tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16381725592511162442024-03-12T18:29:15.687-05:00The World According To GupTracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.comBlogger65125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-22274484658134855642010-03-22T17:43:00.015-05:002010-03-22T21:05:29.125-05:00Little Sister Reaches Half-Century Mark<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIKS2dS6tNJHGSONKdiP48fEL133PxmCnpPs7uIBIsRzlNed31dD-RHU790Ucl8X4btYQrop1sfOtdAsOi1BNfy1LU1ZOw0VfARobVbeqnaQ1P2PsFUfgFcqaiOS9ftUtJoyBKjNWh1Th/s1600-h/Kelly's+Klan.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 283px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451644519160670226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVIKS2dS6tNJHGSONKdiP48fEL133PxmCnpPs7uIBIsRzlNed31dD-RHU790Ucl8X4btYQrop1sfOtdAsOi1BNfy1LU1ZOw0VfARobVbeqnaQ1P2PsFUfgFcqaiOS9ftUtJoyBKjNWh1Th/s400/Kelly's+Klan.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMdS4-Q9UjWzNKEy1MaRClKks3z0n3axWF-8LhnH8p6_ODVbpecDo-xW6MQAN2q_sO3GZvWbb34cunqBWn-DjgkJ2dqanKnoRKEUwVNKZzqgT_lDFTVhYvD41HvfXidhbv4DdA-s8ajxc/s1600-h/At+Wedding.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451644337007215218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFMdS4-Q9UjWzNKEy1MaRClKks3z0n3axWF-8LhnH8p6_ODVbpecDo-xW6MQAN2q_sO3GZvWbb34cunqBWn-DjgkJ2dqanKnoRKEUwVNKZzqgT_lDFTVhYvD41HvfXidhbv4DdA-s8ajxc/s400/At+Wedding.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnV_D_5lVD6ah_m3x8dbcuipaMk_WXBjRChmFjW3xnXVo0B2GRmOCmeHbPJQaTwATkiJcRlVFYsqQHlQFLISeZqATtsK9VZMNCb0fTqH6QnR-ww41ZiuzaL9Pl5YrW08ThDiix1t0fGLw/s1600-h/In+Huntsville.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 301px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451614622911263186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZnV_D_5lVD6ah_m3x8dbcuipaMk_WXBjRChmFjW3xnXVo0B2GRmOCmeHbPJQaTwATkiJcRlVFYsqQHlQFLISeZqATtsK9VZMNCb0fTqH6QnR-ww41ZiuzaL9Pl5YrW08ThDiix1t0fGLw/s400/In+Huntsville.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYAosK46jG9xDI20fD3PEtvktchZ6C4yee_qJsiajhQK2ca2WoTNsSL5Th_GMBSVihVIxsKjopVW0qm_EUKY0em5oknkTXl406NM9YnN-0dg5IByTaseD2sZA_ihXRxGfVTomzEHc4ul1/s1600-h/Kelli+in+school.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 315px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451610505968861858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQYAosK46jG9xDI20fD3PEtvktchZ6C4yee_qJsiajhQK2ca2WoTNsSL5Th_GMBSVihVIxsKjopVW0qm_EUKY0em5oknkTXl406NM9YnN-0dg5IByTaseD2sZA_ihXRxGfVTomzEHc4ul1/s400/Kelli+in+school.jpg" /></a>
<div></div>Things were rolling along without a hitch, if my memory is correct, back in the old days of my youth. Back when Mama was the only female around our house in Markham, Texas. Me and Cody and Daddy ruled the roost, or at least that was the way it seemed, until my Mama's belly started getting real big in late 1959. Daddy took her off to the hospital in the third month of 1960, and they came back home on March 22nd with a brand new baby girl. And let me tell you, folks, things haven't been the same since. When Kelly Renee Gupton made her entrance into the world, the lives of Cody and Tracy Gupton changed drastically. All of a sudden there was this new little baby girl getting the majority of our Mama's attention around the old homestead. She meant the world to all of us, though, and in reflecting on the past half century today, on my little sister's 50th birthday, all I can say is that I love her very much and wish "Bee" the happiest of birthdays on her special day! When Kelly was a little girl she had a little trouble forming the words she wanted to say and often struggled to pronounce her r's and l's. They all came out w's, until she eventually conquered that speech impediment. But memories persist, especially in the minds of her two older brothers who were there sharing the same house with her during all of our early years. Kelly would refer to herself as "Bee," failing to say the word "me" like she intended. We all got a kick out of her saying, "That's Bee's doll," or "Weave Bee awone." So if anyone hears me referring to my little sister as "Bee," now you know why! Stories about our upbringing in both Markham and West Columbia are many and all very entertaining, especially when told by our big brother Cody. Ol' Cody just has a way with a story that I am unable to equal. I could fill reams of papers writing about my siblings and the wonderful times we all had growing up together. But, for brevity's sake, I will simply display a few old photographs in this little tribute to my sister Kelli (who dropped the "y" from the end of her first name when she was in high school and started spelling it with an "i" instead) and send along my best birthday wishes to "Bee" as she reaches yet another wonderful milestone in her remarkable life. I love you, kid!
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgwXy0kIX8bn-oA9P1hr3s2LZd-eQwxmTSUzC0Z9KRueq4Hb8k3gqm7U2apNILKlY0EjcKXCO-m8sZKDlmKhQiQW46vwM54GMRL3DDjqs5fYxLzBipjQcflyBsEZ2uv-Uf5IeSfoNdetNA/s1600-h/Kuban+Family.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451610034272363826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgwXy0kIX8bn-oA9P1hr3s2LZd-eQwxmTSUzC0Z9KRueq4Hb8k3gqm7U2apNILKlY0EjcKXCO-m8sZKDlmKhQiQW46vwM54GMRL3DDjqs5fYxLzBipjQcflyBsEZ2uv-Uf5IeSfoNdetNA/s400/Kuban+Family.jpg" /></a>
<div>The mother of the baby in the photo below, Amanda Kuban Medve, is pictured above in a Kuban family photo I took many years ago. Kelli and Chris Kuban are shown with Amanda and Natalie, before their youngest child Tommy was born.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemJMbO45iB3K29EkPfOB16BGJIVf1v-8Vtt9gaKIvLx9TC_l8yGJXi6VVZCwCY9Xlie7v5c7cIHXnidqklPav42Qe3NBQsB9WeRkKinJneCPVILEz2Cu801A8UxeMFak7RNTvbSsOSn8e/s1600-h/Kelli+%26+grandchild.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 299px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451609115723552018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgemJMbO45iB3K29EkPfOB16BGJIVf1v-8Vtt9gaKIvLx9TC_l8yGJXi6VVZCwCY9Xlie7v5c7cIHXnidqklPav42Qe3NBQsB9WeRkKinJneCPVILEz2Cu801A8UxeMFak7RNTvbSsOSn8e/s400/Kelli+%26+grandchild.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKkKKib-ThHW2eDtZNiop2RxjIVPF3hSv0Waa-UYShr-3hBPokNKtS9PUbq942R8gx6LMm0jW1S3AWjebE0l0ICaSN90u8el6-u7fZuX24R-DJv96BmWqObMBrYdZesmIPSl0gVaCUiMu/s1600-h/Kelly+2+weeks.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 378px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451608866475566082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSKkKKib-ThHW2eDtZNiop2RxjIVPF3hSv0Waa-UYShr-3hBPokNKtS9PUbq942R8gx6LMm0jW1S3AWjebE0l0ICaSN90u8el6-u7fZuX24R-DJv96BmWqObMBrYdZesmIPSl0gVaCUiMu/s400/Kelly+2+weeks.jpg" /></a>
<div>As she celebrates her 50th birthday today, March 22, 2010, our baby sister has gone from being the coddled infant she was in the photo above, where our big brother Cody, left, and I show how overjoyed we both were when our parents brought Kelly Renee home from the hospital. The big smiles on our little faces were true barometers of just how excited we were. Hey, our toys were getting kind of boring. We needed something new to play with. And now, 50 years later, Kelli is a grandmother herself. In the photo above Kelli and her daughter Natalie show off newborn Madelyn Reese, the daughter of Kelli's husband Chris Kuban's daughter from a previous marriage, Amanda and her husband Cody.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPaBFzTMRcu7jHzWh0-0qQEUPodN5p6n1TKEJeWVqvGQERPqjy65eT552A1kwfW-M4OTZBbC7_48EMdShMXi8C4tnrybjNPPBhTTNn4mnl86rLzyzW_ujoDZ-7gp7lK8hDfUVA7Zf_UDf/s1600-h/Bee+Gupton.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 360px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451605960381186018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdPaBFzTMRcu7jHzWh0-0qQEUPodN5p6n1TKEJeWVqvGQERPqjy65eT552A1kwfW-M4OTZBbC7_48EMdShMXi8C4tnrybjNPPBhTTNn4mnl86rLzyzW_ujoDZ-7gp7lK8hDfUVA7Zf_UDf/s400/Bee+Gupton.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mpmZ7lUTGBvClB4QnKKjpAtgd4Z4GHgmlX2MRVucEae7BKEQh4SPi9ZMhMJcmp60Z3nxNilTPoL4qU-wSYTtLr_RTLSI8aCTIQVNdJQYrQjl8BEN-5kb-kH6LyUUrykUYOZ2WS4qzLv0/s1600-h/Stuffed+Pets.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 364px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451605748286323218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8mpmZ7lUTGBvClB4QnKKjpAtgd4Z4GHgmlX2MRVucEae7BKEQh4SPi9ZMhMJcmp60Z3nxNilTPoL4qU-wSYTtLr_RTLSI8aCTIQVNdJQYrQjl8BEN-5kb-kH6LyUUrykUYOZ2WS4qzLv0/s400/Stuffed+Pets.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_CgYx3mOxHPhEw2L_5gYU_nckGB1EHGGzAa_AB7vBN8QT6FFopwdBaAx1QlQUiwNQwHwroK7R4TvNSa_A0d1CiSz5B4hMgw8C8COvITLaQreaixR9qnG2QH_LUSSrCMzbA8YcRPOpiEE/s1600-h/Bee+With+Daddy.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 364px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451605496788962434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ_CgYx3mOxHPhEw2L_5gYU_nckGB1EHGGzAa_AB7vBN8QT6FFopwdBaAx1QlQUiwNQwHwroK7R4TvNSa_A0d1CiSz5B4hMgw8C8COvITLaQreaixR9qnG2QH_LUSSrCMzbA8YcRPOpiEE/s400/Bee+With+Daddy.jpg" /></a>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqPeoqa6kak1CSZe3mHryeiKBZJTAPhg2N69VdUES7U7ILGKoXZ06ezFCpj4raBEJQiGOOiK848Y0s2RWQu-3WDRngS0RuCCZM9-IPgwkgpjAv6sohYEk686UY9gW77a1mwaSPccKoQZA/s1600-h/Tippy-Toes.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 276px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451605008414328642" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLqPeoqa6kak1CSZe3mHryeiKBZJTAPhg2N69VdUES7U7ILGKoXZ06ezFCpj4raBEJQiGOOiK848Y0s2RWQu-3WDRngS0RuCCZM9-IPgwkgpjAv6sohYEk686UY9gW77a1mwaSPccKoQZA/s400/Tippy-Toes.jpg" /></a>
<div>The black-and-white photos above were all taken by my mother, Verna Gupton, with her Kodak Brownie Hawkeye camera (which I still have on the top shelf in my home office as a tribute to Mama's love of photography). I hope Kelli is not too embarrassed by this display of memories from her early childhood. It boggles my mind that these pictures were taken nearly 50 years ago. The top photo is of a very young Kelly Renee, sporting cowboy boots and her beloved doll and doll carriage. That's me in the next picture, straddling one of my sister's big stuffed animals, in the living room of our Markham home while Kelli shows off her Toni home permanent and cute curls. I was pretty cute too, huh? In the next photo Kelli opens one of her Christmas gifts while our daddy squats beside her. That photo and the one below it were taken during our first year living in our new brick home in West Columbia in 1962. And in the bottom photo the Gupton kids are all dressed up in their Sunday best. Mama posed us in front of the fancy bookcase in the living room of our brand new home. We moved from Markham to West Columbia in 1962 and I started the first grade the following year at West Columbia Elementary School. Kelli was the first of Rex and Verna's children to attend kindergarten classes. Our big brother Cody is pouting for some reason in this group shot. He was probably mad because Mama was making him go to Sunday school. Oh, those were the good old days!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEfYcIrtpPHuEaUiFXCpBE1v0GfPwZqadWnXOu_otLk9542JlP3i7e7MisSrEzoX4ma_OaKk9-GALwiEbbVPj9DJsMhDPE5UroeS86iq83gfpb2HCFC8hx_AoyvQqYJuce-Scd5K8fSb1/s1600-h/1978+Photo.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 326px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451601257697820130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAEfYcIrtpPHuEaUiFXCpBE1v0GfPwZqadWnXOu_otLk9542JlP3i7e7MisSrEzoX4ma_OaKk9-GALwiEbbVPj9DJsMhDPE5UroeS86iq83gfpb2HCFC8hx_AoyvQqYJuce-Scd5K8fSb1/s400/1978+Photo.jpg" /></a>
<div>Our parents, Rex and Verna Gupton, were elated the night they attended the high school graduation ceremony of their youngest child, my little sister Kelli, in May of 1978. I took the photo above in our kitchen on Kelli's graduation night. Our brother Cody graduated from Columbia High in 1972 and I followed in 1975. And now all of our parents' grandchildren have graduated from high school with the exception of Kelli's son, Tommy Kuban, who is currently a junior at CHS and in the running for class valedictorian. It's about time somebody in the family followed in my footsteps!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7QB2LvdY8jOE-7tQZxhXpihZHUFFa3yfHRah1NT5tjEdy_nxjNlA-wJ8SoIqGpk2DcnrE2orddx8rFpb3xSAuwMciOSgvh55sz0Ar7omFAAl5YusJFTDbUbbG3ADBiP2YcJKMEoXWF2s/s1600-h/Pom-Poms.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 314px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451599888683028146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhj7QB2LvdY8jOE-7tQZxhXpihZHUFFa3yfHRah1NT5tjEdy_nxjNlA-wJ8SoIqGpk2DcnrE2orddx8rFpb3xSAuwMciOSgvh55sz0Ar7omFAAl5YusJFTDbUbbG3ADBiP2YcJKMEoXWF2s/s400/Pom-Poms.jpg" /></a>
<div>In more recent years members of the Gupton and Kuban families have truly enjoyed watching Natalie Kuban lead cheers at Columbia Roughnecks sporting events. Well duh? It runs in the family. Natalie's mother was head cheerleader at Columbia High in the late 1970s. Kelli, pictured above with her megaphone and pom-poms, was voted Homecoming Queen by the student body at CHS in the fall of 1977. She was a member of the 1978 graduating class.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpFDuwBYkqYrHjEtCXhRHv5nBWt8RNVpSM1Qd90SJ1BXtUvIrIAyXzmZFZi4lGcDJ01H71rqPEE8NtSUZ1uahQMWrQrwhVfqY9lDbW_E9uYNTZGDqGpZP1-4ilnMn2-G19v-6p6j3-9Xo/s1600-h/Four+Generations.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 268px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451598277812575314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFpFDuwBYkqYrHjEtCXhRHv5nBWt8RNVpSM1Qd90SJ1BXtUvIrIAyXzmZFZi4lGcDJ01H71rqPEE8NtSUZ1uahQMWrQrwhVfqY9lDbW_E9uYNTZGDqGpZP1-4ilnMn2-G19v-6p6j3-9Xo/s400/Four+Generations.jpg" /></a>
<div>I took this photo of four generations of the Ashenbremmer-Giesler-Gupton-Mosteit family in the backyard of our parents, Rex and Verna Gupton, in West Columbia shortly after the birth of my parents' first grandchild. Dustin David Mosteit, being held by his mother Kelli, will be celebrating his 30th birthday later this year. Also pictured are Dustin's proud grandmother, Verna Mae Giesler Gupton (left), and great-grandmother, Clara Pauline Ashenbremmer Giesler.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWV8xWJ3-SGxMpqsJOolB5rLIub-ENjP2iJqrQVjXKZ9qdbA7XFrbvfuBPHt8QuoKC5UjlZha-fbxqHctCynAOeuLCNV8mJxBmp9HiV8h2R7U9SGw3cJi-isw5rbbeRzZ5h5QbVeF7cJQM/s1600-h/Baby+Kelly+Renee.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 397px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5451596694427760050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWV8xWJ3-SGxMpqsJOolB5rLIub-ENjP2iJqrQVjXKZ9qdbA7XFrbvfuBPHt8QuoKC5UjlZha-fbxqHctCynAOeuLCNV8mJxBmp9HiV8h2R7U9SGw3cJi-isw5rbbeRzZ5h5QbVeF7cJQM/s400/Baby+Kelly+Renee.jpg" /></a>
<div>Our grandparents, Eula and Buff Gupton of West Columbia, Texas, sat down on our couch for a photo opportunity with the new arrival in the Gupton family during a 1960 visit to our home in Markham, Texas. Kelly Renee Gupton, born March 22, 1960, in the Wharton hospital, would be the last of nine grandkids for Mr. and Mrs. Samuel Morris Gupton. The old farts could have smiled, don't you think? Buff and Eula's other grandchildren are, in order of age: Dolores Gupton Rader, Peggy Lou Gupton Boone, Kirby Gupton, Raybourne Ricks "Hank" Gupton, Denise Gupton Ingram, Samuel Cody Gupton, Angie Gupton Middleton, and yours truly, Robert Tracy Gupton. Our grandfather died in 1961, so photos like the one above are the only memories my little sister has of "Bussie" (while my own are very vague and cloudy, since I was only four when he died), and we lost our grandmother Eula in 1968 when I was in the sixth grade and Kelli was a third grader.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-46569265356432661792010-02-10T17:53:00.020-06:002010-02-10T19:19:22.787-06:00My First Born Child Celebrates Another Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGzwFt1GNbfz3uCHe8kZb25IaJ62ZPwwJtE1Yknnhst_1pBVt_mpgQ2oEvlF-pW-spIUK_gcCUGwwoWKPSEQn2o_1WprR0ATqonv_Mx1R9OoerLk2ivOW1UYH7YiWn7jySpQX6lWIqlsj/s1600-h/Few+Candles.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 378px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436786808977047506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIGzwFt1GNbfz3uCHe8kZb25IaJ62ZPwwJtE1Yknnhst_1pBVt_mpgQ2oEvlF-pW-spIUK_gcCUGwwoWKPSEQn2o_1WprR0ATqonv_Mx1R9OoerLk2ivOW1UYH7YiWn7jySpQX6lWIqlsj/s400/Few+Candles.jpg" /></a>
<div>Twenty-eight years ago today my wife Peggy and I were blessed with the birth of our first child. Brian Leslie Gupton was born in Freeport, Texas, on February 10, 1982. The thrill of becoming a father for the first time was truly amazing. Peggy and I never knew what marriage could really offer us as a couple until that magical day 28 years ago when Brian made his entrance into our lives. And what a wonderful 28 years it has been . . . never a dull moment with that little (well, he's not so little anymore, now standing six feet, three inches tall) tyke around. Ever since he learned to walk and talk, Brian quickly took charge in our household. In recent years I have confided to Brian that I felt more like he was raising me than the other way around when reflecting on those long ago years in the 1980s and 90s. But somehow we all survived and are still around today to gather for yet another birthday celebration for the "little blonde bomber" who once ruled the roost at our home. Peggy and I treated Brian and his "baby brother" Blake to a noontime meal today at P.F. Chang's restaurant in Sugar Land to celebrate Brian's birthday. He and his new bride Tiffanie will be dining out tonight to put their personal touch on a much more romantic meal in honor of Brian reaching yet another milestone. His first birthday celebration was captured in the black-and-white photo above when his proud parents (my lovely wife Peggy and me, sporting a mustache, long sideburns and much more hair than I have today) posed with their little pride and joy on his special day. And in the photo below the birthday boy posed with his cousin Dustin Mosteit and their grandmother Verna Gupton, showing off the cake my mother made for Brian's second birthday.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9AREkG_04KlymObcVcXhIGojJkhOumhAOioqDU8Qt8QadXjlaA3oGIkkE2q8gU15Ltw_gGp5AtZBSHhJ1f2eYrcGuKDzIH2WTv8faMjx8YGvIBh6ZYIYmJ9ir4iGfAGbZoF17Gz3aiVk/s1600-h/Brian's+2nd+Birthday.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 251px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436782493506404562" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs9AREkG_04KlymObcVcXhIGojJkhOumhAOioqDU8Qt8QadXjlaA3oGIkkE2q8gU15Ltw_gGp5AtZBSHhJ1f2eYrcGuKDzIH2WTv8faMjx8YGvIBh6ZYIYmJ9ir4iGfAGbZoF17Gz3aiVk/s400/Brian's+2nd+Birthday.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMsUPm-0Rhl9EnEGyqZ3vuuNLkV_iwOs-qCetlXmOfv5uPT4v3Yqa0dJJGlrYA2J9tpq13I9AP1dfYa74ETgDKG4V6wjfNd6uR7p13L5XWxKrvCxXdGYEuRTU7vY5ACwQGMXrvAC-_Iew/s1600-h/Happy+Bday+Brian.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 249px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436782261249308482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjpMsUPm-0Rhl9EnEGyqZ3vuuNLkV_iwOs-qCetlXmOfv5uPT4v3Yqa0dJJGlrYA2J9tpq13I9AP1dfYa74ETgDKG4V6wjfNd6uR7p13L5XWxKrvCxXdGYEuRTU7vY5ACwQGMXrvAC-_Iew/s400/Happy+Bday+Brian.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbxCbrQ_gRkIjflAa0bRJOZbnakdccbnoHbEqoos_j-y-yl0WY50DjCq0vUPJJZw9kQphfuZ3zOJb4NkfCn4RbUWgEh7zqKji5emURsRswTH_-2pfmvKwy9ioplo1qwLxU4xK23PzqGFN/s1600-h/Easter+Sunday.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436781824033072210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJbxCbrQ_gRkIjflAa0bRJOZbnakdccbnoHbEqoos_j-y-yl0WY50DjCq0vUPJJZw9kQphfuZ3zOJb4NkfCn4RbUWgEh7zqKji5emURsRswTH_-2pfmvKwy9ioplo1qwLxU4xK23PzqGFN/s400/Easter+Sunday.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zeEzxBSuA5AHTkaFFcYY_6kHqw36SRyA3b3-7XUP8bFfSRaT0AQBGnR6ZnZEgYytXLUV0TbZvr-Po5JNd-6snqpkzd1o_nkFCUQ0gE_yItFRxRfoQ7-u4aT39So3fVdh5UeSiyX6n9Ki/s1600-h/Briano+Hino.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 239px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436780076205877122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9zeEzxBSuA5AHTkaFFcYY_6kHqw36SRyA3b3-7XUP8bFfSRaT0AQBGnR6ZnZEgYytXLUV0TbZvr-Po5JNd-6snqpkzd1o_nkFCUQ0gE_yItFRxRfoQ7-u4aT39So3fVdh5UeSiyX6n9Ki/s320/Briano+Hino.jpg" /></a>
<div>Brian is pictured above with his family on Easter Sunday during his childhood days. The photo was taken after the heartbreaking passing of Brian's grandfather Omer Hall, who is shown in the photo below at right with his little grandson. In addition to Brian, Bret and Blake Gupton in the Easter photo I took in our backyard on Reverend Swinney Street, are the boys' grandparents Rex and Verna Gupton and Dorothy Hall.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoD-w-OdiLMZ-dVBdT67F1lLwmr9lnxGww2qzAd_WmdUQk3WM1yJ-Kxz0kng-JOiN-pQ1IdO-8URefTnTxtUSR6exDnUqhyphenhyphenO3JGQM4BxbcySkD_GEjzBcrdW_aCL7VMEVo-a5mSNi3R22O/s1600-h/Brian+%26+Pa.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 258px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436779842728777938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoD-w-OdiLMZ-dVBdT67F1lLwmr9lnxGww2qzAd_WmdUQk3WM1yJ-Kxz0kng-JOiN-pQ1IdO-8URefTnTxtUSR6exDnUqhyphenhyphenO3JGQM4BxbcySkD_GEjzBcrdW_aCL7VMEVo-a5mSNi3R22O/s320/Brian+%26+Pa.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wK_3IBLxZ_V19EIxedmPkpCxej3WDOVshrQiNdvz5KhuGVg_3Xdr7PNUnDFuRNI58nT5Y5-aaN_2KChXd26qCHwo-4oNiEw1IiQSppNwHb2PGuN69YZcI5pVi8c_m2riYoHf_EkwKUvf/s1600-h/My+Boys+%26+Dad.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436778202464250034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2wK_3IBLxZ_V19EIxedmPkpCxej3WDOVshrQiNdvz5KhuGVg_3Xdr7PNUnDFuRNI58nT5Y5-aaN_2KChXd26qCHwo-4oNiEw1IiQSppNwHb2PGuN69YZcI5pVi8c_m2riYoHf_EkwKUvf/s400/My+Boys+%26+Dad.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5o5ugQlrGveeQaB02vNytcqyjJupWuRjQLoLVCxTQh57y8-2vwP03l76zAc50dHihWivS8w2NPROXaY7Mp0witPitFQaHL-8zfHDfpVePi2ORKU99Tczf868GuSPTQyH4ZpsI75mAyjn/s1600-h/Group+Shot.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 223px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436777784776681730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhH5o5ugQlrGveeQaB02vNytcqyjJupWuRjQLoLVCxTQh57y8-2vwP03l76zAc50dHihWivS8w2NPROXaY7Mp0witPitFQaHL-8zfHDfpVePi2ORKU99Tczf868GuSPTQyH4ZpsI75mAyjn/s320/Group+Shot.jpg" /></a>
<div>Brian is pictured at left in the photo above with his grandfather and younger brothers in another favorite photo from my collection of family pictures. My Dad, Rex Gupton, adored all of his grandchilren and is dearly missed nine years after his passing. Our adopted son, Kirk Gupton, is shown in the photo at right with Brian, Bret and Blake in a photo I took during Kirk's high school days at Columbia High. All of my "little boys" are grown now, ranging in age from 21 to 34. The reality of that statement definitely makes me feel my age.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugepyNli4Ugtq0ARk3bUzbs7-f-XrnQuXOSM0TyNMHlvAJJ4IUZU406Bg0298saDrMgjSofJoUtjuNT9ZZIUcsAKnN6akQQJJ9PjJvd2lMNjSqHUwI94tnjKtcLHXtQmqLyvD2qy5v6xF/s1600-h/Barry,+Robin+%26+Mo.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 218px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436777514521846450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiugepyNli4Ugtq0ARk3bUzbs7-f-XrnQuXOSM0TyNMHlvAJJ4IUZU406Bg0298saDrMgjSofJoUtjuNT9ZZIUcsAKnN6akQQJJ9PjJvd2lMNjSqHUwI94tnjKtcLHXtQmqLyvD2qy5v6xF/s320/Barry,+Robin+%26+Mo.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuv3e-Ckn8I33uC2G5FDjN_uAbbl62wO-JKVpjIGit5d5KQy2QqXL0eQ01-2hpNSLLONpsAyWGBhKfT9Ip7By1LGpMZjV8LjEGvK0FOqbu9S0A_7B5ZyMqDJx7BAQ_yBgY0ZRA94nvw_ru/s1600-h/The+Bee+Gees.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436777249271806114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuv3e-Ckn8I33uC2G5FDjN_uAbbl62wO-JKVpjIGit5d5KQy2QqXL0eQ01-2hpNSLLONpsAyWGBhKfT9Ip7By1LGpMZjV8LjEGvK0FOqbu9S0A_7B5ZyMqDJx7BAQ_yBgY0ZRA94nvw_ru/s400/The+Bee+Gees.jpg" /></a>
<div>Prior to the deaths of my parents, the Tracy Gupton family resided on Reverend Swinney Street in West Columbia, Texas, for many years. A multitude of wonderful memories are associated with that three-bedroom brick home, most of them involving our sons. Pictured below are, shown with my wife Peggy and I, our boys Brian (in back at left), Blake (wearing the glasses) and Bret. The Gupton boys are pictured above in one of the favorite snapshots I took of my kids.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjobrY1Ecby57IqGXVSOCEfEow2GBqd6Q0m-3fgz5ivpgh9Tz-0RlzYG6ZNzdZLYf8_9cxlCYJPxHqJoQNEGcQePaVG2wTuNLMdAWYQo8W1w3jctUr9Ic_4gu5vkj29QS1UXkITBvHN2bBR/s1600-h/Rev.+Swinney+St..jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 348px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436775728591222098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjobrY1Ecby57IqGXVSOCEfEow2GBqd6Q0m-3fgz5ivpgh9Tz-0RlzYG6ZNzdZLYf8_9cxlCYJPxHqJoQNEGcQePaVG2wTuNLMdAWYQo8W1w3jctUr9Ic_4gu5vkj29QS1UXkITBvHN2bBR/s400/Rev.+Swinney+St..jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVbYR6ItfyJoEbwhD9x3ve9bfGbvTHqRftlM0EnUjlq_gPJLLIbo_xJi82zzKZ9HzNlwL4dTNEBIW0qb1pvOPZBeaX0cvKN-_2EoxdBk4cmnMZkbOVkMHwg1iLkMsiFg09W4fjRW47JWb/s1600-h/The+I+Dos.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436775235681482258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOVbYR6ItfyJoEbwhD9x3ve9bfGbvTHqRftlM0EnUjlq_gPJLLIbo_xJi82zzKZ9HzNlwL4dTNEBIW0qb1pvOPZBeaX0cvKN-_2EoxdBk4cmnMZkbOVkMHwg1iLkMsiFg09W4fjRW47JWb/s400/The+I+Dos.jpg" /></a>
<div>Tiffanie Hatley joined our little family this past October when she married Brian in a beautiful wedding ceremony on the front lawn of the Varner-Hogg mansion near West Columbia. Brian and Tiffanie Gupton are pictured above exchanging their wedding vows in a photo I took from my front row seat, and are shown in the photo below taken last year. Tiffanie has made Brian's life complete and it is awe-inspiring to be able to witness (as father and father-in-law) these two young people sharing their lives, so obviously in love with each other.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQuZKST7xzht4E8T27GijH6KSVW2owuWhcPzMUzGEcMG2VBDoIkPLijaTD6499EPUyoZQwOWSqfYRL54b8Sf1va0ASLIQFwKwvdCzVunWc3X3UcCGO5Q9rNnMxGzv-2ReLrKR7bJhzodY/s1600-h/The+Newlyweds.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436773287295367986" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEizQuZKST7xzht4E8T27GijH6KSVW2owuWhcPzMUzGEcMG2VBDoIkPLijaTD6499EPUyoZQwOWSqfYRL54b8Sf1va0ASLIQFwKwvdCzVunWc3X3UcCGO5Q9rNnMxGzv-2ReLrKR7bJhzodY/s400/The+Newlyweds.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtedjSZL4W7Hd7VoDYzbnaiQo-LjgNe2uRF9cKuW7TyKrYj1fiTnRsv7qMjj3NgxwJGiSsT59mil70WlrIpv6yyXzj7DmsAkYhbG6sf-OARJAoLA6RP2eI5nDHM1_SsJuToxAJdQAqVYlY/s1600-h/BLG+at+18.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 214px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436772844113099522" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtedjSZL4W7Hd7VoDYzbnaiQo-LjgNe2uRF9cKuW7TyKrYj1fiTnRsv7qMjj3NgxwJGiSsT59mil70WlrIpv6yyXzj7DmsAkYhbG6sf-OARJAoLA6RP2eI5nDHM1_SsJuToxAJdQAqVYlY/s320/BLG+at+18.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsRR1K9pAWqx6rbGwzqoRn-ezgO8Cg8WXO8MzbnosBVyCLLv8JERztDKaM89XkRG-0ck45nGt0CizlZ8Iy6ZCPdFO-ZufRVt6pNKhBNkkhD1X8D57nZ607T8YBaUT-YpkCvI7dgU_iKZU/s1600-h/22nd+Birthday.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 219px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436772541993378274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghsRR1K9pAWqx6rbGwzqoRn-ezgO8Cg8WXO8MzbnosBVyCLLv8JERztDKaM89XkRG-0ck45nGt0CizlZ8Iy6ZCPdFO-ZufRVt6pNKhBNkkhD1X8D57nZ607T8YBaUT-YpkCvI7dgU_iKZU/s320/22nd+Birthday.jpg" /></a>
<div>The photo above, at left, was taken when my son Brian was 18 years old and finishing up his senior year at Columbia High School. The photo at right is from his 22nd birthday six years ago.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwaiS8h2fZ7DfXl8Lp9vrasqz8NOa5_YCs9uqPO6u4ljL3QEkZLgAi1s5X9vOcfgMuLNSZUQYC1lKVfvtGbRWfLtxCOKz8iDQGugGwhOEI-g6Y2pnfFswUqhU-YxWUT1GruLvpFGOAJdY/s1600-h/Daddy+and+Son.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5436771473951250738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUwaiS8h2fZ7DfXl8Lp9vrasqz8NOa5_YCs9uqPO6u4ljL3QEkZLgAi1s5X9vOcfgMuLNSZUQYC1lKVfvtGbRWfLtxCOKz8iDQGugGwhOEI-g6Y2pnfFswUqhU-YxWUT1GruLvpFGOAJdY/s400/Daddy+and+Son.bmp" /></a>
<div>If the final chapters and epilogue of this wordsmith's life story pan out as I am hoping, this ol' boy from Southeast Texas will be around to sing "Happy Birthday" to Brian and all of my other sons and grandchildren (and possibly still be around when great-grandchildren arrive) for several more decades. I love them all with such passion that I do not want to miss out on anything in the futures of each son and their spouses and children. But if fate finds my own lifelight dimming much sooner than planned, I can surely say that the children in my life have made me complete in ways words cannot adequately describe. And for that alone, I thank Brian and his brothers for definitely making my life more fun and interesting than it could ever have been without them. I love you Brian Leslie Gupton. Happy Birthday, and wishes are extended from your old man to live life to the fullest, enjoy each and every day, and may many, many more birthdays be in your future. Take care, kid!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-67888902270688079142010-01-29T15:15:00.021-06:002010-01-31T20:26:12.229-06:00Sunday Night Grammys Will Not Feature Many Of My Favorites<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2bFSPurHYft-9QaZozLY-dNd9f0GDY6c2rvwM-ompnrcDHTi_RLydg7jlgz0yE7Mm0UvlhHZrLZ2nWqR0oe8MqhRAs7scZXlaP1cLCpj_3rkW-TqiRVZ8-WG60UlHgFcpyepaKFoSGvj/s1600-h/Ultimate+BeeGees.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 372px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433087991476640306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-2bFSPurHYft-9QaZozLY-dNd9f0GDY6c2rvwM-ompnrcDHTi_RLydg7jlgz0yE7Mm0UvlhHZrLZ2nWqR0oe8MqhRAs7scZXlaP1cLCpj_3rkW-TqiRVZ8-WG60UlHgFcpyepaKFoSGvj/s400/Ultimate+BeeGees.jpg" /></a>
<div>When the envelopes are ripped open at tonight's Grammy Awards and winners announced in the many categories, honoring the so-called best of the music business in 2009, chances are slim that the names of any of the recording artists I consider the past year's elite will be called up to the stage. A few of my selections for having recorded the best CD's in 2009 have been nominated (Keith Urban, John Fogerty, Seal) for Grammys but none are expected to win. Instead the names of young entertainers like Lady Gaga, Kings Of Leon, the Black Eyed Peas, Maxwell and Taylor Swift are expected to be called when the 2010 Grammys are distributed tonight. As a child of the sixties who attended high school and college in the seventies, the results of my Top 10 reflect my upbringing. Those recording artists I listened to as a child, teen and young man continue to be at the top of my list when selecting new CD's to purchase. That is where my loyalties lie. I really don't listen to radio much anymore. And I honestly can't tell you one song sung by the likes of Lady Gaga, Maxwell, Kanye West or most of the other Grammy nominees, and I'm only aware of Taylor Swift and Beyonce (who are nominated for the most Grammy awards this year) because of their oversaturation of the TV airwaves in recent years. So, to really put a spotlight on just how "stuck in the past" I am, I present to you, those of you in single digits who actually read my blog, T. Gup's 10 favorite CD's of the past year. And holding down those hallowed Top 2 spots are those cutting edge new British acts (part of the actual British Invasion of the 1960s) The Beatles and The Bee Gees. In the three and four slots are the singers whose 2009 releases, which were actually recorded and offered to the CD buying public in 2009, Lionel Richie and Keith Urban. It was a difficult decision to make but the primary ingredient being considered is simply how much enjoyment and listening pleasure I have received over the past 13 months from each CD I purchased or was presented as a gift in 2009. AND THE WINNER IS: an album recorded over 40 years ago. Yea, that's right. "Rubber Soul" was my favorite Beatles album from a time when The Fab Four (pictured below) ruled the record charts. All of the original albums recorded by George Harrison, John Lennon, Paul McCartney and Ringo Starr were rereleased in 2009 after being digitally remastered. I can't adequately describe in mere words the thrill this huge Beatles fan received after purchasing the NEW "Rubber Soul" CD at a Best Buy in Pearland last fall (it was released on November 9, 2009) and listening to it in my pickup truck on the drive back to West Columbia. Several songs are included on this NEW album (<em>Drive My Car, Nowhere Man, What Goes On</em>) that were not on the 1965 album that was released in the U.S. So their inclusion in the '09 version of "Rubber Soul" is the icing on the cake for me, the "cake" being the purer sound quality of the many great songs I used to sing along to while playing my album in my bedroom as a child. <em>Norwegian</em> <em>Wood, Think For Yourself, Michelle, I'm Looking Through You</em> and <em>Run For Your Life</em> were not huge hits for The Beatles and none of these are usually included when most people start ranking there alltime favorite Beatles songs, but those songs populating the offerings from "Rubber Soul" were then, and remain today, among my personal favorites. "Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band" won the Grammy for Album Of The Year. It is considered the No. 1 rock album of all time by Rolling Stone magazine, and The Beatles won four Grammys after "Sgt. Pepper's" was released in 1967. But "Rubber Soul," which is also on that Rolling Stone Top 10 list of all time best rock albums, preceded "Sgt. Pepper's" by two years and supercedes its more popular followup album in my opinion as the better album. So when poring over all of the CD's I purchased over the past year, it came down to deciding between "Rubber Soul," the 2009 remastered release, and "The Ultimate Bee Gees," a 2-CD set of the Brothers Gibb's greatest hits. "Ultimate" also includes a DVD of a variety of music videos, concert footage and old TV appearances made in England and America by Barry, Maurice and Robin Gibb. I was a huge fan of the Gibbs in the late 1960s, long before the Disco craze brought the Bee Gees their largest success and greatest riches as recording artists. All of those great hits are included in this package. The Bee Gees won the Grammy for Album Of The Year for their contributions to the "Saturday Night Fever" soundtrack, which was released in November of 1977. "The Ultimate Bee Gees," released November 3, 2009, comes in second on my Top 10 list because of its overwhelming affect on me personally. Like with the new "Rubber Soul" CD, "The Ultimate Bee Gees" brings many of the Gibb brothers' hits from the sixties, which were recorded in mono, to me and the millions of other huge Bee Gees fans in much improved, remastered stereo. And it was their early hits, like <em>To Love Somebody, I Started A Joke, Massachusetts, Run To Me,</em> <em>Lonely Days</em> and <em>How Can You Mend A Broken Heart,</em> that served as the basis for my original infatuation with that addictive Gibb sound. The untouchable harmonies that no other group could match or surpass. And this new CD brings their popular disco sound from the seventies, which spawned Top 10 hits such as <em>Night Fever, Stayin' Alive, You Should Be Dancing, Jive</em> <em>Talking</em> and <em>How Deep Is Your Love</em>, onto the same double CD set with the best of the songs the Gibb brothers recorded in the eighties, nineties and since 2000. This Bee Gees fan never stopped buying their CD's. I have every Bee Gees album, including the solo releases Barry and Robin Gibb have recorded over the years, in my collection, so it is easily understood why a release like "Ultimate" would rank so high of any list I compiled. </div>
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<div>From my earliest record buying days in the early 1960s, several of those recording artists whose releases from my childhood days were purchased with my meager allowance and yard mowing money still demand selection to my personal Top 10 of new releases today. Sir Tom Jones, pictured below in a photo from the inner liner of his 2008 release "24 Hours," remains the man I still consider having the most powerful singing voice, even as he approaches his 70th birthday. Tom may be a grandfather to some, but he continues to be included among my favorite singers. He is living proof that the old adage still rings true: "He's not getting older, he's getting better with age." Ringo Starr and Delbert McClinton are, about the same age as Tom Jones while fellow surviving ex-Beatle Paul McCartney is now 67, the same age as my longtime favorite singer B.J. Thomas. They all hold down spots in my Top 10 for 2009, along with a couple of forty year olds and a mere baby, West Columbia's own Zack Walther who is just now approaching 30. </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HzTpX5eLna-qZ1KiidW9VpFr6IrHvC8BUs2sKF8efozojo9ReeICHCJ4_uf4wIfFUmPd2TuUATFAiP0RqaD4WxPi81g55xcdJR3as3okmyg53K0IE2KvTsNDbtVyyL8-SaS0rKwYu-Eq/s1600-h/Tom+Jones.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 369px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433069326165599538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5HzTpX5eLna-qZ1KiidW9VpFr6IrHvC8BUs2sKF8efozojo9ReeICHCJ4_uf4wIfFUmPd2TuUATFAiP0RqaD4WxPi81g55xcdJR3as3okmyg53K0IE2KvTsNDbtVyyL8-SaS0rKwYu-Eq/s400/Tom+Jones.jpg" /></a>
<div>Among those musical acts featured in my personal Top 10 list whose CD's I purchased in the past year are below, Zack Walther (second from left in the group photo) And The Cronkites whose CD "Ambition" was No. 8; B.J. Thomas (below at left) whose '09 offering "Once I Loved" came in at No. 9; John Fogerty (below at right) who was No. 7 with "The Blue Ridge Rangers Rides Again;" and below those three photos, smooth soul crooner Lionel Richie, whose "Just Go" was my favorite new CD of 2009 but came in third overall on my Top 10 list, trailing what I consider the best two bands of my lifetime, The Beatles and The Bee Gees.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6tKHuPppjGad68ISFHxLqKDD_6uKLAI7oDZ7WrtJ5DOmrWJATgvu8GCGUaiGzkoR7fMolXsG-60YpQ-wIu9uSNIBKRVRbhdpQ74JiFg-iuXKVQztdFOAiy7pq-hGfD4bz0hn4HWkm9cF/s1600-h/B.J.+Thomas.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 243px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433066422510365282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_6tKHuPppjGad68ISFHxLqKDD_6uKLAI7oDZ7WrtJ5DOmrWJATgvu8GCGUaiGzkoR7fMolXsG-60YpQ-wIu9uSNIBKRVRbhdpQ74JiFg-iuXKVQztdFOAiy7pq-hGfD4bz0hn4HWkm9cF/s400/B.J.+Thomas.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFiag9H12uvwxiD7DpQwUbVP5MimvARF_G0qgG96aCMbmhnKOll1BO9tpXuv59Ks5DdXmiiO28YFYhCV_M54TqYhlGmkL4wA0RrYiM094KXxbg-VnbN9J492hFEEQTEODq1NwXO_ir78mG/s1600-h/2008+Grammies.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 268px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433066275338183330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFiag9H12uvwxiD7DpQwUbVP5MimvARF_G0qgG96aCMbmhnKOll1BO9tpXuv59Ks5DdXmiiO28YFYhCV_M54TqYhlGmkL4wA0RrYiM094KXxbg-VnbN9J492hFEEQTEODq1NwXO_ir78mG/s400/2008+Grammies.jpg" /></a>
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<div>Lionel Richie, who turned 60 recently, won the Grammy for Album Of The Year in 1983 with his second solo offering, "Can't Slow Down." While this superb record was also earning Richie two more Grammys, it and other Commodores and solo albums by Lionel were providing background melodies and setting the mood for the creation of all of my children. Lionel Richie was to my generation with his many romantic slow jams what Frank Sinatra supposedly was to my parents' generation. I still possess all of those Commodores records, as well as everything Lionel Richie has recorded since walking away from the band he joined in college at The Tuskegee Institute. And the man has never let me down. The work he has released in recent years has been just as good as it was back in the seventies when he was writing and singing such great songs as "Sail Away," "Still," "Dancing On The Ceiling" and "Deep River Woman." His 2009 CD "Just Go" (released May 19th) is chock full of outstanding soul songs that keep me hitting the "play" button repeatedly when I stick this disc in my CD player. The Alabama native, born June 20, 1949, has sold more than 100 million records in his remarkable career. He keeps his records up-to-date with the infusion of creative participation from younger hip-hop generation stalwarts as Akon (who sings with Lionel on <em>Just Go</em> and <em>Nothing Left To Give</em>) and the duo of Terius "The Dream" Nash and Christopher "Tricky" Stewart. Nash and Stewart work on four songs while Akon contributes his writing, production and singing skills on the two songs mentioned above. Introducing a 60-year-old artist to a younger audience with new material is asking for a lot, but Richie's devoted fan base (which definitely includes yours truly) will find plenty to like on "Just Go." </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_mKPKfE0f2lzzuhiF8pJV5I4E24H1qGMOwz-LaXJ70F_edksNYcZgJ03chpWUTCd-ed70iU4PdFYoZOnoUBK6BzMhvIpSes27n24ElWDj0WIlDIA3XphwuN9gMRhb_sHReJ6Qtbz7FMG/s1600-h/Keith+Urban.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 381px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433060841830091442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEid_mKPKfE0f2lzzuhiF8pJV5I4E24H1qGMOwz-LaXJ70F_edksNYcZgJ03chpWUTCd-ed70iU4PdFYoZOnoUBK6BzMhvIpSes27n24ElWDj0WIlDIA3XphwuN9gMRhb_sHReJ6Qtbz7FMG/s400/Keith+Urban.jpg" /></a>
<div>Aussie Keith Urban's 2009 offering, "Defying Gravity," is up for Best Country Album at tonight's Grammy Awards telecast on CBS. I have to give the Grammy powers that be for giving cudos to a very worthy CD this year, but in my opinion "Defying Gravity" deserves inclusion in the overall Album Of The Year category. It is that good. Urban, pictured above, has had 10 No. 1 songs on the country charts since winning Top New Male Vocalist honors at the 2001 Academy of Country Music Awards. He also won the same Horizon Award in 2001 that Darius Rucker won in 2009 at the CMA Awards. Urban, 42, was born October 26, 1967, in New Zealand but grew up in Australia where the Bee Gees began their illustrious musical career 50 years ago. He moved to Nashville in 1992 and earned a living as a studio guitarist. Urban played guitar on tours for Brooks and Dunn and Alan Jackson before pursuing a solo career. Good move, Keith. Going out on his own led to Keith Urban being named the 2005 CMA Male Vocalist Of The Year. His second album, "Golden Road," which includes one of my alltime favorite songs <em>You'll</em> <em>Think Of Me</em>, remains among my most played CD's to this day and several tunes from "Golden Road" are included on my personal MP3 player. But now "Defying Gravity" is getting the most play time, along with Lionel Richie's "Just Go," on my CD players. That is why they are my choices for the best two new CD's of 2009. Because simply put, in The World According To Gup (which is the only world I have any interest in), what this ol' country boy from Southeast Texas likes to listen to is now and has always been GOOD MUSIC, plain and simple. I don't listen to music I can't stand, and I have zero interest in what songs are populating the upper echelons of Billboard's hit list or what albums and singles will be recognized tonight with Grammy awards. Just because millions of other people like a particular form of music has no bearing whatsoever on what I like to listen to. I first heard Keith Urban's new hit song <em>Til Summer Comes Around</em> on the radio and couldn't wait to give it a second listen (and third and fourth and so on and so on). It should be included along with Lionel Richie's <em>Just Go</em>, Tom Jones' <em>If He Should Ever</em> <em>Leave You</em> and Tina Turner's <em>It Would Be A Crime</em> in the Song Of The Year category tonight on the Grammy Awards when the best music of 2009 is what should be on display, in place of the crap that has actually been chosen. "Defying Gravity" is Keith Urban's fifth album. And it carries on Urban's now trademark meld of country, pop and rock and roll in the 11 songs included on the CD. Urban cowrote eight of the 11 songs and arranged all of them, including those that are my favorites: <em>Only You Can Love Me This Way, If Ever I Could Love, Standing</em> <em>Right In Front Of You</em> and his nakedly emotional paean to his wife Nicole Kidman, <em>Thank You</em>, that closes this first rate CD.</div>
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<div>A pair of CD's released in the fall of 2008 really surprised me with just how good they each are. Both "Learn To Live" by Hootie & The Blowfish lead singer Darius Rucker and "24 Hours" by Sir Tom Jones were not discovered by yours truly until the early months of last year. So my CD players in my truck and in my home got used to finding these two discs playing on them from January to December in 2009. Rucker, at 43 among the youngest of my current favorite singers, and Jones, now 69 years young (can you believe that the hip shaking heartthrob will be turning 70 years old on June 7th of this year), have something else in common other than battling it out for the middle two slots in my Top 10 of best CD's of 2009. Tom Jones was the 1966 Grammy winner for Best New Artist, while Hootie & The Blowfish won the Grammy in the same category 30 years later in 1996. Among my other favorites who have won Best New Artist Grammys include The Beatles in 1965, Tracy Chapman in 1989 and Marc Cohn in 1992. Cohn, whose 2007 CD "Join The Parade" still gets lots of listens from me in early 2010, won out for Best New Artist 18 years ago over Seal, another of the current recording artists whose career I follow closely (see below for more on Seal). So many of the singers I rank among my faves have had their moments in the Grammys spotlight, and a few are nominated this year, but overall I view things a lot differently than those people who possess the power to decide whose names are announced at Sunday night's Grammy Awards telecast from Los Angeles. Jones, who was knighted by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II at Buckingham Palace on March 29, 2006, was born in Pontypridd, Wales, as Thomas Jones Woodward on June 7, 1940, and along with Tina Turner (now 70 years old) is the eldest of the singers I spent my hardearned money on their albums in the past year. "24 Hours" blew me away when I first listened to the CD early last year. The song "If He Should Ever Leave You" should be among the Grammy nominees for Song of the Year in my estimation. It is one of those rare tunes (especially rare for modern times and all the weak offerings that are getting radio play) that strikes me as a song I want to play on my CD player over and over and over. You can find it on YouTube where Sir Tom performs it on a British TV show that is similar to America's "Dancing With The Stars." Another song from "24 Hours" entitled <em>More Than Memories</em> provides Jones the perfect opportunity to really put his golden pipes on display. Truly an excellent love song pulled off with perfection by a singer whose records I have been buying since the 1960s. Tom Jones has sold over 100 million records and his career of nearly 50 years has been highlighted by <em>It's Not Unusual</em> in 1965, singing the theme song to the James Bond flick "Thunderball" (also in 1965), having a No. 1 hit with <em>The</em> <em>Green, Green Grass Of Home</em> in the late sixties, a No. 2 with 1971's She's A Lady, hosting his own TV show, being a Las Vegas icon, and now having his recent single that I love so much, <em>If He Should Ever Leave You,</em> being named No. 9 by Spinner magazine as one of the best songs of 2008. And while Darius Rucker, born May 13, 1966, in Charleston, South Carolina, the year after Tom Jones won his first Grammy, had to share his first Grammy with his Hootie & The Blowfish bandmates, earlier this year he was the solo winner of The Horizon Award as Best New Artist at the Country Music Association Awards. That's one of those things that makes you go <em>HUH???</em> Best new artist? Hell, Darius has been around seemingly forever. But it was a definite stretch for him to record "Learn To Live." Venturing into the palate of country music by an artist who has made his name in mainstream pop and rock genres obviously had its chances for failure. But with a golden voice like Darius Rucker's, this music fan thinks he could be successful recording in practically any musical field he wants to. "Learn To Live" was released on September 16, 2008, but the hits just keep coming from this outstanding CD. Rucker's first solo experiement, 2002's "Back To Then" on the Hidden Beach label, was an attempt at old fashioned soul music that was met with lukewarm record sales. He continued touring and recording with Hootie & The Blowfish (I saw them in concert at the Cynthia Woods Mitchell Pavilion in The Woodlands a couple years ago) until taking the blind leap of faith into the deep pool of risk involved with his most recent career change. But the country music audience has accepted Darius with open arms, making the first three singles from "Learn To Live" all No. 1 hits on the U.S. Hot Country Songs chart. Rucker's latest CD was certified gold on February 6, 2009, and went platinum on August 7th of last year. The most recent single, <em>History In The</em> <em>Making</em>, climbed as high as No. 6 on the country charts in 2009. So Rucker (pictured above) remained relevant throughout the past year among CD buyers. This was one of those rare occurrences where my taste in music and what I think is really top notch recorded material matched what the majority of the record buying public believes. The singles <em>Don't Think I Don't</em> <em>Think About It</em>, <em>It Won't Be Like This For Long</em> and <em>Alright</em> all went to No. 1 on the country charts for Darius Rucker. </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjCDRk2wzQ7cFM3vc0k-rOUfytp7Kh4eTwr_zrb7qPCmx52BHDJ_79t76gf4fuG9aNTBdMHEwCaq03nTUOuCgIPo93BTC5rKF-NHqBpWG9gJaZ-oX6eTpVIGg2Ujvsi8ByvBSR3DLslqf/s1600-h/Revival+Photo.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5433037500941589154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjyjCDRk2wzQ7cFM3vc0k-rOUfytp7Kh4eTwr_zrb7qPCmx52BHDJ_79t76gf4fuG9aNTBdMHEwCaq03nTUOuCgIPo93BTC5rKF-NHqBpWG9gJaZ-oX6eTpVIGg2Ujvsi8ByvBSR3DLslqf/s400/Revival+Photo.jpg" /></a>
