My Stint as a Child Star

Most people do not know that I was a child star. It was a brief flame that was snuffed out way too early. I reminisce on those times with a bit of apprehension yet would not change a minute of it. It made me who I am today.

I started my career at KTVT in Fort Worth Texas. I was about six years of age. I remember being very afraid my first day at work. Would I do well? Will I be good enough for a long run? Will they let me play with the Romper Stompers? *Stands in dramatic Superman pose with fist on hips, looking into the horizon.. Yes, I was on Romper Room.

It was a whirlwind of activities. We had an excruciating schedule of two shows a day. I was a star and I knew it. As with other child stars, my behavior became the sum of all the pampering I received. The incident that ended it all was when I crashed my cardboard car into the one in front of me and dramatically screamed while falling to the floor. It would have been fine..had it been in the script but I was being a professional actor. Aren't you SUPPOSED to scream when you are injured in a car wreck? They had to stop taping to see what the heck was wrong with me. My Mother was given a lecture by the star of the show, Miss Mary Lynn. My Mother, always the typical stage mother, got me in the car afterwards and screamed...

"How could you embarrass me like that? Don't you know that this family depends on this job? We will be homeless if you get fired! You know your Father drinks all our money!!"

The only problem with that was that we weren't getting paid and my dad didn't drink. Mother always did have a flair for the dramatic.

I was a 'has been' before I was a 'been'. I longingly look back at it now. What heights would I have soared to? Where would I have been if my illustrious career had not been stymied by my impromptu method acting? Hollywood? Broadway?

I can see myself now..a brilliant career.. money, fame..stints in Rehab smelling of whiskey and regret... I could have had it all.

I would cry that life wasn't fair but I was given a great gift. I peeked when Miss Mary Lynn told us to close our eyes.. I saw where she hid her magic mirror.

My most Memorable 4th of July

I was about 8 years old. Back in those days, fireworks in the city were still legal, before fire departments got all uppity about house fires and burned off hands. We had a farm out in what was then, an unincorporated part of the city.

We always went out there to shoot fireworks on the 4th or New Years. No houses around.. just lots of prime farmland and livestock to burn down. This particular 4th of July was like others, as tradition would dictate, we fished all day while we ate, drank, and relaxed. At dusk it was time for fireworks! As was also tradition, my older brother would throw firecrackers at my feet to watch me dance and scream. That year, he didn't take into account that I was older and able invoke revenge. He was more than a little shocked when I threw one back. He panicked, danced a jig, screamed and stepped on the firecracker to stop it from exploding. After he quit crying I made sure that every time he looked at me, I had a grin on my face. It got a bit difficult to figure out what to do to make him look at me over and over but I was out for nothing less than his soul.

Well the day passed and it got late. The mosquitos came out and my jaws were tired from grinning for 3 hours straight. We started for home. We got everything unloaded (in other words, my mom made several trips to the car) but I had one problem..I could see there were still fireworks left. Ahhh the temptation..the gravitational pull..they beckoned to me..longingly..seductively.

"Biiiiilllll.... Biiiiilllllll... we have not served our purpose in life, you must purify us with fire or we will not see the promised land..It is your destiny as the chosen one..."

I couldn't take it anymore so I waited till my mother was in bed watching TV and I quietly slivered out of the house and into the backyard with the Kings treasure.. SPARKLERS!
I was going to write my name in the air! Make circles of fire! Burn my hands in multiple places! A few seconds after I lit the infernos of death.. I heard my name being called again.. only this time it was my mother. I didn't know what to do so I threw them on the roof of the house. I had to ditch the evidence.

My mother never caught on so I breathed a little easier..but not for long. We were in her bedroom watching TV when we heard a horrendous house shaking BOOOOOOOOOOM! the bedroom windows lit up like high noon and everything in the house went dark as to welcome the Four Horsemen of the apocalypse. I immediately knew I was guilty and I stared screaming 'I'M SORRY MAMA!! I'M SORRY MAMA!!... she looked at my tear streamed face and said "huh?"
I dove head first into the most dramatic soliloquy of my young life and told her, that I had thrown lit sparklers on the roof.

She looked at me again then got up to put on her robe in a remarkably calm manner considering we were about to be homeless.

When we got outside we noticed that every light in the neighborhood was off and I started bargaining with God to take me up.. NOW. I noticed a crowd of people gathering a few house up, no doubt a lynching was in the making.

Well, what really happened was that a drunk was driving down the road at a high rate of speed and rammed a telephone pole, breaking it in half and yanking the high voltage wires from the power transformers in our front and back yards. Dante's Inferno was indeed in my backyard, but I was not guilty of starting it.

I counted myself lucky that I wasn't to blame but what was my mom going to do now that I had confessed to a heinous crime? I pretty much figured I was going to be living with a professional band of pickpockets soon and breaking into song with redheaded barmaids. To my relief, she did nothing.. strange thing was that every time I looked at her she had a big grin on her face.. and I swear my soul itched..

