From Lawton to Joplin: The Train Journey That Sparked a Lifelong Love

When I was just a sprightly young'un of five years, my Momma and Grandma whisked me away on a grand adventure. We boarded that mighty iron horse in Lawton, Oklahoma, bound for Joplin, Missouri, to visit my Aunt. It was the year 1951, and trains were the go-to choice for folks like us who didn't have the means to soar through the skies.

Now, I reckon I didn't have much sense of time back then, but I'd wager it took us a good 8 to 10 hours to reach our destination. As we chugged along, I pressed my nose against the window, mesmerized by the ever-changing tapestry of the countryside. The conductor, a kindly fella, would amble down the aisle, tipping his hat and exchanging pleasantries with my Momma and Grandma.

Then on one trip by, out of the blue, he turned to me and asked if I wanted to ride in the engine. My eyes lit up like fireflies on a summer night. "O WOW! WOULD I??" I hollered. Momma gave her nod of approval, and at the next stop, the conductor took me by the hand and led me to the engine.

There, I met the Engineer and his assistant, two gentlemen as fine as the day is long. For the next 30 miles, I sat in the Engineer's seat, grinning from ear to ear with the Engineer right beside me. "Look at me," I thought, "I'M AN ENGINEER!" We passed several crossroads, and the Engineer showed me how to blow the horn – three times for each crossing, to warn the good folks that we were barreling through. I blew that horn with every ounce of enthusiasm in my little body.

When we reached the next stop, the conductor returned and escorted me back to my seat. Before I knew it, he pulled a shiny silver dollar from his pocket and handed it to me. "When you reach 18," he said, "you come back and ride the train with me, and I'll give you another one of these."

Well, that was it – I was hooked! From that day forward, trains held a special place in my heart. I've been a train lover for life, and that silver dollar still brings back those cherished memories of my very first train ride.

Have a Good Week, Ya'll!

Embracing Serenity: The End of Worry

Well, partner, when ya've done all ya can, there ain't no use frettin' no more. We've all carried our fair share of burdens, sweatin' and strugglin', thinkin' worry might somehow ease life's troubles. But truth is, once our efforts are spent, ain't no point hangin' onto regret or sorrow.

Ain't we labored hard, pourin' our hearts and souls into chasin' dreams across life's uncertain plains? When the day's done and nightfall creeps in, why let doubt and fear take hold of our thoughts?

Worry's like a sneaky thief, stealin' our peace with its shadowy lies. When we've given everything we got, with all our heart and soul, shouldn't we find comfort in the quiet stillness?

We battle and toil, day and night, but life's a fickle beast, from dawn till dusk. When our best is done and destiny's claimed its due, why burden our souls with worry's cruel grip?

So let's embrace the gentle truth, that when we've done all we can, there's no need for pain. In acceptance lies a calm, gentle key, unlockin' life's essence, settin' us free.

Remember, friend, in the quiet of the prairie night, when the stars are shinin' bright, it's peace and acceptance that'll see us through.

Have a Good Week, Ya'll!

Pressure Cooker Tales: Life Lessons from Mama's Old Pot

When I was just a young’un, I recollect Mama’s old pressure cooker, sittin’ there on the stove like a trusty steed. She could rustle up all sorts of grub in that ol' pot. Now, for them folks who ain't acquainted with a pressure cooker, it’s a pot that’s sealed up tighter than a cowboy’s saddle. When ya heat that pot, the liquid inside (most often water) starts to bubble and turn into steam.

As that steam piles up inside the sealed pot, the pressure rises, like a herd of cattle pushin' at the gates. This here high pressure bumps up the boilin’ point of water, lettin’ it reach temperatures hotter than a desert noon.

These days, them modern pressure cookers come with all sorts of safety gizmos like pressure release valves, lockin’ lids, and pressure gauges. These here features keep folks safe by lettin’ them control and monitor the cooker’s pressure. Once the chow's done, ya gotta release that pressure afore crackin’ open the lid. This can be done by lettin’ it cool down naturally, like a settin' sun, or by usin' the pressure release valve for a quicker fix.

