Luv Ya Wade

Wade Phillips is now out as Defensive Coordinator and Interim Head Coach for the Houston Texans.

Way to go, B.O.B. Make sure you bring in all your yankee cronies, including Romeo. You're sure to endear yourself to Houstonians this way (*snark*).

Yeah. If you're not a native Texan and Houstonian, you wouldn't understand.

And, no, THIS is not how wars are won. This is how they are started.

Luv Ya Bum

A true giant has left us.

Oail Andrew "Bum" Phillips has passed away at the age of 90. I suppose it would be selfish to ask to have him on this Earth for another 90 years; after all, his work is done, he gave us all that he had, and he deserves to reap his reward. Because that's the man he was.

But what a loss for the rest of us mere mortals.





An incredible coach, an honorable man, and a major part of my sweetest childhood memories, Bum certainly left his mark in our hearts and in our lives. The legendary years he coached the Oilers were the most thrilling and exciting years for this chick and her Daddy-O. Like every Houstonian in the late 1970s, we caught Oiler fever. What a ride! Bum made us all believers that we were "gonna kick that sumbitch in", and by golly, we came closer than we ever had before or since.



Those were truly the glory days for my beloved city, and a special bonding time between my father and me. The Earl Campbell jerseys we wore, the ceramic figurines we painted that sold like hotcakes, the days spent glued to the television, or, when we were lucky enough, to our seats at the Astrodome, the heartbreak we endured when we came close, OH SO CLOSE, but lost our Superbowl dreams in a most brutal way. And yet, there was Bum, apologizing for letting us down. The love of the fans and the roar of the crowd upon their return to the Dome after that dismal game immediately corrected (I hope) his mistaken idea that Houston did not appreciate his and the Oilers' efforts that year. He took the burden of the loss upon his significant shoulders, because that's  the man that he was.






But we had just been taken on the ride of our lives, and of course the defeat stung, but we were proud. So VERY proud of Bum and our "boys" that there was not a single seat empty in the Astrodome that day to welcome our heroes back home. We were determined to show our love, support, and gratitude, and Bum was moved to tears. Because that's the man he was. And because the Oilers weren't just "Texas' team", they were OUR team.

Pastorini, Campbell, Stabler, Bethea. Of course, these were talented players, all. But with Bum at the helm, the Oilers became even more than the sum of their parts. They became a collective legend.

I will watch the Texans game today, as usual. I will thank the powers that be that we have on board Bum's wonderful son, Wade Phillips, as Texans defensive coordinator. The acorn does not fall far from the tree, much to our good fortune. But somehow I know there will never be another Oilers, another team to rival our "Luv Ya Blue" family, another 1978-1980 streak, and there will absolutely never be another Bum. His shoes are not hard to fill; they are impossible to fill.

For those wishing to honor Bum Phillips, there are two important things you can do: if you are a resident of Harris County, PLEASE vote in favor of the Astrodome Bond Proposal on November 5, 2013. It would be the ultimate tribute to Bum, the Oilers, the citizens of Houston, and the state of Texas to restore the Astrodome for all the world to enjoy. Also, you may contribute to Bum Phillips Charities , a beloved endeavor created to make the world a better place by Bum and his dear wife, Debbie.

Rest in peace, dear Bum, and thank you so much for bringing unparalleled joy to this gal. You will be missed more than you could ever know.

Thursday

YES. She said, it will be Thursday. Emeralds and sunflowers. The color of the sea and the sun. And the essence of the Earth.

For you are Thursday's Child. I will love you Thursday and Forever. And After Forever.

Do our worlds clash?

YES. She replied, of course.

All the much better to create a new world.

Only for you I don't regret.


 

Amble On, Old Friend

Just found out today that an old blogging friend has gone on to amble along greener paths than those he found on this blue marble and at the local paper.

Daryl "Abe" Cochran, aka Old Rusty Bucket, aka Amblin' Abe, passed away this past Sunday. He was one of the "original" bloggers for the local rag, the Victoria Advocate, along with the Grey-Beard Loon and Pilot. Those three, in my day, formed a sort of "holy trinity" and I like to think that they gave a little class to a fledgling online version of an old and storied newspaper. Sadly, over the years, nearly all the early bloggers for that publication, including CJ Castillo, Tim Oi, Amber Bee, Natasha Verma, and others removed themselves from the ever-increasing lowered journalistic standards practiced by the VicAd, and most went off to form their own blogs on alternative sites. Some of us kept in touch through the years, and some not so much.

Abe (or as most called him, Rusty) wrote some down-to-Earth, humorous stuff that always had a gleam of truth to boot. His frankness sometimes offended those sensitive types, but he was never afraid to say what was on his mind. His riding mower adventures are legendary; well, at least in my mind they are. His mishaps quite reminded me of my dad at times. His "Amblin' Abe" outdoor column, always interesting and intelligently written, was deemed unnecessary by the "new guard" at the Victoria Advocate and he was summarily discharged so that more room could be devoted to unwed mamas and their baby daddies; the latest liberal whinefests; fascinating facts on the local celebrity, "Pepper"; facetious "Pro/Con" articles concerning the most asinine and ridiculous topics ever placed in print; and ALL the typographical, grammatical, and factual errors one publication could possibly hold.

After the departure of such journalistic maestros including Abe, Grey-Beard Loon, and Henry Wolf, the VicAd began its long downward spiral that continues to this day. The depression and sadness this caused for many especially affected my old friend Rusty and, I contend, played no small role in his last days. The demise of the VicAd  was a common topic of conversation between us, as well as Grey-Beard Loon and Pilot, and while I know that my friends and I would not have done things any other way, we still mourn the loss of a once fine publication with high journalistic standards and the huge hole created by the absence of such amazing writers once employed at the stately building at 311 E. Constitution.

Which is a long-winded way of saying, "Goodbye, my old Amblin' friend. You are not forgotten". A kind, bright, witty, and generous soul has departed, and the loss is felt. Too bad it won't be recognized by the local rag. How quickly they do forget.

Amble on, Rusty. And Godspeed.

What a Long, Strange Trip It's Been

Yes, indeedy, I've been away for sometime. Really, in the same spot I've always been, but wanderlust of the heart and the love of my life has had me sidetracked for some time now. Now that my feet are once again on terra firma, production of a lucid blog is possible. Yeah, I've missed doing this, and that man in my life is still around. But a year gone and so many changes in the last months in my life led to a sabbatical of sorts in my online life. The whirlwind of twists and turns have led to some interesting developments, and my back pages are now my future rainbow to travel. How lucky a chick am I?

Life is good. Just wanted to share that, and a song or two with all of you. Enjoy the day. Seize your opportunities. And maybe you'll find gold at the end of your rainbow.











And that brings me to a sweet anniversary present for my Big Daddy. Some things are just meant to be, baby. You are my pot of gold, always and forever.