So, What Makes a Writer?

So, what makes a writer, or rather, a blogger? Well, beer helps, but experience does, too. I’ve been writing since 1962, but if I’d been making shoes since then, I’d probably be a fairly good shoe maker by now. It doesn’t matter what you do, so long as you do it long enough then, you’ll eventually become good at it. Basically, I’m a song writer. Writing a song is simple. Three verses, a lead riff, a chorus, and you’re done. Blogging is no different. Start with an idea, bang it, reinforce it, and you’re out. A lot of people don’t notice it, but I put a chorus in every article. Now, it’s not apparent, like it’s not like a song, but it’s there. A repeating logic to drive home the idea of the article.
A song writer is concerned with flow. Flow is like it has to roll off the tongue, and I do that, I mean, I really do. People see me talking to myself, and they think I’m crazy, but I’m not. I’m vocalizing my articles to make sure that they flow. The simple shift of a word, or phrase that makes an article flow easily makes it easy to remember. The article has to stick in someone’s head, just like a song. Like the word, “but” is harsh, but “and” is not, and they mean basically the same thing.
Original ideas are important, but more than that is the delivery. It isn’t what you say, but how you say it. And set the reader up to anticipate what you’re going to say. You open the gate and the reader willingly walks through it. Returning to the beginning is a biggie. I call that “circles.” You don’t want your reader to ask, “Where is this going?” because if they ask that then they’re already lost. Forget about all that crap you learned in school, except for spelling, that’s important, but spell check has your back. Talk to your reader in their language, because if you use all that elevated English some college professor taught you then you might as well be talking in Swahili. That comes back to flow, also. You don’t want the reader to be stumble bumbling over words that they have to Google.
I think that somewhere down the pike I’ve created a style, and even though it was by accident, it now has a purpose. The purpose is to get young people to read the article with the same enthusiasm they have when they listen to their favorite song, and that’s because that’s exactly what I do; write a song without the melody, but with the same spirit.
It helps if you have something to say, too. You have to have at least some conviction, and don’t lie! If you don’t believe in abortion then just say it! Don’t be jellyfish about it. Throw it out there, and there will be people who think just like you, they just can’t articulate it. Fly high above the issues. The higher you fly, the less likely someone is going to come along and stick a pin in your balloon. And don’t count money! If you are a writer, then be one. Just write. Reads are more important than money. If you court money, you’ll find very quickly that she is a whore, and she doesn’t love you. Stay true to yourself, draw the circles, and it’ll all work out. Ask yourself; how rich was Hemmingway when he died? Writers are thinkers and chosen to be so. So THINK, write, and open the gates to human communication.
Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


