Saturday Morning

It is Saturday morning ... early ... I am washing clothes and watching an extremely historically inaccurate western on the TV. It is Comanche Territory with McDonald Carey. It is about Jim Bowie ... of Louisiana ... and the Comanche Indians of Texas (who dress like Dakota Sioux) ... filmed in Sedona Arizona .... it's the 1830's, the costumes are strictly 1880-1900 and the movie town is kinda of 1880's. Maureen O'Hara is the first liberated woman of the west I guess, ... owns the saloon and is the bank president. Typically 1950 western I guess.

The Air Show is in town this weekend ... we have the Blue Angels this year and not the Thunderbirds. Hilda and I will go tomorrow. The skies above Tucson have been really loud and busy the last couple of days.

I have to catch up on all my chores today, go to the library, buy groceries, etc. I have been really lazy of late.

I just finished reading a good article about my friend Dr Stanley McGowen, written by Stephen Stainkamp, I may forward it to a couple of friends. Stan says that the article deals mostly with what he's done since his accident and never touches on some things that he remembers fondly ... like our days in the Tombstone Wild Bunch, fighting each other in front of crowds. We had some truly great times in the 70's ... if a little juvenile and stupid at times. We lived life to the fullest, and often beyond. It is great to look back on, but I am not certain that I'd actually want to relive those years. It is an absolute wonder that we are alive at this juncture in time. We drank too much, partied too often, took too many chances and all in all lived precariously on the edge. We wrecked vehicles, collectively and individually, and drove much too fast ... often well over the legal limits of inebriation. God, or one of his lessor and more forgiving angels surely watched over us. We did not do anything bad to others, just had fun ... we'd survived Viet Nam and thusly we were 10 feet tall, bulletproof and would live forever. Hell, I'm 61 and a half and Stan will be 60 next month .... we have lived forever almost.

But do not write off "Valdez and Buttermilk". As the poets said, "we have miles to go before we sleep" ... "and we shall not go gently into that sweet night". But one day, if there be a heaven, he and I shall ride good horses through green fields with forests and rivers between us and the horizon and deer and bear shall fall from our rifle's crack. We shall eat venison cooked over mesquite and cold Shiner Bock shall magically appear from our saddlebags. Back at the ranch house ... several evenings a month ... our old and dear friends shall visit, singly and in groups. There will be much talk of old times, laughter shared, boasts spoken and lies told. Good food shall abound with beer, wine and whisky on the side board. Stan will have 20-20 vision and I shall possess the gait of a 20 year old. Everyone has a vision of heaven ... and mine has nothing to do with clouds, halos or wings. You can keep your streets of gold. my heaven has no streets. It is filled with conifers, mesquites, aspens and Texas red oak. It has God's creature in abundance ... but just enough people to make it habitable. The mountains are crisp and cold, the streams free running and clear and the veranda on the house is low, shady and filled with rockers. The Lord is just and loving ... and a cowboy at heart.

Love from the desert
Antonio