Monthly Archives: April 2017

Wednesday, April, 26, 2017 – 100 Days and How Many More Until 2020?

Wednesday, April, 26, 2017 – 100 Days and How Many More Until 2020?


I missed Kellyanne Conway’s report on POTUS’s 100 Days.

Do you know if it will be repeated and on what channel?

The Comedy Channel? Game Show Channel – Idiot Test or Family Feud?

The SyFy Channel or Fox News? They might be the same depending on your service.

Or should I just watch Sean Spicer’s “What I Meant to Say” WH press briefings on the news?

I did see where a group of wild hogs attacked several members of ISIS and killed them. I know that Texas has a wild feral hog problems. Couldn’t the US just invade ISIS controlled  countries with wild hogs?  Texas could send the state gun.


Tuesday, April 25, 2017 – The State Gun

Tuesday, April 25, 2017 – The State Gun

I miss one day of Here’s What I’m Thinking only to learn The Lone Star State will soon have a state gun. It is a cannon. Not a handgun. Not a revolver. Not a pistol. Not a hunting rifle. But a cannon. Kinda gives “Don’t Mess With Texas” a new meaning, doesn’t it? And is the state gun subject to open carry? You know some East Montgomery County folks will want to carry their cannon to town.

Have a booming day and God Bless Texas.

Angelina Elerby – The Texas Archives War. Austin, Texas Photo by me

Here’s to you, Mrs. Traugh. Renascence.

Here’s to you, Mrs. Traugh. Renascence.


“I know the path that tells Thy way

Through the cool eve of every day;

God, I can push the grass apart

And lay my finger on Thy heart!”

The day when Mrs. Traugh read the Renascence aloud to a bunch of unrulry juniors in English III, American Lit in 1966 at Magnolia High School was one of her favorite memories. To capture the emotions of a high school class as she did that afternoon extends beyond remarkable teaching.

Edna St. Vincent Millay is a great poet to study for both poetry and performance. It is said the best way to combine her poetry with performance is to listen to it as a class paying attention to the theatricality and the musical qualities of language.

Or just recall Wanda Traugh reading Renascence in English III, 1966. Magnolia High School. Magnolia, Texas.


By Edna St. Vincent Millay

All I could see from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood;

I turned and looked another way,

And saw three islands in a bay.

So with my eyes I traced the line

Of the horizon, thin and fine,

Straight around till I was come

Back to where I’d started from;

And all I saw from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood.

Over these things I could not see;

These were the things that bounded me;

And I could touch them with my hand,

Almost, I thought, from where I stand.

And all at once things seemed so small

My breath came short, and scarce at all.

But, sure, the sky is big, I said;

Miles and miles above my head;

So here upon my back I’ll lie

And look my fill into the sky.

And so I looked, and, after all,

The sky was not so very tall.

The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,

And—sure enough!—I see the top!

The sky, I thought, is not so grand;

I ‘most could touch it with my hand!

And reaching up my hand to try,

I screamed to feel it touch the sky.

I screamed, and—lo!—Infinity

Came down and settled over me;

Forced back my scream into my chest,

Bent back my arm upon my breast,

And, pressing of the Undefined

The definition on my mind,

Held up before my eyes a glass

Through which my shrinking sight did pass

Until it seemed I must behold

Immensity made manifold;

Whispered to me a word whose sound

Deafened the air for worlds around,

And brought unmuffled to my ears

The gossiping of friendly spheres,

The creaking of the tented sky,

The ticking of Eternity.

I saw and heard, and knew at last

The How and Why of all things, past,

And present, and forevermore.

The Universe, cleft to the core,

Lay open to my probing sense

That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence

But could not,—nay! But needs must suck

At the great wound, and could not pluck

My lips away till I had drawn

All venom out.—Ah, fearful pawn!

For my omniscience paid I toll

In infinite remorse of soul.

All sin was of my sinning, all

Atoning mine, and mine the gall

Of all regret. Mine was the weight

Of every brooded wrong, the hate

That stood behind each envious thrust,

Mine every greed, mine every lust.

