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Ok, I know this is a dated story and yes, I'm cheating today and re-hashing something old, but like I always say, we all eat the same kind of foods at different times, so why not re-read an old story once in a while.

This past year has been a good one for me. Many of my personal dreams and ideas are coming to pass and I must say I look forward to the new year with a new fervor and delight. I know that regardless of the everyday occurrences in one's life, the overall outcome is still gonna be alright. I'm secure in my faith and beliefs in God and in him I place all my trust, well, sort of, well, almost anyway, unless one decides to tempt fate and do something stupid.  I just hope my stupid days in life are over.

I had enough of those times as a young boy, but I have had a new chill run up my neck a couple of weeks ago that made me re-think my moves and habits up at the ranch.
Now I need to preface this story with a fact. For those of you who do not know me, I am pretty straight laced in my lifestyle, so I can tell you this story with a straight face and a clear mind.

The family ranch is located in Independence, which is north of Brenham about twelve miles. We are in Washington County and our property backs up to a creek named Yegua Creek, which is the spillway for Lake Somerville. (Yegua is pronounced Yeah Wall for all of you folks who can't speak Texan. Another confusing issue is Kuykendahl, pronounced Kur Ken Dial for those of you new to our area) The land is really isolated and has boundaries surrounded by several thousand acres on all sides that are inhabited by less than ten or so people. There is no though traffic and only one way in and one way out. During hard rains we can actually get flooded in, as the water rushes over the road. We are in a fairly remote area for these parts.

About the second week of November, on a cool, crisp afternoon, I was leaving the ranch just about sunset. As I drove down the one lane road approaching our gate, my mind was in a numbed state because I had just finished a couple of hours of relaxation while doing my chores.

Now I know that statement is a bit contradictory. You may ask how can I relax while working? For me, personally, working with my cattle or just messing around outside is relaxing. It can be blazing hot or freezing cold, but if I am away from my desk at work, the pressures of life seem to flow away while I am busting my body doing manual labor. Now all you people who work outside all day probably do think I'm a bit crazy feeling that way, but it's true. I enjoy the manual labor even though it's hard work. My mind is free and all I need to worry about is making sure I don't get myself tangled up in tractor parts or barbed wire and make sure one of my cows doesn't knock me down and hurt me.

Anyway, I finally made it to the gate and got out to lock it. After closing the gate and placing the padlock, I turned to walk back to my truck and I happened to take one last view of the land ahead, as a movement caught my eye in the brush.

"What is that," I thought and my mind immediately said "oh, it's just an old coyote".

I again surveyed the animal and said to myself "wait, a coyote doesn't slink though the grass like that!" Wow, look at the size of that creature! Look at its tail! That sucker has got to be at least seven or eight feet long! That's, that's, that's a cougar!"

And as suddenly as my mind grasped hold of what I was seeing it had already slipped into the next clump of bushes and I did not see it again. 

The animal was a beautiful, extremely dark coated animal, almost black in color and it was in a stalking mode. I don't know if it was approaching a rabbit, squirrel, bird or what, but the cat I saw was an honest to goodness mountain lion or cougar, if you will!

As I drove away in somewhat disbelief I was a bit taken back by what I had just seen. I was reluctant to share this with anybody as I know they would think I am crazy!
After a week or so I got up the nerve to talk to a hog hunter in the area named Zeke. When I mentioned this to Zeke he went to cussin' and sputterin' about wanten' to wrap that cat around the local biologist's neck!

It seems Zeke has seen this cat for several years, but the local authorities have told him that cougars are no longer in this area. I think Zeke is pleased that two of us have now seen this cat.

I'm still secure in my personal faith but this sighting has made me re-think those quiet walks through the woods. I think I may start carrying some added protection. A faith-booster if you will…


