Reflections September 19, 2011

Reflections

Over the last while, I have given much thought to a lot of different things. Perhaps one could say that I have had time on my hands, given the fact that someone had to be on fire standby, and that someone has been me. Fortunately, we have had a very slow fire season. An abundance of rain has led to yet another very quiet season. This is a very good thing. Even though the fire hazard has been low, someone still had to be at the ready in the event a fire report came in.

This lull in fire activity has provided me the time to think and ponder on life. Some of the things I have thought about are as follows, in no set order.


The law and how society decides how to make law.

Education

Religion

Morals
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What things are just simply right and wrong

Politics

Justice

What rights do I have

Science

Evolution

Getting Older

Gay Marriage

Firearm Registration

Bullying

Animals

Are we still living in a democracy or is it more of a plutocracy

Stem Cell Research

Abortion

War

Peace

Prejudice
These are just a few of the things that I have thought about. Whether or not people will admit it, these things are the some of the ones we all have feelings about. Some would say that some these I have mentioned can be touchy subjects. Indeed, I will not argue this point. However, I still think a person should be able to speak their mind and share, if they so wish, their thoughts.

I have no intention of hurting anyone in any way, these are just my thoughts. To say I have an answer, for any or all of these subjects, would be a complete oversight on my part. Are my views the end all be all? Far from it, they are just my thoughts that I want to share.

As some of you may know, I was a game warden for a long time. In that time there were many nights, many long nights, setting in the dark, waiting for someone to come along and make an attempt to hunt game in the night, which many of you may know, is an illegal activity in New Brunswick.

During these many long nights, there was one partner that I had for a long time, who I was able to discuss a lot of these subjects listed above with. Many of you will know what I mean when I say that I am going to write a dialogue. This is nothing new; Plato used this style many years ago to make his points clear. I am certainly not in the same league as Plato, but I thought that it might be fun to write in dialogue, as if it were myself and my partner, who I will call Jed, that were having the conversations.

I hope this will be fun, and also thought provoking. So over the next while, I will tackle each of these listed subjects in a way that old buddy Jed and I would have talked about each. Again I must stress, there is no intent on my part to be mean spirited in any way. In these dialogues, you will come to know what I think about each of these subjects. For this I will make no apology, for they are my thoughts. It will be up to you, as to whether you agree with me or not. If it turns out that you disagree, hopefully you will not think less of me, for I certainly will not think less of you.

On the subject of Jed, often I will put him on the opposite side of the issue. I do this in order to make a point. In real life, this was very often the way it was, however, we did agree on one or two things. I have often said if someone was to have crept up on us and listened in without our knowing, they would have called the both of us certifiably insane.

In closing I will say that these will be written over time, as I have the chance. I do hope that in the end, I will have caused some of you to give some serious thought to these writings.

RL Tex Smith
September 19, 2011

Al Gore's new thinking on the climate crisis | Video on TED.com

Al Gore's new thinking on the climate crisis | Video on TED.com

Old Will

Like an eternal fixture the old man sat on the bench, attentive as always, to life as it passed by. By and by he would speak to me about something of a trivial nature. Yet, in his eyes he was saying something else; few ever knew him well enough to know the truth that lay behind the look. The real thoughts that haunted his mind, the things he had seen, the things he had done, the places left far behind only to be found now in the caverns of his mind. A lifetime of memories like so many treasures revealed to only a chosen few.

Oh if only I were a smarter man, if only I had had the sense to write things down as they happened. However, as the old saying goes, hind sight is twenty twenty; I can not claim to be other than normal, for it is the same for the huge majority of us. Life should not be about the “what if’s” or the “if only’s” it must be about the now and what we decide to do with it.

One of life’s hard lessons is the fact that before we sometimes realize what treasures are right before our eyes, they’re gone never to return. Then and only then we learn that we have taken this great and subtle gift for granted. This old man, this dear sweet old friend, old Will, which was short for William, was for me a gift that I took for granted, insomuch as I thought he would live for ever; one day he was simply gone.

As I think back I can remember him, as clearly as though he were still here. It’s the strangest thing, even now after all these years, as I walk through the breezeway of our towns business section, and turn to the right, towards the bank, I expect to see him setting on the bench. His absence brings me back to the reality of the void. A shot of emptiness stabs my heart, and then it is quickly replaced with the warmth of his smile and the look in his friendly eyes. This repeatedly brings on a fond memory, a treasure of the grandest kind.

