The (Original) World’s Largest Pecan, Seguin, Texas March 2019

According to the sign next to this nut, Spanish explorer Cabeza de Vaca was the first European to describe the pecan, noting they were “good food”. Apparently, he had plenty of time to get familiar with the nut since he was held captive along the Guadalupe River for nine years.

Built in 1962, this statue is five feet long, two and a half wide, and weighs in at 1,000 pounds. For comparison, I placed an actual pecan and some nut meat that I found nearby on top. This is undisputedly my favorite pecan ever!

Let me tell you why: We had pecan trees when I was a kid and while gathering the nuts was a fun scavenger hunt, the shelling was excruciating. The tedious, messy, and finger-staining job fell to me. As Thanksgiving and its promise of pie neared, my weekend was shot. Seated at the picnic table, I had a 5-gallon bucket of pecans on my right, an empty one on the other side, and in front of me on the table sat the weapon of torture; the Texas Nutcracker.

This contraption was a gift from my favorite Aunt to Dad one Christmas. To say I did not think fondly of her when using it is an understatement. The procedure: pull back slider, insert pecan length-wise into grooved bed, attach the two heavy-duty rubber bands firmly around the peg on the base and the slider mechanism, pull the slider back six inches, (ooh, and this part is important) remember to move fingers before releasing slider.

With a loud snap, the slider pounded into the hard shell. If all went well, my fingers did not get pinched, pieces of shell did not fly out and scrape my skin, and the shell was cracked enough for me to pry it open and retrieve the mostly intact nutmeat halves (which Mom strongly preferred over pieces).

The spent shell I dropped into the empty bucket, destined to return to the tree as mulch. Ah, but I was not yet done, I still had to carefully remove the dark and bitter-tasting pith from the deep grooves in the nutmeat. Finally, the finished product plinked into the bottom of a large stainless steel bowl. One nut done; hundreds or thousands (it felt like millions) of nuts to go. It should come as no surprise that I still abhor pecans (and detest pecan pie).

Friendship Bracelet, Rockport Beach, Texas April 2019

Found this friendship bracelet in the wrack line during one of my beach strolls last week. I suppose this means I am now besties with some stranger somewhere. Fine by me, we can all use more friends…

I beachcombed these toys during my daily walks along Rockport Beach over the past couple months. I found them in this order, from left to right, and it made me chuckle when I realized they formed a pretty accurate timeline of the modes of transit in my life.

I grew up with ponies and horses but my favorite was Pancho. After school and on weekends (basically, any chance I got) we’d meander trails through the desert. I preferred riding bareback as it was the fastest way to freedom. On our way home I’d drop the reins around his neck and lay back to watch the sky. I’d share my young cares and worries, as well as my farfetched dreams, with my sweet pony; my head lolling side to side on his rump as he’d carefully walk us home.

Later, as a teenager I spent one summer zipping around a small town in Illinois on a moped. Okay, so it wasn’t a motorcycle, but I still loved that feeling of the breeze  flowing freely through my hair. I’ll admit the coolness factor of my moped was lessened by the basket up front but at least it came in handy. After I found a momma dog and her puppies at an abandoned farmhouse, most of my time was occupied collecting bottles along the roadside and redeeming them for the deposit so I could buy her dog food.

A few more years passed before I finally had my first car. The lure of the open road was (and remains) strong. I love that feeling of liberation when I open a map and follow a blue highway to anywhere. I’ve driven in all 50 states as well as through huge chunks of Canada. Along the way, I’ve logged 750,000 miles in ten different vehicles (yes, one of them was red and a couple were SUVs). Since I still love to explore, I have a shot at hitting a million in my lifetime.

Funny what you’ll find on the beach…

I call bs on the phrase, “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet.” Setting aside my aversion to roses, anyone who believes that saying has never been called pulchritudinous. Instead of making me feel beautiful, the word gives me the creeps. Try saying it out loud, it sounds like someone hacking up a hairball. It should be a description for a nauseating odor. (Ed. Note: I’ve never been called pulchritudinous. This is just the kind of thing I think about while feverishly fighting a cold. So I thought I’d share it with you. You’re welcome.)

Prickly Pear Flower, Palo Alto Battlefield National Historical Park, Brownsville, Texas March 2019

My beachcombing career really started reaping rewards this week. Literally:

Beach Comb

Figuratively:

Fishing Lure, Bracelet, $.41

And don’t forget the little gifts that artists leave behind for me to find:

Shark!

The downside to strolling the beach every day; sand everywhere. I am constantly finding sand in the most unusual places (no comment). And yes, I can feel your sympathy for me all the way over here…

I was fortunate to recently attend the Luck Reunion held at Willie Nelson’s ranch outside of Austin. The music festival derives its moniker from his fortuitously-named ranch. At first glance, the appellation seems appropriate considering Willie’s long and tumultuous career. But when I mull it over, I really think a better epithet would be Perseverance. During his 86 years, there were a multitude of setbacks:

• Born during the Great Depression, Willie’s parents abandoned him with his grandparents.
• By the age of ten he was playing in a band to earn much-needed money.
• He was discharged from the Air Force due to back problems after less than a year.
• He worked short stints as: tree trimmer, pawn shop clerk, bouncer, saddle maker, phone operator, disc jockey, door-to-door salesman for bibles, vacuums, and encyclopedias, guitar instructor, and actor.
• In 1970 he went through a divorce and his Tennessee ranch burned down.
• Married a total of four times, divorced three.
• Survived life-threatening emphysema.
• His 1985 movie, Red-headed Stranger, was a box office flop.
• In 1990 the IRS seized his assets, claiming he owed $32 million in back taxes, penalties, and interest.
• Arrested several times for marijuana possession.
• Roughly one third of his albums were failures.

Instead of giving up, Willie persistently pursued his passion; music. Over his 75 year career 46 of his albums charted in the top ten, he co-authored several books, and acted in 30 films. Oh, and remember that trouble with the IRS? While working to resolve his debt, Willie continued his involvement with Farm Aid (a benefit concert series he founded with John Mellencamp and Neil Young).

I’m not claiming Willie is a hero (though his album Heroes is fantastic, you should check it out) but I do admire how hard he worked to follow his passion. His life brings to mind the title of a book by Pema Chödrön, “Fail, Fail again, Fail better.” I would call it moxie or grit or even perseverance. But it damn sure wasn’t luck.