There… and back.

A good museum never stops. There’s something else around every corner, behind every door. When you crawl out of one exhibit there’s another one right there waiting for you. You find yourself opening everything, peeking into every corner, reading every word to see what’s new and what’s next. Eventually, when they turn off the lights and push you out the front door, you’re not halfway to your transport before you’re fishing out a notebook and a pen, making a list of all the things you want to make sure not to miss on your next trip.

Space Center Houston is a good museum. I’ve just spent a couple of hours crawling up, down, over, under, and around their “Facing Mars” exhibit, taking pictures (not enough) and making notes (never enough…), and dealing in a very limited way with some of the questions involved in “should we go to Mars?” (I’ll get back to you on that one.)

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Mars… or bust.

The note on the negative sleeve says 1967. My sister, very stylish and pretty in a white summer dress, and I, defiantly anti-stylish in a blue shirt (buttoned all the way up, thank you.) and black slacks, stand in front of a tipped-over Mercury Redstone rocket and an oddly shaped unmarked white cone with a shape that would later become very familiar – an early model of the Apollo capsule. I was six or seven years old – I still had hair. Mom or Grandpa would have made the picture. Probably Mom.

It’s been a while since I went to NASA.

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“Fly Day”

A few weeks ago, the Commemorative Air Force and the Texas Flying Legends Museum parked a few of their airplanes on a quiet part of the apron at Ellington Field so curious folk could wander around, tour the airplanes, maybe buy a ride. I’m not nearly well-heeled enough to buy a ride, but I was curious.



(There’s a gallery behind Texas Raiders and the Beast. Enjoy.)

Truck Stop

So I mentioned the car show in the last episode, and in the process of processing the pictures I decided I liked a few more and wanted to share them, and since I shot them for the fun of it on nobody’s dime but my own, I get to do that…

So…


we’ve done this before, you know the drill.

Clik the pik.

Me, I think it was worth stopping for.

How To Stop a Truck.

If you want to really get my attention while I’m driving down the road on a pretty Saturday there are two good ways that don’t involve flashing lights.

First, park something like this on the side of the road:

This is Harry Zachau’s Studebaker President 8 Sport Roadster, and a truly beautiful example of the species. It was hanging out with a bunch of other pretty iron at the Cedar Creek Bar and Grill up in the Heights, part of the Houston Skyline Rotary Club’s “Rotary Rally.” There were a bunch of nicely done Chevies and “Cobras” (pretty sure they were all continuation models; the originals cost way too much to bring out for a lowkey event), a nice rodded-out `32 Deuce Coupe, a bit of this and a few of that… Good turnout and good selection for a new event.

The OTHER way to do it is a LOT cheaper.

Post one of these.

I’ll stop for a Studebaker. I’ll make a U-turn for a book sale.

Across Traffic. (There wasn’t any, so it was okay.)

And yes, there were books.

Books. Several followed me home, and I’m gonna keep them.

29.41734 N; 98.48265 W

Another weekend walkabout, this time at the Texas Folklife Festival.
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I wasn’t really chasing stories this year, more looking for connections and information. That part went well; there will be stories coming out of this for a while.

Meantime, I’ve been reading a lot of Steve McCurry lately.

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Mr. McCurry remains better than I am, certainly, but the gap isn’t as big as I thought.

And now for something completely the same. But different.

After I recovered from the morning muggery (took about three quarts of water and one of powerade plus a couple hours of sitting in front of a fan doing nothing) I went out to finish my morning stroll… and found… another flower.

It’s not quite as happy as the morning cannas but it’s pretty impressive all the same.

UPDATE 06/08/2014

Spent a little bit of Saturday wandering along the Paseo del Rio in San Antonio (thanks to the folks at Megabus I can afford the trip sometimes) and ran across the other side of the coin. Well, it’s only fair that if you post FlowerPorn for one side, you should likewise post FlowerPorn for the other. That one up there ^ is the male Sago. This is the female.

29.71555 N, 95.501787 W

Went walkabout this morning, and while the heat wasn’t too bad the humidity purely kicked my ass… but before I staggered home after half my normal time, two quarts low and hanging on my walking staff, I got smiley-mugged by a few friends saying hello.

