.
Craig and Rhonda were coming in last Thursday evening,
But we got a call saying their granddaughter was arriving.
So they headed south to Houston driving a little bit fast,
And Aria was born right at 5:08 PM Friday evening at last. Continue reading
.
Craig and Rhonda are headed out here from Pahrump,
Out there in Nevada where the pronghorn antelope jump.
And the tall mountains are there on the horizon.to see.
That look so beautiful in the pictures they did send me. Continue reading
.
We planned a summer trip to Dad’s little mountain cabin,
With Craig and Rhonda’s family in early 1984 once again.
In late June, we headed to South Fork ready for big fun,
Mom and Dad were waiting for the families of their sons. Continue reading
.
My brother Craig married Rhonda up there in Las Vegas
On one joyous day because she was so very gorgeous.
Their love had bloomed and they were right for each other.
It was easy to see they were so in love with one another. Continue reading
.
There once was a Hawg Jaw that tried to write Billericks,
Who wasn’t too good with the short four line pick ups.
But he just didn’t care because he was getting no pay,
So all he did was to make it silly as around he did play. Continue reading
.
These poems are tall tales of retired engineers that could be true,
Who did things a little different than the average person might do.
And were criticized by others before they knew all of the facts,
So don’t judge old guys too fast that may be smarter than they act. Continue reading
Running The Trot Line
.
Fishing was a pastime sport that all my family did love so fine,
We preferred to catch fish with a rod and reel most of the time,
But occasionally my Dad liked to run a trot line for catfish at night,
So we headed to the lake, spending a night, to do the job right. Continue reading
.
When Craig and I went hunting, we didn’t go for the wild goose,
But when we saw one during the season out there on the loose,
We were ready for them with special shells in our hunting vest.
This poem detailing a time we shot one, may be of some interest. Continue reading
H
We became expert duck hunters in our younger years.
This poem details how we hunted the ducks out there.
In the Texas Panhandle at Lake Meredith near Amarillo.
Try these methods and you too will do well, I know it’s so. Continue reading
My Brother Craig
.
As I’ve said before, brothers have a special relationship forever,
Brotherly love is what always has held us very close together,
The poem very briefly touches on some of the fun times we had,
As young men growing up together as outdoor loving young lads. Continue reading