In Memorium of Maisie - Tia Minnie's Canine Companion

Please accept my deepest most heart-felt condolences. No one can know more than me how deep your loss must be.

My boys are all okay. It's been much too cold and damp here to walk them much but the sunny days are coming. We walk at night then.

I know Maisie was so much more than an animal companion. And I understand your feelings that she cannot be replaced in any way. To me, dogs are as valued as people as they love us more than most people ever would. They love us no matter what. You can't replace that. Just like you can't replace people.

I will always have a dog, tho. But until the very last of my 3 are gone, I won't even think about it. Gomez is going to be 8 on June 16. Viggo will be 6 on March 3. Papi Chulo's age is a mystery. He is the smallest one, the bravest one, the first to sound an alarm. The first that is aware of something not quite right. He sleeps on my head. Gomez sleeps between me and the couch back (I fall asleep watching TV), and Viggo sleeps behind my knees. Our sleep is well-orchestrated and if I turn over, we all turn over. We all wake up at the same time. If I sleep, they sleep. If I eat, they eat. Many a night, they have awoken me when something is in our yard that shouldn't be there, be it oppossum, dog, cat, hawk, or even the mysterious white rabbit that comes thru every few months or so...

I believe Dogs go to heaven. Surely, Maisie is there. Waiting, like they all do for us to come be with them again. They wait paitiently, so there's no need to hurry - hear me? 8-)

I will pray for her tonight and thank her for doing such a good job of loving and caring and guarding and looking out for you. She was a good friend and in my eyes will always be seen as just that - your best friend.

There are plenty of dogs in shelters who would love to have a loving companion like you if you're ever ready for another friend. Don't look at it as replacing Maisie. A person can't have too many friends in their life. Only you know if that time will ever come again. Just know there is a dog that would love to love you.

Please accept my that my heart hurts for you in this time of sorrow. I didn't know this had happened. Please know she will be blessed for having loved you so much.

Life Returns to Normal

I returned from Dallas to the normal events that comprise my life. Med refills. Laundry. Groceries. Bills. Gigs with Havana Daydream. We'll be playing at a benefit called Lobsters of Love for Haiti at Moby Dicks on Tuesday 020910 6ish to 9ish. $20 for a 20 lb lobster dinner. We could use your support as we hope to make this a regular gig and your support helps us to accomplish this. We hope to see you there. Please take care of yourselves and we'll see you further up the road.

My America's Got Talent Adventure Part VI

So, we waited and we waited. People were practicing quite loudly and some would burst into applause. I think the adrenaline and anticipation were taking it's toll on all of us. There people going back upstairs to buy nachos. We were getting up to get little glasses of water. People would go outside to smoke. I saw an Elvia impersonator leaning against the back wall. The 4 year old break dancer was in our group. Nearby, were was a lovely black young lady with her little girl and her mom, there was a young black lady and her guitar waiting with her boyfriend. There was a black young rhythm and blues singing loudly against one wall with young men loudly clapping and showing their support. There were many over-confident people. Over-confident? I don't see how. There were THOUSANDS there. Some are selected because they are so bad - like William Hung. Some are selected for their novelty factor. Some for being young. Some for being old. Some for being weird. I saw no need for over-confidence. I was there to simply do my best and through my luck into God's hands. So, we waited and waited and I was tired and grumpy and sleepy. I wanted a hot meal. Joanne and Alex were the real troopers. Patient and interested in the immense variety of artists.

At some point, staff came in and rearranged the way some of us were sitting. They pulled all the pretty young girls to sit behind another young woman who was dressed like a prostitute. A band-aid of a dress and high heels so high you needed a ladder to climb into them. All the staff seemed to be British. It seemed a rather absurd interview of this young hooker looking young woman, but had to remind myself over and over that this was AGT. The interviewee was rather animated in the interview and the interview lasted about an hour. I was a bit jealous and incredulous until I reminded myself that perhaps the only reason she was interviewed was because she was dressed so provocatively. I thought of Susan Boyle and how she never would have made that interview or even been considered eligible to be a prop behind her.

The pretty young girls positioned as props were growing tired of being props. They, too, were contestants after all. The interviewed a large group of black musicians. One held a Sousaphone. Behind me, they interviewed a middle aged Ecuadorian car salesman. He reminded me of that guitar hawker - Estevan. He was dressed in a suit just like a car salesman and was (to me) pretentious in his speech. "When I sing, I am not an artist. I am a man singing from my soul." Or it was something cheesy and hokey like that. He reminded me of the man in the Dos XX commercial about the most pretentious man in the world.

We waited and waited until finally, they decided were could quit being props. I was in the first group called. 1900 to 1950. They pulled us out to this hall and we waited some more in chairs. I decided it was time to hook up my Honey Tone to my belt and start building my adrenalin. It was cold and it took me a while to tune up. I then set the sound on my Honey Tone (a smaller than a toaster amp) and started my pacing and warming up my voice quietly. While I had blended into the crowd before, now all off a sudden I existed.

They then pulled us into a hall and separated us by singers, singers with pianos, singers with guitars, and dancers. We waited in our line some more.

They wanted some of us to sing "The Heart of Texas". They pulled a few of the more flamboyant ones and ran out. So, I took the opening to say, Hey! I wanna do it! So, they said sure, come on! I walked to the camera and did the one verse I could remember. "The sage in bloom is like perfume - Deep in the Heart of Texas". I was proud of myself for my ballsiness. I hope they include it in the spliced version of the song they air.

