About ME

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Mansfield, Texas, United States
Mr. E is a Christian, Husband, Father of 2, former Army Officer and Texas Rangers Baseball fan.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

A Reluctant Ride (Tears of the Singer, cont...Chapter 1, Part 2)

The Singer entered into Ramey-Jem's nearly empty parking lot and paused to shift his backpack over his shoulder. A few minutes after that evening's show, one of the wait staff, named Rosemary, had told him that C.J.'s son, Justin, may have cancer. C.J. was waiting to hear from Justin about the results of test that had been run earlier that day. He knew C.J. would never ask for one of his magical tears for himself; especially after he had already received a tear 2 years earlier, when they had first met. C.J.'s mother, Althea, was still heavily grieving the death of her daughter 39 years after Jem's death. Althea would go into periods of depression that would keep her locked in her room for months. It was a heavy burden on the family. When C.J.'s father died, he and his wife, took on the task alone. The stress of having a depressed mother living with the family became such burden that C.J.'s wife had left him and his only son. C.J. was on the verge of suicide when the Singer appeared at his club looking for a gig. That night C.J. received one of the Singer's miracle tears. C.J.'s life changed forever. This was the Singer's third visit to Ramey-Jems and it would be his last. He would miss C.J.

The Singer walked towards the unpaved road that led to the main road into the nearby town of Hubbard. The only vehicle left in the parking lot was an old faded blue pick-up truck with a rusty white top. The hood was up and the owner was tinkering with the engine. The Singer was glad he walked everywhere he went. He didn't have to worry about car trouble or the price of gasoline. Unless he was sick or injured in some way, he could always leave or stay where ever he wanted. He was in control of his own destiny, at least when it came to transportation.

The Singer had just gone far enough down the road, to escape the flickering fluorescent lights of the parking lot when he heard the truck's engine crank. The truck pulled out of the lot and started down the road towards him, the headlights cast his shadow in front of him. As the truck neared, the driver slowed down and moved along side him. The passenger side window rolled down, "Need a lift?" the driver asked. The driver was wearing a San Francisco Giants baseball cap over thick dark hair. The Singer tried to ignore the man and kept walking. "It's a good 5 miles into town you know," the driver persisted. The Singer knew how far it was into Hubbard, he had walked it before with no trouble at all. "It's not a problem you know," the driver insisted, "I'm heading through town anyway." The Singer stopped. Normally he would just keep walking. He enjoyed his time alone, but tonight...tonight he was just tired. The truck stopped beside him. "So, you gettin' in?" the driver asked.

The Singer opened the passenger door and slid inside the cab. He placed his backpack between him and the driver, creating a barrier between them, and positioned his guitar between his legs. "Thanks," he said softly.
"My name's Thomas by the way," the driver said with huge grin on his face, "Thomas Morrill." He then extended his hand out towards the Singer. When the Singer did not respond, the grin faded and the hand pulled back. Thomas put the truck into gear and started forward. "You do have a name don't you?" Thomas tried to make conversation. The Singer just sat silently and turned his head slightly to the right away from the driver. "That is mighty fine thing you do you know, with the tears and all that." The Singer shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "How do you do that?"
Not wanting to discuss his so called gift, The Singer replied, "Josh." It was almost a whisper.
"Pardon?" Thomas wasn't sure he had heard the Singer at all. "My name is Josh." the Singer said a little louder. "Nice to meet you Josh," Thomas smiled and extended his hand again. This time Josh, The Singer, shook it.

Tears of the Singer is a book that I am writing. I am posting new segments from time to time and when I am finished I will publish it as a whole for the public to buy. For those who follow my blog...you can read it for free, even if it is one little piece at a time. Click here to read the Prologue and here to read Chapter 1, Part 1.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

And the GOP Candidates Are....? (So Far)

The Republican list of Candidates who hope to oust President Obama, is growing. The number is now up to 10.

Here is the List of Republicans who have officially declared their candidacy so far... (By the way, no Democrat has filed to run for President against current President Barack Obama!)

Michele Bachmann -- U.S. Congresswoman from Minnesota

Herman Cain ... Former Federal Reserve Banker and Businessman from Georgia.

