Important Past

I am 77 yrs old and soon to hit 78 and reflecting on the past becomes increasingly important to me. As I sit here typing my thoughts today I am well aware at this very moment

my youngest son and his wife are flying off to Washington D C on both a business and pleasure trip.

I visited Washington D C once but for the life of me I can’t remember when or how. All I remembered of the trip, and it is very vivid in my memory bank, I visited the Vietnam Memorial, and I do believe it was the only site I did visit or at least remember.

Back in my latter high school days as a member of 43 in my graduating class we had a basketball team that was pretty good. Iowa did not have a class system ( A, B, or C ) for ranking so a school representing a town of about 600 and surrounding farming area progressed through year end tournaments to eventually compete against bigger and bigger and bigger school systems. Our pride was that we made it to State Tournament having won District, then Regional, and finally on to State. My bride and partner of today was Kathleen, one of three cheer leaders. I was part of the five starters and our bench was not very deep. Those from our followers who didn’t make the trip to Des Moins were glued to the radio as we advanced through State Tournament play only to be let down just a little as we lost in the finals both our junior and senior years. I remember the welcome home when our bus load of players and a bus load of fans were led down main street by the town fire truck and town police car with sirens blaring and lights flashing. Pride in the eyes of those lining the street for us who had gone so far.

Now back to Washington D C. I remember walking up to that Vietnam Memorial and seeing that sad but awesome display of names by the thousands of deceased soldiers, all in alphabetic order, chiseled out in that one contiguous black slab of stone. As I carried my piece of paper and pencil I found the name I was looking for.

David Mueller, was our point guard from that Iowa Basketball Team. He was the shortest player of any of us standing only about 5′ 6″ but he made up for his height by amazing skills as a leader of the team. He could feed the ball to any of us who got open for a shot like non other. David lost his life after being drafted for Vietnam shortly after we graduated High School. It was reported that he drowned while crossing a river in the Mecong Delta of the Vietnam Jungle

I placed my paper over his name, and rubbed with the pencil so as to record it on the paper, I remember tears streaming down my cheeks. It was probably one of the most emotional memories that I have from my past.

Funny how events of today trigger thoughts and memories from ones past, both happy and sad. Travel Safe Bill and Heidi. I am thinking of you today.

Sad To Say ‘So Long’

The hardest thing I have had to do lately is to say good-by to the rig/boat that has given me so many memories, especially in Texas. So many people have complemented me on my boat. Its ability to get me to the fish and then safely see me back home again, will never be forgotten.

I knew from the minute I spotted this boat in Iowa and learned its history before purchasing it, that it was going to be the boat for me. Every Guide on Falcon Lake in Texas knew who was sitting in the front seat of this little ‘Mini Pontoon’ jerking fish, and they all became my friends. I will never forget the conversations and waves we shared over the years in Texas.

Pulling this little boat from Texas to Washington with the hopes of getting in years of fishing at its new home, proved lacking. After all, how can one go from catching monster Bass and limits of 2 lb crappie in Texas, to striking out time after time here in Washington, and ever hope to be enthused. It was time.

Good-by, My Friend.

So Long

From the Backyard

Momma Squirrel

I often just sit in my lounger in the ‘Backyard’, surrounded by the flowers that I have planted and the ones that I talk to, water, weed, and mostly wonder, ‘Why did/do I bother’. Frequently I am visited by the momma squirrel and sometimes by the male squirrel. Rarely by both at the same time cause momma is still trying to figure out how did those little squirrels end up in the nest. Until she figures it out I suspect she will continue to chase him off, well, at least until the next time she gets to feeling amorous. Then the cycle will start all over again.

I am reminded of the time many yrs back when while camped for three days in an RV park high in the Cascade Mountains I was being scolded by a little Pine Squirrel, I suspect because I had invaded his territory. As a piece offering I threw him a peanut, which he promptly picked up and scampered off to either eat it or hide it. I, while sitting at the picnic table soon learned that his scolding now sounded a bit more like “give me another one”. Long story short in just a few tries I had him jumping up on the picnic table, and picking his next peanut out of my breast pocket. He had diligently watched each time I had previously pulled one from that pocket.

Pine Squirrel Peanut Stealer

On the fourth day after helping this little Pine Squirrel out with more peanuts than he could possibly need for the whole winter, I was preparing the RV to travel on to our next destination and with much loud scolding and foot stomping on the picnic table from my new friend I was aware that he was not happy with my leaving. I bid him a fond farewell and thanked him for the friendship as we drove away.

Now today in the ‘Backyard’ I am slowly working with this momma squirrel on the little feeding station to accept my offerings of peanuts and perhaps one day I will make a new friend.