Now, do ya ever find yerself talkin’ to yerself? I sure do. I’m usin' this pressure cooker tale to explain why ya might catch me chewin’ the fat with myself. Ya see, my mind’s always churnin’ with thoughts, just like that pressure cooker. Thoughts of all kinds, many concernin’ other folks. When I chat to myself about these matters, it lets me boil down what I want to say and figure out if I truly believe what I’m thinkin’ on sayin’.

I reckon I’m a lot like that ol' pressure cooker. There’s always somethin’ goin' on in my noggin, and if I don’t handle it, the pressure just keeps buildin’ till I’m liable to blow my top like an atom bomb, and someone’s bound to get hurt. So, I choose the natural release method—talkin' out loud to myself, lettin’ the pressure off slow and steady. When I do this, I’m much more likely to speak in a gentler tone.

So if ya see me jabberin’ to myself, don’t be callin' the men in white. It's just me lettin' my thoughts simmer like a pot of beans on the campfire. By the way, if I ain't talkin' to myself I'll probably be awhistlin' under ma breath.🤠

Have a Good Day, Ya'll

A Gentleman's Gamble

In 1967, on a frigid evening in Abilene, Texas, I received a call to a club on Butternut Street about a man brandishing a shotgun. It was Billy Ray, a decorated ex-Vietnam Army Ranger known for his formidable presence and fierce reputation especially fighting with the Police. With backup nowhere in sight, I faced the situation alone.

Arriving at the club in mere minutes, I found Billy Ray standing guard, his shotgun a threatening barrier. Despite orders from my Sergeant to wait for backup, I knew time was of the essence. With nerves of steel, I approached Billy Ray calmly, my gun holstered but ready.

"Billy, you can't do this," I started, my voice steady. "It'll mean another prison stint. Why not prop your shotgun against the building and let me take you in for disturbing the peace (a misdemeanor)?"

To my surprise, Billy Ray complied, placing the shotgun aside and allowing me to pat him down. Relieved, I escorted him to the squad car, where Billy Ray, curious, asked, "Aren't you gonna cuff me?"

"Is it necessary?" I replied, hoping to maintain the fragile trust we had built. Billy Ray sat in the passenger seat, and I stowed the shotgun in the trunk. Once in the car, I moved my weapon from my holster to my belt away from his reach.

As we drove to the station, my Sergeant's voice blared through the radio, "Adams! Did you search him good? He's known to carry a pistol and a knife!" Tension filled the car. I turned my head toward Billy Ray cautiously. In a tense moment, Billy Ray mimicked a gun with his hand, shouting, "BAM." Anger flared in me, but I restrained myself, reminded by my core belief in treating others with respect. Billy immediately began apologizing realizing I had already drawn my weapon. 

At the jail, Billy Ray requested, "Officer Adams, will you cuff my hands behind my back? You've treated me decently but I have a reputation to uphold." Relieved, knowing that to bring anyone into the Jail area uncuffed was a violation of departmental procedure, I cuffed him and led him through the doors. As we entered, Billy Ray launched himself into several officers booking their arrestees. With his hands cuffed behind his back Billy Ray fought the officers with all his might. I stood back and watched in disbelief. "Was this the same docile person I had just brought to jail?"

After the chaos, with Billy Ray covered in cuts and contusions, I asked, "Billy Ray, why did you do that?" Billy Ray's response was simple yet profound: "Officer Adams, I have a reputation to maintain, but you treated me like a man. I respect you for that."

The moral of this story is clear: "Treat a person with respect, and you'll "most" always deal with a respectable person." This principle guided me through a perilous situation and throughout the remainder of my life, highlighting the power of respect and understanding in even the most challenging circumstances.