The Ramblings of Weesatch Joe

 There are things in life that no one warns you about, that no one prepares you for. The thing, the moment, comes at you suddenly in right field, a screaming line drive, where one you were contentedly watching the dandelions grow. One minute, all is right, well, and peaceful; the next: WHAM! Life takes a nasty bounce and slams you right in the kishkus. And, much like Shakespeare’s version of Caesar, you look around in vain, seeking someone to ask, “ Et tu, Brute? ” For example, you cruise through high school, convincing yourself that you are a grown man or grown woman, knowing you aren’t really quite ready, yet, but nevertheless pretending to be ready to take on the world – if for no other reason than to convince yourself, and your parents, that you are ready for more and more freedom, more and more responsibility. When it is finally given to you, willingly or begrudgingly, you have, indeed, made another step towards adulthood. “What do you mean, it’s my responsibility to get the ...

Monday, July 13, 2026, my wife and I will celebrate our thirtieth wedding anniversary. It looks to be a hot day here in northern Oklahoma, not all that different than the afternoon in Austin, Texas, when we pledged ourselves to each other with a matching pair of “I do’s,” forsaking all others, and to love, honor and cherish (and, for Laura, to obey – thanks Uncle Bill) through sickness and health ‘til death do us part. We’ve done a few things that my parents never got to do. We have seen the Atlantic and the Pacific oceans. We’ve stood on Colorado mountains and in Death Valley, California. I own a collection of woodworking tools that Dad would either be jealous of, or shake his head in disbelief that I bought such things. I found their will from 1978, where they named two items, specifically, to be distributed as inheritance: a shotgun, to be given to Dad’s youngest brother, and an antique kitchen table, to be given to Mom’s brother. That was all – and not even to be left to us kids!...