Speaking in tongues: Golf and the holidays

I'm not sure anyone today understands the biblical term, "speaking in tongues."  What I believe is that it occurred, and when it happened someone understood.

Not that Sim Sala Bim gibberish that Robert Tilton and Benny Hinn babble that no one understands (although it sounds to me like "show me the money".)

I apparently speak in tongues.  Meaning, I use words I don't know but other people clearly understand.  It happens when playing golf and during the holidays.

Let's say, I've hit a great drive and I have less than 100 yards to the pin.  I pull out a sand wedge and promptly skull it over the green and out of bounds.  I'll typically say then what I say when the GFI circuit powering all of the outdoor lights has blown for the 17th time during the inevitable December rains.  And, the GFI reset is in an outlet in the middle of the garage ceiling.  A garage full of wrapping paper, Amazon boxes to be recycled, a car and furniture that had to be moved for our "minimalist" decorations.  That's when I say something that sounds a lot like, "Cupid mastered."

Imagine it's a chilly, windy day.  I've hit another magnificent drive with the wind on a 525 yard par five.  I've but a four iron to the middle of the green.  Birdie opportunity, eagle possibility.  I shank the four iron two fairways over.  With hands still vibrating (remember, Ben Hogan said "90% of a golf club is the shaft"), I'll typically say then what I say when decorating the tree and I'm putting the angel on top whilst standing on a pitiful two-step ladder and I start leaning too far and I have to grab whatever seems stable to prevent a full face-plant.  That's when I say something like "My mother was a trucker."  (She wasn't, by the way.  She was secretary to the superintendent of Fulton County Schools and a highly respected woman with purple hair well known in East Point, Georgia.)

My most severe golf language issue occurs on the 18th green.  Usually playing my nemesis, Dr. James X. Noble (the only surgeon in the world to perform the rear-entry double lobotomy, a story that has landed us a table without a reservation at many a fine restaurant).  Our bet stands at +1/0/-1.  I have a three foot putt uphill.  He has a 17 foot double breaker over mounds the size of Cass Elliot.  He holes his center cup.  I yank mine 6 inches left and two feet past.  Then, I slap the next one that lips out.  I'll typically say then what I say when I get up to whizz at 4:32 am the day after Christmas and step on a Hot Wheels firetruck left strategically by one of the 97 grandchildren.  That's when I say something that sounds like "Sit on the BENCH".

We had dinner on New Year's Eve with two married couples that are dear old friends.  One of the guys is the kindest, gentlest, most Godly men I've ever met.  We started discussing things that we've learned about our spouses.  He said he never could have imagined the pain and agony of decorating for Christmas.  "The two worst days of the year are when we take them down from the attic and the day we put them up."

I'm pretty sure he has an outbreak of glossolalia on those days as well.

Good Nail Beds

Georgia played Alabama in the SEC Championship game on Saturday.

My granddaughter, Piper, had spent the night before with us after a Friday night at the movies.

I invited Pipes on Thanksgiving to spend the night with us.  "I'd love to, PaPa.  But, of course you know I'll need to paint your nails if I spend the night."

That's what she said.

I'll remember a lot about that Saturday.  

Georgia played great.  Had the lead most of the game.  Some questionable calls from the refs.  The fake punt.  The heartbreak of losing, again, to the Alabama backup quarterback.  All Hail Alabama.  

But, I'll never forget having my nails painted on Saturday morning before the game by Piper.  Georgia red.  Coke red.  Red as it comes.  

My Piper slathered red polish on me like there was no end.  My nails had never been painted before.  They have now been painted and I loved it.

My sweet wife said two things that I will always remember from that day.  When Rodrigo unexpectedly missed a field goal, she said, "That's ok."  She didn't want Rod to feel bad.  She's the ultimate optimist and diplomat.  She doesn't want anyone to feel pain.

And, as she walked past me after my nail job, she said, "Good nail beds, honey."  I still don't know what that means.

