The ads on TV show families celebrating
Fathers’s day with happy Dads.
Barbeques and golf shirts show love.
Some families visit fathers in jail.
Some fathers who are not in jail
Are not visited or called at all.
Some fathers have abandoned their children.
Some children abandon their fathers.
It is not a happy day for everyone.
But thank God for devoted fathers.
There are tall tales about Pecos Bill, a famous Texan, like my own trophy wife, Miss Sugar. This here is a true tale about what I done, just like old Bill. I done it at the urging of Miss Sugar. I’d do anything for that gal.
The reason I am writing this now is that a good friend of mine called me to say he enjoyed reading Sharpshooter, which is a true story as well. His only question was why I used any tool to kill that rattler I wrote about. He asked that because, growing up with me and all, he is very aware of how quick I am. So is Miss Sugar. That got me thinking about what I done a few years back without no shovel, nor gun either.
If y’all have read some of my previous posts, you know that Miss Sugar and I live in…
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This is a repeat of a story about Woody to follow up on yesterday’s post, also starring King of the Wild Stallions.
Above is pictured the rare double-headed antelope photographed by Miss Sugar.
This week I published two posts about buffaloes and where they used to roam. Now we’re going to continue with the Home on the Range theme.
Miss Sugar and I live where the deer and the antelope play.
I am not sure what the songwriter meant because in my experience the deer and antelope do not play together, but they do kinda play within their respective species. While on the subject of species, I have been told that what the songwriter labeled as antelopes are technically pronghorns. Miss Sugar has studied up on all this and corrects me when I say antelope instead of pronghorn. I might have this wrong, but I think she said pronghorns are the fastest land animals in North America. Actual antelopes live in Africa or someplace outside of the Greater Livermore Metropolitan Area.
We…
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Some readers commented on my handsome steed pictured in yesterday’s post, so I am re-blogging some other stories about him. His name is Woody.
While I was in Cheyenne having breakfast with my cousin, Tom, Miss Sugar went out to catch a horse in our pasture. We have a good system — if you catch one horse, the others follow. Instead of me helping her, she had plenty of other companions — two yellow labs and a cat. 
Yes, one of our cats, Camo, likes to go on hikes with us. He also helps me get the horses. Sometimes they are a mile away. One of the horses, Woody, is interested in cats. He puts his head down by them and follows them. I worry that Woody might trample one, but so far that has not happened.
Beau, the male Lab, and Sadie, are more likely companions. It turns out that it was good they went along. Beau anyway.
Sugar told me when I got home that as she went through the gate between…
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“There are really only two kinds of people in the world — those who are cowboys and those who want to be cowboys.”
I was advised that I needed to be sensitive about transgender issues before I knew what the heck it even means. Well, that could be now as well because I still don’t have a very good understanding. Anyway, now that I have your attention, I will explain.
Before I started law school, I spent a year in seminary and, as part of that program, I was sort of an intern on the campus ministry staff of a university, providing “pastoral care” as an amateur. The campus pastor who was training me for counseling students at this selective school recognized that I was a simple lad with a naive view of life, lacking experience in many societal issues. Consequently, he was apparently worried that I would put my foot in my mouth due to a lack of sensitivity were I to encounter problems that certain students might want to talk about. Maybe he used the example I am about to relate as part of the orientation for each divinity student in the campus ministry, but I had the feeling that I was targeted as one in need of this particular example. I suppose I am glad that the chaplain assumed I had no experience with this issue. He was correct. I did not have any such experience and could well have said the “wrong thing.”
The chaplain said to me, “If a male student shares with you that when he is alone in his home, he likes to dress in his mother’s or sister’s clothing, don’t say that is sick, say, ‘Some people do that. Does it bother you that you like to dress in women’s clothing? Is that why you are here?’ ”
No, Bruce Jenner was not a student at that institution.
The cross-dressing issue never actually came up with any student during my stint at campus ministry. I decided to leave divinity school to go to law school. However, if Caitlyn Jenner wants to talk about it with me now, I am prepared. I will just say, “Some people do that.”
Then I might add, “You need professional help. You seem to be dealing with a serious mental illness.” Is that okay to say? Or must we all say, “I’m okay, you’re okay, and, by golly, it’s okay to think you are Napoleon too.”
In her dreams she envisions a place
Where artists can display their work
Where art classes are taught
Where art supplies are provided
And the produced art is sold
To patrons who sip sweet tea,
Or lemonade or espresso
As they make their selections
Not just on First Friday Gallery Walks
But daily.
So we found a place
And signed the papers
And started moving in.
My wife has the vision.
I drive the truck
And load and unload
And put up displays
For my wife, the visionary artist,
Because that is what
A husband is supposed to do,
For it is more than supporting
Dreams of my creative wife;
The real truth about marriage is —
In my dreams, her dreams come true!
Shootin' the Breeze 
Amazing Grace
Members of Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church in Charleston, South Carolina have amazed me with their gracious forgiveness. Many family members of those killed at the church last week appeared in court to face the gunman and communicated two important statements. They told the gunman of their pain from his murdering of their loved ones and they told him that, as Christians, they would forgive him. What powerful witnesses! If they can forgive when anyone would understand if they did not forgive, I ought to let go of my hurts to forgive those I have such trouble forgiving.
The rioters in Ferguson, Missouri could learn a lesson from the fine people of Charleston, South Carolina, who practice what they preach. Bless their broken hearts!