While I was growing up, my parents fully supported my athletic career. But they also believed in hard work and understood that free time for a teenage boy was not a good thing. To say my teenage years were structured would be an understatement. 

While they never kept me from playing whatever sport I wanted to play, they had a rule that if I was not playing a sport, I had to get a job after school and on Saturdays. Note — our family was in no way desperate for money as my dad was superintendent for an oil drilling company. 

They wanted me to understand the benefits of a good work ethic. At the age of 10 my first job outside the family ranch was picking up trash on the mornings following all the baseball games the night before. 

They believed that many of life’s lessons were learned through working. Personally, I understood early in my childhood what a good work ethic was while growing up on a cattle ranch where there’s never a shortage of things to do. 

Jobs included, but were not limited to, building barns, vaccinating cattle, building fences and hauling hay. Owning a cattle ranch is a seven day a week job that requires a lot of commitment and dedication. It’s like raising kids; every day someone must do a head count while making sure they are fed. 

My last three years of high school, I had a job that I really enjoyed, working at Foxworth-Galbreath Lumber Yard. While I played three sports — football, baseball and track — it was during basketball season that I worked at the lumber yard after school.

I learned a lot from that experience, like how important it is to be on time. It was good that I answered to someone who held me accountable. I learned about the different grades of lumber and plywood as well as inventory control and how a lumber yard is managed. 

This also gave me a sense of independence as the job provided money for dating and gas. It taught me how to be responsible and how important people skills are in order to work with others. It also motivated me to continue my education and get a degree. 

These are lessons that many of today’s younger generation have not mastered. Many of today’s youth have no idea what it’s like to work for what they have. To answer to someone else who doesn’t accept excuses for being late or not doing the job right. 

Every job I ever had, and I’ve had my share, taught me something. In high school and college, I not only worked at a lumber yard, but I also worked construction with Brown & Root, unloaded box trucks for a shipping company at 4 a.m. each day, lined fields and kept the books for Dixie Youth games every night and was an engineer’s assistant for the Texas Highway Department.  

Each one of these job opportunities taught me a lot. But the most important lesson I learned was accountability, which is an important ingredient for being successful in life. So, if you’re looking for a purpose in life, maybe you need to get a job!

Pulling up to the gas pump has started to feel less like a routine stop and more like a scene straight out of a horror movie. You swipe your card, start fueling up, and suddenly—there it is—the total climbing faster than you can look away. At $100 and still rising, it’s the kind of moment that makes you question every decision that led you to that pump. The real twist? No jump scare soundtrack needed—just the quiet panic of watching the numbers roll. And honestly, the caption says it best: “Based on a true story.”

Language is an art—and marriage is the gallery where half the paintings are hung upside down. Words have two lives: denotation (the dictionary version) and connotation (the emotional baggage they bring to the party). The trouble starts when two people bring different baggage handlers.

“Five minutes.”
In the male dictionary, that phrase is a stopwatch: exactly 300 seconds. In the female dictionary, it’s a flexible time zone that expands to accommodate eyeliner, the perfect earrings, and a last-minute dishwasher triage. So when the husband asks, “When will you be ready?” and the wife says, “Five minutes,” the husband hears a sprint; the wife hears a scenic detour. Either way, the car ride will include an argument about whether “on time” is a suggestion or a felony.

“Nothing.”
When a man says he’s thinking “nothing,” he’s not being evasive—he’s blissfully blank. His mental whiteboard is clean; life is a hammock and the brain is on vacation. When a woman says “nothing,” it’s a covert operations briefing: plans, feelings, timelines, and a five-year contingency plan all wrapped in two syllables. If your wife says “nothing,” consider it a red flag, a smoke signal, and a call to the nearest counselor—preferably one who accepts emergency margaritas.

The sigh.
A man’s sigh is a victory horn: lawn mowed, fish filleted, deer rack admired—mission accomplished. A woman’s sigh is a forensic report: it catalogs your idiocy, timestamps it, and files it under “Do Not Repeat.” Keep making her sigh and you’ll graduate from “nothing” to “we need to talk” faster than you can say “remote control.”

