Not If My Life Depended On It....

They say, that there are a few jobs that you wouldn't do for all the money in the world.  I have done one of those and lived to talk about it.  I am not the only one that has shared the experiences of this job, but would like to think that I have come out a better man from it's experiences.

You will find them all over the world fulfilling the expectations of just about each and everyone one of us at one time or another.  We pass by them everyday and without a second thought continue on our way, blotting out what THEY must be going through to achieve the goals set by us as a community. and I must agree when looking back, I'm not sure if I would do it again. 

The job consist of several demands that are out of the ordinary. They rise usually about 4 a.m. to prepared for the day.  In many cases, only after preparing their family for the day ahead do they prepare themselves for what is ahead of them.  Once those duties are done. they leave home in the dark and make their way to their place of business.  Once there and only after helping to UP the moral and spirits of the others who share this job do they face the first duty of the day and that is to ensure the equipment needed for their task is also ready for it's day.

 In many cases this is done in weather that most of us wouldn't ever consider going out into.  It may range from temperatures ranging from below zero up to scalding heat not any less then those found in the worst deserts on earth.  Driving wind and rain are only a part of what they may find facing them as well as the dark of night. Their tool of trade most of us wouldn't dare consider using, yet we as a society expect them to use it at a expert level each and everyday. On average it is about 37 feet long and 9 feet wide. It stands usually about 11 feet high and will hold safely up to 71 passengers. 

Ahhh... I think your getting the picture... Yes it's usually bright yellow, in fact it's color has become a standard for this shade of color.  Yes, that's right SCHOOL  BUS YELLOW... Welcome to the world of the School Bus Driver and for some. who lucky, their Assistants.

I know these people. I have been one of them, trained many of them and helped so they can make the ride for your children as safe as humanly possible.  So lets look at when these amazing people do each and every morning for us and  our children.

At usually about 6 a.m. they place themselves out on our public roads to take on and endure the wrath of that which is before them. The sun is not yet up no are many of us.  But their there,  driving the highways, city streets and country roads to pick up and deliver your children to and from school each day.

Now add to this the increasing amount of traffic that is slowly growing as the minutes into their morning routes continues. They are there for you, taking your kids to school for those who don't want to be on the road or going to work with a sense of "get out of my way".  Or our minds are not on our driving, it's on what our day ahead of us has to offer us.  Most School Bus Drivers will agree that their passengers are not the problems in the morning.  It's dodging the other drivers on the road.  The kids are not yet totally awake yet and step on the bus with a mumble and dragging their backpacks behind them.

 The danger is the lady in the mini-van in front of your bus applying the makeup, talking on the phone and trying to dress the 3 year old that is in the backseat while driving. Yes, I have personally seen it.  Or the man who is shaving, texting and already 30 minutes into his day at the office through the phone while he is still 30 miles away from work.  Lets not forget the guy who is constantly 15 minutes late for work and expects everyone, especially that school bus to get out of his way. 

Ahhh.... but about half way through the route the kids have now woken up and have decided that its time to make their presence known.  Keep in mind, that in most cases the ages ranges from 5 years old to 16 year old "I know everything" teenagers who have not found a friend or got a car that can get them of this "Stupid Bus".

Bobby took Helen's chocolate milk, which wasn't suppose to be opened on the bus in the first place, then threw the dripping, half filled box at Herbert just because Herbert looked at him wrong yesterday afternoon.  Half of them are no longer staying in their seats and Scarlet is letting her long beautiful blonde hair hang out of the very last window in the back and they are coming up to that tree that sometimes brushes against that side of the bus right when that crazy lady with the eye liner pencil is pulling up beside the bus on the other side.

So..... If by chance you see a School Bus Driver who has just finished her/his morning route, do like we do the Veterans and thank them for what they do for us....

Then....  tell them good luck on their afternoon run....

Later.... We will talk about the life of being the General Manager of the School Bus Drivers.

Oh.... the stories I could tell....

Onward Thru The Fog...

Johnny

10/20/2015

Cousin James' Roping Pen

I can remember, as a young boy, going to our Cousin James' roping pen on the week-ends evenings for my Dad to practice his roping. It sat high on a hill overlooking the river valley that we called home just southeast of Austin.

It was a summer outing where many of the ranchers in our area gathered to share quality time. It was where stories of what had happened during the week and updates on what was going on in our own little corner of Texas.