Taking care of my dad

I take care of my 83 year old dad. The other day he told me he needed a bath. All I had on hand was Dawn dish washing liquid. I wasn't sure if it would work so I took him to the beach and poured crude oil on him.

My Vacation/Staycation pictures.!

Anyone know how to make postcards out of digital pictures? Some of my family recently went on a two week vacation and drove from Texas to New York. They sent tons of postcards to me and my Dad about every exotic thing they saw, went to, and experienced.

I can't afford any vacation. I'm very poor. I'm also very petty...So..I'm going to take pictures of various rooms in my house and yard, make them into postcards and show them where I've been while they were off gallivantin' around, havin fun and livin the good life.

I think I shall start with a picture of my television and write a little message on the back..

"I was on vacation too! Today, I rode to the top of the Empire State Building.. it was lovely. Oh and guess who I saw?!? Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks!! I didn't know they were an item! They were looking so intently at each other! SO romantic.. They had some kid with them but I didn't recognize him. See ya later Gator *giggles, Bill"

Next, I think, will be the Kitchen Stove.

"Oh my goodness, We ate here today! This is one of the most exclusive eateries around! They are so progressive, elite and hip, you get to cook your meal yourself! Isn't that just sooo fun?!? I even got to serve another patron. He was an elderly gentleman in his 80's. He was so hilarious too! After I served his meal he looked at me and said "Where the Hell's my drink?" I just laughed and laughed!
Well.. toodles! off to see more sights! Love and kisses, Bill"

Next, Hmmm.. maybe I could try an exclusive hotel AKA.. my bedroom.


"This is where I stayed the night. It was so nice.. Oh My Goodness! Strange thing..the bathroom was in the hallway... and I had to share it! Oh..This place was SO Bohemian! you'll never guess who was coming out the door at the same time I was going in!! THE LITTLE OLD MAN FROM DINNER! ROFL! Again, he made my sides ache with laughter when he said "Better light a match, butthead" LOLOLOLOL! Ohhh my, he was the most colorful man! Gotta Run! Au Revoir Mon Ami!!! Bill"

Well, you get the idea. They will get a good laugh out of it...I hope.

Can't Cook Worth a Darn.

I have an appetite.. a fairly big one, kinda the reason I'm a fairly big boy but I can't cook worth a darn. For some reason my thought process is "the more the merrier". I will add salt, pepper, thyme, marjoram, rosemary to food thinking "This is gonna be the best chocolate pudding in the world!!" Sigh.. you see my dilemma..


Say I was captured by some terrorist group because of my contacts in the political world (which means I read blogs) and was given the choice of making a tasty meal for them or being executed. I would just go ahead and wrap the blindfold around my own eyes to save the firing squad the effort and not even ask for a cigarette.

I go to cooking blogs and see a recipe that makes my mouth water but it ends up being my eyes that fall victim to the resulting stench of my culinary practices. I try to follow recipes to a tee but my measuring skills some what lack precision. If you're around while I'm cooking.. you hear a lot of things like "DANG IT!" and "ANYONE KNOW IF YOU CAN SUBSTITUTE CORRUGATED CARDBOARD FOR LASAGNA NOODLES?"

The big problem is that I take care of my 83 year old dad and have to cook for him everyday. I had to take over when the fire department came by to visit.. for the second time. He doesn't complain about my lack of skills, I'm not sure if it's because he doesn't wanna hurt my feelings or his taste buds died and are waiting for the rest of him to catch up. I've even tried yellin "BAAAM!!" but dad just hollers at me to watch my language.

I've prayed that God would help me make a delicious meal but he told me that peace in the middle east would be a twinge easier for him to accomplish.

In the meantime, I'm just gonna bide my time. One day I'll get it right. I'll make a 3 course meal fit for a king..probably right before I hear.. READY!.. AIM!!....

Male Puberty; Dangerous to Mothers?

Male puberty. It wreaks havoc on mothers everywhere. A mother in an exclusive Dallas suburb with a pubescent son could meet up with the mother of a teen in a third-world country and both would be digging through their translation books for the term ... “HE’S DRIVING ME NUTS!” If no translation books are nearby, the universal hand signal is to point at the young male, then with the same hand, bring the finger to your head and make circular motions around the temple area.

I was a good boy for the most part ... until puberty hit. I think a boy’s puberty is a pretty easy process to understand though. It goes like this ... a new hair pokes through the armpit, sending a signal (like a fuse) to a brain cell, which then explodes. The blast flings shrapnel to the decision-making cells, which also explode, producing black holes. The resulting black holes fill with very toxic gases, which must be expelled. The gases need to be coaxed out at times (like a duck call) by the boy cupping his hand on the inside pit of the opposite arm and pumping said arm repeatedly. This extraordinary process is hastened if other young males are close by. The louder these sounds are, the more males are attracted to it. When practiced in the visual perception of a parental unit, especially the female, it evokes loud responses such as “You’re just like your Father!” or “What’s happening to my sweet little boy?” The male parental unit reacts quite differently and usually emits a sound called “laughter.” The males will keep up this behavior until red-hot beams are emitted from the female’s eyes, withering the males into a useless substance.