For me to say I knew him well would be wide of the mark. Yet, I can say that I knew him better than many. Perhaps it was that I looked beyond the constant smile seen by all, maybe I listened more intently to the things unheard by most. For within this most humble of men was a man of great knowledge, a man filled with pride for his country, a man filled with a great love for family and friends, and mankind in general. He was above all else, a man worth knowing; one that I am honoured say was one of my dearest friends.

Oh so rare are his kind, for I never once heard him say an unkind word of another. Even when someone had done a wrong, he would find a positive thing to say. Possibly it was because of the hell he had witnessed in his time. It could have been to him anything he saw after the hell paled by comparison. Hell on earth comes in many forms; perhaps we can only know hell on earth if we live within in it. Which hell on earth is the worst? I think we would know it if we saw it; Will knew it because he lived it. Once released from it’s grip, he had only then to deal with the horrifying memories that hell had left with him.

It was always there, under the surface, behind the smile, haunting and nagging at his soul. Many never seen it or knew it existed. But the look deep in his eyes betrayed his well disguised demeanour. Yet, with all of the ugliness there was also a sense of pride that he possessed knowing that he had played his part and had given his best to his comrades and country. The fulfilment of knowing that he belonged to a magnificent group of the many just like him who had faced evil in the eye and conquered it’s would be domination. Every time I watched him carry the flag in a parade or other function, I saw that pride, that look of a life that had true meaning.

Then there was the pain of the present. The hurt when those few mindless scoundrels would ignore him, scoff at him; look down on him as less than human. Thankless Ignoramuses the lot of them and I am proud to say so. But not old Will, no…he would just smile and treat them far better than they deserved. Not once did a harsh word for them ever cross his lips. For he viewed all people the same, none better, none worse. He had see the worst that man can do, and these mindless Asses fell far short of that type of evil.

His eyes though, they were not filled with hate, no…it was more in line with extreme sadness. Sad because of the sacrifice so many made. Sad because there were, even a few, that did not appreciate in any way shape or form what he and so many others did for them. At the same time thankful for the many more that did appreciate their sacrifices.

So many emotions racing up and down back and forth in his mind, combining to cause that look in his eyes. There was another thing that he possessed that betrayed his outward appearance, his voice. Steady slow and deep were the words that came from within him. Their tones to my ear rang with sadness even when he laughed I heard it. For on those rare occasions when it was just him and I, he would tell me portions of his past. The little shake of his head and the look down at the ground when in his mind he was taken back to that time as if it were only yesterday. The hurt and the pain was clear.

Then there were the other stories, the ones that filled the air with laughter. Like when he and Uncle Fred would go fishing, or the story of the twelve point buck. I heard these stories over and over and they never lost their appeal. Yet even then, the sadness was there, behind the laugh, given away by the look in his eyes.
In this world there are thousands of people that have achieved greatness. Greatness is defined in as many ways as there are people. For me, I have my great hero’s, but none are greater than Will.

What is it like to want nothing more than to be accepted? For many of us, we will never know because we have never known a time when we were not accepted. But Will knew what it felt like, because acceptance was all he ever wanted. Sadly, he never always got it. I am not sure how to ever change this in our society, I think it has always been there and always will be; this feeling that some people get that leads them to think they are better than everyone else. I am sure of one thing, old Will never had these feelings and I learned a lot about acceptance from him. I especially learned what I didn’t want to be, because I never wanted to cause that kind of feeling in another person, that hurtful feeling of non acceptance.

As I remember Will and my other old friends, I wonder where we are headed. This leads me to fear, and then I reel myself back to the now. Here today, this is what is vital for all of us. We can’t change something once it has happened. Tomorrow is important, yet today is the most important. I say this because what we decide to do today will affect what happens tomorrow. We can choose to ignore flames of destruction or we can try and extinguish them. It is our choice to make. We can choose to set back in our own little worlds and ignore wrong, saying it is not our problem. If our Grandparents had done this, today’s world would be very different.
Today does make a difference. We make a difference if we are a mind too. When thousands of British troops were trapped in a place called Dunkirk, it was the people they were fighting for that made the difference. What would have happened if those people did not make the difference? What difference does it make if my son and his son never hear of the difference these people made? What difference will it make if my son and his son never get to know people like old Will and the difference that he and those like him made? I think that we need to do more, much more, to ensure that doesn’t ever happen.

If I was able to give one piece of advice to the next generation it would be for them to start today getting to know more about the past. History from the internet, books, movies, and people, this will then reveal more of how we should live today, thus charting our course and the next generation’s course into the future, and there is no better form of history than from someone who has lived it and in many cases made it.

