rancherwriterpoet

Poetry, musings, reflections, life

Archive for the tag “Inspirational”

The County Fair, Part II

County fairs are so much fun, with all the vendors selling everything imaginable. The sideshows, the rides, (which I do not attempt) and , of course, the food, which I clearly DO attempt. There were concerts each night with several name stars performing. We were only there for Friday night, and the concert featured The Triumphs, a band from Rosenberg, Texas. They were an outstanding band and starred B.J. Thomas, with special guest, Roy Head. Roy is old school, very popular in the 60’s and 70’s. We were pleased to visit with him at the hotel where we both were staying, even meeting his wife. They also enjoyed holding one of the “Rancherette’s” little Silkie chickens. Later, we attended the show. Since we are of that generation, it was very entertaining for us. The “Rancherette” was fortunate to get a “selfie” with him.  It has been difficult to live with her ever since.

jennie-and-roy-head

While the entire fair is exciting, I think the main focus is on the kids, the youth who participate and show their animals. These young people work very hard to care for these animals and reap the rewards for such endeavors. If you have never been to a county fair, you can only imagine how many sheep, goats, cattle, pigs, ducks, geese and chickens these kids have entered in competition for various awards, scholarships and sportsmanship trophies. They receive  medals, belt buckles, plaques and other prizes. They experience the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat, yet they hold their heads high and show good sportsmanship to each other. Time and again I watched these youngsters compete with their animals. The judges for these premier competitions are extremely helpful to the young people. They explain different aspects of their particular animals and always in a helpful manner with words of encouragement for each one. I am in awe of the maturity of these youngsters. I think the country is in good hands when these young people reach adulthood. I also want to commend all the adult volunteers who help make this a great time for these kids. And hats off to the Fayette County Fair officials, great job.

The segment that inspired me the most and gave me particular pleasure occurred when a very young girl entered the show ring leading her heifer as her grandfather walked beside her. It was a very moving picture. I spoke to her grandfather after they finished and he told me that “they like to start them young”. A lack of wisdom on my part, I did not get their names.
grandaughter-and-grandfather-2

For me, however, this was the sparking event of the fair. That is, except for the awards the “Rancherette” received for her birds. She did well, but then she was not up against the youth either.

Our part of the show ended and you know what that meant, a four hour drive back home in North Texas with harassing among chickens. It has to stop. If I could have just send these birds home via FEDEX or UPS, then I would have had a quiet ride home.Should have stopped at Walmart and bought a pair of ear plugs. because you know the birds in the back discussed all the way home, cackling, squawking, and crowing about how some birds won a ribbon and some did not.

Just take a look at the gloating after we arrived back home. This may be the Silkie that Roy Head was holding at the hotel. Regardless, she definitely has a big head, flippant little chicken!

just-a-strutin-2

Check out the county fair where you live, you will certainly enjoy it.                                               Have a great day.

The Satellite Dish

Several years ago, I wrote a weekly column for a local newspaper in Eastland County, Texas.I lived on Lake Leon and since that was my residence, I titled my column, “Puttering Around Lake Leon. I have since moved on to East Texas, however, ”In re-reading some of those columns, I decided to publish a few of those that seem to continue to have relevance today. I have listed a category on Rancherwriterpoet that I have named “RETRO”.

In my column, each week, I attempted to make certain comparisons to life’s circumstances by using a bit of humor as well as reminiscing about the “Good Old Days.” They also include my opinions concerning Christian Life. I confess, I am not theologically trained, thus I choose not to engage in any back and forth discussions. I accept your comments gratefully and appreciate them very much.

This first “Retro” post seems to fit right in with the most recent rains we have had lately.

Puttering Around Lake Leon

Satellite Dish

Satellite Dish

During the recent rains and for that matter every time it rains, my satellite dish goes on the fritz. The box tells me the signal has been lost. It occurred to me that no matter how far technology has come in my lifetime, I am still technologically (I can type it, I cannot pronounce it) challenged.
When I was a kid, I think thirteen or fourteen; I was a huge fan of the rock and roll music during that era. Actually, I still am. Maybe you remember those records, “Wop Bop A Lu Lop… Good Golly, Miss Molly… Move Over, Beethoven…”  If you do, then you are as old as I am and maybe as technologically challenged as me, but who am I to throw stones.

Anyway, I lived in a small town in East Texas and as I recall, the local radio station never played such “outlandish” music, “music of the devil” I was told. That would be my dear grandmother, God rest her soul. It was left up to us boys to find it wherever we could. I had a small radio with a dial that required very fine-tuning to locate a station. This is when I began my technology training.

The radio station, WLAC, Nashville, Tennessee, played MY kind of music. The only problem was I could not pick it up until very late at night. That time of night as well as the type of music was unacceptable to my mother. I failed to see the enormity of it. But, then, I discovered that if I tied a wire onto the window screen and attached it to the back of the radio I could pick up the station more clearly and thus I could play it more softly, thereby not disturbing my mother. It worked! Soon my friends around town were attaching wires to their radios and we were dancing the night away to Little Richard and Bo Diddley. That is, until my mother confiscated my antenna. I suffered a jolt to my system from which I never fully recovered. Lest there be any misunderstanding, though, I carry no grudge or ill will concerning my mother. I simply moved on with my life and got my music fix down at Buddy’s Dairy Bar.

