Global Warming, an Update Global Warming, (An Update) Yes, I know we’ve almost worn out the phrase, and it’s fashionable to say climate change. But what in hell is climate change? What we have is a planet, which is actually warming. Now that is an absolute fact, and this year is on track to be the hottest year in recorded history. You would think, with the extreme climate changes, the predicted consequences, and our advanced technology, every country in the world would be gearing up to reverse the trend, and they are...except one…the USA. That’s right and the current powers that be, out of a 100+ countries on the planet, are the only one denying global warming. They’re calling it a hoax just like the Covid-19. Well, how is that working out? I’m writing this column because it is becoming obvious the predictions that extreme weather, which would result as the Earth’s temperature increase, is not only coming to pass, but it is accelerating. The extreme weather that was predicted to happen starting ten years from now is already pounding us. If you live in Lake Charles, Louisiana, and you look at the rubble from two hurricanes, you understand what the future of the entire Gulf Coast of the United States is going to look like in a decade or so. I don’t think I need to tell you that this year was a record hurricane season, and as the waters of the Gulf continue to heat, next year and the year after that will result in more and stronger hurricanes. How long will it be until a large percentage of the Gulf Coast becomes uninhabitable? Am I being an alarmist? Why don’t you ask the folks living in Lake Charles how many more hurricanes will it take before the town is abandoned? Of course, as the waters of the Gulf continue to heat, Category 4 and 5 storms will be the norm. El Dorado had two tropical storms this year. Guess what? We’re having weather very similar to a sub-tropical climate, and that’s not just tropical storms. Just look back at the summer weather we had this year. Those July and August rains, which moved north from the Gulf weren’t anything like our typical south Arkansas weather. Those were waves of heavily, moisture-laden sub-tropical clouds. Check out Houston if you want to get a real feel for the coming sub-tropics. One hundred year rainfalls are now becoming commonplace. If the Earth’s temperature continues to increase and the polar ice caps thaw, which is already happening at an astonishing rate, these massive hurricanes will be accompanied by a rise in sea level that will swamp the towns along the Gulf Coast until only the very largest cities, with the resources to construct massive coastal barriers will be able to survive. The inhabitants of the smaller towns will be forced to evacuate and the Gulf of Mexico will encroach 10 to 15 miles inland. How long have we got to stop this from happening? A few years back we were looking at 25 + years, but now? If the current increases in temperature continues and the storm intensity follows, we may see a new Gulf shoreline as much as five to ten miles inland within the next 15 years. That scenario will make the current pandemic look like a Sunday School Picnic. Some called the pandemic a hoax and 400,000 Americans will eventually die. How many worldwide lives will be lost as severe weather and drought sweeps across the continents? But don’t think just the Gulf Coast is going to get hammered. During the past year extreme weather has produced tornadoes in sections of the country where they were unheard of. Of course, the West Coast wildfires, which were caused by extreme drought conditions, burned a record amount of land, and as those weather conditions continue, the threat of wildfires will increase. Yes, the West Coast droughts and accompanying wildfires are a result of global warming. But as severe as the hurricanes, droughts, and wildfires are, they pale with the consequences of a 4 to 6 foot rise in sea level. The number of worldwide towns and cities that are at or actually below sea level is staggering. It will be impossible to even consider protecting all of the inhabited coastal land around the world, which will be threatened by a rise in sea level. A few major cities will have the resources to keep from being swamped by rising sea level, but a large majority of inhabited coastline towns will simply be allowed to submerge below the rising waters. Yes, the consequences of inaction on global warming are horrific. However, it has become a so called mantra of some politicians to deny that global warming is occurring. It seems as if we are having to start the learning curve all over again as we have with the pandemic. But what is different, is that the pandemic will run its course, and in a year or so we will have a vaccine or herd immunity, and we will be through with it. But that is not the way global warming works. If we allow the continuing heating of our planet’s atmosphere, it will reach a point where the quality of life on our planet will be tenuous for several billion inhabitants of Earth. Unless our country not only joins the rest of the world to try and reverse global warming, but actively takes a leading role, the prospects for a severe reduction in the quality of life for billions of our planet’s future population is grim. We must attack global warming with the same intensity as we would a major threat such as a World War. So why are we dragging our feet? Actually, it’s not just foot dragging but, we are actively opposing the curtailment of activities, which would slow or stop global warming. I know, with the current avalanche of facts about hurricanes, droughts, and rising sea level, that’s hard to believe. But it is happening. Of course there is a reason, and in our capitalistic society, sometimes the desire to make money without considering the consequences, dominates everything, and the desire to just make money now and forget about future generations dominates the goal to stop global warming. Yes, it is all about the greed to make money now and to hell with the future. It’s the same concept as the slash and burn of the vast, east Arkansas old growth forests that took place late 1800s. The United States, who led the world to stamp out fascism, must take the lead again. Unless our country assumes the mantle of leadership and leads the way to reverse global warming, we will be dooming our great grandchildren to live in a vastly inferior world. Surely, we can put aside petty, political rhetoric, and once again lead a worldwide coalition to combat the greatest threat to mankind in recorded history. If we care about future generations every person should become actively involved. Only then can we reverse what seem to be an inevitable severe reduction in the quality of life for Earth’s future inhabitants.

Tread Softly on the Blue Planet-------Tread Softly on the Blue Planet Have you ever sat down in a symphony hall and when the orchestra rose to full volume on an especially moving piece, marveled at the blend of instruments that could produce such an overwhelming sound? I guess you could say the same thing about the rock group The Grateful Dead. Now, consider removing the violins from the symphony, or the bass guitar from The Grateful Dead. The sound is not the same is it? When an integral part of any band or symphony is missing, the music suffers. I believe life on the blue planet, we call Earth, mirrors a symphony orchestra. John Muir wrote that "When we try to pick out anything by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the Universe." John Muir's perception certainly makes a person consider the consequences when we intervene in nature to remove a species, or when we alter our environment to the point where whole ecosystems perish. Now, I know this seems to be an abstract something, which you might nod your head in agreement. But let's get right down to our backyards. Does this concept alter our daily life or activities? For a moment, think about your reactions to nature. Here is a fairly extreme example of what I mean. A few months back, I walked out on my backyard deck. It was one of those first really warm summer days. Birds were everywhere, squirrels in the trees, and then I saw it. Out from under our large backyard deck came a big copperhead snake, almost two feet long. Now what would be your reaction? Get the hoe? Get the gun? Kill that snake? When I grew up on a small South Arkansas farm that would have been the automatic reaction. In fact, anything that could be a threat to anybody was automatically killed. And on top of that, anything that posed even a remote threat to our crops, livestock or property was killed. That thought process in the past gave us an open season on everything from snakes to chicken hawks to beaver to sparrows, and of course in previous years the State Game and Fish Commission had put bounties on wolves, cougars, and bobcats. I’m sorry to say that mentality, which prevails even to this day, has resulted in a wholesale destruction of hundreds of species simply because we view them as a perceived threat to us. They are considered undesirable wildlife. Well, are we actually threatened by wildlife? When was the last time you heard of anybody being killed by snakebite, or how many chickens have you ever seen snared by a "chicken" hawk? I lived on a farm covered up with chickens for years, and I never saw a hawk take even one chicken. But what are your odds of being killed by snakebite, cougars, bears, or any other creature? I dare say, the odds are better of you being struck by lightning, dying from an ingrown toenail, or being killed by a cow. So, what should be our reaction to the parts of nature we consider as undesirable? Of course that requires us to classify every part of nature as either desirable or undesirable. Where do you start and where do you stop. How about the snakes, coyotes, sparrows, hawks, wolves, beaver, armadillos, and you could go on and on. But while we are classifying shouldn’t we consider how removing them degrades the blue planet? Well, let’s go back to my backyard deck again. I watched the copperhead snake slowly moved through the azaleas, and as I watched it for another five minutes, it slowly worked its way around the deck, and then disappeared into some leaves. I would imagine I'll see not only this one, but several small copperheads around the deck this fall, and from the looks of it, I probably have an active copperhead den right in my backyard. I may get bitten, but I doubt it. I don't know exactly what part copperheads play in the harmony of nature, maybe they hold down the toad frog population. I don't know, but I have become convinced they deserve to live just as much as those beautiful bluebirds who nest in my bluebird box. But copperhead snakes are just a part of what you might call my snaky backyard. A big brown water snake has a den beside our patio, just adjacent to my backyard pond, and this spring it birthed several little ones. In our front yard I frequently see garter snakes and green snakes, and in the pond right off our deck, I would venture a guess that I have a water moccasin or two. I’m faced with the choice, how can I arbitrarily try to promote the well-being of one part of our environment, while I destroy another part? But should I have killed the copperhead? I’m sure a goodly number of my readers will say “Hell, yes!” Of course a copperhead is a threat, but should we kill all the pit bulldogs? More people are killed by pit-bulls than by copperheads. Tough questions. Now back to the farm for a moment. When I was eight years old, my Dad placed a bolt action 20 gauge shotgun in my hands. His words of advice still ring clear. "Don't shoot anything you're not going to eat." Back then we supplemented many of our meals with game I killed and fish I caught. We even ate possum, coon, and armadillo. I guess this concept still drives my hunting and fishing. I can't imagine shooting a duck and not retrieving it, or catching a stringer full of fish and not dressing them. And today, I can't imagine shooting a hawk or killing a snake or killing anything I'm not going to eat. This concept makes me oppose trapping beaver. Not because trapping is wrong, but because the beaver are being killed and just thrown away because the dams they build may kill a few acres of scraggly timber. On top of that, about 1/3 of the catch in beaver traps are otter. Again, just killed and thrown away. And the much maligned coyotes? Well, send a few more my way, the coons, possum and armadillo are overrunning my place. I'm in the city limits, so if nature doesn't control itself, we are going to be knee deep in whatever can adapt to the scraps of habitat we have left them. So the next time you set up a bug zapper, which by the way doesn't attract the mosquitos that bite you, think about the harmony of nature. Wouldn't the addition of a birdhouse for fifty purple martins to eat those mosquitoes make for more harmony than the sizzle of a bug zapper? Yes, I want the woods to be diverse, and if that means adding a little discomfort and danger, so be it. In life, I have always found that the more varied and diverse life becomes, the more meaningful it is. Our blue planet is rich and wonderfully crafted, and if we want the best life possible we should tread softly on its surface, and put away forever the slash, burn, and kill mentality of another generation.