They separated the lines. They pulled out the singers with guitars and put us in an another area. They separated us into 5's. Finally, they called us in to audition. It was now about 4pm. 8 hours after we'd arrived.

They lined us up against the back wall. There was a table with 3 judges. Each had a laptop. I guess they taped us in their laptop. We were instructed to stand on the X and give our name, age, place of residence, and song we were doing.

I was first. My luck...well, maybe it was good luck...

I walked to the X. Told them my name and age and told them I lived on an Island in a little town called Port Aransas. My song was Love the One You're With. They said I could start anytime.

So, I went. I sang my heart out standing up. I did my little acoustic rock guitar moves and looked at the judges in the eyes. My 90 seconds just flew by as if it was only 5 seconds. I was done.

Next was a very nice young college student from Fort Worth who played a ukeleli and sang and song my a modern young singer like Feist or someone like that. She sat down and it was nice but not extremely impressive but she did the whole thing and didn't miss notes and remembered all the words.

Next was a young man whose hair I had an almost uncontrollable urge to wash. He was the proverbial hippy. He sang a John Denver tune and played well and had a nice voice.

Next was a the young black woman who sat nearby and played acoustic guitar. She sat and played and sang a song by Alicia Keys. I really liked her voice and the way she did that song. I was really impressed. If I was Simon Cowell, tho, I would say she could've put more feeling into her singing, but, nonetheless, I thought she was great.

She was followed by a 13 year old boy who played guitar and sang. He sat and it was clear he was scared to death. Still it was pretty courageous of a young boy that age to try out for AGT. You have to start sometime and I can only imagine how good he'll be by the time he's 20. He also did well, but could have been a better singer. It had a monotone kind of feel to it. Tho he went all the way, didn't forget the words, and got all the notes.

It was over. They marched us out as I hustled to be sure to tell the Ukelele player and the Alicia Keys girls how much I liked what they did. They were equally kind to me.

We all breathed a deep sigh of relief, said our good-byes, wished each other luck and all went their own way.

I had adrenalin to burn. Grateful we had a ways to walk, we walked thru the huge halls and across buildings to find Joanne's car. We loaded up and decided were wanted hot food and drove out of the parking lot.

What an experience. There is so much talent in Texas. Amazing. Next year? I dunno....

How many times can you do a thing like this?

So, this is the end of My America's Got Talent Adventure Part VI. Unless they call me in March and then I'll have a bunch of new tales to tell. I have as good a shot as anybody there.

Please say a prayer and cross your fingers.

My America's Got Talent Adventure Part V

On October 6, 2009, I received my invitation to audition for Season V of AGT. Because so many people around me acted so weird and unbelieving and over the top one way or the other, I only told my friend, Joanne Klein, a woman I met here on the Island and someone I consider family. She understood about people's reactions and so we kept it quiet. She offered to drive us to Houston where the first email said the auditions would be held. They weren't held in Houston. Something made them change the audition location.

Wednesday, I awoke to find I had no hot water and couldn't shower. I had to boil 2 half filled pots of water and fill them with cold water enuf to leave it hot but not scalding. It felt like it was a bad day. Someone had broken the washer and I was unable to do laundry.

They called last Wednesday afternoon to ask me if I was coming up to Dallas. I had decided not to go back in October because of the crappy job I had working at Bundys with a horrible manager. I decided not to do it because it was too expensive and money was tight as usual. I decided not to do it because it was insane to spend all that money, drive 8 hours each way to Dallas for a 90 second shot at a TV show. But I told Mandy who called that I would be there before I could catch myself.

Luis and Cheryl were with me. I was at Quicksilver Cafe and my friend, Phil, the owner was also there. I couldn't believe I'd said yes. I just had a feeling that I was supposed to say yes and do it this year. It defied logic. It was all based on a feeling. Mandy asked me to pick a day - Saturday or Sunday. I picked Sunday because I figured it was the easiest and maybe as many people wouldn't show on Sunday.

Luis mentioned that he couldn't go because he was filling in for Gerald that Sunday. I'd have to do it alone. I was disappointed, but, not shaken. I knew Luis was disappointed but he always remained positive and encouraging and really great about it even tho he could not go.

I called Joanne to check and see if she could still take me to Dallas. She said oh, yea...she could. She asked if it would be okay for her kids to go and I said that it was. Immediately all my priorities changed.

I caught a ride with Luis home to the RV and took a nap and did my usual Wednesday things. I was overwhelmed. I tried to do laundry, but someone where I live had broken the washer. I couldn't do laundry. I couldn't plan what to wear. It was a cold and nasty day. I was frustrated and went to sleep.

Thursday, I awoke and still felt clean from my boiling water bath Wednesday. It was cold and I was not going to take a bath on such a cold day without hot water. Thursday I decided on my song. The washer was still broken. I had a pile of dirty clothes on my deck. OC came home fixed my hot water Hallelujah. Friday, I had hot water in the morning. It felt good to take a hot shower that day. I went about my usual business. Joanne was busy all those days so we didn't make much contact.

She's a marvel to me and I greatly admire her. She's about 15 years younger than me, but we are alike tempermentally. She has a million things going and is super intelligent. That and she's raising 2 great kids I think of as a niece and nephew.

The washer was still broken so I still didn't know what I was going to wear. I felt like I should be doing more, but couldn't think what I should be doing. I didn't practice. I knew this song backwards, forwards, and upside down.