My mom and the other woman gathered along the fence line in their folding chairs to catch up on the local gossip or stories of what the "kids" had surprised them with during the week. A good recipe was always shared if anyone had one or maybe a update on how the canning was coming on the summer gardens.

The men would pull their horses from the trailers, saddle them and lead them into the arena to exercise them. They started with first a walk, then a trot and ending up with a full gallop around the oval shaped arena. I can remember Dad tipping his hat as he went by the ladies and my Mom wishing him Good Luck. then they would tie the horses along the far fence line to wait the start of the roping. I can remember my father walking among his friends with his hand always out for a handshake and a smile.

Before the sun dropped under the hillside, I and my brothers and friends would play games of Hide and Seek among the cars. Sometime the last of the evening light was used to catch grasshoppers and stuffed into a Dr. Pepper bottle with the hopes of going fishing the next day. As darkness took over the hilltop the fireflies floated in the pasture and dirt parking lot and we scattered to catch them.. Then we would bring both of our captures to our mother and show off our "catching" talents.

By the time the lights came on over the arena the calves had been brought from the far end of the pens and the men were loosening up their ropes while stretching their horses legs with quick bursts out of the chute.

Each man took their turn backing their horse into the small enclosure next to the chute. It was then that everything went quite and everyone's focus settled on the man and his horse.
When he was ready, the cowboy would give a nod of his head and the chute gate flew open. The calf would burst out and down the arena with our fathers close behind. With two swings of the rope the loop would fly and hopefully find itself around the calf's neck and the horse would slide to a stop with its back legs set in the dirt to prepare for the snap of the rope bringing
the calf to a wrenching stop. The man would already be off his horse and within a few seconds would have the calf down and with two quick loops and a cinch of his pegging rope have the animal secured.

The older "boys" got their chance at roping when the goats were brought out. Goats were what you learned to rope on... Graduating up to the smaller calves then to the heavy heifers that came with the coming of manhood. It was one of the ways we and the community knew when a boy became a man when he was no longer playing kick the can with his little brothers and friends but standing beside his Dad on his own horse waiting his turn in line to rope.

Finally, with tired horses, worn out kids, and mosquitos taking over the night, the horses were put back in their trailers, hugs were given and with a wave or honk of the truck horn we all headed home down the hill.

I can remember always looking back and watched trying to catch the moment the arena lights went out marking the end of a great night with our family and friends.

We left the ranch before I had the chance to join my Father and his friends in this tradition of this part of ranching. But I still to this day catch the sound of the grasshoppers in the weeds as they start their nightly songs and think back of those good times. Now with camera in hand, I go to visit the local men and their families in a near- by arena.   I sit high in the bleachers and watch them live and enjoy a lifestyle that I hope will never end.

That's part of being Raised Country

Johnny
10/9/2016

My Fears and One Hope

I know that with the coming of age there comes new fear in one's life.

I understand that old age is part of life and each of us have a limited time to be here on earth.

What I fear is what may happen to me in my coming years.

These are my fears;

That my daughter will grow up and ask me to let her go....

Others will think bad of me and shut me out...

I will fail to teach others the importance of believing in God.

I will not be kind enough to others....

I will forget what my Father and Mother taught me....

I will not be there for someone when they needed me....

And then there is my one and only hope.

It is that I will be allowed to remember how fortunate I have been to have lived such a wonderful life.

 I have worked hard for my memory's, my only hope is that I be allowed to enjoy them.

Please help us all by contributing to the fight to find a cure to Alzheimer's Disease.

Pride

It didn't hit me until three days after taking this photo that I realized the connection it and I have.

 I come from a family of  6 Men who were raised to individually stand on our own merits, but with the reassurance that the others are not far away if needed.

As a family we are known by most as "The Glass Boys" and I would have it no other way.   

I am #5.

Childhood Friends

It's amazing how you were so close to your childhood friends but now you think back and wonder, "where are they now?".

I tried to explain it to my daughter once after we moved from one state to another.

She was missing her friends and feeling down.  I asked her to close her eyes and think of one of her friends.

As she did, she smiled and I told her "You see,  their still your friend because when you think of her, you smile".

Friendships can last forever.

The Texan Drummer Boy...

TOl   Bo..... Its hard to find Good Friends... Then sometimes they just come along.... That was Bo...