KICKING THE PANDEMIC’S ASS Since the Pandemic is hogging the news lately, I thought I might as well give you my 2 cents worth. Just to start things off, let me just say this, “I hate wearing a bloody mask!” (If you’re British, you get my point.) But I’m wearing one, because I’m more afraid of ventilators than being a little uncomfortable. Actually, I know, I’m deathly allergic to ventilators. But stupid masks are just the tip of why I hate about the pandemic; I’m bored! I want to eat at Galitories in New Orleans so badly I can taste it, but since Louisiana is Coronavirus Central, and the good old USA is leading the world in Coronavirus deaths, I think heading to New Orleans would be like a death wish. Yes, we’re trapped like rats in a house full of cats, and we’re trying to dodge the ones we call Covid-19, but we’re doing a terrible job of dodging them, and when we get a runny nose, we panic, take our temperature, and wonder if that tiny, sore throat is drainage, or horrors—the Coronavirus! But I’m just getting started; and if you have a few more minutes hear me out. If I had to rank things the virus has stopped me from doing; going to Church, teaching Sunday School, and singing in the Choir would top the list. I know I could show up masked, sit on an empty row, and try to sing through a stupid mask, but my attitude would be so bad, I think Jesus would give the virus. So I’m not going to church until two weeks after I get the vaccine shot. Oh, would I take the virus vaccine shot? Hell, yes! I would take the Russian one or the Chinese nose spray, or the one they gave the six monkeys, in a New York minute. But do we actually have a problem? Or is the Coronavirus just a hoax? And are the only ones who die are the very elderly with serious preexisting illnesses? Yes, we sure do have a damn problem. It’s not a hoax, and the +200,000 dead Americans weren’t all old timers! But this problem is not just an American one. It is a worldwide one. We know it started in China, spread to Europe and Asia, and then to the USA. We had more time to prepare than any other part of the world. How was our preparation? We started out by saying it was just another flu and then a hoax. And the result? So far the United States leads the world in cases and deaths. As the virus swept through Europe and headed our way, we knew it wouldn’t hop over the USA...and it didn’t. We are the most technologically advanced nation on Earth, and yet we are doing the worst job on Earth. That is just a fact measured by any criterion you want to use. We have a fraction of the number of people than the countries of China and India, but we have more cases and deaths. The job we are doing on a daily basis is beyond horrible. The governor of Florida has just announced the state is opening up. With virus cases in Florida still soaring that is unbelievable! Is the Governor trying to reduce the population? But it’s not just in Florida. We have churches telling their members masks are optional, and national political rallies, which thousands attend most without masks and no social distancing. We are saying in effect that another 200,000 deaths are okay. Before the virus is under control, just by the horrible job we are doing right now, another 200,000 Americans will possibly die. Do we give a damn that by the time we get a vaccine 400,000 Americans will have died? I guess we don’t, not by the way we’re responding. Now, let’s step on some toes, and to start with, if you aren’t wearing a stupid mask in public you are beyond dumb, especially if you are going to any large gathering. Of course, you can tell me it’s your constitutional right not to wear a mask, and you can go anywhere you want, and if it’s to a big motorcycle rally with 400,000 attendees, where it would be statistically impossible for some of the group not to have the virus, that’s your right! And if you go and catch the virus, come home, and visit your mother in a nursing home and give it to her, and she infects 50 residents of the nursing home and a dozen die. You’re saying, “Yes, as an American, I’m within my rights, and I don’t care how many people die.” Or as another bad example; the President just announced his pick for the Supreme Court to a large crowd of almost all unmasked folks sitting shoulder to shoulder. No wonder we’re leading the world in covid-19 deaths! Well, I don’t think going on and on about not being able to do things such as going on a vacation, taking in a movie, or just having a Welcome to Fall party for 25 of my friends accomplishes anything, because we’re all in the same boat, and I hope you are paddling the boat and not expecting others to get you across the pandemic. Yes, there are a lot of y’all who aren’t paddling, and I guess the teens and twenties folks, who think they are bulletproof, are the biggest problems. But it’s just not the younger folks who are causing the virus to spread like a California wildfire. Not on your life. But why are we doing such a terrible job? Don’t we know how to control the spread of the virus? Sure we do. There are numerous countries that have suppressed the virus, and have limited the number of deaths. All we had to do was follow their lead. Our European allies are aghast at the horrible job we’re doing. If we want to control the virus, we should follow the excellent job New Zealand is doing, or any of the European countries. (1) Nationwide mandatory masks when in public. (2) Prohibit the gathering of more than 25 individual and observe social distancing. (3) Enforcement of these rules with heavy mandatory fines. (4) Close the bars and casinos until the virus is completely under control. (5) Do massive testing, quarantines, and sanitizing. It all boils down to whether you give a damn. That’s as blunt as I can make it, and if you’re in public with no mask, you might as well write on your forehead, “I don’t give a damn if you die!” Now let’s give some grades, so here goes: as a National grade I would give our Country something below an F. On a State level, we’re at least, up to a D. However, the worst grades go to the ministers who say masks and social distancing are optional. These ministers know better. How can a Christian not wear a mask? If you are a Christian and don’t wear a mask you break Jesus’s “love your neighbor as yourself” command. Yes, for you non-masked individuals that’s a bitter pill to swallow.

*The End of Oil in Near *That is the exact title of the feature article in the latest Sierra Club magazine. Well, since I’m an oilman and a Sierra Club member, I couldn’t wait to read how the oil industry, which I have worked in for nearly 50 years, was going to go kaput. I won’t go into details of how the writer of the article came up with that eye-grabbing title, but let me just say this. The article is long, sleep inducing.....and just plain wrong. The writer is wrong for several reasons, and the first and foremost is the energy replacement for oil is just not here yet. Even the most optimistic scenarios for the use of the alternative energy still has oil and natural gas as the primary worldwide energy source for the next 30 years. The “End of Oil is not Near!” But while we’re on the subject, let’s view the outlook for the oil and gas industry, the price of oil, and what will you pay for gasoline three years from now? The writer of the article correctly points out that the world’s oil and gas industry is going through tough times, and let me add to that. Oil industry analysts are predicting 150 additional oil and gas companies will go bankrupt within the next 12 months. Of course, that sure sounds as if it’s curtains for the industry. But it’s not, and this is why. The pandemic has reduced the overall demand for oil by between 17% and 20%. That simply means instead of 90 million barrels of oil a day the world only needs a little over 70 million barrels a day. A few months back when the worldwide oil consumption was 90 million barrels a day, and the pandemic hit, the demand for oil dropped like a rock, and there was immediately a huge surplus of oil on the market. That actually drove the price of oil down to below $0, and that whopping drop in the price of oil immediately caused the layoff of over 100,000 oil related workers and the scaling back of countless billions of new oil and gas drilling |investments. The oil boom of the American shale oil horizontal wells was over for the time being, and as rigs were stacked and drilling was reduced, worldwide oil production began to drop. It continues to drop. OPEC, by reducing production, has brought the price of oil back up to above $35/bbl, but most shale oil production needs for oil to sell for at least $50 per barrel, or they will lose money. That’s why the job losses and production decline will continue, and a company, which depends on cash flow from new shale oil wells that aren’t going to be drilled, won’t be able to pay their bank notes, and they will declare bankruptcy. Many of the shale oil wells have a first year decline of over 40%, so in order for a company to keep their production levels up, and pay their bankers, they must drill. So while the price of oil is well below breakeven, they are not going to drill, and the wells they have are going to steadily decline. The pandemic, by reducing the demand for oil, has already removed millions of barrels of oil from the market, and because thousands of these shale oil wells are approaching being uneconomical, they will be shut in and never produce again, and millions of barrels more will leave the market. With the current near-term outlook and price of oil, small companies that were active shale oil drillers, won’t be back to drill and the banks who financed them won’t return for another round. The shale plays will return some day, but not until another boom roars through the oil patch. Another boom? Yes, and that’s not my wild dream. It is from Christyan Malek, of JPMorgan Chase who is head of Europe, Middle East and African Oil and Gas research. He said the oil market could be on the cusp of a “supercycle” that sends Brent crude skyrocketing to as high as $190 a barrel in 2025. The rational for higher oil prices says, as a virus vaccine stops the pandemic, the world will quickly ramp up travel etc, and the demand for oil will return to pre-pandemic levels. No one knows how quickly, but it will probably will take most of 2021 to return to pre-pandemic levels. However, the pent up demand to travel for business or pleasure may swell the world market need for oil back up to even higher that 90 million barrels of oil a day by the end of 2022, and that will cause a rush to add oil production to the current 70 million bbls that will be on the market. However, all of that extra 15 to 20 million barrels of oil won’t be readily available, and when demand outstrips supply, the price of oil will rise. The price of oil for the past 40 years or so has been a roller coaster that roared up to nearly $130 per bbl, and down to below $10/bbl. It seems to me that because the supply of oil will be definitively impacted by the crippling pandemic blow, restoring the level of production to keep the oil market in balance will be difficult. It will take years for oil companies to bring their exploration budgets back up to pre-pandemic levels, and years more to discover and bring more oil to the market. The huge 80 mile long Saudi field, Ghawar, the lynchpin of Saudi oil production, has been producing since the 1950s and industry experts believe it can only make up a portion of the needed oil production. Yes, the pandemic gave us a wounded oil industry as it did the travel industry, but the difference is, while the travel industry can recover quickly, the oil industry is just the opposite. It will take years to recover, because banks aren’t going to be standing in line to get burned again after the shale fiascos, and most of the former small shale players are long gone. But that’s not all. Every oil exploration company in the world cut their budget drastically when the pandemic hit, and that means a corresponding reduction in new oil coming on line. That, when combined with the normal yearly decline of existing wells, means there will be less worldwide capacity to make up the demand. In a few short years, we would need over 20 million barrels more of oil a day, when compared to today’s worldwide production, and by late 2021 and even more. Even with the Saudis and Russians cranking up production, it would be hard to reach that level, and OPEC would be in control again. A few years back a Saudi Oil Minister said “I think a hundred dollars a barrel is a fair price for oil.” Would an undersupplied oil market drive the price of oil to a price of $190/bbl, which in turn would drive the price of gasoline to an unheard of $8 to $10 a gallon? Maybe. You Smackover independents with those 5 bbls of oil a day wells hang in there.

 

*That is the exact title of the feature article in the latest Sierra Club magazine. Well, since I’m an oilman and a Sierra Club member, I couldn’t wait to read how the oil industry, which I have worked in for nearly 50 years, was going to go kaput. I won’t go into details of how the writer of the article came up with that eye-grabbing title, but let me just say this. The article is long, sleep inducing.....and just plain wrong.

            The writer is wrong for several reasons, and the first and foremost is the energy replacement for oil is just not here yet. Even the most optimistic scenarios for the use of the alternative energy still has oil and natural gas as the primary worldwide energy source for the next 30 years. The “End of Oil is not Near!”

But while we’re on the subject, let’s view the outlook for the oil and gas industry, the price of oil, and what will you pay for gasoline three years from now? The writer of the article correctly points out that the world’s oil and gas industry is going through tough times, and let me add to that. Oil industry analysts are predicting 150 additional oil and gas companies will go bankrupt within the next 12 months. Of course, that sure sounds as if it’s curtains for the industry. But it’s not, and this is why. The pandemic has reduced the overall demand for oil by between 17% and 20%. That simply means instead of 90 million barrels of oil a day the world only needs a little over 70 million barrels a day.

A few months back when the worldwide oil consumption was 90 million barrels a day, and the pandemic hit, the demand for oil dropped like a rock, and there was immediately a huge surplus of oil on the market. That actually drove the price of oil down to below $0, and that whopping drop in the price of oil immediately caused the layoff of over 100,000 oil related workers and the scaling back of countless billions of new oil and gas drilling |investments. The oil boom of the American shale oil horizontal wells was over for the time being, and as rigs were stacked and drilling was reduced, worldwide oil production began to drop. It continues to drop.

OPEC, by reducing production, has brought the price of oil back up to above $35/bbl, but most shale oil production needs for oil to sell for at least $50 per barrel, or they will lose money. That’s why the job losses and production decline will continue, and a company, which depends on cash flow from new shale oil wells that aren’t going to be drilled, won’t be able to pay their bank notes, and they will declare bankruptcy. Many of the shale oil wells have a first year decline of over 40%, so in order for a company to keep their production levels up, and pay their bankers, they must drill. So while the price of oil is well below breakeven, they are not going to drill, and the wells they have are going to steadily decline. The pandemic, by reducing the demand for oil, has already removed millions of barrels of oil from the market, and because thousands of these shale oil wells are approaching being uneconomical, they will be shut in and never produce again, and millions of barrels more will leave the market.

            With the current near-term outlook and price of oil, small companies that were active shale oil drillers, won’t be back to drill and the banks who financed them won’t return for another round.  The shale plays will return some day, but not until another boom roars through the oil patch. Another boom? Yes, and that’s not my wild dream. It is from Christyan Malek, of JPMorgan Chase who is head of Europe, Middle East and African Oil and Gas research. He said the oil market could be on the cusp of a “supercycle” that sends Brent crude skyrocketing to as high as $190 a barrel in 2025.

