Sweeps, The Runs, and Clutch Performances

Friday morning I went down to Cedar City to Pick up my pick-up. I am so grateful for the quick trip to see my nephew Abner who is quite possibly the cutest of little baby boy around. I was there a month ago and he couldn't crawl and now he does. I suppose next time I see him he will be walking Or writing a best-selling novel or reorganizing our government system to protect our liberties.

The reason I bring this up is because his great parents are moving in two weeks to work and help hurricane victims in South Texas. Marie and Joel are amazing people and live their lives first to serve God, and then to each other, and to help the world and their community. They are a great example to me and those around them. And they will have success in this endeavor and will learn more than they could imagine.

While I was in Cedar I saw many of my friends and loved ones. And when I saw my friend Whitney(who was my first new friend when I started at GWC last year) she said that we should run a 5k on Saturday. And so we did! Whitney did so good she dropped her personal record by 2 minutes and I did pretty good too. I came in 10th out of over 100 people and felt really good since the marathon last month. But it was a good run.


Finally when I drove away in my pick-up Saturday morning I never would have imagined I would be stranded for three hours between Beaver and Filmore(basically middle earth, Utah!) with a flat tire but I was. My brother-in-law Jared and my sister Ellen Came and rescued me We got a new tire and I got back on the road. They are a huge blessing in my life and I love them so much.

And today Rachel gets back from a 50/50 Volleyball weekend in Colorado and Wyoming and we are going to give my little blue Pick-up a name and I am going to teach her how to drive it. She's never driven a stick shift but today she will learn and if my grandma were here she would probably teach us all how to "double clutch", but that's another story!

Ike Hit My Hometown

I grew up in a little town in Southeast Texas called Bridge City. This town can best be described in a few word; football, refineries, "th Bayou" (Pronounced buy-O) and good ole boys.
I move to BC, as it is frequently called, just before my thirteenth birthday and just in time to start playing football. Our family was moving from an overpopulated suburb of Houston to this small town of less than 10,000 people and my older sisters were not happy. They were not happy because they were in high school and by no means were they "country." But neither was I then I guess.
After the first day of school our whole family brought back different levels of amazement to the wonder we already were in town. Everyone knew we had moved in and they even knew the genealogy of the 55 year old house we had bought. So as we got acquainted we found that the social dynamic was much different than we had experienced in our previous habitat. The blood in the south runs deep especially in Bridge City, people had lived there for 3 even 4 generations. They knew the history of everything in the area and we found out that most were cousins by a couple generations. Hence the people of BC are very loyal to their families, neighbors, and friends. Each of my 6 siblings that lived there found friends quickly and that each still hold dearly even now that we have been away for some time.
The fathers and some mothers in BC worked at the nearby refineries; Chevron and Du Pont, are the biggest in the area. At frist the stench was unbearable, you just wanted to get away from it. But there was no escape. And that smell is the smell of Southeast Texas economy and those who are employed there are grateful to have the work with or with out the stench.
We learned how life was living on the Bayou, as the leaves began to change and the cool humid air came in, so did an alligator 7 feet long and very confused it sat lying in the grass of our front yard. My sister Ellen, who was 8 at this time and just the right size to be a hearty meal for a reptile of this size walked within feet of it and upon noticing ran into the house to let us know. A real southern man happened by shortly and roped the gator and the fish and game department took it for relocating. In the following summers I explored the woods with my friends and brothers, jumped off the Cow Bayou Bridge 12 feet into the warm water that felt cool in the Texas summer heat, played basketball on the dirt court beside our house, baseball in the tall grass field around the corner, and enjoyed long days at the baseball fields eating crawfish 5 pounds at a time and watching my fair skin get torched in the summer sun. I could write a book on each day of my amazing childhood and the people who made it great.
Shortly after moving to BC I began to realize that there was something about the men there(coaches, friends father's, men at the store, neighbors) and I couldn't quite put my finger what was so different. They were gruff, like my grandfather, they really cared about me, and it was as if each lived by some creed that drove them to naturally carry values that I wanted in my life, they had character. They were, simply put, my definition of real men, "Good Ole Boys."
On Saturday I found out that the town; where I began to learn how to be a man, where I played through my summers with friends and brothers, has been destroyed by hurricane Ike. It currently sits mostly under water, 10,000 people homeless, and that's just one town. The area is devastated from what the news is reporting. My dad made it out but will lose his home more than likely. It is so sad, but I know that things will work out in the end.
http://www.ireport.com/docs/DOC-85790 link to pics now