“Go ahead.”
For men, “go ahead” is a green light, a verbal thumbs-up. For women, it’s a dare wrapped in sarcasm: “Go ahead—explain why buying that thing is a brilliant idea.” If she says “go ahead” about the expensive purchase, treat it like a landmine: do not, under any circumstances, step on it.

Words trip us up because we’re using the same language with different subtitles. That’s why marriage counselors get paid—either that or they’re masochists who enjoy listening to couples argue about the semantics of socks.

And then there’s the one place where subtitles aren’t needed: the message of love and forgiveness. The Bible puts it simply: “And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” Even in the messiest gallery of human communication, that message hangs in plain view—no translation required.

Each year on April 1, pranksters around the world embrace a day dedicated to practical jokes, hoaxes and harmless mischief. While the exact origins of April Fools’ Day remain debated, historians trace its roots back several centuries.

One popular theory links the tradition to 16th-century France. When the country shifted from the Julian calendar to the Gregorian calendar in 1582 under Pope Gregory XIII, New Year’s Day moved from late March to January 1. Those who continued celebrating the old New Year in early spring were reportedly mocked as “April fools.”

Over time, the tradition of playful deception spread across Europe and eventually to North America. Newspapers, radio stations and television networks have long joined the fun, publishing elaborate hoaxes on April 1.

In 1957, the BBC famously aired a segment about Swiss farmers harvesting spaghetti from trees — a prank that reportedly fooled thousands of viewers. Tech companies have also embraced the tradition, occasionally announcing outlandish fake products to entertain audiences.

While April Fools’ Day is generally lighthearted, experts advise keeping pranks safe and harmless. The best April 1 jokes are those that leave everyone laughing — not confused or hurt.

Today, social media amplifies the reach of April Fools’ jokes, allowing pranks to travel worldwide in seconds. From fake celebrity announcements to imaginary product launches, April 1 continues to blur the line between fact and fiction.

So as the calendar turns, readers may want to double-check headlines, confirm surprising announcements and approach the day with a healthy dose of skepticism.

After all, on April 1, not everything is quite what it seems.

People have dreamed about coasting back to Earth from great heights from at least the 1470s when Italian Francesco di Giorgio Martini designed a cone-shaped canopy parachute.  It is the oldest known design for a parachute.  In 1485, Leonardo da Vinci designed a pyramid-shaped parachute.  For the following 300 years, several inventors, including Frenchman Louis-Sebastien Lenormand in 1783, jumped from trees to test their own parachutes, but none of their designs really worked as expected.       

In 1797, André-Jacques Garnerin attached a parachute he designed to a hydrogen balloon in a test in Paris, France.  When the balloon reached an altitude of about 3,200 feet, Garnerin parachuted safely back to the ground and became the first person to design and test a parachute capable of slowing a person’s fall from a high altitude.  Two years later, his wife became the first female parachutist.  In 1802, Garnerin made a safe parachute jump in a demonstration in England from an altitude of 8,000 feet.  101 years later, in December 1903, the Wright Brothers made history with the first powered, controlled, and sustained flight in a heavier-than-air machine at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina.  In the following years, human flight became popular.  Pilots were seen as heroes and daredevils.  Pilots understood that if their airplanes failed during flight, the chances of survival were slim.  They recognized the need for a way to escape from a doomed aircraft and saw the life-saving potential of parachutes.  On March 1, 1912, during an exhibition in St. Louis, Missouri, parachutist Albert Berry jumped from an airplane flown by another pilot at an altitude of 1,500 feet.  He made a safe landing and became the first person to successfully parachute from a moving airplane.          