The Icy Waters of Delaware

The icy waters of the Delaware send us a modern message about Americans that ISIS has overlooked. The recent videos and audio from that group, including that smart-mouth boy with the British accent seems to elevate the terrorists over all things American, as if we were just a post script in history, a people with no purpose, or backbone. As they wag their tongues, and pray to their “god” they believe that no amount of resistance will succeed, and eventually their black flag will fly over the White House.
America never had it easy. From the Pilgrims forward, nothing came short and sweet for Americans. But, they developed personality. After fighting with natives, clearing forests, building cities, starving, and getting little or no support from the old country, a simple tea tax lit the fuse that blew up into the Revolutionary War. And, yes, God was a part of it.
It amuses me when ISIS thinks that they, and only they, have a lock on God. They act as if we are just a bunch of savages who run hither and yon with no consideration of any moral value. They know nothing about why Washington crossed the Delaware. I’m gonna be up front with ya’ll. The first part of the war was just a continuous butt stomping, delivered by the best equipped army in the world. The British burned New York right off the bat, sending the Americans scampering through the woods with no ammo, and no socks. On Christmas, of all days, Washington decides to launch an attack on Hessian forces celebrating the holiday.
Now, this gives you a view of the mindset of the forces arrayed against the patriots. They had such little regard for them that they decided to take the day off and get drunk. Washington was not like minded. Around 11:00 PM, he takes about 2400 troops, gets in a boat, and starts across the icy waters toward the Jersey side. There was supposed to be 3000 more troops to join, but they couldn’t make it. This is the way the whole war had been going, so Washington just considered it to be business as usual, and proceeded anyway.
At approximately 8 AM, he split his remaining force into two columns, reached Trenton, and entertained the hung over Hessians. The Germans rolled out of bed to find themselves surrounded, and several hundred ran off into the woods, but nearly 1000 were rounded up at the cost of only four American lives. Washington didn’t have the support of artillery to maintain the town, and withdrew, but the embarrassing whipping he had delivered to the elite German troops rallied the spirit of a nation that was doubting if this fight was going to go anywhere but the gallows. This is called audacity.
This is what ISIS does not understand. Americans will only go so far. The British missed that, the Japanese missed it, and ISIS sure missed it. In spite of the current occupant of the White House there are still about three hundred million of us who are not going to bow and scrape to some street gang following a camel dung prophet. We are not just an accident of history, and we will not just hand over all we’ve built in the last three hundred years to people who shoot little kids.
Political correctness has clouded American minds, but that will pass. One day, when Muslims gather in the streets of come city in America, you will see some other people come around the corner with bats, and guns, and Delaware in their AMERICAN hearts!

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

What If Trump Wins?

What if Trump wins? Friday I was invited to be on Doc Greene’s morning show and was surprised when the Apostle Claver Kamau-Imani chimed in. It was Christmas day, but RER being what it is, the conversation turned to politics. Doc asked the question, who do you support for president? Everybody had a choice, and mine was a Trump/Cruz ticket. Then, Claver came on board. Now, for the uninitiated, the Apostle is known as the “Purifier.” Well, we all got purified.

We, who work with Raging Elephants are very Tex-Centric, i.e. we generally don’t give a flip about America, we want a free and independent Texas because we’re simply tired of holding up the Obamanation. Claver is more Tex-Centric than Sam Houston! He’s more than me, and boys and girls that’s going some. To make a long story short, he believes that wasting gas to go to the polls would be better used running around to Burger King.

The way I gathered, the Apostle thinks that the national system is a stacked deck, and no matter who wins it will be the same old bunch pulling the strings. On that I must say I agree, but I view the national elections much like a horse race. In the end a horse will win, and you don’t have to like the horse to put two dollars down at the window. Another friend told me yesterday that Hillary is going to win, and that’s that. It’s a rigged race, and even should she die between November and January the powers that be will swear in her dead body.

But, what if Trump wins? Before I launch into that, consider this; like him or hate him, Donald Trump is blowing the doors off of the polls. The Republican Party is exposing it’s hypocrisy by pretending he doesn’t exist and pushing losers like Jeb Bush because like Hillary, Jeb is one of the gilded prodigies of the beltway. But, what if Trump wins? Donald Trump is a brilliant businessman, but he doesn’t know squat about politics. One thing Claver pointed out was that Ted Cruz is a slimy politician and a yes man who made his bones touring the country parroting what his handlers told him to. That is exactly why I want him to be Vice President.

Let me ask you, what was wrong with Jimmy Carter? He was Navy, had a good education, had been in office in Georgia, God fearing, but he wasn’t one of them! During his administration he was lucky if he got to pardon the Thanksgiving Turkey. I give you, Donald Trump! He’d walk into Congress, and they’d look at this New York real estate broker, and then at their watches, and never pass a single bill. It’s going to take a Ted Cruz to know how to manipulate the wheels under that dome.

Is Ted perfect? Uh. . . . no! Claver pointed out that this man never ran for office before 2012, and now he’s jumping up trying to be president. Good point, but, he has walked the halls of Congress, and is a United States Senator. If Trump really wants to build a wall on the southern border, it’ll be Cruz who finds the cement.

