nos. 1 & 2 = best

http://nobravery.cf.huffingtonpost.com/

The Wild Child -- Starter of riots and near riots.

WalMart -- the site of latest near riot by the Wild Child.

In the enclosed photos, the line of shoppers and the empty shelves are similar to the situation in Walmart.
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Tropical Storm Edouard was due to strike the Galveston area on Aug. 5, 2008. On the day before, eldest daughter Wild Child and I had numerous appointments and errands to run all over Houston. The day was hot and muggy and driving was miserable.

The A/C in the van is out, the driver's side window doesn't roll down (the little motor thingy fell down inside with a resounding clatter so that usually means $$$) so the only source of ventilation is the passenger side window and 2 tiny vents at the rear. No cross ventilation so the interior of the van gets to the melting point for people inside during Houston's 3 digit temps. This fact alone contributes to stress and short tempers.

The day was an exercise in frustrations and annoyances. Tropical Storm Eduoard was forecast to make landfall at Galveston the next A.M. which meant Houston would catch it. It is always wise to have a storm stockpile of survival goods and I had none. The Wild Child was going to spend the storm with me and it was about 9 p.m. by the time we completed other errands and business and arrived at a super Wal Mart to dash in for survival supplies. It was in an unfamiliar neighborhood and we were unacquainted with the layout of the store.

Already hassled and stressed, boiling hot and sweating, we found that literally hundreds of other shoppers had the same idea. The store was jam-packed, half the shelves were empty and we couldn't find anything we needed. At one point there was a long line of people queued up to fill 5 gallon containers with water from a kiosk. Which was fine, as the queue was to the side of the aisle, except the people waiting, INCLUDING ADULTS AND CHILDREN OF ALL AGES, had spread out into the aisle SITTING DOWN ON THE FLOOR HAVING A LATE NIGHT PICNIC LUNCH, completely blocking the aisle. Polite "excuse me" had no effect; they stared round eyed with total lack of comprehension as they did not speak English. We were forced to backtrack to a side aisle and go up several aisles to get to the area we wanted.


When I say shelves were empty, I mean EMPTY, as bad as during the Cuban Crisis.Plus we could not locate the areas where some items might be found. Those mega marts are HUGE! So were the crowds. We were growing more and more frustrated attempting to find the items we needed. The Wild Child's grumblings and rumblings were getting louder and louder, a little more profane, and she was impervious to my shusshes. She has a short fuse for frustrations anyway and she hates crowds. She put her hands on her hips and bellowed, "Are there any Wal Mart employees on duty here?" or something to that effect. The only attention she got was stares from other shoppers. Employees were not to be found.

At another point she demanded, "Where in hell did all these people come from?" then answered her own question, "Oh, I know! From across the border!" Probably quite true for about 80% of the shoppers, but not a politic thing to say. Houston has a population of about 1 million illegal immigrants but when in a horde of non-English speaking adults, we are not supposed to note that they are probably not Hispanic-Americans.

We have emergency generators in our apt bldg for the elderly and handicapped but they only provide power to essential areas, not to our individual apartments. Also, all appliances are electric and our power seems to go out regularly during a mere Houston gully-washer, frog strangler thunder storm. Hurricanes and Tropical Storms increase the odds of a power outage, likely to be prolonged, sometimes for days or even weeks if there is a lot of damage. During one 6 hour outage, I "cooked dinner" by holding frozen tater tots impaled with toothpicks over a candle flame. I found this quite unsatisfactory so wanted to purchase a one burner camp stove with gas bottles as fuel. and a similar coleman lantern. Since I live in an apartment, 7th floor in an elderly and handicapped facility, it would be dangerous in the extreme to use gasoline powered items. Gas bottles were essential.

We could not locate the proper department to find these items and could not find an employee to assist us. Finally Wild Child found a pair of women employees happily yattering in Spanish to each other. She stood politely for a few minutes, waiting to be acknowledged. A couple of "excuse me"s failed to get their attention. Finally she boomed, "Do either of you speak ENGLISH?" Insulted, they avowed they did, so she asked where Sporting Goods could be found. One waved her hand lanquidly encompassing the direction of the entire rear of the store and began chattering to her companion again. Wild Child held her ground and demanded, "Will you SHOW us, PLEASE!" only it did not sound like a polite request. The woman, acting very disgruntled, then led us to the proper department but left without trying to help us find what we needed.

