TEXAS HAIRCUT

I read the following poem at Living Word Church of the Nazarene in Houston, Texas where I've been serving as Interim Pastor since the first of February. It was the result of two different experiences in Texas barber shops. The first barber cut my hair pretty well but then literally zipped off both eye brows with his clippers. Gone.

The second barber I got in the second shop would have been given a failing grade on his FIRST DAY in Barber School if he had performed he cut he gave me.

Hence:

TEXAS HAIRCUT

I DROVE IN TO HOUSTON, HAIR BEAUTIFULLY COIFFED

TILL A WILD EYED TEXAN CUT IT ALL OFF

IT WAS NOT MY FIRST CUT IN THE LONE STAR STATE

I ONLY LOST EYEBROWS IN THAT FIRST TWIST OF FATE

BUT THE SECOND WAS DIFFERENT, I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN BETTER

WHEN THE BARBER WAS HANGING HIS CERTIFICATE LETTER

WITH GREAT PRIDE HE ATTACHED IT TO THE WALL UP BEHIND HIM

THEN OFFERED HIS CHAIR WITH A SMILE THAT DEFIED HIM.

ARMS COVERED WITH TATTS AND A BENCH FULL OF CLIPPERS

SCISSORS AND RAZORS AND ALL KINDS OF NIPPERS

"JUST A TRIM" I SAID WITH PLENTY OF PRIDE

THEN HE SLIPPED UP BEHIND ME AROUND BY MY SIDE



HE FLIPPED ON THE SWITCH AND HAIR IT DID FLY

AS HE RAN THE CLIPPERS FROM EYE TO EYE

BUT NOT ON THE FRONT, THE EYEBROWS REMAINED

IT WAS FRONT TO BACK AND AROUND TO THE SAME

HAIR FLYING, HEART DROPPING, I KNEW IT WAS GONE

MY BEAUTIFUL HAIR, LOST LIKE THE DAWN.

NO LONGER TO STYLE IT OR SPRAY IT OR FROST IT

IT LAY IN MY LAP AND I KNEW I HAD LOST IT.

"BAD HAIRCUT" YOU SAY? WHY, WHAT DO YOU MEAN?

IT'S THE SORRIEST HAIRCUT THAT I'VE EVER SEEN

GOUGES AND RIDGES AND SHELVES IN THE BACK

AND I'VE GOT TO PREACH! THE PEOPLE WILL YACK!

WHAT SHOULD I SAY TO GET THEIR ATTENTION?

I'LL SPEAK ON SAMSON AND THEN I WILL MENTION

THAT I DID IT ON PURPOSE, THIS HAIRCUT ATTACK

BUT I'LL PROUDLY PROCLAIM, "MY EYEBROWS GREW BACK."

Fountain Creek Cottage

It's been quite a while since I've taken the time to write a note on these pages. No good excuse, just lazy I guess. But in all honesty, I've been busy. Oh, sure there have been the usual preaching assignments here and there and then there was that trip to Seattle to help Staci and Josh and family move to Monterrey, California. And Christmas was in there along with Jury duty on a capital case but forget all that.

I'm writing today to tell you about what my brother and I have done (along with our wives). And I have to admit that this is a bit of a commercial but please don't stop reading. I'm not going to try to get you hooked up to some pyramid scheme.

Terry and Barb and Jane and I purchased a cabin on Fountain Creek in Green Mountain Falls to use as a summer rental.  It won't be ready until about mid-June but it's going to be a sweet little place to spend a week. The delay in preparation is due to the fact that Terry lives in Topeka and that Jane and I are in Houston for three months serving as Interim Pastor at a terrific church there. And in all honesty, the cabin needs some work.

I had a new roof put on during the third week of January. The painter is coming as soon as weather is warm enough to paint the exterior. New carpet, remodeled bath and kitchen will be part of the jobs Terry and I are taking on during the last of May, first of June.

The cabin has two bedrooms with new mattresses and hotel style bedding. It has a beautiful fireplace, television, DVD and OF COURSE, I wouldn't call it the Fountain Creek Cottage if it wasn't on the creek. A beautiful crystal clear creek runs 10 steps from the back door. Imagine going to bed at night with the window cracked open listening to the gentle, yet hypnotic sounds of water splashing playfully over mountain granite rocks. I promise, you'll never sleep any better. And the creek is shallow enough and slow moving enough that your kids or grand kids will totally enjoy splashing and wading on a hot summer day.

The rent will be $800 per week. A week will begin after 3:00 p.m. on a Saturday and end by noon the next Saturday.

