Edmond P. DeRousse's Blog

It had only been a month since Bill Langley arrived in town and started courting Lizzy Smith, the daughter of a well-respected Cheyenne businessman. A month later they were married in secret. Mr. Smith knew they were spending a great deal of time together, and he sensed they were getting emotionally close. His daughter was prone to making quick decisions once her mind was made up, so their secret marriage did not come as a surprise.

But the marriage came with other secrets. Lizzy married a Texas outlaw, and she was carrying his child. The two had plans to share their news with the Cheyenne community but circumstance intervened.

Lizzy’s father had been made aware of Langley’s outlaw past before they were married. “Bill Langley’s past is just that!”, she told her father. “And our future is solid!”

Mr. Smith trusted his daughter’s instincts and she trusted her husband, even after her husband left Cheyenne, with a posse in pursuit. Lizzy’s father understood a woman’s instinct. Before he had met his wife, Smith had a questionable past and overcame it because of a woman.

But the town was not so trusting. And they had reason. The Bank of Cheyenne had been robbed and Bill Langley had been seen high tailing away from the town with the gang of thieves who tried to rob it.

The town had been thrown into chaos; people were scurrying around ducking bullets and dodging horses. But not Lizzy. She stood in the middle of the street watching her husband gallop away.

Amidst the chaos, the townspeople watched Langley split from his gang, ride back to Lizzy, yell something to her, then make a fast get away out of town. Lizzy was left alone in the street. She had been seen romancing the outlaw. Lizzy Smith had become an immediate outcast.

Until that moment her future was bright. She had a man she loved, a man that loved her, and a baby on the way.  The bank was robbed, and he was riding away with the men who obviously did it.   Did it all just gallop away out of town?

“I had to Lizzy. They told me they’d kill you if I didn’t!” Then he galloped away amid the flying bullets.

What did he mean?

Lizzy was numb to the commotion around her. Her father suddenly appeared beside her, grabbed her by the arms, and pulled her to safety.

The secret about Langley’s outlaw past had been uncovered. It didn’t seem to matter that the bad man had turned his life around and his new wife was responsible for it. The evidence pointing toward her husband being involved in that bank robbery was substantial.

She would have to find a way to live without him.

Edmond P. DeRousse, Author of

Check out my work on:   

You Tube: Ed DeRousse Common Man Adventures

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www.storystar.com  Ed DeRousse

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Do horses have a personality?

Indeed, they emphatically do!

A fact proven definitely

By equestrian creatures I know.

Emirah, She’s the diva, there is no doubt.

She knows you know she knows.

To grace you is her right.

But only if she decrees it so.

Aztec, He is the good o’ boy sure enough.

There is not much that worries him.

Just give him food and reward.

His task he’ll gladly do.

Serefina, The young attractive female,

Will get familiar with the boys.

And disruption she will cause.

But doesn’t even care.

Danny, No amount of prodding,

Will make it happen sooner.

For the task, it is already known

So, time belongs to him.

Bella, She is the one checking out the way,

But not from fear of something bad,

But for that unexpected entity unseen by others,

Somewhere along the wooded trail.

DB Najeim, He proudly proclaims,

“Mr. Stud is my name!

Why just have a boy,

When you can have a man!”

And just like the humans we all know,

Our horses’ manners are on display,

For you and me and everyone to see,

Exactly just like you and me!

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As I enter the family room, I can feel my heart beating faster. If this is a dream, I’m in, it’s about to turn creepier. What am I gonna’ see when I look out that window? Will I be staring back at the face of some predator peeking in the window to see if anyone is home?  Perhaps it’s that Jason character?

I wish my mind wouldn’t do that!  Especially on missions like this.

Now is the time to really gather up all the courage I can muster………..

A flash of light suddenly filled the windowpane. My heart jumped into my throat. Was that the face of Jason I saw in that flash of light?

How come I never noticed that lightening before? Come on now, Ed, just because you saw “Friday the 13th” last night doesn’t mean Jason is real. This has got to be a dream.

“Get yourself together!” I say to myself.