Folks seem to talk a lot about the “this and that” of how bad things are getting. It’s like Mark Twain said though “people always talk about the weather but no ones does anything about it”; I think we need to do something about the “this and that” of today. Take the time to get to know the old Will’s out there. Each of them has a host of lessons to share, treasures if only we could just see them as such.
Take advantage of every opportunity to get to know these people who have lived and listen to what they have to say. Do not take for granted that they will always be there. Take the time starting today to spend time with these living breathing books of history. You won’t be sorry that you did.
Have you ever once looked into the eyes of a veteran and listened, really listened? Have you ever done it with any older person that has lived? If you haven’t, its time you did. Trust me, as Will would say “I’m honest”, it will change you inside if you let it.

There are some that would say I wasted my time setting and talking to people like old Will. I feel sorry for those that think this. My times were many and never once wasted. I learned a lot and had the time of my life doing it.
One day, we will all get old. At that time I am sure we will all have lots we can share with those that will listen. It will be nice if we have the ears of some young interested folks to talk too. Besides learning valuable lessons, you will get the chance to make some of the best friends you could ever have. The joy you will feel when you know the person you are talking with is truly glad to be with you can not be described.

I will never forget all those wonderful times when I would meet up with old Will, how his face would light up knowing that I was one that really cared about what he had to say. He knew that I was one that wanted to truly spend time with him. He knew that I accepted him. Many were the times when I would walk into the Legion and he was always among the first to shout my name and ask me to set down with him “gee….come set down…I’ll getcha a Blue”. How I long for those times to return, but I know that can never be, not with old Will or the rest. Yet, those times can be had for me again and they can be had for you too. It is what we choose to do today that will make a memory for all the tomorrows to come.

RL Tex Smith
Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Frederick and Josephine

Frederick and Josephine

In the hustle bustle of this everyday fast paced life, we are inundated with a need for more. Nothing ever seems to be good enough. I contend that we have too much; yet it’s not enough. It has been drilled into us from the time we learned how to talk and comprehend what we are hearing. Be the best at everything, do not settle for second best, you are able to be whatever you want; it is only yourself that holds you back. It does not matter who you have to trample to get the things you want. You and your goals are the only thing that matter. No matter what level of greatness you achieve, you are taught to keep going and keep gaining more.

So I ask; when is enough, enough? To which I answer myself by saying there is no answer. Example: The banks made so many Billion last year in profits, they are always expecting to make more the next year; how many billion is needed?
I hear people saying I am going to work like a dog, do whatever I have to do so that when I hit fifty five I can retire and just set back and relax and do nothing, all the while missing out on family life, and a host of other simple ordinary things that really make life worth while.

Now I know that it isn’t this way for everybody, however, it would appear that the large majority of people live this way.
It is also further apparent that if we did not have some people to think this way, we would have become a static race long ago. The need for new medicines along with many other things that help us to live longer and more enriched lives demands that we have people that have the never good enough attitude.

So it isn’t always a bad thing to have the attitude of always wanting more, not if it is used in the correct context. But alas, we are a fickle bunch of beings for what is hot today is ice tomorrow. For example, if we look at a famous sports personality, when they are on top and pulling off one miracle after another, we love them and we support them. But let them go into a slump, or level off, which always happens at some point and soon they become a first class bum. Thus we see that public pressure demands that we have the best from everyone. Never mind the fact that they are human. We want our miracles. It has gone on in one form or another for as long as there have been people. We are never satisfied. Consider Eve, and Adam too, they had everything except a single tree. But they just had to have it. We always want what we can’t have. It’s fruit no matter what form it takes seems to be the sweetest. Then a few days months and
years go by and we discover there is always something to take it’s place. It never ends.

As I set and think about myself and my wants I come to these conclusions. I want my family and friends to love me as I love them back. I want to be able to eat the things I want. I want to have a modest comfortable home. I would like to have good health for my family, friends, and myself. There is the new car, the one that works well with no monthly bills to fix it, which keeps me in the poor house. Some good clean newer clothes would be nice. I can’t forget eating out once a week and maybe twice. Then there are the toys….TV, four wheeler, fishing rods, shotguns, computers, computer games, and well…you get the picture, it never ends. If I had money, then my toys would be bigger that’s all. Here we find why people are all poor, or so to speak, we all live to the amount of money we make. Little is left over for the rainy day. Thus we have to make more.

