Rushing's Ramblings

Recently, I wrote about my long friendship with Larry. Today, I learned that he passed away a few weeks ago, which explains why he wasn’t answering my calls. Larry was 84 years old and apparently died peacefully. A former prison inmate came to live with him this past year. Larry had a habit of making pen pals with prisoners. He agreed to give his house and car to this man in exchange for living with Larry until he died. I had asked the roommate to contact me if anything happened to Larry, but he didn’t. At least I know that Larry isn’t suffering anymore from the debilitating symptoms of HIV, which left him in a wheelchair and somewhat dependent on others for his care. The following is the original piece I wrote about him a few months ago with minor revisions: Larry was a close neighbor when I lived in Dallas over 20 years ago. We spent hours on each other’s porches discussing our workday, politics, people, news, religion, opinions about various subjects, and our respective hist

  I met Clark and his wife at the pool shortly after they moved into our 62+ apartment complex a few months ago.  Clark immediately told me that he had written a book, lived an adventurous life, and was available to give inspirational speeches.  I didn’t absorb his words then because I could say the same, apart from giving inspirational speeches.  After all, what could I possibly say that would inspire anyone?    Clark and his beautiful wife, Julie, make an impression when they enter a room. Clark has a deep, booming voice that grabs one’s attention.  I imagine he was a stunningly handsome man when he was younger, and he still looks striking. Clark smiles while talking and maintains excellent eye contact.  The best trait he possesses is that he periodically takes a breath and asks about the other person, i.e., it’s not all about him, although that would be easy.   Today, the apartment building management sponsored breakfast in honor of veterans.  I purposely sat at a table with several

  I’ve been around guns most of my life.  Years ago, I carried a pistol while running in the pre-dawn hours after hearing that women runners were being snatched off the street and raped.  Did I use the gun?  Hell, yes.  One morning, I heard a man's heavy footsteps chasing me; I stopped, turned around, and confronted him with a small pistol.  When I yelled for him to get the f*** away from me, he threw his arms in the air and ran away as fast as he could in the other direction.  I thought for a minute that he would have a heart attack; if he had, it wouldn’t bother me.   More recently, I kept a shotgun near my front door after being threatened online by a man belonging to the Collin County Republican Party.  His Facebook page was literally “loaded” with pictures of automatic weapons.  He took offense to my political posts and commented that he knew where I lived and that all “libtards” deserved to die.  The local police did a great job patrolling my house for two weeks, but I figure

Over 20 years ago, Phillips High School alumni Max Sherman, and Morris Creel, had lunch at a catfish restaurant in Pflugerville.  When they first met, the town and school had been gone since the mid-80s. The Austin area is home to quite a few PHS graduates, and the two men wanted a way to bring everyone together. Morris began inviting Phillips exes to quarterly lunches at Springhill Restaurant.  For the first ten years of the “lunch bunch” gatherings, it wasn’t unusual for 30 to 40 people to gather for a couple of hours filled with laughter.  Everyone goes down memory lane with stories of football, band, and general shenanigans.  Although some have passed away through the years, 15 to 20 people still make it to Pflugerville every few months.   PHS alums are a unique bunch of folks.  Their town and school might no longer exist, but the Blackhawk spirit and memories survive.  Springhill Restaurant has honored the group by giving them a separate meeting room.  The room’s ceiling and walls