I press my face against the windowpane to get a better look at what’s outside. A longer look this time reveals a different eerie scene. The moon is absent in the night sky. The clouds look heavy and ominous. The wind is gusting. The trees appear to be stretching their limbs in a 45 degree angle. I can hear drops of water splatting against the window screen.

The good news is, I saw no Jason, or anything human, animal, or monster looking. It’s just a bad storm so, obviously, I’m not dreaming.

Off in the distance, I see a faint lightning bolt.

Suddenly, I hear what sounds like fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. The thought momentarily crept back in. ‘Jason!!’

Another look; I see the same moonless sky and tree branches still bending in the gusting wind. I can’t see the source of the scratching, though. That means a trip outside to get a closer look.

I grab my raincoat from the closet, find my old pair of slip on shoes, and head out to the back porch and into the chilly air.

There it is again — scratching… and the tapping… and the sound of a dog barking, perhaps more of a whimper.

Without thinking, I scan the back yard for the spot where I buried our dog. I buried Sandy out there last year. Is she still in her grave? 

Cheez, Ed! What’s the matter with you? I know it’s the day after Halloween, but this is stupid.

Another flash of light!  A little closer this time. Every hair on my body feels charged with electricity. My body is tingling. Is it from the electrically charged air or from anticipation of what I fear may be coming in the next few seconds.

Another brief splash of light reveals that nothing has changed. There’s still no moon. Those clouds are still huge ominous puffs in the sky. The rain drops aren’t as big as I thought, though. There are just millions of them hitting the ground. It looks like a lake out there. The rain drops appear to be coming straight down like the blade of a guillotine. 

The words, “It was a dark and stormy night” pop into my mind. Is this what the author of those words wants his readers to actually feel?

There are those noises again.

The metal shed, it’s in the back yard. That must be the source of the scratchy sound.

Standing on the edge of the porch didn’t help me see it. I stick my uncovered head out from under the cover of the porch and look toward the shed. 

Another flash of lightening! 

Ow! Ow! Ow! Why didn’t I think about how much a million drops of rain hitting my head would hurt?

The brief look gives me enough of an opportunity to survey the terrain.

The large oak tree next to the shed is now covering the metal building. What a relief that is! I don’t have to deal with it until daylight. Case solved.

But what about that barking dog? Why is it barking?

Reluctantly, I pull my rain coat tighter and head out into the rain. The water from my newly formed lake covers my shoes. My pajama bottoms immediately stick to my legs. The rain pelts my head. It feels like I’m being stung by a swarm of bees. Undaunted, I go on to the sound of the barking dog.

What happens next is totally unexpected and unwanted.

The dog, a stray I’ve never seen before, works itself free from the fallen branches and scampers off.

I should be happy about that. Not me. I had risked my life, limb, and the threat of Jason to see what was happening here.

After all I just went through; it would be nice to tell the story of how I heroically rescued a wounded animal in the middle of a dangerous thunderstorm.

Now all I have to look forward to is going back into the house and trying to give my wife some plausible story as to why I’m so wet.

O! How I wish this would have been a dream! It would have been more rewarding.

You Don’t Have To Be Rich And Famous To Have Adventures!

The post Dark and Stormy Night!    The Discovery! appeared first on Edmond P. DeRousse.

Tap, Tap, Tap.  Was all I heard, ever so softy at first. It’s only a dream. I’ll just open my eyes to my familiar bedroom surroundings, then close them and go back to sleep.  I’ve had bad dreams before. Sometimes I remember them. Sometimes I don’t. Lately, though, when the bad dreams come it seems all I have to do is tell myself to open my eyes and they go away – never to return. This time will be no different.

I open my eyes and blink a couple of times.  It feels like I am awake but I’m never sure until I check my surroundings. First, I must locate the bedroom door. I sleep on my back so that process is not difficult. It just requires a turn of the head to my left.

Just like all the other times before, subdued darkness engulfs me. Our bedroom is never in complete darkness because the hallway night-light gives a glow of light to the room.  A little light always creeps in, especially since my wife insists, we keep the bedroom door open. That subtle lighting makes it easier for me to orient my mind to the surroundings as I wake from one of those dreams.