That banker I spoke of, the only difference between him and I are like for example our vacations. I am content to perhaps save up and go for a week to a big city to take in a ball game or some such thing. Where he goes for several weeks to a Villa in some far away exotic place, he spends scads of money on a host of things. I spend scads of money on a host of things. My things are hotdogs and beer. His things are caviar and fine wine. My car is a fuel efficient SUV. His car is a top of the line luxury car. My motel is that of the modest kind. His motel is of the extravagant order.

The fact is we all eat and drink. Our vehicles get us to where we are going. We sleep and rest the same number of hours. And we both come home and work very hard so we can do it again.
Who said it had to be this way? Who made it law that we have to live in a dog eat dog world? Why can’t we just slow down and relax, and take life easy? When we do, we come to learn that the simple everyday things are the most important in the life.
For as long as I can remember I knew Frederick and Josephine. To me they were Uncle Fred and Aunt Josie. This was quite strange in its own right because Fred was only my 4th cousin through marriage and Josie was my 4th cousin. Yet, they were a lot older than me and I loved them both dearly so they were just what I wanted them to be, my Aunt and Uncle.

I come from a very close family; we did, and still do, everything together. I remember Uncle Fred always had a Volkswagen when I was a kid. And when it came time for all of us to go to New Hampshire to see my Great Uncle Isaiah, I had to go with Uncle Fred and Aunt Josie. There would be three car loads of us all travelling
together, on what seemed like an endless journey to me. Oh the times we had. I can still smell the pipe tobacco from Uncle Fred’s pipe which was always a constant appendage protruding from his mouth. Aunt Josie loved to talk, always about happy things. And she would get so excited over the simplest of things. I know when we stopped at Six Gun City; the ride in the stage coach meant more than any amount of money to her.

Fred and Josie led very humble lives. A small car and neat well kept apartment was their only large, if you will, expenses. They both had good jobs where they worked very hard. I can remember going to buy potato chips, which you could do then, from the chip plant in our home town where they worked. When I seen them, and I always did, they were always the same, smiling and happy and always glad to see me.
Aunt Josie loved Budgie Birds and it was about the only extravagance I ever knew her to have. Uncle Fred liked his pipe, and walking up to the Legion to play some cards with friends, and have a beer or two.
As I got older, I was one of those friends and I was glad I was. I have many fond memories of Uncle Fred and how he would laugh at the simple everyday things, the things he loved the most.

The coldest day in January would find Uncle Fred walking along with the mail, in just a light jacket not even completely zipped up, bare hands, and no hat. But as always the pipe was there. Sometimes it wouldn’t be lit, but it was always there nonetheless.

Here they were, just two humble people with very humble wants. Enjoying the simple things in life the way it is meant to be. It strikes me; all the time that some people are too busy to enjoy the simple things, trying to get to a point where they can enjoy retirement and the simple things, so to speak, Fred and Josie were doing it every day.

They are both gone now, and I miss them both. Yet, I have a lifetime of memories from the simple life and how good it can be.

If Uncle Fred were here he would say “Yup…ya know…one feller is just the same as the next….the best a feller can hope for is to live life to the fullest…an hopefully leave behind some good memories fer those that are left behind…. it all ends the same….ya can’t taker with ya…we come in to this here world with nothin an that’s jus how were gonna leave it….so….I guess it makes us all the same…yes sir my boy….yes sir.”
Thursday, July 29, 2010
RL Tex Smith

