Let it rain. Let it rain. Let it rain.
We needed it, and it finally came on Tuesday. I kept hearing reports on television that we were going to get inundated over the weekend and through mid-week. Everyone was excited about the moisture because it had been so long since it last rained.
Then Saturday and nothing. Then came Sunday and there was a trickle. Then on Monday there was only a squirt here and there. I was starting to get real irritated with the weather people and wondered if anyone in that business actually knew what the heck they were talking about. I can understand not being able to accurately predict a full week out, but come on man, we weren’t even getting it right 12 hours out.
Alas, the skies opened and everything is right with the world. Well, maybe not everything. On Tuesday, as Jose Torres and I drove back through the rain from San Antonio to Gonzales, I mentioned to Jose that I wondered how our leaky roof at the Inquirer was holding out. When we got back to the office, Shelly and Sanya were moving buckets around to catch the water. As Shelly said: “Heck, with the buckets deployed we won’t drown now.”
Last Friday night while enjoying the music of LC Rocks at the Main Street Summer Concert Series, I ran into my friend and co-conspirator O.S. Grant. O.S. was walking very gingerly, and I noticed he appeared to be in a lot of pain.
“How y’all doing Mr. Grant?” I asked with a big smile.
“Terry, not too well,” he gasped, and I knew instantly something was very wrong.
I immediately inquired as to what was causing him so much pain and he related that he had been broadsided in a car accident. In the accident he had a few ribs broken. He could hardly move.
O.S. Grant is one of Gonzales’ hidden treasurers, as the legendary sax man has wowed audiences for over 60 years. So if you see him hobbling around town, give him a ride or send a cheery word his way. I’m sure he would appreciate it.
Now that my grandchildren are getting to the age where they just love to yap about anything, I have discovered the joy of the telephone again. Talking to an excited four-year old over the phone about going potty into the toilet is one of the funniest things I’ve done recently. I am proud of them all, and they are very proud of the fact that they now know how to use the potty. I get to see all five of them in two weeks, and this is one excited papa.
I wonder what they would think if I told them how excited I am to still be alive to use the potty.