Yesterday’s Christmas Eve blizzard dropped more snow (14.1”) on Oklahoma City than any storm since 1890 when record keeping began. Hundreds of car accidents occurred, including a fifty-five car pile-up on one of the interstate highways. High snow drifts stranded many motorists for hours.
This morning, gloomy skies have passed. Even though temperatures are still in the twenties, the sun is shining brightly and melting, hopefully, will begin in earnest. The blizzard is a reminder of the disastrous economic year the State has experienced. Maybe the sunny skies are an omen that the economic storm has passed and the sun is beginning to shine on us again.
Times were financially tough in the oil patch during the early nineties and prompted a slogan often repeated wherever oilies congregated. It was “survive till ’95.” My partner Ray has coined a new slogan, “win in ’10.” The wonderful sunshine this morning gives me hope that we will.
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!
Eric'sWeb
Friday, December 25, 2009
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Earthly Complexities
Fresh from the war, I started graduate school at the University of Arkansas. Separated from polite society for almost two years, I was trying desperately to regain some of its social graces. My new thesis advisor, Dr. K, reminded me as much every day.
Dr. K had an idea for a thesis project in the Ouachita Mountains. Arkansas is one of the most geologically diverse areas on earth. Many minerals occur there, some found nowhere else. Dr. K, a brilliant man and a graduate of Cornell University intimidated me at least a little.
I was not the only person returning from Vietnam. There were half a dozen of us, including an ex-Green Beret. Dr. K and I were walking down the hall one day when we came upon Mr. GB, his back to us and obviously in deep thought. When Dr. K tapped him on the shoulder, he wheeled around, coming up with a vicious blow to the good Dr's groin and laying him out on the hallway floor. When Dr. K regained his senses, and his breath, he dragged himself off the floor.
I understood GB's motivation. It took me months to keep from hitting the ground whenever a car backfired near me. Still, I fully expected Dr. K, the chairman of the department of geology, to lower the proverbial boom on the ex-green beret. Instead, he began speaking in a soft, friendly tone.
"I realize where you just came from and how horrible it must have been, but you're back in the States now. I'm going to let what you just did pass this time, but sometime in the future I'm going to tap you on the shoulder. If you ever lay a hand on anyone ever again, for any reason, you will be dismissed from the Arkansas geology department and you won't be welcomed back.
I was with Dr. K the next time he came up on Mr. GB from behind and believe me, I wouldn't have done what he did. He tapped Mr. GB's shoulder and stood there, waiting for the inevitable reaction. As if in slow motion, Mr. GB bent forward, almost touching the floor, and then began his karate twirl. This time he stopped abruptly before he ever made his turn, his deadly blow pulled before ever making contact. When he saw Dr. K, he began to shake uncontrollably.
Dr. K nodded, smiled slightly and said, "Welcome back to the world."
In southwest Arkansas, just south of the Ouachita Overthrust, is a geologically complex area known only to a few lucky people. Before I ever set foot on the terrain, I got a lesson in life from an amazingly complex person that understood the human heart as well as he knew the heart of the earth.
Eric'sWeb
Dr. K had an idea for a thesis project in the Ouachita Mountains. Arkansas is one of the most geologically diverse areas on earth. Many minerals occur there, some found nowhere else. Dr. K, a brilliant man and a graduate of Cornell University intimidated me at least a little.
I was not the only person returning from Vietnam. There were half a dozen of us, including an ex-Green Beret. Dr. K and I were walking down the hall one day when we came upon Mr. GB, his back to us and obviously in deep thought. When Dr. K tapped him on the shoulder, he wheeled around, coming up with a vicious blow to the good Dr's groin and laying him out on the hallway floor. When Dr. K regained his senses, and his breath, he dragged himself off the floor.
I understood GB's motivation. It took me months to keep from hitting the ground whenever a car backfired near me. Still, I fully expected Dr. K, the chairman of the department of geology, to lower the proverbial boom on the ex-green beret. Instead, he began speaking in a soft, friendly tone.
"I realize where you just came from and how horrible it must have been, but you're back in the States now. I'm going to let what you just did pass this time, but sometime in the future I'm going to tap you on the shoulder. If you ever lay a hand on anyone ever again, for any reason, you will be dismissed from the Arkansas geology department and you won't be welcomed back.
I was with Dr. K the next time he came up on Mr. GB from behind and believe me, I wouldn't have done what he did. He tapped Mr. GB's shoulder and stood there, waiting for the inevitable reaction. As if in slow motion, Mr. GB bent forward, almost touching the floor, and then began his karate twirl. This time he stopped abruptly before he ever made his turn, his deadly blow pulled before ever making contact. When he saw Dr. K, he began to shake uncontrollably.