 Once I find the bedroom door, my eyes adjust, and my mind starts analyzing the surroundings. First, it locates the bathroom door across the hallway. Searching, I see my wife’s dresser and the window. Once I locate the window my mind nudges me awake enough to recognize that I am in my own home and no longer in the land of make believe.

But something’s different this time. Those noises that woke me haven’t stopped. What was I hearing and where are they coming from? I turn to look at my wife. Is she breathing? I can see her chest moving. I take comfort in that.

I don’t want to wake her. No sense alarming her now. I roll onto my back and take a deep breath and hold it. I need to be sure it wasn’t my own breathing I heard.

Tap, Tap, Tap. 

“What is that noise?” I whisper. ‘It doesn’t sound like someone trying to break in. I’ll lie here a little longer and try to figure out where it’s coming from.

Sounds like a dog.

It can’t be. Sandy died last year.

But yet, I know I heard a dog bark.’

My brain always functions at a diminished capacity when awakened unexpectedly in the middle of the night. I take in another breath and hold it. I have to be absolutely sure I am hearing those noises and not dreaming them.

TAP! TAP! TAP!  

“OK! That’s real! I am not dreaming!”  I whisper. ‘I really do have to check it out now.’

As quietly as I can, I slide out from between the bed sheets and place first one foot then the other on the floor. I sit on the edge of the bed for a while to ensure my brain can function well enough to handle foot movement.

Now where’d that noise come from? I’ll check the family room. If it is someone trying to break in, it won’t be from the front of the house… Too much light.

It is during times like this when I appreciate our ranch style house. Not a whole lot of corners to negotiate in the middle of the night when I’m not fully mental. I’ll walk down the hallway to the kitchen, turn right, and walk about ten steps to the family room. I can do that in my sleep. No problem.

Walking down the hallway, I hear a different noise. It sounds like someone scratching on a window. It’s coming from the family room I think. I must be still dreaming. That scratching sounds just like something I’d hear in a scary movie.

As I enter the family room, I can feel my heart beating faster. If this is a dream, I’m in, it’s about to turn creepier. What am I gonna’ see when I look out that window? Will I be staring back at the face of some predator peeking in the window to see if anyone is home?  Perhaps it’s that Jason character?

I wish my mind wouldn’t do that!  Especially on missions like this.

Now is the time to really gather up all the courage I can muster………………….…

What does he see when he looks out that window?  The answer in the next blog.

The post Dark and Stormy Night!    The Awakening! appeared first on Edmond P. DeRousse.

I am blessed to be of good health

Ability still I do possess

To do the things of bygone days

Nearly seven decades have come to pass.

It was the 1st of March in Southern Illinois.

Beautiful, Sunny, and 75 degrees.

Grand Kids came for a visit, you see.

And I climbed a tree today.

We played outdoors.

The tree was there!

They had never climbed a tree before.

And I got tempted!

“What a shame”, I thought!

So, I challenged them to climb.

The challenge was accepted.

Their way I helped them find.

They got stuck.

I got warned!

They laughed and grunted.

And I got reminded.

Sixty years it’s been,

Since last I climbed a tree.

I climbed it anyway.

And I thought, “O! What fun this is!”

Ascending a tree

I still can do.

Tomorrow a chiropractor I may see?

But still, I climbed a tree today.

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In the early days of ranching, northern landowners relied on ditches and hedges to mark property lines and control stock. In Texas, some stockmen employed wooden fences and others ranged cattle on open lands. Joseph Glidden, an Illinois resident, would change that with his invention of barbed wire. His invention played an important role in how America was settled and shaped. Barbed wire, along with the Colt pistol and the railroad is most often listed as one of the three main factors in how the West was won.

The landscape of American frontier was wide open. The Homestead Act of 1862 opened millions of acres of the Western United States to new settlers. That land with its tall, tough grass was suitable for nomadic life of the Native Americans, not settlers. It was vast and uncharted when the settlers and cowboys arrived. With them came herds of cattle roaming free over the endless plains.