<div>When Rock And Roll Hall of Famers Creedence Clearwater Revival disbanded in the early 1970s, their songwriter, producer and lead singer John Fogerty (pictured above) released a country album entitled "The Blue Ridge Rangers" in which the Berkely, California, native played every instrument on. Fogerty's 2009 release, which is No. 7 on my Top 10 list, follows the same menu in song selections but this time John employs many of the same superb musicians who tour regularly with him instead of trying to be a one man band like he did with his first solo post-Creedence effort. "The Blue Ridge Rangers Rides Again," released August 31, 2009, has a dozen songs that are all outstanding productions from the singer-songwriter who is as much a part of this writer's musical upbringing as Lennon and McCartney, the Gibb brothers, Elvis or any other group or individual that I have devoted countless hours listening to since my childhood. Fogerty's latest is nominated for a Grammy Sunday night in a category he is not likely to win, competing with the likes of Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan and Neil Young. The former CCR leader won the Grammy for Best Rock Album in 1997 with "Blue Moon Swamp." His 2008 release entitled "Revival" was nominated for Best Rock Album but lost the Grammy to The Foo Fighters (whoever the hell they are). My son Bret gave me a wonderful birthday gift earlier this month, a new DVD of John Fogerty in concert that is truly outstanding. Fogerty and many of the same musicians who play with him on "The Blue Ridge Rangers Rides Again" were captured on film at the June 24, 2008, concert they put on at the Royal Albert Hall in London. Fogerty and CCR had played at the Royal Albert Hall in 1971 and the new DVD gives Fogerty fans such as myself (I doubt John Cameron Fogerty has a bigger fan in the world than yours truly) the opportunity to experience from the comfort of your own living room this magical concert where Fogerty covers just about every hit song he has been responsible for over the past 40-plus years. Now 64, the pride of El Cerrito, California, is in fine voice on his resurrection of The Blue Ridge Rangers project. Eagles Don Henley and Timothy B. Schmit join Fogerty on Ricky Nelson's "Garden Party," Bruce Springsteen shows up on The Everly Brothers' "When Will I Be Loved," and the accompaniment of fiddler Jason Mowery, drummer Kenny Aronoff, bassist Dennis Crouch and dobro, steel guitar and mandolin virtuouso Greg Leisz highlight Fogerty's versions of country classics like "Heaven's Just A Sin Away," "Moody River," "Fallin' Fallin' Fallin'," and "Never Ending Song Of Love." And I especially like Fogerty's take on the John Denver classic, "Back Home Again." As much as I liked "The Blue Ridge Rangers" when it first came out around 35 years ago, I have to admit I find 2009's "The Blue Ridge Rangers Rides Again" even more enjoyable.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6RNXkUaCKT0pBTKYGzmHSyiX_R8GP2r71BYO4uzaRmdbo5EpH01qe-6B9Fv_BCfzxKvg93RXGn-UN6IZRp0cO0Lk3QHPzTVzwNszcmjGE07anZ5SRRUhR5nFu89Oi3flbszbnwZsZ_hC/s1600-h/Jammin'+Zack.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432296685631069602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ6RNXkUaCKT0pBTKYGzmHSyiX_R8GP2r71BYO4uzaRmdbo5EpH01qe-6B9Fv_BCfzxKvg93RXGn-UN6IZRp0cO0Lk3QHPzTVzwNszcmjGE07anZ5SRRUhR5nFu89Oi3flbszbnwZsZ_hC/s400/Jammin'+Zack.jpg" /></a>
<div>Closing out my Top 10 for the best CD's released in 2009 are three Texas boys, two of whom hail from my neck of the woods. At No. 8 on the list is former West Columbian Zack Walther whose latest CD, "Ambition," was released in late 2008 on the Sustain label. Zack (pictured above), a 1998 graduate of Columbia High School in my hometown of West Columbia, is now recording and touring with a group called Zack Walther & The Cronkites. I purchased a copy of "Ambition" at a record store in Greune on an early 2009 visit my wife Peggy and I made to New Braunfels to "get away" from the grind of our daily lives and for an escape from extreme boredom. I had heard that Zack was doing well in the music business but, not until listening to "Ambition" on the drive back home from New Braunfels, did Peggy and I realize just how talented this young man from West Columbia truly is. From "Georgia Cane," the opening selection on the CD, to the closer, "Pull The Pin," we were both enthralled by the vocal theatrics of Zack Walther. Now based primarily in the New Braunfels area, Zack Walther & The Cronkites occasionally perform locally at The Armadillo Ballroom near Brazoria. Take in their show when you have the chance. At No. 9 on my Top 10 list for 2009 releases is B.J. Thomas's "Once I Loved" (or "Amor Em Paz"). The latest release from the multiple Grammy award winning former Lamar Consolidated High School graduate from nearby Rosenberg, Texas, was recorded in Brazil and features vocal accompaniment from Brazilian singers Ivan Lins, Ivete Sangalo, Joad Bosco and Leila Pinheiro. This new CD from the 67-year-old Thomas, who hit it big in the 1960s with smash hits like "Hooked On A Feeling," "Eyes Of A New York Woman," "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" and "Rock 'n Roll Lullabye," is definitely worth the purchase price. But it is definitely a stretch for B.J. (pictured below at right), taking him from the musical genres of rock, country and gospel that have earned him a handful of Grammys and top of the charts hit songs from a successful era that spans the years from the early 1960s when he and his band, The Triumphs, were performing all over Southeast Texas (including playing at Columbia High School's junior-senior prom) through several decades of solo success. Born August 7, 1942, in Hugo, Oklahoma, Billy Joe Thomas grew up in Rosenberg, Texas, and became nationally known in 1966 when his version of the Hank Williams classic, "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry, became a hit song. Thomas topped the Billboard charts in January 1970 with the Oscar-nominated song "Raindrops Keep Falling On My Head" from the motion picture "Butch Cassidy And The Sundance Kid." In 1975 B.J. had his second No. 1 hit song with "Hey, Won't You Play Another Somebody Done Somebody Wrong Song." I have seen B.J. Thomas live a half dozen times or more since the early 1980s, most recently a few years ago at The Stafford Centre in a memorable performance that saw his old band The Triumphs open that concert for him. Another Texas music icon that I have seen in concert four or five times is Lubbock native Delbert McClinton, whose "Acquired Taste" CD was released on August 18, 2009. This latest McClinton release sits at the bottom of my 2009 Top 10 primarily because I have practically everything Delbert has released in my large record collection, and I simply haven't acquired a taste yet for his new CD. But I find myself liking the songs on "Acquired Taste" a little bit more with each repeated listening. Delbert's 2009 release reached the top of the U.S. Blues charts, so obviously there are lots of other music lovers in America who appreciate "Acquired Taste" more than I do. But, in my opinion, the songs of this CD simply do not measure up to what Delbert has recorded in previous years. His "The Cost Of Living" CD won the Grammy Award in the Best Contemporary Blues Album category in 2006. McClinton, born November 4, 1940, won his first Grammy in 1991 for the duet he did with Bonnie Raitt, "Good Man, Good Woman." Now 69, Delbert's voice is showing the ravages of advancing years. But that is not always a bad thing. The 14 songs on "Acquired Taste" (produced by Don Was who worked wonders with the late Johnny Cash's aging pipes in the recording studio on The Man In Black's final releases) bring out the best in what Delbert McClinton has left. "McClinton never deviates from the roots," one review of his latest CD states, "but the producer (Was) adds some Afro-Cuban percussion on some tracks like the opener, <em>Mama's Little Baby</em>, to give this Southern funk tune some urban bump, without compromising the rawness in either the grain of the singer's voice or the immediacy of the band's sound." McClinton, who I once saw in The Summit in Houston in the 1980s on the same bill with Bonnie Raitt and Willie Nelson, wrote or cowrote all 14 songs. <em>Can't Nobody Say I Didn't Try</em> is a killer honky tonk number that I particularly am fond of on "Acquired Taste." It would be a very rare year when a new Delbert McClinton release would fail to make Tracy Gupton's Top 10 list, and 2009 is no different than any other year. My admiration for this fellow Texan has lasted about 40 years, from the time Delbert played harmonica on Bruce Channel's 1962 hit, <em>Hey, Baby</em>, to 1980 when his <em>Givin' It Up For Your Love</em> (from the great album "The Jealous Kind") reached No. 8 on the Billboard Hot 100 list, right up to recent years that have seen four of his albums reach No. 1 on the U.S. Blues Chart.</div>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ztOjmwp9COCu2mGo3RiRBAVlYfcqJWRUH4DlZjGUjcgyKz8dXQbTisBjp7NcO-cn5JpSZgUo8HGoDI2_DqZLGviy1X-hbtCRFUQHlbv7zjhgK7A0zbiEOHgYUL8UMu4PYsYjas0QHZCi/s1600-h/Billy+Joe.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432292306571739426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0ztOjmwp9COCu2mGo3RiRBAVlYfcqJWRUH4DlZjGUjcgyKz8dXQbTisBjp7NcO-cn5JpSZgUo8HGoDI2_DqZLGviy1X-hbtCRFUQHlbv7zjhgK7A0zbiEOHgYUL8UMu4PYsYjas0QHZCi/s400/Billy+Joe.jpg" /></a>
<div>The British singer Seal, who seems to be more famous these days for being the husband of fashion model Heidi Klum rather than for all of the wonderful ear candy he has recorded over the years, remains at the top of my personal list of truly remarkable voices. His album "Soul" was released in 2008, which prevents him from being included in my Top 10 for 2009, but his '09 release "Hits" could have notched a spot in my top five . . . if I had bought it. But I have in my CD collection every one of Seal's earlier material, including a double CD of "Greatest Hits" released several years ago. So "Hits" was not on my short list of "must have" additions to my record and CD collection. Seal, pictured below on the cover of "Soul," added two previously unreleased songs, "I Am Your Man" and "Thank You," to his '09 "Hits" CD (which was released on November 30, 2009, on Warner Records). So perhaps I will one day dish out the 15 bucks or so and buy it, simply to add these two new songs to my collection. With "Soul," Seal has followed the path of several of my other favorite singers (Michael McDonald, Aaron Neville, Marc Broussard) who also recorded albums where many of the best old soul standards were covered. And what better modern day voice to take a stab at these soul classics than Seal's? "Soul" peaked at No. 13 on the U.S. Billboard Top 200 in 2008, was No. 12 on Seal's home country record charts, and climbed as high as No. 4 on the Billboard Top R&B/Hip-Hop Albums charts in '08 in the United States. The dozen tracks on "Soul" included Seal's velvet touch with many of the best tunes from my youth: Al Green's "Here I Am (Come And Take Me)" and "I'm Still In Love With You;" "If You Don't Know Me By Now" by Harold Melvin And the Blue Notes (originally sung by Teddy Pendergrass, who passed away recently); Sam Cooke's "A Change Is Gonna Come;" James Brown's "It's A Man's World;" Jerry Butler's "I've Been Loving You Too Long;" "Knock On Wood" by Eddie Floyd; and Curtis Mayfield's "People Get Ready." "Soul" is among many CD's I purchased in 2008 but wore out listening to throughout the past year. One Seal Henry Samuel comes highly recommended to anyone reading this blog who has yet to discover this dynamic singer of Nigerian descent. My wife and I had the extreme pleasure of witnessing Seal (and outstanding opening act Van Hunt) in concert at The Arena Theater in Houston several years ago. It was truly uplifting to be present for such an amazing musical experience.</div>
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<div>Among the other CD's I purchased in 2009 or in the latter months of 2008, all of which I have truly enjoyed listening to but have left off of my Top 10 list because of their earlier release dates, include the soundtrack from the Martin Scorsese "rockumentary" that captures The Rolling Stones in concert, "Shine A Light." I had asked my spouse for a Rolling Stones greatest hits collection for Christmas 2008 and found "Shine A Light" inside the box when I opened my gift from the missus. Both the movie and soundtrack CD were released in 2008 but I did not get to enjoy this concert CD until the early months of 2009. And while it fails to deliver the compilation of The Stones' "greatest hits," spanning this remarkable British band's long career from the 1960s through their more recent offerings, much of Mick Jagger and Keith Richards's best work is included in "Shine A Light." From the concert opener, "Jumpin' Jack Flash," to the two-disc set's conclusion, many of The Stones' best work is included in this live set. "Satisfaction," "Paint It Black," "Brown Sugar" and "Tumbling Dice" are among my favorites. The Stones' fellow Brit Joe Cocker released "Hymn For My Soul" in either late 2007 or early 2008, but I did not purchase this CD until 2009. And while Cocker, much like The Bee Gees, is admittedly "an acquired taste" when it comes to his "gargles with kerosene" raspy voice, I have been a big fan of Cocker's since the sixties. Like Fogerty and his CCR bandmates, Joe Cocker also performed at Woodstock and is now in his mid-60's. My favorite selections from Cocker's "Hymn For My Soul" (which is not a gospel album, as the title might lead one to believe), are cover versions of The Beatles' "Come Together," John Fogerty's "Long As I Can See The Light" and Stevie Wonder's "You Haven't Done Nothin'." I do not beg anyone's forgiveness for continuing to like the music being recorded by the many outstanding musicians and singers whose work from the 1960s and 1970s made them the recording industry icons they continue to be today. It's a comfort zone I admit that I am reluctant to stray from. Keith Urban and Darius Rucker are both in their early forties, Seal now in his mid-forties, with the majority of my other favorite recording artists now collecting Social Security and flashing AARP cards for discounts. But, in The World According To Gup, Tracy Gupton will continue to dish out the greenbacks only for the CD's I know I will reap repetitive pleasure from listening to, over and over and over again. The year 2010 will pass from month to month to month, just like every other year since I started buying records, 8-tracks, cassettes and now CD's, with me impatiently awaiting the releases of new material from the large assortment of singers whose talents have sated my desire for musical enjoyment over the past five decades. I'm well aware that my Top 10 of the best music recorded in 2009 will vary greatly from those lists released by so-called "music experts" and few, if any of my favorites, will be honored at Sunday night's Grammy Awards. But, in The World According To Gup, (this is what makes it so wonderful) only one opinion really matters . . . mine!</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-45071987768067438572010-01-25T15:52:00.010-06:002010-01-25T23:03:51.658-06:00Sunday's AFC Championship Game Sparked Old Memories<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZp6vjll4-sT12i1FUksfqYo-PvHjXuUvbjzJ4VZERD8hXqZAEEJnhwmweUraPzL_HPXns8azbc9Xhu1keGCCYwqWQM77-BTCU4JdP4Siqxk2t-98Q2OXd1Ufbt_AGLaCmh4MSg1cK9vtn/s1600-h/Joe+Willie+Namath.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 290px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 338px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430891861761856306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZp6vjll4-sT12i1FUksfqYo-PvHjXuUvbjzJ4VZERD8hXqZAEEJnhwmweUraPzL_HPXns8azbc9Xhu1keGCCYwqWQM77-BTCU4JdP4Siqxk2t-98Q2OXd1Ufbt_AGLaCmh4MSg1cK9vtn/s400/Joe+Willie+Namath.jpg" /></a> On the eve of Sunday's televised matchup in Indianapolis between the Colts and the New York Jets for the AFC championship and a berth in the February 7th Super Bowl, the NFL Network aired a replay of the Super Bowl III battle between the same two teams on Saturday night in its entirety. I was thrilled to get an opportunity to view the January 12, 1969, original telecast that aired on NBC four days after my 12th birthday. Curt Gowdy spoke the name of West Columbia's own Dennis Gaubatz about as many times as he and his TV boothmates Al DeRogatis and Kyle Rote said Joe Namath's name. For those of you reading this who are too young to be aware of the great significance of this particular Super Bowl, played at the conclusion of the 1968 regular season, it ranks among the best of all the Super Bowls simply because the Jets' upset 16-7 victory over the Colts brought the nascent American Football League notoriety and a semblance of equality with the elder, more established National Football League. Namath, pictured at right, completed 17 of 28 passes for 206 yards and was intercepted once in outdueling the Colts and their MVP quarterback Earl Morrall. Gaubatz, who sacked Namath once and had an outstanding game against the Jets, making tackles all over the Orange Bowl playing field from his middle linebacker position, had really come into his own in 1968. Playing in the same league with several of the greatest middle linebackers in NFL history (Dick Butkus of the Bears, Ray Nitschke of the Packers, Tommy Nobis of the Falcons and Lee Roy Jordan of the Cowboys), the young man born in Needville and raised in West Columbia was nothing if not "visible" throughout Super Bowl III. Over the past 40 years I have seen various film clips and still photos from this particular Super Bowl that featured shots of one of the best, if not THE best, football player to ever come out of West Columbia High School. But Saturday night I was able to see for the first time in my life, Super Bowl III on TV from its hopeful beginning (for a diehard Colts fan such as myself) to its very disappointing conclusion. At the time the game was played I did not realize Super Bowl III featured so many players with connections to the Lone Star state. In addition to my fellow West Columbian Dennis Gaubatz, there were 10 other members of the 1968 Colts and Jets who either grew up in Texas or played college football in my home state. Amazingly there were four Texas Longhorns playing for the Jets. Wide receiver George Sauer Jr., whose father George Sauer had played for the Green Bay Packers (winners of the first two Super Bowls) from 1935 to 1937, was Namath's primary passing target in Super Bowl III. The former Longhorn, who was born in Sheboygan, Wisconsin, caught eight passes for 133 yards that day, often beating NFL all-pro cornerback Lenny Lyles on his pass routes. The Jets' Sauer, tight end Pete Lammons, safety Jim Hudson and defensive tackle John Elliott were all members of the University of Texas's 1963 national champions. Hudson, born in Steubenville, Ohio, was the Longhorns' quarterback in 1964 but played in the defensive secondary on coach Darrell Royal's '63 national championship team. Lammons, born in Crockett, Texas, played his high school football at Jacksonville High, while Elliott, the Jets' seventh round draft pick in the 1967 draft, was from Beaumont. And other native Texans playing with West Columbian Gaubatz for Baltimore were defensive end Bubba Smith, born in Orange but playing his high school ball in Beaumont, cornerback Bobby Boyd from Dallas, and safety Jerry Logan from Graham. In addition to those players from UT, other New York Jets who hailed from the great state of Texas were offensive tackle Winston Hill of Joaquin, punter Curley Johnson of Anna, and wide receivers Don Maynard of Crosbyton and Bake Turner of Alpine. Johnson, who played his high school ball in Dallas, went on to play for the University of Houston. Turner played collegiately at Texas Tech and Maynard caught passes for Texas Western College. In addition to stunning the sports world with their win over the highly favored Colts, two members of the Jets savored sweet revenge with New York's Super Bowl III victory. Johnny Sample, who swiped one of three interceptions Earl Morrall threw that day 41 years ago, had played for the Colts when they won the 1958 NFL championship his rookie season. He was released by the Colts after the 1960 season. Winston Hill, who guarded Namath's blind side from his left tackle position in Super Bowl III, had been drafted by the Colts but cut in training camp by Baltimore five years earlier. Both Sample and Hill played huge roles in the Jets' upset victory. Hill, who was an All-American at Texas Southern University, played football at Weldon High School in Gladewater, Texas, where his father was the school principal. The 2009 version of the Jets, coached by a cocky Rex Ryan in his first year at the helm, led Peyton Manning's Colts at halftime Sunday, giving the nation's huge pro football following thoughts that the Super Bowl III upset those Jets pulled off against the Colts of Johnny Unitas's era might be repeated in 2010. But the rally Unitas failed to pull off in 1969 when his coach (Don Shula) inserted Johnny U. into the game in the third quarter, Peyton Manning succeeded in bringing about in this year's AFC championship game. Now Manning and the modern day Colts will face the New Orleans Saints that Peyton and Eli's father Archie Manning used to quarterback back in Morrall, Unitas and Namath's days when this year's Super Bowl is played in the same city (Miami) where Broadway Joe Namath pulled off what was, at that time, probably the biggest upset in pro football playoff history.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf2gsqZo_ZS5BeojFqtJdiGQmO-pOdcLwv_bv0Yo3Xj64GnA37u1uXgZU-Baet_MvxhRQImj9o-FJLxPDVzQdNfrJiQt6vH3XwKD6duADR2-ubLV5IIjCYsz32AlTGDD9Dio3otPfx0ZYg/s1600-h/1965+SI+Cover.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 305px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430840075500708626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf2gsqZo_ZS5BeojFqtJdiGQmO-pOdcLwv_bv0Yo3Xj64GnA37u1uXgZU-Baet_MvxhRQImj9o-FJLxPDVzQdNfrJiQt6vH3XwKD6duADR2-ubLV5IIjCYsz32AlTGDD9Dio3otPfx0ZYg/s400/1965+SI+Cover.jpg" /></a> Super Bowl III was chock full of so many ironies and sidebar stories to go along with the big game itself. A huge underdog comes out on top. Bragging young quarterback gets the best of a pair of veteran QB's with so much more NFL experience. The NFL representative had never lost the Super Bowl to an AFL team before. The list goes on and on. The Super Bowl started out as a highly touted matchup between the champions of the two professional football leagues, the newer American Football League, which had only been in existence since 1960, and the more established pro league, the National Football League. This would be the next-to-last Super Bowl that pitted the champions of the two independent leagues. After the Kansas City Chiefs defeated the Minnesota Vikings in Super Bowl IV the following January--and the Super Bowl series based on the old format would go into the record books with the NFL winning the first two and the AFL taking the last two--the American Football League was incorporated into the National Football League and the two leagues became one entity. Baltimore, Cleveland and Pittsburgh moved from the old NFL into the new American Football Conference to give the NFL's new arrangment two equal 13-team conferences. Prior to that the NFL had 16 teams and the AFL had 10 teams. One of the more prominent sidebars to Super Bowl III involved the coaches. Baltimore head coach Don Shula had played for Jets head coach Weeb Ewbank (pictured below on the sideline with his quarterback Joe Namath during Super Bowl III) when Ewbank was an assistant to Paul Brown with the Cleveland Browns and when Ewbank was the head coach of the Colts. Shula was a cornerback for Cleveland in 1951 and 1952, then patrolled the defensive secondary for Baltimore from 1953 through 1956, before closing out his pro playing career with the Washington Redskins in 1957. Ewbank was the Colts head coach from 1954 through 1962, coaching the Ponies to back-to-back NFL titles in 1958 and 1959. And who would replace Weeb Ewbank as Baltimore's head coach in 1963? None other than Don Shula, who had been the defensive coordinator for the Detroit Lions. Dennis Gaubatz was an 8th round draft choice by the Lions out of LSU in 1963 and was acquired by Shula prior to the start of the 1965 season in a trade for running back Joe Don Looney. So Super Bowl III featured the added drama of the former Colts head coach defeating the current leader of Baltimore's pro football team. And two of the assistant coaches roaming the sidelines in Super Bowl III would leave their respective teams in the weeks after the game to take the reins of two failing pro football franchises. Clive Rush, the offensive coordinator of the '68 Jets, became the new head coach of the Boston Patriots (they hadn't yet started going by New England), while the Colts' defensive coordinator Chuck Noll soon became head coach of the Pittsburgh Steelers. While Rush was unable to turn things around with the Patriots during his brief tenure in Bean Town, Noll rebounded from a disastrous 1-13 first season to win more Super Bowls as a head coach (4) than any other coach in NFL history as the leader of the "Steel Curtain."
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIW8esmm8uYK5EO7qQowOi7LEkCG5ji0zUhBj-usMrC0pIz0F_DFK1UBV9CIZolloZdjslrXlKbv2hmkoFVcY5NJaytTPIlb9dHqIGbDne-tmLXSdlVxFdVA6iuX2zSNCpFCe-FGIP_xqi/s1600-h/Weeb+and+Joe.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430829478964684482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIW8esmm8uYK5EO7qQowOi7LEkCG5ji0zUhBj-usMrC0pIz0F_DFK1UBV9CIZolloZdjslrXlKbv2hmkoFVcY5NJaytTPIlb9dHqIGbDne-tmLXSdlVxFdVA6iuX2zSNCpFCe-FGIP_xqi/s400/Weeb+and+Joe.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gEjJdm16Ud1hYPHuLOqPE0GQp875L0KTkMVNDzmio3cArpotXXG4ZK12R0dSIPctr0m-KJdtPMmO1nN6pHiRa3yMw7o4WIs1U_iseisbJkfHsqH7M5V7IN-jLcNI03GeGCY5IpNMxnbT/s1600-h/Fishing+With+Omer.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 347px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430829173615026914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg1gEjJdm16Ud1hYPHuLOqPE0GQp875L0KTkMVNDzmio3cArpotXXG4ZK12R0dSIPctr0m-KJdtPMmO1nN6pHiRa3yMw7o4WIs1U_iseisbJkfHsqH7M5V7IN-jLcNI03GeGCY5IpNMxnbT/s400/Fishing+With+Omer.jpg" /></a>
<div>My grandmother, Pauline Giesler, gave 8-by-10 autographed photos of Dennis Gaubatz to my brother Cody and I sometime in 1967 or 1968. I can still recall showing off my 8-by-10 glossy of the LSU Tiger great who had played professionally for both the Detroit Lions and Baltimore Colts in my three-ring binder with the see-through plastic cover when I started junior high school in West Columbia. I proudly displayed Gaubatz's autographed photo on my notebook when I walked the same halls at West Columbia Junior High School that the Colts middle linebacker had walked when he went to school in my hometown. The new high school that I would later attend in West Columbia was not constructed until the early 1960s, so the junior high I went through seventh and eighth grades in served as the high school for Dennis Gaubatz and other West Columbia and Brazoria area students in the late 1950s. As a teenager Dennis spent a lot of time at my grandmother's home in East Columbia where he would go fishing and alligator hunting with my mother's brother, Howard Giesler. And after his pro football career was over, Dennis became fishing buddies with the man who would later be my father-in-law, my wife Peggy's dad Omer Hall. The photo above was more than likely taken by my father-in-law when he and Dennis caught a lot of fish on one of their many outings in Omer's boat. In recent years Dennis Gaubatz has become a good friend of my cousin, Billy Gupton, and the two of them do a lot of wild hog hunting on the P.L Gupton Estate property that runs along the banks of the San Bernard River near West Columbia. When I was a kid my grandmother asked Dennis's wife if she would have her husband sign a few photographs of himself for her grandsons. I still have that autographed photo all these many years later and display it on a wall in my home where it sits inside a frame given to me for Christmas one year by my son Brian, along with autographed Sports Illustrated covers that Dennis Gaubatz adorned during his pro football days. The gifts of autographed photos and magazines from my grandmother, son and my wife were among the best presents I have ever received, and I would like to express my gratitude to not only the beloved family members who presented them to me, but especially to the former Super Bowl participant who signed them. Thanks a million, Dennis, and happy 70th birthday in a couple weeks. You are the greatest and will always be a "champion" in my eyes!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZc0pC0WA7JvxTNUXyrrRX0hbqPH_OblgNvlKu56bhqoUB2JryoVbCRFwV9othXpAOrZgDrNdM5wdqFnIHyxNbYWplQcta-QKZyJHkEskcu_36Zc5kanQ2BjQRi1SjG9SAKGxTSg9aazJg/s1600-h/Broadway+Joe.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 338px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430824655654673346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZc0pC0WA7JvxTNUXyrrRX0hbqPH_OblgNvlKu56bhqoUB2JryoVbCRFwV9othXpAOrZgDrNdM5wdqFnIHyxNbYWplQcta-QKZyJHkEskcu_36Zc5kanQ2BjQRi1SjG9SAKGxTSg9aazJg/s400/Broadway+Joe.jpg" /></a>
<div>Fullback Matt Snell, who like the Colts star running back Tom Matte was a former Ohio State University product, is shown below dodging the tackle of Baltimore middle linebacker Dennis Gaubatz. Joe Namath was named the game's most valuable player after leading the New York Jets to a huge upset of the NFL champion Baltimore Colts, but many thought Snell should have been awarded the MVP trophy. Snell scored the Jets only touchdown in Super Bowl III on a 4-yard run in the second quarter. Film footage of Snell's successful sweep to the left where former Columbia Roughnecks linebacker Dennis Gaubatz is shown diving at Snell's legs as he crosses the goal line continues to be shown on television each and every year when the Super Bowl comes around. I keep telling myself as I view my fellow West Columbian on TV with each repeated showing of the famous Jets touchdown run, one of these times Dennis is going to make that tackle . . . but it never happens. Deja vu all over again! Snell carried the ball 30 times for 121 yards and that lone Jets touchdown in Super Bowl III. His fellow former Ohio State Buckeye Matte had an outstanding Super Bowl for the Colts as well, picking up 116 yards on 11 carries and catching two passes for 30 yards in the Baltimore loss. Matte even completed a pass in what has gone down in history as the one play in Super Bowl III that should have sent the two teams into the locker rooms at halftime tied at 7-7. On that particular play Colts quarterback Earl Morrall tossed a short pass to Matte in the flat to the right, Matte then caught the Jets' defense off guard by passing the ball back to Morrall who fired an errant pass downfield over the middle to fullback Jerry Hill. Jets' safety Jim Hudson (the former Texas Longhorns quarterback) intercepted the pass from Morrall as the final seconds of the first half ticked harmlessly off the clock and New York took their 7-0 lead into the second half. On this unforgettable play Colts wide receiver Jimmy Orr was wide open near the end zone without a Jets defender anywhere near him . . . but Morrall claims he never saw Orr when he threw the interception. NFL films of this Super Bowl, which remains the most memorable pro football game of my lifetime, show Orr waving his arms around the 5-yard line in an unsuccessful attempt to get his quarterback's attention. Colts center Bill Curry, who would later play for the Houston Oilers, said he could see Orr waving his arms while Curry was blocking for Morrall and to this day does not know why Earl threw the ball to Hill instead of Orr. Curry said that the Colts used this same play against the Atlanta Falcons during the regular season and Orr was then, like he was supposed to be on the play right before halftime in Super Bowl III, the primary target. Curry said Orr scored a touchdown against the Falcons on that same play when Morrall found Orr all alone in the end zone against Atlanta. But on this particular day in pro football lore, things just seemed to all go the New York Jets' way.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXgKgDE-xCibfboD2VrP-FuvsfSaEpSi7yWvMbEqjBH-DpsBTomkxHrp-5XJykL0y18nRlVrmLypxfQRNa4SjRw1EFkfN3Bz8e4_5peT4QcDhsNFWL8j69k2Ov7ph4TFD5XGciU1AlbCs/s1600-h/Matt+and+Dennis.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 338px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430818914734615474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhsXgKgDE-xCibfboD2VrP-FuvsfSaEpSi7yWvMbEqjBH-DpsBTomkxHrp-5XJykL0y18nRlVrmLypxfQRNa4SjRw1EFkfN3Bz8e4_5peT4QcDhsNFWL8j69k2Ov7ph4TFD5XGciU1AlbCs/s400/Matt+and+Dennis.jpg" /></a>
<div>Offensive linemen Dave Herman (67) and John Schmitt (at left) attempt to keep Colts defensive linemen Fred Miller (76) and Bubba Smith (78) off of their superstar quarterback Joe Namath (12) in the photo below, taken during Super Bowl III on January 12, 1969, in Miami's Orange Bowl. The Colts' defense, which featured a West Columbian at middle linebacker, was eager to dish out a surplus of punishment on the Jets' outspoken signal caller in the third Super Bowl. He had not only predicted a Jets victory that day 41 years ago, but had "guaranteed" it in several interviews he gave the press in the days leading up to the big game. The Green Bay Packers of legendary NFL head coach Vince Lombardi (whose name is now emblazoned on the trophy presented to each year's Super Bowl winner) handily won the first two Super Bowls over AFL champs Kansas City in Super Bowl I and Oakland in Super Bowl II. Earl Morrall, who like Dennis Gaubatz had played for the Detroit Lions before joining the Colts, was the NFL's most valuable player in 1968, when he replaced an injured Johnny Unitas and quarterbacked the Colts to an outstanding 13-1 season. But Namath had quipped that there were at least five quarterbacks in the American Football League who were better than the NFL's MVP. Bear Bryant's former quarterback at Alabama, Namath was the highest paid player in pro football at the time, and the darling of New York City sports fans. His outlandish remarks to the media in the week leading up to the Super Bowl, which included bragging that both he and his Jets backup quarterback Babe Parilli (along with the Dolphins Bob Griese, the Raiders Daryle Lamonica and the Chiefs Lynn Dawson) were better than the Colts starting quarterback Earl Morrall, led Jets head coach Weeb Ewbank to remark that he "wanted to kill" Namath for popping off to the press. But Namath engineered one of the biggest upsets in American sports history and the Jets' defense made both Morrall and Unitas look like just about every AFL quarterback appear to be better than them based on the performance of the two Colts QB's who appeared in Super Bowl III. How did a team that went 13-1 on the season and embarrassed the Cleveland Browns 34-0 in front of their home crowd in the NFL championship game the week before let the AFL's representative notch their first victory in the Super Bowl? Was it fate that allowed Namath's Jets to come out victorious against Morrall and Unitas's mighty Colts? More likely it was simply that the Jets were the better team on this one particular day in early 1969. Many of the Colts players, including the former Roughneck standout Gaubatz, have said that if the 1968 Colts played the 1968 Jets 10 times, the Colts would more than likely win eight or nine of those games. But the only game that mattered is the one that was played the day Joe Willie Namath and his teammates backed up the big mouth of the pride of Beaver Falls, Pennsylvania. And that was the same game that broke the hearts of so many of my West Columbia neighbors and huge supporters of their hometown hero. </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XmCzB8thINPkmkz0RNODQ9vV7DoaKMHYY9B02wR5IFDT_aIzFsdx2uJse0cpz2DKhZlxU-dHO6D-niueo2yARhhgVKfJXrFlogaJaj6bCcdhW1rfab2R-QJMDSSxfx5QhdM7wQsbH-at/s1600-h/The+Colts+Rush.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430812366990306162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2XmCzB8thINPkmkz0RNODQ9vV7DoaKMHYY9B02wR5IFDT_aIzFsdx2uJse0cpz2DKhZlxU-dHO6D-niueo2yARhhgVKfJXrFlogaJaj6bCcdhW1rfab2R-QJMDSSxfx5QhdM7wQsbH-at/s400/The+Colts+Rush.jpg" /></a>
<div>Because my fellow West Columbian Dennis Gaubatz was the starting middle linebacker for the Baltimore Colts in the 1960s, I obviously was riding on the Colts' bandwagon when they lined up against the AFL Champion New York Jets on January 12, 1969, in the third installment of the Super Bowl. But after that historical upset engineered by former Alabama Crimson Tide quarterback Joe Willie Namath against my beloved Colts, I became, as did thousands and thousands of other football fans across America, a huge fan of Broadway Joe's. Several large posters of Joe Namath adorned my bedroom walls when I was a teenager. They shared wall space with Cheryl Tiegs, Farrah Fawcett, Roman Gabriel and Bruce Lee. Dennis would only play one more season with the Colts, opting to retire at the end of the 1969 season when Don Shula moved Mike Curtis from his outside linebacker position to Gaubatz's middle linebacker spot and relegated the former Roughnecks great to the Colts' bench. So, a couple years removed from their first Super Bowl appearance, I was pulling whole heartedly for the Dallas Cowboys when they took on the Baltimore Colts in Super Bowl V. This time, with my childhood hero Dennis Gaubatz in retirement and Don Shula now coaching in Miami, the Colts defeated my Cowboys on a last second Jim O'Brien field goal in the fifth installment of the Super Bowl. Tom Landry's Cowboys would return to the Super Bowl the very next year though and defeat Shula's Dolphins at the conclusion of the 1972 season. Bubba Smith, the Colts' All-Pro defensive end who would later star in several "Police Academy" movies when his gridiron days were over, is pictured below putting pressure on Joe Namath in Super Bowl III. Bubba, who was born in Orange and played high school football in Beaumont, was just one of many native Texans who appeared in Super Bowl III.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ry5iQXni0kcofDc3wW9_2khbUz6UwyxYSCmu_1qulWVEqEjAgYW5l8-EEvZ3sdJXFxVzV9shRooLSkPFZ6LHJpXJB9yMX_PlH3N-ZeRJdkHzvBA2buD5hTKr9PAmTx0J9OzJnijSRS_J/s1600-h/Avoiding+The+Rush.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 225px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430808446949465058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-Ry5iQXni0kcofDc3wW9_2khbUz6UwyxYSCmu_1qulWVEqEjAgYW5l8-EEvZ3sdJXFxVzV9shRooLSkPFZ6LHJpXJB9yMX_PlH3N-ZeRJdkHzvBA2buD5hTKr9PAmTx0J9OzJnijSRS_J/s400/Avoiding+The+Rush.jpg" /></a>
<div>I vaguely recall that when the game was actually being played, my brother Cody and I spent a great deal of time in the front yard throwing the football around. Our dad would step out the front door occasionally throughout the game and give us updates, informing us that the Colts were getting embarrassed by that loud mouth longhair Namath and the rest of the Jets. Reflecting on it now, I can't believe Cody and I were not glued to the floor in front of our old black and white Zenith TV set for all four quarters of Super Bowl III. Here it was, the biggest pro football game of our young lives, featuring the only Columbia Roughnecks player (at the time) to ever appear in a Super Bowl, and we are outside playing football in the front yard. But hey, I was only 12 at the time and being outdoors usually won out over being inside the house 99 percent of the time back in those days. Charley Johnson, who was the Roughnecks' MVP as a senior two-way starter on Columbia's state championship runner-up team in 1969 (the season after Gaubatz appeared in the Super Bowl), would be the second Roughnecks player to appear in a Super Bowl eleven years later. Johnson, who played collegiately at Colorado after a stint in the Army, was the starting nose tackle for the Philadelphia Eagles when they lost to Jim Plunkett and the Oakland Raiders in the 1980 Super Bowl. Ron Jaworski, who is now one of the color commentators on ESPN's "Monday Night Football" telecasts, was the Eagles quarterback when Charley Johnson was an All-Pro defensive lineman for Philadelphia. Another Roughnecks standout football player, James Ray Smith, who was an All-American offensive lineman at Baylor University, played for the Cleveland Browns in the 1957 NFL championship game but that was long before the Super Bowl came along. Unfortunately, like his two fellow former Columbia Roughnecks players in their Super Bowl appearances, Smith and the Browns failed to win in his only NFL championship game appearance. The Browns, coached by the legendary Paul Brown, played in five NFL championship games in the 1950s. Cleveland won back-to-back league titles in 1954 and 1955, but James Ray Smith of West Columbia did not join the Browns until his rookie season in 1956. The Detroit Lions whipped the Browns 59-14 in the 1957 NFL championship game. That was the same year Dennis Gaubatz was leading the Roughnecks to a district championship and a successful run deep into the postseason playoffs in his senior year at the West Columbia high school.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZB8VF6x9UfG8gMHh8EeEzEv-tKPIDEFYgTraw69EpmFWG7NvoMWPYjSYAyPPAZUcJsB43pPpVDTQVGKz1zhYKA1VAw9TyC2XCR6oGcxmreTNlXcTsl8pwbJ7IJfHS0_TZbjTnft0HE_b/s1600-h/'68+Colts+Defense.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 311px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5430802239697244594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAZB8VF6x9UfG8gMHh8EeEzEv-tKPIDEFYgTraw69EpmFWG7NvoMWPYjSYAyPPAZUcJsB43pPpVDTQVGKz1zhYKA1VAw9TyC2XCR6oGcxmreTNlXcTsl8pwbJ7IJfHS0_TZbjTnft0HE_b/s400/'68+Colts+Defense.jpg" /></a>
<div>1958 West Columbia High School grad Dennis Earl Gaubatz was the vocal leader of the 1968 NFL champion Baltimore Colts' record-setting defensive unit, barking out coverages from his middle linebacker position in Super Bowl III. The New York Jets upset the highly favored Colts, 16-7, in the Orange Bowl in Miami, Florida, on January 12, 1969. The Colts defense set a new NFL record for allowing the fewest points scored against them (144) in the 1968 season, but their impressive 13-1 record and 34-0 victory over the Browns in Cleveland in the '68 NFL championship game was marred by their heartbreaking loss to Broadway Joe Namath's Jets in the third Super Bowl. Gaubatz, who will be celebrating his 70th birthday on February 11th, still lives in West Columbia. He is pictured above in the center of the photograph that appeared in Sports Illustrated during the Colts' outstanding 1968 season. The defensive line was comprised of, from left, Ordell Braase (81), Fred Miller (76), Billy Ray Smith (74) and Bubba Smith (78). The linebackers were, from left, Don Shinnick (66), Dennis Gaubatz (53) and Mike Curtis (32). Roaming the defensive secondary for the Colts in '68 were, from left, Lenny Lyles (43), Rick Volk (21), Jerry Logan (20) and Bobby Boyd (40).</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-82256194661856495722010-01-19T20:53:00.005-06:002010-01-20T00:31:08.903-06:00Losing Was Foreign To Pair Of Texas Gridiron Greats<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KdZdkyvwiG3WTEKksj6JFZLt_9qCvR07weC2xENOSiDVvsSjgwlVEFz5P4sw-dbVbw1YxuNwVN4LKsvOyoIGj9lDPdv-U3NQ_ceVMuIAOrHQLyhCK4g07bQJkVjI1pZuspHe5Aq3zrOf/s1600-h/Jerry+Tubbs.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 348px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428686773434771090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_KdZdkyvwiG3WTEKksj6JFZLt_9qCvR07weC2xENOSiDVvsSjgwlVEFz5P4sw-dbVbw1YxuNwVN4LKsvOyoIGj9lDPdv-U3NQ_ceVMuIAOrHQLyhCK4g07bQJkVjI1pZuspHe5Aq3zrOf/s400/Jerry+Tubbs.jpg" /></a>
<div>I didn't know it at the time, but among the Dallas Cowboys and Green Bay Packers players who performed before my eyes on the Cotton Bowl turf in Dallas, Texas, in August of 1966 was a man embarking on his final season as a pro football player who had achieved an extremely rare feat in gridiron lore. When Alabama's Crimson Tide watched the final seconds tick off the clock at the Rose Bowl in Pasadena, California, a couple weeks ago their junior quarterback Greg McElroy dodged the bullet yet again, keeping his impressive string alive. Both McElroy and Jerry Tubbs, two Texas high school football legends whose careers are separated by over 50 years, never lost a game as high school and college participants. A rare bragging right indeed! </div>
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<div>The late Lloyd Brandt, who was married to my cousin Dolores Gupton Brandt at the time, took me and his son Ace to a Dallas Cowboys preseason game near the end of the summer of 1966, when I was preparing to begin my fourth grade year of my elementary education. That memorable Cowboys-Packers exhibition game (as preseason games were called in those days) featured a pair of great NFL quarterbacks from the mid-sixties, "Dandy" Don Meredith of the Cowboys and Hall of Famer Bart Starr of the Packers. I was only nine years old when Lloyd took Ace and I to what was the first professional football game I ever attended. I still have the program from that game played 44 years ago, back when the DALLAS Cowboys still played their games in DALLAS. My cousins Ace and Cindy Brandt used to visit West Columbia frequently when we were all children. Their grandparents, Thurman and Gladys Gupton, lived across the street from the junior high school in West Columbia. Thurman was my father Rex Gupton's older brother and Dolores, Thurman and Gladys's daughter who everyone calls "DoDo," is my first cousin and my dad's niece. So I always looked forward to Lloyd and Dolores bringing their kids to West Columbia for visits because when Ace and Cindy (who is one month younger than me) were in town that usually meant that my brother Cody (who is one year older than Ace) and I got to spend time at Uncle Thurman and Aunt Gladys's house to play with Ace and Cindy. The Brandts lived in Fort Worth back in the 1960s and I always wanted to go to Fort Worth with my cousins to see what life was like in the big city. I finally got my wish near the end of the summer of 1966 when I was allowed to stay with Lloyd and Dolores and their children for a week in August. And the Dallas Cowboys' preseason game against Vince Lombardi's Packers was the highlight of that summer trip to Fort Worth so many, many years ago.</div>
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<div>I had a Jerry Tubbs football card at the time so I knew who he was when I watched him play in person at the Cotton Bowl in 1966. My brother and I collected trading cards when we were kids so I was familiar with a number of the pro football players who took the field that day in Dallas. Don Meredith , Bullet Bob Hays, Mel Renfro and Don Perkins were among my favorite Cowboys players from that era. And there were too many Packers greats to even begin to mention. This was the time the Packers were winning the first two Super Bowls and squeaking by the Cowboys in the famous "Ice Bowl" in Green Bay. Bart Starr, who scored the winning touchdown on a quarterback sneak in that '66 NFL championship game played "on the frozen tundra of Lambeau Field " and was the MVP of that historical first Super Bowl, could hand the ball off to super star running backs Paul Hornung and Jim Taylor and throw passes to Boyd Dowler and Carroll Dale and tight end Marv Fleming. But I really don't remember much about that game at all, just being there. I wouldn't attend another pro football game until I was middle-aged and got to see Peyton Manning attempt to break Dan Marino's single season touchdown passes record at Reliant Stadium against the Houston Texans. Peyton, the son of the man (Archie Manning) whose poster as the New Orleans Saints quarterback adorned my bedroom wall when I was a teenager, needed four or five TD passes that Sunday to break Marino's record. I went to that game with my brother Cody, and Peyton threw a touchdown pass while Cody and I were walking into the stadium. As we were finding our seats (in the nosebleed section in the highest part of Reliant Stadium) another Colts' receiver caught a touchdown pass from the four-time NFL most valuable player. Cody and I thought we were going to be present to witness NFL history being made. But Peyton failed to throw another touchdown pass that day, David Carr rallied the Texans to a second half resurgence, before the Colts pulled out a nailbiter and won. The following weekend erasers were applied to the record books as Peyton Manning passed Dan Marino for the most touchdown passes thrown in a single season. "Missed it by that much!" as Maxwell Smart used to say.</div>
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<div>But I was there to see the great linebacker Jerry Tubbs play one game in his final season with the Dallas Cowboys. This Saturday Jerry will be celebrating his 75th birthday. Only recently, though, did I find out that Tubbs, who coached for the Cowboys for more than 20 years when his playing days ended, had never lost a game in high school or college back in the 1950s. Amazing! This may not be that unusual; perhaps someone out there reading this blog will inform me of others who have done the same thing. But it came to my attention when I was watching Alabama whip the Florida Gators on television in the SEC championship game that Alabama's quarterback had not lost a game in high school or college as a starting quarterback. Wondering to myself if this was something that very rarely happened, I stumbled upon Jerry Tubbs' remarkable story of success in his pre-NFL football career. And my home state of Texas figures prominently in both of these men's stories.</div>
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<div>Jerry Tubbs played center and linebacker on back-to-back state championship teams for Breckenridge High School in 1951 and 1952. He played in three high school All-Star games and was a unanimous Texas All-State selection in 1952. In 1971 Tubbs was inducted into the Texas High School Football Hall of Fame and, since 2008, the Breckenridge Buckaroos open their football season playing the annual Jerry Tubbs Kick Off Classic. Cooper Robbins coached Breckenridge to a state championship in 1951, then moved on to the college coaching ranks. In his senior season, Tubbs played under new head coach Joe Kerbel who would also move on to coach in college several years after the Buckaroos won their second consecutive state title.</div>
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<div>Breckenridge's winning tradition in football reached back to the oil boom era in the late 1920s. P.E. Shotwell, who coached the Buckaroos from 1927-34, guided Breckenridge High School to the state finals in 1929, where they tied Port Arthur Jefferson in a scoreless battle in the snow in Waco. Despite Breckenridge's declining population as the oil boom faded, the Buckaroos still played some of the largest schools in West Central Texas. With an enrollment of less than 400 students during the 1950s, the Buckaroos usually fielded teams comprised of about 30 players. Yet, during the fifties Breckenridge formed a true dynasty under head coaches Cooper Robbins (1945-51), Joe Kerbel (1952-54) and Emory Bellard (1955-59), who would go on to serve a memorable tenure as Texas A&M's head coach. Breckenridge appeared in five Class 3A state championship games in the fifties, winning four times in 1951, 1952, 1954 and 1958, and tying Cleburne for the state title in 1959.</div>
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<div>Like the Crimson Tide's current quarterback, Jerry Tubbs never lost a varsity football game in high school. He went on to play three years at the University of Oklahoma and the Sooners won all 31 games Tubbs played in. He was a fullback in 1954 and averaged six yards a carry. Oklahoma's legendary head coach Bud Wilkinson moved Tubbs to center in 1955, and this became his signature position in college. He also played linebacker and in a victory over Texas in 1955 he intercepted three passes. In 1956 Tubbs was a unanimous All-American choice as a center and was named "Lineman of the Year." The former Breckenridge High School standout finished fourth in the 1956 Heisman Trophy voting, behind his second place Oklahoma teammate Tommy McDonald and the winner, Paul Hornung of Notre Dame. It is very rare for an offensive lineman to rank as high in the Heisman voting as Tubbs did in 1956.</div>
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<div>During his three years of college football, Tubbs' Oklahoma Sooners' teams finished 10-0 in 1954, 11-0 in 1955, and 10-0 in 1956. The 31 victories the Sooners chalked up with Jerry Tubbs on their roster were part of that legendary 47-game winning streak and two national titles from 1954-56. The 1954 Oklahoma team was ranked third nationally in the Associated Press and United Press polls. The 1955 and 1956 Sooners teams were back-to-back national champions.</div>
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<div>Jerry Tubbs, who was the tenth player taken in the first round of the 1957 NFL draft, played for the Chicago Cardinals his first two seasons as a pro. He was a member of the San Francisco 49ers in 1958 and 1959 before returning to his native Texas as one of the first players taken by the new Dallas Cowboys in the 1960 expansion draft. Tubbs played in his only Pro Bowl in 1962 when he was a linebacker for the Cowboys. As all good things must eventually come to an end, Jerry's long string of consecutive victories in high school and college did not carry over to his professional career. As the first round draft choice of the Chicago Cardinals--the NFL franchise that now plays in Arizona and called St. Louis home prior to the move to Phoenix--Tubbs found himself on a perennial loser. He was traded to San Francisco by the Cardinals near the end of his second season and was moved back to middle linebacker (the position he played in college) by the 49ers in 1959 after playing out of his preferred position at outside linebacker his first two seasons in the NFL. </div>
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<div>Jerry became one of the premier middle linebackers in the NFL after joining the Cowboys and enjoyed a successful tenure in that role in Dallas until Alabama product Lee Roy Jordan was drafted by Tom Landry in the mid-1960s, and Tubbs was relegated to a reserve role for a couple seasons before retiring. In 1966 Tubbs was working for the Dallas Federal Savings and Loan Association when Coach Landry lured him back for one more season as insurance in the event Jordan should be injured. He played just the first three games of the '66 season until a back injury closed the books on Jerry Tubbs' pro football career. </div>
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<div>He was inducted into the College Football Hall of Fame in 1996 and was inducted into the Oklahoma Sports Hall of Fame in 1999. </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7DUUUTDdzDFaW7Nxvg95oW2-YNhMWqlnTqRSo97reFBqdK5TEdmcd84hyphenhyphenMjw2KSy5NHrmVxUlBJwpTDgvVL1KOd2FhJQQuMhPEHmlVq14K7dEaZc-4MwLFTyUr1StFdCViApFd0Ud7hL2/s1600-h/Greg+McElroy.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 105px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 145px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428662217476185026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7DUUUTDdzDFaW7Nxvg95oW2-YNhMWqlnTqRSo97reFBqdK5TEdmcd84hyphenhyphenMjw2KSy5NHrmVxUlBJwpTDgvVL1KOd2FhJQQuMhPEHmlVq14K7dEaZc-4MwLFTyUr1StFdCViApFd0Ud7hL2/s400/Greg+McElroy.jpg" /></a>
<div>McElroy did not get the opportunity to shine under the Friday night lights at Southlake Carroll High School in Texas until his senior year. The quarterback who started ahead of him his sophomore and junior seasons was none other than Chase Daniel, the 2004 National High School Player of the Year who went on to star in college football at Missouri. But McElroy, whose exploits on the gridiron his senior year at Southlake Carroll will not be forgotten any time soon, earned Offensive Player of the Year honors in Texas. He set a new Texas high school record for touchdown passes in a single season when he threw 56 in 2005.</div>
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<div>Greg racked up 4,687 aerial yards with his record 56 touchdowns and only 9 interceptions in his one year as Carroll's starting signal caller. He proved lethal running with the pigskin as well in '05, gaining 700 yards and scoring 12 touchdowns on the ground while completing 321 of 450 passes while leading his high school to its third state title in four years.</div>
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<div>McElroy, who completed only six of 11 passes for 58 yards and no touchdowns in Alabama's January 7th national championship victory over the Longhorns, was much more active in the passing game for Southlake Carroll in winning the Class 5A state championship by defeating Katy High School in 2005. Greg completed an amazing 21 of 31 pass attempts for a whopping 328 yards and four touchdowns through the air against the Katy Tigers, earning him the MVP trophy in the 2005 state championship game.</div>
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<div>Jerry Tubbs, who was born January 23, 1935, in Throckmorton, Texas, is pictured below at left in a 1967 photo with Dallas Cowboys' defensive linemen George Andrie (66) and Bob Lilly. Tubbs became an assistant coach under Tom Landry with the Cowboys in 1967 after ending his 10-year NFL career as a linebacker at the conclusion of the previous season. Tubbs was the linebackers coach for the Cowboys for 21 years. He coached in five Super Bowls with Dallas, winning two.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkh5L4VrOKWgk6TsFg53wk1rZDq8bu34nxR-fb9DwrZ36A1KYJK5UFNrN9YCy1Uh-l8lsHnlWkWYa4BKdM4jrbVmTYnRvuQ-bHbJoFb_G6UqD0DyoqT0eRkguckz-NKscXrGUPwy2MdtHx/s1600-h/Lilly+%26+Tubbs.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 291px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5428654779324839746" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgkh5L4VrOKWgk6TsFg53wk1rZDq8bu34nxR-fb9DwrZ36A1KYJK5UFNrN9YCy1Uh-l8lsHnlWkWYa4BKdM4jrbVmTYnRvuQ-bHbJoFb_G6UqD0DyoqT0eRkguckz-NKscXrGUPwy2MdtHx/s400/Lilly+%26+Tubbs.jpg" /></a>
<div>The overwhelming success experienced by Southlake Carroll in recent years and Breckenridge High School in the 1950s creates dreams of envy for Texas high school football fans like yours truly, who has been a diehard Columbia Roughnecks backer since the 1960s. I was in attendance when the Roughnecks lost to Brownwood in the 1969 Class 3A state championship game. In fact, as a 12-year-old seventh grader that magnificent football season when my hometown team came oh so very close to winning a state championship, I attended every playoff game the Roughnecks participated in that season with my parents and siblings. I've also backed the other great teams of my alma mater's past that advanced several rounds deep in the postseason but, with each of those playoff runs, Columbia always seemed to go head-to-head with an opponent that was just a little bit better than us. The Jerry Tubbs and Greg McElroys of the world are so few and so very far between that such extremely lucky athletes are truly in an elite group that can boast for the rest of their lives that they never lost a game in high school or college football. McElroy has another year of eligibility as Alabama's starting quarterback, so the probability of the former Southlake Carroll standout matching Tubbs' remarkable feat throughout his college career is not very likely. But stranger things have happened and the Crimson Tide has as good a chance as any college football program to go undefeated in 2010. With an offensive attack led by a Heisman trophy winning running back (Mark Ingram) and a quarterback who has never lost in high school or college, I'd say that's a very good start.</div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-88070865538167396702010-01-08T14:56:00.012-06:002010-01-08T16:09:04.260-06:00Life's Been Good To Me So Far<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDcNKXgn9Uw2en-tZdBT0K-sxgnzRR-hVRBivpW4eNomaiKbShe0gu_nj6hY_8cPr_aaExbdND5-QY0bzQcI_CzhUfDkz8Zv3Hon2YY8igKaRvz4OVnOag-dEywOCkPwixVXF_TxfJuxO/s1600-h/First+Birthday.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 380px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424494415388963346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipDcNKXgn9Uw2en-tZdBT0K-sxgnzRR-hVRBivpW4eNomaiKbShe0gu_nj6hY_8cPr_aaExbdND5-QY0bzQcI_CzhUfDkz8Zv3Hon2YY8igKaRvz4OVnOag-dEywOCkPwixVXF_TxfJuxO/s400/First+Birthday.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7anaEdW5oLGA_lrRXuSZzsXxPeJyZc8LlqHhY1nNRdUDurG7u5JfiGoiG8bWKeBy5_WzuJGJbrbOj-3xXcfZzjWzxbELDWrfYK0_wBmxgPDvwaVOCj0tlRSWsuDnfZm4iSufHfgF7chys/s1600-h/At+4+weeks.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 237px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424494262603152802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj7anaEdW5oLGA_lrRXuSZzsXxPeJyZc8LlqHhY1nNRdUDurG7u5JfiGoiG8bWKeBy5_WzuJGJbrbOj-3xXcfZzjWzxbELDWrfYK0_wBmxgPDvwaVOCj0tlRSWsuDnfZm4iSufHfgF7chys/s400/At+4+weeks.jpg" /></a>
<div>January 8, 1958, was the date the photo above was taken. That's me, Robert Tracy Gupton, on my very first birthday. Today, in 2010, I am celebrating my 53rd. Happy Birthday to me! Those are my dad's hands preventing me from damaging the birthday cake with the one lonely candle on it, so that my mother can get her picture before Daddy lets me dig into my Mama's masterpiece. It's been a long and rocky road I've traveled to get from January 8, 1957, to January 8, 2010. You could count on one hand the towns I've lived in throughout my lifetime (Markham, West Columbia, Lake Jackson, Clute and Huntsville) and my worldly travels have taken me outside the boundaries of the Lone Star State only a few times. I've been married to my childhood sweetheart for almost 30 years. Today is no different than practically every other day over the past 28 years. Our sons have been the most important part of my life, and will continue to be so until I'm dropped into my eternal resting place. Grandkids are pretty neat too. What has changed the most due to the passage of time is my appearance. I can't see that I have changed much on the inside or in the way I think and approach life in general. I'm keeping my fingers crossed I will be lucky enough to still be around well into my 80s or even my 90s, but fate may have other ideas when it comes to my longevity. I don't drink much, never smoked, stay out of bars and places I shouldn't be, so unless the ol' ticker gives out on me prematurely or I step in front of a speeding train or vehicle, odds are I'm not calling it quits anytime soon. Though the outer shell is definitely showing more than its share of wear and tear, and I'm definitely slowing down more than a little, age to me is really only a number. And I've finally reached the number my childhood hero, Dennis Gaubatz, wore on his Detroit Lions and Baltimore Colts' jersey . . . 53. I also like the Texans' Mario Williams a lot too. He wears number 90. So from here on out I will be trying to reach the same age as Super Mario's uniform number. Wish me luck on my journey, while taking a gander at a few of my baby pictures. The one above is taken with the woman I owe my life to, my beloved mother Verna Mae Giesler Gupton. I sure do miss you Mama! </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNIRRwyxpCzGP2eNdAH3RXpW4LR2irqezUFGuZUJVlqnLEFTxFS1FgQ5neDdoRSouQcpKWPwEDMLpPaCuiXXON_vYRU6SE1GSXsKy05F6sz8fT5sv8VxV2wECR2wxTWZH5R0AbyS_wht6/s1600-h/Baby+Tracy.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 289px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424489020913465490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjiNIRRwyxpCzGP2eNdAH3RXpW4LR2irqezUFGuZUJVlqnLEFTxFS1FgQ5neDdoRSouQcpKWPwEDMLpPaCuiXXON_vYRU6SE1GSXsKy05F6sz8fT5sv8VxV2wECR2wxTWZH5R0AbyS_wht6/s400/Baby+Tracy.jpg" /></a>
<div>The photos above and below represent a couple of firsts for me. I presume the photo above was the first time my mother took me to a professional photographer for some snapshots. The phrase, "Your mother dresses you funny," definitely applied in this instance. I guess it was because my father had served in the U.S. Navy during World War II that Verna Mae got the idea to dress her new baby boy in a sailor outfit for his studio posing debut. My big brother wore a bow tie and a checked shirt at this photo shoot. I also have pictures of me and him together from this same sitting. And the photo below is most likely my first porno opportunity, baring the ol' naked backside for Mama's camera. Pretty sexy, huh? Now I have about the same amount of hair as I did over 52 years ago.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbkkwJC9vPtcSUPFWO0lwIrh02FrzJjCkeZ6M2CG-WNJkkbK7Wahb8nt6nakx4MKtzTC5wAX9OZSs318ZxmB4rHNZw2aaAane2P0mtFcM71Lig75WqF9QaUukrL3TG4iHC4HybY3qMxSm8/s1600-h/X+Rated.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 286px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424487247915672914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbkkwJC9vPtcSUPFWO0lwIrh02FrzJjCkeZ6M2CG-WNJkkbK7Wahb8nt6nakx4MKtzTC5wAX9OZSs318ZxmB4rHNZw2aaAane2P0mtFcM71Lig75WqF9QaUukrL3TG4iHC4HybY3qMxSm8/s400/X+Rated.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEfJgtpSR0RYH10-yVdshK4hZ_OCX3Kn7tGID3_ziUWm57RErp3L32f4iSq6YdnqBO4QXeKQZo_c9-fimEIEWg6RX7XcuhEoHV5DMilc_bUtocnPdDDb6_96lNBZBwCZfqET9D_hnjTs7/s1600-h/At+3+months.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 315px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424487042369555634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhJEfJgtpSR0RYH10-yVdshK4hZ_OCX3Kn7tGID3_ziUWm57RErp3L32f4iSq6YdnqBO4QXeKQZo_c9-fimEIEWg6RX7XcuhEoHV5DMilc_bUtocnPdDDb6_96lNBZBwCZfqET9D_hnjTs7/s400/At+3+months.jpg" /></a>
<div>I am pictured above when I was three-and-a-half months old. I was born at the hospital in Bay City, Texas, like my older brother Cody before me. My family lived in rent houses in Markham, Texas, until I was five years old. Our father worked at the Ohio Oil Company (later renamed Marathon Oil) refinery near Markham so we lived near Rex's jobsite until his father passed away. Then my parents built a new home across the backyard from my grandmother's house in West Columbia, and we moved to the new house in 1962. Since I did not start school until the fall of 1963, and I did not attend kindergarten, I was able to spend my entire school career, from first grade through my senior year in high school, in West Columbia. My older brother Cody started school in Markham. Today, nearly 48 years after moving into that new brick home on Gupton Lane, my wife of almost 30 years and I call that same house our home. We moved into it with our sons following the death of my father in 2001.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7F_CRvWjNW0GI2hdOq9cJw41dW-MUYNgeyr0Yar-RiP7Vbk7xFsnXLgkWm8jwA8DIV7YA-eXleMF0SgS7sRTC-bD95k6Cn7LN1mobYtbAIupNCIFYzo7JM-UJKXSPxv4oIAscAmHHJ1c5/s1600-h/With+Grandparents.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 297px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424484760851157458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh7F_CRvWjNW0GI2hdOq9cJw41dW-MUYNgeyr0Yar-RiP7Vbk7xFsnXLgkWm8jwA8DIV7YA-eXleMF0SgS7sRTC-bD95k6Cn7LN1mobYtbAIupNCIFYzo7JM-UJKXSPxv4oIAscAmHHJ1c5/s400/With+Grandparents.jpg" /></a>
<div>I was Christened at the Methodist church in West Columbia at some point during my first year of life in 1957. Holding me in the photo below is my godmother, my dad's sister Ruby Nell Gupton Fontenot, shown with her husband, my godfather Vito Corleone (actually that's my dad's brother-in-law, Kirby Fontenot). Uncle Kirby and Aunt Ruby were chosen as my godparents because they had no children of their own. When I got a little older the Fontenots would keep me one week each summer at their Bellaire home. I really miss them tremendously, as I do my grandparents, pictured above. Samuel Morris "Buff" and Mattie Eula Meadows Gupton of West Columbia were captured for posterity by my mother's camera, showing off their newest little grandbaby. I was number eight of Eula and Buff's nine grandchildren, my sister Kelly joining the Gupton family three years later.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_6JBGcQBdgdHXWzGm1ZCkxllB5d69EQj3qF3KsNeaaIhseGiImIZu7-X8Q3U0XGIq7rp4LAEHKtwGmutjihpeKwmaD9QdP8jWmzM05-WeNr1mHeWivtbBuwD5DJfc24prI7-vsRc3YMu/s1600-h/With+Godparents.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 249px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424482520693236850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5_6JBGcQBdgdHXWzGm1ZCkxllB5d69EQj3qF3KsNeaaIhseGiImIZu7-X8Q3U0XGIq7rp4LAEHKtwGmutjihpeKwmaD9QdP8jWmzM05-WeNr1mHeWivtbBuwD5DJfc24prI7-vsRc3YMu/s400/With+Godparents.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2plyiBWVD4T2PDnUIGCmosdZG7sz-iBXJ9EhbXdnSh7eFJvLfcYLeG3g8waOXSS_yXcDpTQr1Pi8YetVQMgV7RjKjrGhyphenhyphenWCrsfwtl58NCnxmUDYYb_DOe2mLceNX2xnBCZvjeWl8nnQP/s1600-h/Kelly+2+weeks.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 378px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424482158659762098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq2plyiBWVD4T2PDnUIGCmosdZG7sz-iBXJ9EhbXdnSh7eFJvLfcYLeG3g8waOXSS_yXcDpTQr1Pi8YetVQMgV7RjKjrGhyphenhyphenWCrsfwtl58NCnxmUDYYb_DOe2mLceNX2xnBCZvjeWl8nnQP/s400/Kelly+2+weeks.jpg" /></a>
<div>My mother was forced to tolerate a house full of boys until my little sister came along in 1960. Kelly Renee Gupton, born in Wharton, Texas, on March 22, 1960, is pictured above at two weeks old in a photo taken with her big brothers in our parents' bed in the home our parents rented from the Hellers in Markham, Texas. In the photo below our father, Rex Gupton, proudly displays his three children for Mama's camera. That's me on the left (at three years old) and my six-year-old brother Cody on the right. I can't even imagine how boring life would have been growing up without Cody and Kelly as my playmates and siblings.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6LFpOn1RnwS13Nfj-YzFF7ygUbF7dVr37Z1wnRhg8G8-9s7a-XjxwJLXe3OZZetwrBVCDzNJnY3wyf_30ZmswdpgKRdTS5vv0CmcbWoIfB28SFP2F1TpQEGliO-sWfbLLfmlR3XRMaY7/s1600-h/Dog+%26+His+Pups.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 371px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424480368621316978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ6LFpOn1RnwS13Nfj-YzFF7ygUbF7dVr37Z1wnRhg8G8-9s7a-XjxwJLXe3OZZetwrBVCDzNJnY3wyf_30ZmswdpgKRdTS5vv0CmcbWoIfB28SFP2F1TpQEGliO-sWfbLLfmlR3XRMaY7/s400/Dog+%26+His+Pups.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2TPjPqe2-zdjOZItycYP9d7_bxki488H4bRg21-ReHAvYeQzvAyX8JXmfNt3EppL8mphUWbqRe2bUEiRr9_7zq-GnwAClZJYTLtHneAdWDMCzrDfptHhQo4fRBzdz7rhbX17kDqiGCef/s1600-h/T-Gup's+52nd.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 274px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424480064635184450" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhm2TPjPqe2-zdjOZItycYP9d7_bxki488H4bRg21-ReHAvYeQzvAyX8JXmfNt3EppL8mphUWbqRe2bUEiRr9_7zq-GnwAClZJYTLtHneAdWDMCzrDfptHhQo4fRBzdz7rhbX17kDqiGCef/s400/T-Gup's+52nd.jpg" /></a>
<div>Tonight my wife Peggy is treating me and our sons to a birthday meal at P.F. Chang's restaurant in Sugar Land. Last year at this time A Taste Of Texas restaurant in Houston was the site for the big birthday feast in honor of both myself and my new daughter-in-law, Tiffanie Hatley Gupton. I am pictured above with the special birthday cake supplied by the restaurant waiting staff on my 52nd birthday. At the time Tiffanie and Brian were engaged, but the newlyweds were married on October 17th, 2009, and now make their home in Houston. Joining us for the birthday celebration at A Taste Of Texas last January were Joe and Tina Hatley and their daughters Tiffanie and Nicole, me and my wife Peggy and our sons Brian, Bret and Blake.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRLXJzxUYoPIYj6EF6NEtfG5KzvctMU1riJ5IQIlIrsQS4ECEJP6I9g-Nz-oEf3BzkUwidf0Jr705Op7nqDNrqq199hj83VtNAPVR8wcnJ-3Ra5mBAgwh3c3afFSpC4PYxM_YK6P4SC1d/s1600-h/Tracy's+Birthday.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5424476459317184658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxRLXJzxUYoPIYj6EF6NEtfG5KzvctMU1riJ5IQIlIrsQS4ECEJP6I9g-Nz-oEf3BzkUwidf0Jr705Op7nqDNrqq199hj83VtNAPVR8wcnJ-3Ra5mBAgwh3c3afFSpC4PYxM_YK6P4SC1d/s400/Tracy's+Birthday.jpg" /></a>
<div>Pictured above on my 34th birthday is a gathering of immediate family, which is how I have celebrated the majority of my fifty-some-odd birthdays. Since my wife Peggy is not in the photo, she obviously was snapping the picture. Shown, from left to right, are my "baby boy" Devon Blake Gupton, my father Rex Gupton, my mother Verna Gupton, our middle son Stephen Bret Gupton, the eldest son Brian Leslie Gupton, and the birthday boy, Robert Tracy Gupton. I was blessed with the greatest parents anyone could have, both of whom went out of their way each year to provide memorable Christmases and birthday parties for each of their three children. Both Rex and Verna are gone now, so I have to give credit where credit is due. Peggy and our sons have taken the necessary steps to fill the void left by Mom and Dad, making me continue to feel special every January 8th when my birthday comes around. Thanks a million guys! I love each of you with all of my heart.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-34220398900923212902009-12-29T08:27:00.021-06:002009-12-29T11:15:53.745-06:00Fond Memories Of Christmases Past<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigsOQ-IZFvbfvs1K7RqEBgM6ZtXiGA0dQgD1QWwoxoWwcQJvoi3t3O09yZCQxN3h3S_csOVCYNEuYUpIjKuVM9egkUsHOprQkSydfXWiwHnhjh3BZiXJRONRDkwUVoqBZL4fz3zekFcBPx/s1600-h/Me,+Bee+%26+Santa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 284px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420707639436660162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigsOQ-IZFvbfvs1K7RqEBgM6ZtXiGA0dQgD1QWwoxoWwcQJvoi3t3O09yZCQxN3h3S_csOVCYNEuYUpIjKuVM9egkUsHOprQkSydfXWiwHnhjh3BZiXJRONRDkwUVoqBZL4fz3zekFcBPx/s400/Me,+Bee+%26+Santa.jpg" /></a>
<div>On Christmas Eve this year my family gathered at the West Columbia home of my sister (pictured above with me and Santa Claus in the early 1960s) and her family. "A great time was had by all," as the saying goes. We enjoyed a delicious meal, watched the SMU Mustangs kick ass in their college football bowl game on TV, and handed out presents. Then, with everyone in sort of a semicircle seated around the living room, we took turns talking about our most memorable Christmases. When it came to me I chose to bypass what I consider my most memorable Christmas because of its sad nature, and instead told of what I will refer to as "my best Christmas." Back in the days when mini-bikes were the craze and many of my friends and classmates at West Columbia Intermediate School had them, I asked my mother and father if I could have a mini-bike (a much smaller version of a motorcycle powered by an engine about the size of a lawnmower's engine) for Christmas. I screwed the story up when I was telling it at Kelli's house Christmas Eve. I said that when I was working at my parents' feed store in mid-December of the year I had requested the mini-bike, I wandered over to the locked up building next door to the feed store and peered through the glass in the door and just happened to see my mini-bike and my little sister's 10-speed bicycle that my mom and dad had hidden in the building that they used to store hay and other feed store related items. Kelli corrected me and said that it was she who discovered the Christmas gifts that were supposed to be from Santa Claus. After she said this Christmas Eve that she was snooping around and found our Santa presents, I now remember that she is correct. Kelli told me what she had found and later I went and looked for myself. So now, in my early fifties (I prefer to say that I'm in my late forties . . . late, late forties . . . in fact I am now forty-twelve), I get a lot of my old memories confused. My YOUNGER sister (who actually is in her late forties) will soon be finding herself having to correct stories told by both me and our (much) older brother. Alzheimer's runs in the family so we are all prone to be candidates for the memory-stealing disease. So, Reader's Digest version, that was my most memorable Christmas that I talked about Christmas Eve. But in actuality, there is one Christmas of my life that by far is much more memorable than any others. During most of my young life, my mother's mother and brother and sister would all congregate at our house in West Columbia on Christmas Eve to eat a wonderful meal prepared by my mother, and then sit around the Christmas tree and open our presents. So many very wonderful memories swirl in my mind about Christmases past. I have so many to think about when it comes to my own current family, my wife of 29 years and our sons, both our biological children and those we have taken in over the years and treated as our own kids. But sad to say, Christmas has never meant the same to me as it did when my grandmother, Clara Pauline Giesler, was a big part of my earlier Christmas memories. The tradition was for Grandma and Uncle (my mother's brother Howard Giesler) and Aunt Yvonne Broadway and her sons to leave their East Columbia home in the late afternoon on Christmas Eve and join my family for food and presents and the best part of that holiday recipe: family togetherness. So my grandmother's last Christmas was what sticks in my mind as my most memorable Christmas. Grandma, who we all called Dee-Dee when we were young kids but switched to calling simply "Grandma" when we got older because that is what all of the Broadway boys (our first cousins) called her, had enjoyed a routine Christmas Eve at my parents' house when our first born son Brian was still a baby. Peggy and Brian and I lived across the yard from my parents at the time in what had been the home of my dad's mother and father before both of those grandparents passed away. The following day my immediate family was eating our Christmas Day meal at my mom and dad's house in West Columbia when my mother took what I have to rank among the five most memorable phone calls I have ever been a part of. My Aunt Yvonne told my mother (her sister) that their mother had just died at her East Columbia home, where my Aunt Yvonne and Uncle Howard also lived. "Oh, Yvonne, you don't mean it!" my mother shrieked into the receiver. So, of course, everyone in the house stopped what they were doing and stared at my mother. As tears began to stream down Mama's cheeks, we all knew within seconds that whatever the news was, it wasn't good. So we all got in our cars and rushed to East Columbia on Christmas Day of 1983 where we walked into my grandmother's house to take in the surreal scene of everyone crying and shaking their heads in disbelief at what had just transpired. James "Scooter" Phillips, a friend and classmate of my brother Cody's, was a sheriff's deputy who had been celebrating Christmas at his mother's house just down the street from my grandmother's home. I had called the police department from my parents' house and requested an ambulance be sent to East Columbia to try to revive my grandmother. Scooter heard the call for the EMT's on his sheriff's deparment radio and rushed down the street to start CPR attempts on Grandma. My brother Cody and I were driving into East Columbia and noticed the ambulance at the wrong house, so we rode over and directed the EMT's to the correct house. But it was too late to do anything for my grandmother. The EMT's took over for the sheriff's deputy but quickly realized that Clara Pauline Giesler's life had come to an end. My grandmother would have celebrated her 83rd birthday the following month. At my grandmother's funeral, held at the historic Presbyterian church in East Columbia a couple days after Christmas, the preacher commented on how her death on Christmas Day had significant meaning because Grandma loved the Christmas holidays so very much. The story of her death, as it was told to me by those who witnessed it, was that Grandma was preparing Christmas dinner for her family. My own immediate family usually shared the noon meal with the rest of my mother's family in East Columbia on Christmas Day, with them joining us for the Christmas Eve meal. But this particular year my mother cooked for her children and grandchildren (she only had Dustin, Brian and Hayley at the time) instead of going to East Columbia. I was told that my grandmother had a turkey in the oven and other things cooking on the stove when she sat down in her rocking chair and simply slumped over . . . lifeless. My uncle ran to her and eventually picked his mothe up and placed her on a bed at the front of the house. The EMT's said she was probably dead before CPR attempts were even initiated, so it is my impression that her heart just gave out on her. Stress had to have contributed greatly to her demise as well. Her oldest daughter Yvonne was in advanced stages of breast cancer at the time, and we had buried one of her grandsons (Danny Louis Broadway) when he died at the age of 26 not too many years before Grandma passed away. My Aunt Yvonne would not survive her cancer ordeal much longer, so it is with some sense of relief that Dee-Dee did not have to live through the death of her daughter. I witnessed first hand how distraught my grandmother was over the death of her young grandson. And, although I wept like a baby when I lost my grandmother when I was in my twenties, it would have been extremely difficult to have to watch her deal with the passing of my Aunt Yvonne. Grandma's passing on Christmas Day of 1983 was, for all the wrong reasons, the most memorable Christmas of my life. But, like with the story I told this Christmas Eve at my sister's house, there are so many varied happy memories (many which feature my grandmother who died on Christmas Day) that I will treasure forever involving the Christmas holidays and the many family members and friends I love so dearly. I have included with this blog entry a number of photos from Christmases past that I hope each of you enjoys looking at. I have many more but I am limited to how many I can include with this blog entry, so if you got left out this year then check out my blog next Christmas. Hopefully the Christmas photos I took of you will appear then.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKKH6VthgOCwEMVxyg2mQQmOy2hW44O91Ec9_oxNf8nsbpI-p2nicLJTfOh3Q9ncA4J9Iu6VMlayMGAhsorpMsXI2m8rRQEAucxLrF0Z9nUKiefsrYGFGPiAwhqwjr5McYDoTxR3qPo5d/s1600-h/First+Tricycle.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 372px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420690787490946738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhpKKH6VthgOCwEMVxyg2mQQmOy2hW44O91Ec9_oxNf8nsbpI-p2nicLJTfOh3Q9ncA4J9Iu6VMlayMGAhsorpMsXI2m8rRQEAucxLrF0Z9nUKiefsrYGFGPiAwhqwjr5McYDoTxR3qPo5d/s400/First+Tricycle.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0csSRlhiIMyWEqDqJRPSH8ELwmW7KqBkb6kjsczzNSwCCVld6fHQselG-UGsV1vgZJC1JQK4W-RIzPlYHBc2LMB0iEAd76r8JyRGPW4cZmRb5gHgksDBTNDHES6AijXfFNPXYjMph7v0/s1600-h/Musical+Brothers.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 373px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420690630526712978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0csSRlhiIMyWEqDqJRPSH8ELwmW7KqBkb6kjsczzNSwCCVld6fHQselG-UGsV1vgZJC1JQK4W-RIzPlYHBc2LMB0iEAd76r8JyRGPW4cZmRb5gHgksDBTNDHES6AijXfFNPXYjMph7v0/s400/Musical+Brothers.jpg" /></a>
<div>Opening presents on Christmas Eve and rushing out into the living room Christmas morning to see what goodies Santa Claus had brought with him down the chimney was always the very best part of Christmas for me. And the joy was practically the same when, like in the photos above, I was the little boy receiving Santa's gifts, or as the photo below displays, I portrayed the Santa role and put the big smiles on my own little boys' faces come Christmas morning. Above you see how elated a three-year-old Tracy Gupton was when I climbed atop my first tricycle and fired my brand new outer space laser pistol at my mom the photographer on Christmas morning, 1960, and strummed my new guitar with my big brother Cody the following Christmas morning. OK, the Everly Brothers we weren't, but didn't Cody and I look great in our fancy pajamas in 1961. My boys Bret, left, and Brian posed on Christmas morning for my camera when we lived on Reverend Swinney Street in West Columbia (check out Bret's Bart Simpson pajamas). That was the only house we lived in that actually had a fireplace (pictured in the background). But whether we had one or not, Santa always seemed to find his way into the living room to leave gifts for me and my brother and sister when we were kids, and then likewise when Cody, Kelly and I all had kids of our own.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKgdieYrRM6dNnyREi7vwZ_V8M7psMJhh8tH94PO3JZARgxL52ZghjLfVAEbKI4p1M84IP3ZjtG9Ap8XGXJPnipuXy861AsBVSprDmJ9kOa19RUw0UpD2DWp1UisLnlfiZmjZA6D2tHaU/s1600-h/MyBoyz+at+Xmas.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420687726439254674" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzKgdieYrRM6dNnyREi7vwZ_V8M7psMJhh8tH94PO3JZARgxL52ZghjLfVAEbKI4p1M84IP3ZjtG9Ap8XGXJPnipuXy861AsBVSprDmJ9kOa19RUw0UpD2DWp1UisLnlfiZmjZA6D2tHaU/s400/MyBoyz+at+Xmas.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Df73l-K5luKu1vy1AGLAE9q1Wh0ivbK4HrvT_49Dbvg59pgKuKmZYV4qt7s_GHMfsU3KgJENfl0oYvmPxvf1jW0QZZK6C-UEfxfTWpdBbEHqZVzojcs7X9Jn670_TxF_a7CQgkwc5w-/s1600-h/Christmas+%2789.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 270px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420687365557728018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhl9Df73l-K5luKu1vy1AGLAE9q1Wh0ivbK4HrvT_49Dbvg59pgKuKmZYV4qt7s_GHMfsU3KgJENfl0oYvmPxvf1jW0QZZK6C-UEfxfTWpdBbEHqZVzojcs7X9Jn670_TxF_a7CQgkwc5w-/s400/Christmas+%2789.jpg" /></a>
<div>The Christmas holidays always offered such wonderful photo opportunities. I took the photo above on Christmas Eve of 1989, my wife Peggy posing with "her babies," our youngest sons Bret and Blake; while the photo below is of my father, Rex Gupton, posing on either Christmas Eve or Christmas Day with our children, his grandsons, from left: Brian, Blake and Bret Gupton.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6u2BQfc1SWT-u_QdErsMirKVPR2vAY8ElXuAJerFEkYEagWIDpIZIVLk5g3TYkJMibT-sApxxDOtdqQC_EYgHZQ3_G9eQJVOiwn5suf2CmVH4uZGUN71hVuyY5I35CuReW5GfrO5x_PHk/s1600-h/My+Boys+%26+Dad.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420685752348023026" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6u2BQfc1SWT-u_QdErsMirKVPR2vAY8ElXuAJerFEkYEagWIDpIZIVLk5g3TYkJMibT-sApxxDOtdqQC_EYgHZQ3_G9eQJVOiwn5suf2CmVH4uZGUN71hVuyY5I35CuReW5GfrO5x_PHk/s400/My+Boys+%26+Dad.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvhy7ujlU8Hm7Tox5FHA5YXBI1pt9KPlJQsJQq1lK3rprA28Z5h3FBvzUtOaDMd_uTAUwCIZDVCXy74GejltgGqt1XSSzTaGiz4fqfTyEFrX77cPnEN5Ghimh5A3CnzG1QqjbPlssPLhz/s1600-h/Me+and+DeeDee.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 289px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420685176018266258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAvhy7ujlU8Hm7Tox5FHA5YXBI1pt9KPlJQsJQq1lK3rprA28Z5h3FBvzUtOaDMd_uTAUwCIZDVCXy74GejltgGqt1XSSzTaGiz4fqfTyEFrX77cPnEN5Ghimh5A3CnzG1QqjbPlssPLhz/s400/Me+and+DeeDee.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8Sc3gDt8JGgUdSfbWKmuK_soFIlL40VwEmcFb8Ln_wz2T1SD-TFVp3fYnGbqEdyrle2BluGzzC0MTghVBWbSOI40IxisdMnJU8cJ2eN_k2Lbgd43Kk-80l1qZiMZtI411KUBEmKWzGAi/s1600-h/Berndi+Cutting+Up.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420685005832699010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjG8Sc3gDt8JGgUdSfbWKmuK_soFIlL40VwEmcFb8Ln_wz2T1SD-TFVp3fYnGbqEdyrle2BluGzzC0MTghVBWbSOI40IxisdMnJU8cJ2eN_k2Lbgd43Kk-80l1qZiMZtI411KUBEmKWzGAi/s400/Berndi+Cutting+Up.jpg" /></a>
<div>My mother, Verna Gupton, who was taken from us by pancreatic cancer in 1996, was the personification of Christmas to me. She and her mother, Pauline Giesler, went out of their way each and every December to make Christmas so very, very special to all of their kids and grandkids. Pictured above is my mother Verna cuttin' up for the camera, as she was always prone to do, using the new lamp she had gotten for Christmas as a prop to get a laugh. The photo above that was taken in January or February of 1958 when it snowed in Southeast Texas. That is me being held by my grandmother, Pauline Giesler (who my siblings and I referred to as Dee-Dee when we were kids), in front of the large two-story house my family called home when we lived in Markham, Texas, during the earliest years of my life.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3f2YYPsw6fdsuXvPXtD_FTjen39Wxam4z91CZ6qqlE2BLF30kC094xnWdASu7DkhU5W4VKwr4VJ9vQuMHhYUDCdMSz4Cx34xgXy4v7uCpkvUYHoC2zlp0SXs7hAcO4LF1BVpzdSIHvJw/s1600-h/Christmas+%2792.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 272px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420682971043440226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc3f2YYPsw6fdsuXvPXtD_FTjen39Wxam4z91CZ6qqlE2BLF30kC094xnWdASu7DkhU5W4VKwr4VJ9vQuMHhYUDCdMSz4Cx34xgXy4v7uCpkvUYHoC2zlp0SXs7hAcO4LF1BVpzdSIHvJw/s400/Christmas+%2792.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2DYjRFIxm3LcnrSFw9MW3j7vvxheVipwpIF5fPPGz8wQJGNGpgQtK26_gaMgCM5o3IGDg_DCoGC4W-LR2D2ZsO_WZsoPm1kztp_fRMTsP4wJCMtSjjZv4C5fMfv1GfMiVgfSgjiPTHht/s1600-h/Bret+%26+Santa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420682785227020722" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiC2DYjRFIxm3LcnrSFw9MW3j7vvxheVipwpIF5fPPGz8wQJGNGpgQtK26_gaMgCM5o3IGDg_DCoGC4W-LR2D2ZsO_WZsoPm1kztp_fRMTsP4wJCMtSjjZv4C5fMfv1GfMiVgfSgjiPTHht/s400/Bret+%26+Santa.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxr_WYK-zyCMzDpIxQh-fOjgMWpXRl5irmXPVy049SIXn8vTnq1SD625_XHUWKyTwPH6X1OyRXgbT-tbSI7WtPpCetuS5V5wmak_rzdxLwQvfmEvy8p08__MsgnJgtmrh6rwpS4kbYdQI6/s1600-h/Blake+%26+Santa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 296px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420682599060086690" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhxr_WYK-zyCMzDpIxQh-fOjgMWpXRl5irmXPVy049SIXn8vTnq1SD625_XHUWKyTwPH6X1OyRXgbT-tbSI7WtPpCetuS5V5wmak_rzdxLwQvfmEvy8p08__MsgnJgtmrh6rwpS4kbYdQI6/s400/Blake+%26+Santa.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmQtpANDspHRFlg0IIKaY-ciX9oateI8BrgFUdtl38345Z5Nx4AoFQym6YZfXgwQ-0nt62LJPdBQ0bowqtIOhHrUza9f-AATZa-BdE62sbBY8BAyh8kq1l4zEWo2xh3zxUNVk21VUeyLr/s1600-h/Dustin+%26+Santa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 301px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420682419351137570" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMmQtpANDspHRFlg0IIKaY-ciX9oateI8BrgFUdtl38345Z5Nx4AoFQym6YZfXgwQ-0nt62LJPdBQ0bowqtIOhHrUza9f-AATZa-BdE62sbBY8BAyh8kq1l4zEWo2xh3zxUNVk21VUeyLr/s400/Dustin+%26+Santa.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xkOaH6Ee7BEiGYYpW8Xt1mdDB6PAQjKINvzaF8ngj36el0M_DRQ9X66gKM3ijDOLj5Gw1wK0qfnLwFmZqfch3ef1SQ_BtOYBG6DGBvC4LGTkuhOYsbe1_VHqNUjCgT1wLcW_VpmDqYWP/s1600-h/T-Gup+n+Santa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 398px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420682127321009538" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6xkOaH6Ee7BEiGYYpW8Xt1mdDB6PAQjKINvzaF8ngj36el0M_DRQ9X66gKM3ijDOLj5Gw1wK0qfnLwFmZqfch3ef1SQ_BtOYBG6DGBvC4LGTkuhOYsbe1_VHqNUjCgT1wLcW_VpmDqYWP/s400/T-Gup+n+Santa.jpg" /></a>
<div>A gallery of Santa Claus photographs from the past is presented above. Posing with ol' Saint Nick are, from top to bottom: my baby boy Blake sitting on Santa's lap in 1992, my middle son Bret with Santa, Blake with Santa from another year, my sister's son Dustin Mosteit when he was a little boy (Dustin is approaching 30 now), and Barry Gibb of The Bee Gees with Santa Claus. No, wait a minute, it's an impostor! Hey, I know that guy. Although he sadly looks nothing like he did back in the 1980s, when this photo was taken, that good lookin' hunk was me . . . many, many moons ago! I sure wish I had that hair back!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcv_GvUaUImg9xrPLH-Oms20FYwgwdVKFTTUw6vZOMXt-oNF4t8eoE9zjpfgDlnFxgWT0TTaMTfSDZOCXCF8B3rjGVrfY_iw1avkcjmaf3-mjjiya-gSTjEYUT91YDS4KHep5u1k3w68n/s1600-h/Hob+at+Xmas.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 269px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420679465174854098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQcv_GvUaUImg9xrPLH-Oms20FYwgwdVKFTTUw6vZOMXt-oNF4t8eoE9zjpfgDlnFxgWT0TTaMTfSDZOCXCF8B3rjGVrfY_iw1avkcjmaf3-mjjiya-gSTjEYUT91YDS4KHep5u1k3w68n/s400/Hob+at+Xmas.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMIQTAjZDSQhKqxPjHQjdoh3NdmlXRZVsJ-zWFen4pScY2PXmp_m4S9K7A9qVfiYlnHNu4_mVQ6E7CM6fm0YBmx1ZNmkTcfg1UF8hda98tWmNEbL_y8Qtq0KCmWI3GwzkF2xTbzXMK_Ye/s1600-h/Christmas+%2791.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 255px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420678985454691474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJMIQTAjZDSQhKqxPjHQjdoh3NdmlXRZVsJ-zWFen4pScY2PXmp_m4S9K7A9qVfiYlnHNu4_mVQ6E7CM6fm0YBmx1ZNmkTcfg1UF8hda98tWmNEbL_y8Qtq0KCmWI3GwzkF2xTbzXMK_Ye/s400/Christmas+%2791.jpg" /></a>
<div>Christmas has a way of making me really miss those beloved family members who are no longer around to celebrate the holidays with us. Parents and grandparents were the biggest part of my earliest Christmas memories, as well as my siblings Cody and Kelly. So now I find myself thinking of them so often during this period of the year between Thanksgiving and New Year's. Our sons--Brian, Bret and Blake--are pictured above on Christmas Eve of 1991 with my wife Peggy and her parents, Omer and Dorothy Hall. This is one of my favorite pictures of my in-laws. In the photo above that my only surviving uncle, my mother's younger brother Howard Giesler, is shown opening his presents on Christmas Eve many years ago at my parents' house.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gcf467F0IGL6oP5gwQSh3tve3lmGJAmSl4bUagOrMTM2NwUrid3bJPrYyvqYPbkAuwLYiGExUltFJC1zR-9aZfQnOlIpBRxKjA-P21cwlCmfmX6buG6muSY2kB-mWh_sGqamuc6eb9HO/s1600-h/Xmas+%2789.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 273px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420676325194954274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi0gcf467F0IGL6oP5gwQSh3tve3lmGJAmSl4bUagOrMTM2NwUrid3bJPrYyvqYPbkAuwLYiGExUltFJC1zR-9aZfQnOlIpBRxKjA-P21cwlCmfmX6buG6muSY2kB-mWh_sGqamuc6eb9HO/s400/Xmas+%2789.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvDmte5xZzueCCnxtoFz6009mOPoBwagTjILjzJ-Vn4ekxNY9_sYZMo4BjkG3tkKfiZh6mEaamxDROZau2_gnBqUyciRmY70gmsK6f9hIPMsGDcPsNJHya8SQtS2Rt7yCWlUfWp68iRh5/s1600-h/Christmas+%2791.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 296px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420676110017933714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXvDmte5xZzueCCnxtoFz6009mOPoBwagTjILjzJ-Vn4ekxNY9_sYZMo4BjkG3tkKfiZh6mEaamxDROZau2_gnBqUyciRmY70gmsK6f9hIPMsGDcPsNJHya8SQtS2Rt7yCWlUfWp68iRh5/s400/Christmas+%2791.jpg" /></a>
<div>My nephew Rex Layne Gupton, rapidly approaching his 21st birthday (he was born on Super Bowl Sunday), is the star of the above photos which were taken by me on Christmas Eve of 1989 when "Montana" Rex was a baby, and on Christmas Eve of 1991 when Rex posed with his mom and dad, Andrea and Cody Gupton. My mother Verna dubbed her "Super Bowl" grandson "Montana" because Joe Montana led the San Francisco 49ers to victory the day Rex Layne was born. I guess if the Cincinnati Bengals had won that day, my nephew would still be called "Boomer" instead of "Montana." Cody must have really liked that shirt because he appears to be wearing it in both photos, taken a couple years apart. But that's nothing, a few years ago we were looking at old family photos and I came across a picture of me holding my youngest son Blake when he was a baby. I was wearing the same shirt the day we were looking at those old photos that I had on in the picture I posed for with Blake when he was a baby. Hey, the Gupton brothers get their money's worth out of our clothes!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2MFfdiRf9x8d0LVkn2KDaHYAYm3p6AUw7MQQmo9dmCVSJUtDrPJRkShQrDkWPop3dfLkN-62dHwQhg1BHH8UHPWJcqSTx37Vb7paen_u8-ParHSoCmpQITg2wR7cOV3bE3cMeDYO5Tfc/s1600-h/Gups+in+Pasadena.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420674090505100610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiD2MFfdiRf9x8d0LVkn2KDaHYAYm3p6AUw7MQQmo9dmCVSJUtDrPJRkShQrDkWPop3dfLkN-62dHwQhg1BHH8UHPWJcqSTx37Vb7paen_u8-ParHSoCmpQITg2wR7cOV3bE3cMeDYO5Tfc/s400/Gups+in+Pasadena.jpg" /></a>
<div>In the photo above my little family gathered in the living room of my brother-in-law and sister-in-law, Ronnie and Marilyn Hall, in Pasadena, Texas, for a Christmas photo. My wife, Ronnie's baby sister Peggy, and I are shown with our boys, Brian, Bret and Blake.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzyMJvGfurVUsAYvVKjpTO9O6xUAAkni38dfqtxConS54R8ZjnpzgtUE_epwdT9e5cwDkTJvc3Jl_JAyGPWeo1bp5QnBU21VYeBJfQ4mmiQWFraGEMriBwou4IFnrM35hx-6BXIL_i0gC/s1600-h/Kirk's+Klan.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420672295445784210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXzyMJvGfurVUsAYvVKjpTO9O6xUAAkni38dfqtxConS54R8ZjnpzgtUE_epwdT9e5cwDkTJvc3Jl_JAyGPWeo1bp5QnBU21VYeBJfQ4mmiQWFraGEMriBwou4IFnrM35hx-6BXIL_i0gC/s400/Kirk's+Klan.jpg" /></a>
<div>When the "I Do's" were exchanged at the November 14th wedding of my adopted son, Kirk Gupton, and his new bride, the former Tanya Spears, Peggy and I went from having zero grandsons to abruptly finding ourselves the new grandparents of four darling little boys. Pictured below with Santa Claus in a photo taken during the 2008 Christmas season are my grandsons, from left, Koby Richardson, DeMarcus Randall, Trey Spears and Koy Richardson. In the photo above are Kirk and Tanya and their kids in a photo I took at our house in 2008 on Christmas day.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbwhNL4LH5uhnh6BdhlcsoQk9JTYwcPL_lVcSi31oA3bFjuBUCfWzqn2hoz9TsRIBJnAkVEFKRvUTS7CyfD41goMxyY36zSSB4SnQarqUHYUpqG8l7IT_KD00MbCOnNPtjhccRsI9Cbg_/s1600-h/Kids+With+Santa.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 385px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420670664040703090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAbwhNL4LH5uhnh6BdhlcsoQk9JTYwcPL_lVcSi31oA3bFjuBUCfWzqn2hoz9TsRIBJnAkVEFKRvUTS7CyfD41goMxyY36zSSB4SnQarqUHYUpqG8l7IT_KD00MbCOnNPtjhccRsI9Cbg_/s400/Kids+With+Santa.jpg" /></a>
<div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-34772177992639624542009-11-18T17:04:00.030-06:002009-11-18T19:06:35.013-06:00Teagan Grace Born On Grandpa's Birthday<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhFFmk2hx8AB3r9lXzTdaXjRm73-VpBw_fUbzpXLYcEJVCRQPaWyZv4KoyG140ZA_k_eWOXZZet6WcQsK0pVugb6P-YkBFLWlBfnbAyh6MiTdu0Rl5ykoVAhpC4E_r6czonwKxSzx7bRZ/s1600/Sara+and+Teagan.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405614748444737826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWhFFmk2hx8AB3r9lXzTdaXjRm73-VpBw_fUbzpXLYcEJVCRQPaWyZv4KoyG140ZA_k_eWOXZZet6WcQsK0pVugb6P-YkBFLWlBfnbAyh6MiTdu0Rl5ykoVAhpC4E_r6czonwKxSzx7bRZ/s400/Sara+and+Teagan.jpg" /></a>
<div>This past Sunday a milestone in the Gupton-Weems-Smith-Polhemus families occurred. A Hollywood scriptwriter couldn't have penned it any better. Sara Weems Polhemus, the daughter of my cousin and best friend, Steve Weems, and his wife Rhonda Smith Weems, delivered her second daughter on her father's birthday. Stephen Kent Weems was born on November 15, 1957, and his newest granddaughter, Teagan Grace Polhemus, made her grand entrance into the world on November 15, 2009. Little Teagan, whose arrival terminated Kinley Mae Polhemus's days as an only child, wasn't due until later in the week but made her grandfather's wishes come true by being born on the same day of the year that he was 52 years ago. Kevin Polhemus is the proud father of both Kinley Mae and now Teagan Grace. Kevin and Sara live in Chicago, though both are graduates of Columbia High School in West Columbia, Texas. Sara, pictured above with her beautiful baby girl Teagan, is shown below with Steve and Rhonda when she was a baby herself. Steve, who has been as close to me as a brother since before the two of us even started school, is pictured below in a photo I took of him in my parents' kitchen when he was in his twenties, and in a more recent photo with his wife Rhonda as the two of them chat with Joe Fenn at Steve's Uncle J.W. Gupton's 80th birthday party in Richmond, Texas. I would like to extend my congratulations to Sara, Kevin and Kinley on the birth of the newest member of the Polhemus family of Chicago, to Steve and Rhonda for being grandparents for the second time, to their son Austin Weems for becoming an uncle yet again, and, of course, to Jack and Phyllis Weems on becoming great-grandparents . . . one more time. And, now, what follows is my continuation of my previous blog wishing "Happy Birthday" to the many friends and family members I love so much who were all born in November.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE39SbbKNU_E5knIgzvOM2gh9ED3VNc0yFBVLcGC-fI3AkAfPr2i1iYRaCfJ-_RIJPlc6ajSSciY2BjiuWVd2sQWN7QUUMCFOHcs_FEQJ-iPic1HSOhKmF9IaaG4tu0mYev_EmjqEm0d61/s1600/The+Weems.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 274px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405610430192771410" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgE39SbbKNU_E5knIgzvOM2gh9ED3VNc0yFBVLcGC-fI3AkAfPr2i1iYRaCfJ-_RIJPlc6ajSSciY2BjiuWVd2sQWN7QUUMCFOHcs_FEQJ-iPic1HSOhKmF9IaaG4tu0mYev_EmjqEm0d61/s400/The+Weems.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8nhUmyTRIA1heyJsqLL1b0ftQ_9YMlCo-eNF2hQwNYh4ow5ste1xA_GGJ9XAlRco7oygP1LuiGnk3IZXpWRUJKVuK4d8cBIbUNEFbkYyDzs_HgiOzxckN_Y1IREWn7DUvytVhNfKhsVE/s1600/Cousin+Steve.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 247px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405610204759250946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhf8nhUmyTRIA1heyJsqLL1b0ftQ_9YMlCo-eNF2hQwNYh4ow5ste1xA_GGJ9XAlRco7oygP1LuiGnk3IZXpWRUJKVuK4d8cBIbUNEFbkYyDzs_HgiOzxckN_Y1IREWn7DUvytVhNfKhsVE/s400/Cousin+Steve.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg862Gdvu4xN7y_sapEA-3S7_8db1Rw4MsEusg22huRU3X2iRiXl6piDAqnirskE_JhSXMoiOd6OAeKxGFFDd0LVsI5QjoKOg-OgzeP7_bJE2qiAF6NXnw8UuFl5NLyl1i0Rdu66fRb0jc2/s1600/Steve+%26+Rhonda.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405610035896195698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg862Gdvu4xN7y_sapEA-3S7_8db1Rw4MsEusg22huRU3X2iRiXl6piDAqnirskE_JhSXMoiOd6OAeKxGFFDd0LVsI5QjoKOg-OgzeP7_bJE2qiAF6NXnw8UuFl5NLyl1i0Rdu66fRb0jc2/s400/Steve+%26+Rhonda.jpg" /></a>
<div>Jamie Laron Tims, who celebrated his 27th birthday on November 4th, has been like a son to me since he was a small child. Jamie, pictured below sporting the Deion Sanders jersey and roller skates he received from "Santa Gup" many Christmases ago, is also pictured showing off his infant daughter Amaya on a sunny afternoon in Lake Jackson. Jamie, whose younger brother Garry Anthony "Bubba" Hutcherson turned 24 on November 16th, is shown below with my son Brian Gupton in a photo from their youth. Another "foster" son of mine who is also now a father of his own daughters is pictured below when he was one of my kids. Adrian Lee Earl Pipkins, known to all of us simply as "Wimpy," was 24 years old on November 12th. Wimpy was photographed by me at the beach and on his bicycle when he was about 11 or 12 years old. And the other "beach beauty" stretched out in the sand is Courtney Johnson, who celebrated his 29th birthday on November 11th. Chris, Courtney, Jamie, Bubba and Wimpy--all November babies--were all just like my own sons when they were kids. Now they are all grown men, a couple now married and a couple with children of their own.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpqfFvNZIIP6sFmmhAHIjMwBvJjF8Io7C45tNQeGeiHg8Xm-ujlMG9ncM4eSMtiwDloFtbogIp4D8GpUJXrKNCqr6c8o5L1xB43MgrCZaALLYRNNpq_yXGo5NP_LNec8P1BIzfmp-PG3L/s1600/Jamies+Little+Girl.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405606411383881554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbpqfFvNZIIP6sFmmhAHIjMwBvJjF8Io7C45tNQeGeiHg8Xm-ujlMG9ncM4eSMtiwDloFtbogIp4D8GpUJXrKNCqr6c8o5L1xB43MgrCZaALLYRNNpq_yXGo5NP_LNec8P1BIzfmp-PG3L/s400/Jamies+Little+Girl.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Uvjwz8moXD76gfm1vuTsz5iGxvgkYjQTZl7A5TxKRYQ5J3eBIz_7uBoX9fkCxTLUAO__5GkLhh8aCnIgZ7924zSHjY500-8VfmMnAAxcflSM0lwdBh_kFh_FLcWQBzhhGVav_yF4tX-A/s1600/Neon+Jamie.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 284px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405606128593474082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh9Uvjwz8moXD76gfm1vuTsz5iGxvgkYjQTZl7A5TxKRYQ5J3eBIz_7uBoX9fkCxTLUAO__5GkLhh8aCnIgZ7924zSHjY500-8VfmMnAAxcflSM0lwdBh_kFh_FLcWQBzhhGVav_yF4tX-A/s400/Neon+Jamie.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJpLQ6V1TaqPY9kiouZL0qyxCkBZgBhKvr9_768jErTt1SWMYOiUHt18JuFcMoLYexw_ayjNfCla0FcEswvwDrjfY3uoT4uXB5BHulHIc_QkvUlj3g3E2czzjBGX2QtHE-5N1QVvH0N5w/s1600/Jamie+%26+Brian.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405605767851221122" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLJpLQ6V1TaqPY9kiouZL0qyxCkBZgBhKvr9_768jErTt1SWMYOiUHt18JuFcMoLYexw_ayjNfCla0FcEswvwDrjfY3uoT4uXB5BHulHIc_QkvUlj3g3E2czzjBGX2QtHE-5N1QVvH0N5w/s400/Jamie+%26+Brian.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJmx7AvyCsIQXLwhGnDdsrm5wq6DcuyN0ruVJIYJBJplRqsRBdXpn7kV0jkszMI56JoC3vHQEdRaXU8xi7NC_Rkf4ssy2ppaYTstvd0YmONp-Ho3IJx4m4VaZLadeBOzvBGeoVqrdIp2T/s1600/Adrian+Lee+Earl.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 278px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405600243688348610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnJmx7AvyCsIQXLwhGnDdsrm5wq6DcuyN0ruVJIYJBJplRqsRBdXpn7kV0jkszMI56JoC3vHQEdRaXU8xi7NC_Rkf4ssy2ppaYTstvd0YmONp-Ho3IJx4m4VaZLadeBOzvBGeoVqrdIp2T/s400/Adrian+Lee+Earl.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6eXfJySsjshzSLoXSO0hUEoffnHSdKDL0-I7oSTJrwYC9g78FGZw9xnXPJWnEa1TIG-VU6HZ74LBtmbv7ZKb6lcfofZdKGp1a5AkpmT9_BClpHrzj6Zp7e_6cACdgi42xwh3OYIhS0Cki/s1600/Adrian+in+Sand.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 282px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405600019769366482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6eXfJySsjshzSLoXSO0hUEoffnHSdKDL0-I7oSTJrwYC9g78FGZw9xnXPJWnEa1TIG-VU6HZ74LBtmbv7ZKb6lcfofZdKGp1a5AkpmT9_BClpHrzj6Zp7e_6cACdgi42xwh3OYIhS0Cki/s400/Adrian+in+Sand.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv8WjNY95HO96HpJ1Rt927Ap_LcLctXCU7yql9XDXWhkbHgbQjS2Aqj5mqs9mwvgMtDVSE5PKkRcELsh2-LEWF8JJThxEzYwg4GE-Mmw8O7e3ZHww05pkt1W0TQrqpNvnlAigVidndRUn/s1600/Courtney+in+Sand.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405599770201035554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVv8WjNY95HO96HpJ1Rt927Ap_LcLctXCU7yql9XDXWhkbHgbQjS2Aqj5mqs9mwvgMtDVSE5PKkRcELsh2-LEWF8JJThxEzYwg4GE-Mmw8O7e3ZHww05pkt1W0TQrqpNvnlAigVidndRUn/s400/Courtney+in+Sand.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi403T-Y2wuvTf9mdgMwA8DFmWNHuqZn3iP1dWatl9SuDh9W0f2jlVV9QjYGJx44D1hcwRfOYhkz_Yo7T796bB18O49oWC83cdTgwYup58pO0xWDBmsdjLxcCeGeL4ae7YWJMQBv8RBwvhq/s1600/Chris+Maynard.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 220px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405598931529654098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi403T-Y2wuvTf9mdgMwA8DFmWNHuqZn3iP1dWatl9SuDh9W0f2jlVV9QjYGJx44D1hcwRfOYhkz_Yo7T796bB18O49oWC83cdTgwYup58pO0xWDBmsdjLxcCeGeL4ae7YWJMQBv8RBwvhq/s320/Chris+Maynard.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCJj1EpKIO7FDITbhbZJv8pqTKyVEm2PsDpIn2kKsHqwi6IhvqUjrEwmt_D7-nFuwJuLt9_zDu-EpuL3dyyEgBn9ZA9Ei0nf4hmmOkjcOnsooCY02o13gBN5yQQGSlvUf52qGMRvoMoeD/s1600/Chris+1997.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 225px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405598731983161234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPCJj1EpKIO7FDITbhbZJv8pqTKyVEm2PsDpIn2kKsHqwi6IhvqUjrEwmt_D7-nFuwJuLt9_zDu-EpuL3dyyEgBn9ZA9Ei0nf4hmmOkjcOnsooCY02o13gBN5yQQGSlvUf52qGMRvoMoeD/s320/Chris+1997.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdJ76UXros_ZqW2AZp1R3LhJCd28qGQW4gSlBSrB3H-c9R8l_RahF_0tmmPyZtlQJ9-E-QCDR2z1MC1XHqUI0pJYno4Rw9d3eIzbxolv_4zv-bW30HBO4sYCGgrAhzGFgtioEbXLticav/s1600/Brian+%26+Chris.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 312px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405598312054065634" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiVdJ76UXros_ZqW2AZp1R3LhJCd28qGQW4gSlBSrB3H-c9R8l_RahF_0tmmPyZtlQJ9-E-QCDR2z1MC1XHqUI0pJYno4Rw9d3eIzbxolv_4zv-bW30HBO4sYCGgrAhzGFgtioEbXLticav/s400/Brian+%26+Chris.jpg" /></a>
<div>Winners at a "Hoop Jam" tournament in Pearland in 2000 were, pictured below from left to right, my son Brian Gupton, Julian Solis and Chris Maynard, all members of the Columbia Roughnecks varsity basketball team that year. Chris, who is also pictured above, celebrated his 28th birthday on November 11th. The trio of Roughnecks cagers proudly display the trophies they won that day nine years ago.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIQBT2015bZkwqq9li6pPNiyjozaUrRIW2qO6EafZBVJYQiztBob33luelrQY0rdqaKhKamS3-9KZvDwEXyXsxQjCILadyge9Yq4Po0omkT7V-bpCLlFSNSVg-8FFcK0u4ZhAJeoyksra/s1600/Hoopsters+2000.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405596819242244258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjIQBT2015bZkwqq9li6pPNiyjozaUrRIW2qO6EafZBVJYQiztBob33luelrQY0rdqaKhKamS3-9KZvDwEXyXsxQjCILadyge9Yq4Po0omkT7V-bpCLlFSNSVg-8FFcK0u4ZhAJeoyksra/s400/Hoopsters+2000.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaHj36LCxntFl7oZfLTmagQ_CMrfVs5UmhS5DcEGV25tn4t62MqNSZ0fP9UdhVKSTMA8KuV4BYI-RdEeTWpoQRSwzRkAozZqoyD-TNv069CXyjFvimJs8tbeyL5oHA8wm74KdIFA9bmef/s1600/Courtney+in+%2794.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 259px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405596572927321330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhWaHj36LCxntFl7oZfLTmagQ_CMrfVs5UmhS5DcEGV25tn4t62MqNSZ0fP9UdhVKSTMA8KuV4BYI-RdEeTWpoQRSwzRkAozZqoyD-TNv069CXyjFvimJs8tbeyL5oHA8wm74KdIFA9bmef/s400/Courtney+in+%2794.jpg" /></a>
<div>Sharing a November 11th birthday with my uncle, former district judge Thurman M. Gupton (who would be turning 98 this month if he were still alive) are two of my son Brian Gupton's best friends since his childhood days. Both Chris Maynard, pictured below at right with Brian from their 2000 high school prom, and Courtney Johnson, pictured above in a childhood photo I took of him with Brian, were part of the wedding party last month when Brian married Tiffanie Hatley in front of the Varner-Hogg antebellum mansion near West Columbia. Courtney was 29 and Chris 28 when each had a birthday on November 11th.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUy09V-x1N6qMqJIrjg5dbQGF26JelsYfvBpdaPVq4_kIZa-k9PxrzapveBip8ipjSPOelOcyNy57DgyrLCLk8ag817yzav2nW2-5KPkjERtfwiaaSeTUbwVj77u-GW19gzUHK-PfcoU9L/s1600/Suave+Buddies.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 307px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405594829773262322" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUy09V-x1N6qMqJIrjg5dbQGF26JelsYfvBpdaPVq4_kIZa-k9PxrzapveBip8ipjSPOelOcyNy57DgyrLCLk8ag817yzav2nW2-5KPkjERtfwiaaSeTUbwVj77u-GW19gzUHK-PfcoU9L/s400/Suave+Buddies.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjb_mPvSicMqr20opldRR2A9eEOmZsnnWyr8DXaHRQeLN27RWmIacLExmMA2PzfWTYbJV0Ufpaze08hWyY0F9rT1B-w4NkA5rd5OCGd3n1UKhsC42Ei4XyDTe45EyEC4TGyLCWtLIVEHwR/s1600/SeeSaw+Hank.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 238px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405593984792342210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgjb_mPvSicMqr20opldRR2A9eEOmZsnnWyr8DXaHRQeLN27RWmIacLExmMA2PzfWTYbJV0Ufpaze08hWyY0F9rT1B-w4NkA5rd5OCGd3n1UKhsC42Ei4XyDTe45EyEC4TGyLCWtLIVEHwR/s400/SeeSaw+Hank.jpg" /></a>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvowA9lw31pfcyzH7gHKTSncZaX5F6-Cs6jZOSsNsetXsAdU-s7QZEG09oFBrscN_I8AHaWWKsf4EtFrzgcx5wBEf9OgrevOs8bponPc6udQ6Orf5vsxR8njtsaHYKXt1cv5RMJhpH-BKB/s1600/Little+League.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 263px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405593640521095106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvowA9lw31pfcyzH7gHKTSncZaX5F6-Cs6jZOSsNsetXsAdU-s7QZEG09oFBrscN_I8AHaWWKsf4EtFrzgcx5wBEf9OgrevOs8bponPc6udQ6Orf5vsxR8njtsaHYKXt1cv5RMJhpH-BKB/s400/Little+League.jpg" /></a>
<div>Three of my favorite cousins, all of whom are as close to me as brothers and sisters, have much more in common than simply being related to me. Each was born in the month of November. In addition to my cousin Steve Weems, who served as the best man in Peggy's and my wedding 29 years ago, the son and daughter of my father's younger brother Marvin Aubrey "Hank" Gupton and his wife Terry are also celebrating birthdays this month. Steve is the son of my dad's first cousin, Phyllis Gupton Weems, and her husband Jack Weems. So I guess that makes Steve and I either second or third cousins. But I know Hank Gupton and Angie Gupton Middleton are both my first cousins since our fathers were brothers. Pictured above are photos of Hank and Angie when they were small children. Angie Kyle Gupton was born on November 21, 1953, and was 20 months old when my mother took the picture of little Angie at the beach with her mother Terry Gupton. And the photo of her big brother Raybourne Ricks Gupton, who everyone in our family referred to as "Little Hank" when he was younger (since his daddy was Big Hank), was taken on a seesaw at a park somewhere between Jackson, Tennessee, and Texas in the mid-1950s. Little Hank's birthday is November 19th.<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuoWlT4zZMN6y87c2n9-d_oSv9yGA2b2ZXs7YXNfqc3127l88mmGRTgYt54zT4tVKW9-JouoVycUC4qtOmMS2qO6m9bqIfutFZNuCd8mvAYSumfwTio6P65Zv6hB2UfmKHHXklDA7X021/s1600/8th+grade+WM.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 321px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405587694411978274" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUuoWlT4zZMN6y87c2n9-d_oSv9yGA2b2ZXs7YXNfqc3127l88mmGRTgYt54zT4tVKW9-JouoVycUC4qtOmMS2qO6m9bqIfutFZNuCd8mvAYSumfwTio6P65Zv6hB2UfmKHHXklDA7X021/s400/8th+grade+WM.bmp" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSIVpr-0TYjjmO6eobIaKj4lhNRqiZ33q42lBkvM9_vRmAfXsTbxvSEpkZWqdRg6MiqzqaltkCcbcHtI5-mvDy0jbhxiL0Fb1Tb5NzJq1WVkkwO512VrcC4SQkiBz9YRcfrJZN-QuZXiMD/s1600/Connie's+Birthday.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405587425610571954" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhSIVpr-0TYjjmO6eobIaKj4lhNRqiZ33q42lBkvM9_vRmAfXsTbxvSEpkZWqdRg6MiqzqaltkCcbcHtI5-mvDy0jbhxiL0Fb1Tb5NzJq1WVkkwO512VrcC4SQkiBz9YRcfrJZN-QuZXiMD/s400/Connie's+Birthday.bmp" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsdZlmoOZb9ABuouXEaYyESHwg0GwzLXr9aUrW1iR7UPzeH03_ezbNOnAwGpFku3zFqvTB-5LeoQuyaIYAA1UV4O-d3YcfhxEaCAXZ-UrCC2RrQfJRKQDj77sQQJUzsVOPMe-dUFjyYK6/s1600/William+Minks.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405586550946855282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlsdZlmoOZb9ABuouXEaYyESHwg0GwzLXr9aUrW1iR7UPzeH03_ezbNOnAwGpFku3zFqvTB-5LeoQuyaIYAA1UV4O-d3YcfhxEaCAXZ-UrCC2RrQfJRKQDj77sQQJUzsVOPMe-dUFjyYK6/s400/William+Minks.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAFs2K3dPEVfOgD3VQ6MFvtDG4jveVNy3Gv-llK3O56kHGgste6vnaL0VkkzZPGUrwdtsRHLAfCDm9RU8r5rHIcFhUFJgaDAZXKM0v53JH_T-KpcduSSvuMjhL9xLsoqEclZ3ylR60SFo/s1600/Connie+%26+Pat.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405586086253923202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlAFs2K3dPEVfOgD3VQ6MFvtDG4jveVNy3Gv-llK3O56kHGgste6vnaL0VkkzZPGUrwdtsRHLAfCDm9RU8r5rHIcFhUFJgaDAZXKM0v53JH_T-KpcduSSvuMjhL9xLsoqEclZ3ylR60SFo/s400/Connie+%26+Pat.bmp" /></a>
My good friends William Minks and Connie Matocha, who served on the West Columbia Little League Board of Directors with me when our sons were 11 and 12 years old, both celebrate their 51st birthdays this week. Pictured above is Connie with her husband Pat Matocha when they ate out last year in honor of Connie's 50th birthday. She was born on November 17th while William Minks, pictured in the photo above hers with his dachsund buddy, was born on November 21st in 1958. Connie is also pictured in sombrero with cake on her face at her 50th birthday party. And that cute little eighth grader above that is none other than William, pictured from his school days when he was attending Wallis Junior High School. Can you find me in the Little League Board of Directors photo? I'm only the second best looking guy in the picture. Damn you William, why do you have to be such a pretty boy? </div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-65464260770113617782009-11-17T16:09:00.021-06:002009-11-17T19:20:31.377-06:00November Month Of Many Friends' Births<div>11-11-11. My Uncle Thurman reminded me frequently during his later years of the importance of the numeral eleven in his life. In addition to being born on the eleventh day of the eleventh month in the year 1911, Thurman Morris Gupton also wore the number "11" on his football jersey when he was the quarterback for the West Columbia Roughnecks in the late 1920s. Thurman was probably the original "T. Gup," long before the nickname was stuck on me. He was the first child born to my grandparents, Samuel Morris "Buff" and Eula Gupton, and was 10 years older than my father, Rex Gupton, who is pictured below at left with his brother Thurman. This photo, which I took on the steps of the Baptist church in West Columbia on the day my cousin (Thurman's granddaughter) Cindy and Earl Saville were married, also includes Thurman's wife Gladys Gupton and Mrs. T.M. Smith, who was one of my Sunday School teachers when I was a child. Sharing the November 11th birthday with my Uncle Thurman, who is deceased, are two of my son Brian's best friends and classmates, Courtney Johnson and Chris Maynard. Photos of Chris and Courtney, as well as other dear friends and family members who also were born in the month of November, will be featured in a followup companion piece to this blog entry. I was unable to upload additional photos and don't know if the Blogger software allows only a limited number of pictures per blog entry or not. So read through this little piece I put together and then check out the followup entry about other family and close friends with November birthdays.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLAdqhhliqxsaA_dfQUy1kPqkSuxVDRqlXUUC9kcPMlbZeSVKJcdA9O8D7pCrsEpHnhyphenhyphenFGF5YNFSUrijEYPlBSpBj-qewi_LMx0M2QmD11NpWrV7dTLZDPg2Dl3IoidSp6lfvYgF5Xjmu/s1600/Thurman+in+%2795.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405226653004852258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLAdqhhliqxsaA_dfQUy1kPqkSuxVDRqlXUUC9kcPMlbZeSVKJcdA9O8D7pCrsEpHnhyphenhyphenFGF5YNFSUrijEYPlBSpBj-qewi_LMx0M2QmD11NpWrV7dTLZDPg2Dl3IoidSp6lfvYgF5Xjmu/s400/Thurman+in+%2795.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhz1AB9UqVAZXj-IynlcRUK_AtE-a0DwcKP8fLY-7wAfNKUnV9F2rOAvZmEHHJyEpMIGw5vtPnHqYoSc05GWRg44q8VzxobiqdFcYLWMs8E32bgAuNMagJRYIuXyq_H0-3n-Xj09R3aOm/s1600/Bubba+in+2000.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 282px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405222304731917890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrhz1AB9UqVAZXj-IynlcRUK_AtE-a0DwcKP8fLY-7wAfNKUnV9F2rOAvZmEHHJyEpMIGw5vtPnHqYoSc05GWRg44q8VzxobiqdFcYLWMs8E32bgAuNMagJRYIuXyq_H0-3n-Xj09R3aOm/s400/Bubba+in+2000.jpg" /></a> The two sons of Diane George and Garry Tims, Jamie Tims and Bubba Hutcherson, both celebrate their birthdays in November. Jamie and Bubba spent big chunks of their younger years growing up in the Gupton home, practically as brothers to our sons Brian, Bret and Blake. Jamie was born on November 4th in the same year as our eldest son Brian, who was born in 1982. And while Bubba was born on November 16, 1985, his late birthday put him in the same grade as our middle child Bret, who was born May 9, 1986. Jamie and Bubba, who are the younger half-brothers of our adopted son Kirk, fit right into the Gupton family, being the same ages as our two oldest sons, Brian and Bret. And just like my own three sons, Kirk, Jamie and Bubba were always more than willing to pose for "Daddy" T. Gup's camera. I have always loved this photo at right that I took of Bubba in 2000. Like his natural brothers and his "adoptive" brothers, Bubba is very photogenic. The first picture below shows Bubba at an early age between my sons Bret, left, and Blake at the playground. The photo below that is one I took of my four baseball All-Stars, pictured from left: Blake Gupton, Adrian Pipkins, Bret Gupton and Bubba Hutcherson. That season Peggy and I signed up both Bubba and Adrian to play baseball in the same youth league as our two younger boys. Our older son Brian was playing baseball in high school by that time. Bubba and Jamie are pictured in the lower photo with their older sister, Kasandra George.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqLDadIJ7eKrEJ4IjHgIYxxj_pGtLIuhLEJPi9BbH9xto9okVzFd4Xoe95WIQhWY_Oa-qEBkkwpX5-yi1qxe0pcQ5ps7e0WiHM5zNkgPKlNS3IZvopcDUWLNZhepa_ss8B_Kd8_Oywo3x/s1600/Cute+Little+Boys.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405221955738968754" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQqLDadIJ7eKrEJ4IjHgIYxxj_pGtLIuhLEJPi9BbH9xto9okVzFd4Xoe95WIQhWY_Oa-qEBkkwpX5-yi1qxe0pcQ5ps7e0WiHM5zNkgPKlNS3IZvopcDUWLNZhepa_ss8B_Kd8_Oywo3x/s400/Cute+Little+Boys.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtis1CK5bSs2AMVe2ajDeWCSBVh26uty3UChb0apbKe7EDMQMMhcN2NtlFD9MZOhaFsVl20gJ2eLUtoodfhrQ9apP8vs5InximsGpTUmNAWGKJMoMzy5az9I-Q62evloSUleJnHF9uqsR/s1600/T.+Gup%27s+Boyz.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 185px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405221270003286914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBtis1CK5bSs2AMVe2ajDeWCSBVh26uty3UChb0apbKe7EDMQMMhcN2NtlFD9MZOhaFsVl20gJ2eLUtoodfhrQ9apP8vs5InximsGpTUmNAWGKJMoMzy5az9I-Q62evloSUleJnHF9uqsR/s400/T.+Gup%27s+Boyz.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2AYcmZaHORbWufjzIvlaUAUwW6uuBNGWvGDuWIHoH0hggfZHQ6wMqapnU57O3w_322RTSOFM1g7ZBUcnARAZT_tBEQHL-f5knJW3UjBnInRP9c9K0rDrKzkl_7qty1mV98MTB_7LV3wQ/s1600/Laron,+Kas+%26+GAH.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405221004787255810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgJ2AYcmZaHORbWufjzIvlaUAUwW6uuBNGWvGDuWIHoH0hggfZHQ6wMqapnU57O3w_322RTSOFM1g7ZBUcnARAZT_tBEQHL-f5knJW3UjBnInRP9c9K0rDrKzkl_7qty1mV98MTB_7LV3wQ/s400/Laron,+Kas+%26+GAH.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0hQuMD0COuw0THLG0lfpoyTTLAmxvcTLjEAiQpNx__Fp78M67jP6rVJA0Aw7z2Lkt_qZnZDMl0-neShsB1EY3StNq46cwC6YYlPTWI0EUVaLPMriBMy0SLfN0j4HoVMRIuYuuLPUnnRO/s1600/Bubba+at+Garner.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 288px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405218585755605378" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjk0hQuMD0COuw0THLG0lfpoyTTLAmxvcTLjEAiQpNx__Fp78M67jP6rVJA0Aw7z2Lkt_qZnZDMl0-neShsB1EY3StNq46cwC6YYlPTWI0EUVaLPMriBMy0SLfN0j4HoVMRIuYuuLPUnnRO/s400/Bubba+at+Garner.jpg" /></a> Turning 24 years old yesterday (November 16, 2009) was Garry Anthony Hutcherson, pictured above and at right). Bubba Hutcherson has been a vital part of the lives of myself and my family since he was barely out of diapers. So the fact that Bubba, or "Deuce" as he prefers to be called these days, has now entered his 24th year makes me feel extremely old. Our family picture books feature many photographs of Bubba throughout the years, from his "little boy" photos from preschool and elementary, spanning the years through high school and now in his early years as an adult. Bubba is the younger brother of Jamie Tims, featured earlier in this article, who both are just like sons to me and my wife Peggy. David Carey, who is celebrating his 40th birthday today, is pictured below in a current photo that was borrowed from David's Facebook page. David is also pictured below in photos taken in the summer of 1990.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqpXRo26tPU1gtTVln-31uQ6e9Twj7udhZD8-OPhM6AFFxaXU-re0dzksGXc1dln3p1EsrxO7ddQbydAGbKUHGCNO_KWPTZsJWC5L5n5mBqIZ93KnJ0yWQRW9Gsmk6nge68Cw0rdKDCP_/s1600/Wes+Carey.bmp"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 285px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405218179519214114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioqpXRo26tPU1gtTVln-31uQ6e9Twj7udhZD8-OPhM6AFFxaXU-re0dzksGXc1dln3p1EsrxO7ddQbydAGbKUHGCNO_KWPTZsJWC5L5n5mBqIZ93KnJ0yWQRW9Gsmk6nge68Cw0rdKDCP_/s400/Wes+Carey.bmp" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2oytbYun32WTK8DRSgSnMHe0BKxG1e6mjtU2IqypZtyFuc4TnYt_nOxpsWEWfJfrMA42yR0ohVv3sDoSLIT8G30AlCjVvDncZlmes7ypN3eyaolZb6j0AomWT4TF20aA5lLwlUmJoqYik/s1600/From+Tempe.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405217739728362434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg2oytbYun32WTK8DRSgSnMHe0BKxG1e6mjtU2IqypZtyFuc4TnYt_nOxpsWEWfJfrMA42yR0ohVv3sDoSLIT8G30AlCjVvDncZlmes7ypN3eyaolZb6j0AomWT4TF20aA5lLwlUmJoqYik/s400/From+Tempe.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpM6D6b6oby9jR9q3tSzR0iCmHLrhpAjefb52Jo1E8hvSl0FnFBbofdkyrkQ-fNTs88Yr1bdTsQNQvlqb0IUP001JLoR7t7FeFM8OrncNiV_rqXepuKaUy5HVsHtEg_XYfkfeKIL2Xftp/s1600/The+Careys.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 258px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405217364467901858" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfpM6D6b6oby9jR9q3tSzR0iCmHLrhpAjefb52Jo1E8hvSl0FnFBbofdkyrkQ-fNTs88Yr1bdTsQNQvlqb0IUP001JLoR7t7FeFM8OrncNiV_rqXepuKaUy5HVsHtEg_XYfkfeKIL2Xftp/s400/The+Careys.jpg" /></a>
<div>Reaching his 40th birthday, November 17, 2009, is much more of an accomplishment than most readers of this blog could ever possibly imagine. David Wes Carey, pictured above in a 1990 photo taken in Tempe, Arizona, with his older sister Anita Rutherford, right, and younger sister April Carey, was born on this day in 1969. Happy Birthday David from T. Gup in West Columbia, Texas. I was born in Bay City, Texas, where David Carey excelled for the Bay City Black Cats on the baseball diamond, the footbal gridiron and the basketball court. But while a freshman baseball player at Scottsdale Community College in Scottsdale, Arizona, David's dreams of one day pitching in the major leagues were shattered by a gunblast. An errant bullet from a pistol being handled by roommates in David's apartment struck him in the back while he slept in his bed in the wee hours of the morning, turning him into a quadriplegic. David Carey, whose story is told in more detail in the blog entry below this one, is pictured above with family members in Tempe, Arizona.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyxk2k7Y_xFsl40pPI66HhYfJvcyE1xwhAsCeDNkvRPKGOCWPJ_TYO077pdNS66vAVUX3TYvQvmCiZPxC4dFPcWJDXAtm4KRiw-Z4rd-3k278_S1T7Kxr6dSVBVSMiAcNemeziSDBzd-a/s1600/Angie+%26+Jack.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405214807971195474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhYyxk2k7Y_xFsl40pPI66HhYfJvcyE1xwhAsCeDNkvRPKGOCWPJ_TYO077pdNS66vAVUX3TYvQvmCiZPxC4dFPcWJDXAtm4KRiw-Z4rd-3k278_S1T7Kxr6dSVBVSMiAcNemeziSDBzd-a/s400/Angie+%26+Jack.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiurDOeU7Y-QjhEywuic4kWunZb94YkVh9oLA3_CQXQM54YpfawMt1gNa6C3auRy_oHX802iMe67_up_UEjhJ2KcVAJJUK-7ScZGBPF0SVjll1ImHKZdJM-yWqXtT-JLPzAyMQIAlxs923P/s1600/First+Cousins.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 281px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405214515937576162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiurDOeU7Y-QjhEywuic4kWunZb94YkVh9oLA3_CQXQM54YpfawMt1gNa6C3auRy_oHX802iMe67_up_UEjhJ2KcVAJJUK-7ScZGBPF0SVjll1ImHKZdJM-yWqXtT-JLPzAyMQIAlxs923P/s400/First+Cousins.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFSAYVlu3gdhwnVtjtpS-h53SM6RH6zaw2S-ypMqDVOhc6RO95925x_GBgizSZmzPVn7LbQaNHFjQd7SuI3bmaJFH0rgfo3SCO_xOJlo-zh-j76CkScJzgdr_N_SQCDGpgdkdX27mkukS/s1600/Terry+%26+Children.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 248px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405214338279565234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifFSAYVlu3gdhwnVtjtpS-h53SM6RH6zaw2S-ypMqDVOhc6RO95925x_GBgizSZmzPVn7LbQaNHFjQd7SuI3bmaJFH0rgfo3SCO_xOJlo-zh-j76CkScJzgdr_N_SQCDGpgdkdX27mkukS/s400/Terry+%26+Children.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vI0Qvat2fbelp7ahuD0VMqhMN7yJv6677Py7Ml8KBBXfCwUxxIQYcQXVVgSVLiWzraGgWa8Lf3stDTgUaCvAEXGfseRokUfvLK5YZzzB3KOehAO5LJNS5jrziwqlv4toLTL6SV1p7f4U/s1600/Jack+%26+Angie.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405213901217981218" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9vI0Qvat2fbelp7ahuD0VMqhMN7yJv6677Py7Ml8KBBXfCwUxxIQYcQXVVgSVLiWzraGgWa8Lf3stDTgUaCvAEXGfseRokUfvLK5YZzzB3KOehAO5LJNS5jrziwqlv4toLTL6SV1p7f4U/s400/Jack+%26+Angie.jpg" /></a>
<div>Not only one of my favorite cousins but definitely also one of my favorite friends is my first cousin Angie Kyle Gupton Middleton, pictured above with her husband Jack Middleton. The Middletons, who live in Cove, Texas, near Baytown, are both November babies. Jack celebrated his birthday on November 8th while Angie was born on November 21st. Angie and her big brother Hank, whose birthday is two days before his sister's, are pictured above with their mother, the late Terry Gupton, at a holiday gathering at the Anahuac home of Hank Gupton and his wife A. Lynette Parsons about 10 years ago. The photos above that were taken at the same family get-together. Hank and I are comparing our Gupton similar physical features in one while Angie hugs her hubbie Jack in the other. In the photo below, my fourth grade teacher and kissin' cousin Joyce Lester is pictured with her late husband, Charley Lester, on the steps of the First Baptist Church in West Columbia at the 1995 wedding of my cousin Cindy Brandt and Earl Saville. Joyce, who has a November 26th birthday, is now married to Ralph C. Warne. Joyce was not only one of my favorite teachers during my younger years growing up in West Columbia, but has always been among my favorite people. I love her immensely and miss her husband Charley so very much.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDh5dltPtO1jRzHAenCQei_DTAF6CvQppdTwdSUX1fLPOENH5xbZOpcPPycWsTWFwSh_64E2ewjdtSIHtuSzmoObz8KZAnMGcMkI0OAi3TpfCA5D_avovma-2451I-tpfn49Cr-UUEJJCl/s1600/Joyce+%26+Charlie.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405209593640035842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDh5dltPtO1jRzHAenCQei_DTAF6CvQppdTwdSUX1fLPOENH5xbZOpcPPycWsTWFwSh_64E2ewjdtSIHtuSzmoObz8KZAnMGcMkI0OAi3TpfCA5D_avovma-2451I-tpfn49Cr-UUEJJCl/s400/Joyce+%26+Charlie.jpg" /></a>
<div>The photograph at right below of my cousin Hank Gupton and his bride Lynette was taken in my West Columbia backyard in 1992. Like my musical idol John Fogerty, cousin Hank married a Hoosier from the great state of Indiana. Raybourne Ricks "Hank" Gupton celebrates his birthday on November 19th while Indiana's finest export to the Lone Star State, Lynette Parsons, has a December 4th birthday. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5lm90VNifFVv5VVbTbTXej5QnB8V1GJhNIdrKxQ0n8_PMTx8epU52p6uI_TkdJmbtElx0hlKUKX82WBY9p-gJGMeli1fcRA5u_OP2PKi4TSLPVzGFeo-T60o-wa6eshsSV8ZiL9N4BSL/s1600/Indiana+Hoosiers.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 279px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405207157949350162" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgc5lm90VNifFVv5VVbTbTXej5QnB8V1GJhNIdrKxQ0n8_PMTx8epU52p6uI_TkdJmbtElx0hlKUKX82WBY9p-gJGMeli1fcRA5u_OP2PKi4TSLPVzGFeo-T60o-wa6eshsSV8ZiL9N4BSL/s400/Indiana+Hoosiers.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aCOmD_wrAYohlbSwAhLfGV9GMVg8ekA3AMrW6rDPmeRJ6k4ddesDgX8H85GqTUoB-8ulEfyaL6ZmeYdjWdA1zOSveLr3AZlagbK_PA-XO7Z-lnwwKgyDf4dO6u3RtxMk2c-LsELtLsaH/s1600/Peglet+%26+Lynette.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 283px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405205594937223890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj4aCOmD_wrAYohlbSwAhLfGV9GMVg8ekA3AMrW6rDPmeRJ6k4ddesDgX8H85GqTUoB-8ulEfyaL6ZmeYdjWdA1zOSveLr3AZlagbK_PA-XO7Z-lnwwKgyDf4dO6u3RtxMk2c-LsELtLsaH/s400/Peglet+%26+Lynette.jpg" /></a>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3TdPZezTTNK2oaaKe3fV6ph_1rWh4ptH33KPxhtLc4C67QuckWVYT47UXKDB-RroONPuCvkEzXa4CKa406B52g9aNy1UEm_TpD0B7T7nwerWxl31ZLQdqXLLiDOU7mxcRjZNbXec24Zu/s1600/Lynette+%26+Hank.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5405204393486961266" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiP3TdPZezTTNK2oaaKe3fV6ph_1rWh4ptH33KPxhtLc4C67QuckWVYT47UXKDB-RroONPuCvkEzXa4CKa406B52g9aNy1UEm_TpD0B7T7nwerWxl31ZLQdqXLLiDOU7mxcRjZNbXec24Zu/s400/Lynette+%26+Hank.jpg" /></a>
Although both missed being born in the month of November by only a few days, my wife of 29-plus years, Peggyjo Hall Gupton (at left in the top photo), and my cousin Hank Gupton's wife A. Lynette Parsons are among the most beautiful, intelligent and compassionate people in my small circle of friends. The two photos above were all taken in the summer of 2000 on a trip the four of us took to The Beau Rivage Hotel and Casino in Biloxi, Mississippi. Hank, who is the son of my father Rex Gupton's younger brother, Marvin Aubrey "Hank" Gupton, was born on November 19, 1946, and will be celebrating his 63rd birthday in a couple days. Lynette, his soulmate and best friend, was born on December 4th. Peggy, the love of my life who has put up with all of my shit for far too many years, was born on December 7th. Since I was brought up right by a mother who claimed she was 39 for over 30 years, I will abstain from revealing Peggy and Lynette's ages. Not simply because I am a nice guy, but also because both women can kick my ass. So I wrap up this little salute to the friends and family members I love so very much who each have their November births in common, as well as their contiguous ties to me to boot, by wishing each of you a heartfelt "Happy Birthday" and adding three little words as icing on the cake. "I Love You" for being so very special to me over the span of the many years that I have been around on this great earth. Each of you mentioned above mean more to me than words can adequately describe. Here's a little toast to all of you, so raise those glasses high and clink them together in unison while I say from the bottom of my heart, "May each of you live forever, and may the last face you see be mine!"</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-7442794438020927982009-11-10T14:57:00.011-06:002009-11-10T18:07:28.239-06:00Disabled Man Who Inspires Me Wins Award<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhykwoI_Tfa5rHPxciXHZV9TKuVhflpKr4IFRM9PSspW_qhYZtIX0DdvCW6U3aq8pkecCSJikaHoGV4rmZtszgTB4uCZ95E2Xm5_UcyzuL5CdArE2veOIajiL6SL7EAvMNWVjkLg0hdrTGl/s1600-h/David+Carey.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 237px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402608874859254306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhykwoI_Tfa5rHPxciXHZV9TKuVhflpKr4IFRM9PSspW_qhYZtIX0DdvCW6U3aq8pkecCSJikaHoGV4rmZtszgTB4uCZ95E2Xm5_UcyzuL5CdArE2veOIajiL6SL7EAvMNWVjkLg0hdrTGl/s400/David+Carey.jpg" /></a>
One split second. That is all it took to turn David Wes Carey's young life totally upside down. It is also the name of the Bay City, Texas, native's website. Now residing in Tempe, Arizona, David Carey is looking forward to a milestone achievement next week. He will celebrate his 40th birthday on November 17, 2009. His older sister, Anita Rutherford, tells me that her brother's birthday will not be taken lightly by him or his loving family. "The doctors didn't think he'd live 24 hours" after he was shot in the back in 1989 during a freakish accident that left him paralyzed for life. "They couldn't even guarantee he'd be alive when I got there," said his mother, Cora Carey, reflecting on the chaotic situation from 20 years ago when she received the terrifying phone call at her Bay City home that her son had been shot. He was a long way from home, playing college baseball in Scottsdale, Arizona, when David Carey found himself struggling just to stay alive. "You're not concerned with what's going on around you, you're concerned with staying alive," David told a Mesa Tribune reporter about his ordeal in the days and weeks following the incident.
Last month David travelled to Washington, D.C., to be honored with one of 10 prestigious Community Health Leaders Awards from the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation. David is pictured below at the awards banquet, held at the Mayflower Hotel in Washington, D.C., being applauded by those in attendance and posing for the camera with his surprise guests, his sister April Carey and her son Mike Carey who both live in Maryland. David, chairman of Inspire Human Services Co-op in Phoenix, Arizona, has been a tireless advocate for health care access for the disabled. He also was recognized for his efforts to ensure that individuals with disabilities have access to public transportation in Arizona. As a man who has overcome daunting physical and health challenges in his own life, David Carey successfully worked with the city of Tempe, Arizona, to put up traffic lights so people with disabilities living almost a mile away from the closest bus stop had safe access to that bus stop. Speaking of his recent honor in Washington, D.C., David said, "I have been fortunate to have a network of family members, caregivers and mentors that have made it possible for me to work to help others with disabilities. I hope that the nation's health reform efforts make it easier for those with disabilities to also access the health care coverage and support services to maintain independent lives in their communities."
The Community Health Leaders Award honors exceptional men and women from all over the nation who overcome significant obstacles to tackle some of the most challenging health and health care problems facing their communities and the nation. This year the Robert Wood Johnson Foundation received 532 nominations from across the United States and selected 10 outstanding individuals who have worked to improve health conditions in their communities with exceptional creativity, courage and commitment.
As the city editor for The Daily Tribune in Bay City, Texas, in 1989, I happened to be working the news desk the day the call came in about David Carey's tragic accident. I wrote a series of news articles and features on David, who I had witnessed first hand perform on the baseball diamond and gridiron when he was a student athlete at Bay City High School. The news of his shooting was devastating to me personally. But, as a professional, I took the necessary steps to gather what scant information was available at the time and write the first stories in The Daily Tribune on David's paralysis and battle for life. So when I was contacted recently by David's sister Anita and his mother Cora, it was wonderful news from my perspective that David was still alive today and doing very well for himself. The news of his national honor last month is very exciting for me, and I wanted to share this wonderful news with you, my loyal blog readers.
There is a videoclip available for viewing about David Carey and the prestigious honor that has been awarded him. Go to <a href="http://www.communityhealthleaders.org/news_features#carey">http://www.communityhealthleaders.org/news_features#carey</a> on the internet (that is an underscore line between news and features) and click on the videoclip associated with David Carey's story. I highly recommend anyone who is touched by this story (and I suggest you check your pulse if you are not, because you must be dead) view the videoclip and check out David Carey's personal website at <a href="http://www.onesplitsecond.com/">http://www.onesplitsecond.com/</a> to learn more about this inspiring former Bay City High School versatile athlete who has made the best of an extremely bad situation. His sister Anita told me that David does all of the work on his website himself, using a mouth pick to type on his computer's keyboard. "He's gotten pretty fast at it," Anita told me. I hope those reading this blog will view David's website (I have added it to my suggested alternate websites on my blog) and read about his recent national honor at the Community Health Leaders website that I listed above.
Talk about awe-inspiring! That is the David Carey story in a nutshell. Cut down by a stray bullet at the age of 19, when his young life was just getting started, his college sports career abruptly terminated, his life forever altered, David refused to allow his handicap and his date with misfortune to snuff out all of his dreams. He returned to the campus of Scottsdale Community College in a wheelchair the following fall, graduating from SCC in 1993. He earned a bachelors degree in physical education from Arizona State University in 1997. Since March of the year 2000, David Carey has served as an advocacy specialist for Arizona Bridge To Independent Living in Phoenix, Arizona. When I punched in the numbers on my cell phone his sister Anita supplied me in an email in order to get in contact with David, my mind was picturing a down-and-out quadriplegic wasting away in a bed somewhere, hoping someone, anyone, would call him or drop by to visit him. Man, was I ever wrong. When he answered my phone call, David Carey was busy with his daily routine but agreed to take a few minutes out of his busy schedule to talk with me. He said it was good to hear from me after all these many years. Likewise, my inspirational friend. And, although it had been about 20 years since I last talked with David on the telephone, my memory brought back a very weak voice on the other end of the line (me in Bay City, he in an Arizona hospital) from our lone phone conversation during the time of his initial recovery phase from the shooting. Last week David's voice was strong, his story of the things he had accomplished since we had last spoken very impressive. He talked with me about his recent trip to our nation's capitol, another airplane ride he took in recent years to Atlanta, Georgia, and chose to speak more at length on his daily routine and his efforts as an advocate for handicapped people in the State of Arizona. I told him on the phone that I still recalled watching him play football and baseball for Bay City High School in the late 1980s when I was working as a reporter for his hometown's daily newspaper. I mentioned that I was also born in Bay City, although my family never actually called Bay City home. I asked where the Black Cats were playing the time I saw him hit two home runs in the same game. He said he no longer remembered, adding that my memory appeared to be better than his. I saw him play in West Columbia (my home town) against the Roughnecks and also was in the stands for a couple of his home games in Bay City when he was an outstanding pitcher and outfielder for the Cats. David stood about 6 feet, 3 inches or perhaps 6'4" and was impressive on the baseball diamond in high school because of his stature and lanky build. When I first saw the photos of David provided to The Daily Tribune by his mother and sister back in 1989, it was difficult to look at them because my memory of him was stuck like a freeze-frame of the athletically-built, tall young black man with the bright hazel eyes. He lost a great deal of weight in that first year after his accident. I have included a picture of David in his wheelchair that was mailed to me by his sister Anita within the first couple years following the shooting. I still have a videotape she provided me that included footage of David from his apartment, scooting around the parking lot in his motorized wheelchair, and of him trying to feed himself. He has slight usage of his left hand and arm so he is not totally paralyzed. But my wife and I both watched the videotape with tears streaming down our cheeks when we saw the film footage Anita had included of David in his Bay City High School days. Before the shooting. Before the paralysis. Long before that "one split second" changed this young man's life forever. It was heartbreaking.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgG-oR2ZWbT_ifmu4KqKQkwNeePHZsweolQutJAPIzQadxFkOzWIJQPt6Jz9nkS3xlNHfSOBZKWkPfj_kuHy_xMnyu_sgaUyvKXmmyPt8sJNBZ1F9FXeMgzQ-dP8nSnFpSvdz252iN-imG/s1600-h/David+%40+Ceremony.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 265px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402601279572194290" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgG-oR2ZWbT_ifmu4KqKQkwNeePHZsweolQutJAPIzQadxFkOzWIJQPt6Jz9nkS3xlNHfSOBZKWkPfj_kuHy_xMnyu_sgaUyvKXmmyPt8sJNBZ1F9FXeMgzQ-dP8nSnFpSvdz252iN-imG/s400/David+%40+Ceremony.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMky4VcxBrV-aIQ77rwYmiP2DFq1As3YOIriq3MQxGFROP2x3QcfjjFTSpsIqU6DM_wkkzOABBuBEzgCibPiqTE_GSX0aOEdNay1_nQM_iPcbxVkG_d6rq__Iy159L6veQBmcUDLu10j4/s1600-h/April,+Mike+%26+Wes.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 352px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402601044568689938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPMky4VcxBrV-aIQ77rwYmiP2DFq1As3YOIriq3MQxGFROP2x3QcfjjFTSpsIqU6DM_wkkzOABBuBEzgCibPiqTE_GSX0aOEdNay1_nQM_iPcbxVkG_d6rq__Iy159L6veQBmcUDLu10j4/s400/April,+Mike+%26+Wes.jpg" /></a>
<div>What happened to David Carey in the early morning hours of March 7, 1989, is unthinkable. How his collegiate baseball career was ended, his life altered and the manner in which he would be forced to rely on the assistance of others for the remainder of his days is as tragic and unbelievable as anyone could possibly fathom. David closed the door to his bedroom and went to sleep around 10:30 p.m. the night before the Scottsdale Community College baseball team was scheduled to leave early the next morning for a road game. He was sleeping comfortably with his back to his bedroom door, unaware that his roommate and a teammate of David's were handling what the two of them thought was an unloaded handgun in the living room of David's Scottsdale apartment. The clip had been removed from a 9mm pistol but one bullet remained in the chamber of the gun. At about 3 a.m. on March 7, 1989, one split second changed David Carey's life forever. I can still recall talking with a spokesman for the Maricopa County Sheriff's Department in the days following the shooting of David Carey from the pressroom of the Bay City newspaper I was the city editor of at the time. My heart sunk into the pit of my stomach as I frantically wrote down what the sheriff's deputy was describing to me on the phone. The trigger was pulled on the handgun by one of the two boys in the apartment, the bullet the two of them claimed to not know was still in the gun travelled down the hallway, through David's bedroom door and struck him high in the back, between the shoulder blades. The bullet shattered two of David Carey's vertebrae, then ricocheted up his spine, breaking his neck before lodging in his jaw. "I thought I'd had a stroke," David recalls about his initial waking moment when the bullet first struck him. "I couldn't move. When I woke up, I felt like I'd been electrocuted, but then it stopped. Then I felt a lump in my throat, and my mouth began to fill up with blood. I thought I was dreaming. After a minute, I realized I wasn't." The young man I had watched pitch for the Bay City Black Cats, who I had seen hit not one, but two home runs in the same game against my Columbia Roughnecks, told me that when the shooting took place he was sound asleep. He said he knew immediately something was terribly wrong, but he did not know what had happened to him. He tried to call out for help, but couldn't. He tried to move, but couldn't. His roommate and the teammate who had been playing with the handgun (which a Mesa Tribune article published in 1997 revealed had been stolen by the two young men earlier in the evening of Carey's shooting) eventually discovered what they had done and called an ambulance for their paralyzed friend. Doctors initially had little hope that David Carey would survive the shooting. His sister Anita Rutherford told me recently that David's family back in Bay City was told her brother probably would not survive the next 24 hours. So when she informed me this week that David would be celebrating his 40th birthday on November 17th, she made that statement with great pride and admiration for David's accomplishments over the past two decades. I share that joy in knowing David Carey is still alive and fighting the good fight.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYJ-xJZN1CEOIAgBLkCYdIcLi24G10BcKYpE3e-hvn4ZPOyx8w1cS9KrFkiyI_y9wHvYXnJ5bW0PD4TMZlYVDAuCMKqYYtNRWepReZx9EqDeD9vjeLQGsz4a-0SB0xaNFXasMh4w0cJzp/s1600-h/DC+at+Turner+Field.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402592855784933250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjvYJ-xJZN1CEOIAgBLkCYdIcLi24G10BcKYpE3e-hvn4ZPOyx8w1cS9KrFkiyI_y9wHvYXnJ5bW0PD4TMZlYVDAuCMKqYYtNRWepReZx9EqDeD9vjeLQGsz4a-0SB0xaNFXasMh4w0cJzp/s400/DC+at+Turner+Field.jpg" /></a>
<div>David Carey is pictured above at Turner Field in Atlanta, Georgia, when he took in an Atlanta Braves baseball game. Pitching in the major leagues was David's ultimate goal when he was throwing fastballs for the Bay City Black Cats in high school and at Scottsdale Community College in Arizona. A three-sport letterman in high school, David is pictured below (on the right) with two of his Black Cats' teammates from the 1986 season.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN83pmDllzTVJSElo9CJ_M0Lps_QpBd5H4WNAci_usKorN5kP4s8t9BZDSPAFHrzQELMK1IfPneD5egzGwqsmJhj_9WZUB1avhLPNRuD5W2hYzKGIJJD_rvDZGfFqQRibpJ-fnNRTvDTVd/s1600-h/Black+Cats.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 273px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402591714654073826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiN83pmDllzTVJSElo9CJ_M0Lps_QpBd5H4WNAci_usKorN5kP4s8t9BZDSPAFHrzQELMK1IfPneD5egzGwqsmJhj_9WZUB1avhLPNRuD5W2hYzKGIJJD_rvDZGfFqQRibpJ-fnNRTvDTVd/s400/Black+Cats.jpg" /></a>
<div>Reconnecting with David after all these years has answered a few questions and tied up several loose ends for me. Since walking away from the newspaper business in 1990 to pursue another line of work, I have often wondered what happened to David Carey. With him living in Arizona and me dropping anchor in my hometown of West Columbia, Texas, there were no easy avenues for me to pursue to find out about his well-being. Then, in October of 2009, thanks to the modern manner of socializing known as "Facebook" and "My Space" on the worldwide web, the two of us were able to reconnect. David's older sister, Anita Rutherford, contacted me on Facebook, inquiring if I was the same Tracy Gupton who had written the series of stories about her brother's accident in Bay City's local newspaper, "The Daily Tribune," about 20 years ago. Indeed I was. So, through emails, phone calls and Facebook connections, I was able to get back in touch with David Carey, his sister Anita, and their mother, Cora Carey. Facebook has been very helpful to me in reconnecting with relatives and old friends from my past. I have been thrilled to hook up once again with people I went to school with in West Columbia, to find out what's going on in the lives of distant cousins and former coworkers I haven't seen in decades, and to see baby pictures of several relatives whose children have recently given birth, making their mothers and fathers who are in my age range grandparents. But none of those recent connections with people from my past has meant more to me than finding David Carey and his family members. His story is among the saddest I ever had to write about during my decade as a reporter. There is not an accurate word in the dictionary to describe how impressed I was with both David and his beautiful family observing them from afar as each of them struggled to deal with his situation in 1989. I am well aware that his struggles have never ended. His is a daily battle with his paralysis that David must continue until his dying day. He has definitely made the best of a situation that none of us would ever want to have happen to ourselves or anyone else we care about. I honestly had to wipe tears away while typing out those stories I penned for The Daily Tribune some 20 years ago. It was such an emotional drain to have to report for the readers of Matagorda County on David Carey's situation in Arizona. His mother Cora and sisters Anita and April deserve much credit for their persistence in getting David's story out to the people back home in Texas. Anita informed me in an email I received from her yesterday that she called The Daily Tribune recently to ask her former hometown newspaper in Bay City to write a story about her brother's recent award. She said the reporter she talked to on the phone seemed basically uninterested in her request. My intent is to get in touch with the local newspapers, former employers of mine, and see if I can't get some media coverage for a former Bay City High School athlete who, in my opinion, is very deserving of having readers of The Daily Tribune in Bay City and The Facts in Clute know about the national honor that was bestowed on him last month. Wish me luck! And please, keep David Wes Carey in your thoughts and prayers. </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78fLyD0qb3e-IYO9syUhowQlNWm5fznOo84nZA_u-GUQ-wyGxClGemGHazBLtboNnfnNYIaKg9BWrmUlBbVxD4FvffiBdYFw8RM-WAWIiWGVB6Aab8HsLYFjFpLjySAZkYPvhfOaf6jd2/s1600-h/Front+Lawn+Pic.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 262px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5402583388064841698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg78fLyD0qb3e-IYO9syUhowQlNWm5fznOo84nZA_u-GUQ-wyGxClGemGHazBLtboNnfnNYIaKg9BWrmUlBbVxD4FvffiBdYFw8RM-WAWIiWGVB6Aab8HsLYFjFpLjySAZkYPvhfOaf6jd2/s400/Front+Lawn+Pic.jpg" /></a>
<div>When David Carey posed for this photograph in the front lawn of his Bay City, Texas, home during his high school days in the late 1980s, his hopes and dreams were focused on playing college sports. The gifted athlete proudly sports his Black Cats letter jacket as he smiles for the camera. David Carey lettered in varsity baseball, basketball and football at Bay City High School. </div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-74721019109098359492009-10-30T18:23:00.013-05:002009-11-01T10:00:01.325-06:00Booooooo To You! Happy Halloween From Gup!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7UyrZZSxs6Eloq7cKE5DPrhRvfXcjlsyCOTBBg19g54liXMR6NpKT4eGj7S-o8b9k1dpIGeSrRePTTYw2bCNfluJuuo13mbuZK8xTTIKpESAGaHAvQQCRtznHnOlFaHlkaWqXGuoiipd/s1600-h/Peewee+Blake.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398542848032338146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEho7UyrZZSxs6Eloq7cKE5DPrhRvfXcjlsyCOTBBg19g54liXMR6NpKT4eGj7S-o8b9k1dpIGeSrRePTTYw2bCNfluJuuo13mbuZK8xTTIKpESAGaHAvQQCRtznHnOlFaHlkaWqXGuoiipd/s400/Peewee+Blake.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcG_bb-o1MhhIF71wYbNorJJiMRsfX-S3iPBs3q66T11zunZIwXNpKZm7e9UGVss9fr7ACLjz8mk0pithCw3p_Uf_TZiqTIYCyJ3qQW53bDWw8XcA0cZyD83Z6oTztn_EHYL08hqM7iLwo/s1600-h/Emily+and+Natalie.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398542663658274178" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhcG_bb-o1MhhIF71wYbNorJJiMRsfX-S3iPBs3q66T11zunZIwXNpKZm7e9UGVss9fr7ACLjz8mk0pithCw3p_Uf_TZiqTIYCyJ3qQW53bDWw8XcA0cZyD83Z6oTztn_EHYL08hqM7iLwo/s400/Emily+and+Natalie.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhor8gGqKX4l1y84NKExKsHLxL56SFJoDovpR-UfRxQ8D1rWiNTuGCPTqGJt6qtCPtaS4VWYBp-zOdF3AxwM0vkp2K1JCCnfN4q3bl4Wjbcjd7KjjPSL2jI-rM1yB3HR_Ivwdq1T9yIH73r/s1600-h/2001+Picture.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 255px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398542362643796002" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhor8gGqKX4l1y84NKExKsHLxL56SFJoDovpR-UfRxQ8D1rWiNTuGCPTqGJt6qtCPtaS4VWYBp-zOdF3AxwM0vkp2K1JCCnfN4q3bl4Wjbcjd7KjjPSL2jI-rM1yB3HR_Ivwdq1T9yIH73r/s400/2001+Picture.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0tlatIMT0UVqhKCHCvAabuWRIu1Na1DmWe30yFcpGSTJ3AhYm1s4q22PMqm1S6HyVN7sfUGmMHeRtnmMW0gKaBLTvWVgGK82-PChRLNoO1e1UJBnqVA68CkEtBbcogIkLTiYsh9TeaZC/s1600-h/Wimp+Pip.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 248px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398542240971777250" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_0tlatIMT0UVqhKCHCvAabuWRIu1Na1DmWe30yFcpGSTJ3AhYm1s4q22PMqm1S6HyVN7sfUGmMHeRtnmMW0gKaBLTvWVgGK82-PChRLNoO1e1UJBnqVA68CkEtBbcogIkLTiYsh9TeaZC/s400/Wimp+Pip.jpg" /></a> Pictured in the photos above are my son Blake Gupton when his mother Peggy sent him out trick-or-treating as Peewee Herman. My niece Natalie Kuban is shown in the second photo with one of her new Aggie friends as they create a jack-o-lantern from a pumpkin at Texas A&M in a recent photo. Natalie and her boyfriend Taylor Lane are freshmen in Aggieland and my son Bret, shown in the next photo, is a senior at Texas A&M now. I photographed Bret and his buddy Adrian "Wimpy" Pipkins several years ago with the pumpkin and floral display at one of my company barbecues in Old Ocean. Cody Smith, the son of our longtime best buddy Theresa Smith and the late Junior Smith, is pictured holding an enormous pumpkin below at right in a photo I took many years ago. And the newlyweds, my son Brian Gupton and his new bride Tiffanie, are shown below at left in a recent photograph.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8HWRJ70mIx-ETcUqdljfnE9-RPetkR-NrZq6y6dyzgiLGYN2OXIebWMXKkgIfZFblhwL5mkl-DNYEvLJr4cPhGKk4lWymywUIYqoQJaylx6cKXGoHxny4c8jgOxUZGs9DKlhQqx2mc19/s1600-h/Pumpkin+Patch.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 300px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398542012704135106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhv8HWRJ70mIx-ETcUqdljfnE9-RPetkR-NrZq6y6dyzgiLGYN2OXIebWMXKkgIfZFblhwL5mkl-DNYEvLJr4cPhGKk4lWymywUIYqoQJaylx6cKXGoHxny4c8jgOxUZGs9DKlhQqx2mc19/s400/Pumpkin+Patch.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS6BrgEoWHuA8y8C7lYjplqROP0MnpCq-bTF7p7VSOVkvWARDsSM3Cd_JwbdOwGiOKasMNjKLl2rCdbSVMZpoodOEt4ipM5nzO3QjjPnL9906Mbm_RUeSNiHOi17LWjROUOUGxLt6qLFg-/s1600-h/Cody+Smith.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 286px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398541587657270370" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhS6BrgEoWHuA8y8C7lYjplqROP0MnpCq-bTF7p7VSOVkvWARDsSM3Cd_JwbdOwGiOKasMNjKLl2rCdbSVMZpoodOEt4ipM5nzO3QjjPnL9906Mbm_RUeSNiHOi17LWjROUOUGxLt6qLFg-/s400/Cody+Smith.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLM4UKLm1PC8bbk9pF8_1fHh5vKgnmtYcinyHP1GcwRz_IjQTZvKKzx-qk7Bg1K8Q6JqRhQ5nj7CPKUKxheBDwXg5TN0LTix2pTjaSLdA_qr3PzRoW21kXa5Pq95cZ-y6N3CXgBflS42I/s1600-h/Dodds+kid.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398541226628090914" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhoLM4UKLm1PC8bbk9pF8_1fHh5vKgnmtYcinyHP1GcwRz_IjQTZvKKzx-qk7Bg1K8Q6JqRhQ5nj7CPKUKxheBDwXg5TN0LTix2pTjaSLdA_qr3PzRoW21kXa5Pq95cZ-y6N3CXgBflS42I/s400/Dodds+kid.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVlYse9dbrCM9DgRRXya7tFNHSdfkbhRBTnP13fsa3vc1FH-S-DMLC4WjaFPDPWvajFiUp1blpX6FTiX9YgnAhxPTmtN5ZQT8HcvwZgiUHHtxHRMfPQViLFbx80KO6V8BFAxcueB61P8qw/s1600-h/Clown+Blake.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 289px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398540720854122114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVlYse9dbrCM9DgRRXya7tFNHSdfkbhRBTnP13fsa3vc1FH-S-DMLC4WjaFPDPWvajFiUp1blpX6FTiX9YgnAhxPTmtN5ZQT8HcvwZgiUHHtxHRMfPQViLFbx80KO6V8BFAxcueB61P8qw/s400/Clown+Blake.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rI-Pu5irEJpxghkX0iE6frtUBEor8al3C05A3VA0l73FN1jtQ4nw3BQvPnJPnNCYF5tn9dd-j_RnWohicdZsMpWE3d7zp6ZXeVdTsiYutUK_FDdZNLs6EwjJPYfQw0mZgDDVvEUPtcwh/s1600-h/Witch+%26+Tom.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398539972236403554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi8rI-Pu5irEJpxghkX0iE6frtUBEor8al3C05A3VA0l73FN1jtQ4nw3BQvPnJPnNCYF5tn9dd-j_RnWohicdZsMpWE3d7zp6ZXeVdTsiYutUK_FDdZNLs6EwjJPYfQw0mZgDDVvEUPtcwh/s400/Witch+%26+Tom.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOhpTZgahX8twx-OQXDjMoX3hz-yDIMIGAFeesJE50Sqv1EyGZ4MuvWzZN4K5GbYun83__3kasRN_ojSLTpZ-GJuvVau2I_HgjKETq1_syEBvFYkgdhdtEG3dJXJxLnek0fZoWMVyVQl1/s1600-h/Boo+1958.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 374px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398538847041058114" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjtOhpTZgahX8twx-OQXDjMoX3hz-yDIMIGAFeesJE50Sqv1EyGZ4MuvWzZN4K5GbYun83__3kasRN_ojSLTpZ-GJuvVau2I_HgjKETq1_syEBvFYkgdhdtEG3dJXJxLnek0fZoWMVyVQl1/s400/Boo+1958.jpg" /></a> The photo above is of my youngest son, Blake Gupton, the year he dressed up as a clown. A multi-colored Afro wig topped off the ensemble, but Blake hated it and kept taking it off. The other Halloween photo above is of my sister Kelli's youngest children, Natalie (the wicked witch) and Tommy (the Army man) Kuban, when Kelli and Chris and their kids lived in Needville.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jhRcjExrMe49CU_KHr9ZDF_wsp5ioUOerJ5MEW-aJhhB0APR2QHZqbDG6PoqXRfv8aXNBjbP2GtVPhFnmBh4ct8X9lD44KD9rcfSUggBznaEC3ukYKt8XRYhrTr2IprPTTFdPcpSSlIx/s1600-h/Gup's+First+Halloween.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 299px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5398538697227919362" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-jhRcjExrMe49CU_KHr9ZDF_wsp5ioUOerJ5MEW-aJhhB0APR2QHZqbDG6PoqXRfv8aXNBjbP2GtVPhFnmBh4ct8X9lD44KD9rcfSUggBznaEC3ukYKt8XRYhrTr2IprPTTFdPcpSSlIx/s400/Gup's+First+Halloween.jpg" /></a>
<div>These two photos were taken by my mother, the late Verna Gupton, in 1958 at the first house I lived in when my family was calling Markham, Texas, home. I'm the little tyke seated on the rocking horse. The scary bigger boy is my brother Cody. I was 22 months old at the time and Cody had celebrated his fifth birthday the day before.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-20790859574801133662009-10-27T21:33:00.010-05:002009-10-28T03:41:50.620-05:00Killers Deserve Same Compassion They Dished OutCurrent headlines cry out about <em>compassion</em> and how it applies to convicted murderers, as if their bouts with fatal illnesses<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXi9bYn4u-EV4O12DtzGBM9xktMiXR_vqvm2ktddU0ObLUqoyX7eD4fP95tld-u9U3c60rCST0oPtLtDANkqg-dDVolRlD2Q8hDb0LGG0rjl4ChoIKvbUncKO4AX40w3w0wMhhbgXKb0FT/s1600-h/Sharon+and+Jay.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 265px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397531345149919330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXi9bYn4u-EV4O12DtzGBM9xktMiXR_vqvm2ktddU0ObLUqoyX7eD4fP95tld-u9U3c60rCST0oPtLtDANkqg-dDVolRlD2Q8hDb0LGG0rjl4ChoIKvbUncKO4AX40w3w0wMhhbgXKb0FT/s400/Sharon+and+Jay.jpg" /></a> excuse them of the heinous crimes against mankind these scumbags have been convicted of. I was livid when I learned recently that Scotland had released convicted Lockerbie bomber Abdelbasset Ali Mohmed Al Megrahi to return home to Libya. Megrahi was released in August from a Scottish jail--where he was serving life for the 1988 bombing of PanAm flight 103 over Lockerbie, which killed 270--on <em>compassionate</em> grounds due to his terminal prostate cancer. Libyan leader Moamar Gadhafi gave Megrahi a hero's welcome when the only one of Gadhafi's countrymen convicted in the bombing of PanAm 103 arrived in Tripoli on August 20, 2009.
Megrahi reportedly had a life expectancy of less than three months when the decision was made by Scottish officials to allow the mass murderer to go home to die. President Barack Obama voiced outrage at the Scot's decision, primarily because 190 of the 270 people killed in the December 21, 1988, airline bombing were American citizens. Megrahi was released from prison in time to return to Libya for the start of Ramadan. Well, ain't that nice? I will never possess the capacity to comprehend nor the power to agree with the kind of thinking that allows such idiotic decisions to be made. A human being, in my opinion, is no longer a viable candidate for compassion of any kind from his or her fellow humans when they are responsible for the loss of multiple lives. This way of thinking also applies to killers like Susan Atkins, who had gained considerable support from public opinion in her attempts to receive parole from prison earlier this year when she was dying from brain cancer.
For those of you who have forgotten, Atkins was a participant in the murders attributed to the Manson Family in 1969 in the Los Angeles area. Among those murdered in Manson's gang's killing spree were (pictured above, at right) actress Sharon Tate and Jay Sebring of the Sebring hair products fame. Slightly tempering my vitriolic response to Megrahi's release on <em>compassionate</em> grounds, was the California parole board's decision to deny Atkins's request for parole on similar grounds about two weeks later. Atkins died on September 24, 2009, at the Central California Women's facility in Chowchilla. Reportedly her last whispered word was "Amen."
Los Angeles County District Attorney Steve Cooley opposed Atkins's request for parole, writing in a letter to the parole board, her release "would be an affront to people of this state, the California criminal justice system and the next of kin of many murder victims. Atkins's horrific crimes alone warrant a denial of her request."
Vincent Bugliosi, the district attorney who prosecuted the Manson Family killers and wrote the highly successful book "Helter Skelter" about the criminal case, said he was not opposed to Atkins being released from prison to die from her brain cancer at home. "She has paid substantially, though not completely, for her horrendous crimes. Paying completely would be imposing the death penalty."
Which is exactly what Charles Manson and his followers all deserved, death, not the life sentences most of them have been serving since being convicted of multiple murders. Steve Grogan, convicted in 1971 for helping Manson, Tex Watson and Bruce Davis kill Spahn's Ranch hand Donald "Shorty" Shea, was released from prison in 1985 and remains the only Manson Family member that's been convicted of murder to be released from prison. Grogan, who is now 63, drew a map for authorities to find Shea's buried body.
Also in the news currently is the big debate over capital punishment in the State of Texas, sparked by the recent release from death row of Ernest Willis, a West Texas man who spent 17 years in prison. Willis, 64, was sentenced to death for a 1986 house fire in the Pecos County town of Iraan in which two sleeping women died.
Another arson-related multiple murder incident in Texas involves Cameron Todd Willingham. But while Willis has been released from death row, it is too late to save Willingham. He was executed by lethal injection on February 17, 2004. Willingham was convicted in August 1992 of the arson murders of his three children--2-year-old Amber and 1-year-old twins Karmon Diane and Kameron Marie--and sentenced to pay with his life.
The pitfalls of capital punishment come to the forefront in the cases of Ernest Willis and Cameron Todd Willingham. Their cases were among those to be discussed at an October 2nd meeting of the Texas Forensic Science Commission that was derailed when Texas Governor Rick Perry unexpectedly removed the commission's chairman and two other members. Perry has insisted Willingham was guilty of setting the 1991 Corsicana house fire in which his young children died.
In 2004 a federal judge ruled that authorities wrongly dosed Willis with anti-psychotic drugs during his trial, leaving him a virtual zombie. The federal judge demanded that Willis be retried or set free. A Pecos County district attorney then dropped the charges against Willis, admitting that the Iraan fire appeared to have been an accident.
While on death row, Willis said he never gave up hope that he would be able to avoid his date with the death chamber. "It made it a lot tougher knowing that I was innocent," Willis lamented. "If I had been guilty, I would have been ready to face the music. But I tried never to give up hope. I was always preparing myself for release."
The criminal justice system in Texas is far from perfect. Carl Wayne Buntion's stroke of luck has my temperature rising. It irritates the hell out of me that Buntion will be getting a new trial because the decision that sent him to death row for murdering Houston Police Officer James Irby nearly 20 years ago was recently overturned. The state's appellate court basically said the jury in Buntion's punishment phase simply did not have all of the information when they sentenced him to death back in 1991. His murder conviction stands. Buntion is still guilty of shooting Officer Irby in the head during a minor traffic stop in 1990.
It appears the jury did not get to consider Buntion's troubled childhood and mental health issues during the punishment phase. Oh, don't get me started on that one. A troubled childhood? Mental health issues? How do those issues even deserve a spot on the punishment radar? Did Carl Wayne Buntion shoot HPD Officer James Irby in the head in a 1990 traffic stop? Yes, he did. End of story.
Reginald Blanton was scheduled to be administered lethal injection Tuesday night in Huntsville. If I had anything to say about it, I would have Carl Wayne Buntion wheeled in on another gurney directly behind the Blanton dude so Reggie would have some company on his midnight ride to hades. Why waste the taxpayers' money feeding human slime like Buntion while he remains on death row awaiting another punishment trial in Houston.
And Blanton, there's a true paragon of virtue. He was captured on videotape in April 2000 selling two gold necklaces at a San Antonio pawn shop. It turns out those necklaces belonged to 22-year-old Carlos Garza, who had been shot to death at his apartment in the Alamo City about 20 minutes prior to Blanton waltzing into the pawn shop to sell his gold chains.
Other good news for supporters of capital punishment--a necessary evil in a world where street thugs will take your life for the hundred dollar Jordans on your feet and the fistful of Washingtons in your pockets--comes in the announcement this week that the Texas Court of Criminal Appeals affirmed the capital murder convictions and death sentences of Howard Paul Guidry and John Steven Gardner. The two Texas death row inmates, one a hit man in a murder-for-hire plot and the other a man who killed his wife, had their appeals denied. Guidry was convicted in 1997 in the shooting death of 33-year-old Farah Fratta in Harris County. Gardner was convicted in the 2005 shooting death of his wife, Tammy Dawn Gardner, in her Collin County home shortly before their divorce was to become final.
If there ever was a criminal deserving of the death penalty as punishment for his crimes it was Jeffrey Dahmer. He was apprehended on July 22, 1991, by Milwaukee police and later convicted of the gruesome killings of 17 male victims in a highly publicized case of mass murder. But the state of Wisconsin does not have the death penalty, so Dahmer was sentenced to 15 life terms in prison. Did Dahmer receive a just punishment when fellow inmate Christopher Scarver beat him to death with a barbell at the Columbia Correctional Institution in Portage, Wisconsin on November 28, 1994? I think so. The first of Dahmer's 17 murder victims was bludgeoned to death with a barbell. Dahmer, pictured below at left, declared himself a born again Christian while in prison. This is a conversion many inmates claim while behind bars. Does such a conversion allow these killers ascension into heaven upon their deaths? I think not. But this is where my opinions and those of many Christians part ways. Tex Watson, the most active participant in the well publicized killings of the Manson Family in 1969, wrote that he became a born-again Christian in prison and operates "Abounding Love Ministries" while remaining incarcerated. He has written about his role in the murders, the sorrow he feels for his involvement, and has made an apology to the family members of his victims on his website, stating that he believes he is "forgiven by God."
Do you think God has forgiven Howard Barton Unruh for the seemingly random murders of 13 people in Camden, New Jersey, in 1949? Unruh died October 19, 2009, at the age of 88 following a lengthy illness in a Trenton, New Jersey, nursing facility. Unruh had been confined in a state psychiatric hospital since being diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia by psychologists and found to be hopelessly insane. The diagnosis, which prevented Unruh from being prosecuted for his September 6, 1949, killing spree, was followed by the mass murderer's statement, "I'd have killed a thousand if I had bullets enough."
Unruh, a 28-year-old World War II veteran who fought at the Battle of the Bulge, took only 12 minutes to shoot and kill 13 of his East Camden, New Jersey, neighbors with a German Luger pistol. Among his murder victims were a 9-year-old, 6-year-old and 2-year-old. In reading earlier this week of the death of Howard Unruh and the horrendous crimes he committed long before I was born, I could only voice regrets that there was nobody like Christopher Scarver locked up with Unruh who had a set of barbells nearby.
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<div>Are redemption and rehabilitation possible inside the concrete walls of our nation's prisons? Yes, I believe they are, in isolated situations. But it is my opinion that parole and second chances should be reserved for those inmates whose crimes do not involve the taking of another human's life. And when the subject of weighing whether or not to release a convicted murderer from prison involves those who have killed multiple victims, it should be a moot point. No, never, ever, period. Compassion should never figure into the equation. Just look at the photo of Sharon Tate below. What a truly beautiful woman. She was still in her twenties, within weeks of giving birth of her first child, when she was murdered by a gang that showed zero compassion to her, her unborn baby, and the other people with her the night they were all killed in 1969. So when Susan Denise Atkins was denied parole on September 2nd of this year despite being paralyzed over 85 percent of her body, unable to sit up on her own, brain cancer slowly killing her, I believe the Californai parole board made the right decision. A difficult one, yes, but still the right decision. Read on about Atkins's crimes and perhaps you will understand why I take this stance against her parole.</div>
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<div>Charles Manson, pictured at right below, was denied parole for the eleventh time on May 23, 2007. His next parole hearing is scheduled in 2012. Manson, now 74 years old, seemingly had the members of his "family" under his spell in 1969 when he orchestrated the mass murders of people he did not know and who had done nothing to harm him or any of the members of his blood thirsty gang of assassins. Their crimes were detailed in the book and TV movie "Helter Skelter" and all of them would have been executed, and justly so, many years ago if not for the California Supreme Court's People vs. Anderson decision that invalidated all death sentences imposed in California prior to 1972. Thus vicious killers like Charles Manson, Tex Watson and Robert F. Kennedy's assassin Sirhan Bishara Sirhan had their death sentences <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnk8K9ZENyb4Z61r40gzEboHbE8NtOTnfiglYvl7TL5Rx5yJO3u_8Jh9UE_hd2_-H1iGNpS6gcj-UvAW6PH_kvHPM6wD5k4DaX8Glcd8esUcvYgYj7UMGeldcdTU7aiu9lrf1nvjSgxHH/s1600-h/Charlie+Manson.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 270px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 269px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5397513947620051938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGnk8K9ZENyb4Z61r40gzEboHbE8NtOTnfiglYvl7TL5Rx5yJO3u_8Jh9UE_hd2_-H1iGNpS6gcj-UvAW6PH_kvHPM6wD5k4DaX8Glcd8esUcvYgYj7UMGeldcdTU7aiu9lrf1nvjSgxHH/s400/Charlie+Manson.jpg" /></a>changed to life imprisonment.
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<div>On the evening of August 8, 1969, Charles Manson gathered Atkins, Linda Kasabian and Patricia Krenwinkel in front of Spahn's Ranch and told them to go with Charles "Tex" Watson and do as they were told. In Atkins' grand jury testimony, she stated that while in the car, Watson told the group they were going to a home to get money from the people who lived there and to kill them. Five people were murdered at the Beverly Hills home where movie director Roman Polanski and his actress wife, Sharon Tate, lived. Tate, a sexy blond beauty (pictured at left) who starred in the movie "Valley Of The Dolls," was eight months pregnant with Polanski's child. Murdered that night by Manson's group of killers were Tate, Steven Parent, Jay Sebring, Wojciech Frykowski and Abigail Folger. Polanski was in Europe at the time of the killings, finishing work on a film project.</div>
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<div>Forensic evidence indicated that the murders were extremely brutal. Just prior to leaving the Polanski-Tate residence, Atkins wrote "PIG" on the front door in Sharon Tate's blood. Watson, a Dallas native who claimed to have been high on speed the night of the killings, allegedly told Frykowski prior to killing him, "I am the devil, and I'm here to do the devil's business." In testimony at his murder trial, Watson denied having made that remark but later acknowledged saying it in his autobiography. </div>
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<div>On the night after the pregnant Sharon Tate and her house guests were all murdered, Manson called Atkins, Krenwinkel, Watson, Kasabian, Leslie Van Houten and Steve Grogan to join him for another night of carnage. Manson and Watson entered the home of grocery store owner Leno LaBianca and his wife Rosemary in Los Feliz, a Los Angeles suburb, and tied them up at gunpoint. Manson then allegedly went outside the house and sent Krenwinkel and Van Houten inside to do as Watson told them. Manson instructed the women to leave messages in blood as they had done the night before at the Polanski mansion. </div>
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<div>Another member of Manson's group at Spahn's Ranch implicated Atkins in the murders and she was arrested by Los Angeles police in October 1969. While in jail, Atkins confessed her participation in the Tate/LaBianca murders to two cellmates who later reported her statements to the authorities. Atkins agreed to testify for the prosecution in exchange for avoiding the death penalty, and she then testified before the grand jury as to what had transpired on the nights of August 8 and 9, 1969.</div>
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<div>Atkins told the grand jury that she stabbed Frykowski in the legs and that she held Tate down while Watson stabbed her. She also testified that Tate had pleaded for her life and that of her unborn child, to which Atkins replied, "Woman, I have no mercy for you." Atkins later claimed her participation in the murders was passive and that she did not actually kill anyone. In his 1978 memoir, Watson declared himself solely responsible for all of Tate's injuries, characterizing Atkins' initial confessions as exaggeration, jail house bragging, and a bid for attention.</div>
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<div>In 1977, Atkins published her autobiography, "Child of Satan, Child of God," in which she recounted the time she spent with the Manson family, her religious conversion, and her prison experiences. From 1974 onwards, Atkins stated she was a born-again Christian. Yet she was denied parole 18 times and died in prison on September 24 of this year.</div>
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<div>Debra Tate, the sister of Sharon Tate, said her family was ripped apart by her famous sister's brutal and senseless 1969 murder. "If Susan Atkins is released to rejoin her family, where is the justice?"
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<div>Charles Denton "Tex" Watson, pictured below at right, was tried separately from the other members of Charles Manson's "Family" and was convicted of multiple murders and sentenced to death on October 21, 1971. Spared execution like his other Manson Family members when his death penalty was changed to life in prison, Watson remains incarcerated today in Mule Creek State Prison in Ione, California. He has been denied parole 13 times. His next scheduled parole hearing is in December, 2011. Tex Watson is now 63 years old.</div>
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<div>Doris Tate, the mother of actress Sharon Tate, addressed Watson at his parole hearing in 1984. "What mercy, sir, did you show my daughter when she was begging for her life?" Doris Tate asked Watson when he was asking the California parole board to show him mercy and grant him parole. "What mercy did you show my daughter when she said give me two weeks to have my baby and then you can kill me? When will Sharon come up for parole? Will these seven victims and possibly more walk out of their graves if you get paroled?"</div>
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<div>Doris Tate, who died in 1992 at the age of 68, confronted Watson again at his 1990 parole hearing. Her work as an advocate for victim's rights was taken over by her daughter, Patti, who was involved in the establishment of the Doris Tate Crime Victims Bureau, a non-profit organization with the aim of monitoring criminal legislation and raising public awareness. Patti represented the Tate family at parole hearings for Manson and the other killers until 2000, when she died from breast cancer. Her role was assumed by the middle Tate daughter, Debra, who carries on the tradition of her mother and sister by appearing at parole hearings of the Manson Family members to voice opposition to any of them ever being paroled from prison.</div>
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<div>When television cameras focus on such celebrities as the Reverend Jesse Jackson, actor Danny Glover and Bianca Jagger, the ex-wife of Rolling Stones lead singer Mick Jagger, as they speak out at The Walls prison in Huntsville, Texas, in opposition of capital punishment, TV viewers seldom see a hint of the extreme anguish, suffering and intense grief the families and friends of those murderer's victims have had to endure. The media far too often give a platform to those crying out against the death penalty to seek forgiveness for the scum of society who are undeserving of such compassion.</div>
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<div>The Ernest Willis's of the world are by far the exception and not the rule. It is true that the execution of a single innocent man or woman is one too many. I agree that such an incident would be an unforgivable travesty. But to repeal the death penalty in the State of Texas due to the revelation that one innocent man might have been executed by mistake would be exactly that, a huge mistake. </div>
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<div>"Most of the people on death row are guilty," Willis was quoted as saying in a recent Houston Chronicle article. "But there's a small percentage who are not. Willingham told me he was innocent. His case was almost identical to mine. I believed him."</div>
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<div>Willingham's ex-wife does not agree with Willis's statements. "I believe he was guilty," said Stacy Kuykendall of her ex-husband. She told a Fort Worth Star-Telegram reporter that Willingham told her before his execution that he had set fire to the house and killed their children because he knew that she was going to leave him. "He was sorry for what he did," Kuykendall said. "But he did confess."</div>
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<div>"He started the fire and killed the kids," said Waco lawyer David Martin, Willingham's court-appointed attorney during his murder trial. "His conduct was really incriminating, and his statements were irreconcilably inconsistent."</div>
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<div>As Willingham's legal representative, Martin said he unsuccessfully tried to raise reasonable doubt in the minds of the jurors and believes that Willingham should have accepted a plea-bargain offer for life in prison to avoid his ultimate date in the Texas death chamber. Martin has claimed recently that he felt compelled to speak out in recent interviews, even though he has come under intense criticism from his former client's defenders for asserting that Willingham was guilty.</div>
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<div>"When it began to be expressed that an innocent man had been executed, I took an interest in responding to that because that's just not the case," Martin said in a recent interview at his ranch near Corsicana.</div>
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<div>The cornerstone of the state's case against Willingham was the arson investigation. An accelerant was splashed on the floor and near the threshold of the door of the home Willingham had shared with Kuykendall in 1991, arson investigators ruled. </div>
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<div>"I was completely convinced that it was both a murder and an arson fire," said John H. Jackson, a retired judge and the former assistant district attorney who led the prosecution of Willingham. "I think the death penalty opponents really do themselves a disservice by identifying this guy as a poster child. There are a lot of good arguments against the death penalty, but this is not one of them."</div>
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<div>"I don't know what he did," Willis says of Willingham, his fellow Texas death row inmate. But the West Texas man who spent 17 years on death row for an arson-murder he supposedly did not commit, says he is convinced the former Corsicana auto mechanic was innocent, based on his conversations with Willingham.</div>
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<div>The recently freed death row inmate is requesting that Texas Governor Rick Perry publicly admit the Lone Star State may have erred when Texas executed Willingham for intentionally killing his three children in 1991. "I think (Perry) should step up to the plate, call for a death penalty moratorium, listen to the experts and see what kind of situation we've got," Willis said in a telephone conversation with a Houston Chronicle reporter from his Midland home.</div>
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<div>Former Texas Governor Mark White, who was governor from 1983-87, agrees it is time the state reconsiders its use of capital punishment, basing his opinion on the risk being too great that innocent people could be put to death. White, a Democrat, said the death penalty no longer deters murder, long delays between convictions and executions show there is no swift justice, and he's increasingly concerned it isn't administered fairly. </div>
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<div>"There's a very strong case to be made for a review of our death penalty statutes and even look at the possibility of having life without parole so we don't look up one day and determine that we, as the state of Texas, have executed someone who in fact was innocent," White said. </div>
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<div>Twenty death row inmates were executed during the period Mark White was Texas's attorney general and governor between 1979 and 1987.</div>
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<div>Perry, Texas's longest-serving governor, has vigorously defended his actions in connection with Willingham's 2004 execution and depicts Willingham as "a monster." </div>
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<div>Unfortunately for all of us Texans and our fellow inhabitants of the rest of the world, far too many "monsters' lurk among us. In my little corner of the world in West Columbia, Texas, I have been appalled and shocked by the many heartless murders that have occurred in recent years in West Columbia, Brazoria, Sweeny, Old Ocean, Surfside and the Brazosport area. Life is a fragile commodity and I would definitely be opposed to any innocent life being taken, but I remain fully committed to throwing my support behind the continuation of capital punishment in my home state. I disagree with former Governor White, who I once interviewed at John Gayle's lake house near West Columbia when he was running for governor and I was the editor of The Brazoria County News. I think the death penalty remains a deterrant to murder to some degree. </div>
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<div>And I believe in the Biblical declaration that the taking of a human life must be subjected to the ultimate punishment of giving one's own life in return. Matthew, Chapter 5, Verse 21, in the Bible I was given as a child states, "Thou shalt not kill; and whosoever shall kill shall be in danger of the judgment."</div>
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<div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-2514598171341743672009-10-21T10:22:00.009-05:002009-10-21T11:44:04.637-05:00Brian Gupton Takes Tiffanie Hatley As His Bride<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUGm5plxGE7sICudqwsevN_s8Yh7wdX501OIMalelblriFFFZLvt4ZU6PyRcwfIqrB-3l1NSYqRVriVIIKl77XdPTNKahthhaBfHJWl63NLRfzNcAjlC4piICDN4xp16V4yENdM_rbEBs/s1600-h/The+I+Dos.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395094682934478658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrUGm5plxGE7sICudqwsevN_s8Yh7wdX501OIMalelblriFFFZLvt4ZU6PyRcwfIqrB-3l1NSYqRVriVIIKl77XdPTNKahthhaBfHJWl63NLRfzNcAjlC4piICDN4xp16V4yENdM_rbEBs/s400/The+I+Dos.jpg" /></a>
<div>Saturday, October 17, 2009, was definitely one of the highlights of this ol' boy's life. Brian Leslie Gupton, the 27-year-old son of my wife Peggy and I, got married. And what a lovely, picture-perfect occasion his wedding turned out to be. Peggy and I now have a daughter-in-law. She is the highly educated and attractive (cute as a button, my old man would say if he were alive to see his grandson's new bride) Tiffanie Hatley Gupton. Hey everybody, there is a new "T. Gup" in the family!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPP_5l4EbvX37jwl22KezK4PLEKLK-Xb-11LP3Rtho3zO59YYM_eo3plZJ8aDZms2IGRRC7lkPdj3Lgs6unRTgyzwPsoDM80w6h4o-oRYs31bMiM_zGq_snYcNftAKiNEPJVe5nZl8TYII/s1600-h/Tiffanie+Gup.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 276px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395087074755952466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjPP_5l4EbvX37jwl22KezK4PLEKLK-Xb-11LP3Rtho3zO59YYM_eo3plZJ8aDZms2IGRRC7lkPdj3Lgs6unRTgyzwPsoDM80w6h4o-oRYs31bMiM_zGq_snYcNftAKiNEPJVe5nZl8TYII/s400/Tiffanie+Gup.jpg" /></a> And she's a lot easier on the eyes than me.</div>
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<div>I have to admit I got a little misty eyed during the ceremony this past Saturday while seated on the first row in front of the antebellum mansion at West Columbia's Varner-Hogg State Park. With my wife Peggy on one side of me and my sister-in-law Andrea and my brother Cody on the other, I was engrossed in the moment. Seated with my wife of 29-plus years beside me, and so many family members and friends scattered out around me among the more than 200 people who attended the ceremony, the event was simply one of those reasons every man and woman can be thankful that they lived long enough to witness it. I think very highly of my son's choice for a wife. She is a graduate of The University of Houston and Katy Taylor High School who currently works for the UofH sports information department. She is witty and charming, to go along with being a real knockout in the looks department. Good choice, Briano!</div>
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<div>My wife and I and our other sons welcome Tiffanie into the family circle. Her parents, Joe and Tina Hatley, and younger sister Nicole are all welcome new in-laws that we look forward to spending several decades getting together with at family gatherings . . . and hopefully, one day in the not too distant future, sharing our grandchildren with. We're not rushing you, Brian and Tiff, but I'm just saying! I think the tumor has shifted, so don't wait forever, okay?</div>
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<div>If you attended the wedding then we were thankful you made the effort and hopeful that each of you were entertained. We dined at El Toro Mexican Restaurant in Clute Friday night for the rehearsal dinner, and Brian's buddy Chris Maynard provided the wedding meal through the Lake Jackson restaurant that he is the manager of, Johnny Carino's Italian Restaurant. Many thanks to those who provided and served the food and drinks, and a very special thank you is extended from Joe and Tina, as well as Peggy and myself, to everyone who chipped in and helped us out with the planning, preparation, setup and the take-down and cleanup the following day. And if you missed it, we regret that you were unable to attend our son's wedding this past Saturday. The marriage ceremony itself went off without a hitch. It was a beautiful ceremony, and the reception and dance that followed at the West Columbia Civic Center and American Legion Hall Pavilion was just as memorable. Especially for a proud old papa like me.
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<div>Sarah Sedlacek read from the Book of Colossians (3:12-17) and Sunshine Farris sang a beautiful solo, "Better Hands Now," prior to Rev. Joshua Farris marrying my son and his gorgeous new bride. Once the "I Do's" were exchanged (which included Brian saying, "For poorer and poorer," instead of "For richer and poorer" as Josh had instructed him to say) and Brian and Tiffanie were introduced to the large gathering of guests and the rest of the wedding party as the new Mr. and Mrs. Brian Leslie Gupton, the newlyweds and their party exited to the sounds of The Black Eyed Peas' song, "I Gotta Feeling."</div>
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<div>Serving as her sister's maid of honor was Nicole Hatley of Katy. The co-best men were the groom's two younger brothers, Bret and Blake Gupton of West Columbia. </div>
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<div>The bridesmaids were Sarah Sedlacek, Jessica Bammel, Natalie Kuban (the groom's cousin), Jamie Zarda, Brandi Clark, Beth Autenrieth, Jill Hartman and Wendy Thoe.</div>
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<div>The groomsmen were Bryn Caulkins, Dustin Mosteit (the groom's cousin), Chris Maynard, Josh Autenrieth, Matt Autenrieth, Desmond Early and Chad Thoe.</div>
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<div>Ushers in Tiffanie and Brian's wedding were Brandon Kuehler, Courtney Johnson and the groom's cousins, Tommy Kuban and Rex Layne Gupton.</div>
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<div>Tori Salyer and Gabi McClure helped with the wedding by signing in the guests. Among the honored guests were Katie Hatley Ward, the bride's grandmother.
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnffIoTCe0HxYglLnF1E4re16kOSn2MgXaJxYcXyo48czf-9CI-ATx9eeqPt4UCceJtrcFb6duui1he5TKbc7yz-LcR3180LhY0rfw_58DdU6eDJd3pPYb6WDqTi1Zwmr2T07QhH7wBVp/s1600-h/Joe+and+Tiff.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 298px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395079286718907426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgfnffIoTCe0HxYglLnF1E4re16kOSn2MgXaJxYcXyo48czf-9CI-ATx9eeqPt4UCceJtrcFb6duui1he5TKbc7yz-LcR3180LhY0rfw_58DdU6eDJd3pPYb6WDqTi1Zwmr2T07QhH7wBVp/s400/Joe+and+Tiff.jpg" /></a>
<div>The beautiful bride (and newest member of the Gupton family) is escorted by her father, Joe Hatley, to her waiting groom, Brian Gupton, at Saturday's wedding ceremony at Varner-Hogg State Park in West Columbia, Texas. Tiffanie and Joe made their grand entrance to the Jason Mraz tune, "I'm Yours."</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5aAdK7E7olMM5JhAnHAtopNYnqv-cJRJZwJEQIWWXADh32kMnFeCB0rsWEnk0vDyQQjpXqwfK40gpEWyX6uyTUWNAiML2qRKEN-5txaC2s-ztEl03-GBfKlouxHqpetoYeIZsTC410Twl/s1600-h/The+Mothers.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395077942003596658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5aAdK7E7olMM5JhAnHAtopNYnqv-cJRJZwJEQIWWXADh32kMnFeCB0rsWEnk0vDyQQjpXqwfK40gpEWyX6uyTUWNAiML2qRKEN-5txaC2s-ztEl03-GBfKlouxHqpetoYeIZsTC410Twl/s400/The+Mothers.jpg" /></a>
<div>That's me, the proud papa, trailing behind as my son Brian escorts the two moms to their seats prior to the beginning of his Saturday wedding to Tiffanie Hatley in front of the Varner-Hogg mansion in West Columbia. Brian's mother Peggy Gupton is pictured on the left and his new mother-in-law Tina Hatley is on the right.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OTWp44HCQYTtsk2uPfQYkEVX-vH-y3yvmFtuOj6K9HM9S7r4nyVrz2jlM6qnUuueCLQjU-1_laKl-Zy6_9UWJWZWLl_v8cLszzjAH4Ilonw634t5v_3-N4MsM8klN9elwfdJdDcdLbSp/s1600-h/Give+Me+Ring.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5395076208388194994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0OTWp44HCQYTtsk2uPfQYkEVX-vH-y3yvmFtuOj6K9HM9S7r4nyVrz2jlM6qnUuueCLQjU-1_laKl-Zy6_9UWJWZWLl_v8cLszzjAH4Ilonw634t5v_3-N4MsM8klN9elwfdJdDcdLbSp/s400/Give+Me+Ring.jpg" /></a>
<div>His two younger brothers, Bret and Blake, served as best men at the October 17th wedding of my son Brian Gupton. Joshua Farris, a good friend of Brian and Tiffanie, is pictured conducting the nuptials and patiently waiting for the Gupton brothers to come up with the wedding ring while laughing at the scripted confusion. It was more like the Marx Brothers in action.</div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-50839550777576642942009-10-09T11:29:00.012-05:002009-10-09T12:59:20.443-05:00The 60th Anniversary Of My Parents' Wedding<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSPZLcSFVbL5CCXcw0FHecWKLngarRgz4FMsBXxsqMmzr9xvz7UCQkS-I3mlpw1iPM7r5FaYAHIKsRL8gWZio_-6ffNpVskldMqFB9ELVloI2_SU_cDxviTwXIYBDY8vfkgcIrpICqviG/s1600-h/Bandera+Pic.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 271px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390653304211798850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEicSPZLcSFVbL5CCXcw0FHecWKLngarRgz4FMsBXxsqMmzr9xvz7UCQkS-I3mlpw1iPM7r5FaYAHIKsRL8gWZio_-6ffNpVskldMqFB9ELVloI2_SU_cDxviTwXIYBDY8vfkgcIrpICqviG/s400/Bandera+Pic.jpg" /></a>
<div>is today, October 9, 2009. Rex Gupton took the hand of Verna Mae Giesler in marriage on October 9, 1949, in the home of Charley and Neva Ellis in West Columbia, Texas. My dad's older brother, Judge Thurman Morris Gupton, performed the wedding ceremony in the Ellis's home, which is located a mere block away from where my grandparents' house stood in 1949. I sure wish mom and dad were here today to celebrate their 60th anniversary. Cancer claimed my wonderful mother at the age of 70 in 1996, so their 46th anniversary was the last these two true characters were allowed to spend together. Alzheimer's disease and heart failure were the culprits that eventually closed the book on my father's life in 2001. Ol' Rex died just four months shy of his 80th birthday. The photo above is how I would want to always remember my parents, having a great time with good friends and family members. The top picture was taken in Bandera, Texas, long before I was born. My parents loved to dance and both were "light on their feet" when a little sawdust could be spread on a wooden dance floor. Both my mother and father often told me how much they loved to spend time in Bandera when they were in the early years of their marriage. My mom is on the right and my dad on the left in the Bandera photo above. Their best friends, Louis and Maxine Wilson, are seated at the table with them, throwing back a few beers at a dance hall in the early 1950s. The lower photo was taken of my parents in the mid-fifties when they took a cross-country trip to Tennessee with my father's younger brother Hank and his wife Terry and their son "Little Hank" to visit Terry's family in Jackson, Tennessee. And the photo at top left is one of my favorites of the two people I loved the most as a child, my mother and father. I took that photo in front of the feed store in West Columbia that my parents ran for 26 years. They were both very proud of the plants and vegetables they sold at Gupton Feed and Ranch Supply, so I encouraged them to pose for my camera one sunny day when I captured them on film for posterity. Photos such as these displayed on my blog today are all we have left of Rex and Verna Gupton, so many years now after their deaths. The memories of them each of their offspring cherishes, that each grandchild, every niece and nephew and dear friend clings to in the present day, will always remain strong. So today, on the 60th anniversary of their marriage in 1949, our parents are toasted by their children and grandchildren. "Happy Anniversary" Rex and Verna, from your sons Cody and Tracy, your daughter Kelli, and from all the grandchildren and great-grandchildren who today carry on your great name and family tradition.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyxhYf7cgun2kSFe65m5Iws2CSnLCq4SjJnyQQQco7LRNudljVkUVDWRbaIbciGSQWzeO9EY6urQAxMGzOnTTyVaTUHvoBbvxJRCC6touJsBDCYHkT3_EiU7lbLqux_MGtJRYQ3FhORIk/s1600-h/1956+Photo.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 395px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390646633429688594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhiyxhYf7cgun2kSFe65m5Iws2CSnLCq4SjJnyQQQco7LRNudljVkUVDWRbaIbciGSQWzeO9EY6urQAxMGzOnTTyVaTUHvoBbvxJRCC6touJsBDCYHkT3_EiU7lbLqux_MGtJRYQ3FhORIk/s400/1956+Photo.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66EGjOqeSajf4krXQd2dBdRuYUPCTJc3Z5-12Q5IYwVGrKe-dVFURxPJggwuFCMcAlotJlEfATZZlhspxxDb8XwZitiFF34Wr3OtS47SEdWEdZmS0AESwrmPOfSsKkksOsAHY2o1TztFv/s1600-h/Modelin'+Mama.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 266px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390646283860866402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj66EGjOqeSajf4krXQd2dBdRuYUPCTJc3Z5-12Q5IYwVGrKe-dVFURxPJggwuFCMcAlotJlEfATZZlhspxxDb8XwZitiFF34Wr3OtS47SEdWEdZmS0AESwrmPOfSsKkksOsAHY2o1TztFv/s400/Modelin'+Mama.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAxNmUJ5dxk429udQSvqZdrK4hxyfxHEDr8bkhbevyspP2fKbvpI-GHXZw2o1Y6dFh5KTbtAuRfz4O_gWm30bSJ9Lko6gebKZScAkeQmUrCGPBxBCdtrU4w8uvjSgkMSHaVlFPPbjOHFVu/s1600-h/Rex+at+Seventeen.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 326px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390646145568176738" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhAxNmUJ5dxk429udQSvqZdrK4hxyfxHEDr8bkhbevyspP2fKbvpI-GHXZw2o1Y6dFh5KTbtAuRfz4O_gWm30bSJ9Lko6gebKZScAkeQmUrCGPBxBCdtrU4w8uvjSgkMSHaVlFPPbjOHFVu/s400/Rex+at+Seventeen.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpY9jWdSg3faYxlYGIZgKme8y2Ej5TAs1dxo7KLqm1kQeN95tYIBlY6hm9rrN2cOG_rNQx5epFusqBsbJ9tl6qGC8knBZVgCj0unpXkNDt5PxvauVlYUqXcIjYVJHsDj3R5PX2vA0KkxjP/s1600-h/1974+Photo.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 378px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390644210166845714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgpY9jWdSg3faYxlYGIZgKme8y2Ej5TAs1dxo7KLqm1kQeN95tYIBlY6hm9rrN2cOG_rNQx5epFusqBsbJ9tl6qGC8knBZVgCj0unpXkNDt5PxvauVlYUqXcIjYVJHsDj3R5PX2vA0KkxjP/s400/1974+Photo.jpg" /></a>Talk about "planned parenthood," my siblings and I were all born three years apart. My older brother Samuel Cody Gupton was born October 30, 1953, I came along in January 1957, and our baby sister, Kelli Renee Gupton, joined the family on March 22, 1960. The three of us had the greatest parents, each of us continues today trying to make our parents proud, and hoping to pass along as many of their favorable traits as we can to our own children. The photo of my daddy eating watermelon was taken on a Father's Day in Baytown, Texas, at my Uncle Hank and Aunt Terry's house. And the other picture of my mom and dad was taken in the backyard of Daddy's older brother, Judge Thurman Gupton and his wife Gladys in West Columbia on the day of my cousin Angie's wedding to Jack Middleton.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0Oo5opA4YVqs29lBKqLz4Nl4De0JNyI_HzD6dtWFl60x1e_B6Id6JFsRWOIp88DBdQBtLsHZf_SBxLt_veK-Z-lFfzx4tqWaQakU-uqpwEmildxONS5G7L5P627cFgKjf2v6LGQGdW2f/s1600-h/Parents+in+1983.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 278px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390644042415226306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-0Oo5opA4YVqs29lBKqLz4Nl4De0JNyI_HzD6dtWFl60x1e_B6Id6JFsRWOIp88DBdQBtLsHZf_SBxLt_veK-Z-lFfzx4tqWaQakU-uqpwEmildxONS5G7L5P627cFgKjf2v6LGQGdW2f/s400/Parents+in+1983.jpg" /></a>
<div>Rex and Verna Gupton, who would have been married 60 years today, were photographed by their middle child, Tracy Gupton (me), in the photos above. I have loved taking pictures since I was a teenager growing up in West Columbia, and my mother and father were always willing models for their shutterbug son.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbDaWnM5HhpIANM4Q1rdmFF17nMT8gJqwM6_YwoBazqb2ooErrzWlTVpAS377xdAx53VzFJ7g7W_amHo95puFFweyG1tYxeqf1upbYqKV9K56XWdGNIMKyyYYsEHsv0zFonmSvnDHDt0t/s1600-h/Easter.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 349px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390642684470254610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiEbDaWnM5HhpIANM4Q1rdmFF17nMT8gJqwM6_YwoBazqb2ooErrzWlTVpAS377xdAx53VzFJ7g7W_amHo95puFFweyG1tYxeqf1upbYqKV9K56XWdGNIMKyyYYsEHsv0zFonmSvnDHDt0t/s400/Easter.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYQL-ZDi5H9gG7pR4UlGeM3aOnqogbnhios8YgUKHcRPZ-eoZxl3BiXJPWhVbQ4EDj_2cVh3EwJI24qNq7R4ygW2E0nkKz9ocfG309S7TOw2JSxA-JXoQ5GrNBtRUaxyRsuKql_OttCwt/s1600-h/Couch+Potatos.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 324px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390640891563462994" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAYQL-ZDi5H9gG7pR4UlGeM3aOnqogbnhios8YgUKHcRPZ-eoZxl3BiXJPWhVbQ4EDj_2cVh3EwJI24qNq7R4ygW2E0nkKz9ocfG309S7TOw2JSxA-JXoQ5GrNBtRUaxyRsuKql_OttCwt/s400/Couch+Potatos.jpg" /></a> An Easter Sunday family photo was taken of the Gupton clan around 1991 in front of my parents' house in West Columbia. My wife and I and our sons now reside in the same home that I grew up in as a child on Gupton Lane. Standing in back, from left to right, are my father Rex, sister-in-law Andrea, my mother Verna, and my wife Peggy. Representing the younger generation of Guptons are, in front, from left to right, Blake Gupton, Dustin Mosteit, Rex Layne Gupton, Haylie Mosteit, Bret Gupton and Brian Gupton. And our family dog, Pearl Mae "Pupper" Bodine, couldn't be left out of the family portrait.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2nH439xF3XOlUHOtqoMz0Ag3dqB5dQUTf9t8DllBwDHGGfnb4jYhKs5Z6FoGyfL1TB8wkn9QMrwllq2oMCeKT4zg5EwAyUter7XKaGpEiKGY1pOejv54oyTt2uC8O2qXkLtoaxjqvvoT/s1600-h/Tracy's+Birthday.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 160px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5390640717897859010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH2nH439xF3XOlUHOtqoMz0Ag3dqB5dQUTf9t8DllBwDHGGfnb4jYhKs5Z6FoGyfL1TB8wkn9QMrwllq2oMCeKT4zg5EwAyUter7XKaGpEiKGY1pOejv54oyTt2uC8O2qXkLtoaxjqvvoT/s400/Tracy's+Birthday.jpg" /></a>
<div>The two photos above were taken on my birthday when my family gathered at my parents' house in West Columbia to celebrate either my 34th or 35th birthday. There is no date on the back of the picture but my youngest son Blake appears to be about three years old, so if this was taken in 1991 then I would be turning 34. That's me, the birthday boy, on the right with my mother and father and, like Fred McMurray, "My Three Sons." Brian is standing behind me, Bret is in his grandmother's lap, and Blake is sitting on his "Paw" Rex's knee. Seated together on their living room couch, some 41 to 42 years after their 1949 wedding, are my parents, Rex and Verna Gupton.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-24936956199220843912009-09-29T22:22:00.012-05:002009-09-30T03:42:34.389-05:00Live Out The String Is Best We Can DoOn September 10th Gertrude Noone died at the ripe old age of 110. On the following day Gertrude Baines, touted as America's oldest living person, passed away at 115 years old. On September 4th former Austrian politician Franz Olah died at 99. Famous Greek athlete Christos Vartzakis died at 98 on September 7th, and American herpetologist Henry Sheldon Fitch was 99 when he died on September 8th.
On July 24th, in the midst of a scorching hot summer day, I stood at the graveside of Connor Wyatt Thoe and listened to Reverend Greg Smith deliver the last rites for a one-month old baby while sweat trickled down my back and legs. The tears that dripped from my eyes blended with the sweat on my face. Connor was born June 16th, far too premature to have much of a chance at survival, but his struggle for life for the little more than a month he lived was inspiring. He was the first child of Corey and Lynsie Thoe, two people I have known since they were children themselves and who I think very highly of. My opinions of them only improved immensely after seeing how the young married couple dealt with their son's situation and eventual death.
Standing next to my own son Brian Gupton and his fiance Tiffanie Hatley at the gravesite this past July, I happened to look down at a small headstone for a "Baby Boy Bryan" whose dates of birth and death resulted in him having survived only one day. This unnamed child was born on January 23, 1918, to L.Z. and Clara Bryan and died the following day. L.Z. Bryan, the longtime head football coach at Brazoswood High School who coached the Buccaneers to their only state championship, was more than likely this unfortunate little baby's brother. L.Z. Bryan, the very successful football coach, passed away this summer as an octogenarian.
My father, who was born in 1921 in his parents' West Columbia home, told me when I was growing up that he had a brother that died after living only a few days. This Gupton baby boy was born sometime between my father's 1921 birth and my Aunt Ruby's 1914 birth. Just like the child of L.Z. and Clara Bryan that died in 1918, the son of S.M. and Eula Gupton that died several days after his birth was never given a name. My parents told me when I was a kid that there were not many doctors and even fewer hospitals in the West Columbia area when they were born, so infant deaths were not uncommon in that era. But losing a baby in today's world, what with the advancements in medical technology and the abundance of hospitals in the Houston region, is almost unheard of. I guess Connor would not have survived as long as he did without having the best treatment modern medicine can offer. But that is little comfort to his parents and many other family members who grieved so hard over his death along with me and my son and future daughter-in-law this past summer.
My wife and I have said to each other many, many times over the years that we can handle almost anything life throws at us, but the one thing each of us agrees we could not survive would be the death of one of our children. We were blessed with three healthy baby boys and adopted another one. We consider ourselves extremely lucky, especially after having so many close friends be forced to come to grips with the reality of what Peggy and I deem the worst possible thing that could happen to us. My brother Cody and I first had to cope with the death of a playmate when each of us was very young. Our family still lived in Markham, south of Bay City, Texas, when Jimmy Wendt died when he was a young child. I don't remember much about him now, because that was so long ago, but I do recall that Jimmy always had trouble breathing and was a wan, sickly little boy. He died about the same time my father's father passed away from emphysema in the early 1960s. I was only four years old when I lost my grandfather. My mother told me after I was grown that I used to write letters to Jimmy Wendt and Bussie (the name my brother and I called our grandfather, whose nickname was Buff but Cody mispronounced it and I simply copied my big brother) when I was first learning to write. She said I would place the little letters on the dinner table at night for the angels to pick up and carry to Heaven, sort of the ultimate air mail. My mother would gather the letters and hide them somewhere, telling me that the angels took my letters to Jimmy and Bussie.
The next time a baby's death came into my sentience in my childhood days was when President Kennedy and his wife Jacqueline lost their baby son Patrick shortly after he was born. News of the infant's death was aired on our family's black-and-white TV in August, 1963, and I can just imagine how I bombarded my mother and father with questions about why did the President's baby boy have to die. I still ask that question today, as it pertains to babies, children and teenagers. An acceptable answer has yet to surface.
I knew since my childhood that Elvis Presley, who shared the same birthday as me (I was born on January 8, 1957, the same day Elvis was celebrating his 22nd birthday), had a twin brother that died at birth. But it was only recently, when news of Michael Jackson's death this past summer was all over the airwaves, did I learn that Michael's older brother Marlon Jackson was also born a twin. Marlon, who is the same age I am, survived but his twin brother did not.
I used to work with a man named Gary Smith who told me about his baby son dying a few days after he was born. Gary, who raised two daughters with his wife Sandy, said they brought their baby son home from the hospital and he took home movies of the two of them playing with their newborn son. According to Gary, after the child died the Smiths put the film of their baby boy away and never watched it again. My former coworker told me that nearly 30 years had passed since his son's death and he and Sandy still could not look at the movies they had taken of him.
When I was a kid growing up in West Columbia there were two tragic events that occurred in town involving the deaths of small children. I went to Sunday School at the Methodist church in West Columbia and our preacher during my childhood years was Reverend Neff. He and his wife had twin sons that were a couple years older than me, and two older sons who were in high school when I was in elementary school. They also had another son who was several years younger than me. I can still remember the shock waves that traveled across town with the news that the youngest Neff boy, who hadn't even started school yet, was found hanging by a rope from a tree limb in the backyard of the Methodist parsonage next door to the church. The horrible sadness that accompanied the news of the Neff boy's accidental hanging was equaled in the same time frame (actual years and dates for these occurrences escape me) of my younger years when the Kirksey's youngest son was run over on the highway by an 18-wheeler one tragic morning. Steve and Mark Kirksey were both quite a bit older than me, but their baby brother J.J. was, like the Neff boy that died, several years younger than me. The story, as I recall it from my childhood, was that the Kirksey boys had a dog that followed Mark and Steve out to the highway outside of West Columbia when the older Kirksey boys went to catch the school bus to town. Their little brother J.J. went into the road to retrieve his family's dog after the older boys had left on the bus. The driver of the 18-wheeler came flying around a curve and was unable to avoid hitting the little Kirksey boy and killed him.
Thinking that life was going to be a bed of rose petals and that I could somehow be insulated from all of the tragedy and horror (as Marlon Brando dubbed it in "Apocalypse Now") that was lying ahead waiting for me was very naive, I must admit, but I did go through most of the early years of my life feeling like I was somehow immune to it all. Little boys were dying around me left and right, but I never thought any harm would come to me. Having my brother's friend Phil Baker killed in a horrible pasture mowing accident when he was about 15 and losing my cousin Danny Louis Broadway at the age of 26 from post-Vietnam mental trauma shook me out of that unreal state of mind. Welcome to reality, young man! Life is not easy; it never was and never will be. Like the old T-shirts used to say: "Life is a bitch, then you die!"
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoPrO2V3umMrhJs3Y_5ZBYmNukGkNX5DQzb3qtuo7aFchyphenhyphensuMZgiVUeFIEeA2ESWzVlOY7rb5XTWBwHCcIqIjrlyK39YO3aUe9qQ9NW2XGw4FZKj3Hglp3PROlHd84u6nKEoz80Pxa6n2/s1600-h/God's+Goalie.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 269px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387151157193093714" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixoPrO2V3umMrhJs3Y_5ZBYmNukGkNX5DQzb3qtuo7aFchyphenhyphensuMZgiVUeFIEeA2ESWzVlOY7rb5XTWBwHCcIqIjrlyK39YO3aUe9qQ9NW2XGw4FZKj3Hglp3PROlHd84u6nKEoz80Pxa6n2/s400/God's+Goalie.jpg" /></a> The deaths of West Columbia children John Garrett Conaway at the age of six in 1987 to cancer, Rob Tosch at a young age while playing with the Miska boys, Lorie Tolbert's young son from lifelong health issues who died when he was about three, and John Andrew Duque (left) at the age of 16 in a 1996 car wreck really hit home with me, emotionally, psychologically, and spiritually. The culmination of all of these young people's deaths was just too much for me to take. I shook my clinched fists at the sky and asked God how could He allow these horrible things to happen? Why didn't He intervene? There was no reply from the sky. But I think I have received an answer. In a roundabout way. The other day I was conversing in my driveway with my son Bret's girlfriend Kristen Raasch about my plans to write this story. I told her how the combined effect of trying to absorb the tragic demise of so many young people in our community over the years had eroded my spiritual faith in the Lord above. My statement to Kristen that Connor Thoe's recent death after a one month struggle to survive had been the topper, leaving me somewhat empty in my spiritual tank. Her reply was that she was deeply spiritual and always had been. She lost an aunt to cancer at an early age. Her mother's brother Greg Kresta was left with small children to raise following the death of his wife and Kristen witnessed this struggle within her own family structure firsthand. Instead of reducing her faith in her Lord, the death of her aunt only made her faith that much stronger. I found this driveway conversation with a 23-year-old uplifting and put me in "rethink mode" about how I view this dilemma of having lost so many children to premature deaths in my own little world, from my childhood right up to the present. What really strengthens my faith in God in the aftermath of all of these deaths of beautiful young people has nothing to do with me at all, really. It is what I have seen with my own two eyes when it comes to how the parents and siblings of those children whose lives were snuffed out like so many candles blowing in the wind rebound and pull themselves up by their bootstraps in order to carry on with what is left of their lives. That is what I have found the most inspiring. Johnny and Suzanne Duque inspire me. Rich and Cookie Tillman inspire me. Debbie and Jimmy Harris inspire me. Gene and Linda Hightower definitely inspire me. And the list goes on, and on. I thank all of these fellow West Columbians for the living, walking, breathing models each of them has provided people such as myself who are in search of good Christian role models.
<div> </div><div> </div><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLF3LIGwVkhFARuOLJ2LBSOV-XFhP7lKIBZEpuApU0KpMZfmZzlGo2AJAj3K41YX5Frs7uQ0VNV1j-L0Mcun8NOc-gKI6eHfcIG7JEslu_M7fr2w95hyyhAAcp6_6yxhUrImh_c5WYUAA/s1600-h/Jeannie+Tillman.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 394px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387146820313167842" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhKLF3LIGwVkhFARuOLJ2LBSOV-XFhP7lKIBZEpuApU0KpMZfmZzlGo2AJAj3K41YX5Frs7uQ0VNV1j-L0Mcun8NOc-gKI6eHfcIG7JEslu_M7fr2w95hyyhAAcp6_6yxhUrImh_c5WYUAA/s400/Jeannie+Tillman.jpg" /></a> A few nights ago my wife Peggy and I were dining at one of the local restaurants in West Columbia when our good friends Rich and Cookie Tillman came in. Peggy and Cookie embraced and shared pleasantries while I talked with Rich a little bit. The truth is I find it very difficult to converse with the Tillmans as I did years ago, simply because I am well aware of what an intense and drawnout tragic ordeal they had to live with for so long while their daughter Jeannie was battling brain cancer. We sat with the Tillmans at Kyle Field in College Station a few years ago, watching our sons participate in Aggie Corps of Cadets' marching routines. My son Bret was a junior at Texas A&M when Jimmy Tillman was a freshman. Jeannie was sitting with her parents that day in College Station, wearing a large hat to conceal her hair loss from chemo treatments she had been subjected to because of her cancer. I wore an Aggie cap to conceal the baldness that is a result of genetics and Father Time. Jeannie was an honor graduate from Columbia High School, Class of 2004, having finished fifth in her class. She attempted to attend college while struggling to beat the brain cancer that was an unwanted visitor into her busy life. She is pictured above and her graduation photo is below. It was so very difficult to watch Jeannie battle her disease. Why do these things have to happen to the very best of our society, to the most gifted and intelligent young people? Questions I ask now had to have been posed millions of times in the past by the parents of such children, who no doubt asked time and time and time again . . . why me? Those questions can not be answered.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzaA5Kz97VljBW9s9f00sTD03ND5UH94SI0UmyAVvr3xlCZS3NuI7NpPuH2rm9jJwiYinHIB0l94k0pxphRHRanJAvMiKQ-IuK_q9oEeohyky5jrzzN3DBf93ZMsu3mpl6MMy8J5VFSXLc/s1600-h/2004+Grad.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 294px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387146558361205186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjzaA5Kz97VljBW9s9f00sTD03ND5UH94SI0UmyAVvr3xlCZS3NuI7NpPuH2rm9jJwiYinHIB0l94k0pxphRHRanJAvMiKQ-IuK_q9oEeohyky5jrzzN3DBf93ZMsu3mpl6MMy8J5VFSXLc/s400/2004+Grad.jpg" /></a>
<div>Terminal cancer does not discriminate. It strikes humans of all ages and races. Next to car wrecks, which take loved ones from us with such quick and heartless abandon, a diagnosis of terminal cancer is the ultimate reality check. Far too many people I have known and cared deeply about in my five decades of living have received that death notice in the form of a doctor's bedside chat. Quoting Tim McGraw from one of his most popular hit songs: "I spent most of the next days, looking at the X-rays . . . talking about sweet time." It is that "sweet time" that whooshes by much too rapidly for, not only the cancer victim, but for those of us who love them and must come to the realization that we will have to go on with our lives without them.
I will never forget the day my wife and sons Bret and Blake were eating lunch at the Chili's restaurant in Angleton when our waitress, Erika Wilbanks, informed us that her sister Ashleigh and her boyfriend Slade Edling had gotten engaged. With the next breath Erika was slamming the door on that good news with a sour dose of truly tragic news. Less than a couple weeks after getting engaged, Slade found out that he had brain cancer. Ashleigh and my son Bret are the same age and went to school together from daycare through their senior year in high school. The same goes for Erika and my youngest son Blake. They are also the same age. Slade Edling, the son of Thomas and Rita Edling of West Columbia, was a year or two older than my oldest son Brian. He played Little League with Brian and was on the Columbia Roughnecks baseball team when our good friend Corey Thoe was playing. We all kicked the prayers into higher gear for Slade and kept him in our thoughts throughout his lengthy battle with the malignant brain tumor that would eventually kill him before he was 30. The last time I saw Slade was at a fundraiser at The Armadillo Ballroom near Brazoria his family and friends had put on to help raise money for Slade's ever-rising hospital bills. He was confined to a wheelchair at that time. But his fiance, Ashleigh Wilbanks, was there at his side throughout the battle. Slade and Ashleigh are pictured below. Charles Wilbanks, a close friend of mine since the two of us were in the first and second grade together, have worked together at a local refinery for the past 20 years. His children and mine have grown up together and we are all practically like family. So it was extra painful to hear Charles tell me at work this past week about what a rough time his daughter Ashleigh had getting through the day on September 19th. Charles said that was the day Slade and Ashleigh were supposed to get married. The engagement ring is still worn on Ashleigh's finger, but because of his fatal bout with brain cancer, Slade will be to Ashleigh for the rest of her life what John D. Eddleman has been to my sister Kelli. They can merely think about what might have been, cling to their faith and move on with their young lives.
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<div>My high school classmate and longtime good friend Vernon Ray Mack and his wife Jessie also lost a son to brain cancer. Justin Mack was only 12 years old and a sixth grader at Brazoria Intermediate School when brain cancer claimed his life. Justin is survived by his twin sister Janine and older sister Kirby. I attended the funeral for Justin Mack and have to rank it as one of the most difficult and heartbreaking I have ever sat through. My cousin Gary Broadway's daughter Courtney was a classmate of Justin's and Janine's. Courtney had wanted to read a poem she had written for Justin at his funeral but when the time came her emotions got the better of her and Courtney struggled to stem the flow of tears and finish the poem. I found myself wiping away my own tears that flowed unchecked while I watched the black preacher who was standing near my young cousin place his arm around her and give her someone to cling to as she finished reading her poem in honor of her deceased friend. And when my buddy Vernon took the microphone at the close of his son's funeral, I was deeply moved to hear him thank everyone who had meant so much to Justin in his son's time of need.</div>
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<div>Another pair of good friends, Debbie and Jimmy Harris, have also lost a son to brain cancer. Kent Harris fought the same gallant struggle to survive in the face of difficult odds when he, like Justin Mack and Slade Edling, died much too young. I coached Kent's younger brother Josh Harris in Little League baseball when he and my son Bret were eight and nine years old. And Debbie Harris is someone I have looked up to and thought very highly of since I was a kid and she (Debbie Gilbert back in those days) and my cousin Denise Gupton were best friends. My heart breaks to think of what the parents and siblings and other family members of Kent Harris, Justin Mack, Jeannie Tillman and Slade Edling went through while these young men endured the ravages of cancer. Knowing they are all able to continue with their respective lives encourages me to put my trivial personal issues behind me and carry on with my own life, for anyone who has had to deal with the loss of a child has already survived my worst fear. I just don't know if I could do the same if that similar tragedy occurred in the lives of my wife and I.</div>
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<div>One of the most touching events I have ever witnessed was when Janine Aubrey Mack graduated from Columbia High School a couple years ago. I was seated with my wife not too far away from where Vernon and Jessie Mack were sitting. Vernon, who was one of my best friends when we were in high school together, released a handful of balloons into the night sky at Griggs Field when his daughter's name was announced and he watched her receive her diploma. That night an empty chair was placed near the front of the assembly of graduates in honor of Janine's twin brother Justin. Without even realizing it at the time, I had tears streaming down my cheeks as I witnessed Vernon Mack acknowledging his lost little boy at the same time he and his wife celebrated the accomplishment of their daughter. It was extremely touching.
</div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSzuzWW5hGVfzeApmMZNhdH5LBis6I07GHRlKeqScc22EDCSqa3H1kKnRy2BZ0Ll97MaWJi7qEi1VPLAADn1dqJXswbTu9mgn0LH94s8Gw1__s7UkZ1GoWnCGsie67pTr-UtrVrKAO1E7/s1600-h/Slade+%26+Ashleigh.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387131946507243458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEguSzuzWW5hGVfzeApmMZNhdH5LBis6I07GHRlKeqScc22EDCSqa3H1kKnRy2BZ0Ll97MaWJi7qEi1VPLAADn1dqJXswbTu9mgn0LH94s8Gw1__s7UkZ1GoWnCGsie67pTr-UtrVrKAO1E7/s400/Slade+%26+Ashleigh.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL-TLREtl-iDJGH7LBtQ0zwiO_0_VwZKK9UmSgSUY4x4jjoXcbAaVPltP0Th1uAvAm0CcYsxqdKCqs0TBJKJyljnrwaPzIUzjMUKkMtJYbTozvJq3t8EqgH76ERzEJGhLbA_tVvq8cB5-/s1600-h/John+Duque.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 269px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387131541864132082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqL-TLREtl-iDJGH7LBtQ0zwiO_0_VwZKK9UmSgSUY4x4jjoXcbAaVPltP0Th1uAvAm0CcYsxqdKCqs0TBJKJyljnrwaPzIUzjMUKkMtJYbTozvJq3t8EqgH76ERzEJGhLbA_tVvq8cB5-/s400/John+Duque.jpg" /></a>
<div>The morning I learned of John Duque's death at the age of 16 in a head-on collision near Brazoria the previous day is one of those moments in time that seem forever frozen in my brain. People often say they will always remember where they were and what they were doing at the exact moment they learned of the assassination of President Kennedy and the death of popular entertainment icons like Elvis Presley and John Lennon. That applies to me as well, but I also have burned into my memory bank what I was doing and the entire setting around me when I lost important people in my own little world. John Duque, pictured at right in the last yearbook photo he would take, was one of those people. His mother and father, Suzanne and Johnny Duque, have been for a very long time, in my personal opinion, templates of what really good people should be like. There are others in my viewpoint who also fit this description, but when I think of the title of that book that was on the best seller's list a couple decades ago, "When Bad Things Happen To Good People," I think of the Duques. </div>
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<div>And Rich and Cookie Tillman. And Carroll Conaway and his ex-wife. Vernon and Jessie Mack. Thomas and Rita Edling. Jimmy and Debbie Harris. Bobby Tosch and his wife. Gary and Sandy Smith. Lorie Tolbert and her husband. All very good people. And all people I know who have lost children, kids who never got the chance to grow up and become adults. Lives interrupted long before they should have. Why? If any of us knew the answer to that question . . .</div>
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<div>Marc Cohn, one of my favorite singers and songwriters whose biggest hit was "Walking In Memphis," survived being shot in the head in a bizarre carjacking incident in Denver, Colorado, several years ago. Cohn and his band had just finished a concert in the Mile High City and were exiting the venue where they had played their set when a man ran up to their van and demanded that the driver stop. Instead the driver hit the gas in an effort to avoid the robbery attempt and the gunman fired his pistol into the van. The bullet grazed the skull of Marc Cohn, who was sitting in the backseat of the van. The Grammy winning singer was rushed to a Denver hospital where he was treated and released. This death escaping incident motivated Cohn to write a song entitled "Live Out The String," which was included on his most recent CD, "Join The Parade," which was released in 2007.</div>
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<div>Lyrics of "Live Out The String" come about as close to defining my personal beliefs pertaining to the deaths of children, not only babies, kids and teenagers, but the deaths of everyone of any age. It's all really a crap shoot, a mere roll of the dice. It's the cards each of us were dealt. Call it fate, call it destiny, refer to it however you like. But in the end, none of us can ever avoid getting the call to meet our maker when it is our time. </div>
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<div>"It's only natural, maybe superstitious to try and find, the meaning in beating the odds, 'cause sometimes you gotta (get down on your knees), and thank the whole wide universe of gods for letting you live out the string, a little longer boy. Raise your voice and make a joyful noise. Ain't no guarantee of anything. Live out the string. Now that a meteorite has fallen in the chair you just got out of to answer the phone, will you live every moment like it just might be your last, or will you still just bitch and moan?" So go some of the lyrics to Marc Cohn's song "Live Out The String."</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kN6Hht-kLHonszEBiCFicp3oqV8ZyVvHAuTxvMOTqbY3pN0j0uinRubB9fYJJw97zL1dWxufxpuPRQbGRs9hXEwZ3kC5VVaDuwtfIglLh0s3O4YOApE_8A_6UicN0yefq5Iyize0Wz4o/s1600-h/Flute+Player.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 382px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387119512247144258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-kN6Hht-kLHonszEBiCFicp3oqV8ZyVvHAuTxvMOTqbY3pN0j0uinRubB9fYJJw97zL1dWxufxpuPRQbGRs9hXEwZ3kC5VVaDuwtfIglLh0s3O4YOApE_8A_6UicN0yefq5Iyize0Wz4o/s400/Flute+Player.jpg" /></a>
<div>Half of those pictured below are no longer with us. My mother, Verna Giesler Gupton, and her older sister, Yvonne Giesler Broadway, were both victims of cancer. They each lived long, full lives, although none of us who loved them were ready to let them go when they passed away, but the death of John Duane Eddleman when he was hardly out of his teen years was a crushing blow to all who loved him. John D. is pictured standing alongside my older brother, Cody Gupton, and our Aunt Yvonne, and my mother Verna holds Brandy Gloor while seated beside Brandy's father and John D.'s brother-in-law, John "Stormy" Gloor. And Jeannie Tillman is pictured above playing the flute during her high school days in West Columbia. John D. and Jeannie were about the same age when both were taken from us much too soon.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8xtdBwCAVAxOqBazpVj1uuh7ypLley8CxYO9ikOmCVgM9yyMb0rJmorF2c0XkwLgvegc5hOWUD0a659ma9beTegQYIbBzkNAS9iDxH4qNaqNz41ApeOzxBGIZbpyig0BVv1w_i2VKkEU/s1600-h/John+D..jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387117360620996866" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhX8xtdBwCAVAxOqBazpVj1uuh7ypLley8CxYO9ikOmCVgM9yyMb0rJmorF2c0XkwLgvegc5hOWUD0a659ma9beTegQYIbBzkNAS9iDxH4qNaqNz41ApeOzxBGIZbpyig0BVv1w_i2VKkEU/s400/John+D..jpg" /></a>
<div>My wife Peggy and I both graduated from high school in West Columbia in 1975. I would bet good money that our graduating class lost more classmates in automobile accidents during our four years in high school than any other in school history. That is a record we would much rather concede to another graduating class if we could somehow reclaim all of those lost young lives. Today we can take walks down memory lane by thumbing through the pages of our high school yearbooks and pointing out all of those friends who did not have the luxury of living long enough to take the walk in cap and gown on graduation night with us. It definitely affected my psyche during my teenaged years when I--like all of my classmates at Columbia High School--got to the point where I found myself asking, "Who will be next?" And, of course, hoping that it would not be me. Car wrecks took the lives of several beautiful young girls I had an eye for in my high school days. The senselessness of it all, combined with the surreal atmosphere we grew up in, created by our being so young and thrust into a new awareness of the ugliness life presented during the era of the Vietnam War and only a few years removed from the assassinations of John and Robert Kennedy, Medgar Evers and Martin Luther King, Jr., seemed to constantly kick us while we were down. Memories of my high school days are now sharply focused on simply wanting to click my heels like Judy Garland and be somewhere, anywhere else but where I was. Sadness was a constant state of mind because of the deaths of so many classmates.</div>
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<div>But I did not take any of these tragic deaths of high school friends nearly as hard as I did the loss of my college roommate when I was attending Sam Houston State University in Huntsville. My first semester at Sam Houston I shared a two bedroom apartment with my cousin Billy Jenn, Isidro Valdez and John D. Eddleman. Isidro and I shared a bedroom while Billy and John D. shared the other. John D., who was engaged to my sister Kelli at the time, was a member of the Sam Houston Rodeo Team. On the night of December 1, 1978, he competed in the bull riding at a rodeo in Lake Charles, Louisiana. Later that night, after the rodeo, John D. was killed when the pickup truck he was a passenger in rolled over several times. My college roommate was ejected from the truck and killed when the pickup rolled over his body.</div>
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<div>John D., as everybody called him, was like family to me. He was the younger brother of Sherry Gloor. She and her husband, John "Stormy" Gloor, remain very close to my immediate family today, as do their two daughters, Brandy and Mandy. So the death of John D. Eddleman near the end of our fall 1978 semester at Sam Houston State was truly life altering. For my sister Kelli more than for me, but his passing at 19 or 20 years of age remains among the saddest ordeals I have ever had to endure.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3exfEWFnT-ZEA31Rx1HIuxdg5r_4IW4PXvETTDmC65_PnmrqY_xzKh1E_FSTc82EK9RAa6epjdWYKebhykijUhdV5Y7kohaxKrTL-ycV3x1Twx1K7ECmF_fepCsTR8VICfSy3TJO4BaKi/s1600-h/Kelli's+Graduation.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 272px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387111399850362050" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj3exfEWFnT-ZEA31Rx1HIuxdg5r_4IW4PXvETTDmC65_PnmrqY_xzKh1E_FSTc82EK9RAa6epjdWYKebhykijUhdV5Y7kohaxKrTL-ycV3x1Twx1K7ECmF_fepCsTR8VICfSy3TJO4BaKi/s400/Kelli's+Graduation.jpg" /></a>
<div>My younger sister Kelli is pictured above on her graduation night in 1978 with our grandmother, Pauline Giesler, and John Duane Eddleman, Kelli's boyfriend at the time. A tragic automobile accident would claim John D.'s life on December 1, 1978. He was a sophomore at Sam Houston State University and my college roommate at the time of his death. Jamie Dungy, pictured below looking at his mother Lauren prior to his and younger brother Eric's baptism, was a freshman in college when he took his own life two weeks prior to his nineteenth birthday.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzVTf_FuKJCdsZB0cJMMxbIk3McVRO06aV08GLzsic-YWB0i14WdafyuxJ33uOjQ1VsUQGh8ikbzD92Z8lBaLUCftLy2nxmShlWxxUQljee-Xe7IkLrMOsQIFOYWEGsJZ3aJ6x_uJ5dPc/s1600-h/Dungy+Baptism.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 387px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387109405361215618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRzVTf_FuKJCdsZB0cJMMxbIk3McVRO06aV08GLzsic-YWB0i14WdafyuxJ33uOjQ1VsUQGh8ikbzD92Z8lBaLUCftLy2nxmShlWxxUQljee-Xe7IkLrMOsQIFOYWEGsJZ3aJ6x_uJ5dPc/s400/Dungy+Baptism.jpg" /></a>
<div>In his 2007 autobiography "Quiet Strength," Tony Dungy addressed the December 22, 2004, suicide of his eldest son James. Unfortunately, Tony and Lauren Dungy received that late night phone call that my wife Peggy and I have always dreaded and feared to receive. A call telling us that one of our children has died. "For reasons that will never be fully known, Jamie had taken his own life," Tony Dungy writes in his book. "Lauren and I weren't sure how we'd get through this, but we recognized that we were going to have to cling to God's strength and love if we were going to have a chance."</div>
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<div>Our good friends Gene and Linda Hightower of West Columbia have been in this situation and walked the same path of extreme grief that Tony and Lauren Dungy walked during the Christmas holidays five years ago. The Hightowers' son also took his own life. I shared their grief and pray that my wife and I never have to experience the throes of such extreme sorrow that the Dungys and Hightowers went through. It takes a special man or woman to find the inner strength within them in order to survive having to bury your own child. Those with a strong faith predicated on their sincere beliefs that Heaven exists and one day all of them, mother, father, brothers and sisters, will all be reunited for the Hereafter with their lost child and sibling, seem to have a better chance of dealing with the tragedy.</div>
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<div>Tony Dungy was told by a chaplain of an NFL team he had once been associated with following his son Jamie's suicide, "Life will never be the same again, but you won't always feel like you do right now." James Dungy ended his own life just two weeks shy of his nineteenth birthday, during his freshman year in college. His father writes in "Quiet Strength" that those words were uttered to him by Tom Lamphere, the chaplain for the Minnesota Vikings at that time, as the two men stood at James Dungy's open casket. "That is when it really started to sink in and become real," Dungy wrote. "I'm never going to see him again."</div>
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<div>Today I often see Johnny and Suzanne Duque, Rich and Cookie Tillman, Corey and Lynsie Thoe, Vernon and Jessie Mack, and others who are friends of mine. Tony Dungy retired as head coach of the Indianapolis Colts at the end of last season. He is now highly visible on television as one of NBC's studio talking heads on Sunday Night Football. All of these people who have moved on with their lives are strong Christian human beings. Each of them has that common thread that binds them together. They have all lost a child at an early age. My heart breaks for each of them. Those who live in and around my hometown of West Columbia, I see often and never fail to wave and say hello. But for the most part, conversations about their lost children are nonexistent. I can imagine what it must be like to have experienced what they did. So I feel like none of them need constant reminders, even if my intent is only to express that I love them and want them to know that I think about them often. It is just too difficult to talk about. That is a given.</div>
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<div>Tony Dungy said in his book that he spoke to the large crowd that had assembled in Tampa, Florida, for his son Jamie's funeral five years ago. Among the things he said at the funeral was this, which I think every parent should take to heart: "Parents, hug your kids--every chance you get. Tell them that you love them every chance you get. You don't know when it's going to be the last time."</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFQEuqUWDJqZ7A_tyyojggE5-VO0dXYyviITs97IibHMrWD-U70dvyrBYMwbOoYTQ5EyKrb-E59T0IPhVALIkxDS2bEzH2KIOIeTLTeji4Bx82md-KUDLXPGDxIk-43ug9qDdciPzC6Zu/s1600-h/James+Dungy.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5387097117200419202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMFQEuqUWDJqZ7A_tyyojggE5-VO0dXYyviITs97IibHMrWD-U70dvyrBYMwbOoYTQ5EyKrb-E59T0IPhVALIkxDS2bEzH2KIOIeTLTeji4Bx82md-KUDLXPGDxIk-43ug9qDdciPzC6Zu/s400/James+Dungy.jpg" /></a>
<div>Former Indianapolis Colts head coach Tony Dungy, left, is pictured with his two sons, Eric, center, and James, in a photo taken in 2004 on Thanksgiving Day. The Dungy family can relate to others who have lost a child at an early age. James Dungy committed suicide less than a month after this photo was taken.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-21127700399802454552009-09-28T15:22:00.012-05:002009-09-28T16:22:29.732-05:00Who Is That Distinguished Gentleman . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYg4GxDx8duMlTnoITa8vVyfYqNxeuCRZKIwFKxDEj8ksInz7xxZFodcHgfGsR5ALOhzwHfCvRNIDXYRBlkXAqXMr7oHFVS1LRAJzNNsyhZTMDsWIusmUJgwWmlBSYQjGxTOl3hztsm7L/s1600-h/Grab+That+Leg!.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 355px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386626079335433618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIYg4GxDx8duMlTnoITa8vVyfYqNxeuCRZKIwFKxDEj8ksInz7xxZFodcHgfGsR5ALOhzwHfCvRNIDXYRBlkXAqXMr7oHFVS1LRAJzNNsyhZTMDsWIusmUJgwWmlBSYQjGxTOl3hztsm7L/s400/Grab+That+Leg!.jpg" /></a> in the sharp tuxedo? Why, it's me, of course. I have gone twice in the last couple weeks to get fitted for the tuxedos I will be wearing at two of my sons' weddings in the coming months. Hey buddy, can you spare a dime? How about a couple grand to help me pay for all of this? My son Brian Gupton will be taking Tiffanie Hatley of Katy, Texas, as his bride on October 17th in a wedding ceremony planned to take place in the gorgeous setting of the front lawn of the Varner-Hogg mansion in West Columbia. And on November 14th my son Kirk Gupton will marry his longtime girlfriend Tanya Spears at the Knights of Columbus Hall near Brazoria. I have been asked to be the best man in Kirk's wedding. This will mark the fourth time I have stood up for a good friend or relative as the best man. In November of 2008 I was the best man for Jamie Tims, Kirk's brother who my wife Peggy and I practically raised when he was a child. About 25 years had passed in between weddings where I was a best man for someone who meant a great deal to me. Two of my best friends from my childhood days asked me to stand beside them when they were married (not to each other, of course, but to their respective brides) many, many years ago. My cousin Steve Weems was the first to ask me to serve as his best man, when he married his first wife Janet Sanders. Steve was the best man in my wedding in 1980 to Peggy Hall (pictured seemingly in shock--she is so ticklish--when I grabbed her leg to remove the garter after our wedding) and Harold Tolbert stood up with me as one of my groomsmen. Following my wedding Harold would ask me to be his best man over a quarter-century ago when he took Rhonda Bonner as his bride. Prior to and during the many years since those weddings, I have been lucky to have had numerous friends and relatives ask me to participate in their weddings. I have always considered it a great honor to stand up for all of these loved ones, regardless of what capacity I was asked to serve. I was the candle lighter for my cousins Randy Broadway (when he married Sandra Woodall at Bethel Presbyterian Church in East Columbia) and Mary Weems (when she married Clay Hill at Columbia United Methodist Church in West Columbia) in the 1960s when I was still a child. Those two weddings from my childhood served as the springboard to better things to come, but did not result in my wearing a rented tuxedo. I just put on my church clothes for both of those weddings. Since then I have been a groomsman, usher and both photographer and videographer at many weddings. Here, for both your viewing pleasure and to embarrass the hell out of me and my many friends and relatives pictured with me, are a variety of old photographs of yours truly wearing tuxedos in several weddings. And . . . coming soon to a theater near you . . . make that my blogsite instead of a theater near you . . . will be more photos of the ancient Gupster wearing rented tuxes and suits for the weddings of two of my sons in October and November of 2009. I can't wait!
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8XNOsdKUnGzwH-Hs4aD0U0HOZSret9o8Xo-N92PSlAf1HTxbGoJdp-t2U3K1SfVSc1PjPIAmqBiAEga5C6rupCVsI_xPMXB3GyxRS6QDhZoLxbQhdQvk25yiW00HXTClUUKlt0iPMk53s/s1600-h/Git+dat+garter!.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 313px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386625944859462098" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8XNOsdKUnGzwH-Hs4aD0U0HOZSret9o8Xo-N92PSlAf1HTxbGoJdp-t2U3K1SfVSc1PjPIAmqBiAEga5C6rupCVsI_xPMXB3GyxRS6QDhZoLxbQhdQvk25yiW00HXTClUUKlt0iPMk53s/s400/Git+dat+garter!.jpg" /></a>
<div>A few pictures from my June 28, 1980, wedding to my bride Peggy Hall Gupton show me in all my splendor, trying very hard to look like Barry Gibb of The BeeGees (check out the beard and long hair), are displayed above and below. The photos above show me tossing the garter that I removed from Peggy's leg in one picture to a group of bachelors gathered behind me in the other. The garter was caught by Isidro Valdez Jr., pictured trying the hardest to get a grasp on the garter in flight. In the photo below I am shown with all of the guys who stood up for me at my wedding over 29 years ago. Aren't we a handsome group? Pictured from left to right are: my brother Cody Gupton, Bill Lott, Harold Tolbert, my best man and cousin Steve Weems, the groom, Dean Sitton, my cousin Hank Gupton, and Isidro Valdez Jr. The two photos below that are a good indication of how the ravages of time can really kick a man's ass! I am pictured in my twenties, escorting a bridesmaid down the aisle in the wedding of my cousin Lynn Broadway, and as the best man for Jamie Tims in his wedding last year. I don't know about you guys, but I much prefer the 80s look: "You should be dancing, dancing, yeah! Stayin' Alive, Stayin' Alive! It's just your jive talkin' . . . yeahhhh!!!!!!!"</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht57v8_37bij-PfxShrY3HmTDqPO9sVHSo2DcJnyPj7h4gLCOVtz7F-rIr1OtfPQKTDTqJlYkfgI9clFKxSAmeXjVnp4Nela-A7gsnzCMDxs0IuColTwGyAtEEYySdnAHg-Mdulh3TCUM5/s1600-h/Me+%26+The+Boys.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 321px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386622926251696210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEht57v8_37bij-PfxShrY3HmTDqPO9sVHSo2DcJnyPj7h4gLCOVtz7F-rIr1OtfPQKTDTqJlYkfgI9clFKxSAmeXjVnp4Nela-A7gsnzCMDxs0IuColTwGyAtEEYySdnAHg-Mdulh3TCUM5/s400/Me+%26+The+Boys.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4KnWMKurxKvEoJpNyLthkyGkL0RPlr8kRPtjNuOVDDZa-DLMxbE6ya4ZHXFpOyrV1_InuFwhX6tpuxfFDjKQc1i0xeQwvgF33yLU_qu6uPQpL0XVek3lQSrVUrCrwBxnT3IRYPs6bhT4J/s1600-h/Me+With+Bmaid.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 298px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386622705418356850" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4KnWMKurxKvEoJpNyLthkyGkL0RPlr8kRPtjNuOVDDZa-DLMxbE6ya4ZHXFpOyrV1_InuFwhX6tpuxfFDjKQc1i0xeQwvgF33yLU_qu6uPQpL0XVek3lQSrVUrCrwBxnT3IRYPs6bhT4J/s400/Me+With+Bmaid.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsUVHDyHZWE4Z0GqfdszeoKnElosC50Q2v6e9KLwPYEXaO2vC1li03w8NOmsl-tPO2FOcqFfa1EWgLstsQH7i42hUf04eWpZz89RY2hwqR-52FKsjG1VjsVp_WXvOaSL_SRwSMLJOcAas/s1600-h/JT+and+TGup.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 262px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386622476487944210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrsUVHDyHZWE4Z0GqfdszeoKnElosC50Q2v6e9KLwPYEXaO2vC1li03w8NOmsl-tPO2FOcqFfa1EWgLstsQH7i42hUf04eWpZz89RY2hwqR-52FKsjG1VjsVp_WXvOaSL_SRwSMLJOcAas/s400/JT+and+TGup.jpg" /></a>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHr1LrwN8rnxG5PliWileNu_l6L3gKcuSo_CGceUvT7LuwRoaVT5k4KQ13F_IU6xq68MixwXPB1mloFTvHCSxLM9n2DX4wox0NXLPoBrvkD6-T1nUqxRR8M8ZsrtWqhAqy5hQPchEwUVe/s1600-h/Tims-Briones.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386621345305537426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiZHr1LrwN8rnxG5PliWileNu_l6L3gKcuSo_CGceUvT7LuwRoaVT5k4KQ13F_IU6xq68MixwXPB1mloFTvHCSxLM9n2DX4wox0NXLPoBrvkD6-T1nUqxRR8M8ZsrtWqhAqy5hQPchEwUVe/s400/Tims-Briones.jpg" /></a>
<div>November of last year was the most recent setting for T. Gup to slip his svelte but aging body into a tuxedo. I was the best man at a wedding held in West Columbia, standing up for Jamie Tims when my longtime buddy took the hand of Vicky Briones in marriage. I am pictured with the groom in the lower photo, as well as in the shot above that includes both the bride and groom. Kalen Williams, Jamie's nephew, is standing to the left of me and DeMarcus Randall is the ring bearer standing in front of Jamie and me in the photo below. The other child in the photos is Ricky but I can't recall his last name. He is the son of one of the bride's best friends. DeMarcus is the son of Tanya Spears and Kalen is the son of Tyrone George, Jamie's older brother.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNN1BHsjuwmfZTU4UAUUggFGFjOoslIJQnJZcI3fNxWobYg_a5w8lcpXypP99nOWhuLTw5gLACMDW51gkLYFqZb5xwCCSzi7ThCtn9QLTO3uapLA79VqJd97SkSJBX83dprsI6X21DyVY/s1600-h/Wedding+Party.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 262px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386619398894952578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsNN1BHsjuwmfZTU4UAUUggFGFjOoslIJQnJZcI3fNxWobYg_a5w8lcpXypP99nOWhuLTw5gLACMDW51gkLYFqZb5xwCCSzi7ThCtn9QLTO3uapLA79VqJd97SkSJBX83dprsI6X21DyVY/s400/Wedding+Party.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALS3lsv_rXmzx9jZhksaJi3f4PxA0aF6c03G7v_vHsWrb6oBQzU-YGkMRKHO_q5R458Qr9IVdDsk11bfo0ipVTiCRn4Esv8Ez-GMTJJa6gcFl4zWybWGp-E6pI5m8HN477UPOspw-1NSn/s1600-h/Tracy+and+R.D..jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 398px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386619158877356946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgALS3lsv_rXmzx9jZhksaJi3f4PxA0aF6c03G7v_vHsWrb6oBQzU-YGkMRKHO_q5R458Qr9IVdDsk11bfo0ipVTiCRn4Esv8Ez-GMTJJa6gcFl4zWybWGp-E6pI5m8HN477UPOspw-1NSn/s400/Tracy+and+R.D..jpg" /></a>
<div>My memory is a bit cloudy but I think the photo above captures me wearing a tuxedo for the very first time. I was an usher in the wedding of my cousin Angie Gupton to her first husband, who Angie would probably prefer remain nameless, when I was in my late teens. I am photographed with Angie's uncle R.D. Jones.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_-UMupZQVLviQe1HdBE1piRG_jd-wajM9_ny_mIR9QKiw5LJer2ywgdea3gEzXfQUzeTW7tGqJ2dwbAEDwXN0OR1BThp3XYOJgYQ2GVTgPXGU0kKe5JOerCFAbUqawi6P_zYIP6ufD4H/s1600-h/Lynn's+Wedding.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 261px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5386617665352138946" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj8_-UMupZQVLviQe1HdBE1piRG_jd-wajM9_ny_mIR9QKiw5LJer2ywgdea3gEzXfQUzeTW7tGqJ2dwbAEDwXN0OR1BThp3XYOJgYQ2GVTgPXGU0kKe5JOerCFAbUqawi6P_zYIP6ufD4H/s400/Lynn's+Wedding.jpg" /></a>
<div>I was in my twenties when I served as a groomsman in the wedding of my cousin Lynn Broadway and his bride Toni Dorsey. That's me on the left in the group photo above, pictured with, from left to right: my brother Cody Gupton, my cousin Gary Broadway, Randy Broadway Jr. standing in front of the groom Lynn Broadway, Lynn's best man Van Bertram, Tyler Broadway and my cousin Jack Randall Broadway. Lynn and Toni are the parents of current New York Mets pitcher Lance Broadway.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-35488382283511250552009-09-25T14:31:00.008-05:002009-09-25T15:24:00.403-05:00Double Deuce Birthday For Dee Money<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOm0O75Ofk9LJEbNOoBMLqkkwNRfRWlWDG394FBQx-8nYyrr3Q3QDotoltmVg4xA9Y3sxf6deVWArg-wKwmfnvUCjZNLtQLpovZwEi8f_6s75I4LWMRN0Y6PYSo3ruvB8ZyGeLnZWyE_ty/s1600-h/Beach+Dee.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385503391314380578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgOm0O75Ofk9LJEbNOoBMLqkkwNRfRWlWDG394FBQx-8nYyrr3Q3QDotoltmVg4xA9Y3sxf6deVWArg-wKwmfnvUCjZNLtQLpovZwEi8f_6s75I4LWMRN0Y6PYSo3ruvB8ZyGeLnZWyE_ty/s400/Beach+Dee.jpg" /></a>
<div>Donald Ray Scott Jr. was born on this day, September 25th, twenty-two years ago today. "Dee" is now a grown man with children of his own, but images of him as a small child and teenager will forever be etched on the canvas of my memory. He and my youngest son Blake started school together in kindergarten and remained close friends throughout their school days, culminating in May of 2006 when they graduated from Columbia High School together. "Dee Money," as he likes to be called these days, was always a pleasant child and teen, easy to deal with as both his coach in sports and a "somewhat father figure" to him when he was hanging out at the Gupton household for many years when he was a kid. In fact, Dee was with my family almost as much as he was spending time with his own back in the days when he and my own boys were all involved in baseball, basketball, soccer, football and track. Donald Scott Jr. was a joy to watch compete in all of these different sports. He was always among the best, if not "THE" best at what he dedicated himself to doing. "Dee Money" was among the fastest sprinters to ever wear the maroon-and-white in both junior high school and high school, was an outstanding running back on the varsity Roughnecks football team, and was very good in the sports he abandoned when he made the decision as a high school athlete to focus on the two sports he felt he excelled in the most, football and track. I often wonder just how good Dee could have been in those abandoned sports--baseball, basketball and soccer--if he had continued to participate in them. He had the talent and skills to rise to the top in any sport he wanted to play, with ample training and coaching. I had the luxury of assisting William Minks in coaching Dee and his younger twin brothers, Jason and Justin Scott, as well as their older cousin, Andrew Jones, for several years in Little League baseball. That Scott foursome [Dee, Andrew, Jason and Justin] was on Coach Minks' baseball teams for many consecutive seasons when my son Blake was playing both minor league and major league baseball in the local Little League organization, and when they all were young teenagers on the Mudcats Babe Ruth League team. But that is all water under the bridge now, as the old saying goes, and wasting time ruminating over what might have been is just that . . . wasted time. So today, on Donald Ray Scott Jr.'s 22nd birthday, ol' Gup just wants to merely say to him, "Have a great day today, young man. I miss you lots; your absence from our lives over the past half-dozen years or so has left us wondering how you are getting along out there in that cruel old world we live in. Come see us sometime and if you happen to see my blog on the internet by some odd chance, know that Peggy and I still love you like you were one of our own boys." Happy Birthday, Kid!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8IlQENYIq75t8D1cnVQVFOQn56hmQ08Os3pRLQ2R35IstJh1QodOWgokJvqq5BCQssj17qwiCoHloQ63FEkmF9qE9jUlyudecqlUDstFACNKlzFAhCWzIHG1_vljsOi7QDOLicptdjl8/s1600-h/Basketball+Dee.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385495161173105826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhe8IlQENYIq75t8D1cnVQVFOQn56hmQ08Os3pRLQ2R35IstJh1QodOWgokJvqq5BCQssj17qwiCoHloQ63FEkmF9qE9jUlyudecqlUDstFACNKlzFAhCWzIHG1_vljsOi7QDOLicptdjl8/s400/Basketball+Dee.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMd9h85JGNQaL2uBj6a0HvYc1PZAvHfpX5lZJTZkxBJ7UQkYM0ZaVhnJFZtsIIk-CqIx4PvqvtQU5UgWYVGrpbEfyf2KRPFG-Rt0FpQ0VTEEq1uIdCysvD-9OF5RFb9V_6N8_48JGC7LK/s1600-h/Bat+On+Shoulder.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 227px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385494757177722258" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPMd9h85JGNQaL2uBj6a0HvYc1PZAvHfpX5lZJTZkxBJ7UQkYM0ZaVhnJFZtsIIk-CqIx4PvqvtQU5UgWYVGrpbEfyf2KRPFG-Rt0FpQ0VTEEq1uIdCysvD-9OF5RFb9V_6N8_48JGC7LK/s320/Bat+On+Shoulder.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8IiwYTCHPkuOkHhnFv4sLpXM6aiK3AiT8QVXO_JiqsuwLVYRb_yGuy-kv773jRSdPPV780_mF_AY2jcM-PLLdHRl_0d5h0Qn3FbBkhC95br-1YtVnSGMnXN8XBgQgwbdaPM-clOIfxz5/s1600-h/All+Star+Dee.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 234px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385494496059143938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjL8IiwYTCHPkuOkHhnFv4sLpXM6aiK3AiT8QVXO_JiqsuwLVYRb_yGuy-kv773jRSdPPV780_mF_AY2jcM-PLLdHRl_0d5h0Qn3FbBkhC95br-1YtVnSGMnXN8XBgQgwbdaPM-clOIfxz5/s320/All+Star+Dee.jpg" /></a>
<div>Dee Scott was just like a member of the family for several years in the late 1990s and early 2000s. He and my son Blake were like each other's shadows during the period when they seemed to always be on the same Little League, youth basketball and soccer teams. The photos of Dee, who celebrates his 22nd birthday today, were taken by me, the Gupster, at the beach and around the house when Dee was hanging out with Blake, Bret and Brian. "Dee Money" was eleven and twelve years old when these candid and posed shots were snapped.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0VP3tG33HjsBguOO_L2C54xiZiKP7yfwhMAn2Symie04FBUdl7VAXwezN1ftJQfgK5J3a8Nx1Ik183_euWui8CTGDLnL7XqFAfCqHLEEUB2MlDSJODK7McNmuSLNyxpzK_kfZeH7HQYq/s1600-h/Melon+Eater.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385492851385672034" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiw0VP3tG33HjsBguOO_L2C54xiZiKP7yfwhMAn2Symie04FBUdl7VAXwezN1ftJQfgK5J3a8Nx1Ik183_euWui8CTGDLnL7XqFAfCqHLEEUB2MlDSJODK7McNmuSLNyxpzK_kfZeH7HQYq/s400/Melon+Eater.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDqbOyGTo9ebruHBFxgBHVp0ziKKz_h9ITKcRGtz9F6mOL3F-aDuRpxCMCAaVqsq3RvZEFnImKrKl-ghjPw83dSogY52EBO_JnQsfsjcqwlaiBFSrS2IwXxqGXd4uCnbJADgc7Orkoxuf/s1600-h/Hoops+Stars.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385492514435685650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgDDqbOyGTo9ebruHBFxgBHVp0ziKKz_h9ITKcRGtz9F6mOL3F-aDuRpxCMCAaVqsq3RvZEFnImKrKl-ghjPw83dSogY52EBO_JnQsfsjcqwlaiBFSrS2IwXxqGXd4uCnbJADgc7Orkoxuf/s400/Hoops+Stars.jpg" /></a>
<div>The same four outstanding athletes from Charlie Brown Intermediate School in West Columbia that are pictured below as baseball all stars joined ranks on the basketball court in April of 2000 to form a very good "Hoop Jam" quartet. Pictured above are, kneeling (from left) my son Blake Gupton and Timmy Vernor, and standing (from left) Shane Minks and Dee Scott. Timmy is the son of Columbia High School's varsity boys basketball coach John Vernor.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitUQuwjMMub4YT3xPxDhm7UfSYgnCKARARn8VAVrLfQTIEWiG52JEu1imt27V7HxC0G7wPTx7c2FknEmneX5uGJLYwb4SjXEigjlhP9ccFgXgUW3v0EBEYbeQ_GWwpJz6oBvC6A64Pzx-k/s1600-h/Dub+Bombers.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 283px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385491093284103186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitUQuwjMMub4YT3xPxDhm7UfSYgnCKARARn8VAVrLfQTIEWiG52JEu1imt27V7HxC0G7wPTx7c2FknEmneX5uGJLYwb4SjXEigjlhP9ccFgXgUW3v0EBEYbeQ_GWwpJz6oBvC6A64Pzx-k/s400/Dub+Bombers.jpg" /></a>
<div>My youngest son Blake Gupton is pictured kneeling beside the birthday boy, Donald Ray Scott Jr., in the photo above with their fellow West Columbia Little League All Stars Tim Vernor (left) and Shane Minks (right). I took this photo in July of 2000 with the quartet of all stars and best friends with their all star team coach William Minks, Shane's dad. I was the assistant coach to William in 2000.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-8115230747266348182009-09-24T18:18:00.012-05:002009-09-24T23:30:25.648-05:00Losing a beloved family pet<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2cUuabMtadSAIHfFWPz3KrG_wPBVsfN0yp3cddDQgTV7IDc8BZI70Nt3dqVYAUr08dlsDwRjSTha8VxLWqQjC7Wo4m7Xw4vmaDBYHI9N1TJ6Ue13_11TWgSs1RUf1i41dqvbRU_JnDuQ/s1600-h/Baby+Shiloh.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 286px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385246993889893234" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhR2cUuabMtadSAIHfFWPz3KrG_wPBVsfN0yp3cddDQgTV7IDc8BZI70Nt3dqVYAUr08dlsDwRjSTha8VxLWqQjC7Wo4m7Xw4vmaDBYHI9N1TJ6Ue13_11TWgSs1RUf1i41dqvbRU_JnDuQ/s400/Baby+Shiloh.jpg" /></a> can be just as devastating to a true dog lover like myself as having to say goodbye to an actual family member. Wednesday morning I found my 13-year-old black lab mix Shiloh dead, ending our pet's lengthy battle with cancer and other health issues that canine's must deal with as they grow older. Born on February 23, 1996, in the backyard of our former home on Reverend Swinney Street in West Columbia, Shiloh was one of 10 puppies our dog Licorice delivered. Shiloh was the "pick of the litter" in my viewpoint and, as a result, was the only one of the 10 that we kept to raise ourselves. He was a wonderful companion, loyal family pet, and beautiful little ball of fur who grew into one of the best pets this lifetime animal lover has ever had. My heart was broken on the morning of September 23, 2009, when I realized that Shiloh's life had suddenly ended. In the absence of his mother Licorice, who died a couple years ago at the age of 14, Shiloh had shared our backyard on Gupton Lane for many years with our adopted beagle dog Shasta. It was devastating to witness Shasta lying near Shiloh's lifeless body Wednesday morning, well aware that Shasta's loss of her best friend was even greater than my own. The photo below indicates just how young my sons were when Licorice delivered her litter of puppies over 13 years ago. Brian (in the center holding Shiloh when he was a puppy) is now 27, Bret (at right below) is now 23, and a bespectacled Blake (at left) is now 21. For those of you who know my children and how they appear today, one can easily figure out just how much of these boys' lives their dog Shiloh has been a big part of. Peggy and I grieve over the deaths of each of our family pets with the same sense of great personal loss that we would struggle through when losing a human family member. So if either of us appears to be having a tough time getting through the coming days, forgive us and give us time to adjust to our futures without our beloved pet. Rest in peace, Shiloh. I buried you near your mother Licorice under the big ol' shade tree you always loved to spread out beneath on hot summer days. Your absence from our lives has already been a difficult adjustment. You were truly a special pet, a four-legged buddy I will never forget. I'm glad you are not hurting anymore, for that alone I am thankful, but I'm really gonna miss you, boy!
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-TSMWBSlhXuaj0sKicIMeAz-Q-MbADYvdckoIsIA7ydno6CdCgvHOSilKuhMxac_9iCRtmeM2dT69pdFHQH-1G1rHtOM377MSpK8xha0Ze-_q3dMrhREzXmFzCmwOwqHjZhBiPceITVa/s1600-h/Boys+and+dogs.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385246518124311874" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjn-TSMWBSlhXuaj0sKicIMeAz-Q-MbADYvdckoIsIA7ydno6CdCgvHOSilKuhMxac_9iCRtmeM2dT69pdFHQH-1G1rHtOM377MSpK8xha0Ze-_q3dMrhREzXmFzCmwOwqHjZhBiPceITVa/s400/Boys+and+dogs.jpg" /></a>
<div>The photos above and below were taken in 1996 at the neighborhood park on Dance Drive in West Columbia when we still had three of Licorice's puppies. I definitely had my hands full while holding Shiloh and his litter mates when they were a few months old. My oldest son Brian Gupton holds baby Shiloh in the photo above while my younger sons Bret and Blake have a grip on Licorice's other two pups who were given away shortly after these pictures were taken. I can only hope and pray that all of Licorice's puppies that were given away 13 years ago lived long, happy and healthy lives like their brother Shiloh did.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8Kw1B5-2ft5_0CsUIVVkJrubF1R94fz1U7C6hSNLaNohAVUfjOEPyKa_0uh449Yl9CmgtJEOhJbg9nnq_h71kuA1V6_Qn6Db3N7O9_hOJMtGN4Ka4_9swoIrD1AKLbBSDohfjdTtpkg7/s1600-h/Bundle+of+pups.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 397px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385244577357999042" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgk8Kw1B5-2ft5_0CsUIVVkJrubF1R94fz1U7C6hSNLaNohAVUfjOEPyKa_0uh449Yl9CmgtJEOhJbg9nnq_h71kuA1V6_Qn6Db3N7O9_hOJMtGN4Ka4_9swoIrD1AKLbBSDohfjdTtpkg7/s400/Bundle+of+pups.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrxQ64hrbGW4ppzQfmuim33mazcDKV8HSiJdxL5kqG95_sWBWNsdwcDfY9ic8nZikNbLkmOuS3Yo3iaxeObd5Fix4qi8j3UJPsseCfTbkJOdJdNII3ZpslbkS4fLmuXI3cJ1HIRVtAIk7/s1600-h/Licorice+and+son.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 280px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385180435882766658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhRrxQ64hrbGW4ppzQfmuim33mazcDKV8HSiJdxL5kqG95_sWBWNsdwcDfY9ic8nZikNbLkmOuS3Yo3iaxeObd5Fix4qi8j3UJPsseCfTbkJOdJdNII3ZpslbkS4fLmuXI3cJ1HIRVtAIk7/s400/Licorice+and+son.jpg" /></a> Shiloh was extremely lucky to spend the first eleven years of his life with his mother. They were constant companions in our backyard and now, after Shiloh's life here with us, the family who loved him, came to an end, he is now reunited with his mother Licorice in "doggy heaven." After I informed my wife that Shiloh had died Wednesday morning, Peggy said that our old dog, whose movement of his left front leg had been hampered by the large tumor on his chest region, was now running with ease once again, chasing squirrels in heaven. Our female dog Licorice is pictured in the back of my truck several years ago with her boy Shiloh.
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfoZY7aVKUHjSbu6y2EKEKHh49M5c3VY3m_9m8-k750Quo9AZUvcziyFju-bhLgTbOZMFEY9xXtnREYTs2zNzY9FM67923gczvMo9vrqBvNAjvGCrtUezlH5x2Ojp6Ma2s7qux_M2fXqL/s1600-h/Shiloh+at+11.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 269px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385180232315834882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMfoZY7aVKUHjSbu6y2EKEKHh49M5c3VY3m_9m8-k750Quo9AZUvcziyFju-bhLgTbOZMFEY9xXtnREYTs2zNzY9FM67923gczvMo9vrqBvNAjvGCrtUezlH5x2Ojp6Ma2s7qux_M2fXqL/s400/Shiloh+at+11.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dzRUWXVKme0LaLp-mZclW9LGMDbjMdNkxeXN04-JetNQNPMR_it2aHEzU2mAsvljHcmwEkfNCHCKAsX1KKG-B0QWnm7IQ2iFi-Zd48rMRofACpwmuyGEiaUdlJDRAVKEZFF4Jr9tMQj4/s1600-h/Elissa+and+me.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 243px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385179873892041618" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh0dzRUWXVKme0LaLp-mZclW9LGMDbjMdNkxeXN04-JetNQNPMR_it2aHEzU2mAsvljHcmwEkfNCHCKAsX1KKG-B0QWnm7IQ2iFi-Zd48rMRofACpwmuyGEiaUdlJDRAVKEZFF4Jr9tMQj4/s400/Elissa+and+me.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixzjVVOP8yU4_jjjq7i5jyfSdZQIPXtHqQDt7t7y-RHCPg9nzKM4xVWJKusk9w1vzrvfcHkyJ8RWAmbi2PsnncsgjdYyO0SCBOM1JMmkhv4_batGzzUPDB04nUSpV0vyarC_9tS9f4ksoe/s1600-h/Shiloh+at+12.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 270px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5385179487574313202" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEixzjVVOP8yU4_jjjq7i5jyfSdZQIPXtHqQDt7t7y-RHCPg9nzKM4xVWJKusk9w1vzrvfcHkyJ8RWAmbi2PsnncsgjdYyO0SCBOM1JMmkhv4_batGzzUPDB04nUSpV0vyarC_9tS9f4ksoe/s400/Shiloh+at+12.jpg" /></a>
<div>In this photo of my dog Shiloh taken when he was 12 years old, my ol' boy is starting to show how advancing age and living with cancer was beginning to have an affect on him. The inoperable malignancy that limited Shiloh's mobility resulted in a local veterinarian giving him a month to six weeks to live. That was over a year ago. Shiloh was determined he would go out when he was good and ready . . . and he did.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-30945601800177850292009-09-18T15:48:00.015-05:002009-09-18T17:23:06.887-05:00Vintage Automobiles Are The Craze . . .<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3VsQhbE5uucJ57YQrx0zflr7iMajblngLtiG9kKB3M0nV9w6QDVY7ru18M3UfgtkVt9QlLioKakgJCLzFTV2mm2UkfrRaQO-5kug5JomgTdV_Oy46bVFpmJTLJx2PODsHoURSGUTfV9Y/s1600-h/Girl+On+Car.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382932168773073314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhc3VsQhbE5uucJ57YQrx0zflr7iMajblngLtiG9kKB3M0nV9w6QDVY7ru18M3UfgtkVt9QlLioKakgJCLzFTV2mm2UkfrRaQO-5kug5JomgTdV_Oy46bVFpmJTLJx2PODsHoURSGUTfV9Y/s400/Girl+On+Car.jpg" /></a>
<div>I simply love looking at old cars and trucks from the earlier half of the last century. Or even from the 50s and 60s. Car shows are always a lot of fun when I get to stick my head inside a vintage automobile that has been taken such wonderful care of and/or refurbished by its owner. Just like with movies and TV shows that take place in a time many, many, many years and decades ago. The production crews on those films bring together vintage cars and trucks and motorcycles from whatever era the movie is supposed to represent. Picture in your mind Ryan O'Neil and his young daughter Tatum in the film "Paper Moon," Warren Beatty, Faye Dunaway and Gene Hackman stealing a variety of vintage cars from the 1930s in "Bonnie And Clyde," and many old automobiles from the early decades of the America depicted in Frances Ford Coppola's first two "Godfather" movies. That is what I think of when I look at these old photos from my family picture collections. I wonder what it would have been like to have lived during that time. I have no idea who the little girl is in the picture above. I assume she is related to me somehow but could not swear to it. That's a classic old car in the photo though, isn't it? And I love that old car pictured below. That is my wife's parents, Dorothy and Omer Hall, in a photo taken in 1945. I assume that was my father-in-law's car that he drove shortly after he got out of the military at the conclusion of World War II. But, again, I really have no way of knowing. There is absolutely nothing written on the back of the photo. But, pictured in this blog entry, are several vintage cars from the Gupton's and Hall's family photo collections for your viewing pleasure. And, oh yea, in the photo at left near the top of this blog, that's me around 1959 or maybe 1960 at my family's home in Markham, Texas, shown driving my very first car. What a great Christmas that was!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEior3mZF3cCxKXYJOsq_Rl9rZdnb570QDXL_kVSftgXxUTOrtYBWgfKZN23PvS1RIpKhwkz-wBmAzqCah8CABDBkINdJiZE1RoQ7D7FeyfFezI2p92IXxIonZ1k1yofnk6OBE1LCj7rUQBZ/s1600-h/Dotsy+%26+Omer.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 218px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382927710056273666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEior3mZF3cCxKXYJOsq_Rl9rZdnb570QDXL_kVSftgXxUTOrtYBWgfKZN23PvS1RIpKhwkz-wBmAzqCah8CABDBkINdJiZE1RoQ7D7FeyfFezI2p92IXxIonZ1k1yofnk6OBE1LCj7rUQBZ/s400/Dotsy+%26+Omer.jpg" /></a>
<div>Can anyone viewing my blog enlighten me as to what kind of cars these are in the three lower photos? Are they Model T's or Model A's? I assume they are Fords. They are from my grandparents, S.M. and Eula Gupton's photo collection, and none of these pictures were labeled or identified in anyway. I can still remember my mother telling me decades ago that she wanted to sit down one day and write on the backs of all of her photos so future generations of Guptons and Gieslers would know who each person was in all of their old pictures. But now she and my father have both joined their parents in the Hereafter . . . and still none of those old photos have been labeled. If any of my relatives viewing this blog can tell me who the people are in the photos and/or who the vintage automobiles belonged to, I encourage you to do so. You can either add a comment at the bottom of this blog or notify me by email or the next time we see each other.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNomVpELzBajNI8_kHpomJokMZkDlb7LBqHOlvEP5Bdqak2DxNZEM-POc9IVWAqEfkV00WRmrBduOJEYMTyuBIDRJB6QTDyS0p5hC3bBwPpr81QrfN4lQDqlf7s7t15zWz6GFW4mJq8HhN/s1600-h/Man+By+Car.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 326px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382925792937262306" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNomVpELzBajNI8_kHpomJokMZkDlb7LBqHOlvEP5Bdqak2DxNZEM-POc9IVWAqEfkV00WRmrBduOJEYMTyuBIDRJB6QTDyS0p5hC3bBwPpr81QrfN4lQDqlf7s7t15zWz6GFW4mJq8HhN/s400/Man+By+Car.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxIzzP_w30muR68zaVe0H1tqUQx2EhfFauX9hk7CLxRYFi7RKZZKeHGvyMhXnqqvMBnQ0xSzFc-fIeS228S1Jen9XbtBayenUGWDCfnm7sieblMcU-iKmRoBiAg6uPMY3EhDEzDGpStPlO/s1600-h/Old+Car.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 320px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382925577199992978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxIzzP_w30muR68zaVe0H1tqUQx2EhfFauX9hk7CLxRYFi7RKZZKeHGvyMhXnqqvMBnQ0xSzFc-fIeS228S1Jen9XbtBayenUGWDCfnm7sieblMcU-iKmRoBiAg6uPMY3EhDEzDGpStPlO/s400/Old+Car.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44TiFJxH-cjrUtVRprmGU5Xgegcoe_wYmXs2rvNlFDwMm6Xhp_IaW8mk3VytkiO0RYvf7qkDaOIuiulCAlApT8PVTNUC3JifuglzxhvOkVYnQSIpOIJxZ4QYuD1SY3ntz22gtUsTiQNif/s1600-h/38+car.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 294px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382925297463906210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg44TiFJxH-cjrUtVRprmGU5Xgegcoe_wYmXs2rvNlFDwMm6Xhp_IaW8mk3VytkiO0RYvf7qkDaOIuiulCAlApT8PVTNUC3JifuglzxhvOkVYnQSIpOIJxZ4QYuD1SY3ntz22gtUsTiQNif/s400/38+car.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCplR182YMSr8DTy9Zb4QwDBMTOegTnYOIggHBTinZBER3jeV2dlIUouyZ7YAoZGrascj1-fxdqKDv6z1KsynB67vwq-jFR0ohsN2i8sfy35ByGNV6NKn3IH3bYUfYzA99hjTKgbl4thl4/s1600-h/Throwing+Pass.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 351px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382925012237430226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgCplR182YMSr8DTy9Zb4QwDBMTOegTnYOIggHBTinZBER3jeV2dlIUouyZ7YAoZGrascj1-fxdqKDv6z1KsynB67vwq-jFR0ohsN2i8sfy35ByGNV6NKn3IH3bYUfYzA99hjTKgbl4thl4/s400/Throwing+Pass.jpg" /></a>
<div>The picture below was taken in 1949 of my father, Rex Gupton, washing his car in the early days of his marriage to my mother. The same car may be one of the two in the background in the photo above of my uncle, S.D. Gupton, my Dad's youngest brother, photographed trimming the limbs in the backyard on one of his parents' trees. The photos of my father and his brother S.D. were more than likely taken the same day because both photos have "September, 1949" printed on the back. Can anyone ID these old automobiles from the 1940s?</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mHkjeVK_4p-IdUSCrAC-rjgTigsORrWyIj8QvfPwkLO-lRICuhfx4P-4RGxMueVETdWumlXnjm_llpgNnInFr8To7Lc89r0FAP7bQD-mms2MBjjU3GmdrnHVpBsGwvvJc6hVxCqSWd2x/s1600-h/Dad+Washes+Car.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 303px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382923422072615106" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-mHkjeVK_4p-IdUSCrAC-rjgTigsORrWyIj8QvfPwkLO-lRICuhfx4P-4RGxMueVETdWumlXnjm_llpgNnInFr8To7Lc89r0FAP7bQD-mms2MBjjU3GmdrnHVpBsGwvvJc6hVxCqSWd2x/s400/Dad+Washes+Car.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qVfuxNHXPsT5HYsfIoQB-Xfhpky7sbD-_-lAjeFJt-F7cTdTa8Ptf4AB1jVuOv-manRbIQS_T5bGqiRrEPL5xYYp5UBhSQoYDQ8D_iUI7pDIMurKYwWdJOYV9M12MHAje9XxjPIU_VSm/s1600-h/Howard+Giesler.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 295px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382922180868573938" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj2qVfuxNHXPsT5HYsfIoQB-Xfhpky7sbD-_-lAjeFJt-F7cTdTa8Ptf4AB1jVuOv-manRbIQS_T5bGqiRrEPL5xYYp5UBhSQoYDQ8D_iUI7pDIMurKYwWdJOYV9M12MHAje9XxjPIU_VSm/s400/Howard+Giesler.jpg" /></a> </div>
<div>There is a vintage automobile in the background of the photo at right. I wonder who it belonged to? This photo of my uncle, Howard Robert Giesler, was taken around 1949 or 1950 when my mother's younger brother was home on leave from the U.S. Army during the Korean War. It might have belonged to my uncle and aunt, Jack and Yvonne Broadway, since their son Randy was in several of the photos taken of my uncle "Hob" Giesler that day at his mother's home in East Columbia.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4XEdNdNuIwOO-41KisCFRwPPcit6M-mUnTX8Z4HXGvt1RI9cgBYtbDJYX-rqOF7Bk6J-3RMbSoVkzqQ3clqS8cPLAQC2hGNDYNn3FBJ9nOMtUN2hkRaS-preQp3XlHQjWy5vU-zAvX6l/s1600-h/Randy+B..jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 353px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382921883181061778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhI4XEdNdNuIwOO-41KisCFRwPPcit6M-mUnTX8Z4HXGvt1RI9cgBYtbDJYX-rqOF7Bk6J-3RMbSoVkzqQ3clqS8cPLAQC2hGNDYNn3FBJ9nOMtUN2hkRaS-preQp3XlHQjWy5vU-zAvX6l/s400/Randy+B..jpg" /></a>
<div>My guess is that Freeport is where the photo at left was taken. That's my cousin, Randy Broadway, when he was a little boy standing across the street from an old car whose make and model I am ignorant of. If you can identify it, comment at the bottom of this blog entry. Randy, the eldest son of my mother's older sister Yvonne Giesler Broadway, posed for this shot in the late 1940s or early 1950s.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBloaxQaUGeOZDHyKgCUHqbsUMnYIwCPuPVVdHD4JzufANbqE9XGlKast9i8OdcUJS8fsMO-cEhzIb4XJPtEcMZDcwHcC7yfTMC-AceKy84jg9Li571UOpY7N72y9IPMaYVZZuUvI5vWZD/s1600-h/Kirby+%26+Girls.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 210px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382920636209155330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBloaxQaUGeOZDHyKgCUHqbsUMnYIwCPuPVVdHD4JzufANbqE9XGlKast9i8OdcUJS8fsMO-cEhzIb4XJPtEcMZDcwHcC7yfTMC-AceKy84jg9Li571UOpY7N72y9IPMaYVZZuUvI5vWZD/s400/Kirby+%26+Girls.jpg" /></a>
<div>Do any of you vintage automobile enthusiasts out there know what kind of cars are in the photos above and below? If so add a comment to the bottom of this blog entry or email me at <a href="mailto:tracyg@embarqmail.com">tracyg@embarqmail.com</a> and let me know. The summer of '46 was the setting for the above photo. That's my godfather, Kirby Anthony Fontenot, with another woman's arms draped around his shoulders as his wife (my father's only sister) Ruby Nell Gupton Fontenot stands within striking distance. My Aunt Ruby is the fifth woman from the right, standing about in the center of the picture. If any of my older family members can identify anybody else in the photo above please do so. And that's my Dad's sister and mother in the lower photo. Aunt Ruby, left, and her mother, Eula Meadows Gupton, appear to be posing in front of a Naval battleship. I love this shot of all the old cars parked in front of the battleship. The battleship picture was developed in April of 1950.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYc2sWrceITjnwzAkCrMczRNCkROtndd0oOnu7_i1pGS2QC1PoLK6dwJl4J5jDOWCNh5UKyUKQqhzA2BhvQRd7sCmWzEUKqU3H_rIlhNFg1uSFwDemfAJvVIGjyBk-xW0wcK3Kts-ykG7/s1600-h/Ruby+%26+Eula.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 226px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382918273375570882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdYc2sWrceITjnwzAkCrMczRNCkROtndd0oOnu7_i1pGS2QC1PoLK6dwJl4J5jDOWCNh5UKyUKQqhzA2BhvQRd7sCmWzEUKqU3H_rIlhNFg1uSFwDemfAJvVIGjyBk-xW0wcK3Kts-ykG7/s400/Ruby+%26+Eula.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQylctaCOQqVea1sie7tvXzwrr6JgIGJhIRArNA6jvxIiwXIxqO_huIGHUhL50QQuu55a8umQuXyizJfB7qKwMD4RzVi-VFPLj-2AVGNjKUED7vViPE3mX0iFF7kfFducpmsq4PyTGZnMe/s1600-h/Me+%26+Ruby+Nell.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 387px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382917994267895506" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQylctaCOQqVea1sie7tvXzwrr6JgIGJhIRArNA6jvxIiwXIxqO_huIGHUhL50QQuu55a8umQuXyizJfB7qKwMD4RzVi-VFPLj-2AVGNjKUED7vViPE3mX0iFF7kfFducpmsq4PyTGZnMe/s400/Me+%26+Ruby+Nell.jpg" /></a>
<div> I don't know what make or year model the car in the background is in the photo above. The photo was taken in 1958 in my grandparents' backyard in West Columbia. That's me in the arms of my godmother as my big brother Cody and I pose for Mama's camera with my Dad's sister, Ruby Nell Fontenot. See, I wasn't always old, wrinkled and ugly. I started out as a cute little kid!</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLoaxBy9g5gYO2LVjv1YgwpxglRJZjMa4im2s_Eub8-mT0vgl8SrQWbMyYq1E4RhKvJXZ4ZVX2HB70JLtlmYiNpXGOoT7nn-4JS81Zp6XyQnUE-0dLRAjIPejbPdwP4_SgfEsDBtTIMhaQ/s1600-h/Cody's+Hot+Rod.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 237px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5382916648878369442" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLoaxBy9g5gYO2LVjv1YgwpxglRJZjMa4im2s_Eub8-mT0vgl8SrQWbMyYq1E4RhKvJXZ4ZVX2HB70JLtlmYiNpXGOoT7nn-4JS81Zp6XyQnUE-0dLRAjIPejbPdwP4_SgfEsDBtTIMhaQ/s400/Cody's+Hot+Rod.jpg" /></a>
<div>The first "hot rod" my big brother Cody Gupton fell head over heels in love with, according to the notes jotted down on the back of this photo by our mother Verna, at a Houston-area carnival in 1954. "Couldn't get him out of ol' No. 2," Mama wrote on the photo. She took my brother to the carnival on a visit to Bellaire with my father's sister Ruby Nell and her husband, Kirby Fontenot.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-82784127944715803862009-09-13T16:22:00.009-05:002009-09-13T17:56:40.115-05:00Tupac Amaru Shakur . . .<div align="left"><span style="color:#999999;">Gifted rapper, actor, dancer, poet. Taken from this life on September 13, 1996, by assassins' bullets in Las Vegas, Nevada. 2Pac was only 25 years old, the victim of a gang-affiliated hit on the Vegas strip following a Mike Tyson heavyweight fight. Thirteen years following the rapper's murder, his killer or killers have not been brought to justice. </span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#999999;"></span></div><div align="left"><span style="color:#999999;">Tupac sold more than 75 million albums and CD's and remains a popular icon of the rap and hip-hop world, more than a dozen years after his death. Today, on the anniversary of his passing, I present a small selection of 2Pac's poetry, taken from the 1999 book, "The Rose That Grew From Concrete." His talent was unbounded, a raw force that commanded attention and respect. His death was tragic, a violent homage to the power of his voice. His legacy is indomitable, remaining vibrant and alive. </span></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"></span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">The Fear in the Heart of a Man</span></strong></div><div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">Dedicated 2 My Heart</span></strong></div>
against an attacker I will boldly take my stand
because my heart will show fear 4 no man
but 4 a broken heart I run with fright
scared 2 be blind in a vulnerable night
I believe this fear is in every man
some will acknowledge it others will fail 2 understand
there is no fear in a shallow heart
because shallow hearts don't fall apart
but feeling hearts that truly care
are fragile 2 the flow of air
and if I am 2 be true then I must give
my fragile heart
I may receive great joy or u may return it
ripped apart
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRpTrDytHPc7JvEL_L7pbW2XVUhDUG7ps31MeeKPJafPejAbc4abZV7Qlu6O6xeH9BuxTTOHHe4TJiH0MfBQ5RGcOlBb9akl0OyIMdVgLqhh772pXKKW9bLzdMeNQZkLsyQO5hcFra90G/s1600-h/Last+Photo.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 195px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381081830992155778" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVRpTrDytHPc7JvEL_L7pbW2XVUhDUG7ps31MeeKPJafPejAbc4abZV7Qlu6O6xeH9BuxTTOHHe4TJiH0MfBQ5RGcOlBb9akl0OyIMdVgLqhh772pXKKW9bLzdMeNQZkLsyQO5hcFra90G/s400/Last+Photo.jpg" /></a>
<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#993399;">Fallen Star</span></strong></div>
They could never understand
what u set out 2 do
instead they chose 2
ridicule u
when u got weak
They loved the sight
of your dimming
and flickering starlight
How could they understand what was so intricate
2 be loved by so many, so intimate
they wanted 2 c your lifeless corpse
This way u could not alter the course
of ignorance that they have set
2 make my people forget
what they have done for much 2 long
2 just forget and carry on
I had loved u forever because of who u R
And now I mourn our fallen star
<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">And 2morrow</span></strong></div>
Today is filled with anger
Fueled with hidden hate
Scared of being outcast
Afraid of common fate
Today is built on tragedies
which no one wants 2 face
Nightmares 2 humanities
and morally disgraced
Tonight is filled with rage
Violence in the air
Children bred with ruthlessness
Because no one at home cares
Tonight I lay my head down
But the pressure never stops
gnawing at my sanity
content when I am dropped
But 2morrow I c change
A chance 2 build anew
Built on spirit, intent of heart
and ideals based on truth
And 2morrow I wake with second wind
And strong because of pride
2 know I fought with all my heart 2 keep my dream alive
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3GxelFFAZk67gQLzl0oEk66i20FRN-_tyKKkeb42EUln5ZsueYaEoWCBw-ewsj_6hhUNF2ozrFxy7jY5Q78OPGqs79VtcUxCwYOor_nWpxBfNvw3zVSfsUJpJu0tAM7CA2E2trLcTy4W/s1600-h/Tupac+Shakur.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 261px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381077394521945298" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgq3GxelFFAZk67gQLzl0oEk66i20FRN-_tyKKkeb42EUln5ZsueYaEoWCBw-ewsj_6hhUNF2ozrFxy7jY5Q78OPGqs79VtcUxCwYOor_nWpxBfNvw3zVSfsUJpJu0tAM7CA2E2trLcTy4W/s400/Tupac+Shakur.jpg" /></a>
<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;">Life Through My Eyes</span></strong></div>
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<div>Life through my bloodshot eyes</div>
<div>would scare a square 2 death</div>
<div>poverty, murder, violence</div>
<div>and never a moment 2 rest</div>
<div>Fun and games R few</div>
<div>but treasured like gold 2 me</div>
<div>cuz I realize that I must return</div>
<div>2 my spot in poverty</div>
<div>But mock my words when I say</div>
<div>my heart will not exist</div>
<div>unless my destiny comes through</div>
<div>and puts an end 2 all of this</div>
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<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">Sometimes I Cry</span></strong></div>
<div></div>
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<div>Sometimes when I'm alone</div>
<div>I cry because I'm on my own</div>
<div>The tears I cry R bitter and warm</div>
<div>They flow with life but take no form</div>
<div>I cry because my heart is torn</div>
<div>and I find it difficult 2 carry on</div>
<div>If I had an ear 2 confide in</div>
<div>I would cry among my treasured friends</div>
<div>But who do u know that stops that long</div>
<div>to help another carry on</div>
<div>The world moves fast and it would rather pass u by</div>
<div>than 2 stop and c what makes u cry</div>
<div>It's painful and sad and sometimes I cry</div>
<div>and no one cares about why.</div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
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<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#ff0000;">In the Depths of Solitude (Dedicated 2 Me)</span></strong></div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div>I exist in the depths of solitude</div>
<div>pondering my true goal</div>
<div>Trying 2 find peace of mind</div>
<div>and still preserve my soul</div>
<div>CONSTANTLY yearning 2 be accepted</div>
<div>and from all receive respect</div>
<div>Never compromising but sometimes risky</div>
<div>and that is my only regret</div>
<div>A young heart with an old soul</div>
<div>how can there be peace</div>
<div>How can I be in the depths of solitude</div>
<div>when there R 2 inside of me</div>
<div>This Duo within me causes</div>
<div>the perfect opportunity</div>
<div>2 learn and live twice as fast</div>
<div>as those who accept simplicity</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_zi7h_gkgchHZFx7Jgr3ItxdRRaIEXj5UMS5DYqsaXA5LzZ6wQO1yVaqWmVLszLCG80Lg60CEnT1sRno23yAQeV8Y2vp8MAVCFojIqzXzVTTO9QsSmzwkqsY8E0hVDTbDK-P6L3yUH0s/s1600-h/Amaru.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 222px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381073221218355330" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEir_zi7h_gkgchHZFx7Jgr3ItxdRRaIEXj5UMS5DYqsaXA5LzZ6wQO1yVaqWmVLszLCG80Lg60CEnT1sRno23yAQeV8Y2vp8MAVCFojIqzXzVTTO9QsSmzwkqsY8E0hVDTbDK-P6L3yUH0s/s400/Amaru.jpg" /></a>
<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#000099;">What Is It That I Search 4</span></strong></div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div>I know not what I search 4</div>
<div>But I know I have yet 2 find it,</div>
<div>Because it is invisible 2 the eye</div>
<div>My heart must search 4 it blinded.</div>
<div></div>
<div>And if by chance I find it,</div>
<div>Will I know my mission is achieved?</div>
<div>Can one come 2 conclusions,</div>
<div>Before the question is conceived?</div>
<div></div>
<div>Just as no one knows</div>
<div>what lies beyond the shore,</div>
<div>I will never find the answer 2</div>
<div>what it is that I search 4.</div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div align="center"><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;"><strong>The Eternal Lament</strong></span></div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div>From my mind 2 the depths of my soul</div>
<div>I yearn 2 achieve all of my goals</div>
<div>And all of my free time will be spent</div>
<div>On the 1's I miss I will lament</div>
<div></div>
<div>I am not a perfectionist</div>
<div>But still I seek perfection</div>
<div>I am not a great romantic</div>
<div>But yet I yearn 4 affection</div>
<div></div>
<div>Eternally my mind will produce</div>
<div>ways 2 put my talents 2 use</div>
<div>and when I'm done no matter where I've been</div>
<div>I'll yearn 2 do it all again.</div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#006600;">When Ure Heart Turns Cold</span></strong></div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div>When your heart turns cold</div>
<div>it causes your soul 2 freeze</div>
<div>It spreads throughout your spirit</div>
<div>like a ruthless feeling disease</div>
<div>The walls that once were down</div>
<div>now stand firm and tall</div>
<div>Safe from hate/love, pain/joy</div>
<div>until u feel nothing at all</div>
<div>When ure heart turns cold</div>
<div>a baby's cry means nothing</div>
<div>A dead corpse is trivial</div>
<div>Mothers neglecting children is daily</div>
<div>Loneliness becomes your routine friend</div>
<div>Death seems like tranquility</div>
<div>Sleeping is never pleasant</div>
<div>if u even sleep at all</div>
<div>u forget ideals and turn off the reason</div>
<div>2 make sure the product gets sold</div>
<div>You don't understand how I behave</div>
<div>Just wait till your heart turns Cold!</div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhge8ulY_ptrnPqQH8eudl9SAcd6EURg6vNAKwmiWcY9NAMf0v6mwxYfeNikN6o5dZ1SaaSdheLE-IVf491vZzc6YqNSLJM0bfAuJCw1Yk9VK9qh2gkApNxue9OYDDHgT2bSxRvuUmiOGBE/s1600-h/2Pac.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 271px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5381067514250055826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhge8ulY_ptrnPqQH8eudl9SAcd6EURg6vNAKwmiWcY9NAMf0v6mwxYfeNikN6o5dZ1SaaSdheLE-IVf491vZzc6YqNSLJM0bfAuJCw1Yk9VK9qh2gkApNxue9OYDDHgT2bSxRvuUmiOGBE/s400/2Pac.jpg" /></a>
<div align="center"><strong><span style="font-size:130%;color:#cc0000;">GOD</span></strong></div>
<div></div>
<div></div>
<div>when I was alone and had nothing</div>
<div>I asked 4 a friend 2 help me bear the</div>
<div>pain no one came except . . . GOD</div>
<div></div>
<div>when I needed a breath 2 rise</div>
<div>from my sleep no one could</div>
<div>help me except . . . . GOD</div>
<div></div>
<div>when all I saw was sadness</div>
<div>and I needed answers no one</div>
<div>heard me except . . . . GOD</div>
<div></div>
<div>so when I am asked who I</div>
<div>give my unconditional love 2</div>
<div>look for no other name</div>
<div>except . . . . . GOD!</div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-55885581854557176532009-09-12T10:47:00.014-05:002009-09-12T13:47:42.698-05:00Local Talent Making Names In Music SceneFor lovers of great music such as myself, I have looked far and wide to satiate my lust for truly enjoyable sounds to blast through my stereo speakers and MP3 earbuds. Great Britain has given me The Beatles, The Animals, Sting and Seal. Australians like The BeeGees and Men At Work, Africans like Jonathan Butler and Hugh Masakela, and the powerful sounds of Ireland's U2 and Wales' Tom Jones have been entertaining me musically for many decades. And my prodigious record collection boasts singers and bands from all over America. But today I need look no further than my own home town and neighboring cities to find ample musical talent. I have collected a few new CD's to add to all those outstanding sounds from years gone by that were recorded by men who either grew up in West Columbia, Texas, or have sturdy family roots in my hometown.
Zack Walther And The Cronkites are difficult to categorize when listening to their new CD entitled "Ambition," their debut Sustain Records release. Vocalist and band leader Walther, who grew up and went to school in West Columbia, labels The Cronkites music as "New Braunfels rock." It could be called progressive Texas country, hard rocking jams or what was once referred to in my younger days as "pop." But whatever you want to call it, the sounds eminating from your speakers when you play the CD "Ambition" are wonderful. I have to give it to my fellow West Columbian, the guy has a very soulful voice.
The band's website describes their sound as "the next evolution of the sounds from the Lone Star State created by a new generation that's taking the stage with some serious moxie, grounded in the best roots yet also right up to date for these times." Well put. I have really enjoyed listening to "Ambition" since purchasing it earlier this summer on a trip my wife and I made to New Braunfels and the adjoining community of Greune. I bought the CD simply because Zack is from West Columbia and, admittedly I did not have high expectations when I inserted it into my truck's CD player. Boy, was I ever blown away by just how good this new group is. From the opening number "Georgia Cane" to the closer "Pull The Pin," the 10 songs on "Ambition" are without one single throw-away tune. They are all good, from the tender prayer for redemption "Just Say When," to the rocker "Money Tree" and great songs I really enjoyed like "Without One Sound" and "Down Easy."
"We were touring pretty heavily beforehand and especially now with the record, doing all these in-stores and fronts, and Hastings and Best Buys," Walther told a reporter for The Brazosport Facts recently during a stop back home. "It's sort of surreal and foreign just because we've never done that sort of thing."
"I'm very proud to be from Brazoria County and I love coming back and seeing the place and seeing my hometown," Walther, who now resides in New Braunfels, told The Facts reporter.