Newt Gingrich ... Former Speaker of the House from Georgia

Jon Huntsman, Jr. -- Former Governor of Utah and U.S. Ambassador to China and Singapore.

Gary Johnson ... Former Governor of New Mexico

Ron Paul ... U.S. Congressman from Texas

Tim Pawlenty ... Former Governor of Minnesota

Buddy Roemer ... Former Governor of Louisiana

Mitt Romney ... Former Governor of Massachusetts

Rick Santorum .. Former Governor of Pennsylvania

I am sure there will be at least two/three more before it's over; however, these are your Republican choices for the moment.

By the way I am neither Republican or Democrat, I am just very interested in politics.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

It's 3:00 a.m. and All's Well! (Tears of the Singer cont...Chapter 1, Part 1)

"It's 3:00 a.m.! " shouted C.J. as he locked the doors of Ramey-Jem's. The four remaining employees responded with a tired, yet enthusiastic, "And all's well!" C.J. Allen has been the proud owner of Ramey-Jem's for over 35 years now and the customary yell and response has been repeated every night since he closed the doors for the first time. Even his managers continued the tradition when C.J. was on a rare trip out of town. The parking lot, which moments earlier was full of cars, mostly pickup trucks, was starting to empty. Hours earlier the cars occupants had filled the club to capacity. They arrived angry, hurt, anxious and troubled. All of them had left at peace, profoundly changed by the magical tears of the mysterious stranger and his "song." It had been a full house tonight; "the Singer" was in town.

C.J.'s light brown skin was finally starting to show the wrinkles of age. His hair finally showing a touch of gray. His father, Charles Sr., had owned the place for 20 years before passing away in his sleep. Charles Sr., had purchased the club at auction, when the previous owner went bankrupt. It was rare at the time that a black man could own a club in the South, but C.J.'s father added some improvements, changed the name to Ramey's and he had made it work and now C.J. proudly carried on the family business. He had inherited Ramey's from his father and had added Jem to the name in honor of his sister. Jem Allen passed away when the family home caught fire the day after Christmas, when C.J. was 15. Jem was only 12 years old. His family grieved for years. It was " the Singer" who had finally brought relief to C.J. and his mother. It was a miracle. Ramey, by the way, was the name of his father's pet cat.

As the remaining staff, continued their closing duties, C.J. looked over to the corner of the stage. The Singer was packing his guitar into his case. This was the third time the Singer had visited Ramey-Jem's. He always took cash as his payment, never a check. C.J. was not even sure what his real name was. He might have mentioned his name the first time they met, but that was a couple of years ago. He was a young man, but he rarely smiled. He had the look of someone who always had a lot on his mind. The Singer wore a worn down pair of boots, which looked like they used to be a nice pair of alligator skins, a pair of blue jeans, a wrinkled white shirt and a faded brown leather jacket. "Where you heading next?" C.J. called out to him. "Not sure," the Singer mumbled, as he snapped the case shut. The Singer had never been much for words.

Ramey-Jem had seen it's share of famous folks. Clint Black, Don Williams, Alan Jackson and even Merle Haggard had performed on the small stage. All of them bringing fans and followers with them; but none of them packed the house like the Singer did. After all, they didn't have what the Singer had to offer. While the others provided entertainment, the Singer provided more. He offered something special; hope. Hope in the form of something so small.

The Singer moved towards the main exit. C.J. unlocked the door for his guest. "You sure you don't want to stay the night at my place tonight? Ruth (C.J.'s wife) will fix you up a mighty fine breakfast." "Thanks," the Singer replied wearily, "I'd better get going!" The Singer started out the door and then stopped. He turned around and put out his hand. C.J. took the Singer's hand and shook it. As they shook, the Singer pass a small "gift" to his host. "Had a feeling you might need this tonight," the Singer said. C.J. looked down. In his hand was a small blue crystal in the shape of a tear, it was glowing faintly. "How did you know?" C.J. replied, as tears started to well in his eyes; but the Singer had already stepped out into the darkness.

Tears of the Singer is a book that I am writing. It has been a while since I have written. Thanks to the encouragement of a co-worker at Starbucks, I am restarting my project. I will post new segments from time to time and when I am finished I will publish it as a whole for the public to buy. For those who follow my blog...you can read it for free, even if it is one little piece at a time. To read the Prologue, click here.