- Clifford

I was making my way home several years ago down Hufsmith Road and was about to round the deep corner before you get to Mama Goodsons old café site. I was traveling east on the inside corner, when I noticed a cow in the pasture to my right. She was on her front knees rocking back and forth like she was about to try and leap into the air. I then noticed her rear legs were nowhere to be seen and she appeared to have both back legs amputated. I thought to myself how cruel somebody must be to take off her back legs and leave her in the pasture to fend for herself. I then realized this cow was in serious trouble. She had already worked up a great deal of saliva in her mouth, which is a good indication of stress on a cow.
I stopped the car and dodged a few cars, whose occupants were of course wondering what kind of foolishness I was up to, as I made my way over to the fence.
I could tell this poor cow was in great need of help as her rear legs had both become victim of a small sinkhole and were obviously dangling in thin air several feet below the earth.
I knew the family living in the house, so I made my way to the home of Mr. and Mrs. Foley. As I got back to my car the cow finally freed herself, but she had peeled the hide off the front of her back legs.   
It seems a pipeline had been buried on their property several years ago and the ground had sunk around the pipe. This cow had torn her legs on the buried line when she fell into the hole. I went ahead and drove up to their home and reported the problem for which they were thankful.  
Mr. and Mrs. Foley once occupied the property known to me as the Old Mahaffey Place. I don't know if this is factual, but local history tells me Mr. Mahaffey was the first postal carrier here in our area from many, many years ago. The post office at Hufsmith used to deliver the first mail to this entire area. Now, once again I want to say this is local story only, but I am told Hufsmith used to deliver mail to Tomball, Rosehill, Cypress, Klein and Spring and a part of the Oklahoma community. The nice thing about local history is it can get all jumbled up to make the story more exciting and there are only a few people who can really verify the truthfulness of the story, so with each and every retelling of the same story the truth gets stretched more and more.
As I was talking to Mr. and Mrs. Foley my Grandma Osgood and Aunt Agnes Williams came to mind and Mrs. Foley and I both had a good laugh.
Grandma and Aunt Aggie were two soul mates. During their later years in life they attached themselves to each other like bread and butter. Grandma was a shorthaired lady with white hair and Aunt Aggie had long dark hair. Aunt Aggie drove a car and grandma didn't. Aunt Aggie lived alone after Uncle Percy died and grandma didn't like living alone when grandpa died. Grandma fished and I never saw Aunt Aggie fish. Aunt Aggie made a big garden every year and I don't remember grandma's gardens as being very big.  Two women of opposite ideas and lives, but so closely knit they were inseparable. Where one lady went, so went the other.
Several years ago Mrs. Foley was outside one day when she saw this black and white Ford car driving aimlessly around in her cow pasture. Now there's nothing strange about a car in the pasture, but in this case there was no gate to give access to the field. It seems Aunt Aggie missed the stop sign from Zion Road to Hufsmith and they flew through the ditch and tore down part of the fence, landing unhurt, but stunned in Mr. and Mrs. Foleys cow pasture. These two women were well in their late sixties, early seventies at this point of life and a traumatic jolt of jumping a ditch left them dazed and disoriented.
As Mrs. Foley went into the field to flag this strange car down, she realized these two ladies were somewhat out of sorts. Mrs. Foley asked them if they were ok and they seemed undaunted in their task at hand which was to get to Willing Workers at Church, "could you please show us the exit gate"?
Mrs. Foley tried to help them, but they insisted they were running late and simply needed to get out of this pasture so they could get about their church work, not realizing the car could be damaged or they could be hurt and not even realize it.
Off into the sunset drove Aunt Aggie with Grandma Osgood in the passenger seat, never to look back again. Two friends in life who shared many memories and many laughs, probably barely realizing the potential seriousness of their accident. More worried about their church work than themselves.
Many years ago these two friends passed away. Aunt Aggie first, then grandma had a stroke less than three weeks later.