Wilbur

Wilbur
I was down on the river shore at the benches near the spring that trickled into the salmon pool. The pool was filled with fishermen as usual. I was very young and I was listening to several of the old fellers that were on the bench.
Among these men was old Wilbur. He was a world war two veteran and he was usually quiet, but on this day, he took particular interest in me. Well, not so much me as my new baseball glove. He said “what-cha got there young feller…lets have a look.” I passed him my glove and my baseball that was tucked in the pocket of the mitt.
I have since heard many times that Wilbur was a great ball player in his younger day. The gleam in his eye when he held my ball and glove was that of a much younger man. Yet at the same time, his eyes always looked sad. Even when he was smiling, which was rare. But he was smiling as he gave me instruction on how to break my new glove in. I listened carefully and did exactly as he told me. That was many years ago and I still have the glove.
My Grandmothers house, when I was kid, was among the first as you came into town. I spent more time there than I did at my own house. Her back porch overlooked the world famous salmon pool on the Saint John River at Hartland. I can remember watching the fishermen from her porch. As many as one hundred or more fishermen lined the pool by times. The rule was take a couple of casts and then a step or two down river. Thus the line was always moving as the fishermen rotated through the pool. I can remember seeing three or four people with fish on at the same time.
Wilbur loved to fish salmon. I can still see him walking up the railroad tracks to the mouth of the Becaguimac Stream; that was usually where you would get in line to fish down through the pool. He always wore the same outfit, red and black chequered wool coat; hip waders always up and never rolled down like some folks wore them. His hat was rimmed all the way around and it was tan in color. Just above the rim, also all the way around, there was various salmon flies struck in the wool fluff that was made to hold hooks.
Wilbur was tall and thin and he never seemed to be in a hurry, yet his long strides would carry him along quickly. He never usually spoke of the war, most of the veterans didn’t, but what they did do was talk about the other feller when he wasn’t there, what they had gone through, where they had been and so on. So I got to learn a lot about each of these men in an indirect way. The other fellers always talked about the hell that Wilbur had gone through. As I got older, I often thought that’s why he always looked so sad and smiled very seldom. But then I also got to thinking, it might well be the memories that caused him a lot of pain, but it might have a lot to do with the way some people treated him too.
Wilbur lived alone and he liked to drink. Now some people didn’t like that. But I don’t guess they understood either. See to me, we all handle things differently. One feller might drink and another feller might not. It might depend on the fact that the feller that drinks might have seen more hell than the other feller. But I think it is just that we all handle things different.
Anyway, a lot of the high falutin folks in our town didn’t have many good things to say about Wilbur. I know he knew what they were saying. There are some that would say he didn’t care. But I think he did. I think from listening to him talk to some other old veterans, he couldn’t understand how come folks were so quick to forget what he and many others had done and sacrificed for them that now were so quick to judge. I think the only thing that Wilbur and many like him wanted, was a little bit of respect and thankfulness. Unless they were around their own kind, they seldom got the respect they deserved.
It often strikes me that we are very good at remembering one day of the year. After Remembrance Day is over, it is often not thought of again until the next year. But I think these men and women deserve much more than one day a year.
Often I have tried to imagine what these brave men and women felt like. I know no matter what I imagine, it can never even scratch the surface as to the real thing. Yet, by trying to imagine, I feel as though I am closer to understanding. Watching so many of your young friends die. Seeing some others become handicapped. Hearing the constant sound of bombs and gun fire for hours at a time. Helping to carry dead bodies and wounded from the field. Freezing cold and being soaked to the hide with not only water but mud too, for days on end. Seeing the country side first hand and the people first hand after their homes had been blown to bits or burned.
What it must be like to walk among the dead and perhaps crawl among the bodies or lay there for hours. To see the children left on their own and some dead or maimed. Just one horror after another. All the time wondering if you are going to make it through or not, and if you do, why you and not some of your buddies. Being taught from day one to take lives and be very aggressive about it, then going out and doing it. Then when it is over, just stop.
The only thing I have for these folks is respect. And if they drink, well…to me…that means nothing. So many men and women gave their lives for people that soon forget. So many like Wilbur made it through to live with the horror the rest of their life for so many that took and take them for granted.
All one has to do is read a bit of the history and you soon learn that this world could have been much different today than it is. It was close, very close. I say that we owe these people a lot more and lot better than ridicule for having a drink.
So many that are so quick to label another a bum or a drunk; I wonder if they had to look into the eyes of another person as they died, knowing it was their bayonet that caused the person to die, would they then be so quick to judge?
Wilbur had heard all the comments and he knew what folks thought. And it hurt him, deeper than we will ever know.
I can tell you he was a proud man, as well he should have been. He once taped a nickel to the corner of a picture of the Queen; he said to pay for the person who set beneath her. When Wilbur set down to play cards he always set under the Queen, and he shuffled his feet the entire time he set there. In fact when I first started going to the Legion, Wilbur was gone by then. But where he sat the floor was wore thin from his feet shuffling back and forth.
I wonder how many people will remember him or know of him in the future? I wonder how many will remember or know of any of the veterans in the future?
I think it needs to be taught in the schools more than ever. I think we should never ever let their memories die and fade away.
There are so many folks out there that could write so much more about folks like Wilbur. Why I wonder, does no one ever do it? They have no trouble writing about some well to do veteran, some one they say is worth writing about. To me they are all worth writing about. Every single one of them has a story and it should be told and retold. Their sacrifice was for us and we need to pay better attention to their memory and to those that are still with us.
I think of an innocent young man one day playing baseball and having his entire life in front of him, and the next day his innocence is lost to the horror of war. What a sacrifice.
To so some Wilbur might have been an old bum and a drunk. To me he was a true hero, a man I will never forget. A man I will do my best to honour by remembering him.
Monday, July 26, 2010
RL Tex Smith