Parachutes eventually became standard equipment for airplane pilots after World War I.  They worked well for pilots of propeller driven aircraft and jet aircraft up to a point.  On October 14, 1947, Air Force test pilot Chuck Yeager flew an experimental Bell X-1 jet around 785 miles per hour and became the first human to break the sound barrier.  Eight years later, in February 1955, test pilot George Smith was flying an experimental jet over the Pacific Ocean when the jet malfunctioned.  Unable to regain control, George had to bail out.  The only problem was that he was flying faster than the speed of sound and no one had ever ejected from an aircraft traveling at that speed.  George knew that staying in the jet meant certain death, so he made the split-second decision and ejected.  The force of the wind hitting him knocked him unconscious, but his parachute automatically opened.  He landed in the water near a fishing boat crewed by a former U.S. Navy rescue expert.  George remained unconscious for five days.  When he awoke, he was blind in both eyes.  George’s recovery required numerous surgeries and a seven-month hospital stay.       

The U.S. Air Force immediately began working to solve the problem of parachuting from a supersonic jet.  After seven years of testing, Air Force scientists created an escape capsule for a supersonic jet.  On March 21, 1962, a flyer with the call sign “Yogi” ejected from a jet flying at about 870 miles per hour, 1.3 times the speed of sound.  The parachute on the capsule opened as expected.  Yogi landed successfully and became the first flyer to safely parachute from a jet traveling at supersonic speed.  But Yogi was no ordinary human.  He was not human.  The flyer with the call sign “Yogi” was a two-year-old black bear.       

Sources:

1.     “First parachute jump is made over Paris,” March 4, 2010, History.com, accessed March 22, 2026, https://www.history.com/this-day-in-history/october-22/the-first-parachutist.

2.     “March 1, 1912, This Day in Aviation, accessed March 22, 2026, https://www.thisdayinaviation.com/tag/albert-berry/.

3.     “February 26, 1955,” This Day in Aviation, accessed March 22, 2026, https://www.thisdayinaviation.com/tag/george-franklin-smith/.

4.     “March 21, 1962,”  This Day in Aviation, accessed March 22, 2026,  https://www.thisdayinaviation.com/21-march-1962/.

5.     David Cenciotti, “A bear named ‘Yogi’ was ejected from a USAF B-58 to test the Hustler’s escape capsule on this day in 1962,” March 21, 2016, The Aviationist, accessed March 22, 2026, https://theaviationist.com/2016/03/21/b-58-ejects-yogi-bear/.

It’s barely spring, and it already feels like summer showed up early. Around here, people aren’t just noticing—it’s becoming the main topic of conversation.

Even the jokes are writing themselves. Crawfish might as well be saying they’re “boiling before the pot now.”

All humor aside, the early heat has folks doing double takes at the calendar and wondering what the rest of the season has in store.

When I was a little boy, keys were my thing. Not toys. Not marbles. Not baseball cards. Keys. Real, metal, grownup keys—the kind that clinked in your pocket and made you feel like you had access to the universe.

And I had a source.

My grandfather—Pop—was a policeman. And apparently in the 1960s, Americans were losing keys at a rate that can only be described as “biblical.” Pop would bring me bags of keys. Now, I’m sure it was only three or four at a time, but to my young eyes it looked like Fort Knox had sprung a leak.

I had a ritual. A system. A liturgy of keys.

• House keys over here
• Car keys over there
• Mystery keys (the ones that looked like they opened secret government bunkers) in a special pile

Back then, every car company had its own key design. Ford keys looked like Ford keys. GM keys looked like GM keys. Chrysler keys looked like they were designed on a Friday afternoon. And because Ford also made Mercury, their keys were cousins—interchangeable in shape, though not in function. You could slip a Mercury key into a Ford ignition, but it wasn’t supposed to turn.

Supposed to.

One Friday night, Pop dropped off a fresh batch of keys. I sorted them with the precision of a jeweler. Then I grabbed a couple of Mercury keys and headed outside for what I can only describe as unauthorized field research.

I climbed into our 1961 Ford Galaxie—bench seat, steering wheel the size of a hula hoop, and an ignition switch that sat right on the dashboard like it was daring you to try something foolish.

I inserted a Mercury key.
It fit.
But it didn’t turn.