I really don’t know how my mama got through it all. I put her through the ringer. Here’s an example of one incident. I found a bullet once. I had never seen a real bullet before. My parents didn’t have guns around the house. With the way they argued, if they’d had guns, we kids would have grown up in foster care. Anyhow ... I found the bullet on top of a shelving unit. It was hidden inside an old model ship my grandfather had carved. I think my grandparents DID have guns in the house—thus the reason I never met Grandpa. He obviously should have hid at least one more bullet in that ship.

Well, I had the overwhelming desire to hit the bullet with a hammer. Don’t ask why I did this. A boy’s thinking process is like this: “Bad idea ... bad idea … good idea!” All I know is that I heard a deafeningly loud bang. My mother rushed out to the back porch and asked me what was going on. I told her I had hit a bullet with a hammer. She just kind of stood there … then she goes:

Mom: “You’ve been shot.”

Me (defiantly): “HAVE NOT, HAVE NOT, HAVE NOT!”

Mom: “Then why are you bleeding?”

I looked down to see blood trickling down the leg of my white jeans. My leg then gave out from under me and I fell to the floor. I was convinced I was about to go meet Jesus face to face ... and I was pretty sure he was gonna be too mad to let me in.

Mama rushed me to the hospital and I was operated on. The only thing I really remember was being awakened, then brought home where my dad lovingly carried me inside the house from the car, gently laid me down on the couch, tousled my hair and said ... “You know I ain’t your real daddy ... dont’cha boy?”

I would eventually fully recover but still carry with me two small scars on my left leg as a reminder. Punishment? Well ... nothing really ... unless you count the subject being brought up at every single family gathering for the last forty years.

I honestly don’t know how Mama made it through three boys. One thing a woman must know about male puberty ... we never stop going through it. This is a scientific fact figured out by honest-to-goodness real scientists, who just happened to have tween boys.

MOMS! Do not be afraid! There is a solution! Wait for your mini-male to walk by and study him closely. Try to engage him in conversation. If he is hesitant to talk, give him a household chore. This will get him flustered and he will begin to loudly converse in an increasingly animated fashion. Your goal is to listen for breaks in his voice that fluctuate at least four octaves within a five-second time period. Also, look for extra hairs that may appear on his legs or face. If you determine that he is indeed beginning his decent into manhood, THROW HIM OUTSIDE AND LOCK THE DOOR BEHIND HIM.

Assure him you love him and occasionally throw him food (and by “occasionally” I mean every 5–10 minutes). Do not worry that you will be accused of child neglect because your male child will not notice he has been thrown out of the house—as long as you throw food to him. Puberty is well-known to cause temporary loss of hearing when an adult is talking, as well as an aversion to being in close vicinity to one.

This is an incomplete guide and there are many more processes that happen during this metamorphosis—but I am limited by time constraints and what feel like tiny explosions in my brain.

When did I become the estrogenally challenged crazy cat lady?

I have lived off and on in the same house I was brought to when I was hatched. I quit my job to help take care my 83 year old dad after he had a stroke. (you can see how THATS working out in another post)

I have also had the same neighbors since I was born. Mr."F" as I will call him, already lived there with his wife and daughter When my parents moved in. His wife passed away several years ago as did my mom. Mr F liked to feed feral cats that started showing up about 10 years ago. Now Mr F would cuss about them cats and say how much he hated them. He tried to hide it but we saw him feed those suckers out of a 50 lb bag of cat food every day. When you're 90 years old, the stealth mode on your body has pretty much petered out.

Anywho.. Mr F died last year. The cats didn't really notice that he was no longer around because they didn't leave, nor did they attend the funeral. They just laid all over his roof sunning themselves, murdering innocent squirrels and unsuspecting birds that were unfortunate enough to land anywhere in a two mile radius. If those cats were human, there's no doubt in my mind they would be teen girls because we KNOW how ruthless they are. I'm pretty sure there's one who has killed a few visiting cats. He looks evil. I can picture him saying "It rubs the lotion on it's body or else it gets the hose again..."

A few years ago, I counted 15 cats. Living on a very busy street, natural selection has weeded out a few and by natural selection I mean Fords and Chevys. There are about 5 regulars now. Sometimes visitors drop by, especially in the spring. I get lessons on the "Katra Sutra" on a regular basis.

I kinda started feeling sorry for the cats and I threw a little something to them every once in a while. Big mistake. It's not too bad but it sure does make your adrenaline get to pumping when they jump and hang on the front screen door at 3am to see if I'm home. I don't know why they don't just check to see if my truck is in the driveway.

Oh well.. summer is here.. more people are driving. As long as they keep crossing the street without a boyscout to escort them, the problem should take care of itself.