Thank you, Piper, for an unforgettable day.  

You make my world a better place.  I hope I can return the favor.

A year from now, let's do it again.  

A downrange Christmas

Downrange in the military refers to personnel who are deployed, usually in a war zone. 

Boots on the ground.  American military personnel on the front lines protecting the United States on the ground, underground, in the air, on the water, under water. 

This Christmas, there will be Americans downrange and away from their families, their friends, their traditions, their favorite foods, their safe and warm places. 

Most of these Americans will be young men and women between 18 and 25 years old.  Many away from home for the first time.  All in a strange and dangerous place, or they wouldn't be there. 

They've all volunteered for this job.  They do our country's dangerous work so that 99% of us don't have to worry about it. 

The Peter Burks Unsung Hero Fund has one mission:  send care packages to deployed American military.

https://unsungherofund.org

We're working on a shipment to arrive in time for Christmas.  We will need to ship everything by November 15 to arrive by Christmas.  Donations are needed by November 2 to make the shipment cutoff.  If you'd like to take part, here's how.


Donate Goods to Ship

Use your imagination and use common sense.  What would young people like if there's not a store nearby?  What will ship over thousands of miles and not spoil, spill or break?

Here are the kinds of things most requested:

-A handwritten note, letter or card

-Salty and spicy snacks

               Beef jerky, Slim Jim's

               Doritos, Cheetos, chips, crackers

-Healthy snacks

               CLIF Bars

               Trail Mix

-Candy that won't melt

-Gatorade powder packets

-New white socks

-Moist wipes

-Baselayer (it’s winter where they are)

-Knit caps

-Warm gloves/mittens

-Oakley or Gatorz Tactical sunglasses

-PlayStation or XBOX consoles and games

-Redvines, Gummi Bears

-Hand sanitizer

-Toothbrushes and toothpaste

-Apple iTunes gift cards

Here's where you can drop off your donations:

Texas Star Bank
320 Preston Road
Celina, TX 75009

Heart's Desire
4760 Preston Road, #200
Frisco, TX 75034
(Next door to Tom Thumb)

Support Your Troops Resale
223 W. Parker Road
Plano, TX 75023

If you're not in the DFW area and want to ship donations, here's the address:

Unsung Hero Fund
1920 Coit Road
Suite 200, #156
Richardson, TX 75080

Donate Money

We always appreciate cash donations.  But, don't cheat yourself from making a personal connection.  Sit down and write a note and send it as well.

To donate money, the information is on the website:

https://unsungherofund.org/contribute-2/


Help us Pack and Ship

The only way care packages get downrange is they have to be packed, a customs form filled out for each box, postage applied and then delivered to the post office. 

We'll be having packing parties in early November.  If you want to help, watch your social media and/or email us at info@unsungherofund.org

Thanks in advance.  Let's make this a special Christmas for folks that wear the Cloth of The Nation.

What Memorial Day means to me

I lost a son in a war.

He went to war to fight for freedom.

Freedom from oppression.  Specifically, radical Islamist oppression.  Those folks would have it one way and it's all their way.

That ain't America.


But, Memorial Day is much bigger than this one fight.

America is a land of freedom.

And, in order to protect our freedom, sometimes, war is the only answer.  If an oppressor of American freedom comes along, our military is there to keep them at bay.

Memorial Day honors the 1.4 million in our history that fought for our freedoms and died in the process.  They gave all for your freedom to think and act however you want.

Freedom means you are free to be who you want to be.  And you are free to become anything you can figure out how to accomplish.

We are the only country in the world that allows this.


I am free to be a professing Christian.

My next door neighbor is free to be an Orthodox Jew.

My next door neighbor is free to be an atheist.

My next door neighbor is free to believe in UFOs.

My best friend can be black or brown or any other color.

My best friends can be gay.


