I would have ignored the doorbell. Not my wife. The knife salesman was already in the den before I could express my displeasure. His seersucker suit hung flaccidly in the Texas chill. Who the hell came up with that name for clothes? Seersucker?
The rain came under a ledge of gray clouds. The mountains could not stop it. The Blue Ridge turned a foggy face to the deluge and earned their name in somber hues above us. We sat on the front porch of a restaurant in Abington, Virginia, right off Interstate 81. The establishment had once been [...]
My wife and I once drove from Fort Worth to Colorado Springs starting at 9 pm, a dumb idea, even for people more stupid than I am. But we did it. We’d driven from college at the University of Alabama and visited my wife’s sister in Fort Worth for a few days (a time in [...]
A group of Bubbas and Bubbettes in Texas are crossways of the law over a little event called “The Texas Redneck Games” about 70 miles south of Dallas (a good place to have such a slap-yo-mama shindig, if my memory of that area serves me correctly). This drunken celebration complete with midday fisticuffs, midnight fireworks [...]
The old man slammed the sports section of the Fort Worth Star-Telegram down on the just-wiped table, took off his sweat-stained Resistol, placed it in the seat beside him and settled in with several other breakfast regulars in the cinderblock cafe near Fort Worth’s Stockyards.
I didn’t shoot J.R., but I was there – wearing a dead man’s suit.
It was hot enough to deep fry a 12-pound turkey under my arm when I got out of the limo in front of J.R. Ewing and walked into the North Dallas restaurant. The film lights and reflectors pushed it even hotter. Cameras [...]
Some people are food snobs. You know the ones, they run to the newest restaurant opening, fawn over the hot local chef, eat things that should be used as bait. I have never been accused of being a food snob. I have, however, been accused of many other food offenses, and eating at gas stations [...]
I once worked on several Western wear accounts, Justin Boots and Panhandle Slim PRCA Rodeo apparel among them. We’d shoot for weeks on Texas ranches with real, working cowboys or in rodeo arenas with rodeo cowboys. They are a tough bunch. I found out I wasn’t.
Grapevine, TX. Leroy, our shepherd/border collie best friend, was going crazy on the back patio. His intense barking dislodged in me the memory of a big, yellow cat that had stumbled over our stockade fence back in the winter. Leroy and the cat and me had tangled business ends during an extreme altercation. The cat [...]