Dac Crossley's Western Blog

Dog Days Again

The sun is in conjunction with the Dog Star, Sirius. Dog days are back. Bright Sirius adds its heat to that of the sun. Or so thought the ancients. Indeed, it is hot out there.

 

I think back to childhood in Kingsville, Texas, playing with my brother, not really aware of the heat. That is, until you went into the Rialto Theater – the only air-conditioned place in town.

 

Bob G. asks where high school students find their summer jobs, in this new age, with OSHA and child labor laws? No more kids running paper routes; now, its adults in cars. No more lawn mowing; companies with riding mowers handle that chore. My friends tell me about dog-sitting jobs, life guards in the neighborhood swimming pool. Where do our youngsters learn responsibility, the work ethic? It’s a different time, a new age, a sea change. I’ll bet that there are some innovative youngsters out there, someplace.

 

Years ago at the University, I sat on the front row in a graduation ceremony, next to a guy wearing crimson robes. Our President Fred Davison gave the address to the grads. He said, “We must return to those principles that made this country great!”

 

And my neighbor jumped to his feet and shouted, “Slavery! Child labor! Killing Indians!” Davison glared at him. And at me, next to him.

 

Needless to say, I never again sat next to a guy wearing crimson.

 

But I wonder – and Bob G. would agree – have we gone too far with child labor laws?”

 

Dac

7/8/2009

 

“I wonder what it is the vintners buy, one-half so precious as the stuff they sell?” – Omar the Tentmaker.

Thoughts for the Fourth

Last month at the National Cowboy Museum in Oklahoma City, I saw statues of three iconic patriots, topics suitable for the Fourth of July.

First, to set things in context. Upon entering the Cowboy Museum you see a giant sculpture – “The End of the Trail,” from the Pan Pacific Exposition in San Francisco in 1915. 

This image of an Indian on his exhausted horse, defeated, head drooping and lance pointed down, was on the covers of our notebooks in grade school, so many years ago. Remember, old timers? Alabaster in the sunlight, it was the most impressive part of the Museum. 

And the patriots – there they were, large bronze images of John Wayne, Ronald Reagan and Charlton Heston, each dressed as a cowboy. Each of them did so much to promote America through their films. In western/action movies they gave the world, and ourselves, images of American courage under fire. They portrayed strong-willed, determined patriots. And each was a public servant, in his own way.

 

(Charlton Heston actually did military service in WWII, a sergeant in the Army Air Corps. The other two received deferments).

 

I asked the Museum guide, “Where’s the statue of Will Rogers?”

 

Don’t have one. Wouldn’t fit in. in He has his own museum. In Claremore.

How about Woody Guthrie? You know, This Land is Your Land?

No. No statue here.

 

Look, patriotism is about more than statues. We each love our country and defend it. We argue long and loud about our future direction, about guns and taxes, marriage and education. We sing about our land (with Guthrie) and laugh at our government (with Will Rogers). But when the chips are down, we’re all Americans and proud of it. And we celebrate America on the Fourth of July.

Do I sound preachy. Well, hooray! It’s my blog, ain’t it?

 

No, it’s not the End of the Trail. Not for us.

 

Dac

July 3, 2009

 

“Ninety percent of politicians give the other ten percent a bad name.” – Henry Kissinger.

Western Writers of America

I recently participated in the annual convention of the Western Writers of America, held in Oklahoma City. (I’m an associate member. I can apply for full membership when I’ve published five books). Joyce H. from Tulsa showed me around and helped me sell copies of Guns Across the Rio and Return of the Texas Ranger. 

This conference was vastly different from others I’ve attended. Usually you find wannabe authors talking with snooty agents and editors. Lectures about getting published, and how to get an agent. Not here, though, since all members were already published (and many of them self-published, as I am). The focus of the sessions was on western history, classic films and actors, history and status of ranching today. I was impressed by the demand for historical accuracy these writers expressed. Coming from all parts of the country and with different backgrounds, they professed a love for the West and its people. An evening western costume contest made me feel inadequate. 

 

One of the sessions dealt with writing in an Indian voice. The four panelists (Pawnee, Sioux, Crow, traditional enemies) said their culture is so rich, a non-native can’t accurately portray it. I was amused to see Lucia St. Clair Robson sitting quietly in the audience. She’s written Indian viewpoints admirably. 

For me, meeting Robson was a high point of the Conference. Her novel about Cynthia Ann Parker and the Comanches (Ride the Wind) is a marvelously rich treatment of a tale well known to us Texans. My favorite Robson novel is Walk in my Soul (see my Shelfari page), a novel of Sam Houston’s Cherokee Wife, Tania Roberts. It is a must read. My newly autographed copy sits on my "treasure" shelf, between Gregory Maguire’s Wicked and Stephen Hardin’s Texian Iliad. 

And what’s your summer reading?

Thanks, Joyce.

 

Dac

June 30, 2009

 

Ninety percent of the politicians give the other ten percent a bad name – Henry Kissinger.