I don't have to agree with any of them on religion or morals.  So long as we all agree that America and our ideals of freedom are what's important.


Our enemy is anyone that wants to reduce our freedoms.

Freedom of worship.

Freedom of assembly.

Freedom of protest.

Freedom of speech.


At Pete's funeral, the folks from Westboro Baptist Church were there proclaiming there spew of hate.  Pete died, as did all of the others, to protect their freedom of speech and assembly.  Odd, disturbing, but true.


America was created by folks that wanted out of tyranny of feudalism and a governing religion.

America was not formed by the Southern Baptist Convention, the Roman Catholic Church or any other one group.

America was formed by folks that wanted to be free.


There's a reason we don't have an official language.  America welcomes all.  It makes life complicated, but that's our program.  All are welcome.

For all of us, let's respect those men and women who died for this idea of freedom.

Take a few minutes on Memorial Day to say thanks for those that have given all.  And, for those who are currently wearing the Cloth of the Nation and willing to give it all.

Why SIXSITE won't be having a Memorial Day Sale

SIXSITE Closing on Memorial Day in Push to Remember Heroes Who Died for Our Freedom

Veteran-owned retailer will go dark on one of the biggest sale days of the year; challenges others to do the same

Dallas (May 1, 2018) – While millions of Americans celebrate Memorial Day as the start of summer, veterans and loved ones of fallen military members wish the holiday that honors more than 1 million people who died serving their country would command more respect.

“In an effort to encourage Americans to spend time thinking about these sacrifices, we won’t be having a Memorial Day sale,” SIXSITE founder, designer and veteran U.S. Navy SEAL Stephen Holley says. “In fact, our website will go dark on Memorial Day. We hope other retailers will follow.”

SIXSITE is a high-performance hunting and outdoor apparel and gear provider. It manufactures its products exclusively in America. To keep prices reasonable, SIXSITE sells direct-to-consumer at www.sixsitegear.com, but on this major shopping day its online store will go dark.

Alan Burks, general manager and chief operating officer at SIXSITE and Gold Star Father, adds, “For most of us here, there is a fallen soldier buried somewhere nearby. Please go visit their grave and ponder their life and death. If you can’t get there in person, join in the National Moment of Remembrance at 3 p.m. local time to pause in an act of national unity for some who gave it all.”

A hat without a home

Men are weird.

We like uniforms.  

The exception is ball caps. That's one place we like to stand out.

If you are lucky enough to find one, a totally unique hat is gold.

We compete on the uniqueness and cool factor of our hat.

Recently, I thought I'd won. 

I found this hat in an a Irish bar in  Harrisburg, Pennsylvania during an 11 day stint at the Great American Outdoor Show.

In the upstairs section of McGrath's, there was a hat.  

Nasty, not really protected from weather or the grease from the kitchen.

Disco Biscuits it read.  

I asked the attendant what the story was with the hat.

"Oh, some cook left it here years ago.  We should have thrown it away years ago,"

"Would you be willing to sell it?"

"You'd pay money for that nasty hat?

"Yes ma'am.  I'll give you $10 for that hat."

Bingo Bongo, I'd found the hat that would win with my crew.

For the next few days, Dicso Biscuits shut down all the challengers.  It was King of Hats.

Fast forward to last Tuesday.  We had a board meeting.  But, we had a special guest show up.  

Jason and Austin Jones came to visit.

I work for a very special company.  

Founded by a Navy SEAL.  A guy with a heart as big as all outdoors.  

Board members are incredibly supportive of the mission.

Jason and Austin stopped by at lunchtime.

Austin was born with muscular dystrophy.  

He lives in a wheelchair.  

His dad, Jason, is his buddy, a caregiver (along with his wife).  

Jason and Austin are outdoors men.  They love to hunt.  

Austin has learned to shoot a crossbow with his dad's help.  He's a champion.  

Here's a video:  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ACnwnc8jdK

When Jason and Austin came into our office, it was an emotional time.