Saturday, I went to the yellow t-shirt shop on Cotter and decided to buy a Port A t-shirt so that I could "represent". I felt pride in representing our little town and proud that I was the first to do this in Port A. I also picked up a head scarf of jolly rogers and after I bought it realized it was over-kill, but knew I'd wear it later. Joanne picked me up and we went and did laundry at the WishyWashy. Well, it's called the Washtub, but I call it the WishyWashy. After that as done, I was able to decide that I would keep it simple. Black t-shirt, jean skirt, boots, leather jacket. After a half hour, she picked me up and I found Emily couldn't go to do complications in her attendence because of her having the flu earlier in the school year. I was bummed. By 5pm ish, we were on Hwy 36 headed to CC to take Emily to her dad's. After we dropped her off, we decided we were hungry. We found a Chinese Fast Food joint, ordered drive-thru, and off we were to Dallas. We ate as we drove and found we were all really hungry and the food was really good.

We made it up highways familiar to Joanne and the places she grew up. We took little side trips to her previous homes, to Flatonia, Seguin, Halletsville, and took our time. The missions looked beautiful in the moonlight of Goliad. I want to go back there some day soon. We stopped and got more coffee and gas and munchies and discovered a new toll road which allowed us to bypass all of Austin. It was great. The road was ours and we made great time thanks to the toll road. We made it to West TX and had to stop. It's tradition in my life to stop at the Czech Stop and get kolaches, milk, sausage rolls, and all manner of Czech goodness. We had another burst of energy as we drove into the night towards Dallas.

We finally made it to Dallas. We found a hotel room in DeSoto and quickly unloaded only what we needed and watched the Weather Channel. We were glad there was no snow in the forecast and pretty much passed out. I awoke in the middle of the night to find someone had turned off the TV. I awoke shortly before the alarm went off and after I gave myself about 10 minutes to wake up, dyed my hair red. Garnier #56 (Sangria). It makes my hair a very dark red but not clown red. Joanne and Alex got dressed and left me to shower and get dressed. I still hadn't practiced yet.

Now it was Sunday morning. We packed, checked out, I printed out the 12 pages of paperwork I needed to get into the AGT auditions. We drove up I35 to Griffin, were lucky and found a great parking space. We walked what seemed miles to Exibit Room E of the Dallas Convention Center. We found the room. The cops were all very nice and helpful. They seemed even to be having a good time. Easy gig, I guess. We made it to our first table where they asked if I had my completed paperwork. I did. He said Excellent. They gave me a number. We were directed to another table. This was security. We were told we were not to take photos or we would be disqualified.

They inspected all bags. They waved the metallic wand over each of us. Even 9 year old Alex. We took the stairs to another floor and found Exhibit Hall E. We walked a maze and found another line. They were checking for completed paperwork which some people didn't have. I got the guys attention and said I was ready and they pulled us out and took us to a nice guy named Raul at another table. He inspected and approved our paperwork. Joanne and Alex were required to have release forms completed. We were officially in the AGT area at 10am.

We were instructed to find a place to sit and wait for my number to be called. I was number 1948. We looked around and saw a huge hall filled with about 2000 people. Dancers, martial artists, river dancers, cheerleaders, rappers, hip-hoppers, cowboys, hippies, soul singers, Indian dancers, opera singers and they all seems to be making some kind of noise. It was overwhelming. We noticed there were guitar players quietly practicing along the back wall and we decided to pull 3 chairs and lined them up against the back wall. There was a New Yorker sitting on the floor and he was calling it "the Suburbs". It was funny. Later, more people pulled chairs against the back wall as the noise began to just overtake. We got munchies and waited for HOURS. We drank coffee. We saw singers practicing loudly. Getting off to the sound of their own voices in the cavernous hall. They were calling out numbers of 50 at a time to go audition. 1600 to 1650. 1650 to 1700. 1750 to 1800. There was a very loud of Brazilian percussionists practicing loudly as martial artists danced. There young girls in just terrible, ugly costumes. There was a 3-4 year old break dancer. There was a 9 year old looking girl with her sister and her dad waiting by us. People were passing the time texting and doing things (prolly taking pix) with their laptops.

I tried to access wifi from the convention center, but they wanted $20. I decided they could kiss my butt. So, with no signal on my cell phone, and no wifi, I was totally incommunicado.

After a few hours, they told everybody with a 1900 number to go downstairs. That was me. So, we packed everything up, and followed the crowd down the escalator to the first floor again and went into another large room. We found 3 chairs in the front of the room and proceeded to wait for more HOURS.

My America's Got Talent Adventure Part IV

So after the summer of 2008, things got really bad. I wasn't eligible for unemployment. I scraped by somehow. I briefly made a few dollars at a local coffee shop and won't go into that. It was a bad experience. I sang at the Tarpon Ice House for tips. Those customers don't tip. They would rather save their $2 for another beer. The owner of the Tarpon kept assuring me the Winter Texans would come to the Tarpon. I was too naive and stupid to know the Winter Texans don't come to the Tarpon. Many nights I sang for beer. No one can survive on that. It was right by the Roach Motel where I lived at the time so there was a convenience factor. The daytime gigs I was doing came to an end as it was now the slow season. I survived on food from the Presby Church Food Pantry. I was not making it. Somehow, I got lucky and even tho there were no jobs on the Island, I got hired at Whataburger. I no longer had to depend on pennies from the Tarpon Ice House.

Work at Whataburger was brutal, but I got food at half price. We also would eat on the sly. There were discarded pieces of burgers and food that were unservable that I fed to my dogs. I would go by the Stripes before closing and they would give me corn dogs and burritos they were going to throw out and I fed those to my dogs. The work was brutal at Whataburger and they worked me near to death it felt like. My feet everyday felt like they were at risk because of my diabetes.