- Clifford

Dear Friend That Will Remain Unnamed,

I just need to let you know that you are now part of one of my special clubs that I have created. It is called the "useless club". It can also be called the "useless man's club".
Last night there was a conversation between two ladies that we both know. During the conversation there was a discussion about your wife.
I know she has not been feeling well and unfortunately she has had to make a temporary stay in the hospital. There were questions exchanged between these two ladies about her condition. They were concerned about her as they both care for her in a great way and they were really, really wondering how she was doing.
The problem, however, is that the one lady was depending on updates about your wife from yourself. Apparently your updates were not detailed enough. Even though you have given general information it did not contain the necessary details that most women require. The information you have given was openly called "useless". I can share this with you because as with most things, women sometimes think we guys are just "useless".  I know that you are older than I am and I know that you have a lot more wisdom than I do, but you really need to learn how women want detail. I think I have been married a few more years than you have and I need to share some things with you.
It's not enough to simply tell a woman that your wife is doing "fine". Even though the reasonable and logical answer is a one word answer, you must provide detail to a woman – important details too.
It is fully understandable that over detailing any situation simply adds to your already burdened life, because one detail always leads to another question and sometimes men are simply being tested to see if we are telling the truth. It is a trap. It is the female way to find out if we are really as smart as we know we are or could it be that we are simply giving them details to pacify them.
You and I both know that more talking creates less oxygen on the planet and we men need a lot of oxygen when hunting and gathering to feed our families, but the female intake of oxygen is an ongoing everyday massive undertaking. On the other hand however we do need to provide detail mixed with most of the truth. Let me explain.
If a person asks you how your wife is doing, here would be a sampling of an appropriate answer.
"My wife is doing very well thank you. When we arrived at the hospital to check her in she was wearing a blue outfit with beige shoes and her hair was made up in the normal fashion. It was pulled back slightly to the left and it was tied back with a nice hair ribbon. She walked steadily into the room by herself before being admitted. She held her pen in her right hand while signing the paperwork and she was smiling with a slightly tilted head while signing the papers.
As she finished her paperwork we made our way down to her room. It was painted white with a brown wood framed door and the floor was white vinyl. The bed is on the right hand side of the room and it had beautifully placed hospital sheets pulled taut across the bed.
She slipped into her pink gown with white lace on the bottom hem and she wore white cotton slippers. As I helped her into the bed she was greeted by a nurse named Jackie who was very polite and helpful. She was asked to plan her meals for the day and I assisted her with the chicken soup for lunch and ground beef gravy steak for her supper with peas, carrots and a roll. She had tea to drink.
As I exited the room we held each other tightly. Her room number is 2003 and her doctor will be visiting at 4 p.m. this afternoon with updates. I will return to the hospital to see her at that time and I will be glad to provide further updates then."
Do you get the picture David? Do you see that extreme detail is needed when explaining things to a woman? 
Now. There is a way out of this however. The way to make a woman feel you are needed once again is the next time you are asked to repair something around the house, even though you may not really know how to make the repair properly, at least attempt to act like you do. Fake it! Grab whatever it is that needs repairs and jiggle it, hit on it, move it around and maybe it will fix itself. Then once it is working again she will find you very, very useful. She will call her friends and heap praise upon you for making the repair and she will think you are the smartest guy in the world. Just hope and pray she never asks you for details on how the repairs were made. That's when the big trouble begins.
Your Friend and Advisor,

- Clifford
President and CEO of the Useless Man's Club.

Editor's Note: This is a reprint of a column published last year. It is being republished by special request.
 