Winter weeks or weekends are also available as long as you stay at least three nights. The cost per night in that case is $125. The cabin is about an hour from Monarch (if you want to ski) and only an hour and a half from Breckenridge.

It's also located just about two miles from the toll road up Pike's Peak and only 9 miles from Manitou Springs and Colorado Springs with all the wonderful things those two areas provide.

The little village of Green Mountain Falls offers a delightful pond for fishing in the summer or ice skating in the winter. You'll also want to have breakfast at The Pantry and if you do, make sure to have their cinnamon raisin toast along with your omelet and country potatoes.

Well, that's all the "sales job" I know how to do. If you're interested in reserving a week you can call me at 303.870.3775 or send me an email at tdstearman@gmail.com.

Come experience a Rocky Mountain High.

"Hi There Boys and Girls"

This post probably won't mean much to those of you who didn't grow up in Wichita, Kansas our the surrounding area, and I guess it's a result of us being back there for the high school reunion several weeks ago.

Since we don't get to Wichita much any more, and since Jane and I both were born and raised there it's probably natural for us to drive around the city and try to find the old hangouts and to revive memories of those days when we were kids. I mean the days before we even knew each other. Days when we were in elementary school. (Jane and I met in high school).

Well, as we drove around I had the radio on. I ALWAYS have the radio on. And instead  listening to XM I tuned to some local stations and started to reminisce about the days when I rode standing up in the front seat of a 55 Ford (seat belts? who had seat belts?) that my mom was driving to pick up my father from work. She always had the radio tuned to KWBB or KFH. I started remembering names that I should have long since forgotten. Characters from those radio stations. Names like Lee Nichols and Herkimer P. Pushbroom.

And as we drove, more names of radio and then television personalities that were part of my childhood kept popping into my mind

I used to rush home after elementary school to watch Deputy Dusty as he introduced the old black and white western that would be screened each evening.

And a guy named John Froome, a local guy with big city talent, would be The Old Cobbler and introduce cartoons. John was also the evening weather man and hosted a mid-day show with  live audience.

Bill McClain used to do a show where he was called Captain Bill. He had Popeye as a sidekick and they (what else) showed cartoons. He also did a show for a while called "Just For Laughs" that was really pretty good a quite a bit ahead of it's time. Bill was another who also served as the weather man. Remember him saying "It's a BEAUUUTIFUL day in KAKEland?"

Ah, but who could forget Freddy Fudd. He was supposed to be Elmer Fudd's cousin. He sat in a tree house and introduced cartoons as he sought to capture Bugs Bunny. What's really sad is that I remember the song he used to sing.

"I'm Freddy Fudd the forest ranger
Come on in and say 'Howdy Stranger."
I look for fires, and that ain't funny,
But my biggest job is to catch Bugs Bunny."

Freddy was played by a local guy named Henry Harvey. Henry was another jack of all trades when it came to broadcasting. He was a graduate of Friends University and lived just a few blocks from the campus. He had a great singing voice and was often used in community productions.  But in my young heart his greatest roll started every year on Thanksgiving Day. Late on that afternoon, on channel 10, KAKE, he would become Santa and kids across the city would park in front of the TV to watch Santa (along with a really lame puppet called KAKEman) as they counted down the days until Christmas Eve. Then we would watch him load the sleigh and blast off to deliver toys to boys and girls all over the world....and we knew it wouldn't be long before he hit our place. ("are you serious about that Clark?")

And who could forget Major Astro. He was played by a Tom Leahy and was another multi-talented local guy who donned the uniform of an astronaut and made us believe that he was actually one of the guys with The Right Stuff. He introduced cartoons and we watched.

My favorite character that Tom portrayed was The Host. The show aired after Johnny Carson on Friday nights. This was on when I was in college and was for a more "mature" audience. His task was to introduce one of those old black and white horror movies. The Host was a Frankenstein sort of character who couldn't do anything right. He thought he was much smarter than his co-host Rodney. Rodney didn't speak and The Host had a bit of a Boris Karloff accent. You can actually find clips of this show on YouTube. It's a hoot.

And does anyone remember Mack Sanders? He was a country-western guy with a band who hosted a show once a week in the evening. I can't remember much about it except that it was on his show that I first saw Roy Clark.  Mack Sanders bought up a bunch of radio stations, moved from Wichita and  did quite well. I know....I remember the most useless stuff.

And Cecil Carrier? Does that name ring a bell? Cecil was one of the weather men who reminded us that we lived in Kansas and tornado's really were an option.