And all the while for every grief,

Each suffering, I craved relief

With individual desire,—

Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire

About a thousand people crawl;

Perished with each,—then mourned for all!

A man was starving in Capri;

He moved his eyes and looked at me;

I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,

And knew his hunger as my own.

I saw at sea a great fog bank

Between two ships that struck and sank;

A thousand screams the heavens smote;

And every scream tore through my throat.

No hurt I did not feel, no death

That was not mine; mine each last breath

That, crying, met an answering cry

From the compassion that was I.

All suffering mine, and mine its rod;

Mine, pity like the pity of God.

Ah, awful weight! Infinity

Pressed down upon the finite Me!

My anguished spirit, like a bird,

Beating against my lips I heard;

Yet lay the weight so close about

There was no room for it without.

And so beneath the weight lay I

And suffered death, but could not die.

Long had I lain thus, craving death,

When quietly the earth beneath

Gave way, and inch by inch, so great

At last had grown the crushing weight,

Into the earth I sank till I

Full six feet under ground did lie,

And sank no more,—there is no weight

Can follow here, however great.

From off my breast I felt it roll,

And as it went my tortured soul

Burst forth and fled in such a gust

That all about me swirled the dust.

Deep in the earth I rested now;

Cool is its hand upon the brow

And soft its breast beneath the head

Of one who is so gladly dead.

And all at once, and over all

The pitying rain began to fall;

I lay and heard each pattering hoof

Upon my lowly, thatched roof,

And seemed to love the sound far more

Than ever I had done before.

For rain it hath a friendly sound

To one who’s six feet underground;

And scarce the friendly voice or face:

A grave is such a quiet place.

The rain, I said, is kind to come

And speak to me in my new home.

I would I were alive again

To kiss the fingers of the rain,

To drink into my eyes the shine

Of every slanting silver line,

To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze

From drenched and dripping apple-trees.

For soon the shower will be done,

And then the broad face of the sun

Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth

Until the world with answering mirth

Shakes joyously, and each round drop

Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.

How can I bear it; buried here,

While overhead the sky grows clear

And blue again after the storm?

O, multi-colored, multiform,

Beloved beauty over me,

That I shall never, never see

Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,

That I shall never more behold!

Sleeping your myriad magics through,

Close-sepulchred away from you!

O God, I cried, give me new birth,

And put me back upon the earth!

Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd

And let the heavy rain, down-poured

In one big torrent, set me free,

Washing my grave away from me!

I ceased; and through the breathless hush

That answered me, the far-off rush

Of herald wings came whispering

Like music down the vibrant string

Of my ascending prayer, and—crash!

Before the wild wind’s whistling lash

The startled storm-clouds reared on high

And plunged in terror down the sky,

And the big rain in one black wave

Fell from the sky and struck my grave.

I know not how such things can be;

I only know there came to me

A fragrance such as never clings

To aught save happy living things;

A sound as of some joyous elf

Singing sweet songs to please himself,

And, through and over everything,

A sense of glad awakening.

The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,

Whispering to me I could hear;

I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips

Brushed tenderly across my lips,

Laid gently on my sealed sight,

And all at once the heavy night

Fell from my eyes and I could see,—

A drenched and dripping apple-tree,

A last long line of silver rain,

A sky grown clear and blue again.

And as I looked a quickening gust

Of wind blew up to me and thrust

Into my face a miracle

Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,—

I know not how such things can be!—

I breathed my soul back into me.

Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I

And hailed the earth with such a cry

As is not heard save from a man

Who has been dead, and lives again.

About the trees my arms I wound;

Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;

I raised my quivering arms on high;

I laughed and laughed into the sky,

Till at my throat a strangling sob

Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb

Sent instant tears into my eyes;

O God, I cried, no dark disguise

Can e’er hereafter hide from me

Thy radiant identity!

Thou canst not move across the grass

But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,

Nor speak, however silently,

But my hushed voice will answer Thee.

I know the path that tells Thy way

Through the cool eve of every day;

God, I can push the grass apart

And lay my finger on Thy heart!