To Do It All Again ?????

I have been thinking a lot lately about if I could do it all again would I do it the same or would I have perhaps been better off following a different dream?

I wanted early retirement after stumbling through a couple different careers, so at age of 60 I decided to act upon the dream of buying an RV, selling all assets, including out beloved river home, and becoming a traveling nomad in the RV. It took a lot to convince my life partner that we should do it.

Our two boys, now settled in their own lives and families, had took up residence many miles from the old home stomping grounds, and therefore the decision was somewhat easy.

Off we went, wheeling that beautiful Motor Home all over the North American Continent, Canada, and Mexico. A different backyard on any day that we decided to move, as for the most part we followed that perfect temperature of 72 degree’s.

I couldn’t even conceive of recanting all the beautiful adventures we had. It would take up someone’s entire computer memory if I were to post every back yard we were so lucky to witness. The friends we made and then catalogued while hoping that our paths one day would cross again.

Now with all that behind us. The RV sitting on the second of consignment lots, still unsold, and we seemingly in limbo residing in a place that keeps us comfortable, warm, dry and very bored, and wondering === should we have followed a different dream?

I am hoping that second guessing myself at this stage of my life is normal and that trying to figure out what a different dream would have looked like is OK. Thinking it through, I do believe the choice of dream to follow was correct, as I have only, through memory breached the very beginning. As each past chapter tip toes through my brain, I sometimes see myself sitting in that beach chair, with margarita in hand, on some south sea island, watching my life partner frolicking in the wash of the sea.

Dreams are worth having, aren’t they?

Kathleen’s Imagination December 2007

Don’t leave me my darling
Come Back my Love

Kathleen here,

The plan, always, is to drag our chairs, our books, our sunscreen, and our bottles of water down to the beach and enjoy a lovely afternoon of relaxation. And this we do. The blue sea, endless and beckoning, its waves crashing to shore, each with a different style, a different sound, a different purpose. But the many times we have been to the beach, I have yet to pick up a book. I have not closed my eyes for a quick siesta.

I cannot pull my eyes away from the surf, as it is mesmerizing. The last time we were there, my attention was given to a couple of coconuts that had found their way to the shore. They were bouncing and rolling with the waves, as if they had together planned a day of fun in the sun.

I imagined them being lovers frolicking in the surf. One was caught by a wave and rode it high until it was dumped onto the incoming rush. He then rolled until the wave deposited him onto dry sand far up onto the beach. His mate bobbed in the surf and caught a wave as she called for her lover to join her. She rolled and bounced, attempting to reach him, but the surf only pulled her back again into the sea. Soon a crashing wave rolled in far enough to catch him; he grabbed it and was washed out to her. They again played together enjoying the cool sea. Another roll of the sea and she found herself on the sand. She watched him as he was tossed about and calling to her. Occasionally they both were together either in the waves or on the sand. But they were never close enough for an embrace.

This continued for the duration of our visit to the beach. As the afternoon passed, the waves grew stronger and fiercer. One of the lovers got a little too far out. Her mate rolled and twisted on the sand trying to catch an out-going wave, only to be pushed higher onto the beach. I could imagine his calls to her as he watched in horror. She continued to bounce and with futile attempts, she was pulled further and further away. A wave finally caught him, and he pushed to reach its peak. He threw himself out to her with a frantic heart and sickening fear. But she was nowhere to be seen. The under tow had swept her beyond the protection of the small cove and had sent her tumbling onto the rocks. His attempts to join her beyond the barrier of those rocks, was in vain.  He was sent rolling, as the waves spit him out onto the sand.

As we prepared to leave, a wave rushed ashore and he soon was on it gaining speed and heading out to catch a climbing roll to the sea. I turned and watched him, as we climbed the steps to our car. He was bouncing and turning, calling, and crying for his beloved.  At last, I saw her. She had made it to the safety of the beach away from the fierce waves and the rocks. But jagged rocks now separated them. She was calling to her love, trying to be heard above the crashing sound. She was safe. Did he hear her? Was he trying to catch the wave that would carry him to her? My hope is that they would find one another and the sun would set as they finally shared an embrace.

George, who has not the imagination that I have, had one remark after reading my story.

“I wonder if one of them could have been Wilson?” Copyright Kathleen M. Brosius – December, 2007

A Missed Friend

When one reaches the ripe ol’ age of 76 one has had many friends. I know some of you find that hard to believe, that I actually had friends, but I did. The friend I speak of was somewhat recent in the scheme of things.

Our Foray into several years of living in Zapata Texas and enjoying some world class Bass fishing led me to meet and become friends with one of the partners of the Zapata Texas Tackle Shop ( Falcon Tackle ). James and his brother Tommy own and run the shop.