Most of these guys have gone on to that great broadcast studio in the sky but they had an impact on a generation of kids growing up in Wichita. The product that they created was good clean fun. The kind that parents didn't worry about when we were sitting so close to the TV screen that our noses almost touched it.

I had an idyllic childhood and discover the older I get, the more I enjoy reflecting on the fabulous 50"s

We Are The Pioneers

I walked into the indoor courtyard at the Wichita Airport Best Western hotel looking for my High School Reunion.  I initially thought I had the wrong room because the courtyard was full of old people. I was sure this group had just left the "Early Bird Special" at the local Country Buffet. I was wrong. This WAS my high school class and they didn't look a day older than me. OUCH!

We were the class of 1966. We graduated from Wichita High School West. We were known as the Pioneers.

"Our team has no fears. We are the Pioneers."

And so we were. We were on the cutting edge of a group of kids known as Baby Boomers (those born between 1946 and 1964).

We entered West High in the fall of 1963. Brought together from several Junior High schools we started the process of creating a new group identity.....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

We discovered the joy of  Friday night football games and the thrill of victory. The football team lost two games that first year but won every other game during our high school career. We didn't know what it felt like to lose.....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS

"We're from West High, couldn't be prouder,
And if you can't hear us, we'll YELL A LITTLE LOUDER."

We had only walked the halls of West for about three months when a Friday afternoon was interrupted by the static of the intercom as someone from the school office announced that our president had been shot in Dallas. That weekend before Thanksgiving seemed overcast as we joined our nation in mourning and wondering what this tragedy wold mean for our country, our world, and our own futures.....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

Because we were the second generation of teenagers accustomed to Rock and Roll, we were quite comfortable listening to Doo Wop or the Four Seasons or The Beach Boys...even Elvis...on KWBB and KLEO as we drove whatever vehicle we could commandeer. But early in 1964 our musical lives were changed by what came to be known as The British Invasion. We started dancing to a new beat. Music (as well as hair length) would never be the same.....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

In our junior year, class rings were purchased and by the end of that school year we anticipated having an "upper classman" (or woman) turn our ring with a kiss.

We went to prom and dated and worked part time jobs. We even attended class most of the time. We would drag Douglas Avenue on a Friday night, turning around at Sandy's on the east. We hung out at Griffs on West Street and discovered the delight of pizza at the Pizza Hut.

Jane and me with David Converse, who I attended school with grades 1 through 12.

In May of 1966 we gathered at the Wichita State Fieldhouse for graduation ceremonies. We were going to go out into "the real world," and so we did.....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

And on that night we separated and scattered in 500 different directions. Some went to college, some started jobs that would become careers, others joined the service and found themselves in far away places. A classmate, Arnie Tinkum, died inVietnam. And with his death, the Pioneers discovered the cruelty of that "real world."

Over half of our class left Wichita. We married, graduated again, started new jobs, bought houses, had kids and discovered that somehow we had crossed that dreaded threshold of being 30. But life was good, the war was over and America was a wonderful place to live.....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

We, who had grown up during "Gas Wars" paying under 25 cents a gallon for gasoline, were shocked to see it push over 50 cents a gallon. We thought the world would end when it crested a dollar. It didn't. We adjusted....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

We witnessed the birth of the Superbowl, Watergate, the resignation of President Nixon, the K car, the microwave oven, the video recorder, the Fonz, Charlie's Angels, the A Team, Oprah, the impeachment of President Clinton over the definition of "is." We were there at the dawn of the computer, the Walkman, the cell phone, the digital revolution, GPS, the iPod, iPhone and iPad. We were even there for Disco....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

Sitting in the sill on D Hall.

Ten years after graduation we were crisscrossing the country talking on CB radios. My handle was Streakin Deacon. We wore bell bottom pants, leisure suits and platform shoes....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

We were even there when country music (oh lord) made a resurgence. It was a new kind of country. No more Loretta Lynn and George Jones, it was Garth and Clint and Tim and Faith and Shania. Oh dear God, please let me meet Faith and Shania.

Driving around Wichita now, it's hard to find my childhood. The house I grew up in is gone, replaced by a Penney's parking lot in Town West Shopping Center. My elementary school is gone, replaced by a restaurant. Even the place where my father worked (Santa Fe Shops) is gone. Just a deserted, abandoned field.

Old entrance to Santa Fe shops.

These days we communicate as a class with a website (thank you, Cindy). We join Facebook and send texts over our "smart phones." And though we WERE the Pioneers, some of us are asking grandchildren to show us how to program our DVR.