I'll miss ya guy.... Drum on....

                Twas the night before Christmas and all though the house

Not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.

The lawn ornaments cast a light glow on the yards down the street,

And Jingle Bells could be heard playing from the house across the creek.

From down the street came a number of low thumping sounds,

we wondered what it was when right after came the barking of hounds.

Next came the sharp rap from what sounded like someone tapping on a piece of tin.

That’s when realized it was coming from the home of that Crazy Texan.

We walked down the road to find out what was all the ruckus,

With my wife gripping about letting these crazy people move in among us.

We snuck across their yard and worked our way up to the window of their new shed.

Where the noise was coming out loud enough to wake the dead.

We peaked in the window and was amazed to see,

A white bearded fellow with a set of drum around his knees,

His Son-in-law was hitting a heavy bass,

his Daughter was play a steel guitar that fit right in place.

One of his Grand-Daughters sang Lead accompanied by her Sister

Grandma sat across the room working the sound mixer.

tweaking the knobs and switches to make it all sound just right.

Her t-shirt said “Yea, they call me the  fixer.

Some of the other neighbors sat of the floor swaying to the beat,

And when “Santa Bo” went into a solo they jumped to their feet.

His sticks were moving so fast while banging out the beat

It was quite obvious that he knew how to give the crowd a treat.

By the end of his solo the whole neighborhood stood there

listening and clapping totally amazed.

Then we danced and party’d until the early morning haze.

When finally we could party no more

He walked us to the door

and with final rap of his sticks on the garage door

as it slid slowly down we heard him sing out.

Hope ya'll enjoyed it folks,

it was fun having you here

Merry Christmas to all

and a Happy New Year!!!!

His Sign

By John C. Glass

Not long ago, I was sitting on my patio having my early morning 
coffee.   I had spent a sleepless night tossing and turning thinking about bills, work, and what the future held for my family.  It had seemed that no matter what I did lately, there was a grey cloud hanging over me that just wouldn’t go away.

I was confused over why my life had taken such an awful turn for the worse?  I had been “raised right”. My parents had instilled in me the good basic trait of honor, loyalty, caring that are the foundation our family had always felt were needed for a person to live a life of worth.  But lately it seemed that no matter what I did I felt I was being punished for something.  So much so that I was starting to second guess my beliefs towards the existence of an all powerful God.  

I didn’t understand.  If there was a God with such an understanding and love for His people, what had I done to seem to make Him turn His back on me?   I had been taught that no matter what, He was there and that He was always listening.  I had been told that no matter what happens I should keep my faith in Him.  I had been raised to follow His commandments, which I always tried to do, even though I knew I had faltered like most men do from time to time.  Still, I considered myself and hoped that others also saw me as a kind, considerate and loving man.

I dropped my head, closed my eyes and for the first time in a long time, I prayed to my God.  I told Him of my worries, my concerns, my fears and finally my grievance that it seemed He had forsaken me to the point that I was questioning His existence. 

Then, I challenged him.  I asked Him to give me a sign that He was still there for me, it didn’t have to be a big sign, no parting of the seas or window rattling earthquake.  Just something to tell me that He was still there and that what I had been brought up to believe was true.  I was not asking or expecting it to happen immediately.  I told Him that I would try to be patient and prayed that I would recognize His sign when it did come to me.  

 Returning from my prayer, I thought of what I had just done.  Did I deserve asking God for proof of His existence?  I thought of the old adage of being a “God Fearing Man”. Had I pushed Him too far? Where did I think I had the right to question His existence?  I opened my eyes and looked around.  So far the world had not stopped spinning nor had it opened and swallowed me up.  Actually I, for some reason, seemed to feel a little more at ease.

Before I knew it, my mind had shifted into neutral and I sat enjoying the warmth of the morning sun.  I heard giggling and the shuffling of children’s feet on the  sidewalk in front of my house then slowly they seemed to drift away,  allowing me to slip farther into a light nap.

Then, I heard “You…,“ No You”….. from my driveway and as I was trying to figure out if this was for real or a dream  there came the sound of light feet approaching my patio gate.    

 As if to settle the question, very quietly I heard a boy’s voice “Excuse me… Say Mister”.  There stood three young boys about ten or eleven years old. Two of them stood side by side holding between them a large sack.  Directly in front of them stood the third, his feet planted firmly and his arms folded across his chest holding two objects that I could not quite make out. 