If you sit back and consider your life, are there just a few small things that jump out at you? Have you ever had a split second recollection of a small memory as a child that may literally last just a few seconds in your mind, but it becomes a memory that will forever remain embedded in the corner of your brain? This happens to me occasionally. I can be talking to someone about something or somebody when all of a sudden a small scene plays out in my mind recalling quick short events that bring back good and bad memories. Think about it. I have a hunch everyone has those moments.
I have memories of short events. I can remember the time I cut the muscle in my big toe, while playing in Spring Creek with the Mueller boys during one of our camping trips. It happened in the creek behind what is now Burroughs Park. All I can recall is cutting the underside of my toe, looking at it and seeing some bad stuff but I simply took a dirty sock, wrapped it around the toe and went about my camping trip. It was only years and years later that I realized I had actually cut the muscle under my toe and now I cannot curl my big toe. It remains straight and unable to flex. It is about a five second memory. I remember nothing else about the camping trip – not sure how many of the Mueller boys were there and I'm not sure how long I remained in camp that day after it happened. (In case you didn't know there were seven boys in the Mueller Family, so we did not all go to the same place at the same time and please ladies, now that my mom is gone please don't call me  and fuss at me for wrapping my cut toe in a dirty sock. I now know better.)
Another short event is when my sister Gallbladder hit me in the head with a roasting pan. (I'm sorry, misprint – her real name is Gail) I have no idea why she hit me, but all I recall is this big bong sound coming from my ears as this big, black, speckled roasting pan landed squarely on top of my head. She hit me with the center of the bottom of the pan, so it did not hurt, but in less than one or two seconds I can recall the sound and eventual laughter that arose from the family after she hit me. She says now that I was probably picking on her which I have been occasionally known to do.
I was having a conversation with my neighbor and distant cousin Ruby Vogt a couple of day's ago. I told her that I have a short memory about her mom, Ms Edna Mae.
When I was a young man running the dirt roads of Hufsmith on my bicycle, different people would occasionally ask me to help them with different small chores around the place. I have no idea why or how come I was down at the Vogt home, but all I can recall is that Ms. Edna Mae and I were standing in the yard talking, when suddenly a pole cat (skunk) was running across the pasture.
Seeing this chicken killin', thievin', stinkin' critter she went into a minor semi panic mode. She quickly let out a small sound of shock to see this critter in mid day and she turned and ran up her steps into her house and quickly exited with shotgun in hand. She thrust the shotgun into my hand and hollered "shoot em', go shoot em'" I know I must have already been ten or twelve years old and I had been around guns all my life, but any hunting I did was always with my dad. Here I was, away from the confines of our own property and visiting a neighbor, when she hands me this gun, sight unseen and instructs me to go shoot this varmint. She had it loaded and ready to fire and I took aim.
At this point my memory stops. It's gone! I have no recollection of my shot, no recollection of the end results and nothing else about the whole event, but maybe fifteen seconds of life, as this grown adult woman of whom I admire and love handed me this gun. It was as if I had suddenly achieved the manly, masculine qualities required to protect and serve. Never mind all I was doing was protecting a pen full of chickens. Never mind that I had never used another gun other than my dad's. Never mind that I had never shot a skunk before. All I remember is that moment of life that this lady respected me as old enough to handle the task at hand.
This should teach all of us a small lesson. We humans remember little things. Little spots of life, whether good or bad, are forever etched in our minds, never to be erased. Always strive to leave good memories in peoples lives. Hold back the one bad word or bad comment. Keep that outburst of anger in check. Bite your tongue because somewhere, someplace, somebody is always watching and the memory banks of the brain may never forget.


- Clifford

My daughter recently showed me a picture of Superman. He was in a football uniform except this time he was in a real game. He wasn't dressed up for Halloween as he was the last time I saw him. That was over thirteen years ago and Superman had grown up. Here was a story I remembered from many, many years ago.
Halloween had come and gone and I got into trouble again. It seems that every year that goes by I get in trouble for one reason or another.
Some years I get into trouble for being over zealous in my Halloween activities and then some years I get fussed at for not caring.
If I am in one of my, I don't care years, my wife gets on to me because I don't come to the door every time it rings and ogle and ah at each little candy snatcher that makes their way to our door. If I'm in one of my very active modes she has to get on to me because I tend to go overboard. I can still remember one year at a former church I attended I kinda got into trouble for being too creative.
The Hall family used to live in a location that was way out in the boonies or at least so it seemed.  Tall trees and a lot of underbrush surrounded them and their property had a gully that ran across one area of the land. We decided to have a spook trail and we did all kind of fun scary things. We cleared paths in the woods and I laid some lumber across this little gully that had about two inches of water in it. Once it got dark all of the actors took their various places around the trail and I tended the water crossing.
As the group touring our trail got positioned onto the crossing, I would pour a cup of gasoline on the water as it ran toward the board. I could see the oily skin on the water reflecting in the moonlight and as soon as it got near the bridge I would light the gasoline. The trail of fire trickling toward the board crossing naturally made people scatter. It was fun until the women started getting mad because I was making them get their feet wet while escaping the wall of fire. People got tired of trampling on each other too! Creative panic and controlled chaos is what I called it.
I really felt bad about what happened this one particular year! I always thought Halloween was a time to be so scared it made you wet your pants but apparently that idea went out with bell-bottom pants.
One little trick or treater named Tyler Ligon visited our house along with his mom. I happened to be outside when they drove up and once they made their way inside I hid between some bushes in front of our house hoping to scare everybody that walked out the door. For whatever reason my wife allowed them to exit the side door to our home and little Tyler made his way past my lair as I jumped out and growled real loud. The little fellow was dressed as Superman and as much as he tried not to, he burst into tears, deflating any laughter this old man had. I apologized and my wife got after me with a piece of weed eater string. I guess it just goes to show you that big guys never grow up and all guys, big or little, still need the comfort from the women in their lives.
It was good to see your picture Tyler. I'm the old man that scared Superman.



- Clifford