Let The Sun Shine In

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I’d like to tell you about an interesting beach house but first I need to describe the setting. Mission Bay, San Diego, and the parks surrounding it make up a fabulous playground for people of all ages. As late as the 1950’s, the area was mostly nothing but marshes. Now, it’s a beautiful 4,200 acres of water, beaches, green parks , and sidewalks wide enough to accommodate bikes, skates, and joggers. There are many beautiful ocean-front properties facing the Pacific but the bayside properties are equally elegant.

Several years ago, Pat and I rented the downstairs portion of a beautiful bayside home for a week. The kids and grand-kids were invited to come and go as often as they could.

The house was owned by a couple who lived in the upstairs part of the place while they made a very comfortable living renting out the first floor. The house was furnished in very good taste with quality furniture and accessories. However, it was the upstairs that was amazing. The eastern wall that faced the bay was a garage door! Imagine sitting there and drinking your morning coffee and punching a button and having the wall roll up! The morning sun comes streaming into your combination kitchen and family room while you enjoy that cup of coffee and watch the sail boats and rowers go by. Fantastic!

One morning, I was on the other side of the house and the door to the garage was open. Sitting there and looking proud and sassy was a 1956 Thunderbird just like this picture.

1956_Ford_Thunderbird

Dave Thomas
February 26, 2015

 

Quarry Story Number 1

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The sky was blue and the sun was shining but the temperature was probably in the low 40’s. If you kept moving you were okay but stopping just exposed you to the full effect of the wind up here on top of the pasture. We had come up out of the old limestone rock quarry and were moving uphill, to the northeast, and approaching a limestone outcropping at the crest of the hill. If you had asked, we would have told you we were rabbit hunting. We each carried a .22 rifle and were good enough with them. I was twelve or thirteen and Jack was a couple of years older. If you had questioned us further we would have told you that we were just there for the joy of being outside and didn’t really care if we saw a rabbit or not. This section of ground was a limestone dome that had been drilled on and there were a half dozen pump jacks scattered around that were bringing up oil with every dip of their heads they made. The land itself was pretty poor in that only a couple inches of dirt covered the limestone and that would only grow some short grass and weeds. The whole section was only supporting a couple of cottontails and we practically knew the wary little devils by their first names after seeing them vanish over the crest of the hill so many times.

We were just cutting across the top of the hill to get over to a place on the river where we might have better luck. We decided to take a breather and stopped at this little gully that meandered down from the crest of the hill. If you dropped to the ground you were out of the wind and could enjoy the feeling of the warm sun. After sitting there for a minute we began hearing a soft crying sound. We hadn’t seen any people or animals as we walked so had no idea what it was. As we sat there and tried to tune out the sound of the wind the sound became clearer and seemed to be an animal in distress. We began searching the area around us and right at the crest of the hill found some vertical slabs of limestone with a crack between them. The sound was coming right out of that crack so we scooted over there and tried to see into it. It was about noon so the sun was above us and was showing into the hole. We could see that the hole was probably 10 foot deep and had big rough stones in piles around the edges. Due to the shadows we couldn’t determine what kind of critter was in there so we pulled some wild oats out of the side of the hill and knotted them into a hank. We always carried matches in case we would want to cook something so lit our “torch” and dropped it into the hole. We were amazed to see a young calf looking up like he was the happiest guy in the world to see us. I was afraid he may have broken a leg when he fell in so I decided to go in and check him out. The hole was large enough for me to get through and it looked like there were plenty of hand-holds so I went on in. I ran my hands up and down his legs and everything was good so I climbed back out. The pasture was used by a farmer named Glen Lietzke who had been a high school classmate of my folks. I knew Glen better than Jack did so I headed on over to his farmhouse while Jack stayed there to talk to the calf and keep him quiet. The house was only half or three-quarters of a mile away and as I got there and started down the lane, Glen arrived in his pickup. After I explained the problem, Glen went to the barn and picked up a couple of ropes and then we headed back over to Jack and the calf. Glen was a stocky man and couldn’t fit through the hole so he asked me to get back in there and put the ropes on the calf. Glen directed me on trussing up the calf and then he and Jack hauled him up while I tried to keep him lined up. At first it didn’t seem like the calf would fit through the hole but eventually we got him lined up right and he slid right out.

That calf was a lucky fellow. We didn’t ordinarily cut across that pasture because we knew we’d never get a rabbit up there. Glen was tickled that he hadn’t lost a calf and Jack and I were happy that we’d had another adventure.

 

Dave Thomas
 October 20, 2013

 

Is Anybody There?