The need to establish boundaries became evident as more settlers arrived. Ranchers and settlers needed a way to maintain their lands and to keep their herds in and the unwanted elements out. The farmers needed something to protect their crops from free-roaming cattle and bison. Wooden fencing was not a viable option. The American desert was lacking in trees. Because of that, wooden fences were expensive and were susceptible to fires.

Some farmers tried to grow thorn-bush hedges. Thorny hedges would provide effective barriers to cattle, but planting thousands of miles of bushes was not practical. Prickly vegetation grew too slowly.

Other resourceful settlers experimented with wire. Simple wire fences had some advantages. They were light, inexpensive, and easy to put up. Snow would not pile up against them and wind would not blow them down. But a lush green pasture placed between a 1,000-pound Texas longhorn and a wire fence proved to be no match for the wire fence. That was a task very difficult to accomplish. Until the invention of barbed wire. A spiky fence seemed to be the answer.

Hundreds of entrepreneurs from across the country rushed to create a new type of fencing. 

In 1867, the first recorded type of fencing with defensive points or barbs, named “The Picketed Strip”, was created by Alphonso Dabb. It was designed to attach to existing fence. It was not successful. 

Another attempt was made by Lucien B. Smith. His “thorny wire” was a normal wire fence hung with wooden spools hammered with nails.  It also was not successful.

In 1871 Lyman P. Judson named his projecting metal points “barbs”. Although the term stuck his design did not.

The barbs in those early designs had to be clamped to their wire individually by hand. It was a slow, tedious and often painful process. Lightning proved to be a big problem. The barbs were not firmly held in place and when lightning struck the fence the barbs would often run together and fuse into a melted lump. Stretches of fence would be barb free.

In 1874 Jacob Haish patented a type of double stranded barbed wire. With his wire a barb could be mechanically placed on one wire with another wire twisted around it to hold the barb in place. Unfortunately for him, though, Joseph Glidden from DeKalb, Illinois had the same idea at the same time. They both had invented a simple design for the barbed wire we know today.

The two men became entwined in a battle for the patent. Glidden was declared the winner and began branding his design eventually becoming one of the richest men in America.

Glidden came up with his idea for barbed wire from a county fair he attended. He had seen a demonstration that showed a wooden rail with sharp nails, protruding from its sides. The nails were hanging inside a smooth wire fence. Glidden made his improvements to it and in 1874 was granted the patent for his barbed wire.

Isaac L. Ellwood, a DeKalb hardware store owner bought a one-half interest in Joseph Glidden’s barbed wire patent for $265.  The two soon formed a partnership. Together they founded the Barb Fence Company of DeKalb and began manufacturing their product. In their first year, only 10,000 pounds of barbed wire was produced, mostly by hand.  

By the end of their first year in business, their company had built its first factory. Glidden created a machine to mechanize the barbing of the wire. As a result, more than 600,000 pounds of barbed wire was manufactured. By 1879, fifty million pounds of barbed wire were being produced annually. Glidden’s wire was so popular because it was cheap to manufacture, and relatively inexpensive to purchase. It changed the landscape of the American frontier. 

Before barbed wire, communal grazing and long cattle drives were the norm. But barbed wire and its ability to parcel off land, legally owned or not, led to heated and sometimes violent disputes in the American Southwest. Some large landowners took advantage of the new invention and used it to claim prime grazing lands and a few significant watering holes for their herds.

Consequently, disputes known as range wars developed between free-range ranchers and farmers. The ranches needed vast amount of land on which to run their cattle. As a preventative measure farmers used barbed wire fences to keep cattle out of their cornfields.

The small farmers and ranchers who were fenced in began cutting the fences. Bands of cutters were threatening bands of fencers. Lincoln County, New Mexico and Johnson County, Wyoming were perhaps where the most violent confrontations took place. The disputes were eventually settled in court in favor of the farmers resulting in heavy penalties for cutting fences.

Nearly all the open range, within 25 years of its introduction, had been fenced in under private ownership. Many historians attribute the invention of barbed and its widespread use as ending the Old West era of American history. It essentially put an end to the long cattle drives making the occupation of cowboy obsolete. Some say it was this invention that tamed the “Wild West”.