I inserted another Mercury key.
It fit.
It didn’t turn.

Then came key number three.

I slid it in, gave it a twist, and—VROOOOM—the Ford Galaxie roared to life like it had been waiting all day for a small child to hotwire it. Naturally, I followed the adult pattern I had observed:

I pulled the column shifter down into “D.”

“D” meant go.

And go it did.

The car lurched forward and traveled a majestic, triumphant five feet straight into the side of the house. The dent remained for forty years, a permanent historical marker commemorating the beginning of my illustrious driving career.

The adults poured out of the house like a fire drill—Mom, Dad, and Pop the policeman.

“How did you start the car?” they asked.

I explained my key-based methodology. Pop immediately cut off my Ford key supply.

I still had a large collection of GM keys, though, and Pop owned a Chevrolet. I had a whole testing plan ready for that vehicle. Sadly, my research program was shut down before Phase Two.

Jesus has given us the keys to the Kingdom—and unlike my Mercury Ford experiment, these keys actually belong to us, they always fit, and they never cause property damage.

You’re not locked out.
You’re not stuck in “Park.”
You don’t have to hotwire your way into grace.

The astonishing truth is this:

In Christ, you already hold the keys.

Keys to freedom.
Keys to forgiveness.
Keys to hope.
Keys to a life that actually goes somewhere.

And unlike that 1961 Ford Galaxie, you won’t crash into the side of the house when you use them.

Jesus hands you the keys and says, “Go ahead. Turn the ignition. Live. Move. Be free.”

That’s a Kingdom worth driving toward.

With over 30 years of bass tournament experience, I know that every bass angler that wets a hook has one goal in mind when they enter a tournament — win! While we all strive to bring winning sacks to the scales, the stars do not always align and allow that to happen. 

My background as an athlete has proven to be beneficial when it comes to the mental side of tournament bass fishing. The “never give up” mentality is so important as a tournament angler. 

Playing on a Texas state championship high school baseball team was one of my greatest accomplishments as an athlete. Twice during that special run in 1978, our backs were to the wall, but we never gave up and persevered on our way to winning it all. 

We never panicked no matter what the situation was. We stayed strong and committed to each other, making sure things went our way. Tournament bass fishing is no different. There will be days when things just don’t go the way you thought they would.  

But the guys who have a strong mindset, and the “never give up” attitude, seem to always find a way to put fish in the boat. Even if they don’t catch the winning fish, they still make a good showing. 

One of my recent trips to Lake of the Pines brought me so much joy — eventually! It began when the fish I found in practice just did not pan out. Oh, I had lots of excuses as to why they did not bite, but to sum it up, I just did not catch them. 

At 10:30 that tournament morning, I did not have a fish in the boat. I had caught a few, but none that would reach the 14-inch minimum. But I did not panic as I felt the fish would bite a little better in the afternoon due to the full moon we were fishing under. 

I finally put three fish in the boat between 10:30 and noon and then decided to move out of the area where I had found quality fish during practice. There was so much fishing pressure on the lake, I was sure that a lot of the fish I had found the day before had been caught. 

So, I pulled up on a point and made a long cast, and low and behold I caught a solid 3-pounder! I’m thinking, “hmmm, this is a good sign and maybe there’s a good school of bass on this point.” Sure enough, it was loaded with good keeper-size fish including a 5-pounder that threw my bait back to me on one particular cast. 

I anchored down on this spot and for three hours I began to catch over 35 bass off this one point. It was a day you don’t have all the time as an angler and even though I did not catch the winning bag, I had an awesome day on the water and enjoyed a trip I will never forget!

I’m wondering if age has anything to do with how I think now as an angler. At 65 years old, winning tournaments is just not as high on my priority list as it used to be. Oh, I’m still competitive and want to beat the pants off all these young bucks, but then there’s reality.  

But one thing I can say for myself, no matter how much longer I continue to fish bass tournaments, my desire to compete and win will never wane. I just have to remember; it’s not always about winning.