Even tho I had applied at the Condos since a year before, I always felt like the Manager just didn't like me. They were in a bad place staff-wise and even tho I felt the dislike, she hired me for the graveyard shift thanks to Luis. The details of that job are mine to know and I really don't want to go into how terrible the management and a front desk bimbo were to me, so I will keep those to myself. I had moved from the Roach Motel by then so things seemed to improve just because of that. I had applied for food stamps and medical help from the county and since I onoy worked 24 per week, qualified. T

I discovered the B Bus. One fine February day, I fell on the sidewalk. I messed up my face rather badly. It was one big scab. My arms, hands, and wrists were hurt. My front tooth twisted sideways when I fell on it. I broke my nose even tho the ER people wouldn't xray it, I knew is was broken by my blackened eyes. I was badly hurt and had to cancel a gig. The rest, I did all ugly with my injuries and whispers that I must've been beaten up. My face healed surprisingly fast. I started getting treated more aggressively for my diabetes. I have a nice doctor. He started me back on my anxiety meds. We worked on my diabetes meds.

They employed me from Jan to Aug of 2009. They cut me down to 8 hours per day and I had to find something else or I wouldn't make it. That's how they fire you here in Port A sometimes. The GM and the Manager accused me of stealing computer printer ink! That's how ridiculous and horrible those women are.

I was also working at a restaurant as a hostess part time. I want to keep that to myself also, but I managed to piece together money somehow and survived. When the slow season came in September that disappeared as well.

I applied at a new coffee house and was hired. There were problems with a manager I call the Nazi Troll. I was so stressed out as a result of her mistreatment, I ended up in the ER with serious diabetes problems. They fired me for calling in sick even tho I only missed work because of my 2 ER visits. Besides that, I never called in and was never even late. This time, I qualified for UI Benefits. I worked there from Aug to Oct 2009.

I have been surviving on that. This is where I am today. Surviving the Slow Season til Spring gets here and hopefully Luis and I can get some gigs and I can get a job that pays enuf for me to survive.

Then, sometime in late 2009, I got another letter from AGT.

My America's Got Talent Adventure Part III

A few years went by. I received more emails from AGT but I blew them off. I was barely surviving and fighting depression, diabetes, anxiety, and poverty. I survived temping, worked loser jobs, lived on unemployment. Did what I have to to make it through life.

I started working a paper route in Port Aransas on 121707. I lived in North Beach and worked in Port Aransas. I drove at least 60 miles per day. In May of 2008, I moved to Port A. The summer season of 2008 was my first living on the Island. I barely made it. The Winter Texans were gone and partying teenagers don't buy newspapers. My newspaper earnings dropped seriously. I got by on gigs at restaurants. Doing the route overnight and doing gigs during the day was killing me. My diabetes ridden body couldn't handle the physical requirements or the need for strength I needed to do both. Then my car broke and it was something expensive I couldn't afford to fix. I lost my paper route. I took cabs to my gigs that I was surviving on.

I was living in what I call the Roach Motel. A way too small ugly shack on Oleander which couldn't hold all my belongings. When Ike was heading straight for Port A, I discarded 60% of my stuff. I borrowed my brother in law's car and put in what I could not live without in it (gear, pets, some clothes, paperwork, computers, and other stuff). I threw away all that I could that stood in my way of packing the car. I left behind what I had to packed in randomness in Rubbermaid plastic tubs. I duct taped them shut as best I could and evacuated to my sister's in CC.

As I drove on roads almost over-run by the sea, they played Blue October's "I Want to Swim Away". North Beach was almost all already underwater as I drove by on Hwy 181.

When I returned from evac-ing, I was surprised to see how much stuff was still in the Roach Motel. Everything was in terrible disarray from my panicked packing. It didn't even rain here. Not that I'm complaining, but I couldn't saved myself so much anguish.

There were too many big problems living in the Roach Motel to go into here. It was clear to me, I had to move. So, I found my current home and have been here since Jan 2009.

I still have too much stuff for where I live, but I have taken more time in clearing the useless belongings. I am almost to the point where I feel comfortable with what I have decided to keep. I have too many clothes. But, I need a lot of clothes. I need office clothes, stage clothes, run-around clothes, work in restaurant clothes, and clothes that fit. I lost 60 lbs and my weight has vacillated to where I am having trouble determining what goes and what stays. But, that's my problem to deal with.

Anyway, I got another AGT email inviting me to compete in 2009. Luis and I had been working off and on as a result of circumstances surrounding him and his band, Triggerfish. Those band details are not mine to discuss so I will let those be. But we decided to get our music taped and to enter AGT. Both of us were struggling with money at the time, so we decided to fore-go the trip to Dallas to audition and rather to enter online. Edith Bujnoch, Joanne's mom, a retired home-ec teacher was kind enough to offer to film us with her digi-cam. Of all the musicians we know, of all our friends, she came through for us. We had a gig at Beach and Station St Grill on a Sunday morning and she came and patiently, generously, kindly taped 4 songs for us. We taped Love the One You're With, In the Summertime, Baby I Love Your Way, and Baker Street. It was fun and relaxed. By myself, I taped Cry Me a River.

It was an impossibly sunny, hot, windy day. You can hear the sea-birds and hear the wind. People would walk by. People were talking. Buck walked in front of the camera with his surfboard. I kind of rather like that he did that. It was cute and spontaneous and unexpected. I was happy for having done it. Finally, there was something to post on YouTube.