Some Barbed TriviaAccording to Atlas, the U.S. Patent Office processed more than 200 different patents for various types of “spiked fencing” between 1867 and 1874.In 1876 Glidden “retired” from manufacturing by selling his half of the business to Washburn and Moen but retained royalties. The Glidden Barbed Wire company evolved into American Steel and Wire and eventually was incorporated into the U.S. Steel Manufacturing Company of today.La Crosse, Kansas, population 1,289, is obsessed with barbed wire. It plays host to the annual Kansas Barbed Wire Collectors Association Swap and Sell, and the World Champion Barbed Wire Splicing Contest. It is a timed event in which contestants try and repair a stretch of snapped wire.Gildden’s barbed wire was heavily promoted by a man named John Warne “Bet A Million” Gates. Gates would round up some of, in his words, “the toughest and wildest longhorn steers in all of “Texas” and place them inside a fence with barbed wire. Gates would pen the bulls up and then take bets from spectators as to whether or not the seemingly flimsy barbed wire could restrain the beasts. The spectators quickly lost any bet they placed because the wire fence didn’t fall over even when a cowboy charged at the cattle, a fiery hot brand clenched in each hand.

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Shawn had purchased the cabin two months ago. He and his wife had become empty nesters. Investing in a vacation home seemed to be the next step in their life.   Shawn had purchased the property sight unseen. He took a virtual tour. His realtor had included information and photos of the cabin when it was new and what it looked like in its present state.

When I asked Shawn why he bought this cabin, he said “The price was right!”

 His family had grown up and out of his home. Shawn and his wife now had the opportunity. I was invited to help him get it ready for his family.

 The cabin was in an isolated wooded area several miles from the nearest town and had sat empty for years. The previous owners had big plans for the cabin and had just moved in. That was twenty years ago. The family has not been seen or heard from since.   

There are many rumors about what happened at that place. Some say it was a visit from Jason. Some say it was a mysterious flesh-eating bacterium that found its way into the house. Still others talk about man-eating spiders.

Shawn was my friend, and I was confident he did the research on history of the cabin. So, I agreed to help him get his cabin ready for his family.

            It was near dark when we arrived and too late to do anything but survey the building.

 The place was overgrown with vegetation. But the building itself looked to be in decent shape considering how long it sat vacant. The structure reminded me of the Cartwright’s home from the Bonanza TV show.

After clearing away vegetation and the massive spider web covering the door, Shawn and I entered. At least the place had power. Shawn, obviously, had it turned on before we arrived. The room we entered was a giant open-concept area. We could see separate kitchen, dining, and family areas. The family area had a large stone fireplace. The next few minutes were spent accessing the work to do. The cabin still had most of the previous resident’s furniture.

Tomorrow was going to be a long day. 

We would be spending a couple nights in the great room. It had a couple recliners and a rather large couch. The television still worked but our programing choices were rather limited. No cable only the stations the antenna would provide. And that was patchy.

            We did, though, find a station showing a classic 50s Sci-fi horror movie called Tarantula. Actually, it was the only watchable option available. So we settled in with beers in hand. Shawn took the couch, and I settled into a recliner.

            I think I may have had a problem with the three beers I drank and the giant meat-eating spider from outer space I was watching.

            When the movie was over, Shawn spread his sleeping bag out on the couch and turned out the light. He was snoring a very few minutes later.

            But not me. I had concerns! A few hours earlier, I had seen a vacant spider web at the door’s entrance. The alcohol and the spider movie were quite possibly affecting me.

The cabin was dark and quiet. My mind began to reflect on that empty web. Where was the spider? The web I saw looked recently vacated. Could its resident be looking for something? At least with the quiet, I believed I could hear its approach. Boy! The mind can do terrible things when it becomes altered!

            Reluctantly, I feel asleep.

            I awoke to the sounds of scratching. The sounds seemed to be coming from the couch. They were muffled, barely audible. Or at least, that’s what my sleepy brain was telling my ears they were hearing. I was facing the fireplace, so I couldn‘t be sure of what I thought I was hearing. I had to find out, so I turned toward the sounds. My heart stopped instantly.