We wandered up and down sporting goods and finally found a few remaining stoves and lanterns - but no gas bottles. Wild Child went on another search and seizure expedition, trying to locate an employee to help us. A young black stock boy allowed himself to be seized but could locate no gas bottles either. The appliances were useless without gas bottles.

This was after numerous misadventures too long to relate and Wild Child was steaming.No, she was boiling. Her rumblings, grumblings and profanity were steadily increasing but as yet personal, not public. I was exhausted from the day's travails and the heat we'd experienced all day, worried that she was on the verge of a truly volcanic explosion , and I was ready to call survival supplies a lost cause. We headed for the checkout aisle.

It was mass and mad pandemonium. There were TWO "20 items or less" checkouts open and TWO regular checkouts open. The lines of waiting shoppers stretched almost to the rear of the store! Literally hundreds! Adults chattered and griped, babies wailed, and little children ran like crazed chickens in and out of the lines, shrieking in play and bumping into people and baskets.


Oh crap! The Wild Child took off like a charging bull, stomping to the front of the store. She collared a male employee and demanded to see the Manager. He spoke virtually no English either and said she was either on the "potty" or the "podium". Wild Child terrified the poor man by slamming her hand down on an empty checkout stand, her heavy Harley Davidson bracelet made a noise like a gunshot, and she demanded to see the Manager. He forgot what little English he knew and just jibbered in Spanish.

I KNEW it was time to get "the hell out of Dodge" but we really needed what items we had managed to find. I started sorting them into my wheelchair basket and her shopping basket and ended with 20 items in each. I suggested to her that we get in the "20 items" checkout lines as they were shorter. After an interminable wait in line we finally made it to the cash register. The cashier was checking out the person in front of us. Wild Child loaded her 20 items onto the conveyor belt. As we waited, we noted a sign saying "Cash only; no ATM or Credit Cards". Exasperated, Wild Child asked if I had enough cash with me, as I usually use my ATM card. (I try not to carry much cash; I'm too old to run or fight if confronted by hoodlums who view old people as easy pickings). A quick check in my wallet revealed that I had sufficient cash.

With escape from the ordeal in view, The Wild Child had simmered down a bit but was still loud in her remarks about "Cash Only" and question about my cash on hand. Since she was standing right by the cashier's conveyor belt and had piled her 20 items on the belt, the cashier was well aware that she was ready to check out. The woman said nothing until she finished with the customer ahead of us, then turned to Wild Child and announced that she was closed.

Ye Gods! The eruption was no ordinary little old Mt. St. Helens nor even a Vesuvius explosion. It was a supervolcanic blowout. With one arm she scooped the entire pile of groceries down the conveyor and scattered them all over the cashier's doodad that checks bar codes, all the while venting her rage and frustration and opinion of the entire mess in an exceedingly loud voice. Rather profanely too. Customers in line within earshot, and that encompassed a LOT of them, began calling out comments in response to her tirade.

I knew I had to get her out, out, OUT - NOW!! As I struggled to get to my feet from the electric wheelchair and stand with my cane, the Manager, who had been noticible by her absence and failure to come to Wild Child's demands to see her, suddenly appeared as if by magic, charging through people and around the cashier's stand.

Are you familiar with the tactic called "walk up on" someone? It is an intimidation tactic, often employed by some people but especially used by gang bangers and other toughs. You approach someone in a very aggressive manner, walking hard and fast, with a hostile expression. With her fists clenched but arms at her side, this little Hispanic Manager pulled that on the Wild Child. Wrong! If she thought this was some pansy assed Gringo that was going to cower back in fear, she was mistaken. The Wild Child has been around the mulberry bush a time or two and she knew the score.

Instead of retreating, the Wild Child stomped forward, "walking up on" the Manager, and gritted at her, "Don't you walk up on me, Bitch! I'll whip your mother f***ing ass all over this store." It was the Manager who stepped back but she glared her hate, rage and humiliation. She had been shamed by being forced to back down in front of employees and the public and she did not like it one bit. Wild Child voiced her considerable displeasure, her opinion of the Manager's abilities by keeping so few employees on duty during an emergency, how the store was run, etc. etc. etc. and she would never shop there again, c'mon Mama let's go, we're leaving, and so on at length, exceedingly loud and admittedly profanely as I hobbled past her, urging her out!

