It's Sunday. I'm talking characters today. People and animals who are unique and interesting. You can find them everywhere if you look hard enough. Not just by the lines in their faces, but what you are able to read between those lines. Character is what remains in spite of changing circumstances. It is what a person or thing has ultimately become at certain stage of life. We love those who have been adventureous and those who have defied the odds. We sometimes find strength in their boldness, or inspiration in their perserverance. I have known many characters. I have embraced them in spite of their varied flaws. God used some of the most unusual characters ever born to deliver his message to us. I know he understood how other people would respond to them because they were imperfect, and how they would respond to Him because He was able to work through their imperfection. The world is a richer place because of the characters we meet.
T. TOM KITTY
T. Tom Kitty,
big headed cat,
lived by my backdoor,
or under my house.
Yellow striped coat.
Aloof attitude.
Proudly scarred, muscled.
No curfew.
Dog baiting warrior,
with panther’s meow.
Rubbing my leg.
Allowing a pat.
T. Tom Kitty,
“Mr.” to you.
T. Tom Kitty,
big headed cat,
lived by my backdoor,
or under my house.
Yellow striped coat.
Aloof attitude.
Proudly scarred, muscled.
No curfew.
Dog baiting warrior,
with panther’s meow.
Rubbing my leg.
Allowing a pat.
T. Tom Kitty,
“Mr.” to you.
Picking a good one - A sweet one.OLD RODEO CHAMP
I saw an old pickup all loaded with melons
one hot summer’s evening not too far from Austin.
Sitting beside it, a graying bent cowboy
in faded blue Wranglers watching the cars pass.
I stopped, we spoke, he arose from his lawn chair,
struggled to stand, and walked to his truck’s bed.
“Good ones?” I asked. “Sweet ones?”
He nodded. “Three dollars a piece or two for a five spot.”
“Pick me a good one.” I said as we stood there.
He turned a few over, and looked at their skin.
“Rabbits won’t scratch the ones that aren’t sweet.”
He said nonchalantly, his blue eyes a’ sparkle.
I found a scarred one and placed it aside.
“I’m Dennis,” I offered.
“I’m Joe,” he replied
“Did you farm all your life?
He answered, “No”.
Then I stood there and listened for two hours or so.
“I’m a Rodeo Champ.” He smiled as he spoke.
“Or I was through the fifties, that’s a few years ago.”
“I did it all. Rough stock, ropin’.
“We had to back then - the purses were small.”
“Bulls were my favorite. Everyone liked them.
I got extra money when side bets were made.”
He told me about it, the good rides, the great ones.
Clay Bank, Poison Ivy, the rankest of all.
Each ride was re-told from cinching to buzzer.
The bucks, the twists, the bruising come downs.
I finally left. He was smiling and waving.
Three bucks and two hours well spent for us both.
I saw an old pickup all loaded with melons
one hot summer’s evening not too far from Austin.
Sitting beside it, a graying bent cowboy
in faded blue Wranglers watching the cars pass.
I stopped, we spoke, he arose from his lawn chair,
struggled to stand, and walked to his truck’s bed.
“Good ones?” I asked. “Sweet ones?”
He nodded. “Three dollars a piece or two for a five spot.”
“Pick me a good one.” I said as we stood there.
He turned a few over, and looked at their skin.
“Rabbits won’t scratch the ones that aren’t sweet.”
He said nonchalantly, his blue eyes a’ sparkle.
I found a scarred one and placed it aside.
“I’m Dennis,” I offered.
“I’m Joe,” he replied
“Did you farm all your life?
He answered, “No”.
Then I stood there and listened for two hours or so.
“I’m a Rodeo Champ.” He smiled as he spoke.
“Or I was through the fifties, that’s a few years ago.”
“I did it all. Rough stock, ropin’.
“We had to back then - the purses were small.”
“Bulls were my favorite. Everyone liked them.
I got extra money when side bets were made.”
He told me about it, the good rides, the great ones.
Clay Bank, Poison Ivy, the rankest of all.
Each ride was re-told from cinching to buzzer.
The bucks, the twists, the bruising come downs.
I finally left. He was smiling and waving.
Three bucks and two hours well spent for us both.