The rational for higher oil prices says, as a virus vaccine stops the pandemic, the world will quickly ramp up travel etc, and the demand for oil will return to pre-pandemic levels. No one knows how quickly, but it will probably will take most of 2021 to return to pre-pandemic levels. However, the pent up demand to travel for business or pleasure may swell the world market need for oil back up to even higher that 90 million barrels of oil a day by the end of 2022, and that will cause a rush to add oil production to the current 70 million bbls that will be on the market. However, all of that extra 15 to 20 million barrels of oil won’t be readily available, and when demand outstrips supply, the price of oil will rise. The price of oil for the past 40 years or so has been a roller coaster that roared up to nearly $130 per bbl, and down to below $10/bbl. It seems to me that because the supply of oil will be definitively impacted by the crippling pandemic blow, restoring the level of production to keep the oil market in balance will be difficult. It will take years for oil companies to bring their exploration budgets back up to pre-pandemic levels, and years more to discover and bring more oil to the market. The huge 80 mile long Saudi field, Ghawar, the lynchpin of Saudi oil production, has been producing since the 1950s and industry experts believe it can only make up a portion of the needed oil production.

            Yes, the pandemic gave us a wounded oil industry as it did the travel industry, but the difference is, while the travel industry can recover quickly, the oil industry is just the opposite. It will take years to recover, because banks aren’t going to be standing in line to get burned again after the shale fiascos, and most of the former small shale players are long gone. But that’s not all. Every oil exploration company in the world cut their budget drastically when the pandemic hit, and that means a corresponding reduction in new oil coming on line. That, when combined with the normal yearly decline of existing wells, means there will be less worldwide capacity to make up the demand. In a few short years, we would need over 20 million barrels more of oil a day, when compared to today’s worldwide production, and by late 2021 and even more. Even with the Saudis and Russians cranking up production, it would be hard to reach that level, and OPEC would be in control again. A few years back a Saudi Oil Minister said “I think a hundred dollars a barrel is a fair price for oil.”

Would an undersupplied oil market drive the price of oil to a price of $190/bbl, which in turn would drive the price of gasoline to an unheard of $8 to $10 a gallon?

            Maybe.

You Smackover independents with those 5 bbls of oil a day wells hang in there.

 

Picking up Kids and Losing Power I have two items I want to write about. Getting kids to school and back and underground utilities, and from what I have observed, both items need our attention. First, getting kids back and forth from school. I have noticed in this pandemic, it has become a nightmare. Lines to drop off kids and pick them up stretch around the block, and if you have been in one of those lines, I feel sorry for you. This pandemic has caused simple things to become very difficult, and all of a sudden just getting a kid back and forth from school is a real headache. There should be a better way, and there is. First, let’s look back...way back to when I was in grade school. I lived a little less than a mile from school, and you couldn’t ride the bus unless you lived over a mile from school. Yes, we had a car, but I was never driven to school or picked up from school, and at age eight, I just walked. Now let’s fast forward to our today’s endless lines to drop off or pick up kids. Surely we can come up with a better way to get kids to school and back. Of course, safety is a primary concern, but with extra police patrols in our school neighborhoods, and organizations such as Parent’s Patrol, hundreds of kids can walk to school, or ride a bike to school, or carpool or meet in an off school parking lot to drop off or pick up kids. The problem is not that difficult to solve, and it would save thousands of moms and a few dads hundreds of hours a month. Or why don’t we do what some colleges are doing, which is to encourage electric scooters. It seems, in El Dorado, that teens and preteens are renting them as an entertainment item to buzz around downtown. However, that’s just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to their uses. The University of Arkansas has seen the number of scooters on campus mushroom, and these aren’t joy riders who rent one for an hour or so. These students own their electric scooters, and they ride them because they get to class quicker and parking is easy. Traffic around the campus is terrible, and there is never enough parking for +20,000 students. Scooters, ebikes, and regular bikes have seen a huge percentage increase in sales over the past year. Our cities, states, and the rest of us need to realize it’s not 1965 and get with the programs. Last year, before the pandemic hit, we were on vacation in New York City and watched as tie-wearing businessmen zipped by, weaving through traffic on scooters—-why? Because scooters are a better way to get from one place to another when there is heavy traffic and no place to park. Or you can get your kid a motorized skateboard or just let them use a regular one. My granddaughter and her boyfriend commuted to work when they lived in San Francisco, on a skateboard for two. To say we’re a bit behind the curve is an understatement. No, I don’t think we’re going to see a swarm of El Dorado students zip by on motorized skateboards, but we sure have the ability to get kids to school without lining up in a string of cars a half mile long. I wouldn’t sit in a car and line up thirty minutes ahead of when school lets out, because there’s a better way, and if it meant putting my kid on a scooter so be it, and if my kids had to walk a few or maybe 10 blocks, I would put good walking shoes on them and shoo them out the door, and if I had safety concerns, I would walk with them. A couple of miles a day walk will do you a world of good. When the new El Dorado High School was under construction, I met with the Superintendent of Schools and asked that sidewalks be built to link the school to the residential areas nearby. I was told no. What should have happened was a six foot wide sidewalk from the school to a monitored traffic walkway on Hillsboro Street, then let the city continue up Timberlane with a new sidewalk to Main Street. Every city should connect schools, shopping and recreation areas, with sidewalks and trails. El Dorado’s trail plan has already been done. Fifteen years ago Dr. Glasser and team from the U of A worked a year on a city plan, and the result was breathtaking. A detailed plan for the city, and part of it was to create a network of trails that would be wonderful today, but we didn’t construct one foot of trails. What if your child could just walk down a sidewalk that connected to a trail and walk on to school. Well, considering the snail’s pace of city governments it may be a while before we see a lot of either trails or linking sidewalks. But it doesn’t have to be fifty years from now. Tell your mayor to form a committee to recommend a series of new linking sidewalks and trails that would connect every school in the city. If you want an example check, the sidewalks and trails that are already active in Seattle. Today, 30% of Seattle downtown workers walk, bike, or use scooters. El Dorado, as late as the 50s, had sidewalk crews who added sidewalks from downtown into the various neighborhood, and if you live where these old sidewalks are still present, your kids can walk at least part of the way to schools. Most cities stopped putting in sidewalks in the early 60s, and in residential areas, they stopped repairing them. Today progressive cities are building sidewalks and trails. Are we doomed to always be 25 years behind the curve? Sidewalks and trails to shopping areas and schools should be a priority in every town in the state. & And now to the other gripe I have, and it is a simple one. Its past time to ignore the need to put electrical utilities underground, and it can be done without breaking the bank. Of course, downtown El Dorado never has a power outage, and we didn’t have one when Laura came whistling by. Why? We have underground utilities! Arkansas needs, just for starters, a mandate for underground utilities in all new construction, and a statewide plan to gradually, over the next 25 years, to add a percentage of the state with underground utilities each year. In every town and city in the state there are thousands of electrical lines hanging from poles, and the odds of a thunderstorm taking one of them out or an ice storm or just old age guarantees some Arkansawyers will be without power when it rains or storms or ices. Yes, it can be done, if we have elective officials who have enough backbone to demand it. Kids getting kids to school easily, and houses not losing power every time a thunderstorm roars though the state, is not too much to ask.

Fantasy Hog Football

 

          Fantasy Hog Football

My columns have been way too serious lately, so going to pick some Hog football wins and losses. It’s SEC Fantasy Football with a Hog look, and while I’m at it, I have a few pointers to give our cheerleaders, bands, and mascots.

Let’s start with the overall schedule, and according to most of the pundits, it’s the toughest schedule ever in the history of football, and if the Hogs played in the NFL it would be a step down. Well. I’m not bothered a bit with the omission of the “Little Sisters of Mercy” schools being dropped. Course, I’m not coaching or playing, but heck, if you knock off one of them it’s a “so what?” and God forbid, if they whip up on the Hogs, its coach changing time.

The season starts September 26 with Georgia, the team with ugliest mascot in the SEC, a fat, squatty dog named Uga. Being the ugliest is hard to do ‘cause you have to be uglier than a hog. Georgia will probably be suiting up walk-ons, but since Hog Coach P. knows all the Georgia secrets, and the overconfident Georgia team has already written up a win, the Hogs will surprise the Dogs, and will win in a squeaker 14 to 10. And Asa will designate September 26 as a state holiday.

Well, the Hogs won’t be underdogs when they head for cowbell country, which is Mississippi State. Yes, ringing those cowbells can get on your nerves, and I would imagine the sale of hearing aids in Mississippi is pretty lucrative. However, the Hogs will still be celebrating the big Georgia victory, and won’t be at the top of their game. It’s going to be a close game, but another dog team in the SEC will pull it out and Mississippi[RM1]  State will take a 20 to 17 win. Say Mississippi State folks: four dog teams are three to many in the SEC. Get another mascot. How about the Cows---you know like cowbells?

In game three the Hogs are on the road to Auburn, and old what’s his name, the Arkansas turncoat coach, will be lying in wait, and it won’t be good day for Hogs. They’ll come back to Fayetteville with two hams missing, and a 14 to 3 loss. But there is light at the end of the tunnel, and it ain’t a freight train, it’s Ole Miss. The Rebels will roll into Fayetteville, and the U of A band won’t be playing Dixie. Actually, I think the band should work up a “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” as a theme song. Well, while I’m talking about the band, I recommend a new 2020 look. Maybe Snoop Dogg could design something, and get rid of those hats. I see a red baseball cap with “Make the Hogs Great Again” on it. Of course, our female cheerleaders might ask Lady Gaga for a little wardrobe help. But it’s a home game for the hogs, and my bet is Razorback Stadium will be packed and roaring for the Hogs. It’s the Hogs by two field goals, 27-21, and Arkansas’s virus cases will spike to 4000 a day for the next two weeks.

Then its head down to Texas A & M. Yeah, I can’t stand those Aggies. The Corp goes over the top even when they are getting killed. When we lived in Texas and went to College Station to watch the Hogs play, and the Corp booed when our band played the U of A’s Alma Mata, was when I put those suckers in my low rent category. And they have another stupid dog as a mascot named Reveille Hey, you morons, we have way too many dog mascots already in the SEC. You need a new mascot. How about the “Lizards?” Well, the Hogs will have found a quarterback by this time in the schedule, and a series zippie passes and a running quarterback will knock off the Aggies, 32 to 17.

Then it’s back to the hill to play another dog team. Evidently, some folks think if you are in the SEC you have to have dog as a mascot. Well, Tennessee has Smokey # 10 a really dumb looking hound dog, and yes they are also called the Vols, since most sportswriters can’t spell Volunteers. But since their colors are a sick orange, and they look a little too much like Texas burnt orange, I developed an immediate dislike for Tennessee. However, the Hogs will roll as our new quarterback will run circles around the Vols, and Arkansas picks up another win. It’s a 21 to 10, Hogs, and for the first time since, only God know when, the Hogs have won three in a row.

Well, with a whopping three game winning streak the Hogs will head for Florida with their heads in the sky, and that’s why they will get their collective asses kicked. My crystal ball says “The Swamp” will do in the Hogs. I’m seeing a gator go, chomp, chomp; Florida 14, Hogs 3.

Now its payback time, and the battered and bloodied Hogs will return to their pen in Fayetteville to face the over-ranked LSU Tigers—well at least they aren’t dogs. Yes, I know there are at least 50 other football teams called the Tigers, but Louisiana isn’t known for being original. I think LSU will be ranked number one. It’s the big upset of the season as I see it, and if we don’t get a forfeit, (Louisiana is also number one in the virus category) a final minute field goal wins it, 24-21.

Yes, by game 9 with Missouri the Hogs will have their game down, and they will roll. Of course, I have a problem with Missouri’s mascot, the Tigers. Come on guys! We already have enough Tigers. When you folks play LSU do you just yell “Go Tigers” and figure you have a winner one way or another. I guess I’m going to have to come up with a name, and it seems Missouri is just up there in never-never land and maybe just the “Nobodies” would fit them. Yeah, the Hogs will take Missouri by two touchdowns, 28-14, but nobody will care.