Now....we gather in a hotel for our 45th reunion, but instead of cars and girls, we're thinking about bulges and bumps and bunions and bifocals and Bell Tones and bay windows and bridges and baldness....and Ben Gay. I realize that I've kept my hair but I've lost my waistline.

A thoughtful touch at our reunion was a balloon release. Two large helium filled balloons containing the names of deceased classmates were sent skyward. As I watched them climb into the sky I couldn't help but hope that I can keep my name out of one of those balloons at the 50th reunion.

And so we lived through America's golden age, her greatest days. We started life in a "Leave It To Beaver" atmosphere. Looking back from our vantage point now life then seemed so simple...and safe...and it was.

And now we focus on our adult children....and grandchildren. And we hope they will know the blessings we've enjoyed. 

With retirement looming it's easy to start wondering as we look back. Did we make a difference? Did we accomplish anything? Did we matter?

Well...sure we did. We lived and loved and led productive lives....

WE WERE THE PIONEERS.

Thunder Road

(To be read as though you're reading a cheap detective paperback novel. Think of Joe Friday.)

Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning I found myself "riding dirty." 

While in Wichita for my high school reunion I checked Craigslist and found a Chevrolet SSR at a good price so I called my friend Randy. He's an auto broker and had been interested in an SSR. He called the seller and made a deal and I agreed to finish the transaction and drive the car back to Denver.

Problem? No tag. No temporary tag. I'd have to drive over 500 miles without benefit of legal cover.  I'd be riding dirty.

Now I've driven a car before without a tag. You know, something that I bought and drove a few blocks or even across town, but this...this was big. This was 500 miles with no cover.

I worked on my alibi. I had it all down pat. They could throw me in the hole. They could use the rubber hose on me but I would not change my story.

Here was my response: "Whaaaat? You mean it's wrong? I wish someone would have told me. I had no idea it was against the law to drive a car without a license tag."

Yeah, that's what I planned to say.

I was reminded of an old black and white movie starring Robert Mitchum. It was called Thunder Road and it detailed guys in the 50's who ran bootleg whiskey in hopped up cars.

I envisioned myself as one of them as I drove that purple hot rod across I-70 on a cloudless autumn day.

The strains of the movie soundtrack ran through my mind. I tinkered with the words...

"Let me tell the story. I can tell it all
About the mountain boy who ran illegal in the fall

Randy did the dealin. Tim, he drove the load
And when his engine roared they called the highway Thunder Road."

This run would be the holy grail of driving without a tag.

Leaving Wichita late on Tuesday afternoon I found myself on sensory overload. I was inspecting every car for signs of the Law. I knew if they were coming toward me I'd be okay but I couldn't let some cagey patrolman approach on my rear flank.

I had some cover. Jane was driving our car and I positioned her behind me with specific instructions. "Don't let anyone get between you and me." She didn't. One other thing I did was to put a dealer's advertisement on the rear bumper where the tag should go. I hoped the Law would think it indicated a car out on a test drive. I also counted on the tinted windows being dark enough to make the Law assume there was a temporary paper tag stuck in the back window.

We pulled in to Hays, Kansas, and decided to spend the night. Hiding the car out of sight I slept fitfully, wondering if the SWAT team had been sent to find us yet. If so, they failed.

Wednesday morning we loaded into the two vehicles, filled up with fuel and hit the highway. Early.  While the cops were still in the donut shops.

For the next 300 miles cops were everywhere. My palms grew sweaty as I gripped the wheel tighter every time I saw another patrol car. I spotted nine. that's right. NINE. And I dodged everyone.

And then, just when I thought I was home free I spotted a patrol car coming up behind Jane. I got on the phone and called her, "Keep as close to me as you can." And he stayed on her bumper. We were on a two lane and for 20 miles he rode her bumper. I kept praying that he'd turn off. He didn't. Then we came to one of those passing areas. I moved far to the right. Jane stayed on my bumper. The patrolman pulled out to pass. I'd be vulnerable, uncovered, naked. No tag. Would the jig be up?

No!!! He pulled around Jane and with my heart pounding he passed me. Whew! That was close. Adrenaline surged through my body. I never felt so alive! Just 20 more miles and I delivered the car.

"And there was thunder, thunder, over Thunder Road
Thunder was his engine and a hot rod was his load.

And there was moonshine, moonshine to quench the devil's thirst
The law they swore they'd get him but McDonalds got him first."