Will a Trump/Cruz win change history? Nah. America is far to messed up for any one administration to untie all the knots. Obama has torn down everything he possibly could promoting the Islamazation of the country, and it’s going to take a minute before God blesses America again. We have to prove ourselves, and, it’s all just a horse race.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

Whatever Happened to Mary?

Whatever happened to Mary? If you want to start an intense debate among Christians, just bring up Mary. Her position in the great cosmic story of salvation has been elevated, and minimized accordingly, depending upon which theologian is commenting at the time. As Catholics repeat the “Hail Mary,” Baptists pray that she’ll just go away. Much contemplation, and commentary centers on this little girl.
So who is Mary? According to the Bible, she was the mother of Jesus Christ. She received a visit from an angel, was informed that she would have a child, and that child would be the son of God. Mary was practical. She felt as if she had to educate the angel a bit, i.e. she wasn’t married, and she was still a virgin. Now, this is where the theologians get petty about things.
Theologians are like lawyers. The only time they twist the truth is when their mouths are open. Breaking down the Greek, they interpret the word, “virgin” as everything from absolutely as pure as a five year old Shirley Temple all the way up to someone who only had one husband and hasn’t had a child yet. I, personally think it meant Mary was a good little girl. She made it very clear to the angel, and he basically agreed with her on that point, but told her not to worry about it because God had her back.
Mary was probably around fourteen years old. Before you start throwing tomatoes at me please understand that in this era people lived to up around thirty, or thirty-five, so at fourteen or so, little Mary had most likely lived around half of her life. At any rate, she became with child, which freaked her fiancé completely out. He knew it wasn’t him, and he also knew that the result of such a thing could be stoning. He decides to put her away “privately,” as opposed to the strip to the rock yard. Joseph was a good old boy.
Nothing ever came easy for Mary. Nowadays, women get wheeled into an operating room, given pain killers, and smile for the camera holding the new addition to the family. Mary got about a seventy mile trip on a jack-ass, did her labor in a barn, and the king tried to kill the baby. And you think you’ve had it rough!
The Nativity scene we’ve all come to know is actually a composite of the Gospels, and little tradition thrown in. Was she really in a stable? There was no room at the inn, but consider; if Joseph was returning to his tribal home to register for taxes, wouldn’t you think he’d have had at least a cousin in town somewhere. I mean, it was Bethlehem, not Jerusalem. These people all knew each other. Staying in a stable was not the raging insult that we think. First off let’s look at timing. Although we celebrate Christmas on December 25th, the Bible says that shepherds were “abiding in the fields.” Now, I’m just a Simple Ol’ Body from Austin, but Shepherds don’t “abide” in the dead of winter, they abide closer to the equinox, say, Passover maybe? House full of relatives, lots of people in town, fourteen year old girl about to have a baby, do you think?
So, Mary has her baby, raises Him, and presents Him to the world at Cana. Joseph died early on so it was she who formed Jesus’ personality, it was she who gave him concept, it was she who knelt before the angel, and finally, before the cross. Whatever happened to Mary?

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

The Unanswered Door

It’s been eight months since we lost Joe. I still remember that night. His request for his dog, Cleo, and an order of chicken wings. It had been a long year. Feverishly rushing to Salt Lake City for one treatment, and back to Austin for another. He resisted using oxygen, and hated the Hoveround. I finally convinced him to use the motorized chair by showing him it operated like a tank. After that he, and New Baby would do figure “8’s” in the living room.