Dr. K nodded, smiled slightly and said, "Welcome back to the world."
In southwest Arkansas, just south of the Ouachita Overthrust, is a geologically complex area known only to a few lucky people. Before I ever set foot on the terrain, I got a lesson in life from an amazingly complex person that understood the human heart as well as he knew the heart of the earth.
Eric'sWeb
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Persistant Earthquakes Worry Residents of Small Oklahoma Community
A rash of unexplained earthquakes plague a central Oklahoma town.
http://newsok.com/quakes-still-shaking-jones/article/3426115
Eric'sWeb
http://newsok.com/quakes-still-shaking-jones/article/3426115
Eric'sWeb
Dog Story
I have told the story of how I gave my dog Slick to a caring family that apparently loved him more than me. Slick and his adopted family still live nearby. On a walk through the neighborhood a few days ago, they stopped by for a visit.
Slick, a beautiful black Gordon setter, will be thirteen in March. His black hair has turned gray and he walks now instead of runs. When he was my dog, he never stopped running. I was at work when Slick and his adopted parents dropped by, but their visit jogged a distant memory.
I have a tiny little oil and gas company and operate a few shallow gas wells in Noble County, Oklahoma. One summer, many years ago, I took Slick and Lucky with me to check out the wells. Both dogs loved riding in my 1992 Acura Vigor. It was hot, the temperature over 100 degrees when we reached the first well. It was then I made a mistake that I will never again repeat.
I got out of the car to check the gas meter, leaving the car running and the key in the ignition. Slick immediately jumped up to see where I was going and depressed the door lock. When I returned from the meter, I found myself locked out of the car, the two dogs, and their tails wagging, unable to open door.
I quickly learned that it is almost impossible to break out a window of tempered glass. Frustrated, I searched the ditches for a clothes hanger (yeah, sure!) to open the door. Twenty minutes later, a very nice young man drove up in a truck. Amazingly, he had a clothes hanger and we soon managed to open the car. I waved in appreciation as he drove away down the road. I wasn’t even upset when Slick and Lucky bailed out of the car and took off running.
Happy to be back in the air-conditioned Vigor, I simply followed the galloping dogs down the unpaved, section-line road. They ran for almost two miles before I finally corralled them at an abandoned oil lease. Slick and Lucky were pooped but happy when they finally jumped back into the Acura.
Lucky passed away in November after a long and wonderful life. Slick is old, but he has also had a wonderful life. He doesn’t run thirteen miles a day anymore, but then who among us still does?
Eric'sWeb
Slick, a beautiful black Gordon setter, will be thirteen in March. His black hair has turned gray and he walks now instead of runs. When he was my dog, he never stopped running. I was at work when Slick and his adopted parents dropped by, but their visit jogged a distant memory.
I have a tiny little oil and gas company and operate a few shallow gas wells in Noble County, Oklahoma. One summer, many years ago, I took Slick and Lucky with me to check out the wells. Both dogs loved riding in my 1992 Acura Vigor. It was hot, the temperature over 100 degrees when we reached the first well. It was then I made a mistake that I will never again repeat.
I got out of the car to check the gas meter, leaving the car running and the key in the ignition. Slick immediately jumped up to see where I was going and depressed the door lock. When I returned from the meter, I found myself locked out of the car, the two dogs, and their tails wagging, unable to open door.
I quickly learned that it is almost impossible to break out a window of tempered glass. Frustrated, I searched the ditches for a clothes hanger (yeah, sure!) to open the door. Twenty minutes later, a very nice young man drove up in a truck. Amazingly, he had a clothes hanger and we soon managed to open the car. I waved in appreciation as he drove away down the road. I wasn’t even upset when Slick and Lucky bailed out of the car and took off running.
Happy to be back in the air-conditioned Vigor, I simply followed the galloping dogs down the unpaved, section-line road. They ran for almost two miles before I finally corralled them at an abandoned oil lease. Slick and Lucky were pooped but happy when they finally jumped back into the Acura.
Lucky passed away in November after a long and wonderful life. Slick is old, but he has also had a wonderful life. He doesn’t run thirteen miles a day anymore, but then who among us still does?
Eric'sWeb
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Eric Wilder's Famous 151 Proof Rum Punch
I had a bachelor’s pad just north of Oklahoma City’s Taft Stadium. The little house had two fireplaces, a redwood hot tub and a wet bar. I spent thousands landscaping the hilly front yard with sandstone walkways and retainer walls, courtesy of Jakob, a master stoneworker and Israeli expatriate (another story).