We Fed Ex-ed the paperwork to AGT. We uploaded the vids to YouTube. We uploaded the vids to the AGT website. I wasn't on Facebook yet so didn't mess with that. We linked to YouTube where we could. I sent an email letting everybody I knew that we were on YouTube. I asked for a critique. I got what I expected even tho I explained that we did it all ourselves and none of us were professional videographers. The sound was not great. It was too windy. We didn't sound check the video before taping. We taped in front of an obnoxiously yellow painted wall. I hated that color but didn't have a choice in that matter. There were all sorts of things we learned after doing the video, but I am proud that we did it despite our limitations. We just made it happen. We owe Edith Bujnoch so much for helping us.

So, it was out and we were entered in AGT. People actually looked at it. AGT became my YouTube friend.

Luis and I worked at the same Condos. He worked the shift before mine. When we changed shifts, we'd check out stats on YouTube and Google ourselves. We'd giggle that the video was watched in the Phillipines, England, Mexico, Turkey, and we were mentioned as contenders on AGT on Beyonce's website. It was all too cool.

For a person who had scoffed (that's you Luis) that he had been a professional musician all his life and been with a successful working band for 14 years, and now he had been reduced to doing a talent show, he was having fun with this. For me, it's all about enjoying what you do and having fun with it. We never got called. We never made the show, but we had fun and got just a tad experience with the whole YouTube thing. We saw what it could do.

On the negative side, I learned you can't tell everybody about these AGT type things. Some people just over reacted. One of the Managers angrily told people who were reacting positively to our stuff to not encourage us. People who I thought were friends made faces to mock the fact that we could do this. People just way over-reacted. Some hurt my feelings. Some made me angry. Some disappointed me. And I learned to keep my mouth shut.

I was happy about the vid. We did it without professional equipment. There are people who don't understand that. Maybe they don't want to. I just don't care.

Anyway, I was grateful to AGT for providing the impetus to get us to do something. Anything. I was excited again after some serious depression and anxiety. I started to get treated for diabetes again. I was still throwing stuff away that I didn't need. I started discarding people who were hurtful and toxic. Overall, slowly, there was a glimpse of hope for the future.

My America's Got Talent Adventure Part II

Sometime between receiving the email and being pre-registered. I had a gig at a local venue. I will call it The Venue because it's been a few years and I would like for my duo, Havana Daydream, to play there. We showed "The Manager" our picture and she didn't recognize me so those folks will remain nameless so that maybe we can play there again. If I name them, some butt-head will surely walk up to them and spill the beans and I will have to go postal.

Anyway, I googled AGT to see just what I was getting into. Potential contenders were posting blogs and stuff on their web-site. There were animal acts, contortionists, mimes, you know, all the weird strange acts you can possibly imagine.

Let's put it this way. Jerry Spring (who I admire, by the way) was the host for the first few years.

I found one act I found amusing. Boobzilla. It seemed she did tricks with...wait for it....her boobs. I was never quite sure what manner of tricks these were. She mentioned she had done her act in a room for Jerry Springer. I saw her picture. She was ... um... er... gifted as in well-endowed.

I had a gig at the Venue. I mentioned I was auditioning for the show and I used it as stage patter. Just something to talk about between songs. I mentioned Boobzilla and her story.

Everyone laughed. I never cussed or spoke in a manner that would be censored on TV. Clean language and descriptions.

Next thing I know a few songs later, the Manager came up and told me to turn off my mic. I did. Quite perplexed as to why I would be rudely told to do this. She gritted her teeth and told me she had had a complaint. That I had offended a customer with a little girl. I asked what it was I said. She repeated a lurid story of Boobzilla "doing" Jerry Springer in a room. That was something I had never said! She then red-faced and frizzy, bleached, clown-hair flying in the sea breeze commanded me to just sing and not talk at all.

I could see the nearby customers jaws hit the floor. I felt like I'd been belted. So, I did as I was told. Customers came up and put big tips in my jar and told me they knew what was going on and bestowed me with apologies. I completed my gig and the remaining customers and I made light of what happened but I was deeply affected.

Later that week, I called to rebook some gigs. A different manager came on the phone and told me my name was on the roster. Unbooked. And the word OBSCENE written by it with a command to not rebook.

I called again and spoke to the original manager after getting the runaround several days and she stood by her story and I was never booked there again.

Punished for something I didn't do. And it's been that way for years until Luis and I reapplied with a photo and she didn't even recognize me. So, we'll see what happens.

How It Started - My Americas's Got Talent Adventure I

I think it was 2005 when I received an email from America's Got Talent Sharon Nash inviting me to audition for the show's first season. How they got my name and email address, I don't know. I figure it may have been from somewhere I worked in Dallas or the Internet. I was working at Texas A&M Corpus Christi and that was a stormy employment relationship. I was not happy there so the temptation to go to Dallas was overpowering. I mentioned the email to my co-workers when I got it and they gave me a "yea right" look. This amused me because it was typical of the response I got from most people whereever I happened to have a day job.

I responded to the email and chose my preferred day to audition. At that time, we were able to make an appointment with a specific audition time. It was great because I would not have to stand outside waiting with those responding to the "cattle call".