Hogs are on a roll, and some folks picking them to knock off Alabama, which is rumored to have genetically engineered pom-pom girls, but our Hogs have been reading their press clipping and checking on bowl games instead of getting fired up to meet Alabama, and it will be another slaughter, but not as bad as the really bad slaughters in the past, but the Hogs will lose. As the Hogs stagger off the field a packed home crowd will cheer them as if they had won, (Hog fans reached crowd immunity after the Ole Miss game) and the buzz will be “Coach P. can coach.” Sorry, but my crystal ball sees a 28 to 10 Crimson Tide (at least they aren’t another dog or tiger team.) win.

Those are my Fantasy-Hog Football picks, folks. I believe the hogs will go 5-5, even though the pundit’s consensus says they will get 1.5 wins. I guess they don’t count Missouri as a full win.

 

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 [RM1]

May You Live in Interesting Times

“May You Live in Interesting Times”

 

“May you live in interesting times”, is an old Chinese proverb. Today it’s a time when we go from being bored out of our minds to panicking from a sore throat. But it’s also a time that brings out the best in people, and as we look back at trying times in the past it’s easy to see how we individually and as a country responded. We will whip this virus, but we can control it faster, if we will unite to fight it.

The virus impact can be as little as just being slightly inconvenienced to devastation. The family who loses a loved one will always remember the sadness associated with the pandemic. Of course, the pandemic doesn’t affect everyone the same, and although it is a worldwide health emergency, the response to controlling it is different in various countries. We will probably look back and regret the terrible job America has done in controlling the pandemic, when compared to Western Europe or New Zealand. Yes, the response from our European friends has been to mandate certain things to limit exposures to the virus, and that is something we haven’t done on a national basis. Our country’s lapses have killed many Americans, because our control of the virus has been erratic. At first we tried to ignore it, and then we instigated some recommendations, but as a whole, the country never tackled the virus like countries that got it under control quickly and were able to reduce virus deaths.  

            Today, as we see our country’s virus deaths spiraling out of control, we are still in an “Open things up mood” and mandatory masks and social distancing are just recommendations in many parts of the country. What should have happen back in March and April, when the virus became an epidemic in New York City, was a national mask mandate that carried a stiff fine for not complying. And don’t give me that old crap about you having the freedom to not wear a mask. You cover your naked bottom don’t you, and showing your bottom is not going to kill anyone, but when you don’t wear a mask you become part of the problem.

            Americans are not going through this pandemic with the lowest possible loss of life, and it’s because of insane gatherings like 250,000 motorcycle riders going to Sturgis mostly without masks. How many thousands were infected, and how many will die, because of that rally? But it’s sure not just a big biker rally. How about First Baptist Church in Dallas holding a Patriotic Service with a 150+ voice shoulder to shoulder choir without masks, to a packed audience without a mask requirement or practicing social distancing? If your church is holding services without mandating masks or social distances, your church is part of the problem.

            Now let’s look at the economic devastation caused by the virus. If having a couple of hundred thousand Americans die doesn’t bother you, maybe the store closings and bankruptcies will get your attention. Some of these studies and statistics are absolutely shocking. In New York City an estimated 60% of their restaurants won’t open back up, and thousand upon thousands of employees, of not only the restaurants, but from stores in every state will be unemployed. We are not only seeing the big stores such as J. C. Penny and other large department stores close, but thousands of small businesses nation-wide are closing daily, never to reopen.

            During this time of a National Emergency, all Americans should work to lift up our small business neighbors, and by doing so make surviving the pandemic a national effort whether it directly affects you or not. Our National and State governments have tried to mitigate the terrible consequences that are befalling the American workers and businesses, but their help has been a pittance compared to what is needed.

Of course, if you are employed by a local, state, or a national governing body, you haven’t had to worry about not receiving a paycheck, and if you are working for a large major company that can weather the storm, you are still going to get paid. However, most Americans aren’t in that shape, and small business are at the top of the list of entities that are affected by the pandemic. Every town in this country, large or small, have local businesses that are in dire straits, and hundreds of thousands of those small businesses won’t survive without help. That is a fact. Now, whether your town or city is 200 or 20,000 or 200,000, in population the survival of your small business community is critical to the wellbeing of the entire town. It is going to be up to the individual town or city to shore up these small business, and help them anyway possible. If we don’t…well you stand to lose the heart of your town or city.

Most of our downtowns are the home of small stores and restaurants, which are owned by local residents. Downtowns are looked upon as the center of town, and that is important. One of the major players in the rejuvenation of downtown San Antonio, Texas told me they worked on restoring their downtown because, and I quote, “When your downtown is perceived as a failure, your entire city is looked upon in the same way.” I don’t believe there is an Arkansas downtown, which wouldn’t look like a failure, if that downtown lost 50% of its businesses. But that is exactly what will happen, if these businesses don’t get help. Those stores and restaurants are seeing sales plummet, and many of them will go out of businesses.

However, it seems most of our towns are ignoring the problem, and for small businesses, it’s sink or swim. If your downtown looks shabby, it’s because your City refuses to provide the funding to adequately take care of city planters, trees, and repairing sidewalks. It makes a downtown look as if no one cares, or if your city ignores ordinance enforcement to the detriment of your downtown during the pandemic, it can be the final nail in the coffin of many businesses. As a bad example, El Dorado’s Downtown has been without a Parking Enforcement Officer for 20 months, and according to the Chief of Police, it will be next year before he hires one. Stores with downtown shoppers reduced to a minimum because of the pandemic, and 80% of the downtown parking already taken by downtown workers, will spell the end of a large number of El Dorado businesses.

            The state Main Street and local Main Street programs have small economic grants to help downtown business, and every small downtown business should apply for these grants. However, these grants, while welcome, won’t be enough, if your town doesn’t chip in to help, and of course, there are multiple ways a city or town can help small businesses. Just think, if every city or town in the state would make a commitment to help small businesses survive the pandemic, it would be a time that we would look back on and be proud of how we helped each other pull through…by working together.

             

  

Why I Love the Desert Why I Love the Desert I guess, at first glance, you might think, “Old Richard has done lost it.” Yes, if you think of sand dunes and trackless wastelands as the desert, you might believe that. But my love of the Libyan Sahara Desert is more complicated than Hollywood’s version, and I do have desert experience. During my work with Exxon as a well-site geologist, I spent two thirds my time in the desert on drilling rigs, examining samples of rock drilled, every ten feet, and if I thought the rocks might be oil bearing, I stopped the drilling and ran a test. What made it complicated was, many layers of rocks drilled had traces of oil, and every test would cost the company $100,000, and if you didn’t get oil on those extra tests, you could receive a “Your services are no longer needed” note. But my time in the desert wasn’t spent just looking at rock samples. In any drilling operation there are hours of down-time especially for a geologists. In Libya there is a formation called the Heira Shale, a thick layer of rocks, and it takes a drilling rig days to drill through it. That’s when my day’s work would finish in thirty minutes and my morning report would say, “TD 8050’, drilling, 100% Heira Shale, black, splintery, shale” and that would be it until the next day. Then, when the drilling bits became dull, the bit would have to be pulled, and replacing the dull bit would usually take 6 to 8 hours. Those are the times when I would gas up the Land Rover and head for the desert. When you’re driving in the desert, you realize it’s not barren, trackless, and endless sand dunes. Since the desert was once an inland sea and later a lush African forest, and had seen countless armies march across it, remnants of all those things are still there. And it’s not “trackless”. Almost two thirds of the desert is called hard-pack, and it’s like driving on an endless, flat gravel road. All you have to do is not drive off into a wadi (a former stream bed, or drive over a large sand dune, where you would get stuck). Actually sand dunes make up less than a quarter of the desert. Trackless? Nope. You can still see the tread marks of German and British tanks from World War II, and German jerry-cans dot the desert. When we were near the coast, we were warned not to drive off the cleared, posted road near the wellsite. The Germans and English planted several million land mines, which are still active. Near the coast, on the low ridges there were machine-gun nests, which looked as if the soldiers manning them had just left. One of the oil companies hired some old ex-German soldiers, to clear land mines and these ex-soldiers had the maps where they put out the mines. I traveled by my dashboard compass, and when I would be driving cross-desert, I would sometimes read a book propped up on the steering wheel. However, that compass driving didn’t always work. I ran into a sandstorm, was lost for twelve hours, and had to spend the night in my Land Rover. But driving in the desert always turned up surprises, such as a World War I bi-plane, which I spotted on one of my drives. The plane had crashed and burned, but the metal remains were still just lying on the top of a small ridge One cross-desert trip I drove to the Kufra Oasis, where I sat in the sand around a steaming pot of vegetables and camel meat and lunched with the village heads. Then I drove down to see an American bomber, the Lady Be Good. The World War II plane had been hit by anti-aircraft fire, its navigation system disable, and ended up landing in the Desert. When the plane’s fuel supply was depleted, the crew bailed out and the plane guided down and landed. It was still intact except for bent props and collapsed landing gear. The remains of the crew were found in the mid-1950. They had all survived the bailing out, but trying to walk across several hundred miles of desert was too much for them. For a geologist, the desert was a treasure trove of many things, such as remarkable gypsum fossils just lying in the dry stream beds. Those glistening fossils kept me busy for hours on end, and the rock walls on the sides of those dried up stream beds had scratched out pictures of animals. These petroglyphs were from a pre-historic time when the climate was much wetter. At one time Libya was called the Breadbasket of the Roman Empire. As I think back on our two years in Libya, and reflect on the desert assignments, I consider them a somewhat pleasant part of a hardship tour. To be honest, Vertis has a completely different view of my desert tours, and for good reasons. After the Second World War, Benghazi had an influx of residents and the electrical system couldn’t handle the load. That meant one quarter of the town would have their electricity cut off each night. Vertis had to lock her doors, bolt the windows at dark, and couldn’t leave the house. We had a short wave radio, and when President Kenney was assassinated, she sat in the dark and listened to his funeral on the BBC. One of my last desert tours was to a remote wildcat in western Libya near the Algerian border. It was 800 miles from Benghazi, and I spent 23 consecutive days on a French rig with one other American, a French roughneck crew, and a bunch of Libyan roustabouts. It was in the red sand area of the Sahara Desert, which at one time held the world record for the world’s hottest temperature, 136 degrees. The large sand dunes in the area had a soft red hue due to iron oxide in the sand, and the red sand soaked up the sun’s energy, and held it. In other parts of the Sahara, the white sand dunes reflect the sun’s rays, and it cools down at night. It was by far the most interesting of the desert tours, and since the beat-up French rig stayed broken down a lot of the time, I had plenty of time to drive the desert and see some of the Western Sahara Desert, which was more varied and different than the central and eastern Sahara. The French rig had a French chef, and outside of squid-in-its-own-ink sauce, the food was head and shoulders above the standard fare on the American rigs in the area south of Benghazi. Since we were drilling in a different geologic basin, the rock formations were different, and that made the well site sample work more interesting. I was the geologist in charge of evaluating and testing the well, and the other Americans was the drilling engineer in charge of supervising the actual drilling. The two men responsible for the drilling and evaluating a multimillion dollar Exxon wildcat had both graduated from---and you’re not going to believe this--- Norphlet High School!