As a bachelor, I always wanted my guests to enjoy themselves and I always helped them along by preparing my famous rum punch. The last time I made rum punch was at a party at my last bachelor pad.
What I had found about my rum punch is that almost no one was too discernible when it came to taste. The ingredients consisted of crushed ice, three or four cans of Hawaiian Punch and copious amounts of 151 proof rum. Hell, after the first cup you had no taste left anyway.
The last time I served my famous rum punch was a night much like tonight - cold and dreary. The guests quickly finished a bowl of punch. By the time I had concocted a second bowl, all the guests had already lost total control of their inhibitions - and their bodily movements.
My good friend Mickey left the party, tumbling headfirst down the hill to his car. Several of my friends left with other guest’s wives and girlfriends. The next day Anne said, “No more. You are never making your famous punch again. You could have gotten someone killed.”
I always listened to Anne. That day, many years ago, was the last time I ever concocted my famous punch. Will I ever make it again? Maybe, but you will have to stay the night.
Eric'sWeb
As a bachelor, I always wanted my guests to enjoy themselves and I always helped them along by preparing my famous rum punch. The last time I made rum punch was at a party at my last bachelor pad.
What I had found about my rum punch is that almost no one was too discernible when it came to taste. The ingredients consisted of crushed ice, three or four cans of Hawaiian Punch and copious amounts of 151 proof rum. Hell, after the first cup you had no taste left anyway.
The last time I served my famous rum punch was a night much like tonight - cold and dreary. The guests quickly finished a bowl of punch. By the time I had concocted a second bowl, all the guests had already lost total control of their inhibitions - and their bodily movements.
My good friend Mickey left the party, tumbling headfirst down the hill to his car. Several of my friends left with other guest’s wives and girlfriends. The next day Anne said, “No more. You are never making your famous punch again. You could have gotten someone killed.”
I always listened to Anne. That day, many years ago, was the last time I ever concocted my famous punch. Will I ever make it again? Maybe, but you will have to stay the night.
Eric'sWeb
Saturday, December 12, 2009
Oklahoma Crow Pictures
Here are some pictures taken of some of the many crows that populate the Edmond, Oklahoma area. Hundreds of these large and noisy birds live near my house. They are hard to photograph because they are very skitsy when it comes to humans. Not because of me, I love them.
Wednesday, December 09, 2009
Dr. M's Louisiana Cattle Ranch
Harvey, my former father-in-law raised cattle and had a small pasture behind his house in Chalmette where he ran a few head. Harvey had an old friend, a doctor that had a large cattle ranch in the eastern Louisiana town of Vidalia. Dr. M became very wealthy when a company found oil and lots of it on his ranch.
Shortly after the discovery of oil, Dr. M retired from medicine and spent his days trading stock and traveling. A devout Catholic, the Pope granted him and his family a private meeting during a visit to the Vatican. Dr. M was also a member of the Krewe of Rex and had once paid a million dollars for the privilege of being King of that Krewe during one Mardi Gras season.
Wanting to experiment with different breeds of cattle, Dr. M hired his old friend Harvey to oversee the operation. Relishing the challenge, Harvey and wife Lily began splitting their time between Vidalia and Chalmette. On a trip to Chalmette, Gail and I stopped along the way for a visit to the ranch.
Dr. M and his family rarely visited the ranch any more so Lily and Harvey had the main house all to themselves. The living room, I remember, had a large mirror on one wall made of one-way glass. Dr. M was apparently a voyeur and liked watching his guests through the one-way glass from an adjacent room that most knew nothing about.
The ranch was two full sections of land and abutted the levee on the west side of the Mississippi River. Harvey and Dr. M were trying to establish a new breed of cattle for the area - Black Angus. The weather turned out too hot and humid for this breed and the experiment ultimately ended in failure.
The ranch had a bunkhouse large enough to accommodate a dozen hired hands, if needed. During our visit there was no seasonal help and Gail and I had the bunkhouse to ourselves. We spent the day touring the ranch, examining the barns, stalls and cutting pens. Lily seemed unhappy when we left the following morning and I am sure she missed her large family in Chalmette.
Perhaps Harvey was also missing Chalmette and his own cows because shortly after our visit, he quit his job as foreman and he and Lily moved back to their own home. Gail and I were glad to see Lily happy again, but I am also glad that we had the chance to see Dr. M's large working cattle ranch before Harvey finally quit.
Gondwana
Shortly after the discovery of oil, Dr. M retired from medicine and spent his days trading stock and traveling. A devout Catholic, the Pope granted him and his family a private meeting during a visit to the Vatican. Dr. M was also a member of the Krewe of Rex and had once paid a million dollars for the privilege of being King of that Krewe during one Mardi Gras season.