He’d sit on the back porch. There wasn’t much room, and we had to put a little ramp down to accommodate the chair, but he’d find his way out there most days. There were good days, and bad days. Bad days he didn’t leave the couch. Good days would see him sitting on the porch. The neighbor behind us was building a shed. Joe had a wood shop at his house. Before his illness he would spend hours working there. Joe wasn’t a carpenter, he was an artist! The front door of his house didn’t come from Home Depot, he carved it from Redwood. He carved portraits into wooden planks. His brother in New York had sent him all the special woods. They didn’t look like much, about the size of a floor tile, but when he was done something would be immortalized in the grain. He explained the grains and different woods to me, but I was clueless. He wasn’t, though. To him wood was forever alive.

As he fed the wings to the little dog, I wiped my eye.

“Men don’t cry,” he said. I did, though. To see this man, with three bronze stars, a silver, and a purple heart feed that dog at the VA was a little much for me. Joe was missing in action in Vietnam. Reported back for duty in black pajamas and sandals. Now he thought about his little dog, and yes, I cried that day.

The priest came in to administer the last rites. Joe didn’t have any sins to confess, and within the hour it didn’t matter anyway. I had taken the dog home, and was about to return to the hospital when I got a simple text, “He’s gone.” I stared at those words for a very long time. I still have a screen shot on my iPhone. How ironic for a man’s life to boil down to, “He’s gone!” In his last moment he looked at my ex, his wife, said, “Oh baby,” and just left us.

The months went by. We watched all his “Buddies,” to see how his death had affected them. You know, you can never tell what’s in a child’s mind, or what level of understanding they have, but sometimes it shows and will humble you. Joe’s favorite was “New Baby.” When he finalized the adoptions, New Baby took his name. Joseph Steven Tarajos. With all the ups and downs, the funeral, the probate, and all the rest, no one paid any mind to Joe, Jr. After all, he was just the baby.

Christmas approached. There were two more trips to Utah between Joe’s death, and then. The kids were back in Texas, setting up the tree and playing in Joe’s yard. Joe would usually be in his wood shop making toys. I heard a tap, tap, tap in the distance. It was then I noticed New Baby knocking on the door of the shop. A knock that would never be answered. He stood there perplexed staring at the unanswered door. I wiped another tear, but, men don’t cry.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

Get Obama a Green Card

The CEO of Apple said this weekend that he was against the government slicing through encryption and observing private files of his customers. This all came about because the powers that be want to get yet more power to spy upon Americans in a supposed effort to ward off terrorism. Never mind the long list of failures over the last year or so, as ISIS has its way with the world, if they can just hack into “Plenty of Fish” everything is gonna be OK.
I told you in an article previous this last week that I’d watched some YouTube videos by an ex-cop. Well, in one of those videos he addressed the question about giving your Social Security number to an officer. He explained (for about twenty minutes) all the things the cop knows about you by the time he walks up to your window, the officer is privy to your ID, your car, it’s repairs, your address, your neighbors, your criminal history, the name of your dog, and who your daughter had an affair with last week! Now this is just a beat cop. God help you when the detectives get ahold of you. And all of this is not enough to pick out some guy and gal, dressed in a clown suit, with a trunk full of ammunition, jabbering in Arabic. I feel so protected and served.
I have some ideas that might increase national security. First off, we gotta be a little bit racist. I know, I know, it’s not politically correct, but the good ship reality comes into port when some wench careens all over the Vegas Strip screaming, “Allahu Akbar.” First, don’t let any more Arabs into the country. To the best of my knowledge, during WWII, we didn’t throw the doors open to Germans and Japanese. We even put the Japanese into camps. Shut the front door! We really did that, but you know what? They didn’t find one mass grave when it was all over. We are at war with a whole bunch of little brown people which their heads screwed on backwards. I’ve seen so many ISIS killings that I’ve began to critique them. I actually evaluate the style. I admire the courage of someone on their knees waiting while some guy rants on and on about God knows what, but that’s another story. If you try to put me on my knees, they may get me, but at least one Ali-Babble is gonna share his virgins with me!
As for the southern border. Everyone is so caught up in terrorists coming over the southern border because they look Mexican. I have a solution, and Glenn Beck, I said it first so sit down! Tell El Chappo you will pay $10,000 for every Muslim ear he sends you. Compared to a war the cost will be minimal, and would enhance Mexican/American relations, what with us being more agreeable to the guy who’s really running Mexico.
No welfare for Arab immigrants. They can open a Quickie Mart just like all the rest. If Islam is so great, and they are so smart, then they should be able to outdo the rest of us in no time. Jews coming here after WWII shot right up to the top 50% of the wealth in this country. Surely, they are as smart as the Jews, right? An immigrant is someone who comes to blend into a country, not drag the old country with them, else, why did they leave in the first place? And, finally, we seriously do need to issue Obama a green card.