Angel Wings in El Dorado The Angel Wings in El Dorado Project is a visual, street art painting, which has become part of a worldwide phenomenon called “Angel Wings.” The El Dorado Project has been sponsored by Murphy Pitard Jewelers and the Downtown Guest Quarters, and was created by artist Lara Mason, a former student of the University of Texas Fine Art Department. The The El Dorado Angel Wings have just been finished and it is a major, visual art addition to downtown El Dorado. The impressive 10 foot by 22 foot angel’s wingspread has been painted on the north side of the historic 1909 Wilson Building at 209 East Elm Street. Even before the project was finished the Angel Wings painting attracted the attention of several hundred people, who stood between the large unfinished wings, to have their photos taken. These photos, which seem to make the person have huge wings, have been very popular. Lara Mason has skillfully, and in great detail, given the wings such a realistic feathering that they looked as if they could fly away. Lara is a photo realism artist, which requires painstaking detail with every stroke of the brush. Her art work is as close to a photograph as possible, but the texture and detail she puts in her work, distinguishes it from a true photo, and gives depth and emotion a photograph could never capture. After working to make a large double-wing cutout that would outline the spread of the wings on the building’s brick wall, she spent days working on a 10 foot ladder as she detailed every feather with texture and color. Feathers, such as those painted on the Angels Wings Project, have had, over the centuries, a symbolic significance and can be seen in numerous cultures, usually referring to spiritual communication. It seems the feathers and wings combine to create a visual draw as people line up to have their picture taken, which makes them part of the art. Based on the reception from cultures around the globe, the worldwide Angel Wings Project has kindled deep human emotions that draw people to become part of the display. It is almost a supernatural draw, which compels people to stand in the spread of the wings to have their picture made, and then of course to share it with friends. However, the Angel Wings aren’t just an artist’s project to add a splash of color to a blank brick building’s wall. It seems, from the attention the worldwide Angle Wings Project has generated, as people are drawn to be part of the art, it creates other benefits everywhere an Angel Wing Project has been instigated. There is something about the Angel Wings, which causes people to want to be a part of the art by standing between the wings and have a photo made. Here in El Dorado we have already seen a flood of visitors stopping to take a picture with someone between the wings, and with the social media and internet, the pictures of the El Dorado site are going nationwide and probably worldwide. This artwork is part of a nationwide Main Street Organization goal to create more downtown ambiance in not only El Dorado’s downtown, but with art projects all across the country, which are being instigated to enhance downtowns. One of the additional benefits of this outstanding artwork is to attract visitors to downtown El Dorado, America’s award-winning downtown. The handcrafted Angel Wings over El Dorado is perfect for a souvenir picture to commemorate a visit, and by standing with the wings the person becomes a part of the art work. It is expected that over the next few months several thousand photos will capture the dramatic set of Angel Wings, bringing additional publicity and more visitors to Downtown El Dorado. The Angel Wings in El Dorado Project is an offshoot of the original Angel Wings Project that started in Los Angeles. The first Angel Wings were designed with several goals in mind. The primary goal, which the original artist, Collette Miller stated, “Is to remind us that we are supposed to be angels on earth, and reflect the goodness of angels to our fellow man.” Ms. Miller started painting Angel Wings on some of the dilapidated building’s walls in a very rundown section of Los Angeles without city permission. She did this to give the residents of these neglected neighborhoods hope and to add a little interest and color to a drab part of town. The project was just supposed to be just a local art project to brighten up a neglected area in the city, but it was so popular those first Angel Wings have inspired a worldwide phenomenon, with Angel Wings murals on almost every continent. The initial Wings attracted so much attention and praise that the city of Los Angeles became a willing partner, and joined with Ms. Miller, which resulted in 30 more Angel Wings throughout the city. Today in Los Angeles, you can find the angel wings in the Arts district in downtown, at Angel City Brewer, the Regent Theatre, in Koreatown, and in Westfield Century City Mall. Though some Wings are commissioned and others gifted, the Wings themselves are free to the world. Angel Wings are never owned by anyone, not even Ms. Miller. Though the initial ones are of her provenance and work, and the painting all over the world are in response to her first ones. She decided to focus on lifting the spirits of people on the streets when she started creating beautiful, colorful, larger-than-life-sized angel wings all over the world. People seek them out, drawing encouragement, peace and inspiration from her works. Currently there are more than 150 installations around the world. The first pair was just street art, but the response was natural, immediate and spontaneous, from people of all sorts and backgrounds. Ms. Miller has painted wings globally in Kenya, Australia, England, Japan, France, Cuba, Juarez Mexico, Dubai, Taiwan, and more, and many in the USA. The original purpose of Angel wings was symbolic of encouragement that brings on soaring to new heights in life. Angel wings can also symbolize the will to do good to oneself and to others. (Taken from her website.) Downtown El Dorado’s Angel Wings are part of this world-wide people’s art project where individuals become part of the art as they stand between the wings and have their photo taken. It seems, from the worldwide success of the Angel Wings Project, there is an attraction, which draws people to not only view a work of art, but to become part of it, and to share it with their friends on social media. It’s hard to pin down why people are drawn to the art work, but from the very first Angel Wings painting they have been. Today downtown El Dorado, through the Angle Wings Project, has become part of a worldwide movement to encourage us, though the symbol of Angels Wings, to treat everyone equal. You’re invited to drop by downtown El Dorado to become part of the art, and celebrate the oneness of mankind.s

California Dreaming: My apologies to the Mamas and the Papas for using their song title for my column title. Most Arkansas folks have an opinion about California, and whether it’s good or bad, it probably has to do with either Disneyland or politics. I would guess more folks recognize Nancy Pelosi’s name than they do old, uh, what’s his name, our old senior senator? But we would be doing California a disservice, if we based our opinion on one political figure or a theme park. I have visited California numerous times. Played tennis matches at the John Wayne Tennis Center in San Bernardino, where you must wear all whites, which brings back an interesting tennis story. The match was set up by the Center, and when I met my opponent, who was a good 20 years younger, and told him I was from Arkansas, he reacted as if Arkansas didn’t have tennis courts, and he casually said, “I’m ranked in California.” It was a “tennis snob” attitude I would call “looking down his nose” at just playing me. I nodded. I could tell he thought he was doing me a favor by playing a backwoods, novice player. We started warming up, and I sized him up as a good player but not great. His backhand was suspect. Of course, I hit everything to his backhand, and I won the match in straight sets. We walked over to rest, and Mr. I’m Ranked in California commented, “I can’t believe you just kept getting everything back. You know I’m a ranked player in California!” “Well, I’m also ranked…in Arkansas…and you need to work on your backhand,” I said as I put my racket in its case and walked off. Yeah, that was tacky, but he deserved it. Yes, I’ve visited Disneyland, spent a vacation at La Costa Spa, listened to the Kingston Trio play in a San Francisco park, took a balloon ride over the vineyards in the Napa Valley, so I do have a feeling about the state, and let me describe it this way. Several years back we took a family vacation to New York City and our son Ashley had to go from a Scout float trip on the Buffalo National River directly to New York City. Later that day, as Ashley and I were standing on 5th Avenue looking down at a street milling with cars and shoulder to shoulder people, while fire sirens blared. He shook his head and said, “Dad, I think New York is a visiting place not a living place.” Wisdom from an observant 14 year old, and it fits my opinion of California to a T. Of course, I do miss a few amenities by living in El Dorado, but I’ll take the 5 minutes from everywhere in town, the fishing or hunting in 10 minutes from my house, and I’ll give up dining 3 star restaurants, attending pro ball games, big shopping malls and having to commute two or more hours.. But let’s look a little deeper into what is certainly a complex state with an unbelievable diverse landscape, people, and businesses. The state gave Hillary an overwhelming several million vote majority, and even some old Republican strongholds such as Orange County went Democratic in the mid-term elections. Governor Brown, before he left office, signed into law the first law in the Nation, which would ban gender discrimination on corporate boards. Corporate boards in California are now required to place women on their boards. That’s not just throwing a bone to the ladies. Numerous studies have shown a board with women on it is more productive than a male only board. California usually leads the Nation, and just as cellphones swept the country, we will follow suite, and in a decade or two the thousands of all male boards and commissions in our state and the country will have not just a woman on them, but an equal number of women. Not everything starts in California, but the state dominates the issuance of patents, and if you want to see the latest innovations, go to California. Of course, you would figure, with Democrats running the state, the average citizen’s health coverage would be top notch. But hey, that’s just California, and you might think the state is about to turn into a socialist commune, and have a huge over budget debt....but you’d be wrong. The state actually had a 21 billion budget surplus before the pandemic. The Silicon Valley companies have produced so many of our lifestyle items that I couldn’t possible list them all. Let’s face it folks, we’re actually jealous of California’s success and high standard of living. Their average medium wage is $77,252, and their longevity is 80.9 years. Arkansas average is $45,726 and our longevity is 74.5 years. That might have something to do with the number of people smoking. In California its 10.5% and in Arkansas it’s 22%. Maybe we could learn a few things from California. It’s easy to understand why California is such a dominate state. If California were an independent country its annual gross national product would place it number 5 in the world. The state is a hotbed for entrepreneurs with success stories that have influenced consumer habits around the world. Of course I’m, writing about companies such as Apple, Intel, Microsoft, and multiple more. It seem the creative atmosphere in the state combined with a huge amount of startup money from venture capitalists equals the best place in the world to start a new company. Yes, California is the home of Nancy Pelosi, known in some circles, as the wicked witch of the west. Of course, she is definitely against the border wall, but she is for mandatory health coverage for preexisting conditions, is in favor of increasing the minimum wage, has worked to keep veteran’s benefits from being reduced, is a strong promoter of increasing teachers’ salaries and for providing all graduating high school two years of free tuition. That is just a sample of the foxy, 76 year old, devout Catholic lady who looks 55, who has 6 kids and a bunch of grandkids. Well, maybe she has had a little touch up. Of course, if you’re in the market for a little perk to a sagging face, you might book a flight to L. A. and that ain’t Lower Arkansas. As much as we hate to admit it, we spend a huge amount of time and money trying to emulate California. After all, if you look at modern technology, and you don’t want to live in the 50s, you want what California has had for several years. But don’t get me wrong. I’m not even thinking about moving, because we can have it both ways...if we will just pull our heads out of the sand, and instead of trying to lure in another polluting plant or low rent business or hog farm or spray with Dicamba, we will take the best of California and add it to the Natural State where not only will we have our natural wonders, but we will actually have a state where the 21st century is not something we only see on movie screens.

A Bangs Slough Shockerroo

                 A Bangs Slough Shockerroo

I’ve had a few folks question some of my tales about growing up in South Arkansas, and I have seen some heads shaking in disbelief. But this story and those tales aren’t fiction. They are as close as I can remember to being exactly as they happened.

During my high school years, Buddy Henley and I were hunting and fishing buddies, and whatever season it was, hunting or fishing, we were doing one or the other every weekend, and even after school. It was early June when school was out and the lakes, creeks, and river were full of spring rain water. The fishing trip was an overnighter to Buddy’s folk’s cabin on the Ouachita River where we would set trot lines and fish in the River and in Bangs Slough. The cabin wasn’t a luxury cabin, but for 15 and 17 years old boys, it was just perfect, and where it was located made it a great place for an overnight fishing trip. The cabin was up river about a mile from Lock 8 on the Ouachita River, and about a half mile from the mouth of Bangs Slough. Actually, Bangs Slough is really just a big creek, but creek or slough, it was a top spot to fish. Of course, since it was early June and the water was flowing out of the slough at a pretty good rate, the mouth of the slough, where it flowed into the river, was a top spot to catch big bream.

            So that early June Friday afternoon, we loaded my Jeep and headed down to the river. Going in off the main road before coming to Lock 8 was always a little iffy. However, a few dry days had made the road passable and pretty soon we were getting our trot lines ready to set out. We had two lines that went across the river, and after a couple of hours work, we had both of them strung out with hooks about four to six feet apart. It was time to catch little sunfish and small bream to use as bait. We had some red wigglers, and fishing under the willow trees along the river bank, we managed to catch forty or fifty little fish about three fingers wide. It was time to bait the hooks. It was nearly dark when we finished, and after a long day we were ready to sack out knowing we’d be up at first light to run the trot lines.