Wanting to experiment with different breeds of cattle, Dr. M hired his old friend Harvey to oversee the operation. Relishing the challenge, Harvey and wife Lily began splitting their time between Vidalia and Chalmette. On a trip to Chalmette, Gail and I stopped along the way for a visit to the ranch.
Dr. M and his family rarely visited the ranch any more so Lily and Harvey had the main house all to themselves. The living room, I remember, had a large mirror on one wall made of one-way glass. Dr. M was apparently a voyeur and liked watching his guests through the one-way glass from an adjacent room that most knew nothing about.
The ranch was two full sections of land and abutted the levee on the west side of the Mississippi River. Harvey and Dr. M were trying to establish a new breed of cattle for the area - Black Angus. The weather turned out too hot and humid for this breed and the experiment ultimately ended in failure.
The ranch had a bunkhouse large enough to accommodate a dozen hired hands, if needed. During our visit there was no seasonal help and Gail and I had the bunkhouse to ourselves. We spent the day touring the ranch, examining the barns, stalls and cutting pens. Lily seemed unhappy when we left the following morning and I am sure she missed her large family in Chalmette.
Perhaps Harvey was also missing Chalmette and his own cows because shortly after our visit, he quit his job as foreman and he and Lily moved back to their own home. Gail and I were glad to see Lily happy again, but I am also glad that we had the chance to see Dr. M's large working cattle ranch before Harvey finally quit.
Gondwana
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Damp Hibiscus and Butterfly - pictures
Here are two pictures taken in late September, when warm breezes still blew. Now it is December, the wind chilly, but spring can't be far behind.
Friday, December 04, 2009
Buzzards and Butterflies
There were at least a dozen Monarch Butterflies in my backyard when I went for a walk with my pugs. I only had my Nikon with the relatively short zoom and was unable to get any close-ups. Hurrying into the house, I returned with my Pentax and 200mm zoom lens.
Even though I didn’t manage to take any “drop dead gorgeous” pics, I had a great time clicking away at the fast moving little creatures. Most of the Monarchs had departed when I returned to the backyard but there were dozens of large yellow butterflies. Dressed in shorts, tee shirt and flip flops, I snapped away as mosquitoes made a meal of my legs and ankles.
After watching the first half of Alabama drubbing Arkansas, I threw in the towel and decided to take a walk through the neighborhood. Monarchs were everywhere, flitting in front of me but never quite close enough to get a shot with my Nikon. Reveling in the gorgeous creatures flying around me, I was unprepared for what I saw next.
As I topped the hill about a mile from my house, I saw a huge turkey buzzard in someone’s front yard. I stopped, extracted my camera, put it on full zoom and began clicking away. I was close enough to hit the huge buzzard with a spitball, but unfortunately not close enough to get a clear picture.
My little Nikon is great for taking still photos, mostly close-ups, but out of its element when taking action shots. As I looked at my pics upon returning to the house, I saw that all I had was a blur.
It was a gorgeous day in Central Oklahoma. I missed most of the good butterfly pics and totally flopped on the buzzard pic. Arkansas, my favorite team, was creamed but hey, it was a gorgeous day in central Oklahoma and you can’t have everything.
Louisiana Mystery Writer
Even though I didn’t manage to take any “drop dead gorgeous” pics, I had a great time clicking away at the fast moving little creatures. Most of the Monarchs had departed when I returned to the backyard but there were dozens of large yellow butterflies. Dressed in shorts, tee shirt and flip flops, I snapped away as mosquitoes made a meal of my legs and ankles.
After watching the first half of Alabama drubbing Arkansas, I threw in the towel and decided to take a walk through the neighborhood. Monarchs were everywhere, flitting in front of me but never quite close enough to get a shot with my Nikon. Reveling in the gorgeous creatures flying around me, I was unprepared for what I saw next.
As I topped the hill about a mile from my house, I saw a huge turkey buzzard in someone’s front yard. I stopped, extracted my camera, put it on full zoom and began clicking away. I was close enough to hit the huge buzzard with a spitball, but unfortunately not close enough to get a clear picture.
My little Nikon is great for taking still photos, mostly close-ups, but out of its element when taking action shots. As I looked at my pics upon returning to the house, I saw that all I had was a blur.
It was a gorgeous day in Central Oklahoma. I missed most of the good butterfly pics and totally flopped on the buzzard pic. Arkansas, my favorite team, was creamed but hey, it was a gorgeous day in central Oklahoma and you can’t have everything.
Louisiana Mystery Writer
Thursday, December 03, 2009
Oklahoma Pugs - pictures
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