My car needed repair. A radiator, I believe. If I fixed the car I would have no money to drive or fly there. Lack of money when I need money is a prevalent on-going theme in my life. After mentioning in a mass email to my joke receiving friends, a dear friend in Dallas came through. He works for American Airlines and magically managed to get me passage on stand-by. I arranged for some PTO, completed all the required paperwork for the show, arranged to stay with my friend Robert Hutchens in Oak Lawn, chose a song, packed, and my friend Jenny, neighbor and friend from North Beach drove me to the CC Airport. We got lost. After finding our way, she dropped me off. I was on time but there was an issue with the plane so I would have to wait for the next flight along with a whole class of students who were flying up to the Metroplex to compete in an event I cannot recall. We waited for some hours and finally we were all able to board. We flew direct so the flight lasted probably no more than an hour. When we arrived, I took a cab (can you say $70) to Oak Lawn Dallas, stopping to shop for a few things at a neighborhood convenience store I used to frequent when I lived there. It was owned by a very nice family from Nepal and it was great to see them. They asked about Gomez, one of my chihuahuas who used to come with me on my little shopping trips. They would dote on him whenever they saw him.

I made my way to Robert's place. He was at work. So after I found the hidden key, I made a bed for myself on the couch and slept as best I could as my mind was racing and my internal dialog would not stop. At some point, Robert came home, I met his friend Chris who was visiting from St. Louis, briefly said our hellos and he and Chris left me to cut some zzz's and went to his room to sleep and I dropped off again.

It seemed like a moment before it was time to wake. I got up, showered, dressed, put on a face and after Robert and Chris got ready, they drove me to the Hilton in North Dallas for the audition.

I chose Cucurrucucu, an old Mexican song, as my song to audition. I thought that being full of passion it would go beyond language barriers and since it required much skill to sing convincingly, would set me apart. The song is of lost love. A man loses his woman to death and he can't sleep, can't eat, and drinks endlessly. Every time he hears the coo-ing of a dove, he believes it's his lost love calling after him. It's a beautiful song I've loved since childhood.

I exited the car and in a tired daze walked to the Hotel entrance where there were about 25 people milling about. I was asked by someone with a badge if I had my paperwork and I said yes. They escorted me in and I found myself before another table. I presented my ID and my paperwork which was inspected and approved. I was told to take the stairs to the second floor and was told where the vocalist auditions were held. I hate stairs. I was met by Nigel at the foot of the stairs. I shyly said hello as I recognized him as Simon Cowell's business partner. I did take the time to notice what a tall and handsome guy he was. I slowly made my way up the stairs and made my way to my area. We sat in chairs lined up by the outside wall and all of us were quietly singing to ourselves and primping. We had 90 seconds to prove we were worthy.

One by one we were called in. I looked across the huge second floor as I waited my turn. I saw belly dancers, flying acrobats, River dancers, tap dancers, ballet dancers, jugglers, cheerleaders, and other choreographed dancers. I looked across the other direction to see what seemed like way too many people with guitars. They, too, strummed quietly and practiced with their singers.

Finally, it was my turn. I entered the audition room and stood on an X before a table of 3 judges and a large TV camera. The process was explained to me and I told them my age, name, residence city, and name of my song. I was told to start and I did my song for 90 seconds. I did okay. I hit all my notes and remembered all the words and sang a capella. Sharon Nash asked me what "Cucurrucucu" meant and I explained about the man who lost his lover and the sound the dove makes in Spanish. I never knew doves spoke English and Spanish. I was thanked and told I would be notified in 2 months if I made it to the show.

As I walked down the stairs to leave, I was stopped by Nigel. He asked if I was the one who sang in Spanish and I quietly admitted, that yes, I was. He then said they wanted to hear more. I was kind of stunned at this point. He guided me to another huge room filled with cameras and another large group of artists. I stood where they told me and watched a whip-cracker who used a whip to cut paper into increasingly smaller squares. Then he used 2 whips. He did all kinds of "tricks" with his whips and I wondered what chance I had competing with that. I then met a comic who claimed he was Carlos Mencia's cousin. I guess he could be, but how would I ever know?

I was directed to stand on another X in front of another big camera and did my song again. Again, no missed notes or forgotten lyrics. But I remembered I closed my eyes as I sang in some parts. It's a bad habit. I was thanked and this time, was told I would hear in a month and a half if I made it. I smiled and thanked them for the opportunity and walked outside to an even bigger awaiting crowd. More strange and diverse acts were gathered. These were people who hadn't completed their paperwork or were making calls or who know's what.

I called Robert who quickly picked me up. We ate Chinese food at a new place on Lemmon Avenue. We gossiped and caught up and before long it was time to go to the Airport. He dropped me off as I recalled the events of the last two days and pondered what would become of my job where it seemed they were just looking for reasons to hate me. This was the beginning of every job that's gone wrong in the Coastal Bend for me.

When I arrived in CC, dazed from the events of the trip, I took a taxi to work where I figured I could take a bus home. My boss, Mario Montelongo was stunned to see me and said I had to leave. I didn't understand why. He said they had sent me a letter telling me I was on administrative leave as they were investigating my job performance. I was stunned. I am a picky, skilled, overachiever who had taught HIM many computer skills he was lacking. I called my friend Marty to see if he could pick me up. (Marty was later murdered that year.) He picked me up and I told him all about my trip as we made our way to North Beach where we were neighbors.

While I was on administrative leave, I had my car repaired. It was cheaper than I thought it would be. I was later fired from A&M CC for no reason. They denied my application for Unemployment Benefits. I appealed and won. And with the back-benefits I was paid, bought the computer I am typing this blog on.

And that's how I started my America's Got Talent Adventure.

Message in a bottle: Romance or rubbish?