In addition to the shop James writes, edits, and publishes a blog which primarily is a current fishing report of the fishing activity on Falcon Lake. James has, shall we say a colorful way of presenting the report and after covering the fishing report he quite often ventures off in a political rant direction.

Caution: I am about to present a quote of James’s most recent Lake Fishing Report and the colorful way that James is known to express himself may be a little too colorful for some. So … if you can’t handle a little ‘color’ and some man talk language. Don’t read on. Remember 99.99999 % of those reading James Fishing report are men.

The following is from the Feb. 4th 2021 report: “I quote”

We are droppin in water level daily, and currently we are sitting at 261.12, just a shade over forty feet low.. No real water in the pipeline and where we are headed is anybody’s guess as irrigation season has begun.

We are still a long way from the record low of about 54 feet. And we will always have a place to launch to that point.. I did it for years when it was happening.. Although it has been so long I have tried to forget about it.

But this spring is going to be interesting as Amistad is currently not helping with any beneficial releases.. And my perennial suggestion that we drain Amistad has never gotten any traction..

Don’t get excited Amistad fans.. We know we are always sucking the hind tit..

We’re going on eleven years since our last fillup.. Way overdue.. I know it is going to happen.. And I hope I’m still alive and able to fish it when it does..

Because a year or two after it does it is going to get stupid.. Just like it always has.

You can’t run a Russian boar thru the top fifteen feet of what would be pool level.. The bush is thicker than that of a seventies Playboy centerfold..


It’ll take a hard man to penetrate that bush when it fills up.. But hell yeah I’m going…

Being old and decrepit has its advantages I guess.. As I got my first dose of the Whoohon virus shot this week. I have had no side effects and the only thing that hurt was ripping the band-aid off..

I think they used Gorilla glue on that motherfucker..

It surprises me to hear from a lot of folks that they will not be taking the inoculation.. I guess I can understand the skepticism, because skepticism is my middle name.

But I think in this case, if you can get it, get it..

I’ll let you know if I start acting like a cockroach or anything..

Glad to see ol Dementia Joe rolling out his plan on combating the Whoohan..

Did you miss it? Shit I did too..

Good thing Trump had all the pieces in place to get this shit headed in the right direction..

Cause so far this new administration looks like the parking lot for the clown cars.

And one more thing.. Being they have a fence around the capitol, why don’t we lock that fucker from the outside.. Keep all them loony son of a bitches locked up and let the National Guard keep them in.

What’s going on is truly a shit-show..

I see AOC took a page from the Hillary play book, telling how she was pinned down during the capitol siege.. Yeah bullshit.. Like when Hillary landed in the helicopter under fire in some shithole country..

Yeah.. That didn’t happen either..

Gonna be some interesting times ahead..

The battery is a little weak, but I think I see some light at the end of the tunnel..

So hang in there.. Keep the faith..

And tell them to take their idea of unity and shove it up their ass..

And get yours down here and catch some fish..

” End of Quote” James doesn’t have a set schedule of when he publishes his blog entries, but he writes often enough that those of us who likes what he writes and agrees with his stance on the issues of the day book mark him and check in for the latest when we can. I’m no longer in need of the fishing report from Falcon as those are days gone by for me but to know that there is still one more person beside me who politically feels, ‘well, shall we say Pissed’, then I will continue to check on his ramblings.

In this his latest blog, I agree with everything James expressed, except getting the Woohan Vaccine. In my opinion, that, they can stick up their ass.

Post Script: I miss my Friend James and even though our paths are unlikely to ever cross again I know that he will continue to keep pointing out that there is “light at the end of the tunnel.”

If so inclined, you can access James’s blog here:

Signed, Sealed, Delivered — Follow up.

I really do not know how to start this blog but I just know that I must. In the previous blog to this one I went out on a limb (something I don’t always do) and described a TV series of 11 episodes, followed by 11 movies that continued to play off the original series. The limb I went out on was to recommend anyone reading my blog, should if possible try to find the series episodes and movies, and watch them if at all possible. If you are confused at this point I invite you to read my previous blog posting, titled the same as above, and read it for clarification.

Now I can once again state in this paragraph I really do not know how to continue with this blog or even if I can exit my comfort zone of the big, sometimes ornery, usually outspoken, overly opinionated, gruff, and a zillion other descriptive adjectives that would probably fit me quite well. None of which I cherish to admit to, however that description of me has to precede the rest of this blog.

I found something in myself watching these 22 flicks that I always knew was in me, but as we tough exterior guys, prefer to hide. I don’t even know how to describe it but I must try.