            I couldn’t help myself. I screamed like a banshee. What was left of Shawn was being sucked up into that giant spider’s mouth.

            I somewhat regained my composure. I needed to think. Rescuing my friend was out of the question, now. To survive, I had to get out of there as quietly and quickly as possible. Hopefully, it wouldn’t see me and come after me.

            But, my hopes were shattered. It was headed straight for me, a foot dangling from that thing’s mouth.

            There was no way I could escape. No where to go!

            I froze. I remember thinking, “This is really it. I’m going to die. What is death going to be like?”

            A sticky leg from that freak spider was reaching for me. It would be just an instant now.

            Suddenly my eyes popped open. It was pitch black, but yet I knew my eyes were open. My body was moving from side to side. I felt a hand pushing me from side to side. “Could it be Shawn’s? Are we in the spider’s belly?”

            Then I heard what sounded like a man’s voice. It was barely audible.  I couldn’t make out what he said, at first. But it sounded like “Are you OK?”

            The pushing continued

            Then very quickly, everything came together. I heard Shawn, emphatically, but with great concern, say, “Pete, Are you OK? Wake up, Pete. You must be dreaming!”

            Whew!! It was only a dream. But I wasn’t so sure I wanted to admit that to my buddy. The middle of the night was not the time to deal with the razzing the admission would bring on. And Shawn enjoyed razzing.

            What do you do in a moment like that? Do you lie and say “Nothing’s wrong. You must be mistaken!” Do you tell the truth? “Yea man, I had a nightmare.” Or maybe you explain it away with some kind of plausible deniability. “It was all that beer, man. It made me have a bad dream.”

            I chose plausible deniability.

            My explanation was accepted. Shawn admitted the beer must have had an effect on him as well. I doubt, though, he had the same problems with his sleep. We talked a few more minutes and he went back to his couch. Snoring soon followed.

The post Shawn’s Cabin appeared first on Edmond P. DeRousse.

In 2016 I wrote an article for Horse & Rider magazine about my entry into the equestrian world at age 63.  I lost Aztec, the horse described in the article, in 2019. Because of Aztec, I got hooked on equestrian life. I am still riding and now competing at age 73. It is never too late to have adventures.

Here is the article as it appeared in Horse & Rider.

Horsemanship, 60 & Over

Learning to ride in your 60s poses unique challenges, but nothing you can’t overcome—with the right attitude.

September 16, 2016 ⎯ HorseRider

I began taking riding lessons at age 63. I’ve discovered learning to ride a horse isn’t as simple as learning to ride, say, a bike. You must master how to sit and how to keep your balance—that much is like the bike. But you must also learn how to position and coordinate your hands and feet. Plus how to follow the movement. Plus how not to bounce. Plus how all the gear works, not to mention how to interact with the horse. And all of it must be processed in the brain at roughly the same time.

Credit: Photo courtesy of Ed DeRousse The author with Aztec, his rescued gelding.

Often it can seem like me against the horse, me against the trainer, or me against me. Sometimes separately. Sometimes all together. It’s a challenge.

Garbage In, Garbage Out

A complicating factor is that I’ve put an awful lot of junk and wrong thinking about horses into my “human processor” over the years. By now my storage bins are pretty full, so stuff has to be deleted before I can put new stuff in. And, believe me, a lot of new stuff needs to get in there as I try to learn to maneuver my horse, Aztec. The fact that my processor doesn’t process as quickly as it once did is also a factor. (That’s my story, anyway, and I’m sticking to it.)

Here’s something else to consider. For those of us who’re no longer youngsters, older muscles seem either to be restricted in their movement or simply don’t respond as quickly. It’s a law of nature.

Brain and brawn are supposed to work together. Communicate with each other. For example, my trainer gives a command. My ears hear it and send the command to my brain. My brain sends it out to the appropriate muscle group. They respond to the command and the maneuver is accomplished.

That, at any rate, is how it’s supposed to work.

