My Wallet is Empty

Recently Ol' Dutch had the opportunity to buy a ranch in Texas. You might ask why anyone in their right mind would buy one there and Trixie may agree with you that I am not in my right mind, too.

But it’s near the grand-daughters and Bubs, my son, so there is some advantage to being close at least part of the year. Now before you get to thinking that Ol' Dutch had amassed some kind of near fortune to buy such a place that is not the case at all. I am tempted to call it Oleo Ranch as it’s just a “little spread.”

But the one thing I have noticed is that just buying the land is only the tip of the iceberg as now there are things I need to buy just to keep the place running and Ol' Dutch is feeling kinda poor after the initial purchase fun has worn off.

I was talking to Trixie about this situation and told her that it reminded me of a story to which she rolled her eyes and sighed heavily which usually means she is anxious for my impartation of wisdom to her young ears.

This story had to do with my brother-in-law who at 6 years old had gotten a dollar for his birthday. A dollar was real money back in those days.

He was anxious to spend it so his mother took him to the Woolworth store in the local town. Once there he perused the aisles and finally found the perfect item: a wallet that was priced for $1.He proudly bought it and carried it home.

Once there he suddenly realized that now that he had the wallet he had no money to put in it and cried himself to sleep.

Such is life so it seems. We often have the money to buy something then find out there are hidden costs or that we find ourselves without enough money to enjoy what we just bought.

The ranch is just such a place for me now as I need a bush hog mower, box blade, my tractor overhauled, cattle wormed, hay baled, fence built, barn cleaned, mobile home demolished, trash picked up, metal hauled off and a hundred other things. So, do you see the problem?

Even though I was able to get the land, now I am a tad short on capital to really do it right.

My sister and all her kids came out to vacation last week and I was reminded of just how far we have come in our desire to have things. They each showed up with these new Yeti ice chests which are made of solid gold or something like that.

Now I don't know about you but in my truck is a old beat-up red Coleman ice chest that has had worms, fish, deer, antelope, sandwiches and cookies in it and only cost around $25.

But here they all were with these newfangled $300 coolers in each of their cars, $30 mugs to match for each adult (and some kids), shirts, hats and all sorts of other paraphernalia of the same brand adorning their earthly bodies. .

When I was growing up, my dad always had the cheap Styrofoam coolers and I never remember any food going bad or lack thereof when we needed it. Those coolers were designed to keep food cold for a set time until you could have a picnic and get back home even in a day or two.

My sister and her family, though, were quick to point out that these new plastic boxes would keep food cold for 10 days straight if you did not open it which totally defeats the purpose of a cooler in Ol' Dutch's mind. The measure of a “good ice chest” is how empty it is at day’s end and the success of the day can be measured from that alone.

Trixie and I had a conversation about getting a Yeti to be part of the “in” crowd but Ol' Dutch is afraid to buy one and then look in there and find there is no food, because I would have spent all of my money on the ice chest. But, I’m sure having a Yeti would make me cool and that’s worth a lot of money right there. 

Go Big

Getting to roam the earth like I do, I am often drawn to the most odd-named spots on this planet.   It makes sense that a lot of towns were named after meaningful people or places like New Amesterdam or Georgetown. And, some places are named after a unique geological feature common to the area like South Fork, Colorado named for the adjacent river that runs through it. 

In the San Luis Valley we see the early influence of the Spanish and later Latino peoples in the names of the cities and places like the Sangre De Christo Mountains which translated means, The Blood of Christ.

But Ol' Dutch has always been amazed at some of the names he visits and reads about and I have to wonder where these could have possibly originated?  You don't have to look far to find a Bugtussle, Texas or a Boring, Oregon. There is a Why, Arizona and there is Whynot, Mississippi. Another interesting place is Loafers Glory, North Carolina which I take to be a good place to re-shoe oneself but Trixie says that maybe is where Ol' Dutch can ply his trade of "loafing."

The town of Sweet Lips, Tennessee gives me great memories of a gal I knew from the South and Lick Skillet, Tennessee kind of leaves a slick feeling on my tongue.  I know nothing about Hell, Michigan but it would give most preachers fits as they try and convince their congregations that they need to be "saved from Hell." Personally, though, I have been in a few towns I wish someone had saved me from too so Ol' Dutch thinks this might just be one of them.

Now Ol' Dutch has never been one to be too prudish but how people came up with Intercourse, Pennsylvania for a town name is a tad suspect. As for other less than dainty sounding names there is Dildo, Canada to which Ol' Dutch won't touch with a 10 foot pole. And Middlefart, Denmark brings up thoughts of odoriferous airs about town. 