Fast forward to modern days. Time moves on and with it, advances in technology. I was left in the cold; somewhere back in Eight Track Days.

I received my first cell phone in 1985. It was called a mobile phone in those days and weighed about three pounds. It certainly wasn’t very mobile. It was more like a suitcase. But, I never learned to program it. I enlisted my enlightened co-worker to accomplish that task. Newer phones became smaller and smaller, even fitting into my shirt pocket. I retired in 2006 and retired the phone as well. After all, I never did learn to use all the features that came with it. And today, we have txt msgs, whatever that means. LOL.

I got my first computer in 1990. I almost ruined it the day I plugged it in for I knew nothing about a computer. I have not advanced much since then, either. I am in awe of the meteoric advances in technology, today, even though I have been left far behind.

Programming the VCR was a hindrance to me as well. My son in his early ages conquered that problem. Then came the DVD player. My grandson accomplished that task. The digital camera was next. My granddaughter was responsible for that programming. On that subject, I fail to see how those pictures come out when there is no film inside.

Last year, my house flooded and I had to replace the electric range. It had to be programmed as well. Fortunately, the customer service technician was very helpful. It required only two phone calls, thirty-seven minutes on hold and about an hour later, I could boil water.

However, my most serious problem arose with the satellite dish. This thing sets on my roof, facing the southwestern sky and when I turn on the television, (which I might add, I needed the assistance of my eight-year-old nephew to program), I usually receive a picture.

Except of course, when it rains. The screen tells me the signal has been lost.

rain
There is absolutely nothing I can do to retrieve a picture until it quits raining. Then the thing does it completely without my help. I am thankful for that.

This thought occurred to me. You see, all these other devices, the radio, the camera, the VCR, the DVD, the telephone, the electric range, my computer, the vacuum cleaner, the washing machine, the microwave oven, all electronic devices for which I needed help to program, ALL of these items continued to work in the rain. But not my satellite dish.
This is the only device I own that must be pointed to the sky in order to work properly. I know that signals must be received from that orbiting contraption if I am to view any program on my television.

Human intelligence, human ingenuity, although given to us by God, nevertheless, is hampered by our reluctance to acknowledge the Creator and His total creation. These magnificent devices that we cannot do without, pale in comparison with the wisdom that comes from God.
On good days, the signals from the satellite are received without a thought. It seems that way in our ordinary life. Only in the rain do I complain. Yet, God’s signals are never lost. We may tend to ignore them, to turn the set off, but they are not lost. In fact, it is a two-way communication system with Him.

The Bible is the complete communication device. The only programming I need to use this device comes from the Word itself. “For whoever calls upon the name of the Lord shall be saved.” Romans 10:13.

If I point my heart to the heavens, communication is instantaneous. I may be technologically challenged, but God is my programmer. He can be your programmer. Just point your heart to the heavens and ask. More information can be found in His Instruction Book or through Customer Service.

Biblr

I cannot pick up WLAC, Nashville, Tennessee. Not even with a copper wire tied to the window screen. Besides, they don’t even play MY kind of music anymore.

Pete Robertson, August 2008
Lake Leon

Perfect Plan, Perfect Price

Woven tightly on His head,
Reeds of thorns, discolored red.
Vision blurred, eyes so weak.
Broken voice, He tries to speak.
Lips so dry, about to crack,
Raised red whelps across His back.

Spiked to wood, the crowd demands,
His feet, His caring hands.
Pierced veins, muscles torn
Naked body thus forlorn.
gall to drink, unquenchable thirst,
spat upon, grossly cursed.

Downcast friends, broken hearts
Shaken earth; veil that parts
Opened tombs, souls released
Pain and agony decreased
Execution is complete
Sin is vanquished in defeat.

Earthly body laid to rest
Mourners saddened and depressed
Lamenters rift, beset with gloom.
Stone removed, empty tomb,
Risen Savior, sacrifice,
Perfect plan, Perfect price

Not Just Another Day

Veterans Day, originally known as Armistice Day, commemorates the end of World War I. It was declared over in 1918 at the 11th hour on the 11th day of November, the 11th month. That date is a day set aside to honor not only those veterans of WWI, but also, all veterans, men and women, who served in any war. It includes those who also served in peacetime.

Even though this poem is written in the masculine gender, in no way does it overlook the women who also served, even in the Civil War.
This poem is my effort to commemorate those brave men and women who honored me with their call to duty. I hope you find my efforts to do so an encouragement for you to do the same.

Not Just Another Day

Entwining filament into fiber,
Twisting the yarn into fabric,
the master weaver unites the nature
of his creation with the strength
of his morality.

Out of loyalty to his convictions
he strives for triumph, for success.
he does so, because it is ingrained,
fixed, and deep-rooted
in his character.

The fabric of the master soldier
Is linked with a thread of passion
and a strand of patriotism.
Bonded together, they form a shield,
a shield of honor.

In times past, the master soldier
has faced his adversaries
with courage, with daring,
with bravery and even fear.
His efforts do not go unnoticed.

I offer a mark of distinction to each
Of those who brave the unknown,
who risk their very existence
to stand for the principles of freedom.
I honor those who have served.

                                                                                                 Pete Robertson                                                                                                                                          November 11, 2014

November 11, 2014

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