Ramblings 3

Ramblings 3
They say that we are made up of a little piece of everyone we know. I would like to think that this is true. When we think about it, even the folks that we don’t agree with or ones that do stuff we wouldn’t do, we learn from.
I have always tended to really like the older folks. When I was kid, you could find me hanging out around the park benches where the old lads seem to congregate. Whether it was down by the theatre, the salmon pool, in front of the stores, or at the garage; wherever they hung out I would go just to listen to their stories.
This carried over into my adult life. I can remember playing thirty-ones for hour upon hour at the Legion with the old lads. I have many fond memories of my old friends. Sadly, a lot of them are gone now. I think of them often and wish they were still around. But that can never be, so I try and keep their memories alive.
In a way that helps them to live on, or at least that’s what I think. Maybe the old saying is true. Maybe we are a part of all those that we know and have known.
When we read a book, like true history for example, we learn. I think that especially with Biographies, it’s like a part of that particular person becomes part of us.
This is not to say that we are exactly like someone else, thank God we are not. What I mean is, if I read a book on Robert E. Lee I learn from the great military genius. When I read about Rudolph Giuliani I learn from him as well. Then I have in me parts of both of these fine men. Then I combine this with all the others I have learned from, and I become one of a kind.
I have often told students, in the fire world, that I am teaching; the one thing I know for certain is how little I know. I can remember some of the other instructors saying to me that I shouldn’t say that. Their argument was that I was supposed to know and I am sending the wrong message. To this I always answered, on the contrary, I am being honest, and I think that it is incumbent upon me to be just that, honest. The more I learn the more there is to learn, and it should never stop. I say the day it does, will be the day I take up the rocking chair.
To me the person that conveys an attitude of I know everything, or at least think they think they do, are most times the people that get others hurt and worse, sometimes killed.
Learning from the old lads around my town was a true adventure for me, it still is.
They were teaching me things without even knowing that they were doing so. I watched them and I listened as they talked to one and other.
Sometimes other kids would come around and make fun of them. They never said anything they just looked at them and the only thing different was their expressions and their eyes. One time, there were even some of these disrespectful kids that demanded money from the old fellers; when they refused to give them any money, one brat spat on one old lads leg. Now he just slowly took out his hanky and wiped it off. The only thing that was said was, “you young-ens bess git on yer way….an ya bess do er now”. It wasn’t said loud or in an angry way. But it was said in a way that was low and direct, a way that meant business, in a tone that made them believe that it was said with all seriousness. Combined with a look that was of kind I had never seen before. It was for me scary. It must have been for the brats too, for I can remember them staring at the old man silently, then for some reason, one of the brats said, “come guys…lets
leave these crazy old bastards alone….they ain’t gonna give us no money” and off they went, and quickly too.
As I think back on it, my learning curve took a huge leap that day. I learned that becoming anything that resembled those brats was something I never wanted to do. I would never disrespect my elders or anyone else, not on purpose anyway. I learned that after this episode, the old mans face and eyes showed something terrible; it showed pure hurt. I knew I never wanted to cause that kind of hurt for anyone, not on purpose. I got a chance to see what true cowardice was and what true grit was. I came away from that situation respecting that old man far more than any words could ever describe.
Everyone from the people we hold in high esteem to those we think less of, (and yes we all do that, it is wrong to do it, but we all do) deserve respect from us. If we don’t know all the story of a person’s life we have no right to judge them. We have no right to judge another person period. But again, we all do it in some form or another; to me its one of mankind’s ugliest features.
What makes us feel like we are better than others? Is it money? A nicer home? A nicer car? I think there are a host of combined reasons. We all have this ugliness within us. We are outright lying if we say other wise. We have known it all along too. We just don’t like to admit it. You know, I made a better mark on the test than he or she did…so I am smarter. I have a nicer bike, so I am better. I got more goals than the others so I am a better player. And then my favourite of all wrongs…I go to church and he doesn’t….so I am better. Ugly I say, that is what it is, pure ugliness.
Another time I was setting with one of my oldest and dearest friends in front of the grocery store on the bench. It was a great day, the sun was shinning and we were having a gereat talk. Then along came a so called wonder of goodness, a so called good living man, a so called good church going God fearing man, a so called outstanding citizen. My friend looked up and said a kind good day to this person. The person looked back at him and shook his head with disgust and a pure look of repulsiveness, turned his head back ahead, stuck his nose in the air and continued on with out speaking a word. My friend turned to me and said “some folks would as soon die as to speak to a feller”. I agreed but I also seen something; it was that look again, it was hurt.
I learned again on that day. It seems that the learning never stopped when I was around my older friends. I hope I can somehow convey to others, especially my children to be the same way when it comes to learning. I hope they always respect others.
In the next few writings I hope to talk about a few of my old friends. I would hope that all that read my writings know that these people were and are some of my dearest friends. I have nothing but the greatest admiration for each of them. And if I write something that somehow is taken in a way that makes them look small or less, it will surely not be my intent. It will be an accident if I do.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
RL Tex Smith

