stockmens Bank building look like a single story structure. One of the consequences of combining tall buildings and Texas panhandle winds was a series of embarrassing moments for the women and inexpensive entertainment for the men. Once we hit the downtown, the men (Dad and I) and the women (Mom and Linda) would part company with an agreement to meet back at the Woolworths at noon. The women would window shop and make note of the latest fashions so Mom could sew Linda’s wardrobe. The men would search for the best hat deal for Dad. Since the Herzstein Department Store burned down, Dad was only satisfied with hats from the Amarillo haberdashers. A note worth making. If Linda or I wanted to get anything from Amarillo, it was to be paid for with our money. Our parents consistently gave us an allowance and we worked. Gifts were given on Christmas and on our birthdays. If we wanted anything else, it was our responsibility to find a way to get it.

Perhaps the most interesting aspect of visiting Amarillo was the fact that you could see people who would seem completely foreign in Clayton. First, there was a blind Black man who played the saxophone on the sidewalks around the downtown area. He had a tin cup attached to his sax and Dad would always drop a few coins in his cup.  Likewise, when we would eat lunch at the same location every time, deaf-mutes would come by our table and put a card down on the table with the hand signs for sign language. They would take their cards to each table and then circle back around and accepted any donations. If you didn’t wish to make a donation they would take the card back. To my knowledge, we did not have people who consistently and openly sought donations on the streets in Clayton. I can not classify the people in Amarillo as beggars because they offered something of value in return for your donation. In our area of the country direct and open begging had not been introduced to the landscape.

You could tell that the trip to Amarillo was drawing to a close when we would head out on NW 10th to Wolflin Village. It was Amarillo’s first experiment in mall shopping except it was a series shops with exterior entrances. After Wolflin Village we would go across the street to a hamburger vendor that was the shape of a big cracker barrel. They had, with the exception of my Mother, the best hamburgers on earth. Then the two and half hour trip to small-town America would begin with two kids sound asleep in the back seat.

Ideas

One day I was able to join a wise man on a walk through the woods that surround us. Considering the size of the acreage I hadn’t been able to explore every part of the property. As it turns out we ventured into an area that I hadn’t seen before and as we topped one of the rises in the land what appeared to be a cemetery complete with an entry gate appeared. At the top of the gate was only one word, “Ideas”. My friend didn’t seem surprised with the discovery. In fact, he appeared to be familiar with it. I asked him if he knew what this was and he simply replied, “It is where many of the ideas of man rest.” My curiosity was peaked and I asked him why they were there? He laughed and said, “They were simply talked to death.” A wave of sadness came over me and I asked if they were gone forever? He smiled and said, “Ideas never really die. Sometimes they go into a state of limbo until there are ears that will not only hear them but act upon them.” So the next time you hear what is presented as a new idea, odds are it is simply a resurrected one with a new suit on.

November 22, 1963

November 22, 1963

From Dallas, Texas, the flash apparently official: President Kennedy died at 1 p.m. Central Standard Time, 2:00 Eastern Standard Time, some 38 minutes ago. Vice President Johnson has left the hospital in Dallas, but we do not know to where he has proceeded; presumably, he will be taking the oath of office shortly and become the 36th President of the United States... Walter Cronkite CBS News. It has been almost 55 years ago, yet it seemed like yesterday. I was officially a teenager at 13 and settled into the 8th grade. The day had begun with the usual excitement that is associated with Friday. A football game was scheduled for that night and the tensions were building because the band was becoming a force to deal with and many times the halftime performance was the high point of the game. Traditionally my sister and I would walk home at noon for lunch. Being only a block away it would take only minutes. The moment that I hit the door, I could tell something was wrong. We NEVER watched TV during the day, but it was on that Friday. Before I could say anything my Mother said that the President had been shot in Dallas and she didn’t know his condition. Linda and Dad were right behind me. We proceeded to the dining room but I don’t believe we ate anything. At 12:30, our time, it was reported that The President was dead.

I can count on one hand the number of times that I saw my father cry. This was one of those days. He had a deep love for our country and would react to defend and honor it. I know he had not voted for President Kennedy in 1960 but now his reaction was consistent. In his view as Americans, we are stronger because of our ability to disagree and then embrace each other after the will of the people is expressed. I distinctly remember him saying, “We don’t kill our Presidents”.

Linda and I returned to school and at that time there was an eerie feeling all over the campus. When we returned to class I fully expected it to be basically dismissed but our teacher said that education was very important to The President and that he believed that the highest compliment we could pay him would be to participate in the scheduled math class. Frankly, I think he was in shock and did not know what to do. During the first hour after lunch, the buses for the country kids had been arranged and the schools were closed. Linda and I slowly walked home.

Even though it had been one of the closest elections in our nation’s history, President Kennedy was unusually popular. The torch had been passed. We had won a cold war standoff with the Soviet Union. Our involvement in Vietnam was limited and withdrawal plans were in the works. The economy was good and following the infrastructure boom of the Eisenhower years a challenge had been given to the nation via the space program.

We were at a loss and as we left church services on Sunday word spread through the congregation that the suspected assassin had been killed. Looking back and trying to examine how the country held it together, it really goes back to the Cronkite statement at the beginning. We continue. We get back up. We can not be held down. The King is dead, long live the King.

Practice Makes Perfect

I think every child mentally latches onto a person and elevates them to basically a hero status. Even though you don’t actually know them, the assumption is that whatever they do must be another expression of perfection. My idol in Junior High was an upperclassman from high school who could make a trombone sound like Pavarotti. He had competed in a variety of music competitions and he would hang his medal-laden band uniform in the hallway entrance to the music building. I would glance at his uniform every time we attended band class and the image of my uniform adorned with metals danced in my head. Likewise, he wore glasses with a thick black frame. I bet you have guessed it. I had glasses with a thick black frame.

I believe that we had started in beginner’s band in the fifth grade and my weapon of mass destruction was the tuba. I am sure that if I ever sought counseling on the subject there would be some deep and closely held reason for that choice. My sister had chosen the clarinet and the massive physical difference between the two might have contributed to the choice. The tuba, while being the most obvious instrument in the band, musically it was not intended to be a solo instrument like most of the others. This created a dilemma. To obtain the metals I so desperately needed I had to participate in the band solo competitions that rolled around once a year. When I told Taylor Stephenson the band director what I wanted to do he told me finding anything would be a tall order, but he would try. Consistent with his character he had found a solo piece specifically for a tuba within the week. Rather than take the tuba home to practice and put my family through unbearable pain and suffering I asked Mr. Stephenson if I could practice in the band room after school. Since he didn’t see that as a problem I would show up right after school just as he was leaving. He told me to turn off the lights and he would lock the door so I didn’t need to worry about that. As I had promised myself I would go set up my tuba and the music sheets but the temptation to take a quick look at those medals overtook me. Consequently, I would spend more time in fantasy land in the hallway than practicing on my solo. Before I knew it the time for the contest rolled around and fortunately the judges weren’t like the ones on “America’s Got Talent” where they could hit the buzzer and drive you off the stage. Out of kindness, they gave me a 3.

While I went through a period of major disappointment, the foremost lesson that came out of the Tuba solo competition was that I had become so focused on the prize, I didn’t spend the time needed to win it. In other words, set your goal but execute a logical plan to achieve it.

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