The world stands out on either side

No wider than the heart is wide;

Above the world is stretched the sky,—

No higher than the soul is high.

The heart can push the sea and land

Farther away on either hand;

The soul can split the sky in two,

And let the face of God shine through.

But East and West will pinch the heart

That can not keep them pushed apart;

And he whose soul is flat—the sky

Will cave in on him by and by.

Portland Head Lighthouse. Photo by me. 1975. My first visit to Maine.


Friday, April 21, 2017 – Softly Call the Muster

Friday, April 21, 2017 – Softly Call the Muster

The 2017 Texas A&M Muster will honor H. DuVal, Jr.’51, the author of The Last Corps Trip. His family and Aggies across the world will answer “Here” for him and all Aggies who marched in behind the band this year.

Photo by me. Bonfire Memorial. Texas A&M Campus.

The Last Corps Trip

It was Judgment Day in Aggieland

And tenseness filled the air;

All knew there was a trip at hand,

But not a soul knew where.

Assembled on the drill field

Was the world-renowned Twelfth Man,

The entire fighting Aggie team

And the famous Aggie Band.

And out in front with Royal Guard

The reviewing party stood;

St. Peter and his angel staff

Were choosing bad from good.

First he surveyed the Aggie team

And in terms of an angel swore,

“By Jove, I do believe I’ve seen

This gallant group before.

I’ve seen them play since way back when,

And they’ve always had the grit;

I’ve seen ‘em lose and I’ve seen ‘em win,

But I’ve never seen ‘em quit.

No need for us to tarry here

Deciding upon their fates;

Tis plain as the halo on my head

That they’ve opened Heaven’s gates.”

And when the Twelfth Man heard this,

They let out a mighty yell

That echoed clear to Heaven and shook the gates of Hell.

“And what group is this upon the side,” St. Peter asked his aide,

“That swelled as if to burst with pride

When we our judgment made?”

“Why, sir, that’s the Cadet Corps

That’s known both far and wide

For backing up their fighting team

Whether they won, lost or tied.”

“Well, then,” said St. Peter, “It’s very plain to me

That within the realms of Heaven

They should spend eternity.

And have the Texas Aggie Band

At once commence to play

For their fates too we must decide

Upon this crucial day.”

And the drum major so hearing

Slowly raised his hand

And said, “Boys, let’s play The Spirit

For the last time in Aggieland.”

And the band poured forth the anthem

In notes both bright and clear

And ten thousand Aggie voices

Sang the song they hold so dear.

And when the band had finished,

St. Peter wiped his eyes And said,

“It’s not so hard to see They’re meant for Paradise.”

And the colonel of the Cadet Corps said

As he stiffly took his stand, “It’s just another Corps Trip, boys,

We’ll march in behind the band.”

 – by P.H. DuVal, Jr.’51

Thursday, April 20, 2017 – 4.20

Thursday, April 20, 2017 – 4.20

My apologies. Apparently my computer took off the entire day of 4.20 with technical difficulties. I just came back on online. Probably the Russians. Either the Russians caused all of the technical difficulties or I forgot to post something on HWIT.

Jimmy Buffet – COTA – Austin, Tx 2014 – Photo by me.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017 – Back in the Bathroom Again.

Wednesday, April 19, 2017 – Back in the Bathroom Again.

The Governor of the state of Texas wants to address SB6 – AKA The Bathroom Bill. It is allegedly designed to protect children from transgender people who have to go to the bathroom by creating a different bathroom for somebody.

Personally, I am more concerned about needing protection from the heterosexuals in the bathroom or in the convenience store I happen to be in. I also have concerns about people who are paper certified crazy who can access guns, people running the public schools in general, people on the streets, people driving and talking/texting on the phone and a whole list of other issues that do not involved bodily functions.

Could the governments just leave our bodies and their functions alone? Doesn’t the state and country have enough issues without taking time and money to determine who urinates where?

Tuesday, April 18, 2017 – I Owe! I Owe! To the I-R-S I Owe!

Tuesday, April 18, 2017 – I Owe! I Owe! To the I-R-S I Owe! Do You Have Receipts? And Dwarfs? Dwarves?