Sometimes, though, my brain just gets muddled. My trainer gives a command. My ears hear it and send the command to my brain. My brain sends it out to the appropriate muscle group. The muscle group sends the brain back a message: “Ain’t doin’ that today.” The brain then has to find a workaround. What should’ve been a simple process has gotten clogged. At the same time—and as I’m trying to figure out what went wrong—a new command is on the way.

I complain to my trainer about this sort of thing, and because she’s a good instructor, she finds a way to help me work through it. As a result, my horsemanship skills have actually improved to a surprising degree.

More Challenges

Lately, though, I’ve been dealing with some new mind games. I’m sure the distractions in question have always been there; I just didn’t notice them before. Now that I’m a better rider and have dumped some bad habits, there’s room in my brain to notice and deal with these other things.

For instance, my trainer explains a new maneuver. Because I’m that better rider, I have an easier time multi-tasking. So besides implementing the maneuver, I find myself actually noticing that my trainer is urging me to raise or lower my toe, as well, or to feel what Aztec is “telling” me, or to put my left-cheek pocket deeper in the saddle.

I also hear the other riders (who’re waiting their turn to practice the maneuver) telling each other how good my ride looks—or expressing their concern that I may be about to have an “unplanned dismount.” I can even hear that obnoxious bird chirping somewhere in the arena.

My trainer keeps telling me that with continued practice, I can and will overcome these challenges and distractions. And you know what? She’s right.

Now that I have the benefit of a couple years’ riding experience, I’ve noticed communication between Aztec and me has significantly improved. He understands my body movements better, and I can actually feel his responses to my verbal and physical commands.

And, oh! What fun it is!

Edmond P. DeRousse is a retired educator for the Illinois Department of Corrections. He served seven years in the U.S. Army and worked as an executive for the Boy Scouts of America. After watching his wife having so much fun on her horse, he decided to join in. Aztec, a once-neglected gelding adopted from a rescue ranch, inspired him to write a book about his equestrian adventures.

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Miranda Bury and her film crew

It was very hot Tuesday afternoon.  My wife and I after caring for our horses stopped to eat at a local restaurant and had the opportunity to meet and have a conversation with an up-and-coming future country music star. It was an enjoyable conversation and obviously a rare opportunity for small town USA kid to have.

After our conversation, I used the opportunity to do some self-promotion. I told her I could identify somewhat with her. I told her I was a writer and like her was doing what I could to get the word out about my book business. I handed her and her film crew my business card and gave her information about my social media. I asked the young lady if I could tag her and/or mention her on my own social media. She was ok with it.

I firmly believe that if you are going to use information about someone else, the information used must be accurate. So when I got home, I listened to a few of her songs and wrote about my experience with her and my thoughts on her music. To ensure the accuracy of what I wrote I emailed it to her before posting my experience to Facebook.  She replied with “I absolutely love this!!”

Who knows, maybe she and her associates may read one of my books and share information about me. They seemed truly excited about the fact my latest books were Westerns.

Perhaps the readers of this BLOG could benefit from something in it. The following is what I wrote and promised to share with my readers.

“My wife and I had a late lunch at Tiff’s restaurant in Marissa today. Unbeknownst to us a video was being shot there. The waitress proudly told us that the people in the corner of the restaurant were making a music video. There was no singing because it was the background setting for a music video for Miranda Bury, a Nashville recording singer/songwriter from Marissa.  It was a neat experience to watch the process. The waitress who served us will be seen getting a couple plates from the window to deliver to a table. (Not our table.)

After the filming was completed, I took a chance to see if I could talk with the young singer. I was not sure what to expect. I am sure glad I did. She was very cordial and shared her story.

Miranda told me she started playing the guitar at an early age and started pursuing a singing career around the age of 16. She is a singer who also enjoys writing music. Miranda began singing in various locations around Southern Illinois such as the Bullpen in New Athens and the Gasthaus in Lebanon.

The video she was making at Tiff”s was for her new song she wrote entitled “Home”. The primary background for the song’s video is Bob Heil’s Marissa home. The Heil home and Tiff’s would not be the only Southern Illinois locations.