Enjoy.
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It’s good to have friends.

INFANTry

Was looking through a few more of the 6th Cav shots, and ran across this one. This is Hunter Miertschin, who’s portraying a Navy SeaBee radioman.

We think of the vets from WWII and they’re old men now. Gramps, great-grandpa, “Uncle” George (who’s really dad’s uncle but he hates to be treated like an old man, even when his knees don’t work and his hair’s gone and he shuffles more than walks…)

And here’s Hunter, looking for all the world like a kid caught playing with stuff he found in an old trunk in the back of the attic.

He’s a kid. And just barely a kid, at that. He ought to be curled around a book somewhere dreaming of kings and knights and explorers, or wandering the woods by a stream somewhere with a hook on a string, pestering the fish, or maybe patching a bike tube or tweaking the engine of his goosed-up little Honda. The helmet’s too big, the carbine (which is a little bitty rifle) looks like it’d knock him ass-over-backwards if he had to shoot it.

He’s 18.

Let that sink in. We’ll wait.

He’s exactly the right age. When the old man climbed over the side of a ship in the surf off Normandy, or Tarawa, or some other hell on some other sand, going to put an end to the big war started by the biggest madmen of the age (maybe of all ages) he looked like this. JUST like this.

Think about that. Think HARD.

And then if it happens that you’ve got a grampa or great grampa, or an “Uncle” George, who was there, at Normandy or Anzio or Saipan or Iwo Jima or any of the other hells, and he made it back and he’s still with us, go find him and shake his hand and say thank you… and if he’s willing, let the old man tell his tales again. (And this time take notes and maybe a recorder, if he’ll let you, because these are the guys who did one of the Great Things, and we’re losing their stories WAY too fast. And if we lose the stories, we lose the history… and if we can at the least keep the history, there’s at least some chance we won’t have to send kids like Hunter to do it again.)

Because they’re just kids.

Memorial Meandering

I spent most of yesterday afternoon hanging out at HMNS with some of the Living Historians who perform as General George Patton’s Third Army, and also with elements of the 6th Cavalry Historical Association, a group of folks dedicated, by their own admission,

to preserving the memory of our nation’s veterans and patriots who sacrificed to secure the freedom of all Americans.


General George S. Patton discusses the history of the Second World War with visitors in the front lobby at the Houston Museum of Natural Science. Denny Hair has been portraying General Patton since 1984.


The Sixth are a great bunch of folks who model their unit after General Patton’s “Household Cavalry” unit. As you might expect, this means they work hard at getting the historical displays and impression portrayals correct. The equipment is accurate, if not pristine, and they’re constantly working to get it better.


Jack Slattery and Jimmy Brinkley brainstorm ways to improve their practice 60mm mortar rounds at the 6th Cavalry Historical Association Encampment, Houston Museum of Natural Science Memorial Day Exhibition. The mortar tube itself is a reproduction and a little bit underbored, but Brinkley doesn’t have the ability to bore it any larger. Another solution is called for.

They’re also having a blast doing this, even if it’s a lot of work.

(And sometimes when it’s not.)

“Remember when….”

And they brought a heck of a motor pool, for a small group….


1943 Dodge 3/4 ton 4×4 Weapons Carrier truck in front of a 1943 GMC 2 1/2 ton 6×6 cargo truck, more commonly known as a “deuce and a half”


1944 Willys MB 1/4 ton Jeep followed by a 1942 Ford GPW 1/4 ton Jeep, with a 1941 Dodge 1/2 Ton Weapons Carrier truck behind it.


White M3A1 Half-Track armored personnel carrier. Yes, that’s a .50 cal machine gun on the mount above the cab.

Maintaining these vehicles in this condition is no small task. There’s a lot of time, money, work, and love in this – you can’t just stroll into your neighborhood AutoZone and buy an NOS ring gear for a `44 Willys Jeep. But they pull it off, and to borrow from Yoda, “when 75 years old YOU are, look as good you will not, hmmm?”


Stephen Brinkley of Spring, Texas with the 1944 Willys MB 1/4 Ton Jeep which he and his son Jimmy have carefully restored to original specifications.