Once the Manager saw that we were leaving, she began ordering us out, trying to gain the upper hand. Crap! That set Wild Child off again and naturally she just had to have the last word. Surprisingly enough, when the two security guards appeared, they scarcely glanced at us, just held the Manager's shoulder saying, "Chill! Chill out!". I thought that odd until I noticed one of them stifling a grin. Made me wonder about the nature of the relationship between the Manager and the employees. Strange.

I do not move very quickly nor well but due to the huge crowd of people stocking up on emergency supplies, we had had to park wa-a-a-y back of the parking lot. By the time we reached the van, we could hear police sirens screaming from both ends of Wallisville Road. I think the power steering pump on the van is going out because it leaks the fluid. Surely enough, as we tried to make our getaway, the darn van went grrowll grrrowl and we had to put fluid in it.

Finally out of the parking lot (as police neared) a pickup truck began honking at us. Wild Child was still on a tear and at that, she tried to leap out to go beat up the man's hood. Fortunately the seat belt restrained her long enough for me to punch it and gain too much speed for her to get out. The man kept honking and Wild Child was mouthing obscenities, still struggling with her seat belt latch. I noticed I had failed to turn on my head lights (my mind was a tad preoccupied) and understood why the man was honking. That got Wild Child tickled and she started laughing at herself - wanting to beat up a man's hood for being helpful and warning us. We escaped safely for which I was quite grateful. I have never been in jail and would like to maintain the status quo until I depart this earthly coil. Also, I didn't want to contemplate my son's reaction if he had to come downtown to bail his sister out of jail, but also his MOTHER!! In such an event, I'm sure the Wild Child would prefer to remain in jail rather than face her brother's wrath.

Then after all this, the blasted storm veered off and didn't hit us.

As usual, in due time she cooled off and then was embarrassed and ashamed of herself for her intemperate behavior. Although I agreed with every point she made, I was somewhat embarrassed also. I do not like huge hullaballoos like that as a rule. I did not chastise her, however. I just told her, "Next time we go somewhere together, will you please remember to TAKE YOUR DAMNED MEDICATIONS!!!"

Some Bipolars calm down in middle age and Wild Child is one of those. She is normally much less volatile now but she does have her moments. Especially if she doesn't take her medicine plus gets too stressed. Her tantrums are often (but not always!) due to a Bipolar episode but her mischief is just The Wild Child, and her mischief can be doozies. She can pull some stunts just because she thinks it's funny. She is an exasperating offspring but I love her dearly - no matter how much she embarrasses me. She is popular and very well liked by her peers and friends, too. Everyone just accepts her as a character. They shrug, laugh and say, "Oh well, that's just Rose Marie." (Rose Marie is one of her aliases. )

Related Post:

Wild Child Nearly Incites a Riot at VA

Labels: wild child - near riot at WalMart

Labels: new life at farmette

To All My Loved Ones

IF I KNEW If I knew it would be the last time I would be there to share your day, well I'm sure you'll have so many more so I can let just this one slip away. For surely there's always tomorrow to make up for an oversight, and we always get a second chance to make everything right. There will always be another day to say our," I love you's," And certainly there's another chance to say our. " Anything I can do's?" But just in case I might be wrong, and today is all I get, I'd like to say how much I love you and I hope we never forget. Tomorrow is not promised to anyone, young or old alike, And today may be the last chance You get to hold your loved one tight. So if you're waiting for tomorrow,why not do it today For if tomorrow never comes, you'll surely regret the day, That you didn't take that extra time for a smile, a hug, or a kiss and you were too busy to grant someone, what turned out to be their one last Wish. So always hold them dear. Take time to say I'm sorry, Please forgive me, Thank you, or It's okay. And if tomorrow never comes, you'll have no regrets about today. Written By: © Author Unknown

Labels: if i knew...

I often post my age as "nine years older than God" but actually I did not exist at the time of the 1918-1919 Influenza Pandemic. I was born and reared rurally on the flat coastal plain bordering the Gulf of Mexico. Country born and country reared, I knew little of city life at that stage of my life. But I was country wise and capable of safely navigating the woods and country areas.