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


Religion is man’s feeble attempt to explain the unexplainable. That’s a quote from my book, “Sharon,” and I’ve cited that hundreds of times in my writings. In my spiritual travels I’ve gone from Southern Baptist, to Islam, to Catholicism, never atheist, but sometimes agnostic, and after many considerations I’ve come to two conclusions. In a brilliant stroke, I decided that there is a God, and we, as created beings will never totally understand that entity. Having arrived at those two ideas, I’ve seen the fallacy of religion.
We all have a “God Hole” in our head. If a new born child were to never be told of God, before it died, it would attempt to fill that hole with something. Coming together as groups, we share this information with each other, and the ideas begin to form. Simple facts are the foundation. It is logical to assume that a God who took all the time and trouble to create the known universe wouldn’t work even harder to destroy it. The master plan seems to be boy meets girl, come together, make more little people, who go on to do the same thing without hurting other people who are trying to do the same thing.
Therein lies the main problem with religion. As long as the rules are, “Praise the Lord, and don’t cheat, lie, or steal,” everything is well and good. When it evolves to special underwear, stone someone to death because you didn’t like what they said, or special passes to “Holy Places,” religion moves away from God, and toward something else. Jesus said, “Judge not lest ye be judged.” Let me tell you how that works. You start with a clean slate. As time goes by you set the rules by which you live, and you expect others to live also. It only goes to follow that you begin to impose these rules, and if you are religious, then you find a group that is like minded such as Mormons, Primitive Baptists, or Muslims. When you face the day of judgement, and the books are open, you stand there with your face hanging out and Jesus says, “DUDE! I’m just playing by the rules you set.” If you have a forgiving heart the test is easy. If you are judgmental, prideful, or hateful, then that will be the standard by which you are judged.
As religion applies layer upon layer to the onion, from the outside people can see the issues. Belief in a creator is all fine, but belief in layers of heaven, golden plates, women in sack dresses, or distain of food or drink puts a burden on people and the Imams, Stake Presidents, or TV evangelists won’t life a finger to help with the load. Your God Hole just got filled with garbage. The garbage becomes more important than the very reason for the hole in the first place, which is to let you find, and understand who you are, more importantly, who He is.
This is the message of Jesus. Do unto others, love God, love your neighbors, these are the things that matter. Quanell X said something on Tommy’s Garage that I found very profound. He said that it made him think when he had to walk through the streets of Houston, seeing starving children, on his way to meet with leaders of the Islamic community who were wining and dining like a flock of Pharisees. I think the word Jesus used was hypocrite. Like the song says, “Someone to be better than just anytime you please.” Religion is man’s feeble attempt …