Kathleen and I watched all 22 together, we could laugh together when laughing was in order, we could (maybe not right away) , compare notes about what we had just watched. Kathleen could openly cry when crying was in order, I could look away from her as we sat together on the couch watching while raising an arm to conceal the tears running down my cheeks. And —- that is how we enjoyed the TV time.

Later, I found that I could recall bits and pieces of an episode, but I desired to be sure I hadn’t missed anything, so I took to watching them over and over, and yes each time I saw the episode or movie again, I saw things I missed. I can not for some reason get enough of watching them over and over where as Kathleen lets me do my thing as she plays on her computer and ignores what I am up to.

I honestly do not know how to analyze my behavior, other than perhaps it has something to do with the crazy feelings and emotions that someone like me ( gruff, ornery, outspoken, opinionated, ) has while and after watching these brutally honest life changing episodes/movies.

The watching of these has taken place following a very confusing time in history for someone like me. Someone content with the direction of the world around me for the past four years and looking forward to that comfort to continue for perhaps the rest of the time this 76 year old (me) has left on this planet, only to have the very recent past ripped out from under with a changing of the guard, and an equally confusing time with a flu/pandemic that I preferred to call a PLANDEMIC.

Remember, I’m tough, It’s easier to be pissed, angry, willing to verbally kill, and striking out at any little thing or sentence that someone puts forth in Face Book. That to me became my refuge, my comfort place with all the hurt and hate I was experiencing.


I started to watch Signed, Sealed, Delivered ( all 22 offerings ) over and over. I found I could put all the anger, and desire to strike out, on the back burner if not for just a while but maybe even longer, if I could wrap myself around what was happening in the lives of four unlikely unique characters like, Oliver, Norman, Rita, and Shane. These four while facing the challenges of finding not only the person who wrote a long lost letter, but trying to deliver it to whom it was written to, and the twists and turns that could take along the way to those involved, but more than that, how the lives of the four became more and more interwoven as events moved forward with the challenges entrusted to them.

This became a powerful release for me. To watch them over and over and let my emotions pour out as each episode dictated. I know that some people who read my blog do not have perhaps the capability to access the 22 episodes and some who do. have no desire to seek them out and that is fine. I understand. I am just content to know what four people, their lives, and their adventures, have meant to me.

I don’t know when I will discontinue watching them over and over but one thing for sure, I know that I desire to become a more mellow person and I believe eventually that may happen.

The world can only hope so.

Signed, Sealed, Delivered

How does someone of age 76 and a little technically challenged appeal to others to try something that might be just a little technically challenging?  I confess, I don’t know, but I have this desire to try.  If I have not peeked your curiosity at this point, just scroll on and pay no attention to the me or the following:

Kathleen and I have spent the first half of this month binge watching a made for television series with 11 first season episodes, and then 11 more episodes that are not part of the series but were produced following an insatiable demand by the public for more.  Now, understand that these were not done yesterday but rather back around 2014 or so.  In addition they were all done for and produced for the Hallmark Channel.  I know, boring, you think.  No Sex scenes, probably pitted deep with intrigue, perhaps a tearjerker or two, love triangles, etc, etc, etc,.  You would be right.

The 22 episodes are titled, “Signed, Sealed, and Delivered”.  They are currently being shown on “Amazon Prime” and are free to watch until Jan. 31st, when I believe they will begin charging to at least watch the last 11 episodes.

My purpose for bringing this to your attention is to try and encourage anyone with a Prime Amazon Membership, a smart capable television, and the technical savvy to accomplish accessing them, to do so if you can.  I promise you, if you can get through the first three episodes of the series and then not desire to binge watch the remaining 19.  I will “eat my shirt”.  Well not really, but you get my meaning.  Those of you that neither have Prime, nor a smart capable television, or the savvy to pull it off, if you can locate this series of 22 episodes anywhere, even if you had to pay $100.00 per episode, I would recommend them highly. 

The four characters featured in each episode’s lives intertwine.  They are Oliver, Norman, Rita, and Shane.  There is a story within a story in each episode.  One of the stories is, what these four have to solve, the other story is what happens with each of their lives going forward with each episode.  I promise you, it is,  ( well, I don’t even know how to describe it ) one heck of a lot to absorb as it pulls you from one episode to the next.  I challenge you to watch all episodes.  You will not be disappointed.  I promise.

King Tides

King Tides are abnormally high tides generally accompanied by high winds and usually occur two times annually. We have just currently experienced the second king tide of the year 2020 on Dec. 14th and 15th. Click on the following link to see some amazing pictures we took.

Hope you enjoyed your look at this KING TIDE event.