I prefer country music and was delighted to learn she did too. I took a picture of her and the camera crew. (One of them had to be coaxed to be included in the photo). I turned down the opportunity to get a picture of me with her. (I didn’t want to mess up a picture of her.)

When I got home, I checked out a few of her songs. The stories the songs are about are certainly believable and very well written. My favorites were “Buy Me A Drink” (poor guy trying to buy the drinks) and “Thirteen” (a song of hope for the young teenager). Miranda’s voice was clear, emotional, and beautiful.

She is on her way to finding success in the county music world. By the way. Miranda told me, while looking straight at her videographer, that she expected an August 30 release date. I believe he agreed. “

Check her out:  https://www.facebook.com/mirandaburymusic/

Edmond P. DeRousse, Author

Common

      Man                                                  

               Adventures

You Don’t Have To Be Rich And Famous To Have Adventures

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USS Hunter Liggett

(War Service Dates: June 1941 – March 1946)      

My Uncle, a WWII veteran, does not talk much about his time spent in the war effort. But one day he did share some of his experiences on a troop ship named the USS Hunter Liggett. He did not spend a great amount of time on it. Mostly he was on the ship while being transported from one place to another. It seems all his memories are pleasant.

The Hunter Liggett is not one of those war ships romanticized by Hollywood, so most of us are probably not too familiar with it. Its history, though, has now become personal to me. So here is its story.

Built in 1922 by the Bethlehem Shipbuilding Corp.in Sparrows Point, Md., the Hunter Liggett began its life as a commercial vessel. It sailed for many years as passenger ship before being acquired by the Army and renamed Hunter Liggett (AP-27) in February 1939 after Lt. Gen. Hunter Liggett (1857 – 1935). General Liggett served as General Pershing’s chief of staff as well as the commanding general of First Army and Third Army. 

As a transport vessel it operated from New York to San Francisco and the West Coast to Hawaii. In May 1941 the ship was turned over to the Navy. During WWII the USS Hunter Liggett was assigned to the Asiatic-Pacific Theater. 

In April 1942 the ship and its Coast Guard crew were ordered to the Pacific to take part in the occupation of Guadalcanal after amphibious training and a rehearsal landing in the Koro Islands. Eventually the Hunter Liggett joined up with other ships and sailed for the Solomon Islands. After arriving at Guadalcanal on 6 August 1942, a couple days later she was engaged in air attacks and her gunners shot down several attackers. The assault on the Solomon’s lasted several days. The American Task Force assigned to engagement off Sayo Island suffered heavy losses. The Hunter Liggett and other transports rescued survivors from the battles. 

In October 1942, the Hunter Liggett returned to Guadalcanal loaded with marines. She remained on duty in Guadalcanal for most of the next year.  She carried needed equipment, marines, and Japanese prisoners to and from the embattled island. By the end of year, she had returned to America for much needed repairs.  

In April 1944, the Hunter Liggett began a new career as an amphibious training ship. Her purpose was to teach the lessons learned in the Solomon’s to those assigned to carry out assaults at Leyte, Iwo Jima, Okinawa, and other assault locations.    

By August 1945, victory had been declared in Europe and Japan had surrendered. Military personnel, scattered all over the world, now had to come home. Operation Magic Carpet was the codename of the effort used to bring them home. It began in December 1945 and continued for the next fourteen months. During that period an average of 435,000 military personnel were being transported back from the Pacific every month.

The Hunter Liggett joined the “Magic-Carpet” fleet 10 December 1945. She made voyages to Ulithi, Guam, Pearl Harbor, and Palaus before reporting to Olympia, Wa and returned to the Army on 9 March 1946. The Hunter Liggett was decommissioned on 18 March 1946. On 30 January 1948, she was sold to Boston Metals Company for scrapping.   

Hunter Liggett received four battle stars for its service during WWI. The US Coast Guard Academy in New London, Connecticut continued its legacy by naming Hunter Liggett Avenue after the ship.

The link below is my you-tube video of the ship, which includes some WWII actual video.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swBHBX-F3jY&t=1s

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