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We’ve all heard the terms “birdbrain” and “bird-brained”. They are applied to people who are slow to think or are stupid. The terms are quite derogatory and can surely be applied to the birds themselves. However, I’m not sure that these words can aptly be applied to parrots. I know that all parrot owners think their birds are brilliant and capable of thinking and saying wonderful things. It’s like the parents of human babies coming to work and telling you of the meaningful things their 6-month old did the night before. Most of us have a tendency to roll our eyes and say “Yow…sure!” Well, Pat and I have actually come to the belief that parrots can express real thoughts.

Our friends, John and Ollie were going on vacation and needed someone to birdsit their parrot, Highpockets. Their friend who normally took care of that was going to be out of town also. We knew that John had Highpockets over 25 years and would be quite worried about him so we agreed to let him stay with us. It worked out fine and over the years we took care of him a number of times.

The first time John brought Highpockets over he gave us a thorough briefing on how to take care of him. He concluded by telling us how he liked to whistle at girls, sometimes sang opera, and sometimes spoke Spanish. Yes, I know, this is where we all roll our eyes and say “Yow…sure!” Proud “parents” just can’t resist telling you all that cute stuff they believe to be true.

The first couple of days were pretty normal with no events to traumatize the parrot or us. Pat and I were watching TV in the living room with Highpockets sitting on his perch. Pat went to the kitchen and got some grapes she was chilling in the refrigerator. We were enjoying the grapes and both of us had commented on how good they were. I said “I wonder if Highpockets likes grapes?” Pat says “I don’t know?” A few seconds later, Highpockets chimes in with “I like grapes.” We almost fell out of our chairs. To think that the parrot could actually process information and correctly respond to it just about blew our minds.

We had a dog named Herbie that loved to play with the kids. Herbie was half Airedale and looked it with that Airedale hair and he was smart as a whip. The kids would throw balls and sticks and he would fetch though once in a while he would grab the item and run off just so the kids would chase him. One day they were all out in the back yard playing. Russ threw a stick and Herbie was off like a streak of lightning to fetch it. I guess Herbie thought it would be more fun to run off with the stick so h he took off around the yard. Russ is running after him and yelling “Stop, Herbie!” Doug and Terri had joined in but they were yelling “Run, Herbie!” Meanwhile, Highpockets is on his perch in the living room and can see all the action in the back yard through the picture window. All the commotion gets Highpockets excited and he starts bouncing around on his perch and yelling “Run, Herbie, run! Run, Herbie, run!”

At first, we thought it was kind of cute, the way Highpockets was attracted to our daughter, Terri. Later, we decided his demeanor was that of a stalker or a dirty old man. When out of his cage he would follow her and he looked pretty sinister when he did it. He would walk along at an even pace with the tips of his wings crossed behind him and look just like a little old man with hands clasped behind his back. Terri would be trying to get away from him and if he succeeded in cornering her he would give out a fiendish little laugh. Highpockets scared the heck out of her and to make it worse he even bit her toes. Sometimes when Terri would go into the bathroom, Doug would get Highpockets  out of his cage and place him outside the bathroom door. When Terri opened the bathroom door to come out, her nemesis would be waiting there to confront her and would give out that fiendish laugh. That rotten bird was relentless and would stalk her until she would shut herself in her room or go outdoors. She hates parrots to this day.

Parrots make a lot of noise. At bed-time, you put a cover over their cage and being in the dark they will go to sleep and stay quiet until the next morning. Pat and I have always gotten up early so when Highpockets was visiting we would uncover his cage early in the morning. Some days he would sing and jabber at the top of his lungs and wake the kids up and drive us nuts in the process. One night before going to bed we talked about the noise problem and how nice it would be to get up and have a cup of coffee without listening to all of that. We decided that after getting up we would leave the cover on the cage and hope that Highpockets  would remain asleep and we’d have some peace and quiet. The next morning, Pat and I woke up about the same time and got ready to go downstairs. We remind each other of our pact to stay quiet. We come down the stairs as quietly as we can and tip-toe across the living room. Just as we get to the kitchen door we hear this tentative little voice coming from the cage…”Is anybody there?”

Okay…you can roll your eyes all you want. Pat and I are convinced that parrots can think and reason. Just thinking about it and remembering these incidents makes the world seem like a lot more fun.

Dave Thomas

8/19/2014

 

Dinner Guest

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Back in the mid-1970’s we rented a 35 foot RV for a trip back to Kansas to visit our families. It was Pat and I, our teenage sons, Russ and Doug, our daughter, Terri, and Terri’s friend, Susan. We cut across northern Arizona to Prescott and Jerome and then to the Four Corners and over to Durango.

We had reservations at a campground for the night and decided to have a Chuck Wagon style BBQ dinner at a place just out of town. The place guaranteed a stage show and live music along with their fantastic dinner.

The eating area had a stage and a bunch of tables with benches. We got in the chow line and filled our plates and then took a seat at the last row of tables. Directly behind us was a wood fence or wall about 4 feet high that ran all the way across the back and served as a divider between the entertainment area and the rest of the property. Behind the fence, the land sloped up and was covered with small pine trees and bushes.

We were enjoying our dinner and the show when Pat got an eerie feeling that someone was staring at her back. She whirled around to confront the intruder and found herself face-to-face with a bear that was leaning on the fence and watching us eat. Pat let out a scream that stopped the show and the whole audience turned to see what was going on. What we all saw was that bear, scared out of his mind, and running up that hill as fast as he could go! The announcer, on stage, says “Well, we won’t be seeing that bear for a while!”

Dave Thomas
November 28, 2014

 

Need Any Help?

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After retiring, Gene Maness moved to Keller, Texas. Then, after a couple of years of mowing his lawn and loafing he decided to get back to a side job that he had for several years which was owning and managing rental properties. He started looking around and found some good deals in Fort Worth in the hospital district where budding medical doctors went to school and served their internships. Medical students didn’t have much time for parties and tearing up their apartments. Also, Mom and Dad would pony up the money to rent a condo on an annual basis.

Gene found a condo complex full of medical students and the units were selling at reasonable prices. One deal seemed to lead to another and I think Gene ended up with five units. He was happy now that he could find handyman type stuff to do that would enhance his investments and give him a project now and then.

Gene decided that the bathroom floor in one of his units needed to be replaced so he spent a few days shopping for the tile and tools. He got all the stuff together and took off one morning for Fort Worth. Gene didn’t like the speed and crowded conditions on the Interstate (I-35) so he elected to take a relaxing drive down Main Street which runs north to south all the way through Fort Worth.

It was a warm and pretty morning and Gene had the windows rolled down on his pickup. He was driving in the right-hand lane, closest to the curb when the light changed in front of him and he had to stop. There was a scantily dressed woman standing on the curb, obviously a prostitute. She stepped over to Gene’s truck, poked her head in the window, and said “Can I do anything for you?” Gene looked her straight in the eye and replied “Not unless you can lay tile!”

Dave Thomas
December 7, 2013

 

The Horse Feeder

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The Horse Feeder

I went to the doctor down in Fort Worth yesterday and when I got in the waiting room I sat down beside another senior citizen. We talked for a few minutes about the big storm that was due to hit during the night. After talking that over for a few minutes we were sitting quietly with our own thoughts. I was mainly thinking of the chores I should get done before the bad weather hit. Then, all of a sudden, he says, “We’re from up in Denton and we’ve got some horses on our place up there or, to be correct, I should say that my wife has some horses on our place up there. The problem is she’s afraid of storms and especially scared to death of being hit by lightning. So, when the big storms like this one come, I have to get out there and feed the horses. Among our family and friends I’m known as the “Sacrificial Horse Feeder.”

Dave Thomas
April 23, 2008

Another Story: Griffin

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1 of 2 Another Story: Griffin

Another Story: Griffin

Uncle Will Church had a Registered Shorthorn bull named Griffin. Griffin didn’t like anybody and he had scared the devil out of me a couple of times. One day I had gone out to the farm with Uncle Dave and Aunt Rachel to visit with Uncle Will and Aunt Ella. They were busy visiting and told me to go outside and look around. I wandered over to the chicken coop and checked out the hens and then headed for the barn. It was a nice, big, traditional looking barn. Naturally, it was red and had big doors on each end with a lane down the middle so you could drive a wagon in. There were good sized stalls on each side of the lane and you could either enter the stall from the lane or, each stall had a Dutch door on the outside of the building. The Dutch doors could be opened at the top to provide ventilation or to let the animals look out.

The barnyard itself had a really stout fence around it. The posts may have been railroad ties initially and strung between them was some quality 3″ or 4″ pipe that looked like it might have been drill stem from the oil fields.

I wandered down to the barn and leaned on the barnyard fence and looked around. I always enjoyed going into the barn and smelling the hay and the livestock. I slipped through the fence and started across the barnyard. I was about half way to the barn when around the corner comes Griffin. We were both surprised and it made him mad and just flat scared the hell out of me. I was straight across from one of those Dutch doors and saw that the top half of the door was open. I took off running and so did that bull. Being highly motivated, I was covering the ground pretty fast. Of course, so was Griffin. There wasn’t time to open that door. I got there just before Griffin nailed me and dived right over it. Yuk! The stall was empty but hadn’t been mucked out and I landed in the nicest, freshest, bunch of cow pies you ever smelled. I wasn’t sure what to react to…relief that the bull hadn’t killed me or the mess I landed in. I took a handful of hay and cleaned up my arms and shirt front. Fortunately, I had turned my head to the side and didn’t land with my nose and mouth down.