Nov. 26th 2020

About A Special Friend

Chuck Gibson

Chuck who you see pictured above was a musician who traveled with some of the big name bands back in the day as a lead guitarist and singer. Chuck Gibson was his stage name. His real name is Charles Lieurance.

The real story is how I met Chuck and how our friendship grew over time. It was a complete stroke of fate many moons ago. Kathleen and I were living and traveling full-time in our RV and happened to land in Zapata, Texas for the winter. I was in to doing Karaoke on the internet as a hobby (never very good at it, but just having fun). Through Bass Fishing I met a fellow fisherman who had a park model on a lot overlooking the water of Falcon Lake and we got to talking about Karaoke. He told me that he liked to sing and I was invited to bring my internet computer gear over to his place one evening as he wanted to see how I was doing it. Kathleen and I joined George and Lucy on their patio outside and as the wives talked, George and I played around singing a few Karaoke songs as I introduced George to the internet program I was using.

It was getting late in the evening and had turned quite dark when out of the darkness appeared a hunched over figure of a small man navigating with a walker, and much effort. He asked what we were doing and I told him we were singing some on-line Karaoke. He pondered that for a moment and asked If he could maybe try it. I said sure, gave up my seat to him, and asked him what song he would like to try.

Chuck said, “I just recently lost my wife to cancer and as I cared for her in her last days she would often ask me to sing to her. The one she always requested was a Willie Nelson song. ” Always On My Mind.” That was an easy song to pull up on the system. I handed Chuck the microphone and said, “when I hit this button, get ready as the words will appear here on the computer screen.” I do not know why to this day, but I hit record, rather than just hit the button to play the music and allow singing. The music started, and one of the most beautiful voices I have ever heard, began to sing. The wives turned their attention to listen, George and I sat awe struck as Chuck sang with so much feeling. I remember looking at him, his eyes were closed, as he didn’t need to see the words. There was a tear sliding its way down his cheek and I won’t lie. There were a few other cheeks with tears streaming down as well. I of course have saved that recording on my computer and will treasure it for as long as I live. I am going to show the link for it below so you too can enjoy it. You will need your sound turned up as the recording from that night was a little soft. Enjoy.

My Friend Chuck Gibson

It turned out that Chuck lived in a tiny twenty five foot trailer next to George and Lucy’s park model but they had not really got to know each other yet as Chuck pretty much had kept to himself. It was our music attempts that drew him out.

Rather than bore you with too much detail, over several years of traveling to Zapata, Texas and spending winters, Kathleen and my friendship with George and Lucy and ultimately with Chuck grew through music and of course food. George, being a true socialite, was known by many in the RV park and he would jump on his golf cart, make a run through the park, letting everyone he saw know that tomorrow night he was going to do fajitas and everyone was invited.

George and Chuck heading out to invite all to Fajita Night

The event called fahita night was every Wednesday night. George would furnish the grill, meat, etc., and usually everyone would bring a dish to pass. The Karaoke was always fun as others beside myself and George would join in. Eventually, Chuck with his guitar and ampliphiers would show up and of course he then became the headliner for the night. This continued on each Wednesday night for several years during the winter months and the entertainment that Chuck so freely provided will be remembered by many. Our gatherings grew from just a few to upwards of 30 to 40 couples at times.

From the very beginning Chucks health was starting to deteriorate. He would entertain with endless songs that were not karaoke, but rather, him picking the guitar and singing from memory. Always a couple of beers near by his feet as he would often pause and say, “time to wet the whistle.” There was always respectful silence from the crowd as he sang and always the night was filled with requests from the crowd. I can hear them now, “would you sing,” Heart-aches By The Numbers, I’m so Lonesome I Could Cry, Your Cheatin’ Heart, Help Me Make It Through The Night, Kansas City, Welcome to My World, and one of my favorites, Long Gone Lonesome Blues, and on and on. Chuck rarely ran out of songs and his guitar skills were excellent.

Chucks deteriorating health eventually caught up with him and he moved away from the RV Park to live with his Daughter and Son-in-Law. Our gatherings at George and Lucy’s Pad eventually ended as well

Kathleen and I treasure those memories, those gatherings, those friendships, but most of all the opportunity to enjoy a mans continued attempt to entertain. He always got a twinkle in his eye as he took that last sip of beer and began to play.

Thank You Chuck.

PS: Chuck cut a demo record in Nashville in the 90’s as he and other entertainers tried to make it a hit. Chucks rendition was not chosen by the DJ’s of the time, but John Schneider, of the Dukes of Hazard Fame went on to sell many copies of the song, “Better Class of Losers”.

Here is Chucks recording of that song: