my family and my Uncle Butch

My uncle Butch Passed almost a year ago, and he is now consantly again in my thoughts at any given moment. i thought i would share with you all what i felt on that day. This is what family is about. This is what we are trying deperately to preserve. i know it is long, but it is from my heart, and worth reading.


My first memories of Uncle Butch were as he came home from Viet Nam. I was 11 years old, and Butch looked so much like a soldier all lean and mean, stepping out of a government vehicle driven by another soldier in charge of getting him away from the war and back to his family up on Paint Rock Mountain where he grew up. I was almost scared to go up to him, with his Marine hair and his loud baritone voice. Within minutes he was calling me Bobby and I was hanging on every word he spoke. That bond only grew stronger over the years.

The next memories of Butch were in Grandma Marie’s driveway, him and Uncle Virgil playing music for us until the wee hours, old country ballads that still haunt my memories. From that moment I wanted to be a singer, I wanted to pick a guitar like him, and from then on music would be mixed with everything I did. Memories of Butch and Aunt Ellen singing old Johnny Cash songs together are still vivid, reminding me of what binds and ties our family together.

Uncle Butch went from the tragedies of war to a music career, playing in a band in and around Paris, Arkansas, playing rodeos in Arkansas and Oklahoma. Soon he got a weekly gig on the radio, and everyone knew him as “Cowboy Buddy”, the man with a golden voice and a personality that just wouldn’t quit. Everyone knew him, and I was so proud to be his nephew.

And as I drove to mother’s house to give her the terrible news about her brother, I drew from his strength, and he was just over my shoulder as I told mom. And his songs ran through my mind over and over. Songs like “The Old Rugged Cross” a song I last heard him sing to my Grandpa Aub as he laid in a casket awaiting the final trip to Paint Rock cemetery. Songs like “I Overlooked an Orchid While Searching For a Rose”, a song My Grandpa Vaughn sang to Grandma Marie when Butch was a child.

And I watched from the front row as hundreds of his friends said goodbye to him for the last time. And I cried silent tears as we carried him to the hearst and took the slow ride back to the cemetery up on Paint Rock Mountain.

And I was so proud of Butch as the trumpet played and his fellow marines folded his flag and presented it on bended knee to my cousin Jack, his son. I will never forget how slow the salute came to the marine’s brim. I will never forget the words from Brother Carter’s mouth as he told of a man he knew very well.

Too many times we have made this trip. Too many times I have walked through those gates. I’m tired of watching mother cry, and I hope not to ever see that again.

Still, through all the sadness that cemetery hill has brought upon my family, still it draws me to it like a magnet every time I get close, for this is my Grandma’s resting place, and it holds within its gates my heritage, my roots, my family.

Too late are my words to thank Butch for what he has done. He lived life to the fullest, and we all grew up wanting that energy he had, that musical talent and that way he had with people. Through him we know that music is intertwined in everything we do, calming us in times of tragedy and lifting our spirits when we are feeling low. Through him we know how to love with all our hearts. Because of him, we all have a bond that will only get stronger with the years.

Butch is in Heaven now, but he will remain with us forever in our music. I would imagine he is at this time leaning against the pearly gates with a gold inlaid Martin Guitar, playing another song for the angels as they Ask him “Just one more song, please?”

Rest in peace Uncle Butch. Soon we will all be together again forever, playing the music you taught us.

Mom's famous chili, her internet is down so she will never know.

after being confined to our home for two days straight, the wife, the kids, the dogs and the cat, i have been contemplating moving South. Just kidding, i think we live in the most perfect part of the World, with a taste of all four seasons, a river near by and some of the most beautiful scenery anywhere.
That being said, last week was kind of crappy. One of the meals we cooked up while we were confined to our home was Mom's famous chili. Her chili will bring in kinfolk from hundreds of miles. Just the mention of that chili sends me salivating like one of Pavlov's dogs after the bell has rung.
The last time i gave away one of her recipes, she kind of snapped on me, but, not to worry, her internet is down and she will never read this blog.
i hope.

Grace's chili

Brown together:
3 pounds ground beef
3 large onions, cut in half, then into thick slices
3 cloves garlic, minced

add:
3 packages chili seasoning any brand to taste
2 Tspns chili powder
pinch salt and pepper
2 cans sliced tomatoes undrained
1 can chili beans undrained
1 can pinto beans drained (reserve juice)
add to taste at end

Bring to a boil and simmer, uncovered, over low heat for an hour or two. stir occasionally. Add bean juice as needed, but it should be thick. Salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with bowls of chopped onions and grated cheddar cheese, along with crackers and big hunks of cornbread baked in a buttered iron skillet.

This in one of my favorite recipesMom says it is a passage into winter each year, and also it says "i love you" to her children. it brings me back to a time when all six kids and two parents ate together every night, talking over the day and planning our weekends together.
I do miss those days.