If the plural of scarf is scarves, why isn’t the plural of dwarf dwarves? Perhaps it is.

Tax Prep Person to me yesterday: Do you have all of your legal drug receipts?

Me: Yes, Ma’am. I do.  One does not get receipts for your illegal drugs.

Just as the seven dwarfs sang while going to work in the mines (that would be the clean coal mines, with no insurance for black lung.)

I Owe! I Owe!

To the I-R-S – I Owe!

I ain’t got no deductibles so

I Owe! I Owe!

This is the actual letter I mailed to the IRS yesterday with my taxes and my voucher.

SUBECT:    Voucher Amount

To Whom It May Concern:

Enclosed is a check for $XXX. This is all of the money I am able to pay at this time. I shall anxiously await your multiple written communications and 35 or longer minutes on hold when I call to speak to a live person regarding additions to my existing payment plans.

Sincerely Yours,


Thursday, April 13, 2017 – Easter Photos from Long Ago.

Thursday, April 13, 2017 – Easter Photos from Long Ago.

Photo number – 1 – Isn’t my sister a cutie pie?

Photo number – 2 – Me! Let’s sit the baby on the hot metal car with the weird looking roof and wind shield and tube thing on the side. Be prepared to catch her if she falls.

Photo number – 3 – Taking rides on the giant Easter Bunny in Texas is something I have repressed. Here I am about to take off for a ride on the giant Easter bunny with a saddle. Very cute for a one two year old.

Photo number – 4 – Here is by sister Dale about to take off on her Easter bunny ride. Hysterical when you are fourteen and your sister posts it on her blog.

Once again. Why is my father standing next to the teenager when the closest person to the baby is my grandfather standing five feet away?

Have a save and blessed Easter.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017 – Finally Something Fun to WHOOP About.

Wednesday, April 12, 2017 – Finally Something Fun to WHOOP About.

HOWDY! The world news is about who is going to bomb whom and the WH Press Secretary continues to Splice history into a continued endless number of “What I meant was…” statements.  I decided to just skip on over to September and Texas Aggie football. I hope we are all still here to watch.

September 3 – @ UCLA – Bears will want revenge.

September 9 – Nicholls State – Do not be afraid of Kyle Field and The 12th Man. Although the crowd size is probably bigger than Thibodaux.

September 16 – LA-Lafayette – Remember Texas alcohol laws.

September 23 – Arkansas @ AT&T Stadium – The Hogs are always scary. But recruiting at Jerry World is fabulous.

September 30 – South Carolina – Uncle Will Muschamp might have found a home.

October 7 – Alabama – Jalen playing in his home state.

October 14 – @ Florida – Never yell for a team from Florida. Bad colors. Bad mascot.

October 28 – Mississippi State – May the team wearing maroon and white win!

November 4 – Auburn – A lovely autumn hair color.

November 11 – New Mexico -Tune up for Toddy and the Rebels.

November 18 – @ Ole Miss- Hotty Toddy, God Awmighty! Would so love to tailgate in The Grove and have my picture made with the William Faulkner statue on campus.

November 25 – @ LSU. So much more fun than tu and the burn orange on Thanksgiving. And much better food.

Texas Aggie Football – 135 more days! WHOOP!

Tuesday, April 11, 2017 – 11:01 PM – Barely, But Still Tuesday

Tuesday, April 11, 2017 – 11:01 PM – Barely, But Still Tuesday

I did not post a Here’s What I’m Thinking today. I started one, but was having difficulty finding something pleasant to write about. Even the weather was storming. So I took a nap.

When I woke up I tried again to post something. That was when I saw that WH Press Secretary Sean Spicer said “…Even Hitler did not use gas.” Sean, wherever you received your credentials and especially those in histories, please see if you or your parents can get their money back. Obviously, it was a waste of money because you are not displaying any learning that took place during that time or at any other part of your learning curve including today.

I took another nap.

While I am waiting for the pink moon, I decided to use the few remaining minutes and post something for Tuesday. I hope the pink moon is better.