Timber Teegers

Timber Teegers

I mind the time back in the summer of 2000, I found myself in the great state of Montana. I was there with a bunch a fellers ta try and help out with the fires what was reekin havoc all over that there state.We each got hooked up with a crew a military folks an we became their crew leaders. They was twenty a them there young folks in each crew, both men and women.My outfit came from the Montana Air National Guard; an they called us Prairie seven. Now they was some of the nicest youngens I ever did meet up with. They was used ta takin orders an they was no back talk er fellers with a case a the cutes among em. Gives me the willies now as I think on it, cause jus over a year later, a lot those youngens in that there outfit was in a place called Iraq, an that there was a horse of a different color as compared to them there fires.I stayed in touch with a few of them, but like always happens, the letters got fewer and fewer till all ta once, they stopped all ta gether. The one I stayed in touch with fer the longest was the crew medic. We called her Band-Aid, but even she quit writin, and so it jus leaves a body ta wonder. Are they all still ok? Where are they now an what kind a adventure are they into these here days?Well sir, they is this old movie on the late late show by times called “The Devil’s Brigade”. It’s a story based on true ta life happnins. See in world war two they was a bunch a Canadian soldiers and a bunch of American soldiers what joined up an trained ta gether. Them there fellers became the first Special Forces outfit that there ever was. Their base when they was a trainin was called Fort William Henry Harrison. It was located near the city of Helena. Now whad-ya spose, that there fort was just exactly where we all ended up ta give them there youngens some trainin in wildland fire, a for they went ta the real deal.Now I figured that there was quite a thing, here we was a bunch a Canadians an a bunch of Americans teamin up agin ta do battle. Only the enemy weren’t in far away places like the Aleutian Islands, Italy, er the South of France. No sir, this here time the enemy was right here on the home front.Fightin a big ol fire in a lot a ways is just the same as a war. They onliest thing is, the fire don’t shoot back, aw… it likes ta try an trap ya an eat ya every so often; but ya just don’t let it out think ya, an most times you’d be jus fine.Any way…oncest the trainin was done each crew was given an assignment and off we all went. Them youngens, as is always the way, was a chomppin at the bit ta git at er.Ar outfit got several light assignments and when Command and us crew leaders figured they was ready, we got assigned to the real deal. Prairie seven ended up on the Tauston Maudlow Fire and she was a big- en.We started out on the tail end a that there fire a buildin hand line. I watched them youngens close an as near as I could tell, they was doin a right fine job. We worked all day and then came back to git cleaned up an have some grub. Plan the next day, an then crawl in ar tents an hit the feathers.I was a layin there tryin ta hunker down fer some shut eye when of a sudden the wind commenced ta blow. An I mean blow. I got up an took my wind gauge out ta see just what was a happnin. Now whilst I was a measurin the wind, I looked over yonder an saw a half dozen small tents go a rollin by. The Guard had rigged us crew leaders up a big ol tent, we had cots an the works. I got a few a the lads up an toll em we bes tighten the riggin lines on ar tent a for she went the great routetoo. So Dad an Bozo, the Bear, an a few others came quick ta give a hand at doin jus that.Well sir, that there wind was a blowin a steady fifty miles per hour with gusts up ta seventy, an it kept it up all night. An jus as the sun was a comin up, she quit jus as bout as fast she started.At the morning briefing the Incident Commander (IC), who happened ta be a woman, and one I could tell what had no patience fer tom foolery, said “Well folks…as ya’all might a guessed by now….ar fire in the night, on account a that wind has decided ta git up an leave us.” And leave us it did, the head end a that there fire was now fifty miles beyond us.So it was decided we all would go to the line an work the day an whilst we was out workin, the Guard would move ar tents and riggin closer so as ta ketch up with that monster. That way we wouldn’t have so far ta travel ta git ta work in the days that follered.I don’ t know if a feller could rightly say that we made a whole lot a head way that day, but we dug an scratched the day away tryin at least. In this here area, they weren’t accustomed ta usin water ta fight the fire, cause the water was danged scarus. Bein as though there weren’t many waterin holes, we used dirt an made hand lines. An ya know by dingies a lot a the time it