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezbIOoh6Xwwi0KuxsxnLeHVYmnWcPa50p31z4xw7Oe8xoilfirT0T2I7cYytQ7JN0EBvFjCe6R9x8bWxCJ5NsiuqUkp2SeACR1uy5Encj5YI9NCK_Mq2dstfNbFNTWZ4Gom9cN7XDIrvz/s1600-h/Zack+Walther+Band.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 203px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380645846896734146" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjezbIOoh6Xwwi0KuxsxnLeHVYmnWcPa50p31z4xw7Oe8xoilfirT0T2I7cYytQ7JN0EBvFjCe6R9x8bWxCJ5NsiuqUkp2SeACR1uy5Encj5YI9NCK_Mq2dstfNbFNTWZ4Gom9cN7XDIrvz/s400/Zack+Walther+Band.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirPOr9zgew0HU1Jod2eZ6iRCYkzGzkk1jqg1hS0__EwjuUMpsLDA0SgbuYcAEjZYhQDdptk44vSvdb5o2GrisrV6Jb0dhQ6E7yLIxrNOYLD17f6q7Dnwrb3htRXOMlY09dOxeeqfQmbcE/s1600-h/The+Dub%27s+Zack.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 246px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380642815377454130" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgirPOr9zgew0HU1Jod2eZ6iRCYkzGzkk1jqg1hS0__EwjuUMpsLDA0SgbuYcAEjZYhQDdptk44vSvdb5o2GrisrV6Jb0dhQ6E7yLIxrNOYLD17f6q7Dnwrb3htRXOMlY09dOxeeqfQmbcE/s400/The+Dub%27s+Zack.jpg" /></a>
<div>Zack, who grew up in the Gayle Estates subdivision near West Columbia, joined the school choir in the sixth grade at Charlie Brown Intermediate School. He played in local bands when he was a student at West Columbia High School and majored in Southwest Texas State's prestigioius Sound Recording Technology program when he attended the San Marcos college. He graduated from the university that is now known as Texas State with a degree in Geography, which Walther says is "fitting for a road dog in the making."</div>
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<div>He started a dancehall band with some friends from high school called Sanger West, and fronted the band Roger Wilco prior to putting Zack Walther And The Cronkites together. Zack recorded three albums with Roger Wilco and toured throughout Texas and Oklahoma.</div>
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<div>The former West Columbian says "As I get older, I'm writing songs that are more personal and heartfelt and about love and loss and meaningful stuff."</div>
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<div>Zack Walther And The Cronkites have played The Armadillo Ballroom outside of Brazoria's city limits several times in recent history (August 14th was their most recent stop at the Armadillo) and have been the featured band at Greune Hall near New Braunfels on Wednesday nights since last year. Check their website at <a href="http://zwcmusic.com/">http://zwcmusic.com/</a> to see where Zack and his band are playing in the coming months, to read up on a little history of the band, order CD's and obtain a free download of their new single "Georgia Cane" off of the "Ambition" CD. There is also a new video for the song "Money Tree" at Zack's website, and another video for "So Easy" from "The Blue Light Live" CD available for viewing.</div>
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<div>The new CD "Ambition" was produced by fellow musician and songwriter Mark Addison. The Cronkites are comprised of vocalist and guitarist Walther, bassist David Pettit, drummer Chris Compton and guitarist and keyboardist Luke Leverett. Walther cowrote "Just Say When" and "Money Tree" off of the new CD with Leverett, whose work on a range of guitars and keyboards "brings a kaleidoscope of colors to the recording," the band's website reveals. Bassist Pettit, who hails from the Texas Panhandle, "melds his country roots with later time playing blues-rock to add even more to the group's sound," the website history of the band states.</div>
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<div>"We have the ability here to have a softer acoustic power and then go balls to the wall and leave it out on stage every single night," Leverett said.</div>
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<div>"Mountain Laurel Bloom" is a song on the new CD that takes listeners for a spiritually-blessed and folk-inflected tour of the Texas Hill Country. And Walther "sings it all with a classic vocal strength and finesse full of feelings that hit anyone with a heartbeat and ear for timeless music right where they live and love music," the Cronkites' website claims. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDQY8W1ChvP002FDyTuFPAsE0jXOZjoYsOQSvmKyHYPGMFoAwKhadHXcnc4aQPCg7klNGJ-XpNEDUjt2rK6Y7rYvgZmef3yGZcO32Ey62OiSGiml9OvLhyphenhyphenPi5dYsEIPFySpEVlxCiXv4A/s1600-h/Reece+Cadenhead.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380637458396882578" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiFDQY8W1ChvP002FDyTuFPAsE0jXOZjoYsOQSvmKyHYPGMFoAwKhadHXcnc4aQPCg7klNGJ-XpNEDUjt2rK6Y7rYvgZmef3yGZcO32Ey62OiSGiml9OvLhyphenhyphenPi5dYsEIPFySpEVlxCiXv4A/s400/Reece+Cadenhead.jpg" /></a>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2mCcdhZzJNe_7fbiYqsH4qKO2EX4SG9FbL8CbS96ZVi60c2snjy4FS9VnjjxrfMjqrfapbEJVj3vNKuZaLm2cR-I4DAOzp5-RtlyHsaTnbK6k-Y32Rw1D1XhrO9eXnKsJr-5ETODjI7_/s1600-h/Zack+Walther+%26+Cronkites.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380636888702881906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjC2mCcdhZzJNe_7fbiYqsH4qKO2EX4SG9FbL8CbS96ZVi60c2snjy4FS9VnjjxrfMjqrfapbEJVj3vNKuZaLm2cR-I4DAOzp5-RtlyHsaTnbK6k-Y32Rw1D1XhrO9eXnKsJr-5ETODjI7_/s400/Zack+Walther+%26+Cronkites.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2th6F_s3txoYxSq9EhmIr3uyQux33gVH17HrwgQJunYsTNTPB8WfL0UgRuZ7gg_cLp7CJzuNq2BFHny8CtTX17K3_xfSbhAp4j1SkDp7QyfApVyL-ojBuQHSRq9Uwnc6RSz4m3YEHdjO/s1600-h/Singer+Reece+C..jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 266px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380636653239808210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhs2th6F_s3txoYxSq9EhmIr3uyQux33gVH17HrwgQJunYsTNTPB8WfL0UgRuZ7gg_cLp7CJzuNq2BFHny8CtTX17K3_xfSbhAp4j1SkDp7QyfApVyL-ojBuQHSRq9Uwnc6RSz4m3YEHdjO/s400/Singer+Reece+C..jpg" /></a>
<div>Reece Cadenhead first made an impact on me when he and his father Kevin Cadenhead sang at the wedding of Steven Horak and Reece's cousin, Ashley Kapalski, at the Catholic church in Lake Jackson. The qualities his singing voice possess are on a par with "American Idol" champions and those young men who sell millions of records worldwide. This kid is just that good. About a month ago I heard the Cadenheads, father and son, sing once again at the funeral for my childhood friend Charles "Boogie" Kapalski's mother at the Catholic church in West Columbia. Boogie's mother was Reece's great-grandmother. In between his two performances at the two local Catholic churches, my wife and son and I were entertained by Reece and Kevin Cadenhead at Dido's seafood restaurant on the San Bernard River near Brazoria. A large gathering of Reece's family and friends filled Dido's restaurant that night to celebrate the release of this Angleton High School graduate's first CD, "Sleepwalk Back To Texas."</div>
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<div>Reece recently returned to College Station to begin his sophomore year at Texas A&M. He is majoring in mechanical engineering at A&M and is a member of the Texas A&M Singing Cadets. But he just might have to put that career as a mechanical engineer on the back burner if his musical career takes off like it should. The young man from Angleton, whose parents are graduates of the high school in West Columbia, began singing in the choir at St. Joseph's Catholic Church in Brazoria. As a member of the Angleton High School choir his senior year Reece received top honors in the state solo contest.</div>
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<div>Give "Sleepwalk Back To Texas" a listen. Gup promises each of you who purchase this young man's CD will be glad that you did. It is amazingly good. Vocals and production on the CD were recorded at R/R Studio in Lake Jackson, Texas, under the direction of Jason Rooks. But this compilation of 10 original country songs were written and recorded primarily in Nashville, and the quality of the sound is evidence that some seriously talented musicians were involved in the production of "Sleepwalk Back To Texas." My favorite songs on Reece's CD are "As Good As Goodbye," "Ain't Gonna Take It," "Operating On A Broken Heart," "Something Real" and the title song "Sleepwalk Back To Texas."</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjq6rbn_WJWc-Tp2fubjSvBcSOyca5QIUhlMFkOXJntm-IY4fDdhVJ1K6L0JOXR2IirDj73M-Q-MZk18g_0IF1U2BSajSbdpGSYgHai7nGbpMWIJBsC7BD90hAN8Vz0fz_IlZAcWQ8JSoF/s1600-h/Red-eyed+Reece.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380631278773188402" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjq6rbn_WJWc-Tp2fubjSvBcSOyca5QIUhlMFkOXJntm-IY4fDdhVJ1K6L0JOXR2IirDj73M-Q-MZk18g_0IF1U2BSajSbdpGSYgHai7nGbpMWIJBsC7BD90hAN8Vz0fz_IlZAcWQ8JSoF/s400/Red-eyed+Reece.gif" /></a>
<div>Earlier this summer my family and I were treated on several occasions to the listening pleasure of hearing Bill Middleton and his band perform on Friday nights at Scott's Barbecue in downtown West Columbia. It was a double treat. I got to wolf down some of the best barbecued ribs and fried shrimp ever put before me at Scott Leopold's barbecue joint and hear the wonderful guitar pickin' and singing of my fellow West Columbian who everybody called Billy Bob when he was a kid growing up in my hometown. Bill is a 1973 graduate of Columbia High School who returned to his hometown after "working his way to the top of the bottom" of the music biz playing guitar and singing all over Texas. He says he relocated to Nashville, Tennessee, to begin a new career "at the bottom of the top." That switch to the country music mecca in Nashville led to Billy Bob landing a prestigious position playing guitar on the Grand Ole Opry with several Opry stars. He worked with Porter Wagoner, Stonewall Jackson and Jean Shepherd at the Opry, just to mention a few. After 13 years (1986-1999) in The Grand Ole Opry family, my childhood friend came back home to West Columbia. And we in the West Columbia area are all the better for it. Hearing this man sing and play that electric guitar is definitely memorable. The boy's good! Blunt and to the point. His live shows are spiced with blues, rock and pop, but mostly his versions of the best country music has to offer.</div>
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<div>Bill Middleton has released two CD's that are both worth giving a listen to. His CD "The Crossroad" is primarily inspirational Christian music, many of the selections written by Bill himself. His other CD is country which is a musical genre Bill truly excels in. I highly recommend anyone who loves music to experience Bill Middleton, both on his CD's and when he and his band are performing live in the West Columbia area.</div>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CB2kXx1DWrrppKRatvZcTNKu0tH8DZNDcY__4hwJS0mIVrxxIUKDWUNZyVXBXWobIEZAXNPZavnK6OQ5m9oDLQ0hhHzSGh12m5JPgmhZphgOCNfI3o_t8noVK99s378gKiy656p_ACLW/s1600-h/Billy+Bob.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 272px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380624870830136610" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CB2kXx1DWrrppKRatvZcTNKu0tH8DZNDcY__4hwJS0mIVrxxIUKDWUNZyVXBXWobIEZAXNPZavnK6OQ5m9oDLQ0hhHzSGh12m5JPgmhZphgOCNfI3o_t8noVK99s378gKiy656p_ACLW/s400/Billy+Bob.jpg" /></a>
<div>Kirby Gupton, the son of my father's youngest brother S.D. Gupton, has been a part of the Austin music scene since the 1960s when he was a student at the University of Texas. While cousin Kirby stresses to me that he is not peddling his CD's, it is my personal opinion that his recorded music is worthy of a listen. To put it bluntly, I love Kirby's sound. His musicianship is definitely first rate. He excels on the guitar and saxophone himself, and Kirby has employed some very talented Austin musicians to accompany him on the two CD's he recorded earlier this decade.</div>
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<div>Kirby Gupton is "pure country" on the majority of the tunes he has recorded, with a little soul ("Brand New Me") and old-time rock and roll ("I'm A Fool To Care") thrown in as well. His vocal strengths are in his ability to mimic country greats like Ray Price, Waylon Jennings and another impressive sound that I'm unable to pinpoint who it reminds me the most of. Hey, now it comes to me after all. He sounds just like Kirby Gupton! And there's nothing wrong with that when a native West Columbian who may be a little vertically challenged in height possesses such "kick ass," powerful pipes.</div>
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<div>My cousin, a 1963 graduate of Columbia High School, mailed me copies of his CD's (both co-produced by Kirby and Fred Scott) in the summers of 2003 and 2005. Other family members who received the same CD's are as lucky as I consider myself. Lucky to have such a talented, gifted musician in our family tree, as well as for enjoying the pleasure of listening to the variety of songs Kirby has selected to record. The 2003 CD features Kirby's versions of three Waylon Jennings tunes ("Just To Satisfy You," "Walk Out Of My Mind" and "You'll Look For Me"), a couple of Merle Haggard songs ("If I'd Left It Up To You" and "The Bottle Let Me Down"), and first rate versions of Willie Nelson's "It's Not Supposed To Be That Way," Jessie Colter's "Storms Never Last" and Billy Joe Shaver's "Old Five And Dimers."</div>
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<div>Highlights of the 2005 CD Kirby Gupton recorded at FRS Studio in Austin are the great Tom Jans penned song "Loving Arms" that was previously recorded by Elvis Presley, Dobie Gray and Jans himself and done equally as well by my cousin Kirby, and a couple Gordon Lightfoot songs ("Same Old Lover Man" and "Somewhere USA"). Kirby's cover of Willie Nelson's "I Never Cared For You" and Merle Haggard's "Our Paths May Never Cross" are worth the price of the 2005 CD alone. He really does a bang-up, superb job with Willie, Waylon and Merle's songs.</div>
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<div>Cousin Kirby insists that he does not sell his CD's. So those of us who have received the two CD's from Kirby are the beneficiaries of this longtime Austin resident's gift and musical talent. Kirby told me that he would gladly burn copies of his CD's from his master tapes if any friends or family members request them. Email me at <a href="mailto:tracyg@embarqmail.com">tracyg@embarqmail.com</a> or drop me a line at P.O. Box 361 in West Columbia, Texas, 77486, and I will forward your requests for the Kirby Gupton CD's to my cousin in Austin.</div>
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<div>To purchase Reece Cadenhead's CD "Sleepwalk Back To Texas," go to his website at <a href="http://www.reececadenhead.com/">http://www.reececadenhead.com/</a> and do so. I got my copy of the new Zack Walther And The Cronkites CD "Ambition" at the record store in Greune. But you can purchase it, as well as other CD's of the New Braunfels band, on the internet at <a href="http://www.zwcmusic.com/">http://www.zwcmusic.com/</a>. Bill Middleton's CD's can be purchased at his guitar shop at 1118 North Brooks Street in Brazoria, Texas, or on the internet at <a href="http://www.billsguitarshop.com/">http://www.billsguitarshop.com/</a>. I hope each of you enjoys the excellent music these West Columbia area recording artists have put on CD's as much as I have. </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBB5CVkmqNSIbDsXxAdIiX7XYbP-otSIoaURiH1uhyphenhyphenoomnv8D1TBRiHunzCnv9QCaRoQJI0VbbuZzPQ-QyI5Lh5DORaj5qBn0HSdkXW6BoIwDB-H4mlG2080YRXifjtabV6NvMWJwH8CC/s1600-h/Jammin'+Zack.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380613609716499154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuBB5CVkmqNSIbDsXxAdIiX7XYbP-otSIoaURiH1uhyphenhyphenoomnv8D1TBRiHunzCnv9QCaRoQJI0VbbuZzPQ-QyI5Lh5DORaj5qBn0HSdkXW6BoIwDB-H4mlG2080YRXifjtabV6NvMWJwH8CC/s400/Jammin'+Zack.jpg" /></a>
<div>Zack Walther of West Columbia is finding success in the music business. The Columbia High School graduate, shown jamming on stage above, is the lead singer for Zack Walther And The Cronkites, a band based in New Braunfels.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZEY84cCnh2O945D_nPFnwOfCm0_XgpIA-HJVAuib-Wu6CY6uvZ_RSqA-Jcc7O_NXq0fhCrmT0_CkVTm7YhqTBE8LPqe02oTlUGj0ss4gc4rNm1GWCzDYtbu8KWFjE0sbrrVOpVZVbNz_/s1600-h/RC's+CD+Cover.gif"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 205px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380612733301722658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjkZEY84cCnh2O945D_nPFnwOfCm0_XgpIA-HJVAuib-Wu6CY6uvZ_RSqA-Jcc7O_NXq0fhCrmT0_CkVTm7YhqTBE8LPqe02oTlUGj0ss4gc4rNm1GWCzDYtbu8KWFjE0sbrrVOpVZVbNz_/s400/RC's+CD+Cover.gif" /></a>
<div>Angleton High School graduate Reece Cadenhead has recorded an excellent first CD entitled "Sleepwalk Back To Texas" recorded and produced by Jason Rooks. Reece is currently attending college at Texas A&M University in College Station.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi69BFHo-vUoDOB7y3lmgK41sLheNh7h-SH8UjFT3hSyOrWJ_1CYRFjhOTZlFUrIeKucfeeMYoeeqfDb26-HWDKol11M-4CXdBoiGxEJ-E98aKdK7YAMrrQu6Z_FTxdfGPA91dX2Oi2CtSu/s1600-h/Bill+and+Trace.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380611345405016658" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi69BFHo-vUoDOB7y3lmgK41sLheNh7h-SH8UjFT3hSyOrWJ_1CYRFjhOTZlFUrIeKucfeeMYoeeqfDb26-HWDKol11M-4CXdBoiGxEJ-E98aKdK7YAMrrQu6Z_FTxdfGPA91dX2Oi2CtSu/s400/Bill+and+Trace.jpg" /></a>
<div>Nationally known country music artist Trace Adkins, pictured above with West Columbia native Bill Middleton, spent hours signing autographs and talking to his fans at the grand opening of Bill's Guitar Shop in Brazoria.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj88FILA5QRzD-gHLDAQeiAb5RGhyY_eIOW1oXPfbROXLEdbGS7ItUB-TyTdNua86A0Bol1y9ZZCbjMVE8ReEz19tGBJKKKoHZXJdnDT8F1-sgsowI-mDt8HMDU_5FwFTshodWYyHtyvSO-/s1600-h/Cronkites+Ad.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 258px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5380610062075469314" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj88FILA5QRzD-gHLDAQeiAb5RGhyY_eIOW1oXPfbROXLEdbGS7ItUB-TyTdNua86A0Bol1y9ZZCbjMVE8ReEz19tGBJKKKoHZXJdnDT8F1-sgsowI-mDt8HMDU_5FwFTshodWYyHtyvSO-/s400/Cronkites+Ad.jpg" /></a>
<div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-56246351862398246762009-09-10T16:04:00.004-05:002009-09-10T16:58:00.893-05:00Are You Ready For Some Football?<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbMAYLrfJF9a5K6rl2Uy1ebcvw1Sdz7xe6CTZynl5AZc_V1fjsdGAc7XvdkzBUfPg24s1vbHhK26Xu2LVETkGbCrEsKrf43oBQGha2SPaFVZISFkTYg-GtvK83NoHjd5E2s3Yv19kCYA2b/s1600-h/Mannings.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 268px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379961339853306978" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbMAYLrfJF9a5K6rl2Uy1ebcvw1Sdz7xe6CTZynl5AZc_V1fjsdGAc7XvdkzBUfPg24s1vbHhK26Xu2LVETkGbCrEsKrf43oBQGha2SPaFVZISFkTYg-GtvK83NoHjd5E2s3Yv19kCYA2b/s400/Mannings.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQiM1Mdoy_WmMDUh-OOv6TF8e3gO346aWTb45s3jGTFR3wiQj_JvmkhyphenhyphenK08uSkigpDI6p7fXGdJcI7cBGBD8xkiujGt-awH7MTKg2DT1SAOna3AZeiuj6tRQM9gRC2-UNlLZwBRbWLpyY/s1600-h/J.L.+Higgins+Jr..jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 236px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 249px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379953235710991554" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZQiM1Mdoy_WmMDUh-OOv6TF8e3gO346aWTb45s3jGTFR3wiQj_JvmkhyphenhyphenK08uSkigpDI6p7fXGdJcI7cBGBD8xkiujGt-awH7MTKg2DT1SAOna3AZeiuj6tRQM9gRC2-UNlLZwBRbWLpyY/s400/J.L.+Higgins+Jr..jpg" /></a> </div>
<div>In response to Hank Jr.'s catchy tune that has become as closely associated with NFL football on TV as anything in recent years, yes, definitely, I am ready for some football! Tonight the National Football League kicks off the 2009 pro season with the reigning Super Bowl champions, the Pittsburgh Steelers, hosting my second favorite NFL team, the Tennessee Titans on NBC-TV. It has been what seems like a very, very long time since the Steelers defeated the Arizona Cardinals in the Super Bowl in early '09.</div>
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<div>The NFL ain't what it used to be, at least as far as this longtime pro football fan sees it. I still watch the pro games on TV every chance I get, because I am truly a big football fan, but there just isn't that same ol' zeal for following the NFL from week to week like I once was addicted to. But, despite saying that, I still find myself getting a little hyped up when a new football season arrives each and every year. Unfortunately I will not be able to view tonight's NFL season opener on TV due to my work schedule. But that same rotating shift schedule that I have been a slave to for the past 20 years, working a set of daylights followed by a set of nights and then back to another set of daylights, provides me the opportunity to be off this coming weekend when there will be a full slate of football games (high school on Friday night, college games on Saturday, followed by the opening Sunday of the '09 NFL season) for me to enjoy.</div>
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<div>I have already attended my first high school football game for '09. After missing my hometown team's season opener when an electric lightning display and rainstorm shortened the Roughnecks game against their intracounty rival, the Brazosport Exporters, because I was spending the night at the area petroleum refinery working the night shift, I had the luxury of being off this past Friday night. My Roughnecks, despite losing 36-22 to the St. Pius Panthers at Griggs Field in West Columbia, played exciting football and entertained the home crowd for the second consecutive Friday night. Columbia was leading Brazosport 17-14 when the season opener at Griggs Field was called off by the referees and coaches with about six minutes remaining in the third quarter due to a threat of lightning striking too close to the West Columbia football field. And this past Friday the thunder and lightning the Roughnecks were unable to deal with came in the human form of St. Pius's strong-armed, quick and elusive quarterback who led a Panthers' offensive attack that moved the ball up and down the field much too easily. If my hometown high school football team has any plans of competing for a playoff spot in their AAA district this season, adjustments will have to be made in their defensive strategy and improvements realized in the offensive scheme before such hopes can be turned into an actual postseason berth. </div>
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<div>The Sweeny Bulldogs, who produced current Oakland Raiders wide receiver Johnnie Lee Higgins Jr. (pictured above), appear to be the cream of the crop in West Columbia's district in 2009. The Dogs will host the same Brazosport team this Friday night that the Roughnecks opened the year against two weeks ago. Both of those teams are 1-0 after the Bulldogs stomped Van Vleck in the season opener and the Shippers dominated Port Lavaca Calhoun last Friday night at Hopper Field in Freeport, a week after having their opener with the Roughnecks erased from the record books due to the lightning storm. Columbia travels to Alvin tomorrow night to line up against Manvel at the stadium the new high school in Manvel shares with the Yellowjackets of
Alvin. I will be at one of those two high school games, depending on the weather Friday night. If it rains I will more than likely attend the Sweeny-Brazosport showdown about 10 miles from my home. Clear skies will find me and my wife taking the longer route to Alvin.</div>
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<div>Keeping me interested in what happens in pro football from year to year are great players like LaDainian Tomlinson of the Chargers, Brett Favre and Adrian Peterson of the Vikings, Andre Johnson and Mario Williams of my Houston Texans, and my wife Peggy's favorite NFL players, the Manning brothers (pictured above). Peyton Manning's Indianapolis Colts will be playing under a new head coach following the retirement of their longtime mentor Tony Dungy, while younger brother Eli Manning and the New York Giants return for another season with hopes of fending off the annual challenge for division supremacy from the Dallas Cowboys, Washington Redskins and Philadelphia Eagles, who will feature Michael Vick as Donovan McNabb's key backup in '09. So the coming pro season should be just as interesting, with many tight division races throughout the year, as the battles being fought in college and high school stadiums across the nation from week to week. Man am I ever ready for it!</div>
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<div>The college football season is already underway, with most college teams preparing for the second week of their 2009 seasons this weekend. My intentions are to attend at least one home game this season of my college alma mater, the Sam Houston State Bearkats, and hopefully make it to one or two games Texas A&M and the University of Houston play in 2009. </div>
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<div>September 26th is circled in bright red marker on my personal calendar in my home office. That is the day former Columbia Roughnecks standout Jared Flannel and his Texas Tech Red Raiders travel to Houston to take on my son Brian's Cougars at Robertson Stadium. I have one son (Bret) going to college at Texas A&M so I have to pull for his Aggies every chance I get; and another son (Brian) attending classes at the University of Houston so I will proudly wear my Cougars red when following the Cougs. But the ol' home cooking theory puts me in Jared Flannel's corner and rooting for the Red Raiders whenever Texas Tech is not going head to head with my kids' Cougars and Aggies. And my Dad's little brother, Hank Gupton, graduated from Baylor University so I always cheer for the Baylor Bears when I get the chance. Cousin Dolores Gupton is an SMU grad and her younger sister Peggy Lou and her husband Kenneth Boone both graduated from TCU.</div>
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<div>But when it comes down to the nitty gritty, ol' Tracy Bob just simply loves FOOTBALL!!! High school, college, pro, whatever, I love to watch football games . . . in person, on my new high definition color TV or (when lucky) on my cousins Jack and Angie's or Hank and Lynette's big screen sets in Cove or Anahuac. Even if it's at the corner bar or listening on my truck radio, if there is a football game being played somewhere nearby there is a good bet I will be tuned in or sitting my fat ass on my worn out Columbia Roughnecks cushion and watching.</div>
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<div>My son Kirk is coaching youth football this season. So on the Saturdays that I am not working I will be in the stands, cheering on Koy and Koby Richardson (my future grandsons following Kirk's November wedding to their mother Tanya) when these little 9 and 10 year olds get down and dirty in the trenches for the Tri-City Cougars. So, hell yea, I'm ready for some football. Bring it on! </div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsVR2e_cI1fxEqcjKX3S0m0f6WiESZLP8oaPJumKFZyZUTXcYgc0tioE67fxt48AN4LZ0beGRVbaCBXEtEhyphenhyphenZ3uEik-8qBCm0LWx5ugb3zMkItCB9v2p9qPWUNxBZIbal_oU_q9WbxgKy/s1600-h/LaDainian-Tomlinson.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 324px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379948607959752626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhbsVR2e_cI1fxEqcjKX3S0m0f6WiESZLP8oaPJumKFZyZUTXcYgc0tioE67fxt48AN4LZ0beGRVbaCBXEtEhyphenhyphenZ3uEik-8qBCm0LWx5ugb3zMkItCB9v2p9qPWUNxBZIbal_oU_q9WbxgKy/s400/LaDainian-Tomlinson.jpg" /></a>
<div>Former TCU Horned Frogs running back LaDainian Tomlinson of the San Diego Chargers is among my favorite current NFL players. Those pro players with Texas roots remain atop my personal list of "must see" gridiron heroes when I watch NFL games on TV.</div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-72596092630453497652009-09-09T15:03:00.005-05:002009-09-09T16:46:41.221-05:00Tough Times Fail To Dampen Nation's Generosity<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymCeQoZ_erlQrf7t8GZ17G20U9c-Mykn7KDvjRF4ixiADb4v48V3_sm81NOtZvEF3VAUna_oi0FRUKXvUIfVdELlu1CgfzCfAkrn-4m2zNhyphenhyphenemRo5eo5E4jHG-180bamhWzsAXwNcgdvt/s1600-h/Jerry's+Kids.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 277px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379587318435325698" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiymCeQoZ_erlQrf7t8GZ17G20U9c-Mykn7KDvjRF4ixiADb4v48V3_sm81NOtZvEF3VAUna_oi0FRUKXvUIfVdELlu1CgfzCfAkrn-4m2zNhyphenhyphenemRo5eo5E4jHG-180bamhWzsAXwNcgdvt/s400/Jerry's+Kids.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0NamX0c-iudvojSyCrTItlgpwCVH2us7oc11pgn2cO1WubcsxvMfuJtgA7r8r1yq37Gr3Hqtqe6hB287jnCwfsPUsGq_JaOgugjR-0o9VNGOnh7ODGyciI9-BVsifRmuWMj75BQDO6Pn/s1600-h/Jerry+Lewis.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 230px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379587176857318594" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh0NamX0c-iudvojSyCrTItlgpwCVH2us7oc11pgn2cO1WubcsxvMfuJtgA7r8r1yq37Gr3Hqtqe6hB287jnCwfsPUsGq_JaOgugjR-0o9VNGOnh7ODGyciI9-BVsifRmuWMj75BQDO6Pn/s400/Jerry+Lewis.jpg" /></a>
<div>As a child growing up in West Columbia my favorite entertainment venue was the Capitol Theater downtown. And my favorite movies from my earliest visits to the "picture show," as we always called it back then, starred "The Big Three" in my book: John Wayne, Elvis Presley and Jerry Lewis. Anytime a new film one of those 1960s Hollywood Heroes put out was being shown at the Capitol Theater, it was a good bet that my tiny ass was going to be sitting in the dark watching it . . . popcorn, pickle, Milk Duds and ice cold Coca-Cola in hand.</div>
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<div>I caught about an hour or so of the 44th annual Jerry Lewis Muscular Dystrophy Association Telethon this past Labor Day, and was watching the early hours of the 21 and a half hour broadcast on Houston's Channel 2 Sunday night when the show suddenly went off the air. I was disgusted to discover that the local NBC affiliate that had aired Jerry Lewis's telethon in its entirety in years past was not going to do so in 2009. Bill Balleza of Channel 2 informed the viewers, including yours truly, that KPRC-TV would be picking the telethon back up at 8 a.m. on Monday morning. I switched through the other gazillion channels on my DirecTV satellite dish to see if the MDA telethon was airing throughout the night on a different channel, but it was nowhere to be found.</div>
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<div>Despite the cutting back of the annual fundraiser's TV air time in the Houston market, Jerry Lewis still proudly announced at the 2009 telethon's conclusion Monday evening that nearly $60.5 million was raised across the nation to continue funding worldwide research to find treatments and cures for muscular dystrophy and related diseases. Lewis said the total was down from last year's record $65 million but added it was an amazing accomplishment considering the state of the nation's economy.</div>
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<div>I shed my usual tears sitting in front of my TV set, as numerous feature stories and guests appearing from both the Houston studio and with Jerry Lewis and his many cohosts in Las Vegas touched the softest parts of my heart. Little Abbey Umali, the MDA's current National Goodwill Ambassador, is pictured in her wheelchair with Jerry in the photo above. She and many other people of all ages--but primarily the children afflicted with this horrible disease--who have to live with Muscular Dystrophy are the reasons so many of us dig deep into our pockets to help Lewis and the MDA hopefully one day bring an end to the crippling of so many humans. To think that Jerry Lewis started his annual telethons 44 years ago is really mind boggling, and when you add to the equation the many health issues the telethon's host has had to endure himself in recent years it becomes even more stunning that the octogenarian comedian is able to live out the old entertainment world motto: "The show must go on!"</div>
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<div>Lewis, who told the Las Vegas crowd Sunday night that he will be 84 in March of 2010, had to do the telethon for the first time since 1973 without his sidekick Ed McMahon. Johnny Carson's longtime announcer and best bud, who had served as Jerry Lewis's MDA telethon announcer for 35 years, died in June. I made a point to tune in to this year's telethon this past Sunday night to see my childhood comedic hero for what possibly could be the last time.</div>
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<div>Jerry disclosed several years ago that he is dying from Pulmonary Fibrosis, a disease that suffocates its victims by scarring the lungs. The disease is irreversible, untreatable, and invariably fatal, according to wire reports I read during the week leading up to this year's Labor Day telethon. Most patients suffering from PF die within three years of diagnosis, the wire reports indicate, which is why thousands of PF sufferers tuned in Sunday night looking to Lewis for clues to his survival for so many years with the disease. </div>
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<div>Jerry Lewis has spoken many times publicly about his disease but has not yet spoken out on behalf of the cause that has stricken him so personally. Pulmonary Fibrosis claimed the lives of actor/singer Robert Goulet and Odetta in recent years, as well as being the primary cause of the death of my favorite actor of all time, Marlon Brando, who died several years ago at the age of 80. Pumonary Fibrosis claims the lives of approximately 128,000 Americans annually.</div>
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<div>Lewis has suffered two heart attacks--a serious one in 1982 that led to Jerry being forced to kick his cigarette habit and a minor heart attack in 2006--and has been forced to deal with prostate cancer, diabetes and extreme back pain. But he has never missed hosting his annual Labor Day telethon over the past 44 years.</div>
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<div>Born Joseph Levitch in Newark, New Jersey, on March 16, 1926, the comedian who took the stage name Jerry Lewis and later vaulted to stardom on stage, TV and films when he teamed up with Dean Martin in the 1940s remains today an entertainment industry icon. Among the many comedies he starred in (usually writing, producing and directing his films as well) that I loved so much as a child were "The Nutty Professor," "Cinderfella," "The Patsy," "Don't Raise The Bridge, Lower The River" and "The Big Mouth." I never missed a Jerry Lewis movie at The Capitol Theater when I was a kid. So many of my childhood movie heroes have gone to that great big screening room in the sky, so Jerry's importance is amplified in my viewpoint even more because he is one of the few Hollywood stars from the 1960s still working.</div>
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<div>I was thrilled to learn late last year that Jerry was going to be honored at the 2009 Oscars telecast. Who could possibly be more deserving. Forty-four years of hosting his annual telethon to raise much needed funding in the fight to defeat Muscular Dystrophy, combined with seven decades of entertaining the world with his slapstick antics and, as the French and T. Gup truly believe, his comedic genius, earned him the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award at the February 22, 2009, presentation of the Oscars in Los Angeles.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96AjbCcEAcgNUbPoD-AkOg4s3tuM64eQ0Gx645qRZgLsJod2eEF5nXxO96-O20VHFZlR74gvbgOZgCT5NKyyCjDXFwou8WnMmUYoEbnOgjeNJP6Mu5ipd4bslVvVC3uxBVT5v9Yj1j4ix/s1600-h/Jerry+Lewis.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5379564935260333010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi96AjbCcEAcgNUbPoD-AkOg4s3tuM64eQ0Gx645qRZgLsJod2eEF5nXxO96-O20VHFZlR74gvbgOZgCT5NKyyCjDXFwou8WnMmUYoEbnOgjeNJP6Mu5ipd4bslVvVC3uxBVT5v9Yj1j4ix/s400/Jerry+Lewis.jpg" /></a>
<div>Jerry Lewis received an honorary Oscar at the February 22, 2009, Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences' telecast. The "King of Comedy" was the most recent recipient of the Jean Hersholt Humanitarian Award in honor of his more than 40 years raising money for the Muscular Dystrophy Association.</div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-69963157928743422252009-09-05T19:36:00.022-05:002009-10-09T13:04:23.496-05:00Jack Weems Celebrates 91st Birthday!<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTok9vn1CCl8ss96HJtC-KCCHLjdoTjy5mdzxBxN_KBn7sLhadul6_HrMrbd4awNQAc3Mw-gmFau-n0LYq-zM2Bl43Tv0GkENI8etpJEoq0UBd_1ai_kThgdSzoOupLd575GODuEQ6HOr/s1600-h/Steve+%26+Parents.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378164612252819394" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhOTok9vn1CCl8ss96HJtC-KCCHLjdoTjy5mdzxBxN_KBn7sLhadul6_HrMrbd4awNQAc3Mw-gmFau-n0LYq-zM2Bl43Tv0GkENI8etpJEoq0UBd_1ai_kThgdSzoOupLd575GODuEQ6HOr/s400/Steve+%26+Parents.jpg" /></a>
<div>Today is the 91st birthday of one of my favorite people, Jack Pershing Weems, the husband of my father's cousin Phyllis and the father of my cousin and best friend, Steve Weems. Jack, who grew up in Rockdale, Texas, is truly a family treasure. Phyllis's father, Phil Gupton, was the younger brother of my grandfather, S.M. "Buff" Gupton. Phil and Margaret Gupton lived next door to Buff and Eula Gupton at the end of Gupton Lane in West Columbia for the entirety of their married lives. And now my wife Peggy and I have inherited my grandparents' property and Steve and his wife Rhonda have inherited the adjoining property once owned by his grandfather. Together, Steve and I carry on that "Family Tradition" as neighbors, along with our individual extended families.</div>
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<div>Many members of our extended families, as well as many close friends of Jack and Phyllis Weems, gathered at Steve and Rhonda's home this time last year to help Jack celebrate his 90th birthday. I had my camera with me at Jack's party and snapped lots of photos. In today's edition of my blog "The World According To Gup," in honor of my cousin Jack's 91st birthday, I share several of those pictures taken at last year's party. In the photo below the birthday boy addresses the crowd prior to opening his presents while his wife Phyllis, left, and his daughter Jackie Weems Jenkins, right, look on. And in the top photo my buddy Steve and his mother Phyllis listen intently as Jack displays his sharp mind and keen sense of humor, entertaining the family gathering with one of his humorous tales or jokes. I tip my hat to cousin Jack on his special day and thank him for making me laugh for half a century, taking me on numerous trips with his family when I was a kid, being an excellent role model as a husband, father, grandfather and man, but primarily for always making me feel like I was important in his life. "Important" cannot adequately describe what Jack Weems and his wife Phyllis have meant to me over the past 50 years. You, Jack, are the greatest! I love you.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipO5dYX_U2QeUrETsLWte-XXsu4CVuDtj4zN72W5W4aAfq1BRP7iKESSmlaIVz0oPeAiCNx1s_Wc0EmiF4jUAM7JjWOx5qfK6S-gT0-7w2bC2bgSvRdaJXGFKrSl6-Is9wkM0XDHp_gTIA/s1600-h/Phyllis+%26+Jack.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378159015265715458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipO5dYX_U2QeUrETsLWte-XXsu4CVuDtj4zN72W5W4aAfq1BRP7iKESSmlaIVz0oPeAiCNx1s_Wc0EmiF4jUAM7JjWOx5qfK6S-gT0-7w2bC2bgSvRdaJXGFKrSl6-Is9wkM0XDHp_gTIA/s400/Phyllis+%26+Jack.jpg" /></a>
<div>Posing for a family portrait below are Margurite Gupton and two of her three sons, Ronnie Gupton, left, and Tommy Gupton. The Gupton family members were in attendance last September at the 90th birthday party for Jack Weems, the husband of Margurite's late husband's sister Phyllis Gupton Weems. Children of Phyllis's two deceased brothers, G.R. "Footsie" Gupton and Dr. J.W. Gupton, attended the party at the former home of Phyllis, Footsie and J.W.'s parents, Phil and Margaret Gupton, in West Columbia to honor their Uncle Jack.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehw-f5HYmFTbV3VbFg27LzS3bryWywBmQLESo3QouoGvS6HbZI9z0vpNcZvGEYC3Zilc44dolqAYFPrItb6GfgJEWezsWu71KLVhI6ekWSU1f2bRc-P95kAxfWWBQqkWnCSIVZTUyY2sf/s1600-h/Ron,+Tom,+Mom.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 275px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378157342935073810" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhehw-f5HYmFTbV3VbFg27LzS3bryWywBmQLESo3QouoGvS6HbZI9z0vpNcZvGEYC3Zilc44dolqAYFPrItb6GfgJEWezsWu71KLVhI6ekWSU1f2bRc-P95kAxfWWBQqkWnCSIVZTUyY2sf/s400/Ron,+Tom,+Mom.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYloXpV39asAF8Y1PGEwtIBNkILP72kSMIbZWqoWhWX3FkKvH-r-YoldxEokmgIH4fpSxs7k95RqEfk_d5dAuYwFVfIAzuloSU-whF-3uWWD9oyWRlyvo7JMMsWGaX_M8s9kKlLtEpG8u/s1600-h/Jack+%26+child.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378157144362431650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhZYloXpV39asAF8Y1PGEwtIBNkILP72kSMIbZWqoWhWX3FkKvH-r-YoldxEokmgIH4fpSxs7k95RqEfk_d5dAuYwFVfIAzuloSU-whF-3uWWD9oyWRlyvo7JMMsWGaX_M8s9kKlLtEpG8u/s400/Jack+%26+child.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6NMnJglK9FO-TKhV7RPqT_JZLNTItQeHolC4fIkRdPJd_5HS8Zy49Wn6mLjYR0Bd6c8xOo2G6FDmAxhIBGehY_GT0uYBWVlp-Im0nE2uZAKa1S2Qm-sYoQmFKX6Ag9wVMQxlU3Wwtren/s1600-h/Jack's+card.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 218px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378156771475408210" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM6NMnJglK9FO-TKhV7RPqT_JZLNTItQeHolC4fIkRdPJd_5HS8Zy49Wn6mLjYR0Bd6c8xOo2G6FDmAxhIBGehY_GT0uYBWVlp-Im0nE2uZAKa1S2Qm-sYoQmFKX6Ag9wVMQxlU3Wwtren/s320/Jack's+card.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70jCBcbkKjtLOWWemhFbwcsnbF3mJH0tvBSjqXgoZTg38YOmtkTnA_Y-H5OrOeXjWmyI0JJUvJEY3XfXGRAiCOEIzmWEnKVtct_QK3ixqUy2BcaAsuQVvUt8YAHLEd94blZmgAHvzkNLq/s1600-h/S.K.+Weems.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 216px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378156594502935602" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi70jCBcbkKjtLOWWemhFbwcsnbF3mJH0tvBSjqXgoZTg38YOmtkTnA_Y-H5OrOeXjWmyI0JJUvJEY3XfXGRAiCOEIzmWEnKVtct_QK3ixqUy2BcaAsuQVvUt8YAHLEd94blZmgAHvzkNLq/s320/S.K.+Weems.jpg" /></a>
<div>Steve Weems, left, and his wife Rhonda hosted the 90th birthday get together for Steve's father Jack last September at their beautiful West Columbia home. Jack, who celebrates his 91st birthday today (September 5, 2009), looks over one of the many birthday cards he received at his party in the photo at right.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhEa20Zbra60w-UQGrnauxJxGdWq7_xVb5JroNNDy5NiyE4r1rdDC0l-LDlemjqpWChepwtkPwqFpV42sKZdQoQyACZ-p6EGsysrlRnluR1qprs04-DBTSUMQkdEypjAN69qXh2tpVcfo/s1600-h/Tom+%26+Cody.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 250px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378155608179564466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhXhEa20Zbra60w-UQGrnauxJxGdWq7_xVb5JroNNDy5NiyE4r1rdDC0l-LDlemjqpWChepwtkPwqFpV42sKZdQoQyACZ-p6EGsysrlRnluR1qprs04-DBTSUMQkdEypjAN69qXh2tpVcfo/s400/Tom+%26+Cody.jpg" /></a>
<div>Talking over old times at the 2008 birthday party for Jack Weems are, in the photo above, cousins Tom Gupton, left, and Cody Gupton. Tom is the eldest son of Phyllis Weems' younger brother Dr. John W. Gupton while Cody is the eldest son of Phyllis's first cousin Rex Gupton.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwflPcdpmHKNNAnUtocvxF6zmmIs97QcpeHUJGkIzAgYQxM7q1qSnQt-2EKYXFlociWQXyfI8X_0zcUuCn7JTZsdkxx0PJhi-QxFkZuN_THgYKcdKJsvcQg-x8c4bC_x0y9F9QpRVKDw-L/s1600-h/Frances+%26+Grandchild.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378154663517615794" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiwflPcdpmHKNNAnUtocvxF6zmmIs97QcpeHUJGkIzAgYQxM7q1qSnQt-2EKYXFlociWQXyfI8X_0zcUuCn7JTZsdkxx0PJhi-QxFkZuN_THgYKcdKJsvcQg-x8c4bC_x0y9F9QpRVKDw-L/s400/Frances+%26+Grandchild.jpg" /></a>
<div>In the photo above one of Jack and Phyllis Weems' great-grandchildren is pictured with his grandmother, Jack and Phyllis's daughter, Frances "Chug" King and her husband, Jack King. And in the photo below Jack Weems is pictured with his grandson, Stephen Hill, the eldest son of Mary and Clay Hill. Stephen was the ring bearer in my wedding in 1980 when he was a little boy. Steve Weems was my best man.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCsgYGK1gOd5WFsjAvMTEfQTDGx6UhFZxtV85lz3jQZxAb66-oMdY-lZuzBVU-wq7bZbo0L_YXEq-TTFIGYjIgKKuWBtCz7w6THLP7jAYakkrfGB3zp7L7OCycQ9m4n5TG-fRYBG3ZzZ3/s1600-h/Stephen+%26+Jack.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378153207665290434" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjgCsgYGK1gOd5WFsjAvMTEfQTDGx6UhFZxtV85lz3jQZxAb66-oMdY-lZuzBVU-wq7bZbo0L_YXEq-TTFIGYjIgKKuWBtCz7w6THLP7jAYakkrfGB3zp7L7OCycQ9m4n5TG-fRYBG3ZzZ3/s400/Stephen+%26+Jack.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgkVB-nhwi_2riyoD3wr_0M7kIS9czgaQgFAAP03RTV3wiXASasjn-Yn7xv51agxAN4p48T777jeO2VcDZLiLYeUjMEEbWUGlN6AoxEZZj6WNjcT4H4DITyAwDGa9kgKQI3y9bCdIaDNv/s1600-h/Megan+%26+child.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 216px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378152997254624898" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjBgkVB-nhwi_2riyoD3wr_0M7kIS9czgaQgFAAP03RTV3wiXASasjn-Yn7xv51agxAN4p48T777jeO2VcDZLiLYeUjMEEbWUGlN6AoxEZZj6WNjcT4H4DITyAwDGa9kgKQI3y9bCdIaDNv/s320/Megan+%26+child.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcX2gVf3idXcpZnMtkEMxbjemAWFPdoHw3MukZZ8T1o0LRpQ3QwcUN5V3uL4jEhsy2rwH1RFdhGWXo3jffGHg66qQL671ravxvFgm6oAYAfOmvo34R-92VmMf2hZRYR408HF6ivD64ypXw/s1600-h/Logan+Hill.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 216px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378152814538432018" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcX2gVf3idXcpZnMtkEMxbjemAWFPdoHw3MukZZ8T1o0LRpQ3QwcUN5V3uL4jEhsy2rwH1RFdhGWXo3jffGHg66qQL671ravxvFgm6oAYAfOmvo34R-92VmMf2hZRYR408HF6ivD64ypXw/s320/Logan+Hill.jpg" /></a>
<div>Two of Jack and Phyllis Weems' grandchildren who were in attendance at Jack's 90th birthday party last September were Megan Wallace Savant (pictured with her youngest child at left), the daughter of Margo Weems Wallace and Melvin Wallace, and Logan Hill, right, the son of Mary Weems Hill and Clay Hill.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ERYo5mwKt10QJ8nAoANjI3zU792N3-q2As4aP90fVgQyAs3JWUm-W0MBYu_jE5dzbZ3tgDNenz3HM0N29lzizMeBLVXqRV2utSNvTZU1B_CKlGgyzxwmxoLFZTfBzhNpxcvKe-0_KBqm/s1600-h/Kelli+%26+Rhonda.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 256px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378151705464109826" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi9ERYo5mwKt10QJ8nAoANjI3zU792N3-q2As4aP90fVgQyAs3JWUm-W0MBYu_jE5dzbZ3tgDNenz3HM0N29lzizMeBLVXqRV2utSNvTZU1B_CKlGgyzxwmxoLFZTfBzhNpxcvKe-0_KBqm/s400/Kelli+%26+Rhonda.jpg" /></a>
<div>Kelli Gupton Kuban, left, joins Rhonda Weems on the deck Steve and Rhonda added to the old family home on Gupton Lane where Phil and Margaret Gupton once lived. Kelli and Rhonda, who are cousins and coworkers at city hall in West Columbia, were observing the large family gathering held in September 2008 in honor of Jack Weems' 90th birthday.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9TLd3BtYUvy-1EBZPvpQ-KwQFgWyX4sEYNkNx-GbrWqwamvzWXFD-4RYMcI9ePrpTQchyphenhypheneN-90sCdJOYf1jraJ8VBsi7w9cYZud1SkvuLIB7ye2GXEufHKqANuW4ZYREjTcMHczSRje4r/s1600-h/Kathleen+%26+Sug.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 254px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378150658177666930" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9TLd3BtYUvy-1EBZPvpQ-KwQFgWyX4sEYNkNx-GbrWqwamvzWXFD-4RYMcI9ePrpTQchyphenhypheneN-90sCdJOYf1jraJ8VBsi7w9cYZud1SkvuLIB7ye2GXEufHKqANuW4ZYREjTcMHczSRje4r/s400/Kathleen+%26+Sug.jpg" /></a>
<div>Kathleen Gupton, left, and Jack Weems' daughter Frances "Chug" King enjoy each other's company at the September 2008 birthday party when Chug's father Jack Weems turned 90. Kathleen is the wife of Chug's first cousin Tommy Gupton.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Qb9h4DMpqZl7LY709_LqetxAvb-OUPZdCKYSGtHHlN2TZwJ5Q7Ni2cFRA_pHwwV3FQWxNEfsI4TJn3S1h12s9QjdOC1kkmHuRBgOQDoOjv3iK8OEpxYtFVyAQ3c7mvzEpf8S506Gj_53/s1600-h/Cody+%26+B.R..jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 253px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5378149589982101666" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh4Qb9h4DMpqZl7LY709_LqetxAvb-OUPZdCKYSGtHHlN2TZwJ5Q7Ni2cFRA_pHwwV3FQWxNEfsI4TJn3S1h12s9QjdOC1kkmHuRBgOQDoOjv3iK8OEpxYtFVyAQ3c7mvzEpf8S506Gj_53/s400/Cody+%26+B.R..jpg" /></a>
<div>In the photo above a couple of Gupton cowboys engage in a heated argument over which of them is the baddest outlaw in their family, Cody Gupton on the left and Billy Ralph Gupton on the right. The Gupton cousins gathered in September 2008 at the West Columbia home of Steve and Rhonda Weems to celebrate Steve's father's 90th birthday.</div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1638172559251116244.post-1089980926507214122009-08-30T16:04:00.006-05:002009-08-30T16:31:23.840-05:00Samuel Morris Gupton: 1886 - 1961<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLmCf-mVeyKR5PbVoEKo2rQoWNqV2B3lMu5KjJux6PMi4XW1esY4KtR0OPf0_Y5W4wDc3K933-5PKcDblZE6ki-xo3N_gTn24tqk556nOab-GCrzZeXPZsT4EC00Ibtx5-rRevyAJ9-_Z/s1600-h/Baby+Kelly+Renee.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 397px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375872458316559010" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiJLmCf-mVeyKR5PbVoEKo2rQoWNqV2B3lMu5KjJux6PMi4XW1esY4KtR0OPf0_Y5W4wDc3K933-5PKcDblZE6ki-xo3N_gTn24tqk556nOab-GCrzZeXPZsT4EC00Ibtx5-rRevyAJ9-_Z/s400/Baby+Kelly+Renee.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAJsXTggEeOF99vBV2CSMdJ_v1bGZ6iAW1cdbqgdSuSIK6i7swIxQQwFzDvnawnHZU8XZc3U0XNs-EH5gKCBvhdUpC8Hc07KhVIdUwVlrOP3F-RHrFvJILCf1_F47_jFecVpgib4wucJJA/s1600-h/Buff+%26+Cody.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 285px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375872331268239906" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiAJsXTggEeOF99vBV2CSMdJ_v1bGZ6iAW1cdbqgdSuSIK6i7swIxQQwFzDvnawnHZU8XZc3U0XNs-EH5gKCBvhdUpC8Hc07KhVIdUwVlrOP3F-RHrFvJILCf1_F47_jFecVpgib4wucJJA/s400/Buff+%26+Cody.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7nxubkreYk-UtQom7BlV0JFQTEVMwZBiAiXJWtLYW5uM9pae1wcLzGwNTtCd7IvzHv8WmczJ0BxMSZawkK7hYjqwhjzaFc5I8Tmjmnsu2uL_Gz9YTDtfMIxf54C5VU-cRVPnGo8fUYJZ/s1600-h/Granddaddy.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 400px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 362px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375872112106991186" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh7nxubkreYk-UtQom7BlV0JFQTEVMwZBiAiXJWtLYW5uM9pae1wcLzGwNTtCd7IvzHv8WmczJ0BxMSZawkK7hYjqwhjzaFc5I8Tmjmnsu2uL_Gz9YTDtfMIxf54C5VU-cRVPnGo8fUYJZ/s400/Granddaddy.jpg" /></a>
<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTeJLFVdGtOK2NQhifvNcSgntW6Tr0Ld0DfMQ7hX7RV14O2udcD29B3fbgwuf0_YpABXVRnKHNrD_cXP6pnR2b70ro2wz5rfGwEekj85cwYi_sPTyi2n8auV1nTncSRHCjyez1KMJ7sIF/s1600-h/Samuel+Morris+(Buff)+Gupton.jpg"><img style="MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 290px; FLOAT: right; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375871959053160226" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTeJLFVdGtOK2NQhifvNcSgntW6Tr0Ld0DfMQ7hX7RV14O2udcD29B3fbgwuf0_YpABXVRnKHNrD_cXP6pnR2b70ro2wz5rfGwEekj85cwYi_sPTyi2n8auV1nTncSRHCjyez1KMJ7sIF/s400/Samuel+Morris+(Buff)+Gupton.jpg" /></a>
<div>On this day (August 30th) in 1961 my grandfather passed away at the age of 75 in West Columbia, Texas. I was only four years old when "Bussie" lost his battle with emphysema. He was born on February 9, 1886, and had operated a grocery store and meat market in first East Columbia and later in West Columbia. He was also the posmaster of West Columbia for many years but is remembered more by his family for being a wonderful father, grandfather and great-grandfather. In the top photo Samuel Morris "Buff" Gupton is shown near the end of his life with his wife Eula and my sister Kelly Renee Gupton, the youngest of Buff's nine grandchildren. Kelly was born March 22, 1960. He is also pictured holding the reins of a horse being ridden by my older brother Samuel Cody Gupton, who was named after our grandfather, and in another photo standing in his yard in West Columbia. The other photo is of a very young Samuel Morris Gupton. Bussie, you've been a long time gone, yet the memories of the love you displayed for your large family still burn vividly in the hearts of each of us. We loved you and still miss you dearly, our wonderful grandfather.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUexPyIbJa0tyYKwOqeu5C5Osfbi3OlAMoVOnBmtkn2PB6yX5XDT76XxgzER3JKjY92OttK6zq_Xm0jx-AtdAW24etU5cj8xQ5x9EGsGmAIKG9abxVWIWC710KEL1UxoH1FYSb5hQUYZmV/s1600-h/Buff+on+horseback.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375867352447413090" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUexPyIbJa0tyYKwOqeu5C5Osfbi3OlAMoVOnBmtkn2PB6yX5XDT76XxgzER3JKjY92OttK6zq_Xm0jx-AtdAW24etU5cj8xQ5x9EGsGmAIKG9abxVWIWC710KEL1UxoH1FYSb5hQUYZmV/s400/Buff+on+horseback.jpg" /></a>
<div>Samuel Morris "Buff" Gupton is pictured below at right, smoking cigars with his brother James Gupton and a friendly pooch. In the photo above my grandfather "Buff" Gupton is shown in his younger years riding a horse in West Columbia, Texas. Today, August 30, 2009, marks the 48th anniversary of the passing of my father's father.</div>
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<div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FKtDGAiQc-nMcx-PnAIAhiSXJ9Qd0obhtZrkWWmikKop97VayOSo1_v4SNpN5tMNJfBAyreWNc095E4Yi56ituZjwLfrzOM-pXUPgmg8XjayaSFeCkPfyvQzITbzFT59G1HUTsy25Fmp/s1600-h/Buff+smoking+cigars+with+dog.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5375866231936137074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh2FKtDGAiQc-nMcx-PnAIAhiSXJ9Qd0obhtZrkWWmikKop97VayOSo1_v4SNpN5tMNJfBAyreWNc095E4Yi56ituZjwLfrzOM-pXUPgmg8XjayaSFeCkPfyvQzITbzFT59G1HUTsy25Fmp/s400/Buff+smoking+cigars+with+dog.jpg" /></a>
<div></div></div></div></div></div></div>Tracy Guptonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/01613413359372363689noreply@blogger.com0