We cannot fail to mention Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch, Wales which has fewer residents than the letters in its name.  More local place names include Center which lies in the center of the Valley and Creede, named for Nicholas Creede who first found silver deposits there. 

I guess my favorite of all times however would have to be Timbuktu which is located far away on the edge of the Great Sahara Desert. This name invokes something far, far away and is also just fun to say like Waxahachie, Texas. 

Maybe this year you will find yourself in Hygiene or Spook City, Colorado. Or possibly you could find your way to Wideawake or maybe pick up a few new house guests in Old Roach, Colorado? There is one thing I do know after all these years and that is "wherever you find yourself, there you are" and the journey is half the fun of any adventure. 

So should this year find Ol' Dutch and Trixie in Truth or Consequences, New Mexico or  Pee Pee Ohio or some other town with an interesting name, we will try and always remember the old saying, "you cannot judge a book by its cover.” Even if we end up in Anus, France Ol' Dutch will try not to have a crappy outlook on life. 

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. And his blog is www.troutrepublic.com.

Tee Shirts Feb 4

Trout Republic by Kevin Kirkpatrick

Did you know the first promotional T-shirt printed was for The Wizard of Oz movie way back in 1939? If you happen to have that shirt hiding out in the attic, you might think about packaging it up and sending it to Ol' Dutch since he was a long time Kansas resident and can use the millions that shirt would be worth.

Now, I do recall the tie-dyed shirt craze back in the 60s and 70s. Drawing No. 1 in the Vietnam War draft made me of age to witness the last of the Hippy Movement with its anti-war themes, political statements, happy faces and other even more outlandish themes, bad language and rebellious words.

Message shirts served as an external tattoo for people who wanted to make a statement and as such, could be worn then discarded as their mood changed. This unlike a real tattoo that linked you to some woman named “Darla” or “Jenny” that you met on a wild weekend at some distant port of call and splashed in bold colors across your arm or chest for all eternity to see.

Back then, expressive t-shirts were the garments of the youth. Adults knew that someday those kids would grow out of it and become normal men and women wearing button down collars, dockers and loafers.

Boy, that conventional wisdom was wrong. Those young people grew up but they didn’t change a whole lot. The messages of yesteryear on a 75 year old body are a little shocking to say the least. Trixie and I travel full time and being in the RV parks around the country we are surrounded by people who have long retired and living the “good life.”

The other night at Bingo there was a constant parade of otherwise church going Bible thumping Baptists passing by our table on the way in dressed in an array of t-shirts. There was everything from soup to nuts printed on their shirts with the usual “South Padre Island” messages that they got for $3.99 on sale which I totally understand. We are frugal if nothing else when traveling and a deal is a deal, right?

But some deals are best left undone when you start seeing 75 year old great-grandmothers with a shirt that says “These Are Real” plastered across her chest. I could tell she wasn't referencing her teeth even though they were row perfect and any more thought on the subject by Ol' Dutch was quickly filed in the pile of forgetfulness.

Ol' Dutch ain't no prude but just maybe these folks need to put a little thought into buying “I Skinny Dipped in Texas,” “I Lobster Then I Flounder,” “Good Girls Do Bad Things” and the inevitable and overuse of the “F” word.

Why these people have a need for expressing things that most of us would rather not know or see on our elders is beyond me. At the local movie theater later in the week, my eyes were drawn to a gorgeous older lady with impeccable hair and makeup, perfect teeth, rebuilt body, and a diamond ring on every finger. Ol' Dutch was totally mesmerized by her beauty and demeanor until she turned and smiled at me. There for all the world to see on her shirt was a huge logo with the words “Black Widow” printed in neon green.

We all know that spider eats her mate after successful copulation and I could now see where all of her trinkets, add-ons and plastic came from: past mates. Run Dutch, run.

Thankfully Trixie was there to keep me safe as age cannot compete with youth and Trixie knows she has me like a rat in a trap. Plus Ol' Dutch is not one to add another diamond to that spiders hand anytime soon. 

He may be turned by a beautiful look but Ol' Dutch is tight as bark on a tree to which Trixie just added, “Amen.”

Kevin Kirkpatrick and his Yorkie, Cooper, fish, hunt, ATV or hike daily. His email is Kevin@TroutRepublic.com. And his blog is www.troutrepublic.com.