The board meeting stopped.  They were our focus.

About five minutes in, Jason asked me what the story was behind the Disco Biscuits hat.  I'd hung it in the warehouse for all to see.

I told him the short story.

Jason said, "Disco Biscuits is the name of our dog."

You can believe in serendipity or Divine Intervention.

Jason now has the Disco Biscuits hat.  

And, we have made two new friends for life.   

The Death of Innocents

Ten years ago, Pete was alive.

He was in Baghdad, Iraq.  He was doing what his commanding officers told him to do.

He was doing what the Commander in Chief, George W. Bush, told him to do.


Pete was part of, The Surge.  The Surge was an infusion of military to deal with what our government failed to plan for.


Ten years ago, Pete was part of a Cavalry Regiment sent in to deal with crap that our government never expected to deal with.   But due to their bad planning, they sent innocent young men and women into the their worst nightmares.  And, their nightmares became real.


Those nightmares are now shared by over 4,000 families who have no answers as to why.


We share in those nighmares of the 50,000 parents from Vietnam.  Why?


As I understand it, Pete's platoon was on an overnight mission in a part of the city where bad guys thrived.

The bad guys were Shia militiamen, supported by Iran, who were deeply involved in killing as many American troops and Sunni Iraquis as possible.


Pete's partner unit had discovered a huge cache of Iranian weapons hidden in a soccer stadium a few days before. The weapons were blown up in a huge explosion.


The prevailing belief is that Pete's unit was attacked as payback.


Ten years ago, Pete was alive.

What in the hell was he doing there?  What in the name of God was our Commander in Chief thinking?


Saddam Hussein had been captured years before.


Iraq was overrun by Iranian assholes with artillery, bombs and training.


Nobody bothered to tell the American people or the families of American military what the fuck was going on.


It was several years after Pete's death that I met a senior official at the Pentagon who was the guy in charge of monitoring Iran.

"Mr. Burks, I guessing nobody told you that your son died in a proxy war with Iran."

He said it like a good military man would.  No emotion.  No commentary.  Just fact.


My precious boy died in Iraq in a proxy war with Iran?  What?  What the fuck?  What the fucking fuck?

And today, the place where he died and where thousand of Americans died and bled is overuun by Iran?


I'm still trying to recover from that statement.


Ten years ago Pete was alive.


Pete told us he had hoped he would be deployed to Afghanistan.  He could understand that military intervention due to the Taliban and Bin Laden and the now defamed al Qaueda.  Many had died and are still dying in Afghanistan.  We still don't have a clear strategy there.


Sweet boy, you died serving your country.  You went to war as a result of 9/11.  You went to war knowing it was a less than 1% chance that anything could happen to you, yet you were part of the 1%.


God Bless and Godspeed to those who died in Iraq.  God Bless and Godspeed to those who were injured in Iraq.  God Bless and Godspeed to all those who served in Iraq.  God Bless and Godsp[eed to all who have served, bled and died in Afghanisan.

God Bless and Godspeed to all who wear the Cloth of our Nation.


I hope one day we will have an answer as to why.  But, I doubt we will.


Damn you Iran.  Not the people, but the towelheads in charge.


Damn you terrorists.


I will go to my grave fighting your terrorism.  I will go to my grave educating people about how evil you are.


A young man recently said to me, "America hasn't had a good clean war since WWII."  He's 30.  All he knows is the last 18 years of crap in Afghanistan and Iraq.


We need to understand what the misuse of our military has done to our young people.  What it has done to the trust of parents.


Damn you, Iran.  Damn you, radical Islamists.


Damn you, leaders without spines or souls.


God Bless America.


Thank God for men and women who are brave enough to wear the Cloth of our Nation.


Let us pray for clarity and proper use of our military going forward.


Good night, sweet boy.  I love you.  I miss you.  I thank you.  I'll see you soon.