Still not sure if I was up to or wanted to listen to whatever it was they wanted, I contemplated ignoring them.  Yet, there was something about 'the look" of  this young boy that reminded me of another young boy who had been hell bent on taking on the world about fifty years ago.  I acknowledge their presence and asked what I could do for them.

Surprisingly, he answered that it was not what I could do for them, but what they could do for me and with that, he started his magic.

“Sir, we are here to offer you the opportunity to buy from us these fine pine cones” thrusting one forward to show me.

 Walking to the gate I looked down at the boy and the pine cones.  In one hand he held a cone that was still tightly closed and rock hard.  In the other hand was a fully opened cone oozing pine sap and shedding its seeds on my sidewalk when he shook it.  Obviously, I had no need for their products, but I couldn’t help wanting to see how strong the salesmanship in this young man was. 

“Yes, I must say, those are fine looking pine cones but tell me, just how could I use them, son?”  I asked. Without hesitation his comeback was “Why sir, you can grow your own pine cone tree!  Trying to catch him off guard, I responded “But that would take a very long time and I may not be around to see it grow tall.  What else could I use these pine cones for? ”

“They’re great for throwing at noisy dogs or cats” as he reached through the gate and pitched the still closed, rock hard cone to me.  Instinctively I caught it, and by doing so, I had become the “possessor” of the cone.  This would make it harder for me to give it back if I chose not to buy his product.  It was obvious this young man had learned the tools of a true salesman at a very early age.  I was impressed.

Stalling for time to figure out my next remark, I rolled the cone around in my hand then acted as though I was checking it’s aerodynamics by tossing it up in the air a few times.  I answered with “Hmmmmmm,  yes I bet they would, but… I don’t want to make my neighbors angry at me for throwing pine cones at their pets. Could there be anything else I can use these pine cones for?”

For the first time he seemed to be caught without an answer, he stood looking at his feet deep in thought, as he rolled the other pine cone between his palms. The two friends behind him nervously shuffled the almost full bag which surely held every loose pine cone for a two block radius.  Guessing that this sale was not going to happen, one of them started to thank me for my time when suddenly the salesman jerked his head up with a big smile, looked me straight in the eyes and said,

Sir, If you were to take and tie it to a stick, you would have a very nice Pine Cone Back Scratcher."    I thought about it for a  couple of seconds.  I mean it was quite obvious, it only made sense, he was right. Why If I were to tie this fine pinecone to a stick, I would surely have The world’s greatest and probably the world's only pine cone back scratcher.   
                            
Well, I had to have it.

“So son, you’ve sold me. How much do you want for these pine cones?  Again without pause his answer was, “For you sir,  I will let you have these fine pine cones for only 50 cents each, or four for two dollars, then turning to look at his two best friends with,  I have no doubt. a wink in his eye he threw his last pitch at me. Or give us ten bucks Sir, and you can have the whole bag.”

I called out to my wife to bring me two dollars.   The others two boy’s eyes lit up like they had just hit the lottery.  I proudly paid for my four World’s Greatest Pine Cones, thanked the boys for giving me the opportunity of buying such wonderful items and watched as they scampered down my sidewalk. 

As they left, the bag carriers slapped their #1 salesman on his back as he looked around for the next customer.  The last thing I heard him say was, “It’s simple guys, ya just gotta believe, if you believe, there’s just about nothing that can’t happen”. Then he turned back to me, threw me that smile one more time and we waved to each other.

 I sat back down and thought about what had just happened.   I smiled to myself thinking about the confidence the young boy had shown and his strong belief that he was not going to be turned down, no matter what. This young boy who had made the decision before he even reached my gate, that if there was anyone there to listen to him, he was going to sell that person at least one of his pine cones.

 He had not known what or who was around that corner but that didn’t matter.  He was going to get his message across to whomever he met, no matter what.  There was no second guessing that, because, there was no second guessing his beliefs.

It was only then did I realize that God had brought this boy to my gate to give me the answer to my prayer.   Stunned and yet at ease, I realized that I need not worry, nor ever again second guess the existence and the power of my God.  

I closed my eyes and prayed again, thanking Him for His sign that I “just gotta believe” and that if I do, He’ll always be there for me.

Lord…. Show me your way.