Boys Of Summer

 

If you've read this blog at all you know that for the past year Jane and I have been serving at the Aurora Church of the Nazarene in Seattle as Interim Pastor. Well, that wonderful assignement ended this past Sunday. It was one of those "parting is such sweet sorrow" moments for us. The people had just totally accepted us as though we were their permanent pastor. Following the service Sunday morning they presented us with wonderful gifts and the Board said many nice things before they received a INCREDIBLE love offering for us as a parting gift. A luncheon followed. We could hardly eat for talking to people and saying our goodbyes. What totally awesome memories we will cherish from our days there.

On our way to the airport I drove over to West Seattle with Jane and Staci and baby Marian. We had a little time before our plane was to take off and we wanted to just drive around and enjoy the beauty that is Seattle and the Great Northwest.

This is where the story gets complicated. You see, Staci's sister-in-law is getting married this coming weekend. So, she and Josh and all the kids are coming to Denver for the celebration. Well, knowing that I decided to bring the two boys home with me on the plane a week ago and let them spend time with Jane and me at the cabin. What an adventure that turned out to be....all good I might add.

At the Seattle airport a week ago Sunday I got out of the car and the two boys started getting out of their car seats. And then there was the first hint of tears. Daniel started to sniffle, then whimper, then cry. Little John could have cared less. He was going to ride on the big airplane. Daniel...not so much. However, by the time the goodbyes were said and I got them to the security line he was fine. We got on the plane, row 3, and the thing took off. Soon the flight attendants were passing soft drinks down the aisle and I chose that moment to get out the surprise I had for each boy. (Did I mention they are 4 and 2?) I had a baggie for each with M&M's and a couple of Matchbox cars. Well, things were getting interesting now. It was like, "Grandpa, why didn't you tell us you had surprises?" Daniel turned to me and said, "Grandpa, I don't miss my mommy anymore." I'm sure that thrilled her.  Another 30 minutes and Frontier Airlines was passing out the warm chocolate chip cookies and life couldn't get any better.

We landed at DIA about 6:30 p.m. with Aunt Jamie and grandma there to meet us and the fun was ready to begin.

On Monday we loaded the boys into our car and drove to the cabin. They were barely out of the car before shoes were being kicked off and they were headed for the stream. Try to remember what it felt like to be young and energetic and to have a yard with a stream flowing through it. Not a raging river, just a little brook that was shallow enough for you to play in all day long without a lot of supervision. They were in heaven. The tire swing was moving gently in the breeze and grandma was soon in the house preparing some lunch.



Government workers

The next day we discovered that the county was repaving the road in front of our house. How exciting! Is there anything more wonderful for small boys than big trucks? We had to stop everything and head to the road to watch.

"Hold the lunch, there's a big truck up there."



Each night they headed up to the loft to sleep in the king sized bed and they went to sleep immediately after grandma finished reading the story. No crying, no whimpering. They were EXHAUSTED. They had run barefoot through the grass and the stream all day long. They had "washed" their car and driven it up and down the drive. They had ridden tricycles and built forts and carried sand from the creek into the house.

Well, on Saturday, with them safely in the care of the other grandma (Kathy Zaker) Jane and I left for Seattle for our final Sunday there. That's when all the kindness was expressed to us.

Then we drove to West Seattle and to the airport, but this time with Staci and with baby Marian Jane. Again we sat on row 3 and our only granddaughter (four grandsons) slept like....well, like a baby, all the way to Denver.

Now all of our family is back in Colorado except for one. Josh, a Major in the Air Force, flies in Thursday. And to make things even more exciting my brother and his wife are riding their Harley in on Friday morning for the long weekend.

So, Sunday night (the wedding that I mentioned is on Saturday afternoon) we plan to have both daughters, both sons-in-law, all five grandchildren plus my brother and his wife PLUS my cousin Scott and his wife sitting on our patio for a casual dinner.

What fun!


Nothing better than being a grandpa. "Papa, can I have pop?"



Earl Pike

Had a great visit with my friend Reverend Earl Pike recently. Some of you know that Earl is the pastor out on the eastern plains of Colorado in Punkin Center. He's a great guy who seems to have his act together, at least in his own mind he does. He just seems to see things a bit differently than most folks.  As we visited I made mental note of some of the things he said. Only Earl...

"I put my pants on one day at a time just like the next man."

"These days, half the things in my shopping cart say, "For Fast Relief."

"So little to say, so much time to say it."

"Where there's a will, there's a greedy relative."

"When I was a kid we were so poor that my parents took us to KFC to lick other people's fingers."

"I noticed my gums were shrinking and then I realized that I had been brushing my teeth with Preparation H."

"My mind is going a mile an hour."