            In only a few minutes we were both sound asleep, and it seemed I had just dozed off when I noticed the room was getting a little brighter and that meant the sun was peeking through the trees. After a quick breakfast of stale bread baloney sandwiches, we got in the old flat bottom wooden boat, cranked up the Evinrude motor, and ran the trot lines. Most of the bait was gone, but we did have several small blue cats, and one pretty good size flathead. After taking the trot line catch back to the cabin and putting them in an ice chest to skin later, we headed to Bangs Slough to fish for bream and maybe a bass or two. Crickets were our bait, and we started by fishing in the mouth of the slough where it ran into the river. It was about nine o’clock when we tossed in our first cricket baited hook, and in less than an hour, we had caught half an ice chest full of good size bream. Our fishing trip was turning out great. However, as the sun beamed down, sometime around eleven o’clock, we decided to paddle up Bangs Slough, partly to get out of the sun.

 We always enjoyed easing along with one of us sitting in the back of the boat just paddling enough to slowly move through the water and around the big cypress trees that lined the creek or were out in the middle of the creek. Easing along fishing as we slowly moved up Bangs Slough or Champanolle Creek is etched in my mind as one of the more pleasurable times of growing up in South Arkansas. After about an hour, we had caught a variety of fish. One of the more interesting parts of fishing up one of the major creeks that flow into the Ouachita Rives is not ever knowing what you were going to catch when you tossed your cricket beside one of the big cypress trees. Over the past few years, we had caught small alligator gar, grinnell, bass, crappie, and bream.

            It was toward the end of our fishing trip, when we were about to turn back down the slough and head for the cabin, when the front of the boat bumped up against an old treetop that had fallen in the water. The treetop was mostly just bare limbs with driftwood stacked up on the limbs, and I was about to push back from the tangle of limbs, which were almost hanging over the front of the boat when I saw something. It was the biggest cottonmouth water moccasin I have ever seen, and it was about to slide off a tree limb and into our flat bottom boat. We always took a 22 rifle with us when we went fishing, and since a deadly snake was about to join us in the boat, I grabbed the 22 and quickly shot the snake in the head. It killed the snake, but as we looked at it, remarking how big it was, we noticed something: there was a large very noticeable bulge about halfway down the middle of the snake.

            We started talking about what it could be, and I said, “Some poisonous snakes have live births and some lay eggs. It could be little snakes or eggs.” Well, after a few more comments, we decided to get the snake and cut it open to see what was causing the big bulge. It took a few minute, but pretty soon we had it lying on the boat seat belly up, and Buddy pulled out his hunting knife. It was super sharp, and as I held the snake stretched out, Buddy made a long cut right where the bulge was.

            Buddy, who was looking down hanging over the snake, said “I see something…Ahaaaa!” He jumped back as something hit him in the chest, and so did I. Then we looked down in the bottom of the boat to see what had come out of that big snake. It was a large bullfrog. It took a couple of hops, and then jumped out of the boat into the water…a bullfrog Jonah.

thenorphletpaperboy: Wlakin' and Talkin'

thenorphletpaperboy: Wlakin' and Talkin':                 Walkin’ and Talkin’   I’m a walker, and El Dorado’s 167 Bypass is my usual trail. (I switched from jogging to walking ...

Wlakin' and Talkin'

                Walkin’ and Talkin’

 I’m a walker, and El Dorado’s 167 Bypass is my usual trail. (I switched from jogging to walking after reading an internet article, “Why Walking is the Best Exercise) However, it’s about as boring as any walking area you can imagine, so I try to mix up my route by going from downtown to our house on Calion Road. Vertis and I start our day before seven o’clock meeting in downtown with Teresa, our property manager, over a cup of P. J.’s coffee. That’s where I start my walk home. It’s a little less than three miles, and I wanted to get my walk in before it hit 90 degrees. The difference between 75-85 and 85-95 and shady streets vs open sun on the Bypass is enough to make you do an early morning walk. Well, walking toward my house from downtown is sure better than out on the Bypass with cars zooming by. The neighborhood walks are certainly more scenic, and homeowners, walkers, and runners are plentifully.  

 I was about a half mile from downtown walking down Madison Avenue when I passed another walker on the other side of the street. We both said, “Good morning” and then he said, “Hey, Mr. Mason..” as he walked over to say something. I stopped, he walked up, and the first thing he said was, “You know I disagree with a lot of your columns….” And I thought, Oh, no. here it comes. Then he said, “But your Sunday column was right on target.” Well, I smiled, and we had a good conversation about using the Ouachita River for recreation, and lowering the water to the pre-60s level, and then he said, “You know, I think what this county needs is more dialogue.” Of course, I agreed with him.

Well, it turned out that particular morning walk was going to be different. I continued walking north on Madison Avenue when I noticed another walker approaching, and that’s something that frequently happens. Of course, I just said, “Mornin’”, but the lady just stared straight ahead and ignored my greeting, and I thought maybe she didn’t hear me so I quickly said louder, “Mornin’”, and then the rascal in me came out, as she ignored me, and I said “Have a nice day.” I don’t think I look like a threatening hulk at 6’2” and 165 pounds, and I do have a few years on me. Well, my first thoughts were, “Must not be from around here.” Or maybe her momma had told her not to speak to strangers, but this ain’t New York City, and as many times as I have passed walkers or runners that was the first time I was totally ignored. No, I don’t expect a verbal reply every time I pass someone. In fact many times, I just raise my hand. Just a friendly nonverbal recognition. I know the lady who ignored me might have had weighty matters on her mind, but my point is this. In our country, over the last few years, we have developed an ignore or hate your neighbor attitude, if that neighbor is on opposite sides of the political spectrum. But what this country desperately needs right now is more friendships, dialogue, and tolerance. The Lord didn’t say love your friends and hate your enemies. Of course He didn’t. Yes, Southerners have a heritage of being hospitable, and let’s don’t lose that. We are outgoing. We hug (when there’s not a pandemic) and on a slow drive on a back road I will frequently give a passing pickup a hi sign. This country needs more of that, not less. Our adult families, who are scattered across the state are about as mixed politically as possible, and when we meet it’s not line up and yell, and yes we discuss politics. Well, we don’t agree on a lot of things, but we do agree on loving each other, and being respectful of each opinion. Our country is over 200 years old, and we’ve been through worse times than what we’re going through now. We’ll get through this current political fight and pandemic, but we all would be better off if we could show a little tolerance and take our feelings off our shoulders. This country is really one big family, and when something from outside strikes us, such a 9/11, we pull together and forget our differences. That is when we truly act as if we really are one big family, and a loss in New York City hurts as much as a loss in Little Rock. I guess you might say we have the ability to act as one family when something horrible strikes a part of the country, and maybe where we need to start is just to say “Mornin’’ to each other.

                                                            &

Another interesting incident occurred several days later in front of our local Walmart Supercenter. When Vertis needs only a couple of items, I let her out at the entrance and then drive around to where I can see her when she comes out the exit. That morning I was waiting for her to come out when I noticed a couple walking toward the entrance of the store. He was smoking, and as they approached the entrance, they stopped while he took a few more puffs, and then, as they started in, he tossed the cigarette butt out in the street. He turned to go into the store, but his wife didn’t. She walked out in the street and stepped on the smoldering butt, picked it up, and took it to a cigarette collecting container. I thought that was great, and I rolled down my window, yelled, “Good for you!” and gave her a thumbs up. She smiled.

            That same weekend, we headed downtown to watch the Black Lives Matter group march from the football stadium down North West Avenue to downtown. It was a good size crowd. I would estimate around 250, and as the crowd gathered on the east side of our courthouse, we were there. Actually, in El Dorado, most of the active members of our community, the law enforcement officers, and almost all of our local store owners know each other, both black and white. We stood there with the crowd as other downtown merchants handed out cold bottles of water, and visited with friends in the crowd. Almost everyone had on a mask, and as the speakers addressed the crowd, and we mingled with a lot of people we knew, I remarked to Vertis that these were our neighbors, and although El Dorado is not a perfect town, and there are unequal opportunities for some of the black community, we respect each other, and the community as a whole wants to work together to make sure every person is treated fairly and with respect.  It was a peaceful wake-up-call to our city, telling everyone who will listen, that we can do better, and I for one came away from that march, committed to do as much as I can to be sure everyone in our town is respected and given the American opportunity to have the best life possible.

            And too my readers, “Mornin’.”

Hanging out with the Mafia

                   Hanging Out With The Mafia

Maybe we didn’t rub shoulders with the infamous crime family, but we had a great vacation trip to Sicily, and we might have set right next to a Mafia don at the next table. But my story about Sicily has very little to do with the Mafia. Sicily is a wonderful vacation spot.

In early October we took a direct flight to Zurich, Switzerland to rest up from our overseas flight for a couple of days. Zurich has great hotels in the center of the city on the Bahnhofstrasse, a great shopping street. After a couple of days, we boarded Swiss Air to Catania, Sicily, and after renting a tiny Fiat, we headed south, and a couple of hours later, we arrived in Ragusa.

We had good directions to our hotel in Ragusa, and, I told Vertis, “We shouldn’t have a problem.” Boy, was I wrong. As we entered Ragusa, it was obvious that unless you were a native, understanding Upper Ragusa and Lower Ragusa and that combined with Old Ragusa, which also had an Old Upper Ragusa and a New Upper Ragusa, you were going to have driving problems.

Ragusa is an ancient town that is hanging on the two walls of a steep canyon, which compounds the driving situation, and makes for dead-end streets, and of course the Old Lower Ragusa streets are centuries old and on some streets when we met a pedestrian, he or she would have to step into a doorway to let you pass. But we ventured deep into to Lower Ragusa, then back to Upper Old Ragusa and then back to New Ragusa, and of course, I don’t ask directions, but finally I gave up when I  ended up in a dead end alley, and I had to back up for a hundred yards. That’s when I thought of a way to find our hotel.

“Vertis, let’s take a taxi.”

“What? We can’t leave the car.”

“We’re not. I’m going to hire a taxi, and tell him that we are going to follow him to the hotel.”

The taxi driver understood, and then it was off to the races.  Well, we careened down into Lower Old Ragusa like we were going to a fire, and then the taxi pulled over, and with a bit of English he told us the road was closed because of a festival, but if we walked straight down the street, we couldn’t miss the hotel.

“Hotel will come get car tomorrow,” he promised.

“Surely, you aren’t going to leave our bags and the car on the sidewalk, are you?” Vertis asked.

Yes, the car was on the sidewalk, but I just mumbled, “Yeah, get your purse.”

Down into Lower Old Ragusa we walked, and after about what I estimated to be a half mile, I spotted crowds of people, and lo and behold, the hotel. Well, the receptionist was nice and soon we were checked in. Then as she started to leave she said, “St George is coming!”

Well, I looked at Vertis and said, “Let’s go see St. George.”

We walked a couple of blocks to a very large plaza that was packed with people, bands, food, and drink. After an hour or so, a group of trumpet players from the church steps started up and everyone began crowding around the upper end of the plaza.  Then with a roar from the huge crowd, and more music, trumpets and singers than you would believe, a bigger than life St George on a white horse killing a dragon came out of a side street. It was a huge float carried by at least 30 men. It was a sight to behold. St. George is the patron saint of Ragusa and this was St George’s Day.

Wow, what a start to our Sicily trip! We spent several nights in Ragusa meeting some of the friendliest folks and eating the best food you can imagine, and then it was off to what was billed as a small inn between several towns we wanted to visit. This time directions were from the inn’s owner, and they seemed very good until we turned off the main highway, and according to the directions there would be another road in two miles where I would make a right turn. I slowed down to see if there was a road, when a car pulled out and stopped.

“I’ll ask directions,” I told Vertis. She laughed.

However, before I could get out of the car, the man walked over and asked, “Are you the Masons?”

We were surprised, but he said, “I’m Enrico, the owner. Just follow me.”

We drove through the vineyard to a rustic looking large manor house where we settled in. It turned out we were the only guests for the next several nights, and with a chef-waiter from Bangladesh, who did wonderful things in the kitchen, we were treated royally. The chef-waiter, wearing a white smock, stood about six feet away as we dined, and just a nod brought whatever we wanted.