With Only A Handshake

Overheard in Oklahoma City at the Western Writers of America Convention --

 

"West of Fort Worth, a handshake is as good as a written contract. East of Fort Worth, you better have lines."

 

My father told me that he bought his first car, a Model T, in Corpus Christi, with just a handshake. The dealer said, "You're Professor Crossley's grandson? He used to whip my butt in school. I guess you're okay." And that was it. Monthly payments made on time. 

Years later, I bought my first new car in Amarillo and sealed the deal with a handshake. I was $ 300 short of a down payment. The dealer told me, "Just send me a little money every now and then." I did, as fast as I could. 

Handshake contracts are more problematic with real estate, as Joyce H. recently pointed out to me. From San Antonio south, Tejano families typically exchanged properties without benefit of a written contract. Handshake deals can be hard to untangle where real estate is concerned. 

Are we past the point when you can look a man (or woman) in the eye, shake hands, and live up to a contract? I hope not. At least, not west of Fort Worth.

Dac

06/28/2009

"Try to leave out the part that readers tend to skip." -- Elmore Leonard.

A Tip of the Hat...

I’d finished signing my novels at the Watkinsville Arts Festival and was packing up to go home, when a man walked up and extended his hand. I grasped it and he said, grinning, “You are a true gentleman. Whenever a lady approached your table, you took off your hat.” He shook my hand and strolled away.

I guess he was right; I was taking off my hat. I never thought about it. Was I wrong to do that? Tip my hat to the ladies? 

It’s the way we were trained, most of my generation. Dad lectured me severely about doffing your hat to a lady, and I followed his example. He told me of his grandfather, strolling through Alamo Plaza, tipping his hat to everyone he met. I take my hat off indoors (well, usually), when the flag passes by, and whenever I talk with a lady. I open the door and step back, too. 

Is this politically incorrect these days? Am I insulting women, demeaning them, suggesting some kind of inferiority? 

I’ve had no complaints. 

But I wonder? My grandmothers wouldn’t go anywhere near town without hats and white gloves. My mother’s generation pretty much restricted the hats and white gloves to church. 

Ladies today? It’s been a long, long time since I’ve seen a pair of white lace gloves. 

Maybe I should look for them in church? 

Dac 

6/9/2009

Father’s Day is June 21^st. How bout a copy of Guns Across the Rio or the sequel, Return of the Texas Ranger, signed personally to your Dad? Send me an e-mail by June 14^th and I’ll snail-mail them to you. Fourteen dollars each, or the pair for Twenty-Five.

dac

 

 

Two Trees in a Texas Childhood

One tree a native to Texas, the other introduced, and both held in fond memory. One noxious and undesirable, the other useful for its wood. But which is which?

 A Chinaberry tree grew beside our little house on the west edge of Kingsville, Texas. It was the only tree in our yard of scraggly Bermuda grass (couldn’t call that a lawn). That was my first tree; I climbed into it, maybe six feet off the ground. My brother Walter and I played beneath it's shade, picking off the firm berries for our little slingshots.

 Walter and I finally claimed a big mesquite tree in the brush as our own. It was larger and much more suited to climbing. We built tree houses (again, six feet off the ground) and studied its blooms and seed pods. 

The chinaberry tree is called a noxious invasive species (Really? Stephen Austin introduced it into Texas, along with the Old 300 settlers. Also invaders?). Environmentalists say it’s weedy, spreads easily and crowds out native vegetation. Occasionally I see it here in Georgia, growing along rural fencerows and roadsides. Never in abundance. It makes me smile. The wood is supposed to be useful.

 Mesquite is a native tree, a long-time Texas resident, also useful. Living on Kingsville’s outskirts, we heated our little four-room house with mesquite. Mom headed tubs of wash water over a mesquite fire. And Dad made fence posts from its curvy branches. Mesquite thickets contain a variety of wildlife, too. But today, mesquite is considered a nuisance, invading pastures, difficult to control or eradicate. It is spreading throughout the southern part of Texas.

 Why is mesquite spreading today? Originally, south Texas supported extensive grasslands, with mesquite growing along the little creeks. Now, it marches into any abandoned pasture. Longhorn cattle, in the big cattle drives, undoubtedly spread the seeds throughout south and central Texas. Cattle get the blame, but is that the whole story? Mesquite today spreads without their help. Fire, of course, is necessary for grasslands to compete successfully with trees. Maybe we should burn our pastures every year. Would that work?

 Now, which of these tree species is the worst problem? The Chinaberry invader or the native mesquite? 

For me, neither one. I wish both of them success. Any living thing that thrives in drought-ridden south Texas has my admiration. 

Dac

6/1/2009.  Happy Birthday, Mary Freeman!

 

 

More Blackberries

Thanks to all who shared your memories of Blackberry Winter. 

No, Blackberry Winter is NOT a text messaging device.  Come on, youngsters! 

I wasn't referring to the Margaret Mead autobiography of that title, either, although it's a good read.  She visited us once here at the University of Georgia, a good speaker and a pleasant image.