I peeked out the door to see where Griffin was and saw him over in the corner staring out into the pasture where the dairy cows were. I knew he wasn’t thinking about me so I went over to the other side of the barn, dashed across the yard and dived through the fence. There was another pen with a horse trough and a spigot to get running water so I went over there and started washing up. I rinsed my shirt out and hung it on the fence to dry. By this time, I’d been spotted through the window and Uncle Will, Aunt Ella, Uncle Dave, and Aunt Rachel all came out to see what kind of trouble I was in. And, as soon as they found out, they all started laughing and kept it up until they practically choked. I’m sure I was beet red in the face. As you can see, some 65 years later, I still remember it well.

Dave Thomas
December 9, 2013

 

Ed Lietzke’s Dog

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I must have been 11 or 12 and was riding my bike. I don’t remember where I was heading but I had crossed State Street and was going east on Clark. As I rode past Doc Brandt’s house I looked up ahead and could see a dog coming toward me. He didn’t get in the street but was zigzagging across the yards and sniffing everything real good. He was a big black and tan coon hound or trail hound and was a fine looking dog. I figured he was lost so I pulled over to the curb there on the north side of the street and waited for him to come up to me. He got there, all smiling and slobbering, and I started scratching his ears. I asked him if he was lost and when he didn’t answer, I started checking the collar and tags on his neck. I got one of the tags turned around where I could read it and it said, “I am Ed Lietzke’s dog, whose dog are you?”

The dog was itching to go and I turned him loose. I figured that everyone in town knew Ed Lietzke so he would get home okay.

Dave Thomas
November 15, 2015

 

The Black Cat

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This one was probably 45 or 50 years ago, when the kids were young. We all liked cats and had several of them. Also, it seemed that when anyone dumped a cat in the neighborhood it ended up at our house.

One day, this young, black tomcat showed up. He had a beautiful, shiny, black coat and a sunny disposition as well. He seemed very smart and loved to be held and petted. We took him in and thought that since we already had too many cats we should try to find a home for him.

Over the next few days we all enjoyed having this guy around but discovered that when it was time for a bowel movement he would always do his job in the fireplace rather than the litter box. We kept our eyes open and if any of us spotted him heading for the fireplace we would grab him and deposit in the litter box. We tried for several days to teach him, but it just wasn’t working. That settled it, and we decided there was no way we could keep him. He had to go.

Soon after, Pat was at work and one of the men said that his wife and kids were bugging him to get a kitten. Pat says “We’ve got a beautiful young male, only a few months old that was dropped off in our neighborhood. He’s got a beautiful black coat and loves kids and loves lots of attention.” Her co-worker says “he sounds perfect and I’d like to have him.” So, the next day, Pat takes the cat to work and gives him to the guy. A few days later, she sees the guy and asks him how the cat is doing. “Oh”, he says, “he’s such a beautiful cat and we all just love him!” Then, he says, “There is one thing…” Pat tries to look cool and unknowing as she asks “What would that be?” “Well”, says the guy, “we can’t keep him from crapping in the fireplace!”

Dave Thomas
`July 13, 2014

 

Company For Breakfast

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Pat and I had gotten up just a few minutes before and were just sitting down at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee. We heard a noise outside and Pat got up and opened the curtains. There was a donkey with his lips almost against the window. He must have been as startled as we because he cut loose with Hee-Haw, Hee-Haw and it was loud enough to shake the house! We recognized the donkey as the pet of the Noble family that lived several houses up the hill from us.

We had been visited by the donkey a couple of times before. We had a Shetland pony for the kids that we kept in a corral next to our back fence. In the previous visits the donkey had come down the back fence- line but for some reason this time he had come down the street. I had my jeans on and was wearing flip-flops or thongs or shower shoes or whatever you call them. I went out to the shed and got a lead rope and came back and snapped it onto the halter the donkey was wearing. I headed for the street to take him home and he was well-mannered and led on a slack rein, walking beside my shoulder.

We got to the street and started up the hill but it was tough going for me. The asphalt streets in our development had been sealed a couple of days before and then a fine layer of sand had been spread on them. The footing wasn’t that good and I kept scooping up sand with my flip-flops. I was relieved when we got up the hill to the Noble’s house. However, about this time, the donkey must have realized he was almost home and he snorted and whirled around and started running back down the hill. I dug in my heels and yelled “Whoa” as I held onto the end of the lead rope. It was a wasted effort! That donkey was going downhill as fast as he could go and I was out on the end of that rope with my heels dug in and looking like a water skier on a slalom course. Our wild ride finally got us to the bottom of the hill and as we got to our house, I could see Pat in her pajamas and housecoat out in the front yard pointing at us and laughing like a crazy woman. The donkey stopped and I looked back up the hill and here comes Noble, laughing. He was kind enough to say that he had seen the donkey escape but had to get dressed before he could come out. As you have read, I got no respect at all. It may have been caused by the donkey but I made a complete ass of myself.

Dave Thomas
July 13, 2014

Republish date November 1, 2018