worked.So like I said, we dug an scratched an beat an thrashed the day away; an come the end, my outfit was plumb spent. It was a good thing that the IC had enough sense to look ahead an have the Guard set up ar riggin, cause I ain’t sure my folks coulda done it.They had set us up in a cow pasture an it was a big-en. That thing was full a cow pies. Now that there didn’t bother us none, but what I found out later bothered me in a big way.Everyone was mullin around and gittin ar new tent city up ta snuff. I noticed that there cow field was full a holes in the ground about two inches round. Now I never give it no thought, other than ta wonder what on earth made so many a the things.By an by I saw a bunch a Army Guard fellers from another outfit, they was all hunkered down around them holes. Me bein on the curious side a things, I walked up to em an said “what-cha doin fellers?” All at the same time I could see that they had their Leatherman pliers out an they was a proddin them there holes with em. Them lads not bein from my outfit jus kind a looked up at me, an this one big ol bald headed feller said “You’ll see”.Now where I’m from if some feller gives you an answer like that there, ya bes put yer guard up. An me not likin surprises a whole lot, I did jus that. As they went back ta proddin in them there holes, not payin me much mind, I said “what made all these holes in the ground anyway?” That same bald headed feller kind a grinned and said “Timber Teegers”. With a puzzled look I said “Is that a fact…well I don’t guess I ever did hear tell of a critter like that…whad-a them Timber Teegers look like?”Old Baldy looked half disgusted as he said “You know…ground Squirrels…er don’t ya’all have Squirrels up in Canada?” Now this here feller was actin a bit on the cute side, as some are bound ta do. But I never let it bother me none, cause I figured he was jus testing me out, ta see what kind a reaction I’d have ta him actin a bit snotty. “Oh heck yes…we got Squirrels…an lots of em…Onliest thing is, they stay in the trees where they is supposed ta be…we got us enough trees back home that they don’t have ta go digging in the dirt ta find a home….So…ifthem there holes is made by Timber Teegers…whad-a-ya fixin ta do with them there pliers….pull imm out by the whiskers?”Jus then old Baldy up an stuck them pliers right in my face. An stuck in them pliers was a big ol spider. Well sir, I don’t like spiders none. So I stepped back in a hurry. When I got my senses gathered, I lit in ta ol Baldy. As I stepped back closer agin I said “Now young feller….I know its likely that you bin trained ta kill a man with yer hands in more ways than I could care less about….I know yer jus tryin ta have you some fun…but I’m here ta tell ya what. Don’t ya’all ever stick no spider in my old phizog ever agin…cause ifn ya do…I’m gona have ta show ya’all what a good ol boy from Carleton County is a capable of!”Well heck, as soon as they seen I wasn’t gona cower and run they changed their tune. They all apologized all over them selves why even ol Baldy said he was sorry.See in everyone a them holes which was sure nough made by Timber Teegers, they was a funnel shaped web. An in every one a them there webs was a Black Widow spider. They toll me all about how the big-ens was the females and the little fellers the males. They showed me one hole where a body could see the little fellers all a clamberin over the big female. They said the females were lookin fer a mate. An as soon as the lucky feller got hisself picked, after he was done he got hisself a good reward…the cussed ol female would kill an eat imm.Funny…as I think on it….I guess I’ve known a woman er three jus like that. Aw but, them there are other stories.Anyway, I made my way back ta tell the lads about what I had learnt. When I toll the story we all looked at one an nother an we made it fer ar tent. Whad-ya spose…sure nough we counted us seven holes in the ground on the inside a ar tent. See, ar tent didn’t have no floor.Well sir, that there started a big ol fracas. We all kind a revolted, an ta make a long story short, I slept with ol Bear in one a them there Army Hum Vees, some a the other lads slept in the Army Duce an a halfs, while others slept on the back a them ol trucks. All I know is that none a us fellers slept in the tent that there night.See a Rattler he’ll let a body know when ya git too close. But them thereWid-ers…they’ll crawl right in bed with a body an jus bite-cha out pure meanness.We only had ta stay there in what we named Spiderville for the one night. Cause the fire up an took off that night too. So we ended up in the Canyon Lake Ferry District set up on the site of a fair grounds. There weren’t a sign of a hole no where there bouts. Never seen no more Wid-ers either.

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

RL Tex Smith