Enrico couldn’t have been more charming and accommodating, and when we told him we owned a small executive inn, Union Square Guest Quarters, he checked it out on the internet and promised to visit. During the conversation, he commented that we should go see the caverns, which puzzled us, but the next day, off we went, and about an hour later, we stopped at the site. But as we walked into a wooded area, we realized he meant, “Columns” and I expected to see some ruins, but we were shocked. It was an open quarry where the columns for major ancient buildings were chiseled out of solid rock to be taken and put in place at temples. The workers had the exact measurements to make them fit. But what was an eye-opener, were the half-finished ones still partly in solid rock. It seems a Mr. Hannibal from North Africa, showed up and work stopped.

The next day it was on to Agrigento a small town located an easy driving distance to several major Greek ruins. (By the way, Agrigento is one of Dr. Steve Jones of El Dorado favorite vacation spots.) The best ruins were in an area called the Valley of the Temples where we spent the day touring several major Greek ruins. There’s not a valley, but a string of major temples, all within a five mile area. They are the most spectacular Greek ruins of any I’ve ever seen.

Eight house later, Vertis said, “I’ve seen enough Roman ruins to last a life-time…”

“They were Greek, Vertis.”

“Whatever!”

Then it was on to Palermo where we dined at an excellent restaurant. We were well into our meal when I noticed four men walk in. Two of them stopped at the door, and two continued on into the restaurant. Wow, it was as if President Trump had walked into Wood’s Place in Camden. The waiters, manager, and even the chef suddenly appeared to welcome them and usher them to a choice table.

I asked out waiter. “Who are these men?”

“They are very important people,” he replied….”Would you care for a desert?”

Hummmm!

Hogskin County

                               Hogskin County

            It seems columnists, and I’m one of them, like to write about people and places. So this week the name out of the hat is Hogskin County. Well, if you’re not from L. A. (Lower Arkansas) you probably don’t have a clue about Hogskin County, so let me enlighten you. Back in the early settlement days of the state, Hogskin County had some bad hombres, and as the story goes, they would come over to Union County and rustle hogs. Well, the hog rustlers, would shoot the hogs, and running from the law, would haul them back across the Ouachita River to skin and dress them. So, I think you get my drift. That’s when we Union County folks started calling Calhoun County, ****Hog Skinning County, which became Hogskin County. Well, associating Calhoun County with hog rustling is a touchy subject over across the river, so in this column, I’m going to go with Calhoun.

            But Calhoun County is more than a place where hog rustlers hightailed it to in order to escape the law in Union County, and skin their swiped hogs. Actually, I’ve spent a lot of days in the County, and it’s high on my list of favorite Arkansas places to visit, and I’m not a hog rustler. Two of my top places to fish and hunt are in Hogskin…opps, Calhoun County, and I have spent many hours paddling up Champanolle Creek weaving around big cypress trees, flipping a cricket in a fishy looking spot. Champanolle Creek is truly one of the hidden gems that lives up to the Natural State moto.  The first time I fished at Cooks Lake, which is just a wide spot in the creek, I remember asking the old feller who was running the boat camp, “Where’s the Lake?”

 “Son, you’s a-looking at it.”

‘Uh, well that’s the creek,” I replied.

“Well son, guess the folks who named it couldn’t tell a creek from a lake.”

I would rent a boat at what was called Cooks Lake Landing at Champanolle Creek, and after pushing off and paddling for 50 yards or so, I slowly drifted into total solitude. Most of the time I wouldn’t see or hear anything but sounds of nature. Years later, I can still visualize my boat moving slowly up the creek. The other fishing spot I frequented was Long Lake, which is fairly close to Cooks Lake, but across the creek, which entailed a circle of five miles to reach the lake, a bend cutoff of the creek. But there was a lot more than fishing in Champanolle Creek or Long Lake that kept me coming back.

 Champanolle Creek and the cotton fields near the Creek drew me back time after time because the area around the so called lake and creek was once a large Indian village, and based on my finding, it was one of the largest villages in south Arkansas. I spent hours walking the cotton field rows picking up arrowheads, and I remember finding 23 perfect ones in one afternoon. On another trip I found, washed out on the bank of the creek, a perfect flint knife. The camp was a pre-Caddo tribe because of the absence of pottery and the presence of a large mound called Boones Mound.  Supposedly, either Daniel Boone or one of his son’s camped on the mound.

However, all my Calhoun County memories aren’t rosy. After a big spring rain, I headed for Cooks Lake to hunt arrowheads, and just before I got there I had to drive across a slough that had backed up from the big rain. The jeep, my dad had bought me when I was a senior, flooded out, and I had to wade out and hitchhike home. When my dad and I returned the next morning only the top of the jeep was above water. I had to swim out to tie the pullout chain on the bumper. We drained the oil and gasoline, but it never ran the same.

Of course, there’s more to Calhoun County than good places to hunt, fish, and look for arrowheads. It’s the former home of the Minkeye Saloon. Of course, with a name like that there is a story behind it. Back in 1902 an OK Corral type gunfight took place on the courthouse square in downtown El Dorado. There were three killed and three wounded; the same as the OK Corral Gunfight in Tombstone. City Marshal James Guy Tucker, who was wounded in the gunfight, recovered and continued as Marshal.

A year after the gunfight, Marshal Tucker met another Parnell brother on Main Street, and after what was described as a heated argument, Marshal Tucker pulled his gun and shot him. He was tried for murder, but acquitted. Said he thought the Parnell brother, who was unarmed, was reaching for a gun. However, he lost his job as City Marshal and moved across the Ouachita River from Champanolle Landing and ran the Minkeye Salon. We assume the Minkeye was a rather shabby added on log cabin, which served hog rustlers, riverboat passengers, and featured the same riverboat whisky, a golden tequila called El Dorado Tequila, the namesake of the town.

However, the feud caught up with the former marshal when he and his son crossed the Ouachita River on horseback to get their mail at Champanolle Landing. Before the locks, the river could be waded across during the summer. After picking up the mail, he was ambushed and severely wounded but his son proudly proclaimed, “I’ve still got all the mail, daddy.” Marshal Tucker lost an arm, and decided to leave south Arkansas. He moved to Little Rock and was elected to several public offices. His grandson is former governor Jim Guy Tucker. Today, the Minkeye lives on in downtown El Dorado, as The Minkeye, An Arkansaw Pub. The Gunfight on the Square is re-enacted several times each summer and former Governor Tucker has frequently attended. One of the last times he was in town, he walked into the Minkeye, slammed his hand down on the bar and yelled, “Gimme a whisky!”

Several decades back the state put the population rank of each county on everyone’s license plate. Little Rock legislators are suspect for wanting to have a # 1 on their license plates. Of course, Calhoun County was number 75. I guess that’s not all bad, since they have been keeping social distancing since the 1860s, and they have 0 coronavirus cases. With only a little more than 5000 people in the county, that’s 10 people per square mile. Well, we may see some of the rich and famous folks start leaving New York City flocking to Hogskin County, (sorry that just slipped out)   to get away from the virus hot spots

I remember Calhoun County rather vividly from when I was in school at the University.  I would ride to south Arkansas with my roommate who was from Banks, and when he turned toward Banks, he would let me off at Jack’s Liquor store in downtown Hampton. Vertis would drive over from Smackover to meet me, and sometimes we would get nearly back to El Dorado before we would stop to talk,

thenorphletpaperboy: Rememberng Charlie Murphy

thenorphletpaperboy: Rememberng Charlie Murphy:           Remembering Charlie Murphy During my sophomore year at the University, after my father was killed in a drunk driving accide...

Rememberng Charlie Murphy

          Remembering Charlie Murphy

During my sophomore year at the University, after my father was killed in a drunk driving accident---he was the drunk driver, Charlie Murphy, of Murphy Oil and I had a number of talks, and I began to depend on him for advice. Right before I got married, I went for another talk, and he recommended I get a second degree or a master’s degree to go with my B. S. in geology. Vertis was going to enter the University as a freshman, and I would be in graduate school.

We took his advice. However, with Vertis in school, and even with me doing part time work, we ran out of money as the school year ended.  Vertis was going to work full time that fall, but if I didn’t get a good summer job, I couldn’t finish my Master’s Degree. That summer when I desperately searched for a job is so vivid, I can remember it as if it were yesterday.

                                                             &                                              

May 24^th, 1960

It has been a week, and I’ve been to 17 companies applying for a job; without any luck, and I’m desperate. As I rack my brain trying to come up with another company to interview, I think about what I have to do. If I can’t save at least a $1000 during the summer, even with my part time jobs and Vertis working; we can’t make it.

Finally, in desperation, I decide to go see Charlie Murphy, I know Murphy doesn’t have any summer jobs in their home office, but since my father died, he’s been a mentor to me during my undergraduate time at the University. I 'm hoping he might know of some company that is hiring. I've just hung up the phone after talking with Charlie’s secretary, and I have an appointment with him tomorrow.

As I ride the elevator up to Charlie’s office, I’m thinking about what I’m going to tell him, and as soon as I walk in his office, I start rattling like a magpie going over my situation.

“Charlie, I can’t go back to college, if I don’t get a summer job.”

“Have you been to Lion Oil and Wheeling Pipeline?’

“Yes, sir, and fifteen other companies in town.”

Charlie is shaking his head, and I’m getting a sick feeling. It seems to me, I’ll spend the summer doing odd jobs, and not have enough money to return to college. I don’t want to even think about what my situation will be if that happens. I’m standing up to leave, but before I can turn around Charlie says, “Oh, I forgot about ODECO.  I think they’re hiring a roustabout crew for the summer.”

I know Murphy Oil Corporation owns 50% of Ocean Drilling and Exploration Company, an offshore drilling company located in New Orleans, and I’m holding my breath.

“Would you mind working offshore for several weeks at a time and driving back and forth to south Louisiana?”

 “No, sir! Who do I need to talk to and where is their office?”

            Charlie is writing down the Personal Manager’s name and the company address, and as he hands it to me. I thank him, and head home to make plans to leave for New Orleans the next morning.                                                           

                                                                           &

It’s not even daylight, and I’m driving south toward New Orleans in my old 1950 Ford. Six hours later, it’s 11:00 o’clock, and I’m parking in front of the building where ODECO’s offices are located. I check the building directory, step in the elevator, and seconds later I’m walking into the ODECO office. There’s a secretary sitting in the outer office, and I smile and walk up to her desk.

“Good morning; I’m Richard Mason from El Dorado, Arkansas, and I’d like to see Tom Lewis the Personal Manager.”

“Just a moment, Mr. Mason. I’ll see if he’s available.”

In a couple of minutes, I see Mr. Lewis coming to the receptionist’s desk.

“Mr. Lewis, I just drove in from El Dorado to apply for a summer job as a roustabout.”

He’d shaking his head, and I’m getting a sinking feeling.

“Son, we don’t have anything.”

I’m standing in front of the reception desk wondering why Charlie let me drive to New Orleans when ODECO isn't hiring.

Mr. Lewis is starting to walk back to his office, and I’m sick at my stomach. As I’m about to leave, he stops and asks, “Why did you drive down here from El Dorado to apply for a job?”

            I’m giving up now, but I manage to say, “Well, Mr. Murphy told me you might be hiring.”

“Mr. Murphy? Mr. Charlie Murphy?”

 “Yes, sir, he said he’d heard ODECO is going to hire a summer roustabout crew.”

            “Just a minute, son, I’ll be right back.”

 Mr. Lewis is walking back to his office, and I’m wondering what’s going on.

He’s back now and he’s smiling.

“I’d forgotten all about that roustabout crew. Mr. Murphy was right. When can you go to work?”

 I want to work every hour I can, so I say, “Monday morning”.

“All right, come on back, we’ll fill out some paper work, and send you out to get a physical.”

                                                                   &

It’s Sunday night about nine o’clock, and after kissing Vertis goodbye, I’m back in the old, green Ford driving south toward Louisiana, and seven hours later, I’m pulling into the parking lot marked on my map Mr. Lewis gave me. It’s a little after three A. M., but I’m afraid to try and get some sleep---what if I oversleep---so I’m just going to sit in the car until 4:30.