By Michael Cary
Manuel Janchezan wrote a message in broken Spanish, stuffed it into a bottle, and set it adrift in the Gulf of México.
"I am lost at sea. I am a fisherman on the ship Norvis Beatris. I am going to the Port of Sabancuy, Campeche. I am about to die. I have been lost for 12 days. Adios."
Whether Janchezan was really lost at sea or whether he was playing a joke has never been documented.
But his message was received when it landed on the beach at Matagorda Island.
It was found and translated by employees of the U.S. Fish & Wildlife Service, the caretakers of the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge.
Matagorda Island is one of the barrier islands that protect the Texas coastline, with 38 miles of beach and bayside marshes, jointly owned by the Texas General Land Office and the U.S. government, preserved as a major wildlife management area, and winter home to the endangered whooping crane population.
It also collects mountains of trash floating in from the Gulf.
Among that trash occasionally floats a message in a bottle, frequently found by volunteers who perform turtle patrols along the beach.
Janchezan's eery message about being lost at sea was likely taken seriously by the U.S. Coast Guard when it was found on the beach on Aug. 24, 1996, but Tonya Nix, environmental education specialist with the U.S Fish & Wildlife Service, has no knowledge that anyone found him and returned him safely to shore or left him committed to the deep in the Gulf of México.
"If there is a cry for help we treat it as such, we would contact the Coast Guard, but that's the only one I've ever seen," said Nix, whose tenure at the refuge began after the message was discovered.
And, she said, putting a message in a bottle would be a desperate final act for someone who was actually lost at sea.
"That would be something to do if there were no other options," Nix said.
Messages in a bottle, romanticized over the centuries and put into song by The Police on their second album in 1979, have been discovered several times over the years on Matagorda Island.
"Most of them come from cruise ships," Nix explained.
One such message was much more upbeat.
"Dear Finder, you have just found a drift bottle," wrote a Kansas fifth grader, Maggie, who was on the Norwegian Sun on March 24, 2007, when she dropped a bottle into the sea.
"I hope you can read English. My name is Maggie and I'm 11 years old and in the 5th grade," she printed.
Maggie included her email address on Norwegian Cruise Line stationery and requested an answer to her message, which was found on the island later that summer.
"Please tell me your age, grade and when and where you found this. Please also tell me the city and country you live in," Maggie wrote in legible print. "P.S. I hope you have a computer."
"Hay, I'm working onboard a Norwegian Chemical tanker (Trans Scandie). Last port was Varna, Bulgaria, next port is New Orleans, write me some words," penned Anders Jan Kyoennoe, from his position at sea on June 11, 1999 somewhere between Key West and Cuba.
His message was found on Matagorda Island – it included a line drawing of a man with spiked hair, stubble and a cigarette in his mouth.
Some messages in a bottle could have a nearer point of origin, such as from a shrimp trawler that might be cruising parallel to the beach in the summertime.
"The shrimp god is being summoned. If anybody finds this before the shrimp god does, please send it back on its merry way. Good luck to all shrimpers, and God bless us all. P.S., tell Hope Bowen I love her," wrote an unkown author, who could have been working on a shrimp boat out of a nearby harbor.
Nix said that when she taught aquatics science at Austwell and Tivoli ISD near the Aransas National Wildlife Refuge, one of her student groups laid hands on a message in a bottle that had floated ashore.
"Some sailors had bet $100 on where the bottle would go, and the girls got excited, and the boat was at least 160 miles offshore," Nix said.
The students wrote back to the sailor, seeking to take him up on his promise of half the $100 if they would answer. The girls answered the letter but there was no reward forthcoming.
"James Mishelek owes $50 to the junior and senior class (of 2005) at Austwell-Tivoli High School," Nix said.
Another message in a bottle, found on Matagorda Island in June 1994, was considered by the examiner as containing "a most curious note.
"It begins in English and then lapses into a Philippine dialect called Tagalog. We had to have intelligence experts translate the last half of the message," wrote the person who cataloged the discovery for viewers at the refuge's visitor center.
"Darling Mommy, how are you now? I hope that you are not worried now ... Mommy I still love you," the message reads in English.
"Ang gusto ko lang sana na ikaw pa-ang lana na kanilala ko noon," it continues in Tagalog.
Translation: "I just want you to be the Lana (mother) I knew before."
The message was not signed, and therefore was not answered.
U.S. Fish & Wildlife agents Nix and a colleague, Amanda McLaughlin, however, have answered some of the messages in a bottle.
"I answered one letter, and it's beautiful what he sent me back," McLaughlin said without elaborating on her correspondence.
"You can't read them all the time. Some of them are just poems. Most people throw them off the side of the boat to see if someone finds them," McLaughlin explained.
One message that McLaughlin answered was dropped into the water by Jutta Schumann of Lemwerder, Germany. She had accompanied her husband, Hans, who captained a container ship from Europe to Miami, Houston, New Orleans and Veracruz, México.
"Today this bottle was thrown into the water, June 30, 1994, near New Orleans. I am the wife of the captain of the ship and enjoyed the trip to USA (and) México. Soon we will be in Europe. Good luck to you, Jutta Schumann. Please write to me and tell me where you found it," she wrote.
Once she received a letter from McLaughlin regarding her message in a bottle, found on Matagorda Island, Jutta responded with a three page letter dated Aug. 19, 2005 in Lemwerder.
"Your answer was the 43rd and was found after 11 years. She was the longest in the water. Before (that) one was found in France five years after sending. I got all kinds of letters, even one from a young man in Taiwan and he wrote in Chinese characters," Jutta wrote to McLaughlin.
Jutta revealed in her letter that her husband was retired and the couple (ages 67 and 65) "live in a small house near the city of Bremen in Northern Germany known for bad and rainy weather in the winter."
Her husband had settled into a hobby of building model whaling ships, but they retained an interest in "things around the world."
Jutta included a photograph of herself and Hans at their home in Germany.
"I would love to hear from you and about your work. I can see you – or some of you – going onto a beach and walking along the beach at Matagorda Island which is totally quiet and only sea turtles come ashore and I hope not so much junk and trash from ships (I feel bad about my bottle)," Jutta wrote, after consulting a map to locate the Texas barrier island.
Ryan Fisher was a 22-year-old, single, Austin resident who worked for Dell Computers when he penned a message and set it out to sea on April 26, 2000, while he was on a deep-sea fishing trip.
Obviously, he wasn't thinking that he was about to pollute one of the Gulf of México's more pristine barrier islands when he listed a couple of return email addresses and wrote a brief description about himself.
"I'm a very nice person. I think I'm a good human."
More likely, when Fisher launched his message in a bottle, using a method of communicating as random as waves on the sea, he was just trying to get a date.
Messages in a bottle are periodically found on the practically deserted beaches on Matagorda Island. Many of them are retrieved by volunteer turtle patrols that discover them among the other flotsam that washes ashore.
Some might consider messages in a bottle a romantic method for communicating with strangers across the seas, and others might consider them part of the heaps of trash that frequently pollute the beaches along the coastline.
"The bottle you have found is one of a wide row of bottles which I cast into the sea during the last several years," wrote Krzysztof Podgorniak, a 33-year-old Polish officer aboard the Philine Schulte, which sailed under the Isle of Man flag from Cartagena, Colombia to Houston.
"These bottles are my own way, how I try to find the ways of old seafarer's mail system. I will be very glad, if you can send me a letter or postcard only with number bottle, place, and date where you discovered it," wrote Podgorniak on a sheet of paper.
He listed his home address in Olsztyn, Poland. The bottle was found on Matagorda Island on April 20, 2005. The bottle was numbered 169-01-04-PHS, suggesting that the Polish sailor did not consider the impact of his chosen way of coping with the tedium of shipboard life.
"The bottles are considered beach debris," Nix acknowledged, but she also concedes that the idea of a message in a bottle conjures mysterious and romantic notions, much like the words "I'm sending out an S.O.S.," as sung by Sting of The Police, in 1979.
A legendary seafarer's mail system, or just more litter on the beach?