One year I went to the central Texas Hill Country to spend the summer and one school semester with my maternal grand parents at their farm, their first retirement home. The hills were rocky and heavily wooded; the area was sparsely settled and small villages were few and far between. Attending school required about a 20 0r 25 mile bus ride to the nearest real town. I spent happy days horseback riding or roaming the hills with a small .22 rifle and our big dog. Those days were an education in themselves, sometimes quiet and uneventful, sometimes filled with exciting discoveries.

Once I came upon a burned down log cabin, its origin revealed by a few scraps of burnt logs and a fireplace, its still erect chimney pointing forlornly to the tree tops. Blackened shards of glazed pottery, kitchen utensils, a rusted kettle and other artifacts told sad stories of the family that once lived there.

Twin giant evergreens planted an either side of the large rectangular rock that had served as a stoop had far outgrown their intended decorative function so that access to the door would have been impossible. They must have been small when the fire occurred or else they would have been severely damaged or killed by the heat. Domestic perennial plants grown wild and rampant around the yard evidenced that flower beds had once graced the homestead. I deduced that a woman had been one of the residents there. I returned a number of times, prowling around the ruins but finally a continued feeling of sadness drove me away.

Although my grandparents were newcomers to the territory, they attended the tiny local Baptist Church and had been advised of much local history and stories. Church ladies are often great gossipers. I told Grandmother about the burned cabin and she related the history about it.It had been destroyed half a century before and the people never returned to re-build it. It was a very sad story. I gave a great deal of thought about the woman who had resided there, so far back in the hills, and how she had tried to beautify her lonely existence in the cedar breaks by digging and planting in that hard, rocky soil. I thought of the labor carrying buckets of water from the creek to water the plantings, which indicated how she cherished flowers. During the times I prowled around that old homestead, picking up bits of artifacts, she became very real to me and I felt like I knew her.

I became frightened in the hills and breaks only once. Even the dog was frightened. I believed that a horrible Indian massacre had occurred in that lovely glade, but that's another story for another time.


I chanced upon an old abandoned cemetery with tombstones dating back into the previous century and probably back to the time of the early settlers to that part of Texas. Some of the tombstones were professionally made but some were merely slabs of flat rock that someone had chiseled names and dates into them. Some were so old and weathered that the inscriptions were not discernible. The cemetery was overgrown with hard scrabble weeds and some of the tombstones were leaning precipitously. I felt sorry for the little neglected piece of history and began hauling a shovel, hoe and rake up there to do cleanup. It was a peaceful place with wind soughing through the cedars and birds singing in the trees. I spent many hours pulling weeds, hoeing, raking and digging. I dug deep, narrow trenches around the tilted tombstones, shored them up with wedged in stones and hard packed dirt. I enjoyed the hot, sweaty labor and had a tremendous feeling of accomplishment as I finally surveyed the clean, neat cemetery.

I noted that a disproportionate number of the stones were death dated in 1918 or 1919. Even though history says that the hardest hit by the pandemic were young adults, people of all ages succumbed to the disease. There were many graves of babies and children. The area was sparsely settled at my time and I knew the population had to be even smaller and more isolated in the 1900s. So why so many deaths at one time? [ Even in the census of 2007, the population of Belton, the largest town to which country children were bussed to school,was only17,330.]

I was aware of death; death by disease - whooping cough, diptheria, even measles (one of my uncles almost died in a measles epidemic (NOT pandemic) that scourged the countryside when I was a child); death by accidents - drownings, farm accidents, bull goring, snake bites, infections, etc.. But I had no knowledge of mass deaths outside of war. I asked my Grandmother about so many, many deaths in 1918-1919. As was the wont of old people back then, she began with, "well, Honey, back in nineteen and eighteen..." and she told me about the terrible number of people who perished in the influenza pandemenic. I knew of how a disease could flash through the countryside as in the measles epidemic, but such losses as in a pandemic was incomprehensible to me.