My gosh the minutes seem to drag by, but it’s finally 4:30, and I’m walking over to the boat dock at Cocodrie, swatting mosquitoes as I wait on the crew boat to arrive. I’ve been given instructions to board the crew boat at 5 o’clock, and it will take me to the offshore rig where I’ll be working. The crew boat is right on time.

There’s a man with a list of workers. He looking at me and asks, “You Mason?”

“Yeah.”

“Throw your stuff in the back and take a seat.”

There are two benches in the lower part of the crew boat, and I take a seat on the end of one of them. Ten minutes later another 8 men have come on board, and they are sprawling out leaning back again the side of the boat trying to get a little more sleep. The smell of beer and cigarettes is overwhelming.

The crew boat pulls away from the dock, and it a smooth ride while we are in the inner-coastal canal, but now we’re heading for the open Gulf. Wow, the crew boat is banging into four to six foot swells, and I’m gripping the seat trying to hold on.  Its been four hours now, and, yuck, two of the men have just thrown up and vomit is sloshing around on the floor. It’s not bothering anyone but me.

Finally, the is boat pulling up to the ODECO’s offshore rig, the El Dorado, (Named after El Dorado.), and I’m stepping into a lift net. My college-saving-summer-job is starting.

An Arkansas Call of the Wild,

               An Arkansas “Call of the Wild”

        My love for the outdoors started in the Norphlet High School Library, where I developed an unquenchable thirst for the written word. Jack London’s Stories of the North Woods, Fang, and of course, Call of the Wild pulled me in, and just the excitement I felt while reading those books became an irresistible pull that directed my life as a teenager.

             After I read about the north woods trappers in one of Jack London’s novels, I was determined to have a trap line, and after I found out we had a fur buyer in Norphlet, Mr. Tommy Benton, I started buying steel traps. That next Christmas Santa moved my trap numbers up to 10, and with my paper route money, I had 15 traps. That was enough to set up a trap line in the woods along Flat Creek. My December days started with the paper route at five o’clock, and when I finished the route, I headed for the woods to run my traps.

            I could see dollar signs because mink were selling for a dollar an inch, and I figured those traps set along Flat Creek would sooner or later come up with a lot of mink. I found out it was going to be later, because my trap line was catching mainly possums and a coon now and then.  But after a month, I had things figured out, and sometimes I would catch as many as three possums and a coon a night. I would skin my catch and put the skins on a board to dry. After drying, I took them to Mr. Benton. Possums brought fifty cents and coons were as much a $3.50 because of Davy Crockett. Davy wore a coonskin cap with the tail hanging down in back. The furs didn’t bring in much money, but I did sell the skinned possum’s and coon’s carcasses for another 50 cents each. I left one foot on each so the buyer would know it wasn’t some little dog.

            My trapping did produce a couple of very interesting stories, and the first one was catching a mink on Christmas Eve. My one and only mink was a big one, 17 inches long and with the seventeen dollars from Mr. Benton, I headed to El Dorado Christmas shopping. 

The other incident was a little different. I baited my traps with chicken parts, which attracted a variety of animals. I caught a gray fox, several coons, and a bunch of possums. However, one morning when I walked up to one of my traps, which I had covered with chicken feathers, I had caught a big hawk. It was a red-tail hawk that we called a chicken hawk.

I had read in the school library about nomads in Asia who tamed eagles to fly off their arm and catch wild game, and as I stood there staring at that hawk, I decided to give the art of falconry a try. The trap had just caught the hawk by one foot, and hadn’t caused any damage. I always carried a tow sack to put my catch in so I put it over the hawk and unsnapped the trap, and I had a big, angry hawk in a tow sack.

            When I got back to my house, I worked almost all day to get a hood for the hawk’s head, and leather straps to tie the hawk to a perch in one of our chicken house that wasn’t being used. I built a perch, put on some heavy work gloves, and proceeded to try and tie a leather strap on one of the hawk’s feet and put a hood over the hawk’s head. Finally, after getting pecked and clawed until I almost gave up, I had the hawk’s head covered, which slowed things down. Then, after I tied a leather strap around one foot and tied the other end to the perch where I had placed the hawk, I pulled off the hood. Well, of course the hawk tried to fly, but ended up hanging upside down. It took the rest of the day to make the hawk understand it couldn’t fly off, but finally it would stay perched when I took off its hood. I figured it was hungry since it had gotten caught in the trap, so I tried to feed it a mouse from one of the many mouse and rat traps in and around our chicken house. At first the hawk would just glare and screech at me, but the next day when I took off the hood and held up a big rat it grabbed the rat and began to rip it up to eat.

            That went on for a couple of weeks, and after a few more days the hawk would welcome me, and I didn’t have to worry about getting clawed or hooked with its beak. Then according to one of the books I had read, it was time to get the hawk to fly off his perch and land on my arm. That actually went better than I thought it would because the hawk was now considering me the one who brought food, and when I held up my arm holding a dead mouse it would fly off its perch and land on my arm. Of course, I had some thick padding to keep those claws from digging into my arm.

            Then it was time for my next step, which was to put the hawk outside, set his perch up and tie a long leather strap on its leg and have it fly about ten feet to land on my arm and grab the rat or mouse. That went off without a hitch, so I made the leather strap on the hawk’s leg longer and longer until the hawk would fly about 10 yards to land on my arm. After I did that for several days, I knew it was time to take off the leather strap and let the hawk fly across the yard to my arm. Yes, the hawk did it perfectly, and now I was ready to use the hawk to hunt with, but then, when I re-read about how the people in the deserts of Asia used eagles, I knew I had a big problem. The places where eagles where used to hunt with were barren almost deserts, and I was in Arkansas, which is full of trees. It would never work around here.

            I went to bed that night wondering what to do, and finally I had a plan. The next afternoon when took the hawk outside, I pulled off its hood, but instead of holding up a mouse for the hawk to come get, I just turned my back and walked away. It took a few minutes until the hawk decided to fly, and then when it did, it tried to fly to me, but I dropped my arm down and it did a circle and another one and then with a loud screech it flew over our house and back toward the woods.

I had decided hawks should live in the wild and not cooped up in a chicken house.

thenorphletpaperboy: Mother Nature's Way

thenorphletpaperboy: Mother Nature's Way:                 Mother Nature’s Way             I was recently flipping channels, and I came across an interesting story. A fair size...

Mother Nature's Way

                Mother Nature’s Way

            I was recently flipping channels, and I came across an interesting story. A fair size Canadian town near the Rocky Mountains had an unusual problem. Someone had released several pet bunnies, and wow, pretty soon there were rabbits everywhere.

Well. I know about rabbits first hand.  When I was about 15, I took some of my hard earned paper route money and bought a pair of rabbits, a doe and a buck. For us rabbit raisers, that’s a male and female rabbit. The man who sold them to me said, “You’ll have a litter of rabbits every thirty days. Let ‘em get ‘bout six weeks old, dress ‘em, and you can sell ‘em for a buck apiece.” I swallowed the spiel hook, line, and sinker. It was one of my early get rich schemes. 

My dad and I built a rabbit hutch, I bought a sack of rabbit pellets for food, and I was in business. When my doe had 8 kits, I could[1]  see dollar signs. Six weeks later I skinned 7 of those little rabbits and sold them for a dollar each, and the money kept rolling in, ‘cause my first female rabbit had another big litter, and a week later the female I kept from the first litter had a litter, and that was the start of my rabbit raising.

In only a couple of more months I had four females each having a litter every thirty days, and daddy and I had to build another hutch. Well, I was becoming almost a full time rabbit skinner and door to door rabbit hawker, and for about a couple of months it went pretty good, but you know, Norphlet ain’t very big, and not everyone likes fried rabbit, and even some of my best customers started telling me they had eaten enough rabbit to last a lifetime. It kinda came to a head at the supper table, when I announced, “Guess what? I had three litters of rabbits born today...twenty-seven in all.”

Well, my daddy looked at me and said, “What are you going to do with another twenty-seven rabbits? You haven’t sold all of the last three litters?”

Yeah, that was a real tough question, but I had the answer.

“I’m going to cut the price to fifty cents.” I said, and I did, and sales picked up, but then I had another four litters about the time the last three litters were big enough to sell, and I couldn’t sell them even at fifty cents. Finally daddy stepped in and after separating the bucks from the does, it slowed down what was about to become a huge rabbit problem, but I found out in about two weeks that five does were already pregnant ‘cause that week I had another 32 more rabbits to get rid of.

It took me nearly two months to get rid of all those rabbits, and momma threatened to switch me if I brought another one to cook. It got to where my former customers wouldn’t even take a free dressed rabbit, and some wouldn’t even open the door when I knocked. It finally got down to give ‘em away, and I even paid some of my paper route money for a kid to take the last two. Yeah, I know that’s is probably more than you want to know about my rabbit raising, so let’s get back to the Canadian town and their rabbit problem.

                                                         &

Pretty soon there were rabbits everywhere in that Canadian town, and these were big tame rabbits that would take up residence in your yard just like a dog, and as more and more rabbits popped up folks started talking about trying to get rid of them, and that caused a problem because a lot of folks thought they were cute. But Mother Nature came to the rescue, and big, slow-moving tame bunnies started becoming lynx, fox, and coyote food. They were a lot easier to catch than wild game, and that really reduced the town’s rabbit problem.

            Well, what does that have to do with Arkansas? Think, instead of bunnies, insert feral hogs. Will Mother Nature come to our rescue? Yes, if we will just let her. Back when I did the cougar survey, I received a call from a Canadian, who is one of North American’s cougar experts. He said and I quote, “Of course you have cougars in Arkansas. They are coming along the Arkansas River from the Rockies because you have abundant prey; whitetail deer and feral hogs.”

            As you might remember, using the sighting from around the state, I estimated 125 cougars in 35 counties are roaming the woods in Arkansas. Just this week California, which has an estimated 200 cougars, put a moratorium on cougars. You can’t shoot a cougar in California even if it carrying off little Fluffy. I know, here in Arkansas we don’t just jump at following California politics, but this is one time we should follow their lead. The Arkansas Game and Fish Commission should put a moratorium on cougars in Arkansas. That is if we want some help in controlling the runaway feral hog problem, the Chronic Wasting Decease (CWD) in deer, which is spreading like wildfire in Northwest Arkansas, and bring back the quail. Introducing predators will help.

Arkansas’s apex predators were eliminated by the Game and Fish Commission starting in the 1920s when they put a $10 bounty on wolves, cougars, and bobcats. The last wolf was killed in 1962 and the cougars were eliminated about the same time. The cougars in our woods today are new comers, and if we want to ever see Arkansas’s ecosystem return to a balance, where we don’t have feral hogs by the millions, a deer herd without chronic wasting disease, have bobwhite quail to hunt, and see a 50% uptick in the wild turkey population (yes feral hogs destroy turkey nests), there is only one way to do it, and that is to protect the predators still here and restock predators into our ecosystem. The United States Wildlife Service has designated parts of the Ozark and Ouachita National Forest as excellent habitat for the restocking of the red wolf, and Game and Fish should be the first in line to restock red wolves. (Contact me for a “Bring back the Wolf” bumper sticker)

            Anyone who looks closely at our broken ecosystem, will understand that our wildlife management mistakes in the early settlement of our state has heavily contributed to the problems we have today. Sure, Game and Fish has been doing a great job in our state; they have restored the deer herd, built hundreds of boat landings, and creating some of the best fishing in the Mid-south. However, today, we have dark shadows over several parts of our game management, and those shadows could eventually destroy our deer herd and shrink our turkey population just as it has disseminated our quail.

We can continue to plod along doing the same wildlife management as we have been doing since the 1920s, or turn the page and follow the example of California by putting a moratorium on apex predators and restocking the red wolf.

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