Article originally published in the Aransas Pass Progress and the Ingleside Index

Who is banning the books?

Government agencies, to name a few.

U.S. Bureau of Customs
U.S. Food and Drug Administration
U.S. Immigration and Naturalization Service
U.S. Information Agency (USIA)
U.S. Justice Department
U.S. Postal Service
U.S. Treasury Department

click on the link to see a list of more book banners.

Gorilla celebrates holidays with Wellman family

By Michael Cary
A thousand pound gorilla takes up residence in your front yard.
What are you going to do about it?
Dress him up as Cupid on Valentine's Day.
In the springtime, paint him pink and hide Easter eggs under his nose.
During high school football season, guess who's a sidelines cheerleader?
A thousand pound gorilla in your yard can turn some heads as a Thanksgiving turkey, or with a large red Christmas bow on his hat.
The question remains, just how did that gorilla find a home in your front yard?
"It all started when I wouldn't tell my husband what I wanted for my birthday," explains Marsha Wellman, an Aransas Pass transplant (15 years ago) from Bryan/College Station (Texas).
"My husband said 'be careful what you ask for,'" Wellman said, regarding the 1,100-pound concrete gorilla that sits in her front yard on Saunders Street.
The gorilla, a product of a statuary company in Taft, required a forklift to take him off the truck when Gerald Wellman brought it home for his wife's birthday in 2002.
Since then, the Wellmans and their neighbors have enjoyed dressing him up for special occasions – he has his own boat and welcomes friends who come to town for fishing trips.
"We both work on his outfits," Marsha said. "And my neighbor, Hope Dávila, is the one who dressed him up as a Panthers cheerleader.
"We do something patriotic in July, one year he was Uncle Sam, and during Easter he is a pink bunny almost every time," she said.
It has gotten to the point that people stop by to take photos with the gorilla, and neighbors ask why he's not dressed up when the Wellmans forget a holiday.
The gorilla, which still has no name, is a welcome addition to grandma and grandpa's yard for Abby Krisl, who lives in Aransas Pass, and John Wellman, who visits occasionally from Katy.
"We dressed him up one year for Shrimporee, and Gerald and I cooked shrimp for our friends," Marsha said.
"He had on an apron and carried a shrimp net, but he wasn't in the parade, he's too heavy," she said.
Currently, the thousand-pound gorilla is painted snow white, wears a pilgrim's hat (his Thanksgiving turkey feathers are now stored in the garage), a large red bow, a muffler around his neck, and he is spending the Christmas holiday as Frosty the Snowman, complete with charcoal eyes and a carrot nose.
"When it snowed in 2004, he was a reindeer. He looked wonderful," Marsha said.
The gorilla is a reminder of where the Wellmans came from. They frequently traveled through La Grange near Bryan/College Station, and frequently saw a large concrete gorilla in a yard in that town.
But the inspiration came to Gerald when his wife wouldn't tell him what she wanted for her birthday.
"Now there's a list every year," Marsha said.