 Milan D. in Prague sent me the following information about May cold spells in Central Europe. There, late cold snaps there are called the "Days of the Frozen Men," May 12 - 14.  Those three men are Saint Pancrace, St. Servais, and St. Boniface.  They are followed by Saint Sophia - May 15th --"The Cook," who usually brings heavy rains. 

Here on the Georgia Piedmont we're emerging from Blackberry Winter now, with rain forecast for the Memorial Day weekend (Saint Sophia, are you there?).  Temperatures rise slowly, seventy degrees here on the deck at nine a.m., very pleasant.

And so, a happy Memorial Day weekend to all, with the promise for a joy-filled summer ahead.  Let's have rain in Texas, warmth in the mountains, home-grown tomatoes galore in the farmer's markets. I harvested the first jalapeños yesterday!

Remember our servicemen and women on Memorial Day. Originally it was Decoration Day (remember, you old-timers?), designated to honor those who gave their lives for their country.  Hats off! Salute the flag.

dac

5/23/2009 

"My Country!  In her intercourse with foreign nations, may she always be right. But my Country, right or wrong!"  -- Commodore Steven Decatur

Fourteen Hours of Daylight

Today, those of us living in the Georgia Piedmont will begin to receive our fourteen hours of daylight, a sign of the impending summer season. This is my favorite season of the year. It's especially welcome because our drought here seems to be broken. I’m encouraged to work in the yard and garden once more, now that I don’t have to hand-water everything. So, now it’s the season to pull weeds. That’s done by hand also, of course. 

The little annuals -- the spring ephemeral weeds -- are easy to pull out of the soil. Like crop plants they put their efforts above ground; for them it’s produce foliage and then flower and seed, reproduce rapidly and get out. It’s the biennials and perennial weeds that build root systems; they plan to stick around. Try to get them while they are still little. It takes constant vigilance. 

And today comes Blackberry Winter, the last cold snap of the winter season. Along about mid-May here in the Piedmont, the last polar air mass of the year descends on us. Temperature this morning dropped into the low forties, according to my window thermometer. By tomorrow it should be closer to normal.

 Blackberries are in bloom now, as they should be. Do they need a little cold snap to set seeds? I wonder? 

We may yet have another little cold wave – Whippoorwill Winter, in the first part of June, when those birds return. Some years that snap is notable, too. 

But fourteen hours of sunlight looks good to me. 

Dac

5/18/2009. Happy birthday, Steve.

 

You cannot establish sound security on borrowed money – Abraham Lincoln.  (But did he tell Mrs. Lincoln?)

 

A Big "NO!" To E-Books?

I guess it’s unanimous. You like the feel of paper in your hands, not electrons. I agree – I prefer paper to plastic. My Kindle is a different experience but it can’t replace hard copy. 

The Kindle isn’t a failure; it’s another way of reading. One advantage – if you buy a book on your Kindle, it arrives in seconds. Another – you can subscribe to newspapers and magazines delivered to your reader. I think that e-readers and laptops will converge in their offerings. Classic works are now freely available on the web. It’s coming. There's a whole generation out there, texting, waiting. 

For now – just keep buying my westerns, please. 

A few notes: 

     I’ll be signing books at the Alamo on August 1^st. Let the word go out to the surrounding villages. All of you within a 200-mile radius – I expect to see you there.

       I agree with Colin F. The best part of my newspaper is the crossword puzzle. Online news can’t match that.

       Glenda Y. says that western books are popular items in her Kentucky public library. May their tribe increase.

      I’m off, in mid-June, to the Western Writers of America Annual Conference in Oklahoma City. To rub elbows with some iconic writers of western fiction. Look out, Joyce H., I’m headed your way!

 As old Roy R. would say – keep those cards and letters comin’ in.

 Dac

5/13/09 

“I may not have gone where I intended to go, but I think I have ended up where I intended to be.” – Douglas Adams.

My Bookshelf

My library is larger than it needs to be, considering that so much material is now available online. Will e-books become a dominant format for novels? What shape will tomorrow’s library take? 

I asked myself, which of my books would I keep on the shelf in any event – books I’ll open again and again? Here’s a few of them:

      The Eternal Frontier by Tim Flannery. This geological history of North America is so well-written, a pleasure to read. I keep sending it to skeptical friends. 

    Wicked by Gregory Maguire. The life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West. What an imagination. An amazing novel.  The Wizard of Oz, a great movie, will never be the same, once you've read Wicked.

The Dartmouth Bible. Now 60 years old and out of print, it’s still my reference work for things religious.

Texian Iliad by Stephen L. Hardin. The best history of the Texas Revolution. More than a recitation of facts, the book is crammed with fascinating local color and trivia, essentials for a Texas author.

 

Now -- What’s on your bookshelf, that you wouldn’t want to give up?

 

On a personal note – Return of the Texas Ranger, by Dac Crossley, has won the National Independent Booksellers Award (western category) for 2009. Permit me to take a little bow.

 

Dac

5/11/09 

“You can do anything you want to do as long as you keep a good attitude and keep working at it. But the second you give up, you’re screwed.”  -- Dolly Parton, quoted in AARP Magazine.