Also I puzzled over how the disease was transmitted so readily, especially in a population so sparse and scattered back in the Texas Hill Country in that era. In 1918 the town was scarcely more than a village. ["Belton was founded in 1850, and in early years grew as a rustic trading center for nearby farms and ranches. The first merchant sold goods from his wagon before any stores were built; first “saloon” was a barrel of whiskey and a tin cup under a shade tree. A stagecoach line served the village, and cowboys herding longhorns up to the Chisholm Trail enjoyed rest stops in Belton."] One source of contagion may have been the children bussed to the town school where they became infected. Country men (and rarely the women) might go to town a few times a month where they would be exposed to larger numbers of people. In that era, the hill folk used horse and wagons as primary transportation and 20 or more miles to town was arduous over twisting, up-and down-hill, rough, rocky roads. In town were traders, stage teamsters and passengers, and cowboys arriving from other areas; all could bring contagion with them.And ofcourse, members of the little hill country churches congregated on Sundays and other days of worship and social events, passing the disease around. The Influenza virus was virulent and easily transmitted as witnessed by the number of dead in an isolated part of the country with a low number of population.

If a pandemic arises today, just think of the contagion in today's multi-thousand or million population cities and the number of people entering and leaving every day. Schools can be closed, sporting events, movie houses and other places where people tend to congregate can be closed. But still, people have to work in order to draw paychecks to live on. Foodstuffs and supplies must be purchased.

Mexico is hardest hit so far. It isn't mentioned in the news yet (that I have heard) but can we discount the possibility of frightened Mexicans fleeing their country to United States to take refuge with family or friends here --and bringing the virus with them? It is human nature to flee danger and to try to protect their families. We feel compassion for them but can we risk possible contagion?

Bush established dictatorial powers for the presidency including declaring Martial Law in case of emergencies, forcing citizens to remain in certain areas up to and including isolating them in camps. A Pandemic is an emergency, quarantining is necessary, preventing carrying the virus to other areas is needful -- would Obama exercise the powers set up by Bush in order to protect the nation??

This is a serious danger to our people and to the nation. Everyone should read and heed the advice disseminated by the CDC and the government. Be as safe as possible and hope this threat fizzles out like the Bird Flu did.

Article below in next post.

Labels: pandemic

Captain James Harlow dedicated 30 years of his life protecting and serving the citizens of Houston and could have retired this year.


Rookie Firefighter Damion Hobbs survived a 14 month tour of duty, returned to fulfill his dream of becoming a firefighter. He completed training, was posted to Station 26 and perished in his first fire.
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Fire Fighters worldwide have a special bond between them as Brothers. Those fire fightes who serve in the same station develope an especially close bond. Due to the long hours on duty, families spend a great deal of time at the stations. so everyone gets to know each other very well.

In 1979-1980 my son-in-law, C.G. "Ski" Ubernosky, husband of my daughter, Dorothy, served at the same station with Captain Harlow. Over the years they each served at different stations as they climbed their career ladders but retained the brotherly bond. Both attained the rank of Captain in the Houston Fire Department. C.G. retired several years ago but James was still on active duty. He could have retired this years with 30 years in.

In '79 or '80 a drunk rear ended Dorothy's little Z-28 sports car at a red light as she was going home from work. The impact was so great it broke the driver's seat loose from its moorings, causing it to fall backwards, flat on the floorboards. Dorothy was pinned flat also. Because of shock and her injuries and the fact that the driver's door was crushed shut, she could not extricate herself from the wreckage.

James Harlow was one of the first responders to the wreck and recognized the car as belonging to Ski's wife. He ran to the car, calling out, "Mrs. Ski! Oh, Mrs. Ski!" and wormed his way inside the car. He attended to her injuries, calmed and comforted her until her husband arrived and she was taken away by ambulance.

When the TV news reported Captain Harlow's death, C.G. wept.

I live in an apartment complex reserved for the elderly and handicapped. It is in the jurisdiction of Station 26 and they are called here often for emergency help to the old people. They have attended me and took me to hospital several times and once to help me get up after I had fallen. The firefighters and paramedics were always kind and professional. It was grievous to have 2 of them perish.

More posts below on this tragedy.

Labels: firefighters perish in LOD

Labels: Hobbs Killed LOD HFD, Watson

Two fallen firefighters remembered in Houston procession

Firefighters took different paths to tragic end

Labels: lod hfd deaths

On Thursday the Houston Fire Department honored two of their comrades killed in the line of duty. Hundreds marched along the Gulf Freeway feeder road to Grace Community Church. Video by Jason Witmer, Meg Loucks and Julio Cortez. April 16, 2009