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

A Christmas Story

A Christmas Story
I received a Christmas card yesterday from my friend, Chrystal Lee. I don’t get many. I put it above the fireplace. Sitting alone last night, I found myself looking at it for the longest time. I live alone, and don’t set up a tree or anything. Pam does that in the other house. Basically, that card is my only ornament. Now, before you start thinking that I’m a bitter old prick, I’m not, but somehow that card put me into a melancholy mood. Whiskey helps. Doctors say it’s bad for you, but there are more old drunks than there are old doctors.
By and by my thoughts centered on recent events. Just by chance I caught a little bit of “A Christmas Story,” on Netflix, but didn’t watch it all because my mind began to turn out a more current Christmas Story. I thought of the fourteen in San Bernardino. I thought about their husbands, wives, kids, aunts, uncles, grandparents, and all their friends and co-workers, and I considered what their Christmas must be like. The funerals, the empty plate, the clothes still hanging in the closet, the empty desk at work. Yes, Allah was truly great that day. He certainly spread a lot of holiday cheer, didn’t he?
It is hard enough to lose a grandparent, or someone who has been ill for a very long time, but to lose someone who simply went to an office party is horrific. There is no preparation, no understanding, nothing! Just loss, and pain, and the pain will never go away, and the hole in your heart will never completely heal. I thought of the children left behind. If you think such an event is rough on adults, put yourself in their shoes. On one hand is the expectation of Santa, only this time they have to look at mommy, or daddy in a box, and the big people try to explain to you how they are in heaven, but you don’t really know where that’s at, only that they won’t be coming home with you.
So I lit another cigarette, poured another glass of Jim Beam, and thought of Paris. If San Bernardino gives you pause, Paris is overwhelming. The city of light. A concert transformed into a field of death. One minute, music and laughter, and the next, chaos! A man running for his life, leaving his dead wife because of his age and inability to simply drag her body out of the building. Seems Allah doesn’t like parties, and certainly doesn’t get into music, and happiness.
I don’t spread it all around but I don’t pray. I talk to Jesus all through my day. Now, don’t get me wrong, He doesn’t talk back, that’s schizophrenia, but thoughts, from without form in my mind, such as this article. The Lord said that if someone hits you, then you should turn the other cheek, but He also said that one day you would have to sell your coat, and buy a sword. My friend, Doc Greene, updates that and says we should buy a gun. Just by chance I watched a retired police officer explaining that most beat cops want an armed citizenry. It’s only the chiefs and upper end that bow and scrape to the politicians, and advocate gun control.
Some Muslim cleric said last week that to say, “Merry Christmas” was worse than murder. Well, he doesn’t have to worry about that. Allah certainly took the “Merry” out of Christmas, now didn’t he? Then the message of the card became clear. Rise up, Patriots, we have work to do!

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin

Ali-Baba and the Boys

Ali-Baba and the Boys

I am amazed at how stupid the government is when it comes to terrorists. Now, there’s this guy who was friends with the male involved in the San Bernardino attack, buying not one, but two assault rifles, posting all kinds of stuff on Facebook about it, and planning three different attacks for years! And where was the almighty Fed? Why they were giving guns to El Chappo to see if he’d use them, that’s where. Where was the NSA? Listening to phone calls so MSNBC could catch another child porn distributer. Where was the FBI? Chasing down two kids in a park, making out with a joint in their hands. I feel so served and protected.
We’re paying these people, folks. And they get retirement, and new jobs in some other gum shoe department. They can’t track down a bunch of brown people wearing clown suits and screaming at the American flag, God help us if these super sleuths got involved in something like the Mafia! Come to think of it, maybe they should. If Osama Bin Forgotten had killed the granddaughter of Don Whomever, how long do you think he’d have hung out in them thar hills before some button man put a plastic bag over his head?
Donald Trump is wrong! We don’t need to bar Muslims from coming here, we need to round up all of those that are here, and put them in FEMA camps. We need to pull every single troop out of the Middle East, bring them home, and secure our borders. ALL our borders! We need to make it a felony to import one drop of Middle Eastern oil. We need to tell who ever runs that circus over there that we have allotted one hundred nuclear missiles, all of them aimed at them under the watchful eye of a pardoned serial killer with his finger super-glued to the button! We need to classify the possession of a Qu’ran under the Controlled Substance law, and the speaking of Arabic as child phonography. Am I right wing racist enough for you yet?
Every day I start my day with a nice ISIS execution. Anything from machine gunning a bunch of kids, to shooting a grandmother for letting her ankles show on the way to the store, and the great Liberal-Sama in the White House won’t even use the term Radical Islam or ISIS, preferring to call the group ISIL. For those of you who don’t know the difference, ISIS refers to Iraq and Syria, and ISIL wants all the way through Israel to Egypt.
With all this preparation, this planning, and this social media action from these three idiots involved in the attack in California, our so-called “intelligence” network didn’t pick up one word! They barged into a Christmas party, blasting, and the FED sat there with their faces hanging out. But you let K. C. Massey try to stop illegals from jumping the border and they are all over it. We can’t have any cowboys with guns trying to defend the nation! And while your government was spending thousands to make sure you were protected from K. C. Ali-Baba and the boys and girls was stockpiling ammo, and pipe bombs, and chatting and texting all over the planet!
I said it before, and I’ll say it again. We are at war! This is stealth Jihad. These mongrels have infiltrated our nation, and set up sleeper cells in every state. Our job should be to put them to sleep. . . PERMENANTLY! These people aren’t smart enough to win, unless we patriots are asleep.
Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin


When I began my present career as a writer, as you may, or may not know, I was involved with fighting the CPS (Child Protective Services.) I knew very little about the department. Originally, I’d been a temporary foster home for children in transition, indeed, had been paid by the department for services rendered. As luck would have it my daughter in law became involved with CPS, and as a good “dad” I took up her cause. I’ve told you before that I’m allowed to be wrong twice a year, and brothers and sisters, Jackie was one of those times. The end product was I was divorced, my ex adopted the grandkids, and Jackie split to parts unknown.
While still stinging from my butt whipping I began to write for Angel Eyes Over Texas about CPS, and turned out some fairly good stuff. Basically, I was astounded by the lack of professionalism, and the complete ignorance of the Bill of Rights. I came up with several ideas during this time which floated up during the Sunset Commission, but I began to think that there was no hope. Children were dying, children were being lost, money was misappropriated, and all of this had nothing to do with Jackie. As her lifestyle drifted back to us, as a family, we began to see the true Jackie, and on both sides of the fence, all were glad that she was no longer part of the children’s lives.
My ex remarried, and began to raise the babies in Utah and Killeen. The reason for this was her new husband, Joe, was suffering from Agent Orange and had to constantly travel between Salt Lake and Austin to get treatment. He lost his battle in April of 2015, but not before he formally adopted all the children, and bestowed on them all of his benefits earned from his service to our country, and that service was beyond belief. Three bronze stars and a silver one, Purple Heart, the ol’ Sarge served his last mission and took the hill, leaving his “buddies” set for life.
My ex settled in Utah to raise the children. All was well, except for one little detail. Lying, greedy relations who saw gold in them thar hills, and when my ex had a heart attack, these vultures rose to the occasion, not to help, but to steal! The ex had three heart surgeries, none of which worked, and had to come back to Texas where there are real doctors to get fixed, which she did. A Utah CPS case had been filed on her while she was under the knife, and she drove herself, and the children to safety while bleeding.
Enter one Nacole Wyche! The Utah case followed down to Texas and Ms. Wyche was assigned the case. She’d met the kids before. She had a double degree, one in psychology, and most of all, she was from Killeen! Naturally, while pulling all the knives out of our backs, we were a bit rattled when she showed up. I’ll make a long story short. Nacole Wyche was the epitome of public servant. She was fair, caring, intelligent, and truly loved children. She cut right to the core, and while I won’t tell you details, I will say that maybe, just maybe, we’ve all turned a corner. Previous to this I’d been exposed to case workers who couldn’t even communicate in the English Language. Not Ms. Wyche! This woman should be a writer! In conclusion, I’d like to say, if the “department” is gaining people like Nacole, we just may be blessed!

Nacole: via @TeaPartyTribune

Simple Ol’ Boy From Austin